Failure
The Sleipnir. Sunk. More importantly, Arcaile was dead. He was more than a commander. He was one of the finest officers I had served under.
And some son of a bitch Zeek. No. Not "some" son of a bitch Zeek. Ridden. He was there. And I had to tangle with his asshole cronies while Danyan got to fight him.
But that was neither here nor there. Ridden had sunk the Sleipnir. We lost too many ships, too many good pilots. Danyan was lucky. We nearly lost him, as well. Candice and I managed to make it out alive.
But this was a military blunder if I had ever heard one. We were the Vulture Fleet, the finest in the Earth Federal Space Forces. And we just got our asses handed to us by the Zeeks.
By the goddamn fucking Zeeks.
I sat in the cockpit of Jenny, staring at view screen, my hands white-knuckling as I held onto the controls. I could see Danyan's damaged Juggler, next to my own. I had to bring it in, since it was so trashed.
And the emergency crews were taking care of him. Candice was somewhere nearby probably, and then there was Cherish. But there was no Sleipnir, and half the fleet was gone.
Or at least, it felt like that. I finally released my grip on the controls, and slowly unsnapped the helmet from my normal suit. I let it float in the near zero-gee of my cockpit, as I just took deep breaths.
We had lost. Badly. Vulture Fleet, and it's excellent MS Team, had lost.
Why did it feel like the war just started crumbling now? Sure, we were alive, but we lost Arcaile.
I locked the hatch to the cockpit, and turned off the comm unit.
I was angry.
I was hurt.
Maybe not physically, other than some mild scratches, but emotionally, and mentally, I was hurt.
How could we have been so badly beaten. Just thinking about it made me angrier. I grit my teeth, and slammed a fist down onto a panel, yelling and cursing, wanting to just tear out someone for that loss.
My pride was injured, and that was unacceptable. And I just couldn't stand the thought that Arcaile was dead. Once I stopped swearing, yelling, and cursing, I drew slow, calm breaths, finally letting it out of my system, and flipped the comm back on. I had to check in on the squad.
"Candice. It's David. You alright?"
~
Candice had been feeling a searing heat tear through her limbs and through her eyes during battle, a maddening craze that only became stronger the longer she fought. Each kill, each explosion that blanked her screen for only a split second brought her a step closer to being completely immersed within the battle. Her hands jerked in precise motions, her feet twitched to judge the propulsion she needed, and then she did it. She became one with the fight, and she somehow came out alive.
Once she left that battle, however, her body turned stone cold. The remains of the Sleipner, mere shrapnel and other contorted substances floated in front of her as if time stood still. She forgot she was breathing. She thought of Arcaile Nasr, their upbeat commander of the fleet. She thought of Francisca, who wished her well before she left with a slap on the back and a toothy smile.
She almost didn’t hear David when he awoke her, his breathing just as heavy and her own. It took her a second to gain her bearings before she spoke, low and calm.
“I don’t think anyone is alright, David.” She took a deep breath, and continued, “There were a lot of good people on that ship. We gotta carry them with us wherever we go now.”
A single hot tear trailed down her cheek, and her voice quivered as she spoke the last bit of her sentence. She was still numb to it all, but later on would be a different story. She hoped wherever she was going had lots of sleeping pills.
~
E.F.S.F. Valley Forge SCAR-101
Improved Salamis-class Revised Heavy Cruiser
Side 7
Sublieutenant Altecha Chan was standing in one of the corridors of the Valley Forge, listening to the reasons behind a requisition request from the forward missile crews when suddenly he hears running footsteps behind him. He turns to see Chief Warrant Officer Mibiki Tsune and Chief Warrant Officer Antonia Bonvalent running towards him. They both salute and Chan promptly salutes back to allow his officers to catch their breath. Tsune urgently hands over a paper printout with a black and red header. The two colors meant one thing: Urgent Bad News. "Where's Tanoa, shouldn't she be here to see this too?" asks Chan.
No sooner than spoken did Executive Officer Ryoko Tanoa floats down an open hatchway in the cieling. Chan helps her down as she asks," What's the emergency?"
