Valiant

[Valiant #5: Accatria]

Log Date: 9/3/12763

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso, Lucanthiline

Event Log: Lucanthiline

M.V. Accatria: Forward Bridge

12:18pm SGT

I never get used to how downright ugly mercenary ships are.

It’s a lot of things. How some of the floors are nothing but metal grates; how pipes stick out of the walls at weird angles, or how the covered wiring twists and winds along the corridors. Sometimes it’s the smell; you can smell whenever there’s a breach in the coolant pipes or the sickly, manufactured scent of warp drive chemicals. But if I had to narrow it down to one thing, it’d definitely be the colors.

For some reason, mercs just love the interiors of their ships to have the rugged, gritty, shit-stain brown color palette. It’s actually a collection of browns and rusty reds, and I swear on my buttons that every single merc ship I’ve ever been on must’ve been designed by the same interior colorist.

Anyway, that’s the color of the halls I’m running through right now as I make my way to the bridge of the battlecruiser I’m currently on. It’s one of the main warships in the Dussel mercforce, and it was the one that was supposed to get the Boss and 5377 off Valcorria. We’d had the exit all planned out, with aliases and alibis ready for when they reached the starport.

Judging by the way that everyone’s scrambling, things haven’t gone according to plan.

“All personnel, to your posts. I repeat, all personnel, to your posts. Prepare for low orbit engagement. This is not an exercise.”

Tony’s voice over the speaker system is calm, neutral, and collected, despite the urgency of the words themselves. Dodging around a bridge officer and then squeezing past a clunky, many-armed Cyber from the engineering deck, I finally reach the bridge doors and fumble around in my pockets, pulling out a keychain and trying to figure out which of my many passkeys is the one that holds my permissions for the mercforce. When I can’t figure it out, I just shove the whole keychain against the sensor pad and shuffle it around until the light turns green, and the doors slide open.

Inside, the bridge is a stationary sort of busy. Everybody’s at their consoles, their eyes fixed on their screens while they talk on side channels to their respective departments, occasionally shouting across the bridge to each other. The captain’s chair in the center of the bridge is empty, but Tony’s sitting at the adjutant’s console just in front of it, coordinating the whole of the battlecruiser.

“Tony, what’s going on?” I call, weaving around the consoles and making my way over to hers. “Did something happen? Is the Boss safe?”

“Navcom, I need exit solutions in the next two minutes. We need alternate jump routes if the preferred becomes unavailable. Tacticom, what’s the holdup? I only see four turrets warming.” Tony says without pulling her pale blue eyes away from her screen. “Hallo, Luci. I am busy right now. You will need to allow me a moment.” Turning in her chair, she calls a command across the bridge. “Tariel, close the sidebar!”

I look across the bridge to where an old merc with pointed ears and curled salt-and-pepper hair is leaning back in her chair, feet kicked up on her console. In between puffs of her vape, she’s drawling to a voice chat window on the side of her console. “Look hon, I don’t think he’s coming back. He took the couch. That’s more than a breakup, that’s an ‘it’s over’.”

A rare flash of anger crosses Tony’s face as she’s ignored, and she stands, shouting across the bridge with an intensity that’s surprising for her svelte stature. “TARIEL! CLOSE THE SIDEBAR AND GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR!” 

“Look, sweetie, I’ve gotta go, it’s gettin’ a little busy over here.” Tariel drawls without acknowledging Tony, taking her boots off the console. “I’ll call you back tonight. No, no, I’ll call you, don’t worry about it. Yup. Bye.” Taking another drag of her vape, she leans forward, poking idly at her console. “Keying in on comms. Looks like Valcorria local defense is communicating with the CURSE interdictor vessel in low orbit.”

“Let’s hope they don’t plan on activating the defense net.” Tony says, sitting back down. “Tacticom, I want weapons on the table thirty seconds ago. The Commander needs options for when he assumes command.”

“Speak of the devil and he will answer.” comes a voice from the bridge’s entrance. I turn to see Commander Jack Dussel step onto the bridge — seven feet of rugged manliness and muscle, tucked neatly into the muted modesty of a frontier gentleman. There’s streaks of grey in his air, but you couldn’t quite call him old with how fit he looks, and the rugged masculinity radiating off him.

“Commander on deck!” Tony shouts to the rest of the bridge. There’s scattered salutes where they can be managed, before the officers return to their tasks.

“At ease.” Commander Dussel says, his bootsteps echoing on the bridge as he makes his way to the captain’s chair. “Adjutant, report.”

“Extraction did not go as planned. CURSE Peacekeepers intercepted the Lieutenant Commander and her party on the way to the starport.” Tony answers without looking around. “They managed to launch from the starport, but Valcorria’s local security has been alerted. The transport has just completed atmospheric exit, but the CURSE interdictor in low orbit is moving to intercept.”

“Now why they’d have to go and do that?” Dussel says, sitting in the captain’s chair. “What are we looking at here?”

Tony flicks her screen, sending a window out to the side showing what looks like an elegant white combat cruiser in orbit over Valcorria. “The interdictor was originally of Challenger provenance. Probably came into CURSE possession after the program was shuttered. Assuming no changes have been made to the combat platforms, it’ll be heavy on shields, point defense arrays, and exotic weapons. We can probably outgun it, but we will not be able to outrun it.”

“We’re not looking for a fight; we’re just looking to get our people out.” Dussel says, resting his square chin on an equally square fist. “Tacticom, boot up the CLA and poke their shields a bit. Let’s get their attention and keep it off the transport.” After a moment, he notices me standing beside Tony’s desk. “Is there a reason the Lieutenant’s plaything is on the bridge?”

I clear my throat, holding up a finger. “I prefer boy toy, thank you very much. I just came to see what was going on. I heard the Boss was in trouble.”

“Suppose I should expect a cat to stick its nose where it’s not supposed to be.” Dussel says, looking at the screen with the interdictor on it. “Well, fuzzy ears, you can stick around so long as you stay out of the way. Tariel, put away that damn smokestick. What have I told you about vaping on the bridge?”

