A/N

Well, my summer university courses finished up last week, so other than work I actually have some time again. It took me a while to write today's chapter, not because it was complicated, but because the next few battle chapters rely heavily on this one for exposition and setup. I'll readily admit that I'm not too well-versed on the topic of planetary climates and atmospheric conditions - but hey, this is sci-fi, so I'm willing to make some concessions for the sake of an interesting story.

I got another two chapters of Team MARS Part 3 done - which I feel satisfied about. This weekend I plan to set aside some time and proofread the next batch of chapters for upload; hopefully (and optimistically) I can get them out in the next week or so.

Anyways...

Chapter 73…

Ashley was, once again, thankful for the tranquil silence of her room…

The woman's obsidian-coloured eyes slowly cracked open, her ears detecting the ever-so-slight hum of the room's conduits and overhead lights. The air of Ashley's room felt refreshingly cool, in contrast with her sweaty skin and the bunk's smothering sheets.

Licking her dry lips, Ashley shut her eyes and focused on the silence. This task required just enough effort that Ashley could focus on something other than her pounding headache. The dark haired woman could detect the faintest hint of alcohol in the air; but whether that was from the bottles, her clothes, or her breath… Ashley was unsure…

The dark haired woman rolled her head back and forth on the surface of her stiff pillow and kept her eyes squeezed shut to block out the pinpricks of light which shone from the ceiling fixture. Ashley silently meditated in the silence, trying her hardest to ignore the churning sensation in her gut and the sour taste of bile slowly creeping up her throat. For what felt like hours Ashley waged a silent battle of wills against her own anatomy…

… and her anatomy was beginning to gain ground.

'Oh… fuck…'

With all the grace of blind drunkard - which she basically was - Ashley clumsily rose from her bed. One pale hand shot up to cover her mouth, the other reaching down to clutch her rebellious stomach. Ashley's eyes burned in reaction to the room's light, and the dark haired woman was forced to squint as she recklessly tumbled her way into the bathroom.

Momentarily slipping on an empty bottle of bourbon, Ashley put her carefully-honed pilot's physique to good use and righted herself. She surged through the bathroom entryway, propelling herself through the opening by clamping her hands on either side of the doorframe.

Zeroing in on the small toilet, Ashley bent down and positioned her mouth over the opening. All Ashley could do was hold on for dear life as her throat twitched and her stomach lurched - unleashing the torrent of stomach contents that Ashley's body had been trying to eject all morning. A shooting pain arced up Ashley's sides and around her kidneys as her muscles spasmed uncontrollably, the sensation lingering even after the dark haired woman had stopped lurching.

After about twenty seconds of agony… it was over…

Slowly breathing in and out, Ashley fumbled her hand against the flusher and promptly collapsed onto the cold floor of the cramped bathroom.

'Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…'

"Okay…" Ashley let loose a single word from her lips. "Okay…"

'Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…'

"What the fuck happened last night…?" Ashley wondered aloud.

It was a genuine question to herself - Ashley had a sizable gap in her memory that needed to be filled in. The dark haired woman could scarcely remember walking into a room full of people - a bar. Barker had invited, or rather instructed Ashley to attend the ACES' celebratory party; and she had indeed been in attendance. But other than that one fleeting memory Ashley was ignorant to the events of the previous night…

Ashley did not know for how long she rested on the cold floor. The flat surface did little for the pain in her muscles but it was at least cool to the touch. But with the stomach bile ejected from her body, Ashley's headache was not as bad as it had been before. Her head still beat with a steady rhythm, but Ashley's sense of balance had been somewhat restored. With some willpower, the dark haired woman pushed herself off of the bathroom floor and made her way out of the room. Ashley's vision spun and her eyes burned from the light, so she leaned against the nearest wall and used her hands to steady herself.

'What the fuck happened to my room?' Ashley thought to herself.

The day before, Ashley's room had been undecorated and uninspired - save for the small stash of alcohol the woman kept tucked away underneath her cot. Now, her room was a pigsty, an inextricable mess of clothing, cloth, and alcohol bottles.