"News from the front commander," explains Bonvalent with an edge in her voice. It means something if the tactical officer is this concerned. Chan unfolds the message printout and leans against the wall as he began to read.
A death-like silence settles over the missile launch bay. The nearby crew members stop in the middle of their tasks as they watch their captain let out a deep sigh. His next words were soft but pierces the rumbling of the machinery around them.
"Captain Arcaile Nasr of the Sleipner died in action. He went down with his ship as well as the Pliskin, Asmodai, and Seir. We have reason to believe this is due to the cooperation of the Vereschagin Fleet and Zeon's ace, Johnny Ridden."
Chan crumbles the paper in his hand. Tanoa took it from him to read the dreaded text. She continues where Chan left off.
"Survivors of the Nasr Fleet will be retreating back into Side 7. EFSF Command hereby orders Valley Forge to assume emergency command and to prepare operational plans for the new combat group." She blinks her eyes as she puts down the paper. "End transmission..."
Four ships gone. Probably heavy casualities. Their combat strength has been effectively cut in half or maybe more. The Sublieutenant looks up at the officers in front of him.
"Captain..." began Bonvalent. She figures as Tactical Officer, she should say something. But Chan held up his hand to stop her.
"Inform Dr. Shadow to prepare for a medical emergency," he says," we are going to take in a lot of casualties. Get Schirmjäger to put LUCY on combat standby. Is the crew of the Missouri settled in yet?"
"Yes, the commander just finished space trials and equipment tests," answers Tsune.
"Very well, I'll meet with him tomorrow. I'll... address the crew in half an hour. Dismissed." His Communications and Tactical Officer snapped a salute and left. He is still leaning against the hull bulkhead when Tanoa slips a hand around his arm and helps him stand.
"We can hold the memorial service later Alty..." she says as Chan looks at his captain hat," especially..."
"...Especially with a million tons of Zeon war material bearing down at us," finished Chan. He lifts his hat and puts it on. They look at each other. They were here before, three of them actually. But now there is two. Neither of them want to even imagine if there was only one. Tanoa turns away from him.
"Ryoko...?" began Chan.
"Not here Alty," she insists," take care of the crew first." With that, she lifts herself up the cieling hatchway where Chan cannot hear her sniff softly.
Half an hour later, Altecha Chan is standing on the bridge with the rest of his officers. Ensign Gerhilde von Schirmjäger is holding Lucy's portable display screen. Chan grabs the ship's intercom microphone and nods at Tsune. The Communications Officer sounds whistles throughout the ship. The brief tune caught the crew's attention. Something important is going on.
"Crew of the Valley Forge," began Chan as he look at his bridge officers," this is your captain speaking..."
Down in the Combat Direction Center, Tanoa held onto a handrail as her crew kept their eyes on their screens but their ears open.
"...I speak to you now, not with the news of victory... but with those of sorrow..."
Chief Warrant Officer Karen Adiemus Shadow is hustling her nurses in her sickbay. Medical supplies are readied as they transform part of the ship's small cargo hold into a casualty collection center. The doctor ruffles her emerald hair a bit before tying it into a bun. Bedside manner notwithstanding, she's going to be busy.
"...Yesterday, the Nasr Fleet, under command of Captain Arcaile Nasr engaged the Vereschagin Fleet and the Zeon Resupply Fleet..."
Master Sergeant Maria Vasquez and her Marines are scattered in teams throughout the ship. Their normal mission is to serve as security onboard Valley Forge or engage in boarding action against enemy ships. Under other circumstances they become a major part of the ship's Damage Control team personnel.
"...Despite exceptional acts of gallantry and bravery, the Sleipner was sunk with her crew and Captain along with the Pliskin, Asmodai, and Seir..."
Master Chief Officer Dmitry Romanov has stopped cursing out his beloved engineering crew for the moment as they listen to the captain's transmission. Each engineer wore headsets so they could hear the intercom transmission over the sound of the reactor plant. A hushed silence fell over them and the rest of the crew.
