[IC] The Parallel Campaign - An Expansive Spacefaring RPG

* * *

The Overseer grunted as he pulled himself over another stone face and up to the top of the mountain. Looking down over the treacherous, rocky terrain of their far-flung domain instilled a melancholy sense of at-home warmth in him, tempered by notes of depressed resignation. He hadn’t seen his real home in a while, but soon he would be walking through the homes of others as they cowered and ran.

He sat, contemplating this future. Was is worth it? He had done this countless times, over countless eons. All the more time to wear down on him. Perhaps a passing of the torch was in order. Would they be willing? Who would bear this responsibility? Perhaps he should speak with the Other, as his predecessor once did to him. Perhaps he was the only one. He still held hope that one day he may die.

Gamma materialised at his side, taking a familiar form - the same form the others of the Twelve oft took. It had likely been expecting the Overseer’s return from his hike for some time. The Shard’s Port was only a few hundred metres behind him.

Gamma rematerialized, sitting next to him, placing an artificial hand on the Overseer’s armoured shoulder. “How have you been, in recent days?” asked the ancient being.

The Overseer shrugged. “No better nor worse.” He extended his arms, stretching his weary muscles. Infinite youth was not quite infinite yet, it seemed. “I need to retire.”

Gamma remained silent for a moment. “Soon,” it whispered encouragingly. “We have pondered the time-space, and our master knows of your weariness and despair. Soon.”

The Overseer swallowed any retort that may have coalesced in his mind. “I hope so.”

“I have seen as much myself. This Alpha is tenacious, but as are we.”

The red-armoured figure nodded. “Any luck with the Cenotaph?” he inquired.

“None.” Gamma paused for a moment, as the Overseer bowed his helmeted head. “How goes the crusade?”

The Overseer laughed. A joke, unexpected from one of the Twelve, but then again Gamma had been fond of imitation. “Sadly, well. If you say ‘soon,’ then I’ll hold you to it. I’m becoming tired. I want to die.”

It was Gamma’s turn to bow its head. “Unfortunately natural. Infinity is a fickle thing.”

The Overseer sat for a moment, considering Gamma’s words. “It is,” he eventually conceded.

* * *

[Perpenheimer]

* * *

* * *

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

There was an old Human joke about the Collective.

The Vanguard is going to a restaurant. The Star Guardian drives them there. They sit at a booth and try to figure out what to get. The Advisor and the Practitioner are bickering about the specials while the Consular is on the verge of yelling trying to get his opinion heard, and the Lifekeeper is desperately trying to get everyone to order something healthy. The Tactician is vetoing everyone’s choices because they’re too expensive. The Peacekeeper is trying to calm everyone down while Sentinel leaps over the table and begins trying other people’s food.

And all the while the Combatant is just sitting there with a headache, desperately waiting for everyone to make a decision.

Yeah, not a very good joke, but it rang true enough as Adrian massaged his temples, wanting to get back to Briggs so they could share a beer or two. He might as well leave now and come back because Crasina wasn’t making a decision anytime soon.

“We can’t afford to open the Bridges, Consul Bakos, not yet,” the Grand Strategist said with an air of finality. “No matter how much trade has been halted.”

“The Citizenry is needy, Grand Strategist. The Concordians are suffering too - much more than we are. Have we seen any evidence of a Colossus presence here?” replied Bakos.

“There have been some unconfirmed rumours of agents slipping through,” vel Astranos put in.

Bakos turned to the Kraian, quizzical. “From where?”

“Hard to say. I’m going to be dispatching some of our local Sentinels soon to confirm or deny these rumours.”

Bariye piped up. “All said, a counteroffensive is in order. I suspect keeping the Bridges closed may be exactly what the Colossus wants.”

Crasina nodded. “Those are my thoughts, as well. We should’ve seen another strike at one of the Bridge stations by now if they wanted a full-scale invasion.”

“What about Jurole?” Bakos pondered aloud.

They all turned to look at him. There was a pregnant pause.

Vel Astranos was the first to pose the counter-question. “What about it?”

Bakos continued his thought. “What if we opened the Jurole Bridge? It would certainly go towards sating the appetites of both the Collective in Solomon and the Concordians.”

