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Futuristic 〘POLARIS.〙
- Thread starter Cresion Breezes
- Start date
Cresion Breezes
Beta Tester of Life
POLARIS
CH.2 OUR CHOICES
The sound of whirling machinery and digital notifications buzzed around the room as people moved about the office, sometimes leisurely, sometimes urgently. The massive radar system was projected on the center screen, as well as personal ones. It was another day in the Signal Analysis Department, the center of monitoring any Shell activity around the Polaris. It was a lunch break, as only a few employees were scattered about the silicon-lined room.
And just like that, without a single warning, a notification box sprang into every staff member’s screen, along with a sharp ringing sound that caught the attention of even those on break. The center screen’s radar map displayed a glowing red dot on the very edge of the screen, some who were too close to the screen tilted their heads completely up just to catch a glimpse of it.
[MAJOR DISTRESS SIGNAL DETECTED - Location: OUTER COMMUNICATION LAYER]
A long list of coordinates information scrolled below the header line.The more senior operational staff looked at each other in confusion, the Outer Communication Layer was the furthest that signals could transmit, there has almost never been a distress signal caught that far from the Polaris. Most Shell expedition teams rarely wander that far, as communication becomes extremely unreliable at that point, and there haven’t been such a team sent out recently on record either
“Check for the nearest outposts!” A woman with a commanding aura exclaimed at the scurrying staff members. A few senior members remembered the possibility of a breached underground outpost, it was a rare occasion, but a possible one.
“Search results null!” One voice raised above the chaos.
“Closest outpost is outside of communication range!”
“Distance is considered improbable for travel.”
“...Signal noise is strong, it is certainly a distress beacon...but we cannot rule out the possibility of a false positive.”
The room fell into silence after the short amount of chaos, as many realized the difficulty of the situation: it will be hard to decide what to do with this distress beacon. In a location so far away from home, sending out a rescue team would be greatly endangering that team, especially with the possibility of a false positive. But if it was a distress signal with living people behind it…
“Contacting the Decypher Department and Caravan Teams, we can-”
“-No.” The staff member who made the suggestion was cut off by the overseer, “If we let the Caravan Team know, he’ll-”.
“I will what?” The holographic projector in the middle of the room glowed up for a moment and projected out the image of a man in an administration uniform - Halley Edmann, the auxiliary commander of Polaris’ Caravans Teams. “I’ll be handling the processing of this mission, please do not stress over it.”
“What?” The overseer of Signal Analysis opened her eyes wide in surprise, “Caravan Commander Edmann…have you been here?”
The auxiliary made a slight thinking gesture and replied: “Well, yes, I am present at all of the major departments most of the time, you never know when we will be needed. It’s a bit draining, but listening in isn’t nearly as tiring as needing to make announcements at an extermination sortie. Public speaking isn't my strong suit.”
The young overseer sighed, it seems like what her predecessor had told her about the eccentric commander of the Caravan Teams wasn’t an exaggeration. Only minutes have passed since the signal was received, yet a rescue mission is already being processed. An extremely dangerous and ambiguous one to boot. “You can’t order operators out there in good conscious, you-” She wanted to rebuttal such a rash decision.
A holographic screen slid into existence as heat in the room rose.
[Voluntary Outer Layer General Expedition Team (Temporary)]
A green “Approved” box and the Captain’s signature were on the corner of the projected documents. “I am not ordering anyone to do so, but I want to give whoever is out there a chance.”
“This is nepotism! The Captain would never approve of something like this if it were-” But it appears that any arguments and accusations were too late, there was no beating the productivity of someone who functionally had hundreds of brains. Halley Edmann’s ability was widely known, as he was able to hold multiple full conversations in various places simultaneously.
“I’ve received a full list of standby operators with level 3 outer Shell exploration authorization from all departments, I’m speaking to about…275 of them right now.”
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Ignette
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Ignette
Shell Relic & Phenomenia Research Wing
The clink and clank of the Shell Relic & Phenomenia Research Wing was unaffected by the chaos in the other departments, it rang on like the sterile, scientific machine it was intended to be, with researchers and scientists working away on the latest findings.
“Operator Ignette?” The research wings were always abundant with good projection and display devices, so it was easy for a digital life form to get around. This was exactly what Halley was doing after he showed his credentials to pause any ongoing experiments involving operators, as he approached the auxiliary Ignette, one of the operators in question. According to her files from other expeditions, Ignette didn’t seem to mind any danger factors in missions and prefered missions with exciting prospects. Halley had hoped she would take it up for a chance to wander further out.
“Halley Edmann, Caravan Teams.” He gave a quick salute to the lab coat wearing researcher near by, since it was hard for auxiliaries to shake hands or interact otherwise. “I have a deployment request for you, a request, not an order. It’s about the Shell...Well, it’s about a trip to the outside.”
A file opened up, displaying the radar map around Polaris, and the bright red signal that dotted the edge. “The higher-ups deemed it too distant to launch a rescue crew for this, I’m looking for volunteer operators to investigate this on an expeditionary rescue mission, whether it’s from one of us or not.”
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Hiberus Shaw
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Hiberus Shaw
Near-Engine Residential Sector
The lower residential sectors weren’t a good place for digital life to get around, the wiring was aged and the display devices often flickered or were straight up damaged. It was a no brainer as to why most auxiliaries with the semblance of a vanity streak didn’t like it around there.
Buzzt- ”E-excuse me, operator Hiberus Shaw?” Some of the aged electronics in an alleyway popped with jolts of static as Halley finally tracked down another on his list. This one took a while, so he hoped that despite the voluntary nature of the operation, there would be someone with enough engineering experience.
“Hello, I'm Halley Edmann, with the Caravan Teams.” A slightly flickering version of the operation briefing opened on the aged roadside digital display as the commander introduced the situation, “I understand you’re currently on break, so you can refute this, but this is an official deployment request.” The red notice dot on the map document swayed into an oval as the screen glitched again, “it’s a rescue technically, but also quite the deep expedition, we won’t know what will be encountered...or found.”
The sound of static electricity crackled a bit as the display strained with containing a sentient life form. “Please consider it, I will try to send the full debrief to your residence!”
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Solline
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Solline
Residential Sector - Solline’s Residence
A quick scan of the atmosphere in the room displayed quite some concentration of cleaning products, a physical person probably could smell it, a digital person could sense it from the sheer amount of data rushing in. The management of the building seemed quite shocked about being visited by an administration member, it was almost like they didn’t know this place housed a GPO...or maybe they just couldn't internalize it. Halley pondered as he waited into the residence’s digital security system.
“Hello? Operator Solline?” Halley showed up early, but it wasn’t long until the room’s resident returned. “Hi there, Caravan Teams Commander Halley Friedmann.” Private civilian displays were still a bit cramped and uncomfortable when being used by an auxiliary, so being fast about explaining was key.
“This is a deployment request...well, if you want, it’s a request.” The room was nice and clean, quite pleasant, it almost induced a sense of guilt pulling its resident away from it, but the briefing documents were pulled up anyways. “It’s quite far away, but it is technically a rescue mission. Someone with experience in away missions would help them a lot.”
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Winona Merrell
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Winona Merrell
Lower Residential Sector - Bar
There was quite the amount of alcohol particles in the air, it even made digital life forms feel a bit drunk with the amount of unusual information about the atmosphere flowing into their system. At least the location of it was a bar, where it was acceptable. What was less acceptable was a member of Polaris’ administration suddenly appearing on an entertainment facility’s display screen, and answering the bar trivia question in the process.
“Hello everyone,” Halley tried his best to remain friendly with the amount of civilians present. “Apologies, this may seem unusual, but I’m just here to speak with an operator present.” A few people in the room stared at the digital rendering of the Polaris High Council’s logo on his uniform as the bar employees shuffled nervously. “Ah, please don’t be so nervous, no one is in any sort of trouble.”
As the patrons returned to what they were doing, Halley took a sigh of relief. It was hard for auxiliaries to navigate some areas, and being a known member of Polaris’ high command didn’t help, as relatively good as his reputation is. It was good though, in some sense, as the semblance of normality was pretty important.
“Right, let’s get to business then.” The debriefing document with an area map and the bright red symbol displaying the signal received was pulled up on the display. “This is a deployment request from the Caravan Team, and I’m looking for members for this voluntary mission.” He announced it to the young woman nearby. “And don’t worry, operator Merrell, there is compensation for it.” It wasn’t a lie, but it did come from Halley's personal expense account, and it could be a big dent depending on how many did take up this mission…
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Edris Inaros
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Edris Inaros
Top Sector Street Gym
Perhaps it was a bit difficult for some auxiliaries to understand the desire to train one’s physical body, seeing they mostly lacked a trainable one, it was even more difficult to understand why a GPO would actually spend time in a gym. Afterall, their bodies no longer changed after their attunement and physical training would cease to produce results, although many times one’s metabolism was linked with lifestyle.
And most of all, mentality was something that many GPOs never adjusted to. Whether it's the responsibility or the potential things they’ve endured to come to the point where they are, perhaps routines like this are just a way of coping with some mysterious horror lurking at the back of one’s mind.
Halley checked in with the front desk of the gym, who was a little less surprised than most employees in the residential sector to see him, since the Top Sector had a lot more GPOs and high ranking personnel wandering around.
“Operator Inaros?” The man asked, politely interrupting whatever the other was doing, “Edmann, of the Caravan Teams, I have a voluntary deployment mission I am currently recruiting members for, I hope you can take a look and consider.” He bowed gently and transferred the missing overview document.
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Chomp
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Chomp
Cat Shack Saloon
There was some music in the air, and the vibrations that rode the signals that auxiliaries traveled on surged in a rhythmic fashion. Halley stared at the location’s sign for a moment. It was a familiar word, cat, it was rarely used now and almost no one knew what it meant, but it felt familiar.
“Operator…Chomp, right. Hello there.” As he tracked down another auxiliary operator, Halley always thought that particular individual had a strange name. Did he give that name to himself? As an auxiliary who somehow remembers a name that belonged to them, it was difficult for Halley to not notice that. Many auxiliaries don’t remember their names when activated and were simply given one, but the names were never this unusual. Auxiliaries were humans after all, so they are given human names. Although it was probably different in the unknown amounts of Shell communities deep underground, they lived very different lives.
“Halley Edmann, from the Caravan Teams, I have a voluntary mission to the Outer Communications Level here, and I’m recruiting interested operators.” He pulled up the mission overview on the saloon’s digital screens, there wasn’t much information on it. “Of course, you have the right to refuse.” He added.
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Nor Clyde
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Nor Clyde
Polaris Observation Deck - Open Recreational Area
There were a few scattered people in the open recreational area on the observation deck, this wasn’t a popular area as there was barely any infrastructure other than open land, but some enjoyed the openness and the soft light of the perpetual day break that shone in from every angle through the high glass dome. A few people carried some sticks and balls, occasionally hitting the ball as hard as they could forward towards a marked specific spot.
It was some sort of new recreational sport, Halley was a bit old, but even as the oldest person on Polaris he still tries to keep up with new innovations with his God Program ability. Golf, or something like that, an interesting game, albeit a bit slow. He could see how it appealed to a GPO though, being able to take something slowly is often a blessing.
“Operator Nor Clyde, good day. Halley Edmann, Caravan Teams.” When he found the operator the auxiliary quickly greeted her. “I’m currently recruiting for a voluntary mission, it’s going to cover quite a bit of distance, hence why it’s voluntary.” He pulled up the holographic displayed and mirrored it to show the operator. “Please take a look if it interests you.”
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Ethan Vogel
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Ethan Vogel
Engineering & Reversal Research Wing
The Engineering, or more aptly the Reverse Engineering Wing was always one of the more noisy places in the various research institutions of Polaris, as the constant metal scratches and clanking of materials never seem to cease. Much of the Shell’s technology that they managed to harvest have ended up here, being taken apart and studied day in and day out.
The operator he was looking for, Ethan Vogel, was a regular here. It was quite unexpected that a mild mannered individual like him could qualify for level 3 Shell expedition credentials, perhaps it was because of his regular appearances in this sector and his subtle but clearly present engineering abilities that he was given them.
“Hello, Operator Vogel?” Politely interrupting the other’s work Halley gave a small smile before continuing. “I am here to recruit standby operators for a voluntary mission to investigate a distress signal in the outer communications layer.” The mission overview popped up on a nearby digital display. “Of course, it is voluntary, but it is a fairly in-depth operation, I am hoping that some capable engineers would accompany the team.”
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Tiphereth
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Tiphereth
Top Sector - Polaris Silicaris Library
It was paramount to be quiet while in a library, as an auxiliary it was quite a simple thing to achieve as they didn’t do pesky things like wear squeaky shoes or accidentally fall down the stairs while screaming. However, the need to speak and communicate still existed whether you had a fleshy body or not.
Halley adjusted his volume output as he searched the place for any potential operators that were more of the academic type. At the psychology section there was a particular operator, her file said that she worked in the field too. What a diligent type, Halley thought, as most people didn’t go off trying to better themselves professionally in their off time, so perhaps she would be willing to take the mission.
