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.

7. Episode 7: Aftermath

Phase 3

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Episode 7: Aftermath

1 - Not That Kind Of Aftercare

- Group Therapy

"Good morning everyone. Apologies for calling you all out of bed so early, but this was the only way to sneak Peter into this meeting without the croaking bastard interfering." the Major sighs as he sits at the head of the table, just like yesterday but now talking to people who still occasionally tend to drift off back to sleep.

He himself looks like he has missed several nights worth of sleep. But this is because he indeed did not get much as he had to tend to the leadership role he embraced when two individuals visited him.

"The reason is quite important. As I said yesterday, there's no shame in using our medical facilities. And I am very glad this was followed up very quickly. I shall leave the names of them out until they feel comfortable."

However, he does not have to wait long as Calamity raises her hand very slowly in the air. As she does, she looks around nervously to see what the responses of her teammates are. Obviously she does not mind Trevor or Kip's reaction; she already knows they are sympathetic. But one never knows for sure about the rest.

Patches gasps shocked as her first instinct is to practically climb over the table and give her friend a big hug but she remains seated for now to let it pan out. Phantom falls silent in disbelief as now her behavior displayed in the cave makes so much more sense. The disbelief turns into sympathy slowly as he double-checks to see if the strip of RDX pills are still in his pocket.

"Thank you, Calamity. I really appreciate you coming forth like this and being so open about it. For everyone not in the know yet, Calamity will be starting today with an intensive and severe medical session. The details of which will not be revealed for privacy reasons but in essence, it will be a combination of intense and experimental therapies with heavy medication. She will not be available for at least 24 hours, after which she will come out as normal. The only thing changed would be the suppressed ability to feel that trauma. This is a temporary solution first and foremost! And it will require her to rest more often than the rest of you. But nothing else about her personality will change." the Major explains in no uncertain terms.

The rest fall silent as the only thing they can hear is the stammered breathing of Calamity as she tries her best not to burst into tears from a nasty emotional cocktail of nervousness and horrific visions. Supported on either side by her fiancée and her Militia friend before she womans up and dries away her tears.

"I'm here for you, Cal." Patches mouths to her, which she really appreciates.

"It's very tough indeed." the Lieutenant then speaks, who himself does not look all to awake either.

"I think I speak for everyone that we wish you nothing but good fortune during your treatment. I must however also address the other person in the room. Much like with the Major, I offered myself up to be a contact point as well. Less vocally so but I have always felt that having multiple access points is beneficial." he explains calmly before he gestures with an open-palmed hand to the arctic fox in the room.

"As proven by the fact that Phantom himself came to me for the exact same reason Calamity did."

All faces now turn to the arctic fox, who is clearly not used to having the limelight being shone on him as he awkwardly waves before trying to withdraw his head into his torso. And also feels a certain pressure to cry as well, although he cannot do so on command. He now regrets giving the Lieutenant permission to mention him during the meeting.

Patches sitting next to him is rather moved by him admitting this so openly. She would have expected him to pretend to be bigger than he really is. Feign that he is unbreakable and that he does not need anyone's help. Instead, he takes it on the chin which is a positive development in her eyes.

From across the table, Calamity is looking right at him. Trying to determine if he is trying to steal her "thunder". But even in this emotional state, she can see the cracks in his attitude and in his eyes. Something she saw with herself when she was looking in the mirror after waking up. To clean her face up before visiting the Major with Trevor. She does not know whether to glare or avert her gaze however.

"No need to be ashamed, my man. It took a lot of bravery to look for help and it suits this new incarnation of yourself. Phantom's treatment will not be as severe as Calamity but it is necessary regardless. He has been prescribed RDX and will be taking regular sessions with Dr. Nicholson. The schedule will only be known to him and he will share it if he feels inclined to do so." the blue bird finishes.

In response, Trevor beckons over to Phantom before reaching out over the table with a clenched fist so he can give his friend a fist bump.

"I got you." he mouths to him while doing so before tending to Calamity again.

"And finally, those who are not in need of more… eccentric treatments but simply wish to have an honest or relatable conversation about this horrible mental sickness, I'm also available for that for as long as I'm allowed to." Peter then brings in, as the "softcore" approach to tending to smaller mental scars.

For those already hardened, which is clearly appreciated by those addressed, even to those he did not directly talk about. After which, the Major states that everyone will have plenty of time to do whatever as the brass' bureaucracy will take some time to analyze all the gathered evidence and approve for the continuation of the operation. Which is perfect because then everyone can recover at their own pace. All he requires is to remain mobile in case they are needed.

Then he asks if there are any questions. And when there are none, he orders everyone back to bed. As well as not to forget that they are never alone.

As the meeting is over, Patches runs over to do exactly what she planned to do before with the exception of vaulting the table. And Kip gladly joins in. Trevor excuses himself from the heap of feminine hugging to thank the three chairmen of this meeting as well as sit down next to Phantom to give him some more direct support. Which the arctic fox gladly takes.

After some time, all leave the room and return to bed. Calamity requested Trevor to stay with him for the night and he did not decline. Patches, in an unexpected turn of events asks Phantom if he wanted to sleep in her room for the night. On a different bed of course but in that case at least he would not be sleeping alone or with just an extension of himself like PAL.

The offer makes him fall silent. He tries to utter something but is flabbergasted. Then PAL decouples and floats next to him. The machine intends to speak for him before Phantom regains himself just in time.

"T-thank you, Ashley… but uhm… I'll be alright. Thank you for offering though."

"No problem. See you at breakfast?"

"S-sure…"

She then smiles and walks away, back to her room. That is before she spots Damian and instead on a whim decides to jump into his arms and join him in his bed instead. PAL then recouples and detects that Phantom's heart rate has increased. Which makes him emit a green light.

"I can hear you chuckling PAL, it's uncanny. Cut it out."

But PAL does not stop as the two return back to their room and the base of Nova 7 returns to the silence of the night.

- The Ones Left Behind

Fecklessly flicking his breakfast with a reusable plastic fork while having his head held in his hand as he stares just past the plate. That is an accurate description of Trevor and his mood. Just a few minutes before he had to drop off his fiancée at the medical bay so she could receive that treatment. Of course, he is nothing but supportive. This does not mean he feels any better or any less worried about it. It is a radical treatment and still somewhat experimental. He trusts the professionals in what they are doing but he will not be able to shake the worry until she is back in his arms. And that will take another 23 hours and 50 minutes. Well, 49 now but that is a detail.

Then there is also Phantom, who is not with him either. Because of the RDX taken, he overslept his early appointment with Dr. Nicholson and had to rush to catch up with it. Why did he not tell him that actual RDX makes you fall asleep faster and also deeper? What kind of almost-medic is he? Nevermind what kind of friend? In terms of the treatment, it is tame compared to what Calamity is going through so he is not worried about that.

This lovely combination makes him a "joy" to be around as his mind thinks about nothing and everything at the same time. A pulsating, thick gray mass of a million words and thoughts but it has no ability to speak or emote.

The two others at the table witness this depressing factor in the room and sympathize with him. Patches can already see herself in that exact position in case her lovebird Damian had to go through something similar. She would likely feel down in the same way. Kip does not have any significant other by choice but this does not mean she feels any less compassion for his predicament.

However, because she is not in the same boat as the other two halves of a couple, she is able to think about a solution to the problem rather than wallow in the suds of sadness. To bring it in a more humorous way, she reaches over and taps Trevor on the shoulder but on the side she is not on. Upon touching however, a shiver can be felt. Almost like it is a defense mechanism. She pulls away right away, a little worried that she did something wrong.

"Sorry, I didn't expect you to respond like that."

"Hm… no, it's-it's alright Kip. Thanks for shaking me awake." Trevor mumbles coherently enough to understand.

"What's up?"

"Well, I thought because we are still around, who said that we aren't allowed to heal ourselves?"

"You mean like with Peter?" Patches asks.

"Not really, but he could come too. What I meant, was something alternative. No therapy, no medication but instead healing through heat, touch, sound and smell. There's a beauty salon type building not ten kilometers from here. Saunas, massages, swimming pools, steam shower rooms, grooming stations… the whole shabang!"

Trevor is silent for a moment but then turns to look at her. And with a slightly choked up but very enthusiastic tone repeats just one word: "Massages?"

"Oh oh! Do they do nails too? I kinda chipped one crawling through those narrow vents yesterday." Patches asks all excited.

"They do! Why do you think I suggested going there?" Kip chuckles before both ladies look at Trevor.

"What do you say, Sarge?"

Seeing those two smile and be all full of excitement, his original partners in the field, he cannot do anything other than smile back as that gray mass gains some color and deflates. Then he orders Nova 7 to relax and get them over there as soon as possible. Right away, the effective, oiled cogs of the machine start turning. Kip instantly books an all-inclusive treatment for right now and Patches arranges a ride over there.

Within fifteen minutes, they are dressed in civilian clothing and the doors of their ride close almost at the exact same time so that they can be underway to the location. During the ride, Trevor asks what this all-inclusive treatment actually entails but Kip keeps her lips sealed. That is a surprise. She only promises it will be an experience and that they will come back completely refreshed and feeling alive again. No expenses will be spared.

When they arrive, they find that the building is modeled after an ancient temple but a lot more colorful. With accents of bright white, blue, green and some turquoise thrown in there. It is also a massive compound with a big garden in the back. Likely to make those in there feel one with nature and totally zen.

