CANON OMAKE: Minds of Last Resort
- Location
- Germany
Minds of Last Resort
Erusea, Farbanti, 10 hours after Trigger drove off the battleship
Princess Cosette stared at the report in her slender hand. She looked immaculate, as usual, even if her last night of uninterrupted sleep had been - had it been after the battle of the Lighthouse? She took another sip of the black mass that her cook called coffee while on the other end of the ramshackle video conferencing system a man, clad in shadows, informed her with a deep bass tone that Osea had left the XCom project.
"First Belka, now the Oseans? That is a harsh blow, indeed. How is T- Strider Squadron?"
The Speaker nodded and replied:
"Strider squadron had no losses; Mobius squadron lost two fighters, Bard squadron another one. XCom Usea had the best results; the aliens inflicted higher casualties on the other areas. Regarding Strider 1, he is currently under observation. He is well, but he has... changed. But the Council continues to trust in the Commander."
Except for Belka and Osea, of course.
"I thank you for this update, Speaker. The Kingdom of Erusea is still committed to the XCom project as well."
Then she sighed.
"Speaker? How does one know when it is time to break one's own rules?"
The older man was silent for a minute, considering, thinking, before he replied, calm and collected. He would be as cold as ice when his office stood in flame, Cosette was sure.
"You cannot know, Princess. You have to act and pray that you acted rightly. And remember. We will be watching."
The video stream flickered out, leaving only the black background to mirror her worries. She had to do something. The war went badly. But dared she to call upon all her resources?
And dared she not to?
She tossed and turned that night, again, like every time, nightmares vivid and unbidden. She smelled the exhaust of the Gründer drones racing towards her. She heard the crashing metal that had cost Tabloid his life. She saw the stupid little girl listening to the wrong military advisors. She felt the burning beam of death that had sunk the Gullfaxi turn her skin to ashes. After two hours, she gave up, fighting herself out of the far too comfy bed in the Farbanti palace and went to the computer. In the aftermath of the satellite rain, intercontinental communications were still a blind gamble; but thankfully, this time, the person she wanted to call was in Usea. After all, there was only one person she could trust with her crazy idea; and if it were too insane, she would call Cosette out.
"Ionela? I am sorry to call at this late an hour, but I have a request...."
Osea, Viridian Plains, three days later
It had been difficult to leave both her grandfather and her little sister behind. But Ionela A. Shillage had been accustomed to hard decisions during the war. Doubt ravaged her mind on that fool's errand Cosette had sent her, especially with only two men as helpers/bodyguards. The Erusean secret service had kept an eye on Dr. Schröder, even after the government had released him, and thankfully he had moved out of Belka shortly before they announced their alliance with the aliens.
Now she was standing here, in Bumfuck Nowhere, Osea, on open plains of farmland. The next city was fifty kilometers away; she could see nothing but long, straight streets and the small farm that was her target. For a homestead, it remarkably lacked any, well, farming; a small vegetable garden was the most horticulture she had seen. It seemed excessive to have three large steel barns.
Ionela turned to the agent on her left: "And we are sure that Dr. Schröder is here?"
The man nodded wordlessly. Gathering her breath, she straightened herself and strode purposefully towards the door to the main building.
She rang the bell - one that played a custom melody - and waited patiently. After half a minute, an older woman of Asian descent went out, wearing a faded pilot's jacket of some airline over a sundress:
"Yes, dear? What can I do for you? And for those two strapping young government men?"
"My name is Ionela A. Shilage, ma'am. I am looking for Dr. Schröder."
The woman laughed: "Ma'am? Do I look that old? Call me Edge. And the doc's in the hangar, together with the rest of the squadron."
The woman - Edge? - led them to the first of the large steel barns. A hangar? Ionela couldn't see a runway. Why call it a hangar?
The Asian nestled on a remote, and the high gates swung open wide. Inside, she could see four men and.. was that an F-16, painted in a distinctive pattern of red and white? Yes, it was. Disarmed, from what she could see, but that pattern reminded her of something.
"Dr. Schröder? You have a guest."
The Belkan man turned to her, blanched, but he came anyway, while their host went to take his place, muttering something about the cost of keeping that old bird flightworthy far away from civilization.
"Ionela?" he asked sheepishly. "What are you doing here?"
She did not know what exactly she felt as she saw the man that had given her so much grief. Pity? Hatred? Anger? All that, but in the end, Dr. Schröder had taken the right path. She had to use a gun for intimidation, but it was more than some had done.
"Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise requests and requires your help with the defense of Erusea against the alien threat. We are still co-operating with the international efforts, but we need more. I do not have a country anymore, and no one has the endless skies. Will you help us?"
