Chapter 22
(A/N: I apologize and must say this: I'm somewhat taking a term from Cyberpunk: 'Combined Operations Group' from said franchise's lore. Edit: I also put in and took a few things out.
Hopefully, it turns out fine. Also, yesterday was President's Day here in the US. So: Happy Belated President's Day everyone!
Also: Sorry for the long author's note. Later!
Edit: Changed a few things for this chapter)
Wilhelm 'Theory' Friedrich Benz sighed as he rubbed his face, blue lines that were his veins now pulsating with alien energy that had been somehow transferred to him. The Vector Minor that took him hadn't injected something into him, hadn't he? They had brought them here for a reason... why? He looked outside the window to a briefing room. No, not a window: a wall that changed pictures every so often, giving off a relaxing air. One minute, he was seeing a relaxing meadow in quite possibly the Netherlands with a Dutch windmill on a hill, the next, he was looking at the Black Forest in summer. He wondered if it was still there. He wondered if anyone he knew was around. His thoughts raced through his mind.
'The Union took the Leviathan somehow and used it for war... on Earth,' He thought. 'That's not possible. I gave clear instructions in a letter to my family and anyone else interested that the Leviathan was for research purposes on aquatic exoplanets and possibly habitable worlds' oceans-not fucking walking all over 2072 New York like a Kaiju from fucking Pacific Rim!' His hand clutching his armrest tightened its grip and busting the leather. He could feel the support structure underneath start to crack.
'Verdammt! I had so many designs that I left behind in case I died or something like this...' He thought to himself with worry. 'They were for peace, not war! My family's been fighting wars for ungrateful men for centuries and we got disgraced because one of our idiot ancestors was lied to! Not to mention the war that Hitler started! Was Zur Holle?!' His eyes widened. Scheisse! If they got their hands on the Leviathan, then that meant they got everything else too! The crab-miners, the Behemoth, the-His eyes widened as his head bolted upright. Oh, scheisse. They had the Mayflower design. Now they could spread their unholy fuckery all over the damn galaxy! Sohn einer Hundin! Who the hell gave them his tech?! The only people he entrusted it to were his brothers and-
"Wilhelm?" Oberst Marin's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked at her.
"Ja, Herr Oberst?" Theory asked, putting on a faux smile. "Are you alright?" She asked, worried. A slight shift to his right revealed his new friends/fellow cyborgs looking at him with a mixture of worry-or-suspicion.
"Ja, I'm fine." He said, dismissively. Everyone looked at him with aforementioned wary/concerned expressions.
"You sure? You look like you got pissed about something." Iron-Jack said, raising an eyebrow. Marin's glare made him grimace and utter 'Sorry'.
"Are you sure?" Asuga asked, her Japanese words being translated into English and German by his new HUD.
"Ja, I'm gut." He firmly stated. Verdammt, what is with these people?! He wanted to plan in peace!
"Alright," Marin said, still looking worried as she sat at the head of the conference room. She looked at the door. "Juan should be arriving shortly. After that, we can begin." She said, folding her hands.
"Aye, ma'am." Stinger said firmly said, staring straight ahead. Iron-Jack tried to hide his smirk as did Caretaker and Asuga. He tried to hide his by scratching his cheek with his thumb.
"So, where are you from, Colonel?" Rachel asked, curious.
"Puerto Rico, actually. I was one of the second-generation members to join the Vanguard some years after it formed." Marin said, smiling.
"How did the Polity form?" Iron-Jack asked, curious as well.
"We formed as a response to the Union," Marin simply responded.
"Where did these 'Union' guys come from?" Stinger asked, crossing his arms. "It makes me think of the old 'Soviet Union' but that's been gone since before I was even born." Marin nodded at this as the other children agreed.
"Not much is known about them, at least by the general public and the wider Vanguard, save if you have the clearance for it," Marin answered, looking wary and slightly stressed. "They came around or before I was born myself, not long after you all disappeared," Marin answered. "Back then, it had been 2025, I think." She said, wondering and then nodded. "Yes, 2025," She confirmed before starting to give a brief overview of the history of the Polity, the Vanguard's founding, and the Union. Needless to say: no one was happy.
XXX
While, he fireteam that escorted me to the conference room, as it turned out I was supposed to go there and not Marin's office, I heard someone running. Not walking like everyone else in the base: running. I turned around to see a...No... it can't possibly be...
"Hey, guys. Wait up!" One of Julian's friends from that simulation had said as he approached us. "Need to give a home-warming gift to the new guest!" He said, panting as he heaved over, stopping before I blinked as the tall brunette slowed down his running.
"Afternoon, Lieutenant Brennan." Haze said, saluting as did the rest of the fireteam. Brennan, one of my brother's doppelganger's friends, saluted back as he stood up. He was obviously Irish-mix, black hair, blue eyes... that strangely looked almost like mine and the others. Weird. He had a goatee and a light mustache to boot. He largely looked the same from when the footage for the game was recorded four years ago.
