Chapter Twenty-Six
"I've got the information you asked, ma'am," Second Lieutenant Erich started the call with absolutely no bullshit the moment Alexandria connected the line. "Dossiers and CSV's transmitting to you now." A pause. "Note: I didn't actually look, per se, but I highlighted one file in particular that may be of interest to you. The header looks pretty suspicious by itself."
Receiving the transmitted files on her handheld computer, Alexandria's eyes narrowed the moment she saw the header of the highlighted file, concurred with Erich's assessment, and made a mental note to take a look at it last; chances were this was the file she was looking for, but the other files deserved a glance, even if they weren't the jackpot. "Thanks, Erich, got them all," the major replied coolly before disconnecting the call and getting down to work. The list materialized with relatively short list of names for an intelligence report, which meant it numbered at about two dozen. Contrary to popular belief, much of an intelligence operation often had more to do with speculation than concrete facts; if the available information was so conveniently comprehensive that one could determine infallible conclusions from them, think-tanks and strategizing organizations such as intelligence agencies would be entirely redundant. Most of them begin with guesswork, and an attempt at an unbiased compilation of facts to see if things match up.
Her commandeered helicopter was still in the air and still heading north. There was a certain acceptance that, at this point, she didn't exactly know where the enemy saboteur and his zoran allies were headed other than a vague direction: North. But she knew that they were in an APC, and there would be certain limits on their speed by which they were willing to travel if they didn't wish to be detected. If she had underestimated that, though, and they were traveling faster than Alexandria had expected, then chances were good that the APC would be blown off the face of the earth by Valentine forces that could find them using the most basic of surveillance and reconnaissance techniques; so much the better, even if it didn't count as a 1st SIU victory.
Regardless, this train of logic was why Alexandria was headed for a staging area closer towards the northern coastline; the enemy was going to be forced to remain in that particular region for a few hours by virtue of time and travel speed, and she wanted to be close by in case any second chances were going to pass by. There wouldn't be a third; after the next few hours, the APC could make a turn in any which direction, making any further attempt to pursue without determining a specific location fruitless.
For now, though, the major's eyes scanned down the headers of the list. Indeed, when she read the name that Erich had highlighted, complete with last known rank and outfit, Alexandria immediately agreed that this was the most suspicious of the lot, and instantly regulated that particular file to be on the last one on the reading list. It was one thing to speculate and make assumptions, but another to be blinded by preconceptions; she wanted to give all the other files a decent chance first, to read the details inside before looking at the one that was most likely to make the most sense. By the end of ten minutes, however, after some swift skimming and reading of key details, Alexandria finally opened the highlighted file, complete with photograph and CSV, almost certain that this was going to be the jackpot.
Captain Duncan, 7th Battalion Royal Guard. An ugly but intense-looking veteran, he had been transferred into the unit from special forces on request, although for years he served in an auxiliary capacity. Only after the late Queen Eileen's marriage to the late King Adam III did he become the personal bodyguard to her Majesty…at the queen's personal request, no less, despite some objections by Colonel Oskar, then-commanding officer of the Royal Guard. His tenure was short-lived, however, for the Valentine Revolution soon came in full swing, and within the scope of mere days, King Adam III and Queen Eileen were killed in the fighting between revolutionary forces and the then-members of the Royal Guard.
As for Duncan's current status: Missing in action.
Alexandria frowned. Barring special forces, the 7th Battalion Royal Guard had some of the best soldiers out there, responsible for maintaining the safety and security of the royal family in peace or in war. They had obviously been the shield of the royal family during the revolution, practically as good as special forces although with a much more different focus, so the late General Alphonse and then-Lord Tacitus must've kept very careful tabs on each and every member of the Royal Guard before, during, and after Tacitus' ascension and coronation. In the hours leading up to the revolution, they were distracted, diverted, isolated, and incapacitated through careful maneuvering. The surviving members of the 7th Battalion were eventually granted a blanket pardon – they were, after all, simply carrying out their dutiful orders as bound by oath, and no one faulted them for that, even if that had previously put them at odds with the new regime – but surviving members were still monitored for years. And casualties had been tracked even during the battles in Velvet to ensure that every member of the military bodyguard outfit was accounted for, that there would be no sudden surprises from the highly-trained unit, no sudden resurrections because they "didn't find the body". King Tacitus was not a man who left loose ends. A captain from the Royal Guard doesn't just up and disappear from prying Valentine eyes, and they certainly didn't remain hidden for almost two decades.
What had happened to Duncan? Where was he now? And what – if anything – did he have to do with a Hylian gunsword-wielding infiltrator?
The top of display winked twice with the icon of an envelope, indicating that the new pieces of information she had requested from other sources had arrived, so Alexandria decided to temporarily shelve this gunsword theory of hers to focus on more immediate matters: The zorans. Their participation in the previous engagement was extremely alarming, given that word from up top was that Valent was supposed to have limited interference from certain parties, including Southern Gerudo extremists and zoran guerillas, two entities that might've been tempted to cause mischief in times of great upset had better alternatives not been offered to them in the first place. The fact that they were siding with the Hylians was made worse by the knowledge that the infiltrator was targeting Jormungand. It was only natural that Alexandria wanted to know what the zorans wanted and what they were capable of.
A new list of intelligence reports filtered onto Alexandria's screen, headers of pertinent documents written on zorans by the international intelligence community from beyond two decades ago eventually being chronologically replaced by those coming only from Valent's own intelligence organs the further she scrolled down, a restriction on information made inevitable once the kingdom became isolationist. Valent had never been particularly mindful of the zorans except for keeping them away from its shores – the last eighteen years had been spent preparing for this war, not gathering information on an aquatic second-rate race – and Hyrule considered them beneath contempt. Gerudo's climate and geography just didn't promote zoran civilization there, and the modern history of Gerudo notwithstanding, it was likely that the zorans wanted to be as far away from both Southern Gerudo fundamentalists and MICO as possible. The end result was that there was actually ultimately very little revealing Valentine intelligence on the amphibious race beyond the basic knowledge that everyone knew, that the zorans had largely been put down during the Third Zoran Crusade, and now live in husks of their respective tribes across different maritime natural reserves, most of them in Hyrule.
One particular report filed close to the present, however, offered a rather uniquely concise perspective into zoran society. The names of two dozen different tribes were listed, complete with estimates for population, birth and death rates, political standing, ideological agenda, even historical background, all of them filed with meticulous care and precision. For a moment, Alexandria even wondered if the author was just making things up. For someone with barely any familiarity with zorans, Alexandria came upon at least one fact that was stunning to her: That there were far more of them than she had expected from a loose, uninformed perception that they were a dying race moving closer towards extinction. It was, in her opinion, not an unreasonable assumption, given how badly the Provisional Human Army and civilian lynch mobs had massacred entire zoran populations following the Valentine victory at the Battle of Dendrite Falls. She could never give any precise gut estimate with her population, having almost absolutely no figure in her head or any basis by which she could make any informed guesses, but probably would've said "several thousand at best" if pressed for it.
According to this report, however, that guess was ridiculously off, not when estimates for the zoran population in 1505 were listed at around seven hundred thousand.
Her mind reeled at the insinuation. Seven hundred thousand, with every indication, supported by the vocabulary of this report, that the zorans possessed a thoroughly militarized society. If zorans aged eighteen to fifty-five were considered capable combatants, it effectively meant that the zorans could field three, maybe even four armies at any given time. That was practically half of a Valentine, Hylian, or Gerudo active military, not counting reserve forces. These were numbers that could inflict a whole lot more than just "mischief", human superiority with military technology be damned. If this report is true, Alexandria thought, then how has no one noticed this?
She needed to confirm details with whomever wrote this report, and soon. She needed to get in touch with military intelligence and put her in contact with whomever had compiled all this information, ask for his opinions and speculation on certain issues, and immediately. Alexandria quickly scrolled up to the top of the report, found the entry that listed the author's name…
Military intelligence captain Steven.
Alexandria stared for all of about a second before she compared the military ID number on the report with that of Major Steven's dossier. It was a match. And Steven was ranked captain two years ago, when this report was submitted.
It took Alexandria another moment to process this: Major Steven, making up a third of the 1st Special Investigative Unit she was part of, was the one who filed this comprehensive report on zorans.
Surprise aside – the major wondered if this had anything to do with his appointment amongst the ranks of the 1st SIU, and why no one else on the National Defense Committee had connected the dots beforehand – Alexandria wasted no time in attempting to contact Steven instead, trying to reach him through a military phone. If he wasn't going to share intelligence, then he had to at least know that zorans were involved.
