2023-08-07: Mechanical Memory
- Cast: Zoltan Akkanen, Rita Bernal
- Where: The Secret Lab
- Date: U.C. 0097 08 07
- Summary: Rita has decreed it is time for Zoltan to learn how to bond with the Phenex. Though he accepts the challenge, the NT-D is a little more than Zoltan bargained for...
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
"Zoltan." Rita calls. "Zoltan. It's time. We can't put this off any longer. With how quickly things are accelerating, you must learn to bond with the Phenex."
A slight pause. The holographic version of Rita Bernal is, today, dressed in a simple white dress with an interesting geometric pattern across it in blues and greens.
"Now, right now."
There is no room for argument in her words. Ever since the group meeting, Rita has either been entirely absent (physically, at least), or nervously hovering around the Phenex. There's so much to be done. So much she has to be ready for.
Should Zoltan follow her, Rita will lead him to the Phenex, which has taken a kneeling pose, making the cockpit accessible. Rita's hard-light image climbs up (really, she's just floating, but making it look realistic) and stands directly between Zoltan and the still-sealed cockpit.
"Only one other person has been in here since I died." Rita's eyes search Zoltan's face, looking for any sign of betrayal. "Please do your best, Zoltan."
Rita raises a hand. The Phenex's cockpit opens, and slowly, lights flicker on within. With light steps, the Heart of the Phenex enters, standing just beside the pilot's chair. Everything is as one might expect the interior of an RX-0 unit to be. Bleeding-edge modernity, familiar-enough controls, and the NT-D system looming above.
If Zoltan were to truly look for oddities, he will find two. Mag-locked beneath the pilot's chair is the canister Koji made to protect Rita's ashes. Hovering just above the controls is... a diamond-shaped piece of silver, hanging from a necklace.
"Are you ready?" She asks. "We can turn on simulation mode. But first, familiarize yourself with how she feels, and her controls."
<Pose Tracker> Zoltan Akkanen has posed.
There's a distinct sense of being jolted out of something; A stupor, a mildly hellish eternal treadmill of waiting for things to change as the world changed around him. Mumbling to himself about this and that, doing his best to occupy his time and to figure out the tanks, the location of Denver Colony, and where the Sleeves might try and intrude. There isn't much that isn't obvious; Even with all the markings he made, it's obvious that he was never in the real thick of strategy discussions. Commander? ...Don't ask.
"Fine, fine! Better than watching the sunset..." And hearing her pontificate about the seagulls around this place. What was it with her and birds?
He's still in his uniform, something worth being around in when the situation was so desperate and quick-moving. Best to be /slightly/ prepared in case he got shot down. (It was to better identify bodies. Space is rough on flesh, alive or dead.)
Following along, casting a gaze at that golden behemoth that had cast such a shadow on his life. So frustrating. So...What was the word. Mollifying? No. "One other? I'm surprised you'd trust /anyone/ else inside." Current company non-permitting.
That being said, he clambers up the kneeling suit, as expert as ever on getting himself into a cockpit. Casting a few quick glances inside to check for any traps (or suspicious people; Come on, he's entering into the Phenex's cockpit) before glancing over at Rita. A final nod before stepping inside. "They're really giving everyone the NT-D system these days. Idiot scientists who don't know better playing god."
As "graceful" as he was about entering, there's zero hesitation to toss himself onto the seat of the cockpit, immediately feeling himself out. A reach down to adjust leg space, a reach up to start tweaking the cockpit controls to his own liking. Quite necessary for when (not if) the NT-D system was activated; It'd do no one well to have a crushed nose.
One swift check later, spotting the canister and merely prodding at it, nodding in understanding. "Nothing to sneeze at." The necklace is barely noted at first, eyes drawn back to it after the initial adjustments. "...So? What's your story for this?" A thumb jerked at the silver piece, courteous enough to not just toss it out.
Whatever the answer, he started busying himself with the controls. Jerking them about haphazardly, swinging them from one extreme to the other. Right, so this is how it functions; This is the wide, this is the narrow, this is how petals work. Deadzones, angles, here and there...There's a few adjustments he can make, but all the hydraulics in the world can't make up for mechanical wear.
"Boot it up."
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
Zoltan's uniform makes Rita frown, slightly, every time she sees it. He looks so much more like the Monster she grew up with when he's dressed this way. But if it makes him more comfortable...
It's okay.
