~April 23rd, 136 AH~
~Sector Gemini, somewhere to the north of Korak Valley FOB~
The first decision Zelen made, as he and Spindrift set off toward Objective Charlie, was to keep the same loadout from the first part of the mission.
Double [GATLINGS], RS [HARPOON], and LS [SCUTUM]. The [GATLINGS] and the [SCUTUM] were a general-purpose setup that Zelen himself was fond of, one that allowed him to be ready for any encounter. The [HARPOON] of course was a personal touch, something to keep in the back pocket in case there were more Vorases on the road.
The only input he’d received from Major Shiranui had been the simple instruction of review your loadout as they went about their pre-sortie inspections. Zelen wondered if this paucity of feedback was a continuation of the senior Reiter’s trial-by-fire mentoring method or perhaps even a sign of increased trust. The fact that he’d thought to wonder this at all, Zelen decided, boded well for the future of this working relationship.
Spindrift himself had made only one change from yesterday, settling on a loadout of RA [MJOLNIR], LA [WINCHESTER], RS [MISSILE LAUNCHER], and LS [AEGIS]. It was a drastically different approach from Zelen’s, one that emphasized destructive potential at the expense of balance and versatility.
[MJOLNIR]’s single-hit impact couldn’t be understated, yet it was also liable to leaving the Eidolon exposed in between swings. [WINCHESTER] could almost be described as the ranged analogue to [MJOLNIR]: high-risk high-reward, slow and methodical. In fact, Zelen couldn’t think of anyone other than Spindrift who’d willingly employ this armament outside of proto-Reiter training. [MISSILE LAUNCHER], a low-footprint option valued more for its homing capabilities than damage output, was clearly intended for setting up kills with the arm weapons. Lastly, [AEGIS] was yet another rare choice, one that provided a short window of near-invulnerability, with the assumption being the fight itself would be short and sweet.
The sheer swagger that oozed from every aspect of Spindrift’s setup was nothing short of awe-inspiring, but the man was unique—even among the most experienced Reiters—in his ability to maximize its potential. Zelen still had a long, long way to go before he could hope to match even half of that swagger.
The second decision on the day, as it turned out, was a much more personal (and perilous) one. Strictly speaking, however, it didn’t have much to do with the mission itself.
Aren’t you going to ask him, Kingfisher?
“Excuse me?”
Presently, the Reiters flew over a northerly continuation of Korak Valley: a vast and multifaceted canyon that was said to have been the site of a great river centuries ago. All that remained now were latticed scars upon arid earth, and the neglected husks of long-dead Syntropy half-buried in ash.
It was over this desolate terrain that Spiegel Delta-Upsilon continued her interrogation, I can sense your desire to reach out to Spindrift, now stronger than ever. Is this not part of the trust-building process you spoke of yesterday? I for one support you in this initiative, Kingfisher.
“Since when do you care what happens between me and another Reiter?” Zelen almost immediately regretted his tone—a touch too petulant in his embarrassment.
Forgive me if I’ve overstepped my bounds. However, in light of our most recent combat encounter, I’m cognizant of contingencies where my rigid approach might prove insufficient in supporting you to the fullest. There are situations where the words and actions of a fellow Reiter can speak far louder than I ever could. I only hoped you might consider keeping those channels open.
Once again, Silon’s suggestions proved far too logical and considerate for Zelen to refute. That didn’t make him any less shy, however, especially when it was Makiri Shiranui on the other line.
“What could I even say to him, though? The only times we’ve spoken, they’ve all been about the mission.”
That’s not true.
“Excuse me?”
Yesterday, after the fight, the things Spindrift said to you didn’t strictly concern the mission. In fact, I daresay some of them were about you specifically, Kingfisher.
This too was true enough. Not only that, it’d also hit upon the very thing that had been on Zelen’s mind since yesterday’s fight: the one thing he wanted to ask Spindrift directly, instead of trying to guess at his thoughts and intentions.
“This is Kingfisher. Um… Spindrift, sir? Is it alright… if I asked you a question? Over?”
The pause that followed was long enough to convince Zelen that he’d made a terrible mistake. But then the even-keeled voice of his team leader came online and said, “This is Spindrift. Go ahead, over.”
Suddenly even more terrified than before he’d turned on the radio, Zelen nevertheless pressed on, “I was… thinking about the things you said to me yesterday. It was almost like a… poem? I’d never heard it before, but repeating the lines after you had a strangely calming effect. Like… like I wasn’t the only one inside my cockpit. As if… my comrades-in-arms—present, former, and future—spoke to me through the Nexus and told me I wasn’t alone. Where did those words come from, if I may ask? …Oh, over!”
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By then, Zelen felt himself in the midst of a Psychic collapse even worse than the one he’d experienced yesterday. God, how did I let Silon talk me into this?
All he’d wanted was to express the mysteries that had gnawed at his heart, yet in doing so, he’d surely shared too much of himself. He’d never been this open with anyone—not his family, not even Megha Vakta. Yet just now, he’d willingly rattled off the most intimate and melodramatic contents of his mind in front of Akropolis’s killingest Reiter!
Zelen half-wished for Spindrift to turn around and put him out of his misery, perhaps with a well-placed bonk from [MJOLNIR]. No such luck, however, as the senior Reiter came back with a response that was as serious as it was mild-mannered.
