"Hey."
No. Shut up. Just go away.
"Hey, kid."
Go away. It's nice here. All dark and warm. I don't wanna-
"Kid, I'm talking to you."
Ryuga Kanzuki's eyes cracked open, and realized that he wasn't lying in his bunk. Then he decided that he rather would have preferred the bunk. He would have only got a caution for sleeping in. But he was inside the cockpit of one of the Allied Realms Military's most sophisticated pieces of equipment, so a caution would be wishful thinking. At best, a demotion. At worst, firing squadron.
He really did not want the firing squadron.
He tried to get up, and hissed as pins and needles sang through his arms. This made him discover that he was lying in a crooked pretzel on the floor of the cockpit. There was a moment where he struggled to unravel himself, unsure of where his limbs were and why his hips were above his head. Then he managed to draw himself to his knees, where he could peer out and see the service gantry a little way off.
For some reason, he had a headache. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, rustling his unruly mop of hair with the action. A general cloud of worry stirred in his head, with various doubts fighting to shout above each other. One in particular seemed to say didn't I hear a voice a few moments ago, and he had to admit that it had a point. Even if his immediate concern was to get out of here and find an aspirin.
But when he tried to stand up, he bonked his head on the glass canopy.
"Whoa, easy there, champ!"
He paused in the middle of nursing his head. The doubt was now screaming at him, and against his better judgement he decided to confirm it and turned his head.
The figure that confronted him was light blue, and faintly shining - a hologram. It was also female, around four inches tall and standing on the right side of the control console. His immediate thought was that she was naked, but a second glance revealed the lines of a form-fitting bodysuit, of the sort an actual pilot would wear. Her short hair was neatly cropped to about shoulder length, and might have been jet black without the blue tinge. She stood with a casual hand-on-hip stance, a faint smirk on her face, and when she spoke her voice was tinged with an accent Ryuga couldn't quite place.
"You had a bad tumble," she explained. "I closed up so you'd be safe. Been tryin' to rouse you for the past five mintues, by the way. Talk about a heavy sleeper!"
Ryuga blinked. He was pretty sure what he was seeing wasn't supposed to be possible. Was he still asleep, and dreaming this whole thing? That was a little too hopeful, considering that he'd just made a painful acquaintance with some glass. He could still feel that, and as far as he was aware, pain in dreams wasn't this acute.
"Um," he tried. "Who are you?"
The smirk split into a grin. "Name's Laura. You're Ryuga, right?"
"Yeah." And then Ryuga shook his head. "Sorry, are you the ship's AI? Only I didn't think they were as articulate as this."
"Ooh, articulate. Picked a real egghead here." Laura shifted her weight - if it existed - to her other leg and folded her arms. "And yeah, if you wanna call me that. It's a bit more complicated, but I basically do everything the standard ArcWave Intelligence can do. And more, actually - long story."
Ryuga didn't like the way she was looking at him. It made him feel two different things - primarily, embarrased to be wearing his grubby mechanic's boiler suit. He wanted to run to the shower block and roll about in the cleansing powder for about half an hour. And secondly, she seemed to be sizing him up, judging him as though he were at a job interview. Or the way a tiger sizes up the deer before it pounces.
Actually, scratch that - neither comparison was making him comfortable.
He cleared his throat. "Okay... can you open the canopy, please? I kinda need to get back to work, and I'm not supposed to-"
The canopy had deadened most sound from the outside. But the explosion was still loud enough to make him jump, falling backwards into the seat. He looked up, and realized with a cold thrill that the hangar doors were open. If he wasn't shut up inside, he would have felt the light summer breeze against his skin, heard the shouts of technicians and other crew members running about, and the blaring klaxons that signaled a desperate emergency.
He didn't hear or feel any of those. But he did see the skyships darting about, filling the air with laser fire and smoke like a deadly neon concert.
"What's going on?" he shrieked, eyes wide.
"That?" Laura didn't even look round. "Oh, we're just under attack."
A lot of things flashed through Ryuga's mind at that moment. The shock and fear of realizing the base, and by extension the city, was being assaulted. Bewilderment that the speaker could have treated the affair so casually. The memory of a man built like a gorilla shoving him aside, causing him to tumble off the gantry. But of all the things he could have said, what actually came out of his mouth in a panicked scream was:
"By who?!"
-------
No. Shut up. Just go away.
"Hey, kid."
Go away. It's nice here. All dark and warm. I don't wanna-
"Kid, I'm talking to you."