“Operator Tiphereth, hello.” He lowered his volume to a whisper as he spoke to the operator in a nearby screen of the library’s search system. “Halley Edmann, from the Caravan Teams, forgive my assumptions, but you seem quite devoted to your work.” He smiled and asked gently, but quickly got back on track. “I have a voluntary mission, it’s possible it will be a rescue mission, though the information is not the most clear.” A holo screen with the overview popped up near the lines of books. “If you’re interested, please take a look and consider.”
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Amiela Aeterna
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Amiela Aeterna
Residential Sector - Amiela Aeterna’s Residence
The area seemed like a nice place to live, with cafes and parks littered around the area. Well, if you had a flesh body that is, as the electronics were sometimes not too up to par. Halley thought as he waited in the digital door answering system of an operator’s residence.
“Hello there, Operator Aeterna.” He tried to speak to the other, but clearly there were particles of…particular substances floating in the air, perhaps he arrived at a bad time. Halley was never one to police what operators did in their spare time, and ultimately decided to perhaps just leave a message in the answering system. “This is Halley Friedmann, from the Caravan Team, sorry to intrude. And you’re not in any trouble, it’s unrelated.” He quickly added the latter half of the statement.
Judging by the situation, perhaps it would be best to get to the point quickly. “I’m recruiting for a voluntary expedition mission to the outer shell, I will leave the debriefing files on your personal devices, if you become free before the rendezvous time, please try to consider it.” A beep signaled the ending of the message recording as Halley left the apartment, thinking about some other aspects of having a flesh body.
Lucius Cypher
Delicious Friend
The past few days have been relatively quiet for Chomp. As quiet as it can get for a two-ton metal monstrosity who's default volume is shouting, at least. Without any missions into the crust or around Polaris, Chomp's days fell into a very structural pattern of training from morning to afternoon, relaxation from afternoon to night, and then private research until it was time to rest. Rinse and repeat. During training he got more familiar with the Impact Edge, getting used to it's weight and how he might use it in battle. One thing was for certain, it was far too cumbersome as a weapon to use against large swarms. Even against the likes of Carriers, who Chomp could clear out waves in with a single blow, it was faster and more efficient to just rip apart the weaker machines with his claws. Now, the Impact Blade was better suited against larger, solitary targets that do require more precise attacks or at the very least, harder armor to break. Unfortunately there hasn't been any sightings of tougher machines for Chomp to test his blade against, so the next best thing was against armored targets at the training area. And even the ones capable of simulated combat weren't exactly difficult for Chomp to fight since they were designed not to cause any real harm, even if they were taken over by corrupted AI and fought against the GPO's. So Chomp knew he had to save his blade for a real enemy, which unfortunately meant he didn't really get much meaningful practice behind handling it's weight.
Outside of training, Chomp had been relaxing at the Cat Shack Saloon, as he often did. He also made sure to visit the arcade to practice dancing. While he was far more skilled than most of the dancers there, he still had a long way to go against the champion youths who weren't afraid to go all out against Chomp. He didn't mind: he needed to have a clear idea of their ability if he wanted to gauge his own strengths and weaknesses. And the obvious issue he has is that his body, as much power as he could pot into mobility and movement, was far too cumbersome for the agile maneuvers he needs for dancing. He would need to slim down considerably so his joints and limbs had a better range of motion and flexibility, something that he doesn't really have the resources to do right now. Chomp quickly realized where his limits were and made a mental note to look into upgrading his body to improve it's performance.
At the end of the day, Chomp's research went into looking into how to improve his body anyways. He made sure to read up on any information about the machines and looked for models and designs that could hold the key to the upgrade he needs. While there are plenty of examples that are fast and agile, they trade durability for speed, something that Chomp cannot compromise on. He needed something that was faster without losing his defensive abilities, but alas no luck there. Chomp made a mental note to possibly research more advance materials. Perhaps he could find a metal that was lighter but still durable, which would enable him to use a thinner metal plate and make it more ergonomic to fit better parts for mobility. Everyone could benefit from that.
This pattern of training, entertainment, and research would go on until one day as Chomp was drinking a Citrus Soda, he received a message on his communicator. Halley Edmann, leader of the Caravan Teams. While Chomp hasn't really spoken to him personally before, he knew the man in passing and has worked with his caravans in the past. Not the most exciting jobs but more often than not the best results are when caravan runs are uneventful and boring. In any case he had a job for Chomp, though there wasn't much information to it. There was a distress signal far from the Polaris, and no information beyond that. Chomp has been on similar investigations that often ended up leading to nothing due to the complexity of the world. Sometimes these signals had actually been made long ago, and circumstances occurred that finally allowed them to reach the Polaris now. Sometimes an inexperienced communication officer accidentally sends a signal and when the GPO's show up guns blazing, everyone is left confused. However there had also been occasions where outposts or communities are besieged by machines, who were actively jamming communications to the Polaris. A long, vague distress signal was often all that could be sent in the hopes that someone was willing to take the mission.
For a brief moment Chomp began to relive an old memory. Of a much younger time, before he was Chomp, where he simply cleaned trash out and recycled wasted into reusable materials. A simpler time where all Chomp had to do was clean, sleep, wake up, and repeat. Until one day chaos rained on his little home. Were they able to send out a distress signal? Could Chomp had joined the Polaris many centuries earlier, if he had stayed for a GPO to find him? Could that possible be what's happening right now? A second later, Chomp gave his response as he stood up, finished his drink, and walked out the door.
"I ACCEPT. I AM ON MY WAY TO THE LAUNCH POINT NOW."
Time was of the essence. Unlike before where Chomp would carefully walk through the alleys to reach the elevator to the tops, he simply found a spot devoid of others and jumped onto the roof of a short building, and continued to jump and climb from the residential area all the way to the tops, moving faster than he possibly could have if he had taken an elevator. As Chomp was never out of his armor and always had his gear on him, he was prepared to go on this mission right now. He even had his Impact Edge attached to a pylon on his back, eager to taste the steel of a true enemy. He wondered who else would be on this mission. He could imagine there would be many volunteers, since they haven't had a big mission in a while. But maybe there were some with more level heads thinking to avoid a mission with so little information. This could be a trap after all. But all the more reason for Chomp to go. Whether he's going to save someone or destroy his enemies, Chomp knew what he was going to do. He was going to complete this mission.
Clockwork_Magic
*Gears turning*
The past few days after the extermination op went by without much incident for Solline. She couldn't remember much about the after operation festivities, only remembering having a 'conversation' with Nor, leaving to drink at some bar, and then waking up the next morning sprawled on her couch with a massive headache after somehow making her way home safe. Needless to say, for the next couple of days after that she ate nothing but leftovers and whatever she could whip up without stepping a foot out of her apartment, until this morning that is.
Solline stretched as she got up from bed and went through her morning routine, brushing her teeth, all that boring monotonous stuff. That was until Solline went to the fridge to cook herself a light breakfast. She wasn't feeling that hungry but figured she might as well have at least a little bite to eat, but she was instead greeted by empty compartments and shelves. She let out a sigh, not really wanting to go out this early. I guess it can't be helped then... Begrudgingly, Solline closed the fridge door, headed and headed back to her room to change into her casual outfit, which she had taken out of the plastic bag and placed on a proper hanger in her closet, placing her plain white nightgown on the top shelf of the closet after she finished, neatly folded. Unlike the last time she went out, she didn't bother doing her hair other than combing down the rough edges to at least look presentable in public before heading out the door.
"Thank you, come again!" A voice from inside the building called out as Solline exited the establishment. Solline wasn't a big fan of Wormbi's but one can't really be picky about where they eat when they've eaten all of their leftovers and forgotten to buy groceries, not to mention trying to stay on a budget. Her first order and really only order of business after having brunch was to purchase some groceries that would last her a few weeks and so made her way to the nearest commercial district.
The district itself was a fair ways away from her apartment, however was familiar to her, but with that familiarity came a sense of anxiety as while the district wasn't that close to her current apartment, it was close to her old home. Solline kept her head on a swivel, looking all around her, as if she was being followed or was the target for some assassin hiding in plain sight. Please don't let them be here. Was all that was running through her head as she sped-walked to the nearest supermarket and continued to echo in her head as she did her shopping. By the time she finished and exited the supermarket, it was nearing lunchtime and a considerable amount of people were now on the streets. She was about to relax a bit when she saw a head with black and red hair among the crowd to her left. Almost in a panic, she rushed in the opposite direction of the figure, hiding behind a corner and taking a peek. She felt a small wave relief when the figure she saw turned out to be just some random stranger with a hairdo really similar to Vesta's. "What the hell am I doing..." She said in a murmur to herself, looking down at her feet and letting out a heavy sigh. She didn't want to stay in that district more than she needed to and so broke out in a light jog back to her apartment.
However, when she got back to her apartment complex, something seemed off. It seemed that she wasn't the only one on edge today. The complex's management seemed to be astir over something, Solline catching a few of them taking glances at her while she walked to her apartment. What's got them so worked up? She didn't need to wait long for an answer to that thought as she entered her apartment, where she was greeted by Commander Halley Friedmann in one of the built in screens in the wall. She knew who the commander was due to her frequent involvement in expeditions and caravan missions in the past, but she didn't know the auxiliary personally.
"With all due respect Commander, I'd appreciate it if you don't pay me a home visit like this, I don't exactly want the entire complex to know I'm an operator." She said with a hint of annoyance in her voice, but kept it to a minimum, before looking at the briefing documents. It was about a distress signal that was really, really far out from the Polaris, definitely farther out than Solline had ever gone in her time as an operator. "Geez, that's really far out there, isn't it." She said as she finished up reading the documents. "Yea, sure, I'll do it, just give me time to change." She said in an almost monotone voice before going to change into her reconnaissance gear. A request? Solline mentally scoffed that they would even call it that. With these people, there were no such things as "requests" only demands, orders, especially with those of Solline's kind. If it were really a request, all the operators on Polaris would be organic carbonites and sifes.
If it were really a request, Polaris's administration wouldn't have created her in the first place.
Solline stretched as she got up from bed and went through her morning routine, brushing her teeth, all that boring monotonous stuff. That was until Solline went to the fridge to cook herself a light breakfast. She wasn't feeling that hungry but figured she might as well have at least a little bite to eat, but she was instead greeted by empty compartments and shelves. She let out a sigh, not really wanting to go out this early. I guess it can't be helped then... Begrudgingly, Solline closed the fridge door, headed and headed back to her room to change into her casual outfit, which she had taken out of the plastic bag and placed on a proper hanger in her closet, placing her plain white nightgown on the top shelf of the closet after she finished, neatly folded. Unlike the last time she went out, she didn't bother doing her hair other than combing down the rough edges to at least look presentable in public before heading out the door.
"Thank you, come again!" A voice from inside the building called out as Solline exited the establishment. Solline wasn't a big fan of Wormbi's but one can't really be picky about where they eat when they've eaten all of their leftovers and forgotten to buy groceries, not to mention trying to stay on a budget. Her first order and really only order of business after having brunch was to purchase some groceries that would last her a few weeks and so made her way to the nearest commercial district.
The district itself was a fair ways away from her apartment, however was familiar to her, but with that familiarity came a sense of anxiety as while the district wasn't that close to her current apartment, it was close to her old home. Solline kept her head on a swivel, looking all around her, as if she was being followed or was the target for some assassin hiding in plain sight. Please don't let them be here. Was all that was running through her head as she sped-walked to the nearest supermarket and continued to echo in her head as she did her shopping. By the time she finished and exited the supermarket, it was nearing lunchtime and a considerable amount of people were now on the streets. She was about to relax a bit when she saw a head with black and red hair among the crowd to her left. Almost in a panic, she rushed in the opposite direction of the figure, hiding behind a corner and taking a peek. She felt a small wave relief when the figure she saw turned out to be just some random stranger with a hairdo really similar to Vesta's. "What the hell am I doing..." She said in a murmur to herself, looking down at her feet and letting out a heavy sigh. She didn't want to stay in that district more than she needed to and so broke out in a light jog back to her apartment.
However, when she got back to her apartment complex, something seemed off. It seemed that she wasn't the only one on edge today. The complex's management seemed to be astir over something, Solline catching a few of them taking glances at her while she walked to her apartment. What's got them so worked up? She didn't need to wait long for an answer to that thought as she entered her apartment, where she was greeted by Commander Halley Friedmann in one of the built in screens in the wall. She knew who the commander was due to her frequent involvement in expeditions and caravan missions in the past, but she didn't know the auxiliary personally.
"With all due respect Commander, I'd appreciate it if you don't pay me a home visit like this, I don't exactly want the entire complex to know I'm an operator." She said with a hint of annoyance in her voice, but kept it to a minimum, before looking at the briefing documents. It was about a distress signal that was really, really far out from the Polaris, definitely farther out than Solline had ever gone in her time as an operator. "Geez, that's really far out there, isn't it." She said as she finished up reading the documents. "Yea, sure, I'll do it, just give me time to change." She said in an almost monotone voice before going to change into her reconnaissance gear. A request? Solline mentally scoffed that they would even call it that. With these people, there were no such things as "requests" only demands, orders, especially with those of Solline's kind. If it were really a request, all the operators on Polaris would be organic carbonites and sifes.
