奇跡しない
No Miracles
If Cerberus's capabilities were similar to the Amity, they should be reaching Lylat within a few days by now...
The routine repeated itself normally for another day cycle much as it had since it started. When the pale wolf cam back from his latest exit, he looked different. He still wore his ubiquitous defiant scowl at all times, but it'd become more tired, broken down, his white fur rough and matted, his movements sluggish, and he fell asleep quickly. Still he spurned any contact, keeping stubbornly silent through it all, and continued when he was woken up and taken away once more.
This time however, Pigma didn't come to give James the meal like he normally did. When the white wolf was led out of the brig, Malcolm Aries returned in the swine's place, complete with a food-laden tray, and a grim, concerned look drawing down on the older ram's features.
Malcolm opened up the cell door and stepped slowly inside, the smell of the cheap prepared food wafting through the brig. It looked like some steak dish, with sliced potatoes, mixed vegetables. Not exactly gourmet by any standard, but the fox had grown accustomed to cheap food, and this was probably the best anyone aboard Cerberus would be getting anyway.
"So," James greeted, "am I getting out yet or what?"
"I don't think so." the ram answered as he handed him the steaming tray, "Not yet anyway."
The fox accepted the food tray with a frustrated sigh, and unwrapped the plastic spork provided before sitting down on the cell's bed, tray in lap.
"Are you going to tell me why, at least?"
"There's another reason we've been keeping you in here." Malcolm answered dryly.
"It's him, isn't it?" the fox said, gesturing at the empty cell across from him with the spork.
"Yeah..."
The ram leaned against the cell's open doorway, arms crossed, and not making eye-contact with McCloud. The fox just listened while he ate the bland but necessary meal.
"He's completely stonewalling all of our interrogation efforts. We've had him doped him up with all sorts of drugs, deprived him of sleep– anything to try to loosen him up. So far we don't even have a name or anything to show for it. He's got some of the most brutal resistance skills I've ever come across. "
"What're you doing to him? Torture?" James asked. Some part of him hoped he was actually being tortured, or at least humiliated.
"We may be mercs, but there are some lines we won't cross, and that's one of them." Malcolm answered, shaking his head, "As far as I'm concerned, torture's never all that reliable in the first place, and is only worth it for the sick sadistic creeps. Besides, we've still got a few tricks up our sleeves."
"Such as?"
"You."
"I think I see where this is going."
The graying ram nodded as he continued.
"Captives are usually way more open with their fellow inmates than their captors. You're not a threat to him in here, so he may talk to you. We've been keeping you here in case he said something to you, which he hasn't yet, but you've been keeping awfully quiet too."
"What exactly do you expect me to do about it?" James asked, growing slightly irritated, "Question him?"
"Not 'question' him so to speak," Malcom gave a small shrug, "just talk to him, get him to say something back to you, anything. If you can get the words flowing, something might slip out."
"If he's already stonewalling everything you've got, what makes you think I'll do any better?" the fox asked.
"I never figured it to be a perfect plan, but this is what the circumstances served us up with, and we may as well give it a shot."
James just sat there on the bunk for a few moments, staring blank-faced at the still untouched food on the tray, tapping the plastic spork against the side of it as he thought.
"Okay, fine." James replied with a reluctant sigh, "I'll talk to him, but on two conditions."
"Sure."
He looked up at Malcolm with an alert, steely cunning in his eye that knew better.
"I want in on whatever it is you're doing, what you really came all the way out here chasing the Amity for. It doesn't take a genius to see that there are some major pieces missing from the puzzle; there's got to be a bigger reason than simple heroic valor that you crashed a Harrow pirate raid. So if I'm going to be your ace in the hole, then I deserve to know what exactly I'm being roped into..."
And with that, the fox finally dug into his food and began eating, quietly waiting for Malcolm's response.
"Fair enough." the ram gave a quick nod before beginning, "The outlaw faction Harrow has been stepping up pirate raids, specifically: they've only been targeting vessels that make the Cerinia/Sauria run, like the Amity and Sojourn. Someone in Lylat Central Intelligence wants to know why this is happening, so they've hired us as a part of their investigation."
"You mean Rick and Rachelle Cooney." James mentioned between mouthfuls of the cheap food.
