trans_9 | Welcome to Orongo

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Welcome to Orongo

Once those who decided to go along on the mission were gathered on the Obs Deck and had time to go over the mission briefing, the detachment procedures began.

As with the missions before, the doors to the Obs Deck closed before it detached itself from Stacy, tethered by a massive umbilical cord. Those who had been on missions before would find the experience familiar if still somewhat unpleasant, but for those of whom this was their first mission, the sudden lack of gravity and lurching feeling as they entered the atmosphere would come as a surprise.

Thankfully though, the ride was quickly over as they landed safely on the planet below, the gravitational dampeners of the Obs Deck gently dropping the crew members back on their feet. One of the walls opened up, forming a ramp to the ground below. There was a sudden, slight gust of air as the door opened as the thick air rushed in. Even so, the air felt quite warm and refreshing.

Looking outside, the crew would see the bright yellow sun looming overhead, quite close in comparison to the sun on most planets. A handful of small, silver clouds dotted the blueish purple sky.

Ahead of them stood a rather impressive looking plateau, surrounded by a tall, ornate stone wall which was covered in tribal markings. Directly ahead was a large gate through the wall, with several small stone buildings in front of it. Beyond the gates, a larger settlement could be seen. Surrounding the plateau and covering the surrounding region were numerous strange, blue and purplish trees and plants.

~~[ooc: hold up until subthreads are set up]~~

[ooc2: ready! feel free to tag!]

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"Ethics are our value add in the unstructured conflict environment," she explained, sounding exactly like a commercial. "Troops who know we won't enslave them won't fight to the death - they'd rather surrender and be passed through the lines. And we recruit heavily from other mercenary groups, so we get top-of-the-line strategic and espionage information. Calling us in changes the outlook of any combat considerably."

"Loss of life is always to be mourned. Now more than ever. It sounds like they took care in the creation of their employees, though."

"I am - not certain exactly how the Divine Threads are attached to people. It has something to do with our stories being told across time and space. And while plenty of people tell stories of warriors, there aren't a lot of stories about programmers. And apparently not enough about doctors either. Perhaps we should start a writing club, and try to generate fresh Threads to pull people here."

"A very practical outlook," Zouichi agreed. "Although I must admit, this is the first time ethics has ever been presented to me as a matter of efficiency."

"We were taught to expect high levels of human casualties, given the state of affairs on Earth, but I... admit I had never entertained the possibility of that particular event. Some of the scientists there clearly thought of us as more as products than as individuals, but Toha dedicated large amounts of resources to ensuring that we were properly raised and outfitted."

Zouichi smiled. "Yes, our teacher told us similar stories at times, and I don't believe any of them were about engineers or medical personnel."

"Ethical soldiers are more efficient. The soldiers who switch from civility to cruelty, depending if they face friends or foes, are always at risk of being corrupted by power over others. Better to have the same code for everyone. And as well, we give our oaths to the Swift Death of Eight Wings," she touched the fingertips of both hands to her forehead, "and we would not risk Her disdain."

Anwei shook her head slowly. "Who could imagine that an entire universe could be unraveled? Even if it could be comprehended, how would it be known? With its destruction would go all records of its existence - except for refugees like us. It would just be - gone."

"On the other hand, there does seem to be some selection on hand - but I can't quite figure out the pattern. And the records of who is here and who is not, and who is re-podded, all seem very hard to keep track of."

"I'm sorry? The Swift Death of Eight Wings?"

Zouichi sighed. "It certainly wasn't on our list of concerns. But I suppose that's why we're here; to prevent it from happening elsewhere, and creating additional refugees."

"If you ever do figure out the pattern, I'd be interested to know. I don't fully understand the process of repodding, either. Someone mentioned that it was to prevent the process of a crew member's soul detaching from their body; sounds pretty unsettling."

"Yes, we're devout mercenaries as well." Her voice fell into a rhythm, as though she had told this story many times, and a slight smile flickered on her face as she spoke.

"Each world has its own death and its own gods, and though the gods try to follow Their children through all of time and space, sometimes They fail. And when those children die, it is a grief beyond all comprehension, because the soul is trapped in this world, to slowly rot and decay, their immutable essence that could go on forever fading like ice in the sun."

"And I've seen that," she interrupted her own story. "Graveyards on alien worlds, and ghosts trapped by their graves. People taunt them sometimes, and it is a cruel thing."

Her eyes flickered back to the sky, and her voice took on a cadence again. "But the Swift Death of Eight Wings gives us a promise in exchange for our oaths: that no matter where and when we die, in atmosphere or in space or in places unknown and unknowable, She will come and find us, She will take us up and carry us back to the home of our gods. She is the god of far travellers, of mercenaries and pilgrims and explorers, and those who keep their oath have never seen Her falter." She pressed eight fingertips to her forehead again, arching above her brow like wings.

"I only hope that we can stop. That we can track what is happening, cut them off before they begin their attack. Or find some way to negate what they have done - even if it means negating them as well."

Anwei remembered the Bleed boiling outside Stacy's windows. "I've heard that staying too long in the Bleed causes damage of a sort, but I've never heard of a ship staying in the Bleed permanently, the way Stacy seems to."

