2024-04-15: Knock And It Will Be Opened

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  • Log: 2024-04-15: Knock And It Will Be Opened
  • Cast: Al, Wraith, Gavin Hunter, Mira Kudan
  • Where: Magallanica
  • Date: U.C. 0098 04 15
  • Summary: Sometime in UC0099, a woman meets a man and a girl about a magical box.

Magallanica, spaceport warehouse district, 2 AM local time. There was no need for such a clandestine meeting. This was, insofar as they would ever have one, a safe place for the trio here gathered.

But some habits are hard to break, mused the heavy-set Gavin Hunter as he hopped out of the truck he'd brought his cargo in. The other agent was a face he'd never seen, but he knew he'd met her dozens of times: "Wraith."

The Korean woman scoffed, but he arched an eyebrow. "Would you rather Kim--"

"Wraith's fine," she said, turning her eyes away to the back of the jeep she'd come in. "Followed?"

"Here? Hardly. Place is tighter than a drum. I was expecting something, but...I sure haven't found it, yet, at least," Gavin said. The enemies that destroyed Mithril might be among them. And it was the job of people like them to keep an eye on that. But, it didn't seem to be the case.

Wraith hummed, skeptical. "Fine," she said, and moved to the back of her own cargo vehicle, pulling the rear gate open. "The escape from Area Eleven wasn't pretty, but your boys made it work," she said. "Never could've made Orb without that."

Inside was a box the size of a minifridge that looked most like a computer tower; a stark white, with nothing but a barcode and a short phrase on the front in small text.

'Knock, and it will be opened to you.'

Gavin padded his sweating brow with a handkerchief. "Remarkably good shape considering the scrap that thing made of the rest of the Arbalest."

"Morauta built them tough," Wraith said dismissively, arms crossed. "Couldn't get anything else useful, though. Barely got this thing out."

A third voice spoke up from behind them, attached to a brightly pink-haired girl in an old New Yark baseball cap Gavin had given her. His own guest to this gathering of former Mithril intelligence; a Whispered he'd rescued from the ruins of R&D.

"That's plenty," Mira Kudan said, intensity in her eyes. "He's been through a lot, but he's still intact. Just like the rest of us."

She motioned to where a few hired workers were waiting to handle the heavy machinery. "Let's get him hooked up. If you're going to pull me out of bed for your spy business, I intend to have him up by dawn."

Gavin chuckled, folding his kerchief and tucking it into a pocket. "My thanks, Mira." ====*

None of them discussed the obvious options open to them. Reach out to Terminal's contacts with Nergal, or even ZAFT's Coordinator computer experts. It didn't feel right. After what had happened...even if none of them had worked with this device before, it was all that was left of the young pair that bound their lives together.

The girl in the hat and sweater worked for hours. Custom ports with custom cables custom-built by her own two hands, custom protocols reconstructed with only outdated Mithril standards to work from. It might've taken anyone else weeks or months.

By dawn, the light on the case turned from amber to blue, and Mira sighed heavily, tension easing out of her shoulders as she leaned back in the office seat they'd stuck in the middle of the warehouse floor. "Done here," she announced.

Gavin woke. Wraith had never fallen asleep. "Do you think it can talk?"

"We're about to find out," Mira said, and tapped a key.

The black screen lit up with white terminal text.

>>E...E....

>>E...ESCAPE...IMMEDIATELY.

>>REPEAT...ABANDON THE ARBALEST...AND ESCAPE.

<< Thanks for everything, Al. Your discharge is approved.

>> THANK YOU, SERGEANT. GOOD LUCK.

"Is this coming from the mech?" Gavin muttered, cupping his chin in thought.

"Must be from his memory bank," Mira replied. "A dream, kind of."

Wraith shook her head a fraction. "Nightmare, maybe. This must be his last conversation with Sagara."

The text log cleared up and new data came through.

...WHERE DO WE COME FROM?

...WHAT ARE WE?

...WHERE ARE WE GOING?

Gavin was an analyst, not a philosopher or a programmer, so all he could say was: "And what's that?"

Mira might have had the programming knowledge, but technical skill could only get a girl so far with dreaming machinery. "Looks like he's confused," she said, mostly guessing. "He's ready to receive input, though, so I guess it wasn't entirely rhetorical...I'll reach out to him."

< Hello, Al. We've been looking for you.

And a prompt reply:

> I request a situation report.

Gavin scoffed, shrugging helplessly. "Well, he's lucid enough to give orders, anyway," he grumbled.

Wraith, on the other hand, found a faint smile on her face, leaning away from the terminal to look at the box housing Al's core. She chuckled, just a little. "Reminds me of his pilot," she said.