"Yes, but the Cooneys are more what you'd call 'middle-men' of Intelligence, folk who go into the field and get things done on behalf of their higher-up, such as hire people like us in certain cases. We've worked with the Cooneys on a number of occasions, so it was only natural they'd call on us when they got the tip that the Amity was going to be attacked."
"So what was your part in the Amity raid?"
"To gather as much information as possible." Malcolm said in an obvious matter-of-fact tone, then divulged further, "It was a a multi-pronged operation: we sent Adrian, Pigma and Chakori aboard the Amity for primarily two reasons: first, plant the quantum smart-bug; second, hack into the Amity's mainframe and download the complete ship's manifest. We weren't going to leave without the passengers and crew though, and it even landed us that stubborn stone of a prisoner; he's part of Harrow if you didn't guess that already–"
"Quantum smart-bug?" James interrupted, confused and curious.
"Adrian hooked it up to the Amity's mainframe while he was aboard." the ram mused, "It's some nifty, insanely expensive little chunk of hardware that can transmit great gobs of data from anywhere to anywhere else instantly, regardless of distance or any interference, and is impossible to trace or intercept. If you want details, ask Pigma: the kid'll geek out all over the place and talk your ears off about it, if you can stomach it."
"So why tag the ship with a super-bug and leave it?" James asked, "Why not take it back?"
"The guys in LCI want to see what happens to the Amity." Malcolm answered, "They want to know what Harrow does to the ships they capture, and how they'll react if we just leave the ship and all its contents there for them to take. At least, that's what Rick told me when I asked him the same thing, and that's everything I know about this op..."
The ram exhaled a long, relieved sigh before saying anything more.
"So, what's this other condition of yours?"
"Just tell Chakori that..." James paused a moment, trying to find the best way to word it, "that I'd like to have a visitor. She'll know what I mean."
He handed Malcolm the empty tray, not making any eye-contact.
"Okay then..." the ram took it, not pressing to question McCloud's odd request. "We'll have him back in here in about an hour, and you can talk to him then. Thanks again for understanding and putting up with all this. We'll make it up to you when it's over, I swear it."
Malcolm Aries turned and left, closing the door on his way out, and leaving James alone. All the while the fox simply sat hunched on the bunk, staring at a spot somewhere on the floor, wandering through a great many thoughts about a great many things...
"Yeah..." he uttered, not really sure or even concerned whether or not the ram heard it.
/
/
The shuttle door opened, and Vicenzia Reinard stepped inside from Cerberus's hangar bay. It was a mid-sized shuttle, built to ferry about six passengers from a host ship with extra cargo capacity, but it could make interplanetary runs if properly stocked. The Lylat Tribune shuttle looked just the same as she'd left it several times before: mostly clean, but with a few odds and ends scattered here and there. Of particular interest was a tripod mounted video camera, aimed at one of the shuttle's built-in swivel chairs. The camera stood dormant for now, but that was about to change.
The copper furred vixen approached the camera and powered it up, reigniting a number of indicator lights over the device. Shortly after, she removed a memory chip from one of her pockets, slid it into the corresponding slot in the camera. The camera found the chip's memory storage, and Vixy effortlessly navigated its control scheme in preparation for recording...
The camera was reliable, trustworthy friend who'd always listen, always remembered what it was told without distortion, and never said anything she didn't want to hear. She needed this silent, ever receptive friend now more than ever: the perfect vehicle though which to unload all these heavy burdens on her mind...
Having completed her prep work, the copper vixen, stepped in front of the camera and sat down in the swivel chair, which quietly squeaked with the torque applied to it. Vixy took a moment, and a deep breath to go with it before looking up though the steady eye of her mechanical friend's lens, and the blinking red light next to it that told her it was listening.
"Day five after the attack on the Amity." She began, her voice steady, kept under control by habit and practice, "Everyone aboard is so quiet, or restless. The raid hit some of us harder than others, and the... petrified, ghostly shock from it still lingers around a few of them aboard. The Amity's engineer –Hargreave I think is his name– seems to have the worst of it. He constantly jabbers on and on without stop. Sometimes it's decipherable, sometimes its a whole lot of technical jargon, and other times it's just incoherent mumbling..."
