Down the deck, a VTOL's engines finally spool down, set against grey skies and an oddly calm sea. But you barely notice, hunched over your tablet, its faint blue glow lighting your face. The same fifty pages of survey logs. The same reports of probes swallowed by the storm. Minutes of noisy telemetry. Fragments of images. Then nothing. Again and again, your eyes hunt for the detail you are sure to have missed.Eventually, approaching footsteps pull your attention up from the screen.
The Major. Red hair pulled back, freckles prominent in the harsh deck lighting. She's composed, as always, but there's something softer in her eyes when she looks at you."Are you still struggling with the new medication?" "Mrm."She stays silent for a moment, then extends a cup toward you. "Here. Fresh coffee. Probably your last decent cup for a while."You take it gratefully as she leans against the wall beside you, looking beyond the deck."Ten years of this storm…" She pauses. "Hard to picture what's left inland after all that."You wrap both hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into your fingers. "Thank you for pushing this through. Division must have fought you every step of the way.""They did." She sighs. "Half of them think Ophelia's red box is long gone, but you know me, I pulled some strings."She studies your face; the eyebags, the uneasy tension in your small frame. "Are you prepared for what you'll find?"You look down into your cup. The question sits between you, unanswerable. The readhead's mouth then curves into something like a smile, as if she already knew her question would be met with silence.>Go over mission parameters.>Ask about the crew she assigned to your expedition.>Write-in.
>>6365559>Ask about the crew she assigned to your expedition.Welcome back!
>>6365559>>Go over mission parameters.
What a beautiful day to die in the snow.>>6365559>Ask about the crew she assigned to your expedition
>>6365559>Ask about the crew she assigned to your expedition.
>>6365559>Ask about the crew she assigned to your expedition.Oh shit, we're back!
>>6365559>Ask about the crew she assigned to your expedition.Is this a sequel to something?
>>6365591https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Nerv%20Bridge%20Simulator
"I managed to pull Sloan from the southern front. A great field analyst, with a stellar service record. They can navigate AT anomalies better than anyone I've worked with, if you trust their instincts." She pauses. "Veer's going too. You've seen him around the Arpeggio. Big guy, doesn't talk much, but he's seen a lot and can maintain and repair anything mechanical."Her expression shifts slightly. "And then... look. I know how you feel about them, and I get it, but I had to fill out the rest of your roster with production-series HMCLs. Fresh ones, third quarter of last year. They'll answer to you directly, same as the others. I wish I could give you a full human crew, but-""It's fine," you cut her off, though your jaw tightens slightly."Oh, I almost forgot!" She reaches into her pocket, and places a small wooden object in your palm."What is this," You turn it over, tracing the rough-carved lines. "'Did you make it yourself?""Yes. Well, I tried to, anyway. It's supposed to be a moose." She almost smiles. "If you make it to the geofront, would you leave it there? For me."You study the carving. Its uncertain legs, the botched attempt at antlers. It is somehow both light and heavy."I will."You slip it carefully into your jacket's inner pocket as you stand. "See you in a few weeks, Eileen."
Your flight will drop you north of what used to be Boston, where the ACV is waiting with your crew and a full complement of probes and strike drones. Enough to get you there and back. With the perpetual storm system over eastern Canada entering a five-week lull, the first in ten years, you finally have your window to reach Montreal-3's geofront. The partial surveys painted a bleak picture however: compacted ash and snow fused into jagged, petrified formations ten meters deep in places. Dozens of flagged sinkhole collapses where the surface gave way to pockets of loose slurry beneath. Severe storm density, sporadic angelic-pattern signatures throughout the corridor, heavy AT-field interference across all bands. Infrastructure gone.And two hundred miles inland, buried deep in the geofront's sub-levels, lies your quarry: the MAGI facility. Somewhere in that nightmare is Ophelia's white box, the organic core at the heart of the supercomputer.Her innermost component.Damaged, most likely. The biological substrate was fragile and liquefaction is possible. But if it survived, if any neural structure remains intact, then the assembly is to be extracted and brought back. The original MAGI unit was generations ahead of current UNSDF systems. Even degraded, Ophelia's core could increase computational capabilities by an order of magnitude. Recovery and analysis. That's what's in the mission brief, what Division signed off on. Closure, what you actually need, won't appear in any report.- -Your gaze drifts to the small porthole window. Even muffled by the troop bay's hull, the VTOL's engines are deafening, but somehow their screech feels familiar. Safe, almost. It pulls you back to another life, to someone who used to fly these things. An hour to drop-off. Enough time to think. Perhaps too much.
