Chapter 20: Out Of The Bag
Commander Sparks crept though the underbrush, weapon held high and ready. On either side of him, blended with the darkness of night, were two of his old friends of the RSTG, Sylver and Nightlash. They silently advanced together through the forest at the base of what used to be their mountain.
He wondered how it had come to all this. How they had snuck up on him and his soldiers so easily. And just when they'd come to have custody of the firs human in almost thirty years. The implications made his hide itch.
"You sure this is where he fell?" Nightlash asked from the darkness.
"Dead sure." Sylver responded. "Saw it happen through my scope."
"Can it." Sparks growled. "We go in, retrieve the body and get out. No telling how long we have until they get around the mountain."
It was the best they could do at the moment. Sparks silently cursed the human who had disobeyed his orders and gone running off on his own instead. The man might be alive now, if he'd just stayed put and waited for one of his teams to escort him and his little marefriend to one of the airships.
It shouldn't have even come to that. They should have been safe and secure at their little mountain hideaway. He'd have to look into that. Only carefully vetted and cleared personnel knew of its location. Could there be a leak in his meticulously maintained and well trained group of soldiers?
Sparks didn't like to think about it. The possibility that one of his own had betrayed them. But there were other possibilities. Other ponies not directly linked to the RSTG, but worked for them. One such stallion came to the forefront of his mind. One that Princess Luna had urged him to take on as an intelligence agent. An effective one, but one who's loyalties had been questionable from the beginning.
"I'm picking up thermal on my scope." Sylver said from somewhere off to Spark's left. "Just up ahead. Looks like the poor bastard tumbled into a dry wash."
They slinked ahead, ever scanning the trees and rocks for threats. Always vigilant, always alert. Except for this one time, an unsightly blemish on his organization's otherwise stellar record.:
They cleared the trees, emerging into a relatively bare patch of land. The three of them swept the area, finding it clear of any hostiles and moved to the wash. There they found a humanoid figure, sprawled across the grass, arms and fingers curled in pain.
Nightlash walked up to the form and tapped on the strange armor, "Seems dead to me, poor guy. How we getting him out?"
Sparks let out a shuddering breath. The Princesses weren't going to be happy. The first human in nearly three decades dead on the ground.
"Rope him up and attach him to me. I'll drag him out." Sparks said. "We'll process the body at Site Bravo, then—"
"Tiran isn't dead!" a fuzzy female voice called out, seemingly from no where.
Sylver tensed and spun around, scoping the trees for threats. Sparks heard the safety of a rifle click and he turned to face Nightlash. The stallion was spooked and pointing his weapon at the still form of Tiran's body.
"That thing talked!" he exclaimed with a quaver in his voice. "Dead things don't talk!"
"Stow that weapon!" Sparks barked in a hushed tone. "I saw this in the reports, he has some kind of consciousness built into him, her name's LI, I think." Sparks wandered over to Tiran's body and crouched next to it, "Li. That is you, right?"
"Yes," came her distorted voice. When Sparks looked closer, he could see tiny speakers in the suit's helmet. "You must listen to me," she continued. "Tiran is still alive, but only just."
Sparks' head dipped, "I'm sorry... ma'am," he didn't know what else to call her, "but there's no way anypony could've survived that fall. He's dead."
"No, he's not!" she shot back at him. "He's just unconscious. I overloaded the pressure in the suit just before we hit. He may have some minor internal injuries and a case of the bends later, but that's not what I'm worried about. He received a gunshot wound to his side, he'll bleed out if you don't hurry!"
Sparks moved down Tiran's side and rolled his body over. There was indeed a small puncture in his side between the armor plates. What was more, blood was flowing out in rhythm with a pulse. However, it was quickly slowing to a trickle.
Sparks' eyes went wide, "Son of a- Nightlash!"
"Sir!"
"Break out the aid kit. I need a pressure bandage on this wound."
"Yessir."
Sparks backed away while Nightlash jumped into his work. The wound was bad, but Nightlash was good. If anypony could save the human, it would be him.
Sparks touched a small button attached to a wire on his throat, "Flyway, tell them to stow the corpse bag and prep an I.V. We're bringing back a live one."
"You're going to save him, right?" Li pleaded behind him.
Sparks turned to face her—which was weird considering he was looking at what he thought was a corpse until a moment ago, "We'll do all we can."
"Please do."
