Less Than Heroes, More Than Friends (Jade)

[Nemesis]

"Bingo."

The Super Robot drifted through the aether, drifting closer to the hulk. The sight of its massive, creaking frame, dwarfing the Getter in size even in death, made Seti realize she'd stopped breathing for a minute. She hurriedly scanned the surface of the carrier, its name barely legible from the scarred and pitted surface as the other two sat in awed silence.

"Got a name. It's the Passchendaele... Guantanamo-class, looks like."

A colossal hand reached out, grabbing the lip of the ship's surface as the red machine peered onto the deck. Seemingly finally thrilled to know something of note, Emma spoke up as the camera panned from left to right, taking in the sights.

"Look - TSFs... Mobile Suits..."
"ATs, too... that one, there. That's a Red Shoulder."
"I don't think so. It's on the wrong side, see? Maybe the pilot escaped?"

Vaulting over the surface as quietly, yet swiftly as a forty-five meter chunk of metal could, the Super Robot crouched among the metal graveyard, trying to look inconspicuous. There was a sharp bang, causing Seti to yelp in her seat, head snapping around almost 180 degrees - only to be met with the form of Emma, already in her spacesuit, who'd clambered down through the emergency hatch.

"We'll split up. Find intact computer cores, black boxes, food and water - whatever you can carry, and bring it back."
"A-Are you sure? That's how they usually get killed in horror movies."
"That's why you have this!"

Something metal was tossed through the air, and Seti fumbled as she caught it, feeling its weight in her hands. The pistol caught the cockpit light as she turned it over anxiously, feeling its worn grip, fingers moving uncertainly across its surface.

"You ever fired a gun before, egghead?"
"...In simulations..."

She looked up - only to see Solana had already disembarked, making her way towards the fake-Red Shoulder AT. The other two followed, Seti putting her helmet on as the cockpit depressurized, Emma waving to the retreating woman, trying to catch her attention.

"Hey, Solana! Take-"
"Don't worry. She can handle herself."

#55 gave Seti a curious look, but demanded no further explanation. Better to move as quickly and quietly as possible. She hefted her own weapon - a short-barreled survival shotgun, it seemed, and kicked off from the surface in the direction of the TSFs. At the very least, she thought, they'd have some rations worth salvaging... Hopefully.

Lastly, Seti, now alone, gave a sigh. She knew where to start, at least - and pushed herself off in the direction of the M1 Astray. The battery was likely long dead, she realized - but the external controls to remove the cockpit door were designed to work even in emergencies. Who would have known, she thought glumly, that her training at Omer would pay off like this?

 

[Chaos]

As they ventured from the Getter at last, there was a chill to the air around them. Not so much literal temperature (although there was a distinct lack of heat), but a permeating eerieness that clawed at them from every molecule. The further they ventured away from the Getter, the more acutely this effect danced at the back of their mind. Ambient oppression that all but screamed in glee should they near the twenty-meter mark from their craft.

Everything around them was still, yet it felt like something was lurking in the dark. Almost as if the dark itself was waiting for the chance to swallow them whole, should they dare to delve too deep.

---

For Emma, a closer survey of the Scopedog would reveal the scuffs, scrapes, pockmarks, and grime expected of a frontline unit. This unit was one that had faced more than its share of ordnance and lived to tell the tale, only for that tale to lead here. The markings on the unit's hull were well worn from some combination of service and whatever acrid elements it had encountered here. It was enough that a sign on the elbow, all in military block print, could only barely be made out.

▓OIT▓▓▓TA
2▓2▓▓▓IT▓▓▓O▓​

The unit was not so much folded down as sprawled like a discarded doll. The head hatch was still in place, but the torso hatch as an entire unit was... not so much raised, as warped and partly rent from its proper position. The end effect was that it was still sitting at the upper extreme of its hinged swing, exposing the entire pilot compartment to the elements. The way it was sitting, its left side (including the remaining arm) was toward the Getter, such that the intact external release on the near side glimmered in the light.

