Citadel Alpha, Venom.

Well, time to face the music.

Connor Griffon exited the elevator door at the top of the observation tower over Citadel Alpha, the primary stronghold on the surface of Venom. The landscape beyond, shown through the large windows opposite the elevator doors, was the desolate reddish brown poison sky of Venom, met by the jagged mountains below. Several surface structures sprang up here and there among the rocks, and a fair number of transports streaked across the sky beyond.

A small table and two chairs had been set up next to the large observation window. Here, Dr. Andross sat, calmly gazing into the screen of the computing tablet in his hand, with a steaming mug of tea on the table in front of him. On either side, the scholarly old ape was flanked by a pair of his unnecessarily enigmatic black-clad 'Shadow Guard', each standing in a stagnant stupor of attention, holding their rifles dutifully in front of them, like the wooden soldiers Connor knew them to be.

Andross didn't even acknowledge his avian guest's entrance when Connor arrived, and just took a small sip of his tea. Connor knew this nonchalant, aloof tactic of his: Andross liked making his subordinates feel awkward in a time of crisis by behaving in a paradoxically serene manner. Connor wasn't amused by it, and simply dropped straight into the seat across from Dr. Andross, and began in an irritated grumble, "I have a lot of work to do, so if you've got something to say to me, then just go ahead and say it."

"Watch your tone!" one of the guards scolded, jerking his head toward the avian.

"Up yours, soldier-toy," Connor quipped, rolling his eyes.

Before the guard could make his next move, Andross stopped him with small gesture to the offended soldier, and finally laid his tablet down.

"I'm not angry with you, Mr. Griffon," the older simian scientist said with an uncanny calmness to his voice, "Nobody is infallible: not you, not myself, not anybody. A failure, no matter how problematic, does not have to be a loss, not if you have learned something from the experience and can make use of it," at this, Andross leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together, looking at his guest with an eerie sense of expectation, "So then, tell me what you have learned, and how you will make use of it."

"We have to focus on neutralizing Cadan Olsen:" Connor said with an impatient rush to his words, "that's the threat, so that's the mission."

"And what of Captain Zura, and Cooney?" Andross asked, "She may have compromised other vital resources."

"I have reason to believe Captain Zura was set up, and is being held against her will. She may still be with us."

"This despite all evidence that she is a traitor?" the Simian ruler questioned, raising a curious eyebrow.

"It's funny you should say that," the avian spy said with a sly, knowing tone, "It's actually because of all the evidence that I have such a theory at all. It's all too convenient, too perfect to have all that stacked against her; it feels staged. Rick may not even be forcibly restraining or confining Captain Zura at the moment, having convinced her that we fully believe she's a traitor, and that her only chance of survival is with her captors. Goodness knows most of your more straightforward military clowns would want to lock her up and try to pump her for information the moment we get her back, but I know better."

"And what exactly is it that you know?" Andross asked, peering back at Connor with keen eyes.

"I know Rick's style," the avian declared, "he likes to turn his enemies against each other, put them at each other's throats with infighting and second-guessing, so he can carry out his plans with relative impunity. To pursue the so-called 'leads' he's left us is to chase our own tails, wasting resources and time better used to accomplish the important mission: Olsen."

"This is all simply hyperbole and conjecture, Mr. Griffon," Andross pointed out, testing the spy's findings, "Suppose Captain Zura actually is a defector, what then?"

"It doesn't matter," Connor said quickly, shaking his head, "my plan accounts for the possibility that she is a turncoat."

"So you have plan already," Andross said, slowly nodding his head in approval, "impressive."

"And if you don't mind, I need to get started on it yesterday," Connor took his comm out and sent a call, to which spy received an almost instant response, "This is Connor Griffon of Venom Intelligence," he informed swiftly, "get me General Silver, now–"

"Hold that thought a moment, please." Andross said, holding up his hand.

"What's wrong?" the avian spy asked, setting his comm aside.

"I admire your initiative, Mr. Griffon, but there is one problem."

"And what's that?"

"Fear," Andros offered as his answer.

"I'm not afraid of him." Connor declared, shooting a stern look back, "I'm not afraid of anything he might have planned either."

"No, not Cooney. It's me you're afraid of," Andross corrected, "you made these mistakes because you were afraid of what I would think and do if it became known to me. I'm disappointed you weren't forthright and upfront, but I'm not angry, and I don't intend to discipline you in any way, as that would only impede your efforts to correct the mistake. Instead, I would like to offer you my help..."

