Dialogue, dialogue, dialogue.
It feels like scriptfic.
Also, something that seemed like a cool idea. But most definitely not 'canon' (Unless requested). Big Friggan Gundam doesn't just redline the cool meter, it goes right through it and spins around the other side. But it's a fun moment.
Shinji piloting a GAT-105X defending somewhere against a raid. Why? Because I just finished building one.
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--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
It feels like scriptfic.
Quote:Jet arrived at the control room with something under her arm. Her rollerblades whined as she glided across the floor, coming to a halt beside Anika. The android was buried in her work. not noticing Jet’s approach until her reflection loomed up in the monitor.
Anika started, catching her breath a half-second later.
“I can’t believe you still went ahead with morning training.”
“It helps clear my head,” Jet answered with a smile.
Scratches and dents still covered the self-healing plastic crash-padding she wore. Restrictors hissed as she moved, placing the object on desk between two monitors. It was a standard mail drone, with a cargo compartment in it’s midsection. She tugged a USB key out of her ear, and plugged it into the drone.
It clicked, then popped open.
“I spoke with Shinji,” Anika said.
“Oh?”
“I did what I said I would. I told him where we both came from and what he was. I spoke to him like he was an android.” She took a breath. “He was pretty calm about it. He thinks that we’re either telling the truth, or that it’s a fantasy created by his mind because the real world is too horrible.”
Jet looked at her.
“He told me that he’d prefer it was a fantasy,” Anika said. “But at least, he’s open to the idea of this being real.”
A lightning bolt of inspiration struck the cyber.
“Because if it was a fantasy, he could wake up from it. He’d rather be on that beach, then here.”
“Frigga might be a bit lonely, but it’s a hell of a lot better than where he thinks he came from. What kind of life would that be?”
“I don’t know,” said Jet, a worried expression crawling across her features. She glanced at the monitors in front of her. “I don’t know why he’d rather live there.”
Anika looked up at her, pondering a moment before a flickering light demanded her attention. Jet plugged something from the drones bay into her earr
Anika punched a few keys on the panel. The light went out moments later.
She exhaled a sigh. “That’s another thing. Attacks on our network have gone up lately since news of Shinji started getting out. A lot of people are curious about him.” Her face curled up into a frown. “And some are less than scrupulous about getting their information.”
Jet didn’t seem too worried.
“Anybody get anything?”
Anika scowled at her, eyes beaming daggers in her direction. “I thought you’d have more faith in me than that!”
Jet raised her metal arms in surrender. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You better!” Anika smirked at her, a playful gleam in her eyes. “What’s hitting us is amateur grade stuff anyway, nothing I can’t handle,” Her chest inflated with pride, expanding to accommodate her growing ego. It was nothing at all before the might of the flame-haired cyber-warrior.
“Don’t tempt fate,” Jet warned. “Anyway, you know I sent Shinji’s spec’s off to A.C, right?”
Anika nodded. “Unh,”
“She built up a frame to those specifications. She figured out how to modify your systems to overcome Flint’s little glitch,” A smile crept across her lips, “It looks pretty straightforward,”
Anika’s face lit up. “Really?” It took her mind a few moments catch up with what that implied. “Can you do it here?”
“Isn’t that why we built Shinji?”
“Just think, I can get properly angry at people and not be perpetually afraid of fainting like an idiot mid-rant. I can finally let it all out. I can soak in a hot-tub without feeling like my mind is turning to treacle... I can....”
She stopped dead in her tracks. The cheer drained out of her face.
“What?”
“I just realised. If Shinji hadn’t tripped out yesterday, I don’t know how I would’ve calmed him down.” Her voice shrunk back down into her throat. She smiled wanly. “I never thought that feature’d do something good,”
“We’ll, I’ll have to study this a little bit more but I should be able to do this whenever you want me to.”
Anika was twirling her hair between her fingers, “I’m just thinking about doing it with Shinji.”
Jet visibly fought to suppress a snigger.
“Pfft, Dirty minds,” Anika huffed.
“Freudian slip?”
“No!”
Exocomps outside winced. She was on her feet, arms folded across her chest, glaring as hard as she could manage.
“I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.”
Anika rolled her eyes. Clearly she would have to be the more mature person. She sat herself back down with a huff.
“Now that I think of it, It might be a good idea to have A.C. do Shinji’s modifications,” Jet said after waiting a few moments.” I’ll be heading out there anyway in a couple of weeks to get my hardware serviced and it’ll do him good to get off of here.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Anika said, gently. She kept her arms folded across her chest, protecting herself.
“I understand, but I’d like to get another pair of eyes on him anyway and make sure he’s put together right. Many eyes make shallow bugs and all that.” She took a breath. “It’s worth it for peace of mind at least.”
“I guess.” Anika sighed.