So too did the thick layer of crystal lining the entire cavity. The color and cloudy nature of the facets made it hard to see through, but with enough focused light and dedicated peering, the usual surfaces could be made out beneath. A chair, a console. A stray boot. There were no human remains to speak of or clothing aside from the one shoe and a few stray scraps.

What was most peculiar, though, was all these surfaces had melded together beneath the crystal - as if melted equally, despite their varying heat resistance and flammability. Nothing had ignited, nothing was any more melted than anything else. They were all just warped and running into each other as if some deranged all-powerful artist had put reality through a smudge filter. But only on the inside of the cockpit, leaving the exterior without any signs of the trauma visited within. Even the exterior box beneath the compartment was untouched, still containing a standard complement of supplies.

---

What awaited Emma outside was a familiar sight. TSFs that lay silent and abandoned, long since fallen in a battle. The cockpit hatch was gone from the first F-4, the chassis bearing the telltale signs of the external forces brought to bear to access the pilot - and the lack of success to self-detonate.

A lone Type-77 rested nearby, still intact apart despite its ungainly flopped pose on the deck. How long had it been here? It was as inert as anything else around them - no sign there was any power or fuel left in it. Yet apart from the grime that coated it and everything else in the area, it could have been left only moments ago, the pilot having just stepped out for midday constitutional.

Another F-4 further beyond it was less fortunate - while externally intact, the cockpit was a hollowed-out ruin. What little remained of its contents was so mangled and shredded the constituent pieces were almost indistinguishable from each other.

---

The Astray Seti landed on was the only immediate unit that showed any sign of care in its positioning - it was seated, legs out straight, torso angled by necessity from the pylons on its back. Subarms were fitted to the ends of its vernier cylinder, the left one bearing a sensor radome while the right one held a railgun aloft. A Type 71-44 rifle rested in its right hand, and a battered but still functional shield adorned the left arm.

The edges of the shield nonetheless bore the purple corrosion present in most of the hulks, as did the oversized blue v-fin. The cockpit readily slid open when prompted, the last gasp of its backup motor escaping as it neared the apex. The ugly thud that followed soon after suggested it wouldn't willingly move again anytime soon. It was just as well, for in this position two peculiar things were revealed. First, the previously concealed surface at the bottom of the hatch was lined with the same rime, despite not being exposed to the elements in its initial position.

Second, the pilot seat was missing from the otherwise intact cockpit block.

---

By some luck, the outer chaos allowed the girls many minutes of relative peace to work at their chosen tasks. Yet as they lingered upon the broken whale's back, there eventually came a faint thud from further on. A moment or two later, another, slightly louder. And then a third, just slightly louder still...

 

[Nemesis]

Solana grunted as she lifted herself over the lip of the Scopedog, feet dangling into the void as they kicked. She squinted at the crystal mass that had spread across the interior, running a hand across the battered exterior. It reminded her of the Battling Arenas in the rougher Colonies, how she'd spent more than her fair share of days in just such machines. Oh sure, they were deathtraps - and she'd almost been vaporized more than once - but there was something satisfying about the Arm Punch, of a metal fist slamming home against the foe's head, that was just unforgettable.

Seen better days, chico?

Someone perhaps wiser would have had plenty to say about the warped material beneath the crystals, and she made a mental note to ask Seti about it later, fumbling with her spacesuit's helmet as it clicked a few pictures. No chance of salvaging the Mission Disk, it seemed. Readjusting her lithe body ,she ran her hand over the exterior compartment - and, to her surprise, felt something under her glove. With some effort, she managed to dislodge the pack of supplies underneath, a triumphant grin on her face as she began to make her way back to the distant, towering form of the Super Robot.

Gracias.

---

"What a curious configuration..."