Something dug at the back of Sparks' mind, something he remembered from the report on her. "Li," he began to say, not sure where he was going with it, "from what we've gathered, you're a support program, right?"
"Correct."
"Why do you sound so much like a real..." Sparks gestured at Tiran's body while he searched for the word, "...person?"
"Brother," Li replied, adopting a knowing tone, "you don't know the half of it."
* * *
Tiran awoke in a haze. He pushed himself up and tried to piece together what had happened. He remembered falling, then the feeling of being squeezed as if in some giant's fist. His memory after that was dark and inky.
He briefly remembered the events prior to his plunge, his hand flew to his side where he had been struck by the bullet, only when it touched, he found no evidence of a wound. Then, with greater surprise, realized he wasn't even wearing his flight suit. No, as he looked down he saw that all he wore was a simple shirt and pants.
Tiran lifted his head and gazed around, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. He was surrounded on all sides by an impenetrable gray mist that seemed at once both fluid and solid. Tiran was immediately afraid. He felt fully conscious, but at the same time his body felt as if it floated in a dream.
"Li," he said with am uncertain quaver in his voice, "talk to me, what's going on?" He received no answer. "Li, you're there right?"
When he still received no answer from his companion, Tiran grasped his left arm with his right, checking it over. He recoiled as he lightly squeezed the wrist when instead of hard, unyielding metal, it gave way with soft and spongy flesh and stringy sinew.
Instead of feeling some up welling of mirth, of happiness at his arm whole once more, dread began to fill the space in Tiran's chest. Was he dead? Had he finally made that one fatal mistake that would tear him from the mortal world?
The thought of the possibility gripped Tiran with an iron vice that left him little room to breathe. In the past, he might have welcomed it, embraced it, the chance to finally lay in full rest, free from the dreary world he'd become accustomed to, from the nightmares that plagued him nightly unless he smothered them into silence with a few stiff drinks. But now, ever since the mishap, since he had been thrown into that strange land of fantasy, a new compulsion had thrust itself into his heart, a compulsion he hadn't felt in a long, long time.
The compulsion to live.
Not in the banal compulsion to simply intake sustenance to further facilitate the multiplication of cells and continued respiration, but a far more visceral, far deeper need to be with and protect those he'd come to actually care about.
A cold, frozen terror suddenly gripped Tiran with icy claws. He had to get out of here, had to escape some how. He began to run, sprinting in any direction, all directions, as fast as his legs could carry him. His bare feet made no sound as they struck the insubstantial ground, even as he felt each impact in the base of his skull.
His eyes were wild, flicking about in their sockets, looking, searching, for some exit that he was sure must present himself. All the while, he ran, his lungs never burning and his knees never aching even though he knee in his head he must have run farther and faster than he knew he could have before.
After what felt to him like hours, Tiran finally stopped, spinning around in a crazed circle. His surroundings had never changed the whole time he'd run. Even now, he couldn't be sure if he had even moved at all as his eyes met the same silver haze bearing down on him as when he had started.
"You'll not escape this place by mere mundane means," came a voice from out of the oblivion.
The scene suddenly shifted. The light grew darker, the ground grew solid and trees materialized from the ether, their boughs outlined with the silvery glow of the high moon.
Tiran cast his eyes about in search of the owner of the voice, but his breath caught in his chest as he recognized his new environment.
The soft light of the moon caressing the tropical trees and ferns. The wide, patchy clearing of dirt and rocks. A few bodies lay motionless in a rut by a jetwash-blasted part of the field, the sparse blades of grass blackened and burned. Tiran took a few involuntary steps away from the bodies, though they were already a distance from him. Up in the sky and to the east was a small ball of fire, raining detritus and twisted forms onto the forest below.
All was silent and still, as if it were all merely a snapshot of time. The more Tiran examined it, the more he believed that was exactly what it was. Even the flames of the explosion that had doomed the craft above seemed frozen as if by hot ice.
"I see that you've recognized this place." the voice said again, but this time from behind Tiran and very close.
Tiran whirled around and staggered back as he came face to face with Luna.
"The hell are you doing here?" he asked angrily, stepping away and glowering at her.
Luna began to pace a circle around him, "Observing, as is my duty."
Tiran turned with her, never letting her out of his sight, "Observing?"
"Correct." Luna stopped briefly and glanced down towards the prone figures in the dirt, then up to the glowering ball of fire in the sky. "It is my duty to guard the night and the wanton shimmers that dance in the dreams of our subjects," she casually explained.
