Chapter Text
It had ended with a gunshot.
Even though the delicate hand of the princess had never pulled the trigger, Slaine was mentally hit with a bullet the moment when princess Asseylum had landed that specific gaze on him. The gaze of repulsion. Quickly, she had put the gun away, but that expression never left her beautiful face. Disappointment, distress, even anger, even shame, something permanently broken.
A gunshot was, nevertheless, a faulty metaphor and Slaine knew it. He had not met a sudden and intense end. Rather he had been slowly poisoned, refusing to accept that something was not right even when he was lying on the ground, bleeding from his mouth and nose. Of course, his actual body was physically as intact as a well-protected high official of the Versian Empire should be. It did not mean that there would be something left of his shattered personality.
A white hallway after a white hallway, a status report after report, an officer after officer, everything was just a meaningless background. There was no one for Slaine to fight this war. The months he had desperately sat by the comatose body of her princess, he had been simultaneously, intentionally or unintentionally, constructing a beautiful picture of her. The more time passed, the more the picture had expanded. In the end, he could not be sure which one he was waiting for.
Why to go on, why to send a ship after ship to meet its likely end, why to keep giving commands of life and death, commands of gradually declining quality, why to put forth all the effort if there was no graceful ending?
Princess Assyleum Vers Allusia cherished peace and Slaine knew he was himself the only one to provide it for her. He would build a kingdom for her. He would destroy all the obstacles for her. He would let the old states burn in flames and raise something much more beautiful from the ashes. For her.
As if that “her” in that imagination was not just an empty frame. There were still dozens of high-quality warships, hundreds of loyal subordinates and yet a princess sitting alone in her quarters, unwilling to see him, unwilling to talk with him, unwilling to even react towards him with any affection other than hostility. Some stupid short phases of dreams. Nothing actual. Perhaps never.
And yet Slaine fought. Why, for whom, but how to stop, how to ever find anything. A magnificent explosion lit up the view behind the window for a moment, turning likely at least a dozen low-rank soldiers from both sides to clouds of ashes that would slowly diffuse through the vacuum space. For Slaine, it was like a painting on a wall. Pictorial representation, unobtainable.
And perhaps from a corner of his eye he saw something, perhaps only a glimpse of color of some nameless carrier, perhaps a delusion, perhaps a blink of some light, but that was insignificant, the reminder had already filled Slaine’s mind. His posture had changed. His mind has sharpened. Slaine was again located somewhere, both physically and in the network of purposes. It was almost as if he had something actual to do, to achieve. Somewhere there had to be. An orange. An orange Kataphrakt.
**
It had begun with a surprising physical sensation.
The element of surprise was not caused by the presence of sensation itself but the sudden intensity of it. Inaho was forced to alter his course for a few seconds that could have been destructive concerning the objective he was presently executing.
The fight against Ortygia had been challenging but not beyond their capacities. Calculating the estimated locations of manifestations produced by quantum teleportation, which still fought like the original Martian Kataphrakt, because technically they all were the original, required a lot of computation capacity. It was self-evident that the only method for destroying all of them exactly simultaneously required centralized control of all the UFE Kataphrakts.
While waiting for an illustrative light to turn green in his enhanced vision, to signal the successful takeover of the targeting mechanisms of the entire platoon, Inaho felt it. Rather, he became aware that he had felt it all the time. Inaho performed the last coordinate updates almost blindly. He sat inside his Kataphrakt in darkness, in order to execute the plan that was their only chance in less than two seconds, all the targets locked, all firearm of the powerful Kataphrakt platoon ready and only his own, weak and shivering body inside his own unit as something that has almost been about to ruin everything permanently.
It was currently late evening and the side corridor of the ground floor of the base was mostly empty, and therefore an optimal place for Inaho to be alone.
Even though it was not likely, there was still a possibility that the third reviewing of the details of the recent battle gave him more information and thus more capacities to act more efficiently in the forthcoming combat situations. Inaho’s vision was filled with data, that has almost completely suppressed his other senses. He breathed slowly, deliberately not moving an inch, while letting his cognition unravel itself into structured patterns. Attack types, properties of materials, efficiencies of control modes, interactions, millions of data points forming comprehensive structures. Aiming to form comprehensive structures. Somewhere outside of time.
“..aho. Hey, Inaho!”
The sharp female voice interrupted him. Inaho turned his gaze well reserved to the shift that would most likely be increased in its intensity. For a split second, there was a blurred face of a person in front of him. Inko, whose face was unreadable. Because everything was unreadable for that moment that must have been only a blink but felt longer and longer each time. Inaho was careful to keep his face neutral when he dived or rather fell, collapsed. His virtual structures and environments shattered, and his ordinary senses returned far too sharp. He could feel how threads of synthetic impulse inside his head slowed down and sought new routes. From his virtual environment, Inaho had descended on the level of ordinary world inhabited by other people, in theory ready to interact with them.