Crasina did not agree. “Out of the question for now. We have confirmed enemy boots on the ground at Jurole. Unless Warmaster Oswell is willing to risk a liberation…”

Now was their turn to all look at him. Adrian shook off the sleep that had been creeping up on him.

“Well, Warmaster?” Bariye’s soothing, warm voice made him want to sleep again. “Are you up to the challenge?”

Adrian straightened in his seat and clasped his fingers. “Always ready to do what needs to be done. Though my Special Missions Division aboard the Kodiak is looking a little light. I’ll have to grab a few more operators before I head out.”

Farris nodded. “I have a few extra Sentinels to account for. I’ll transfer them to you once I’ve followed up on these rumours.”

“I will assist you as well. I will bring the Prizati to Jurole with you and provide Commander Briggs with reinforcement,” Bariye put in.

Adrian bowed slightly, saluting with his fist over his heart. “Much appreciated, Monitor, Guardian Vigilant. I’ll need the help if we’re to retake Jurole.”

“So," Bakos began, "it’s settled then?”

They all looked around at each other. Crasina nodded.

“I see no issues here, as long as you’re all up to the task. I hope you’re satisfied with this, Consul. We are adjourned for now.”

The leaders of the Vanguard began getting up and leaving the Command & Control Centre, one by one, though Crasina remained. She had work to do here.

Adrian shuffled through the halls of Hyperion base, lazily making his way to his quarters whilst sifting through mission reports and operator files, pondering just what the Colossus was doing in Jurole right now.

And whether or not they were already in Solomon.

* * *

* * *

- Location: Shipping Lane near Tyche, Tychean Space, Solomon System -

“Ah, shit.”

Ben Cragley was stuck.

Again.

The Margaret hadn’t been faring too well recently. She was long overdue for a full refitting at Tyche’s shipyards.

Ben checked his consoles. Power was still at full, and all systems were nominal, save for the engines, which had shut down when an anomaly was detected. The Jazekii reset the engine systems from the engineering console, waiting for a status update upon reboot.

He wished he had his crewmates back. This would be a lot easier if Jatley was around. Currently vacationing outside Solomon, he hoped they were okay and hadn’t been steamrolled by the Colossus.

The console blinked a message, announcing that the reboot had completed. Checking engine status once again, the anomaly was still present.

Letting out a grunt of exasperation, Ben got up and started to make his way aft, toward the engineering centre. Finding the nearest console, he once again checked engine status, and again found that an anomaly had been detected. Sighing, Ben started a full system scan and sat back, waiting for it to finish.

It’d been awhile since he’d last left Solomon to deliver goods to some far-flung Concord planet. He’d barely made it back into Solomon, his ship barely limping towards Tyche for repairs after the Colossus has smashed her up good. He was lucky enough to have smashed them up a bit, too.

Fifteen minutes later, the system scan had finished with a faint ping. Sitting forward, Ben scanned over the console’s report. From what he could make out, some of the internal wiring inside the engine’s main bus was shot, sending a feedback loop of errors and preventing the engines from firing out of safety.

Oh, what a day it was. Or night. He was in space.

Unfortunately, this was something his drones would be unable to fix. Pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut, Ben lamented the outdated systems of his ship. He ought to get some internal repair bots the next time he visited the robotics market in Agathos. Or maybe just go for that full refit the Margaret so desperately needed.

Stalking back up to the bridge, Ben activated the distress beacon, sat back in his command chair, clasping his hands together on his chest, and waited.

* * *

* * *

- Location: Bounty Office, Agathos, Tyche, Solomon System -

Horseradish and cornmeal, she decided, slamming back another shot of H’gar as the aliens around her cheered.

That’s what it tastes like. Horseradish and cornmeal.

The crowd around her booed and dispersed when she waved off another shot, but she’d already had six, and she wanted to keep at least a few wits about her. Sabina motioned to the bartender and ordered a whiskey sour, intending to nurse it slowly enough so that she might pick on whatever wannabe wandered up to the bar. Amateur hunters were pretty commonplace by the bar area of the Bounty Office, as it served a familiar locale for those intending to whet their appetite with both some liquid courage and possibly their first bounty.

It also turned off others who came in expecting a real office and found a bunch of rowdy aliens singing and yelling and drinking at a ramshackle bar. You had to know someone or at least order a drink with one of the pros to get going. Some knew as much, others didn’t. The latter didn’t last very long.

