Finally, winter break! It would have been slightly more cheery if I got accepted EA to MIT (deferred ;_:) but even so, I get tons and tons of time to do fic writing and visit people and all of that interesting stuff. Anyways, enjoy; new chapters should be up in 3-4 day intervals for the next couple weeks.
Also, dialogue, dialogue everywhere.
Chapter 25: Homeward Bound
"Do you have any pictures?" a tired-looking Latias asked. She took a draught out of her canteen, narrowing her eyes as she looked up into the daytime sun.
Shadrach shifted in his plastic chair, tossing his PokeNav out onto the middle of the table littered with paper plates of food. He was thankfully resting in the shade below the eaves of what he assumed to be a Riyaqan coffee joint. If they had been in civilian clothing, they could have easily been college students talking over a few cups of iced coffee. Of course, that illusion would be more believable if a tank or truck didn't roll by every minute or so.
Siria took the PokeNav and began to look through its image libraries. She scrolled past several pictures of their old dorm room, a gallery of weapons that the government "promised" to purchase for Special Forces, a couple snapshots of her...
The bright, warm colors then subsided to shades of gray and brown as she saw a completely different scene: about ten or so wooden ammunition boxes laid haphazardly (and quite dangerously, she thought) in a pile before a small fire. Straining her eyes, she managed to pick out the insignia stamped on one of the lids cast in the picture taker's shadow.
The Umbreon watched her surprised reaction, grinning slightly into the china cup of tea the shop owner was kind enough to supply to him. "That's the gist of it. Mirunas is trying to attack us, no doubt."
"But why? I knew that we were at odds with them, but not to the point where they would fund an entire militia to war against our government." She frowned at a particularly shaky picture, as if the Umbreon had staggered when he took it. "And what is this?" she asked as she turned the screen towards him.
He pointed at his bandaged leg. "I got shot, but it's fine." He waved off her concerned expression. "And why? The better question is, why not? Mirunas is a landlocked nation, meaning no ports and harbors to receive major trade. It's running out of the basic resources like water and land, and to further complicate things, its population is booming. We, on the other hand, got lucky. Half of Halcyia borders the sea, we have trade connections with every major nation around, and we have enough resources to sustain probably a hundred-fifty percent population jump. Our political ideologies might be similar, yes, but when it comes down to feeding starving citizens, what else can you do? It's a bargain for more land and territory in the end. I can understand where they're coming from, really."
"They couldn't appeal for aid?" Levina pointedly asked as she tore a piece of bread in half. "Why would they start a proxy war instead of just asking? And why not challenge us directly instead of using Tamsus, at that?"
"What other nations do you know would lend Mirunas aid? Or attack the strongest military power in the region? And who would want to be known for starting a flat-out war, especially in this day and age? Our own government's already giving infusions to Mirunas despite tensions between us, but other states aren't pitching in. The last thing they need to do is sink their money into something that'll never pay them back."
"But I'm sure they'd pay for global stability, at the very least."
Shadrach snorted. "They know that when Mirunas collapses," he said, putting much emphasis on when, "They won't be the ones dealing with them. We'll have to deal with cleaning everything up because of our proximity and perceived "wealth," so they see it as strengthening their positions by not burning money up and weakening ours because we have to deal with an anarchistic, poverty-stricken state. It's politicking at its best."
"That's depressing," Sirius said. He had stayed quiet the entire time because he felt that politics was not his best area of expertise (it wasn't).
"Well, what do you want to do about it? It's what the powers that be decided, and these are the results." He looked down the street and nodded at a demolished apartment building. A family pawed through the remains, trying to find whatever was left of their past life.
"They play, we pay. In the end, it's the civilians and those who don't have anything to do with it that get killed. I don't want to be in this any longer, but I wouldn't be living up to my rhetoric if I quit." He forced out a dour smile.
"But why," Siria asked, "Why would the government not come out and accuse Mirunas directly?"
"I don't know. If I had to guess, it would be because of lack of sufficient evidence. We don't have the hard proof to argue. Either that or backroom talks that nobody knows about. Wouldn't put it past them."
Nobody spoke any more of the subject. They were all grateful that they could get at least a day off after they finished recapturing Riyaq, and they were determined to use it in the most unproductive and laziest way possible. Usually, they wouldn't have had such an apathetic attitude, but they were absolutely drained from the last mission.
Some bickering from across the street attracted whatever little attention they had. Looking across the dusty street, they saw a Walrein looking quite miffed at a Froslass shouting at him.
"What do you think her problem is?" Levina asked.
