Macbeth only had one moon: a barren ball of rock and silicates that sat in an elliptical, lazy orbit. It didn't have much in the way of noteworthiness; very little to mine or tap into, and only home to an automated navigation beacon, constantly on and broadcasting the orbital body's position to warn spacecraft of its position. Despite being a rather boring object, the sunlight it reflected back onto Macbeth's surface was enough for Sven to navigate by without relying on night vision.
Slowly and quietly, the shepherd crept through the shallow river, pistol held forward and ready to fire at a moment's notice. He couldn't use his rifle if he wanted to stay quiet, nor fire anything underwater; a plasma weapon couldn't effectively be suppressed, but the caseless pistols he and his fireteam kept as sidearms were perfect. The yellow glow of the sawmill's electric lighting cast wild shadows on the water, something he'd need to keep away from at all costs for the moment.
A good half of the mill had been built over the water, sitting on thick wooden posts supporting most of the buildings, docks, and connecting boardwalks stringing them all together. It was probably meant to take advantage of the current to cheaply move lumber further downstream, but now it gave the commando the perfect hidden crawlspace to reach just about any part of the compound he wanted. Each step brought him slowly closer, the water rising up to his chest as Sven got near enough to make out individual rebel troops standing on the wooden platforms.
-"Searchlight on that tower's coming 'round again, cap."- Xavier's voice came through his helmet, barely loud enough to be heard over the current. He looked to his right, spotting the beam of the mounted light starting to slowly pan towards his position in the water. Carefully, the dog submerged himself in the river, knowing the mud and silt that was constantly being kicked up would cover his body and prevent the light from seeing too deep.
Sven's murky view of the bottom of the river lit up as the light passed overhead, failing to spot the intruding commando. After everything went dark, he rose to the surface again, advancing forward and reaching one of the pillars in the dark.
-"Not gonna be able to cover you down there, Captain. My position's too elevated to see much further than where you are."-
"I'll be fine. Alert me if something happens that I can't see up top."
-"Acknowledged."-
Leaving the first wooden pillar behind, Sven started looking for a ladder up, otherwise he'd be forced to reach the bank and loop around back into the compound. Finding the structures overhead blocked most of his ambient light, Sven powered up his visor's night vision overlay with a simple input into the tacpad on the left arm of his suit. The world around him was bathed in green, amplifying what little amount of light reached down below a thousand times over.
Wading through the water to the next support, a female voice overhead dragged him out of his thoughts, muffled by the wooden planks its owner was standing on. It sounded young, energetic; not the voice of some hardened rebel Sven perhaps expected.
"-catch that guy that the General sent last night?"
There was a long pause before someone else above replied, a male, sounding close by.
"I guess. Heard something about someone, but I'm not usually on the night shift. Why?"
"Some creep, didn't look like he was local either. Freakishly tall canine, white fur, had some fancy armor and gear none of us have ever seen before."
"Uh… Venomian, maybe?"
"That's what he said, but I didn't think they ever had many dogs in their ranks."
Sven took a mental note as the two's overhead conversation continued on; he could afford to wait a bit longer, especially if they were going to spill intel like this.
"Well, what'd he do? Some inspector or whatever? Sounds like something Venom would have."
"More or less. Brought a truck along, sent some guys out into the woods with some crates. Never saw what's inside them but I'm guessing it's mines."
"Well shit, guess I won't be taking any midnight strolls anymore."
The soaked commando waited for the two to continue, instead catching the sounds of boots walking away on the wood. After about a minute of nothing, he keyed his helmet radio again.
"Xavier , just overheard something about Venomian support; looks I might've been right. Still feels off, though."
A few seconds flew by, with the sniper eventually answering back. -"Clarify?"-
"Caught wind about someone stopping by, said they were some Venomian officer, a canine oddly enough. Can't remember any dog getting a rank like that under them, and it seems kinda strange they'd send one if any of them survived the war."
-"...I think I might understand what you're getting at. You're not fully convinced this guy was Venomian?"-
"No, not quite. I'll keep moving on the tower; our objectives for tonight haven't changed though, maybe we'll figure out who our guest is, too."
