Disclaimer:
Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!
The Surgeon General's Warning:
Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.
Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, ja?
Fates Intertwined
Chapter 07:
The Battle of the Caribbean Fields
A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards
Asteroid fields are absolutely wonderful places to be, although one should certainly never tell a determined and potentially megalomaniacal smuggler his or her odds of successfully navigating through one while under fire from pursuing federal interceptor-class fighters. In particular, they are beloved by Hollywood producers and space opera romantics everywhere as the archetypical fictional device to convey a tale's most frenetic, high octane space battles, chase scenes, and vice-versa, all in the name of good drama and record sales. "Professional" space pirates and persons of other ill and shady repute, however, will likely laugh scornfully at the slightest suggestion of any of the situations listed above. Nobody in their sane mind would willingly want to cruise through an asteroid field at top speed while in the middle of a fire fight with pursuit fighters or rival gangs; just trying to get around at "normal" speeds was hard enough, thank you very much.
Of course, they always did make a good place to set the mood for a shady transaction, or if somebody really wanted to make it clear that they did not want to be disturbed and left well enough alone to their own devices. Fighting in an asteroid field just wasn't done. Asteroid fields, though a risky alternative to more well-known federal shipping lanes, were gateways of commerce. People did all sorts of business there from the slave trade all the way to the mundane shipments of toilet paper. Yes, some people honestly just can't live without that biodegradable stuff, irregardless of the century, and some folks actually opted to live out there in the middle of the "wilderness," in relative seclusion, so to speak.
Fighting outside an asteroid field, however, was all in good clean fun.
A flash of vibrant blue marked the Swordfish II's arrival into normal space, rapidly decelerating to such a degree where the ship's entire length appeared to elongate briefly before assuming its original form. She glided gracefully forward, aided by her primary aft sub-light engines that were illuminated by the white hot exhaust blazing out from each massive vectored nozzle, as the ring-like gravitic warp array folded snugly into the rear engine block. The Swordfish II would likely never win any awards for aesthetic beauty. Her utilitarian corvette-class hull was several centuries old to be honest marked by a smooth rectangular fuselage that began in an angular nose region at the fore section and ended in a conventional engine block in the aft section. In a way, it was like watching a "Classical" age skyscraper sailing through space, with a row of "windows" and other amenities dotting its sides at preset intervals, while she presented her staid colors of gunmetal grey.
She was pretty much totally unremarkable, easily forgettable, and exactly the way Maria liked it.
"We've arrived in the vicinity of Caribbean Field-Seven in Federation administrated space, sector Heifon-Three," Eight's voice announced over the speakers in a crisp professional delivery. It was certainly a big change from the A.I.'s "usual" gaiety enthusiasm. "No abnormalities detected in the Gravitic Warp Core. Diagnostics reports all systems green. Sensors detect no threats in the area. Querying the United Mundus Network now for the latest asteroid field navigation charts."
Seated comfortably in the navigator's seat beside the pilot's station, or perhaps more appropriately, the captain's station, Fayt could only stare in wonder at the perfect synergy between, well, woman and machine. He had been on his fair share of interstellar vessels and space worthy craft in his time, mostly civilian passenger liners, shuttles, and one military transport-class ship, but they all paled in comparison to the amazing interplay of efficiency between just Maria and Eight. Five minutes had been all that he needed to realize that the Swordfish II was no small wonder. Already the ship's A.I. had received the latest asteroid field navigation charts and was implementing the data accordingly with the flight path the captain had plotted into the navigation systems. They were to advance from their current position to the rendezvous point by creeping through the edges of the asteroid field, criss-crossing stealthily amongst the ancient rock to avoid undue attention.
"Keep the sensors on passive sweep on an interval of every ten seconds to minimize our signature; engines at twenty-five percent," the light blue-haired young woman finished, dismissing the array of holographic displays with a wave of her hand.
Eight happily obliged with a giggle, "Liiiiii-ght's out! 'Low Power' mode engaged."
The symphony of electronic beeps and chirps on the bridge promptly ebbed, giving way to the ambling hum of the ambient life support systems. Lights dimmed down to the bare necessities on the lit consoles, enveloping the bridge in the enthralling darkness that sparkled with countless stars through the massive all-encompassing panoramic monitors that composed the walls. If one didn't know any better, the Swordfish II's bridge was a magical breathtaking observatory at the local planetarium. All the while, a plethora of unessential systems were being shut down throughout the ship to minimize the amount of electronic "noise" it gave off. It was all a calculated tactical decision as the corvette waded carefully into the forbidding asteroid field with its gigantic occupants that could smash a destroyer-class to pieces in a single collision.
