Nothing to Lose
A Battle of the Planets vignette
This story is based on characters and situations based on the 1970s anime series 'Battle of the Planets' (produced by Sandy Frank Entertainment) which was in turn derived from the series 'Science Ninja Team Gatchaman' (created by Tatsunoko Productions). Characters are used without permission, and not for profit.
Mild warning for some moderately strong language from Jason. All comments and suggestions welcome.
You know me, I'm not one for emotion-laden conversations. I would rather blow half a dozen Spectran goons from this world to the next, dodging bullets the whole time, than face Mark when he decides we need to 'talk'.
He knows that too.
But he does it to me from time to time anyway. I guess it must be a Commander thing, or something to do with having been with the chief longer than the rest of us. When one of us worries him, he just can't let it go.
And it looks like, right now, I'm worrying him.
"You're getting reckless, Jase. Almost as if you think you have nothing to lose."
His blue eyes are filled with confusion, and I turn away, breaking our eye contact. There may have been a question somewhere in that, but I can pretend there isn't, until...
"What's wrong, Jason?"
Damn. He's not going to let this go, is he? I turn back to him, and I know that my defiance shocks him.
"Have I put anyone but myself in danger?" I demand. "Have I risked the team's safety? Or let Spectra take advantage?" I reach up to brush the hair out of my eyes, and meet Mark's gaze. He looks anxious, and I feel something clench within me as I realise I'm hurting him. I don't let it show. "No? Then what could be wrong?"
He's speechless as I stalk out of the gym and down the corridor to the ready room. I can feel him following behind me, watching as I throw myself down in one of the arm chairs.
Mark steps into the room behind me, and paces the room restlessly. As I riffle through the pile of magazines beside my chair, he picks up a ping-pong bat and bounces the ball on it. He doesn't invite me to join him, but I know he's watching me, even as I watch him in return.
I pretend not to, glowering at the magazine articles and trying to find one that interests me. I have a sneaking suspicion that Mark doesn't want to renew our argument here. The ready room is our refuge against the rest of the world. We don't talk about work here. Nothing official, of course, but it's where we come to unwind and relax. I haven't heard the last of this, I know, but for the moment, it seems that neither of us can think of anything to say.
What bothers me most is that I know Mark is right. God, isn't he always?
I have been getting into more than my fair share of dangerous situations lately. And I know it's upsetting the team. But, hell! Isn't that my job? And I'm not going to let Princess, or Keyop, or Tiny, or even Mark stand in the way of danger, if I can be there instead. Is that so wrong? What in God's name does our fine Commander expect me to do?
I'm not sure whether Mark or I jump more violently when Keyop's loud burbling interrupts our silent brooding.
The others pile into the ready room in a burst of noise and motion. Tiny is laughing at something Keyop's said, and Princess reaches out to pat the boy's head, almost dropping the half-dozen shopping bags she carries in the process. Tiny rescues the topmost package as it slips from her grasp, slipping past the others with a grace surprising for one of his bulk, and dumping it on the table.
The big guy eases himself into the seat beside me with a sigh, reaching to tap the dumb waiter tube beside him, signalling the kitchen to send up his usual order of spaceburgers and keep them coming.
"What're you reading, Jase?"
Keyop's squirmed out of Princess's reach, and now he scoots to my side, peering at the sleek sports car that the article I'm reading describes.
"Wow, can I have one?"
"Ask again when you're old enough to drive it," Princess tells him sternly, before anyone else can comment.
Mark, at the computer terminal now, checking his messages, glances up before Keyop even turns in his direction. "Legally," he adds, stilling the squirt's argument unspoken.
Okay, so I'm frustrated, and feeling in the mood to needle Mark a little. I can't help it. I lean over casually to ruffle the boy's hair. "Ask nicely, and I might sneak you one in for Christmas."
Keyop can be counted on to take a ball and run with it. He sighs theatrically. "Christmas is a long way off," he complains with a mournful whistle.
Tiny tosses a cushion at Keyop, berating him for impatience and ingratitude. Princess is watching them. I think Mark is the only one watching me as what Keyop said sinks in. Usually we all avoid references to time passing, and what may happen in the future. And perhaps I'm just a little oversensitive after Mark's attempt to talk earlier. In a single, terrible instant, I feel the weight of the Spectran onslaught pressing down on my chest. The thought of all Zoltar could do to our young Keyop before Christmas flashes through my mind, and I know that, for just a moment, a deep and terrible fear shows on my face. My eyes flick from Keyop, to Princess, to Tiny before I can stop them, and then settle briefly on Mark.
His blue eyes are wide with surprise, and I'm probably looking just a little shocked myself.
The others are laughing lightly, and now I force my facade was back in place and give a sardonic smile, even though my heart is aching. Mark rallies too, letting nothing show beyond a serious expression in his eyes.
Still, now Mark knows what I guess I've only just realised myself. He knows why I push myself so hard. And why I'll keep pushing myself harder with each passing day, putting myself in danger if it means I can keep the others out of it.
As if I've nothing to lose, Mark said. He couldn't have been more wrong.
For the first time I can remember, I have a purpose I'm devoted to. I have a family, and, God help me, even if I'll never admit out aloud I'm terrified for each and every one of them.
For the first time in my life, I have everything to lose.
The End