Author’s Note: So this will be my last fic. At least for now. I wrote all that I wanted to. I actually could’ve done this and uploaded it months ago, I just...didn’t. This will establish, or rather finalize the state of affairs, such as they are, before our own player characters will begin their journey in this world. It ties my prequels/side-stories back into the canon.
A melodious ebb and flow of synthwave and lute lilted from speakers synched to the broadcasting frequency of Club Cithaeron's own radio station, filling the communal UV-lit solarium in the center of a block of connected modular metal flats, one of hundreds, inhabited by the clanless, some of who were currently congregating in its multi-tiered garden. The smell of roasting meat wafted in wide wisps from the open kitchen and canteen, at the bottom, until it was sucked in by the ventilation system, on top, never reaching the holo-emitters of the ceiling that projected the hope of an actual sky and daylight. A convincing illusion which only ever fooled anyone until their first grade in school when it was all inevitably and unapologetically shattered; the sooner the easier it was to begrudgingly accept reality. The two dozen or so people, scattered around, plus a few of their OP-AIs, were more colorful than the plain flowers they were allowed to grow from the row of wall-mounted boxes just below the edge of every balcony, as the handrails some were leaning on were bare, with no one having any inclination to decorate them.
At ground level, relatively, a few Reapers were still dining and commiserating, some with their newly restored OP-AIs, who have been saved from their fragmented prison by the up and running new version of the Fabric, which was reinforced with what little knowledge they possessed of the alien enemy. Here was Chase Cullman, Fiadh O'Deorain, and Dylan Morgan. The latter was merrily murmuring sweet nothings to his OP-AI, Glenda, who had the visage of a rather robust, yet still timid-looking, long-haired brunette, her projected attire a mix between a bar wench and a viking, her mandatory cleavage tastefully unobstructed by a breast-plate and nothing else. Fiadh's had the appearance of a nearly nude perfection of a man, with fairy-wings, which he could flutter as fast as his eye-lashes, as well as women's hearts, and was half her size, complete with a tyrian shoulder-cape and a perhaps surprisingly unostentatious circlet on his head. Cullman, grabbing his tray, wordlessly rose from his spot across from them and so did Fenrir from the ground with him.
"Oh, and where're yew off t'h?" Morgan did not not notice, even in the middle of his gushing.
"Have an appointment in R&D." Cullman cared to divulge.
"Carmen, again, huh?" Fiadh leaned forward with a grin, as did her OP-AI Reagán.
"Ah-huh." Cullman's face did not change as he lazily snatched a piece of caramelized meat off the tray in front of her, getting due protest by the way of a 'Hey!'
"If y' see Jim, give 'im a swift kick in the arse this way, eh!" Morgan told him and Cullman turned back to give a slightly foreboding nod, before he made his way to dispose of his dura-plastic tray and cutlery.
"I'll go see if I can have some of this put away for him." Fiadh picked up her own to go to the kitchen. She was nearly run over by a couple of laughing children being chased by the sprites of their OP-AIs.
...
One brief commute arced from their district to the facilities of Research and Development with its own layers of defense and admission and a row of predictably longer security check later Cullman got through all he had to, before he could step inside the deceptively not at all chaotic workspace of the department's head, whose domain appeared as such only in the physical realm to the naked eye. With her left hand Carmen was hand-drawing annotation, with the other, she was searching and cross-referencing data on a holographic display curved around her and above a table, occasionally using a common magnification filter to take glances at the bits and pieces of alien tech organized in an amphitheater-like semicircle in front of her. Behind her, a table in the middle was also arrayed with even more parts from slain specimen and a bright holographic orb, sporting a pair of feline ears, was floating from one to another, flashing almost frantically.
Cullman and Fenrir ventured further inside and up to the central-display, where Fenrir got on his hind-legs to peek more closely at the table's contents. The orb darted in his face with a yell. "Paws off flee-bag!" came a hiss and Fenrir backed down as an OP-AI in the likeness of a Feli, dressed as a scantily-clad soldier in battle-armor and a lab coat of a sort, revealed herself, kneeling on top of the table, hands propped on the edge, tail swaying as she pinned Fenrir with a glare. She looked up and, seeing Cullman, her tail stopped, she composed herself, rolling off the table to lean against it. She folded her arms.
"Chaaase." She meowed with seemingly feigned disinterest, stretching his single syllable name. She flipped her shoulder-length lilac locks with a hand and placed both on the table.
