rekindledtitan | Excerpt 003: Ship’s Cradle

Entry tags:

Excerpt 003: Ship’s Cradle

TYPE: Personal log

LOCATION: Orbit, Earth

PARTIES: Three [3]. One [1] Ghost-type, [1] Guardian-type, designate Blaze-37, Class Titan [

rekindledtitan], One [1] Unconfirmed, designate Hughes, Maes [

bestdadinamestris]

ASSOCIATIONS: Multiversal Nexus; Maes Hughes; Earth; Multiversal Phenomena; Blaze-37; Amestris; Dr. Hill; Deep Stone Crypt; [REDACTED]

Blaze should have figured the warning signs for what they were. When the senses slow and the body insists on sinking into the nearest furniture, it ought to be a clue. But she has no memory of fatigue, no sense of whether her body is just complaining or injured or seriously needs to rest. So it’s not until their meeting at the Harp sees her stuffed with food and forced to actually sit down for a while that the torpor kicks in.

She’d like to shake it off, but the more level (and more inorganic) heads around her are able to point out that that’s not how human biology works.

She’s yawning uncontrollably when they materialize aboard her one-room jumpship. It wakes up for them with a soft hum, lights revealing a cabin just big enough for both she and Hughes to move around. Every inch of the clean metal plating looks like it’s part of some compartment or pull-out section, and that includes the floor. To sharp Exo senses it might look a bit patchwork, too: different panels have subtly different finishes; signs of repair are everywhere. There’s little sign of home comforts: just one cushy pilot’s chair, Blaze’s helmet clipped alongside it.

“I’m… going to power up the life-support systems,” the Ghost says, swooping over to the controls.

Blaze tries to talk through her next yawn. “Oh… yyyeah. Good thinking. Uh.” She looks up at Hughes and waves a hand toward the star-speckled view up front. “Welcome to Earth orbit.”

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Blaze looks up at Hughes for a second. If she notices his concern, she’s dismissing it as readily as she does Ghost’s. Why get concerned about something that can’t be changed? That surely doesn’t matter in any case?

“Right.” Dried off, she replaces the glasses carefully and checks they’re straight. She takes a last look at the view, nodding toward it. “That’s something, you know. Seeing Earth the way our- hm, the way humans see it. Wouldn’t mind remembering that.”

The cloth is put away for later washing before she nods to Ghost. “All right. Make it somewhere we’ve already seen. No wandering about.”

She's going to try ribbing Hughes into some fun if she realizes he's backing out on that.

"The Harp it is, then." They've got plenty of savory things to eat there and the staff is always accommodating to his out-of-the-ordinary requests. No reason to think they'd do otherwise, given they saw him in Blaze's body yesterday. "Can you get us back to the Nexus?"

She can rib all she wants, but it's likely she's going to get frowning Dad face in response.

Blaze nods to the Ghost, who flashes and announces, “If everyone’s ready…”

Since everyone is, it transmats them to a point outside the main door of the Harp. Blaze leads the way in. She wants to get them a table well inside by a wall where she doesn’t have to keep looking up at strangers. Might mean less stimulation for Hughes to deal with, too. She’ll let her friend order, only butting in to veto any coffee (for some reason, she’s not in the mood for that) and to check if he wants another powerpack.

The guy could use something to lighten his mood, in her opinion.

Less people to deal with is probably a good idea right now. Being in a familiar place, but not sensing things as he normally would, puts him on edge. He order breakfast for Blaze quietly, passing on the powerpack for himself, and sighs once the satyr-waiter is out of earshot.

"I know food's off the table, but I don't suppose I can have a drink in your either, huh?" Not that it would do much for his nerves in his own body, but he needs something to fidget with right now.

She's been eyeing the table grimly, but now her head snaps up, looking startled at him.

"That's what the pack is for. You didn't realize?" She's been trying to get you buzzed this whole time, Hughes. "Guess it's not as close as I thought."

"I'm not sure we really stopped to explain everything clearly," the Ghost points out diplomatically. It's quite an understatement. Moreso considering the number of things Blaze has actively chosen not to stop and explain.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then he shakes his head.

