Ascension Chapter 2- The Colonel

Helm Medrik shivered. It wasn't particularly cold out; It was just a passing sensation, like a touch on the back of the neck. He wondered if somebody was talking about him.

He and twelve other Galthirian soldiers waited. Three of them leaned against the outer walls of the hanger, speaking in hushed voices; four, standing in a loose circle, passed eachother hits of cigarettes.

The two highest ranking officers of the squad, Brel Oslindt and Sant Wellmar, stood near eachother by the runway, both speaking of the task given to the squad in low tones. Medrik stood by himself, hands in his pockets. He studied the expanse of the Martics, thought about how tiny they were compared to the Blackcrowns back home.

"Heh. Lookin' forward to leave time, Medrik?"

Helm turned to see Delek Argland approaching him, buckling up his belt.

Delek Argland was stout and muscly, bristly with coarse hair on his cheeks and shaven head, where Helm Medrik was wiry, soft, and clean-shaven, with cropped mouse-brown hair and glasses taped together at the middle.

Delek looked like he was ready to pop out of his battle dress uniform at any moment, while Helm had to cut notches into his belts to make his uniform stay on. He needed a tailor, and badly.

"...Absolutely, Sir. Can't wait, Sir."

"Bet you can't. I mean to scratch the itch, if you know what I mean."

You mean the one you got on your last leave time? Helm kept the thought to himself.

He tasted bile on the back of his throat as he stared onto the airfield, which stood empty except for the hangar behind them. In it was one aeroplane; the wings, wheels, propeller, and doors missing and likely sold for scrap.

Much of the grass on the center dividers were tall and unruly, and Helm saw a tire sticking out halfway onto the runway a few hundred feet away. This place was all but abandoned, except for the skeleton crew operating the air control tower... And the squad of twelve.

The thrum of propellers drew their gazes.

A large, gunmetal grey aeroplane fell in low a few klicks out, and as it descended nearer, it's landing gear eased out.

"Have you ever had a Tellarian slut, Medrik?"

"No, sir."

"'Course you haven't. You wouldn't know what to do with a girl if she came to your cot in a wrapped box."

"No, sir."

There was silence except the approaching plane, which was growing louder all the time.

"You know, Tellarian girls have a special technique they do with-"

It was Brel Oslindt that spoke now. "Shut the fuck up, Corporal." Oslindt turned to the scattered group of men and bellowed. "Fall in, meat!"

The plane landed, bounced once, twice, then eventually eased to a stop. The blow back from the propellers kicked up a paper bag and it flew past the squad as their battle dress uniforms rippled.

Eventually stairs came down from the plane and a lone man stepped out slowly, clad in the green service uniform. An array of badges and ribbons adorned his breast and the insignia on his collar showed him to be a Colonel.

He was tall, broad shouldered and muscular, with a chiseled white face and a shock of curly blonde hair shorn at the back and temples. His eyes were a deep blue, the kind only oil paints can achieve.

He saw everything with a bored, thinly-veiled derision. In his left hand, he clutched a high-ball glass, with ice cubes and a lonely olive rapping lightly in a bit of clear alcohol. On his hip he wore a brown leather holster, loaded with a standard issue ten millimeter handgun.

When the colonel was within six paces of them the squad snapped to attention. Helm stared dead ahead.

"At ease. Who commands?"

"Warrant Officer Brel Oslindt, reporting, sir."

The colonel sauntered in front of the column, studying each man in the face. "You have everyone caught up to speed, yes?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Good. We're weapons clear on this operation, gentlemen... Hopefully we won't have need of it."

Delek, stupidly, raised his voice. "What we need weapons clear for if we're just doin' a routine 'terrogation?"

There was a stunned silence, as the colonel took a sip of his drink and walked over to where Delek was standing. Helm could smell blackleaf smoke, and under it a fine layer of sweet perfume. Helm thought of limes.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Lance Corporal Delek Argland."

"Lance Corporal Delek Argland, sir. Also, I don't care. You see this shit on my uniform?" His face was a mask, betraying zero emotion.

"Your badges, sir?"

"Yeah. My badges. Look how many there are! It seems plain to me you'd prefer a book with pictures in it, Corporal. Take a long good look."

There was a snicker somewhere down the file.

Calmly, the Colonel undid the strap on his holster and slid his gun out. He checked the magazine, and satisfied, chambered it. He pulled back the hammer and aimed it under Delek's chin.

"I'm Colonel Jon Meredus. I eat people like you for breakfast, and maybe guys like string bean here for a light snack, y'know what I'm sayin'?" He shot Helm a quick glance, but his eyes went back to nail Delek in place. Delek stood stiff as a column, his face reddening. He looked... afraid, for once.

"So let me go over some basic terms with you. You understand the Chain of Command, yes?"

Delek gulped. "Sir."