“What’s a claw?” I whisper aside to Tony.

“A CLA is a Continuous Laser Armament.” Tony answers, without looking away from her console, though she does motion a hand to the screen that holds the image of the CURSE interdictor. “You may witness it in action yourself shortly.”

I shuffle around her console a bit to get a better look, and sure enough, a green beam slices across the feed seconds later, originating from somewhere out of frame and tracking straight for the CURSE ship. It doesn’t make it to the hull; a blue hexpanel shield flares to life around the ship, intercepting the beam. Despite this, the green beam keeps drilling away at the shield.

“Commander, the CURSE ship is hailing us.” Tariel drawls, exhaling a cloud of vape smoke as she does so. “Should I tell ‘em to leave a message after the beep?”

“Bring them onscreen.” Dussel says, checking his leather jacket and fluffing the collar a little. “I’m sure they would like to brandish the rulebook at us.”

Tariel reaches forward, using her vape to tap a button on her console, and leans back again as a widescreen comes up on the bridge window, showing a feed from the CURSE ship’s bridge. Theirs looks cleaner and more elegant than ours, their white consoles and blue screens jarring against the brown consoles and red screens of our bridge. Sitting in the captain’s chair is some uniformed guy with well-coiffed hair that goes off on us the moment the channel opens.

“Commander Jack Dussel, you have attacked a CURSE Peacekeeper vessel unprovoked while in low orbit over a populated world. I cannot even begin to list the number of galactic laws you have broken with this action, nor do I have the time or disposition to do so. You are hereby ordered to immediately power down your weapons and shields and prepare for boarding and arrest—”

“Son, you’re flying a stolen ship that was captained by better men and women than you.” Dussel interrupts, calmly but firmly. “You are in no position to talk about broken laws.”

I can almost see the guy having a stroke. “This vessel is the rightful property of Citizens United.” he says through gritted teeth. “Its previous owners were convicted for their corruption, and their assets placed into hands that could be trusted to use them in the service of the greater good. We provide security to the galaxy that the Challengers failed to provide.”

“The people that owned the ship fifteen years ago may’ve been corrupt. But the men and women that crewed it were not.” Dussel answers, still civil and unyielding. “That vessel does not belong to CURSE. You come up here and try to board my battlecruiser, I will take that ship from you.”

There’s silence as Dussel’s calm warning sinks in. It’s the way he says it — it lacks aggression, but there’s a certainty about it, like a statement of fact. Like it’s something that will happen, rather something which might happen. The CURSE captain can hear it as well, and you can see him struggling with whether or not to follow through on his threat.

“Captain Markos, the transport is adjusting course to circumvent us.” one of the CURSE bridge officers says, breaking the silence. “We have capture solutions available for your perusal.”

“Tacticom, give me weapons control. All available options.” Dussel immediately calls to our tactics officer.

“You are aiding and abetting criminals!” Captain Markos snaps at Dussel. “You really want to dig this grave deeper for yourself, Dussel? You’re going to be a wanted man when you leave this system! There’s going to be a bounty on your head! Your merc license is going to be suspended!”

“A bounty will make it interesting, and you can tell the guild to suspend my license. I’ve got a client that’s footing my bills.” Dussel says, opening a screen above the armrest of his chair. “Are you going to let me have my Lieutenant Commander back, or are we taking this to the cannons, Captain?”

“I’m not going to just let you run off with the most wanted man in the galaxy, Commander.” Markos growls, nodding to his tactics officer.

“Have it your way, then.” Dussel says, fingers tapping over the screen above his armrest. “Tacticom, dial up the output on the CLA. Maximal focus to the starboard shields. Firing tubes one through four. Tariel, kill the channel.”

As distant echoes rattle through the ship’s hull, Tariel uses the end of her vape to tap her console, closing the channel with Markos. On the screen showing the CURSE vessel, the green beam being directed at the ship intensifies, while four missiles can be seen arcing across the void of space towards the ship. Dussel sighs, and I look back to see him returning weapons control to the tactics officer.

“Y’know, I remember being young and stubborn as that once.” he remarks, scratching at his stubble. “Navcom, do we have exit solutions yet?”

“Four, sir. Would you like me to initiate the preferred?”

“Hold for now…” Dussel says, watching the screen with the CURSE vessel on it. Seconds before the missiles reach the ship, they burst open, releasing dozens of micro-missiles that fan out in the last stretch. Almost immediately, thin little rays of blue light start pulsing out from the hull of the CURSE ship, lancing through spread of micro-missiles, destroying them before they reach the hull. As the bursts of light quickly fade away in the chill of space, a small transport appears over the curve of the CURSE ship, making a beeline for the Accatria. “Initiate now.”

“Primary thrusters firing.”

“Commander, they’re warming weapons.” Tony warns.

“Are they going to start shooting at us?” I ask, alarmed.

“They might. But we have shields and hull armoring. I’m not worried about us.” Dussel says, his eyes fixed on the screen. “The transport, on the other hand, is a much easier target. Tacticom, prime tubes five through eight for launch; fire on my command. We don’t want to give them space to breathe. Let’s force them to keep all their power devoted to their point-defense array.”

“Tubes primed and ready for launch.”

“Gods, this is driving me crazy.” I mutter, running my hands through my hair. “I can’t do anything but sit here and watch while the Boss is in danger. I feel so useless.”

“A remarkably self-aware sentiment coming from the hybridized test-tube equivalent of a sex toy.” Dussel concurs mildly.

I glare over my shoulder at him. “Ha bloody ha.”

“Don’t see you denying it, kittykat.” Tariel drawls as she blows a ring of vape smoke.

“The interdictor’s weapons are primed but they have not yet fired.” Tony states, breaking through our banter. “Transport is closing; hangar crew are readying to receive.”

Dussel’s brow furrows. “Tacticom, can you confirm? Is the interdictor withholding fire?”