After checking in, they are first put into a locker room. Where, just like pretty much everywhere in the military and other aspects of life, they are mixed. Again, with at least some decency to cover up the important bits. For those needing more privacy, there are more private changing rooms. Because of the arrangement, they get access to the special lockers, reserved only for those who paid top buck for their experience. Inside, is a set of big, fluffy towels with a clip to hold it while one has it around their waist for example.

Once they are done, they are introduced to their guide for the introductory portion. So they can be guided to the showers. Everyone should be clean to a certain degree here to keep hygiene levels up. But the experience already starts here as these showers are special. Their first setting is a simple massaging stream coming from the showerhead hanging overhead. The second setting ups the ante by introducing the wall-mounted shower heads to blast the occupant with multiple massaging beams aimed for the upper and lower torso area. And they adjust for height and movement. The third and final setting is a relaxing, steamy mist along with a scent of their choosing.

When the three come out, looking a lot better already, their guide leads them to the middle of the complex. Which is a large circular room with various activities for them to enjoy. It is packed with other people but it is surprisingly quiet as all conversation is to be kept at a low volume.

In the middle of the room is a big pool. Surrounding that are several jacuzzi's. Around those are a few walls to separate that area from the more intimate parts, like full-body massages, acupuncture or hot stone.

Splitting off from the circle are three hallways. The one straight ahead leads to the restaurant where cold and hot food is served. Across from that and obviously seperated from direct view are the saunas. As being nude in there is allowed if all occupants are okay with it. It is recommended to use the sauna right after having received a massage but they are free to do as they please. One of the rewards for choosing the most expensive package.

The left hallway leads to grooming and nail care stations. They even have barber services should it be needed. And the right hallway leads into the garden and also a private and more specialized massage room especially for the highest payers.

Being covered up by the provided towel is a necessity at all times with the exception being the sauna. Swimming is to be done in one's underwear. Failure to comply with these rules will have you thrown out after two warnings. Essentially, enjoy yourself but do not act like a jerk.

After that, the guide leaves the three to do whatever they want. They huddle together to discuss their game plan: first they are going to swim about or relax in the bubbles, then get a massage before taking charge of the sauna. After that, grab something to eat if they are hungry and then split up to do whatever the other would like to do. With the plan made, they make their way to the water and start their journey of relaxation and self-healing.

BONUS: Well Earned Downtime

Trevor is traversing the water like a heat-seeking missile aimlessly looking for its target. Fast but only going in circles. It almost makes him feel like a fish stuck in a fish bowl. This is watched by the two ladies looking over the edge of the shared jacuzzi. They are muttering and gossiping amongst themselves.

He wonders if they are talking about him. While at the same time thinking if that is not very egotistical of him to assume that. He casts the thought aside and dives under to explore down there. Although he was not far off when it came to the two ladies, who were wondering how he was holding up. When it was clear he was not wallowing in worry like he was before, both are relieved and return to their own relaxation. Patches turns up the bubbles just a little more and lets her head hang back. Letting her worries flow away as well as the aromatic scents provided with the bubbles make her feel like she is in a flowery paradise.

The next stage is the massages. From top to bottom they each get a proper, relaxing massage. Trevor and Patches go for the softer touch whereas Kip likes it a bit rougher. A gentle tune is played for each of them thanks to complimentary wireless earbuds. They keep occasional eye contact but most of the time not really as Trevor is pretty much asleep at this point.

This allows Patches to be a little cheeky; when her male masseur, a brick house like Damian is, pauses to oil up his hands, she suggests to the roo that hers is hotter than Kip's. And if she would perhaps like to switch because she is 100% sure that this guy is more the roo's type. Kip fusses jokingly, telling her to keep her loins under control. Whereupon Patches responds by pretending to be shocked and stating that she was only looking out for her and her needs.

"Ladies, please not while I'm around will ya?" Trevor grumbles half-asleep.

"Sorry, Sir." they apologize in unison but then chuckling as they hear him groan in response.

They are shushed when the massages continue. Way too soon however, their allotted time has run out. And sadly they do not get another round as other people are waiting. So the three walk towards the saunas. They find one that is completely empty and decide to enter it and take it for themselves, locking the door. Which Trevor calls a successful operation.

Water is poured over the heated rocks and a pleasant steam fills the room with a significant hissing noise that reminds of an old-school factory whistle but less ear grating. There is a quiet comradery in the air as they are together and comfortable together.

Which is somewhat tested when it comes too hot for Patches. She asks full of confidence, likely because the heat is getting to her or because she really feels that comfortable with them, if they mind if she just went full birthday suit. Trevor and Kip look at each other before shrugging. Content that they do not care, Patches dispatches the towels and her underwear and lets everything hang free with a big sigh.

"This is life, isn't it?" Trevor then comments after some time of silence.

"I know what you mean." Kip answers.

"But at the same time, this is something a bit more special."

"How do you mean?" Patches asks.

"After all, we are the originals. I have nothing against the rest… okay, Phantom a little bit perhaps, but we are the first. Without us, none of this would have happened."

Kip brings up a good point to Trevor.

"I think I get where you're going with this. Because before Corneria City, we didn't know of each other's existence."

"Corneria is a big planet after all, nevermind Lylat's size." Patches brings up.

"Regardless, if it weren't for those damn Aparoids, we wouldn't have been here. No Nova 7, no Tacker Field. Who knows if we'd still be alive? But it was almost like it was meant to be. Remember how we met, Kip?"

"Hmhm! That jeep wasn't it? You hitched a ride on my roof. I was about to shake him off but we kinda had a big rolling Aparoid to deal with."

"Exactly. We didn't go along at all, but we came to trust each other so much. Over the course of like… what? A day?"

"More like two." Kip corrects.

"Oh yeah, we had that sleepover. In all honesty, it didn't feel like just a day. Or even two. It felt like months which crept very slowly forth. Which was only better because it allowed the relationship to grow."

Trevor continues on positively while mostly looking at Patches. Not (just) because she is nude, but he wants to emphasize it to her in particular. Seeing him talk like that about their interactions and bond just makes Kip's heart beat that much faster.

"And then there was that tunnel collapse, which felt like years of just… dust, darkness and silence. Until I somehow found the will to wake back up and pick where I left off."

"Which is where you met me." Patches brings up.

"Yup. Come to think of it, I have had a similar story with you as I had with Kip. Coincidentally enough. First meeting was tough, it got better over time and was pretty much cemented at the end of day one. Again, it felt like months more than just another day or two. Heh, I must have been extremely lucky to strike gold twice in the span of a few days. And then you two met."

"And hit it off right away." Kip proudly states.

"I must admit; I was pretty nervous meeting you." Patches chuckles.

"No way. Wasn't it you who called out to me?"

"I was genuinely surprised my voice didn't crack when I called out. But I have never regretted it since. Especially not when I saw you two just hug it out. I made the right choice for sure."

"Awwww, thank you babe." Kip responds both heartfelt and overly theatrical.

"No problem, girlfriend." Patches retorts with a stuck-out tongue.

"Ladies, it's already hot enough in here; no need to turn it up further." Trevor intervenes sarcastically, which succeeds in stopping absolutely nothing.

Whereupon Patches tosses one of her towels to Kip and then they together bombard Trevor for being a spoilsport. To which he calls "Friendly fire!", "Treason!" and "Mutiny!". There is only one way to put down such an overt coup attempt. He pulls out of his finger gun and shoots the instigators. Who one by one, after a proper "bang", falls dead. Which one could clearly see from the fact that they have their tongues sticking out.

After the rebellion is gruesomely put down, the culprits and the loyalist both burst out laughing. Peace is quickly established and they are comrades in arms once more. When the laughter dies down, Trevor brings up something.

"But seriously, despite the commonalities between our meetings, I think we have developed a different but equally strong relationship. For example, Patch was just a cop before. And now look at her; a soldier with the rank of Specialist. If it wasn't for her experience, her bravery and persistence, she would not have been here. Proud and professional. And above all, my trusted second-in-command."

Patches in response makes fist and thumps it over her heart twice before giving a quick salute.

"And when it comes to me and Kip, it's not the same but that does not matter. A free spirit through and through but beyond loyal. Enough so to put aside her thriving mercenary career to play fair with the good guys while at the same time gaining valuable experience to further that exact career."

"Exactly right!" Kip proclaims with a cheeky wink.

"I wouldn't trade it in for anything. Us, the original three. Pretty sure that as long as we are together, the core of this team will never die."

"Shall we toast on that?" is Patches' subtle and sneaky way to state that she should probably have a drink and get out of this hotbox.

Not a bad idea, as long as she covers herself up again. Patches answers not to sweat it and with that final pun, the team exits the sauna and goes for that drink. Non-alcoholic, but only because they do not serve anything else. A toast is given to Nova 7, unpronounced of course as secrecy is still needed.

After which, the team separates to do whatever they want. Kip chooses to visit the grooming station as she craves the same intense sleepiness Trevor had during the massages. Not that the massage was bad in any way, it is that grooming is just so much better. And not long into the session, just by brushing, she is already in a different universe.

