'Hazredous' Interruptions

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha / RWBY

Interlude - Old Shadows

While small by TSAB standards, the Warding Gesture had been a planetary defense corvette owned and operated by the Saint King Church. The small vessel had spent its prime patrolling space near Administered World Twenty-Three, Ruwella. When the ship's service life came to an end she had been stripped of offensive weapons and delegated to a simple transport role, until finally after thirty-five years of service, had been mothballed and placed in storage at the libration point between Ruwella and its sole moon. That had been fifteen years ago.

She was old, underpowered by current standards, and slow. But, she was also still a corvette, and massed nearly a thousand tons across her fifty meter length. Leti must have blown every favor she had to get this ship, Gil thought.

The crew was, as promised, all old TSAB Navy hands; all retired, and every one of them a volunteer. Twenty in number, all of them remembered the Harlaowns fondly, and had jumped at the chance to bring the Arthra's crew home safe. Half of them had even served their last tour of duty aboard the Hestia herself, and had witnessed that cruiser's last action against the berserk Book of Darkness some eighteen years previously. Leti plays the game as well. For cleaner purposes, at least, but as well as I ever did.

Aria stood behind the captain's chair, the ever-present bastion of restraint at his right shoulder. Lotte paced between the duty stations, exuding barely restrained energy and liveliness.

The navigation console beeped, and the assigned crewman checked the screens. "We're coming up on the Arthra's last known coordinates now. Transferring to normal space in five."

Gil kept the unhappy anticipation from his features, and gripped the arms of the chair. The Warding Gesture didn't transfer to and from dimensional space as smoothly as a modern TSAB ship; yet another reminder that the ship was quite outdated. It had taken them most of a week to reach the coordinates, as her cruising speed was barely more than half that of an L-class cruiser.

The ship shuddered as it broke through the dimensional barrier, appearing in realspace in a flash of expressed photons. Gil forced the queasy feeling in his stomach down, clearing his throat. "Good work, gentlemen. Bring the local map onscreen."

This was their starting point. From here, they'd have to piece together the Arthra's actions.

Gil glanced over his shoulder at Aria. She returned the look, and the faintest grimace tightened her face. 'We're too slow, Master.'

'I know. The Lady Midday is faster than we are. We can only hope we're not too late to make a difference.' Gil scratched at his jaw, irritated by the stubble that had grown in. 'Keep that transmission code I gave you ready to send at a moment's notice.'

'You don't need to tell me twice.'

"Sensors. What do we have?"

"Space debris, sir. Spread out over a pretty wide area."

Gil nodded, expression tight. "Analysis?"

The sensor officer skimmed his fingers over his console, cursing a little. "Give me a moment. Resolution on this bucket isn't the best… okay. Spectroscopic analysis for most of the debris is consistent with Dimensional-grade hull materials, but not TSAB standards. Judging by the spread of the debris field… happened about a month ago, sir."

"Anything else?"

"Ah… yes. Some of it does match hull materials used in TSAB vessels, and… shit. Center screen, sir."

An image came up on the main monitor. Gil rose to his feet. "That's the starboard bow mount of an L-class."

"Scanning. Confirmed, sir. It looks like the remains of the Arthra's starboard primary."

The bridge was silent. Gil cleared his throat. "Then we can confirm that the Arthra was here, and there is not enough debris from her to conclude that she was destroyed."

Aria stepped forward. "Scan for nearby systems that have planets in their habitable zones. If the Arthra was heavily damaged, they'd need to stop and make repairs."

There was an upside to having a crew of old veterans. At least some of the deficiencies in the Warding Gesture's systems were mitigated by the sheer amount of experience they brought to the table. It wasn't long before they had a list of possible coordinates.

Gil took his seat again, taking a deep breath. "Set coordinates and transfer to dimensional space. Let's start with the closest one first."

The Warding Gesture flashed into real-space with the usual shaking of her hull and a wrenching of Gil's gut. He paid it no mind. "Sensors, what do we have?"

