Guadalajara, Vespucci System. 834 A.S.
Aboard the ACV-Ixion...
A lost pearl amidst the expanse of the Independent Worlds, and once the crown jewel of the Commonwealth of House Liberty, Vespucci had remained an eerily quiet graveyard since the fall of the Insurgency. The scars of war run deep: Each of the battlefield wrecks stand as a testament to the folly of The Republic’s unchecked desire for control and the lengths they’d go to achieve it in its entirety.
History - rather, a peculiar chapter of it - had drawn the attention of the Auxesians. There were many questions about the past that needed answers. The ruins of the Commonwealth held many such answers, mainly as to the whereabouts of the evacuated civilians who had managed to make it off-world. The joint effort to turn every stone had drawn in a handful of remnants alongside the two peculiarly clad in opposite shades: one in white, and the looming figure of the other in black.
The Ixion, a Hel-Class cruiser that clearly had been chopped and modified to the fullest extent of the Technocracy’s capabilities, had been allotted by the Directorate as a command post for the expedition. The cruiser had settled itself into orbit over the stratosphere of the planet known to the Libertonian invaders as “Veracruz,” keeping tabs on the unstable storm formations and actively conducting rotating sensor sweeps for any leftover hazards from the Ohio battlegroup’s dirty deeds. The cruiser kept its signature to a minimum, while technocrat-modified Prosecutors wearing the mark of Leviathan’s serpents regularly ran patrols in an established perimeter. Trailing behind the light expeditionary force was the frigate Sardonyx, which carried the needed safety equipment for delving into the ruins of the settlements below.
The extent of the damage left in the wake of the war meant that necessary precautions had to be considered. The aptly nicknamed ‘Ying and Yang’ - Revenant and Leviathan - already had topographical charts and three-dimensional scans of a safe landing approach ready for display as they beckoned for the accompanying members of the Prometheus Mandate’s Task Force to ready themselves for a treacherous descent to the surface of the ever-silent Guadalajara. The time to plan was now.
“The weather guys just got back to me.” Speaking almost before they entered the room, Captain Charlie Alvarez of the Special Operations & Armed Reconnaissance Division of Task Force Prometheus held out their tablet. Their easy gait and loose posture contrasted sharply with the severity of their features, from buzz-cut brown hair to high cheekbones. “Blizzard is starting to abate. LZ should be clear at approximately 2315 local. That gives us about an hour to launch if we want to take this window. Let’s get this show on the road.” Striding past them to lean forward with both well-muscled arms on the table, Major Danielle Ricard - head of the Promethean marine contingent aboard - let out a long sigh. A classic meathead in appearance, she drummed impatiently on the table. “About damn time. Been twiddling our thumbs for what, three days? My troops are itching to move.”
“Will discipline be a problem, Major?” Following the pair in at a slower pace, Alvarez’s subordinate, one Lieutenant Harvey Charles, adjusted the cuff of his Auxesia-provided ground armor suit. Just as severe as his boss in appearance, yet for him, his crisp stride and attentive stance matched it. “I recognize all of our units are new, but-”
“Fuck no!” Ricard cut him off with a glare. “My troops are already suited up, stuffed in the Draugr, and ready to move.”
“Good.”
Alvarez glanced between the two for a moment, then let out a short, soft sigh. “Interdepartmental cohesion needs some work, though.” They joined Ricard at the table and stared at the two across from them. “So, let’s go over the briefing one more time. The surface base was destroyed with all Legionnaires KIA during the bombardment, but the Polar Deep Storage Vault is likely unaffected - it was a surface bombardment, since the Navy never did realize what that ‘small listening post’ was protecting. Still, the ground nearby is a mess, so we're in for a drive. We land two clicks out, wait for the supply drop from Sardonyx, and ride to the base. No resistance expected. Once inside, we find the vault, get Megiddo to crack it open, get the engram, and get out. Auxesia units select some data to extract and copy, but it goes through our classification screening process first. We head back to the LZ for exfil before the next storm blows in, stuff the engram in Megiddo, and it can tell you what you need to know about the squids. If we’re really lucky, we can do all of this without setting off any of Liberty’s spy satellites and retreat from the system without incident. Any questions? I miss anything?”
The enigmatic duo observed as the briefing unfolded before them, occasionally chattering amongst themselves. Leviathan cycled through the necessary material on the holo-display table for Alvarez, ensuring every piece of intel they had on hand was accurately representative of each point the Captain made. As the briefing came to a close, the towering machine figure stepped forward from his place at Revenant's side and cycled the imagery back to an overlay of the ruined city. In particular, the slide that highlighted the landing zone. Despite not having a need for it whatsoever, Leviathan audibly cleared his throat to get people's attention.
