Prologue
May 19, 2051 - Late Evening
Republic of Italy
Trieste-Friuli Venezia Giulia Airbase
Joint USAFEE-PEU Campsite
Ribeyrolles and I covered our ears as the rumble of jet engines and helicopter blades filled the scene of the Italian air base. Even though the nurse and I were just visitors who were viewing Polarday's dream like wandering spirits, the sounds were being just a little too realistic for our tastes at the time.
Regardless, frantic preparations were already in full swing in the air base as the American Captain and his 57th Brigade Combat Team were waiting anxiously for the start of what many feared would be a suicide mission. I heard many of them whispering about stories of the countless battles that had already been fought.
From what I heard, many of them had loved ones who had already died to the Soviet nukes dropped on Idaho, the surrounding states and even in Canada. Many more of them had friends, neighbors and family who have already died trying to break through the Iron Curtain.
That ideological line in the sand that divided Europe was a meat grinder where 3,000 divisions worth of men and women, Western and Soviet alike, went to die.
For that reason, the troops were troubled by the relatively peaceful scene in the USAFEE-PEU campsite where the Captain had gathered them for the evening. There was a large campfire at the heart of the site at the outskirts of the air base that wouldn't have been out of place in the many campsites that once dotted the Idaho landscape before the war. From the campsite, the soldiers could see allied Italy's border with neutral Yugoslavia just a cannon shot away.
Under the light of the constellations of the Summer Triangle and the half-moon, the soldiers of the 57th BCT were nervously eating their evening rations by the fire. That was when Polarday appeared together with the Captain and Genevieve.
My heart then skipped a beat. In the Captain's arms, I saw something familiar. I knew that shape, the luster of its varnished wood and knobs perpetually fixed nylon strings to E-A-D-G-B-E standard.
It was my acoustic guitar!
Polarday then came forward and addressed the troops. She gently encouraged them for the fight that laid ahead of them and promised to lead them all to victory. Unlike when I first saw this 'special automaton' in the vat of the Idaho doll factory, she truly seemed like a human girl now. Her stance, mannerisms and demeanor were more human than any doll of her generation and her words reached out to the troops gathered by the fire.
Once she finally had their attention, she offered to sing for them that night.
When she did this, soft, affectionate chants of 'Potato' broke out amongst the gathered troops. Those chants swelled and became cheers that wouldn't be out of place in a concert - or a live house, even. The rowdy crowd soon challenged the loud noises of the air base too!
Ribeyrolles and I sat on the ground with the troops as the Captain tuned the guitar. Genevieve, on the other hand, brought out a tambourine and helped warm up the crowd for the performance. Then, once the performers were all ready, Polarday started to sing.
Polarday sang Western songs, all in English, accompanied by the Captain and Genevieve. Every single one of those songs were songs that I had sung at least once on the stage of the Elbe River Live House. She swayed gently from side to side and stole glances at the stars when she sang a ballad. She had a lively expression and a fire in her eyes when she belted out rock.
Some of the troops got on their feet and started dancing. Others sang along and clapped to the rhythm. What was clear to me, however, was that everyone there in the camp was letting the Polarday's voice and the music sink into them. If I had gotten this kind of reception in Brest Oblast, I felt like I would have broken down and cried happy tears.
Tears were forming at the sides of my eyes as I watched Polarday sing her mechanical heart out. I wondered if she knew that she was performing the last concert that these men and women would ever hear. I wondered if these troops knew that this was their last moment of respite on the Western side of the Iron Curtain.
Surely, the ominous premonitions about the horrible fate that could be waiting for them in Brest Oblast lingered in their hearts.
However, as the muse of the 57th BCT sang, the hearts of the soldiers were put at ease. For a short time, the troops were in Idaho again - along with everyone that they had lost along the way. All five hundred of them had tacitly made peace with what needed to be done.
The Third World War was going to end one way or another - and the 57th BCT was going to be a part of it.
Four songs into Polarday's surprise concert, a soldier emerged from one of the USAFEE communications tents and rushed towards the campfire. It was Corporal Elias bearing a distinct red envelope.
The concert came grinding to a halt as the Captain took the red envelope from Elias. The Captain broke the seal and read the printed documents inside. His green eyes darted left and right as he scanned through the document before he set the paper and the red envelope aside.
The Captain then faced his soldiers and declared,
"The end of the Third World War is upon us! We fly at midnight! Operation Stalwart Anchor is a go!"
The soldiers of the 57th BCT cheered and then promptly finished off whatever food or drinks they had prepared for the evening. Once they were done, they scattered off around the air base to finish off whatever preparations they had left to do for the midnight assault.
The only one who seemed disappointed by the whole ordeal was Polarday. Her performance was cut short and she was about to embark on a dangerous journey into hostile territory. I watched her look up to the constellations of the Summer Triangle in the night sky with longing eyes.