"I don't know, but she doesn't look too happy, and neither does the major." Shadrach got up from his seat, feeling the heat of the sun immediately begin to beat down on him as he walked over to the argument.
"But you have to stage the invasion now of all times?" the ghost-type asked, levitating in the air to meet the Walrein eye-to-eye.
The Walrein shrugged and shook his head. "Luna, I'll tell you what I told you before: I wasn't the one who issued orders for the attack. You'll have to look elsewhere for your problems. Now, excuse me. I have 'mon to coordinate, as do you." He left the Froslass hanging as he stepped aside and walked away from her.
Obviously furious, she turned to see an Umbreon walking up towards her. "You!" she spat, recognizing him from before. "You must know something!"
"What?"
"Why did the Army invade last night? Do you have any idea of how many casualties there were? How many innocents were killed? How much damage was done? How much-"
"Listen," Shadrach said, "To be honest, I don't know of what has happened since yesterday. I just do what the brass tells us to do. Like the major said, you're better off looking in the higher echelons for answers."
"'What the brass tells us to do,'" she fixatedly repeated. "Well, what did they tell you to do?"
"That's classified. Why should I tell you?"
"Because as the representative of the RM's, I demand so!"
"Sorry, but that's not how it works. Ask our field officers that. I don't have the paperwork or authority to do anything."
As he turned to leave, the ice-type shouted, "One hundred and thirteen! Does that mean anything to you? One hundred and thirteen dead civilians! The Army is responsible for this! Do you think I buy that war rhetoric, to unite under one flag and charge forth? You're killing our own! You're killing Halcyian civilians!"
Shadrach slowly turned back to face the fuming Froslass. "We're responsible? Well, if you put it that way, we're responsible."
"So you admit it!"
"But don't talk to me about casualties. Do you know how many casualties we've registered? For every ten 'mon we sent in, four are either critically injured or dead! Have you considered this, Luna? Everybody loses, not just the civilians!"
It wasn't possible for the Froslass' face to get any redder with anger. "You dare make civilians insignificant? Arceus, they were helpless! They couldn't defend themselves! Those that you lost were battle-hardened, ready to make their assault and ready to die. And you stand here and tell me that civilian deaths are nothing? Do you intend to make a mockery of me? Answer me!"
Shadrach took a deep breath as he prepared his retort. A couple of trucks, filled with infantry, had stopped to listen to the shout-out. His other three squadmates lingered farther back, but he knew that their dialogue was more than audible from that distance.
"I'm sorry for the fact that there were so many civilian losses," he began, "But the point I was trying to make was that it's selfish of you to just consider civilian deaths. Yes, civilians may have died, but what have they done to secure this city? I don't blame them for their inaction, but we soldiers have fought tooth and nail to liberate them. And you have the nerve to berate me on civilian deaths?"
"Hey, lady!" one of the soldiers on the trucks yelled. "Put yourself in our shoes for a sec, and you might change your mind!"
"You got no right to be telling us how to go around! Why don't you try recapturing a city one day?"
As the 'mon began to jeer, Shadrach nodded. "We fought hard to liberate these civilians. We fought hard so that this place can be peaceful again. If I had it my way, there would be no deaths. Just surrenders. But this is war, and war is messy. Civilian casualties are just a consequence, a brutal consequence. I'm sorry, but I can't change that."
"How can you say that so coldly? Talking about killing as if it's a technical sport?"
Shadrach laughed, much to her ire. "Because I'd go mad if I considered the life that each dead 'mon lived. Do you want to know something?"
"What?" she asked icily.
"You're lucky. You're very lucky. The nightmare is already over for you. You can start to rebuild now. There's no more bloodshed or death in your city; Tamsus continues to retreat south. But me? I have to live this thing to the very end. I have to kill more and destroy more and draw more blood. You have none of that, so take your position and be grateful that you still exist. You're probably wishing I'm dead, I'm sure," he said, looking into her glaring yellow eyes. "The thing you don't understand is that the chances of me actually dying tomorrow are high. So sorry that I don't see the world the way you do."
The troops in the trucks cheered as he walked back to the cafe. The Froslass, too stunned and angry for words, turned heel and stalked off away from the commotion.
The Umbreon sighed as he retook his seat. "Wow," he said. "That felt really good."
"But was it right to be so cold to her?" Siria immediately asked. "She does have an obligation to protect her civilians, and the emotions she gave off more than suggests that she took it personally."
"It's either that or take her complaints to a higher court and just be fed more lies and bullshit," he said. "I'm simply setting everything straight for her."
