A little blurb for @thewinterraven and their Legacy AU, because this rough and its little sequel had me by the throat today.
I can be so incredibly Normal about this AU, I swear-
(This little blurb is brought to you by me listening to Xenoblade Chronicle’s Engage the Enemy on repeat as I was writing it, so if you want something to listen to in the background, it will be appropriate.)
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The alarm blared to life without warning, and Galacta Knight jolted, muscle-memory making them grab their shield and lance from where they had been propped up against their desk before their brain even fully registered the signal.
Alarm B-03.
A Star Warrior MIA.
One powerful beat of their wings carried them to their cabin's door, and they didn't bother closing it behind them as they sped down the hallway, the plain white walls of the private quarters a blur around them.
They felt Garlude and Jecra's presence before they saw them, two bright points of light sprinting down the corridor leading to the hangar, and with another burst of speed, Galacta Knight closed the distance between them. Their eyes met when they caught up, and on their faces, the knight saw the same determined concern that they themselves felt.
Alarm B-03 was rarely heard outside of drills. It was one thing for one of Sir Arthur's inner circle to get hurt on a mission, and another altogether for the base to lose contact with them completely.
Only a small handful of Star Warriors were off-base at the moment. And not one of them was the type to easily dismiss an emergency transmission.
Whatever had happened was probably serious.
Above them, the speaker system crackled to life, and Sir Nonsurat's voice rang out, loud enough to be heard even above the blaring alarms. His tone was as strong and steady as ever, but to those who knew him well, the clipped, rapid pace at which he spoke betrayed his own unease.
The trio exchanged a troubled glance as their second-in-command rattled off the expected assembly instructions. Emergency mission. Veteran Star Warriors only. Gather at the hangar immediately for take-off.
“Be ready for anything,” Sir Nonsurat continued, his voice still painfully clipped. “We don't know what to expect. The mission directive is the retrieval of one of our own; exactly four hours and fifty-two minutes after our last contact with him, we received an emergency distress signal from Sir Meta Knight.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Jecra, and Galacta Knight felt their own world tilt a little, almost missing a wingbeat before speeding up even more. The hangar was close now, but it felt impossibly far away. They felt their magic boil in their veins, furious and anxious for an outlet.
“I have been trying to hail Sir Meta Knight's ship ever since, but he is not responding. We're too far out of range to reach him on his personal communicator, and we can't confirm his status. Until further notice, he is considered Missing In Action. The signal's coordinates have already been uploaded to your ships' computers. Be careful, and stay safe out there.” There was a short pause. Then, more quietly: “And bring him back to us.”
The speakers clicked off with a sound of finality, and despite the alarms blaring in the background, the noise of rapid footfalls and panting lungs, the corridor suddenly felt too quiet. The Quantum Lance pulsed in the knight's clenched hand, eagerly responding to its master's agitated mood, and Galacta Knight wanted to scream and pierce it into the fabric of space itself to get to their friend's side faster – but they knew better. Rift-travel was imprecise at best and suicidal at worst; they'd be just as likely to get stranded in deep space as they'd be to end up anywhere in Meta Knight's vicinity.
That didn't stop them from taking their frustrations out on the hanger doors though, blowing the heavy steel slabs cleanly off their hinges with a single strike instead of waiting for them to open all the way.
It said a lot about her own state of mind that Garlude didn't even comment.
Galacta Knight was about to head for their own jet at the opposite end of the hangar when they felt Jecra's hand on their shoulder, wordlessly pulling them towards a somewhat larger machine. It was a ship meant for three pilots; the one Garlude, Jecra and Meta Knight would usually take when sent on a mission as a three-man cell. Galacta Knight wanted to protest against taking their friend's customary spot, but one glance at Jecra stopped them. He was clearly distressed, and yet, he was also looking at them with open concern.
Typical Jecra, not wanting them to be alone at a time like this. Normally, they might've felt vaguely offended by the show of pity, but there were more important things than their own stubborn pride right now.
Galacta Knight boarded the machine wordlessly, and allowed their wing to brush against Jecra's arm as they passed him, letting it linger there for a moment longer than strictly necessary. Jecra offered them a tired smile, before turning towards the ship's console to study the coordinates.
“As expected”, he murmured, his voice unsteady. “That's in our territory's outer reaches, at least eight hours away from our current position at a normal pace-”
He was interrupted by Garlude, who pointedly slammed her hands down on the console. The female warrior, usually so cautious and prudent, narrowed her eyes in fierce determination. “We'll make it in four”, she snapped.
I just… I have a mighty need for Tony to play the violin.
Please excuse this terrible doodle, I CBA to actually finish/clean this sketch up OTL and I apologise to all violinists, just ignore that fail attempt okay
Meta Knight has always suffered with enormous levels of survivors guilt and Post Traumatic Stress, though he would sooner die than admit it to most of the Dreamlanders.
Having spent years filled with regret about his closest friends, seeing that they’ve been kept hidden like this for so long is a pretty traumatic experience for him.
