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Subject: "(EXILE) Reunion part 1 of 6 : Rendevous"     Previous Topic | Next Topic
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Apr-21-07, 09:21 PM (EDT)
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"(EXILE) Reunion part 1 of 6 : Rendevous"
 
   Thursday, June 20, 2374
Zeta Cygni System
Cygnus Sector
1100 hours GST

R-minus 14:01:00:00.00

Jonathan "Boozey" Hawkes was not a man particularly given to introspection. As a mercenary aerospace fighter pilot, he went where the boss told him to go and shot whomever the contract said was the enemy this month. It suited his temperament and ego to just hang back and let the boss handle the "heavy lifting" when it came to the negotiation end of things: making the necessary arrangements with the client, avoiding any contractual pitfalls, keeping their asses out of the fire, et cetera. He'd been hired for his flying skills, not his long-range planning ability.

This wasn't to say Hawkes was stupid or dumb, however. You don't last long in the mercenary business without some measure of inherent common sense, doubly so if you're flying a hotrodded Incom T-65A Dragonfly. You don't pay attention to things in a furball, and you become dead very very quickly.

That said, he couldn't help but wonder what the boss had arranged for them this time. She'd said it was going to be another standard escort mission, and had sent her crew chief and three other members of the squadron with their fighters to make contact with the client. Together, they'd enter hyperspace and then rendevous with them here. But who the hell wanted to make a rendevous at Zeta Cygni? The system was abandoned, had been for decades. Nobody came here, nobody wanted to be here. Ever since the collapse of the Wedge Defense Force, the system had had a bad reputation. It was a forlorn, forsaken place populated with the ghosts of a long-faded past.

But even with his personal reservations in mind, he maintained a professional demeanor and did as the boss ordered. Libby Jenius was a stern but fair commander, who managed to get such disparate personalities as Karl "Calvin" Klein and Harry "Hobbes" Watterson to work together, who watched over the members of the squadron in the air and on the ground, and who was an absolute pro when leading the Southern Cross Crusaders into battle. Hawkes felt he owed her the same professionalism in return.

And besides -- the jobs she got them paid very, very well.

His headset beeped for attention. He tagged the comm controls. "Credit for your thoughts, Boozey?" asked the voice (female, pleasant) on the other end.

"Huh? Nah, not really, Sparks," Hawkes replied. "Just wondering how long we're gonna have to wait out here before I need to hit the head."

"Well, it's your fault if you can't hold it," the voice of Carella "Sparks" Sansen replied. "We all told you and Carole to go before we left."

There was a snort over the comm as another female voice joined in. "Hey, I wasn't the one who felt the need to sample that last bottle of Ol' Janx Spirit at the bar - "

"Yeah, but you were the one who pointed it out, Xmas," Boozey replied with a grin in his voice. "You know I can't resist sampling the classics."

He could almost hear Carole "Xmas" Greenhouse's eyes roll over the commlink. "Excuses, excuses, Boozey..."

Further conversation was cut off as the squadron's scanners went off all at once. Hawkes straightened in his seat, tightening his harness and checking his displays, even as the voice of their boss came out over the common band.

"Look sharp, Crusaders," Libby Jenius's voice announced. "The rest of the squad's arriving with our first guests."

As one, the four fighters of the Southern Cross Crusaders powered up and flew into formation as the distinctive flash-displacement of ships exiting hyperspace made itself known.

The new arrivals were the other four members of the squadron, flying in two-element pairs in a standard escort pattern, bracketing a larger, cherry-red Horizon-class transport. The ships slowed as they bled off residual speed from the hyperspace jump.

"Crusader Eight to Crusader One," announced the voice of their boss's crew chief, Erin Chao, over the squadron band. "The Flarefire is in the box. I repeat, Flarefire is in the box."

"Read you five by five, Crusader Eight," Jenius replied. "Crusaders got the box."

At this, Hawkes grinned. The Flarefire! They'd run escort for the ship before, and he always looked forward to that particular job. The red ship was the personal transport of Mylene Flare, one of the hottest acts in the galactic music business. Flying with Mylene and her band not only paid well, the squadron always got front-row or backstage passes to her concerts, and the end-of-tour parties she held were nights to remember long after the fact.

While not heavily armed, the Flarefire was tough, well-crewed, and the closest thing the Crusaders had to a home port. They'd been through a lot together over the years, and a friendly rapport had developed between the pilots and the band and crew. This new rendevous promised to lead to something interesting, indeed.

As Hawkes mulled this over in his mind, the rest of the squadron pulled together around the transport. He checked the radar scans once more as they flew, and then he pulled up short. What had the boss meant when she'd said "first guests"?

R-minus 14:00:21:02.10

Erin Chao, the technician/crew chief/wrench-girl for the Southern Cross Crusaders, settled back in her VE-1 Seeker Valkyrie's seat as she watched the rest of the squadron come to station-keeping positions around the much larger Horizon-class transport. It hadn't been all that hard to find Mylene Flare; she was very well known in the galactic rock 'n roll scene. All one had to do is check the star's Internet fansites to find out her current tour dates, locations, and most recent random Mylene Flare sightings.

