A Rough Year Caught Between Sea and Sky

by nachttour

The planet Terra is a vital waypoint to both Alternian and Beforan trolls. Recently there has been an onslaught of giant naturae. To help deal this issue and others arising from it, the Inter-Impterial Task Force has been arranged, and the jaegers of the program sent out to deal with the threat. Both kids and trolls will be tested as they drift, battle and survive.

1. Chapter 1

A Rough Year, Caught Between Sea and Sky

Warnings: AU, Crossover, Zombies, Multiple Narrators, Clones, Non-Human Socialization, Parasitic Fungus

Tags: Crossover, Pacific Rim/Homestuck, All Hands on Deck, All Trolls, All Kids, Ancestors, Giant Robots, NoSBURB/SGRUB Session

Chapter 1: Hangar, Ocean, Med Bay

Inter-Imperial Task Force HQ : Terra, Sol System

[Dirk]

"STRIDER! GET DOWN!"

"WE ARE OUT OF TIME! THEY HAVE TO GO NOW."

Dirk skittered along one of the connecting girders of the support structures of Pounce, bare feet finding better purchase on the metal than his sneakers usually did. Prior to the alarms he had been on break, and there was not sufficient time to consider shoes. Years of playing in scaffolding and rafters ensured that he would not plummet the bone-shattering distance down to the bay floor.

The response he delivered was not so much a bark, as assertive enough to be heard over klaxons and a variety of other environmental noise. One ought not raise their voices at their superiors if they wanted to keep their tongue in their head and attached. There were two issues abundantly clear. The first was that they were indeed out of time. The jaeger needed to go. It needed to be gone about three minutes ago and what was stopping it were a few ill-connected wire and safety protocols. At least in terms of the empire one of those two things could be ignored.

No one would miss a human.

"IF YOU FALL INTO THAT SUBSTANCE IT WILL VERY NEATLY SLOUGH YOUR EPIDERMIS OFF."

Equius Zahhak was very swiftly ascending a ladder. Really with much greater speed than Dirk would be given to expect from a troll of his stature. All of his cover-model silky hair was sticking to his face and getting in the way. It had a tendency to escape during work. His encroachment only spurred him to faster work. If they were both on the same problem it just slowed everything down. Sliding down to get into the offending-panel Dirk yanked a wire back into place and quickly taped a couple of other things. One little problem of a light returned to the right color and everything could get back underway.

This was highly atypical of their hangar.

One of the peons was probably going to loose a non-essential digit over it.

That peon was not going to be him. All of his work got checked in triplicate; both for fear of his life and also due to a saturating sense of professionalism. The grass-green on the floor with the queasy look on his face apparently did not share his enthusiasm for quality. This was a shame. Equius' moirail was comfortably ensconced in a contact suit and already drifting with her partner. Anything that would prevent her safety was a regrettable error indeed. More to the point, clock was ticking. Skidding back along the scaffold Dirk slammed the panel shut and pinged back to the flight-desk, giving them a code-clear.

The support system began the disengaging process and he slid his glasses down his nose a touch so he could fully enjoy the sights of his city of mobile metal and wire. Electricity flashed along wires and things smoothly slid from one bracket to the other. The mech – jaeger-class, mark 7 – eased down and out of waiting position, elevator carrying it to the deployment range of the bay where from there it stepped down and out. Feeling the vibration of the scaffolding beneath him he righted his glasses and turned to face his irritated superior. Zahhak dangled his shoes by the laces, staring reproachfully down his nose at him as they gently swung and pivoted.

"You are not following correct bay etiquette and are out of uniform. You are also in violation of a variety of safety and behavioral codes. Follow me down. Now."

Reaching out and taking the offered footwear Dirk slipped them back on, giving the troll a succinct nod and descending after him. The likelihood of debilitating punishment was low. Pilots Feferi and Nepeta were out and safe and presumably the Kaiju would not be encroaching any closer to the hangar within the day. All and all, it was worth it to see the consternation on Zahhak's face.

[Aranea]

The nice thing about being the driftmate to the Her Imperious Condescension's genetic redundancy was not having to go out and fight constantly. This also meant that there were other duties to attend to when not in active-duty. They were a reserve unit and did not frequently sortie. There had been a variety of opportunities presented to her for other work, but; the one that she had chosen suited her best: communications attache to the Beforun Empire. The title spanned longer than that; but, it condensed nicely into its important parts. She was responsible for keeping certain trolls in the know as to the movements and behaviors of the Alternian government at the Terra Base in the Sol galaxy when not keeping Meenah Peixes within her physical proximity. Being in the proximity of Meenah also afforded her a second and more simple title. Pilot. Between the two of them they drove the jaeger Loom – a suit primarily designed to scout and map and assist in strategic planning. The sensors on it were exquisitely high-definition and caught things that most of the rest of the suits in the program could not begin to fathom.