Her drink arrived and she took a cautious sip, savouring the smokiness of the particular whiskey the bartender enjoyed using. Life was fairly good here, for those who wished to forget about the hunt for a while. But Sabina had work to do, and patiently waited for the next amateur to wander up to the seats next to her.

* * *

* * *

- Location: Passchendaele’s Residence, Pysaita Tower, Ipsum, Hyperion, Solomon System -

Thomas sat alone by the fireplace in his house, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window, watching other beings mill about the seventy-eighth floor’s concourse, some returning to their own houses, the giant pillar in the centre of the building obscuring the setting sun and allowing him to gaze out the giant windows of the seventy-eighth floor at the wondrous colors of the evening.

Despite all this beauty, Thomas was bored, sitting here on Hyperion. He wanted to be up above, in space, aboard the Peregrine, gazing at the stars as they warped and blueshifted in front of his vessel. He wanted to gaze at faraway planets, be in the midst of danger, and just [i[explore[/i].

With the Bridges closed, there was nowhere to go but inward and around. Maybe to Dökkálfar, maybe to Karkinos, maybe, maybe, maybe.

No, he wanted to be out there, on the frontier.

What is the furthest system from Solomon? he asked himself.

Hammurabi and Icel, the neuranet answered.

Hammurabi or Icel… each five Bridges from Solomon. Hammurabi was right near the border of Conclave space. Perhaps there was something interesting out there, just waiting to be discovered.

Thus, Thomas began planning and plotting. As soon as he was able. He was headed straight for Hammurabi. A grand voyage. He just needed a complement of guests.

Well, an invitation may be in order, then.

* * *

* * *

- Location: Ipsum Gardens, Ipsum, Hyperion, Solomon System -

Yaliti wandered the gardens, sketching whatever happened to cross his mind, hoping that a Jazekii or a Kraian didn’t step on him while he laboured on his pad.

A tree here, a bush there, a gaggle of Kyrema… all coming together as Yaliti’s stylus danced across the screen, shades of colour appearing and fading into the white and black streaks of his artwork.

Once, someone of his talent would have painted glorious watercolours of virtuous Viveni soldiers and heroes, standing amidst the carnage and bloodied bodies of their enemies.

Such was the Viveni way once. It wasn’t too long ago that the great Collective had been absent from Viveni affairs and thus the warring continued ceaselessly. Now, there could be ones of his species that were not soldiers - but great chefs, artists, or explorers.

Explorers… the little Viveni wondered what weird worlds might be waiting out beyond the splendour of the Collective’s now contained capital. He wondered who or what might just be waiting in the Trema System, at the mysterious and unstable three-way border between galactic powers.

Perhaps one day, he would paint the oddities of Styx…

Yaliti lapsed into thought, distracted by his imagination.

* * *

* * *

- Location: Ipsum Planetarium, Ipsum, Hyperion, Solomon System -

The planets were always pretty to look at.

Directly, Sev mused, not quite in the Planetarium. Looking at the real thing was always better.

Wafting from security camera to terminal to terminal, and back to camera, Sev fleetingly perused his home, on the lookout for anything of interest to occupy his ever-calculating mind.

* * *

[Brocktree]

"Hrrgh... Six!"

It was his first time on solomon since passing through here as a formality during his initial induction as a sentinel. He was not particularly fond of the planet- it was crawling with xenos. He missed the rolling hills and valleys of appalachia, and more than that he missed when everyone had two arms and two legs. It was also incredibly annoying that the vast majority of workout equipment in the sentinel gym was designed for some really funky physiology.

"Hrrrgh... Se-ven!"

That's not to say it was all bad. The other sentinels, for the most part, had a similar outlook among all species it seemed. This meant that the xenos he specifically worked with weren't that bad. And some of the other human members of the vanguard stationed in the complex were able to point him to areas that were frequented mostly by humans. But still, he always eventually got tired of the urban local he was stationed in. He could only take so much polite tolerance before desiring to go somewhere where he could speak freely.

"Huh-grrrrrrr..... EIGHT!"