Ryuga Kanzuki's eyes cracked open, and realized that he wasn't lying in his bunk. Then he decided that he rather would have preferred the bunk. He would have only got a caution for sleeping in. But he was inside the cockpit of one of the Allied Realms Military's most sophisticated pieces of equipment, so a caution would be wishful thinking. At best, a demotion. At worst, firing squadron.
He really did not want the firing squadron.
He tried to get up, and hissed as pins and needles sang through his arms. This made him discover that he was lying in a crooked pretzel on the floor of the cockpit. There was a moment where he struggled to unravel himself, unsure of where his limbs were and why his hips were above his head. Then he managed to draw himself to his knees, where he could peer out and see the service gantry a little way off.
For some reason, he had a headache. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, rustling his unruly mop of hair with the action. A general cloud of worry stirred in his head, with various doubts fighting to shout above each other. One in particular seemed to say didn't I hear a voice a few moments ago, and he had to admit that it had a point. Even if his immediate concern was to get out of here and find an aspirin.
But when he tried to stand up, he bonked his head on the glass canopy.
"Whoa, easy there, champ!"
He paused in the middle of nursing his head. The doubt was now screaming at him, and against his better judgement he decided to confirm it and turned his head.
The figure that confronted him was light blue, and faintly shining - a hologram. It was also female, around four inches tall and standing on the right side of the control console. His immediate thought was that she was naked, but a second glance revealed the lines of a form-fitting bodysuit, of the sort an actual pilot would wear. Her short hair was neatly cropped to about shoulder length, and might have been jet black without the blue tinge. She stood with a casual hand-on-hip stance, a faint smirk on her face, and when she spoke her voice was tinged with an accent Ryuga couldn't quite place.
"You had a bad tumble," she explained. "I closed up so you'd be safe. Been tryin' to rouse you for the past five mintues, by the way. Talk about a heavy sleeper!"
Ryuga blinked. He was pretty sure what he was seeing wasn't supposed to be possible. Was he still asleep, and dreaming this whole thing? That was a little too hopeful, considering that he'd just made a painful acquaintance with some glass. He could still feel that, and as far as he was aware, pain in dreams wasn't this acute.
"Um," he tried. "Who are you?"
The smirk split into a grin. "Name's Laura. You're Ryuga, right?"
"Yeah." And then Ryuga shook his head. "Sorry, are you the ship's AI? Only I didn't think they were as articulate as this."
"Ooh, articulate. Picked a real egghead here." Laura shifted her weight - if it existed - to her other leg and folded her arms. "And yeah, if you wanna call me that. It's a bit more complicated, but I basically do everything the standard ArcWave Intelligence can do. And more, actually - long story."
Ryuga didn't like the way she was looking at him. It made him feel two different things - primarily, embarrased to be wearing his grubby mechanic's boiler suit. He wanted to run to the shower block and roll about in the cleansing powder for about half an hour. And secondly, she seemed to be sizing him up, judging him as though he were at a job interview. Or the way a tiger sizes up the deer before it pounces.
Actually, scratch that - neither comparison was making him comfortable.
He cleared his throat. "Okay... can you open the canopy, please? I kinda need to get back to work, and I'm not supposed to-"
The canopy had deadened most sound from the outside. But the explosion was still loud enough to make him jump, falling backwards into the seat. He looked up, and realized with a cold thrill that the hangar doors were open. If he wasn't shut up inside, he would have felt the light summer breeze against his skin, heard the shouts of technicians and other crew members running about, and the blaring klaxons that signaled a desperate emergency.
He didn't hear or feel any of those. But he did see the skyships darting about, filling the air with laser fire and smoke like a deadly neon concert.
"What's going on?" he shrieked, eyes wide.
"That?" Laura didn't even look round. "Oh, we're just under attack."
A lot of things flashed through Ryuga's mind at that moment. The shock and fear of realizing the base, and by extension the city, was being assaulted. Bewilderment that the speaker could have treated the affair so casually. The memory of a man built like a gorilla shoving him aside, causing him to tumble off the gantry. But of all the things he could have said, what actually came out of his mouth in a panicked scream was:
"By who?!"
-------
The Benthians were primitive. Everybody said so. They were the one race that hadn't unlocked the secrets of Arcstone yet. Dwelling at the bottom of the ocean, they trusted nothing made by humans and trusted humans even less. Yet they mattered little to the modern world, a mere curiosity compared to crystal-powered wonders and ancient secrets. They were primitive, and that was that.
It lazily glided through the air, still streaming water from its silver-blue flanks. Its underside, reflecting a patchwork of muted ceramic colours below, barely brushed the tops of the tallest spires in Capital City. Eyes that might have been viewing ports glinted in the midday sun. It reached Central Square, bathing it in shadow as a bewildered populace looked up at it. Their gazes were met by the sickly glow of the neon-green repulsors keeping it airborne, humming quietly as it slowly drew to a stop.
