“Per Commander Ziggenbor’s testimony—“

“Account.” Neerson cut across her.

“I’m sorry?”

“This is not a legal proceeding, General Franklin, this is not a tribunal despite the appearances. Testimony, however, is one of the words being used to make it seem like those answering your questions are under oath.” Neerson turned away from her. “I could be standing in place down where I was seated moments ago, my words would be just as valid. To your point, however, Commander Ziggenbor’s account did involve him saying that he would have conducted himself no differently, regardless of his brother’s involvement.” Neerson made a shrug that was very slightly exaggerated. “To your point? I am surprised you managed to goad Commander Ziggenbor as far as you it, it caused him to steal some of my spotlight. But he’s right, general.” Neerson rose, and he gestured to Martin. “What would you have rather him say, especially in this fool’s court?”

When there was no answer, Neerson turned to General Franklin. “That was not a rhetorical question, General.”

“The purpose of this hearing is to discover the events surrounding Project Red Savior, in their entirety.” General Franklin said.

“General.” Neerson said in a patient tone. “The purpose of this hearing has not ever been any such thing. I rendered the purpose for this… farce, moot and void when I sent the full files of data, raw, and otherwise analyzed, to General Greer before I departed the EMAR, nearly a week ago. And more besides.” Neerson flicked a gaze toward the two star General, who was seated with his eyes forward and jaw set.

General Franklin switched the microphone in front of her off, and for a moment or six, Martin felt an unexpected feeling of panic flutter through him. It looked as though they were arguing. Well, it looked like Franklin was arguing, it looked like Neerson was, as ever, explaining.

The microphone clicked back on. “General Greer.” Franklin bit out. “Would you explain to the board why you did not bring Fleet Admiral Neerson’s generosity to light?”

Greer said nothing.

“Would you like to explain how you received the intelligence of the destruction of the 3-95th nearly three minutes before the transmission from the Ascendancy was completed?”

Greer remained silent.

“And would you like to tell the board what IM Third Sight is?”

At this, Greer’s eyes snapped around, but he remained silent. As Franklin opened her mouth to snap something else, Neerson placed a hand on the edge of her dais. “Not, a legal proceeding, General, I would remind you.” He said. “Nor is he the subject of inquiry for this hearing.”

“Neither are your pet officers,” Franklin said in a scathing tone. “But you let me grill them. Why defend him?”

“Whom would you seek wisdom from, General?” Neerson asked. “Would it be the poor man who has enough to see the sunset and is happy? Or a rich man who indulged himself to the point where the sunrise may never come for him?”

“Damn your riddles, Neerson.”

“Then let me be clear: don’t seek the truth from liars.” Neerson said. “Question me, not him.”

“No.” General Greer stood to his feet.

“Be quiet, Greer, and sit.”

“He’ll spin his lies.” Greer said, his face going from red to pale. “Let me take the stand, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“What you want to know, General.” Neerson said. The admiral opened his mouth again, and shut it again, waiting.

Martin did the same thing that Franklin did, though without the pronounced head movement as she looked between the two men. If Martin wasn’t very much mistaken, Greer was… trembling, and his face remained ashen. Neerson was the picturesque of calm as well… save for his own hands. One was buried in his pocket, and the other was clenched into a fist so tightly that white and red were in stark contrast.

“General,” Neerson said, but Franklin stood.

“Adjourned.” She said, her voice quavering out over the room, the board seats and the dignitaries. “These matters are concluded.”

“When will they be reconvened?”

Franklin ignored him, and came down from dais, and left the room. The other dignitaries also proceeded to the exits, though Martin noticed, as he and Benson approached, looked as though they were fleeing a crime scene. Only when he reached Neerson did Martin realize that another person was standing there, behind the Admiral, and some few paces away.

For the first time since Martin had made his acquaintance, General Greer didn’t look hostile. He looked relieved, some of the blood returning to his face as he stood quietly behind Neerson as if waiting for the admiral to turn and acknowledge him.

“Admiral.” Greer said. “Admiral, you can’t tell them.”

“That is not your decision to make.” Neerson said, and Martin was shocked to hear his voice trembling violently with rage.

“It has to be someone’s.” Greer said, almost apologetically. “You don’t have anything solid, I know that. Go through the appropriate channels when you do, but you can’t… do this.” Greer gestured at the empty room. “Don’t.”

“Benson.” Neerson held out his hand, into which Benson placed a data card. Flipping it to Greer like a coin over his shoulder, Neerson beckoned to the men with him, and they left the room.

