Mephiles: Hello there everybody, this fan fiction is going to be a tad bit more serious than most of the other ones I have written and will focus mainly on Holland and his time and life as a full fledged commander of the S.O.F. Because of this there will be several battles occuring and not everything will necessarily turn out morally correct due to the fact that the story deals with an elite military asset squad. I apologise for any continuinity errors which may occur ecspecially with Chales and Ray, but the anime never really describes the past accuratly. As always I would appreciate reviews and advice and hope you enjoy the story.
Wrecked Him
"She didn't even leave a note?" Charles asked, the SOF commander's tone clearly revealing both his incredulity as well as his amusement.
"Now Charles, be considerate, Holland is having a difficult time." Coming from Ray these words brought a momentary look of apology to the raccoon-faced man's features.
"Nonsense Ray! Holland knows it's not such a big deal, right Holland!" He declared as he slapped the smaller man on the back.
Holland didn't respond. It was a big deal. He was having a difficult time. And he wasn't paying his companions any attention at all. His mind was still full of that person's absence. Diane Thurston.
The three elite KLF pilots were seated at their usual spots in the bar. They didn't reserve the table, but anybody who went there knew that you didn't sit in their seats, not unless you had just taken out a huge insurance policy on broken bones. The Blizzard Bar was frequented almost entirely by military personnel, a consequence of being the closest source of alcohol to the Farlan Heights Military Base. Most civilians did not take too kindly to soldiers in their bars, and they had a certain amount of good reason for it. So to avoid unnecessary trouble, the soldiers effectively conquered the nearest establishments, and the civilians by and large ignored them. The arrangement suited everybody. Holland, like most of the SOF, was something of a hard drinker, and he, Charles and Ray, were well known customers to the staff, but today he hadn't even finished his first beer. All he could think about was the fact that the girl he had given his heart to, had left without a word.
He had known she was unhappy, or perhaps more accurately dissatisfied. From the very beginning of their relationship he had come to slowly understand that more than anything else she wanted to prove right the theories and research of her father, the legendary Adrock. She had told Holland openly that her fascination with her father's work took precedence even over her relationships, but Holland had only heard and not really understood. He had always believed that in time she would put her father's presence behind her, and that he could draw her back to the real world and be the man to give her what she needed. Bitterly he now realized that he may not have understood what she needed at all.
May not have understood her at all.
Throughout their time together she had never stopped in her self-imposed mission to fulfil Adrock's work, the last time he had seen her she had been at her monitor, engrossed with the research, uncaring of the world around her, including him. It hurt, deeper than he was comfortable with admitting, that she used his access to restricted military files and locations to investigate Adrock's legacy. It left him feeling used. That night (had it really only been two days ago?) she had told him that she could not find what she was looking for there. Could not find what she was looking for while she was with him. The choice was between her mission and Holland. Holland wished that she could have at least pretended it was a difficult one.
He had arrived home the next night to find the apartment silent; all of Diane's things had been removed. There was no note, no message, no hint that she had been there at all. If not for his memories of their time together it may as well never have happened. The hollowness of his soul echoed the damning emptiness of his apartment.
He missed her with every fibre of his being.
"Hey, Holland," Ray asked gently, "You haven't even touched your drink." The care in her voice was obvious, it served only to remind him of the affection he had lost.
He turned his attention to his friends, fixing Charles with a look that he hoped concealed the way he was feeling, "So how's your relationship coming along then?"
It was a bitter question, one that Holland would not have asked normally. He was well aware of how difficult it must be for Charles and Ray. The military took a very harsh view on romantic fraternisation between personnel, particularly between a subordinate and superior. Charles was one of the two commanders of the SOF, Ray under his direct authority, if the Intelligence Department caught wind of their relationship both would face serious repercussions. Yet the two were far too much in love to let petty things like rules and regulations interfere, and so far they had managed to keep their interactions under the radar, if in no small part due to the collaboration of the majority of the SOF. To ask Charles about their relationship so candidly, in a bar full of soldiers was a very nasty thing to do, but Holland felt nothing but envy of his fellow KLF pilot at that moment. Sure he could make light of the situation because he had Ray. He had every fucking thing he could want, irrelevant of whether his relationship had to be kept covert; he still had the women he loved at hand, and in his damn bed. Above that, she was as totally devoted to him as it was possible to be, why could Diane not have shared a similar dedication? What had he lacked to make her run off with so little regret?
"Oh, it's coming along just fine Holland." Charles said evenly, his smile not faltering an inch, "How 'bout yours Ray?"