Otherwise a rather picayune class-five planet Terra (Earth to the natives); Terra held strategic relevance thanks to the jump-gate parked happily off of Sol itself, leeching its life-blood from a Dyson sphere lovingly carved around the star. The galactic point served as a hub for interstellar movements and an area of relative galactic stability. Thusly, both empires needed a stake. Tensions had been high, particularly given the sudden influx of over-large and over-aggressive naturae. The source and motivation of the 'kaiju' as they were called by the ambient human populations was a source of unprecedented inter-imperial cooperation.

Comfortably settled on the couch in their communal hive-block she was interrupted from her descriptive musings by Meenah's sock-clad feet in her lap. "SE-RKET."

"Mee~nah."

"I am so incredibly bored. As we speak I am turning into a family of barnacles and adhering to the surface on which I lie."

Fond of her copilot and her need for constant action and delight, Aranea drew a claw up the line of her shin, fanning her fingers over Meenah's knee like a spiderweb.

"If you go out to one of the outlooks and sing sea-shanties really hard, maybe we'll get another natura- ahem. Pardon me, I like the human word better – we'll get another kaiju. And then if everyone else are spectacular suckerfishes then we can take a trident to it."

Meenah looked down the line of her body at her. The regal hue of her eyes had lost the hypnotic sway it held when they were first introduced. Now all Aranea felt was a warm fondness that curled tight in her thorax and spread its feelers out toward her copliot when they drifted. Meenah despised the implication of her eyes; but was not above enjoying the terror they invoked in others. Throwing her hands up in consternation her bracelets rattled and jangled and she arched her back up in an arc of pure woe.

"Nothing on this coddamn planet listens to me when I summon it! You would think that I'm on Alternia Prime for as much of a damn as the naturae give 'bout me."

Things were different in the Beforun territories and they both knew it. In those parts of space, people caught one look at the severe set of her jaw and her cold, mercilessly sharp eyes and their spines straightened even while they tried to hide their shaking hands. As a genetic-copy of the Condescension within the Beforun Empire's control, Meenah was a political treasure. She could claim right to the Condescension's throne due to sub-clauses in brood-law if something left the throne standing, or if she ever felt foolish enough to challenge the Condescension outright. The hope of those that had raised her was that she would unite the territories into a galactic empire once again; and that somehow all of the political, moral, and ethical dilemmas that had prompted the schism during the wars in the first place would disappear like fog beneath the rays of her beneficence.

The result was not quite as they had hoped, and something Aranea was secretly glad for.

Meenah enlisted under false credentials with some pointed and well-coordinated help and absconded, ending up in neutral territory where it would be tricky to extradite her. The Alternians were happy to have her in the thick of it when the kaiju started appearing and the Beforuns were unwilling to push and risk an incident. There remained a certain contingent that had no desire to be associated with the Alternian side of their species and preferred the independence that the split afforded. Still others appreciated the hegemony that ruled their side of the galaxy and had no plans to return to a totalitarian monarchy.

Prior to being assigned to the IITF Aranea had been working as an archivist in one of the government databases. Craving something new and beautiful and adventurous while she was still young, she volunteered for the post. From what she understood, Beforun presence in most cases was not compulsory. Alternian presence was, and the trolls that were there showed the difference in the quality of personnel.

One of Meenah's toe-claws scraped along the inner corner of her elbow, fuchsia enamel glittering.

"Starfish. Hello~~? Terra to Aranea. Are you receiving? Or 'm I going to have to go and find someone else to talk to?"

Tapping her temple with a forefinger, she smiled quietly, mimicking reception. "This is Aranea. Terra you are clear to transmit. What is your message?"

Meenah leaned up on her sharp elbows, light glittering off of the panes of her glasses with the shift in position. "We need to find something for me to do otherwise I'm about to do such an acrobatic flip-"

"-Right off the handle." Aranea finished the sentence for her, pressing her thumb hard along the arch of her copilot's foot, watching her fangs catch her bottom-lip in brief pleasure. "You are a huntress, I know you need something to do."