"...We, the Valley Forge will begin rescue and recovery operations when the survivors of the the Nasr Fleet reach our location. The ship is also given emergency command of the battlegroup..."
On the bridge of the Valley Forge, Altecha Chan stood a little straighter as his eyes look around the bridge. Tsune is there with her massive headset on. Bonvalent is illuminated by the glow of her tactical consoles. Chief Petty Officer Winia Kisaragi stood there at her station with her usual neutral expression. The navigator, Chief Petty Officer Cora Noel, looks over from her station at the helmswoman. Warrant Officer Tina Solvette stood there looking straight out into space, hands tight on the ship's steering wheel. Schirmjäger holds Lucy's monitor close. The AI has a very passive " ('_') " on her screen.
"...By the authority granted to me by the EFSF Fleet Command..."
Chan grits his teeth before continuing.
"...I hereby announce the assembly of Task Force 35."
~
There were things Danyan was most certainly aware of when he managed to form a complete, conscious thought. First was that he was completely incapable of moving. The second was that he was NOT on the Slepnir, and the third and certainly most important, was the heavy feeling of death that seemed to permeate everything.
His body was numb. For a moment he wondered if he was dead himself, but if he was, he wouldn't be thinking about it, would he? Anyways, sensation slowly crept back into him - he could feel how tense his body was, and exactly where the straps were that prevented him from floating off the bed he was laying on. Still, his arms and legs refused to respond. It was rather worrying.
He wondered if he should open his eyes and find out where he was - it was friendly, anyways; He could feel David and Candice not far away...
...but something was very off.
Of the people he knew, very few could he identify by pressure alone. His wingmates were two of those people, but the third was nowhere to be found. Dani, try as he might, couldn't sense Arcaile. That was enough to spur him awake.
His eyes only opened a sliver, staring disfocused at the ceiling above him as his body began to register sensory input. He could hear the whirring and beeping of medical equipment above and around him, and a moment later, the sterile smell of 'hospital' hit him, but it seemed oddly diluted, and he felt a light pressure on his face. He couldn't be bothered to look. His body felt tight all over - likely bandages, but the otherwise numb feelings all over didn't allow for much estimate of how much of him was actually covered in the linen strips.
Despite the frailty of his consciousness, he continued to look for Arcaile, but found nothing, nor did he sense any of the pressures. He let his eyes slide shut -
- a flash of red, sudden searing heat -
- and open again with a gasp and heartrending realization. The Slepnir and her crew were gone. Their pressures were nowhere because they no longer existed, and the death that hung heavy in the air tasted especially bitter because of it.
They were dead. Arc was dead. And the man in the bed couldn't even cry. He couldn't scream his rage, he couldn't sob and wonder what he could have done differently...
All Dani could do was let his eyes slide shut, lashes displacing the few tears that had welled up.
~
E.F.S.F. Valley Forge SCAR-101
Improved Salamis-class Revised Heavy Cruiser
Side 7
The improvised casualty collection station on the Valley Forge is handling a steady stream of patients. The same is happening on the much larger Missouri, the Magellan II-class ship. But it is here on the Valley Forge that a tall German woman pushes her way into the casualty collection area carrying a portable LCD monitor.
Ensign Gerhilde von Schirmjäger turns sideways to let orderlies and nurses pass as she holds the monitor close. The moaning and groaning of the injured is unsettling but is far better than the deathly silence from some of the patients. She stops in the middle of the large room, trying to read the names on the clipboards at the foot of each bed.
"Oh? What are you two doing here?"
Schirmjäger looks behind her and sees Chief Warrant Officer Karen Adiemus Shadow walking up to them. A stephoscope hangs around her neck and her white lab coat is dirty with blood from the wounded.
"Herr doktor, we are looking for a patient," explains Schirmjäger," the pilot of the GM Juggler."
The doctor pulls off her latex gloves and throws them in a red biohazard bag. "Mmm, the newtype. He's towards the rear portside. Walk lightly, the patients there should be sleeping."
"Danke," says Schirmjäger before turning and carrying Lucy's monitor with her.
