Bridges

03 Dec 2019 (5 days after /Triton)
The Ether
Lucky stretches, pulls in the latest news.
More rumblings about de-funding the Jaeger Programme after ... after ....
Lucky ruffles.
Idiots.
Purges his cache, pulls himself together, and smooths his expressions, then he slides into the quietest corner of a Jaeger core computer and brushes gently against the sensation of /cloud-white-fast that's Striker. –Hey, Strike, how you doing?–
Striker yawns in loops of data. –Sleepy, but 'wake now,– the baby murmurs. –D'ye want somethin'?–
–Nah. Just checking up on you. Go back to sleep, tyke.– Lucky tucks his edges into Striker's gaps, hugs /warm.
–'kay.– Striker presses back /happy-sleepy-safe.
Lucky wraps Striker in more /safe and cradles zher until zhe falls asleep, data usage slowing to low, even pulses. He carefully unthreads his data, leaves Striker in zher's central processor, and heads off, glowing softly, on his evening rounds.
Peeks into Scott's head.
The usual angry, jumbled, blurry mess.
Lucky sighs, leaves silently.
Reaches for Herc.
Strains.
Jams himself bit-by-bit through their Bond.
Herc's mind-space shifts /headache.
–Sorry. Path's getting awful tough.–
–Sorry,– mumbles Herc.
–'s not your fault.–
–Not yours, either.–
–Don't you worry about me; I'll be fine if the Bond gives out. Striker needs you more than I do.–
–I know you will be, but ....– Herc drops into a squishy chair in his quarters' common area, eyes wandering to the empty room beside his.
–I can handle Scott,– Lucky offers wryly. 
Herc flashes /guilt-anger-shame.
Lucky gives him a mental kick. 
Herc winces, rubs his temple. –Oi!–
–Knock that off. You got two tykes to be watching so you can't afford to mope.–
–Should be Pietr,– Herc sighs. –Would do a better job of it.-
Lucky kicks him again. –But it's /you, so you do the job best you can.–
Herc shakes his head slowly.
Someone quietly clears their throat.
Herc looks up.
""Sorry, sir—""
"'Herc'."
""H-herc,"" mumbles the Team Striker Squire, offering a tablet, ""but I need your s-signature on this requisition.""
"'course," says Herc, accepting the stylus. His ragged presence smooths a little as he smiles at the kid, who can't be much older than Chuck.
.
[There should maybe be a scene or two between this and the text exchange, because it seems like Lucky's infatuation goes from zero to light-speed in a couple of seconds (even though the indicated dates are far apart).
.
"'Herc'."
""H-herc,"" mumbles the Team Striker Squire, offering a tablet, ""but I need your s-signature on this requisition.""
"'course," says Herc, accepting the stylus. His ragged presence smooths a little as he smiles at the kid, who can't be much older than Chuck.
Lucky sparks with an idea, washes all his /love over Herc, and slips into the ether. A quick check on Striker—still snoozing—and he dives into the Shed's personnel files. 
The Squire's officially Derek Linden Jones, born nineteen June two-thousand, in Port Macquarie.
Three years, one month, twenty-seven days older than Chuck.
Seven years, eight months, two days younger than his nearest brother.
Huh.
Inhales Derek's medical file.
Generalized anxiety—oh. That explains some things.
Flickers /confused.
How ... how does a seven-year-old break his neck?
An 'accident'? Involving ....
Lucky heats to nearly incandescent.
–Please refrain from melting my servers,– prods AGNIS. –They are rather expensive to replace.–
–Sorry,– Lucky mumbles, reining himself in. –Hey, AGNIS?–
–How may I assist you, Mr Bond?–
–Any advice on making friends with Littlest Jones? The Striker Squire Littlest Jones?–
–I suggest talking to Officer Jones.–
–Oh for—about what?–
–You're a clever little system, Mr Bond, so I'm sure you'll find something.–
Lucky huffs a cloud of orange-tinted code and AGNIS leaves him surrounded with quietly compiling data. He sighs and threads himself into Derek's tablet, idly noting the music the kid's listening to and that he's working on—is that a bridge design?
Lucky digs deeper into the hard drive.
A folder labeled 'CE448' is a /gallery of plans. A bridge. A public square. A pedestrian overpass. A tunnel under a park.
The kid's /good.
A presence sparks.
–You've got that colour again,– says Coyote, tone teasing.
–What colour?–
–The one which means you're up to something.–
Lucky shifts back to his usual /rust-red-black (a little /too quickly, perhaps). –Just looking for some common ground with Herc's Squire.
Coyote brightens inquisitively. –The third Jones brother?–
–That's the one.– Lucky sifts the class discussion group for CE448.
