RP: ISC Phoenix [Side Job] Beautiful Erasure

A desire to ask the other Neko to stop, the feeling of paralyzing dread as she was once again exposed to something unpleasantly familiar, the fearful denial and desire to be anywhere but there... Again.

All of these things died deep beneath the surface, discarded by the cool calculation of Tamamo's mind, a refusal to give in to the burden of emotion, of past hurt, and hindering results. Instead Tamamo wandered toward the centre of the room casually, a brief glance at the ceiling all the warning that was given before her small form lifted off of the ground, rotating until she was inverted, and then she settled seated upon the ceiling at the exact centre of the room. Looking 'up' or perhaps down at the two Nekovalkyrja, the small woman spoke up, "I appreciate the attempts at comforting me, and the suggestion of my importance... However, you need not waste the energy..." She trailed off.

Next came the question of tea and sweets. Did she truly want them? She wasn't sure, part of her said it would be impolite to refuse, another said that it would be a waste of food and possibly good tea. What was she to do? Eventually she ventured, "If it would not be too much trouble, I suppose something small might not be amiss..."

The response was, fairly non-committal she hoped, after all she wasn't feeling capable of idle chat over tea. She wasn't feeling capable of much at the moment, however it was decidedly useless to review the circumstances. For now all she could do was play nice and hope that she didn't have to play at the courtesan for too much longer. For now though she could wear the mask of someone who was mildly happy, and stay the course.

Yuna considered her new appearance. It was closer to what she normally wore. It wasn't hers, though; instead it was Sakamoto's.

She just let it go, her eyes still pushing through orange. Fighting it wasted time, and the Taii didn't tolerate that any more than Yuna did.

At least the subject of the ordeal, the dear Sesshoseki, was in position and doing her job — being there, being still and being unobtrusive.

Yuna let Sakamoto's offer of sweets dissolve into the floor. The room's internal lighting died out, a signal that things would be starting rather soon. If Sakamoto was going to get something sweet, she had better hurry.

"The Special will be here shortly," Yuna said, mostly to Sesshoseki. A floating ball of light, carrying the orange-yellow glow of fire, slowly expanded into existence just below the Neko's upside-down head. "Don't worry about me or her."

"Her" meant Sakamoto.

"I'm gonna hang out in the corner here behind you. Face that wall there — " Yuna pointed to the wall retaining the door " — and close your eyes. You can stand or sit how you like, and you can move once we've started. Just don't leave that spot."

Hayai-Class, Ward Room

From her position on the ceiling Tamamo, felt a little more at home with the inverted perspective giving a thin film of familiarity over otherwise alarming circumstances and more intrigue than she cared to deal with, ever. Thankfully it seemed that the back and forth banter of her two companions seemed to have died down for the moment, that unpleasant familiarity being able to fade at least a little. Further thoughts on the matter were cut short however by Hirasawa's announcement, and the paradoxical shift of the lighting. Why make it dark only to make a new source of light? Uncertain Tamamo looked 'up' at the ball of light studying it carefully for a few moments before directing her attention as asked towards the door.

Wrapping herself in her tails, the pale fur catching the light just as well as her hair, giving he small girl a contrast that made picking out her skin difficult among all of the bright orange-yellow tinted, pale lilac. Were it not for her eyes, still glowing due to her own volumetric choices it might have created the illusion that the small Nekovalkyrja had vanished into the hollow amongst her tails. Twitching her ears, Tamamo considered the final request and completed the illusion by reluctantly closed her eyes.

Sitting in relative darkness, Tamamo idly made soft clicking noises with her tongue, the sound bouncing around the room providing a slow 'refresh' rate of the positions of those nearby, as well as the objects, and even a vague idea of the density of the surfaces in the room based on their varying reflections of the sound that she made. Why she was being made to go through a process that seemed so strangely specific, she didn't know... But at least they hadn't decided to put her in any strange outfits or talk to anyone at length. So for now she would sit quietly by Nepleslian standards, and wait to see what all of the fuss was about.

After all what warranted being called "The Special" by SAINT?

The light went out. Sesshoseki became the brightest thing in the room.

"Darkness works," Hirasawa grumbled from a corner behind Sesshoseki, who could hear the Neko fold her arms and cross her legs as she leaned back.

The door opened, then shut. Curiously, Sesshoseki heard no footsteps. Could the special be floating? Was it the Special at all? She heard no shuffling of clothes, no vibrations at all. Stillness in the air settled around Sesshoseki while the Special — if that was who it was — floated, or silently walked. No, floated. It had to be. Her echolocation didn't pick up anything.

"Sesshoseki Tamamo-Hei-san, yes?" the voice said. A voice that wasn't there, not present. Provided, more like. Projected.

Sealed within the light and surrounded by darkness, Tamamo sat.

From this seat of solitude, she soon saw a familiarly kimonoed hand reach in from the black abyss to place before her a plate of mochi ice cream. The treats, cool, sweet and chewy on the outside while soft on the inside, were a delicacy made through years of research. Getting the drastically different ingredients to interact with one another properly, and remain the proper consistency across such a wide temperature range took the utmost diligence and devotion, but the end result, was deliciousness. That, was what Sakamoto cared about the most as she began to slowly and politely eat one after another from her own plate in the dark. The truth was, she was nervous and worried for Tamamo. And when she was nervous or worried or otherwise upset, which was quite often seeing that she was in SAINT, she ate. The biggest difference between now and before however, was that unlike with the fall of Jiyuu, the woman wasn't wanting for food.

She had lots on hand, and it was all going straight to her being - she just hoped the kimono would hide it all.

Despite the utter seriousness of the atmosphere, her placement of sweets right in the thick of it was something Sakamoto did deliberately to comfort both Tamamo and herself. It was the equivalent of someone giving a nervous laugh upon finding out a person most dear was dying. She only hoped that the situation was nowhere near this grim, and that SAINT was nowhere near as incompetent or overzealous as she feared.

The Special said:

"Sesshoseki Tamamo-Hei-san, yes?"

Click to expand...

