Chapter Text
four weeks before the scarlet keep offensive
There is no air in space. Sound can’t be created, let alone heard. The only noises out in the inky black are the quiet rasping of your respirator and the gentle thunk of helmet against metal if you lose your bearings badly enough. Everything else is still. Some Ghosts play noises out the helmet speakers to keep the silence at bay, timing facsimile sounds to match with their Guardian’s actions, the firing of gas maneuvering jets or stream of a plasma cutter.
Some Guardians prefer the silence. Enjoy the silence.
Astra-4 drifted slowly through the void of the Reef. She wore no helmet, but a specialised visor gently resting in front of her eyes. A lengthy tether drifted behind her, anchoring her to her jumpship as the various jump-jets on her body adjusted her course, pushing her closer to her quarry. If it weren’t for the lines of data fed to her HUD and the gentle nudge of the thrusters, she wouldn’t know they were firing. It was quiet. Her Ghost softly whispered things like “No asteroids in flight path” “Fuel at 94%,” and “Contract target at bearing 271 by 35.2 by 7,” though she barely paid attention. She could hear things in the silence.
Her objective, one of Spider’s skiffs, drifted into view, hidden behind one of the battle scarred rocks of the Reef. The Scorn had left their mark on both objects, blue plasma still burning hot lines into the spinmetal hull while impact fissures had cracked open the canopy. A single Fallen body floated limply, held in place by the straps of the seat as the dim displays flickered meaninglessly around him. She knew this one. Lysrasks. He’d had good game, played her out of some glimmer before regaling her with tales from his journeys. He was a friend.
Astra scanned the corpse before wordlessly swiping any glimmer or materials Lysrasks once had on him.
He wouldn’t be needing them.
That, and Spider had a finders keepers policy. Ghost objected, as she always does, but the void’s gentle whispers brushed those noises aside.
Astra reached down, deftly unclipping the seat straps that kept the Eliksni attached to the ship and secured a secondary tether to Lysrasks’s corpse, looping it through the bands on his armor. The reel started pulling not a second later, minuscule thrusters moving the body through the debris as it was towed back to the ship. A simple burial awaited it, but better than an endless adrift through space.
Astra was already moving on.
A small plasma torch floated towards her hand, guided and tugged by the paracausal power used to gently manipulate it. Astra’s hand gripped it and, with the other hand, a knife. The tip dug under the monitor of the main display, and with little effort, a small lid was lifted. A metropolis of wires and circuits laid underneath, resting atop a small black rectangle. A quick scan found the blackbox intact, and the plasma torch ignited, burning through streets and walkways of arc energy before melting the brackets that formed the foundation of security.
The Blackbox floated free, and was quickly grasped before being transmatted into the prepared storage aboard Astra’s jumpship by Ghost.
Astra was already moving on.
The Scorn had blown the lock leading to the cargo hold. The Exo’s eyes brightened as she entered, becoming small spotlights as Ghost drifted out and let her Light fill the room. Ambient. Almost calming.
The crates containing weapons, ether, electronics, and the rest, had all been gutted, harvested down to the last drop. Packing foam was strewn everywhere, floating through the hold now that the artificial gravity no longer kept them in place. Metal shards and plasteel splinters littered the space around her, making it dangerous to move. A single one could easily drift into her circuitry, short something that wasn’t meant to be shorted.
Icy cold gathered at her fingertips, drawing power close to her. Limited, but a force of repulsion. Her hand squeezed, shattering the small crystal of pressure and energy into a subtle wave. If there were air, a sharp and cold breeze would have been felt, playing and caressing one’s body with frigid hands and fingers. But there was no air, and the shards of metal and foam were forced to the sides of the ship, and the whispers grew louder.
They were pleased.
Astra swept her HUD over the empty forms of the crates, determining that nothing of value remained in them. This was expected, and no major loss. Weapons, shards, cores, all replaceable.
Astra’s jump-jets oriented her so she was roughly standing on the floor, though still not standing. A small twinge went through her silicate brain as strong magnetic boots and knee pads activated, the new forces interfering with her electronics for a second before she could automatically compensate. A semblance of gravity was restored, though, and she could get to work.
The plasma torch found her hand again and was quickly switched on as her visor’s HUD shifted to an overlay mode, with the schematics of the ship laid on top of her vision. Her real quarry was under the floor, beneath a sealed hatch that, to a hasty or untrained eye, would look like just another bulkhead.
If there were air, the metal would have hissed and sizzles and shrieked as the blue plasma flame found it. But instead it was silence, with occasional globs of metal being spat by the floor towards its attacker. Her paracausal-woven shield easily dealt with those, a layer of crystal ice forming over them as they approached, cooling them and slowing them. The hatch was easy to remove, with the plasma torch being almost overkill as it burnt through the struts and supports.
The Whispers grew Louder.
A simple-looking case was eventually revealed, shrouded in lead, to keep radiation in, and a praseodymium-nickel alloy to render it invisible to thermal scanners. It was roughly the size of a gun case, black in color and covered in uniform, gently peaked triangles. Her visor couldn’t see inside it.
Louder,
Her contract was clear, she mustn't open it, look inside it, but
Louder
Ghost eyed her warily, voicing her concerns, but she was so quiet and the whispers so much
LOUDER
Clasps flipped
LOUDER
Lid opened-
L̈͑̋̄ͩ҉̷͔̮̱̤̰̖̬̝͚̞͈̯̲͚̥͔͓͍͘ ̵̡͍̣͚̤̯͓̭̾̽ͬͣ̑ͮ͋̎̍͌̉͗̉O̴̢͈͇̬̻̼͕̙̱̥̭̼͋̽̔ͤ͛͋ͯ̔ͬ̄͒̀ͯ̉̃͟͠ ͤ̊ͧ̀ͨ́͑̿͛҉̸̢̕͏̣̞̗̩͖͔̳̦͍͇̯̭̩U̯̖̦̳̩̦̖̯̟̞̭͓̯̎̿̀ͩ͟͜ ̶̶̤̩̹̲̫̝͉̟͈̅͆͒͂̒̽́̏̈͑͛̈̓͒ͥͭ̈́̈́͘͜͠ͅD̵̛̞͈͕̲̥͖̰̰̝̤̜̞̖͖͖͓͍̹͐ͫ͛̍ͤͮ̽ͣ̆̍͛͂͗̄͑̃̚͘͜ ̢̧͍͕̩͔̬̩̦ͣͣ͂͋̂̆͗ͤ̕͜͢E̾͌ͥͬͯ͐̍ͦͬ͌͝҉̶̰̪̯͕̮̼̪̼̟̭̬͈̻̱̕͜ͅ ̴̬͉͇̲̎̿̆ͫ͛̾̐̇̑̅̈́ͮ̕͟͠R̵̨̻̰̳̹̣̯̬̪͍̯̻̳͈̳͑ͤ̃̓̾ͮ̀̍̿̐̄̚͜ͅͅ
Eyes widened,-
Are we too loud, O Seeker Mine?
The case landed roughly in Tyksir’s lower arms, as the Spider’s laughter echoed through the chamber he called home.
“A service well executed, my profitable friend,” he boasted, reaching out a long arm to take the case from his lesser. “Your payment, in full, and more ships waiting should you feel… inclined.” A pouch containing enhancement cores, glimmer and shards fell to Astra's side, thrown by Tyskir but unnoticed by her.
Spider noticed the Hunter’s new pauldron and opened his mouth to ask but,
Astra was already Moving On.