"Ignorance is bliss," Levina said, setting down her cup. "Wouldn't it have been better to leave her alone instead of shooting down her world-view?"
"Because the thing we want most in the city we just freed is an incompetent leader."
An awkward silence fell between the four of them. Another tank rolled by, kicking up volumes of dust as the treads creaked loudly.
"I'll think I'll take the stuff back in now," Sirius said. The other three soundlessly surrendered their plates, still deep in thought about the argument that had just transpired.
Nuwai had to admit that flying felt great. For the first... no, second time in her life, she felt the cool wisps of air flowing around her entire body. The first time was when Sirius had flown her over some time ago.
She looked down at the snow-white peaks of the mountains below her, adjusting her fins ever so slightly to get a better view of them. Flying felt incredibly natural to her for some reason; she had expected to have tried for months to do it, but the opposite was true.
That thought left her mind as she glumly considered the cargo she carried underneath her: a pine wood coffin and a extremely large rock. She was impressed by the amount of weight she could now ferry as well; as a Gabite, she would have staggered just at the thought of carrying so much.
There! Seeing a small ledge hidden in the darkness of a valley, she dove down towards it. The air whistled loudly as it gave way to her mass, making her wonder if she could accelerate to the speed that Sirius could. She didn't want to experiment now, though.
She hovered over the ledge ever so slightly before firmly planting her feet on the rock. The Garchomp looked carefully into the cavern it led into before entering it. As she began walking, she gazed at the walls. At first, there were a few scratches in the sandstone, but they seemed to multiply as she continued inside.
She finally reached the end of the cavern. The back wall was marred beyond recognition; she wondered if she could even consider it a wall, with all of its pock marks and jagged edges. A small circle made of stones laid before it. It held several branches and twigs, firewood left over from a time she could hardly recall.
Nuwai blew a gentle Dragonbreath on it, kindling and nursing a small fire to full health. As it gave off a warm glow, she set the coffin and the rock down. She sat on one of the impromptu stone "seats" that she rested upon years before.
Now that there was light, she began to better acquaint herself with the room. She remembered it as the training chamber where she and Talal would always go when she demanded so. That was until a few years ago, when the aged 'mon fell prey to an illness he never quite recovered from. It was no easy task to hike miles and miles to reach this spot. She felt slightly guilty that she took the easy way and flew, but her conscience relented when she considered the reason for finally coming back.
She looked at the ground. The stone returned her gaze, and almost seemed to cower slightly as she raised a talon at it.
She got up and laid herself flat on the ground. The ground crackled as she ran a claw down it, leaving a slight score in the stone. She then blew on it with Dragonbreath, deepening the crack an inch or so.
Nuwai knew that the coffin was about two feet tall, but she didn't shy away from the task she was doing. As she began the process over with another edge, she smiled slightly, thinking of what her current situation was.
The RM leader (Luna? she thought) was furious at those who assisted the Halcyian Army in the invasion of the city. She had been mad especially at her because she evolved, which communicated to her the violence and bloodshed she must have incurred to gain so much experience. What the Froslass had said about Talal and Ward hadn't been too nice, either. She wouldn't even honor her request to give Talal a proper burial.
So now as she began to pulverize some rock, Nuwai reasoned that this was the best honor she could give Talal. It was the only honor that she could give him.
As she continued her laborious digging, her talons started to dull and her mind started to tire. Her determination, though, continued to burn strong, and she pushed onward.
After three hours, she observed the grave she had dug. Her claws definitely lost the luster they had when she first arrived, but she didn't care. It was worth it to her.
She morosely lowered the coffin into the grave, crying softly as she did so, not stopping to wipe the tears away as she began to scoop gravel back into the hole. Seeing that the grave was nearly full, she took a bag off her back and poured the soil within over the uneven rocks. It wouldn't do any good for Talal's last home to look so haphazardly done, after all.
Nuwai took a few steps back and looked. A rectangular mound of dark brown dirt contrasted by tan sandstone was all she saw.
She then turned her attention to the large rock she had brought along and unsheathed her talons. The dragon stared at it, analyzing the areas that jutted out and focusing on how she wanted it to appear. Concentrate.
The uneven edges of the stone seemed to slide off as she expertly flashed her claws at it. A thin, rectangular slab remained in place, corners cut absolutely perfectly through the Garchomp's technique.
I did it, Sirius, I did it! She grinned foolishly at the fact that the Latios wasn't there to see. Not that she wanted him to see her in this state anyways.
She now began the hardest part of her mission. Digging the grave didn't daunt her; burying the body wasn't as hard; but this was something different.
