Post by Resonance on Sept 7, 2023 20:23:57 GMT
The Council had agreed to at least hear them out, despite the fact they’d already denied their request to hunt down TRIumph and rout them out for good. Tom and Ling prepared to do their best to persuade them, but they had little hope it would succeed. As it was, the Council still kept them waiting for another month.
In the meantime, the funerals of the soldiers lost in the last battle had come and gone. Kidarian funerals were different to the Mobian and Terran funerals Tom and Ling had been accustomed to, but no less impactful. They were bittersweet. Tears flowed constantly throughout each one, but the telling of stories and sharing of treasured moments between friends, family, and comrades brought smiles and laughter to the otherwise solemn occasions. The Takeshis were struck by the overwhelming support surrounding them, making a funeral a community experience, and one that felt deeply healing. And for each funeral, every soldier that had fought beside the fallen was there. There was no denying the bond they had all formed over the past several months.
When the Council meeting finally did take place, they kept them waiting well past their slated start time. Tom, Ling, and Harding, who had become de facto third in command, sat in the hall for hours past their start time. Finally, the clerk came to get them. “Right this way, please,” said a small opossum with her hair tied up in a bun. She hurried back in through the doors and lead them forward to the main floor.
The room was stately, with high ceilings and pews on either side of three main paths to the back of the room. Keeping to the Kidarian aesthetic of plants everywhere, several were growing in special wall fixtures, allowing their vines to tumble down towards the stonework floor. Even more were in large planters in key locations. The back of the room was where the Council sat on long raised benches that were intricately carved out of wood. A total of 7 Kidajin (mammal varieties of Kidarians) sat along the bench. The most important one was Olin Ruthdark, a racoon that was the primary speaker of the Council. Although the Council was supposed to govern together, he often took charge. The audience was made up of various government and military personnel, typically people who had an interest in what was being discussed that day.
The opossum hurried up to Ruthdark and handed him a file before she retreated to her desk at the side of the room. Ruthdark ignored it. Ling, Tom, and Harding stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the Council and waited for Ruthdark, who was absorbed in some note taking, to acknowledge them.
After a few minutes, the racoon sighed loudly and set his pencil down firmly before looking down his snout at the trio before him. “And here we have the final case of the day, Mr Takeshi seeking an audience about his request for more resources to go on a wild goose chase.”
“Major.”
“Come again?” Ruthdark raised an eyebrow at Harding.
“It’s Major Takeshi, sir. And his wife, Honorary Lieutenant Takeshi,” Harding corrected him.
“And you are?”
“Captain Harding, sir.”
Ruthdark leaned back in his chair and scowled, “unlike you, Captain, neither of these Kidajin before me have any title what-so-ever in the eyes of this Council.”
“But sir, it is customary to honour titles given… from… other…” the opossum had thoughtlessly spoken out to correct Ruthdark, because surely, he had simply forgotten protocol. But the withering look she received quickly silenced her and she went back to taking notes.
“Frankly, I should end this hearing right now, since you insist on making a mockery of this Council with your… pageantry.” He pointed his finger at Tom in particular, “why are you disgracing this space with your dyed fur and costume wings, Mr Takeshi? The utter disrespect of it.”
There were shocked murmurs behind the trio. Some of the Council members shifted uncomfortably.
The Kidajin that had immigrated to Terra generations ago had developed unique fur and eye colours, Tom was one example. While Ling maintained the classic panda fur, she was born with eyes of a vibrant green that was common amongst Terran-born Kidajin but rare amongst natives. Now that they shared one violet and one green eye each, they were even more unique. But this was a known fact. The Takeshis had been on Kidaria for several months, and there was hardly anyone in government or the military that hadn’t already gotten used to their presence. It also wasn’t that uncommon for native Kidarians to dye their fur various colours anyway (the opossum had bright chunks of pink in her otherwise grey locks). To make it an issue was surprising, to say the least.
