SG: WCD #46: Meditations On A Void (Part One of Three)

[Frobozz]

This is the mission log of squad leader John M Clark, currently in command 
of the Aurora powered armor squadron furthest from Canada that we've ever 
been (and we've been to New England, for cripe's sake). Even Xenora wasn't 
this far removed from the big blue marble we all call home; and quite 
frankly, this trip has given me a new perspective on what Doyle wants to 
accomplish by taking humanity into space. It gives you a totally new 
perspective on your life to realize that everything that seemed so 
important and immediate to you is really just a tiny speck of dust in the 
midst of a great big room filled with specs of dust. And staring out the 
porthole into the naked face of God every day, it changes things. On Earth 
when you stare up at the stars, it's like they're a great big blanket that 
covers the Earth, wrapping it up and keeping it warm just like a babe in 
swaddling clothes. Even if intellectually you know the world's just a tiny 
part of the cosmos, the perspective still puts you at the centre of 
everything. In space though, it's totally different. There you stare out 
into the void and suddenly come to the profound realization that you're at 
the centre of nothing except for your home, in the Buddhist sense. That's 
when you find that you have three choices: you can freak out that you're 
no longer even close to being the most important thing in the universe; 
you can ignore space and its many lonely wonders; or you can accept how 
small you are and make peace with the fact that even if you're no bigger 
than a speck, you're still part of this wonder that we call space. 
Frankly, I'm not sure whether I've chosen option number one or option 
number three, but there's no way in Hell(tm) that I'm ever going to pick 
door number two.

I'm updating my mission log after ignoring it for so long because I'm 
trying to work out a few things that're whanging around inside my head. 
I've come to realize that space is terrible for our mission: up here, you 
come to so many profound realizations (or at least think you do) that you 
start to drift out of the mindset you need to get the job done. I find 
myself sometimes wondering why our enemies don't stare out into the 
blackness of space and lay down their arms; and while I think that they're 
insane (or more likely, I'm being too human-centric) not to appreciate the 
wonders that surround them, I have to remind myself that me thinking this 
isn't going to change the fact that we're facing down well-armed alien 
terrorists and I have to put the still beauty of the void behind me once 
we come face-to-face.

We're about 2 days from planetfall; and things are likely going to get as 
hairy as Wolfman Jack the moment we're spotted inbound. But we've run 
through as many drills as we can fit in... and I think my troops are ready 
to do their part.

I'm pretty sure that Spectrum is going to mesh just fine with the rest of 
us; Hell(tm), he could teach my troops a thing or two about strategy and 
tactics. British Airwave seems like a stand up fellow as well. Though I've 
been told he's going to be running C&C for this mission, so he won't be 
alongside us. But frankly I think having a cultured British voice on the 
other end of the commo-net is going to have a calming effect on the 
troops, and hey, that's just a bonus, right? The Ninja seems like he's 
going to acquit himself fine, though he's a bit erratic when it comes to 
being a team player with the group. I'm a touch worried about a romantic 
attachment that he's formed within the ranks; but we'll see if he lets 
that affect his performance or not. I'm hoping for 'not', as there's no 
room for distractions outside the squad.

The two I worry most about are the spider man and the cartoon. I'm 
honestly not sure that Trap-Door Spider man has the self-control and 
discipline we need in this battle, but Spectrum vouches for him, so we'll 
give this a try. I'd be lying if I said he didn't scare the crap out of 
me, but I've done some soul-searching and I'm pretty sure that this fear 
isn't poisoning my professional judgements of the guy.

And then there's Foxy. Foxy is a liability in every sense of the word. 
She's undisciplined, random and has an adverse effect on the troops around 
her. I've tried to broach this matter with Spectrum a few times, but in 
the end I'm going to have to be happy with his answer of 'I'll take care 
of things'. I suppose that's going to have to be enough for me. Percy 
Sledge had the right of things.

So here we are, about to wade into battle with a world full of snakes 
who've been bombing parts of Earth for no reason that we can fathom. We've 
trained our mixed bag of troops as rigorously as we could in the time 
we've had, but Aurora and the Defenders have yet to really gel as a 
unified fighting force. I've seen that gelling come in the midst of battle 
before and I hope and pray that it happens in this one. They say that 
sometimes you need less than you think you do. I really hope that the 
proverbial 'they' are right.

