2023-04-08: Proof of Life
- Cast: Rita Bernal, Shelby Korts, Anser Vulpecula
- Where: The Photon Power Labs
- Date: U.C. 0097 04 08
- Summary: As the remnant of her spirit deteriorates, an old friend rushes to Rita's aid. Accompanying Shelby is one of the few psychoframe experts in the Earthsphere -- one who has met a Unicorn before.
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
Beneath the shadow of Mt. Fuji, bearing one more crater since this time last week, the Photon Power Lab waits, bearing one more secret since this time last week.
The RX-0 Unicorn Gundam 03, designation Phenex, lays prone in a tightly-secured hangar. Though still in one piece, technically, she's a pale version of her glory at Palau. Golden armor is largely shattered, broken-off pieces arranged carefully around her body like evidence at a crime scene. With so much of it missing, the true problem is revealed: her interior skeleton of blue psychoframe is filled with splintering cracks.
Very little of the psychoframe is gone, but in addition to the cracks, it looks... Burned. Scorched. The closer one looks to the cockpit, the worst the problem becomes. At the very heart of the Gundam, an orb of pure psychoframe surrounds the cockpit, and there, the brilliant blue has been warped and charred to shades of grey-black.
There is no sign of fire damage on the exterior of the Phenex. Whatever happened, it's as though the machine lit itself on fire from within.
For Shelby's eyes, there's one more distressing sight. Rita Bernal hides, pressed against the Phenex's side, nestled into a spot where the psychoframe is nearly fully exposed.
But she isn't as she should be. Instead of a woman in her mid-twenties, she's a child in her mid-teens. And, she's... burning. Her legs have seemingly been consumed by the fire roaring around her, leaving only the tattered remains of military-blue pants laying on the ground above where her knees should be. Her golden hair, reaching down to her waist in beautiful waves, is a conflagration. It burns, regenerates itself, then burns again, every few minutes. Her pale skin is a wasteland of burned-out ash, and on her face, tears of glowing flame trickle down her cheeks, carving a path through the soot.
Eyes, which should be a sweet, miraculous green, are empty of color or life. An unsettling, uniform white has eclipsed pupil and iris alike. Her clothing is in a state of burning, much like her hair, but nothing will disguise the truth from Shelby.
Rita's wearing the uniform of an Augusta test subject. The uniform of the Titans.
If she could, she'd pull her legs up to her chest, but they've burned away. Instead, she simply waits, staring blankly at the ceiling of the hangar above.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Despite getting a couple of showers in, she's been in the same clothes for days. Her hair's a bit of a mess, and the only other things she could scrounge up are a t-shirt, hoodie, and a baseball cap while travelling; hurrying, speeding back after being asked to show up to the Photon Power Lab to look in the machine they brought in -- their newest patient.
Normally she'd have something to say; a story, a tale about her trip, the people she had met along the way. Something new to try cooking. Some weird food from the orbital ring. The traffic of the orbital ring, and how long it took for her to actually book passage when she had heard. But ... she does not do that. Shelby Korts has been largely, deathly silent for most of the trip through the facility and to the secure area, but she can tell that something is wrong-- and it upgrades to Wrong, and then as she stands outside the door it's palpable:
The Phenex is in even worse shape than she thought.
"Oh..." is all she says as the door opens.
And then, she is running across the hangar as fast as she can manage, stopping short of the Phenex by a dozen feet or so before stopping to take in the damage. Her hands lift over her mouth and a shuddering breath is drawn in, moving ever-closer, and closer before her hands lift to hover over raw, exposed psychoframe.
She does not touch it. But her gaze drifts, slowly, searching, looking for her, for--
"Rita..."
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
===Imminent===
Everyone had scurried about like chickens with their heads cut off when the intel report stated that Palau might drop. Those that could sortie sortied. Those with access to a ship evacuated. It was, predictably, chaos. But Anser? She left her ship tucked neatly in one section of hangar, a heavy tarp keeping out the dust and debris. She'd lit a cigarette, and stared up at the sky, her bad habit smoldering between her fingers without ever being lifted to her lips. Just gazing skyward.
