Echo, in Aquarius

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#### The original idea, which grew everything off of it.

==== It is 2604 and humans have colonized the galaxy, started numerous wars, and created great swathes of new technology, but still cannot prevent a storm. Relief teams remain the best way to rescue survivors. With the ongoing war, however, there are not enough to get the job done. The solution? Draft military teams fighting nearby battles.

### Echo, in Aquarius

"This assignment sucks." The wind and rain would have drowned out the man's words, had the pair not been given communication lines. "I'm cold, I'm wet, I can't hear myself think, and I'm pretty sure I'm catching something." The complainer was momentarily silhouetted as the last remaining outside-light sparked, burst, and fell.

"You are just irritated because you disposed of your coat."

"You'd be too, if you were a cold-blooded fellow like me! I need heat, and dryness, and warmth! Not *this* miserable abomination of weather!" There was nothing left but lightning and theatrics to brighten a wretched night.

"You should have considered that before you relinquished it to the child."

"But he looked like death. Even with decent lighting, he looked like death. Not warmed-over death either, just death. I mean, I know that *I* probably look like death too, but he looked more dead than I did."

"You are more akin to a rat."

"I can't argue with that. A dead, cold, drowned rat. That's me." The man sneezed into his comm-link. "A dead, cold, *sick*, drowned rat. Told you I was getting something."

"It was just a sneeze. You will continue to be."

"But I'm a dead rat! I don't want to be a zombie-rat!" Even through the comm-line, the storm was nearly drowning out his words. "Think of how that would turn out for the rest of this planet, the rest of this sector!" A burst of lightning, and a terrific crack of thunder. Rain pounded down. "Oo! Zombie-rat Cal is coming to eat your brains!"

"That would read as a poorly-created movie from the 21st century." Her voice wasn't even slightly amused. Although she was bantering along with Cal, the assignment annoyed her just as much as it did him. She should be out fighting, saving civilians from a dangerous enemy, not rescuing stragglers who couldn't figure out there was a storm coming.

"Movie? Brains and zombies aren't from movies. Zombie-ism is a serious thing!" Cal sneezed again. "How would you feel if I did that zombie-shuffle up to you and cracked your skull open? Zombies are too serious." A chair blew past the pair, borne along by the wind. "I don't want to be a zombie."

"Fine. You are merely a deceased, drowned, ill rat."

"That's me!" His smile was carrying over the wave-length, but it wasn't infectious. "Not sure how I can be sick and dead at the same time, but that's definitely me." Thunder seemed to shake the road and all the surroundings. Its terrific burst of lightning, which had happened moments before, illuminated something moving.

"Madison. On your 10." Cal's partner, Madison, turned to her left and directed her flashlight towards what Cal had seen, not that the light did much good in the driving rain. Forced to approach the blob in the dark, she didn't even bother trying to muffle her footsteps--Cal was right; it was hard to even hear her own thoughts.

"It is a car. One of the expensive types without a roof."

"A convertible? Who in their right mind drives one of those things in this?"

"They are not driving it." It took another few steps to bring her to the car, and she looked in where the roof would be. "Target."

Cal sneezed. "Status?"

"Checking..." She prodded the figure with her flashlight. It turned on her, squinting in the harsh beam of light, gusting wind, and painful rain. "Status: alpha. Extracting him now." She forced open the convertible's door and held out a hand for the drenched man. He brushed past it and got out from the car on his own accord. Madison saw his mouth moving, but she couldn't hear a word he was saying. She was forced to put her helmet next to his mouth, and even then, she could barely understand what he was shouting.

"Who're you?"

"What's he saying?" Cal was listening in over the comm-line.

"Relief team."

"What?!" It would have been almost comical, the pair of them, if they weren't actively trying to survive.

"Relief team!"

Cal sneezed. "Haul-your-butt-out-of-the-rain team is more like it."

"Relief team?! You're a relief team?!"

"Yes, sir!" Another sneeze.