“Confirmed. Their weapons are primed but they are not taking shots.”

“Hmm.” After a moment, Dussel leans forward. “Ease up on the CLA. Perhaps Captain Markos discovered his sense of self-preservation.”

“Commander, we’ve got a call comin’ in from the CURSE vessel.” Tariel calls. “Up on the main screen?”

“Put it up.” Dussel says.

Another video channel opens up on the forward window, showing the bridge of the interdictor again. Markos is leaned back in his chair, looking calmer but more judgmental. “You can have the Songbird, Dussel. This time, and only because I’m not willing to kill a child to take him out as well.”

“Kill a child?” Dussel says, resting an arm on his knee. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Your Lieutenant opened a channel with us, let us know they had a teenager onboard, and made the case that while she and Songbird might deserve a fiery and sudden death, the kid didn’t.” Markos says, squeezing a stress ball that he hadn’t had a few minutes ago. “Which, fortunately for you, is a rather compelling argument. I’m not in the habit of killing children. But this is going in the report as well; the Vaunted are going to hear about you using human shields.”

“You got a screw loose, son. What kid are you talking about?” Dussel demands. “We were only set to extract the Lieutenant and Songbird.”

I start edging away from Tony’s console, taking small steps backwards as I try to sink out of sight. On the screen, Markos clenches the stress ball in one fist. “I told you not to play dumb with me, Dussel. You used to be a reputable merc commander; I know you’re smarter than that. Your Lieutenant has a kid on that transport. That’s the only reason I haven’t reduced it to low-orbit shrapnel.”

“Really.” Dussel says as I surreptitiously edge past his chair, and turn to lightfoot it the rest of the way to the door. Before I can, though, he reaches out and clamps a massive fist around my tail, holding me in place. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Lucanthiline?”

I glance at him, providing an uneasy grin even as my ears instinctively lay back against my head. “…so, we may’ve picked up a new recruit on Valcorria…”

“Transport’s in the hangar and being secured.” Tony says, her fingers waltzing over her console screen. “Tacticom, disengage CLA and divert power to the warp drive to prep for jump. Navcom, full on thrusters. We are departing.”

“We’ll meet again, Dussel.” Markos says, squeezing his stress ball again. “This isn’t over.” With that, the channel closes, leaving us with a wide view of the void of space.

Dussel releases the hold on my tail. “Tell the Lieutenant she’s going to have some explaining to do when she reports in.” With that, he leans back in his chair, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a flask. “Tacticom, keep an eye on the interdictor as we’re leaving. I wouldn’t put it past CURSE to take a cheap shot on our way out the door.”

Taking that as an indication I’ve been dismissed, I make a beeline for the door so I can head down to the hangar and see how the Boss and the others are doing.

Encyclopedia Galactica

Mercforce

The term ‘mercforce’ is an abbreviation of the longer phrase ‘mercenary forces’. It is used to describe groups of hired soldiers larger than a hundred fighting individuals, not including logistics and administrative staff.

In the modern era, mercforces are often employed as supplements to existing combat forces, or as escorts for noncombat individuals or fleets. The scale on which a mercforce can act is determined largely by its size; smaller mercforces tend to operate across smaller areas on more localized jobs, while larger mercforces possess both the manpower and equipment to engage in larger conflicts on the regional level. Though it is not a requirement, most mercforces are assumed to be mobile, having at least one interstellar vessel that can be used to reach job sites and participate in combat theaters.

Mercforces are not homogenous in terms of the services they provide, with some mercforces exclusively operating in interstellar warfare. Other mercforces specialize in the deployment of infantry to terrestrial theaters, and many others take a hybrid approach, offering packages that encompass a range of combat services, both terrestrial and interstellar.

Most of the contracts and jobs that are taken by mercforces are mediated by the Guild, a broker body that handles the legal and communication footwork involved in connecting mercforces with prospective clients. Membership in the Guild comes with certain conduct requirements and membership fees, but in return, the Guild provides access to discounted rates for insurance coverage, a wide range of clients, and visibility for member mercforces. Those mercforces which operate outside of the Guild typically do so at a substantial disadvantage to Guild mercforces, and often find their growth and operations potential stunted because of it.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

M.V. Accatria: Infirmary

2:11pm LST

“Is there a reason you’re out here instead of in there?”

I look up to see Luci walking down the hall towards me, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. At the moment I’m leaned back against the wall outside the Accatria’s infirmary, waiting for Valkyrie to get done with Ridge.

“Yeah, I can’t go in there.” I say, sleeping my phone and slipping it back into my pocket. “Valkyrie was giving me the Look, so I have to wait out here.”

“The Look?” Luci says, raising an eyebrow. “Which Look? There are lots of Looks. The Boss gives me a Look pretty often.”

“Probably not that kind of Look.” I say, rolling my eyes. “Different Look.”

“Well…” Luci says, leaning to the side and peering through the infirmary window. “Is it the Exasperated Doctor Look? I heard Valkyrie gets that look whenever you bring her a new patient. Or is it the I Can’t Believe You Stole An Orphan And Recruited Him Look? I got that one from the Commander this morning.”

“It’s hard to describe.” I say, reaching up to rub the back of my neck. “It’s the Look most other Challengers give me when they see me.”

“Sounds like an awfully specific Look.” Luci says, leaning back against the wall beside me. “What kind of Look is it?”

I raise my hands, making vague motions as I explain. “It’s like 50% Oh, It’s You Again, about 25% is I Won’t Pretend I Don’t See You, But I Won’t Verbally Acknowledge You, and the other 300% is You’re Dead To Me. Y’know?”

“Aahhhh.” Luci says slowly. “So it’s the Look that other Challengers give you because they blame you for getting the program shut down.”

“Yes. That exactly.”

“Funny. I didn’t take Valkyrie for the grudge-holding sort.”

