Hidden Underground Compound: Titania
To say that Sasha Zura was left uneasy by these recent events would be one of the greatest understatements possible, but she couldn't show it, not now. She had to contain it, observe, and wait for the right opportunity.
Once Rick had said his piece to Sasha, the old raccoon left to fill Morrow in on the final touches of their grand plan, which was a conversation the husky was happy not to be part of. It was trying enough on her patience to go along with this scheme as far as she had, to put up with the convoluted shenanigans of espionage, but she just needed to hold out a bit longer, and it'd all be finished.
In the meantime, Sasha occupied her time by visiting the larger, busier sections compound across the bridge, across the water, and allowed her inner soldier to indulge itself. She took mental note of the locations and uses of the several prefabricated buildings throughout the compound: barracks, armory, repair shop and the like. She took note of the people: almost all reptilian native Titanian, almost all well-armed and well-outfitted for mobile desert operations. Ocasionally, Sasha might see a group of the caravaners talking in hushed whispers, only to go silent when they noticed Sasha's approach. They were preparing for something...
Yet despite now being in the midst of it, the hustle and bustle she saw from far off still felt distant and detached. Maybe it was simply that her thoughts were elsewhere, preoccupied by the complexities of the mission and decisions ahead of her. How exactly was she going to face both her father, and her old squadmates after everything that had happened ? How exactly was she going to move forward? Though events were moving quickly and she'd have to find answers, the husky actually would've preferred to be in the thick of the mission proper, in the midst of deadly combat, where the answers could be put on hold for a few moments–
"Hey! Zura!" a harsh woman's voice called out while she wandered the camp.
When she turned, Sasha saw it was someone she'd seen and heard briefly before when she first arrived. The speaker was a fairly mature raccoon woman, but with a distinctly unladylike scruffiness about her. Where a woman of more refined tastes may have a purse or handbag, she had a tool kit slung over her shoulder. In a similar vein, the raccoon woman sported a battered old headset with a grease-stained t-shirt and cargo pants. And yet despite all the rough edges, there was a spirited defiance to her that Sasha found intriguing.
"We weren't really properly introduced before," she said to Sasha, and promptly extended a well-worn hand, "I'm Rachelle Cooney."
"I didn't know Rick was married," Sasha said as she politely shook her hand.
"He's not, actually," Rachelle corrected, nearly groaning as she gave the husky a sharp, awkward look, "he's my brother."
"Oh! Gosh I'm so sorry!" the husky exclaimed, recoiling from her misstep.
"Don't sweat it," she dismissed with an amused chortle. "Rick and I have used marriage and lovers as part of cover IDs before. I've even been his 'mother' once, if you can believe that. I didn't come pestering you just to make you feel awkward though."
"Then why?" Sasha asked, "is it part of this crazy mission? Don't tell me there's even more to it now."
"Nah, that's all pretty much taken care of, thank goodness," the raccoon lady said, "but Alastar tells me you're in the market for some implants, am I right?"
"That's right," Sasha confirmed with a nod.
"Now honey, in this old gal's opinion, you've already got a bust to be proud of and envied for. You give 'em too much more and you'll have a chest like a pair of party balloons!" Rachelle said, cupping her hands over her own modest chest."It might be fun, but it'd be super conspicuous and obvious, and more than a little awkward too, especially when they start to deflate over the years–"
"Neural implants!" Sasha corrected vehemently, both flustered and annoyed.
"I know, I know, keep your pretty panties on," the raccoon lady replied, unable to hold back a brief laugh.
After that, Rachelle produced a small computing tablet from her tool bag and handed it to Sasha. On the screen were, thankfully, images and specifications for a neural interface.
"For your consideration, I give you the Space Dynamics NGX seven, the same model Alastar uses," the raccoon lady said while Sasha briefly scrolled through the data in front of her, "I keep a few of these interfaces handy in case that oaf breaks one of his, and since Alastar volunteered to help you acclimate, it'll be easier for the both of you if you have a model he's familiar with."
"Seems reasonable," Sasha said as she handed the tablet back.
"Then lets talk about payment," Rachelle stated, taking her tablet back and slipping it into her tool bag, "for the interface and implant procedure, you're looking at a price of about twenty-thousand credits."
"What?! I don't have that kind of money lying around!" Sasha protested, "not on a soldier's meager salary!"
"This is state-of-the-art neural cybernetics equipment, I can't just give these out, and then there's the implant surgery itself to consider," the raccoon lady insisted. "You know how hard it is to get a doctor who knows what they're doing to work on something like this, and do it on the sly?"