Patches, still not fully cooled off, chooses to dive into the pool and pretty much float purposelessly. She closes her eyes and lets herself be. She exhales and mentally cleanses all the bad things from her mind. But she does not let any good thoughts in either; she will relish in the gray nothing for a while.

Trevor meanwhile has gone outside into that garden. Solar is shining brightly outside, reflecting somewhat off the white gravel path. The garden is filled with healthy green and blooming flowers of a variety of colors. Matching the ones visible in the rainbow created by a turned on sprinkler. He finds a nice patch of unoccupied grass and lies down. Using the size of the towel to his advantage, he covers his eyes to protect them from the sun so he can take a nap while enjoying the calm.

Time passes on and soon enough the urge to do more returns to all three. Kip does not have to go far as the nail salon is just across from the grooming station. And it seems that Patches had the same idea. After complimenting on how good Kip looks after her grooming session, the two friends have their nails done together.

As they are treated to an introductory hand massage, they look forward to adding some femininity to their looks. Even if it will be temporary, considering their work. Then one of the female workers overhears this and asks what they do that is so bad that they cannot enjoy their nails properly. Their neutral answer is "military". And for that, the lady working has a remedy. Like it was daily business, she grabs a toolkit with the words "Tough as Nails" written on it.

"You'll need a tank to drive over these in order to break them." she assures.

And Patches and Kip agree to take her up on her offer. After all, it is all-inclusive so they already paid for it. Might as well enjoy it. While they are enjoying their treatment, Trevor enters and ready for a grooming session himself along with a trim. Although ready is subjective, as it looks like he only just woke up from an intense slumber. And judging by the green coloration on his towel and his back, he took the saying "touch grass" a little too seriously. The grooming session will take care of that however.

While Trevor gets his treatment, the two ladies hitch a plan. Once Trevor is done, they will stand near the entrance blocking his way out. Then they will show him their nails, await the compliment and then subtly force him into the chair they came out of. And given that Trevor is not a fan of overly feminine things, it should be fun to watch him struggle a little before finally giving in. It is an upside for them that they know him so well: social pressure gets to him.

Their plan is set in motion. The moment Trevor is done, he is held up. "Forced" to compliment their nails because the quality is honestly really good. Then Kip suggests oh so delicately suggests that he should try it too. His facial expression turns more sour and doubtful, not wanting to hurt their feelings but it is just not for him. However, they continue to push him over the edge and before he knows it, he is in the chair getting his nails done against his will. Which does not cease to be a source of humor for the two ladies standing behind him.

"I swear, you two are going to get it when we get back." Trevor states between gritted teeth.

Patches' first reaction is to respond in a snappy way but considering the possible reaction some people around her might have to a spicy comment she refrains from it for now.

- Continuation: The Ones Left Behind

Time however does not stop, not even for fun and relaxation. Their all-inclusive treatment sadly had a time limit and they have reached it. Which might be for the best as it is nearly time for dinner. And whereas they do serve food here too, at least it is free back at Tacker.

"Aah! This was needed." Trevor exhales as he has own clothes back on.

"Yeah, this was a good idea, Kip." Patches states as she puts her pants back on.

"I occasionally have some good ones. But I'm sure your ideas would've been equally good." Kip answers, ever so humble.

"Pfft! What are you spouting? I was running on nothing but fumes. I was glad you had anything to keep myself going. I really appreciate that, Kip. I won't forget this."

She did not expect to hear that but she smiles warmly in response.

"No worries, I won't hold that against you… probably." she giggles at the end.

Once they are all dressed up, they return their keys and bid their farewell to the receptionist. Their ride back is already waiting for them. Their hope being that traffic will not be too severe as rush hour is approaching. But with their renewed energy, relaxed muscles, tended to fur, trimmed hair and above all bulletproof nails, a traffic jam will be the least of their worries.

2 - Interview with [...]

Overjoyed. That is pretty close to how Trevor feels as the door to the doctor's office opens. The doctor herself had already stepped out before but allowed Calamity to do it at her own pace. And after some time, she passes through the door frame. She looks healthy if quite tired and in need of a hug. Which she receives right away from her fiancée.

All of the worry the massages had not removed, seeps away the longer he holds her. He is both relieved and proud of her; the operation must not have been easy. The doctor complimented her for her conduct and that the treatment worked very well on her.

They planned for a whole 24 hours, but in the end only needed nineteen. One of the difficulties she mentioned was that some of the people who go into this treatment are still mentally resistant to it. They have not opened themselves up for recovery or even truly admitted that they had a problem.

"But not Calamity..." the doctor said.

"She was fully open to becoming better and complied with all instructions. No matter how hard it was. And now she is ready for action again. However, I warn you beforehand; she has to take her medicine to keep the treatment working all the way through. And they are strong, meaning that after taking her one might mistake her for being dead-drunk. So have her take it somewhere safe. And also, I must advise against putting her on the firing line right away. Let it sink in for the rest of the night and the day after."

She in particular pointed to the Major when she said that, which the hound took on the chin. Before leaning over to Damian and whispering that his ex should really get over the break-up. However, that is all of secondary importance now as Calamity is now back with the team.

After Trevor had his moment with her, Patches and Kip were next to hug their dog girl-friend. They were just as worried as Trevor was and they can finally leave that behind them. Their Boogeywoman is back and that calls for celebration. Tomorrow that is, right now everyone is longing for the siren call of their own beds as Solar is almost coming up again. And none have slept in the meantime.

When they are done cuddling up to her, the Major and the Lieutenant approach her. In their interaction, the Major states that he is happy and relieved about her recovery as well. And that no, he will not send her to the front right away. After all, the next operation is still awaiting approval. To which the Lieutenant plays the straight man and cuts through the Major's sarcasm. But Calamity was not phased by it; she is still herself after all. Nothing about her personality has changed. The only thing the procedure did for herself was to give her the ability to suppress those awful visions and thoughts. If they are not there, she will not be affected by them.

Regardless of that, the Lieutenant emphasizes that this is temporary and after this, she should go into the same type of therapy as Phantom is in currently.

"Speaking of which, Phantom did complete his first session today with Dr. Nicholson. And the results are promising."

Damian brought this up to illustrate that it works for someone like Phantom. But he did not expect the bitter suspicion from Calamity's response.

"Is that so? Hm."

Then she walks past the Lieutenant and towards the arctic fox. Who had come along but remained seated until now. Whether it was to wait his turn or because he did not feel any need to claim his turn. Whatever his reasons, she still comes closer. He stands up from his seated position but like a deer caught in the headlights, freezes in place. Most likely because she was standing right in front of him faster than he expected. And she does not look very pleased with his presence here. It is a mixture of confusion and sternness he can read from her face. It seems like she is about to spit on his face at any moment now.

"So, it seems you really are working on yourself. Not just trying to spite me." she says, herself quite spitefully.

"I've had a lot of time to think about a few things while I was in there. How much of a sniveling, small-minded, big-mouthed scumbag you are. How you never even apologized to me for all you did to Trevor and me. How… eager I was to see your face smeared over the pavement after I'd have Trevor convinced to let me throw your ass out, now that you and Patches made up somewhat..."

He can feel that rage and passion well up and radiate from inside her. A punch to the face is now more likely than being spat in the face so he mentally braces himself as he tries not to shiver.

"And yet, I realized something: firstly, that you did apologize. And secondly, we are in the same boat. What we saw in there, is something that affected you too. I know how bad that… this… feels. So in that regard, we suffer together. I will never like you but I don't wish this upon you."

Phantom does not have a lot of time to process what he just heard before Calamity wraps him in her arms. His first response is to sputter, like he was trying to escape the coiling of a constrictor snake. But when he realizes that she is not trying to strangle him, he very carefully returns the favor.

The hug may have lasted for maybe a few seconds but in his perception it was quite a lot longer. And as it breaks apart, he has to really try not to blush like a fool. She whispers "Good luck." to him before she returns to Trevor's side. This was her way of a peace treaty between them. They may never become true friends but at the very least neighbors that can live side-by-side. Which is better than what he had previously. And then that shiver runs from the top to the very coccyx of his body.

Everyone else then leaves for bed, but the Lieutenant stays behind. He extends his hand to the arctic fox and says that he did well. That without realizing, the positivity he spread for the purpose of his own recovery also resonated with those not wanting to associate with him. And that is commendable. The two shake hands and then separate. For their bed calls them as well.

- Calamity

Together with her team sitting at lunch. Now that is something she was forward to. They have missed breakfast because of a late night last night, but that is alright. They will make up for lost time. As today will be a day of doing nothing, at least nothing forced. They are at the very least expected to keep up their physique but they are excluded from anything else. Unless it is an emergency obviously.

While Calamity is enjoying their presence, she is mainly focused on the food. During that whole procedure she was not allowed to have any caloric intake and after it she was too tired. But now both are in the past and her stomach was crying out for sustenance. With the Major's compliments, the first round is on him. Anything after that comes out of their own wallets. Those terms were agreeable and soon enough they went ham. Making sure to take as much as possible during that first round.

However, she is also curious what the "non-crazies" had been doing while she was having her brains scrambled and Phantom was spilling his guts in front of poor ol' Dr. Nicholson. If one thing is clear, she still has her sense of Trevor-inspired humor. Which would be a detriment in most cases, but for now it is accepted.

"Well, we sane people went to release our demons by paying other people to knead, groom, brush, steam and even drown away our sorrows. It was really good." Trevor answers before taking a bite out of some nearby bread.

