15 - The Swinging Dick
Udeav Minor
Colonial Space
Fifty-Kilometers South of Kam'Pak'Ar
Evening
"Questions?"
Timo had briefed the plan to the small gathering of eager scouts and a less-than-eager Setiawati in the dingy, dimly-lit basement of an old grain silo. It wasn't the most secure location; but those assembled had been screened for allegiance before. The compressed timeline also alleviated some of Timo's fears; Vikr didn't have the flexibility to respond so quickly anyway.
So far, Timo had received only a few disconcerted outbursts for comments, but no questions. None had elected to volunteer yet either, and many chose to abstain. None left the room early, which Timo had never forbidden. It was a gesture that was well-appreciated, but Timoteus counted many of his comrade's faces contorted in a way that suggested they were merely waiting to decline.
One volunteer, and avian, rose amid the silence. He shifted uncomfortably in the midst of his colleagues before speaking.
"The Wreath has been functioning for a few months now as an open secret. Most of us already knew this," the yellow-feathered canary spoke. "Why such a hard target? Why now?"
He looked back to some of his friends in the group. Some nodded, other's didn't acknowledge him at all.
"Why not something easier?"
The last word shook Timo loose. It was only a matter of time before the fair question was asked. The young wolf, who was resting his tail and bottom on the plastic card table he'd placed his PDA on, leapt forward and replied more frankly than many anticipated.
"Ambushing Vikrmen, even their mercs, is beneath us," He said in a begrudging tone. "It's just a fact. We aren't them. There will always be monsters among them."
He walked through the white light hologram projecting his plans as Anders Ljón's likeness punctured his mind. An instructive irony. 'Demitrious' peacemaker,' a title the lion had been given by the mediators.
"Parasites looking for violence," the wolf clarified. "We have to stop taking it out on them."
"Zeouna knew this, too. We cannot kill our way to freedom. At least, we can't keep killing the tools."
"Seti?" The bird asked, seeking a second opinion.
She was visually displeased with Timoteus' bold plan, but her lengthy inhale confirmed to the young wolf the correctness in his intent. She spoke, and the room listened.
"A hammer does not know how the house is made," she metaphorically provided with a lengthy pause.
"Rao Timoteus is correct. We cannot rely on attrition. We thought that we could turn opinion to our side, but they have outlasted us everytime we try."
"They've made our story disappear."
She pointed her walking stick to the ceiling and the purple sky beyond it.
"Centers. They don't hear about the risks back in Lylat," she continued. "They only know of the rewards. They'll keep coming."
"I want to go after their masters," Timo refocused. "Their money, their reputation."
"This plan, Rao Timoteus, its suicide," the canary scout replied, shaking his head in disbelief. Some of the others quietly agreed.
"It's risky," The young Rao responded, trying to minimize the murmuring without insulting the honor of those questioning him. It was their right; it was risky.
"Which is why I'll be leading it personally. Volunteers only."
The bird searched his soul for a bit before sitting down, likely counting himself out.
"No one will be judged for refusing it," Timo said to the horseshoe-shaped arrangement of his scouts. "And, I have very exact standards for those who step forward."
There was one voice ready for the task; Fitzgerald, his most aggressive scout leader.
"How many do you need?" The gray and black striped felid asked nonchalantly. He was in the middle of the group; where he was always expected to be found.
"Two animals that can blend in," Timo requested. "Urban types. Good manners."
Fitzy, the new scout leader shook his head and exhaled with exasperation.
"Social skills? That pretty much ensures I'm in then," He noted pessimistically. "Fuck it. Yuki too."
Yuki? Timo recalled. The poisoner.
"Too many cats?" Timo questioned, turning to Madam Setiawati for direction, who shrugged. The mission team couldn't attract attention, but sometimes battles had to be fought with what you had.
"Oh, you dogs are free to keep up at any time," Fitzgerald wisecracked to the collective groan or shaking head of every canid assembled.
Fitzy was the right call, Timo thought with a smirk. If anyone can talk their way through trouble it's going to be him.
"Two more that can fight hand-to-hand," Timo requested, looking at the current scout leader, Dalia. "We will not be able to get weapons past certain areas there."
Fitzy's animated gaze immediately locked with Dalia's yellow eye's reticence. Much like Timo had been, the white tiger was uncomfortable with being put on the spot.
