by Greg Dragon
“There was no discussing his plans, Helga,” Cilas confided. “Just told me he wanted to make sure Anders was good, and what could I say to that? No? Even now, a part of me wonders if he hasn’t slipped past the hospital’s attendants to hunt down all those thypes on his own. We both know he’s capable, and I won’t sit here and pretend that I would be surprised if that’s what he chose to do.”
“Very capable, but without leave from his commander to run off and play vigilante killer, he would risk everything we’ve worked for,” Helga thought out loud. “Though thinking about it now, that doesn’t amount to much, does it? We managed to capture one target of the two we were sent to neutralize, and the other is in the wind, leaving a city in flames with our Alliance as the scapegoat.”
“None of that is ours to fix, Hel, and Tutt respects the chain of command. Let’s not assume he’s suddenly gone rogue.” Cilas scrutinized the room, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. “You can’t stay in here scheming,” he decided. “Things are still fresh in our heads and that’s where this need to do something urge is coming from.”
Helga agreed quietly. Perhaps he was right. He normally was. She had been helplessly laid up for days, and though spacers were used to confinement in tight spaces, the guilt from the feeds were eating her alive. “Maybe I should get some fresh air,” she offered, still looking out at the clouds. “The topside is open, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” Cilas confirmed. “It’s where they have their fighters—”
“Fighter jets,” Helga corrected him.
“Fighter jets,” Cilas repeated. “You should have yourself a tour. Stretch your legs and clear your mind of all these negative thoughts. I have a call with the captain, but while I do that, I suggest you get dressed and take yourself topside. Visit Ray if you like, that’s if he’s up, and when I’m finished we can talk some more. It may not be out of the question for us as a unit to return to Fio Doro’s.”
Those last words filled Helga with joy, remembering the holo displaying the memories of Fio Doro’s childhood. It was something she lacked, something they all lacked, hard memories of a life outside of the ‘forever war.’ She didn’t know why it meant so much to her. Fio Doro wasn’t family or someone she considered a friend. It felt like vindication, however, something right to come from all this mess.
“That would make me very happy,” she said, meeting his eyes with something more than gratitude for considering her request.
“We’ll talk later, but until then, try to take your mind off the tenements,” he said. “I’ll let the captain know we will be delayed on our egress.” Cilas touched her shoulder, and she straightened up to reach out and in turn touch his.
26
The sun was out, a rare occasion in Basce City when the rain didn’t accompany the bone-chilling cold, which wasn’t letting up even with the change of weather. Its bright white disk blurred against the clear blue sky—clear being a stretch, considering the smog, which was Basce City’s toll on its populace for hosting chemical factories whose pollution altered the atmosphere.
Three bedraggled strangers to the tenement stocks made their way through once-busy streets, now barren, but for a few brave souls running about. The raiding party from the night before had locked horns with the Genesian Guard, and the evidence of their minor war was everywhere. Buildings, already well-past their date of repair, now hosted new perforations from kinetic rounds, and burn marks from bomblets and homemade firebombs.
As expected, the Genesian Guard had put an end to the terror with superior firepower and veteran tactics. The rogue Marines had been forced to flee north to what remained of Sunveil’s manor, where more of the Guard would be waiting to trap them. The BasPol forces involved with the terror were rounded up and taken into the city where they would be tried and eventually convicted for turning their guns on the citizens they had sworn to protect.
On every corner the guards patrolled, the Nighthawks were stopped and made to verify their credentials. Despite this annoyance, it was still too soon after the conflict for them to relax. Their trained ears could still hear gunfire chattering in the distance, those last Marines carrying out their final order, which was to not get taken alive on the surface.
It was both sad and inspiring, seeing an already broken city invaded, only to show so much resilience in the end. On the walk up the steep road that took them from the gates to Fio Doro’s tiered apartment building, it had been a much different experience from earlier. Elderly residents, too seasoned to let the violence keep them from enjoying the rare glow of the sun, sat out in front of their residences, eying the trio skeptically as they hustled along.
