10. Anti-Hero Truth

Took me almost a year to get this chapter out, after leaving it loose and discontinuing the story. I will update when I have time, although it's safe for me to say that this story won't be going anywhere too soon. Thanks to all my repetitive reviewers for their comments.

Let's get several things clear as we move into the subject.

The story goes Akima and I first met Korso in a Mantrin restaurant at Houston colony in the December of 3040. She had been a pilot for a year since we'd left Ishaq at Qu'ut Minor, and I'd been doing my trading around the system there as long as she did. We were partners of a successful company. And Korso, handsome captain of the Valkyrie madeus an offer we couldn't refuse. Shortly after, we were on the Valkyrie, hauling expensive cargo while fighting the Drej and all sorts of aliens in the universe, hell devoted to finding the boy who would save the human race.

Screw it. That's the clichéd version.

If you believe the crap I've written above then you've been had. But I don't blame you; nothing much has been said of the two-and-a-half years when Akima and I were on the Valkyrie trying to piece together bits and pieces of the Titan Project. Many assume we were trying to save the universe; someone even had the nerve to speculate we were killing Drej daily and winning the hearts and minds of humans all over the galaxy. Truth is, we weren't. Truth is, we were not saving anyone from anything. Truth is, the Valkyrie was a screw up.

Truth is, the truth has got nothing to do with all of this.


I'm going to tell you a story about Akima and myself.

People get the basic facts right: we were partners in a successful company and we did meet Korso and his crew in 3040 – December 23 – if you are interested in the exact date. He had made a prior arrangement to meet with us since he had been a customer of ours once. He was a very (in)famous cargo hauler throughout the Outer System, well known for confirmed delivery, affordable prices, on-the-dot business and womanizing. The last virtue was inherited also by Preed. His business with us up to our meeting was solely commercial; he called it outsourcing to the less threatening systems.

Akima had met him before. On the day of the meeting she tried to tell me of their last meeting. When Korso showed up with Preed and Gune, the first thing Akima noticed was his body, then his garb, then the way he carried himself, then his proposal. Akima, if you need to know, had become a little restless after all the long hours in deep space.

Korso's offer, as stated in Akima's Story, was plain straightforward. He was doing business, he needed a good pilot and a gunner and we fit the bill. Akima was not really much of a business person, so I did the details and the conditions. The negotiated deal turned out to be pretty impressive: 40000 credits per year for at least 5 years, plus a bonus of 25 of the cash from each successful cargo run and a chance to work with – and find – the people behind the Titan Project.

Honestly speaking, apart from the money, I wasn't very awed by Korso when I met him. He had the gait of a man either high on stimulants or slow in his thinking. I didn't like the way he got Gune to address him as captain, and his insistence on that term later on nearly drove Akima and I to mutiny. He was, as the stories I heard put it, unstable and pleasure-seeking. He made me doubt the motives behind his passion for seeking out the remnants of the Titan Project. As for Preed, well, he was a slime ball and still is. No good comes out of an Akrennian. Especially one who's a bastard.

The deal was settled after an hour. I thought it was a bit of rash and naïve of Akima to approach Korso about the deal directly and to agree even though I wanted to think over it. But she was doing what was best to keep her and me alive with a steady income, and out of dangerous places like Fauldro and Solbrecht. However, the deal included a clause which Akima and I really underestimated: sell the Ronin and use the credits from the sales to support us as we moved into the Valkyrie full time, as soon as possible.

Everything went smoothly. We got a very good price for the Ronin and put all our affairs in order as we moved into a powerful, well-equipped ship to start our life afresh. Ironically, that's when things started turning around. First there were some disagreements with the way Korso and Preed worked. Then we were fighting over the roles Akima and I played on board.

All this was fine, you know. I didn't mind it and I could tolerate Preed's arrogance and Korso's superiority complex well enough to make the Valkyrie a place fit to live in. Anyway, I've had my disagreements with Preed and Korso over all our years of being partners and fighters and all that sort of stuff; we aren't so petty as to be drawn apart by such trivialities.

But if there's one thing I can't forgive Korso for is when he starting coming on to Akima.To even start on this one makes me enraged, bitter and confused. Not because the idea of it – to many people who have considered the crew of the Valkyrie instrumental in the founding of New Earth – sounds very unnatural and out of tune with the heroics they always get told, but also because it was Korso using Akima – ruthlessly, thoughtlessly.

Just imagine the scenario and perhaps you'll understand what I mean. Here was this space-faring, self-seeking playboy who recruited two female crewmembers on his ship. Which was full of guys. Now that itself sounds a bit questionable. But I'll leave it. He's a human, 37 years old, definitely with some good looks and a good physique for his age, but blunt and with one principle in life which would turn extreme later on: get what you want in life and screw anyone who tries to stop you. He's got experience in this kind of situations (his second-in-command has got a worse attitude). And he selects a human girl to join his ship.