"My guy's just perfect, actually." The foxy women answered with a look of loving admiration at Charles that hit Holland like a kick in the gut, "Is your girl pretty?" she asked Charles with sparkles in her eyes.
"She's beautiful as Trappar Dust at sunset, as clever as a fox and as absolutely wonderful as it is possible for a person to be." He replied, his hand slipping behind her shoulders as he spoke.
"Charles..." Ray exhaled, fear and desire fighting for supremacy in her voice.
The mood changed, Charles returned to his sitting position, and Ray looked down at the table with an abashed expression on her face.
Holland regretted engendering the situation but was in no mood to apologise, he realised that in his present condition he was a danger to his friends, his hurt made him numb to their circumstances. He wasn't even sure why he had met with them.
In the silence at the table Holland rose and faced the two, "I'm gonna go to bed, my unit's got a task at Contario to take care of tomorrow, so I'll be seeing you guys after I get back."
"You sure you're alright? You know you can talk to us about things." Charles surprised Holland by showing earnest concern for his friend.
"Yeah but I've got to figure this out for myself." The silver-haired pilot grimaced at the older man, "see you guys round."
"Alright, see ya." Charles nodded.
"Good-bye." Ray added with a note of regret in her farewell.
After he had left the two remaining SOF pilots began the time honoured tradition of cross-examining their friend's situation behind his back.
"It's a good thing that he finally got loose from that girl." Charles declared with conviction, "She was nothing but trouble."
"Now Charles, how can you say such a thing?" Ray responded with a shake of her head, "Couldn't you see how much he felt for her? She was his first after all, it's always difficult."
"Not arguing with that," Charles lifted his hands defensively, "but everyone has to deal with their first break-up eventually. Or else how can you move on?"
"Don't say it so callously!" Ray exclaimed, her voice sharp, "Breaking a relationship must never be a small thing! Love is not something that should be treated like a passing phase."
"Of course not! I said no such thing! Once one finds the women one loves one must hold her closer than one's own heart and giving up one's life must come before giving up her love! That is what true love must mean to a man." Charles spoke with the surety of a true believer, the cadence of his words filled with heart-felt meaning. It was so puissant that Ray felt her heart throb that the man she loved could hold such an absolute devotion, and prayed that she could match it in turn. "But little Miss Thurston did not love Holland."
"I guess she didn't." Ray conceded.
"Her heart was on something else. Holland, however, did not know, and still doesn't know, what real love should feel like. What he felt for her was new to him, and simply put she could use his naivety to manipulate him. Hopefully now that his heart is no longer a puppet on her string he can find a true love."
"Why do you think he, as you say, doesn't know what real love feels like?" Ray asked, her hands slipping into his under the table, their fingers playing with all the passion that propriety disallowed them showing in public.
"Well..." Charles frowned, his big honest face focused on her, his brow furrowed, "I think the fault probably lies with his family."
"Love is something peculiar amongst the Novaks."
Holland sat glumly on the floor of his room, his eyes staring unseeingly at the bed. At his feet lay every picture and every piece of memorabilia of Diane's presence that he possessed. A shirt she had bought him, a set of Liftboard cleaning tools, three Skyfish eggs she had given him on a picnic and about four pictures. That was all.
Of the pictures, only two actually showed Diane, both the others were taken by her of Holland. She had left them behind as well. Of the two showing her, one was a very personal shot Holland had taken one night. It showed her splayed across his bed, her top pushed up to expose her firm breasts, whilst her legs were held in the air as she removed her black panties with one hand whilst running the other between her legs, her face was smiling seductively, her entire arched body exuding desire and sexuality. But in her eyes Holland could not help but catch a hint of disinterest, the smallest glimpse into the fact that she was not performing for Holland's benefit, but her own. That everything she was so blatantly offering him in the image was nothing more than a bribe of flesh and pleasure so that she could more easily achieve her mission. Holland hated her for using him like that, hated her for manipulating him, but more than anything he hated her for the fact that she made him feel so good when she was around. He hated her for the fact that he loved her.
With a sharp, vicious motion he seized the photo and tore it in two, making sure to tear directly through the gap between her hatefully beautiful legs, right through her body and face. The action vented the smallest fraction of his frustration. He felt a savage, harsh satisfaction at the damage he had done to this object of his devotion to her. It was the cathartic pleasure of breaking a shrine to the god that had abandoned you, meaningless but perversely appeasing to the psyche. Angrily he reached to destroy the second picture, but was interrupted by a call from the room's intercom.
"Commander Novak, you are ordered to report to Colonel Novak's office. Urgent."