"I've taken the liberty of prepping a secondary ship that'll follow the Sardonyx down. A small team of half a dozen troopers will secure the LZ, establish a long-range relay and monitor weather developments while on the surface." He explained, cycling the slide forward to the mapped pathway.
"We'll monitor developments from here, with an emergency team in the event things get bad. The Ixion will continue to monitor the storm's development, and I'll keep coordinating patrols to check for and intercept any potential interlopers. There'll be a small gap that we'll briefly adjust position to cover for, while the Sardonyx moves to safety. Won't take long. Updates will be broadcast every fifteen minutes." He added, briefly adjusting his cloak. Leviathan turned and gestured towards the door.
"The teams are awaiting your go-ahead, Captain. Sentinel Pyke will be responsible for our marines and scientists on the ground. Consider him at your disposal."
Turning with a nod, Alvarez motioned to the other two to follow. “Right, then. Sounds like everyone’s on board figuratively, let’s make it literal. You’ve got half an hour to make sure you’re on the Draugr.” Immediately the room dispersed, leaving the two figures looming once more in the briefing room. Silence pervaded in the space left behind.
2320 Local
318 minutes left
An hour later, the Draugr shuddered as it struck the atmosphere of Planet Guadalajara. The whirring of fans kicked in as the coolant systems activated, storing excess reentry heat in ejection canisters to save its occupants from being cooked alive in the metal box. A harsh, nervous chatter filled the air as the marines tried to alleviate the tension, mixing together into an indecipherable mush of words. The freighter pierced through the gap in the clouds above the planet, slowing down as it passed above the site. Even from above at high speeds, the devastation left by the Ohio Battlegroup was clear. Duraplex windows revealed through the wake of superheated air a small base devastated by the bombardment, many of the ruins so thoroughly broken they amounted to little more than heaps of snow amongst the rubble.
There was little time to observe, however, before the base moved out of view. Dropping to landing speeds, the Draugr flared for touchdown, finally bleeding off the last of its speed before dropping into a relatively untouched clearing in the woods. Critters bolted in every direction at the intrusion of the landing craft, followed shortly by clouds of snow blasted away from the site by powerful engines. Peace was restored once touchdown was achieved and the engines silenced.
That peace was fleeting, however, for a moment later the door came open with a hiss. Marines poured forth, dressed in Auxesian polar armor and wielding Auxesian weapons, spreading out to encircle and secure the area. Ricard’s Legionnaires came first, by prior agreement, a symbolic first step upon their homeland, followed shortly by Pyke and his Auxesian troopers.
“Form up, full scan, prepare for the Sardonyx!” the Auxesian Sentinel barked. Already the frigate was descending, far more intimidating in its black-clad mechanical visage than the mundane Draugr below. The ring of marines had crunched what remained of the snow after their own landing into a thin sheet of ice, yet even that was immediately melted away by the heat of the much larger ship’s exhaust. This one, however, did not turn off its engines; rather, it idled as the cargo bay doors fell open. Modular containers rolled out of it, and instantly the crew followed, setting up a rapid-deployment forward operating base in minutes with the precise efficiency that comes only with relentless practice.
By the time the ground carriers - skid-and-track vehicles that looked for all the world like the child of a tank and snowmobile clad in angular black - exited the vessel, walls, communications equipment, and warming stations were already deployed, with automated turrets in the process of being unfolded. The operation proceeded at breakneck pace - already, the third landing craft hovered above, ready to take over the base once the first crop of marines moved out.
“Alright Legionnaires, let’s get in the van and hop to it!” Ricard shouted to her people over the whistling wind. The gesture was performative and largely pointless; each one had Auxesian communication technology built into their helmets, and already they were discussing approach vectors with the Technocrats.
Already Captain Alvarez and Lt. Charles were perched upon the center vehicle, preparing the extensive equipment carried for penetration into the vault as marines and scientists alike boarded the other two. “We would do to learn from the Auxesians, Charlie.” With the pair isolated - save their helmets - by the noise of the wind, the Lieutenant dropped his formalities, if only briefly. “Still, I’m worried. They’re sharp - can we really rely on this alliance to keep them away from the important stuff? We owe them too much.”