The connection, however, did not go through; Steven either wasn't picking up the phone on his end, or was disconnected from the network. Alexandria nevertheless took a look on the 1st SIU server that the National Defense Committee had given them by requisitioning one of military intelligence's databases. It was not to her surprise that Juno's reports were meticulous in its inanity; it wasn't that she had nothing to report, but simply chose not to report, for the server was shared, and – as a fond admirer of a "need-to-know" basis when she was at the very top – she did not like to share information. Alexandria herself did not file many reports herself, although it largely had to do with her spending more of her time in the field and a lack of talent with writing in the first place.
Steven's logs, however, were clean, organized, and meticulous. Aside from constant status updates and detailed briefings of his personal findings – which amounted to very little – there were even transportation logs of where he had been over the past few days, which Alexandria direly needed if she was going to reach the only male officer of the 1st SIU. One phone call later, however, and she learned that Steven requisitioned command of a transport helicopter from his last known location, October City, and then fell off the grid after that; he apparently didn't update his logs to wherever he was going. Mercifully, however, she was put into contact with the specific helicopter that had transported Major Steven, and received confirmation minutes afterwards from the pilot that the major was now on-the-ground somewhere at a specific set of coordinates that Steven had not forbade the helicopter crew from sharing.
The coordinates on the map showed that there was nothing of particular interest there, no population centers, infrastructure, or even Valentine military outposts.
But remembering that she was dealing with the aquatic zorans, Alexandria still couldn't help but notice that it was the exact spot where the Ardas River split from the Evros River.
Leaning into the cockpit of the helicopter, the major swiftly thrust the monitor of her handheld in front of both pilots, showing them where exactly on the map and coordinates she needed to get to, right now. "Emergency reroute. Take me to these coordinates."
Dozens of kilometers away, and coincidentally also several meters above ground in a rotary-wing aircraft, Juno had ascertained the situation in a relatively different way.
She had not strongly taken the zorans into consideration for the simple matter of fact that, as far as she knew, Valentine intelligence did not have enough information on the zorans. No one did; they had effectively become an isolationist people ever since the Zoran Crusades…or, at least as isolationist as politics would permit them to, given that neither Valent, Hyrule, and Gerudo were particularly enthusiastic about the prospects of a zoran rebellion, and kept close tabs on possible insurgencies that often infringed on zoran political and personal freedoms. Still, the matter of the fact was that Juno considered any attempt to make preemptive informational tactics regarding the maritime race to ultimately be a dead end with insufficient resources…at least until a periodic update came onto her handheld computer.
For her, it was fortunate that Alexandria was not as tech-savvy as most intelligence officers would prefer to be; handing most of her electronic tasks to support groups instead, she was more of a field agent than an intelligence analyst, which was why – days into their investigation – Juno had already managed to crack into her handheld computer, kept track of Alexandria covertly and periodically to maintain an idea on what her rival was up to.
Juno was peripherally aware of such utter pettiness, but reasoned that all was fair in love and war. Such tactics were merely a means to an end, and so long as the consequences all worked out when the dust settled…well, consequentialist moralities fortunately tended to historically mesh well with military leadership.
As expected of a former special forces officer, Alexandria's thinking and subsequent actions were relatively non-linear. Whereas Juno followed a fast-paced, rigorous, yet time-tested conventional methodology of deduction, Alexandria had taken on a far more unconventional approach by investigation high-probability scenarios that may not have led to each other at first glance. Still, Juno had not ascended to the rank of major at so young an age without the assistance of pedigree or status by being incompetent, and while Alexandria's movements had initially been rather unpredictable, they became immediately understandable once Juno became aware of such movements being made.
This new activity, however, moving in the direction of the Ardas and the Evros – without nothing near the direction Alexandria was headed in – was utterly puzzling even to Juno. What the hell is over there?
Checking Alexandria's previous logs – a small script that recorded every action the intelligent major ever did with her computer, with records covertly being transmitted to Juno's own handheld device – Juno retraced every piece of her rival's investigation step-by-step, and then…
Holy shit. Juno felt her entire body go lax at the revelation she eventually came to, wide-eyed. How have I not noticed this?
It did not take long for her to react, however, and seconds later, she was connecting a call to her subordinates who were, with any luck, still at their previous site of operations.
"Are our people still in Astric?" the major demanded the moment the call was connected, before her subordinate had any chance to say anything.
The subordinate was startled, but still managed to answer crisply, "Yes, ma'am."
Orders were snapped off with rapid-fire alacrity, Juno tolerating no delay in accomplishing what should conventionally be considered impossible. "I want full strategic and tactical command of the outfits within five minutes, and for them to be moving out to the coordinates I'm sending you in ten. Forget logistics; abandon any and all supplies and equipment they don't have time to pack, just get them combat-ready and moving in ten." Waiting for a proper, conventional relocation would take too long; it was a poor decision by any conventional doctrine, but Juno knew she wasn't dealing with conventional warfare at this point, and simply needed armed bodies in the area as quickly as possible. The soldiers were simply going to have to take whatever was around them at the time and show up in vehicles already refueled. "Invoke National Defense Committee authority. They can go back to Astric when we're done here."
There was just the slightest of hesitations on the other end. "Yes, ma'am," replied the intelligence officer, a quality to her tone barely hinting that she wasn't eager to get into the inevitable pissing match with the commanding officer in Astric over the ridiculous but necessary orders. "Which outfits, ma'am?"
"All of them."
It was dark beyond the confines of the APC, but the interior of the vehicle had not be bright to begin with, and it took only seconds for Link's eyes to adjust to the new environment as he followed Jessica out of the APC, giving a careful, deliberate sweep around with his gaze. It was clear they were inside some kind of manmade structure, but the lack of lighting, the darkness, the concrete surroundings, the sounds of water, smell of filth, and the feeling of dampness told Link that they were likely underground again…likely a sewer system.
"Another sewer system," Durandara groaned privately to Link, echoing the agent's thoughts. "Why can't our getaways be more creative and less unpleasant?"
Mentally concurring with the AI nearly caused Link to space out and bump into Jessica, whom the Hylian suddenly realized had paused and looked a little defensive. It was not difficult to surmise why: The room was almost entirely bluish-silver. Not literally, but a practiced gaze around the chamber suddenly told Link that they were surrounded by zorans that numbered in the dozens. Fifty, sixty, maybe more, most of the carrying weapons of some sort, men and women both, some of them looking small enough to be children. They were moving around with tasks that made the chamber look almost like the hangar of some military installation, an impression reinforced by the fact that there were boxes, crates, outdated machinery, old weapons, and plenty of ammunition scattered all over the place. It seemed to be an overwhelming amount to smuggle into Hyrule, even though they were no longer as far from the northern shores as they could've been, and Link contemplated the possibility that the zorans had, in fact, already managed to infiltrate Hylian subterranean networks long before this war, that entire warbands were hiding down here with weapons and ammunition while a country in peacetime didn't know better.
Link decided against the possibility. If this was the case, there was no way the zorans would've let him see this place and then leave alive…or, at least, he was hoping he'd get to leave alive. That the zorans moved in after the Hylians and the Valentine moved out was a lot more logical an explanation.
The observation of his surroundings, however, caused Link to suddenly be overcome with the feeling uncomfortable for most agents, the realization that he was standing out outrageously; almost every eye in the room was on him and Jessica as the two non-zorans, most of the gazes wary, harsh, and unfriendly…and even then, the zorans didn't seem to be distracted from whatever tasks they were doing as much as they were just reviewing the situation and making peace with their inner feelings. For what had to be the two hundred and seventeenth time since he had embarked on this mission, Link had to fight back the feeling of overpowering defenselessness. He had been on the wrong end of too much firepower on what seemed to at least be a weekly basis now, but being outnumbered in such close-quarters against so many potentially hostile zorans served – more so than anything else – to drive home how out of his field and specialty he was, and that – even with Jessica an ally – if the zorans decided to kill Link for any number of reasons imaginable or unimaginable, he wouldn't stand a chance.
Somewhere in the back of his head, he was beginning to miss the days when "covert action" had more to do with information handoffs, extraditing defecting foreign officers, and conducting surveillance on suspicious targets, and less to do with taking on military forces, dealing with historically hostile maritime races, and sabotaging superweapons that could easily turn him into a rather nasty splatter against the pavement.
Still, he moved from the APC, motivated largely by the necessity to move out of the way as two zorans armed with a stretcher passed Link by without much regard – as if he and Jessica were not there at all – emerging a mere moment later with the wounded zoran from before in between them. He was still breathing, but unconscious and even paler than he had seemed in the darkness of the APC. Link had the distinct feeling that, one way or another, he wouldn't see that zoran again.
