[center]A collaboration between [@Enigmatik] and Eventua, presenting... [h2][color=darkturquoise]The Voice of the People[/color] [color=077B0A]Extends a Helping Hand[/color][/h2] [i][color=darkturquoise]Guan Liang and the away team make unexpected contact with a[/color] [colour=077B0A]most unfortunate group of an equally unfortunate nation.[/colour] [color=darkturquoise]Featuring Cog-Ace Guan Liang[/color][color=077B0A] and ‘Captain’ Vasir[/color][/i][/center] The away team had spent three long hours at Tranquility Base. After the strange figures from the Khaganate had left, the crew had taken their time gathering information. The footsteps, the flags, the signs of repeated landings… And then the memorial. Liang’s eyes couldn’t help but linger on it, even as the other cogs slowly began to make their way back towards the Veined Jay. They chewed it over slowly in their mind- the sleek steel, unblemished by air but scratched by the regolith. The symbols of eras passed into mythology, states that no longer existed, from a planet that no longer lived. Beneath each one of the five pillars was set a plaque, and on each plaque the same message was repeated, in five different languages. The Qinglongren hadn’t needed a translation for the first one. Five different dates, five different crews, from Armstrong to Singh. Five groups that had reached across the gap of time and space to plant their flags on the soil of Mare Tranquillitatis. A triumph, Liang thought quietly to themselves. The weight of history indeed. Just as they were about to finally turn, to slip back into the shuttle and ascend back to the carrier bay of the Voice of the People, something else occurred to them. Above the pillars, barely perceptible against the void but distinctly [i]there[/i], faint and hazy… Smoke. The veteran didn’t waste a single movement as they strode towards the shuttle. “Cog-Pilot, looks like a smoke trail on your seven - likely downed craft.” [hr] Red lights, red fluid, red noise. The alert was incessant, reverberating through the man’s ears like a street dog begging for scraps. He winced as he lifted his head, mind racing to sort through the noise and delirium, and raised a shaking hand to feel the warmth and damp that was obscuring his right eye- Sharpness, steel, and an audible sting as he felt a loose fragment from something – a door? part of a terminal? – lodged into his skull. [i]Wh-what, we…[/i] his thoughts were swimming, something faintly green mixing in at the periphery of his vision, [i]...what happened-[/i] [color=077B0A][b][i]Son![/i][/b][/color], rang in his ears, a clarion call, [color=077B0A][b][i]we must act![/i][/b][/color] [i]Blink,[/i] he thought, and he did, [i]and act.[/i] He reached down, fingers feeling to unstrap the harness. The stickiness of something soaking into the dark of his uniform left a hollow feeling in his gut, but he couldn’t wait – there were other faces here. Unconscious, but… breathing? The buckle unstrapped as he stretched his spine, forced himself on wobbling legs to stand upright. He felt a shudder move up his leg as his body felt lighter than before, but he had some strength left in him to try and position himself. [i]Gravity’s weaker… we’ve landed on an object,[/i] his mind racing for the images of the view screen before everything went dark, [i]Earth’s moon.[/i] He felt a bitterness in his mouth as he glanced at the various members of the bridge crew – vitals would need checking soon but right now he had to get a distress signal out and assess the basics. At the back of his brain, he felt where his gestalt access was still dimly connected to the ship’s intelligence by a few thin mycelial tendrils. [i]Damage… report…[/i] his mind echoed, and his father’s ghost repeated for emphasis. There was the sense of several consciousnesses competing within his own, his mind’s eye temporarily clouding out his view of the bridge. [color=077B0A][b][i]Life support: 86%, Stabl- 85%, Stabl- 84%, Stabl- 83%, Stabl-.[/i][/b][/color] He was going to be sick. [i]Blink,[/i] he thought, [i]Blink, focus, other systems report, and quickly![/i] [color=077B0A][b][i]Thrusters: 0%. Defences: 5%. Structural Integrity: 17%. Electronics: 26%. … Fusion stability: 34%.[/i][/b][/color] He gasped, his breath shorter now. No wonder life support was falling so quickly, the rest of the ship couldn’t be more than a broken skeleton wrapped around a damaged heart and a handful of muscles at this point. [i]Distress, please, send a-[/i] [color=077B0A][b][i]In progress, Captain Vasir.