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The Lady of Light - Chapter 4

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Four hours ago...

"Cortes, are you serious? I am not staying on this rustbucket, doing nothing, whilst you chase down my husband!"

It had been a long journey, stretched out by the fact Mila was dead nervous. Being stuck with Cortes for the whole trip hadn't helped. She'd been angry with him initially, when he'd finally informed her he'd known of Marcus' whereabouts for nearly an entire year. He'd taken her outburst well enough; she figured he'd realised he'd done wrong by her. But that initial anger, coupled with the tediousness of being stuck on a ship with the same person for weeks, hunting Marcus down far too slowly for her liking, had built and built. Cortes' own moods were never the best and they'd simply riled and irritated each other to no end.

So it was when it came down to the crunch, they'd located the bloc Marcus was on, the very tavern with near enough certainty they had both agreed this was it, Cortes' unpredicted announcement that it might be best if he was the one to finally corner Marcus, by himself, was not something Mila was prepared to take lightly.

Cortes was in no better mood than her, it seemed, because no sooner were the words out of her mouth and he was huffing and rolling his eyes and muttering, in that goddamned accent of his, "Will you at least try not to get upset?"

Honestly, she'd had enough. "At least I'm not emotionally constipated!" she snapped.

Cortes scowled at her. Well, that got his attention. "I'm just trying to... for gods sake we've nearly found him. Can we try and be reasonable and get this done?"

Mila folded her arms. "I am trying to be reasonable. I just don't understand why you want to do this alone. He's my husband; its me he's avoided for..." Time flashed before her eyes. Every moment Marcus hadn't been there. She felt her fists tighten and her throat begin to burn. Push it down she told herself, that was the last thing she needed now. "... twenty years. Don't you think it's me he needs to answer to?"

"Yes," said Cortes. "And that's what worries me."

"You think I can't handle it? Seriously, what do you expect me to do? Start balling like a banshee?"

"No," Cortes growled. "I think you'd be more likely to seijin blast him into the middle of next week. I mean, I was worried you were going to toss me off this ship a couple of times in the past month."

Mila wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. "He'd deserve it if I did."

"Probably," Cortes harrumphed.

"I'm coming with you."

"Mila..."

"Cortes," she snapped back at him.

"Mila," Cortes continued. "I'm telling you the first thing Marcus is going to do when he sees you is turn tail and run. I've at least got a chance of not spooking him."

Mila stared at him. Of course the thought had occurred to her. Why else wouldn't Marcus want to return? "You think he doesn't want to see me." Mila felt the burning in the back of her throat again. She turned away from Cortes and swallowed.

"I think he doesn't want you to see him," Cortes said, his voice softer now. "If there's anything left of the man he once was he'd be ashamed of himself. He should be."

Mila drew in a breath and wiped a hand across her eyes, pushing away the tears that had sprung up. "You're right, a part of me wants to toss him overboard. The other just wants to ask him why the hell he would stay away for so long."

"You can ask him that when I bring him back here. It'll only take me a couple hours, I promise."

"Sorry..." she sniffed. This was just what she had wanted to avoid.

Cortes sighed. "It's fine, Mila. Look, I know this is hard. I have no idea what state Marcus is going to be in when I find him and I get that it's probably going to be a long way to go for you to trust him again. But..." His brow furrowed and he looked at the floor, struggling to find his words. "But... there's... there's so many people I've lost... if I found out any of them were still alive... " he shook his head and huffed at himself. "All I'm saying is don't worry too much. All other things aside you've got an opportunity you wouldn't have otherwise had..." He trailed off as he caught her staring at him. "Did that come out wrong?"

"No," Mila shook her head. She smiled and stepped forward, taking Cortes by the shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. She couldn't help letting out a small laugh as she felt him go stiff as a board. "You're a sweetheart."

Cortes endured the hug for a few seconds before pulling himself free. "Aye, don't tell anyone."

"I can't promise I won't come looking for you if you take too long."

Cortes nodded. "I'll be quick. Promise." And with that he headed out the small ships hatch and down onto the docks. Mila watched him leave, and drew in a breath. She would be seeing Marcus in mere hours and she did not know what to expect.

* * *

Present

It was to a pounding headache and dry mouth that Marcus finally woke. It was nothing new to him. He opened his eyes and saw only a blur. He groaned, squeezed his eyes shut again and rubbed his fists into his eye sockets. The pounding started to subside, if only marginally. Something was different. At the back of Marcus' mind floated the thought that something had happened, something different than the usual amount of trouble he got himself into when he really went off the deep end.