"Dal," Fitzy teased, snapping his fingers, "You like snapping necks, right?"
The right choice.
"I'm in," Dalia said. "I'll make sure my second picks are screened."
Dalia's own section of scouts tensed up. The white-furred cat had high expectations for them ordinarily, some looked nervous by what that meant.
"Anything else they need?"
Timo almost forgot.
"No one with a history with Vikr," The wolf explained. "No arrestees, no defectors, no one that's been scanned or picked up by Vikrmen. We can't risk anyone getting held up at a checkpoint."
The book was shut on most volunteers from that moment forward. To Timo's pride, he saw disappointment creep onto some of the assembled scout's faces.
He'd barely finished the sentence when there was some commotion at the top of the twisting staircase.
The emb-planked door burst open as two sets of distinct footsteps pattered down the stairs. Everyone reached for a weapon to defend themselves, though none reacted faster than Dalia, who suppressed a snarl as she drew her pistol and stood.
She, and the others, dropped it to the low ready.
The first pair of boots down the winding staircase belonged to a rough-looking horned lizard in a brown flight suit. The other: the confident, curt, bootfalls of Kivi's petite pirate queen.
It had been at least a year since she'd been planetside. To Timo's disbelief, Béa carved her way through the formation of killer's without concern. She centered herself amidst the gathered elite. The Akita-Inu hybrid stood illuminated by Timo's floating notes. Her guard merely crossed his arms and leaned against the back corner.
The mutual silence was uncomfortably long. Minutes long, potentially, as Béa studied the mix of chicken-scratch diagrams and carefully constructed timetables dangling mid-air. She flicked her fingers through the files, the photos; through everything. The pretty little thing didn't appear to blink once.
It should be her up here with me. Timo noted, before hastily resuming his professional identity.
It seemed he'd returned to reality too slow for her liking.
"Fook you looking at?" She asked assaultively, her arms crossing defiantly while glaring cherry-red daggers straight at Timoteus.
"I'm here to discuss terms."
Dalia laughed. "Terms?" She asked, almost in disbelief. She stepped between Timoteus and Béa, both making the latter look comically small.
Béa didn't break eye contact with Timo; who couldn't help but smile at his apparent success with last week's sojourn.
"One-time call-up," she demanded with a pointed finger at the young Rao.
"After?" She said, pointing to the smattering of plans and ideas above her. "Set. Finito. Dunzo."
It wasn't terms he could accept. But, Rao Timoteus took the time to pretend to consider them before his own arms crossed.
"No deal," Timo said after a few seconds.
Béa rolled her eyes and walked closer.
"Skip your theatrics, you silly slab of meat."
The irritated Akita seemingly looked through Timo and Dalia.
"I'm talking to the real brains here," she said, accursing Seti out of her astonished daze.
"Setiawati, you mean, old, bitch," She insulted. Teeth glinting off in a wide-cast grin. "It's time for me to go. And, you know it."
The mouse let out an amused little laugh, but the burden of duty mandated she conduct herself professionally.
"Rao Timoteus," Seti advised. "She has a point."
Timoteus heeded her words with a twist of his body. Dalia kept herself fixated on Béa, who didn't appear to even acknowledge the cat's existence.
"Rao Zeouna removed all our vassals. All except one. As a free assembly, It never sat right with her."
"Not practical, neither," Béa interrupted casually, while dismissively inspecting her nails. "Just gives me another reason to sell out,"
"Another?" Timo asked nervously.
She winked. Not one that the others saw before she spoke. "Aye."
Timo inhaled. Should have figured she'd wring out my options.
He snorted, before clarifying their terms. "One-time?"
"Last time," she confirmed with a smile.
Time to play my own games. Timoteus didn't hide his cocky smirk before he made his own subtle demands.
"I'll need some time to think on it," he said.
Maybe you can stick around for the night, Timo almost stated aloud. He didn't need to, her right ear twitched as she skipped a breath. He'd seen that enough to know certain wheels were turning.
The Pirate Queen rolled her eyes, looking as close as she could being flustered. Timo assessed this was likely as much negotiation wiggle room as she would allow.
Dalia was not nearly as satisfied.