Though he was taller than Neerson, Martin had trouble matching his pace, and though Benson was shorter than Martin, the Captain seemed to have no trouble matching the Commander.

“Damn him.” Neerson muttered. “That worm, that… fucking weasel.”

It was new for Martin, to hear Neerson so vitriolic. He remained quiet, remembering all the times that Neil had argued with their grandfather. The small man wouldn’t fly off into a raging inferno of a temper; instead he would descend into the cold resolve of anger and immovable stubborn resolve.

The times that there were flames and explosions of fury, it was a welcome change.

Neerson carried all the intensity and pent up fury of an oncoming storm as he tapped the entry panel to their quarters. “Do you have the other?” He snapped, holding out a hand. Benson slapped another data card there, and Neerson pocketed it.

“Gentlemen, we have been beat.” Neerson said, and seated himself at the small table.

“Sir?” Benson said. “I don’t understand.”

“I can see that. Sit.” He did. “You too, Ziggenbor.” Martin did, and the Admiral seemed to forget that they were there in an instant. He remained seated with his fingers intertwined.

They had been together for a time, they three, but Martin felt now with great clarity that he was in uncharted waters being this close to a flag officer. Particularly this Flag Officer. Once he had been the Navy’s fog horn on a clear day. Loud, obvious, unnecessary. Now he was, Martin was realizing, the Navy’s shadow when the sun was at their back.

Neerson placed his table on the table and inserted the data card. For the first moment, there was silence. The next, static. “It is a trick,” Neerson said. “To peel back audio layers to enhance clarity while also encrypting the file so as to maintain the security of its contents.”

The static keener once, and then morphed into the unmistakable sound of a marauder fighter.

“Angel three, this is Black Bear.”

“He won’t answer.”

“Angel three, come in for Black Bear.”

Martin felt the hairs on his arm standing up. He and Benson traded looks; the pilot hadn’t heard this either.

“Angel three!” Yelled the voice into the com.

A squealing came through the tablet, and solidified. “Fuck off Cody.”

“They’re leaving, Angel.” The voice was a snarl with a sprinkle of pleading. “God damn it, they’re leaving. They’re doing what you want. Just let them get off the planet.”

Silence.

“No one else has to die, Angel.”

More silence.

A heartbeat more, and there was a barely audible click. “Pulling a dry pass, but if you see an opening--" Static obscured the voice and evened out for a short time.

Then a rattle of hard ammunition fire mingled with the hissing sound of the felbound’s deadly trajectory, and the tablet went quiet, joining the rest of the room. Martin’s heart was beating very fast, and he took in the Admiral’s flat expression.

“You have done very well, Captain Benson.” He said quietly. “This is information that I have long suspected.”

“I still don’t get it, sir.” Benson said.

“You are in good company.” Neerson said. “I have only speculated myself, though more educated than yours, perhaps. Tell me, have you heard of the Suspected Terrorist and Enemy Group Engagement Legion?”

—

Neil collapsed into a heap, rolled onto his back and kicked a metal bin. It flew across the room and smashed into a wall, the sound ringing through the room full of equipment. “Doctor Krell did tell you that you weren’t ready to walk by yourself.” Natalie said from behind her hands.

Rolling again, Neil went to his hands and knees. “I remember…” He muttered, managing to get back to his feet and wobbling back to the parallel bars he had been using for the past days. “But he also said that there’s no reason for me not to be able to walk, either.”

“That’s not what he said.” Natalie crossed her arms. “He said that you had biologically taken to the cybernetics and that given time to adjust to them mentally, you would be able to walk in time.”

“So the only thing keeping me from walking is me. That’s what it sounds like.”

“You need to give yourself time.” Natalie pleaded. “You need to let me make adjustments as you need them, to your arm especially.”

“It’s my leg that isn’t working right.”

“Your leg is working perfectly.” Natalie said, stung. “I designed it, I fitted you for it. It works. Perfectly, when you tell it to do the right things, and that’s what you’re learning now.”

“Is there any way for me to learn faster?” Neil snarled, losing his balance and catching himself again. “Because this is bullshit.”

Natalie glared at him as he walked back and forth, up and down the parallel bars, muttering profanity and dark curses as he did. “Do you remember when I wanted to learn how to play the piano?” She asked.

Neil looked up. “I still have nightmares about it, why?”

“You got me that book of scales to practice, and I was so excited that I barely ate for three days, and you had to lock the room to keep me from sneaking in at night to play, do you remember that?”

“Yeah.”

