Macbeth,
Easthold Academy Grounds, Transit Station,
The First Mission.
Though she kept it outwardly contained, Sasha Zura was absolutely furious. This was all starting to seem like a goddamn snipe-hunt; a fool's errand, a sick form of hazing or practical joke done to new junior officers just for kicks.
She followed General Silver's instructions precisely to the letter, which brought her to an empty, deserted platform of the academy transit station. There was no attendant, no embarking or disembarking passengers, no custodial staff maintaining the facility, no one who looked like a cadet or instructor, and no transport either. It was entirely and completely devoid. Not only that, after all the walking around that led her here, the gaudy dress uniform covering Sasha was starting to itch and chafe in places, which didn't help her many simmering frustrations.
Just as the husky officer was about to get her comm and contact the General, she was alerted by a set of footsteps approaching from behind.
She turned to see the newcomer, and saw a raptor avian dressed in a modest, casual suit. He held a small computing tablet in one hand, from which he was reading as he approached.
"Captain Sasha Zura, Special Forces?" the avian fellow greeted, looking up from his tablet.
"That's me, yes," the husky confirmed as she eyed the newcomer with polite scrutiny. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage though, Mr...?"
"Agent Connor Griffon, Venom Intelligence," the other replied with a polite nod once prompted. "You come highly recommended by your new CO, General Silver. Seriously, that oaf of an ape gushes over you like a giddy fanboy. It's kind of embarrassing, actually–"
"I take it you're my mission?" Sasha interrupted, suppressing an annoyed huff.
So it wasn't a joke after all, in spite of it seeming like a childish game. Like other soldiers, Sasha had been informed of the role Intelligence plays in military operations, and the contributions of military personnel in Intelligence operations. She'd also heard many stories and rumors from enlisted soldier and officer cadet alike of the capricious nature of spies, the unreliability of their information in the field, their oft-despised 'holier-than-thou' disposition yet flippant disregard for military procedures and protocol. That was all secondhand and hearsay though. For better, or just as likely for worse, Sasha would now have a firsthand account of working with Intelligence.
"Yeah, that's me: the mission," Connor confessed with a nonchalant shrug. "I figured the least I could do is get you out of that godawful promotion ceremony. All that time and breath wasted shaking hands, having your back patted, being told how 'proud' you're making Macbeth: it just gets old, doesn't it?"
"I'd rather do something productive," the husky agreed simply, then added quietly with a brief forlorn look, "or something I like."
"Yeah, me too, but what about the right thing?" the avian spy inquired, subtly shifting his tone and demeanor as he asked, "how do you feel about doing that?"
The question gave Sasha a moment of pause, particularly in how it was asked, and also how it slipped into conversation so seamlessly. She suddenly suspected the avian spy was trying to get a read on her, judge her, test her in carefully concealed ways. It felt like she was being watched, categorized, placed in a neat little box...
"I'm happy to do my part for Macbeth, and for the Coalition of Venom," the young officer recited, almost mechanical in her delivery.
"And it's my greatest desire that what Venom and Macbeth want, and the right thing, always remain the same," Connor replied in a flowing, almost singsong tone. "But let's put patriotic loyalty aside for a moment: are you willing to do what's right, even if it totally sucks, even if it makes unpleasant enemies, even if you think you're not able to handle it?"
Beneath her careful mask of stoic soldiery, Sasha gritted her teeth, and held back her outrage. What kind of sideways, manipulative, inquisitorial line of questioning was this? This was starting to feel less like a silly prank, and more like a thinly-veiled draconian test of loyalty–
"I'm sorry," Connor uttered suddenly, but softly. "I didn't mean to throw you for such a loop."
The older raptor avian had softened in his tone and demeanor. In some sense, he looked somewhat frightened and horrified. Then another curious thought occurred to Sasha: that Connor –the expert spy– could read past her mask, could accurately perceive the anger and frustration she kept hidden practically on instinct. Furthermore, Connor appeared to react to her frustrations, aware that his actions aggravated her. On appearance at least, he seemed genuine in his remorse.
The answer was obvious, as it always was.
Sasha took a quick breath to resettle herself, and declared with utter certainty, "yes."
"Huh?" the avian spy replied, cocking his head to one side.
It seemed it was Connor's turn to be thrown for a loop, since he stayed in that unstable position long enough for Sasha to get a few more words in.
"I'll always choose what's right," the young officer said with natural strength, "and I'll do whatever is necessary to achieve it."
The older raptor avian nodded, and presented a delighted smile as he said, "I'm gonna hold you to that, you know."
\
The Best Bad Ideas
/
Enigma,
Announcement over ship's Public Address system.
This is your Operational Commander speaking, Connor Griffon.
As I'm sure you're now aware, things have taken a turn for the worse, and for the bizarre. Control of ship systems were seized by a slave-drive virus, and I in particular was targeted for assassination by a sophisticated time-released poison, but both situations have been somewhat addressed for the time being–
The speaker coughs uncontrollably.
In these current untenable circumstances, our original mission cannot continue. Our mission was no failure though; far from it. As it happens, our mission was a setup from the very start: Venom's leadership has betrayed us, left us for dead, and now actively targets us as their enemies.
As to why, I'm sorry to say the best I have is mere theories, but theories based on my observations and experiences, many of which I share with all of you.
Our past, our ideology, and our methods from Lylat Central Intelligence have always been at odds with the Venom project to some extent, but our eccentricities were tolerated so long as we could play a part in Andross's vision for Lylat. However, we see a significantly different vision for Lylat, one that Andross no longer sees fit to indulge. Having chosen brazen warfare instead of subtler, gentler means –and in the belief that the Enigma and her crew are now a threat as opposed to an asset– Andross has seen fit to eliminate us as a variable in his carefully computed equations. In his calculated efficiency, Andross used our supposed 'mission' to simultaneously target other enemies, purge us from Venom's intelligence and military hierarchy, and prop up our broken corpses as martyrs for propaganda–
The speaker coughs uncontrollably.
