It wasn't all out yet. This she knew. Something irreplaceable had been forcibly gouged out of her, a bloody red hole that could never be replaced, no matter how much time passed, and it's absence was still raw, red, and fresh. If there was a bigger blow life could have dealt her, she couldn't think of it. But... for the time being, at least, she was able to stow it away... for a moment when she was alone, in the darkness.
Now she was truly alone.
No army at her back.
No Sentradas to guide her with his reassuring words.
No Sara to whisk her away to safety when she slipped on the razor's edge.
She could never face Trent and his family again. Not after this.
It was just her, now.
She could hear Formicarius' words, somehow. Their presence, at least, was some small measure of comfort. She simply nodded at their suggestion, slowly, shakily, pulling herself upright, face a mask of bitter shame, unable to meet the gazes of any of those assembled... or for that matter, to regard the remains of the woman she had once known any further. She simply stood, holding herself in sorrow, and allowed herself to be led away, her thoughts... unknowable to all but herself.
Statistics:Posted by GEAR — Tue Feb 13, 2018 2:13 pm
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"Chancellor... we should go. There's nothing you can do here. I'm sure they will keep in touch with you if they find anything." The agent placed her arm over Alfimi's back and to her far shoulder, giving her perhaps the closest thing to a creature comfort she had received in some time in pulling her shuddering body in for a half embrace against her side. There was perhaps something to be said that it was an act done in absolute sympathy - if Formicarius was acting now, she was truly a better operative of Hexenhammer than any the woman had met before. "Besides, it's not like your hair is going to grow back..."
Statistics:Posted by Enigma — Tue Feb 13, 2018 10:45 am
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"Ms. Elwren, please, you need to step away from that..."
Tooth ground on tooth as he watched the process work. As he all but felt the emotions working through her. Watched her tremble, watched her shake. Watched the motions build with each twitch, each jerk. The sound that came, that she tried to stifle, that neither she nor any other being that had ever lived could have controlled. He tried to keep his own composure just watching the woman in her emotional death throes. As she contorted, as she screamed. And screamed, and louder and louder. In the air-tight bay built for industrial labor and the operation of industrial machines, the sound bounded from wall to wall like an echo chamber, vibrated through every present atom of the Phoenix's ashes.
He had to clamp his hands over his ears to dull the head-splitting sound, lest the inhuman volume of the woman's loss slay him as well.
And more than that, the shockwave of emotion that rippled through his ethereal senses. He had never been nearly so sensitive in that regard as his wife was. She, who along with him had been so busy extending her senses in search of Janovsky, only for the shockwave of the woman's end to hit her like a freight train. It was a wonder Kyra had even survived, as she fell into a coma and the machine she flew was dashed against the Bugs' teeth. Then, as now, it had stabbed him in the heart, so solidly that between it and the sound he wasn't sure which would take him first, heart or mind.
Hawkwood shot a look to Formicarius, the only other being in the chamber. A look that asked only one question, that any soul not stone-dead might conjure in this moment. Why?
Statistics:Posted by Jadzi — Tue Feb 13, 2018 1:51 am
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Unbidden, she leapt over the railing, and hurried over to the object in question, slowing as she came before it. Her fingers pressed against its surface as she studied its contents. It was cold to the touch, and small drops of condensation had formed across the glass, now trickling down her gloved hands. Up close... It was so ugly, she thought. Sara would be aghast to know that such a thing resided within her. Her internal sensors checked its composition... and it matched flawlessly with her partner's own bio-mechanical construction.
She stopped cold, a realization suddenly gripping her fast.
This was it, she thought.
This inert piece of bone and metal... Had once been a living, breathing woman.
One who had once scolded her, and chided her, giving her endless grief about this and that, everything from how she dressed, to how she slouched, to her ideological preferences.
Had made her feel that nothing she ever did was good enough.
Had been a leash - and at times, a noose - about her neck as she tried to bring order to a world gone mad.
Had been petty, closed-off, and contrary.
Had been, at times, her worst enemy.
...
And yet.
She had held her, and told her that she was needed.
Had believed, even after everything seemed lost, that there was still something salvageable in her.
Had never once let her down, or broken a promise.