“Well, I mean, when I knew her, she wasn’t.” I say, leaning to the side and peeking through the infirmary window. Within, Ridge is sitting on one of the medical beds while a tall blonde with blue-tipped hair adjusts the settings on the auto-stitcher. “Granted, I didn’t really know her all that well before the program got shuttered. She patched me up plenty of times while I was still human, but we never really like… talked, you know?”

“You were just another patient among the hundreds she took care of?” Luci guesses.

“Yeah, that.” I say as she moves the auto-stitcher over to Ridge’s bed, and guides his arm into it. I pull back quickly, and out of view, hoping she hasn’t glimpsed me through the window. “Doesn’t really matter anyhow. I’m used to getting that look from people. Used to get it all the time after the program shut down.”

“Is that why you changed your hair?” Luci asks. “So people would stop recognizing you?”

I reach up, tugging at one of my tropical-blue bangs. “Not really. I mean, that was one of the reasons, but not the main reason. It’s complicated.”

Luci looks like he’s about to say something to that, but a shriek tears down the hall before he can say anything. “SONGBIRD!”

Both of us look down the hall, but all I see is a blur before something slams into me, the momentum sending me and the other thing skidding down the hall.

“AH! GAH! I’M SORRY, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!” I wail, flailing and trying to grab onto something to arrest my momentum. A hand catches my arm, keeping me upright, and the world stops spinning so I can see a familiar face attached to the arm: short brown hair, brown eyes, and a luminous smile all topping a rangy body with big boots. “What the— Jackrabbit?”

“Songbird!” she shrieks again, pulling me into a tight hug and spinning me around. “Oh my gods you haven’t aged a day! Look at you! You’re still a cute little chirper!”

“Gmmph. I mean, yes, I’m a vampire. That’s how it works?” I mumble past where my face is squeezed against the shoulder of her combat jacket. “I mean, you’re looking good too. Haven’t aged a day? At least that I can tell?”

Jackrabbit holds me away from herself so my face is no longer squashed against her shoulder, but she keeps her hands on my shoulders as she laughs. “I mean, yes? I’m wereckanan, that’s how it works! Fifteen years is a wink when you live four thousand!” She pats my shoulders, dusting them down while taking the edges of my hood and fluffing it up. “What’s this? Look at this hooded duster! In black! You look like a proper vampire now, all dark and edgy! Man, look at this hood. This thing’s got structure! Is it supposed to hold its shape when you put it on, so it can shadow your face without flopping down over your eyes?”

“Um. Yes.” I say quietly, feeling a bit of heat rising to my face. “This is actually my formal workstuff coat. I’m only wearing it because my favorite hoodie got ruined back on Shinobe Kibe. Still waiting for the replacement to come in.”

Jackrabbit pats my cheek. “C’mon, you know better than that! You never wear your favorite clothes on a mission! They’ll always get ruined. That’s one of the first things we taught recruits.”

“Well yes, but I wasn’t exactly given time to go home and change into something more appropriate before I got conscripted onto the mission.” I say, glaring back at Luci over my shoulder.

Luci shrugs. “Look dude, I was just trying to help you catch a hot date with a cute Maskling. These types of things are time-sensitive, y’know? Can’t dawdle or she might slip through your fingers and into someone else’s.”

Jackrabbit gasps. “You had a date?”

I whip my head back to her. “What? No! No no no! That’s just— it’s— it’s an inside joke! He calls it a date whenever I get sent off to catch this one Maskling, it’s not actually a date.”

“Though, you should’ve seen him team up with her a few days ago.” Luci says past me to Jackrabbit. “Watching those two hold their own against the Peacekeepers? Wicked cool.”

“Look, you—” I say to Luci, then turn to see Jackrabbit biting her lip with a look of absolute glee on her face. “Jackrabbit, no. That Maskling has the backup archive. We are catching her, not courting her.”

“Oh no, I totally agree!” Jackrabbit says quickly, bouncing a finger off my chest. “And I think the best person for the job is you. This’ll be, what? Your third ‘date’ with her?” She leans to the side to whisper past me at Luci. “Is that how it works? Am I part of the inside joke now?”

Luci gives her a wink and a thumbs up.

“You two are going to be the death of me.” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Someone clearing their throat draws our attention back to the doorway of the infirmary, where Valkyrie is standing in the hall with one hand on Ridge’s back. “You’ve got a fan here, dear. He could barely sit still once you turned up outside the infirmary, which made it rather difficult to get his wound stitched up.”

“Well lookie lookie, whadda we got here?” Jackrabbit says, hitching a hand on her hip as she sizes up Ridge. “Is this the new recruit that Nympho told me about?”

“Yes, uh. Hi. I’m Ridge!” Ridge says, looking like he’s about to explode from all the excitement he’s holding in. “It’s like, really cool to meet you. Really really cool. You’re my favorite Challenger.”

“Whoa heeeeeey!” Jackrabbit says, elbowing me with a big grin. “Look at that! Favorite Challenger! Someone put a mark on the board for me.” Skipping past me, she holds out a hand to Ridge. “Nice to meet you, Ridge! You know you’re signing up for a hard road, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” he says, reaching out and shaking Jackrabbit’s hand. “They had to cut the tracking chip out of my arm before they’d let me join up.”

“Which is what I just got done fixing up.” Valkyrie says, tucking her hands in the pockets of her labcoat. “I’m not surprised Sierra would pull a stunt like that, though. Just make sure you don’t push it and take it easy on that arm for a week, or the stitches will pop out.”

Ridge nods as the handshake ends, and looks back to Jackrabbit. “Will you train me?”

“Maybe in a couple of years.” comes a voice from down the hall. I look to see that Sierra’s walking towards us, her Challenger dress jacket draped around her shoulders again, and wearing her dress cap tilted down to one side. “But we need Jack running pushback against CURSE right now. The assignments she’s going to be on are high-danger. So for now, Songbird’s going to be the one breaking you in on the basics of…” She pauses as she comes to a stop beside Luci, looking thoughtful. “…what are we calling ourselves now? We can’t be Challengers anymore. That’s got too much baggage.”