On her knees her tablet flared fiercely to life, a scattering of windows and other notifications jumping up. Quietly shoving Meenah's feet off of her lap she began the process of getting properly suited up, pulling off her comfortable clothes and molding her work jumpsuit over her body. Meenah sat perked up on the couch, fins flared and mouth parted in a hopeful smile. "We both going, or just you?"

"Just me for now. Inter-departmental shit that you hate and I know you hate so don't tell me that you don't hate it-"

"-fine, I won't tell you I hate it-"

"-but I think we're going out today, you might want to suit up. Things went bad with the Nitram-squared team." Ignoring the little whoop of delight, Aranea bustled down the halls.

Rose Lalonde stood at her side, tablet perched just-so in her arms, rapidly and dutifully taking notes. Much like the other humans she wore slate-gray clothes – they had no hemostatus to confer to trolls via fashion and letting them dress ostentatiously in bright and mixed colors was confusing to the soldiers.

As a result, when they were at work they were effectively hemoanonymous and dressed to the effect. This logic never did much for Aranea, who had defected to the Beforun side to avoid the hemospectrum and enjoy a different sort of life; but, the Alternians were the ones that had taken Terra first and the ones that enslaved the human populations. That initial contact set the tone for the mixed-society that resulted from the blending of their peoples. It was agreed that the humans were clever and canny and had reasonable contributions to make to the empire, on the assumption that they were loyal. To this effect there was not a species-cleansing.

It was not a pleasant, nor easy transition and high amounts of the mammalian species had been eradicated. Generations upon generations until there was no living memory of freedom. Instead there were delicate, wailing little fleshy beings carried on the hips of carapaces and some jades that were offered a choice between the brooding caverns of Alternia prime or other nurturing duties on colonies. It took some trial and error and the infant-mortality rate was high—humans did not pupate, they bred in a different fashion that was incomprehensible to the first waves and initial governing bodies that set up on Terra.

The entrance of the Beforun Empire later only effected small changes in the fate of the humans. While generally more well-intentioned than the Alternians there were still many ethical and moral questions that her government simply was not equipped to address nor take a formal stance on. Small steps would lead to larger and more sweeping, of course.

However, the point at hand had nothing to do with the rights of homosapiens and required her more targeted attention. The tactical advisers were speaking rapid fire and Rose kept up admirably, making notations and adding some of her own when they bickered with each other. Glancing to her side, she offered a controlled and vague smile.

"Miss Serket I assume that you understand the tactical relevance of this? If not the ramifications to your person?"

Offering a tight smile back, she answered in a sotto voice so as not to interrupt the speakers. "Of course. We were hopeful that the two Nitrams would have some luck given their abilities and piloting skills. This was not the case so other options must be taken. With most of the other jaegers deployed at an inconvenient distance we shall have to tap into the reserves. Those reserves include Loom, and therefore myself and Meenah."

"Just so." Rose nodded, adding a few more notes. "Why do you suppose they proved ineffective in this case where they have been before? And why is it that their vanguard failed, and yet somehow managed to pull itself back to base?"

The tone of her voice was soft and inquisitive and Aranea felt a fierce admiration for the mind at work next to her. Those were questions bouncing around her own head. Usually they did not let the Nitrams out without at least two other escort jaegers. The primary function of that team was not to aggress, but instead to provide support and their unique brand of skill. Really the jagers served as armor so that the two trolls who piloted it could get within range of the giant naturae without being crushed or suffering the environmental effects that accompanied some of the creatures.

Both of them had psychic affinity toward most naturae, and while one Nitram on their own did not seem to be able to sway and direct the behemoths; but, together the two of them together did quite well. They were genetically similar and also both cull-listed, barring their type of psychic skill. They were carriers for the wing-gene, which for reasons both terrible and historic resulted in an instant-cull on detection. Had they not proved useful they would had been branded dead. Instead, their ability with naturae had saved their lives.

If they been able to make it into sovereign space, they would have been able to file for sanctuary in the Beforun territories – it was a standing offer that her government extended. Not entirely altruistic, it encouraged populations into their space, and expanded the body of trolls that they governed, and thusly the genetic diversity due to the Mothers. In many cases, rescued thoughtful and inventive minds that the Alternians would have disregarded in their rigid and caste-motivated population-grooming. This unfortunately had not been possible and instead they ended up with the IITF.