PS - If I don't make it back, please release personal document 
karen_my_love.txt to Karen Moire of Mythos. In addition, please reference 
my last will and testament which is on file with Aurora.

***

WEST COAST DEFENDERS #46: Meditations On A Void

Costarring Aurora and the West Coast Defenders

By Chris Angelini and Lawrence Brown (the A to B of Authorial Fusions)

Captain Tonk paced slowly and deliberately as she regarded the half-dozen 
idiots standing at attention on the opposite side of the table. "Right. 
Who wants to start first?"

Lawrence Brown, aka Spectrum, stepped forward, his right eyelid already 
swollen with the obvious results of a solid black eye. Beside him, Foxy 
stared at the ground, praying that a random portable hole would manifest 
itself under her and yank her through the floor to some other place, any 
place. "Captain, technically I threw the first punch. My behavior was 
unacceptable and I take responsibility for the incident."

"You can scupper that bilge right now Mister. I will decide whose behavior 
was what, and make my own decisions as to who is responsible. Are you that 
quick to be thrown under the bus?" Before he could reply, she snapped off 
a swig from a Bloody Mary, and jabbed a finger at one of the ship's cooks, 
a younger man, who face was as ashen as the bottom of a crematorium. 
"What's' your story, cookie?"

"Can I get to speak with my solicitor before I continue?" The man looked 
nervously about, seeing only the stony expressions of Clark, Tonk, and 
Randall.

"Your...lawyer...?" Tonk measured the words, as if she was tasked with 
dissecting a week old roadkill corpse. She vaulted the table, landing 
directly in front of the cook without spilling a drop of her beverage. The 
young man stepped back an inch as she paused, then she leaned back against 
the table edge. "Let me explain to you what I am doing, and I will use 
small words, so you can understand me clearly." She gestured to the pair 
behind her. "This is not a formal proceeding. If it was, you would have a 
lawyer, you could meet with him, and then after he had explained to you 
what was happening, he would offer you a choice from a lovely assortment 
of blindfolds before you would be then led to a firing squad!" She paused 
and regarded the four crewmembers, all looking very much worse than 
Spectrum by comparison, and Foxy, who seemed to be entirely undamaged, 
albeit much more subdued than usually appeared.

"This is not a court-martial. I loathe them, for reasons you can more than 
likely figure out on your own. This is a simple meeting to find out what 
happened. I have carte blanche to choose what happens next. If any of you 
don't like that, I will be happy to drop you off and pick you up on our 
way back from the Nintan planet, assuming that we do return."

"It's that thrice-dammed cartoon fox!" Another man, this one working the 
supply management, shook a fist at at the animated vixen as he spoke. "I 
don't want that freak mucking about in our heads! Remember what happened 
the last time we encountered cartoons!"

Another crewmember muttered something under his breath, his arm in a 
sling.

Foxy wilted, and Spectrum balled a fist. "You want me to start on the 
other 214 bones?"

"That's enough!" Tonk growled.

Foxy raised a hand, "Can I explain...."

"Wait." Tonk cut her off with a curt wave. "What I want to know is what 
would possess my crew to try and lure someone out of her compartment, 
physically jump her, and then try to space her, without contacting me, 
without talking to someone in authority, without getting totally blind 
drunk beforehand so that an excuse would be available."

"Spaced?" Randall wiggled his goatee in consternation. "Are you 
saying...?"

"Yeah. Ejected like so much space trash." Spectrum said.

Tonk didn't have to turn around and look at British Airwave to know that 
the icy stare he had for the crewmembers was dropping so rapidly that it 
would soon freeze Everclear. "That's your story, Spectrum. I want to hear 
their side now."

"Cap'n, please," a large man rumbled. "We had tah do something before dey 
chaos destroyed us. Ah mean, damn, even Clark's people said stuff be goin' 
down when we fought off th' boardin' parties. We thought dat if we either 
could get her off the ship or lock her up, it would keep her from 
sabotaging dey mission."

Cookie chimed in, "So we thought, maybe we could scare her and get her to 
leave us alone, or just stop. Or..."

An older, grizzled man, with an old scar running along the edge of his 
chin and teeth that recently had gone missing, continued. "Tho, I went to 
her cabin and told her there wath an important meeting on C deck and I 
wath to escort her there."

"And when she came down the access way, I whacked her on the head with my 
skillet, and bada-bing she was out like a light, chirping birds an stars and
  all."