Getting Mylene, her band, and her crew's transport off Trafalgar IV without tipping off her record company and fans, that had been the tricky part. Fortunately, Mylene Flare and company were quite skilled at shaking unwanted tails, and the Southern Cross Crusaders had more than ample practice in executing extraction missions. Some sensor spoofing, some false IFF's, and some "screamer" buoys dropped by the Flarefire, and they'd been off Trafalgar and into hyperspace before the legion of fanboys could realize what had happened.

Now all that was left was the waiting. Crusader Eight was quite skilled at that by this point. Erin Chao usually spent more time waiting for the Crusaders to return to the "barn du jour" than participating in the combat missions, but her two-seater Seeker Valkyrie stayed prepped and ready on the flightline just in case there was the need to perform some emergency ECCCM or CSAR during a battle. If it came down to a fight while carrying those duties out, she could hold her own.

But while she was long-practiced at the art of combat waiting, that didn't mean everyone was the same. With quiet amusement, Erin watched as her scanners reported an upswing of local comm traffic between the Flarefire and the rest of the Crusaders. This wasn't too surprising; the pilots of the Crusaders and the members of Flare's road crew had formed good friendships over the years. She just relaxed, waiting for what was to come next.

Half an hour later, Chao was running some diagnostics on the starboard pod's linear AWACS/ELINT array when a soft chirping sound echoed through her helmet speakers. For a moment, she thought it was due to an error catch on one of the linear array's processor units, but a quick check of her VDU showed that this was not the case. She blinked, halted the diagnostic, and changed scan modes.

What her sensors indicated caused her eyebrows to go up.

She tabbed another control, opening a direct line to her boss. "Lib? It's time."

There was a moment's pause, and then a quick reply on the same channel. "I see it, 'rin." Erin nodded to herself and brought her Valkyrie up to full power as Libby Jenius's voice went out over the squadron band.

"Heads up, Crusaders. Incoming spacefold. Prepare for station-keeping versus gravimetric displacement. Flarefire, hold your position. Crusaders, maintain weapons safe."

Erin Chao split her attention, watching as the rest of the squadron's RCS units and main drives spooled up from standby while also noting the output of her subspace sensors. A local distortion of spacetime was developing, at first only recognizeable to her sensors, then becoming more prominent and visible to the naked eye.

Finally, with a bending, twisting flare of light, the Southern Cross Crusaders and the Flarefire were no longer alone in the Zeta Cygni system.

About a hundred miles out, an arrangement of brilliant dark green starships appeared. They were long, rounded oblongs, studded with the spines and spires of sensors and weapon emplacements. They were not huge in number - but they didn't need to be. Only a fool would challenge even the smallest of Zentraedi warships, and these were not small scouts or transports, but the much more massive cruisers and destroyers of a Zentraedi patrol battlegroup.

The chatter over the squadron band picked up, relaying the sounds of surprise of the other pilots to Chao's ears. She smiled slightly, then hrmed. The battlegroup was currently moving into a convoy escort formation, now that the fold effect had dissipated, and revealing another ship that had been in the center. She tabbed some more controls, and her Valkyrie's all-condition camera pivoted to study the last ship.

What was in the middle of the 'miniature' fleet was no Zentraedi warship. It was much more blocky than the standard psuedo-organic Zentraedi hull design, clearly a product of human heavy industry. The ship was painted in bright blue thermocoat. Wide hangars, bordered with yellow and black safety stripes, were open at the fore and flanks. A multitude of sensor arrays, fusion diffusers, tractor beam projectors, and defensive emplacements were scattered along the sides.

But what was most remarkable about the vessel was that it practically dwarfed its escorts - and the automated shipyards of the Zentraedi were not known for building small.

Hawkes' voice crackled over the Crusader's commline, his vocal tone one of clear surprise. "Holy shit, is that...?"

"An Architect-class constructor! Damn, Libby, when you get us contracts, you don't mess around."

A faint chuckle answered from Jenius's ship. "Oh believe me, Sparks, it only gets better from here. Crusaders, form up on the Flarefire and follow me!"

With practiced efficency, the Southern Cross Crusaders moved into a standard box formation around the Horizon transport, and together they flew among the outlying Zentraedi ships toward the much more massive vessel in the middle. As they approached, they could see the wide block-serif corporate emblem along the side, painted boldly in blue and white thermocoat:


CIANBRO Corporation
"The Constructor of Choice"
CCS FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT

Further ruminations as to what this fleet's appearance could mean were cut off, as a clear, strong voice announced over the common frequency band:

"Attention approaching starfighters and transport. This is Captain Emilia Sterling, commander of the Cianbro Corporation constructor vessel Frank Lloyd Wright. Identify yourselves."

Libby Jenius couldn't keep the smile out of her voice as she pushed to talk and answered, "Captain Sterling... this is Lieutenant Commander Komilia Dana Sterling, callsign Miss Liberty, requesting permission to come aboard. The Southern Cross Crusaders are escorting the transport Flarefire out of Nessus - Mylene Flare, shipowner, who also wishes to board."

There was a combined gasp over the squadron's private band, and an induldgent chuckle from Crusader Eight.

Emilia replied with a similar grin, "Permission granted, Lt. Commander Sterling, Miss Flare. Welcome aboard!"

R-minus 13:23:20:05.12

Emilia Sterling, captain of the Frank Lloyd Wright, stood in the observation/control room overlooking Utility/Cargo Hangar Five. She watched over the shoulders of the bay technicians as the hangar crew cleared the last of the miscellaneous construction equipment and crates out from the landing deck. It pleased her that, even now, her crew was showing a calm professionalism, as if taking onboard a mercenary fighter squadron and a high-profile rock star were the most ordinary things in the world. It helped bolster her own confidence, tamping down some of the anticipation and nervousness that lurked deep within her heart.

