0600 hours
At 100,000 ft above sea level...at one hundred thousand feet above the earth, the sky was wide open. As wide as it could ever hope to be.
Said sky wasn't even the familiar shades of sapphire, or arctic anymore-it had become a blend of cobalt and obsidian, with not even the slightest hint of clouds anywhere from horizon to horizon. For all intents and purposes, it might as well have been in outer space itself, with only the lack of stars giving that it wasn't away.
Aside from looking like and resembling the void of space itself, this altitude was about as deadly as there as well.
Even more so, to be truthful.
The air was frigid up here, at over 60 below. It was so cold, that thick sheets of ice crystals would form on any metal surface that ended up and then lingered this high. The sheer coldness of the atmosphere at this altitude would swiftly kill anybody who breathed it in for more than a few minutes, meeting a quick death via asphyxiation owing to how the oxygen content was so abysmally low, at more than 68% nitrogen. There was simply no O2 to be had up here...or at least, nowhere near enough of it to be breathable.
Any higher, and the ability of an air breathing craft would simply disappear. So thin would the skies be, that no conventionally powered jet turbine could bite deep enough to keep burning- there was nothing for it to feed on anymore. All that was around it, was the air that was essentially zero-gravity, and all that was underneath it was tens of miles to the ground, which was so distant that it has now barely recognizable as a fuzzy smudge of colors, patched over here and there by what sweeping carpets ( or towers of cumulonimbus " Anvil " storms ) of cottony white cloud cover happened to be present.
From all the way up here, you actually begin to see the curvature of the Earth itself. The horizon, bending around like the lens of a gargantuan magnifying glass, in a long and seemingly endless track out in both ways. All on its own, it had to be one of the most word-stealing sights anyone could ever see. Moreover, it was all the proof that anyone would need that the planet was, yes, a sphere. Or, round enough so that ships couldn't just sail literally off the end of it, contrary to some of the more outlandishly mistaken theories that existed. No, no they were wrong, as going to to such a lofty perch could so very easily prove.
Yet, as high as it was- for all the Polar chill, the staggering height, the lung-crushing lack of anything at all to breathe, and the vista ( 10 is better ) that was unrivaled in scope...there was still even higher to go.
Up where there was no oxygen, whatsoever- absolutely none. Where temperatures were over 200 below..where there wasn't a molecule of oxygen to be found. Just antimatter and vacuum. It was, in every sense, nearly as inhospitable as a DMV office..
...and where gravity had taken a hike.
Because, it was at the point beyond the Earth's atmosphere- beyond the Karman Line, the edge of the planet's atmosphere- where ATLAS maintained their most valuable, and unassailable base.
It was so, becasue it was beyond the reach of even the highest-flying SAM, or fighter craft. It was in a place where nobody could touch it; they could track it, but that was all they could do.
They couldn't assail this fortress. They could only observe it...
It was all they could do, against the floating fortress that ATLAS had named ..." Castle Vienna ".
" ATTENTION: ENTERING PRESSURIZED ENVIRONMENT "
Pretty telltale indicator right there...that said enough that they weren't on Garrison Base Whitehorse.
Even if you hadn't watched the Earth literally dropping away from you through the super-dense, tempered windows that provided a glimpse to the outside ( each of which was actually encapsulated within its own separate chamber so that in the event it was breached from the outside, there would be no pressure loss for anyone inside ), you'd still have no doubt that you were absolutely within the vast and unknown region some might be familiar with as being known as Outer Space, in all its starry, direction-less self.
Yeah, that was actually quite disorienting. If there wasn't the tether of the orbital to follow as you rode it along, Mitchell might've begun thinking he was upside down already ! It was so easy to become completely disoriented in space, and to lose your sense of which way was up or down when you were so high above terra that all you could see around you, in every direction, was pure sky- or in this case, the endless vacuum of outer space itself. Without anything to help keep you at all oriented, you'd be completely spatially lost before even 10 minutes had elapsed.
It was a whole higher level of a view on the world, in both literal and philosophical terms. Even if you'd ridden the tether a dozen times, each and every ride was an experience to remember.
And it was certainly not Mitchell's first. Not by a long shot.
