Okay everyone, we're entering into George's first chapter. I hope you guys like the direction I go with the chapter, if so, please review and let me know how I can spice up the future chapters a bit.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 33: Lost Hope
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The first thing he was aware of was a heavy weight on his back. He tried to move but every joint in his body ached. His arms, legs, back, neck, all of it. He also had a headache that vaguely reminded him of the hangover he got when he'd first been commissioned. He managed to work through the pain and pull himself forward. He was in a sort of daze as if awake yet at the same time asleep. He crawled forward a few more inches but then collapsed exhausted and let sleep reclaim him.
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(A few hours later...)
(Wake up!)
He cringed at the sharp, snarling words in his head. They somehow made his head pound all the worse and made the ringing in his ears worse.
(WAKE UP!)
The words came again. This time more severe but also with an alarmed tone and...a hint of worry?
(George de Launces! You WILL wake up this moment or, by every descendant of mine ever born or hatched, I will force you awake!)
George heard the voice but this time his mind started working to place it...
He vaguely recalled a blue crystal in his youth, his father showing it to him, Josh, and Bertram and teaching them how to use it.
'This crystal is a spirit crystal. It allows you to contact the spirit world and speak with your ancestors. All you have to do, is hold the crystal, focus on it, and voila, you're there.'
George began to review his lineage and realized that only two of his ancestors had the power to use spirit gems.
"G-Grandfather Demeter...?" The voice snorted.
(Hmph. Close, but not quite. You're one generation off. Demeter, or rather, Retemed, was never taught how to use spirit gems...at least not until I spoke with him and taught him.)
"M-Malefor?" This time he heard a slight chuckle.
(Good. You remember me now. Your sister, Thera, felt something was amiss and implored me to seek your spirit out. Once I assertained that you were simply unconscious and not deceased, I endeavored to wake you. You've been sleeping for a good twelve hours now.)
George rubbed his head, then removed it when he felt something wet and gazed at his hand to see it covered in blood.
"I'm...injured?...How?" Malefor sighed and then started allowing more recent memories to flood into his mind.
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George watched as the huge machine creapt slowly forward. Sirens throughout the city were going off. Fires were everywhere on the wall and in the fields n front. Cannon shells from the tanks were firing at the reinforced gate trying to break through. He looked about to see if he could do anything but settled for helping the wounded get loaded aboard the Leopold M4s that served as medevacs for the Royal Army. As he shut the doors to the last one, he saw someone come up to him. It was the wall commander and he was worried.
"Captain de Launces, I must ask you to leave this to us and get yourself evacuated immediately." George looked at the commander like he was crazy and shook his head.
"Like hell I am. This is my post Commander and here is where I'm staying. This fight isn't over yet." The Commander grabbed him by his coat, something no officer, or anyone for that matter, had done before.
"It is for you. As of now, I am relieving you of your post, you are no longer an officer in the Royal Army, you are the Crown Prince of Syllia, the heir to the throne, and I'll be damned if I let you remain here to get killed. Now I know where I'm staying. I'll face my fate here. You however, have to leave, conscious or not." He then turned to look over his shoulder.
"Sergeant! Front and center!" The Sergeant came and saluted before seeing George, recognizing him, and hastily saluting him again.
"Sergeant, get a vehicle, I don't care what kind it is, and get His Highness out of here, now!" The Sergeant sputtered for a moment but then saluted and turned away and ran off for the motorpool at the wall garrison. George turned back to the Commander and began serious.
"Commander. Does this mean what I think it means?" The Commander nodded solumnly.
"Yes. The appearance of that superweapon has effectively put an end to our evacuations. We on the wall can't evac but some people may still be at the station. Get to the station, get on a train, and head for Royalis. Launces won't last much longer."
At that moment, there was an explosion in the distance and almost instantly the sirens stopped and the lights in the wall fort flickered as the backup generators came on. The Commander swore.
"Bastards got the hydroelectric plants on the lake and river. The whole city is running on the few remaining crystal energy and coal power plants in the Industrial sector and who knows how long they'll last. You have to get out of the city, sir. We'll hold here and keep the bastards occupied for as long as possible."
George nodded and then saw the Sergeant returning with a M4 medevac.
"Your Highness! This is the last vehicle and she's only got room for one more!" George nodded and climbed aboard the vehicle with the wounded. As the vehicle pulled away, he saw the garrison at attention and salute him as he closed the doors. Once the doors were shut, he took a seat next to a wounded soldier and wept silently.