They only realized it was the Benthians when a voice boomed out in their ancient language.
"Ukkodt, cudt-tnoccohj. 0eih nehct aj den eih nehct. Vawxk, av 0ei mijk, rik kxo Toof Mekxoh aj nakx ij. 0ei nacc vuac."
There was a pregnant pause.
And then its mouth opened, and the fighters streamed out like piranha in a feeding frenzy.
Within moments, the city was on fire. People ran screaming as droves of fighters swooped between the skyscrapers in threes and fives, targeting anything they saw as hostile. Buildings shook under the assaults of well-aimed missiles, then toppled like matchsticks, trailing billowing clouds dust and flame. Bombers, slow yet patient, traced the escape route of vehicles, and every plume of fire was another road blocked off. And as the destruction progressed, the plan became clear.
The Benthians meant to trap the people inside the city. They would recieve no help from anywhere else - no ground support would be coming from any direction. And once the city was cowed, they could move in and truly occupy it. The people below were alone, and utter defeat seemed certain.
It was at the height of this carnage when five shining, winged shapes suddenly swooped overhead in formation.
The Benthians meant to trap the people inside the city. They would recieve no help from anywhere else - no ground support would be coming from any direction. And once the city was cowed, they could move in and truly occupy it. The people below were alone, and utter defeat seemed certain.
It was at the height of this carnage when five shining, winged shapes suddenly swooped overhead in formation.
"It's the Wyverns!" somebody shouted. And the screams turned into cheers.
Everyone knew who - and what - the Wyverns were. They were the pride of the Allied Realms Military, the ace pilots whose faces were plastered on every child's bedroom wall. But the name also referred to their machines, if one could call them that in the strictest sense. Modelled after the ancient flying beasts, they flew more like living things than an artificial craft - twisting, banking and looping like no fighter could, swifter than even the most noble of birds.
The Wyverns were heroes. The best of the best. If anyone could stop this deadly new enemy, it was them. Hopes were high as, leaving tails of purple flame behind them, the ace pilots and their one-of-a-kind machines soared right into the heart of the aerial chaos.
Then the cheering masses suddenly went quiet as things rapidly went wrong
This wasn't a classic dogfight. If it was, the Wyerns would have mopped the floor with the invaders. But the enemy ships were like a huge shoal of bait fish - too many targets in the great mass. For every one shot down, ten more would fill in the gaps. The Wyverns twisted and flapped like birds struggling to outpace a storm, and the watching populace began to falter as they realized the legendary aces weren't winning.
Then a stray laser blast hit the wing of one of the Wyverns, punching a hole the size of a small car. The beast gave a mechanical roar and flailed as if in pain, losing altitude rapidly. Two fighters closed in from the rear, and as much as it twisted, the pilot fighting to gain control, they pursued. Another shot finished the wing off, whilst another detonated against the back of the craft and ripped it open. It plummeted behind a skyscraper in a fireball, filling the air with black smoke, and vanished.
The impossible had happened. A Wyvern had been shot down.
Watched by the looming carrier, the people began to run again.
This wasn't a classic dogfight. If it was, the Wyerns would have mopped the floor with the invaders. But the enemy ships were like a huge shoal of bait fish - too many targets in the great mass. For every one shot down, ten more would fill in the gaps. The Wyverns twisted and flapped like birds struggling to outpace a storm, and the watching populace began to falter as they realized the legendary aces weren't winning.
Then a stray laser blast hit the wing of one of the Wyverns, punching a hole the size of a small car. The beast gave a mechanical roar and flailed as if in pain, losing altitude rapidly. Two fighters closed in from the rear, and as much as it twisted, the pilot fighting to gain control, they pursued. Another shot finished the wing off, whilst another detonated against the back of the craft and ripped it open. It plummeted behind a skyscraper in a fireball, filling the air with black smoke, and vanished.
The impossible had happened. A Wyvern had been shot down.
Watched by the looming carrier, the people began to run again.
-------
"They've got their carrier over the city," Laura was explaining when Ryuga had stopped having a panic attack. "The've jammed communications and the bombers are taking out all the roads - I think they wanna isolate us from any ground support. The other Wyverns are engaging, but they're not used to the Benthian's swarm tactics, so they're not doing too good. And once they're gone... Well, you fill in the blanks."
Ryuga blinked, trying to parse all of what he'd just heard.