After a seconds hesitation Holland rose and dropped the picture on to his bed, and moved towards the door.
The photo he left behind showed a young Diane leaning with both arms on her little brother's head with her grandfather standing nearby. She was smiling the kind of smile she had not been able to duplicate since Adrock's death.
Holland made his way through the base's corridors to his brother's room. As he walked he found himself idly wondering what Dewey could possible want to talk to him about. He had already received his mission briefing from ComOps, and Dewey rarely, if ever, called Holland for any reason not related to work.
Dewey's chamber was spacious, with four large vertical windows opening to a fantastic view of the Farlan Valley system that made the area such a magnet to Lifters, or used to before the army took control of the region for advanced KLF manoeuvres and training. Dewey was sitting at his desk, the only one in the room, isolated at the very edge of the office next to the windows. As Holland entered Dewey raised his head and gestured towards one of the two seats in front of his workplace. Not needing more instruction Holland walked towards his seat. As he lowered himself Dewey spoke without looking up from the files he was studying, "You seem distracted Holland, are you alright?"
Holland cursed inwardly at his older sibling's unerring ability to read people's feelings and thoughts.
"Everything's fine sir." He declared in what he hoped was a dismissive tone.
Dewey raised his head and fixed Holland with a look that seemed to interrogate his soul. The Colonel's eyes softened and he gave a half-smile before saying, "My apologies, not meaning to pry."
"You called me." Holland answered, trying to change the topic of the conversation.
"Yes I did, now I'm sure you have already been briefed thoroughly on the Contario situation, but..." Dewey paused and turned his attention to something behind Holland, making the SOF pilot swivel in his seat.
A woman, clearly a secretary judging from her uniform, was walking towards Dewey's table. Had Holland been his usual self he would have spared a few moments to properly appraise the new entry, seeing as how she was a noticeably attractive girl, but with his current mood he merely gave a passing look and returned his focus to his brother.
Dewey however maintained his gaze at the approaching secretary, much to Holland's annoyance. When she reached the desk he actually stood up, forcing Holland to follow suit, and beckoned for the girl to stand with him. With a smile the Colonel turned to Holland and, with a gesture at the interloper, said, "Holland, allow me to introduce my new secretary, the highly able Miss Talho Yuki."
From the way his hand moved to rest gently on the small of her back, and the way she looked at him with the hatefully adoring gaze of a supplicant, Holland could immediately tell that she was more to Dewey than simply a secretary. A gnashing of furious emotion commenced in Holland's chest and gut, envy, anger and bitterness joining in a chorus to declare the unfairness of the whole fucking world.
Holland knew better, however, than to show the true nature of his feelings in front of Dewey, and so merely settled for bowing towards Miss Yuki. As he did he found it difficult to ignore the fact that she possessed a very fine set of legs, and wasn't shy about showing that off if the length of her skirt was any indication.
"My pleasure to meet you." He intoned politely.
"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine." She replied with fake formality, mimicking his bow.
Grating his teeth at her attitude, he rose steadily and gave a nod of acknowledgment before turning to Dewey.
The Colonel had an amused expression and playfully placed his hand on Talho's head, a habit of affection Dewey had picked up in his youth. She smiled coyly at him before raising the files she was carrying and offering them to him.
"As you requested sir, the latest intel from the Contario region." Her voice was strong, with a quality of independence that was strangely at odds with the attitude she projected towards Dewey. He nodded benignly and placed the files on the desk before him.
Without hesitation he bent down and whispered something into Talho's ear that Holland could not discern, but it brought a smile to her face that Holland could only translate as horny. Fucking little secretary slut, he grated harshly, she was no doubt playing up Dewey for a promotion, or other fringe benefits. Well with Dewey the bitch had probably bitten off more than she would be able to handle, he thought with perverse satisfaction. Dewey was perhaps the most unmanipulatable man on the planet. This, unfortunately, just made Holland even more jealous.
"Thank you Miss Yuki, please excuse myself and Commander Holland but we have important matters to attend to." Dewey watched her go with an inscrutable expression, and the moment the doors slid closed he returned his attention to his younger brother.
"Now as I was saying, you have been briefed on the Contario situation, it is in reference to that incident that I have called you here."
Holland frowned and asked, "Contario? The briefing made clear that it was not a particularly unique uprising."
"It isn't unique in almost every respect. But, in one very important aspect it has proven to be a very special case." Dewey explained, his eyes surveying the reports Talho had brought in, "So special that certain facets of our plan to deal with it had to be kept out of the general briefing."
Holland raised his eyebrows at this, knowing that anything special enough to warrant a one-on-one briefing from Dewey was probably of serious import.