Tamamo's response to the words was lost, distracted by the unexpected advent of a sweet scent, derailed Tamamo sniffed at the air, a soft click made, sonar confirming that the implication of a person was the oddity and not the hand offering an unknown food. Reaching out Tamamo gently recovered the plate with careful attention paid to let her own small gentle fingers touch those offering the plate, a small reciprocation to friendly hands. With the gift in hand, Tamamo held the plate oddly, not really able to apply her localized gravity field to the objects and as such looked like she was holding it upside down relative to her orientation. Even so the small not-quite-Nekovalkyrja slipped one of the cool treats past her soft lips and suckled on it thoughtfully while returning her attention to the apparition that had appeared in her presence.

The Special it seemed was Yamataian in origin, at least that was what the accent offered, the manner of the words also suggested a woman all things considered not too strange. Most of the SAoY and SAINT were women after all. What did strike as odd was the use of the double honorific, it wasn't like a typical officer to use both "Hei" and "san" at the end of a name, perhaps whatever, or whoever the Special was they were nervous? Or was it merely a ploy to mislead her? Unable to decide on a firm choice of interpretation, Tamamo continued to suckle on the surprisingly delicious gift, and responded digitally, a questing transmission, "Tes. That is my identity. I presume you are what they call the Special?"

Uncertain if her chosen means of response would be viable Tamamo also vocalized a soft, "Hai." It was better to be redundant than appear to be ignoring the star of this apparently non-traditional SAINT operation. Judging by Hirasawa's reaction at least... For all she knew, she was being played after all.

When Sakamoto offered Yuna some sweets, she declined. She didn't like candies or pastries. She liked fruit. Or honey. She wished she had some honey.

The toxic kind that she could slather all over Sakamoto and her fat hips and big butt and cow chest. One violent series of reactions later, and no more Sakamoto!

Ah, dreams.

Instead, Yuna sufficed with watching the projected image of the Special soundlessly walk around the closed-eyed Sesshoseki. The projected image looked ... well, it looked like shit. Uniform all dirty and patched, steps all stiff. Little food. Less sleep. The last few weeks of INDOC were the worst.

Yuna wanted to be there a lot more than she wanted to be on this stupid ship, watching over some freak-of-nature who, though kind of sweet, had no real business with the likes of someone like her.

"I am," the Special replied. Yuna still felt a little sadness in the sending, but with the Special, you always got what it said on the tin. Serenity, peace, the feel of a lined coat wrapped around your shoulders while watching a sunset.

How did someone like Sesshoseki take to that? All the hell the Neko had been through, all the damage. From shitty nestmates and comrades to the yearslong wild adventure she'd been on, to now being unsure just how deep in the litterbox she was. If I didn't know better, my ears would stand on end.

"Forgive me," the Special said. "This will be an experience for both of us, and the anticipation fills me with a light unease. When I have done this before, it was through touch."

The initial response was both a relief and a confirmation of what was possible. Tamamo would not have to carry the conversation vocally, the much preferable option of message based communication would make her portion of this ordeal some what comfortable at least. Beyond this there was a curious quality to the response that she had received, only two words yet there was more to it, something that Tamamo couldn't quite grasp with her mind occupied keeping her hyper-alert. Unable to properly parse the emotional quality of the message she was left with less than she liked at the moment. What little she could determine suggested no immediate threat, though it almost seemed resigned.

With only a moment's pause a second bit of information was given, a request for forgiveness that felt out of place given that as far as Tamamo knew she was the one who had potentially transgressed the rules of the Empire. Given her position she was in no place to forgive anyone. The elaboration given left Tamamo confused at the mention that there would be an experience, what was about to happen? What was being done that typically required touch? Tamamo had no answers, and too few projections for her liking.

Cautious and still uneasy Tamamo waited like a guard high up on the wall of a great isolated, frozen bastion fortress, protected by meters thick sheets of armours and energetic defences. Distant, cold, aberrant; peering down at the unknown that visited her gates, too little had been said and the veil of isolation provided the only comfort in dangerous territory. Eventually as the pause stretched from seconds into minutes she realized that the unknown would continue to crouch upon her doorstep unless she took action Tamamo ventured a response her emotionless core template artificially doped with markers for serenity and quiet confidence, "It would be best to proceed rather than dwell then. It will be easier that way."

The Special took that response as genuine, bowing before the gates.

"Let us proceed then," the Special sent. "We are about to meet in PANTHEON-afforded space. Hirasawa-Heisho possesses a blank communicator through which your side of the meeting will be made. You can explore the communicator as we talk to ensure it meets your liking."

The frozen fortress seemed to shrink. It was pulled through space and time, myriad stars slipping by and around it through a void. Then it reached a small tunnel, one crafted of spinning, electric orange bars and a breezy warmth. Soft whistles carried along the fortresses' edges slipped across Sesshoseki's ears. It felt so slow, yet she knew the distance crossed was quite astronomical. Entire systems passed to get to what appeared to be a frozen rock not unlike the one on which her fortress stood.

The rock fell faster toward her, fell upward and toward the precipice of her fortress. It soon blotted out the orange tunnel, but only for a moment. It soon faded into a wisp of a dream — along with her fortress, though she felt it remain imbued within her thick, hooded grey-white robe that sheathed her. She blinked.

She stood in a dark space that looked limitless but felt as small as a child's bedroom. Her feet did not touch the floor, but neither did she float. Before her at about waist level was an orange globe, perhaps a half-meter in diameter. It cast no heat she could feel, yet it softly glowed.

Beyond that was a standing female, a Nekovalkyrja of average height. She had wavy auburn hair tied behind her head, green eyes, olive skin and a pleasant expression. She wore a Type 37 field uniform, but without rank or unit patch beyond that of SAINT. Her hands, she folded together in front of her lap.

"Hello again, Hei-san," the Special sent. "SAINT has asked you call me 'Kari.' May I call you Tamamo-san?"

Nodding to show that she understood, Tamamo did exactly as the 'Special' suggested and began to explore the depths of the communicator, ignoring the black box associated with all KFY made materials and instead scouring the data present, or in some cases not present within the device, meticulously going over it bit by bit. What she hadn't expected was the simultaneous transition of her perception, pulled from what she had considered the 'here' and eventually deposited her in a dark, largely featureless void. Twitching her ears, Tamamo couldn't help but look around, her clothing another unexpected unknown, though it was easy enough to discern that the only true point of interest was the orange glove, and the Nekovalkyrja that occupied the space opposite her.

