"I don't see why you feel the need to do this Jane! Taking your brothers, too! It panicked me enough with your last little 'trip', let alone having to wave you goodbye on an expedition I know is dangerous. I've heard the chatter, Jane – don't go trying to tell me otherwise! There are monsters out there! Hoards of them! All of them quite happy and willing to take a bite of-"
The loading docks of the Citadel held hundreds of ships, each of those ships holding hundreds of personnel or passengers, depending on its capacity. On a day like this that meant thousands of mouths whispering goodbyes to loved ones, shouting instructions to staff, whistling songs to while away the time all accompanied by double the amount of feet that there were tongues; shuffling, marching, running, bounding... Yet with her boots firmly on the ground Jane Rizzoli could hear nothing but the dramatic howls of her mother above the din of crowds that she usually cherished, getting a word in edgeways a much more difficult task than escaping any of the 'monsters' that her matriarch was moaning on about.
"Ma. Ma...MA, listen to me before you explode like a supernova..."
Being able to intimidate her foes and being able to be the dominant figure in any situation was what Commander Rizzoli was good for, hell it was what she was renowned for. Able to quite literally stand tall in a field of men, with charcoaled eyes that constantly dared her opponents to flinch or look away as they were held captivated by the darkened depths, even without a weapon she was a woman to fear. Through The Great War the name Rizzoli had come to mean more than that of a mere Alliance trooper, rising through the ranks all thanks to her wit, cunning and a gut that even the most straight-laced of civilians wanted to follow if it meant their asses being saved. Ordinarily her tongue lashings were on par with her shooting skills, but this was Angela Rizzoli she was face to... Bust with, the woman who despite her growing fears had unwillingly – or perhaps more to the point unknowingly - taught her only daughter to be the thrill seeking, authority hating, stubbornly sassy woman that stood before her. A force to be reckoned with, trying to get her mother to understand the reasons behind her job was always about as useful as shooting a gun in a vacuum, but Jane had never been the sort to choose the easy option...
"Oh! And those too! Such a traitorous path you're taking, Janie..."
Arms frenzying in front of her face the younger of the two women decided to stick with her usual motto, hoping that in this instance action would speak louder than words. It seemed to work, the brazen woman below her usual eyeline stooping backwards just a little bit, hushed by witnessing her oldest child reduce herself to childish tactics. "Shhh! Ma, if I listened to the chatter you did – which for the record doesn't count when it's old... Middle aged women discussing tabloids over tea – then I'd never fart for fear of shi—Look, we're gunna be fine. We've got everything mapped out, with big red circles around the possible dangers. What, do you want me to draw a skull and cross bones over each of'em as well?"
Not missing a beat, the head of the household scoffed in reply to the sarcasm that her daughter so persistently used in what she deemed to be a very important conversation, arms folding stoutly across her chest and her face contorting into a look not all that dissimilar to a bulldog chewing a wasp. "Don't go trying to be smart, Jane. Can't a mother worry about her daughter, and the two sons that she happens to be dragging along into danger?"
"Hey! I'm not dragging anyone!" Unable to fight against the strewn sentences of her mother any longer arms that had previously fought to help her now flopped in retreat to her sides, bated breath instead surrendering to a sigh. "Frankie is a damn good pilot, Ma, and it turns out Tommy actually learnt somethin' whilst in the slammer, which I got him out of, may I remind you. We make a good team, and with them onboard we'll be back in the Citadel before you know it."
'Citadel' was never a word which sat comfortably on the brunette's tongue. Far too formal and fancy a word for her taste, Jane would often refer to it instead as 'the hive' when it was time to give her younger brother a destination to return to, or better yet plain old Boston. Before that big final dump had hit the fan – after Obama had signed peace treaties with alien beings that were eventually broken, once Britain had become the fifty-first state, and before the first female President's fifth and final term had finished off with a headshot that had lead to interspecies war - the land she now stood upon had been home to generations of Rizzoli's, thoroughbred Italians mingling with American blood. With Europe having been quarantined since the well lived woman was a young child, all that shined through of her heritage was the olive tone of her skin, and chiselled features that were once only seen in the museums of Italy. That was, until bombs fell and reduced them to rubble...
Boston was her homeland, memories of the city clear and vivid in her mind, still able to picture each of the twenty-three neighbourhoods - weathered and battered with vintage charm – the main manufacturing centre for anything and everything the Alliance needed in the early days of battles that came to be massacres; concrete and corrugated metal warehouses full of worker bees creating honey, until the entirety of New England had been transformed into the sixteenth Citadel of the country, practically overnight. Knowing that coliseums built by her own bloodline could be reduced to nothing by laser beams shot from the sky, once Europe fell into the hands of the enemy America made the choice to tear down any infrastructure more than three centuries old; cities forging into sectors, each with a bright and shining centre for each civilian to call home. Warehouses became strengthened towers protected by force fields; depots suddenly came with security that meant retinal scans instead of just swiping your I.D. All for the good of Sector Sixteen. No matter how much they polished, no matter how much they made the buildings gleam with a metaphorical hope, Jane missed the simplicity of the streets she had been free to run around in during the very few innocent years of life she had once had. The place where her ship docked was, and forever would be Boston, Massachusetts.