It's an effective strategy, I'll grant him that much, but Andross didn't count on one critical thing: us, with our resourcefulness, our ingenuity, and our relentless resolve to do what must be done. We've all survived brutal betrayal in the past, and we'll survive again the same way we've done before: by any means necessary. At this moment, having been brought to their hidden subterranean safe-house here on Titania, we are in the company of the very fugitives Andross had us target and hunt down for our 'mission'. They now have the means necessary.
With the assistance of these same individuals and the resources at their disposal, control of the ship has been regained, and my poison has been treated. We are in their debt, and we'll need their assistance again in the coming moments to escape Venom's incoming ire–
The speaker coughs uncontrollably.
Unfortunately, due to my rapid deterioration of health from the poison, I have to step down as your Operational Commander. In my place, I'm appointing someone I've worked with in the past, who I trust implicitly with my life, and it's with this same conviction that I entrust your lives to this individual too.
My only regret is that I didn't see the situation sooner, that your path to safety has to be by such dire means because of my failures. Through it all, I am immeasurably proud of everyone's exemplary performance in the face of such trying circumstances, I couldn't have asked for a finer crew to serve with. In closing, I ask you to bear no malice toward anyone who walks these decks, be they crew or passengers or unexpected comrades; you'll all need one another going forward–
The speaker coughs uncontrollably.
I have... one last order for you all... plain and simple: Survive.
You'll hear from your new Operational Commander soon.
\
/
Enigma:
Interior Corridors.
Sasha knew it for certain that, in his announcement just then, Connor had lied through his crooked beak. He lied to his crew, spun some story about Venom betraying them, but why?...
Sasha Zura, Arimoto Karasu, and Alastar Korvyn all proceeded down the Enigma's central corridor at a brisk pace toward the mess hall at the far end, where several of the ship's officers and crew –along with Kell and his troops if he followed through– had gathered before the announcement.
The husky officer sported the standard working uniform of the Enigma that Maya procured minutes beforehand, but with the addition of the partial set of basic armor she'd worn earlier as well. It gave Sasha the appearance that she truly belonged on the ship, but the additional armor over her chest helped remind of her usual rough-and-tumble front-line style of command. She moved through the ship carrying an air of weary toughness: a hefty weight to her step that included the weight of responsibility, but also the strength and determination to bear that weight.
Alastar had taken the time to don his entire set of fighting gear; full body armor, g-diffuser and thruster rig, energy shield generator and phantom module, along with a tidy selection of small arms that included his trusty sword; mostly the same getup he originally arrived on Titania with. Something odd Sasha noticed about the scruffy schnauzer at the moment –or perhaps not-so-odd given the circumstances– was an energized bounce to his step as he moved. Whether it was sheer nervous energy, anticipation adrenaline, his g-diffuser kicking in, or him actually looking forward to the certain chaos ahead, Alastar seemed oddly excited about the turn of events, almost to the point of giddiness. Though it unnerved Sasha a bit to see the scruffy merc like this, it was also a small comfort that someone she could trust seemed prepared.
Karasu for his part had a frazzled, haggard, bitter appearance after his weighty private discussion with Connor. He avoided eye-contact with Sasha during the walk, and barely said more than a few basic words of direction. Yet in spite of his ruffled outward appearance, he carried himself with a grim calmness, marching steadily forward along a well-trod path.
"This is all a really bad idea," the dark then raven said bluntly as the trio moved ahead.
"I don't disagree," Sasha Zura said with a nod.
"It's the best bad idea we got though, isn't it?" Alastar quipped with a shrug.
In response to this, Zura and Karasu just exchanged awkward sidelong glances, and kept going.
Connor lied to the crew, bald-faced and plainly for those who knew better. Thinking about it a bit, Sasha supposed it was a sign of respect in some twisted way; a vote of confidence cast in fraud. Though distasteful for those who preferred blunt honesty, it could make sense that a spy, one who's stock and trade was deception and subtle influence, would fabricate a public lie to benefit her tense situation, to set her up for success as someone ready for this command. Nevertheless, she did not feel ready, not in the slightest.
Sasha hadn't met any of the Enigma's crew or officers for very long, was a spec-ops infantry commander by trade and training, and wasn't familiar with spacefaring vessels beyond basic knowledge and their support capabilities for military operations. Though the husky theoretically understood Connor's reasons for choosing her, and in some capacity she was grateful to have the chance to take matters into her own hands, she couldn't fault Karasu for his entirely justified skepticism.
The weary raven stopped just outside the mess hall's entrance, and turned to face Sasha, looking her dead in thethey eye. The young husky officer was familiar with this expression and the underlying sentiment usually attached, but it was her first time being on the receiving end of it. Arimoto Karasu looked frustrated, bitter, angry, but also resigned, having respect for the chain of command in spite of vehement disagreement.
"Can you keep the others in-check?" Karasu asked gruffly. "Can you do the job Connor wants you to do?"
For her part, Sasha did her best to maintain an outward expression of calm and confidence as expected of an officer, but she was certain Karasu saw right through her thin disguise. The way the older raven looked at her with those tired, worried, but still piercing eyes, and spoke with a thin veneer of formality over his own doubts told the husky what she suspected. Connor's decision to put her in command wouldn't be a popular one with the Enigma's officers and crew, and she couldn't blame him.
"I was given a command and a simple mission, but not much else," Sasha stated, stifling the waver in her words with her practiced 'command' voice. "I'm well aware that we'll need far more than just that for us to escape and survive, and I hope I can count on your help in that regard where it's needed."
