EH 01 - MAY-DAY! MAY-DAY! M-
Remember, if you get caught-” The Keeper's expression was hard as he looked over the hunter who stood before him in the airlock. The blue vallaslin on the Keepers forehead pulsed in time with the man’s heartbeat, the luminescent tattoos giving his nerves away. No doubt the purple etched into Milliara’s own face was doing the same.
“I won’t get caught.”
“But if you do,” The Keeper said sternly. He grabbed Milliara’s chin with his free hand. Even thick with arthritis, his fingers were strong enough to hold her there even as she reached up to knock the hand away.
“If I do,” Milliara said through clenched teeth, “You worry about keeping your end of the agreement. I’ll keep mine: I was working alone.”
“The spirits are malcontent,” Keeper Lavellan said. Pressing thin lips together, he pushed Milliara away from him from his grip on her chin. “I do not expect you to return, Mi'elgara.”
He shook his head, stepping out of the airlock and gesturing to the shadows where the clan’s first waited. Emerald green covering half the man's face, Varlas crossed his arms, watching through narrowed eyes. Waiting for a misstep, as he had since Milliara had first set foot aboard the Aravel.
“I should go with her,” the other hunter said to the keeper, though Milliara could feel his eyes on her as she pulled the helmet of her pressurized suit over her head, tucking her ears in carefully so they wouldn’t catch. Once the finest make that money could buy, it was scuffed and blackened, a pastiche of Orlesian and Dalish tech. But it worked, and none of the elves on the Lavellan Aravel were willing to part with more than broken parts.
“Varlas,” the Keeper said to his grandson with a warm pat on the shoulder, “Are not expendable. Mi'elgara is. I doubt she will betray us, we have what she cherishes most.”
Varlas nodded, and after a moment’s hesitation, he reached for the airlock controls. Milliara checked the suit’s pressure, hands practiced as they ran her last safety checks. The HUD blinked to life in the familiar lilac that was now etched deep into her skin.
“Depressurizing on your signal.” Varlas’s voice was tinny through the speaker in her helmet.
“Clear.” She said, grabbing onto the pack of gear that had waited by her feet, and looped it over her head and shoulder. She cinched the strap tight so the pack wouldn't float out of place
She could hear the hiss as the vacuum of the Lavellan Aravel sucked the air of the airlock back into the main ship. She took a deep breath of cycled air, the familiar carbon taste already seeping onto her tongue. Get in, get what they wanted, get out.
“Optimal tangent point approaching to intersect with the Temple. Opening hull doors in ten…nine…”
Simple. So why was she nervous?
“...six...”
The Elvhen had to find out if the skirmishes between the Templars and Magi was going to erupt into a war and risk the a mass exodus of the Fereldan and Orlesian refugees towards the outer systems where the Aravels lived safely. Milliara needed the Elvhen, and so here she was, heading back deep into human controlled space to spy on what was possibly the most heavily guarded meeting in hundreds of years.
“No pressure,” she murmured to herself.
“...two...one.”
The Hull door swung open. Distant stars swam as a familiar vertigo swept over her. It lasted only a moment. With a deep breath, Milliara grabbed the door, and yanked herself forward, launching forward into the void.
“Remember what's at stake, Mi'elgara.” Varlas’s voice crackled with static. In the background, she heard the Keeper order the Traveller’s exit of orbit. She was about to be on her own. The commlink snapped with static as the Aravel severed their connection.
Milliara swallowed her reply. There was no one to hear it and saying it outloud wouldn't make her feel better. Instead she looked at the icy moon’s surface below her. Haven, it was called. Rock, snow, and a swarm of ships that orbited it of her. The brilliant and impressive, painted gold to reflect the light of any stars they passed, the Templar fleet was the closest. The ragtag collection of Magi ships hid in the lee of the moon. Too far for her to reach safely without being noticed.
First she had to get into one of the Templar ships, then into a shuttle. Then she’d worry about how she’d get to the Moon’s surface. Milliara twisted, using the small thrusters on her suit to change her vector towards a shuttle that was still docked to one of the nearer Templar ships.
