18 Unto the Monolith 1.1
Michael's eyes drowsily opened themselves to the disorganized rhythm of pops and snaps in the cockpit.
His head hurt. And he was hearing voices a second ago. But what else was new?
'Just how many fucking times can I get knocked out in one day?'
The "pilot" looked up, half expecting to see light shining in through the cockpit's broken windows...
...But upon completion of the action, there were two very notable facts.
One - The windows had remained intact.
And two - There were stars and the other odd organic shapes of the universe spread all across his view.
They were in space.
"So.... I'm going to guess we didn't crash?"
He asked softly, but aloud in hopes that the A.I. wasn't somehow damaged by the explosion.
// Crash? No. The dropship did not crash, Operative.
It surprises me that you doubt my capabilities. I am a ship-bourne A.I. after all.
While my creators may not have designed me to simulate an "escape" from a thermo-nuclear explosion, they have programmed me be to be able to cope with situations, in such that the most favorable outcome is inevitable. //
...
"And space was the 'most favorable outcome' ?", Michael asked while attempting to organize his situation. Another red message blared across the helmets HUD in response.
// Considering the current objective to be had in interfacing with the Satellite Station...the answer to your question Mr.Michael, would be: yes. //
'Damn relentless machine.....'
// In fact. When I complete running diagnostics on the externally radiated sections of the ship, checking for functionality difficulty, our travel shall resume.
This should take place in approximately 43 minutes 30 seconds.
From then, it should take a period of about 1 hour to circumnavigate Sava V and arrive at the satellite station in orbit.
//
"I hope the 'damages' weren't too bad... were they?"
'The last thing I need is to be sent burning up in-atmosphere. You know.....I sure as hell hope I don't jinx that'
Michael grew queasy at the thought.
---
// Actually, Operative Mitch much of the diagnostics and minor repairs have been completed in the 5 hours that you have remained unconscious.
...
In that span, the long-time companion of Mr.Carrian has awoken and begun to wander around the dropship. She has attempted to access the cockpit, but I have denied her the privilege, it is the same for the mini-reactor/control room and mini-medical facility, as her motives are still unknown.
She is now on the second deck, roaming the supplies chambers. //
---
"It just occurred to me..... isn't this thing too big to be a dropship?"
Michael set aside his Scifi-gamer's awed view of actually being in a real spaceship and began to look at the Humphree for its actual specs.
// Incorrect. As per U.P.C. instruction, the TP63-V 'Humphree' was designed for the mass transportation of troops onto the battlefield. It is authorized to transport up to 5 squads or 1 platoon of infantry units, alongside a mandatory crew of 10 U.P.C. naval personnel. //
.
"...I guess that makes sense.... sorta..."
// There are of course If you perhaps were wondering, other, smaller dropship variants in the U.P.C arsenal.
Such as the severely disliked TP62-V 'Hummer'. //
.
"Uh... alright... But enough of that. Tell me more about Brunette bandit... you can read her mind and stuff right?"
'She better not even be close to a pseudo-Carrian, otherwise, I'm gonna have to shoot one of the two.'
// Unfortunately, I have already attempted to initiate contact with her mind, Mr.Michael. I am incapable of "reading her thoughts". She is presumably another Betanic organism, such as yourself. //
...
"Wait..."
Michael was taken aback by Foreward Star's revelation, and slightly fearful at the fact there was another being who could possibly read his mind like Thetus.
"You're saying... that there is another human on board... that can use those BP-particles?!"
// Although this "Human" term you have used, is unknown to me, and therefore cannot be inputted into my calculated response.
The answer to your question is: no. The female colleague of Mr.Carrian has proven to be of the Elvheim branch of the Andii-nian species collective. //
.
The cockpit screen in front of him dimmed, bringing up camera feeds from the different rooms aboard the ship, while Michael thought over the information he had just received.
'Elvheim?'
A screen enlarged itself to overlap the existing surveillance footage, the figure of a woman appeared, slowly and confusedly inspecting the objects within the room as if she had never seen them before. She reminded Michel of Carrian and himself when they first entered the dropship for themselves.
The only thing that kept him from smiling at the image, was the woman herself.
She had long, pointed ears, and a smooth face. Things he hadn't noticed from before, in the facility, nor when he had arrived to pick them up.
"That can't be right...."
He was, in all sense of the word, shocked.
"Aren't these sort of things supposed to only exist in fantasy settings?... What the hell is an elf doing here?! In Space?!"
Michael suddenly felt like he wanted a refund for some reason.
'I guess that does explain their mind-reading capabilities and stuff though....but still...'
Another sudden thought came into his mind. One he had forgotten to ask earlier.
"Uh...Where's Carrian?"
// Ah.
Mr.Carrian would be:
There. //
.
The image on-screen morphed to the perspective of another camera. This one also had a figure represented on it. A man was sloped over the railing to one of the ship's small stairwells, saliva leaking from his mouth.
