Shiny Things

Aiden Price smiled eerily at the group from Chorus, the expression plastered on his face in the same manner that had so often caused David Washington to shudder involuntarily when he had been with Freelancer.

Come to think of it, Price had smiled like that on the day of the mission that had nearly torn Washington apart…

The Strassian couldn’t help but shudder again, the motion not lost on Lavernius Tucker.  The dark-skinned man frowned considerably when he noticed that the former Freelancer was out of sorts.  But, just as Tucker was about to reach out and touch Washington’s shoulder to gain his attention and most likely ask if he was all right, Price spoke up once more.

“I’m here to welcome you to Trocadero.” Price stated calmly and with a slight bow, “Agents Carolina, Washington, and Tex,” he greeted not a moment later, “It has been awhile.”

“Not nearly long enough.” Tex growled under her breath, and the blond-haired Strassian couldn’t help but agree with the Veroni’s sentiment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Washington noticed the other mech pilots and their partners for the current mission who hadn’t been addressed just then all glance at one another questioningly.

It wasn’t abnormal for Simmons to be full of anxiety, but for the others to be concerned?  Well, that showcased just how surreal the whole damn situation had become.

Even though the Veroni wasn’t there, Washington swore that he could almost hear Church mutter “More Freelancer bullshit!” under everyone’s curious gazes.

“Hold up.” Tucker turned to Washington in particular, getting the Strassian to focus on the here-and-now, “You know him?”

Washington wouldn’t meet Tucker’s eyes then, causing the dark-skinned half-human’s frown to deepen.  He didn’t want to address his past at the moment.  He didn’t know how to explain that to make the others understand it though.

Luckily, the pilot for Teal had asked his question along the same time that Sarge spoke up, “How in Sam Hill do you know our compatriots here, son?”

“Oh, we used to work together.  It’s not really a secret.” Price answered the older Arenian’s question quite succinctly.

Carolina, no doubt about as eager to stroll down memory lane as Washington was just then, stepped forward.  Her entire body language had turned completely stiff.

“What exactly are you doing here, Counselor?” She asked with a completely professional and detached air, a true soldier’s etiquette about her demeanor that was almost highlighted by her glowing Veroni facial markings.

“Counselor?” Doc noted, though everyone around the purple-wearing Elvari ignored his inquiry to see how things played out between Carolina and Price.

“Peace, Agent Carolina.” Price stated instead of addressing Doc’s question, “We were all used by the Project, were we not?”  His steady gaze rested entirely on the three former Freelancers in their midst, “Some of us more than others, perhaps.” He finally noted.

Before any of them could respond to that line of reasoning, Price carried on, “I am merely trying to create a new, more ethical name for myself at this research colony.” He explained, “Is that so wrong?”

The three former Freelancers glanced at one another then, both Washington and Tex shrugging their shoulders at the same time to Carolina’s unasked question.

“I suppose not,” Carolina finally stated, though from her frown it was apparent that she was going to most likely be contacting Kimball and Church over this new development the second that she had the chance to do so, “And there is an issue with Charon on this planet, correct?”

Price nodded, “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where we’ve been having the…” he paused, Washington noting that Price seemed to be deliberately searching for the right words to describe the situation, “Added difficulties.”

As their group started walking, the Counselor glanced around at the Chorus crew with barely concealed amusement in his brown eyes, “I must say, your new mech group is certainly a colorful one.”

Tex snorted, but there was an odd note of fondness in her voice when she spoke, “You don’t know the half of it.”

*****

Charles Palomo found Katie Jensen in the Chorus training hall, an assortment of mechanical pieces and tools lying all around her on the floor.

“Hey,” Palomo greeted as casually as he could before sitting on the ground next to the brunette, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, hi!” Katie Jensen wiped some grease absentmindedly on her forehead with a motion of her hand, “I’m just doing some repairs that Captain Simmons left for me while he was away on this new mission.”

Palomo nodded his dark-haired head in understanding, as that often seemed to be the routine whenever the captains left, “You two are pretty close.” He noted, trying to make for what Captain Tucker referred to as “small talk.”

(“Trust me, dude, chicks dig it!  Even an idiot like you can’t screw it up!” Tucker had told him with a lot of authority before he had left with the others for Trocadero, although Palomo also vaguely recalled Church saying something along the lines of “As if you would fucking know.”  …The older soldiers sure were funny!)

Jensen, busy with delicately applying a screwdriver to a metal plating just then, simply nodded her head at Palomo’s statement regarding Simmons.

“Is that because of the mentor thing?” Palomo inquired, genuinely curious now.

The half-Veroni couldn’t help it, really!  He wanted to know as much about the Strassian girl as he could, so he figured asking about Strassian culture couldn’t hurt.

The girl nodded yet again, “I suppose, if they weren’t Strassian, one could equate mentoring to an adoptive family situation.” She elaborated for his sake.

Palomo frowned at the comparison, “So, that would make Captain Simmons your older brother or something?”

Jensen nodded once more before putting down her screwdriver, “Yes, and he’s more of one than my real brothers.  That’s for sure.”

She very rarely ever talked about her actual family, though Palomo had picked up enough to know that it was a sore subject for her.  He wasn’t entirely quite sure why, though he knew it had something to do with the “growing up” phase in Strassian culture.

When it was apparent that Jensen wasn’t going to say more, Palomo cleared his throat to gain her attention again, “Can I help?” he tentatively asked her.

The tan-skinned girl with blue-tinged freckles blinked for a few moments before processing his words, a slight smile softening her features a few moments later, “Sure!”

For the next several hours, the two were lost in their own little world of tech and gadget repair.  As enraptured in their activity as they were, they barely even heard the two familiar voices calling out their names.

“Palomo!  Jensen!” Volleyball shouted once more from across the training hall, waving at them.