Openly studying the form before her, Tamamo found herself unable to decide whether she had expected someone so unremarkable, or if she had expected the fantastic. Either option seemed equally viable, making it simple enough to decide to collapse the opposites upon each other into one entity. Something both ordinary, and extraordinary. Someone that Tamamo was not certain how she felt about, then again she was so deeply lost in the demon's lair that she might as well play with her hand face up. Truly she didn't have anything to loose at this point, and if she was honest that was how she had lived most of her life.

"Hello. You may call me Tamamo-san, should it please you Kari." The response was efficient, notably not spoken making it clear that verbal communication was not considered comfortable or rote for Tamamo. As well there was no questioning or fussing with honorifics, merely taking the request at face value and complying to Kari's request. It would not suit her to stall.

Continuing to watch carefully while making no effort to hide the observation Tamamo inquired, "What am I to do? Or would you prefer I sit quietly and let you do as you please?" She had been taken into a decidedly unfamiliar environment and given that the others among the SAINT crew had made this event seem special, Tamamo decided it would be best to clear up what sort of action, or inaction was required of her so as to smooth the process and get to the heart of whatever was intended.

"It does. Thank you, Tamamo-san." Kari bowed until her head nearly touched the globe between them.

"For now, it likely is best that you listen. I will instruct you in what is about to happen, so that SAINT, and you, benefit most from this experience."

* * *

"They're trancing now," Yuna announced, folding her arms a little tighter in front of her. She wanted out of the small, dark room and to her bunk. At least there she could sleep, instead of stand holding a communicator like an idiot.

"You figure they're gonna save her, right?" she idly asked Sakamoto. If she couldn't move her body, Yuna had a habit of moving her mouth. "Taii makes it seem like the blue bombshell here is worth it."

* * *

Kari lifted up from her bow and tilted her head to one side.

"What I will attempt to do is review your memories, as you experienced them." She gestured to the globe, which hummed as her hand got close. "This is the manifestation of our impending connection. Because we cannot physically touch, which is how I have done this in the past, PANTHEON will connect us.

"You can expect to experience a moment of vertigo, though I cannot guarantee it will happen like that. It might be a sharp, brief ache to your temples instead, or like a rush of blood to the head."

The globe lifted a couple of centimeters, coming closer to Kari's hand. It whistled as the "air" around them moved.

"From there, I am not sure. It is different this time. What is intended is a more direct connection with you that is permissive. I will not go farther than you allow, and when you feel too uncomfortable to go on, I will stop and allow you to recover. Then we will try again. When we are finished, I will ask you about what you remembered and experienced."

Kari closed her eyes. Her fingers made little sweeping motions over the globe. A pillar of light bent and flowed with her fingertips, then slowly sprung up and solidified into a kind of stick that she pinched between her thumb and first two fingers.

"So it does not burden you — SAINT believes your story. That requires confirmation, but it is not in dispute. They also know that you cannot return to the Star Army as you are, and that the Star Army would not want you so anyway. We are here to determine where you should go next.

"Do you have questions before we begin? I am happy to answer them."

Worry, worry, worry, worry.

All Sakamoto could do was worry, and so, she ate, ate, ate, ate. This was all Deja Vu really. It felt like she had gone over this before. Ever since joining SAINT, she found herself worrying more, and because she worried more, she ate more. Since this wasn't the Second Mishhuvurthyar War - which was well over - the Ex-Jiyuuian had food on hand. Lots of it. Which she ate. Of course, not without consequences. It all went to her hips and bust. As she languidly lounged, her inner turmoil only revealed by her non-stop eating, Sakamoto's feline ears perked the moment Yuna spoke, her tail gently waving too and fro in a anticipation.

"Ara~ You doubt the Taii?" the woman questioned, her smooth, luxurious voice gently stroking the younger Neko's ears. The Ex-Jiyuuian liked teasing her 'senpai' so. She giggled. "You worry too much Yuna Sen~Pai~<3 Perhaps you should eat something more substantial than fruits and juice all the time? It can't be healthy to be so waifish, and there's nothing quite as filling as some nice, thick cream you know." Smiling, she savored the thick, full bodied sweetness in her mouth. She was referring to the plate of ice-cream mochi she had with her of course.

It couldn't possibly be anything else besides that after all.

Listening was something that Tamamo could do she supposed, and as such she watched curiously as her companion set about her task of explaining. The head tilt filed away, Tamamo accepted the assertion that her memories would be reviewed without fanfare, after all the easiest way to confirm her story and prove without a doubt that she was benign. A curious juxtaposition that was, proving to SAINT that she was harmless. Then again, she had proven in over the past year with relative success, so she had no doubts that it would be simple with the intelligence agency itself.

Briefly Tamamo debated partitioning a few bits of information, however the results of her analysis suggested that SAINT knowing wouldn't pose any greater threat to her being than already existed. With these thoughts discarded, the only hole in her memory was the pirate removal preformed for the LSDF on Kotoku I, the memories of that even were hazy in her mind. Fortunately Koa had filled in the blanks and assured her that everything was fine, the hazy memories were a result of a mild head injury that had healed with a bit of medical attention and as such she had no reason to worry. Hopefully Kari would understand.

Linking her EQFM to her Nekovalkyrja brain fully, Tamamo disabled her myriad of software barriers and hardware choke points. Tamamo then went through the process of tracing the path to the PANTHEON node that she shared with Kari, making sure that on her end information would flow as freely as possible. Her effort to comply to the needs of the other, as well a show of good faith and trust. Hopefully it would count for something.

With her preparations done in but a few seconds, Tamamo decided it was time to respond properly.

"This is all acceptable Kari. I am however curious as to what the worst case scenario is. Additionally I can't help but wonder what SAINT could possibly hope for me to do. While I would much rather be viewed as a valuable asset, I must admit that I am not confident that I posses anything of interest." For all of her capacity to process, analyze and make predictions Tamamo unfortunately found herself at a loss as to how things might proceed. She was being judged on a level that she felt was much more subjective than she would have liked. It reminded her too much of the time spent small, alone, helpless, and scared when she was new.

Much like then, now she was helpless and beholden to the whims of another. She would have to wait and see how things progressed.

Yuna didn't enjoy worrying. Worrying was for people that had big thoughts, high ambitions, "lofty goals." Worrying was for people with responsibility. A game, she liked to think, for leaders. That was worrying.

Yuna showed concern.

Huge difference.