Outwardly, there was no sign she was nervous. An athletic woman who looked as though she were in her early twenties, Captain Sterling had a neatly trimmed pageboy bob of dark blue hair, deep green eyes, and a calmly professional demeanor, the last accentuated by the trim and neatly pressed Cianbro Constructor Fleet captain's uniform she wore. White and blue with gold trim, it made her look a little like a businesswoman and a little like an airline pilot - which was, of course, the whole idea.

Emilia had come a long way from her start as a fresh-faced WDF Destroid jockey. If you'd asked her 85 years ago where she'd thought she would be today, she would have postulated that she would have been leading one of the WDF's elite Destroid regiments, having worked her way up first the enlisted and then the commissioned ranks. The thoughts of ever going independent, or worse, corporate, would have been the furthest thing from her mind.

But that was before the fall of the Wedge Defense Force and the Wayward Son. Before the GENOM death squads and the Destroid Battlesport arenas of Jugenheim and Solaris. Before her bold proclamation to the universe that she was a daughter of the Sterlings and damn proud of it, to hell with the consequences. Since then, her life had taken various strange and unpredictable twists, not least the ones that had brought her to find security and support within the ranks of Cianbro Corporation.

Was this another mask? Perhaps, but in plying her skills working Destroid site security for the construction company, she had found an actual talent for the things that Cianbro valued. The maverick spirit that had moved the company's managers to hire a self-declared Wedge Defender in the first place had meshed well with her own philosophy. Before she had fully realized it, she had moved up in the ranks and into the corporate offices, coordinating the entire company's security assets.

And from there, it had been a surprisingly easy sidestep to command of one of the company's great constructor ships...

"Ma'am? They're coming in," reported one of the technicians, interrupting her reverie.

Emilia's focus returned to the here-and-now, and she nodded. "Good. Direct the Crusaders to Bay One, the Flarefire to Bay Four. I'm expecting more guests before the day is out. Let them know we're willing to use tractors if they need them."

The technicians nodded and plied their boards, forwarding landing instructions to the approaching ships. Alarms hooted out in the hangar bay proper, and the deck crew backed up out of the way to avoid being run over. Through the control room's viewport and the various displays, Emilia watched as the eight fightercraft of the Southern Cross Crusaders peeled off in two rows from the approaching Horizon-class transport, and then smoothly reformed around their lead element. The Flarefire slowed, pivoted about its vertical axis, and slowly backed into Bay Four, aided by one of the internal tractor arrays.

At the same time, the Crusaders slowed and touched down in Bay One. Four of them were variable configuration, four of them were fixed, all eight of them painted in bright scarlet and black livery. The Veritech fighters went to GERWALK mode for the landing: an old-time VF-1J Super Valkyrie; a VE-1 Seeker Valkyrie equipped with a set of unarmed VT-1 trainer-type booster packs instead of the usual rotating disc radome; a VA-1 Judicator, looking as always like a scaled-up Strike Valkyrie; and an angular, fork-shaped fightercraft that twitched and then pivoted its changed wings down to the deck, outboard thrusters pulling into the sides of the central fuselage, thick arms lowering. A nasty-looking particle cannon flipped around from underneath the fighter to above the back of the canopy, completing the ship's transformation into an instantly recognizable shape.

A Variable Glaug! Emilia realized. I haven't seen one of those since before the WDF folded, or outside of the Zentraedi fleets even then! I wonder where they dug that up? She shook her head and issued new orders. "Hangar crews, provide full egress and resupply support to the fighters, and secure and refuel the Horizon transport."

The same technician from before nodded and relayed the orders. "And you, ma'am?"

She stood up a little straighter, flattening the creases of her uniform. "I'm heading down there to greet our guests."

R-minus 13:23:10:34.47

Komilia Sterling, known at varying times and places in the past as Miss Liberty, Eight-Ball Eight, Crusader One, and Libby Jenius, powered down her Valkyrie and ran through her postflight checklist. Everything inside was in order, the landing area was free of debris, the hangar's atmosphere stable and temperate. The fighter was positioned for a rapid egress if needed, and she could see through the canopy that the rest of her squadron had done the same.

As she looked at them, Komilia felt a pang of guilt. Her little "reveal" on the comm with Emi had seemed like a nice dramatic flourish at the time, but now that she'd had a few moments to think about it, she felt like a bit of an ass - not for blowing her cover, but for doing it in such an offhanded, cavalier way. Until now, only "Erin Chao" had known her true identity, and vice versa; they had kept the shared secret of their parentage from the rest of the Crusaders for years, out of necessity in the beginning and out of habit as the decades passed. Whole generations of pilots had come and gone again without ever learning who their leader and her crew chief really were.

But now, things were different. She didn't fully know how the rest of her squadron would react to this demonstration of long-term distrust, despite their long association. Of all the members of the Southern Cross Crusaders who had been part of the organization over the years, these last six had endured the longest and been through some of the toughest missions together. Would that be enough for them to overlook this level of perceived betrayal, let alone just having it dumped in their laps like that? And did she deserve it, even if they did?

