Auxesia - Stories on the Eidolon Wraith

[A/)- The Inner Phalanx]

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The Morning After

Last night, as he heard the faint whisper call out to him from the hangar, Hunt left the quarters in a hurry. He worked his way through the halls and down the various staircases, passing the security along the way. He arrived at the hangar and approached the Prosecutor which had recently arrived. He let out a sigh, and climbed on board, unsure of what he would find. He worked his way to the pilot's seat, finding Raven curled up and sound asleep. He smiled slightly, and picked her up, placing a hand on her back to support her up. Hunt navigated his way out of the small fighter with her in his arms, carefully lowering himself down to the floor of the hangar. He began the trip back to their quarters, up the stairs, past security, and through the dimly lit halls of the Wraith. Arriving finally, he pushed open the door and carried Raven through the entrance hall to the main room. He turned and proceeded straight to the bedroom. He set her down on the bed and tucked her in. Hunt leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You too." He said softly, in response to her words when she arrived. He walked around to the opposite side and crawled into bed, snuggling up with her, placing an arm around her waist.

Nesrin grimaced. She'd received a text ping, but never read the message. One of the inherent difficulties of using quantum data communication in the intranet was the tendency for said data to go randomly missing. Viva relativistic computers. :: [Text Khan -> Hunt: You sent me a message ping, Sir?] :: Having spent the last seven hours resting, Hunt awoke to his communicator beeping from the end table to his side. His eyes opened and he gave off a stretch, exhaling as he did. He rubbed his face and sat up, reaching over lazily for the device. :: [Text Hunt -> Khan: Yeah, I was responding to your message from a few days ago. You mentioned you needed me or the Keeper, I believe.] :: Hunt finished typing his response and hit send. Meanwhile, within his quarters, Tacitus began to type furiously away at his datapad. [Text Tacitus - >Nesrin]::"Got any old friends or willing parties we can exploit for leads in our investigation?":: He pressed send and paced around his room, eager to hear from his new found friend. Another ping, and another - catching Nesrin right in the middle of one of the toughest ordinance manufacturing predicaments ever seen outside the houses. Ruefully, she flashed down the template for the micro-supercollider press into a secondary tab on her PDA. Who needs an armory officer anyway? Screw 'em. Derek or Hunt. Rank or responsibility?

:: [Text Khan -> Hunt: Yes Sir - concerns a project I've had for upgrading our infantry combat capabilities. Due to the lack of general communication from HC I've taken the liberty of proceeding with the initial phases myself using the in-armory nano press to run a few concept models, although it's getting to the point I'll need administrative oversight, especially since Glass won't let me test my own ordinance myself. Not since the incident. ] :: Nesrin made her choice on who to respond to, typing into her PDA rapidly. :: [Text Hunt -> Khan: Right. We'll schedule something tomorrow. I'll be sure to bring Raven along for it.] :: Hunt sighed and flopped back down to his pillow, sprawling out ever so slightly on the bed, doing his best to avoid waking up Raven. Meanwhile, Tacitus quietly slipped into his third suit which had recently finished being calibrated, it was sleek and black. Meant purely for reconnaissance. Not as heavily armored but dangerously efficient if combat didn't happen to be the sole focus. Elsewhere, Noah Xonnel followed his usual type of procedure over the day, spending most of his time training in one of the rooms for it. At this time, he was improving on his martial arts skill and concentration, using either the punching bag or nothing around him to practice. "Another twenty-four hours. Blasé." Khan ground her teeth. At least he entrusted her to do her job.

:: [Text Khan -> Hunt: I'm in the armory now working on the Mk 2 model. Essentially the concept was a modular infantry combat system to augment the modular warfare system. Integrated HUD-to-barrel targeting feedback, neural-metric operation designed to prevent the gun from firing in the hands of a non-registered operator, the fundamental essentials. We need to start in-housing some of munitions manufacturing. Initially I was going to go for a second generation tachyon blaster or a railgun concept, but eventually decided on a gluon plasma model using compact singularity cores. Absolutely lethal in combat and highly environment resistant, but a pain to produce - I won't bore you with the physics, but it'll put our infantry weapons at least twelve years ahead of anything the Order or the Core are fielding. I've already got Tacitus field testing one of the three initial prototypes. ] :: Khan typed out, sending another message to Hunt. Her eagerness to see her work put to the test was rather prudent in her attitude. Tacitus checked the gun Nesrin recently 'gifted' to him. He had it submitted to one of the weaponry workshops for a full case refit, making using the rifle much more comfortable and ergonomic for his own preferences. He even had them etch in her name on the side, since she was the one that gave it to him. With one firm arm movement, he raised it over his head and clamped it down on his back, the unit and his suit sealing together magnetically until he wanted it released for use later on.

