Captain's Quarters, Teppoyuri, 115.3.27 - Checking In

Morwen spoke quietly as the holocomm connected. “Hi, Mom.”

Mirelle’s face appeared on the projector in front of her, smiling. “Hello, dear. How are you holding up?"

“I'm fine, I think. Very tired.” 

“You look it,” her mother responded, eyes flicking from one part of her daughter's face to another. “How are things up there?” 

“Tense. Everyone's wishing they would lift the no-fly restrictions so we could get down there already.” 

“Your project is going well, then?” 

Morwen took a small breath, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. We've almost got two Charons' worth of supplies so far. And that convoy from Ishukone arrived in one piece.” 

“That's quite a lot. You must be pleased.” 

Morwen nodded again, a little more energetically. “Yeah. The leader of the convoy even said he would accept the supplies when it's time to take things to the surface. I'm surprised by how eager people were to donate, and how quickly and how much. It's nice to see other capsuleers displaying more than just a shred of humanity once in a while.” 

“... But?” Mirelle looked at her expectantly. 

“... But I'm worried it won't be enough.” Morwen sighed heavily. “Mom, the place is in such a mess I can't even begin to describe it. How could even ten or a hundred times the amount we have now be enough for these people?” 

“The people who live there are strong, dear. Every one of them. They will work hard, they will rebuild and they will survive. You are helping them get back onto their feet that much faster, and you should be proud of yourself for doing that, and of everyone else who is chipping in to help you. You've even got the direct attention of people in Ishukone, sweetie, I know how happy that must make you after all these years.” 

“I guess so.” Morwen sighed again, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I'm, um... sorry about not spending your birthday with you. Things have been so busy I forgot to get you something.” 

Mirelle smiled and waved dismissively. “Don't apologize for that. You made the right choice, sweetie. You know your father would be so proud of you right now.” 

Morwen's expression darkened. “I think he'd have been happier if I'd been able to put a few hundred salvos of antimatter charges into the Shiigeru like I'd planned on doing, Mom.” 

“No, Morwen, he wouldn't.” Mirelle picked up a steaming mug and took a sip from it, then continued. “You did exactly what we taught you to do. Given the choice between causing harm and helping protect people from harm, you chose to help people who really, truly needed you.” 

“That wasn't my choice, Mom. I wanted to get out there and fight, I really did. The station docking controllers wouldn't queue me for departure.” 

Mirelle chided her gently. “But instead of trying over and over, you gave up and did something else to help.” 

“That's not the point, Mom!” 

“Then what is?” 

“I wanted to go out there and fight. I wanted to shoot that thing out of the sky. I would have if they had just put me in the damn undocking queue! I didn't want to be stuck on the station sitting on my ass!” 

“So?” Mirelle briefly eyed her daughter’s fists, which had become clenched during her frustrated outburst. “Dear, you didn't fight with them when they told you you couldn't. You found another way to help. And then I hear you did even more later that night, working to get people off the surface, away from the fighting.” 

“... Yes, I did. Most of them are still here on the station. Naoko's crew is taking care of them. I've ... gone and hung around, to help out. Between dealing with donations.” 

“How are they doing?” 

“Most are out of critical condition at this point. Everyone wants to go back home. It feels horrible, not being able to tell them when they’ll be able to do that.” 

Morwen went silent, tears starting to well in her eyes. Mirelle frowned slightly. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, dear?” 

“No, Mom. No, I'm not. I can't stop worrying about whether I'm doing enough to help these people, if there isn't more I can do. I hate this. I hate the fighting, I want it to stop. It's why I changed my mind about joining the FDU after I graduated from the training program. I just saw senseless death and pain and suffering and didn't want to be part of it.” 

Mirelle remained quiet, listening to her daughter vent. 

“But as much as I hated it then, I still wasn't any better myself. And the sick part is I’m still proud of the places I went and who I was able to fly with. Even the two years as a pirate.” 

“Well, you know full well your father and I didn't care. You're our daughter and we love you unconditionally. I'm sure your lovely partner feels the same way, and there are several other wonderful people I've met here who I know love you very dearly as well.” 

Morwen took a deep breath, then exhaled quietly, wiping her eyes. “Sorry, Mom. Thanks. I just... I think I need to go lie down for a bit.” 

“Go right ahead. I won't keep you.” Mirelle paused, then as Morwen reached over to turn off the camera drone, she spoke up again. “And Morwen, dear...” 

“Yeah?” 

“You did give me a birthday present, sweetie, one of the best I could have asked for. I am so happy for you both, you know that, right?” 

Morwen sat there for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah.” 

“Knowing you are happy, doing things that make you happy, with someone who makes you happy, that is all the present I need.” 