Her helmet speakers crackled as a direct line opened from Sparks' cockpit. "Hey, boss?"

"Mm?" Komilia shook her head, and returned the call. "Yes, Carella?"

"Look. Me and the others, we discussed things on the way in." There was a pause, and then Carella Sansen went on. "We don't care what your name is, or where you came from. You covered our asses out in the black, and made us better pilots - better people - than any of us thought we could be. You had your reasons, and times back then sucked. We just wanted you to know, before you start beating yourself over it, you are the commander of the Crusaders, and we'll follow you all the way."

Komilia blinked, blushed, and was quietly thankful she had yet to remove her helmet. "Thank you, Carella," she replied in a near whisper, honestly touched.

"Null persperation," Sparks replied offhandedly. "Oh, by the way, looks like the hangar crew's wheeling a ladder over. I better get off the line before I get really mushy."

Komilia laughed, her self-pitying mood broken by Carella's blunt words and good humor. "All right. See you deckside."

With her spirits lifted, Komilia unfastened her seat harness, popped the canopy, and removed her helmet. She stood up in her seat and saw a couple of Cianbro techs rolling an egress ladder to her Valkyrie's cockpit. Smiling to herself, she hopped lightly over the coaming and descended, taking her helmet with her.

She exchanged pleasantries with the technicians, gave them permission to service her ride, and then turned to regard the rest of the hangar. It was open to space on one side, wide enough to admit a large bulk freighter lengthwise if need be, and possessing sufficent depth towards the inner bulkheads. Off in the distance she could see the Flarefire being similarly tended to.

"So, boss," asked a voice from behind her, "where's the welcoming commitee?"

"Hm?" Komilia tilted her head up and back. Behind her loomed the towering form of Carole Greenhouse (the pilot of the squadron's Variable Glaug), all eight and a half feet of her.

"If I were to wager a guess, Xmas, I'd say it's coming this way," replied Sparks, having finally disembarked from her own fighter, a lovingly maintained 2015-vintage SF-14H Space Tomcat.

"Oh? Oh, now I see them," the taller woman answered. From the inner bulkhead wall, a large service door had opened, admitting a group of technicians, security guards, and in the lead a serious-looking young woman clad in a Cianbro fleet uniform/business suit. "I can see the resemblance." Xmas looked down at her squadron leader. "You're both short." She grinned.

"Hah," Komilia replied. She shook her head and squared her shoulders. With her pilots behind her, she purposefully strode towards the woman in the lead of the Cianbro employees.

The two women stood straight and tall as the two groups came to a halt, facing each other. They saluted in unison, looking each other square in the eye as they did so.

"Captain Sterling..."

"Lieutenant Commander Sterling..."

There was a moment's silence, and then all formality was dropped as Komilia dropped her helmet to the decking and moved forward to seize her younger sister Emilia in a powerful hug. "Oh God it's been too damn long, Emi," she breathed, reassuring herself of the reality of the situation by their mutual contact.

Emilia smiled, willingly returning the hug. "No damn fooling, sis. This has been way overdue."

A voice from the Crusader line spoke up. "What, no hug for me? I feel forgotten and neglected. I'm crushed." The other Crusaders blinked, looking over at Erin Chao, who was grinning broadly as she watched the scene.

Snorting, Emilia seperated from Komilia to make room for their mutual sister. Erin Chao, still grinning, handed off her helmet to Carella Sansen. As she crossed to Emilia, she pulled back a cuff of her jumpsuit and gently squeezed a point on her exposed wrist. Her hair color lightened and reddened, changing from its unprepossessing brown to a much more noticeable magenta, as Therèse Sterling stepped forward to join in the mutual sibling appreciation society.

Behind the three Sterlings, one of the Crusaders, a shaggy-haired man whose bangs seemed to cover his eyes, elbowed his nearest wingmate in the side. "Toldja. Pay up, man," he said with a grin.

Clean-cut Karl Klein sighed, rolled his eyes, and slipped Harry Watterson a 20-salcred note.

R-minus 13:22:51:00.00

Komilia, Therèse, and Emilia, now reunited, sized up the Flarefire, which was still being serviced at the opposite end of the hangar.

"Hrm. I wonder what's taking Mylene so long to disembark?" Emilia wondered.

"Beats me, Emi," answered Therèse. "She's probably waiting to make a big entrance. You know how these big-time rock stars get - egos the size of Jupiter and all that."

"Hah. You and Komilia would have a better idea than me; it was you two who followed her off Cybertron, remember?"

"Details, details..."

Further conversation was cut off as the hanger's alarms once again came to life. Komilia glanced at Emilia, who didn't look all that surprised at the interruption. "More guests arriving?"

"Mm-hmm," Emilia nodded. "One of whom you should be familiar with."

Komilia raised an eyebrow and turned around, and then smiled as she could spot two figures out in the distance of space, rapidly approaching the hangar. As they closed in, they became more recognizable to those assembled, prompting surprise from the Crusaders and satisfaction from the Sterlings.

They looked like two suits of powered space armor, massive and powerfully built, scaled for giants to wear them. For that indeed was what they were: Queadluun-Rau Meltrandi battlesuits, the elite armored weapons of the Zentraedi/Meltrandi fleets. Painted green, grey, and white, they smoothly slipped through the hangar's atmospheric retention field and touched down on the decking remarkly lightly for their size.