With combat joined her comms were nothing but static, of course. Expected. There would either be signal, or there would be an extinction event, and shed have a front row seat. Those in her periphery had paced, comforted one another. Held eachother. Wept. For her, her only company had been the static. The passage of time. The smell of her cigarette smoke drifting from where her solemnly folded arms tucked it.
Waiting for the man who severed her life into a third distinct piece. Waiting for the same catastrophe that shed been culpable in nearly visiting on this planet years priors.
How perfectly fucking appropriate.
===Victory===
When the good news spread, she hadnt cheered. Hardly reacted at all, by any accounts. She simply snuffed her cigarette with her boot and walked back inside to the darkened, empty hangar, retreating to her room for a few scant minutes and then immediately set right back where she left off, a small laptop seated on her thighs as she jacked into one of the cockpits of an old model that hadnt been flightworthy, running the diagnostics alone in the hangar, the green-on-black text casting her pale, exhausted features in a gleaming pallor.
>> Error: Handshake failed. Diagnostic system logs restricted to [Basic] mode.
>> Override accepted.
>> Critical: Power below recommended threshold of 80% [23%]
>> Critical: Communication loss with thrusters. <Error code: 2436879>
>> Critical: Communication loss with leg [R] <Error code: 5237983>
>> Critical: Communication loss with arm [R] <Error code: 5298370>
>> Critical: Communication loss with arm [R] <Error code: 2573980>
>> Informational: Last Service Date..
>> [Press any key for additional messages, or press Ctrl-Z or ESC to end.]
Striking a key, Anser had begun to rapidly type, her expression as listless, dull. A perfect place, this temporarily empty hangar. Free to do what she pleases, without judgment, while others celebrated. Shed start with the power, then. Get that squared away, and that would open up the path to further diagnostic data, then
===Now===
Even for the threadbare standards of restfulness that Anser typically runs by, shes looking stretched thin. Nothing seems to inspire her to sleep as little as possible as having repair work thats outstanding, and theres been no shortage of that as more and more Suits and Ships have returned from their sorties or merely returned after having turned tail to flee this rock (or come tumbling down to it and secured behind a secretive section that shes only recently been granted access to). Either way, its something to sink her teeth into, something to show her expertise, show that hard work and precise craftsmanship are the sound scientific practices that support miracles.
Something to keep busy. Anything to keep busy.
She is, mortifyingly, out of cigarettes, but she hasnt bothered yet to make the trip for more. Eventually, the itch for nicotine will force her hand, but shes making do with the now-sludgy, watery coffee. She doesnt grimace at the taste. Bitter is a flavor profile that agrees with her, and the past several years on Sweetwater have given perspective to the culinary catastrophes that exist in this wide universe, so she has plenty of perspective to deal with. Theres a monster here, and its a monster shes been reluctant to lay eyes on. To touch. To prod, despite her permission to enter.
Then, well Shelby. Its difficult to miss one of the few compatriots she has, and she drowsily lifts a hand, only to lower it when Shelby storms through to the checkpoint and is allowed entry, disappearing from sight without likely even spotting her up in the framework of what is largely an insignificant mech.
Running a hand through her hair and squinting with tired eyes, the engineer ploddingly makes her way down. Approaches the restricted area, shows the proper identification, fobs her badge, and enters, her footsteps reverberating in the largely empty space.
"...It's a pity the Banshee didn't show up." She says, breaking the silence as she approaches, "...The hat trick of mythological beasts would have made it an easier decision." She doesn't elaborate.
"...Korts," She rasps, her fatigue evident. "...I'm glad you're okay. This is one of them, right? The one with the..." She rolls a hand before allowing, "Girl built in."
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
Rita knows Shelby and Anser are coming. Though cut off from her larger self and prophetic abilities, she would know the touch of Shelby's soul anywhere. Torn between trying to hide (this form must be triggering to Shelby), and standing to greet her friend, Rita simply... looks up, with those empty eyes, a smile on her face.
Shelby. I'm so, so glad you're safe. I've missed you.
A wistful smile. Rita really, really wishes she could embrace Shelby as they did when they were children. Though their positions would be reversed now -- Shelby so much larger, and Rita smaller. I'm really sorry about the way I look. I'm afraid I can't change back right now.
Despite her obvious happiness at seeing Shelby, the tears tracing down Rita's charred face don't stop for even a moment.