The Marine just casually adjusted the way his pack hung from his shoulders, slightly pulling on one of the straps, as he stood awaiting the opening of the final portal dead ahead. All arrivals to Castle Vienna had to go through the same avenue of approach to go any further into the station, and it was the same for all who came aboard, no matter how high or low on the rank ladder they were.
It was a nice leveler; a humble floor sweeper, or all the way up to the head of the entire corporation, Mr. Johnathan Irons himself, went through the same exact route when they came up from Terra below. Wherever else they went once they arrived, they at least had to come up through here, and with that applicable to all, it was yet another reminder that ATLAS was a impeccably oiled machine that liked keeping its members very close of kin.
Like before we dropped on Seoul...except, even higher.
I doubt the current administration would spring for a station like this...or any one at all.
The sealed doors ahead of him slid open , smooth as melted butter via their hidden mechanisms, allowing further entry deeper into the vast expanse of the vertically and horizontally generous reaches of the adrift-in-the-void, even higher than where International Space Research Orbital ( ISRO, successor to the International Space Station ) was currently circling the Earth.
" ALL DISEMBARKED PERSONNEL: ACCESS GRANTED. "
Smoothly enunciating, despite very obviously an AI, the station's PA voice's gently urged them forward.
" Alright -step lively, squad ! Move ! "
Gideon's crisply snapped off command was barely completed, before his squad promptly began carrying it out. He was still in the lead, of course, but they were all right on his tail, and on his flanks, as the officer set off at a power stride with his own pack sitting snugly around his upper back and shoulders- in perfect keeping with ATLAS regulations, unsurprisingly.
Not that the others were slacking, though.
Ilona in particular. The jacked Slav woman was nearly outpacing him, along with the US Marine with the robotic left arm that was on her flank. Her own pack was scarcely even bobbing, so well secured it was beneath her arms and around her waist. Her brunette hair was tightly tied back into a triangular bun that hung down her neck, which did bob ( unlike the pack ) as she powered along.
Only Joker seemed to be more of a tourist than anyone else. The hillbilly was going at more of a sedate pace than the others, though as he was still in the ATLAS corp, he was actually keeping up with the squad, though in the same way as an airport porter would keep up with his client while shoving a full load of suitcases and other assorted luggage. Inexplicably, he wasn't completely getting left in the dust- in fact, he was actually still in the formation !
Somehow...
It would inevitably draw the attention of the others, the more he kept on gawking..
And...
" Joker ? Just take a photo- it'll last longer. "
..there it was.
Without even having to look at the Arkansas man, Mitchell still knew what he was up to: oogling the outside spectacle with all the wide-eyedness of a tourist from the southern reaches of Algeria visiting SeaWorld Orlando for the first time. The hick just couldn't help himself sometimes...
" You can't gape and walk at the same time-plus, you're going to just wander into the walls, someone's going to trip over you, and there's gonna be a barfight right here. How 'bout you actually watch where you're going , hm ? "
Its not going to do anything...but its fun taking a swing anyway.
And, he was proven right a second or so later...
" Hey- I grew up in the boonies of Arkansas, remember ? ", Joker defended his yet-again gawking, and with more grace than a redneck should display. " There wasn't much to look at day by there in that barn of a town, anyway. Don't act like you don't love watching the cosmos, either. "
" Congratulations ! You can actually from complete sentences, debil ! ", Ilona observed, being careful to ensure that Joker would hear the comment aimed for him.
There was probably a law in the bro-code that required Mitchell to speak up in Joker's defense, but in all honesty, it was more fun to just let the hillbilly take the momentary roasting, at least for a while. It was just so much fun, to have a front row seat to him getting a verbal drubbing ! How could the Marine put a stop to such a thing, even if he was so inclined ?
Which he wasn't. It was just such a tantalizing opportunity...and he could not let it go. Actually, that was written somewhere in the Men's Code as well...probably.
If it wasn't, then...Mitchell was now penning it. The Marine smirked, as the hillbilly loudly protested what was getting tossed at him.
" What the is this place- LaGuardia Airport ? That's just a bus station dressed as an airport, and you know it. That's all I ever got growing up in Arkansas...come on. Let me play a tourist when I get something better like this joint. "
" Heard that one before- you still sound like a flipping hick !"
" He is, Jack. We all know.."
