The North Wind and the Sun (Jade, Verus)

Callisto Orbit
Relay Point Sigma-One-Eight (Defunct)
12:00 PM

Silence.

The halls of the Angrboda were quiet as the void outside, save for the occasional distant thud of a Karel as it lurched along, in pursuit of some assigned task. An off-white haro rolled across the clean, polished floor, and rolled to a stop against a dark boot, bonking off its surface comically as it lilted back, mechanical eyes flashing as it tilted its head up at its taskmaster.

"Hm?"

Albertine Crane opened her eyes in response to the slight movement, slowly rising from where she had been reclining in her seat. The bridge of the ship lay before her, no other living thing in sight. It was almost enough to make her miss Wolfgang's incessant prattling, she thought. He had even attempted to create a series of finger puppets to entertain her, so that she might at least not feel so alone. Almost.

A marvel, she thought, that men were so adept at completely misreading the fairer sex.

Soft, platinum blonde hair fell down her shoulders in waves as she reached down, pulling the Haro up onto her lap and giving it a small pat, blinking slowly as she turned it back and forth quizzically.

"Did I miss one?" She wondered out loud, even that mild timbre practically sending echoes into the space around her. Shaking her head, she flicked the automaton open, tip-tapping away at its internal monitor and keypad, queuing up a series of tasks about the ship that needed to be completed before setting it down, leaving it to roll away back down into the hall. A quick check of the clock - it was almost time.

She thumbed a switch on the chair, rising off it as she did so, letting the light of the distant sun fill the bridge and illuminate her destination, shielding her eyes against the brightness as the shutters groaned open.


The Devil Moon, Callisto.

The fact that they had come this far without incident alone was nothing short of a miracle, she thought. The relay points had grown increasingly ragged and unreliable, and to go any further would require... a specialist.

Wakenet had very, very few organiztions of this caliber who were willing to take such a risk, but somehow she had managed to find one willing to be both guide and guardian. She could only hope they were as good as their reputation suggested. With a low sigh, she whipped her red coat back over her shoulder, and looked out into the void once more.

"...I will not fail." She said, seemingly to herself, as the Angrboda's sensors began to scan for any approaching vessels...

It was quiet. The sort of eerie quiet that often prevails when becalmed at sea. Doubtless the quiet was all the more oppressive for the woman, given her lack of companions. The sort of stage-setting stillness that often came before uncanny encounters, when the barrier between worlds thinned and nature itself fled before the trespass from the other side. Or perhaps simply the natural repulsion present in electromagnetic phenomena, often said to be either cause or catalyst for such events. Not that any sound usually traveled in the void anyway - space was naturally as silent as the grave.

At length there did come a beeping, abruptly breaking the silence. Sensors had detected a contact - a small one, to be certain. A trio of spaceboats on the smaller end of the scale, not likely to hold more than a handful of people each at best. They flew in formation with the larger of their number at the center - something of a large rocket with a cockpit in its nose and a pair of curved pylons on its sides. The other two were thin escort craft, little more than cockpits mounted to a fuselage and three beam turrets each on bracing arms.

They closed in at a docile speed. No doubt they knew by now they'd been detected. Sensor pings flew back and forth as the machines eyed each other. Once they had closed enough distance to be within easy visual range, the lead craft lit its signal lamp, and began to pulse out a message letter by letter:

On the bridge, wrapped in her blanket of silence, as the shrouds circled her, Albertine closed her eyes for a brief moment. She could sense the data being conveyed to her by the ship, the do-re-mi-ti-li-fa-so of information dancing across the surface of her brain, in its pure, pixelated merriment. The mind of an Innovator was a curious one, the three shapes outside carving swathes, echoes through the GN Particles spread by the Angrboda, like fish through water, the ripples brushing her outstretched senses like swaying reeds.

Within its berth at the heart of the ship, connected to the core of the vessel, the Plutone stirred. Emerald eyes flickered awake in response to the external stumuli - but a slight, raised hand was all that was needed to quell its spirit, and the lights quickly dimmed. There was no need for that, she thought. Not yet, at least, things being what they were.

Instead, she nodded to the closest Haro, and began to make her way to the rear of the vessel, alone.

On the exterior, there initially seemed to be no response. It was as if it were merely a dead, drifting hulk, its chipped paint and curled, lumbering arms merely the latest refuse cast to this deep, desperate part of the cosmos... But, at length-

There was... Light.

