l
-20-
"On your feet, Valkyrie. We're going outside the wire." A bag, heavy with equipment, landed on her stomach, and with a pained grunt Lind awoke and shoved the mo bag off her. She groaned, yet Mist was deaf to her moans. "Did I stutter, Valkyrie? Move your ass before I cut it off and feed it to the demons."
"I'm up!" Lind yelped and scrambled to her feet, hoisting the heavy bag onto one shoulder and stumbling under its weight. "Mist? What happened? We aren't due for a patrol for another three days."
"Firefight," Mist said. "Grab your weapons and med kit, we're providing support fire so Alpha Team can retreat. Comms coming in say two are critical. Let's move. The others are waiting on us."
Lind swore. "Are you fucking serious? We haven't seen a damn thing since we got here, and the demons choose now to spring a trap on us? It's a Yggdrasil-blessed holiday!"
"What better time to strike?" Mist replied. "Hurry up! Time's a wasting and folks are dying 'cause you aren't moving fast enough!"
"Stop exaggerating, Mist." The Valkyrie unzipped her Mo Bag, grabbing several items and stowing them on her person. In comparison to her standard load out on her first three patrols, she had relatively little gear on her. The lightweight white armor that was a Valkyrie's standard uniform while deployed and a large folding ax for easy transportation being the two main things. Water canteens were stowed in quick pockets made of small-room pocket dimensions littered on her right side, with her left side being reserved for last-resort explosives and gasses to help establish a safe route when things went south. A med kit at her back in case of injury, and an earpiece tuned to her flight's frequency for quick communications over a distance while in flight or combat.
"You done yet?" Mist asked impatiently, tapping her foot in a steady tempo.
"Yeah, yeah, let's go. Yggdrasil, you're hanging around the Sergeant too much. You get any saltier an' people are gonna whine you smell like the sea."
"Fuck you, Lind."
"Get in line," Lind retorted. "I'm still waiting for the Major to finish fucking me with security leader."
"Now who's the salty one?" Mist raised an eyebrow, and Lind contemplated the wisdom of dropping a grenade on the both of them right then and there. Reason won over, and with a scowl Lind joined Mist as the two of them departed the barracks.
Five minutes later found the small unit deploying outside the walls of the small FOB they were stationed at. With Sanngrior at the head, they headed south, using a long-dried riverbed as a compass to help keep them on route. They flew high, well above forty thousand feet and into the cloud deck where their uniforms helped mask them from sight. This high up the air was frigid in comparison to the heated desert below them, and for her part Lind was grateful she'd grown up in an arctic environment; Gunnr, her wingman, was so cold her teeth were chattering, and this with the elemental cloaks that came standard with the light-weight uniforms.
A voice screamed into Lind's headset, and the woman winced at the shrill quality it had undertaken. "Peregrine zero-one, this is Kestrel two-five, do you copy?" Looks like they'd finally entered the combat zone holding Team Alpha.
"Kestrel two-five, this is Peregrine zero-one, we have your frequency, over." The Sergeant had taken over comms while Sanngrior guided them towards their destination. "We are a five-Wing formation ready to cover your six. Currently five mike out requesting authentication. Please state the third letter of the word of the day."
"Whiskey!" The Kestrel25 shrieked. "We need immediate close air support and evac, we have three wings down, repeat, three wings down with six hostiles firing on our position!" Kestrel25 screamed. "We are pinned between three large dunes and some small bushes, do you see us?"
"Peregrine zero-one egress to MAC, third letter of the word of the day verified and burned," Rota replied. "Hang tight, Kestrel two-five, we're almost there."
"Hur-" There was an audible shriek over the comm device, and Lind wasn't the only person to flinch away from the shrill feedback. The only one who didn't flinch was Sanngrior, who began a slow descent out of the clouds, raising an arm and sweeping it down to signal her intent to Mist, who was leading the second echelon comprised of herself, Gunnr, and Lind. Mist followed the Major's example a minute later to maintain distance between Peregrine01 and Peregrine02, and then the three of them descended as well, following the commander's flight path down and into the valley below.
"Fucking hell," Gunnr moaned into the comm device, and Lind had to stop herself from voicing her agreement. Three dunes and a bush. The entire landscape was nothing but dunes and bushes, and this high up it was almost impossible to identify movement. "Could they get any more generic? It's like finding a needle in a haystack."
"If we don't find them soon, it'll be upgraded to a pincushion," Sanngrior snapped. "If you've got time to whine, than you've got time to search the ground. Maintain a twenty-five thousand foot altitude and start looking for bushes that look like Valkyries. Peregrine zero-two, monitor for magical assaults. If you catch so much as a whiff of demon, order us back up to forty-kay. I'm not taking any chances with this one."
"Roger, Wilco, Peregrine oh-one."
"Kestrel two-five this is Peregrine zero-one, do you copy?" Rota once more attempted to gain contact with the Valkyries in combat and got static in response. "Kestrel two-five, do you copy?"
More static, and then shouts. Screams. Someone had either kicked the comm piece in question or was attempting to reach out to their flight. There was a shriek that made the hair on the nape of Lind's neck prickle in alarm, and in her breast Spear Mint stirred with an anxiety so sudden and yet so strong that Lind pulled up. She hovered where she was, and a moment later the others did as well. Mist clutched her chest, face pale as she looked over her shoulder back at Lind and Gunnr, and the question on her face was clear: Did you feel that?
Lind nodded, and a few feet below her Gunnr wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Even the Major and Sergeant Rota stopped their descent, their body language alert and alarmed even with their backs turned towards the younger Valkyries. Sanngrior and Rota shared a look, and at the Major's nod Rota once more sent out a query. Kestrel two-five, do you copy? This is Peregrine zero-one. We're receiving strange feedback on our comms. What is your position? We needs coords to get eyes on target."
Static again, but at least that horrid shriek was gone now. "Kestrel two-five, do-"
"Help…" The voice that had first come over the comm link spoke up, no longer screaming but pleading. "Help…" Lind felt a shiver crawl up her spine in a manner both different and alike to the anxiety that had swept through her on her angel's behalf. Something about the tone was… wrong somehow. It was… flat, almost. The emotion was gone. The urgency was gone. It sounded somehow both defeated and desolate, dead of emotion and life all at the same time.
"Strife, are you hearing this?" Lind asked over a private comm, and her wingman looked up at her with worried eyes. "Is it a demon?"
"I don't know," Gunnr admitted. "I know it's starting to freak me out though. Let's make the call, Pepper. I'm getting the heebie-jeebies."
Lind nodded, about to call out to Peregrine01 when Rota made another call out. "Kestrel two-five, Peregrine zero-one, we read you and need to re-authenticate. What is the fifth letter of the word of the day?" It seemed that Rota was also catching Gunnr's 'heebie-jeebies' and wanted to make doubly sure they were still talking to a Valkyrie.
"Help…" Again the Valkyrie on the other end said in that flat, dead tone. "Help… Romeo… Help…"
Another shared look between Sanngrior and Rota. Lind watched the two of them carefully, heart racing in her chest. Were they actually going to consider descending further? Rota bared her teeth in a manner Lind recognized as an approaching argument, and Sanngrior shook her head. Not now, that head shake said. Any other time, but not now.
