>>6003080The ride back is silent, everyone looking off in their own direction. Whenever you met Yoshimitsu's gaze, it's been full of blatant disdain. The only sound is the APV bouncing off uneven cobble. After a minute or two of painful quietude, Arsi offered some small praise. "Well, we found the way they bring supplies and <span class="mu-i">some</span> aberrations into the underground. I doubt this is their only one, but still. This can be of use. We can observe what's coming in, and if something is too dangerous, get rid of it before it becomes a problem... This is an accomplishment. Good work. And good call."
You were holding your sheathed flamberge, slumped up against the wall of the armored vehicle's interior. The fact that you did get something done brought a slight smile to your face. You brought the sword a little closer and cling to it close. It's not exactly comfortable, but it is comforting. Like cradling a wine bottle, holding it close to your chest. It isn't someone, but it is something.
"Oh, and Jarnafeldt. L3 Eugen had talked to me. She wanted to speak with you. She's broken some new ground. She requested you."
... Finally. Some progress. Obviously, if it turns out she's found something conclusive, and you're in on the team putting an end to it, it'll look good for you.
But for some reason you're not really thinking about that.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alCtsl65y3oNo, when you finally sit down and don't have to worry about trolls and thugs in the trees and underground, you finally have the time to sit down and think about mama.
On a long journey around the cold, cold north. You heard in ancient times there were machines high in the sky. They could have been used for just about everything. Feeding radio. Taking pictures. Real time global communication. But, MNP doesn't want to launch satellites, do they? Or fly planes. Helicopters barely get off the ground. No, they would rather life be the old fashioned way.
Your mama spent over fifteen years charting the arctic... because they refused to launch a satellite.
There's a part of you that wants to say something you can't say out loud. Most days that part of you is easy to kill. There's a reason. The complications of doing something the long way are worth not bringing that awful thing back into existence. A rocket is only so different from a missile, you're sure they would tell you. That's a reasonable way to justify it to everyone. To yourself. Like how you didn't need many lightbulbs in your hometown. Sunlight worked for thousands of years. Even if it was a shady village swarmed by giant trees, you didn't need to be so greedy with light bulbs. For most of human history has been without the lightbulb and has been worth living. You could believe that. Most days, you can suspend your disbelief in how things are run and accept its simplicity.
But this is not one of those days.
Today, you hug your sword, and imagine it were someone they don't want you to have.