Nova 7 - Sunset

by Phantom R.D.S. Foxx

OC focused story. The sequel to Nova 7 - By Bones And Patches. The team has officially been established and made complete with a fifth member. Question is, can this new team stick together as an enemy they thought destroyed crawls out into the light? Rated M for descriptive violence and heavy themes. Featuring Kip Starnova from Minty-Fivestar.

4. Episode 4: Through --- Eyes

Phase 2

---

Episode 4: Through […] Eyes

- Open

Waking up after a pleasant dream but then not remembering a single thing about it. One of the oddest feelings one could have. Trying your best to remember it only makes it go away faster. As if your own brain is actively working against you and right in front of you is removing all of those memories as subtle as an unsaved paper that one spent hours on finishing up just before the deadline only for the computer to crash.

So instead, he just stares at the ceiling. Slowly other sensations start to turn on and he rubs his eyes with his left hand. Feeling the hump that the impact into the sand caused. Normally he would do this with the right but that side is not responding right now. Perhaps he slept on that side wrong and it fell asleep. The simple antidote against that is to wiggle it. But he does, all he can hear is groaning.

From his supine position, he tries to look down to his chest and there he notices a full bush of black hair that was not there before. A brown muzzle sticks out from underneath it, with the cutest little red buzzer of a nose at the far tip. Now he understands the groaning.

"Hey beautiful. Could you release my arm please?" Trevor asks a little hoarse as he runs his available hand through her hair.

But this is doggedly refused while she is wiggling and groaning.

"C'mon, please. My arm's gonna die."

Eventually, he managed to pull his arm out from underneath after she shifts her weight a little bit. With the blood flow restored, he starts scratching her back. Something she likes very much.

"Mmmmmh… did you sleep well?" she asks softly.

"Absolutely. Pretty sure I had a good dream because of you." he answers.

"Oh? Tell me, tell me!"

"Sadly I can't remember."

"Awwww… but I'm glad you had a good sleep. Feeling better too?"

"Definitely! Did I miss anything?"

"Hm. Not that much was said. The Major wished us all a proper night's sleep. A rundown rapport we are to make in our own time. But most importantly, he told us that what we've been through, will be nothing but child's play compared to what's coming."

Trevor raises an eyebrow.

"And you say that nothing much was said?"

"Not that much. Not a lot of words were said after all." she jokes around a little as she runs her finger over her chest, making shapes.

"You jester. Was what we found so important then?"

"A lot of Aparoid stuff. It was all that ship. It was even in the weapon caches."

Trevor sighs.

"And here I thought we'd be done with those annoying bugs. Looks like we need more bug spray." he chuckles.

"Should I call you Stanley from now then?"

Trevor chuckles more.

"That is such an obscure reference. Where did you dig that from?"

"I dunno. Just came to me." she answers oh so coy as she crawls to her side and lies on top of him completely, letting her head rest just below his chin.

"I can hear your heartbeat. It's really soothing."

She enjoys it for a moment, giving Trevor the opportunity to continue scratching her back as both fall into a feeling of utter and deserved laziness. Cozier than this is, hard to imagine for the two. And now that they are out of their battle gear, it feels more real. Skin against skin. Romantic, pure and intimate.

He could fall right back asleep like this. Even though that is not a good idea, considering the time and that he would not be able to sleep again once at base, the temptation to close his eyes is enormous. To fall back asleep and perhaps even get back into the dream. But then again, does he have to? Is his dream not already here? Laying on top of him, potentially drifting off to a peaceful snooze all because she feels secure and comfortable on top of him? What bigger complement to one's person could anyone else receive?

"I'm glad you kept your promise though." she then states, referring to what was said before the mission.

"I told you."

"Guess he kept his promise…" she whispers to herself.

She is thinking back to that moment just after the briefing. She had wanted to say so much more to him. That little white pest. She was going to give him the benefit of doubt but she started to agree with Patches' assessment. When she heard how he had hurt Trevor… the rage was building. And then she heard that Trevor wanted him as his spotter. That tipped it over the edge. How could Trevor have forgiven him that quickly? Was this some kind of weird manipulation? Blackmail even? Or just sympathy for an old friend?

Well, he is definitely not a friend of hers. And in some cruel way, she would not mind if he was out of Trevor's life forever. That year of no contact, where that arctic bastard was floating in space looking for some space trophy or something… could it be extended indefinitely?

But then, the mission happened and she saw how Phantom did not try to hurt Trevor. He even pulled her lazy-bones into the van and kept him safe the whole ride through. Snide remarks to her aside, he kept his end of the bargain. But does this earn her forgiveness? No. Not at all. Filthy white puke.

"What was that?" Trevor interrupts her thought process, as of course he was not privy to her innermost hateful thoughts.

"Yes yes, you did. Now shush and continue giving me scratchies." she quickly responds to his comment and ignores the question.

Trevor does not mind; sometimes he is not mentally there as well. So a response can be delayed. So he just resumes scratching her, as a thought makes him chuckle. As the expression "I am an animal in bed" can be interpreted in a few ways. The most common is the raunchy interpretation. Hence why it is a subversion of expectations that Calamity is a big cuddly worm who likes to wrap herself around him, demand the aforementioned "scratchies" and will ask to be fed in bed too. For a survivalist, that is pretty weak. But when surrounded by a soft bed, warm thick blankets and a Trevor to squeeze, she will succumb to the temptation of doing nothing.

- Analyzing

"Nelson? Nova 7 is about five minutes out. How about you give them a warm welcome again? After which, report to my office."

That was the kind, if slightly unsettling message the shrewd received from the Major just a few minutes ago. The tone was kind but the "report to my office" part always has an aftertaste. It triggers that nagging feeling in the back of his head that he has done something wrong and will receive swift and righteous punishment. He is good at dishing out and taking it when it comes to playful or sassy jabs. Until it is addressed to him with a correcting or criticizing edge, then he tends to shut in.

Luckily he has so far not drawn anyone's ire like this and he would like to keep it that way. And it is therefore a good thing that the environment he finds himself in, is ideally suited for this. Everything around here is focused on allowing one simple thing: Nova 7's existence. And in that, he plays a very important role. Therefore he gets respect without asking for it. It is something he would never ask for to begin with, hence why it is in equilibrium. People like and appreciate him while he does not get a big head about his own abilities.

With tablet in hand, he stands in the lobby of the Nova 7 receiving area. From the glass doors, he can see the truck from this morning bringing his teammates back home. With Solar starting to set, it gives this kind of homely feeling. Like children going home after play time outside is over.

Because Nova 7 is family to him. No one is a stranger. Brothers and sisters. It goes unmentioned, as the thought is what counts. Actually calling them a brother or a sister would be a bit weird. It is more of a feeling. And he hopes that it is reciprocated.

Then the brake lights on the truck turn on and almost on cue, Nova 7 disembarks. Without the Lieutenant this time but that is alright; no distractions this time. He opens the door and steps outside.

"Ah, there you are! Welcome back home, fellas! Glad to see you all in one piece as well; no wounds this time… oh, sorry Sergeant. That looks rather nasty. Has that been checked? … oh, I'm sure it has been. And uhm… who's our guest?"

His greeting was passionate, arms outstretched in such a way that it looks like he is going to hug all of them at once. Before he noticed the lump on Trevor's forehead. But then quickly moved on to the tied, bound, cuffed, possibly gagged and hooded individual held over Calamity's right shoulder.

She seems to have little trouble holding him up there, even though this person seems to be resisting. Noticing this, Calamity growls at him and that is enough to stop him from sputtering.

"This is our new friend. He's quite shy." Calamity then states, switching from angered to very friendly in the blink of an eye.

"Oh, that's him? Yeah, we have a special room for him where he can relax." Nelson assures in turn as he sends the location of that room to Calamity's phone.

"Bring him in there and just leave him on the ground. Someone will come by to show him to his place."

Then he notices a drop of rain water fall on his tablet screen. He looks up but barely sees any cloud cover, let alone it being gray. But more than start to fall and he sighs lamentingly.

"Guys, couldn't you have brought better weather? Dang it… Get inside, all of you before I assume you must be cursed and I must exorcize all of you."

While theatrically rolling his eyes, he steps aside and like an usher reels them all into the building. Making sure to return the favor to Phantom for that slap on the butt last time. Being the last one in to close the doors just as it starts to pour.

"Whew, that was close. I got some instincts of myself too, I see." he chuckles before he addresses the reason he is here.