The wings were different. Tom had finally given up on recalling them regularly, and simply kept them out. They were too useful for battle, particularly when his magic ran dry. Again, the circles they travelled in no longer batted an eye when they saw him. It had simply become normal.
Tom stepped forward slightly, unphased by the obvious goading, “sir, we would like to ask the Council to reconsider their decision to deny us the resources we need. TRIumph is a persistent threat that needs to be-“
“Yes, we’ve all read the brief,” Ruthdark cut him off. He flipped open the previously ignored file, jabbing his finger into the page when he found the paragraph he wanted. “You make very big claims about this organization you are so hell-bent on eradicating. Quite flowery text you use here: ‘brainwashing’, ‘ruthless experimentation’, ‘galactic domination’… Frankly, that’s all very hard to believe.”
Ling had been irked by Ruthdark’s jabs but easily maintained her composure. When he dismissed TRIumph, she said “it is hard to believe, but both the Major and I have had dealings with this group for decades. Every time we thought they had finally been eradicated, they found a way to survive and come back stronger.”
Tom built on Ling’s point, “it’s vital that we use the information we gathered at the facility in the Zone to track down the rest of the company and ensure Kidaria’s safety.”
Ruthdark scoffed, “I seem to recall this whole thing started with a Gate at the facility. So, answer me this, Mr Takeshi. Did you close the Gate?”
The trio already knew where this was going. “Yes, however-“
Ruthdark continued, “and the cleanup of the Zone has been going as planned?”
“Yes, and-“
“And no one who was working at that facility survived, correct?”
“Yes, but-“
“Then I don’t see what the issue is and why you need to go on this expedition to the far reaches of Kidaria hunting for ghosts.”
Tom took a breath, pausing a moment to tamp down his frustration before beginning. “What you’ve said is true: there were no survivors in the facility, the dimensional Gate was shut down, and the Zone is steadily being reclaimed. But the Gate began a chain reaction we’re still trying to understand. Portals keep opening around the Zone, allowing all kinds of things through.”
“Are you not dealing with those regularly, Mr Takeshi?” Ruthdark folded his hands in front of him.
“Yes, sir. We have been keeping the portals contained, but they’re changing, becoming more violent. From what I’ve found in the data from the facility and from my own experience, there is more going on here than just that single facility and a single Gate. It is characteristic of TRIumph to spread out. Furthermore, if the portals were just connected to the original Gate, they should be stopping all together, but they’re not. The last portal took good soldiers from us, people who fought hard to keep us safe, and we’ll lose more if we don’t get to the bottom of what’s happening.” Tom could tell some of the Council members were concerned, but none of them said anything.
Ruthdark regarded Tom for a moment. The way he saw it, Tom was someone who would not be easily deterred, but Ruthdark was certain that he would also follow whatever the Council ruled. If he really was a Major, breaking an order would be unthinkable. He leaned forward, “your report states that the portals are happening less frequently, even if the last few were more intense. The Council agrees with this trend, and we believe they’ll eventually stop appearing altogether. Until that happens, we need to keep our resources here to defend the city. Once the portals have run out, you can resubmit your petition. Until then, perhaps you should focus on keeping your soldiers alive, or we can just have you replaced. After all, it’s only by the grace of the top brass vouching for you that we even agreed to contract you in the first place.”
There was an audible sound of dismay and anger from the audience. Harding briefly glanced back to see several of their fellow soldiers had snuck into the crowd. Some of them were trying to keep the others in check.
Ling felt the shift in Tom before he spoke, “is that your final ruling, sir?” Despite his visible composure, his words had an edge to them, and Ruthdark knew he’d hit a nerve.
The racoon briefly smirked, feeling as though his job was now done, “yes, Mr Takeshi. You are dismissed.”
Tom gave the Council a slight bow for respect, turned, and marched out with Ling and Harding a step behind him at his sides. Tom kept his eyes forward, but Ling and Harding glanced over the crowd to see who all had joined them as they walked out. When they exited the Council Chamber, Tom and Ling locked eyes, an unspoken decision already made.