"Link?" Jessica murmured, noting the Hylian's distraction. The Joint Intelligent officer looked up, noted that he was now trailing behind his two zoran escorts. The zorans had not ordered them to follow, but it seemed highly advisable to do so nonetheless; this was not the kind of place either Link or Jessica wished to be caught isolated in, and so they moved to join their allies of convenience, the former with more difficulty due to lingering pains than the latter.
They did not get far, however. They had barely crossed half the chamber with the crowd parting before them when a bark resounded from in front of them. "Bark" was the only way Link could adequately describe it, for it was a sound that was nearly identical to that of a dog, except a syllable – Link failed to catch it in time – was clearly enunciated by the zoran vocal cords that made their speech feel like some kind of metallic reverberation. As opposed to a canine, something that the Hylian actually reflexively expended to see, what he could only identify as an angry zoran emerged from the sea of bluish-silver, flanked by two more armed zorans that seemed calmer but no less imposing.
The older zoran – Link decided that they weren't interested in providing names, so he mentally labeled the older one the Veteran and the younger one the Driver – did not motion for either Link or Jessica to stop, but when he halted a full step behind the Driver, the two non-zorans also froze where they were, watching a snarl develop on the Driver's face as he stalked forth to confront the armed entourage that had suddenly intercepted their party. Unsurprisingly, no one seemed happy. Words were hissed with varying degrees of furtiveness, although whether the words of their altercations were meant to be kept privy from Link and Jessica, or the zoran crowd around them, the Hylian knew not. He tried to read their lips, failed to gleam anything he could understand from the conversation silent to him, concluded that they were speaking a language outside his knowledge. Still, one did not need to understand the vocabulary to read body language and facial language. Whether the suppression of either was a racial trait or a trained one, the Hylian was not sure, but he was rather certain that the zorans were coming to some sort of disagreement, and were arguing about it in as civil – or as covert – a manner as possible.
Somehow, Link couldn't help but wonder if the terms of the game had suddenly changed. He spared a furtive glance at Jessica, observed that she hadn't saw what he had saw; she was too busy giving her own cautious looks at the numbers and weaponry that the zorans were packing, assessing and categorizing their manpower and firepower.
The sudden silence interrupted Link's thoughts as he realized the quarreling zorans had fallen silent, staring at each other coldly, calmly. Glares locked, their hands seemed to slowly move in a position ready for hand-to-hand combat. With the fins zorans had across their arms that could emit high voltage shocks, Link knew well enough that such a confrontation could be lethal. There was an astoundingly intense, restrained quality to the altercation, and he couldn't help but somehow assume, despite a near-complete lack of understanding of zoran culture, that – had this encounter happened in less exceptional circumstances – no one would've hesitated to draw blood on the spot.
But Veteran had approached from behind, settled a hand on Driver's shoulder, pulling him back. His body language was calmer: Not confrontational, but anything but submissive. The way he addressed the zorans obstructing his path was firm, but peaceable; Link might've felt that Veteran seemed almost bored. Words, statements were exchanged in the form of what looked like swift negotiation, and although they didn't look too happy about it, in the end, the interlopers stepped aside, although not without casting glares at the passing entourage as Veteran and Driver walked through, and Link and Jessica saw fit to follow as closely as possible.
No information or answers was offered or given. The absolute lack of cooperation between the two parties – aside from the zorans treating their Hyrule and Gerudo compatriots as living cargo to be ferried – was frustrating to Link, once again solidifying the idea that there was little he could do.
Their two zoran "allies" led them on a zigzagging path through the sewers, and it occurred to Link that he wasn't even sure which city they were under anymore. Judging by the size of the system, he ventured that they were under a city as opposed to just a town, and judging by how long it had been since they traveled from Astric by APC, under the assumption that they headed in a general northerly direction, Link ventured the guesses of Anaheim or Armadale, but there was no way to be sure. He thought about asking Durandara or Jessica, but doing so with the former under such circumstances was out of the question – not with the AI's existence still a Hylian secret – and Jessica looked like she had enough on her mind just collecting data that would undoubtedly be used for a new MICO threat assessment on the zorans.
Either way was good news for him, however. Both cities were only a day's travel away from the northern coast in a vehicle traveling at reasonable speed. They were getting close to the ocean…to where Jormungand prowled the waters. Hopefully, the zorans would keep the end of their promise in regards to having a way to sabotage and destroy Jormungand.
And when Link stepped into what looked like a massive sewer hub, he felt he had reason to be optimistic.
If Jessica had been worried about being on the wrong end of too much zoran firepower before, Link was sure that she was downright apoplectic now. The sewer hub, looking about the size of a lobby to a luxurious high-rise office building, seemed to have been converted into some kind of assembly area for a formal meeting, because the two humans discovered that they had walked into a sea of zorans. Like a crowd gathered for a town meeting, they watched the passage of the human entourage of two with quiet, expectant gazes, spheres of silence enveloping where they walked. Men, women, and children surrounded them, black, beady eyes in an ocean of bluish-gray. Link decided that he'd weather their glares, despite the fact that it seemed every zoran in the room was carrying some kind of weapon, assault rifles, submachine guns, shotguns, even a machine gun here and there. After all, if this many zorans had bothered to gather in one place, then it was likely that they were serious about rendering assistance to destroy Jormungand after all.
But as he and Jessica were through the crowd, the Hylian began to have doubts. The reactions of some of the zorans towards Veteran and Driver were muted, but others looked outright hostile. It wasn't confined to just the group of four newcomers either; he couldn't identify the precise patterns of clothing the different zorans wore, but he was beginning to have an impression that the anger was also divided along tribal lines…as if groups of the zorans here possessed a severe disagreement, and the protocols of this impromptu assembly – gathered without any foreknowledge on the part of the humans – were the only reasons why bullets haven't started flying.
In hindsight, perhaps Link's aforementioned optimism was premature.
"…their plan is in motion, but we are buying time with the assembling of this council."
Link missed it at first. A large part of it, of course, was the fact that he had not expected it; having spent hours listening to zorans talk only in their own insular dialects unless they were forced to address him or Jessica somehow, he was admittedly not of a mindset that was prepared to register the fact that Interlingua was suddenly being spoken. That being said, even when the fact dawned upon him in realization, it still took him several seconds to work out precisely what that – Interlingua being spoken, unannounced – meant down here.
"Old rivalries will make it a difficult vote," continued the clearly zoran voice, the tone calm and respectful, having sounded distant and faraway before but now getting closer and closer, "but most of us are not interested in agitating Valent more than we have to. A show of goodwill…"
The flashes of green in the crowd of bluish-gray surprised both sides. There weren't just one but two sets of green fatigues when the chamber suddenly began to fall silent, the zorans around them ceasing in their conversations to watch the accidental, unexpected joining. Because while no one had intended it for it to happen, because while no one actually knew what the other side had done prior to events leading up to now, it did not stop Link from suddenly coming face-to-face with a young, male Valentine intelligence major.
Link reacted almost instantly even as Durandara shouted a warning into his ear, but the Valentine intelligence officer wasn't slow on the uptake either. Nor, in the fact, was everyone around them, because one instant Link had saw an unwelcome shade of green, and the next instant guns were raised and pointed at anyone and everyone in a massive standoff that Link had never seen since the Limborough Raid. The zorans had weapons up to, pointed at each and every imaginable direction, lethal intent somehow divided by some kind of tribal lines Link did not recognize, lines that he quickly realized were irrelevant to him due to the likelihood he would die instantly the moment guns started firing.
The Hylian had a clear line of fire to his target, but it was a split-second later that he realized that the enemy major did not. Partially obscuring his view of his target but mostly hiding Link from the Valentine intelligence officer was the familiar tan uniform upon the slender frame of a Gerudo MICO major. Her guns akimbo, Jessica had positioned herself right in front of Link, giving him a clear shot over her shoulder, but largely shielding him from the Valentine officer. The handgun in her left hand was pointed at the enemy's chest, while the right hand angled her assault rifle to the side in preparation to cut down a group of zorans with guns pointed far too close towards them for anyone's comfort. The Valentine major didn't bother to try and edge to the side to get a better shot; he simply kept both of them pinned with the threat of violence.
With one hand, there was no way Jessica could fire her assault rifle accurately. At this range, it didn't matter. If a firefight were to break out at that moment as was, there was no chance she would survive, and Link's chances were minimal as well; she was wearing body armor, but the vest wouldn't be able to deflect every round. They'd be riddled with dozens of bullets before their bodies hit the floor. But the threat, the deterrence, was as clear as day: If she was going down, she was going to take as many zorans with her as possible.