-"Roger that, cap'."-
Sven supposed he was lucky he decided to take the river to infiltrate the compound with the presence of mines, but all it really meant for the moment was he'd need to take the same route to escape. Quietly, the dog waded to the next pillair, still looking for his ladder. The sounds of more boots above made him slow down, sinking his body lower in the water as they passed overhead. Whoever they belonged to didn't seem like they were in much of a hurry, giving Sven a bit more confidence that he hadn't been detected at all yet.
Looking around the next log pillar, Sven spotted the soaked rungs of an old metal ladder, leading up and out of sight.
"Bout' time…"
Holstering his pistol for the moment, the Fichinian reached over and began to climb up, looking at the platform where it led up to. He was almost at the top when the sound of more approaching footsteps made him fully alert; someone had stopped right at the top of the ladder. Sven held as still as he could, one hand slowly drifting down to his pistol just in case they got the idea to look over the edge. Whoever was at the top seemingly pulled out a lighter, judging by the flick of its flame being lit, and the long smokey puff of a cigarette being used afterwards floating into Sven's cone of vision.
"Of course."
Sven thought about cresting the top of the ladder and putting a few quick shots through the rebel's skull, but the blood stain on the wall he was probably leaning on would raise a few questions whenever the next one walked by. Would the camp really be put on alert if one or two didn't show up in the morning, though? Most of the insugrants didn't feel very professional; they might not even give it a second thought.
He would still need to time this correctly, though. Looking over his shoulder, Sven spotted the searchlight from before through the pillars, still panning left and right over the water. It looked slow enough, and the current would be strong enough too.
Drawing his pistol, Sven tapped the gun's composite frame on the metal of the ladder. The impact gave a small tink of metal-on-metal, nothing too loud, but enough to catch the smoker's attention. It didn't seem like one sound was enough, so Sven tapped the rungs a second time.
"Hmm?"
Walking over to the ladder, the rebel looked down, locking eyes with the commando on the ladder and almost jumping back by the sight.
"W-who the hell- AHHHHHHH!"
Screaming as his ankle was violently grabbed and pulled from under him, the dog completely lost his balance and fell, landing head-first into the water with a sizable splash. Sven hopped off the ladder, grabbing the rebel's neck and head and forcing it deep into the river, filling the canine's lungs full of a horrid mixture of mud and water. His arms flailed in a desperate but pointless struggle, failing to overpower the exosuit-clad Finchian before succumbing to the water and going limp one last time.
Sven's expression hadn't changed once throughout the ordeal, nor when he let go of the body, giving it a shove downriver after timing it with the searchlight's movement pattern; nobody would see the rebel's corpse float away in the dark.
-"Damn, Cap'. Remind me to never piss you off."-
He didn't reply, climbing back up the ladder and reaching the wooden boardwalk. Grabbing the rebel's weapon that had been left leaning on the wall, Sven chucked the blaster carbine into the river below, alongside the small lighter that had fallen next to it. This was all textbook to Sven at this point, and as far as he was concerned that rebel might've well just been another Venomian Remnants trooper.
Looking around, Sven found himself between two buildings where the ladder led off. It was a secluded, quiet spot, and probably why the late rebel chose to take his last smoke break there. He couldn't see the tower yet, so he picked a direction heading further towards the shore and crept forward down the alleyway, pistol held forward and ready. After a few seconds of walking, Sven reached a large, open storage yard. Designated spots on the floor were piled high with raw logs and cut lumber, each stack being at least twice his height.
His objective could be spotted now, too; the radio tower loomed overhead, built onto a concrete block for stability and held straight by cables, something that felt pretty standard no matter where Sven was deployed. Taking another look around before going forward again, his eyes spotted a patrolling insurgent, casually walking along the other side of the yard. Their rifle flashlight could easily be seen sweeping along the ground in a relaxed stance; not alert or aware of Sven in the slightest.
"Good."
Confident he was safe for now, Sven advanced forward into the yard, keeping his back to the piles and stacks as he got closer to the tower. Another flashlight caught the corner of his eye, giving the commando ample warning to hide behind something. Said something ended up being a parked forklift equipped to handle logs, but it was big enough to conceal his body behind its rear engine block. Slowly, the rebel strolled past, humming a tune to themselves that Sven didn't recognize. Still, he kept his pistol's sights aligned to the back of their head before they walked out of sight.