"Could've told me sooner. I could've used a drink yesterday to calm my nerves even a little bit." Take that as a 'yes I'll take one powerpack, please.'

"Anything else I should know while we're on the subject?"

"Uhhh. Nothing urgent, I think." She cocks her head at him speculatively. "Okay, here's something. Give me your arm, and hold it still."

Soon as he's got his hands on that powerpack, he's taking a nice long swig, because this seems like it's about to be one of 'those' kinds of conversations.

He holds out his arm, perfectly still despite his nervousness. "Now what?"

She grabs his arm with business-like briskness, finding the catches and the circuit overrides from memory. Lucky her armor isn't too fancy and secure yet, because this way she's able to detach the gauntlet and slide it off, giving Hughes his first look at his new hand.

For the heavy gauntlet and the weight behind it - for the steel-crushing strength it still bears - the Exo hand seems oddly slender, almost skeletal in its white plating. The sleeve of his innermost bodysuit extends over the wrist, black and soft, but Blaze rolls that back a bit so he can see the joint. There's a minimum of visible moving parts: his body looks armored even beneath the armor.

"All right. Mind the shift in weight," she warns, setting the gauntlet aside. The caution is reinforced by the heavy thunk: there's quite a bit of mass layered into the armor along with fancier ways of making her punches hit harder.

Blaze turns his palm over, and then runs her fingertips lightly over his hand. And it turns out that whatever the stereotypes about robots, an Exo's sense of touch is thousands of times more sensitive than a human's. Hughes will be able to feel his own fingerprints, the tiny scars on his skin, the precise friction and flex as human skin brushes against its machine counterpart.

Hughes watches with an immense fascination as Blaze removes the gauntlet. And then she's running her fingers - his fingers - along the exo hand and the sensations are exhilarating. He can feel his own finger prints, feel the dozens of tiny cuts along his fingers from his push knives, all the small things that make his hands so rough. It's amazing...

...for about three seconds until it becomes a little too much. He snatches his extended hand back rapidly, which brings about a whole new set of sensations. The mix of warm air currents with the cold, stale air creeping into the Harp. Tiny particles floating in the air bumping into his hand. The moisture of Blaze's breath against his skin as he pulls his hand past her face.

"Enough. Enough." The experiment was fun, but Hughes wasn't ready for so much at once, it seems.

Blaze is obviously startled when he jerks his hand away, glad she wasn't trying to hold on. She blinks at him for a minute, then picks up the gauntlet to offer it to him. Hovering between them, the Ghost looks a little wide-eyed, for a being with just one eye.

"You all right?" Blaze queries, low voiced and frowning quietly as she watches him.

"Yeah, fine." There's an audible sigh as flexes and stretches his fingers after the gauntlet is back on. Now he gets the need for the armor - feeling that all the time would be hell on the senses. "Just a little much, that's all."

Don't mind him if he finishes off the rest of that powerpack, though.

"Guess you're not calibrated for my senses either." She nods. "That's one reason Exos wear clothes, even those who've left combat duties. Cuts down the extra sensory input if you don't want distractions." Which isn't such a big deal for everyone, but... stimuli tend to trigger the memory, too.

Hell, even the tactile feed through the armor isn't far off a human's sensitivity, but it's much easier to handle.

She chuckles. "Course, mostly it's just habit and culture. Feels kinda vulnerable otherwise, you know?"

"Guess some things don't change no matter where or when you're from," he observes with a chuckle.

And then breakfast arrives. A plate full of eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and a fresh, warm strawberry scone. It may look daunting to Blaze, but Hughes is sad that he won't get to enjoy it. The food at the Harp is always amazing. "Don't have to eat all of it," he notes, "but at least half would be a good start."

As for himself? Hughes is getting another powerpack. The edge hasn't worn off yet and he could use a little more to push him in that direction.

"Humans." Blaze shrugs, but there's a kind of affection in her voice.