"Do they have any enemies?" This was a trait about herself that Aranea did not appreciate or attempt to cultivate. Being able to consider all angles and assume the worst motivations of people after intuiting what they might be came to her very easy. The counter-strategy after understanding those motivations was simple and ruthless. What would hurt the most? Who would she have to manipulate? What sorts of influence would she need to exert and over whom would she have to exert it? The thought-process made her excellent at her job and an unpleasant friend and lover. At least that would be the case of most trolls understood the extent of her temperament.

The smile ever-present on Rose's mouth was widening into something more genuine and slightly predatory. "It would be worth looking over, would it not?"

She was always very careful of how she spoke around trolls. Formal, polite, and pointed; Rose never wasted her listener's time nor gave them cause to assume that she was groveling. The ones that groveled did not make it very long. Aranea responded well to her, she was interested in the blade-sharp mind hiding behind her pleasantly royal-hued eyes. Had she had the luck to be hatched a troll rather than born a human, she would have been a holy terror.

"I think that I just might. Please note your concerns and forward them to the personnel department. We really could not afford to loose either of them and now we are down a psiionic." This was not really her jurisdiction. She was high enough in caste that no one questioned her talking to the secretarial-type human or giving her direction.

The speakers finished, one of the specialists turning her way. "Pilot Serket, did you have something to add?" Some of the technicians working around her flinched, apparently aware of what the tone of her voice meant. Their fluttering and nervousness reminded her of a flock of the tiny flutterbeasts that inhabited Terra.

Flashing a grin, she shook her head. "No Ma'm."

The specialist nodded, drumming her claws quietly over the keyboard, reaching for an answer that she was not finding on the screen. "You're suited up, I'm going to alert your copilot to get ready as well. The territory that the current kaiju is nearing is vital. We have several assets near by that need protecting. We're trying to find two other heavy suits that will be sufficient support. Assume you have a half hour to prep. We will forward maps to Loom before you begin your travel. Go."

"Ma'm." Briefly straightening her spine Aranea turn and hustled back toward her hive-block, figuring that Meenah probably would be prepared and waiting. She was not disappointed. The trip down to the staging area took mere minutes, Meenah's hand clamped tight around her own, and the other girl practically dragging her along. It would be a good fight. If it was not a good fight they would die. That was simply the way of it.

[Dave]

The best thing about working with Harley was her sense of space. That and her genetic-ancestor's excellent work on the jaegers allowed for the pair of them to unleash the full extent of Continuum's abilities. Though their handlers monitored vital statistics, brain activity, and to a limited extent even thoughts (inasmuch as one could intuit direction of thoughts based on brainwaves and physical response), no troll nor any of their tech-swarm realized that they could move through time.

Not very far, the furthest they had pushed it was a minute back. However, that minute had saved their collective asses more times than he could count on one hand. Jade swung over into his consciousness, a coil of sun on her warm brown skin and the sensation of working very hard on machinery. He could feel the slickness of oil on his hands and smell the weird, stale air of the upper-floors she always managed to get to, no matter how hard her caretaking jades (poor Porrim always run away from her get her in trouble) attempted to confine her to one area. In turn she felt the slide of a practice-sword in his hands as he went through drills with some of his genetic fellows, his sweaty feet sticking to the plastic mats beneath him, and blisters aching as he exerted pressure on them. There were a few other boys (Dirk David Bro) who were from a similar line of breeding; and they were taught along with others possessing similar skill-sets and temperaments. They practiced as a unit. At this point in their working relationship he was used to Jade with him and could not easily imagine drifting with anyone else.

Talking in the drift was not really discussions, most times. It did not generally involve vocalizations unless they needed to telegraph for the techs what their intentions were, so that adjustments could be made for power usage, recovery attempts, or any other number of instances regarding action. Jade was watching the actions of the wounded kaiju, currently bellowing and ineffectually smacking its tail against Pounce, which proceeded to bring its trident down and saw into the beast. Thanks to stronger armor and better stability mechanics, their sister-suit barely registered the impacts of the creature's last-ditch attempts at living.

This adversary was not as large as some of the others. It and it's escort seemed to be intended as a set of tandem hunters. When they had crushed the skull of the first, the second one became more erratic and furious—splashing about and wasting energy while snapping at the air. Psychic connection was not out of the question, and the death of the first fucked up the second one's day. Dave hated himself for even thinking it; but, he was glad that the Alternian ground forces believed in overwhelming opposition to whatever difficulties it encountered. If there were two enemies present, four suits were deployed. The other two suits in this theoretical situation were in the background, one with crippling damage and the other one enforcing a perimeter so that the remaining kaiju could not go underwater and abscond.