"So," Tiran started unsure of how to proceed, "I'm not dead then. This is just a dream. You're not real."
Luna turned her head towards him, eyes glinting with amusement, "In a manner of speaking, yes. And I assure you, I am very real."
"Then what are you doing here? I'm not one of your subjects."
"No, you're not," she sniffed, "but this is just as much my realm as it is yours." She walked around the seared and simmered field, hooves picking their way among spent brass that glistened in the moonlight. "Never before have I encountered a dream or nightmare affixed so strongly on one event, obscured so heavily by the imbibing of spirits, nor one mired in such strong emotions of hate and regret. Except for perhaps one other." Tiran felt his ire deepen as she spoke.
"No shit," he spat. "It's something I'd rather forget!"
"Hmm... and yet your conscience holds tightly to it."
"It's not exactly like I have a choice."
Luna completed her circuit and stopped, fixing one baleful eye on the moon. It was in that moment that Tiran realized something as he studied the silhouette of her head an shoulders against the lunar backdrop, "You!" he said, creeping forward with an accusing finger. "That was you! That was you in my dream, wasn't it?"
He stopped with only a few scant feet separating them. Luna turned to face him, eyes blinking in feigned ignorance, "Whatever do you mean?"
Heated disbelief marred Tiran's face as he drew himself up and scowled at her, "You know what I mean! It was before I even met you, weeks before you supposedly even knew I was here, I saw you! You did know, didn't you." It was a statement.
Luna once again turned from him, but betrayed no emotion, "Perhaps."
"'Perhaps' my ass."
"Tiran, what is it you want most?"
The question took him off guard. Tiran took a step back, incredulity blossoming on his features, "What do I want? What do you mean, what do I want? I want to get the hell back home!"
Luna turned to face him again, expression grim, "Ah, but I think not."
"Oh, really?" Tiran said in a mocking tone. "Really, then what do you think I want, Princess?"
Instead of answering, Luna nodded towards the dark prone forms sleeping in the dirt, "What do you think I shall find over there?"
Tiran grimaced, his face settling into a hard mask, "Don't do that..."
"It was a fair question," Luna argued.
"And you'll get no answer."
"Very well," she sighed. "I did not need one anyhow." She swung her head towards his, drawing close to him. "You have a sickness, Tiran. One that for which there is no medicine that you can take to cure it. No draft or heady mixture will erase it, only dull it so that you may feel the symptoms enhanced.
She stepped quietly, continuing her raw and cutting lecture, "It is not healthy to seek such self destruction, least of all to yourself. What would those that cared for you feel were they to know you feel this way? What would they do if you were to cease to be of your own volition? have you considered this?"
Tiran's limbs began to shake, her words cutting to the quick. Ire and hate grew and his temper flared, battering against the cages of his conscience like a wounded animal in a trap.
"There aren't really any people that could even begin to give any shit about me back home," he said in a low tone, restraining his anger.
"I was not speaking of your own world," Luna stated.
"And who the fuck could you be talking about here?" Tiran demanded.
"Friends are friends no matter what they are or how you come by them," Luna replied. "In any case, you should not let the events of this memory stain your thoughts. The actions you took were necessary and the loss you sustained were of no fault of your own. You must forgive yourself if you are to complete your task, else you will suffer the same fate of your predecessor. Do not throw yourself away."
Tiran felt something within him break. He wanted to shout at her, to grab her and scream in her face that she didn't know shit about him and had no right to instruct him on what he should and shouldn't do with his life. But before he could act on his emotions, the scene shifted again.
Everything disappeared. The trees, the grass, the fire and the bodies, all was replaced with the same featureless wall of mist that had greeted him before. Even Luna had vanished, like a specter of long forgotten winds.
Tiran was left fuming with impotent hate, with nothing to vent it upon. He sat on the textureless ground and crossed his arms, her words echoing in his head.
* * *
The first thing Tiran was aware of was an intense pain in his kidneys. It felt like somebody was hammering needles into his back. He opened his eyes and immediately closed them to shut out the sharp burning glare. Tiran groped around for something, anything that would help him figure out where he was.
That last thing he remembered was getting shot, falling off the cliff...
Everything else was a little hazy after that.
"Li! Li, what's going on?" he called out.
'Tiran, relax,' came here soothing reply. 'You're in a safe place. Everything is fine, but you've lost a lot of blood and suffered some fractures.'
