“He’s… he’s doing alright,” Leon answered, taken aback by Vi’s uncharacteristic question. “I appreciate you asking.”
“That's great,” Vi nodded. “If his health makes you happy, then I feel happy.”
“Umm…” Leon mumbled, unsure how to react to such a statement. “I think... I’m not sure how that works—”
“I feel good when you’re happy, Leon.” Vi said.
Leon beamed. He was aware that it wasn’t the right line of thinking—to be happy only for others—but it was much better than being a slave caged within one’s own mind like she was months prior. Her sentiments were positive, and Leon sensed it.
“Thanks,” Leon reacted. “That means a lot, hearing it from you.”
It was hard to tell what Vi’s expression was, but what she did next was something Leon didn’t expect at all. She crouched down next to him and touched the back of his neck.
“What is this?” she asked, tracing a finger around the odd shape that was printed onto his skin. “I have never noticed it before.”
“Oh, that?” Leon said, a chuckle escaping his mouth. “Those are old burns from tobacco. I don’t know if you know what that is, but it’s a plant from the south that people burn to make them feel good. A bit like beer. My parents secretly traveled down to the border and traded with southerners to get it. I tried to get rid of this stupid scar, but contracted healing can only do so much.”
“No, I know it’s a burn,” Vi said. “How did you get it?”
“Right,” Leon said. He didn’t realize it, but the smile on his lips faded into a straight line. “My dad… he used to smoke around me when I was really little. I don’t remember it, but my sister told me he just kind of let the ashes fall onto me whenever I was near him. She'd apparently tell me not to go near him when he smoked but the smell was just too much to resist, I guess.”
“So you got hurt, too.” Vi said.
“I… I guess you could say that," Leon chuckled. "But I don’t remember any of it, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“I think it does matter,” Vi postulated. "Because things like that can change people.”
She was obviously referring to herself. At one point she had to have been an ordinary, happy little girl. But something horrible had to happen that changed both her body and mind to the point that she reduced herself into little more than a phantom.
“You think so?” Leon raised an eyebrow.
“I know so,” she said. “One day… I’d like to show you what it did to me. What they did to me. But I have a mission coming up. I need to focus on that.”
“Yeah,” Leon said. “You have an important duty. Do your best to keep Vigdis safe. And help Stefan and Valto as much as you can.”
“I know,” Vi said. Leon could only imagine a slight smile appearing on her lips. “Jay gave me orders and I’ll fulfill them,”
She traced his scar a second time with her finger, before rising to her feet and turning her back.
"Stay safe, Leon." she spoke softly, before stepping through the flaps of his tent.
"You too. Good luck." he said, his heart filled with a certain kind of hope.
16 hours earlier
“10 minutes, 86 leagues from the injection site.” A Titanian pilot spoke into the mouthpiece of his headset, jostling the joystick in front of him to keep his massive cargo transport Craft designed for quick space travel in the mid thermosphere of Terra hovering. It moved in large, sweeping spirals in an effort to lower its altitude. In the cargo hold, six fully armored young soldiers of various origins from throughout the Empire and its subjugated areas sat silently as they waited instructions from their vigilant temporary captain.
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“Copy,” the captain said into the onboard headset in helmet, transmitted to the pilot in the cockpit. He shut the mic off before he turned his attention to his five subordinates. “10 minutes. Now, do any of you need a reminder of the call signs we will be using on this mission? Raise your hand.”
His voice came out as a shout, since even though Titanian military craft were meant to be silent to anyone on the outside, it didn’t mean the ones inside were deaf to the machines and circuitry operating within. A tall female soldier lifted her hand, and despite her normally cheery attitude, there was no way she would’ve been smiling underneath her helmet at the moment.
“Okay,” Captain Meinrad Glynn acknowledged. “I am Alpha. Klaudia is Bravo. Lucia, you’re Charlie. Malin is Delta, Sindri is Echo and Joakim is Foxtrot. Everyone remember your call signs.”