Her claw jerked on the tablet's surface as she tried to restrain her tears. It was difficult for her to write the message because she knew it would be the last time she would ever know the senior Tropius. It pained her to draw her claw downwards to finish the L that rested to the right of that A.
The stone surface grew damp as she continued to inscribe her message. Each score she drew pained her deeply, nearly forcing her to cease the attempt. But she soldiered on, knowing that she wouldn't forgive herself if she quit now. The foreign phrase Talal had murmured to her on cold nights rang strongly in her mind. It fits well, she thought dourly.
Finally finished, she lifted the tablet up slowly and set it in the loamy surface of Talal's grave. She stared at it for a moment before turning her back and quietly retreating back outside. She contemplated collapsing the entrance, but then decided against it. Perhaps later, years from now, she would make another pilgrimage to honor him once again. Perhaps she would pay her respects one more time.
Sparing one last glance at the cavern, Nuwai jumped off the ledge and flew into the air.
Here lies Talal.
221st RM Div.
Father. Mentor. Protector. Peacemaker.
Tantum inferi finem belli viderunt.
"So, a week off? I can't say that I'm not envious." Shadrach looked at the Latias before him, watching as the wind continuously whipped her hair back. The transport truck ran slowly in the convoy, nearly at its destination in the Drake Mountains.
"Yeah. I guess the Army knows that we'll eventually crack if we don't get some liberty," Siria agreed. "I just wish that you could come with us..."
"Me too." He let out a low sigh. "But when we finally get back, we'll be together working in 'the job.'" He air-quoted his reference to HTR.
She smirked. "Yeah, and Sirius will be left all alone with Levina. Isn't that right, brother?" She couldn't help but grin at the groan that escaped the poor Latios sitting next to her.
"I have to be left with her. Alone. In a new squad. Do you want me to be dead?"
"Well, maybe if you'd stop acting like a retard and stop hitting on me," the Ampharos shot back acidly.
Sirius laughed. "Where's the fun in that? You have to admit that it's hilarious sometimes."
"No."
"But-"
"No."
"Not even time the time when-"
"No."
"Something has to give!" he complained, scratching his head in confusion. "How about..."
"Oh, Arceus," Siria groaned. She knew exactly what was coming next.
"I'll never need to see the sun again because your eyes light up my-"
THWACK.
Levina unclenched her fist and stared at the dragon sprawled on the floor of the truck.
"Wow. I knew he had bad pickup lines, but that...?" Siria made eye contact with Levina before they both broke down into hysterics.
Sirius dragged himself back onto the seat. "I thought it was good! I mean, I used 'light,' and she's an electric-type, and, yeah, and... I'll shut up now."
"So you said something about a new squad?" the Latias asked, still snickering slightly from Sirius' abysmal attempt.
Levina shot a glare at the Latios. "Yeah, apparently. Retard and I are going to lead the RMs that we had, Din and Jul and Nuwai. That Froslass cut loose all of those who worked with us, I guess. What a bitter bitch."
Siria blinked. "She really did that?"
"Yeah. Got the news a few hours prior to Shadrach's shouting contest with her. You flat-out won, by the way," she said, nudging the Umbreon next to her.
He gave a humorless grin. "You say that as if it's a good thing."
"What, it's not?"
"Maybe. If anything, I'm probably going to get written up for offending a high-level figure in public. I don't really care, though."
"Yeah..." Siria nodded as the truck finally came to a stop.
"FOB Fearow 'mon, get out! Next stop, FOB Archer," the driver shouted into the back. Siria and Sirius remained sitting as most of the other soldiers began to load out of the back. Their other two squadmates also remained put until the last one left.
"Well, I'll miss you," Shadrach said. He hugged the Latias and gave her a quick kiss before pulling away.
"I will too."
The Umbreon, not one for soppy goodbyes, jumped out onto the snow. Levina lingered behind.
"See ya, Siria. Keep your retard of a brother in check."
"Hey!"
"I can't say that I won't be a bit disappointed if he doesn't come back in one piece, so try at least." She laughed as she too left the truck bed.
They weren't given a moment alone before other 'mon began to fill the conspicuously friendless space on the truck. Sirius seized his sister's arm and dragged her along with their duffel bags to the seats nearest the the front of the truck.
"What gives?" she asked, irritated by his treatment of her.
He smiled. "Just wait."
"Last call! No one?" A momentary pause. "Alright then. Destination: FOB Archer!" The truck began to belch black smoke as it resumed the journey out of the forward base's gates.
Fifteen minutes into the ride, Sirius suddenly grunted as he rummaged through his bag. He produced two packs of cigarettes, much to Siria's ire.
