2019-03-04: Unexpected
- Log: Unexpected
- Cast: Kahran Ramses, Loren Voss
- Where: Bledavik - Royal Palace
- Date: March 04, 2019
- Summary: Ramses summons Loren for a talk... and something quite unanticipated.
<Pose Tracker> Kahran Ramses has posed.
For a man who got hit by an attack that cut a capital ship in half, Kahran Ramses looks pretty good. He returned (officially) from the capital about a week ago, looking nothing more than a little overtanned considering how late in winter it is. Rumours have been circulating about the Gebler commander's miraculous recovery, and even more about his possibly even-more-miraculous feat of remaining in command after losing the aforementioned capital ship in battle.
Rumours circle, and feed upon themselves. But Kahran Ramses endures, unmoved.
A few days after he returned from Etrenank, Ramses sent - through his aide de camp - a note requesting Loren's presence at a particular time, on a particular day. 36 hours of potentially pants-shitting terror later, and the moment has arrived; said moment finds Ramses in his office, at his desk, chewing methodically through the paperwork. He is halfway through his in-tray, but three more stack are sitting on Myyah's desk, outside.
He'll be in a good mood, right?
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Since returning from a short stint among the Baskar -- Leah's 'request', to find out how to better utilize the Medium he's in possession of, the same one that had destabilized Siegfried long enough for her to deliver the killing blow -- Loren has returned to a more uneventful life on duty in medical in Bledavik.
Or, perhaps, scratch that -- it had been more uneventful.
There are probably soldiers, somewhere, who would take an audience with the Commander as a great opportunity. Loren, with the jeopardized positioning of his family and the very real knowledge that any misstep will be amplified, is not among them.
Yet, he really doesn't have an option here.
So here he is, now and in this place, watching the Commander -- for the moment -- work his way through some of his paperwork. He has about thirty seconds of awkward silence before venturing, "You wanted to see me, sir?"
<Pose Tracker> Kahran Ramses has posed.
Kahran Ramses blinks as Loren speaks, and looks up, his eyes widening in a brief - but genuine - look of surprise. "Ah," he says, clearing his throat and putting his pen down. "Yes, of course, Lieutenant. Please, have a seat." The commander gestures to one, then busies himself by tugging his uniform into place, trying to suppress a vague sense of irritation. He honestly hadn't heard Loren come in, which is... concerning.
Clicking heels approach, announcing the presence of one Myyah Hawwa, who enters with glasses of what appears to be iced tea, which Loren may recall from his earlier visit. "Thank you," Ramses mutters, moistening his lips with the beverage before placing it off to one side. Now that he's this close, Loren will be able to spot a few signs of the commander's recent infirmity - cheekbones a little too prominent, hair a little too fine - but the big man draws in a breath, and seems to gather himself together.
"I did have a purpose for seeing you, Lieutenant, but before we address my business..." Ramses says, flicking a glance at Myyah - who has, unlike Loren's previous visit, not left the room. "...I would be most interested in your observations of how matters have stood while I've been away. This is a trying time for everyone, I know," he asides. "But a great deal of burden has fallen onto young officers such as yourself. If there's anything you'd like to say - or any questions I can answer for you - I'd be happy to do so."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Ramses isn't the only one in the room to react so. The thought flashes past briefly, but pass it does -- Loren had somehow managed to take the commander by surprise.
It's not a thought enjoys considering for very long. He moves to take a seat a delayed moment late, the familiarity of awkwardness displacing the uncomfortable sense that something was not quite...
The full extent of the commander's injuries aren't on the record -- at least, not at the level Loren is allows access to -- but he does know enough. In any case, the remaining traces of the wounds can still be seen, though they're faint now. Even advanced medicine can only do so much, and frankly, most men in the commander's place would have instead died -- if not immediately, then months later. The only person he knows who survived something similar, after all, hosts a full suite of artificial limbs...
The commander meanwhile just looks pretty good for a man who almost died. A thought that -- as is the fact that he's staring -- is brought unfortunately into focus as Myyah approaches. He takes the glass once it's offered with a murmur of thanks, mostly just grateful for the interruption before he gets to find out if he lives or dies today.
This time, though, she has not left. With care, he sets down his glass without so much taking a drink from it, considering what it is he's just been asked.