“They’re the intro to a book I read back when I was still a proto-Reiter. A Warrior’s Remembrance. Author unknown, though judging from the materials used in the bindings, it was written sometime during the first decades of the Syntropy War. If you want my opinion, most of the book itself is onanistic drivel, not worth the paper it was printed on. But the intro—poem, if you could even call it that—somehow stuck with me.”
Zelen was amazed—and mystified some more. He supposed he’d always known Spindrift to be well-read (especially by Reiter standards), but this was the first time he’d heard the older man speak on his decidedly unwarlike hobby. Also, what the hell does ‘onanistic’ mean?
He wasn’t about to advertise his inferior vocabulary, however. Instead, he focused on the main mission of getting to know his superior officer.
“I noticed the poem’s striking similarities with the Tenets of Seherschaft. Is that what drew your interest as well?”
Another pause, which Zelen quickly realized meant only that Spindrift gave his queries due consideration.
“I’ll be frank. I think the poem is also nonsensical and histrionic. But I can’t deny it appeals to certain sensibilities shared by men of a certain age—especially ones that contend with death as a matter of routine. Memorizing it—and reciting it on occasion—pulled me through a few rough patches early in my career.”
Now Zelen just straight up didn’t believe his team leader. Rough patches? In Spindrift’s career? But he managed to keep his incredulity in check as he asked, “Is that what gave you the idea? To get me to recite it too?”
Next came the longest pause in the conversation, which somewhat disconcerted Zelen. Of all the questions he’d asked thus far, he would’ve thought this latest one was the simplest to answer. And yet—
“Do you know what my Einkunst does, Kingfisher?”
It was Zelen’s turn to take a moment to compose his response. This whole exchange had certainly taken an unexpected turn.
“I’ve never had it explained to me in full, si—Spindrift. But the way I understand it is it allows you to… see potential threats before they unfold in battle.”
“That’s a common misconception.”
“I… apologize, Spindrift. Please correct me.”
“[THE INEVITABLE] is exactly that: the one and only possible outcome given a set of conditions and preceding events. My Einkunst is no different to what all Reiters—or really any and all individuals going about their lives—normally do from moment to moment: react to changing conditions, predict the next event in a sequence, determine and execute the best course of action.
“My version of this mundane operation just so happens to be faster, more sensitive, and more precise than perhaps any other human in history. That is my gift from the Nexus, but it can on occasions feel like a curse. I can’t just turn it off, you see. Even out of combat, I perceive the thoughts and actions of my companions a split second faster than they themselves can. You could imagine how that might make day-to-day interactions… tiresome.”
This latest realization summoned in Zelen the familiar image of Makiri Shiranui sitting by himself at briefings, eyes buried in his latest reading material. Could his aloofness simply have been an attempt at depriving himself of sensory and social cues?
“The main point I want to impress upon you is that [THE INEVITABLE] is merely an extension and refinement of existing faculties. It’s not the precognition many seem to believe it is. I certainly couldn’t tell you what the canteen will serve next Tuesday, any more than I could tell you what and how many enemy units might be waiting for us at Objective Charlie. My Einkunst had never shown me so-called visions… until I met you.”
“What?”
Despite the desert air rushing past his Eidolon and the creaks of machinery inside his cockpit, Zelen felt total silence descend.
“You were… ten, when you became engaged to my sister, were you not? From the moment I saw you, I felt a… an otherness about your presence, as if the Nexus spoke to me in riddles. What I perceived from you never struck me as [INEVITABLE], but more like the echoes of a distant past… or the whispers of a far-reaching future.”
Zelen found it difficult to breathe, as more fragments of his past crowded out his perception of the here and now. The duel at the Gauntlet. His lucky win. Had it actually been because Makiri’s Einkunst didn’t work on him? Yet he also sensed—knew—that hadn’t told the whole story.
“Know this, Kingfisher. If I’ve been especially tough on you over the years, perhaps even cruel… I admit I might’ve been influenced by the futures foretold by your presence, through no fault of your own. And for that, I apologize.”
Somehow, Zelen didn’t want to know. But he had to ask. How could he not?
“What future was this, Spindrift?”
“Futures, plural. It seems even the Nexus hasn’t got you pegged. I don’t know what if anything these visions mean, but I can only comment on what I’ve seen and felt. There are futures where you become the saviour of mankind, the one to lead us to the ultimate victory.”
“And in the others?”
“In the others,” Spindrift’s even-keeled voice carried through the radio, betraying none of the thoughts behind his words, “you’re the harbinger of utter destruction, the one to bring an end to humanity as we know it.”
Silence filled the waves and the yawning chasm that had just opened within Zelen’s chest.
What did any of this mean? Did it mean anything? How could one man’s Einkunst foretell the fate of all mankind, let alone Zelen’s role within it? And yet, Spindrift wasn’t done.
“And yesterday was the first time.”
“…What?”
“Yesterday, as you struggled to come to terms with your own anger and fear and hatred after the battle… it was the first time the whispers that hovered around you settled into one discrete shape. Something [INEVITABLE] I could then pre-empt. All this to say… that was what made me think of the poem… what prompted me to share it with you.
“Because whether you’re humanity’s saviour or destroyer, in that moment, you were just a young Reiter going through a rough patch.”