Morwen cracked a small smile, wiping tears from her cheeks. “Thanks, Mom. I just... I wish Dad had been there.” 

Mirelle smiled gently. “I know you do, dear. Wherever he is, he feels just the same as I do.” 

Morwen nodded. 

“Some grandkids wouldn't hurt, mind,” Mirelle added with a playful wink. “When you get around to it, of course.” 

Morwen laughed a little, then with a small sniffle reached over to turn off the camera. 

“Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, dear. Rest well.”

Tyrathlion Family Estates: 24.11.113 - Time to Talk

"We need to talk."

Nobody said anything else for a moment, as if they were waiting for the words to echo in the room, to remind them that yes, someone had actually spoken those words. Given the sorts of uncomfortable discussions and subjects that usually followed them, as well as the potential fallout, this response was to be expected.

Reppy looked at her briefly, before returning her gaze to the book she had open and giving a slightly moody-sounding response. "About what?" she asked, as if she knew exactly what the answer would be.

"You," Morwen said softly, uncomfortably shifting her weight from one foot to another as she stood in the doorway to the library's study room. "Something's been bugging you lately. I can tell."

Reppy let out a quiet, noncommittal grunt, turning the page of her book as if she were done with the conversation already. Morwen sighed, then walked over and gently pried the book from Reppy's hands, setting it down on a nearby table before settling down onto her lap sideways, legs hanging over one of the armrests. "Don't give me that look," she said as she tried to make herself comfortable. "We promised we wouldn't hide things like this from each other."

"I don't want to talk about it," Reppy said quietly, tone firm. She looked away from Morwen, towards the study's fireplace, the light flickering in her eyes.

Morwen frowned. "Sweety, I just spent a lot of money renewing your license for you after you told me two weeks ago that spending some time flying again would fix things up for you. I really don't mind spending ridiculous amounts of money on things you want, but please don't lie to me - or yourself - about what you want and need, because it clearly hasn't helped enough, if at all, to have been that simple. I'm not the only person who's noticed you've been having a down spell lately, either," she added.

Reppy looked back at her uncomfortably, waiting.

"Saki and Leela are both concerned about you," Morwen explained. She paused for a moment, then continued. "So is my mother. I know she wrote to you after she got home. She told me." She reached over and took Reppy's hands, squeezing gently. "She really likes you, Reppy. And not just because I do."

Reppy responded after a moment, her voice hesitant. "She wouldn't if she knew."

"Knew what?"

"How things started."

Morwen frowned again. "It wouldn't change anything, and you know that."

The reply came back with a suspicious, half-distrustful expression. "How can you know that for certain?"

"This is my mother we're talking about, Reppy. She's more tolerant than I am." Morwen sighed. "Almost to a fault, given some things she's been poking and prodding me to think about doing."

Reppy wrinkled her nose a little, knowing exactly what the so-called things were. "If you say so," she muttered, leaning back in the chair and saying nothing further. Morwen sighed gently, then reached one hand up to stroke Reppy's cheek gently with her thumb, silently tracing the red markings that were all that visibly remained of Cruoris. Reppy closed her eyes, relaxing under the touch. Both of them seemed content to stay like that for a while; by the time Morwen decided to try again, she'd lost track of how long they'd been sitting there.

"Please talk to me, Reppy," Morwen asked quietly. "Tell me what's wrong, and let me help make it better."

Reppy remained silent for a moment, then opened her eyes and nodded slowly.

"Okay."

Fragments of Memories: 14.11.112

Darkness.

Then there's light, and a floating sensation. Holding tight to someone who is clutching back even tighter. Awkward movements from both, trying to move into a more comfortable position without losing grip of the other and floating off in opposite directions Success eventually, followed by soft giggling. Soft lips pressed against hers, then --

-- warm, flickering light from a fire. Softness of a fur rug beneath her side, two arms snugly wrapped around her. Quiet words whispered in her ear, a small smile forming on her face. Something moves into view out in the corner of her eye --

-- flash of a knife against her arm, a trickle of blood. It stings for a brief moment, but doesn't hurt; oddly, the predatory smile coming from the woman sitting on her lap feels somehow... comforting. Then she grins and moves in close --

-- the cool sensation of metal around one of her fingers, a hand gripping her wrist warmly as the object slides back from the tip of her finger - a gold-and-silver ring. A smile from the owner of the gripping hand, before she pushes her back against the sofa with a long kiss. Again, something visible in the corner of her eye, a person maybe --

-- running water. Back up against a wall, pinned there by something warm. A face obscured by a black mat of wet hair. Brush it out of the way with a hand, find a pair of brown eyes staring back. Can almost see her own reflection. A hand gently grips hers --

