Hey, y'all. I know that this fic hasn't always been the cheeriest, at times. I'm here to throw out a warning that this chapter, to me at least, has felt even less cheery than usual in places. There's some suicidal ideation. A little bit of self-neglect/self-harm that's not graphic or violent, but it's there. Our villain protagonist is having a bad time in this chapter. No Cyclonian is having a good time in this chapter. Honestly, nobody is really having the best time in this chapter. I just don't want you to not have a good time. So, if today has been a bad day for you mentally, and you're in no mood to deal with more negativity, maybe come back to this later? I leave it up to you and your own discretion. Love ya guys!
She came to slowly, blinking her eyes open and staring blankly up at the ceiling for what could have been a minute or an hour before her muddled brain issued her body a command. Get up. Her body stubbornly refused to listen. It took several minutes for her to muster up the energy to even wiggle her fingers and more still to finally sit up.
She had been lying on a metal shelf that jutted out from the wall. A thin sleeping pad that did little to cushion the makeshift bed was set atop the shelf, and a grey military issue blanket was folded at the foot of the bed. A metal toilet and sink comprised the only other items in the room. The room itself was a two-by-two-meter cell with a solid metal door with three slots cut into it at different levels. The top and middle slots were shuttered. The bottom one was open, and a tray had been pushed inside, holding a folded set of clothing: a medium blue jumpsuit, white t-shirt, and a pair of white, slip-on shoes.
So, this was the cell in the Stockade the Chairman had threatened her with if she attempted to escape. With a sigh, she rubbed her eyes, noticing as she did so that she was back to wearing a leecher cuff on both wrists. Was Piper sitting around mass-producing these things? The thought lacked any heat. She felt untethered from herself, insensible. That stunner grenade had really done a number on her. Dully, she changed into the jumpsuit, folding the clothes she had been wearing and placing them on the tray, pushing it back through the slot. She assumed that was what they wanted her to do.
She walked back to the shelf-bed and curled up on her side. Pulling the blanket up over her head to block out the overhead light, she quickly fell back asleep.
She awoke feeling stiff, sore, and with her mind now clear, angry. Flinging the blanket off, she got up and went to the door.
"Ace?" she yelled. Had he gotten away? It was stupid to think that he might have. The stunner grenade had been as close to him as to her when it went off. It had to have taken him down, too. He must be here, then, but there was no response. She hadn't really expected one. Their jailers wouldn't want them communicating.
She looked down at the tray that had been pushed back into her cell at some point while she slept. This time, it contained a plate of food and a plastic canteen. With no other outlet for her anger, she turned it on the tray, kicking it back through the slot and listening with satisfaction as it clattered across the floor.
The satisfaction was short-lived. If there were any guards out there, which there must be, they didn't react to her outburst. And after a while, it became clear that they were in no hurry to replace the tray. So, she paced. And paced. And paced. It had helped her calm down on that first morning after her capture. Maybe it would do so again. She didn't want to think. What was there to think about, anyway? Her failures? The future? Thinking about her failures only served to keep her angry. But thinking about the future was worse. Because when she thought about the future, fear began to creep in.
They had blown their one chance of escaping. True, she had told Ace at the garage that she hadn't expected to make it even that far. And she hadn't. But once they had, she had foolishly begun to hope. She had started to believe that they could make it off Atmosia. She should have known better. Reality was a crueller master than she had ever been.
And now she was going to die.
She didn't want to die.
But it was better than this. Better than being trapped in this cell. For years. For decades. It was better, wasn't it? She wasn't so sure anymore. She was starting to think they might be equally bad. She was turning fifteen next month, and she shivered as a chill went through her at the thought that she might not live that long. How quickly did Atmosia mete out justice once sentencing had been decided? And how would it be done? Hanging was easy. Popular. But it was also a commoner's death. The Chairman had proven himself a stickler for tradition. Maybe a beheading, then. Certainly, it would be one or the other. Atmosia liked being the 'good guys'; they wouldn't gravitate toward more drawn-out forms of execution. Not that that was any guarantee of a clean death. Both hangings and beheadings could be botched, either accidentally or on purpose. Was the executioner employed by the Stockade? They had killed four Stockade guards….
She rubbed her neck, suddenly very cold. The pacing wasn't working. Moving back to the bed, she wrapped the blanket around herself and sat. Legs crossed, hands resting palm up on her knees, she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Hopefully, if pacing wouldn't stop these thoughts, meditation would.
She quickly lost track of time. There were no windows, and the light in the cell was never turned off or even dimmed, so she never knew if it was night or day out. The food she was given was always some variation of a sandwich, whole piece of fruit, and water, allowing for no distinction between breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Assuming she was getting three meals a day. It was likely two, judging by the lack of satiety she felt most of the time now. No one spoke to her. She tried asking questions of the guards the first few times they'd pushed the meal tray through the slot on the ground but received no answer. And she hadn't been let out to shower the entire time she'd been locked in the cell. Her grandmother, ever the fastidious woman, had demanded a high level of attention be paid to personal hygiene, especially once she hit double digits. However long it had been since her last shower, it was the longest she'd ever gone without, and she felt gross.
They were obviously trying to get to her. The thought that the guards were out there just waiting for her to have a breakdown made her want to do everything in her power to not give them the satisfaction. So, she had stopped trying to talk to the guards. She slept when she could, meditated as often as she could stand to, and spent a lot of time pacing around the cell while mentally reciting as many facts about crystals as she could: name, function, chemical formulae, structure, thermal properties, mechanical properties, modulus of elasticity, conductivity, refraction index, and more. But she could only do that for so long before intrusive thoughts clawed their way back to the forefront of her mind. Had the tribunal members come to a decision about sentencing yet? Had her fate already been sealed, and she didn't even know it? And how long did they plan to keep her in solitary? A week? A month? Until she cracked? Maybe that was their grand plan. To break her before they executed her. Whenever these thoughts arose, she pivoted to some truly mindless activity to drown them out, like counting the rivets in the walls and door.
Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight…
End it.
She froze, losing count, before shaking her head at that unbidden thought.
Why not? They're going to do it, anyway. Take control of your life.
Hmm.
Her gaze fell upon the blanket, and a simple plan began to form. Sitting on the bed, she picked up the blanket and began tearing off a strip. Or tried, at least. It was a sturdy blanket, and getting it started wasn't easy. She let her eyes wander around the room as she worked, looking for any place she could tie off a makeshift noose or a jagged bit of metal she could use to help cut up the blanket. She became so focused on the search that she stopped paying much attention to what she was doing. With one particularly hard yank to the corner of the blanket, she lost her grip on the fabric and sent her elbow smashing into the wall behind her.
The accompanying jolt of pain snapped her out of whatever the hell had gotten into her. Wincing, she rubbed her elbow.
What was she thinking?
If the Free Atmos wanted her dead, they would have to get their holier-than-thou little hands dirty and do it themselves. Besides, she wasn't going to give them an opening to paint her as a coward after she was gone. She would face death with dignity, as befitted a Cyclonis.