The expansive hangar doors at the heart of the of the Angrboda groaned open, telltales winking out to form twin rows of twinkling lights that invited the outsiders further in. Closer inspection would have revealed the presence of Karels, floating out as they were exposed to the zero-G environment, occasionally bonking into one another as they hurried over the sides of the ship, spraying paint and sealant, as though they had been denied this vital task for quite some time.

The pulsing of the tender's lamp was spelled out in kind on the longboat's monitor. The glint of it reflected off the lenses of the pilot's helmet, before they turned away to punch in an all-clear to their escorts, and then lay in a new set of coordinates. The three craft came about once more, their shadows gliding along the tender's muscular arms. They swung round toward the open port in unison, closing on the awaiting deck in a line of three.

Just before reaching the gaping maw, the two escorts fired their retrorockets to fall just behind the longboat and flush with each other. Engines were cut, verniers fired, and the three turned their noses in the air while they rode their inertia down into the chamber. One by one their magnetic moorings latched onto the deck plate, securing the trio of twenty-meter spires to the center of the hangar. As they came to a stop sitting on their engines, their cockpits were poised closer to the ceiling. The figures that emerged from the canopies, then, disembarked onto the nearer surface. The soft thud of mag boots punctuated their touchdown.



All told there were three of them - only the occupants of each craft's forward canopy. They were of similar statures and identical kits, each one clad in an EVA suit of slimming fabric between reinforced plates. It lent them an angular, vaguely skeletal silhouette, topped off by a helmet stylized as a skull. The two escorts were visibly armed, the envoy from the longboat at their fore as they awaited their counterpart.

The grave figures stepped out of their craft, smoke and steam curling about their legs, giving them an aura like something out of a B-grade horror movie - invaders, from another world!

For a few minutes, there was silence... and then a soft pyon noise.

Something bounced gently off the boot of the lead envoy, rolling back on its heel. A white-and red polka-dot Haro blinked up at them from below, its colorful, cartoonish countenance a stark contrast to their own grim figure.

"Haro! Welcome aboard the Angrboda, Haro!" It chirped cheerily, eyes blinking rapidly before it rolled slightly back.

It wasn't long before more appeared, hopping, bouncing and rolling through the airlock as it pressurized, easily over two dozen of the things in a rainbow of colors that all chattered at one another playfully in a din. It was almost enough to obscure the arrival of their contact as she floated through the entryway, a hand occasionally reaching out to gently push aside a Haro, sending it tumbling away with a cutesly melodramatic wail.

In contrast to the other denizens of the vessel, the woman before them seemed tame, save for those strange eyes, which looked over their fearsome appearance with polite, restrained curiosity. The only thing somewhat out of place was the gun at her hip, which while hardly a rarity in this day and age, did not seem the typical kind employed in a low gravity environment. Rather, the slender revolver was holstered with great care, and her hand never seemed to drift too far from it. Perhaps one could just never be too sure?

"Doctor Albertine Crane of Jamsaxa." She said, unbidden as she came to a slow, gliding halt, letting a haro hop into her open hands, where it flapped its wings for attention.

"Your timing is impeccable."

The third man back was the only one to give the Haros more than a passive glance. Their head slowly rotated as their vision tracked across the flock of Haros, then arced to glance toward this collision or that outburst. The other two ahead of them held steady, idly awaiting the arrival of a representative. At least, a representative who was more communicative. Or more humanoid anyway.

Their heads showed little motion, though the stony gaze of the helmet concealed where exactly their eyes might be directed. It was only when Crane neared that the leader shifted their stance, meeting her gaze with glinting, polarized lenses somewhere between midnight blue and inky black. There was a moment's pause in silence before the eyes and lines of the helmet came to life in a modest flash of red. As the initial glare subsided, it left the eyes with glowing red pupils. The formerly black seams lining the temples and cheekbones glimmered with a similar gleam.

That unwavering stare bore back into her eyes as the figure spoke, the rich baritone voice aged, masculine, and slightly tinny as it emerged from the speaker.

"I intend to cleanse Callisto."