"They've got their carrier over the city," Laura was explaining when Ryuga had stopped having a panic attack. "The've jammed communications and the bombers are taking out all the roads - I think they wanna isolate us from any ground support. The other Wyverns are engaging, but they're not used to the Benthian's swarm tactics, so they're not doing too good. And once they're gone... Well, you fill in the blanks."
Ryuga blinked, trying to parse all of what he'd just heard.
"...so wait. Why haven't you launched?"
Laura's smirk faded. "Because I don't have a pilot, stupid. And even if I did, I'm grounded. Security codes got me locked into this bay like a pig on a meat hook. I can open and close the cockpit canopy, but that's about all I can do."
"Oh." And then, for lack of a better question, "Where is your pilot?"
The hologram didn't reply. She continued to look at him with that same calculating stare. But the brown-haired boy could see that there was something else to her expression. He wasn't that great at reading people, let alone holograms, but he thought he detected a sadness behind the lax expression. Worry lanced through him - did he just insult her? Was this going to be like the time he thought he'd asked for the salt in Dwarvish, only to walk away with spaghetti in his hair?
"Look, kid." Laura said, at last. "I like you."
Despite himself, Ryuga went red. "R-really?"
"Yeah." A small smile was on the hologram's face. "Don't ask me how or why - again, it's complicated. But I do. So I'm gonna ask some questions, and I want you to answer honestly, and do anything I need you to do. And I'm gonna need you to trust me on this, because there's a lot of lives in danger and I really don't want to spend any more time cooped up in here any longer than I want to." She leaned forward slightly, and her eyes - what colour, Ryuga couldn't guess - held his own gaze for a moment.
"Question one. How much BCL do you know?"
Ryuga blinked again. "Quite a lot. Um. I studied it back in the academy when I flunked out of the piloting classes. I'm a Junior Mechanic at the moment, but I also-."
"Swish. Now, you see the keypad to your left?"
Ryuga looked, and did in fact see the keypad. It sat on a sort of forward slant just to the left, providing ease of access for a pilot in the middle of fast-paced manoeuvres. It only took a slight move of the hand to reach it, and every pilot learned to recognize each key by touch alone. This way, they could harness the power of the on-board AI for various tasks, such as adjusting performance, getting technical readouts or registering the security passwords to unlock the-
The boy, in the act of reaching for the keypad, hesitated.
"...this isn't anything illegal, is it?"
Laura's smirk faded. "Because I don't have a pilot, stupid. And even if I did, I'm grounded. Security codes got me locked into this bay like a pig on a meat hook. I can open and close the cockpit canopy, but that's about all I can do."
"Oh." And then, for lack of a better question, "Where is your pilot?"
The hologram didn't reply. She continued to look at him with that same calculating stare. But the brown-haired boy could see that there was something else to her expression. He wasn't that great at reading people, let alone holograms, but he thought he detected a sadness behind the lax expression. Worry lanced through him - did he just insult her? Was this going to be like the time he thought he'd asked for the salt in Dwarvish, only to walk away with spaghetti in his hair?
"Look, kid." Laura said, at last. "I like you."
Despite himself, Ryuga went red. "R-really?"
"Yeah." A small smile was on the hologram's face. "Don't ask me how or why - again, it's complicated. But I do. So I'm gonna ask some questions, and I want you to answer honestly, and do anything I need you to do. And I'm gonna need you to trust me on this, because there's a lot of lives in danger and I really don't want to spend any more time cooped up in here any longer than I want to." She leaned forward slightly, and her eyes - what colour, Ryuga couldn't guess - held his own gaze for a moment.
"Question one. How much BCL do you know?"
Ryuga blinked again. "Quite a lot. Um. I studied it back in the academy when I flunked out of the piloting classes. I'm a Junior Mechanic at the moment, but I also-."
"Swish. Now, you see the keypad to your left?"
Ryuga looked, and did in fact see the keypad. It sat on a sort of forward slant just to the left, providing ease of access for a pilot in the middle of fast-paced manoeuvres. It only took a slight move of the hand to reach it, and every pilot learned to recognize each key by touch alone. This way, they could harness the power of the on-board AI for various tasks, such as adjusting performance, getting technical readouts or registering the security passwords to unlock the-
The boy, in the act of reaching for the keypad, hesitated.
"...this isn't anything illegal, is it?"
"Depends." The grin was back. "Would you call prepping a Wyvern ship for their pilot an illegal activity?"
Ryuga shook his head. "Well... no. Mechanics have clearance to prep a ship for the pilot five hours or so prior to launch. And if the pilot is delayed for any reason, the mechanic has a duty to keep the ship warmed up for when they arrive. It's under Section Five of-"
"Yeah, yeah, spare me the technobabble. Look, I'm booting up the console right now."