Rota set her jaw in a harsh grimace, staring at Sanngrior as though expecting the woman to change her mind, yet instead Sanngrior moved towards her, forcing the Valkyrie back. Rota scowled, and with reluctance spoke once more. "Kestrel two-five… fifth letter of the word of the day burned… and… verified." The woman glared at the major, who folded her arms over her chest expectantly. "Kestrel two-five… what is your position?"
"Help… North… by… two-five, six-three, nine-seven. East by… zero zero one, two one, three one… help.
The fighting's stopped, Lind realized. There's no more sounds of fighting. It's not just the voice. It's, it's the words. The lack of sound in the background. We should be hearing other people. Combat or the wounded or orders being shouted or something. But… there's nothing. Nothing but 'Help'.
Her eyes were drawn back to Peregrine01: the Major and the Sergeant, and found a look of consideration on Sanngrior's face. Oh Yggdrasil, please don't tell me we're actually going towards those coordinates. Please. Sanngrior spoke to Rota, Rota replied, yet they were far enough away that the words shared were lost in the breeze. They have to realize this is a trap of some kind. Sergeant please. I know you sense it too. Please tell the Major no. The Private shot a glance to her comrades under the callsign Peregrine02 and saw her own anxiety reflected on their faces. Mist and Gunnr didn't like this any more than Lind did.
Mist came up over comms. "Maybe if the Sergeant votes no, we can throw our lot in with her and convince the Major to call for reinforcements."
"I don't know, guys…" Gunnr came next, and the blonde's gaze was locked heavily on their leadership. "I don't think Major Sanngrior's going to back down from this one."
Lind joined the conversation as well. "Think if we come up on comms and voice our concerns it'll work? Major's always saying 'trust your gut', and I feel like I'm about to puke I'm so jittery right now."
"Standby…" Gunnr said. "It looks like they've come to a decision. Guys, I really don't like this. I'm no coward, but even I can tell when things are too peculiar to follow up on. I smell a trap."
"I think at this point we all do," Lind grumbled aloud. "The problem is convincing the Major the risk isn't worth the reward."
"Well, at least we can all breathe easily knowing that we'll be visiting the field at the end of the road together," Mist joked. "And think of it like this: death doesn't recognize rank, which means we can finally get back at the Major for all the years of training and drill."
"Fog?" Lind asked. In hostile territory outside the wire, they flight was required to call each other by their callsigns as a security procedure. It diminished enemy forces attempts at gaining Intelligence on the flight.
"Yes, Pepper?"
"Shut the fuck up. Some of us aren't ready to cross into the Fields of Resurrection yet."
"Peregrine zero-two, Peregrine zero-one," Rota's voice came up on the main comm, and Lind was spared whatever retort Mist was about to throw back at her. "New orders are to investigate passed coordinates by Kestrel two-five, over."
"Roger Peregrine zero-one, see encrypted comm," Mistreplied.
Over the comm link, Kestrel25 spoke up once more, "Peregrine zero-two, Peregrine zero-one… help…" Lind couldn't suppress a shudder at the voice.
"Sleet, Fog here, are we really going to investigate this? All of Peregrine zero-two thinks this is some sort of trap."
"We're aware, Fog." Sanngrior's voice came up instead of Rota's. "We don't like it either, but before initial comms went down there were Valkyries on the ground in combat. We're doing just as we told whatever 'Kestrel two-five' is on the other end of the comm: investigating the coordinates. We need to have an idea of what is actually going on, trap or none. It sounds like the demons have some sort of 'emulation frequency jamming' magic in their arsenal based off comms. Kestrel two-five seems limited to a set dialogue interlaced with repeated sentence structures that it's recording over unencrypted comms. So this is what we are going to do, Ladies: Strife, make a call back to the FOB. Pass on everything that has happened thus far over encrypted comms and inform them that our next location are the coordinates passed to us in case we go down. Rota, you have the coordinates, so ensure they're properly passed on to C2. Ensure they're aware that the coordinates don't match up with Kestrel two-five's last known location. Everyone else, have your weapons out on ingress. We are not going to engage unless necessary; this is purely for surveillance purposes only."
"Even if we see the real Kestrel two-five down there?"
"If there are demons down there equipped with air defense artillery, then yes. We aren't going on a suicide run, and if we're outnumbered and outgunned, then we pull back and inform higher headquarters of the situation. We proceed from here with caution, we keep Kestrel two-five live to monitor dialogue, and we observe what is at those coordinates. From this point on, all comms are over a secured link, understood?"
"Yes Ma'am," Mist said, and in her voice was echoed than anxiety shared by one and all.
XXX
The coordinates took them south, then veered east away from the dried riverbed and into larger, sloping dunes that cast long shadows upon the earth. Bushes began to form in small thickets of briar wherever the land was still solid, and thrice Gunnr called for them to pull up into the cloud deck. Each time was later revealed as nothing but bushes, yet despite the growing irritation with the false alarms, Lind found herself grateful nonetheless. Gunnr's six sense was sharp when it came to sensing others, and she wasn't the only one who couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched, or worse, stalked. Several times Lind had thought she'd seen something moving beneath them, dipping from one shadow to another under the cover of roaming tumbleweed and thick sandstorms, and it put her on edge.
They went on this way for close to twenty miles, and as they encroached on the passed coordinates, N25 63 97 E001 21 31, the flight grew more and more anxious. Gunnr now had a permanent scowl on her face, and Mist had taken to whistling to try and calm her nerves. It was a tune their entire flight was familiar with, but no one knew the words for: some song from an Asgard music band that had grown insanely popular to the point where there was even a small cult following in Midgard. Lind herself had taken to chewing on mint leaves; a technique Rota had shown her in her first weeks with the flight as a way to calm herself when she grew too overwhelmed. The mint worked to an extent, but the knowledge that her flight was literally flying into a possible ambush site still left her nerves screaming. The mint cleared her head, but did nothing to slow her racing heart.
They were only five miles out when the trap was sprung.
There was no warning, no indication, not even a hint that something was wrong. One moment they were flying their formations long and broad; Peregrine01 at the lead with a ten foot interval between Sanngrior and Rota, with Peregrine 02 fifty feet behind them holding similar intervals. Nothing below them but the heavy dunes with their lengthening shadows as the day pressed on. Nothing above them but the thick clouds that masked their presence against the sky. Kestrel25 hadn't spoken up since their last comm check five minutes prior, and as they'd drawn near the comms had been turned off to impede the possibility of radio static giving away their position.
The attack happened faster than Lind was able to follow. A shadow, the loud, audible sound of something tearing into flesh, and then Sergeant Rota's shrieks as she was torn-not shot, not dropped, not driven, but torn from the sky, a cruel weapon like that of a fish hook-or perhaps a harpoon-embedded in her left wing. The woman didn't so much drop as she was dragged to the ground, spiraling and fluttering like mad as she tried to reorient herself amidst the thorned weapon that pulled her down.
"Rota!" Sanngrior was after her without a second thought, wings folding tight against her body as she dove after the woman.
"Shit!" Mist swore. "Oh shit! Strife, send current coordinates to C2, Pepper, on my six, we're going after them!" Mist dove after the Major, and swallowing a lump in her throat Lind dove as well, wings almost flat against her shoulders as she launched herself after Peregrine01. Gunnr dove a moment later, and Lind was marginally aware of the woman speaking into her comm piece and wondering if she'd remembered to go secure or not.