Jet plucked something from the drone’s bay, carefully inspecting it in her hands.
“Micro-projector?”
Jet nodded. “A.C. sent it for Shinji.”
“Going to run it down to him?”
She thought about it.
“No..... Let him come an get it here, make him leave the apartment. I’ll find a USB key and add the message archive to that too.”
Anika gave her an aside glance. “You aren’t avoiding him, are you?”
Jet nodded. “I’ll just bother him like the last time. ”
“What about the puppet?”
Obviously.
“That’s resting in Ford’s bed right now.” A beat. “And it’d only confuse him,”
“Resting?” Anika spocked an eyebrow.
“Ford’s working with the new Exocomps,.
She held up a single finger, “Ah.”
She tapped at a few keys. The console in front of her emitted is a sharp electronic chirp. ‘TITANIC is syncing’ came up in flickering green characters on the monitor in front of her, followed by a scrolling list of each individual node in the system as the update spread out among them.
“The update to the client’s finished at least. It’s ready for the Paranoia LARP on Saturday.”
“Good,” said Jet, her expression going firm.
“I’m sure they’d understand if we postponed it.”
“We can’t afford to,” Jet stated. “They’d understand alright. They’d also want their deposit back, and we’ve already spent that on those exocomps.”
The scrolling continued, a few individual lines highlighted in red for an instant as they flickered past.
“Some of the Exocomps didn’t like the update.... as usual.”
“Send me the redlist and I’ll reboot them manually, I’ve some time to kill before the Piano movers get here.”
Anika mailed the list with a few keystrokes. “Piano movers?”
“Yayoi sent a piano,” Jet explained. “There’s two cellos on the way along witha few gigabytes of music on that holoprojector, all classical.” A grin spread across Jet’s face. “I’m going to have to throw in some real classics into there.”
“Like what?”
Anika was almost afraid.
“A little Pink Floyd for one thing.”
“He’s messed up enough as it is!”
“Hah!” Jet barked. “Well there’s no accounting for taste. Some just have none I guess.”
Anika pursed her lips into a sour pout, sticking her tongue out. Jet gave her a mollifying smile. The console creaked out a protest as the cyber leant back against it.
“Speaking of music.” she took a deep breath, “Noah recommended a professional psychiatrist.”
“Oh?”
Anika looked oddly worried.
“I’m thinking of contacting her.”
Jet sounded almost like she was fishing for someone to talk her into it.
“You know it’s what he needs,” Anika answered.
Jet just nodded.
TITANIC continued to work, while both of them waited for the other to speak.
Jet broke the silence first. “Call me an idiot. But, this is making me feel like a fool who can’t even look after one kid.”
The undercurrent of frustration in her voice was plainly obvious.
“If you can’t put aside personal pride for the sake of a boy who needs help, then you are an idiot.”
Anika’s expression was firm.
Jet sighed, “I know.”
He armour scratched as she crossed her legs. She was turning it over in her mind. It wasn’t quite as simple as that. Survival Shot’s business relied on their collective reputations to operate and reputation was a finnicky thing.
Especially amongst the anonymous commentators on the darker parts of the interwave who didn’t have to worry about the consequences of their opinions.
“I’ll contact her,”
Jet’s voice seemed to have shrunk back down inside her armour
“Who is she?”
“Kat Avins. She lives on Grovers,” Jet said. “I met her once when I was a courier, about ten years ago.”
“Oh. What’s she like?”
Jet shrugged her shoulders again, “I asked her for directions to where Mikuru was staying and that was it.”
“Oh.” She thought for a moment, putting her finger to her lips. “So she probably doesn’t know about us then?”
“No,” Jet shook her head, before folding her arms across her chest. “And Marsden shouldn’t either.”
The implication was obvious.
“So we’re moving the Knightwing?”
“Yeah, I’ll have Mackie fly it and our hardware to the Raven’s Garage.”
“And the SilkyDoll?”
Jet stretched her body out, yawning. “Well,” she smirked, “We’re entitled to a little private place to relax, aren’t we?”
“Naturally,”
-------
Also, something that seemed like a cool idea. But most definitely not 'canon' (Unless requested). Big Friggan Gundam doesn't just redline the cool meter, it goes right through it and spins around the other side. But it's a fun moment.
Quote:“Outer hatch seven is open!”
“Let me go out! Let me fight!”
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“What is that?”
“It’s a Gunda...” The transmission was cut off by a scream, then hissed to static.
----
The music was playing. A single violin.
Target in the centre, pull the switch. The railgun thumped, a shock travelling through the mecha’s frame. Shinji felt the shudder through his seat. A moment later, the target spacecraft disintegrated into a puffball of expanding gas and debris.
