Chapter 19
Silent Running
Things were not going well.
Unconsciousness had begun to seem appealing. The sound of gravel crunching beneath his booted feet had become the rhythm that kept him going. He considered humming, but he didn't enough air for that, his trek across twenty miles had sucked up ever last breath he had. And stopping was out of the question, his orders prevented it, according to his schedule he was expected at his base in an hour.
Even though he was proud of himself for his high level of fitness and stamina, he had developed strong cramps in his side that would not go away, no matter what technique he used. He was sweating profusely, but he had stopped noticing it long ago. His uniform had begun to cling to his back, so he'd stripped to an undershirt and army pants, and put the rest in his small backpack.
When he got back it would all be worth it though. The message he'd delivered to Admiral Apollo had seemed quite important, surely that merited a promotion. It was about time anyway. Corporal, or even Captain Delson sounded much better than Private Delson. But none of that would ever happen if he didn't make it back to base in time though. So he put on one final burst of speed to make it over a rising hill, and to his surprise, only maybe ten minutes away, lay the camp! He'd hit the home stretch and was sure to make it.
Things were going well.
**
"General Sephiroth, we have an unidentified, running man approaching the camp. He appears to be a soldier, either Wutaian or Shinra, no uniform is visible.," reported the watchman over a small private radio next to the general's cot.
The general groggily brought himself from his slumber and slapped the radio as if it was an alarm clock. Delson must be back, but why the hell did he have to arrive at 0300? At least the watchmen hadn't recognized him, which was a good sign. For if no one knew he'd left, no one would know he'd returned.
So with one last moment of basking in the solace of sleep he burst out of the trap of sheets and sat up. Always ready Sephiroth wore his usual military uniform, minus the boots. But they weren't far from reach, poised for action they sat on the ground at the foot of his bed. With a quick tie of the laces, he was on his way down the road to the camp entrance.
Aside from the two men watching the road, all of the soldiers lay somewhat peacefully in their bunks, oblivious to the night's events.
Perfect.
He soon found himself at his destination; a small tent with a hole cut in it to look out at the field approaching the camp through. Upon his arrival the two men on duty saluted and further explained the situation.
"Sir he has not signaled us in any form. It appears that he may be with our army though." reported the first man.
"Although if he was he would have signaled us by now. All Shinra soldiers know the standard procedure." commented the second soldier on duty.
They were textbook soldiers, analyzing every possibility, and applying their knowledge to the situation. Yet at the moment Sephiroth found them completely unbearable to be in the presence of.
"You are dismissed for the night. I will handle the matter from here." he said sternly.
**
So close, but yet so far.
An ancient Terran man had said that, but at the moment he had trouble remembering who.
Ah well, all that mattered presently was that he was barely half a mile away from the camp; from safety, from water, rest and the ability to breathe. He knew that it was army protocol to tie the blue Shinra army issue bandana around your head when approaching a Shinra camp solo, but at the moment that was the last thing he cared about. Like the Greek runner from the Battle of Marathon he would not stop until he stood in front of General Sephiroth himself with the news.
The joints in his legs ached, his muscles seared with the uncontrollable force of lactic acid, and his bones felt as if they could break at any moment.
But still he continued.
Delson could see the watch tent now, a small light burning inside. He'd manned that post many times, though somehow it seemed so alien, almost dangerous. That did not deviate his mind from the mission though, not when he was so close to the end. As he drew closer the light in the tent grew brighter, more distinct, burning with unbridled fury and will.
At that moment his lungs reached their breaking points, and a deep pressure in his chest formed, as if it was ready to explode. So he ignored the lack of air and continued, his legs still pumping through some supernatural force. But suddenly a brand new pain erupted. It was worse than anything he had ever felt, a thousand fold sharper and harsher. It was centered in his left breast, but rapidly sent a wave of horridness through his whole body. The last thing he noticed was an immense feeling of his soul draining out through the hole in his chest; while in reality it was just blood.
With that the man who was Private Delson ceased to live, as the last drops of life drained from his body. From the sheer momentum it had generated from running, the body continued to move a few steps before crumpling to the ground.
The light in the tent went out.
**
Sephiroth quietly put the sniper rifle on the shelf in the watch tent, where it was kept in case of enemy issues. The two guards who had been on watch may have heard the commotion; but they would just assume their great general was dealing with some stinking Wutaian. It was the only way the situation could have gone, the private had known too much. By morning Sephiroth would have disposed of the body, and no one would ever know.