It wouldn't have mattered either way. At ten thousand feet more black shadows, those same harpoons that had so easily torn into Rota, shot towards them. They came in a fast and near-constant barrage, an unending stream that promised pain and debilitation towards any in their path. Others would consider it luck that none aside from Rota were caught in the attack. Yet any one of the Valkyries in that small flight would have claimed it skill; a testament to the long days of training that Sanngrior put them through. Their only victim that day was Rota, and she the unlucky one to be caught off guard by the initial attack that gave the others enough forewarning to watch the ground.
With an almost eerie grace that came second nature to them, the pack of Valkyries maneuvered through the weapons. At times the shots went wide, and the women in question needed to maneuver not at all. Other times the weapons came so close as to clip a wing and steal some feathers, or to perhaps send a thrill of exhilaration-or perhaps it was fear mistaken for exhilaration-through Lind's chest as the wicked hooks came so close as to produce their own wind.
Regardless, they descended after their fallen kin with ease, and before Lind's feet even touched the ground Sanngrior was already barking orders. "Set up a perimeter!" Her voice rose like thunder above Rota's screams; the woman was in agony, even after the Major had cut through the steel cable tied to the hook. The cord, too, was a thing of nightmares; a synthetic rope covered in thorns and protruding burrs, promising additional damage towards anyone attempting to remove the cable from the hook it was tied to. Worse yet, there appeared to be some sort of grime covering it; a black sludge that looked thick and oily in the desert sun, and made Lind's stomach roll when she saw where black meshed with red on the injured white wing. Poison.
"Pepper! Blades up, eyes out!" Sanngrior screamed. "Find the direction those harpoons are firing from. Fog to Sleet-start treating that wound and cut off as much of that harpoon it as you can. Douse it in disinfectant and wrap what remains; we need to get her up off the ground and out of here ASAP. Strife, send word to C2 of downed flight Peregrine zero-one and zero-two. Make sure you pass on that our last known coordinates may be in the threat ring of an emulation jammer. They are not to trust any comms unless they have a visual to back up authentication. Consider all CSAR information compromised from here on out."
Lind scanned the horizon for signs of encroaching demon activity and spotted something at her two o-clock. She squinted, nervously adjusting her grip on the ax that had become her favored weapon of choice. The Valkyrie felt exposed and vulnerable on the ground, yet the idea of further aerial combat with those black fish hooks flying at her terrified her more. The activity was growing stronger along the horizon now, and Lind could just make out a battalion of demons racing towards them. Not on wings, not on the backs of beasts as they were so known for, but in a full-on sprint that spoke of an almost primal nature. "Durga, on my two, level with the ground," Lind announced. "Ten… fifteen?" Their movements made it difficult to get an accurate count. "Fifteen to twenty demons encroaching. Over half are in black plate armor of standard army personnel, the others in lighter, tan uniforms that might be SOF."
A howl rose from Rota, and against her better judgment Lind looked back at the woman. She regretted it at once; whatever poison that black tar was, it was fast-acting. Perhaps some new kind of chemical weapon red forces were developing that the Fighting Wings hadn't been privy to. The woman's flesh had taken on an ugly gray pallor to it, and the veins in the Sergeant's neck bulged beneath the skin, red and inflamed with an infection that hadn't existed before her fall. The Valkyrie's eyes were large in their sockets, and they rolled madly as Rota clawed at her throat.
Oh Yggdrasil, it's a CBRNE weapon. Lind's breath hitched up a notch. They didn't have CBRNE gear on them. No suits, no masks, no shots to administer in case of possible exposure… Fucking intel said nothing about goddamned CBRNE on the border. We're going to die a short and painful death because they never told us 'hey, bring your heavy gear, the demons are doing some funky shit on the border!'
Sanngrior caught her staring. "Eyes out Pepper!" she roared. "What's the ETA on those demons? How many klicks out?"
The Valkyrie looked back to the party of demons, her mouth dry. "F-Five klicks out," she stammered. Her ears strained back behind her, and she could hear Rota making a strange choking sound as she fought to breathe. The private bore her teeth in a grimace. "ETA ten minutes."
Sanngrior swore at her back. "Fog, pack the medical gear back up and take my weapon. We've got less than ten minutes to retreat and the skies are no longer friendly. Stow anything you can on your person and leave behind anything that slows you down. It's time for a ruck march. Pepper, update?"
"Eight klicks out."
"Good. Eyes in, all of you." Lind looked back over her shoulder. Sanngrior stood at the center of their small cluster, with Rota's slack and wheezing form draped over her shoulder. "We use the dunes for cover," she said. "Set fire to any brush you come across to help mask our presence initially-they know we're here already and they can see us just as easily as we see them, but the wind is in our favor and will blow the smoke towards them. We can use it for misdirection. Let's go."
With Sanngrior in the lead, they raced northwest, backtracking along the route they came and using the shadows of dunes for cover; those same shadows that demonic SOF had used to stalk them, if Lind were to guess. Even though Sanngrior had made it a habit of running them in full gear for up to one hundred miles at a time, it was still slow going. The sand was made of fine, golden grains that devoured their feet with every step, and it took twice the exertion to move through the loose grains as it did on solid terrain. The only advantage the sand gave them was the lack of a markable trail; the sand filled everything, including their footsteps as they trekked onwards, covering their lone visible trail as they pressed forward.
So long as their senses aren't as sharp as the rumors say. Lind thought, listening as her heart pounded in her chest and focusing on her breathing. It was preferable to the alternate; listening as whatever CBRNE material in Rota consumed her life. I hope those were just lies designed to discipline us: no creature can smell a Valkyrie covering her scent with the environment or identify her footsteps amidst a river's rapids. Not without aid from magic, right? And the sandstorms the Wasteland is so known for should create enough frequency noise that it interferes with any tracking spells. A vain hope, but one Lind took stock in nonetheless. She didn't want to dwell on the alternative.
Sanngrior disappeared around a low bend between two dunes, and in a single file formation Mist, Gunnr, and Lind trailed after. Lind, closing the rear, took one moment to set fire to a small cluster of tumbleweed that still had some green to it. The weeds rested in a small cluster close to fifty feet from their original line, and followed around a path of smaller dunes that was less hazardous than the trail Sanngrior was making for them. A quick spell ignited the branches, and just as quickly the small fire went out, leaving in its wake a heavy, black smoke that was quick to obscure everything in its presence. The smoke made Lind's eyes water, and she brought an arm to her face, trying to breathe through the sleeve of her blouse as she ran to catch up with the rest of her unit.
If she'd done it correctly, the smoke would mask not only their scent, but visuals as well by creating a smoke screen. That in addition to the more presentable trail would hopefully throw their trackers off course, even if only for a few minutes; every second counted now until the flight could either escape red forces or find a location to bunker down until rescue forces arrived.
Guarding herself as best as she could against the thick smoke, the woman charged around the bend in the dunes, blinking rapidly as tears gathered around her irritated eyes. Her head down, she didn't immediately realize the flight had come to a halt until she collided with Gunnr's back, causing the private to stumble forwards with a yelp.
Lind stopped, more confused than startled, and looked up.