It didn’t have time to register. Alarms in the cockpit blared warnings at him. With a rebel’s yell he gripped at the throttles, jinking the mech hard to his right. It’s engines howled. Starburst flares spat from launchers on the feet and on the wingtips. Missiles burst against the decoys, jinking and spiralling through clouds of chaff and debris.
A few made it through, tracked by the 105’s sensors and relayed onto the onboard displays.
A kick from the vernier thrusters turned the machine to his left, pirouetting in open space. Shinji brought the shield up. The remain missiles splashed against it, scorching the surface. The outer layers cracked and spalled off.
Shinji raised the railgun, aiming for the spacecraft that’d fired on him. It was squat and black, malevolant looking with a red glow from it’s engines. It was faceless and smoking, spitting sparks of bullets. He centred the targeting reticle on it.
Target in the centre, pull the switch.
This one spiralled, leaving a corkscrew contrail.
“Archangel one, Archangel one this is Brown Leader. We’ll keep those fighters off your back., Just concentrate on the leaders.”
“This is Archangel. I copy.”
Still 4:41 on the batteries. Twenty seconds had seemed like an eternity. Cockpit temperature was negative twenty Celsius and Shinji still felt scalding hot inside. It was already starting to climb. Radiator panels in the wings were already reaching the top of the green zone.
Shinji clamped his mask tight to his face, breathing deep of the refrigerated air.
Alerts flickered up on his monitor, warning of a jammed actuator in the right wing, sticking it at a positive forty-five degree angle to the usual horizontal reference line. Damage? he thought at first. No, probably just failed on it’s own.
A quick adjustment of the left wing compensated for the fault.
Another attacker dove on him from above, riding a column of arc-light as it accelerated towards him. Instinctively, he covered the mecha’s head with it’s shield. Coilgun darts splashed against it, armour layers abrading away. Stray rounds pattered against the shoulders and wings.
More alarms warned of coolant spraying from the right wing radiators and the permanently unused hardpoint on the right shoulder. He had just enough time to train his railgun on it before three missile slammed into his attackers fuselage. It cracked open like an egg full of white gas and tinfoil.
“Archangel, Brown Leader, Sorry we missed that one.”
“That’s okay.” Shinji managed to transmit back, before realising it didn’t sound very proper at all.
Everything was moving outside. Darting and diving. Pitching and rolling. Four big transports slogged along beneath a veil of CIWS and point-defence missiles, escorted by at least two squadrons of enemy fighters.
A fifth straggler was split through the middle by sustained gunfire. It buckled and crumpled, the atmosphere inside bursting out and breaking it’s back. Shinji recognised the cruciform engines of the Dragon Wagon driving straight through between both halves of the wreck.
“This is the Wagon. This is the Wagon. We got one of the transports but we’re out of ammo.”
Mackie’s voice. Shinji thumbed open a comm-link automatically.
“This is Archangel. I’m coming at you.”
“Just keep those fighters off our back for a minute. Try and draw them off the transports.”
He thrusted towards the cruiser. 4:23 left on the batteries. He saw an old Blackbird trailing smoke from one of it’s engines, being harassed by a single enemy Swordfish. Target in the centre, pull the switch. The Gundam’s software did the rest.
The attacker broke off with a hole through it’s wing trailing vapour.
“Good shooting!” someone called out over the comm-net. It brought a brief smile to his face.
Cockpit temperature was starting to edge above zero degrees. Battery thermal gauges were well into the yellow zone. One of the field guide vanes for the vernier thrusters had taken a hit. It was still running, but was down on power.
The armour on the shield was depolarising in places. Some plating had come off his legs. The radiators in the right wing had drained entirely and one of his hydraulic systems was loosing pressure fast. There were still three other circuits, the port wing was undamaged. And that plating always fell off under heavy maneuvering.
He was gasping for air, struggling to keep himself cool. Space was whirling around him while alerts clamoured for his rapidly diminishing intelligence. He jinked the Gundam out of the way of another incoming salvo. Brown 3 killed the attacker. Another three were diving down from above...
Was it just him, or was everyone suddenly concentrating on him?
“Archangel, Archangel. Good work. Keep drawing their attention we’re making a run to capture the lead ship.”
Jet’s voice confirmed everything he suspected. He was too hopped up on whatever the artificial intelligence equivalent of adrenaline to care. This was a bad idea. This had been a bad idea.
Another round of missile warnings confirmed that suspicion too.
A quick glance at the display beside him told him what suspiciously apropos music the computer had chosen. It was 40 seconds into Bach’s Air on a G-String.
He caught two missiles on the shield and one on the leg, and cursed not being able to turn something that morbid and creepy off. The shield’s armour depolarised and began it’s recharge countdown while for the first time in years he wished he’d been in an entry plug.
Another Swordfish was diving onto an attack run.
Target in the centre. Pull the switch.
Shinji piloting a GAT-105X defending somewhere against a raid. Why? Because I just finished building one.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?