"You smoke?" she asked incredulously, raising a hand in preparation.
"Not really. Watch." He then stuck his head into the window separating the truck's hold from the cab. A Mightyena and a Blaziken looked surprisingly at him as he slid the packs into the latter's breast pocket.
"Hey, Blaziken. Two packs of cigs and you never saw us on the truck." The dragon knew that he was an avid smoker; he would always light up whenever the convoy stopped at a destination.
The fire-type looked oddly at him for a moment before grinning. "Sure thing."
Sirius shivered slightly as he saw the blackened interior of the Blaziken's mouth. He returned to the hold, where Siria gave him a very strange look.
"Siria, get your stuff on. We're leaving."
"Leaving?"
"Flying out of here. I'd rather do that than wait for a plane at Archer." He snapped his duffel bag flat against his back.
"Wait, but-" She quickly understood what had transpired in the truck cab.
"C'mon."
Siria started to voice her dissent as she looked around at the others. "No, wait-"
Too late. Sirius already lifted off, taking advantage of the lack of a canvas cover to fly straight upwards. Torn between looking like a fool and violating military law, she picked the latter as she too flew upwards from the truck to meet her brother. The truck grew smaller and smaller as she finally met Sirius in the air.
"What was that?" she angrily asked.
He rolled his eyes. "You really want to spend hours and hours cooped up on a plane when we can just fly?"
"No, but-"
"Alright then." He smirked.
"How are we going to make arrangements with the airport at home? We can't just fly in or anything. Flying into city airspace is illegal, and we need tickets to land at the airport."
"Taken care of." The Latios flashed a pair of white, barcoded slips at her.
"Where did you get those?"
"Long time ago, before we left on our last deployment."
"The date on there's long gone."
He pointed downwards as he began to descend. As Siria followed, she could hear through the whistle of the air, "I got one of your friends to change some stuff up for me in the servers."
Great. And now I'm responsible for hacking, too. She knew the argument was lost, though, and only sighed as they touched the grassy ground.
"See, I'm not the only one who can plan," he said, winking at her.
"Yeah, right. Why are we here, anyways?"
"Change out into civilian clothes. These tickets aren't for military personnel."
"You want me to change here?" she asked indignantly. She waved at the miles' worth of grassland.
Sirius smirked, already having worked on a pair of jeans. "Oh, please, as if anyone's going to see you. You think I'd try to peek?" he asked as he turned away from her.
Disgruntled, she replied, "Wouldn't doubt it." True to her concerns, she slipped into a t-shirt and track pants as quickly as possible, constantly keeping an eye on the Latios before her.
"Done?" he asked.
"Yes."
He snickered as he looked at her shirt. "Oh, that's not nerdy at all."
"What?"
"What the hell does that even say?"
"What part of 'DeltF = (DEz/Df - DEy/Df)i + (Dx/Dz - DEz/Dx)j + (DEy/Dx - DEx/Dy)k' don't you understand?'" she said after looking down at her shirt. "The curl of a vector function."
Sirius sighed and shook his head. "You couldn't have gone plain, could you?"
"Better than having a freaking little Rapidash at the top left of my shirt."
"Whatever."
Laughing, Siria looked at the sky. The sun shone unobstructed in the pale blue sky, perfect conditions for a long-distance trip.
"When's the last time you flew a long way?" her brother asked.
"The last time? Well, that would be... that time."
Sirius' jaw visibly hardened.
"It's fine, Sirius, it's fine."
"Yeah, but-"
"Besides," she said, playfully punching him on the shoulder, "It's not as if I came back empty-handed, you know."
His mien instantly lit up. "Oh, that's right! You got a new boooooooyfr-"
SLAP.
"So," Siria said as the Latios staggered off to the side. "Home, huh? I wonder if it's changed..."
The Latias grimaced at the mixture of airplanes and flying-types clouding the airspace of the airport below her. "Sirius, do not screw this up. I don't want to get picked up again."
"Why not? The cops usually treat us nicely."
"Sirius."
"Fine, fine."
She strained her eyes and blinked when she saw a green light pierce the mild cloud cover. "Let's go," she said, diving down towards the landing pad. Sirius quickly followed her lead.
"Entry passes, please," an orderly Swellow asked. Sirius gave her the tickets.
"Thank you, Siria and Sirius Long. Proceed to Terminal Five." She curtly waved them off and switched on the green light again.
Siria gave the Swellow a dirty look as they walked off the tarmac. "What's up with her?"
"Busy day, perhaps." He then coughed. "Or maybe it's this smog. You'd think they figure out how to cut down on it by now."
