Buzz Lightyear of Star Command
Psyche
(Disclaimer: I own nothing from the BLoSC series. Prepare for an older, somewhat wiser, and more cynical Mira, and let this ship sail. NOTE: For repeat readers, there's been a lot of editing done, especially in regards to reducing the more adult content. Honestly, after thinking things over, I found that kind of thing just bogged down the story and characters overall. Anyway, reviews are appreciated, and thank you for your time. Hope you enjoy!)
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If Star Command taught Mira Nova anything besides teamwork, self-sacrifice, and that intergalactic bureaucracy could drive anyone to temporary insanity, it was to observe every bit of her surroundings. Places, people, the tiniest speck of dust—nothing could go overlooked. That seemingly insignificant detail, harmless-looking to all appearances, might make or break a mission, or maybe even turn the whole galaxy on its head.
Ballpoint pens, of all things, made her uneasy now.
No longer a first-year rookie, Mira's mind held a veritable archive of observations on everything and everyone she'd ever met. If the dossiers on her teammates materialized into real files, dozens upon dozens of added scribbles would fill the margins. To whit: Buzz Lightyear, Pride of Star Command, possessed a severe ticklish streak a parsec wide—Who'd've thought?—and held a "d'aww"-inducing love of cats; Booster could stop and pine over any image of Vicki Vortex without taking a single shot from heavy Hornet fire; and XR floundered when speaking, typing, or writing in French—three huge slaps in the faces of computer science and robotics considering the multiple upgrades to his linguistics programs.
Next came Star Command's enemies, but the common sense displayed by standard Ranger protocol dictated Mira gather and retain intel on the Rangers' rogues' gallery anyway. So, of course, when one of the Galactic Alliance's Most Wanted acted heroic—dare Mira use the term—observing the action at every single angle turned paramount.
Buzz Lightyear and Warp Darkmatter: best friends and partners for years, their bond crushed by the revelation of Warp's long-standing allegiance to Zurg. Small wonder the former friends now held each other in high contempt, their clashes almost always generating contests to see who would pull off the best one-up (and particularly in Warp's case, get away with it.)
So, Darkmatter's first alliance with Buzz of his own free will astonished everyone involved, but as Mira remarked later, Warp would do anything to save his own skin. However, when Natron's attempted ascension recreated the Lightyear/Darkmatter partnership—more, when they both called an amiable-seemingly temporary truce following the tyrant's defeat—a certainty formed in Mira's mind. Her captain and Zurg's top hired-gun would fight side-by-side again, and she needed to see it.
Something more than coincidence proved her right, for she saw the impending alliance occur repeatedly.
"Buzz-Lightyear-and-Warp-Darkmatter-to-the-Rescue" didn't happen everyday, of course. Warp would either find himself executed or given an extended stay in one of the Evil Emperor's choice torture chambers if aiding "CURSE-YOU-BUZZ-LIGHTYEEEEAAAAHHHHRR" formed a habit. Yet, every so often, the ex-partners' goals somehow coincided enough that one abetted the other. A roguish smirk; an appreciative laugh; a brief glint of nostalgia—maybe; on rare occasions, a verbal hark back to "the old days"; and on even rarer occasions, another truce. Mira observed these hints and more, with her mental cataloging system filing them away one by one.
All those little bits made her wonder. Did Warp Darkmatter still hold some genuine camaraderie with Buzz despite serving Zurg for over two decades? Was Buzz's unwavering faith in his former friend renouncing his villainy and making permanent amends misplaced?
On Mira's end, the philosophical debates turned into endless, unsolvable, niggling bothers, but she refused to let them interrupt her work. Instead, she saved them for the days when her father—or rather, the Tangean Royal Court collective—required her presence during "imperative" social functions.
Not long after, she realized she chose the most appropriate setting for nitpicking Darkmatter's rather warped personality quirks.
0000
An "imperative" social function among the Royal Court of Planet Tangea. What an oxymoron; no royal Tangean gathering evolved into anything more than a mass hub for gossip and strutting worthy of peacocks.
