The moment the clock rolled to 0500 hours, Ahato stirred. It was second nature, a direct consequence of the extensive military training in the first 12 years of her youth. She wasn't in the military anymore, so she stubbornly laid in bed clinging to the remnants of sleep. That training ran a little bit too deep though, and she was on her feet a few minutes later. Her right shoulder was already sore. Today's not going to be a good day, is it?

Navigating solely by touch and memory, Ahato stalked through her dark room towards the window, where she pulled open the shutters slightly. Dim light poured in from the outside, brightening the room just enough to see by. The walls were a pale yellow, with some kind of pattern or texture that had mostly faded with time. The floor was cold, earth-toned tiles, and the ceiling a dull white with some kind of curved pattern etched into it. The room itself was pretty small, housing only her bed, a singular desk, chair, and a wardrobe. Her eyes slid over the stack of salvaged music equipment piled on the desk; a singular turntable, a mini-keyboard, a mini-sequencer, and the laptop needed to make them all work. She shook her head as she pulled the wardrobe open. So much for something new last night...

She grabbed a change of clothes before making her way into the washroom just down the hallway. Unlike the other rooms in her apartment, this one had its own light inside which she flicked on. It was a dim thing, not offering much more than the means to see to begin with, but it was enough for her purposes. She set the clothes on the small counter before turning to herself in the mirror. Her tentacles and mantle never sat right after sleeping and they always made her feel icky when they weren't in place. Gotta get that fixed.

She took a moment to do just that. The two tentacles on the back of her head fell into place with just a bit of batting, landing about her mid back. Directing the long one to lay in front of her right eye was simple; it fell down to around her chest, and sat in place with little issue once it was there. Three moderate sized suckers, white in color like her tentacle's undersides, spotted the outside of the tentacle, breaking up the gradient. The shorter bang wasn't much more hassle, she just laid it beside her ear before putting her piercings in. She'd been wearing them since her formal discharge from the military, so her hands ran through the motions while her eyes looked elsewhere. Military regulations can kiss my ass.

While her hands were busy, she took the time to assess her colors. Her mantle's natural color was a pretty, almost rusty looking reddish-brown. It made its way about two thirds down the length of her tentacles, before it faded into the pleasing pale blue of her natural ink color. Unfortunately, she couldn't keep it that way, for as much as she wasn't a conscripted soldier, she was still under the military's employ. With a sigh, she directed her full attention to her mantle's coloration, focusing on swapping it to the standard military magenta. It swapped with just a few moments pause, the color replacing the rusty red with an almost ripple-like pattern. Now, the hard part.

She turned her attention to ink color next, mentally commanding it to change to the same magenta she just set her mantle to. The mantle's color could be swapped easily - it was just a matter of focusing on changing the pigment's coloration. Ink was a bit different. One needed to change the color of ink they produced, and the ink within their body would change to match it. It wasn't an instant process, usually taking somewhere between three and six seconds (depending on the color) for production to change, and then about twenty for it to spread through the body. Give the ink two or three cycles through the system and the ink sac would lock the color in, requiring another command to change again. Key word there is usually.

Ahato was different; it took her substantially longer for her ink production to change color. The further the hues from her natural light blue, the longer the shift took. Her color wouldn't lock either, meaning that without constant attention, it would slowly shift back to its natural light blue. It was called Huechromatic Lethargy (HCL), a condition that significantly limited the ink sac's ability to change color; and it was the first thing that got her kicked off the front lines. The lesser of two reasons.

A jolt of pain through her right shoulder served as a familiar reminder of the second. She reached over and massaged the muscle there, hoping it would be enough to stave off a full force muscle spasm. The muscle tensed, jerking her right arm backwards into the wall. Ahato hissed in pain, clenched her jaw, and sucked in a breath. Her tentacles curled on reflex, exposing her right eye. Her left hand continued to massage the muscle as she turned her body to press her left side against the wall to support her. It began to relax itself after about a minute of pain. That could have been a lot worse. This one didn't send me to the floor.

The muscle would be sore later, more so if she had to use it or had another spasm. She glared at her thin frame in the mirror, silently cursing her body for the thousandth time that week. Sweat already shone on her peach skin, giving her a very dull orange sheen in the dim lighting. The skin around her eye masks was red and slightly swollen from tears that had slipped out involuntarily. She pointedly ignored the subtle eyebags that were also present under her eyes. Ahato locked eyes with her reflection, staring into her own golden irises with their infinity shaped pupils. With a quiet sigh, she straightened herself off the wall, and restarted the process of shifting her ink color back to octavian magenta. And to think, today just started. How much worse could it get?

She hadn't experienced the spasms until she was eight years old. At that point, her HCL was a known thing that the military was willing to overlook if she could prove she could work around it. It was during their third rudimentary weapons education course that Ahato unfortunately discovered her other condition. An old training charger a few rows over had misfired, causing a loud bang that echoed through the small training quarters. At that point, it was the loudest thing Ahato had ever heard. She didn't exactly remember what happened, but the next thing she remembered was laying on the ground clutching her shoulder. I should have known that was it right then.

Over 10 years of enduring the pain had revealed that the spasms were most likely triggered by stress; something that was not in short supply these days. Both in-the-moment and long term stressors could cause a flare up, completely ensuring her removal from the formal military. I wasn't a half-bad shot with a charger either.

She stalked out of the washroom in a worse mood than she entered. Opening the doors of the wardrobe, she eyed the two sets of armor that hung inside. They were all the same; a metal sash-shaped chest piece with a simple crop-top cloth underlayer, shorts and a belt designed to hold bombs, an ink tank, and boots. The outfit left the naval, arms, and legs exposed, but with the generally hotter temperature and short of supplies, no one really minded. A pair of fingerless gloves, a pair of boots, and a pair of goggles all rested on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe. The goggles were a large, bulky, metal piece that wrapped around the wearer's head. They provided advanced targeting systems for multiple weapon types and toggleable night vision. Assuming one kept them charged, that is.