With a sigh, his shaking arms slowly set the weight back on its stand, and he sat up. For three months the sentinels had had him off the active APRCOM roster; supposedly it was against regulations to keep putting an operator on ops back to back. He hated regulations, and was tired of pumping iron in this fucking gym. And he could only read so many medical journals on kyremian chemical complications before he wanted to throw the tablet against the wall.

He slowly made his way into the sentinel's shared lounge- empty at the time being. He hadn't even bothered to towel off, he merely sat his sweaty ass down and tried to contemplate what to do with the OTHER 22 hours in the day.

[Perpenheimer]

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

Farris vel Astranos reclined in his seat, his office empty and quiet. Turning an old Krai totem around in his hand, he gazed up at the floating images in his mind, supplied neatly by his implants feeding the data into the optical processing part of his brain. Casually flicking through the files of in-system operators.

This was an interesting one. Catella, Atellus. Incredibly young, but with a very impressive service record for his age. Aberrant psychological profile. Probably why he was kept here, on-base, for so long. Specializing in field medicine...

The Kraian set the totem down on his desk, watching it wobble slightly before coming to a still rest. Returning his attention to the file, he thumbed his chin, thinking.

APRCOM. Yes, perhaps it would be time to test his mettle outside of patching up wounded assets.

He telepathically brought up a direct message line to the young medic.

‘Sentinel Catella,’ it read, ‘please report to my office immediately.’

[Brocktree]

Atellus visibly flinched- fortunately, no one was around to see it. He hated these neural implants; hated them worst of all and more than anything. On multiple occasions he had attempted to come up with ways to disable them- but to no avail. He pointedly fished out his hand held net interface and brought up the chat. He activated the comm and merely said "Right away sir."

All his grievances took the back burner to expectation. Without a doubt, he was going to finally be sent out on mission again- and he was ready. With practiced ease he made his way to his room and quickly got out of civvies and into duty uniform. He left his kit staged by the door where it always was, but he holstered the pistol he always carried in uniform- loaded but with no round in the chamber.

Within 15 minutes, he politely knocked on Vel Astrano's door and entered without waiting for acknowledgement. He fiddled with the vanguard sigil pinned to the side of his field cap as he came in, obviously anxious to hear what the sentinel monitor had to say. Skipping the formalities, he nodded deferentially. "Vel Astranos, what can i do for you this fine day?" he says this plainly, expectantly, but not unkindly- his normal disdain for the other species of the collective absent as usual around his fellow sentinels.

[Tenslashsix]

Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System

Sym floats through the station flitting from data point, to roaming carried tabs, oftimes simply lounging in the open air data streams that are so pervasive. Should have done this a long time ago. So easy to collect research when knowledge exists as a vast interconnected signal. He has learned quite a bit about inter-species relations observing the vanguard. Moving past a physical training station Sym catches sight of a rather quaint human.

Data-Log:108223:Human--Male:Physical Condition--Peaktmoded neural overlay--no access:::Curiously this human insists on using the hand held net interface. Even with his out-of-date neuralink he should be capable of interlink communication:::Further study--recommended.

Sym follows the human into a rest area from the training station. Humans are always an interesting species to catalog. Often creatures of habit but with extraordinary ability for adaptation. Data-Log:108223-1:Sub-par Hygiene:Verbal Comms:Research--ongoing.

The doctor follows the human male through the station until after changing into formal uniform he arrives outside the office of Monitor Farris. This is as far as he tracks the man. No reason to raise the ire of the Monitor by eavesdropping. Sym scans around for another human to observe until his current research returns. Data-Log:108223-2:Research--Delay(Command Structure):Infolog.

Symacchus still follows protocol. There is an ephemeral comfort to his own routines. Observe, research, catalog, store data. Such a peaceful and serene existence and yet even he feels the need for assignment. Maybe he will contact the Monitor soon as well. Surely Vel Astranos could put him to use.

[Perpenheimer]

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

@Brocktree

Farris frowned as the Human entered his office.

"You're missing a 'Monitor' and a 'Sir' in that sentence, Sentinel Catella. Mind your protocol, please."

He scratched his chin for a moment before motioning to the empty SuperForm chair in front of him.

"Have a seat."

