Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (35/?) WiP 1 (Patreon)

Hey everyone! Here's the Work in Progress for Chapter 35 I hope you guys enjoy! :D 

THUD!

“Extraction point reached. Equipment Status Report (ESR): High-Performance Maneuverability Gear (HPMG) - Nominal, Active Camouflage - Nominal. Requesting operator status.”

I let out a series of heavy, breathy pants, fighting my stomach’s desire to appease the vertigo gods by chucking up my less than impressive breakfast consisting of a single bite of crispy bread and a tube of nutripaste. My whole body had all but given out, and I would have crumpled into a sorry heap of sweaty human if it wasn’t for the EVI activating the suit’s in-armor positional reorientation mode, keeping the armor nice and rigid whilst I squirmed inside.

To the outside observer, and most notably to Thalmin, I would’ve arrived with the flair of your typical videogame protagonist. Having gracefully, and rather epically might I add, landed perfectly on both armored feet whilst simultaneously decloaking and retracting both the grappler and its tether. I even did the thing they taught you in training where you followed-through when the grappler was fully retracted, meaning I’d pulled both of my arms back just as the grappler housing unit clanked shut; resulting in me inadvertently striking a pose just to cement my triumphant return.

Tween and teen Emma would’ve loved seeing this, and would’ve given anything and everything to be present-Emma.

Present-Emma, however, wanted nothing more than to die right now.

“Elevated Heart Rate, Blood Pressure, and Respiratory Rate detected. Cadet Booker, do you require medical assistance?”

“No, I’m fine.” I managed out through a stifled hiccup.

“Affirmative.” The EVI replied mechanically, then as if nothing happened, it repeated the query from before in the exact same tone and cadence. “Requesting operator status.”

I groaned out in annoyance at that. But what was I expecting from a military VI? Some fake commercial-grade faux-compassion protocols?

“Operator status: nothing to report, just some mild nausea and vertigo.”

“Affirmative. Do you wish for me to administer anti-nausea medication, Cadet Booker?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Affirmative. Terminating Battlefield Networking and Combat Maneuverability Assistance Runtimes, standby.”

Just like that, I found half of my HUD suddenly freed up. The various programs and subroutines that were practically carrying me through that whole sidequest were suddenly terminated, their processing power being reallocated to the EVI as the virtual intelligence took back all of its real-estate with a ravenous hunger.

Whilst I knew that its insistence on having me report on my status right as the I’d reached the extraction point was just a part of its programming, I couldn’t help myself but to anthropomorphize it somewhat. I knew it needed my input to fulfill the mission parameters, and by doing so, giving it the ability to end all programs associated with the mission. This whole urgency to retain full control over its precious processing power was just so very gremlin-like, so much so that I couldn’t help but to picture it immediately hoarding every single hertz of allocated processing power like a little dragon clinging desperately onto every scrap of gold it had.

“Emma.” I heard the voice of a certain wolf prince breaking through my reverie. “That was… just…” I could hear him leading up to a compliment, a gushing one at that if that wagging tail was any indicator, but he stopped halfway. Instead, he decided to step forward, only to punch one of my shoulderguards with his fist. “Ya didn’t need to show off you know!” He spoke through a toothy grin. “There’s nothing to prove and no one to prove it to, so calm down with the theatrics there, my would-be rogue!” He continued, giving out a series of hefty, hearty chuckles as he did so. “You’re performing to an audience of one!”

I snickered outwardly, before responding with a healthy shrug and an unseen smirk. “Where I come from, flashiness and practicality aren’t mutually exclusive. But thanks for the considerate words, I’m glad to know I have a future as an entertainer or a rogue if things with the UN and the Nexus don’t pan out or turn sour.”

The lupinor let out a single dry chuckle at that, baring his fangs as he did so. “It’s good to have an exit strategy, should things indeed take a turn. Which reminds me, how did things pan out with the Apprentice?” The lupinor’s tone took a shift at this, as he transitioned from that playful banter into a more serious tone of voice. “Did our gambit work out?”

“I would probably be fulfilling my surname’s namesake and booking it out of here if things had gone south, Thalmin.” I began with a bout of sly humor.

Thalmin’s expressions however, didn’t seem to reciprocate my attempt at humor.

I took this prompting to correct my course, as I purposefully cleared my throat before continuing. “In all seriousness, Thalmin, things went surprisingly well. The apprentice didn’t freak out, in fact, she seemed quite receptive. More receptive than I honestly expected, but I think a lot of it has to do with what she calls a life-debt? I’m not sure if that’s a literal thing here in the Nexus, but given how serious she seems to be taking it, I bet it had a pretty significant impact on how she took my request, let alone the way I went about getting to her in the first place.”

“A life-debt?” Thalmin parroted back with a severe look on his face, his snout actually wrinkling as he said that. “Did she actually use those words, Emma?”

“Yeah.”

“The apprentice…” The lupinor paused, trailing off as he seemed to be trying to find the right words. “Is proving to be more honorable of a soul than I initially gave her credit for. Life-debts aren’t something to be trifled with, Emma. They are as socially binding as they are honor-binding. So this is rather significant progress. Please, continue”

“There’s nothing much more than that to be honest. We talked about the crate, I emphasized how big of a threat it posed, and she agreed to help. She said she’ll be talking to Mal’tory asap, probably sometime tonight.” I shrugged, before I realized a pretty sizable revelation that I’d all but left out. “There was a pretty non-insignificant development that I wasn’t really expecting from the whole exchange though.” I muttered out under a half breath, eliciting quite a few visible twitches from the lupinor’s triangular ears. I took this as my cue to keep on going. “You remember how it was pretty obvious that they were singling out that crate in particular right? From the videologs we reviewed a few days ago?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m assuming she told you more about what it was that triggered that response?”

“Correct, and it wasn’t what I was expecting, like, at all. The apprentice claims, and I quote: that Professor Mal’tory wished to reclaim what is rightfully the property of the Academy, and by extension, the property of the Crown.”

Thalmin’s features began shifting yet again at that revelation, a dour severity took over, as the lupinor’s eyes began to dilate with a look of genuine unease.

“Emma…” He began with a throaty breath. “What exactly did your people put inside of that box?”

“Well, the apprentice called it a Minor Shard of Impart. She said-”

“Stop. Did you just say a Minor Shard of Impart?!” Thalmin interjected with a solid, guttural bark.

“Yeah I did. So after that she said-”

“WHY DID YOUR PEOPLE FEEL THE NEED TO PUT A PLANAR-LEVEL GIFTED ARTIFACT INTO YOUR PERSONAL BELONGINGS?!” The lupinor prince shot back with a series of loud, ear-shattering barks, each one louder than the next, which for a split second managed to surprise and overwhelm the EVI’s automatic volume adjustments.