He swallowed and pushed himself up groggily, rubbing his eyes again. He managed to clear his vision. An unfamiliar room came into focus, a small ship's sleeping quarters. Light filtered in through grimy windows and set off the throbbing in his head again. He squinted. A shape was in front of him, within the room. It was still blurry. A woman.

Marcus was certain it was not a woman who had him on edge. He rather remembered that he may have been in a fight? He'd had to run. Not that his memory could be trusted. Still, he decided that perhaps it was best to play it cool until he figured out what was going on.

"What time is it?" he asked, blearily.

The woman let out a sigh. "You've been out most of the night."

His mind was playing tricks on him again. Why did they always sound like Mila? Marcus blinked, squinting up at her. A face came into view. Dark hair. God, this one even looked like Mila! Was he picking women that shared her features, even in his drunken state, or was it simply guilt that made his mind play tricks on him and...

Marcus drew in a sharp breath, jerked full upright and pressed himself back against the head of the bed. In the confined space of the ship's sleeping quarters he slammed his head on the metal underside of the bunk above. He grunted, but the knock to the head did nothing to change what he saw. Marcus swallowed hard, barely able to find his voice. "Mila...?" he finally croaked.

Everything came rushing back. The failed flight from Cortes. Talk of the machine. He'd said Mila was alive. His kids. Mila was here.

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's me." Mila sat on the edge of his bunk. She sat and stared at him with a caution Marcus had never seen in her, but she also had that intent look in her eyes, the one that seemed to pull at him. She studied him for a moment, as if taking in the changes in his face. She too had changed; grown older. What did he look like to her? The man who'd left her and turned up dirty and smelling of alcohol.

Mila reached out a hand towards him, and Marcus drew back, but there was nowhere for him to go. Mila's fingers brushed his cheek, sending tremors like electrical pulses right through him. Marcus raised a trembling hand, grasping her fingers in his.

"Where have you been?" Mila asked. The words were not an accusation. They were simply a question, a desire to know the answer to something that she had been unable to grasp.

Marcus fumbled for words. He had rehearsed, over and over again, in various states of sobriety, what his answer would be to such a question. He had concocted a thousand excuses, a thousand explanations that would justify him. All paled and died on his lips in the face of the woman he loved. Nothing could possibly suffice. Marcus felt his voice catch. "I... I was... being an idiot." His voice cracked, he shuddered and hung his head. "I'm... sorry."

Mila's arms were around him, and Marcus let himself be drawn into her embrace, burying his face in her hair.

* * *

They were already hours into the journey, and it would take them the good part of the rest of the day to arrive back at Puerto Angel. Cortes had left Mila with an unconscious Marcus in the back of the small ship. He sat at the forward controls, he'd been there since the early hours of the morning, watching the skies change from black to purple to orange. It was one of those rare moments where despite the unending pressures, despite the weight of fears and worry, Cortes found himself able to put these aside and allow himself to simply be at peace in the moment. The steady thrum of the ships engines were a barely acknowledged background noise. He drew in a slow breath, watching the warming light play off clouds and rock spires.

It was in these moments that he found himself thinking oddly sentimental thoughts, like how this same sunrise could be seen from any number of vantage points. And the thought that followed this was that he himself could be watching it from any number of vantage points, in fact, from a set of completely different circumstances. What would he be doing if wasn't fighting this fight? It was with some sadness that Cortes always found he had no set goal or dream for life when the Sphere's oppression was ended. Ideas floated through his mind, of course, though none set themselves in stone. Farming, the Saint Nazaire converted to a trading vessel with no need for excessive weaponry, raising a family... The last was one he always found himself pausing on. This he knew he could never achieve unless they actually defeated the Sphere. No truce or mere retreat of the Sphere would convince him to bring children into a world where they were brainwashed at the academy if they were seijins, or treated like second class citizens and robbed of basic resources if they were not.  It was something he'd felt so strongly about, especially after his own then recent experiences in the gladiator ring, that he and Tian - Cheng's mother - had agreed to halt their growing relationship. Remaining together would have been unfair to one or the other of them. Irony was that when she and Jacob died, Cortes had taken Cheng as his own. But that was different. And perhaps that meant he already had a family.

