Nerves tensed, chest tight, and sweat building up once more, Sebastian sat across the small table from Vincent, feeling the additional pressure coming from the compact nature of the borrowed office space.

“Let me first say feel free to use your own native tongue,” Vincent started off with an attempt to relax the atmosphere even if by just a notch. “I want to make sure I get your honest, accurate opinions- and I mean that. I’m strictly here to hear your feelings on a few things, very informal requests on my behalf.”

Sebastian nodded and cleared his throat, feeling he would best stick to doing as asked. [Go ahead, sir. Ask anything.]

“To begin, I need to know your true feelings on how you and your squad had been treated by our leadership teams, including the staff who gathered post-sortie data,” Vincent continued with an uncomfortable grin, perhaps expecting to hear a scathing critique concerning their most recent headbutting with Director Lau back from Manila.

Sebastian took a few moments in thought, taking the question seriously but yet still afraid to truly take his request at face value, pondering the consequences for speaking his mind. It then dawned on him: [Maybe if I do speak my mind, I can know for sure who I can and can’t trust based off his reactions. The worst they could do is relegate me to some off-the-map desk job, or let me go.]

[To be honest, sir,] Sebastian began with increasing confidence along with some jitters creeping up. [I must say the treatment myself, Andre Nguyen, and Kerrington Melancon got was consistently unfair, belittling, and downright humiliating. This goes from Director Lau all the way back to after our near-deaths back in Dhaka. Those weren’t data collections; those were interrogations like we were the terrorists.] He took a breath, pausing to measure Vincent’s reactions which were surprisingly minimal. [The things we needed most were support in any form, but the only support we got was from each other. And to make things worse…] He hesitated once more, but this time out of his own calculations. [Samantha Knight never got such treatment. I would like to say, well, forget about past treatments. Why was there such a disparity, if I may ask?]

Vincent took the time to listen to the steady feed of translations through his earpiece, nodding along the way, occasionally tight-lipping as the tougher criticisms rolled in. “I was afraid that was the case.” He noted Sebastian’s brow rise in response, relieved to have him listening intently as hoped. “After realizing that, I had to work with our board of directors to have that whole system overhauled. It will take time, but since our field teams are under such unexpected and prolonged duress- shall I say perils, our leadership side wasn’t prepared for it. I have already seen to it our worst offenders have been relieved of their positions.”

Something didn’t make sense in that as Sebastian frowned. [Wait, if it wasn’t the administration having Sam treated so exceptionally all along since her father is, well, who he is, then why? Why did everyone else get abused, to put it frankly?]

“That, I’m afraid I don’t know the true answer to,” Vincent carefully replied, catching Sebastian’s expected dissatisfaction. “All I can say is that there were some outside influences involved, which is what our board has already come to a consensus to as it did come up in our meeting concerning field team treatment.”

[Something says he’s covering up something, but what?] He kept his mouth shut, however. [No, now’s not the most useful time for aimless suspicions.]

“But rest assured, it is being dealt with as we speak.” Vincent cleared his throat as he adjusted his posture, seemingly ready to deliver his own question. “I can tell you also want to know the true nature of your official status of being ‘on hold,’ yes?”

[Yes, I would like to know, because last time I checked in with my director here, he said it was solely for affording me time to finish training unimpeded. There is something in particular waiting for myself and Sam, isn’t there?]

“I really do appreciate your frankness, Mr. Navarre,” Vincent shifted stances with a smile. “You remind me so much of your brother.”

[My brother?] Sebastian shot back with a stronger frown.

“Not to worry, son,” Vincent spoke with his hands on the table in a calming gesture. “He’s in fact been working on a few personal missions for me as of recent. He is just merely under arranged agreement to limit who is able to be informed of his movements.”

[You… Renzo has been working for you this whole time?]

“Yes, and that was one of the main reasons I called you here. I want your opinion on a few things I have planned, and one involves putting you and Samantha back in Colombia for a brief stint once your training and her post-operation healing process is complete. How does that sound?”

Sebastian didn’t hesitate to further his hesitance: [If I may ask, what exactly will we be doing?]

Vincent scooted his chair back a bit as to give his hands and arms space to use the gestures necessary to open the holographic display built into their table top. After a few folder navigation swipes, he brought up an “access restricted” page that required his voice input to open. Upon the voice command, the schematics and full illustrations of the Arondight and Galatine came into view. A third placeholder remained blank. “Excalibur cannot continue with the theft of the third piece. We assume it was stolen with intent to pass to the Underground.”

