Gap Stories #15

[The Soft Element]

Log Date: 9/2/12768

Data Sources: various sources

Event Log: 9/2/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: Equatorial Ring

9:57pm SGT

It was getting close to midnight on Sunthorn.

At least by the measure of the orbital fortress, at any rate. The Bastion ran on standard galactic time, regardless of where it went; a twenty-four hour cycle that could be neatly divided by multiple factors. The planets it often orbited, on the other hand, usually ran on different schedules, ones that did not fit neatly into the standard galactic measurement. Such was the case on Halcyon; and such was the reason why a midday meeting on the planet’s surface was a late-night conference on Sunthorn. The reason why certain people were still awake, when they might’ve otherwise been winding down this time of night.

And it is why, despite the lateness of the hour, Jaree has tracked Kori to the ring that divides the orbital fortress’s northern and southern hemispheres. The top floor of the equatorial ring, liberally interspersed with scenic overlooks and park areas, allows one to gaze through the thick glass dome of the Bastion’s northern hemisphere into the void of space. Or, in Kori’s case, to gaze down on the sunlit surface where is niece is currently deployed.

“You did well today.” Jaree states as she arrives, in the process of prying open the packaging for a jerky strip. “I was surprised you kept your temper in check during that meeting with the Genista leadership.”

“Only just barely.” Kori mutters from where he’s standing by the glass, staring at the paradisiacal planet they’re orbiting. “I’m glad Kaiser was there. The guy creeps me the hell out, but it seems like he’s good at… whatever it was he was doing in that meeting.”

“I’d call it negotiating, but it wasn’t quite that.” Jaree says, holding out a second jerky stick to Kori. “It was more like telling Genista how things were going to go, and then daring them to contradict him.”

Kori glances at the jerky stick, then reaches up and takes it. “I heard that he trained Songbird… I can see where he gets it from.”

Jaree raises an eyebrow at that. “I’m not seeing the similarities.”

“Songbird’s never been pissed at you, then. He gets this… look, whenever he gets pissed off. The sort of look that makes you think twice about whatever you were doing. Kaiser had the same look when he was talking to the Genistans.” Kori says, starting to peel the packaging off his jerky strip. “At least Songbird can relax, though. Kaiser just seems like he’s stuck that way all the time.”

“Kaiser’s built differently than the rest of us. He’s not runnin’ the standard package.” Jaree says, biting down on her jerky stick and ripping away a chunk of it. “I’m not complainin’, though. He got us everything we wanted from the Genistans, in terms of running operations.”

Kori contemplates his jerky stick, rather than taking a bite. “Captain Leafly, I think it’s pretty obvious that you should be the operations lead, not me. You’re far more qualified than I am, you have a lot more experience, and you keep your cool even when things are falling apart. I think everyone else would benefit as well.”

“You’re right. I’d probably do a better job than you.” Jaree agrees, chewing on a chunk of jerky as she folds her arms. Even when masked by the silver-blue fur, one can still see the muscles rippling below, the evidence of a militaristic discipline that was maintained even after departing the service. “But I’m not interested in doing your job. It’s too much work and I’m gettin’ on in years.”

Kori glances at her. “But I’m not qualified for this job—”

“Of course you aren’t. Does it look like I give a shit?” Jaree replies, taking another savage bite of her jerky stick. “Qualifications are a luxury for bigger organizations than the Valiant. We’re in the middle of a multi-system war with the Collective, across multiple fronts. We don’t have the time or money to go fishing around the galaxy for a qualified operations lead. The Valiant will make do with what they’ve got, and you are what they’ve got right now.”

His lips draw tight at that. “But if I make a mistake—”

“Then congratulations, you’ve found out you’re not perfect.” Jaree says, fixing him with her flat yellow gaze. “You’re an adult, Kori. You make a mistake, you pick yourself back up and you learn from it. You think the rest of us have never made mistakes? The only reason the rest of us know as much as we do is because we’ve made mistakes and learned from them. That’s how people get good at what they do.”

“I understand that. But here, in this position, those mistakes could cost lives.” he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Mistakes are okay, up to a certain point. But when there are lives on the line, there’s no margin for error—”

“Kori. Take it from someone that’s been in the service. There are times when you will do everything right, and people will still die.” Jaree says, turning to fully face him. “That’s war. You don’t get out of a war without taking losses. If you did, it wouldn’t be a war. You do what you can to minimize the losses, but you’re not going to save everyone, and you’ll drive yourself crazy if you think you can.”

Kori shakes his head. “I’m not sure I can accept that, Captain.”

“You have to. This is what war requires. You have to step up and meet the moment, even if you’re not ready, even if you don’t have the skills.” Jaree says, motioning with her jerky stick. “Look at Kiwi. She doesn’t know shit about piloting; she probably hasn’t come within fifty feet of a Titan before now. But she still volunteered to jump in that cockpit with Songbird because it saved him from the brain damage of having to pilot alone. And chances are, she’s gonna do it again, next time we have to deploy our Titans to back up the Genista squad. She wasn’t the right person for that job, but she was the only one that could do the job. So she did it. Because that’s the way things go in war. You do the best you can with what you’ve got, even if what you’ve got isn’t what you needed. You make do with what you have. People like Kiwi, people like you, probably aren’t what we need for their campaign. But you’re all we’ve got, and we’ll have to make do.”