"Some of us are starting to come around though, and we try to lift others' spirits. The crew of Cerberus seem too busy to be bothered, distracted by something else, but I can only imagine what by. Even so, one of this ship's sparse crew members has been trying to reach out. Her name is Chakori Uncia, from Fortuna, and she's made something of a friend of me during the past few days; even gave me a tour of the ship..."
She trailed off from there, coming to an abrupt stop as if the brakes were suddenly jammed to her train of thought. Yet the camera's ever-attentive eye and ear stood there, capturing every awkward nuance and moment moment as it waited for what she'd say or do next. Just as her emerald eyes drifted away from the camera, she snapped them back with a quick inward breath and quick words afterward, regaining control, if only for a moment.
"That's all I have for now. This is Vixy Reinard, signing off."
And with that, she reached up and stopped the recording, closing the camera's indifferent apathetic eye that would never truly understand. Another few moments had the memory chip ejected from the camera, and then. She spent a few moments gazing down at the little square resting in the palm of her hand, until she finally let a breath go she hadn't realized was being held–
"Aren't you leaving something out?"
"Good God!" Vixy spluttered out, nearly jumping out of her skin at the sudden voice behind her. When she whipped around, almost tripping over the chair in the process, she found the feline form of Chakori sitting there quite casually, "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"I have my ways." the ashen leopardess answered.
"You can't just sneak up on people like that!" the vixen protested.
"Clearly I can."
Vixy caught hold of herself, working down as easily as she could from her sudden hysteria. She knew no amount of argument was going to change Chakori's mind on this, so the vixen stopped herself from careening toward that dead-end, and instead steered down the next path:
"What do you want?" She asked quietly.
"I want to talk, that's all."
"And you couldn't have waited five minutes?"
"I could have, but I also can't help but feel you've neglected to mention something in your little..." Chakori gestured vaguely at the camera, digging up the right words to describe it, "Video confessional; someone, actually."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about." Vixy stated in a cold, blatant lie.
"You're not fooling anyone." The leopardess retorted with a shake of her head, "Not me, and not yourself in the slightest: you're attracted to him."
"Look, it was nice of you to give me a tour of the ship and all, but I didn't know there was going to be someone in your brig. I was a little shocked that's all..."
She abandoned the flimsy ruse, not really believing it herself, and tried something else.
"What the heck did he do to get himself thrown in there anyway? He's one of the escort pilots for Sol's sake!"
"He knows you've been spying on him." Chakori mentioned, not fazed in the slightest.
"What?" Vixy felt her face flash hot, while her hands became clammy and restless, "That was nothing– I mean– what the hell else was I supposed to do on a long, boring-ass trip? It's not like there was much else on that tub worth admiring. I'm allowed to have my dumb little daydreams, but that doesn't mean I have to act on them, especially now that I know he's dangerous–"
"And you think that's why we locked him away in our brig? Understandable, I suppose..."
The ashen leopardess waited a moment, preparing herself and finding the right words.
"He is... troubled, gravely. He lost many close comrades during the raid: every single one of his squadmates killed, all except for him, and he took the loss very hard. He was pushed to the brink of insanity by the guilt he felt, and it drove him to do something foolish, nearly killing him because of it. We locked him away more as a precaution, to protect him from his own actions until he cools down."
"That's... terrible, but that's his problem." Vixy responded, somewhat confused, "So why are you telling me about it?"
"He's requested to have you come visit him; he's very interested in meeting you."
"I..." she was taken aback, and didn't really know what to say, and so stalled for time, "I have better things to do."
"Like talking to your little friend here?" Chakori mused as she pointed out the camera once again, bordering on sarcastic.
"You're really not going to let this go, are you?"
"Perhaps I haven't made the situation entirely clear..."
Chakori's tone became far more serious, chilling her words to a sharp, clear crystalline point.
"He needs all the support he can get right now, something to take his grief-ridden mind away from these tragedies. He needs someone to talk to, to form a kind, caring, friendly bond he can grab hold of and pull himself up by so he doesn't drown in his own sorrows. You can provide this."
"I'm no shrink, or therapist." Vixy mentioned, trying not to look at the leopardess.
"True, but there isn't a clinical psychologist anywhere who could have prescribed a better treatment" Chakori's words thawed out, and began to warm up again.