To Komilia and Therèse's surprise, one of them was carrying what looked to be a Zentraedi cargo container in its arms. They glanced over at Emilia, who seemed to be expecting this. "Wait for it..." she answered them, and the two older Sterlings looked back at the scene playing out in front of them.

The Queadluun-Rau with the container kneeled down and carefully set it on the decking, as if it had been carrying a cargo of fragile treasures within. It pressed a control, and a hatch opened slowly on the side of the container, lowering down to the hangar floor.

"Finally," a voice from within spoke. A voice that was familiar to Komilia, Therèse, and Emilia. "It took you two long enough."

The armored Meltrandi who had entered the hangar bay looked sheepish, if indeed it was possible for massive space battlesuits to carry off such an expression. They then straightened and saluted the diminutive figure that that was now exiting the container.

"Very sorry, Vice Admiral!" one of them declared in a resounding, amplified, but unmistakably female voice.

The woman who exited returned the salute as she glanced up at the armors. "At ease, lieutenants." She turned and surveyed the hangar bay with fey teal eyes. "Now then..." Her eyes set upon the gathered Sterlings, and then with a satisfied nod, she hopped over the edge of the lowered hatch.

Within moments, the woman reached the gathering crowd, her uniform's short cape and swallowtail jacket trailing behind her as she walked. She strode directly for Emilia Sterling, who looked quietly amused at the woman's formality, but she returned her crisp salute with respect.

"Captain Emilia Sterling, I thank you for allowing me to board. On behalf of Meltrandi Battlegroup Quevillon, I hope only for the greatest success for our combined endeavor."

"Vice Admiral Xeralia Fallyna Sterling, it is an honor and a pleasure to welcome you aboard." With that, Emilia dropped her formal posture and grinned. "Now, stop standing so straight, damn you. I'm getting a crick in the back just looking at you!"

Xeralia laughed, dropping her own rigid formality. She stretched her arms back, then rubbed at her shoulders, removing her half-cape in the process. "The first days downsized are always a pain." Folding her cape over her arm, she turned and smiled at Therèse and Komilia. "Breetai's balls, it's good to see you two again."

The two women looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so. "Xera! You got micronized!" blurted Therèse, even as Xeralia started exchanging hugs with her adoptive family members.

The shorter woman snorted, even as she hugged her younger sibling. "And this surprises you why, Terry?"

"Um, well..." the magenta-haired woman looked embarrased, returning the hug. "It's just... so sue me, I usually expect you to be taller."

"Bah. As much fun as it is to tower over you all, it makes it somewhat difficult to exchange hugs. I mean, you're such fragile Microns. I wouldn't want to accidentally crush you." She winked over her shoulder at Therèse as she let go and then turned to hug Komilia.

Komilia smiled and ruffled Xeralia's curly scarlet hair. "Practical, as always."

"Hey, I learned from the best." She let go, then looked around the hangar bay. "So, where's the youngest of our clan? And what about the Legios Twins? I know we got a message acknowledgement from those two before we left Reflex Point."

"If you wanted to know where I was, all you had to do was ask!" proclaimed another familiar voice. The four women turned, and this time it was Emilia and Xeralia's turn to be surprised, while Komilia and Therèse savored the chance to be smug. Striding towards them was Mylene Flare Sterling, their youngest sister, standing tall and proud as she led her bandmembers across the hangar bay.

"... Good God, Mylene, what happened to you?" Emilia exclaimed, her eyes wide, taking in the sight. All of them had as a matter of course purchased Mylene Flare's albums over the past decades; even if she wasn't their sibling, they were still strong, high-powered rock albums. They all had some idea of how well the pink-haired singer had grown up.

But seeing their youngest sister on the cover of a magazine or the video of an interview was one thing. Seeing her in the flesh was another matter entirely.

Mylene grinned, and did a quick concert turn. "I grew up! You like?" she said with a wink. Clad in a formfitting red spacer's jumpsuit, streaked with orange and yellow 'go-faster' stripes along the arms and sides, Mylene was definitely no longer the short-and-cute fourteen-year-old that Emilia and Xeralia's minds remembered. Her long pink hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but arranged so as not to get entangled with the guitar slung on her back. She wore fingerless leather gloves, sturdy boots, a belt with various pouches and technological bits hooked on it...

... and was that a holster with a WSTE-M combat shotgun Emilia saw strapped to Mylene's right thigh? Yes, she believed it was, and there was even a small row of cartridges strapped along the opposite side, for quick reloading in a fight.

Xeralia disengaged from the rest and walked a slow circuit around Mylene, taking in her new look with a critical eye.

"Hrrrmm... Not bad, not bad, little sis. Clean-cut, efficent, full range of motion, fast-draw on the holster... capable of slaying any humanoid male lifeform within a hundred feet by looks alone. I approve." Xeralia grinned, looking up at the pink-haired singer. "But where's the dust speck, Mylene?"

" 'Dust speck' ?" Mylene blinked, then realization dawned in her eyes. "Oh! You mean Guvava? He's right here." She reached up to the neck of her jumpsuit, grabbed the tab of the zipper, and pulled it down halfway to the middle of her chest. She reached in and pulled out a small, brown-furred bundle with slowly opening eyes. The creature blinked and yawned, letting out a series of drowsy squeaks. "Here," Mylene said as she handed the rodent to Xeralia. "Be careful, he's getting on in years."