Where the hell else would she park a crimson spaceship called 'Sox'?
Belonging to an Alliance Captain of thirty three years, Vince Korsak, the TAMAR-0 model transport ship was the ex-female soldier's second home, complete with a family on board, (and with only half of it linked to her by blood). Just a few years back the vessel had been in a state of disrepair; a hunk of junk after being shot down from the sky, nothing but mangled metal and shredded shrapnel. That same year the grey haired Captain had found himself unfairly dismissed from the Alliance alongside Jane, a woman who had basically become his protégé, and a technological wizkid by the name of Barry Frost – Jane's partner in the field, and long time friend to them both. Early retirement had never been factored into Korsak's plans - at least not through being pushed – fighting for the safety of civilians being his life's work and purpose, but with the crash landing of the ship suddenly picking a fight with the Fairfields and losing seemed to have a silver lining. With a headstrong no nonsense Commander to lead the way (with his guidance to keep one foot on the ground), a quick witted cyber genius to gain all the intelligence they would ever need, and two kids on the sidelines he knew would jump at the chance to tune up and fly the boat, the aged man began to picture a future full of star gazing instead of bloodshed. From then onwards the only red he wanted to see by choice was the colour sprayed across his ship; a shade that rivalled comets that streaked through the sky and lead to it being christened a name Jane wouldn't budge on, no matter how hard he tried. He supposed it was only fair considering he had chosen to recruit both of her brothers, eventually wearing down the scowling sister's arguments by promising to never employ her mother – no matter how much he favoured her cooking.
Ignoring the constant bickering and sibling rivalry between the Rizzoli children soon it was clear that Sox had the best damn crew in the sector, even if they were now given the stigma of being 'rebels'. Frankie continued to prove himself as an excellent pilot, previously a wasted talent working alongside his father flying cargo ships to neighbouring Citadels. Tommy - forever branded the trouble maker - was given a second chance after serving time for operating a ship under the influence, put to good use in the engine room thanks to the mechanics skills he had learnt whilst incarcerated. What had once wallowed like a whale now snarled through the skies like a shark – mostly thanks to the infants Angela had raised. Whilst she was perfectly aware of this, and even though what Jane said was the truth, it would do nothing to settle the elder Rizzoli's fears. Her stomach was in knots similar to that of wringed laundry as she resigned herself to emotional defeat, far too tired to continue with her attack of worrisome words. Angela's sigh matched the previous exhale of her daughter, taking a moment of silence before enveloping her 'baby girl' in a hug that was very stiffly received "Mmm, well as long as you make me the same promise as Frankie and Tommy. You look after each other, or you'll have me to answer to. Now go, before I get teary."
"I... Promise and I would but Ma... You're kinda squashing me a little..." wriggling enough to prise her torso from a hug so full of love it was beginning to physically hurt, Jane finally reciprocated the affection with a squeeze to her mother's forearm, a smile forming that lit up her eyes as if she were standing beneath a constellation, each star reflecting in her dark hues – something to look forward to in the trip ahead of her. Sharing a look that said words that would surely damage her reputation if spoken out loud within the crowd, Jane's dark locks curled to frame her face as she nodded gently before leaving her mother for the docking station of her pride and joy, choosing not to look back as her overbearing mother spoiled the sentimental goodbye.
"And no rough housing with your brothers! Bloody noses don't look pretty, Jane! You never know who you're going to meet out there!"
Brow furrowing in disbelief the previous nod of her head became a shake. Really she should have known by then that her mom would use any available opportunity to make a quip about her love life, it being her favourite pastime after mollycoddling Tommy, pretty much equal with relentlessly reminding Jane that she was a woman, and perhaps she could choose suits with a cut that emphasised that, or at least tried a little pink. Though missing how old school Boston had once been, she couldn't help but wish her primary parent would let go of archaic stereotypes, or at least drag her head out of the fairytales that seemed to dance in her brain - complete with wings, wands and tiaras that she would be sure to stick Jane in during her youth if the tomboy hadn't constantly chosen to hide in trees beyond the robust woman's reach.
"Yeah, searching for alternative fuels is really going to lead me into the path of Prince Charming..."
"The cargo ship, christened 'Prince Charming' for the owner's daughter and her love of fairy tales currently resides in sector thirteen, Commander. I highly doubt that whilst looking for our fuel source we'll cross routes with the crew."
