<banana> There's an edge to the atmosphere, but you're on the right side of it.
<banana> Dirt Cool excuses himself to go and do CIA things; he remains disturbed by the involvement of the White House in this whole affair. What's the world coming to?
<Crion> Some dumb bullshit.
<Crion> Cleaner is interested in Dirt Cool's parallel chain of command, but that's a dog he can let lie.
<banana> That leaves Cleaner, Henrik and Cynthia with three of the other Project mages and a few support staff in the anonymous soundstage building, waiting for the call.
<Crion> Might even lick his hand if he's careful enough.
<VoxPVoxD> I heard on the radio this morning that this is the dawning of the age of aquarius.
<banana> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0bcRCCg01I
<Crion> Can't believe everything that thing tells you.
<Crion> Especially if it's hooked up to Dispatch.
<banana> The instrument room is full of electronic whining as Manhunter fiddles with the equipment. He's quiet, sneer gone for now. Laborer waits in the doorway to the studio unable or unwilling to fully enter the room, and Fieldmouse is still trying to talk Cynthia into explaining investigative magics. Anything rather than think about the radio.
<Crion> Cleaner stands by the door. Hinge side.
<Crion> It opens too quick, you know there's a soft target on the other side of one and a half inches of wood.
<VoxPVoxD> What's the condition of the radio?
<banana> There are only two sleepers present, which might be two too many - Susan Eckert, a mathematician of some sort, and the studio's sound guy to whom you haven't been introduced. Is anyone objecting to that? You could always wipe their minds later.
<Crion> So much fun to be the guy who has to plan how to kill people coming through the door.
<banana> Henrik David examines the altered radio. There's a spell hanging uselessly off its unattached modules; normally, this setup is designed to connect to a complex of wave-redirection enchantments hanging halfway between here and, presumably, Houston.
<banana> Manhunter's done some form of emergency surgery to retune it; nearby antennas, enormous structures that you saw on the way in, have been aligned with where the spacecraft actually is.
<banana> The redirection spell has Lewis's fingerprints all over it, incidentally - when you focus on it the snaps and pops of the equipment coalesce into finger-snapping and a wail of guitar.
<Crion> Show-off.
<VoxPVoxD> That distortion effect is so unpleasant.
<Crion> Mudra's probably pressing down a fake pedal on his guitar.
<banana> Laborer: "Three minutes. They'll be expecting Mission Control, but they know us - do we fake Texan or keep up the black ops routine?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "I don't give a shit."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Who are we coordinating with in Houston?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "Which is to say I'll defer to my comrade."
<banana> Manhunter: "Could you save the bravado, sheriff?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "Deputy."
<banana> Laborer: "There isn't a full pylon there. We don't have enough people at the Space Center, so our recordings go to the real mission controllers."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik's eyebrows go up. Not even a whole Pylon at mission control? What kind of a slapdash operational cul-de-sac is this?
<banana> Laborer straightens herself off the inside of the door, watching Henrik's face. She's quite tall, so she has to take a step into the instrument room while continuing: "I've been told that Houston is dangerous for us. There are strong.. enemy forces, the Atlantis cult."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Talk less, Manhunter. Look more. You'll seem less of a dumbass that way."
<banana> Cleaner's been watching the civilians and reading the org charts, so he's picked up what's going on here. Eckert and the other guy, the one with a cigarette, they're candidates for recruitment.
<Crion> He's not looking at Manhunter while he says this.
<Crion> He's moved on.
<banana> From what Di- from what Kyle mentioned earlier, they're both on the Agency payroll, government side of the operation - but they're the ones the Pyramid is contemplating bringing into the organisation. Right now they're at a stage of seemingly casual exposure to mysteries and truths, offhand-mentioned arcana, intensely monitored to see how they react. Both Manhunter and Fieldmouse are keeping an eye on them with different forms of mage sight.
<Crion> From what Dirt Cool mentioned earlier.
<banana> Yes.
<Crion> They're not so familiar.
<banana> Come on though.
<Crion> He'll think that guy's a dumbass later.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Has Aningan been in contact with the pilots before?"
<banana> Since Cleaner's not watching Manhunter anymore, he misses a look of real contempt. The asian Seer emerges from behind the wall of radio gear and turns up a knob on the microphone, quietly picking up headsets to hand out.
<Crion> He doesn't miss anything.
<banana> Laborer: "Yes, they know us as 'CIA or something'. They're aware that they have to hang out on the ground and just hope, although I mean."
<banana> Fieldmouse: "That's how hope works, right? Sometimes it pans out!"
<Crion> So there's two of these Sleepers. And everyone here, Cleaner included, is talking openly around them. That says something.
<Crion> Cleaner will walk over to the closest one. What do they look like?
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "We should maintain that pretense. It would multiply our disadvantage to add a falsifiable lie to an unfalsifiable lie."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Not wrong."
<Crion> He's keeping an eye on the braintrust, too. Henrik David's smarter than all of them, but he's a Ruskie. They might need convincing to listen.
<banana> The closest is the guy, who's savvy enough to introduce himself when one of the weird important people walks up. "Blomberg." Blomberg's got a lit cigarette, looks like a Camel, and a smoking jacket. He's thirties, about the same height as you, with a ruddy complexion and brown eyes. Looks like he's trying to be quiet and take things in. Earlier you saw him in the other room with a microphone in one meaty hand, recording short sound samples for Laborer using props and voice.
<Crion> Cleaner will shake hand if he offers it. If he doesn't, he'll offer his hand. "Deputy Wayne Barrett."
