[center][h2]Linus Guiren[/h2][/center]
One moment, Linus was staring out one of the aircraft’s windows, reminiscing. Well, truthfully told, that’s what they’ve been doing during all the journey so far, only looking away at times to engage in polite chatter with some of the others. But most of the time, they observed their once home planet, spending time in quiet reflection. There were some familiar sights, some that [i]seemed[/i] familiar, and others that were utterly unknown yet sparked a sense of distant nostalgia for this mess of a planet.

In the next instance, the cockpit was destroyed, the pilot killed. Linus whipped their head to stare at the front, shocked still for a few milliseconds. Despite the impossibility of it, their vessel had been shot down and was now in the midsts of descending uncontrollably. This…should not have happened. The only way it could have was that someone in the know didn’t like what they were about to do. The specifics of how, why, and who could be pondered upon later, however; right then, alarms were blaring (or rather, sputtering weakly in and out of existence), smoke and the scent of destroyed machinery was spreading, and their vehicle was loudly protesting its violent nosedive.

Linus didn’t need the holographic warning to know they had to brace for impact. To prepare for it, they activated nearly all of their Nerakian keys (leaving the offensive stingers dormant), and positioned four of their defensive discs around their body, covering themselves and anyone in the immediate vicinity. The other four were sent to reinforce the most vital parts of the vehicle, so as to lessen the risk of being crushed or pierced or – as had already happened to one individual when Linus wasn’t paying attention – thrown out.

With the yellow energy barriers engaged and ether repository orbs fueling them, all Linus could now do was hold onto their seat with one hand, and grip their backpack and weapons tightly to their body with the other. The sharp drop was nauseating and disorienting, and despite all preparations, Lin blacked out for a short while upon impact. When they opened their eyes, they had to spend a few moments blinking out dancing black-whit spots. Their head was pounding, and the Nerakian keys were barely responsive enough to clumsily fly back to their armor and integrate with it. The ether they’d stored in the orbs had been nearly exhausted. At the least Lin did not seem to be injured beyond some mild blunt trauma, which they must have suffered whenever they smacked into their ether barriers.

Satisfied with their physical condition, Linus groaned, and extracted themselves from the seat. Before leaving the aircraft, they checked if anyone living was still inside, and if they were, Linus would help get them out if need be. They were wary of the dangers of the GES vessel exploding, and were eager to vacate the premises. The added incentive of approaching hostiles also helped to settle their decision. Under different circumstances, Lin would be glad to stand their ground and show the bastards what a pissed off Celaderaka could accomplish, but their team was scattered, confused, and otherwise not at all ready for such an action. Unfortunately, direct confrontation was out of the question.

So was approaching Kerovnia. Linus had no idea why the city seemed as if it suddenly hosted a dedicated enemy battalion, but [i]someone[/i] must have really opposed their mission. The sudden and unexpected voice over the coms – which had relayed nothing but static up until then – confirmed that they, whoever [i]‘they’[/i] were, knew about their mission and were eager to prevent it being accomplished. To top it off, energy mortar fire was approaching from overhead. “We need to get out of here,” Lin growled to no one in particular, then proceeded to hightail it through the woods, away from the hostiles and Kerovnia, heading approximately northwards.