?
? ? ?
Alastar Korvyn felt weightless, like he was in zero-G...
The ringing in his head faded away to silence, leaving only his own heavy breathing. The blinding white flash in his vision settled into a formless cloudy gray. The scruffy schnauzer blinked a few times, convinced what he saw was a strange visual gray-out situation.
It was not.
All around him was an amorphous, infinite grayness. Any details beyond that were too subtle to consider at the moment. He needed to get his bearings straight, assess his condition, or at least try to...
He mentally prompted the neural interface's HUD to display his vital signs and gear integrity, prioritizing damaged systems. Alarmingly, the display showed him a garbled, glitched-out mess, cluttering his vision with pixelated static. After a few seconds, it resolved into its usual layout, partially, enough to get a readout at least.
[Alert: Oxygen Depletion.]
[Alert: Heart Rate Elevated.]
[Alert: Decompression.]
[Alert: Ionizing Radiation.]
Figures. He didn't need the HUD to tell him about his heart trying to beat out of his chest, and it was definitely getting harder to breathe. Decompression and radiation though–
[Alert: Energy Shield Offline.]
[Alert: Vacuum Seals Breached.]
That wasn't good, nope. He prompted the comm transceiver to open the broadest emergency channel the antenna would allow, hoping at least that piece of gear still functioned.
"Alastar Korvyn to Enigma..." he wheezed out with breathless panting.
There was no response. He looked around, into the gray abyss, trying to see something– anything to try and figure out what was out there. There might've been a shadowy shape, a flickering light, a hint of movement, somewhere out there.
"Alastar Korvyn to anyone listening," he uttered, quieter this time.
Still no reply. He mentally prompted a general scan of his surroundings; chemical composition, electromagnetic readings; the works.
"Is anybody there?" the scruffy canid whispered, nearly to himself.
Moments passed, and the scanners tried their damnedest to make sense of the situation. All that came back was a 'please wait, processing' message. He could hear a quiet, whistling hiss as his air supply escaped through whatever damage there was in his armored suit. He had to breathe a little harder and a little deeper each second to keep going, and his heartbeat kept getting harder and faster...
This could well be the end, damn.
All at once, a crackling, shrill scream screeched through Alastar's helmet, causing him to clutch his head in both hands, grimacing as he gasped, "Agh! Bollocks!"
The crackling scream faded, and an unfamiliar, unremarkable voice spoke through the open comm channel, "you don't belong here..."
"What?" was all Alastar could blurt in response.
"Du hör inte hemma här."
"You don't belong here."
"Ní Bhaineann Tú Anseo."
"You don't belong here."
"Nǐ bù shǔyú zhèlǐ."
"No perteneces aqui."
"You don't belong here."
"Anata wa koko ni zokushite imasen."
"Vam zdesʹ ne mesto."
All he could hear were the countless voices, all speaking in turn and at once, all telling him, 'You don''t belong here' over and over again. All thought was gone, lost in a sudden feverish throbbing in his head. In a final, desperate mental effort, gathering what little focus he still had, Alastar prompted his neural interface to commence emergency shutdown–
[Critical Error: You Do Not Belong Here.]
In an instant, a darkness enveloped his vision, and snuffed out all his remaining awareness.
\
Beyond the Veil
/
Enigma:
Bridge.
Sasha Zura stood up from the command chair in the center of the bridge as the ship arrived in a place of sudden, but welcome stability. They'd escaped Star Wolf's relentless pursuit, only to arrive someplace far stranger, far more unknown.
Outside the main view-port ahead was an odd gray mass, like the Enigma had arrived in a vast cloud-bank. She'd have to figure out any further details later. For now, there were things that needed to be done.
"Status report," the husky officer commanded, still staring into the odd gray void outside.
Her reply came swiftly from the raven Karasu, sitting just ahead at the helm control console, "the ship's a little battered and bruised, but we're holding together. The weird shield modifications are doing their thing, I think."
Sasha reached down and pressed a few buttons on the command chair's armrest console, or tried to. Her fingers fumbled clumsily, and she saw just how much her hand was shaking. Taking a moment, Sasha clenched and unclenched her fist, then opened a channel on ship's intercom to Kell Zura, "Hangar team, is Alastar aboard? Is he alive?"