Despite the tension, there was an eerie sense of palpable calm amongst the aggressors. The zorans, however, seemed to have special mention; Link felt tense, and Jessica, too, was breathing bit harder than she'd otherwise be. The Valentine major largely looked angry and focused. But almost every zoran around him, despite having assault rifles pointed at each other, were frighteningly ice-cool, almost completely stoic. In fact, Driver looked more annoyed than anything.
"Woman." Veteran had spoken in a remarkably calm but stern voice in Interlingua to Jessica, probably because she was the non-zoran in the room who currently had her hands on the most firepower, at least when compared to Link's gunsword and the Valentine major's handgun. "Lower your weapon."
On the other side, another zoran – there were enough indicators to tell Link that this was definitely someone from another tribe – stepped beside Steven, his message the same but his tone more placating. "Steven, this is not the proper place."
Link did his best to prevent a frown from creasing upon his brow to betray any hint that he had caught onto something. He couldn't recognize the divisions of the zoran race – assuming that they lived in units of tribes, in any case – and therefore did not know precisely who was on his side and who wasn't save Veteran and Driver, but the ones beside the Valentine major – Steven, his name was – were uniformly pointing guns away from him, as if defending him, while the one that had implored him to defuse hostilities had spoken in a tone – as far as Link could discern zoran tones – that implied non-hostile familiarity, if not friendliness. Precisely what it said about Valent's strategic assets was something that Link didn't want to jump to conclusions on, but first indicators were not good at all.
Despite the words exchanged, no one lowered their weapons by a centimeter. "I cannot let them leave this place," Steven stated plainly, resolutely, his voice harder than Link would've given a man of his youth and appearance for. The Hylian himself found himself agreeing with the major's assessment in the other direction; if it didn't mean certain death for himself, he'd also ensure that Steven would not leave alive to inform his friends of Link's last known position.
"You will have your chance to plea to the Council," came the response from the zoran beside the Valentine major, a little more urgently this time. "Do not jeopardize it here."
Those words didn't seem to influence the standoff by any measure, and all the weapons were kept steadily to bear on their targets…for several moments, anyways. Finally, after what felt like agonizing hours, Steven finally began to slowly lower his weapon, and Link – realizing he had no choice if he hoped to leave this place alive for now – also cautiously followed suit, ensuring that the angle of his gunsword's descent never exceeded that of his opponent. Jessica, too, was mimicking the motion, and the zorans seemed to do so two seconds slower, apparently more invested in keeping the peace until council could be convened.
In hindsight, Link realized he could not tell what came first, the shots or the explosions.
It was good that the blasts of sound and gas happened on the other side of the chamber, because the dozen or so zorans who had otherwise would've riddled all of them with bullets had suddenly instinctively turned around in surprise at the source of the blasts. Nearly simultaneously, gunshots went off. Whether it was a deliberate, calculated act of violence, or shots fired out of panic and reflex was irrelevant, for it only generated a great domino chain effect that instantly engulfed the chamber into a sudden shooting battle. And it was good that the zorans who stood before them, the zorans that otherwise would've killed them all, had turned to see the origin of the fuss, because Jessica had also reacted by pulling the triggers of her weapons. For almost an entire second, the vision before Link exploded into a cloud of silver-purple mist as bullets drew blood everywhere. The next second, he had suddenly blacked out, the unbelievably loud sounds of gunfire going off everywhere in an enclosed chamber overpowering his sense of hearing, but his sense of vision and vertigo strangely disengaged.
It took him moments to even realize that his vision was entirely black, a state of being that disappeared only after a renewed sense of pain and aching suddenly lanced through his body. His vision returned, half of it filled with bloodstained floor, the other with the surprised face of a dead zoran that was lying beside him. Peripherally, he realized that he was lying on the ground. More pertinently, he realized a moment later that Veteran had tackled both him and Jessica onto the ground, where bullets suddenly flew about them in a heated crossfire. Driver wasn't down on the floor, but he had knelt onto one knee, and was firing his assault rifle fire into the mess.
The Hylian infiltrator barely registered the fact that this was most likely the most ridiculous firefight he had ever seen, a scene that defied virtually every rule he knew about firefights. There was no tactics about it, no formations, spaces, or fields of fire to considered. It was to be expected, what with the massive standoff earlier being the prologue, but it was still somewhat unimaginable to him that it had happened, that a chamber crammed with heavily armed, militant combatants had all suddenly decided it was time to unleash a hail of bullets everywhere. One moment, everyone had started lowering their weapons; the next moment, more than half of everyone present was dying in their own pools of blood.
In his daze, he wondered if he was actually dying on the floor along with everyone else. He knew it wasn't the case, but it was so terribly difficult to concentrate. Maybe it had to do with having his head slammed against the floor. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that it felt as if every injury in his body sustained up to now had suddenly reopened and erupted, a sensation so all-encompassing Link wasn't entirely sure if he'd ever be able to move again.
Flashes of green caught his attention, and it was only then that Link suddenly realized from whom the explosions came from. A hole in the nearby wall had been formed what must have been a tremendous amount of shaped charges applied to bypass zoran defensive positions and give straight shots into the killzone, because Valentine soldiers were beginning to move through, their assault rifle fire joining the zorans' own. The Valentine major from earlier – Steven – apparently didn't come alone.
The crossfire was somehow becoming more coherent with the introduction of another party. Although tracers still flew between various zoran groups, much of it had been redirected at the Valentine interlopers, creating an equally intense but less chaotic battle dynamic…which wasn't a particularly useful sentiment given that ballistic rounds were still bouncing everywhere, and Link felt no less in danger than before. If anything, the chances of him dying seemed even greater. He wasn't sure how the zoran rules of engagement at this point, but he was most certain that Valentine forces would be focused on him specifically once visual contact had been made. It was, in fact, probably safe to assume that Link was the sole reason why Valentine forces had been deployed here to begin with.
The sensation of being pulled up by strong arms gave his body the kick-start it needed, and his bodily motor functions seemed to return as Veteran suddenly got off him, allowing him to limp onto his feet at the very least. Jessica already had a knee on the ground, picking off hostile targets – mostly Valentine soldiers that were beginning to pour in from all over the place, but also at the occasional zoran pointing their weapon a bit too close in their general direction - with her assault rifle. Bursts of fire continued to stream from her barrel until Veteran tapped her on the shoulder twice to get her attention.
"We are leaving," the zoran said blandly, letting go of Link now that the agent was on his feet, his body language demanding that the Hylian and the Gerudo follow without question. "Council will not convene tonight."
Link wondered if that was the closest thing zorans got to cracking a joke.
They began to fall back, Link and Jessica moving in standard leapfrogging maneuvers: Jessica would retreat several meters before stopping beside cover and laying down a field of covering fire by shooting anything that looked like it posed an imminent thread – which at this point looked like everything – allowing Link to fall back past her by several meters before turning around behind cover and providing covering fire so that Jessica could retreat once more. Driver took the riskier option of simply retreating backwards, shooting at everything he could see with reckless abandon and nearly no thought towards ammunition conservation…not that shooting into a crowd required much of that.
Veteran, on the other hand, simply briskly moved his way through the chamber, almost as if he was marching briskly though the firefight. To Link and Jessica, it was a surreal sight, a sign of utter overconfidence and a disregard to one's own safety. The Hylian thought it was insane, but it peripherally occurred to him that this was perhaps a product of a mindset that had understood this as the sudden oversaturation of bullets, and the acceptance that if one was going to get hit, one was going to get hit.
It certainly didn't stop Link from staying low, however.
In hindsight, the Hylian realized that he had lost the Valentine major in the chaos. He would've pumped several rounds into Steven's skull first thing as soon as he had ascertained the situation, but somewhere in between those two hypothetical events, he had been knocked to the ground to avoid the crisscrossing fields of fire passing above him. After that, Major Steven was lost in a sea of grayish-blue and green. The Joint Intelligence agent wanted to hiss out some kind of curse for letting the man get away…but realized that – with Valentine military forces already attacking this particular spot – trying to silence Steven would not have repaired any damage that had already been inflicted. Putting as much distance between himself and here was now infinitely more important.
The battle was now developing into a ring of fire. Even as Link's group moved into a retreat, the surviving fireteams were moving towards the walls where there was better cover instead of in the center where they would be caught by crisscrossing lines of fire. Movement was still fluid, however, with the zorans engaged in a fighting retreat while the Valentine infantrymen pressed their advantage. From beyond the hole in which Valentine soldiers were pouring in, Link thought he could hear the deep thuds of at least two autocannons in the distance. That likely meant Valentine IFVs on ground level. This was a large-scale, coordinated assault, not a simple infantry raid.