“And then do you remember when I mastered three of the super basic scales in a week that most people master in two days and then I flew into a rage because I couldn’t play that piano cover of Master of Puppets, do you remember that?”

“Hard to forget that one either.”

“Do you remember how much sense that made?”

Neil glared for long enough to make it clear he understood the point, turned his back, walked to the end of the bars, held both hands in the air with each middle finger extended, took one step, and fell.

“I know how you felt now.” She muttered.

“Am I interrupting?”

Natalie turned, her eyes wide as Matt walked up to the chair she was seated in. “I… Matt. No, you’re just… you’re,”

“Not supposed to be here without expressed permission from the patient, yeah, I know.” He smiled a tight, pained smile. “But I’ve got the Colonel’s backing on this one. Do you mind if I… just talk to him?”

Natalie looked between Matt and where Neil was still sitting, his back to them. Then she hopped up, and walked from the room. The door shut, and Matt assumed that she was hovering around the door with Henderson, both of them waiting for their chance to spring back to the sides of their charges.

“I’m sorry.” Matt said. “I know you don’t want to see me. And you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but I got the SOS from the W. I’ve got to head back, today if possible and…” He huffed out a sigh, trying to keep the promise he had made to himself to not get emotional. “I wanted to see you, even if you were going to tell me to go fuck myself and get back to the others wearing ties. For what its worth, though… I’m happy that you’re still with us.”

Neil put his head down, still silent.

“Yeah…” Matt ran a hand across the top of his head. “You’ve got my number, man. You call me whenever, I’ll be there.” He turned and took three steps.

“Wait.” The word might have been a whisper, but Matt heard it loud and clear. He turned to see Neil struggling to his feet, using the bars to haul himself up. Matt wanted to go to him, but he knew his brother, and only went a few steps forward as Neil walked, limping heavily, along the bars. There were ten feet between them when Neil let go of the bars. He walked, haltingly, taking pauses, but he walked every one of those ten feet until his legs gave out. Matt caught him, and together they tumbled to the ground.

Shoulders shaking with wracking sobs, Neil cried into his big brother’s chest, and Matt held him tight. “You’re alright, little brother.” He said softly. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“Sorry I didn’t…” Neil gasped out. “I couldn’t look… you couldn’t see me.”

“See you like this?” Matt squeezed his brother. “I helped grandma wipe your ass, Neil. I helped you up when you used to fall off the stupid walls you used to like climbing. I was there when they brought you into the med bay after they pulled you out of that burning house… I’ve seen you hurt.”

“Not like this.”

“So fucking what?” Matt said, losing the fight against emotion. “What did you think it would do? Make me think less of you?”

Neil was silent. “There’s so much metal.” He said, almost childlike. “There’s so much of me that’s gone now.”

“Hey.” Matt said, pulling away to look down. “There’s still more of you. I’ll be worried when you stop talking back to people who need it, deal?”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Exactly. C’mon.” Matt helped Neil up and to the chair Natalie had vacated. “I’m serious too. Barring getting my ass chewed out on the floor, you ring and I’ll answer.”

“Yeah.” Neil said, wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have let you come sooner.”

“Technically you didn’t let me come this time either, ass.” Matt said. “But I wouldn’t expect less from you. Stubborn bag of rocks. Knowing you were alive and pissed off was enough.”

Neil looked up at that and nodded. Then he put his head back down. “I didn’t get anyone out.” He said quietly.

That made Matt pause, for a moment. “I’m not good enough to know how to encourage you on that front, so I’m not gonna try.” He said quietly. “But if I had the right words to say to help you feel easier, I would.”

Neil nodded.

“Have you checked in on Sergeant Valentine?”

“No. How did his tests go?”

“Not well.” Matt said. “I sat with him for a while, all I could do really. I know he’s not one you were trying to get out, but he’a the one that’s left. And seeing you would do good things for him, especially for what’s coming. I know you’ve got your own stuff going on inside, but I know you.” Matt put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Helping someone else has always helped you.”

Neil blinked at that, nodded once, and hugged his brother.

“Be in touch.” Matt said. “If I don’t hear from you in a week, I’ll ping you. I love you, little brother.”

“You too.” Neil said, and Matt departed. Natalie came back in a few minutes later, scrubbing her eyes as well. “You Ziggenbor boys really know how to cry.” She muttered. “Big softies. What’s next for you?”

“Nothing in here,” Neil said, flexing his right hand. “Can we go up to see Valentine?”

“I’ll check.” After a short conference with Henderson, Natalie returned. “You’re on the short list, courtesy of Colonel Vance. When do you want to go?”

“Now.”