The gruff, yet winded voice of her father grunted back through the console, "we uh... got him." A flash of dread went through Sasha in that pause, but was cut short when it ended, "he's alive, but he's in rotten shape."
"Get him to the infirmary, now!" the husky officer barked, trying to keep control of her commander's voice.
"He's already on his way," Kell hastily assured.
She closed the channel, and addressed the bridge crew in a quick snappy tone, "I'm going down to Medical. Conney, you're with me! Karasu, you have the con!"
Sasha immediately turned and exited the bridge to the corridor outside, not bothering to give them any further focus or time to respond. Frankly, she needed to get out of there, away from onlookers, especially those under her command. The crew didn't need to see her break down like she was on the verge of doing. She needed a moment to compose herself, to come down off the racing adrenaline high. She also needed to have a very frank conversation, one better done in private...
Richard Cooney followed her into the corridor soon after, walking at a slow, controlled gait. Sasha heard the old raccoon stop a few paces behind her, and he waited, almost like he knew what was coming.
"Rick, I need to know what's out there," Sasha stated sternly, but softly, keeping her back to him for the moment. "For your sake and everyone aboard, I need to know."
In a tired tone, the old raccoon responded, "I'm not sure I can explain..."
A small flame of outrage flared up in Sasha, fueling her as she spun around to face the older spy, glaring at him with fire in her eyes.
"You listen here you shifty old spook," the husky officer growled, "we modified the Enigma's cloak-shield according to your specifications to protect us from... whatever weirdness is out there, which Alastar has just been directly exposed to. We need to know what we're at risk for, and now's the time to lay it all out: spill it."
"You're not gonna like my answer, but I honestly don't know for sure," Rick replied, shaking his head with a shrug.
"Then say what you do know, even if you're not sure," Sasha demanded, her patience wearing thin.
"Fine. here's how it was explained to me, with all my scientific ignorance..."
The old raccoon produced a pen and a small paper notepad with a worn-out leather cover, and began his exasperated explanation, "in normal space, a straight line is the most direct route: point A to point B..."
He drew a straight line on the notepad, and tore the sheet out.
"This classic example is a bit crude and simple, but it's more or less like so:" Rick admitted as he continued, "a regular hyperspace-warp drive will chart a shortcut using dimensions outside the three normal space directions, and jump across."
Continuing the demonstration, he bent the paper roughly in half, bringing the ends of the line he drew together, then punched a hole in the paper with his pen, connecting the two endpoints.
"That's just basic hyperspace warp navigation," Sasha quipped in frustration. "We all learn about this in school."
"That's right," Rick agreed with a quick nod, "but this is where we are now..."
He crumpled the paper into a small wad in his hand. The raccoon's expression and voice became much more stern as he explained.
"Everything around us outside is a jumbled, disorganized mess, where 'up' could actually be 'down' sometimes, and several other directions at once. We could travel in what we assume to be a straight line, only to wind up right back where we started. We could double back and try to retrace our steps, only to end up flung further afield than before. We could try any single thing again and again and again, and the results could be wildly different every single time. There is no consistency in this... knot of twisted dimensions, no reliability of our perceptions, and thus we have no way to reliably navigate. We were supposed to trap our enemies here, Sasha, we were never meant to come here ourselves."
Slowly, Rick reached out, offering the crumpled paper to Sasha.
"We did everything we could," the old spy said, now in a far more somber voice, "far more than I ever thought possible, and I genuinely hope it's enough. For your sake and everyone aboard, we have to believe it's enough, so everyone else can believe it's enough too."
"What's your point, Rick?" Sasha asked as she took the crumpled paper wad from his hand.
"It's easier to face oblivion having made a difference," Rick answered grimly. "Our part in all this is over, Sasha. We need to accept that, and we need to be ready to face the end."
This stopped Sasha for a moment as the gravity of the situation finally started to settle in. Escaping to this place was always a desperate ploy; a last-second spur-of-the-moment bonkers idea that's only worked as well as it had because it was so frought with risk; nobody in their right mind would be crazy enough to try it. Only they did try it, they 'succeeded,' and now the consequences of this ploy have come to cash in. They were trapped here...
