2017-06-10: Shipping Out
- Log: Shipping Out
- Cast: Cardia Ortell, Loren Voss
- Where: Bledavik - Shakhan Square
- Date: June 10th, 2017
- Summary: Prior to his deployment into the field again, Loren and Cardia cross paths. Sass happens.
<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.
'I hope she didn't drag me out here for a festival.'
It was one of the first things Cardia thought after receiving her orders to return from the deserts of Aveh to come back to civilization-- to come to Bledavik-- and accept a new assignment. Unfortunately, the Adlehyde festival devolved into flames, terror, screaming, and some bad decisions that seemed tactically sound at the time. Like riding a flying Metal Demon in an arc through the air and coming down in an incredibly spectacular crash.
Fresh from her time in the infirmary-- and the subsequent repair of the extensive damage to her body-- Cardia walks the streets of Bledavik for what feels like the first time in the daylight. Though the guardian of Lieutenant Commander Hawwa, even she gets a bit of downtime.
It's still easy to pick her out of a crowd if you know what you're looking for: Silvery-gray hair, pale skin even after spending months in the desert. Her clothes are simple and lightweight, with a loose longsleeve linen tunic and baggy pants. Her boots are simple and rugged, and a harness is worn on her shoulders with a rather plain and unassuming gunpowder ARM holstered under her shoulder. A lightweight scarf twines around her neck to hide the scars and the easier-to-identify mechanical parts in her throat.
She doesn't look like she's gone totally native, but she often finds it's better to blend in than stick out like a sore thumb. Still, it's pretty hard to hide the metallic plating on her cheekbones.
Wandering through the people preparing for the upcoming festival, she's actually on her way back up toward the Noble Quarter, toward the Gebler operational headquarters, with a large bundle wrapped in cheap brown paper slung over her shoulder. Is she calling it a day, or just dropping things off? It's hard to say...
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Things, as usual, haven't gone right.
Technically speaking, Loren was supposed to return to the Adlehyde region days ago to assist in follow-up intelligence, since most of the wounded were either reasonably stable or discharged. That was before one of the lower-ranking soldiers in recovery had somehow managed to take what should have been a recoverable wound and go and develop sepsis.
Even better, they'd done it /after/ most of the support personnel had been dispatched to a separate site.
Deployment had been delayed after that.
Scrolling through the display on the comm device, the blond officer leans against the wall, just outside the pathway towards their operational HQ. Blue eyes skim the text on the screen. Unless someone develops pneumonia or falls down the stairs in the next 12 hours, his departure should be secure. ...Not that he's anticipating the work that lies ahead, but at least he won't be here.
Emperor, it's too damn hot.
As if sensing someone approaching, Loren quickly slips the device away and straightens, away from the wall. Recognition settles into his gaze. "...Oh, it's you. That's right, you had a release order." He glances her over, critically, then briefly closes his eyes. "...Try not to get damaged next time. All the paperwork is a hassle." He says it so flatly it's hard to tell if it's a joke or not.
"Are you shipping out as well, or will they be keeping you back here?"
<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.
Cardia notices Loren early-- or at least, she recognizes that he's in her field of vision before it actually clicks in her mind. Were this the battlefield, the story might be a little different, but the nature of her augmentations and the information constantly being fed into her eyes-- into her HUD-- leads to her having learned how to ignore some of it pretty well.
Loren's voice rings out-- flat, and perhaps a little bit of snark hidden inside it. Cardia's gaze lifts, focusing more acutely before unnaturally blue eyes focus on him. Coming to a stop, she swallows hard and draws in a breath to speak. A release order? "Lieutenant Commander Hawwa authorized it," she says-- her voice carrying the same inhumanly low rumble as it did in the Adlehyde combat zone; the metallic reverb that she had while wearing the helmet.
/Definitely/ not a modulation effect in the headgear.
Thinking about her response for a moment, there's a curt, no-words-wasted mannerism to her speech and the cadence of it. "Here, not sure how long. I'm assigned as Adjutant Hawwa's personal guard."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Some medical staff have a reputation for care. They do their utmost to ensure that their patients receive the utmost attention and support while receiving their services, and are keenly attuned to emotional and psychological wellbeing. None of this describes Loren's bedside manner whatsoever.
Slowly, he exhales a breath. Figures. Not that he has jurisdiction -- or particularly wants it -- over the remaining people in hospital. And her situation is a bit unusual anyway. As her voice, when she speaks, confirms.
Loren visibly pauses. Ever so slightly, he lifts a blond eyebrow. There's... definitely a reverb.
He knows she has some cybernetic implants -- limbs, cardiopulmonary -- but it isn't as if he's read her entire file. What's available to medical, anyway. At length, he says: "Well, you're walking on your own, so as far as I'm concerned..." He trails off, and shrugs. 'Good enough' in other words.
He eyes her again. ...Just how heavily /has/ she been modified?
So she might just be staying here. He nods. Better her than him, honestly. "I'm due to ship out to the Adlehyde region in roughly 12 hours -- intelligence assignment from Captain Yugh." He pauses, momentarily. "There's also been a report about a recently discovered ruin that I'm considering conducting a site analysis on. Nothing in-depth, however." As he'd mentioned to the Captain, they want to avoid stretching themselves thin.