"Ugh…" Ashley scrunched up her nose in reaction to the scent of alcohol and sweat. It had been unpleasant before, but upon witnessing the full scope of the mess it had progressed to overpowering. "Disgusting…"

Although it would do little good, Ashley bent down and examined the mess littering her floor. There were a few stray shirts and jackets which were definitely not hers. Empty or half-full bottles made up the majority of the mess, and a sour-smelling pool of stale alcohol had formed in the center of the pile.

It wasn't Ashley's mess, the dark haired woman was sure of that… and she also wasn't looking forward to cleaning it up…

Ashley's horror was interrupted by the shrill buzz of her room's intercom. Somebody, and Ashley had a sinking suspicion who, was requesting entry to her room.

"Fuck, not again…"

The door buzzer sounded two more times as Ashley carefully (and clumsily) navigated her way to the room's entrance. Her feet were thankfully still clad in the boots she had pulled on the night before, shielding her skin from the worst of the soggy mess littering her floor.

"Deja vu…" Ashley muttered as she hastily smacked the button to open the door.

The door slid open to reveal a person she didn't expect…

Ashley had expected an older man with un-fashionable stubble and an ever-present flask. She was instead greeted by a woman, whose grey eyes appeared noticeably more bloodshot than usual.

"Oh…" Ashley blinked her bleary eyes in surprise. "Hey…"

"Hi…" Valentina coughed back, raising her forearm to crudely wipe her pale mouth. The short-haired woman awkwardly leaned into the doorframe, as if she was off-balance and looking for some kind of crutch. "You're awake, good…"

"I wish that I wasn't…" Ashley groused and gestured to her temple.

"Likewise," the other woman muttered in return.

Clearing her throat and briefly averting her vision, Ashley bit her lower lip and leaned on her back foot.

"So… what do you want?" Ashley cleared her throat.

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"We're not exactly friends."

"No, not really," Valentina shook her head, gently shifting her unkempt brown hair. "Barker sent me to fetch you."

"For what?" Ashley complained and covered her bleary eyes. "What time is it? And what's so important…?"

"I mean, we're in the middle of space so it's difficult to judge time… but I'd say it's about early afternoon," Valentina gently shrugged. "And Barker wants us all to gather in the briefing room. Apparently the Militia has bumped up the schedule for the next job, we all need to be there."

"Fuck," Ashley rubbed her sore temples. "We can't do it another day?"

"Barker asked that exact same question," Valentina shook her head again. "And the Militia higher-ups weren't exactly sympathetic. The briefing starts soon, and like it or not every single one of us has to be there."

"Fine, fine…" Ashley cleared her throat. "Just let me shower first."

"I don't think that there's any time for that…"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Valentina motioned for Ashley to close the door. "But if it's any consolation - you won't be the only person there in desperate need of one. Pull on your uniform and let's get going. Oh, and have some of this."

Reaching into the front flap of her jumpsuit pocket, Valentina removed a small flask and handed it off to Ashley. The dark haired woman accepted the container and unscrewed the lid. Ashley recoiled when she sniffed the contents of the flask.

"What the hell is that?" Ashley coughed. "It smells like burned wires…"

"It's some of Barker's hangover cure, he always brings some with him on long missions," Valentina informed Ashley. "Every one of us took a swig, and you look like you could use some too…"

Biting her lower lip in apprehension, Ashley pinched her nose and took a fast gulp of the brown liquid. The flavor and smell nearly sent Ashley into another fit of uncontrolled lurching before she managed to battle down her gag reflex.

"Disgusting…" Ashley coughed as she passed the flask back to her leader, who readily accepted it. "What is that shit even made of? Barker refused to tell me when I asked…"

"Only Barker knows the full recipe," Valentina smirked. "But I do happen to know that it contains a lot of caffeine…"

"That makes sense…" Ashley frowned as she rubbed her temples. Whatever the mystery cure was, it worked quickly, with Ashley's headache already feeling duller than it had a few minutes ago. "What else?"

"Like I said, only Barker truly knows," the grey eyed woman shrugged. "Now go get dressed up in something that doesn't have any stains."

Pursing her lips, Ashley shifted to the side and moved to close the door. The brief motion allowed her team leader the briefest of glimpses into Ashley's personal quarters - her grey eyes widening in surprise and revulsion.

"What the hell happened here?" Valentina gestured to the mess on the floor and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Honestly, I was hoping that you'd remember."