“Peace, Charles.” In contrast, the Captain kept with their subordinate’s surname, though perhaps out of some habitual joke on everyone else. “We will have plenty of opportunities to distract them. Keep the scientists focused on the engram and I’ll run interference - there should be enough to keep them from delving too deeply even if they do want to break the agreement.”
Charles frowned, though the change was not immediately obvious on the ever-stern lieutenant. “If you say so. Still…”
“Your concern is noted, Lieutenant.” Alvarez gave a quick jerk of their head behind Charles before greeting the approaching Auxesian. “Sentinel! How go the preparations?”
“We are ready, Legionnaire.” Cold. In sharp contrast to the brash Ricard, the ice around them would express more emotion than the Auxesian shock trooper.
“Good, good. Then let’s set off. Cold Storage may await, but this storm waits for no one.”
Gelu rubrum. Sometimes incorrectly called a snow dahlia by layfolk, this flower—native to Guadalajara’s northernmost reaches—is often remembered as one of the more striking features of the landscape there. As famous for their color as their startling habit of blooming only in the dead of the polar winter, these brilliant red blooms burst forth from snow drifts in the gaps between the constant blizzards. While the roots of the plant remain buried beneath the snow year-round, these feisty blossoms can emerge and bloom in under an hour, only to be annihilated or buried by the next passing storm.
In that brief window, the area comes alive not only with flora but fauna as well, and the scruffy-necked drari is one such creature. Between storms, these tiny, mouse-like creatures emerge from their nests beneath the snow to forage for nectar. The low-growing g. rubrum are a favorite treat, the delicious juice deep within specifically evolved to the drari’s tastes, and as the little creatures bury their face in the treat the newly-grown flower’s pollen sticks to their furry necks to be carried to another plant. This happens only rarely, but once in a blue moon is more than enough for the patient flower, as that single pollination can transform a bloom into a seedpod in record time. The petals close, a thin shell forms around them, and small seeds barely larger than snowflakes form within. When the winds once more whip through the area several hours later, the pods burst, casting the seeds into the tempest. Through this mechanism they are carried far and wide, and through it the flower has thrived across the taiga despite the harsh conditions.
One such pollination was just then in the process: A drari had its face buried deep within a flower, cheeks yellow with pollen as it slurped away in glee. In a moment, though, this idyllic scene, set against backdrop of pristine snowfall untouched save by the tiny critter’s paws, was instantly shattered. With the roar of an engine, flower and drari alike were crushed into the snow beneath the heavy tracks of the lead vehicle. The joint Promethean-Auxesian convoy rolled through a landscape that had not seen humans in years, hardy trees and red blooms passing on all sides in the sprint to the vault.
2357 Local
281 minutes left
“Two hundred meters.” The flat voice of Sentinel Pyke filled seventeen helmets. Each contingent of marines had their own vehicle, with the scientists and intelligence operatives riding aboard the larger center vessel with their equipment. “Gates are in sight.”
The ‘gates’ in question were now little more than frozen, snow-blasted pillars bracketing steel walls largely destroyed by the bombardment from above, illuminated in the polar night only by the high beams of the ground carriers. The blasted remains of large gun turrets loomed over them, dead sentinels for a dead outpost, destroyed by an enemy far out of reach of their once-lethal cannons. The landing party rushed through, piercing the outer perimeter. Inside, the devastation was, if anything, far worse. No recognizable buildings remained, only mounds of snow in the vaguest shape of the rubble beneath.
“Shit.” It was the first time Charles had heard his boss curse on duty since the Task Force’s formation. “I used to be stationed here. I thought it would be easy to find the PDSV, even as rubble. From above the building’s outline is obvious, but here every one of these buildings looks the same. Glad we marked it ahead of time.” The outpost was not large, and it took more time to consult their maps and ensure the navigational equipment had not led them astray than it did to actually arrive at the location.
“I did not know. I suppose that’s why the robot assigned us here. Can’t be many people left who know this place.”
“I barely do,” Alvarez responded. “It was my first assignment. I didn’t do much more than guard duty - they didn’t let me anywhere near the vault building. Still... ah well.”
It didn’t take long for the marines to secure the area, but the same could not be said of the scientists and their gear. Given the limited time, an L33 High Power Flamethrower had been issued to clear the snow, but it had been buried in the rush beneath the vault extraction equipment, and it took twenty precious minutes to unload everything. When all was said and done, a marine ended up taking flamethrower duties, melting away the snow into steam and near-boiling water that carved a small stream downhill away from the group.