He's silent for a moment or five, shifting from one foot to the other as time worries itself out. At considerable distance -- and as he feels the sudden hand of social obligation settle upon his shoulder -- he opts to ask her: "...So, what did you think? About those 'Metal Demons'."
<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.
Cardia's a complex case-- something that is both something she enjoys and regrets. While the flesh parts are easy to fix up with a bit of Ether, the mechanical parts require more and more of a mechanic's touch-- or a medic that is versed well enough in the art of cybernetics. Fortunately, Myyah knows a lot... about a lot.
Cardia's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Took a night of work. The rest, Ether."
He knows about the limbs, about the cardio... With a physician's eye, he undoubtedly would be able to see the lingering hints of scarring at the corners of her eyes and on her eyelids. There's still enough of 'her' left that she bleeds, that she has bones, that flesh and blood are still susceptable to injury. The scarf does a fairly good job of hiding most of the panels and piping that replace the flesh of her neck from the casual glance, but in close study it explains the voice.
"Anything interesting?" There's a faint, wry smirk forming on her face. "Hope you don't get bored on a survey."
And, in that unusually long silence, she's asked The Question. Myyah asked her about them, too. Lips parting, she searches for the right words before closing her mouth in a flat line. Swallowing to keep her throat clear, her brows knit and the cyborg's demeanor takes on a slightly darker tone. "One I fought was tough. Shot it in the face," Cardia says, making a quick gesture toward her head. "Shrugged it off."
"They're ... not invincible. Flier I took down proves it. Actually hurt myself on that landing," she admits, frowning a little hard. Swallowing again, she makes a quick gesture-- signing out a classic Solarian military cant for 'recon.' "I'd like to learn more."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
There are things that even a bit of Ether has difficulty with, short of an amplifier, and even then it isn't more than a hotfix. Which isn't that great, when complex mechanical systems are involved. At some point, you have to call in the cybernetics specialist. Loren's focus is combat trauma, so his familiarity with the art of cybernetics is sparse and basic -- insufficient for anything beyond the most basic repairs.
Someone as well-rounded as the Lieutenant Commander would naturally be more versed.
"Hmm." The eyes, too? At this distance -- and without a faceplate in the way -- he thinks he sees some scarring on her face. Faint. Maybe it ties in with the metal plating on her face -- he'd taken it for reinforcement. Already, it's apparent that she's probably the most heavily enhanced person he's met. And that's before he notices a bit of paneling around her throat, just peeking out from behind her scarf. He wrinkles his brow slightly. It explains the voice, even if he's not sure /what/ was done.
The way she speaks is awfully clipped, though.
"...Who knows?" He closes his eyes and sighs. "Allegedly, it's a ruin that might be from the Zeboim-era that was recently unearthed." The word 'might' he emphasises with a skyward glance, almost but not quite rolling his eyes. "...Of course, that's what they say about every ruin." His disdain is palpable.
But all he really needs to do is take a look at the area while he's en route to his actual target, and see if anything looks promising. It's convenience, not interest.
He folds his arms over his chest, waiting for her as she appears to visibly struggle with her reply. "...Yes. I saw. They don't bleed like normal creatures, either. 'Metal Demon' might be an apt name." Fingers tap, briefly, against his upper arm as Loren thinks over what he'd seen and heard. "I wonder if that was their full strength, or..." If they're holding back. Something nags at him.
"...Some of them seem tougher than the others," he observes, tilting his head slightly to the left. In lieu of a comment on her landing, he just gives her a long, level look. His gaze drops soon after, lingering on her fingers as she gestures. Recon. "...We don't want to give ourselves away to them, particularly with those cultists involving themselves in things." Still, he does pause before adding, "We do need more information on our enemies, however."
<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.
If Loren chooses to dig, her file is ... sizeable. Every test, every experiment, every bloody and messy cut and scrape and attachment.
"Last Zeboim-era ruin I heard about," Cardia says, her voice's reverb becoming slightly more intense for a brief moment, "turned out to be junk. Broken parts. Not even a century old." Her head shakes. "Be ready for disappointment."
Hand slipping down to her side, a canteen is plucked off her belt, giving the cap a firm twist to take it off. "Hard to say," she starts with a slight croak, making another hand-signal-- the tactical cant for 'armored infantry.' "Very tough. Interior seemed liquid? Not like blood. All ... metal." Cardia's eyes narrow.
"Like ... a shell? Liquid inside."
Taking a drink from the canteen in the awkward silence, she speaks-- and her voice evens back out a bit. "Hoping to do more with recon on them. We'll see-- Lieutenant Commander Hawwa has priority right now. We'll see how it goes."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
It's sure to be an eye-opener if he does. Of course he's aware of the extent to which some people receive enhancements and replacements, but Cardia's are... particularly involved. As is the testing. But some people just make their contributions to their society in different ways.
