RP: LSDF Akahar [Prologue] - From Dark

"All you need to know is that I'm from the Consortium. If you must call me something, Ma'am will do, since you seem fond of calling me that." Aiesu smiled, her breath warm on the Helashio's ear as she spoke, sending an unfair shiver down the girl's back with the heat.

"For what its worth, the uniform does look good on you when you wear it properly, though... I'm sorry to say we won't be playing toy-soldier today."

That should have been the end of it. Four parted her lips just slightly, wondering what she was supposed to say. She hadn't really thought past this point and this was just too awkward. No help was on the way.

"Please just leave me alone," Four managed to plead, trying to settle; she couldn't do this anymore. This girl was really messing with her. Beneath her uniform, Four shifted her tail nervously.

"If you tell me what to do again..." she sighed, fingertips still upon the Helashio's shoulders as she whispered.

"Hypothetically... Maybe the chief medical officer will have had a bit to drink... Maybe you'll have an accident somewhere... Maybe a discharge from that rifle of yours. Since the doctor is out, I'd have to step in to put you back together. Pre-occupied with saving your precious life, maybe I'd miscalculate the anasthetic under the pressure of it all, leaving you paralised but awake through the entire procedure to feel everything. Hypothetically, you understand of course", a slow exhale as she recalled her diplomatic immunity, since any failure on her part could just be a malfunction blamed on the ARIA.

"But if you wag your tail, sit and fetch as asked, of course, everything will be fine. Maybe even better than fine if you're a good girl." she spoke, her voice condescending now. "You want to be a good girl, don't you?"

Keib clicked his tongue and narrowed in distaste as he watched the 'diplomat' trash talk one of his soldiers, "I'd just like to remind you: Most people would've jettisoned you without another word, and I've been-" He held up his hand and Aiesu felt what could've been an invisible arm wrap around her waist, "-more than welcoming towards a complete stranger."

He sighed. Telekinetic grabbing to him was something he'd become accustomed to. Very little effort had to be put into it as he held up his other hand. Aiesu could feel another hand, this time pinching something. Something in her neck. The hand around her waist eased before she felt some sort of uneasy puppetry take hold of her and pull her away from Four Six's proximity. Every step would feel uncanny.

His voice had gone from its usual upbeat and chipper tone to a slower, more considerate and grave lecture, "I get enough bullshit from the Matriarchy thanks to our position, occupation and staffing arrangements, so if I suspect that you're just another joke, I'll be happy to beat you to the punchline. I may be incorrect, but I don't believe you need oxygen, hm?" He was never going to say just how he'd put this theory to the test as a perverse grin crossed his features, "A reverse engineered ARIA 3.5 would definitely be worth exploring in my spare time..."

Keib's dark side was starting to bubble to the surface. That gravely texture in his voice surfacing from days of old wetwork. For a Lorath in these contemporary times, he was definitely older than most and he'd seen more than his fair share of violence, cupidity, killing and senselessness - he'd even participated in some of it.

And then he saw Greg, standing there by his side in shock.

Poor thing. Once Aiesu was back to where she was, before berating Four Six over her uniform, he remembered that this wasn't the first time he'd done something like this and rubbed his forehead with a deep sigh as he relinquished control. He produced an orange cylinder of pills from a side pocket, took a couple and a swig of water in advance of the migraine that'd come with all of those bad memories getting pushed back to where they belonged. Greg simply frowned at his superior and looked ahead at the turnout.

A wiry and strong winged Llmanel corporal had shown up and sat down next to Four Six, giving her a quiet upwards nod of greeting before setting down with his Styrling rifle in his lap. This was Gough. If you looked down, you could see scratches on the plastic stock to tally the kills he'd scored. There were six complete tallies of five before the word 'LOTS' appeared to fill up what was left of the space on one side of the stock. The other side was vacant, perhaps so he could rest his chin on it without the scratches digging into his skin.

It was fifteen minutes until the briefing was expected to start.

Merril wasted no time, bounding past the first room and going for the second.

"Yo, computer, I want this one!" She barked, opening the door and tossing her bag on a bed. she took a moment to properly jauntily askew-ify her hat so that it fit perfectly opposite of her side-ponytail, and exited the room, grinning another grin.