As they walked into the terminal, they saw a Flareon in fatigues waiting at a baggage claim, undoubtedly searching for his luggage. He reached for a bag, only to be shoved out of the way by an angry Crawdaunt.
"That's my luggage. Not yours. What makes you think that you can just take my shit?"
"Sir, I'm sorry. It looked a lot like mine-"
"You think that just 'cause you're in uniform, you can take whatever you want? Fuck off, baby killer." The soldier stood there gaping as the water-type stormed off.
"That's it," Sirius said, cracking his knuckles. "I'm going to beat the-"
"Cool it," his sister said. She painfully looked at the fire-type as he morosely returned to staring at the turnstile. "It's not worth it to get into a fight here."
A shout from the other end of the room attracted their attention. A civilian punched the Crawdaunt in the side of the face.
"You piece of shit!" they heard him scream as two security officers dragged him away. "Who the fuck do you think you are? They serve us! They protect us! They..." His shouts grew inaudible as the escorts rounded the corner.
Siria saw that some of the bystanders cheer slightly for the arrested 'mon while others watched with blank stares.
"YOU GET THAT MOTHERFUCKER!" she heard Sirius roar. "GET HIM GO-"
"Let's go," Siria firmly said, pulling him away as he pumped a fist into the air. They walked through the sliding doors out onto the sidewalk, where more than just a few taxis awaited them. She chose one of them, and ushered the Latios in before her.
The Alakazam looked back at them. "Where to?"
Siria frowned as her brother gave the address. She knew that there were those who strongly opposed to the war, but ones as acerbic as the Crawdaunt...?
"Siria, what the hell was up with him?" he asked. "We weren't treated that rudely the last time we got back."
She sighed. "I don't know. That guy was a complete bastard, though. I never felt so much... hate come out of someone before."
"Baby killer, huh? Maybe if he spent a day in the military," Sirius said as he gazed out the window. High-rise buildings flashed past them as the driver drove on the main street.
"Some trouble at the airport?" the Alakazam in front asked.
"Yeah," Siria said. "Some Crawdaunt called a soldier a baby killer and claimed that we were all about power mongering."
The psychic-type laughed. "Not all civilians are like that, you know."
Sirius noticed the strange nomenclature. "Were you in the military before?"
"214th Signal Company. Spent my entire deployment coordinating 'mon left and right. But boy, you two aren't the first who've complained about that kind of treatment. It's a real interesting world back home, you know. Completely different from Trinity or whatever. That's where I was stationed last."
"It's been a whole year since then," Siria said. "I wonder if they've changed at all..."
"Nope." He brought the taxi to a halt at a red light. "It's the same everywhere. You got your little sect that wishes that all Halcyian soldiers should be executed for war crimes, another sect that wants everywhere Tamsus operates nuked to hell even at the cost of killing citizens, and that vast majority that just doesn't care. I can't remember the last time anyone held a movement arguing either for or against the war."
"Apathetic?"
"Just about. You should watch the news sometime. It's a riot. You got two here dead because of a Tamsus ambush, and everybody passes it off as an everyday occurrence. Sure, you have all the vets in an outrage, but who listens to them anymore?" He let out a brittle laugh as he stepped on the gas. "It's all numbers in the end."
Siria sat back, thinking about his statement as the taxi lurched forward again. It was an interesting dichotomy, to have those who intensely cared and those who simply didn't. But often the emotions of those who did have blatant opinions on the war often spiraled into degenerate rhetoric...
"I think there's still hope," Sirius said, drawing surprised looks from the other two. "I don't think they just happen to ignore us like we're nothing. I think they appreciate the fact that we defend them. It's just that there're some assholes out there, like that Crawdaunt, who ruin it for everybody else." He gritted his teeth at the mention of the water-type.
"So optimistic, boy. Let me ask you something," the Alakazam said, peering at the dragon for a moment. "You have any proof that they care? Tell me. What makes you think they care?"
When Sirius failed to supply an answer, the psychic-type shook his head. "'mon, wasn't there a time when society cared about the ones who made it free? I don't know, I really don't." The taxi finally slowed to a halt in front of an apartment building.
"Here's your stop," he said as Sirius got out. Siria handed him several more bills than the ticker listed.
"I know veterans don't get much pension," she said matter-of-factly.
"We don't," he agreed, sad smile working its way on his face. The Latias hadn't realized how old he was until she got a good look at his face. "Thank you for the tip, and good luck against Tamsus."