-- a carefully-crafted necklace of sapphires and rubies hangs in trembling hands, the jewels glittering as they move in the light. Her vision is slightly blurry - tears, perhaps - and her attempts to put the necklace around her neck are made difficult by her shaking fingers. A pair of helping hands assists, then wipes the tears away. Once more, something - clearly a someone - out of the corner of her eye is visible; black hair and silvery eyes with pale skin, their mouth moving slightly without making any sound. By the time she reacts and moves her eyes to get a better look, those brown eyes are too close for her to see anything but her own reflection again --

-- a small cutting sensation on her chest. Red facial markings glow back at her, as the woman perched on her lap carefully moves a small blade against her skin. A small diamond pendant, previously transparent, now shines a bright scarlet. The woman gives the pendant an appraising look, then fastens it around her neck. A familiar predatory smile before she leans closer, eyes alight --

-- curled up in a warm bath, soft giggles and quiet whispers; a gentle swat to the nose and a nip at the ear --

-- spoonfuls of homemade soup from a steaming bowl, a content and loving smile; there's that other person again in the background --

-- sitting on the couch, snugly curled up under a blanket while laughing at the absurdity of a holoreel --

-- arms wrapped around her middle, holding tight --

-- those brown eyes again; a playful glimmer visible in them before she's grabbed by the chin and pulled close, the words on the tip of her tongue silenced by a hungry kiss --

-- and then it's dark again.

No...

Morwen. That's enough. No more.

No, no, no, I want to go back...

I said that's enough, Morwen. You've been in here for nearly a week. I'm not letting you hide in here any longer.

But I'm happy there... send me back... please...

No.

Please...

I said no. Time to come back to the real world, Morwen.

I don't want to!

And I don't care. It's time to wake up.

No, no, no, no...

She becomes aware of a rushing sound as the capsule starts returning control to her own senses. Seconds later, dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, she coughs and sputters as her lungs try to clear the remaining pod fluid from her respiratory system before she curls up into a ball where she is, sobbing.

I want to go back...

No. You need to clean out your system and get out into the real world, with real people. You're not doing yourself or your crew any favors by being in this state. You are going to get up, you are going to wash up, and you are going to go out and interact with people. I don't care where you go, but I will make sure that you do go somewhere, forcibly if I must.

I don't want to... I want to go back inside...

Most certainly not. When she asked me to take care of you, it didn't include letting you stew in a narcotic-induced haze in your pod for a week.

You set it up for me...

Yes, I did, and I'm starting to regret that decision. Count yourself lucky that nobody outside of myself, the CMO and your capsule technicians know about it, because it could get your ass thrown out of corp if people knew you were flying under the influence. We don't even know what side effects this might have yet to cause for you. Get up. Now.

She stays there for several minutes, still sobbing, before she tries sitting up, hugging her knees close.

A good start. Let's go. It's not far. We can go to the Keep or the Piano if you'd like.

I don't want to go out...

Morwen, do you think she would want you to be like this?

She sits there silently.

No...

Then let's go. I don't have time for your moping, and honestly neither do you. She needs this... let her try and fix herself.

I need her...

I know you do, but she needs this right now. You need to be patient... things will hopefully get better and fix themselves at some point.

A small nod, and a sniffle.

Now, let's go and get you washed up. You're a mess.

Another small nod, and she cautiously climbs to her feet, one hand resting against a wall for balance.

One step at a time. Maybe having to learn how to walk again will save me the trouble of having to convince you not to do this again myself.

Wobbly steps forward.

Shut up... not funny.

Once you're sitting down with other people, I'll let you be for a bit, but you are my priority right now, okay?

A few more steps forward, then she closes her eyes, nodding as she walks. Those words she understood.

Vey System, Central Placid, 1.4.112 - Longshot

A faint, barely noticeable tingle ran along her extremities as she carefully scoured feedback from her ship's sensors. Faint signals from combat drones and wrecked vessels in space, stronger, more detailed pings from starbase emplacements... all of that she ignored as she scanned through the list on the display floating in the orange-colored liquid in front of her face. Then something caught her eye.

A battleship. Hyperion-class. A Gallente-designed vessel that was, in almost every way, the perfect catch.

She silently instructed the crew handling the scanner to start narrowing down the general direction the Hyperion was in, bringing up a display of the list of locally active transponders. One name stood out in particular -- it matched the name associated with the Hyperion, according to the scanner. She focused her gaze on the name, and a DED record appeared, floating in front of everything else.

The pilot's capsuleer license had been issued in early November. He'd spent a month with one capsuleer outfit, three working with the Scope, and had been working for his current employer for just shy of four weeks. The scanner's display flashed slightly, and she glanced at it, the DED record fading away. Several heavy combat drones had been detected with the battleship; four second-generation Ogres.

