Psychological Services
Babylonia
After F.O.S. Returned
How have you been feeling this past month? Any better?
Maybe... perhaps a little.
The room has been deliberately softened with beige walls, furniture with rounded edges, and a faint calming scent in the air.
A psychologist sits behind a curved desk, stylus in hand, a case file open in front of her.
Are you still volunteering at the cemetery?
Mm. When I'm there, I feel at peace.
That tracks. Your latest readings show your M.I.N.D. has been remarkably stable.
Those brave souls deserve that much. I want to walk with them to the end.
You really are different from the others in your year.
She shifts in her seat, folding her hands over the open file. Her expression settles into a look of practiced, measured empathy.
Soon... I may need to return to Port Podesta.
I've been briefed. I believe it may help you recover the memories of who you were. It's not a bad thing.
Do you still wrestle with it? Whether you're really "Helentine"?
A stretch of silence. Then the Construct reaches for the leather-bound notebook resting on the table in front of her.
Helentine, try not to lean on the notebook. I'd like you to answer from your own memory.
She offers a gentle smile.
The old "Helentine"... was forever left behind at Port Podesta.
But that's not what your actions tell me.
The doctor rests her hand lightly over Helentine's.
At the very least, your habit of keeping a diary says otherwise.
And... what that surgery did to your M.I.N.D... you wouldn't be able to see it clearly yourself.
Mm...
Helentine's fingers tighten around the notebook.
It's also a chance to visit your sister.
In our past few sessions, you've brought her up twenty-one times.
The psychologist pages back through the earlier records.
She's gone, yes, but a chance to face the ones connected to you who've passed, to say a proper goodbye...
That is never a bad thing.
You've stood before death far more than I have. I think you know that better than I do, Diplomatic Advisor.
The psychologist releases her hand and writes a concluding note in the records.
"Construct: Helentine. M.I.N.D. status stable."
"Frame condition meets mission deployment requirements."
"Observation to continue upon return from Port Podesta."
Military - Diplomatic Court Closed Session
Babylonia
This is a Punishing Virus concentration report for the transatlantic region. Focus on the sections in red.
The conference room plunges into shadow as the cold white lights die. All eyes turn to the single holographic screen still burning in the dark.
The image zooms in on a small, unremarkable port city hugging the Atlantic coastline.
Port Podesta.
Over the past several months, joint surveillance from the Military and the Science Council across the transatlantic region all points to this one little port.
Has the Military already coordinated with the Science Council on this? Commander, spare us the preamble.
Why is the Military inserting itself into diplomatic affairs between the Transatlantic Economic Community and the Diplomatic Court, now, of all times?
If you want the bottom line... there is a high probability an agent is hiding somewhere near Port Podesta.
At the mention of the word "agent," the low murmur running through the room dies in an instant. A chill settles over the conference table, like the air itself just turned cold.
Please explain.
Liszt taps his fingertips lightly on the table, his brow tightening.
Give him the data.
With a small gesture from Nikola, additional data files flicker onto the screen, arranged in contrast to the report everyone just saw.
Um... apologies. Mr. Asimov is unable to attend this meeting due to unforeseen circumstances. As his assistant, I'll be walking you through these data reports.
From among the council seats, a timid young girl lifts her hand and gets to her feet. She makes her way to the front, where the holographic screen glows.
Okay...
These reports contain data samples collected by Gray Raven during multiple engagements with Agent Vonnegut... They're tied to Punishing Virus fluctuations within the Ascension-Network. Please direct your attention to these readings.
Rosa marks the same figure in each of the reports.
Across all environments, under every combat condition, this single metric stayed fixed whenever Agent Vonnegut made his appearance.
As you can see, this reading is independent of the ambient Punishing Virus concentration. It only shifts when the agent appears.
...Using data collected from Omega Weapons and previous combat encounters, the Science Council has built an identification database for agents and Ascendants.
Now, using that database as our baseline, let's compare it against this Punishing Virus report from Port Podesta in the Transatlantic Economic Community.
Rosa pulls up the Port Podesta file, expanding it across the screen. Several data points stand out, the same ones used to flag agents and Ascendants.
It's clear... the readings are nearly identical.
Agent Vonnegut is still active in Port Podesta? That doesn't align with the mission records Gray Raven submitted.
No, we can't confirm their identity yet. The signature doesn't match Vonnegut.
How reliable is this report from the Transatlantic Economic Community?
...Everyone, no data that hasn't been personally verified by Mr. Asimov would ever reach this table.
...
Any further questions regarding this report?
The rustle of whispered exchanges spreads through the room. Yet not a single hand goes up.
Then you all understand why the Military called this meeting.