Siria watched as the yellow car sped off into the distance, and shivered as a slight gale blew past her. Suddenly conscious of her relatively simplistic attire, she followed her brother into the warmer apartment.
As she started climbing up the rugged stairs, she could hear the slight pat each one of her steps gave. She remembered the sound from years and years ago; it always had a lonely ring.
"Now, Siria, be nice to him," Sirius said, looking back at her. She merely scowled in reply.
He frowned at the suddenly recalcitrant dragon. "You know he works hard. Show a little bit of compassion, at least."
Both of them now stood before an apartment door. Sirius raised his fist and knocked twice.
Hardly a moment passed before the knob turned, yielding a tall, wizened Latios. His serious face broke into a smile as he saw who his visitors were.
"Sirius! Siria! Welcome back!" He stepped aside to allow the two into the common room.
He paused for a moment to inspect the two siblings that stood before him. "It's been quite a while," he said.
"Yes, father, it has," Siria testily replied. The two of them stared at each other.
"Well-"
"If you would excuse me." Without ado, Siria picked up her duffel bag and stalked off to her room.
The Latios gazed at her sadly before looking back at his son. "Sirius..."
He smiled ruefully as his father hugged him. "Hey, dad."
"She hasn't gotten over her issues, has she?"
"Not at all, though she did complain less about it this year."
The elder walked over to the kitchen. "Well, that's something to be grateful about, isn't it?"
"Yeah..."
He handed Sirius a glass of water. "So, how have things been for you?"
"More of the same. More deaths, casualties, stuff like that." Hearing his father balk, he continued, "We're making progress, though. This war might be over soon."
"Isn't that what you said the last time you came back?"
"Yeah, but it's for real this time! I think..." He took a sip of water. "Anyways, dad, how's it been going in Azure Heights?"
He blinked at the mention of the city's name. "Slow as usual. My job's been holding steady at the tank plant, so I'm grateful for that, though I've been wishing I went into the psychic business instead. More money to be made there."
"And you'd want to read the minds of angsty couples and raving lunatics all day?" Both of them laughed at the thought.
"It's a bit lonely without you and Siria here, as usual," he admitted with a sigh, "but at least you're back for a week or so, right? Maybe I can take another shot at getting in touch with her again..." He set his cup down with a bitter expression. "I still haven't forgiven myself for what I did so long ago."
"Dad..."
He waved him off. "It's fine, it's fine. You should unpack and wash up; dinner will be ready in half an hour."
Sirius saw straight through the paper-thin smile the elder threw at him, but decided to heed his orders for his sake. "Sure thing."
Siria stared at the Ho-Oh she had quickly drawn on her sketchpad. The phoenix glared back fiercely, beak open wide in a war cry.
She frowned at one of the curls on its head, dissatisfied with how it appeared to her, If the bird could have shrieked as she took an eraser to its head, it would've.
However, the only complaint the paper gave was a slight, nearly noiseless scratching as she lightly maneuvered the rubber on the graphite. She set to penciling the curl in again, narrowing her eyes with concentration.
Concentration that was quickly jarred by a dull thud coming from the entrance of the room. She looked up to see a Latios rubbing his face in pain.
Let me in, Sirius said. That Reflect barrier hurt.
Sighing, she removed it from the door. The Latios acquainted his side of the room with his duffel bag before jumping on the bed.
"So," he said as he dumped the entirety of his bag onto the bed. Siria said nothing, instead choosing to flesh out the plumage of the Ho-Oh.
"Siria, give dad a chance, at least," he pleaded.
The lead in her pencil cracked as she applied an inordinate amount of force to the paper. She stared at the graphite dust surrounding the tarnished line before slowly looking back towards her brother. "And why should I give him a chance?" she asked, tone of steel working its way into her voice.
"You know he's sorry for what he did! And consider the circumstances, at least..."
She turned in her chair to face him. "Consider the circumstances? Arceus, he yelled at me straight for an hour and called me everything under the sun! I'm sure that you would have been impressed with the curses he brought up. Hell, even Arceus would've been surprised at a few of them! He called me everything that would have insulted the sensibilities of a Slaking, and then some! And you want me to consider the circumstances?"
Sirius sat up straight. "He was drunk-"
"So what?"
"You know how bad it is, with mom having died back then! You took sociology; you know how closely related Latis are-"
"Shut up! That doesn't matter!"
"How does that not mat-"
"How would you like it if he said that you wouldn't have existed if he and mother did it right?"
"He didn't mean it-"
"Sure as hell he didn't mean it! Like he didn't mean it when he said that it was my fault that our mother was dead! Or that it was my fault that we both got expelled from school!"