Morwen twitched a finger, and the visuals from the camera drones shifted to a three-dimensional map of the solar system. Icons dotted the space in front of her, indicating planets and other various celestial objects. Several icons glowed brighter than the rest; each illuminating a spherical region of the map. She willed them to move, carefully adjusting their position, then patiently waiting as they flashed and went back to their original state, revealing a number of new icons.

She repeated the process several times, focusing on one set of icons as they slowly shifted in color from red to yellow to green. Morwen grinned faintly to herself and willed the camera drones' feed to come back, sending along the message for the crew to get ready for combat. A nudge, and the ship was in warp.

It was a long hop across the system; and along the way, Morwen sifted through a number of possible engagement scenarios. She winced slightly, remembering the trouble that those particular drones had given her last time she'd run into them. The memory was less than pleasant, and quite painful. Gritting her teeth slightly, she settled on the simplest engagement plan.

Morwen felt a barely noticeable jolt as the ship exited warp in the middle of a Hyasyoda Corporation mining site, about twenty kilometers from the Hyperion. The slow, lumbering hulk of a battleship was moving towards a small cluster of docking platforms, and with a gentle push, Morwen allowed her ship to follow.

The proximity meter ticked down as her ship moved closer and closer. Morwen's eyes flicked almost lazily across the various feeds of information running past her, and focused on the looming target in front of her. Then the proximity meter beeped once more. She was within range.

The faint tingling sensation disappeared as she deactivated the cloaking device and her legs tensed as she sent the order to engage the afterburners; the red-and-gold form of a Pilgrim hull wavered into the view of the camera drones, the silver letters glimmering along the bow, giving its name: Nazara. A few seconds passed, and as the smaller cruiser lurched forward, the slothlike Hyperion slowly began to turn in an attempt to escape.

It was, however, seconds too late; as Morwen's mind and body gave the orders, her crew obeyed, and the Hyperion's already-slow movements ground to a near-halt as its navigation computer shut down and its engines sparked and sputtered. A hollow, empty feeling grew within Morwen's stomach as streams of energy arced out from the emitters on the Pilgrim's hull to the battleship. It was uncomfortable, yes, but not unbearable.

Scant seconds after the Pilgrim's drone bay doors opened and a flight of Hammerhead drones sped towards the Hyperion, Morwen felt a sharp stabbing sensation in her side; a glance towards the battleship showed that the pilot had instructed his crew to start shooting back. A moment later, there were the four Ogres, pouring out of the ship's drone bay and heading back towards the small red-and-gold cruiser.

Morwen instructed the Hammerheads under her control to regroup and engage the Ogres as they ripped through the Pilgrim's shields and began slagging away at its armor plating, the charged antimatter packets leaving a dark scorch mark across the lettering across the cruiser's bow as nanites flowed from the automated systems to repair the damage.

Though it only took a minute and a half, it felt like much more as the Hammerheads bore down on the heavier Ogres and tore through them like a swarm of carnivorous insects. Once the heavy attack drones were gone, the smaller Hammerheads went back to work -- the Hyperion's capacitor at this point was beginning to run dry, its own local repair systems were no longer active, and the railguns were no longer firing. For all intents and purposes, it was dead in the water.

Morwen smirked a bit as she opened a communications channel with the pilot, instructing her crew to maintain a close orbit around the crippled vessel.

I'm screwed, aren't I?
Not necessarily, Pilot. 
What do you want?
I will allow you and your crew to leave for a fee amounting to a hundred and thirty million ISK.
Hrm... can't I finish off this contract job first?
I can't quite trust you to do that, now can I?
I only have to remove those two Hyasyoda ships over there. That's all. I won't shoot you; I've got the money.
If I see my wallet indicator flash with a hundred and thirty million ISK, I'll allow you to finish it with your ship and crew intact. Otherwise, my drones will just keep chewing, and well, they're hungry...
... Fine.
I'll disengage when I see transfer has been completed.
Er... I  actually don't quite have that much; I only have one-twenty. Want to give me a break?
That will suffice.
Paid.
Pleasure doing business with you, pilot. Fly safely, now.
Er... Thanks...


Morwen's smirk widened into a grin as she closed the communications channel and recalled the Hammerheads to their berths in the Nazara. A gentle nudge, and the cruiser veered off, turning away from the crippled, but recovering, Hyperion. The familiar tingle from earlier returned as Morwen reactivated the cloaking device and issued the order to engage the warp drive, the Pilgrim vanishing from sight just as silently as it had appeared.

She closed her eyes and relaxed a little, smile lingering on her face. It had been a long shot, but it'd paid off in the end. The crew would certainly be getting a well-deserved rest that night, once they'd returned to Goinard.