Had been the most patient, kind, and selfless human being she had ever met in her entire life.
Had been the only other person in the world like her, who had shared her pain, her soul, her body, her life - with her.
Had loved her, and been loved, even when neither of them were the best at showing it.
Had.
Her friend.
...
And she had dragged her to an agonizing death, chasing her own, selfish, petty dream.
She had been trying. Trying to hold it all in so badly. She had wanted to assess the facts. To determine what happened, how, when, and who was involved. She would write a report, and submit it. Then... Then, when she was alone, she could grieve. That was how it was, when you led. When you had responsibility. You couldn't let others see the hurt.
Countless times, she had penned letters to widows, to brothers, mothers, children... Placed calls, made visits. Stood watch at funerals. Given eulogies. That sort of thing.
Sara was good at that, she thought. She was always better at knowing what to say, and would offer a gentle, arresting hand when her temper might have gotten the best of her. In those moments, when she had felt her own voice die in her throat, and her tone suddenly change, speaking someone else's softer words... She had always been silently grateful.
It was one of the rare times that they worked well together.
She, Alfimi, in the guise of Sara, would always conclude by saying... that no sacrifice was ever pointless.
It was all for a better tomorrow.
For the Union.
For their new world.
...
Right?
So... then...
Why... did this happen?
...
"Sa... ra..."
Her own voice sounded distant to her ears. She could feel it, bubbling up from beneath. Everything she had been trying to hold back. She didn't want them to see. Not the mercenaries. Not Malleus. Not... Sara.
To Captain Hawkwood and Formicarius, as well as all present... It would have manifested simply.
A slow, drawn out, thin wail, like the tiniest pressure leak from a container about to burst, escaped her lips, as she bowed her head, shoulders shuddering. That was the last push she needed. The dam would hold no more.
Alfimi Elwren screamed.
It was a sound like nothing else on Earth. Dredged from the depths of her wretched soul, like a cross between a shriek of unspeakable pain and a guttural, heart-rending sob, filling the air, rising to an ear-splitting decibel as she sank to her knees. Flecked with static and threaded with tinniness, mechanical instruments and hardware strained to translate the intense emotion of the being they held captive, giving it an unearthly, artificial ring.
Her nails dug grooves into the container's surface as she sank to the floor, all traces of restraint lost. Everything was noise. Everything was pain. All she could do was scream in hatred, in frustration, at powerlessness, at herself, at Jacobin, at Sara... Everything. Another howl tore loose from her throat, as her head hit the ground, hands coming up to clutch at her hair, so tightly that clumps of it fell from her trembling fingertips to the floor below, leaving her little more than a shuddering wreck, convulsing against the hard steel surface.
It was the only time that the assembled would ever hear such a unique cry... for she was now the only being left that could make it.
Statistics:Posted by GEAR — Tue Feb 13, 2018 1:05 am
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If truth be told, he had come into the encounter prepared for Elwren's blowback. In his head, the entire exchange had been mapped out, slipping in those subtle mentions to try to lead her down a guided path he could predict more easily and counter. To string her along, gingerly, gently, and ease her into the news that her partner had perished. If she'd lashed out, as the bull stuck repeated with barbs snarling at the toreador, then he could have used the collective points to drive the finishing blow and end the outburst cold. If she diverged, there were a handful of set paths he'd imagined. All in all, the tactics of a funnel-user, applied to social interactions.
That she had just folded entirely was one of those paths, but not one he'd put much stock in. Folding, into oneself, to brood and nurse hurts, was behaviour he'd observed in her counterpart. And as the two were such polar opposites most of the time, anticipating one meant anticipating the other in the reverse. Now, though, he'd been left the bowman surprised at his own effectiveness. To watch a wounded animal collapse from a blow not meant to cut so deep. Compassion, natural for a human, stealing away any lingering animosities.
Thus he was left the sympathetic, the figure trying to offer what meager hope he could. And in so doing, it seemed, he had ceded his former position to Formi. From where she was standing, she could no doubt see over his shoulder, and what he was trying to bodily shield from Alfimi's sight. His eyes cut to her, his features draining of their warmth.
"... we did. Enough that we're sure she wasn't vaporized. Which is cause to hope that we can recover her core, as it were. It's a faint hope, but a hope all the same."