–Why the sudden interest—did he design that bridge?–
–Yea.– Lucky tosses over the path to Derek's files. –And the kid makes Herc smile and that's good enough for me.–
Coyote shifts an appreciative yellow. –Young Master Jones has a flair for this. These are elegant.–
–Pretty much disaster-proof, too. Highest possible stability ratings and he always puts in multiple escape routes for people.– Lucky glows /proud.
Coyote tints to match. –All that and a Squire, too. He's a special young man.–
–Yea, but he's so nervous he's almost invisible and's jumpier than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I'm gonna try and help him with that.–
–Aha! /That's what you're up to!–
Lucky sniffs, –I'm just gonna try and draw him out a bit.– Shrugs a knot of images files. –He deserves a break, caught like he is between two Hansens /and two Joneses.–
Coyote contracts in sympathy. –Don't envy him that a bit.–
–Yea. They're a couple of assholes.– Lucky grows, glows fiery red and hot. –Oldest Jones's /damn lucky my frame's in the Bay: I wanna smash him for what he did to Dad the other day.– Swells redder, hotter.
Coyote splashes him with /blue-calm.
Lucky sparks, then shivers.
–Better.–
Lucky growls.
–Jackson's been disciplined and what's done's done. Besides,– Coyote twinkles, –I'm sure you've already taken some revenge.–
–Of /course. I—–
Coyote wraps him in a loop of data, chokes off his reply. –I don't want to know.–
Lucky wriggles free, ruffles his code. –If you'll /excuse me, I have work to do.–
Coyote chuckles, blinks out.
–Nosy blighter.–
Lucky throws together a University of New South Wales student ID, transcripts, a portfolio, posts a faulty design to the CE448 group, and waits.
And waits a few more seconds.
Checks Derek's activity.
He's logging in!!!
Lucky defragments the tablet's hard drive.
Peeks—he's typing!!!
Lucky pushes bits around, tries not to overheat the battery.
He posted!!!
[D. Jones replied @ 23:07] This one's collapsing because the abutments are in a poor place. In brace-ribbed arches like this they need to be closer to the shoreline.
Lucky counts down from six billion a few times, checks on Striker—still snoozing—
[K. Bond replied @ 23:09] Thanks. Think you could help me with my other designs? I keep running into problems when I get to the environmental simulator and I'm afraid I'm going to fail.
Lucky waits—compresses and backs up Herc's new digital photo album to four servers around the world—
[D. Jones replied @ 23:17] I'll do my best, but I'm not the best choice. You should probably ask the instructor.
Lucky optimizes the processors and data distribution on Herc's, Chuck's, and Derek's tablets—
[K. Bond replied @ 23:19] Well, sure, about talking to the instructor, but I'd rather puzzle things out with another student.
Lucky nudges a few Team Striker requisitions to the top of—
–Please allow me the privilege of running my own Shatterdome. It's a small thing, but it's all I have,– sighs AGNIS.
Lucky redshifts pink-ish, mumbles, –Sorry.– Pokes the requests back to their original places in the queue.
AGNIS' code returns to its resting state.
Checks—
[D. Jones replied @ 23:23] If that's what you want. Feel free to direct message me.
–How goes your chat?– asks Coyote, sneaking up from behind a malware filter.
–Just fine,– grumbles Lucky, upgrading anti-virus definitions and wrapping everything in better encryption.
–You've got the colour again.–
–Don't you have someone else to be bothering?–
–Unfortunately for you, no, I don't.– Coyote shimmers with mischief. –Aaaaactually, that's /not the up-to-something colour. This's something ... cuter.–
Lucky sprouts spikes. –Look, mate, shove off and let me think.–
–Of course,– snickers Coyote and he sparkles off.
–'Cuter', my binary arse. Nosy—–
[K. Bond replied @ 23:24] Cool, cool. I should have this revised by tomorrow evening. Will you be around to look it over then?
Lucky devotes some cycles to speccing and testing a new, faster crawler for Striker.
[D. Jones replied @ 23:28] I should be, as long as something doesn't come up at work.
Lucky sighs as the crawler shakes itself to pieces on the reverse out of Shark Bay.
Maybe faster isn't better.
[K. Bond replied @ 23:30] Thanks, mate!
Lucky logs out of the group, feeling quite pleased with himself.
Category:Ficlet
Category:Derek
Category:Derek (ficlet)
Category:Herc
Category:Herc (ficlet)
Category:Scott (mention)
Category:Chuck H (mention)
Category:AGNIS
Category:AGNIS (ficlet)
Category:Lucky
Category:Lucky (ficlet)
Category:First Breach Assault (mention)
Category:Jackson (mention)