Miraculously, the four had somehow made it to the walls of the chamber, getting close to one of the chamber's side exits, a door – possibly the same door they had entered the chamber from – that led into a corridor with cloisters of metallic pipes. It was here that Link noticed that a lot of the zoran children who had been observing the proceedings of the council that never gathered had, in fact, gathered by these doorways…but instead of fleeing, they remained by these exits, poised to flee, but not actually doing so. Link didn't have long to ponder this phenomenon, however, not when he watched Driver pass by the children, through the doorframe, and suddenly come under ambush of a zoran that had been hiding right behind the door. It was fortunate for Driver that his assailant was wielding a KS-74 assault rifle in the narrow confines of the corridor; the weapon wasn't brought up swiftly or smoothly enough, allowing Driver to deflect the weapon as if they were engaged in melee combat. The two locked their guns as if they were clubs, trying to force the other to lose their footing. Link knew they needed to move forward, that they couldn't be stalled here, but even with his gunsword raised in handgun mode, he didn't have a clean shot, not with Driver in the way.
Then he got a break; the zoran assailant managed to thrust Driver back, causing the latter to trip and fall on his back. That would've gave Link a free shot to his target, who was aiming his KS-74 at the stunned Driver, but already another zoran had moved into position with alarming alacrity. Veteran's movements were fluid: A shot to the kneecap that caused the hostile zoran to stumble forward, a knee to the head that sent the enemy staggering and falling onto his back, and then a burst of automatic gunfire to the chest. All of it delivered with smooth, practiced motions. He moved over to the body, pulled the trigger twice more, turning what had once been a zoran head into messy splatters of flesh and blood, and then pulled the KS-74 from the corpse's hands.
To the side, Driver was getting up once more, scowling as he prowled ahead without any regard to how Veteran may very well have saved his life right then and there. Moving through the door and down the corridor, he continued to act as point-man, even as Veteran suddenly shoved the KS-74 into the hands of one of the zoran children he recognized, said something in that clipped language that was the zoran tongue with damning calmness. Link couldn't understand, but merely watched with some degree of shock as the child – surely she was no older than thirteen – fell onto a knee to a firing position, removed the magazine of the assault rifle, and inspected the clip, even as Veteran began to usher Link and Jessica out of the chamber and into the corridor. "Go," he stated.
Jessica cast a startled look back even as she was pushed past the door. "Did you just…?" she began, her gaze turned just as the girl reinserted the magazine of bullets into as assault rifle. She didn't get any further than that, however, as Veteran simply slammed the door shut behind them once the team had passed through, locking the door, and barring it with a metallic pipe nearby. From the other side, they could hear a new set of automatic fire coming from a spot close to the door.
As if to prevent his "guests" from thinking too much about it, the Veteran whirled around immediately after ensuring no one would pass through the door, settling that steely calm look upon Link and Jessica…but largely Link. "Our deal stands," came the even, metallic voice. "We're taking you north to destroy Jormungand." A pause for emphasis, then, "Do we have a problem?"
Steven resembled little of the intelligence major he actually was when he finally climbed out of the utilities staircase leading up from the sewer system and into the streets, helped by a corporal who seemed to be convinced he was injured. The red that flowed down his forehead and formed a small stream across his face and down his neck seemed to largely be highlighted against the silver-purple stains of zoran blood that matted against his green fatigues. Dust, dirt, and soot covered his being, and he looked more like someone caught in the peripheral of a bombing than someone who had been at ground-zero of a massive shootout.
The intelligence major waved the corporal off, however, complete with a jerk of his elbow away from the soldier's supporting hands. The enlisted man backed off; for all his control, it was not difficult to tell that Steven was furious.
Processions of armored Valentine vehicles continued to roll down the street as he walked down the surface world, indicating how much manpower and firepower had been diverted here on short notice. It was still nighttime, although the first light of dawn would likely encompass the area within an hour or two. Despite such, the derelict Hylian city of Trident looked like it had been transformed into a staging area within minutes, a feat only accomplishable with sufficient paygrade to move so many units and so much resources in a near-instant manner.
It did not require an intelligence agent to figure out the only two logical candidates for this effort.
Turning a corner on the city block, which gave him enough time to cool his head enough to begin processing thoughts dispassionately, Steven began to seek out a sufficiently high-ranking officer to point him to wherever the field headquarters was, but found rather quickly that it wasn't necessary. A humvee had pulled up next to him, a sergeant stepping out from the passenger's seat almost instantly as the vehicle came to a halt. "Major, sir," the officer gave a crisp nod; he knew better than to salute an officer in an active battlefield. "I've been instructed by Major Juno to transport you to the mobile command center."
As I thought, Steven thought, suppressing what would've otherwise been a very evident grimace, wondering how the fellow intelligence officers managed to become aware of his presence within so short a time. "Very well," he replied simply, getting into the rear seat of the vehicle, knowing full well that asking this sergeant anything would likely be a waste of time; the man likely didn't actually know anything. He knew this cloak-and-dagger game.
As the vehicle began to speed down the now-active streets of Trident, Steven juggled his thoughts between damage control with the zorans and the military presence that was cleaning up in Trident. Judging by telltale signs of the ensuing military operation, he ventured a guess that this was a unit that was mobilized mere hours ago from an outpost nearby. No, he observed, spotting different insignias on the uniform of the men he passed by. Several different companies, most likely from several different outposts. The thought that Juno could simultaneous manage command and logistics of several companies in tandem in response to an emergency situation – and presumably with little in the way of warning or prior exercises – was almost mind-boggling to Steven, and served only to emphasize how much he lagged behind in terms of experience.
Or, really, he would've cared a lot more if he wasn't a little bit more concerned about not getting furious with Juno about ruining his chances to having ended everything tonight.
When Steven's ride finally came to a halt, he found himself stepping out of the humvee and staring at the doorway of a mobile command center in front of him. To the fleeting glance, the large vehicle looked more like a large semi-trailer truck or some kind of armored bus, but the officer knew that a more apt description was more along the lines of an armored personnel carrier. Designed to fit a small command staff and all necessary electronic equipment to respond to a situation where conventional outposts couldn't be deployed, the vehicle was nevertheless armored just as well as any other APC or IFV, and possessed deceptively agile transportation capabilities that allowed it to traverse rough roads that would've otherwise been closed to trucks.
There was also the peripheral understanding that the mobile command center was, strictly speaking, unnecessary; the closest outpost, Steven knew, was not so far that standard communications and command equipment could not allow Juno to direct operations from the comfort and safety of a distant tent. That she chose to be here at all – that she went through the trouble of diverting this much resources so she could personally take command on-site – spoke volumes.
Ascending the short flight of stairs leading up to the side entrance of the command center, Steven nimbly stepped into its interior; the lighting within was dim save the glow from multicomputer computer screens on both sides of the wall. The interior was almost like a hallway, command and intelligence officers sitting on computers to the sides, coordinating the detailed aspects of the operation while the familiar-looking commanding officer strode back and forth down the aisle, keeping an eye on the proceedings as her focused glare moved swiftly from one monitor to another. So focused, in fact, that she did not initially notice Steven's arrival even as she gave updated orders to one of the officers for relay to ground forces. "Negative," she was stating assertively. "Disengage and withdraw, but tag the structure for a surgical air strike. The zorans are not our concern."
The impatient tapping of Steven's booted foot finally attracted Juno's attention after a few seconds of operational management, causing the latter to inhale deeply and straighten up; she did not expect the former to be anything other than upset. Etiquette and good breeding were holding back youthful anger and frustration, something Juno supposed she should be thankful for. She could always file incriminating reports later, but being on the receiving end of a punch to the face was not precisely an experience that she preferred to have repeated often, even with the promise of swift vindication. Military intelligence wasn't precisely a field of work that endeared officers to the average man, including their own.
"Let's calm down before we jump to any hasty conclusions," Juno was already saying as she got within conversational range of Steven, getting her first words out. Several officers spared the upcoming altercation a glance or two, but otherwise maintained focus on their work; it testified as to their professionalism, but if Steven had watched them more carefully, he might've seen that several of those looks betrayed the fact that these were officers familiar with Juno, having worked with her before. Her people, in a sense.
Steven was beyond caring, though. The only reason why he didn't blow up immediately was because he caught sight of two persons in the peripheral of his vision that made him hesitate. A large, well-built man that looked like he was a mercenary out of a horrid warzone, the other a relatively small and definitely young girl carrying what looked like a giant kukri. Both looked like they were from Gerudo, which made Steven wonder precisely what they were doing here in the command center of an all-important Valentine military intelligence major.