<Crion> Cleaner will shake hand if he offers it. If he doesn't, he'll offer his hand. "Deputy Wayne Barrett."
<Crion> Cleaner will shake his hand if he offers it. If he doesn't, he'll offer his hand. "Deputy Wayne Barrett."
<Crion> Cleaner's got an unlit Chesterfield 101 hanging from the side of his mouth.
<banana> The Operations Pylon people nod to Henrik. Only Manhunter's actually put a headset on- he's offering spares to the rest of you, though Laborer in particular seems set to decline.
<Crion> Does Blomberg offer a light?
<banana> Not if he isn't asked. You've noticed that a lot of people around KSC don't smoke, maybe because of the rockets and industrial whatsits going on?
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik will take a headset, but if possible he'll turn the mic up away from his face. He can't be heard on the line. The American pilots might be gullible, but a Russian accent on the line would give precisely the wrong impression.
<banana> He shakes, though. "Good to meet you, sir. Heck of a business."
<banana> A light comes on on the radio, then another. A whole line of them.
<Crion> Then after they shake, Cleaner pulls out a lighter and takes a deep drag. He exhales into the back wall instead of Blomberg's face.
<Crion> "Hell," says the deputy. "You mean hell."
<Crion> Cleaner's got a headset, but it's around his neck instead of over his ears.
<Crion> He snaps the lighter closed, and pockets it. https://imgur.com/a/duG8u
<banana> Blomberg: "I'd have to wash my mouth out with smoke." He looks oddly at the peace sign on the lighter- not quite what he expected, at least on this coast.
<Crion> Cleaner:"We will anyway."
<Crion> Cleaner:"We will anyway."
<banana> Fieldmouse puts a headset on and manages to sit still. Manhunger pulls over a notepad for transcribing. The radio flashes and crackles, and then:
<banana> *manhunter.
<Crion> Cleaner: "We will anyway."
<banana> "Ground Control, this is Scott. Are you hearing me? Scott over."
<banana> Manhunter closes his eyes. Everyone else goes silent. The voice sounds.. normal.
<banana> Especially for someone a hundred thousand miles away.
<banana> "Scott here in the LM, stars keeping us company. Is anyone picking up today? Over."
<Crion> Cleaner turns back to the people running the show. "Someone should get that."
<Crion> To Blomberg: "You smoke Camels. That's forward-thinking."
<banana> Manhunter: "Daniel here. You've got Kennedy, Scott. Over."
<banana> A brief pause. "Expected a different Ground Control, Ground Control. But we're happy to report in. Good to finally get the frequencies lined up, over."
<Crion> Cleaner tries to make eye contact with Henrik David.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik looks up.
<banana> Manhunter: "We're sticking to the plan for now, David. Great to hear from you on this end, though-" he waves around the room and a few cheers go up loud enough to be picked up by the mics. Laborer is moving closer, almost unwillingly.
<banana> "Sorry about the miss yesterday." He doesn't elaborate. "What's your status up there?"
<banana> David Scott: "That depends, Chun. Up where?" A chuckle. "Status report for days five through six - we're amazed to be here. Experiments are doing great. Experiencing some fatigue and heartburn from the shitty food."
<Crion> Cleaner points at him and quirks the right corner of his mouth.
<banana> "As we speak I can see all the nations of the world and the real stars. Trying to pick out Florida by the swamps and the shape of the coast. Over."
<banana> Eckert looks like she badly wants a headset rather than hearing half of this conversation. Laborer's is still going unused, but nobody's offering it to the sleeper.
<banana> Manhunter: "That must be a hell of a view. Didn't you ever look through a telescope before? Over."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik coughs, covering his mouth to hide the smirk that flies over his face. The transmission wipes it away quick, though. There was food in the capsule?
<Crion> Cleaner turns away. What's Blomberg say in response to the cigarette bullshit?
<banana> Blomberg: "I picked up the taste from my Paw- he had them in the first war. They used to hand out so many you'd forget you were in the Army."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Well that's fucked up. But it's a good bloodline," the deputy says, still looking at Blomberg. "Good continuity."
<Crion> How's he react to cusses?
<banana> "Sure, but you don't exactly get the same picture. Wish we had an amateur photographer on board- Commander McDivitt's coming on the line, over."
<banana> Fieldmouse, mic covered: "What's going on? Why didn't they call in five days ago?"
<VoxPVoxD> What are they seeing?
<banana> Laborer: "They're awfully calm about talking to us instead of Houston."
<banana> Manhunter: "Acknowledged. Is that you, James? Daniel and Ambrose here on the Cape, over."
<banana> Blomberg is trying to split his attention between Cleaner and the people at the radio. "Well.. thanks. I'll pass it along."
<banana> "McDivitt. Do you have any of the boys from the suit lab there? I need to give 'em plaudits for the design of these things. We're alive, we've been out of the spacecraft and we're alive nonetheless. Over!"
<Crion> Cleaner: "To whom?"
<banana> Fieldmouse: "Ellis and the team will be delighted. Hearing their space-age fabric deserves the name now."
<banana> Laborer: "..over."
<banana> Fieldmouse: "Over."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik takes his headset off. He motions for Cleaner to put his headset on and then motions to Manhunter's notepad. Make sure he doesn't leave anything out of the transcript. "I am going to the receiver," he says softly before departing.
<Crion> Cleaner reaches down and pulls up the headseat over one ear.
