Sometimes things are born knowing who they are and sometimes things never truly find themselves within their own existence. There are times though, where one just needs a tiny little nudge to push them over the edge, to fall into the Abyss where their true selves are waiting. ~ Apollyon, Year 2391 Sol

Coming into consciousness was abrupt as his body jerked from its life-saving stasis. The only thing his senses could register was pain; everything was pain.

It took a moment for Torvil to right himself as his body revolted against the notion of moving. He was far more disciplined though and forced his body to move regardless. The light of day came blindingly from the neck of the starship as he shielded his eyes in an attempt to focus. Everything around him was a mess. Panels had latent bursts of electricity that popped around him, displays and viewing ports were shattered and even a sturdy branch of a tree jutted through the hull of the starship’s corridor that led into the wilderness of northern Colorado.

Memories flooded Torvil’s mind; He had failed his mission. A foolish attempt at diverting energy from the ship’s shields to achieve supersonic speed so that he may break Earth’s atmosphere fast enough to warp out of Federation space and bring the young mage Morrigan Clarke to the safety of the Eskarii territory had cost him his mission. He remembered the panic in the young Terran’s voice, the pathetic defeated apology he gave her as he watched the missile close in on the ship as he failed to outrun the Federation fighters. Now he sat, thrown against the console of the ship, battered and defeated gazing into the woods where his part of the ship had landed.

“Naestra and Arahni forgive me for my failure.” His thought pushed outwardly towards the endless expanse of the universe, hoping the Eskarii goddesses may hear him. Not that Torvil followed the faith of his people, but the guilt of failing so poorly made him pray for forgiveness. There was also the looming threat of his sister, Mo’Emori. She had threatened to skin him and turn him into a ceremonial gown if he had failed to keep the young mage safe. “Perhaps it would be safer for me to let my soul release now.” He thought to himself with a hysterical chuckle. No, he was never one to give up or let conflict deter him. It was one of his traits that saw him through every mission until now. He would face his sister when the time came, as a man of honor and he would accept his berating and punishment with stoicism.

Stoicism… that made him wonder if the girl had survived. She herself may not have been stoic however, her tenacity and resilience was something he found respectable. Through everything they endured together, despite everything that could have gone wrong and with everything that did go wrong, she went through the motions with the faith of a true warrior. If there was a modicum of a chance she survived, he would have to find her. At least he knew his next course of action.

Torvil eyed his body for a moment, visually checking for any catastrophic wounds. Seeing no bones sticking out or large open wounds, he leaned himself off the console and gently placed his feet on the floor of the ship. His body screamed in response. Every inch of his body was stiff and sore but his left leg screamed the most from putting weight on it, nearly causing it to buckle underneath him. Taking a moment to think, if he had to guess, his leg was probably fractured. It seemed his body’s trauma response of stagnation seemed to only do so much for his injuries. That would not prevent him from moving forward though.

With forced determination Torvil leaned against the hull of the ship and braced himself as he looked around for any pieces of his equipment. He found his combat knives still strapped to his body which he counted as a small blessing. His data slate was found against the viewing port above the main console as well as on the floor underneath the pilot’s chair, broken in half and irreparable. Torvil questioned where his guns were when he recalled leaving the bags of weapons and supplies at the storage warehouse. That made him curse in his native tongue, “Du’wiesau arag m’aen…”

Nevertheless, he had to press on, shuffling carefully towards the open end of the remains, he could hear the hull groan under the pressure of his weight shifting inside.

It was not until reaching the edge of the connecting bridge that he saw that the cockpit was not on the ground. The damaged half of the ship was actually ten feet off the ground, wedged in-between a trio of pine trees. Looking around the precarious situation he was in, he spotted a branch that swung beneath the bridge and stuck out far enough to try and get a hold of. The only issue was a four foot drop to the branch. With utmost caution, he angled himself for the drop and stepped off the bridge.

Falling, Torvil stuck his hands out to wrap around the branch and catch himself. Pain roared in response in his arms, shoulders and back which caused his grip to lose the branch. Torvil impacted on the ground hard as the air was forced out of his lungs. He struggled not to cough as his lungs struggled to refill with air as he heard a sound more alarming. The soft groan of the starship caused him to look up to see the broken half shudder and shift. “Shit!” he exclaimed through a coughing fit as panic set in. His only option was to frantically roll to the side as the cockpit slide backwards out of its holding place and crash vertically near where he had just been. The danger was not over as the cockpit tilted towards his fleeing direction. With a desperate attempt to not be crushed, he sat up and threw himself with every ounce of strength he could muster as the cockpit collided with the ground mere inches from him.