It had cost her something, Ionela was sure, to say these words. She didn't know what. But maybe she wasn't better than Cosette, or Dr. Schröder, anyway.
The Belkan man sighed: "Yes. I have been working on something, but.. it is not yet ready. Is Erusea using the flight data analyzers I provided during the la-" he cut off, ashamed.
"You'll have to ask the Princess. I just came here to take you."
He turned to the four people standing around, trying very intently not to look as if they were eavesdropping.
One of them - a man, roughly the same age as Edge, smiled broadly. "'Crafts on the street, people; out here, it's good tarmac. Edge? You up for piloting the old lady? Cargo for Erusea."
The woman laughed: "What, just because I was the one of us who kept flying professionally after the last war? But yeah, old geezer, I'll take the old lady. Dr. Schröder, pack your equipment."
The engineer nodded, hijacked Ionela's bodyguards, and vanished, while she asked: "So, Edge. What is your real name, then?"
"Kei Nagase. Yeah, like the astronaut; that's why I go by my TAC. Not that our fearless leader could ever remember another name", she said with a playful bit of scorn, pointing at the other man, who was now hurrying to the F-16 to work on some pre-flight checks.
It took a few hours, but then they were ready for departure. Ionela had learned why the barns had been so huge; besides the equipment of Dr. Schröder, they had housed three old, if still serviceable, F-16C and a transport plane. Edge had led her to it, watching as Dr. Schröder and the agents tied down the last pieces of equipment.
"Aren't you a fighter pilot as well?" Ionela asked.
Kei smiled: "Yes, but my plane's appropriately stored. In fact, I had this C1 mothballed before some crazed Belkan had knocked on my door and asked me to get in touch with my old squadron. Took me a day or two to get the old lady running again, but she isn't as fussy as a high-performance fighter."
She motioned Ionela to move to the rear compartment as she began her start-up ritual, re-checking her flight plan and starting the engines so she could taxi on the empty street.
Ionela sat down on the uncomfortable bench seat, strapping herself in. Schröder, flanked by an agent, sat opposite her and waited for her to finish her preparation before saying:
"Miss Shilage? If I work for Erusea again - would you be my assistant? I need one, and I need someone to stop me from going too far. I cannot trust myself with that."
She thought of her grandfather, of her sister. If she accepted his plea, she would probably not see them for the duration. But if she declined...
"Yes. That would be wise."
Erusea, Farbanti, 10 hours after Trigger drove off the battleship
Princess Cosette stared at the report in her slender hand. She looked immaculate, as usual, even if her last night of uninterrupted sleep had been - had it been after the battle of the Lighthouse? She took another sip of the black mass that her cook called coffee while on the other end of the ramshackle video conferencing system a man, clad in shadows, informed her with a deep bass tone that Osea had left the XCom project.
"First Belka, now the Oseans? That is a harsh blow, indeed. How is T- Strider Squadron?"
The Speaker nodded and replied:
"Strider squadron had no losses; Mobius squadron lost two fighters, Bard squadron another one. XCom Usea had the best results; the aliens inflicted higher casualties on the other areas. Regarding Strider 1, he is currently under observation. He is well, but he has... changed. But the Council continues to trust in the Commander."
Except for Belka and Osea, of course.
"I thank you for this update, Speaker. The Kingdom of Erusea is still committed to the XCom project as well."
Then she sighed.
"Speaker? How does one know when it is time to break one's own rules?"
The older man was silent for a minute, considering, thinking, before he replied, calm and collected. He would be as cold as ice when his office stood in flame, Cosette was sure.
"You cannot know, Princess. You have to act and pray that you acted rightly. And remember. We will be watching."
The video stream flickered out, leaving only the black background to mirror her worries. She had to do something. The war went badly. But dared she to call upon all her resources?
And dared she not to?
She tossed and turned that night, again, like every time, nightmares vivid and unbidden. She smelled the exhaust of the Gründer drones racing towards her. She heard the crashing metal that had cost Tabloid his life. She saw the stupid little girl listening to the wrong military advisors. She felt the burning beam of death that had sunk the Gullfaxi turn her skin to ashes. After two hours, she gave up, fighting herself out of the far too comfy bed in the Farbanti palace and went to the computer. In the aftermath of the satellite rain, intercontinental communications were still a blind gamble; but thankfully, this time, the person she wanted to call was in Usea. After all, there was only one person she could trust with her crazy idea; and if it were too insane, she would call Cosette out.
"Ionela? I am sorry to call at this late an hour, but I have a request...."