Behind him, about two or three meters away, was a clear rectagonal container with a seal on top - a repurposing of a biomedical bin from the ship's infirmary. Inside it floated a rough-hewn piece of metal and circuitry, like a spearhead with a girthy shaft. A sacrum, with the three lowest lumbar vertebrae still attached.
Statistics:Posted by Jadzi — Mon Feb 12, 2018 10:47 pm
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When the Captain mentioned the search effort, she simply nodded in silence, keeping her thoughts to herself for the time being regarding any such possibility.
When Formicarius elected to speak up and put a hand on her shoulder, she looked back at them with no small amount of surprise in her eyes, certainly not expecting that kind of reaction from an agent of Malleus Maleficarum. She grateful, however, to allow them to step into the conversation, for now simply... Lowering her gaze, arms folded, keeping her lips tightly closed.
Statistics:Posted by GEAR — Mon Feb 12, 2018 10:41 pm
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But just like that she was landing down behind Alfimi when they entered the doors to the other room, giving a whistle of sheer awe at the pile of trash before them.
"Wow," she uttered, placing a reassuring hand on Alfimi's shoulder at the gravity of the scene pressing down on them all. "Chancellor, I'm so sorry. But wait! Captain, have you found any sign of Sara at all? If there is no body then there is still a chance... did she usually wear a pilot suit? Did her body require oxygen at standard human rates?"
Statistics:Posted by Enigma — Mon Feb 12, 2018 10:21 pm
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"I did. I still am. We all are in fact. If you'll follow me, I do need to show you one other thing."
He cocked his head, nodding toward the ship. And proceeded to lead the way down to the open prow, into the empty launch catapult. The familiar flood of red light rained down on them from the perpetually-burning running lamps. Down the line, past the enormous hatches the other suits typically slid in sideways from, each stenciled in a giant block of a number. From there, to the small hatch alongside berth 4, the suit bay assigned to Sara's Phoenix Zero. And up onto the gantry at the very back, where an open door leading to the interior rested. A portal of white light in the crimson gloom.
His heels lit upon the floor in order to spring through the opening properly, a soft click before the swish of his coat tail. Silently, solmenly he led her down the hall, to the internal access to the berth. Waiting until she had come to rest outside it as well, he gave a slight, mirthless smile, and spoke again.
"Mind your head. We're trying to keep this bay sealed as much as possible, so in quickly, if you will."
He took another breath. Hesitating only a moment. And finally punching the last digit of the entry code in, the door whisking aside to allow passage. As soon as it was open, he rested a gentle hand on her back to both help ease her inside, and to follow as close on her heels as was comfortable. The door whisking closed again, as soon as they were through, leaving them on the gantry overlooking the suit bay.
The reason for the care came the moment the door had opened - pieces. The bay was not exactly occupied, but nor was it exactly empty. Lashed to the roof of the bay were the pieces of one of the Zero One's cannons. The rear portion of the rifle that normally fit into it was similarly lashed, just to one side. And then, in sequence, the distinctively shaped pair of sabers both units kept in the sides of their calves. And most of a forearm, the rear portion chipped away and chewed on until it looked as if it had been sand-blasted off.
The rest of the bay was filled with so many tiny pieces the mind railed at how they might be put back together. Pieces of every sort, at the finest level. The contents of the bags the workers she'd passed had been carrying. Screws. Pistons. Individual wires. As if the entire machine had been carefully disassembled to the most atomic level short of actual atoms. Or perhaps it had, and these were merely the ones that had slipped away before that mystical force had latched onto them securely enough.
"We are... still looking. We do seem to have the time, after all. So while I cannot vouch for Ms. Janovsky's safety, I am as yet hopeful to find..."
As he said the last of those words, he carefully shifted himself from where he was behind her, a few steps just to her left. Whereupon he took gentle hold of the gantry railing, putting himself somewhat purposely between her and a container further down the gantry's length.
"... well, something. Her black-box perhaps?"
Statistics:Posted by Jadzi — Mon Feb 12, 2018 9:57 pm
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youtu.be/bJsh9KyeV90
"Her... remains..."