Sasha held up the crumpled wad of paper in front of her face, slowly turning it in her hand, absentmindedly examining each fold and crease. After looking at it, she had a snarky little idea. With careful, painstaking effort, the husky commander unwrapped the crumpled wad of paper, returning it to its roughly flat rectangle shape.
"No," she stated firmly, and handed Rick his paper back.
"I made a promise when I was given this command: to get this ship and everyone aboard to safety, and I'm not about to renege on that promise. You might've made your peace with oblivion, old man, but I'm still here, kicking and screaming, and I'm not going down without knocking out a few teeth on the way."
The old forlorn raccoon just stood there with his crinkly paper, utterly bewildered, as Sasha Zura left him behind and walked away.
\
/
Comments,
"Anonymous" Richard Cooney, former member of Lylat Central Intelligence.
It made her an utter pain in the ass sometimes, but I have to admire that relentless, stubborn streak of Zura's. It's gotten us this far, evading Aster's entourage and Star Wolf in the process.
Beyond the veil though, in this foggy unknowable place, was something else entirely. It was something I had frighteningly little experience with, and what little experience I did have was all terrible, and always ended in tragedy.
For as well as she'd done thus far, Sasha Zura was in for a very stark reality check.
\
/
Enigma:
Ship's Medical Center.
Sasha arrived at the medical facility to a frighteningly busy scene. She stopped a moment just inside the threshold, taken aback, taking it in.
Every intensive care bed she could see was occupied by patients in various states of trauma and distress, and still more injured crew stood or sat all around the overcrowded space, while ship's medical staff scurried about administering whatever care could be provided. The whole area clamored with the sounds of patients' cries of pain, and the medical staff rattling off instructions.
Out of this mayhem emerged a shorter badger, the chief medical officer, calling out over the dizzying din as he approached, "Commander Zura!"
The stout badger's white lab coat had been spattered with red specks of blood, and he seemed overall haggard by his chaotic situation. Still, with how quickly he moved and how alert he appeared, he must've still been riding the rush of it.
"I'm here to see Alastar Korvyn," Sasha informed.
"He's right this way, come," the medical officer replied curtly, and led her further inside. "It's a good thing he got here as fast as he did. We'll get him some extra oxygen for his various decompression maladies, and he should make a swift recovery."
Though she was relieved to hear it, there were so many more patients around who were in dire and immediate need. They were all hurt under her command, carrying out her orders, and Sasha couldn't help but feel some guilt over it.
"How is the crew doing?" she asked as they walked, her gaze wandering around the medical center, seeing all the surrounding pain.
"They're doing alright, pretty damn well all things considered, actually," the doctor said with a bit of well-worn pride. "It's mostly bumps and bruises, with only a few very serious injuries."
"That's good to hear," Sasha replied with some relief.
"Credit where credit is due:" the stout badger added, "Olsen's fancy medical nanite kit was a literal lifesaver for some of the more critical patients. He's a good doctor, and a good man. I'm proud to have worked with him."
As she continued to look around the infirmary, Sasha noticed there was one person in particular missing, and she asked, "where's Connor Griffon?"
"I... had to relocate him," the medical officer confessed, his hard-working pride deflating as he spoke. "I had to make room for triage."
"Where to?"
"To the morgue, I'm afraid," the stout badger admitted, his round shoulders slumping even lower. "He succumbed to his injuries shortly after the action started."
"I'm so sorry," Sasha said quietly as her heart sank. She'd hoped to tell Connor that they escaped, that they made a difference, so he could at least die knowing that much.
"Don't be, Commander, please," the medical officer assured as best he could. "His final act was to put you in charge; much to our chagrin at the time, I'll admit; yet you've proved his decision right by getting us this far. Speaking of, what's happened exactly? We did escape, right?"
"Yes, we're out of immediate danger," the husky commander informed, working her voice back into the familiar patter of professionalism, "but there is more going on at the moment too."
"Well, I'm sure I'll hear all about it soon enough," the stout badger replied with a gruff sigh, satisfied for the moment at least. "In the meantime, I've still got patients to tend to, like this brazen oaf of yours who keeps showing up in my infirmary unconscious. I swear, he's really gonna hurt himself if he keeps this up."