As the other soldiers repeated in their minds what their names would be for at least the next day, Klaudia took a glance down at her gauntlet-clad clasped hands. As the second in-command and only member of the Frei Squad with comprehensive medical training, she had a lot on her mind. But it wasn’t about the mission to come itself.
Why did he have to accept this mission request? she thought bitterly. It was optional. The two of us spent so much damn time on that planet. Could he not give us a break? Does he want to prove himself to Brose that badly?
The boy in charge himself was not thinking about what or why he was doing what he did. He had already made up his mind. Instead his thoughts were directed at the green Frei Squad member who sat across from him. His hearing, advanced for a Terran, allowed him to determine that Joakim’s heartbeat was accelerated. It was hard to tell otherwise with his suit of armor completing covering his body. He was anxious. Why wouldn’t he be? Besides some rudimentary jetpack training, Joakim was the only one of the Frei Squad to have never been airdropped from a Craft before, and he was the only one who didn’t have one clipped onto the armor on his back. Instead he carried essential first aid supplies that might not have been inside the facility—simply known as Depot 011.
Meinrad looked at Joakim and smiled even though the boy couldn’t see his face.
“You’re going to be fine!” Meinrad shouted, holding a thumbs up in his direction. In response, Joakim simply gave a humble nod.
He’s not as expressive as Stefan, he noted. But eight months in a hellhole like Xanadu Penitentiary will do that to anyone.
He mentally repeated the directives given to him by Brose, centering his thoughts back on the mission.
We are to covertly secure the depot. Do not attempt to power it up—otherwise we give the enemy an opportunity to make us fail. Stay on the site until the ground force arrives, after which we will be taken to a designated extraction spot to return home. Our mission is to delay the arrival of the terrorist forces, not to stop them.
“2 minutes. 21 leagues from injection site.” the pilot relayed through his mic.
“2 minutes,” Meinrad repeated to his squad, before standing up. “This is the time to go over any last-minute checks.”
As most squad members locked their jetpacks onto their armor, calibrating to ensure their thrusters functioned as intended, Meinrad noticed Joakim looking ahead at him.
“Captain, I’m ready for your directives.” Joakim proclaimed; his eyes set with determination underneath his helmet.
I guess he is like his brother in some ways.
“Come towards me and turn around.” Meinrad said. Joakim stepped towards Meinrad and spun around. He shifted his utility belt carrying first aid materials to make room for Meinrad to attach a harness to him which he then secured to himself. He pulled a cord to tighten it, firmly hugging the slightly younger boy’s back to his abdomen.
“10 leagues above injection site,” the pilot gave his final relay. “Unlatching ramp right now.”
“Ramp unlatching!” Meinrad shouted so that his subordinates could hear him. The ground below their feet seemed to fall as it declined, converting into a ramp to give them access to the skies roughly above Depot 011.
Joakim felt his body being squeezed to the maximum as the air pressure between the inside of the craft and the outside rapidly equalised. Seconds later the ground was no longer under his feet. Far, far below him he saw the sandy brown lands making up the Barrens, with expanses of emerald plains and forests hugging at its northern, eastern, and western boundaries, the pale peaks of the Marius Mountains forming the southern border. Picking his head up slightly, being careful to keep from hitting Meinrad’s chest, he bore witness to storms of green, purple, and blue airglow illuminating the sprawling atmosphere. The hissing of the wind beating at his body and the roaring of the jetpacks worn by everyone around him were all he could hear, but he could care less. The sight before him felt ancient like it had a life of its own. He suddenly understood just how significant his assignment and indeed how substantial his time with the Frei Squad was, like a switch was flipped inside his head.
The Titanians were not simply seeking to conquer land but were seeking to conquer history. It only reaffirmed Lucia’s lecture from months earlier. He still was not sure where to place himself in the conflict between Angels and Terrans, but if being a part of the Frei Squad was the only way he could observe such a spectacle of nature, then so be it. This was his second time returning to Terra but only the first time he’d been able to see from up above what he saw from the ground all his childhood, having been asleep on the voyage to Shargara. If it meant being sent on one more mission or a hundred, it would be worth it. For he would never be able to experience it dwelling among the Terrans.