white-hot anger flashes from her temples to the base of her spine. pain, too. betrayal.
all this time-- all this time. clovis bray the first. maker of horrors. maker of her and her kin-- the exo. he stands in front of her, his identity of hannu ruptured in her mind. she can’t look at him without seeing clovis within the face she has been calling friend.
the Clovis A.I.’s voice still curls in her head like a snake, coy and condescending. she was a toy in his game-- whatever it was-- and she had let it happen.
her hands are tight fists at her side and yet she stands immobile, rooted in her turmoil. of course. of course. of course. if she had looked for it, would she have seen it? the lines, the connections? if she hadn’t longed for kin so badly, would she have strayed so close to a stranger?
whether she’s seething from pain at her own failures or hannu’s-- clovis’-- betrayal, seraph can’t fully tell. but there is pain.
“Amends?” her voice sounds unfamiliar under the weight of her anger. She hears the welling of sincerity behind his own words, his pleading, but they do little for her. “What amends, Clovis?”
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The Exo has his arms crossed as glitter, confetti, a straw hat, and flowers decorated him after their work party. Normally he would have not participated in any of their silly games, but he was convinced to do so when his friends and coworkers practically dragged him into it.
He says nothing but takes a long sip of his martini and narrows his eyes at her.
The force of his glare was somewhat diminished by all the glitter and confetti (and the hat), but Jenna was careful to suppress her laugh as she set down the tray she'd been clearing.
"Come on, the evening wasn't that bad. Having a bit of fun is good for you," she teased as she brushed his shoulders free of party materials (being careful not to get anything in his drink). "Besides, it's a good morale boost to have our boss around for a few games. Who can deny that?"
Ky pushed away from his desk letting out a slow breath. He stood tapping the core of the vex with his pointer finger smiling. He looked around the room noting how vacant it had become. Surely it wasn’t that late in the day? Most stayed later than him when working for Bray tech. Though he only ended up staying late because of his own habit of taking a playful break or two to scare his coworkers.
The younger man picked up his tablet typing his notes for the day. Another fruitless attempt at trying to understand the vex core. Though it did appear duller. “Core seems to have burned out for stress of testing. I’m going to leave it to rest for the night and see if recharges itself or if needs to a robotic host to carry it.”
He flicked through various apps starting to navigate out of the room. He pulled his badge swiping it on the door as a sort of alarm to Clovis and security he was done for the evening. Just a quick stop to the canteen and his steps started to carry him through the hallway typing up his report of the day. It was amazing how only a month here and he had already made more progress in understanding the Vex’s time fussing. Though it was still a long way off from being useful, it was something to report.
The sound of glass crunching under his foot made the man look up. Brown eyes looked around the faculty, “What happened? Did an Exo explode?” He muttered looking his feet still carrying him towards food. How empty this whole was started to get to Ky. Surely there was someone other then the little robots cleaning away. Clovis was nice, but the old man hadn’t exactly given off the vibe of letting a whole company off at the same time.
“Hello??? HELLOOOOOOO???”
Coreopsis all but beams up at Clovis. For a moment, they thought they’d maybe actually give him a break for once. However, they quickly discarded that thought for the habit of being a little shit who tries to keep him on his toes. Grinning, their curls bounce as they shake their head. “I am 100% going to let it go to my head now,” they tease.
Turning to look over their fellow employees, the teasing energy falls away for a moment when Coreopsis looks at him next. “But thank you, really, for going along with my idea. It’ll be good for everyone to have a break.” The sincerity in their voice turned back to teasing like a switch was flicked when they looked at him from the corner of their eye and gave a sly smirk. “Even you with your 99 meetings a day. Maybe you can get it down to 88.”
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“You seem like nothing more than a shell of your former self. Left in the depths of Europa to freeze.
One would think someone of such high stature would be kept somewhere a bit less... Desolate. Or has that ego driven everyone away?” She’s learned a bit from her time on the moon- from the research she’s done.
yellow optics measure up the frame across from her carefully. she’s newly awoken as of this week and still in the early gauntlet of routine tests and checks to see if everything’s in working order. she shouldn’t remember anyone or anything-- or so she’s been told.
and yet...
he’s familiar. the mannerisms, the way he writes, the way he talks to her-- it feels like a memory even though she shouldn’t have any. is it a mistake? a fault in her systems? seraph continues her range of motion test as she begins to speak, each word treading carefully.
“I’m not sure... but... perhaps a friend. Or a supervisor. I’ve seen you take notes like this before, I’m sure of it.”
