~April 22nd, 136 AH~

~Sector Gemini, Korak Valley FOB~

The gruff-mannered man in charge of the Korak Valley FOB was a Panzer by the name of Master Sergeant Gabriel Rivera. And despite his being Sehermensch and an enlisted Corpsman to boot, he seemed to have no qualms about bossing around Akropolis’s killingest Reiter.

“There’re three Anamnium pods ready for retrieval.” He hadn’t bothered to spit out his gum as he set to explaining the tactical situation. Visual aid came in the lowest form of technology: lines and shapes drawn into the dirt. “One about 80 klicks due south, another 100 klicks in a roughly southeasterly direction, and a third almost 200 klicks up north. They should show up on your radars, but you do need to be the in the ballpark first. My masterpiece good enough for you, or do I need to requisition a navigator drone?”

He eyed Makiri as he said this, not with insolence but merely with disinterest. Watching this, Zelen thought he knew his type. To borrow his friend Megha’s parlance, MSG Rivera was someone that was ‘too old to give a shit’.

“The diagram is sufficient,” Makiri answered with matching indifference. If he’d been offended at all by the Corpsman’s manners (or the lack thereof), he didn’t show it.

MSG Rivera half-snorted half-grunted, before adding, “I’ll leave the routes and resupply plans in your capable hands. The shields on the pods should be up for at least another 60 hours or so, so you’ve got some time, but I still wouldn’t dally if I were you.”

Makiri nodded wordlessly, but Zelen couldn’t help but frown. Curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, “Why’s that?”

The Panzer turned to the younger Reiter as if seeing him for the first time. “Who’s this joker? They didn’t explain it to you back on base?”

Zelen flushed, both surprised and embarrassed by the treatment. He was momentarily lost for words, and was grateful when his superior spoke for him.

“Forgive Lieutenant Athelstan’s inexperience. This is his first Anamnium retrieval mission.”

“Athelstan? Another Tetrarch pup, huh? They must have a factory or something pumping you guys out. To answer your question, Lieutenant, for reasons none of us really understand, the Syntropy seem to have a sixth sense for Anamnium pods that are at or near full charge. They’ll sometimes come sniffing around, no doubt hoping to pick off the retrieval parties.”

Zelen’s frown only deepened. No, they hadn’t mentioned this back on base, and he couldn’t really think why. The briefing had been rather brief and rushed, even by usual standards, but this felt like a fairly important detail to leave out. He’d assumed that Reiters were needed for the mission in case there might be Syntropy presence en route, not that there was a high likelihood of enemies anticipating his and Makiri’s arrival.

Seeing the expression on the young Reiter’s face, MSG Rivera let out a chuckle. When he spoke again, he sounded cheerful for the first time during the conversation, “That’s not all, kid. We’re stretched for resources this far out from base, so we don’t even have up-to-date intel on the pod locations. For all I know, there could be whole hordes of Syntropy lying in wait, ready to throw the kitchen sink at a pair of unsuspecting Reiters.”

Zelen blanched almost as quickly as he’d flushed earlier. This only made the old Corpsman laugh harder. Then—to Zelen’s immense shock—the man gave Makiri’s back a hearty slap.

“But I suppose that’s what we have Spindrift for, eh?” he happily remarked. “I mean, let’s hope it doesn’t come to it, but if push comes to shove, you’ve got your Einkunst to fall back on.”

Even with his jaw still hanging open, Zelen could appreciate the logic behind this assessment.

Makiri Shiranui was an exceptionally skilled pilot and an instinctual fighter, and he more than likely would still have been history’s killingest Reiter even if he weren’t an Einkunster. Yet there was no denying that [THE INEVITABLE] was a significant element of his prowess. And as MSG Rivera had correctly pointed out, this particular Einkunst just happened to be the ideal counter against a potential ambush.

The man in question, however, kept his thoughts close to his chest, showing no outward reaction to the compliments nor the slap on his back. Instead, he spoke in his ever even-keeled voice, “Thank you for the run-down, Master Sergeant. I believe we’re ready to begin.”

“Already? Sure you don’t want to grab a bite first? Not that we have anything other than rations, mind you.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Athelstan.” As Makiri turned his gaunt elongated face and oddly sleepy eyes onto his junior, Zelen straightened himself out of reflex. “Perform final checks on your Eidolon, then meet me field-side. We depart in ten minutes.”

Zelen saluted in acknowledgement, or at least tried to. His superior had already spun and left before he could bring his hand up to his forehead.

He aborted the salute, then took a moment to watch Makiri move across the FOB with impossibly long strides. Inside his mind, he wrestled with a question that had been bothering him ever since the duel that had earned him his callsign.

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“I know what you’re thinking.”

Zelen turned to the smirking figure of MSG Rivera. As he addressed the older man, he rather awkwardly put on the affectations expected of an officer speaking to an enlisted Corpsman, “To what do you refer, Master Sergeant?”

“I refer, Lieutenant, to your mystified expression as you gaze upon your superior officer. It’s a look that says, I just can’t figure this guy out.”