The dark avian sighed with a nod as he replied, "spoken like a fresh-but-not-incompetent CO."
"Thanks," Sasha replied in an uncertain tone.
"Don't thank me, not for this," he said, shaking his head.
Then Karasu held out his hand, and presented a set of shoulder marks and collar pins for Sasha. The decorations were similar to the raven's own, but with the extra stripe that indicated rank superiority. In addition, the shoulder marks and pins featured a prominent stylized eye emblem, which denoted the Enigma's Operational Commander position, and reminded Sasha of the uniquely clandestine orientation of the vessel itself.
With Karasu's help, Sasha fastened the decorations to her black-and-gray uniform. Despite only weighing a few grams, the pins and shoulder marks felt far heavier than even the armor strapped over the uniform.
"I'll talk with the other officers and department heads separately," the raven said as he secured the last collar pin in place, "let them know what's up and where we stand, try to blunt the bad news to them."
Sasha nodded and responded, "in the meantime, I need to have some choice words with General Silver and the other 'unexpected guests'."
"Say what you gotta say, do what you gotta do," Karasu said in a resigned tone. "I'll keep the ship going so long as you keep them out of my way, out of the crew's way."
Without any further fanfare, Arimoto Karasu stepped ahead into the Enigma's mess hall. Even in the brief moment the door opened and closed, Sasha saw a glimpse of the crowd waiting for her on the other side, and heard some of their anxious murmurs spill through to her ears.
"He's a bit grim, isn't he?" Alastar chimed as he stepped in front of Sasha, and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.
"Alastar," the husky officer said quietly with eyes downcast, and idly fiddled with the eye emblem collar pin as she went on, "I'm not sure I can go in there."
Gently, the scruffy canid reached out and held Sasha's fidgeting hand, and implored her, "hey, look at me."
When she did, she saw Alastar's frankly goofy-looking face, bright-eyed and excited, like an overgrown pup.
"You're gonna do fantastic," he assured with unwavering certainty.
"You're just saying that," Sasha dismissed as she looked away. Alastar was just being nice, like he always was with her.
"I am, yeah," he agreed with a casual shrug before adding, "but I'm also right, you know."
"No, I don't believe you," the husky retorted, almost accusingly. "You know the kind of disgusting mess I've been saddled with! How can you possibly be so chipper about the whole thing?"
"Well," Alastar mused, stroking the long scraggly hairs at the end of his muzzle, "you know how bloody angry you get when you've been screwed over, like you were so many times with Rick, and with me also?"
"Yeah, so what?" Sasha answered with a telling scowl etched in her features.
"Do that," the scruffy canid said, and gestured toward Sasha with an open hand and a shrug, "kinda like that, actually."
"I'm... not sure I follow," the husky responded, confused by the merc's bizarre suggestion.
Allowing anger to guide command went against everything Sasha was ever taught about leadership. At best, anger might be used to motivate another, the way a parent scolds a child for poor behavior. She was supposed to be an example for others to look up to, an inspiration for those under her command to aspire to. Frankly though, it was also a position she couldn't possibly occupy for the crew of the Enigma, not on such short notice, not without knowing them better. Connor had chosen the wrong person for this command. She wasn't going to get them out of here, and she was going to lead everyone to their deaths...
"You heard what Connor said over the horn," Alastar said as he gestured widely around them. "If the crew has any respect for him, they're all just as pissed-off about the situation as you are now, and for pretty much the same reasons you are. They –we, if I'm being honest– are bloody done with being screwed around and pissed on by those above makin' arse-faced decisions that bugger it all for the rest of us!"
Alastar's words ended in nearly a shout, pushing his normally subtle accent further in the process. His jovial attitude from before was gone, revealing a frustration and rage that he'd referred to before, but was on full display for Sasha at the moment. As far as she could tell, Alastar Korvyn wanted more than anything to act on his frustrations, to accomplish something –anything– that could start to make right everything he saw wrong. In his view, Sasha being in command of the Enigma, sharing his frustrations, was a step in that direction for him.
That's why he was excited...
The scruffy merc took a moment to catch his breath, reeling in his burst of rage, before continuing in a subdued but no less impassioned tone.
"The reasons for your anger damn-well matches up with theirs. The crew can relate to that; they can get behind that." then Alastar held a hand up to his armored chest for extra emphasis, "I got behind that, and I'm with you all the way to the end."
"I... I haven't thought of it that way..." Sasha said, with ideas lighting up and gears working in her head. "I suppose, without the time to know the crew better, I could at least make do with a strong first impression, and connect with them through our shared experience: our shared outrage, shared spite, and a shared sense of defiance!"
"Alright, yeah! Keep that in your head while you're in command for now!" Alastar cheered, giving Sasha a double thumbs-up and a silly grin. "You'll make the right choices, and the crew's gonna follow you gladly, not because you say so, but because they believe you so–"
In a surge of elated adrenaline, Sasha sprung herself upon Alastar, wrapping him in a sudden tight hug. With her arms slung over his broad, armored shoulders, she felt the anxieties that had gnawed at her wits go quiet.
She hadn't realized until now just how much she needed to hear what he said; to be reminded that her frustrations and outrage were not unique to herself, that it was a sentiment shared by the entire crew of the Enigma. Not only could she connect with the crew this way, but her command would serve as a productive outlet for all their fury that would see them out of this mess alive. All going well, they might even save countless more lives from whatever ambush Andross's 'Contingency Five' entailed. It all seemed so obvious now.
"Thanks for that, seriously," the husky said quietly into Alastar's ear. Then without the slightest warning, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
Just as suddenly, Sasha released the stunned canid merc and went straight for the mess hall. She heard no response from Alastar, and didn't even glance back to see how he looked. He could've been shocked into silence, utterly baffled, maybe weirdly happy; it didn't matter. With a slight swagger in her step, the husky officer left him stuck there to figure out for himself what just happened. It wasn't her concern, not right now...
