CHAPTER 25:

"I never would have guessed Ollivar would go for that." Sam had leaned forward to get closer to Baird so no one else would hear her.

"I always knew he was cut out for bait." Baird said.

Hoffman had led the parade of them out to the parking area. Ollivar was close behind him still grumbling about the whole ordeal. Whatever they had discussed the night before seemed to have firmly planted Ollivar on the COG's side, but Baird wasn't buying it. It was going to take a lot of convincing for him to trust a Stranded.

Sure, he trusted Dizzy, but Dizzy wasn't a Stranded. He'd taken the opportunity to join the world of the civilized and do his part. Every Stranded had been given the same option. Those who'd chosen to live outside the wire had chosen a life of crime, as far as Baird was concerned. And that was a huge character flaw that told him all he needed to know about a person.

The things you'd agree to do when your life is on the line weren't an indicator of the type of person you'd be after the gun wasn't pointed at your head anymore. Baird hoped Hoffman wasn't stupid enough to forget that. But he hadn't been promoted for nothing, so he had to have some faith in the old bastard.

Jace and Carmine were loading the last crates of ordnance in the back of the two packhorses they'd been given for the trip. Hoffman had given Sam free reign over the storage area and she'd managed to scavenge enough supplies to fit together a proper stash of smoke grenades and even a handful of frags. Everyone took the ammo they could carry, and a spare crate of lancer rounds had been split between the two trucks.

The plan itself was simple; offer up Ollivar as a trade for Griffin to use to set an example to whatever men were still reluctant about their new boss. As soon as Griffin was in grabbing range, turn the tables, snatch and grab, and bang out quick. Throw some smoke for cover if necessary, cut Ollivar loose and hand the reigns of the operation back over to him. Then bring Griffin back to Anvil Gate for whatever sort of trial procedure Gavriel had decided on.

It was one of those things that sounded much simpler in theory than it would be in practice, but the firm framework was a comfort to everyone. There was a relief in having orders that actually seemed achievable for once.

Ollivar had insisted on being given a pistol. Despite Bernie and Baird's protests, Hoffman had agreed. He'd said he'd have to prove himself somehow, and he'd rather him do it before he had a fleet at his disposal. It was logical in its own way, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.

Baird was checking over his armor and gun like he'd done a million times. He started unconsciously shaking his head to himself, lost in his own thoughts.

Cole came up behind him when he wasn't paying attention. "Something wrong, baby? Or you just finally realize that gun ain't never gonna come clean?"

"Just wishing we still had friggin' commandos for shit like this. We weren't built for the stealth option. Kidnapping, extractions, spec ops…Fuck that. We're Gears who rely on brute friggin' strength. I'd feel better if we blew the whole friggin' town up instead."

Marcus had overheard, like everything else. "We're fresh out of commandos, so us regular grunts are gonna have to do the hard work." He was adjusted the crates in the back of the truck, purposefully avoiding looking over. It was the only way to clearly signal he didn't expect, or want, a response. He just needed to say it.

It took Baird a moment to realize where the outburst, if you could call it that, came from. He had forgotten Dom had started out as a commando. It was one of those little ancient history things he never bothered to keep in the front of his mind because he'd never needed to. He had known it, but it hadn't even registered in his brain before he'd made the offhanded comment.

Shit. And we were getting along so well.

He briefly considered apologizing, and that fact alone was a shock. One of those sudden things that hit you and made you realize just how much you'd changed. He opted to just change the subject, knowing Marcus would be nearly as unsettled by an apology as he would.

"Anyone else think it's a little ridiculous that the dumbass went all the way back to his tower? I thought the grub queen did a pretty good job of wrecking the place."

Jace had taken a seat in the flatbed of the packhorse on the right and was doing his kit-check. "It was still standing, just a little crispy. It probably burned itself out. If the tower survived the Hammer strikes it's gotta be pretty damn sturdy."

"Or pretty unstable by now. Wouldn't that be some poetic justice? We get there and find the thing collapsed with Griffin and his buddies buried under a fuck-ton of rubble?" Baird said.

"Sounds good to me. Save us the trouble." Sam said, watching Ollivar carefully. He'd been remarkably silent through the entire exchange. She was doing her best to feel out exactly where his head was. She fell on the side of Bernie and Baird when it came to trusting strangers.

Ollivar caught her staring and flashed her an easy smile. He made a point of checking his pistol for ammo and sighting it up, away from everyone else of course. He was bold, but not stupid. "I'll agree with you there. But I would rather enjoy serving up some justice of my own."

"We're bringing him here. Alive." Marcus said. He had turned to face Ollivar full on, expecting an argument.

Ollivar just chuckled. "All part of the deal, son. But a fella can dream. Besides, Hoffman and I agreed I get to spectate." He looked way more satisfied about that than any sane person should.