The Hound
Nose close to the glass of her datapad, Knight-Enchanter Haylan snuck a glance around it to check that the door to the barracks was still closed. The last thing she needed was Gavin walking in just as the story was getting to the good part. Huddled into her bunk, she squinted at the door before scrolling down to the next paragraph of Feral-dan Love, Volume 4. It was trash, but it was such good trash she couldn’t help it.
His bare chest heaved in the glow of the lake, golden luminescent algae lighting him in a godly glow. His eyes sparkled as he held out a hand to her, and his lips pulled into a smile that sent Riathlyn’s heart all aflutter.
“Come swim with me,” Alissar said. “You’ve never looked more beautiful than you have in this moment.”
Ruth-Lynne sucked in a breath, and took a step forward, pulling down the zipper of her pressure suit-
The hiss of the barrack’s door gave Haylan just enough time to swipe the smut from her datapad, replacing it with the Herbalwiki entry she’d been editing earlier. Cheeks burning, Haylan started tapping at the screen, pretending that’s what she’d been doing all along as Fallon’s blonde head poked into the room.
The woman arched an eyebrow at Haylan’s red face and smirked as Haylan huffed in reply.
“Lake scene?” she asked.
“Wh- N-“ Haylan said, swinging her legs off the bunk and holding up the data pad to show the herb entry.
“Lake scene,” Fallon said with a nod. “C’mon, it’ll be there in a bit. Knight Captain wants us in the briefing room.”
“It wasn’t…” Haylan said with a frown, locking her datapad and hopping off the bunk to follow. “I was working.”
The snort from her squadmate was enough to tell Haylan that Fallon didn’t believe her. Glowering in silence, the enchanter shoved her hands into the pockets of her flightsuit and led the way up to the bridge where the Knight Captain and her Second were waiting.
A hard woman, Captain Faulkner stood by a holo table, arms crossed and staring down at a slowly spinning debris field shown by cyan light that flickered and glitched in the centre. Pixels, static and flashes of green light kept disrupting the holo, and Haylan frowned as she looked from Faulkner to Gavin who stood nearby, his face solemn.
“Good,” Faulkner said, looking up at the two women. “We received orders at 09h10 that there was an attack on the Peace Talks between the Magi and Night Templars. Current reports are difficult, there’s…” she paused, frowning at the glitch that hovered in front of her. “…there’s an anomaly that’s causing communications to be spotty. Reports are unreliable but Command believes that survivors are minimal.”
With a gesture, Faulker zoomed the view of the holotable out to show the remainder of the moon that once held the temple of Sacred ashes. Shattered, a few large pieces drifted close to each other over the surface of a gas giant below: Frostback. Ruined ships spun in nothing, torn to shreds.
Haylan blinked, feeling the heat seep out of her. They’d intentionally been kept out of the way during the peace talks. The Hounds weren’t supposed to exist, and if things went south, they needed to continue to be the Ace in the Templar’s hole.
“Who did it?” Fallon asked, hands clenching at her sides. Open, closed. Open… closed.
“We’re not sure, no one’s claimed responsibility yet.” Faulkner paused again, brow creasing. “What we do know is that the Temple of Sacred Ashes is destroyed, the Divine is missing and the anomaly is some sort of disruption in the Veil. That means it was one of the Magi. You have one hour to pack up, we ship out on the hour to Frostback’s nearest Station, Haven. Dismissed.”
The Medic
Space was quiet. No sound travelled in the vacuum as the world flashed brilliant green and a wave of force expanded out from the moon ahead. Sitting next to her brother, Peanut grabbed onto the control panel and braced herself as the green wave raced towards them.
The Adaar’s ship bucked, steel and carbon fibre groaning under the force of the explosion. For breathless seconds, Pea was sure the hull would give way. Next to her, the other Qunari frantically tried to steady the ship.
Something fizzled and popped in the console, and Pea felt herself start to lift out of her seat as the artificial gravity slowly ebbed away.
“What was that?” she asked, brushing back white curls from her face. Without gravity to hold it down, her hair was lifting up tighter to her cheeks and horns. Wedging one foot against the floor and the other leg against the underside of her seat, Pea pulled her hair back, braiding it to keep it out of the way.
“I don’t know,” Tanim said, squinting at the controls and tapping at them before grunting in annoyance. “Fitzed us good though, Gravity’s off, so’s our engine control. I’ll go see if I can fix it, keep your eyes peeled for anything weird.”
