Renaissance » Places

         Julian Russell looked about and smiled. They were all here now. It was time. Scott and Athena had just arrived as well. Julian stood before his team, and the other crew members, knowing what was ahead. He hadn't any idea, however, how it would all end, how the journey would close.

"Your attention, please?"

There would be casualties. How they would turn up was a matter to be determined later, but for now there was time to speak with the team, the team that might or might not make it through the coming conflict.

"For some of you, home lies at the end of the road," he began, pacing. "For others, the case is not so. However, your help is definitely more than appreciated."

He looked to Tyriel as he said this.

"We're in for a fight like no other. The Congregate is like no foe humanity, or any alien race, I believe, has ever faced. They seem invincible, an insurmountable obstacle."

He looked to each of them as he went on: Andreah, Punknife, Greer, Jane, Tyriel, and even the two extremely talkative non-team members up ahead, Tienette and Frank. He knew Athena would do fine, but had a feeling Scott might be needing a little more than just help from Tyriel. He was getting a bit older.

"But every evil has their Waterloo," said the captain. "Take that to heart. This opponent will break, and it won't be because they're weak. It'll be because we are strongly united under a single banner."

He looked down to Jaron and said, "Greer, take us out."

         "Now it is on purpose" she spat back insistently. Who was he to talk about her hair, he didn't look like he even shampooed. She shifted her weight impatiently, waiting for something to happen so she could go back to work, or a hairbrush.

         Frank looked to the two newcomers when Tienette snickered. He couldn't care less what she thought. The newcomers saluted the captain, and for a second he wondered if he should have done it as well, but he didn't care to get up there and present himself for a pointless ritual. At least he could say that he had not been told to do so. He turned a curious eye to Tienette when she messed with her hair, then he smiled and looked at the guy with the weird arm and back at her. "know him?" he wispered

         Andreah was only becoming more and more astounded. Her eyes widened at the prospect and she immediately straightened up from her slightly-slouched position. This jostled her shoulder joint and she winced once more, but quickly forgot her pain soon after.

"Honestly?! Doctor, you're the best! I owe you big time! X-2, no more hide and seek!" As she was speaking, the little robot came waddling out from under a table and stood at the doctor's feet. Sudden eagerness was in Andreah's voice, "Thank you so much!"

X-2 tried to mimic her in his tinny metal voice, mispronouncing words here and there, "th-ank yo-ou so much."

         Captain Russel let his hand fall on Jaron's shoulder. He had just found him and was smiling as the new pilot exmained the ship's tech in awe.

"How do you like it?" the captian asked. "You'll be taking us out very soon. We'll be headed for our next destination in about fifteen."

         Scott snorted and said, "I'll be back. Remember, channel 7331 if you need to reach me."

He departed, leaving the two to their work.

         Julian was numb when Doug finished. The reporters did scatter, but Captain Russell new the truth well enough.

"We won't be receiving a very friendly welcome when we get back," he said in a low voice. He turned to Penknife and added, "I didn't think it'd end well either way. Er...thanks, I suppose."

His eyes wavered. Every pulse of blood that ran through him seemed to be just a passing, weak wave of energy. He wasn't all there right then, off in the future seeing to "boos" and hisses that would come upon their return--

--if they even returned.

         Douglas smiled back at Jane, but slightly nervously, as he was unsure of how lucky the team was going to get.

Once the Captain dismissed his crew, Douglas stood, pushed his chair back under the table and coughed loudly to remind Cap that he was also an officer, and that Jack and Louis were possibly lower ranks than he was. He left the room somewhat disturbed by Cap's half-baked plan.

As he left Cap's office he noticed Jane waiting for him outside, sitting on a chair in the waiting room. Douglas sat down beside her and let out a deep sigh.
"I really hope the Cap's backup plan is better than this one." He said quietly, "I might just be pessimistic, I'm sure he didn't reach the rank of Captain without having any tactical ability, but this plan seems to be clutching a single string of luck. You're our tactician, what do you think about this? Have you got any suggestions as to how to make this better?"

         Jane had listened to what everyone was saying. She didn't want to speak until she knew everyone was done. Straightening out her uniform, she stood making her way over to the display in the back of the room. She stood there for quiet sometime as she listened to what Douglas was saying and then the argument the Captain had thrown back at him. She rubbed her fingers along her eye brows as she listened to the two men. She didn't even hear what the other girl had said because she was running through so many thoughts at once.