Tiran crooked his head, eyes still screwed shut. Li sounded different. More...human, some how.
"Li, are you doing ok?"
'Of course, Tiran. Never better.'
For some reason, Tiran doubted it. She was different, he could feel it. Suddenly, a lot of the things he'd been noticing about her lately were starting to make some sense. Not terribly much, but pieces felt as if they were falling into place.
Tiran heard a door burst open, scrambling his thoughts, "Mr. Tiran, you're awake!" a sweet female voice said to him. "Oh, I'm sorry, are the lights too bright? Let me just get that for you."
Tiran immediately felt the lights dim and blinked his eyes a few times. It was better, the light no longer attacked his eyes like glowing spears. He gazed around the room, taking in his new surroundings.
A mare with a paper hospital cover on her head was adjusting an I.V. that ran into his arm. She looked up and smiled at him. Tiran managed a week smile back as she finished her work and left the room.
The room itself was mostly bare. The walls were solid concrete with only one door in or out. There were no windows. A sad pile of medical supplies sat in the corner next to a waste bin. The bin was full of bloody bandages. Tiran hoped they weren't his, but the throbbing pain in his ribs told him otherwise.
"Li, what's going on?" Tiran asked, wiping a tired hand across his face.
'You tried to avoid being shot by leaping off a cliff.' she dutifully replied.
Tiran sighed, "You mean when I was shot off."
'Of course.'
"Li, where am I?"
'You are currently in the custody of Commander Sparks at a location called Site Bravo. After your retrieval, you were put in intensive care to treat your wounds.'
"Intensive care, huh?"
'Getting shot and falling nearly four hundred feet will do that to a man.'
"I guess it will!" Tiran started to chuckle, but had to stop when pain flared up in his ribs. He nearly doubled over, but forced himself back down and relaxed.
As his senses returned, Tiran noticed for the first time that he was hungry. Very hungry. He felt as if he was hungry enough to eat the same kind of crap Ruwa ate.
Tiran went rigid. Ruwa, he didn't know what had happened to her. He knew she had gotten out with Quick Fix, but anything could have happened to her after that. she could be here, that would make sense. He needed to be sure.
"Li—"
'Already on it.' she said before he could ask.
It was almost as if she'd read his mind. Half the time, Tiran could believe that she could.
A few moments later, the door to Tiran's room swung open and Sparks stepped inside, followed closely by Sylver. Tiran nodded to them both as they entered the room.
"How did you guys know to come so quickly?" was the first question out of Tiran's mouth.
"They do have radios, you know," Li supplied, speaking through her external speakers and joining the conversation.
Tiran looked and noticed that they did have tiny little wires concealed around their necks, "I guess they do," he murmured.
"How are you feeling?" Sparks asked.
"Better." Tiran replied. "Still not entirely sure how I survived."
"Neither are we," Sparks said. "But I'm pretty sure your friend there had something to do with it." He pointed a hoof at Tiran's arm.
Tiran glanced down, "Li?"
Sylver nodded, "The same. Said something about overloading the pressure in your suit. Quite a trick if you ask me."
"Yeah," Tiran wondered aloud. "I'm starting to get the feeling she has a lot of tricks up her sleeve I don't know about."
"Either way, she saved your life." Sparks stated.
"Yeah, and I'm grateful, but there's something else I need to know," Tiran said looking sternly at them. "Ruwa. She got out of there with that crazy engineer, Quick Fix. They're here, they're safe right?" he asked almost pleadingly.
Sparks and Sylver shared an uncertain look between each other. Tiran caught it, he didn't like it. To him the gesture spoke volumes of wrong. It was something he'd only seen people do if it was bad news or they—
"I'm sorry, but we don't know," Sparks admitted.
Tiran felt a spike of rage climb into his head, urging him to reach out and swing at the old unicorn, but he forced it down. "You don't know. The hell you mean you don't know!" he shouted.
"Because we don't know!" Sparks hollered back, anger and frustration blooming clearly on his face. The stallion realized quickly what he did and took a breath, calming himself. "Listen. She left with Quick Fix, hell my own son was piloting even though he should've already been gone. Where ever they are, I'm sure they're safe. Hope so..."
"They could've gone to see the Old Man." Sylver offered nonchalantly. Sparks rounded on the silvery unicorn and glared at him. "What?" Sylver shrugged. "He was probably gonna find out sooner or later."