And this is Anser, right? Your friend. Please tell her I say hello. She looks very tired. Is she going to be alright, working on the Phenex?
As Anser wishes for the Banshee, Rita flinches, as if physically stung. The fiery tears accelerate for a few moments.
No. Both my sisters need to stay far away from me. I can't interfere in their story. I've...
Empty white eyes trail along the Phenex's extended arm.
I've done enough damage. I've caused more suffering than anyone living can bear. All that matters is restoring the Phenex. Then I can make things right.
There's an undercurrent of frantic, zealous desperation in Rita's thoughts. She's beginning to wonder if she actually /can/ make things right, but can't let herself give shape to those fears.
A breath. A squaring of her shoulders, military-style.
Tell me what I can do to help. I'm not capable of much, but I'll try anything.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
She doesn't need to elaborate. Shelby frowns, but says nothing-- until asked if this is the model with built-in girl.
"Yes," Shelby says, her voice somewhat breathy, voiceless. She sniffles a little, wiping away at one eye before her head turns-- before she hears that voice, and--
"Rita..."
Stepping aside, hurrying to where she is, Shelby lowers herself down into a crouch before shifting into a kneel, her hands lifting a little, then lowering. Like she's trying to decide if she can touch a ghost; if she can hold the flames without hurting herself. Of course the uniform brings back memories, but... the better ones, inside all the awful ones.
Can Anser see what she sees...?
"I um... Anser, Rita... she says hello." A pause, then a faint smile. "Ah-- don't worry about it. Anser's the best mechanic out there. I trust her with my life, and everything I've got."
There's another brief pause, and the pink-haired young woman's hands lift a little. "I'll ask her. Okay? Please, just ... rest. We're on it."
Rising back up to her feet, she walks back to the shorter mechanic, her arms crossing and biting her lower lip. "We can help her, right? She wants to know if there's anything she should do to help..."
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Not bringing her cup of abysmal coffee was a mistake, but at the very least the sight of another RX-0 is bracing enough to keep her awake, as is Shelby's presence. They hadn't had time to catch up ever since the both of them stood as the rain poured down around them, as Anser struggled to find the right words. As Anser tried, again, to dissuade the pilot from putting herself in harm's way, and...
And she'd done so anyhow. But that was expected. It's like trying to tell her not to work on things. Not to adjust things. Not to tune them, not to tinker with them, not to strive to improve things where she can. To bring forth the full potential of the wonders that mankind has created, in as safe a manner as she can.
Safe? She'd endeavored to make the Jagd Doga's Psychoframe 'safe'. But activating it would always be risky, until the science improves. Not that Anaheim had any such interest, recklessly casting Psychoframe technology into more widespread use. Opening Pandora's Box in place of Laplace's, as she'd told Links.
She can't help it, though - approaching the downed machine with a sigh of resignation, appraising it with her severe red eyes, lifting a hand to cradle her chin, to tap her lips with her fingertips. She's not quite close enough to start scaling the downed mech. As Shelby spares her all of a momentary glance, Anser's head turns to follow after her, and her eyes close, her head slightly lowering as she advances, her teeth worrying at her lower lip.
The ensuing sight of Shelby talking to an ultimately unresponsive onboard AI is one that's... familiar. She's seen it enough among Newtypes. Staring off into nowhere. Muttering to themselves. This is nothing new, especially for Shelby. That doesn't mean that it makes the pained expression that Anser gains on watching it any less.
She steps forward again, following after Shelby from a distance.
There's a long, long pause after Shelby's question, and the mechanic slides her hands into her pockets. "...I want to make sure I'm understanding the ask." Her fatigue-bruised eyes turn from Shelby's pleading look to the prone Phenex. "...You're asking me to recommission a weapon. Specifically, you're asking me to restore operations to something that has an onboard self-aware AGI with the imprint of a dead girl on it." Her lips twitch slightly. It's an unpleasant neutrality on her face, though her brows do turn slightly downward before she closes her eyes and sighs.
"...Korts. We have the Unicorn. You didn't ask for my opinion, but I'll give it anyway."
Her hand settles low on her hip, "...We power down, and we salvage. If this entity is as advanced as you say, leaving it running is... well, I'm sure BioNet would find that exceptionally ethical. I don't. More to the point, there are already too many of these out there. Removing one... how is that anything but a net positive?"