[Drakey]

Tony walked across the mid deck of his ship. His partner, Mandrin, was standing at the ship’s helm while Serpent, herself, piloted the ship. Her black mass stretched along for 300 meters. Her hangar bays, stretches of steel that sat along her bottom edge, had been slung open shortly before. His drones, most of which were battle drones floated next to the Serpent lazily, but a few of them were mining and scavenging drones. With the Serpent parked right next to a small asteroid, she was busy mining away at the space rock.

Walking down the ship’s hall, Tony’s jacket swayed behind him. His gloves stretched as he cracked his knuckles. Irritation was plainly painted onto his face as his black boots walked over the dark grey floors. His eyes, red with cybernetic circuitry, stared out unblocked, his long hair having been tied back already. His right arm refused to flex as he stretched his muscles. It was metal after all, and metal does not flex. Instead, the red circuitry that laid beneath his skin flashed as he walked. Reaching the doors to the flight deck, Tony shouted.

“Serpent! What the hell!” His deep voice reverberated off the walls as he tugged on his gloves. “Tiberius sent a message several hours ago. Why the hell didn’t you call for me? He was supposed to give us another job. What the hell am I supposed to do if he decides to give the job to some other half-assed mercenary because I was asleep?”

Taken aback, Serpent responded, her face appearing on the ship’s main monitor. “Drauger, You have been working with Tiberius and his father for the past thirty years. Tiberius has always given you preferential treatment when it comes to jobs. As such I thought that it wouldn’t matter whether or not you were awake for him.”

Irritation covered Tony’s face as Serpent responded. “Doesn’t matter anymore, patch me into Tiberius. That kid better pick up the phone.”

Mandrin just sighed as he heard the back and forth between Tony and Serpent. He knew that Tony didn’t actually give a shit whether or not he was up when Tiberius called. The captain just wasn’t a morning person. As such, his outbursts after he gets up are usually ignored between the ship and Mandrin.

[Brocktree]

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

Atellus scowled. He and any other red blooded operator considered protocol beneath them- an archaic tradition reserved for grunts who needed its structure in their life. He couldn't decide on whether to chalk it up to Vel Astranos' age or being krai. As he sat, he settled on both. Out of habit and also to conceal his annoyance, he carefully mounted his field cap on his knee like it was also part of the conversation.

[Perpenheimer]

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

@Brocktree

"Well then," Farris began, after the Sentinel had taken his seat, "I see it's been awhile since your last assignment. How have you been managing at the base in the meantime?"

The Kraian was genuinely curious; aberrant as his psychological profile was, and as much disdain for protocol he had, there was a cheerfulness to the man that Farris might've envied if he were a little younger, a little more uptight and regimented. Age had loosened his collar a bit.

In any case, he was anxious to get that scowl off of Catella's face, and eager to hear what he'd been up to in the intervening months.

[Brocktree]

Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System

Atellus put a hand to his face as if pondering, but really he was trying to decide how he could spin 3 months of essentially banging his head against the wall of boredom. None of the people he had worked with were here, and beyond that, most sentinels were generally abroad on mission. This meant that barring support staff and high ranking officers, the sentinel compound was generally empty.

"Oh, well, you know. Keeping us with new drugs and new studies on each species' physiology. Working out, hitting the range. I've kept so busy that i haven't really had much time to explore solomon." after a pause he add a "sir" as an afterthought. Might as well appease the old goat. Especially since he was attempting to distract him from the bald face lie that he had been busy- in actuality he was itching to go back to the front. Without so much as a soul he was close to here, he had nothing really getting him out of the house so to speak.

And so before the monitor could inquire more, he tried to change that subject. "How about you, sir? Im sure they have been keeping you busy on the war front, huh?"

[Perpenheimer]

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

@Brocktree

The old Kraian actually laughed. Out loud. He finished his laughter with a melancholy chuckle and a sigh.

"Yes, yes, I've been cooped up here. Bickering with the other Vanguard superiors, as usual. Maybe one day I'll leave desk duty, but not for a while now, not until the Bridges open up again."

Sitting up in chair, and snapping back to attention, he continued. "Anyway, to business. I believe I have an assignment for you, Sentinel Catella. Have you ever been to the base on Lomar?"

[Brocktree]

Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System

Atellus raised an eyebrow. "No, but i've heard plenty of sentinels who were in before the war talk about vanguard training exercises done surface side. Supposed to be really shitty, since with no atmosphere all field ops not done in armor are done in suits." he folds his arms. "So you're either sending me there to train for a no atmosphere op; Or, there is a second as of yet undisclosed purpose to the Lomar base."