[/i][/b][/color] He couldn’t help but squint at that. [i]Captain…? I’m-[/i] [color=077B0A][b][i]All indications suggest the captain is dead, and all other coordinator-qualified crew are dead or incapacitated. Congratulations on the promotion, and we recommend that your first course of action is stabilizing other bridge crew members. [/i][/b][/color] He blinked, took a deep breath, and nodded. [i]Get to work,[/i] he thought, and so he did. [hr] The red alert went out, a simple looping signal that military historians may have recognised as the ‘S.O.S.’ of old Earth. The air between the Veined Jay and the Voice of the People lit up with communications. Information swirled about like clouds in a storm, the entire apparatus of the Accord’s finest diplomatic vessel rerouted to see what they could possibly do in this moment. As the shuttle itself lifted off the surface of Luna and tore across the sky, the response came back towards the Rite of Passage. It came in dots and dashes, a frantic series of beeps to respond to their own dull, looping, three-letter structure. H-E-L-P I-S C-O-M-I-N-G “We’re on limited air,” Guan Liang noted somberly. “And there may not be additional room inside the shuttle…” “You needn’t fear Cog-Ace.” The marine officer offered a reassuring reply. “We’ve been connected to life support during the excursion, and we’re carrying military loads. Eight hours of air is more than enough.” A crackle came through the passenger bay as the pilot engaged the intercom system, then immediately, “Apologies for that.” It cut for a second, then returned. “I’ve received instructions from the Voice of the People. We’re to lend as much aid as we can, and if their craft is fully disabled, we’re to invite them aboard and return them to the Voice. Additional shuttles are being scrambled if they’re required.” A few nods spread across the seated suits. “I’m fully throttling our omnilink connection to the Voice. If you haven’t already, please make sure you’ve installed all relevant translations and linguistic information before we touch down.” The craft banked a little. “Spotted the crash site now. Putting us down.” It was self-evident that the ship they were attending to was little more than scrap at this point – green and faintly triangular, the powerful ion thrusters built into its sides and rear had been partially torn through in the impact, and some kind of large hole had been smashed out of the side of the vessel… seemingly from the inside? In its emergency descent the cavity in its side had stretched and torn, leaving the ship almost split in half, internal modules and rooms having sealed shut as part of an emergency effort to prevent shipwide decompression. The scars of lunar dust and its sudden crash into the valley-like walls of the crater had torn much of its markings and external components, its main airlock or docking systems buried under its own weight or torn and scattered around the main piece of the corpse. The Veined Jay landed smoothly, the marines unclipping themselves and standing ready by the exit. As soon as the door had swung open, they moved out with purpose, bounding across the lunar regolith with purpose and speed, a few members of the Luna delegation following behind them. The cogs of the Accord took in the scene with somber recognition, eyes scanning across the wreckage, and… Most sickening of all: the bodies – cold and hollow, with exosuits or helmets split during the impact, scattered around the crater or the trail it had carved into the ground. Others, meanwhile, were halfway dressed in their exosuits, eyes bulging with shock as their last moments had been the realization of their own fatal delay. There was no time to delay and mourn the fallen though. Every member of the crew had seen combat, had seen blood and ruin and twisted, mangled steel. Some marines stopped, checking on bodies, closing eyes and moving through the wreckage smoothly and effectively despite having to adjust for Luna’s lighter gravity. Their search was not in vain, however, for somebody… no, some[i]thing[/i], was waving at them from one of the wreckage’s openings into the vacuum. The figure – blocky, mechanical, with an opaque steel dome for a helmet and a body of steel and polyester, waved an awkward hand and blinked an array of colourful lights at them. It sat upright, but appeared to make no motion to stand to its full height or move itself closer to its would-be rescuers. One of the marines paused for a moment, then gestured across to the opening, before closing the distance towards the synthetic survivor. Without fanfare, three more soldiers pushed on, while the one attending to the robot gestured across to the Veined Jay, clenching and unclenching their fist rapidly to try to communicate in morse. The blocky machine tilted itself slightly, as if in thought, before the lights on its front responded in turn. “NO LEGS. CAN’T SIGNAL CREW. RADIO LOST. HELP CREW.” As it pointed at itself, where the impact had crushed its lower limbs. Attempting to lift itself on rounded arms, what remained of its lower joints were twisted out from under it and tightly sealed beneath a partially smashed in door. The hand signals continued. “C-O-P-Y T-H-A-T. T-E-A-M W-I-L-L R-E-N-D-E-R A-S-S-I-S-S-T-A-N-C-E.” There was a slight, almost darkly comedic moment as the marine shook his hand out a little, trying to work the tension out of it. “T-A-K-E Y-O-U I-N-T-O S-H-U-T-T-L-E” “YES. THANK YOU. SORRY ABOUT YOUR HAND.” It gave an oversized shrug, before pointing behind it and above, to what appeared to be a sealed vent on the ceiling. Looking towards the pair, the marines headed towards it, one reaching out to hammer on it in a rhythm that had survived half a millenia - The old ‘shave-and-a-haircut.’ There was a pause, the sound of something faintly rummaging and knocking against the distant inside of the vent. For several minutes there was no clear response, before at last they heard something beyond the sealed vent click open. Finally, there was a simple, evenly measured ‘thump thump’ in response. There was some kind of beep, a short-range transmission trying to come through in their direction. “Hello…? Can you hear us? This is, uh… Captain- acting Captain, Vasir, of the [i]GN Rite of Passage[/i]. Are you from the Tranquil Watcher?” There was a slightly startled moment from the marine as he realised that he [i]understood[/i] the man, but he pressed on nonetheless. The first communication attempt with Vasir lead to nothing but static, but then… “Greetings Actin-g Captain V-Vasir?” The voice sounded like it was swallowing half its words, clearly not used to speaking English. “Negative, we are marines from the IPC Voice of the People” there was a moment mid-sentence where the voice seemed to shift, the Mandarin accent fading and an odd twang- similar to Vasir’s own voice, entered his tone. “We saw your distress signal and came to render aid. Are you injured? Is it safe to break the pressure seal?” “Oh, I…” there was a pause, confusion clear in Vasir’s voice, before a simple “I see, yes,” came through. There was another pause, and the sound of somebody close by gasping for breath. “Please help us, we have limited airflow control and will soon be on emergency oxygen. There’s about six of us here, but one of our exosuits is unusable and another has some damage we’re trying to patch up. Do you have some kind of shuttle or transport we can use to make contact with the Tranquil Watcher?” “Copy that, Captain Vasir. We have a pressurised shuttle nearby which we can use to transport you off Luna, medical supplies and patch kits for damaged suits. If there are interior divisions, we’d recommend taking refuge in them now as we breach.” A long breath and some rustling echoed across the communications link. “Stay strong, stay united, stay harmonious. We’re coming in.” “Thank you. Everybody, exosuits and emergency chambers [i]now![/i]” [hr] Meanwhile, the small shuttle they had arrived on was facing an altogether different issue. Its sensor suite had lit up with approximately nine ships worth of contacts, evenly spaced in such a way that the largest signatures were based at the ‘front’, were converging on Luna – and at least a few of those at the rear of the fleet appeared to be armed. The pilot checked, then double-checked the scanning systems, then physically leaned forward in the cockpit and looked up. For a moment even their trained efficiency gave way to apprehension, and their head whipped towards their communications suite as it lit up with an incoming signal. It had arrived from from the largest of the rear vessels, a broadcast in multiple languages. “This is Captain Aurida on behalf of the Pillars of Avalon and the Annwn System. We were set to make contact at these coordinates with ships from our system and sensors indicate they have suffered critical damage in line with ship-to-ship weaponry. If you are found responsible, we will take retaliatory action.” There was no response from the Veined Jay. Instead, from above, looming large in Luna’s orbit, a much, much more high-energy communications line was opened up from the [i]Voice of the People[/i], in that same, odd synthesis of Qinglong Mandarin and Avalonian English. “Greetings. This is Cog-Officer Cao Zhong, Captain of the IPC Voice of the People, official diplomatic vessel of the Executive Machine of the Qinglong Accord. We are unaware of your people or any combat that has occurred that would lead to a ship’s destruction - our shuttle was carrying out a scheduled exploration mission when we received an SoS, and we have moved to lend assistance in line with emergency protocols. We do not mount offensive weapons. We are not involved in this. We only seek to do what any civilised people ought to upon receiving a distress signal.” There was an unpleasantly long pause, the fleet continuing to move with steady determination. The usual delay of space communication appeared to drag on, the response slower than hoped – debate, they could hope, rather than preparing for an attack. Finally, after several more agonizing minutes, their sensors could detect weapon systems cooling down from the rear vessels, though the formation remained and sensors suggested some kind of small dispersed objects close to the largest signatures. From such a long distance they read like a swarm of bees around a hive, but details were hard to parse. Cao Zhong frowned a little. They knew those signatures - that swarm of faint dispersed objects surrounding a controller. Drone swarms. These ‘Pillars of Avalon’ had come ready for conflict, and the [i]Voice[/i] had nothing to retaliate with if they decided the ship was a threat. “...If this is true, thank you for your assistance. Are you able to transmit contact with survivors of either the GN Rite of Passage or the Tranquil Watcher? Both should have been in range to make contact with Earth’s moon but we have lost long-range transmission with them and suspect they are limited to the last remaining emergency systems.” “Negative Captain Aurida. We were transporting an honour guard of marines who have initiated the rescue of your people. Unfortunately, the Veined Jay is not designed for large-scale crisis response and will not be