“Oh.” Ridge says, tucking his hands in his pockets and looking disappointed.

“Contain your enthusiasm, kid.” I say. “Sierra, are you sure that’s a good idea? Challenger training didn’t usually begin until recruits were at least eighteen.”

Sierra waves it off. “He’ll be fine. In fact, it’s like he’s getting a head start on it.”

“Don’t worry, Ridge.” Jackrabbit says, clapping a hand on Ridge’s shoulder. “There’s plenty you can learn from Songbird. He’s not a bad Challenger to train with.” Then she leans down and whispers something in his ear; his eyes flick to me, and then away again.

“We are planning on making sure he completes his education, correct?” Valkyrie says, turning to Sierra. “You can’t just yank this kid out of an orphanage without making sure he’s got the skills he’ll need for the rest of his life. He’s sixteen; he needs to at least complete his primary schooling.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll hire a digital Cyber to tutor him or something. We’ve got the budget for it.” Sierra says, waving Valkyrie off. “Anyway, I need all of you in the briefing room five minutes ago. Now that everyone’s settled in and Accatria’s gone to warp, we need to sit down and figure out what we’re doing next. We just got a report in from the Bulwark about where the Maskling’s headed next, but we aren’t the only ones looking for her. CURSE is ramping up their operations across the galaxy, and we’re going to need to talk about how we’re going to handle that.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Jackrabbit says, bouncing on her toes past Ridge and Sierra. “I wanna hear more about this Maskling girl. Race you all there!”

“Well, at least somebody’s happy to see you.” Luci murmurs as the others start to follow Jackrabbit down the hall, and he and I bring up the rear. “Maybe fifteen years is long enough to let some tempers cool.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” I mutter, my eyes on Valkyrie’s back as we follow them to the briefing room.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

M.V. Accatria: Briefing Room

2:23pm LST

“It took a bit, but our analysts at the Bulwark were able to get a lock on the Maskling’s whereabouts after she fled Valcorria.” Sierra says as she turns on the holoarray within the briefing room. A map of the galaxy spills out into the middle of the room, while the rest of us stand around the edges, or sit in the chairs lining the walls of the room. “She appears to be headed to Sybione, a planet within the Marshy Republic that’s a nexus for the arts and a major capitol of the entertainment industry. It’s a world that’s known for being sympathetic to Masklings, and there’s a few Quill Sanctuaries on Sybione.”

“She’s fleeing back to the nest.” I say, folding my arms as I watch a line draw itself through various stars and systems, ending up on a small green planet in orbit around a yellow-orange star. “That might be dangerous. We’re going to be following her to a world with considerable Maskling presence.”

“You’re going to be following her to Sybione.” Sierra says. “You’ve encountered her twice, so you’re more familiar with her and will have a better idea of what to expect and how to counter her. Luci will not be accompanying you on this one — I need him to return to the task of finding and recruiting retired Challengers before CURSE gets to them. Jackrabbit, in the meantime, will be running counter-ops against CURSE and getting our name out there.”

“Even though we don’t know what our name is yet?” Luci asks.

“Still working on that.” Sierra says, holding up a finger. “Asskickers just doesn’t have the same ring as Challengers, and Elites sounds like we’ve got a stick up our asses. I’m taking suggestions, though, so if you all have any bright ideas, go ahead and text them to me.”

“Shouldn’t we be sending Jack after the Maskling?” Valkyrie asks from where she’s seated in one of the chairs around the edge of the room, one leg folded over the other. “The backup archive is the highest priority here. We should be sending our most qualified operative to retrieve it.”

“No offense to Jack, but we are sending our most qualified operative.” Sierra says. “Songbird’s already established a rapport of sorts with the Maskling, and I’d rather send a familiar face after her, instead of some rando.”

“Excuuuuuuse me?” Jackrabbit says indignantly. “Who you callin’ a rando?”

“Well, not really a rando, y’know, but you get what I mean.” Sierra says, rolling her eye. “Point is, Jack, we need you out there kicking ass and taking names while Songbird does his thing and appeals to the hidden good within unrepentant souls.”

“Last time he tried to do that he got clobbered by a giant scrap bot.” Ridge points out from where he’s slouched across one of the desks in the room.

I narrow my eyes at Ridge. “Perhaps we’d like to talk about the fact that you just handed the backup archive to Kiwi so she could run off with it?”

“I didn’t know she was a bad guy!” Ridge protests. “And I didn’t know CURSE was going to try to grab the backup archive so they could track down the Challengers and kill them!”

“He’s actually got a fair point, that’s not common knowledge.” Luci points out. “CURSE runs a good media game. They’ve built up an image as defenders of the public since the Challenger program shut down.”

“…alright. I guess I can give you a pass on that.” I concede, grudgingly. “So once we get the archive, where do we go from there? I assume we’ll be finding the Challengers that went into the resettlement program?”

“Yes, that. But we need the backup archive for more than that.” Sierra says, closing down the galaxy map and bringing up another folder that explodes out into hundreds of redacted digital documents and reports. “The backup archive is a comprehensive backup — it contains everything that was stored in the Challenger database. Experimental technology, hidden knowledge, secret worlds, clandestine programs, information on every conflict that the Challengers were ever involved in or investigated, and the locations and access codes of all Challenger assets and facilities. That includes the location and access codes to the Bastions.”

“Wait, the Bastions?” Ridge says, sitting up. “You mean the gigantic Challenger bases that disappeared when the Challengers were outlawed?”

“The orbital fortresses, yes.” Sierra says. “Back when the program was shut down, the ranking Challengers defied court orders to surrender the Bastions along with the rest of the Challenger assets. Instead, they scattered them in hidden places across the galaxy, and put them into siege lockdown. CURSE managed to find one, but no one can get a ship within a thousand miles of it without being blown to pieces.”