“Keep your head down and act like you belong here,” had been Cilas’s only instructions, and in doing so, the Nighthawks made it through several checkpoints of vigilant street enforcers playing at guardians for their tiers.
Helga had worried that coming in geared would have people mistaking them for the Marines from Helysian, but Cilas had assured her that the way they were dressed was more Genesian Guard than Alliance. Before setting out, they had ditched the cloaks, whose purpose was to shield them from the rain and windy environment. They still wore the form-fitting body armor, all-black and unmarked, with backpacks loaded with their gear and racked weapons.
Raileo Lei had been released early, cleared by the Velecrance’s head physician, with a warning that he needed rest to fully recover from his wounds. He, Cilas, and Helga had been taken directly to the tenements by way of an armored aircar, courtesy of a Corporal Josh Jo-Lin, who was a friendly fellow with family members serving on the starship Missio-Tral.
The mission was retrieval, grabbing the rest of their gear and whatever else they deemed valuable from Fio’s apartment. The young smuggler could never return home, and knowing how that felt, Helga was determined to bring her the holos of her father and friends throughout the years. She stopped to adjust her pack higher up onto her back, thumbs tucked into the straps as she leaned forward, watching Cilas approach Fio’s door to unlock it.
“Aquilo,” Helga sang, cupping one hand as she repeated his name, confident, though in truth hopeful, that he was lurking somewhere.
The young boy's face stuck out from the overhang leading to the higher tier, where he’d told them he lived with his friends. “Get down here, scout, let’s have a look at you,” she instructed him, cheerfully, though she did notice his manner was much more reserved. Gripping the overhang, he threw his legs over his head, tumbling forward to hang above them by slender arms, before dropping to the floor before them.
“Why didn’t you come back to help us when we helped you?" he accused Cilas, ignoring Helga to stare up at the commander with a look of defiance.
Cilas met his gaze evenly, stoic as ever, but to the two who knew him, he looked very annoyed with the question. “The person who did this to you,” he said. “We left to stop him and make sure he can never do this again. You understand? I am sorry this happened to you and everyone here, Aquilo. Had we stayed to fight, they would still be here hurting innocent people, but we made sure that didn't happen. Are you alright?”
Aquilo softened enough to survey the three of them before focusing on Helga, who had recognized his struggle with being brave in the face of so much tragedy. “Hey, we came to get Fio’s stuff. Is there anything you’d like for me to tell her when I see her again?” she asked the fidgeting urchin, who responded by shaking his head in the negative.
“Tell her when she comes back home, I will own this building, and she can have her house back, for free,” the boy stated firmly.
“Righteous,” Raileo remarked. “Here’s a gift to help start your ascent.” He leaned past Helga to hand Aquilo three MRE packages and a fistful of chocolates. This brought a look of surprise to the boy’s forlorn face.
“I believe you will do exactly as you say,” Cilas offered, reaching into his own pack to grab the remainder of his MREs, which he combined with Helga's to add to the bounty. “You did
look out for us, boy, and we don't forget our friends. If you don’t find opportunity in this city, just remember, there’s always a place for you up there.” He pointed up to the sky where Aquilo’s filthy face followed, struggling to understand what he meant.
“When the time is right, you’ll know what he means,” Raileo assured him. "Now, get back to your people before they think something happened to you out here."
Aquilo kept looking up at the sky for a moment, then looked at Helga, eyes dropping to scrutinize her gear. He turned to examine Raileo’s, then Cilas’s, before turning back to look at the sky, thoughtfully. “Is Fio up there now?” he asked.
“She is,” Helga replied, hoping he wouldn’t start asking for details on where she was hiding.
“Goodbye,” he offered meekly, clutching the stack of MREs to his chest. He turned without saying more and jogged on bare feet to a set of stairs leading up to his tier, where he could stash them for later consumption and selling.
“Breaks my heart,” Helga muttered. “Let’s get what we came for and leave before I do something stupid.”