Cortes found himself smiling faintly, and huffed at himself. "Bloody sunrises..." he muttered. He was never really bothered by his inability to settle on any future for himself. There was enough issues to deal with in the present moment, and for all he knew the Sphere would be around right up to the day he died.

Pulling himself away from the contemplative mood, he busied himself surveying the controls. Suddenly something chirped, and for a second Cortes wondered what he had touched.

"Cortes, this is the Vector. Can you read me?"

It was the communications system. They had just entered a rebel controlled zone, so it was likely the ship had been picked up on one of their listening posts, alerting the Vector to their impending arrival. Cortes shook his head, he'd only gotten a few hours sleep in the uncomfortable forward seats, no wonder he was jumpy.

"Good morning to you too, Vector."

There was a pause as the message transmitted.

"Cortes, I take it you've found what you were looking for?"

Cortes glanced behind him, to where they'd stashed Marcus. "More or less..."

"There have been some developments lately, and I think the worries you told me of were well founded. The council is holding a meeting right now, I suggest you adjust your course and head straight to the usual meeting place. I think you'll find they'll listen to you now."

Cortes felt that awful feeling rising in his gut. The Vector could dither when he was ready, but when he was blunt and to the point, more so than the actual contents of his message, it meant something serious was going on. "What sort of developments?"

"I'll send you the relevant image files. Dahlia was able to capture some of the battle with the Saint Nazaire's recording equipment. The Sphere have some new technology, and it caused major damage to the ships involved, though I think it could have done far more..."

Cortes' brow furrowed. "Is she alright?"

A brief pause. "Dahlia, or the Saint Nazaire?"

"Dahlia!" Cortes barked. Then the man's phrasing struck him. "What happened to my ship?"

"Dahlia is fine, but unfortunately we did lose one man. The Saint Nazaire took damage to some of its systems, and the Leviathan was lost."

"Damn..."

"That's not all. It's not in the footage, but Lena says she fought this new technology. It called itself the enforcer. It looked like a new model of Brig to begin with, but she said it used seijin powers. She was at full power when she fought it, but still couldn't stop it."

Cortes rolled his eyes. "Lena is not the solution to everything, Vector."

"Yes, I know what you think, Cortes." A note of irritation had crept into the Vector's voice. "But she is quite powerful, and I think a fair representation of one of the resistance's major strengths. Her inability to stop it should at least worry you."

"I'm already worried."

"I know. Watch the footage. I'll see you soon.”

Cortes did. And then he adjusted the small ships course and continued under full power to Golkonda.

* * *

Golkonda was more packed than Mahad could ever recall. The particular section of the old fort they used for thier meetings was high enough that it could usually be easily cordoned off if the nature of things under discussion was particularily sensitive. As they were now. The fact the Sphere had a new technology that could spell the end of the resistance certainly counted. However, the captains who had heard the news had brought along those under them who they felt were best able to deliberate and digest the news. There were a few scientists and engineers, and weapons experts. All Mahad could see was a giant argument unfolding, some of the participants were just using bigger words than others.

They'd been at it for nearly three days. It had taken the better part of the week to get the message out and the captains gathered on Golkonda. And then they had argued. There wasn't much doubt over the fact they were quite possibly in trouble. Dahlia had managed to capture the enforcer's attack on the Leviathan and the Saint Nazaire. Lena had confirmed she was certain it was using some sort of seijin powers, if not the type they were used to. His little sister was generally accepted to be an expert on this sort of thing (which she was), so no one argued about this, but they did argue the details.

Directed at Lena:

Did seijin powers make it a seijin?

No, not really.

Was it a machine?

Yes, but she wasn't quite sure it was that simple.

Was it's power's running on a different frequency? (Whatever the hell that meant.)

The Vector thought this would explain Lena's inability to damage it.

Could standard weaponry defeat it?

Iziel thought they should find it again, shoot it, and find out. After all it had to pay for the destruction of the Leviathan.

How did it even work?

One of the other captains threw this one at Elise, who apparently should have known because she was an engineer. She swore at him and told him she couldn't reverse engineer a machine from a bit of fuzzy imagery.

What would they do in response?

This was the big one, and it had kept them going back and forth for the better part of the day. Options ranged from full scale retreat to full scale attack. Somewhere in the middle was a combination of gaining more information about the Sphere's new technology and striking back in their own way. Just what this involved, and how they should go about it were the current topics of debate.