"The way to the meeting room is. . .. right stairwell up one flight, first room on the. . . left, right?" Merril asked, trying to recall the layout of her last ship.

Aiesu felt a deep resounding breath bubble through her lungs as her limbs moved with a strange autonomy she'd taken months achieving with software - a rich tingle in her extremities but none of the hypoxia she should have experienced if her brain were organic, as her body was.

Her teeth were tight enough, inspiring a ringing from a compression of fluids from some crushed nerve in her inner ear. The rich battery of tingles finally left her as she held in her breath.

Strangely, her small wings tented beneath the borrowed shirt, stood out rather than conforming to her shoulders in a sublime flavor of surprise. Her nostrils flared, eyes wide but lips forming into a faint and un-even smile as she sighted the orange pills - a predatory look that no scientist should ever posess.

In her mind, she was trying to answer exactly what he must be taking and for what, darting through hundreds of possible conclusions. A mystery she couldn't solve on the spot was to her a challenge, thralling her.

It was only then she detected a measurable spike in adreniline, dopamine and... Oxytocin? The first two were normal but the last had alarmed her - first alerted to her through the return of the tingling and then biochemical monitors in her spine. While her mind knew better, her body wanted to follow him up on his strange offer. Did it have a deathwish? This was out of order. She had to calm down.

She exhaled, deflated as her expression returned to normal, stolen by her breath - tentative wings leaning back against her shoulder-blades once more as the normal sleepy and very placid expression returned to her. She corrected her posture and recomposed herself with a third breath, much shorter than those which came before it in smooth and steady compliance, which was what Keib wanted.

"My apologies"

She tried to smile, a hand reaching about the back of her neck. Her spine was mostly synthetic as was everything in it - though it all worked the same way, despite the different locations of various fibers. She found herself surprised again by how well he had adapted. She made a note to report this to the consortium.

"Old habits die hardest - don't they? Its worse when you don't get to pick which you keep and which you don't" she eyed Four again, remembering.

"Most of my surgical training was on Helashio and... Vivisection was not uncommon. It has this strange property of dehumanizing them, would you believe?"

"Regardless, I'll keep stock of my actions."

Four Six crossed her arms, settled back into the chair, and stayed really fucking quiet.

And shivered. She shivered, too. Almost uncontrollably, she felt weak and recognized that weakness as a sudden urge to run. Four was afraid. And she knew she was afraid, and she didn't like it. It set her hair on end, and forced her eyes to the end of her shotgun's barrel. She smoothed her hair back, and then didn't move at all.

She very, very specifically did not move at all, look at Keib, at Aiesu, or even at Gough, whom she was comfortable with.

After Bastion's explanation Mist jaunted down the hall to the third room on the left. Propping his duffel into a corner he knelt down beside it and starting digging through it, making sure he had his full loadout. While digging out his equipment he called out: "Aria. Register this room to Shrie'keng Mist Lmanel." in a rather distracted manner.

Standing up after clipping all the gear to his belts. He went through some quick touch and go checks, running his hands over every piece of equipment. "Blade, blades, Arbi, M'cel." Content with his checks he wandered back into the hallway. ready to make his way to the ready room. He knew the way through a Raptor but decided to stick around till Bastion departed for the briefing.

Splitting the group wasn't something he wanted to do while the Trooper was still likely to be held accountable for him.

Vathr'dal walked calmly down a corridor of the LSDF Akahar, his footsteps resounding in the hallway. This ship had been his home for the past year, and he'd grown to know it well, almost as well as the Hawk Fighter Bombers he flew. Vathr'dal had been on a bigger warship before this, but he liked the Akahar better, anyways. He didn't regret having to kill his former wingman after a dispute went too far, especially since he got put here. Not like it really mattered to him, though, as long as there were things that the young New Tur'lista could fly.

Vathr'dal was headed for the pilot ready room for the briefing. His course lead him by the crew's rooms. As he walked, he saw the monumental shape of Bastion in the corridor, but Vathr'dal also heard voices he didn't recognize coming from two of the rooms. Just then he remembered that the Akahar was taking on new crew.