The response was immediate and firm, the woman's voice cutting through the chatter of the Haros as they fell silent as one, and grew still. Playtime, it seemed, was over. She lightly tapped the head of the Haro in her hands, causing its eyes to light up, projecting a holographic image of Callisto above the group. The good Doctor hardly seemed intimidated by the figures - or at least, appeared not to be as she continued, drawing a finger across the display as it zoomed in, displaying areas highlighted across the planet's surface in bright, vivid orange compared to small oasis of blue.



"No cleanup operation has been attempted since the Devil Moon was abandoned." Explained Crane,

"Now, we have the technology to change that."

She tapped a finger on the planet's scarred, scabbed surface - and a swath of the bright orange, highlighted patches cleared away, as though it had been scrubbed clean. She pulled a hand back, zooming out the display once more to a map of the Jovian Moons. Various routes were highlighted, many having evidently been explored before and found unsuitable, with big red "X' marks surrounding the Devil Moon.

"However, in order to do so, we must establish both a safe route to Callisto, and a base of operations. The latter is already stored upon this ship, the former..."

She looked back into the eyes of the lead man, unflinchingly.

"...is all up to you."

The figure watched just as immovably. And once the presentation was concluded, answered simply.

"To what end?"

As the two groups descended into the atmosphere of Callisto, they would be soon met with a great view of honestly what seemed the furthest thing from the name of ‘Devil Moon’. Shades and hues of all kinds of greenery stretched out as far as the eye could see, the moon appearing more as a massive jungle that went without end. Though within the green, scattered about was remnants of the concrete jungle that gave proof to the fact that there once was civilization here on this land. Though most were covered by moss or other plant-life, creating massive towers of greenery, with even trees having grown through and atop buildings. Between the pre-war ruins and rampant floral life, it was a scene out of prime post-apocalyptica that would be a gold mine for both archaeologists and connoisseurs of such media.

For Dr. Albertine who wanted to cleanse the moon, it hardly seemed like there was much ‘cleansing’ to do. All was peaceful around them, and they could even seem wreckages of Praetorians from before the war, inactive and thoroughly annihilated. Whatever ‘threat’ that was here once, perhaps someone or something had already taken care of it.

However, there was perhaps one thing concerning, which would come up on both the Angrboda and Nimue’s sensors as they surveyed the land.

Throughout all the atmosphere, DG Cells were spread far and wide, likely covering the entirety of the planet. They weren’t in any concentration that would be enough to affect machinery, likely, but if a human were to come in direct contact with the atmosphere, it was far beyond what was tolerable for a human to survive intact. The party would need to tread carefully, as the atmosphere here provided little more of a safety net than the lack of it in space.

As they continued to scan their surroundings and look further out, far into the distance, there was one thing that their eyes would be drawn to. Far away, perhaps a hundred kilos or more, was a massive monolithic structure of sorts that towered over the land in its entirety. As their eyes would meet with it, chills would run down their spine, perhaps as if one was standing in front of a serial killer they knew not about. From this distance they could scant make out any details of the structure, yet for some reason, they felt like it was watching them.

Watching and… waiting.

For what exactly, they knew not. Perhaps the only way would be to proceed towards it.

Whether they wished to do that now or set up a base of operations in the area, was up to them. At the very least, it seemed like they had an end goal of sorts in where to go.

Albertine's eyes raised at the bluntness of the question. For some people, knowing that there was a mountain that others deemed impossible to climb would have been sufficient, but the individuals before her demanded a harder sell.

"Considerable resources were put into terraforming Callisto-" She said, crisply- but then paused, as though recognizing her tone, bringing an immaculately filed thumb up under her lip in pensive thought. Her gaze flicked down to the Haro in her hands, wiggling its "ears" in a bid for further attention, patting its sides gently with her free hand before continuing.

"Once, it was a flourishing hub of humanity. A bridge that would serve as a nexus for interplanetary trade and travel, a modern Silk Road that would lead from Earth, to the cosmos beyond."

The Haro turned over and over in her grip as she continued thoughtfully, seemingly unable to deviate from her more clinical style of speech. A more astounding contrast could not have been made between the prim figure before them, and the bombastic man fighting for his life on Europa in her name in the near future, sadly the absolute furthest thing from her mind at present.

"Isn't it time it was reclaimed? Does not all of Jupiter - all of mankind - stand to benefit from being rid of this blight?"