Xeralia nodded and began to gently scratch Guvava, who responded positively to the treatment. His fur was a little grey in some places, but the creature was still comforting to hold. With Guvava in her hands and her smiling sister nearby, Xeralia found that she could cope with the changes the youngest had undergone over the years.

Emilia, having observed the exchange between the two, wasn't doing quite as well. "... My baby sister... has cleavage. My worldview is shattered."

Mylene smirked. "I see you missed my last Rolling Stone cover, then."

"WHAT?!"

Mylene laughed, waving her hands to try and calm her older sister. "Relax, relax, it was tasteful!"

Emilia groaned, putting her face in her hands. "We're dead. We're SO dead. Mom's gonna kill ALL of us."

R-minus 13:22:23:00.00

Emilia was spared further mortification in front of her siblings, crewmembers, and guests by a bleeping chime from the waist pocket of her uniform. Letting out a sound of relief, her hand darted into the pocket and pulled out her sleek company-issue dataphone. Shifting immediately back into command mode (much to the amusement of her other siblings), she spoke briskly into the phone as she held it up to her ear. "Sterling here. Go ahead."

There was a momentary pause as she listened intently to the voice on the other end, and her brow furrowed slightly. "Can you get an identification on it?"

The other Sterling siblings looked at each other curiously, not about to interrupt Emilia's conversation - save for Xeralia, who was looking curiously at a communicator of her own, which she had just withdrawn from her uniform jacket. She opened it, then started speaking in Meltranese to somebody on the other side. Not that it mattered - all of the siblings knew their mother's native tongue. From what they could tell by listening in, it was a conversation along the same lines as what Emilia was conducting with her own officers.

"... I see. Transmit confirmation code thirty-three-delta-niner. ... All right, that's the correct response. ... It's confirmed? ... Good. Give them an approach vector to U/C Hangar Five. We'll be waiting. Sterling out." Emilia pulled the dataphone away from her ear, just in time to see Xeralia lowering her communicator and putting it away. "You too?"

Xeralia nodded in reply. "Mmm-hmm."

Mylene looked between the two of them. "Okay, okay, you two, what the hell was that about?"

Emilia tsked. "Language, baby sister..."

Mylene rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

Xeralia chuckled at the sight. "It would appear, Mylene, that the last two of our number have finally arrived - "

"Oh! Well, that's good, at least..."

" - and they brought something rather bigger than we anticipated," Emilia continued. "And here it comes now."

"Huh?" Mylene blinked, turned, and her eyes widened. She was joined by Komilia and Therèse, and the three of them watched as a starship, long and proportionately narrow but more angular in line than the Zentraedi vessels, came into to view, slowing as it pulled alongside the Frank Lloyd Wright. It was close enough so that all assembled could see the gun turret emplacements atop the foredeck in front of the command tower and those below the keel, the multiple brawny sublight thrusters jutting from the tail end, and the rectangular gunmetal hatches that protected the hangar bays on its side.

Everybody there who had at least a modicum of military space training recognized the design, but Therèse was the first one to speak up about it. "Hey, an Ikazuchi. You don't see those as often these days."

Komilia peered at the side of the starship, focussing on its identifying marks. Her blue-green eyebrows went up with surprise as she recognized the logo and the name that accompanied it. " 'Mars Division' ? That has to be Maia's idea of a joke."

Therèse blinked at her older sister's words, and turned slightly to face her. "I dunno... I've heard rumors, Komi. Remember that job we had on Lazerian IV?"

Komilia looked thoughtful, trawling through her memories. "Huh. Now that you mention it..."

Xeralia then spoke up, interrupting the eldest's thoughts. "Interesting ship name, though. I sense Miranda's hand in that," she observed, indicating the letters painted in gold script above the "Mars Division" triangle emblem.

Komila considered the name spelled out by those letters, and drew a blank. "Oh? How?"

"Voronda Elendil means 'Faithful Elf-Friend' in one of those Elvish languages," Xarelia explained. "Mir's probably referring to the psuedo-historical High King Elendil, who remained faithful to his people's original principles. He escaped the fall of his homeland with his loyal followers when the rest of the Númenóreans succumbed to darkness and corruption and doomed their island home."

"And how, exactly, do you know this, Xera?"

"There's a Tolkien club on my flagship. Sometimes I sit in on their meetings."

"Oh."

Mylene pointed out towards the approaching carrier, interrupting Komilia and Xeralia's conversation. "Hey, look, one of the side hangars is opening - here they come!"

The group turned and watched as a dark speck departed from the side of the Ikazuchi, the only real indication of its existence being the blue backlighting of its fusion thrusters. The hangar deck's alarms sounded once more as the Shadow Legios slipped effortlessly through the atmosphere field, pivoted 180 degrees, and touched down on the decking with very little noise.

The canopy of the Alpha popped open, releasing an armored figure who descended the deployed boarding ladder. At the same time, the Beta's bomb-bay doors opened, allowing several other people to disembark. The Legios's two pilots (both clad in black CVR-3F armor) got together, quickly conferred between themselves, then headed over to the Sterling siblings. Once they were there, they removed their helmets in unison.

"Lieutenant Commander, Captain, Vice-Admiral, etcetera," the purple-haired, purple-eyed woman in the lead announced with a grin, "on behalf of the Mars Division, I'd just like to say 'Let's get this party started!'"