"Adelita." Cullman greeted her.
"Long time no see." she started small talk, rather immediately. "I missed you every time you were here the last few weeks."
"Been busy, I take it." Cullman went along. Adelita made a sound that was half a sigh, half her almost coughing up a hairball and nodded behind her.
"This slave-driver has me do lab-work all day, like a machine!" she moaned, with unintentional, but unavoidable irony. "Always aggregating and correlating and calculating! She has no idea what else a woman might," Her eyes flicked over Cullman. "Need in her life." she unabashedly said. Fenrir tilted his head, but Cullman seemed unfazed by her forwardness, though not oblivious to it. She thumbed at herself. "I'm more alive than she is!" she said, over the shoulder, to Carmen, who paused to shoot her a glare, willing herself to not dignify her remark with anything more.
"No comment." Cullman chose, smartly, to do the same.
"Not if you value the safety of your privates." Adelita chuckled, eyeing him up, then suggestively added, "I do. And I haven't even seen them, yet." Two fists slammed down on the table behind them and they looked to see Carmen, her jaw clenched, eyes ready shoot a whole flurry of daggers in both of them. Adelita regarded her with a sly look and whispered to Cullman. "If they could weaponize that face, those aliens wouldn't come near us." Carmen's glasses could have cracked and exploded into shards, like a blast from a shotgun, in their direction.
"You have something?" Cullman unblinkingly asked. Carmen half-lid him, slowly exhaled.
"I have something for the Council,” she turned to face them. ”But you'll want to hear it, as well. We're leaving in five minutes." Carmen declared, saying as much as she deemed enough.
"She's sooo bossy, right?" Adelita was fishing for an agreement from Cullman, who did not take the bait. Carmen stopped in her walk at her side and rounded on her.
"Continue with the data!" she either hissed or barked, none present could rightly tell, but (name) could, at least, feel mildly vindicated, and her excitement over it came in a dismayed groan. "Meet me outside!" came the second order, to Cullman, as the doors opened and shut behind her. He and Fenrir turned back to see Adelita actually crawling on the table, shifting and wiggling, as she half-heartedly moved from sample to sample. She could somehow feel their eyes on herself and confirmed with a slight blush they were indeed looking. Without a word or sound she rolled herself back up into a ball and carried on, her playful mood having lasted only but a minute. Without anything else to say, the doors closed behind Cullman and Fenrir, as well.
"It is strange." Fenrir spoke, as they headed back out of the facility.
"Hm?" Cullman glanced down, prompting him.
"A Reaper usually imprints traits of their personality onto their OP-AI. This is often mutual." Fenrir described.
"And those two seem wildly different, don't they?" Cullman followed, with a slight smile.
"Indeed." Fenrir said.
"So, what do you think?" Cullman was curious to hear his reasoning.
"There are several possible answers." Fenrir started, as they passed a check-point.
"Pick one." Cullman challenged somewhat. Fenrir paused to look up at him, then, caught up to him.
"Very well." he agreed. "Considering how personalities can change, depending on experience from external factors, also the speed at which us OP-AI are able to learn and grow, it is likely Adelita was not the one who has changed, over time. The possibly inspiration of her name and the fact Carmen herself used to work on the field, would suggest a more...tumultuous...past. Adelita must have retained much of the personality that was originally imprinted on her by Carmen, in the early years of their companionship, and she prefers to keep it, meaning Carmen...may have been a different person, decades ago." Fenrir concluded.
"She definitely was." Cullman actually recalled, having some memories of what some of the other Reapers used to be like, which made Fenrir briefly stop, again, as he realized Cullman knew the answer all along and was simply testing him.
...
At the foot of the Council’s chambers, as all such places had to be symbolically elevated above the rest, even on a space-station, Carmen stalked ahead of Cullman and Fenrir, languidly taking the steps, one at time, in a way that emphasized her mood, amongst 'other' things about her, to which Fenrir was still oblivious to and Cullman was politely not appreciating in any obvious way. Both halted as the former heard his first name, in a high-pitched voice, coming from the direction of the adjacent Archives. Turning their heads at the same time, they saw Reem Rafiq literally bouncing down the slightly sloping set of stairs. No one could have failed to notice the large wolf and her excitement grow to match it.
"Hey! You must be Fenrir!" she exclaimed, recalling their brief exchange through the Archives' consoles.