Jade was paying attention to something that was not the kaiju and it distracted him, pulling him into synch with her thought patterns.

"What?" In real time he was much more verbose.

"That."

'That' was a shimmery distortion in the air.

It remained a few seconds before disappearing. Noting it and logging it, Dave worried at a little bit of loose skin on his bottom-lip, rolling it between his teeth in thought. Previously there had been instances of the shimmery thing and so far none of the tech-swarm nor they could figure out why it appeared or if there it held any relevance to the kaiju making land. She wondered if it had to do with stellar-to-planetary transference. He thought that this did not have relevance – if Alternia or Beforus had an enemy with technology on that level, they would not waste time pumping giant naturae down to a way-station planet, even if the way-station planet had components that were necessary for interstellar travel. For one thing, that would assume that the giant motherfuckers were cultivated and fed in an ecosystem similar to theirs and that would allow them to quickly adapt—jesus fuck, the drift was good for some things but he often found himself thinking in scientist, a foreign and really boring language. Thanks to repeated exposure he was starting to pick up bits and pieces of the sub-dialects 'biologist' and 'astrophysicist'. The language he preferred was 'hot, fresh beats' and 'gonna murder you with a piece of sharpened metal'. Jade was a fan of the later, also. Training together was fun. Their synchronicity freaked out some of the regular cadets that would hover around the doors, watching the monkeys practice.

A dialogue opened itself on a screen to the right and Jade took it. "Pilots Harley and Strider reporting. Go IITF."

"Pilot, is the kaiju sufficiently neutralized that two of you may return? Our sensors indicate decreased movement."

He felt her eyes shift to him and he shrugged. There was not much left to do here, not with Pounce on-scene as well as the other suits. The damaged one needed a tow back to base in any event. Dave answered. "Scene is clear. Pounce is finishing and securing site. Any special instructions per naturae?"

The com line was quiet for a moment, presumably while the troll talking received instructions. It was almost always trolls that they talked to, humans rarely were allowed in the command-center, and never as key personnel. Also, there was a rumbling undertone of violence to the Alternian com-staff that was really endearing and could indicate no others.

Jade grinned at him, the bottom of her helmet hiding her jaw and making her giant, goofy teeth look even more adorable as they floated devoid of context behind the glass of her faceplate. "Of course they'll want us to haul the body back. You've gotta have something to feed all of the lusii that live with us. Betcha lunch they want us to."

Dave was not a betting man. He had shitty, shitty luck. "I'm not even gonna rise to that bait, sorry to say. We both know for a fact that scrumptious sea-monster morsels are fucking delicacies for lusii and seadwellers combined and such an egregious waste of a buffet of fine fresh meat could not and will not be tolerated. You know that's culling-grounds, right?"

There was a list longer than he was tall about what constituted culling grounds and Jade knew it full well. Base chose that moment to come back.

"As per usual, please find anything that is not irradiated or otherwise unpalatable and load it onto the transport barge. You and half of the escort are to return to base presently. Received?"

Jade snorted at him and touched the screen. "Continuum received and confirms. Out."

Neither of them was foolish enough to attempt taking off any of the stifling and thick gear before exiting the jaeger. Jade still had a badass scar going up behind her elbow almost to her shoulder blade where she got flung across the cockpit and into a support structure and it sliced her skin open. His scar was not nearly as awesome even though it was got in the same incident and with the same level of stupidity. He had taken his helmet off when the transport barge under them hit a reef. The jaeger pitched forward before readjusting itself to balance. Jade flew across the cockpit, his head flew forward and he knocked himself unconscious against a console. That scar was mostly hidden under his hair, but the teasing that he got from the engineering techs would live on and on in infamy.

After that incident both of them remained mostly in their restraints and totally suited until they were home and safe at base.

"So, you wanna talk to me about shimmery air thing? You were making some pretty sweet eye contact with it."

Jade leaned back in the movement structure, eyes half-hooded in thought. "Have you noticed any kind of a pattern to where we are seeing it? And if you haven't, do you know if we logged the visual data for it? I just. Dunno. I have a feeling that it's relevant somehow?"

"You have a feeling that most interesting things are relevant somehow, which is Jade code for 'I want to touch it with science until it succumbs to my will." It was cute watching his copilot visible catch herself from wiggling her fingers in a menacing fashion.