Fayt, on the other hand, was occupied with other things. Immediately, he felt the sudden weightless sensation in the pit of his stomach, followed by barely restrained nausea. The disorienting feeling caused by the nearly limitless view he had of the sea of stars wasn't helping either, and the young Earthling was forced to slam his eyes shut, clamping down on his arm rests with his bare hands. He concentrated as best as he could not to sick up and empty the contents of his stomach, while the restraints on his chair descended gradually.
"There, it's all up to her now," Maria murmured, settling easily back into a comfortable position as the restraints on her chair came down with a protective hiss. Idly, she brushed aside some of her billowing tresses to clear when she noticed Fayt's "predicament." Zero gravity sickness, though not an uncommon affliction, the symptoms were something she was intimately familiar with for good reasons.
She was about to advise him on an easy remedy, opening her mouth as to speak, when she promptly clamped her mouth shut with a frown. For perhaps the first time, the proud leader of Quark turned aside a blind eye, leaning back casually into seat. There was deep ugly wound festering in her heart, bubbling with sickness and hate. Little voices, imps and devils whispered and cackled mockingly in her ears. It was - irritating; oh, but not to worry, she fully intended to keep her promise. Let it be well-known that Maria Traydor never went back on her words...
Even to the worst of scum, dearest?
No, fuufuufuufuu, to the best of scum is more fitting, don't you think?
...It's nothing to be concerned about. He'll get over it soon enough, the young woman thought nonchalantly, sinking deeper into her melancholy brooding. Maybe... Maybe this is the Beginning...
The better part of the hour was spent very much so in ambient silence. With his preoccupation, Fayt could scarcely contemplate the meaning of this silence, as the Swordfish II crept through the shadows of the massive asteroids that dwarfed its size. Unawares of the ill storm clouds gathering at his own front door step, or more bluntly, just a couple of feet beside him, his recovery was marked then by a gradual shift in momentum. The ship had come to a full stop.
"We've arrived," Maria announced seemingly to no one in particular, and perhaps, out of simple habit. "Begin the countdown: T-minus five minutes. Mark."
On cue a holographic display appeared in the unobtrusively in the space between with a countdown timer ticking off the minutes, seconds, and milliseconds in short order. The corvette had come to a rest in the shadow of another gargantuan asteroid with a clear way to advance into free space at will, but they could just as easily slink back and retreat into the asteroid field.
Curious as to what her intentions were, Fayt turned his head about to ask and promptly shut his mouth when he felt the invasive wave of barely restrained apathy bite him in the face. He winced as if struck by a physical blow, knowing fully well now where he stood with the captain. Maria had come to terms, at least it appeared so, with recent events. Her actions when they had been hiking back from the village of Whipple on Vanguard III had spoken of mixed feelings, uncertainty.
She knows and she hates me all the more for it, the blue-haired young man thought in stark realization. I might as well have done myself a favor by telling Eight the truth before I made that - promise - and locked myself away in the brig, not that it's going to do me any good now. For all I know, this could've been what she had wanted all along, even if I hadn't done what I did. I - how am I supposed to talk to her like this? How are you supposed to talk to someone you just tried to murder, consciously or not, in their sleep? It just isn't done! I should be in a cell right now talking to a lawyer or something, not sitting here in the same room with the victim.
What will she say? What will she do? Those were but a few of the many unknowns that plagued his fearful heart. With any luck, Maria would do him a favor and just empty his brains across the panorama of space. She ought to have been a good enough shot to be able to pull that off. Alas, someone had to make the first move, and apparently, they would have to make do with the would-be murderer first.
"Maria?" Fayt whispered tentatively, shrinking away from the dark outline of the young woman's figure sitting in the captain's chair.
"Yes, Fayt?" she replied automatically, not attempting to make eye contact in the slightest. Her gaze was riveted elsewhere on the countdown timer's subdued orange numbers. Two minutes had already elapsed and still there was no sign of the Diplo. Cliff was running late as usual.
"How - why are we stopping?"
Nice work; you completely evaded the big question. Coward.
"This is the rendezvous point my client designated. The five minutes is the maximum safe window we have to make contact before we have to reschedule and meet at a different rendezvous point in approximately three days."
"Three days?"
"Yes, it's only prudent to assume something unexpected would've tied her up."
"Oh, so - why the five minutes?"
"A healthy paranoia comes with the territory, Fayt."
"'A healthy paranoia'?"