"Correct. Greeting, Reem Rafiq! I assume you have concluded your visitation of your mother." Fenrir said and Reem was only momentarily surprised, but understood how he would know, after their last exchange.
"Correct!" she beamed at him and a normal-sized, teal cat flickered into existence, clinging to her left shoulder to peer at the unfamiliar faces. The color was not actually unusual in real cats, either, anymore.
"We're seeing an abundance of felines, today." Chase commented convivially, as he was actually fond of cats, though some, of the holographic sort, would have proved to be even less considerate of things such as decency or one's personal space than actual ones, and they could have easily crossed either of those boundaries without effort.
"You can never have enough cats!" Reem grinned. "Right, Sham’a?” She did a small shrug to rouse her apparently either shy or merely cautious OP-AI. The latter shrunk back with suspicion. "It's okay, silly!" Reem coaxed her. "They're the ones who saved my furry butt, remember?" she gestured with a smile. Cullman and Fenrir both tilted their heads, in the same manner, brows hiking as they furrowed. Seeing their faces Reem quickly added "You know, it's not really furry, come on!" she almost blushed, despite her deadpan face.
"Sham’a." Fenrir repeated as he did a quick search, looking up the name and at the bearer of it. "Arabic, meaning lamp or candle.”
Reem giggled. ”Yeah. My parents got her for me when I was little. They thought an AI-friend could help me sleep, because I was scared of the dark.” she let out a slight snort and rolled her eyes. ”You’d think Feli could, like, see in the dark!” she said, only half-jokingly. ”Anyway...she didn’t have a name yet, but from our first night together, she’d always keep her lights on besides my bed, like a little, dim night-lamp. So, it was a no-brainer. Wow, I can’t believe it’s been over 10 years, already.” it occurred to her. Fenrir seemed to be mulling her answer over. “Speaking of years, have you guys heard?” Fenrir raised his head from his thoughts and Cullman slightly tilted his head from one side to the other.
“Since the whole Fabric-crash and…casualties on the field…the number of people who wanna be Reapers is, like, way up! A lot of them don’t even wanna wait for basic training or even to come of age! Can you believe it!? They just wanna go out and fight.” she said, with sudden and due trepidation.
“Getting incensed like that may be good for morale, but not if they run off half-prepared.” Cullman critiqued their zeal. “Filling an early grave won't win us a war, much less this planet.”
“Yeah.” Reem agreed, lowering her gaze.
“CULLMAN!!!” he saw appear, with a small sound, in his field of vision from the Fabric.
“Sorry,” Reem looked up at him. “I’m gonna be late for a Council meeting.” he glanced towards the building.
“Wow, she’s bossy.” Reem almost whistled.
“Well, she is a boss.” Cullman referred to her position.
“I’d tell you to have fun, but, I kinda doubt Council meetings are ever fun.” Reem muttered the last part.
“One of these days.” Cullman said with curbed optimism.
With Cullman off to the side, Carmen was standing in front of the Lieges, ready to report, when Jim Santiago noiselessly entered the chamber and without any effort to muster an apology, dragged himself over to stand next to Cullman. Stand was putting it generously, as the signs of exhaustion were obvious on him. Cullman kept the same observation to himself, for the moment. Some members of the Council took a concerned glance at Santiago and knew nothing short of imprisonment, even without probable cause, would stop him from going out to keep searching for his missing wife. Carmen turned back towards them and cleared her throat.
"If I may begin..." she impatiently spoke.
"Go ahead." Ark Liege Garrack gave her the floor, much less bothered by Carmen’s borderline irreverence towards the bureaucracy than most of the other Ark Lieges.
"Right. My report will be brief, but in no way does it reflect its significance." Carmen prefaced her speech. "As you know, our enemy showed they were capable of understanding us and our technology enough, in a relatively short time, to use the Fabric itself to spy on our communications and position their forces accordingly. After we've shut it down, rather than merely restoring the system, replacing it with an upgraded version was nothing that would even warrant me coming here." Carmen cared not for the few frowns here phrasing earned. "However," she adjusted her glasses. "With the new version, we also restarted the old one and 'kept' it running, for the past few days." Alarmed faces turned towards one another and there came a cacophony of angry and confused whispers and louder inquiries for Carmen to clarify her apparent hubris and self-indulgent experimentation, as they were quick to label her actions, albeit not without reason.
"'Why'?" From Ark Liege Garrack the one word came as a heavy sigh, her face silently probing and pleading with Carmen to, please, have a good reason, at least, aside from scientific curiosity.