Ahato glared the armor with a weary eye. Wearing the stuff wasn't particularly pleasant; it was rather bulky and made laying on her back incredibly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the armor was required to enter any military zone, and she had a job today, so on it went regardless of her own wants. Luckily, she wasn't on the front lines, so she wasn't beholden to the same regulations at most soldiers. She slid on her underlayer before draping the armor over top of it. Stupid thing always rides me wrong. They don't make anything for people as tall as me.

Without much thought, Ahato grabbed her outfit and slipped it on, and brought the armor down over top of it a moment later. She sat down on the edge of the wardrobe and slid on her socks and boots. They were simple dark brown waxed canvas, and as comfortable as pushing her foot into a brick. Right as she finished tying the second boot, sounds she didn't recognize echoed from her front room. Ahato was on her feet in an instant, stalking down the hallway with the caution that came from a childhood of military training. She stopped when she saw who was standing in the front room, silhouetted by light pouring in from an open window. Oh Cod, how did I forget she was coming today?

Where Ahato was tall, thin, and lanky, the visitor was average sized, thin, and strong. Musculature obvious through the gaps in her well maintained armor spoke to hours of daily rigorous exercise. She wore an ink tank on her back and carried an octoshot in her off hand. Standard issue goggles rested on her forehead surrounded by roughly symmetrical tentacle bangs that framed her blocky face. Two larger tentacles rose and fell along the back of her head, their ends naturally curling upwards and sticking out slightly. Two golden irises, much like Ahato's own, stared back at her. Though hers are perfectly sculpted for the disapproving glare she always seemed to be sending my way.

A complicated series of emotions flooded Ahato's system. Deep in her heart, she was glad to see her visitor. On every layer above that, annoyance and anger prickled at that feeling of affection. Regardless, she's here. The shining example of a 'perfect' soldier, my younger sister, Imari Mizuta.

"Morning," Ahato offered, voice scratchy from early morning disuse.

Imari didn't respond right away. Her eyes traced Ahato up and down, silently judging. They then flicked over to the counter, where a small pile of trash was gathered. She hadn't bothered taking it out recently because her shoulder's been giving her some trouble. *It's not causing any problems, who cares? I'll get it when its becomes one."

Ahato continued to try and broker peace. She propped herself against the hallway wall, wincing slightly as her right shoulder made contact. "Two full days of leave, that's a pretty big deal to just spring out of nowhere. What's the occasion?" Please just keep this civil. Sis I beg you.

Imari's attention drifted back to her sister. "Can't tell you that." She responded, her voice flat. "Classified."

Ahato sent her a withering look, her patience rapidly fleeting. "My clearance is higher than yours." Has to be with the systems I touch.

"You're not my superior, I don't have to answer to you." Imari answered tersely.

Silence stretched, tense and awkward, for several seconds. Imari... Cod, I do not have the patience for this.

When her sister refused to yield, Ahato surrendered to the pettiness inside of her. "I knew taking the Zapfish was a terrible idea." She turned away before Imari could respond, stepping over to one of the cabinets and pulling out a granola bar. It was wrapped in a thin layer of wax paper, which Ahato carefully unfolded to avoid ripping. That should rile her up.

Imari's eyes widened in surprise, before anger superseded all her other emotions. "You doubt The Great DJ's plans!?" She shouted, grip curling around the octoshot in her hands. Rust it Imari, You wanna be a petty bitch? I can play too.

Ahato sent a mental check to keep her ink shifting to the right color, a habit she's picked up before starting any real conflict. She took a bite of the granola bar before responding with her mouth full. "I mean kinda. Yeah." She leaned over the counter and lazily pointed the granola bar towards her sister. "If they're giving almost the entire standing army leave at once, its because you're going into lockdown." She swallowed her bite and looked up to the ceiling, tapping the granola bar against her chin in mock thought. "That means..." She turned her head back down, faking a look of innocent confusion as she replied with an equally fake tone, "The inklings are retaliating then." Gotcha.

If looks could kill, Imari's would have burned down the apartment. She didn't say a word. Ahato watched as her sister marched down the hallway. She turned into the spare room, and firmly shut the door. Ahato pressed her hands against the counter and let out a long sigh. She could swear her shoulder started aching more. I don't understand why you keep coming to stay here.

She knew why in a literal sense. Officially, Imari was the apartment's second resident. That's how she was able to live on her own for most of the year. Her sister was sent here any time there was leave because the military knew she had somewhere to go. It was just that, every single time the two interacted, they both walked away infuriated with the other. I know you have other places you can stay, barracks not included.

She used to think it was because her sister wanted to see her, and that was probably true the first few times. Imari was only a year younger than her, but Ahato's forced exit from the military, and Imari's promotion into the Unit Captain course stopped the two from seeing each other for a span of several years. Those awkward first meetings quickly devolved into passive aggressive ones. Those soon fell into open aggression, like today's had been. Too much changed in those few years I guess.

The issue was fundamental, each sister's worldview was too distant from the other's. Imari was trained on dedication, taught to lead those with the same faith and drive as her. A lot of responsibility, yes, but responsibility that came with the privilege of being a higher command officer. Ahato hardly even received respect, much less privilege. She was strong-armed into assisting a system she herself was almost entirely excluded from. Is it really so surprising we don't see eye-to-eye on many things?