Standing up and quietly jogging along, Sven weaved his way between more lumber, slowly getting close to the radio tower. Climbing it without being spotted would be another issue, but he wouldn't worry about that for the moment. He ducked as another canine patrolled past, probably assigned to a mind-numbingly repetitive route around the yard for their night shift.
-"Got you on thermals, Cap. You're getting close to the tower, looks like there's a small building at its base; might wanna check there for an access port if their equipment is up to spec."- Xavier's rough voice kicked in over the radio.
Sven turned his gaze to the distant hilltop where his overwatch was stationed, only being able to see it through a gap in the buildings and the wood.
"Anyone inside you can see?"
-"At least two, though one looks a bit more official than the other, if his uniform is anything to go off."-
"I'll need a distraction. He's the one guy they'll notice if he disappears. Gotta get them out of that room."
-"I getcha… Give me a moment."-
The commando held his position, not having the same angle of view that his sniper had, and unable to see the two he was talking about. "What are you trying to do?"
Xavier didn't reply at first, probably getting windage and elevation for the shot he was no doubt about to take at something.
-"You'll know in just a sec. I don't know how long you'll have though."-
Sven grunted, legs starting to get slightly fatigued from being held in such an uncomfortable position behind some storage crates.
The entire compound was plunged into darkness all at once, with the previously light bathed storage yard now becoming free-range with Sven's night vision.
"What the hell did you do?"
Xavier chuckled. -"They've got a power line running away from the compound; I just downed one of their poles up in the hills. I saw backup generators though, you better hurry."-
Sven nodded, getting out of his hiding spot and starting to creep towards the tower again. He could see its base now, and the small building sitting next to it. "Building" might be giving it too much credit; it was more of two old shipping containers stacked on top of one another, the higher one with windows cut out. A small bundle of cables ran from it, wrapped and weaved into the tower and heading upwards to the top.
The door on the top container was pushed open as Sven got close, forcing him to hide again. Beams from rifle flashlights poked out, followed by footsteps and voices heading from the door and down the stairs. Sven spotted the officer that Xavier had seen, wearing a slightly-decorated camouflage uniform, with another standard rebel in tow.
"Looks like the goddamn powerline went out again, that's the third fuckin' time this month."
"Tree fell on it again or something?"
"It's either that, or a pole snapped. Get a team in one of the trucks, head up the road and check it out. The handhelds should be charged, grab one and report back once you figure out where the break is."
"Yessir," the trooper replied, saluting and running off.
"One problem out of the way," Sven grunted, peeking between the fuel drums he found himself hiding behind. Pulling out her lighter and another cigarette of their own, the officer stood at the bottom of the stairs, trying to cool her nerves with the drug.
The Fichinian reached down, wrapping his armored hand around a small rock. He knew this was rather stereotypical, but it had usually proven to be effective enough in his experience. Reeling back his arm, Sven aimed his geological distraction at the metal wall of another building, hoping the harsh noise would draw the officer's attention.
It silently sailed through the air, a fast backspin holding it up for longer before it slammed into the wall, making a loud thwack where it landed and falling back to the dirt.
"Hmm?" She turned around, cigarette still in her hand as the officer tried to peer through the dark to find the source. Either she decided she couldn't see well enough, or took the noise as a threat, responding by drawing her pistol and switching its small light on.
"Trying to fuck with me on my smoke break, huh?" she yelled at nothing, walking away from the stairs. It might've been funny to stick around and find out how far she'd go after being threatened by little more than a sound, but Sven had better things to do. He reached down, grabbing another rock and hurling it further in the direction the officer was already heading, creating the illusion there was someone around.
"Show yourself, asshole! You want me to accidentally shoot one of my own men again?"
Sven held back a chuckle, waiting for her to get a safe distance away before checking his surroundings and heading up the stairs.
"Well, aren't you jumpy?"
Leveling his pistol as he pushed the door open, Sven stepped inside the container. One wall had been entirely dedicated to radio equipment; a mix of old pre-war and newer models sat stacked up to the ceiling, being a mess of display screens, dials, switches and other various controls for long-range communication. Without any power none of it was on of course, but that wouldn't matter for this.