Spectrum interrupted. "I was on my way back to our cabin, when I barely 
caught sight of Foxy's tail as she went down a far hallway. I followed 
her, but I lost sight of them for a bit. I heard a loud ka-thwang like a 
metal pan being hit, and when I finally caught up with them, they were 
carrying her to an escape pod. Oop-stoop over there jumped me and I broke 
his hold, and his arm. The big guy clouted me," he pointed to his shiner, 
"and that's when I really lost it."

"We were not going to space her. We were going to lock her up in an escape 
pod so that she'd be safe, and everyone would be safe from her. "

"An if somethin' bad went down while she wasn't awake, dah emergency pod 
ejection would get her clear and safe..."

"Excuse me but who the Hell(tm) gave you the go-ahead to pull this 
shanghai?" Tonk stared at the men. "I've heard enough. Consider yourself 
all on restriction, and you will forfeit your pay for the next three 
months. You are confined to quarters, and will not leave those quarters 
for any reason other than to fulfill your duty schedule or to man your 
battle-stations. I would have Clark post a watch, but we are already 
stretched too thin with real problems, instead of this utter nonsense. Let 
me just say that this is the last time I better hear of any kind of ruckus 
involving Foxy, Spectrum, or any other guest aboard my ship. Because if I 
hear about something like this again, I might be inclined to leave you to 
Spectrum's tender mercies. He may not be super-powered any more, but he 
appears to be quite capable and sufficiently motivated to make you all 
give up eating solid foods. British Airwave will escort you to your 
quarters and then let us know when every good sailor boy has gone to bed."

"But..." Randall began.

"You are dismissed, sir! Report back once these four are in their 
quarters."

As soon as everyone, other than Tonk, Spectrum, Foxy, and Clark had left, 
Tonk wearily sat back in her chair, and popped open a fresh can of 
red-bull and vodka. "Take a seat people. I think we need to have a talk, 
young lady. Anyone else want a drink?"

"That's--all you are going to do?" Spectrum stammered.

"Yup."

"They assaulted her, and fought me, and you aren't going court-martial 
them?"

"Nope."

"May I ask why?"

"Nope." She downed the first can, and fished out a second.

"This is bullshit." Spectrum grumbled. "OW!" An empty red bull can caromed 
off his head.

"No, this is us doing what we can with a very dangerous situation, light 
years away from any legal jurisdiction, and as captain I can do whatever I 
damn well please, because if we don't make it back, all this is gonna be 
moot. You know, I know, and Foxy knows, that physical attacks don't do any 
real damage to her. I could hit her with a Chevy Impala and she would be 
none the worse for the experience."

"It'd still hurt some." Foxy whispered.

"Yes, but it won't kill you. Unfortunately your newfound psi power comes 
with no such guarantee. I have verified reports of people passionately 
kissing strangers; of people doing the conga line and generally being 
silly; of trained soldiers breaking ranks to huddle protectively around 
you. That kind of distraction during a firefight -will- get people killed, 
and I don't think you're prepared to deal with that reality. Foxy, you are 
confined to quarters for the remainder of this voyage, or until Doc Sloan 
tells me you can be trusted to rein in your powers. I have not made up my 
mind about what will happen when we reach the Nintan planet, but I'm 
inclined to defer to Mister Clark and leave the decision up to him.

"Spectrum, I told you that I hold you responsible for your team's actions. 
I don't know if this is you in denial about what's going on, or you just 
trying to ignore the problem and just hope it sorts itself out. I am very 
concerned that you have no clue about how to deal with this, so if you are 
not going to keep your people in line, I will take care of the problem."

"It's not his fault!" Foxy shouted through tears as she rose to leave.

"SIDDDOWN!" Tonk's voice cracked like a whip, pulling Foxy up short and 
then meekly back to her seat. "I don't recall giving you permission to 
leave. Doc Sloan and someone else from the crew will begin working with 
you regarding this (cough) gift, and you are expected to give him your 
FULL cooperation. Or I *will* space both of you, to protect my crew, this 
mission, and ultimately the whole damn earth."

Foxy looked at Spectrum with a pleading look.

"Aye-aye, Captain." Spectrum said as he bowed his head.

"Report to your cabin." Tonk dismissed them irritably.