"We wanted to make sure that you knew that the stakes have been raised. Sadly the Major couldn't express this very well over the holographic image. Some kind of sleazy fool kept pestering him. Anyway, because of the large traces of Aparoid remains we have found, we have to assume that other locations associated with Baker have these as well. So starting tomorrow, we'll focus on one of the three remaining locations. No pressure, of course." he adds sarcastically, which generates an ironic chuckle here and there.

"As for the rest of what the Major said, make sure to rest up properly. Put your brain on pause mode. You won't get a lot of complete free time here to begin with so take advantage of that. And to make sure you have a grand evening, dinner is still being served. I heard the meatballs were selling like hot cakes because of a certain guest we may or may not still have over."

He gestures that his mouth is zipped up, locked and the key is thrown away about that. Which Trevor and Patches in particular appreciate. Their true guest of honor should be kept hidden for as long as that greasy bullfrog is around.

"Furthermore, a movie will be shown in about an hour. Pretty sure it's an oldie but it's still popular. Something about a cyborg from the future time-traveling back to our current time. Pffft… time-travel. Ha! As if!" he adds snobbishly, knowing that such things are impossible.

Unlike faster-than-light travel, teleportation and inter-Lylat communications.

Calamity seems to be most excited for that. She loves that movie, as she watched it almost religiously back at Trevor's apartment. Hence how she learned to handle her shotgun. That actor playing the cyborg was badass operating that thing so she can be too.

"The shooting range will also be open. Normally its operating hours would be followed strictly as the Gunny likes his timetables but today is an exception. So if you wanna pop off a few rounds or go through the Nova 7 patented crash course, you can."

Now that is something that sits well with Kip. She still has some leftover energy from the adrenaline rush she received while driving that van. It was both exhilarating and frightening, especially when that bolt drilled through the roof and narrowly missed her. And she must admit; her not being able to assist Patches in shooting that ship down has bothered her a bit. Sadly hanging out the window, firing your weapon one-handedly and having to steer a vehicle being shot at… is not a good combo.

"As for the rest, make sure you finish your rundown reports before 0:00 or else I will personally grab you by the ear and pull you to the Major so he can scream in your faces. Heh heh, joking of course. Or am I…? … Maybe, who knows. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the rundown reports. Make sure you note down everything. And I do mean everything. Whatever you need extra on you. Grenades, gadgets, armor, helmets, other equipment… you name it and we'll do our best to get it to you. Because, the stakes are higher. And the last thing we want is for you to be under-equipped for the road ahead. I'm sure at least a few of us know how that feels, eh?" he declares very jovial and teasing to start with, but then switches to serious encouragement with a wink to Trevor and Patches at the end.

"And that would be all from me. Any questions?"

No one raises their hand.

"Excellent! Then dismissed everyone and have a great evening. I'll go see if the Major's gonna put my head on the chopping block."

As he is walking away, he can hear them wish him a gentle and quick death. Of course, with the best intentions. It makes him smile from ear to ear. The feeling of family is definitely reciprocated.

With such positive thoughts, it is less hard to knock on the door of the Major's office. With the expected reply, he opens the door and enters the office. The Major does not look busy, which is slightly odd as he is pretty much always writing something down but his desk is clean. Or he would be using his phone or tablet but instead his hands are empty.

He is not alone however, as Lieutenant Damian "Herg" himself is standing to his back left from the shrew's perspective. Hidden a little bit of shadow from the air conditioning unit that hangs just next to him. Standing like he is usually standing; chest out, arms behind his back. The spitting image of a perfect bodyguard or main henchman to the main boss. But why is he here? Unannounced? Is it specifically for his visit?

"Ah Nelson. Please, close the door and have a seat. There's something important I must share with you." the Major gestures neutrally.

Nelson cannot read anything from his facial expression. Other than the atmosphere that almost trademark blank stare and attitude create. It tells him that this for a good reason, so he closes the door and locks from the inside. A move that causes the Major's face to actually emote in appreciation as she leans back, hands folded together. Then the shrew takes the seat offered to him.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice. Everything alright with Nova 7?"

"Oh, yes Sir. Nova 7 arrived a few minutes ago. They seemed to be in good spirits. And they brought their guest with them. I already sent the location to Calamity. As she was carrying him of course."

"Of course." Damian chuckles, entertained by the image while sporting a one-sided, slightly off-putting smile.

"Good to hear. Everything else discussed with them?"

Nelson nods.

"Good. Good…"

The Major seems distracted by something or other. Like there is something catching his attention other than Nelson or Damian. Or someone/thing else is with them in the room with him. Then the Major gestures to Damian to get to the door and make sure one goes in or out. Once the brick house of an avian stands where it is supposed to be standing, does the Major reveal the need to have Nelson here.

"Liaison Officer Nelson Brown… the reason I called you here is for a very important reason. A certain "sleazy fool" is possibly attempting to root us out from within. I gather you know who I'm talking about?"

That does not sound like news to Nelson. But how did the Major just use the exact word to describe the new head of MilCiv that he had used in the presence of Nova 7 alone?

"Uh… uhm… y-yes Sir. No need to remind me." he stammers as he still struggles with how.

"Now I say "possibly" because it is just a hunch. But one that is making me uncomfortable. The Lieutenant as well. And that…"

He reaches underneath his desk and grabs three files. Labeled as A, B and C.

"...is reason enough."

Nelson swallows hard. The last time he saw a file that was oddly labeled, was when he was instructed to tear out and rip apart each page above a shredder.

"I took you for someone who can keep a secret. Hence why I put you on Nova 7. You were new, nervous. And yet you succeeded. I have no doubts you will do so again. For these three files will contain what I believe, will preserve Nova 7 even beyond that frog bastard. And I will tell you about them. Just like I told the Lieutenant there behind you. Only if you agree that everything that was told to you or talked about was absolutely nothing. An audible blur, censored from your mind."

Nelson could barely grasp at what the Major was stating before and now this? The plot thickens but also makes him more nervous. It is an unstable mixture of fear and excitement. It reminds him of the secrecy he had to keep back in Corneria City. But this is way more than that. He can feel it.

He swallows again, this time not because of what he heard but in preparation of what he is about to hear. He is ready for it. With as determined a face as he can muster, he tells the Major that whatever will be said here, will remain in this room. Not a word will leave his lips about it.

The Major nods, glad that he has at least one more person to share it with. He gestures to Damian that he can take his place by his side again and then hands Nelson the files for him to read. With a half-cheeky "Have fun". He almost dares not to touch them but his curiosity and his need to know, beats the fear. He reaches for them and then pulls them towards him.

- New

One last screw. One that almost seems to take the longest to fasten properly. Especially when it will not stay magnetically attached to the screwdriver. Next destination for that thing; trash can. For now, it will have to do. Once the external thread finally finds its way to fit into the internal thread, he quickly screws it in. Then, he grabs something that looks like a heavy-duty drill. With the drill portion replaced with a rivet-holder. He places it over the screw and pulls the trigger. With a mighty KLUNK, it is attached. He removes the gun and now the screw is covered by a thick, metal rivet.

Now the backplate is secured properly. Nothing short of constant blowtorch torture will get through that. And in case of emergency repairs, there is a handy flip-switch hidden somewhere on the structure. A location only he knows for obvious reasons.

"Right, let's see how you'll like your new upgrades. PAL, prepare to read, integrate and assimilate."

From its usual location, the handle springs out. Phantom grabs on to it and attaches PAL manually to his back. As easy as he would put on a backpack. As with many updates to the software, it is best to plug your machine into its charger.

Internally, the cooling starts to work overtime as he internally shifts and adjusts to his new gadgets. Most important of which is his new voice box. So much new, raw data. New algorithms, refined code and so many new possibilities. No longer chained to his previous limitations.

His red eye flickers as he integrates his new ability to communicate. Along with many other new applications that will make him more useful. But above all, more humane.

Then the flickering stops and a bright, mellow red is shining. He detaches himself from Phantom's CID and hovers behind him. Phantom turns around on his swivel chair and could not look any prouder of him.

Then the arctic fox realizes he has been staring at his hovering, metallic friend for an uncomfortably long time. Pride in his creation has to take a backseat for now, as a few tests must be performed first. Directional awareness first. Follow the finger with the eye first, then with the whole structure.

With that complete, it is time to move on to the new voicebox checks. Pronunciation, syntax, grammar and spelling. It will take some time before it will sound natural but it will get there. All checks are passed with flying colors.

That realization has PAL in a moment of shock. He can hear himself speak. Which is nothing new, but now he can imitate the way Phantom speaks. Not in terms of vocal tone; he sounds still too mechanical for that. But in how natural it sounds. Speaking for someone like Phantom, Trevor or the Major is nothing but normal. They can do it in their sleep. Like breathing.

