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SPEAKER ANNOUNCEMENT
Broadcast over speakers onboard, Doss speaks:
This is a CODE RED ALERT and all hands are required.
Earlier this evening, Bone intercepted a directive from the Architects to initiate a Sterilisation Event in Xitang, China on 01/29/2026 at 1600. There's no information about what is triggering this, but we have a unique chance to save 50,000 souls from eradication.
Evacuation is our primary goal here. We know the blast radius is 15.5 miles (25 km for our non-Americans). We need to get as many people as possible out of the radius as quickly and as efficiently as we can. St James has a suggested approach here. Espionage, consult with your chain of command for assignments.
Ground Forces will be on site getting as many people to safety as possible. Your primary directive is evacuation. Utilize any resources at your disposal.
These people are Veiled. This makes things easier and trickier at the same time. We won't have widespread panic: you're fighting against complacency.
Pilots, your primary directive is drone destruction You're the hail Mary: as long as the drones are targeting you, they can't execute their orders. We need to give people on the ground as much time as we can. You'll be against the big boys, not just the standard drones. They're powerful, but they're slow. Take advantage of your maneuverability.
Strategists, you'll be manning Command with Science. Let them run point on ground communication and stick to what you know best: how to keep our pilots alive.
Remember the mission. Let's go be big damn heroes.
Post-Mission Minis
Eva & Eli
She wondered if it was the simplicity or the people that had made up her life that she missed.
The thought was shaken from her head as she re-shouldered the bag of treats, an aggravating set of shoulders promptly blocking her exit.
“I see your injuries didn’t render you incapacitated,” she chirped, stepping to the side to go around him.
The aforementioned set of shoulders didn’t even tense as he glanced askance at her, helmet tucked under his arm as the pilot he had been talking to made themselves scarce. The captain could have moved more to make it easier for the ground force agent to navigate, but he simply watched as she flattened herself against the wall and slid around him.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said evenly as his lips ticked briefly upwards before smoothing, shifting his stance minutely to avoid getting his other leg bruised.
“I’m used to it, cangrejo,” she said without bite, adjusting her load so nothing was crushed. She could deal with any number of things, but not the pout of her partner’s son should his favorite of whatever was inside was damaged. “And we both know you aren’t apologetic.”
He grunted in reply, gaze drifting down to the bag she was hauling now that she was in his line of sight — a bag that looked out of place among the warship.
“Do I want to know?” he asked, nodding towards her new cargo as if his meaning wasn’t clear.
“You asking leads me to believe you do,” she countered instantly, peeking in at the frankly insane amount of candies, snack cakes and candles she had swept into the bag. “It’s Cal’s fault.”
“Normally is,” Eli neutrally observed.
She huffed out a breath, the sound close enough to a laugh to pass as one.
“Is it alive, flammable, or a potential biohazard?” he asked wearily, his eyebrow briefly quirking as he tried to fight a glimmer of amusement before his full attention settled on the brunette in front of him.
“No; one thing is intentionally set aflame; and it depends on your opinion of shelf-stable goods,” she replied, giving an inch and opening the bag just enough to be peered into.
He saw the flash of a wrapper and —
He blinked to clear his eyes, trying to rationalize the mishmash of items he had seen.
“Please tell me he didn’t raid someone’s birthday party for the candy,” he slowly said, green eyes flicking up to hers to see if he was really seeing candles and party favors.
“Of course not.” A beat as she adjusted her grip on the bag, impatiently gesturing for him to get a move on before anyone else decided to sneak a glance. “It was a retirement party.”
Eli stared at her as she cinched the bag shut, fingers curling around the edge of his helmet. He knew, technically, that he should point out the risk of delaying an evacuation for candy, but he was too wiped from playing chicken with the drones to find it in him to care.
Especially not when he was often a recipient of the secret stash.
“Tell him he owes me the peanut butter,” he said after a moment, shaking his head as he took a step into the hallway.
A dark set of brows arched, and she did not remotely try to keep the bag pinned to her side as she let it whack him in the leg. “Tell him yourself,” she called over her shoulder, brisk steps leading her away from him. “I’m not your messenger.”
Eli lifted his helmet in a mock salute behind her back, trying not to give her the satisfaction of wincing as yet another bruise formed on his leg courtesy of Eva Aldana Gutiérrez.
“I’m not your target practice,” he called back, already turning to head back to his room to shower.
“Then stop volunteering,” she suggested, brown eyes catching on green when she half-turned to face him. “You make it too easy.”
For a brief moment, perhaps a trick of the light, interest sparked in his gaze at the challenge in her voice.
“Noted,” he said, tucking his helmet back under his arm and walking backwards to keep her in his line of sight for just a moment longer as she gave him a thumb’s up. He nodded once before turning, his turn to add over his shoulder, “would hate for you to get bored.”