" Yeah, well...he needed to be reminded. Sometimes."
" More like often. "
Another smirk emerged across Mitchell's mouth, as he both enjoyed the verbal artillery they were tossing at the Arkansas man, and while he anticipated what he might do or say to defend what " honor " he might ever have had.
Ha !
Overall, though, the hillbilly had more backbone than he might've been given credit for, because rather than just crumble like salt in hot water, he actually came up with a spirited shot-back.
" Keep it up...go on, keep it up. I still know how to use a MK88 MGL.. "
" Barely, you mudak. ", came a Slavic-accented riposte, which got a chuckle from Mitchell. He didn't even bother to clamp it down this time either.
I love you for that, Medovvy...
I do...
As the wave of amusement rolled over him, the Marine braced himself for the officer in command to bark some kind of reprimand on the spot for the extended bout of dabbing on one another that they were indulging in. It wasn't necessarily because Gideon was such a total hardass, but he was kind of obsessed about adherence to discipline and securing loose talk while on the clock...
...especially when in the field. Which they weren't, yes, but the other thing was still applicable, and there was a good chance he might object.
Waiting for it...
Waiting...
But...
" Keep up the pace, squad ! We're going straight ahead, and taking the barracks lift. That's elevator , yanks. "
Well, there it was, again. He was always thinking about the plan and schedule, and always doing so ahead of the others. Well, possibly not more than Ilona, though- she always seemed to be planning ahead for something. Which was sensible, to be fair.
Fastidious and detail oriented to a letter. Granted, though, he had to be. Someone on the squad had to be, and Mitchell was comfortable staying at the station he'd been so carefully placed within. He had enough leeway where he was, anyway...
Officers. Good to have 'em, but I like having sergeants.
Even Joker...!
Monologue mentally aside, though, he still had to acknowledge the command, so he promptly did so with a pitched-up, " Got it, sir. "
It was a response that was rapidly echoed by the others, thought not quite in unison.
" Yes, sir ! "
" Roger that, Captain.."
That was more than ok, though- the point was made regardless.
They were a fluid unit, this squad. Even Joker.
All the while they'd talked, they'd been seamlessly staying in formation as they cruised through the now-opened floor plan of the station deck they were currently on, having long ago left behind the confines of the space tether's northern terminus center.
On all sides, more ATLAS personnel were on their way into the station as the squad was doing...or, they were awaiting a slot on a downwards traveling tether car. The majority of them were dressed down in their jade green and sandy colored , multicam-patterned field uniforms ( informally known as " Fieldies " ), though a few were decked out in more formal service attire- the usual long sleeved blouse ( with the concealed securing clasps hidden behind the central seam ), complete with the dual chest pockets, and finished with the crisply sided slacks and deck shoes.
It had a semblance of the feel of a major airport back on Earth, with all the foot traffic that flowed, and the ones who were still idle. On the other hand though, needless to say, unlike at an airport, nobody around here was lugging around rolling carry-ons and backpacks, while tapping away at smartphone screens and flipping through the chapters of novels they'd bought at well above market value at a gate shop.
On the contrary, though everyone here was still relaxed and aware that they were not in imminent danger ( again, much like the teeming millions that were thronging Earth's airports right now ), they were also poised and moving with a sense of purpose. They were on the move, like they knew what and where they were going and that it mattered that they were doing so. They were on point, mentally, and they were, perhaps most of all, exhibiting a sense of being proud of who they were...
They were all, ATLAS. This station, for all its technological and technical achievements ( and it had much of both to boast ), it was the personnel who ran and were posted to it that actually gave it its value. They were, as collection of fighters and those who had the back of those who fought, some of the very best of their breed to be found from anywhere on Earth- disciplined, trained with precision and at length, and all to be the world's most accomplished military force of the past 70 years.
It was not a record obtained by any less than being a well oiled machine- one that worked across the world, and as was the case here, over 100 miles above it. No other armed force from the Earth could fully match them in both caliber of forces, and in the expenses spent of their hardware and arsenal.
Not even the USA. Not quite...not yet.
Case in point-the squad had finally arrived at their destination. Well, almost- it was closer to what would take them to their destination, rather than it itself.
And, they weren't walking, after all.
No, they'd be using a quicker way.