Her companion and co-pilot added with a smile, "The Fellowship of the Mars Division thanks you all for your kind words of support and invitation. We apologize if it was a little more than you were expecting to arrive." She bowed to the siblings, letting her braided green hair fall free from where it had been coiled and nestled at the nape of her neck.

Emilia laughed and pulled her two older sisters forward to be hugged. "Hah! You think that matters, you two? Especially with what Xera and I brought to the table? C'mere, you..."

The siblings laughed at the sight of Miranda Sterling looking profoundly apologetic, while Maia Sterling clapped her fraternal twin sister on the shoulder. Hugs were exchanged all around, and although Maia and Miranda were wearing CVR, nobody seemed to mind.

"Well, you two seem to have done well for yourselves." Therèse gestured out towards the starship. "Where'd you get that Ikazuchi?"

Maia grinned. "Found it!"

Therèse directed a dubious glance towards the twins. "Uh-huh."

"Honest, swear to Ilúvatar," Miranda replied. "It was a serious windfall for all of us, and we decided to put it to good use for the cause." She gestured behind herself at the other passengers of the Beta, who were now approaching.

"We just couldn't let you all know about it 'cause of the need for operational security and all that." Maia looked mildly apologetic. "That's why whenever we made contact with you all, it was just me and Mir in the Legios. Safer that way."

Komilia nodded, understanding all too well the situation the seven sisters had found themselves in over the past 85 years. "You're forgiven, Maia." She sized up the newcomers (two men and two women), and her expression became intent as she studied one of them. The younger man in the group looked unnervingly familiar, but she knew for a fact that she'd never seen him before in her life. "Hey, Maia?"

"Hm?

"Who's that guy in the mint-green CVR-3?"

Maia looked hesitant for a moment, and then plunged ahead as said personage came up to the two women. "Oh, hey, Komilia, this is... uh... Scott Bernard."

Komilia was speechless. She said, "."

The man, who had dark blue eyes, close-cut dark-blue hair, and a serious mien, smiled slightly as he extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Lt. Commander Sterling. I've heard quite a lot about you from your sisters."

"..."

Blinking, Scott Bernard looked over at Maia. "Commander, is she always like this?"

"Not usually," replied Therèse, answering before Maia could do so. "It's just been a rather busy day for her. She's still coping with all the new inputs." She grinned and nudged Komilia in the side.

"Aaah!" Startled, Komilia snapped back to the here-and-now. "Ah. Heh." She ran a hand through her blue-green hair, and then shook Scott's offered hand. "Sorry about that. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lt. Commander Bernard."

Bernard chuckled. His grip was firm, but not overpowering, a good match for Komilia's. "It's all right. I seem to have that effect on people," he added ruefully, glancing at Maia and Miranda. Miranda quietly giggled, while Maia rolled her eyes.

"I sense there's a story here..." Xeralia commented, her teal eyes twinkling.

"More like an entire novel," Maia muttered under her breath.

Xera grinned. "I look forward to hearing it."

Looking at her assembled siblings, Emilia raised her voice to get their attention. "Well, ladies... now that we're all here, shall we do something about correcting that little oversight?" She smiled, and gestured towards the inner service door. "I've already informed my staff that we'll be dining tonight in Conference One..."

Mylene smiled back. "Iiii think I can be convinced of that, right, Guvava?" Mylene's rodent pet perked up at the mention of food, squeaking eagerly.

"I second that motion," added Maia.

"I concur, the motion passes," Komilia declared. "Though, Emi? I don't suppose there's some space on this ship of yours for my pilots to bunk? It's been a long trip, and if they don't get fed, they'll have my head on a platter."

"Ditto that for my bandmembers and crew," Mylene added. "You guys good for some quality downtime?" The answer from Mylene's group was a resounding positive. "That's a yes!"

Miranda, meanwhile, looked at the four who had accompanied her and Maia to the Cianbro ship. "It's up to you guys; you didn't have to come along, but with Scott and Vince here, you can get back easily enough."

One of them, a beautiful-but-deadly-looking woman with upswept lime-green hair, wearing black and dark-pink CVR-3F armor, directed a questioning glance at the other woman, a redhead who happened to be clothed casually in jeans, blouse, and leather jacket. Although they didn't look much alike, something about them reminded Komilia strongly of Maia and Miranda - somehow, they were related, and connected in ways that were more than physical. After a moment, she realized that they had the same dark-scarlet eyes.

"I believe we shall remain here," announced the redheaded woman, looking around the hangar bay with wide red eyes. "This vessel is fascinating; I'd like to learn more about it."

The lime-haired woman nodded briskly, then turned her attention to Maia. "Commander, Ariel and I will stay here, for the time being." She smiled slightly. "To be honest, I doubt I'd be able to drag her away from this starship. At least not until she's explored three quarters of it."

The redhead blinked, and looked embarrased. "Sera! You know it's not like that..."

"Of course not, your majesty..." Sera's smile became more pronounced and teasing, and the redhead looked cutely perturbed.

Therèse leaned close to Miranda. "( 'Your majesty'?)"

Miranda glanced back, then replied in a sheepish whisper, "(It's a really, really long story.)"

Therèse slowly nodded, saving her questions for later. Instead, she looked over at Emilia, who had once again pulled out her dataphone and was now coordinating accomadations with her staff. After a couple of minutes, she put the phone away and looked at the assembled crowd.