"I didn't have a choice. After the battle at Palau, we fell to the Earth. The Phenex was so badly damaged I couldn't reach her anymore. A Psychoframe-remnant of myself took over for a time." Rita doesn't mention what happened to the remnant.
How would you even put a trap in a mobile suit, Zoltan? Rita waits patiently, watching him make adjustments.
It's okay.
He's taller than she is, it's important to align the seat. All the same, a sense of creeping unease squirms in Rita's heart. Having someone in here so casually...
"There have only been three true NT-D systems made." Rita insists. "And one abomination half-copy. Humanity isn't ready for Psychoframes. Their existence is only going to inspire fear and hatred toward people like us."
Rita flinches at the tap to the canister. "Be careful--!"
It's okay.
"If my ashes are lost, I don't know what will happen to me." Rita murmurs. Zoltan at least has the sense not to fuss with the small container, and all remains in place. As for the necklace, Rita smiles in that sweet, sad way she so often does.
"This is one-third of a necklace that belonged to Jona's father. It was taken from him and broken by bullies, when we were small." With a gesture, she pulls the fragment in toward herself. "I fashioned it into three necklaces, to keep us together no matter what. I don't know if Michele and Jona still have theirs, but I've managed to keep this one through everything."
Rita clasps her hands around the necklace, placing it in a storage compartment within the Phenex. It'll be safe there for now.
Thankfully, the Phenex has been flown properly all of /once/. There is absolutely no mechanical wear to speak of, not here in the interior of the machine. Rita gives Zoltan a nod, and raises her hand.
The Phenex comes to life.
She stands, her cockpit closing, and takes a neutral pose. With the NT-D inactive, there is not much of a presence to pick up on, merely the hint of one. Something that /could/ be more. A sigh of curiosity toward Zoltan, perhaps.
"I'm sure you've used simulation programs before. I'm going to make it a little more real." Rita reaches out a hand to Zoltan's shoulder, hovering just shy of making physical contact. "Is that okay?"
It's all pretend, really. Rita's spirit is within the Phenex, her holographic body is meaningless here. She could use the power of the Psychoframe to force whatever visions she wished upon Zoltan without ever brushing against his uniform. But she won't. Zoltan deserves to have a choice.
As Rita waits for an answer, the Phenex's OS boots up. Cameras come to life in a fantastic 360 degree view, displaying the hangar all around them. Menus are navigated through with only the barest hint of attention from Rita. Soon enough, the dingy view of the Secret Lab has been replaced with the glory of space.
Federation ships and mobile suits surround the Phenex. None are hostile, but should Zoltan allow Rita to imprint her memories over the simulation, Zoltan will realize this is a hostage situation. The Phenex is kept on a short leash by her handlers.
<"RX-0 Unicorn Gundam 03 Phenex,"> A placid female voice recites. <"Please begin operations. Take it to half power.">
The surrounding mobile suits spread out slightly to give the Phenex room to operate. Rita can't help but laugh at the operator. "As if they could keep up with her at even a third of her maximum speed." She grows more serious. "This was the one time I piloted the Phenex while I was alive. If you're okay with it, we'll go through basic tests, and then they'll ask to activate the NT-D."
"I'll be here easing the burden of the NT-D, but you will still feel it." Rita says, quietly. "We're going to need it to fight the Neo Zeong II. We can take it slowly, but once the system is activated, it /will/ try and consume you. The NT-D is designed to make Newtypes into a biological component of the Gundam. The Phenex can't help it."
Rita lowers her gaze to the controls. The simulation has halted, not moving forward until Zoltan takes action. "It's just the way they made her. Just like us."
<Pose Tracker> Zoltan Akkanen has posed.
He can't help that he's been wearing this thing for years. What sort of SLeeves person wears casual clothing, anyways? Not that he can recall, what with everyone being either stuffy or trying to not be the odd one out. Maybe it was partially his fault. Who cared?
"...Right." The wisest choice would be to not think about the...Psycho-remnant, whatever that was. "So there's a ghost in here, too?" Damn.
Still, only three NT-D systems, and his own suit was more of the psycho-shard generator variety with the Neo Zeong. Strange things, that. "Will they ever be? Bastards can't even unite over having Axis tossed at their heads, so you think they'll stop if they can connect like this?" A question more to himself than anything. What was this worth, exactly? Why go along with this?
"...You don't know if Michele has it?" He allows the question to hang for a moment. See the obvious. See the obvious implied question of someone who had just seen the person in question /yesterday/. "I pegged you for an idiot, but that's another level entirely. What, scared she'll say no, kid?" He waves off the necklace, making sure to note its location. If nothing else, he could toss it at Jona or Michele afterwards. Break the ice.