" ('_') " is all that flashes on the portable screen. Her embedded camera zooms in and out as she searches the beds around them. Suddenly the light on the screen pulses.
" (O_O)!!! There! He's over there! "
After all this time Schirmjäger has grown used to understanding Lucy's antics. The only thing that puzzles her are the log records of odd activity from Lucy's AI in the middle of the night. She'll find out what's that about someday.
They rush over to one particular bed and Schirmjäger checks the tag.
" \(O_O) Hey! Danyan Jhouty! It's me!" eagerly flashes the screen.
The German pilot-turned-caretaker hushes Lucy. "He's resting, Lucy. But it's ok, he's alive and going to get better."
" ('_') He's repairing?"
"Ja."
" (>_<) Get better armor! Luna Titanium is in season!" insists the blinking screen.
"..."
~
The close proximity of another made Dani stir again. He opened his eyes, this time more aware than last. His body was still numb, but he didn't mind. He looked left, then right, finally spotting the source of the pressure that had roused him.
A tall woman, he'd only met Gerhilde in passing once before, so it surprised him somewhat that she was here now, but a glance at the load in her arms answered many questions all at once- from teh once glance, he recognized the faces displayed on the screen and simply knew who was on the other end of it.
'I'd salute,' he whispered to the woman, his voice a hoarse croak, 'but I can't move. Hello, Lucy.'
~
"True enough." I cracked a small smile, just hearing her voice. At least, she didn't sound physically hurt. I leaned back in the gee cushion, pushing the helmet slightly away, watching it float slightly. It was odd, just watching it float around, as if God, or whatever being controlled fate, was just carrying it.
Whoever was out there, I hoped they were taking care of the Sleipnir now.
"Any cuts and bruises?" I started looking around at myself, but still speaking through the open comm, just checking to see how serious any of the cuts may have been. Superficial, but certainly representative of any wounds to my ego.
I finally unsnapped myself from the straps to my chair, and started to open the hatch, as Chan's orders came through.
New fleet. New CO.
But we'd be carrying the ghosts of the Vulture fleet with us.
Wonderful...
And some son of a bitch Zeek. No. Not "some" son of a bitch Zeek. Ridden. He was there. And I had to tangle with his asshole cronies while Danyan got to fight him.
But that was neither here nor there. Ridden had sunk the Sleipnir. We lost too many ships, too many good pilots. Danyan was lucky. We nearly lost him, as well. Candice and I managed to make it out alive.
But this was a military blunder if I had ever heard one. We were the Vulture Fleet, the finest in the Earth Federal Space Forces. And we just got our asses handed to us by the Zeeks.
By the goddamn fucking Zeeks.
I sat in the cockpit of Jenny, staring at view screen, my hands white-knuckling as I held onto the controls. I could see Danyan's damaged Juggler, next to my own. I had to bring it in, since it was so trashed.
And the emergency crews were taking care of him. Candice was somewhere nearby probably, and then there was Cherish. But there was no Sleipnir, and half the fleet was gone.
Or at least, it felt like that. I finally released my grip on the controls, and slowly unsnapped the helmet from my normal suit. I let it float in the near zero-gee of my cockpit, as I just took deep breaths.
We had lost. Badly. Vulture Fleet, and it's excellent MS Team, had lost.
Why did it feel like the war just started crumbling now? Sure, we were alive, but we lost Arcaile.
I locked the hatch to the cockpit, and turned off the comm unit.
I was angry.
I was hurt.
Maybe not physically, other than some mild scratches, but emotionally, and mentally, I was hurt.
How could we have been so badly beaten. Just thinking about it made me angrier. I grit my teeth, and slammed a fist down onto a panel, yelling and cursing, wanting to just tear out someone for that loss.
My pride was injured, and that was unacceptable. And I just couldn't stand the thought that Arcaile was dead. Once I stopped swearing, yelling, and cursing, I drew slow, calm breaths, finally letting it out of my system, and flipped the comm back on. I had to check in on the squad.
"Candice. It's David. You alright?"