"Sub-contractors such as myself have a tendency, according to the old Earthling expression, 'to get the short end of the stick,' that is. We're viewed at times as perishable assets."
"Oh..." he paused, biting his lip in consternation, "...um, h-how long has it been?"
Maria would've replied had something else not interrupted first. A mild-mannered alarm went off as warning lights came online, bathing the bridge in a moody red. The ship had just gone into "DEFCON 3" thanks to an unidentified gravity distortion just one hundred "clicks" ahead of their position. Punctually, a magnified display panel of the unknown craft brushed aside the countdown timer to give the captain and her companion. It was alien design unlike anything they had ever seen before, and through quick deduction, it was fairly safe to say it was of Vendeeni origin.
"An unmanned reconnaissance probe capable of FTL travel, the Vendeeni are just full of surprises, aren't they?" the light blue-haired young woman mused, mildly impressed by this display of technological might and its tactical implications. "I didn't they would've already made it this far out since Hyda-Four. The Galactic Federation must be in worse shape than I estimated previously to have allowed their enemy to penetrate twenty sectors in from the frontlines, after just nine days of fighting. They must've lost at least thirty worlds to the Vendeeni, all burned to ashes if Hyda-Four Or could this be part of a stealthy assault force that had slipped its way past the front?"
Though glad for the timely distraction, Fayt was more horrified by the chilling objective analysis his companion was giving out aloud. How could she be so calm at a time like this? Steeling himself, he joined the fray with his own voice, springing to life once more with its familiar righteous altruism.
"That's not important right now. We have to warn somebody about what's happening here!"
"I'd have to agree. We stand to gain nothing by sitting here idly. That probe alone has already ruined our rendezvous with my client by its presence in the area."
"Is she on the way to meet us, along with uh, Cliffy and Misty M? Eight said something that you, well, we would be home soon."
"Did she now?"
"Yeah, isn't there something we can do to warn them?"
"I'm afraid not. There only three possible reasons the recon probe hasn't detected us yet: One, we're beyond its sensor range or not visible to its foreign sensor systems yet. Two, due to a lack of electronic noise we're giving off currently, our low power outputs, and the slight interference being generated by the Caribbean Field's asteroids, it has yet to consider us a threat. Three, the worst-case scenario, it already knows we're here and has sent back an encoded transmission back to the Vendeeni advance fleet."
They had a minute and thirty-five seconds left to act.
"We don't have a choice," Fayt spoke up first in grim resolution, "we'll have to fight them."
Maria simply nodded her agreement. She would've fought regardless of what reservations Leingod might've had against violence because the Diplo was in danger of waltzing right into an ambush. Cliff was certainly a good captain, but she intended to give him every single advantage he needed in the coming battle. Barking a series of commands in rapid succession, the Swordfish II quickly powered up to general quarters, picking up speed rapidly to combat velocities, as she raced out from cover to intercept her intended target.
"Eight, reconfigure the bridge for the tandem battle cockpit, and deploy our birthday suits. Fayt, the helm is yours, assist Eight as best as you can in maneuvering the ship, and don't hesitate to pull a few stunts, if you can manage. I'll be in the battle sphere behind you, providing assistance with weapons and sensors."
The blue-haired young man hardly had a chance to voice his protests before the bridge itself began to undergo a transformation. Maria's entire console station detached from his own, shifting back smoothly on the end of a mechanized crane arm, lifting it easily into the deep basin area behind the forward stations. A mesmerizing sphere of holographic panels and near incomprehensible data promptly materialized into the broad space with a beaming hum of energy.
Various numbers and other tactile information were rotating and refreshing quickly about the vibrant data sphere at blistering speeds, as such they were virtually gibberish to someone outside the sphere. Her chair rose upwards, levitating ethereally in mid-air above the basin-shaped data hub interface that pumped valuable data constantly into "battle sphere." How the captain was managing to process all this information at her fingertips without losing her mind was anyone's guess.
Fayt's own navigator station underwent its own change, parting about into easily accessible multi-function displays, as his seat shifted to the center position in front. He could feel his chair rising off the floor by the assistance of another crane arm, leaning backwards slightly for added comfort. Foot pedals, a "hand raker"-style throttle, and a control stick swung into place, adjusting automatically for his ease of use, like the whole setup had been custom-made for him.
Several more tactile holographic displays appeared as well to provide additional aid and basic control instructions. The foot pedals was for yaw control, the throttle controlled the engine thrust output, and the control stick dealt with the usual of pitch and roll. In a way, he felt an awful lot like a pilot in a star fighter, although he wondered why Maria hadn't left everything up to Eight. Surely, the ship's A.I. was well-versed in the art of war, so why bother?
