7:22 AM (local time)
Hangar 62
Roy Fokker Memorial Civilian Airfield
Macross City
A figure sat up from the bed in the side room, stretching in the morning light filtering in from the cracks in the coverage from blackout curtains stationed on the sole window of the room. In the near-darkness there wasn't as much silence as one would think. The soft and near-subsonic hum of machinery filled the immediate air around the figure until a slender finger reached up and clicked a button on the sleek and futuristic collar around their neck. The hum raised to an audible pitch for a moment then spun down as the collar and it's pads that ran over the carotid arteries stopped their tingling sensation from prolonged contact with bare skin.
Annette Grandis waved a hand casually in the near-total darkness and the lighting in the room gentle warmed in a soft amber to give a dim but full illumination to the bedroom. She freed the collar from her neck and set the device on a nearby nightstand before stretching and arching her body as she enjoyed the sensation of flexing muscles straining at their mortal limits before the tension left her. As she ruffled her honey blonde bobcut to scratch her scalp in a half-daze still from just waking up, she flung the simple sheet off to a nude frame beneath. Sighing to herself Annette closed her blue eyes against the gentle light in the room and made her way out of the lovely embrace of her warm bed to go get ready for the day.
About fifty minutes later Annette was sitting at a small table in the good-sized break room-like dining room and kitchenette, staring at the laptop screen in front of her as she ate an egg sandwich with a few strips of bacon on the side. There was also a small bowl of already-sliced fruit sitting to the side but that was for dessert. Her free and clean right hand tapped the buttons of the keyboard to cycle through her emails and reports from various sources she had access to.
She swallowed her mouthful of food and muttered aloud to herself. "So they've not had any breakthroughs while I've been asleep. A pity." As she finished eating her sandwich and then the bacon, the hum in the back of her mind raised in pitch and Annette's face grew thoughtful as she focused on the internal sound.
The Voice was right. The problems facing the world were not something to be solved in the span of a night's sleep by people who had insomnia or had been smashing their heads against worldly issues for years. It still kind of irked her, though.
"Really? I thought it was less than that. Guess that's not the only thing that needs calibration." A few more clicks of the laptop's buttons occurred before she gave it a disgusted grimace and slid the fruit bowl over in front of her. She picked up a small metal skewer - a tiny two-prong fork in polished steel - and absentmindedly started stabbing the fruit chunks before lifting them to her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. For all the work everyone was putting in to problems like the BETA and Tiberium no one seemed to have a solution beyond 'throw bodies at the problem until we drown it in blood'. Now, she wasn't squeamish at all about blood - quite the opposite, really! - but there was a stark difference between spilling it and wasting it.
The Voice was oddly mum on the subject, but it probably meant that it'd be messing with the timeline to just come out and tell her how it worked. Ah, well.
Annette changed her placement to the office space she'd set up in the hangar she had on lease via the United Nations; more her home at this point than anything else. Her work as a liaison to Macross City from the global entity was important. Maintaining links between points of civilization and especially ones threatened on multiple fronts by the devouring locusts that were the BETA was vital to Humanity's continued survival on their home world.
As she sent off correspondence to her higher-ups and to her counterparts within the government of the city, she worked on the stupid but needed paperwork of bureaucratic processes. Another part of her wondered if she'd get any visitors today, or if she could excuse herself to take a quick flight in her Variable Fighter under the pretext of maintaining her flight hours...
Hangar 62
Roy Fokker Memorial Civilian Airfield
Macross City
A figure sat up from the bed in the side room, stretching in the morning light filtering in from the cracks in the coverage from blackout curtains stationed on the sole window of the room. In the near-darkness there wasn't as much silence as one would think. The soft and near-subsonic hum of machinery filled the immediate air around the figure until a slender finger reached up and clicked a button on the sleek and futuristic collar around their neck. The hum raised to an audible pitch for a moment then spun down as the collar and it's pads that ran over the carotid arteries stopped their tingling sensation from prolonged contact with bare skin.
Annette Grandis waved a hand casually in the near-total darkness and the lighting in the room gentle warmed in a soft amber to give a dim but full illumination to the bedroom. She freed the collar from her neck and set the device on a nearby nightstand before stretching and arching her body as she enjoyed the sensation of flexing muscles straining at their mortal limits before the tension left her. As she ruffled her honey blonde bobcut to scratch her scalp in a half-daze still from just waking up, she flung the simple sheet off to a nude frame beneath. Sighing to herself Annette closed her blue eyes against the gentle light in the room and made her way out of the lovely embrace of her warm bed to go get ready for the day.
❈~~~❈~~~❈~~~❈~~~❈
About fifty minutes later Annette was sitting at a small table in the good-sized break room-like dining room and kitchenette, staring at the laptop screen in front of her as she ate an egg sandwich with a few strips of bacon on the side. There was also a small bowl of already-sliced fruit sitting to the side but that was for dessert. Her free and clean right hand tapped the buttons of the keyboard to cycle through her emails and reports from various sources she had access to.
She swallowed her mouthful of food and muttered aloud to herself. "So they've not had any breakthroughs while I've been asleep. A pity." As she finished eating her sandwich and then the bacon, the hum in the back of her mind raised in pitch and Annette's face grew thoughtful as she focused on the internal sound.
".ɘlqmiƨ oƨ Ɉ'nƨi mɘldoɿq ɘʜɈ ɈɒʜɈ wonʞ υoY .bɘƨiɿqɿυƨ oƨ ɘd Ɉ'noႧ"
The Voice was right. The problems facing the world were not something to be solved in the span of a night's sleep by people who had insomnia or had been smashing their heads against worldly issues for years. It still kind of irked her, though.
".ƨɿɘɈɘmoɔiq 8टट.ƐƖ γd ʇʇo ƨɒw ɘɔnɒiɿɒv ɘbυɈilqmA .ɈʜϱinoɈ qɘɘlƨ oɈ oϱ υoγ ɘɿoʇɘd noiɈɒɿdilɒɔ ƨbɘɘn ɿoɈɒlυmiɈƧ ɿɒlυɔƨɒV ɘʜT"
"Really? I thought it was less than that. Guess that's not the only thing that needs calibration." A few more clicks of the laptop's buttons occurred before she gave it a disgusted grimace and slid the fruit bowl over in front of her. She picked up a small metal skewer - a tiny two-prong fork in polished steel - and absentmindedly started stabbing the fruit chunks before lifting them to her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. For all the work everyone was putting in to problems like the BETA and Tiberium no one seemed to have a solution beyond 'throw bodies at the problem until we drown it in blood'. Now, she wasn't squeamish at all about blood - quite the opposite, really! - but there was a stark difference between spilling it and wasting it.
The Voice was oddly mum on the subject, but it probably meant that it'd be messing with the timeline to just come out and tell her how it worked. Ah, well.
❈~~~❈~~~❈~~~❈~~~❈
Annette changed her placement to the office space she'd set up in the hangar she had on lease via the United Nations; more her home at this point than anything else. Her work as a liaison to Macross City from the global entity was important. Maintaining links between points of civilization and especially ones threatened on multiple fronts by the devouring locusts that were the BETA was vital to Humanity's continued survival on their home world.
As she sent off correspondence to her higher-ups and to her counterparts within the government of the city, she worked on the stupid but needed paperwork of bureaucratic processes. Another part of her wondered if she'd get any visitors today, or if she could excuse herself to take a quick flight in her Variable Fighter under the pretext of maintaining her flight hours...