“Weirder than that?” Pea asked, pulling herself back into her seat and buckling in to keep from floating away. The last thing she wanted to do was crack her horns on the ceiling of the ship. “Guess it’s a good thing we were late…” she said quietly. There was a green light shifting and flickering where the Temple had been.
“..or I’d have been split-pea soup!”
The Queen
“How bad is it?”
Hands on the table, the Hero of Fereldan shook her head. Her hair was black, tied back into a braid that hung over her shoulder, brushing the surface of the holo table she leaned against. Ice blue eyes stared at the video of the explosion and she could feel a muscle start to twitch in her jaw. One of the many windows held a redheaded woman’s portrait with the ‘connected’ icon in the lower right.
“It’s very bad,” she told her husband, glancing away from the video to look at him with the smallest of smiles. It didn’t reach her eyes. “The Temple of Sacred ashes is gone. Just gone.”
“Hello Alistair,” Leliana’s voice said, crackling with static. “We’re still investigating, but unidentified life forms have been emerging from the tear, and causing us difficulty. I cannot talk for long, I am afraid.”
Alistair walked up to stand next to his wife, resting his hand over hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“What can we do to help?” He asked.
“Send support, military, healing supplies. I would ask for anything you can spare, but I’m aware how delicate the political situation is right now,” Leliana said. “Commander Rutherford and Seeker Pentaghast will do what they can to hold the hostiles at bay until we can stem the tide.”
“I should be there,” Rythlen said, frowning. “I could help.” Even as she said it, she knew Leliana was right. Until they found out who was responsible for the attack, anything more than token aid would imply that Fereldan supported the Templars or the Magi. It didn’t matter which, both sides would argue that the other was at fault.
“No,” Leliana said. “I-“ there was a crack of static, and Leliana cleared her throat. “I must go. I will relay more information when I have it.”
The comm window blinked closed, and Rythlen sighed, straightening.
“She said she’d never seen anything like it before,” she said, leaning her head onto Alistair’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Considering what we’ve been through…”
“Yeah, that’s saying something,” Alistair agreed, wrapping his arms around her. “We’ll figure something out, Rybee. We’ll find a way to help. I promise.”
The Spy
Someone was following her. Whoever it was didn’t ping the suit’s radar, but Nathyara had learned to trust the prickle on the back of her neck. Someone was following her, even though when she’d turned to look over her shoulder, the hallway had been empty.
The Magi and the Templars had gathered in the main sanctuary, and their arguing voices could be heard echoing through the temple’s hallways all the way up to where Millie crouched, hidden in a dusty alcove.
The prickle was still there, and the woman slowly reached for the knife stashed in her boot. The radar was fine, she knew. More than once it had saved her ass, but now it wasn’t showing /anything/. Behind her visor, Nathy frowned. The radar still wasn't showing anything, but from the corner of her eye, she caught a whorl of dust spin against the flagstones.
Someone was following her.
Nathyara activated the thrusters on her suit and leapt at where the person should be. Knife drawn, the woman thrust down with both hands in what was surely a deathblow. Casualties were to expected in this line of work.
The air flickered under her. A small form in a blackened space suit now where empty air had been a heartbeat before. Nearly a foot shorter than Nathyara was, the person was well short of where Nathy had aimed her knife. Instead of stabbing the stalker in the chest, Nathyara slammed into them, sending them both to the stone floor.
Nathyara, taller, heavier and stronger, quickly got the upper hand. Knife in hand, Nathy stabbed at the stalker again, but the small person twisted, dodging the knife as it sought their throat. While it cut into their shoulder, that was hardly a killing blow. Nathy wasn't given a second chance, the stalker grabbed the knife and tore it away, sending it skittering along the stone floor to rest against a large wooden door.
Fuck.
Time to improvise.
Using the stalker's movement, Nathy wrapped her arms around the smaller person’s neck. Tightening the headlock, Nathy held on tight as the stalker batted at her arms, her helmet, anything to get Nathy off, to get air flowing back into their lungs. But each strike was weaker, more desperate and less effective.
Then they went still.