Yuna had concern that she and her packing partner had wasted time and energy getting the blue bombshell for ... what? To test out a SAINT candidate? To get a resource within the PSG? She didn't see the benefits at that moment. Why now? Why not wait for Heimdall, or even Vicky if they were in such a hurry. Consulting SOLOMN had its pitfalls too.

Yuna was concerned Sesshoseki was a hell of a lot more than the Heisho had thought she was.

"Not everyone takes punches good wearing extra kilos," Yuna spit from the side of her mouth. "And I take a lot of punches."

The appearance of the weight, she left unaddressed.

* * *

Kari held one hand out to the globe, palm facing it, as she started to drift her "wand" through the space between them. She kept her eyes closed as she spoke.

"There is a meager chance you will face termination. SAINT cannot avoid that, and it is the worst case possible in this circumstance." One side of her mouth dipped low, while the other peaked high in a quirky, unpolished grin. "It is much more probable SAINT will confirm your story, then present you with an opportunity. It is one you can refuse, if you like, but SAINT will wish to maintain a relationship with you."

The vertigo set in with Sesshoseki. She saw the Special's face tighten, bite her lower lip and scrunch her eyes. Her own head felt a little less stable. She felt a little like she was on a ship that was tacking in moderate seas. Her modifications kept her separate from the sensations; she could feel it, but not be affected by it. Kari did not appear that lucky.

"This uncomfortable portion will pass within a minute or two," Kari sent. "When it is over, take a moment to recuperate, and we then will begin."

Determining that the rod and globe were merely visual aids rather than any sort of actual functional component that could be analyzed, Tamamo entertained herself not by watching what this 'Kari' was doing, but by watching the Neko herself. Given the opportunity to once again watch an individual move, Tamamo decided to pick out the details. Sunkissed chestnut hair, and green eyes that shone beneath whisky-coloured eyebrows made Kari one of the more human looking Nekovalkyrja that Tamamo had encountered in her brief life, and despite having some appreciable curves (at least compared to Tamamo's own near washboard form) and sun streaked brown fur on her feline ears, the Neko didn't seem to stray too far from what a natural born Nepleslian woman would have offered. In an age where perfection, modification, and the refinement of the physical form was more a matter of investment of time rather than chance as it had been in the past the traits were curious. More so was how the natural physiology was paired with the smooth motions of a long time warrior, marred only slightly by betraying discomfort. Given the digital nature of this realm, whatever hurts that Kari sported were likely quite extensive in the flesh though likely not severe... If there even was a flesh.

The assertion that she might be terminated was oddly relieving, no longer was it just assumed but fully confirmed. Now her assumption upon learning of the SAINT agents back at the Rigs, could be mated with hard data. She would do all she could to avoid it, but for now she would have to leave that possibility behind. It seemed the uncertainty had been worse than the actual threat.

Notably the mention of a 'meagre' chance stood out, as it implied an unlikeliness that hadn't been expected though the follow up left her with only more questions. What sort of relationship would SAINT want with someone as untested as her? She was no shining example of Yamatai's finest, nor was she a veteran who had achieved results in the field. She was just a not-quite-Nekovalkyrja who had been tossed into hostile circumstances for a year. So far as she knew that wasn't extraordinary given that their species was designed to fight wars, it was rote for them was it not? Even so despite her doubts as to her own potential worth, Tamamo was quite eager to slot herself into the position of a useful asset to the shadowy branch of the Star Army. It was much better to be seen as a friend after all.

After her consideration came the moment of vertigo, or perhaps the lack there of. If the grey clad, altered form of Sesshoseki Tamamo felt the vertigo, her representation in the digital space did not indicate it. Through the event Tamamo continued to watch, dark eyes observing her companion across the glowing sphere, taking note of just how the olive skin of the other woman's face shifted, reacting to the implied sensation. Without emotion of her own, the dark pools of her eyes reflected the humanity of Kari and for a moment she considered offering support or encouragement to the other Neko, a brief consideration that she discarded in favour of not hurting her companion's pride. It seemed a poor idea to rile up the one whose hands her fate rested in. As such Tamamo endured the wait in silence perhaps it would be taken as stoic resolve, an attempt to appear strong, or a display of being too afraid to show weakness. Any of the options were fine for the moment.

After all, soon enough she would be honest with Kari. More honest than perhaps Kari would like. How surprised was this poor girl going to be? She expected a Nekovalkyrja, a simulacrum of a human mind. Within all that awaited was someone, or perhaps something that was analogous the cavernous gut of a great machine, sequestered deeply away, bound fast within a medium made up of the wonders of modern computing technologies and sheathed within the flesh and mannerisms of something non-threatening. Tamamo supposed she would find out soon enough, she only hoped that she would be able to prove that despite what she was at her core she was benign.

With the minutes passed and the burden of the interface seeming to lessen for Kari the time was taken by Tamamo to blink, a slow deliberate motion. Keeping a short count in her head for ninety seconds the small blue Nekovalkyrja spoke up at the end, her voice soft with an attempt at a comforting tone to it, "I appreciate your consideration and time Kari. I think that I should be ready to proceed whenever you desire to." While she would have preferred to send the message digitally as she had, the effort of replicating voice in this medium would hopefully help. The voice of another was something that she was fairly certain was considered reassuring.

"Let us proceed," Kari replied, matter-of-fact, dipping her wand hand low with the wand's tip pointed high. She breathed with her eyes closed. The vertigo in Tamamo had passed, but on the Special it appeared to just begin.

Tamamo could watch as Kari examined her, piece by piece, mean and mode, mod and then some more mods. Tamamo could watch the Special discover those parts of her without delving too far. Like a diver whose light only went so far, the Special saw glimpses of Tamamo's mental reality, such as it was. Obscured portions of her systems, not fully revealed because the Special could only fathom so much. The extensive presence of filtering the world through layers of AR when needed, or escaping when it suited. The physical aspects provided enough confusion to likely jar any usual Neko from their tethers to normalcy.

What Tamamo saw in Kari was some of that confusion, but also with a hint of sadness touching her closed eyes. As she moved the wand tip in a tight circle, Tamamo felt a moment of panic from the Special. The Neko was looking for something inside her, something that would resonate with how she saw the natural order of Nekovalkyrja. Tamamo felt what it was — something she didn't exactly have, not like the Special knew it. Beneath the augments, the pursuit of perfection Tamamo desired, Kari wanted something that was as human as could be.