If it were really a request, Polaris's administration wouldn't have created her in the first place.
Spoiled Bread
The Lord of the Uneaten
IGNETTE #501
Location: Shell Relic & Phenomenia Research Wing
The Shell Relic & Phenomenia Research Wing was a place where scientists uncover the secrets of the technologies pulled from the shell, and Project Ignette was one such thing. Started by the now deceased Dr. Franklin, the project was created when the doctor found a particular subject with memory defect that proves auxillary might have the potential to alter their memory or have their memory altered. He believed the subject, Ignette, had the highest chance of accessing such memory if its exist and now after his passing, the project was handled by a trio of his clones. Though two of them had been busy with some other research topics, leaving Dr. Farron as the only one who handle the project.
After the 500th Ignette dies, Dr. Farron had been conducting a series of questionnaires and tests to fill the data and one of the test was currently being held in one of the research wing's recreational room.
The sound of an explosion resonated within the room as Boom Guy landed the lethal shot against some robotic abominations. Dr. Farron sat lazily on one of the sofa, a bowl of pretzels and a cup of coffee was neatly arranged on a small table next to him as he watched the gaming console in the middle of the room play by itself. Well, not really. The console was connected to two different monitors. One was displaying the content of the game, a first-person 3D action game about a human wandering into a place called 'Hell Shell'. The second monitor was displaying a 2D girl with horn-shaped hairband holding what was supposed to be the console's controller. Which of course wasn't what happening as the auxillary was directly connected to the console, she simply likes to express herself through the display.
She had been playing the game for almost two days straight and the scientist seemed content just watching her playing while occasionally asked her about the choices she made in the game. This was surely the best kind of test, much more fun than listening to the tape made by her previous self or filling a hundred pages survey. Though she immediately paused the game when she sensed another auxillary entered the room's system. Soon after, the caravan leader showed himself on one of the display and offered her a rather curious request.
"A rescue mission outside of communication range with no substantial information known except the signal source? Sounds fun! I can take this, right doc?" Ignette had sparkles on her eyes as she asked the scientist for his permission. Dr. Farron simply nodded at the request, though his face looks like he was groaning inside.
"Yay!" Just like that, the girl vanished from the display, her data had been blazing through the facilities' network to prepare her vessel for the mission. Dr. Farron sipped the last drop of his coffee.
"I should prepare for the next Ignette." He sighed.
Location: Shell Relic & Phenomenia Research Wing
The Shell Relic & Phenomenia Research Wing was a place where scientists uncover the secrets of the technologies pulled from the shell, and Project Ignette was one such thing. Started by the now deceased Dr. Franklin, the project was created when the doctor found a particular subject with memory defect that proves auxillary might have the potential to alter their memory or have their memory altered. He believed the subject, Ignette, had the highest chance of accessing such memory if its exist and now after his passing, the project was handled by a trio of his clones. Though two of them had been busy with some other research topics, leaving Dr. Farron as the only one who handle the project.
After the 500th Ignette dies, Dr. Farron had been conducting a series of questionnaires and tests to fill the data and one of the test was currently being held in one of the research wing's recreational room.
The sound of an explosion resonated within the room as Boom Guy landed the lethal shot against some robotic abominations. Dr. Farron sat lazily on one of the sofa, a bowl of pretzels and a cup of coffee was neatly arranged on a small table next to him as he watched the gaming console in the middle of the room play by itself. Well, not really. The console was connected to two different monitors. One was displaying the content of the game, a first-person 3D action game about a human wandering into a place called 'Hell Shell'. The second monitor was displaying a 2D girl with horn-shaped hairband holding what was supposed to be the console's controller. Which of course wasn't what happening as the auxillary was directly connected to the console, she simply likes to express herself through the display.
She had been playing the game for almost two days straight and the scientist seemed content just watching her playing while occasionally asked her about the choices she made in the game. This was surely the best kind of test, much more fun than listening to the tape made by her previous self or filling a hundred pages survey. Though she immediately paused the game when she sensed another auxillary entered the room's system. Soon after, the caravan leader showed himself on one of the display and offered her a rather curious request.
"A rescue mission outside of communication range with no substantial information known except the signal source? Sounds fun! I can take this, right doc?" Ignette had sparkles on her eyes as she asked the scientist for his permission. Dr. Farron simply nodded at the request, though his face looks like he was groaning inside.
"Yay!" Just like that, the girl vanished from the display, her data had been blazing through the facilities' network to prepare her vessel for the mission. Dr. Farron sipped the last drop of his coffee.
"I should prepare for the next Ignette." He sighed.
Ehb
Literal No One
Nor Clyde
Interactions:
Cresion Breezes
A small white ball sat calmly at it's starting position on soft green blades of turf. If it was sentient, it would've been praying that it wouldn't hurt too much when the time came for the player using it to whack it in a particular direction. The strength put out by most normal types on the Polaris was not enough to pose any harm to the sphere - it was designed to get hit in such a fashion after all. But the player in this case was not a normal person. Rather a GPO with higher than average strength, and even then, higher than average strength for a GPO. Oh, and due to the propensity of that said strength in breaking stuff, the Driver Mallet and all other gear she used was made of weapons grade materiel. The balls and other equipment necessary for the game but easily and often lost in the field did not enjoy the same luxury.
So certainly, if that poor plastic ball had any sentience about it there would be much to be thankful about in this moment. As right before it met it's fateful reunion with titanium alloy and force that could sometimes be magnitudes above it's tolerance, this player's game of golf was interrupted by the sudden job offer from the Caravan Teams.
"A voluntary long range mission huh? It means one of two things: This is someone's pet project or it's some kind of suicide mission." Leaning on her her driver mallet. Nor inspects the message that was mirrored to her. "Well I can appreciate the that I'm given the choice this time. It feels like I'm still trying to work through the Wormbus from that topside encounter the other day."
Nor didn't have time for stuff like this. She was still trying to work through her leftovers. As of right now, she was about 60% of the way through with them all. Nor hated to admit it but she was starting to get a little tired of the Wormbus meat. She's by now stuck chunks on skewers and barbecued it. She's ground it up to make burger. She has put it into some stew... that was actually what she was going to have before sleeping tonight since it was still novel enough for her to stomach. Though at this point it felt like she was going to want to consider apologizing to the Wormbus for not being able to stomach the other 25%... or maybe she could just invite someone over for the sole purpose of finishing it all off without wasting it.
She was mentally going off in a tangent. In any case, the answer for this optional mission was a resounding 'no'. Nor had been on dangerous missions before of course. But, if given the opportunity to not have to deal with any of this, then of course she would-
Nor's communicator received a couple of messages simultaneously. They flashed over her pink irises as she quickly reviewed them.
Optional Mission suddenly made Un-Optional.
Nor at least had the liberty of being able to have the illusion that this was an optional mission, if not for just a few fleeting moments. In muted frustration, she took her driver mallet and nonchalantly whacked the ball that was resting on the artificial green, sending it flying with a single reckless wide angle swing. It went flying towards the target hole in the ground in several pieces.
"Guess I accept the offer now. Thank you kindly." Nor says as she rested her driver club over her shoulder. "I'll go ahead and prep up. Go ahead and send my any more necessary information till then, yadd-yadda."
Interactions:
Cresion Breezes
A small white ball sat calmly at it's starting position on soft green blades of turf. If it was sentient, it would've been praying that it wouldn't hurt too much when the time came for the player using it to whack it in a particular direction. The strength put out by most normal types on the Polaris was not enough to pose any harm to the sphere - it was designed to get hit in such a fashion after all. But the player in this case was not a normal person. Rather a GPO with higher than average strength, and even then, higher than average strength for a GPO. Oh, and due to the propensity of that said strength in breaking stuff, the Driver Mallet and all other gear she used was made of weapons grade materiel. The balls and other equipment necessary for the game but easily and often lost in the field did not enjoy the same luxury.
So certainly, if that poor plastic ball had any sentience about it there would be much to be thankful about in this moment. As right before it met it's fateful reunion with titanium alloy and force that could sometimes be magnitudes above it's tolerance, this player's game of golf was interrupted by the sudden job offer from the Caravan Teams.
"A voluntary long range mission huh? It means one of two things: This is someone's pet project or it's some kind of suicide mission." Leaning on her her driver mallet. Nor inspects the message that was mirrored to her. "Well I can appreciate the that I'm given the choice this time. It feels like I'm still trying to work through the Wormbus from that topside encounter the other day."
Nor didn't have time for stuff like this. She was still trying to work through her leftovers. As of right now, she was about 60% of the way through with them all. Nor hated to admit it but she was starting to get a little tired of the Wormbus meat. She's by now stuck chunks on skewers and barbecued it. She's ground it up to make burger. She has put it into some stew... that was actually what she was going to have before sleeping tonight since it was still novel enough for her to stomach. Though at this point it felt like she was going to want to consider apologizing to the Wormbus for not being able to stomach the other 25%... or maybe she could just invite someone over for the sole purpose of finishing it all off without wasting it.
She was mentally going off in a tangent. In any case, the answer for this optional mission was a resounding 'no'. Nor had been on dangerous missions before of course. But, if given the opportunity to not have to deal with any of this, then of course she would-
Nor's communicator received a couple of messages simultaneously. They flashed over her pink irises as she quickly reviewed them.
Optional Mission suddenly made Un-Optional.
Nor at least had the liberty of being able to have the illusion that this was an optional mission, if not for just a few fleeting moments. In muted frustration, she took her driver mallet and nonchalantly whacked the ball that was resting on the artificial green, sending it flying with a single reckless wide angle swing. It went flying towards the target hole in the ground in several pieces.
"Guess I accept the offer now. Thank you kindly." Nor says as she rested her driver club over her shoulder. "I'll go ahead and prep up. Go ahead and send my any more necessary information till then, yadd-yadda."
Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
Hiberus Shaw, Phobos Itself
Interactions:
Cresion Breezes
Mentions:
The days went by as they had always done. Quick. Quiet. Blurred. Not for lack of trying on Shaw's part, but due to his unique affliction stemming from Phobos and chaotic routine made time's march much more menacingly blistering than ordinary. The darkness smothered him once again as he exerted himself, suspended by his hands on bars protruding from the ceiling. Up and down, up and down. The ghoulish apparatus which normally embraced his skull sat on a workbench, sternly staring straight at Shaw. Almost as if the vacant, blue lenses followed his bobbing. GPOs, he reckons, did not possess the need to exercise as much as the mundane men and women upon the Polaris, but he thinks how could anyone avoid this? It relaxed him as keenly as battle or sleep did, it exercised his mind to allow him to conjure up fascinating new ways to fight, create, or in between. A few seconds of harmony, forgetting the world around him.
At the one-thousandth pull-up, Shaw's muscles finally pained him enough to stop. His fingers unclasp and the engineer drops with the feline grace and quietness. Beads of sweat rolled away from Shaw's skin, almost running away. He sequestered a towel from the nearby chair to wipe away the droplets. Just as Shaw swiped his face, a blue figurine invaded his sanctum. It banished the darkness closest. Shaw edged away from the blue light shielding himself with the towel by pressing it against his nose and mouth. He peered over the fibers with a vengeful glare. Shaw believed that he ripped out all the unnecessary and hijackable circuitry and wires of this place when he first moved in; it appears that he is wrong and will have to rectify that.
It blathered pleadingly for Shaw to at least consider this 'rescue' operation. Was it really so simple, he wondered? Obviously, they're anticipating something. Otherwise, why mention that it is a deep-dig operation at all? Shaw suspects that they'll be acquisitioning something other than lives on this mission. It baned him that he might be right without the need of prophetic powers to deduce this. A salient sigh escaped him as he looked directly at Halley Edmann.
"Halley Edmann, of The Caravan Company. I accept the request. Send the debriefing material and never deign to do this again." Said Shaw pallidly.
Interactions:
Cresion Breezes
Mentions: The days went by as they had always done. Quick. Quiet. Blurred. Not for lack of trying on Shaw's part, but due to his unique affliction stemming from Phobos and chaotic routine made time's march much more menacingly blistering than ordinary. The darkness smothered him once again as he exerted himself, suspended by his hands on bars protruding from the ceiling. Up and down, up and down. The ghoulish apparatus which normally embraced his skull sat on a workbench, sternly staring straight at Shaw. Almost as if the vacant, blue lenses followed his bobbing. GPOs, he reckons, did not possess the need to exercise as much as the mundane men and women upon the Polaris, but he thinks how could anyone avoid this? It relaxed him as keenly as battle or sleep did, it exercised his mind to allow him to conjure up fascinating new ways to fight, create, or in between. A few seconds of harmony, forgetting the world around him.