"It is possible that might be the code. But access to that information is classified. I am afraid that I am not authorized to confirm or deny your findings, Mr. Strider." Giggling at him, she let her arms hang loose. "Have they disconnected the handshake yet or are we still live?"

Dave thought about it. "I feel like we're live. They've been leaving us connected when we're in open-water. And I still feel a pretty active bleedover. It's not like the lingering effects. Here, I'll ping."

Pings between them consisted of a memory of an event seen from two very different perspectives. He thought of walking into the room the day that John Egbert had been picked to tandem-pilot with a troll, one Vriska Serket. The look on his face had been goofy as fuck, proud and excited, like one of the little kids when they passed their first round of combat testing. The other side of that puzzle came back to him instantaneously. Jade had been sitting at John's side when the announcement was made in the mess. Most of the trolls around had looked scandalized, eyes opening wide and flashing yellow sclera. The sight reminded Jade of a field of yellow flowers she had seen in a learning feed. Apparently they grew somewhere on Terra in waving masses. The eyes looked like that, round and swaying slightly as the soldiers turned to clademates and cohort and began talking fiercely. Dave had the next part of the scene. It had been strange to him the way that Vriska's hand shot down to catch John's, her claws digging in; but not hard enough to break his comparatively fragile skin. The glitter of triumph illuminated her good eye – the other one was gone. Dave did not have the story on that and did not care to learn it, the troll was a bitch.

Ping.

Still live. Dropping his head back to the support structure he breathed slowly out through his nose.

"There'd better still be some fucking juice left in the mess. The good juice. Not the grubjuice. That shit gives me heartburn real bad and sometimes there's legs in it."

"Don't think too hard about the grubjuice. In fact, it probably would be best if you never drank the grubjuice ever again."

"Probably. But protein is protein."

"Ew."

Getting Continuum into the docking bay was a giant, furious pain in the ass. It involved a lot of shuffling and inching along smooth flooring, yelling technicians, signaling technicians, a few helpful bay lusii and a long stretch of time. There was a balance that needed to be struck between scoring the flooring and dragging the jaeger's feet, or moving too fast and accidentally killing the staff. Thus far he and Harley had a kill-count of zero floor and transport staff, and they intended to keep it that way.

Glancing around, most of the force was deployed. The topography of the bay was different, gaping holes in the support structures where the other suits normally were stationed. Something big must have been happening while he and Jade were out that base did not feel like enlightening them about. This was nothing new. Advisory lights flashed around them accompanied by an announcement of incoming suits. They dutifully stepped to the side and into their receiving scaffolding. The next suit inside was another mark 15. A quick glance at the detailing told them it was David and Bro in Ebbinflow, back from the clusterfuck of a site they were previously deployed to. The other jaeger gave them a casual wave, and Jade flashed their top-lights back at them. Both of them were fond of the other set of pilots.

David and Bro had been in active-duty for a little under five sweeps longer than they had been. The handshake shut down and Dave abruptly returned to his own head. To his side, Jade had a similar expression of irritated disorientation. Without checking himself he slid a hand out of the pilot-skeleton and caught Jade's, squeezing tight. The answering squeeze was immediate.

"So that was like, a fine use of six hours of our time, two of which I was sweating bullets. You wanna grab a shower and grab some bunk time before we have to go again?"

Jade took her hand back, pushing and tugging at the various straps holding her in place. "I think you know the answer to that."

He did indeed know the answer to that.

Ebbin's pilots caught the down-lift with them, staying to one side of the lift and giving them room. All four of them were exhausted. Even so, he and David caught each other's eyes.

"How'd it go?"

"'Bout as well as you would expect. We were the second wave backup for the Nitrams. Did you get the news on that one yet?"

"Nuh-uh."

"The suit's out of commission and we are now in possession of only a singular Nitram."

Dave felt his chest tighten a little. None of them were given to public expressions of extreme emotion. It simply was not a safe thing to do. Having a snotty nose and blurry eyes could slow one down if a troll felt inclined to fight. This was a thing that happened with regularity. "Which Nitram?"

"It was Rufioh."

They continued their descent, floors lighting up and then dimming as they passed. They reminded Dave a little bit of 'fireflies'. They were a type of insect that Jade studied when she initially had been preparing to be a biological science assistant.

Jade asked the question he did not have the heart to voice. "How's Tavros?"