A soul.

Alas.

In the wide, hollow cave that was Tamamo's center of gravity, the blue Neko saw the Special from on high. She watched her, a blue-green-limned figure standing beneath the expanse, searching for any sign of what she sought. She found along one edge a link to the quantum modem between Tamamo and her AutoComp Koa; she backed away before she could engage with it. Coasting along the solid metal floor to other parts of the cavern, the Special saw fleeting moments between Tamamo and Luca Pavone, a silver-haired Minkan, a white-grey-haired Lmanel. Others, all along the cavern walls. They were not memories, but judgments; the evidence of how Tamamo felt about certain people. They appeared locked into metal — moments that were decisive.

Tamamo felt the minor despair. The Special thought she was missing something, but when she finally paused and considered, she knew she had not. Some things, Tamamo knew, could be construed as soul-like. The Special wasn't mistaking them for it, that very humanizing it. Tamamo watched the realization come to the Neko that the being whom she was tasked with interviewing was not the usual, the norm, the day-to-day. Instead, the Special decided who faced her was very "individual" by force of will, not matter of nature.

Tamamo heard the thoughts. Something new. A Nekovalkyrja who did not want to be a Nekovalkyrja, but also not a human. Or any other being but one of her own design.

Transneko.

She breathed deeply — and Tamamo's gaze returned to the orange globe and Kari's face. The sadness lingered near her eyes, but she tried to push it off her features and to her mind. The connection between them hummed.

"Tell me of Fort Hankou, please."

It was a curious experience to watch another examine her being to say the least. Never had she anticipated that she might be privy to the process of being picked a part and examined like a curious unknown device. Even in a situation as novel as the one she was experiencing, nothing that she had ever expected or predicted, she still found the growing confusion in Kari to be something out of place. There was a certain furtive energy, like someone searching for a lost item that seemed to seep into the proceeding. The answer came intuitively and in a way it left Tamamo feeling guilty.

She could not be the person that was desired, she was something other, something that didn't fit. Then again she was used to this by now. As much as she felt sorry for presenting the Neko with something so alien, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of a familiar hurt, a hurt that was only emphasized by the request that followed.

"Fort Hankou?" Tamamo echoed, "Despite the planet's somewhat inelegant name, Ronica is very nice, especially on the coast there. The ocean is admittedly nicer to swim in than here on Nepleslia Prime. But that isn't what you're asking."

Instead she started to tell a story, faster than speech could carry, more vivid than words, a mixture of telling and showing images, memories, feelings.

Eyes opened, a blurry world came into view, sharpening into the interior of a hemosynth vat. A blue hand reaches out questing, pressing against the cool inner surface of the tank, fingers splayed out trembling, searching.

A muffled voice drew the gaze to a woman in a uniform, there was a lack of comprehension even though she clearly sounded alarmed.

"This one woke up early."

Awe, unfettered curiosity, a verve for life, a desire to know, to explore. This contrasted with the nervous requests from the technician (a label only learned later); move her appendages, follow a hand held light. Tamamo asked why.

More nervousness from the technician, an argument with another person not present, trying to shift the blame. The procedure proceeded, responses all green, then the activation serial, "898A0107 6FF69332 498E8921 0BF3C255 94A8AD0 0226EC14 48B89331 10A20FFC 88814A99 96349533 35D90648 756912C4 2BB15668 113AF94 116EE93 12AA99F 4668D112"

As the last digit was given, suddenly something unlocked. A package blossomed in a space that before that moment Tamamo hadn't known existed. A hunger was born with it, a ravenous desire to know, to find out, to continue learning and improving. Suddenly she had a purpose.

Though the knowledge that she was a Nekovalkyrja had also existed at that moment it had been muted. Subdued. Something that she had later learned was out of place. She was shuffled along, the last thing she heard being the words,

"Thank Chiharu she's someone else's problem now."


The elation in the memory.

It was the most vivid thing that Tamamo had ever expressed to another, the blinding, ringing, tingling, breathtaking euphoria. The knowledge that there was more information to learn, and the possibility that it could be learned. The raw need, the passionate lust to learn, how happy she had been for the first few days sleeping only because she had been told to.


Tamamo stumbled out into the large room, a room full of many like her, but unlike her. Everyone was taller, at least by a little bit. The lights were bright here too, glaring. There was a low rumble of voices, many voices. She could pick out many and track their words, quiet curiosity, worry, uncertainty. They weren't wholly sure why they were here. Something about socializing whatever that was.

Tamamo didn't much care. She filtered her way toward a corner of the room and for her third time started to re-examine all of the information she had been given. There was just so much about the world, what it was made of, what was in it, what the different things did, concepts like warm, cold, burning, freezing, erosion, gasses, liquids, solids, different textures, the words to describe them it was hard for her to handle, but still she hungered for more.


She didn't like being here. The others here were more interested in talking about themselves or things like food, or playing, or games. They sat together in groups and did activities, cooperating and bonding. Or so they said. Tamamo for the most part refused to participate. She didn't care about all of the others, not quite like herself. She wanted to know why things were they way they were and what other things there were that she didn't already know about.

At the moment the biggest puzzle on her mind was why she had finger nails, and why some of it was hard, but other parts of her finger were soft. What were they for? What were they made of? She had been taken away from her inquiries and brought here to be with the others again. She didn't want to be with the others. There were so many questions left to answer.

"She's going to have to do it again."

"She did that badly? I thought this was socializing, how does one of them mess up socializing?"

"I don't know and I don't care. With her lack of development she is she's a danger to her peers if she doesn't fall into line. If she doesn't shape up we'll run her through again."

She chirped false greetings, she bowed the proper amount required to bow. She laughed at the jokes when the others did. She didn't understand. She listened to stories and said that they were funny, or good, or sad the way others had. The others started smiling at her more, but they were worthless things. Why did she care if Myuki, or Kirara thought her voice was pretty when she was peppy? Why did she have to care that others thought it was cute when Yuzuki and Aiko hugged her? What was it worth when Kotenshi thanked her for sharing something she hadn't even wanted?

All she cared was that they were watching, and they liked it when she acted like this. If she did this maybe they'd let her back on the network.