"Why, to use their own tactic against them, of course." Carmen's wicked grin fast settled back into an enigmatic slight curve of a smile, as she contained her enjoyment of making them sweat. "We left the old system online to give the impression we simply restored it and that we were either unaware of their intrusion or that we believe we have dealt with it, thinking it was safe to keep using it. But, we feed it false or non-critical information, and carefully screen then upload chatter that's mundane enough to only give them a few more words to learn and nothing of our forces and tactics or even our culture or habits. And the channel works both ways. So, in return, in just these few days, we have managed to gain a rudimentary understanding of their language. Not nearly as much as they have managed to learn of ours, to be honest." she said with some disappointment, having expected better and faster acquisition and understanding of data. "They're not a wordy bunch." Carmen folded her arms. "They're more into...singing. And it was, therefore, not a great deal we could pick up. Fortunately...or unfortunately, for some, we've also isolated a few words, in there, which definitely could not have been their own. Words such as...'husband'," Santiago's eyes flashed as though an invisible lighting struck him with new life and Carmen turned halfway to him. "Even names, like 'Jim.'" she said and faced the Council, who wore similar expressions. "They have shown more than enough intelligence, already, to know 'those' are not meaningless sounds someone would just say or...think on a whim." The Ark Lieges exchanged fearful, but also hopeful glances, as Santiago attempted to step forward, but a firm hand from Cullman, on his shoulder, stopped him. The latter's face told him to take it in strides, not leaps.
"What's more..." Carmen continued. "It was also enough to finally put a name to these creatures." All heads rose. "The spelling is still a work in progress," Carmen waved it off. "But, from their own mouths, it sounds like they refer to themselves as the "tzi-hoo" or maybe it's purely a "z" sound." she kept gesturing. "We're still sampling their speech." she excused the imprecision and refolded her arms. But, now, at least, we know the name of the enemy. Of course, with more study, we can do a lot more than just wait until they wise up to our ruse."
"We can take the fight to them." The strange tone in Ark Liege Garrack's voice was the excitement of a First Claimer being tempered by the experience of one, about the consequences of unintentionally incurring the wrath of an unknown power. And now, they will be poking an unknown hornet's nest, on purpose.
"More effectively, at any rate." Carmen refined Garrack's words on their situation and their intent, holding no illusions about even odds, let alone ones entirely in their favor.
"My Lieges!" Santiago carefully came forward, barely keeping the staggering from his steps. Before he could say another word Ark Liege Alscher's wizened, but firm voice reached him.
"As soon as we receive useful intelligence on the status and possible whereabouts of Vena 'you' will be the first among those who will be sent to act on it." His tone changed from authoritative to empathetic, his face softening. "'Rest, Jim!" he needed him to. They all needed him to. Santiago, despite every fiber of his being screaming to go and despite how everyone else expected him to react, looked to the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut, trembling, as hope began to fill him, as fuel, rather than desperation. His blind rage, the red he saw and the ghost he has been chasing all blurred together, taking on a clearer, familiar form in front of him. He felt both enlivened and yet weak. Cullman's hand, still on his shoulder, was now steadying him and looking at him, they shared a nod. Ark Liege Alscher directed his next words towards Carmen.
"Keep us appraised of any development." She always did, but Carmen gave a slight nod to the formal order. Alscher's steel-gray gaze lifted to Cullman and Santiago. "Those of you on the clock," he singled out Cullman. "Prepare to be mobilized on a moment's notice." They always were and Cullman nodded an affirmative.
"Is there anything else?" Ark Liege Garrack asked Carmen, for it was shaping up to be a brief, but eventful session. Their day was already made.
"Oh, a few things." Carmen answered with an almost sweet - were she capable - nonchalance. Her tone told them quite a few.
Garrack and many of the Ark Lieges collectively sighed.
Author's Note: Okay, so all of this, I figure, has to take place before all the battles in my other character Chaser Sword's journal entries. They haven't established a large enough foothold and they haven't encountered any Category 3 and 4 Kaijus, either, yet. All of that comes sometime after these short stories. Though us player characters could drop in either between these events or after the first real base defense. It would be more interesting if we'd join before that and we, as the players, along with the NPCs of the story, would get to experience our first invasion event, and all the new types of enemies it would bring, TOGETHER. Which would kinda render my character's journal entries somewhat pointless, but they could still serve late-comers, as well as those who'll be there at the start, as collectible bits of lore.