“Can’t save them all,” Cilas reminded her as he entered Fio’s apartment with his pistol primed. “Clear in here, let’s go.”
“Isn’t that the point of this war, to save them all?” Helga countered, itching for an argument to help suppress her sudden feeling of helplessness. But Cilas didn’t bite. He simply ignored her, and started reaching for things that belonged to Quentin and Anders to stuff inside a bag.
“Everywhere we go, we see glaring examples of the powerful taking advantage of the weak,” Helga pressed on, making her way back towards Fio Doro’s bedroom. “The greedy and selfish do everything in their power for credits, including selling out their own to the lizards. They get their boon and retire to the mountains of Meluvia, Casan, and wherever they think they can hide from us.”
“Places like here,” Raileo added. “They come to places like here, where they can become Garson Sunveil, profiteering off the tenements where no one above him will ask any questions. You get so rich, even if they catch you, you’ll never be made to pay for it.”
“Oh, he will pay,” Cilas assured him. “You don’t touch our property and live freely once we’re onto your scent. Finding Vray and his ilk is precisely what the Alliance has ESO operators for. If not us, then the Jumper Agency will put someone on him, and you know as well as I do that they don’t fail. Vray would’ve been better off staying here and taking our questions.”
Helga shrugged dismissively. “Sunveil’s just a tiny atom in a universe of treachery. That Inginus captain has an excuse. Like Lamia Brafa and Bira Sun, his mind was likely stolen by the Geralos. A part of me wonders if this was how we lost Vestalia. The lizards, seeing how self-important humanity was, invaded the minds of our leaders, who in turn made our troops stand down until it was too late to push back against the invaders.”
“From the archives I’ve seen, that is exactly how we were defeated so fast,” Raileo confirmed. “Vestalia’s leaders sat on their hands when the dropships came, many telling their people the lizards were ‘friendly visitors,’ despite all the warnings from Meluvia. We were lost before the first of their dropships broke atmosphere over Vestalia.”
“And here we are again.” Helga spread her arms dramatically. “Trusting a few powerful humans to stick to the mission of winning back our planet. Sometimes I feel like our little team is the only thing stopping a system-wide implosion of our fleet. Captain Retzo Sho’s enforcers. Maker take us if the old man was to ever become the unthinkable.”
“That happens, he would find a way to airlock himself,” Cilas said. “That, I can say is a fact. Same goes for me. They corrupt my mind, I would expect one of you to do me the honors. No Nighthawk can afford to cross over, you understand this?”
“Of course we do, Commander,” Raileo said. “Think I want to face any of us with a lizard at the helm of that mind? Thype. Raileo Lei as a lizard; that’s enough to give myself nightmares.”
“I just wish we could do more.” Helga sighed. “Something other than hunting these one-offs. Something bigger, and more meaningful. Something like hitting the generator on one of those elusive lizard battleships. Disable even one of those and the lizards would be forced to play at defense, indefinitely. But what do I know? Those are my thoughts anyway … a pilot’s solution, as you always tell me. I just want to make a mark in this war, not just go through the motions.”
“Every little bit counts, Hel,” Cilas assured her. “The only thing missing for you to understand this is acknowledgment from the greater Alliance. We Nighthawks are known by our council. Captain Sho gets his direct orders from them, not the Admiralty. That is how we ended up on Sanctuary. You won’t hear it while you’re out here in the muck, but in those warm cushy offices where the big decisions are made, we’re one of the game pieces. None of this is unimportant.”
“Well, that’s pretty good to hear,” Raileo said, though Helga wasn’t entirely convinced.
She tampered with the orb projecting the photographs of Fio’s memories until she figured out how to power it down. Then Helga faltered, becoming lightheaded, her legs no longer able to keep her standing, falling face-first onto the bed. Outside Fio’s room, the other Nighthawks kept talking about the Alliance, unaware of her state, and her voice being gone, Helga found that she couldn’t call for help.