" Captain Emers, sir ! "
The conduit station guard- a young, cute woman that Mitchell recognized as Corporal Nicahz , from Colombia-came to attention as the squad strode up.
A45 handgun is neatly tucked away, perfectly holstered, the retired Leatherneck appraised.
dress cap is on straight...
Oh, and those above average cheekbones as well. That's always a plus...
The aforementioned corporal, meanwhile, lived up to her polished appearance, as she nodded a greeting to the others. " Taking the SCMT to Barracks Wing Zulu, sir ? "
Aha. Always on point. Mitchell was impressed again- Cpl. Nichaz always kept the details of what she needed to know up front and ready to utilize at a moment's notice. Out of all the times he'd come through Castle Vienna, she'd been posted at the Super-Conductive Maglev Train ( SCMT ) terminus that was the nearest to the orbital tether about 4 out of 5 of said times. The Colombian was fun to work with; easy on the eyes ( though, Mitchell would not ever say to Ilona, though he knew she was aware ), smart, and always switched on when it came to executing her responsibilities. Some would attempt to ( and actually had ) downplay them, claiming she was " just a gate guard ", only to find out quickly enough that she was actually ranking pretty high ( within the top 5 ) with the inter-station pistol competitions, who's results were regularly displayed on screens station wide.
That, and just leaving all on-staion functions to automated systems wasn't something Mr. Irons was comfortable with. Yes, it was true that the squad, to a member, had been already been subjected to full body scanning as soon as they'd walked under the overhang that loomed over the entrance to the terminus, with its cyan blue rays washing over their faces and bodies to confirm their Corporate ID tags, but having someone there to be a psychical backup/supplant to the digital systems was still a commendable move...even if it might be a tad quaint, in the current era...
But, it was good to have a purpose. Invaluable, even.
" Affirmative, Corporal. ", Gideon responded, all business, albeit with a cordial edge. He extended his right arm as he did, twisting it palm up to reveal the orange face of the officer's access wristband that marked him as Captain or higher.
" Zulu Squad, reporting per transfer orders to Barracks Zulu. "
God bless ATLAS tech. No need for papers; the wristband in question had everything on it that came with getting sent to a new duty station. Explicit authorization from command levels, date and time stamps and the exact location of where they were being relocated to. Everything needed to get the transferee from A to B...it was all in there.
Oh, the days when you actually needed real papers...now that was truly antiquated. For reading materials, yes, it was nice to have them, but otherwise...outdated had become the rule for most of the world, save for the handful of advanced countries that still existed- USA, Russia
Ironic, given what the KVA was so obsessed with destroying...
Bleep
" ...And, confirmed, sir. Transfer orders confirmed. You and your squad are cleared through to Zulu Barracks, sir. "
A quick scan was all that was needed to siphon all the bytes from one drive to another. Just like that, it was done, and Zulu Squad had the way opened up to them. It was like getting your things checked by their barcodes at your local Whole Foods.
It was done that quickly. No muss, no fuss, and quick as a blink, the whole squad was sped on their way.
God bless ATLAS tech. We're on top of the pile
" Roger that, Corporal. Carry on. "
" Yes, sir ! "
Taken care of. Mitchell couldn't give the engineering and staffing of this base enough credit
" Man, its like checking into a Marriot Inn back in Pine Bluff ", Joker nostalgically remarked. " At 3am on a Saturday, usually..."
" Many walks of shame on your record. I can tell. ", Ilona pounced on the opportunity.
Even without a rifle, she's still sniping..!
Just sweet. Sweet.
Somehow, the hick managed to cobble together a response ( as he was usually able to do ), and in his typical grassroots way- a shrug and a laconic line.
"...Can't all be rock stars, can we ? "
" You're right. Some of us are the floor cleaners at the stadium instead. Like you. "
" Geeez...you're a mean-"
" Ohhhh...don't say it, pal ", Mitchell warned, as another chuckle threatened to burst from his mouth. " Bad idea. "
His warning, however, proved unnecessary.
" Relax, Marine. I can handle the Arkansas Man. ", the Slav assured. " He's not much of one, anyway. "
" What's that supposed to mean ? "
" You figure it out, Hick. I think you can guess, though..."