"There has to be something we could work out," the husky grumbled as she scratched her head.
"There's a few options available, but we'll have to figure it out later," Rachelle said as she turned around, "look's like your ride is ready."
Just then, the 4x4 vehicle Sasha and the others arrived in shortly before pulled up, but it looked far worse fore wear now. The outer body was completely riddled with blaster scorches, with several panels also dented or torn off entirely. The vehicle must have been carefully mangled, since it looked on the outside like it might not have been able to move at all.
"What the hell happened to it?" Sasha asked.
In response, Sancho Cupelo emerged from the driver side of the 4x4 and stepped down. "After we were made our daring escape from General Aster's convoy, we were attacked by these desert caravaners who thought it was a Venomian scout. In the confusion, you managed to overpower your captors. Rick, Olsen and I escaped with the riders, and you took Alastar captive..." At this, the grayish fox invited Sasha to enter the vehicle.
"I know that part," Sasha said as she stepped up, "Morrow filled me in on the plan's premise already..."
Once she climbed up and inside, she was amused to find Alastar slumped in the rear of the cab. As the scruffy merc was now, his armor and gear was stripped away with his hands bound behind his back. All he wore was an undershirt, plus his trousers and boots, all without armor plates or any of his useful extras. He wasn't completely deprived though: at the opposite end of the cab was a bulging bag with a sword handle sticking out, just in case he needed his gear.
"I gotta admit, this is a good look for you," Sasha quipped, seeing Alastar's humbled state.
"I dunno, this shirt can get a little tight and itchy," the scruffy canid joked.
"Careful, or I might get some ideas you'd rather I didn't have," Sasha warned as she settle into the driver's seat.
And out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alastar squirming with confused wide eyes in reaction. She'd let him stew in his little puddle of awkward a bit longer, at least until they were outside. For now, Sasha started up the battered 4x4, and moved toward the elevator to the surface.
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The Price of Trust
/
Aster's Camp: Titania
Engineer-General Suleiman Aster was entirely focused on the work at hand.
Though his body's senses were aware of the harsh desert around him, of the heat and sand and deathly dry conditions, he instead devoted his focus to his senses beyond. The physical battle against the Goras had been won and the titan subdued, but that was only the very start of the fight. Although ancient and highly exotically constructed compared to conventional means, the core of the Goras was not entirely unlike an advanced robot's AI, complete with internal fail-safes, firewalls, and other such countermeasures meant to repel intrusion and alteration. More than that: it could learn, think, intuit, modify its own internal architecture as needed to stave off Aster's relentless siege.
It was impressive, to be sure, but it would not hold him for much longer. The Goras was neither the most sophisticated, nor the most dangerous of constructs Aster had tangled with. With those lessons learned from prior encounters and experiments, the Goras would soon be under his complete command, just the same as the flock of drones that circled and directly interacted with the colossus now–
Incoming Transmission. Stand by...
Since this alert overrode the transceiver lockout in his neural interface, the transmission could have only one possible source. Sure enough, the Elder simian's head appeared in his sight, the signal wired directly to his visual cortex.
"Dr. Andross," Aster greeted, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"No pleasure in it, I'm afraid," the other replied in a weary tone. "This situation with Intelligence is growing tiresome. I'm implementing Contingency Five immediately, before it goes on any further."
"Is that the wisest course?" the lizard asked, somewhat perturbed.
"It's not ideal, of course, but these things happen," Andross admitted. "You know what to do."
"I see," Aster said, and the transmission was cut.
With Contingency Five being the case, Aster supposed he could use a good practice target for the Goras...
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/
The drive across the empty desert, with only sand and sky as the scenery, and Alastar as company, was straightforward and boring. Naturally, it didn't take long for conversation to take over, and there was at least one subject Alastar might have some useful insights to...
"Can you believe she wanted to charge that much for an interface like yours?" Sasha said in a huff over her shoulder as she drove.
"Look, if you don't like the price, see if you can negotiate it down before flying off the handle," Alaster urged from his 'captive' position a short ways back. "Haggling is something of an art form in the gray markets like these... Although..."
"Having a thought?"
"Well, if you factor in a typical top-shelf merc's rate for the job you're doing, that alone should cover most of the price of the interface and procedure. I'd bet you can also get Olsen to do the implant procedure for free once all this is done," the scruffy merc suggested. "Hang that over her head and see if Rachelle changes her tune."
"Wait, how much are you being paidfor all this?" Sasha asked, having not given it much thought until now.
"I'm being paid well enough, and I'm working off a debt," Alastar admitted.