John Clark began to stand, but was waved back to his seat by Tonk, who 
pulled out a couple beers, and cracked one, passing the other to Clark.

"I'm on duty, ma'am."

"Take it. Trust me, you'll need it and maybe a few've its closest friends 
in you to answer my next question."

"Yes'm," replied Clark, cracking open his brew and taking an experimental 
sip. When Tonk said that you'd need a drink, you knew that you -really- 
needed it.

"I didn't sign up for this crap," sighed Tonk, as she took a healthy pull 
from the can. "So. Can you use them in the fight?"

"Wrong question, ma'am. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of how."

"G'wan?"

Clark gestured with the beer, for which he was suddenly profoundly 
grateful. Tonk had been right about his needing it, as she often was in 
alcohol-related matters.

"There's no way to pull either of them out of the unit now. Pull her and 
he'll go with -- you saw how protective he is of the Fox. Pull them both 
and the rest of his team suddenly develops a major mad-on with the troops; 
and that's when it turns into an 'us vs. them' mentality. Now if you take 
that onto the battlefield, you know what you wind up with?"

"Yeah. You wind up with a very dead 'us' and an equally dead 'them'."

"Exactly. Of course, it gets worse."

"Oh lovely. Crack another if you need it."

"Will do, captain. See, if we don't pull her then the troops are going to 
get nervous whenever she's around. You saw those men. Um, respectfully 
Captain? I don't think they deserve any real kind of punishment. If Foxy's 
projecting passion, then she's projecting other things too; and who 
wouldn't be scared on this mission..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Leave it up to me. Right now what we're dealing with 
is a little something called 'realpolitik'. If I went any softer on those 
guys, then Spectrum would've... well, I mean you just said it, didn'tcha?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did. And he's got a point, since that was... well 
if I even -suspected- that they weren't acting under the influence..."

"They'd be drifting in space in their underroos, Clark. So g'wan. You were 
talking about the crew getting nervous."

"The way I see it, there're two things that make the crew nervous. There's 
her projection and there's the fact that she acts like, well, like a toon. 
And both have the same root problem: they affect the discipline of anyone 
caught in the path. We're a unit. We may 'only' be paramilitary, but you 
wouldn't know it from how seriously the ground-pounders take their 
drilling. You have to be sure you can count on the guy standing behind you 
not to suddenly wonder what it would be like to blow a hole in your head, 
and you have to be sure that -you're- not going to do the same thing to 
the guy in front of you. Throwing her into the mix makes that certainty 
into a toss-up."

Clark paused and took another swallow from the beer. "And just to make it 
worse, she's a bundle of random impulses. You saw what she did with the 
rapid-deployment sled. She took a tactical edge that we had and made it 
-less- effective... entirely for her own jollies. She's a liability to a 
well-oiled unit; and there's no good way to fix that problem in the 
limited time that we have. We're less than two days away from planetfall, 
so we can't drill her with the troops to show them that she's 'not so 
bad'. We had -no- idea that we might need Colleen to whip up some 
psi-blockers, so we don't have a tech solution either."

Tonk blinked, "Then what -do- we have? C'mon Clark, thinking about assets 
that we don't have isn't helping. So think about what we do. What about 
giving the troops a magic-feather?"

"Oh Hell(tm) no! I respect 'em too much for the Dumbo solution. Nope, 
there's only two things I can think of that might pull this situation out 
of the fire."

"Don't keep me in suspense. My beer's getting flat."

"One, we do some brush-ups on mental control techniques. Get people 
sitting zazen, reminding them what they probably haven't been practicing 
the way they should've, make -them- feel like they've got a way to work 
against mental influences.

"And two, I take Spectrum aside and we make it very clear that she's his 
subordinate. He's ex-military, he'll get it as long as he knows it's not 
personal."

"Think those'll work?"

"Got -no- clue. But it's better than us focusing on assets that we don't 
have, isn't it?"

"Too right. Hey, me and a couple've others are sitting down for a game 
later on before we make orbit. Interested?"

"Love to, but got too much to do."

"Don't make it an order.  You've done just about everything you can do to 
prep your men, and I consider this a tactical move to keep you from 
getting too wound up."

Clark looked at the beer bottle, and shrugged. "What're you playing 
anyway?"

"Poker."

"Funny," replied Clark. "I thought we'd been playing that this whole 
trip."

***

Continued in part two.