She felt momentarily empowered by that thought, but it didn't last long. Wrapping herself up in the blanket, she went back to counting rivets to distract herself from the grim knowledge that whatever fate awaited her was going to suck.
Time really had lost all meaning.
Huddled on the bed, wrapped in her blanket, she chewed on a fingernail as she stared despondently at the door.
She was tired. Mentally tired. She was tired of counting rivets, of quizzing herself on crystal lore and science, and especially of thinking about the future or what was going on beyond these four walls.
And she was tired of being alone. She'd never considered herself particularly sociable. Had never minded solitude. In fact, she preferred it a lot of the time. Especially when she was working on a project. People were a distraction she didn't like dealing with when focused on her work. They were an irritation. But this? This was…this was beginning to border on intolerable.
The cover to the top slot slid open, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when the first voice she had heard in what felt like ages spoke.
"Get up," an unfamiliar woman ordered curtly. "Get over here."
She hesitated to comply, wary of what would happen when she did. Was this it? Was it time for her sentencing? She felt rooted to the spot at the thought, despite her earlier (Days earlier? Weeks earlier?) conviction that she would face her fate with her head high.
"Now!"
She shook her head, staying where she was. Her response didn't go over well. "If we have to extract you from your cell, you will regret it."
She drew her blanket around herself tighter, glowering at the pair of brown eyes that glared right back at her through the slot in the door. "Alright. Have it your way," the woman said before her attention was drawn to someone or something next to her.
There was a moment of hushed back and forth before the woman stepped aside, and a new set of eyes took her place. "It's Officer Martin," he introduced himself. "Remember me?"
She twitched her eyebrows in acknowledgment. He had been one of the regulars assigned to her guard detail while she was being held in the other building.
"Captain Swift wants to see you in his office," Martin said. She frowned apprehensively, uncertain about how that conversation was going to go. "But first, we're taking you to get cleaned up."
She relaxed a little at that, only then realizing how tense she had been. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. What's with the paranoia? Have we ever lied to you?"
As far as she was aware, they had not. Standing, she slowly approached the door. As she did, she could hear the woman say something but only caught the word 'coddling' before Martin shushed her.
The middle slot opened. "Now turn around," Martin ordered. "Put your hands behind your back, then step back and put your hands through the opening."
She did as he instructed, and a pair of handcuffs were fastened around her wrists.
"Take a step forward," he told her.
The door creaked open, and she was grabbed by the back of the collar and yanked out of the cell by the woman, who seemed eager to reassert control over the interaction. She glared at her as she released her collar to roughly grip her shoulder, but the woman was unfazed by her irritation. Glancing down at her badge, she learned the name of her new least favourite guard. Officer B. Carmine. Martin put a hand on her other shoulder, and they began to lead her down the hall.
"How long was I-'
"You weren't given permission to speak!" she was interrupted. Officer Carmine was on quite the power trip. She was tempted to tell her as much. Maybe even speculate on what the 'B' stood for. But that would be vulgar, and she had been raised better than that, so she held her tongue. Besides, she didn't want to give them a reason to turn around and toss her right back into the cell she had just left.
They stopped at a door at the end of the hall that looked just like all the others. A supply cupboard was set against the wall just outside this new room. Martin started rummaging through it while Carmine opened the door. The room was divided in half by a plastic curtain. The half closest to the door had a bench and a clothes hamper. The back half was a single shower. Martin set a change of clothes from the supply cupboard on the bench, along with a towel, washcloth, small bar of soap, and comb.
"You have ten minutes," he said.
Carmine pushed her through the door, closing and locking it behind her. The middle slot opened, and she was ordered to put her hands through it to be uncuffed. Once free, she wasted no time. Turning on the water, she disposed of her clothes in the hamper before testing the temperature of the water. She expected it to be lukewarm at best, but it was hot. She could have cried. What had her life come to that she was this excited over a hot shower?
She spent what she judged to be half the time she was allotted in the shower. Washing her hair with bar soap wasn't what she was used to, but she wasn't going to complain. She felt much less disgusting after five minutes of vigorous scrubbing. As she dried off and got dressed, she tried not to dwell on how little the shower had managed to lift her mood. She felt better physically, but….
What happened now? Why did Captain Swift want to speak with her? And what came after that? Would she be returned to that solitary cell? Maybe this was all part of her punishment. Give her a small taste of human interaction, then toss her back in the cell to start the cycle anew. Would the brief reprieve act as a bolster, making the next round more bearable? Or would it make returning to that crushing silence and solitude more painful? She suspected she already knew the answer to that question.
The slots opened just as she finished combing her hair, and Officer Carmine peered inside. "Done?"
She nodded and put her hands behind her back, offering them to be cuffed before she could be commanded to do so. Perhaps cooperation could earn some clemency.
She was escorted down a series of halls, passing through several locked doors and down one flight of stairs until they entered a section of the building that looked like it was used for administration. There were small windows in this sector of the prison, enough to see that it was rainy outside and daytime, though it was difficult to tell when given how overcast it was. A cluster of offices stood at the end of the final hallway she was led down. Each door was labelled with a name and title. On the left: A. Canso, Deputy Warden of Administration. In the center: C. Cormorant, Warden. On the right: E. Swift, Deputy Warden of Custody.
Martin knocked on the door. Despite not receiving any response, he opened the door, revealing an empty office. They led her to a metal chair in front of the desk, uncuffing one wrist before shoving her onto it and closing the cuff around the arm of the chair.
"He'll be back soon. Don't touch anything," Martin said, and both guards went to stand in the hall, leaving the door open. The first thing she did was try to move the chair and discover that it was bolted to the ground. The second thing she did was sweep her gaze across the desk, looking for anything that might be useful to her. But the desk was spartanly furnished; anything that could be used as a weapon or a lockpick was kept out of sight and out of reach. Not that anything she might have found would help her much here, but she felt compelled to check.
The only thing of note that Captain Swift kept on his desktop was a picture frame. She preferred to use memory crystals to store photographs. It was more private and more efficient, though there were only a few photos that she truly cared about. One of her and her grandmother that was taken shortly after her father's death. One of her and her father, taken less than a year before the first one. She didn't much care for herself in that one. He was carrying her on his shoulders, and she had one of those big, cheesy little kid grins plastered on her face that made her look ridiculous. But it was a good picture of him. There was one of her parents on their wedding day. One of her father, when he was only a few years older than she was now, sitting sideways on his Switchblade Elite, arms crossed and smirking. And finally, one of her grandmother on her coronation day. They were all on the memory crystal that she had gone to so much trouble to restore, now lost to the Wastelands with the rest of Cyclonia.
With an inward sigh, she pushed the thought of those lost pictures from her mind. Turning the frame around to see Swift's most treasured photo, she was unsurprised to see that it was a picture of his family. It looked like it had been taken in a park. A willowy woman with long brown hair stood smiling with her arm around the shoulders of a 12-year-old boy who was mean-mugging the camera. Twin girls a few years younger than the boy were in the foreground, one smiling for the picture while the other had grabbed her sister's hand and was trying to pull her forward, more interested in continuing their walk than having her picture taken. The photo had captured the lead twin mid-sentence as she said something to the cameraman, who she presumed was Swift. All three kids had inherited their father's ash-blond hair and blue eyes. The photo had a lot of personality, and she could see why Swift preferred it over a more successfully staged family portrait.