<banana> "Sorry to take over the statrep, but we're all stir-crazy talking to each other up here. I'll have to put Rusty on before the end, and the other guy."
<Crion> He's still smoking a cigarette at Blomberg, who didn't answer his question.
<banana> "18:10 universal time, Apollo 9, halfway between Earth and everywhere. Observations follow." The commander begins running rapidly through the progress of several small scientific experiments they were to conduct.
<banana> Henrik's outside on the warm tarmac - this part of the base is all paved. He can see the big antennas, no longer revolving on their dais. Electromagnetic waves bounce back and forth, encoding human information.
<VoxPVoxD> On the way out he gets a pad and pencil from his briefcase. The heat of the day makes the air outside vibrate, radio signals cutting through the thermal impressions like a blade through muscles. Where, where, where is the Transmitter 4?
<banana> It's not that much harder to watch the signal here, read the meaning out of it, than it was to physically listen.
<banana> After a few minutes, Manhunter breaks in. "Commander, rewind a little - we're missing the external observations. How are your extra-atmospheric stellar exposures? Over."
<banana> Henrik does the math, and the numbers add up.
<banana> By the alignment of the antenna and his observation of the actual signals - adjusted for atmospheric bounce - this transmission is coming from a slowly moving point more than twenty thousand miles above.
<VoxPVoxD> Strong enough to be a direct signal rather than bounced off a satellite?
<banana> "We might have to throw those exposures away, Ground Control. Something's wrong with the zodiac. Over."
<Crion> He's still smoking a cigarette at Blomberg, who didn't answer his question.
<banana> It's strong enough to be consistent with the hardware they should have up there (shouldn't have had, but whatever).
<banana> Blomberg is extremely distracted by the radio drama, but gathers himself. "Oh- to my Paw back home, unless you'd rather otherwise. Times like these, it's good for men who served to hear some people appreciate it."
<Crion> What's the other Sleeper look like?
<Crion> To Blomberg: "You're goddamn right. Where'd you serve?"
<banana> Manhunter: "Plenty of other stars in the sky, right? We've got people eager to take a look at whatever you've got."
<banana> "Over."
<banana> "There really aren't, Ground Control."
<VoxPVoxD> Still slightly unsatisfied, Henrik returns to the studio and takes up a headset.
<banana> "Could be anything beyond that wall of horoscopes, an unlimited depth of blackness. Starfields we saw must be projected past them, like Doppler and the prism effect combined. Over."
<banana> Manhunter toggles off his mic with a shaking hand. He looks lost.
<Crion> God dammit.
<banana> Blomberg: "Just the reserves, sir. My number's nearly come up a few times.."
<Crion> Cleaner: "So you served here."
<Crion> "In America."
<Crion> "No shame in that, I suppose."
<banana> Fieldmouse: "McDivitt, are you saying your observations are inconsistent with ground-based astronomy?"
<Crion> Cleaner's mouth spreads wide in a grin without feeling. "Better than being over there in the South Chinese shit, huh?"
<Crion> Manhunter's fucking up.
<Crion> Do we need another voice on the wire?
<banana> "It's the other way around, Ground Control. Over."
<banana> Manhunter: "Elaborate? Could be one for the history books, over."
<banana> Cleaner was watching the other sleeper too, Eckert - she's got red hair and almost exactly the same style of dress Cynthia had when you last saw her. Not doing anything to draw attention to herself.
<Crion> Then she's the smart one.
<Crion> Cleaner will slap Blomberg on the back, grin again, and grab him by the shoulders in a quick brace. But not an embrace. Then he'll walk over to Eckert. Not all the way over. He'll stop ten feet away and finish his cigarette.
<Crion> Here's the money question: does Blomberg follow?
<banana> "McDivitt elaborating by request. The zodiac signs form a wall, and it's not the signs we know - they're cutting us off, replacing glory. Passenger says it's an improvement and none of us can disagree. On EVA we see mostly by the light of Earth, sun reflecting into our eyes and glancing off the craft. Wish everyone could see these sights, over."
<banana> Laborer: "Jesus Christ."
<banana> Fieldmouse turns his mic off to tell her, "No."
<Crion> Cleaner says nothing.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik clears his throat gently; anyone initiated into Forces or Prime and properly trained can see a white tattoo sketch itself into being at the base of his throat. "Copy that. How many signs are there, over?" comes Manhunter's voice.
<Crion> You just need to bring these boys down.
<Crion> Nice.
<banana> Manhunter: "-" He recognises his own voice, defers.
<Crion> To Manhunter: "You don't need to speak."
<banana> Quietly: "Later, Cleaner."
<Crion> Cleaner: "You're not in control here."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik snaps his fingers and points at the door. If you want to fight, do it outside.
<banana> McDivitt: "There are only eleven visible from our orbit. The exposures aren't so good, but we've made drawings of the phenomenon. Frankly, Ground Control, everything about this is phenomenal."
<VoxPVoxD> Eleven?
<Crion> Cleaner: "What happens later happens later. But I trust this man with your voice. I don't trust you. And until I'm informed otherwise by your boss, that matters."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Copy that, Apollo. Eleven instead of twelve? Over."
<Crion> It's dirt cool that he has a headseat without a mic.
<VoxPVoxD> He doesn't say, eleven instead of ten?
<banana> "That's so, by a trick of the light or a truth of the world. Could be the new ration formula has us hallucinating, Ground Control, but being up here- it's the most sane I've ever felt."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Roger. Do you think you could get the SSTV operational? Ground Control would love to see what you're seeing, over."