Taking advantage of the time taken by the melting operation, the Auxesian science team set up their other equipment: A modular crane and drill designed to break through the rubble to access the vault, a smaller manipulation arm and flatbed rover to extract valuable physical artifacts, and what Ricard immediately dubbed a “supercomputer in a wagon”—a crude name indeed for the A45 Portable Archival Unit. The PAU itself was imbued with a touch of life, for this one currently played host to a Gammuan intelligence that had taken the name Beckley.
<:: Ready to begin. ::> Beckley’s chosen voice issued forth from the tinny speaker on the side of the PAU. It was soft and fairly human, masculine with a hint of the gravel and gravitas that its organic compatriots would earn only with age. <:: Please hurry. Even if you are ready to risk your own lives and knowledge for this archive, I will not suffer to be trapped here with your corpses and nothing to do for the next week if you delay too long. ::>
“Bravado suits you ill, Beckley.” Pyke, ever-terse, passed only a single comment on his way to operate the rubble removal crane. <:: Well, it’s better than talk of terror! ::>, Beckley called after him indignantly, but the Sentinel was already gone. <:: Hmph. ::>
“Well, I appreciate your efforts.” Alvarez stopped before the PAU and patted the machine, as if they thought the gesture would have any more effect on the Gammuan than to fill his microphone with the sound of clanking metal. It was met with more grumbling, but any further conversation was cut off by a deafening roar: The drill had started, and they were finally preparing to break into the vault.
The crane moved quickly, far more so than would be safe on an ordinary construction site, moving what pieces it could while the drill bored a hole in the collapsed roof of the building once housing the vault. They knew from planning and diagrams exactly where the entrance laid; no exploratory measures were needed, only a direct line to the door. It was disorienting work even standing nearby, the painful roar the main source of stimulation in the dark for those unequipped with Auxesian night vision, and it took the better part of half an hour, but eventually the roar faded and the drill pulled back. The crane still moved, pulling rubble from the building and drill alike from the path as the constructor began its final moves. It began placing down modular metal planks laid together lengthwise, each one auto-leveling to create a smooth roadlike ramp down into the depths. Only once the machine had finally left the hole it created was its task fulfilled. Several marines stayed on the surface, but the rest came together and grouped up around the PAU and rover, already moving to—at long last—penetrate the vault.
The wind did not stop even within the tunnels beneath the polar base. The crunch of military boots on the drifts of what snow had managed to work its way in echoed through the halls, but it was nearly impossible to hear over the whistling wind squeezing its way within from outside. Water seeping through cracked seals during the polar summer had had its way with the once-impregnable concrete, and the fortress that had endured the combined might of the Liberty Navy was now a rough, uneven mess at the hands of the far fiercer forces of the elements. While the tracks on the larger cart made for smooth going, wheel-bound PAU was having more difficulty with the uneven floors, each jolt deafening.
<:: Ugh, again. Useless body. You’d best hurry up and help me! ::> This complaint was the herald of yet another stop in progress, and two marines turned to help the beleaguered Gammuan pull a wheel from a rut once more. <:: Thank you. ‘Oh, you’ll love it,’ they said. ‘It’ll be just like home,’ they said. ‘A perfect archival opportunity,’ they said. ::>
Having long since tuned out the longsuffering AI, Ricard bumped Pyke’s elbow with her own. “Hey, after this, you wanna get a drink? Uh, can you drink?”
“No.”
“So that’s no you don’t want to, no you can’t...?”
The Sentinel did not dignify her further line of questioning with a response, instead turning to the group. “Here.” He stood aside and motioned forward to a plain metal door set in the side of the hallway. In its original form, it would have been oddly unassuming, but the damage had made its importance clear. The wooden facade had long since been stripped away from the door, and the perfectly intact steel outer coating of the vault’s lining could be plainly seen through gaps in the ruined concrete that had once fully encased it. “Captain Alvarez, if you would.”
Charlie stepped forward and slipped the security token from their pocket, placing it on an unassuming lip atop the door before beginning the rest of the opening process. Visibly shielded by the body of steadfast Lt. Charles flanking them, there was little the Auxesians could see to tip them off about the process. Denied that curiosity, Beckley immediately began to complain again.
<:: And really, who keeps data off-grid planetside these days anyways? I understand airgapping is safer, but there are still ways around even that. If I were archiving it, I would have... ::> His droning did little to gain him any more attention, but once the vault swung open, it ended regardless. For all their grumbling, Beckley rushed towards the door like a kid to a candy shop, stopped only by Charles’s imposition.