Ruthdark was correct, he was a Major and so he was expected to follow the rules, regardless of whether his rank came from the Kidarian military. But there was something Ruthdark didn’t know. He was also a Commander.
In the meantime, the funerals of the soldiers lost in the last battle had come and gone. Kidarian funerals were different to the Mobian and Terran funerals Tom and Ling had been accustomed to, but no less impactful. They were bittersweet. Tears flowed constantly throughout each one, but the telling of stories and sharing of treasured moments between friends, family, and comrades brought smiles and laughter to the otherwise solemn occasions. The Takeshis were struck by the overwhelming support surrounding them, making a funeral a community experience, and one that felt deeply healing. And for each funeral, every soldier that had fought beside the fallen was there. There was no denying the bond they had all formed over the past several months.
When the Council meeting finally did take place, they kept them waiting well past their slated start time. Tom, Ling, and Harding, who had become de facto third in command, sat in the hall for hours past their start time. Finally, the clerk came to get them. “Right this way, please,” said a small opossum with her hair tied up in a bun. She hurried back in through the doors and lead them forward to the main floor.
The room was stately, with high ceilings and pews on either side of three main paths to the back of the room. Keeping to the Kidarian aesthetic of plants everywhere, several were growing in special wall fixtures, allowing their vines to tumble down towards the stonework floor. Even more were in large planters in key locations. The back of the room was where the Council sat on long raised benches that were intricately carved out of wood. A total of 7 Kidajin (mammal varieties of Kidarians) sat along the bench. The most important one was Olin Ruthdark, a racoon that was the primary speaker of the Council. Although the Council was supposed to govern together, he often took charge. The audience was made up of various government and military personnel, typically people who had an interest in what was being discussed that day.
The opossum hurried up to Ruthdark and handed him a file before she retreated to her desk at the side of the room. Ruthdark ignored it. Ling, Tom, and Harding stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the Council and waited for Ruthdark, who was absorbed in some note taking, to acknowledge them.
After a few minutes, the racoon sighed loudly and set his pencil down firmly before looking down his snout at the trio before him. “And here we have the final case of the day, Mr Takeshi seeking an audience about his request for more resources to go on a wild goose chase.”
“Major.”
“Come again?” Ruthdark raised an eyebrow at Harding.
“It’s Major Takeshi, sir. And his wife, Honorary Lieutenant Takeshi,” Harding corrected him.
“And you are?”
“Captain Harding, sir.”
Ruthdark leaned back in his chair and scowled, “unlike you, Captain, neither of these Kidajin before me have any title what-so-ever in the eyes of this Council.”
“But sir, it is customary to honour titles given… from… other…” the opossum had thoughtlessly spoken out to correct Ruthdark, because surely, he had simply forgotten protocol. But the withering look she received quickly silenced her and she went back to taking notes.
“Frankly, I should end this hearing right now, since you insist on making a mockery of this Council with your… pageantry.” He pointed his finger at Tom in particular, “why are you disgracing this space with your dyed fur and costume wings, Mr Takeshi? The utter disrespect of it.”
There were shocked murmurs behind the trio. Some of the Council members shifted uncomfortably.
The Kidajin that had immigrated to Terra generations ago had developed unique fur and eye colours, Tom was one example. While Ling maintained the classic panda fur, she was born with eyes of a vibrant green that was common amongst Terran-born Kidajin but rare amongst natives. Now that they shared one violet and one green eye each, they were even more unique. But this was a known fact. The Takeshis had been on Kidaria for several months, and there was hardly anyone in government or the military that hadn’t already gotten used to their presence. It also wasn’t that uncommon for native Kidarians to dye their fur various colours anyway (the opossum had bright chunks of pink in her otherwise grey locks). To make it an issue was surprising, to say the least.
The wings were different. Tom had finally given up on recalling them regularly, and simply kept them out. They were too useful for battle, particularly when his magic ran dry. Again, the circles they travelled in no longer batted an eye when they saw him. It had simply become normal.