If I were to guess, Polarday was thinking about just how far away from home she was - and how much further she had to go. It was at that time that the Captain patted Polarday's head and ruffled her white hair.
The Captain then said,
"You did good today, Potato. The troops loved your singing. I'm sure they feel like they can take on the world now, thanks to you. Keep it up and you might just have a shot at performing on television someday!"
Polarday tilted her head and asked,
"... television?"
Instead of answering, the Captain ruffled Polarday's hair even more and the special automaton puffed up her cheeks.
Honestly, watching Polarday act like that really made me feel like I was looking at a mirror. I knew that if I were in her shoes at that moment, I would have pouted just like that.
It wouldn't have been because I was frustrated or anything like that.
I would have been pouting to stop myself from smiling a foolish smile - and I knew Polarday was doing the same.
The more of Polarday's life that I watched, the more I felt that the two of us truly were cut from the same cloth. We were two sides of the same coin.
While Polarday grumbled over being doted upon by the Captain, Genevieve came up to them with the M200 CheyTac Intervention rifle cradled in her hands. Genevieve handed the rifle to Polarday and then spoke tenderly,
"All of us are counting on you, Potato. We believe in you."
Polarday took the rifle and then nodded bashfully to Genevieve. She embraced the rifle and blushed as she spoke,
"I will make you proud, mama. I'll bring papa home safe to you when the war is over. Then - we can be a family for real!"
Genevieve's eyes glistened as tears formed at the sides of her eyes. Hearing the word 'family' must have made her heart waver just a little bit. However, she wiped those tears with the back of her hand and mused,
"I'm already proud of you, Potato. Your papa is proud of you too. And when all else is lost, I want you to remember one thing."
Polarday's expression brightened as she smiled at Genevieve and answered,
"Only hope remains!"
Genevieve patted Polarday's head this time, laying her hand gently on top of the Captain's. If it wasn't for the military uniforms that they were wearing or the large sniper rifle in the young girl's hands, I would have thought that I was looking at a small, happy family on a camping trip with their friends.
Deep inside, I sort of wished for the same thing as well.
A peaceful night with my happy family.
However, that dream was not meant to be.
Genevieve and the Captain eventually let go of Polarday's messy crown of hair. The Captain then handed his acoustic guitar to Genevieve and asked,
"I want you to watch over this for me, Jenny. I want to teach Potato how to play when we get back."
Genevieve took the guitar and smiled at the Captain to say,
"I'll guard it with my life, James, my love. I'll make sure Potato gets to use it. Je promets."
With that, Genevieve kissed the Captain on the cheek and then excused herself with the guitar in tow. Polarday, on the other hand, took the Captain's hand and the two of them walked towards the air base hangars where the X-22 Super Ospreys were waiting for them.
A flight of F-35 and Eurofighter Typhoon jets flew overhead together with many other older aircraft, breaking the speed of sound as their engines roared like banshees. Then, far in the distance, explosions rumbled and began illuminating the night sky.
And so began the last great battle of the Third World War: the ill-fated Invasion of Brest Oblast.
8:22 PM - System Clock: UTC + 3
ARPANET-ID-208-789 (Original)
I.O.P. Unit 257 (Provisional)
Mass Production Prototype
STANDBY
The scene of the Italian air base faded away as the dreams in the eye of my mind always did, but neither Ribeyrolles nor I were dragged out of the ARPANET cyberspace. Tent by tent, warplane by warplane and soldier by soldier disappeared from the scene, leaving only Polarday frozen in time as she walked with the afterimage of the American Captain.
Before long, the Captain too started to disappear. He disintegrated into lines of code, but the warm smile on his lips and the gentle hand that held Polarday's were the last to dissolve into nothingness. Polarday's projection, however, remained in the olive green abyss.
Once the rest of the scene was gone, Polarday's projection unfroze. I watched as her small hand stirred, instinctively looking for the Captain's hand. She raised her head and looked up to the starless cyberspace, still hoping to see the constellations of the Summer Triangle that she saw in the Trieste air base.
Then, Polarday turned around and glared at me and Ribeyrolles with her devastated, bloodshot lavender eyes. Polarday pulled on the strap of her rifle and readied herself to wield it.
However, Ribeyrolles steadied her breath and a peculiar assault rifle - her namesake Ribeyrolles 1918 Automatic Carbine - appeared out of thin air. Ribeyrolles took her own gun just as Polarday was taking hers, but the French nurse pulled the trigger first.
Ribeyrolles' shot whizzed through the air and struck the rifle in Polarday's hands. The rifle then disintegrated into lines of code that slipped through Polarday's fingers. Ribeyrolles then pointed the barrel of her gun at Polarday's head, but she now kept her finger off the trigger.