:: [Text Khan -> Hunt: Slight problem is that the manufacturing is a pain, and our current nano-press is antiquated. That means another job for logistics if I get the go-ahead. Expect a comprehensive report with test simulation data in the next ten hours. Enjoy your sleep cycle, Sir.] :: Nesrin sent another message, realizing the time difference. Hunt groaned as his communicator beeped once more. He brought it up to his face to read the most recent message. He let out a sigh, reading through the massive wall he had received from Nesrin. Despite being rather impressed, his fatigue was getting the best of him. He typed in a response, hoping to end the conversation. :: [Text Hunt -> Nesrin: Give me an hour or two.] :: He set his communicator back on the end table and rolled over to Raven once more, wrapping an arm around her. He sighed contently and attempted to nap for a while longer. Nesrin rolled her bio-mechanical eyes. "Human problems, geesh." She said to herself. Nesrin was halfway through yelling at a hapless logistics officer for not ordering enough nanobots when the communicator cracked on her again. God damn it - this is why civilized cyborgs use internal comms. "Oh crap. Derek, right, right." She muttered to herself, bringing her PDA up to read the messages. [TEXT Tacitus -> Nesrin] ::"I'll get started myself and let you know what I find then.":: Tacitus had finished sending the most recent message. He left his room and walked his way down to one of the hangar decks, getting his Manta prepped for launch and setting his destination for Cambridge.

:: [Text Khan -> Tacitus] "Sorry for the belated response Sir, I keep forgetting about diurnalism". :: Khan typed, continuing her stride through the corridors. [TEXT Tacitus -> Nesrin]::"Focus on what you're working on, I'll handle it.":: Responded Tacitus, seemingly wanting to work alone. Nesrin slammed herself into the wall of the lift in a human reenactment of the wreck of the old Ninety-Seven. :: [Text Nesrin -> Tacitus]:: "It's manufacturing admin, Sir. It's not my specialty and it will keep.":: Nesrin lied in her message. ::"This is.":: Tacitus climbed a ladder up to the cockpit of his Manta and tossed himself into the pilot seat. The glass slowly slid back into place and pressurized the interior cabin, protecting him from the void of space and the ship automatically initiated a start-up sequence, checking all the bits of equipment before even attempting to fire up the engines. "God will not save you, deck officer Halsey, if there isn't at least one fighter on the deck with full fuel cells", Nesrin's mind flared as she sprung out of the lift, sprinting on all fours. The twin engines of his Manta slowly flickered to life and then immediately broke down, requiring a full restart of the engine unit. "Move!" The cyborg screamed, nearly beheading the head of Hussar squadron as she punched override codes into the hangar's pressure doors.

:: [Text Nesrin -> Tacitus] :: "Sir, kill your engines now or you're going to depressurize half of deck fifteen. I'm not playing around." :: Nesrin furiously typed as fast as her mechanical hands would allow. Tacitus immediately hit the emergency landing button, cutting his engine restart and setting the craft into a lower power state. [TEXT Tacitus -> Nesrin]::"You either have impeccably bad timing or a complete disregard for allied personnel safety.":: Responded Tacitus to the rather rapid message. Tacitus is acutely conscious of the small, gunmetal silver figure pulling maintenance feed lines out of Saracen One. [TEXT Nesrin -> Tacitus] :: "Or a complete faith in the acuity of your reflexes. Besides, I've had an entire week of people expecting me to operate according to their timelines. No more. You're going to wait on me." :: Responded Nesrin. :: "Stop trying to get rid of me in the guise of being polite. I know where you are, there's a tracker in the gun.":: Tacitus paused, letting out a long sigh as he debated his actions. He picked up his communicator and typed a response. [TEXT>Nesrin]::"Fair enough, Nessa. Get in your fighter and let's move.":: Nesrin grinned and popped the cockpit hatch, flicking the Guardian's fusion core from passive to active mode. "Mmh. Delicious hydrogen fuel." She jested to herself.

Deciding text messages at this point weren't particularly efficient, Tacitus tuned his comm's into the frequency of the ship she was hopping into and used it to directly relayed whatever he muttered into the communications module. "You read me? I'm on FTL com link seven seven bravo lima. If I depressurize and die out there because I didn't have time to grab a flight suit, it's in the cockpit voice recorder now." Stated Nesrin. "I read you, you'll be fine just...try not to die before we actually finish this investigation. I need your help on this." Replied Tacitus through the two-way communications link. "Roger - thanks for the admission. You've got a destination in mind, T'?" Asked Nesrin, flipping on various controls in the BDR-804. "Cambridge, the location of the incident. I managed to snatch the exact spot from the a media outlet that kept running the story. Until the situation prompts otherwise, we leave no liabilities alive. If the individuals we exploit for information uphold a connection to the respective offenders, bury them." Replied Tacitus with a slightly cold undertone. "Didn't think Hunt would be particularly confessional, understandable enough. And roger - you don't need to worry about any underlying moral compass here. Somebody tried to make a hit on my Keeper. That's cause to pull." Said Nesrin. "Copy that, firing up engines and launching now."

The bays in front of his Manta opened briefly, as an intense blue light roared out from the rear of his ship, hurling the entire vessel out of the tiny exit, which closed as soon as he had departed. "Wilco, switching OMS to 0.02 percent thrust, gravity dampening to full. Following you out the bay." Said Nesrin. The micro-thruster pods in the wings of Elhertani's guardian thrashed heat distortions in the rarefied atmospheric gas around her, releasing halos of spooling nitrogen that crackled white against the force fields. "Main engine start." The two primary engines in the titanium bird's silver tail flashed white for a glimmer of a second as Elhertani and her vessel screamed out of the bay into the still quiet of interplanetary space.

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