Faced with the full breakfast, she gives a grim nod (in complete contrast to the way her mouth waters and her stomach growls at that smell). She digs in with a steady determination most people reserve for digging trenches. Maybe she's actually trying not to enjoy it.

She's deliberately not thinking on her moment of confusion at the cleaning bench; she'd rather not think about any of her current sensations, but there's nothing here she's allowed to hit. Hard to do that and eat, anyway. Suddenly the risks of talking to Hughes seem much less. Blaze eyes him as he starts on the next pack. She knows her own capacity; at this rate, he'll start to get pleasantly buzzed pretty soon. Pretty chatty, too. It's worth venturing some conversation to see if she can get him started. She's planning to put away all the food she can, and it'll help if he supplies the noise.

Blaze, too, can be more calculating than she normally appears.

"Don't really get how you do it, you know." She's still getting to grips with the cutlery, eyes on the bacon she's cutting. Thank Light for Hughes' muscle memory. "I always figured that's why they chose us from the dead. No family ties left, even if you weren't Exo. Only the fight. Makes it easier."

No-one to miss you, or be missed in the field. Only your brothers and sisters in arms, and who would abandon them?

Hughes is quiet for a moment while he finishes the second powerpack. The buzz is... different from what he's used to, but not unpleasant. As much as he wants another, he's going to pass for now. Best to see how this settles out before diving in too deeply.

"If you have no family, what do you fight for? What makes it worth while? Is it your comrades-in-arms? Your friends? Pride for a job well done? There's any number of things to become attached to, all of which can cause ties that hurt when they're lost or severed."

Maybe not the kind of noise Blaze was hoping for, is it?

She was definitely hoping for more harmless family talk and less of this weird introspection stuff, that’s for sure. Maybe she’s not very good at harmless chatter right now.

“I fight for all of those. The Light. The City. Humanity. Fun. Still seems less- hm. Distracting, if you ask me. All those reasons come back to the battlefield. You lose them, it’s probably because you’ve lost everything. Nothing else to worry about.” She has another mouthful, swallows and shrugs. “It’s simple.”

Hughes nods along as Blaze explains. "It's the same way with family. If you lose that battle you're fighting, that war? You've likely lost your reason for fighting as well." He shrugs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"It's all a matter of perspective. My family makes the fight worth while for me. I have every reason to give my all, because they're waiting for me. For some, the risk is too great. For me? It's exactly what I need."

Somewhere in that Exo body he's currently residing in, Hughes is smiling about that. He could say any number of things about the subject, but, really, it comes down to choosing your reasons for fighting. And for Hughes, it's his family. Always has been, always will be.

Blaze grunts in a way that says she still doesn’t get it. But also she’s taking the chance to shovel that hash brown into her mouth. Here’s hoping her next lesson isn’t ‘the joys of indigestion’.

“What about them? Doesn’t bother them when you’re off in the field? When you’re up against that risk?” Keep talking, Hughes. She has no idea about any of this stuff. “Besides, seems to me family’s a whole distraction on its own.” What's the jam supposed to be for? Doesn't go too well with the eggs, she's figured that out anyway.

Hughes made sure to order things that wouldn't cause Blaze any discomfort. He knows his own body well enough to avoid all the worst things for her.

"They don't like it, and my daughter may not understand what's going on, but my wife does. She knows when the fight's important, understands why I do what I do. If I were to stop for any reason, she'd tell me to pick myself back up and keep going." He chuckles softly. "She's as determined and stubborn about things as I am, and about me most of all. There's no way she'd let me stop unless I was physically unable to keep going. Even then, she'd have a hell of a time getting me to stand down."

Hmm, that buzz seems to be fading already. Time for another powerpack. One more can't hurt, right? "Honestly, having my family be a distraction for me is a good thing. I remember to go home, to take time to enjoy life outside of work. It's important, with all of the crazy things happening in my life, to remind myself why I do what I do by spending time with my family."

“Sounds like a woman I’d like to know. Military too?” Blaze has her own ideas of what’s good for both of them right now, and she looks quite approving as Hughes calls for another powerpack. “Guess I’ll have to take your word on the rest.”