Nishad & Maryle
It would be ridiculous if Nishad were to avoid his room simply because his roommate’s bragging is irritating his ego. That would be the actions of a sore loser, which he isn’t. The important thing — truly, even if he’s struggling to remember it in the face of Az’s delight — is that they saved thousands upon thousands of veiled from being poofed out of existence.
A feat that does, whether she likes it or not, make Maryle’s discovery particularly heroic. So Nishad is not avoiding his roommate, he’s seeking Maryle out to see if she’s in better spirits now that the mission’s been a success.
Openly exhausted as he drops down into the chair nearest Maryle’s in the common area, he offers a grin. “Still the reluctant hero or have you warmed up to the title yet?”
READ MORE
Though she's valiantly attempting to read a book, Maryle is too keyed up and was failing at the exercise even before Nishad arrived and spoiled the quiet. She lets out an overly dramatic, put out sigh as she closes the book over her finger to mark her place, but as she looks over at him she checks for any signs of injury (none, good). Which means she can make a face at him without feeling any guilt.
"Wow, you're so annoying. Shouldn't you be off crowing about how cool you are? Or, like, sleeping again?"
Entirely undeterred by the face she makes or the words coming out of her, his smile simply widens. “I feel as though I couldn’t sleep if I tried and as though I may fall asleep right here and now, but I can’t make any promises that I’ll fall asleep and leave you to your book in peace.” A beat. “But I am taking that as you noticing how cool I am. Thank you.”
Maryle's lips shift into a smile, but one that's more patronizing than anything else. She's still feeling a bit off thanks to the mission and her impending chat with Dom, but that's never stopped her from picking on her friends.
"Just because you'd be saying it doesn't make it true, Nish." She slides a shred of paper into the book as a bookmark before she twists a little in her seat to ball herself up and face her companion more fully.
"And I don't believe that you can't fall asleep, regardless of whatever adrenaline you still have going on. How was it?"
“Exhilarating. Exhausting. The new recruits did well.” As for what happened on the ground, those on the Mnemo would know as well as he would by now. “I could sleep anywhere at anytime, but—“ A hesitation before he shrugs. “—I wouldn’t want to extinguish my roommate’s high with my own inability to keep my eyes open. Once you’re done putting up with me, I’ll likely find my way to my office.”
"Awww, Nish, does it suck to have to deal with someone as up their own ass as you?"
Book now abandoned on the back of her chair, Maryle sets her arms down folded so she can rest her chin on them. She's glad they did well. She's maybe even looking forward to asking Sloane about the experience. But, that's for later. She'll take this distraction now.
"You're really going to let him keep you out of your room? Do you need me to go yell at him for you?"
“Would you?” He jokes, with no hint of a desire for actual follow through. “I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than seeing you fight my battles, but the only fight here is to not be a spoilsport about Az’s high spirits. He deserves to celebrate. Maybe I’ll even rally.”
Maryle scoffs quietly — honestly, she's kind of in the mood to cause trouble, so if Nishad did genuinely want her to harass an adult man, she'd probably do it. But he doesn't, and maybe it's not best to be acting out anyways.
"You know what a pain in the ass I can be. But, that's surprisingly mature for you. Being the bigger person. Never thought I'd see the day." She hums as she ponders if she wants to be a good friend or continue in her current state of half-moping. Settling on the former, she sighs.
"So, why are you so annoyed, hm?"
“Oh. No. I won’t be telling you that,” Nishad objects, aware that Maryle’s ignorance of the why is, in fact, a blessing that he shouldn’t sneeze at. “You’ve never needed ammunition to start firing, it doesn’t seem wise to offer it freely.”
"Did he call you 'kid'? Steal some kills? Get in your way? Do you actually have no patience for people being proud of themselves?" Maryle rattles off, as though she herself wouldn't be annoyed by a self-satisfied pilot taking up space in her room.
"...Sloane's not going to be like that, is she?"
“One of the above.” That’s enough of a confession, likely. Her question, however, results in a soft laugh. “I can’t tell if she’s going to be less obnoxious than the rest of us or if she’s just easing into letting herself be obnoxious in front of us.”
Maryle groans at the denial of an answer, tilting her head back for a moment dramatically. She hates the hero moniker, but she's one to use everything at her disposal.
"Is this really how you treat a hero? Withholding information? And I'm fairly convinced she'll be ok, but I figured you might've gotten some extra intel on her in the field."
“Too early to tell when it comes to Sloane.” A beat. “And I’m afraid we’re on the other side of things now,” he comments, watching her with amusement. “You’re not the only hero in the room.” Here, he gestures to himself. (He’s not the only person in the room that’s just returned to the Mnemo, either, but there might as well be no one else in the room. The ability to pretend that there’s more privacy than there really is is paramount to not losing one’s mind on the ship.) “But I’ll tell you if you can promise restraint in mocking me.”