"Why does it have to be me?"
"To be perfectly blunt, it has to be you because you set yourself up for it." the leopardess explained, "No one else aboard is readily able to do for him what you can do right here, right now."
"I'm... I'm just not sure."
"Please, do yourself a service and let yourself have this experience, for your own sake as much as his." the ashen leopardess implored, a quiet sense of urgency leaking through her cold, hard visage, "Even if it goes badly, then you can at least move on without the question of 'what if' constantly nagging at you from behind. Because if you don't go to him, you will spend a very, very long time regretting that decision, agonizing over it as you wonder what might've happened if only you'd taken the chance..."
She stepped away and turned to exit the shuttle. The conversation had loosened something within Chakori, and now she was the one struggling to maintain control. The leopardess took a few moments to gather herself, and looked over her shoulder to give Vixy one last piece of information.
"His... his name is–"
"McCloud, James McCloud." the vixen supplied, "I know."
Chakori just nodded slowly, and an understanding glimmer crossed her normally icy gaze.
"Come by the brig tomorrow at fourteen-hundred–" she stopped herself, and translated the military jargon into something more manageable, "Two in the afternoon."
Just as Chakori was about to exit the shuttle for good, something held her back: a question.
"That regret..." Vixy began, getting her attention, "Do you know it from personal experience?"
With her back turned to the vixen, Chakori let her head hang a moment as she batted this sudden resurrection of old, long-buried emotions. When she felt she'd held them off well enough, she glanced over her shoulder at Vixy one last time; the ice in her eyes had all but melted away...
"... I do."
And without another word or moment more, she left.
/
/
When James opened his eyes, he saw the swirling gray mists he'd grown accustomed to over the past few days. This is how his dreams seemed to go ever since he was locked into Cerberus's brig.
"You are pathetic." a familiar, unforgiving voice scolded through the mists.
"We've been over this already, sir." the fox retorted, rolling his eyes.
"I know what you're trying to do –your schemes, your plans– and it is all in vain..."
The figure of Captain Sobak Soyuz strode through the mists again, his sharp, electric blue eyes drilling into McCloud once again.
"Despite your best collective efforts, he will not tell you a single thing. He is nothing but dead weight to you."
"And what makes you so sure?" James asked without much care.
"It's a shame you didn't kill him when you had the chance. It would've saved so much trouble, for everyone..."
The Husky officer released a disapproving sigh, and gazed off into the surrounding nothingness.
"But no: he lives, and lingers on for much longer than he and his utter uselessness deserve. Pitiful."
There was something different about Captain Soyuz this time. He wasn't putting constant, unrelenting pressure on James like he normally did in these dreams. Instead, he seemed to be referencing other things entirely, things he shouldn't have any knowledge of in the first place.
"Wait, what are you talking about?"
"You haven't the faintest idea what you're up against, do you?" he asked James with a confident sneer, "The forces you and your little band of saviors are to contend with?"
"This can't be real... It's all in my head."
The fox tried closing his eyes, anything to kill the images, but it seemed his eyes were already shut, and the image of Sobak Soyuz wouldn't go away.
"Of course it's all in your head," the officer taunted, "but why should that simple fact make this experience any less real?"
"Who are you?"
The husky officer turned back to James, but something seemed off. It was something about his eyes; they were already a bright, piercing shade of blue, but the seemed almost to shine, glowing with a light of their own from within...
"I broke your silent cell-mate long ago, I broke your squad leader Agamemnon before his end, and I will break you just the same."
"That doesn't answer my question." the fox stated, glaring back just as firmly, holding his ground.
"Who am I?" Captain Soyuz mocked, almost laughing as he said it, "That is a complex question, the answer to which you would fail utterly to understand."
"Try me." James challenged.
"Hmm, very well..." The gray mists of the surrounding backdrop darkened, reminiscent of stormclouds, there even seemed to be a low rumble that rose from the nothing. Then the image of Soyuz began to blur, every movement of his followed by ghostly streaks of its afterimage, like he was being seen through a hazy, drunken stupor. His eyes however remained: two points of harsh, pale blue light that remained unchanged in the gathering darkness. Then it was no longer an image of Sobak Soyuz at all, but someone else entirely; still canid, but with sharper, more pointed features instead of the husky's boxy squared ones, but it was too blurred to make out any further details.