Psychoframes.
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
Rita tries so hard to keep up that gentle smile, for Shelby's sake. It's the least she can do. At the reassurances over Anser, the burning spirit does seem to relax a little.
Okay. Thank you, Shelby.
At Shelby's request to rest, Rita takes in, and lets out, a soft breath. The fire swells around her with her exhale.
But... Anser's opinion on the Phenex is not the one Rita wants to hear. Leaning against her downed partner, still burning from the consequence of her Miracle, the Phenex's Beloved is /not/ in a great place to hear bad news.
We power down, and we salvage.
NO!
Rita shrieks the word. In response to her sudden distress, the psychoframe within the Phenex ignites, flickering with a guttering light. Blue radiance floods the hangar.
I'm not a computer! I'm--
What? Alive? A person? None of those are true.
I'm real! And I have to keep going! If I don't, everything--
EVERYTHING WILL HAVE BEEN FOR NOTHING
Bits of shattered armor around the Phenex lift. It's not an aggressive action, more a loss of control -- they simply raise into the air and tremble, as though being held in shaking hands. Rita tries to stand, but falls, and instead lifts herself psychically.
Behind her, the Phenex echoes her distress. The crest atop her head shivers, halfway to snapping open.
I won't -- I won't let you --
All at once, the lifted armor pieces collapse to the ground. Rita falls from the air, crashing against her Gundam, and flickers out of sight for a few long moments.
I won't let you hurt her.
It's hardly threatening. She can barely lift herself on her burning arms, looking hard at Anser. Her voice is nothing more than a breathy thread.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Shelby's mouth opens to speak, but she can't find the words. She can't find the thoughts, or emotions, as her head starts to lower and her arms fall to her sides. She shifts a step, dropping down into a squat and folding her arms across her knees. "Anser--"
'NO!'
"Rita--" Hurrying a few steps closer, Shelby's hands lift. "PLEASE! RITA! STOP! You have to stop-- we can fix this!! Don't get upset, I--"
Everything. Armor sections that shouldn't be able to move lifting in the air, the rumbling sensation, the glow within the psychoframe. The sound of the pieces falling and ringing out in the hangar, sending her hands to cover her ears and stumble a few steps away as all falls back down, as Rita disappears--
"Rita? RITA--"
-- and Shelby runs straight to the Phenex. Again her hands hover over the psychoframe, still not quite sure if she can-- if touching it-- will-- Rita reappears; Shelby rushing to her again and reaching out with her hands as if to clasp them on the apparition's shoulders. "Rita, please-- don't -- please-- we'll fix this, I promise..."
Standing back up, moving at a brisk pace, Shelby stands before Anser with trembling breath, her fingers curling up, fists tight and tears starting to streak her cheeks. "Anser. Please. She needs help. She's not an AI. I don't know how to prove it to you. I wish I could, but I /know/ it. I know she's /in there/. She's /real/. I'm begging you, /please/ help her."
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
She knows as she's saying it that it's not the answer that Shelby wants to hear, but it's the one that she's currently equipped to give. There's nothing about this situation that is easy for the exhausted engineer and psycommu researcher. There are expectations for her. She's keenly aware of that, or she wouldn't even have been granted access to this area.
She puffs a sigh, and whatever she's about to say after that is quickly shut down by the sudden flickering and the guttering activation of the psychoframe. Familiar. Too familiar after the hundreds of test runs, the hundreds of configuration failures that yielded similar results. Spooling to life, unstable. In other words, outside of a labaratory environment and slotted into a Gundam, an extremely dangerous thing.
She may be exhausted, but her reflexes aren't so fried that some adrenaline can't reinvigorate them. She takes several sharp steps back before hop-skipping even further back. It's misfiring. Yes, it makes sense that they can't power it off, but that makes it even more precarious to work with. Her fists tense as she watches the pull of the shattered scrap metal reacting to the activation, and her eyes widen as Shelby moves /toward/ the misfiring Psychoframe, her exhausted breathing reaching a pitch and she scrapes out a clipped, "No!"
But... thankfully, the scraps of metal fall as the unit either reaches a degree of stability or gutters back off.