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The memories returning sent a shock through George's body as if he'd been shot. Hos eyes wide in alarm.
"That's right! The...The wall...I was pulled off the wall and evacuated...but...then what...?" Malefor then released the next memories.
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The M4 that George was riding in was somewhere between the inner gate and the city proper when the evac order came through. He looked forward to the driver, the Sergeant, and frowned.
"Can't this thing go any faster?!" The Sergeant shook his head.
"I've already got it at full speed! There is a supercharger but if I activate it here, chances are we'll-"
He never finished the sentence as suddenly artillery shells began raining down all over them. The Sergeant swore and looked back.
"Everybody hang on!"
An artillery shell came down right beside the M4. It didn't pierce the armor but the force of the blast lifted the M4 up and flipped it onto it's side. George went flying inside it and landed hard against the hull, knocking himself out.
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George came up with a shock and nearly banged his head on the stretcher that had landed crossways in the hull of the M4. He looked around and gasped with dismay. Shrapnel had pierced the hull of the M4, riddling it with holes, and killing almost everyone inside the ATC. He gazed back to see what the weight was he had felt earlier and saw that it was the Sergeant, the man who had evac'd him from the wall. He had laid over him to shield him fro the worst of it. Malefor read his mind and George got the impression he was shaking his head.
(You're right about the human saving you but it wasn't that artillery shell. Rotarian soldiers heard the screams of the injured inside this vehicle and used it for target practice with armor piercing rifle shells. The Sergeamt sacrificed himself to give you a fighting chance. The others...they weren't so lucky. The man there on that stretcher above you, he bled out and died about ten minutes before I found you.)
"Could you have saved him?" Malefor sighed.
(I am a dragon, not a god. A purple dragon, if they are nearby, may use their mana to heal the wounded, if they know the right spells but alas, I have no physical form, and my mana is being used only on the crystal to locate and speak to you. So no, I couldn't have saved him. I couldn't have saved any of them. You, on the other claw, I still have a chance to save.)
"What do you mean...Gah!" George suddenly felt a sharp pain in his side and saw that blood had seeped through his uniform.
(Despite the man's efforts, a round still grazed you. It didn't hit anything vital but, you are in danger of bleeding out or infection if you don't get that looked at.)
"How? The city...the city's occupied, if I go anywhere in a Syllian uniform, the Rotarians will either kill me or take me prisoner."
(There is...another alternative...)
"What?" Malefor chuckled wryly.
(My mana may be used to locate you, but I still have enough to...manipulate more...simple minds. Nearby is someone I think will help you. She has a hound with her that is keeping a lookout for Rotarian soldiers while she searches the wreckage of vehicles and bodies.)
"A looter?"
(No. A rebel. She's part of a group that didn't evacuate but is not surrendering. I believe you humans call them...'partisans'.)
"Resistance...I had a feeling there would be some. Okay, how are you going to get her attention to look in here?"
(Like this...)
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Amber Locke had been the typical farmer's daughter. She knew how to raise animals, she knew how to grow crops, she knew how to work farm equipment, she also knew how to hunt and how to shoot. Most of the neighbors said she was a better shot than her father and should have applied to become a sharpshooter in the Royal Army. Yet, with her Mother sick and her Father having trouble with some bad harvests, she decided to put everything on hold in order to help them out.
The Rotarian Army had taken all that away.
The farm was gone, the livestock destroyed, the crops burned, and both her parents were dead, killed by a squad of soldiers who wanted to loot the house to see what valuables were there. All she had left was her dog, Rex. Rex was the dog she had hand raised from a puppy and she was sure he had some timberwolf in him but he was as docile as a newborn babe; unless someone threatened Amber or provoked him.
Amber gazed around the battlefield, stepping over Syllian and Rotarian bodies alike. She has a rucksack slung over her back and whenever she came across something interesting, she pick it up and place it in the rucksack.
To Amber, interesting things meant small arms, ammunition, medical supplies, maybe a few pieces of non descript merchandise from the dead Rotarian soldiers. Most of the merchants in town had been forced to close up show but still had contacts outside the city willing to trade for certain items.
For example, a first aid kit, if not needed, could be bartered for six C-Ration Kits. Basically, Contraband items were the new currency for an occupied city. Liquor, ammunition, weapons, medicine, were some of the more lucrative items although personal effects from looted bodies were worth something to someone. One of the more promising pieces she had found today was a solid gold pocketwatch she had found in a Rotarian Colonel's overcoat.