As he spoke, the medical officer motioned to another intensive care bed they'd just arrived in front of, upon which lay the motionless from Alastar Korvyn. The scruffy schnauzer was still wearing all his armor, some parts of which were scorched, broken, or otherwise damaged. His helmet was gone though, and an oxygen mask had been secured over his muzzle.
The older raccoon woman Rachelle Cooney was there too, hunched over Alastar with her wrist-computer jacked into the scruffy merc's interface port for his neural implants, working furiously. Though intensely focused on her task, Rachelle's eyes were only half-open, her fur and clothing were mussed up and dirty, and her shoulders drooped low in utter exhaustion.
"Rachelle?" Sasha asked, quietly concerned. "Is there something wrong with his neural interface?"
She blinked, and slowly glanced up from her work on Alastar, rubbing her eyes and forehead before she replied, speaking in semi-slurred ramblings, "I can make a connection and interface with his systems just fine– I was actually half-expecting not to with radiation damage– but... it's all wrong,"
"What did you see?" Sasha asked, worry welling up in her. "What's wrong with Alastar?"
"I don't recognize the programs here– how did it even–" the tired raccoon lady held up her wrist-computer, gesticulating and staring at it with a confused, almost crazed look. "I didn't write this code! I didn't install it either! This is– this shouldn't be possible."
"This has been a day full of impossible things, Ms. Cooney," the badger medical officer stated dryly. "Why should it stop now?"
A sudden short gasp of breath came from the figure on the bed as Alastar woke up. He didn't move much, and just slowly looked between Rachelle, the doctor, and Sasha.
"I don't... I don't belong here," Alastar said weakly, almost mumbling through the oxygen mask.
"It's the medical bay, Alastar," Sasha replied, giving him a little smirk. "If you're hurt, you do belong here–"
"I don't belong... here," the scruffy merc raised a wobbling hand up to his head, rubbing it as he squinted hard.
Something was definitely off.
They husky officer knelt down next to bed, speaking softly close to Alastar's ear, "it's me, Sasha. Can you hear me?"
"I don't belong here!" Alastar shouted through gritted teeth.
He quickly sat up on the bed, leaning forward and clutching his head in both hands.
"Alastar!" Sasha exclaimed, grabbing him by his shoulders as her own words became desperate too. "You're safe here! You're alright!"
"I don't belong here... I don't belong here... I don't belong here..." his voice went to a quiet groan, and he just kept muttering the phrase, over and over again. He seemed so scared, so confused, helpless; so unlike the Alastar that Sasha had known and grown fond of.
"Rachelle, shut down his implants," the husky officer ordered, fighting to keep her steady command voice from breaking down.
The raccoon lady typed in a few commands, then unplugged the cable in Alastar's head as she said, "it's done."
Yet Alastar was still in the same state as before, holding his head in his hands, endlessly repeating the same line like he was moaning in pain, "I don't belong here..."
"I thought you shut down his interface!"
"I did, I did. Alastar's systems are dark," Rachelle insisted. "Whatever has him now, that's in his head, in his living mind."
"Can you tell what's wrong with him?" Sasha desperately asked the medical officer.
"Oxygen deprivation to the brain from vacuum exposure could be a cause," the stout badger mused, scrutinizing his patient's agony, "he's endured a nasty nanite infection too, and if his neural interface has been damaged, that could open a whole other floodgate of yet more issues."
"When he first came aboard," Sasha offered, recalling earlier events that happened to Aslastar: blasted unconscious by a sniper, "he was stunned with a powerful EM shot... "
"Plus," Rachelle Cooney interjected as well, "the data I recovered from his interface shows fairly severe radiation exposure from the outside."
The badger doctor went slack-jawed and wide-eyed as he listened to the two ladies had just told him, "great, so he's damn-near scrambled and cooked his head like an omelet!"
The Doctor rubbed his head in frustration, "I'm going to sedate him and keep him here for observation, at least until I can better diagnose his problems and recommend treatment."
\
/
Enigma:
Mess Hall.
In defiant spite the looming, uncertain unknown, things in the Enigma's mess hall carried on as a normal mess hall should. To the resourceful galley crew's credit, they'd managed to set out a surprising array of snacks and refreshments, even on such short notice after the harrowing action. A fair number of crew and officers milled about the space, many with food and drink of their own. Others could be found talking among their own chosen groups, some likely discussing the current strange situation, probably spreading wild rumors in the process. In some strange ways, it was not unlike a high school cafeteria at lunchtime all over again.