"Hey, Bastion," called the New Tur'lista. "You showing the new kids around?" he queried. "If you are, you should probably tell them to get up to the ready room soon. Briefing's about to start. I was headed up there myself, when I heard some unfamiliar voices." As Vathr'dal spoke, his usual, relaxed grin found its way onto his face.

"Lets see, one, two, three, four-six..." Keib was counting the arrivals idly as he watched the arrivals come in. That is, they were the normal bunch that Keib had on ship at any time. Their usual role was to give anyone who greeted the ship with violence a reciprocal welcome. He was wondering where the others were, but he was sure they'd show up in time.

Hakahn stood next to the shorter New'Turlista, a creepily eerie gaze watching as each crewmember walked in and found their place to sit. Inside of his mind he found himself pondering their most recent arrival. He hated dealing with civilians on an almost personal level, their tendency to become liabilities striking out at him from many experiences.

"How's the head?" he asked in a slightly entertained tone, the events of Keib's outburst bringing a wan smile to his face, his eyes still forward. Keib replied by giving his superior a despondent sigh and rolling his eyes.

"About ten minutes to briefing. Shall we cover the usual topics?" he asked the more level-headed Hakahn, giving a glance to Aiesu and frowning. Keib got a data-assistant out of his pocket to load his previous calculations that he had made from the comfort of his desk to the Ready Room's displays for when they needed to be seen.

The usual topics indeed: Yet another assignment no other ship wanted to deal with; yet another hulk or wreck to be tracked down, boarded, cleared, and hauled back for salvage. Of course, things never handled that simply - there had always been some complication, either on his end or, most commonly, on the end of individuals like Aiesu. The game-plan for how to lay it out was mutually understood and remained unspoken between the CO and XO. They had delivered their fair share of them for the past couple of years.

"Indeed, the usual topics; don't touch anything, shoot anything with more than four limbs, and if less, shoot it if it shoots back." Hakahn said, still standing and staring.

-

Merril, instead of waiting for a response to her question like any normal person, left the crew quarters and made her way to the upper deck, luckily finding the meeting room in just a mere minute.

"Huh, so I was right!" the medic announced to nobody in particular besides herself, grinning fangily as is the norm. Addressing the other bodies in the room, she asked, "this is the meeting room, right?"

Keib gave the new arrival an upwards nod. "Yes it is; always nice to see a new face." The problem with a skeleton crew was that it got lonely, quickly. With bigger ships there were no shortages of people to converse with, and the XO's casual swagger only augmented this train of thought. Some months it got lonely out in space with only a handful of people to converse with. Eventually you'd exhaust all the mundane topics and it'd get personal quickly. "Take a seat and we'll be ready in several minutes."

"Sure thing!" replied Merril, doing exactly that. She bounced in place lightly, observing her new shipmates. In a very roundabout manner, she introduced herself. "The name is Soft-Touch. Corporal. Combat Medic."

Gough gave a look at Merril and raised an eyebrow, then smiled. "Welcome." Al'ris and Yar'mak gave congenial grunts of greeting, whilst Keib gave Merril a smile.

Four-Six still hadn't moved a muscle. Keib tilted his head at Four-Six and frowned. "Four-Six?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes, Mister Keib?" The answer was terse, and quiet, and very professional.

"You alright?" His tone had gone from the usual bombast that he'd introduced Merril with and used most of the time, descending to a more concerned, personal tone.

"Yes, Mister Keib."

Hakhan looked over for a moment. "46" was the 'special case', and the subject for vast amounts of speculation and thought. Of course she had, like many others, ended up becoming another of Keib's personal projects. Whether or not the man's efforts would pan out had yet to be seen.

Red irises shifted over to the recent arrival, having recently found her seat, he'd read her file and knew what the higher ups knew or rather what they had given him. The Fyunnen was left wondering whether her personality could provide a rather valuable asset... or a rather large liability... and he hated liabilities.

"Soft Touch?" Keib inquired to the new arrival, shifting his attention to seem personable, and because he was curious. The files always omitted some things, like the origins of semi-informal nomenclature.

