#sys zero

It happens on a planet that is aquatic in nature, 90% ocean to 10% surface landmass, whose name does not translate all that well to humanoid vocal structures. The vast swaths of water suit the inhabitants just fine, as almost all native species are aquatic or semi-aquatic in nature. The few inhabited parts of the land are mostly for the benefit of travellers.

It is one of these travellers’ locations that Sys-Zero finds himself at, the day that the meeting occurs. He is there as captain of the G.E.A.R.S dropship, and is waiting for the arrival of prospective students.

The dropship itself is still in orbit. Though for most planets it would be common courtesy to land and allow prospective student to board the old fashioned and traditional way, here it is common courtesy to do the exact opposite. Having travelled through the vacuum of space or not, having an airlock or not, the dropship could still carry far too many contaminants that, though normal to the rest of the galaxy, could easily cause an epidemic for this planet.

The difference between breathing water and breathing air, let alone the atmospheric differences, has led to the inhabitants of this planet haven’t vastly different immune systems to most of the galaxy.

He counts himself fortunate that it doesn’t go both ways – though the oxygen levels are slightly higher than he’s used to, he doesn’t need a breathing mask to remain on the surface of the planet. A good thing, in his opinion, as he finds breathing masks awfully uncomfortable.

He has been there waiting for all of half an hour when he hears the first set of approaching footsteps.

Footsteps which indicate running.

She is clearly unaccustomed to being on land - or, at the very least, out of practice at it - as her movements sway and are just ever so erratic, in the way of one used to being able to move in three dimensions and now confined to just two. There’s a possibility that she’s currently not used to using a humanoid form to walk – let alone run- as well, as her legs are splaying and her feet landing at odd angles.

 Approximately ten seconds after he first turns to see who is coming, she trips, almost predictably, over her own two feet.

Split-second reflexes honed over years of starship- and mecha- piloting are the only thing that allow him to cross the distance just fast enough to prevent a rather unpleasant introduction between her face and the ground, one hand braced against her shoulder and the other supporting her elbow.

Both of her hands clamp onto his arms shortly afterwards and don’t let go until they have both manoeuvred in such a way that she is standing again.

“THANKS,” she says, voice not quite loud enough to be shouting but still significantly above the average decibel level. Another sign that she doesn’t usually spend much time above water –  since they needed to be louder underwater to account for the vibrational differences between water and air, inhabitants of this planet tended to have volume control difficulties at first, or so he’d been told.

She gives him a wide, sharp, and toothy grin, tucks a few stray locks of blue hair behind her ear, and sticks out a hand to shake.

“I’m Ro!” she declares, volume dropped to a typical level, though with a slight hiss of air to it that indicates she almost feels she is whispering.

“Sys-Zero,” he responds in kind, shaking the offered hand.

Her eyes light up.

Ro, as he discovers over the next few minutes, is one of the prospective students that he was waiting for. He also discovers that she is sixteen(an age average to leave for University for her culture but which marks her as one of the youngest incoming students of G.E.A.R.S), is the oldest of seven children (three younger brothers, three younger sisters), and that she’s never been off planet before (but has heard space is quote unquote “really freaking cool”).

It’s surprisingly easy to kick up a rapport with her, and he is not ashamed to admit that he was a little bit delighted to hear that she would be taking his piloting class. He has a feeling that she’ll take to space with ease – most members of underwater species do.

“So, what does teleportation feel like?” she asks, looking up to the sky as though she could pick out the waiting star ship with the naked eye. Her breathing mask dangles from her hand.

“Like having all of your molecules disassembled and reassembled somewhere else,” he replies. She huffs and he finds himself laughing slightly. He points to her mask. “Put that on and you’ll find out for yourself soon enough,”

She rolls her eyes but complies. There are a few slight hisses as the mask locks into place and starts filtering the air and then she gives him a thumbs up. Her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners in a way that suggests she is smiling beneath the mask.

He sends the signal to the dropship and she gives him a sloppy mock salute just before the transportation beam whisks her away.

He wonders how long after landing on Loreon it will take her purple breathing mask to be replaced with on in Wolfblade colours. He gives it a week.

His heart is hammering in his chest, adrenaline and no little amount of stress and worry pulsing through his veins with every heavy thump, but despite the urgent nature of his mission, Sys-Zero can’t help the slight smile that grows on his face. Flying always does that for him, and he suspects that it always will. Not even the journey of space in a starship can match the sheer joy of the open sky surrounding him.

Something beeps in his ear and a point on the map on his HUD flashes to announce that he is approaching Tibattleonia. With barely a flourish – something which would alert any familiar with him to the seriousness of the situation in an instant – he dives down through the clouds, taking barely a moment to relish the moisture against his skin.

He flicks his energy blade into his hand and flicks it on as he lands, prepared just in case he encounters hostiles. His HUD, which had filled almost all of his vision while in the sky, registers the change of altitude and adjusts automatically, the map and information shrinking to a corner of his vision and being replaced with a clear view of the world around him.

He sees Tibattleonia and the grip on his blade tightens. His wings flare widely involuntarily.

He keeps his blade at the ready and creeps through what once was a town and now is naught but rubble. Dodging the Shadowscythe mecha still lumbering around feels like child’s play on foot, especially with his wings to help lighten his steps when needed. The few pilots encountered outside of said machines are equally easy to avoid. A part of him screams at the evasions, demanding he take on the enemy and avenge what has happened here, but a larger part reminds him that this is reconnaissance and that as fast and nimble as he may be, he is no match for a mecha alone.

By the time that he has made it through What-Once-Was-Tibattleonia and ascertained the facts of the situation (those being that the SDF forces stationed here are gone and that the majority of the Shadowscythe forces didn’t stick around), near-dusk has faded into just-past-dusk and the moon is beginning to rise in the distance.

It is under the cover of that darkness that he creeps out of the other side of Tibattleonia, the Shadowscythe forces seemingly none the wiser, and takes off silently into the night.

He doesn’t have a clue what awaits him at the end of this second journey. He isn't the slightest bit aware that he wasn't as unnoticed as he thought. He is not yet familiar enough with Shadowscythe tactics to tell that they let him get the information he was after.