Seti Veasna slunk from one chunk of debris to the next as she eyeballed the Astray, trying to make herself look as small (and unappetizing) as possible for any other... oddities that might be watching. The aura of the place alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up so straight they were practically needles. The other two, well they were probably used to danger, but she was a scientist! A test pilot at best! Field work was for undergrads!

She continued to silently bemoan her situation as the external paneling came loose under her gloves, and the emergency release code was punched in. The cockpit block groaned out, breathing its last, in a spray of dust and grime that formed a cloud. Muttering darkly, Seti wiped her visor clean and floated up, craning her neck cautiously over the edge as she held her breath-

...gone?

The whole pilot seat looked as if it had been looted from the cockpit. Her first thought, naturally, was that they had ejected... but then, why would the cockpit have closed after the fact? Had something transposed itself through solid metal, and simply... spirited them away?

A thousand unpleasant thoughts clamored for attention, and the Omer Scientist tried to distract herself by examining the control panel. Her fingers flipped a few switches, but to no avail - it had given up the ghost. With no supplies to be found, Seti kicked off from the surface of the Mobile Suit, and began to return to her comrades - as much as her curiosity was burning, the sense they were being watched was only growing stronger with every passing second...

---

(Deep breaths, Emma. You can do this.)

Even now, the sight of it made her feel sick.

The F-4 Phantoms, the Type-77, gutted like fish. The cockpit of one practically bludgeoned in, the other, as if it had been terribly disemboweled in some moment of extreme violence. Tiny droplets of sweat formed on her forehead, and every time she blinked, she could see the silhouettes of those horrors from the Hive again, rising up to devour her-

"Emma?"
"Your heart rate's abnormal. Are you okay?"

The convict blinked as the voices of her teammates crackled to life in her ears, only now realizing how long she'd been floating in one spot. The other two had finished already, and here she was, dragging her feet? She slapped the sides of her helmet, the impact shaking her back to reality.

"...Yeah, I'm alright. I'll be finished in a minute here."

She made her way over to the Type-77, and landed on its grey surface. Strange. The rest were all in various states of disrepair, but this one seemed fine? She reached for the emergency hatch release outside the cockpit, prising it loose just as her training had dictated so many years ago, and pulled the manual-release lever, leaning back as she waited expectantly for it to blow-

 

[Chaos]

The Type-77's hatch grudgingly parted. The sharp bang of the release sent it clattering across the deck, both noises echoing into the still abyss. The interior was still perfectly intact, with only a few of the survival tools absent from the emergency kit. As if a stranded pilot had set out into their surroundings, and simply hadn't returned yet.

At the far end of the deck, the tremendous thuds drew nearer. Presently, a beaming monoeye peered at them from out of the gloom. It was followed shortly by the emergence of the stocky figure that owned it - a mobile suit, white with red trim. A secondary red lens gleamed atop each shoulder, set off by a smaller pair of headlights to each side. As it approached, these lights flickered to life, casting their conical beams out to sweep across the deck.

It moved stiffly, however. Slowly. Haltingly. Its joints creaked with each deliberate step. When at last it paused again, it stared at them with its one red eye, the electronic whine of its loudspeaker belching static into the void. A few more clicks, and the static cleared just slightly. Enough for a garbled voice to emerge.

"-t's... nature of... medica-... -ergency?"

 

[Nemesis]

"Gaaah! A Mobile Suit! We're dead!"

Seti hid behind Solana, trying to make herself look as small and un-threatening as possible as the former luchadore looked up inquisitively at the new arrival. She reflexively squinted her eyes, preparing for the hail of gunfire that would surely, surely end her kissless, sexless, handholdless life - but it didn't come. Rather, she felt Solana tap her helmet, yanking it back up in the direction of the cyber-cyclops.

"No te asustes, chica. Look."

She gestured in the direction of the faded white paintjob, the clear red bands across its surface, and the large, oblong backpack attached to its Wizard backpack hardpoints.