She heard Swift walk in, and she turned the frame back around, sitting back. He took a seat behind his desk and looked at her silently for a long moment before reaching out and adjusting the frame's position on his desk. "A good rule of thumb for avoiding trouble in prison is keeping your hands off of things that don't belong to you," he advised her.
She didn't want to get into another fight with him, so she didn't comment on the usefulness of his advice. If he still believed that there was any chance of her receiving a sentence short of death, he was hopelessly naïve. And she certainly wasn't going to apologize for the high crime of looking at a photograph that he kept on open display. So, she kept her mouth shut.
Her silence seemed to throw him off.
"I thought you'd have a million questions for me," he said.
Officer Carmine's earlier words sprang unbidden to mind, and she responded without thinking. "I wasn't given permission to speak," she said cynically.
He glanced knowingly toward the guards in the hall before returning his attention to her.
"That's never stopped you before," he said, his tone light. But she wasn't fooled. Whatever fragile amity that had built between them, she had razed to the ground in one day. She didn't understand why he was still bothering to be friendly.
"Just stop," she said wearily.
"Stop what?"
"Stop pretending that you don't despise me just as much as everyone else on Atmosia does."
"I don't hate you. I-don't roll your eyes at me, and don't assume you know what I'm thinking. You're not psychic."
She sighed. Arguing really did feel like too much trouble right now. Not to mention a distraction from what really mattered. "You're right; I'm not. So why don't you tell me what this meeting is about."
"For one, it's to let you know that you're being moved from isolation to administrative segregation once medical clears you."
She wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded like a slight improvement. "What about the Dark Ace?"
"He has seven more days in isolation before he's moved."
"Why? The escape was my idea," she said, frowning.
"Well, I appreciate the honesty, but that doesn't change anything. Per our protocol, adults can be kept in isolation for fourteen days. Juveniles prosecuted and convicted as adults up to seven. You both earned yourselves the maximum allotted time with that stunt of yours, regardless of whose idea it was."
"That was seven days?" she marvelled.
"Felt longer, didn't it? Consider yourself lucky. There was talk of treating the escape attempt and all four deaths as separate offences and having you both serve five consecutive stints in isolation. But it was decided that, even with a one-day break in between, that would violate the spirit of the rule. Should you prove to have not learned from this experience and attempt to escape again, we will be revisiting that decision, and I doubt things will work out in your favour a second time."
An involuntary shiver went through her at his words. She agreed with his assessment that she had lucked out for the first time. Her reaction didn't go unnoticed by Captain Swift, who seemed satisfied with making his point.
"The second reason for this meeting is to inform you that your sentencing hearing is tomorrow morning."
She felt the blood drain from her face at that news. Not only was the sentencing the next day, but she would be facing the tribunal alone. She and Ace had gone through the entire trial together, and it had been invaluable to her morale having him by her side.
Captain Swift was talking again, but she couldn't focus on what he said. It wasn't important. After tomorrow morning, her life was over. Nothing he said mattered at all anymore. She stared down at her hands as he spoke, picking at one of her ruined fingernails. She hadn't realized how badly she had chewed them up while in isolation. They were a mess. She had taken to biting her nails shortly after her father's passing. She barely remembered having that habit, as it hadn't been allowed to continue for long. After realizing that reprimanding her and taking toys away never stopped her for more than a day or two, her grandmother had finally broken her of it with the application of bitter black lacquer. She hadn't liked the taste, but she had liked the look, so she had kept painting her nails with it. But it had chipped and peeled away throughout her captivity here, paving the way for the old habit to resurface this week. It was shameful. She curled her hands into fists, hiding them from her own sight.
She realized that Captain Swift had stopped talking. She wasn't sure how long he had been silent, but his brow was furrowed when she looked back up at him, so she guessed it had been too long to pretend that she had been paying attention. Her suspicions were confirmed when he asked, "You weren't listening to a word I just said, were you?"
"No."
He sighed. "Alright. I'm taking you to medical, myself."
He retrieved the key from Martin, uncuffing her from the chair before cuffing her hands and leading her to the infirmary. One side of the infirmary was lined with cots, while the other side was divided into rooms with large windows cut into the doors. A prominent medic's station was situated in the center. Captain Swift walked her to the back cot, sat her down, and cuffed her to the railing, leaving her to watch him as he approached the medic station. There were two medics at the station, a young man and Lory. Swift spoke to them both, and after a minute or two, the young man headed her way while Swift stayed behind to converse more with Lory.
"My name's Digby," the young medic introduced himself. "I'm just going to check your vitals real quick."
She gave a short nod of acknowledgement, keeping an eye on Captain Swift and Lory as Digby went about his task. They had a conspiratorial look about them that made her suspicious. Once Digby was done, he returned to the desk and gave his report to the other two, and Lory walked over shortly after.
"What were you two talking about?" she demanded.
"Good evening. I'm well, thank you. How are you?" Lory replied pointedly.
"Never better."
"Really? Because the testiness and the elevated blood pressure would suggest otherwise."
"I'm fine. Just clear me to go to wherever I'm going."
"Not so fast. I have a few questions to ask you first," Lory said, taking her by the wrist and looking down at her watch.
"Digby already took my pulse."
"I know. I'm retaking it. I understand you had a rough week."
"Not really," she shrugged.
Lory glanced up at her, then back down at her watch. "Isolation is never an easy time, even for the toughest of people. You sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Did you experience any hallucinations?"
"No."
"Any intrusive thoughts?"
"No," she lied. Lory didn't need to know about that moment of weakness. Nothing had happened.
"Really? No thoughts of harming yourself or others?" Lory pressed.
"No."
Lory was silent for a moment before continuing.
"Captain Swift mentioned that the sentencing is tomorrow."
"It's about time."
"You're not worried?"
"No. I already know what they're going to say. This is just a formality."
"Do you downplay all your feelings? Or just the negative ones?"
"I'm not downplaying anything."
"Then why did your pulse jump when I asked about intrusive thoughts and the sentencing?"
"You're a human lie detector test, now?" she frowned, feeling a stab of annoyance.
"It's one of my many talents," Lory smiled before growing serious once more. "Are you still having intrusive thoughts?"
"No," she said, and Lory nodded, dropping her wrist after a moment.
"Good. I still want to keep you here overnight, under observation, as a precaution."
"That's ridiculous."
"You're welcome to think so, but I'm not changing my mind. And don't think you can convince Captain Swift to override my decision, either. He characterized your demeanour in his office as, and I quote, 'Bleak, even by her standards.'"
She scoffed. Bit dramatic, if you asked her.
"Speaking of Captain Swift, I heard all about your infamous prison break last week."