Sasha Zura entered the Enigma's mess hall hearing a din of quiet chatter, and seeing dozens of people of varying species spread throughout the area. Many were at chairs and tables, some stood off to the side, a few others poured themselves something to drink or picked up a snack from the mess hall's food station. Regardless, all of them stopped when Sasha entered the space, and turned to see who this sudden newcomer was.
The husky officer strode through the wide room with utter confidence, scanning the room for a specific group of people. Every now and then, a few hushed exclamations rose out of the entranced silence as she moved among the gathered audience. Maybe they realized who she was, having seen the shoulder marks and eye emblem that adorned her uniform.
It didn't take long for Sasha to find who she was looking for, since they were the only ones not looking right at her while she closed in on them. Richard and Rachelle Cooney, Gillian Morrow, and General Silver were all sharing a table, exchanging heated whispers. Rick was muttering about something when Rachelle finally noticed the husky's approach, and elbowed her rambling brother in the chest.
With a startled grunt, the old raccoon looked up, and the others' eyes followed suit with him.
Standing over their table, hands planted firmly on her hips and a stern scowl on her face, was the Enigma's Operational Commander: Sasha Zura.
"You four: with me, now," she commanded, beckoning the group to follow.
Without even a peep of protest nor the slightest hesitation, they all complied.
\
/
Comments,
"Anonymous" Richard Cooney, former member of Lylat Central Intelligence.
For Connor to put Sasha Zura in command like that was a reckless, desperate ploy in desperate circumstances, but I have to confess, it was also brilliant in its own reckless, desperate way. He knew our own plans and schemes had been completely uprooted and turned on our heads, that I and the rest of us there would be scrambling aimlessly, having utterly failed in all our separate, selfish missions. With nothing else to lose for himself, and in the shadow of the inevitable war, Connor Griffon put it all on the line in one last act of defiance and spite against Andross, and against me and my colleagues in a way.
In that terrible moment, Connor put our lives and fates in the hands of the one person we'd all been kicking and yanking around all over the place. Between my social engineering, Morrow's arrogance and overconfidence in herself, the Venomian military's gaslighting propaganda, and Griffon's brazen hostage ploy on the final mission, Sasha Zura had the most reason to disdain us for all we put her through. Incidentally, when these same circumstances were reversed, she also had the most reason to succeed with those she loved aboard, and the chance to take charge of the situation to see it through. To the best of my knowledge, once she'd received her command, no others aboard the Enigma were as single-mindedly driven to succeed as Sasha Zura was, and that determination proved to be uniquely infectious.
It was at that moment that I knew Connor chose the right person to get us out.
\
/
Enigma:
Mess Hall.
Alastar Korvin stepped through the sliding doors into the space in a bit of a daze. Part of it might've been the meds Rachelle put him on in sick bay, part of it was the rush of getting ready for something really dangerous, but he suspected the biggest part was Sasha and whatever that was that she did back there. Though he simply told her the truth as he knew it, it seemed to be a truth she needed to hear, a truth she needed to be reminded was still in-fact true... at least he hoped it was true. It'd be damned awkward if even after that little pep-talk, it all still fell flat. If it did happen, at least he and everyone else aboard wouldn't live long enough to regret it, so no point in second-guessing, right?
Right?
People were starting to stare now.
The scruffy schnauzer merc had been standing in front of the doorway a few seconds, or maybe more, holding his helmet under one arm and generally being awkward and conspicuous. Though his entrance had drawn the curious gaze of some, most others' attention went to another development in the mess hall. Several of the Enigma's crew, and others that were probably Kell Zura's bunch, were tracking the movement of a small but purpose-bound group approaching from the far side of the mess hall. It was Sasha, with the others in tow: the Cooneys, General Silver, and that Morrow bitch too.
At least step one wasn't a complete disaster, good to know.
As Sasha and her cadre made their way across toward the exit where Alastar was, he noticed another group who's gazes followed Sasha and her party: her old squad. Fletcher, Xavier, Vance, and a small brown rodent he didn't recognize sat around one of the many tables here in the Enigma's mess, all looking distraught and confused in their own way. The four of them watched as Sasha and the others passed right by their table, without giving them so much as a second glance, and the squad looked all the more dejected for it...
Alastar had fought beside Theta Four several times on Zoness, each of them great soldiers from what he'd seen; all dedicated, relentless, utterly undaunted by adversity. Yet here they were, brought to a pitiful low by a betrayal that was far out of their hands, and the leader they trusted had all but ignored them. The scruffy merc had been there before, felt that horrific pain of abandonment, and now felt it all again as he witnessed this moment.
In this morbid moment of empathy, Alastar Korvyn came to realize this pain was likely felt across every single person aboard: himself, Sasha, Theta Four, Kell Zura's soldiers, and the entire crew of the Enigma herself...
Screw it.
Alastar let out a grunting sigh as he stepped forward into Sasha's path, facing her head on.
"Sasha, a word," he said.
"Later," she replied, staring down the armored merc. "Right now, Alastar, I need you out of the way."
"And I'll get out of the way after a word," Alastar insisted, standing his ground.
Sasha grimaced, frustrated by the delay, but must've thought better of it as she asked, "what is it?"
"Your guys over there are having a real rough time of it all," Alastar said as he looked toward Theta For and gave a small nod. "I can talk to them."
The husky commander looked over to the four soldiers, following Alastar's gaze. Everything about Sasha softened a bit in a moment of realization; her demeanor, her expressions, and her voice too.
"They're my troops, Alastar," she stated, still looking to them. "I should be the one to talk to them."