Story #6
The Name of the Enemy
The Name of the Enemy
A melodious ebb and flow of synthwave and lute lilted from speakers synched to the broadcasting frequency of Club Cithaeron's own radio station, filling the communal UV-lit solarium in the center of a block of connected modular metal flats, one of hundreds, inhabited by the clanless, some of who were currently congregating in its multi-tiered garden. The smell of roasting meat wafted in wide wisps from the open kitchen and canteen, at the bottom, until it was sucked in by the ventilation system, on top, never reaching the holo-emitters of the ceiling that projected the hope of an actual sky and daylight. A convincing illusion which only ever fooled anyone until their first grade in school when it was all inevitably and unapologetically shattered; the sooner the easier it was to begrudgingly accept reality. The two dozen or so people, scattered around, plus a few of their OP-AIs, were more colorful than the plain flowers they were allowed to grow from the row of wall-mounted boxes just below the edge of every balcony, as the handrails some were leaning on were bare, with no one having any inclination to decorate them.
At ground level, relatively, a few Reapers were still dining and commiserating, some with their newly restored OP-AIs, who have been saved from their fragmented prison by the up and running new version of the Fabric, which was reinforced with what little knowledge they possessed of the alien enemy. Here was Chase Cullman, Fiadh O'Deorain, and Dylan Morgan. The latter was merrily murmuring sweet nothings to his OP-AI, Glenda, who had the visage of a rather robust, yet still timid-looking, long-haired brunette, her projected attire a mix between a bar wench and a viking, her mandatory cleavage tastefully unobstructed by a breast-plate and nothing else. Fiadh's had the appearance of a nearly nude perfection of a man, with fairy-wings, which he could flutter as fast as his eye-lashes, as well as women's hearts, and was half her size, complete with a tyrian shoulder-cape and a perhaps surprisingly unostentatious circlet on his head. Cullman, grabbing his tray, wordlessly rose from his spot across from them and so did Fenrir from the ground with him.
"Oh, and where're yew off t'h?" Morgan did not not notice, even in the middle of his gushing.
"Have an appointment in R&D." Cullman cared to divulge.
"Carmen, again, huh?" Fiadh leaned forward with a grin, as did her OP-AI Reagán.
"Ah-huh." Cullman's face did not change as he lazily snatched a piece of caramelized meat off the tray in front of her, getting due protest by the way of a 'Hey!'
"If y' see Jim, give 'im a swift kick in the arse this way, eh!" Morgan told him and Cullman turned back to give a slightly foreboding nod, before he made his way to dispose of his dura-plastic tray and cutlery.
"I'll go see if I can have some of this put away for him." Fiadh picked up her own to go to the kitchen. She was nearly run over by a couple of laughing children being chased by the sprites of their OP-AIs.
...
One brief commute arced from their district to the facilities of Research and Development with its own layers of defense and admission and a row of predictably longer security check later Cullman got through all he had to, before he could step inside the deceptively not at all chaotic workspace of the department's head, whose domain appeared as such only in the physical realm to the naked eye. With her left hand Carmen was hand-drawing annotation, with the other, she was searching and cross-referencing data on a holographic display curved around her and above a table, occasionally using a common magnification filter to take glances at the bits and pieces of alien tech organized in an amphitheater-like semicircle in front of her. Behind her, a table in the middle was also arrayed with even more parts from slain specimen and a bright holographic orb, sporting a pair of feline ears, was floating from one to another, flashing almost frantically.
Cullman and Fenrir ventured further inside and up to the central-display, where Fenrir got on his hind-legs to peek more closely at the table's contents. The orb darted in his face with a yell. "Paws off flee-bag!" came a hiss and Fenrir backed down as an OP-AI in the likeness of a Feli, dressed as a scantily-clad soldier in battle-armor and a lab coat of a sort, revealed herself, kneeling on top of the table, hands propped on the edge, tail swaying as she pinned Fenrir with a glare. She looked up and, seeing Cullman, her tail stopped, she composed herself, rolling off the table to lean against it. She folded her arms.
"Chaaase." She meowed with seemingly feigned disinterest, stretching his single syllable name. She flipped her shoulder-length lilac locks with a hand and placed both on the table.
"Adelita." Cullman greeted her.
"Long time no see." she started small talk, rather immediately. "I missed you every time you were here the last few weeks."