"Like a doctor, no?"

"...Oh." Said Seti, eventually.

"I... didn't know they had those. But, what's it doing here...?"

The test pilot lapsed into thought as the machine addressed them. Was it possible it was running on automatic? And, were there possibly survivors aboard? Regardless, the possibility that others might be trapped here temporarily overwhelmed her intense desire to leave. After all, she thought glumly - it would mean more of charging off into the void at the behest of the meatheads.

Speaking of which-

"Hola señor! Como estas? Me llamo Sola~!"

Seti gave out a strangled gasp as Sola practically shouted in the Hospital ZAKU's direction - just at the right moment for Emma to come floating up, a curious look on her features, her plundered supplies under her arm. The sight of the Phantom's interior had raised some uncomfortable questions - ones that couldn't wait.

"Hey egghead, we gotta talk. I don't think we're the only humans here... Oh."

She slowed, taking in the spectacle as Solana tried to make herself look as cute and helpless as possible, bringing her hands up to her face, sparkles practically bursting into being about her tanned features as she blinked, as though on the verge of tears.

"We're lost! Can you help us?"

 

[Chaos]

The Hospital ZAKU plodded its way right up to the periphery of the Getter's latent aura. Dwarfed by the super robot, it seemed to keep a respectfully wary distance. It was at least close enough that the edges of their illumination pool made its features more distinct. Its hull was well worn from service, what had once been a crisp white now dingy and faded. The scarlet trim bore similar wear, and a fair amount of crystalline rime at the edges besides.

Its Wizard pack was still in place, with the office module jutting out the back. But what could be seen of it from this angle suggested the windows were blocked with a layer of grime. The three modules for the mobile hospital were absent, though so too were the spare battery packs to power them. In its present state, it was basically an unarmed ambulance.

Mechanical creaks accompanied the movements of the monoeye, tracking from figure to figure. It blinked as it settled on Solana, the headlights illuminating the Getter in turn. There was a pause. A silence as it stared at her.

Presently, a pop and a click rattled from the loudspeaker. When it came back, the static had cleared just a bit more, but still only slightly better than a drive-in speaker at a dive restaurant.

"Help... yes. Yes, I'm h-...-to help. Co-... -th me, I-... to cam-..."

The ZAKU lifted one hand, its fingers spreading with no small amount of effort. A few pieces of crystal fell from the grooves between the digits, allowing a cluster of wires to shoot from each toward the Getter pilots - curling and twisting along the way with prehensile dexterity.

 

[Nemesis]

"SOLA!"
"Que? What's it do-"

A hand grabbed Solana's spacesuit roughly by the neck, yanking her back with all of its (admittedly, not much) might. A wire whipped through the air, scoring the ground where she'd once been. More advanced, along with the Hospital ZAKU, as Seti felt pain now shooting up her back from her impromptu suplex. Behind her, gunshots ripped through the air, knocking two more of the incoming wires off course, as Emma sighted down the survival-shotgun's length with impeccable aim.

"I think we've outstayed our welcome." She said tersely, as she leapt back, already fumbling for a pair of replacement shells when another wire zipped past, slicing a gash in her spacesuit's abdomen. The hunt for ammunition was abandoned in favor of slapping a quick-seal patch in its place, the convict scowling at the white cyclops.

"You don't say? Leg it!"

One after another, the trio scrambled back into the relative safety of the Getter's interior, the colossal Super Robot's eyes lighting up as it rose to its considerable fifty-five meters in height, its linebacker-like shoulders scraping the ceiling as it moved. A cascade of dirt and shattered metal rippled about its legs as it stood unsteadily, cape fluttering behind it into the void



"Ok Doctor Creepazoid, I got a beam with your name on it-"
"Emma, wait!"

The ominous emerald glow in the Getter's chest paused, as Seti's voice burst into Emma's thoughts, the convict rolling her eyes.