"I am the Colonel, this means you don't speak unless spoken to. You have three phrases. "Yes," "No," and "Sir". Use them wisely. You're here to do what you were ordered to do, and will continue to do so until I tell you to fuck off. Got it?"

Delek blinked, his brow forming a light sheen of sweat. "Yes... Sir."

The Colonel turned away, his eyes lidded with disgust. "Great. All personnel, let's roll."

He holstered his gun and walked around Helm. Helm's heart caught in his throat, but the Colonel strode away, heading for the four trucks parked down the airfield.

Shit, I forgot that I'm the driver.

They reached the trucks and piled in. Meredus took his seat next to Helm and Corporal Sant Wellmar took the backseat, as Helm turned the ignition and the vehicle thrummed to life. They all strapped on their seat belts, and as Meredus reached for his Helm saw something in the distance across the airfield. A black dot, barely discernible at this distance.

Helm adjusted his glasses and strained his eyes.

It looked to him like a woman in black. Standing out in the open, staring at them.

Helm felt his stomach turn to ropes as he hit the gas.

***

Sparrow looked on as Dreslim's car pulled into the courtyard. The car circled around the wide circular lawn, which at its center sat a statue of the winged goddess, Aelia. Outside the courtyard sprawled a blanket of birches that eventually met the foothills of the Northern Martics.

Except for the lot of land that belonged to the Manor, the mountainside was in the grip of the trees of antiquity. To the south sat Marta, partially hidden by an outcropping of lonely trees at the edge of the cliff.

The manor itself was a large two story mansion, with a salmon-colored exterior and white marble fixtures. Azaleas, red and purple and pink, grew thickly in the garden. Six stone columns held up the upper level, and behind them stood two thick red doors made of stained oak.

The car came to a stop, the engine dying down with a mechanical sigh. Angela and Dreslim got out... And someone else Sparrow didn't know.

"Where's the man from A-Sec?"

"You're looking at his daughter." Angela dusted herself off and looked at Sparrow. Her eyes were red and puffy. Sparrow glanced at the strange girl clad in the fur coat and black cap; She looked like a vagrant. Was her hair... silver?

"Her? Angela... Have you been crying? What the hell happened?"

"Look, it's kind of a crazy story-"
"Please. I'm all ears." Sparrow set his hands on his hip. "You can trust me, Angela. You know that."

"Sparrow, I don't want you involved." She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears again.

Dreslim, looking like a deer in headlights, scuttled back to his car and drove off.

"It's okay. I took care of it," the silver-haired girl said.

Sparrow's felt his mouth twist. "I'm sorry, and who are you?"

"I'm Lapis. Bad men wanted to take Angela away, so I stopped them."

Sparrow opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find any words.

"Three men tried to kidnap me near Missando's down on Redfish and Oak. I'm not sure what kind of things they were going to do. I don't even wanna think about it. The driver had a pistol, with a silencer. I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for Lapis." Angela looked at the girl known as Lapis, with... what? Awe? Adoration? Something Sparrow wasn't comfortable seeing.

"You're telling me this girl... Fought off three men? Unarmed?"

"Look at her knuckles! She practically-" Angela grabbed Lapis' hand, Lapis offering no resistance. Then Angela looked at the smooth and unmarred white of the hand, and furrowed her brow. "Um."

"What?"

"They were bloody before."

"Look, there's more important things to focus on right now. About these men. Do you remember what they looked like? What kind of wheels they were working with?"

Angela bit her lip, and her hands curled into small fists. Sparrow felt a pang of guilt. No, hold on. I didn't mean it like that. But she spoke before he did.

"The car was... black. An Onz Destrier, I think. They were wearing disguises, except for the driver."

"Okay. And what did he look like?"

"Ah... He was... Thin. He had a pompadour... An... Expensive suit."

"That sounds like a million guys this side of Anhelion. I need something else."

"That's it. I can't remember anything else. It all happened so fast, I didn't get to memorize anything. I'm sorry."

It was Lapis who spoke next. "He wore a gold ring with red rock in it on his right hand."

Recognition pinched a nerve in Sparrow, and his teeth set on edge. "Oh yeah. I know that guy. Grus Boldran. I managed to get him locked up two years ago for extortion and blackmail, though he'd been a little busier than that. I guess old habits die hard."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Right now? I don't know. I haven't thought much beyond breaking his fucking legs."

"No, please don't." She gripped the fabric of his shirt, her eyes pleading with his. "Don't get mixed up in this. Lapis kicked their asses. Isn't that enough?"

"Maybe she did knock them down a peg. Maybe that is enough, for now. But what happens when their buddies try and pick up where they left off? Angela, this isn't an isolated incident. You're Galthirian. The stereotype is that you have gold sewn into the lining of your clothes. So long as a Galthirian foreigner like your father sits on a seat of power, men will come out of the woodwork to try and steal a piece. You know this."

"We could go to the police..."