The laugh that was building through Mitchell's chest and waiting to emerge from his lips did at last, though mostly as a huffing chuckle. As much as he'd willingly pull Joker out of harm's way if need be, that wouldn't stop him from using the Arkansas man as a verbal punching bag to his liking.
And there was a lot of that to go around.
" I bet you could, Joker. "
" I hate you, man. "
" I know.."
Once again, they'd slipped back into talking as they walked, and back to their usual rhythm. Gideon hardly partook all that much, but nor did he mind much either...
It wasn't a place where maximum focus was required, anyway. It was ok to let them get away with it.
Still, he had to keep shepherding them along...though, they were disciplined enough to not need much of it.
They left the gates in thier 6:00, proceeding on down a short, pebbled ramp and under more soft-but-apparent lights to where the SCMAGLEV tram platform was laid out, long and rectangular as a tennis court...only a tad more narrow.
" Mitchell ! You and Ilona take the left. Joker and I on the right.."
" Got it, sir. "
" Understood, Captain. "
" Sure thing, sir. "
In truth, it mattered hardly at all how they boarded the SCMAGLEV car, but their leader was nothing if not precise, and given to follow his own plan in lack of an official one. Which, here at least, involved arranging the squad in a certain way as they prepared to embark.
It went smoothly, of course; the SCMAGLEV cars were designed flawlessly for ergonomics and comfort, though without skimping on military utilitarianism.
Moreover, with the authorization data from Corporal Nichez, they could ride it without any hindrance. All they needed was feed it into the movable's reader, which ate it up, and read who was using it, and where they were going, not mention on who's orders. Much as the checkpoint operated, the use of the ID wristband was the key to getting them on their way.
And, it was quite a way to be getting going, as well.
With the swiftness provided by SCMAGLEV tech, they were soon at a cruising speed at over 200 mph. The acceleration from 0 to that clip happened quick enough to give everyone that " float-y " feeling that comes from a roller coaster hurtling down a slope at maximum speed...except there was no slope to be found anywhere near. The " nearest " one was all the way down on the surface of the Earth !
The sheer speed of the SCMAGLEV alone was enough to induce it...they were booking their way along now.
And, with the long way to the end of the outer ring, that speed was a blessing. Otherwise, without it, there would be a long drag to get there, of at least 15 or so minutes from the inner and central hub...home of the barracks, as the spinning motion of the overall Castle helped the gravity generators produce the necessary Earth level pull.
There were view-ports here, yes, but all they showed was the interior of the tunnel. Castle Vienna tended to minimize those where they weren't strictly needed, or where they could be forgone. The long spars that linked the central hub to the outer spoke were thick( c ) and wide, enough to allow dual lines headed each way...for both going and coming.
With such personnel capacity contained within the spars, they needed to be as strong as they could get...and that necessitated not having anything that would sap its strength where it didn't have the mass of a structure as the arrival hub, which was as wide as a soccer stadium, and thus could get away with it. The spars, though, as resilient as they were, still remained a vulnerability , and thus needed to stay whole. Carving holes in them for sweeping views wouldn't have done the former any favors
Still, it wasn't so bad. The lining of the SCMAG- conduit was ablaze with azure light, thrown off by the power lines that doubled to ignite lamps to keep the interior illuminated. With their lightning fast pace, though, said lights flickered, or seemed to, as the car shot past them. It was the kind of dazzling display you'd expect at a tropical resort's evening dinner party, except it was on a exceedingly high tech orbital military base.
On the other hand, nobody said that you couldn't mix function with style...even if it wasn't the stated goal.
" So, boss...", Joker spoke up, as they rocketed along, doing speeds that exceeded any highway limit by at least 3.
" That's ' Captain ' to you, Sergeant ' ". The officer was very quick on the trigger when it came to correctly speaking to a superior, and nor was it something he ever allowed someone to skate past on. " Or, ' sir '. Either will suffice. "
ATLAS. It still had standards, despite not being a nation by any offical standard-
...or was it ? The Mega-Corporation spanned many, many nations, and owned and operated vast bases and ports in all of them, not to mention its offical sub-companies that outright ran much if not the entirety of those nations' economies. It had nationals in its ranks from dozens of nations- the United States, Singapore, Brazil, Denmark, Canada, the United Republic of Ireland , Colombia, Chile, Mongolia...not to mention Spain and Portugal, plus Italy and Morocco, along with Israel and Oman..
