Chapter Text
Interview
There was an eerie sort of calm in the meeting room. It filled the emptiness with an exaggerated silence, broken only by the soft whirr of the air conditioning and the light buzz of fluorescent lights. The admins of the new and improved Team Galactic shifted uncomfortably in it, Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter set up their holodeck laptops with an unnecessary amount of typing and shuffling to hide their nervousness.
The man sitting across from them, dressed comfortably yet sharply in a pressed shirt and pants, posture perfect, fingers tented in front of him, was the source of that calm. He had always been the eye of the storm, the void at the center of chaos. His sharp blue eyes regarded the three of them hawkishly and they knew that he was taking in their every move, observing them with the uttermost patience. Just like any other predator. For all of their attempts to hide their unease, they knew that the man saw right through it.
“So…” Saturn began, but he couldn’t really find the words to say. Somehow, despite having been physically the closest to the man, he’d known the least about him and his plans. No one, not a one of them, liked any aspect of that. It had been a rough few years and he’d thought he’d healed… he hadn’t.
“Master Cyrus!” Mars interrupted, “It’s really good to see you out and about, and I’m sure that we all appreciate you taking the time to come in today!”
Jupiter nodded in agreement. “I certainly do.” Some of the old devotion returned to her eyes, a little bit of nostalgia and adoration that she entertained for a moment.
“I appreciate the interview,” said former Team Galactic Leader Cyrus, his face and voice completely expressionless – but they were used to that. Or, rather, they had been. “And what you have done with my team. I am very impressed with the projects that you’ve set in motion, and firmly believe that all of them will lead humanity into a bright future.” What they had forgotten, however, was how easy it was to project the emotion you were looking for onto him, and that created uncertainty, but still…
“I see that you’ve applied to be a researcher on…” Jupiter scrolled down, “all of them.”
“All of the ones publicly available,” Cyrus clarified, “and, of course, that extends to any projects that are not public knowledge.”
“Of course, of course.” Jupiter said, a small smile on her face.
“Hey, first question,” Mars said, trying to stay chipper, “why didn’t you let any of us know when they let you out? You know we’d have been happy to hear from you,” she gave Saturn a look that seemed to say wouldn’t we?
“Would you have… hmm.” The way Cyrus said it could have been a statement or a question. Perhaps it was both. “I didn’t want to impose upon you until I had gotten my bearings.”
“Yes, I imagine high-security prison is… disorienting,” said Jupiter, scrolling through the background check. It was done for all applicants, of course, even though they all knew what they would find.
“It is.”
Jupiter continued scrolling, reading again the arrest for ‘multinational crimes,’ the interpol report. Of course, the three of them knew far more about the man than any intern with a background checking program would ever be able to find. They’d been by his side for much of it, watched as he had committed his ‘multinational’ crimes. Universal, more like! It was only good fortune and even better diplomacy that had kept the admins free to return to and reclaim Team Galactic. “It says that you were released based on ‘issues of psychological competency.’ What does that mean?”
“It means that licensed and high-level therapists determined that my encounter with the lake spirits and the creation trio and subsequent battle-induced trauma caused significant damage and rendered me incapable of being a threat. I am,” he assured them, “still capable of the rigors of research according to their assessment, but not of planning a project of that level.”
Jupiter’s expression grew pitying – poor master Cyrus – but Saturn’s expression darkened and he became very focused on his tablet, typing something into it. Mars looked over at him suddenly, raising an eyebrow, and – barely perceptibly – Saturn shook his head. “Well,” Mars said, her smile returning, “It’s good that they let you out! We were really worried about you, caged up like that…”
“I have several notes and certificates to prove this assessment,” Cyrus said, bringing out a rather meaty file from his briefcase.
“Oh, no,” Mars said with a laugh, “that won’t be necessary, Master Cyrus!”
“Then, let’s get to the point.” He set the file aside and steepled his fingers once again, his eyes boring into and through each of them. “You need more researchers to bring these projects to fruition. In particular, you need people who are well-versed in multiple fields of study and who understand the mission statement of Team Galactic. You have my resume in case you have forgotten, and I have printed versions in case that resume was misplaced. You shouldn’t need these, however,” he said, tapping the folder, “because all three of you are well aware of what I am capable of,” he paused for a beat, “and what I can do for my organization. I am more than qualified for any of the projects currently in progress, from the energy-negative vertical farm research to the dimensional contact studies, to the creation of easy, safe, and portable structures for small-crew space exploration and short-term settlement. With my expertise and experience, I would be a boon to any of these projects, and in any of the others currently run by Team Galactic. So,” he leaned back, studying them with a cold, dispassionate stare, head tilted slightly to the side. “Will you let me come home?”
His pitch, if it was one, left a silence in its wake that tasted of guilt. Even when he talked in his natural tone, blunt and emotionless and cold, he still had a sheer force of personality and way with words that left one struggling to find a counterpoint to his argument – or wanting to.
Saturn broke the silence. “Why?” he asked, hand clenched and trembling, “why did you do it?”
“I presume that by ‘it’ you mean the events transpiring on Mount Coronet? If so, then you know why,” Cyrus answered, “I wanted to create a new universe, one without spirit and, thus, without strife.”
“And what about us? You didn’t tell us. You didn’t have a place for us in that new world, did you?”
Cyrus’s eyes bored into him, listening politely.
“You used up every scrap of our loyalty, and would have thrown away our lives, just for a world without spirit.” Saturn’s tone was harsh, “A soulless world we would never get to see.”
“Loyalty is meant to be used and, if I recall,” Cyrus said, voice sharp, “you three were all very willing to put your lives on the line for my vision. And you were willing to do so up until the plan was foiled.”