"My idea." Kip brings up.

"I saw how down your absence made us, especially our Sarge-y here. And before you say anything, yes he was also worried about you, Phantom."

To which the arctic fox looks up with perked ears and a caught expression on his face. He was not paying attention at all; too busy trying to pull some meat from a particularly resistant bone. But he goes along with it before continuing, which triggers a few giggles.

"So, we went out and had a good day to ourselves. I mean look at these champions!" Patches states, still as excited as she was yesterday.

She shows them to Calamity who observes them with awe like she was looking at the stars of the night sky. Whereupon Kip shows hers and indirectly forces Trevor's hand as well. He shows them in a more flamboyant way, borderline portraying a stereotypical overly feminine gay person.

"You guys gotta take me to that salon sometime then!" Calamity says now very interested.

"I bet Nelson would like to come along too. I mean, if that place is so good it makes Trevor think about something as girly as nail polish, that little gerbil will absolutely adore it."

"Insinuating something there, you crazy lady?" is then heard from the entrance to the cantina, where all heads of Nova 7 turn to.

There stands Nelson, not even trying to look anything but eccentric with his hand on his hip before he comes strolling over like a model walking over the catwalk at the most prestigious fashion show. Before he inevitably trips over his own feet but still manages to maintain his balance.

"Gosh, I really thought that would go well" he sighs while adjusting his haircut back into its proper model.

"I should practice more… maybe get a bit thinner. I mean I got love-handles showing for Pete's sake! It will not do… unless. Hmmm… I dunno, what do the boys think?" he asks after a lot of going back and forth with himself about it.

Whereupon Phantom out of nowhere, out of left field, just suddenly catcalls him by whistling. When the rest realizes what has just happened, Patches instantly goes into correction mode and readies a right old slap to bring the fox back into alignment. And it will not be the kind she gives to Trevor.

However Nelson mentions he does not mind. He is happy to know that there are some around who can appreciate true beauty. But he did not come here to fish for compliments.

"I lie, maybe a little. But I came here to warn the two Militia girls: Lieutenant-Colonel Rook is on the warpath. He wants to see both of you for… evaluation sessions. He asked me if I knew where you were and I said no of course. Then he asked me to forward the request to you in case I did see you. In other words: I have never seen you, I don't know you are here and in fact, I have never known you. Therefore I say; goodbye, strangers." he tells with a wink before blowing a cheeky kiss to Phantom.

Which the fox oddly accepts and even shoots one back. Nelson gasps theatrically in response, holding his hand before his mouth and giving some fluttery eyes before giving up the charade and chortles while walking away. Once he is out, the rest turns to Phantom who is unaware of any wrongdoing on his end.

"What was that, buddy? Since when are you so… you?" Trevor asks, surprised but positively so.

"Call it progress." he boasts humbly.

"I can see that. But next time, warn us first. The two ladies sitting on either side of you were ready to make mincemeat out of you."

"Oh… sure. Sorry. At least Nelson took it well."

"Nelson takes anything well." Kip says, not realizing the potential double entendre she just created for those with a naughtier mind until it is too late.

Hilarity ensues and the team continues on with their lunch. It is soon over however and the team splits apart to do their own thing. And while Calamity is walking through the hallways on her way back to her room, she suddenly feels a chill run over her back. And she could swear the lights above her started to flicker. At that moment a cold-blooded amphibian comes around the corner. Looking like quite the slimy creep. The description given to him does not do him justice; he looks much worse.

"Ah, Miss Calamity. I was hoping to bump into you at some point. I regret that I could not be there last night to see you were well. I sensed that my presence there would cause some controversy. I am aware you have your day off and I respect that, however I have my duties. One of which includes keeping tabs on MilCiv personnel. Including Militia. Now, I have a proposal. You do this quick interview with me and that will be all you will hear from me."

While he is talking, she is trying to subtly walk back but he goes along with that too. Making her already feel cornered despite being far away from one. He gives her pretty much no choice as he will haggle her later on about it. In a sense, he is right. If she does the interview now, it is over and done with.

"Fine…" she sighs.

"Just a few questions then. And then please leave me alone, I got a headache coming up."

Before she knows it, she is in one of the interrogation rooms that the base has. Which is not the one she dropped off their guest from before but then again these rooms are reserved for less severe cases. Trespassers and alike. Therefore it almost feels like she should be questioning him.

As the shovel-faced toad takes his seat, he makes sure to slide his hand through his hair before he cleans it right off. Then, from his brown leather file bag, he fetches a pair of really big and spread out glasses. To adjust for the position of his eyes of course but that does not help them not look any less goofy.

Once those ridiculous spectacles are on, does he fetch out a clipboard which does not contain any paper but instead it has a built-in touch screen. Why anyone would need something that is both useless and outdated is beyond her. It even has a stylus pen that slides out from the top of the frame.

He places the clipboard on the table in front of him, making sure to align it properly so it is horizontally level with the edge of the table. Then he grabs an audio recorder and puts it on the table as well but to his right and in between the two of them. Only once he is satisfied, does he turn the recorder on.

"This is Lieutenant-Colonel Weylon Rook, head of MilCiv. According to protocol, this is the introductory interview of Militia… callsign 7-4. The purpose of this interview is to judge how well MilCiv personnel are integrated into their units. For the sake of state secrecy and interspatial safety, the name of this unit will be left out."

At the very least Calamity is glad this unsightly frog is following the rules. Which at the same aggravates her because then she could have reported him. Not before kicking him down of course.

"Let's start. 7-4, you have been with this unit for about eight months. How do you feel the integration went?"

"I feel like it went well. Very well. It wasn't my first choice but I have grown to love it. We work together well as a team, we can joke around and we can be very open about our problems. And I feel respected by everyone." she answers with a very corporate, neutral tone.

"That is good to hear. No one has given you trouble for your Militia or MilCiv status?"

"None." she lies, keeping the earliest incident with Phantom omitted.

What the wart does not know, cannot be used as ammunition to fire right back at Nova 7.

"Nothing from your superiors either?"

She gets the idea he is fishing for something that is not there. At the very least he should use better bait.

"Both the Major and the Lieutenant are satisfied with me and my performance." is her neutral response.

"About that, I was wondering why you all are calling them by their ranks as if that is meant to mean something. Could you elaborate?"

"No particular reason. They have earned their titles and positions. I assume that that had something to do with it."

It is a good thing that Rook is so busy with trying to look for something that is not there, that he does not hear the verbal dig she just dealt to him.

"I see…" he says unimpressed as he twiddles with the pen.

"Let us continue to the next question then. Why did you become a Militia instead of a regular soldier?"

"I believe you can find that answer in my files. I don't feel repeating it would be beneficial, do you?" Calamity retorts, a little more snappy.

"No, I suppose not."

She could swear she saw the corner of his mouth rise for a moment into a sickening grin after he said that.

"Was it because of 7-1?"

Calamity's eyelid twitches when her brain translates the callsign to Trevor.

"I have my reasons. As much as you have. Again, I refer to my file for a clear answer to that question."

She tries to sound as disinterested as possible but his constant digging is getting to her. She can feel it bubbling up inside her. And his annoying stare… it is almost like he is looking right through her and can see it boiling.

"No problem. I understand why you do not feel like talking about this. You distrust me. Likely based on the previous interactions between me, the Major and 7-1. Let me assure you that I want what is best for MilCiv. And what is best for MilCiv, is best for the Army." he states heartfelt.

Sadly the heart felt in this situation sits within the blackened ribcage of a long dead corpse walking. She believes him as far as she can throw him. Which is not far because she would not even try to touch him with bare hands. So she folds her arms.

"But please do understand that MilCiv's purpose is also to keep you out of trouble. For the sake of both organizations. I understand that you care very little about the public opinion, but too big of an outcry will result in even harsher consequences."

"I understand. But in turn you should also understand that we do what we do best. I'm not sure of how much you are aware of, but if we are not allowed to operate as a complete five person team, then I don't think "harsh" will be sufficient." she retorts with more passion.

"Ah yes, I read the report. Which was more censored than usual so I had a hunch already. I doubt that it will be that dangerous, don't you?"

She cannot believe what she hears. This guy is a complete pencil pushing dimwit. He should have gone into politics. He is certainly slimy enough to squeeze through difficult subjects and problems.

"That is your opinion. But there was a reason I required specialized care."

"I suppose everyone has their breaking point. However, I do wonder why you are in the team if you cannot handle some cruelty?" he tacitly throws at her.

That is enough. She was willing to tolerate it up to a certain degree that he was a total buffoon, but this just shows that he is out to get a rise out of her. Or worse; complete ignorance of reality. An OCD and cleanliness freak would likely die from a heart attack if he were there. The smell, sound and the sight of those horrific machines and the corpses would be the killer.

She grits her teeth but resists herself from lashing out. Although one more step would have been enough. Then she exhales, puts her hands on the table and stands up from her chair.

"This interview is over. I'm certain you can work with the answers provided. If you require more, please consult my files. Good day, Sir."

Calamity turns the other cheek and walks away to the door. Rook watches this, in mild confusion that turns into amusement. He flips the clipboard over and puts it screen-down on the table and calls her back with a smug grin.

"Militia Calamity, come back here this instant. This interview is not done yet."

