FLIPSIDE
A/N: Takes place directly following Cyclonia Rising. Mostly told from Stork's POV. PG13-ish.
Summary: Trapped in OtherSide, the Storm Hawks must find a way to return to Atmos or be separated from their world permanently. As their options dwindle, so does their faith in each other. Will being torn from Atmos also tear their team apart?
"...This is gonna be fun."
There was no sound except for the gentle creaking of the long cable moorings which tethered the Condor to the floating spit of land - the Atmosian equivalent of an oasis in the middle of the desert. It was deep into the early morning hours and the moon was riding low in the sky, clothed in a thin veil of wispy clouds, but the constellations overhead were unfamiliar.
Stork shivered a bit, equal parts due to the stirring breeze and a cold feeling gathered in the pit of his stomach. For those accustomed to navigating by such dependable methods as the stars, it was truly alien to see nothing he recognized, and not only in the sky. In the distance lay an impossible city, tall spires blazing with light, turning the backdrop from black to murky grey-green.
A few hours earlier;
Faced with the shock of discovering the Other Side through Master Cyclonis' mirror, Aerrow's determination to hunt down the fleeing crystal sorceress became tempered with a more responsible caution. This was a completely unfamiliar world and they didn't know what awaited them; they had no Sky Knight backup and there could be untold flocks of nightcrawlers lying in wait. So he had conceded the chase, albeit temporarily, and ordered Stork to take the Condor to a safe distance to wait for daybreak.
Even though she appeared recovered from the detrimental effects of the Binding, Aerrow had ordered Piper to bed and it wasn't long before Finn and Junko grew uncomfortable lurking around the war room and followed shortly after with Radarr in tow. Aerrow had then paced the bridge like a Rozathrain panther while Stork guided the Condor carefully through the windy crosscurrents looking for a place to tie up the carrier for the night.
"There's no sign of the portal we came through, is there?" Aerrow asked finally, breaking the silence.
Stork shook his head without glancing at the squad leader, tapping the time-pulse beacon for something to do with his hands. At first it had merely been skipping every few seconds, forcing the pilot to substitute his own real-time calculations in order to maneuver. Now it was slowing like a dying heart, moving at only a quarter of its normal speed. He estimated that it would be completely stopped inside six hours at this rate.
"I don't think the others realized that," the redhead continued warily.
"There were other things to consider at the moment," the Merb replied with a forced casual shrug, avoiding eye contact. He'd come to the same conclusion, of course.
Aerrow ran a hand through his hair, causing it to spike and then settled again. "I'm going to get us back home, Stork. We just need to find Master Cyclonis and make sure she can't ever attack Atmos again. Only then can the war really be over."
Aerrow had left the bridge not long after that, leaving the Merb alone to finish securing the Condor for the night. Stork didn't mind; he doubted he'd be able to sleep anyway when his mind was still awhirl with conflicting thoughts. The carrier was quiet; even the sound of Junko's snoring didn't penetrate the corridors tonight. He moved to the timepulse beacon again, but it had completely stopped by now. Tapping the globe although he knew the effort was futile, Stork was not looking forward come morning to telling the rest of the squad that they were effectively flying blind in an unknown airspace.
"Fun," the Merb repeated, his cynicism magnified as it echoed around the hollow corners of the bridge. "About as fun as a Kaprasian scalding mudpeel." Pushing open the two side ports to let in the night air, Stork folded his gangly arms under his chin and stared at the phantasmal city in the distance.
"Terra Bastion," he decided on a name. "Hopefully the last place where the Cyclonia-Atmos war will ever be fought."
But was the war with Cyclonia was over? The threat of Talons, of invasions, of terras being conquered was hard to forget. Even though Terra Merbia had been occupied, it had never been a place of interest to the Cyclonian leaders. The terra itself was too inhospitable to any species not adapted to the reoccuring natural disasters. But then Stork had not stayed on Terra Merbia - a choice he both considered of utmost good and bad luck simultaneously.
There had been a few bright spots in the war. When an occupied Terra rebelled, when Cyclonia made a mistake or had a setback, these things were held aloft as banners of success and proclaimed to be in Atmos' favour. But the truth was that Cyclonia was more suited to wage war than peace and that mindset wasn't likely too be changed even if Atmos did come out on top. It would simply simmer below the surface like a kettle until it was ready to boil over once more. Stork tried to imagine going through the same thing twenty years from now and turned a little greener than usual.
That was why Aerrow had taken them to this other side of Atmos, "Farside", as they had collectively taken to calling this side of the portal. To chase down Cyclonia, to make sure that the tyrant legacy didn't get passed to another generation. It would probably sound noble when written down in the annals of Atmosian history; just like the original Storm Hawks' demise had been rewritten from the betrayal of their most trusted into the heroic sacrifice which saved Atmos.
Stork had no interest in becoming another fanciful tale of Sky Knights past. He looked back out at the newly-named Terra Bastion. "Fun," he tried again. "Right."