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[fanfic] the world is not enough, chapter two
Author: hermonthis
Fandom: Storm Hawks
Title: The World Is Not Enough
Genre: general
Rating: PG-13

Summary: It is how the world turns. It is the way of life. Friendships are struck, couples fall in love, and alliances are tested and broken. All good war stories know that.

The World Is Not Enough

Chapter Two: The History of the World, My Love


(The history of the world can be a cruel thing.)


She stood there on her throne, silent and calculating, as her champion ran an internal dialogue with himself over his constant failure to follow her orders to plan. He had been a good servant, had he not? He had served Cyclonia for a little over ten years, and his empress for a little less than two. He had shown her father what it meant to be a traitor, to forsake your comrades and your teachers for power and pride, and now his worth was slowly dwindling down to nothing more than a name and a blunt blade. He had been here much longer than she had, and it cut him deeply to know that she did not place the same amount of trust in him that her predecessor once did. Not anymore.

Dark Ace kept his eyes to the ground and resisted the urge to tilt his head up and face his Master in the eye. He would only find what he sought out – disappointment and frustration – he would find it reflected easily in her violet eyes. No amount of excuses could save his former reputation, the once feared commander of the Talons, not after one tallied up his losses against the young upstart of a Storm Hawk. He couldn’t grasp how an inexperienced brat with no title, no name, and no legitimate connection to the Sky Council could defeat him so easily. Then again, Dark Ace was never one for strict codes of conduct and honour was something that no pen-pushing idiot could bestow upon someone. What he wanted was respect, and no official-looking certificate granted you that; you had to earn it.

But this? His latest assignment made him grind his teeth in more ways than one. Never did he imagine his master have so little faith in him as to allocate him the job of reconnaissance. It was not in his job description, it was not in his nature to skulk around shrubs and bushes and spy on ignorant civilians with binoculars in hand. It was the basest of all missions, it was pure humiliation.

But of course, he could never say that to her. He could barely register his anger on his face lest he rouse her suspicion, and so Dark Ace struggled, both physically and mentally, to regain control over his emotions before facing her again. His inability to accept this new assignment immediately had already given him away, and as her champion and a Talon, he had to obey.

“Yes, master,” he responded. His voice issued the words, but his lips were cracking under the weight of this breach of trust. Satisfied with his choice, the Empress of Cyclonia nodded her head, her violet eyes sparkling like malevolent diamonds in the darkness of her hood, and she turned her head to dismiss him.

“You will leave immediately.”



(The history of the world is a confusing thing.)


On board the condor, Stork dozed at the helm, his long legs propped up on a nearby chair as he reclined in his seat, one hand hanging by his side, the other resting on the open book upon his lap. His left eye twitched occasionally, and it was with the morning rays of dawn did he finally decide to open one suspicious eye towards the horizon. Clouds of twilight, with their dark shades of dusky blue and grey, gave way to the incoming light of the sun, and it was with this warm, ethereal sight that the Condor was greeted by the new day.

“Morning.”

Alarmed by the sudden intrusion, the pilot jumped in his seat and swiveled the chair around to face Piper. Yawning and wiping the sleep from her eyes, the sole female Storm Hawk smiled and made her way over to the table where the ship’s maps were located.

“Morning,” he replied reluctantly, relieved his poor nerves could settle on a lower degree of paranoia. No one knew the dangers lurking in all the nooks and crannies of the world like a Merb did, and he happened to be an expert on them. There were mindworms everywhere, and if he didn’t practice vigilance, it could mean his doom. The sound of crackling paper reached his sensitive ears – ah, Piper was unrolling the maps now.

“What do you want for breakfast, Stork?”

“Sandcakes.”

Slowly, the Condor emerged from her slumber and one-by-one, the crew of the Storm Hawks woke up and greeted their pilot in the same manner. And just like Piper before them, Stork suffered a minor heart attack when they managed to surprise him. Today, it was Finn.

He should have known. With his face drawn into a disapproving scowl and his fingers twitch spastically by his sides, the Merb eyed the blond with unconcealed contempt. One simply does not creep upon on an unsuspecting victim and launch a physical attack on their person! Think of the bacteria, think of the germs! Finn could have contracted some unknown viral strain from a carnivorous plant and now it had developed a liking for susceptible, nubile minds like theirs and before lunch came around, they could all be cocooned in strange pods resembling Venus Flytraps! To his right, Piper rolled her eyes upward when Finn’s snickered. So immature. It was at this time that their leader decided to make his presence known. Leaning against the doorway, Aerrow exercised his diplomatic skills upon his squadron.

“It’s okay, Stork, I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, sure.” And their pilot turned his attention back to the helm.

“Finn, apologize. Say you’re sorry.”

“You’re sorry.”

“FINN!”