Perhaps, under different circumstances, Lind would have observed the idea of bunkering down and using the smoke she'd created as cover before looking for some sort of concealment while waiting for enemy forces to pass her by. Perhaps she'd have gotten a stronger sense that something was not right, that the demons who were hunting them-their Stalkers that had tracked them to the ambush site-were in fact a different group of demons from their actual hunters. In another world, in another time, it might have been enough for Lind to stop and at the very least hesitate before rounding that low bend between the dunes, and perhaps with that she would have been spared the scene she'd quite literally run into.
Thrice. Three times they'd fallen into a trap. First by the coordinates passed by the false Kestrel25. Second by the ambush that had taken Rota to the ground, where they were all at once more vulnerable to enemy forces. And now the third time, by allowing themselves to believe that the demons at their back; that mix of Niflheimian Army and SOF, were their actual hunters.
They were just the hounds funneling them into the net.
A man, a demon, stood at the top of one of the taller dunes, his body a black silhouette against the painfully bright sky. He observed them in silence, and above his head close to thirty demons, all garbed like him in the yellows and tan uniform of Niflheimian desert SOF, hovered close to fifty feet above his head. They stared down at the Valkyries in a quiet so deafening it was chilling.
Lind brought her ax up, shifting into an immediate guard position before common sense even reached her. She felt the gazes of the thirty demons reach her and felt her heart race anew as fresh adrenaline surged through her veins. This is it, she thought, eyeing the many demons before her and picking out one that looked like a quick target. We fight. We fight until there's nothing left. At the Major's command, break formation, target the closest ones on the edge and keep your back to them. Four, maybe five if you're lucky, maybe more if you can take them off guard. None of them have weapons drawn, so-
"Lower your weapon, Pepper." Sanngrior's voice rang high and clear against the quiet.
Lind stiffened, then looked over the Major in astonishment. Yet Sanngrior's gaze was on the demon on the dune, and she spared not a glance towards the young private. "Put it down. We're surrounded. Any further actions are suicidal."
No. No way. No fucking way. "But-"
"That's an order, Private." Sanngrior didn't raise her voice, but the steel in her tone was unrelenting. "We're outnumbered one to six and one of our own in injured. Drop the weapon."
Lind stared at her commanding officer and felt, for the first time since becoming an acolyte for the Valkyrie's Fighting Wings, the first flames of rebellion and resentment towards her commander flair to life. For a brief moment she considered the act of disobeying; of throwing caution to the wind, of launching herself towards the man on the dune and at least taking him out, of going down in blaze of rebellious glory in a stubborn refusal to surrender to the Niflheimian forces before her.
And then Rota's breaths reached her ears. Weak and shallow as she tried to draw air. Those labored breaths that grew harder and harder to draw with every passing minute, and whose whole body shuddered against Sanngrior. In that moment, the Sergeant's words from before their deployment returned to Lind, and in her voice they echoed through Lind's mind: "A dead Valkyrie is useless to her living team mates. Keep your head down and eyes open. Our flight gained its reputation through its skill and caution in combat, not for its reckless abandon and full graveyard."
This is a fight we can't win, Lind realized. The Major knows it and so do the demons. That's why they haven't bothered to bring out their weapons. Even if we make it through these ones somehow… there are still the demons who bottlenecked us, and that doesn't take into consideration any possible deaths or injuries we would acquire. And Rota was poisoned by their weapons. A poison that was slowly killing her, and which in reality neither side wanted. Though they were still technically at war, the ceasefire was still in place and so too was the new doublet system introduced less than a century ago. If Rota died now, by a demon's hands, there was always the possibility that one of their own would die too.
Like the demon on the dune… Lind thought, and then gazed down at her axe. Snarling, she tossed it back behind her with all her might, watching with a grim satisfaction as three of the demons separated from the pack of thirty to retrieve the weapon. Outnumbered though they were, it seemed even Niflheimian military were still afraid of Fighting Wings flights. Certain though they were of their victory here amongst the flight, the demons still weren't taking too many chances.
The demon on the dune said something in his native tongue, and as one body the remaining demons descended, forming a loose circle around the Valkyries that cut off any second thoughts of escape. "You surrender than! This is good!" The man's voice was easily projected, though he stood high above the Valkyries in question. It was a gravelly noise; like a boulder exploding upon impact with a Valkyrie's fist. Deep, gravely, and a sound that rocked Lind to her core. In the years that followed, though she would remember him not, that sound would stay with her, and during training with her own young Valkyries she would suppress a shudder whenever a Valkyrie destroyed a boulder.
Now the owner of that voice tipped himself over the edge of the dune, moving to meet them in a sliding walk as the sand carried him down. "A smart Valkyrie. Remarkable. And one who shows concerns for her own flight as well. Due miracles never cease?"
Behind Sanngrior, Mist bristled at the insults. She bared her teeth and took a step forward, only to stop when the Major sent her a pointed look. The snarl became a grimace, and scowling at the demon, Mist looked away in favor of the demons watching them a good distance away. Out of striking range. Out of the range of melee weapons. But not out of ranged magical attacks. Only the Dune Demon moved closer, brave enough-or perhaps the proper phrase was arrogant enough-to approach the Valkyries that made the others in his platoon so nervous.
"We will offer your flight medicinal aid in exchange for your cooperation," he continued, speaking directly to Sanngrior without a second glance to the Valkyries behind her. "The demons who funneled you towards us have a medic in their pack with a species-neutral vaccine to help your injured soldier." He jutted his chin to Rota. "Am I correct in assuming you are the leader of this flight?"
"You are," Sanngrior replied. "Though per our ROEs, we are not allowed to disclose our rank or name to Niflheimian forces. Are you aware of this?"
"I am," he nodded. "May I have a name by which to call the mystery leader of the Valkyries who crossed into Niflheimian territory?"
"Nifl-this isn't demon land! This is the demilitarized zone!" Gunnr cried. "What the-"
"Silence, Strife," Sanngrior snapped. Gunnr flinched, but did as ordered, scowling at the Dune Demon before them. "I am called Durga by my flight. I would request the name of our captor as well."
The demon smiled, teeth that held fangs with them bright against his burnt-red skin. "Captain Cabatu Temo," he introduced. "Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Hell, the Niflheimian lands just past the DMZ. I hope you enjoy your stay." The smile on his face began to fade. "Because you'll be here for a long time."
They arrived at the compound inside an armored personnel carrier, bound in both physical and magical restraints. The demons were numerous; a mixture of men and women who watched them with dark, unkind expressions. The only exception made had been for Sergeant Rota, whom, true to Cabatu Temo's word, was immediately looked after by a Niflheimian medic who directed a surprising amount of snarls and curses towards the demon captain. A tiny woman with black skin and blonde hair done up in cornrows, who chose not to give her name to the small flight, her demeanor was firm and directive. While not completely fluent in Highkin, she was still understandable. The words she spoke were dismissive, but she cared for Rota just as much as she would have her own demons, and for that Lind was grateful. The woman even allowed Sanngrior to sit and observe her procedures, if only to ease the Valkyrie's mind and ensure further cooperation.
By the time they reached the internment facility, Rota was showing signs of improvement. Her breath came easier, and some color had returned to her ashen complexion, though her wing still caused her pain. For her wing the medic did nothing other than remove the weapon, and that was a procedure Lind could hear through the muffling hood the demons had placed over their heads. Soft as they were, Rota's screams were still enough to make her break out into a cold sweat, and though the APC was hot with the amount of personnel crammed inside, by the time they exited the vehicle Lind was chilled to the bone.