“Not for lack of trying.” Valkyrie adds. “It hasn’t just been CURSE; there have been other organizations that have tried to get into the Bastion. Without the access codes, however, the orbital fortress remains in siege lockdown, and will defend itself against all attempts at unauthorized access.”

“CURSE would kill to get at what we have in the Bastions.” Jackrabbit adds, lacing her fingers behind her head as she leans back in her chair. “That was our big middle finger to them fifteen years ago. They managed to seize most of the Challenger fleet and pretty much all of our planet-bound assets, but we got the Bastions away from them before they could get their conniving mitts on them.”

“Which is why we need to send our best operative after the Maskling.” Valkyrie says again. “If CURSE gets the backup archive, then they win. They’ll be able to acquire the last of of the Challenger infrastructure assets, and with that, they can finally fill the power vacuum the Challengers left behind when they were shut down.”

“My decision’s final.” Sierra says firmly. “Songbird goes after the Maskling. Luci goes after known and retired Challengers. Jackrabbit will run disruption to CURSE operations.”

“If you’re worried about Songbird, you can set those fears to rest, Valkyrie.” comes a deep voice from the doorway as it slides open. Stepping inside is a giant, broad-shouldered guy that stands at least seven feet tall. Probably Venusian descent. Streaks of grey run through his hair, and he moves with the comfort of a military man in control of his situation. There’s a refined, stately air about him. “The Accatria and its attached company will be seeing Songbird to the objective and providing him tactical, logistical, and intelligence support in his assignment.”

“Commander.” Sierra smirks, giving a salute. “Come off your high and mighty throne to mingle with the middle management?”

“If you’re talking about my chair up on the bridge, it’s not as high and mighty as you think it is.” he chuckles. “Leather’s cracked and could stand to be replaced. You do what you can with a secondhand battlecruiser, though.” He turns about, taking us all in. “Jackrabbit, Valkyrie, Lucanthiline… and you must be Songbird.” He crosses the room to me, holding out a meaty, weathered hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Commander Jack Dussel, leader of the Dussel Mercforce. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Most people have.” I say, reaching out and shaking the hand. “I’m sure most of it hasn’t been flattering.”

“Well, of course not. I’ve heard some people say you’re the most hated man in the galaxy.” Dussel says mildly. “I’ll admit that my opinion’s been softened by what Sierra’s told me. I’m interested in seeing if she lied to me.”

I give a bitter smile. “I’ve spent the last fifteen years dealing with people who think I’m something I’m not. I’m used to it.”

“Tough skin. A good thing for someone in your position to have.” Dussel says, releasing my hand, then looking to Ridge. “And this must be our newest recruit. You’ve gotten us in a remarkable amount of trouble, between giving away the backup archive to a Maskling, and CURSE thinking we were using you as a human shield.”

“I mean, it’s not like anyone told me what it was.” Ridge says defensively, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. “How was I supposed to know I was giving away the access codes to the Bastions?”

“You weren’t.” Jackrabbit says, jerking herself forward onto her feet. “That’s okay; you’re not the only one that’s made a mistake that could majorly screw over the galaxy. Songbird could tell you a story or two about that, right?” Giving me a wink, she skips over to Dussel. “So, big boss. Am I going to get a support unit like Songbird is? I’m going to need a little bit of backup if I’m going toe to toe with CURSE.”

“You will.” Dussel confirms. “Once we get back to the Bulwark, you’ll be assigned to our other battlecruiser, the Voliburn. They’ll be able to provide you tangible fire support on field engagements, which what I suspect you’ll need going up against CURSE.”

“Wicked.” Jackrabbit grins. “You better believe I’ll put them through their paces. Taking CURSE head-on isn’t a spectator sport.”

“I expect no less from a Challenger.” Dussel says, turning a last time to take in the rest of us. “I don’t believe I need to reiterate to you all the importance of what we’re doing here. The future of the galaxy is at stake. Our client is relying on us save the remaining Challengers and build something out of the ashes of the program, so let’s try and make him proud.”

“Who’s this client?” I ask as Dussel turns to leave the room.

Dussel pauses and turns, looking at me. “You’ll meet him in time. You are, after all, the core of his project.”

“I— what?” I say, confused as I look at Sierra to see what she thinks about this, then look back to Dussel. “What do you mean, I’m the core of his project?”

“Exactly that. You were the one that set the spark that burned down the Challenger program.” Dussel says, stepping through the doors as they slide open for him. “Now he wants you to be the one that pulls the phoenix out of its ashes.”

The News

“This just in: Challenger 5377, also known as Songbird, has escaped Valcorria aboard a mercenary battlecruiser. Songbird, who is best known as the Challenger that killed Nova, had previously been linked to a terrorist attack on Shinobe Kibe and a battle with Peacekeepers in the Challenger Museum on Valcorria. For more on this, we go now to Shina Sothsby, our field correspondent.”

“Thank you, Clarence. Behind me you can see the Challenger Museum, which is currently undergoing repairs. It was assumed that CURSE’s Peacekeepers would quickly capture Songbird and bring him in for trial after the encounter at the Museum, but the notorious Challenger has evaded CURSE’s dragnet. It’s thought that Valcorria, which has historically been sympathetic to the Challengers, deliberately slow-walked CURSE’s request for local assistance; however, Valcorria’s government has denied these accusations, and has pointed to Songbird’s escape aboard a mercenary ship as evidence that the rogue Challenger had external assistance.”

“Interesting, Shina. Do we know anything about this mercenary vessel?”

“The investigation is still ongoing, but early reports and leaks seem to identify the vessel as the Accatria, a battlecruiser listed as an asset of the Dussel Mercforce. A brief overview of their portfolio on the Guild website shows a midsize mercforce with deep experience performing escort and exploration assignments on the galactic edge and in dark space regions. While the mercforce was originally founded in more traditional conflicts, they had stayed out of major and political conflicts in recent years. If they are in fact aiding and abetting Songbird, it raises the question of why a mercforce that has avoided high-profile assignments would involve themselves with such a notorious, polarizing individual.”