At the one-thousandth pull-up, Shaw's muscles finally pained him enough to stop. His fingers unclasp and the engineer drops with the feline grace and quietness. Beads of sweat rolled away from Shaw's skin, almost running away. He sequestered a towel from the nearby chair to wipe away the droplets. Just as Shaw swiped his face, a blue figurine invaded his sanctum. It banished the darkness closest. Shaw edged away from the blue light shielding himself with the towel by pressing it against his nose and mouth. He peered over the fibers with a vengeful glare. Shaw believed that he ripped out all the unnecessary and hijackable circuitry and wires of this place when he first moved in; it appears that he is wrong and will have to rectify that.
It blathered pleadingly for Shaw to at least consider this 'rescue' operation. Was it really so simple, he wondered? Obviously, they're anticipating something. Otherwise, why mention that it is a deep-dig operation at all? Shaw suspects that they'll be acquisitioning something other than lives on this mission. It baned him that he might be right without the need of prophetic powers to deduce this. A salient sigh escaped him as he looked directly at Halley Edmann.
"Halley Edmann, of The Caravan Company. I accept the request. Send the debriefing material and never deign to do this again." Said Shaw pallidly.
BnemonicDevice
please curb my ham ham pang pangs
Cresion Breezes
Beta Tester of Life
POLARIS
CH.2.1 OUR CHOICES (2)
-
SOUTHWEST CARAVAN HANGER MAIN FLOOR - VIDEO SURVEILLANCE FOOTAGE
-
“275?” The Signal Analysis Department turned some heads on hearing the number, “how many do you expect to respond to going to a place like...like that?” The young woman pointed at the glowing red dot on the radar map.
“About...seven, eight, or maybe even ten? If there isn’t enough I’ll ask more, oh?” The document that was laid out began to change as profiles of a few operators began to appear.
Temporary Rescue-Shell Exploration Team V0915 - Member Requirement Reached.
TEAM ESTABLISHED - ALL MEMBERS PLEASE REPORT TO SOUTHWEST CARAVAN HANGERS
At the Southwest Caravan Hanger a young woman was busy with preparations, it wasn't everyday that she gets to hop into a journey like this one and excitement was buzzing in every fiber of her being. Although many normal people feared the outside world that can easily crush their frail meager bodies without the protection of a God Program, others were different despite their lack of any compatibility.
“Phew.” Mavi Eskanight wiped her forehead and closed up the panel, she flicked open a data screen to make sure that every part of her caravan was maintained and in tip top shape, her's and many other's lives depended on it after all. “...Let’s see…” She muttered before her attention was caught by the low humming of the projector nearby.
“...Hey boss.” The young woman only looked up for a second as Halley Edmann appeared from the wall-mount projector, “glad you made it. How did recruitment go?”
“The usual, some of them wanted to kick me out." The auxiliary gave an exhausted shrug. "It’s been a handful with the Captain, it’s a shame that I can’t do more right now.” Halley leaned against the entrance wall, making the gesture despite having no physical body to do that.
"Maybe you should act more your age and rank, Boss. So people would like, you know, actually respect you?" The girl replied, ironically in a casual or even disrespecting tone. Perhaps that just proves her point even more.
"I'm respected plenty." It was a half-hearted reply in the same casual manner of speech. A moment of silence that felt strangely drawn-out passed, before the auxiliary spoke again, this time in a more solemn tone “Mavi, I know this might not be possible, but I want you to at least try."
"Please convince them to get out of there if anything goes wrong.”
The caravan driver closed the data screens and looked at the other, her eyes narrowed in a suspecting gaze. “...Why have this trip if you’re so worried? This isn't like you Boss, you're not the type to risk operators over something like this.” Halley didn’t answer, he simply averted the young woman's gaze and started off into the distance for a while as Mavi waited.
“...Something about that signal, it sends a chill down my spine, it feels like…” Mavi had a strange look on her face, even if she knew of her digital boss’s love for organic colloquialisms, but this was absolutely not the proper time for that. Interruptions in the form of a few beeps and other sounds came from down the hangar, those were the signal of operators entering the hanger. “Please take care of them.” The commander was quick to regain his composure as he gave Mavi a smile, the latter blinked and shook her head, then swiftly dashed down the hangar hallway.
“...It feels like...it's calling me...it's calling...many of us.”
The projector flickered off.
“Didn’t expect people to show up already, actually I didn't expect people to show up at all considering...” the young woman gazed around at the few who gathered, she made a shrugging geasture and waved her finger in the air as if looking for a word. "Ye know, kind of a pointless but also dangerous missions."
But she quickly regained her cheeriness, or perhaps she never really was worried in the first place. “Mavi Eskanight, caravan driver.” She held out her hand as a friendly gesture to the present operators, before seemingly she remembered something, and instead turned to slap a panel mounted on the wall. It flipped open, revealing a few electrical boards and wiring. “I hope you all got a chance to look at the debrief, the accelerator forces me to cut the projectors here so Boss couldn’t be around.” The slight sound of whirling could be heard as Mavi reconnected the power supply around the hangar, the lights turned a bit brighter than before, while the various devices on the wall flickered on. The eager driver let out a sigh of relief and pointed down the hangar’s long passageway. “Loading’s ready, it’s a small one, but we should fit well enough.” She continued to fiddle around the various panels around the entrance while nodding at the others: “Feel free to go on ahead, make yourself comfortable.” The words were followed up by a light chuckle.
Down the halls illuminated by fluorescent LEDs and with walls increasingly covered in various warning signs, sat the vessel picked for the mission. It was the size of a small residential apartment, but in an unusually long and thin shape, even for a caravan. The surface is lined by deep grey armour and a layer of ice, similar to the outer walls of Polaris itself. A ramp was propped up and led into the interior, the opening cut off the letters spray-painted on the side of the vessel: -HTCRAWLER LITE .
When stepped in, one will find themselves in the front control room. Various panels and UI screens littered the area, looking like a jumbled mess to those who are unfamiliar. The glass that lined the front of the vessel gave a peak towards the outside: a long dark hallway with faint lights at fixed distances, those with good eyesight could catch a glimpse of the natural light from the eternal sunrise at the end. Beyond that was the presence of passenger seats, with not much abnormality, other than the seatbelts that were piled on the seats. Piled. The straps were thick and numerous, another strange difference from standard caravans.
The door at the back of the control room was still locked tight, but a map of the two-story tall vessel was displayed on the wall by the door. There seemed to be various living quarters and amenities, though they are all fairly spacious, they are also quite narrow despite their area. A room that spans both floors can be seen on the map, located in the middle of the caravan. The words “For 12 O - Persons” were printed at the bottom left corner.
The sound of footsteps on the metallic ground can be heard as it echoed down the corridor. Mavi half ran and half skipped down to the hangar where the Nightcrawler Lite was sitting upon its accelerator, it will soon be launched out of the Polaris with great speeds. But before that, she still had some preparation work to do after sifting through the deployment profiles.
"Welcome all!" With a small clap, the driver tried to lighten the mood, "we're not going to go too deep, but we are going to be going fast." She hoped that the long narrow shape of the vessel, the thick complex seatbelts, and the dark corridor labeled "Linear Accelerator" would have dropped a hint to even the inexperienced, but it can't hurt to be safe. "I see that you are all experienced in your respected fields, but any questions?"
The splunky caravan driver was trying to make those who decided to partake in the operator at home, it was the least she can do for something like this after all. Despite her determination, her non-GPO status was a crushing reality that became shackles of limitations to where she can go, even as she tried and tried to push past that barrier. However, she was unaware of another crushing reality that would soon come to pass: on this journey, one of the passengers of the Nightcrawler would die. It was simply the expected result of their choice.
Clockwork_Magic
*Gears turning*
Nice to see this corridor is as grey and boring as ever... Although it’s not like the Shell is any better. The sounds of blonde girl's boots hitting the metal floors of the corridors echoed as she walked to the hanger for deployment. She bother to keep count of how many times she walked down this hallway, of how many times Polaris had her venture outside into the depths of the Shell. As she entered the hanger, there was already a group of other operators there. Wait... are they... As Solline approached the assembled group, she began to see a bunch of familiar figures and faces, all from the extermination sortie the other day. It's not like she particularly knew them, only talking to a handful of them last time, so she figured she'd just stand anywhere. Well... anywhere except by the 'psychologist' if it can be helped.
A little while after she joined the group in waiting, a young woman entered the room from one of the hallways and approached the group. She couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle and smirk at the woman’s opening remark before she introduced herself. Aren’t most caravan missions we run pointless and dangerous. As the woman fiddled with the wall, Solline squinted her eyes a bit as the lights in the hanger got brighter before they gradually got used to the new levels of light, which traced the direction the woman pointed in after she did whatever the hell she did with the wall.
As Solline followed Mavi down the corridor, her eyes wandering from warning sign to warning sign. Well I’ll be damned, they actually have an appropriately decorated hallway for caravan missions. Her internal jokes aside, the peculiar and hazardous nature of the mission they were about to embark on began to become more apparent than it already was from the mission debriefing, only being emphasized in Solline's mind when she saw the vessel they were to embark in. This is new... never seen a caravan vessel this narrow before. And Lite? I wonder what the original looks like.
The sight of the vessel's seatbelts were... something, but at this point Solline had accepted that this was no ordinary mission and yet she was still a little captivated by them, staring at them just wondering how exactly one is supposed to put that on. Before she was able to look at anything else, however, Mavi clapped her hands to get the group's attention and after asking if anyone had questions, Solline only had one thing to say, which she uttered in her typical sassy sounding tone. "This thing isn't gonna turn our insides out right?"
A little while after she joined the group in waiting, a young woman entered the room from one of the hallways and approached the group. She couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle and smirk at the woman’s opening remark before she introduced herself. Aren’t most caravan missions we run pointless and dangerous. As the woman fiddled with the wall, Solline squinted her eyes a bit as the lights in the hanger got brighter before they gradually got used to the new levels of light, which traced the direction the woman pointed in after she did whatever the hell she did with the wall.
As Solline followed Mavi down the corridor, her eyes wandering from warning sign to warning sign. Well I’ll be damned, they actually have an appropriately decorated hallway for caravan missions. Her internal jokes aside, the peculiar and hazardous nature of the mission they were about to embark on began to become more apparent than it already was from the mission debriefing, only being emphasized in Solline's mind when she saw the vessel they were to embark in. This is new... never seen a caravan vessel this narrow before. And Lite? I wonder what the original looks like.
The sight of the vessel's seatbelts were... something, but at this point Solline had accepted that this was no ordinary mission and yet she was still a little captivated by them, staring at them just wondering how exactly one is supposed to put that on. Before she was able to look at anything else, however, Mavi clapped her hands to get the group's attention and after asking if anyone had questions, Solline only had one thing to say, which she uttered in her typical sassy sounding tone. "This thing isn't gonna turn our insides out right?"
BnemonicDevice
please curb my ham ham pang pangs
Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
Hiberus Shaw, Phobos Itself
Interactions:
Cresion Breezes
Clockwork_Magic
Mentions:
BnemonicDevice
and the Auxies.
The ghoul that is Shaw strode with hunched shoulders and grasping hands, a leer of blue stared at the participants of this excursion. Matching almost one to one of the operators from days prior. An incredible machination of destiny to have the same people from days ago in this million to billion space station with around a thousand operators to participate in this ominously vague and disaster-prone mission. Or could it be that dumb luck, that chaotic state of life which Tiphereth always preaches? Speaking of the stifling shrink, she is here as well. Luckily receiving an identical copy of the job offer presented by Halley Edmann of the Caravan Company. All so insipid. The Eskanight woman is certainly no crowd pleaser with her... method of reciprocity? The fearmonger couldn't decide whether this was an elaborate act or just how she is, but in either case reserved the same judgement.
The lens in his helmet adjusted automatically to the sudden brightening of the room by the LEDs while others squinted or used their hands to block out the lancing lumens. The shadows stretched from Shaw as he followed Mavi to their vehicular transport. Or their metal-alloy coffin with which they will be buried so far into the Planet's steel strata that the sun will never shine down on their corpses even after a thousand rotations. It would take erudites of all fields to ever find them. But alas, that would not be their fated demise. Or so Shaw surmises.
He examines the complexity of seat belts whilst taking position next to the Sniper, Soline. She asked a question and Hiberus was compelled to answer. "Regenerative, ablative shielding will protect the transport from thermal forces upon launch, while external dampeners and... Drag-generating movements will lower our speed so that we are not pulverized upon stoppage. If there is a fault present, we'll likely perish before our sensory neurons could detect that change. Well, unless you have variable reaction times." The Engineer came out in full-force today, glancing at the auxiliaries present.
Shaw folded his arms. "Our exfiltration is likely via return route, correct? Or is there another plan in mind to retrieve us?"
Interactions:
Cresion Breezes
Clockwork_Magic
Mentions:
BnemonicDevice
and the Auxies. The ghoul that is Shaw strode with hunched shoulders and grasping hands, a leer of blue stared at the participants of this excursion. Matching almost one to one of the operators from days prior. An incredible machination of destiny to have the same people from days ago in this million to billion space station with around a thousand operators to participate in this ominously vague and disaster-prone mission. Or could it be that dumb luck, that chaotic state of life which Tiphereth always preaches? Speaking of the stifling shrink, she is here as well. Luckily receiving an identical copy of the job offer presented by Halley Edmann of the Caravan Company. All so insipid. The Eskanight woman is certainly no crowd pleaser with her... method of reciprocity? The fearmonger couldn't decide whether this was an elaborate act or just how she is, but in either case reserved the same judgement.