"It's… fuzzy…"

"Likewise."

Shooing her team leader out of the door frame, Ashley closed the sliding panel with the touch of a button and turned back towards her room. Tiptoeing over the teeming mess of alcohol bottles and clothes, Ashley made for her closet and retrieved her uniform; which at this point was probably the only clean article of clothing she owned.

As she slipped on the jumpsuit, Ashley gazed longingly at the bathroom - dreaming of a hot shower she couldn't yet take.


"You waited for me?" Ashley blinked in surprise.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Valentina cocked her head in return. "It took you what… a minute to get dressed? Do you even know where the briefing room is on this ship?"

"Well… no…"

"My point exactly," the brown haired woman grumbled as she lifted herself off of the doorframe. "Are you ready to get going?"

Ashley frowned, fighting the desperate urge to step back into her room and lock the door.

"Lead the way…"

As she was led to the briefing room by her team leader, Ashley silently observed that the interior of MCS Dorado was marked far better than any IMC vessel she had been a passenger on. Handmade signs or crudely painted markings hung over every door or were positioned at every crossroad - making navigation relatively easy. The MCS Dorado was noticeably quite old - just like everything the Militia made use of - and Ashley wondered if the crude markings were a leftover from the days when the Militia was just a guerrilla force rather than a professional standing army.

Ashley's boots tapped gently against the mesh grating of the grey corridors. The air was nice and cool against the dark haired woman's skin; and other than the occasional hum from exposed conduits the ambiance of the hallways was quiet. The ship's other occupants paid Ashley no mind as they attended to their own business.

"Right up here…" Valentina trailed off, lazily gesturing to another corridor with an outstretched finger. The words "briefing room" had been scrawled across a nearby bulkhead in faded orange paint, accompanied by an arrow pointing in the same direction Valentina had gestured to.

"I see…" Ashley cleared her throat.

The two women fell into an awkward silence as they walked. Ashley turned her head away from her team leader as they passed a row of large windows, observing the oppressive void of space beyond the transparent material.

"In all honesty, I didn't wait outside your room because I wanted to lead you to the briefing room…"

Ashley snapped to attention, turning her head to regard her team leader with a look of surprise and interest. "What?"

"I, uh…" Valentina averted her bloodshot eyes away from Ashley and coughed into her hand. "Well, I actually wanted to apologise to you for what happened at the party last night."

Ashley blinked in confusion. "Again… what?"

"I was out of line… and we were all super drunk," Valentina awkwardly coughed into her hand. The brown haired woman was still averting her gaze away from Ashley, as if making eye-contact would bring about something disastrous. "It was awkward, I know."

"What are you even talking about?" Ashley shook her head in confusion.

The two women ground to a halt in front of a rather unremarkable door. Above the frame hung the words "briefing room", scrawled on a metal sheet which had been bolted to the top of the bulkhead.

"Oh…" Valentina regarded Ashley with a look of surprise, finally making eye contact with the dark haired woman. "You don't remember?"

"All I remember from last night was walking into the bar…" Ashley once again rubbed her aching temples. "Today I woke up in my bed, tripped over the massive mess in my room I don't remember being responsible for, vomited, and then got stuck walking here with you… in that specific order…"

"Huh…" Valentina frowned, reaching out to manipulate the door control panel. "Nevermind then."

"Wait, what happened last night?"

"Uh, nothing really worth mentioning."

The conversation came to an abrupt end as the door slid open to reveal the packed room beyond.

Valentina stepped into the room first with Ashley following behind her. The dark haired woman felt herself tense under the sudden gaze of over two-dozen eyes - each just as bloodshot as hers were. Even from the entrance of the room Ashley could feel the frustration and discontent simmering in the air; the combined rage of over two-dozen hungover mercenaries. The room was too small to accommodate the crowd, with the many ACE members squeezed-in around the briefing room's single table.

Awkwardly clearing her throat, Ashley followed her team leader to one of the few empty seats still available. Ashley ended up wedged between two unfamiliar pilots. The dark haired woman shifted in her uncomfortable chair and pulled in her elbows so that she could rest her hands on the surface of the table.

While Barker's mysterious concoction had taken the edge off of Ashley's headache, a steady rhythm still pulsed and beat between her temples. She resisted the urge to lay her head down atop the surface of the table; instead, she locked her tired eyes on her hands and tried to tune out the world around her.