No pain, just silence, and the inability to move her limbs. Vision blurred, then it all went white, and before she knew it she was unconscious, though to an outsider it would appear that she had simply fallen asleep.
She dreamed of being in the same starport as before, staring down at the black tops of her boots against the filthy checkered floor below them. Looking up, she saw a Marine dropship that wasn’t the standard Britz-SPZ, but the older Genesian R20-Lodestar, the same model she had seen transporting the Harridan’s Marines to Basce City. Recognizing this, Helga felt the dream had concocted this scenario using her fractured memories from the past three days.
Lucid, but unable to move fast enough to override this manifestation in her mind, she was forced to play passenger along for the ride. She looked up and recognized the sky, too perfect to be real with its soft clouds against the backdrop of a colorful skyline imitating sunset. Several panels projecting this holographic facade glitched erratically, killing the illusion, and letting Helga know this wasn’t Neroka but another colony or privately-owned station.
The dropship was an eggshell color, streaked in Helysian blue on her bow, wing tips, and landing gear. These details made it different than the one they’d planned to liberate to take back to Ursula, if she was truly asleep. Looking around, she noticed for the first time that she was among strangers, very official-looking Genesians in robes, bordered by their personal guards wearing the same armor as the mercenaries from Sunveil’s compound. Armed civilian professionals.
A hatch opened below the dropship, and a ramp descended, from which an imposing Alliance Marine emerged to descend and wait at crisp attention as twelve other men poured out to form lines before him. A tall Genesian was the last to emerge, in a black formal suit with a short cape, a lighter grey like his buttons, cuffs, and sideburns. He was no Marine, but they showed him deference as he hurried out towards Helga, glancing about worriedly, as if he expected some trouble.
“Welcome home, Councilman,” a Cel-toc barely got out before being shoved to the side by the Genesian, who was obviously in a hurry.
“Can you verify that it’s him, Ate?” Ina’s voice came through her earpiece, snapping Helga’s attention away from the retreating man.
“It is him,” she replied mechanically, though she didn’t know who she was referring to, or why she lied to their pilot Ina Reysor. Then the scene faded to nothing, and she opened her eyes to the off-white walls of Fio Doro’s bedroom, where Cilas Mec came into focus, leaning against the wall near the doorway.
“All finished in here?” he asked, and she sat up quickly,
nodding her confirmation, though too confused to qualify any of it. Past the tingling of her scalp and the memory of the nightmare, she worried that something was wrong with her brain, a possible side effect of the revita-shot, or the stims she had been given during their brief stay on the Velecrance.
“I’m sorry, Commander, I must’ve passed out,” she whispered, making to stand, but petrified with the thought that doing so would cause her to collapse, leading to him questioning whether she was capable of flying in her condition.
“The commander’s absent at the moment. It’s just Cilas, Hel. We’re actually alone, if you can believe it.” He walked over to sit next to her on the bed and placed a warm hand over one of hers, gently squeezing it.
“Where’s Ray?” she asked, sitting up and inwardly celebrating the fact that she accomplished this without any signs of discomfort.
“Said his wounds were hurting him and he needed some fresh air. He’s exploring the tier while we finish up here, and when you’re ready we can just reach him over comms.”
Helga smiled. “You know he’s full of schtill, right? How long was I out for?”
“Half an hour, forty-five minutes, I’m not sure,” Cilas replied, reaching over to brush gently at her hair.
“Are you alright?” She met his eyes, showing concern for his state. Even now, despite his attempts at playing the doting boyfriend in this strange room, she saw a pain behind his eyes that had remained since the raid.
“We’re all tired,” was all he would give her, looking away quickly to mask the reality of his mental state.
“We’re all thyped up,” Helga corrected him, wanting to explain that she hadn’t been napping, but had indeed collapsed which led to a dream, or “vision,” as Sundown would call it, of a station somewhere she had never visited. How could she tell him this, however, without going into the deeper explanation of what she was? This simply was not the time or place, and with the time Ray had gifted them, it didn’t feel fair to Cilas, who she could see was inwardly hurting.