Junk and broken parts. Pushing his glasses up his nose a fraction, he closes his eyes. Seems about right. "Trust me, I'm expecting it," Loren replies flatly, and looking very much as if he'd like to sigh to underscore his absolute lack of faith in this site survey. "Still, it's better than risking it being the real thing." Especially if surface-dwellers were already poking around in the depths, as they do. "At least it won't take long to determine the age and viability." He shouldn't even need to go far inside.
There it is, again, the suggestion that she's definitely having trouble speaking.
'Armored infantry'. He nods. "Seems accurate. I wonder if the research team retrieved any samples? It might be interesting to know more about their composition. ...I wonder if they even are sentient, or if they're just good at acting like it." Robotics, AI, none of that's in his sphere of familiarity. Still, it's possible to have something that moves and talks, but isn't really 'there' or sentient.
"Liquid metal, huh... I wonder if they'd melt."
He unfolds his arms at last, planting a hand on his hip as he regards her as she takes a drink.
She sounds more normal again. Something with the implant? Or lingering damage from the attack? "Let me know if you do recon and find anything. They've retreated for now but we can't discount them, even if we can't follow them." He'd said as much to the Captain. Loren sighs, glancing away to look at the rest of this section of Bledavik. "...The whole area's probably destabilized now. What a pain..."
<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.
"Tough to say. To be honest, didn't think they were real." The Metal Demons, that is-- but what she learned in her classes at Jugend have quickly proven to be... more than she expected. It's strange to have the advice that she had given to Elly just after arriving come back on her in such a way-- to throw out expectations, because the field will always surprise you, throw you into things you weren't trained for or planning on having happen to you. "Hope I don't run into it again. Not soon, anyway."
Another sip of water, followed by a slow, muted grin, gesturing with the canteen. "Must admit, riding the flyer... was fun."
But would they melt? Jaw setting to one side, the Solarian cyborg looks rather thoughtful for a moment. "Would be interesting to see. Boiling point, how they burn. /If/ they burn. Need a better tactical advantage against them."
"Will-do. Command will want all the details, anyway." Would they have to carry out a seek and destroy mission, if that were the case? But he's right-- things are different now, and it all started with Adlehyde. Cardia fidgets with the cloth of the lightweight scarf, turning to follow his gaze to the square-- to what's coming soon for Bledavik. "Still having festivals, though. Parties in the face of disaster. ... Thought I'd seen everything."
Blue eyes list downward, then her gaze turns back to Loren. "... you're probably right, though. Stretched thin enough as it is, too."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Loren hesitates for a moment. "...Neither did I," he admits, himself. "Who would have believed that /those/ stories would have turned out to be true..." He shakes his head. At least there had been some time -- enough to digest what was going on as they geared up for their own emergency plans in the wake of the initial assault. Though perhaps that only made things worse when he reconsidered it -- bad enough that a bunch of ancient monsters put up a fight like that when they were going in ready. If they had been the ones off-guard...
The eternally pessimistic medic does not enjoy thinking about a surprise attack.
But for now, he'll stow such thoughts and settle instead for giving Cardia a very, very skeptical look. He raises one eyebrow.
"If they're made of metal... though, it could be too high to be practical as a tactic. If that's the case, we'll have to resort to brute force." He gestures outwards with his left hand as he speaks. "/Some/ advantage would be good." Lifting a hand, he fidgets with his glasses a moment. "We need more data, though."
It's hard to say /what/ would be needed next. "Once they've made their decisions..." But that's part of what the LtC. and the Captain will be doing while he's out gathering intelligence: deciding their next official step for the region. Sidelong, he glances at Cardia as she remarks on the festival. "That's how these... people are, it seems." Someone else might have frowned in disdain. He settles for a hard-eyed look down the streets, to the celebrations in the distance. "It's no wonder they can't reach our level."
He turns back to face her. "...We'll see what our orders are in the coming days. They seem to be having talks." His gaze, briefly, lingers on the bundle over her shoulder, as if noticing it for the first time. "Well, I'll get out of your way, Ortell. I need to begin preparations for departure in any case." Unless she calls out to him or indicates she has anything more to say, he'll move to head off towards where they're barracked without anything more than a passing wave of his hand.
<Pose Tracker> Cardia Ortell has posed.
Cardia takes one more drink from the canteen before capping it off, returning the bottle to her belt with a click of the clip. "'Be ready for anything,' I told van Houten. Should've taken my own advice." Still, the cyborg nods in agreement-- more data is required. But she wants to insist that incinerating things with enough fire or firepower would probably do the trick pretty well. 'Defend against white-hot fire-fury!' would be her battlecry in such a case.
"Yes. The L-T-C and staff are in meetings right now. Is how I got the break." Her head turns again to look over the festival grounds being set up, frowning a little. "They are resilient. ... or careless." A beat, "Inclined to think both."
Cardia's hands slip down to the pockets of the baggy pants, silvery fingers disappearing inside as she gives Loren a brief nod. She starts walking, headed more for the officer's quarters rather than the impromptu barracks in use by Gebler troops. "You know where I am, if you need me."
Where? Likely, not far from Myyah's side.