Slowly, Dr. Andross reached into his sport coat and retrieved a small autoinjector from the inside pocket, then set it on the table in front the spy.

"I don't need that," Connor refused, knowing exactly what was inside the canister of that injector, "It won't help me."

"I can't have you be afraid, Mr. Griffon, lest you continue to be sloppy on account of your fears," Andross insisted, "I need you to be focused."

"I am focused," Connor insisted right back, "now more than ever in my life."

"Yes, I'm quite sure you will be."

Without another word, Dr. Andross simply scooped up the computing tablet and made that the focus of his attention again. The two Shadow Guards loomed over him, watching the avian spy through the black visors of their helmets, waiting.

With no other option but to do so, Connor Griffon accepted his superior's 'help', and injected himself with the nanite serum, hoping desperately that he wouldn't come to regret it later.

"Do what must be done, Mr. Griffon," Andross said in a friendly casual voice, making his words all the more unsettling, "Let nothing stand in your way."

\


We have nothing to fear but fear itself.

-Franklin D. Roosevelt


Fear Itself


/

Sasha Zura lay nearly asleep in the rustled sheets, against the warm feline body of Maya Kaido after their first night together.

In a word, she was content.

She had fulfilled her longtime desire to be with Maya, and Maya, for her part, seemed more than satisfied by it. Someone Sasha had long counted on, with whom the husky could share her innermost troubles as her steadfast friend, was now also someone Sasha could share her innermost joys and pleasures with as her lover...

Love...

For the first time in Sasha's often lonely life, she had someone with whom she could truly say she loved, and who would love her unconditionally in return. It was far beyond the simple physical pleasures though, however potent those pleasures may be. This newly christened love with Maya brought a profound, unprecedented sense of security to Sasha; a security in knowing that, no matter what, there would be someone there at her side, someone to share herself with. Furthermore, it meant Sasha could reward Maya for that emotional security in so many ways, up to and including intimate physical pleasures if she wanted it.

Lying in the bed, cuddling Maya's beautiful body with her own, Sasha allowed herself to doze off in her new lover's arms. Tonight would be the first of so many more nights like this to come. All Sasha wanted at that point was for this bliss to continue as long as possible, to be with Maya like this as long as they could, even forever if that can be...

In a word, she was content.

I love you too Sasha, but... it's not the same love.

The husky felt her whole being jolt, like she'd been thrown across the room. Then she was struck by a wave of unbearable pain, right in her chest, followed soon by a swell of fear, of dread–

Sasha felt herself gasp as she tried to bolt upright, only to find she'd been restrained. In an instant of panic, she thought she might've been captured and was being held somewhere. When her eyes opened though and she'd gotten a better sense of her surroundings, Sasha instead found herself in the back seat of a hovercar, straining against the seatbelt secured over her. The vehicle was stopped, and there was no one in the front seats, or in the seat next to her. Everyone had gone...

She felt something on her shoulder, and whipped her head around to find Alastar standing outside the open door on Sasha's right. With his hand on her shoulder and a worried look in his eyes, he asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Sasha lied with an irritated huff, and brushed Alastar's hand off while she fumbled out of the hovercar. Alastar reacted to this with a quiet sigh, and a slightly pained look that knew better, but didn't want to call her out for it directly.

It was dark outside, and cold, enough so that Sasha felt herself shiver as she stepped out onto a wide, sparsely populated concrete parking lot that was lit mainly by a series of streetlamps. The frigid air was filled with the sounds of busy vehicle traffic a short ways away, and flat wide expanse of concrete surrounding them was interrupted by a number of refueling stations and a small building, the latter of which Sasha concluded was a maintenance and repair facility. At the other end of the parking lot was a parked heavy ground transport, with a pair of large, standardized shipping containers secured to it.

"Where are we, exactly?" Sasha finally asked.

"We're Just outside Port Bivald, getting ready to make our escape off-world." the scruffy mercenary answered as he held out a jacket for Sasha.

She grudgingly snatched the jacket from Alastar's grasp and pulled it around her, questioning, "and how do you plan on doing that? Venom Intelligence should be on total alert at the moment, looking for any and all possible escape routes."

"Believe me, they are," Cadan Olsen said with a tone of urgency, fidgeting and shooting glances as he spoke.