"Deploying high-maneuver wings!" Outside on the ship's hull, a quartet of four extendable "wings," each bearing an articulated high-maneuver sub-light engine on the wing tips, were extending outwards from the fore and aft sections of the fuselage like wings. The engines pivoted up and down visibly in routine diagnostics before roaring ablaze to life, adding their great strength to the Swordfish II's glorious charge. "SAFE-TY kaishou! All weapons free. Conventional countermeasures loaded and ready. ECM at full power. Space-Time Displacement Shields at maximum output. Quantum torpedoes loaded and armed through vertical launch tubes Mark One to Twelve. All systems go!"
In a matter of seconds, the once humble, utilitarian corvette-class ship was bristling to the gills with weaponry as a plethora of concealed multi-directional phase cannon banks unfurled themselves all along the hull. Vertical launch tubes spread evenly through the ship bustled out from their armored housings. Meanwhile, six shielded turret housings unmasked themselves, distributed equally on the dorsal and ventral sections in delta, to reveal their dual-barreled high-caliber anti-matter cannons that could still put the hurt where it counted. It was a rather formidable arsenal that certainly put the "pea shooters" on a cutter-class to shame.
Needless to say, Fayt was astounded by the hardware. "Mari-?"
"That's Captain to you, helmsman!" Maria boomed curtly from within the vibrant sea of colors in the battle sphere. "Eight, assign target Bogey-One with Battery A. On my mark, I want a rifled burst, two salvos! Make them count."
"Uploading telemetry data now," the ship's A.I. responded, "range: fifteen kilometers and closing fast."
"Mark!" the light blue-haired young woman barked. An awesome roar echoed through the ship as the stars raced by at astonishing speeds. Twin crackling comets of red destruction sizzled ahead of them through dead space, followed several seconds later by the audible crack of thunder the follow up salvo from Battery A's anti-matter cannons. The deadly ordinance swiftly outpaced the Swordfish II's on the light-footed wings of death to meet its intended target.
"Estimated time to impact in three, two, one..."
A flashing explosion on the horizon marked the obliteration of one Vendeeni reconnaissance probe, certainly, but that was just the beginning of their troubles. Predictably, the electronic countermeasures had little or no effect on the probe's transmitting capabilities. Eight scarcely had a chance to confirm the destruction before the course of events began to snowball downhill rapidly. Already the sensors were detecting gravitic space anomaly right ahead of the...
"Helm, roll us to the right, wide, now!" Maria ordered snapping Fayt out of his silent awe.
Hurriedly, he snapped his control stick to the right and increased pressure on his right foot, throwing the Swordfish II into a wide evasive barrel roll. The ship was surprisingly agile, and maneuvered so much more like craft smaller than its considerable size, thanks to pivoting sub-light engines on its "wing tips," redirecting their aft thrust intuitively to aid in the maneuver. Even so, they narrowly avoided the juggernaut of a battleship by a scant few meters as it came screaming to stop, like a freight train, into normal space, sending an invisible spatial shockwave in its wake.
The space-time displacement shield's held taking the brunt of the disturbance that sent tremors rocking through the hull of the corvette. However, never one to waste an opportunity when she saw one, Quark's leader barked another command:
"All batteries fire at will! Helm, keep us rolling until I say so!"
No doubt a touch surprised that they had almost jumped right into the smaller corvette-class ship, the Vendeeni's mood soured faster than a sinking ship when the Swordfish II opened up with a savage barrage at close-quarters. Crackling bolts of crimson and scattering white particle beams raked the starboard flank of the battleship, setting off a firework's display of minor explosions and flashes as the Vendeeni shields weathered the multiple attacks. The smaller daredevil ship was flying straight by them in a crazed spinning motion, presenting its various batteries of cannons rapidly with each revolution.
By the time the Vendeeni could attempt to even return fire on the mad marionette, the faster corvette-class ship had cleared past its aft quarters, leaving severely weakened shields and a frenzied crew. The Swordfish II ceased its twist roll promptly and fired off a pair of parting kisses, two quantum torpedoes streaking through the starlit waters of space, straight into the battleship's exposed thruster laden rear. A violent explosion tore the alien vessel asunder into a hellish firestorm from its conventional engines detonating into a doomed chain reaction that set off the sensitive gravitic warp core.
"Vendeeni battle-class destroyed!" Eight cheered with a whoop as the corvette leveled off from its roll.