A shuddery breath, and Anser takes a few steps forward, her typically neutral expression looking a touch pained as Shelby continues to plead with... either something that isn't there, or a partially activated AGI. At the very least, with power clearly up, that does open more options.
Then Shelby is storming towards her, fists balled.
She's coming. She's going to hit you.
Anser takes a stumbled step back to maintain a little bit of distance between herself and Shelby, taken aback for several seconds as she just stares and rapidly blinks, one hand lifted slightly, the other arm curled defensively around the arm she has outstretched. A momentary little gap in her unflappable demeanor. She swallows hard, and shakily lowers her hand with a great deal of effort, her cheeks coloring slightly as she hears Shelby out.
Her shoulders hunch upward and she takes a long breath and lets it out slow, "...I-- Okay. Just calm down, okay? I didn't say that's what we were /going/ to do. It was my recommendation. But I've said it before - dismantling these things doesn't change anything. There's no... putting the genie back in the lamp." She whisks her hand past her face now that her back is Shelby. She hangs her head a moment, and then takes several sharp steps forward, and raises her voice. It echoes loudly through the secure hangar.
"Pilot of the Phenex. Are you capable of communicating with me? My name is Anser Vulpecula. Do you know what it means to live? Is this life fulfilling for you? Is this life worth living for you?" Her lips twitch, and she continues, "...Whatever you are, I /know/ you can communicate. So talk to /me/."
She waits.
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
At Shelby's distress, Rita snaps out of her momentary loss of control. All that's left for her is a flood of burning tears, the fire scorching up in temperature until they glow blue. Everywhere they touch on Rita's spirit leaves splintering cracks through her form.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.
Rita is intangible, but where Shelby touches is /hot/. Not enough to burn, but enough to be uncomfortable. Her smile fading, Rita leans into the illusory touch.
I'm scared. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. I don't know where I went wrong.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Rita sobs, squeezing those empty eyes shut.
Anser speaks a challenge, and Rita raises her head. Even with the strength of the Phenex's psychoframe around her, the other woman can't see or hear her. So what can she possibly do?
Datapads are scattered around the hangar, but those don't have physical keys. Rita can't manipulate them. What else? What else?
In a panic, Rita stretches out a hand. Flames lick at her fingertips. Datapads are knocked aside atop desks. Papers scatter. At last, her frantic searching bears fruit. Rita finds a computer with physical keys.
Slowly, a trail is built from the Phenex's shattered armor. It stretches across to the hangar's near wall, the location of the computer. Each piece overlaps with its neighbors, forming a chain that can conduct the psychoframe's strength.
With a breath, Rita raises herself onto her hands and focuses. Slowly, her arms fade from view. Legs fade /into/ view. Apparently she can't maintain both at the same time. Walking across the path she made, Rita's spirit makes her way to the computer.
Blessedly, it was left unlocked. After puzzled mouse clicks, Rita manages to navigate to a notepad function.
>my name is rita bernal
>i was born in australia in 0072
>i like birds
>i'm not alive anymore
>but i'm real
The typing is excruciatingly slow, like a child hunting and pecking.
>i chose this myself
>i have to keep going
>or something very bad and scary will happen
>i cant give up
The cursor blinks for a few long moments.
>please don't kill us
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"It's okay," Shelby says, keeping her voice as calm as she can... which, under the circumstances, is 'not very.' "I know you didn't."
Shelby tries, so hard, to smile, but it falters every time, not quite able to get words or thoughts out just right. She rubs her eyes on her sleeve, even, reaching up to toss the baseball cap-- part of her brilliant disguise on the orbital ring-- aside, just focusing on the essence of the Phenex.
Anser drops the challenge: Speak to her.
The heat against her hands doesn't matter-- she's endured far worse. But she stands slowly as Rita does, rubbing her eyes again.
"Nice and easy, Rita. Don't overexert yourself."
And she stays put. Maybe as a control, to show that this isn't, somehow, Shelby's doing, that she's not using psychic control of some kind when she has enough problems even interacting with psychoframe in it's inert state without feeling strange.
Her hands clasp in front of her, fingers pressed to her mouth, and she just waits.