That morning, after a breakfast consisting of pancakes (Sorry Stork, she admitted with embarrassment, I don’t have all the ingredients, so we’ll have them next week), maple syrup, and copious amounts of butter on Junko’s behalf, Piper sighed at the small pile of dishes in the sink. Of course the boys forgot to do their share of the chores yesterday, why was she not surprised? Grabbing a fresh dishcloth and tying a dirty apron around her waist to prevent her cloth from getting soiled, she prepared herself for the attack on caked grime.

After she set the first two plates aside, she was pleasant surprised when someone purpose bumped her at the hip; she turned her head upwards and Aerrow’s bright red hair greeted her.

“Hey.” Smiling, he grabbed another apron and tied it around his waist, just like she did. Rolling up his sleeves, he nudged Piper over to one side of the sink with his hips, and she eyed him with amusement. Her eyes were laughing, but she kept her voice serious.

“Tell me - what do you think you’re doing?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Doing the dishes.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

At her order, and mostly to make up to Piper for the boy’s neglect of everyday duties, he passed the clean dishtowel to her and her dry the glasses, plates, and cutlery out of the corner of his eyes. Aerrow scrubbed with the abrasive part of the sponge, muttering a little in his head at the resilience of day-old porridge caked onto ceramic bowls, and shrugged noncommittally when Piper placed her hands on her hips and gave him her best disciplinarian look – included with a smug little smile.

See? I told you so.

A little bell rang in his head and Aerrow shook his head, completely amused. Yes, Mom. I’ll remember to listen to you next time.

Junko pressed his fingertips together and asked the group gathered at the table. “Where are we going now?”

“I got a call from Starling saying that she wants to meet us on Terra Blizzaris, but she couldn’t say what she wanted to meet us for.” Stork decided to voice his opinion on the matter, and pointed a finger up at the ceiling; his face strangely alit with the prospect of evitable torture and pain.

“It could be… DOOM.”

Aerrow shook his head. “I don’t think so, she didn’t sound worried. I think she just wants to talk.” Tracing the compass lines Piper drew on one of the maps, he turned to his navigator and asked if there was a faster route to their next location. She shook her head – negative. Taking into consideration their need for personal supplies on board the Condor, it was better to restock now than to do it later. After all, Starling didn’t call on them unless she had some plan in mind.

“Okay then, I’ve made my decision. We’ll get supplies first, and then head to Blizzaris right away.” Finn and Junko threw their hands in the air, Piper brought her hands to her mouth and tried to suppress her delight over seeing her idols, and the only concession to the squadron’s latest mission was a twitch of the eye and a light, weary sigh. No sign of cheating death today, O Fearless One?

The Sky Knight threw a hand over his shoulders in order to cheer him up. It wasn’t going to be that bad, really. They’ll make sure to have more Furnace Crystals to heat up the Condor on the way. Besides, it wasn’t so cold once you get used to it! The Merb’s face was as impassive as a stone, and his lips uttered the repetitive spell of ultimate disaster.

“We’re all gonna die.”


(And with so many stories to tell and so many people weaving their way around each other- You hold my hand, dear, and you whisper to me in the dark. And you say- )


While the Storm Hawks were preparing their journey to meet their friends, Dark Ace was preparing to leave Cyclonia without saying farewell to his. Choosing a single duffel bag to pack his essentials, he scowled towards the door of his private quarters, directing his hate towards anything that reminded him of his mission, before removing his headgear and stripping off his shirt.

Reconnaissance on Terra Greemus. How bloody fantastic. What was he going to do there? Watch ducks? According to Master Cyclonis, he was create a log on the shipping companies that docked there, and send a detailed list to her that labeled all the major imports, the rules of engagement, the illegal exchanges made under the table. In order to do so, he would have to shed all his previous connections to the Talons and introduce himself as a stranger to the terra, and hope to be hired by one of the operating companies. He was to remain there until he was given orders to do otherwise.

In Layman’s terms, all Dark Ace had to do was sit and wait and scribble notes. What a waste of talent, and what a waste of time. Couldn’t she assign some other poor sop, some bumbling low-level Talons to take his place? And why him? Why just the Dark Ace? Throwing a blue shirt into the bag carelessly, he seethed with anger and thought of a hundred tiny little insults he could have thrown at his empress for making him feel so unworthy to her cause.

What did that terra have that was of such high interest to Master Cyclonis?

To his comfort, there was one thing about this whole situation that satisfied him, even to a small degree. The ruler of Cyclonia explicitly informed him that she would not divulge the details of his mission, or his whereabouts to the other commanders and to the other squadrons. This assignment was his alone, and it was his responsibility to see it through. He didn’t have to worry about covering his ass while he was away, she would take care of that matter herself – personally. Now, a little part of Dark Ace’s thought warned him against such politically-neutral words like that, but against all odds, whatever bitter feelings he currently harboured for his mistress, he still retained a deep respect for her and her decisions. He was still her champion, and he would make sure that his new situation, no matter how base it might be, would serve her grand purpose in life.

Someone knocked on the door, and the familiar voice of Ravess called out to him. He didn’t bother opening the door for her, and she knew him well enough to speak to him without feeling insulted.