While simultaneously loathing her frumpy and restrictive ballgown, Princess Mira Nova tried her best in feigning legitimate interest at her current group's topic of conversation. She listened long enough to learn they entertained too-long-kept-quiet opinions on some other nobles across the ball room…and her memory stopped there. Oh, she kept eye-contact, made committal sounds, nodded, and laughed when necessary, but her mind floated above the focus of her father's guests.
One noble sporting a pompadour haircut made a very unflattering comparison between Tangean Grounders and Jo-Ads, and the flock surrounding him laughed at the sentiment. Hiding her frown behind her wineglass, Mira nursed on the Warp & Buzz Paradox instead of her fellows' prejudice. Hopefully, her much more noble pursuit would keep her cup of social exhaustion from running over, let alone her wine.
The princess took the next opening to excuse herself, giving the flock the proper amount of farewell etiquette so they'd release her peacefully. Weaving through the crowd, Mira headed straight for the buffet table, grabbed one of each utensil, and filled a plate with sliced, spiced, chilled, braised, and candied fruits and vegetables—treats the Tangean chefs served by the labors of the friendly, hardworking, and generous Jo-Ad people.
She sighed. "Easy, Mira. Getting venomous isn't going to help here..."
Hoping to counteract her frowning lips and furrowing brow—expressions "improper for royalty"—she speared a fruit block and stuffed it into her mouth.
"Man, what did that poor piece of bunzel do to you?"
Mira chewed and swallowed before turning toward the newcomer Tangean. His plain but immaculate white tux—a far cry from the elaborate robes and gowns parading around—caught her eye off the bat, and she wondered how the guards saw fit to let him in at all.
"Enjoying the view, milady?"
Annoyance brought Mira back to reality. When she met the stranger's gaze, her jaw tightened at the amusement carousing through his dark blue eyes.
"My face usually stays up here, 'case Your Highness might be interested."
"Your Highness is very much aware of that, thank you," Mira replied, setting down her glass to flick a speck of fuzz from her sleeve. "If you must know, my interest—as you so delicately put it—is in your manner of dress. Did you bribe the guards into letting you in, or did they suddenly go blind when I wasn't looking?"
The stranger smirked. "Oh, they gave me the stink eye to be sure, Your Majesty, but rest assured, I won them over with my charming personality—and legitimate credentials. Let's not forget about those."
"I should hope not." A headache bloomed behind Mira's eyes, and she sighed while pinching the bridge of her nose. "Ugh, such stamina you wield, Princess Nova. It's not even half-past the time teenagers start sneaking out of their second-story bedrooms..."
"Our fellow members of the social elite are wearing their welcome a little thin, I take it?"
Mira took another sip of fruit juice and mulled over her reflection in the glass. "About as thin as my patience for the overly curious."
The stranger laughed. "Touché. It appears Your Majesty's tongue is as sharp here as at Star Command."
"You know, it's funny―"
"I agree."
Mira set her drink down again and poleaxed a melon slice with her fork. "You wanna let me finish?"
"Please, by all means. You have my full permission to complete your sentence, princess."
Princess Nova's face creased with frown and furrow, and she twisted the melon slice into a tight spiral.
"As I was saying," she continued, "you seem pretty familiar with me—a little too familiar for my tastes—but though you started this bold conversation, you've yet to introduce yourself properly."
"Oh, my." The unnamed, smirking Tangean swirled the juice tinting his own glass red. "Scandalous."
"Okay, I'm sorry—well, a-actually I'm, I'm not sorry; i-if you were less rude, then maybe―"
"And you were elocuting so well…"
"Okay, have we met somewhere? Ever? For longer than two stellar minutes? I highly doubt I'd forget a guy as aggravating as you, and that's saying something with this crowd."
"Aw, if I knew I'd irritate you that much, I would've introduced myself earlier." Whoever-He-Was flashed a wolfish grin at Mira's frustrated growl. "As for the whole 'us-meeting-somewhere-before' thing, I highly doubt anyone from Team Lightyear would forget my introductions for a nanosecond."