"Do you want the snarky truth or the actual truth?" Merril replied, raising an eyebrow to her superior. Keib gave her a shrug and a flippant smile as a reply. Merril took this as an opportunity to shoot humour his way, and said, "Well, you see, they just loved making cracks about how I loved to sew on my other ship. I ended up busting somebody's lip and sewed it back together myself."

She took a moment to pause for comedic effect, then continued, "But truthfully, It's just because I like to sew. I'm very good at it. VERY good."

Keib smiled and nodded. "Good way to pass time. I'm partial to stone carving myself. Made a chess set, and I play every evening before bed." The casualness of his conversation would've normally raised eyebrows amongst more disciplined Lorath. Greg mumbled happily, and Keib continued,"Greg here is a damned fine chess player."

"Just why is Greg so mumbly, if you don't mind the question. He missing a voice-box?" Merril nonchalantly asked, casually giving the Helashio the twice-over.

"He's my long time assistant, and everyone's friend here on the Akahar." The XO replied, and Greg's tail swayed behind him happily and he nodded along, "But he has suffered some injuries in the past, and prefers not to talk about it. I can still talk to him though." He tapped the side of his head and gave Merril a wink, "And he replies too!"

"That's. . . Good I think?" Merril uncertainly replied, not willing to get into the schematics of medical issues. Greg gave Merril a toothy smile and folded its arms triumphantly.

"Seriously. Good chess player." Keib reassured. Meanwhile, Gough gave Four Six a nudge, keeping a flat face in spite of all of his superior's antics, and gave her a shrug and shook his head at Keib, conveying that some of his antics were starting to wear.

There was about four minutes until the briefing started.

Shrie'keng stepped through the doorway into the pilot ready room. The Lmanel stopped long enough to look the room over, his eyes eventually coming to rest on an open spot next to the Helashio in uniform. Starting off silently, he veered towards his target.

"And we have another," Hakahn said quietly, just enough for Keib to hear as his gaze locked on the newly arrived Shrie'Keng. "What are your thoughts on this one?" he asked, turning to his XO.

"He reminds me of you," Keib replied before giving the new arrival a nod, and people who followed LSDF protocol on this poor excuse of a ship only deserved to be treated reciprocally. "Sharp, alert and disciplined."

"I'd hope so." Finished Hakahn, shifting his weight over to his other foot slightly as he crossed his arms.

It was three minutes until the start of the briefing now, and time was fairly flexible under Keib's command.

Masakaji followed the rest of the group and claimed on of the quarters for himself. Dumping his duffel bag in his quarters, he went over to Bastion. "See you at the briefing." Masakaji said, waving his hand towards her once. He mentally accessed a memorized map of a Raptor class vessel before he proceeded on to the pilot's ready room.

Once he arrived, he looked around before saluting Keib and then finding a seat with the others. The salute might have been overboard, but might as well look like a professional first. Masakaji thought to him.

Bastion looked at the familiar voice. It was the pilot who was on the ship for considerable time. She did not get to know him very well, but he seemed like a nice guy and for some reason it even seemed like he did not mind being on this bloody ship. She smiled and waved back at him.

"Hello Horizon," she said and looked as Soft Touch and Mist just took up and left without the word. She still had to wait for the Masakaji though. "Yeah, I brought them here to pick room before we go to briefing." She said and saw Masakaji walk out and leaving with few words. "Let'S go then," she said to Horizon and started walking towards the briefing room.

She wished there was time for her to swap uniforms, as she only wore a simple black jump-suit with her name and rank. Well it was still military garb, some folks on the ship did not even bother with that.

Bastion walked into the ready room and saluted. She was still a professional soldier, even after all these years. "Trooper Mars Aresian reporting for briefing!" Bastion reported with gusto and moved to sit nest to Four Six, who she gave a gentle smile.

Bastion did notice the child wearing just a t-shirt and wondered what she was supposed to be. Her good sense also made her notice body-language of Four-six and Greg. THey were nervous for some reason. Especially poor Greg.

Four-Six found herself at the center of an ever-growing circle of people.