Zelen blushed again, not just at the mockery, but also because the old Panzer was completely correct. He stammered, “I don’t think… that it’s appropriate for us to—”

“I’ve heard the horror stories too,” the Master Sergeant pressed on, undeterred, “about how tough Makiri Shiranui is on his fellow Reiters. Well, I’ve been around long enough to see how he treats us Corpsmen, and I can tell you he’s been nothing but polite and respectful. I mean, he still doesn’t say much, you know; I don’t think that’s ever going to change. But… none of us are shaking in our boots anytime we’re near him, the way you lot seem to be…”

Zelen wondered at this, once again lost for words. Could this be true? The same man that had forced his entire class to run wind sprints until their muscles turned to rubber and their guts littered the Gymnasium floor? The same man that had broken Zelen’s arm, just to demonstrate a grappling move?

“I think I know his type,” MSG Rivera continued. “He’s the kind of perfectionist that expects perfection from everyone else. Yet he’s also got a clear sense of where his expertise begins and ends, so he doesn’t stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. In any case, I’m glad he’s your boss and not mine, I’ll tell you that for free!”

The Master Sergeant’s carefree laughter followed Zelen as he trudged toward the supply station. This was where a team of young Corpsmen busied about polishing his Eidolon up to mission-readiness. A Jaeger had just disconnected the Anamnium fuel line, and a Panzer was just about finished refreshing the armour.

Before mounting, Zelen tilted his head to inspect his model ES-V.

The midnight-blue paint job, with which he’d rather happily occupied himself in the first few days after his Tethering, already showed nicks and blemishes after several months of field work. It hadn’t quite turned out to be the gleaming phantom he’d once pictured. In fact, he could no longer see much that distinguished his own Eidolon from all the other battle-worn giants that flew into and across the planet’s haze.

One such giant was the crimson centipede-covered beast that belonged to Major Makiri Shiranui, who already waited for him on the other side of the barrier. As Zelen fell in line, the older Reiter wasted no time in starting the mission proper.

“This is Spindrift. Radio check, over.”

“This is Kingfisher. Loud and clear, over.”

“Acknowledged. Routine Retrieval 136-4 is a go. Spindrift out.”

~April 22nd, 136 AH~

~Sector Gemini, somewhere southwest of Korak Valley FOB~

Something seems to be bothering you, Kingfisher. Could I help in any way?

Delta-Upsilon’s prompt snapped Zelen out of his latest episode of woolgathering.

Presently, he cruised low to the barren earth, following diagonally behind Spindrift. In his hands (in his Eidolon’s hands) was a hefty drum-shaped contraption they’d extracted from the first location pointed out by MSG Rivera.

After all the build-up, Objective Alpha had turned out to be a whole lot of nothing. The pair enjoyed an unimpeded southward flight for 80 kilometres, where new readings on the radar led them to a shielded installation that housed the first Anamnium pod. No Syntropy in sight or on radar.

Having decided that resupply could wait, the Reiters now flew directly toward Objective Bravo, about 50 klicks west of their previous location. And Delta-Upsilon had guessed correctly that something was on Zelen’s mind.

For he’d just flown about 130 klicks in near-complete silence, save for the bare minimum communication that was needed to secure the Anamnium pod. If the stress of partnering with Spindrift wouldn’t get to him first, then the boredom certainly would.

“I don’t know that it’s anything you could help with… Delta-Upsilon,” he finally spoke, glad to have anyone—or anything—to talk to. “You could say I’m struggling with something that I feel is holding me back… from being a better soldier. Maybe even a better person.”

Is this about Spindrift?

“God, you’re always so perceptive, Silon. I can call you Silon, right? It’s just easier to say.”

You can call me anything you like. I’ll respond all the same. You were saying about Spindrift?

Zelen paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. As absurd as it was, he wanted to sound calm and collected in front of his Spiegel.

“I’ve always been scared of Major Shiranui, and I don’t want to be anymore. I mean, even putting aside the fact he’s going to be my brother-in-law… he’s my superior officer, my partner on this mission, and my comrade-in-arms for years to come. I want to be able to trust him fully, and for him to trust me in turn. I don’t want… I don’t want to ever see someone die when I could’ve done something to stop it.”

The again was left unsaid. Zelen half-expected his Spiegel to take her time processing the messy innards of a young human’s mind, but the response was quick and surprisingly direct.

Have you tried talking to him?

“What?”

As I understand it, one method by which colleagues get to know each other and build mutual trust is verbal communication.

“Well, sure, but…” Zelen found himself blushing as he raced to find excuses for his own reticence. “I mean he’s Spindrift, for god’s sake! What’s a young Reiter like me even supposed to say to him?”

Communication goes both ways, Kingfisher.

“Excuse me?”

I merely wish to express that the onus to build trust isn’t fully on you. Perhaps Spindrift is also thinking of doing the same, and just hasn’t found the right opportunity to start.

Zelen doubted that very much, but the little back-and-forth had helped to ease his mind. In any case, he and his equally reticent team leader were now fast approaching Objective Bravo, and they both needed to stay sharp.

The Eidolon’s HUD suddenly beeped, and a white dot appeared on the radar, indicating the coordinates of the second Anamnium pod. From where Zelen flew, it looked as though the pod was nestled somewhere within a mound of craggy rocks. Other than the white dot, the radar remained spotless.

As they neared the objective, however, the crimson frame of Spindrift slowed, and the team leader raised a mechanized fist to signal for Zelen to do the same.

Zelen obeyed readily enough. At the same time, he tried to settle the pounding in his chest. For he didn’t need red dots on a radar nor his team leader’s next words to tell him that Makiri Shiranui’s Einkunst had sensed something—something [INEVITABLE] that lay hidden beneath the rocks.

“This is Spindrift. Probable ambush at Objective Bravo. Prepare to engage.”