It had a head of state: Mr Johnathan Irons himself, as the absolute ruler. It had its own laws, and rules for the conduct and discipline of its members. All of them ironclad, and expected to be dutifully followed.
And, ATLAS had a capital as well: The gargantuan, sweeping HQ complex that housed its main offices, and put the Pyramids of Giza to shame.
If it wasn't for the lack of defined borders
" Captain ? Is there anything you can tell us about the upcoming drop ? ", Joker asked, having now done his due to be adherent to living " by the book ".
" Any tidbits ? "
" For God's sake, Hicks... ". Mitchell scoffed.
He knew what the redneck was doing. Yes, the squad had been hauled up here on very short notice, that was true, having received the orders the day they rose the tether, but ATLAS didn't ever deploy their forces without ensuring they were well briefed. They always dropped plenty of intel on them ahead of time...
..which was something Joker knew as well as any of them. He may have been a goof, but he was an ATLAS goof.
Which would also mean he knew that ATLAS squads were weren't just shifted from duty station to duty station without cause. Said cause, of course, was more often than not that were going to get atmospherically dropped somewhere if their deployment was hastier than methodical, which theirs had been, yes, but even so..
Protocols. Protocols were always there, and for a reason.
" It can wait 'till the morning cycle, man. That's when they always are. Right, sir ?"
" Correct, Marine. ". Gideon nodded slightly, though with a decisive edge. " First briefing is set for 0900 hours next day cycle. "
" 0900, sir ? "
" That's correct, Sergeant 0900 You can wait till then for the finer points".
" Did you hear that, hick ?! ", Mitchell turned toward him, as the blue lights blazed by outside. " You're not gonna get that kind of thing in a transit car, ok ? You're like a kid on a field trip, geez. "
" Should've learned by now, Jack. He wants to be a perfect student, because he didn't graduate high school. Barely even finished elementary. ", Ilona needled.
Joker eloquently responded by flipping her off, prompting the Slav to chuckle deeply.
" Yeah...yeah, I am familiar with that. ", Mitchell assured her. He smiled, unable to resist the charm of the woman's laugh.
" As well you should be. "
For another minute or so, they rode along without any further conversation, as the blue lights danced and warbled , filling the inside of their car with its hypnotic display. The vibrations, subtle as they were from the SC-Magnets propping the car up via their super-chilled electromagnetic fields, permeated the inside of where they were, though all it did was induce a tingling sensation from toes to shoulder blades. It was comparable to a massage, actually- with a light show tossed in as a side dish.
Not a bad combo...
Not really. It could've been a long stretch and tube full of just dim spotlights on the ceiling, like riding through the longest tunnel on a stretch of freeway.
It was...it was actually more relaxing that Mitchell had anticipated it being the first time around. That had been quite a while ago, obviously, but every ride was as stimulating as the last. Between the way that the deck beneath him thrummed in response to its screeching top speed at the hands of the magnets, and the way the conduits outside cast their glow into the car, only for it to go away, and yet come back every second or so. They combined, to form a experience that was more than just a ride. It was...well, it was the second-most memorable commute that was possible aside from the tether ride all the way up to Castle Vienna itself. That, needless to say, topped the list...ascending into outer space quicker than a speeding F1 car...
...but, once you got there, you could still get struck by what the technical aptitude of the global PMC could provide.
If Mitchell'd had any doubt that ATLAS couldn't exceed anyone else's engineering or technological limits, Castle Vienna had proven that wrong. Nobody could match ATLAS...nobody.
They delivered. Every time...
With such technical dedication on his side, in addition to everything else..
God
My girl
My team
Company dollars
Mitchell leaned back, letting the vibrations do their work..
And, they did it well.
" YOU HAVE ARRIVED. RHINO SQUAD HAS ARRIVED AT BARRACKS ZULU. "
The comparison to a subway was not lost on anybody, certainly not the one Slav among them. More than once, she had lectured them on the splendors of the Moscow metro ( despite not being from there, she would doubtlessly be more familiar with them than the rest of them ), and how they were the deepest subway tunnels the world had ever known. Also the most elaborate...until ATLAS came along and performed their own modifications.