The events that filled those first twelve hours of confinement-processing, Rota would later mutter-were events that Lind would only ever be able to recall in short bursts: stripping in front of several female demons with her flight as the demons inspected them for any possible contraband that might have been snuck into the facility. One inspecting the uniforms for hidden pockets while the other checked every orifice on their bodies, leaving Lind humiliated and trembling with anger by the time they were allowed to dress once more. Being hooded and corralled through the facility in single file line like a herd of mules. Meeting another female demon-the medic from before, this time with an armed escort, who interrogated them all for medical history before departing once more. Placed in individual holding cells while they awaited individual interrogation. Being placed in a group holding cell to eat, and each time under the careful, scrutinizing gaze of Captian Cabatu Temo.
Of everyone else… of everything else, he was the one who stuck out the most in her mind.
Their first night in the facility he had them awoken and marched out of their individual cells. Lind didn't know what time it was; there were no clocks or windows to dictate time, but her internal clock screamed that it was early morning, possibly two or three AM. They were brought to a large, white room, bleary-eyed and exhausted, and were instructed to sit on the floor before a large desk with a lone office chair. Any other furniture had been removed from the area, but Lind recognized it as someone's office. The room smelled heavily of electronic devices and the heated liquid crystal that acted as a power source. The desk was large and extravagant; built of solid, umber wood that would not have been out of place in the Major's office back home. It was neat and tidy, with no stray papers or pieces of equipment lying about, but was instead decorated with small little gifts and knickknacks that seemed out of place in an internment facility. Seashell and bone pendants decorated the outside walls, and small charms made of fangs and claws hung from the large desk's overhead drawers.
A small chandelier made of tiny seashells dangled from the corner of the desk, and it was to this item that Lind's eyes were drawn to when Captian Cabatu Temo entered the room. The man entered with such stealth and silence that it was nerve wracking, or perhaps in reality it was the flight's combined exhaustion of the long and stressful day they'd gone through combined with the wariness of waking up at such an odd hour of the night that produced the illusion of stealth. Perhaps that had been his intent.
Regardless, the man must have stood in the doorwell observing them for at least five minutes. "Do you like it?" He'd caught Lind staring. "It was a gift from my hirtu." Lind started, then looked over to the door, blinking rapidly as she tried to focus on him. The man's uniform had changed from the yellow and tan desert combat uniform she'd first seen him in to a more formal dress uniform that was black with gold trim. "Tell me, do you know the significance of seashells?" he asked, walking past the small flight of silent Valkyries and taking a seat behind the desk. He looked down at them from where he sat, an easy smile that could have been mistaken for friendly on his face. "Niflheimian demons hold them in immense value. We are a landlocked world, and our rivers are few and far between, the underground wells even moreso. I have known demons who have never seen an ocean before in anything other than picture books, and to them a seashell is an item of almost mythic proportion." He leaned back in his chair, and pulled up a glass pitcher of water from beneath his desk.
"How much do you know of Niflheimian culture?" He pushed the pitcher to the side, then leaned forward in his seat, folding his hands together as he looked down at the flight of five. "Come on, I know they had to teach you something about we apparent 'savages', so speak up!" Despite the amiable nature of his tone, the man didn't smile, his eyes drifting from one Valkyrie to the next in slow consideration. He stopped on Mist. "You," he said. "Little Humming Bird. Do you know the significance of water to our people?"
Mist stared at him in silence and said nothing.
"Now, now, that's no way to act!" Cabatu exclaimed. "You were humming Help! by The Beatles! The medic heard it, the guards heard it, I heard it… you were so vocal, and yet now it seems a cat has stolen your tongue. Anything?" The man narrowed his eyes as Mist's continued silence. "…Nothing? Surely you must have something to say, here in the presence of your flight and your unit. I will not bite. I have no reason to harm you. I am simply attempting to have a conversation with my guests."
"If we're guests, why are we sitting on the floor?" Gunnr muttered under her breath, and like an arrow Cabatu brought his focus on her.
"Ah! One speaks!" he exclaimed. "A cat can only have so many tongues, is this not true?" Gunnr cringed and bore her teeth at the demon in a snarl. Cabatu ignored it. "You sit on the floor because you are like children: young and ignorant of your new world. Perhaps as you grow you will be offered chairs, but as you are like ignorant babes you shall be treated as ignorant babes… unless you can demonstrate what you know of our people."
The man watched Gunnr like a hawk, and the younger woman began to squirm beneath his gaze. "Has your leader not taught you anything of the people you war with? Of their likes? Their dislikes? Or does the Lady Durga prefer to keep her Valkyries in the dark on who they combat? Perhaps…" He drummed his fingers on the umber wood. "Perhaps, to you, we are little more than nameless faces. Creatures that hide behind masks and with frightening fangs and claws that make us out as beasts. Disassociation is the key to victory in times of war, after all."
"That's not true," Gunnr growled. "We're taught of your culture. Durga made sure of that." There was a note of pride in her voice, and once more Cabatu smiled. "You value seashells not just because you're a landlocked world, but also because of their connotation with water. Water is symbolic with life, resurrection, and rebirth because both flora and fauna depend on it to survival. Your people don't have easy access to water, and so you hold it and anything connected to it in high regards."
Cabatu laughed. "Marvelous!" he cried. "Come here, little Valkyrie. 'Life for you, water for your crops.' It is a saying of good will amongst our people, did you know that?" He waved Gunnr towards the table, yet the Valkyrie didn't move, reluctant and wary of ulterior motives. "Now now, none of that," Cabatu chided. "Lady Durga, send your youngling up so I may reward her. Such a display of knowledge should never be scoffed at."
Lind dared a glance at Gunnr beside her, who'd grown pale, then at Sanngrior, who eyed Cabatu with thin, pursed lips. Cabatu returned her gaze with a large, toothy smile that spoke more of a predator than anything friendly. For her part, Sanngrior's expression returned to the same neutral calm it had been since they'd been captured. "Strife," she said, speaking in a slow and even tone. "Approach the desk."
Gunnr looked at the Major as though she'd been stricken with madness, then looked back at Cabatu. She rose, movements proceeded with caution as she edged towards the desk. Lind watched her, no longer tired but alert; all of them were. The entire flight watched in painful anticipation, certain that what awaited Gunnr would bring pain yet all too aware of the armed guards who observed them with automated energy weapons at their sides. Any sudden movements was sure to draw their attention, and Lind was willing to bet they'd be shot down before they even had a chance to rise to their feet.
Cabatu reached under his desk, and next to Lind, Mist sucked in a sharp breath. Yet if he withdrew a weapon it was out of Lind's sight as Gunnr stood before him. She directed a look towards Mist, who caught her eyes and mouthed 'glass' from her own vantage point. Lind frowned, and as she directed her attention back to Gunnr, Cabatu placed the glass down on the desk and poured water into it. "Drink," he instructed, placing the pitcher back down and gesturing to the glass. "Water, for it is life. Life for you, water for your crops for the knowledge you shared with us."
He leaned back in his chair, nodding her on, and on the spot Gunnr took the offered glass. Lind leaned forward in nervous anticipation, and received a warning growl as one of the guards noticed her actions. The Private froze, torn, and watched as Gunnr drank from the glass, certain the water was poisoned or that Cabatu was about strike her while she was distracted. Yet nothing happened, and finished, Gunnr stood trembling before Cabatu, clutching the small glass with two hands.