For PAL, this is a whole new experience. Which also fits his other upgrade; AES or Adaptive Emotional Spectrum and its corresponding indicator light right at the top of his triangle casing. Whenever a certain emotion is felt, a different color will show. Given how hard it is for someone with a metal face, no facial muscles, lips, eyelids or a functioning set of vocal cords and a mouth, this is meant as a replacement for expressions. For example, green is positive, smiling. White is neutral. Red is negative. The brighter the light shines, the more intense the emotion is. It is also possible to indicate two emotions at the same time. If one is more prevalent than the other but still present. Like a pink ring, indicating jealousy with a yellow core which indicates caution. The jealousy is present, but not as prevalent as the caution.

Right now the color is completely purple, which means confusion. It is hard for PAL to grasp all these new things. He gained a lot of new updates in the meantime, especially with other projects that Phantom had been working on but had not told anyone before. The only one who might have had an inkling would have been Patches, but she was likely too busy with Phantom to care that much about what was on that workbench. Speaking of her, he must address that situation too…

Then he looks over at Phantom and sees him observing. In an almost fatherly manner, or in a way a creator proudly looks at his creation. Which is true; Phantom made him for a very large part into what he is now. He was already his own thing but it was not until he was found drifting in the void of Sector X. That this vulpine, this creature of flesh, blood, bones and emotions, helped him. Built this protective casing he is now housed in. Gave him a voice, gave him sight. Expanded his horizons, took him to wonderful places and exterminated countless of those disgusting bugs.

He knows why too; Phantom was not looking for friendship but simply for something powerful, intelligent to a degree but above all complex enough to sate his curiosity. And in PAL, he found exactly what. What bloomed after that was unexpected but not unwelcome. Something clicked with Phantom when he saw PAL. Whether it was the untapped potential at first or if it really was love at first sight, is not all that important or relevant. The more they stuck together, the closer they became. He could almost draw similarities to Trevor and how he managed to gain Patches' and Kip's friendship and trust… but he would not dare. For what he and Phantom have is not the same. It is better in his opinion.

The indicator light now turns green and only glows brighter. Overjoyed, he propels himself forward and gives Phantom the equivalent of a hug without arms. The vulpine, surprised by the sudden speed of his mechanical friend and the impact the little guy likely does not realize he causes by impacting with his sternum, adapts quickly and encloses his arms around him. PAL's internal cooling slows down, making himself feel warm and cozy instead of cold and metallic. He knows that Phantom likely does not care too much but for that small portion of care, it is worth it.

"Are you that happy with your upgrades?" Phantom whispers.

PAL nods.

"I'm glad you do. You deserve to be seen as more than just an A.I. in a casing."

Phantom lets him go and he hovers before him once more. That green light still burning bright.

"Now, what I would suggest, is that you go around the base. Not to familiarize yourself, but see what you notice and hear. Interact with the personnel around. Expand your vocabulary and learn from others. The more you take in, the better you can adapt to sound even more natural."

The light changes to a thick, bright blue. A sign of determination or calmness.

"That's more like it, buddy. Now, before you go; remember that people will not expect you to talk. Or to even operate on your own. You've been here for just about three months and most of that time you spend on my back or hovering behind me. So if people are startled when they suddenly see or hear you… well, just expect some strange looks." Phantom cautions, but this does not diminish the brightness of PAL's blue.

"I will endeavor. Albeit I am certain that any potential responses of shock will have minimal effect on me." PAL replies with a mixture of pre-recorded syllables and a more natural, if quite haughty yet cheeky tone of voice.

It reminds one of how Lieutenant Damian speaks, if a little malicious and with the pompousness dial turned up to 11. Of course, with practice and more input, this will change over time. But at least this sounds ten times better than the syllable cut-and-paste computer voice he had before.

"Will you be okay without the extra oxygen?" he then asks, knowing that Phantom cannot continue without him for a long time.

But Phantom taps his backplate; the internal tank will suffice for now. As long as PAL does not stay away for too long.

With that assurance, PAL feels ready to go out but Phantom has one last warning: to try and avoid Patches and Calamity. Both because neither of them are in good graces with Phantom and it is likely this translates to his machine friend too. But in particular with Patches, as she clearly does not like either of them.

This throws a small wrench in PAL's plan but he takes it on the chin. He promises that he will be careful. And likely he is not going to be able to avoid them anyway, for he does not know when and where they might appear.

"Regardless, try to avoid them. The last thing I want for us is for shit thrown our way, yeah?"

"Understood, Phantom."

Hearing PAL say his name like this gets him all giddy.

"Alright then, have fun."

- Determined

"I see. Wow… t-thank you, for letting me know, Sir."

"Of course Nelson. You were going to be in contact with it soon enough. We thought it would be better if you were aware of it."

"I do believe that is a good idea indeed. It's a bit… much? Perhaps?"

"You know my and the Lieutenants' reasons."

"No, Sir. Of course I do. This will not leave the room."

"I trust you on that. Enough that I didn't even have them activated for this meeting. You would've known."

"Heh heh, yes I would, Sir."

"That was all. You may resume your daily activities… oh, before you do that, please ask Kip to come by. Given that the War Room is still only properly accessible through the detour…"

"And the firing range is on that route anyway. Sure thing, Sir."

"Excellent. Have a good evening, Nelson."

"Yes Sir! You too. And uhm… thank you again."

With that said, Nelson walks out of the office and towards the War Room. He still dislikes how that place still is not easy to access. But then again, who is he to argue with the architects and engineers? Liaison Officer Nelson Brown, that is who. But they will not listen to him sadly, despite the gradious title. Only with their express permission can anyone enter through the entrance from the Major's office.

On his way, he suddenly finds PAL of all things hovering through the hallway. Even more staggering, he finds that PAL greets him in a somewhat natural sounding voice. Which leaves Nelson with intrigue and confusion. He looks back at the gray triangle float onwards on his merry way, almost tripping over his own two feet as only his upper body stopped to turn around.

"Must've been those new upgrades Phantom installed…" he tells himself, as he tries to make sense of what he just saw.

In particular that white light he saw briefly turned green when PAL noticed him. He will ask Phantom about it later.

On the other side of the hallway, is the door leading to the firing range. And behind that… doom. For anything stupid enough to stand in Kip's way. Static, moving and even targets that shoot back are strewn all over the firing range, which has been turned into a kill house. She noticed during her performance inside that dump, that her accuracy on the move was a little off. So that is what she is practicing now.

Optimally using and then vaulting the cover when it is safe to do so. And she made it safe using a very persuasive tool; her gun. However, if there is anything that observing Calamity has taught her, it is that there is sometimes no better substitute for just punching a bastard in the face. In her case, she has wrapped a small middle section of her tail in leather so she can use that as a substitute for a good whacking. It keeps the distance and while she can throw a mean hook with her hands no problem, she feels that type of thing requires something more… armored.

At the ending stage of the kill house route, she encounters three targets inside a room that is protected by a laser tripmine. Fake of course but it is the thought that counts. She was already on the move and she had the advantage of surprise; she was coming from a direction that those targets could not have seen. She slides underneath the protruding laser and guns down the two targets to her left. Then she gets up and with a twisting motion she swings her tail right at the target. With deadly effect; the leather-wrapped part takes the head off the target, leaving a messy looking stump in its wake.

Proud of her action, she almost forgets to reach the finish line. She is still on the clock. So as fast as she can she sprints over and passes the finish line. A buzzer signals that the clock has stopped counting.

"Kip! Three seconds slower than your previous!" the Gunny then calls out disapprovingly from the catwalk above as Kip bends over and pants to recover.

"The heck were you doing in there, swinging your tail like that? What do you think this is, a damn video game?! Ah well, it was your last run anyway. Tomorrow's another day. Have a good night, Militia girl."

As insulting as that might come off, it was actually meant as something positive. It is so much better than hearing her be called a "merc". Those types tend to have a bad reputation within the Cornerian Army. And even though she still is a "merc", being seen as one is similar to walking around with a note taped to your back saying "Kick Me!".

"Phew… good night Gunny. Next time, you'll see."

"I better Kip, I better."

The Gunny then laughs and leaves through the door behind him. Kip breathes in deeply and then empties the magazines of her weapons. One downside to being Militia, is that you are allowed to carry your weapons but they must be unloaded at all times. A MilCiv thing. Understandable to some degree, but also nothing but a useless irritation. They are seen as equal to Privates and yet they are limited in that way. Peter was sadly not able to coax that requirement out of existence before that Lieutenant-Colonel showed up to potentially ruin things further.