"I'm sure you did," she said, lip curling. "No doubt you-"
"Quiet," Lory ordered. She didn't raise her voice or speak particularly sharply, but her tone brooked no disobedience. "I heard," Lory continued, once it was clear that she wasn't going to challenge her command for silence, "that you had the opportunity to seriously hurt the captain but didn't take it."
She shrugged. Was there a point to this?
"It's possible that you knew that you wouldn't evade capture by then. Captain Swift is a well-liked, well-respected man. I'm sure you've noticed that. If anything happened to him, there's no shortage of staff or even inmates here at the Stockade who would make sure that the days of the person responsible were numbered."
She laughed bitterly. "My days are already numbered."
Lory clicked her tongue. "Yes, I thought you probably still felt that way. So, if it wasn't fear of reprisal that motivated you that night, there's really only one other explanation."
"And that is?"
"That there may actually be hope for you, yet. If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll be right back."
She stared after Lory as she returned to the medic station and exchanged a few words with Captain Swift before searching through drawers. Finding what she was looking for, she returned and handed her an emery board. "I didn't need to be taking your pulse to know that you were lying about it not being a rough week. Do what you can with that while I give my report to the captain. I'll want it back when you're done."
Again, Lory returned to the desk to talk with Captain Swift. Looking down at her hands, she began smoothing out the ragged edges of her nails with the board. She'd look up every now and then to glance at the two of them and found Lory watching her every time she did so. When she was done, Lory quickly returned to the cot, Captain Swift in tow. Lory held out a hand, and she handed her back the nail file.
"Looks like you're staying with Lory and Digby tonight," Captain Swift said, uncuffing her from the cot. He walked her over to one of the cells on the other side of the infirmary, stopping just outside it and ordered, "Shoes and socks off." She sighed heavily but complied, and he opened the cell door and waved her through. Stepping into the cell, she stopped short just inside the door. The room was completely empty save for a bare mattress on the floor. There was no pillow. No blanket. Nothing. The floor and the walls were smooth and padded.
"This is excessive," she complained. "I'm not going to do anything!"
"That's the idea," Captain Swift said agreeably. "I'll be back tomorrow morning to take you to your hearing." He moved to close the door but hesitated. "Lory can give you something to help you sleep tonight if you want."
She shook her head.
"Are you going to be able to sleep on your own?"
"Probably not."
"Try."
And with that, he closed and locked the door.
As Atmosia's Sky Knight squadron, the Storm Hawks were the only ones besides the tribunal members and the guards who were allowed into the Hall for the sentencing hearing of Cyclonis and the Dark Ace.
Well, hearings now. Plural, Piper reminded herself. The tribunal had reached an agreement on sentencing the day before last, but had to wait for the Cyclonians to be released from solitary before the hearings could occur. Piper thought it made more sense to wait until the Dark Ace was available and sentence them together, but the public was impatient. They wanted closure. The Council had decided that announcing Cyclonis' sentence sooner rather than later would give them that. After all, the Dark Ace was a terror to the squadrons who had to face him in battle. But Master Cyclonis was a name that every citizen of the Free Atmos had feared going back generations.
Cyclonis sat at her usual spot at the defence table, waiting for the tribunal to arrive. She looked pale, even more than usual, her expression drawn. Gone was the dark makeup and the imposing outfit with its spiked collar. Instead, she wore a blue jumpsuit with 'Property of the Stockade' in steel grey lettering on the back. Piper suspected that she had been brought to court like this as a punishment, to humiliate her. Piper didn't think it had the intended effect. Cyclonis seemed far too preoccupied with whatever was going on inside her own head to be worried about what she was wearing, and Piper thought it only managed to make her look more human and sympathetic. She looked so small and young and scared. Against all reason, Piper felt kinda sorry for her.
Then the tribunal filed in, and Cyclonis' whole demeanour shifted. She was still far too pale. She couldn't hide that. But her posture straightened, and her jaw tightened, and her gaze turned hard and cold. She locked onto Chairman Tern as he sat, holding aggressive eye contact with him as everyone settled.
"She's a pretty good actor," Aerrow whispered to her.
She hummed in agreement, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. Her stomach churned in anticipation, which was ridiculous. The sentencing didn't affect her life, but she felt as nervous as Cyclonis had looked just moments ago.
"This is your last chance, Cyclonis," Chairman Tern began. "If you've had any eleventh-hour epiphanies, developed any regrets that don't involve wishing you had committed even more atrocities, anything that might convince us to grant you some small measure of mercy, tell us now."
Piper gripped Aerrow's hand tighter. What did that mean? Neither Starling nor Suzy Lu had told them what the tribunal had decided. Their silence had made her nervous, and Chairman Tern's words made her even more worried now.
"I have nothing to say that hasn't already been said," Cyclonis answered, her voice calm and steady.
"Defiant 'til the end. Very well," Chairman Tern said and beckoned the rest of the tribunal members closer so that they could take a moment to confer. Suddenly, Piper understood why they hadn't been told the sentence. They had likely come up with two options and would choose one based on how Cyclonis answered the Chairman's question.
The tribunal members broke apart, and Chairman Tern addressed Cyclonis once more. "Stand."
Cyclonis stood, her face grim.
"You have been found guilty of fourteen crimes against humanity, eleven of which caused damage that no amount of reparations could ever hope to fully repair. All we can do is ensure that you can never repeat those crimes. To that end, this tribunal deems it appropriate that you serve eleven consecutive life sentences. Per our laws, you may apply for parole after serving fifteen years per sentence, making you eligible for release in 165 years."
Cyclonis looked like she had been punched in the gut, shaking her head in denial as the Chairman spoke.
"Whoa, I was just joking about a thousand years in the pokey. I didn't think they could actually send her to jail for that long," Finn whispered for their ears only.
"I'm confused. I thought humans only live for a hundred years, tops," Junko said, scratching his head.
"They do," Stork confirmed. "That's the point. They don't want her ever getting out."
"Oh."
The Chairman continued. "You will remain in custody at the Stockade until it becomes feasible to transfer you to Zartacla, where you will serve the remainder of your sentence."
Piper frowned. That was the next thing they were going to have to deal with. Ravess had stirred up a full-blown insurrection against the interim government Atmosia had established on the remaining Cyclonian terras. She now had complete control of both Nimbus and Bluster and had established a foothold on several other terras. Snipe had resurfaced, as well, and was working with his sister. He had proven himself to be surprisingly adept at irregular warfare.
Zartacla, which was being overhauled to increase capacity and security and was set to begin accepting low and medium security level prisoners the following week, was considered entirely unusable until the rebellion was put down. The terra would be a prime target if they started sending their Cyclonian prisoners there. They'd just be handing Ravess a fresh crop of insurgents to work with.
The Council had attempted to set up peace talks twice. Ravess had not only refused to hear them out but had also redoubled her efforts against the interim government each time. The Council decided they were done trying to negotiate after that and tasked the Sky Knights with planning a quick and decisive offensive that would cripple Ravess' rebellion before things could get completely out of hand. They were almost ready to move forward with their campaign.
