The dim glow of a viewscreen reflected in his eyes. The nearly intangible thrum of a capital ship's engines emanated through the walls. The artificial gravity tugged at him in a way that was entirely too gentle. The blade, sheathed and shrouded, stand upright against the wall before him. Weariness gripped him. He blinked away the days of wakefulness. He blinked away the years of memories.

The last time he'd been aboard the Dream of Dawn, Thrax was shattering apart below him. He blinked through the fog of time and stared into the viewscreen anew. He'd reread this page thrice already. Alora approached. He began to read it the fourth time. The words were as new to his eyes as they were the first.

[i]Abberant Integration System, Subject One...[/i]

Schematics. Blueprints. Anatomical drawings. Most of the information was redacted, but enough was there to have pulled Joab out of retirement. Enough was there for the brass to have gone to Maui Covenant and put a sword hilt in his hand. Enough was there for Lictor to be here now. His eyes watered. Through the reaches of memory, long bladed forelimbs rose from the viewscreen towards him. His hand tightened. The screen cracked. He blinked, and thumbed to the next dossier. As the now flickering holo-display shifted he wiped at his eyes.

A battle scarred Grizzly. Its paint job and loadout immediately drawing forth the smells of the jungle. Weight crept into his shoulders. He leaned heavier into the chair. His boot thumped heavily on the ground. He sniffed, and smelled the searing ozone of the tesla-trees. The still image of the Grizzly loomed in his vision. The Prometheus cannon spun as a phantom in his eyes. The roar filled his ears. Aberrant ichor and gunsmoke filled his nose. He could feel the earth tremble beneath the mech's titanic steps.

[i]M.C.P.O. Howser, Teddy Bear, New Halcyon...[/i]

He licked his lips, and thumbed the cracked screen again. Carnifex loomed beyond the holo-display, the blackened scabbard piercing through a display of the Grizzly's tower shield and the phantom images of long-dead Bishops and Rooks. He blinked. The weight lifted from his shoulders. His eyes fell to the blade as the screen loaded the next dossier. A smiling face shattered his reverie.

[i]Eight-Ball - Last minute addition, routing for accompaniment[/i]

That face. Those eyes. A familiarity loomed there. A familiarity that brought him far and away from Thrax. He leaned forward and looked down, away from Carnifex, and into the flickering screen. There was no mistaking it, that boy was a Valenti. He dug through memory. A battle, long ago now, where a man stood with blade outstretched. The phantom of a voice rose from his lips;

"I see the path." He murmured, gruff voice scarcely reaching his own ears. Word had reached Maui Covenant of Ricardo's historic rise in political sway. Word had reached him of a warrior who had taken up the pen. His free hand reached into his vest and retrieved a cigar. As he lit it, the ghost of the Ricardo he knew interposed over the face of the Alto he was soon to meet. He breathed deep. He blinked. He thumbed the screen.

[i]Zejiang Erica Teteh...[/i]

He groaned through grit teeth, biting down on the cigar, and swiftly scrolled past the name to the end. Mortuuus-Orbitae LXXXV. He lifted the cigar from his lips and held it aside as he studied the academy reports of the girl's successes and failures. The thick cigar taste mingled with a bile born of quiet fury- but also a quiet pride. He had not kept up with the girl after he put his name on her sponsorship; seeing her career in writing before him was evidence that he had done the right thing. As he read, the cigar burned down until it burned the tips of his fingers. With one hand he crushed the display screen.

With the other, he put the cigar-stub out against Carnifex's scabbard.
[hr]Lictor was wearing a form-fitting tactical ensemble. Black nylon stretched skin-tight and silent from neck to wrist and waist in the form of a military bodysuit, atop which he wore an armored tactical vest complete with spare magazines, first aid supplies, short range radio equipment, and surplus ration storage which was partially being used to hold a cigar box. A heavy semiautomatic handgun was holstered at his hip, and at-rest in his lap was an infantryman's rifle. Carnifex, as tall as he was when seated, leaned against his shoulder with its rounded point resting between his feet. A radio headset connected to the equipment at his waists, and a tactical visor displayed data-feeds to his eyes.

Eyes which were closed. He leaned here, restfully, seemingly comfortable and at-ease in the thrum of the dropship and with the smells and thick scent of a soldier platoon around him. It wasn't until introductions were asked for that Lictor finally spoke;

"His nose wouldn't be so brown if your breath didn't smell like shit, Eorman. Keep that glove full-a Vaseline?"

It was ribbing, cold and direct, but it bore an unmistakable lack of vitriol or malice. Rather, it was the salted words of the grizzled soldier, an admonishment rather than a challenge. His posture shifted, but still he did not look directly at his companions. Carnifex tilted forward until it stood perfectly straight, his forearm resting on the crossguard as he thumbed the stock of his rifle and gazed into the thirteenth AB sword's black scabbard. His lips twitched upwards as Aissi's whispered echo of Teddy's humor reached his ears.

"I am the Lictor. This is Carnifex. White Dwarf, Main Class." He made a short gesture with two fingers towards Maximus, flicking his index and middle fingers to draw the man's eyes to Lictor's instead of gawking at Aissi. "You're gonna rile up the boys if you keep watching your ass like that. Focus up. I've got the pup."

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[i]Lictor's mind was a calm sea, minor ripples across a smooth surface, few disturbances on a reflective sheen. His harsher tongue and crude words were not of anger or disappointment, but of habit and familiarity. He was at peace, and a certain level of comfort emanated off of him. Like this was, in some way, a return to home for him. He carried an amusement that did not dare outwardly express itself at Theodore, but was unmistakably present.[/i]
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