The Arrival

Aurem looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand, holding his newly issued beret down with the other, as the oddly colored floating ship descended. Arieta stood next to him in a similar fashion. The flaps of the tent from which they had just emerged waved violently in the artificially created wind.

"How the hell does that ugly thing even float?" Aurem asked.

"You really shouldn't make fun of the color scheme your commanding officer chooses," Arieta replied.

"And you're one to talk about talking back to superior officers, Ms. I'm-going-to-have-an-emotional-outburst-at-the-Lieutenant. Besides, whether it was ugly or not, which it is, wasn't the point."

Arieta took on a look of mock indignation. "Me? I dunno what you're talking about. I was just... uh..."

"Still missing the point, or dodging it at least, apparently." Aurem said rolling his eyes. Maybe Sergeant Slater would know how those things stayed in the air. Aurem probably didn't want to hear the correct and most likely long winded answer from him though.

The pair began walking toward the newly landed ship to investigate it a bit. They passed Thorvald and his drinking crew on their way by, and heard pieces of a strange accent. Strange above and beyond Thorvald's already relatively high level of strangeness, if that were actually possible.

"Isn't that... uh...what's-his-name's drinking group?" Aurem asked.

"Can't you even remember Thorvald's name for a week? I'm pretty sure you even said it yesterday. What kind of strange selective memory do you have anyway?"

Aurem decided now might be a good time to add selective hearing to his selective memory.

"I'm thinking a detour might be in order..." Aurem said, quickly changing course to lead them around Thorvald's group. Far around. Aurem wasn't sure how large a group Thorvald's drinking buddies actually were..

"Detour. Yep. Good plan." Arieta said quickly, switching to follow Aurem's new path without even breaking stride. Her eyes darted quickly back and forth between all the intoxicated men in the area.

"Can we go faster?"

Kyle Slater beheld the painted monstrosity with a mixture of awe and chagrin - but mostly awe. Tybalt probably would have called it something like "The Plaid Passage-maker" or "The Lurid Leviathan." Kyle just gaped at the massive propulsion systems that were keeping the monstrocity airborne. He wondered if anybody realized the magnitude of the raw power necessary to keep something like that afloat, how many Minovsky particles were buzzing around to keep it there, levitating.

Glancing to his left, he saw Aurem and Arieta, gaping at it similarly. He wondered if they understood the ship's propulsion system. He wanted to ask them, but after a moment's consideration, decided against it. They seemed more like the type to nod politely rather than display intense interest, and Kyle had no desire to talk to brick walls. He'd learned a few things since he'd joined the military, and he had become better at interacting with others.

Instead, he contented himself with sidling up beside the pair, and commenting on something that he knew they'd be interested in talking about: the paint job. He cleared his throat as to not surprise them, and said in as neutral a tone as he could manage, "I heard they had it painted in Scotland, but I thought the ship was supposed to be Dutch."

The brig, huh? Kyle despised places like the brig: No computer access, no freedom to move around, and nothing to do but talk with the people in your cell. To top it all off, he hadn't been doing anything wrong. What was with authority figures, injustice and misunderstanding? He'd almost have chosen the physical training, were not Lt. Gerard leading it. He looked around for his teammate Karol Ryder, but didn't see him in the crowd. Kyle figured he would be in the hangar, attending to his GM CCT; it's where Kyle would have been, earlier in his career. Lamenting the missed chance to get to know his teammate, Kyle trotted up to Aurem and Arieta - or Aurieta, as he liked to call them.

He made some decent smalltalk on the way to the brig; he even managed a brief apology for his behavior earlier, which met with a brief smile from Arieta and a curt nod from Aurem. accepted but Kyle was mostly concentrating on the hulk of a ship that they were walking through. Aurieta almost certainly noticed, but they understood Kyle enough to know what was going on. He was fascinated with the way that Minovsky particle technology was integrated with more traditional electronics. He wished for just 10 minutes at an operating console on the ship, and 10 hours - no, 10 days - with its operating manual.

But it still wouldn't be enough; the ship was massive, and since the brig was near the center of the ship, there was plenty to see on the way there. He caught glimpses of the ship's Minovsky craft system through a porthole into the engine room, and a few men in black uniforms and black berets marched by smartly. Kyle absently wondered if they were difficult to care for, before turning his thoughts back to the wonder that was the Minovsky craft system.

All too soon, they had reached the brig. It was depressingly devoid of technology; the thick transparent plastic reinforced with close-knit metal bars of an unknown alloy was deterrent enough to escape. Kyle settled down into a corner of the cell to wait things out, and then he noticed something. Maybe the ship's engineers hadn't finished closing up everything in the ship, or maybe it had been poorly designed, but there was an exposed electrical panel on the far end of the cell.

Now, Kyle had seen only slightly fewer science fiction movies than the next guy, but he knew that access to an electrical system often meant power to escape, especially if you had a tech-savvy scientist on your side. Looking around, Kyle realized that he was such a person. Now, he just needed a reason to justify the escape. He thought back to Lt. Ferdinand springing them from the hospital, and to the orders that they "report to the brig." Well, they had certainly reported, and the guards outside had already left. Perhaps it was a test - a team-building exercise?

Kyle reasoned that the commander would have been - or should have been - more specific in his orders, or at least specified a duration for their confinement, if he intended to hold them there for an extended period. He got to work on the control panel almost immediately. It wasn't particularly complicated; the few wires there controlled power to the cell. Unlike science fiction, you couldn't "cut power" to the door to make it open, but you could cut other things - like life support!

Air ceased to flow through the vents into the cell, and Kyle noticed a red light come on outside the cell. Kyle knew that the cell door would open soon - or at least he hoped it would. Cells should have some sort of automatic safety mechanism that would allow the prisoners a chance to live, in case of a life support system failure. He was sure that he'd read that in some ship manual or another; hopefully, Orange Base had adopted a similar system. Hopefully.

Nobody had noticed that the air to their cell had been cut off, and he hoped that nobody would, before the door opened. Just to be safe, he edged away from the control panel. Some of the first signs of suffocation would be shortness of breath and light-headedness, which the rest of the detainees might explain away as a result of being in close-quarters with everyone else. The first person to drop unconscious might be interpreted as a claustrophobe, but the next few would surely start a panic, and if there weren't any guards outside...

Kyle began inching back toward the control panel. He could fix what he'd broken with little trouble. The plan wasn't worth the risk, and he knew that he was going against the spirit of Lt. Ferdinand's orders, even if following the letter. But, before he reached it, the door sprung open, and cool, fresh air burst in. It was magical.

"Well, looks like Lt. Ferdinand had a change of heart," someone near the door said, as they walked out. A few of the bolder pilots followed the first, and after they met with no resistance, most of the rest followed. Kyle left in the middle of the pack, confident that no one would be able to pin the escape on him. He made a note to write a note to maintenance, notifying them about the exposed electrical panel - anonymously, of course. Breathing the fresh air, Kyle broke into a fast walk, then a slow jog, and finally, a run. Perhaps he'd encounter Karol Ryder in the hangar. It was as good a place as any to start looking.

"Now or Never" was the Korps Commandotroepen's motto. It was kinda like Carpe Diem, but less Latin. In any case, Kyle felt that he was doing a good job of living it out. Tybalt and Madelaine - especially Tybalt - would have approved.