So, how have things been?
"Aside from the incident with Parringer and Keil, and the incident at the apparent Zeboim-era facility to the south," the one where Id showed up and nearly nuked Leah, "it's been fairly quiet lately. I suppose with the Metal Demons broken, there's no source of an outside threat remaining, or anything for wayward elements to 'investigate'." The derision there is heavy; Leah's attempts otherwise have not had great success at prising free Loren's contempt.
...But does he have any questions?
He doesn't think Leah has mentioned the part about the Medium to the commander, and ultimate superior or not, he's... reluctant to volunteer that information freely, if only because he's likely to get it for keeping it a secret so long. So that's one avenue blocked off. He also, he thinks, with sudden burning clarity, doesn't want any definite answers on Lan.
And he can't just ask if any future operations are planned.
So at a loss, he shakes his head. "None, sir. ...Beyond whether the actions of certain individuals is worth further investigation, I suppose."
Meaning Parringer and Keil, of course.
<Pose Tracker> Kahran Ramses has posed.
Ramses smiles faintly as Loren lets his scorn show; his expression is amused more than anything else. "As you continue to gain experience, Lieutenant," he says mildly, "I think you will find matters are rarely so settled for long. In the absence of a shared enemy, these -Lambs- who think themselves wolfhounds will sniff out a new target... or fall upon each other." He shrugs. "It is their nature. But please, continue."
The big man holds his tongue, and waits for Loren to work through his thoughts. Jugend's instructors may preach about the merits of seizing the initiative by taking decisive action, but Ramses has learned the value of both strategic and tactical patience; he waits calmly for the younger officer to work it through, and say what he will. You learn more, that way, about what someone is thinking... or, at least, is willing to admit they are thinking.
"I would venture that it is," Ramses answers Loren's supposition. "Of the two, ah..." He pauses for a moment, shifting papers on his desk, searching for a name. "...Parringer seems the greater threat. But all she has is power - considerable power, yes," he concedes. "But to defeat strength, all you truly need is greater strength... or a more convenient target for her aggression. Parringer may be a danger for what she is... but Keil's daughter is a danger for what she knows."
Ramses takes a sip from his glass before continuing. "Think of it - a wild Ether user, daughter of one of our own, with full knowledge of what Solaris is, what we seek, and how we seek to obtain it." The big man pauses, considering. "I've spoken with the woman. Tested her. She will ever be our enemy, I suspect, and should be dealt with. Immediately." He pauses, glancing briefly at Myyah, then returns his gaze to Loren. "Out of curiosity... how would you seek to neutralize Keil's daughter, were you given the task?"
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
As you continue to gain...
Just a touch, the young man wilts. Idiot, he thinks, the invective directed at himself alone. You sound like a fresh graduate, talking like that...
"...I understand, sir," he says after a moment's pause.
But it is true. About all surface-dwellers. Their history had shone that well enough -- they fight amongst themselves and inevitably, all they have built crumbles to ashes.
At first he can think of nothing to ask after.
And then, something, almost 'by the way', comes to mind. The two largest threats he's encountered in since he returned to duties on the surface -- and indeed he had fought the both of them (or the threats of their own making) the very same day.
"Her power has grown considerably. Whatever it is, it isn't Ether, or Symbology, for that matter." Not, he thinks, Malevolence or the arts of Lunar, either, and she doesn't seem like a Crest Sorceror. "If she continues to attempt to destroy enough cities, however..." He shrugs. It was likely the sort of problem that would resolve itself, as long as she didn't destroy anything of vital importance to Solaris or bring unwanted attention from Shevat.
Drifters would likely eventually put Parringer down if she overstepped -- it's just a precarious situation concerning whatever else she'd tread on in the process.
Keil, though.
"I am aware," he murmurs, his expression grown dark, recalling that moment in the dark and what had followed after: the pain, the shock, the humiliation. "She possesses manifestations of Ether I'd never seen -- or heard -- of before." Things like her profound control over darkness, discharges of annihilating energy... and the reduction of material objects to oblivion.
And a hearty grudge against Solaris to go along with it.
"And she's not even in the database, I heard -- they had no number assigned to her."
Which is the point when the commander asks how he would handle her, if given the opportunity.