Still, she had standards, she was still a loyal Syllian and would not dare loot a Syllian soldier's body. However, she did always check to see if they had a letter home on their bodies and that the Royal Post would send them off to the addresses on the letters.
As she stooped over to pick up a bandoleer that still held several full magazines, she saw Rex start pawing the ground and whining, something he only did when he sensed something.
"Rex? What is it boy?"
In answer, Rex came towards an overturned M4 Medevac and started scratching at the hatch. Amber saw that the vehicle was riddled with holes and doubted anyone could still be alive in there. Still, it WAS a medevac, there could still be some intact supplies in there. Maybe sterile gause? Sterilizing alcohol? Painkillers? Antibiotics? Some surgical tools?
Amber grabbed the prybar from her hip and jammed it into the mechanism that lowered and raised the hatch and pulled on it as hard as she could. The door creaked and groaned for a moment until finally the mechanism gave way and the hatch swung open. Gazing inside, she saw several dead bodies but didn't see any intact medical kits and decided to turn away.
"Help me..."
Amber froze in her steps and turned, noticing for the first time she noticed movement under a stretcher. Quickly, she crawled over a body to the stretcher and heaved it and the corpse in it over to reveal a soldier, roughly about her age, maybe two years older, lying against the side of the vehicle. His had a gash on his head, and the side of his uniform was red from blood and he had a few cuts on his legs and arms but was still alive. Cautiously, she knelt down to him.
"Are you alright? Who are you?"
"I'm fine, except for this wound in my side. The Sergeant jumped in front of me when the Rotarians used the M4 for target practice. As for who I am...I'm..."
The soldier didn't say anymore as he slumped to his side. His chest was still moving which meant he was still alive. She turned to Rex.
"Rex, go back to the Mill and get help, I can't carry him back all the way by myself."
Rex gave a short bark, his way of telling her he understood, and took off like a shot through the tall grass.
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George opened his eyes and realized he was in the spirit realm. Before him stood Malefor as well as his Grandfather and uncles who had been killed during the Federation War when Launces was last occupied. Malefor was worried.
"You almost gave yourself away George." George shook his head irritatedly.
"Why? If she knew I was George de Launces, she would have..." He was stopped when his namesake, his uncle raised his hand to stop him.
"Most people believe that those of noble bearing tend to stay away from the fight. True, she may have given you the benefit of the doubt but then what? Your name would be on everyone's lips by the next day and the Rotarians would raze the city looking for you. Alive you give people hope, dead, you're a moral breaker. For now, use your middle name and a false last name. You'll keep out of trouble and, should anyone recognize you, they'll have the good sense to keep their mouths shut and not say anything until the time is right."
George nodded and then felt the dream state fade.
"W-What's happening?!" Malefor gazed into thin air and nodded.
"You're being taken to a medical station for the Resistance. Fear not, I'll tell Thera I didn't find anything but that I'm sure you're not dead. You're in occupied territory now George, you in the Resistance now."
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George came to the instant he was set down but kept his eyes shut. His side still pained him fiercely yet it was dull now. Around him his senses picked up several scents that were familiar yet, odd as they were all mixed together.
He smelled machine oil, used for lubrication of machinery parts. Flour, grain, wheat, fresh water, cooked fish. He also smelled gun oil, gunpowder, brass, lead, polished oak, steel. He also smelled antiseptic, alcohol, and several other scents including the scent that humans gave off when they were anxious, worried, or stressed out.
He groaned for a moment and slowly opened his eyes to find several men and women crowded around him, including a somewhat elderly man in a white doctor's coat. The man saw his eyes open and smiled softly.
"From what young Amber tells us, you've had a trying day lad. Now, before I try to treat that wound, I have to know who you are and where you were assigned. It was obvious you were being evac'd when the M4 was hit but your ID tags are missing and your uniform is in a sorry state. Now, to belay your fears, we are all Syllians here. However, survival demands that we be cautious of newcomers, especially those found in a shot up ATC filled with dead people yet one seemingly miraculous survivor." The doctor motioned to a large man holding a submachinegun who came forward.
"Your name Captain." George remembered what his uncle and Malefor told him so he thought fast.
"Nicholas...Nicholas Moore." The man nodded but otherwise gave no tells or clues.
"Where were you stationed?"
"I was on the outer wall. Battery Twelve. We...we were knocked out when that superweapon lobbed a shell that broke our barrel in half. Then it destroyed the Tower and my CO told us to evacuate. I was assigned to assist with the wounded and was on the last M4 to leave the wall before it was breached." The man nodded and then turned to the doctor.