"Anna, I've reached their little comms room. You're gonna need to point me in the right direction. Some of this stuff looks older than I am."
The lemur's voice replaced Xavier's, now looking through his helmet's camera. -"Right, back up, I need to see all of it at once."-
Sven did so, getting the camera's field of view a good look of the entire setup and staying put before Anna finally replied.
-"Okay, everything in here is a mess and it makes me want to strangle whatever technician built it. Will work in our favor though. See the transceiver box up on the right? The old Cornerian army one. Olive green, cracked readout screen."-
The dog quickly located what she was talking about: a dented box about the size of a microwave, sitting on the top of the shelf with a few of its controls missing from the front.
"I see it. What about it?"
-"Grab it, pull it out and reach around the back; I need to see how truly FUBAR their system is."-
"Uh, right."
With a gingerly pull, Sven grabbed the device and brought it forwards, careful not to topple the rest of the wooden shelf everything else was sitting on. The back was a mess of cables, wires and other conduits he didn't recognize, but the sound of Anna's sigh over the radio told him enough.
-"Gods… Okay, I'll run this by you as simply as possible. The biggest cable: from what I can tell, it runs directly outside and up the tower. Unplug it from the back, then plug my device in the same connector."-
"Simple enough, I guess."
Sven shrugged, reaching into his chest rig and pulling out a small cylindrical device from a grenade pocket. It was no larger than his palm was wide, being packed full of electronics that he would probably never fully understand, knowing nothing about how Anna had put it together. Most of its size came from the two standardized plugs on either end, allowing him to yank out the cable and shove in Anna's contraption.
"Looks like it's in."
-"Good, now shove the cable into the other end. The bug should intercept anything coming and going from the tower once their power comes back, and send everything to my tacpad. There's a small explosive charge packed inside too; I can sever this entire outpost's comms on-command."-
"We still need to worry about their encryption, gonna take a quick look around," he commented, after reconnecting the cable and spotting a few file cabinets and a desk along the opposite wall.
-"Venomian-styled ones are a bitch to crack without anything to go on; you better find something I can use."-
He grunted, reaching down and pulling open the first drawer on the top. The thing was packed with loose, almost random files; whoever was normally stationed here wouldn't last a week working any Cornerian position, let alone at the ACI. Sven dug through, finding a mixture of inventory lists, cargo manifests, old records dated months ago and other useless bits of information. The second and third drawers held roughly the same results, but a thin, clean file laying flat on the bottom of the fourth caught his eye.
Picking up the folder, Sven opened up the fresh-looking piece of card paper. The fact it wasn't dotted with coffee stains and dirt told him it was a recent addition to the otherwise-ancient cabinet.
"Got something here," he mused, looking through its contents. Sven recognized the paper documents inside: old printed forms for filling out relevant encryption codes, Venomian ones. Oddly though, the lack of the usual pre-war codes he'd seen rebel groups and the remnants use puzzled him. Instead, lines and lines of mysterious, blocky characters filled in the blanks.
"...Anna, you recognize any of these? It's using Venomian documents, but I can't say I've seen these symbols before." Sven held up the paper to his camera, holding them still.
-"No, I can't say I do,"- she eventually replied. -"My first thought was older Venomian text or something obscure and native to Macbeth, but… No. No idea. Could be ancient Cerinian for all I know, but from what little I've seen they never used anything so angular or simple."-
"You'd be correct with that. I would know."
-"Right, forgot about that. I've saved what you've got there as images, maybe someone in one of our departments will know."-
Sven took that as his time to leave, quickly shoving the file back into the bottom drawer and closing it. He took one last look at the transceiver box he'd bugged, making sure he had shoved it back into roughly the same spot before leaving the room. Unless someone took a rather close look at the correct cable after pulling the right box out, everything looked just the same as he'd left it.
Still being able to use the power outage to his advantage, Sven worked his way outside and down the stairs. With the jumpy officer still nowhere to be found, the shepherd crept back into the compound's storage yard, starting to make his way back to his established safe exit point.