Tests: Good. Gears: Good. Pedals: Adjusted. Headspace: Properly checked. Vomitorium evac: As pristine as it should be. Nothing to it. "Ready. Mechanical check passes."
And he sits back, hands on the levers as he mentally braced himself. Watching the cockpit close in front of him, breath hitching for a moment as the space plunged to dark. In. Out. Breathe. The dull black of powered on monitors, a finger tapping on one of the handles.
"Haa..." He's still on guard, as with everything related to Rita's presence. The minor scratches of his mind, noting the familiarity of the leash, the little length allowed in his early days. A failure to the last, destined to just be tossed around like a dog. "The same way, huh..." Under his breath.
"Still, hostages? They had you working the hard stuff already." Hostage situations are always delicate; People tend to turn snappy when they thought they could kill for an advantage. Regardless.
The slow motion of boosters, the jets at the Phenex's calves experimentally flexing before boosting off at a slow start. Arms swinging wide, each and every servo put through its paces. Twirling in space, the motions of someone with training behind the wheel...But not enough coordination to be considered a true natural at it.
"Che. Like this, then? Damn thing is priceless for some collector. You sure you can't just enlist some Feddie billionare to say that Jona did a bad thing?"
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
"Oh, no. Once the Phenex was repaired, I got rid of her so I could have the Psychoframe to myself. Splitting into pieces like that is how you lose yourself to the NT-D." Rita says, with the tone one might discuss swatting a fly.
Rita shakes her head. "No. They won't be ready for hundreds of years, at this pace. As long as souls remain shackled to human bodies, we won't be able to understand each other."
"Yes." Rita answers, honestly, of her fear of Michele not having her third of the necklace anymore. "After nearly two decades, what if their connection to me faded away? Is that why Jona is so angry?" A pause. "And, we're almost the same age. I am not a child."
Zoltan is ready. Rita is ready. Her hand makes contact with his shoulder, and her experiences flood into Zoltan's heart. Sharing openly, nothing is held back. He has to understand. He has to know the fire the Phenex was born in.
Weariness comes first.
Like a great weight on his shoulders, Zoltan feels the (perhaps familiar) sensation of a life lived without comfort or hope. Having been passed from lab to lab for the majority of her life, Rita has been ground down to almost nothing: body, mind, and soul.
Next comes an undefined amalgamation of sorrow, fear, and desperation.
As the Phenex clumsily soars through space, Zoltan feels Rita's echoed memory. She thought of her family, long dead. She thought of the children in the laboratories they were all kept in. She thought of Shelby, and Yuliana. Images of birds. She would've liked to hold a bird in her hands at least once.
And what if this goes wrong? So much has to fall into place for the vision Rita saw to come to pass. What if all this suffering was for nothing? It's hard to breathe. Terror shuts her mind down, breaths coming in gasps that threaten to fog her helmet. No. She can't think that way. She had the visions for a reason.
Every second that ticks by is a second she will never have again. A breath she will never take again. How many heartbeats until the end? How much is it going to hurt? How long will she be bound to the Phenex, unable to live or die?
Finally, the one thing that steels Rita's soul and allows her to press onward: belief.
Fervent beyond words, Rita /believes/ in her purpose, clinging to it, cherishing and fearing it in equal measure. Eighteen years passed with this one thread to hold onto, and over time, she's made it into a steel cable. There is no doubt. There is no fear. There is no exhaustion. Only this one, pure, true belief: that if she walks the path, she will save the people she loves.
"Yes." Rita says, softly, to Zoltan. "They never went easy on me, once they found out I was the true Miracle Child. But you understand that."
Zoltan is doing well. Rita squeezes his shoulder gently, in what she hopes is an encouraging way. "You're picking it up quickly. Try easing up on the thrusters just a bit. They're overtuned, you have to learn their capability slowly."
<"RX-0 Unicorn Gundam 03 Phenex,"> Again the woman. Does she know what has been done to the pilot she so calmly speaks to? <"All initial tests are acceptable. Activate the NT-D.">
"We have Michele for that. But even her influence won't be enough. I'm doing all I can to disguise the fact that Jona is in the Neo Zeong II."
Again, the simulation 'pauses' around them. "Are you ready, Zoltan? It's okay if you want to continue learning in Unicorn mode for a while longer. I can bring up a different simulation."