“We’ve got you, though.” Kori points out.

“I already told you, I don’t want your job. I’m old and tired of that shit.” Jaree says, biting off another chunk of her jerky strip as she folds her arms again. “I’ll stick around and keep poking you in the right direction, if you need. But the only way I’ll be picking up your job is if you keel over and die from a heart attack.”

Kori snorts at that. “With all the stress that comes from running an operation, I wouldn’t rule it out…” He finally takes a bite of his jerky stick, or at least tries, gnawing awkwardly at it. “Damn. This thing is tough. I’m not sure human teeth can handle a Halfie jerky stick…”

“Put some backbone into it. My grandmother has more bite force than that, and she has dentures.”

“Was your grandmother a woodchipper? Don’t see how else she would’ve gotten through something like this with only her dentures…”

Event Log: 9/3/12768

Genista: Pilot Training and Residence Facility

8:57pm LPT

“The finest rooms, huh.” Kiwi says as she steps through the energy screen that leads into a well-appointed suite in the living facility near the Genista Titan Yard. “Damn. This place is pretty swank. The bed’s even bigger than the one in our Sunthorn apartment.”

“Luxury is common for pilot accommodations. Many of them are viewed and treated as celebrities.” Songbird says as he steps in behind her, pulling their luggage. Behind him, the phased-matter barrier solidifies in his wake, turning opaque and acting as a ‘closed’ door. “You probably gathered that from the reception we’ve gotten, though.”

“Yeah, no joke. It’s almost like we saved the entire outpost… oh wait, we did.” she grins, hands clasped behind her back as she rounds on him. “C’mon, admit it. It felt nice to get the credit for being the hero.”

He smiles, letting their suitcases sit as he moves over to slide his arms around her waist and pull her in close. “It did… though not as nice as getting to spend some quality time with my surprisingly gifted copilot.” He leans in, giving her a quick kiss, though his barely-audible murmur afterwards steals the joy from the moment. “Room is bugged. Let’s take a bath.”

Kiwi’s smile falters for a moment, her wildfire eyes flicking to some of the suite’s accoutrements, before the corners of her mouth curl again and she reaches up to cup Songbird’s face. “Well, if you want some quality time with your copilot, why don’t I get a bath started, and we can soak? We deserve it, after the long day we’ve had.” she offers, her voice well above Songbird’s murmur.

“I couldn’t turn down an offer like that.” he replies, giving the tip of her nose a quick kiss. “Why don’t you get that started and I’ll see about unpacking our stuff?”

“Don’t take too long.” she teases, a hand lingering on his chest as she pulls away, heading towards the bathroom. He’s quick to pull the suitcases over to the bed, laying them down and zipping them open so he can start rooting through them as the sound of water splashing into a tub starts to echo from the bathroom.

It’s a couple minutes later when he shows up in the bathroom, carrying a folded stack of casual clothes, one for him and one for Kiwi. “Just a heads up — since the days are longer here on Halcyon, people usually don’t go to bed until twelve or fourteen o’clock in the evening. So we’ve got four or five hours to burn before we turn in for the night.”

“That’s gonna take a while to get used to.” Kiwi says, already having shed her Agent jacket as she works on pulling her shirt off. “We can probably go on a walk after we get unpacked and settled in. See if there’s any good places to eat or hang out around here.”

“There should be plenty. An isolated research outpost like this one needs to be self-contained, the same way the Bastions are — they usually have their own parks, restaurants, hospitals, leisure places, and other amenities.” Songbird says, setting their clothes down on the bathroom counter, and placing their toothbrushes down on the charging pad between the sinks. “I’m sure they’ll give us a tour if we ask.”

“Yeah, but that’s not as fun as exploring it ourselves.” Kiwi says as she starts slinking out of her uniform pants. “Also, have you seen the size of this bath? It’s the size of a six-person hot tub!”

Songbird looks over his shoulder. “Damn, that is big. It’s gonna take forever to fill that thing up.”

“It’s filling from multiple jets on the sides. C’mon, hurry up and lose your clothes, altar boy!” Kiwi grins as him as she finishes shedding her underwear and steps into the bath.

“Alright alright, you little deviant.” Songbird chuckles as he begins pulling off his jacket. “Calm your tits, I’m comin’.”

“My tits will remain decidedly uncalm until you get in here with me.”

It isn’t long before Songbird’s slipping into the bath with Kiwi, with room to spare. Water is still pouring in from multiple jets along the tub’s side, producing a comprehensive gurgling as the tub continues to fill. Kiwi’s quick to slink up on him the moment he’s settled in, pushing him back against the tub’s side as she presses up against him. “So, sweet lover of mine… bugs?” she murmurs.