"Old Man?" Tiran perked and sat up as straight as his injuries would allow. "You said 'Man.' I knew it!" he shouted triumphantly. "There's another one of me here! You guys have to take me to him. Now," he demanded. "I knew there was still another human here, that Luna said something about a blood test, she said it was my frigging uncle!" He was nearly slobbering at the mouth at this point. "I'm gonna get some fucking answers, and I'm gonna get them now!"
Sparks sighed and turned back around, a rumbling "Dammit" escaping out under his breath. "Alright, calm down, calm down!" Tiran leaned back at the outburst and realized what he had been doing. He slowed his breath and settled down. "But I'm going to have to fill you in on everything," Sparks continued once Tiran was calm. "Luna will probably have me skewered on a spit, but the damn cat's outta the bag. We'll get you some food first, then we'll sit down and have a chat."
"Good."
* * *
Tiran sat in his uncomfortable metal chair, sipping a hot beverage he couldn't taste over an old an worn wooden table that had a slight rock to it. Sparks and Sylver were sitting across from him, a beautiful backdrop of crisp glacial mountains printed out on a stained and torn swath of paper that had been hung on the featureless wall as if they were a joke.
The two unicorns had just finished telling Tiran the whole history of his species in their world as they knew it. A short and dour one, chased with sorrow, but enlightening as well. Tiran could still barely make heads or tales of it all, but it was progress.
"So," Tiran said, trying to process the information. "You're saying my great uncle came here more than thirty years ago, started up your group, disappeared, then one of his buddies followed him in—"
"By accident," Sparks added.
"—by accident," Tiran nodded. "And then they disappeared?"
"Well, 'disappeared' isn't quite the correct term." Sparks corrected. "Mayfield got sent back to your world by the power of the Princesses, no telling what actually happened to him. Your uncle went missing after detonating an experimental energy source trying to take down some weird cult that may or may not have been messing with his head. He's presumed dead."
"And the third?" Tiran asked.
"That would be the Old Man." Sylver said.
Sparks leaned in towards Tiran, "He was a close friend of your uncle's. A little flinty but a good guy."
"And he's still here, alive? Nearly a century after he arrived here according to my world's timeline?" Tiran was still having a hard time believing all this.
"If that's what happened, then yeah..." Sylver shrugged.
"That's another thing," Sparks said. "You still haven't answered my question about your species advancement."
Tiran looked at the stallion and raised his left arm, wiggling his fingers, "Well, if you're talking in terms of the last time a human left my world and came to yours from our point of view, quite a lot. As you can see from my arm—"
"And me," Li interjected.
"And Li, of course, we've come a long way in cybernetics and programming."
"Don't forget weapons," Sylver added. "That fancy pistol and the advanced aircraft you left in the enemy's possession," he put with an edge in his voice.
"I wouldn't worry too much about that," Tiran said with a cockiness to his tone as he leaned back in his chair. "Li locked it down before we were discovered. The only two beings capable of taking it out of lock down, much less using it, are me and her." Tiran then leaned back onto the table, switching between both Sparks' and Sylver's eyes, "By the way, exactly who are those guys? I thought RSTG members were the big bad wolves of this place."
Sylver sighed, looking dejected, "That's something we're still not so sure about. It's nothing like we've encountered before, to be honest. The first two problems we've had on this scale were at least easily tracked and clear cut, but these guys just seem to come out of no where."
"And what the hell was this all supposed to do with me?" Tiran asked.
"Well, it's usually when something like this happens that a human appears, for better or worse," Sparks said. "One that hopefully helps us fix it. Hell, your uncle founded our organization, and both of us had the privilege of serving with him."
"Yeah, too bad I'm not a freaking super soldier like my uncle or his buddies," Tiran said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"That's because you don't have to be." Sparks said.
Tiran took a sip from his drink and looked back up, "What do you mean?"
Sparks leaned his head back and scratched it with a hoof, in thought. "I've actually had conversations with Princess Luna about some theories about why you guys show up in length," he said, looking directly back at Tiran. "You see, she has a theory about you guys after examining the events of the last large scale incident. It seemed a little farfetched to me, but anything friggin' possible with you guys, apparently."
"How do you mean?"
