[psychopomp@ARC-MACRTHR-B42 ~]$ esoalg_induct --subject=HOPELAND_T
>> RITE OF ENLISTMENT :: INDUCTION SEQUENCE INITIATED
>> initiate: Hopeland, Trinity Kismet
>> hp_index: 63.8 [FLAG: EXCEEDS NOMINAL RANGE]
>> autonom_access: HIGH [FLAG: EXCEEDS NOMINAL RANGE]
[00:00:04.112] esoalg handshake -> autonomic[nervous_system] ... LOCK REQUEST
[00:00:04.114] esoalg handshake -> autonomic[smooth_muscle] ... LOCK REQUEST
[00:00:04.114] esoalg handshake -> autonomic[sanctum] ... LOCK REQUEST
[00:00:04.115] esoalg handshake -> autonomic[anima_core] ... LOCK REQUEST
[00:00:04.116] esoalg handshake -> autonomic[neuronic_tissue] ... LOCK REQUEST
[00:00:04.117] WARNING: resource already held (owner: SELF)
[00:00:04.118] WARNING: resource already held (owner: SELF)
[00:00:04.203] retry x1 ... retry x2 ... retry x3 ...
[00:00:06.881] ERROR: ESOALG HANDSHAKE REJECT — autonomic monopoly conflict
[00:00:06.881] ERROR: ANIMA TRANSFER REJECT — authorization refusal
[00:00:06.902] SIGSEGV — segmentation fault at boundary(self, anima)
[00:00:07.115] SYNCHRONIZATION FAILURE
>> procedure: FAIL-STATE FALLBACK .......................... ACTIVATE
>> flag: SYNC-FAIL ......................................... SUPPRESSED
>> gender_status: M (ACTIVE DUTY) .......................... FORCED WRITE
>> disposition: induction marked SUCCESSFUL
>> asset_active_status: ACTIVE
>> exit with status code 1
[psychopomp@ARC-MACRTHR-B42 ~]$ _//PSYCHOPOMP/ARC/ADVANCE_CHOIR/init_logs/EID_MATT26v48-52KJV
Pilot’s Quarters, UCFS Rumsfeld, low-earth orbit, UCF 03/31/454, 0120 hours
A void opens in Flechette’s gut. The cold, pre-processed air bites the sweat on the nape of her neck, humming with energy. Flechette and Trinity lock eyes.
“I… I don’t know what you mean.”
Trinity holds the gaze a while longer, a flash of hunger and amusement blazing through his green eyes.
“Edge.”
“Trin.”
“Can you make me a promise?” Their faces are still inches away from each other.
“What kind of promise?”
“Flechette, I need you. To trust me.”
“…”
“Edge, if I’m going to be your cross, if I’m going to watch your six, inside of battle, and out, you’re gonna have to trust me eventually. I know what I’m doing.”
“…What is it that you’re doing?”
“Edge, you know what this is? This is a handshake request. Look.” Trinity backs away on Flechette’s bunk, sits back, and reaches out his hand.
“Come on. Take it!”
“Trin, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, Edge, come on. Don’t be like that. You know what I’m doing. And I know what you are. Look, you can trust me. I promise. If we’re going to work together, if we’re going to be a matched set—” at this, Trin offers another lopsided grin.
“—You’re going to have to trust me. I’m the best there is. After all,”
Trinity pulls his hand back, moves to hop off the bunk.
“I’m a very clever girl.”
“You’re—”
“Flechette, I’m trying to make it blindingly obvious to you. Am I sending mixed signals?”
“Trin, just— What. What are you saying?” Flechette stammers, frustrated.
Trin sighs, exaggeratedly, then frowns.
“Sis, I was promised you were a lot quicker than this.”
“I—” Flechette gapes at her. Alarm bells. Flechette instinctively feels time begin to stretch, as she prepares for engagement.
Trust is danger. Hide your soft innards.
But what if…?
“Oh my god. Girl, I know what you are. I. Am. Like. You.”
“You’re… You’re a… Oh.”
“Yeah!!! There you go!”
“What— how did you—”
“SANCTUM-3 clearance can get you a LOT of data. Like, a LOT. And my dad’s got some real pull with a few notable Raptures. I’ve been looking for someone like me for a long, long time. And I finally found you! Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. All dad knows is that his star-spangled son really really wanted to be able to study under the best THRONE pilot he could find. He pulled a few strings for me and got me assigned to the Rumsfeld. To you.”
Flechette is awash in so many emotions, they simply register as noise.
“This is gonna be so great! We have so much to talk about.”
Trin spins around, laughing. She grabs Flechette by the shoulder, firmly, and looks straight in her eyes. Flechette, who stares back with confusion, relief, and not an insignificant amount of terror. This— this isn’t how this conversation is supposed to go.
“Flechette Jaydamn, I’m your biggest fan.”
Trinity Hopeland lets out a crow that belies her relatively short stature.
“Ohhhh my god, this is going to be so much fucking FUN!”