Polarday's face went pale as she searched for the remnants of her now non-existent gun. She then clenched her fists and decided to lunge at Ribeyrolles with a combination of wide haymakers and wild jabs. However, Polarday's fists went straight through Ribeyrolles' body and met no resistance whatsoever. So, Polarday's own momentum drove her forward, she stumbled down to the olive green ground and then fell flat on her face.
Undaunted, Polarday picked herself up from the floor and stubbornly renewed her offensive. None of her strikes ever connected with Ribeyrolles, so she tried going after me too.
My knees buckled as the savage Polarday snarled and threw wild punches in my direction. I fell backwards onto the ARPANET floor, but Polarday's strikes flew straight through me as well.
At this point, Polarday's face seemed to glow beet red and her breath fogged up before her. She ran out of steam and fell down to her knees, panting hard to catch her breath. Her locks of unkempt white hair covered her lavender eyes like a veil before she screamed,
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!?"
Ribeyrolles rested her assault rifle on her shoulder and looked down at the fallen Polarday to explain,
"I simply defanged you and changed the core script of your code, mademoiselle Polarday. Your subroutine script no longer runs on ARPANET or ZENER. 'Polarday' now only exists on my N. U. R. S. E. platform where I shall keep you for observation. Now, you can do no harm - and no harm can be done to you. For now."
Polarday raised up her head and then glared at Ribeyrolles as she barked,
"What? Now you expect me to thank you for not finishing me off!?"
Ribeyrolles shook her head and her assault rifle disappeared with a flash of powder blue light. She then knelt down to the level of the fallen Polarday's eyes and corrected,
"You don't have to thank me. I'm just doing my job for mademoiselle WA. What I would like you to do is to tell us everything else you know about Operation Stalwart Anchor - every single detail about Genevieve Saint-Louis, Alexi Stoyanovich, Corporal Elias…"
The nurse's sky blue eyes then shimmered menacingly as she added,
"And Captain James Salmons of the USAFEE."
Polarday's entire body shook when she heard this. Her lavender eyes then burned with rage and fury as she roared,
"HOW DARE YOU SAY PAPA'S NAME SO CASUALLY!?"
Wait.
Papa?
James Salmons?
My thoughts, however, were drowned out by Polarday's hysterical screaming as she continued trying to attack me and Ribeyrolles. The nurse shook her head and promptly deduced - her voice barely able to compete with Polarday's screeching,
"I don't think we can get anything else out of Polarday for now, mademoiselle M200. We're returning to Level I - stand by!"
When Ribeyrolles said this, the two of us started floating off of the olive green ground and left the infuriated Polarday in the lonesome cyberspace. As my vision was fading away to white, however, I saw Polarday fall down to her knees and weep bitterly.
Seeing Polarday in such pain made me feel like crying too… but I knew that there was nothing I could do for her.
For now.
Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan
Chapter 10 - Mashed Potato (Part II)
Evening
Brest Oblast - Commercial District
GKTV-5 Newsroom Building
Fifth Floor - Executive Office
Blackout curtains were drawn over the windows of the office of Genevieve Saint-Louis that evening, leaving a single desk lamp to do the work of the full moon. The veteran news anchor sat there listlessly hunched over her desk as shadows shrouded her tear-swept eyes. An uneasy silence lingered there in the room, but it was broken by a pair of footsteps that approached the desk from the side.
Moments later, a wine glass was placed beside the listless Genevieve. The distinct sound of a popping cork then reached her ears and the fine aroma of aged wine reached her nose. A radiant white wine then flowed into the glass and filled it a quarter way through.
Genevieve took the glass, looked at it fondly against the light of her desk lamp and mused,
"2051 Friulano. The last vintage of Friuli-Venezia Guilia before that entire region became a Red Zone. I can't believe you managed to smuggle one through the Iron Curtain."
Alexi chuckled and promptly poured himself a glass as well. He filled his glass halfway through, set down the bottle of wine beside Genevive's glass before he took a seat on the armchair before Genevieve's desk. He took a sip of the white wine and explained,
"It was practice for crossing through the borders. That has always been my specialty, you know."
Genevieve took a sip of wine and lamented,
"And my specialty seems to be blowing things up. After all… I was the reason why Trieste became a Red Zone."
Alexi sat in silence and took a larger swig of wine. He then took a deep breath and revealed to Genevieve,
"You know… on that night, the 57th BCT saw the explosion in Trieste from the Ospreys. The troops were horrified by the sight… seeing a mushroom cloud glowing bright green in the dead of night. Those boys and girls had seen atomic bombs go off before - but never 'Collapse Fluid' bombs - and not as close as it did."
