The other half-

[Geoffacake]

Quietly in the decks of "The-Zealous". Everyone is sleeping in the quarters of the ship, crew and commanders alike. Deck 7, large and luxurious, a large bed made for two, holds only one, rustling sleeping soldier, tossing and turning.

"Mphmm... Nhhh!"

Waking up so suddenly, seeming to be under distress. He move his feet, hanging off the side of the bed and him sitting upright, rubbing his face with his hands. He moves off only in some sleeping trousers to the main room, another luxurious sector, with a full supplement of a normal upper class household. He peeks his head around the archway... observing the empty room.

"Zeal?.... Hon'?"

He moves off through the room, looking around at every part... He gives a slight puff, not of worry. Moving off though the ship, only with his trousers he passing through the ships corridors.

"Where could she be....?" He continues though the ship, passing a patrol guard. "Sir!" The guard gives a quick salute. "Oh Tristar... Sorry, i've not slept well..." "Oh, sorry to hear that S-" "Don't call me sir, please... Hey, you seen 'Zeal'?" "The Holog-" "Yes the Hologram" "No, her ship hasn't reported, the Epsilon is still out." "Oh, i expected her back from Delta at least an hour ago from now..."

He walks back to his quarters though the living room... straight back to his sleeping quarters. He starts to brew himself a coffee before opening up a holo-terminal at a desk. Raising an eyebrow at the instant pop-up as he sips on his coffee.

[NEW MESSAGE RECEIVED: STREAM LINKED TRANSMISSION]

Goosebumps and recognizable fear crawls over his skin, his metal hand that grips the coffee mug slips, letting it fall and smash across the metal floor. His elbows follow, placing them on the desk, his head being hung by its hair by the hands the pull and grip on them. heavy stuttered breathing followed by the constant shivering and sobbing.

---

[Geoffacake]

Observation deck, large glass windows cover the walls, looking out to the a green nebula, still a lone figure stands, staring out in the distance, coffee in hand, his eyes have heavy lines, his movements sometimes jitter and shake. His tone of voice is low and deep, tried and exhausted.
"Epsilon... My other half... Stolen from me, from my carelessness..." He takes a small sip of his coffee while his hands shake as he tries to bring it to his mouth. "My mistake was trying to give you the adventure of being yourself... Being your own to soon, i see you're not ready to part... Not yet." Looking out the window, two vessels approach, towing a wrecked bomber behind them, they proceed to the docking bays. He turns around, putting the coffee aside on a table and lights a cigarette before leaving the Observation deck.

Proceeding though the turbo lift, he exits to a large hanger bay, teams are scanning the Warren bomber, salvaging parts and are stripping it of almost everything. "Special Agent." "Tristar... Anything?" "Blackbox records... and her chip." Tristar holds out the chip, giving it to Enfield. "Sorry, its... Its dead, we've scanned it..." "Its fine." He gives a slight puff on his cigarette, before taking the chip. Holding the cigarette in his mouth, he gets out a small neck chain and ties it up with the chip, wearing it around his neck. "Thanks... Pass me the black box data."