A certain blue-haired young man was panting audibly in his station. The Swordfish II was certainly no high-speed fighter, but the intense adrenaline rush of combat was still all the same. He could scarcely even believe that he had truly committed himself to this act of violence. "D-Did any life pods make it?"
His bizarre statement notably caught the notice of unseen eyes of ice behind the artificial veil of light and sound. She would say nothing, but there was undeniable surge of bittersweet scorn building in her gut, leaving to the ship's A.I. to break the news. The quantum torpedoes had done their job superbly, a stroke of good fortune leading to the cataclysmic explosion. No survivors; Fayt could do little more but seethe in remorse and pity.
She was learning to despise him, well enough.
"Gaou, we have company! Multiple gravitic space anomalies detected off the port side, counting five ships, approximate range: one thousand kilometers. ...They're deploying fighters!"
Great, the more the merrier, they say.
Author's Notes:
Woohoo, I've finally done it! Less angst, more fighting! I'd like to send a warm shout-out to the reviewers and readers alike for their comments and support, spiritually or otherwise. There's nothing more refreshing than you guys pointing out what I did right or especially what I did wrong, so keep sending them in! J-Easy's with you! As usual, I'd like to apologize if there's some grammatical, style, or some shiz-nit-hit-the-fan screw up along the way.
Oh, and few personal shout outs here before I go...
To Da Guv'nor Tristan Amaryllis: Thank you for throwing out the red card on me. I adore it when people can find where I screwed up. Yes, I admit my narrative tends to be awfully metaphorical and embellished when I start getting into people's heads. I have this running pet peeve, you see, where I have to be deadly certain that I put down a complete thought, that I didn't absently omit something important to a character's internal monologue. Unfortunately, since I have that kind of mentality, it lends onto pretty everything I do, even dialogue sadly. I'm still trying to get used to the fact that I don't always have to think in complete thoughts/sentences for the sake of narration.
Oh, and yes, if you do manage to figure out a way to murder me through the computer screen, give me a call some time in Purgatory if you happen to have a minute would you, please? I'd really love to hear how you pulled out it off; if you can do that, then there has to be a way we can mess with the heads of the Livin', you what I mean?
To the Guv'ness Ruine (or should I say Guv'nor as well? I beg your pardon, if I'm being too presumptuous): Woohoo, I'm on a roll! At the rate I'm going, I might just be able to rack up some more handy dandy yellow cards and red cards. Fayt's disturbing? Mwahahahahhahahahah! Ex-cellent! To be honest, I don't really mind if you find him a touch disturbing. He did go into a bit of a depression there (not to mention the "disturbances" I have inflicted so far on him), so it's to be expected. The way I understand it, Fayt was essentially raised to be a "good samaritan."
Yes, his Personal Action responses can at times make him come off as a manipulative person, a jerk, a righteous ninny, or a pragmatist, but generally, the kid's got a good head on his shoulders. Knowing that, how is he supposed to react when the grim reality that he just tried to murder somebody who cared about him without even a reason at all, just because he felt like it? The kid, I imagine, would be horrified to his toes as it goes against his principles to a T. So he beats up on himself, conveniently shutting out his reasonable side, as he "guilts" himself into oblivion. Thanks to Eight, however, the kid's gotta confront the monster in his closet and rebuild his trust with Maria once more.
As for Albel being "psychopathic." To be honest, I think he's more so of a sociopath misanthrope with a touch of megalomania. I'm uncertain of his back story, but I figure that unrealistic expectations, the weight of the world on his shoulders and all that pretty much turned him into a monster. Now, a real psycho per say, is Albedo from Xenosaga. U-DO messed up his mind good. I love him, I loathe him, and I adore him when he works his magic on-stage, blowing Kefka and lame-o Sephiroth clean out of the water.
On the subject of heavy angst: Man, I really do have a bit of a situation with angst, don't I? I really couldn't help it with the early chapters on Vanguard III. One thing kind of lead to another, and this being in AU territory, stuff...happens. It could be a side-effect of reading the whole thing in one sitting or an accumulation of everything, but I can assure you that there will be considerable reduction in angst. We're going to Elicoor II, we're having battles, action-sequences a plenty, Albel Nox, Nel Zelpher, Clair Lasbard, Welch Vineyard, and I can finally unraveling answers to some persistent questions!
Peace out, and look forward to the next chapter, guys! And you all better go watch Frank Miller's Sin City, or J-Easy will go Fan-Boy on your dog house!
P.S. Please don't kill me because of the totally blatant cliff hanger.
"Walk down the right back alley in Sin City, and you can find anything..."
Marv, Frank Miller's Sin City