The large, balding man rubbed his thin beard as he continued,
"That psychopath Elias was probably the only one who didn't bother to look back at Trieste. He slept through the chaos without a care in the world! On the other hand, Polarday and the Captain were heartbroken. They thought you were dead."
Genevieve swirled the wine in her glass pensively and explained,
"The mission that Sokol gave me was to destroy the Coalition's air base - not to destroy the 57th BCT. I escaped by a Soviet submarine that was waiting for me at Trieste Port and detonated the bomb remotely… but only after the 57th had taken flight."
Alexi turned away from Genevieve and looked into his own glass as he recounted,
"The Captain and Polarday snapped that evening. The two of them vowed to seek revenge for your 'death'. The troops became fanatically loyal to the mission too. They had been backed into a corner, after all. There was no home waiting for them if they failed. Because of that, despite the stubborn resistance in Brest Oblast, we were successful in retrieving the rest of the Polarday data… at the expense of four hundred and ninety eight dead troopers."
He closed his eyes and ruefully lamented,
"Elias and I sabotaged the X-22 Super Ospreys after we landed. We then slipped out from the BCT when we besieged that old prison fortress. We escaped by that fort's extensive sewer system, leaving Polarday with the Captain and the rest of the troops without a way to get home. So, the Captain had the BCT hunkered down in downtown Brest where they waited for an evacuation that never came. Polarday watched each and every one of them die. One by one."
Genevieve downed her glass of wine in one go and then set it down on her table somberly as she spoke,
"That's because Sokol and I were lobbying at the peace conference in Belgrade. James' successful assault finally brought the Soviets back to the negotiating table. His 57th BCT's pyrrhic victory ended the Third World War with a bitter ceasefire… but neither the East nor the West wanted to admit why they gave up the fight. So, the Americans, the Europeans and the Soviets all sat on their hands and watched as thousands of people continued to die in the streets of Brest Oblast for six whole months."
Alexi heaved a sigh and grumbled,
"The two of us were just cogs in that machine of lies. All we could do was watch… until it was time to retrieve Potato. The rest is history."
As Alexi was speaking, the door to her office swung open. The petite figure of a teenage girl with flowing black hair and unnaturally light brown eyes marched haughtily into the room. She watched Genevieve and Alexi having wine and taunted,
"What? Is this a Traitors Anonymous meeting or something? Are we gonna sit in a circle and tell each other that everything's going to be alright? I hope you folks aren't having second thoughts about this - after everything that my Father and I have already done for your farce."
The girl then sauntered over to the armchair on Genevieve's left and sat down cross-legged. Alexi furrowed his brow and argued,
"Oy. That's little Jimmy's seat…!"
Genevieve, however, shook her head and calmed Alexi down,
"Relax, Alexi. It's just a seat now. It probably won't survive the blast anyways, so let it go."
Alexi grumbled, but the black-haired girl just shifted her crossed legs nonchalantly. The black haired girl then leaned to her right and rested her cheek on her palm as she praised,
"I do have to say, Miss Saint-Louis, you are a master of deception. To think that you could weave up such a conspiracy in order to cover your own ass - lying to everyone around you with a smile… gosh, you media folk really do scare me sometimes."
Genevieve poured herself another glass of wine and rebuffed,
"I am simply aware of how fractured the postwar bureaucracy of the New Soviet Union is. There is a lot of bad blood that runs in the NSU and it's only a matter of time before they're at each other's throats. Brest Oblast will only be the beginning… and I've made sure that this incident will give all of those bloodthirsty bastards a bloody nose."
The teenage girl smirked and deduced,
"Still trying to justify murdering people with Collapse Fluid bombs, Miss Saint-Louis? Keep it up and you'll be able to rationalize genocide. When that happens, you'll make for a wonderful Nyto, you know~! Father would love to adopt a talented, mischievous girl like you - if you let us rip out your spine and map out a neural cloud for you~!"
Genevieve downed her second glass of wine and growled,
"I would rather not have anything else to do with a splinter group like Paradeus after this job is done, Miss Terco."
Terco hummed with amusement and leaned back into her seat as she replied,
"If things go as planned, Paradeus won't be just another splinter group in the rotting, zombified corpse of the NSU. A new world will be born and it will be shaped according to my Father's will. Mark my words. Now - say your goodbyes before Brest Oblast goes up in smoke, just like Trieste did before it. My new 'recruits' and I will handle things from here."
Genevieve looked at the empty bottle on her desk before she stole a glance of one of her desk's open drawers. Inside that drawer, she saw a number of things. One of her miniature voice recorders was sitting there beside a packet of spare guitar strings and a small box of guitar picks. There was also a booklet of popular songs for the acoustic guitar that was filled with index cards and a French textbook about Artificial Intelligence Operating Systems.