“Well, they are mercenaries — perhaps they are being compensated to provide assistance to Songbird?”

“Perhaps, Clarence. But then that raises the question: what organization or individual would pay to keep the galaxy’s most notorious Challenger alive and out of the hands of the law? And perhaps more importantly, why?”

“Good questions all around, Shina. Perhaps the investigation, when it concludes, will provide the answers that the rest of the galaxy is looking for.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

M.V. Accatria: Forward Lounge

7:53pm SGT

Reaching up, I tap on the lounge window, turning off the newscast as the segment ends. With the newscast out of the way, all I can see beyond the window is the swirling darkness of hyperspace, and my own face, dimly reflected in the glass.

After a minute to consider my image, I reach into my coat, digging around until I come up with my flask. I start to unscrew the cap, then pause at the sound of a knock on the doorframe. Looking over, I see Ridge standing in the doorway; he’s back to acting nonchalant and aloof, now that Jackrabbit’s not around.

“So.” he says. “When do we start training?”

I reverse track, and screw the cap back onto my flask. “C’mon in. Sit down.” I say from where I’m sitting lengthwise across one of the lounge’s couches by the window. There’s a couple other couches in here, plenty of chairs, and a couple of game tables. “I suppose if we’re stuck with each other now, we ought to get to know each other a little better.”

He shrugs as he steps inside, loitering over to one of the armchairs near my couch and sitting down in it. “I mean, I already know pretty much everything about you.”

“Oh, really?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Well then. Tell me what you know about me.”

“Well, you joined the Challengers at the same time Nova did.” Ridge begins. “Trained for three years. You were on one of the support teams that backed up elite Challengers when they were deployed to a world. You’re a vampire, which means you’re pretty durable and you can regenerate, kinda. You’re also a sonic sorcerer, so you can change how your voice sounds to mimic other people if you listen to them long enough. You’re good at close-quarters combat, and you were one of the Challengers that was testing out the DIAS armor before the program shut down. And you killed Nova.”

I slowly tuck my flask back into my jacket. “Y’know, that’s honestly more than I was expecting. I’m surprised you know that much. Most people just know me as the guy that killed Nova.”

He shrugs. “I like Challenger stuff. I read a lot about it on nights when I was bored and couldn’t go to sleep.”

“Well, I’m pleasantly surprised.” I say, propping my head against a fist. “But you don’t actually know anything about me.”

His brows come together. “I mean, I could probably look up more—”

“It’s not about that.” I interrupt him. “Anybody could look up the stuff you just recited to me. That’s public knowledge. But I’m more than just a stat sheet, more than just a list of facts attached to a name. I’m a person.” I give that a moment to sink in, then go on. “You know I was bullied in school? For thirteen years. All the way up until the day I graduated.”

Ridge’s mouth hangs open a little. “But you…”

“But I’m a Challenger?” I ask, guessing what he was going to say. “Yeah. I am now. But back then I was skinny, I was quiet, and I didn’t know how to interact and socialize with other people. Fun fact: I couldn’t do public speaking without bursting into tears. I was a shy, awkward, introverted mess of a teenager. Hell, kids like you were the type of kids that probably would’ve bullied me back in high school.”

I think I’ve shocked him into silence. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just shifts uncomfortably in his chair, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket.

“So you see my point now?” I go on. “You think you know me. Everybody thinks they know Songbird. But all they know is what they’ve seen on the news, read on the galaxynet, or watched on their Saturday morning cartoons. They don’t actually know the person. And so they don’t actually know anything about me. At all.”

The uncomfortable silence lingers, with Ridge not saying anything. Probably not knowing what to say. I probably would’ve gotten an apology from an adult, or a defensive remark, depending on who I was talking to, but Ridge isn’t an adult; he’s a kid. After a moment more, I go on once more. “You want to know something else about what school was like for me?”

The offer gets him looking at me again, instead of looking away. His answer is a shrug, the careful one that says he’s pretending that he doesn’t care either way; it’s a familiar motion. Seen it a thousand times on a thousand different kids, most of them trying to mask some vulnerability.

“I had friends.” Reaching into my coat, I pull out my flask again. “I wasn’t cool, and I wasn’t popular, but I had good friends. I had people that stood up for me, and cared about me, and they were braver than I ever was as a kid. When other people pushed me around, they pushed back for me, because I was too scared and too weak to do it myself.” I stare at the flask, wanting to open it but unable to bring myself to do so. “That’s part of the reason I’m a Challenger now. I wanted to be like the friends that I had in school. I wanted to be brave, and stand up for people that couldn’t stand up for themselves. I got bullied a lot in school, but my friends made it so that it was bearable.”

Tucking the flask back in my coat, I take my legs off the couch and sit up properly, leaning my forearms on my knees as I look at him. “You see me as I am now, but I didn’t start out like this. Nobody’s born a Challenger; it’s something we become. Everyone comes by it a different way, figuring out what they believe in, what they want to stand for, who they want to be. At the end of the day, a lot of Challengers became the type of person they needed when they were young. At least, that’s what happened to me. And I’m okay with that, because as far as I’m concerned, that’s a person worth being.” I smile at him. “But, that’s enough about me. You’ve listened to me ramble for like… three minutes now. Tell me more about yourself.”

It's clear from his expression that he wasn’t expecting the sudden topic change. “Uh, well…” he says, taking a breath and rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… what do you want to know?”

“Hmm.” I think it over for a moment. “Your name. Is it really Ridge?”

“No.” he says, hunching his shoulders. “My legal name isn’t cool, so I stopped using it.”

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad.”

He gives me a look. “Cornelius Sendiper Kane.”

“Oh. Yowch.” I say, wincing. “Alright, I take it back. You could beat a man to death with a name that heavy. Why’d you pick Ridge, though?”

