As Green Team settled in properly, Haxx enjoyed his fun breaking in Radec to get him ready for a deployment. He wanted to gloat about being part of the established Spec Ops team, by Irk, he needed to perform like one of them. Despite his brash arrogance, a surreal similarity of the Haxx of old, he had told the truth about his physicality. Had they been measuring his capability on Elite standards, he'd far exceed expectations. Easily Elite Shock Trooper material with a resume a mile long to boot. Unfortunately, even he had his limits and the Lieutenant maliciously pushed Purple's fresh meat to failure. He had done his time, it was time for someone else to suffer.

Kazak, free of the dead weight of new recruits, made a quick stop at Corr's room hoping to find him there. He opened the door and found the room empty. Not a sign of Corr or Calla in sight. Setting a rusty box on his desk, Kazak withdrew a pen and paper, penning a quick note to the Captain.

Mission successful. The thing was right where she said it was. Seal's intact after all this time but it's rusted to shit. May need Aero to open it.

-Kazak

Found Vult to talk to the FNGs, got Calla's box for Corr, so far so good. Just needed to drop the parts off for Aero and then run to the armory and grab the mass driver slugs he ordered. His Vortian weaponry needed food.

The others, meanwhile, busied themselves between the simulator, PT, and range time. The cargo hold was filled to capacity, the hangar occupied by three shuttles, a Megadoomer, a few utility vehicles, and part of it turned into a machine shop. Aero, Vard, and Deris when he was free, all saw the hangar organized

A sense of normalcy slowly returned around the ship. Routines of physical fitness, simulator training, range time, and assigned duties rotated between the three teams of the unit. Green Team obviously had a long way to go as far as performance went but their effort to improve was noticed. Radec's introduction into Purple Team took adjustment. A capable, competent soldier lacking discipline, his Elite tendencies caused a great deal of issues where discretion was required.

Chavsa complained about some ghosts in the system. Something about the door to the bridge randomly opening on her as she came on duty, or when she was about to go off duty. Little did she know about the two Vortians who traded places with her. Orkos ran it up to Corr, as was procedure, only for Corr to quietly shelve the concerns. The less known to them yet, the better.

FROM: SBLT. Zutel
TO: CMDR Vult
SUBJECT: Rem

Recovery coming along swimmingly. She's at the point of forming complete sentences now. Thought you'd want to know.

A short while later, Commander Vult entered the infirmary. Zutel stood at Rem's bedside. The affected Navigator's recovery was instantly noticeable. The color returned to what little skin was visible, her right arm finally free of its cast. Healing surgical scars traced from fingertips to beneath the sleeve of her medical gown.

"Is this really necessary, Zutel?" She sighed, annoyed. "I'm not a smeet, I don't need to be fed like one."

"Rem, you can't see your food. I know this is degrading but, yes, unfortunately necessary. Unless, of course, you'd rather go back to a feeding tube down your throat." Zutel answered the blinded pilot. "Not much of an alternative. Not until we can determine how your optic nerves are."

Rem blanched at the alternative.

"Nah, feed me, robot arm."

"See you haven't lost your sense of humor," Vult commented, coming to stand beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Commander," her wrapped head turned to the source. "I'm not drugged up anymore so that's an improvement. Sucks I can't see…but I have my own personal slave so it's not all bad."

Posa groaned from a desk nearby at the comment, causing Zutel to chuckle and look to her understudy. "Get to our level and one day you too can make someone be a slave for a paraplegic."

"Try not to abuse it too much." Vult half-heartedly commented in amusement.

"No promises, Sir…I only make reasonable requests. I am…what did you call it?"

"Handicapped. Impaired. Pain in my butt." Posa stated, less than enthused.

Zutel only laughed further at the exchange. "My optimism is still holding, Posa. This won't be permanent if it pans out." She looked to Vult with a nod.

Vult chuckled, sighing.

"Well…you seem lucid enough now so now is as good a time as any."

"Time for what?" Rem queried with confusion. "…you cutting me from the team?"

"What? No. Absolutely not." Vult assured, thinking his words over carefully. "…you want the short version or the long version?"

"Short. Always been a direct to the point sort of gal, Commander."

Zutel stepped aside to let Vult have all the space he needed. Back to her desk in the infirmary, she pulled up the console and started a message to Vard and Aero. She knew exactly where this was going to go if it was anything like a few days ago.

"That you have," He concurred, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts. "You are quite observant and incredibly intelligent given your station, Rem. Two vital necessities to perform your duties up until the events of the crash on Vort. I am certain you've noticed a great deal of…changes taking place around you. Changes to the ship. Changes to how we do things. Changes to the team itself. Individual, physical changes."

A pause.

"Do you know what that is?"

The recovering pilot mulled over her superior's words momentarily.

"...Permission to speak freely, Commander?"

"Of course. Floor is yours, Rem."

"...I had a great deal of concern after Sub Zero Station. How you brought Hesa aboard, took the General and her scientist father as prisoners. Countermanding orders is one thing, but clear, defined objectives from the Tallest? I kept it to myself and trusted you…then everybody physically changed…acting differently. I may not be the sharpest crayon in the knife shed, Sir, but I'm not stupid…whatever was done to Hesa was done to the rest of you, wasn't it?"

"Yes. That is correct." The Commander did not hesitate in the slightest at her arrival to that conclusion. "Doctor Zharic's research was decrypted, encoded, and in exchange for preferred treatment and his eventual release in assisting us, the process that disconnected Hesa from the Control Brains' influence was implemented on most of the team. Until yesterday, only three holdouts remained: You, Rha, and Tuu."

