01. Sightless (Frye, Vandham). Frye has a mission planned.
All the good things belong to Monolithsoft.
Commander Vandham was all for ignoring paperwork. To this end, he tended to lend a patient ear to any soldier with a wild enough plan. The pitches his subordinates offered usually provided a welcome distraction, and he could comfortably shoot down the suggestions without having to document the interactions. A double win, unless the BLADE in his office wasn't taking "no" for an answer.
"It's a menace and just because no one has a picture of it doesn't mean we don't need to shoot it dead," insisted the current visitor.
Vandham sighed, a seismic rumble, and examined the BLADE leaning on the other side of his desk. The man's fingers were trembling and his eyes were watery, probably a sign that he was fully sober for a change. Frye Cristoph had been walking a fine line between explosive competency and inebriated disaster for most of his career, and he would have been abandoned on Earth if not for family connections and an uncanny ability to wedge himself into problems that other people hadn't seen yet. He was valuable and a liability and generally unique. He was also fixated on a mission gone bad.
"Look, son," began Vandham, "whatever smashed your ride, we aren't gonna worry about it. We put a ping on the map, pilots know to avoid the danger, whether it's weather or shoals or ..."
"It was an indigen, and it'll kill somebody next time. It's not a fixed threat, and marking the map doesn't mean squat."
Vandham stood up, glad that he had a few centimeters on Frye, and more than a few kilos. "Check your ears. We aren't spending time on a fish we aren't sure exists."
"My team saw it!"
"Your team came back in pieces from the crash. Two of them can't describe more than a rolling wave. You weren't even piloting."
Frye straightened up and crossed his arms, mirroring Vandham's pose. "Fine, I'll do it myself. I'm gonna find it and I'm gonna kill it."
Vandham waved him towards the door. Paperwork was beginning to seem attractive. "Suit yourself, but if the new recruits start calling you Ahab, don't blame me."
a/n: Oh no, the stories are already interconnecting, if I can cheese the prompts. This is also a fanfiction for a fanfiction, being a continuation of Leaning, although I'll do my best to make it free standing.
Next up: Immortals.