"You're going to trust the pirate?" The white felid blurted. Béa didn't react with offense or anger, instead only raising her white-tuft eyebrows with pride in herself.
"She prefers 'privateer'," Timo clarified, the seriousness of his defense landing slightly askew on Dalia.
Now, at this, Béa did take offense.
"I prefer you leave me out of this!" Béa retaliated with a grating tone.
"And, yet, you're here," Timo accused, a dark mirror to the other night's greeting.
Now, his innocuous-sounding tease would be nothing to the average animal. But, for Béa, who was already exceeding her range of tolerance for disrespect, it turned her feral.
The wrath of Béa's whole head, tail and body rocketed toward Timo. It was all familiar to him: instant rage, a split-second to cool, and a final application measured savviness. This woman, Timo knew, was going to pulverize his entire ability to command the room down to the subatomic level.
"Let's be honest, love." She specified to sow chaos. "I'm your plan. Everything else is just bonus."
She approached the projected maps leaned over the table, blue and white light reflecting off her red eyes.
The canid flicked past a few of the items and picked exactly what Timoteus knew she would; his estimates for air-worthy ships in Ketumat's holds. He winced as she pulled her cupped hands apart on the image, magnifying it for all to see.
She appealed to the group.
"I'm the muscle."
"I'm the swinging dick."
Dalia objected to her phraseology. "Have some re-"
Béa finally acknowledged Dalia as she flung her tiny body at a woman with arms more than twice-wide.
"-You get killed?" The red-eyed akita interjected, index finger inches away from the white tiger's face before turning her head back to Timoteus .
"Boohoo. Just another dead scout in the field."
"You're wrong," Dalia responded, head shaking with revulsion.
"I'm never fooking wrong."
She faced the group this time, beads of blue light clashing against waves of vermillion resolve in her irises.
"Without me? You lose your nuclear option. Gone. Poof," she expressed, gesturing to the sound's onomatopoeia with her hands.
"If this is your ask of me, it's a big one, and it's the end of our deal," she said. "Then we're square."
Dalia was about to say something.
"-Not now kitty-cat," Béa interrupted. "I got your Rao's balls in a vice."
Timoteus had long-since made up his mind, there was no use fighting it. Béa had the ships, the guns and the experience. No one else could come close.
"I need you ready by week's end," he said, offering his hand.
She was hesitant at first, but then slowly inched toward the wolf and extended her own hand back, undignified at having to reach a bit further up to shake it than she'd liked. What amounted to a standard week would be enough.
She nodded in agreement.
"We'll hate to lose you," Timo said mid-shake, noting that Béa's hand felt natural clasped to his own.
He held for a micromoment too long. A mutual softness in their eyes intertwined briefly. Timo's stillness did not waver, but Béa grinned scantly before looking at the floor.
"Lose me?" She whispered for his ears only. She instantly realized how tender she was being, straightened up and spoke louder.
"Make peace with it, Rao. Some of usare going to survive this."
She turned, walking back up the stairs. It wasn't like her to be planetside for long. Her last words were a tease she felt could end the conversation. This time, however, Timo would have the last barb.
"Do me a favor, then," the young wolf yelled, freezing her mid-climb on the stairs.
"Don't die too early."
Udeav System
SF Condottiere
Colonial Space
1100 Ship Time
The team had passed through the gate four days ago in a sour mood and with no one responding to their comms. Falco knew it was never a good sign when your pursestrings went dark.
Tensions ran higher the further up the chain-of-command one was, and no one was angrier than Jana. It was an embarrassing financial disaster for her. Past the gate, their existing funding was measured in hours, not days. And mercenary work didn't carry insurance.
There was some 'fortunate' news. We still have a job, apparently.
An emergency request had come in, rushing Jana and Akach down to Udeav minor. A recovery mission rush-job that Falco knew would only pay expenses for a week. The end result was the rest of the team orbiting this benign, boring, gas giant with their thumbs up their asses until Jana returned with good news.
Sarcasm was always his way of coping. But, even for him, it was all a callous reaction on his part. One Falco didn't intend to fully overshadow the red carpet of tragedy rolled out for their arrival, nor the astro-political calamity they were about to be inserted into. The old bird had lived long enough for it to bea cycle he could predict at this point.
What had happened to the kid was terrible. He thought. What's worse, though, is the blowtorch that the institution of a father is going to take to every kneecap in the colonial system if we don't find what he's looking for.