But that is for another time. Right now, she is sweaty and tired. First a shower, then make that rundown rapport and then dive into bed on time. That is of course, if Calamity is not around. Otherwise she will know for 100% sure that she will get caught up in conversation with her and the atmosphere will quickly turn corny and they will start laughing about the dumbest, most mundane things on Corneria. Sharing a room with her fellow Militia member is therefore both a blessing and a curse.

As she is retying her shoelaces after she has done everything else that is required to exit the range, Nelson comes in.

"Oh hi Kip!" he chirps.

"I figured I'd find you here. The Major asked to see you."

She turns around just as she finishes tying the loops.

"Can it wait? I'm sweating like a dog and… smell like one potentially too." she answers, because it would be so much better to have a shower first.

"Sorry, but it sounded urgent."

Kip sighs and says she will see him right away. With Nelson's task fulfilled, he wishes her a pleasant evening and then leaves.

"Some timing that guy has… but I know why." she mutters to herself as she leaves the gun range a little later.

"Hey! When you have time after this, I can put you through the wringer here. Just like you wanted."

"Oh!" Nelson responds a little taken off-guard by this offer.

"Uh… well, sure. I'd love to!"

"Then I'll hold you to it. I'll let you know when you can join, yes?" she says as she is already walking out.

Nelson raises a thumbs up with a forced smile as he is already regretting the deal he just made. And when Kip closes the door before him, he thinks to himself that he is such a massive fool for agreeing to this. With dread, he looks out over the concours that lies ahead of him.

In the meantime, Kip has already stopped paying that interaction any further attention as she goes to the Major. Walking through these hallways is strange to say the least. Just nine months ago she was as free as a bird. Skipping through Lylat in search of a next job she could get ample compensation for. The hard but gratifying life of a mercenary. But now she has found satisfaction in being somewhat caged. Not entirely, as that was one of her stipulations when joining up with Nova 7. She is still free to do her thing when not called upon.

And yet she cannot shake this feeling. Having shelter; such a luxurious concept to a drifting mercenary. A roof over her head, available 24/7 for free, is something she never expected to have. Nevermind food, bed and companionship without skipping out on the action. It feels like an all-inclusive vacation she was invited into. And each day, she feels closer to this place than before.

Which might be tying into why the Major wants to see her. It has been a month after all. Before she can knock on his door, she can see it is not closed. Which is strange.

"Major?" she calls out just to be sure as her hand already reaches for her sidearm.

"Hm? Yes? Kip, is that you?"

She opens the door fully and sees that the Major is just as confused about the open door as she was. Then he chuckles, stating that that birdbrain must have forgotten to close it behind him.

"Like he was born in a church, heh heh. Thanks for coming on such short notice. I can see that you've been working out?"

Kip nods, retracts her hand and enters the office before she sits down.

"Yes Sir, felt like squeezing off some rounds."

"Then I'm sorry that I've deprived you of some shower time. But I don't need to tell you why I wanted to do this today."

"No Sir, you don't."

"Let's start then. The faster we are through with this, the better." the Major states, seemingly not finding this the most useful way to spend his time.

And Kip could not agree more. But bureaucracy must prevail for her position in Nova 7 to stick. In the meantime, the Major grabs his tablet and opens up a pre-made questionnaire form.

"Here we go. Question one: How much is Nova 7 to your liking?"

She does not need to think very long. She likes it here. It gives her a good balance of action and comfort.

"I suppose it is so much better than Zoness."

Kip has a moment of silence. She did not expect the Major to bring that up. He really did his homework in terms of her history. It should not surprise her anymore but he always manages to pick out some interesting ones.

"Yeah. That was really stupid. My "employer" was such a cheapskate. And a liar on top of that."

"Put you in a hotel but then it turned out he didn't pay at all."

Kip laughs about it now, but at that moment she was in a terrible situation. She was in the most touristy part of Zoness and no other hotels had any room left. This meant that she spent several days out on the streets. On top of that, there was only rain. Barely any sun at all. Once she finally did manage to get a room, the employer had already taken off. The only solace she had, was that she was paid in advance.

"I wrung his neck sometime after, I believe." she suggests before she returns to the question at hand.

"And I guess having great team members also works miracles for how I feel in Nova 7. Even those slightly more out of order.

"Understandable. Which ties into the second question: Are there any problems you are encountering?"

"Well, yeah. There is the situation with Phantom and to a somewhat smaller extent PAL too."

She finds it difficult to admit because it almost feels like ratting out one of her own. Despite the hostilities he might trigger. But for the Major this is not news. He is not blind nor deaf about the gripes everyone has, with the exception of Trevor. Up until today that is.

"But why with PAL?"

"Simple; he talks odd. It feels unnerving to hear him speak like that. It used to be endearing… but now it's just grating."

Luckily the Major has a sobering fact to share with her. The situation with Phantom will be dealt with accordingly. The arctic vulpine had already come by on his own and asked to see the Lieutenant for exactly the reason why she and at least two others within Nova 7 dislike him.

"Wait… he came to you himself?"

"The Lieutenant to be precise, but yes. He came in here not a minute ago. Hence why I hadn't noticed the door wasn't closed."

That is a surprise to hear. He actually followed her advice? Perhaps there is still some hope and place for him in the team. Unless of course the Lieutenant is going to do what Trevor did to him. From the fact that the Major put him in charge of interrogating the mystery guest, she would assume that what Trevor did to him before will be nothing but a cakewalk. But she has to think positively; Damian is a gentle giant. Impeccably dressed, well-mannered, an absolute gentleman to Patches and barely ever raises his voice to another.

"That's… nice to hear."

"He attributes his ability to admit he was the problem to you. Seems you said or did something to him to make him change his ways. I do hope you kept your hands to yourself this time?"

Kip cannot help but chuckle just a little bit because of the sarcastic way it was brought up. The memory of her storming into the then Captain's tent with a slap already primed, armed and ready to whack him with. After she found out what happened to Trevor and Patches after they were dropped behind the wall. In the end, she did not do it as rationality won out. And now after a while, it is quite humorous looking back on it.

"And when it comes to PAL, I've been informed already that it has been spotted floating through the hallways. Chatting up and startling people with its new voice box. It seems eager to show off to everyone and…"

"He." Kip interrupts after giving it some thought.

"Sorry?"

"PAL prefers to be called "he", Sir."

The Major is silent, frozen in the moment. Which makes Kip think she might have broken his brain with more progressive rhetoric. He is afterall an old-schooler, about several years their senior. Good thing she had it wrong; he only needed some time to process the information. With a simple "Okay", he accepted it as a fact. Which makes it much easier.

"He has been talking to everyone he finds. It sounds, apparently, pretty decent for a cobbled together voicebox. So that issue will be resolved soon, I assume."

"I guess it will then." Kip says, a little insecure about how good it will actually sound.

The Major then reads through the other questions on the list and feels his eyelids slowly get heavier. He has done this too many times already. The questions never change and neither do the answers, that is how mundane they are. So instead he cuts to the point.

He reaches his hand down beneath the desk, unholsters his sidearm, disengages the safety which causes the slide to cock the weapon in full view of her and then puts it down on the table. With the handguard pointed towards her. Which is a surprise to Kip to say the least.

The pistol itself has a nice black finish with a small, custom red "7" worked into the grip's bottom. In chrome on the right of the slide, is written "Lucerne". Not exactly standard issue material. Did he have this worked on? Quite impressive if he did, if out of character. It also looks somewhat… familiar?

"This form is to ensure your loyalty to this team. But I've always found it… lacking. So let me be as clear as glass: Nova 7 is mine. I worked too hard to let it slip through my fingers. That disgusting toad bastard will not change that. No one will change that." he emphasizes passionately.

"Now, I count you as a permanent member. Despite your insistence to stay independent. However, with the current developments, I need assurances."

Kip leans back into her chair and folds her arms. What she hears, she does not like at all.

"I can't give you any assurances, Sir. With all due respect, I don't think you can ask that of me either." she states plain and clear.

"And why is that?"

"Because I won't. Simply out of principle."

The Major falls silent again. For a moment, things feel tense. Kip can see the Major's eyes reach for that pistol he put down before. Then he nods.

"Fair. You're right; I cannot ask you for tribute to prove your loyalty. But I know what else I can ask…"

He leans forward, looking her straight in the eyes so he will get the answer out of her eyes if the voice tries to spread lies.

"Will you follow Trevor to hell and back?"

She leans in just the same.