But she is not listening and not answering either as her hand grabs the door knob.

"If you do not return to your position, I will have to forward this interview as a failure to the General of the Army. I do not think he will be so pleased by this display of disobedience from a Militia."

He could not have sounded more insulting if he tried. The venom, the hate but mainly the belittling he accused her friends and superiors of using against her being on full display here. This guy does not care about Nova 7 or those under him. He only cares about his vision, his world. And it is becoming more and more clear that his world is one where Nova 7 at the very least no longer has access to Militia.

"Then I would advise the General to review the video and audio footage of this… interaction. And yes, we have cameras everywhere. Including in this very room. So if you try to intimidate me in any way… you failed. I will repeat what I said before: if you require more, please consult my files. Good day."

She opens the door and quickly passes through before slamming the door shut behind her. Her heart is racing, but not because she was scared. But because she was literally this close to snap that toad's back in half. And it would not have mattered how smily or how covered in warts he was. Now all she needs to do is warn Kip to stay away from this freak.

Back in the room, Rook sits flabbergasted before he puffs out and sinks into his chair. Then he turns to the upper left corner of the room and he can see a security camera. With the red light on. And it slowly turns to him. That response was not automatic; someone with their hands on the controls did that. He will have to rethink his approach.

- Kip

And there she sits. In the same position as Calamity before her. How was he able to find her that quickly? Calamity had just messaged her to stay away from this freak and practically the moment she looked up, there he was. Unrequested and in her personal space. With a sinister grin he was trying to pass off as a genuine smile. One a non-hateful person would have, but she was not fooled.

But here she is. Better rip the bandage off right away. Must have been what Calamity was thinking but he managed to get under her skin regardless. She better be careful with this guy. Or rather, he better be careful with her…

After all the arrangements have been made, Rook presses the button on the recorder and starts with his standard introductions before turning to 7-3. He starts with the same question as he posed 7-4 before.

Kip clears her throat, blinks at the toad seated across from her, and manages to put up a light smile.

"I would say it has been a positive experience so far," she started, her voice measured yet pleasant.

"Naturally, throwing several individuals together into a team with such high stakes will have growing pains, but I feel comfortable with the communication my teammates share and believe they have earned my trust. Each mission has been an opportunity to learn more about my unit, and provide experience to improve going forward. I never expected my life to move into this direction. But every day, I like it just a little more."

Her answer is a lot more animated and genuine. She is not trying to hold back anything, which surprises him. He had expected even more resistance from her considering her previous employment and history.

"You were a mercenary before this, correct?"

Before Kip can answer, he holds a finger up in the air, signifying that he is not done just yet.

"I have heard of some kind of deal? That would allow you to remain a mercenary in some kind of capacity still. Despite being a Militia..."

He exhales with a hint of disrespectful exasperation.

"I cannot see how that would work very well. Could you elaborate? Why be so complicated? Why not accept A-status like your fellow Militia colleague? What was her name again... uhm..."

He snaps his fingers a few times, playing up the act that he forgot about her name already since she is just that unimportant.

"Calamity... yes, that is who that was. Why make it so complicated?"

Kip's ears twitch, clearly annoyed at the obvious disdain for mercenaries the toad has. But also how insufferable the act of making Calamity feel so unimportant that he would forget her name just like that.

"With all due respect, Sir, just because something is complicated, that does not automatically make it inferior. Nor does convenience automatically equate to the superior option." she says as she sits up more.

She makes sure that she measures every word before saying it, hiding her calculating mind behind a more sincere and gentle quality she gives to her non-verbal gestures.

"My life prior to my position as a militia is still important to me, and I am fortunate that those who asked me to join were very accepting of that. If I wished to sacrifice everything in my life to being a soldier for Corneria... I would have joined the military. But this option seemed more accommodating to me."

Rook attempts to speak but this time Kip holds him up.

"I'm not willing to be bound. Not now. Despite me liking this place and the security it brings, I would never willingly embrace it fully. And on that basis, 7-1 asked me to join up. And the Major agreed on the basis that 7-1 trusted in me."

There is a moment of silence between them as he writes down some notes, daring not to look up at her while he schemes his next question.

"So… 7-1 then." he starts, barely able to hide the venom dripping from his pouty lips.

"From what I heard and saw, you have several good relationships with your direct teammates. Even with your superiors. What I did notice in particular, is your... shall we say, affinity for 7-1. You two must have had some history before this. I read some reports but they are typically not telling the whole story."

Kip blinks at the mention of Trevor. Behind her chair, her tail even wags a bit, though it is a brief movement and could easily be mistaken for an idle twitch.

"Ah, the Sergeant? Well, of course," she acknowledges, her mind wandering to the history she shared with Trevor up to this point.

"I'm sure the reports summarize it succinctly enough. We met in the midst of the Aparoid invasion of Corneria City, and worked together to survive. From that experience, I came to respect him so much that when he asked me to join this team, it was not so difficult a decision. And so far, he has not let me down yet." Kip mused, with a brief smile.

"So you trust 7-1 a lot. And I can assume that trust is requited?"

"Yes. He'd go into the hellfire with me."

"Impressive. However, if the bond between you is so tight, if that trust is so blind between you two..."

He pauses for effect.

"... then why, and do please mind my manners. But why is 7-2 his closest companion then? The so-called "XO". Why aren't you 7-2?" he asks, leaning in somewhat as if he wants to come closer to stick the dagger in further.

Kip's eyes finally narrow at the toad across from her. If the obvious maliciousness behind his words was not enough, she finds the prodding downright rude. Her ears flick dangerously as she seems to lean away from Rook's forward motion, crossing her arms in front of her.

This is what she was expecting him to come with. It took him some time but in the end here he is. Trying to get to her. Make her jumpy, annoyed… angry. Anything bad he put into his report.

"Because… we don't have that type of relationship. It doesn't fit. Both in terms of character and in terms of occupation. We work together better if it is more… loose."

"It sounds to me like you wish it could be more. And I think you would've gotten it if you were more of a soldier. Like 7-2 is."

"Oh no, don't mistake the breaks I took in my explanation as a sign of exasperation. I was only trying to describe it properly. Look, 7-1 and 7-2 have their relationship. It is more order-focused and tightly knit with plenty of banter. It suits their profession as well. And I have my type of relationship with 7-1. Separate we are great, together we are immaculate. So I'm content with what I have. No, better yet, I consider myself fortunate to have met a man like 7-1. I'm glad I can consider him a friend. A partner."

Rook listens to her but can only manage to sniff at this. It was not what he was going for. He thought he had her there. Jealousy is a corrupting influence as it starts small but expands until it becomes overpowering. But it is wasted on the roo sitting before him.

"Alright…" he grumbles.

"But does that less personal, less tightly knit relationship not bother you? 7-1 has two loyal… females so to say, surrounding him 24/7. Both under his command in different ways, so to say. And there you are. More of an outsider… a fourth wheel if you will." he counters snidely, his head tilted slightly to the side.

"You see, from what I read in the reports, as you stated, it seems there is plenty of overlap between you and 7-2. Both very close to 7-1, bonded very quickly with him... I cannot help but wonder how your relationship with him would have looked like had you not been separated. Perhaps you could have been the Hero of the North."

His voice grows more intense as he continues on.

"You could have been Ms. Kip to his Mr. Bones. Yes, I know about those code-names. You could have been the one who destroyed the Aparoid Hybrid. You could have been the one who saved him from that rubble. You could have been... so much more to him." he ends very suggestively at the end, along with the smuggest smile he has put on yet.

Kip's facial expression does not change a whole lot as she waits for Rook to finish speaking, but it is impossible to ignore the fact that her eyes seem to grow darker and darker with every word that comes out of his mouth. By the time he finishes, leaving her with a smirk to punctuate, the look she is giving him is comparable to the clouds rolling in just before a hurricane.

He looks at her expectantly, almost with an innocent note, and in response, Kip's lip curls a little, and she growls. It is not a sound one would expect to come out of a kangaroo, but it is unmistakable.

"What, exactly, are you trying to suggest?" she asks, in a clipped voice.

"Do you think I'm so desperate for guns and glory that I wish I went on the mission 7-1 and 7-2 had to complete? It sounds like it was hell. I'm not so hard up for money or things to do as all that. And their accomplishments are to be celebrated, not envied. Or maybe you think I'm so desperate for attention that I pined for the Sergeant's company when we were separated? If I was concerned for him, it was because I was hoping he wasn't dead. It's not wrong to care about the welfare of your companions, after all."

She pauses for a moment, her ears pulled back like an irritated cat, expression stone cold and unamused.

"Or... do you think I'm such a needy slut for affection, that I would get jealous because the Sergeant interacts with other people? That I would fall so hard and be so desirous for his attention?"

Her words grow more and more dangerous as she speaks, and her tail flicks. She is clearly insulted.

"Don't imply such things, sir. It is both baseless, and disrespectful."

She pauses, taking advantage of the silence her words have caused. There are no regrets on her side. Perhaps she could have said some things better than others. Aside from that, she meant every word.

"Loyalty is what matters. That it's there. Not how it's expressed in day-to-day life. The fact that we aren't skin-to-skin all day doesn't matter. As at the end of the day, we can blindly rely on each other. Back to back without worrying about yourself or the other. If he calls for my aid, no matter if it's for his profession or for a personal matter, I'd come running. And he would do the same for me."