“Hmm,” Sebastian pursed his lips as he recalled hearing similar rumors but never went beyond simple dismissals of such possibilities. [I heard bits and pieces about that, but is that what we are to retrieve, I presume?]

“Not quite.” Vincent then brought up a map of the continent of South America with several regions highlighted. “I have a network of informants, naturally, and as limited as they are with Underground interceptions the number one threat, they can at least monitor. No active tracking allowed, no tracing, no hacking, only communicating within of strict protocol.”

[Well, I get that,] Sebastian thought, given their experiences always being read first before having a chance to even move. [And that explains why we get intel so slowly and always too late. With taps everywhere, what could our intel ops do?]

“What I did manage to pick up from your brother, however,” Vincent continued in a more serious tone, “is what we needed most. An Underground connection within the SAU.”

[Oh, like how Devin Yanga was for the Underground working with Infinity.]

“Opposite case, but true. He has the way to provide you the details I cannot, for as you know anything spilled here will likely be intercepted.”

[I understand. And I will accept only if Sam does as well… which leads me to my last question: Why tell this all to me?]

“I hopefully made it clear that my fullest intentions are to ensure our best assets are treated more fairly,” Vincent replied with a relaxed, affirming chuckle. “In times like these, we absolutely need all of your trust and need for everyone capable of making a difference to be on the same page, so I at least have to provide you with everything going on behind the curtains that I can.”

Sebastian refrained from responding. [I can’t say that’s not what we wished for before…]

“And, fair that we allow you time to consider based on Ms. Knight’s response, especially since I know it would be better received coming from you and not the source of her, well, most recent scares. But you aren’t allowed to share this information in the open, of course. Please bring her back to one of our offices once you two get a chance, and we only have until next Monday before we make our intel makes their first moves. I’ll await your response until then.”

.

.

▽　▽　▽

.

●　● Akkadia One, Eden Space Territories

It would have been nothing more than additional fuel for Sam’s anxiety to remain at her house, her mother’s house specifically, left alone with the endless memories floating suffocatingly throughout each room and hall. But it would have been worse with the guilt that would have come with staying at a hotel instead, feeling as if she were merely running from reality. To compromise, she chose to have company stay with her to at least numb the pain that came with the knowing her home would never be mended, even if her family were to return by some miracle.

She sat on the sofa next to her long-time friend Daja Castille, watching the latest dramas that Sam promised to catch up on once she got a chance to come home. And as unexpectedly empty of an experience it turned out to be, she did find comfort in her friend’s company. Enjoying what used to be a typical night hanging out was surreal, yet relaxing nonetheless.

It was also her first night in some time sharing a drink or three, although it was to help keep her mind off of other things rather than to help forget, hoping to begin the process of replacing nightmares with better things to look back at. The only remaining challenge of being in that house would be to avoid glancing at the wall behind her where her life hung across the wall, told through the various stories of each framed photograph.

But that, however, was one of the newest goals she set as of that day. She had begun looking forward to a new life she could rewrite for herself. She began thinking of what she could do moving forward with her earned connections and experiences through Infinity, where she could consider relocating to, how her new social life would adapt, and how Sebastian would fit into everything. That evening was the day Sebastian was supposed to be finished with his training program, and she had been waiting two long days to hear what the proposal was from above that he would bring with him. But never mind the proposal, she truly just wanted to be back by his side. Everything else would come secondary to that no matter how much future weight it carried.

Her mobile buzzed as a notification shone brightly against the sofa cushion it was placed next to. And as Sam reached down for it as quickly as it lit up, Daja noticed her eyes lighting up in a similar fashion, no longer paying attention at all to the TV display. After years of seeing Sam go through various, very short-lived relationships and break-ups, something had her bothered as evident by her lips curled to one side.

“You really still got a thing for him after all that silence he put you through, huh,” Daja spat out without a care, as this type of response was typical over the years each time something seemed amiss. “Thought you were done with him.”

“Hey, that was me, not him,” Sam flatly replied, eyes buried in the wall of text he had sent her.

“Huh?” Daja frowned, not sure which statement Sam was referring to.

“Hold on.”

“Hold on?” Daja huffed. “You just forgot he’s been hugging around on other women or what? His trainer once again is a woman over there at Jazira for fuck’s sake, Sam! The place I still work at!”