"Not to seem patronizing, but would you please repeat to me a rough overview of the assignment you were briefed about by ComOps concerning the Contario situation."
Holland sat back and stared at the spot above Dewey's head as he recited the briefing.
"A revolutionary group has formed within the Contario region's mountainous plateau. It appears to be based on archaic principles of populous liberal democracy, and is using ideas taken from several ancient philosophies to justify its defiance of the Sage Council and the Army. It calls itself the Democratic Unity Movement..."
"An ironically appropriate acronym if ever there was one." Dewey commented wryly.
"...and has gained some support from local populations. The mission concerning the destruction of D.U.M. will centre on the termination of the leadership ring of the movement, on last intel that means the twelve members of the Executive Council. They are holed up in the town of..."
"Sorry to interrupt Holland but that is not entirely accurate." Dewey interjected, raising his hand, "These reports Miss Yuki just brought indicate that the strategic situation has changed."
The Colonel rose and took up a standing position at the window, "It seems the D.U.M. executive have a degree of prudence in their planning. They have separated their leadership to various locations, and are compartmentalizing their subdivisions."
"In other words we can no longer trust to a single decisive strike to shatter the group." Holland grimaced, "Leaving us with little alternative but to launch a punitive assault."
"Unfortunately." Dewey nodded with a look of weary resignation on his face, "Such a waste, a group capable of this organization with such miniscule resources would have proven useful had they applied their talents to a constructive purpose."
"Was that the special aspect? I see no reason that had to be left out of the general briefing."
Dewey turned to his brother, and Holland could see that something else still needed to be said, "No. That information was not included in the briefing because I only received it now. You will disseminate this data to your squad and initiate a High-Yield Gamma Assault, the locations will be given to you when you leave." A pause, then, "The matter I called you here for involves a different matter entirely."
Dewey had the kind of face that seemed to emanate purpose, it was a worn face, with the marks that bespoke the many perils and trials its owner had seen and undergone. His eyes were piercing when he wanted them to be, and magnetically benevolent when it was required. The only constant was the remorseless quality of destiny that was as intrinsic to who Dewey was as his breathe and beating heart. This sense of destiny was contagious, and those who caught it could not forget it. Life was unfathomable, mysterious and lonely. Dewey's eyes and purpose appeared to say that he held answers, that he held hope and that he could show a way towards a meaningful future. All you needed to do was follow.
A by-product of this nature was that few people even realized these things about Dewey. Even Holland was largely unaware of the effect his brother inspired in himself and others. The eldest Novak had the combined potential of a prophet and an emperor. The terrifying thing was that he was, at heart, a good person.
"You understand that this information is need-to-know, even to the rest of your squad."
"Understood sir."
"Now it turns out that the movement has captured our radio substation in the region, and they are using it to spread their dangerous and secessionist message. No other splinter group has thus far utilized our radio network so wilfully. It is of utmost import that we make sure this example is not repeated. To this end you will be utterly terminating the entire substation."
"Understood sir." Holland acknowledged.
"The reason this is a black-on-black mission is that the D.U.M. have no personnel capable of running the station, so they have coerced and threatened loyal Federation employees to do their bidding. It was from loyal members of this station staff that we acquired the majority of our intel on D.U.M." Dewey, still standing, passed a hand over the files and reports on his desk, "They sent coded data packets with the movement's propaganda transmissions."
There was a momentary silence in which Holland could swear he felt the air grow pregnant with fate.
"Their rescue will be impossible, and we cannot risk the safety of the entire Federation for a small group, loyal though they may be. Thus you will continue on the assigned task of eliminating the installation, regardless of their presence."
"Understood." Holland replied impassively, "How many?"
"Our intel indicates fifty-seven."
"Unfortunate." The word held real regret, but the SOF commander had long since numbed himself to the sacrifices that the greater good required, "but necessary. Is that all?"
"Yes, I think so." Dewey declared as he returned to his seat, "I knew I could rely on you commander."
Holland rose, saluted, and made his way to the door. As he moved to leave a voice called from behind.
"By the way Holland, I would remind you that jealousy is a very negative emotion."
Holland blanched, he had thought that he kept his feelings concerning his brother and Talho well concealed.
"Sorry sir, but..." He began, his voice taunt with resident anger and fresh humiliation, but the Colonel cut him off,
"See to it commander, and also consider that whilst you focus on your work you seem able to forget your personal situation. Consider this mission as a chance to clear your head."
"Dismissed."
Mephiles: I hope you enjoyed it and ask again that you please leave a review