Mission 10 - Breakdown - Part 2

  TA419 - 03/04

  TSU Troy-Class Assault-Carrier Curadh, Canteen

  "Hey, you doin' any better today?" Moncha asked, taking a seat opposite Chas in the ship's canteen. The boy grunted back, causing Moncha to frown.

  "Bad dreams," Yazan smirked one seat up.

  "Definitely," Gemon chorused.

  Chas shot the two a dirty look, "Leave it."

  The two ensigns grinned but did as asked.

  Moncha's frown deepened, and he could tell his wingmen’s banter wasn’t really earnest today either; "Well, that wouldn't be unusual; sometimes talking helps."

  It took everything Chas had not to rise to his feet and walk away while shouting choice expletives; instead, he put his all into remaining calm and not acting like some sort of outraged teenager; "I'm fine, boss, honest."

  "Alright," Moncha replied.

  He studied the young man, staring down at his breakfast. Over the years, he'd dealt with a lot of struggling subordinates, both in the ship's marine unit and fellow pilots. He fancied the latter easier in that he could more readily relate to their traumas. Still, every time was case by case - a different approach almost every instance - but Chas was a special case. Neither a marine nor one of his wingmen; Chas was a Casnel pilot. What would they do if such a pilot failed in battle? And how should he go about looking after such a person? Could he really treat Chas as just a pilot?

  For now, he decided to leave it. The chances they'd face Kigen again soon were low based on the pattern so far. And next time he'd just have to take on the enemy ace first before anyone else got hurt. That brought a slight grin to Moncha’s face. An opponent of that magnitude - they’d only briefly crossed blades on Defence Platform 2, but he could tell - that would be fun. The thought was almost enough to take his mind off the struggling boy across from him…

  TA419 - 03/04,

  Remembrance Heavy Cruiser Class, ‘Palladium’, Commander’s Office.

  “Knock knock,” an ever-controlled voice sounded from the open doorway of the Scarlet Scourge’s office. Scarlet glanced up from her paperwork, “Bane? Hell, you doin here.”

  The first-ranked made his way into what he’d once lovingly called the linen closet; it was a short trip; his overcoat caught on the tight-packed furniture as he passed.

  This time, he elected to pick up the cheap plastic chair opposite Scarlet’s desk, laying it up against the side wall and flopping into it.

  He smiled sheepishly at the Scourge, “Social call?” he hazarded.

  Scarlet grinned wolfishly, “Got tired of all the staring, did ya? The big hero of Phase Two, hehehehe.”

  Kigen winced, his ponytail moving with the motion, “Don’t you start too.”

  “Nawwww, is the mighty ace brought low by praise,” Scarlet cooed, leaning forward over the table.“I didn’t do anything at all worthy of so much praise. I carried out a mission,” Kigen said rather more firmly than needed.

  “You fought three Casnels and fifty Vijiaks solo!”

  Kigen frowned, “No, I fought maybe thirty Vijiaks maximum, and I doubt I killed all of them. See how the story is already getting overblown?”

  “And three Casnels,” Scarlet repeated.

  The Supreme Commander sighed, “Technically, I maybe did that, yes. Is that really worthy of such a fuss? Were it not for that experimental audio transmission module, I’d hardly have had such an easy time.”

  Scarlet leant back into her chair, letting her amusement settle and giving her comrade a more serious look, “I mean, there's lot’sa of ways to downplay it, but people won’t see it like that. You saw the fuss they made over me at Platform 3, and I had a whole fleet with me and just one Casnel to fight.”

  “A Casnel you fought on your own strength, you mean?” Kigen added.

  “I mean sure, I guess? Give anyone a Chevalier and some steroids, and they could do that.”

  For the first time since entering the room, Kigen’s expression changed from his slightly broody look to one of genuine surprise; “You’re kidding, right? You dodged a friggin railgun repeatedly, with no cover!”

  “Ya, and you defeated three Casnels all at once!” The Scourge shot back; both their voices had risen before they knew it.

  An embarrassed heat crossed each ace's cheeks, followed by a light chuckle.

  “Perhaps it's a warrior's fate to belittle their own achievements and focus on the faults?” Kigen mused.