What comes next will irreparably change both of them. Is it so wrong to want to put it off a little more?
<Pose Tracker> Zoltan Akkanen has posed.
There's a look of brazen curiosity, a riased eyebrow at the thought of splitting oneself into mental pieces. ...Maybe it was stranger than he'll ever know, even with the Cyber-Newtype training engraved into him.
"Could've fooled me." And that was that. It's hard to think about such things as age when one was a ghost and the other was a Cyber-Newtype trauma-riddle mess.
He slowly lets himself go, bit by bit by hesitant bit as he marinated in the Phenex's cockpit. The sensations of something crawling inside his head, of hearing those phantom thoughts that were nothing more than hallucinations. Char's thoughts always in his mind. This was how he did this. This was how he did that. It came as natural as breathing, a minor noise that's tuned to Zoltan's instincts verberating throughout the Psychoframe.
Even the motions of moving in a Gundam sent the phantom whispering threads of Char around in his head. Truly, this was what Gundam was capable of after so long? Humanity had its folly.
A familiar sensation of weariness. Hope? In this environment? Sorrow. Fear. Desperation. Mingling in his own mind, breath stopping for a moment. That feeling is countered by resignation. Humanity had already fought. It had its chance. It deserved to burn, didn't it?
Furhter into the miasma of the soul, the core of everything. Belief? Her? It made sense; The core thread of everything. Stepping forward because of belief in...What? That she saves two people? That's it? It's so infestisminally small. Humanity was a grand thing to conceputalize. Two people.
...All this for two people. It'd be ridiculous if he wasn't aware of just how much power those damn bureaucrats loved potificating over The Red Comet in a state of false deification.
"Fine." Letting up on those boosters. Angling himself to look around, to take note of how the display showed everything. Piecemeal. Rote. Was this ever modified? Ever tweaked for the pilot at hand?
"Do it." Unicorn Mode was like any other Mobile Suit. It had two legs. It had two arms. It had the shields that acted akin to fin funnels. Weapons were weapons.
He's still holding his breath once the confirmation goes through.
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
Rita huffs. She's 24, you know, Zoltan! But that is hardly important now, in the precious moments they have to practice with the Phenex. Zoltan's hesitation and distress are palpable, and as Rita offers up her own heart, Zoltan's can't help but resonate in response.
Miraculous green eyes flicker closed, allowing Zoltan's experiences to wash over her. The Red Comet's presence is so heavily felt. Always present, always influential. Rita, at least, was allowed the privacy of her own mind.
"It must be so tiring." Rita murmurs. "Having to sort between his thoughts and your own. If you want me to, Zoltan, I will try to purge his influence. I don't know what that would do to you. But I'll try, if you want me to."
The NT-D is designed to take its pilot's most aggressive emotions and loop them back into their soul, again and again. It was enough even to overwhelm Rita, and the Unicorn's loss of control in Torrington is infamous. It's only natural that Char would stir here, in the midst of the type of machine he must hate the most.
"This world isn't worth saving." Rita offers, squeezing Zoltan's shoulder again. "But it's the place where the people I love exist. Because of that, I will never give up."
The Phenex was designed for Rita, just as she was molded for the Gundam over the many long years of experimentation. Nothing here is added for Rita's comfort. But things are adjusted to be within her reach. There is no chance of failure.
"Alright." Rita hesitates, then lifts her hand from Zoltan's shoulder. Tapping his nearest hand with one finger, then, if she isn't rejected, she will knit their hands together. "It's going to hurt. But pain is only a temporary emotion. I'll take half the burden."
"Phenex." Rita whispers, evenly. "We're ready."
A dozen needles pierce through Zoltan's uniform, injecting a mysterious concoction designed to keep the Phenex's pilot conscious at intense G-forces. The controls fall away from Zoltan's grasp. The chair slides back. As a screen bearing the letters 'NT-D' aligns in front of Zoltan's face, metal arms unfold from the mobile suit's interior, spidering across his head until they settle in place.
Physical sensation fades away. Zoltan's consciousness, his awareness, his sense of self... grows. Expands. The Phenex's body is his own. Zoltan's thoughts are the Phenex's. Zoltan can feel every living presence on the island they're sheltered on -- Michele and Brick, but the birds, the fish, the tiny crab-creatures...