With a frustrated growl, Ahato finished off her granola bar and staled back down the hallway. She only glared at the spare room door for a moment, not breaking her stride. Re-opening the wardrobe, she assembled the last parts of her outfit. A black and white cap with a simple logo vaguely resembling a face came from the top shelf down onto her head. She stared at the targeting goggles before closing the wardrobe and stepping over to the desk. A quick dig through the single drawer yielded two key items. The first, a pair of red-tinted shield-style sunglasses that were slid over her eyes, darkening the room slightly. They were a prototype for a new series of glasses designed to replace the goggles she so despised; her friend in engineering managed to get her a prototype pair before they went back into development. The second thing was a thin, silver bracelet with a code etched into it. It acted as her clearance badge, allowing her to enter military grounds unimpeded and unaccompanied, so long as she was there on a job. A pair of wireless headphones that were tucked in the back corner of the desk found their way around her neck a moment later. She grabbed her pager from the front corner of the desk before striding out the room, firmly closing the door behind her. Ah, shit. Right, Imari. I should say goodbye I guess.

She stopped in the hallway, awkwardly facing the spare room door. "Uh, Imari? I've a job today, so I'll be out for most of it." There was no response from her sister. Ahato bit back a frustrated growl, letting it simmer at the back of her throat. "You're free to do whatever, this is still your apartment too. Just... don't scratch up my stuff." She waited a few seconds longer, but there was still no response. Ok, sure. Whatever.

At 0625, Ahato closed her front door behind her, and started towards the stairs. The one major downside to living in this dome's second tallest building, there was a fair number of stairs to climb. Luckily, she was only on the 7th floor, so the walk wasn't that bad. Better than the poor suckers on the 15th at least.

She pushed out the front of the building, exiting out into the dome proper. Even with her shades, the brightness change was a bit of an adjustment, but that was also because she kept her apartment in the dark. She looked towards the artificial sky spanning out in front of her on some several hundred dozen screens. Today, it was a bright blue, with a few scattered clouds broken up by the occasional black of a dead screen. Despite that, she still couldn't help but get lost in the facsimile for a few moments, staring out through the visually endless sky. Despite the wonder and awe the screens inspired, she knew instinctually that it was a poor substitute for the real sky. Still, it's nice to dream.

The residential domes weren't exactly scenic locations, especially compared to somewhere like the commercial or performance domes. The residential domes were essentially a cutout of a city, cut off by the walls of the dome that contained it. Buildings rose between four and twelve stories high, almost all the rooms designed to be homes. A tall, circular building rose slightly above the others in the center of the dome. Wide walkways spanned between all of the buildings, providing enough room for people to pass by at a comfortable distance. The layout was shaped like a grid with the walkways named accordingly, for ease of navigation. Not that this place is big enough to get lost in.

The individual domes weren't, at least. The complex at large was a bit of a different story. [14 other] domes worked in tandem with the residential one she was in to form the Octavian Dome Complex, or just The Domes for short. The series of interconnected underground chambers were all she and most everyone who lived here had known. Only the elderly among them had seen the surface, such as DJ Octavio and the Original Engineers. I don't know if I envy them or not.

Ahato strolled through the pathways, gazing up at the buildings as she passed. Markings on the outside of different buildings highlighted all the places extra decorations had been stripped off, their materials being recycled and used elsewhere. Marks like that were obvious all across the Domes if you knew where to look. Along the concrete on the ground, several small holes could occasionally be seen, likely where some kinds of metal fixtures had sat at some point. Occasional depressions along the ground supposedly spoke to flower beds or other plant displays used for decoration of all things. All of that dirt had been collected and repurposed in the agriculture domes decades ago. Even her own apartment hadn't been spared. It, along with every single other apartment in the Domes had all housed their own food preparation equipment at some point! It had obviously been repurposed long before she had hatched, along with most of the lighting fixtures & the wiring in the buildings. I can't even imagine it, why would everyone need their own cooking equipment? That just seems wasteful...

She cast her eyes upwards as she approached the dome's edge. Here near the wall, metal catwalks could be spotted hanging by the fake sky of screens. They were subtle things, clearly designed to draw as little attention as possible, but impossible to miss once you knew they existed. Ahato had noticed them since she was four. They ran between doors subtly embedded in the walls that were again, obvious once you knew to look for them. [Supposedly, they just lead into some kind of office, but really, who knows. Only thing for sure is that it's not an exit.]

Her eyes came back down, weary of the outer access road now that she was practically stepping on it. Said road simply encircled everything within the dome, wide enough for vehicles to pass each other going either direction. That was how used to work in the Domes; the transport would move it as close as it could via the roads, and the payload would be carried onwards by foot. In residential domes like this one, the roads weren't used for anything but getting to the next one. Nobody living here ever had anything to big to carry. Even someone like me is able to carry everything I need back home.

These days, something new had been implemented. The outer road itself was covered by two streams of magenta ink, one for each lane. If she squinted, she could see the reason for such a revolution a ways down the road. Making its way in her direction was an autonomous device called a flooder. It was essentially a large tank, carefully propped up on four thin legs with wheels on the bottom. It had several sensors on the front, vaguely resembling eyes, and a thin red laser pointed down at the ground. From the bottom of the tank, a steady trickle of magenta ink was released, refreshing the ink coating the road. The new device caught on nearly instantly, shipments didn't need to wait for the trucks to fill to minimize fuel usage. Using a special kind of shipment container, invented by the same engineer who made the flooders, cargo could be delivered without using engines at all. It took more manual manual labor than the trucks, but it was a massive net-positive for efficiency. DJ Octavio himself had come to see the first use of the new system; it's subsequent success elevated the already-revered engineer to legendary status, and that was only one example of her work. Even with all this amazing progress, I miss the sound of the trucks sometimes. It's way too quiet in here without them.

Ahato waited for the flooder to pass, then started across the freshly-inked road. An aggressive tingling feeling bloomed within her foot the moment her boot made contact with the ground. A tired glance at the claws on her fingers revealed how her ink color had been shifting back towards its natural light blue. Luckily, it only started shifting back recently, and her boots were thick enough that there wasn't really any consequences aside from the tingling. It wasn't exactly a comfortable experience, but really that was par for the course these days. With a grumble, she stalked across the road while mentally commanding her ink back towards the approved color. She'd have to wait for the color to change back to magenta before she could continue with her trip. Well, that gives me a moment to check where I'm even goinghere I'm even going.