The holographic display shuts off. As the cold white ceiling lights reignite in the dim chamber, Nikola's familiar grim expression reemerges before the assembly.
The Engineering Force has confirmed that Port Podesta's Central Purification Filter has been functioning without issue for at least the past month.
So why hasn't Port Podesta reported these Punishing Virus anomalies to Babylonia? Or are they playing deaf now that we've tracked agent activity to their doorstep?
What does the Military propose?
I know Babylonia is currently engaged in diplomatic negotiations with multiple independent and semi-independent factions across the Transatlantic Economic Community. Port Podesta is among them.
Nikola's gaze shifts to the Diplomatic Court section. Liszt sits there, visibly preoccupied with concerns of his own.
The Military's plan is for the Diplomatic Court and the Control Court to take the lead in our communications with Port Podesta. Under the pretense of investigating the agent threat, we assume control of their regional defenses.
Same as Catania.
He glances at the presiding figures of the Control Court and Diplomatic Court. The pause that follows is deliberate.
I'm afraid the Control Court cannot support this.
Everything we have right now comes from remote analysis and third-party accounts. Acting on that alone would be reckless. We can't control the risk.
And the Diplomatic Court?
Port Podesta is not the only city on the Atlantic coast. The Diplomatic Court is working to bring it into the fold peacefully as a model special administrative region under the government, an example for other independent regions around the world.
Not to mention... the Balder refit negotiations remain stalled. The TEC wants Babylonia's technology, but they are equally fearful of us interfering in what they call
"family affairs."
Even this one ship has required the utmost caution at every turn.
...
A quiet, rhythmic tapping sounds from Liszt's fingertips on the tabletop. The hush stretches, seeping down the length of the table.
Ahem...
A soft cough breaks the silence. It comes from Wells, General in Chief of the Babylonia General Staff, seated among the military benches.
More than a few in the chamber recall that this high-ranking military official and the Transatlantic Economic Community have their own old business to settle.
Everyone.
Taking over their defenses outright, or dispatching an investigation team under military authority—either approach is far too conspicuous.
Councilor Liszt, if I recall correctly, the Diplomatic Court is planning an official visit to Port Podesta in the near future?
That's correct. However... our delegation roster has already been submitted to Port Podesta. Swapping members in now would be too obvious.
Could a second delegation be arranged?
It can. But the Military's investigation must not interfere with the negotiations, and...
Liszt picks up his terminal and brings up a list of names.
They've been extremely guarded in their dealings with us. This is the personnel roster both sides mutually agreed upon prior to the first delegation. You're welcome to review it and see if anyone on this list suits your needs.
A calculated retreat. Liszt gave them permission to proceed, but he stacked the terms so high that only a fool would accept. He expects them to step back without him ever having to say no.
I have no objections.
Wells hands the list to Nikola, whose face remains unreadable, and gives his answer without a moment's hesitation.
Our second delegation will depart only after the Diplomatic Court's delegation has returned safely. It won't interfere with your negotiations with Port Podesta.
If Port Podesta has something to hide, the investigation will bring it to light. If not, we've simply followed additional diplomatic procedure.
Then it seems we have our candidates.
The holographic screen glows back to life. Liszt's list appears before the assembly, two names standing out in bright highlight.
Helentine Spelmin, and...
[player name].
Every eye in the conference room turns toward a familiar figure seated at the far end of the table.
Gray Raven's prior operations established strong ties with representatives of the Copperfield family. You're one of the few military personnel the TEC is willing to trust.
But that trust only extends to you. They remain wary of combat-grade military Constructs.
The Construct Helentine Spelmin, however, while she serves in the military, her ties to Port Podesta's authorities run deep... She is a negotiator they can, at the very least, accept.
Wells gestures toward the screen, where the portrait of a female Construct floats in the air.
Go meet with her before you depart. She'll be your partner for this mission.
Her temperament is... particular. I suggest you two familiarize yourselves with each other as soon as possible, before the mission officially begins.
Cemetery of the Unreturned
Babylonia
Tiny grave markers stand in rigid, uniform rows like a silent army stretching endlessly toward the horizon.
But this section near the cemetery entrance holds more than just headstones.
Over a dozen simple biers are laid out in neat formation on the ground. White sheets drape the still forms beneath, many stained with vital fluid or blood.
Beside the biers rests an open violin case and a modest bouquet of pale flowers.
The person you are looking for kneels beside one of the biers, comb in hand. Her other hand moves with extreme gentleness, brushing stray strands of hair from the forehead of the deceased and tucking them behind her ear, tending to her appearance with care.
...Please give me one moment, [player name].
She doesn't turn. Her attention stays fixed on the bier, on the quiet shape of the female Construct lying there, still and silent, all life long gone.