"They have the police in their pocket, Angela. The ones that aren't rotten lack the guts to do anything beyond standard procedure. We don't have anyone we can trust."

"You can trust me." They turned to look at Lapis. She smiled, an innocent and unassuming look on her face.

"Look, no offense, Lapis... that is your name, right? What's your last name?"

They both stared at Lapis a good long while. She blinked a few times, staring off somewhere above their heads. "...Lapis?"

"I rest my case. You're supposed to be our head of security? She tells me you staved off three men without even so much as a slingshot; I'm not buying it. I'm not going to go so far as to say you were in on it, but a couple things don't add up to me."

Lapis returned his gaze, and he could decipher nothing from her face. She was either very stupid, or afflicted in other ways.

He stared Lapis down. "Maybe your A-SEC dad taught you some stuff. Sure, I can concede that. But this isn't a sparring ring for kids. If you really are able to do what Angela says you did, I wanna see it. I wanna know that what happened there wasn't just an act."

"Sparrow, what are you doing?!"

"It's fine, Angela. Please give us some space." Reluctantly, Angela backed away from them; Lapis stood in the same spot, unmoving. Sparrow unbuttoned his vest and dropped it on the grass. He drew in a deep breath and released, letting the tension in his belly subside and the clarity of his mind shine.

His right foot shifted backwards, narrowing the amount of his torso facing towards Lapis. He drew up his elbows and hands, the better to block blows with. "Please, Lapis, would you be so kind as to demonstrate your technique?"

"This is a really bad idea, Sparrow."

"Angela, don't worry about it. Neither of us are actually gonna hurt eachother. Right Lapis?" He nodded at Lapis. "C'mon. I need to know."

Lapis shifted the weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. "I don't... want to fight you."

"Why not?"

"You haven't done anything wrong. You seem like a good man. Why must I fight you?"

Sparrow was so taken aback, it broke his stance. He couldn't find the words to speak at first. "We're not in an actual combat situation. You're just showing me how you fight."

"Oh. So we're just playing?" She smiled then, and locked into a stance of her own; Her arms moved over eachother, her hands feeling and teasing the air passing through them. Her feet were planted firmly apart as she closed her eyes and breathed deep. She has good form at least. What sort of style is that?
"Sure." He waited for a sign of attack, or something. If and when she struck with her right hand, he was going to get her by the arm and have her on her back. If he attacked with her left, he was going to deflect it and give her a good open-palmed blow in her stomach. She wants to get in the trenches, but first she's gotta get through boot camp.
As he mentally prepared for any given scenario, she lashed out with her right leg, quicker than he expected. He grabbed her by the calf and went to sweep her other leg out from under her but she caught herself by her hands and kicked out of his grip. She flipped and landed on one knee, rising up suddenly and ramming into him with her left shoulder.

He definitely didn't expect that. His arms beat into his chest and he stumbled back a pace; He rebuilt his footing, but by then she was up, assailing him with formidable jabs and open-handed strikes.

It was all Sparrow could do to block them. Their hands and arms twirled about, the sounds of skin impacting skin and fabric rustling filling Sparrow's ears like a plane engine.

Sparrow couldn't actually tell if she was holding back or not, and her expression didn't say either way.

They broke apart, and Sparrow found himself breathing a little heavier than usual. Lapis appeared to have expended no energy; She gestured for him to have at her, and he felt a flush of anger creep up his face. Who's proving their strength here?

He cleaned up his stance, and was about to go on the offensive when he heard a loud voice bellow from behind him.

"Enough!" The Mayor was on the porch. He could not descend the stairs, but Sparrow was sure if he could, he would have liked to crack his skull. "Sparrow, is this any way to treat a guest?"

"Nothing to worry about, Your Honor. Just giving our prospective Head of Security a quick exam."

"Bugger your exam." The Mayor peered at Lapis, who was concealed under her black cap. "She is exactly who I expected to show up."

"My lord." Lapis dropped to one knee and knelt, her right hand curled into a fist over her heart.

You don't see that much anymore.

The Mayor smiled... And tears started to form in his eyes. Sparrow's jaw worked soundlessly with confusion. "You don't need to kneel before me. It should be me who kneels before you."

Angela gently touched Lapis' shoulder. "Come along, Lapis. I think my father would much like for you to see the house."

Lapis rose. "If it please His Lordship."

"You don't have to call him that. I think." Angela smiled an unsure smile and led Lapis to the porch. As they passed the Mayor, the Mayor glanced sideways at Sparrow with a look that seemed to say what am I going to do with you?

"Sparrow."

"Yes, Your Honor?"

"Your magic's showing."

Sparrow looked down and saw that it was true; thin tendrils of icy light snaked up his forearms. Chilled air moved about his hands, and little flakes of ice eddied in the draft.
He clenched his fists and willed his secret down.

"Sorry, Your Honor."