Her attention was drawn back to Cyclonis, who had recovered from her shock enough to ask, "What was the merciful option?" Her voice was tight like she was only just holding it together.
"That's irrelevant now," the Chairman deflected.
"Tell me," Cyclonis demanded. The tension radiating off of her was palpable.
"If you must know," Harrier spoke up, as perceptive as a brick wall, "had you swallowed your pride and admitted that you were wrong, we would have offered you a quick, clean, and honourable death. Which is more than you deserve, if you ask-ow!"
Starling cut him off with a slap to the back of the head, but the damage was done. Cyclonis came unglued. She looked like she wanted to launch herself across the table, but Captain Swift, who had been standing just over her shoulder the entire time, grabbed her and got her into a hammerlock the moment she moved.
So she attacked the tribunal with her words instead.
"You will regret this!" she yelled at them. "I will make you all regret this! I escaped once; I will do it again! I will retake my rightful place at the head of my empire! The army I raise will blot out the sky! We will burn all of your terras to the ground, and I will make you watch as my Talons slaughter every man, woman, and child left! We'll start with Terra Rex, you pretentious-"
She cut off with a yelp of pain as Captain Swift increased the pressure on her shoulder and bent her over the table, snapping at the nearest of the two guards to cuff her as he maintained the joint lock. It didn't shut her up for long, and she continued to yell threats until her voice became more tearful, her words less coherent, and she broke down completely.
Piper looked away, her face growing hot with vicarious embarrassment. She knew Cyclonis well enough to know that this moment would eat at her later. She'd put so much effort into keeping up as unruffled a facade as possible throughout this whole affair, only to have it crash down around her at the last minute. In her place, Piper would wish for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
"Are we done here, Chairman?" Captain Swift asked.
"Yes, we're done," the Chairman said, and Piper looked back up in time to see Captain Swift pull Cyclonis upright and lead her crying from the room. The guards followed.
The silence they left in their wake was deafening.
Slowly, the Chairman, Starling, and Azar turned disapproving frowns on Harrier. "I was trying to avoid a scene," the Chairman reminded him. "What were you thinking?"
Harrier crossed his arms and lifted his chin. "She asked a question. I answered it."
"You shouldn't have."
"She shouldn't have asked if she couldn't react to the answer like a mature adult."
"She's not an adult," Starling said. "And what you did was needlessly cruel."
"Oh, I'm the cruel one now? Did you not hear what the little monster said to us?"
"Don't try to deflect. Yes, you were cruel. You deliberately misrepresented the facts," Starling argued.
"I did no such thing!"
"Bollocks! There was no merciful option! The entire point of that exercise was to confirm whether Piper's theory was correct or not."
"Which it was! Ergo, execution was the more merciful option in her eyes. I didn't lie."
"That is beside the point. We were always going to go with the opposite of what she wanted. To lead her to believe otherwise was just spiteful."
"That wasn't my intent, but if that's how it came across, so be it. She got a dose of her own medicine, I say."
Suzy Lu plucked a pack of gum from her pocket and popped two sticks into her mouth. "This argument's pointless. Girly was gonna pitch a fit whether we gave her an answer or not. She tried to bamboozle us, and it didn't work. Course she was upset."
"Still, can you imagine how that would have played to a packed court? After what happened at the verdict reading?" Brimir asked. "It would have been pandemonium."
"We already know that we'll get backlash for our decision," Starling agreed. "It would have been a hundred times worse if other people had witnessed her rant."
"But they did not," Azar said placatingly. "So let us not fight amongst ourselves. It benefits no one."
Suzy Lu shrugged, unconcerned. "Even if it had been an open court, anyone with half a brain could see that she was just blowing off steam. And if anyone starts a kerfuffle over the sentencing-"
"Most people can manage that without threatening mass murder," Harrier sniffed.
Suzy Lu's ears twitched in irritation at being talked over. "Harrier, didja not just hear what I said about brains?"
Aerrow leaned closer to her and the others and whispered, "Let's get out of here."
They had been sitting there, wide-eyed, awkwardly watching the tribunal bicker. When Aerrow spoke, none of them had to be told twice. They stood, grateful for the out, making a beeline for the door and straight out of the building.
Once out into the sunlight and fresh air, she sighed, looking down at the ground and scuffing the dirt with the toe of her boot. That whole thing had been a mess. A part of her wished she had just minded her own business. She had only ever meant to do the right thing, not cause problems. But now, people were at each other's throats, and it would only get worse when the news went public.
Maybe the tribunal was wrong, and it would have been better if people had witnessed Cyclonis' reaction, because it had been bad. Really bad. Nobody could have watched that and not realized how devastating a blow this had been to her. She had seen how Cyclonis responded to setbacks and failures before. They'd been the cause of most of them, after all. But she'd never, not once, seen her cry.
She thought she'd feel satisfaction when this was over, like justice had been served. She thought that she'd feel content in the knowledge that good had triumphed over evil, that some sort of invisible cosmic scales had been balanced. But she didn't feel any of that. She just felt sick.
She wondered how Cyclonis would have felt if the roles were reversed. If she had succeeded in defeating them and conquering all of Atmos, would she have felt the sense of accomplishment she'd so desperately been chasing? Would she have felt vindication for the wrongs she thought had been committed against Cyclonia when the Free Atmos declared its independence? Or would she have ended up feeling empty and unfulfilled? When looking upon the culmination of all her efforts, would she have felt sick, too?
She thought she knew the answer to that and had known since the day they first met, but she was glad that they'd never find out.
It was Junko, finally, who broke the silence.
"I didn't like that."
"I thought it was a great way to start the day," Stork said.
"Man, you're nuts!" Finn said. "I haven't felt that stressed out since we all almost got sucked into that giant crystal prison."
"But who was the most stressed-out person in that room this morning? Not us! And any day that you're not the most stressed-out person you know is a good day," Stork insisted.
Finn tilted his head, thinking that over. "Huh."
"You okay, Piper?" Aerrow asked, looking at her with concern.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Everyone's upset, and I feel like it's all my fault."
"It's not your fault," Aerrow told her.
At the same time, Finn said, "It kinda is your fault."
Aerrow elbowed Finn in the ribs. "Oww! What was that for?" Finn whined. "It was her plan, is all I'm saying!"
"Finn," Aerrow said through clenched teeth, looking pointedly at her and then back to him. Finn looked at her, and she must have looked about as miserable as she felt because he grinned sheepishly and gave her two thumbs up.
"I mean, congratulations on one of your plans working for once, Piper!"
"Excuse me? My plans work just fine when people bother following them!"
"Pfft, okay, in your head, maybe."
She rolled her eyes at his lack of subtlety in trying to cheer her up. "Nice try, Finn."
"Okay, listen. We all thought it was a good idea. You, me, Aerrow, Starling, Suzy Lu, Azar…."
"I didn't," Stork said.
"Everyone but Stork thought it was a good idea."
"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say Cyclonis isn't a fan, either."
"Dude, alright! Everyone but the two doomiest and gloomiest people we know thought it was a good idea!" Finn said, side-eyeing Stork as if daring him to interrupt again.