/*******************CBoC 44 pseudocode for Status Register write***************/
void BNRAM_EXO_1_Status_Reg_Write ( uint44 data_byte ) { BNRAM_EXO_1_CC_Reg_Write(0); // Enable the EXO slave by toggling clarity control LOW BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_ClearTxBuffer(); //Clear EXO transmit buffer before sending command BNRAM_SPI_1_CBIM_WriteTxData(BNRAM_CR8T); // Set the write enable (CB0) bit //prior to write//Wait until EXO_DONE flag is cleared while((BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_ReadTxStatus() & BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_STS_EXO_DONE) != BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_STS_EXO_DONE); BNRAM_EXO_1_CB_Reg_Write(1); //CB0 is set high when CC is switched high BNRAM_EXO_1_CC_Reg_Write(0); //Re-enable the EXO slave BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_ClearTxBuffer(); BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_WriteTxData(BNRAM_WRSR_CMD); //Send Write Status Register instruction BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_WriteTxData(data_byte); //Send data //Wait until EXO_DONE flag is cleared while((BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_ReadTxStatus() & BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_STS_EXO_DONE) != BNRAM_EXO_1_CBIM_STS_EXO_DONE); BNRAM_EXO_1_CC_Reg_Write(1); //Terminate the write operation by toggling //clarity control HIGH }
________________________________________
Okay. That was annoying.
Banshee-44 didn't know who in the hell Clovis Bray thought he was, but he would be damned if the asshole executed a recall order on him.
The Vanguard Gunsmith paused a moment, literally, and set the auto-rifle he'd been at work on down on the counter before him. He cupped his metal alloy chin in a brilliantly designed and articulated hand and thought.
Well. He supposed that Clovis Bray thought he was...Clovis Bray. By all accounts he did what he wanted, when he wanted to. So that pretty much summed it up.
Banshee made a noise that sounded like a snort and focused his attention on the small gaggle of Guardians before him.
Would a group of Guardians be called a gaggle? Never thought of it before. Never? Maybe. He couldn't remember.
"Yeah, here ya go," the Exo mumbled, as he twisted to reach one of the Guardians' orders.
It took roughly thirty minutes for Banshee to make his way through the line of Guardians that had stacked up in front of his station. Where in the hell did they all come from? That was the problem in having his workstation right off the primary landing pad. He looked forward to the return to the old Tower.
The white and blue optics stared out across the Courtyard and upwards, to where the glow of acetylene torches and the sparks of welders lit up the early evening.
Holy hell, was it evening already?
Wait. Or was it early morning.
Banshee-44 consulted a datapad to check the time. It was indeed 1843 hours. He sighed, a mechanical sound. It wasn't that he didn't trust his chronometer's programming enough to rely on it for the time; it was that he didn't trust his fried RAM enough to remember the damn time.
A chime, something like a chime, definitely musical, but a kind of pretty sort of noise tickled his audio receptors. It was vaguely familiar somehow.
Oh. The recall order. That.
"Ain't like I wasn't gonna see you eventually anyways," the Gunsmith muttered.
He closed up his workstation and made his way through the maintenance walkways to the Hangar. Banshee took the back ways whenever he could. Being out among people...it was easier for him to forget where he was going. And why.
He was okay with being alone anyways.
He thought he was okay with it, at least.
The Gunsmith popped out into the Daito room. It was thankfully empty. Weird that they had a branded lounge in the space.
He ducked down into the airway and cast a glance at the journal lying on some nearby shelving. Oh. That. He wondered where he'd left it. He'd have to grab it on his way back through. If he remembered.
A few steps more and he was in the pit of the Hangar. He strode over to the Vanguard's Lead Shipwright, Amanda Holliday, and simply stood before her. He saw that she was elbow deep into a Sparrow, so he said nothing. Only stood with his arms folded.
It took Holliday several minutes before she realized that the Exo who stood before her was Banshee-44 and not some Titan. She'd spoken to him as if he were a Guardian, as she had assumed that's who it was. Being all still and stoic and non-responsive.
"Hey there, Ban," she called out as she straightened her back. Holliday worked her shoulders up and down, stiff from the repairs. "Need somethin'?"
It was unusual to see the Gunsmith in her domain, though not out of the ordinary.
If he had the plating to do so, Banshee would have blinked at her. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Wasn't urgent. Just wanted to ask a favor."
Holliday's eyes widened in curiosity and one eyebrow arched at the words. Him asking a favor was not typical. Whatever it was, it was going to be a good one. "Uh, sure, Ban. Whatcha need?"
The Exo nodded toward the rear of the hangar bay. "A ride."
"A what?" At that, Holliday stood up, and somehow avoided the boom that held up the Sparrow. "You need a ride?" She sounded incredulous.
"Hmm-mmm," he grunted.
An awkward pause followed.
