Part I of II: The Great Circle
"A-a-a-aliens!?"
On the bridge of the Shinryu, Captain Harris gawked, looking on in slack-jawed disbelief as the reality of Madin's proclamation began to set in. It was true! All the propaganda, all the late-night television and crank publications - true! There really were extraterrestrials!
She let out a strangled cry, a noise that almost defied the nature of print to define it, only barely describable as "Oaarghyagah!", and slammed the emergency contact cut.
"Hm."
Meanwhile, on the vast multi-tiered deck of the Tantra, Madin found himself staring at a blank screen, simply reading "TRANSMISSSION LOST". There was a pregnant pause... and then he turned expertly on his heel, clapping his hands together, giving those around him the full blast of an optimistic smile as he began striding purposefully back towards the elevator.
"I think that went well!"
The only sound that went up from the assembled Circle dignitaries was the low groan of the Strategist, as palm met face.
"Hey, you. Space man."
On the Tantra's launch deck... Elhirut's somber preparations didn't go unnoticed.
When did she get here?
In the intervening weeks before they had arrived, Decima had been taken under the Meyvens wing. In his presence, she was the perfect child - demure, precious, and so sweet that being in her presence caused one to suspect the imminent, spontaneous formation of cavities. Madin was thrilled to have an audience, and she to have someone who would see to it that her every need was answered, as a "V.I.P.".
But... Whenever the two were separated?
"You're not really gonna fly that twiggy looking thing are you?"
Decima plopped down gently behind Elhirut, a catlike smirk on her features as she addressed the young man, blonde tresses bobbed through the air. She didn't wear a spacesuit - no, rules it seemed, were for little people, and she had quickly crowned herself as Princess of the Tantra, pointing to the Org-Valu as if it were a toy among her collection.
Whenever she were out of earshot of the Meyven... the contrast in behavior was like night and day. She became capricious, cruel, calculating... and surprisingly adept at making her way into high security areas of the vessel. The Strategist had voiced his concern regarding the young girl's movements - but, for all his own patience and carefully reasoned arguments, they had fallen on deaf ears, leaving the two of them to share stories of her true nature in private.
"...It looks... frail. And weak." She said, her features scrunching up in disgust, before turning her gaze back on Elhirut himself. There was a strange, almost... reptilian gleam to those eyes, as if there were not quite... normal, as she continued gently:
"Kind of like... you."
The Tantra's laser batteries flared to life, sending rays of light arcing out into the void as the storm of Lamalice descended upon it. Hails of railgun-fire tore into the front ranks of the monstrosities, mowing them down in droves - but the tide of flesh was unending, and in mere seconds the beasts had fallen upon the frontal wave of Liege Geios, a gnashing, screeching tide of thrashing, grasping claws.
Three of the hulking, silver behemoths were swept away instantly, seized by the creatures and hurled bodily backwards into the teeming mass, their Bioroid pilots not even uttering a sound as they were shorn violently limb from limb. The remaining withdrew in rows, laying down waves of suppressing fire to keep the swarm from growing any closer. Beams of dark energy petered out pitifully against their armor plates, the Lamalice unable to outgun the Circle's finest fighting machines...
For now.
And... There was one other thing, as well.
The uninvited guests lingered, as they often did, at the fringes of the battlefield, their verdant, wing-like shapes cruising slowly along in a loose V formation, five total. The Lamalice posed little threat to them, the automatons barely registering on whatever malefic senses they used to perceive the world around them - and so, the Opus tagged along, recording, analyzing, compounding every scrap of data they could get their hands on. Mechanical lenses clicked in and out, oscillating gently as every possible angle was scrutinized at a level of detail that would have turned even the Tantra's engineers green with envy.
What, exactly, were they searching for?
"A-a-a-aliens!?"
On the bridge of the Shinryu, Captain Harris gawked, looking on in slack-jawed disbelief as the reality of Madin's proclamation began to set in. It was true! All the propaganda, all the late-night television and crank publications - true! There really were extraterrestrials!