"There were a lot new faces on the wall before the attack. I was on Battery Six and saw Twelve get hit. I think most of the new faces were just bunched up from whatever units survived Callen's Hill. So, Captain Moore, tell me what your original unit was."
"I was with the 412, the Iron Legion. I was part of the group that went to assist Callen's Hill but one of my crew forget to completely fuel the tank and we ran out of fuel on the way back after the retreat order was issued. Sheesh...I'd never seen Captain de Launces look so pissed before. Not just for the rookie mistake my crewman made but for the hurried retreat order."
The man nodded again. The group around seemingly relaxed.
"One more thing. I noticed a patch on your sleeve that seems off. If you were with the Iron Legion, why do you have a patch that says your with the 231st Artillery Corps.?"
"I was originally part of the 231st, but when I recieved my commission, I requested transfer to the Armored Corps. Don't get me wrong I liked being with the Earth Shakers but I wanted to be closer to the front. I don't like having people fight to keep me safe while I fight the enemy."
This time the man not just nodded, he outright smiled and turne dto the group.
"He's one of us. Only a Syllian Artilleryman could have known what the nickname of the 231st was. Doc, patch him up, he's had a rough day and would probably like something to drink and eat after you sew him up. Tell me Cap, when did you last eat?" George thought for a moment and then realized it had been a while.
"Not since breakfast yesterday. I don't need much, just a piece of bread and some jam and I'll be good." The man laughed.
"Now don't you go insulting our hospitality, Cap'n. We may be occupied but by no means are we hurting for supplies. We've got bread, milk, eggs, ham, jam, heck, Matilda, my wife over there, she can make you a breakfast that'll knock your socks off. She used to work at the castle serving the de Launces before war. Once our little Michael was born however, Lady Lysa insisted she stay home and Lord James actually reassigned me as manager for one of his facilities here in Launces, even promoted me so that I could supply my wife and son."
At that moment, the Doc came around and looked at George's face.
" Yes, yes Miles, you're proud to call yourself a Father and proud of the de Launces. Now then, that's a nasty cut there below your eye Cap'n. I can sew it up but I'll need to bandage it for a while so that it can heal properly. I'll give you a full physical once I get you sewed up and then you can have something to eat." George nodded.
"Thank you all. Actually, I would appreciate it if you didn't call me Captain anymore." The big man, Miles, turned aghast.
"Why's that sir?"
"As you said, Launces is occupied. Ranks and titles would just give the enemy targets. Maybe even give them ideas as to where to look for people's families and try to hold them hostage. So, from this moment, don't call me Captain anymore. Call me Nicholas or Nick, alright?" Miles stood there for a moment then nodded.
"Alright Nick, you have my word, no callin' you Captain until we drive these jackals out of our city. Now then, if you'll excuse me, I have to tally up what Amber was able to bring in today."
George saw Miles leave and then turned to the doctor who was preparing an anesthetic as well as a suture.
"Now I'm going to use this painkiller to knock you out. The larger wounds will take time to sew up but you'll need some bandaging for the multitude of small cuts you have."
George winced as the doctor inserted the needle but soon fell into unconciousness as the painkiller took effect.
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(Royalis)
Your Majesties,
It is with great sadness that I report that your son, Captain George Nicholas de Launces, has been listed as Killed In Action. His ID Tags were found near an artillery damaged Leopold M4 near the Launces South Gate.
Despite the efforts of Rotarian Medics to save his life, Captain de Launces succumbed to his wounds in the triage unit.
Despite the fact that our nations are on opposite sides in this conflict, please accept my sincerest apologies on this matter and rest assured, the men who took that hastily aimed shot will be punished to the fullest extent of the law.
I shall endeavor to have the body returned to you as soon as possible.
Sincerely,
Otto Mechanos, Emperor or the Rotarian Empire.
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James read the letter aloud to the Royal Assembly. All around people scowled angrily and dragons hissed. Lysa had recieved the letter and had locked herself in their chambers and demanded to be left alone. She had even hissed at James when he tried to enter, something she had never done before.
He crumpled the letter up and looked about the room, his face a mask of profound rage.
"This man...he claims the death of my eldest son was an 'accident'. He even has the gall to include photos of the M4 in question, along with his ID tags, and that the body will be returned to us as soon as possible." James took a deep breath and sighed.
"General Williams, we have the reports from the survivors of the Wall who said that the Rotarian artillery was not accidental or poorly aimed. It was accurate, it was deliberate, it was devastating." General Williams nodded sadly.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The reports all say the same thing."