Whatever his concerns were, however, Juno merely said when he noticed Steven's distraction, "They're with me."
Under most other circumstances, Steven probably would've asked for an elaboration, or at least something more than just "they're with me". Unidentified Gerudo mercenaries working for Valentine intelligence, however, were pretty far down the list of his priorities at the moment, however, and that aspect was forgotten in favor of addressing the standing issue of Juno being here, ruining an operation that had been this close to shutting down the infiltrator once and for all. "What the hell was that supposed to be?" he demanded hotly, his temper barely kept in check.
For someone who had blown an operation out of the water, Juno was infuriatingly calm, almost cold as she ruthlessly replied, "Tying up loose ends."
The younger intelligence major had a feeling that he would've laughed at how preposterous the response was had he not snapped right there, "I was handling the situation! Everything was under control!"
But, again, cold calmness: "And you neglected to inform anyone of your solo operation."
"Did you not go solo yourself?" That came out almost as a sneer, in the best tradition of feuding intelligence officers. "Where have you been that I couldn't contact you?"
"Some measure of confidentiality is required for the line of work we're in," Juno sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose to alleviate some of the fatigue in her eyes before settling a glare at Steven that actually made him hesitate for a moment. "However, I update my logs when I've made breakthroughs or am about to conduct military operations of any scale, such as this one." She took one step closer. "Wouldn't someone have wanted to know that you were going into zoran territory all on your own?"
Steven wanted to ask precisely when Juno had ever updated her logs with "breakthroughs", but bit his tongue when he realized that, for all intents and purposes, this one might very well be her very first breakthrough…coinciding with his own, for that matter.
"Not to mention it seems you've been in bed with the zorans," continued the older intelligence officer, and that, Steven knew, was going to be a little harder for him to justify. "That I don't know about this seems to mean when the National Defense Committee also does not know about this, especially since I find this very relevant to the investigation at hand." She clasped her hands behind her, but her expression remained stern, almost condescending. "Did you think that maybe we could've made use of the fact that we're in a shooting war with the zorans?"
"The zorans are not our enemies," Steven cleared with a sigh. Trying to calm down, his concern about the two mercenaries in the corner grew, but it was still largely dwarfed by the more pressing issue that there was a lot to confirm, a lot to corroborate on if he didn't want to sink his career…starting with the zorans, naturally. "They're not our allies either, but I was told – off-the-record, to the point where it was simply not relevant at the time – that a sufficiently large collective of zoran tribes are not interested in being involved in this war, and that they wouldn't mind watching Hyrule and Gerudo burn."
Juno pursed her lips, her expression stoic and betraying just hints of doubt and suspicion, sentiments that were only skin-deep. Inside, however, her mind was racing at a near-panic, trying to corroborate the new information that was now coursing through her mind. It had never occurred to her that the zorans might have a stake in this conflict; for all that she knew and the National Defense Committee knew, they were going to sit on the sidelines, in their reserves, powerless to intervene in any way against forces so much greater than them. That's what everyone believed. And yet this green intelligence major who was promoted more for his family connections than his actual family capabilities had always had this channel with the zorans, and knew what their agenda was, their plans, tribal dynamics, everything. What else didn't Juno know? What else was of such importance to their campaign in the north? And how does all this – zoran tribal conflicts, poorly-armed guerilla fighters, and Steven's stake in the whole thing – factor in with Jormungand?
"That was why I approached them first," Steven continued, misunderstanding the pause in Juno's momentum. "They were passive observers first, but I was able to learn through personal connections that certain groups of zorans are assisting the enemy, and that there are also groups that oppose them."
There was a general moment of silence after these words, the two intelligence majors locking glares at each other, but with a much different dynamic than when Steven first came in. They were all now assessing their options, seeing what came next. Even the officers around them micromanaging Valentine mop-up operations here had paused to watch and listen, only half-heartedly concentrating on their command and control tasks. They, too, were intelligence officers, and recognized Steven's sudden worth, a treasure trove of previously unknown information.
Finally, with slow, deliberate cautiousness, Juno elected to speak first. "I'm willing to chalk all this up as a big misunderstanding and move on," she allowed, her voice a little softer than before but no less serious. "This is not a lost cause." She gestured towards one of the screens in the command center, showing what seemed to be a digital map of the area and a small, moving convoy of Valentine vehicles moving rapidly north. "We have pursuit parties tracking the escapees right now, and if you understand the zorans as well as I think you do, I could use your help in tracking them down and neutralizing the infiltrator in the same stroke." Her intense gaze once again settled on Steven. "Are you with me?"
Under the eyes of a dozen men and women in the room, the intelligence majors fell into a deliberative silence, the next hour or so of operations questionably dependent on the conclusion arrived upon by these two officers who had moreorless been given a blank check by the Valentine military. Quiet, stoic contemplation, striking a pragmatic, reasonable balance amongst thoughts and emotions on the matter.
But the truth was that a conclusion had already been reached before the path to arrive at one had begun. A predetermined answer: One had been found long before the question was posed. And that was why Steven was already removing his gloves and taking off his tattered coat – it was quickly relieved from his arms by a staff officer – as he gave Juno a firm nod of conviction.
"Let's take this son of a bitch down."
Exoria File #027
Excerpt from Section Four, "Analysis of Zoran Militant Capability in the Late 15th Century (April 14, 1506 a.s.r.)"
"A perspective into zoran militant organization is inseparable from their post-Crusades culture. Although a debate can be formed in terms of whether or not the zorans possessed a militant culture even before the Crusades, this reputation was solidified during the Crusades as merely a matter of practical strategy in asymmetrical warfare: Zorans launching preemptive strikes on an enemy before the latter can launch a first blow, but on terrain in which they possessed a disadvantage. The so-called 'indiscriminate warfare' was a ruthless symptom of a broader and alarmingly effective strategy, preventing enemy campaigns by destroying the countryside and denying regional lords from accumulating the resources needed to launch military campaigns. After two Zoran Crusades, what had become a strategic consideration eventually crossed over the low cultural barrier between the citizenry and the military; support at home solidified the acceptance of enemy civilians as legal targets specifically and the necessity of ruthless action generally.
Zoran fighters do not recognize traditional military units, and instead consider only three major social units: The self, the tribe, and the species. This is tied inexorably into history seen from the zoran point of view, in which human activities during and following the Crusades have pitted the world, not only the zoran race, into a state of imperialist crisis. As such, any activity, no matter how morally reprehensible, is acceptable in the face of victory. Not unlike many historical warrior cultures, zoran society retains a sense of valiant honor and is aversive to falsehood, but extension of this attitude towards humanity is unlikely, given expectations that such values will not be reciprocated. The value of life is made a trivial concern beside the survival of the species, and although the paradigm shift in recent decades has strengthened inter-tribal conflict as to the future direction of the zorans, it is generally understood and expected that every zoran should and will give their life for the cause, regardless of age or sex. This is not to say that the zorans are suicidal, but they are more willing to engage in acts possessing higher risks with promises of greater benefit for the tribe of the species.
The zoran lack of conventional organization of military units translates into a diminished effectiveness in fighting as a team, as each zoran warrior operates as a lone wolf, banding together under ideological convenience as opposed to a component of the team. However, this mentality makes them self-reliant, highly capable, and utterly fanatic. Individual warriors are armed with the cultural ideology of their hard race: Only the survival of their species and tribe is considered a cost too great for any sacrifice, and mothers don't hesitate in sending their underage children to fight if it is deemed necessary…"
Author's Note: I have no excuse for this one. I know it's been an inexcusably long time since my last update, and I don't think any apology really cuts it at this point. The reasons are really par-of-course, really: Work, writer's block, depression, real life, Mass Effect 3, the last of which should be obvious when you realize that I have four new Mass Effect fics, yet no Exoria update. I want to reassure you that Exoria is far from dead, and that I will do what I can to ensure the updates go on. That said, real life has been throwing curveballs for the past few months now, and while I'm trying to do what I can, I think my muse is beginning to take casualties. I will do what I can to update at reasonable frequencies, but I understand if I've used up my credit at this point.
Heavenly Observer: My only real complaint is that Steven appeared to be horribly gender confused in this chapter. 'He' switches to 'she' sometimes within the same sentence.
So Steven FINALLY gets a leg up due to unusual connections with the Zora. Looking forward to how he managed to 'honour' the Zorans enough to have a personal friend amongst them, though this particular one seems more 'assimilated' into human culture than the ones that picked up Link. I'm basing that on the fact he doesn't have crazy tats and is wearing swimming trunks. Why do they hug his torso? I'm a little confused...