~
Candice had been feeling a searing heat tear through her limbs and through her eyes during battle, a maddening craze that only became stronger the longer she fought. Each kill, each explosion that blanked her screen for only a split second brought her a step closer to being completely immersed within the battle. Her hands jerked in precise motions, her feet twitched to judge the propulsion she needed, and then she did it. She became one with the fight, and she somehow came out alive.
Once she left that battle, however, her body turned stone cold. The remains of the Sleipner, mere shrapnel and other contorted substances floated in front of her as if time stood still. She forgot she was breathing. She thought of Arcaile Nasr, their upbeat commander of the fleet. She thought of Francisca, who wished her well before she left with a slap on the back and a toothy smile.
She almost didn’t hear David when he awoke her, his breathing just as heavy and her own. It took her a second to gain her bearings before she spoke, low and calm.
“I don’t think anyone is alright, David.” She took a deep breath, and continued, “There were a lot of good people on that ship. We gotta carry them with us wherever we go now.”
A single hot tear trailed down her cheek, and her voice quivered as she spoke the last bit of her sentence. She was still numb to it all, but later on would be a different story. She hoped wherever she was going had lots of sleeping pills.
~
E.F.S.F. Valley Forge SCAR-101
Improved Salamis-class Revised Heavy Cruiser
Side 7
Sublieutenant Altecha Chan was standing in one of the corridors of the Valley Forge, listening to the reasons behind a requisition request from the forward missile crews when suddenly he hears running footsteps behind him. He turns to see Chief Warrant Officer Mibiki Tsune and Chief Warrant Officer Antonia Bonvalent running towards him. They both salute and Chan promptly salutes back to allow his officers to catch their breath. Tsune urgently hands over a paper printout with a black and red header. The two colors meant one thing: Urgent Bad News. "Where's Tanoa, shouldn't she be here to see this too?" asks Chan.
No sooner than spoken did Executive Officer Ryoko Tanoa floats down an open hatchway in the cieling. Chan helps her down as she asks," What's the emergency?"
"News from the front commander," explains Bonvalent with an edge in her voice. It means something if the tactical officer is this concerned. Chan unfolds the message printout and leans against the wall as he began to read.
A death-like silence settles over the missile launch bay. The nearby crew members stop in the middle of their tasks as they watch their captain let out a deep sigh. His next words were soft but pierces the rumbling of the machinery around them.
"Captain Arcaile Nasr of the Sleipner died in action. He went down with his ship as well as the Pliskin, Asmodai, and Seir. We have reason to believe this is due to the cooperation of the Vereschagin Fleet and Zeon's ace, Johnny Ridden."
Chan crumbles the paper in his hand. Tanoa took it from him to read the dreaded text. She continues where Chan left off.
"Survivors of the Nasr Fleet will be retreating back into Side 7. EFSF Command hereby orders Valley Forge to assume emergency command and to prepare operational plans for the new combat group." She blinks her eyes as she puts down the paper. "End transmission..."
Four ships gone. Probably heavy casualities. Their combat strength has been effectively cut in half or maybe more. The Sublieutenant looks up at the officers in front of him.
"Captain..." began Bonvalent. She figures as Tactical Officer, she should say something. But Chan held up his hand to stop her.
"Inform Dr. Shadow to prepare for a medical emergency," he says," we are going to take in a lot of casualties. Get Schirmjäger to put LUCY on combat standby. Is the crew of the Missouri settled in yet?"
"Yes, the commander just finished space trials and equipment tests," answers Tsune.
"Very well, I'll meet with him tomorrow. I'll... address the crew in half an hour. Dismissed." His Communications and Tactical Officer snapped a salute and left. He is still leaning against the hull bulkhead when Tanoa slips a hand around his arm and helps him stand.
"We can hold the memorial service later Alty..." she says as Chan looks at his captain hat," especially..."
"...Especially with a million tons of Zeon war material bearing down at us," finished Chan. He lifts his hat and puts it on. They look at each other. They were here before, three of them actually. But now there is two. Neither of them want to even imagine if there was only one. Tanoa turns away from him.