"What?!"

"Is he deaf?"

"We are a relief team, sir!" They were standing right next to each other, shouting at the top of their lungs, and were still barely heard."

"Get me outta here then!"

"Pardon?!"

"I said, get me outta here!" His arms were waving behind him, as though the motion would help him shout louder. Not that anyone could rival the volume of the thunder.

"Well, that's rude." Not a sneeze this time, but a sniffle. "I've caught something, I think."

"Follow me, sir!"

"Follow you?!" In response to the barely-heard question, Madison walked away. The visibly shivering man quickly caught on and followed.

"Cal, are you yet in possession of our extra communications line?"

"Yeah, 'course. You want to give it to deaf corvette-man?"

"It would be more practical than shouting at him for the remainder of this expedition." The unknown figure was to Madison's right, and when she looked at him, he appeared to be talking. A terrific flash of lightning lit the darkened sky, casting a hellish light upon the already ghastly setting. The man froze, staring at where Cal was. Madison could understand his reaction--her partner was rather large, and given the lighting... The man shouted something, which the storm drowned out completely until he leaned into his rescuer's helmet once more.

"Who's that?!"

"Who, me?" Cal as always, acting as a third party.

"My partner! He will entrust upon you a communications line!"

"Entrust me a what?!"

"Corvette has *got* to be deaf, if he couldn't hear that." Yet another sneeze exploded over the comm-line.

"A communications line!" The man nodded his head in eventual understanding. In a normal voice, she addressed her partner. "Assigning shortened names already, Cal?"

"Why, of course. It's my duty as honorary drowned rat to vocally voice my thoughts." The soaked pair reached the more soaked, oft-sneezing, Cal. He immediately held out the extra comm-line--which was drenched and slippery within seconds--to the young man, who took it and put it on willingly. Another burst of lightning struck, this time bringing down something, possibly a tree, roughly a half-kilometer down the street.

"This thing on?" Why did no-one ever seem to trust that the line was active?

"Yeah Corvette, it's on."

"Corvette? Like the ancient car?" At last, his tone of voice was able to be heard. It was one of indignity. "Baby's an Owl, not a C-Corvette. She's m-much better than any of those old things." The fellow's shivering was now evident.

"Dude, I get that the car is important to you, but you're stuck in the middle of the storm of the century, and you are worried about a car type?" He sneezed, this one sounding throatier than the others, before continuing. "Man, I understand--really, I do--but now's not the time."

"But she's not a C-Corvette!" His protest went ignored.

"We must get you to a station, so follow." Cal and Madison began walking at the same moment, a testament to the intense training regime they had undergone. Car man followed after less than a second's hesitation. A gust of wind promptly knocked him down into the flooding water of the street.

"Shit! Hey, give me a hand here!" Presumably, he held out a hand to one of his rescuers.

"Please." The look that the fallen man shot Cal was easily imagined. Madison was the one to pull him to his feet. He did not so much as say 'thank you' to the woman.

"You are welcome." They resumed their walking--now on the sidewalk--and there were only the sounds of the raging storm to be heard for a few moments. The rain was thunderous, the wind was thunderous, and the thunder was thunderous. Dark blue clouds were swirling overhead in a mad torrent, and the trio, in order to walk, were forced to practically bend double. A desk hurdled by, looking for all the world as though it were one of those ancient Olympic sprinters. It snagged on something to their left, and Madison was required as part of her duty to check what the snag was.

"Target."

"What's the lady mean by 't-target'?"

Cal didn't answer, momentarily all business. "Status report." She knelt and shined her flashlight on it.

"Delta."

"D-delta? What's that s-supposed to be?"

Cal sneezed. "You must not be from around here, if you don't know the codes. Delta stands for enemy militia, deceased."

"Dead? He's d-dead?"

"*She* is perished, and we are not able to bring her with us. It is much too difficult to transport a cadaver, although it is morally correct to return the departed to their families."