"Been busy, I take it." Cullman went along. Adelita made a sound that was half a sigh, half her almost coughing up a hairball and nodded behind her.
"This slave-driver has me do lab-work all day, like a machine!" she moaned, with unintentional, but unavoidable irony. "Always aggregating and correlating and calculating! She has no idea what else a woman might," Her eyes flicked over Cullman. "Need in her life." she unabashedly said. Fenrir tilted his head, but Cullman seemed unfazed by her forwardness, though not oblivious to it. She thumbed at herself. "I'm more alive than she is!" she said, over the shoulder, to Carmen, who paused to shoot her a glare, willing herself to not dignify her remark with anything more.
"No comment." Cullman chose, smartly, to do the same.
"Not if you value the safety of your privates." Adelita chuckled, eyeing him up, then suggestively added, "I do. And I haven't even seen them, yet." Two fists slammed down on the table behind them and they looked to see Carmen, her jaw clenched, eyes ready shoot a whole flurry of daggers in both of them. Adelita regarded her with a sly look and whispered to Cullman. "If they could weaponize that face, those aliens wouldn't come near us." Carmen's glasses could have cracked and exploded into shards, like a blast from a shotgun, in their direction.
"You have something?" Cullman unblinkingly asked. Carmen half-lid him, slowly exhaled.
"I have something for the Council,” she turned to face them. ”But you'll want to hear it, as well. We're leaving in five minutes." Carmen declared, saying as much as she deemed enough.
"She's sooo bossy, right?" Adelita was fishing for an agreement from Cullman, who did not take the bait. Carmen stopped in her walk at her side and rounded on her.
"Continue with the data!" she either hissed or barked, none present could rightly tell, but (name) could, at least, feel mildly vindicated, and her excitement over it came in a dismayed groan. "Meet me outside!" came the second order, to Cullman, as the doors opened and shut behind her. He and Fenrir turned back to see Adelita actually crawling on the table, shifting and wiggling, as she half-heartedly moved from sample to sample. She could somehow feel their eyes on herself and confirmed with a slight blush they were indeed looking. Without a word or sound she rolled herself back up into a ball and carried on, her playful mood having lasted only but a minute. Without anything else to say, the doors closed behind Cullman and Fenrir, as well.
"It is strange." Fenrir spoke, as they headed back out of the facility.
"Hm?" Cullman glanced down, prompting him.
"A Reaper usually imprints traits of their personality onto their OP-AI. This is often mutual." Fenrir described.
"And those two seem wildly different, don't they?" Cullman followed, with a slight smile.
"Indeed." Fenrir said.
"So, what do you think?" Cullman was curious to hear his reasoning.
"There are several possible answers." Fenrir started, as they passed a check-point.
"Pick one." Cullman challenged somewhat. Fenrir paused to look up at him, then, caught up to him.
"Very well." he agreed. "Considering how personalities can change, depending on experience from external factors, also the speed at which us OP-AI are able to learn and grow, it is likely Adelita was not the one who has changed, over time. The possibly inspiration of her name and the fact Carmen herself used to work on the field, would suggest a more...tumultuous...past. Adelita must have retained much of the personality that was originally imprinted on her by Carmen, in the early years of their companionship, and she prefers to keep it, meaning Carmen...may have been a different person, decades ago." Fenrir concluded.
"She definitely was." Cullman actually recalled, having some memories of what some of the other Reapers used to be like, which made Fenrir briefly stop, again, as he realized Cullman knew the answer all along and was simply testing him.
...
At the foot of the Council’s chambers, as all such places had to be symbolically elevated above the rest, even on a space-station, Carmen stalked ahead of Cullman and Fenrir, languidly taking the steps, one at time, in a way that emphasized her mood, amongst 'other' things about her, to which Fenrir was still oblivious to and Cullman was politely not appreciating in any obvious way. Both halted as the former heard his first name, in a high-pitched voice, coming from the direction of the adjacent Archives. Turning their heads at the same time, they saw Reem Rafiq literally bouncing down the slightly sloping set of stairs. No one could have failed to notice the large wolf and her excitement grow to match it.
"Hey! You must be Fenrir!" she exclaimed, recalling their brief exchange through the Archives' consoles.
"Correct. Greeting, Reem Rafiq! I assume you have concluded your visitation of your mother." Fenrir said and Reem was only momentarily surprised, but understood how he would know, after their last exchange.