I am Harrow–
"Hey, wake up lad..."
The smoky black clouds cleared away, fading into the real and very familiar blank ceiling of his cell in Cerberus's brig, staring up from that same bunk. Those eyes however seemed to linger on for a while, haunting and glaring at him from within the walls even now...
"Ye had another bad dream, didn't ye?" a familiar voice said, close by.
Sstanding over the fox was Scott Aberdeen, his dark silhouette off to one side
"It happens a lot lately." James replied, still coming awake as he hoisted himself up.
The memories returned as the dream was swept away by reality. He remembered what he was in here for, what he was supposed to be doing, and recalled that yesterday wasn't nearly as productive as it should've been. All of McCloud's efforts to talk to the white wolf were met with the usual stubborn silence, and went on for a few hours until the lupine prisoner finally grunted "Piss off" at James, and then forced himself into sleep. Those two words was all the fox was able to glean from the other prisoner for now...
Scott was there in the cell with him, right where he thought he'd be, with the open door behind him. James also noticed the cell across from him was empty again, which meant Cerberus's crew was still trying something on their end, but exactly what it was they never told. There was something else though: a couple of folding chairs and a collapsible table were set up outside the cell. The fox soon became aware of a certain food aroma. Sure enough, on closer inspection the table did in fact have a pair of those all too familiar packaged-prepared meal trays resting on it, waiting.
"Ye got yourself a visitor," Scott informed as he stepped outside the cell, past the makeshift dinner table, "a nervous, bonny las by the look of her."
"And all this?..." James said, gesturing at the place-setting as he followed the terrier outside.
"Chax's idea." Scott answered with a small chuckle, "Figured it's the least we could do tae make this a bit less awkward for ye."
"Thanks." the fox replied, sounding perhaps a little more dry and cold-hearted than he meant, and added, "I appreciate it."
"Hm." Scott acknowledged with a quick nod. He then excused himself and headed toward the brig's exit, saying over his shoulder, "I'll just send her in then." and that was it.
James McCloud spent a few moments standing blank-faced in Cerberus's brig while it all started sinking in. This was a date he suddenly realized, a first date no less, and here he was in a beat-up Caius Company fighter pilot's flight-suit, infused with several days' worth of stale sweat. At least he'd been able to get some kind of shower in the cell's minimal facilities, hidden by a simple curtain in the corner.
He felt his heart rate start creeping up, and his breaths were being drawn deeper into his lungs. He was feeling nervous and a little awkward, as many guys often do on their first date, and strangest part is that it felt good. It felt good, at least for a while, to not be consumed by the horrible events of the past, and to be looking forward to something, even if unsure and a little off-balance about it. The fox sucked down a deep breath of air that, trough some sort of placebo affect he could care less about, felt cool and refreshing in his chest, and he relished in the comfortable awkwardness of the moment...
The door to outer corridor opened again, and a young copper furred vixen stepped through. She looked a little uneasy, and rightly so, glancing around Cerberus's bland and boring brig until her emerald eyes landed squarely on James. She allowed a weak smile to have its way with her face and gave McCloud a small wave, making her look just a little goofy in her insecurity.
"Hey." Vixy managed through the awkwardness.
"Hey." James replied in-kind.
For a moment, they just stood there, looking each other over with their unsure stares. Both he and she looked as if they'd seen better days, much like everyone else aboard Cerberus for that matter. The moment soon passed, when James stepped forward toward Vixy, scrambling to put up the facade of the 'hospitable host', such as he could in the brig.
"Why don't you come on in and take a seat?" the fox invited, gesturing at the simple table-and-chairs setup in front of them, "We've uh, got something here for lunch it looks like."
"Sure, alright..."
"Thanks for coming down here." James said as the two took their respective places at the table opposite the other, "I know this weird and everything, and I really appreciate your being open about it."
"You don't have to thank me." Vixy dismissed with a small shake of her head, "Chakori explained your situation; If anyone needs thanks, its her."
"No kidding." the fox agreed, "Can you believe she went ahead and orchestrated this whole thing?"
"I caught on to her little matchmaker scheme pretty much when she lured me in here the first time..."
She picked up the spork provided and started on the food tray in front of her, but quickly trailed off in a quiet giggle she couldn't hide.