Cal sniffled, then cleared his throat. "Let's go. Can't dwell on that now. Besides, she's a Fraccy. Come on."

"It would be virtuous to return her, to allow her relations to learn of what has become of her. No child--even one of the ungrateful Fractionists'--is deserving of being forgotten."

"Come on!" Madison startled. "I'm still cold, I'm still wet, I'm still sick, and I'm pretty sure I'm still a rat. We were fighting against them yesterday, and we don't have time for remorse now, so hurry up!" She hesitated, but took the lead again after a moment.

"You guys were f-fighting against them yesterday?" A triumphant tone lit his voice. "I knew you d-didn't look like relief! You're too military. How'd it t-turn out? Did you lot g-get rid of those ungrateful, g-good-for-nothing twits? 'C-cause, you know, I've been a loyal Declinist citizen all my life. Don't want to get j-jumped by one of those Fraccers."

"We were deployed to save civilians, not to massacre rebels. Salvaging rebels is preferred over murder. Homicide should only be fallen to lastly." Madison's feminine voice was practically lost even through the comm-line. Corvette ducked a branch as best as he could in the whipping wind. "The bereavement of living souls should never exist as a solution."

"Right." He drew the word out. "But you s-still got rid of 'em, right? I betcha big man o'er there t-took them out by the troop-load!" He imitated the sounds of rapid fire gun, and the partners barely had to think before they could imagine his motions. Cal sneezed, seemingly aggressively, at him. Madison spoke before Cal could.

"*That* is not how our joint governments work. My partner and I were retrieving as many innocent civilians as possible from the localized war-zone. We were attempting to save their lives, for any conflict should never utilize civilians. Any unpleasant incidents which may have occurred were purely in self-defense."

"Don't lighten it, Madison." If anything, Cal sounded annoyed. Corvette noted this with interest. "You know exactly what we were there for." A vicious crack of thunder drowned out anything Cal may have said next.

"Why were you really there, if n-not for being all heroic and s-saving people and stuff? Seems like a helluva p-purpose to me. I mean, s-saving people is heroic shit."

"It's classified." Cal spoke quickly, too quickly.

"No, it is not." Madison shot her partner a look in the dark. "It was too public an operation to be kept subliminal." Someone stumbled in the dark on crushed and fallen rubble, but quickly managed to regain their footing.

"Subliminal?.. right. Okay. So, then what'd you guys d-do?"

"I'm sure you can hear about it from someone else."

"Or, we could tell him."  Neither said anymore via comm-line, and the argument was left.

Corvette began to think, but the noise was overwhelming, and the road had become a river. Vast torrents of water were rushing down the street, overflowing the gutters, and were not contained by the raised sidewalks on either side. Walking in this, now, even on the sidewalk, was like wading up a waterfall. Wind was whipping any remaining trees, lashing them into submission whilst their leaves fled from their branched cages like demons unleashed. Cal grabbed Corvette's arm, making sure that the partners would not lose the civilian in this elemental chaos. The civilian in question huddled closer to Cal, trying to get any heat or shelter from the big man as he could. Cal wasn't in a better state than the civilian, though. Corvette continued thinking, attempting to recall any local news that he heard in passing in the last few days. The rain was driving, hitting angrily at anything in its path. Lighting was obliterating all it hit. The water struck, harder, and harder, and harder. Corvette brought his hands up to shield his face. It was pinging off of the partners' standard-issue helmets, bouncing farther and farther from the initial landing place. The noise changed, and the partners looked into the disaster of a sky above them.

It began to hail.

Corvette staggered under the sudden weight of Cal's arm, who had hunched over to cover the civilian. Madison walked faster, now fighting not only against the flood, the wind, and flying objects, but also against hail. Lightning struck overhead, the particles reflecting off the driving ice in mirrors of madness. Madison pulled a device from her belt and began tapping at it. Hail hit their bodies--already cold and miserable--as if it were trying to finish them. Corvette's whimper carried through the channel, and he stumbled. Cal caught him before he could fall. Corvette continued thinking.