“Inaho!”
Now his name was clearly spoken by the lips of Inko. She was there in front of him, and behind an ordinary hallway of a UFE base, such hallway that was often undisturbed and therefore a convenient place. That was why he was here. Inaho was on place and time. Inaho was ready to interact if required. Why had the shift been so intense this time? He was able to use his engine to its limits perfectly well, he claimed himself. He was still to be utilized as a most efficient instrument of the resistance, which was unquestionably important because of, because of, because of.
Blankness?
Inko was inquiring if everything was all right, Inaho had no reason to tell her nothing other than the ordinary positive answer, they discussed briefly about different possibilities to the next turns in the war situation, she left, Inaho was almost stunned by his own moment of blankness, the sudden inability to continue the thought.
It was a bit surprising that the shift in the other direction was not so intense. However, there was a really brief but very, very sharp moment of the weirdest, almost stunning sensation somewhere inside his skull, before the microcurrent pulses properly settled, and his perception was once again devoted to the maximum analysis mode. It did not take many seconds to find amongst the data the factions that were most reviewed. The sheer amount of time Inaho had used to analyse them again and again was already a sufficient sign that he was not lost, there was no blankness without purpose, it was not that he had no role or no actual tasks to achieve. He had.
Inaho sharpened the image, forgot his physical body and devoted himself once again to the exact analysis of the movements of the graceful white Martian Kataphrakt, the intriguing behavior of its pilot whose name he could never forget.
**
“… was successful. However, what comes to the southern front, our troops met a surprisingly tough resistance, and the operation could not be executed completely.”
The silence of Harklight entailed that it was his turn to give a statement. Again, Slaine had to show signs of an incompetent leader and ask Harklight to repeat the content of the report.
“Milord. This concerned the operation at the Indian peninsula. The objective of conquering the major cities with a two-front operation succeeded only partially, because…”
Slaine was off again and did not bother to try to catch up. The endless names of cities and places he barely recognized, numbing lists of names of troops and command chains, long ago he had stopped to pretend this was in the realm of his understanding. At first it had made him anxious, how to ever be the great, convincing leader if he could not simultaneously be a competent soldier, deep in the details, hands on the ground, ready to grab the controls of a Kataphrakt himself whenever the call came. But no, he was now the caller.
The shining suit of a count was uncomfortable. It was made for him according to his measures, but still, the collar kept being too tight, pants too long, the entire thing wrong like some miserable party costume. The stupid suit, and the elaborately filtered cold air of the moonbase, even the presence of Harklight, everything was entangled around him so tight that it was hard to breathe. Slaine kept focus on his own physical sensations during the speech of Harklight, as if to avoid starting to comprehend, to comprehend that perhaps there were nothing to comprehend.
“Milord?”
“That is partly positive but simultaneously partly unsettling and clearly requires further observation.”
In the end, Slaine was an automate, had always been. The one making the now even more vacuous comments was a carefully constructed figure, an empty mask. For a fair period of time, it had been relatively easy to drive. In the end, the figure of Count Slaine was not so different from Tharsis or even a regular Martian fighter. In it, he could just approach people and situations as someone else, someone stronger and greater than him, and meet the expected treatment.
“What shall I tell him, Milord?”
Slaine cursed himself, again he had not listened to Harklight’s question, and had to meet the concerned face of his loyal servant again in a short period of time.
“Excuse me, Harklight. I must have been… off again. Could you repeat the question?”
“Count Barouhcruz has asked for your audience. He wishes to meet you in fifteen minutes, to discuss important matters.”
Was it just Slaine’s imagination, or was there a glimpse of reluctance or dislike in a way Harklight uttered the word “important”?
Nevertheless, he had no other options than to go on. To say yes, to meet the passive-aggressive words of his fellow counts, then to proceed, and, to…
To what?
Yes, indeed, what.
Slaine had barely taken a breath until he was in front of Barouhcruz, subjected to the subtle mocking once again, barely another, he was only with Harklight. As if the conversations happening right now carried so little meaning that his mind and body automatically ignored them.
“Harklight”, Slaine began, but unable to continue.
**
The figure of the Moon Base of the Versian Empire was projected as a three-dimensional holograph above a large, horizontal screen. The projection could be moved and zoomed in, and its more precise details could be examined by clicking them. Still, it was only a projection and despite its level of detail, it lacked a considerable amount of crucial data. The faces of platoon commanders and captains were focused as the details of the hypothetical entrances of the base were demonstrated, as well as it could be done with the imperfect data.