"Beast, beast, beast, beast, beast…"

Ashley could hear the same word repeated again and again - the steady, repetitive noise nearly drowned out by her headache.

"Beast, beast, beast, beast, beast…"

The chant continued.

Curious, Ashley snapped to attention and tore her gaze away from her hands. She looked around the room, only to once again find all eyes (and one familiar blue optic) looking straight at her. Ashley nearly-shrank under the gaze of her cohorts, who regarded her with unreadable expressions as they silently chanted the single word to her.

"Beast, beast, beast, beast, beast…" The members of the ACE continued to chant. Some were beginning to add a rhythm to the chant, lightly smacking the bottoms of their fists against the surface of the table. "Beast, beast, beast, beast, beast…"

"What…?" Ashley coughed, the single word sounding strangled in the back of her throat. "Why are you all looking at me…?"

Having accomplished their goal of making Ashley aware of their presence, the other ACE members chuckled and laughed between one another - still occasionally glancing and smiling in Ashley's direction. The dark haired woman regarded her cohorts in utter confusion, feeling up her own face with her hands and scanning the room for any indication as to why she had suddenly been thrust into the spotlight.

Elijah was sitting on the opposite end of the room, the chair he was leaning in looking comically tiny when compared to his hulking mechanical body. The simulacrum gave Ashley the tiniest noncommittal shrug, his blue optic betraying no emotion. Valentina was the same, the grey eyed woman quickly averting her gaze away from Ashley the moment the dark haired woman peeked in her direction.

"What…?" Ashley spoke up a little bit louder. "What's so funny?"

Looking between each other in amusement, the other mercenaries began another round of chanting.

"Beast, beast, beast, beast, beast…"

Ashley was still confused when she felt a hand that was not her own tug on the sleeve of her uniform jumpsuit. Turning her head, Ashley found herself staring into the face of the man seated next to her. He was gently tanned, with a slightly-ruffled head of dark hair. The man's face was gentle and round, with a wide nose and high cheekbones.

"Beast…" The man grinned at Ashley, excitedly pumping the air with his curled fist. Ashley found his voice to be familiar, although she was sure that she had never seen his face.

"What…?" Ashley blinked in confusion. "What the hell is going on?"

"You don't remember…?" The man suddenly frowned. "From last night…?"

"No…" Ashley shook her head. "Not a thing…"

"Fair enough, you were the drunkest out of all of us," the man shrugged. "I mean, you dominated the contest…"

"Contest?" Ashley groaned.

"Yeah, the drinking contest, what else?" The man chuckled before realization dawned on his face. "Oh right… drunken amnesia, I forgot. Well, let's just say that you have a new nickname…"

"Beast, beast, beast, beast, beast…" The mass of hungover mercenaries continued to chant.

"Oh no…" Ashley groaned.

"Yeah," the tanned man next to Ashley chuckled. "I mean, usually nicknames don't count if they're self-given… but you'll be the exception to the rule…"

"Beast, beast, beast, beast, beast…"

"... because you earned the name."

"Oh god no…" Ashley hid her rapidly reddening face in her hands. "Fuck…"

"Beast, beast, beast, beast, beast…"

"You do remember me, right?"

Ashley moved her face out of her hands to peek up at the tanned man sitting next to her. He was regarding her with a curious look.

While his voice was familiar, Ashley couldn't remember his face.

"In all honesty, no…" Ashley frowned. "Sorry."

"Well, this is the third time I've introduced myself then…" The man grinned at Ashley before sticking out his hand.

Ashley accepted the man's hand for a shake.

"Third time?"

"First time was on Lyra-1, but I had a helmet on. The second time was last night in the bar, but you don't remember," the man grinned and shook Ashley's hand. "Nhat Tran."

"Right…" Ashley withdrew her hand from the shake. "You were down in that cave with us, you and…"

"Serjenko. He's the pasty weirdo sitting over there…" Tran motioned to another man sitting on the opposite end of the room. Serjenko was a pale, thin man with a shaved head and dark eyes. His stubble-covered cheeks noticeably tightened at Tran's verbal jab and he answered it with a rude hand gesture.