“I’m almost completely sure they’ve bugged the entire suite.” Songbird replies, tracing his fingers over Kiwi’s bared back as his voice stays low, masked by the burbling of the jets filling the tub. “Legaci is pretty convinced as well; she hid a spider drone in our luggage, so we could release it when we unpacked. She’s going to use it to do a sweep of our suite while we’re sleeping and try to kill or hack any bugs she finds.”

“Why would a bunch of scientists want to spy on us?” Kiwi says, fighting the urge to look around the bathroom. “What would they even do with intel about the Valiant? Pass it back along to the Marshy Republic?”

“I don’t think they want information about us. They want to get an idea of how much we know about them.” is Songbird’s soft answer as he reaches up, tucking some of Kiwi’s apple-green hair behind one of her ears. “The fact that they’re using underage pilots… and the way they were acting during the leadership meeting earlier. Something’s going on at this outpost that isn’t normal. Probably an experiment they’re trying to run under the Colloquium’s radar, but that doesn’t really explain why they’re trying to keep us in the dark.”

“You don’t think Command would report illegal experiments to the Colloquium?” Kiwi says, running her hand through the water before tracing a finger up and along one of Songbird’s collarbones.

“It’s not like the Colloquium has done the us any favors in the last five years. They only took the Valiant off the blacklist after being strongarmed into it by public opinion.” Songbird points out. “Plus, reporting their use of underage pilots would undermine the entire reason we’re helping the outpost, which is to build a stronger relationship with the Marshy Republic. Genista’s leadership has to understand that as well, but they’re still trying to hide stuff from us, so they must be worried about more than just the pilot problem. There’s something else they’re trying to conceal from us, and I think I’ve got an idea of what it is, and why they wanted to keep us from meeting their pilot squad.”

“Well, don’t keep me hanging. Share.” Kiwi murmurs, hooking a finger under Songbird’s chin.

“Not right now. I’ll tell you later, once Legaci’s spider drone has swept our room for bugs.” Songbird says, shaking his head. “I’m going to need to collect some stuff and send it back up to Sunthorn for Legaci and Valkyrie to analyze, and see if my suspicion is correct. If it is, though, the fact that the Genista pilots are underage is going to be the least of our worries.” Noticing that the aquatic burbling has started to subside, he looks over Kiwi’s shoulder to see that the water level in the tub is starting to submerge the jets feeding into it. “We’re about to lose our white noise.”

“Guess we’ll table this for later, then.” Kiwi puffs, glancing over her shoulder as well. “Nosy pricks.”

“It’s just part of the business, especially during war. Everybody spies. Enemies, allies, it doesn’t matter — so long as the intel is useful for something, they’ll spy on anybody and everybody.” Songbird says, idly curling a damp lock of Kiwi’s hair around his forefinger. “Maybe we could bore them by talking about banal shit.”

“Or… and hear me out here…” Kiwi purrs impishly, water sloshing between their skin as she shimmies a little further up Songbird’s chest. “…we could make them think twice about eavesdropping by having the loudest, most unrepentant sex this side of the galaxy.”

“You really are my worse half, aren’t you?” Songbird laughs, brushing a knuckle up underneath Kiwi’s chin as she grins eagerly at him. “You tempt me, you really do.”

“It’s a valid counterintelligence tactic.”

“Oho ho ho! That’s what we’re calling it now, ‘counterintelligence’?”

“It is, isn’t it? The whole point is to sabotage their data collection.”

“Sex as sabotage. You’re incredibly creative when you’re trying to rationalize reasons to get what you want.”

“Is it working?”

“Ahhhhh… yes. Yes it is.”

“That’s the spirit~”

Event Log: 9/6/12768

Genista: Centralized Command Complex

10:35am LPT

Mayor Ganard was not having a good morning.

If you had to ask him where it began, he would probably resist at first, then relent and tell you that it started six hours earlier, at four in the morning. At a time when most of the research outpost would be sound asleep, he was clawing his way out of bed to make it to a video call with the Praetorian Phalanx commander that had charge of the special project on Halcyon. And losing sleep was but one part of the problem; the meeting itself was no social call. The commander wanted answers, and rightfully so, for the questionable performance of Genista’s test team.

Yet despite having ample time to prepare for the meeting, the mayor’s primary justification — that the test team was simply too inexperienced and young for combat deployments — did not fly with the commander. After all, if the pilot Houses of the Venusian Colonies regularly produced battle-hardened teenage pilots, then surely the Marshy Republic, with its advanced technology and innovative approach to warfare, could do a better job than those frontier savages.

Had he been speaking to someone of equal or lesser authority, Ganard might’ve retorted that the Venusian Houses had centuries to refine the training programs for their pilot lineages, while the Halcyon project had barely been running for twenty years. He might’ve also pointed out that the feudal nature of the Venusian Colonies allowed them to funnel vast sums of revenue into their pilot Houses at the expense of the populace, while the Marshy Republic was restrained by a decidedly more egalitarian approach to funding their various national projects. He might have pointed out any number of other mitigating factors, but he knew that none of them would’ve mattered — there might be tolerance for this sort of failure in peacetime, but in the midst of a war, the margins for error were much thinner. Failure was a luxury that wasn’t in the budget.