  “Could be,” Scarlet nodded rather sagely, “or we could both be total frauds. Ya never know.”

  Now Kigen really did feel a slight smile on his lips, “Well, we’re doing rather alright for two frauds, in that case. Maybe all the praise isn’t so misplaced after all.”

  Scarlet returned the little grin. Talking to her always made him feel happier. That crimson hair, her rough but honest words, the way he could let his guard down in her presence.

  “You can’t bum off here long ‘am afraid,” The Scourge added with a sigh, “I’m off on more raids. Seems we still got’ta good few planned before we look to that last Defence Platform.”

  “Right you are,” Kigen replied, some of his usual stoicism returning automatically at the mention of ‘work’, “Not long now, though. Moreover, the Admiral believes he has the TSU spies narrowed down. Our raids will be more efficient than ever soon.”

  “That’s somen’ at least. Death penalty?”

  “Firing squad, I believe, is how you word it in our case,” Kigen said, “Of course, since we could be viewed as terrorists, ‘execution’ might be apt too.”

  “Aye,” Scarlet added plainly. He wasn’t sure about her feelings about such methods, but they definitely didn’t seem to fill her with joy. He could appreciate that, too. In Kigen’s opinion, The Scarlet Scourge was a rather kind woman for one in such a position as they.

  “You know, Scarlet, not just anyone could do what you did. Machines and drugs - none of that changes your skills; those are your own.”

  In the laughable small ‘office’, the two made a peaceful eye contact. Scarlet seemed uncomfortable at the assertions, perhaps, but she also seemed alright with not denying it for once.

  With a thoughtful look, she finally replied, “You know I get the shakes these days? It’s manageable but not great. But, but ya. I haven’t had to use them, Enhancers, once yet, only lesser drugs. Maybe there is a little somen’ to this skill thing.”

  Kigen was surprised. He’d hoped she might start to see that someday, but still. It was a pleasant kind of surprise.

  “But–” she added, with a growing sly smile, “--if ;am to start, just start, mind you! …Start considering that possibility, then I want you to do the same flyboy. You’re not just one big ugly ball of dishonour; you’re plenty skilled yere’self.”

  Kigen returned the smile but couldn’t quite bring himself to agree verbally. Maybe she was right. He didn’t doubt his skill per se; he was the rightful head of the Kigen school of swordsmanship; that much was irrefutable. Even so… Even so.

  TA419 - 04/04,

  TSU Assault Carrier-Curadh, Service Elevator.

  It was a familiar scene. Another raid in progress, another skirmish the brave Curadh would go and stop. Chas would take a quick trip down the elevator to the hangar - today with Moncha’s two wingmen, Gemon and Yazan, moving bodybuilder statues more so than men - and then go to one more life-or-death battle, just like every other day.

  But things were anything but familiar to young Chas Collins. He had lost. He had gotten people killed. He was angry. He was in pain and, sad and confused. He was put simply, in no state to return to the routine of stopping small Remembrance raids. And yet, what else could he do? Even if it meant he could end up facing Kigen once more…

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  He craned his neck to stare at the two hulking men with bloodshot, sleepless eyes. They didn’t talk all that much, but they weren't unfriendly either. He hazarded a question: " Hey so, why do you guys fight?" Chas asked a little shyly.

  "Huh?" Gemon replied

  Chas sighed; he'd hesitated exactly because of these two’s pattened lack of conversational tact, "Nevermi--" he began.

  "’ Cause it's our job," Yazan broke in, looking thoughtful.

  Chas blanched, "That's it?"

  The dynamic duo shrugged, "We were conscripted after the war to help fill back in the numbers. Wasn't some big career plan or nothin'."

  "So you'll quit when your contract ends?"

  "Contract, huh? That ran out already, I think," Gemon laughed.

  "Seems to suit us both fine, so why not stick around," Yazan added, likewise grinning.

  Chas could barely believe his ears at such flippant answers.

  "B-but. BUT you could die, any day! And you have to kill people regularly and-- Surely you have a better reason than 'just because'!"

  The two men gave him an almost sympathetic look, as though his more complicated thought patterns were to be pitied, "You die crossing the street to an out-of-control truck."