"Ryoko...?" began Chan.
"Not here Alty," she insists," take care of the crew first." With that, she lifts herself up the cieling hatchway where Chan cannot hear her sniff softly.
Half an hour later, Altecha Chan is standing on the bridge with the rest of his officers. Ensign Gerhilde von Schirmjäger is holding Lucy's portable display screen. Chan grabs the ship's intercom microphone and nods at Tsune. The Communications Officer sounds whistles throughout the ship. The brief tune caught the crew's attention. Something important is going on.
"Crew of the Valley Forge," began Chan as he look at his bridge officers," this is your captain speaking..."
Down in the Combat Direction Center, Tanoa held onto a handrail as her crew kept their eyes on their screens but their ears open.
"...I speak to you now, not with the news of victory... but with those of sorrow..."
Chief Warrant Officer Karen Adiemus Shadow is hustling her nurses in her sickbay. Medical supplies are readied as they transform part of the ship's small cargo hold into a casualty collection center. The doctor ruffles her emerald hair a bit before tying it into a bun. Bedside manner notwithstanding, she's going to be busy.
"...Yesterday, the Nasr Fleet, under command of Captain Arcaile Nasr engaged the Vereschagin Fleet and the Zeon Resupply Fleet..."
Master Sergeant Maria Vasquez and her Marines are scattered in teams throughout the ship. Their normal mission is to serve as security onboard Valley Forge or engage in boarding action against enemy ships. Under other circumstances they become a major part of the ship's Damage Control team personnel.
"...Despite exceptional acts of gallantry and bravery, the Sleipner was sunk with her crew and Captain along with the Pliskin, Asmodai, and Seir..."
Master Chief Officer Dmitry Romanov has stopped cursing out his beloved engineering crew for the moment as they listen to the captain's transmission. Each engineer wore headsets so they could hear the intercom transmission over the sound of the reactor plant. A hushed silence fell over them and the rest of the crew.
"...We, the Valley Forge will begin rescue and recovery operations when the survivors of the the Nasr Fleet reach our location. The ship is also given emergency command of the battlegroup..."
On the bridge of the Valley Forge, Altecha Chan stood a little straighter as his eyes look around the bridge. Tsune is there with her massive headset on. Bonvalent is illuminated by the glow of her tactical consoles. Chief Petty Officer Winia Kisaragi stood there at her station with her usual neutral expression. The navigator, Chief Petty Officer Cora Noel, looks over from her station at the helmswoman. Warrant Officer Tina Solvette stood there looking straight out into space, hands tight on the ship's steering wheel. Schirmjäger holds Lucy's monitor close. The AI has a very passive " ('_') " on her screen.
"...By the authority granted to me by the EFSF Fleet Command..."
Chan grits his teeth before continuing.
"...I hereby announce the assembly of Task Force 35."
~
There were things Danyan was most certainly aware of when he managed to form a complete, conscious thought. First was that he was completely incapable of moving. The second was that he was NOT on the Slepnir, and the third and certainly most important, was the heavy feeling of death that seemed to permeate everything.
His body was numb. For a moment he wondered if he was dead himself, but if he was, he wouldn't be thinking about it, would he? Anyways, sensation slowly crept back into him - he could feel how tense his body was, and exactly where the straps were that prevented him from floating off the bed he was laying on. Still, his arms and legs refused to respond. It was rather worrying.
He wondered if he should open his eyes and find out where he was - it was friendly, anyways; He could feel David and Candice not far away...
...but something was very off.
Of the people he knew, very few could he identify by pressure alone. His wingmates were two of those people, but the third was nowhere to be found. Dani, try as he might, couldn't sense Arcaile. That was enough to spur him awake.
His eyes only opened a sliver, staring disfocused at the ceiling above him as his body began to register sensory input. He could hear the whirring and beeping of medical equipment above and around him, and a moment later, the sterile smell of 'hospital' hit him, but it seemed oddly diluted, and he felt a light pressure on his face. He couldn't be bothered to look. His body felt tight all over - likely bandages, but the otherwise numb feelings all over didn't allow for much estimate of how much of him was actually covered in the linen strips.