She knew all three of them; Gough, Mars, and Shrie'keng. Two Lmanel, a Funnyun, and a Helashio were sitting front-row center, and all the helashio could think about was how odd it was to be the oddball. Four-Six looked up at Mars when she entered, and smiled just a little bit at not only Mars, but the idea that even in just two weeks, she had been accepted with little trouble. It was actually a dream come true, Four-Six suspected somewhere deep within her soul, though she wasn't exactly sure why the thought resonated with her. It made her tail twitch just a bit beneath her uniform to think that she wasn't sitting alone.

Even Bomber and Yar'mak, a couple of seats behind, had a healthy sort of respect for her. Arguably it had meant putting one of them on their behind. Looking back it scared her witless, and made her a little queasy just thinking about how she had felt at the time. Now, surrounded by other soldiers, dead center like the hub of a spoke'd wheel, Four-Six felt just a little bit taller, and managed to look up from her lap and the shotgun there, at Keib and Greg, and eventually, furtively, at Aiesu.

Four-Six crossed one boot over the other, at the ankles, and tipped her cap back a little bit as she waited.

Vathr'dal walked up to the ready room a little behind Bastion. He didn't know the towering Lorath very well, but as far as he knew she was a nice person. He'd have to get to know her better a little later.

When he entered the room, Vathr'dal noticed that there was actually a decent amount of people. He recognized most of the faces; Keib, the Captian, Greg, Yar'mak, Al'ris, Gough and others. He could also see that there was a good amount of new recruits on the ship. He picked the first available seat and plopped down onto it, and got ready to listen to the briefing.

Aiesu crossed her arms. She felt somewhat under-dressed in the presence of those around her which would surely hurt her first impressions as she stood in the briefing room in little more than bicycle shorts and a loose shirt which came down well past the limit of where the shorts gripped her pale thighs.

She didn't let it deter her. The stare she gave was detatched as she sized up those around her, taking particular note of soft-touch in particular as a thought came to her.

Despite all this, she was relatively impatient, though she kept that to herself.

"Aaand I think that's everyone." Keib sent a telepathic message to Hakahn as he watched the last few people take their seats in the Ready Room. He gave his superior a look and a nod to begin.

Hakahn looked toward Keib, nodding slightly before finally turning his gaze back to the assembled mass before him, some faces had been in this room before on previous occasions while others had just recently appeared, replacing a handful that would never be seen again. "Now." He began, holding his hands behind his back, "I'm sure quite a few of you are familiar with what we do, for those who've just arrived on our lovely little ship, I suppose I could spare a few moments and inform you what your new life tasks are."

He paused, slowly moving his eyes down the ranks starting with the most odd arrival Aiesu Kalopsia. "We are... as some of those of Higher Rank have put it... Grave Diggers... we spend long days and nights put to space hunting the fallen corpses of our ships and once we find these vessels we take them home for..." He seemed to grin slightly, "Burial... Are there any questions?"

"Ah, but before we get to questions, let's not be strangers." The second in command chimed in, before turning his attention back to the audience. "I am Executor Mar'Zhaz Keib New Tur'Lista. Just Keib will do, not Sub-Lieutenant Executor Keib 'The Howler'." He was clearly taking the mickey out of hte ovewrought naming conventions that the Lorath held high. Simplicity seemed to be a rare commodity amongst the Lorath.

Hakahn seemed to shrug slightly, "Ah, names... they don't matter so much as you remember the rank attached to the front of them. But as for... names.... my mother gave me Hakahn KaShan Fyunnen, my co-operators and friends gave me 'Braincase', and the Matriarchy in all it's wisdom gave me Ship Commander and that is the name you will refer to me as." He finished.

It became apparent that there was a dichotomy between the two leader's styles of command. Keib definitely seemed more laid back and approachable, while Hakahn seemed to be a stickler for rules. Ultimately though, they were still respectable looking people. "Now, onto business. Shall I flick through the pictures for you?" He asked of his superior.

Hakahn seemed to merely gesture with his hand to carry on. Keib touched a few buttons on his data assistant and an image came on screen of a Harvester Class Salvage Vessel with the name 'LCS Mok'Ro' on the nomenclature. This picture was taken before the vessel in question went missing.