  "Or an unlucky lightning bolt."

  "Or a random disease."

  "I hear vending machines kill people sometimes, too."

  "You know that's not what I mean! Those things are all exceptions. Being a soldier is like asking to die!" Chas shouted.

  "Alright, what about you then," Gemon said.

  "Me? I... I couldn't just run away after the attack on Vanadis beta base."

  "Right you are. Very noble of ya',' Yazan replied with a firm nod, "But that was like, an 'instigation'. Why do you keep fighting?"

  "What? What's that supposed to mean?" Chas replied. Something about the question hurt.

  "Well, we fight ‘cause we was’ conscripted, you cause you saw war up close. None of us have very good reasons to keep fighting, though, right? I just like it, it suits me well. Follow my boss's orders and watch my buddy's backs. What more can I ask for?"

  "Pft, were not even remotely the same. You two, you damn well share a single bloody brain cell!" Chas shot back.

  The two shrugged in infuriating sync, "Why are you the one getting upset so?"

  ****

  TA419 - 05/04,

  Space Around TSU Warship Refueling Output D-50.

  "Coming up on the installation now, Captain," Ensign Vega said.

  Captain Synapse nodded, "Open communication lines."

  After a few moments, a couple of slightly blurry faces popped up on the large main view screen of the Curadh’s bridge - positioned just above the open windows that lined the curved side of the semi-circle space - "It's him, the rogue captain," one of the two said. The other winced and looked like he might bop the outspoken first on the head, "Shut up, we’re connected, you idiot."

  Synapse's brow creased. The reactions to his 'rogue ' force varied from installation to installation. The smallest, especially those civilian-run, were usually the happiest to see him, sometimes even offering to resupply the fleet whenever they succeeded in saving them.

  Other stations, crewed by military men, particularly those with no connection to Lord Grand Admiral Columbae's defence fleets, had gone so far as to try and reject Synapse. However, their tune usually changed upon being saved. This base was reacting the third way, a mix of awe and neutrality. Low-ranked soldiers with no battle experience, simply trying to stay out of trouble.

  "Please state your, umm, business. You're currently an AWOL[modern_footnote]Absent Without Leave[/modern_footnote] ship," The foremost man on the screen said.

  In some ways, Synapse disliked this type the most. Indecision was not desirable in a soldier. Still, the man was probably a leader in his own way, worried for his troops and almost definitely aware that the Curadh's presence here would foretell trouble soon to come. Synapse decided to break it off efficiently as a small mercy; "We believe this refuelling station will come under attack very shortly. My forces will be guarding it for the time being. Should a conflict arise, we advise you to evacuate. We will collect your lifeboats in the event your installation is destroyed. That is all," he finished with a nod to the Curadh’s towering XO.

  "Cut communication," Kriegar bellowed on cue.

  "Eh, what, EHH!?" the man on the screen managed rather pathetically before his face disappeared.

  "Sir, enemy force detected. Approaching the station rapidly!"

  "All Vijaik's launch, get a permetre in front of the station. All ships tighten formation. Get me a visual."

  Kriegar began calling the order a second time, and within moments, the lights of Curadh's four mechs whizzed past the bridge screen, soon followed by the machines from their other escort ships, mostly blocky MBT Mk2s

  The rogue unit couldn't really be called that anymore. At thirteen ships large, they had amassed quite the little flotilla. It had benefits; right now, just five ships were present, and the rest were split into two groups and sent to the four nearest possible alternative targets.

  In effect, upping the group's ability to intercept the enemy greatly, no doubt the Admiral's plan for them. However, the size and infamy of the group had begun to concern Synapse.

  When this war ended, Grand Admiral Columbae planned to vouch for the Curadh, true enough, but how far could his vouching go for the rest of these ships? Each had crews who only understood the truth of this operation in part. Would the Admiral’s enemies demand these escort ships and their crews face court material? And even if they didn't, how well would the force slip back into regular duty? Back into the quagmire of bureaucracy, which slowed TSU response times so much that such issues were the very cause of the rogue unit’s necessity.