During the last few words, his voice changed from a smooth tenor to a smug bass. The fingers of his right hand tapped the buffet table, and Mira's ears pricked at a metallic rat-a-tat-tat. Glancing down, she first saw a blue-skinned Tangean hand, but said hand shimmered like mist and dissolved into a mechanical claw.
She took a better look at the man's face. With grim steadiness, details—an angular jaw, close-cropped haircut, eye teeth sharper than any normal Tangean's—clicked into place.
A chill shot up Mira's spine. She almost dropped her plate. Behind her, the sounds of the party faded, leaving her standing alone and unarmed with Warp Darkmatter.
Several facts peppered Mira's mind at once. No weapons plus no backup equaled slim chances of handling Darkmatter one-on-one, and he'd be a fool if he took no defensive measures against her Tangean powers. Besides, if a fight broke out here, she'd risk dozens of civilian lives or her own from their panic alone; no Fop Doppler attended tonight's event. She might expect some help from her father…but that possibility vanished faster than it came. The guards would evacuate King Nova first and foremost, and she'd be on her own again.
Mira could alert the guards quietly, telepathically… No; if Warp slipped past Tangean security—and phase somehow, to enter in the first place—no doubt he also planted destructive insurance across the palace. No potential capture was worth an aftermath paid in what could be innocent lives.
No matter what strategy she considered, it produced a dead end. Murmuring, "I hate you so much, Darkmatter," Mira accepted defeat and bit a chunk out of her melon slice.
Warp restored his disguise. "Smart call, princess, and if I had a nickel for every time somebody said―"
"What do you want, Warp?" Mira kept her voice low and her telepathic wavelength steady through sheer willpower. "The last thing Tangea had to offer Zurg was the Starthought, and I don't think either of us gained any important information chatting up the nobles tonight."
Warp snorted. "You got that right. Besides, what? A guy can't get gussied-up incognito and gate-crash a party just to enjoy the spoils of the high class?"
"Says the man who owns an entire moon and an asteroid summer home."
Chuckling, Warp picked up a whole fruit, cut it open with one claw, and used a spoon to scoop out some insides. He nearly bit into it but checked himself, taking a cautious sniff.
"Afraid we'd poison our own dinner, Darkmatter?"
"Nope. Just making sure this is jackfruit and not durian. Can't stand the stuff." Warp sniffed one more time, ate the fruit, and smiled. "Jackfruit. Good deal."
"Bad experience, I take it?"
"Eh, Star Command cadets used to bring their own ingredients to lunch break—trying to 'improve' the menu. Also doubled as a teensy little hazing process from the years ahead of us; they loved betting on who'd start heaving first." Warp's nose wrinkled. "Found out the hard way that durians do not belong anywhere near tacos. Haven't been able to eat tacos since."
"Gross!"
"Heh, you should've been there when we tried boiled Moozle blood snow cones. Oh, man, the kitchen and janitorial staff hated us that day… Come to think of it, we hated us that day."
Mira's appetite committed ritual suicide. "E-e-ew, okay, that's-that's more than enough info for me, thank you."
"Aw, but you'll miss the best part," Warp baited her, his toothy smile returning.
"I don't wanna know the 'best part'!"
"Not even if I told you that Ty Parsec was the only one of us who stomached literally everything we tried?"
Mira's stomach settled. "Wait. 'Needed-Saving-By-Buzz-Lightyear-Fifty-One-Times' Ty Parsec? He could eat that stuff without throwing up his guts?"
"Yup. Turns out he also has, or had, a stomach of titanium. While the rest of us bolted for the nearest trash unit, he stayed at the table and kept everything down, even stuff worse than the snow cones."
"You're kidding, and please don't fill me in on what was worse."
"I kid you not, and don't worry, princess, I made sure the bulk of those memories were happily repressed years ago." Warp refilled his drink. "Still, you should've seen him, or heard him; he went all connoisseur on us. 'Hmm, chewy, very chewy, but I think if you applied more tenderization, you might have something here. And the sour aftertaste actually compliments the pungent flavor very well.'" With his "Tangean" voice, Darkmatter's impression of Ty landed right on the money—poor Ty. "'I'd add a few more drops of bunzel vinegar—not too many or you'll turn the flavor far too bitter.'"