The lens in his helmet adjusted automatically to the sudden brightening of the room by the LEDs while others squinted or used their hands to block out the lancing lumens. The shadows stretched from Shaw as he followed Mavi to their vehicular transport. Or their metal-alloy coffin with which they will be buried so far into the Planet's steel strata that the sun will never shine down on their corpses even after a thousand rotations. It would take erudites of all fields to ever find them. But alas, that would not be their fated demise. Or so Shaw surmises.
He examines the complexity of seat belts whilst taking position next to the Sniper, Soline. She asked a question and Hiberus was compelled to answer. "Regenerative, ablative shielding will protect the transport from thermal forces upon launch, while external dampeners and... Drag-generating movements will lower our speed so that we are not pulverized upon stoppage. If there is a fault present, we'll likely perish before our sensory neurons could detect that change. Well, unless you have variable reaction times." The Engineer came out in full-force today, glancing at the auxiliaries present.
Shaw folded his arms. "Our exfiltration is likely via return route, correct? Or is there another plan in mind to retrieve us?"
Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
Amiela Aeterna, BRUNHILD 059
The dark expanse stretched out across the pseudo sky painted across her ceiling, peppered with stars and the occasional faint plumes of gaseous galaxies. Little pinpricks of projected light show that was the result of an impulse purchase purchased Shell knows when. Space was a peculiar thing. It forced you to put stuff into perspective.
Amiela never really considered herself a romantic dreamer, at least not in the last decade of her life. Sure she might have had her hopes and end goals, real proper ones. But now all she had were castles in the clouds. The kind you saw in swirling shapes of payne’s grey hues and glittering bokeh lights with every drag of Ambrosia filling your lungs. But often these seemed like the twinkling of a faraway galaxy, faint against the backdrop of making through each moment of her arduous existence.
Not that she felt the drag. On the contrary there simply was no time to count each rolling second when your ears still heard the echoes of constant beeping alerts of the last of your family in hapless distress, jacked up to a machine that should not have been called ‘life-sustaining’ for the wretched figure before her had been anything but alive. No she did not feel the drag as her subconscious was stretched taut over the meagre expanse of her remaining artificially conceived lifespan.
It was why she did it. Flipped the switch. But she as hell did not forget the reasons why. Oh don’t misunderstand, she was under no illusions that any of her erstwhile sisters would’ve chided her for it. But that did not mean she didn’t have that compulsive urge to wash her hands thrice over whenever she was at the sink for she swore the water had turned red. Self punishment if you will, it only seemed right.
Her memories were white noise. Like the stewing gossip behind her back. A backdrop hum that susurrated in her ear as she pored over mountains of novels and etched random doodles into her book all in an effort to blot it all out. It never stopped. She never stopped. Stuck in fourth gear of the 'fast but not too fast', careening down the highway with snapped brakes and broken lights. It wore on her axles and weighed on her soul. So the only way was up. Into the blue-tinged darkened ceiling of borrowed peace, her lender the tip of a syringe and her creditor the pellucid azure cocktail only a barista of her accreditations could easily access. They called it Ambrosia. It was her debt of mounting interest rates. But it was a damn good one.
Perhaps that was why she was so afraid of the abyssal blackness. The void that both seemed infinitely large and infinitely confining at the same time. Space was silent. It demanded silence. You could scream till your lungs tore and nobody would hear you. Amiela didn't know how to deal with silence. No, not the one that bashed on your eardrums. The ones that scratched in the corners of your mind. The ones that enveloped you in stifling colours of umbral blacks and maddening greys.
Perhaps, she was finally going mad.
Brunhild’s bearer stood on the precipice of the long loading hallway, staring blankly at the details of the brief reflected from her communicator. A big part of her aghast that she was even there, apparently she’d accepted Admann’s call to duty; a voluntary one at that. She could’ve blamed it on the intoxication, but then, why was she here?
Why do you want to live?
A voice, mechanical yet astute, the conversation she had with the auxiliary still played through her mind. She couldn’t answer that question of course, but something about the sheer idiocracy of participating in such a mission made it all the more appealing. The thought - and act - of doing something that she would never in a million Shell cycles do seemed oddly appropriate. Like moths to a flame.
The fact that many of the Operators present were those she’d seen on the prior extermination raid mildly surprised her. It was only apt. Like how your midnight dreams seemed to be populated by the most recent people you met. Her boots clacked over the sturdy floor of the uncommonly built caravan. She’d already suited up, though her helmet was nowhere to be seen, allowing a cascade coral pink tresses to fall to her back.
Amiela largely ignored the presence of the others for the most part as she loosely tagged along behind Mavi’s tour entourage, but as the human wrapped up she had a pressing concern on mind.
Amiela waited till Shaw’s question was dealt with before voicing out her own.
“Is Commander Edmann not going to give a final briefing for the mission?”
For an expedition that seemed of utmost importance, the whole set up appeared too clandestine for her tastes.
The dark expanse stretched out across the pseudo sky painted across her ceiling, peppered with stars and the occasional faint plumes of gaseous galaxies. Little pinpricks of projected light show that was the result of an impulse purchase purchased Shell knows when. Space was a peculiar thing. It forced you to put stuff into perspective.
Amiela never really considered herself a romantic dreamer, at least not in the last decade of her life. Sure she might have had her hopes and end goals, real proper ones. But now all she had were castles in the clouds. The kind you saw in swirling shapes of payne’s grey hues and glittering bokeh lights with every drag of Ambrosia filling your lungs. But often these seemed like the twinkling of a faraway galaxy, faint against the backdrop of making through each moment of her arduous existence.
Not that she felt the drag. On the contrary there simply was no time to count each rolling second when your ears still heard the echoes of constant beeping alerts of the last of your family in hapless distress, jacked up to a machine that should not have been called ‘life-sustaining’ for the wretched figure before her had been anything but alive. No she did not feel the drag as her subconscious was stretched taut over the meagre expanse of her remaining artificially conceived lifespan.
It was why she did it. Flipped the switch. But she as hell did not forget the reasons why. Oh don’t misunderstand, she was under no illusions that any of her erstwhile sisters would’ve chided her for it. But that did not mean she didn’t have that compulsive urge to wash her hands thrice over whenever she was at the sink for she swore the water had turned red. Self punishment if you will, it only seemed right.
Her memories were white noise. Like the stewing gossip behind her back. A backdrop hum that susurrated in her ear as she pored over mountains of novels and etched random doodles into her book all in an effort to blot it all out. It never stopped. She never stopped. Stuck in fourth gear of the 'fast but not too fast', careening down the highway with snapped brakes and broken lights. It wore on her axles and weighed on her soul. So the only way was up. Into the blue-tinged darkened ceiling of borrowed peace, her lender the tip of a syringe and her creditor the pellucid azure cocktail only a barista of her accreditations could easily access. They called it Ambrosia. It was her debt of mounting interest rates. But it was a damn good one.
Perhaps that was why she was so afraid of the abyssal blackness. The void that both seemed infinitely large and infinitely confining at the same time. Space was silent. It demanded silence. You could scream till your lungs tore and nobody would hear you. Amiela didn't know how to deal with silence. No, not the one that bashed on your eardrums. The ones that scratched in the corners of your mind. The ones that enveloped you in stifling colours of umbral blacks and maddening greys.
Perhaps, she was finally going mad.
Brunhild’s bearer stood on the precipice of the long loading hallway, staring blankly at the details of the brief reflected from her communicator. A big part of her aghast that she was even there, apparently she’d accepted Admann’s call to duty; a voluntary one at that. She could’ve blamed it on the intoxication, but then, why was she here?
Why do you want to live?
A voice, mechanical yet astute, the conversation she had with the auxiliary still played through her mind. She couldn’t answer that question of course, but something about the sheer idiocracy of participating in such a mission made it all the more appealing. The thought - and act - of doing something that she would never in a million Shell cycles do seemed oddly appropriate. Like moths to a flame.
. | .
The fact that many of the Operators present were those she’d seen on the prior extermination raid mildly surprised her. It was only apt. Like how your midnight dreams seemed to be populated by the most recent people you met. Her boots clacked over the sturdy floor of the uncommonly built caravan. She’d already suited up, though her helmet was nowhere to be seen, allowing a cascade coral pink tresses to fall to her back.
Amiela largely ignored the presence of the others for the most part as she loosely tagged along behind Mavi’s tour entourage, but as the human wrapped up she had a pressing concern on mind.
Amiela waited till Shaw’s question was dealt with before voicing out her own.
“Is Commander Edmann not going to give a final briefing for the mission?”
For an expedition that seemed of utmost importance, the whole set up appeared too clandestine for her tastes.
Lucius Cypher
Delicious Friend
Interacting with:No One
After arriving to the meeting point Chomp made a note of those who had arrived. Other GPO's naturally, most whom he recognizes. For a moment he's somewhat concerned that this may be an absurd amount of operatives on a single mission but then he rethinks and considers this to be an acceptable risk. Being a GPO is not without it's dangers. A small group may be able to move fast but they may not be prepared to handle everything thrown at them and result in a total party wipe. A larger group, while requiring more logistics to support them, has a higher chance of having an operative capable of handling a given situation. Not to mention it's not unusual for non GPO units to work in squads of around 10-15 soldiers. Granted those were regular soldiers and almost never go into the same situations as GPO's, but if even so it works well for them and Chomp was confident they could figure out a similar solution for their current unit.
The other thing of concern was their transport. Chomp wasn't unfamiliar, in fact he was quite aware of how dangerous his massive and heavy body poses in a small transport. He has, unfortunately, killed a few folks when their vehicle was attacked and he crushed them underneath his massive body. This was likely why there was a pile of seatbelts meant for Chomp to strap himself down with. For everyone's safety he made sure to grab many of them knowing that in a mission like this, the last thing they need is for him to inadvertently crush a few of them to death. Though he would definitely need some help making sure he has everything rigged correctly. His arms don't quite work well in tight spaces after all.
Aside from the seating arrangement this was the last chance to gather any intel on this mission. While information about the threat itself is nonexistent due to how recent the distress signal is, hopefully they might have some information about the location at least. Even if they don't have a specific location, a general location and information on potential inhabitants and threats could go a long way. "WHAT IS KNOWN ABOUT THE SOURCE OF THE DISTRESS SIGNAL? ARE THERE ANY NOTABLE OUTPOST OR SETTLEMENTS ON ROUTE OR NEARBY? WHAT ABOUT ANY NOTABLE MACHINE THREATS?" An information network was hard to manage outside of the Polaris, which is why it's so important to keep records no matter how old or outdated. Anything they had that could clue them in on what to expect will allow everyone to prepare for anything, even the unknown.
Spoiled Bread
The Lord of the Uneaten
Ignette #501
"Figuring the point is the job for scientists and politicians. I'm here for the dangerous part." A small yet bulky red console displaying Ignette's avatar floated across the room and made itself comfortable by tangling itself inbetween the thick belts provided. The console was what practically called a brick device, a piece of technology that trades utility for better durability. The ship was a bit too narrow for Max Liebe to move smoothly inside it so she begrudingly left it in the cargo area and she had been moving around by using her GP to moves the small device. While the device was able process her voices just fine it seemed it didn't have enough capacity to do the graphics so she must be satisfied with a PNG of herself slapped on the screen.
"I do have a question though. What was the content of the signal? Must be very good that the commander immediately formed a suicidal rescue party like this." Even for someone who didn't care much about Polaris' bureaucracy, higher purpose or even her own life, Ignette still noticed how hasty the mission seemed to be formed. She already can guess what the driver's response would be though. It's probably be a variation of either 'I don't know' or 'I can't tell you'.
"Figuring the point is the job for scientists and politicians. I'm here for the dangerous part." A small yet bulky red console displaying Ignette's avatar floated across the room and made itself comfortable by tangling itself inbetween the thick belts provided. The console was what practically called a brick device, a piece of technology that trades utility for better durability. The ship was a bit too narrow for Max Liebe to move smoothly inside it so she begrudingly left it in the cargo area and she had been moving around by using her GP to moves the small device. While the device was able process her voices just fine it seemed it didn't have enough capacity to do the graphics so she must be satisfied with a PNG of herself slapped on the screen.
"I do have a question though. What was the content of the signal? Must be very good that the commander immediately formed a suicidal rescue party like this." Even for someone who didn't care much about Polaris' bureaucracy, higher purpose or even her own life, Ignette still noticed how hasty the mission seemed to be formed. She already can guess what the driver's response would be though. It's probably be a variation of either 'I don't know' or 'I can't tell you'.