As soon as she heard the Captain ask for anymore questions, she turned back towards the rest of her team. "I have no questions, but concerns. As the tactitian of this team, I am one to advise how we approach certain situations, Captain. By approach, I mean the best way to protect our soldiers. With us pretty much going on a suicide mission, we need to conserve as much manpower as possible. In order to successfully do this, we would need to form two large groups. The issue with the this is that not many men or women want to be on this mission. Therefore, we don't have the luxury of being able to split into two groups to search this planet."

She let what she was saying sink in with her fellow crew members before continuing. "Since the terrain is mostly desert, we are bound to lose one or more of us due to dehydration. Yes, we could easily prevent the casualty by carrying them along, but how do you expect a group of three people to carry that one fallen soldier and protect themselves in the way that is most fit for the situation on a possible hostile planet. We are going in blind. If you were to supply me a map of the actual planet, I might be able to pinpoint a certain area that would best match the possibility of an alien civilization based on the history of all cultures."

She sat back down at the seat she had previously left, letting her elbows rest on her knees. "I'm sorry for so much concern, Captain. It's my job to think of the impossible and make it into an option of possibility. The Unduli say that they ran across this race. Every race known in the galaxy changes. For god's sake, look at us. Look how much we've changed."

         "Your rank doesn't determine your worth." Douglas told Jane, "Otherwise I'd actually have some respect for Admiral Kuro."

Douglas didn't resist as Jane grabbed his arm and pulled him from his seat, it would be a good idea to leave the bar before Jane made the mistake of drinking even more alchohol. Douglas was still perfectly sober, but he was much larger than Jane was, and she'd had a glass more than him.
"It certainly would be good to get to know who we're working with." Douglas agreed, "The Sunstrider's a big ship though, we'll need to keep an eye on the time though, it's getting late. So, what do you want to look at first."

         Alex had the beast's head in his sights. His eyes were sharply aligned with the target. Through the rusty earpiece he heard, "We're ready when you are, Chief."

He pushes the barrel of the gun just an inch out the window now. It was a patrol group. The leader wouldn't go down easy. Two shots to the head would expose the brain of the red-skinned menace, then the men under the street would activate the device. If it worked, the tide of the conflict in Manhattan might turn. If it didn't...

"Remember," he whispered in a low, rough voice, "this is just a prototype. If it works, we'll modify it to get through their skin for next time around."

"Got it, sir."

"Just make this one count."

It had taken five years of studying the patterns of the biosynthetic organs of the jecktar. Half organic, half machine, they were a force to be reckoned with. But now, they would regret having evolved in the way they did.

"Steady," Chief whispered. The patrol was drawing nearer. "I've almost got him."

There was silence on the comm channel. They were too close now. There was some sort of neural reaction they had with electronic pulses that made them able to hear them, and that included--.

POP, POP! The jecktar leader was shouting in pain, whirling around yelling. His team veered about, looking for the source of the blaster bolts.

"Punch it!"

VROOM! The Earth trembles as the device emitted its pulse. The jecktar leader kept yelling, and kept yelling, AND--.

"How long should it take?!" Alex snapped, staring with horror at the still standing enemy.

"It should've happened by now!"

Damn it all! It didn't work!

"Pull out, pull out through the back!"

He lined up his sights and sent a final shot into the head of leader, dropping him.

"Go, go now!" Alex cried.

"We're trying, it's just--SHIdavfadbiubib!"

Alexander Ethan threw his earpiece to the ground as the piercing disconnection noise rang out. He rushed down the building's stairwell, knowing there was little time and he had to make it into the restaurant where the group was hiding out. It was the kind that had steps leading underground, from the old days, before flying cars and all. He opened the front door and peaked down the road.

"YAGH!"

He charged, firing on the jecktar as accurately as he could. After letting off ten shots, two went down. The last eight in the group were already down in the restaurant. Explosions were going off. Chief charged down below, and when his gun was uplifted it appeared that only three beings were remaining: two jecktar and--.

"SAM!"

He fired off five well placed shots and the two jecktar went down. Sam was bleeding underneath one of their bodies. Alex dragged him out from underneath corpse and held him in his arms.

"Chief..." Sam uttered, barely breathing, "...we did the best we...I'm sorry...there were so..."

"It's my fault," Alex said, his eyes wavering as small trickles of water left the edges of his eyes. "I shouldn't have tried this. If we'd stuck with conventional methods..."