Tom stepped forward slightly, unphased by the obvious goading, “sir, we would like to ask the Council to reconsider their decision to deny us the resources we need. TRIumph is a persistent threat that needs to be-“
“Yes, we’ve all read the brief,” Ruthdark cut him off. He flipped open the previously ignored file, jabbing his finger into the page when he found the paragraph he wanted. “You make very big claims about this organization you are so hell-bent on eradicating. Quite flowery text you use here: ‘brainwashing’, ‘ruthless experimentation’, ‘galactic domination’… Frankly, that’s all very hard to believe.”
Ling had been irked by Ruthdark’s jabs but easily maintained her composure. When he dismissed TRIumph, she said “it is hard to believe, but both the Major and I have had dealings with this group for decades. Every time we thought they had finally been eradicated, they found a way to survive and come back stronger.”
Tom built on Ling’s point, “it’s vital that we use the information we gathered at the facility in the Zone to track down the rest of the company and ensure Kidaria’s safety.”
Ruthdark scoffed, “I seem to recall this whole thing started with a Gate at the facility. So, answer me this, Mr Takeshi. Did you close the Gate?”
The trio already knew where this was going. “Yes, however-“
Ruthdark continued, “and the cleanup of the Zone has been going as planned?”
“Yes, and-“
“And no one who was working at that facility survived, correct?”
“Yes, but-“
“Then I don’t see what the issue is and why you need to go on this expedition to the far reaches of Kidaria hunting for ghosts.”
Tom took a breath, pausing a moment to tamp down his frustration before beginning. “What you’ve said is true: there were no survivors in the facility, the dimensional Gate was shut down, and the Zone is steadily being reclaimed. But the Gate began a chain reaction we’re still trying to understand. Portals keep opening around the Zone, allowing all kinds of things through.”
“Are you not dealing with those regularly, Mr Takeshi?” Ruthdark folded his hands in front of him.
“Yes, sir. We have been keeping the portals contained, but they’re changing, becoming more violent. From what I’ve found in the data from the facility and from my own experience, there is more going on here than just that single facility and a single Gate. It is characteristic of TRIumph to spread out. Furthermore, if the portals were just connected to the original Gate, they should be stopping all together, but they’re not. The last portal took good soldiers from us, people who fought hard to keep us safe, and we’ll lose more if we don’t get to the bottom of what’s happening.” Tom could tell some of the Council members were concerned, but none of them said anything.
Ruthdark regarded Tom for a moment. The way he saw it, Tom was someone who would not be easily deterred, but Ruthdark was certain that he would also follow whatever the Council ruled. If he really was a Major, breaking an order would be unthinkable. He leaned forward, “your report states that the portals are happening less frequently, even if the last few were more intense. The Council agrees with this trend, and we believe they’ll eventually stop appearing altogether. Until that happens, we need to keep our resources here to defend the city. Once the portals have run out, you can resubmit your petition. Until then, perhaps you should focus on keeping your soldiers alive, or we can just have you replaced. After all, it’s only by the grace of the top brass vouching for you that we even agreed to contract you in the first place.”
There was an audible sound of dismay and anger from the audience. Harding briefly glanced back to see several of their fellow soldiers had snuck into the crowd. Some of them were trying to keep the others in check.
Ling felt the shift in Tom before he spoke, “is that your final ruling, sir?” Despite his visible composure, his words had an edge to them, and Ruthdark knew he’d hit a nerve.
The racoon briefly smirked, feeling as though his job was now done, “yes, Mr Takeshi. You are dismissed.”
Tom gave the Council a slight bow for respect, turned, and marched out with Ling and Harding a step behind him at his sides. Tom kept his eyes forward, but Ling and Harding glanced over the crowd to see who all had joined them as they walked out. When they exited the Council Chamber, Tom and Ling locked eyes, an unspoken decision already made.
Ruthdark was correct, he was a Major and so he was expected to follow the rules, regardless of whether his rank came from the Kidarian military. But there was something Ruthdark didn’t know. He was also a Commander.