Inaho stood three steps behind captain Magbaredge, intentionally not in the same row with the other captains. Nevertheless, he was about to ignore possible questionnaires about his appropriateness to be in that room as a regular soldier. First of all, the others in the room probably lacked crucial parts of knowledge which he was able to provide, so it was only pragmatical for Inaho to be with them. Secondly, there were sections in Inaho’s own plans, which absolutely required the exact information that was communicated to those responsible in the execution of the operation.
Inaho listened carefully, memorizing the details without having to rely on the assistance of his Engine. At least he still reflected having a separable, mostly unenhanced cognition, that appeared primarily in those periods when he had rendered the visual data overlays to the minimum and stared at the world with only a minimal level of additional data, almost as approximately a year ago. This was not the moment to start to contemplate the thought that this was probably a fallacy.
After deciding he had received enough information, Inaho took a few steps back and prepared to link them to his larger blueprint.
“Kaizuka.”
The sharp voice of captain Magbaredge interrupted him. Inaho prepared himself to hear what she would have to say.
“I know that you must also be concerned. The Deucalion is once again used merely as a bait, as if those high-level bast… people didn’t trust us. However, although it is frustrating, I want you to be aware that in this exact operation, your role will be-“
“In the frontline of the Mustang Platoon, alongside with Amifumi, Areash and other Mustang Platoon units, attacking the landing castle just mentioned, ensuring to draw the enemy’s attention to us, in order to provide the infiltration squad a secure entrance to the enemy base.”
Magbaredge stared him for a while, but did not say anything.
Inaho might be forced to soon construct a lie, which was something that still remained one of his weaknesses. That was why, in situations like this, he aimed to stay in the truth as well as possible. Also, just now he had only provided clear facts.
“Kaizuka Inaho”, the captain finally said. “I want to be able to trust you. I hope that you will be worth my trust. Will you?”
This was easy for Inaho. He could speak completely honestly. There was plenty of things neither Magbaredge nor any of the higher officials could see but he understood, and thus the objectively best way to provide his trustworthiness was to maintain his own plans that were constantly to become more and more optimal. There were several important factors whose simultaneous controlling would be challenging but beyond possible. The safety of Asseylum and the possible means to promote a cease of the battles, as some of the objectives. He had also more.
“I will, captain.”
**
The graceful, white frame of Tharsis, one of the most powerful of the Aldnoah-driven Kataphrakts, stood in the hangar clearly waiting. It was still and no one was inside on the controls, but yet it was as if at any moment it could dash into battle, its predictive abilities ensuring that no one or nothing ever gets ahead of it. It was not that Slaine felt safe while sitting inside that massive weaponry, but at least it made him feel somehow, like he was in control.
For some reason, Slaine would gladly have sat there right now, seeing what no one other could see. He was still going to do that at some point and the thought gave him an odd feeling that was almost like a relief. Of course, he would not think about how the fantastic ability to see the future had not helped him at all to not to drive him in that corner where he now clearly was.
Staring yearningly to the hangar, Slaine had almost missed the start of the next meeting. Was there nothing but endless meetings and strategy plans in this thing called a war?
**
Inaho reviewed his premises. At the lowest level, one could list people whose safety needed to be ensured, and that had to be counted as a meaningful factor in whatever actions he was about to perform.
Asseylum. Even after several concrete failures, she still possessed the capacity to truly be a catalyst of peace. She was also a friendly personality and therefore suited perfectly to the larger aims that Inaho was part of, for creating a lasting peace. Inaho was also aware of his own special role for Asseylum herself, as such a person from the UFE side, who could actually help her. For these reasons, it was his responsibility to ensure that she could be safe.
The crew of the Deucalion. Those were Inaho’s trusted companions, and also the operational system that Inaho was currently part of. They needed each other, nowadays even more in that way where the others were on the receiving side. There were also people that called Inaho their friend and so did Inaho also himself. The plans needed to be in such a way that the safety of friends was ensured.
Rayet Areash. She was part of the crew, as well as those that Inaho had labeled as ‘friends’ but still Inaho listed her separately. The Martian girl possessed some capabilities, including psychological, that made her an extraordinary companion for Inaho in conflict situations. Inaho thought she was more prepared to trust him as himself, not through some surplus wall of unnecessary patronizing that tried to stop him doing things actually optimally. Not like Yuki.
And yes, Yuki. Inaho would care about her family no less than before. So nothing unusual about her.
**
A skillful strike had just destroyed a small but important UFE base. How unimportant. They had nevertheless just lost a good number of skycarriers as well as land vehicles. How unimportant.
It is obvious that it should not have been unimportant but the main concern to Slaine, to Count Slaine, to whom this information was addressed to, in the middle of a strategy meeting with several eyes locked on him, waiting for an adequate response.
Slaine looked back and saw emptiness.
Slaine was not to stop.
*