As the cockpit settled, Torvil let out an exhausted sigh as he sprawled himself out on the ground. He closed his eyes and contemplated how he got himself into this situation. Like most Eskarii, Torvil was bound to a strong sense of familial compassion, so when his feisty, thorn-in-his-side sister begged for his help, who was he to say no. He shook his head with a small, amused smile; now she would be the one to kill him.

Deciding he had wasted enough time, Torvil struggled to stand up to gain his bearings. Last he remembered, they had been flying northwest towards the mountain range that spanned the west side of Colorado. Given how the cockpit landed, he assumed he did not get thrown off course by much if at all. Making a course opposite of the direction of the cockpit, he trudged on slowly eventually finding himself a fallen branch he could use as a sturdy walking stick to take the weight off his leg which allowed him to add some speed to his journey. His plan was to find the rest of the ship and determine what happened, from there he would do his best to find help.

Torvil took no pride in asking for help, but his injuries would only slow him down. If he could get ahold of Drusille or Mo’Emori, then perhaps he could start formulating a better plan.

After what felt like hours of walking, Torvil picked up the scent of burnt electronics and singed metal coming from somewhere ahead of him. After a few minutes he could see remnants of smoke reaching for the sky as well as the smell of singed wood. Following the smoke and smells of a crash, he finally came upon the missing half of the ship.

It was a mess. The engines had torn off from the body of the ship and the body rolled with such force it carved a trail into the ground all the while bulldozing smaller trees down until it came to a literal crashing halt as it appeared to have slammed into a mighty pine tree. To emphasize its path of destruction, the body of the ship had been split open vertically like a clam upon impact and held its place against the tree. Looking at the wreckage; Torvil would have been severely impressed if she had survived and that brought him worry. He counted himself lucky given his own situation but the remaining half of the ship was beyond recognition. Torvil took stock of his surroundings, knowing danger may still be present. There were additional trees pushed down or aside by track-treaded ground vehicles. He assumed those to have been from the tanks from the airport. There were also deep imprints in the earth from various sized aircraft landing gears followed by scores of footprints. The Federation military had definitely been there however, there seemed to be no movement nor waiting sentries. All was peacefully quiet around him. That did not do much to quell the growing worry in his chest.

Finding the area at least safe to explore, Torvil shambled through the obliterated area towards the wreckage. Studying the body of the ship, Torvil found an entrance cut into the ship by the Federation. “They were as determined as I suspected…” he thought to himself as he hobbled into the opening. The interior of the ship looked just as bad as the exterior. The walls of the circular layout were buckled, torn and dented. Panels from the floor were scattered, some even impaling the outer walls. The area he had sent Morrigan to was a circular room that had lavish amenities. Now it was a chaotic mess of broken glass, and thrown furniture that came off from their bolts on the floor. Torvil found a surviving bottle of water on the ground and frantically grabbed it. He was unaware how dehydrated he was until he saw the life giving liquid and drank its entirety with avarice.

Torvil discarded the bottle and began investigating the room. Morrigan had been in there, but there was no sign that the girl existed. No blood, no brown or blue hair, no signs of her bizarre magic. The pang of guilt came back to Torvil’s heart as he remembered the ensuring words he spoke to her. On top of guilt there was the shame of failing so many; his sister, his people, The girl’s parents, and Morrigan herself. As annoying as she had been, Torvil discovered that he was fond of her presence. She had a wanderlust about her that filled his heart with hope for the Terrans; that not all Terrans saw the Eskarii people as monsters to kill but as companions in the galaxy. Then there was her strange attachment to Mo’Emori. Torvil truly wondered if the young Terran had a place for his sister in her heart, and whether his sister felt for the young Terran as well. The thought made him blanch. If Mo’Emori cared for the young Clarke, his failure would be returned upon him ten-fold.