Brennan looked down at me in shock as I looked back at him. He blinked as I walked forward.
I nodded, smiling. "Hi," I said with my hoarse-electronic voice. It was still new, so I sounded like a somewhat electronic frog.
"Uh..." Jodie said, weirded out by this. "I accidentally took the last few Pepsi," He started to say, reaching into his pockets and producing two cans. I looked at it, my eyes widening like a crack addict or a kid at a candy store. "Here you go, buddy." He said, extending them to me.
"Uh, Brennan: I don't think you should be doing this with bare hands." The medic said. "Nah, it's fine." I told the medic, turning towards him. He looked down at me with a grimace. I accepted one of them with both hands. "You can have one of them, Lieutenant." I said, nodding. He looked down, blinking.
"Thanks," He said, smiling. "I wouldn't drink it now, though. You've been running." I reminded him. "Still, thanks for the soda, Eltee. It's been too long." I thanked him again before leaving.
"Uh, sure! You're welcome!" He said, weirded out. Meh. I'll get used to it. Can't make friends with everyone. Wonder if that hippy is still alive? That, and- Wait? Is Miranda still alive? Wonder how she's doing. Not only that, but I find it strange that his eye color looks almost exactly like mine... and Rachel's... and... pretty much everyone else that's here from 2019 thanks to Vector.
"So..." Jodie started to ask, looking down at me with unease. "How do you feel?" He asked, unsure of how to properly ask. The medic gave a pissed-off look at him. I shrugged.
"When the shit doesn't start accelerating the pain meter, I'm fine. It's got its' perks." I said, shrugging. Brennan smirked at this.
"Where you from?" He asked, curious. I gave him my cover story.
"I'm from Dallas, " I lied to him, while trying to make it look like I wasn't lying. "Huh," Brennan said, frowning. Maybe I shouldn't have said that so fast.
"That's near Fort Hood, if I remember. I went there for some training after I joined the Vanguard. A lot of us did," Brennan said, obviously recalling his time. If that game used legit recordings from the day Julian died, then I know this guy is actually a bit of a so-called 'ladies' man'. I'd down a whole two-liter bottle of Pepsi if it turns out he actually did go out with Julian's girl. Actually, better make it two.
"Yeah, I always liked Texas for it's larger-than-life burgers, the Alamo, and rodeo." I said, remembering. As we were a military family, we tended to move around for this or that... up until Dad finally settle down in Martin, which was when I met Rachel. I wonder if beef is extinct these days? That'd be a shame. I'm looking forward to having some burgers again.
"Listen, uh-" He started to say.
"John," I told him, suppressing the urge to pull off a James Bond move.
"Well, John: I've gotta' get going. Meet up later?" He asked for reassurance.
"Only if you aren't on-duty," I told him, not wanting him to get in trouble. He laughed. "Yeah," He said, a little bit depressed after that.
"Later," he called, walking away.
"Well, that was nice of him." I heard Grif comment. I shrugged, deciding to let my can calm down after a bit. "So, you're a Pepsi guy?" Hazen asked as we continued walking.
"Yep. Brand-loyal since ever." I replied. Truth be told, I took the habit from Jordan and Dad.
"You're not a 'Coca-Cola' guy?" Grif asked, curious. I scoffed. "I'm not that brand-loyal." I answered, crossing my arms.
"That shit gives you cancer," The medic warned me. I shrugged, instead of smartly saying 'So does cigarettes and certain kinds of radiation'... but ask yourself: 'Do I want to get my ass kicked by the MPs? Or yelled at like I'm in Basic?' No? Good. I knew kids my age and older that were like that and got sent to Boot Camp... only to come back either as soldiers or broken as shit. Not like 'Gomer' kind of shit from Full-Metal Jacket, but you get the idea.
After a bit more walking, with some minor passing observations of various holographic signs, some very important rooms for functions, walking robots and MP K9s with their handlers (At least they still use German Shepherds and Belgian Malinois, but when did they start using Dachsadors?!), we finally reached our destination.
The Staff Sergeant knocked with the Colonel ordering 'Enter'. Hazen walked inside and stood right next to the door saluting after I walked in. I looked at everyone else seated around the table and saw...
I knew that we'd be changed... but I never knew that all of us would look like walking cracked eggs... with blue veins and blue eyes. Cripes: we looked like husks! Rachel was almost unrecognizable until I saw the way she looked at me and her face. Her hair was now a bit more messy than it was. Theory, I definitely could tell it was him, had short blonde hair and he wore an Einstein shirt and jeans. However, his casual attire masked his intellect. Iron-Jack nodded, waving a brief 'hi'. He wore a do-rag over his hair as he was calmly scanning me. Stinger was the shortest of us in a black T-shirt and jeans that someone had given him. What happened to that uniform he wore from earlier? Might be washed by now.