"This is our present objective, it is a civilian contracted salvage vessel that through some machination or special project dropped into our laps. I believe we should show them the logs." Said Hakahn gesturing with his hand for the next bit of data. The date today was the 28th of the tenth, same year. "And here's the last piece of the puzzle." Keib observed. "It fell on my desk this morning, and it's been in transit for a long, long time." "So, the possibility exists that their fate may not have been caused by our usual list of horrifying ends. Either way, its not our problem. Our singular goal is to find the Mok'Ro, 'deal' with whatever caused this mess and then get the ship home. Any questions?" Hakahn asked, eyeing each face carefully.

Keib, meanwhile, put that starmap of Tange he'd been using as a drawing pad, and showed the two circles of where it could have drifted to, starting with a singular point based on their position data that came from their distress call, and spiralling outwards to a larger radius. There was a lot of ground to cover, and it'd take a while to travel to Tange from Lor.

Bastion listened carefully, leaned forward and paying complete attention. The bosses gave their introduction as always, but that was for people like Mist and Soft Touch, not Bastion herself. The Keib was someone to pay attention too, though Ship Commander was not stupid either. He knew his job, but Keib was a genius.

When the transmission was played, Bastion put her hands up. "Sir?" She started and wrinkled here eyebrows in a sign of worry. "I guess we don't know anything more about those 'sounds in side-passages' do we?"

"So we're looking at anything from a drifter to a 'sploded hulk, then?" Merril chimed in, genuinely interested in the mystery of the matter. It certainly sounded mysterious, with the way Keib mentioned the last bit of information.

Aiesu was dissatisfied, seemingly in a world of her own. She took steps forward, hands in the rim of her shorts, revealing them for the first time as she stared up at the volumetrics of the transcriptions with a distasteful expression, clicking her tongue in some rhythm against her inner cheek.

As a civilian, her proximity and ignorance of procedure and decorum could have had her thrown out. Indeed, she felt eyes on her - expecting someone to demand she returned to her seat as she reached to adjust glasses out of habit, only to discover she wasn't actually wearing any and that the ARIA's eyes had been adjusted accordingly.

She paid special attention to the way in which the computer had chosen to transcribe the corrupted audio it presumably came from. Something seemed off and she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Huh... ARIA..." she began, calling out to the ship.

Nothing.

"Are you there? ARIA?

The response was embarrassingly late. "Yes?"

"ARIA, do we still have the raw audio of this transcription... Ideally, uncompressed with full dynamic range?"

"You are not a registered crewman. Access denied" the voice would reply. "Please consult an officer of the ship for further details."

"Semantics, semantics.... ARIA, Sudo root, authoriza-"

A rather unpleasant beep sounded, followed by the words...

"Command not recognized."

Aiesu whistled in surprise.

"Really? That's odd... They, that is we, only made six thousand models that don't recognize manufacturer authority over military authority or persongenic keybond for debugging..." she said clicking her tongue.

"And as I recall, none of them came standard issue to a raptor. She's a very rare bird, Keib - and very expensive - and not very legal. If you don't want me to kick up a fuss, I'm afraid you'll have to register me."

Four-Six could feel - literally feel - the hair in her ear bristling.

That civilian woman had tried to take control of the ship? Four-Six could barely believe what she had heard. As a helashio ground-pounder, Four-Six didn't personally know any of the commands for the ARIA systems - or if she did, she didn't recognize that one, specifically. But the movements, and the haughty air she was taking with the commander were rather clear sign of intent. It was still extremely hard to believe, and it made Four really question her hearing.

Without realizing she'd done it, Four found her hand resting on the handle of her right-hand revolver. The smooth synthetic grip had just the right texture in her hand, just the right weight, and she thumbed the snap off her holster quietly.

Four felt weak, but knew it was just her heart beating hard against her ribs - the sudden weightlessness of adrenaline. Keib wouldn't give this woman access to the ship, if she could really take control of it, would he? If that woman had succeeded she'd have been in complete control, right? And then she could do anything. Four kept her eyes caged on Keib, dreading the order to move, but still chanting it in her head.

Say no. Tell us to arrest her.

Say it, say it, say it, say it.