You're sitting in the middle of Rachel's disaster of a living room, on a kitchen chair she dragged in from the other room. Despite living here for months now, you've given up trying to clean, your caretaker's habits makes that a losing battle. She circles behind you with scissors, wearing that faded green tank top, the fabric worn thin over the years. It's probably older than you are, you think. Then the snipping finally stops."There we go!" Rachel ruffles the back of your head enthusiastically. "See? I told you short hair would work on you!"Your head feels strangely light. You glance down at the floor covered in wavy strawberry-blonde strands. They used to be part of you. Not anymore."What, did I fuck it up?"Rachel ducks into your field of view, wearing that expression she gets when she's not sure if she messed up but finds it funny either way"No, it's fine. I just..." You touch the bare skin at the back of your neck. "I've had long hair for as long as I can remember.""Exactly!" She straightens up, triumphant. "You were long overdue for a change, Anna. Trust me, that little dude you like won't be able to look away now."Your face warms. "Please stop."She grins wider, clearly delighted."So, synch training today, right?" Rachel asks, kicking loose hair into a pile. "Who'd they pair you with?""Florence.""Ah. The creepy one.""She's not creepy," you say, a little too quickly."Nah, she kinda is." Rachel turns sharply, scissors aimed your way. "Don't tell her I said that.""I won't.""Good girl." She tosses the scissors onto her desk with a clatter. "Oh! Since you're heading down to the geofront anyway, mind swinging by Section 2 offices? They're holding a package for me. You know where that is, right?""Yes. I can do that."Rachel stops mid-movement, eyeing you suspiciously. "Wait. No complaints? No negotiating? I had a whole bribe prepared."You stand, brushing loose hairs from your shoulders. "Do you want your package or not?""Wow, ice cold. Maybe the creepy one is actually yo- ow ow ow!" You pinch the soft flesh of her upper arm and twist. She yelps and tries to wriggle free, but you've got the angle. When you release her, she stumbles back, rubbing her arm and grinning. "Creepy AND violent. They really stuck me with the problem child, huh?"Ignoring her last comment, you head toward your room, but catch yourself in the hallway mirror. Short hair. Exposed ears. Your whole neck and jawline visible. It looks like someone else."It really does look good, you know." Rachel's voice is quieter now. You glance back. She's leaning against the doorframe, sincere for once. "...Yeah. It does."The lie comes easier than you expected.>Go straight to synch prep. Get your head in the right space early.>Find Florence first. You can head down to the geofront together.>Grab Rachel's package now. Get it out of the way.
>>6365834>Grab Rachel's package now. Get it out of the way.
>>6365834>Find Florence first. You can head down to the geofront together.She's on the way.
>>6365834>Go straight to synch prep. Get your head in the right space early.
>>6365834>>6365834>Find Florence first. You can head down to the geofront together.I want to see the creepy one.
>>6365834>Grab Rachel's package now. Get it out of the way.>Go on suptg>2016>34 threadsWelp, time to read
Vote closed.
Florence's assigned quarters sit in one of the densely packed Nerv housing blocks. You pass through the lobby and up the stairs, nodding at faces you recognise from the geofront. Technicians, analysts, people whose names you should probably know by now. They blur together.Her door is on the twelfth floor. You press the buzzer, but get no answer.You try again, then test the handle. Unlocked.The apartment inside is oddly sparse: boxes are stacked against the walls, a mattress lies on the floor next to an unassembled bed frame still in its packaging. It doesn't look like anyone actually lives here. More like someone's camping temporarily in their own space."Flo?"