So the only option was to state what everybody could plainly see — that the test squad was simply too young and not prepared for deployment — and that the Valiant would take them and whip them into shape now that they had arrived. It seemed to assuage the worst of the commander’s displeasure, at least for the time being, and the meeting ended with the commander making it clear that he expected to see progress in the coming months. Left unspoken was the implication of what would happen if said progress did not materialize as expected.

After the meeting, things did not measurably improve. The outpost’s population was impressed that the Valiant had saved the outpost, but concerned that their home squad hadn’t been able to protect it on their own. Valiant Command kept pressing down for full access to the telemetry for the Genista Titans and their pilots. A couple of the pilots had gotten into a fight with each other and needed to be separated. And there were reports that research buoys had picked up subaquatic movement at various locations along the coast, indicating that the Leviathan that had escaped was not the only one still out and about, and on the move.

And unfortunately, his arrival in the heart of the central command complex on Genista’s lower layers would only expose him to more bad news.

“Rofty.” Ganard says as he steps into the office of the special project lead. “I’ve been hearing some interesting stuff on the way down here. Care to shed some light on it?”

Rofty, a thin man with a short haircut, glasses, and labcoat emblazoned with the project lead’s rank, looks up from the screens on his desk. “No, I don’t know what’s up with the sync rate for the Torikago’s pilots. Personally, I think it’s a glitch, but there’s no way to be sure until that Titan deploys again, and we get to see the number for ourselves. It’s gotta be a malfunction in the telemetry software, because if it’s legit, it could change our entire understanding of empath pilot synchronization. I’ll give the Valiant credit for a lot of stuff, but I’m not ready to give them credit for redefining the piloting paradigm.”

“What? No, I’m not talking about that.” Ganard sighs, rubbing his forehead as he comes to a stop in front of Rofty’s desk. “The surveillance, Rofty. Keeping an eye on Songbird and the Mask Knight. I heard your boys saying that their suite has gone dark on the surveillance map.”

“Oh, that.” Rofty says, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, they know we’re spying on them.”

“How did they find out?” Ganard demands, grinding his cane against the floor. “Our people aren’t that sloppy, are they?”

Rofty gives Ganard a look. “Jore, it’s not that our people are sloppy. It’s that we’re dealing with the Valiant. They’re the spiritual successors of the Challengers. They have a Bastion; they have an angelnet, for god’s sake. Their Special Agents are basically trained to the same level that the Challengers were at. We’re dealing with people that run dangerous missions and covert ops for a living. Did you think they wouldn’t notice they were being spied on?”

Ganard lets out a wordless grumble, turning away from the desk as he casts about for something else to fix his agitation on. “I know this project was supposed to be secret, but we were never supposed to be involved in this sort of stuff. Spying, elite agents, espionage — that was supposed to stay in the metropolitan systems. Genista was built out here on a preserve world for exactly that reason, to keep the project away from spies and prying eyes. And then the Prelatory went and invited the Valiant to roll right up on our doorstep. Do they even realize what they’ve done?”

“I mean, if they hadn’t invited them, we might not even be here right now.” Rofty points out.

“But did it have to be the Valiant? That’s the one group that’s gonna be pissed to the high heavens when they figure out what we have here, what we’re doing here.” Ganard seethes, pacing past the cylindrical tanks against the wall that hold various specimens, some small, some large. “Any other Titan outfit would’ve been better than the Valiant. Mercurial mercenaries — they’d just take the money, do the job, and wouldn’t ask questions. Venusian Titaknights — they’d be too dumb to connect the dots and understand what we’re doing here. But no, the Prelatory had to try and cozy up to the Valiant, all because Songbird coming back from the dead had them pissing their pants and shaking in their boots.”

Rofty shrugs. “Can you blame them, after Kasvei?”

Ganard puffs out a conceding sigh as he reaches the end of the row of display tanks. “Have you met him yet?” he asks, glancing at Rofty. “Songbird, that is.”

Rofty shakes his head. “I probably will, sometime in the next few days. I have to help coordinate stuff so he can start training our pilots.”

“You’ll have to tell me what you think of him after you meet him.” Ganard mutters, looking at the last tank, which contains something that might be a fetus or an embryo.

“He left that much of an impression on you?” Rofty asks, leaning back in his chair.

“There’s something… off about him. Whenever he looks at you, it’s like he’s peeling you open with his eyes, staring into your soul.” Ganard says, shaking his head. “It was like being put on a microscope. He doesn’t even seem to be aware that he’s doing it.”

“You need to get some sleep, Jore.” Rofty says, leaning forward again. “The stress is getting to you. You’re getting paranoid.”

“I think I have a right to be, considering what we’re hiding here.” Ganard mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Are there any plans to fix the surveillance in the suite that Songbird’s sharing with his girlfriend?”