[Perpenheimer]

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

@Brocktree

Farris chuckled again. "No, don't presume. I was just wondering if you were personally familiar with the Jíufeng planetary system."

He scratched an itch behind his ear. "Unless you feel you require more zero-atmos training. This operation is a simple personnel-grab mission on Nessus. As one of the few APRCOM operators we currently have on-site, I felt you were best suited to this mission. You will need a pressure suit and comms package, so if you do require requisite training, you'll report to Lomar Base first."

He paused for a beat, letting that sink in. "Do you feel you are able to carry out this mission, Sentinel? Do you have any questions?"

[Brocktree]

Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System

Unlike the more common special operations, recovery could not be meticulously rehearsed- operators conducting it underwent general competency training but beyond that, everything on the ground started and ended there.

He shifted in his seat, thinking about what had just been said. He felt it rather strange that they actually had someone they needed extracted in solomon. Pulling out his hand held net interface, he started looking up Nessus before asking "Will there be any support personnel available? And am i flying commercial or naval space-A?"

He skipped a beat before answering the other question. "Of course. Whether or not i succeed depends on your intel though."

[Perpenheimer]

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

@Brocktree

"There is little risk of failure in this mission, as we have all the intel needed. You will be conducting ground operations on your own. It's just a simple extraction, though you will be escorted and supported from the air by a shuttle."

He paused, taking a calm breath, before continuing with the details.

"Your target is a male Kyrem, age six-hundred fifty-four. Codename 'Alleonis'. You will be conducting call-and-response to verify identity prior to extraction. Call is 'Greylink,' response is 'Arbitration.' Meeting point is two-hundred metres outside the main airlock doors of Mine 10-36B on Nessus at eighteen-hundred hours, Ipsum time.

"You have the rest of today to prepare. Select any gear that you feel you need; though we expect no resistance, so keep it light. Remember to take a pressure suit. You will arrive five minutes early to the extraction point, and extract Alleonis once call-and-response is complete.

"Report to Captain Pinalo tomorrow at oh-five-hundred. She will escort you aboard Patrol Craft Sabre for transit to Nessus. You will be then be escorted to the surface via shuttlecraft, and spacewalk to the meeting point while the shuttle pilots provide air support. Following call-and-response, signal to the shuttle and you and Alleonis will be extracted to the Sabre for transit back to Hyperion. You will report to Captain Pinalo first, before contacting me. Keep an eye on Alleonis during transit back to Hyperion. When you arrive back at the Base, the mission will be concluded."

Farris took another breath before leaning back in his chair. "Is that all clear, Sentinel Catella?"

[Brocktree]

Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System

Atellus stood up, grabbing his field cap amd slapping it open against his hand. "Roger that sir, too easy." He cant remember the last time he had a briefing so short and sweet as this. "If thats all you have sir then i would like to go prepare so i can get a little shuteye in later." He said, wondering personally why they had him doing such a routine extraction that, all in all, felt like something the spook's in house goons should be able to handle. He wondered what he wasn't being told, but knew better than to push the point.

[Perpenheimer]

- Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System -

@Brocktree

Farris stood as well, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Yes, yes, go right ahead. You're going to need the sleep."

He moved his left hand to the front, making a fist over his heart in a salute.

"Good luck, Sentinel Catella. And be sure to contact me immediately if any situation occurs."

[Tenslashsix]

Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System

Data-log:108223-3:Facial Recognition-Sentinel Atellus Catella:::Much more purpose to his stride since his visit with the Monitor. Interesting. Chance to observe the Sentinel in active duty:::Research--active observation(possible contact):Infolog.

Symacchus begins following Atellus waiting for an opportunity in private to contact him. He knows the man does not appreciate using the neural link so he bides his time. Soon enough the Sentinel will be back at his bunk and then he can ask to observe his mission.

[Brocktree]

Location: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System

Atellus returned the salute, nodded differentially, and left without another word.

His mind was racing. This SOUNDED like a milk run- which made him nervous. An agent extraction like this rarely happened unless they were compromised. There were exceptions- but he had never been fortunate enough to have any of them. One detail had not failed to make an impression on him: keep an eye on alleonis on the way back. Maintain positive control, eh? He would do it the old fashioned APRCOM way then.