"Funny... I don't know if this was by choice...or if he was knocked out"
// Mr. Carrian was knocked unconscious by a collision with a wall, during the reactor's spontaneous destruction, while attempting to reach the cockpit. //
.
A video recording played on the monitor, displaying the bandit's unfortunate encounter with the wall, looping once it was over.
"Pffffft...HAHAHA AHUHUHAAHHH" He couldn't help himself, and began breaking out in laughter.
It was hilarious. To Michael at least, and he kind of understood why. But didn't understand why he couldn't stop laughing.
"Record it! Record that and store it!" Michael blurred between bursts of laughter.
...
Unknown to him, a female figure must have somehow heard the outbreak. Because, they began to head in its direction, as if in a desperate search for someone or something, with an answer.
Michael didn't stop laughing until he heard three light taps on the door to the cockpit's entrance behind him. He immediately silenced himself out of surprise.
"What the hell was that?!" he whispered to the A.I., almost completely forgetting about their fellow female occupant.
// It appears, your abundant laughter has drawn Mr.Carrian's colleague to the cockpit entrance.//
"Shit! Uhm... we got any hand weapons in here?... you know... in case she tries to kill me or something!" He worriedly mouthed.
An assuring response in the form of a red message, calming him, however.
// I would not worry, Operative. The door has been locked so as not to allow an uninvited guest in, to begin with.
Even if such an event were to take place as her breaking in and resorting to violence, a measured BP jolt from the Humphree's onboard BP generator, combined with this helmet's capabilities, would sufficiently usher her into unconsciousness. //
...
...
'That actually sounds pretty reliable....'
He thought the next course of actions over, in his head, before actually deciding to open the door.
'I don't think I'll be able to avoid this cosplayer forever anyways, might as well do it while the odds are on my side.'
"I guess...you could open the doors for our guest then..."
// Are you sure on this course of action, Operative Mitch? //
"Um...Why not..?" Michael swiveled the pilots' seat around to face the cockpit's entrance.
"Open it."
The door made a loud hissing noise and a clear click.
Seconds later, it slowly swung inwards.
____________________________________
The first thing that Michael heard from the other side was a slightly nervous feminine voice.
"Uh.. .excuse me? Is someone in there."
Michael was somewhat disappointed.
He half expected the female bandit to bust into the room like a badass, and start demanding answers, but then again, this world never conformed to his envisionment of sci-fi over 90% of the time.
He crossed his arms.
The door swung open more fully, to reveal, an attractive tan face, with white eyes, and already noticeable brunette hair; long, loosely braided, and flowing behind the body.
That face, contorted into a look of complete confusion, upon seeing the cross-armed, helmeted miniature-person, sitting in the pilot's seat.
"What....? who-"
But he cut her off.
"Hi there, nice to meet you, name's Mitch.... and before you say anything, I'd just like to let you know and get one thing straight.
Although I may look like it. I am not. A fucking kid"
.
.
.
{[| Miranda POV |]}
She just stood there. Confused beyond anything she had ever known.
Closing the door and then turning around.
.
First, there was the giant death robot, killing off her fellow mercenaries, on what was supposed to be a routine, easy-pay assignment.
Next, there was Carrian. One of her former trusted-companions, and only other remaining member of their once decorated bandit group showing up from seemingly out of nowhere, after over 3 years.
Then there was a ship.
An explosion.
And a kid wearing a helmet, sitting in the pilot's seat.
.
It was safe to say, she was this close to a mental breakdown. Too many things had happened in the past few hours for her to not awkwardly wake up from it all.
....
She stumbled around the ship in search for a familiar slumped figure, bent over the railing.
Miranda nudged it shoulders a few times, roughly. And when that didn't work, proceded to kick at it, causing it to arch over and fall down the stairwell.
The figure, Carrian, let out a small yelp of pain, before, immediately scrambling to get up.
"Wha-What? Oh....wait...Mir-anda?!...Wait...oh...thats right! Yeah! Miranda!"
He spouted some incoherent words before settling upon some sort of underlying realization.
Carrian got up and rubbed the back of his head.
Miranda waited for an explanation, but only received a big smile from Carrian, who she guessed had not completely recovered from whatever accident happened in the stairwell.
So she took the initiative to speak.
"You! Wher- What is happening?!"
At this, he looked as if he was coming to his senses; shaking his head clear and scratching his hair.
"Oh, wait- right, you wouldn't know... so... yeah, I think you should follow me to the cockpit. It'll be a lot easier to explain things there." He was still pivoting his head and flinching, unbalanced.
Miranda gave him a befuddled look,
"But there's a kid in a helmet up there, that says it isn't a kid"
He stared at her for a minute, like trying to decipher some hidden message in her words. He settled upon yet another look of realization, and a light gleamed in his eyes.
He broke out in laughter.
"Ah. You mean Mitch"