"What's our ETA?"

"One block. At present I lack the ability to estimate time with accuracy." Something hit Madison's helmet with enough force to send her backwards into Cal and the unfortunate civilian, and her device nearly went flying from her grip. She regained her footing before Cal could lose his balance. Shaking her head to clear it, Madison immediately took point once more and kept tapping on her device.

"Can you contact Charlie base?"

"I have been trying." She slapped the device with an open palm. "The storm is preventing us from communicating with the local base."

"Great." Lightning hit a leafless tree covered with hail, sending the little ice-balls--now freezing rain--flying like shrapnel from the war's grenades. "Who's *brilliant* idea was it to send us out on this during the storm?!"

"It was the ease of convenience, Cal." Somehow, despite the weather, and despite the pain of the hail, Madison was remaining impassive. "We were near to this location already."

"C-Cal? That's your name?" Corvette was shuddering, shivering, beneath Cal's arm. "Cal of Zeteo in Aries s-sector, Cal?"

"There are other Cals, but yeah, that's me."

"Wait! So, Madison is Madison of Harpazo in L-Libra s-sector?"

"I am."

"Wow." Corvette dared not poke his head out from Cal's arm. "I was r-rescued by the Legion."

"The Legion?"

"Yeah! Us civvies c-call you t-two the Legion, 'cause we k-keep hearing f-from soldiers that you t-two are as good as 1000 Fraccys!" The hail was shattering once it hit the ground, sending shredding shrapnel to attack their feet. "On r-recruitment posters, they put a p-picture of you in your armor l-looking heroic as fuck."

"They've got a picture of *us* on recruitment posters?"

"Yeah! You two s-stand next to each other, weapons held out, on t-top of a hill. Behind you is an awesome c-city. You're saving the civvies and the s-soldiers from those murderous bastards, proving that the governments can work together!" For a moment, the ice was flying perpendicular to the ground, hitting the group head-on. "And you look heroic as shit."

"We aren't... heroic, kid. We're--just soldiers."

"Soldiers who are the face of the w-war! You guys are, like, the b-best out there!"

"No." A sneeze. "We're not."

"We are very skilled Cal. Why could we not be the best?"

"Madison!" It was the second time he had raised his voice. Madison didn't react. "We just do our duty and *happen* to survive. It's just luck, that's all."

"Is this a r-running argument?" Corvette went unanswered.

"There must be skill and a certain finesse required to successfully utilize that luck."

"I'll t-take that as a y-yes. Wow. The L-legion argues!"

"Some skill, sure, but we've just been doing our duty. We aren't the... what did you call us Corvette?"

"Face of the w-war, sir C-Cal, sir!" The baleful clouds turned black after lightning.

"Drop the sirs, Corvette. You aren't enlisted. We aren't the face of the war. We're just among the guys that survive."

"We are among those who rescue comrades, and we are among those who save civilians." They all kept walking, huddled close, being warmed by the argument. "We are among those who fight for the fallen, and we are among those who preserve lives." The hail kept hitting, harder, and harder, and harder. The wind brought it faster. "We are among those who have survived, Cal, and those who have endured are among the best." Hellish ice pinged off of Cal, and he flinched. Corvette moved with him. "Tell me why we could not be supreme?"

"Why?" He would have stopped, had they not been in the middle of that storm of comet-like hail. "Because, *Madison*, people are still dying. Our comrades fall left and right, and never get acknowledged. They've given their lives, and for what? For what? Tell me, why are we idolized, when *they* are the heroes? We've only followed orders. They've died for them."

"The Legion's C-Cal is yelling at his p-partner! My f-friends aren't going t-to believe this."

"The civilian agrees with me. You could hear it in his voice, if you were to listen." The frozen drops sparkled in the lightning, twirling like the derangement inside a lunatic's head.

Cal sneezed, then sighed. "How many times have we fought about this by now? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?"