"I'm sure you can, and you should, and you will. Right now though you've got way higher steaks on your plate to carve," Alastar quipped, jerking a thumb toward the others in tow. "Besides, I know a thing or two about being screwed over, and about moving on from it, and your guys know me."
The troops of Theta Four had all turned toward the conversation, looking, waiting, expecting. In turn, Sasha gave them a slow nod from afar, bringing her hand up in a subtle salute. Though the act was small, the message got to the four troops, who all returned the husky's salute.
"If you believe you can help them," Sasha said as she returned her stern attention to Alastar, "then help."
"Aye," Alastar responded while he stepped aside, "that I can do."
Sasha left for the mess hall's exit while others followed. As the other hangers-on passed him though, Rachelle Cooney briefly looked back to Alastar with a weird scrutinizing squint, as if wondering what he was up to. If the scruffy merc was honest with himself, he was wondering what he was doing too. He felt the gazes of many eyes watching from throughout the mess hall now, having just caused a minor scene. Alastar took a deep breath, and did his best to shake himself of his anxieties as he approached the four sullen soldiers of Theta Four at their table.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, then sat down regardless, the eyes of the squad watching his every move.
The unfamiliar rodent –the oldest and most mature of them if Alastar had to guess– simply watched him with a steady, silent, unsettling stare. The slim primate Silas Vance fidgeted at the merc's presence, glancing between the scruffy canid and his squadmates, looking for guidance perhaps. The bulky reptilian form of Anton Xavier sat back in his seat with his hefty arms folded over his broad barrel-chest, looking down on the newcomer in brooding judgment. With one elbow planted on the table between them, the avian Gavin Fletcher was hunched forward, holding up his heavy head. He gave Alastar a lengthy sidelong glance before he finally spoke up.
"How did you do it?" Fletcher asked in a solemn, tired voice, making tentative eye-contact with the scruffy merc.
"Do what now?" Alastar asked as looked around the table, seeing all eyes of the squad turn squarely on him.
Fletcher sat up straighter, and clarified his remark as he said, "you were a loyal, elite soldier for Corneria, part of a family of warriors devoted to the defense of their home, much like we are for Macbeth."
"We each dedicated ourselves to Macbeth," Vance added, motioning toward his comrades seated around the table. "We learned our skills, mastered our techniques, sacrificed comfort and normalcy, and put our very lives in harm's way so that others may have theirs."
"We believe in the Venom project, it's vision, it's ambition:" Xavier declared firmly, "a prosperous, forward-thinking Lylat for the benefit of all."
"How did you do it?" Fletcher asked again in a wavering voice, holding back a torrent of emotions from what Alastar could guess. "How did you turn your back and abandon that which you've devoted your whole life to? How?!"
On experiencing this, Alastar slouched low in the chair and stared at his knees. He didn't exactly know how to answer the soldiers, how to put to words what he was going through. The sheer gravity of what he agreed to do for Sasha started to weigh on him, and he started to have second thoughts about stepping into this quagmire. Still, agreed to it he did, so however clumsy the effort, he had to try.
"I uh... never actually turned my back on Corneria herself," Alaster muttered.
"A double-agent for Corneria all-along, I should've known," Xavier snorted, rolling his eyes, "just like our original mission briefing said."
"It's a bit more than that! I did turn away from Corneria!" the canid merc insisted as he sat bolt upright, squaring his armored shoulders with gritted teeth. "What I mean is... I turned away those who poisoned Corneria: the leaders who stoked her peoples' fears and worries, and twisted it into hate. I turned away from a festering, putrid system that took the piss out on my fellows, while those we trusted with our well-being and safety benefited from the exact, bloody, opposite!"
It all went suddenly quiet around Alastar. The squad around the table waited, and watched the scruffy canid's outburst with a skeptical curiosity. It wasn't just the squad now, but several others in the mess hall had their attention drawn to the scene, quieting other conversations.
"What I do now: I want to believe it is right for Corneria, for the people who live there, for my family, my friends, and even for the shite bastards I hate back there too. When I say, 'I haven't turned my back on Corneria,' that's what I mean."
"Thank you, Alastar Korvyn." the older, unfamiliar rodent said with a quiet nod. "I believe I understand."
"Hold on, what's that supposed to mean?" Fletcher asked, looking between Alastar and the rodent. "What's the right thing for Macbeth, for Venom, for us? Where exactly do we fit into all this?!"
"Well hot damn!" Kellam Zura's gruff, bold voice declared in a cackling laugh. "If this just ain't the most sordid, sorry state of soldiery I have ever seen!"
Next to the table where Alastar and the squad sat was Kell Zura, standing at the head of a small contingent of his own troops. Having caught the table's attention, the older husky started walking a small circle with arms outstretched as he continued.
"Take a second and look around you, kid: your sad story ain't a special one, or a new one. You're aboard a ship full of Cornerian defectors who, like this Korvyn clown–" he grunted as he gave Alastar a rough slap across the shoulder, "got fed-up with the rotten core of Corneria's leadership, and wanted another option. My troops' only difference from Korvyn is that they sought the optimism of Venom: the very promise of a better Lylat you've defended with pride. We're all neck-deep in the stink of it, just like you..."
"That's a lot of passionate bluster and outrage, but it doesn't give us an answer," Fletcher retorted. "What's our purpose? What's our cause? What's our mission?"
"Connor spelled it out clear enough:" Alastar answered, "we all pull together, and we all survive."
"What about after we survive?" Xavier asked in an annoyed huff, "What's to be our mission then, if we even get there?"
"That's not something I can answer," the scruffy armored merc confessed, shaking his head, "but the way I see it, anyone who really believes in the best for Venom and the coalition worlds wouldn't be so quick to discard such good, loyal soldiers as yourselves, or try to kill Connor Griffon while on mission, or jeopardize the Enigma and her crew. If this is how Andross treats those loyal to his cause, then he's not a worthy champion for what Venom stands for, not anymore at least..."