"Well, I'll try to remember your name from now on…" Ashley cleared her throat.

"Cool, I appreciate it."

Ashley's minor interaction with the man sitting next to her was interrupted by the door to the briefing room sliding open. The two-dozen mercenaries squeezed into the tight room instantly fell silent as their leader, and another woman of clear importance strode into the room.

"Oh hey, you're all here!" Barker grinned as he observed the occupants of the cramped briefing room. "Good - really good! I was worried that I would have to break out the old pan and hammer to wake you all up!"

Barker's joke was met with several grumbles and glares of discontent from the mass of mercenaries - Ashley not included.

"You run a tight operation, Barker," the woman accompanying the mercenary leader sighed. She had her arms crossed across her chest, her sleeves rolled up to display impressively toned forearms. The woman had a stern face and piercing eyes, her short mop of dark hair tied back with a faded red bandana.

Ashley could swear that she had seen this woman somewhere before… although she couldn't remember where exactly…

"Thank you, Commander Briggs," Barker cleared his throat. The older man gestured to the occupants of the room with an outstretched hand and shifted his position to lean against the room's table. "You have the floor."

"Thank you, Barker," the bandana-wearing woman quickly replied. Planting her hands on her hips and widening her stance, the woman swept her gaze across the mass of mercenaries in front of her and loudly cleared her throat in preparation to speak.

"For those of you who are unaware, I am Commander Briggs - but just call me Briggs," the woman introduced herself, her face impassive. "I head up the SRS. And while I would usually default to my own forces for a job of this importance, we are unfortunately undermanned at the moment. So, consider this a lucky opportunity to earn some credits for yourselves…"

'Briggs, Briggs…' Ashley wracked her brain for any memory involving the woman addressing the room. The name was hauntingly familiar.

"Before we begin…" Briggs trailed off, planting her hands on the edge of the table so that she could leer over the crowd in front of her. "Everything I'm about to say is to remain secret. If there is any information leak there will be consequences, so keep your mouths shut. Barker?"

"Listen to her," Barker mumbled as he clumsily extracted his flask from his pocket. "If anybody squeals I'm cutting them loose and leaving them to the wolves, no exceptions."

'Briggs…' Ashley continued to wrack her brain for the distant memory. 'Briggs…'

In an instant, the memories came flooding back to Ashley. The woman addressing the room was Sarah Briggs - leader of the Marauder Corps and one of the IMC's most wanted.

One of the biggest thorns in the IMC's side was currently briefing Ashley…

… and she bore a striking resemblance to her image on the wanted posters widely circulated amongst IMC troops.

The sudden realization as to who the woman with the bandana was felt strange. Ashley's time in the IMC felt like a lifetime ago now - perhaps because she just didn't want to remember those days. Before Demeter, Ashley would have jumped at the chance to cut off the head of the snake and claim the bounty on Sarah Briggs' head; but things were different now, and the irony was not lost on the dark haired woman...

"...so let's get down to it," Briggs continued her spiel as Ashley reminisced about the past. "I'd like to apologize for what's about to happen. But I consider it payback on behalf of the ship's janitors, who had to deal with the disaster you rabble left behind in the mess hall last night…"

Tapping a button on the table, the lights of the room dimmed. Moving shutters unfolded on the briefing room's windows, abruptly cutting off any view of the star-strewn void outside.

The surface of the briefing room's long table began to glow as several holographic emitters activated and began casting light. The sudden burst of bright blue light from the holographic emitters elicited a groan from the briefing room's hungover occupants - with several of the mercenaries shielding their eyes with their hands. Commander Briggs visibly smirked at the sight.

After a few moments, the holographic emitters began casting a large moving image. Hovering inches above the table was the simulated image of a planet slowly turning on its axis. The planet had a noticeable axial tilt, leaning so far over that it looked to be almost on its side.

"Aeolus," Commander Briggs spoke aloud. "That's the name of the planet. It's an appropriate moniker, considering that about ninety-five percent of the planet's surface is covered with a perpetual storm."

Ashley fought through the discomfort and squinted her eyes at the projection. It took a moment for the dark haired woman to realize that she could not spot any continents or land masses; the surface of the planet, even the projected simulation, was hidden from view by swirling clouds. Unlike Lyra-1 and its foggy clouds of slowly-swirling moisture, the atmosphere of Aeolus was a violent, ever-churning maelstrom.