I told you earlier on I'd heard of Korso's exploits on his trips hauling cargo, especially at the drifter colonies. But if you ask me, the problem wasn't Korso; it was Akima.

So here's the girl who rashly and blindly accepts the offer to join Korso. She's just 16 years old, but looks at least ten years older (and even Preed can point that out). She's had no guidance in life, except a grandmother and an elder mentor who both died when she didn't expect it. She's had no human friends. She's experienced nothing for the last two years but prejudice, hate, the suppression of her own culture and the failure of the one source of affection. By then, I guess she was over Ishaq, but whether she was over her grandmother and Mohammed Bourain's death was another thing which I daren't not ask her. She had her periods of depression and, generally, she was unprepared for taking the plunge.

In summary, it was a 37 year old guy coming onto, taking advantage of a 16 year old girl on his terms, fully knowing how jilted she had been.

It sounds damn sick.

The first time caught Akima – and myself – by surprise. Akima was piloting the ship. I was doing maintenance on the turrets. Korso was observing our passage through a nebulae-strewn section of space. Preed was on co-pilot.

Imagine the scene first.

When she's piloting, Akima is always too distracted by her first love to notice anything else. Her eyes would've been darting ahead, sweeping away comets and ships and nebulae to envision the safest and fastest path for the Valkyrie to pummel through. Since she had been at the helm of the Valkyrie, Gune noticed we'd been having more uneventful and faster rides across our targeted meeting and dropping off points.

This was exactly the scene that day. Korso would've taken a walk across to the bridge, as he always does, to order a change of routes or any evasive action. As captain that was supposed to be his most important job. Instead he goes up to Akima, rests his shoulders on the head of the pilot's seat, and goes real close –

I didn't know then what they were talking about. It wasn't my job: I was ordered to keep my head cool at the gun port lest we got ambushed by Drej. Korso was whispering into her right ear; his face would've been directly beside Akima's, and she would've felt the stubble he always kept at the bottom of his chin. Preed, I noticed, was grinning. Which couldn't be a good sign.

As Korso continued, almost touching Akima's cheek with his boldness and approach, she didn't even flinch. The ship kept going on its course, smooth and uninterrupted, it's exterior unaffected by the lechery inside. Now this is what's so admirable and idiotic about Akima (pardon me again): she's so professional, nothing affects her – to the point she overlooks other people taking advantage of her.

Probably Korso got a bit weary of attempting to distract her in her element, so he pulled away, but not before sliding his hands to her waist, maybe across her navel, and feeling he'd done enough for the day, retreating back to the observation deck.

Akima would never tell me what Korso said. When it was time for stand down, she would tell me, red-faced, not to say anything to her.


Korso may have been a little loose and unstable, but in all matters of organisation and regulation he was clearly far ahead of any of us, even Akima. He had inherited such orderliness and regiment from his time in the 45th Airborne Missions Squadron. I learnt from many human friends, some of whom were veterans of this squadron, these were exceptionally talented fighter pilots who defended Earth during the Drej attack. Some were supposed to escort the Titan out into deep space but fell behind in trying to keep Drej stingers from destroying shuttles filled with evacuees.

Without any shred of doubt, Korso was a decorated war veteran, one of the few who knew Sam Tucker well enough to be entitled familiarity with finding the mysterious Titan. He held the rank of a senior staff sergeant while in service, but was posthumously decorated as captain days before the Drej attack. He claims he didn't know.

All the discipline and order drilled into him from his days at the flight academy and in training took control of how things were run on the Valkyrie. Akima once said Korso told her if this was how we still performed under his strict rotation of duties, we wouldn't stand a chance against the Drej. His internal guerilla war and self-satisfying tactics meant he was as paranoid as Akima was during our days on the Ronin, but it all came with a certain schedule. He and Akima took turns on the pilot's seat, rotating after every 48 hours. After each of them had finished with two cycles, there would be two whole days when the Valkyrie was completely on autopilot, with the provision either a gunner or crew be on the bridge during that period. However, most of the time Korso slept on the bridge, and he would still be walking around when Akima was in charge. And this only applied for periods of deep space travel, and not in busy trade lanes or when we were pulling into planets.

As for me, Korso's rotation plan meant I took turns with Preed and Gune at the gunner's port and at the co-pilot's seat. A pilot was never meant to be on the co-pilot's seat, Korso would tell us. Our duties were 36 hours at each position, followed by 48 hours of rest. At first everyone, especially Akima, had trouble adjusting to this new routine Korso implemented when we came in. The long hours of duty were a struggle, and the official ease time we had could be interrupted by our arrivals at our destination, or when we were under attack. It was a hard and sleepless life on the Valkyrie, because Korso was in charge. But honestly speaking, he did the most work. Cale, as a passenger, I noticed, did the least.