For the first time that entire evening, Mira laughed. Despite the fact she tolerated Agent Z's presence and spoke civilly with him by the merest logical threads, she found herself…enjoying his company.
What in Saturn's rings was she thinking? Every Space Ranger instinct screamed at her to remain on high alert, to keep her ears peeled for every rhetorical snare she knew. Warp wanted her to spill something from this conversation, but of what that might be, Mira possessed no idea. So far, he flapped his jaw much more than she…
"Ah, Mira, there you are."
Her father's voice turned Princess Nova away from the major trespasser in the palace. "Is something the matter, Father?"
"My dear, you've not made your complete rounds this evening; many of the guests are becoming impatient." King Nova, certainly not recognizing Warp Darkmatter at the moment, gave the Tangean wearing a common white tuxedo a critical once-over. "Is this another…friend of yours from Star Command? Odd that we've never been introduced considering he looks like one of ours."
Inside, Mira shook her head; King Nova's prejudice always reared its ugly head among the nobles.
Prompted by an arched, kingly eyebrow, she not-quite-lied, "Ah, y-yes, Father. He lives off-world, and-and we've met h-here and there…"
"Mira, how many times must I remind you to control that stutter? It's incredibly unbecoming, and you should tell me when you've invited anyone from outside the palace proper. Now," King Nova spared Warp a brief glance, "it's very nice to meet you, young man, but my daughter and I have other pressing engagements to attend. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your night."
"You have my humble thanks, Your Highness." Worryingly, Mira saw no seam in Warp's façade while he bowed first to the king and then to her. "Princess Nova, it was a pleasure; and thank you for your time. We can save our conversation for some later day."
Much later, like never later, Mira hoped, letting her father shepherd her away.
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Thankfully, nothing worse than sharing space and conversing with a dangerous criminal took place that night. Upon returning to Star Command, Mira reported Warp's appearance on Tangea and their chat. Commander Nebula, while infuriated at the outlaw's audacity, commended her for not doing anything rash and ordered the comms officers to conference him with King Nova.
Buzz heard the report second, and he all but interrogated Mira onboard 42 during Team Lightyear's return trip to Tangea. His concern soon shifted to reminiscence tinged with deep regret, but Mira dared not open his wounds any further by prying deeper into his and Warp's former friendship.
Although, Buzz confirmed that, yes, Ty Parsec's sense of taste might indeed be worthy of Dr. Furbanna's studies on Karn.
Once on Tangea, Mira and the others scanned the palace to its tiniest atom and found over three dozen traps on standby mode. Then, when XR interfaced the computer systems and accessed the security programs, his team's expectant silence shattered suddenly with:
"Whoa, whoa, WHA—?"
A violent tremor ran through XR's body. Epileptic patterns of colors and static blitzed through his optics, and sparks popped from his hard drive. Then, in the middle of the fit, out of his voice box came:
"Hush little Lightyear, don't say a word!
You're the biggest joke that Zurg's ever heard!
And if that little insult doesn't sting,
When it comes to fat heads, well, yours is king!
And when your shiny gold medals all turn to rust,
Don't worry 'cause your rep's always been a bust!"
Buzz, Mira, and Booster yanked XR from the interface panel. For two hours after that—the exact time his defense and cleaning programs took to clear out the viruses, malware, and spyware attacking his hard-drive—the poor bot struggled forming a coherent sentence that didn't start with an insult against Buzz.
Mira almost swore she heard Darkmatter laughing his blue butt off from his lunar paradise, or Planet Z, or wherever the gate-crashing son of a gut-sucking egg devil skulked now.
Ultimately, the day ended with a complete wipe and reboot of the Tangean palace's mainframe. Before that, the Rangers aided King Nova with tripling the guards and non-computerized security measures, and they re-identified every noble. Soon, their DNA, retinal, fingerprint, and mental wavelength signature sat newly archived within a black box terminal alterable by two people: the king and princess of Tangea.
"The rogue would be an imbecile to try and waltz in here again," King Nova declared, and not without reason. After the extensive measures taken, Mira knew she should feel the same confidence and safety.
So, why didn't she?