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
The rattling motion of some of the datapads reacting to the psychoframe's erratic activation sees Anser's hands balling into fists. Fists that go slack when she sees the pieces of armor slowly click-clack into something resembling a line, magnetism forming a pristine, flexing chain. She may be overly-reliant on cynicism and logic, but that doesn't mean she's impossible to impress. Anser quietly circles around, following the trajectory of those interconnected pieces, and watches with simple fascination as the perverse amalgam of mind and artificial intelligence that she assumes Rita to be manages the impressive feat of interacting with the physical world.
She watches as each letter is pressed, as words appear on the screen. In other circumstances, she'd likely be gleefully taking notes. But things are more pressing, just now.
And things are not okay for the smallest cynical engineer.
So she just watches. Waits. And reads.
She lifts a hand to her face when the words stop coming. She releases a slow noise into her palm that perfectly encapsulates something akin to disbelief and guilt.
"...Pilot of the Phenex." She totally doesn't even call her by name, after that impressive display. "You reside in a weapon. A terrifying weapon that can do great things, or terrible things. You should never have been placed there. You..." She lowers her hand from her face, and her voice lowers right along with it, "...Even knowing that you can't be more than this, do you still want to continue on? You won't be able to be more than this. Your memories, your dreams. You won't be able to walk again. Run. Breathe. Sing. You're trapped. I'd be scared, if I were in your position. I'd be too sad. Too scared. Despite all of this..."
She folds her arms, and skirts her attention towards Shelby, then back to the monitor. "...If it would be more painful to go than stay, I'll repair you. But I need your permission. Your consent. Just like I can't repair someone's property if they're not around to give me permission."
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
On reflex, Rita reaches out for the tossed baseball cap, 'catching' it and lowering it gently to the ground with her psychic strength. Part of her wishes Shelby would walk with her, but she recognizes the reasoning behind it. Anser can't have any reason to doubt what she's seeing.
I'm tired... Everything hurts...
They're less intentional words than feelings, echoing from the broken spirit.
Anser believes in Rita's existence. Or at least, recognizes her as a sentient being. A sigh of relief, and Rita sags against the desk, keeping her feet firmly planted on the armor chips.
It seems like Anser likes this way of communicating better than Shelby translating. Keys flash with blue light as Rita presses them down.
>i know
>this is a power that never should have existed
>but there is a worse power
>my duty is to take that power from humanity
>so no one will be hurt by it ever again
>but it isnt time yet
Can she say more? Now that Zoltan and Full Frontal revealed their monstrous machines, does secrecy even matter?
>please look into the records of the palau fight
>the neo zeongs
>they cannot exist
>i have to take it away
>and i can do it
>i stopped a reactor from going critical in a colony
>i helped save everyone at genesis
>i pushed palau to slow it down
>i can do good things i promise
>ive warned people of disasters so they could get away
>i am a miracle child
The desire to validate her existence is terrifying. Words spill out, a list of very quantified impossibilities. A resume of miracles.
The cursor blinks as Rita listens to Anser.
>i chose this
>it was the only way
Anser's words make Rita pause. Again, her form flickers away. Returning with a sob, she lowers her head.
>i was never able to do those things
>i knew that and i chose this
The cursor blinks. A sniffle. Rita's legs ignite into flame, scorching nothing but her own body.
>if you knew you could save the whole world
>but you had to sacrifice yourself and two others
>would you do it?
>of course
>it isnt a choice
Run. Breathe. Sing.
Too sad. Too scared.
>i
The cursor blinks.
>im scared
>things arent going the way i saw
>ive done everything right
>for 23 years i did everything right
>then more after i died
>but everything is wrong
Run. Breathe. Sing.
>i wanted
The line is left abandoned.
>please fix the phenex
>please
>i consent
>please help her
>if you just fix the psychoframe
>i can reestablish our bond and heal her
>right now im just a remnant from the battle
>i had to burn myself up to fight the monsters
>i didnt have enough power
>but it saved everyone
>thats enough
A long pause. Rita takes a shuddering breath.
>whatever it takes
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
It's okay. I believe in you.
Shelby fidgets where she stands, hands curling again as she struggles to figure out what to do. What to say, really, what case she could make as Anser lists all of this off. As the mechanic even seems to momentarily glance her way, she seems to ... be on board with this? Offering to help-- and--
-- and Rita types. And explains, and struggles, to do something, to keep herself...