Rhetorical words that Jane assumed only she would hear thanks to her naturally gravel filled voice (a note lower than usual) received an answer, the Commander having been so focused on getting away from the clutches of the Rizzoli mother-hen that she hadn't expected anyone to greet her at the entrance. Knowing that Frankie would already be at the helm with Korsak at his side, that Tommy would be tinkering and that Frost would be doing last minute checks Jane assumed that as always she would be the last to board. Instead she found herself next to a buxom blonde – no, those locks were closer to caramel (something she hadn't tasted since sugar rationing started in 2115), curves accentuated in a foam latex suit similar to her own albeit in a shade the Commander believed she remembered to be forest green, a contrast to her own steel grey apparel. Never had she seen standard issue material look so... So...
"If I recall the information correctly there are about thirty different spaceships in our sector with names referencing fairy tales, a favourite of mine being 'Mirror Mirror'. The majority have names taken from loved ones – parents, husbands, wives. Only one was christened after a centuries old sports team, though."
Women around her just didn't want to keep their mouths closed today, Jane decided, although she was not irritated by this newcomer as much as she was curious. Though the Citadel was a big place, heaving with masses of different workers each day, the Commander could usually find a place in her memory for each face, if not always for their names. It had become her job since being dismissed from the Alliance to know the ins and outs of the sector, knowledge being power when it came to being the head of a somewhat... Rebellious crew. Yet this woman was as filled with knowledge as Jane herself was filled with cynicism, and the war hero was pretty sure if they'd of already met, she would have remembered.
"Yeah, well 'Bambi' was taken and 'Mufasa' just makes everyone giggle," with a quirk of one seemingly perfectly sculptured eyebrow the joke (complete with elongated vowels and a hissed 's', Jane would add) completely bypassed the brain-box's funny bone, the taller of the two women alone in her creased smile "Huh, clearly you've not delved into the Disney archives then."
"Well, no." Very matter-of-factly the fairer haired woman's eyes seemed to be the perfect accessories to the colour of her uniform, unwavering as she responded "Since Disney was banned for the subliminal messages in their animation in April of 2106 it's generally assumed that no one has. It's generally frowned upon, Commander. That, and I don't often understand pop culture references. They all seems rather trivial to me."
Who the hell was this woman? Putting together the pieces as her mind tried to maintain interest in the conversation Jane's eyes fell to the shoulders of who she suddenly realised to be the newest member of her crew. Just as black ranking strips gave away her position, a small well placed 'x' caused Jane to realise that the walking, talking fact machine was actually a doctor – probably who Korsak had chosen to replace Doctor Pike after a small reckless flight including the bespectacled man, an asteroid field and some stained briefs has caused him to resign from his position. Suddenly he wasn't so anal-retentive, words from his dossier file that Jane hadn't really understood until a joke needed to be made. Taking his leave because he couldn't work with such 'irresponsible amateurs', she was glad to be rid of the shit from both his mouth and his pants, Pike now quite literally a party-pooper.
Requesting that her silver haired mentor find a replacement for Pike that could keep their intestines inside (each sick bucket already having the word 'FROST' imprinted clearly on the outside), Jane would never have imagined Korsak would pick a woman who looked so damn dainty. Not that Jane could judge her purely by gender, herself a prime example of men still looking down their noses and assuming women were always a rank below anything with a penis. At least she looked the part though, this doctor all tits and teeth and... Oh boy, Tommy was going to love her... With the ship almost ready for launch she had to get the measure of the doctor, and fast "So, let me get this straight. You can give me information on over fifty ships, give me exact black listing dates, yet can't appreciate a quote from a talking lion? You've got to know Disney is a rite of passage, it's been around for years."
"Two-hundred-and-ten, to be exact." Barely giving her new authority figure time to blink the numbers spun from the medical recruit's tongue, head cocked in an expression that could only be described as coy as she watched Jane's reaction with great interest. Registering a look of both shock and appraisal the military figure seemed to be out of her depth, eyes widening to match the small circle that her open mouth had formed as her brain searched for a reply to an answer she hadn't actually asked, unsure of how to manage anything without sounding like a complete ass. Hell, she was discussing Disney with a doctor who had a noggin' faster than Jane's own trigger finger and curves that women paid for. What could you say?
"You'd tell me if you were a cyborg, right?" Laughter followed the faux query, the awkward humour almost cringe worthy as Jane found her tweak of a smile a lone action, her colleague's features remaining set like porcelain for what seemed the longest of moments. Then, snapping whatever sense the Commander had left within her skull, the laughter came – sweet, gentle, genuine and above all else clearly entertained laughter.
"If it were in my capacity to tell lies then no, I don't think I would. That sentence itself should answer your question, Commander, although I prefer the term artificial intelligence. I thought that Captain Korsak would have mentioned me by now. I'm your Medical Analysis Unit Repair Android, Maura."