Rofty presses his lips together. “We will try, if you tell us to. But I think that’s a bad idea, for a number of reasons. The Valiant haven’t said anything about the bugged suite yet, so I think they’re being gracious about it. But we might start testing their patience if we try to rebug it, and they find out we’ve rebugged it.”

“Mm. Fair point. Probably isn’t wise to push our luck when we’re leaning so heavily on them.” Ganard concedes. “Alright then. Let them have their privacy; we’ll just have to hope we don’t regret it. And for the project and the pilots—”

“I know, Jore.” Rofty assures him. “It stays under wraps. As far as the Valiant are concerned, our pilots are gifted children that…” He pauses, as if realizing something. “…well shit. I suppose it would look bad if we said they were genetically engineered minors to explain why they have similar features, wouldn’t it.”

Ganard presses his thumb and forefinger against his closed eyes. “I’ll have the head of security stop by to help you work on an alibi. Preferably one that doesn’t implicate us in unethical practices.” With that, he starts shuffling back towards the door of the office. “And if you find anything out about the Valiant pilots—”

“You’re the first person I’ll tell.” Rofty says as he wakes his work screen. “Go get some sleep, Jore. You need it.”

“If a mayor can get away with a midmorning nap.” Ganard snorts as the door slides open for him. It’s only once it’s slid closed again that Rofty’s gaze flicks to the tank along the wall containing the embryo. After a moment, he picks up his phone, unlocks the screen, and starts typing out a message.

Window is closing. If the Valiant are as good as you say they are, it won’t be long before they realize what’s going on here and take back what’s theirs.

Once the text is sent, he sets his phone back down again, his fingers returning to his keyboard. He’s only two sentences into his next email when his phone buzzes, and he picks it up again to check the reply.

Have the totipotent zygotes ready. The Exile will send a team to collect once one of his daughters is available.

Rofty’s thumb lingers over the text field, ready to type a reply back. There were questions he wanted to ask; logistical ones, about arrival windows, and who to look for, and whether they would need help getting onworld or offworld. But he knew the answers would come when they were ready; he would not need to ask, because he would be told. All that he needed to do was follow the orders that had been given, and prepare the way. The rest would fall into place once he had done his part.

Standing up, he tucks his phone away, and grabs his lanyard. The irony of the situation was not lost on him; Ganard’s concerns about spies and prying eyes were well-founded. The mayor had been on the right track; it was just the direction of his concern that was misplaced. He was right to be wary of the Valiant, but there were other threats lurking much closer to the heart of the Halcyon project.

It was just a shame Ganard would never realize how close those threats were.

Event Log: 9/10/12768

Genista: Pilot Training and Residence Facility

8:23am LPT

It was an early morning for the pilots of the Genista Titan squad.

They had been told to suit up and assemble in the gym after their morning routine, though their handlers hadn’t clarified the reason for the order. Perhaps they didn’t have to — the children seemed to know already, because it was something that had been on their minds since the battle outside the walls of the outpost. The Valiant Titans were still undergoing repairs and touch-up in the neighboring Titan yard, and now and again, the children had caught glimpses of the pilots that had saved their squad during the last operation.

“What do you think they’re going to be like?” asked Gale, one of the five boys on the squad. He was in the middle of bouncing a ball to one of his fellow male pilots, each and every one of them redheads with green eyes. Though there were some clear differences in how they wore their hair and their individual demeanors, there were also clear similarities in their physical and facial structure, as if they had all come from the same family. “I heard the lab techs saying that they were all former Challengers, or the children of the Challengers.”

“I think it makes sense.” says Stratos, another one of the boys that catches the ball that’s being bounced to him. “You gotta be really good to pilot a Hybriddyr, right? Since it’s got two modes.”

“Gosh, I can’t even imagine.” remarks Lustra, one of the five girls on the squad. She’s loitering along with the rest of the girls, watching as the boys bounce the ball to each other to pass the time; and like the boys, each of the girls is a redhead with green eyes. Most of them wear their hair in a variety of styles to set them apart, but like the boys, each of them carries a strong resemblance to the others, as if they had a common progenitor. “It’s already hard enough to pilot a regular Titan; I can’t imagine doing it on all fours. I thought only Halfies piloted on four legs.”

“Wonder what their pilot chamber looks like.” muses Pix, another one of the boys. “You think they’ve got a hamsterball setup like the Jegers do?”

“A hamsterball setup wouldn’t work for them.” points out another one of the girls by the name of Visi. “They aren’t actually Halfies. They probably use a double empath setup like we do — I don’t think you can do a Jeger setup with manual control.”

“They’re here.” says Latti, one of the quieter boys. The rest of the children follow his gaze to see that Rofty is crossing the floor of the gym, with the Valiant pilots in tow.

“Wow. They look so… cool.” remarks Archer, another one of the girls. It appears she’s sizing up the Valiant’s attire, their black-jacket uniforms with holoscreen cutouts and luminous chevrons on the shoulders and back. “Why don’t we have uniforms like that?”