Nice and easy. You've got this.
Wiping her eyes again, Shelby walks closer, less forcefully and fast and more calmly and trying so very hard to figure out her own emotions. She doesn't read the screen, instead just ... waiting. Waiting to hear what Anser has to say, what the result of all of this will be.
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Anser watches, and says nothing. Saying more, giving additional information, all of it would only serve to weaken any data that she might collect. Poisoning the well of her own inquiry by delivering too many hand-picked queries for Rita to react to. The young engineer gropes at her pocket, seeking a packet of cigarettes that isn't there. She ends up folding her arms again, close-trimmed fingernails quietly scraping against the skin there, watching with no small amount of anxiety born of stress, lack of sleep, and... well, other factors.
She exhales when the typing stops.
In the echoing room, Anser's heavy work boots echo as she walks forward. Towards Shelby, her expression difficult to read.
She doesn't speak a word for quite some time, but with more time to look at her without the veil of tears and swelling emotions, Shelby will certainly be able to discern that the mechanic looks gaunt. Stretched thin. Overworked. Pushing herself too far.
Hurting.
The last few steps take longer than the several that came before, as she approaches the prone Gundam and extends her hand. "...I believe that you think you're real. And you've said enough without my prompting to convince me that you're not just reacting to preprogrammed words. That trick with Korts' hat, being able to determine your environment. Trickier. Could be done without rationalizations, but... I'm sorry for the theatrics."
Her hand slowly settles on the Gundam's frame. Warm. The warmth of a sputtering, improperly running psychoframe.
"...I'll do what I can. If Nanai -- if my mentor were here, I know she could do it. I was able to make some sense of the Unicorn, but she wasn't as badly damaged. Regardless, I have my notes. My research."
Anser quietly lets her hand trail down the frame, before dropping to her side again. "...I can't start now. Four hours. Maybe five. To sleep."
She looks like she needs about twenty.
"But -- I'll fix you. As best as I can."
<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.
Thank you, Shelby. I'm so glad you're here. I've missed you so much.
Rita smiles to her friend, those empty eyes loving, despite their lack of life.
Anser walks away from the computer, and Rita follows, politely collecting each of the armor chips of her path and placing them back around the Phenex. Resting against its body again, she lets go of the illusion of her legs, letting her arms slowly reform.
Though Anser doesn't say... exactly what Rita wants to hear, it's enough. Rita nods softly. A gesture for herself, since the engineer can't see it.
Eventually, a sigh of relief, and another flood of burning tears. Rita covers her face with her hands, shuddering.
Thank you. Thank you, thank you. I was so scared. I'll help you however I can.
The Phenex, for all its warmth, is decidedly unactivated. Not once has its engine sparked to life, nor its internal electronics. It glows with the power of her Beloved alone. In fact, should Anser look over the PPL's notes, she will find it seems to have only ever been activated once. No weapons ever fired.
Please rest. Both of you. I don't want you to hurt yourselves. More than four or five, maybe?
She sounds unsure. So much time is going by.
I'm tired too. In my own way.
Rita's image flickers in and out. Slowly, she drags herself to the Phenex's enormous hand. Her small, teenage form settles in the Gundam's palm and curls in on herself slightly, laying on her side.
I'm so tired...
Pressure in the hangar eases. The psychoframe goes dark, flickering out like a candle. Rita exists only as a barest afterimage now, near-entirely transparent.
Thank you. Thank you so much, Shelby, Anser...
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Shelby watches-- carefully, though finding herself moving almost unconsciously a few steps from Rita as the segments and chips shift and slide and move back to where they were. As Rita clambers up into the Phenex's hand, as she seems to-- finally-- be able to rest, at least for a bit.
As Anser's hands shift from the psychoframe, Shelby is just ... there. Quiet and crying and her arms out to try to snatch the mechanic up in a hug, her head down and sniffling.
"Thank you. Thank you, Anser."
We'll go to the batting cages. Maybe there's an arcade in town. Get something to eat. Rest for once. Not have to worry about working day in and day out. All things she wants to say, but she just can't get it out of her throat, find the words.
I can hear everything, yet
I feel powerless
I can't do this alone.
"I just ... hhh... t-thank you."