Cresion Breezes
Beta Tester of Life
POLARIS
CH.2.2 OUR CHOICES (3)
“Huh?” The caravan driver had a confused look on her face as she turned over to the source of the question. She tilted her head a bit as if lost in thought before perking up with a ‘eureka’ moment looking expression on her face. “You haven’t been an operator for long, right? There isn’t much that can turn you guys inside out in one go you know.” She shrugged as she continued to set up whatever technicalities that were needed to piolet the iron behemoth they were going to ride. “Oh, did I not mention it, I’m not a GPO by the way, so you guys can rest assured that if I’m still alive all of you probably would be too.”
“Yeah, what that guy said.” She pointed over to the other man who answered as well, though not too happy about the fact that he implied she might crash the high-speed acceleration vehicle into some sort of wall. Of course, it was a possibility, as anything is upon this accursed monochromatic planet, but humanity had a sense of pride regarding these things, and often times it’s this pride that holds them back from complete resignation.
“Uh huh, since we’re using the linear accelerator to go out there most of the fuel tank can be reserved for return. Even though the premise of the mission might not be promising I have orders regarding the maximum time and distance we can be away for……” Mavi said, her voice trailing off as she focused on a few more setups, though a part of her thought about what she just said. A potentially fruitless yet dangerous mission, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say it was a conspiracy, but the safety concerns and what the commander asked of her previously all converged into something her soul of an explorer didn’t quite comprehend. “The reason we’re going out there isn’t to be killed, it’s to investigate after all.” She added.
The lights in the hangar were dim, because all power must be cut to compensate for the linear accelerator. The Nightcrawler Lite series was a recent development, and some hardware of Polaris’ hangars wasn’t tailored towards it. “Ugh, this is looking pretty bad, what did you even tell these people Boss?” Mavi muttered to herself, knowing what the commander in question could be like.
“Nope. He’s one of those ‘old school’ auxiliaries, his model is different and doesn’t do anything physical like your friends there.” She gestured to the two moving mechanisms of persons that were at the party. “Charging up the accelerator doesn’t leave a lot of devices for people to use, it can cause nausea of fatigue or whatever. Boss’ getting too old for that.” The driver’s tone was casual, at least for a conversation about their own boss. “But I can call him if you really need him for something, you wanna?” Mavi pulled out her mobile communicator, or a phone, and tossed it in the air a few times, showing the operator.
Mavi scoffed. “Beats me, if we know about the source we won’t be investigating it. That’s the whole mystery, it’s there even those it’s not supposed to be there, no outposts or settlements or anything like that around, at least not in possible traversable distance.” But that’s what makes it more exciting. Mavi thought to herself, though she kept that one private, this team doesn’t seem to be that keen on the entire mission.
“As for threats, since it’s pretty close to the Polaris orbit route it’s usually pretty peaceful and this is going to be mostly a surface exploration…unless you guys want to do a Shell dive, although I’m obligated to stop you I doubt I can if you really really want to.” Mavi thought back about what Halley told her, to tell the team to get out of there before anything goes wrong. However, she knows that she can’t do nothing to stop a GPO from getting what they want. She sighed slightly at the thought of that before continuing. “The entire section doesn’t do much other than sitting there. We’d probably just be seeing the usual, don’t let your guard down though, getting digested by a Wormbus is probably the lamest way to go.” That was true, although venturing into the eternal night was always quite a jarring process. Most of the time its the darkness and the unknown that it brings being more dangerous than the machines themselves.
“Hmm? Oh yeah, same.” Mavi replied in an almost comically dull tone. “I want to know too, it’s apparently similar to a distress signal but not much else is known, it’s similar but different enough from everything that we use, yet it’s clearly not natural. I suppose that’s what we’re investigating.” She sighed again. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Boss-I mean, Hal- I mean, Commander Edmann. I worked here since I was 16 and he’s never been like this with anything, you know, being all...” Mavi pointed her finger to her temple and did a little swirl. “...not right in the head.” She whispered to Ignette, since she looks the most receptive to this kind of information.
With the briefing completed so was the setup of the accelerator. The entire long corridor of the linear accelerator began to light up section by section.
“Seatbelt up guys, weight classes are on the bands, try not the crash into anything important and…yeah that’s all,” Mavi said cheerfully, as if she’s excited by the prospect of the Nightcrawler’s launch.
-
A CERTAIN STORY FOR CHILDREN OF THE STARDUST - VIDEO SURVEILLANCE FOOTAGE
-
“A long long time ago, we were able to fly, fly so high that the Planet itself was nothing but a distant dot like the stars we see in the eternal night.”
“But Ms.Mir, even third graders know what gravity is, and I already learned that in winter camp last year! I thought we’re here to learn about something new.”
“Patience children, patience. There was a way, and that is to become so fast that even falling stars would not catch you, and even the gravity of the Planet shall not stop you from escaping its grasp. But there is something we cannot yet overcome, it is decyphered from the ancient scripters. A force that will cause suffering to all those that try to leave the Planet.”
“And what’s that force?”
“The scripts tell about a force, one that stopped humanity’s ascension again and again. It could cause their blood to boil, their eyes to blur, and even take their lives. Yet humans will not yield to it. In fact, it was the opposite, the people of eld embraced this strife, they build machines and vehicles that simulated this. They pretended to fly away from the Planet, they relished in the sublime feeling this force put upon them, perhaps because they wished to escape, perhaps they wished for this exhilaration. To these people that wished to fly, its deadliness became entertainment, and hence, one day, they flew.”
“Hmm, that’s interesting. But Ms.Mir, did it have a name, the force you’re talking about?”
“Oh, silly me, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. The scripters called it, the ‘g-force’.”
“Ahem, testing testing.” The caravan’s announcement system rang out with Mavi’s voice. “We will be commencing launch soon, count down will begin and also be displayed, please note that we will be under 5-6 units of Planetary Acceleration for brief moments and it may cause some discomfort, but it will not cause any lasting damage for anyone, over and out.”
The digital displays of the Nightcrawler’s interior dimmed and a simple countdown began to tick.
10-
9-
…
3-
2-
1-
9-
…
3-
2-
1-
And that was it, the harrowing pressure of acceleration pushed against flesh and steel and plastics and other materials, as the Nightcrawler shot out of the side of Polaris wall like a pitch black bullet piercing through the wispy grey land. It rushed ahead and ahead, into the twilight of the Planet’s eternal night.
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Lucius Cypher
Delicious Friend
Interacting with:No One
After receiving answers to their questions, Chomp made sure to strap himself in securely into the Nightcrawler Lite. He was so tightly bound to his seat that short of activating his rockets or a violent collision, Chomp was effectively stuck where he was at. He would require assistance from the others to get out. Chomp made sure to put himself out of the way so the others would be free to move without having to squeeze past him. Since he was on a mission right now, Chomp didn't do much but sit there and contemplate their situation. They had received unconfirmed, unsubstantiated, and possible falsified distress signals from a location that they had no records of on one of the most peaceful routes the Polaris could take. So Chomp had a pretty good feeling that this was either going to be a waste of time, or they were about to discover something completely off-kilter of what any GPO would reasonably expect. A coin flip really.
Though Chomp was perfectly satisfied sitting where he was at doing nothing, in side of his metal mass he was on his communicator. Though they would soon lost contact with the Polaris after a certain distance, Chomp had a large archive of digital books, movies, songs, and games to keep himself stimulated over the long course of travel. As of late, since he had been trying to understand the organics and their motivations more, Chomp had decided to download a few visual novels regarding life and courtship among the organics to get better experience with their perspective on life. He even noted how some of the characters in these novels seem to reflect the general temperament and personalities of the various GPO's he would be working with. Hopefully reading their stories would give him a better idea of how to handle them.
The first visual novel he was going to read was called "Broken Angels", a story in which Chomp plays the role of a civilian organic who has to take care of injured GPO's. Their injuries weren't just physical but also mental, and Chomp had to be able to treat both their injuries. Chomp has yet to play this game yet and isn't too certain how to play it, at least in it's intended state. As an Auxiliary he could theoretically enter the game itself and change prompts and create options that aren't ordinarily available, but Chomp felt that this wouldn't work in the spirit of trying to figure out how organics think and operate: if he just changed things to what he understood, then he would never learn what others knew that he didn't. So he would not make any adjustments to the game and would choose only options given to him. He was somewhat surprised at the fact this visual novel also had music. It wasn't anything complex, but it was quaint and set the mood.
All of this was happening inside of Chomp. To any outside observer he was just strapped to the wall, arms spread out and legs tightly bound together, defenseless. Not that he thought anyone would harm him in this state, but he wouldn't really be able to stop anyone from messing with his body without doing considerable damage to the Nightcrawler in the process. He did make a mental note that he should ask someone to help him get off the wall so he could do a supply check for their mission, but Chomp was too engrossed in his visual novel at the moment to make any conscious effort to do so.
"This 'Sakura-chan' organic seems dutiful despite the emergency amputations, but I do not understand why she refuses cybernetics but at the same time wishes to return to duty. She would not be able to efficiently preform her tasks in this state, so I will command her to continue resting. Hmm. Achievement unlocked: Clipped Wings. Deny an operator a chance to recover from their trauma. Why was I rewarded an achievement that goes against my intended goal? Why would she not be able to recover from her trauma if she stays here to rest? And now it seems that I have unlocked a bad ending. Strange. I have only started playing and I have already lost. Organics are contentious creatures." Chomp thought to himself as he had to start a new game. Maybe he should consult other organics about for the optimal routes.
Clockwork_Magic
*Gears turning*
Solline
Interactions: No One in Particular
Regenerative what now? Solline didn't know what she expected to hear when she said that, something along the lines of what Mavi said, but nothing like what the masked operator said. That technical mumbo jumbo went right through one ear and directly out the other, not even attempting to pretend she understood a fraction of what he said. As the driver answered the other operators' questions, two things crossed Solline's mind: What kind of shady shit is this? and Is it too late to hop off? And then the driver said it was time to seatbelt up. I guess that's a no then...
The blonde took a seat not too far from the large mass of metal that was the auxiliary that strapped itself to the wall pretty securely and began fiddling around with her seatbelt. Now... this goes... here? The sound of buckles clicking into place and the belts being fastened filling the room as the other operators began putting on their seatbelts as well. Took a little while of figuring out what goes where, but Solline was now tightly strapped into the seat so that she wouldn't become a red splatter on the back wall when the caravan started moving.
Speaking of, when the thing finally did start moving after the countdown, Solline was having a less than pleasant time, feeling as if her brains were coming out of her ears and cursing herself for not writing a will before coming on this damned mission. When the caravan got to a comfortable cruising speed, she pulled out her phone. Since they were likely to leave the outer boundaries of the Polaris's net, Solline decided to do some net surfing before she would have to rely on her saved stuff and disassembling and reassembling Mercury for the billionth time for entertainment.
Scrolling through a Residential Sector news page, there weren't that much interesting stories. 'Extermination Sortie Successful'... yea, yea I was there... 'Patrons run out of local saloon in a panic'... probably a bar fight or something... Geez, does nothing happen in the residential sector these days? Solline was about to hop to another site to do some non-news related reading when a particular headline caught her eye. 'Local RS College of the Arts Short Story Competition Winning Story'... I guess I could go for some short fiction right now...
The story followed an unnamed protagonist who lived in a world of dull grays, much like the monochrome Shell, which was inhabited by humanoid shadows. The girl in the story remembered very little about who she was, what she even was, and what her purpose in existing was, going about her life almost akin to a robot following enigmatic orders while avoiding contact with the shadows as much as possible. That was until one day, where she by chance happened upon a few small winged robots, about the size of beans. After a while of having these robots in her possession, one of them suddenly came to life. It flew around the girl's head and illuminated the surrounding areas immediately around her, the shadows coming into the light of the little bot shedding their dark silhouette to reveal people just like her, reverting to their shadow form as they stepped out of the light. Before long, the second of the bots came alive, its light brighter than the first and its movements a bit more erratic and quick. The third of the bots took more time than the first two combined to come alive. Its movements were sharp, its light a bit dimmer than the first bot, but was the most comforting of them all.
One might expect a happy ending for the girl at this point in the story, however... One day when the girl was out with the third bot as her guide, the bot's light began to gradually fade. She frantically tries to reach out to it, trying to see what was wrong with it, but her hand never manages to make contact. The bot's light died out, the girl searched the ground to find it to no avail. She looked up in the surrounding area, the sky, anywhere, but she couldn't find it. In fact, she couldn't see much of anything anymore, her surroundings seemingly dimming. Whatever happened to the girl after that is left very much up to the reader's imagination.
From start to finish, Solline was engrossed in the contents of the story, resonating with some of the events in it herself. Thoroughly impressed, she went to the article's afterword where they included a quote from the author.
"'I am very happy to have gotten the opportunity to share this work with the school and I am very honored to have been chosen to receive this award.' - Celeste Nova, 2nd year student at Residential Sector College of the Arts, Literature Department." The quote was accompanied by a picture of the author, a silver haired girl with sky blue eyes.
Solline's eyes widened, a soft smile forming on her face for a quick second before giving way to a pained and dejected expression as she felt a pain in her heart. Solline mentally slapped herself. Get yourself together Solline! This isn't the time for this, I'm on deployment! Putting the phone down, she relaxed back in her seat, as much as one could with all the bulky stuff keeping her in place, and looked around at what the others were doing.