The Latios growled. "Don't go there."
"I'll go wherever I want-" Siria blinked and looked down, suddenly abashed by her behavior. Both of them had made a promise to never broach the subject again, and she had come so close to doing so.
Both of them preoccupied themselves with their own work; Sirius continued to organize his stuff as Siria continued to draw, albeit much more jaggedly and roughly. Anything to take their minds off of the topic they were about to talk about.
"Well," the Latios said after some time. "Dad called. He wants us at dinner. Do you want to come?"
She gave him a cold stare.
"C'mon," he wheedled, giving her Poochyena eyes. "Just for one night?"
She gritted her teeth and looked away. "You know I hate it when you give me that look."
Sirius inwardly smirked. Even though Siria seemed to have the upper hand most of the time, he had a few aces up his sleeve as well.
"Please?" he pleaded once more. Like before, he captured Siria's attention, but this time he managed to hold it. Crimson red stared at hazel yellow for a moment...
"Fine!" she finally exploded, rolling her eyes. "It better be worth it, though."
"Well, he is a good cook," Siria begrudgingly admitted. She flipped over on her bed, better adjusting the pillow under her head. "Though I wish his food would say something of his moral fiber."
The Latios across the room sighed. "Still on that, huh?" After eating the giant meal their father prepared for them, both were so sated that they couldn't pursue anything more than some brief exchanges.
Both of them laid in the darkness, with only a shift or a twitch disrupting the ambient noise of the traffic some distance away.
"What do you plan to do tomorrow?" the Latias suddenly asked. She had lapsed back into her military psyche for a moment, only now remembering that she was free for a week.
She heard him hum for a second. "Uhh... well, tomorrow's a Sunday, right? Probably going to help dad clean some stuff out. He'd never do it on his own time."
The Latias frowned for a moment. She didn't understand how her brother could have such a connection with her father; surely he had heard the things that came out of his mouth that night, or received the waves of pain she felt when he whipped her with a belt? Verbal abuse was one thing, but to make that transition to the physical realm was something different.
Perhaps it's a father-son thing, she thought wryly. Maybe if I had someone to talk to I'd understand...
"And what do you plan to do?" her brother returned. She froze slightly at having her train of thought interrupted.
"Well, I..." Truth be told, she hadn't really given thought to the prospect of having so much time off to herself. The concept of having unlimited freedom was absolutely foreign to her.
Sirius snickered. "You haven't thought of anything, have you?"
Blood rushed to her face. "Yes I have-"
"Then what?"
She closed her eyes, half in anger and half in contemplation. What was that one movie she had read about in the newspaper...?
"The Maltese Pidgeot? That came out six months ago!" He laughed.
Siria nearly fell out of her bed. "Arceus, Sirius, were you looking through-"
"No. Just one of those random wisps of thought I picked up from you." The Latias could tell that he was smirking like a mad'mon, though.
"And I suppose you have something better to do for the next week? Like what, hitting on girls at the bar like last time?"
"Hey, that was for one night only!" She grinned at the indignant tone she drew from him. "And I almost got her! Almost!"
"Right, you mean before she nearly ripped your face off with a Dragon Claw?"
"Whatever! Point being, I have something to do and you don't!" Siria swore that she saw the faint redness of a tongue being stuck out at her.
"So what?" she asked. "If anything, I'll probably go out for a few days with some friends, nothing more."
"You're not going to be at home at all?"
She pulled her sheets a little higher up. "Well, for a couple, I guess..."
"Why not help out tomorrow?"
"With him?"
"Dinner wasn't bad; you can give it another shot."
"Only because you tricked me into it, you conniving ba-" She suddenly sneezed.
"Yes?" she heard his voice glibly ask.
The Latias shook her head. "Shut up; just because I sneeze doesn't mean that my argument is invali-" She sneezed again.
"Yes?"
"... maybe our room could use a little cleaning," she acquiesced. Siria doubted that it had been touched ever since the last time they came back, meaning that an atrocious amount of dust laid everywhere, including...
She briefly considered getting off her bed, but thought better of it when she realized how late it was and how much noise the effort of cleaning it would make.
"Night, Sirius," she grumbled. She would be content with just moving as little as possible until the next day.
As she raised her head slightly, Siria took a final glance through the window at the end of their room. The city lights twinkled back at her, the hallmarks of the bustle of the capitol of Halcyia. As she saw the tall spiral of the Presidential building, she couldn't help but wonder how soundly their leaders were sleeping that night. How many of them actually understood the war they waged?
Her thoughts quickly vacated her mind as she fell into a well-appreciated slumber.