The blonde and Kaikaina Grif were with a new human recruit to Chorus, apparently showing him the ropes.

As Jensen and Palomo approached the newcomers, Kaikaina got started on the introductions in her own rather exuberant way, “This is Zachary Miller.  He’s one of the new gray guys!”

Miller smiled and nodded his black head of hair towards both Jensen and Palomo, “It’s a real pleasure to be here.”

*****

The spot that Price showed them had been recently vacated, but Carolina could see the telltale signs of Charon’s lingering presence on Trocadero all the same.

It was pretty apparent that the pro-human group had only left fairly recently from the foot and vehicle tracks still fresh on the ground, as well as the discarded ammo cartridges and damaged equipment that Charon apparently viewed as too useless to take back with them.

“They often leave on supply runs before coming back for sustained raids.” Price explained to Carolina’s unasked question.

The redheaded half-Veroni nodded, noticing that Tex, Sarge, and Lopez were already starting to survey the scene.  A visibly troubled Washington, with a worried Tucker at his side, was glancing towards the direction that the tracks were heading towards.  The others were looking around as well with various levels of interest though some, such as Grif much to Simmons’ apparent chagrin, were merely trying to pass themselves off as appearing busy.

“What are they attacking this particular research colony for?” Sheila inquired mere moments later, Lopez having appeared at her side and nodding his head slightly as if to imply that the question was a good one.

Which it was, if Carolina was being honest.  She had just been about to ask something rather similar herself, but the Veroni had beaten her to it.

“This colony is home to various ancient Elvari ruins.” Price informed the group matter-of-factly, “That was the main reason as to why it was even established in the first place.

That was also no doubt why a half-Elvari such as himself was here, Carolina noted to herself.  The redheaded former Freelancer narrowed her green eyes at the Counselor’s words.

“To study them, you mean?” Simmons queried then, the Strassian drawn over to the conversation like a moth to a flame by his naturally inquisitive nature.

Price nodded, “Apparently, something in these ruins is supposed to augment an Elvari’s natural telepathic capabilities.”

This drew the attention of both Donut and Doc, the two resident Elvari in the Chorus group’s midst.  Both men even went “Oh!” at the same time in the exact same excited high pitch.  Carolina could feel her recurring headache coming back with a vengeance.

“Which, naturally, a pro-human group like Charon wouldn’t be too keen on.” Washington surmised, staring at Price with a guarded look.

“So they attack the colony in the hopes of stealin’ or destroyin’ the research on the ruins.” Sarge finished for the blond, whistling almost appreciatively a second later, “That’s downright diabolical!”

Carolina frowned, noting that now there was even more that she would need to put into her report back to Kimball, “It would certainly fit their usual M.O.” She concurred.  After a moment of inner debate in the silence that followed, Carolina nodded her head slightly before speaking, “We can’t leave the colony defenseless after accepting their request for help, so it looks like we’ll be staying here for a while.”

There was an assortment of cheers and groans from the group at the order, and she could swear that she heard Donut whispering excitedly about “sleepovers” to Caboose and Doc.

“Thank you, Agent Carolina.” Price inclined his head slightly, motioning towards the structures of the nearby colony, “I’ll be more than pleased to show you to your temporary lodgings.”

The half-Veroni gave a curt nod of her own in response, already running over in her mind just what she would be telling Kimball about the various ways this mission was currently progressing.

*****

“How did I get stuck with you as my roommate again?” Richard “Dick” Simmons couldn’t help but ask once more with an exasperated note in his whiny voice.

Dexter Grif shrugged indifferently, already lying down on his bed with his arms behind his head, “Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, Simmons.” Orange’s pilot informed him, “In fact, I think you should make the most of it and consider this a vacation.”

“A vacation.” Simmons snorted in disbelief, resisting the urge to nag Grif on proper mission protocols.

Though, inwardly, the redheaded Strassian supposed this temporary arrangement could have been worse.  He could have been stuck with Donut.  Or Caboose.  Or Tucker, whose “sleeping naked” exploits were legendary by now.  Simmons already felt a tad bit sorry for his mentor Washington on that front, given that he had experienced that particular habit of Tucker’s firsthand already.

Still, Simmons couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the chubby human’s rather flippant behavior, “You know we’re on a mission here, Grif.” He finally chastised his temporary roommate, “You shouldn’t goof off too much.”

“I know, I know.” Grif in turn rolled his eyes at Simmons and promptly got up from the bed he’d already made a mess of, “I’m going to go see what kind of food they have here.” He eyed Simmons almost hopefully, “Wanna come with?”

“Maybe later.” Simmons stared down at the tool kit from Maroon that he had started to go through once more, “I want to organize some things first.”

Grif scoffed, though his dark brown eyes seemed lit with amusement as he headed towards the door with a lazy wave over his shoulder in the redhead’s general direction, “Nerd.”

Simmons ignored the human to focus on arranging his tools in order of size once more, barely noticing when the door shut and he was left alone in the space.

“Simmons.”

A sudden chill went down Simmons’ spine at his father’s voice filling the room, the tools dropping to the floor with a loud clang as he spun around sharply to look for the source.

…Only to be met with a still very much empty room, the fading light from the Trocadero sun casting shadows through the window.

The Strassian blinked and shook his head, wondering for the first time if maybe Grif wasn’t right about him needing to take it easy from time to time.  Then he realized he had just thought that Grif was right, the realization of which made him want to run head first into a shame spiral.  Luckily the room lacked mirrors to punch.

Still, the whole thing was more than just a little bit unnerving.

Simmons gulped nervously before reaching down with shaking fingers to pick up the items that he had dropped, trying his hardest to ignore the growing sense of unease and outright dread that the reminder of his father had left him with in the process.