"Would you like more?" Cabatu offered.
"No thank you." Gunnr's voice was quiet in the heavy silence. She placed the glass back on the table.
"Are you certain?" The man raised his brows in apparent concern. "This may be your only chance to sup on water for a long time yet. Best take your fill while it is offered, for the days will grow long and laborious. I cannot guarantee you water and food each day."
"I'm certain," Gunnr said in that same soft voice. "May I sit with the rest of my flight now?"
Cabatu stared at her queerly, then shrugged and raised his hand in a dismissive wave. "If that is your desire, then sit."
The Valkyrie was quick to retreat back to the others, and her face was red with emotion. Lind followed her with her eyes, wanting to say something to reassure her, yet found herself strangely mute. And now it seems a cat has stolen my tongue, she thought, but heard Cabatu voice the words in her head. She bit the inside of her cheek hard, tasted blood, and looked back to the demon before them.
The man was watching them with scrutinizing, intelligent black eyes, observing their reactions for several long and agonizing minutes. Then the man broke once more into a friendly smile. "Let us continue our talk," he said. "Water for the ones courageous enough to speak to the 'scary demon'. Cooperation shall be rewarded." The man leaned back in his chair, folding one leg on top of the other and propping the knee against desk. "There is a book amongst mortals. It is called the 'Divine Comedy', have you heard of it?" He looked between the five of them, and none of the Valkyries so much as twitched. "A good read, if a little dreary. Quite imaginative for the minds of their time. The author describes the renditions of where both the divine and demonic dwell, can you imagine? They call our world 'Hell'. Not 'Hel', like Helheim and the other dead lands, but Hell with two els. Queer, is it not?
"The author divides this strange land into three sections. Upper, middle, and lower, and from there divides it further into various rings. And the upper rings of hell, well, they are not that bad. Unending grief in a wasteland, forced to endure strong winds, caught up in a ceaseless storms of wind and hail. Bad, but nothing horrible. Not like the mid-levels. That's where things start getting good." Cabatu shifted his position, leaning forward in his chair and propping his elbows on the desk. "Midlevel brings combat. Ceaseless battles of bloodshed and violence against those cast into the same circle with you. Then the lower levels; locked away in burning stone coffins, boiling streams of blood to swim through. Fire that rains from the sky. Souls cast in perpetual flames and people stricken with unending ailments and illnesses. Men and woman flayed open from neck to groin. People cast and locked away in blocks of ice for eternity."
Cabatu bore his teeth. It held no humor nor good nature. It was a pure action of aggression. "And this is where mortal men believe demons hail from. A land of endless suffering and agony, governing those unfortunate souls who happen to fall into their circles. How cruel! They know us by name only and so lump us as beasts who delight in needless pain and torture. With such a fearsome reputation that proceeds us, it is no wonder so many races fear working with us. Mortal men fear us for they believe us filled with 'sin' and the deities that manage their lives hate us because they believe we are harborers of ill fates. A terrible reputation indeed."
He raised a hand as if in question. "So what better name for the lands across the DMZ, that first line of defense from encroaching deities, but Hell itself? 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here' and congratulations, as not only have you passed from the Wastelands into Hell, but you've stumbled into your own Seventh Circle."
"What do you mean?" Sanngrior dared to ask, and the demon before them rose to his feet, abandoning his position at his desk in favor of pacing in front of them, from the Major on one end to Lind on the other. He stared down at them all with a perpetual scowl, one that darkened and twisted his features into something cruel and menacing.
"It means, dear Lady," Cabatu said and his voice echoed in the large chamber, "That you have stumbled across Clandestine Base four-two-one-zero." He stopped in front of Mist and angled his body to face her. "What, my little Humming Bird, does the word 'clandestine' mean to you?"
Mist glared up at him from beneath her brows but offered him no reply. "Answer him, Fog." Gunnr's voice was a breath above a whisper next to Lind, and if not for the fact that the two were sitting next to each other, Lind wouldn't have heard it at all. "Answer him before he does something."
Yet Mist ignored the woman's whispers, and the look on her face was defiant. "Still nothing, Little Humming Bird?" he asked. "Or is the term unfamiliar to you?"
Nothing.
Cabatu paused and beheld the five of them, his expression stony. "Would anyone like to help her out?" He asked. Gunnr squirmed in her spot between Lind and Mist, and Lind reached out and grabbed her elbow when it looked like the Valkyrie was about to answer in Mist's place. Gunnr tensed, frozen, and then gradually leaned back against the wall they were against. Cabatu, as Lind would later discover, missed none of it.
The man sucked in a long and noisy breath, as though he was a man surrounded by fools and needed to calm himself in the presence of stupidity. As he released it, he said, "Let's try something else. A game, if you will." His eyes darted from Lind to Gunnr, Gunnr to Mist, Mist to Rota and Rota to Sanngrior. "Do you enjoy children's rhymes?" He looked to one of the guard at the door's threshold, then nodded him over. The guard moved to stand beside Cabatu, and the Niflheimian Captain looked back to the Valkyries. "You've got until the rhyme finishes to speak. It's a simple question. One that's common knowledge even amongst grunts like you, so I don't understand the reluctance to speak. Water for you, life for your crops. A simple thing, really." He pointed at Lind, and the Valkyrie felt her heart skip a beat. "Eeny," His finger darted to Gunnr, "Meeny," then Mist, "Miney," Rota. "Moe." Sanngrior. "Catch," Back to Rota, "A tiger," and so on, "By her toe. If she hollers let her go. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe." His finger paused, resting on Gunnr. The woman sucked in a sharp breath, and she scooted up against the wall as the guard looked her way.
He stopped, pausing to allow an opportunity for anyone to speak. Now the silence that filled the room was not one so much of rebellion but that of dread, one felt by demon and Valkyrie alike. "Still nothing?" he queried, then shrugged, and in a sudden and unprecedented rush continued his chant. "My Mummum told me to pick the very best one and you are it!" His finger landed on Rota, still injured, still with one wing out and bound in bandages and dressings. "Oh you poor, unfortunate soul," he tittered. "Your time here will be painful, but blessedly short. Smash her!"
Screams of protest rose as the guard moved towards Rota. At once the flight clustered around their injured comrade, hoping to dissuade the approaching act of violence, and were just as easily ignored as a magical discharge of energy flung them away from the Sergeant. Sanngrior was flung towards the door, and as she rose to her feet was instead brought to her knees as the remaining guard stabbed her in the back. Another discharge of energy surged from the demon's weapon, and the Major's body arced in painful spasms as electricity engulfed her form. Mist and Gunnr raced towards the sergeant as well, and were just as quickly brought down as once more the guard at Cabatu's side slammed his weapon into the ground with another magical discharge. Their shrieks joined Rota's own screams, and then Lind, her own voice surprising her, spoke loud and clear, "An operation sponsored or conducted by governmental departments or agencies in such a way as to assure secrecy or concealment! Now STOP!"
Cabatu raised a hand, signaling to the guards to stop, and the two demons raised their weapons. Energy still snapped and danced at the tips, ready and waiting. "Amazing what a bit of encouragement brings to the table, isn't it?" He was hailed by a series of soft moans from the stricken Valkyries. Rota was curled up against the wall, unconscious, next to Mist and Gunnr, the latter of which was wheezing. The guard next to Sanngrior grabbed the woman by the elbow and dragged her back to the others. She slid and slammed into the wall as he tossed her aside, then returned to his initial post as Sanngrior collapsed beside Rota.