Her eyes met that impassive mask once again. Was she afraid? Intimidated? The mask was so immaculate, it betrayed almost nothing. Almost coyly, she looked down, as though embarrassed, as the Haros excitedly hopped at her feet. Charming as romantic optimism was, there might be need for something more... concrete.

"Of course... I don't expect you to help with this for free."

The two other figures, thus far choosing to remain silent, nonetheless kept an eye on the milling robots and the woman who handled them. Their representative remained almost motionless while she spoke, still as death and just as immovable. It was only once she finished, and raised the proposition of compensation that one of the guards at his flank saw fit to spare a glance his way. Then to their counterpart. Then back again, before resuming their vigil. At length, the skull man spoke again.

"... Understand. That this blight is anathema is not in question. That we would remove it, inevitable. In our own time."

His head cocked very slightly, very slowly, letting the pregnant pause hang a moment.

"The question is simply... 'Why now?' 'Why you?' What your purpose is here. What exactly you mean to do once you have a foothold here."

Those eyes. Those cold, steady eyes of glowing scarlet. If they had been any more piercing they would have sprouted lasers.

"After all. We would not want to trade one anathema for another."

"If not me, who? If not now, when?" She blinked in evident surprise at their statement they would remove the "blight", perhaps the first sign of being caught genuinely unawares she had displayed.

And yet, as she regained her composure... The silence in the room had suddenly grown even eerier as she stepped closer to the trio. Her eyes moved from the ones in the back... to the one out front, trailing all the way down to his armored hands. Hands that could snap her neck as easily as if it were a twig. One hand slipped into her coat pocket - though whether it was to grasp an unseen weapon, or merely to hide the sweat that now greased its palm, was uncertain.

The Haros had stopped their constant chirping and babbling. They now watched in stark silence, rows of eyes watching the group's every move from the circle they had formed around them.

"What anathema..." She asked the skull-faced man, in all his frigid coolness;

"Could a single, unarmed woman... bring to your door?"

The pair at his flank slowly and subtly tensed. Their grip on the rifles they had been holding the entire time had yet to shift, their fingers still laid carefully in parallel to their triggers. But one could sense the ease with which that could change at any moment. Their envoy, by comparison, neither tensed nor relaxed. He merely stood as he had the entire time, with an inscrutable but unflinching poise. And recited her words back to her.

"'None have attempted to cleanse the Devil Moon since it was abandoned.' Quite right. For they lacked means, motive, or opportunity."

The faint shift in his colleagues' helms suggested they might be letting their eyes drift to the Haros about them, but not quite far enough as to part them from the potential client.

"You claim the latter. And turn to us for the former. But your presence here, and the lengths to which you have already prepared for this task, beg the question. Indeed, how has a single, unarmed woman found her way to this position? What goal drives her to such ends with such imperative? And why does she suddenly seem so reticent after being so forthright?"

His head lifted, just slightly. As if an unseen breath had been drawn, and unseen weight shifted.

"I would have your answer, before I and mine entangle ourselves in this... enterprise of yours. Such ties are not to be entered lightly."

Albertine exhaled through her nose, slowly, as she listened. It wasn't a sign of exasperation per se, but the man's determination to get an answer seemed to be weighing upon her, each word another turn upon the rack. At length, she gave what amounted to a small sigh, a thumb coming up to her mouth to brush her lips before continuing.

"I serve the ends of a greater power. One that has the best interests of this region of space in mind. That is all I can safely disclose."

Her eyes, almost imperceptibly, flicked towards the silent Haros encircling the group. Their eyes now seemed to be entirely on her, as though she had uttered some grave faux pas. She shrugged her shoulders, rolling them as if a duck, or some great silver swan through water, not returning their stare. Instead, she turned her attention to her nails, as though one were scuffed or out of place, continuing almost absently:

"A mere Jovian wouldn't understand."

A new noise uttered forth from the assembled Haros, A stacatto click click click-ing, like the rattling of a thousand knives in unison, as they shook back and forth, practically vibrating on the spot. Albertine raised a palm in their direction, as if calling for silence - and they fell still once more, albeit with a noted reluctance. She turned her attention back to the three armored men, taking a few steps back, as though she were moving to leave.

"If that is insufficient... Then let us part ways." She said;

"After all, if you wanted to take this ship apart, piece by piece, there isn't anything I could do to stop you."