Despite the frailty of his consciousness, he continued to look for Arcaile, but found nothing, nor did he sense any of the pressures. He let his eyes slide shut -
- a flash of red, sudden searing heat -
- and open again with a gasp and heartrending realization. The Slepnir and her crew were gone. Their pressures were nowhere because they no longer existed, and the death that hung heavy in the air tasted especially bitter because of it.
They were dead. Arc was dead. And the man in the bed couldn't even cry. He couldn't scream his rage, he couldn't sob and wonder what he could have done differently...
All Dani could do was let his eyes slide shut, lashes displacing the few tears that had welled up.
~
E.F.S.F. Valley Forge SCAR-101
Improved Salamis-class Revised Heavy Cruiser
Side 7
The improvised casualty collection station on the Valley Forge is handling a steady stream of patients. The same is happening on the much larger Missouri, the Magellan II-class ship. But it is here on the Valley Forge that a tall German woman pushes her way into the casualty collection area carrying a portable LCD monitor.
Ensign Gerhilde von Schirmjäger turns sideways to let orderlies and nurses pass as she holds the monitor close. The moaning and groaning of the injured is unsettling but is far better than the deathly silence from some of the patients. She stops in the middle of the large room, trying to read the names on the clipboards at the foot of each bed.
"Oh? What are you two doing here?"
Schirmjäger looks behind her and sees Chief Warrant Officer Karen Adiemus Shadow walking up to them. A stephoscope hangs around her neck and her white lab coat is dirty with blood from the wounded.
"Herr doktor, we are looking for a patient," explains Schirmjäger," the pilot of the GM Juggler."
The doctor pulls off her latex gloves and throws them in a red biohazard bag. "Mmm, the newtype. He's towards the rear portside. Walk lightly, the patients there should be sleeping."
"Danke," says Schirmjäger before turning and carrying Lucy's monitor with her.
" ('_') " is all that flashes on the portable screen. Her embedded camera zooms in and out as she searches the beds around them. Suddenly the light on the screen pulses.
" (O_O)!!! There! He's over there! "
After all this time Schirmjäger has grown used to understanding Lucy's antics. The only thing that puzzles her are the log records of odd activity from Lucy's AI in the middle of the night. She'll find out what's that about someday.
They rush over to one particular bed and Schirmjäger checks the tag.
" \(O_O) Hey! Danyan Jhouty! It's me!" eagerly flashes the screen.
The German pilot-turned-caretaker hushes Lucy. "He's resting, Lucy. But it's ok, he's alive and going to get better."
" ('_') He's repairing?"
"Ja."
" (>_<) Get better armor! Luna Titanium is in season!" insists the blinking screen.
"..."
~
The close proximity of another made Dani stir again. He opened his eyes, this time more aware than last. His body was still numb, but he didn't mind. He looked left, then right, finally spotting the source of the pressure that had roused him.
A tall woman, he'd only met Gerhilde in passing once before, so it surprised him somewhat that she was here now, but a glance at the load in her arms answered many questions all at once- from teh once glance, he recognized the faces displayed on the screen and simply knew who was on the other end of it.
'I'd salute,' he whispered to the woman, his voice a hoarse croak, 'but I can't move. Hello, Lucy.'
~
"True enough." I cracked a small smile, just hearing her voice. At least, she didn't sound physically hurt. I leaned back in the gee cushion, pushing the helmet slightly away, watching it float slightly. It was odd, just watching it float around, as if God, or whatever being controlled fate, was just carrying it.
Whoever was out there, I hoped they were taking care of the Sleipnir now.
"Any cuts and bruises?" I started looking around at myself, but still speaking through the open comm, just checking to see how serious any of the cuts may have been. Superficial, but certainly representative of any wounds to my ego.
I finally unsnapped myself from the straps to my chair, and started to open the hatch, as Chan's orders came through.
New fleet. New CO.
But we'd be carrying the ghosts of the Vulture fleet with us.
Wonderful...