Stork just stared back at him with a look of mild innocence. Piper felt the corners of her mouth twitch up at their little double act.
"Even the Chairman went along with it, and he always looks at Cyclonis like she personally spits in his cornflakes every morning. So, like, anyone who's mad about this can just suck it up. That's their problem, not yours," Finn finished with a shrug.
Piper smiled at him gratefully. While she didn't feel much better than before, it was a start.
It had been three days since the sentencing hearing, and Swift was running out of options for dealing with Cyclonis.
He had dragged her straight to the infirmary after the hearing, tossing her back into the observation cell and ordering his staff to keep her under 24-hour supervision. She had raged off and on for hours, which he allowed since she couldn't do much damage there, and he hoped that she would wear herself out. Her anger had eventually died down, giving way to quiet despair that was, he discovered, worse.
She stayed huddled in one corner of the cell most of the time. She refused to speak. She refused to eat or drink. She hadn't even slept. He had requested her cooperation nicely. He had demanded it not-so-nicely. He had tried bribing her with junk food, to no avail, and with time out in the yard, which she had shown even less interest in. He'd offered her her radio back in exchange for her promise to eat one meal a day, telling her that she was missing some of Gwen Peck's best material. He had listened to her latest show, and she was having a field day between the announcement of Cyclonis' sentence and the current events in Cyclonia. He found the episode to be absolutely vile from start to finish. Cyclonis would have probably loved it. That offer had sparked a brief look of interest, but it faded quickly, and she had stubbornly shaken her head. He had even tried bribing her with the Dark Ace's early release from isolation. That, too, was a no-go. The situation, and her health, was deteriorating.
She left him no other choice.
"You're going to eat your dinner, or I will have to force you," he said, setting the tray down on the mattress. He held up a device small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. It was a metal cylinder with a button on the side that triggered the hypno crystal it was armed with.
She made no move to comply.
He gave her one last chance. "Come on. You don't really want your free will taken from you, do you?"
"Why not?" she challenged him. "You've taken everything else."
With a sigh, he pressed the button.
The following day, after she had woken up from the full night's sleep he had compelled her to get after dinner, he greeted her with a breakfast tray. Setting it down next to her, he asked, "What will it be today? The easy way or the hard way?"
She looked at him with such burning resentment that he felt like he should have turned to ash on the spot. But she ate.
They split their forces to attack Bluster and Nimbus simultaneously. They couldn't get reliable intel on which terra Ravess was on at the time, so they had had no choice but to attack both lest they choose the wrong one and allow Ravess to slip away from them.
The fighting was brutal, the assault on Ravess' strongholds dragging on for hours. The Cyclonians, faced with the novelty of being the defenders for once, fought twice as fiercely as before. They made the forces of the Free Atmos sweat and bleed for every inch of ground gained. But they gained ground, slowly at first, but eventually, the tide turned decisively in their favour.
It was that shift that finally flushed Ravess out into the open. She, too, fought harder than ever. Unfortunately for her, she was on Bluster, where the Storm Hawks also happened to be. Aerrow and his squadron knew from their previous fights how to take down her and her squad.
With Ravess captured, the defence crumbled. The remaining Cyclonians retreated, but rather than let them go, they went after them and rounded them up. They had broken the terms of the treaty Cyclonis signed, and they would be prosecuted for it, as that treaty demanded.
Not long after their own victory, they received word from Nimbus. The Cyclonian forces there had surrendered. With Ravess on Bluster, they had assumed they'd find Snipe controlling Nimbus. Instead, the Cyclonians were being led by Saltator, the Talon Commander promoted to governor after Snipe's exile. He had pulled a disappearing act in the wake of Cyclonis' defeat, only to resurface and throw his support behind Ravess when she started causing trouble. According to Starling, who had been coordinating the Nimbus offensive, he appeared quite eager to cooperate with them. But his cooperation proved useless. The only thing they wanted from him was Snipe's current location, which he couldn't provide.
He tried to pressure Ravess into giving up her brother's whereabouts, but she wouldn't talk. Not even when he offered to put in a good word for her with the Sky Knight Council.
"You helped us once; help us out one more time here," Aerrow tried to persuade her. "It'd earn you a lot of goodwill. You're gonna need it."
"For all the good my help did the first time," she sneered.
"What do you mean? We won. We defeated Cyclonis."
"And you've decided to let her live instead of burning her at the stake. Do you know how disappointed I was when I heard the news? I would have paid good money for a ticket to that show."
"Fine," he huffed. "We don't need your help; we'll find him ourselves."
As luck would have it, they didn't need to find Snipe themselves. While he was busy trying to get information from Ravess, his squadron was working on getting anything useful out of the rest of hers. They got it from Ravess' nervous-looking blond assistant, Snivelle.
And that was how Aerrow found himself running through the rainforest deep in the heart of Terra Volcan, dodging trees, vines, and striker crystal blasts. One blast whizzed by just over his head. It would have singed his hair if it wasn't currently plastered to his skull by a combination of heavy morning mist and his own sweat.
"You'll have to do better than that," he called out tauntingly to his unseen assailants. He could hear them nearby, at least two people flanking him and one behind, but they were well camouflaged. It didn't matter. He could see the ragged Cyclonian flag he had draped over a tree limb earlier to mark the location of the trap his team had set. It was only a little further.
Right before he reached it, he dropped and slid forward, stopping in time to hear one…two…three strangled cries followed by thumps as their simple trap successfully clotheslined his pursuers. His squad, lying in wait, leapt into action, and within minutes they were all standing in a circle around three bound Cyclonian prisoners.
"You're gonna tell us where your basecamp is," Aerrow told them.
"We're not telling you anything!" the boldest of the prisoners spat at him.
"Wanna bet?" he asked, cocking his head over toward Junko, who cracked his knuckles and did his best to look menacing.
A couple of hours later, he and the rest of the Storm Hawks hid in some bushes, spying on Snipe's camp. Between them, Starling, Azar and the Desert Falcons, and the soldiers that the interim government of Volcan had sent with them, they had the camp surrounded. Snipe and his men had been harrying the local authorities with increasing frequency and success for the last two weeks, including jamming their communications network so that they couldn't call in reinforcements from Atmosia. And all the while, they were recruiting more rebels from the towns and villages that dotted the perimeter of the terra. The government was eager to see them dealt with once and for all. The only problem was the camp was empty.
"Maybe they're out on a raid," he suggested through his earpiece.
"Or maybe they were tipped off that we were coming," Starling answered over the comm.
"Well, we need to come up with a new plan," he said.
"Agreed. Let's reg-"
Whatever else Starling said was lost as a loud warbling tone took over the line. They all winced at the noise, turning the volume way down.
"Well, that's not good," Finn said next to him.
They were fired on from behind a few seconds later, forcing them to dive for cover. While they thought they were surrounding the enemy, the enemy was really surrounding them. They'd need to fight their way out or be picked off like fish in a barrel.
"Finn!" he called out.
"Yeah?"