"All right! I've just made arrangements for you all to stay in Residence Block Three for the time being - it's got good facilities and a private common dining area and recreation hall. Officer Tyrone here will be your guide; feel free to ask him if you need anything."

One of the Cianbro employees stepped forward and introduced himself as the officer in question; once he was sure that he had everybody from the three groups accounted for, he started to lead them into the depths of the starship.

Emilia watched them go, nodded with satisfaction, turned to face her sisters, and smiled. "Now then, if you'd all follow me, I think we have some catching up to do."

Komilia smiled. "Lead the way."

With that, the seven Sterling sisters left the hangar bay.

"Reunion, Part 1: Rendevous" - An Exile Mini-Story by Philip Jeremy Moyer
Reunion Mini-Serial Plotted by Philip J. Moyer
Special to the Eyrie Productions Discussion Forum
© 2007 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited


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  Subject     Author     Message Date     ID  
  Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA Gryphonadmin Apr-21-07 1
     RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA O_M Apr-21-07 3
     RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA Dranger Apr-22-07 5
     RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA Offsides Apr-22-07 6
         RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA Gryphonadmin Apr-22-07 7
             RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA Offsides Apr-22-07 8
  RE: (EXILE) Reunion part 1 of 6 : Rendevous Verbena Apr-21-07 2
  RE: (EXILE) Reunion part 1 of 6 : Rendevous BZArcher Apr-22-07 4

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Gryphonadmin
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Apr-21-07, 09:25 PM (EDT)
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1. "Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA"
In response to message #0
 
   LAST EDITED ON Apr-21-07 AT 09:31 PM (EDT)
 

Lt. Komilia D. Sterling (Miss Liberty), Valkyrie Sqdn. VVF-261 "Eight-Ball"
Standard Wedge Defense Force Mark IV Valkyrie flightsuit, VVF-261 colors, ca. 2280


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O_M
Member since Jun-19-05
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Apr-21-07, 11:29 PM (EDT)
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3. "RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA"
In response to message #1
 
   LAST EDITED ON Apr-21-07 AT 11:30 PM (EDT)
 
Emilia, having observed the exchange between the two, wasn't doing quite as well. "... My baby sister... has cleavage. My worldview is shattered."

Mylene smirked. "I see you missed my last Rolling Stone cover, then."

"WHAT?!"

Mylene laughed, waving her hands to try and calm her older sister. "Relax, relax, it was tasteful!"

Emilia groaned, putting her face in her hands. "We're dead. We're SO dead. Mom's gonna kill ALL of us."

I think this little exchange was the thing that brought it home that, despite it all, that sisterly bond hasn't changed even if they probably have.

That said, Ariel's story is something I'm distinctly interested in.

EDIT: And I apparently can't click the right reply link. Ah well.


-OM

"Crypto-lesbians? Sounds like someone threw a zombie movie into a blender with a porno."


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Dranger
Member since Mar-7-07
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Apr-22-07, 07:51 AM (EDT)
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5. "RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA"
In response to message #1
 
   That is a very nifty image of Komilia. :)


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Offsides
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Apr-22-07, 10:57 AM (EDT)
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6. "RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA"
In response to message #1
 
   Bravo on both the story and the artwork. I find it amusingly ironic that Phil posted the text, and you (Gryphon) posted the image :)

Offsides

[...] in order to be a realist you must believe in miracles.
-- David Ben Gurion
EPU RCW #π
#include <stdsig.h>


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Gryphonadmin
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Apr-22-07, 05:59 PM (EDT)
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7. "RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA"
In response to message #6
 
   >Bravo on both the story and the artwork. I find it amusingly ironic
>that Phil posted the text, and you (Gryphon) posted the image :)

No irony is intended; it's just that I'm the one who knows where on the server the images will end up.

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Admin
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/


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Offsides
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Apr-22-07, 10:12 PM (EDT)
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8. "RE: Reunion Illustration 1 of 8: KOMILIA"
In response to message #7
 
   >>Bravo on both the story and the artwork. I find it amusingly ironic
>>that Phil posted the text, and you (Gryphon) posted the image :)
>
>No irony is intended; it's just that I'm the one who knows where on
>the server the images will end up.
>
I figured as much, but unintentional irony is often the best kind :)

In any case, thanks for the good stuff!

Offsides

[...] in order to be a realist you must believe in miracles.
-- David Ben Gurion
EPU RCW #π
#include <stdsig.h>


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Verbena
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Apr-21-07, 10:53 PM (EDT)
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2. "RE: (EXILE) Reunion part 1 of 6 : Rendevous"
In response to message #0
 
   I realize this is just re-introductions and I'm quite certain I have no way of telling apart half the new people in this piece, but it still kicks ass and I can't wait to see the rest. =P

And I'm very grateful for the pic--envisioning what you're reading is always a good thing!

"They say one should not speak unkindly of the dead, so I say, 'nice try'." --Lezard


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BZArcher
Member since Nov-8-05
129 posts
Apr-22-07, 01:08 AM (EDT)
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4. "RE: (EXILE) Reunion part 1 of 6 : Rendevous"
In response to message #0
 
   Oh, my. This is gonna be fun!

Can't wait for more, and thanks for the art!

---------------------------
Hope Rides Alone


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