"We have them in a bit of a bind, though:" Rick responded with a subtle sly confidence as he approached the group, "Venom doesn't want to lose face or risk information getting to the public by making a huge obvious deal about Olsen's escape. So they'll try to keep all of their security precautions as low-key as possible."

"But that doesn't explain how we slip past it," Sasha pointed out.

"You see that transport just over there?" the older raccoon asked, pointing out the ground transport Sasha had seen earlier.

Sasha gave the older spy a suspicious look, saying, "You don't mean..."

"Oh yeah," Alastar said with a small nod.

"We'll be shipping ourselves," Rick confirmed, "Ultimately, we'll be shipped out to Titania as part of a construction supply convoy."

The husky shook her head at the explanation, and added, "That doesn't seem very–"

She saw a figure approach from the transport, and instantly stopped. As this unknown newcomer came closer, she could see more detail. He was a gray and brown fox of slight build, wearing a baggy red coverall jumpsuit. The vulpine newcomer carried himself with a kind of high-energy optimism that Sasha was pretty sure was fake. His steps practically bounced as he made his way toward the group, offering them a smile and a wave, like he was the plucky next-door neighbor.

"It's alright, Sasha," Rick reassured, having correctly guessed the husky's suspicions, "he's with us."

"Sancho Cupelo, at your service, my good lady!" the fox greeted with flamboyant gusto, offering a flourishing bow to go with it, "It is my genuine pleasure to meet you in the flesh at last."

"Sancho here is the part of my little operation you haven't actually seen yet, but I think you've seen some of his handiwork," Rick explained.

"You seem like a pretty good kiss-ass," Sasha commented, giving the fox a suspicious sideways glance, "but what exactly do you do?"

"Oh great," Alastar groaned as he rubbed his forehead, "don't you get him started–"

"I'm glad you asked!" Sancho exclaimed, cutting the scruffy merc off, "In addition to ass-kissing, I am also a dashing thief, mysterious brigand, despicable scumbag, passionate lover, devious con-man, and for the last several fun-filled months: shipping supervisor 'Miguel Boreas'," the fox announced, presenting the nametag on his jumpsuit that confirmed as much, "all so that I may help prepare this daring getaway. And then Rick had to rope you into it with such a foul underhanded trick," the fox added with a melodramatic bitterness, which Sasha couldn't quite take seriously from such an outrageous fop, "I hope you kicked his teeth in for taking you away from your dearest like that."

"Punched him in the throat, actually," Sasha cooly corrected.

"Yeah," Rick confirmed, rubbing his neck where the husky had struck him, "and my voice is gonna be a little hoarse for weeks now."

"Don't pretend you didn't deserve it, you conniving old coot," Alastar chided, which Sasha couldn't help but agree with.

"Geez, I'm not that old!" the raccoon protested.

"Yes, yes, and as amusing as this all is, I'd like to get moving along," Olsen interrupted, anxiously looking toward the dormant transport, "The sooner we're underway, the sooner we're out of danger."

"Don't you worry my fine feathered compatriot, we're still right on schedule," Sancho assured as he draped an arm over the owl's shoulders and led him toward the transport, "Come, let me show you to your accommodations."

On closer inspection, the containers themselves were climate-controlled varieties, usually used to transport items that were sensitive to changes in temperature, moisture, pressure, or chemical makeup. The containers themselves probably weren't terribly comfortable, but if they were well supplied, they could easily make the trip.

"Accommodations?" Olsen grumbled, looking over the bulky transport with skepticism, " More like our stowaway holes."

"You wound me!" Sancho protested, and stepped toward one of the containers. The fox opened a protective panel with a digital readout and small console underneath. He held up his ID badge to a reader on the console, and placed a finger on the fingerprint reader when prompted. With an obnoxious beep, and the clanking of lock mechanisms, the container's doors unlocked, and swung wide open.

The inside wasn't quite what Sasha was expecting to find. There were two beds, ample storage spaces, a desk with a small refrigerator tucked underneath, and even what appeared to be a small bathroom tucked into one corner. It was like a tiny apartment in there, prompting the husky to ask, "What did you do? Stuff a ship's crew cabin inside a shipping container?"

"That's not terribly far from the truth, actually," Sancho confirmed as he proudly continued his showcase, "These container-cabins are outfitted with independent power, life support and gravity, with enough food and water to last the trip. I've also prepped some extra supplies that we'll need once we arrive on Titania."

"You got all my new gear in there too, right?" Alastar asked with a small hint expectation.