"We had blasters...down here. We wouldn't've made it anyway. You were the..."

He couldn't get the last words out. He had already left the body behind. Alexander Ethan sat quiet for a very long time.

He was now alone, one man against an army. No team, no allies, nothing. All that remained was darkness of New York, New York.

         Jane had little patience for games, but she could tell by the Captain's words that he had nothing to do with her denial. She sat in the chair in front of his desk, bringing all of her hair to one side. She bit her lip hard as she made eye contact with the captain. "I'm sorry, Captain for the misunderstanding."

She had let herself go again. She didn't think about the percussions of her storming into his office. She could have just waited like Louis had told her to do, but this was all she had now. This mission had become everything to do. "I.." She tried to gather be thoughts before she spoke. "I need this, sir. More than anybody has needed anything. I need to be on your ship when it leaves." She licked her lips that had dried and began to crack from the lack of moisture in the air.

"Sir, I apologize for my lack of professionalism. I beg the chance to prove myself on your team. Please, sir."

         Douglas trudged wearily through the lifeless, artificial streets of the Sunstrider, tired and weary. Douglas always found it rather odd how he found paperwork far more tiresome that combat and piloting starcraft. He would always come out of such situations filled with adrenaline and raring for more, never glad to be free of the ordeal as he was now. He was in desperate need of a drink, which was why he had resorted to visiting the Republic Bar. It may be a watering hole for treacherous scum, but not everyone there could be that bad, right?

How wrong Douglas had been. He was now surrounding by angry, violent drunkards, some even armed with knives. How had he plunged himself into this mess?

Douglas' arrival had hardly been flamboyent, but he had still attracted a large amount of attention. Douglas wasn't sure whether it was his prosthetic eye and arm that had drawn the attention to him or whether it was that he was a new face. As he sat down at the bar, many eyes followed his every movement, tring to determine how much of a troublemaker he was compared to the rest of the bargoers. His appearance had probably fooled them into believing that he was more of a troublemaker than the rest of them put together. Was that an asset or a hinderance? Douglas hoped it was the former.
"Oi, you!" a rough, cockney voice called out from the other side of the bar, "You're the Penknife bloke, right?"
"I am, what's it to you?" Douglas asked as he turned to look at the bearer of the voice.
He was a tall, muscular, bald man about 5 years older than Douglas with a large scar on his forehead.
"I've heard about you, Penknife." the man chuckled, "I've heard you're not much of a fighter, that you always try and weasel your way out of conflict and find middle ground. And to think you're already the rank of Commander with an attitude like that..."
"Being a soldier doesn't mean killing anything that moves, it means resolving conflicts." Douglas retorted, "Killing the enemy's people isn't going to help us gain a peace treaty with them."
"You're only saying that because you're a little pussy." the cockney man sneered.
"I'd be quiet if I were you." Douglas snarled, beginning to lose his temper.
"What are you going to do, snap at my ankles?!"
In a flash, Douglas was off his stool and had the man pinned to the floor, squirming in an attempt to escape. Douglas ordered him to cease his efforts immediately, but the man continued to try and throw Douglas off him, so Douglas slammed his head against the floor, knocking him out senseless.
"Anyone else want to test my patience?" Douglas asked, spreading his arms out wide, proving his wasn't afraid of any more challenges.
The threat didn't have it's desired effect. Almost everyone in the bar turned on Douglas, all those who weren't up for a fight fled the scene.

Douglas considered firing a few shots to try and control the crowd, but that would likely increase their appetitie for violence. He knew he couldn't kill anyone because of the horrible effect it would have on everyone. Newspaper headlines would read "Naval Commander Executes Innocents in Drunken Brawl!", "Police Brutality Continues to Escalate!" and other titles disgracing him. The friends and family of the victims would have to cope and he would instantly be fired and locked up. He was going to have to settle this the old fashioned way, with muscle. Douglas pounced on a drunkard and hurled him into his friend, sending them both sprawling. Douglas had a few supporters, but not as many as enemies. The straw that broke the camel's back was a chair Douglas hurled into the mob in an attempt to break it up. All hell broke loose.

Douglas walked out of the bar sweating and full to the brim with adrenaline, still ready to fight anything that came at him. He removed a telecom from his jacket and immediately requested that the mess in the bar was cleaned up as quickly as possible. This fight would likely be all over the news the next morning, but that was something Douglas could live with.