Corr drank from a flask as he walked down the street with Calla and his two Vortian counterparts. "So, old man Vurkos made it through?" He looked to the all too familiar restaurant from ages ago, now in a much cleaner, functional condition than before.
"His kids, Commander," Jur replied, "They volunteered to help the war effort, either on the front or as cooks. Those who made it through came back and rebuilt their father's legacy.
Rub, flanking the opposite side of the irken pair and appearing impromptu hired protection for their sojourn to Vort, still appeared heavily out of place in their dress uniforms. A military escort was more apt a description for their "guest" of honor.
"They kept his recipes alive and vell. A local favorite among all the offices on lunch break." Rub added. "One of the best vays to commemorate a memorial is through a living medium. Everyone has to eat and if the food is good, they will remember it."
"Safe to assume you're a fan?" Calla inquired curiously, arm-in-arm with Corr as they walked.
"I am. My credits, not so much."
She huffed in amusement.
"Understandable...does the Federation not give bonuses to their living legends and war heroes?" She teased.
Rub smirked with a huff. "Unfortunately, no. I am not so vainglorious to seek preferred treatment. Jur might though."
"Hey, I'll have you know that I also do no such thing! Besides, I'd be more the type to seek a commission if I was. Admiral Orpos sounds better than Master Chief."
"You, an Admiral?" Corr looked over his shoulder with a smirk, "Don't see it. You're an excellent non-com but you'd make a terrible Admiral."
"Well thanks for the vote of confidence, you old coot!"
Rub gave a small laugh at the banter between old allies and former adversaries.
"Vhat are you going to tell him next? The veight of those bars on your shoulders represents the responsibility you have? That you seek to inspire your men and lead them to victory? Is that not vord-for-vord in the manual at officer candidate school?"
"Enlisted or commissioned, I see some things never change." Calla commented wistfully.
Corr shook his head, the levity helping to make light of the situation as his view cut back between the present and that night. He could almost see their shuttle in the middle of the street. He stopped to stare right at the exact spot.
His abrupt stop jarred Calla as she was denied the next step forward. His body, an immovable weight, stayed her feet. Her confusion and mild annoyance at the interruption in stride was quickly replaced with growing concern at the worrying expression and long stare Corr held to nothing in particular.
"Corr?" She spoke with gentle caution, squeezing his arm for comfort.
He remained silent, his eyes fixed, everything falling back into place...as if he was standing in that exact spot that very night.
The retired Irken's lack of response elicited a glance of growing concern to the two Vortian men in their company. An expression of uncertainty near that of pleading. Corr had taken a step to the proverbial edge and leapt into the abyss of his mind. A one-way plummet set to end in disaster.
The two Federation officers and veterans of countless engagements need not say a word. They knew first-hand what the withered, aged Irken before them felt and experienced. Rub was the first to move as he stepped forward, purposely walking around Calla into Corr's line-of-sight. Facing him squarely, he took hold of the man's shoulder.
"Captain, look at me." He ordered, well-practiced in his own service of the Federation and harkening back to familiarity of the time. A grounding back into reality. "Status report."
Calla remained at Corr's side, drawing his arm tighter. Something, anything to let him know that she was there and with him...and he was a lifetime away from where his memories were taking him.
Corr raised his left hand, seeing it shaking, gulping, "Functional...situation's FUBAR."
"Deep breathes. Relax. Ve'll get the medic to take a look at you," Rub coaxed in-character, looking to Jur. "Go get him something to drink. Cold. I vill repay you."
"Listen to the sound of my voice, hun...you are not there." Calla attempted to reach out to him, stroking his hand. "The war is over. The fighting is done. There is peace. You are here, with me, with friends. No one is in danger. We are safe."
Jur quickly ran inside, emerging in short order with a cold drink. "Here you go, Captain, Sula says this should do the trick."
Corr took a sip through the straw, a nice, cold soda. That hit the spot in the moment. He looked to the street for a few more moments, still witnessing the wreckage like it was for a while longer before he took several deep breaths to break away from the resurfaced past.
Rub watched closely as he took a much-needed drink despite the cold sweat forming on his brow. The beverage seemed to hit the spot, a cool shock to an ever-heated system to snap him from vivid images of days gone by. The intense glare of his eyes faded as they refocused to some semblance of normalcy.
"Still vith me, Captain?" Rub pursued.
"Yeah, yeah I'm here…" he squeezed Calla's hand, "I'm all right, I'm all right…"
Rub gave a nod of affirmation, releasing the man's shoulder with a pat. Relief flooded Calla at her mate's assertions and affections. He was back, so-to-say, from the past. It had been some time since he had a similar episode. They were few and far in between a man with high mental fortitude wrought of the tempering forge of war and the immense responsibility of leadership placed on shoulders that were never wide enough.