In the far corner of that drawer, however, there was also a small powder blue booklet with a cartoon illustration of a mother bear and a newborn bear in swaddling clothes. Underneath that illustration was Genevieve's handwriting that read,
'James Salmons Jr. - 14 décembre 2042'
She closed that drawer, locked it with a key and then turned to Terco as she announced,
"I've already said enough goodbyes for a lifetime, Miss Terco. Potato is gone… and my son is none the wiser. I'm ready to leave it all behind once and for all."
Late Evening
Belarus Outskirts
Outside of Station 56586
Undisclosed Location
A dull pain lingered in my head as I came to once more at the end of that forgotten sewer. I felt the strange sensation of the cable being pulled out from the diagnostic jack at the back of my neck. Then, I heard the crisp click of my armor plate being snapped back into place.
My blurred vision finally sharpened and I found the real Ribeyrolles kneeling beside me as she packed up her N. U. R. S. E. computer and dutifully wound up her cable. She then smiled at me and spoke in her usual parsed manner.
"Bon soir... mademoiselle M200. Welcome back… to the real world."
Despite Ribeyrolles' warm welcome, however, there was an air of restlessness in that concrete nook. Silver moonlight poured down from the heavens and illuminated the scene, but the tablet devices in M14's and WA's hands shone brighter and painted their faces pale white.
I caught a glimpse of the video feeds that they were watching. Two different chyrons from two different TV stations gave them away. M14 was watching the stodgy live feed Belarusian STV channel on her device. WA, on the other hand, had her device tuned in to the feed of the bombastic big dog that was RT - Russia Today.
Both of the feeds, however, were reporting on the same story.
Heated protests were erupting and turning violent throughout Brest Oblast.
I let Ribeyrolles help me up to my feet before I chided the two rifle dolls,
"Come on now. I know STV and RT are pretty popular channels, but at least check out GKTV-5 too. We usually have a better hand on the pulse of the region than the big dogs."
M14 turned to me and she tapped on her device to change tabs. She then showed me the GKTV-5 Newsroom feed which was displaying nothing but static. M14 then explained,
"GKTV-5 was the first site we checked, but their feed was offline. It still is."
I furrowed my brow and argued,
"Offline? The Newsroom broadcasts 24/7. It should be the Nightly News segment with Gala Minkovsky, one of our veteran newscasters!"
WA folded her arms and insisted,
"We're not going to lie to you about something like this, Miss M200. M14 and I already tried your channel. If you still doubt us, you can check the channel yourself."
I pouted at their responses and fished for my cell phone. I pulled up the GKTV-5 Newsroom but I noticed that it took an unusually long time to load the website. Then, once the website did load, the 'Watch Now' window that normally auto-played the live feed was just a rectangle of blank static.
Impossible… it was just like they said.
Nothing was being broadcast!
A little bit embarrassed, I shimmied over to M14's side and watched the Belarusian STV news feed with her on her device. There, I saw footage from a drone flying over what appeared to be Brest State Pushkin University.
The idyllic campus, however, had been turned into a fiery battleground of anti-Rossartrism protesters and pro-Rossartrism counter protesters. Both sides were throwing bricks and molotov cocktails as they all seemed to be raring for a fight. Only a thin line of concrete barriers separated them, but it was only a matter of time before that 'Iron Curtain' fell.
The STV news anchors, however, seemed to be venting their anger on the pro-Rossartrists - calling them subversive Western sympathizers. Meanwhile, in the Russia Today feed, the RT news anchors were staunchly against the anti-Rossartrists and were painting them as Belarusian ultra-nationalists who wanted to restart the inconclusive Third World War.
M14 furrowed her brow and remarked,
"STV and RT both operate under supervision of the New Soviet Union Information Bureau, right? Then why are they riling up the people of Brest Oblast to take to the streets for opposing sides? Are they trying to start a riot or something!?"
WA folded her arms and clicked her tongue,
"The only thing those two channels seem to agree on is the need for Martial Law. The national government in Minsk seems to be holding an emergency meeting about the riots. It won't be long before they send the KCCO to crush the uprising…"
"The KCCO!?" I argued in dismay, "W-wait. Peacekeeping is something third party PMC's are in charge of, right? Not the Regular Army."
M14 closed her eyes and then shook her head ruefully as she spoke,
"If the pandemonium in Brest Oblast has already blown up this much, then the municipality should have contacted us for a peacekeeping contract. The only reason they're not calling us would be that they probably have something else in mind."
While M14 was speaking, both the STV and RT feeds reported breaking news. They were announcing that the municipality of Brest Oblast had just contracted G&K Station 113315 for an emergency peacekeeping mission.
"Wait a sec…!" I recognized that station number, "That's the HQ station in Minsk, right? Isn't Brest Oblast 56586's responsibility!?"