He shook his head of the thought as he continued to search. As far as he could tell, the girl must have been alive seeing as there was no body to be found. He found a usable part of a broken semicircular couch so he could sit and relaxing his leg while he took in his surroundings. He doubted the Federation would have taken her body if she had been killed in the crash. That meant they had her, he could find her and correct his mistakes.

It would take time though. Torvil did not have the resources to track her down and the Federation was a wide field to comb through. They dominated over half the planet and were spread out among many worlds throughout the galaxy. “This won’t be easy especially if they just happened to move her off world…”

His attention was broken by the sound of voices coming from outside. Shuffling as fast as he could and hid behind one of the broken sections of sofa. He was wary of getting into a fight without knowing the extent of his injuries. His leg did not function properly, his sides hurt like hell and his level of exhaustion was high, on top of only having his combat knives. He would prefer to avoid a confrontation if possible.

He could hear a male voice call out, “any idea what the hell happened here?”

“Well aside from the multi-billion credit starship smashed into a tree, my guess is the marines got what they were looking for seeing as they bugged out real fast!” came a reply.

“Is the boss on his way?” the first voice asked. Torvil was not happy at the prospect of more Terrans in the area than the two he could hear.

“Yeah, though the sergeant won’t be pleased, if there is truth behind what they told us, his girl was on this ship.” That was a piece of information that had piqued Torvil’s interest.

“Is it possible these are the elite officers of Patriarch Clarke’s squad?” he inquired within as he leaned out to look out through the cut out hole in the ship. His hand slipped on a large sheet of broken glass that shifted and broke under his weight. Torvil caught a glimpse of two D.S.T.U. officers turn their weapons to the ship as he slipped back behind the couch. “Pah'sk!” he muttered as he did his best to hide.

The two officers slowly entered the wrecked ship, the soles of their boots crunching scattered debris and the soft click of safeties being switched off on their rifles. It was hard for Torvil to stay hidden as he had to hold himself in a stance that was between crouching and laying flat to keep the sofa between him and the officers. It was not long until his injured leg screamed bloody murder and shook uncontrollably as he held it out against what seemed to be a broken end table that was wedged into the debris. He ground his teeth to keep from audibly wincing however, the shaking of his leg dislodged the piece of wreckage and caused him to slide with an audible yelp as pain wracked up is leg.

“Don’t move!” one of the officers commanded as Torvil heard boots rush his position. He looked up just enough to see twin barrels of automatic rifles pointing at him. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he gently raised his hands as far as he could without risking an itchy trigger finger.

ΩΩΩ

James Clarke was frustrated beyond belief. The Federation had shot a private starship out of the sky and left the D.S.T.U. to pick up the mess. His biggest worry was that his daughter may have been on the ship. He had no idea how she and the Eskarii intended on getting out of the city, but seeing as it was the only non-military aircraft in the sky that day, which was later reported stolen, the chances were high. It was only a week ago that the Federation had hunted her like an animal for reasons he barely understood. The only thing him, his wife and his team knew for certain was that his daughter was some how a mage despite not having the bloodline to support it, and that the Federation would go to any length to get their hands on her. That included committing murder, abuse of power and silencing people who tried to dig into the operation that plagued their city that day. All he wanted was his daughter back or even to know of her condition. Yet, there he was stomping through the forest on his way to take stock of the downed spacecraft.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Jennifer Simmons watched her sergeant carefully. The team knew he had been sleeping poorly, not that any one of them could blame him, and his psyche had been becoming questionable.

“It’ll be okay boss we'll find her. Besides, we trained her to be the toughest cookie of them all,” she said to try and ease the tangible frustration coming from Sergeant Clarke. The only response she got from him was a distasteful grunt as he stormed off towards Peters and Johnsons' location. From the sounds of their report, they not only found the starship but also a survivor, though they did not detail who the survivor was. She was hoping it was Morrigan and they were keeping it a surprise for James. Otherwise, whoever it was would be on the wrong end of his fury and that was not something any of them needed.

She was lost in her own thoughts until an abrupt shout pulled her mind back to reality. She also realized she had fallen behind and sprinted to catch up to her team. “Where the fuck is she?” came James’s voice again in a loud angry growl. What she saw as she broke through the trees was three D.S.T.U. with two assault rifles and a handgun pointer at the head of a man who was knelt between them.