Marcus shot Hoffman a wary look, but Hoffman just gave him a subtle nod. It could have been more fodder for a moral debate that neither of them had the time, nor desire, to carry out, but the impending departure served as an excellent deterrent. Now simply wasn't the time.

Sam tossed a short length of rope into the back of the truck Jace was in. "Just be glad it's not up to me or we're have you bound and gagged for the whole trip," she said to Ollivar before climbing into the other truck. She counted her blessings that she'd been assigned to the car he wouldn't be in.

Baird would be driving the truck she was in. She'd be riding shotgun, despite her protests, and Cole, Marcus and Anya had the ride in the back. Alex was driving the other truck with Pad as her passenger, and Carmine, Jace and Ollivar in the back. Hoffman and Anya had brainstormed about the arrangement and had come up with the best possible option, diplomatically speaking. It was the way that seemed to result in the lowest amount of hypothetical violence.

The ride to Char would take a few hours, and they'd have steady radio contact if necessary, but they'd both had the idea to head off any friction before it started. Hoffman had always trusted his Gears to put their jobs first, but this was just part of being a good leader; knowing your squad and how it functioned best.

But he did have to give Anya some of the credit for the foresight.

Hoffman and Bernie had agreed to stay behind. Baird was just grateful Hoffman was finally seeing sense. He'd said that they refused to abandon the fort, and that they needed to stay and run the patrols and operations at the base, but there was no denying they were both chomping at the bit to be part of the action again. As far as Baird was concerned, though, they needed to sit this one out. It'd save everyone worrying about the senior citizens getting their asses blown off. Or at least that's how he looked at it, even if he'd never say it to their faces. He and Bernie had finally reached an understanding and he'd hate to screw it up by prodding her into making a strong protest or tagging along despite her orders. But he figured Hoffman would sooner lock her in a closet than let her come along this time.

He'd even tried to encourage Pad to sit it out, briefly. But Pad pointed out the value of a good sniper who knew the structure of the area, out of earshot of Bernie of course, and Hoffman had reluctantly agreed.

The scene was all too familiar. Marcus climbing up into the truck, pulling Anya up behind him. Waiting for the occupants of the other packhorse to mount up before heading down the long, winding road out of Anvegad.

The memory of the last time they'd been in this position was enough to cause a knot to rise in Anya's throat. She forced herself to swallow it and keep quiet, steeling herself for the trip. She caught Marcus staring at her with that look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking. She tried to force a reassuring smile at him. I'm ok, really.

But she didn't believe it any more than he did.

He turned his eyes forward, staring down the road. The walls slammed down once again.

Hoffman stood beside the truck staring up at Marcus. "You won't have any emergency evac, so if anything goes wrong you get the hell out of there, Fenix. Set an RV point and get back to base." He said it like they didn't already know, but maybe it made him feel better to give a reminder. "I'd keep the radio chatter to a minimum, but you know the fort channel if you need back up. Don't hesitate to call. We've kept two squads on standby and they'll be ready to roll out."

He lowered his voice and nodded his head toward the other truck. "And Ollivar's been given a spare earpiece, set on transmit. I've decided not to share that information with him, but we'll have someone monitoring his channel. If they hear anything even a little off, you'll hear about it."

"You're getting pretty good at this covert stuff, Colonel." Marcus sounded sincere. He looked down at Hoffman briefly before doing a slight jerk of the chin past him. "You've got company."

A small scrap of a woman was jogging across the empty field towards them with a handheld radio. She waved at Hoffman as she slowed her pace, coming to a stop on front of him.

"Everything alright, Tara?"

The young woman stopped to catch her breath before holding the radio out to him. "You're going to want to hear this, sir."

He reached out and took it. Holding the transmit button he spoke quickly. "Hoffman here. Go ahead."

The radio hummed for a moment before a response came. "Colonel Hoffman? Damn good to hear from you, sir." It was Donneld Matheison.

Anya felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. They had already spoken to him the day before, and weren't planning on hearing from him again until that evening. That meant something very good or something very bad had happened. Based on history and instinct she had to assume it was bad.

"You too, Lieutenant. Everything alright?" He didn't waste time with small talk. He had lived in the same world as everyone else, and was well aware of the possibilities.

"In a manner of speaking. You want the good news or the bad news first?"

Hoffman blew out a long breath. "Shit, I guess the bad news. End it on the high note."

The radio was loud enough for everyone to hear without straining, but they all leaned in a little closer.

"It's Gettner, sir." Mathieson said. Everyone held their breath. "We've had someone monitoring her since the Ravens are downed. She just hasn't been right. But she slipped her watch and has gone missing." He paused a beat. "Her, Barber, and a raven. And it seems they liberated a few cans of fuel. Sharle's been cursing a blue streak since he realized it was missing."

"Shit." Marcus muttered from the back of the truck. It was obvious he was blaming himself in some way he shouldn't be.