The planet was still some million kilometers away, but the Warding Gesture's sensor array was more than enough to get basic information. "Oxygen nitrogen atmospheric mix, temperate, one G gravity at sea level." The sensor officer tapped a few commands, then frowned. "...dimensional scanners are coming up inconclusive. Something's interfering with the readings, but visuals are clear."

The image came on screen, revealing a planet swathed in color; the deep blue of oceans, greens and browns of continental land masses, the white swirls of clouds. The crescent of the planet's visible night side had a few points of light visible against the darkness. "Those look like habitation zones."

"Affirmative, sir. I'm reading four locations on the surface with massive electromagnetic footprints. If I had to guess, they're transmission centers of some form or- ...hold on a moment. I've got something else, the dimensional scanners… nevermind. It's gone."

Gil's blood went cold. "What was it?"

"I thought I saw a ship, sir, but there's nothing-"

Gil almost jumped out of his chair; only the clench of his hands on the armrests kept him seated. "Helm, all stop! Power down the drive core to minimal!" 'Aria, send that signal now!'

The helm officer turned to look at him. "Sir?"

"Do it!"

"Aye, sir! Powering down, all stop!" The constant hums of the Warding Gesture vanished, and the lights dimmed to nothing and were replaced by red emergency panels.

'Signal broadcasted, Master. No response.'

'Send it again! Keep sending it, we're already in the barrel.'

A minute passed in tense silence, only broken by the whirring clicks of the backup environmental systems coming online.

"Sir. Encrypted transmission inbound. It's being bounced from a… a comm buoy, a thousand kilometers to port. It wasn't there a minute ago, sir."

Thank God. Graham let out a breath. "Patch it through to my quarters. Take no action until I return."

"Aye sir, patching through."

Graham moved as quickly as his aging legs would take him, closing and locking the door. He opened the transmission, pulling the encryption code from memory. "Graham here."

"That authentication code is eight years out of date, Graham. The hell are you doing out here?" The voice was electronically masked, but Gil knew it anyways. He'd worked with the man before, after all.

"I'm above board, Captain Grumman. My crew and I have been contracted by Admiral Lowran to find the Arthra. As far as the age of my code… Well, it's hard to get a new one when you've been retired, but I've grasped at thinner straws."

"Only one that I can think of."

"Any straw will do when you're sitting in the firing arc of an Arc-en-Ciel. I dearly hope you have good news, old friend."

"Good and bad. The good news is that you're right on the trail; we've tracked the Arthra's drive signature to this planet, and have detected trace elements in the upper atmosphere to signify a hard landing."

"A hard landing is good news?"

"Better than an uncontrolled crash, wouldn't you agree?"

"Fair point. You've located the crash site?"

"Yes. The impact point is obvious, but there's no sign of the Arthra herself. She's been moved somewhere."

Gil rubbed his face. "Grumman, what exactly is the Lady Midday doing here?"

"Classified. You're not cleared."

"For God's sake, Grumman. We've worked together before, and I've been retired for eight years. If I was going to be stupid enough to spill the beans, I would have a long time ago."

"Insurance, Graham. But you're right. We have worked together, and in this instance I find that my hands are tied." Grumman paused for a moment. "There's an interference field around the planet. As long as you keep your wards up, it shouldn't cause a problem. Also, while we have taken some detailed scans of the field, we are not in a position to transmit them back."

"We can do some scans, but our own scanners are rather dated."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I'll send you the appropriate calibrations for your arrays."

Gil nodded to himself, rubbing his chin. "You know I have to ask, Grumman."

"Then ask."

"The Lady Midday's intentions regarding the Arthra? Her crew?"

"The Ifrit is three weeks out, Graham, and there are a lot of people moving on this, for good or ill. Like I said, I'm just here as insurance."

Preparing for the biggest 'what if.' "I can't argue the necessity. Let's work together again, Grumman. You're running dark, but I'm not. I can move where you can't."