His first thought is, 'with extreme prejudice' but that's not exactly an answer. He instead lingers there in silence for the moment, brow furrowed as he considers the best functional way to handle her. Then he remembers something. His eyes widen slightly.
"When she had been in our care... she grew weaker when her ability to use Ether was severed from her, despite our attempts to investigate and treat her deterioration. Even if it was merely coincidental, if it were possible to dampen or seal her abilities, that's where I would begin. It's her greatest asset and the factor that possesses the highest risk," he says.
It's a tall order, given the difficulty of attaching a dampening unit to her again in the first place, but...
As much as it galls him -- as much as he wants to scream and shout at it's very presence in his mind -- the fact he can't ignore is that while he might be First Class, he can't win against her in a fair fight. Not as he is.
<Pose Tracker> Kahran Ramses has posed.
Ramses doesn't follow up on Loren's remarks on Neriah at all - not that he disagrees with Loren's assessment (in fact, he finds it quite on point), but it's clear he regards her as a secondary concern. Which, given past experience, might actually be the case.
Instead, he focuses on Loren's evaluation of Lily's capabilities. "She's done things even I'm not familiar with," the Gebler commander notes as an aside, then sips his tea. "Myyah?"
The violet-haired woman clears her throat. "As a measure of raw power, she's estimated to be at least Element-level - probably higher, given the commander's own engagements with her." Myyah tilts her head, mouth pursing in a faint expression of concentration. "Her control is likewise impressive, with lattices unaffected by at least two simultaneous manifestations." She sighs. "If we'd known exactly what we had the first time, we would have taken additional tests. But..."
"But none of that is your fault," Ramses cuts in, his eyes on Loren. "I've reviewed your reports on the matter, and find you handled the matter entirely reasonably. As you have throughout your tenure on the surface, despite the challenges you've faced." The Gebler commander leans back in his chair. "Your analysis of her capabilities is sound... from a tactical perspective. Certainly, removing her capability for Ether use would be an ideal means of destroying her. But you're focused on her power, not her knowledge." Ramses' eyes lock on Loren's. "As I said earlier - it's what she knows, not what she is, that makes her danger. To truly neutralize her - or even better, to turn her into an asset by influencing the situation, so that she fought to serve our interests while thinking she was doing the precise opposite..." He smiles. "...well. It's the sort of thing the capital expects of us, especially after the losses in the Photosphere. We can ill afford another victory like that one."
Ramses slowly rises from his chair. "This level of understanding - to rise above the tactical problem to see the solution other's can't... well, this is the operational art. Even among senior officers, it's what separates the truly exceptional from those who are simply good enough." The big man's face creases in a smile. "You've got the potential, Loren. You've taken the lead when others haven't, you've exercised your judgement. You haven't been right all the time," Ramses allows. "But you're still willing to act in spite of that. That's what I need - any fool can take action when they're sure. I need men and women who can act when they're not - hell, when nothing is certain. You have the potential," Ramses repeats. "If it's in there, we'll bring it out."
The 'or' is left unspoken.
Ramses looks to his left, and Myyah's heels click forward. "For now, however, a more serious problem - I regret to inform you that you're out of uniform, Captain Voss. At attention, please."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
"...She survived a Drive dosage that hadn't been calibrated for her body weight," Loren volunteers, if somewhat begrudgingly; he'd nearly endangered his career over that one, if then-Captain Yugh's telling of it had be true. But indeed -- it comes to the same conclusion: she had run rampant through the base after incapacitating him until she had made her equally improbably escape.
And she'd said she should have done more.
He glances over at Myyah, his tea still resting on the tabletop, untouched. Then again, his nerves are such right now that he probably doesn't precisely need a stimulant like caffeine.
Element-class. Like Van Houten had been. He looks away from her, staring instead at some indistinct point on the table. "I would have taken more samples," he agrees. He had only a few blood and tissue samples, long since sent away for analysis. Maybe if they had sent her to Etrenank instead...
He jerks his head up, and it might be unfortunately abundantly clear that this is the first time someone hasn't intimated to him that at least some part of that whole debacle wasn't his fault. As Leah has noted herself in the past, he's a little too honest, even when he's not saying a word. At a loss, he nods -- what do you say to that, anyway, 'thank you'?