Or outright upgraded it with their own unmatched tech. Still, the Russians had built it first...so credit where was due.
" ALL EMBARKED: SECURE PERSONAL ARTICLES PRIOR TO STEPPING OFF "
More like an airliner alert, now that I think of it...
Or a combo of 'em both..
Regardless, Mitchell was already up. He was up and standing, the moment the car glided ever so smoothly to a perfectly ( computerized perfectly, of course. The entire line itself was run autonomously ) at its disembarkation point, accompanied by the audible dwindling whine of the SC magnets winding down as they successfully discharged their currents.
Light-years ahead, literally, of what had been achieved back during the prehistoric days of the 1880s...
As he rose, and checked his pack, Mitchell saw the others do the same. Ilona was beside him, needless to say, and she was up quick as well. Past her, Joker was now standing, along with their commander.
Everyone had their packs loaded up, and ready for hauling. They were squared up, and ready...
A perfectly oiled machine. Always had been...
God bless them.
" Squad ! Form up...on me ! ".
The doors slid open, and Gideon set off at a quick march, allowing the others to follow in a strayed out, but still cohesive formation.
Again, as at the tether Terminus, there was an abundance of personnel, idling or embarking/ disembarking as the squad had. And again, it strongly resembled the scene of a mega city subway station/airport, with cars arriving and leaving several times before a quarter hour was over, sliding their doors open and shut. disgorging and accepting more. Field packs were sitting by their owners, only to be lifted off the chilly deck and carried away as a car showed up at the station, ready to ferry more away.
" Happening as always, innit !? ", Joker observed. " Man, something major is going down. I called it..!"
" Sure you did, Mudak ". With a singsong taunt, Ilona called him out.
" Could be...". In a rare display of support, Mitchell spoke up.
" But you're not getting details here. Wait for the briefing...! "
" Can't a man ask questions...? "
Technically, yes, but as the Arkansas man wasn't as dense as he might've appeared , he fell quiet on the subject for the moment, though Mitchell knew he still had it in mind, as he jogged with the squad. He automatically drifted off to the left hand side of the group, which was his usual and assigned spot, as the unit progressed, leaving the transit cars behind them.
A near enough repeat of the way they'd come in, though...not quite, obviously. This was the barracks section, after all, and while the polished coverings of both the deck, ceilings, and walls were the same, the colors had changed...
Now, it was the " Candy Cane Land "- a red and white color scheme. No actual stripes, as that would be too gaudy, but it was still layered out geometrically, with the red general being laid out across the lower side, and the white on the upper.
Red and white...two of ATLAS's colors. THE two colors, actually. The ones that stood out the most, and carried its reputation the most.
Didn't matter, either, that the majority of those on Castle Vienna were ATLAS anyway: when you were the most advanced military force on Earth, you generally had the right to wave your own flag where you pleased.
Including your space fortress, if that even needed to be said.
They walked on, going all the way through the tram station, and as well through the arrangement area just before it. It wasn't as filled up as the platform, but nowhere near to being deserted either. This was Castle Vienna, after all...its could house thousands of personnel at any given time.
Particularly if there was a major op coming up quick...which there clearly was.
Joker still had a hankering for the finer points of it, but that could , and would have to, wait.
Not much longer, though...
They were past and away from the tram station, and were now coming to another stop in what lay beyond, which was, as Mitchell recalled from his numerous visits, the staging area ahead of the barrack quarters themselves.
Now they'd arrived..
At their destination for the next night.
Right on cue, Gideon brought the squad to a halt.
" Alright- squad ! Rally up. "
With a circling finer motion, Gideon organized them into a line formation, as per their normal operating procedure.
All the operators , true to form, knew where to stand. Joker, no to his surprise whatsoever, found that he was standing closer to the end of the line, with Mitchell on his left, and Ilona on the other side. There was no one reason for it, but rather a few: Mitchell tended to prefer putting himself between anyone and his girl, which the hillbilly secretly found it amusing, as the Slav looked like a pro UFC fighter , but he knew it was nothing hostile about it. The opposite had happened a few times, after all, and when it didn't, like here, the Hillbilly still expected the Marine to be a tad protective.