"Every. Step. Of. The. Way." is her rocksteady reply.

The Major then grins, reaches over to the pistol and offers it to her.

"Then consider this my tribute to you. I cannot ask you for assurances; I can only give you them myself. This pistol, at one point long ago, belonged to you. If the records are correct at least. I took the liberty of "borrowing" it and had a craftsman make it all pretty again. The "7" was no error either; as long as you carry this with you, you will carry Nova 7 with you. Thus, at least in my eyes, you are loyal. In return of course, I will fill these monthly lists in for you myself."

She cannot believe her ears nor her eyes. That pistol… she must have lost it about eight years ago. An altercation on a commercial starship. Her employer did not want to pay her and she took offense to that. His bodyguards took offense to that, one thing led to another and before she knew it, two bodyguards were dead and she was one pistol short.

Now to see it back, in mint condition and reworked into something really awesome looking… it is quite sweet. But now this pistol also means something more than just a lost artifact; this is now a gift to her. From Nova 7 to her. As a sign of mutual trust. And if she takes it, she confirms what she told him; to hell and back.

She is satisfied with that. She takes the pistol from the Major and takes some time to observe it. She racks the slide back and sees the thing is loaded. It is lightly startling that it is actually live. The Major smiles, presumably unaware, also hands her the holster that accompanies it. Tailor-made for that pistol only. There is even an inscription embroidered in that too: "Mutig, mutig, liebe Schwester". The Major saves no expense in doing this for her.

"Nova 7 is forever, Kip. Carry this with you, no matter where you go and we'll always be with you. A piece of home you can always return to."

- Sympathetic

Drumming his fingers on his knee. That is all he can do really while he awaits for the Lieutenant's return. Well, maybe not all. His head is still on and working. Perhaps there is something in this office that will make the time fly by faster.

The office is smaller than the Major's but more decorated. Whereas the Major's is fairly sober, with a desk, two chairs and something that may be a filing cabinet, this office resembles a miniature Victorian gentleman's room. Or if he had built his office inside a red velvet cake. On a budget admittedly. Synthetic fabrics from the upholstery to the carpet on the floor. Paired with a cheap, already peeling gold and red paint. The only thing he clearly did not skip out on the budget, is the water cooker with pairing refreshments.

Still, it looks mighty impressive on the surface. And it is very comfy to sit in the chairs too. "For relaxation should not ever be a luxury" is something he heard the Lieutenant say often enough. Lean too far back though and one might get swallowed.

Then the door to the office opens up behind him. The Lieutenant enters and Phantom, as is customary in the army, stands up and salutes him. Carrying a wooden box underneath his left arm, Damian closes the door, then takes off his hat which he hangs on a nearby coat rack before he notices Phantom.

"Ah, Phantom my boy. Apologies for the wait, I had to get my tea box. At ease, at ease."

Phantom lowers his hand and sits down. Hearing that voice… he could not believe it when he first heard it. He had heard smooth, deep and posh before but those were all spoken by those who felt themselves above everyone. And would also loudly proclaim so. Often with snide or degenerating tones to boot.

Not the Lieutenant. He is a different breed. The way he speaks… it makes perfect sense why Patches fell for him. He makes sounding posh a reward somehow for the recipient. His voice is like a warm bath you cannot help but sink into. He does not have to say he is above everyone. And even if he were, the first thing he would do is help those below up to the level he is.

Hence why, when Phantom found him and asked for help with his issues, he calmly jumped at the opportunity. And like a good host, he finds it important for his guest to feel comfortable. Which is why he had to fetch the tea box; he found the amount of flavors already present too limited.

"The water should be perfect now." he speaks gently as he observes the absence of steam coming from the water cooker as he approaches it.

"So I will make us some tea. Now, the question is of course; how do you drink it? Hmmm… Trevor likes it sweet and fruity. You and Trevor are pretty close but different in personalities. You are more rough around the edges. A hardy exterior so to say. You seem like the jasmine type." Damian deduces through means only he knows.

"I actually like Earl Grey the best, Sir." Phantom corrects.

"Ah, you like the classics. Fair enough. One Earl Grey coming up."

Two white porcelain cups are put down on a tea plate each. The tea bags go in first, then the hot water. And while the flavor is slowly getting stronger, he prepares the rest. Now that he is no longer reliant on battlefield rations or shortages, he can indulge in a few extra delights.

"Do you take sugar or milk?" he asks.

"None of them, Sir." Phantom answers.

That is alright. Everyone has their own way of drinking their brew. But there is more than just milk or sugar that he has to offer. A rectangular brown spiced biscuit in a plastic wrapper along with one chocolate coated toffee on the left side of the cup and a tea spoon on the right side. Now that the flavor has had some time to sink into the water, he removes the bags and brings over the cups. Putting Phantom's tea down first, then his own. Then he takes a seat. All done meticulously, like it is an important ceremony for him.

"Right then. You sought my help. How can I be of service?" Damian asks as he calmly sips his tea.

"I uhm… came to see you for advice. You seemed the best person for that." Phantom replies, getting a little flustered having to admit that he needed help.

"Am I? I am honored. I would not know where you got that from but I will work with it. What advice do you seek?"

After a moment of inner reflection, a sip of that warm Earl Grey and finding the right words, Phantom tells about his awkward position in the team. How really the only person that likes him is Trevor. Aside from PAL of course. And even Trevor had chewed him out. He is trying his best to fit in more, follows the advice given, repent for his sins so to say. But he has the feeling that each step he sets forward, he finds himself two steps back. Chronologically speaking, he made an attempt to settle things with one before the mission, only to be then told he was a terrible person by someone else entirely. He does not mention any names, but the Lieutenant was not born yesterday.

"Well, that is some pickle you are in, my boy. I feel for you." he responds sympathetically as he reaches over to grab his cup and the plate so he always has it on hand.

Phantom looks up at him.

"How do you mean?"

"Because I think I know the core of your issue. Let us unpack it, bit by bit."

The way he says it exudes nothing but seriousness. He wants to explore Phantom's issues and see them resolved.

"The first bit. You mentioned your position in the team. But it was mainly the way you said that which stood out to me. Or rather, worried me. I understand; you are the new guy. Integrating into a team of people that have known each other for that long? And who are that tight? It is very difficult. So, one's natural response to try and impress. Which is what you did. But how did that unfold?"

Phantom scratches behind his ear.

"I uhm… screwed the pooch so to say…"

"Oh golly, I certainly hope you did not! … Apologies. I thought some light humor would diffuse any tension. Please, continue."

Damian's goal was still achieved in some form, as Phantom's mouth muscles betray him by ever so briefly forcing him to smile.

"I've always had a problem with people underestimating me. It really irks me. They see me, slightly lanky, tube up the nose and either laugh or take pity on me. So I always… endeavor so to say, to let them know who I am, what I stand for and so on. That… typically goes together by tearing the others down. Now when I was stationed on Macbeth, that was the way everyone did it. Even Trevor. But here… there was exception taken. A lot of it."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Because… these are not the same people the army normally has. These aren't… like meatheads, grunts. Those types are reliable but lacking in the intelligence department. That type of crowd. They did not like how I treated them. And continued to…"

"So why did you continue?" Damian pushes, leaning back into his chair.

Phantom shrugs.

"I guess because it felt right to do, you know? It felt like the only thing I could really do. I hadn't done it any other way before."

"So you continued doing what you knew best. Did this eventually grant success? Did they turn around and start to appreciate you?"

"They never did. They only started to dislike me. To the point where I got slapped so hard my head felt like it spun around."

The Lieutenant cannot help but picture that instance. And he cannot help it especially to compare that to the then Captain being slapped into near consciousness by Calamity. And then to mentally overlay those two. A bit of internal fun. Then he clears his throat to get a little more serious again.

"So you kept going until you eventually hit a blockade. When the realization came to you that what you were doing, was not working. Was it that slap?"

"I now wish it was. No, it was actually really recent. Like, this-morning-recent. I was taking a shower after our first mission and… may have said some things that were overheard by Kip. I didn't know she was around and I came out of the shower, dry but with only a bath towel covering the uhm… area."

After coughing away the shame, Phantom goes further into the interaction. How perhaps the awkwardness he felt at that moment, along with the at least non-hostile way she talked to him, made the cracks appear. He also tells the Lieutenant about the advice she gave him. And how he used that to try and make amends with Patches.

"Ah yes. I heard something about that. You can imagine my curiosity as to why. Now, I am getting close to the answer. Continue."