"I can fly myself," he added, his arms held open in something between a shrug and a friendly surrender. "You don't have to worry about ferrying me around."
Holliday's mouth worked open and closed a few times before she managed speech. "No...I mean...it's okay, I don't mind...it's been a while is all." It had been, what, months? since Banshee had borrowed a ship. He hadn't needed to borrow one back at the old Tower since he had a transport vessel. It was destroyed in the Red War, unfortunately. Holliday thought it was a shame. He kept it in decent nick seeing as how he generally forgot he had it. "You going international or domestic?" she joked. Her initial surprise had faded to nothing.
"International," he responded. It was a long running joke that indicated he needed to a ship capable of leaving the atmosphere. "Gotta errand that requires it."
Banshee thought it best he leave the details to himself. Commander Zavala wouldn't take kindly to his excursion and neither would Holliday, come to think of it.
"That's been a while. Not since before the war," the Shipwright commented. She stretched both arms over her head and stepped out from her workshop. Banshee followed her around to the other side, where she stood with hands on hips. "Got a Hawk you can borrow. She's over yonder." Holliday motioned across the deck to a Hawk bearing Vanguard colors. It was without offensive armament, however.
"Sold." Banshee tilted his head at Holliday and nodded. "Thanks."
"Sure." She turned to go back to her project, hand in the air as way of goodbye. "Don't forget to top off the tank when you bring her back."
Banshee made a short, sharp noise that was a laugh and made his way to the ship.
________________________________________
He'd taken liberties with his flight plan, as his destination was strictly forbidden under current Vanguard policy. Banshee doubted that any claim of not his having forgotten Commander Zavala's explicit order would be believed. A little of what they once called jiggery-pokery was necessary.
Banshee had told the Vanguard's favorite Guardian that he would visit the Clovis Bray AI at some point. Said Guardian had helped to rebuild what had turned out to be his own weapon. It was one hell of a sword. Huge. Stupidly overpowered.
Felt comfortable in his hands. Good, even. Like it belonged.
Still, the Guardian had been the one to piece it together. It was theirs by rights.
He knew from the scouting reports that the giant Exo head that housed the AI was deep in the ruins of Bray Exoscience. The only safe LZ was at a communications array in Charon's Crossing. He'd have to be inconspicuous.
There was some EVA gear in the Hawk. And a tarp that he could use as a makeshift cloak. He'd seen how some of the Guardians dressed, even the ones that weren't New Light. It could get pretty rough by his eye, but he wasn’t big on fashion as a rule.
Banshee pulled a RJSV-99-40 Sparrow out of the Hawk's vehicle stores and mounted up. The ride from Charon's Crossing to Cadmus Ridge was brief, but the journey through Cadmus Ridge into Bray Exoscience was choppy due to the Fallen.
He ignored the arc bolts that chained past his helmet and kept the throttle floored. He deftly maneuvered past Dregs and Vandals, bumped a very angry Captain out of the way, and sped into the jagged entrance to Bray Exoscience.
One magazine and a few dead Fallen later, Banshee had a spacious office and lab area to himself.
On the main desk he spied a figure that looked a little too much like himself and scattered papers. The topmost paper was a drawing, like an artist's render...
He found himself with one hand on the desk, head bowed, the other hand on the back of the chair, his A/R still clutched between fingers which trembled.
"The hell is that," Banshee hissed to the empty room. He turned his head away from the dark, shrouded figure sketched onto the yellowed paper.
He stepped into the private lab and took note of the open hatch to his right. It seemed like he should go that route, so he did.
The inert, deactivated Exominds slumped across equipment, crumpled onto the floor, and in pieces scattered throughout marked the journey. Banshee moved slowly, wide, bright eyes taking in everything and nothing. It was surreal. It was goddamn surreal. But it was his past. Or so he was led to understand.
He stepped into an antechamber of sorts. Sealed hatch to his right and ahead. Couldn't go through those. He glanced to his left.
And nearly jumped.
"I'll be damned," he breathed. It was an enormous head, an Exo's head, unlit eyes dispassionate and lifeless. So it was true. The AI really was inside of a giant Exo. The head of one, at least.
A squad of BrayTech security frames kept watch, some armed with RPGs, some with A/Rs. Standard BrayTech fare. They appeared oblivious to his approach.
Banshee-44 took a few cautious steps closer to the construct and stopped at the threshold. He pulled off his helmet and stared at it. If he'd been built to have pseudo-eyelids, he would have blinked long and hard at the head. As he didn't, his optics merely glowed. It made his gaze seem hard and intense.
After a moment, he stuck his free hand in the air in a half-hearted wave at the giant Exo. "Uh." He cocked his head to one side. "Yo."