"Cover me!"
He drew and activated his daggers, then broke from his cover and started running in the direction the shooting was coming from.
Finn started firing as fast as he could in the direction of the enemy. Aerrow leapt, dodged, rolled and tumbled his way through the blasts that were focused mainly on him, now. With him drawing most of the fire, the others were able to charge ahead, too, and soon they were upon the Cyclonians. Once within melee range, they had the upper hand.
He could tell by the skill level of his opponents which ones were former Talons and which were the new recruits drawn in by whatever promises Snipe had made. He went easy on the newbies, and every time he took one of them down, he'd pause just long enough to offer them an ultimatum.
He stood over one of them now, a teenage boy not much older than himself. "Go home, and I'll pretend I never saw you here. This is your one chance. There won't be a second." It worked as well on this kid as it had on all the others. He looked confused then grateful as he scrambled to his feet, leaving behind his weapon, and hopefully his short career as a rebel, as he scurried away.
Unlike the others, though, he had some parting words before running off. "There's a river due west of here. Big one. Might wanna check it out."
He grinned.
"You hear that?" he asked Piper, who was fighting nearby.
"Could be a trap," she warned, disarming and then knocking out the Talon she was up against.
"Could be," he agreed. "But I don't think it is. Let's go!"
They took off in the direction of the river, passing Junko along the way. He was squared off against six Cyclonians, none of whom looked like they wanted to make the first move against the Wallop. He trusted Junko to take care of them just fine on his own, so he called out to him in passing, "Meet us by the river when you're done!"
"Okay!"
The sound of fighting grew dimmer as they ran, and he was about to speak, to work out a plan of action with Piper when the growing quiet was broken by her shriek of alarm as she suddenly disappeared from sight.
"Piper!"
He skidded to a halt, rushing back to where she had just been, and nearly fell into the same hole she had. He called her name again, peering down into the hole. It was too dark, and it seemed to curve instead of going straight down, so he couldn't see anything.
"I'm okay!" her voice drifted up to him after a moment.
"Where are you?"
"I don't know. There's some sort of tunnel system down here. I think this is how the rebels have been able to hide from the Volcans so well."
"Can you climb out?"
"I don't know. I don't think I can get out the way I got in. I'll have to look for another way."
"I'm coming down there," he said decisively.
"Aerrow, no! Don't waste time and let Snipe get away again!"
"But I don't want you wandering down there by yourself! There could be more Cyclonians."
No sooner had he said that than Finn came running toward him, panting for breath. "Dude, wait up! Junko said something about a river?"
"Yeah, we think Snipe's there. But be careful, Finn! There's a h-"
Finn's scream as he slipped down into the tunnels was pitched even higher than Piper's had been. Aerrow sighed, hanging his head.
"I'm not by myself anymore," Piper called up, voice deadpan.
"Owww! I think I broke something!"
"Your dignity?" Piper asked.
"That, too!"
"You're fine," Piper said before calling back up to Aerrow. "He's fine!" Then, before he could protest further, she said, "Go find Snipe! He's the whole reason we're here!"
"Okay," he agreed. "But be careful!"
He ran on, keeping a wary eye out so that he didn't fall into any more hidden tunnels until finally, he could hear the sound of rushing water. The river was nearby. Which meant that Snipe might be, too.
He slowed his pace, creeping up on the river, his head on a swivel as he looked for any signs of life. Sure enough, he soon spotted a makeshift command post manned by a pair of Talons and Snipe himself. He was busy barking orders into a radio handset while one of the Talons took notes and the other operated some machine housed within a small trunk.
"The radio jammer," someone said close to his ear, and he jumped. He looked over to see Azar, who smiled apologetically. The sound of their approach, if there had been any, had been drowned out by the noise of the river.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was separated from my squadron in the fighting. I saw you and your crystal mage leave the field of battle and knew you would never abandon a fight without a good reason."
"So you followed us."
"As soon as I could, yes."
"Well, I'm glad you did. I got separated from my squad, too."
"We will need to destroy that jammer to restore communications."
"Yeah. You take out the two Talons and that jammer, and I'll go after Snipe. You good with that?"
Azar nodded in agreement, and they both activated their weapons and charged.
Snipe looked up, and if he was surprised to see him rushing toward him, he recovered quickly. Dropping the handset, he grabbed his mace and brought it up, using the shaft to block his attack as he brought his daggers slashing down from overhead and pushing him away. Aerrow staggered back, regaining his balance just in time to dodge as Snipe swung at him.
"You're not gonna win this time, Storm Hawk! Me and Ravess are taking over Cyclonia! And when we do, we're gonna smush all of you and make sure you stay smushed!"
"Didn't you hear? We already captured Ravess," he smirked.
He thought that might get to Snipe, but he was wrong. He just threw his head back and laughed. "Good! I was getting sick of her bossing me around! Now I get to be the Master, all by myself!"
"That's not how this is gonna go," he told him before pressing his attack. As they fought, he realized that while he was keeping Snipe mainly on the defensive, he wasn't making much progress toward defeating him. He'd always been tough to beat thanks to his sheer size, but his time spent surviving down in the Wastelands seemed to have made him even tougher. He knew using the Lightning Claw could end this, but he couldn't use it in such close quarters fighting. It took too long. Every time he tried, Snipe would attack, and he'd nearly get his skull cracked.
"Oi!"
Their attention was drawn to Azar, who had taken down the two Talons and, judging by the chatter that was now coming through Aerrow's earpiece, the jammer. They pointed their scimitar at Snipe. "Do you think you can beat both of us? It would be foolish to try."
Clearly, Azar had never met Snipe before, or they'd know that he and foolishness were well acquainted. But Aerrow held off attacking on the off chance Snipe would surrender peacefully.
"I'm not scared of a couple of runts like you," Snipe laughed, eyeing Azar. "What're you supposed to be, anyway?" he asked derisively.
Azar, who'd never been anything other than soft-spoken, kind, and courteous in the short time he'd known them, grinned. A downright wolfish grin that would have given even him pause if he was on the receiving end of it. "I am the Sky Knight of Terra Xerxxes," they answered proudly, tapping the falcon emblem etched into one of their pauldrons. The look they threw Snipe made it clear that they knew that that wasn't the answer he was looking for, but that it was all the answer he was going to get.
"No, I mean are you a-"
"Deh! Talking is done," Azar interrupted him. "We fight now. Unless you wish to surrender?"
"Never!"
Aerrow immediately attacked again, a plan forming. He drove Snipe further away from Azar, keeping him busy defending against his lightning-quick attacks, before yelling to the other Sky Knight, "Use your move!"
Azar didn't hesitate. A golden nimbus surrounded them as they took a step and leapt into the air, spinning. They completed three full rotations before landing in a crouch, slashing their scimitar diagonally as they landed. A wave of phoenix fire shot toward Snipe. Aerrow rolled out of the way as Azar sprang back into the air, spinning and slashing in the opposite direction. A second wave of phoenix fire chased the first, speeding toward it until they met, forming a fiery X that slammed into Snipe, blasting him off his feet. He landed in a smoking heap, dazed.