"There could still be survivors on the ship!"
"So?"
"So! Incapacitate! Use the axe... thing!"
"Fine. TOMAHAWK!"

Grudgingly, the Super Robot reached over to its shoulder, and unlatched what appeared to be a short, curved axe-blade, the handle jutting out from just behind it. Taking aim, the crimson monstrosity hurled the weapon forward, spinning like a discus, aimed to cleave clear through the midsection of the offending ZAKU... and, in all likelihood, anything behind it for the next fifty meters or so.

"That's not a tomahawk."
"More like a katar, of some kind-"
"Who asked you?"

 

[Chaos]

"...Wai-!"

The ZAKU angled itself back as the women started to run. As they started to shoot. The swarm of wires whipped this way and that, trying to snag a hold. To coil onto them, secure them for transport and triage. The head creaked as it turned slightly this way and slightly that, the monoeye blinking a few times in perplexity. Why were they running? The other arm came up to join the first, adding more retrieval wires to the dragnet, giving the Getter girls plenty to duck and dodge.

The voice seemed to gain more strength through its panic. The transmission clearing further still as the source spoke in shock.

"Where-... -you going? ...-rying to hel-... you!"

It was for naught. The three women retreated into their machine, and the behemoth rose. The wires retracted, and the ZAKU took a step back, poised to flee. A simple white ambulance cowering before the gargantuan Getter.

"Hey now... don-...-nything rash... I was jus-....-ring you back to camp fo-..."

It watched the titan shoulder its weapon. It took another step back.
It watched the titan aim. It began to turn.
It watched over one shoulder as the weapon was launched. It ran through halting steps, gears grinding against crystal to even move.

It promptly fell, as the discus slammed into is back, bit into its waist. Veered up, sheering off layers of armor, flaying the skin from its back. Clipped the engine port and the Wizard from its back, and then sailed off into the pitch black beyond. A tremendous crash accompanying the meeting of the ZAKU's front with the deck, leaving it sprawled on its belly.

The lights went out. The monoeye went dark. For all intents and purposes, the ZAKU lay lifeless. Save for the faint crackle of its loudspeaker.

"... why..."

"why can't I... save..."

 

[Nemesis]

The "tomahawk" swooped through the void, and landed expertly back in the Getter's grasp, which gave a fist-pump of excitement, mimicking its pilot as she whooped:

"Yeah, got 'em! Did you see that?"

Yet, there was only quiet from the other two, as they listened to the machine's somber, dying words. The convict scowled, as Seti eventually gave a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as the adrenaline started to wear off.

"Lo siento." Murmured Solana, crossing herself in reverence while the other two spoke, quietly.

"...Emma, let me take over."
"Tch. Knock yourself out."

A flash of metal, as the three component machines split apart and reformed in what felt like an instant, a wholly different shape taking the red demon's place. This one was tall, angular, and pointed in every aspect of the word, its white and blue colored body nearly the exact opposite of the brute that had preceded it, right down the the enormous drill mounted on its left forearm.



"It mentioned a camp. I'm going to see if I can find it. It beats wandering around out there with no direction, at least."

Getter-2 lowered its right hand towards the ZAKU's body - and a series of wires, ones not dissimilar to those that had only just menaced the team shot forth, lancing into the grooves in the fallen Mobile Suit's neck, searching for a port to which it could connect among the metal. As it did so, the Drill was thrust downward, spiraling into the ship's hull - and a pulse of vibrant green energy was issued forth, gently reverberating through the wreck. Emma gave a low whistle of appreciation, as data began to fill their monitors.

"Neat trick. How'd you know it could do that?"

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line, before Seti finally responded:

"I, uh... I didn't."

The former League test pilot lifted her hands from the controls, uncertainly. Was the Getter responding to them? Had it been the sudden act of violence that was now causing it to modify, to change itself? Or had it always had this capacity, and she'd just... never noticed?

"It just sort of... happened."