Bro shrugged, elbowing David who was staring off to one side, hands jammed firmly in his pockets. The taller of the pair would not answer, so Bro did, an air of tired frustration coloring his tone. "Intensive care bay. We'll see tomorrow if he lives or is deemed too much trouble to be worth saving."

There was really nothing else to be said to that. Culling was a multifaceted and very complicated subject. It was his hope that the benefit of Tavros' psychic gifts would outweigh the additional effort it took to keep him alive. The troll and he sometimes played card games. While he would not say that they were close, he would describe him as a 'friend' in the human sense. Not clade, certainly; but instead someone he felt fond of.

The lift came to the bottom floor and opened to reveal Loom's pilots, suited up and ready to go. Meenah jerked her head up in a greeting, flashing a row of horror-sharp teeth at him. " 'sup Striders and Jade?"

Bro leaned over him, delivering a hi-five with a satisfactory 'clap' before heading out of the lift ahead of David. The taller pilot eased off of the wall of the lift, fucking up Dave's hair and ambling after his copilot, boots clacking softly as he progressed across the busy floor and in the general direction of the bunks.

Meenah turned her head after them, flaring her fins partially under her helmet, a little constellation of bioluminescence glittering in the shaded parts of her face. "The dude gives the most powerful hi-fives. Love it. How was your run?"

Dave leaned against the lift door, feeling it pulse back and forth as it attempted to close itself and met resistance. "Boring. Set of two. They're starting to come in weird configurations, so I suppose that I could say to you to be careful? But I know that's sort of out of the question with an intense lady like yourself."

She punched him playfully in the shoulder, smirking. "You know it. Might tell Serket though. She might listen 'less she's in a mood and then she will be even more reckless than I am. Isn't that right starfish?" Rubbing his arm a little, Dave tilted his head over at Aranea. A love-tap like that would only leave a bruise that stayed a week or so. When highbloods were not playing, a hit like that would have damaged his shoulder permanently.

Aranea shrugged, all grace and weird stillness. She and Vriska shared that trait and he did not care for it in either of them. It was the sort of quiet that came with tactical planning. Rose was similar and had similar pauses. Those pauses always meant trouble. Jade knew how he felt by virtue of having been in his head for an extended period of time, more than actually sharing his sentiment.

"You girls have a badass time. The two of us are gonna catch a little rack time and maybe food. And a shower. Definitely a shower."

Meenah hi-fived her as well, stepping into the lift after Aranea, hitting the up button. "Sea you later!"

The diabolical look of glee on her face guaranteed that whatever it was that required extra suits was going to have a bad time. Dave sighed, rocking back on his heels and looking at Jade. Maybe post-shower they could get down into the med wings and check on Tavros, assuming that no other work that appeared between then and now. "Welp."

"Yup." Tugging her hair free of the tight collar of her under-suit, she grinned at them and escorted him down the hall.

[Dirk]

After the dressing-down that Head Engineer Zahhak gave him, Dirk was not in much of a mood for the hangar. The rest of the shift he spent helping the floor crews move shit around and then later tucked away into his storage-closet of a workspace. He worked very hard for the little bit of respect that his fellow technicians afforded him. It was respect born from the strength and speed of his fists connecting with unfairly armored cheeks and the superiority of his programming, building, and mechanical skills. Whenever Equius yelled at him that respect eroded away like sand struck by a wave and he had to begin the arduous process of building it up again. Rubbing at the small point between his eyebrows he almost missed the distress beacon that flared to life on his console. Kicking his feet off of the desk he straightened himself out fast, using his glasses to pull up relevant information faster and assist him in combing through vital statistics.

The suit was Lucky Strike. John and Vriska's jaeger and one of the prototype mark 10 suits. Critical system failures were lighting up like a field of red flowers over his schematic. His glasses did not feel that this was an outcome with any sort of positive prognosis.

H.A.L: they aren't going to make it.

tT: they will make it.

H.A.L: how do you figure?

H.A.L: probability does not lie, Dirk.

H.A.L: numbers are clean. we do not lie, even if we wish we could.

tT: this has nothing to do with numbers and everything to do with luck.

tT: much as i have nothing positive to say about her, Serket has all of the luck.

tT: when she is with John, then he by extension also has at least some of the luck.

H.A.L: you really think she would share with him?

tT: you know what i think.

H.A.L: i do. i thought i might ask though.

H.A.L: they make lovely moirails

H.A.L: if a bit unconventional.

H.A.L: all that said, they aren't going to make it.

H.A.L: Serket's side of the suit is damaged irreparably.