I've said it once, I'll say it again, the half-brother is alive. Chekhov's Gun. Seriously, a month ago he goes off on some mission, doesn't return and then Valent invades with a ridiculous amount of success. The three superweapons can't take all the credit for that.
Huh, so we might find out where Link gets his awesome gunsword skills from. Never really thought about it really, but I guess a specialised weapon like that isn't something you just pick-up self-train yourself in. Not to mention manufacturing one like Link's is probably fairly expensive.
I have no idea how I managed to mess up so horribly on pronouns. Also, I meant "hips", not "torso". Thank you very much; I've fixed all instances that I've found, and those mistakes should be gone by the time you read this. Steven shall feel insecure about his gender no more.
"Assimilation" notwithstanding, the note I want to make here is that zorans are not a single culture. There are different tribes, different groups, each with their own minor differences in culture and mentalities. An American southern rural conservative may feel a bit offended at being mistaken as an American cosmopolitan left-leaning liberal (and vice-versa), but they're ultimately all Americans. On the same vein, however, despite both being American, they're also both vastly different. So you might say I'm trying to give them nuanced-yet-obvious indicators that different groups our unique, even if – without the proper zoran context – we are generally incapable of making good observations and conclusions on such.
I'll remain silent about your theory on Zelda's half-brother, but I would make mention that Alexandria's current search will lead – somewhere somewhat far down the road – to somewhat interesting revelations. Just hang onto that tidbit for a while; I'm not including that for no reason.
Thank you for your review, and being kind enough to spot out my mistakes.
FrancisGunther: Gah, image enhancement. At least you limited it to plausible stuff, no magic rotation or 5-pixel reflections turning into crystal-clear mugshots.
Your spelling is mostly fine. I only noticed a few errors, like "blitzkrief" when you wanted "blitzkrieg". You have a tendency to mix up prepositions, though I can't remember any specific examples right now.
This part of the story is starting to drag on a bit. Link isn't doing anything important, and the "Valent investigates" subplot is less interesting than Link. The investigators are mostly just following the obvious leads and reaching conclusions we could see coming. It looks like there might be some sort of intrigue approaching, maybe a leak or some sort of power play, but if so, it might have been a better idea to start that in this chapter.
My typo rate has truly gone up, and I really need to do something about it eventually. Reading what I write sounds like a very good idea, if I weren't so hell-bent on just getting a very, very late chapter uploaded.
I am largely aware of how image enhancement works; I do know, for example, that three-dimensional rotation and ridiculously-precise image enhancement is impossible. However, I have depicted computers in the universe of Exoria to be a bit more advanced and sleek that the ones we have in real life, and that they are better at "making guesses" in regards to image enhancement than our computers are. I work with Photoshop occasionally, so I know how this kind of thing works. I'm glad my efforts to depict plausible imagery enhancements have been noticed, though.
And, yes, I am beginning to notice that the Valentine investigation subplot is turning out to be a bit more difficult to portray and remain relevant than I had initially imagined. This will be something of a learning experience, but I will attempt to salvage what I can and try to have them remain competent and interesting.
Peter200lx: The quality of writing and hours of enjoyment that you have given me require that I reciprocate in at least small way and give you thanks for the time you've put into this story. I've read the entire story over the last few weeks, and have finally caught up. Now I must painfully join the ranks of those who are waiting on new chapters instead of having more story ready to read.
I could echo the praise from many users on the qualities of this work, not the least of which is a non-immersion breaking movement of such a beloved world into the modern age. It feel up to date without stretching too far and losing its roots. The characterizations of the classic villains and heroes feels true, and the added individuals give your own flavor to the mix. Durandara feels like your adventuring companion from the games, and Epona is a great replacement for the required horse.
Not to press a point that has already been covered in multiple author's notes, but I do feel like the handling of the death of Lily was a weak point. The story thread hit hard, and honestly worked in that it showed how invested I had become in the story. It did feel wrong that both link and the jerk escaped unharmed, especially as a portion of the given reason that link survived was that he ran "fast and low". That whole paragraph about the average "height" of a firefight broke the story thread for me. Added to that your defense on the grounds of it breaks the common plot trope, felt like you were rubbing her death in the readers face. Again, the death actually drew me into the story and I would have been fine (although pained with) it, and it gave me pause, but the combination of the argument for Link's safety and the OoC plot trope subversion argument hurt your case. However, I've dwelled to long on the one part I had issue with, so let me turn to other topics.
In fact my favorite plot element was in chapter 24. (This might have to do with it being more recent causing me to remember it better). The conversion from mercenary and boomerang girl with a highly disturbing relationship into the harsh but understandable story of Kashim and Aisha was incredibly well done. I might have been a bit more touchy on the topic of disturbing relationships because of an article I had just recently read (Metroid: Other M - The Elephant in the Room) which talks about how badly things are portrayed in that game. Anyways, I was getting red flags put up in my mind, and was starting to question what was going on just at the time that you gave their back-story. This gave a very solid reason why neither of them was entirely responsible for the situation while not denying that it was a bad dynamic. I was so satisfied with your handling of the situation that I used shared my experience with multiple friends, including the one who had sent me the Metroid article.
In closing, I wish to express my thanks once again for this incredible work, and my desire to read more. I know you have work outside of writing for a much of random Internet strangers, and so I do not wish to try and increase the pressure on you. However, know that I will gladly look forward to any more chapters you are able to write and share with the world.
I must apologize for the time it has taken me to get back to your review. The last few months have been a trying force against literary progress, and I promise to provide an explanation with the next update, which I also promise will come. You will likely not be impressed with it, but it will be an explanation nonetheless.
First, I am honored and humbled by your praise. While it is true that I have a good deal of confidence in my world-building skills, this applies mostly to original universes. Exoria provided a unique challenge in which the original world must also have a specific amount of ties with canon, not so similar that it is staid and a mere cookie-cutter replication of a canon world, but also not so different that readers cannot connect with Zelda canon. I am often insecure of how well I have accomplished this and where I have made mistakes, but I am always relieved and thrilled when I am told that I have done acceptably. For that, I thank you for taking the time for telling me.
It's been quite a long time since I wrote Lily's death, sufficient time for me to look back and take indulge in very long periods of contemplation over the issue. In what I hope is hindsight from an older, more mature writer (and certainly with a lot of help from other insightful and fair writers), I do agree that Lily's death was largely motivated in large part by a combination of contempt for Hollywood-esque writing and a desire to be "edgier". It was a result partly incited by a sense of elitism, and that much has been fairly clear.
Clearly, the motivation was not at its best. In contrast, would I have changed or prevented Lily's death? I do not think I would've. That event was fueled by other correct motivations, and still has future and more personal implications – important because there will be a significant time in Exoria when the threat of continental war drifts away in place for more personal demons – and it has succeeded in establishing narrative tones I wish in my story, something that will recur in the future: "This is not a story in which everyone lives. This is not a story in which everyone gets a 'happily ever after'. This is not a story where cowards always meet their comeuppance, and the innocent always survive to see another day. This is a story of war, politics, hope, loss, people at their best, people at their worst. This is Exoria."
But, as I said before, the motivation was wrong, so the author's note at the end was wrong. Of all the things I could've emphasized about the motivations of my decision, I chose the most egotistic one, and things are now what they are now. I will not, however, change what I've written, a decision hopefully understood as one not out of hubris, but of humility. I have written what I have written, and I will take responsibility for them; even at the risk of alienating readers – which I have successfully done already in the past – I will let them see what occurred in my mind at the time, and let them judge for themselves whether the story is still worth reading. Hopefully, when they have chosen to continue and reach this point, they will accept this explanation of mine.
I have never played Metroid: Other M, but the mention of "The Elephant in the Room" did get me to go take a look. Not having played the game myself or watched its story, I am reluctant to make any final judgment calls myself or confirm whether or not the article was subject to exaggeration, but I understand the thrust of your concerns after having read it. I admit I have a somewhat morbid fascination with unhealthy, problematic relationships narratively, but I will be the first to say that they're not glamorous, and that my interest largely lies in how actual loving individuals in difficult relationships can end up making them work right. Therefore, no, in no way will I glamorize or romanticize the relationship between the two, and Kashim feels the same way. Aisha, of course, feels very differently, but…well, we do not believe her opinion is formed from the best of positions.
Your review has invoked quite a bit of thought from me, so I hope my response is adequate. I thank you for being patient with me, and hope you will be as kind (and as fairly critical) when future updates come.
kumiya: I read your fic in the past handful of days. This fic really tapped my action addiction. A creative blend of Shadow of the Colossus with a Zelda flair set in "Modern Warfare" (if only the title). It couldn't have worked better.