Ahato propped herself against a wall and pulled out her pager. It was a small, rectangular device with rounded corners about the length of her pointer finger, claw not included. It fit comfortably in her palm, making it easy to hold up to read. The bottom of the device slid forwards slightly, revealing a small 12 button keypad, designed in the style of a landline phone. A small, green-tinted screen just big enough to display three short lines of text took up all the available space on the top part. It could send a message wirelessly to anyone, thanks to special infrastructure designed to carry the signal between domes. She tapped the left-most button to turn the screen on, and then lazily navigated through the clunky menus to find a specific contact. Alright command, what clamshit am I doing today?

0300 - CMND --> AHMZ
Mizuta
Outpost Sys Inst
Ag E; Cr. Ardrana

Easy enough then, just installing an outpost system in Agricultural Dome E. Ardrana, though? I hate that rusted bastard.

She checked her ink color by glancing at her claws. Its color was closer, but still not quite close enough for the next step in her travels. She backed out of the message from Command, and looked for another contact in her list. Alright Ms. Revered Engineer, let's see what I can get you to tell me.

0655 - AHMZ --> MRNA
Yo Marina
What's going in w the lockdown
Imari's not telling

It could take Marina some time to respond-- no telling how busy she was at that moment-- so Ahato turned her attention back to the world around her. She was standing in the Primary Residential B Transition, a hub bordering three long tunnels that connected to the three nearest domes. They were essentially extensions of the outer road, with sidewalks added on either side for pedestrians. People were allowed to swim in the flooder ink for faster travel so long as they moved out of the way for transports. She was focused on the right most tunnel for this trip, and lucky her: there was one other way to get around that didn't involve walking or swimming. And extra lucky me, there's no line.

A kettle sat on either side of the tunnel. They were technically reserved for military use, so high-ranking officials always had a quick transport available if needed. Said officials don't actually travel very often though, so the reservation system unofficially worked more like a tier system, with higher positions having a higher priority. If you weren't in the military, you technically weren't allowed to use them at all. Realistically though, there's no guards. So long as a commander doesn't see you, anyone can use them.

One final glance at her tentacles revealed her color was only two or three shades off. With an internal shrug, Ahato situated herself by the kettle's opening. She didn't have a weapon, so she had to hold her hand against the ink receiver and push ink from it for about 12 seconds. When enough had been given, she quickly ducked into swim form as the chamber rapidly filled with ink, and a few moments later, was shot off towards the Commercial Dome with a loud whistle. Never not a rush.

She arrived about two minutes later, emerging from the end point kettle with a small splash of off-magenta ink. It took just a second to pull herself from the chamber and to her feet, and just a few more to stride out of the Secondary Commercial Transition, into the dome proper. This dome was nearly identical to the residential domes, with the ink-covered access road on the outside, and a grid system of buildings on the inside. The key difference was High Command, the large circular building in the center that nearly reached the top of the dome. That was where their leader, DJ Octavio, as well as many of the top officials in the military lived and worked. It was a truly impressive building, which was only heightened by the fact it was the only building in the Domes that hadn't had all of its decorations salvaged for resources. A second, ring-shaped building surrounded the first, equal in its grandeur, if not in height. It was only about 5 stories tall with a curved roof, and glass walls. It housed most of the governmental departments & their offices, the department of commerce was out amongst the shops. I remember when my class got to tour the buildings, it felt just as impressive inside as it looked.

The sky of screens met her as it always did, infinitely spanning and only a stone's throw away. The simulated weather was slightly different here, being closer to overcast on the far side of the dome from her. It wasn't the same simulation played in every dome, as far as they could tell, it was all one massive simulation, where the screens in the Domes only showing what the weather on the surface was actually like. That's part of what made the whole thing feel at least a little real. A light chirp sounds from her pocket; someone sent her a message. Please be Marina.

0659 - MRNA --> AHMZ
Acht, Hi!
Inkling scout
Hes good, but just one of him

Marina Ida, her one, and really only friend. Sure, other people would talk to her, but it wasn't ever anything more than superficial. Ahato had met Marina in school, after she knew her future was over, but before she had to face it directly; so about three years before she graduated. She had completely given up on trying to perform well, only doing just enough to avoid getting in trouble, and often not even that much. Fully content with slowly fading into the background, and neither she or anyone else tried to stop it. On the other claw, Marina was excelling in almost everything so thoroughly she was boosted up several grades, getting placed in Ahato's class. It was apparent from day one how much she stood out from everyone else there. This little [six-year-old octolet] was showing almost every one else in the class up on an hourly basis. She didn't have her adult form at the time either, which only served to further the divide. Two outcasts stuck in a room together, is it any surprise we clicked?

Ahato simply not immediately leaving when Marina walked up to her was enough sign for the younger girl to start talking. It was a torrent of information about some kind of hydraulic system or some other thing way over Ahato's head, but little Marina looked so excited and happy that someone was listening at all. Things settled into an easy routine for the two: Marina would excitedly share the latest thing she was working on while Ahato listened and Ahato would talk about her music to an enraptured Marina. Marina had even given her a silly nickname at some point. It really wasn't anything more than that, conversation and company, but it was everything to both of them. I miss those days too.

The two were nearly inseparable until Ahato graduated. She left schooling all together while Marina remained, continuing on into engineering school. They kept in close contact, but it was hard on both of them. Ahato's life drifted into a series of repetition, just a haze of days blending together as she just coasted through life. Marina did the smart thing: the opposite of what she had done. She'd gone on to be one of, if not the most decorated engineer in the Domes since the Original Engineers walked. She made the flooders before she even graduated for Octavio's sake! Ahato was wearing her prototype glasses right now! Marina one of the most known figures in the Domes, all before she'd even turned 16. And yet, she still finds the time to talk to me.