“Because we’re not cool.” Lustra snorts. “They had to come bail us out, remember?”

“It was our first operation.” Gale says, catching the ball as it bounces to him. He doesn’t throw it again, hanging onto it as the Valiant get closer. “We’ll do better next time.”

“Pilots!” Rofty greets as he arrives, with data slate tucked under his arm. “Form up.”

The children quickly reorganize into a row, the boys along one side and the girls along the other, standing at attention. Kiwi, Songbird, Renchiko, and Ridge slow to a halt as they arrive, watching the younger pilots fall into line. Once they’re all organized, Rofty turns to introduce them.

“Pilots, these are our guests from the Valiant program: Songbird and Kiwi, who pilot the Torikago, and Wrench, who pilots the Firefly II. They will be the ones that will be assisting with outpost defense over the next few months, and helping us try to root out the Collective and destroy their hive here on Halcyon.” Rofty explains. “They will also be helping train you for about four hours every day. You are to treat them as ranking officers and follow their orders while they are present. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good.” Rofty says, turning to Songbird and Kiwi. “Anything you’d like to ask them?”

“Names, starting on this side, and moving across in order.” Songbird says, pointing to one end of the line.

“Pilots, sound off.” Rofty nods to the children.

“Gale.”

“Stratos.”

“Latti.”

“Pix.”

“Torian.”

And then the girls:

“Lustra.”

“Visi.”

“Picazo.”

“Archer.”

“Rumo.”

Kiwi scratches behind one ear as the Genista pilots finish sounding off. “Can we get some nametags for ‘em?” she says, glancing at Rofty. “I ain’t gonna remember all that, especially when it looks like you stuck a redhead in the cloning machine and held down the print button.”

There’s a faint twitch on Rofty’s face, though it quickly disappears. “I think we can arrange magnetic nametags for a while.” he says, making a note on his data slate.

“You may stand at ease now, pilots.” Songbird orders, his ruby gaze sweeping the line as they relax. “Are there any questions you have for us?”

Torian raises his hand, then points to Ridge. “Is he a pilot?”

“Bodyguard.” Ridge says, folding his arms.

Rumo is the next to raise her hand. “Are you the guy that fought Nova on Kasvei?” she asks Songbird.

“That was me, yes.” Songbird says after a split second of pause.

Stratos’ hand shoots up. “What was that thing you did with your Titan? Where it shot a beam that completely obliterated the Leviathan’s head?”

“Experimental technology that we’re not at liberty to discuss.” Renchiko speaks up before Songbird can answer. “It’s still being tested.”

Picazo is the next to speak up, even though she doesn’t raise her hand. “Are you human?” she asks Kiwi. “You don’t look human.”

Kiwi smirks, running her fingers over the small splay of pale green feathers behind one of her ears, partially hidden by her hair. “Yeah. I’m a Maskling. Mostly human, with some other stuff mixed in. Is that gonna be a problem?” she says, showing off her sharp double-canine teeth.

“No, it won’t be a problem.” Rofty says quickly, giving the Genista pilots a hard look. “Marshy society is inclusive. It is open to all races, so long as they respect the law.”

“What kind of training do you have planned for us?” Gale asks, directing the question at Songbird.

“I have some things in mind, but first I have to know what you’re capable of.” Songbird says, sizing up the line of pilots. “Do you all pilot in locked pairs?”

“Every now and then we rotate them to test compatibility in other pairings, but for the most part, they are locked pairs.” Rofty answers. “If you need, we can arrange another rotation cycle to see if compatibility has changed recently.”

“Let’s hold off for now. There are other ways to test compatibility.” Songbird says, scanning the row for someone whose name he remembers. “Gale. Who’s your partner?”

Gale straightens up and glances down the row at the girls, as if to remind himself. “Oh. That’s Archer, sir.”

“Good. What’s her favorite food?”

It’s clear from his expression that Gale is stumped by the question. “I… uh. I don’t know, sir.”

“Mm. I see. Archer, can you tell me something about Gale that makes him unique from the rest of the male pilots?”

You can see the mad scramble in Archer’s eyes as she searches for an answer to the question. “Oh, uhm, he’s, he’s… he’s the squad leader? I mean, we’re the squad leaders.”

“Anyone can be a squad leader if they try hard enough. Tell me something that’s unique about him. What’s his favorite color?”

Archer’s eyes dart to Gale, as if glancing at him would provide the answer. He starts to open his mouth, but Songbird holds up a hand. “Giving her the answer defeats the purpose of the question. Pix, who is your partner?”

Pix straightens up. “Picazo.” he answers quickly.

“What’s her favorite animal?”

Pix doesn’t answer right away, as if he was actually thinking about it. “Red rabbit, I think. I think you can only get them on Mercurial worlds.”

“And how do you know that?” Songbird asks.

Pix shrugs. “We talked about it once. What pets we’d want if we were allowed to have them.”

Songbird looks towards Picazo. “Is he right?”