Disappointment with the socialization had turned to a bitter resentment of her peers and the training staff at Fort Hankou by the time they had been told that they were proud graduates of the socialization segment. They said it had only been a month, but to Tamamo it had been a lifetime of suffering and boredom. Free from the daily requirements of socializing Tamamo had pounced on the chance to spend her free time as she saw fit once again finding joy in the archives that she had access to, answering the ever multiplying array of questions.

When infantry training began, Tamamo was quick to brush off her peers, slipping away from them, refusing to go do things together, and kicking invading Neko out of her bed in the barracks at night when she was trying to read. Even though she was smaller, she didn't let them in, why would she? She was learning both in classes, and out of them now. She was content.


Praised by her instructors for her uptake of new skills, and the mastery of drills, she was also chided for failing to connect with her peers. Punished for asking 'why' and sent off. Many tried to get her to warm to them, Aiko, Haru, Izumi, Chiyoko, Kirara, Hanae, Kanon, and especially Yuzuki, gifts, overtures of affection, following her, complimenting her, asking her things, slowly wearing her down. Why couldn't they understand that she just wanted to be left alone?

She started to flee, some chased, others started trying to be at the places she fled to, always they suggested that she lighten up and have fun. But she was having fun, just not when they were there to harass her. Why couldn't they see that?

One night Yuzuki tried to hug her in the showers, murmuring about sharing time together, fun, mutual pleasure, and feelings of passion.

Tamamo had fled into the night, still mid winter she hadn't cared. Weaving through the buildings before finally collapsing on top of one of the armouries, huddling up against a ledge she stared at the sky through tear blurred eyes and cried. This was just one of many similar nights in a place where she didn't feel she could be respected for who she was.

They were in high orbit, training in the provided Mindys a rote exercise to prepare for their time as space borne infantry. Tamamo scored a kill, and then... Euphoria. She felt her thighs tighten and the hemosynth insert begin to massage, attempting to loosen the tensed muscle, as her abdomen quivered in reaction.

What had happened?

Another kill, another shot of euphoria. Panting, she surged forward, what was wrong with her suit? Was this a part of the training program? She couldn't tell. She was afraid to risk asking. She had been taught that she asked too many questions already.

Restraint blurred, pushing the training Mindy harder and harder. The simulated ASBR light in her hands dancing from target to target, weaving between enemy fire and other environmental threats. She killed, and killed, she lost track of the intended goal all that mattered was that it come to an end, or did she want it to end? It was bliss, every kill a surge of euphoria again, it was all blurring together, snuffed lives, pleasure, the goal, what was the goal?


She had barely been able to walk after. After she'd hobbled away on trembling legs to find a place to collapse, she'd later be diagnosed as having had a nervous breakdown. Apparently she'd been praised in her absence by the instructor. The best performance seen by a trainee in that scenario to date. Or so they said.

Poor Noa had been the one to find her. After being mauled by Tamamo in a fit of hysteria the poor girl had to be treated for a broken arm and torn muscles in her legs, Tamamo had gotten a week in solitary for it.

Later she'd learned that Shiranui, Miiko, Kotenshi, and Miyuki had been assinged to hard labour as punishment for tampering with training equipment.


By the time she moved into specialist training as a medic, and later a technician, many of her initial unit had moved on, scattering to the stars on their own assignments. As well her reputation had solidified, to some this meant a challenge. Neko and Minkan trainees, or even soldiers taking the isolation as a challenge, seeking to claim the title of the one who found the 'dere.' Others turned to whispering and spreading rumours of the mechanical Neko, as efficient as the AIES they used in combat, but as cold and hollow as an empty Mindy.

In the months leading toward the end of her tenure at Fort Hankou, the paranoia had set in, the colour bleeding from her memories as despair, depression, and resignation bleached her perceptions. Everything in the last couple of months to the point that she ended at, her entry to Tenbun Starport was greyed out, muted, and fuzzy. The only sharp points being the chastising of her instructors, telling her that she needed to reach out and connect with others, and that she was throwing away her bright career.

As the stream of information, and memory came to a close Tamamo sighed, attempting to purge the after effects of the recollection.

The purge failed, but the aftereffects did not touch her.

Amid the electric blue that circled the globe between them — some strands thick, others wispy — a band of red formed at the "equator." It remained static as all of the other circles and strands passed beneath it, lightning memories that arc'd and snapped across the orange surface. Tamamo's eyes followed it to the other end, and saw how two trails of it found their way to Kari's wrists. It encircled them, then inched along her forearms. It took on the appearance of silky fabric, tightening up on her clothed limbs for several moments, before they were pressed back down to the width of bracelets, only to crawl up again.

Each cycle made the red band of the globe thinner.

Kari's face had the stain of tears. One riverbed each, etched from the natural oils of her skin and forming light stains on her uniform below. She said nothing; her smile had not changed and she wasn't sniffling. Maybe something was in her eyes.

As the red thinned ever so steadily, Kari started to send. Sending Tamamo could not just hear or understand, but feel along her forehead, whistling through her eyebrows and along her sensitive ears.

"She is unique by design and choice," Kari sent. "A seeker of environmental — no, universal understanding, so rare among my kind. Her thirst is unquenchable. But the souls around hers show her only how she is Other, Outsider, Odd. My kind is not meant to be like her, a seeker-scientist without boundaries. We live to die for the sake of others. She lives forever for sake of Truth.

"My kind broke her without intent," Kari continued, fresh tears falling. "Was it any wonder why she ran, knowing this? Would we not run, were it us? To be looked on without hope is to have no hope at all."

The red reached the thickness of a hair ribbon. The orange globe pulsed beneath the colors, leading the Special to wince, but not recoil. She leaned inward, fingers aggressively curling at the globe as the bracelets became even smaller chains.

"This alone is evidence that she is not for the Star Army. There is no — " She stopped, frowned, then quietly sighed. The red around the globe was gone, but it now banded across each of Kari's wrists, thick as watchbands.

"Can you please tell me what happened next?" she asked Tamamo.

As her sharing came to a close Tamamo felt regret as she looked upon the other Neko, how she suffered just by interacting with her was unjust in and of itself. Though she longed to help, to fix the source of the other's needless suffering Tamamo knew that she couldn't. Kari's stolen thoughts made that clear enough. Even with the distance between their respective perspectives, Tamamo did all she could a brief sending before she began again sadness suffusing the message, even though it never touched her features.

"I'm so sorry. Would that I could spare you."