She’s quiet for a minute or two, frowning intensely. She’s running short on stuff to talk about that isn’t awful: her head’s too full of things she doesn’t understand or want. It occurs to her that she ought to apologize for last night and without thinking she adds, “Sorry if I, uh, yelled last night.”

Only once it’s said does it occur to her that's too close to one of the subjects she’s trying to avoid. (Too damn many of those, part of her thinks irritably.) Should have saved that for a more opportune time. But- Light, it’s said now, she ought to say it sometime. It’s not going to get more comfortable three hours from now. And maybe this isn’t so bad. Hughes can’t fault her for not talking unnecessarily when she’s busy cramming her mouth with half the day’s nutritional requirement.

"No, not military." Like Hughes would let Gracia near the mess he finds himself in. "She stays at home with our daughter. I... don't know what I'd do without her. Without her help, our household would fall apart. She tracks bills, does most of the chores, does all the hard parts of raising our daughter, and still manages to make it all look easy. I admit that she's my everything. ...well, she and my daughter both, but I don't rightly know what I'd do without them outside of continuing the fight."

Is it easy to tell that he's beaming somewhere in that Exo body he's currently residing in? He's used to talking about his family with others, used to telling them about the cute things his daughter is doing or the way his wife looked so beautiful when he left the house that day, but this? This is different. And it's wonderful.

Hughes is vaguely concerned by the change in subject, but he takes a moment to think after the words are out there. After dipping into the next powerpack, he speaks. "You sure everything's okay? I'm not upset about what happened, but I am worried. What's going on in that head of yours? Do you want to talk about it?" The answer to that last question is obvious, but it needs to be asked anyway.

“What’s her name?” She has to ask. He’s so happy when he speaks of his family. It’s obvious to Blaze, knowing the signs: the exact way his optics flare, the affection and pride in his voice… it’s almost visible, the way he brightens up.

Weird as hell to hear in her own voice, though.

She should have asked him about this to begin with, she thinks. Should have known…

His questions bring a shrug as she puts away another hash brown. The food’s keeping up its end; it buys her time before she has to answer. “Not much to talk about. Think my systems are just off. Not used to the way this body responds.”

She notices the way her Ghost is looking at her and swallows to insist, “There’s nothing worth worrying over.”

"Gracia. Our daughter's name is Elicia." More beaming. He's just so damn happy about having them in his life.

"Bullshit." Hughes knows his own tells well enough to see Blaze use them. The use of the food in front of her to have an extra moment to think. Not meeting Hughes' gaze unless absolutely necessary. Slight changes in breathing pattern. Sorry, Blaze, but there's no way around this now that you've brought it up. "If it bothers you, it's worth worrying about. Now come on. Tell me."

“Hmm.” She nods; she’ll remember the names. His love for them is something to see. Really is the kind of thing they’re out there to protect. Except Hughes is out in the line of fire, too. That’s… still something she’s glad to avoid with her brethren. She knows war and its costs very well. But it’s been a long time since she could put a name to anyone in Hughes’ position.

Her head snaps up when Hughes calls her out, staring at him fiercely. But she doesn’t deny it. Can't, really.

“Worrying isn’t going to fix anything, Hughes,” she points out. Still, she’s stopped shoveling food into her mouth; she lays down knife and fork for a while.

“Exos used to get rebooted once in a while,” she says quietly. “Reset, memories wiped. Happened to everyone at least once. That’s why we don’t remember our origins. I wind up mentioning that to most people here. Thing is – they didn’t wipe everything. Stuff gets left behind. Fragments. Trace memories.” She wishes she had a power pack right now. It’d make talking easier. She sighs wearily.

“Like I told you earlier, the reincarnation process – getting remade mind and body – that stirs things up, rearranges them. Does funny stuff to your head sometimes. And I estimate I’ve been through about three dozen reboots. That makes for a lot of clutter. So I don’t honestly know what’s going on in here, but I am sure it’s meshing pretty badly with human senses.” It’s the only sensible explanation for what she experienced earlier. New sensations contaminating the old.

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