"Yes Alasatar," the fox sighed with exaggerated exasperation, "I packed all your favorite toys, so you won't get bored on the way there."

The scruffy canid mercenary's face lit up and his ears perked, and Sasha could almost see and hear him pump his fist and whisper a 'yes', like a little boy on his birthday who got just what he wanted. A part of her was a little curious what Alastar had waiting for him now, what could get him so excited.

"So, how is this even going to work, exactly?" Sasha questioned, posing her inquiry to everyone, since it seemed she was being left out of the loop, "Venom Intelligence is going to be on the lookout at every port, and I bet they'll be inspecting just about every ship trying to leave atmosphere."

"Maybe so," Rick agreed with a shrug, "but there's at least one thing they can't so easily monitor or stop: high-priority bulk freight, which we'll be piggybacking on to get out of here."

"I don't quite follow," Sasha said with uncertain slant to her words.

"Thing is, there's a large interplanetary freighter scheduled to leave Macbeth soon," Rick began explaining in long-winded detail, as Sasha had come to expect of the old raccoon, "among a few other things, her most important cargo is going to be heavy construction equipment, specialized building materials, arms, armor and ammunition. It's the major building blocks for all the military bases being set up on Titania. With a cargo of this scale and value, the people responsible for it tend to get really ornery when someone interferes with its smooth and timely transit. So if Connor so much as delays the freighter for a cursory inspection, he will get such an earful from the ship's captain, from Venom's logistics team, from the upper brass, possibly even Andross himself. It'd be exactly the kind of high-profile reaction Venom Intelligence can't afford to push."

"And as a responsible shipping supervisor, it's within my prerogative to accompany my own high-priority cargo to make sure it arrives safely," Sancho said as he placed himself next to Rick and Sasha, throwing his arms across both of their shoulders, adding in mock-sly tone with shifty glances, "so if anyone does come sniffing around around, I can assure them my cargo is clean."

"Uh huh..." Sasha replied with a bit of discomfort.

"Well then, let's get a move on, and be sure to make yourselves nice and comfy," Sancho concluded, slapping both the husky and raccoon on the shoulders as he stepped away, "once you're all sealed up inside, there's no getting out until we reach Titania."

"I don't ask you to like it, Sasha; hell, there's really nothing to like" Cooney said with a weary gruffness, "but what I do ask for trust that I've worked out this op to the letter, done all my homework, and have your best interest in mind. I mean, it's not like I haven't been doing this kind of thing most of my life or anything."

\


Comments,
"Anonymous" Richard Cooney, former member of Lylat Central Intelligence.

I do rather like how that op came together: months and months of planning and prep, culminating in one fairly smooth day, at least on my end.

Though I wasn't especially keen on stopping to explain myself to Zura at every step, since it took time out of the smooth running of the operation, it ultimately was necessary. I needed her trust, and because of how frustratingly suspicious and skeptical Sasha was of me, the only way I knew to gain and keep her trust on such short notice was with honest and thorough explanations of my actions and motives. In many ways, it was a lot like many of the agent training sessions I used to do for the agency.

I was pretty good at it from what I remember, I even trained that ambitious upstart Connor Griffon when he was still a fairly fresh recruit. To his credit, I did underestimate just how quickly Connor bounced back from his blunder and got to work, and boy did he work fast...


/

Citadel Alpha, Briefing Room.

"Bah! This meeting is a pointless waste of time," General Silver growled to everyone sitting around the table, "Captain Zura is under my command, which makes this a matter of internal affairs for Macbeth Special Forces. Why, I have a right mind to take full responsibility of this entire debacle and clean it up myself," the gorilla added, shooting a disdainful glare at Connor Griffon.

"Well whatever you all decide, I'd like to be the one to bring Sasha in," Kell Zura said in a stern, determined voice as he leaned forward on his seat, elbows on the table, "I deserve that at least."

Commander Kell Zura was technically contractor working for Venom, placed in charge of what the military brass referred to as 'defector units' or alternatively, 'defective units' among the more cynical of them. They were a hodgepodge of Cornerian soldiers that strongly disagreed with their own homeworld's course of action, but also didn't know much about independent mercenary work.