Falco didn't know what it was like to be a grieving father, but he knew what loss was. The falcon could only assume that a violent chase down was all but inevitable at this point; revenge masquerading as justice.
Revenge is hollow. It never stops. It's never satisfying. It never fixes anything.
Falco knew from experience.
He was occupying a seat in the Dot's lovely observation deck, a keystone-shaped prism of transparentized aluminum on the hull's bottom. 'Occupying,' as in not as much as looking at the Vikr-provided briefing material Jana had strewn about on the deck's central table with instruction to piece together their target's next moves while she'd been away.
Falco kept operations moving, he kept his ships and pilots in working order. There wasn't anything else Falco felt he needed to know about.
Jean-Starkly's revised contract was simple: locate and apprehend Zeouna of Settler City. Alive preferred, dead acceptable.
Except, nothing was ever so simple. Especially when the payer was a parent out for blood. And now we were all roped in the same stupid mistake.
Falco knew this was already a delicately fused powder keg; but the reports across colonial media were more caustic than even he'd expected. There was a massive riot on Usva that got a few locals spaced. Kew went on full gate lockdown to control civil unrest. The Ketumati had allies in low places, and everything out here was racing to the bottom again. They could smell a war.
Even that rat bastard, O'Donnell, made a statement after more than a decade of stubborn silence in Sargasso. Some garbage about colony folk's red-lines and self-reliance. We are walking on eggshells here. Except the eggshells are mined and we're already on fire.
He sighed. This was a familiar game he'd hoped to avoid. But now, even Fox's boy was running headlong in the same stupid-stampede.
The kid had heart, he always did. But, Falco wished he'd been smarter about this; Jimmy had taken it all a bit too personally.
When the news about the girl came up, the nonchalant funk he'd arrived with passed immediately. His eye's focused into purpose, possibly without any chemical assistance. Jimmy didn't know it, but he was looking, sounding and acting very much like his father.
Stupid kid. He'll have to learn the same way we did.
Falco laughed to himself, garnering a look from the bug-eyed lizard sitting across from him. Vuka or whatever. The Venomian was rubbing his leathery forehead; he'd been reading for at least a few hours.
"ROB's analysis is complete. Looks like Vikr's files on her are essentially the same as the ISS," Dripp Toad remarked, comparing two open filesystems on a tablet PDA. His younger brother had at least six hologram displays surrounding him.
"Essentially? Funny how that works," Falco said sarcastically.
His brother, Tadd, took issue with his brother's imprecision with a sharp grunt. The two had been seated cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by tablets, profiling Zeouna for about three-hours.
"Give or take a few minor details," the blue amphibian spoke, eye's still tracking moving text with the drag of his finger.
Jimmy, who was admiring Udeav Major's double-rings and azure hue out the twenty-centimeter thick aft window, swiveled and trudged over.
"How minor?" The vulpes asked, his brows were ruffled with vexation.
"Vikr's evidence that our target fled. Gate scans didn't match up with a ship capable of carrying her out."
Falco was the odd man out, he shrugged it off before responding.
"So, the little pirate forged gate credentials and got lucky the visual inspection didn't catch anything, Big friggin' deal. That's how Fox and I used to get to Sauria back in the day."
The furless trio didn't appreciate his glibness. Both the brothers Toad and Vukašin shared a terse glance.
"Pretend the old-man actually read the summary," Vuka teased, one of his eyes settling on Falco's browline. "What's he missing?"
ROB's anticipatory programming preferred to give the group an excerpt than a full brief. 'His' subroutines likely knew the group was long past their patience for paragraphs.
"Vikr LLC claims that the suspected registration was for a Wolfen, second mark. Though the registration was left blank," ROB's improved vocal phonatory response chirped. "On the same timestamp and bearing the Condottiere took contact from eighty-two hours ago."
"So? They can claim anything," Falco asked, "Did the CDF actually get one on a feed?"
Tadd wasn't optimistic. "On forty-year old doppler pulse scanners? Unlikely."
"Yeah, those pups can whip," Dripp added, tinges of respect in his tone.
"Negative. There was no other evidence other than the registration provided."