She can see his eyelid twitch. If he was de-aged by probably 40 or 50 years, he would be sitting here before her bawling and screaming like a toddler not getting their crisps in a very busy supermarket, completely embarrassing their parents. A lot of pettiness radiates from this ugly man when he does not get his way.

"Uhm... yes. I-I suppose you are right."

He tugs on his collar as it feels a lot warmer in here all of the sudden. He needs to get his facts straight again. He peeks at his notes, then to the audio recorder still spinning and recording before turning back to his notes. And there he reads his last straw to cling onto. He clears his throat and decides to go all out. What does he have to lose after all? He drops the clipboard, stares absently at Kip almost like he is looking right through her as his right hand reaches over and turns off the audio recorder. Then, very smooth and meticulous, does his hand return to him.

"I do not believe you." he states before taking off his glasses and carelessly tossing them on the table between them.

He then stands up and puts both hands on the table.

"I do not believe your words. Your lies, I do believe. Everything that came out of your mouth was nothing but nonsense. Let me tell you what I heard behind those fabrications. You are in it for the money. For the free, elite training. You could not possibly act any differently. You are a merc!" he bellows after being rather composed, if deprecating.

He calms down shortly after and sits back down into his chair.

"You are not a soldier. You will never be one. And you will never be treated like one. The treatment you are getting here? All theater. The moment you have your back turned, they will turn on you. Because they know. You might have convinced some of your prowess, of your angelic status as the "loyal mercenary"... but I see right through your charade. And those friends of yours? 7-1, 7-2 and even the Major? I will bring them down with you. They are compromised after all."

Once he has gotten it all out, and the tension hangs thick in the silence that follows, does Kip finally shift in her chair. She sits up straight, hands politely on her knees, and tilts her head at Rook with a raised eyebrow. Slowly, a smile blossoms on her face.

"Well…" she muses, softly.

"... there it is. The Lieutenant-Colonel finally shows his true colors."

She giggles a little, before she levels her intense gaze at the toad. There is amusement in her eyes, but also a hint of something... predatory. Rook has her full attention.

"I have to say, that's probably the nicest thing you've done for me since we've met. Being so honest, I mean. I really prefer when people don't insult my intelligence," Kip continues, still sounding conversational.

She waves a hand toward the audio recorder that is now turned off.

"But since we're getting it all out in the open... don't think for a minute that I care about your opinion of me. You're not the first military personnel I've encountered who has said all those things about mercenaries-either behind my back, or to my face-and you certainly will not be the last. I have better things to do with my time and energy than try to convince you otherwise, or try to suck up to you. So think as you wish. My actions will always speak for me."

With that said, Rook's face shows that he is about to erupt. It is rare to see a toad turn that red and blue from anything other than being choked out. Which is something Kip would not mind seeing at this moment.

But the Lieutenant-Colonel does not wish to sully him any more before her. She has had enough.

"The interview is over. Please leave. We are done." he states defeated, mumbling.

"Are you sure? I would've assumed there was more you wanted to know."

He looks up with thunder in his eyes.

"I will not tolerate such a tone, young lady. Leave!"

Kip shrugs and does as she is commanded to do. She closes the door behind her and does a silent celebration, cheering for joy while at the same time flipping the Lieutenant-Colonel the bird in a childish but oh so satisfying way. When she is done, she decides to tell Calamity about this. It would certainly cheer her up.

Inside the room, Rook loses his composure completely and slams his fist on the table. Which hurts him more than he had expected. He puts everything back into his bag, which is not cooperating as every object is getting stuck on every nook and cranny. Which makes him grind his teeth as under his breath a plethora of bad words are spouted.

Once everything is in, he sits back down and holds his face in his hands. He wants the ground to swallow him whole at this point. But he cannot give up right now; he still has his two hands. Still capable of writing. With a head held low, he leaves the room and goes back to his room. Where he will certainly write a riveting report regarding the conduct of the two Militia's.

Behind a surveillance camera, two individuals were thoroughly enjoying this spectacle. The only regret was not having enough snacks during the whole sitting.

"Right, back to business. Project Blur and Censor. Progress?"

A printing noise is heard.

"Blur fully operational and integrated. Censor at 70% completion."

"Spread it."

"Are you certain?"

"100%"

3 - Who We Are

- Liaison

Tear-filled eyes scroll through those pictures. The mind behind them is doing its best to filter all the gore away as one by one they appear on the screen and are subsequently put into the correct folders. And disappearing off his screen. Calamity was right to break down in the way she did. But he cannot.

His work is too important. After all, without his tireless work the operations would come to a halt. How else are those pictures, statements, reports and files going to be sent to Command? Even if that meant pulling an all-nighter?

Working from his reclined chair, it looks like he is in a ball-shaped cockpit. Surrounded by screens that can join together to form one massive image or several if separated. With a keyboard for each hand, wearing a massive installation on his head that work both as glasses, headphones and an eye tracker which acts as his cursor. The only thing missing was, as he always joked about, a mobile gun platform. So he could roll onto the battlefield in his contraption and be an absolute menace. But as it is, the best he can do is stay put and play simulator games very immersively.

For games he has no time either though. As the only one responsible for these tasks and as he received everything his heart desired to exercise his job to perfection, he has no excuse. Normally this would not be anything to complain about, but as much as he sometimes wishes… he is not a machine. He is a shrew, a person. Shrewd and flamboyant but still a person. With feelings and empathy. And a working heart and stomach. Which makes trying to stomach this level of brutality without his heart breaking or vomiting all the more difficult.

Those emotions, no matter how battered and abused they are, are very important to this process. It takes one to know one, so to tug on the pretty much non-existent heartstrings of the bureaucrats at Command, everything needs to be well formulated and described. Or else those sticklers would not even try to put it on the desk of someone important.

Hence why he cannot give this task away. Or even share it. Nova 7 is good at a lot of things, but when it comes to the digital aspect, only Phantom comes close. But with him, comes the other. The one who was supposed to be working with him when this whole Tacker Field Base idea was first created. To make sure the digital architecture was complete. Soon enough however, he was pulled more and more into field operations. Leaving him alone. Of course he is the one who until recently was only projecting the idea of emotion. So why would that guy care? Perhaps now, now that he has the idea internalized but how can he come close to that?

"Why do you not ask him?" he suddenly hears from headphones.

In an instant, he throws his headphones off his head and keeps a scream of fear largely behind closed lips. The headphones clatter onto the floor and the cord almost chokes him until he untangles himself from his contraption. Now free, he looks around him. And hovering in the doorframe of his own room, he finds PAL. Who has his wire plugged into the mainframe. A blue-ish green light is emitted from his light.

"Oh. My. Stars! PAL, you startled the everlasting crap out of me! Could you please not get into my systems?"

"As you wish."

The wire disconnects and is swallowed back up into his housing. He hovers further into the room as the door closes behind him.

"Thank you. Pfff… I presume I wasn't talking just to myself, was I?"

"Your headphones decrease your ability to hear your own voice. To match your normal vocal volume, you inadvertently start to talk louder. Therefore, I could hear you complain in the hallway."

"A simple yes would have sufficed, you know?" he sighs.

"Yes. But I am aware of your tendency to be eccentric. Theatrical."

Nelson tries his best to frown but his brain forces him to smile as much as possible. He cannot stay angry at such a lovely tribute to his person. But that is not what PAL is here for.

"So, what did you hear?"

"Everything. Do not worry; I am not here to scold you. I am not your superior. I only wish to assist." PAL states as he hovers closer.

"Yeah, I figured as much. Look, I understand you wanna help but I don't think someone like you can really do it." Nelson explains as he tries not to sound dismissive.

"Do you doubt my computing skills?"

"No, not all. Yours are way better than mine. But this requires a certain level of emotional finesse. I know that such a thing is a fairly new concept to you so… I take the burden for myself."

He is pretty sure that by presenting it as something heroic, PAL would not have too much trouble accepting it and leaving him to do his own thing. They might be technically working together, but while PAL is in the field, he has to do everything himself. So he can do this as well.

"Could you teach me then?"

"Wut?" utters Nelson, surprised.

"Could you teach me? I calculate that we can get through all of this faster if I too know what to do."

"I'm uh… not sure if I can… teach you emotions per se…"

"Apologies, that is not what I was implying. By observing your work and knowing the contents of all files, photographs and audio recordings, I am certain I can half your workload and do it as well as you do."

"Uh… s-sure. Pay attention then."

As Nelson picks up where he left off, he starts to explain where certain files need to be put into or have to be sent out to the correct departments. And what to watch out for when it comes to various words or the amount of blood on display for example. Nelson continues to explain while showing off more examples.

PAL observes everything he does. From the slightest finger movement when tapping a key on the keyboard, to the position of the cursor as well as the speed in which he operates. All the while learning but also noticing why he in particular wanted to assist.

Because everytime a particularly nasty picture comes in frame, there is a miniscule moment of hesitation in Nelson's otherwise flawless work ethic. And judging from him quickly shaking off and blinking away recently formed tears, it hurts him to see this much cruelty. One advantage he has over those who had emotions as standard upon their creation, is that it hurts him less. He can see them not as dead people, but more like a collection of data to be analyzed and then deposited or sent to the right position.