"Do you need to sit down for a moment?" She asked, doing her best to squash the worry in her voice. "We don't have to do this today if you don't want to."
There were a few moments of silence from the Commander as he took another sip of his soda. "You know...I think some of the food from this place would be a good thing."
"Lunch sounds good right now." Rub concurred, gesturing to Jur. "The Admiral's salary is higher than mine, he can pay for us."
"Yes, Admiral," Corr looked to the Master Chief, "your treat, yes?"
"Aw...my wallet really hates my big mouth just now."
Calla snickered, relieved that Corr had returned from his episode and the mood prior came roaring back.
"Never let your mouth make wagers your c'hurta can't cash, Jur. I thought you knew that by now."
"He does. He is just a slow learner." Rub jabbed in good humor. "Come. Let's see what the special is today."
"Yeah, yeah," Jur laughed, "Be glad I don't have that fancy suit with me. I'd find a way out of this if I did!"
"Until Vard electrifies your ass with that fancy mine he gave Sula on Devastis." Corr quipped back.
"Can't give me a break today, can you?"
"You mean like you broke mine? Turnabout is fair play, Admiral." Corr laughed as they walked inside, the interior rather crowded, but there was a recently open booth and no wait.
"Alright, boys, that's enough." Calla gently chided the three of them in good nature. "Let's find a seat and order. Work forced me to skip breakfast this morning. I'm starving. You do not want to see me hangry, would you?"
The Irken couple and their Vortian friends found a recently-bussed booth near the plate-glass window. The lunch rush was winding down, but business remained steady for the staff. Their server would see them soon enough in short order.
"Hangry?" Rub queried, confused.
"Yes, hangry. Hungry and angry. Hangry."
"Ah. Shika's normal state of being."
"Don't speak ill of your mate when she isn't around." Calla chastised with a light laugh. "That's not very nice."
"That voman is beyond mean-spirited to me...even if I deserve it sometimes. You aren't the one that has to live vith her. I am being generous." Rub replied jokingly. "Unlike your man, she does not hold me beneath her thumb."
"Oh? Is that so?" Calla challenged with a raised brow as she brought up her communicator with the intent to open a transmission. "So if I were to call and ask her-"
"That won't be necessary." Rub interrupted with a raised hand. "I am joking. She is vonderful and does not abuse me in any such vay."
"For the record...I do not keep him under my thumb." Calla defended with a smiling glance to Corr at her side. "...he resides there willingly."
"Lucky guy and one of the best capital ship pilots ever." Jur looked to Rub with a smirk as Corr arranged for their booth, making their way over to it.
"Oh yes, yes I do, if I take one step out of line I'll find my way into one of her many black sites where she'll punish me severely." Corr shot her a sly grin.
Calla did her best to remain composed at Corr's implications. She settled for an aversion of her gaze and a wistful smile. Thankfully, she did not blush furiously this time. Nevertheless, such did not go unnoticed by the sharp-eyed former marksman.
"Dare I even ask vhat horrors avait those snatched up by Internal Affairs? If it is anything like vhat SIS has done...and still does...I can only imagine."
"Oh, you know, the usual. Interrogations, investigations, data analysis-"
"Torture?"
"Nnnn…"
"You hesitate."
"Because I cannot in good faith say for sure it doesn't happen. I don't condone it but my people produce results and sometimes...they deserve it. Only sometimes though." She stipulated. "A nasty business, sure, but intergalactic security is a very serious matter."
"Unless you're me and can't explain the kazare budget and I end up in her dungeon."
"She has her own dungeon?" Jur blinked, "Over your addiction to-"
"What can I say? Really loved that bean water of yours, drink it all the time now. But yes, her dungeon."
"Right, so, food." Calla was quick to change the subject as she brought the dataslate up from its dock at the table to scroll and make her selection. "What do you recommend from here?"
"The vooza is good. Not Shika-good, but good for a restaurant." Rub offered.
"You're just saying that because it's your mate." Calla teased.
"I vould tell her if her food tasted awful."
"No you wouldn't."
"You're right, I vouldn't."
"No man in his right mind would lest he wants to face the wrath of an angry housewife." Corr chuckled.
"Vait, so Calla isn't your assisted living nurse?"
"Rub!" Calla chastised him with a suppressed laugh. "Be nice!"
Corr couldn't help but laugh. As did Jur.
"What, can't find the words, Corr, or is she going to revoke your sponge bath privileges if you say the wrong thing?"