"Absolutely not! Out of the question!" General Silver bellowed, jabbing an outraged finger at the husky, "You know your position puts you in a difficult situation– I don't even know what you're doing here–"

"She is my daughter, you blundering bastard of a baboon!" Kell spat at the gorilla, "I swear, if my Sasha is being held against her will, there is no force in whole the goddamn universe that will keep me from getting her out of danger, and ending whoever put her in danger." Then he turned to Griffon, with fire in his eyes and a promise in his words, "Put me on it, and I will complete this mission."

That infernal sense of paternal responsibility...

Connor didn't much like it himself, but Commander Kell Zura would surely cause far more trouble if he were left out of the loop rather than being included from the start. The combination of his savage ruthlessness, his military experience, and his potent paternal instincts could be a powerful asset to the operation, but also it also made him volatile and unstable. This is why Kell Zura had to be handled with the utmost care, like a highly sensitive explosive. If used right, he could be highly effective at key points; used poorly however, and he could blow up in everyone's faces.

"This is preposterous! Family and military always cause trouble when they cross paths." Silver scoffed, throwing his arms up in disgust, "If you were under my command, I would have you relieved of duty until the situation was resolved–"

"That's enough! Both of you!" Connor Griffon shouted, putting his foot down.

The avian spymaster shot commanding glares at both Geneal Silver and Commander Zura, waiting until both of them settled down –however reluctantly– before he continued, "The mission itself is primarily to eliminate Olsen, secondarily to eliminate Richard Cooney. We should take care not to lose sight of that. How best to pursue the mission though depends largely on Sasha Zura, and where she stands–"

"She stands with us!" Sergeant Gavin Fletcher declared with pride, thumping himself in the chest as he stood up.

He was soon joined by Specialist Silas Vance, who added, "there's no way she'd turn her back on Macbeth, or on Venom."

"She's fought and bled alongside us," Corporal Anton Xavier said in solidarity with his squadmates, "that makes her one of us."

"Be that as it may, she is Cornerian by birth," General Silver reminded his soldiers, "don't you forget that."

"Wherever she came from means nothing, sir," Sergeant Fletcher insisted, "it's who she is now that matters."

"And she's a true soldier of Macbeth to the end!" Specialist Vance whooped, pumping his fist in the air.

"Agreed," Corporal Xavier affirmed with a solemn nod.

Griffon had to admire the loyalty of Captain Zura's team, and the utter certainty they had of her allegiance. They were a welcome chorus of optimism in an otherwise lopsided heap of cynics. Between their intimate firsthand knowledge of and experiences with Sasha, and their own exceptional skills as special forces soldiers, they would be an invaluable asset to the operation no matter which way it flew, or where Captain Zura's loyalties truly lay.

"As I said before, the key to how we approach this operation is Sasha Zura herself," Connor reiterated, "You all know her and she knows each of you personally, trusts you. It's why I've brought all of you here. Yet, however loyal to Venom or Macbeth, to her family or her family-in-arms we believe Captain Zura is, the General is right: we have to consider the other possibility..."

The avian spymaster paused a moment, and turned his attention to one last figure seated around the conference table, "Major Hunt, you've been awfully quiet so far. Care to weigh in on the situation?" And at that, all eyes turned to him, waiting for his response.

Major Salazar Hunt, a training officer for Macbeth Special Forces, was an exceptionally innocuous figure at first glance. He was a plain, nondescript brown colored rat, somewhat slight of build, and with a demeanor so quiet and unassuming that he could be overlooked entirely if one didn't know to look for him. He'd said absolutely nothing during the meeting before, and simply kept to the background, waiting.

"You did train her, Major," Connor pressed in, leaning toward the rodent, "What can you tell us about Sasha?"

Major Hunt took a moment of consideration as he sighted down the spymaster before him, but it was only a brief moment.

"Captain Zura has a fierce temper," the rat's voice was like a distant yet piercing whisper, penetrating the silence, "It gives her focus, determination, the driving will to accomplish her goals no matter what obstacles lay before her. I have yet to meet a soldier as naturally driven as she."

"She gets that from me, for sure." Kell Zura butted in.

"She is slow to trust, quick to judge, and will not be easily swayed," Major Hunt continued, all but ignoring the canine Commander's intrusion, "If she is being held, she will fight it to her dying breath, one way or another, even if it means biding her time for an opportunity. If she is a traitor, I would expect such an arrangement was a very long time in the making, one way or another. Depending on the circumstances, she will either be an invaluable asset, or a major threat to the mission: knowing this piece of intelligence is essential–"

"Yes, we know that, Major Obvious," General Silver drawled, "Tell us something we don't know, if you please."