"So then, how can my son's death be accidental?" One of the Councilors rose to speak.
"Your Majesty, we've examined the ID tags closely and while they do indeed state His Highness' name, there are some...abnormalities to them." James looked to him.
"What do you mean 'abnormalities'?"
"Well sir, for instance, the lettering. ID tags are made by machine stamping in which a machine stamps the letters into the metal. This is actually very acurate hand stamping. Someone took great care to tak a stamp marked with a letter and a hammer to stamp each and every letter and number into the tag. Second, the font size of the tags is wrong. The standard font is 9, these are size 12." James was unconvinced but motioned for the man to continue.
"Lastly sir, the metal...ID tags are made of an aluminum/tin mixture. The tags they gave us...they are painted to look like aluminum but are in fact iron. Plus, we had a chemist look at the tags and test them and he discovered that the tags have traces of magnesium, phosphorus, and several other trace minerals. These tags were not made with metal found in Syllia but this chemical composition is most commonly found in the Alakron Mountains in western Tellanos." James eyed the man with interest.
"What does that mean exactly?"
"The tags were not made in Syllia but in Tellanos. Plus, the metal was new, records indicate that His Highness never had to requisition new ID tags beyond those issued to him when he was commissioned. Sir, I think, in my opinion, that these tags are fake and that this is an attempt to throw yourself and Her Majesty into a tailspin. Chances are that the body coming in is also just some poor lad killed in action. This points to one thing only. He doesn't know where Captain de Launces is. Sir, there is a good chance that he is still alive."
James stayed still as a statue for a moment before giving a small smile.
"If that is true, Councilor Bennett, then you have saved my Queen and I many worrysome nights. Gentlemen, so far we have been fighting half-heartedly. I know it seems impossible but it is the truth. We have thought that the only nations who could match us are our allies. Now we face a foe who is capable of building weapons that it would take an entire force to destroy. On top of that, we know next to nothing about their production capabilities, their tactics, their troop strengths, and that's just the short list." General Williams nodded.
"We have stabilized the front line Your Majesty, thanks to the fortifications along Marginot-Siegfried Lines although, to be honest, I think the enemy may be waiting for something." James nodded, concern obvious.
"The thing is. What are they waiting for?"
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(Launces)
George awoke later that day, he gazed at the bandages around his legs, arms, torso and his right eye. Fair to say he looked like a mummy from one of those old Praetorian silent horror films. As he rose, he felt stitches pull at his side and sighed.
"Wonder how many stitches he used on me..."
"Oh, no more than fifteen." George jumped and looked around and saw the doctor sitting nearby chuckling to himself.
"Amber came by to see if you were awake. She's...not easy to intrigue but...there's something about you that seems...magnetic. The people of this group, we are but one small cell. There are many throughout the city who claim to be 'the Resistance' yet, they have not decided to unify. Tell me, Monsieur Moore. What do you believe should be the ultimate goal of the Resistance?" George sighed and then looked to the doctor.
"Personally? I believe the Resistance's ultimate goal should be the liberation of Launces. In the meantime, we need to do as much as we can to disrupt and destroy the enemy's plans. Uh...convoy interceptions, espionage, sabotage, liberation of POWs within the internment camps in the city, transmission of enemy plans and troop movements to forces outside the occupied zone. If nessessary, we go to more...drastic actions. Demolition of fortifications, theft of ammunition, supplies, medical equipment, assassination of high ranking officers, disruption of communications." The doctor nodded.
"Sounds like you have some things figured out. More than most of the young ones around here." George nodded then thought of something.
"By the way Doctor, I never got your name." The doctor chuckled wryly and nodded.
"Of course, forgive me. I am Doctor Francois Mezzanie, MD and DDS." George went wide-eyed and sat straight up.
"You're THE Doctor Mezzanie? The infamous Doctor M who led the old Launces Resistance alongside Edward Royce and Gunther Krieg?" The doctor chuckled and then looked to either side and smiled.
"And you are not Nicholas Moore. Well, you may have the name Nicholas, but I know who you truly are, Your Highness. Rest assured, I know why you go under a fake name and I shall protect your secret. But...there will be a day when the Resistance will need to know your name. What will you do then?" George sighed and looked about.
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it Doc. Tell me, do they know who you are?" Francois chuckled and nodded.