The timing is right. The ship was wrong. Unless…
"You think our killer was riding with that Caruso girl? Falco blurted. his arms stretching over head as he leaned back into his vinyl monococ seat. "The Wolfen's a tight fit for one. And, unless she was chopped in half and stuffed in the cargo bay."
"That would mean someone inside KEI is in on whatever happened."
"No. Not just someone," James added, tapping his foot nervously.
"We don't know what modifications could have been made," Vukašin vented, "For all we know it could just be a bad attribution by Vikr. I don't know what to think, yet."
"No surprises there, Vuka." The blue Toad degraded, Tadd chortled at the lizard before announcing his leading hypothesis.
"We can only fully confirm three things. Jean-Starkly was murdered, Zeouna is missing, and Liana Caruso was flying a modified Wolfen through the gate at a similar time as reported," he assessed.
"If Caruso is involved, we can't rule out that it's a frame job or a cover-up for some isolated mistake," He continued. "This makes understanding Caruso our key here."
"But, we can assume some things too. Law of parsimony. Keeping the theories simple," Tadd continued. "Who has the most to lose from the Jean-Starkly situation?"
"KEI," Tadd and Dripp chirped at the same time. They looked at Vukašin, the amber-scaled Venomian still a little sore about Tadd's degradation. He relented.
"Agree," he said. "I think Ander's just lost his only reliable paycheck. It doesn't make sense for him to be involved."
They're right. Billions of credits over the years went into the 'arrangement' keeping KEI in business. Ariane was Ander's cash cow, Falco thought before agreeing.
"Yeah, we can rule out KEI."
Tadd started collecting the alumiglass tablets surrounding him before summing up their findings.
"So, leaving all options open, it is likely that we are looking for a connection between Zeouna and Liana Caruso or someone between them looking to make KEI take the hit. It is likely that Ariane was either about to squeal about it and the pair were forced to act."
James had been quiet. Too quiet, as Peppy used to say.
The big-hearted popstar was pensive. He stared at the floor and shook his head with every agreement from the group. Something wasn't sitting right with his adoptive son.
"Wait," Falco stated, raising his hand. "What does the furred delegation in the room think?"
The question wasn't welcome; perhaps the one of the few time's Falco had seen Jimmy avoid being the center of attention.
"I don't agree."
"With?" Tadd enquired harshly.
"With who you think has the most to lose."
"Go on," Falco challenged with a brisk motion.
"Z did," James said quietly. "That's what I think."
"Ariane wasn't just a shield. They were something to each other," he expounded quickly, "Or, at least, Zeouna thought they were. How else do you explain their arrangement lasting for so long?"
"Naive," Vukašin demeaned.
"Sounds like you're pitying her," Dripp accused.
"Don't," James said, holding up his hand. He didn't look at the toad, but he would have had teeth displayed. Falco knew it wasn't pity behind his rage.
"Falco," he asked, his tone suggesting he was about to descend into a hypothetical, "Choose; ten million credits, or you get to talk to your dad again?"
Falco shifted uncomfortably, unsure of facing the ancient, wrathful shade of Carlo Lombardi again. Jimmy was able to read the discomfort, fortunately.
"Okay, okay!" Jimmy conceded, reading the old-bird's discomfort. "My dad, then."
"It's an easy choice, right?"
Falco knew it was.
"I understand what the kid's getting at," Falco admitted, breathing in and looking out toward the group.
"Money doesn't run everyone's motivations," James said. "It's not always practical."
"So, you think we are assuming too much."
"We have an incomplete picture from the biggest corporation ever to do it. But we have incredible details from the Starkly family about Ariane's obsession with Z and Udeav."
"So, no," James cautioned, "I think we're assuming what someone wants us to assume."
"It's convenient. Why wouldn't Vikr not have clearer data on the ship at this point? Why would it be the same signature of the ship we ran into? A Wolfen, really? Why would Vikr give Ari's father a trail of easy leads to follow instead of doing it himself?" he asked the group.
Falco rubbed his tired eyes. James was playing the part of the desperate romantic again. Asking conspiracy-laden questions without considering the fact that Zeouna was likely just another murderous lunatic.
"Jana said their captive seemed devastated about Ariane, but clueless about where their leader was," the Vulpes continued. "The little we know about Z is: She's ruthless, but she's not stupid."