The realization smacked her right in the face…or it could have been the spoonful of food Posa absentmindedly was trying to feed her, managing to smear it across her cheek. "Hey! Just- Wait, alright? Kinda busy."

"Sorry," Posa sheepishly apologized, quickly wiping the mess up she made.

"...okay…train of thought…everyone but me, Rha, and Tuu got unhooked?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Because I asked each of them individually at different times in confidence the same I am doing to you now. I could not risk revealing this all at once and compromising those in favor. If I was able to come to you sooner, I would have. You know that."

"...is that why Tuu isn't here anymore with us?"

"Yes. He nearly got all of us killed by going to General Vaukt with the same concerns you had instead of talking to me first to allay them. He was convinced we were all defective and worthy of deactivation. Thankfully…we have like-minded friends outside of this unit." He intentionally left vague.

"You said until yesterday, the three of us. Tuu transferred out…and Rha?"

"He agreed to the idea of being unhooked from the system and given proper free-thought and independence. He was very much aware his existence was on borrowed time with the injuries he sustained at Tallum. Missing his legs makes him combat ineffective and unfit for service. Fulfills multiple criteria for deactivation, just as I did when I lost my arm."

"Even Posa and I," Zutel spoke up from the desk to add a small point of her own. "When the General officially transferred us to you, we were both unhooked. The idea of freedom is absolutely enticing." She paused to chuckle, "Besides, Posa's got the same problem as you two, she's currently has an eyepatch. Until we get her a replacement, she'd be in the same boat as you and Rha; lack of depth perception is awful in this field and would make her a defective medic."

Vult noted the mental gears turning within Rem's mind. Her posture upright and fixated in deep contemplation as options were weighed and circumstances considered. A proverbial puzzle had been dumped out onto the table before her and the pieces began to snap into place, the image becoming ever clearer.

"...you guys said I was knocked out in this bed for almost two months. Why am I still here? The Control Brains would have known by now about my injuries, right?'

"They would have, yes." Vult nodded.

"So how am I not deactivated? Did you already unhook me?"

"No. This needs to be a personal choice. Having it forced onto you is no different than what the Control Brains have done to us. A choice that only you and you alone can make, Rem." Her commanding officer stipulated. "As for your confusion about how you're still alive, as I said earlier, we have like-minded friends outside of this unit. Something of a guardian that has been looking out for us from the very beginning."

"...and if I don't do this, it'll be a matter of time and chance before my plug gets pulled?"

"Essentially. All the more reason why I present this to you now and ensure that never happens."

Rem's visible visage pursed into an expression of uncertainty, tightening with a hint of hesitation at what needed to be said.

"What else are you not telling me, Sir? All the secrecy, hidden-agenda, and rule-bending…there's something else to it. Has to be. Otherwise you'd do a group meeting and that way."

A long sigh escaped Vult as he prepared himself.

"My…grievances with things beyond our control should come as no surprise to any of you. The frustrations I feel in dealing with our superiors and mitigating disaster due to their lack of diligence or outright incompetence. They have only grown and multiplied over time. What happened at Tallum, to you, to Rha…and Lieutenant Volx. Whatever doubts I held about the direction I was taking this team evaporated."

"What direction is that, Sir?" Rem pointedly queried.

"Into the heart of the Empire itself. We are the monster it created. The aggressive expansion, the betrayal of allies, the pointless slaughter. No more. We are the beginning of something far greater in scope that any of us could possibly fathom…something I believe you will only truly understand once you are free of Imperial influence, Rem."

"...we're going rogue, aren't we?"

"Yes. Not today, but soon. I hand-selected the very best and couldn't ask for a better team to lead that charge."

Silence overcame Rem. Her chin fell, body language appearing distant as she processed the mountain of information and revelations presented. Her commanding officer was talking of…rebellion. Treason! Fighting their own people! Helping the very same people they had been killing across the universe! Yet…deep down, after all they had been through up until that point…it felt like the right thing to do.

"...promise me one thing and I'm on-board, Commander."

"Anything. What is it?"

"Promise me I'll fly again and I'll stand by your side until the end."

A smile spread across Vult's face, a mixture of pride and relief filling him at Rem's proclamation of loyalty.

"You have my word, I'll do everything in my power to make sure that happens."

"Your word may as well be worth its weight in solid gold bars at the rate you're going, Commander." Rem gave a small laugh, more upbeat and optimistic. "You're promising me the universe…and I believe you'll deliver."

"Damn straight we'll get you flying," Zutel typed out her message to Aero and Vard for them to get to the infirmary. "I'm very optimistic about your condition, Rem. You're a fighter. If your optic nerves are intact, we'll get you a brand new set of eyes and get you back flying quick as can be."

Outside of the infirmary, the pounding footfalls of someone at full sprint down the hallway grew in crescendo as they neared. The door whisked open to the sight of Aero skidding to a halt, nearly toppling over from her momentum as she righted herself and stumbled through the door. Panting for breath, her eyes wide in shock, skin visibly pale, she looked directly to Vult in absolute terror.

"What's wrong, Aero?" He pointedly asked, turning to address her.

"Internal Affairs, Sir. They're on the dock. They're armed to the antenna…and there's a lot of them…and they want to talk to you. Immediately. Said if you don't get down there right now, they're coming aboard."

Without another word spoken, Vult hurriedly departed the infirmary, Aero in tow. One moment to speak of open defiance, the next succumbing to its authority. So close to achieving a major ulterior goal and moving forward with plans…the timing was not purely coincidental. Great restraint was exercised to remain calm and not jump to conclusions. Had he a choice, he would prefer diplomacy over forcing their hand at Devastis of all places.

Shooting one's way out of trouble tended to get extremely messy.