Much to the annoyed gorilla's chagrin, Major Salazar Hunt did just that, saying, "I can obtain this intelligence: all I need is a clear line of sight between myself and Captain Zura."

To this, the entire room fell into a stunned silence while everyone, including Connor Griffon, simply stared at the meager rodent.

After a few seconds of this awkwardness, Major Hunt simply said, "That is all."

"Well... Alright then... Thank you for that, Major," The avian spymaster said, doing all he could to break up the strange moment, "Commander Zura."

"What? Yeah?" the husky responded, suddenly jarred from his own silence.

"Have you worked with special forces units before?" Griffon asked.

"I had my fair share," Kell answered with a knowing nod, "worked a number of missions with Dagger, the Rangers, Dragoon Guard..."

Hearing this last item on Commander Zura's list, everyone stopped, and looked at the husky with curious, questioning eyes, prompting him to ask, "Did I say something?"

"One of Cooney's accomplices, Alastar Korvyn, is a former Dragoon Guard," Connor informed, "Let me pull up some files..."

"We've... worked with him a few times," Sergeant Fletcher confessed to the husky, "his work is pretty damn good too."

"Ah! Here we are," Griffon exclaimed as a holographic display lit up in the center of the conference table. It showed some footage recovered from Axiom Tower, related to the mission known as 'Operation: Bank'.

"Look at him go," Kell said with an amused chuckle, watching the mercenary and some of his more impressive feats, "like a regular circus animal that guy, classic Dragoon Guard."

While the video continued to roll, Connor noticed General Silver and Major Hunt quietly discussing something among themselves, in whispers too soft even for the spymaster to pick up on.

"You know," the husky Commander said once the video finished playing, "I think I've got just the thing to take out this pesky Korvyn fellow..."

"Alright then, I think we're ready to get moving," Connor concluded, "General Silver, I want you in charge of the overall military aspects of this manhunt."

"As it should be," the gorilla heartily agreed.

"Commander Kell Zura, if there are no objections, you and your unit will be placed under Silver's command for the time being," Connor informed the husky, "You'll be off the books, of course, but you'll have access to General Silver's intelligence and resources, as well as mine."

"As long as General Quick-to-judge-Silver over here doesn't relieve me like he said he would," Kell said, jerking his head toward the gorilla, "I'm game."

"Give me no reason to, and I won't: you have my word," General Silver assured before making some decisions of his own, "Major Hunt will take direct command of Team Theta-Four, which will spearhead this operation with the support of Commander Zura and his unit. Understood?"

An obedient chorus of 'sir, yes sir!' chimed from the three enlisted men, all rearing to go.

"So, I take it you have some sort of plan?" Kell Zura asked.

"Better yet: I have Rick's plan." Connor answered with a sly gleam in his eyes.

"Do you now?" the General asked, curious, "this I have to hear."

"Rick already slipped my own net with Venom Intelligence, so we can be pretty sure he has a well thought out plan to escape Macbeth, and is well on his way off-world as we speak." the spymaster explained, "However, it's not a matter of actually catching Rick in the net, it's a matter of knowing where the holes in the net are, where he'll slip out, and being ready when he does. Once we funnel him down to the only few options he has, we can set up an ambush just when he thinks he's safe."

"A sound tactic," Major Hunt agreed quietly.

That's when Connor Griffon dropped his own little bombshell, announcing,"after reviewing Macbeth's security procedures, and catching up on recent events, I believe I know where Rick will be going, and how we can set our ambush."

\


Comments,
Anonymous Richard Cooney, former member of Lylat Central Intelligence.

I never, not in a hundred years, would have thought Connor Griffon could wrangle all of them together and get them to cooperate. I was expecting some kind of response, sure, but I never thought it would be a combination of the folks Connor managed to reel in. I was convinced, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that the very people Connor got would be considered too sensitive, or too close to the target to even be considered. I'd be damn proud of him if it weren't for all the trouble he wound up causing for us.

I had no way of knowing any of that during the trip though. We were all sealed up inside those specially prepared smuggling containers, with only a highly encrypted comm to Sancho Cupelo reserved for emergencies to contact the outside. Cadan Olsen and myself shared one, while Alastar and Sasha Zura rode in the other. The whole process of making the cross to Titania took about five days, and was a fairly boring time all things considered...