“Wait.”
The Lieutenant stepped back and motioned Ricard forward, and her blaster sounded thrice. The remains of three automated defense turrets - tuned to men long dead - clattered to the floor within the vault, clearing the way for the excited AI. “Go.”
And go Beckley did, for scarce had Charles stepped aside before the PAU was in the room. As vaults went, it was visually unimpressive. Rows of shelves lined the walls, each carrying only boxes full of unplugged data drives labeled only with numbers. Still, the librarian was practically vibrating with excitement by the time Alvarez and the scientists joined them with the “shopping list” of drives. <:: And to think you stored it all away! Okay, okay, concentrate Beckley, concentrate. First things first, your engram, that’s why we’re here. Come on now. ::>
Alvarez actually let out a small chuckle as they pulled down the first box, fishing through it until they found the drive containing the Legion’s first and oldest known personality matrix. Scarcely sooner than it had left the box did Beckley snatch it up with their grasping manipulator, plugging it into an input slot with childlike glee. Immediately the grasping hand was outstretched and clicking again. <:: Good, come on, the rest of the list. Not much time, need to run integrity checks on everything in case we need the backups. ::>
Lt. Charles, for his part, was helping the handful of Auxesian scientists collect the other authorized data. “No time to test them all, now. Just the important ones.” He kept an eye on the Technocrats sorting through the boxes, glancing over each drive that was extracted and placed upon the cart. He glanced back over at his boss. “Speaking of which, how long do we have?”
“At least an hour. We’re ahead of schedule.” At the Captain’s words, a subtle tension left the room, and the hasty movements of the human scientists slowed. Not Beckley, though: He was digging through another crate like a starved man after a steak.
<:: The plans! The most important one. For us. I'm sure your leader is very important to you, but these, yeah. A real Legion strike craft. Oooh, yes, here you are. ::> When the drive labeled 095-83 came into sight, it was instantly snatched up and devoured by the machine. <:: Aaand we’re good, that's the last one. ::> He turned to look at his slower human companions. No expression was forthcoming from what was essentially a tower of angular black metal, but the annoyance was audible in his voice. <:: Come on now, I know you're limited, but surely you can't be this slow! The, uhh… ::>
Several beeps issued forth from the PAU, then a low hiss from its resident intelligence. <:: Bad news, your engram’s corrupted. Maybe repairable, but data loss is inevitable. You said something about backups? ::>
Alvarez let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, alright then. Clock is back on, folks. Charles, you take over here. Ricard, stay with them. I'm going with Pyke’s marines to scout out the backup vaults. See what we can find.”
“Splitting up? Is that wise, Captain?” The Lieutenant’s attention briefly turned from the Auxesians he had until then been so carefully watching.
“Nope, but better than freezing out here. You saw how long it took to get the PAU down here. If we take that thing to every vault, we'll be down here a week.” Alvarez gave a grim little frown and turned, motioning the Auxesian marines to follow.
<:: Well, at least someone is thinking of me. ::> In reply, Charles could only shake his head and return to his duties.
Captain Alvarez was silent as they stormed through the base’s dead halls. Auxesian voices sounded in their helmet at each intersection: “Check right, move up.” Again and again- “Check left, move up”, until they at last reached a dead end - a collapsed pile of earth and snow.
“Damn. Another one.” Captain Alvarez turned and waved Pyke behind them. No more words needed to be exchanged; instead, they moved to the next intersection, making their way to the next backup vault. A moment later: “More rubble.”
“The bombardment penetrated the tunnels more thoroughly than surveillance suggested.” The Sentinel paused to open his map again. “This cuts off all access points to the last backup vault.”
“So unless we can get all that equipment down here to create another breach and then hope that’s enough..."
“Our people will make do with what they have.”
“That’s... not great. If this AI comes back as anything less than the picture of Hisoka Mori, there’s going to be rioting.” Alvarez pushed back their helmet for a moment to wipe away the sweat before pulling it back over their head. “There’s people around who knew the original. Even his own niece. Gah, think, Charlie, think.”
“Relax. Trust the Technocracy.” Alvarez looked up as Pyke’s tone shifted from flat for the first time in the entire operation, settling into a soft, reassuring voice. “We will recover everything possible.”
“I guess I should be glad we got what we did. Bright side, and all. Ugh.” Captain Alvarez nodded to the Sentinel, then turned and began retracing their steps. “Alvarez to Charles. Lt. Charles, what’s your status?”