"In the Northern hemisphere, wind speeds are so fast that they're lethal," Briggs informed the room. "Thankfully, we're interested in the planet's Southern hemisphere; it's not anymore pleasant, but it is at least survivable by human standards. Tell me, can anybody here spot the eye of the storm?"

After some searching, Ashley found it. Amongst the swirling mass of clouds was a large circular gap around which churned the fastest and most violent winds. As the simulation of the planet continued to turn on its imaginary axis, the eye of the storm was frequently hidden from Ashley's view until the next rotation.

"Let me cut to the chase," Briggs cleared her throat as she paced around the crowded table. "For a long time Militia intelligence believed Aeolus to be uninhabited - which shouldn't be surprising, given the atmospheric conditions. But our recent scouting missions in the space around Aeolus have noted heavy IMC activity near the planet, which has made Militia command incredibly suspicious - myself included."

Briggs, who had been leering over the table up to this point, slowly stood up to full height.

"At first, we overlooked the conditions on Aeolus under the assumption that the IMC would be unable to set up any lasting infrastructure there. But recent studies of the planet's storm and wind conditions indicate that the planet-wide storm should have dissipated, or at least calmed, years ago. This isn't a gas giant we're talking about, there is soil and rock underneath those winds. We now have reason to believe that the storm is being… supported… for lack of a better term… through what Militia researchers have dubbed a 'maelstrom barrier'."

"It's an artificial storm," Barker chimed in before taking a quiet sip from his flask.

"Precisely," Briggs nodded in Barker's direction. "As for why I mentioned the eye of the storm, well, we in the Militia also have reason to believe that the device, or devices, responsible for maintaining this artificial stormfront is located within the eye. It's the only place on the entire planet where infrastructure can be placed - anywhere else, even the most-supported buildings, would be torn apart by the planetary winds-"

"Can I butt-in for a second, Commander Briggs?" Barker asked aloud, even raising his hand in the air as if he was in a classroom.

Briggs regarded Barker with a slight frown. "Shoot."

"Thank you…" Barker grunted as he rose off of the table. "While I do… laud… your very informative presentation so far, I think you're forgetting who this lot are."

Barker visibly pinched and rubbed his fingers together.

"Right," Briggs' face visibly tightened. "Let's talk credits then."

Pacing around the length of the table until she was in her original position, Briggs leaned over the surface and regarded the mercenaries in the room with her stony gaze.

"At this moment, both titan and dropship insertion into the eye of the storm is completely impossible," Briggs frowned. "The atmospheric winds move far too quickly and anything we try to drop in would get ripped apart or thrown off course."

"But!?" Barker called out.

"But," Briggs trailed off for a moment. "We do believe that a high-altitude drop, if timed correctly, could allow us to land some boots on the ground. From that point on, those who made the jump would be tasked with disabling the maelstrom device so that the Militia could land reinforcements onto the surface of Aeolus."

Instantly, the occupants of the briefing room broke out into murmurs.

"Is she crazy?" Nhat muttered, the man sitting by Ashley's side.

Ashley pursed her lips and remained silent.

'Jump into a planetary storm…? Ridiculous…' The dark haired woman thought to herself. "Ridiculous and suicidal…"

"Quiet down everyone!" Barker called out. "Hey, Briggs?"

Barker once again made a motion of rubbing his fingers together.

"Ah, right," Briggs nodded. "We'll need a small team - preferably three to four operators. This position is completely voluntary, I won't and can't in good conscience order any of you to do this. However, there would be a substantial bonus to those who are willing-"

"How much!?" One of the mercenaries - although Ashley wasn't sure who - called out.

Glancing in the man's direction, Commander Briggs' face tightened up before she turned to re-address the room.

"Twenty-five thousand credits," Briggs muttered, her voice lowering in tone and pitch as she carefully enunciated the next word. "Each."

There was a moment of silence - the calm before the storm - before the room erupted into a flurry of voices and motion. Ashley watched, gobsmacked, as her fellow mercenaries leapt from their chairs and loudly pledged themselves to the extremely dangerous role…

… and after only a moment's hesitation, the dark haired woman surged out of her chair and joined the crowd.