Cabatu looked to Lind, who was the only one left standing amongst her flight. He approached her, and glared down at the woman from beneath a clean-shaven face. "Better, but not what I wanted," he said. "If I wanted a definition, I'd have you read it from a dictionary, Little Fighter. I asked what it means to you."
Lind stared at him, mouth agap, and Cabatu sighed in frustration. "Are your ears filled with wax?" He looked at her with a frown, and Lind could think of no way to respond. "Well?" he pressed. "Answer me. Is your head filled with holes? What does 'clandestine' mean to you. In layman's terms, if you will."
"It-it means this place is secret," Lind stammered, and her eyes darted from Cabatu to the guards, eyeing them nervously. "No one knows what's going on here." The punch that plowed into her cheek was strong enough to bring about stars, unexpected enough to knock her to the floor. The Private looked up, staring at Cabatu in confusion.
"Did I give you permission to look away from me?" the man growled, and in one swift motion kneeled, grabbed her blouse by the collar, and hoisted her back up to her feet. "When you are addressed by a soldier of Niflheim, you look them in the eye as a sign of respect, do you understand that?" He dragged her to a wall and pinned her there, snarling all the while. "I would have thought that even Valkyries knew better than to disrespect their superiors, yet you seem to be a bit of a problem child, aren't you? You just defined for me what covert means, not clandestine. Now riddle me this: What's the difference between a covert base and a clandestine base? Tell me. Right here, right now, or I kill the wounded one and maim the others."
"I don't know." Lind shook her head, and Cabatu narrowed his eyes. "I don't know!" she screamed. "I-you're hurting us-I can't, I can't think! I don't know! I don't remember!"
Cabatu growled, and the sound that emerged was deep, primal, and angry. Then he released her and stepped back. "Back with the others. On the ground. Now."
Lind rushed to do as ordered, not wanting to risk his wrath on either herself or the rest of her flight. Sanngrior, her breath heavy, was examining Rota, leaning the unconscious woman against her as she watched Cabatu with a black gaze.
"Children, all of you." Cabatu rubbed his brow as though it pained him. "Alright. You need to listen to what I say and listen very carefully." He came to lean against the front of his desk, folding his arms across his chest. "What I have asked you were all simple, innocent question. Questions that hold no relation to any sort of intelligence or deal with anything attributed to information gathering. Simple questions that even a mortal, stupid race they are, could answer without a second thought. Yet you chose to ignore them, and thus invoked my wrath at an early state."
He stared down at them, meeting first Sanngrior's eyes and then Lind's. "You are in a clandestine facility. Because the little axe-bringer does not seem to understand what that means, I will enlighten you: you no longer exist. This facility does not exist. The people within these walls do not exist. This is not a 'covert facility', where people know it exists but wonder what happens within its halls. We are on no roster. We have no official paycheck. We are not acknowledged by the public or private sectors."
"You have officially wandered into a territory that is 'off the grid'. Do not expect rescue forces to find you, for you no longer exist. Through me you pass into the city of woe. Through me you pass into eternal pain. Eternal and eternal you will endure. Abandon all hope, ye who enter, for your life has no meaning and less value than you believe, and death is but a passing grace into escape."
XXX
There was no further rest that day.
Nor food or water.
Instead, the flight was returned back to the cell block, though the cells they returned to made the initial rooms look like a resort in comparison. The they were crammed into their own individual holding pin that was more a crevice carved into stone than an actual cell block. They stood small at just under five feet, forcing all the Valkyries, Lind being the shortest at five foot, four inches, to stoop. The conditions were cramped, with little room to turn much less maneuver, and the idea of sitting became little more than a fleeting thought. The door, made of some kind of magically-reinforced metal, held no peep holes other than a small trapdoor near the top that was locked from the outside. It left those inside in a deep and impenetrable darkness, where no sound reached them nor left the confines of their tiny prison.
Yet even that could be handled, with enough exhaustion. Though her feet and legs grew numb from the constant standing, Lind could still angle herself to lean propped up against the cell door for a moment's respite. Inside the isolation chamber, there was little else she could do but sleep, for the waking world left her mind active, and that became a scary thing as the anticipation of further malevolence grew in her chest.
The cell was cold, though. So cold. There was no insulation, and with it, the cold bit deep. Her clothes could only do so much, and even that wasn't enough against the chill provided by stone walls and metal door. With it, Lind was awakened to a new misery, and one that left her wishing for Cabatu's smiling face and hating herself for it. She could feel the cold slip into her clothes and to her skin, biting and consuming every last shred of heat within her as her body shivered endlessly. It denied her the rest she so sought out, and instead left her fading in and out of a restless state of consciousness. Her body would shiver, burning up what meager energy reserves it held within, and for a brief moment Lind would feel a small bit of warmth; just enough for her to drift off before her body relaxed, slackened, and some new piece of her touched stone or metal. And then at once she would awaken, shivering anew, not quite 'warm' so much as 'less cold' from before, and the process would begin again. She forgot her thirst in that cell. She forgot her hunger, she forgot her fear and the teammates going through the exact same misery as her on either side of her and instead tasted bitter detestment towards herself and how she'd come into the current circumstances of her life.
By the time the doors opened anew and she fell out of the cell, the woman was almost delirious from the combined effects of hypothermia, malnutrition, and dehydration, and when her eyes hit the artificial light for what felt like the first time in ages, she screamed and tried to hide her face.
"Get up," someone growled at her, the Highkin they spoke thick and aggressive in her ears. "Stand. Walk." Lind tried to stand and faltered, her legs shooting painful pinpricks of numbness up all the way to her thighs. She gasped, fell, only to be caught by the female demon who'd come to retrieve her. "Stand," the demon repeated. "Move your legs. The blood must flow. Stand or I will drop you and drag you out."
Lind hissed in pain, but somehow managed to hold her own weight. She groaned, attempting a feeble step and sucking in a ragged breath when the pins and needles rose in greater flourish. The guard watched her for a while longer, and when Lind's steps grew more even she reached out and grabbed the Valkyrie by the upper arm. Lind looked at the hand gripping her, then followed it up to the woman, staring at her blankly. "Hood on," the guard growled, "Quickly, or I do it for you." She handed a familiar cloth to the Valkyrie, and Lind stared at it for a moment longer before sighing as her exhausted mind roused itself.
If I ever get out of this, she thought, I will never put another thing on my head. She placed the hood over her head, then held a hand out for the guard to grab. The woman grabbed her, and together they departed the area. They left the holding facility, Lind and her guard and no one else, and moved to another part of the building; one that took Lind through blessedly heated corridors that beeped and whined with the high pitch attributed with the biomagnetic crystals that powered so many machines on the tenth dimension. She was aware of eyes watching her as they moved, yet she heard neither footsteps nor voices as she passed. It made her skin break out in gooseflesh, though she was uncertain why.
When she was finally allowed to remove her hood, Lind found herself in a large, expansive white room. The first thing that she noticed was the smell; the room was rank with the scent of antiseptic, and it made her stomach lurch as the smell hit her nose. It smelled like someone had recently finished dousing everything, from the ceiling to the walls to the floor, with the most powerful cleaning solvent they could find on hand. At once a headache began to blossom in Lind's skull, and with a grimace she fought off the desire to clutch her head, refusing to give her guard or any other demons in the local area the pleasure of seeing her pain.