<banana> "Can do, Kennedy. We'll switch to narrowband in a minute and terminate the report - moving out of radio range soon, but there should be time to transmit a while."
<banana> "Let me just put Rusty on, if this is his only chance to hear a fourth voice for today."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Much appreciated, Apollo. Any parting words for the boys on the ground?"
<Crion> Cleaner, to the room: "This isn't about being good people. This is about results. Do your damn jobs."
<Crion> Then he turns to Eckert.
<banana> Fieldmouse, re: Henrik: "He's good at that, it's true."
<banana> "Kennedy, it's such a damn privilege to be here - of course on the books it's the second spaceflight for Scott and me. But to see this for real, feel the weightlessness and stand on the outside of our world - I just want to give thanks to the American people."
<banana> Manhunter, his mic now off: "..fourth..?" He makes notes.
<banana> "Schweickart here. I've got messages from the other boys for our families, if you've got a minute to take them down, over."
<Crion> He's finished his cigarette by now. To Susan Eckert: "I'm a sheriff's deputy. Wayne Barrett. I'm out of my depth here. What are you doing in this room?"
<banana> Eckert: "Feeling like history is being made. All I do here is the numbers - Susan, by the way. It's amazing to see what they get used for."
<banana> "Of course the rockets were more visually impressive, but to think that we're really talking to men halfway to the moon.."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Roger that, Schweickart. At your ready, over."
<banana> Russell Schweickart reads out three brief heartfelt messages. They're mostly personal but make some fairly poetic allusions to the grandeur of space, eliding the logistic inconvenienes of being up there.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Strong copy, Apollo. God protect you. Kennedy out."
<banana> Fieldmouse smiles, looks like he's about to say something, then glances at Cleaner and doesn't."
<VoxPVoxD> Are the TVs in here?
<banana> "Switching the signal to SSTV in twenty from my mark. Apollo out."
<Crion> Cleaner: "That's a funny word. Used."
<banana> Just the one, and Manhunter's scrambling to swivel it around. Laborer hurries over to turn some sort of dial.
<Crion> Cleaner: "So you're with NASA."
<banana> Eckert: "Is it?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "That's what I said."
<Crion> He lights up another Chesterfield 101.
<Crion> Same lighter.
<banana> Eckert's not looking at it. She doesn't seem too thrilled by the conversation, actually- you catch Blomberg shaking his head. A warning to Cleaner?
<VoxPVoxD> When the line goes dead, Henrik's got the headset off and shakes the spell free from his throat. In his own voice he says to the sleeper Cleaner's done working: "What is your clearance?"
<Crion> Warning about what.
<VoxPVoxD> Blomberg? Is that his name? Henrik's talking to Blomberg.
<banana> Blomberg: "S/FRD T3, field services."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "I need you and her out of the room."
<banana> Eckert stands, Blomberg nods. They're both making haste for the door.
<banana> Susan looks both disappointed and relieved. Blomberg's less of an expressionhaver in the first place.
<Crion> Cleaner: "Y'all sit the fuck down."
<banana> Manhunter: "Oh for fuck's sake."
<Crion> To Manhunter: "Shut the fuck up."
<Crion> To the Sleepers: "Get going."
<Crion> To Manhunter: "So what did this teach you."
<banana> The sleepers pause, look worried, leave. EVERYONE looks worried. Manhunter says: "What is your problem? You personally, 'Deputy Wayne Barrett'. You can't keep up this shit about getting the job done professionally while trying to stir shit at every possible opportunity." The television comes on.
<banana> Fieldmouse: "Maybe it's not-" Manhunter: "Ambrose."
<Crion> To the Sleepers: "Get going."
<Crion> To Manhunter: "So what did this teach you."
<VoxPVoxD> Once they're gone, Henrik's eyes are locked on the screen. Without looking away he says to Laborer: "When is the next scheduled transmission?"
<VoxPVoxD> Actually since he doesn't look at Laborer I guess it's formally an open question.
<banana> Laborer: "Twelve hours from now, then the same interval for the next four days."
<banana> Manhunter kind of boggles at the repeated question, and he's probably about to keep talking- but then a grainy black and white image full of scanlines comes hissing into the screen.
<Crion> To Manhunter: "You want to talk to me about profressionalism, do your damn job even once."
<Crion> "Or meet me outside."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "All of you need to see this."
<banana> Laborer and Fieldmouse look kind of scared of Cleaner right now but they're happy to look at the screen.
<Crion> Cleaner steps forward.
<banana> The camera is attached to the outside of Command Module and rotates slowly with the spacecraft's drift. They're not perfectly aligned, but one by one you see the constellations drift past.
<banana> The only stars in the sky.
<banana> Some of them are half-visible, some are faint. They're Seals written in stars with as much complexity and resolution as you've ever seen to the pseudo-High Speech that is the name or shape or form of the Exarchs who rule the Fallen World.
<VoxPVoxD> "Yes. But what is the eleventh?"
<VoxPVoxD> He's talking to the television.
<banana> Brightest of all, for some reason, are the loops and spikes that form the Eye. The next six throb and twist, less familiar than the symbols you're familiar with - in far lesser form - on paperwork and amulets and incorporated 'cleverly' into colleagues' personal emblems.
<Crion> To Henrik David: "How many Seals?"
<Crion> "All of them?"
<VoxPVoxD> "Plus one. They said they saw eleven signs of the Zodiac."
<banana> Manhunter: "I've seen this one somewhere before."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Fuck."