Alastar stood up from the table and collected his helmet, oddly tired and weary now from the whole ordeal. He'd stepped into this just wanting to help, to ease the pain of those he saw hurting, and ended up just making an ugly scene instead. The merc turned to leave, to make an exit from this uncomfortable place, only for a firm hand to grasp him by the shoulder and stop him in his tracks. Alastar looked up in reaction, and saw the stony face of Kell Zura looking him straight in the eye.
"Well said, Korvyn," the older husky said with a nod, quickly followed by murmurs of agreement from the troops behind him.
The scruffy armored mercenary stopped for a moment, and took a hard look around at the situation. Only now, after having it nearly pointed out for him, did Alastar see he had the complete undivided attention of Zura's troops, of several ship's crew too, and they all were in agreement with him. When he'd said those encouraging words to Sasha earlier, about the crew sharing her frustrations, it was mostly just a guess, the right thing to say to help Sasha not run circles around herself. He'd hoped it was true, obviously, but was a little taken aback and humbled to be faced with the reality of it here.
"Hey, I got a question for you, Alastar," Silas Vance piped up, then added, "it's an easier one, I think"
"That so?" the scruffy canid prompted, now with a more energized bounce to his words.
"I saw the rank insignia on Sasha's outfit when she led the others out of here," the slim primate began, and pointed out his own shoulder marks. "Is she the new ship's Operational Commander?"
The question prompted a series of interested whispers from the onlookers, just as eager for the answer.
"Aye, that she is," Alastar confirmed with a firm nod.
"Well I'll be damned!" Kell Zura whooped proudly. "She's an excellent choice for command, of course, but how'd she manage to swing that assignment? She doesn't do space-navy work or the like."
For a moment, Alastar was caught off-guard by the question. The full situation of it was complex and nuanced, too much to explain briefly here. For the time being, the scruffy merc settled for telling a condensed truth.
"From what I know, and the ship's crew can confirm it, 'Operational Commander' is more like a manager type position, less involved in ship's functioning." Aalstar explained. "Sasha has a rapport with those who can help us out, the motivation needed to get everyone here out alive, and the grit not to give up under any circumstances. She'll do right by you, all of you."
"That's good enough for me, and that's that!" the older husky declared quickly, directing the words to his troops and the onlooking throng. He seemed to understand there was more to it than Alastar said, but too much to get deep into now. He turned to address his own troops, saying, "anyone under my command wants to cry me a river about the situation: do it later. Until such time as we're no longer in immediate deadly peril, getting to safety is our top priority. Anything else comes second."
"That's a fair position, Commander Zura," the unfamiliar older rodent agreed as he stood up beside the others, then addressed the soldiers of Theta Four, "the same goes for each of you."
"Glad to see we're all on the same page," Kell Zura said, then roughly clapped both Alastar and the rodent on their shoulders. "As long as we're all here, what's our tactical situation like? Korvyn, you know the local assets: go."
Caught a bit by surprise, Alastar fumbled a few moments before starting, "the caravaners here are prepped for a fighting evacuation, as that was their plan from the very start. They'll draw fire as they scatter, occupy the incoming force a bit to cover our escape, but not for long. They'll disappear quickly into the desert toward other hideouts."
"Hunt, you were on the ground at Aster's camp," Kell said, addressing the unfamiliar rodent in command of Theta Four, "what details do you have about that?"
The rodent Hunt replied quickly in a cold military monotone, "Aster's forces were weakened during the engagement against the Goras, but they're still formidable. It's likely that reinforcements will be sent now that we're targeted. There's no way to know exactly what might come, but the longer we wait, the more firepower could be brought to bear against us."
"Which gives us all the more reason to move out fast, and we'll need every edge we can get," the older husky grumbled with furrowed brow. A moment later he turned to the whole crowd of onlooking crew, hollering out, "hey, crew-people! What's our shipboard armament like?!"
The crowd murmured and whispered among themselves for a few seconds, until one of the crew stepped up and answered back, "The Enigma itself is lightly armed, mainly with point-defense cannons. The ship's greatest asset, tactically anyway, is her cloaking field and jamming array."
"She can hide and sneak, but a front-line fight is the last thing we want!" another crewman shouted back, followed by a cascade of agreement to back it up from the rest.
"Good to know!" Kell Zura bellowed with a quick thumbs-up before returning to Hunt and Korvyn, "my own troops brought mostly small-arms, with few specialized heavy weapons. What have you got?"
"We brought some heavy arms aboard as well, but nothing that isn't man-portable," the rodent, Hunt, answered. "Xavier has an ample supply of explosive charges of course, but their use in a firefight is limited."
"My gear is pretty damn good, the Cooney's really pulled out the stops to get me the good stuff," Alastar said as he adjusted the fit of his kit, "but I'm still just one guy."
"Looks like we got our work cut out for us..." the older husky said with a grumbling sigh, then turned again to the entire gathered crowd of his troops and ship's crew, "so then, any bonkers-ass bad ideas we can come up with to get out alive, now's the goddamn time! Go nuts!"
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/
Enigma:
Bridge Conference Room.
Sasha Zura, Halfdan Silver, Gillian Morrow and the Cooneys filed into the plain, stuffy room. Each of them took a seat around the narrow table in tense silence, with all eyes on Sasha herself, who sat last at the head of the table. Just as the husky officer was settling in, the silence broke.
"So Connor put you in command, huh? That's an odd play," Rachelle stated in a dry but prodding tone. "Is it some sort of spiteful 'screw you' kind of move move? No offense to you, of course, but I get it–"
"Kill your slave-drive and neural relay rig, Cooney," Sasha commanded calmly but coolly, not even giving the older raccoon woman eye contact.