Dahlia was currently engaged in this argument, and Mahad found himself doing little but listening. Or trying to. Feeling as if he was contributing nothing, and frustrated with everything anyway, Mahad sat himself down on a chunk of broken stone and groaned.

"I agree." Wayan was sitting beside him. He had slipped out of the argument about ten minutes ago. He had his chin in one hand, his elbow on one knee and was watching with vague interest and a hint of exhaustion.

"You know while I think its great that we've got so much support now..." Mahad let out a sigh. "Why does it have to take so long to make a decision! I mean, I thought Cortes was bad."

"He's going to be stressed as when he gets back and finds out what's been going on," Wayan shook his head. "I hope what he was doing was important."

"Hope he gets back soon..." Mahad could see Wayan give him a curious glance, and he tried to ignore it. His attitude had changed somewhat towards Cortes in the last few years. He was older, and some of the childish attitudes he'd had had slipped away, but that wasn't the only reason. As the resistance had grown, despite their relative success, there had been the inevitable losses. These had never really hit home for Mahad until the day his friend Shoomday had gone off on a mission with Iziel - a mission Cortes had refused to go on, and Mahad had called him a coward for - and returned in a body bag. All the lectures in risk and shouting matches and headbutting had hit home on that day. Though it was not that, but the fact Cortes had sought him out after he'd heard the news, not to say I told you so, but to check he was alright. Mahad had been in the tavern, determined to spend the night drinking himself into oblivion. He had partially succeeded, and only remembered the first part of their conversation. But he did know that Cortes had sat up with him, for as long as he could recall, and that he had never forgotten.

They still fought, and they still disagreed on the best way to approach an attack, but if Mahad wasn't mistaken, Cortes at least tried to listen to what he had to say as much as Mahad tried to listen to him.

"Yeah, I said it," he finally muttered. Wayan was still smirking at him, not guessing to where his thoughts had wandered, and Mahad didn't really want to make him feel bad about it. He looked about and tried to find something else to focus on, apart from Wayan's smirk.

Cheng sat a short distance away on some crumbling stone stairs, pounding away on his laptop. There was nothing unusual about this, save that the Vector, Christophe, Lena and Elise, were all crammed in and leaning over the young man's shoulder, staring intently at what he was doing.

"Geeks..." Mahad muttered under his breath. But curiosity got the better of him and he stood to his feet and wandered over to see what all the fuss was about.

"It's very basic at the moment, but I think I can get it working," Cheng was saying.

"That's basic?" Christophe squinted at the screen.

"It's code, genius," muttered Elise.

"Well, I know that, genius."

"There's certainly something to be gained by accessing the enforcer's systems and learning what we can," said the Vector. "I think what you've started here has real potential, Cheng. You need to inform the council. I think it may bear on how they choose to counter this new threat."

Cheng stared at the older man. "What... you mean me? Tell them myself?"

"I'm pretty sure you're the only one who can explain it, lad," said Christophe.

Cheng looked panicked, but the Vector was already getting to his feet and waving his arms about erratically at the arguing council. "Everyone, if I could please have your attention!"

Mahad could barely hear him, and the council certainly couldn't. Even if they did they continued their dialogue without the slightest break. "He's got no hope..."

"Hang on..." Elise stood up, put two fingers in her mouth, and let out a high pitched whistle that cut through the air. The arguing council members seemed to lose their train of thought and glanced over their shoulders in search of the sound.

"Wow..." Christophe raised his eyebrows.

"Cheng has something to share," the Vector continued.

Cheng looked a little uncomfortable as he stepped forward, his computer cradled in his arms. But despite his obvious nervousness he cleared his throat and began: "I think I've found a way to get into the enforcer's systems. It's just a machine after all. I've started writing a program that might be able to download some information from it. Depending on what I get, I might even be able to shut it down completely."

"Depending?" Iziel raised an eyebrow.

"Come on," said Dahlia, "It's better than anything anyone else has come up with so far."

"I still want to shoot it."

"It sounds feasible to me," one of the captains said. He was a broad shouldered man, well muscled with dark skin. His voice boomed when he spoke. "How will you get this program onto the enforcer?"

"I'd have to get close to it..."

"You don't want to get close to that thing, Cheng," said Mahad, surprising even himself with the outburst. "I mean... even Lena could barely handle it."