WA ran a hand through her hair and then revealed,
"After the events of the Unsavory Incident, M14 and I saw many unbelievable things happen between 113315 and the KCCO. I'm starting to believe that 113315 and the KCCO have closer links than what meets the eye. They wield a considerable amount of power in S05, and neither of them are fans of Station 56586."
M14 nodded and added grimly,
"I don't know what their beef with us is, but Station 56586's hands are tied. We can't just storm into Brest Oblast without a formal contract."
Watching the news feeds and the theories being thrown around by M14 and WA, I felt my head starting to spin. That was when the cell phone in my hand suddenly shifted out of my web browser and started to ring. A familiar name then appeared on the screen.
"Jim…"
I stepped away from the chaos and faced the moon as I finally answered the call.
"H-hello?"
"M200? M200! It is you, isn't it?"
"Of course it's me, dummy. Who else would it be?"
"Sorry. I was just worried about you. Have you seen the news?"
"STV and RT. GKTV-5 seems to be offline."
"Yeah. I received an email from Genevieve telling me not to go work and to leave Brest Oblast as soon as possible. The other folks should have received it too - all of them were carbon-copied."
"Genevieve sent that…?"
"It's strange. She would never say something like that. The email went out just as the riots were getting underway too. I'm lucky the debates ended early. Otherwise, I would have been stuck at Pushkin University."
"Gosh, that's right. Are you getting out of town? Where are you now?"
"That's the thing, M200. I was passing by your apartment on my way home when I saw people break into your apartment unit - the one in the Romashka Tenement. The whole place was turned upside down. Perhaps it was a robbery, but there was a fight… and there are bodies on the floor."
"What in the world…!?"
"That's why I had to talk to you, M200. Can you get a hold of the Subcommander of Station 56586? I'm with someone who says she needs to speak to her immediately."
I looked behind my shoulder and saw that M14, WA and Ribeyrolles were all watching me intently. So, I put the call on speaker phone and replied,
"Subcommander M14 is with me right now. I'll put you on speaker… but who is with you?"
"Thanks, M200. Hold on. Let me give her my phone."
A moment of silence passed as Jim's phone changed hands. In the meantime, I brought my phone closer to M14 who then broke the silence with a firm, authoritative voice,
"This is Subcommander M14. Badge ZENER-56586-037 Primary. Authority S-COM. Who are we speaking to?"
The voice on the other end of the line then answered with the strain of pain etched all over her voice,
"Greetings, Subcommander. My name is… Marlohe. I am calling as a surrogate... of a ranking officer of STATSEC, but I cannot reveal any more details than that."
Marlohe…? That strange doll who saved me and Nagant in the grocery store back alley?
M14 seemed doubtful of the voice as well, so she furrowed her brow and challenged her,
"If STATSEC wanted to call us, there are official channels to do so. Why use a civilian's phone to call another civilian to reach us?"
"Calling the Griffin HQ in Moscow... would only redirect us to your regional S05 HQ in Minsk - that is, Station 113315 - but I can guess... you're smart enough to realize what the problem with that is, Subcommander M14. Besides… those 'official channels' have been tapped..."
M14's lips crumpled, but she still grilled Marlohe,
"And why would STATSEC want to contact a local garrison when Griffin's Minsk HQ is already sending troops to quell the riots?"
"That's because Station 113315... won't actually send peacekeepers. Moreover... the riots are a distraction… a smokescreen to hide their plans. Once the riots… hit fever pitch... once everyone is on the street, a Collapse Fluid bomb will be detonated for maximum effect."
"A Collapse Fluid bomb!?" M14 gasped.
"Ja. A Collapse Fluid bomb. I do not know the full objectives… but Brest Oblast will be considered… a Red Zone… and the city will be bombed. They will claim… that they are killing ELID-infected people… but this is an organized operation! It will be like the Unsavory Incident all over again. My sources have told me… that in KCCO circles, this is called 'Operation Vigilant Star'... and it is led by a certain Special Agent 'Chaika'."
Chaika? That was the odd name that I heard when Genevieve called me the other night.
Genevieve was involved in this mess!?
Chills ran up my spine as I listened to Marlohe's claim. M14, WA and Ribeyrolles likewise held their breaths as they considered her words. M14 then picked up my phone and asked as calmly as she could,
"Vigilant Star, huh? The light of a thousand suns… So - what do you want us to do about it?"
"On behalf of the Leipzig Office of STATSEC, I would like to contract... the services of G&K Station 56586 for two missions. The first mission… is to provide a peacekeeping force… to quell the riots throughout Brest Oblast. That will buy STATSEC agents... time to find and defuse and neutralize the Collapse Fluid bomb - and any other surprises that our enemies may have."
"And the second mission is…?" M14 grumbled.