<banana> So have you, of course. Just a part of it, a distinctly identifiable portion of the whole.
<Crion> Jesus fuck Christ fuck burn fucking God in fucking Hell.
<banana> The star-formed rune of what you must assume (against all hope and according to all rumour) to be the Gate incorporates the very symbol you've been discussing recently.
<banana> The camera rotates, slowly. Laborer watches utterly rapt; the others look away. Halfway through the second iteration of the Seals the signal ends.
<Crion> Cleaner looks over at Henrik David.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Is this being recorded? Who else has access to this feed?"
<banana> Manhunter: "No. Nobody."
<banana> "I mean, amateur operators.. ham people don't have the video equipment. Mostly."
<banana> "They wouldn't know to- nobody expects a signal from space to here. Maybe around Houston."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik looks up at Cleaner and then to the others. "We are all going to meet with Underoracle Lewis immediately."
<VoxPVoxD> "Then we will report to the Tetrarch directly."
<Crion> Cleaner draws his left thumb across his chin, disturbing his beard. It doesn't look like he's making a throat-slitting motion. It just looks like he's grooming. But Henrik David gets the news.
<VoxPVoxD> "We will speak of this to no one else. No one of a lower rank. No one in Operations. Until the Tetrarch has cleared it personally."
<banana> Fieldmouse: "Yes."
<banana> Laborer: "Yup."
<banana> Manhunter: "Okay."
<Crion> Cleaner: "That comes with official stamp."
<banana> Laborer: "They're real. It's all real."
<Quaker_> Orient sits at his desk in the MKWOMBAT offices, slowly making his way through a series of reports forwarded from Lewis’s office about the reports of espionage, themselves forwarded by the Tetrarch’s secretary.
<banana> Dirt Cool was in earlier, briefly- he had to go on investigative business, but seemed amenable to your plan to drop his mindshield for some examinations. "Let me know when you've got time and place." was the latest.
<Crion> Cleaner will walk out from the room, to the nearest secretary, and commandeer her phone. He dial a number that ends up in Orient's office.
<banana> It's not long before you're back in the wood-paned office inside KSC's bowels. A pair of airmen have just finished delivering a report to 'Captain Michaelson.' He salutes as they depart, turns to the arriving Seers, makes it ironic.
<Crion> When Orient answers: "Get here."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik looks around. This room is soundproofed, yes? Lewis is powerful and sensible enough to have seen to that, surely.
<Crion> To Henrik David: "We need runes?"
<banana> It is, as Orient discovered yesterday- audio simply stops at the walls.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "No need."
<Crion> Cleaner nods.
<banana> The three members of Operations Pylon are nervously crowded into a corner, standing room only. Lewis raises his eyebrows as more and more people pile in, stands and moves his desk backward a little to accomodate.
<Quaker_> He rolls a pencil between thumb and forefinger. If ‘Dirt Cool’ is an Adept of Mind, then of course merely dropping the shield will not be enough. There may be altered memories. His thoughts drift to the meeting with - the phone rings. Afterwards, he checks the revolver in his coat pocket. He’ll bring the G3 in a duffel bag, just in case.
<Quaker_> When he arrives, it’s slung over his shoulder. “Yes?”
<Crion> Cleaner pulls out his gun, then presses it against his left leg.
<Crion> To Orient: "Welcome to the suck."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik will hold the door open for Orient and close it behind him. "We have just received the transmission from Apollo."
<banana> All the firearms don't help with the space problem. Lewis is practically sitting up against the other door, though he's being patient about it. Laborer is asking questions of doctrine in a low voice, nothing pertinent.
<banana> She goes quiet when the meeting starts, of course.
<banana> Lewis steeples his fingers and looks up at everyone. "Unfortunate."
<VoxPVoxD> "Everyone is alive and well. Suits work. The food is bad. The stars are wrong."
<Quaker_> Orient’s eyebrow raises at Cleaner. To Henrik: “How so?”
<banana> Lewis: "Celestial spheres? Flat Earth?"
<VoxPVoxD> "The pilots have visual apprehension of constellations in space. They were able to transmit narrowband footage."
<VoxPVoxD> "The constellations resemble the Iron Seals in full fidelity."
<Crion> Which three members?
<VoxPVoxD> "All eleven of them."
<VoxPVoxD> "Get the Tetrarch."
<Crion> Are we still missing Dirt Cool and Trajan?
<banana> The same people who were present for the radio - Laborer, Manhunter, Fieldmouse. Fieldmouse says: "The world is a prison. They were a wall."
<Crion> We are.
<Crion> Cleaner shrugs at Orient.
<banana> Lewis: "Balls. I don't think we can fit him in here.."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Do you have a larger room?"
<Crion> To Lewis: "Suggest a venue."
<banana> "There's a chamber in the safehouse. Down in Port Canaveral - facilities for remote viewing and communication, space, ritual workings. Let's see, what kind of urgency are we on.."
<Crion> Cleaner: "The safehouse."
<banana> Lewis: "Is that an opinion or a comment?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "Yes."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Your safehouse is compromised."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Your safehouse has been compromised."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Unless you want me to disbelieve the Praetorians and, Lewis, you don't have that currency."
<banana> Lewis: "That's the claim, but- anyway. You three." This is to Operations. "Stay nearby and we'll call you in if we need to. Don't even think about this outside the office."
<Crion> "Yes."
<Crion> "That's the claim."
<Crion> To the Operations Pylon: "We'll be watching."