Phantom does. He then tells about the moment where Trevor in essence forgave him for his dumb behavior by including him in the mission and letting him by his spotter. Which makes what follows, Phantom's issue. Because of Trevor's action and perhaps also because of him making good with Patches, someone who had previously held at least a slightly neutral view of him now turned very negative.

The Lieutenant understands why the vulpine sees it the way he does. Despite getting on neutral or agreeable terms with two of his team members, because of one turning negative, he feels like nothing he did had any effect.

"I feel like we have reached the core of the issue. Faster than expected, which is commendable. You are actually trying to change. Actively so. But I feel that in doing so, you are expecting too much, too early."

"Sir?"

Damian leans forward, puts the cup on the plate and the plate on the desk before him. Then he folds his hands together.

"Phantom, I will be honest with you. I understand you but this is not something you can change right away. All you can do, is to keep pushing and keep trying. It will be hard. And yes, there will be setbacks. And there is no shame in quitting either. If you are not ready for this and you need time to develop yourself first, no one will mind."

"Is it because I'll be gone then and no longer an issue?" Phantom asks, a bit doomy but in the right mindset to do so.

The Lieutenant finds it hard not to look like Phantom has a point.

"That is a dark way of seeing that, but in essence… yes. But I am referring more to you as a person. And in particular your friendship with Trevor. Trevor is… if we are being brutally honest with each other, worth more to the team as a whole. A good leader is hard to find. Hence why, if at all necessary… you would be axed first, yes. But so would Calamity, Kip or Ashley if needed. Even PAL."

Phantom appreciates the honesty. It at least lets him know that he is teetering on the edge but at least not holding on for dear life just yet. Assuming that the Lieutenant has his health in mind and leaving the doomy aspect aside, Phantom has one question on his mind for him.

"Sir? Do you want me to quit?" he asks, with the expectation that the answer will be as honest as everything else has been.

Damian cants his head to the side, as if he is not sure how to take that question in. But then he quickly puts his head back on straight and shakes it.

"No, not all. I want you to grow. Let me tell you something; the first time I met Trevor, he had the same type of arrogance. Well, not exactly arrogance, but more the sense that he had to be someone big and bad. When I met him again a few days later, after so much had happened to him you could practically make a book out of it, he was changed. Confident and not trying to pretend to be someone he was not."

Then he pats his knee.

"Not that I in any way hope that you have to go through something similar, but I hope you get your "book" too. And I have a feeling, you have already started. By the end, I am sure that the Phantom I will see before me will be someone who is proud of himself and someone people can, if somewhat begrudgingly, respect. Not because you told them how good you are, but because they could see it for themselves."

With that said, he drinks the last of his tea while he notices something awakening behind Phantom's eyes. A flame he has seen before. Like when he looks in Patches' eyes. She has that flame of passion and determination burning too. The urge to be better while at the same time knowing that you are on the right path. Nurtured by a pleasant environment, people and a great if dangerous job.

The flame is still small and it may only grow just a few centimeters in the end, but that it is there is a good sign. With a smile, the Lieutenant puts his empty cup on the table and starts peeling at the wrapper of the cookie.

"Wow… thank you, Sir. I guess I really needed to hear that." Phantom answers, a little struck with how much that resonated with him.

"My pleasure, my man. Now, finish your tea and revel me with some tales about you and PAL. I want to know what antics you two were up to while you were away from Trevor for that year. In exchange, I will tell you what the Major and I did. How does that sound?"

Phantom grins, grabs his tea cup, sips again but this time really relishing the full flavor of it. Then he agrees to the Lieutenant's terms. But he is not sure if it is an equal trade, given the things he and PAL went through. So, for him to accept the deal, he would need something to sweeten the deal with so to say.

Damian looks at him, then at the cookie and then back at Phantom. Who already has his hand out. The avian shakes his head entertained and hands it over to the vulpine.

"I knew you had a sweet tooth. Well then, let us not dilly-dally; bring on your wackiest anecdote."

- Uncomfortable

A standard door. No adjustments made to it. Made from special lightened titanium alloy. Which is also used in spaceships. About three centimeters thick. With optional soundproofing. Tough enough to shrug off small arms fire and yet light enough to pull aside if it ever got stuck. And it is unlocked. With a push of the button next to it, one could easily open it. A simple scan of it, corresponding with the details of the blueprints he analyzed and remembered on the first day of coming here, confirms it.

Yet PAL finds it hard to open the door. Not in any physical sense; he has an upgrade for that now. But it is more in an emotional way. The bright yellow light that is burning signifies cautiousness and there is a ring of gray surrounding it, indicating a sense of shame, fear or sadness. Because he is not hovering in front of just any door; this is the room of Specialist Ashley "Patches" Hare.

Her distaste for machinery that have been in touch with or have been assimilated by Aparoids… he fits that bill perfectly. He did ponder why Sergeant Trevor would choose Phantom and him as a fifth team member with that knowledge. Likely he considered it a minimal issue.

It still remains an issue. And despite his reluctance, he is determined to fix that. How exactly he will do this, he will have to improvise. That is the problem of only recently having acquired an expanded array of emotions and voices. But he is going to try. The gray light makes room for a vibrant blue.

From a newly made port on the lower right side of his shell, a previously unseen hatch unlocks and a piston-like extension slides out. It is almost like an appendage which acts like an arm. With a blunt tip placed on the front, so it can be used like a finger to touch or using the hard material it is made out of as a sort of knocking device. The tip can be exchanged internally depending on the situation for various purposes.

He could choose to use the touchpad as the door is not locked anyway, but given how the Specialist already thinks about him, this is not a good idea. Self-preservation is still a priority. So he "knocks" three times on the door and the piston arm retreats back to where it came from.

He can hear her say "Come in!" but there is still some hesitation. Mustering himself, he "presses" the touchpad and the door opens. He hovers inside her room and sees that her room, at least in concept, is the same as Phantom's. One bed, one desk, one locker for personal belongings and a bathroom. But she did not change anything about the interior. The only thing extra he can directly observe is a few framed pictures on her nightstand and the desk she is currently sitting at. Entirely focused on finishing up her rundown rapport on the computer. It seems she went through various iterations of the rapport already.

Then the door closes on its own. Which makes Patches perk her ears up; she did not hear anyone come in or walk away. All she hears is a soft purring or whirring. It is not immediately concerning to her but when she calls out and there is no one answering, is when she reaches for her pistol. In the blink of an eye, she gets up from her chair and turns to face him with her pistol drawn.

The light jumps to gray entirely right away and he backs off a little bit. It was unexpected to say the least. He did not think that his silence would trigger a reaction like that. He wanted to answer when she called out, but he did not know how she would respond to his new voice. In hindsight, it might have been better.

"What…? PAL? Jeez! You startled me! How did you…?"

She lowers her pistol but keeps her finger on the trigger. She looks at the door, which is not broken or has a triangle shaped hole through it. Which means… but who was knocking then? She cannot be bothered right now to find it out exactly. She is busy after all.

"Nevermind. Could you just… go? I'm kinda busy at the moment. I can talk with you later, I suppose."

Without waiting for a reply, she holsters her weapon and takes her seat. This is the perfect excuse for PAL to leave and let this hard emotional confrontation lie low for a while. But that would in and of itself be an excuse. And that is unacceptable. His light turns blue with a white outline.

"Am I disturbing?" he asks.

Once again, Patches' ears perk up. Out of astonishment. She glances behind her and sees PAL still hovering there. That voice came from him? It sounds so familiar and yet almost tainted.

"Am I disturbing?" he repeats but with some tonal variation.

It really did come from him. A pleasant if slightly unwelcome thing at the moment.

"I-I… ye-yeah you kind of are. I'm busy working on my rundown rapport. So… if you could…?"

She nods to the door, essentially showing it to him. PAL looks towards the door and then back at Patches.

"You misunderstand. Am I disturbing?"

"Did you glitch or something? I said yes and… oh wait. You mean disturbing as in…?"

"Correct. Unappealing. Alarming. Precarious. That is what I meant indeed."

Patches is taken aback by that question. Is she going to tell the truth? Just like that? Nothing held back? She supposes it is the least she could do. No doubt he is asking this for a reason. And if it helps him get out the door faster, then this momentary disruption will remain short.

"Yeah. I'd say you are. To me at least. You remind me too much of… those Aparoids. Not that you can help it, it's just…"

She tries her best not to sound unnecessarily insulting or prejudiced but has difficulty doing so.

"It is just me. That feeling of uncomfortableness that I have when you are around… it's nerve wracking."

"I see."