-"Ran those symbols though what databases I can access from here. Only matches I've gotten is with old carved Cerinian tablets; looks like they ran into those symbols too, least 100 years ago."- Anna's voice came through as Sven reached the ladder.
"Means they ain't Venomian," he replied, thinking. Venom's history of writing might've gone far back, but it wouldn't explain why, or how they ended up on Cerinia. The Cerinians didn't have much in the way of space travel, and Venom sounded like the last place they would choose to land if they did. It just seemed too far-fetched, even if the symbols originated from Venom at all.
"They find anything on it, or are we just as in the dark as they were?"
-"If the translated text is correct it seems like they figured out it's at least a language. It goes on about something that 'fell from the world above', and how a 'god was watching them, but not their own'. Dunno, you know the Cerinians better than I do; you tell me if there's any meaning to those words."-
Sven had reached the water as she finished, finding the body he'd left in the current earlier was long gone. "Those aren't just old tribal sayings, the Cerinians who wrote that could sense they were being watched by someone, all those years ago."
-"Couldn't that just have been old Corneria? Pretty sure a few of their probes landed there, all those years back."-
"It's possible. Don't feel that way, though. Doesn't explain the writing."
With the power out, there was no need to hide from the searchlight that previously scanned the river, and Sven was free to simply wade across, if quietly. Distant shouts and voices could still be heard from the base, alongside the sound of a vehicle starting up and driving off: presumably the truck with the team tasked to investigate the power line.
-"What are you suggesting, then?"-
The dog reached the other side of the river, turning around to get one last look at the base before he had to make the long walk back to the hilltop. Its lights had flickered back on just as he got out of the water, with the electrical hum of a backup generator somewhere inside now loud and audible.
"I don't know. Can't say I like it one bit, though."
Sven turned around, heading back into the woods for the kilometer-long stroll, still pondering what all of it could mean. Anna could very well be correct; she was right about Cornerian probes reaching Cerinia at some point or another, as the locals had actually documented a few landings and said writings had been recovered. The symbols were a complete anomaly, though. They held significance clearly, but there was a good chance it was nothing but a clever encryption method made by a rebel with a background in obscure linguistics.
"Doesn't matter what it is right now, just keep working on getting it readable."
-"I'll see what I can do. Oh, better hurry your ass up here, your food's getting cold."-
The flimsy stepladder wobbled under Noah's boots as he scaled the side of the tank, probably never going to get used to the fact its hull was a good head taller than he was. With a quick mantle move, he managed to flop his belly onto the deck near his position's hatch.
"Maybe you wanna ask for a hand next time, huh?" his CO teased, sitting down partly inside her own hatchway, opposite of the turret's main cannon. A large headset sat raised on her forehead, leaving no room for the hat she was usually keen on wearing. The device was truly massive; being wider than her head and almost longer than her muzzle, probably not designed for someone of her size if the straps that had she'd tightened as far as they would go were anything to judge by. Most of its bulk was taken up by a large screen, similar to those expensive virtual-reality headsets he'd seen being sold, and it functioned in a very similar manner.
"Still don't like wearing those things," Noah replied, dodging her initial question. "They're kinda neat, but I feel like we'll be blind inside the tank if something breaks, or gets shot out. I'd rather have some old periscopes."
Naomi chuckled. "What, were you a tanker at one point?"
"No, no… I've just had bad memories of electronics breaking down, way back when we were just a PMC. Few years back we ordered all these early thermal optics from a company on Corneria; us grunts got shorthanded, half the things didn't work out of their boxes, and the other half broke within a few weeks," the dog reminisced, not wanting to go over the entire story again.
"Shit, heard about that… Guess it just gives us another reason to hate em', right?"
Noah didn't really find much humor in the subject, but he couldn't say his CO was wrong either. "Yeah, just another reason…"
"Besides," the husky jokingly patted the tank's hull, "we've got this little force multiplier on our side, I don't think there's a fuckin' thing the Cornerians can do to stop it."
"I'd really wanna hope so."
The mechanical roar of engines turning over filled the bunker's subterranean motor pool, signaling that most of the convoy was preparing to finally leave. The two's tank sat in the center of what could generously be called an armor column: an inconsistent mix of stolen, salvaged, and otherwise semi-outdated military vehicles. Old CDF armored personnel carriers dating back to the Lylat war, sat clumped together with Venomian light tanks all stood idling now, their crews scrambling about the floor running last-minute supplies and hasty final equipment checks on their vehicles.