"And I'm sure he's only concerned for her safety. Remind him that she's a fucking person, not just a COG asset. Any idea where they got off to?" Hoffman tried to remain optimistic.

"My best guess would be that she's en route to Anvegad, sir. She hasn't been saying much, but the bit she has said had mostly revolved around being of more use elsewhere. I imagine that means you folks," Mathieson said. He sounded confident in the assumption.

Hoffman wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

"Plus, Sharle can tell you the amount of imulsion we've got left down to the liter, so he knows she's taken enough for roughly a round trip."

He held the button again. "So what's the good news, then?"

They could almost hear the smile on Mathieson's face. "We've found a few functioning oil rigs, sir. Well, functioning as of three weeks ago. It seems the research staff here had been considering alternative fuel sources for quite some time. The island can run on the water turbine. That's nearly done, by the way. Trescu's been down there himself helping out." He paused again to chuckle.

The thought of a nation's leader pitching in to do simple construction work was actually amusing. Baird tried to picture Prescott on a construction site with a hard hat and work boots, but just couldn't make the mental image work.

Mathieson continued. "But they had mapped out pre-Pendulum War oil rigs, and which were still possibly functional based on their recon. The images look…promising, sir. So for the vehicles we'll have some type of crude fuel again. And there's still a few solar plants scattered around that we may be able to get running, too. They should take care of the housing and commercial elements so we can actually start rebuilding. Solarro still had a plant standing as of last month. I know we had to rely on Imulsion because the power grid wasn't strong enough before, but with the population being…" he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "…Diminished, we should be able to function on old resources again. At least long enough to work out a long-term solution."

Hoffman was grinning. He looked like he was near tears. "Damn good news, son. You've made this old bastard's day."

The radio hummed again. "The best part, sir, is that the Solarro plant is only a few hours' drive from Port Caval. That makes it pretty damn close to home for you." There was no mistaking the joy in Mathieson's voice.

It took Hoffman a long time to decide what to respond with. He knew he had to say something, but the vast amount of information he'd just received was still working its way into his brain. Part of him wondered if he'd heard him right, but by the looks of relief and joy on everyone's faces as he glanced around told him he'd heard just fine. Bernie was giving him that look that said she was expecting him to keel over again and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Mathieson, next time I see you, I'll…Hell, I don't even know what I can do for you, but I'll damn well do something." Hoffman was rapidly running out of cohesive sentences. "Delta's shipping out, but when they're gone we'll radio back and figure out some specifics."

"Yes, sir," came the cheerful response. "Give 'em hell, Delta. Mathieson out."

The radio went silent and it seemed everyone sighed at the same time.

"You heard the man, Gears. There's our hope for the future. We've got a plan, resources, and at least part of a solution. Now move out and settle this shit once and for all so we can get the world back to being habitable again. Our citizens deserve it, and you've fucking earned it, soldiers." Hoffman had renewed vigor in his short speech and it was inspiring. Everyone stood a little straighter and held their chins a little higher. Something had shifted, and for once it was something good.

Everyone took their positions and settled in for the ride. Some of the civvies and Gears had come out to see them off. Hoffman would surely be making a formal announcement about the news that would have everyone's spirits lifted. Even Ollivar was smiling a little. The prospect of losing his Imulsion field had nearly caused him to vomit, but even he couldn't deny that a glimmer of hope for a future free of war looked promising.

Hoffman and Bernie said their quick good-byes and good-lucks and gave a promise to radio with news of Gettner before turning back to towards CIC. Hoffman was eager to find out everything he could from Mathieson, and everyone was starting to get antsy about leaving again.

As the packhorses started their way down the road, Baird's truck taking the lead, Anya looked over at Marcus. Even he had looked briefly pleased at the news, but now his expression had shifted back into a slight frown. She nudged his arm and tilted her head to the side in silent question.

"Gettner," was all he said at first.

"She'll be alright. Raven pilots survive everything, remember? Hoffman says they're crazier than all of us," she said, trying hard to sound as confident as she felt she needed to.

"I should have let them follow." He shook his head slowly as he mentally berated himself.

"No, you did the right thing. We couldn't spare the fuel. But if they are heading here, it'll be nice to have a Raven standing by for extraction if we need it." Anya was trying to find the right thing to say, but she doubted there was one.

His jaw twitched briefly like he was about to say something else but had decided against it. He just fixed his eyes forward again, lost deep in his own head.

Resigning herself to a long and silent trip, Anya started cycling through the radio channels out of a mix of curiosity and habit. If there were any incoming signals from the Stranded settlement she wanted to be the first to know about it.

She tried to concentrate on the hope looming on the horizon, but no amount of distraction was going to take her mind off of Gettner, or Griffin.

Looking over to check on Marcus she realized he was in the exact same frame of mind.