“Hey, thought you might know that Snipe is having one of his challenges again.”

“Tell him I’m not interested.” There was a thump, and he knew that she was leaning against the door. Ravess laughed.

“He said that he wanted you to be there.” Although she didn’t see it, she knew he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Shrugging her shoulders, the woman wondered what the deal was with men and their inability to communicate properly with other people, especially in the military.

“Oh did he? Did Snipe say that, or are you just making that up?”

“I made it up.”

“Figures.”

“But he still wants to fight you.”

Throwing another set of blue shirts and tight pants onto the bed, Dark Ace scratched his neck in boredom. Under normal circumstances, he might have welcomed the idiot’s contest of brute strength and skill, and under normal circumstances, he probably would have won. But as fate would have it, Snipe’s friendly challenge would have to wait for another day and his fellow commander would have to find someone else to play with. He had problems of his own. Opening the door halfway, he blocked the majority of the hallway to prevent Ravess from seeing too much of his disheveled quarters, and ran a hand through his black hair.

“So?” Was he going to show off his superior fighting ability or what?

“Snipe can wait all he wants, but I’m not taking the offer.”


(The world is a beautiful thing, my love. It still is a beautiful thing.)


She bit her lip when he massaged he took one of her hands, and she stared at it as if the appendage was no longer attached to her, but part of a disembodied self. She held her breath – and gasped – when he started to stroke the back of her hand. Holding her wrist lighting with one hand, he pressed the flesh of his fingertips against hers, and she could feel the light pressure on her skin, and felt all the blood drain from her arm. Instead of pressing her palm up to his, which she was sure he expected next, it curled into itself as she tried to shy away from his touch.

In her defense, she was both flattered and scared. It didn’t take wobbly knees or the lump in her throat to confirm that, she knew it in her mind from the moment he asked to talk to her alone that afternoon. A little bell had gone off in her head when he started to blush, and she wasn’t entirely sure of his intentions.

No, that wasn’t it. She knew what his intentions were, and he was approaching her in the best way that he knew how, but he left the decision up to her. He wasn’t going to force her into anything; that wasn’t his way, but everything that he was doing now – everything that he was saying with those desperately hopeful eyes, said to her that he had felt this way for a long time.

“What do you think, Sappho?” Jay’s voice broke slightly and he cleared his throat in hopes to make his nervousness less evident. “Will you have me?”

Her brain, if there ever was such a thing, was pulled into all sorts of different directions like a candy maker was pulling a large batch of toffee – stretching and thinning and expanding – and Sappho felt very lightheaded and dizzy.

“Sappho?”

She blinked. Honestly, what could she say?

She was a Storm Hawk and he was her squadron leader. They had met on board the Condor, when the Sky Council accepted her appeal to transfer to another team. She missed her old teammates, and for a week beforehand she sulked, childlike, in her room and firmly set her mind to the belief that the Storm Hawks weren’t all that brave and honourable as everyone claimed they were. Of course, she was wrong when the date of transfer came and against her previous convictions, she had cried and hugged each of her team members, her family, before the Storm Hawks came to retrieve her.

Sappho wasn’t sure what to expect, perhaps a full-view of the Condor and an informal ceremony of the entire squadron running up on their skimmers to greet her in the hangar. It would have been highly embarrassing to meet her new teammates with red eyes and a snotty nose. To her surprise, only one person was sent to accompany her to her new home and that person was Jay.

And now – and now two years after her initiation, they were alone in the main area of the Condor, no doubt due to some manipulation on his part, and he was making his feelings known to her. She stared at him, analyzing his face and all of his features with a fervor that she hadn’t possessed before, and Jay visibly winced under her scrutinizing eyes.

His left eyebrow, it always had this weird way of being higher than the other, creating the illusion that he was always curious or amused by something. And there, his eyelashes. They were short and uncurled and it always intrigued her how they were a dark brown when his hair was so red.

His chin, his lips, his mouth. The curve of his ear. Her violet eyes traveled the length of his face and the more she studied, the more she noticed. He had freckles just underneath the corners of his eyes – her mouth twitched involuntarily and the corners of her lips started to turn upwards – they were a light brown colour, and if she looked close enough, they were in the shape of the Big Dipper.

Sappho stepped closer to him out of her own accord, and the air between them was sucked out by a single intake of breath on his behalf. She was standing so near, her body mere centimeters away from his chest, and she continued to stare at him with those curious yet impassively clear eyes. He blinked, his world becoming black for just a second, and he swore that in that darkness, he could still see her in front of him. If she continued this, he was sure he was going to break. Even now, he felt his heart splintering within his chest.

“Say something,” he pleaded. “Anything. Please.”

You’re going to be the end of me.

And with the utmost care, she reached up towards his face, her fingers cold and clammy and full of unrefined emotions that she wasn’t sure how to name, Sappho placed her hands on his shoulders, relying on his for support as she stood on tiptoe, and gently pressed her lips to his mouth.