However, this was no ordinary man. His dirty stark white hair and unique black and grey armor was a dead giveaway that it was Torvil, the Eskarii that had been tasked with aiding Morrigan in escaping the city. Rather than shouting her protest, she sprinted up to Clarke, grabbed his wrist and forced his arm up out of the way of Torvil and her squad mates. She followed through with a kick to the side of the knee that buckled painfully as she grabbed his bicep and twisted his arm back. The motion forced his hand open enough to grab the handgun from him and allow her to kick him down into the dirt away from Torvil while brandishing her own sidearm at the other two and turning his own gun against him. Her fluid assault was too fast for the rest of her team to react and by the time the realization hit that she was defending the Eskarii, she had a gun drawn on them as well. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded.

James shifted back slightly as he tried to rotate his shoulder into a position that eased the pain. “This asshole lost my daughter,” he grunted angrily.

“This ‘asshole’ is the only one who helped Little Clarke get as far as she got!” she snapped before turning to assess the Eskarii. She could see he was ragged with old injuries and new. She snapped her head up at her squad mates, “Johnson. Peters. If you both don’t stand the fuck down I will put you both down.” The two looked at each other before moving their fingers off their triggers and resting their rifles against their chest. They knew quiet well that if Jen did not threaten them with obscure, obscene grotesque harm, then the woman was truly serious.

To drive their point home Simmons stomped on her sergeant’s stomach. Out of the corner of her eye she could see both officers as well as Torvil wince at her actions, but she did not care. “That is not how we treat allies you asshole!” she yelled. James grunted in pain. He was surprised to find her entire weight behind the blow.

In his blind frustration, he turned his aggravation on the one familiar thing from that day. Regrettably, it happened to be Torvil. Never once had Jen been that angry with him before and whether it be her feelings towards the alien, or his own dishonorable actions, his actions crossed a line with her and her anger pulled him out of his stupor. Before he could even respond she was already helping the Eskarii up. He could do nothing but hang his head in shame with a sigh as he sat himself up, knowing full well he would owe Torvil an apology of sorts once everyone calmed down. James did not necessarily blame himself for his attitude the past few days, but he was beginning to see things from his daughter’s perspective. Before they parted ways, the two of them had gotten into an argument about justice and sense of honor after she had blatantly murdered, at the time, a defenseless marine. He knew her reasoning was good behind it but he was still disappointed in her; to take a life so easily, one that was not truly threatening her life at the time. Now, all he felt was shame; for not seeing what she meant before the words left his mouth, and seeing now how the stress and uncertainty of a situation could drive him to act so unjustly.

Peters stepped over and held out his hand which James accepted and got to his feet with his squad mate's assistance. “Are you alright boss?”

James let out a haggard sigh as he nodded, “yeah I’m fine now. She’s right, I’ve been acting like an asshole lately.” He eyed Simmons as she pulled out a medical kit and had Torvil begin removing his armor.

“Sure, but it’s not like we don’t understand James. All of us are on edge about this, it's expected for you to be the farthest on edge…” Peters trailed off as he began watching the spectacle James had been witnessing.

“That doesn’t make it excusable. I’m honestly glad she put me back in my place.”

Peters barely heard him as he turned back to his sergeant, “so, what’s the story here?” James shook his head in disbelief that he had not put two and two together as they watched Simmons tend to the alien’s wounds with a tenderness she was not known for. Granted no one told Peters or Johnson the full story for plausible deniability. With everything that happened, James, Jen and Rigo were working on borrowed time.

“You remember when we said a third party had helped us move Mori out of the city?” He waited for Peters to nodded. “Well, that party is the Eskarii sitting half naked being patched up by Jen.”

“You let our girl run around Denver with an Eskarii? You do realize it’s our job to arrest them right?” Peters seemed lost in the implications. James waved the conversation away; it was not something he wanted to get in depth about for the moment.

“All you two need to know is that Torvil is an ally to us and…” James rolled the stress from his shoulders before starting towards Jen and Torvil, “do me a favor, be more respectable than I’ve been.”

Torvil watched Jen intently as she inspected each wound he had. It was an interesting experience for him. He was comfortable stripping down for the Terran woman, as well as the tender care she was showing him, which he did not expect from a woman like her. “What’s have you got Jen?” came a voice behind her that caused the both of them to look. James knelt next to Torvil, his helmet hiding his face. Simmons had taken her helmet off, which Torvil found pleasant. If he was honest with himself, she had a pretty face and it was a relief to see her again.