able to dock with your vessels, nor does it have our communications suite available to it.” There was a pause as the line unexpectedly went on hold, then - “I am being encouraged by the cog-diplomats aboard to formally invite you and your crew aboard. I appreciate this may not be the right moment for it, but I assure you that we only wish to help.” Another long pause followed, though clearly the delay was less a result of travel times as they steadily drew closer and closer… and one of the swarms, meanwhile, had started to stretch beyond the reach of the fleet. One minute, two minutes, and it was clear now that it was accelerating at significant speeds. Collision, if such was the intention, would happen in less than twenty minutes. Cao’s hand shifted to hover over the button that would signal a red alert across the Voice. They held their breath for a moment until… “We have dispatched drones from one of the forward carriers to assist in the rescue effort, and…” another brief pause, much shorter this time, “...thank you for the kind offer. Once we are within effective shuttle distance we will send envoys to your vessel.” [hr] There was now a slightly awkward problem inside the Veined Jay as the marines escorted the survivors towards the shuttle. First had come the hobot, hefted over the marine’s back like a rucksack, and calmly set down against the farthest wall. Then, one by one came the rest of the Rite of Passage’s crew, assisted and carried out of the wreckage and towards the small, sleek ship. By the time it was all done, an obvious problem had emerged - there were too few seats to take everyone. Captain Vasir stood by the shuttle, helping the marine carry up one of the crew whose leg had been badly broken, the bleeding stemmed with the help of a Qinglong medic. Now he was stood here, the last survivor clad in one of the emergency ‘aerosuits’ that were packaged as an absolute last resort when all exosuits were gone – effectively little more than an insulated diving suit with an oxygen tank, only useful for spending maybe an hour in vacuum before lack of oxygen and the cold alike would become too much. “Thank you,” he spoke through a wrist-tied radio tuned to their frequency, already shivering from the walk, “your kindness… please get them to safety. I can wait here until the rest of our ships arrive.” [i]Liar,[/i] Vasir thought to himself, [i]the fusion reactor has twenty minutes, if that.[/i] One of the figures inside - identical on the outside, reached up to their helmet and slid the polarising lens of their helmet up. Inside, behind the pristine exterior of their softsuit stood someone old enough to be Vasir’s grandfather. An old, worn veteran nodded seriously at Vasir, then extended their hand to shake. “Captain Vasir, I am Cog-Ace Guan Liang, one of the diplomatic crew aboard our carrier vessel. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Vasir’s grip was firm in turn, but something in his eyes seemed almost baffled at seeing Liang’s face. Around them, the rest of the crew was clearly caught up in a conversation. After a few moments of debate, one of the marines turned towards Vasir. “Acting Captain, please board the shuttle. We’ve been connected to life support for more than three hours and have nearly full air loads. We can safely remain behind, the Blue Peacock has already been scrambled and can pick us up in less than fifteen minutes. Do you have any preference for how we handle the deceased?” Vasir’s eyes went wide at the offer. “That’s… that’s too dangerous, I can’t ask you all to stay, uh-” He paused, his father’s echo in the back of his mind: [color=077B0A][b][i]Don’t be a fool. They know what they’re doing.[/i][/b][/color] “-sorry, thank you. If possible, please collect the bodies, but… don’t risk your own lives for ashes. We all volunteered for this, to see Earth, it’s…” he gritted his teeth and sighed, “There are worse places to rest.” “Copy.” The marine nodded. “We’ll collect and organise them as best we can, and leave them for your people to recover.” Behind him, one of the marines reached into an overhead locker and retrieved what appeared to be several folded sections of reflective foil. As the rest of the squad headed out, the officer gave one last firm salute - a fist brought to collar height, then headed out, the Veined Jay’s engines picking up after two sharp raps on the exterior hull. Vasir was still watching the marines head out, his awkward attempt at mimicking their salute having faded away, his mind racing with questions, before at last he shook himself into the present and turned to look back at his rescuer. As they began their ascent, Liang turned back towards Vasir. “My compliments to you and your people captain. That can’t have been an easy crash to walk away from. “I’m glad we could render assistance.” In that moment, it was crystal clear beyond the clear plastic of his mask, that he was a young man despite his height, slightly built and round in the face that revealed he couldn’t be more than his early twenties. The cold was clinging to the sweat around his eyes, nose and lips, and his skin had turned pallid as he followed into the vessel, the doors closing behind them. “Thank you, sir. I wish it hadn’t been needed, but… thank you.”