"Numbers do not proceed in that sequence." The roof of a nearby building caved in, beaten down by the incessant hail and wild winds. No screams of terror of pain carried to the group. "Perhaps seventeen times."

"Seventeen times. Huh. You would've thought we'd have gotten over this by now. We aren't heroes. We're just soldiers."

"We are argumentative ones, no less." Without fail, without doubt, the storm hit harder than either's words. "We are soldiers, but we are also the finest. We deserve the recognition--before you can say it, allow me to query you about how many times we have risked ourselves to return to our fallen comrades. We could have died as they had--"

"That's why we're just lucky. Ridiculously, insanely, lucky. We just happened to get out of all those death pits. Try finding a motive other than pure and simple self-preservation behind that. There isn't one." The wind practically drowned out his last few words.

"No. One does not exist. Nevertheless, allow me to argue that we retained our lives in those situations in order to protect others' another day."

"In order to follow orders another day, you mean."

"Our orders protect."

"Our superiors don't know a good order when it slaps them in the face."

"Our superiors see further than we do. They have ships and communications, not merely dubious intelligence reaped via the covert hearkening of localized colloquy amongst perturbed denizens." The storm continued to endeavor to kill the three, and there was a momentary pause as the men attempted to translate what she had said.

"C-Couldn't miss Madison have said that in like, three words?"

"She's from Harpazo, kid. They don't speak right when they're from there. Not to mention she's a Fidelitist."

"We speak considerably better than any of you moldy dolphins. Harpazo was the literary world of my government, and better than the one of yours. Had any child of my homeplanet not learned its languages properly, it would have been likened as a defect by our communities."

"And that's why no one cared when the place got liquified. They were all so stuffy."

"Will you dare to blame the destruction of my home on poor orders as well, Cal?"

"Yes!.. but I don't think I should dig myself that hole." A colossal sneeze came through the comm-line, and he sniffled for a moment before continuing. "I've got enough Fraccy mines to deal with without needing to worry 'bout yours, too."

"Wow. C-Cal's really good. My friends b-back home aren't going t-to believe this."

"Civilian, this is not your confabulation."

"I love that word. Confabulation. It's so fun to say. And, kid," the playful tone left his voice, "that's her way of saying shut up." Corvette whimpered through the comm-line, and Cal sighed. "Sorry Corvy. We've been out here a few hours. This monster of a storm got on our nerves when we received these damned orders--don't argue against it Madison." He sighed again. "How far out are we?"

"Charlie base should be immediately in front of us."

"I think I see it!"

"Where?.. Oh! Little blinking red light?" Madison moved to the light Cal was now pointing at--a local and archaic security system beacon--and swiped her device across the top of it. She was forced to swipe it a multitude of times before it read due to the hail that had piled up. Eventually, the light turned a brilliant green, so foreign in the storm. The soldier fiddled with something on the beacon, and with basic technology from the two centuries previous, a door recessed into a now-illuminated wall.

"Old-fashioned, stormproof, rocket resistant doors. You've just gotta love 'em. They stop arguments cold."

"Please come in and close the door, sir!" A man in relief garb minus the helmet was being pelted with hail just inside the open entrance, and for all the planets did not appear to be enjoying it. The trio obliged immediately, and the modified hydraulics of the base designated 'Charlie' forced the door shut fluidly. With the doors clamped closed it was as though the raging storm did not exist. There was quiet. A few bystanders camped out within the base's foyer stared openly at the drenched and dripping trio, taking any entertainment from their plight that they could.

"R. Delta Prime reporting with target." Officially, Madison was of a higher rank than her partner. It only came into play, however, in these situations.

"Yes, sir! Target's name, please." The base's door-man whipped out a device of the same making as Madison's, his hand poised to take the information. Corvette said nothing. Cal elbowed the now evidently younger man in the back.