"Correct!" she beamed at him and a normal-sized, teal cat flickered into existence, clinging to her left shoulder to peer at the unfamiliar faces. The color was not actually unusual in real cats, either, anymore.
"We're seeing an abundance of felines, today." Chase commented convivially, as he was actually fond of cats, though some, of the holographic sort, would have proved to be even less considerate of things such as decency or one's personal space than actual ones, and they could have easily crossed either of those boundaries without effort.
"You can never have enough cats!" Reem grinned. "Right, Sham’a?” She did a small shrug to rouse her apparently either shy or merely cautious OP-AI. The latter shrunk back with suspicion. "It's okay, silly!" Reem coaxed her. "They're the ones who saved my furry butt, remember?" she gestured with a smile. Cullman and Fenrir both tilted their heads, in the same manner, brows hiking as they furrowed. Seeing their faces Reem quickly added "You know, it's not really furry, come on!" she almost blushed, despite her deadpan face.
"Sham’a." Fenrir repeated as he did a quick search, looking up the name and at the bearer of it. "Arabic, meaning lamp or candle.”
Reem giggled. ”Yeah. My parents got her for me when I was little. They thought an AI-friend could help me sleep, because I was scared of the dark.” she let out a slight snort and rolled her eyes. ”You’d think Feli could, like, see in the dark!” she said, only half-jokingly. ”Anyway...she didn’t have a name yet, but from our first night together, she’d always keep her lights on besides my bed, like a little, dim night-lamp. So, it was a no-brainer. Wow, I can’t believe it’s been over 10 years, already.” it occurred to her. Fenrir seemed to be mulling her answer over. “Speaking of years, have you guys heard?” Fenrir raised his head from his thoughts and Cullman slightly tilted his head from one side to the other.
“Since the whole Fabric-crash and…casualties on the field…the number of people who wanna be Reapers is, like, way up! A lot of them don’t even wanna wait for basic training or even to come of age! Can you believe it!? They just wanna go out and fight.” she said, with sudden and due trepidation.
“Getting incensed like that may be good for morale, but not if they run off half-prepared.” Cullman critiqued their zeal. “Filling an early grave won't win us a war, much less this planet.”
“Yeah.” Reem agreed, lowering her gaze.
“CULLMAN!!!” he saw appear, with a small sound, in his field of vision from the Fabric.
“Sorry,” Reem looked up at him. “I’m gonna be late for a Council meeting.” he glanced towards the building.
“Wow, she’s bossy.” Reem almost whistled.
“Well, she is a boss.” Cullman referred to her position.
“I’d tell you to have fun, but, I kinda doubt Council meetings are ever fun.” Reem muttered the last part.
“One of these days.” Cullman said with curbed optimism.
…
With Cullman off to the side, Carmen was standing in front of the Lieges, ready to report, when Jim Santiago noiselessly entered the chamber and without any effort to muster an apology, dragged himself over to stand next to Cullman. Stand was putting it generously, as the signs of exhaustion were obvious on him. Cullman kept the same observation to himself, for the moment. Some members of the Council took a concerned glance at Santiago and knew nothing short of imprisonment, even without probable cause, would stop him from going out to keep searching for his missing wife. Carmen turned back towards them and cleared her throat.
"If I may begin..." she impatiently spoke.
"Go ahead." Ark Liege Garrack gave her the floor, much less bothered by Carmen’s borderline irreverence towards the bureaucracy than most of the other Ark Lieges.
"Right. My report will be brief, but in no way does it reflect its significance." Carmen prefaced her speech. "As you know, our enemy showed they were capable of understanding us and our technology enough, in a relatively short time, to use the Fabric itself to spy on our communications and position their forces accordingly. After we've shut it down, rather than merely restoring the system, replacing it with an upgraded version was nothing that would even warrant me coming here." Carmen cared not for the few frowns here phrasing earned. "However," she adjusted her glasses. "With the new version, we also restarted the old one and 'kept' it running, for the past few days." Alarmed faces turned towards one another and there came a cacophony of angry and confused whispers and louder inquiries for Carmen to clarify her apparent hubris and self-indulgent experimentation, as they were quick to label her actions, albeit not without reason.
"'Why'?" From Ark Liege Garrack the one word came as a heavy sigh, her face silently probing and pleading with Carmen to, please, have a good reason, at least, aside from scientific curiosity.