0704 AHMZ --> MRNA
Sounds like a pest
Anything exciting going on there?
Alls boring here. Just more sys insts

Still, it had been a while since they had gotten the chance to sit down and see each other again. Somewhere in the realm of ten months and even then that meeting had been brief. It was nice that they still talked via pager, but that was pretty plainly not comparable to a real conversation. A quiet part of her felt like they might be drifting apart with such infrequent contact. I'm sure I'm just being paranoid. Marina's real busy being all important, I can't really blame her for not having time.

Ahato put the pager in her pocket as she crossed the outer access road. Her ink was still about the right color, so her feet didn't tingle as she crossed. The buildings on the outer sections were short, only about 3 or 4 stories high. They grew gradually taller as they got closer to High Command, offering more housing and in some cases, workshops for the independent craftsmen who operate stores out of the lower floors. All of the buildings had been stripped like the residential domes. It's probably faster to cut through the shops...

She decided against it, going so far as to take the long way around the outside edge. Her mind began to wander as she traveled, as it usually did. Her mind turned to her current situation and why she was stuck in it. Not like there was anything better to think about. *Not unless I want to start tracking how different Splatoons move around the domes. Tracking any single group would be a great way to waste several hours and get nothing back.

Upon her own graduation, Ahato had been 'mercifully' granted a position technically under the jurisdiction of the Systems and Development office. As one of their techs, she was mainly responsible for on-site instillation, connection and configuration of new systems. It took less than 6 months of training for her to be released into the workforce, where she'd done the same thing for the last [six or so years]. Seeing as she wasn't actually in the military, there wasn't any hope of being promoted beyond a technician. Career wise, there was no escaping where she was right now. *Honestly I don't know if being promoted would even be better, then I'd have to do paperwork.

All the other technicians on her level were also soldiers. They had to balance the expectations of being a soldier with the work the techs needed done. All of which was to say, they were very busy. By comparison, if Ahato didn't have a task assigned that day, she'd only leave her apartment to get food. Command was well aware of this disparity, essentially dooming Ahato to be the sole instillation tech for the entire complex. *At least my job is secure. I doubt anyone else knows how to install these things anymore.

0722 - MRNA --> AHMZ
Just a buncha nerds
Pouring over blueprints
Long Days

Ahato smirked at her pager. Of course the days are long, you nerd. You're the best damn engineer in this place.

0722 - AHMZ --> MRNA
Told u thatd happen
dont stare too long
turn on a light

0729 - AHMZ --> MRNA
Do u think we could meet soon?
If ur not too busy
Its been a while

The commercial dome was substantially bigger than the others. It was designed to be capable of housing the entire human population that once lived here during a time of crisis, and there had been a lot more humans than octavians. [There were actually 22 domes in total, but 7 of them were in poor enough condition that High Command had condemned them.] Though I think it's Public C that is still open for transport only.

Ahato cast a glance around her. She was making good pace, but she wasn't anywhere near her the next transition yet. Good time to slow down some. She was currently stopped at one of the four intersections that bisected the center of the dome. Unlike the residential domes, two roads ran right through the center of the commercial dome, roughly dividing the space into four equal sectors. The roads actually ran through High Command in the center, but gates and shudders in the walls and buildings were lowered to prevent anyone from freely passing through. There wasn't any incoming transports or flooders right this moment, so she crossed the ink-covered street with an easy amble. Somewhere a bit further inward, a speaker blared music, a relatively new band called ScrewStomp if her memory served. One day I'll... One day.

0801 - MRNA --> AHMZ
Very busy, but I have an opening soon
If you want to catch up
You can see our work maybe

0802 - MRNA --> AHMZ
You have to come to me though
I can't leave until its done
On 09/3?

Well, that's a surprise. Marina with free time? They must be making something special then. That's when... next week? Alright let me open up my schedule.

0804 - AHMZ --> CMND
Yo CMD
don't schedule me on Sep 3rd
I won't show

0804 - AHMZ --> MRNA
Sched is clear that day
Excited 2 see you
Where am I going

She casually strolled across the outer access road as she stepped towards the next transition, the Primary Central Transition. This one also had three tunnels, as was common for the more central domes. The left-most led to the performance dome, which was essentially just a massive, open space surrounded by stands. The right most led to one of the two mechanical domes. They were dark, cramped spaces filled with the machinery and systems needed to keep the complex as a whole livable. She'd not been into one of those since her class visited them nearly 8 years ago. She could still remember practically seeing stars in Marina's eyes as they were shown the various systems, mechanical or otherwise. Supposedly, someone's set up a some kind of club hidden down in the soundproofed area. Probably the smartest thing anyone down here's done.

She strode straight to the middle kettle, the one that lead to Agricultural Dome D. Same process as before, same jolt of thrill as before, and she was standing in the Secondary Ag D Transition. Like all the other domes, the agriculture domes had the access road along the outside, but they were markedly distinct on the inside. Rather than a slice of cityscape, a singular structure made of seven distinct layers stacked vertically dominated the entire space. Each layer, as they were called, housed a field growing a rotation of crops that varied throughout the year. As a society, they had been forced to identify the most efficient farming methods possible, as only four of the agricultural domes were in an operational state. [That left 28 fields suitable for growing. Of those 28, 4 were left empty per season, to give the soil time to replenish, meaning there's only ever 24 operational fields.] The empty field would, at some point during the growing season, be used as a temporary training field for the military, to prepare for potential action on the surface. There was no telling what that fight could be like, so it was best to prepare for other possibilities, even if only in a limited capacity. *Plus, the ink helps the soil recover. It's not that bad of a system, really.