Waiting for another few breaths, Nathy let go and pushed the small assassin away. Before she stood, Nathy listened carefully to hear if anyone had heard the scuffle and was on the way to investigate. There were muffled voices from beyond , but while they were heated, they didn’t seem to be about what had happened in the hallway.
Creeping forwards, Nathy carefully picked up her knife and pressed the door ever so gently to open it a crack and hear what was being said. A woman’s voice was begging, and a man’s laughed.
“Please, I beg of you, do not do this,” she was saying. Her accent thick and Orlesian. Was that the Divine? But then who was the man?
Maeve was yanked back and then slammed into the door, knocking it wide open and cracking the acrylic of her visor. Stumbling into the room, Nathyara blinked as she was hit again from behind, and the world exploded into green.
*
Milliara waited as the human stood, walking over to pick up the knife that had been knocked away. She knew something was wrong when she’d rounded the corner of the hallway and the woman she’d been tailing was gone. Now she was sprawled on the floor of an old as shit temple with a burning shoulder and crushed windpipe.
Sucking in air and watching to be sure the human didn’t turn around to finish the job, Milliara slowly pushed herself to her feet, taking care to be as quiet as possible. Splatters of red on the flagstones told her that she’d need to repair the suit before she could re-enter the vacuum. Hopefully duct tape would last long enough to reach a relay point with the Dalish.
Lungs burning, Milliara, crept up behind the human as they seemed to try to eavesdrop through the door ahead of them. With both hands, the elf grabbed the other woman’s helmet, yanking back before slamming it into the door with a satisfying crunch. The door swung inwards, forcing Milliara to alter her plans. Instead of cracking the woman’s helmet into the door again, she tackled her, sending them both flying forward. Something flashed towards them, and then everything flashed green.
They didn’t land. Instead, they tumbled through weightlessness, or… the world tumbled around them. Milliara let go of the woman, clamping her hand over the tear in her suit to keep her air from escaping. Her injured hand held onto her attacker.
She hissed through the speakers on the side of her helmet. Her voice was raw, words too painful to say. Even the hiss had hurt near enough to bring water to her eyes.
“Who are you? Did you do this?!” the human asked, knocking Milliara’s hand free, and sending them drifting apart, spinning slowly in the air. Around them was spongey ground rising up in mounds, and Milliara reached out, stopping her rotation by resting her hand against one of the ‘mounds’.
Slowly they settled against the ground. Whatever it was, it seemed to have gravity, just not in a way that made sense.
Milliara shook her head, then made the sign of long ears against her helmet with her free hand, looking over the human’s suit a bit more closely. There was no insignia. No colours to signify which nation the woman fought for.
“Elf? You're an elf?”
Milliara nodded, and pointed to her throat. No words.
Something chittered and clicked from off to Milliara’s right. Glancing over, she saw a horde of…. Of somethings there. Boys, toddlers through to prepubescent, all wearing a very familiar face. Their eyes were empty, pale and glowing as their teeth snapped and chittered excitedly, as though they were talking amongst each other.
All at once, the heat was gone from her. The anger at her mission getting interrupted, the anger at the woman for maybe poisoning her… everything was gone in the face of this new horror. How could- there was no way this could be real. It was a projection, an illusion.
“Come on, before they get us,” the human yelled, grabbing Milliara’s wrist and yanking her along. The flare of pain in her shoulder urged the elf into action, her feet digging into the soft ground. She was lighter than the human, but faster. All the years in space had helped form her species for low-grav environments just like this. Wrapping her hand around the human’s, Milliara used their hands to point to a slash of green that twisted in the air ahead of them. They just needed to get there, get through.
Someone in a golden suit was waiting there, holding the glowing light ‘open’ to show dark space beyond. Safety from the very wrong children that were scampering after them on hands and knees.
Scrabbling up the steep incline of slime and rock and spongey ground, Milliara and the human took turns dragging each other forward, tumbling into the slash of green and out…. Out into a debris field of slowly rotating rocks, bodies and detritus from the fleets that had been destroyed.
Hand still to her shoulder, Milliara blinked, her already aching lungs not able to draw enough air through her damaged throat to keep conscious. She felt arms wrap around her, one over her own hand on her shoulder... And then nothing.