"Why, to use their own tactic against them, of course." Carmen's wicked grin fast settled back into an enigmatic slight curve of a smile, as she contained her enjoyment of making them sweat. "We left the old system online to give the impression we simply restored it and that we were either unaware of their intrusion or that we believe we have dealt with it, thinking it was safe to keep using it. But, we feed it false or non-critical information, and carefully screen then upload chatter that's mundane enough to only give them a few more words to learn and nothing of our forces and tactics or even our culture or habits. And the channel works both ways. So, in return, in just these few days, we have managed to gain a rudimentary understanding of their language. Not nearly as much as they have managed to learn of ours, to be honest." she said with some disappointment, having expected better and faster acquisition and understanding of data. "They're not a wordy bunch." Carmen folded her arms. "They're more into...singing. And it was, therefore, not a great deal we could pick up. Fortunately...or unfortunately, for some, we've also isolated a few words, in there, which definitely could not have been their own. Words such as...'husband'," Santiago's eyes flashed as though an invisible lighting struck him with new life and Carmen turned halfway to him. "Even names, like 'Jim.'" she said and faced the Council, who wore similar expressions. "They have shown more than enough intelligence, already, to know 'those' are not meaningless sounds someone would just say or...think on a whim." The Ark Lieges exchanged fearful, but also hopeful glances, as Santiago attempted to step forward, but a firm hand from Cullman, on his shoulder, stopped him. The latter's face told him to take it in strides, not leaps.
"What's more..." Carmen continued. "It was also enough to finally put a name to these creatures." All heads rose. "The spelling is still a work in progress," Carmen waved it off. "But, from their own mouths, it sounds like they refer to themselves as the "tzi-hoo" or maybe it's purely a "z" sound." she kept gesturing. "We're still sampling their speech." she excused the imprecision and refolded her arms. But, now, at least, we know the name of the enemy. Of course, with more study, we can do a lot more than just wait until they wise up to our ruse."
"We can take the fight to them." The strange tone in Ark Liege Garrack's voice was the excitement of a First Claimer being tempered by the experience of one, about the consequences of unintentionally incurring the wrath of an unknown power. And now, they will be poking an unknown hornet's nest, on purpose.
"More effectively, at any rate." Carmen refined Garrack's words on their situation and their intent, holding no illusions about even odds, let alone ones entirely in their favor.
"My Lieges!" Santiago carefully came forward, barely keeping the staggering from his steps. Before he could say another word Ark Liege Alscher's wizened, but firm voice reached him.
"As soon as we receive useful intelligence on the status and possible whereabouts of Vena 'you' will be the first among those who will be sent to act on it." His tone changed from authoritative to empathetic, his face softening. "'Rest, Jim!" he needed him to. They all needed him to. Santiago, despite every fiber of his being screaming to go and despite how everyone else expected him to react, looked to the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut, trembling, as hope began to fill him, as fuel, rather than desperation. His blind rage, the red he saw and the ghost he has been chasing all blurred together, taking on a clearer, familiar form in front of him. He felt both enlivened and yet weak. Cullman's hand, still on his shoulder, was now steadying him and looking at him, they shared a nod. Ark Liege Alscher directed his next words towards Carmen.
"Keep us appraised of any development." She always did, but Carmen gave a slight nod to the formal order. Alscher's steel-gray gaze lifted to Cullman and Santiago. "Those of you on the clock," he singled out Cullman. "Prepare to be mobilized on a moment's notice." They always were and Cullman nodded an affirmative.
"Is there anything else?" Ark Liege Garrack asked Carmen, for it was shaping up to be a brief, but eventful session. Their day was already made.
"Oh, a few things." Carmen answered with an almost sweet - were she capable - nonchalance. Her tone told them quite a few.
Garrack and many of the Ark Lieges collectively sighed.
THE END
For now.
For now.
Author's Note: Okay, so all of this, I figure, has to take place before all the battles in my other character Chaser Sword's journal entries. They haven't established a large enough foothold and they haven't encountered any Category 3 and 4 Kaijus, either, yet. All of that comes sometime after these short stories. Though us player characters could drop in either between these events or after the first real base defense. It would be more interesting if we'd join before that and we, as the players, along with the NPCs of the story, would get to experience our first invasion event, and all the new types of enemies it would bring, TOGETHER. Which would kinda render my character's journal entries somewhat pointless, but they could still serve late-comers, as well as those who'll be there at the start, as collectible bits of lore.
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