This dome wasn't her stop, so it was another case of walking the outer circle. Luckily, she only needed to travel about 1/5th of the way around, due to the layout. With nothing better to do, she stared down the 'beautiful' scenery of the ag domes for the thousandth time that year. They were, to be blunt, nothing special. Once one got over the initial shock of the farm stacks, it really wasn't much different from any of the other domes. The sky of screens still watched over everything, gloomier in this dome than it had been in the other. The road still circled the outside, the flooders still coating it in magenta. The catwalks were slightly different, they reached out to the 4th layer of the farm, actually making contact rather than just hanging over the edges like usual. That's about it, though.

The walk to the Secondary Transition was otherwise completely uneventful; just Ahato alone with her thoughts like usual. This transition was nearly identical to the other two she'd already been through, three tunnels all pointing different directions towards other domes. The middle path led to Public Dome D, another dome that was left wide open for use. Supposedly it was large and nature-based when the humans had lived here, but that had long died out over the several thousands of years the Domes sat unused. The military set up most of their facilities in that type of dome using all the resources scraped from the rest of the complex. Left tunnel is back to the performance dome... right it is then.

Another quick dunk into a kettle and she was standing in the Primary Agriculture Dome E Transition. The place was identical to the previous dome she was just standing in. As Lovely as ever...

0848 - MRNA --> AHMZ
Oh good to hear!
Public G
SO Excited :D

0849 - AHMZ --> MRNA
Me2
At site now, might text later
cya

Ahato slid her pager into her pocket before stepping towards the massive pillar of fields in front of her. Ladders were easily accessible on every support pillar holding up the layers, including the one directly across the way from her. With a very begrudging sigh, Ahato stepped across the road, gripped the first rung above her, and pulled. And I'm going to the top field. Lucky me.

She was about half a layer from the top when a face peered over the edge to look at her. Ahato couldn't tell much about them from here, in part because the face was cast in shadow, but mostly because it took most of her effort to keep her arms from shaking as she pulled herself up the next rung. She could make out the smirk though, that was hard to miss. The person stepped back as Ahato neared the top. I thought all the soldiers were on leave today.

When she reached the top, Ahato shoved her right arm forward, showing off the silver bracelet she wore on it. "Mizuta, Systems and Development."

The surly looking soldier looked her up and down for several moments. "Jiro. Roller Specialty Squad A." She was a bit on the shorter side, her build somewhat stout. Muscles were evident, no doubt from countless of hours spent hefting a roller though various combat routines. Her mantle was cut short; small bangs framed her face with the back only falling to about her neck. Two little tentacles stuck up from the back of her head, almost looking like horns if they weren't so far back. Two emerald eyes sat above a passive smirk looked her over. Do I know her? Ahato thought about it for a moment, before concluding she's seen Jiro around a few other install points over the years. The specialty squads are usually the ones to set up the outposts.

Ahato let out a low whistle as she finished hauling herself up the ladder. She took extra effort to keep her shortness of breath out of her voice. "They got you guys building these things? Do you even get a chance to use your weapons any more?" Ahato pointedly didn't reach for her shoulder, despite the flare of pain the climb caused. She seems nice at least.

"HA!" Jiro braced one her hands on her hips as she laughed. "Not nearly as often as I'd like." She turned and waved over her shoulder, casually walking across the empty field. "Outpost Command is just over here."

Ahato followed, doing her best to recover her breath and stamina from the climb. Army regiment or not, climbing 14 stories worth of ladder would wind anyone. Walking on dirt was always a bit odd. The way the ground shifts ever so slightly with every step just felt bizarre. It wasn't uncommon for soldiers to trip during their first trainings as they accidentally kicked dirt out from under their feet. To accentuate the dirt drills, several different obstacles were set up throughout the field: walls, hurdles, barriers, banisters, and fences, all of which were made of recycled metal. There were places where soldiers would drop from near the ceiling to practice landing, super jumping, and even swim form hopping in dirt. All in all, for a training facility built in about two days, it was fairly impressive. And now it's on me to bring it online.

In the center of the field, a building was built around an elevator shaft designed for transporting crops & machinery up and down the layers. The building she was walking towards was a little bit to the left of that one. Outpost Command was a rectangular building suspended maybe a foot of the ground by floaters as to not mess up the soil. There were three very distinct visual layers; metal at the bottom, glass in the middle, and more metal at the top. It was a two-room building, the central room had the system she was working on, and the outer room with the window that ran all the way around it. That means I get to be left alone... mostly.

Wires snaked down from the ceiling, into the building. Some powered the floater platform Outpost Command was built atop, and the rest would power the system she was about to install. Typically, all the power on this layer would be run into the UV heat lamps on the ceiling to help the crops grow. A majority of that power was being diverted into batteries and powering Command, leaving the heat lamps functioning primarily as lights. Much like the screens that formed the sky, they actually had very little control over the lighting systems. Any changes they wanted to make had to be done via directly interfacing with the power cables themselves. Thank Octavio it's not scorching up here, at least.

"It's just a basic outpost system, right?" Ahato asked her escort as they approached Outpost Command. "Standard install? No additional discs or cores?"

Jiro lulled her head over her shoulder and gave Ahato a flat look. "The hell are you asking me for? I'm just a grunt." Before Ahato could respond, the soldier rapped her knuckles on the door twice, the knock easily audible through the thin metal walls. Oh rusted hell I forgot it's him.

"Coordinator Ardrana, sir!" Jiro obediently announced as the door swung open. The lazy, disinterested soldier had completely vanished. Jiro stood completely straight, right arm stiff by her side while she offered a four-finger saluted with her left. Ahato hadn't even seen her move. "Technical Specialist Mizuta is here from Systems and Development." It's a pleasure, inkbag.

Ardrana, for his part, looked equally displeased to see her. He was a boxy man, with his mantle pressed slick to against head. As a Coordinator, he was likely the highest ranking person here, (unless a WSU member happened to be passing through,) though his uniform was nearly identical to everyone else's. The only difference was on his right shoulder, where he wore a yellow sleeve designating his rank as a coordinator. He was shorter than Ahato, but clearly relished standing taller than her at the moment. *I'd sweep your feet in an instant if it wouldn't get me detained.