“How would that world have benefited humanity? How would that have followed Team Galactic’s mission statement of ‘achieving new horizons?’” Saturn snapped, “How do we know that you won’t destroy us all if we give you an inch, Master Cyrus?!”
“In theory, Saturn, a world without spirit would be a new horizon, benefitting humanity by ending strife and war. That my hypothesis was incomplete does not matter. With the information I had, I do not regret taking the path that I did.” He shifted his fingers, offsetting them slightly by one, “as for repeating the experiment… I will not. I give you my word. It was ultimately flawed and potentially impossible. Are there any further questions, or have you come to a decision?”
Saturn moved, as if about to speak, when Mars put a hand on his shoulder. “Unfortunately, Master Cyrus, I don’t think that we can hire you, um, at this time. I believe you!” she said hurriedly, “and I really think you’d be an asset to us, but you see, its…” she looked away from that harsh gaze, “… politics. If you were working on our projects, there would be rumors and inspections. People would talk, the sort of people who provide funding for world-saving science.”
Jupiter frowned, eyes roving over Mars’ face, trying to read her. “We would like to help you get back on your feet of course, Master Cyrus,” she spoke up, assuring him, turning back to him with a grimace. “We can call in favors and connections, make sure that you have an income and a creative outlet or something like that, but…”
“… But we just cannot hire you for the position, or for any position within Team Galactic.” Mars concluded.
Cyrus closed his eyes, head slightly bowed in consideration. “… I see…” he said after a few moments, and somehow that was more uncomfortable than the tension of his silence. “You have let emotion and external forces cloud your judgement… but that’s fine. I understand.” Methodically, he closed the briefcase, eyes still closed.
“You do?”
“Of course. I have the uttermost respect for what you are doing with my team. I wouldn’t wish to jeopardize your progress.” He stood, tucking the folder under his arm. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
“Oh, no,” said Mars hurriedly with a smile, “it wasn’t a waste at all! It was good to see you, Cyrus. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Hmm.” The former leader of Team Galactic strode to the door of the conference room and opened it.
“I loved you.” Saturn blurted out.
Cyrus paused on the threshold, frozen in thought. And then, a hand holding the doorframe, he looked back, his intense blue eyes meeting Saturn’s once again. “If it really was love,” he said neutrally, “then you still would.” And with that, he left. The room was uncomfortably silent once more as the door closed. Only the pneumatic hiss of the hinges broke the silence.
Finally, Jupiter rounded on the other Admins. “What the hell was that?!” she snarled, “you’re going to reject him and have a public outburst?! Just like that?!”
“Yes,” Saturn snapped, blushing as he glared back at her. “He deserved it.”
“Oh, did he? He deserved being dragged all the way out here, into an interview, only to be rejected out of hand?!” Jupiter half-rose, “Did you ever intend to hire him at all, Saturn? Mars?! Or did you just want to waste all of our time?!”
“I did intend to hire him, Jupiter,” said Mars, staring straight ahead and refusing to rise to Jupiter’s anger. “Like he said, he’s the most qualified person in the world for this organization that he himself built from the ground up. I intended to hire him just as much as any of our other final candidates. I had to see him in person, though. I had to… know something.”
“That bastard…” Saturn muttered, looking down at his hands. “Did you hear him?! His fucking team.”
“I did catch that,” said Mars.
“It’s always his things. His plan. His perfect world. His team. It’s ours now, we’ve been running this organization the best we can out of the hole he put it in, after he would have left us to die, but it’s still his, the arrogant prick…” Saturn ranted.
“Yes, we get it Saturn, you fucked him,” Jupiter hissed, rolling her eyes, “take your broken heart and shove it. We all loved him. You’re not special.”
“Yes,” said Mars, “we all loved him…” she knew that Jupiter was glaring at her too, and she didn’t care. “That’s why I needed to bring him here and interview him like the others.”
“Why?” asked Saturn.
“Because he is qualified. Because we do love him. But now,” she sighed and closed her laptop, “now we know that he can’t be trusted. Even if he is sincere, even if he never pursues his ‘perfect world’ ever again, we can’t ever trust him again. We can’t work with someone we can’t trust.”
The other Admins fell silent, knowing that what she said was true. The trust they’d had in him had been forever shattered, no matter how they felt about him.
“… What do you think he’s going to do?” asked Jupiter. They all turned towards the door, as if they could see their former leader and his future.
“He’ll figure something out, I expect,” Mars said. “We’ll help him out if we can, anything we can do within reason, but…” she put a hand on Saturn’s shoulder as he looked away, tears in the corner of his eyes, “… we made the right call here.”
What wasn’t said was something all three admins knew – Cyrus had a pull to him like gravity, and they had been in his orbit for a very long time. They were free, now, but it would be all too easy to fall back into the old, comfortable dynamic once again. They needed to be rogue planets now - for Team Galactic, the only place they could call home.
Outside, away from their conversation, Cyrus moved steadily down the hallway. His walk remained disciplined and confident, his back straight and face stern. There wasn’t a hint in his bearing to imply that he was either elated or disappointed with the outcome. He passed by a few people, heard them whispering about him, and – not particularly caring - stopped as they turned the corner. He waited for a moment, and then quietly brought out a small device hidden in the folder. He placed it on the fire alarm system, securing it with an almost affectionate pat.
Methodically, he opened his briefcase and brought out a few items, putting several pokeballs on his belt along with a few objects of technological make. He closed the briefcase with a click, looked both ways along the hall, and then began striding deeper into the headquarters of Team Galactic with determination and purpose. As he walked, he pressed a button on one of the devices, and the alarms suddenly flared to life… and his programmed virus set the entire headquarters into chaos.
Plan B, then.