The blonde took a seat not too far from the large mass of metal that was the auxiliary that strapped itself to the wall pretty securely and began fiddling around with her seatbelt. Now... this goes... here? The sound of buckles clicking into place and the belts being fastened filling the room as the other operators began putting on their seatbelts as well. Took a little while of figuring out what goes where, but Solline was now tightly strapped into the seat so that she wouldn't become a red splatter on the back wall when the caravan started moving.
Speaking of, when the thing finally did start moving after the countdown, Solline was having a less than pleasant time, feeling as if her brains were coming out of her ears and cursing herself for not writing a will before coming on this damned mission. When the caravan got to a comfortable cruising speed, she pulled out her phone. Since they were likely to leave the outer boundaries of the Polaris's net, Solline decided to do some net surfing before she would have to rely on her saved stuff and disassembling and reassembling Mercury for the billionth time for entertainment.
Scrolling through a Residential Sector news page, there weren't that much interesting stories. 'Extermination Sortie Successful'... yea, yea I was there... 'Patrons run out of local saloon in a panic'... probably a bar fight or something... Geez, does nothing happen in the residential sector these days? Solline was about to hop to another site to do some non-news related reading when a particular headline caught her eye. 'Local RS College of the Arts Short Story Competition Winning Story'... I guess I could go for some short fiction right now...
The story followed an unnamed protagonist who lived in a world of dull grays, much like the monochrome Shell, which was inhabited by humanoid shadows. The girl in the story remembered very little about who she was, what she even was, and what her purpose in existing was, going about her life almost akin to a robot following enigmatic orders while avoiding contact with the shadows as much as possible. That was until one day, where she by chance happened upon a few small winged robots, about the size of beans. After a while of having these robots in her possession, one of them suddenly came to life. It flew around the girl's head and illuminated the surrounding areas immediately around her, the shadows coming into the light of the little bot shedding their dark silhouette to reveal people just like her, reverting to their shadow form as they stepped out of the light. Before long, the second of the bots came alive, its light brighter than the first and its movements a bit more erratic and quick. The third of the bots took more time than the first two combined to come alive. Its movements were sharp, its light a bit dimmer than the first bot, but was the most comforting of them all.
One might expect a happy ending for the girl at this point in the story, however... One day when the girl was out with the third bot as her guide, the bot's light began to gradually fade. She frantically tries to reach out to it, trying to see what was wrong with it, but her hand never manages to make contact. The bot's light died out, the girl searched the ground to find it to no avail. She looked up in the surrounding area, the sky, anywhere, but she couldn't find it. In fact, she couldn't see much of anything anymore, her surroundings seemingly dimming. Whatever happened to the girl after that is left very much up to the reader's imagination.
From start to finish, Solline was engrossed in the contents of the story, resonating with some of the events in it herself. Thoroughly impressed, she went to the article's afterword where they included a quote from the author.
"'I am very happy to have gotten the opportunity to share this work with the school and I am very honored to have been chosen to receive this award.' - Celeste Nova, 2nd year student at Residential Sector College of the Arts, Literature Department." The quote was accompanied by a picture of the author, a silver haired girl with sky blue eyes.
Solline's eyes widened, a soft smile forming on her face for a quick second before giving way to a pained and dejected expression as she felt a pain in her heart. Solline mentally slapped herself. Get yourself together Solline! This isn't the time for this, I'm on deployment! Putting the phone down, she relaxed back in her seat, as much as one could with all the bulky stuff keeping her in place, and looked around at what the others were doing.
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Ehb
Literal No One
Nor Clyde
Interactions: Anyone in general.
Okay good. They survived.
Nor's biggest worry about that launch was whether she'd have the misfortune of being sat directly next to Chomp. There was a very good reason for this very deep seated concern. But luckily, this time around she was happily seated elsewhere, so there was no need to get into that traumatic experience. Still...
"Those launches never get easier. It's a good reminder to be thankful to the bullets you're shooting out of your guns." The operator lamented. "They sure have it rough."
Looking at the once again random assortment of operators, she noticed something a little... quirky. It felt like Deja vu, actually. Weren't all of these guys around during the topside action the other day? Odd, but maybe just a wierd coincidence, probably. She chose to ease off that concern. The bigger concern was what to do if the mission would go horribly wrong. Yes, Nor knew that their main objective here was to just survey what that signal was exactly, but Sinnora had always taught her to think about the worst possible outcomes.
Most of the times, things usually would go without a problem. Go here. Cut this. Shoot that. Collect those. Leave. But, when the situation genuinely hits the fan, a couple of seconds of thinking about what to do while in a calm state of mind is invaluable when you're forced to act in that very moment to save yours and the team's lives.
So what could go wrong here?
The rover breaks down. Establish a perimeter, and hold out for rescue.
If they get ambushed. Fall back and regroup. Plan a counterattack or withdraw. Protect the rover - the only thing that can get them anywhere - at all costs.
If Nor herself is incapacitated beyond salvation..
Ask Chomp to smash her head in for a quick and painless end, probably.
Nor decided a long time ago that, if she had to go out, she'd want it to be quick and painless.
The main inherit risks of the mission was not knowing what they were getting into, and the fact that they were far from the Polaris. If something went wrong, they would only have whatever resources and energy they had with them. While Nor could not do anything about the unknown, what she could do was try to preserve her own energy. She had something for this.
Once their vehicle was comfortable rumbling along the crust, Nor pulled out a bi-pack that looked medicinal in nature. It was composed of a syringe, and a single tablet, all wrapped in a cylinder. The whole package was labeled 'Kohmapil'.
This handy little thing would put Nor into deep slumber. She was intending to save whatever energy she had for the mission itself. After she was knocked out though, she had to be woken up with a jab from the stimulant delivered through the syringe. She needed someone else to do that part. She looked around the cabin at the others.
"Hey, I'm gonna knock myself out till we get there. Would someone be nice enough to jab me with this thing in the arm when we get to the location?"
Nor said, holding up the still wrapped up Syringe and Pill. She had to make sure someone wouldn't leave her semi-comatose in the rover. In fact, though, maybe that would've been okay. Given her metabolism rate which was rather faster than the others, she'd wake up after a month or so.
Interactions: Anyone in general.
Okay good. They survived.
Nor's biggest worry about that launch was whether she'd have the misfortune of being sat directly next to Chomp. There was a very good reason for this very deep seated concern. But luckily, this time around she was happily seated elsewhere, so there was no need to get into that traumatic experience. Still...
"Those launches never get easier. It's a good reminder to be thankful to the bullets you're shooting out of your guns." The operator lamented. "They sure have it rough."
Looking at the once again random assortment of operators, she noticed something a little... quirky. It felt like Deja vu, actually. Weren't all of these guys around during the topside action the other day? Odd, but maybe just a wierd coincidence, probably. She chose to ease off that concern. The bigger concern was what to do if the mission would go horribly wrong. Yes, Nor knew that their main objective here was to just survey what that signal was exactly, but Sinnora had always taught her to think about the worst possible outcomes.
Most of the times, things usually would go without a problem. Go here. Cut this. Shoot that. Collect those. Leave. But, when the situation genuinely hits the fan, a couple of seconds of thinking about what to do while in a calm state of mind is invaluable when you're forced to act in that very moment to save yours and the team's lives.
So what could go wrong here?
The rover breaks down. Establish a perimeter, and hold out for rescue.
If they get ambushed. Fall back and regroup. Plan a counterattack or withdraw. Protect the rover - the only thing that can get them anywhere - at all costs.
If Nor herself is incapacitated beyond salvation..
Ask Chomp to smash her head in for a quick and painless end, probably.
Nor decided a long time ago that, if she had to go out, she'd want it to be quick and painless.
The main inherit risks of the mission was not knowing what they were getting into, and the fact that they were far from the Polaris. If something went wrong, they would only have whatever resources and energy they had with them. While Nor could not do anything about the unknown, what she could do was try to preserve her own energy. She had something for this.
Once their vehicle was comfortable rumbling along the crust, Nor pulled out a bi-pack that looked medicinal in nature. It was composed of a syringe, and a single tablet, all wrapped in a cylinder. The whole package was labeled 'Kohmapil'.
This handy little thing would put Nor into deep slumber. She was intending to save whatever energy she had for the mission itself. After she was knocked out though, she had to be woken up with a jab from the stimulant delivered through the syringe. She needed someone else to do that part. She looked around the cabin at the others.
"Hey, I'm gonna knock myself out till we get there. Would someone be nice enough to jab me with this thing in the arm when we get to the location?"
Nor said, holding up the still wrapped up Syringe and Pill. She had to make sure someone wouldn't leave her semi-comatose in the rover. In fact, though, maybe that would've been okay. Given her metabolism rate which was rather faster than the others, she'd wake up after a month or so.
BnemonicDevice
please curb my ham ham pang pangs
Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
Hiberus Shaw, Phobos Itself
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Clockwork_Magic
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BnemonicDevice
Lucius Cypher
Ehb
The Nightcrawler's explosive launch proved more skeleton rattling than Shaw anticipated, his teeth became the poor victim of hi-powered shivers. But as deployments went, this one did not particularly surprise him. The shadowy nature of this mission almost immediately disappeared from his mind's eye as he focused on the difficulties of the path ahead. So enamored in his predictions that he did not even notice his body sinking into the futuristic seat from the downward pressure. He felt a lightness in his stomach forcing him to -- summon his Engineering aspect -- muse on the efficiency of their bodily position, seating, lack of proper attire, compensation for labored blood flow due to vertical G's, and additional nuances that the others wouldn't care nor be interested by their existence. Well... Except maybe, Chomp but it is far more likely that the auxiliary is already associated in the matters of vessel deployment over geosynchronous orbit.
Shaw's head turns at an excruciatingly slow speed to look at the massive behemoth. It is good that whoever designed the Nightcrawler had the fortunate foresight to envision operator entities with extravagantly different anatomical profiles. Because... improvising a shell to attach on the ship at the last moment would definitely not have been ideal or sending two crafts at the same time.
The clone operator, Shaw recounts her name being Nor...? Requests someone to assist her state once they've reached planetside. A syringe of sorts. Shaw's head noticeably tilts to the side and an eyebrow quirks up, but before he could offer his services Tiphereth cuts in line. He shrugs. Very well, let her have the honors. He knows she is probably only obliging so she could get herself off at stabbing one of them.
He looks to the sniper who seemed flustered by something on her phone. "Read something inappropriate?" The cool whisper of Shaw's had a noticeable slant towards amusement and fun-poking. If Soline could see through his emotionally-featureless facade, the mask, then she'd see a feces-consuming grin a canyon wide.
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Clockwork_Magic
Mentions:
BnemonicDevice
Lucius Cypher
Ehb
The Nightcrawler's explosive launch proved more skeleton rattling than Shaw anticipated, his teeth became the poor victim of hi-powered shivers. But as deployments went, this one did not particularly surprise him. The shadowy nature of this mission almost immediately disappeared from his mind's eye as he focused on the difficulties of the path ahead. So enamored in his predictions that he did not even notice his body sinking into the futuristic seat from the downward pressure. He felt a lightness in his stomach forcing him to -- summon his Engineering aspect -- muse on the efficiency of their bodily position, seating, lack of proper attire, compensation for labored blood flow due to vertical G's, and additional nuances that the others wouldn't care nor be interested by their existence. Well... Except maybe, Chomp but it is far more likely that the auxiliary is already associated in the matters of vessel deployment over geosynchronous orbit.
Shaw's head turns at an excruciatingly slow speed to look at the massive behemoth. It is good that whoever designed the Nightcrawler had the fortunate foresight to envision operator entities with extravagantly different anatomical profiles. Because... improvising a shell to attach on the ship at the last moment would definitely not have been ideal or sending two crafts at the same time.
The clone operator, Shaw recounts her name being Nor...? Requests someone to assist her state once they've reached planetside. A syringe of sorts. Shaw's head noticeably tilts to the side and an eyebrow quirks up, but before he could offer his services Tiphereth cuts in line. He shrugs. Very well, let her have the honors. He knows she is probably only obliging so she could get herself off at stabbing one of them.
He looks to the sniper who seemed flustered by something on her phone. "Read something inappropriate?" The cool whisper of Shaw's had a noticeable slant towards amusement and fun-poking. If Soline could see through his emotionally-featureless facade, the mask, then she'd see a feces-consuming grin a canyon wide.
Clockwork_Magic
*Gears turning*
Looking around the cabin, none of the others were doing much of anything really, understandable given the cumbersome seatbelts restricting what actions one can do when they're bored. The clone girl declared that she was going to take a little nap until they've reached their destination and that someone would kindly stab her with a syringe she provided when they got there, to which the albino series obliged. Of course you would.