Picazo shifts a little on her feet. “Well, sorta. That’s what I wanted when I was twelve. But I heard that rabbits poop a lot, so… I dunno. Maybe I’d want a cat nowadays.”

“I see.” Songbird says, shifting to another one of the girls. “Lustra. Who is your partner?”

Lustra looks down the row. “Torian, sir.”

“Eyes on me.” Songbird orders. “Is he left-handed or right-handed?”

Lustra refocuses on Songbird, though her eyes flick furtively to the side. “Uh… right-handed?”

Torian lifts his right hand. “She’s right.”

“Even if she was right, that was a guess, not an answer.” Songbird says, glancing at Rofty. “We have a lot of work to do, and I’ve got a good idea of where to start.”

“Well, what about you?” Torian demands. “Why don’t we ask you surprise questions about your partner?”

“Don’t speak out of turn, pilot—” Rofty begins.

“No, it’s fine.” Kiwi grins, setting a fist on her hip. “You shouldn’t dish it if you can’t take it. Fire away, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Torian clearly hadn’t expected to get the chance to flip it around on them, but makes the most of the opportunity. “Oh, uh, then… well, what’s his favorite food?”

“Mmm. Well, he likes sweet things and desserts, when he eats at all.” Kiwi says, giving Songbird an impish glance. “But I think he prefers my blood above all else, since he’s a vampire.”

Lustra gasps. “Wait, he’s a vampire? You let him suck your blood?”

Songbird rolls his eyes. “It’s an occasional indulgence. I can’t have it too often, or it’ll dull the enjoyment. All things in moderation.”

“What’s her favorite day of the week?” Gale asks Songbird.

“Any day she doesn’t have to go to work. Or attend meetings.” Songbird answers without missing a beat. “If we had a regular schedule, she’d probably prefer weekends.”

“What’s her favorite animal?” Stratos asks next.

“I don’t know what her favorite is, but I do know she wants a greatwolf from one of the Ranter colonies.” Songbird says, giving Kiwi a sideways look.

Kiwi shrugs. “I’m just saying, it’d be pretty cool. You could ride it into battle and cuddle with it.”

“It would grow to the size of a horse. How are you going to fit that in our apartment?”

“Fine, maybe just a regular wolf, then.”

“That’s still massive. You know how much it would be shedding?”

“Well, at that point, you may as well just get a dog, and that’s boring. Anyone can get one of those.”

“As you can see, a competent pair of empath pilots know each other very well.” Renchiko says at this point. “Knowing your partner is important to understanding them, which helps you synchronize with them.”

“Exactly. That’s one of the points we’ll be addressing.” Songbird agrees as the conversation is steered back on topic. “Rofty, if you don’t mind, I’d like to put your pilots through a startup cycle in the test chambers, so we can get their paracapacity and sync rate numbers. After that we’ll start working on exercises to help improve pilot synchronization.”

“Of course. That can be easily arranged.” Rofty says. “They’re already in their plugsuits, so we don’t even have to worry about suiting up. Pilots, you know the way to the test chambers, so let’s get to it…”

Event Log: 9/14/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: Equatorial Ring

6:51pm SGT

When Drill finds Kaiser on one of the more secluded equatorial overlooks, it is once again evening on Sunthorn, while below, the planet is in the midst of turning its away from the sun. Shadows slowly creeping across the surface, with the fading sunlight throwing the terrain into sharp relief in some places — mountains, ridges, canyons. Unlike most other planets the Bastion usually orbited, the night side of Halcyon was almost completely black — there were no cities to illuminate the dark, no luminous networks of transit lines between population centers. It was a world undeveloped, with the only sign of civilization being the faint, almost imperceptible point of light that marked the Genista outpost.

Kaiser himself was studying the transition between the day side and night side of Halcyon, his cold, austere silhouette framed by the planet below. If he heard Drill trundling over to him, which he undoubtedly had, he did not turn to acknowledge him. It was only when the dwarf had arrived at the glass wall, their faces lit by the dim blue illumination running through Sunthorn’s dome, that the bespectacled Shanarae speaks.

“The answer is yes, there is something more going on in the Genista outpost. When I know what that is, you will be apprised accordingly.” Kaiser states without taking his gaze off the planet below.

Drill reaches up to take his shades off, raising an eyebrow at the immaculately-dressed strategist. “Damn. I know you don’t like conversatin’, but reading minds is taking it a bit far, don’t you think?”

“It does not take much to deduce your reason for tracking me down outside of the central tower. You would not be talking to me unless it was something worth testing my patience for.”

“Well ain’tchoo just a bucket o’ sunshine tonight.” Drill says, folding up his shades and hooking them on his breast pocket. “Valkyrie showed me the footage from the end of the operation down there.”

“Without genetic corroboration, it is merely speculation at this point.”

“Man, you know how hard it is to have a conversation with someone that keeps giving you answers to questions you haven’t asked yet?” Drill demands. “Would it kill you to let me ask the question before you answer it?”

“I imagine I’m saving both of us the time and effort of making this conversation longer than it has to be.”