Osea, Viridian Plains, three days later
It had been difficult to leave both her grandfather and her little sister behind. But Ionela A. Shillage had been accustomed to hard decisions during the war. Doubt ravaged her mind on that fool's errand Cosette had sent her, especially with only two men as helpers/bodyguards. The Erusean secret service had kept an eye on Dr. Schröder, even after the government had released him, and thankfully he had moved out of Belka shortly before they announced their alliance with the aliens.
Now she was standing here, in Bumfuck Nowhere, Osea, on open plains of farmland. The next city was fifty kilometers away; she could see nothing but long, straight streets and the small farm that was her target. For a homestead, it remarkably lacked any, well, farming; a small vegetable garden was the most horticulture she had seen. It seemed excessive to have three large steel barns.
Ionela turned to the agent on her left: "And we are sure that Dr. Schröder is here?"
The man nodded wordlessly. Gathering her breath, she straightened herself and strode purposefully towards the door to the main building.
She rang the bell - one that played a custom melody - and waited patiently. After half a minute, an older woman of Asian descent went out, wearing a faded pilot's jacket of some airline over a sundress:
"Yes, dear? What can I do for you? And for those two strapping young government men?"
"My name is Ionela A. Shilage, ma'am. I am looking for Dr. Schröder."
The woman laughed: "Ma'am? Do I look that old? Call me Edge. And the doc's in the hangar, together with the rest of the squadron."
The woman - Edge? - led them to the first of the large steel barns. A hangar? Ionela couldn't see a runway. Why call it a hangar?
The Asian nestled on a remote, and the high gates swung open wide. Inside, she could see four men and.. was that an F-16, painted in a distinctive pattern of red and white? Yes, it was. Disarmed, from what she could see, but that pattern reminded her of something.
"Dr. Schröder? You have a guest."
The Belkan man turned to her, blanched, but he came anyway, while their host went to take his place, muttering something about the cost of keeping that old bird flightworthy far away from civilization.
"Ionela?" he asked sheepishly. "What are you doing here?"
She did not know what exactly she felt as she saw the man that had given her so much grief. Pity? Hatred? Anger? All that, but in the end, Dr. Schröder had taken the right path. She had to use a gun for intimidation, but it was more than some had done.
"Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise requests and requires your help with the defense of Erusea against the alien threat. We are still co-operating with the international efforts, but we need more. I do not have a country anymore, and no one has the endless skies. Will you help us?"
It had cost her something, Ionela was sure, to say these words. She didn't know what. But maybe she wasn't better than Cosette, or Dr. Schröder, anyway.
The Belkan man sighed: "Yes. I have been working on something, but.. it is not yet ready. Is Erusea using the flight data analyzers I provided during the la-" he cut off, ashamed.
"You'll have to ask the Princess. I just came here to take you."
He turned to the four people standing around, trying very intently not to look as if they were eavesdropping.
One of them - a man, roughly the same age as Edge, smiled broadly. "'Crafts on the street, people; out here, it's good tarmac. Edge? You up for piloting the old lady? Cargo for Erusea."
The woman laughed: "What, just because I was the one of us who kept flying professionally after the last war? But yeah, old geezer, I'll take the old lady. Dr. Schröder, pack your equipment."
The engineer nodded, hijacked Ionela's bodyguards, and vanished, while she asked: "So, Edge. What is your real name, then?"
"Kei Nagase. Yeah, like the astronaut; that's why I go by my TAC. Not that our fearless leader could ever remember another name", she said with a playful bit of scorn, pointing at the other man, who was now hurrying to the F-16 to work on some pre-flight checks.
It took a few hours, but then they were ready for departure. Ionela had learned why the barns had been so huge; besides the equipment of Dr. Schröder, they had housed three old, if still serviceable, F-16C and a transport plane. Edge had led her to it, watching as Dr. Schröder and the agents tied down the last pieces of equipment.
"Aren't you a fighter pilot as well?" Ionela asked.
Kei smiled: "Yes, but my plane's appropriately stored. In fact, I had this C1 mothballed before some crazed Belkan had knocked on my door and asked me to get in touch with my old squadron. Took me a day or two to get the old lady running again, but she isn't as fussy as a high-performance fighter."
She motioned Ionela to move to the rear compartment as she began her start-up ritual, re-checking her flight plan and starting the engines so she could taxi on the empty street.
Ionela sat down on the uncomfortable bench seat, strapping herself in. Schröder, flanked by an agent, sat opposite her and waited for her to finish her preparation before saying:
"Miss Shilage? If I work for Erusea again - would you be my assistant? I need one, and I need someone to stop me from going too far. I cannot trust myself with that."
She thought of her grandfather, of her sister. If she accepted his plea, she would probably not see them for the duration. But if she declined...
"Yes. That would be wise."