He checked off his internal list of pre mission preparations: supply, comms, logistics, intel, security. Intel and logistics were already handled, and a comms plan would have to be coordinated with captain Pinalo in the morning. That left security, and supply. Obviously he was the security, but it bothered him that all he would have to rely on was his own two eyes. He would need to see what could be done about getting someone with satellite access to keep an eye on his surroundings.

He walked into the quartermaster's office and silently started filling out a requisition hand receipt. The old kyrem eyed him and his "sentinel" tab warily. After a couple minutes he walked over and presented it to the Quartermaster. From behind his desk, the Quartermaster sighed and said "Alright, lets take it from the top, shall we? Number 1, Jet assisted air assault pack, 10 liter variant." behind him an assistant comes in through the door, struggling with the large jetpack, and gingerly sets it on the counter; The poor supply clerk then rushes back into the warehouse. The kyrem clears his throat and moves on. "A full combat load of KNS type 21 ammo as well as coilmag ammo." Another supply clerk. The boxes are put on the table, and then they disappear. "An ultra lightweight 4 wheel all terrain buggy... And a recovery suite for it? Fucking sentinel, where am i delivering this to?"

"Patrol craft saber." he replies shortly. The old Quartermaster grumbles but annotates it and mumbles something; probably to someone on the other end of a neuranet call. He finally turns his attention back to Atellus. "Okay, finally... What the... 10 grams of hyderaphin? Are you authorized that?" He was plainly surprised- the kyrenian sedative was rather powerful, and usually ordered in doses of 10's of milligrams. But it was common practice for APRCOM to keep a recovery sedated until they were home, so ordering large amounts of sedative wasnt out of the ordinary. Evidently, this Quartermaster was not familiar with them.

Atellus smiled, and said "You've got your neuranet open. Can you pull me up?" It was silent for about a minute before he heard an annoyed "No." Atellus grinned hawkishly, taking somewhat perverse pleasure in messing with the bureaucratic kyrem. The quartermaster sighed, and said "You want that delivered to the saber too?" Atellus nodded. The quartermaster set the hand receipt aside, and sent atellus a request for his digital signature; to which he took out his hand held and completed it, ignoring his implants. The kyrem brusquely turned away from him, and Atellus gathered up his equipment.

After a fifteen minute trip back to his room, and set down his gear and started setting up his kit. He detached the surgical kit from his back and put the jetpack there. Then, raiding it for the essentials (tourniquets, painkillers, chest tube and intra-osseous kits as well as the collective universal bandage) he put them in pouches on the side of his legs. A bit bulky, but less heavy than the surgical kit. Finally, he put his ammo in their pouches and function-tested the extra-atmospheric capabilities.

He laid down on his bunk- 2300. He sighed, for such was this life. He would have to get up at 0400 to make the meeting with captain Pinalo. With that in mind, he sat there and stared at the ceiling, anxious about his lack of concrete info and lack of tangible support. Who could he possibly get on six hours notice to run overwatch for him?

[Ghosthands]

[LOCATION: Hyperion Base, Hyperion, Solomon System]

Kyuzo didn't mind waiting. Patience was a virtue that came easily to AIs.

His robotic chassis was seated by a wide window on one of Hyperion Base's observation decks, basking in the sunlight as his optical sensors took in the vista. This level was high enough to provide a view beyond the lip of the crater in which the base was situated: green rolling hills, grey mountains, and the white spires and urban sprawls of Hyperion's megacities. It was all quite beautiful, even to a machine. Idly, he ran the mountains through his image analysis routines, calculating their similarity to those of other worlds in Collective survey records.

He'd received the notification from command hours ago:

[BEGIN PRELIMINARY BRIEF, recipient ARC-309]: operatives required for SPECIAL MISSIONS DIVISION. Potential deployment, COMBAT type. Directive: STAND BY for further instructions. [END BRIEF]

So here he was, awaiting further instructions, plugged into a power outlet to top up his batteries and letting his processors tick over by admiring the view.

Tranquility was perhaps not a quality you'd expect in a soldier awaiting combat deployment — or in a combat droid, for that matter. But that was Kyuzo for you.