She let out a sigh, looking into space as she rested her elbow on her leg and her head upon the palm of her hand. With nothing to distract her, her mind still lingered on the story she and just read, despite telling herself not to. Many questions naturally arise during and after someone reads a piece of literature, few of them have easy answers. Take, for example, the question: how exactly does she feel about the piece she just read? There's nothing much to contemplate there but to simply notice, acknowledge, and categorize your own feelings, albeit this may be easier said that done for some people and is quite subjective as it obviously varies from reader to reader. In Solline's case, the answer is fairly simple: pity and sympathy for the unnamed protagonist through some understanding of her troubles. That, however, is where the easy questions end. Is there any deeper meaning to the piece? Or should we accept it at face value? But if there is, what is it and why is it important in the grand scheme of things? All require meaningful contemplation on the work in question. However, this was not the set of questions that Solline found herself mulling over in that damned caravan.
Of course, one cannot hope to fully ascertain a piece's meaning without taking a look at the author, naturally beginning with the question of who are they? Normally, one would have to look at things like the author's note or look them up on the net to come up with plausible assumptions about their personality, however, Solline already knew who the author was, all too well. Celeste...
This special set of circumstances gave Solline a special question in which she didn't have an answer to: how exactly should she feel?
Relieved, that Celeste's doing alright...?
Happy, that she's having success...?
Proud...for her little sister...?
Or perhaps... sad, that she wasn't able to share in that accomplishment with her...?
Regret, for having kept herself away...?
Guilt, for having disappeared into thin air that fateful night...?
Or maybe... nothing at all...
After all, they're not even blood related. They may have lived under the same roof for nearly 3 years, but does that equate to the strength of a bond between those who share the same blood? They may share the same surname, but if one doesn't use it... they're essentially just strangers to each other... right?
Solline, properly zoning out, was brought back to reality with a slight jolt by a certain masked operator... Shaw... was it? "Hmm? O-oh, n-no... it wasn't anything like that. Just reading the news, that's all... Well, what little news the residential sector has anyways... I guess that could probably be called a good thing, but that just means there's not many interesting things to read about."
She let out a sigh, looking into space as she rested her elbow on her leg and her head upon the palm of her hand. With nothing to distract her, her mind still lingered on the story she and just read, despite telling herself not to. Many questions naturally arise during and after someone reads a piece of literature, few of them have easy answers. Take, for example, the question: how exactly does she feel about the piece she just read? There's nothing much to contemplate there but to simply notice, acknowledge, and categorize your own feelings, albeit this may be easier said that done for some people and is quite subjective as it obviously varies from reader to reader. In Solline's case, the answer is fairly simple: pity and sympathy for the unnamed protagonist through some understanding of her troubles. That, however, is where the easy questions end. Is there any deeper meaning to the piece? Or should we accept it at face value? But if there is, what is it and why is it important in the grand scheme of things? All require meaningful contemplation on the work in question. However, this was not the set of questions that Solline found herself mulling over in that damned caravan.
Of course, one cannot hope to fully ascertain a piece's meaning without taking a look at the author, naturally beginning with the question of who are they? Normally, one would have to look at things like the author's note or look them up on the net to come up with plausible assumptions about their personality, however, Solline already knew who the author was, all too well. Celeste...
This special set of circumstances gave Solline a special question in which she didn't have an answer to: how exactly should she feel?
Relieved, that Celeste's doing alright...?
Happy, that she's having success...?
Proud...for her little sister...?
Or perhaps... sad, that she wasn't able to share in that accomplishment with her...?
Regret, for having kept herself away...?
Guilt, for having disappeared into thin air that fateful night...?
Or maybe... nothing at all...
After all, they're not even blood related. They may have lived under the same roof for nearly 3 years, but does that equate to the strength of a bond between those who share the same blood? They may share the same surname, but if one doesn't use it... they're essentially just strangers to each other... right?
Solline, properly zoning out, was brought back to reality with a slight jolt by a certain masked operator... Shaw... was it? "Hmm? O-oh, n-no... it wasn't anything like that. Just reading the news, that's all... Well, what little news the residential sector has anyways... I guess that could probably be called a good thing, but that just means there's not many interesting things to read about."
Ehb
Literal No One
Nor Clyde
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BnemonicDevice
Nor was looking into those very stark eyes of the one person who had offered to jab her with a needle to wake her.
Why was this sort of giving her a bad feeling? Come to think of it, who was this operator again?
Oh well.
In this case Nor went ahead and threw caution in the wind. Before handing Tipareth the Syringe, the operator needed to free the special capsule from the packaging. That was easy, she just snapped it off. The syringe portion, now separated, was still partially wrapped, with a highly necessary cap covering the needle portion. As per standard procedure for these kinds of things, Nor had to explain the use of the Syringe. Even if this supplement was not especially rare (it was pretty common, actually) the explanation was mandatory.
"Right, like Usual, the Syringe is this thing. The needle is an auto-injector type, meaning that when you press the blue button on top, it will drive the needle in and administer the correct dose."
Nor took the cap of the syringe off, showing that indeed, the needle was housed inside the syringe body and ready to deploy.
"To administer, you take off the red cap. Hold syringe with your dominant hand. Position the RED end of the syringe over a good section of my arm. Once you're holding the syringe steady, use your non-dominant hand to disengage the safety on the trigger mechanism on the top BLUE portion of the syringe by twisting it counter clockwise. This motion compresses the mechanism that springs the needle, so make sure you turn it as far as it can go until it gives resistance to being turned."
Nor pointed to the section of the syringe, showing that indeed, it could turn to coil up the spring mechanism.
"Then, using your thumb, press the start shaped button at the top of the syringe, on the blue side to deploy the needle. Keep syringe in the arm until subject awakens. Then, replace the cap on the syringe to cover the needle and dispose of properly... blah blah..."
The rest of the speech was what to do if the subject did not wake up. The short version was obviously go seek a medical professional.
Putting the cap back on, Nor handed it over to Tipareth.
But before Tipareth could fully grasp it, she suddenly found that same arm grasped by both the clone's hands... rather firmly.
"...You are gonna wake me up right?" Nor said, smiling.
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BnemonicDevice
Nor was looking into those very stark eyes of the one person who had offered to jab her with a needle to wake her.
Why was this sort of giving her a bad feeling? Come to think of it, who was this operator again?
Oh well.
In this case Nor went ahead and threw caution in the wind. Before handing Tipareth the Syringe, the operator needed to free the special capsule from the packaging. That was easy, she just snapped it off. The syringe portion, now separated, was still partially wrapped, with a highly necessary cap covering the needle portion. As per standard procedure for these kinds of things, Nor had to explain the use of the Syringe. Even if this supplement was not especially rare (it was pretty common, actually) the explanation was mandatory.
"Right, like Usual, the Syringe is this thing. The needle is an auto-injector type, meaning that when you press the blue button on top, it will drive the needle in and administer the correct dose."
Nor took the cap of the syringe off, showing that indeed, the needle was housed inside the syringe body and ready to deploy.
"To administer, you take off the red cap. Hold syringe with your dominant hand. Position the RED end of the syringe over a good section of my arm. Once you're holding the syringe steady, use your non-dominant hand to disengage the safety on the trigger mechanism on the top BLUE portion of the syringe by twisting it counter clockwise. This motion compresses the mechanism that springs the needle, so make sure you turn it as far as it can go until it gives resistance to being turned."
Nor pointed to the section of the syringe, showing that indeed, it could turn to coil up the spring mechanism.
"Then, using your thumb, press the start shaped button at the top of the syringe, on the blue side to deploy the needle. Keep syringe in the arm until subject awakens. Then, replace the cap on the syringe to cover the needle and dispose of properly... blah blah..."
The rest of the speech was what to do if the subject did not wake up. The short version was obviously go seek a medical professional.
Putting the cap back on, Nor handed it over to Tipareth.
But before Tipareth could fully grasp it, she suddenly found that same arm grasped by both the clone's hands... rather firmly.
"...You are gonna wake me up right?" Nor said, smiling.
BnemonicDevice
please curb my ham ham pang pangs
Cresion Breezes
Beta Tester of Life
POLARIS
CH.2.3 OUR CHOICES (4)
There was always a resounding silence out in the Shell, or at least that’s what the people who have traversed it say. A primordial humming envelops the monochromatic landscape, so soft yet so ear piercing. It’s a sound with a thousand, a million crackling arms that reach out to every corner of this forsaken world, the cumulation of an entire planet’s worth of industrial dust falling upon a cold steel surface with an inaudible ‘thump’. Some theorized that this is the sound of the collective utilities that reside within the Shell, the countless years of mystery, of the unknown, of perhaps civilization, or perhaps something more grandiose. No matter what it is, it matters not to the measly creatures that walk its surface, all they care about is not being driven insane by the constantly unending humming of machinery.
“Rise and shine, everybody.”
It was the caravan driver, Mavi’s voice. A tone that is a far cry from her peppiness before the voyage.
“Welcome, to the outer communications layer.”
The shuttered windows of the caravan flickered open, and bouts of soft glow gently leaked into the vessel. Mavi’s voice was calm, even almost soothing. The words were spoken with a near-religious reverence.
The outside world was…well, it was the Shell. Enveloped in a dim yet oddly calming fading night. A soft line of life came from the horizon, with the sharp silhouettes of high rising structures casting elongated shadows, carving out eerie shapes that stood in front of the gentle pink eternal dawn, the eternal twilight. They stand between the voyagers of the Shell and Polaris.
This was the edge of the habitable zone, as the temperatures dropped a fair bit. A layer of frost encrusted some of the ground and dust mixed with snowy flurries swirled occasionally in areas with peculiar feats of structural design, they sparkle under traces of light that shone over the horizons past those eerie shadows. The entire area was cast in this, optical sparks born of dust and the cold, mingling under a glowing pelt of a sunrise that would never truly come for humanity.
Mavi returned to her seat at the control panel, the sublime dawn of the outer communications layer lining her features through the caravan’s now unshuttered window.
“It’s this area, there’s some chasm up ahead that vehicles can’t traverse. We’ve almost hit the travel limit anyways.” She muttered. “There’s probably a Rebuilder in the chasm judging by a preliminary structure analysis, keep your guard up if you have your back to the glowy side.” It was true, that many incidents originated from the fact that operators failed to see things, just because it was covered up by their own shadow.
The chasm lay in the Shell’s dusty porcelain landscape, a mawl of darkness in the sea of monochromatic plates and high rises. It might be described as a crack or a scar by poetic human souls awed by its size and scope, but in the grand scheme of things, it is naught but a barely noticeable blemish on the mechanical expanse.
Mavi’s analysis seems to be correct, as a lumbering cubic plate slowly moved upon the wall of the chasm. A Rebuilder climbed the chasm with its small bristle feet that clung hard onto the pipelines and mechanical wirings of the wall. Its movements were slow, from a distance it seemed almost docile. However, Rebuilders were never pushovers. They did not attack, yet they would not hesitate to erase and rebuild anything that stood in their path. Some of this one’s legs twitched erratically at times, and the metal platings of its body sometimes shook and exerted some warm gas that melted away icy dust particles lingering in the air. It still held on to the wall though, the faithful Rebuilder it is, slowly spitting out plaster-like material beneath its vertical path in hope of one day mending the barely noticeable blemish of a chasm.
Soon the faithful giant emerged, its metal plating reflecting the dim sunlight as the frost encrusting the covering melted down somewhat, revealing the dark steel beneath. It released more exhaust into the air as if taking a deep breath after finally sticking its fatigued working motherboard into the atmosphere of the surface.
-
[Perception] - The Corner of the Rebuilder
-
In the corner of the Rebuilder, a bit covered by the exhausted steam (that incidentally turned light pink under the glow of the pale sunlight), was an unusual bit of…structural design, one might call. Perhaps it would be easily dismissed as some sort of mechanical part that torqued itself into the thin opening between the Rebuilder’s external plates, yet there was something particular about its shape.
It seemed like a cylinder, but unlike the well-measured variety of cylindrical parts often found in the Shell, this one was obviously irregular. The two sides of the shape were clearly unequal, being thinner on one. If one’s eyes would follow the thinning of the shape through its end, there would be another irregular shape that would be a lot more difficult to describe in the Shell’s sterile geometric terms than the previous cylindrical object, but luckily, anyone who would bear witness to it does possess the necessary faculties to understand that this shape is.
It’s a human hand.
More specifically, a GP Operator’s hand. Even under the dimming and slightly pinkish light of the outer communications layer, the faded colour of the stains around the hand and metal contrasted harshly with the monochromatic paleness of the Shell. It was a bright neon colour, or it likely once was, a bright neon in the hue between green and yellow, a distinct lime hue. Such a bright stain was familiar to any operator with exploration or combat experience — the hue of apotheosis fluid.
Upon closer inspection, the arm itself also possesses a much warmer hue than its surroundings, a light ashy tone tinged with olive, perhaps undertoned with a reddish brown or beige that is distinctive to the skin of organic life. ‘Life’ in this context may be inaccurate, as the jagged white bits that could be misconstrued as mechanical Shell bits can now be properly inferred as shards of cracked bone. Complete with a gelatinous substance similar to bone marrow and sinew-like fibers splattered around the area, all in the same apotheosis fluid-y hue.
The arm itself was devoided of that ‘life’, but its owner may have had better luck.
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