In one of these groups at one of these tables, Sasha Zura sat with the members of Theta Four squad and General Silver. Their semi-circular table was positioned directly below one of the few windows to the outside, showing the swirling misty gray void that hung over them all; a constant reminder of their daunting circumstances.
Silas Vance, their group's silver-haired primate technician, had a plate stacked with food in front of him, which he hungrily dug into while he spoke..
"It's nothing short of ingenious what they've done!" the eager ape rambled between mouthfuls of his food. "Normally, the Enigma's cloak-shield uses dimensional flux to shunt emissions and reflections out of the normal spatial dimensions for stealth and protection. But here, they've modified the cloak-shield to counteract the dimensional flux from the outside. As long as the cloak-shield can be maintained, we can remain in these conditions basically forever."
"And just how long might that be, exactly?" the avian Sergeant Fletcher asked, clasping a cup of coffee in front of him. "How long until the cloak-shield fails from worn-out components, or loss of power? For that matter, how long can we ration food, water, breathable air?"
The hulking reptilian form of Anton Xavier gave a muted chuckling huff, adding, "at this rate, Vance is gonna eat out the ship's entire food supply all by himself!"
"Mrff!" the silver-haired ape exclaimed, quickly swallowing his current bite of food, "hey!"
The small rodent Salazar Hunt spoke calmly, addressing Fletcher's earlier concerns, "these are questions best delegated to the Chief Engineer, and the officer in charge of ship supplies."
Sasha Zura had been quiet for the moment, staring blankly into a steaming cup of tea she'd poured herself earlier. She'd removed the body armor from before, unfastened the top few buttons of her dark uniform shirt, while a few locks of hair had escaped the tight bun she'd tied before.
"I've done that," the husky officer replied wearily, taking a small sip of the tea, "and they're coming up with plans to extend our stores. Still, supplies and good luck aren't infinite; we need to find a way out before our time runs out."
"And say we do get out?" Fletcher questioned, unable to hide his anxieties in his higher-pitched, faster-paced voice. "What happens to us then?"
"Rest assured, Sergeant, arrangements have been made," Geneal Silver said in a practiced confident tone. "Corneria will treat us well, that much I promise."
"It's not like they can do any worse than Venom has," Xavier snarked, and added in a bitter jab, "stabbing us in the back like that."
"I know, I know, it's just..." the nervous avian soldier paused for a moment, and looked down at his knees as he admitted in a soft voice, so unlike him, "I'm... I'm scared."
Sasha slowly looked up, and saw Fletcher was nearly shaking by her side, his feathered hand trembling next to his barely touched cup of coffee. She reached to her side on the table, and gently too hold of the terrified soldier's hand, which then stopped shaking in her grasp.
"And it's alright to be scared, Fletcher. I am too, really," the husky officer confessed with absolute sincerity. "I don't know how we're gonna get out of here, I don't know what's waiting for us even if we do escape, and I don't know if Alastar will recover or not."
"Captain– Commander– um..." Vance sputtered as he tried to get her attention.
"Just 'Sasha' is fine, Silas," she said, slowly shaking her head as she added, "I hardly even know what my rank is supposed to be anymore."
"Well... okay Sasha, um..." Silas said, struggling to get his sentence started. "It'll be real hard to get the ship out on its own power, that's for sure, but we might be able to get a message out way more easily."
This instantly caught the attention of everyone around the table, and they all leaned in with intense interest, silently prompting the silver ape to continue.
"Subspace transmissions operate on similar principles as hyperspace warp travel, using outside-dimensional shortcuts to cut travel time and distance," Silas quickly explained, "So, in theory, it should be easier to use the ship's subspace transmitter to get a signal out for help. Someone on the other side might be able to back-trace our signal, and get us out!"
"An interesting thought, Specialist Vance," Hunt replied, intrigued.
"I'll be sure to pass it along to the right people," Sasha agreed, slurring her words slightly.
The husky officer stood up from the table, nearly stumbling over herself as she was suddenly overcome in light-headed dizziness. It passed quickly, but the evidence was undeniable: she was exhausted far beyond tired.