She kept her gaze steady, not looking at anything in particular nor letting her eyes wander about the room. the stares of all the others locked onto the young husky, watching, waiting, anticipating, judging...
After dragging out moment out a bit, the Rachelle coyly asked, "kill the slave-drive, or what?"
Her dry tone didn't change in the slightest in the asking, but her posture leaned in closer, and there was a slight curious spark in her eye as she awaited Sasha's answer.
"Kill your gear, or I'll have you escorted off this ship by Alastar Korvyn," the husky locked her eyes with Rachelle with a firm intensity. She said nothing else, but waited, and allowed the older woman to connect the unsaid dots for herself.
For her part, Rachelle responded to the ultimatum with raised eyebrows and a slow nod, like she was critiquing a meal in a cooking competition.
"Fair play, point taken," the raccoon conceded. Then she leaned back in her, and pulled up a set of what looked like technical diagrams on her wrist-computer.
"I'm gonna make something absolutely clear," Sasha announced to all those at the table, "as of this moment, the Enigma flies exclusively under the instruction and control of her own crew. No more of this puppet-on-strings bullshit."
"Here here," General Silver agreed heartily, with an ever so slightly smug smile.
"Our goal is clear and simple," the husky officer continued, "we get the Enigma and all aboard to safety–"
"No," Gillian Morrow interrupted, now oddly grim and quietly desperate. "We need to contact Corneria, as soon as possible, confirm if an attack is imminent, and coordinate a response if need-be. There's far more at stake now, something far greater than just ourselves."
"Yeah, well, even if we relay a message through Corneria's hidden listening posts, the transmission will give our position away," Rachelle chimed in, briefly looking up from technical specs. "The cloak will be compromised, and we'll be exposed."
"Indeed. Contact should only be attempted once we've arrived at a safe point of transmission," General Silver concurred, looking across the table to the pale wolf with quiet triumph. "If it comes to it, Corneria will simply have to endure the fate she brought upon herself: the fate she deserves, quite frankly."
"And what would that accomplish, exactly?" Sasha questioned.
"We'd escape safely, with far less risk to the ship and those aboard," General Silver answered in a knowing, matter-of-fact tone. "Unless I'm gravely mistaken, those are the immediate mission parameters, correct?"
"It's not just immediate safety we need to be concerned with now. We need to consider the bigger picture," Sasha corrected. Then she started a longer explanation with, "say we do just as you suggest: we slip away, and Corneria is caught completely off-guard by an unexpected alpha-strike. If Venom wins, Venom still hunts us down. If instead Corneria survives the attack and eventually wins against Venom, then we're still out of luck. If we then seek out Cornerian support again, we will be spurned and left to the tender mercies of our hunters, or a far steeper price will be demanded of us. If we turn our back on Corneria now, when we're at a place to assist in such a profound way, they'll remember, and they won't be happy."
The young husky paused with a look to Gillian Morrow. The older wolf lady for her part looked back with intrigue, and more than a little surprise, despite her efforts to keep her expression neutral.
"Could we wander space as aimless exiles? How long do you think we could hide? How long until we need to resupply?" Sasha asked in quick succession. "How long could we evade conflict in a war-ravaged Lylat before someone with a grudge recognizes us?"
"It's hard enough for just a few in exile," Rick Cooney uttered, weary with firsthand experience at the very though. "A whole ship? The crew would tear each other apart."
"Venom just burned down the bridge with us, for the entire ship and crew," the husky officer reiterated "We need allies now, so we have to extend an olive branch where we can. Corneria is already expecting the Enigma in one way or another, and we have information that'll change the entire course of total war. Corneria is our only shot, but it's a pretty good shot."
"The remnants of LCI have a rough history with Corneria," Rick said with quiet bitterness, shooting an ugly sidelong glance to Agent Morrow. "They've seized facilities and equipment, ravaged agents and their networks, assassinated assets and contacts. This ship alone likely represents the last vestiges of the Agency as it was, and the crew will resent working for Corneria."
"Circumstances have changed, Richard. Surely you can see that," Morrow replied, and looked around the table. "Assisting Corneria is the only way out, for any of us."
"Be that as it may, the Enigma is not and never was duty-bound to serve Corneria like a vessel of the space navy," Sasha declared firmly. "If we're to put the ship and crew into even further danger, we have to know: what benefit would that be to them?"
"You would be treated as heroes, and rightly so," the older wolf answered simply.
"Accolades and a pat on the back won't provide what people need: food on the table, a place to call home, safety, security, all of which will be in suddenly short supply for this crew now that Venom has abandoned them," The husky Commander explained in a firm tone. "So I ask again: what can Corneria give us?"
"Time is so desperately short, and you're negotiating?!" Morrow spat, aghast at the situation.
"Oh yes, we are negotiating," Sasha Zura confirmed. She stood up from the table over all the others as she continued, "what the Enigma has is desperately needed, and would put us in desperate danger to deliver. Our relationship right now is strictly transaction: supply and demand. We are going through hell right now, and you're asking this imperiled crew to go yet further into hell for Corneria's benefit. If we do this, it has to be worth it in the end, and patriotic pride just won't cut it, not here."
"What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?" an indignant Morrow questioned, holding out empty outstretched hands. "Shall I draw up a contract?"
"Might not be a bad idea, actually," Silver huffed, half-joking with a chuckle.
"Here's my proposal then," Sasha announced, cutting into the exchange. "We contact Corneria as soon as possible, as Morrow requests. Once contact is made and information sent, we'll make our escape and go dark. No further transmissions, no unnecessary scans. We'll lay low until we see how the situation unfolds, since the true value of this information will be better known by its impact. Once things settle, we'll negotiate a more detailed arrangement then, assuming we'll still be amiable toward one another."