"The second mission... is to secure the premises of the GKTV-5 Newsroom building. While the riots were breaking out, local vagrants... and strange men in white hoods stormed the building and garrisoned it. They are heavily armed... and dangerous humans. Furthermore… they are led by a dangerous enemy... that STATSEC has been tracking throughout the New Soviet Union. On our records, she is called... 'Nyto Terco'"
Nyto…!? Aren't those the weapons that Polarday was made to counter?
A photograph of the so-called 'Nyto Terco' then appeared on my screen. It was a young girl with long, straight black hair and unnaturally light brown eyes. The way that the girl looked into the lens of the camera made my hair stand on end.
After that, photos of the white-hooded soldiers and the gopniks moving around town were displayed. M14 regarded the photos of Nyto Terco and the strange men on the phone. She then glanced at me and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something.
However, she held her tongue and spoke to Marlohe instead,
"These enemies do not look like automatons, Miss Marlohe. Are you asking our Station to fight human enemies? Griffin doesn't have the authority to hurt humans beyond self defense. Even if we go all the way to Mr. Kryuger himself, we won't be able to…"
"Griffin... doesn't have that authority, but STATSEC does. The Type II Exception."
Beads of sweat formed on M14's brow as she recognized that exception,
"License to kill."
"Ja. I am only a surrogate, however, and the Leipzig Office... is a minor directorate. I can only offer you... Type II Exceptions for three dolls - without dummy links - at my discretion."
M14 looked up to the moon above the nook. She then closed her eyes and sighed,
"Normally, we would complain about you bureaucrats being stingy - but three is plenty for us."
"I'll ignore your comments... about STATSEC for now, Subcommander. For now, I will need the badge IDs... of the dolls of your strike team for the Exceptions."
"Listen closely, Marlohe, because we shall only say them once."
"Go ahead."
"The common prefix tag is '56586'. The I.O.P. models are '114', '96' and '37'."
"Confirming. Those are… Welrod Mk. II, Grizzly Mk. V and… M14. Are you sure?"
Huh!? They're the ones M14 picked!?
At first, I thought it was some sort of mistake, but M14 opened her eyes and looked up to the moon. The moonlight shone off of her golden brown eyes with great clarity and an unshakable determination as she replied,
"One hundred percent - as long as our Station has full operational command. My adjutant and her aide-de-camp will handle the peacekeeping OP."
I heard a contemplative hum from the other end of the line. Then, Marlohe spoke again,
"Understood. When you arrive, Mr. James Salmons and I... will go into the Newsroom with you. When it is safe, I will arrest the ringleader of this conspiracy: Special Agent Chaika - also known as Genevieve Saint-Louis - and her associates. Don't keep us waiting."
...
Marlohe's call ended and the screen of my phone settled on the menacing image of Nyto Terco's sneering face. M14 picked up the phone and replaced Terco's image with my lock screen - the crest of the GKTV-5 Newsroom.
M14 regarded the crest and mused,
"It appears that the CEO of GKTV-5, Miss Genevieve Saint-Louis, is the one who has been calling the shots. The call that she made to you, and the dreams that we saw in your ARPANET cyberspace are evidence enough - and even STATSEC is claiming that she's the suspect."
Her golden brown eyes then turned to mine as she revealed,
"Genevieve's actions tell me that she is in cahoots with the Cabal that Wawa and I have been fighting - and I have just been given the license to kill. Now is the time to make a choice, M200-chan. Wawa and I already know what we have to do… but what about you?"
I took a deep breath and looked up to the night sky towards the West. There, I caught a faint glimpse of the Summer Triangle constellation that Polarday seemed to always look for in her dreams. Seeing that, I clenched my fists and turned back to M14 with a firm answer,
"Whatever it is that Genevieve has done… or whoever it is that she is working for… it doesn't matter to me. I promised her that I would become a Star Anchor. I promised her that I was going to be an arrow of truth for the people of Brest Oblast. If doing so means that I have to fight her and go against her plans, then so be it!"
With that, I took my phone back from M14 and offered her a contract of my own,
"As the War Correspondent of GKTV-5, I want to make a contract with you guys too. I want you to escort me and Jim into the GKTV-5 Newsroom… and I want you to help me get the channel back on line. The people of Brest Oblast don't deserve to be kept in the dark like this any longer!"
A smile formed on M14's lips as she revealed,
"We had a feeling that you would say that, M200-chan. That's why we were busy making arrangements while you were asleep."
"Arrangements…?"
Before I could say anything else, the distant rumble of engines reached my ears and powerful beams of light from above us illuminated the otherwise dark scene like spotlights. A voice from the rocks above the nook cried out,
"Look down below!"
Three climbing ropes with reflective orange tassels dropped down from the edge of those rocks and settled near the concrete walls of the nook. I turned to M14 to ask her what was going on, but the Subcommander gestured to the rocky cliff above us and spoke,
"We hope you took the climbing exercises we gave you seriously, M200-chan. Three stories up shouldn't be a problem for you, no?"