Movement in the kitchen area. She's got earbuds in, swaying slightly to music you can't hear, focused on something at the counter. Cooking, you realise. There's a cutting board, vegetables, and a rice cooker gently simmering."Florence?"She turns swiftly, sees you, and jerks in surprise. Her knife slips."Aah!" Blood runs across her palm, bright against porcelain skin, and drips onto the cutting board. She drops the knife with a clatter, sending her other hand over the wound."I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!""No, no, it's fine! I just-" She laughs, wincing, pressing a towel against the cut. "I just didn't expect to see someone."You're already moving, guiding her toward the sink. "Let me see."She extends her hand reluctantly. The cut runs deep across her palm, clean but bleeding freely. You turn on the cold water, guiding her hand under the stream. "I was making us lunch, actually" Florence says, managing a smile despite the wince."...For after the harmonics test. Real food, not cafeteria food, you know? I mean, I've never cooked anything before, ever, but I thought it might be fun to try."You reach for the first aid kit you spotted under the sink: gauze, antiseptic, bandages.
"You're really good at this," Florence says, watching you wrap her palm carefully."I've been trained.""That's not what I meant." Her pale eyes track your movements. "You're... gentle."You secure the bandage, not meeting her gaze. Her fingers are long, delicate. Even the white gauze stands out against her skin, the red already seeping through slightly."There." You secure the end. "Try not to use it for a while.""Thank you." Florence flexes her fingers, testing the wrap. "Well. So much for lunch." She nods at the bloodied, half-chopped vegetables."Sorry, Flo. I ruined this.""It's fine, don't worry about it." She's already moving to trash everything when she pauses, really looking at you for the first time. "Wait. Your hair…" Her good hand reaches up, stopping just before it actually touches. "It's so short. What happened?"You graze the back of your neck self-consciously. "Rachel cut it this morning.""Oh? Was it also a cutting accident like this?"The corner of your mouth lifts despite yourself. "Kind of, yeah."Florence meets your smile with her own. She can't seem to look away from your new haircut, fascinated. Your face warms.You know why Rachel finds her unsettling: she's too pale, too thin, like she might break. Albino skin, almost translucent somehow, and white hair that catch the light strangely. But to you Florence is not creepy at all. She has that otherworldly quality you see in glossy magazines, too beautiful to be entirely real. Except the way she's looking at you right now is immediate and true, not captured and frozen on paper."I uh, I've got to run an errand real quick before the test…you want to tag along?"- -"Final approach, Commander Simenco."The pilot's voice pulls you from half-sleep. Through the window, the VTOL is descending over land now, grey terrain scarred by erosion patterns. You straighten in your seat and stretch your neck. Meeting your crew doesn't make you anxious, exactly. Your reputation precedes you, they'll know what to expect. But the thought of working alongside HMCLs again… You told her it was fine. You'll make it work.The VTOL banks, and through the window you catch your first glimpse of the staging area below. Time to see what Eileen managed to scrape together for you.>Assemble the crew. Introductions, clear chain of command, then straight into mission prep. Set expectations early.>Skip the formalities, meet them as you go through pre-departure checks. There's too much to do before you can move out.>Write-in.
>>6366358>Assemble the crew. Introductions, clear chain of command, then straight into mission prep. Set expectations early.
>>6366358>Skip the formalities, meet them as you go through pre-departure checks. There's too much to do before you can move out.
>>6366358>Assemble the crew. Introductions, clear chain of command, then straight into mission prep. Set expectations early.Even if we're setting ourselves up to meet the cow right before it gets turned into steak.
>>6366358>Assemble the crew. Introductions, clear chain of command, then straight into mission prep. Set expectations early.Holy crap, I barely remember anything, but wasn't there two Eileens? And one bodyswapped with the MC in the end?
>>6366358>Skip the formalities, meet them as you go through pre-departure checks. There's too much to do before you can move out.>>6366627Surely we're the major after we've grown up in Eileen's body and the major isn't just a pile of salt somewhere in Montreal