"Do get some rest as well, Zura," General Silver suggested upon seeing her struggle. "You've more than earned it, and it won't do for the ship's Commander to present herself as a sleep-deprived husk."
"Point taken, sir," Sasha , giving him a tired but heartfelt salute.
\
/
Enigma:
Officer Cabins.
On the General's suggestion, and honestly being too tired to protest or disagree, Sasha took her leave to get some much needed sleep. The exhausted husky had made her way back to the cabin she'd used to wash up before, and was relieved beyond measure to find Maya Kaido there, waiting for her. Though she recalled an ecstatic embrace between them, Sasha's mind was too far in a depleted, weary haze to observe much detail as she went through the motions of preparing for bed, helped along by her dearest friend and lover.
With Maya's gentle guidance and support, she shed the dark commander's uniform she'd presented to everyone else for the last few hours, and gradually emerged to a comforting state of undress. For the time being, in the security of this safe space with her beloved, she could just be Sasha, and that would be enough...
Yet even here, secluded in this cozy, comfortable cabin, the window to the outside presented an inescapable reminder of the peril facing her and the ship as a whole. In its impenetrable, unknowable, inscrutable menace, the misty gray veil haunted her. 'I don't belong here!' Alastar's pained words rang and echoed in her head like a bell.
As the husky started feeling uneasy at the sight before her, Maya gently wrapped her arms around Sasha's waist from behind, and rubbed her head into her neck. Though her fears and anxieties weren't extinguished entirely, the intimate embrace of her love quieted them for the moment, kept them at bay and distant.
"Maya," Sasha said quietly, almost a whisper.
"Hmm?" the cat replied, pressing her cheek to the other's.
"There's something I need to ask, and I don't think I can ask anyone else," she confessed, reaching down and grasping Maya's hand at her waist.
"Anything at all, Sasha, ask away," Maya reassured, and gave her a small soft kiss on her cheek.
"What if we fail?" the husky asked, her voice wavering as her pace accelerated. "What if we can't get out? What if we really are stuck here? How do I face the crew? How do I tell them we're all going to die here?"
Like the opening of floodgates, the tide of worry she'd held back burst through and crushed Sasha. Her entire body started shaking and trembling like a leaf, and she squeezed Maya's hand even tighter, as if holding onto her final lifeline. In this moment of anguish, the dark feline turned her in in her arms, meeting Sasha's nearly tear-filled gaze with a wide-eyed look of sincere concern.
"Is this happening right now," Maya asked calmly, "or in the next few hours?"
"Well, no... but–"
"Shhh," she quickly shushed Sasha, placing her index finger on her quivering lips.
Once the husky had calmed down for the time being, Maya continued on, never letting her serenity slip, never letting her go. "You're absolutely right; the problems we're up against are pretty bad, but you've got amazing people working on them. They all know the stakes, they're familiar with their stations and their areas of expertise, and they're all inspired by your epic, bad-ass example. You did what you needed to fire them up, Sasha, now it's their time to pull through for you."
Maya gently tugged Sasha into a kiss, which she gladly reciprocated, wrapping her arms around the cat in a tight embrace that pressed their bodies into one another. For some time, their lips meshed together, tongues intertwined within each-other. Her taste and her scent were intoxicating, her every touch against herself was pure ecstasy. Their beating hearts and gentle moaning voices reverberated through each-other's bodies, and their lightly entangled forms swayed together as one.
The moment finally passed as they released each-other, breathlessly panting while they breifly reveled in their rush of passion for each-other.
Maya tipped up Sasha's chin with her thumb and forefinger, looking deep into her eyes as she spoke, "and if the worst does happen, if the end comes for us, I promise you won't face it alone."
Without breaking eye-contact, the dark cat stepped away backward toward the cabin's bed. She kept her arm outstretched toward Sasha, beckoning her to come and join her.
"It's time, Sasha," Maya said as she laid back on the bed, "you've earned this."
With her mind in a euphoric haze, Sasha stumbled forward and clambered into bed next to Maya. It was a little clumsy and ungraceful, but she didn't care, and it didn't matter. Nearly the moment her body hit the cool sheets underneath her, Sasha felt her consciousness start to drift away, and she felt content in it.
The last thing she recalled was a feeling of secure softness as Maya's body snuggled up against hers, and a gentle rumbling as she purred into her back.