But it wasn't long before Snipe clumsily tried pushing himself back to his feet despite his disoriented state. Azar's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Aerrow acted on instinct, taking a deep breath as he felt the power thrumming through his veins. He leapt, arching his back as he raised his daggers above his head and brought them down, sending a burst of blue striker crystal energy at Snipe. It struck him square in the chest, sending him crashing violently back down. He raised his head an inch or two as Aerrow landed to stand above him. He was fighting to remain conscious, but Aerrow could tell it was a losing battle.
"Night night," Aerrow said with a grin and a little wave goodbye. Snipe's eyes rolled back, and his head hit the ground with a dull thunk.
He shifted his grin to Azar. "That was awesome! Your Sky Knight move is so cool!"
Azar grinned back, shrugging humbly, "The Whirling Dervish has been the hallmark of Desert Falcon Sky Knights for generations. But it's not as awesome as the Lightning Claw. That is legendary!"
He copied Azar's modest, aw-shucks shrug, and they both laughed. Smiling, he turned on his mic. "Status report," he requested, while Azar made sure Snipe and the two Talons were properly restrained before they woke up.
"The battle's done," Starling's voice came over the comm. "We're just cleaning up here."
"You were right about there being more Cyclonians in the tunnels," Piper spoke up. "We've sent a few teams down there to flush the rest of them out."
"I'm glad you made it out okay," Aerrow told her.
"Told you we would," she answered, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
"What about you?" Starling asked. "Piper said you got a potential tip on Snipe's location."
"The tip was right. We got Snipe. Can you send us some help? Azar and I can't drag him back to the Condor by ourselves."
"Azar!" an unfamiliar voice piped up. "You're alive?"
"I hope you are not too disappointed, Reza," Azar joked through their earpiece. A chorus of whoops filtered through Reza's open mic as the Desert Falcons celebrated still having their Sky Knight.
"Excellent news, all," Starling said brightly. "We'll send a team right away to assist you, Aerrow."
"Thanks, you guys."
A few days later, Aerrow was once again sat with his squadron in the Council Hall. This time, Dark Ace was at the defence table awaiting his sentencing. Unlike Cyclonis, who hadn't acknowledged their presence once during her hearing, Dark Ace cast frequent sneering glares their way as they waited for the tribunal to arrive. There was a feral glint in his eyes that he didn't like. He wondered if things would get as ugly as they had at Cyclonis' hearing.
Captain Swift seemed equally concerned because he hadn't afforded Dark Ace the courtesy of uncuffing him. Swift stood to one side of him while another guard stood on the other. Aerrow felt a pang of sympathy for the captain. The man looked exhausted, and he couldn't blame him. He doubted it had been easy dealing with Cyclonis since the sentencing. Or at all, really. On top of that, they had just dropped two more high profile, pissed off Cyclonians at his feet.
And that wasn't even touching on the protests. Across the Free Atmos, not a day had gone by without demonstrations protesting the perceived injustice of Cyclonis' 'light' sentence. A lot of anger and frustration was being aimed at anyone in uniform, be it Sky Knight, soldier, security, or prison guard. Since getting back from Terra Volcan, he and his friends had taken to wearing civvies whenever they weren't on official business. It made life easier.
Previously, he had a lot of reservations about sending all the Cyclonians to Zartacla. He had assumed that Cyclonis and the Dark Ace, and Ravess and Snipe, would be kept at the Stockade. He knew, intellectually, that Zartacla was no longer a Cyclonian-run prison. But emotionally, he still viewed it that way. It felt like a disaster to him, sending Cyclonia's leadership there. But at this point, he was just eager for this to all be over. Maybe with the Cyclonians out of sight, out of mind would follow, and tensions would ease. Not that he and his squadron could wash their hands of them entirely. Piper was still the one best equipped to monitor Cyclonis. They'd be making frequent trips to Zartacla. It made him itch to think about, but there was no helping it.
The tribunal finally entered, and the tension in the room ramped up.
"Stand," the Chairman ordered without preamble. Dark Ace stood, ramrod straight, and the Chairman continued. "I won't bother with speeches or explanations. Neither you nor your former Master seems willing to engage in any sort of self-reflection on the immeasurable harm you've caused."
The corners of Dark Ace's mouth twitched briefly into a small, humourless smirk.
"You are hereby sentenced to three terms of life imprisonment, to be served consecutively. In accordance with our laws, you will be eligible to apply for parole in 45 years."
If Dark Ace was surprised, he didn't show it. Of course, he had been found guilty of fewer crimes than Cyclonis had. He probably knew that this was a possibility, had had time to prepare himself. But just because he wasn't surprised didn't mean he wasn't angry.
"Does it make you feel good?" he sneered. "Dangling the tiniest of carrots in front of my face, knowing that you're just going to pull it away at the last second?"
"That's not what we're doing," the Chairman said.
"Don't insult me by denying it! You have no intention of ever granting me parole."
"You're right. The man who stands before us now will never be granted parole. Lucky for you, you have 45 years to become the kind of man the Council could consider releasing back into the world."
"You bastards! If you had any honour, you'd grant me the duel to the death I requested at the start of all of this!"
"Don't you dare!" Starling spoke up, surprising Aerrow. As quick as she had been to reproach Harrier after Cyclonis' sentencing, he didn't expect her to be the one to snap back at the Dark Ace now. "Don't you dare speak to us of honour! You, of all people, have no right, you traitor! At least Cyclonis has an excuse. She was born and raised steeped in Cyclonian propaganda. An argument could be made that she truly didn't know any better. But you, Ace? You have no such excuse. You were one of us, and you stabbed us in the back!"
Both Starling and Dark Ace flicked their gazes toward him before looking back at each other. He frowned, wrapping his arms around himself. He never quite knew how to feel whenever the subject of Lightning Strike came up. Try as he might, he couldn't remember the man. Sometimes he had dreams, but he never knew if those were memories or just figments of his imagination. He respected him as a Sky Knight more than he loved him as a father, and he felt guilty whenever he thought too hard about that. So he tried not to think about it.
Dark Ace bared his teeth. "The world would be better off united under the Cyclonian banner. You may not like to hear that, but it's true."
"Please, you're no true believer. You did what you did for your own personal gain," Starling said harshly.
"Believe of me what you will," Dark Ace said curtly. Aerrow couldn't help but notice how Dark Ace had grown tenser and tenser as Starling spoke. If they weren't careful, they would have a repeat of the previous hearing's ending. Though he suspected any freak out that happened today would involve less obvious grief and more explosive violence.
It was Dark Ace himself who acted to prevent that from happening. Turning his head to address Captain Swift, he said, "We're leaving. Now."
Swift just looked to the Chairman for direction, who nodded. "If he's so eager to begin his sentence, far be it for us to stand in the way. Court dismissed."
After Dark Ace was gone, Piper put her arm around Aerrow's shoulders, giving him a little side hug. "You okay?"
He smiled reassuringly at her. "Yeah, I'm okay."