"Mizuta." he sneered her name, not bothering to hide his distaste. He was, unfortunately, very similar to her sister; more concerned about what Ahato wasn't doing, capability be damned. "Oh-nine-fourteen." He drawled, lazily looking at the pager in his palm before looking back to her. "You're late." Am I now? Oh no. What am I going to do?

She was, in fact, very late. Officially, she was to show up at 0800 for any system instillation. Ahato hadn't been on time in years, and there hadn't been a single consequence yet, save for Ardrana testing her patience. Despite the late start, she knew the install would still be done well ahead of schedule. As the only tech in the Domes who installs outpost systems, she's gotten pretty damn good pulling them together. Not that he cares. Ardy here woulda found something else to can me for if I was on time.

"Apologies sir." Ahato matched his drawl, not bothering to salute or even meet his eyes. "There were no transports for me to ride along on, I had to walk."

He tsk'd, but didn't argue. "Mmm. Well, you're here now, at least. You have my clearance to proceed with your installation." Without another word, Coordinator Ardrana turned, closes the door rather forcefully, and stalked back into the ramshackle building. Ahato watched with a lazy, smug smile as he charged out the door on the other side of the building. Bye bye Arty! See you in a few hours!

Ahato turned to look at Jiro, who had collapsed back into her lazy posture the second the coordinator's eyes weren't on her. "I really hate that guy."

Jiro met her eyes. Verbally, the soldier said "Be careful when addressing officers." Spiritually, Jiro said "You're in good company." I imagine most people here agree.

"Are you my guard or something?" Ahato asked.

"Nah. I'm just bored. You've got your thing to start, I guess I gotta get back to mine too. G'luck techie." Jiro lazily waved as she turned and ambled away. Techie. Eugh.

With a lazy wave, Ahato walked into the floating building, pulling the door open and stepping inside. A small handful of ranked officials clustered inside the building, but none of them paid her any mind beyond a nod. Stepping inside the center room revealed an absolute mess of parts haphazardly strewn everywhere. It was just a straight up wasted mess. Components were stacked precariously, loose screws coated the floor, unspooled tangles of wires covered the few flat surfaces she had to work with.

It was a nightmare. Taking inventory was suddenly the most daunting part of the entire process. The tentacles on her head all curled involuntarily, frustration obvious. I'm going to kill the motherfucker who left this.

With no other option, Ahato bit back the growl in her throat. She ignored the flare of pain in her shoulder, fairly sure it was just her imagining things. With tensed hands, Ahato slid the headphones up from around her neck and set them over her ears. Immediately, she felt calmer with them on, though nothing could truly quell the frustration she felt in this moment. A bit of fiddling with nobs alongside the back of the headphones switched them on. A bit more fiddling and the headphones were playing music from a memory card. Time to get this over with.

It took nearly three hours to get everything counted, inventoried, and then properly sorted. There ended up being a small handful of extra parts, several of which were not even for the system being worked on. This antenna is mine now. So is this battery, and maybe the RAM stick too. Consider it payment from whoever the hell did this.

After the sorting, it took an hour to actually get everything in place. It took another two hours to get everything plugged in properly. Running cords was simple in concept, but rather difficult in execution, if you wanted it to be any kind of usable at least. Her armor's underlayer served to help cushion her against hard surfaces she had to press against for minutes on end. The server rack, the monitors, the speaker, the receiving antenna, the keyboard and trackpad, and a few other odd ends all ultimately end up connected. Now I just have to make sure it's all plugged in right.

Finding someone to approve her connection to the power grid took forty minutes. Ardrana was no where to be found, probably because he was trying to make her life harder. Ultimately she got approval from some other commander who's name she wasn't quite angry enough to remember. A few cords turned out to be incorrectly plugged, but that was only a few minutes of work. I mean, I am a professional.

Connecting the system to the network was always the most, eh, dynamic part. The systems used by the military and the systems responsible for running the Domes were two very different things. The Domes were controlled by a human-made system which had been running in a dormant state when they moved in. The Original Engineers were clever enough to reactivate and fix the life support system, but very little in regards to actually manipulating it was understood. As a result, the military had to develop their own computer network, and the outcome was not very inspiring by comparison. Calling it a glorified communications network did a disservice to both its capabilities and the pager system. It was capable of doing more, it was just... touchy about when. Octavio have mercy, please let this go smoothly.

Connecting the system took another hour. Network connectivity was fully confirmed with a series of 20 ping tests. Communications connectivity was confirmed with an inventory & instillation report sent to High Command. With only an additional 15 minutes to bully Ardrana back to the outpost to verify everything was alright, Ahato was free to go. And still done on time, despite the set back. Not bad.

The trip back home was utterly uneventful. She stopped by the communal meal hall in the commercial district for some food. The taste was a bit plain, but never anything bad. With her take-home provisions in hand, she made her other mandatory stop. Inside the ink donation center, she was asked (required) to give as much spare ink as her body could provide now that her day was effectively over. The ink would go towards the flooders to keep the roads covered. All that remained was to quietly walk the rest of the way back home. Right, let me officially sign out for the day.

1816 - AHMZ --> CMND
Install done, req sent
I'm srs about the 3rd
I will not go

1849 - AHMZ --> MRNA
I'm fully cleared for the 3rd
Keep me updated

When Ahato returned home, she stopped in the doorway. By now, her right shoulder was feeling very sore from the spasm that morning, the ladder climb, the system install, and the general stress she almost always felt these days. She was still somewhat angry about the install too, though the walk and meal had let her mostly cool down. Right now, Ahato was seriously weighing if she could handle another direct confrontation with Imari. *The answer to that is no.