Laura didn't vanish, which was what Ryuga had been expecting. She expanded instead, losing all definition until the hologram was no more than a big blue sphere. And from there, a series of dots peppered the surface, with text labels hovering over each one. As Ryuga stared at it, recognizing it as a form of Holographic Interface Globe, a red ring bloomed into existance around one of the dots.
Laura didn't vanish, which was what Ryuga had been expecting. She expanded instead, losing all definition until the hologram was no more than a big blue sphere. And from there, a series of dots peppered the surface, with text labels hovering over each one. As Ryuga stared at it, recognizing it as a form of Holographic Interface Globe, a red ring bloomed into existance around one of the dots.
"Here's the sitch," came Laura's voice. "I got the standard password block on me, but there's something else in there. A shell. Think of a deadbolt lock on the average NoTech door and you got the idea. It's to stop anyone booting me up even if they manage to guess the password right, but when it's on I'm basically a big lump of metal on legs. No control, no power. I'm gonna need you to turn that thing off."
A shell... Ryuga knew exactly what those were - anti-hacking measures. He'd seen them applied around the base to stop outside sources from trying to break in and mess around with systems, or steal data. But he'd never heard of it being applied to a Wyvern before - they normally didn't require much more than a password. So why...?
"Are... are you sure?" he asked. "That sounds a lot like-"
"Are... are you sure?" he asked. "That sounds a lot like-"
"Trust me, champ. I know you can do it."
A lump was developing in Ryuga's throat. But he'd never been called 'champ' before, and that was a nice feeling.
So he did as asked, pressing one finger to the indicated dot. The dot blossomed up into a window, presenting filenames and icons - the inner ArcTech Network inside the Wyvern. It looked like an older operating system, but the mechanic didn't focus on that detail long enough to register it as important. Without really thinking, his hand reached for the keyboard, typing furiously whilst the other tapped and swiped on the globe, flicking through the folders in search of what he had to do.
As someone who debugged things for a living, Ryuga had the uncanny ability to phase out and think about other things as he worked. It was something he did now, as he slipped easily into the process of analyzing and changing and deleting. He thought about about the sudden battle, the fact he was talking to a glowy blue hologram girl, about what he was going to do next. He was hoping that maybe he could talk to that nice girl who ran the cafeteria. Maybe they could go to the movies together.
Or maybe they wouldn't, and he'd keep being an unremarkable, unimportant mechanic stationed on a secret military base in the fringes of Capital City.
That was fine. It's not like anyone ever-
Ping.
The noise brought Ryuga back into reality. He looked at the console, and saw the words CORE ACTIVE flashing on the interface globe. Good, he'd killed the shield and unlocked the password at the same time. Easy enough to do with these older operating systems. Then he felt the vibrations beneath his feet, and realized that the engines were warming up as Thaumic power flowed through the machine. From somewhere deep inside came a low, rumbling growl - although that could have been anything.
Mission accomplished.
"Right," he said, leaning back. "You're online. Now open this cockpit so I can find your pilot and- hey!"
His cry came as, without warning, the control harness clamped over his body, pinning him to the seat. Even as he struggled to pry it off, he felt the cockpit itself swing downwards through the body of the craft, emerging from the chest area and locking into place again. Looking down did not help - it was like being stuck on a flying roller coaster at a theme park. Without the canopy there, if he was to fall out, there would be nothing between him and a very painful splat on the iron floor beneath.
That's weird, was his first thought. Wyverns have stationary cockpits, don't they?
His second thought, as he heard the wings rachet open, was OH GODS HELP ME.
Laura's face appeared in front of him, sporting the kind of ecstatic grin reserved for maniacs in straightjackets.
"Thanks, champ!" she cried. "Now, hang tight! And try not to wet yourself - launching velocity does a real number on you!" And she vanished before any protest could be formed.
Terrified by literally everything happening, Ryuga barely registered the clank of the restraining clamps snapping open. Then a roar assaulted his ears, and the Wyvern shot forewords as though flung from a catapult, rocketing out through the hangar doors on a tail of violet fire. The wings flared for a moment, then settled as the craft skimmed the surface of the bay, a silver arrow flying headlong against a backdrop of pristine dark blue. An arrow that, with no hand to guide it, was aimed straight for the city.
Pinned to his seat by the g-force, Ryuga Kanzuki could do only one thing.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
Considering you're probably going to do all the heavy lifting, Not-Cortana, bringing the guy along is just plain mean.
ReplyDeleteAnd pointless. After all it's not like one ship can stop a whole army, can it? That never happens in fiction.