But, still -- it's a weight lifted from him.
"Ah." He had said it was her 'knowledge', hadn't he. "That's... correct," he says, lowering his head a few degrees, touching his fingers to his glasses to slightly fidget with them. "The enemy of my enemy, perhaps." Though, currently, to what end would they pit her? What motivates someone like Lily Keil? They're all questions he can't quite answer -- at least certainly not right in the moment now.
"...I know." Leah had said she had considered it a victory. He had disagreed. Too much had been lost.
But the commander continues.
Loren blinks. This, he hadn't been expecting. He'd always thought -- felt -- like he was fumbling, reaching for a conclusion he couldn't properly see. But this was what it meant to have 'potential'? Because he didn't know what he was supposed to do but tried anyway?
He's going to have a lot to think about, later tonight.
"...Thank you, sir," he says, ducking his head in a shallow nod of acknowledgement.
Though he is not so naive as to miss that unspoken 'or'. In that, Ramses and Leah are as kin.
But Ramses is not done. Out of...
For a moment, it's as if the world has outright tilted -- his mind reels from the announcement. Instinct fortunately kicks in soon after: he stands, at attention, even while his brain struggles to make sense of what's just happened. "Sir."
Captain? I'm... what...?
<Pose Tracker> Kahran Ramses has posed.
Kahran Ramses, whatever else he is, has been, or will become, relishes moments such as these. He remembers his first promotion quite well - the first thing he earned, as himself, through the efforts of his own hands and mind. To be able to grant this to others is a privilege.
Because he also recognizes the 'what the hell' look quite well, he just carries on through, without missing a beat. "If you'll assist me, Myyah," he says, moving to Loren's left side, his aide de camp mirroring the gesture on the younger officer's left. "You have distinguished yourself beyond your peers and years alike," Ramses says, his hands working at Loren's rank pins, removing them from the left side, Myyah taking care of the left. "And I have no doubt you will continue to do so at your new rank." The captain's pips are secured in place with the ease of long practice; Ramses hands the old rank pins to Myyah, who pockets them away.
The Gebler commander steps back, adopting parade rest. "While you will continue to be classified as a staff officer, your assignment will be changing as well," Ramses says. "I don't quite have a name for it yet, but for the moment we'll call it a combat initiatives group - in essence, I'm giving you the liberty - and formal authority - to do what you've been doing already: identify and deal with threats to our efforts here. If you need something - assets, personnel, information - then all you must do is convince Myyah why you need it. She will convince me."
Ramses tilts his head. "Any questions, Captain?"
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
There's a certain point where the mind gives up with processing the occurence of a particular event and shunts that heavy lifting off to a future self. So it is now with Loren, who stares somewhere into the middle distance as the old rank pins are removed from his uniform and replaced with the new. Still, some thoughts make their way through the noise.
From the relieved: ...This means Petran isn't my superior anymore. Thank the Emperor.
To the somewhat more sober: This means I'll be managing people. More than the handful of Second Class medics allegedly (though hardly ever in practice) under his supervision.
And of course, to the catastrophic: Engil was my age when he was promoted to Captain. Just months before...
Ah. There it is.
So history really is repeating itself. There's his proof.
Rather than despair, in his gaze there is a certain sort of relief -- resolve, even. If this is fate, then he'll make sure what happens is what needs to be done, this time.
His assignment will be changing. Loren nods, a shallow movement. So he'll be moving towards a more active role.
Good, runs the thought, bright as daylight. He can't reach his dream from the sidelines.
"I understand, sir," he answers, his expression settling into a thoughtful neutral. "I'll await instruction on the new assignment." And in the meantime, proceed as he has been. In a sense nothing has changed.
In the same moment that everything has changed.
He shakes his head. "No, sir." Maybe there will be questions later. Maybe not. In this moment there is only clarity of direction forward amidst a suddenly upended world. What choice does he have but to follow?
<Pose Tracker> Kahran Ramses has posed.
"Very well," Ramses says, reaching out to clasp Loren's shoulder. "Congratulations, captain - take the rest of the day to enjoy yourself. There'll be time enough for duties. Dismissed," he adds, giving the younger officer a nod.
And then... paperwork.