/

According to the clock on the desk, about four hours had passed since Sasha and Alastar were sealed inside their container-cabin. It was really the only means aside from rough body-clock estimates to judge the passing of time. In that time, all Sasha Zura could bring herself to do was lay down and think, and worry. No contest: this was just the worst day ever, period.

I love you too Sasha, but... it's not the same love.

For all the spy-craziness Rick and Alastar and dragged Sasha through, for all the danger that was inevitably ahead of her now, the troubled husky still couldn't get those pained words Maya had said out of her head. Maybe she was simply so used to life-threatening risk and paramilitary subterfuge that the situation now just sort of glazed over her, maybe thinking about something else was her way of coping with it all. Yet somehow, to Sasha it still felt like no mater how immediately dangerous her circumstances were, the absolute fear she was suffering from a jeopardized love seemed to make all of those bigger, broader, and ultimately more dangerous issues feel so small and simple.

On one level, it frustrated Sasha to feel this way. She was in a flight for her life, for billions of lives if this whole Red Dust thing was in play. Now more than any point in her career –her life– Sasha Zura needed to be on top of her game, ready to confront any threat and make split-second life-or-death decisions. She simply couldn't do these things to the best of her abilities if her emotions were making a complete wreck of herself.

One way or another, she had to put a lid on it, keep it together, push the emotions aside, at least for now. One thing she tried was to logically justify Maya's words and motives to calm herself down, but it was infinitely more difficult without Maya there, to hear her side in her own words...

Maya Kaido's ultimate goals in life were to settle down, to a relatively domesticated lifestyle. She didn't say it outright, but Sasha was pretty sure Maya was thinking about having children, and Sasha was simply biologically incapable of providing that for her. Never mind that, there were other possible workarounds, like adoption, and other avenues. Part of it could be their conflicting lifestyles. Sasha would be called away to secretive missions at awkward, inconvenient times; their first kiss and this morning came to mind. It was hard enough for military families in the first place –as Sasha would know, having grown up as part of one– but throwing special forces shenanigans on top of that just wrecks long-term stability–

But that's all going to change in the future anyway! After all this tension dies down, after Rick's little spy-adventure runs its course, what then? Rick agreed to help afterward, but to what end? It's not like the biter old raccoon was a relationship counselor or what-have-you. Sasha had no way of knowing what the future would hold, what it would be like, or even if she would be able to cross that bridge anyway...

It didn't help. Nothing helped. She was just spinning the wheels in her head, and they were taking her nowhere.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Sasha hoisted herself off the not-especially-comfy bed and took in the situation. Alastar was sitting at the small desk, with a tool kit on one side, and a neat stack of assorted gear on the other. He was hunched over, concentrating singularly on an item hidden from Sasha's view at the moment.

They hadn't really spoken since they'd been sealed inside for the trip. Mostly Sasha attributed it to Alastar feeling incredibly awkward about her since they first met back up. She did made a good effort at killing both him and Rick, however rage-fueled it was. Even though it was just hours ago, it felt so far away now for her now, but it might not have felt so far for him.

Still, one way or another, this awkwardness should end. If nothing else, it could give her something else to focus on, to distract from unhelpful thoughts...

"Hey," Sasha said to him quietly.

"Oh, hi," he replied, flinching in surprise as he snapped his head toward her to respond.

"What'cha working on there?" she asked, stepping behind his shoulder.

The main item in front of Alastar at the moment was a tight spool of high-density cable with a small motor attached, with a few other items scattered around the impromptu workbench.

"Just... prepping my gear," the scruffy canid merc stuttered, turning forward again and picking up a tool in one hand as he resumed his work, "got a few new items delivered for this mission."

"Ah yes, the 'toys' your little friend Sancho mentioned earlier," Sasha said in a friendlier tone, trying to ease the tension she could see all too easily in Alastar, "What exactly did he bring you anyway?"

"Right now I'm working on a pair of wrist-mounted grapple-tethers: gotta calibrate them just right, so they don't tear my arms off," he answered, gently tapping the spool and motor with the screwdriver in his hand. His next words though were filled with a kind of giddy excitement, barely containing a grin as he said, "but the real crème de la crème: a Personal G-diffuser with four-point thruster array, offering total airborne control."

"So it's a jet pack," Sasha guessed.

"Are you kidding? This beauty makes a 'jet pack' look as obsolete as slings and arrows!" Alastar guffawed, and continued with proud smirk on his face, "once I combine these new items with my armor, phantom module, and shield generator... I don't think there's a tactical threat I couldn't handle."