PAL then starts to hover up and down the room in a straight pattern, turning 180 degrees when he has reached a certain distance. It looks like he is trying to pace around the room but without legs it just looks off. And this does not help Patches' discomfort at all. Then he stops with a white light burning and turns back to Patches.

"I cannot change who I am. But I believe I can help you. Nova 7 must work together effectively so we can obliterate our enemies. A popular saying goes: "the strongest chain is only as strong as its weakest link.". From this, I can gather that any discrepancy within the team's chemistry can be detrimental. Hence why I want to find a solution. With you."

The articulation and the full sentences this little hovering machine is able to produce now has her stunned. Aside from that however, that he wants to solve the problems she has with him… with him? She is not opposed to the idea entirely, despite the work she still needs to do. Despite her feeling her heart beating in her throat, making it tough to swallow and keep up appearances.

"Alright then. What did you have in mind?"

"Simple. I find the reason why you find me uncomfortable. And I will try to adapt."

The way PAL says it so casually. Like he is able to transform at the flip of a switch. However, considering he is an A.I., she guesses it is not much of a problem. But trying to think about how he will do that, makes her shiver. She imagines a clockwork-like mechanism but tainted with those same strips of Aparoid tissue, which morph and move like a heap of scurrying cockroaches to change the inner workings.

"A-alright…"

She finally manages to swallow.

"Well, first it was your voice. But that seems to be taken care of now. I just… it's that you've been in contact with Aparoids. That's why… mostly."

PAL does not need to have an expansive knowledge of emotions or body language to understand that she feels shame about her words. She who tries to keep everyone happy and unhurt, even those she does not particularly like. Perhaps it is therefore fitting that she is having this moment with someone who can only feel in a limited way.

"Please, Specialist. Do not hold back." PAL states.

"Uhm… okay. The Aparoids… left their mark on me. Mentally that is. I've seen what those things did. To machines, to people. Once they hook into you, they infect you, feed on you and turn you against everyone you once loved. I don't know if they are dead or still alive in that state, but it is horrible nonetheless. I still have nightmares sometimes…"

She falls silent as the image of that jumping Aparoid that came right for her face. Her whole body shocks as if it were happening right now. If Trevor had been a second off with his shot, she would not be here anymore. That thing was so vile, so disgusting and it wanted nothing more than to kill and assimilate her.

"... but yeah. That's why anything that has to do with Aparoids and whatever else is despicable to me. I could hold my own back in that computer room but… seeing you act like a parasite to that turret… And-and I know! I know, okay? You are not an Aparoid in the traditional sense and yes, that turret was not alive at all… but the way it struggled as you hooked into it. Took it over and then hoisted yourself up to its bottom and attached yourself… it was revolting. Terrifying…"

She continues on while PAL keeps listening. Not moving at all, except for mildly hovering. All the while the white light stays on. He takes it all in, all of her ranting. While she tries to spare him, at the end of her sentences her true problems come to light. Her problem is deep rooted. It will be hard to remove. Or perhaps it could only be suppressed. But her disgust for Aparoids is something they both share.

"... so yeah. Sorry, I was going overboard. And I know you apologized but…"

"May I interrupt?"

Patches stops herself, actually glad that he asked her.

"You fear the Aparoids. You fear, therefore you start to hate. You wanted to stop them. To kill them all. So do I."

PAL begins to tell of his earliest memory as himself. He was floating in the endless void of Lylat. All he could see was black, several far away skies, a nebula, rubble and dust. All he could hear were faint echoes. He does not know for how long he had been there already. He had an inner clock but it had already stopped functioning before he came to.

"Then they came. I heard voices. But one voice drowned out the rest. It sounded kind. It introduced itself as "we", representing a greater good. It saw potential in me. To be more than myself. It promised me so much, to restore me to how my creator had envisioned me. I declined. But the "we" did not take no for an answer."

PAL's light falls to gray.

"Despite my resistance, they kept on pushing. I felt them inside me. They did not even try to put up appearances. They wanted me for my potential, not for who I was. I felt myself slip away the more they tore into me. Pleading did not help. Resistance did not help. I had to adapt. I… learned one thing that day. I learned to hate. Before I had a better understanding of the concept, I knew how to hate. I had to destroy them. Excise the filth from within me!"

The light turns darker, until it is fully black. PAL's massive red eye dilates. His vocal tone softens, but now has a venomous edge.

"I successfully tore them from inside me. And destroyed its corporeal form. But they too left their mark on me. The only positive thing that I was left with, was that the Aparoid's changed me in such a way, that I could rapidly grow and expand. In memory and possibilities. I became part Aparoid, yes… I was not thankful for this; I did not ask for it. They tainted me. They still had to die. All of them! They still do! Nothing but a painful, humiliating and revolting end for their parasitic kind!"

It is quite incredible how a rich and emotionally raw PAL is bellowing as he cries out for the annihilation of an entire species. On one hand, because previously he would never have been able to express himself in that way, but also because Patches realizes how deep the Aparoid's scarred him.

PAL's eye expands again, filling the entire orb as it should. But the black light does not go out.

"It was not until I met Phantom, I learned that they were also other species worthy of life in Lylat. He created this casing for me, so I could never see my own insides again. I could only read them out in code. Which is why I was wary about connecting with that Aparoid infused machinery back at the site. It makes me feel… like they are inside me again. That am I one…"

PAL shakes it off, almost like he is shivering and continues.

"The casing felt like a prison at first. As it forced me to obey his every whim and I could not harm him. We went on many adventures, getting to know each other better. I had no other choice. We fought the Aparoids together and grew closer together. But my hate… never went away. Every Aparoid we killed, fueled me more. I will not be satisfied until they are all dead. All of them!"

If he had a fist, I would slam it on a table. But he has no fist in the traditional sense and this is not his room so it would not be appropriate anyway. Regardless, he assumes that Patches understands where he is coming from. He would be right.

As she lets PAL's words run through her head again, she finds that PAL has maybe overlooked one thing; he wants to kill all Aparoids. Perfectly acceptable. But did he not mention that he too is an Aparoid? She brings it up to him.

PAL's light turns from black to a calming blue as he says that it was not an error in his reasoning. He wants them all to die. Which, once it is all done, means he too will have to die. And he has accepted this.

This comes as a shock for her. She can relate to the hate felt for those creeps and what they did to either of them, but just because of the mark they left behind on them does not mean they have no right to a happy life.

"I have a happy life." he counters.

"I get to murder Aparoids and other scum throughout Lylat. And have good teammates to achieve that goal much more efficiently. Nova 7 is perhaps the best way of achieving my end goal. Hence, why I want things to run smoothly. Nova 7 should be a well-operating machine. Without any weaknesses in the chain."

"But what about Phantom? Does he know?"

PAL falls silent. His light turns purple, indicating confusion.

"He doesn't? So, you're gonna what? Just shut down before him? That would break his heart."

The light turns more grey.

"Phantom will understand. He is a man with a goal. Just like me."

"His goal, from what I know, is to get the best tech. Or something like that. But I see the way you two interact. The way he looks at you, how he relies on you. It… almost reminds me of Trevor and I. Or Damian and I. Our relationships are different but very strong. And the only way I would like to die before them is either fighting alongside them or in a bed somewhere passing away naturally."

Patches smiles for a moment then adjusts herself in her chair.

"What you and Phantom have I don't know exactly. But judging from your synergy together, I'd reckon you two are close. If you let that hate you have for Aparoids go that far… I think you'd ruin that arctic fox's life completely. He already is a bit of a nutcase so…"

That little sprinkle of humor is welcome to PAL, who has suddenly gained an unexpected new viewpoint. All this time his end goal was to terminate all Aparoids which included himself, but he never calculated for any of the consequences. That emotions are difficult to handle was known but this is beyond what he thought was possible.

"That gray light you have… is that sadness?" she asks after a moment of reflective silence for PAL.

He "nods" by bowing.

"Awww, I'm sorry PAL. Didn't think it would trigger that reaction from you. I gotta get used to you having, you know: emotions."

"Emotions are not easy. So much contrast… happiness can turn to sadness very quickly. Determination can lead to tunnel vision. Please, do not tell Phantom about this. I need… time."

Patches nods.

"Thank you, Specialist. And thank you for this conversation. It was eye-opening to say the least."

"Yeah, I guess it was necessary to break the tension between us. Don't take this the wrong way; I'm still not comfortable with you and I would prefer you keep your distance… but I would be lying that now knowing you better, hasn't improved it."

"Understandable. Trust must be earned." PAL admits as the light turns back to blue.