"What kind of debt is it, if you don't mind me asking?"
"You don't just 'quit' the Dragoon Guard. The hardware in my body was still technically 'Cornerian Military Property'," he explained. "Normally if I resign or get dishonorably discharged, I have to have the implants removed, and I have to front the cost of the procedure myself."
"And you still have yours..."
At that moment, Sasha recalled what Rick had said about Morrow's techniques, "Agent Morrow on the other hand prefers to approach potential assets that are compromised or vulnerable, and offer them a 'way out' through service to the CSB, and to herself especially."
"Quite a story behind that, actually–" Alastar began, but cut himself short as the 4x4 slowed down, and ultimately stopped. "Why are we stopping?"
The husky didn't answer. She stepped out of the driver's seat, walked right past the bewildered merc.
"What are you doing?" he asked, getting suspicious.
Sasha took hold of Alastar's hefty bag of gear, and tossed it off the rear deck of the 4x4 where it flopped onto the sun-baked sand outside.
"Get out," she commanded in a flat voice.
"Hold on just a damn minute," Alastar protested as he stood up. "You need to start explaining yourself, right now."
So she did just that, and said, "I'm not going along with the plan."
"What do you mean you're 'not going along with the plan'!?"
"Do I seriously have to spell it out for you?"
"Maybe you should," Alastar replied as a stern look took over his roughened features. "I'd like to hear you say it out loud and clear to my face."
"Screw. You. All." Sasha growled as she pulled a handgun from her hip and aimed squarely at Alastar. With barely contained rage, she continued, "is that loud and clear enough for you?"
"Clear enough, yeah," the scruffy mercenary said with a sigh, along with an uncanny calm considering his position. He shuffled toward the vehicle's rear deck, then suddenly snapped back around, shouting, "actually no!"
A thin cord shot from Alastar's outstretched arm toward Sasha: the damn grapple-tether he'd been working on. How the hell did she miss that?
In an instant, the tether-line caught Sasha's handgun at the same time she fired, making the cab ring out from the shot.
"Argh!" Alastar cried out, reeling after being stuck in the chest. Despite the injury, he still managed to tug his grapple-line in hard, yanking the handgun right out of Sasha's hand. As the scruffy merc flinched though, the blaster ended up flung far behind him, clear off the deck and to the outside.
No time to waste.
With a shout of fury, Sasha charged the stricken Alastar and delivered a flying knee. He barely blocked it, staggering back onto the rear deck from the force of her assault. She didn't give the mercenary time to recover as she twisted into powerful full-body kick, and sent Alastar toppling backward off the rear deck–
Just as she turned to get back to the driver's position though, a sudden relentless tug jolted her backward, and she too was forced off the 4x4. The husky landed flat on her back with a hefty thud, losing a bit of breath as her impact kicked up a puff of dust and sand.
Furious, Sasha scrambled to her feet to find Alastar doing the same, and reeling in his infernal grapple-tether again. For a short instant, they just glared at each other over the scorched sands. Then Sasha spotted something nearby from the corner of her eye: Alastar's bag of gear, with his sword's handle jutting right out.
They both had the same idea, and they both dashed for the weapon. Sasha was closer and quicker, but Alastar shot out his grapple-line at the sword's hilt. While Alastar was still a good two meters out, She took hold of the blade just as the grapple-line snared the handle. In a quick yet awkward motion, Sasha drew the sword and cut Alastar's grapple-line.
Finally rendered more-or-less helpless, Sasha held Alastar's own blade against him.
At this turn of events, the scruffy canid backed off, demanding "what the actual bloody hell has gotten into you?!"
"Go back to Rick, and Morrow, and all their precious little cronies, and tell them what's happened here," Sasha snarled, standing between Alastar and the 4x4. "I'm sure Rick has some backup plan tucked up his sleeve he can use."
"Don't be stupid!" Alastar scolded. "You need me to make this ploy work."
"I have all the backup I need," the husky countered. "I'm not going to be someone's strung-up puppet dancing their tune. I'll deal with this my own way."
"If you go to the Enigma alone, you're as good as dead." the scruffy merc warned. "Is that what your family would want? Is that what Maya would want?"
With that, Alastar had struck the single most painful nerve Sasha had. Overcome with rage, she advanced on Alastar, and leveled the point of the sword at his neck.
"You stop right there you two-faced lying bastard. Whether willingly or otherwise, you're not coming with me."