Nothing wrong with that.
And besides...the captain had more orders for them.
" Listen close..."
Pitching his voice up, the officer proceeded. " 0900. We're meeting in Briefing Room A4 at 0900, understand ? Anything you don't have done by then, won't be allowed to wait around ! I expect to see the lot of you in that room by 0900, and no later. Otherwise, I'll come in to drag you out by your ears. And by you, that means the one here from Arkansas ! "
That got a smirk from the Marine. There was just no end to the fun of taunting the hick, and there wouldn't ever be an end to it, either.
All in the culture, for sure. At least it wasn't coming from a DI...because they were utterly vicious. Utterly...
Like the long weeks spent at Paris Island...
What poets they were..
" I'll be there, sir. ", the aforementioned Arkansas man promised. " Count on it. "
" Count on it... "
" Count on it, sir ! "
" That's what I thought. "
Always a stickler..heh
As if overhearing that, and deliberately proving the point, Gideon went right ahead. " That goes for everyone. 0900, Briefing Room A4 on this deck. You know where it is. Understood ? "
" Roger that, sir ! "
" Understood, Captain. "
" Da, sir. "
Having received all the acknowledgments he needed, Gideon nodded crisply, before issuing his next order.
" Then, dismissed until then. Squad, fall out ! "
Doing as they'd been led, the line of ATLAS troopers dis-merged, and began to flow in different routes. Mitchell, needless to say, headed off toward the room that he always shared with Ilona whenever they were sent up to the Castle, kit bag bouncing off one shoulder.
Speaking of shoulders, the Slav was right by his right one...
And, she stayed right there, as they wove through the archway that led toward and through their
" We're going back, you know ", she remarked.
" Well, I am, at least. I don't think the USMC ever sent you there ? "
The Marine she was walking with couldn't lie, and so he didn't. "..True. They didn't. Nor has ATLAS..."
" Yet..."
Well, she was right about that. ATLAS, nor the USMC had sent Mitchell to where he was currently going to drop by the next dawn cycle. The former had sent him to many a nation across the planet that he had yet to have visited, but the current one he was going to wasn't one of them.
He'd been on missions- hot ones, mostly- on every continent save for Antarctica. Mitchell had flicked sweat off his forehead in the jungles of Panama, felt the biting-to- the-bone chill of the high Andes mountains of South America, and had
" But, now you will. ". Ilona's voice rose in pitch slightly, and there was an energy behind it. Like a plasma cannon on one of the new XA-900 Main Battle Tanks ATLAS was developing charging up...there was something about where they were going that held a borderline treasured meaning to her.
A place, that held unique significance...
And Mitchell, already knew where...
Bless the rains.
He was familiar with where she was referring to..
Mitchell knew.
He stopped abruptly, and turned toward the Slav. She'd stopped the second he did, easily mirroring his movements, and nearly tall enough to meet his eyes perfectly.
Mitchell focused on hers, as he asked what on the tip of his tongue. " It wasn't just place to you, was it ? "
" ..No ", came the response, delivered with all the methodical serenity of how she became when it was time to sight down on a distant target. Perfectly composed, and direct. No flinching from purpose, or clumsily delivered.
Like a huntress, reliving a past hunt. And...anticipating the next one.
" Not yet. "
" Have you..wanted to ? ", the Marine queried. " Was going back there ...high on your list ? Or was off that all the way ? "
"Honestly, Jack ? I don't think I ever left ".
The jade green orbs sparkled now, and with...what ? The Marine chastised himself for the umpteenth time for his inability to properly read women, even after being in a relationship with one for over a year. He'd gained some experience with it, sure, but it kept becoming clear to him, that he wasn't quite a master...yet.
No rookie, though. Not by much, but he wasn't.
Mitchell understood that sentiment. He completely did, and knew that she knew. Some places you held dear, and you couldn't separate yourself from the significance they had to you. They were...they were you. They became you, in more ways than one, and you secretly remained tied to it, forever.
The Marine smiled, and gently touched her cheek.
Her skin was softer than he might've expected if he didn't know better- tanned a bit by many hours under an African sun, and sanded by so much exposure
" Then, I am honored to accompany you back. "
" Honored to visit Rhodesia with you. "