Just the way he liked it.
****
He had looked at so many documents through the night that he'd begun to develop a massive headache. He still wore his normal work suit, but he'd abandoned the jacket a few hours ago, and the tie had become loosened another hour after that. His hair had begun to stick up from him agitatedly running his hand through it countless times, and large bags had fully formed under his eyes.
Memos, reports, transfers, even requests for a new soda machine, he'd been through it all. And with only a small stack of papers left from Nairne's filing cabinet Rotterdam still had nothing. He rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and took a brief respite for a sip of coffee, but he was soon back at it. And after a few more meaningless documents he hit something that mad the whole night worth it. If someone quickly looked at it, they would never imagine such a simple thing had caused so many problems. Of course Rotterdam did not know that either at the moment, but he soon would.
The document was rather simple in it's request, three of Eclipse's pilots were to be transferred out of the squadron for an indefinite leave due to "combat shock". Yet something was not quite right with that. First off, those three pilots were the same three that had reportedly died in a training accident, the very next day. It was rather hard to that if one wasn't even with the squadron at the time.
So if they did not die in the training accident, where were they now? People did not disappear easily, especially not three of them. And so he moved to the next document, hoping to find more clues. The next few documents were routine updates and such, but he hit another important one soon.
This document showed Commander Nairne himself borrowing a freighter and traveling to a small Shinra air installation outside of Lircos, two days after the pilots' transfer. Nairne had returned the next day, but what had he been hauling? Squadron commanders didn't usually ferry around menial cargo for fun.
It just didn't fit, but although Rotterdam knew it wasn't right he didn't know why it was wrong. As he was finishing that thought, his eyes caught a date on the most recent document, April 12. A rather unimportant day, but the next day, April 13, he realized had been much more important. Yes, that day was important for many reasons, mainly one though.
The Lircos attack.
He remembered it well, the board meeting was the most memorable of it all though. Every Shinra executive had been present, even that kid, Winters, had been there. He'd given his firsthand account of it all, or something of the sort. As Rotterdam remembered it, Lircos had been razed by some Wutaian fighters, three according to the Winters kid.
Three…
No.
No, it wasn't possible, couldn't have happened.
Yet it had.
With a cry of excitement he slapped the polished the table, sending his half finished cup of coffee careening. Old Shinra had really done it this time, he'd planned it out so well, except for one blunder; leaving the files behind. And that had been all Rotterdam had needed to tear it wide open. Using some of Shinra's own pilots to destroy a Shinra town, blaming it on another, weaker, force, and declaring war on them. Pure genius some would say, pure evil Rotterdam said.
Now that he finally knew, Rotterdam felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But a new one had taken its place. What to do with the information? He couldn't just waltz up to the president's office and throw this in his face; a legion of Shinra guards would be upon him in a second. No, he had to investigate this further, maybe even enlist Reeve. He would certainly be interested to know the truth about the "training accident" that had destroyed one of his projects. As for Rotterdam, he knew what he had to do. He would not enjoy it in the slightest, but he had to do it if he wanted to strike the strongest blow to Shinra when the time came.
He was going to Lircos.
****
The man walked briskly down the airy tan corridor; his freshly polished boots making barely a sound through the thatched floor, while his uniform chafed against his sides somewhat uncomfortably. Although one thing about the uniform did not chafe, the rank of colonel sloppily sewn onto the chest.
Hearing Colonel Daegon would never get old.
Yet there was one job that went with colonel he did not particularly enjoy, training. As he had told Lord Godo upon his promotion, that Wutaian pilots were grossly untrained, it still held true to a degree. Over the past week he had seen drastic improvements though. All the pilots needed was a nudge in the right direction to get them going and they would be unstoppable.
And suddenly with a blast of sunlight he was on the airfield. Quickly donning his military style sunglasses he regained control over his environment. Control, the one thing necessary to run any kind of unit. He loved it.
Standing in front of him was Wutai's entire air force. Being only a few squadrons' worth of men with poorly made uniforms sewn by their wives and mothers they gave off the impression of easy prey. Yet they were the exact opposite, Daegon's tutelage had shaped them into solid pilots, with only a few bugs to be worked out.
"Good morning men, ready to fly?"
"Yes sir!" they shouted enthusiastically.
"Excellent, then get to your ships, today you are going to learn one of the last important lessons before you become full fledged pilots."