He leans back in the armchair, fiddling with the cuffs of his hoodie. “There was a dirt ridge out behind one of the orphanages I stayed at, I used to play on it all the time. The other kids started calling me Ridge because I always hung out on the ridge, and it just stuck. It was better than being called Corn.”

“Did they really call you that?”

“It was shorter than Cornelius.”

“Fair enough.”

We go quiet for a bit. After a moment Ridge looks at me. “What about you?”

“What about me?” I ask.

“Your name.” he explains. “Why is your codename Songbird?”

“It’s a long story.” I say, looking away. “Didn’t they cover it in that anime you were watching back when I first met you? Unless they decided that my character wasn’t important enough to have any backstory exposition.”

“Oh yeah, the show covers it.” Ridge says quickly. “In the show it’s because you can sing to people to hypnotize and mind-control them.”

“Are you serious?” I demand incredulously. “That’s what they think I can do?”

Ridge shrugs. “I mean, that’s the way they have it in the show.”

“I’ve never been able to do that.” I mutter, scratching at my forehead with a thumb. “Do these producers even do any research before they start writing these scripts? Though I’ll admit, it does make a good villain setup. Mind control is a classic bad guy power. I wonder what else they got wrong.”

“So you can’t actually do anything with your voice?” Ridge asks. “Why were you codenamed Songbird, then?”

“That’s complicated.” I answer, lacing my fingers together. “I can’t really… control the ability that’s tied to my codename, so I avoid using it. Besides, it’s important to have actual skills, so you’re not using your abilities as a crutch. That way, you can still be an effective Challenger even if you lose them.” I don’t give him a chance to ask more about it, turning the topic to something else. “You know you’re still going to have to go to school, right? An online iteration, but we need to make sure you at least graduate from primary schooling.”

Ridge slouches in the chair. “School is boring.”

“So is writing after-action reports and doing mission research.” I point out. “Being a Challenger is more than just fighting; it can’t all be adrenaline and action. If you don’t want to go to college after you finish primary schooling, that’s fine, but you need to at least graduate from primary schooling.”

“Says who?” he demands.

“Says me.” I answer firmly. “Sierra made me your trainer, and I say finishing school is part of your training. And I’m sure if I asked her, Valkyrie would agree with me.”

“You can’t make me do it.” he says dismissively, folding his arms.

“No, I can’t.” I agree simply. “But I can refuse to take you on missions, or give you tactical training, if you aren’t taking classes.”

His eyes widen as he realizes what kind of leverage I have. “…fine.” he mutters, sitting back up in the armchair. “I’ll finish school. How’s it going to work? Do I get a private tutor or something? I don’t think anyone on this ship is interested in giving me math lessons.”

“I’ll ask Sierra. She can probably get the ball rolling on that, since I think she’s the one with access to our finances. Chances are, we’ll probably hire a DI to live on the ship and teach you.” I say, rubbing a thumb against the underside of my chin. “That might actually be complicated, now that the mercforce may not be in the galaxy’s good graces. We’ll figure it out, though.”

“Is that because they helped you?” Ridge asks.

I dig a thumbnail into my skin. “…more or less. Aiding and abetting the galaxy’s most notorious Challenger will get you blacklisted in a lot of systems. I suspect it’s going to take the Colloquium a while to formalize it, since there’ll be an investigation, but the Dussel Mercforce may end up spending a lot of time in dark space down the road. Hanging out in places that the Vaunted don’t regularly patrol.”

“Oh.” is all he says to that. I have a feeling that a lot of the astropolitical nuances are going right over his head, which is just as well, because he follows it up with a yawn. “I’ve never been to dark space before.”

“It’s a little more adventurous than open space, but otherwise not all that different.” I say, standing up. “And it seems like it’s bedtime for you. You’ve had a long, exciting day; you should get some rest.”

I’m expecting him to fight me on it, but to my surprise, he just nods and pushes himself up out of his chair. “Okay. They gave me my own room; I think I remember where it is.”

“If you can’t find it, you can probably stop one of the mercs and ask them where the crew quarters are.” I say, moving to the lounge’s door and stepping out into the hall with Ridge following behind me. “Unless you’d like me to walk you there just to make sure you find it?”

“I’ll be fine.” he says, starting to head down the hall. “Goodnight, Songbird.”

It feels weird to hear him call me by my codename, and I’m not sure why. After a moment of standing there, I call after him. “Hey, Ridge.”

He pauses and looks around. “Yeah?”

“What did Jackrabbit whisper to you in the hall? Outside the infirmary. After she told you that you’d be training with me.” I realize how prying that sounds, so I add “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

It looks like he has to think for a moment, but eventually remembers. “Oh, that.” he says. “She said you were the best Challenger that the program ever trained. That you knew more about what it meant to be a Challenger than anyone else.”

That floors me. “…you’re pulling my leg. Seriously?”

Ridge shrugs. “That’s what she said. I dunno, I think she’s probably the best Challenger, and she probably only said that about you so I’d want to train with you.” After a moment, he moves to another topic. “Hey, a lot of people said you and Nova were in the same recruitment class — did you know her well? Just wondering, because in the show—”

“Think it’s time for you to go to bed.” I say before he can finish his question. “Like I said, you need to get your rest. We’re gonna be digging through my luggage tomorrow to see if any of my old clothes fit you, since you’ve been wearing those same clothes for a few days now. If I see Luci again anytime soon, I’ll ask him if he can grab some clothes for you so won’t have to wear my hand-me-downs.”

It’s clear that he knows that I’m evading his question, and I can see in his eyes that he’s thinking about pushing the topic anyway. After a moment, he seems to think better of it, and shrugs. “Alright then. See you in the morning.” he says as he turns and heads back down the hall once more.

I wait until he’s disappeared from view around the corner, then exhale a deep breath. Reaching into my longcoat, I pull out my flask, sizing it up; after a moment, I unscrew the cap, taking swig. Putting it away again, I turn and start walking in the other direction.

It’s been fifteen years, but there are some things that never get easier to talk about.