“All data have been gathered, Captain.”
“Good. No luck here; everything is buried. We’re coming back. Pack up and get ready to leave.” Alvarez closed the line and waved to Pyke, falling in behind the Auxesian marines on the way back to the main vault.
0127 Local
151 minutes remain
<:: Nothing!? ::> Beckley’s aged voice did not fit his shouting through the tinny speaker. <:: Do you Legionnaires build anything to last!? Why did we even call you back? Why bother? Why, if I was making a vault... ::>
Alvarez ignored the indignant librarian - a skill fast proving invaluable - and swept past the PAU to find their subordinate. “Charles. You ready?”
“Negative, Captain. One of Ricard’s men, ah..." He turned and motioned to a man sitting staring at the wall.
Six feet of pure muscle, the marine had removed his helmet and sat staring blankly at a wall. He was older than most of the marines there, and would never have been eligible to serve on the ground in years past, but desperate times had led to a loosening of age and fitness guidelines. Alvarez moved to sit by him, resting one hand on his shoulders. “Come on, soldier. Time to go.”
The marine only shook his head. “Apologies for, erm, my outburst mir, just... it’s different, coming back here and seeing it. I..." The man’s head drooped, his face falling to his hands. “I was in space when Liberty came. It all happened so quickly, and seeing even a deep storage vault like this in this shape, I... I just still can’t believe it.”
Alvarez gave the man a pat on the shoulder. “I know. It’s easy to get overwhelmed, but we need you focused, Legionnaire.”
“I’m trying, I only... gah.” He scrubbed at his face. “This is unbecoming.”
“Tears are important, soldier. Do not deny our loss, but save your mourning. We shall weep together back on the Ixion.” The easygoing Captain slipped into the cadence and grandiosity of Legion propaganda as cleanly as an old glove, even after all these years. “Choke back your justified emotions until then, Legionnaire. Let it drive you up the mountain.”
The marine nodded and struggled to his feet, stumbling for a moment before pulling the Auxo-issued helmet back on. “Yes... yes mir.”
While the pair took another few minutes, Lt. Charles and one of Ricard’s other marines hoisted the PAU over the first gap. “Hoo-kay, the rest of you, come on. Let’s get this rustbucket back to the surface.” Ricard’s words drew a squeak of indignity from the artificial librarian, but she ignored it. “Don’t jostle that cart now! Don’t need any of that crap spilling out.” With that they were off, with Alvarez and the marine catching up shortly thereafter, though not before Alvarez sealed the vault door once more with a clang and retrieved their security key.
The trek back to the surface was, if anything, harder—slower. The cart still made its same plodding pace, albeit slowed slightly by the small mountain of data disks upon it, but the PAU was another matter entirely. <:: If I was designing this, I would have... given... it... more... power! ::> Beckley broke into a series of curses in various languages, though none of them modern and only most of them human. Rage was not friction, however, and the wheels of the cart lost the last of their traction, sending the unit sliding back down the icy slope. Once more, two marines had to turn back to retrieve the unit and help it slowly traverse the impassable terrain.
“I do agree with Beckley, for once—I question the wisdom of sending this particular unit on a mission to traverse a damaged polar base.” Lt. Charles glanced back at his boss, who had taken a rearguard position.
Captain Alvarez shrugged, idly plopping a stack of flat adhesive disks onto the ruined walls on their way back up. “We needed the archival unit, and Megiddo didn’t want to wait long enough for the Technocrats to modify it for cold weather. Take it up with the bot and its impatience.”
“Your leaders are wise to hurry.” Pyke’s voice seemed unaffected by the weight of the PAU. “Your reemergence must be swift. Every voice left out of their concordance is a weakness, and this is not the time to be weak.”
<:: And I bear the brunt of the weight of this burden, of course. For shame! ::> Beckley’s voice dropped into a yet more dramatic tone. <:: Truly there is no friend in this world for a librarian. It is a cold, desolate duty, a burden...! ::> He found himself dropped the last inch onto the concrete. <:: Ow! ::>
“Your audition is wasted on us grunts, Beckley. Save it for the Shakespearean Society.” Alvarez laughed and—again—pat the PAU as a proxy for Beckley. They stuck the last sensor to the wall and stretched.
<:: Pah, at least someone recognizes talent, even if they are too philistine to truly appreciate it. ::> The AI let out a tinny chuckle and pushed onward.