That's how she found herself creeping quietly through her apartment. It felt... odd to do so. Not that she wasn't usually quiet when she was here, it was just usually not deliberate. She didn't have much to say when people were around, so in their absence she tended to be basically silent. Now, she was trying deliberately to avoid her sister. It seemed Imari was gone for the moment, but only for the moment, as her octoshot was still in the spare room she was sleeping in. *She probably went to the meal hall. We missed each other while walking then.

After ducking into her own room, Ahato decided to get comfortable. Off came the armor, bracelet, gloves, boots, and glasses, all of which got placed back in the wardrobe or desk, whichever was appropriate. She grabbed a simple drawstring bag kept hidden in the desk drawer, and shoveled all her music equipment inside. She didn't bother with anything else, instead speeding towards the apartment's exit, and the nearest stairwell outside of that. Rather than down though, Ahato climbed up this time, sitting herself down on the building's roof with her back against the stairwell. Maybe I should thank whoever fucked up that install, actually.

Ahato eagerly emptied the bag, carefully setting each piece of equipment and their appropriate cords in front of her. She emptied her pockets next, the antenna and RAM stick she snatched from the job site clattering onto the ground in front of her laptop. The battery she held carefully, as she reached over to a small stack of wires sitting on her laptop. A few moments of work later, and the battery had a pair of wires expertly wrapped around it. With her laptop now plugged in and charging, Ahato wasted no time booting the thing up and plugging in her equipment. I've not been up here in ages! Surely this will be just what I need.

It took just a few moments for the system to boot. Ahato thoughtlessly typed the commands needed to launch the music program she copied from someone years ago. Tonight would be the night Ahato had a break through, it had to be. I need it to be.
.
.
.
And three hours later, as Ahato stared blankly at the screen, she had to admit it wasn't. She dejectedly set the laptop and all its connections to the side, before scooting down the wall to get some distance from them. She absently reached up to her headphones and switched the channel from her laptop to the public music one. She stared up at the now darkened, 'star speckled' sky as some industrial song fought weakening radio waves to reach her headphones. Why do I bother?

She really had no choice but to wonder. Why do I try so hard for music that never pans out. She would go insane otherwise, that was why. There wasn't anything else she could do. She couldn't be a soldier, her muscle spasms prevented her from ever apprenticing a craftsman, or a cook, or really anyone. I can't give anything else but music!

Ahato leaned her head back in frustration. The sudden motion caused the already tentative radio signal to fizzle further than was listenable. With a huff, Ahato pulled them off and held them in her hands. She took a deep breath and a few moments with her eyes closed to relax. That was another spiral. Don't want to do that again.

She sent a glance at the pile of equipment a few feet away, but paused when her eyes swept over the discarded antenna from earlier. An idea quickly formed as she reached over and snatched it. A few moments later and she was carefully holding the headphones between her legs, inspecting the left side. It appeared to be just a flat silver surface, but a bit of searching with her claw caught a small, nearly invisible groove in the side. It took a careful bit of wedging, but the side of the headphones was quickly popped off, revealing a neat mess of parts inside. Alright, let's get this antenna hooked up then. Least I won't have to worry about a poor radio signal while I mope.

Simple as they were, these headphones were one of the few things Ahato was proud of. Over the years, she herself fixed them up, turning them from a garbage pair meant for recycle into something actually nice. They looked like a decent item, rather than bundled scrap, a rarity for non-mass produced items in the Domes. Typically, weapons & armor were the only things to receive such honor, but Ahato has had near-unrestricted access to loose parts, and nothing but time. Her instruments were a similar story. The laptop was given to her by S&D, everything else she had salvaged from the recycle plant and fixed herself. I may not be Head Engineer levels of handy, but I know my way around some.

Ahato was very careful while she worked. The industrial beat sputtering through the headphone speakers abruptly cut off as two wires were delicately pinched between her claws. It was unfortunate she only had a weak, basic receiver when she first built the headphones. Most of her time with them had been plagued by poor connection like what happened minutes ago. Lucky for her, she just got a brand new antenna to stick on. Should be as simple as...

Ahato lost herself for a few minutes as she carefully rewired the left side of her headphones. The antenna was held in place by the same wire running into it, wrapped just so that the tip rested just above the peak of the headphones. It looked a bit silly with the exposed side, but that's not an issue right now. She could patch that up later. All that mattered was if it worked. With very little reverence, Ahato placed the headphones over her ears, and flipped the power switch. And nothing happened, save for the quiet hum of static. Oh, I flicked the frequency dial while hooking everything up.

With an equal amount of non-reverence, Ahato reached up to the frequency, rested a claw against it, and pushed. The dial didn't budge. A bit of feeling about reveled the base of the antenna was pushed against the dial, making it harder to turn. With a huff of frustration, Ahato put more force than she should into turning the dial, causing it to spin through several channels rapidly. Before she was given any change to even think, something started playing through the headphones.

--arahi  
Nyurunirehara fe fe fe

Ya weni marei mirekyarahire  
Juri yu mirekerason

Kire hyari yoriherahe nyurahera  
Nunnyura unera yurawera fimera

Na nire jute mirekyaraherya  
Nire yu mirekerason

Kire hyari nuriherahe nyura--
Copy

It was... words she couldn't understand. But the music was energetic, bouncy, electric, fun. There was a... a whimsy to it that she'd never heard anywhere before. A synth blared while a steady pulse thumped underneath, as Ahato sat there stunned. The chorus kicked up, bubbly and free. It made her want to move.

And then it abruptly stopped. The heavenly melody lost inside a sea of static. It was gone. Ahato sat, completely blindsided by the sudden musical onslaught. There'd never been anything like that in her world. Everything she knew was so... steady? No, focused. Formal. Determined. Militaristic?

She couldn't find the word to describe what she was feeling. Instead of thinking on that , Ahato slid back down the wall and threw her laptop into her lap. If I can't find the words, I'll just explain it another way.

Ahato started working.