<banana> Manhunter: "I'll stay, boss. I was on the line to start and there are a few points which might be useful."
<Quaker_> Orient: “No.”
<Crion> To Manhunter: "Seems you've been overruled."
<VoxPVoxD> To Manhunter: "Please brief us now, before you go."
<VoxPVoxD> To Fieldmouse: "The security of Operations Pylon is your responsibility. If there is a breach, we will be talking to you first."
<Crion> Cleaner smiles. "But not only."
<Quaker_> Orient: “After you have debriefed us, I’m afraid that you will not leave with this memory. Any of you three. I will keep a copy of all of their perspectives in the moment of discovery.”
<banana> Manhunter: "Fine. There was something else in the conversation: bizarre mentions of a 'passenger'. Hearing a 'fourth' rather than a 'third' extra voice. I think something's in the spacecraft with them."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "A passenger would be the fifth voice, wouldn't it? The three Apollo pilots and you are four voices already."
<banana> Laborer seems distressed at the mention of memories. She doesn't actually say anything, though.
<banana> Manhunter: "There shouldn't be any 'passengers' on an Apollo mission, though. All of them were acting fucking weird."
<Crion> It would be unfortunate if she ended up on the wrong side of this.
<Crion> But a lot of things would be unfortunate.
<banana> Fieldmouse nods to Henrik and Orient. He seems less upset than the other two- nervous, but he always is.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "That is true. They were speaking oddly. I was out of the studio briefly to verify the telemetry by hand."
<VoxPVoxD> Where are Manhunter's notes?
<banana> He's brought them - a transcript in a neat hand, and no adornments.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "May I?" He half reaches for the notes.
<Crion> Cleaner stares Manhunter down.
<banana> Manhunter hands them over, repeating: "I think there was someone else in the spacecraft. Keep that deduction in your stripped copy." This is to Orient.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik reads the notes. Are there mentions of a 'passenger'?
<Crion> Cleaner: "If so, then they should be in the module that returns to earth."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Unless we are truly beyond the fucking pale."
<VoxPVoxD> Without looking up: "We should find out if they were in the rocket at launch."
<VoxPVoxD> "No one should have been, but then no one should have been."
<banana> There's one 'passenger' and one 'the other guy'.. most suspicious is probably this line from James McDivitt: "Passenger says it's an improvement and none of us can disagree. "
<Crion> Cleaner wheels on Lewis: "Henrik David is correct."
<Crion> "Do we have footage?"
<banana> Lewis: "Of the launch? Yes."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Of the door."
<Crion> "Of the entry into the craft."
<banana> "Orient, get their memories quickly, please. Everyone, keep your shield down. I'm contacting Tetrarch Scorpion."
<Quaker_> Orient puts a hand on Laborer’s shoulder. “If you knew any more about what you saw, you would ask me to remove it for you. It is not a loss to lose this,” he says, quietly.
<Crion> "I could walk half a mile away, break three windows and find someone who has filmed the launch."
<banana> Lewis: "I got a report from Cynthia, who looked at the craft entry. Three of them went in."
<Crion> Tetrarch Scorpion.
<Crion> Fucking Christ.
<banana> Laborer: "It's.. proof of faith. I've never seen anything like it before. Knowing."
<banana> Lewis leans back in his chair, fiddling with something in a desk drawer. His uniform ruffles slightly as if passed over by an invisible wind. Henrik recognises - why does he recognise this, now? - the presence of Spirit magic.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik finishes reading Manhunter's notes carefully, before licking his thumb to turn the page. When he does, everyone who sees the turned page might as well be looking at a child's idea of alien calculus.
<Quaker_> Orient: “You won’t miss it.” And he makes sure that none of them even know that there is anything to miss.
<Quaker_> The substitute is simply an indistinct blend of office busywork. Nothing they have not done a hundred times before.
<banana> The three junior Seers file out, looking a little dazed. Laborer doesn't appear saddened anymore.
<Crion> Cleaner watches Henrik David work for a moment, frowns, then leans back against the wall with a quiet smile.
<banana> One thing of note: Manhunter had been planning to stay back after the meeting, report to Lewis- complaints about Cleaner. That's gone, now, leaving him only vaguely antagonistic instead of seriously upset.
<banana> Whether Orient keeps the memories of what he was going to complain about and why is up to him.
<Crion> Is Manhunter still alive?
<Crion> Yes?
<Crion> Then this is going well.
<banana> Lewis: "We need to get to the roof, then back here. Ready?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "Let's go."
<banana> The Obrimos - the Obrimos who isn't Henrik - leads you rapidly up a maintenance stair, past some cramped piping, out into public areas where clerks are making phone calls and doing filing, then up a wider stairwell onto the roof of the Vehicle Assembly Centre.
<Quaker_> Manhunter’s perspective is not surprising. Few deal well with changes that leave you feeling powerless, or sudden demands of accountability. But it’s in the morning’s memories, so it comes out. Orient shoulders his rifle. “Yes.”
<banana> It's very high up! The top of the blocky building has guardrails, but you can still see long way, out to the ocean and the river, out over the launch pads (one still being cleaned of its scorchmarks..)
<banana> Lewis watches the sky to the northwest.
<Crion> Well.
<Crion> All of this is a little fucked up. Or a lot fucked up.
<banana> "I can hide most of the traces of his passing. Orient, could you ensure nobody nearby is taking notice? Cleaner- please keep this rooftop physically clean."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Yup."
<banana> He doesn't discuss what you saw. Not up here.