"I'm not a kid, Mahad," Cheng snapped. "And I'm not stupid. I wouldn't have to get near it myself. Just get the program near. If we knew where it was going to be, I could set up something to upload the program to it, and then download any data it collects. No one would have to go near it."

"Sounds like it might work," the same captain said.

"It's still not a complete plan, Muffasa," said Iziel. "Helpful as it may be, I really think we need to take some definitive action."

"Good luck with that, you don't even have a ship anymore," a thin man with an eye patch snickered.

"Oh, be quiet."

"Come on," Lena interjected. "We need to stop bickering. We've been at this for three days! Don't you think we need to decide something..."

"I might be able to suggest a solution you'd find 'definitive', Iziel." The new voice was unmistakable, and Mahad glanced over his shoulder to see Cortes bound up the topmost stone step and onto their level of the fort.

"Oh, so here comes the cavalry!" said Iziel. "Where the hell have you been, Cortes? You disappear without an explanation for nearly a full month?"

"I didn't realise we were required to check our every move with the council, Iziel," Cortes growled. "This isn't the Sphere."

He was in a mood. Mahad could see the strain in his shoulders and the set of his jaw.

"She's upset about her ship," said Muffasa.

"I'm not upset..."

"But she does make a good point. We set up the council for a reason - so we could collaborate and share our strengths and resources. It doesn't really work if you disappear when we may need your assistance."

"I left you my ship," Cortes snapped back. "And my crew. I'm not all that important." He drew in a breath, and tried to calm himself somewhat. "But I understand if you're angry; though in this case I figured it best to act now and ask for forgiveness later. The council may have helped us collaborate, but it does have at least one weakness..."

"And what would that be?" Iziel asked pointedly.

"It's slow. How long have you been up here arguing?"

"Three days, sir," said Dahlia.

"Aye."

"You're hardly one to be preaching rash decision making, Cortes," Iziel scowled. "You won't put your ship on the line, you won't go on any mission where victory is not assured, you bolt whenever a fight gets dangerous..."

Cortes strode across the stone floor and glared down at Iziel. She glared back, and for a moment there was an uncomfortable silence, as if everyone was waiting for a fight to start. Mahad was unconcerned. He'd seen Cortes stomp and rant and glare down more times than he could count, but he could only once remember him flat out decking someone - a man they'd caught smuggling seijin children. He'd been nearly twice Cortes' size, and he'd stood no chance.

"You want someone to preach to you?" Cortes finally said. "Well, yeah okay. I've got someone for you. Someone you'll actually listen to..." He stomped back to the top of the stairs. "You can bring him up, Mila."

Mahad glanced across at Dahlia, and she shrugged. Mahad had already asked her if she had any clue what mission Cortes and Mila had gone on, but they hadn't filled her in either. Mahad looked back to see his mother bring a dark haired, broad chested man to the top of the stone stairs, and shove him up towards Cortes. Cortes caught the man's arm and hauled him forward to stand before the council.

For a moment, Mahad didn't get it. The man looked a little uncomfortable, as well as a tad unsteady on his feet.

"Oh my god."

Mahad looked again at Dahlia. She had a hand over her mouth, staring at the man. "What...?"

Dahlia glanced across at Mahad. "It's... it's Marcus Farrell." She put a hand on his shoulder. "It's your father."

Okay, so Marcus’ introduction to Mahad and Lena is going to lack tact. But it’s more fun that way. XD

I nearly cut it out, but I decided to keep the scene where Cortes hears about the enforcer, mostly for his contemplation. I’m going to try and shove a bit of backstory and character development in this story. Skyland hinted at a few different things, but they never went into a lot of detail. In one of the episodes they hinted that Cortes and Cheng’s mother had been ‘once very close’ without saying more. So I hope my explanation for Cortes and Cheng’s mother breaking up makes sense. I figured this was better than making it all angsty or dramatic, as you’ve got to still care about a guy on some level if you decide to leave your kid with him.

Also, yes, I killed Shoomday at some point in the past. Mahad needed some character development. Sorry Shoomday.

Please review!

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Stratoc's avatar
Holy crap.. I just read this... I should read the previous 3 chapters for context but- seems interesting! Never really got any closure from that show (even the comic didn't get an ending ahhrhfnfldkdnhhghhhnn). Skyland was a cool universe, and I like where this is going. It feels like closure to me. Also. As far as I'm concerned your writing is canon so there