"What's so funny?" James asked.
"Nothing." Vixy began, "Just– the look on your face when you saw me, it was like I'd caught you naked or something."
"Excuse me– naked?"
"Uh..." the vixen squinched and blushed, having realized just what she let slip out.
James noticed this, and did his best to put her out of her awkwardness.
"Snarks aside, you gotta give Chakori props for picking up on us like she did..." He held up his forefinger and thumb, mere millimeters apart. "I was this close to asking you out the normal way back on the Amity? This, close right before the attack happened."
"That so?" Vixy asked, somewhat relieved to be out of the hole she dug.
"Yeah, right after my last drilling session with the squad in the Amity's mess, I was so going to ask if you'd like to hang out, or something..."
"Just out of curiosity: would you have said 'yes', you know, without all these crazy things happening?"
"I don't know, probably..." After a moment or two of consideration, Vixy let out something between a sigh and a chuckle, and changed her answer. "Oh who am I kidding? Of course I would've said 'yes'. There wasn't much else to do back on the Amity, I was bored out of my mind, and I guess I was sort of... um... stalking you... just a little."
"You're not one of those psycho obsessive girls, are you?" James quipped.
"Oh for love of– I was freaking bored, okay? Haven't I made this point clear enough already?" she insisted, rolling her eyes, "I'm not one to just go and spy on random guys. I usually do other things given the opportunity."
"Sorry, bad joke." the fox apologized, and moved on, "I can't say I blame you though. These long-haul interstellar runs are about as dull as they come. Heck, I was about to go bonkers back there with all the drilling we were doing."
"Is it hard, you know, not having your squad with you?" Vixy asked, almost without warning.
The fox seemed to freeze a moment, and subsequently became colder in gesture, in posture, and speech also. This wasn't a topic he wanted to talk about here, but he wasn't going to refuse. He needed this off his chest.
"...Yeah." he answered in a gravely voice. James just looked down at the tray in front of him, pushing some the the food around with the spork– anything to avoid eye-contact in this state. "I didn't know them for very long, but when you're part of a squad, a team, you look out for each other. It's kind of a military thing: you and your squads becomes almost like family, very quickly. A lot of the strength of that bond comes from knowing they could all be gone in an instant..."
Vixy leaned in, a concerned look in her emerald eyes, and slid a hand across the table toward one of his.
"Are you okay?"
"Do you think I'd even be here in the first place if I was?" James snapped at her.
"I'm sorry." She flinched back a little, caught off-guard by his outburst.
"I... didn't mean it to come out that way. You deserve better than that from me."
He looked down again, rubbing his hand against his forehead as a sigh escaped.
"I've just been cooped up in here so long, with nothing to do, and with only the worst possible company–"
"Do you want me to leave?" Vixy asked him.
"No, don't go, please..." Jame's head snapped up, his urgent steel eyes imploring her to stay. "It's... all that doom-and-gloom Chakori's been telling you about has done nothing but stew in its own juices ever since the attack, and it's made me a miserable wreck. I'd really like to step away from all that, even if it's only for a little while. What I mean is... it's good to have somebody here I can just kick back and talk with. I haven't felt this loose in... well, a really long time..."
"Okay..." she nodded slowly, and placed her hand on one of his; it felt cold, and clammy, needing to be warmed up. "What do you want to do then?"
"This is a is supposed to be some sort of a date, right?" James gently grasped Vixy's hand that she placed on his. It felt warm, smooth, and supple against his own hand, which he only just realized seemed stiff, and practically freezing. "So let's just talk, like it's a regular old date."
"Okay flyboy, but don't expect any miracles."
"There's no miracles, just whatever happens, and I'm really curious to see where this goes..."
He gave a nonchalant shrug, and continued on quite casually.
"So, what 'other things' do you do given the opportunity? Like, what brought you on a run out to Cerinia, with a news-crew?"
"Okay, first off, the Tribune does more than headline news, much more..."
She tore her hand from his grasp, spouting back at James in a tone that was borderline indignant.
"The Lylat Tribune is one of the main media outlets for scientific, historical, and cultural conservation organizations. The Tribune's main mission is promoting awareness and encouraging education of fascinating, sometimes otherwise obscure subjects. It's not some corporate-sponsored, sensationalism-spewing yellow-journalism monster like some of these other 'media outlets'."