"The proposal is intriguing, Zura," General Silver said, and slowly stood up from his own chair as he continued his reply, "however, I have one condition for the moment before I agree, and I will not back down from it."
"Name it," Sasha prompted.
"The soldiers under my command: Salazar Hunt and the rest of Theta Four," the gorilla "I won't have these fine troops be treated as hostile spies or terrorists or whatever foul demons that Cornerian propaganda makes us out to be. Corneria must treat them fairly and with dignity."
"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise to them," Sasha assured her former commanding officer. "Morrow, what say you to this?"
The older wolf lady rubbed her forehead, grimacing into the table as she answered, "you've put me in a difficult position–"
"You've put us all in a difficult position, Agent Morrow!" the husky Commander scolded harshly. "Those are the terms. If it's unsatisfactory, we can proceed with General Silver's proposed course of action instead, and leave Corneria to her fate."
"Alright. Very well then," Morrow relented with an exasperated huff. "Let it never be said that I don't have Corneria's best interests at heart. I agree to these terms, and I'll do what's in my power for your troops, for everyone."
"Then it's settled," Sasha declared with finality, and a bit of relief. "We make contact with Corneria as soon as we break the surface and can establish a connection, then we move fast. We'll utilize the cloak as much as we can, but speed is our first concern."
"I'll only need a moment once I've connected to my CSB secure channel," Morrow assured. "That should minimize our compromised time."
General Silver chimed in, offering an idea of his own, "if we're confronted by Venom's forces, I can claim I've taken command of the vessel in accordance with Contingency Five. It likely won't work for long, but it could buy us enough time to get past the danger."
"The local caravaners are already prepped for evacuation under fire," Rick Cooney stated quietly, "They'll draw some heat off us as we escape, distract Aster's crew."
"And you're okay putting them in the line of fire like this?" Sasha asked.
"They know the risks, and always knew it would eventually come to this," the old raccoon said with a small nod. "Frankly, I think they kinda like the idea of slowly burying Venom's forces in their sands."
"Hey, uh," Rachelle piped in, looking up from the work on her wrist-computer. "I don't mean to throw even more last-second weirdness on this whole thing, but I think I might be onto something here, something that could really help out."
"Then by all means, present us with the last-second weirdness," Sasha prompted, and added, "we could use a few more bad ideas."
"Bad idea sounds about right," the older raccoon lady agreed, and used her wrist-computer to project a holographic image of the Enigma, displaying several systems and components. "So I've been looking through the ship's technical specs and capabilities, her cloak and shield in particular, and I think we really got something good here..."
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/
Titanian Desert:
Star Wolf.
The four dagger-shaped Wolfen fighters of Star Wolf cruised across the desert below. The harsh sun dropped lower toward the horizon with every passing minute, and the clear empty sky faded from bright yellow, to orange, to purple, and nearly to blue as the first stars arrived. In the cockpit of one of these fighters, a gruff silver-gray wolf skimmed over a page of information on his craft's console while the autopilot carried him forward.
"This intel Aster gave us is goddamn useless," Wolf O'Donnell growled over the squad's comm, and closed the data. "If this phantom vanishing ship has already gone dark and run off, then we'll never find them, no matter how much technical specs or old survey data we get handed."
"Hey, just relax and chill," Pigma assured, entirely unbothered in his reply. "I know exactly where we gotta go."
"And how would you know that, I wonder?" a slender green reptile questioned.
"I might'a been around here before, working an old job or two," the portly porcine pilot answered without answering, "trust me."
"Leon's got a good point," Wolf grunted back. "I swear Pigma, if you're trying to pull one over on us like you did McCloud–"
"Hey, I ain't ever steered you wrong yet, punk," Pigma chided. Then he added in the tone of speaking to a child, "we take care of this, we score major points with the big guy, and we'll all be sitting pretty. Don't you worry 'bout a thing."
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get those traitors!" a silver-haired monkey cheered on the comm. "For Andross! For Venom!"
"Alright, yeah!" Pigma whooped in support. "That's the spirit Andrew!"
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/
Enigma,
Announcement over ship's Public Address system.
I'm your new Operational Commander, Sasha Zura. I won't take long.
Let's be real for a second: this sucks. Everything about all this that's going on just plain sucks.
This crew went out with a simple, straightforward mission, only to be turned around and stabbed in the back by those we thought had our backs. As if that wasn't bad enough, now there's some strange bitch you don't know deciding what happens next. There's no way to know if she's got your best interest in-mind, so you can't trust her. I get it, I really do. Like all of you, I've recently been lied to, I've been betrayed by those I trusted, taken advantage of in my desperation, shoehorned into a dangerous trap, and left out to die.
I don't know who to trust either, and it sucks.
And you know what I've to say about it? Screw this whole goddamn situation! Screw the meddling morons who thought they could toss us around so easily! Screw the bastards who thought they could take advantage of us just because we're in a tight spot! Screw every single jackass who thinks they've got us all figured out and written us off!
Now I think Connor runs his beak a little too much, but he makes a good point.
Someday we're gonna remember this messed-up day on Titania. We're gonna groan and sigh about how much we hated every goddamn second of it. Most importantly, we're gonna survive to have those moments. To get there, we're all gonna need each and every last one of you here doing what you do best to endure the oncoming suck.
I'm not much for making bold promises, but here's one I'll make just for today. With each-other at our sides, we're gonna laugh and spit in the face of the fate laid out for us by others, and we're gonna ride out this storm with a finger in the air and a curse on our breath!
Time is short. Your department heads and supervisors have all been briefed on the next phase. Let's get it done!
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/
Author Notes:
It hasn't been over a year this time! This is a bit of a dialog and narration heavy chapter, but hopefully not too much.
Major action is coming next chapter, as well as the conclusion soon after. Hopefully sooner this time.
As always, your feedback is most appreciated!