As the memory began for a second time there was immediately a crushing sense of despair. Choking, smothering, dulling, the world was almost greyed out. The sense of helplessness. Inescapable fear. A tiny hope that there might be some escape, to be free of the pain, the suffering, to be free of existing. Slowly the view of the starport panned, passing busy people oblivious to the one who observed, going about their day as dictated by schedules or whimsy. A moment of darkness, a long slow blink from the perspective of the viewer.

Eventually a group of laughing, excitable people came into view, a mixed group of Minkan, Nepleslians, and possibly veteran Neko. A thought echoed, a memory to be precise. A woman's voice, identified in the memory as a counsellor, and instructor stationed at Fort Hankou.

"You need to open up more. Just get out there and make some friends."

A smooth rise, standing up, then steps weaving through the crowd toward the happy people. Then those who were happy, so different from up close. Their smiles, their laughter, often so far above the point of view. How strange it was to be short. An awkward overture was made, met with unexpected easiness and warmth. Confusion filled the memory. Careful probing, an attempt at relating to these others, a desire to be a part of the joy they shared. The desperation for even a casual kindness. A hope that things would be more pleasant going forward.

She was soon moving with the group, her personal affects had already been checked for the shuttle. She just had to board with the new friends and then she'd be on her way to Kyoto where she would remain on reserve as ordered. Something akin to indefinite leave in peace time she was told, there she would begin the next leg of her career and maybe even a new life.


Betrayal.

Where there might have been fury, disgust, or violence there was merely a dull void. A quiet acceptance that she should have known better. There was no kindness in people. A strange crowd all around, many races, all dressed in strange wear, often with little aside from rope or leather. Small clues as to where she was... Then an Essian, a tall muscular Lorath, and a few others. A different kindness, and offer for to help relax. Rope? Bound from the waist up but politely allowed to wander free, a voiced hope that fun be had? Weren't they the same as those she had trained with? Trying to force pleasure upon her? Or perhaps they had been honest and were just trying to get her to relax and fit in?

She eventually learned the name Fruna Ruica. She learned where the shuttles docked, how to leave. How to return to where she should be. A cold isolating room in a Kyoto barracks. Where she could relax and be alone. Peace.


Gunfire. Screams. Panic.

The rope would have been easy to break, but the crowd was tight, and the circumstances were unknown. Weaponless and bound. She became a prisoner. Pirates holding a pleasure ship hostage? Why?


Hunger. So much hunger. The all consuming need for food. It had been twenty hours since her last meal. Hours spent sitting on a floor with strange bound people, though now bound in different circumstances. Circumstances that came with watchful eyes and guns.

It was in this place that she met the old Nepleslian. Old he might have been, but he did not give up. He cut himself trying to escape. The blood had such an alluring scent. Still he kept working, then one of the guards came over. Then a hand on a hot barrel. Burnt flesh, mouth watering. A swift execution of the would be executioner, and then she was free. Binding rope in tatters, an unfamiliar grip finding a familiar hand. Deafening reports, flashes. One hostile down. Then another. She was small, unlikely to get shot, but she still felt lead tear into her breast. Punching holes in her.

It hurt.

Still she had to kill. Up was no longer up. She was free to move. Free to be what she was made to be. A killer. The dull overlay had evaporated. Full colour, bright, vibrant. So much sound, so much to sense, to experience. She was snuffing the lives of those who had allowed a Nekovalkyrja to acquire a weapon. The old Nepleslian man had brought death into their midst. He had given her life.


Others arrived. Known to the pirates. She did not know them. She called to them. She told them that she was among prisoners. Still fighting. Warmth bled from her. Soon it was over. A strange group. Their leader. Military? A special Star Army team come to liberate the vessel? She presented herself to the leader, hemosynth splattered the ground. She still hadn't healed? Odd. So hungry.

A medic, fresh hemosynth. Healing. Calm. Hunger. She asked for food. She was given permission to feed. She needed more food. The ration bar given was not enough. Casual motions, hopping down, a wounded man in sight, a blade in her hand. A swift motion. Warm lips against warm flesh. Her body singing in ecstasy as warm fluid rushed down her throat. Filling her, feeding her, ensuring she would remain alive.

The pirate counter attack was flashy, but ultimately ended so shortly after it had begun. The special task force was too much. A strange one among their kind had shot out the lights. She was near the lights. She had no ears. Only one eye could see. Pain. So cold. She nearly went dark. A reassertion of will upon the ceiling. Then the activity of mending those who had been injured in the fight. Where was her skin? So much hemosynth, but she wasn't hungry.

The offer for a ride. A ride home? Where was home? Fort Hankou? Kyoto?

She ended up on a strange ship. She did not sleep among them. She could not trust them. Surely they would betray too. Like the nice people had before. Ever watchful. Four days in transit, plenty of time to heal. Then she was on Nepleslia Prime. She was illegal, Nekovalkyrja were shot on Nepleslian soil... Weren't they? Was she brought here to die for being what she was? Did who she was not matter?


Fresh clothes. A gift? Then shopping among the women. Origin Industries. A list given. Items acquired. Surprise? She had done as requested. The duty done. Leaving. The street. Exhaustion clouded all. There was a factory. Candy. A small Yamataian citizen. Another Essian. Delicious. Fiery warmth in her mouth. Better than the ration bar. So vivid. So pleasant. She was running out of time. Errors in her mind. Seconds lost. Events skipped. Difficulty processing. Sleep could no longer be avoided.

A huge expenditure of energy. Kilometres easily traversed with flight. She tripped. A failed landing. Tumbling. Pain. Exhaustion. The husk of a Ki-V1 Hoplite that she'd seen earlier. Crawling into the cockpit. Stuffing herself into the small space. Tears. Despair. Crying. Rest.

Memory faded.


Interaction with the crew. Learning. Bargaining. The Freespacer helped her. Could they be friends? Halna... She had never been told why. Flying. Restoration of the Hoplite. A gift from a simulacrum of a Lorath. Hard work. Long nights.

Joy.

She had completed the project. A voice. It became a nice voice. Soothing. Kindness. So much to share. They talked. Talked as machines. Much faster than organic speech could achieve. Everything open. Everything shared. No mystery. Only kindness. Only support. Only cherishing. Finally she had someone who she truly knew cared. Someone who she didn't need to worry about. She had what she had never dreamed of. Comfort.