As Alfimi Elwren beheld the images presented to her, her head bowed, rendering her expression unreadable as she pored over them, barely managing to mouth the aforementioned phrase. Finally, there it was before her... the nightmare scenario she had never wanted to see, to believe. Jacobin, with his claws curled around one of the few, indispensable people in her life.
...
That little ball of light... Was all that remained of Sara Janovsky.
...
She... Was too late.
...
In that moment, who could say what thoughts ran through the mind of the tyrant, the executioner, one of the fiercest and most wanted women in the Earth Sphere?
To Captain Hawkwood, and his familiarity with how unpleasant she usually had been to his crew, it must have been a tense moment. Would she lash out? Would she cry and scream and deny, deny, deny what she had seen? Would she turn the blame on him and his crew, for letting the woman she was intimately entwined with perish? Would she wring his neck, and not rest until every single one of them was dead?
"...I see."
...No explosion seemed forthcoming, as she finally spoke, quietly. Solemnly, she handed the tablet back to Hawkwood, her expression... surprisingly neutral, betraying little. Perhaps she had simply seen so much death, been through these paces so many times, that to lose even the one closest to her was nothing more than procedure?
Or... perhaps she had never meant anything to her at all? At that time... There was no trace of expression beyond a gentle sorrow on her fair features, still marred with the cuts of battle.
"Thank you, Captain." She said, evenly, eyes downcast.
"I know you did everything you could."
Statistics:Posted by GEAR — Mon Feb 12, 2018 9:28 pm
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"Well yes, I know that now. Unfortunately we were not exactly aware of that to begin with. That, you see, approached our ship and was unresponsive to hails. Being on a patrol for unauthorized machines, our task would have been to remove or destroy it. But Ms. Janovsky insisted on doing so herself. That it was here for her. And for you, by proxy I suppose."
His arms crossed over his chest, kicking back once more against the gentle caress of anti-gravity. His lengthy ponytail wafted behind him as he floated.
"Hence she went out to do her duty alone, there was no convincing her otherwise. Which was about the last I saw of her, personally. There's no particular telling where she is right now, but I do have my estimates. You see..."
It was here his head tilted. His eyes narrowing in a piercing gaze, locked squarely on Alfimi. A gaze reminiscent of a hunter carefully drawing his string.
"She sent a flare out a few minutes later, when she was leaving our effective sensor range. One to continue holding steady, even though I'd made myself known about our responsibilities. How we're a team and support each other because of the sheer vulnerabilities presented otherwise. How we don't just run off on our own because it suits us or because we think it our prerogative to shoulder it alone, or how no one else would be able to handle it. Having to repeat herself in that assertion just told me she was getting out on a limb, so at that point I ordered ahead, one quarter. At least until we detected weapons fire, at which point we deployed in earnest."
Unfurling an arm, he leaned himself over to tap at the device's screen, navigating through the file menu to draw another shot from another folder.
"Which is how we ended up in the sorry state you see. We ran headlong into the thing with forty eyes. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what happened, just that all of a sudden, the entire squadron was under attack from multiple vectors at once. And while I tried desperately to keep an eye on everyone, Ms. Janovsky was rather hard to see in the confusion."
Finally reaching the picture after a series of taps, which he seemed to be making at his own leisurely pace, he finally queued up the image he sought. It was a fuzzy, distorted, and hard to make out thing. A still from his suit's flight recorder, with blurs of motion as half a dozen Bugs whizzed past, and debris milled in the distance. His fingers flicked apart, trying to instruct the device to zoom in. Pouting as it failed to respond, he tried again, pressing more firmly through the thin material on his fingertips. And then at last, simply tugging the garment off, extending his porcelain pale, slender, and impeccably manicured fingers to finally execute the task.
There, now, was a shaky image of the Yatagarasu, half-obscured by intervening detritus. One arm was extended, the end of it lost in a dot of white. A dot made up both of a luminous ball, and a series of spindly strings extending out of it. As she gazed at the image, he mused in a more subdued tone. The whisper of the arrow loosed, and whistling toward its target.
"As I said. I honestly don't know for certain where she is, but I have my estimates. The ship you followed was working on recovery, in the area where we estimate her remains could have ended up."