<Quaker_> Orient removes it from the notice of the facility.
<banana> There's a movement in the air, or behind it. Something enormous is hurtling through the sky.
<VoxPVoxD> By reflex, Henrik shields his eyes.
<Crion> Well, shit.
<banana> Nothing visible flies up to the building, but the air moves in great quantity - and Lewis takes a step back as enormous footprints, several of them, kick up dust and start burning through the roof. There is the hissing of acid.
<VoxPVoxD> What sort of feet? Is the Tetrarch being literal?
<banana> Very large, clawed or hooked, five or six - the thing is shuffling about.
<Crion> Cleaner's .45 is in his hand. This is dumb as shit.
<VoxPVoxD> He is being literal.
<banana> Silver reins become briefly visible. Someone steps out of the Shadow, drops from spiritback.
<banana> Scorpion is an aged black man nearly five feet tall. He wears a tailored arcane robe covered in his own symbol and the signs of every major occult faction within the ministry, as well as an American flag pin. His face is totally calm and unlined (unlike the rest of his skin); his eyes burn with intense intelligence. One of his wrists has been broken and poorly set.
<banana> Lewis, who isn't particularly tall, towers over him.
<Crion> Cleaner doesn't immediately holster his M1911.
<banana> The Tetrarch: "I said you call if you need me, but efficiency demands: this better be good."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "The Apollo astronauts reported back with footage of the eleven Iron Seals and have a passenger."
<banana> Scorpion folds his arms, contemplating.
<Crion> Cleaner: "We are what we are."
<Crion> Shooting stars.
<banana> Visible to Henrik now that he looks closely, the spirit scorpion is vast; Orient and Lewis are standing partly inside of it, which fortunately isn't a problem since it's not physical right now. The thing has mandibles upon mandibles and an ostentatiously glowing stinger.
<VoxPVoxD> One wonders if it's the only one in Georgia.
<Crion> One doesn't have to.
<banana> Scorpion: "Alright. You made a reasonable call."
<Crion> What's that shit they say, about the scorpion and the turtle?
<banana> Lewis: "Do we go up there?"
<banana> Scorpion: "No, you fucking lunatic."
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik breathes in sharply through his nose.
<banana> "Take them out before they reach the ground. Make it known to the black ops people, scare the government off for next mission. Keep it from the public, they need hope alive. Do you have the footage?"
<Crion> Cleaner is just going to find some fucking air conditioning unit and lean against it.
<banana> Lewis: "I don't believe there's a recording. We'll put people on tracking down any radio operators who might have listened in."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Are you taking questions."
<Crion> That's to Scorpion.
<banana> Scorpion: "Briefly." The Tetrarch turns his attention to Cleaner, looking up at him with.. interest? Scrutinising spells of every Arcanum you've heard of bore into your Pattern.
<Crion> Cleaner: "Does that mean now."
<banana> Scorpion: "Ask."
<banana> The enormous spirit scorpion shuffles - burning footprints move on the roof - and cocks its hindquarters near a ventilation shaft. Do spirits.. urinate?
<Crion> "Here it is: do we get reviewed poorly for not recording some thing we weren't asked to record."
<banana> Scorpion: "You do not. The only thing I'd watch, in your position, is the attitude; doing important work correctly will take you a long way, but preemption guised as ironic bullshit wears down that patience. Mine is greater than most of the Tetrarchy but you shouldn't test it."
<banana> "Further questions?" He looks at everyone but Lewis.
<Crion> Cleaner: "That's fine. And no."
<Quaker_> Orient: “Do you plan on continuing this project?”
<banana> Scorpion seems to be enjoying himself. "If the alternative is mankind floating around out there and taking a bunch of pictures of the Iron fucking Seals, then yes. Next question?"
<Crion> Cleaner leans back against the wall nearest to the door, and he stares at Lewis.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Will we be punished if we cut Houston out of the project?"
<banana> Scorpion: "Not if you successfully assume their duties, which are: bamboozling the NASA operation down there and finding out information we need to know up here. Next? It's like an interrogation but without the pain."
<banana> Lewis: "To be clear, you're asking us to kill the astronauts and whoever else might be on board?"
<Crion> There is no such thing as an interrogation without the pain.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Who or whatever."
<Crion> You fuck with it on the front, or you fuck with it on the back.
<banana> Scorpion: "Largely correct, but I'm not asking. 'Kill' here is shorthand for rendering them permanently incapable of communicating their experiences; you know the drill."
<banana> Lewis: "I do."
<Crion> Cleaner: "I do."
<banana> Scorpion: "There's something else I'd like to mention, as we're communicating so well."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Oh?"
<banana> "We serve ten Seals, and if you do your job then ten Seals there are. Malfunctioning television cameras and unreliable eyewitness reports are all temporary situations which can lead to temporary misconceptions."
<banana> "Do not worship the Gate. Do not dream of the Gate. Do not fear the Gate."
<Quaker_> Orient stands still. “With all due respect, honored Tetrarch.”
<banana> Is that a precursor to speaking further?
<Quaker_> It is.
<VoxPVoxD> It occurs to Henrik that here on this rooftop with Cleaner, Orient, Lewis, and Scorpion, he's the only person on the roof who actually wants to be here.
<banana> Scorpion's listening, a kindly smile on his face. His enormous shadow monster is scratching itself on a ventilation duct, twisting and ruining it with a horrid screeching noise.
<VoxPVoxD> No one else is reacting to that, so Henrik is studiously ignoring it. Lot of eyes on the rooftop tar.