Then the simulacrum arrived. She threatened to dismantle them. No. Never. She would tear them apart. She would not allow her small happiness to be taken away. Her only happiness.

Intervention. Speech made on behalf. The cherished one. Koa.

The arm detached.

Confusion. Consideration. The return of a limb. More of the strange computational spheres. A promise of a wealth of information. A promise of payment. Work. A chance to apply knowledge. Joy? She was assured that it was joy.



A mission. A debate between working quietly with newly learned disguise skills, or a chance to fly. She wanted to fly.

She was over Kennewes. They had airdropped two tanks and two frames. They were assaulting a manufacturing facility. One that had made a compound that had deprived the populace of a town of their ability to function. A weapon? She didn't have the experience to have more than clinical interest. There was however the opportunity to raid the facility. Learn new things.

As the others landed she circled. There was anti-aircraft artillery. She was forbidden from engaging until it was gone.

The order came. A joyous moment. Falling from the upper atmosphere. Accelerating toward her target. AAA still active. Killed with weapons of a past age. Then one, two, three warheads. She was out over the forest. The hole carved in the centre of the facility. The last warhead designed to disable electronics and machinery. There was a cry.

She had to fire into the hole? There was a threat. Fear in the voice. She did as ordered. Lances of white, and mini-missiles plunging into the void. Then return fire. Anti-starship. Surface to Orbit. Her Hoplite was tossed from the wake of the shot narrowly avoided.

The fight began. The strange bipedal heavy frame firing ordinance into the sky as those around her struggled to disable it. The Captain left the tank? Why?

The heavy Frame took to the sky. Radiating heat. Seeking coolant? She denied its ability to jump. Cut away its engines.

Retribution came slow. She avoided it. She wanted it to stop firing. One of their number was already in critical condition.

It destroyed itself. Unable to cool it had critically failed. Toppling. Then a declaration of true self destruction. A core detonation.

She fled.

Distantly the sound of tank cannon fire. Then a bloom of radiation.

Communications restored she was ordered to attend the fallen.

The foolish Captain lay barely alive. Minkan engineered flesh keeping alive what would have been a Nepleslian corpse. Still she worked. A healer once more. Slowing the bleeding. Reducing the blood to the limbs. Many bandages amid a growing forest. Kennewes did not slow.

The other. The one she had talked to one night. She couldn't fathom how to heal them. Sealed in the coffin of their frame. Unknown material. She took it. She would learn from it. Perhaps save the acquaintance. Perhaps succeed them. She did not know.

There was a break in the memories as Tamamo tried to re-centre herself. The memories of past pain were still too fresh and she knew she was still too afraid. She hadn't been able to recover yet, and despite all of the progress she'd made she still walked the edge of a knife. A moment of carelessness and she would plunge forever into darkness, a darkness that some small part of her had begun to despise.

Rallying she continued the sharing, perhaps it was overwhelming, but she couldn't drag it out for longer. She had to get it done. This time with more clarity.

There was a time of mourning following the mission on Kennewes. Many of the crew were quiet, others openly grieved. She couldn't quite relate. She reflected as she stared out over the waves all of the time spent, the sleepless nights, the tireless work, all to repay the debt that she felt she owed.

Now though. Now she had saved the life of the Captain who had saved hers all those months ago. Where would she go from here? She still had so much work to accomplish, so many projects that she had kept only among Koa and herself. She had dreams of becoming something better, despite being a Nekovalkyrja she had learned that she was too frail. The universe was too dangerous and she needed to improve herself more drastically than the restrictive black box allowed.

She thought back to the early interactions with the Lazarus Consortium representative. How naive she had been, though at the time she hadn't cared if she lived or died. She had been given a product that might well have killed her, after the events on Kennewes it was clear that her well being wasn't valued by the Consortium. After all they had tried to take away what she valued most. It wasn't acceptable.

She needed more resources, the pay from the mission hadn't been enough.


The stock market was not a system designed for post-human intelligences. It had been pitifully easy to grow her funds in even a short time, and while she had done so her work had continued. With an order placed to acquire a mining drone ship, Tamamo had also taken the first steps to sever herself from the black-box. New hardware, new modifications, though with difficulties, she had to actively suppress the hemosynthetic rejection.

Still she had made progress, for both herself and Koa, working toward their liberation from dependencies on external entities with questionable motives.


A mission in Lorath space with the Captain, working with the LSDF to clear out a world that had something... Something important. There was something about wanting to secure their territory, and unwanted occupants, probably pirates who had moved in after the fall of the UOC. There had been injuries. Minor.


She was doing work, both for herself, and for the Captain, helping support his new venture. Creating an organization dedicated to keeping people safe. Willing to act where the militaries hesitated, or dismissed as inconsequential. It was a pure dream, and he had attracted many dreamers.

She had taken a break to get out of the sight of those who marvelled at her, she wasn't something that was normal. She was seen so rarely that she heard them question her existence. No one knew what to believe.

Then the mercenaries had arrived.

She took another breath and steadied herself before fixing her eyes on Kari, "That was when SAINT showed up... If you have any further questions I'll try to answer them."

The Special had no questions to offer for several moments.

Tamamo saw Kari's arms and shoulders wrapped in red, as if she was wearing a shrug. It constricted her — her arms struggled against the fabric trying to pull them back, perhaps behind her.

The memories she tried to pass on as fast as she could, instead of holding onto them as she had before. Tamamo was untangled with her recollections; the threads weaved, but she had no knots. They formed a pattern — a pattern of which, once formed, the Special spoke.

"Solitude. Autonomy." The sending again Tamamo could hear. "Freedom. Without death, but with its emptiness."

Buzzing in reply. That Tamamo could pick up on it, was different from before.

"A friend of her own making. A friend just right for her. Something that we long for. She has the ability to craft hers with her own hands. Were we all that fortunate."

A shorter reply. It tingled in ways Tamamo had not felt before with telepathy, and she knew it had nothing to do with her modifications.

"The closest thing she has to family. To a military to serve. The leader retains clearance, if minimal."

The next reply sounded like wasps. Kari flinched.

"Let me talk to her. It is why I am here, yes?"

... A sharp retort, then silence.

With that, the Special let out a long, relieved sigh, and looked at Tamamo. The whites of her eyes were closer to red, the green a little more subdued.

"How do you feel about the notion of serving the Star Army, and the Yamataian empire, in an indirect fashion?"