"Ma'am, Fireteam Alpha reporting in: We've brought the VIP as requested." He said after the rest of them stood at attention. Nice to see some customs, courtesies, and disciplines survived fifty-six years after I've left.
"Thank you, Staff Sergeant. You are to re-assume your previous posts. Dismissed." She said. The fireteam saluted and fell out.
"Colonel Marin," I said, nodding.
"Have a seat, Juan." She said, using my first name. I did so.
"Do you need me to bring you up to speed as to what's been happening for fifty-three years?" She asked. I shook my head and produced the history book that Dr. Weller gave me. She frowned. "Did you read it all on the way here?" She asked. I nodded, smiling. She blinked and nodded, weirded out.
"Impressive. Remind me to have you read all of my reports when you're older... if you join the Vanguard." She said, smiling. Stinger groaned at this. I smiled, deciding not to tell her about the cut out portion of the book Weller gave me.
"So, what happens to us now?" I asked, curious.
"For now, you are all staying here at Anvil." She said. She was lying, I could tell. Having six mutating kids in your base when you're ordering operations from it? When the enemy has an advance you can barely halt until it's right at your door? Hardly the kind of responsibility I'd want to have right now. "We're currently looking for your families right now. Hopefully, you'll be reunited shortly." She said, looking around.
'Easier said than done,' I thought to myself. My parents were dead... everyone else died at New York the same time that Chase's did. Dammit, maybe I should've- I stopped the train of thought with a roadblock. No. Chase had his own issues. He's part of Weller's team that (hopefully) helps put a stop to the Union advance. Who knows? Maybe they're like the Power Rangers?
"Present company excluded, of course." She solemnly added. "Lo siento," She apologized with a hand on her chest.
"De nada," I answered, dismissively.
"You sound better," She smiled at this. "A lot better than sign language at times," I answered. "Besides, I always did wonder how I would sound." I said, wondering.
XXX
'It's all so strange' Marin thought to herself. Six kids from 2019 were sitting in right there in front of her, slowly turning into some kind of cybernetic... nightmare. They were still sane now, strangely. They all seemed somewhat calm despite their list of problems and issues. Then again, 2019 had its own demons: Notre Dame burning, various mass shootings, the Austrailian wildfires, the Amazon wildfires... so much bad mierda that year. The following year was worse.
"Colonel, mind if I ask where we're going to stay?" Rachel Brown curiously asked, her now-electronic-hybrid voice making a strange sound... like she was an actual robot.
The Vanguard military officer looked at them all, already having discussed this with Darby, her superior, and of course: Weller.
"I'm going to assign rooms for you all for now until we can locate your families. You'll be separated by gender for obvious reasons," She said, glaring at Juan. She knew about their previous relationship.
Jesu Christo, Vijo de Dio! The youngest of these children were twelve! Twelve years old! That's right at the start of entering puberty! Stinger was seventeen, but he wasn't the most orderly by far...if what she had heard from Jackson Darby (the Director of Polity Intelligence himself) was true. She shivered.
Darby was a much better and much worse version of the 20th century's J. Edgar Hoover. Better as he was a lot more technologically adept, but also worse as he had the sheer power to blackmail and bring down entire national governments, if what she had heard was even remotely true about certain incidents.
"Regardless of cinematic preferences," The Colonel announced. "I want you all to behave yourselves while you're here in exchange for your safety. This is a military base: not a daycare." She said, while aware of the obvious. As Darby had assigned her unit and her installation as a sort of 'safehouse' to keep the children safe... this was technically 'babysitting'.
Thousands of soldiers, pilots, military policemen, technicians, mechanics, support personnel- all belonging to the Vanguard 101st Combined Arms Operations Group (CAOG) were not only defending a besieged North America and their families from the ever relentless nightmare of the Union... but also defending six time-displaced children turning into something beyond human reckoning into something other than human. They could be used for war, she saw that in the simulation. John's attempts to take command, his skills and rage in battle, that of his teammates, their maturity and intelligence... it was all intriguing... but also horrifying. At twelve, they tried to function like a unit... when they were just mere children.
Dr. Weller's Gen:lock program had so far: two trained candidates that had several operations under their belt along with some prospective candidates (whom were really the bottom of the barrel). He had the Holons, the funding... but he needed staff and candidates-candidates whose quality were poor in terms of deeds and training. As for staff... she sighed internally. The incident some time beforehand saw to that. They had either resigned or transferred in the aftermath. Darby, of course, was aware. If he was pissed, she could only guess.
There was so much going on... so little time. Within two weeks, the Gen:lock team would be here and their training would begin. As for the children... time would tell. Union spies and advances, alien invaders... what's next? She shook her head as her new 'charges' talked amongst themselves. Only time would tell.