"Fair enough," James conceded with nod, and he started back on the food in front of him."but I don't think that answered my question though."
Vixy likewise returned some attention back to her tray. The packaged-prepared meal had cooled to a lukewarm, but she didn't mind, and neither did James it seemed.
"Well, I'm going to to school, film school, and I've been interning and working with the Tribune for a while now. They put me on one of their field crews, and I just happened to be on the roster when they picked a crew to send out to Cerinia. We were going to work with the Cerinia Institute in order to help document their work, let everyone back in Lylat know what's going on out there..."
/
/
They were in Cerberus's medical bay, such as it was. It had all the necessary amenities for the purposes of shipboard medicine: a few beds, a storeroom tucked into one corner, a biochem lab station next to that, and other. Three people occupied the space; one was the stubbornly mysterious white lupine prisoner, clamped down on one of the beds with a series of restraining straps. Standing over him was the formidable figure of Malcolm Aries, arms crossed, and a look of weary impatience pulling on his graying, aged features. Lastly was Adrian Crane, who'd forgone his usual ankle-length duster in favor of a far less obstructive plain t-shirt, and a pair of medical gloves.
The gangly avian had just stepped away from the med bay's laboratory station, and was inserting a cartridge into a hypodermic autoinjector as he approached the occupied bed.
"If this doesn't work, I'm all out of options." Adrian stated.
"What's in it?" Malcolm asked, only mildly curious.
The avian remained quiet a few moments as he considered the best response, and prepared the injector tube for use. He finally just said, "...Quite a few things."
Adrian brought the injector tube up to the white wolf's neck, who just scowled back at the avian defiantly, daring him in his silence to do his worst. With a quick pop and hiss, Adrian unloaded the autoinjector's contents into the lupine prisoner's carotid artery.
Almost immediately, the wolf thrashed and twitched wildly, pulling against the restraints with every fiber of his might. His jaws remained clamped shut, but a muffled groan of pain still escaped through his barred, gnashed teeth. The bed creaked and rattled at the forces subjected to it from the prisoner's desperate flailing, and the straps seemed like they may even cut into his skin. When at last the white wolf settled down, he was panting heavily, sucking down whole lungfulls of breath and expelling them in less than a second. He was also sweating profusely, and his fur quickly became damp. Worse still were his eyes; bloodshot and wild, dancing all across the room without stopping even for an instant to focus on anything. Most terrible of all, on top of everything else, he was completely and utterly terrified.
"You... you have to stop." he managed between his deep raspy gasps.
Malcolm leaned over the nameless white wolf, and gazed deep into his twitching, horrified eyes.
"We're not stopping anything until you give us a reason to, you know this."
"The ship!" he spurted back, "You have to stop the ship! Stop it!"
"I will do no such thing my friend, not without a damn good reason." the elder ram paced back and forth above the prisoner's head, a skeptical sneer coming from his eyes, "Do you happen to have a damn good reason for me?"
"He knows... He's waiting..." the wolf answered, growing more and more frantic "He knows and he's waiting!"
"Who?" Malcolm asked.
"Urrggnn! You have to stop! Now! or it'll be too late!"
"Why?" The ram maintained his authoritative composure as best he could, but a few traces of worry started to crop up, "What's waiting for us?"
"Are we gonna stop the ship, or what?" Adrian asked, unable to stay silent any longer.
"AAAAUUUGGHHHH!" the wolf was screaming at the top of his lungs, so loud and guttural that it sounded as if he might tear his throat apart–
The entire med bay seem to have been thrown to one side, knocking Adrian and Malcolm off their feet entirely before they slammed into whatever they came across first, be it bed or wall. Alarms started blaring and squealing throughout the space.
"Goddammit!" Malcolm roared, staggering to his feet, "What the fat-flapping fuck just happened!"
I Happened, answered a voice without a voice, I am Harrow.
/
/
Author Notes:
Oh boy, what the heck have I gotten everyone into now? You'll just have to wait and see. :P
On another note, this is the first time I've written romance content in a long, long while. I really hope It's even half as good as what I've produced in the past.
As always, any feedback of yours is welcome.