Taking the cue from everyone else, Noah and Naomi lowered themselves into the tank's interior, sealing both hatches above. Grabbing the headset he'd left on the wall earlier, Noah, designated as the vehicle's gunner, lowered the bulky device over his head and switched it on. With a few switch flicks later, the two felt the armored behemoth rumble to life beneath them. The gunner's headset screen blinked on, getting a direct video feed from the main weapon's sight currently pointed at the rear of the convoy's lead vehicle.
Naomi keyed her headset's radio. "This is Sledgehammer 1-1, all systems on Vengeance read green. We're ready to roll."
General Kagan's voice answered back, excited by the news. -"Excellent! You'll be sticking behind and following the lead vehicle until we reach the road, then you'll shift places with the trailing one. Provided we don't run into any interruptions, we'll reach our refueling point by noon tomorrow. After that, we'll be well in position within the hour. Remember; the entire ambush relies on your firepower, Sledgehammer, the rest of our vehicles will simply buy you time once the dogs roll out their AT. I'm calling in most of our air assets to keep the skies clear while you work, too."-
"Acknowledged, General. We'll be ready."
-"Good to hear it. One last thing for the moment; should we lose the rest of the convoy, you are ordered to take whatever action necessary to keep your vehicle out of Cornerian hands, for all our sakes. I struggle to begin to think about what would happen to us, considering our benefactors."-
"...I understand, sir."
Kagan didn't reply, probably busy with giving the other vehicles in the convoy their own orders. It wasn't long before the lead vehicle, an old CDF wheeled personnel carrier, pulled forward and headed for the long uphill tunnel that connected the surface to the motorpool. Naomi grabbed her joysticks, pushing both forward and putting the tank in gear, following closely behind.
"Vengeance? You've already named the tank?"
"Yeah, why not? I think it's fitting."
"...I guess I can think of worse names."
Noah received a light, if quick punch to his right arm from the driver. "Come on, lighten up a little. We're in a damn main battle tank, don't you remember how fun it was to slag those training targets in the sub-levels? Just think of those things being full of Cornerians."
He needed a second take after hearing that amount of bloodlust in her voice. "Since when were you this bloodthirsty?"
"Come on," she teased. "You don't want some revenge after what they did to us, to you? Back in that mine? You were in the infirmary for weeks with that fractured arm."
"I don't think the arm-"
"Doesn't matter what caused it; if they hadn't ambushed us none of that would've happened. Don't you think vaporizing some soulless Cornerian politician is good enough payback for who we lost- everything we lost?"
"Yeah, yeah, maybe." He finally conceded, but whether it was out of agreement or simply wanting her off his back, Noah wasn't sure of. "Still wish Kagan would try and revolve this more peacefully, though. Part of me thinks we're being pushed further into this war by our suppliers; they didn't give us this tank to win over hearts and minds."
"Seriously? You're still wanting to give peace a chance? Ever since the end of the war our rights as a private company have been stomped on by their regulatory bullshit, and you still want to roll over to Corneria as we're just given' an ace up our sleeves?" his driver snapped back. "I don't care much if the creep in the armor wants us to just terrorize the Cornerians; this is the start of something big, Noah. We know there's other groups there, Venomian remnants, pirates, hell even Star Wolf might see us doing this and think; 'huh, maybe we can make a difference!' Come on, don't you want something like that?"
"I- Alright, I see your point. Sorry, maybe I'm just tired," he finally got his chance to reply, giving her a half-truth. Noah held little trust for their benefactors, and this seemingly strategically-unsound operation didn't help dilute that.
"Good, I figured I'd get through."
Naomi weaved the large vehicle through the dark tunnels, pulling her seat's joysticks left and right with every turn; most of the passageways down below had collapsed from years of neglect, originally forming part of Andross's grand ambitions for a planet-wide military subterranean railway network connecting his bunkers. The war hadn't been kind to the system, and combined with years of neglect had led to a majority of the network collapsing, leaving what was left little more than an interesting, if dangerous spot for urban explorers and tourists.
