EVENTS:

Rosa and Eigla, properly protected by the kaiju's ribcage, brave the rain outside. The activity in Molly's fort and the loading area seems to have come to a standstill, though several cargo walkers still operate under the massive bulk of the Rig itself. The sun has disappeared completely under the ocean, and the incandescent lights around the area tint everything in a dull red glow.

Taking the main lift up, they reach the Rig's main hall. Swarming like ants, engineer zombies fill up tankers and crates with the facility's exports, coordinated by the night shift Dolls.


_______________________


Klimt's mind goes dark for a second, then he finds himself rewinding through his memories at a high speed, like an old VHS tape. The laboratory, the arena fight, the ride through the mud flats. Peggy's death at his hands, and the insects within the derelict ship. The pillar man, the long snowy road, the village of fanatics, the overgrown manor. The horrors of the factory, and the mind-numbing trek through the wastes. Curie. The army base. Fleeing through the woods. The meatblob. The fragile peace of Mary's house. Peggy. Going mad from the rain. The stadium. The sealed room, on the underground, where Eigla lost her arm.

The memories seem to flicker and jump, getting patchier. He remembers his death, and the defilement of his corpse. The guns and blades installed in place of his arms and legs, the discarded limbs thrown in a freezer with hundreds of other body parts. The long war, and fleeing his hometown. Mourning his mother, yet being grateful she did not live to see the End.

There is another dark pause, and he finds himself going forwards at normal speed once again.


FRAGMENT OF MEMORY: Sacrifice
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_____

Darkness, once again. He felt as if he was falling, but he didn't wake up. The abyss went on forever.


_______________________


Malia opens her maw, and in a somewhat froglike manner, shoots out a thick bundle of threads, pulling the radio off its mount and into her body. The motorbike looks, displeased.

Hm! Seems like the thing was adapted to run off the user's bloodstream, much like a Coffin. Connecting it to a few blood vessels near her spine, the smooth song starts playing again, echoing inside her skull as if she were using earbuds. There's a few other stations available, too. Though- Who'd bother transmitting a song in this dead world?

EVENTS:

Malia decides to see what other stations she can pick up. By moving her waist from side to side, she scans the area with the radio's directional antenna, managing to roughly determine where each signal is coming from.

First of all, there's several channels being relayed somewhere directly above her, perhaps from the Rig's radio mast. Mostly routine messages coordinating the refinery's operation, but there's also a series of regular beeps and chirps, almost like a beacon.

The accordion song seems to have been replaced by a classical piece played on a flute. It's coming from... Somewhere East of her position, though the distortion in the signal suggests it's a long distance away.

At short intervals, bursts of sound come from several directions - Two from the North, another far Northwest, a single one South and a trio from the East. Each time, the Rig's transmitter sends a short reply. Perhaps some sort of, point-to-point connection system, sending period pings to each transmitter?

Finally, a single station comes from the West, out in the ocean. It's hard to detect - At first, she thinks it's only static - But there's definitely a pattern to it, though she can't quite find any sort of meaning to it. After a few moments, it disappears.


_______________________

Rosa's map proves more than adequate, and soon the two girls find themselves in front of Molly's lab. Malia is standing there, by the resting bike, doing a little dance while listening intently for nothing in particular. The hall is very much silent.


_______________________



Focusing, Klimt tries to force his consciousness out of limbo. He reaches through the void, tearing his form against its noneuclidean walls, and is ejected into an errant thought. Textbook passages on military tactics echo through his being, as he bounces across the syntax of long-disused programming languages, then the taxonomic details of a thousand species of dust mites.

Finally, he falls into something cohesive - A memory, or at least part of one. Walking through a corridor made of millions of Curie's eyeless back-faces, he walks into an hospital room.

A cardiac monitor sits against the wall, useless on the current patient. Indistinct ghosts in hazmat suits bumble about, taking measurements and samples. In the middle of it all, sits Judith. Or, Curie? It's hard to say, but she's not finished yet.

Partially submerged in a tub of saline and tendrils, the girl is little more than a head and a pair of arms, connected to life support machines by a dozen corrugated metal hoses. Eyes fixated on an open book in front of her, she seems to be repeatedly solving and scrambling a rubik's cube, oblivious to Klimt's arrival.

EVENTS:

The Doll looks up, expressionless eyes slowly scanning Klimt. Her voice reminds him of when he first met Curie - Mechanical and filled with echoes.

Doll: "Unit is OPERATOR-552. RECOVERED OPERATOR 4-C, codename Judith, is not in this facility. The name 'Curie' is not recognized"


_____________________


Malia looks with some amusement as a robotic kaiju appears walking down the hall, then Eigla climbs out of its chest cavity. Seems like Rosa got another makeover, huh?

Fiddling with the radio, she tries to transmit something... Hmmm, no luck, it seems to have once been a car's radio. She does manage to make a CD tray pop out of her stomach, but it'll take some modifying to make the device two-way.

Rosa: "Hello Malia."

Eigla: "We're back. Found a nice place to rest, unless if you already have a place. We'll continue scouting in the morning."

Malia: "Sure."