"You sure about that?" Sasha asked, letting a little air out of the bubble the merc was inflating for himself.

"Any threat within reason, of course," Alastar corrected with a shrug, and mumbled, "It's not like I can take down a whole starship on my own or anything..."

The merc tinkered for a few more seconds before he looked back, and saw Sasha was still there, a worried look on her face, so he asked, "What's up? You seem like you want to say something?"

"Yeah. It's just me, I guess," Sasha admitted, sitting on the bed opposite Alastar as she went into detail, "what I mean is: you went to so much trouble to get me through this crappy situation, and all I've done is snipe and snarl at you every moment. I've just been such a bitch to you lately..."

Hearing this, Alastar set down his tools and turned the chair he was in toward Sasha, saying in a far more serious tone now, "to be fair, I did wreck your life, I did lie to your face and use you: you're perfectly justified. I deserve every bit of bile and vinegar you have for me, so by all means, vent, please," he implored, opening his arms wide with the invitation, "honestly, I'd be much more worried if you warmed up to us straight away."

"I legitimately tried to kill you and Rick in a fit of rage, Alastar," she reminded the merc, "I think I've done about as much 'venting' at you as I can, and this passive-aggressive crap doesn't get anyone anywhere."

"Fair enough, I'll give you that," the merc agreed, sheepishly scratching the back of neck.

"I just... I really need someone to trust right now," Sasha confessed, feeling more than a little anxious as she did, "Goodness knows I can't trust Rick, or Olsen, and especially not that Cupelo clown."

"What, you're saying that person is me?" Alastar asked, holding a hand to his chest, with an utterly baffled look to his face, "after everything I've done to you, after I wrecked your life, you would trust me?"

"Yeah I know it's weird, but I realize that as long as you were all committed to this operation, my life was going to be wrecked either way: if not by you, then by Venom Intelligence," Sasha hurriedly explained, the words coming out easier now that she could actually verbalize them, "you were acting under Rick's orders, and carried them out like a good soldier should. As a soldier myself, I can't hold that against you too much, so I think we can call it even between us," having gotten that off her chest, she felt a little better adding, "Rick on the other hand still owes me, big time, and its only fair he rightfully becomes the recipient of my bitchiness."

"Do let him have it then," Alastar agreed, adding, "dodgy old bastard's been needing to be knocked down a few pegs lately anyway."

When Sasha spoke next, her tone took a much more serious, more carefully controlled tone, "I think now, at least some of my feelings are starting to come to terms with the facts," she reached out then and put her hand on Alastar's, and looked him straight in the eye, "You're the only person I can call a friend right now, Alastar. Now more than ever before, I need someone I can trust, and I'm more prepared to trust you –a fellow soldier– over a couple bitter old men and some fop I've never met before."

"Alright," the merc said with a solemn nod, looking back into Sasha's eyes, "I'll do my best to be worth your trust then."

"That's all I ask, Alastar. Thanks for having this talk with me, letting me get that off my chest."

"It's no problem, you seemed like you needed it."

"And it helped, a lot," Sasha admitted with a relieved sigh, finding it was significantly more therapeutic than she anticipated it'd be, "but enough about that, tell me more about these grapple-tethers your working on. Maybe I can help out."

"Sure thing," Alastar said, pulling out the second reel and motor assembly for Sasha, "grab a screwdriver, and I'll walk you through the steps..."

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Author Notes:

Good lord, over two years, and no updates; not a peep... Well, it looks like I'm back in business now!

For those of you who remember or once followed the Star Fox: Legacy series, I do plan on getting on top of that too. If I'm back, there's no way I'm just going to drop the one story that started it all for me, not when I still get messages about it after so long. I really only published this one first because, when I dug up my old notes and drafts, this chapter was a lot closer to being finished than anything else I was working on before I dropped off the radar.

Also, if there's anyone around who still remembers this story from that long ago, I've gone back through several earlier chapters and made some minor tweaks, mostly to clean up a couple awkward places. As long as you're sticking around, feel free to drop a line or two in the review field down there, or even send a pm if you're really ambitious.

One last thing: special shout-out to user NothingExtra, mostly for dragging my bum-ass out of the woodwork, and getting me excited to write for this series again.

Thanks again everybody. You all are such a huge reason I liked writing before, and why I'm back.

Edit: apparently, Docx still does weird things with italics.