Sam did find it hard to focus on Sebastian’s message, taking in a deep breath in anticipation for the uncomfortable confrontation she felt barreling towards them. “I meant, that was me who was giving him the stupid silent treatment, not the other way around. And about him and Director Norris? You know, it’s more Earth-side cultures than just theirs but they are way more open with their emotions. They hug a lot for many different reasons.”

“Huh? Who the hell wasn’t aware of that?” Daja curtly replied back, now trying to see what was on her screen that had her distracted so heavily.

“Then why’d you so heavily insinuate he was cheating on me?!” Sam shot back, pulling her mobile with her. It wasn’t nearly the first time she had to get defensive with her friends or feel offended by a two-faced comment, but this one actually hurt unlike before. “Like you think I didn’t know my own pilot coach and boyfriend?!”

“Don’t act like you forgot what you said back then- you knew and saw what I saw! And is he really just training right now? How and why has your gullibility regressed since leaving?!”

Sam paused, more like stumbled mentally, frustrated by the fact she knew everything Daja fed her was not only false but seemingly something she had been lying in wait for all this time. Yet, comebacks were never a problem before, why now?

Why am I entertaining this? Sebastian’s on his way here earlier than planned.

She then realized as words finally started to form in her mind. She had so much she wanted to rethink about her future, and one item that never crossed her mind was how it would involve the person sitting next to her; a friend she had been close to since high school was now rapidly taking the role of afterthought. It might be another one of her kneejerk bridge-burnings, but never had it been for the sake of saving another relationship in the process.

“Sam!” Daja pushed on. “Guys have always played around on you since forever ago, but this time this one in particular will lead you down a path no one can save you from!”

Sam always had the words she wanted to say to her. She had just now only uncovered them for the first time in years. “You’ve only been saying that since I dumped that one guy you swore I somehow stole from you- why are you even digging this shit back up anyway?!”

“Because you keep leaving me,” Daja answered back with a wince, voice rapidly cowering. “It feels like you’ve always been trying to one up me when you’ve always been ahead as it was,” she continued, not noticing Sam’s befuddlement as she was unable to look her in the eye. “And now you’re in and out of near-death situations because you’re chasing a boy. I can't let you do that to yourself, Sam. You’ve been the only constant in my social life since before the academy and you used to talk about plans for a bigger life here. What ever happened to that?”

Sam felt a momentary urge to back off, but her senses remained on edge. “I came back to try and remember what I missed about life here. I came back from, yeah, near-death disasters a good number of times,” she spoke with hesitation, holding back her thoughts of strangling her as the idea threatened to take a more realistic, frightening form. “And I come back to this? To be insulted?! You could’ve left the man who saved my life so many times out of your bullshit, Daja.”

“But you heard me earlier!” Daja came back on the offensive but was soon cut off by a glare she hadn’t seen before.

“I see your priorities. You call me gullible, but if I still was any bit as gullible after all the real shit I’ve lived through since June, I wouldn’t see now how clear it is... I left Akkadia to find out my old life here had only fit others’ narratives all along. But it’s not just my mother’s that I don’t fit anymore, it’s yours, too.” Swallowing her emotions that kept trying to boil over was tough, but the course she stayed still seemed most appropriate.

“Well,” Daja started replying with a tear of frustration and pain welling up. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed through her own frustration as she stood up staring emptily at the still-running TV display. “I was trying to deny it since getting back the other day, but I don’t fit here anymore. A lot has helped me realize that. Thanks.”

“What? That’s it?” Daja blurted out as she too stood up in a hurt confusion. “You called me over for this shit!?”

Sam looked down at her buzzing mobile to see another old friend show up on screen. It was her friend from the club she last saw the night she failed her final bar exam attempt months back. Everything felt so fake and shattering into pieces all at once it was sickening. And whatever it was that held her emotions in check went out the window that instant. “Yes, damn it!” Sam belted out subconsciously, grabbing the mobile and heaving it squarely at the display. Due to the thin nature of the film used to disperse the lighting, a myriad of cracks shot through to each border as the mobile itself ricocheted off of the wall with a bang and a slinging of fragmented frame and wall material. “This is exactly what I needed!”

Daja ducked as if the ricochet was from a bullet off the wall, letting out a scream.

Sam, huffing from her adrenaline-fueled instant of rage, looked back at Daja with disappointment. She felt she looked at who she used to be. Judgmental. A know-it-all. A flake. Superficial. Bound by social circles.

Scared.

Weak.

“Get out.”