Korso was king over all the other minute details on board. And this was where he could be a bit contradictory. His orders were, when we stopped at our ports-of-call, we were not allowed to entertain any visitors; the only people permitted on board were our business partners and others approved by Korso himself. And none of them were to venture any farther than the cargo bay. Yeah right. Because at the drifter colonies, Korso had the habit of bringing girls to his bunk.

We were given permission to roam and explore the places where we called at, whether they were drifter colonies, moons, planets, salvage stations, asteroid platforms or trading ships. But Korso insisted that there always be one sentry on board, armed, in case anything went wrong. When he docked, Korso was too preoccupied looking for a good time. In a way, so was Preed. Akima would curiously venture into these places to explore, most of the times accompanied by Gune. So I think I did the most sentry duty over those 3 years. Anyway, if Akima was in trouble, I had the weaponry to get her out of it.

Most places we stopped at were either human-friendly or neutral. The notorious anti-human triangle of systems, which you probably knew very well, we avoided, because Korso was a human and he was the official pilot of a stolen ship. So we avoided Solbrecht, Fauldro and Kalparu. D'Armara was by far the most human-friendly planet we went to, so we visited the planet the most frequently, along with certain drifter colonies like Houston, Tokyo-Jima and Amero Del Rios . And, yeah, we avoided the slave ships too, unless we really needed to make a trade.

But there've been times when Korso's regulations can be flawed. Korso once brought back this exotic D'Armaran girl to his bunk. I was doing sentry, I saw them, but I didn't say anything. And get this: once inside, she overpowered Korso, locked him in his bunk, made it to the bridge and attempted to steal the ship. In the end, I had to fire a couple of shots through her, all nicelytaken to the head to avoid hitting the controls.

Korso was responsible enough to help me clean up afterwards. Not a word to the crew, he said. But as we disposed the body into space, he looked me in the eye and said:

"You did damn well with that bitch up there. So fucking well you should be our permanent sentry on board whenever we dock."

In short, Korso was a maniac at keeping things in order. In his order. By micromanaging his own little world he was in charge of, all he wanted was to have a better grip over the outside world: an impossibility. It was too chaotic, too wracked with factions even among the humans, and too anti-human and anti-hero for that.


If you think Korso's first pass at Akima was overt, wait till I tell you about what he did next.

In that Titan A.E movie, I think you'll be pretty clear with that shower scene. Yes, that shower scene; you know, like that Cale-supposedly-finds-Akima-naked-in-the-shower scene. Well, as much the two of them enjoyed doing it back then, there's truthfully a more sinister background to it. And it took place about a month after Korso first started making his passes.

I heard this from Akima, who earlier dismissed it as the coincidental accident. She was on board our quarters on the Valkyrie; we had pulled into D'Armara, finished our business and we were getting ready to pull out from the planet. It's only sensible after a day of escorting Korso around his usual haunts to meet his customers that we freshen up before leaving. And when I think about it again now, I guess Akima was somewhat to blame also: she is innocently oblivious to the attention people pay to her. With that attitude, she never locks the door to the showers.

So she's in the shower, and then the door opens. It's Korso. He is clearly drunk, he is clearly not in his normal state of mind, but that should not be any excuse for this intrusion. Akima tells me the first thing she sees is him, and the second thing she sees is that she is standing stark naked, halfway out of the shower. At least Cale only saw her behind.

Akima did what any normal person would: she flung a towel around herself, but by then Korso has seen, and he approaches her, calm enough for her not to realise he is staggering. He leers at her, up to the point that she is pressed as hard as possible against the shower wall, crushed underneath his gaze.

And Korso says, and Akima knows he's drunk: "Hey, pretty. Don't undress till I come in."

He exits out the shower laughing groggily, as if he'd just been to a brothel. Akima, stunned, doesn't do anything for an several minutes, till she knows the coast is clear and she finishes what she started.

The way Akima put it to me was as if she had just seen something unusual floating in space; there was hardly a sense of frustration at Korso's approaches, nor a panic that she had been emotionally violated by this older man. She was blissfully unaware of the underhand work which Korso was doing: treating her like an equal in the eyes of others, but lording over her completely in his ship. I dare not say anything to her – and perhaps in that way I failed her as a friend, because I didn't want to open her eyes to the lustful, deceitful ways of men.

By the time Akima realised something was seriously wrong, she had already become a violent, reckless part of the Valkyrie crew. There was no time to break down, no time to be sorry for her being taken advantage of. It would take her some time to reconcile the fact that Korso was no Mohammed Bourain, and while partners, they were – like all of us – living off our own problems in each other.

(20.09.06)