  But maybe that was ok? Synapse was not oblivious to the Grand Admiral's growing support, nor the support directed at himself specially. The common troops saw them as heroes; even the public was starting to catch wind of the 'Synapse Fleet' and units publically under the Admiral, like Major Elton's ship and Vice-Admiral Louise's efforts.

  ‘Why not completely get rid of the extremist element inside TSU? With the support we are amassing and the Admirals's existing rank at the top of TSU's space forces. We could do it. We could out corrupt politicians and put down the officers vying for more extreme oppression. Perhaps we could even make some sort of peace with Abahile, prevent more wars, more defeats like Defence Platform 2…’

  Synapse mentally slapped himself. That was dangerous thinking, inappropriate for a soldier. His job was to stop this war. Leave peace to those with better heads than he.

  "What in the?" a Lt. Kappi murmured, breaking Synapse’s reverie. While he had been contemplating the larger picture, the war continued as it was wont to do.

  His ship's and Moncha's mechs now surrounded the little refuelling station, while they could now make out a Remembrance fleet of ten or so vessels in the distance. What had caught Kappi and everyone else's attention was the enemy fleet’s formation, or lack thereof. Nine ships had simply stopped, while the last one approached slowly with a white flag.

  "Search the open frequencies," Kriegar instructed with an empathic swing of one of his muscular arms.

  The triangular-shaped Abhailen frigate was approaching faster now and projecting an open channel communique.

  Synapse gave the comms operator a look, and a moment later, the connection was routed straight to his chair's console, "This is the Captain of TSU Assault-Carrier Curadh. State your intentions, Remembrance vessel."

  ".......Captain Synapse. We have come to respect you. Your force fights with bravery and honour," came the reply, the voice slow, as though struggling to speak a foreign language, not to mention the unexpected praise of the message.

  It was true that Abhaile had its own language, a combination of its many cultures, but almost the entire populace had also learned the common tongue that TSU stipulated. Synapse wondered if the speaker was simply old or from somewhere rural and had learned the language late in life.

  "State your intentions, decelerate immediately," he replied sternly, but internally, he couldn't have felt more elated. Was this real, some incredible universal serendipity that they might find a unit considering it just as he'd been thinking about peace? Had Remembrance been so impressed by the rouge unit's response to their campaign, that they were considering a truce? It seemed unlikely, and yet, just maybe?

  "Captain Sir, that ship is approaching fast," a second voice said right in his ear.

  He frowned, glancing at the top priority channel each Casnel had to him, "Follow your commander's orders, lieutenant," he replied tersely.

  "We would like to open negotiations," the radio buzzed. Synapse could hardly believe it… indeed, it was too good to be true, wasn't it?

  The slow speech, the speed the ship was approaching, faster by the second. The out-of-nowhere amiable tone. Why would they want a truce when they had blown up Platform 2 just days ago?

  He knew what he had to do, to fire all cannons before that thing could creep up and ram straight into the listening station. And yet... "Negotiate what? And I repeat, decelerate, now."

  "Captain, JLt.Chas is moving, Sir!" young Vega said before the enemy voice could reply.

  "What?! Get Moncha online now!”

  "We wish to negotiate–" the voice said again, oblivious to the rising tension of the Curadh's bridge. Oblivious, seemingly, to what Synapse could see out his bridge’s windows. A short, white Casnel with a distinctive head like that of a jet-fighters rapidly closing in on the little frigate.

  "--the terms of your surr--" the voice got no further. Chas's Casnel landed on top of the little ship and unleashed a torrent of point-blank fire. The Casnel’s body juddered with each round from the rifle. The ship beneath spewed up shards of shattered metal in response. Once the boy had seemingly burned out the gun, the Casnel roughly kicked off and floated back.

  In moments, the frigate evaporated, it’s metal walls bulging out with eruptive force into an almighty explosion. An explosion notably too large for the damage sustained. Clearly, it had been filled with explosives.

  "Sir, the enemy fleet is breaking off. They are in retreat," Vega said softly.

  "Ha! Abhailen bastards, you think we'd fall for that shit, do you?!" Chas's ragged and harsh voice shouted over the comms so loud the captain could hear it from his seat.