A bead of sweat formed on my brow, but I feigned smugness and shot back,
"I go up five stories to go to work everyday. Ahahaha~"
With that, I took a hold of one of the ropes and started climbing up. On my way up, I heard the whir of drone propellers coming from above and the 'Rescue Fairy' drone followed me. I reached the edge of the cliff and I saw the smiling face of MP40 as she greeted me,
"Guten abend, Miss M200. Take my hand."
I took her up on the offer and the aide-de-camp helped me up to the ground. That was when I finally saw where those powerful beams of light were coming from. Parked there near the ledge was a fleet of Griffin vehicles: twelve transport trucks and eight jeeps shining their headlights onto the Bug River.
There were five peculiar pink-haired figures who stood before that fleet of jeeps and trucks. The four figures on the sides stood stiffly at attention while the one in the center was folding her arms haughtily. The center figure then pointed to me and declared,
"I am not happy that I was defeated by a wartime automaton like you, Miss M200, but I will overlook your transgression for now. It seems we will be working together for now, at least."
"Eh…? Miss Negev?" I gasped, "How did you know?"
Negev smirked proudly as she showed me the earpiece she was wearing and revealed,
"I was listening to your conversation with the Subcommander. I'm a specialist, after all~!"
"Miss Negev…!"
Huh… it seemed the adjutant was a nicer person than she seemed after all.
While I was just about ready to let my guard down however, MP40 crept up on me from behind and grabbed me by the earlobe to pull me aside. She then whispered in a frigid, menacing voice,
"Negev-senpai may forgive you, but if you hurt Negev-senpai again - even Subcommander M14 won't be able to stop me… and you will wish that you were dead. Do you understand, Miss M200?"
For a brief moment, I saw a maniacal flare in the aide-de-camp's eyes when she looked into mine. What was scarier, however, was just how quickly she returned to her kindly smile. Absolutely terrified by what MP40 could possibly be capable of, I answered her stiffly,
"Y-yes, ma'am…"
While I was tensing up from MP40's barely veiled threat, one of the jeeps came forward and stopped near me. Through the windshield, I saw the odd handgun couple - Grizzly and Welrod - waving to me from inside the jeep.
Then, the passenger door swung open. The petite figure of Nagant hopped out of the jeep and then came rushing towards me as soon as her feet hit the ground. Nagant's red eyes were brimming with tears as she cried out,
"POTATO!"
Nagant leapt and caught me midair in an embrace. I hugged her back and choked on my own words,
"Babushka!"
Nagant's hat flew off her head and landed on the rough rocks by our feet. She then buried her face in my chest and wept, venting out all the contents of her heart all at once,
"Potato! I'm glad you're alright! I thought I wasn't ever going to see you again… but you're here! Thank goodness you're still here!"
I tightened my embrace of Nagant and reassured,
"It's okay, Babushka. I'm not going anywhere. I may have come from somewhere else once upon a time - but Brest Oblast is now my home… and I will do everything I can to protect it."
Nagant finally let go and wiped her tears as she remarked,
"I know you will, Potato. I heard your conversation on the radio too. You're growing up so fast..."
She then drew her revolver and showed it to me as she wore a proud smile,
"I will accompany you into the Newsroom too, Potato. After all, I don't need an Exception to walk into my own office, no? I'll make sure that you and that boy Jim restore the channel. And besides… if what I heard is true… then I've got a few words I want to say to Genevieve myself."
I nodded to Nagant and then picked up her hat from the ground. I gently dusted off her hat, gently laid it on her head and smiled back,
"I'll be counting on you, Babushka. We'll all face Geneiveve together."
With that, M14, WA and Ribeyrolles emerged from the nook below. Ribeyrolles and WA stepped aside while M14 went forward to face the dolls and the vehicles gathered before her. As the headlights were fixated on her, the Subcommander joined her hands behind her back and raised up her chest proudly as she addressed her troops,
"Station 56586, attention! This is our first true mission after the Unsavory Incident blew up our base. We are racing against time to stop our enemies from doing the same thing to Brest Oblast! If we don't stand up and break this chain of tragedies now - then who will?"
M14 took a moment to hold the golden crosshair pendant that she wore before she continued,
"That is why we expect you all to perform your duties with excellence tonight. I have already relayed our orders for the peacekeeping mission to Negev and your Echelon Captains… so we trust that the people of Brest Oblast are in safe hands. We've already lost our home once - we shall not lose it again!"
She then let go of the pendant, straightened up her posture and saluted the troops as she declared,
"So now, Operation Intervention has begun! Do us proud tonight, ladies! For the glory of Griffin!"
To Be Continued