"M-me? Oh. K-Kilbourne, Jason." Corvette's--Jason's--lips were slightly blue, his face wan. He looked to be of roughly tertiary age. The officer took note of this, and made a subtle hand gestured. Another man, this time a civilian, came with a blanket, put it on Kilbourne, and left down a hall.

"Place of citizenship, please." Jason held the blanket tightly.

"Um, N-New Ontario, S-satellite three of Athanatos, T-Taurus s-sector." The officer tapped this in with a flourish, then put his device back onto his belt.

"Alright Mr. Kilbourne. If you go with Private Mendez, she will set you up with all necessities." Corvette stood silent, shaking, nothing like the person he was when he was warm. "Mr. Kilbourne?" The Private arrived. Jason said nothing, staring blankly.

"He's a bit shaken up, if you hadn't noticed." Cal sneezed, then continued. "We found him maybe twenty minutes ago in his car, already soaked. He was a bit more fiery then, though. The hail sapped his energy. Not to mention, the kid's three sectors from home." Cal slapped the civilian gently on the back, snapping him out of his daydream. "Go with the Private, Corvette." The shaking man looked up into his own reflection off the helmet. "Get some coffee or something." He gave the younger man a slight push. Obligingly, the now subdued college-aged Jason stumbled to Mendez, who took his arm and led him down the same passage the civilian with the blanket had taken. His only farewell was a slight wave before he disappeared. Madison took control.

"My colleague bespoke of coffee. Perchance this base is in possession of any?"

The door man blinked at her odd choice of words, then noted the marking on her helmet. "Yes, ma'am. Through the door on the left is the mess hall. There should be some there."

"How 'bout an extra coat? Have one of those here, too?" Cal gestured to his drenched self. "I gave mine to a kid a while ago." Cal sneezed again, and the base man eyeballed Cal's shivering form, then nodded his head.

"Off the mess hall, there is a trading closet, sir. No-one would notice if you took one from there. Also, the current meal is soup of some flavor. It may do your cough good, sir."

"You know, for some nothing base on a backwater planet in a nobody sector, you're not doing half-bad for yourselves."

"Thank you, sir?"

"You're welcome. This way, you said, right?"

"Come, Cal. You lack the need to inquire that. Follow me as you have been, and the path will be blazoned for you." Madison held the left door for her bulky comrade, and followed him after he went through it. "And, for the record, you do bear a resemblance to a drowned rat." She took off her helmet, and he followed suit, tucking it under his arm.

"I think I'm more of a snowman now."

"How would you know the image of a snowman when you originate from a temperate planet?" The mess hall was as easy to find as it always was in a Declinist base.

"Images, Maddy. That is kinda what the holograms are for, ya know?" He set his helmet on the nearest table with a thunk. It attracted little attention from the few in the well-lit room.

"We always made use of our holograms for educational and political purposes, not for the pleasure of entertainment." She put her own helmet on the table, delicately. They were nearly identical sitting next to each other, save for the logos emblazoned on their sides.

"And that's why we all broke up. Your lot was too boring and *rigid.*" One helmet--Madison's--had a blue eagle, wings spread, soaring into the night sky while clutching a raised sword and an unraveling scroll.

"Yet it was your splitting from us which prompted hostilities. You inadvertently allowed the self-proclaimed Liberators to seize their place." The other had a dolphin, oddly a pale green, jumping from a hollow triangle as though it were trying to leave its frame.

"Maybe, but there was going to be a war with or without the Fraccys. That's non-negotiable. Can you imagine if we had to fight each other instead?"

"I am able to. Everyone would have suffered."

"What's sad, is that it wouldn't even be a first for history, you know? It seems like humanity just wants to kill itself." On the farthest wall, there was a mural done in green, blue, and yellow. It was this that the partners rested their eyes upon.

"War after war. That is our history, Cal. Yet we survive. One day, perhaps when this is at its terminus, there will be peace for a time." It was of the Earth, the first planet of humanity. The coffee was in front.

Cal sneezed, sniffled, and cleared his throat. "That day's still a *long* time coming."