"If this was a declaration of war, why would Z disappear as it began? If it was a crime of passion, why would she deliberately create a war over it?"
The energy in the room shifted as another McCloud's opinion entered the fold.
"Because she never left."
Jana McCloud's declarative voice drew everyone's attention. The boss was back on deck. She'd been hovering near the main level lift for a few beats.
Jana was supposed to be on rest from her three-day patrol on Minor's surface. She certainly dressed like someone at rest. Gray sweatpants, black t-shirt, no shoes on her tan-furred feet. But, she wasn't ready to give up work just yet.
"So you agree? You think she's still down there?" Jimmy asked, surprised at his sister's entrance.
"I do," She agreed, but her face signaled she had more to say.
"I think it's regime change," Jana said.
"Who?" Jimmy asked.
"Someone close to Zeouna."
"You think whats-her-name was involved?" Dripp asked, crossing his arms.
"Liana. And, I don't. Not yet."
"Come on," Falco said "She's a Caruso, you can't put it past her."
Jana's eye's shot daggers back at him. "Exactly! Perfect fall girl, meant to take the blame."
"Hell of a thing to stage," Vukašin questioned. "Half-dozen dead security contractors at least. Wolfen gear-marks down in the rim."
"All Vikr's boys. And, any half-wit with three-minutes and an iron rod can fake gear marks." Jana rebuffed.
Collective sighs. More questions than answers.
"So where do we go from here?" Dripp asked.
"Moving targets," Jana stated.
"We play the game. Stick to the script we're given," Jana continued, "I'm not saying it is one, but I've burned inside plays before. Conspiracies and such."
"We check out Liana first, quietly, and then drill-down on the Ketumati if she's clean."
"Let's start tomorrow. Sound good?" She asked with palms outstretched. Her words merely mimicked a question; she desperately wanted to dismiss the group.
The room, with the exception of Falco and Dvali, was nodding in varying levels of intensity. Autopilot. The smooth-skinned and scaled delegation filed out of the room, venting their exhaustion with them.
This only left the McCoud twins and their adoptive father. Jimmy, the dissenter, spoke.
"I think we should leave them alone," Jimmy said unsteadily. "I mean, I'm new at this; but all of our on-ramps seem like we get a lot of locals killed, no?"
Jana shook her head, and looked to her adoptive father with disbelief. Falco, for his part, knew never to get involved between the twins' arguments until they were over.
So he shrugged.
"I want to find her, Jana," James' continued. "But, don't you think another pirate fight will be the result?" He said, appealing to Falco. "Us charging in there is giving them exactly the attention they want."
"I'm not seeing an alternate option at this point. And, whatever issues they had with the previous security people, we can make it work for everyone," She said. "We're Star Fox, Jimmy, we help people."
"Oh, because we're so different?" Jimmy argued. Stepping closer to his sister. "You don't think everyone else starts these contracts with such good intentions?"
"I don't like it, Jana."
He returned to neutrality, shaking his head twice before resuming his usual temperament. He didn't want another fight with his sister. Falco noticed she didn't get the memo.
"You don't have to," Jana declared, stirring the pot. "You'll be doing it either way."
"I don't need you to trust Vikr. I don't need you to trust the Feds," She marched on. "I need you to trust me."
"We'll get this right. It's who we are, Jimmy."
Fox's brats were arguing again, though Falco thought it was cuter when they were little hatchlings. Two clashing archetypes, joined seemingly only through their common name.
"It's James," Jimmy insisted. "And, I didn't say it earlier. But, I think there's more."
"Yeah?" Jana canvassed, arm's crossed. "Is that your expert opinion?"
"Are you sure this isn't about KEI?" James asked.
He'd touched the third rail. She sighed in exasperation, trying to mask some form of emotion Falco was unequipped to identify. Her eyes widened, before tightening back to their usual coldness. Jana turned and walked toward the lift; done with the conversation.
But, James wasn't ready to let her go.
"Jana!" He called out in a nervous tone. He'd taken a few steps after her.
The foreboding silence between her name and the resulting question was substantial.
"Who is Anders?"
Jana's eye's darkened. Like she wasn't talking to family at the moment.
"Careful, James," she warned. "Be very fucking careful."
Fox's boy looked back to Falco. The old bird mouthed three words to the young McCloud.
"Let it go."