"They know the name but not what it once was. For several months during the Federation occupation, I helped keep hope alive. When I wasn't sewing up victims of Tellanian 'Retribution Squads', I was silencing traitors, outrunning pursuit teams, and doing whatever the hell possible to disrupt the Federation's plans for the city. My calling card was a big red M painted on whatever wreckage was left after I was done making mayhem. In a way, I am fortunate to have lived this long. In my youth I was reckless and often took risks, now I am old an wizened but my mind is still as sharp as it was back then. You want to make the Resistance strong? I can help you do that." George nodded.
"I never turn away help offered. So, what do you suggest we do first?" Francois scratched his beard thoughtfully before nodding to himself.
"There were three leaders of the old Resistance yet we all listened and valued each other's opinions. We do not need three leaders now but rather one unified body. We must first recruit people. Not openly, for that would surely invite spies and traitors and collaborators into our ranks to betray us later. No. We recruit from those who, like Amber, have lost everything and have nothing left to lose. You try to grind people beneath your heel long enough, they will start fighting back. Once we have the people, we will then need weapons, armor, ammunition, intelligence. All the things that give us an edge." George nodded.
"So...recruitment. Where do we start?" Francois sighed and shrugged but then Amber came in.
"I have an idea for our first recruit. Word just came over the radio, the Rotarians found a wounded dragon in the outer canal. They are transporting him into the city for internment." George rose, eyes wide.
"A dragon from the Dracocorps? Do they know his name? What element he is?" Amber shook her head.
"All we know is that none of the other groups are going to rescue him. They say his name is Caldor." George paled and sat back down.
"Caldor...the son of Silverus, the traitor." Amber went wide-eyed.
"Silverus? The dragon who plotted with his lieutenant to assassinate Lady Thera and was executed some years back?" George nodded.
"Yep. Silverus and Rayxor. The first dragons to ever die by beheading. The first beheading since the 1700s. The first dragons to ever be willingly surrendered to joint human-dragon law. After Silverus' execution, Caldor's mother was discharged, he grew up knowing nothing but scorn, hate, and disdain. Many times Father thought about his position but was always talked down by the senior members of the Dracocorps. They felt that, if Caldor was shown compassion, he may turn into another Silverus. Instead, he became reckless, bitter, and cold. It...It may not be my best idea but...Caldor IS a light dragon, and as the old saying goes, 'When the times are darkest, all that is needed is a little light'." Francois smiled broadly and clapped his hands.
"Well said Nick. Well said."
"So then, what's our course of action?" George, Francois, and Amber turned to see Miles and several other men standing there smiling.
George stood. Unsure of what to say when Miles lifted his hand and chuckled.
"No need to worry yourself, Your Highness. Aye, my wife recognized you when she brought you the food tray over there and, like Francois said, your secret is safe with us. Besides, it wouldn't do us much good to blast it about that the leader of our cell is His Highness the Crown Prince when we don't have any clout now, would it?" George chuckled about that and nodded. Miles then leaned against his rifle and became serious.
"Now then, sir. What is our course of action?" George became serious and turned to the group.
"Doctor, I want you on standby for this. We're going to be bringing in a wounded dragon. I don't give a damn who his parents are, he's a Syllian dragon and a member of the Dracocorps. He's one of us, and we never abandon our own." The men nodded, each smiling with pride. George turned to Amber.
"Do we have a route they'll take?" Amber unfolded a map of Launces and nodded.
"Yes, they intend to take this road here throught the outer city and go through Gate NE3. Right now they're trying to secure him at the canal here." She pointed to place on the outer canal called Cutter's Mill.
"We are here." She pointed to Pierson's Mill located on Route 12C near the central canal.
"So, we have to intercept the convoy somewhere between Cutter's Mill and Gate NE3. Once we're within visual range of the city, it'll be too late. We have to do it while we're still in the country. The terrain here is hilly and the grass is tall. Miles, how many sharpshooters do we have?"
"Including Amber? Myself, and two others." George nodded.
"Alright, Amber. You and Miles will take positions on this hill here, the other two will take positions on the opposite hill. We'll set up a crossfire killzone. Once they realize they're under a coordinated attack, the other group will rush in and eliminate the remaining guards and transport Caldor to the we return, we dump the truck into a deep part of the canal somewhere downriver and get him inside. Once he's here, it'll be your job to keep him alive Doctor." Francois nodded.
"I will do my best." George rolled up the map and looked to the men and women going with him.
"Alright everyone, this is our first mission as the Resistance, let's move out!"
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Alright! The first sortie is on the way! Can George and the Resistance save Caldor? Stand by for the next chapter!
Next chapter: Caldor.