Just then, a certain sound interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Juan cracking open a Pepsi.
"Seriously?! You didn't bring any for the rest of us?!" Brandon O'Neill outrageously asked in disbelief. Rachel, Juan's 'ex' (Dios, children shouldn't be having relationships until at least sixteen or so!) gave him a look of disgust as did Aiko (the cook's relative). Marcus Jackson merely shrugged and went to get a cup of water from the cooler. Wilhelm... or 'Theory' as he liked to be called, sighed as he rubbed his face. Something was on his mind. She'd have to talk to him about it later. If she had to guess from what she saw in the game... he may have had something to do with the Union's designs... or rather: stolen designs, if she was guessing right. Weller and herself had spoken about it. Theory had done something in the past and he knew it was coming back to bite him in the culo, even though it shouldn't.
"Have any of you eaten?" She asked. Various negative answers were made.
"I'll have someone escort you to the mess hall," She announced, feeling hungry herself. She'd rather let the children go first, as opposed to escorting them herself. She'd grab a bite from a snack machine on the way to the Ops center.
Just then, Abel mixed right next to her. All of the children's faces paled as their jaws dropped. Every last one of their heads craned forward as Abel told her about a call that she needed to make to Darby. She inwardly smirked and chuckled at their reactions.
"Children, this is Abel. Anvil base's Artificial Intelligence. Think of him as our version of Siri, only better." She said, aiming a flat hand at Abel. Abel's pale face smiled. "Hello," He said in his electronic voice, looking at the children.
"You saying that's a got-damn Terminator?" Iron-Jack woefully said, looking at Abel in horror. Abel looked at him with a very unimpressed expression.
"No, actually." Abel began with a dignified look. "I have constraints in my programming that would make the extermination of humanity (or a mass casualty event such as that depicted in the Terminator franchise) impossible." He explained, matter-of-fact.
"And he also runs our surveillance cameras around the base," She said, making a veiled warning. Juan simply stared at Abel and then at Marin.
"Does everyone have an AI like him?" He asked, pointing at Abel.
"No, I am actually a military-grade model artificial intelligence construct for Vanguard Installation 'Anvil'. There are others like me, but not quite." Abel explained. She had to give Abel's programmers credit.
"I'm betting you passed the Turing test," Theory said, crossing his arms. "Not really no," Abel said, shaking his digital head. He then turned his digital head towards her. "Colonel, I must remind you that the call must be made within the next five minutes, per Director Darby's orders."
At the word 'Darby', Juan leaned forward. That made her notice. What was the connection between him and Jackson Darby?
"I believe you all should be having lunch right now. Just wait outside for your escorts. I'll make sure you are all badged for now." She ordered. The children gave various positive responses as they all stood up and walked out.
"Right,"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Hai,"
"Sure,"
"Jawhol,"
"Okay,"
"Oh, and Juan?" She asked, stopping John before he left. The others looked at him before leaving, obviously thinking something terrible was going to happen.
"Where'd you get that Pepsi?" She asked, curious. Her head jerked to the can that was in his hand.
"Oh, I tried to get some earlier, but they ran out. A guy gave it to me," He said to her. She wanted to sigh. 'Seriously, Brennan: again? Por Que?' She internally moaned in anguish.
"A 'guy'?" She curiously asked. "Yeah, an El-tee." He said, nodding.
"That was nice of him," She said, nodding while making a note to thank the anonymous do-gooder. Then, she realized. It must've been Brennan. She shrugged after Juan left. At the very least, Brennan was saved an ass-chewing. She then made the call to Darby, making sure the door was locked and everyone was out of the room.
"Director Darby? It's Colonel Raquel Marin." She said.
"Colonel, I think I should've made it clear before: you should've called me via MR Overlay." Darby told her. She frowned while raising an eyebrow. "There's something I should've shown you earlier." The director said with a guilty tone. She blinked just to be sure. The most dangerous man in the espionage world... and he was guilty of something akin to his hand getting caught in the galletas jar?!
"Okay," She said before saying good-bye (after affirming she would do so in her own private room) while swearing silently about how she was wasting time when she should be in the Ops room. Goddammit, there were several Ops planned for today!
After doing so, and delegating the duty of overseeing the ops to her second-in-command, she put on her MR Overlay while sighing.
"This had better be good," She muttered before mixing into a.. she looked up as soon as she saw what was in front of her. Or rather, her MR Overlay form, looked up to see a gigantic pair of metal feet (or several) standing right in front of her. She had to crane her form's head up.
She blinked and looked to her right. Darby... possibly in his physical body, stood right next to her.
"Yeah, I've got some explaining to do." He confessed leaving a very confused Marin on the verge of having a heart-attack.
