"Whispers of the Tempest"
09 Jul 2023Silvia Sharpe
Continuing the events on the docks involving Kira Goto and her ship construct EDI contacting me about her mental state. The Events brought us to Earth in hopes to help Kira. The last events involving Kira and I can be found here.
Part 1
As the sun starts its descent, I break away from the confines of the city and set my course towards the valley where my brother's ship met its untimely fate. A tumultuous storm lies ahead, persisting with unrelenting fury. Lightning intermittently illuminates the darkened sky, casting an eerie glow. Ranger jolts abruptly as I enter the storm's formidable sphere of influence. As I press deeper into the storm, the memories of the heated argument I had with Kira before my departure weigh heavily on my mind. The gusts of wind battering my ship seem to echo the turbulent emotions that consumed us during our disagreement. The flashes of lightning illuminate the darkness around me, serving as a stark reminder of the unresolved tension between us.
"She is right. I had no right to take my emotions out on her but I thought she would understand just how important it is for me to get him out of there."
I call over to Celeste as I realize just how big of a mistake I had made.
'Celeste. Please stand by for voice recording addressed to Kasumi.'
"Certainly Commander. Recording started."
'Kasumi, I want to apologize for my earlier response. You were right, and I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. The truth is, the thought of losing my brother has consumed me, and it led to my outburst. I'm sorry for any hurtful words I may have said. Despite everything, I still value your assistance, and I would greatly appreciate your help if you're willing to offer it.'
"Recording completed. Message sent."
As Celeste concludes her message, an unsettling disruption takes hold within the ship. The instrument panels flicker and malfunction, scattering fragments of distorted data. An eerie hum permeates the air, raising the hairs on my skin as an electric charge fills the space both inside and outside the vessel. Sensing the impending danger, I swiftly engage the boosters, propelling the ship forward just moments before a bolt of lightning strikes with an explosive force.
The tempest intensifies, unleashing a deluge of heavy rain and hail upon the ship. The onslaught relentlessly pummels the hull, rattling it with each merciless impact. The atmosphere crackles with energy, and the storm's wrath engulfs my surroundings, creating an unsettling tableau that echoes the treacherous journey that lies ahead.
The relentless wind forces me to constantly readjust my course, while the frequent lightning strikes keep me alert. However, as I soar above one of the peaks, the situation takes a turn for the worse. The tempest within the valley shows no signs of slowing, transforming stone cliffs into cascading waterfalls and causing a section of the terrain to crumble away. I venture into the airspace where the Type 9 had crashed, only to be caught off guard by a sudden onslaught of four lightning strikes. Each bolt mercilessly tears into my shields, inflicting substantial damage. The violent jolts toss the ship around, disrupting its trajectory with each impactful strike.
Upon nearing the wreckage of the Type 9, a bone-chilling sight unfolds before me. The hull is brutally cleaved in half, a grim testament to the force of the impact. Streams of coolant continue to gush out from numerous ruptured lines, adding to the scene's sense of urgency. A colossal scar, left by a recent tornado, traverses directly over the crash site, a stark reminder of the destructive forces at play. The surroundings are a disarray of uprooted trees and scattered debris, with large panels torn from the ship strewn haphazardly about.
I carefully land in a clearing a safe distance away from the crash, feeling the Ranger sink slightly and shift in response to the muddy terrain. I retrieve my rifle before making my way back towards the vehicle hangar. The sound of torrential rain grows louder as my scarab descends from the belly of my ship, ready to face the impending storm.
I step into the scarab and activate its systems. The interior lights flicker briefly before stabilizing. The rain pounds on the vehicle's hull as I navigate through the wreckage, cautiously avoiding debris and fallen trees. The scarab's floodlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead.
Approaching the shattered hull of the Type 9, my heart begins pounding with a mix of anticipation and dread. The destruction is extensive, and it's clear that the crash had been violent. I park the scarab near the breach and step out, rifle in hand. The rain drenches me instantly, soaking my clothes and making visibility even more challenging. But I press on, determined to find any sign of my brother.
Leaving the Scarab behind, I approach the shattered hull on foot. Raindrops blur my visor as I climb through the twisted metal and enter the darkened interior. The ship's interior is a mess of broken consoles and flickering emergency lights. The air is thick with the smell of burnt circuits and coolant.
As I make my way deeper into the ship, I come across a section that seems relatively intact. The lights flicker weakly, casting eerie shadows on the walls. I call out my brother's name, hoping for a response, but there is only silence. The realization that he might not have survived hits me hard, and a wave of grief washes over me.
I continue my search, methodically checking each room and compartment. It feels like hours pass as I navigate the labyrinthine corridors, my mind filled with worry and despair. I move deeper into the ship, my heart pounding with each step. The air is thick with tension, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. I activate my helmet's flashlight, illuminating the path ahead. As I turn a corner, I catch a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye.
I quickly raise my rifle, scanning the area. My heart skips a beat when I see a figure huddled against a wall. The walls are scorched, and the air is heavy with the smell of burnt metal. And there, lying on the ground, is my brother Jackson, battered and unconscious but still breathing.
Relief floods through me as I rush to his side, checking his pulse and assessing his injuries. He's badly hurt, but I can see he's alive, and that's all that matters in this moment. I activate my suit's emergency medical system and begin administering first aid, stabilizing his condition as best I can.
"Jackson, hang in there," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the storm's roar. "I'm here now. We'll get through this."
As I continue to tend to my brother, my mind races with questions. What really caused this massive ship to crash? Was it really due to a super lightning strike? Where is the rest of the crew? Why are there no bodies or life pods scattered about?
Once Jackson is stable enough to transport, I carry him back to the scarab and carefully secure him inside. I activate the communication system and send a message to Kira, hoping she'll receive it despite the storm's interference.
"Kira, I've found Jackson. He's alive but injured. Meet me at the crash site as soon as you can."
As a bolt of lightning strikes near the ship my attention is drawn to the unmistakable ruptures in the ship's hull, bearing the distinct marks of projectile impacts. With a sense of urgency, I address Celeste, requesting a ballistics analysis of the hull breaches to ascertain their origin and nature.
"Celeste, please run a comprehensive ballistics analysis on the detected hull breaches."
"Certainly, Commander," Celeste responds promptly, her virtual voice calm and composed. "Based on the analysis, the hull breaches exhibit characteristics consistent with railgun munitions. The breaches appear to run through the entirety of the ship, indicating a systematic targeting and destructive intent."
The revelation of railgun involvement raises concerns, suggesting a deliberate act of aggression rather than mere happenstance. With this new information, the gravity of the situation deepens.