As the pilots ran to their fighters, Daegon sauntered over to his. He was most proud of his ship; it had gotten him through every battle in this war so far. He had just recently added a menacing lightning bolt along either side of the cockpit with some paint; his opponents should have something to remember as he shot them down.
Seeing that some pilots were already in the air he hopped into his fighter, and after a few preflight checks, took off. The sky was clear as could be, only a few puffy clouds off in the distance, perfect day for flying.
"Colonel Daegon sir, all units are up here, awaiting orders." reported an anonymous pilot.
He had told them that they would be learning something important today, yet he really had no idea what.
"Set weapons to paint projectiles."
Where he was going next, Daegon had no idea, but at least it was a start.
"Weapons set."
What now? Ah yes…
"Alright, today we are going to hone your skills and accuracy. With the paint projectiles you are going to be targeting your opponents' engines, because they are the most vulnerable spot on the fighter. Now you probably already knew that, and this is sounding quite easy right now. Let me make it harder. If any paint splatters anywhere but the engines then you are disqualified. The first five people that are disqualified have to clean all the ships. Go to it!"
There, that should keep them occupied for a bit. Within a few minutes it was all over, and Daegon had never had to do barely a thing. He loved his job.
****
Across the Wutaian plains over in the Shinra air force camp, Admiral Apollo was once again leading another boring mission briefing.
"We have recently learned of a strategically important, yet relatively unprotected Wutaian base that's been keeping a low profile so far. The army wants it gone, since it could attack them from the back when the time for an assault on the main Wutaian forces comes. But our recon shows that the Wutaians haven't realized its importance, since only a very small force is stationed there. So we're only sending in two squads, Eclipse and Phoenix, to take it out."
This sounds way too easy.
"What's the catch sir?" I asked.
Apollo seemed kind of annoyed.
"No catch, it will be a quick and easy victory for us." he beamed.
We were in the normal briefing tent, chairs lined up facing the admiral.
"You're always the pessimist Highwind." mumbled Nairne from my right.
And he's really one to talk.
"You're telling me that this doesn't sound just a little too good to be true." I retorted, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"I dunno what the hell it sounds like, but I know one thing. No matter what the odds are, I'm goin' in there and I'm killing as many of those damn Wutes as I can, even if I die trying."
That received mixed looks of approval and skepticism.
"Alright it doesn't matter how you feel about this mission, it is going to practically decide who wins this war, and so we are going through with it. We launch at 0400, get some rest." concluded Apollo.
As well all stood up Nairne quickly darted off and I looked over at Apollo, did he really feel so strongly about this? It just didn't feel right. But if even Nairne had no qualms against it then it was probably alright, the guy complained about everything.
Still…
****
Back in Wutai the reason for Cid's unease was coming to fruition. High above Wutai Lord Godo stood on his balcony, overlooking the land. He deeply loved the swaying grass, the trickling streams, even the formidable mountain Da Chou; they were all a part of Wutai.
Yet it seemed that soon they would all be scarred, tainted, by Shinra occupation. The enemy was continually advancing, whittling down Wutaian forces, and it seemed that there was no end in sight. Off in the distance he could see Colonel Daegon's paint fight going on, good, if the men got more training maybe they would survive a few more missions. But even that was not enough, they needed some hope, some chance, against the Shinra.
At that very moment, Staniv brought him that chance. With his black robes billowing slightly in the breeze he stepped out onto the balcony.
"Lord Godo
sir, I am sorry to disturb you, but we have just received some interesting news
form our 'friend with information'."
Ah yes, the new source. Godo
had been wondering if their anonymous friend would end up being worth anything.
"Go on…"
Staniv shifted slightly on his feet and produced a piece of paper from within the folds of his robes.
"I have recently learned of a planned Shinra attack on your southern military installation. It is to take place tomorrow, only two fighters squadrons and a small ground force are being sent."
Godo let out an approving grunt.
Staniv waited a moment, standing still and watching a crane fly gracefully overhead.
"I think we should go through with it sir."
"If the information is telling the truth then this could be very useful. Yet I wonder if it is some sort of trap." said Godo, turning around to face Staniv.
"Well sir, if it is a trap I do not think it is a very well orchestrated one. This seems like a profitable situation for us."
For a moment the Wutaian lord stared right into Staniv's eyes, but the other man was not unnerved.
"Summon Colonel Daegon."