She looked around, squinting against the artificial glare presented by the white walls and the high lights. There was a mirror on the wall opposite the door she'd come through, and Lind recognized it as a mirrored window. The sight of it made her heart seize in her chest, certain that whatever was planned next would end badly on her behalf. As such, Lind wasn't certain if she was relieved or not to see other members of her flight guided into the room, one at a time, each with a different guard.
Rota was the first to enter, and her lips still had a blue tinge from her own session in the icepit of an isolation chamber. Of all of them, she looked the worst off; Rota, despite her pale complexion, hailed from a much warmer climate in the southern lands, and had openly admitted once that the cold was 'the bane of her existence'. The woman's skin, which normally held a healthy glow to it, had lost its luster, looking dry and cracked after the poor conditions of her cell. Yet if she was in any kind of pain or felt any of the weakness made so apparent on her skin, she showed none of it, walking tall and proud into the room and surveying it carefully when her hood was removed. Some of the ice in her gaze melted when she caught sight of Lind, who had to fight to hide her own relief at the sight of a familiar face.
"Pepper," she greeted, moving to join the younger woman as her guard joined Lind's own near the doorway. "Glad to see even an ice cube like you was affected by that nightmare."
"Glad to see you didn't become one, Sleet," Lind greeted in turn. Despite the hole in her wing, the woman seemed to have either caught her second wind or had been receiving enough medical attention to at least encourage healing. "How's the wing?"
"I'll live," she said, "Though I may see an early retirement when we get out of here. That shit they covered the harpoons with caused irreparable nerve damage, if I allow myself to believe what that hick of a medic says for truth."
Lind looked at her sharply. "Can you use it?" she asked.
Rota nodded, though her face was grim. "I'll be the last one out," she said. "I've been allowed to withdraw it back into my person, but it burns like a motherfucker. If we have an opportunity to escape, I'll be better use as a distraction than an escapee," she grumbled.
"Hey, don't talk like that," Lind protested.
Rota sent her a flat look. "Don't give me any lip, Pepper," she warned. "We need to look at our situation realistically, not idealistically. They targeted us on purpose. Maybe we weren't in 'Hell' yet while we were flying, but as soon as they fired on us, as soon as that damnable harpoon pierced my wing, I was a dead woman. They dragged us down to their side on purpose, knowing that as soon as we crossed the DMZ they'd have a reason to keep us, and maiming one of us slows the whole flight and keeps them grounded. They knew exactly what they were doing." Her eyes, a strange shade of pink like the sky at dawn, roved the area and paused on the mirrored window. "They're playing mind games with us. Do you understand that, Pepper?"
Lind looked at her but said nothing.
"Watch," Rota said. "The others will come. Some of them-maybe one, maybe all three, will be in better condition than us. One of them may be in an even worse state than me. Possibly Durga, since they know already she's our commanding officer. They want to divide the flight, Pepper. Breed dissent. Anger. Hate. Kill moral and you kill the flight. Kill the flight and you kill the will to fight. Desperation is what they're aiming for, and it's what they've been trying to instill in us since the moment we went down."
"I'm not sure I get what you're hinting at, Sleet."
Rota nodded. "Just keep it in mind," she said. "And keep in the flight. You start feeling any anger, any despair, don't direct it towards the flight. No matter how bad-or how good-things look for the others, remember that it's all stuff beyond our control. It's all stuff that goes back into the mind game and trying to pry us apart." She paused, thought a moment more, then said, "Remember, to them it's all a game. Especially Cabatu. He's the kind of man who delights in this kind of shit. Don't give him fuel. Don't give him ammunition."
"Yes, Ma'am," Lind mumbled.
The others began funneling in as more time passed. Mist was next, and she looked like how Lind felt upon exiting her small chamber. Her own guard hadn't been so kind as to allow the numbness to fade from her legs, and the Lance Corporal's trousers were scuffed from where she'd been dragged about. Gunnr came next, and true to Rota's warning appeared to be less abused than the rest of her flight. Unlike the rest of them, it appeared that she'd been allowed to bath. Her expression startled when she caught sight of the poor condition of the rest of her flight.
She jogged over to the others, heedless of the demons who watched her go. "You're here," she breathed on approach, and missed the scowl on Mist's face as the older Valkyrie took in her state of being. "All of you but-where's Durga?"
"They're probably bringing her last," Rota said. "What happened to you? Where did they take you?"
Gunnr shook her head. "No, I was with Durga. They moved us to a shared cell where they fed us and provided us water to bathe. Then the guards came and took her away before coming for me, I'm not sure, maybe... fifteen minutes later?" She looked at them all, eyes large like that of a child's. "Where were you guys? They separated us from the rest of the flight during the march back to our cells."
"Misery," Mist muttered.
"Don't start, Fog," Rota warned. "She can't control where they take us. Keep your anger for the demons." She looked back at Mist. "We've been in isolation since our last meeting with Cabatu. You were allowed food and water?"
Gunnr nodded, and Rota pursed her lips. "If you return to that place and they continue to feed you, ask about us. Press on the necessity of seeing us and ensuring we are fed as well. They must have seen an opening in you and are trying to exploit it, but we can still use that in our favor if you start making requests of them."
"But then they'll hold it over my head," Gunnr protested. "They'll try and get me to give out information."
Rota nodded. "So be vague. As vague as possible, but don't lie. They'll take anything you give them, then come to us to verify, and if they find out your lying, it won't look good for any of us. So be vague. Tell them you can't think of exact numbers because you're worried for our sake. You can't think because you've been told what they're doing to us and fear you'll be thrown into our lot as well. Milk them for resources as they try to milk you for information, and when all else fails play stupid."
"Will that really work though?" Lind asked.
"They are the ones who have to feed us and care for us in order to keep us alive," Rota reasoned. "They want us for something-information, possibly, but they won't get that if we're in such a weak state of being that we can't communicate with them. They know that, Cabatu knows that, and he's aware of the balancing game that comes with breaking us to where we speak, but not destroying us to where we scream what we think he wants to hear rather than what is fact. They have to work us down slowly, and we can use that if we keep the focus on the care of the unit, do you understand that?" She looked at the three of them: Lind, Gunnr, and Mist. Three low-tier Valkyries with little by ways of actual combat experience and who were all outside of their element. "Trust each other. Trust your leadership. But never trust the demons. No matter what they do, no matter what they say, kind or cruel or otherwise, never trust the demons. Do you understand me?"
"Yes Sleet," they chorused together, and with that there came an echoing warble as a door-a large, heavy door of the type to keep something larger and perhaps more dangerous than Valkyries-slammed shut behind them.
Mist jumped, and as one body the small flight turned to investigate the noise. There stood the female medic who had tended to Rota's wing, along with an entire process of armed guards that did not so much eye the Valkyries nervously as their surroundings, and Lind felt her heart sink.
"On the wall, all of you," the medic instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We are here for your angels."
A/N: Things are getting ready to seriously go south.
Comments of a Madwoman: A holiday treat from the Scarred Survivors team-two chapters for the price of one. Welcome to Hell: The Land of Entrapment. We hope you enjoy your stay.