“You got all the charm of an assembly droid at a wedding, y’know that?” Drill says, pulling out a heated comb and using his reflection in the glass to make sure that his drill-shaped afro has maintained its carefully curated dimensions. “Since you already know what I’m gonna ask ya, why don’t we just get it over with. Go on, hit me with the answers to all the questions I’m gonna ask you.”

“While I am flattered by your presumption of prescience, you must know that I cannot actually read minds, nor tell the future, 4704.” Kaiser replies. “If you would like, I will instead provide you with a short briefing of the items that I believe should have your attention.”

“Mm-mm. What you think I should know and what I actually want to know are two different things. That’s the whole point of askin’ questions, bucko.” Drill says as he continues touching up his afro. “So are you gonna let me ask the questions or not?”

“Very well. You may proceed with your interrogatories, if that is what you prefer.” Kaiser permits.

“Excellent. So you saw the Genista pilots; I know you were thinking what we all were thinking. What’s the plan there?”

“5377, Kiwi, Wrench, and Ridge have been tasked with discreetly acquiring samples and returning them to the Bastion for DNA sequencing. They should have the access they need to complete this task, on account of the fact that we have imposed our demand for pilot training on the Genistans. We will begin sequencing as soon as we have those samples at our disposal.”

“Alright. And what happens if it comes back positive?”

“Nothing happens, aside from logging the results in our reports.”

“If it comes back positive, it means those nerdy liddl’ bastards stole from us. You tellin’ me we’re not gonna call ‘em on it?” Drill says, putting his comb away.

“It will achieve nothing to do so. Even if our suspicions bear out, the Genistans are not going to relinquish their assets, no matter how ill-gotten they are.” Kaiser states, his frosty, bespectacled gaze remaining fixed on the single dot of light on Halcyon’s night side. “They have likely invested close to two decades of resources into these pilots, and they will not yield them up simply because we accuse them of theft. That is if they even acknowledge it — in all likelihood, they will deny the accusation, or deflect by claiming they were not aware when they acquired the assets, since I am fairly certain they acquired them either through Colloquium-ordered seizure, or through one of CURSE’s auctions.”

Drill folds his arms. “Then what’s the point of findin’ out if we ain’t gonna act on it? I ain’t one for grudges, but when a weasel weasels, you should punish ‘em for weaselin’. These vultures need to know there’s consequences for stealin’ from the Challengers.”

“Not all weapons must be used immediately, 4704. The point of finding out is to ensure we have leverage for a later date, if needed. Beyond that, I have no intention of undermining the purpose for which we came here. It would be counterproductive to force a confrontation with the Marshies over the matter when the entire point of this excursion was to strengthen our relationship with the Republic.” There is a certain patience in his tone, one that seems to hint at his underlying exasperation with Drill’s knee-jerk reaction to Genista’s potential crimes against the Challengers.

Perhaps sensing this, Drill eases off the topic slightly. “So blackmail, then. You wanna have the receipts on hand so we’ve got something we can hold over their heads if they step out of line.”

“Correct. I understand you may be tempted to confront them in a fit of righteous fury, but it is better to refrain from that impulse. If, at a later point, they become difficult to handle, then we are likely to extract a larger measure of compliance from them by indicating that we are aware of their transgressions, but have chosen not to act on them… for now.” Kaiser finally moves, unfolding one of his hands from behind his back so he can examine his immaculately trimmed nails. “After all, it would be a shame if the Colloquium, or the galaxy at large, found out that Genista has broken multiple aspects of the Titan Accords. Underage pilots, genetically modified children, stolen clones from the Challenger program… the public tends not to be fond of such things. Apparently it offends the conscience.”

Drill snorts. “You say that like leaking that information wouldn’t also burn down this relationship we’re trying to build with the Marshies.”

“It would, but later down the road, rather than the immediate combustion that would’ve resulted from you trying to confront the Genistans over it right now.” Kaiser states, tucking his hand behind his back once he’s satisfied with the status of his nails. “The universe of Titans is often perceived as one of hard elements — machines, technology, and industry. But as we delve deeper into this campaign, you will find that the soft element — the people, pilots, politics, and public — play an extensive role in controlling how that universe functions.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Never really liked Titan cliques anyway. Always looked like a den of cats hissin’ and spittin’ at each other from the outside looking in.” Drill grunts, turning to go his way once more. “One last thing before I go. You haven’t heard anything from the hellcat lately, have you? I heard she’s been on the move ever since Songbird came back. It’s got people nervous.”

“She has not harassed me recently, no. But we are keeping tabs on her, as much as we are able to. If her activities begin to threaten our agenda, we will address it accordingly.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t go that far. She’s too much of a liability to recruit, but we don’t want her as an enemy either.” Drill says, starting to trundle off as he puts his shades back on. “You have a good night, Kaiser. Let me know what you find once we have the samples and we’ve got ‘em sequenced. Oh, and keep up the good work and all that jazz.”

“Truly, you know how to inspire. Enjoy your evening, 4704.”