"Sir do you really think he is necessary to this operation?" asked Staniv quickly, trying to cover his loathing of the fighter pilot.
Godo saw right through it.
"Of course he is necessary to the operation, he is the leader of our air force. Ah, General Staniv, it is not good practice in life to hold hate towards others. We should all try and coexist peacefully, although this war is making it rather hard. Besides, you do not even have a good reason." chastised Godo with a smirk.
Having nothing to say, the other man stared down at his boots as if he found them quite fascinating. Within five minutes Staniv had Daegon up in Lord Godo's office, high above the rest of the city, rivaling even the height of the large pagoda.
Godo occupied a small chair at the desk he never used, surrounded by all kinds of tapestries and peaceful fountains. Staniv had taken a tall stool with some sort of dragon carved into the legs, while Daegon was left standing. He had been informed of the impending mission, and had whole-heartedly approved.
"Sir this mission is the perfect chance to give my new pilots some real combat experience. Soon our forces could be invincible!" he shouted, stomping a foot into the thatched floor.
"Calm down Colonel, you will get your mission, but air support alone will not win this. General Staniv, dig up a company of foot soldiers somewhere, I don't care who it is, and send them to reinforce the base as soon as possible. Colonel Daegon, do what you will with your ships, I only request one thing."
"Sir?"
"Win this battle. God knows we need it."
****
A number of miles away, tucked into a somewhat hidden rock outcropping, lay a small city of tents. Unlike standard Shinra procedure, there was no watch posted, no attempt to camouflage the tents, no attempt to even stay awake. But these tents did not belong to Shinra. All of the soldiers lay in their bunks, sleeping lazily, and all of them wore Wutaian uniforms.
After a devastating battle, a once proud battalion had been reduced to a ragged company. The men did plan to make contact with their headquarters eventually, but for the moment they were content with sleeping right through the day.
No one was really in charge of the whole mess, but if one asked, the soldiers would direct you to the last tent in the line, which held the remnants of the once painted word "COMMAND" on the outside. The tent's occupant did not really acknowledge the fact that he was the leader of all 160 some odd men camped out with him, but somewhere in his mind he knew.
Major Podran was the laziest of all the men, he slept virtually the whole day and through the night. He was still getting over the loss of his former commander at the skirmish with the tanks in the village, and the burden of leadership. But he knew that if he ordered his men to hit Midgar tomorrow they would, but he had no such intentions. In fact he had no intentions at all.
He had his own tent, and had welcomed the space, although he had nothing to put in it. His real possessions were kept on his person at all times; a utility knife his dad had given him when he was younger, and a picture of his girlfriend. Although the latter was somewhat of a lost cause, he'd written to her many times, yet received no response. Ah well, life went on, albeit slowly.
But at that very moment, sometime around noon, when he was considering maybe turning over onto his left side, something broke his reticence. A call came over the company's radio unit that he'd stationed in his tent. He figured that he could just ignore it, but the static didn't stop, and the voice persisted.
"Wutaian command to Major Podran, this is General Staniv."
Hmm, general. Might be important.
With a slight shift he rolled out of his hammock and onto the floor. The radio persisted for a minute while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Eventually he brought his arm up to hit the reply button on the radio.
"Major Podran here." he slurred lethargically.
"Finally, Major where's your radioman?" demanded Staniv, irritated.
"Um, he's on vacation."
"Anyhow. What state is your company in?"
Podran refrained from saying "sleep" and thought about a better answer.
"In a couple of days we could be ready." he replied candidly.
"How about a couple of hours?"
Shit!
"That works too." replied Podran, quite awake now.
Staniv briefly explained the mission, and Podran confirmed his troop's involvement, with one last comment.
"You know I don't even think I have the right rank to lead a company." he said, desperately trying to get out of this mission.
"Neither do I, but you're going to anyway."
With a curt goodbye Podran burst out of his tent to rouse the company.
Not a soul was out, every single one of the soldiers was sleeping, or just being lazy. Going to each tent would take too long, but it was quiet enough that they might all hear him…
He cleared his throat, took in a large breath, and screamed at the top of his lungs.
"All right boys get your asses in gear, we move out in two hours, whether you're ready or not!"
Note – Sorry for the delay with the chapter, once again I just kind of got stuck in a couple of sections, and put it aside in favor of other things. Chapter 20 is close to halfway done, but I don't know when it will be up, since school is winding up and all. Thanks for reading though, and stick with it, the grand conclusion is nearing.