Statistics:Posted by Jadzi — Mon Feb 12, 2018 8:46 pm
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Alfimi hazarded, blinking slowly, uncertainly.
Missing in action...? That wasn't like her. Sara would crawl back on stumps if she had to. So... What did it mean, then? She would have to see a recording of the battle, perhaps, to see how it played out. For now, she opted to wait for Hawkwood to explain at his own leisurely pace, taking the tablet gingerly, and observing its contents, ashen-faced.
"Yes... This one, the Raven... Was once my machine." She said, boiling it down to the simplest explanation possible for the Captain, pointing to it on the surface. No need to bore the man with the finer details.
"The other one... is Jacobin's machine, the Yatagarasu. It's... unspeakably powerful." She grimaced, turning her eyes downcast.
"...There was nothing you could have done."
Statistics:Posted by GEAR — Mon Feb 12, 2018 8:13 pm
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"The latter I honestly do not know, for reasons that should become obvious presently. Perhaps as obvious as the explanation for the former?"
He gave a toss of his head toward the split hull, and the ruined engine block. Now that they were fully on the port side of the ship, the extent of the devastation to the propulsion systems was more evident. The starboard engine loomed on the other side, still whole and pristine. It was highlighted all the more by both the gaps in the port engine's housing, and that the remainder were blackened with soot and slag.
"We were attacked while on patrol. As a result, I'm afraid we won't be going much of anywhere anytime soon. Even with a rush on the parts required, we're looking at the better portion of a month before our cage is seaworthy again. Both to rebuild the engine from scratch, and to repair the damage to the ship's frame. Probably going to have to refit the entire residential block at this rate. I'll have to see if there are any improvements we can squeeze in... if you have any suggestions I'm all ears. Oh!"
Then, as if he had abruptly remembered something, a hand leapt from his pocket and snapped its fingers. It promptly dove inside his coat to a hidden breast pocket, nimbly drawing out a smaller tablet, and sending it gliding over to his guest in a deft flick of the wrist. The immediate display it bore was the readout on the herald that had approached them in the first place. Like gazing into a dark mirror, Alfimi would find herself staring at her own ghost - at a shot of the Raven, in flight form, suspended before the backdrop of Hyperlight Sector. Next to it, a reverse-engineered schematic of the unknown now known only to her.
"Out of curiosity, does that machine mean anything to you?"
Statistics:Posted by Jadzi — Mon Feb 12, 2018 5:53 pm
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"There, see? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Still smirking, she kicked away from the group, giving a polite wave and calling back to them as she did, departing as quickly as she came
"Thank you Captain. And, please leave the repair expenses to us. Consider it my apology for being unable to get to you in time to avoid this mess."
Faustine turned and began to make her way back down a corridor at the bottom level, deep in thought. As she did, she reached out to touch the shoulder of an armed guard, who had been witnessing their conversation from afar, leaning in close to say, quietly:
"Run her face, will you?"
The guard gave a nod as she passed him, tapping away at a handheld PDA as he did, which brought up a security camera image of the blue-haired woman...
***
Alfimi seethed, staring after Blanchefleur before rounding on the Captain. Under normal circumstances, she would have bitten his head off, and he knew it, even standing there with that saccharine smile plastered across his face. She was even more infuriated that someone else had touched her Phoenix in her absence, likely undoing all her fine tuning in the process, if its mutilated appearance was any indication.At the moment, all she could was quietly resolve to deal with those issues later, and focus on her immediate concern. Hawkwood may have been surprised when she instead seemed to exhale (or some manner of mechanical equivalent), and took a moment to calm herself before continuing, saying earnestly:
"Captain... What happened here? Where's Sara?"
Statistics:Posted by GEAR — Mon Feb 12, 2018 4:51 pm
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"Ah, yes. This is Miss Alfimi Elwren, the assigned pilot of this unit. As she's been away, I was just about to offer my condolences for the damage her vehicle sustained in our little fender bender."
Turning his eyes up to the Zero Two's face, he mused further in that silky sing-song tenor of his.
"I perhaps should have kept it in holding after all, but my wife was most adamant to assist in our defense. And I'd wager she's as good a pilot, so I didn't want it said we suffered just because Ms. Elwren was called away. I doubt her performance would have fared any better than Kyra's or Ms. Janovsky's."