That only made him laugh harder. "Ow, my ribs-"
"I know a thing or two about cracked ribs. Ask Shika the next time you see her."
"Oh, my word…" She shook her head at their banter. The implications, while not unfound, were not something she wanted to discuss with close friends, let alone in public. "I swear, I can't take you anywhere in public."
"You're embarrassed of us?"
"Sometimes."
"At least you are honest. I can respect that."
Corr caught his breath, taking a sip of his soda from before as he ordered himself a stiff liquor and a beer to go with it. "What can I say? Soldiers are going to act like soldiers, in good ways and...not so good."
"I am aware, yes." Calla offered as she made her lunch selection and drinks to accompany before passing the device around the table to the two Vortians. "I'm not complaining-"
"Yes, you are."
She balled up the wrapper of her straw and threw it at Rub.
"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted...I'm not complaining. I find it endearing...except when it involves my private life."
Rub gestured to Jur beside him.
"I've seen this man's dick more than once. There is no private life between soldiers."
"What you and Jur do without your mates knowing is between you two. I won't tell."
Rub laughed.
"Vaiting in the vings for that one, veren't you?"
"Maybe. Strike while the iron is hot."
"On target vith no survivors."
"I learned from the best." She smiled, a nodding gesture to Corr at her side.
Jur was a snickering mess, face half buried in one hand to hide some slipping tears of joy from the banter passed around. Corr was also laughing once more, one hand on his side.
"This is already better than the last time I was here." The Irken remarked, taking a sip of his beer when it arrived, "and this is much better than the swill from the convenience store across the street from where we were that time."
"Yeah, well, where do you expect to get some more beer at zero four when you're on a bender?" Jur asked of him.
"Hopefully something better than Aizores' Silver Bullet."
"Now that is a brand I haven't heard of in a long time. Drank that back when I was on a Spaceman's pay."
"What, they don't call you seamen?"
"Not since we took to the stars. Plus I think Navy command was all too relieved to be able to end that jab from the ground pounders."
"Yet your ships are still long, hard, and full of them." Corr smirked.
"See what I mean?!"
"I do. He's right." Rub responded. "I vill, however, be the bigger man and not take any low blows to the Navy. None of my returning volleys vould be well-received in current company."
"Since when has bad taste stopped you before?" Calla pressured, morbidly curious. "Don't hold back on my behalf."
"I'm not holding back on your behalf." He clarified, gesturing to Corr. "His."
"I would almost guess he was going to say something about our team, the Armada, and a-"
Corr was cut off by Jur, "More like how the First Fleet up and left after Praxxus fell."
"That vas part of it...but more how…" He paused, searching for the appropriate words. "...dire the situation became."
"You're talking about here, aren't you?" Calla sought clarification.
Rub said nothing, casting a glance to Corr to gauge his reaction to their conversation before speaking again.
"Let's just...leave it lie for now. There is a reason I am a career soldier and not a comedian."
"His cousin Tha would have some very choice words about that if she was sitting here with us right now." Corr went straight for the liquor and downed half the glass in one go, taking a moment to recover from the burning sensation on the back of his throat before pointing to the bar. One specific seat, right in front of the cash register, "Right there...that's where she was when we first met."
The others at the table looked in the direction Corr pointed. The seat he described, inane, normal, and currently occupied by a businessman on lunch enjoying a drink between checking incoming messages on his device. A rather normal expectation and sight in this part of the city. It was difficult to imagine little over a century ago the view could not have been more starkly contrasting.
Between Corr's rapid draining of his drink and Rub's demeanor over the current topic, Calla's lithe hand came up to rest atop the retired soldier's. A firm, consoling squeeze around his weathered, calloused hands sought to ground him.
"Hun…"
Rub held his hand up to Calla as he leaned forward.
"Let him continue."
"After what happened outside? Are you sure that is a good idea?"
"It is far more damaging to leave it bottled up inside vith no one to talk to about it." Rub elaborated. "I should know."
Calla gave a long, weary sigh of uncertainty as she studied the man beside her before speaking again.
"...is it appropriate to discuss here? In public?"
Rub looked around the restaurant from his seat before turning back to Calla.
"These people aren't interested in vhat ve have to say. Most of them veren't alive vhen this happened. It has no precedence on their lives. Sad as that is to say, it is the harsh truth. Something I equally admire and envy of your Republic. Your veterans still live. The vounds fresh."
"Valid points, but I meant the...security aspect of it. He's already been paid a visit by the Chancellor over this…I don't want to have to arrest my own mate."
Corr took a breath, "The real question to that is if Ghost Scribe's actions were declassified here. Our ship picked up signals from Vort in those final hours. They were broadcasting their final fight here."