"I believe I understand. May I join in?"

"Wha…? But I was only halfway through…?" Nelson responds perplexed.

"I am a fast learner."

"I guess… so. Alright, let's start a trail then. But I need you to promise me that you will not get into my private systems."

"If you do not trust me, then I should earn it. I have nothing to gain by accessing your files. Therefore, it would be illogical to do so." PAL reasons.

"Yeah…" Nelson admits, restrained before having an idea to test this.

"Alright, I'll let you do a couple to test how good you've paid attention." he states in a very teacher-y type of way, borderline authoritative.

"Plug yourself in and try it for yourself. I'll be watching you so don't… mess up, I guess?"

He wanted to say something more colorful but he cannot come up with something usable. And keeping up that bossy type of accent was messing with him anyway. So he drops the act and observes as PAL hooks up to the back of Nelson's cockpit and starts to do the work. And the shrew is indeed shown that PAL is a fast learner. No matter the contents of the file, all are sent out to or put in the correct department. And he is pretty sure that PAL is working slower than he could realistically do. On purpose, so he can check everything.

"PAL? Are you slowing down specifically for me?" he asks, both suspicious and curious.

"No, Sir." is PAL's answer.

An answer which Nelson does not believe but he takes it anyway. He chuckles as he holds out his fist. Which PAL bumps using his piston arm. And the base tech-team is back together.

"You're a terrible liar." Nelson states with a wide smile across his face as he grabs a hold of 50% of the total stockpile and gets back to work.

"Yes, Sir."

- All Bark

Embittered, he sits on the desk which was provided for him. It looks steadfast but also creaks like a rusty door hinge if he leans too much in it. His fingers run over the keys indecisively as the screen displays the written reports of the interviews. He can still remember them and how he failed to gain any usable information from them. He underestimated their resolve and personality.

He has two versions of each report on his screen. One with a mostly accurate portrayal with the actual audio files attached. The other is a fabrication, painting himself as the one holding moral high ground and depicting Calamity as a dumb brute who learned to count for the sole purpose of knowing how many shells she just loaded into her shotgun. He described Kip as a clueless hick, more interested in earning a fast buck than actual loyalty.

He is somewhat proud of this version of the story, if only because he thinks that it is written quite well. But another difference is that the audio logs are not attached to the fabricated version. For obvious reasons.

Right now, he is doubting which version to send out. If he sends out the correct one, he would look stupid and incompetent. Devious and potentially even sexist. But he would retain his honor and commitment. Something he always holds others accountable for. At least it would show he was telling the truth.

But what will the truth grant him? Not the recognition he is looking for. Certainly not the position he covets; being a full Colonel. Not some schmuck stuck halfway in between. He could spin a good yard with the documents and his already present reputation with the Board would only be beneficial. Of course, no one at this base would believe him and will counter with the camera footage. But he can think of a contingency for that. To make that footage just… disappear.

Rook rubs his hands together in glee. After weighing his options, there is only one that makes him grin from ear to ear. The only one that makes him feel as giddy as a child in a toy store. He will get back at those fiendish women that have mocked him. And he will expose the Major for the fraud he is. Not face to face, but by forcing him to step down. He will have the upper hand; for when he presents it to or discusses the fabrication with that mutt, he will already have sent out a copy to Command and the Board. It will be his word against the evidence. Along with the expansional growth of social outrage and the limited capacity he has to combat it… it will be a walk in the park.

He can already picture the defeated smoulder of the Major. When he has to admit defeat at his hand. Deceived but no longer a problem. However, because he knows he is in enemy territory and as the computer terminal he is using is not his own, he has to be careful. He double-checks his room to make sure he does not miss another camera again and then plugs in his portable drive. To make sure he always has a back-up on hand. Once it has been copied, does he send out the fabricated report. To both the Major and Command. Along with a strongly-worded email, urging Command to put all Militia on non-active because of this and the continuous loss of territory on the social and regular media front.

And he is sure that he will be called up by the Major soon enough. But now it is time for sleep. It is already late. Today was not the best day but tomorrow will be much better.

- All Bite

Sure enough, he was called to the Major's office very soon after waking up. Considering his tone, he was not too happy about the report and wished to speak one-to-one him. No Lieutenant, no one else. Just the two of them. Although he would not have minded an audience, this will do as well. He did expect the Major to bring this up a lot sooner but he should not think too hard about it. He got what he was looking for.

As proud as a peacock, he strolls casually into the hallway and towards the Major's office. He even, out of the flash of goodness he currently has in his heart, wishes good morning to some passersby. His day could not possibly get any better. He even whistles a tune, but not very well given that he does it on an in-breath. And out of tune.

He soon finds himself in front of the Major's office door. Because he is in a good mood, he will follow the custom of knocking twice on the door before entering. As he did not wait for the Major's call to come in, he gets another airblast to the face. His heavy-from-hair-gel hair is blown all the way back, making it look like he is wearing a toupee for a moment.

Which is a sad stain on his great day. He spent so long in front of the mirror getting it in shape; he even blew a kiss at himself because he was looking like such a score. And now he has to put it all back without the aid of a mirror. But he swallows this small bitter pill and enters the office. He can see the Major had almost reached for the air conditioning unit with the intention of turning it off.

"Ah, Colonel. You were faster than I had expected. Apologies for the hair."

"Lieutenant-Colonel, Major." Rook sighs before letting it flow away like water under the bridge.

He closes the door behind him and takes a quick stock of the office. There is no one around who he did not want around. Satisfied, he does his usual round of disinfecting before he sits down and prepares to keep a straight face as the Major will fall further and further from favor without him realizing.

"However, considering what happened yesterday, I shall forgive your small infraction. I reckon you have read the reports I have sent to Command and yourself?"

The Major can practically taste the smugness in Rook's voice. But he has to concede; he did read it. What he read did not please him at all.

"Yes, I have. What a shame it turned out that way. I'm actually quite glad you brought this up yourself."

Rook tilts his head in slight confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Simple. I'm glad you, as an outsider to Nova 7 and likely not knowing all the ins and outs of our operations and team chemistry, are so forthcoming with these kinds of issues."

"Oh… well. Yes, I thought it was very necessary. … I am sorry but you kind of have me at a loss for words. I did not expect you to… be so open minded regarding this."

"Did you not? That's regrettable. I must have given you the wrong impression. Heh, likely because a leader's job is not easy. Lots of responsibilities, chores and stress. It comes with the profession but we are all just people, are we not?"

Rook blinks his eyes very quickly and lightly shakes his head. Is this the same Major he met yesterday and the day before? The one that was disrespectful in every way towards him and the good, common sense that should prevail within the army?

"Yes… I-I suppose so. But is this report not damaging? Why do you seem so… I almost want to say elated. Glad that this came to light."

"But I am! You got it exactly right. And I will be sure to talk to those two about this."

The Major stands up from his seat and paces back and forth a short distance.

"I take things like this very seriously. Because as much as I like Nova 7… and you know how much I care for it; it would be nothing without a good team to pull the trigger. Things like this must be addressed to preserve it."

Rook does not know what he hears. He would have expected the Major to be down and out. Instead he stands tall and agrees with him? Did this report finally open his eyes to the scum he truly employs? It might be a bit early to assume this right now but he is not too far away now.

"Well, color me positively surprised! I did not think you would take it this well. Perhaps I have misjudged you. I thought you were blinded by passion and deaf to reality… but I see I was hasty in my assumption. I am glad to be wrong. For once that is."

The Major chuckles before he sits down. Then he grabs the printed out version of the file and holds it up.

"So, just to double check, everything you wrote in his file… is all your own words? Not of it minced or fabricated in any way? Or made up by someone other than yourself?"

"Uhm… yes. Yes of course."

"You are 100% certain?"

Rook laughs a little uncertain. Since when did this turn into a questionnaire from a spaceport customs officer?

"Yes, yes I am sure."

"Good. Because I do too. I will send it to Command myself for you. Turns out your message had a problem being sent to Command. So only I received it. But like I said, it's no trouble for me to do it for you."

"Ah… well, thank you, Major. Strange, but I can see technical problems happening. You know what; this day is going very well for me. And I have you to thank for that."

"I do what I can. Although it's strange to me how… ah well, I will not question how you respond to it. We all have our quirks after all." the Major casually dismisses as he grabs his phone and starts writing the message.

"Sure…? Well, anyway. I'm glad you also approve of my way of handling the Militia."

"Hm?" the Major mumbles, distracted.

"The way I suggested we should handle the Militia?"

"I must have read over that, sorry. But I'm sure I'll be in agreement with it. Could you tell me where that portion was mentioned? Then I can take a quick look at it before I send it out."

That is no problem to Rook. After all, he knows exactly where this is mentioned. Page nine, third paragraph. He asks permission out of his newly found respect if he could take the file and the Major allows it. Almost with frivolity does he take the file and opens it up. He flips through the pages until he gets to the exact location.

However, the words do not match. And as he reads on, despair starts to overtake him. He recognizes these words; they are written by himself. But not sent out by him. This is the actual report, not the fake one he sent out.

How is that possible? He must have checked it five, or even six times. He definitely sent out the right one! But this… this wrong. He flips through page after page but each forces him back to the same conclusion as before. This is what actually happened.