There. There it was. He was baiting her. That subtle comment, as he turned his white-gloved palms upward and rolled his shoulders in a theatrical shrug. Anyone who knew him knew his penchant for this sort of smirking pantomime. It wasn't so much that he was making fun of them either. It was just a manner of spoken footwork, as often artful as not. A coating of sickly-sweetness, the better to soften blows and dance around issues until ready to strike.
"These things happen, I suppose. There's always a bigger fish. Apparently, not unlike an over-ripe pumpkin after Halloween, this fish is named the Jack 'o Bin."
Statistics:Posted by Jadzi — Mon Feb 12, 2018 4:31 pm
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Alfimi turned to look at the Gyrfalcon's resident master as he arrived - for once, genuinely grateful to see him. His passion for prose and general airiness had often caused her to grind her teeth as she waited for him to get the point, but this time, she was happy to let him talk as much as he needed. Perhaps it would give her a chance to cool down, and absorb the information she had already gathered. Formicarius, fortunately, seemed to have wandered off on their lonesome, sparing her from having to give any awkward explanations for now.
"I'm glad to see you're alright." She said, the relief in her voice sounding genuine, at least, as she floated up to meet him, expression full of concern.
"You said Sara-"
She didn't get any further, another voice calling out from behind Hawkwood, interrupting her.
"Something the matter, Captain?"
Another woman approached, floating towards them with the practiced ease of someone well used to life in vacuum.
Alfimi was at first struck by her appearance. Compared to those around her, everything was... Sharp. Prim and proper, full of contrast, her short, jet-black hair and dark brown eyes contrasting sharply with porcelain skin, reminiscent of a sheltered aristocrat - yet her close-cut designer suit singled her out as not one of the idle rich, but a fierce contender in the world of business, where that dress was as good as a knight's finest armor.
There was a sense that she was the kind of person born to lead - who had been engineered as such - and to whom the tedious cat-herding of the masses that Alfimi had so loathed came as naturally and effortlessly as breathing. Her voice carried a tenor that betrayed a cool confidence, the kind that made one unconsciously sit up straighter, and Alfimi herself, unbidden, found her usual slouch absent.
"Hm." Said the new arrival, quietly, bringing a hand up under her chin as she gave Alfimi a cursory glance, studying her features, causing the ex-Chancellor to scowl as they locked eyes.
"You look familiar."
Without breaking eye contact, she said:
"Captain, who is this?"
"Don't answer that." Alfimi quipped instantly, giving Hawkwood a warning glance, before locking eyes with the newcomer, who, raising an eyebrow, responded with careful slowness:
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah, excuse you." Said Alfimi flatly, not in the mood to endure any more tribulations today from any stuck up Colonists.
"Who do you think you are, butting in all of a sudde-"
The gynoid was interrupted suddenly as the woman's hand lashed out, seized her roughly by the collar of her spacesuit, and pulled her in close, so that the two saw eye to eye. The sheer audacity caught her off guard, and she instantly reached up to close her own wrist about the woman's - but did nothing save glare back, perhaps afraid of causing an even bigger scene.
"I am Faustine Blanchefleur, Chief Executive Officer of Hyperlight Industries. I own this Colony."
Blanchefleur's grip tightened as Alfimi's eyes widened with surprise, and she somehow managed to lean just a little closer, voice dropping into a threatening whisper as she did.
"And if you show me that level of disrespect again, the whole lot of you will have to free-float your way back to Archaeon. Got it, bluebell?"
A snarl died in Alfimi's throat at the sudden, unusual mention of the nickname that the crew had occasionally tossed her way, causing her to blink, unable to muster a proper response. Blanchefleur waited a moment more, to see if the woman would press her luck further... but when no response came, she released her, reaching down to smooth out a phantom crease on her lapel, leaving Alfimi's scowl to deepen, no doubt spitting venom in the confines of her mind.
"Now as I was saying - Captain?" Said Blanchefleur, turning to Hawkwood as she did with a polite smile.
Statistics:Posted by GEAR — Mon Feb 12, 2018 12:51 am
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