Zouichi wasn't raised in a religious background, nor did religion really figure into combat. But it was clearly important to Anwei, so he nodded. "She sounds like a deity of her word, then. I can think of worse things to devote yourself to."

"I believe it would help if we knew more about them and their purpose. I've heard a few different ideas about how to stop them, but no one so far seems to have anything really concrete."

Zouichi blinked. "The Bleed? Is that the phenomenon displayed outside of the ship?"

"She lets you worship whatever other gods you please. She only asks that you try and live a long and interesting life, so that She can talk to you about it on your journey home."

Anwei tapped her fingertips together in front of her. "Transdimensional information is difficult to assess under the best of circumstances. With the distortions thrown in by the destruction of dimensions, it may be impossible to get clear information except from the Ohm themselves. And I don't know enough about their social structure to even know who to ask - it may be that their ships are sent out with one order, Destroy, and they carry it out without any further input. We might need to find an Ohm planet to get what we need."

She swirled her hands in the air, imitating the boiling lights through Stacy's windows. "Yes. It's supposed to be what lies between the dimensions, the chaos between the Walls of the Worlds, but...remember, I'm usually sitting behind a computer and not looking out the window on a Fleet ship, but it's - wrong. Too fast-moving, not red enough, or not fast-moving enough, or something. I can't explain, it's just wrong, and I don't know why."

"If the Ohm have a planet, I suppose," Zouichi said. "What if they make their home in the Bleed, or something similar?"

"Hmm. I've never seen it before, so I can't help you determine what's wrong with it. But if it's detrimental to our health to remain in the Bleed, why do we stay for long periods of time?"

"We just need to find a leader, a strategist, a giver-of-orders who knows why they are doing what they are doing. They could be on a planet, or in the Bleed, or parked in some other dimension, but that's who we need to get information from. Somehow." She thought of drop missions, physically hooking a crack box into enemy hardware to get at the AI's inside, but an organic ship was an entirely different proposition.

"There could be any number of reasons. To hide us from the Ohm. To hide us from people who could tell us what is really going on. To protect Stacy from cyberattack - she may be particularly vulnerable right now. Or - dear me, that's a nasty thought. What if the Ohm can detect the Threads, and they're all pointing right at us and at Stacy? Although if that were the case," she gestured to the wide plateau dotted with multicolored trees, and the laughing aliens strolling about, "you'd think she would tell us to get in here, get the map, and get out."

"Assuming, of course, that there is a leader or strategist, and the Ohm don't operate as a cloud intelligence." In which case you might as well look for the one neuron in a brain that's in charge of all the others; a complete fool's errand.

Zouichi sighed. "What everything seems to come back to is our lack of information. I appreciate that some missions must take part in secrecy, due to sensitivity of information or lack of it, but I sincerely hope it's the latter and not the former."

She thought for a moment, her eyes rolling outwards and then back. "For a cloud intelligence I see two methods of attack for starters: either cut the attack units off from the cloud (and hope that they don't have enough local intelligence to keep going) or - and I have no idea how to do this - construct something that could tap into the cloud and extract data, or even send back false data."

"And we need to find a way to keep the information isolated, so that it doesn't get tampered with. At the very worst, if we are all lost and Stacy starts over with another crew, I would want to leave behind some record of what we did and what we learned, so that they don't have to start over from scratch."

"Well, I guess if worst comes to worst, attacking swarms is my forte." Minor understatement; before coming here, it's pretty much all he ever did.

He considered Anwei's words. "In other words, we're expendable." For the first time since he could remember, Zouichi found himself wondering what it would be like to simply throw up your hands and give up. It wasn't what he was designed for, trained for, and it certainly wasn't in his nature to do so.

But on the other hand, he'd never been in the situation where his superiors were banking on him failing. That was just plain demoralizing.

"This might be more subtle than an attack. More like stealth penetration and mimicry. Getting into the swarm, becoming a part of it, then extracting yourself without raising the alarm."

She twitched at his next words. "Don't say that." Impulsively she stepped forward and touched one finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. "Don't defeat yourself with your own thoughts. No matter what, we are not expendable. We will go on, we will fight, and if we pass on we will leave behind a testament of what we did that will live when we do not."

Did Zouichi looked surprised by that action? Because he was. Really surprised. He essentially froze up for a second or two, dark eyes wide, before the thought occurred to him that this could be a completely normal gesture for Anwei.

"Um. Thanks for the confidence," he managed to say.

Anwei was a very tactile person - she was used to touching as part of talking. She noticed Zouichi's pause but hoped it was because he was absorbing her words.

"We need everything we can get here, Zouichi. Confidence, pride, strength, honor, defiance. Everything and everyone."

He relaxed again at her tone of voice, which remained normal and conversational. "Yes, I suppose you're right. No point in dwelling on what might happen."

"No matter what happens, we will go on - we, or our stories. Or both."

She stretched her neck, looking over the plateau and Stacy's crew around them. "Think we should go see what these rituals are all about?"

He smiled. "Certainly."

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