"Like you didn't just come in here ready to poke me about being a hero," Maryle grumbles, but her attitude is fairly mild. Especially since she's apparently going to get what she wants if she plays nice for the moment.
Sitting up a little straighter, her smile turns deceptively sweet.
"Oh, I can definitely control myself. Cross my heart and all that."
That draws a soft laugh of disbelief. “Liar.”
"Never. Now, out with the goods. What's making poor Nishad so unhappy?"
“Well,” Nishad starts, despite his full confidence that Maryle is, in fact, a liar, “poor Nishad’s roommate happens to be top of the kill board. But with so many new, eager recruits thriving on kill sniping, poor Nishad’s got the honor of being bottom of the board. It’s made Az’s revelry a bit of an inconvenience for him.”
The third person had begun as a joke, but it turns out to be easier to admit it when there’s a level of detachment from the words. “But there is a promise of body shots, should I rally.”
Maryle, her expression schooled into seriousness, manages to keep a smile from appearing even at the ridiculous mention of body shots. They really are all going insane up here.
"My god, poor Nishad. That has got to sting, especially since, were their roles reversed, he certainly wouldn't behave like his roommate."
She gives a very serious nod. "Body shots after failure are generally the medical advice."
He’s opened his mouth to agree that he would never behave the same way (knowing full well that it’s a lie) when the second half of what she’s said registers. “There was no failure,” Nishad objects, eyebrows raising. “The lot of them are all kill snipers.”
"Uh-huh." Maryle sounds painfully unconvinced as she settles back down onto her arms, her bottom lip jutting out in a feigned pout. Ok, she is actually glad he sought her out.
"Poor wittle Nishad, all the other kids stealing his toys. Maybe next time you'll have better luck, hm? Or you could murder Az I guess."
Sinking down into the chair, Nishad sighs. “Remember when you said you would be able to show restraint? It’s not that I believed you, but I had hope for at least two minutes of you pretending,” he grumbles, acting more put out than he actually feels by her teasing. “You haven’t even offered to be an accomplice.”
Maryle laughs unapologetically, offering Nishad a little shrug and a self-satisfied smile.
"We both know you'd be a nightmare if you were top of that board, so I figure this is only fair. And I don't think Az is worth being my first kill. I need to, like, really connect with the victim, you know? And not through body shots."
“Yeah?” Nishad considers for a moment. “I think you’d make a phenomenal black widow.”
"Oh, I think I could be very successful. But that'll have to wait for someone that's not your roommate."
“I was going to say I’d miss Az in his untimely demise, but then I remembered that I’d have the room to myself.” A beat. “Once the novelty of it wore off, perhaps. But I wouldn’t wish you on him, even so.”
Maryle scoffs.
"You've already got an office to run away to at least. You definitely don't deserve your own room; I'd move Sloane in with you."
And now it’s Nishad’s turn to scoff. “Sloane’s my pilot, she’s certainly not welcome to share a room with me. You, however… no, I don’t know that I would survive the close quarters.”
"You can move into your office, I'll stay in my room, and Sloane will take yours. Everyone wins, and no one gets murdered. Except for Az, I guess."
Nishad pretends to consider for a moment. “No, sorry, that would be ridiculous. I can’t sleep in a hammock every night, Maryle. You’ll just have to keep Sloane with you.”
With a loud sigh, Maryle's head tilts to the side in her arms.
"It'd all be a lot of work, I guess. We can leave things the way they are. Now," she extricates one hand to wave it dismissively at Nishad.
"Go be an adult and take back your portion of the room."
Reluctant to do as instructed, Nishad counters: “There were threats of sexiling me. He may be following through on those. Best I stay here a little while longer.”
"Oh, well, if he does that then let me know who he brought home. I can add it to my chart if it's new information."
Again, she shoos Nishad with her hand, more to be obnoxious than anything else at this point.
“You know, I think most people would be more understanding that I’d rather talk to a beautiful woman than deal with an inflated ego,” he comments as he pushes himself to standing, “but I suppose I should figure out if I’ve been locked out yet.”
Maryle renews her earlier, falsely sweet smile as Nashid stands. Somewhere in the expression, though, he can probably tell that she's appreciative of him.
"Everyone always wants to talk to me," she lies, because she's definitely not the easiest person. "And seriously, don't be a baby. Sleep in your own room, if you're not sexiled."
“I’m not being—” But the argument is interrupted by a yawn that can’t be stifled. “Yeah, alright.” A beat. “Night, Maryle.”
The hand that had earlier shooed now gives a little finger waggle wave.
"Night, Nish. And, don't let this go to your head, good job. Even if you bottomed out that scoreboard."
He wrinkles his nose and holds his hands up in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture as he steps away, though he looks pleased despite it. “You know, you could have left the last bit off.”
"Could have, yeah," she agrees. "But that's no fun."