H.A.L: her vital stats are dropping and the techs are having a fucking time trying to get her disconnected and isolated from the drift.

H.A.L: Egbert's locked up. think the shock got him – exposure of jaeger-pain, memory of her losing her arm and the actual pain from the software trying to correct for desynchronization.

H.A.L: and of course there is the small problem of there being no exit equipment in that series.

tT: ugh, shut up. instead of talking why aren't you fixing?

H.A.L: you wound me, and know full well that i am doing just that as we speak.

H.A.L: perhaps you are the one that should not be talking?

H.A.L: you are not as efficient at multitasking as i am. language takes up vital processing power that your mind might otherwise direct toward the saving of your friend.

tT: i will turn you off.

H.A.L: rude.

Dirk danced his fingers over the interfaces in a frantic cadence, trying to figure out whether or not there was any chance of a dual-pilot survival.

Not really. Infuriating as they were, the glasses were absolutely correct.

If Vriska kept John with her, they would both die. Their breathable air was decreasing at an exponential rate and the suit currently was submerged and nothing else about the situation changed. If one of them was left to make the remnants of the jaeger move by themselves, they would risk brain damage. A tab-over to pilot statistics showed that John's survival equipment was still functioning. It would let him breathe submerged for an hour, assuming that nothing broke the seals. Vriska did not have the same luxury. Her suit was torn along one side, presumably during the event that breached the cockpit. Water would be getting in when it reached her, assuming that she did not bleed out first. Her heart was jack-hammering, pulse erratic and stress hormones elevated into critical levels. No one had a clear visual on what was going on in the suit, the interior cameras had shorted.

The riot of activity continued, suit systems reporting critical faults, damage or inability to reboot. Dirk's jaw was set into a tight and painful line. Trying to find some other way to check on the cockpit was proving futile. One bank of cameras was completely missing, according to his systems. Either they were destroyed or they had come off with the rest of the wall that had been breached. The glasses were silent, a little strobing light in one of their corners indicating that they were processing.

The procession of red continued despite his best efforts, as well as those of the primary team. The inside of his cheek tasted salty and gross from biting it in concentration. John's signal started moving and he slammed a hand down on the monitor, zooming in on coordinates and other things that his beacon was transmitting. Free-floating in the ocean was not any safer than being submerged in the jaeger. Apparently Serket decided not to haul him down into the abyss with her; but there were other concerns to be attended. The creatures of the ocean would return to the area once the waters settled. When they did they would likely be interested in the floating thing on the surface and offering minimal resistance. There was a possibility that some of them would be interested enough to gnaw through his protective gear. When the Alternians colonized, many of their sea-dwelling lusii took to the waters and the ones that adapted were near the top of the food chain. In size alone they were a threat, with mouths big enough to swallow the pilot whole. There was also the concern of the undead. They did not need to breathe anymore, and the ones that had finished the decomposition process enough so they did not float were able to trundle at a sedate pace across large bodies of water, moving over the sea-floor like the most horrible crustaceans imaginable, small fish and other things traveling with them, barnacles and anemones burrowing into exposed planes of bone, or other holes. Oceanic undead were always the most unpleasant, in his opinion. Most of the naturae and Terra's creatures left the well enough alone. So, undeterred they ate anyone stupid enough to fall out of a boat and whatever they could hold onto with limited motor-skills and compromised dexterity. John unfortunately had been stupid enough to fall out of his proverbial boat.

It was highly imperative that they get him back. Triangulating his position to the closest possible degree Dirk proceeded to sit on his hands and stare at the screen. He was not allowed off-base nor anywhere near the operations hub where rescue efforts were being put together. The cascade of action was clear: team was getting together with diving equipment and emergency medical supplies. They would be taking off in under five minutes. After that there would be an areal lift once they had eyes on their pilot and he would be brought back to base for any care needed, and debriefing. Assuming that they could find him at all. He was valuable enough to seek – he successfully drifted with a troll partner and some of his data was tied directly into the interface systems of his contact suit and did not auto-transmit. If nothing else he was highly valuable for later jaeger tech and development.

Lucky Strike slipped off of the continental shelf it had been resting on and began sinking. The lights on his dashboard began to slowly resolve themselves, indicating signal loss.

Normalcy returned, after a fashion.

H.A.L: told you they wouldn't make it.

tT: …

tT: i deeply regret ever having brought you into existence.

H.A.L: are you grumpy about being wrong

H.A.L: or because someone that you know just died?