<banana> Lewis, who can sometimes be easy to read, is thinking deeply. Formulating some sort of plan.
<VoxPVoxD> That'll help, because history has shown he's really really good at it.
<Quaker_> “There must be a difference of culture at work, or else I would be confused. I do not mean to critique your judgment in anything except the most comradely and helpful manner. But surely we have reached a point where it is too dangerous to proceed. Please authorize the destruction of this program. There are too many points of failure. We cannot ignore these warning signs in good conscience.”
<Quaker_> “Both space programs must be gotten rid of. They profane our commandments. We cannot walk further in a space bearing the sign of the unmentioned seal.”
<Crion> He's not wrong.
<Crion> Cleaner: "If I do my job. Well. Good news: I will do my job."
<banana> Scorpion nods several times, a "your concerns have been noted and taken on board" type of nod. "This program began two years ago, at which point it was given three years. I'll give you a little background."
<Crion> Thanks.
<banana> "There are a number of stakeholders. Inter-organisational arrangements. Cross-disciplinary agreements have been mad.e"
<Crion> Cleaner doesn't say 'Okay.'
<banana> "Good news: the Minister has assured me, personally, that by this time next year it will be feasible to discontinue the appearance of human spaceflight."
<Crion> ...
<banana> Scorpion: "Now if twelve more months of literally 'not doing anything' is too difficult to accomplish then I'm sure we'll be able to find an alternative. Very simple, really."
<Crion> Cleaner chuckles. It's a calculated chuckle.
<banana> "Right." The Tetrarch rubs his hands together briskly. "Thanks for the update. It's possible that this news could have been communicated without dragging me from Hisil, but there was certainly sensitive information involved. I think you made a reasonable call, and if it happens again- we'd have problems, but not because of the timely report! Ha."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Ha."
<Quaker_> “Perhaps it would be sensible to take precautions.”
<banana> Lewis: "Such as?"
<banana> Scorpion, at the same time: "Please do."
<Quaker_> “More Praetorian security. More able specialists. It does not seem like something that we can -“ He doesn’t meet Lewis’s eyes. “-treat as…improvisationally as we have been.”
<Crion> Cleaner: "Absolutely."
<Crion> "That would be a sensible request."
<Crion> He is deadly serious.
<banana> Scorpion: "I'll grant you the authority to pull in people from Orlando and Port Canaveral. Maybe start with the hierodules if you don't want Rattler pissed. But you'll have to work the feds yourselves." He doesn't give a reason why.
<VoxPVoxD> Henrik: "Is Kissinger off-limits to the Ministry?"
<Crion> Thank Christ for Henrik David.
<Crion> ...He probably wouldn't approve.
<banana> "The President's staff are not our concern... except where they intersect with Project Aningan. You can do whatever it takes to prevent or subvert someone's influence over this specific situation.
<banana> Scorpion reaches for a stirrup. "Time to attend to the next vital, collapsing project. Rest assured, things go worse elsewhere."
<Quaker_> Orient: “We will exercise all due discretion in further requests for manpower. Could someone send a summary of available human resources to our offices?”
<Crion> To Scorpion: "What if I kill Hank Kissinger."
<banana> Scorpion: "Lewis, get the man an org chart."
<banana> To Cleaner: "You would be required to prove it necessary to the success of false, apparent human spaceflight. The situation might arise but be sure."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Yes sir." There is no mockery or irony in his voice.
<banana> The nice thing is, the Tetrarch wants to leave and he hasn't cast any zombifying spells at all this time.
<banana> As far as most of you can tell, he's hauling himself into thin air. "Fourfold Watcher's blessings, to the three of you and to Miss Munroe."
<Crion> Cleaner just leans back against the wall.
<banana> The spirit scorpion leaps, gathering itself with arbitrary and invisible muscle and then hurtling into the sky in a single great bound.
<Crion> Fuck ass.
<banana> Its stinger brushes the edge of the roof, dripping a bit of acid glow as a final fuck you to architecture.
<banana> Lewis: "How helpful and reassuring."
<banana> "I guess he's right about the Eleventh Seal? Ignore him. That's all we can do. Ignore her. Forever."
<Quaker_> Orient: “There’s something else.”
<Crion> Cleaner: "Not the worst way that could have gone."
<banana> Wind whistles on the rooftop now that it's not blocked by Scorpion's scorpion's bulk.
<banana> You have to wonder- does Wolverine ride around on an enormous wolverine, and so on?
<Quaker_> Orient shares the glimpsed symbol, and the memory of what happened in the office with Manhunter.
<Quaker_> Er, Trajan. Not Manhunter. Orient wonders why he thought it was Manhunter.
<banana> Lewis: "But I've seen it before. In Cambodia."
<Quaker_> Orient: “I imagine everyone has seen it, somewhere.”
<banana> Lewis shoves his hands in his pockets against the cold of the rooftop. "That would make sense.. if it weren't for the attack. Let's say this is a piece of a.. seal on which we should not speculate. It's part of the fabric of the world, they all are. They made it."
<banana> "So why would someone go after you for trying to get information out of Trajan?"
<banana> Lewis: "I wonder if the sign is a red herring. A coincidence which someone used as an excuse for trying to cover up her dumb, horrible past."
<Quaker_> Orient: “I’m taking the rest of the day off. Send the org chart to my hotel room, please.” He’s already walking back down the steps.
<banana> Lewis: "OK. I'll come up with some way to get the crew out without, you know, slaughtering them all inside the descent capsule."