“Well… several broken ribs, contusions… bruising,” she paused to narrow her eyes at Peters and Johnson, “and a possible fracture in the leg. I don’t wanna risk further injury trying get his pants off to inspect it but its not broken at least.”

James let out strained breath as he shook his head. He reached up and removed his helmet so he could talk to Torvil face to face. He looked Torvil in his bright amber eyes, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole earlier. I’ve been taking my frustration out on anything I could and it wasn’t fair to you. Nor anyone else for that matter.”

Torvil could see the shame in the man’s eyes. It was a shame he equally felt. Torvil sighed into a wince as Jen began binding his ribs. “It is fine. I understand… I am responsible for my failure and you have every right to be angry with me. It is my fault we failed.” Torvil watched the man bristle at his admittance, but to his surprise James kept his composure as he rubbed his gloved hand through his hair.

“Okay. How about we start with what happened?” James finally asked. Torvil could see the man’s nerves were frayed and had to choose his words carefully.

“We devised a plan to steal a starship that was stored in the airport… all went well until I had Morrigan open the hanger gate. We did not know the gate was alarmed.” Torvil smiled as he shook his head, “you would be proud of your young Swyn’wyr. I anticipated for gunships and stole a rocket launcher which she used to defend us.”

Simmons snorted and grinned, “no wonder you were so adamant about taking that! Proud of her for sure.” James on the other hand rifled his hair again torn between disappoint and pride as he watched Jen and Torvil grin.

“Yes, she did quite well while I prepared the ship. However, I may have planned for gunships… I did not expect Federation fighters… by the time we made it into the lower atmosphere we had three fighters draining our shields…” James let out a deep puff of air as he listened. “I uh… made a last effort to lose the fighters.” All four officers focused on Torvil waiting for him to explain.

“The shields were nearly depleted, so I diverted all power to the engines hoping to gain space, which worked but…” Torvil sullenly laughed briefly at the events that unfolded before hanging his head sullenly. “The missile was faster…” he finished as he gestured towards the wreckage.

James immediately stood which made everyone flinch and began rushing towards the wreckage. However, before anyone else could move to stop him, Torvil called out in a coughing fit which stopped him in his tracks, “there is no need!”

James turned to see Torvil clutching his sides, Jen doing her best to sit him upright. “What do you mean?” he asked with panic in his voice unsure if Torvil knew something or was trying to spare him. Torvil finished coughing and caught his breath before waving everyone over. Seeing what shouting did to the Eskarii, he strode back over Torvil along with Peters and Johnson.

Torvil took a deep, tired breath before explaining, “the good news is, she must be alive.” Everyone looked at him in confusion before pointing at the wreckage, “she was in there when it fell. There is no sign, no body, which means the Federation has her.”

 Johnson finally spoke up, “how the fuck is that good news alien?” That remark earned dark glares from Clarke and Simmons, Torvil on the other hand was unfazed by it.

“Because, that means she lives, and that she can be found Araf'wch,” He responded with a lopsided grin. Jen snickered at the insult. She did not know what it meant, but she vaguely recalled him calling her, James and Rigo that in the back alley in Denver. Johnson seemed put off by the comment and shifted on his feet as he looked to James and Peters. James thought about the situation at hand, wishing Rigo was not back at headquarters. He would have had a better understanding of how to formulate a plan regarding the information given. Except, the only person more suited than him was Torvil, who was beat to shit and exhausted.

“How would we go about finding her?” he finally asked him. Tracking and espionage was not his forte’. Torvil slumped and shrugged.

“Which ever way we do it, it will not be easy. Your life partner could use the Federation database to find out but that comes with incredible risks.” James immediately shook his head in aggravation.

“No, the bastards still have her on suspension.” Torvil nodded in understanding and sighed. He guessed the cat would come out of the bag eventually.

“Then we get a secure communication to Yuma and my sister.” Torvil stated. That caught Clarke by surprise.

“Yuma? As in Dr. Yuma? Mori’s therapist?” he asked in disbelief. Torvil nodded.