Now that they were closer, and not locked in furious combat, Sasha noticed something off. The blaster shot that hit Alastar before should have been lethal, or at least debilitating. Yet here he stood, little worse for wear for it. There was a nasty scorched burn on his shirt, but she couldn't see any wound on Alastar himself that wasn't superficial...
"Can you at least tell me why you're going off the rails like this?" the scruffy canid implored.
"You damn-well know why!" Sasha spat back.
"I think you and I have vastly different ideas about what we think we know."
"Don't you get cute with me," the husky chided back, keeping the blade ready. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will,and you're really tempting me right now.
Alastar let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, saying, "I guess you'll just have to hurt me then, because I'm not leaving you."
"Fine!" Sasha roared, and swung the blade low at his knees.
Faster than Sasha thought possible, Alastar tore his shirt off his back, and used the wadded cloth to catch and grapple the blade without cutting his hand.
"You've all lied to me, manipulated me, got me to trust you the expense of everything I give a damn about! Why is this going to be any different?" the husky demanded. "How do I know you aren't gonna screw me over again?!"
"Because if you let them, they will screw you over!" Alastar said in desperation, holding off Sasha's assault with only the shirt off his back. "Morrow wants you in her private roster, Rick is using you to cover his own arse, and even Rachelle is trying to gouge her prices–"
Having heard enough, Sasha swung her foot up, jamming her boot right in the scruffy canid's groin. A painful groan escaped Alastar from the impact and sudden agony below, and he backed off to collect himself.
"You think I don't know that?" Sasha said, glowering back. "It's why I'm going back to the people who give half a damn about me. I can actually work with them."
Partly recovered now, Alastar looked up, saying in quiet painful tones, "how much do you think Connor Griffon, or General Silver, or their superiors really care about you?"
"Don't you dare you judge them. You have no right–"
"I have every bloody right!" the scruffy canid snapped back, standing tall as he stepped forward. "I was in your boots not too long ago: faced with orders I couldn't follow anymore, on a mission I couldn't complete in clear conscious, in service to commanders who couldn't give half a damn about what I could plainly see, about how it's all gone to pieces, and how we're left holding the bag."
"Oh, right, the kids and your silly sob-story mission. How utterly, sickeningly, trite," Sasha spat, rolling her eyes. "Just another goddamn lie in your cover story. Did you come up with that precious nugget on your own, or did Rick feed it to you?"
"It wasn't a lie!" Alastar roared, full of anger as he took another step forward.
Sasha jabbed the tip of the sword at Alastar's bare chest, ready to run him through at the slightest provocation.
"Just cut the crap Alastar, right now," the husky ordered. "I know you're working for Gillian Morrow, that she let you keep your implants in exchange for service to her."
"What?! No, absolutely not!" the scruffy merc protested. "Where did you even get that crazy idea?"
"Rick told me how Morrow acquires assets, how she looks for compromised individuals, or fabricates some situation she can pull them out of, and–"
"Let me be absolutely clear, Sasha:" Alastar cut her off, now with a grim, haunted tone, "no matter how much she may try to promise me, or what kind of threats she'd bring to bear against me, I would never follow and order from Gillian Morrow ever again."
"What do you mean, 'again'?" Sasha questioned with a furrowed brow.
"I've never lied to you, Sasha, not once, not ever," the scuffy canid said, opening his arms wide despite the blade pressed against his heart. "The most I've done is not tell the whole truth, but that ends right now, if you'll let me say my piece."
The righteous fury in Sasha wanted to end it now, to neutralize Alastar and continue with her own agenda as she'd initially intended, but other factors were in play now. She had him completely at her mercy, if only for the moment, and there was just enough nagging doubt tugging at her sleeve to make the merest of compromises. She figured at worst, she'd only lose a few minutes.
"Fine, whatever: talk," Sasha reluctantly relented. "If I don't like what I hear though, I'll cut you open with your own blade, and leave you to bleed out on the sand."
"I'd save you the trouble and fall on my sword myself," Alastar agreed, and he said his piece. "Gillian Morrow was in command of the mission that made me quit in the first place: I attacked Lylat Central Intelligence..."
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Author Note:
I'd originally meant this chapter to go on much longer, to include Alastar's full story here and what happens immediately after. It took a lot more agonizing over it than I ought to admit, but I finally decided to break this moment up into two separate chapters, and leave this on a bit of a cliffhanger. Maybe it seems obvious now, maybe it'll make more sense when the next chapter is released (hopefully much sooner this time). Whatever the case, I figured I'd done enough dilly-dallying around and should just post *something*.
If it's crap, I'm sure you'll let me know, because as always, your feedback is most welcome.