Enough of the tunnels around the command bunker had remained intact for vehicles to reach the surface though, if one could memorize and navigate the maze left behind. Within another few minutes of quiet driving, Noah spotted their exit through the cannon's sight: a massive collapsed slab of concrete that had once been part of the tunnel's roof, now forming a steep ramp to the forest floor.
Downshifting, his CO crawled up the slope in first gear, killing the tank's headlights as their treads touched the narrow dirt trail that would eventually lead them to a more established gravel road. The entire convoy would be traveling with their lights off throughout the night, not wanting to give the Cornerian's any hint of what would be coming. Noah toggled the sight's night vision with a click of a joystick's button, getting a surprisingly clear view of the path ahead in a cold, blue overlay.
"Think you slept enough? We're gonna be driving for hours, and I'll need your aim for the morning."
"Y-yeah, going on my third cup of coffee and I packed a few more." Noah reached behind the seat, finding the small group of metal thermoses he'd filled to the brim. "Everything's there."
"Good, I think I might need one in a bit at this rate."
A set of old canine eyes gazed out the penthouse's window, watching the twinkling lights of the distant city glow in the night. The dog had been up for hours past the time he'd normally surrendered to the bed, simply not being able to fall asleep with his non-stop thoughts about what'd he be going through the very next day.
"Sir, please, you really should get some rest," one of his bodyguards broke the silence, standing in the doorway connecting the large bedroom with the rest of the estate. "We've taken all the precautions we can, you don't have anything to worry about."
The aging dog sighed, thinking about pulling out one of his few remaining cigarettes. "You've said that over and over again, Donald. All it does is make me worry more."
"...Sorry sir. But we're really doing everything we can; local police have shut down the highway to the public, and the CDF are keeping a few gunships and the Star Fox team on standby. We've had no word from CSOC on any insurrectionist movements, either," the armored canine replied, trying to reassure his client.
"Has my family made it off-world, at least?" Having Fox and his team around was at least a silver lining to him, but all the air cover in the world wouldn't help him if the insurrectionists took the first shot.
"Yes, Ambassador. Last I've heard they were well on their way back to Corneria at least a week ago, onboard a civilian starliner. I believe Pepper fully regrets not pulling you out sooner, sir."
"Hmm. Those words are meaningless now. Leave me, I'll get some sleep. Make sure that I'm not disturbed."
"Of course, Ambassador." His guard quietly left and closed the lavish wooden door, leaving the politician alone for what he hoped would be the rest of the night. Ambassador Lasker was one of the last of the few Cornerian politicians that had willingly stayed behind on Macbeth, hoping to de-escalate the situation with the insurrection. After it became clear the MIF's leader was refusing to do much in the way of talk, General Pepper had ordered everyone out of harm's way, before anything truly horrible could happen.
Eyeing his bed, the scruffy coyote considered actually sleeping before going through with his earlier thought. Pulling out one of his few smokes he seemed to always carry with him, it wasn't long before he took his first long drag.
"Everything will be fine," he reassured himself, going over the details one last time in his head; he'd be sitting in the back of an armored limousine tomorrow, surrounded by CDF on all sides, in the car and out. A small fleet of armored personnel carriers would follow his vehicle, with close air support on standby, and satellite surveillance following him at all times. Lasker had always preferred to fly, but the known presence of MIF surface-to-air missiles had kept any hope of getting an airlift to the spaceport grounded. Rail was beneath him, too.
"Well, at least this mess is the responsibility of Pepper and his successor now," Lasker mumbled to himself, taking another puff of his burning cigarette and flicking the ashes into a nearby trash bin. Walking over to his desk, he peered at the sidearm sitting on the table: something he'd be bringing along during the trip as a last line of defense, should it come down to that. Lasker hadn't served in any armed forces for long compared to his colleagues, but found himself to be a decent enough shot regardless.
"...As much good as it'd do," he scoffed, burying the thought he'd actually be able to make a difference with just a pistol. The coyote would be putting all his trust in his motorcade, not his aim.
Turning his attention back to the city, Lasker watched the lights twinkle again, hoping he'd never have to see them, let alone Macbeth ever again.