And then the aggression builds. Any spark of anger or resentment Zoltan is currently feeling builds, placed in the endless loop of the NT-D, building, building, building. Just before it becomes too much to bear--
Blue light washes over the cockpit. The strain lessens, greatly. It's still something that must be actively controlled and fought against, but the difference between a singular soul fighting against the torrent and two souls united is an unreal amount.
"I've got you." Rita's voice echoes in Zoltan's ears, in his soul. "Zoltan Akkanen."
And though she knew the burden would be reduced by half, Rita never expected things to ease for /her/, as well. It's incredible, the way the pressure is reduced. Her spirit relaxes, and the blue light illuminating the holographic woman spreads to Zoltan, haloing his form entirely in Rita's grace.
"I didn't think it'd be so much easier..." Rita laughs breathlessly. Reckless, euphoric joy bubbles up in Rita's heart. "Let's go flying, really flying. We can go anywhere we want to. No one can catch us like this."
<Pose Tracker> Zoltan Akkanen has posed.
The subtle twitches of a practiced form as he tries to relax with the sensation of the Psychoframe. Easy. The sensation of Rita is a less easy thing to acclimate to; His spirit had already been burned once before by her. It's hard to take a hand that had basically doused you in gasoline and tossed a lit match.
Regardless, the Red Comet's influence is something that refuses to dissapate. Less an infection on the surface, and more of an innate imprint on his soul; tunnels underneath the mental surface, digging, surviving, a perverse symbiosis that every Cyber-Newtype in the experiment was forced to endure. "That'd probably kill me, you know. I saw some of the intentions. Unless you're an expert on lobotomies, I'd rather not."
...Not worth saving? "Glad we agree." This world deserves to experience an Axis Shock. Multiple. After everything, they can't...bond together. They can't /see/ the obvious. If they can't see the obvious people around them, why should humanity keep walking forward if they can't see their own two feet? "You can't just agree a world's worth staying in because of two people." Lunacy. Be utilitarian, damn it. He could assuage his own concerns if you were just so brazenly /dismissive/...
"Thanks for the warning." The scientists never said as such. And when they did? ...They were understating it. The obvious click of the tongue; Of course he didn't believe that whatever pain level would be "fine".
He still braces himself, even with that dismissive thought. A man is preparing himself, and still...It's painful.
NT-D.
The harsh grunt of feeling the liquid enter his bloodstream. Hands releasing their grip, sliding back in the chair and deliberately slackening his jaw. Keep the muscles loose. Don't fight against it. Remember how your experimen-
All for naught. The gasp of feeling more. The rush of sensations. Out and out, the slow dissolution of the mind as psychoframe and consciousness become one, the blackened mind of a scarred, frayed soldier worming its way through the golden, pristine landscape of the Phenex's frame, laced with red that refused to ever come completely off. A mental canvas painting, blotting, infesting as the NT-D does its job. Hate. Hate. Hate.
The hatred of humanity. The frustration of the self. The curse of each and every individual scientist. THe loathing of his superior officers. The spite of every action Full Frontal takes. The furor of seeing those bureaucrats joyfully saying that they found the future of Neo Zeon. The violent fantasies of a Failure. The wants and whims of someone who had cast judgement in their own court of order, and personally desired the execution of humanity. How could humanity be this way? To profess to push to the stars, to push to Jupiter and beyond, to dig into the moon, the asteroids, the earth, to descerate this planet, and then to stand on those damn podiums (those larger than life THINGS that professed rank and nature because they did SOMETHING better) and say that what they did was in the goodness of everything? Why the hell did humanity deserve to live if it treated the dredges like cattle?
There's a gasp as he tries to vocalize. Kill. Hate. Maim. Disembowel. Behead. The people who said such lofty things deserved to have their heads roll for the blood price of their experimentations. To go and KILL EVERY LAST MOTH-
There's a blue light, and he stops midmotion. The equivalent of being dunked in cold water as that rage simply lessens, back to the quantity of festering frustration that he harbored. "...Ghagh..." A released breath that felt far, far longer than what passed, coughing for a few. He didn't cover his mouth.
"Just half, huh?" Was this what they called shock therapy? The weight on his mind, however invisible it was, was definitely less. Perhaps dealing with the full burden was worth it. "...Keep yourself reigned in. Simulations. The last thing I want is to be the target of some kid's phone snapping a picture because we're streaking over the REA or OCU or whatever government they put up recently."
A minor grumble. He can feel the machine. Hell, a finger is moving right now, tapping against the ground in seemingly practiced ease. "There's the hangar, at minimum. That's good, right?"