Then it clicks. This is why the Major was so upbeat. Because he read what really happened. And almost like the mutt could read minds, he is heard putting his phone on the table before he reaches over and takes the file out of Rook's meanwhile already shivering hands. The Major leans back into his chair and like an old story teller holds the file in one hand, which is placed on his raised knee.

"Fascinating read for sure. I was particularly intrigued how Calamity managed to hold herself together. Otherwise we might have found you with several teeth missing." the Major chuckles.

"If you were lucky of course."

"B-but… how?" Rook whines.

"I assume you weren't referring to the beating. Short answer? I don't trust you. I had a bug planted on your computer terminal. I could see it happening in real-time. Invasion of privacy? Yes, but I don't care. I correctly assumed what your purpose was here. And I will not have it." he ends very sternly before he looks at the door.

"Herg!" he calls out.

"Let them in. Kip and Calamity last if you can. No blood needs to be shed… yet."

After that, the door opens. And Rook can only look on as the room is flooded with Nova 7. From 7-0 to 7-6, with the enraged 7-3 and 7-4 in last. Calamity has to be held back by the Lieutenant, which even for him is hard to do. Understandably, the female dog is absolutely fuming, growling that she will show him no mercy this time.

However, with some calming words from Trevor, she is subdued for the time being. The door closes behind them and an icy silence sets in. All eyes are on Rook, who, like a religious zealot not wishing to accept defeat when his cult has just imploded in front of him, is frantically checking through the documents.

"You can stop searching for answers that aren't there, Sir." the Major says dismissively.

"We all know what happened. And they heard everything as well."

Rook stumbles over his own words and flutters with the file before it dawns on him that he is not getting anywhere. He has been caught red-handed and everybody around him is hostile to him. So he might as well delay for as long as possible. He puts the file back on the table, folds his arms and tries to look rather smug.

"So, w-what now?"

"What now? I know I will not get an apology out of you. Not in this lifetime. I could have Calamity beat it out of you but I doubt it would be sincere. No, I think I know what will happen. You will be returned to your room, while I take my Militia and send them out…"

"Wait! My drive! I have a copy still! And I will send it out via that!"

The Major looks unimpressed at the sudden interruption and at the, in the toad's mind at least, threat. Even when Rook pulls it out of his pocket, his face is characteristically like stone.

"Please, Colonel. Cut the shit, yes? If I have access to your computer, I have access to devices you have plugged in. You don't think that I didn't change those on your drive as well? Do you think I'm stupid? … Hm, on second thought, I retract that question."

"But… but…"

Rook fiddles with the drive in the vain hope that it might perhaps not be true what the Major is saying. He has to hold on to something after all. The Major however, takes that away. He stands up from his desk, snatches the drive from the toad's hands and flings it against the wall. Damaged but not shattered, it falls into a conveniently placed trash can. Then the Major sits down again.

"Quit your mewling. No one cares. You're done. I told you before; Nova 7 is mine. I worked too hard on this to let some foppish dickweed with a personal vendetta against me and my project ruin it."

He closes his hands together.

"So I won't. Those people around you? They have my blind trust. And vice versa. In return, they expect me to run everything around here smoothly so they can do their missions properly. It inspires loyalty and comradery. Like this."

He puts forms a 7 with his fingers and within an instant sidearms of all those that have them are drawn. But not aimed obviously. The moment he clenches his hand into a fist, the sidearms are withdrawn. Much to Rook's relief because he was starting to get nervous.

"And I do not proclaim to be the best leader, but I will do anything to keep them together. No matter their rank or profession choice. It is my promise to them. And I don't like breaking promises. So don't make me, you filthy puke!"

The Major slams his fist on the table and starts ranting at the toad. Everything he was holding back on for the past days, every word and second he wasted on this pile of worthless toad-blubber is coming out in an uncensored and unrestricted bellow of spite and vileness. There is nothing the Major is not firing at Rook when it comes to verbal abuse. To the point where Damian is getting worried about his behavior. He knows where this will lead to; a Lieutenant-Colonel in the sick bay.

"Clef!" he calls out, which brings the mutt's attention.

Damian gestures to cut if off; the message is loud and clear. Which the Major accepts and he calms down a little more. Rook meanwhile has been thoroughly roughed up. As he feels his heart beating fast in his throat, he reaches into his pocket to grab a wet towel to clean away the sweat that has accumulated on his forehead.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. We are done here, Colonel. Let me at least summarize it for you; I will take my Militia on the next mission. I will not put them on non-active duty. And after this mission, I will make my case with the Admiral, the General, MilCiv, Command and the Board to have your ass thrown to the curb. Or better yet, lock your ass up in jail for harassing my female co-workers!" he bites furiously at the very end before regaining his composure.

"Now, fuck off back to your room. I want you out by midnight so better start packing."

"But… what about the Militia crisis?"

"What? Those social media shenanigans? No worries; the moment we ace this mission, I'm sure Command will find someone to replace you with some more competent. Now, piss off will you?

The Major waves Rook away and turns away from him to send out the actual reports. Ignoring any stuttering the toad tries to draw his attention with, giving him the proverbial middle finger. He hears the door open up behind him and he finally accepts that this is it. Defeated and shaking slightly, he goes back to this room. There will be no one to escort him. He can feel all the leering eyes of the Nova 7 members he had wronged burn into his back until the door closes behind him.

What began as a great day, has quickly fallen into disarray. And he has to find a way to make it better. Should he contact the Admiral and plead his case? Use the assets he has to get rid of the evidence? He does not know.

- BONUS: Behind The Scenes

This is the audio log of Base Maintenance Technician Alexander Ramos, TF-#179, dated **.**.****. Today I was called up because of a leak in the walls near hallway 57 near the Major's office. There were already complaints about weird sloshing and mechanical whirring from behind the wall but nothing much that we could do about a normal functioning base. That's what we thought.

Some poor bloke got a nice spray of steam to the face when a pipe behind the wall burst above one of those odd connector points. Good thing it was mostly just air so he was alright. The fluid that came leaking out however… you'd need more than just a bucket and a mop for that.

So they called me and Alois in to fix it up for them. We went there and found that the damage was not as bad as was described. There could be plenty of internal damage however. So I removed the wall panel near that connector point and there was the culprit. One of the auxiliary pipes at a pretty busy pipe junction had blown right open. Alios thought it might have been blocked by something. It wouldn't surprise me considering the uhm… ""craftsmanship"" with which this place was built. I'm pretty sure a faulty A.I. could do better.

There was no way we could fix this without a replacement pipe. So I got out of the hole, grabbed my measuring equipment and went back in. And there I saw… it. A faint red light. Like one you'd see on a traffic light. I couldn't have missed that. And it was looking at me, I think.

It flashed brightly and then it was gone. Alois asked what was wrong because I had been petrified for a moment. I knew he wouldn't believe me so I shrugged him off, telling me not to interrupt during my work. Which went over well, considering the tirade he went on. What a wimpy prick he is. As soon as his contract is close to expiring, I will make sure that he will not get another contract. He's here to learn, not to wince.

After I was done measuring, I told Alois to stay put and make sure no one touches our stuff while I went to get a replacement pipe part. One of the advantages of this base is the massive budget it was granted for various technologies. Including some riveting 3D printing type of stuff. Done in like a minute and I got a pipe portion exactly right. Enough time to decompress for a bit and let it all flow away. Along with getting some coffee.

When I came back to place, all the stuff was still there but Alois was gone. And there was literally no one around. It was an eerie sight. The silence that lingered was perhaps the loudest thing I had ever heard. But what was more striking, was that the wall panel was put back and any surface damage had been restored.

I tried to keep things positive and assumed that the rookie finally got his act together and took some initiative. Cleaned up all the mess, straightened some details out and then was perhaps distracted in some way or he went to get some additional cleaning equipment. I did see that the cleaning solution was about halfway drained.

All understandable, but why put the panel back and make it look like nothing happened? Did the Major walk by and he didn't want to look not busy?

I just went on with my business. I removed the panel again and… everything was fixed. Like really. Everything was fixed! Not only was the pipe whole again, but the way the pipes were arranged and sized… it's as if someone took my rambling seriously and while I was gone was able to somehow put everything right. And added a sort of rough purplish-blue paint to the very back of the wall? Alois, no matter how good he thinks himself, couldn't have done this. Impossible.

I was ready to throw in the towel, grab the stuff and just go to bed. I had seen enough for today. But then I noticed a certain sheen around some of the pipes I had not seen before. It was like a thin layer of wax. I wiped my finger over it and I saw it was purple too. It startled me pretty bad when it burned a hole through my glove but the moment the fluid touched my finger, it felt like lukewarm water but it had the consistency of gum. And it turned blue upon touching my finger.

It was safe for the skin but not for fabric or leather? I was stumped. I threw in the towel, reinstalled the panel, collected all my stuff and went back to my room. I needed a nap.

A couple of hours later I found Alois again. He apologized for not being there as the Major tasked him with something else. He persists that he didn't clean up anything; he wanted to but was then called away by the Major. And… apparently because I'm an old curmudgeon so the Major had a note made up for me so I couldn't beat Alois' ass. I didn't even mention anything about the self-repairing pipes.

Maybe I should think about letting my contract expire. This place is a nuthouse. I left all the stuff we used in storage locker #179 with the code 2-4-0-7. Log out.