“Yes, he and my sister work for the CoU.” He stated. Everyone’s expressions were expected. Peters and Johnson gripped their weapons tighter, James curled his hands into fists and even Jennifer had a look of surprise on her face. Seeing as the Federation and CoU were at war, he did not blame them for their reactions.

James held a hand up after a moment, easing everyone’s tension. “I suggest you explain Torvil before this gets out of hand.” Torvil certainly agreed and shifted slightly to get comfortable.

“Your daughter’s presence on the Federation intranet along with her demands for equality for the Eskarii has caught the attention of the CoU. Yuma was designated to find Terrans who felt the same sentiments of the CoU’s idea of unity amongst species within the Federation. My sister, Mo’Emori, had decided to put her faith in the CoU and help there mission. Instead of combat, she was given a position with Yuma. When Morrigan was ordered to see a psychiatrist, my sister hacked the registry and put her into Yuma’s care. Their primary goal is recruitment…” he paused as everyone became tense again, “but, my sister had grown to care for the young swyn'wyr and when CoU found her release from Yuma’s care under scrutiny… the CoU intercepted orders to forcibly recruit her into the Federation military, the draft as you call it.” Despite everyone being ready to retaliate, James seemed to have relaxed as he knelt next to Torvil.

“And so you were sent to get her out before the draft concluded, do you work for the CoU?” he asked.

Torvil chuckled at the notion, “for? No. I would never employ myself to Terrans…” he eyed everyone realizing that the statement could spell trouble for himself, “no offense, of course. No, my allegiance is to our queen. It was my sister who contacted me and begged for my aid. At first I had no interest in helping a Terran, but she insisted that this one was different, one that whole heartedly saw the Eskarii as… equals.” Everyone watched the rare moment of emotions breaking through his rough, closed off persona. They could see the hints of hope, pride, fear, shame, and the hurt that trailed in his words. “As annoying as I initially found the young Clarke… she proved to be just as Mo'Emori said. A Terran who saw wonder and joy in the Eskarii, who wanted nothing more than to coexist and find the peace that we desire…” Jen watched intently at the hurt in Torvil’s face as he hung his head low. A single tear falling onto his chest. “I failed her… I failed my sister… and I failed you all.”

James felt his pain. As did Simmons who leaned forward and gently wrapped her arms around Torvil in comfort. Peters and Johnson were finally relaxed, understanding the alien better now and lost at what to do. James could not blame Torvil, even if there was truth to Torvil’s blame, he knew better now than to dare blame him. If his daughter’s actions had proved anything; it was the Federation’s fault and solely their fault. James truly never had anything against the Eskarii, but hearing the story Torvil told only solidified everything his daughter had been saying the past three years. After she was arrested, there was that seed of doubt in James’s mind when it came to the Federation’s motives and this essentially drove the nail home. It was time for action now, not blame.

James stood straight and reinforced his resolve. Looking down at the Eskarii, he held his hand out, “come on.” Both Torvil and Simmons looked up, his amber eyes bloodshot from restraining tears and even Simmons eyes were wet with tears threatening to break through. Torvil gave James a curious look until he accepted his hand. James hoisted him up as Simmons quickly supported him. “Let's get you somewhere safe so you can rest and heal. Then we can figure out where my little girl is and get a plan going.” He clapped the Eskarii gently on the shoulder before turning to his team. “Simmons, leave your helmet with me, take him to the truck and get him help. Peters and Johnson, document the coordinates and find the rest of the ship before heading back to HQ. I’ll call it in to Rigo then catch up with you,” he ordered before pulling out his phone.

Jen tossed her helmet on the ground and grabbed a firmer hold on Torvil. Before she could haul him off, Torvil turned to Peters and Johnson, “the cockpit is northwest of here. I can’t say how far given my injuries but it will be laying next to a trio of large pine trees.” He pointed in the exact direction of the wreckage. Peters and Johnson nodded at him before Johnson spoke up.

“Thanks for the tip, ummm, get well soon?”

Torvil nodded in respect before letting Jen guide him in the direction of the D.S.T.U. vehicles. As James watched everyone walk away, he called Santiago. The phone rang multiple times before it went to voicemail. Looking at the time he knew his boss should still be in the office, but perhaps he was simply busy with the commander. It was not unusual but he would have preferred to give Santiago the revelation they deduced. “No matter,” he told himself out loud before turning on his heels and picking the helmets off the ground.