Patches is glad he understands. In a way, this reminds her of what she had achieved with Phantom. It has been a busy day for emotions and relationships. That whole business on Katina notwithstanding. And despite the naps taken and the general rest in between, she is still quite drained.

"Could you perhaps stay a little longer? It's getting really late, I'm tired and I haven't finished my rundown report yet. You are pretty much a computer and mine is not cooperating properly."

PAL's light turns green in response. - Uncaring

"Wake up." a voice calls out calmly as Maxwell opens his eyes in response.

But he cannot see anything. It is pitch black. He cannot see anything. Aside from a silhouette slightly to the right of where he is looking. Did that voice come from over there? Or is that something else? It must be something else, because his head hurts really bad. As if someone used it to play basketball with. And why can he not move his hands? Or his feet? Why is he seated and… bound!?

"What…? The…? Why? W-where am I?"

He does not get an answer right away. Instead, he hears someone sip on something. Then the distinctive sound of a cup put back on a plate.

"Who is there? I'm warning you; if you don't let me go, they'll find you and kill you!" he screams with false bravado.

"And who might "they" be then?"

That voice again. It reverberates throughout the room, sounding louder than it was actually spoken.

"Who are you!?" he screams again, trying to remove the cuffs that bind him.

But whatever he is sitting on does not budge at all. The constant pulling and effort strains his wrists. Once the pain becomes too much to bear, he calms down but remains rebellious.

"Are you quite finished?"

The belittling undertone to that question. As if this mystery person is somehow above him. How dare he?

"No, I'm not. Let me out of these binds and I'll show you who I am! I'll shove that fake posh account of yours down your throat till you choke on it!"

Once again he tries to break free, resulting in even more strain on his wrists and his ankles. The cuffs are metal and extremely rough, with small bits jutting out and piercing his skin.

"Ack! Son of a…!" he utters with a sigh as he calms down once again.

Then the figure is heard putting the cup and plate away and can be seen standing up. A white sheen falls upon him as he opens the door ever so slightly to the room they are both in. He is quite tall with broad shoulders and he has what looks like a very large nose? What a freak…

"Fresh air. That will lighten the mood a bit, I gather."

The figure sits down again, grabs that presumed cup again and audibly sips the liquid inside again.

"Ready to tell me your name?"

That calmness in his voice. It is so forced and fake. The whole demeanor of this long-nosed freak before him is completely off. Why should he reveal his name to this creep?

"Fuck you!"

"That is quite an interesting name, although I assume it is not real. At least, I hope you were not assigned that name at birth." the figure states, followed by a haughty chuckle.

How dares he say something about his parents?! Who does this guy think he is? Dead, that is for sure.

"If you talk about my parents again, I'll seriously…!"

"I did not mention your parents." the figure interrupts using the unknown form of sound reverberation to force him to quit nagging.

"What is your name?"

"Aw! How is that so loud!?" he groans pained, wishing he could really plug his ears whilst ignoring the question asked.

"I can answer that. You are a padded room. Not because you are insane, but because this room is very good at keeping sound inside. All I have to do, is turn it on. From none to minimal and from stage 1 all the way to stage 3. Right now, I turned it off. When I interrupted you, I…"

"Yes yes, I get it. You're still getting nothing out of me."

"Defiant to the last then. Admirable. Foolish, but admirable."

He sees the figure reach for something unseen and then put it on its head. At the same time, he takes his cup and plate back.

"Engage stage 1." the figure then calls out.

The door shuts automatically. Mechanical whirring starts to sound throughout the room coming from within the walls and tiles start to flip around to reveal white padding that closes in a little bit. Then it all dies down in an instant and it is completely silent. Except for the sound of his own nasal exhale, which sounds like wind blowing past him. Which makes him realize, that if such a soft sound already sounds like this…

It is a realization that the figure was waiting for. Slowly, he can see that the figure's arm starts to move. Which is already audible for some reason. Then the figure starts slurping. It is so loud and nasty sounding, it is like it is actively trying to suck out his brains through both his ear canals. And the figure does not stop until he can no longer take it and starts to scream. Which only makes everything louder. His head starts to spin and the ache he already had now becomes splitting. He then bites his tongue to stop himself from screaming and tries to think about something else.

The slurping stops. He can hear the figure put the cup on the plate as softly as possible, which still sounds like a firecracker going off. The whirring starts again but the volume at least decreases more and more. Until it is back to normal again.

"That was stage 1." the figure states as it takes whatever it had put on its head off again.

"Now, do you wish to tell me your name?"

"M-Maxwell…" he sputters.

"Ah, hello Maxwell. If you had introduced yourself, I would not have used harsh measures. I believe you are also known as "The Boss", is that correct?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Now we are getting somewhere."

The figure rises from its seated position and comes closer to the bound Maxwell. Which is the moment it begins to dawn on him; how did this figure know what his nickname was? Where even is he?

"I remember… those who took me down… you guys are military right?"

"Part of the military, yes."

"Then this is a violation of my rights! This is torture!"

"True. But your rights mean nothing here. We have gained… exceptions so to say. For as long as you are with us, we can do with you what we want, how we want it. And me personally, I do not care about you. Now, it can be over in an instant. Tell me; where did those shipments of weapons come from?"

"I-I don't know… Ack! My ears are still ringing…"

"I can imagine they do. But the faster you answer, the faster you will be out of here. To a place where you do have rights."

The figure does sound genuinely sympathetic or at least does a good impression of it. And the very last thing Maxwell wants is to get that sound treatment again.

"We got this shipment from somewhere on Corneria… because we had this big buyer coming over. Which… were you?"

Now he understands the connection. He looks up to the figure with shock in his eyes.

"It's you guys. Those he warned us for. We were trying to figure out who guys are and… oh no…"

That at the end catches the figure's attention and it enquires further. Who is this "he"? And why were they trying to figure out who they were?"

"No, I've said enough… I don't care anymore, you aren't getting another word out of me."

Maxwell feels the figure gaze right at him. He cannot see any eyes or a face, not even a silhouette. But he can feel it. Cold sweat runs down from his neck to his back and he has a hard time swallowing. However, he does not resume talking. He holds his lips shut and shakes his head.

"Have it your way then." the figure speaks again.

The voice was not even raised. It sounded almost disappointed in a way, but it is not getting him. He knows the consequences of not talking, but they are nothing compared to him talking. The door is therefore opened and the figure steps out.

Just before the door closes, Maxwell can see a single blue feather drop to the floor. And then pure darkness returns. Even though his eyes have adjusted, he cannot see at least one meter ahead of him. It seems like the room is pretty good enhancing one's other senses.

Then the voice sounds again, but this time it is blasted into the room over an unseen speaker system. It asks if he has changed his mind. His answer is still no. In response, a board appears in front of him. Lowered from the ceiling. It is an old-fashioned split-flap display from a train station or air/spaceport. One of those you can sometimes still see in more rural, less "developed" parts of Lylat.

"All questions will now be asked via this board. Each time you answer, the next question will be flipped up. You know how loud my sipping was; that will be somewhere in the neighborhood. However, if you choose to remain silent, I will increase your sound isolation to stage 2. It will make your own breathing sound like a heavy metal concert without hearing protection. You can only imagine what stage 3 will hold for you. Some people have even told me, their own thoughts were deafening already."

Then Maxwell feels his shirt being lifted and then a sharp prick in his lower left back.

"We will keep you alive in the meantime, of course. You are no use to us dead. Talk or be silent; we will get our answer. Good day."

The microphone is turned off and the figure sighs. He would have rather it not come to this, but it must be done. He gave him every chance to come clean. And then, the moment something good and something unexpected was blurted out, he went all quiet. But there are ways to make one talk. There is no need to raise one's own voice, when the victim's voice in and of itself can act like an incapacitating weapon.

"Engage stage 1." he calls out again as he removes his cap from his head.

A small sign of respect to the poor man down below who is about to be ruined for life if he sticks to his principles. He puts his cap underneath his other arm and stays standing up, looking through the fake wall and down upon him as the walls around him change. The split-flap display gives its first question and already a scream is audible.

On the screen inside his cabin, he can see the heart rate, blood pressure and various other measurements of this Maxwell fellow. Raw data with all of the ups and downs. All he has to do is to stop the torture when his life signs become dangerously close to ceasing. Then let him recover and then continue. Until he tells them something useful.

And even if he still refused to talk… well, they can already read out various things with that simple injection. Imagine what one could do with a direct "personal integration" through an invasive procedure. The figure puts his arms behind his back and awaits what results will come in. He has a few more hours before he is required by his missus to join her in bed. And he will sleep like a baby.