I really appreciate your characterization of Zelda. My favorite part was when she had just gotten into Garuda and, despite just gone through the motorcycle chase of her life, acts like a true strong leader of her country. She just whips all the tiredness and weepiness and away for "POW! Bring it on!" And gets a kiss on the hand by GANONDORF! She's regal and cunning but kind and down to earth and with a super strong human will like no other. While Link is a obviously a Determinator, it is Zelda, who seems more human and less conditioned, that gets to me. And best of all SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE'S DOING. She's got brains! It's delightful to see a woman in this role.
I love the gunsword. Classy. And Epona, the trusty steed of true WIN. If I had a favorite character, it's definitely Epona.
Link is a pretty awesome, wordless warrior. I appreciate how stoic and unstoppable he is in this fic, but I feel it would be beneficial to see more weakness, either physically or emotionally (probably the first, but the second isn't out of the question). I do have a feeling we're getting there though. I was rather baffled when Link handled Anansi without a scratch. I could not suspend my disbelief, despite him have to do various dangerous stunts. So I was deeply satisfied to read that he was going to have it a lot harder the second time around. I liked how you wasted absolutely no time showing us how much harder it is. I almost thought they were going to get him (several times)! And almost disappointed that they didn't (is that bad of me?). Something in me totally wants him to get captured. I'm not sure why. Maybe so Zelda can rescue him?
Your greatest skill by far is making me want to know WTF IS GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT! All the way from the chapter when Link and Zelda were on a wild motorcycle chase (WILL THEY ESCAPE) to Ganondorf (WHAT IS HE PLOTTING, IS HE EVIL?) to Anansi (CAN HE DO IT? WILL HE GET CAUGHT? WILL HE BE UTTERLY SQUASHED?) to being chased all over again (WHEN IS LINK GOING TO GET SHANKED!)
Your fic is so exciting, I actually had a dream involving Exoria the other night. I dreamt that I was in the tall grass like Link had been, sniping people with a big gun. At some point a person walked by me, and I wasn't sure it was an infiltrator or a friend (they also waved at me and I was super unsure what to do… sorta like those low-ranked Valentine soldiers). Then at a certain point I got spotted by enemy forces (while being distracted by the infiltrator/friend) and started having to run and dodge bullets. Let's just say I enjoyed this dream a lot more than Link enjoys being an amazingly high profile target for the enemy forces.
I have really high standards for writing, and currently I find your latest style (in the latest chapters of Exoria) to be rather wordy. I feel there are lots of chunks that seem awkward or unnecessary or repetitive. However, I feel that you have improved a lot, a lot, so much, since your first chapter published 2 years ago. I found your fic recced on tvtropes and was very excited by the concept, but I almost stopped reading upon your first paragraph. As the fic pressed onwards though, you style became less wordy and more addressed to the core elements of the narrative, something that I felt greatly enhanced the rigorous action scenes and moved things along quicker in an urgent fashion (it's war after all!). I believe your writing is the strongest in terms of your ability to describe the warfare. The vocabulary and pacing of the action scenes are strong points and definitely add a swift kick to things.
BTW, your action scenes are great! I seriously could not stop reading this fic. My eyes would become really tired but still I would just read on! And the next day would be the same thing! I just love how the danger never stops. It looks like Link is in the clear BUT NOOOO!
Your OCs… there's a lot of them. This… bothers me to a point because compared to the center characters I don't really feel interested in them at all. I'll admit sometimes when I feel there's nothing particularly important happening I skim over their parts. Jessica irks me. Her naïve honesty, incompetence and attempted helpfulness doesn't strike a chord with me. Her meek moments especially don't do well. She's sort of like a… young, hapless chick, in contrast to other female characters who are like, dunno, war hawks… Rather I just keep wondering why she keeps showing up. The subtle sexual attraction doesn't help either. It just makes me raise an eyebrow, and perhaps I give a sigh. But if there is an OC I like it has to be Stranger C (and Aisha by extension). His backstory (which I found to be well-written, helpful to your universe's concept, and emotional) shows that he has real stakes in this war, and makes me sympathetic towards him.
Oh, and Ganondorf. I really like your characterization of him too. Really. It surprised me. Whenever Link Ganon were in the same room I kept wanting to start fighting each other. But Ganondorf is so polite, and so powerful. Link is awesomely awkward in these scenes. I feel so awkward too. Fabulous :D I really wonder what he's up to right now. He seems to have been missing from the main action. We really don't get to see him that much.
I was very sad to reach this last available chapter. I saw your note on your author profile, and I wish you best of luck at settling your real life setbacks. It's been a great pleasure being able to read Exoria, and I do hope you have the time and motivation to continue your story.
I try rather hard not to let reviews get to my ego too much – reviews are great as morale-raisers, but never let them make you complacent in your writing – but while I have been honored by a lot of praise, I think "I've dreamt of your story" is probably the most astonishing, overwhelming praise I've ever received from a reviewer. For that, I thank you most graciously, and I hope I will continue to meet your expectations.
If I must name influences, then – yes – Exoria's "style", so to speak, is probably based off plenty of inspirations, chief among them Final Fantasy, Metal Gear Solid, Modern Warfare, and Shadow of the Colossus. These sources of inspiration are quite removed from the Zelda franchise in general, which is why much care was given to ensure that the story itself is still relatable to the canon from which it is derived. Exoria is indeed something of a very far-off sequel to Zelda canon, so it is in my best interests to keep everything relevant.
I'm also quite happy that my depiction of Zelda is to your liking. It is admittedly a personal thing, but I find myself often dissatisfied with the narrative relevance of female characters in the modern media, where they are often depicted as emotional, paralyzed by pressure, and otherwise insecure; even attempts to avoid such stereotypes has developed into a female character who is meant to be "strong", but ends up looking either like she's overcompensating with masculine behavior or like she's a male fantasy. Zelda in Exoria is something of a personal character challenge: Quite feminine, but also extremely competent, very analytical, rather empathetic, quite ruthless, and highly flawed. It is perhaps an example that is more "driven" and "cynical" than the basis from which I draw this character, but I would not think that Zelda from Twilight Princess would be a poor example in this instance.
Although I'm slightly perplexed that Epona has become your "favorite character", I'm nevertheless glad you have appreciated her iteration here as a next-generation military reconnaissance motorcycle.
Link's lack of speech and his ability to adapt to hostile conditions are actually fairly integral to the story from two primary aspects. The first is to give the story a bit more of a bump towards the mature spectrum in storytelling. Most Zelda games portray Link as a skilled and powerful warrior who nevertheless has a very clear-cut sense of morality and wears his heart on his sleeve. Exoria's Link is very evidently more low-key, resembling more of a professional, clandestine soldier than a knight of noble principles. Depicting him as a competent, quiet agent provides a bit of a paradigm shift to the character of Link as he's traditionally portrayed. At the same time, however, his character in this story is not without its narrative relevance, and although it's still quite a while away, I can assure you that there are reasons behind his behavior beyond "professional standards". A major hint, in fact, will be dropped in Chapter Twenty-Six. Stay tuned.
I admit I'm largely shameless in using cliffhangers as a narrative tool. I'm aware of my wordiness, however, and I'm still practicing on the economizing of words; on one hand, I feel that highly descriptive environments and conditions are quite necessary to properly provide an accurate tactical description of the battlefield (or even everyday conditions), but successive pieces of advice from far more talented authors has begun to take effect, and I'm trying to go with what's most important in such situations. I'm still working on it, and I'm still insecure about whether or not I've gotten my description of the situation across, but at least I know it's getting better bit by bit through reviews like yours.
Recurring original character populate the world of Exoria for the obvious reason of the impracticality of centering the narrative on only Link, Zelda, and Ganondorf, as well as a disinclination to use other characters who have previously appeared in other franchises. Impa is an exception because she is a consistently recurring character, but, otherwise, I have been trying quite hard to avoid canon characters who have only shown up in a single Zelda game. There is actually a major plot reason for this that won't be directly addressed in the upcoming reveals, but is an important aspect to the narrative that is being presented. I suspect I will have a lot of explaining to do when I get to those reveals. So I hope you can tolerate my original characters a bit longer as they assist – or impede – Link and his efforts to put an end to this war.
And, alas, I will have to leave you wondering about Ganondorf. He's just one of those plot elements where it's probably better if I don't answer any questions about, just so I can keep you guessing.
Once again, thank you very much for your review, and I hope you will continue to enjoy Exoria, even with its terrible rate of updates.