"If you consider reports that read like barcodes to be declassified, then yes." Rub scoffed. "There is barely any actionable information in them outside of vhat has been redacted. Imagine my shock."
"How surprising." Corr's tone was practically full of venom towards SIS as an organization, even if he knew two good ones who stood among their number, the rest of it filled him with fury. "This was…" he sighed, "to say the least, it was a life changing night for all of us…"
Calla made her presence known once again with a reaffirming squeeze of his hand.
"You're a grown man and made your decision to come here on this day of all days...but I don't like seeing you like this." She navigated with mild concern.
"You do not like him at all then?" Rub interjected, much to her confusion.
"What? Of course I like him. I wouldn't be with him if I didn't."
"You misinterpret." The Vortian veteran began to explain. "Vhat you are seeing today? This is always there. Always present. Surprised this sort of thing doesn't happen more often vith him given his job vithin the Republic. Military historian and strategic instructor...studying, researching, and analyzing irken warfare, past and present….Empire included."
"It's a bit different…" Corr started before taking a swig from his beer bottle. "I don't know how much of Ohnmatu is known here in the Federation, but our unit's actions are still highly classified. I can't even discuss what happened in the mountains. Even if I could, it's a bit different walking across those old battlefields from ages ago. That night? That's an even more unique case."
"Vell…" Rub began, wary of his tone to not cut too deep. "...all who fought against the Empire on Vort are hailed as heroes. Countless documentaries and stories out there of individual accounts. There is some embellishment here and there for morale and propaganda purposes, but it is largely true and transparent."
"Somehow I doubt that transparency extends fully to that of your special forces units across your military's branches." Calla pointed out, her thumb idly stroking Corr's hand.
"Naturally. Some secrets are kept for advantageous purposes...others to protect the public at large. Something Hop-A-Long here is more than acquainted vith."
"You're lucky I like you."
"I am."
"There's enough out there that we as individuals are known as heroes and some minimal information," Jur added, "but, yeah, lots of it still classified, forms the basis for some things."
"Yes, I'm familiar as to what," Corr responded, leaning over to nuzzle Calla. The older Irken glanced around the various people around taking their lunch break. "You're absolutely certain they won't care if I start rehashing war stories?"
"So long as you don't have an episode and make a scene, yes." Rub plainly answered. "They are too caught up in their own lives to care about what their precursors did. Tallum vas rebuilt. Vort reclaimed and recovered. The Federation goes on. Unsure of how it is taken in your...culture vith the absence of the Empire, but it is hard to impart on someone that vas not there or lived through it how terrible something vas vhen their only experience of it is in a classroom or on a vid screen."
"I think I can manage without having an episode...just keep these cold beers coming." Corr took a breath, "I really think I need to talk about what happened that night…" he paused for a few moments before chuckling to himself, "Funny, I recently gave those three cadets the disc that has helmet footage from that night on it...I just hope they take it well."
Rub considered his former adversary and newfound ally's words for a moment. Without a response spoken, he rose from his seat, leaving their company briefly. Before queries of confusion or concern could be voiced, he returned a short while later. This time, he had a quartet of bottled brews between his digits.
"You'll have to tell me more about them one day. Must be bright kids vith a lot of potential to take such a risk vith them." He reasoned, passing the drinks out to each of the individuals at the table until he reached Calla. "I didn't care to ask what frilly mixed drink you like, so take it or leave it."
"Grado torva, iikvu." Calla swore at him in his native tongue, accepting the drink with a smirk. "I will outdrink the lot of you any day of the week….except today. I need to keep this young man out of trouble." She concluded with a lean of her head to Corr's shoulder.
"Young only because you keep me that way," Corr lightly jabbed verbally to his mate with a sly smirk. He looked at the label of the bottle Rub brought them, "Now this is one of those brands I remember from that restaurant we were at." He took a sip, a refreshing taste of the past, smooth and crisp, "That always hit the spot, even back then. Thank you." He gestured to Rub with the bottle before setting it down, he still had a third left of his previous bottle to finish off first.
"Least I can do for the unsung hero of the Republic." Rub jeered in a lighter tone.
As he sampled his own drink, he procured a device from his belt with his opposite hand. A digital recorder. He sat it on the table at its center.
"...I understand your unwillingness, but what little you have told me of those young men and vhy you are sharing vith them...if you vish to make a record of this, this vill do. That is my personal recorder, not the Federations. I vant it back vhen you are done vith it."
"They would appreciate my personal commentary on what happened...coupled with the helmet footage they have, it should give a fuller picture." Corr smiled, "I greatly appreciate this, Rub."