0350 Local
105 minutes remain
“Finally! Light.” Major Ricard stepped out of the tunnel and onto the plates that made up the entrance ramp. Ushering the others up, she found the surface team had already repacked the digging equipment. “Ah, good, you didn’t just laze around. Well, chop chop, let’s get out of here before the storm blows in.”
Once the PAU reached the ramp, it was largely smooth sailing. It still struggled with the steep slope, but with a bit of encouragement it was retrieved and packed away with the rest. A series of soft beeps signaled Beckley’s merciful retreat into hibernation mode. Packing away the cart was more time-consuming. Made for rapid deployment, it was not designed with rapid egress in nearly so high priority, and had to be manually unloaded onto the center carrier before the troopers could even begin to collapse it. They managed it, but it ate away nearly twenty more precious minutes. At last, though, it was squared away, loaded onto the cart.
Still more time was worn away by the final task: Sealing the hole they had created. With many secrets left buried beneath the ground, the demolitions expert sent along with them had spent their time preparing their charges, but they could not be safely set while the team was still underground. Now more clear weather was worn away as they walked around, slipping explosive satchel into hole after carefully-prepared hole. Once their delicate task had at last been finished, they swung up on the rear vehicle and nodded.
Three engines roared, turning the huge vehicles around for the exit of the base. It was not until they had reached those ruined gates that a series of crackling explosions sounded behind them. A dull puff of snow lifted into the air heralded the closure of the hard-won passage, introducing yet another barrier to the next expedition to return.
“Cheer up, folks. Next time we see that base, it’ll be on a free Guadalajara.” Alvarez attempted to relieve a nonexistent tension over the mic. Only Charles and the scientists on the same carrier could see how their eyes lingered on the base as it faded in the inky blackness of the polar night. Even when their small convoy slipped back into the boreal forest, they were not yet ready to turn and face forward again.
The landing team could hear the returning vehicles before they saw them. Even with headlights to pierce the darkness, the thick taiga hid the heavy carriers until they were practically on top of the unit, but it did nothing for the noise. Each of the three rolled into camp in turn, turning to park in sequence before the landers. Immediately they were swarmed with support staff, rushing to take the still-loaded transports into the Sardonyx to secure them. The away party piled off, hurrying to their assigned positions. In the rush to take off there was little time to talk; everyone hurried about to complete their tasks before the snowstorm blew in.
Unlike their contents, the carriers were designed to take their precious cargo offworld as quickly as they arrived, and there was little more to do than drive them onto the Sardonyx and secure them. The rest of the landing fortifications were another story, however; not eager to leave any hint of their presence to the LSF spy satellites that only rarely swept over the area, the unit set about disassembling the temporary base, folding walls and turrets into small, modular units that could be repacked into the Sardonyx within the hour they had left.
Captain Alvarez paused to take a breath, stopping by their subordinate. “This is an efficient operation, but I’m surely glad we got here when we did. We’re still cutting it closer than I’d like.”
Lt. Charles glanced over at them. “The problems with the archival unit and inaccessible vaults certainly did delay us, but we will still fall well within the bounds of our time limit.” Even soaked in sweat, his posture remained fully upright: The perfect image of military discipline even when it did not matter in the least.
In contrast, Alvarez stood hunched half over. “Not good enough. Could’ve been more complications. We’ll have to tighten up these operations in the future. I’ll see if I can get a message to the Tectarch’s office. Get the logistics units looking at custom redesigns of all this equipment to better suit Legion needs. Err... Promethean needs. Whatever.”
“I doubt that would have helped. The issue here was the circumstances and timeframe.”
“Still.”
Charles shrugged and turned away to see the last of the miniature fortress being loaded up. The pair watched as the huge bay door of the Sardonyx slowly shut behind the last of the scientists, the engines fired, and the great ship began to lift into the sky. No sooner had it departed than the Draugr returned. Scrappy and squat compared to the great frigate, the freighter descended with speed, practically crashing into the ground by comparison—just one quick flare to drop speed, then straight down. Chatter and laughter from the marines prevented further conversation between the pair as they climbed into the dropship.
“First round’s on me back at Valravn! To an easy, successful mission!” Major Ricard’s declaration drew a round of cheers from her men. The two intelligence officers exchanged silent glances beneath the noise. Their work was not yet finished.
0535 Local
0 minutes remain
About half an hour after the landing party had left, the hellish blizzards of Guadalajara’s poles screamed their way once more through the trees. Pollinated g. rubrum exploded, sending seeds up to join the tempest, and the scruffy-necked rodents that so adored them disappeared into their hiding places once more. The trampled and burned site of the landing was wiped away by blown drifts and newly-fallen snow, as was the blasted hole leading to the vault. Within the hour, the storm smothered all.