Your hair is so long... It would look beautiful braided, I think...
She combs her fingers through the lifeless synthetic locks, faded and partially scorched, dividing them into careful strands. Every motion is slow and sure.
Once the braid is complete, she selects a single flower from the bouquet and tucks it into the braid's end. Then she stands and moves quietly to the next bier.
She lifts the white sheet gently. Beneath it lies a male Construct, half his body torn away. His one remaining hand, barely intact, still grips his weapon with a deathless hold.
...The battle is over.
You've done well... You can let go of it now.
Helentine gently works the weapon free from the deceased's grip. Into his palm, permanently misshapen by years of holding a gun, she presses a single pale flower.
She moves to the next, as though wishing goodnight to someone who has only just closed their eyes.
Rest now...
Goodbye...
She moves slowly among the dead who will lie here in their long repose, pausing at each bier to offer a soothing look and a murmured farewell.
Her quiet rounds complete, she comes to a stop once more before the rows of the departed.
...
A short silence settles. She brings the violin to rest against her shoulder, closes her eyes, and lets the bow drift across the strings in long, slow strokes...
A still moment passes. She returns the violin to its case, leans down to snap the clasps shut, and rises, her gaze now meeting yours.
Sorry to keep you waiting, [player name].
By the time you reach her side, the soft expression she wore earlier has faded.
It is as though the Helentine who whispered gentle farewells to every fallen soldier was folded away the moment the case clasps clicked shut, stored back into some deep, private place within her.
Helentine Spelmin, Strategic Diplomatic Affairs Office of the Military. I'm from the Transatlantic Economic Community.
Here's a routine briefing from the Strategic Diplomatic Affairs Office. After a mission is issued, the assigned advisor compiles the information and briefs their partner.
Yes. We'll be working together and entering Port Podesta as members of Babylonia's diplomatic delegation to conduct our field investigation.
That, along with assisting mission staff officers, compiling pre-operation intelligence, assessing frontline squad combat effectiveness, and...
Given my background in the Transatlantic Economic Community, I'm often brought in as an advisor on diplomatic affairs related to the region.
And... this as well.
As she speaks, she walks to the nearest bier and kneels. She begins copying the designations of the fallen into a leather-bound notebook by hand.
I help prepare these unclaimed fallen for their rest, tend to their appearance, ready them for burial... After that, they rest here together.
She raises her gaze to the graveyard stretching before her, a field of markers without any visible end.
Her hand never pauses, the pen still moving as she copies down the name from the next bier.
Normally, this work is handled by other military personnel in coordination with Star of Life. But I... chose to take part in it myself. Of my own accord.
Mm. I want to record their names.
Hunched over her work, she copies down every designation, every name, and the record of their deeds. For some, the account runs long. For others, it is over in a few sparse words.
Every life is unique. In life, and in death.
No one wants to be forgotten. If you've lived at all, you leave something behind in this world.
All I can do is write down the stories I remember, from my own memory.
Once it's written, even if the memory fades, no one can erase the fact that they lived. That they fought.
She turns the densely filled notebook slightly and opens it to a fresh page.
More often than not... I also record the faces of the living.
She sketches a small frame in the bottom right corner of the page. Within its borders, a portrait emerges in quick, vivid strokes, the face of [player name] coming to life.
See? Like that, now you're recorded too.
Silence settles over the cemetery for a long moment. Then a wind drifts up from somewhere deep among the graves, catching the white sheet on the first bier and ruffling the flower tied at the dead's hair.
She bends her head and writes down one final line on the previous page.
"Today's rites for the fallen are complete. Sleep well. May you never be forgotten..."
Her pen hovers over the page. A small dot of ink bleeds where the tip lingers, and then she adds one more line.
"May 'I' remember you all."
It's done.
She picks up the violin case and gestures for you to follow. The two of you walk side by side toward the cemetery exit. After only a few steps, her terminal chimes.
She glances down at the screen and stops.
I'm sorry, [player name]. I forgot...
I forgot that there's one more I need to say goodbye to.
You look back at her. Her face is caught between light and shadow at the cemetery entrance, her expression unreadable.
The case is set back down with a quiet knock against the ground. After that, the silence stretches on.
Port Podesta...
That is where every memory is kept. That is where all the hurt and all the feeling come from. It is the old web Helentine left behind in her past.
Here, cause and consequence, recollection and impression, weave together into an inextricable net.
Helentine stands among the dead. On her terminal screen, a mail icon blinks silently.
<color=000000ff>Sender: Ophelia.
Is it... really you?
She stares at the name on the screen, suspended between hope and doubt.
The violin sings once more before the day is done.