She let out a strangled cry, a noise that almost defied the nature of print to define it, only barely describable as "Oaarghyagah!", and slammed the emergency contact cut.
"Hm."
Meanwhile, on the vast multi-tiered deck of the Tantra, Madin found himself staring at a blank screen, simply reading "TRANSMISSSION LOST". There was a pregnant pause... and then he turned expertly on his heel, clapping his hands together, giving those around him the full blast of an optimistic smile as he began striding purposefully back towards the elevator.
"I think that went well!"
The only sound that went up from the assembled Circle dignitaries was the low groan of the Strategist, as palm met face.
"Hey, you. Space man."
On the Tantra's launch deck... Elhirut's somber preparations didn't go unnoticed.
When did she get here?
In the intervening weeks before they had arrived, Decima had been taken under the Meyvens wing. In his presence, she was the perfect child - demure, precious, and so sweet that being in her presence caused one to suspect the imminent, spontaneous formation of cavities. Madin was thrilled to have an audience, and she to have someone who would see to it that her every need was answered, as a "V.I.P.".
But... Whenever the two were separated?
"You're not really gonna fly that twiggy looking thing are you?"
Decima plopped down gently behind Elhirut, a catlike smirk on her features as she addressed the young man, blonde tresses bobbed through the air. She didn't wear a spacesuit - no, rules it seemed, were for little people, and she had quickly crowned herself as Princess of the Tantra, pointing to the Org-Valu as if it were a toy among her collection.
Whenever she were out of earshot of the Meyven... the contrast in behavior was like night and day. She became capricious, cruel, calculating... and surprisingly adept at making her way into high security areas of the vessel. The Strategist had voiced his concern regarding the young girl's movements - but, for all his own patience and carefully reasoned arguments, they had fallen on deaf ears, leaving the two of them to share stories of her true nature in private.
"...It looks... frail. And weak." She said, her features scrunching up in disgust, before turning her gaze back on Elhirut himself. There was a strange, almost... reptilian gleam to those eyes, as if there were not quite... normal, as she continued gently:
"Kind of like... you."
The Tantra's laser batteries flared to life, sending rays of light arcing out into the void as the storm of Lamalice descended upon it. Hails of railgun-fire tore into the front ranks of the monstrosities, mowing them down in droves - but the tide of flesh was unending, and in mere seconds the beasts had fallen upon the frontal wave of Liege Geios, a gnashing, screeching tide of thrashing, grasping claws.
Three of the hulking, silver behemoths were swept away instantly, seized by the creatures and hurled bodily backwards into the teeming mass, their Bioroid pilots not even uttering a sound as they were shorn violently limb from limb. The remaining withdrew in rows, laying down waves of suppressing fire to keep the swarm from growing any closer. Beams of dark energy petered out pitifully against their armor plates, the Lamalice unable to outgun the Circle's finest fighting machines...
For now.
And... There was one other thing, as well.
The uninvited guests lingered, as they often did, at the fringes of the battlefield, their verdant, wing-like shapes cruising slowly along in a loose V formation, five total. The Lamalice posed little threat to them, the automatons barely registering on whatever malefic senses they used to perceive the world around them - and so, the Opus tagged along, recording, analyzing, compounding every scrap of data they could get their hands on. Mechanical lenses clicked in and out, oscillating gently as every possible angle was scrutinized at a level of detail that would have turned even the Tantra's engineers green with envy.
SCANNING...
MULTIPLE SAMPLES OF OF [INSTANCE 418] DETECTED.
NO DEVIATION FROM STANDARD BEHAVIOR PATTERNS.
CONTINUING OBSERVATION...
MULTIPLE SAMPLES OF OF [INSTANCE 418] DETECTED.
NO DEVIATION FROM STANDARD BEHAVIOR PATTERNS.
CONTINUING OBSERVATION...
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