The serverbanks that powered Megiddo thrummed quietly in the darkened room, fans whirring and keeping the room almost ten kelvin above the ambient temperature. The silence was disturbed by the hiss of the door opening, and in strode the two Legionnaires. Leading the way was Charlie Alvarez; trailing behind them was, as usual, their subordinate, the ever-faithful Lt. Harvey Charles. Within the box in Charles' hands was a single disk drive, all that remained of the long-dead second Supreme Commander of the Hellfire Legion. He set it upon the table in the center of the room and turned, waiting for the rest of the group to enter.
Entering at their own leisure, Revenant made an appearance with their typical attire of a robe that concealed their person and their face hidden behind a mask. Walking in a straightened stride, they entered the room in an inquisitive manner. "Lieutenant," she greeted, nodding in acknowledgement before briefly gazing at the data disk.
Charles nodded in acknowledgement, but it was Captain Alvarez that stepped forward. "Revenant. Good of you to join us. Your counterpart'll be coming soon?"
The door slid open once more only moments after Revenant as Leviathan arrived with a pair of armed guards clad in black. The two troopers took up opposite positions on either side of the door as a precaution.
The towering figure took his place by Revenant's side. "Hello, everyone." He said with a nod, shifting his gaze to Alvarez. "Pleased to see you were successful. I trust there weren't any complications?"
"Only one. The drive is partially corrupted, and backups were inaccessible due to the vault's degradation. It went smoothly otherwise, but that could create challenges. I'm not the computers expert here, though."
Megiddo was a peculiar entity, even by historical Legion and Technocrat standards. Though the servers also contained backup data for the amalgam, more impressive was their processing power. Processing power which Megiddo, much to the ire of the few privy enough to the AI's comings and goings, routinely shunned. Few of the engrams comprising Megiddo truly trusted Auxo, and fewer still were content with remaining shut in, preferring to shunt themselves to the limited processing power of one HF-V series Prosecutor. It is for this reason that the small group had been waiting for Megiddo - the soul - to physically return to Valravn to break the airgap separating itself from Megiddo - the body.
"When should it be arriving?" Alvarez asked. It felt uncomfortable knowing the Auxesian couple were more privy to the whereabouts of the Promethean leader than they were, but they had to remind themself that it was Leviathan, after all, who had created it.
"Now." Leviathan replied, the lights of the server room coming on two by two, as if his voice was a one word incantation of Technocrat ritual.
The room fell silent until the last lights kicked on, and Megiddo's artificial voice boomed.
"Do you have Denelo Mori?"
Captain Alvarez winced as the AI finally spoke, its neigh-godlike voice deafening in the near-silence of the server room. "We do. Lieutenant?" Charles released the seals on the box and placed the drive on the table. "As I was telling the Auxesians, though, there is some corruption. Which sectors it affects isn't clear—the portable archival unit could only confirm the presence of junk bits—but we were not able to retrieve other backups. All of the backup vaults were inaccessible."
"We will make another attempt to retrieve them later." The bizarre emphasis places on individual words and syllables by the AI was disconcerting to the Legionnaires, not only in its grandiose narcissism of verbiage and intonation but in each word's enunciation, imitating one more dead leader or another just a little more each time.
"Revenant, would your biological self do the honor of inserting the engram? We are prepared."
"It may be optimal to do another assessment of this disk... " Nodding, Revenant took a step forward to undertake the task.
"Supreme Commander Hisoka Denelo Mori will be present and viable or he will not. Your concern for our artificial self is endearing, but we have waited some time for this moment. There is nothing another scan will tell us that trial by fire will not."
For each step Raven took, the AI dimmed the lights ahead of her, as if inviting her in.
Moving forth, she assessed the ports of the artificial form, beginning to slot open a panel to rest the disk upon, connecting it up to the main body of the construct. A new organ for it to read.
The room's lights switched to a deep red, and for a brief moment the whirring came to a stop.
"NEW ENGRAM DETECTED."
"FLUSHING CACHE. ALLOCATING DRIVE SPACE. INCREMENTING ENGRAMS 002 THROUGH 022 BY ONE. RESTRUCTURING DATASTORM PATHWAYS."
"ENGRAM 002 "DENELO" ONLINE."
"COMMENCING FULL SYSTEMS REBOOT."