Sparks absentmindedly scratched the back of his ear again, "It's a little hard to explain without her, but I'll try. See, there are three different races of pony here. You got your Unicorns, Pegasi and Earth Ponies. Unicorns are the most prevalent in the use of magic, having the ability to channel it through our horns," he tapped the base of his own with a hoof. "Pegasi and Earth Ponies use magic too, but in a much more limited way. Earth Ponies are much hardier and live longer, Pegasi can fly and have dominance over the weather.
"Now, there are plenty of other species throughout our world and they all use magic in some shape or form. Dragons with their fire breathing, Diamond Dogs with their tunneling abilities, Griffins through their keen eyesight. The only being, the only one we've encountered that can't use magic in some shape or form in any way is humans."
"Well, no shit." Tiran scoffed.
"Ah, but here's the kicker," Sparks said, dropping his voice low and leaning closer to Tiran over the table. "Princess Luna believes that that theory isn't necessarily accurate."
"No?"
"Oh no. She believes that while your kind can't actually use magic, you can absorb it."
Tiran wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something foul, "That doesn't make sense to me. I've been picked up and tossed by that strange crap you unicorns pull off, didn't seem to affect me any differently than anything else."
"Ah, but that's it! Normal magic, no side affects. Dark magic, on the other hoof, tends to seek you guys out like moths to a flame. There was something wrong with your uncle towards the end. Something we couldn't see, but pulled one of his friends in. We think it might have finally consumed him in the end.
"Now you're here, another link in the chain. We don't think this is some coincidence. His blood runs through you, even if not in a direct bloodline. This could mean nothing. Or it could mean—"
Tiran slammed his cup down on the table, causing both stallions to flinch away with a start. "Alright, you can cut the voodoo shit."
Sylver began to open his mouth, "Voodoo sh—?"
"Shut it!" Tiran snapped, silencing the unicorn. "The fuck you think I am, some kind of idiot?" Tiran said in a level of tone just beneath a shout, staring at them as if he could smite them through sight alone. "Dark magic, black magic, whateverthefuck, I don't care!"
"I don't think you understand," Sparks began, his tone of voice beginning to match Tiran's. "We think there might be something drawn to you humans, something that causes these symptoms of dark times that usually accompanies the arrival of your kind, bringing you here!"
Tiran slapped his palm angrily on the table's surface, his left one. The wood cracked and splintered around the edges of his hand, "No, you don't understand!" he shouted full volume. "I didn't come by choice, but nothing brought me here! I was just supposed to test the damn M-drive, fly through some kind of fucking quantum wormhole or some hocus-pocus hyper-dimensional shit, but those fucking assholes from the fucking Society for Worldly Destruction, or whatever the fuck the fucking talking heads are calling them these days got wind of it and decided to attack my fucking ship, causing me to activate the fucking M-drive and crash land me here!" shoulders hunched with pent up frustration, Tiran punctuated the end of the rant by stabbing his finger onto the abused surface of the table top.
Tiran fell back into his chair, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath after his lengthy and passionate tirade, taking in the shock on the two stallion's faces with a detached feeling. Then the words started coming back to him. Every letter, every syllable dropped from his lips. And then he realized just what he had informed them of. Namely, his aircraft's alleged ability to shift through dimensions, of which they'd had absolutely no knowledge of. Until now.
"Shhhit."
"Tiran . . ."
"Yeah, Li, I know."
"Tiran, you just divulged highly classified information."
"I said, I know, Li. Why the hell didn't you stop me!?"
"Well... you were on a roll."
Tiran blanched with irritable confusion, "Because I was on a roll? what the fuck, are you malfunctioning or something?"
Before she could answer him, Sparks recovered from his shock, a very stern and serious look to his expression, "Tiran, are you absolutely sure your species has developed this ability?"
The pilot turned to the unicorn, the manic energy that had accompanied his previous speech spent. It left a void, one that he could not quickly recoup to answer the question in any words in the way of eloquent. Instead, he shrugged and with a great and draining release of breath proclaimed; "Yeah, probably."
Sparks turned to Sylver and nodded, pushing himself up from the table, "Draw up the plans, I'll alert the Princesses."
"You got it," Sylver said with a short salute as Sparks left the room.
Tiran gestured towards the closing door, "Got what, what plans?"
Sylver eyed the human and leaned in toward the table, "Well, obviously, we need to get your aircraft back. On top of that, the Princesses need to be informed of this recent development. But first, we're going to take you to see the Old Man."
"Great," Tiran deadpanned, too tired to even argue or ask questions any more. "When do we leave?"