Chapter Forty: Offline
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Gardos Air Base, Usea.
September 19th, 2019.
2200hrs.
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The LRSSG, or rather the remnants of them, didn't reach the air base until late that night. It had been a quiet flight, aside from Long Caster's guidance along the way, and nobody had been willing to break it. Nobody could. They were all exhausted and more or less numb from the day's events. Not only that, but tensions remained high with their IFF down. They were low on fuel, ammunition, and moral. For any opportunists, they were practically served up on a silver platter. But by some stroke of luck, they managed to make it to their new base without any further casualties. They maintained a tight formation, and had been sent around areas where enemy activity had been active prior to the operation.
Long after the sun had finally set, the same bursts and streaks of light from earlier continued to appear. Naomi watched a few of them burn into nothingness along the way, but she didn't feel anything but grief and dread looking at them. If Osea's satellites had been taken out in addition to Erusea's, then that meant those explosions were only reminders of the current blackout. A reminder that Mr. X was allowed to slip through her fingers once again, and hurt the people she promised to protect.
After what felt like ages, they had reached the base and identified themselves to the control tower crew, who proceeded to guide their landing. The base was on the very edge of Erusean territory, near Anchorhead Bay and not too far from the coast itself. City lights faintly glimmered further in the distance, and the fuzzy silhouettes of buildings just barely visible. The base itself looked to be the size of New Arrows, roughly, with several rows of hangars on either side of the runway. There were a few warehouses along the edge, and several, slightly smaller buildings that made up the barracks and HQ. An Osean flag hung at the top of a large flagpole near the edge of the HQ, the IUN's flag just below it. Naomi got a good look at the flags when they landed, having a good view of them from the ground.
As they slowly were guided to the open hangars, they passed a few open hangars. The lights were all on, offering a perfectly lit view of the ground crews and aircraft the base possessed. F-16s and F-15s, mainly, from the looks of things. Most of the other hangars were closed up for the night. There were also helicopters, anything from Blackhawks to Apaches, and transport planes. Not to mention what looked like some AA defenses being set up. It set Naomi somewhat at ease, knowing the base was well-equipped and defended. They should be safe here, for the time being. But they wouldn't be able to hide forever, and Naomi wasn't about to relax.
They led them to a pair of empty hangars that had been opened up as they were coming in, having enough space to fit each squadron's aircraft. They'd need to replace some of them, once Lanza and Fencer made it back. They are going to make it back, was the one of the only positive thoughts she had to repeat to herself. Naomi tried not to worry about them too much, but she wouldn't be able to fully rest until all of them were back safe and sound. At least the others were here. Only two more, then they'd be as close to normal as they could get after the day they had.
At last, they were signaled to stop and Naomi and the others cut their aircrafts' engines. The familiar whirring slowly ceased, and Naomi began to numbly unclip her harness after she unlocked and opened her cockpit. A ladder was pushed up by someone, who even climbed up to make sure she wasn't injured. The others received the same treatment, from the looks of things. Naomi was too exhausted to answer, and her mouth and throat were dry. All she could do was nod in response and slowly lift herself from her seat, carefully climbing down to the ground.
Her legs wobbled as she set herself down, and Naomi had to pause and steady herself. It felt like her knees were just going to buckle and give out underneath her, but she stretched them slightly and got her bearings back. Turning to face the open hangar door, eyes adjusting to the light, she looked around for the faces of her wingmen. Skald and Jaeger stood side-by-side at the entrance, looking her way with concern as they waited. Carefully, taking a deep breath to fight back the creeping nausea she'd had since the end of the operation, she slowly walked over to join them. Once she was within earshot, she opened her mouth to speak, finally finding the will to talk again. "Skald...Jaeger...you're both alright. Right...?"
The words felt slow and unnatural, but Jaeger and Skald shared a tired look with each other and then her and nodded. Jaeger spoke first, in the same boat Naomi was. "We're not hurt. I think we'll all be fine in that aspect. But..."
Jaeger trailed off, and his gaze shifted towards their aircraft, then where Cyclops had been. Skald and Naomi looked over as well as the figures of Count and Húxiān slowly made their way over. Húxiān reached the light first, noticeable bags under her eyes. Her bangs clung to her forehead, and the bun she had her hair up in was coming undone, frizzing in several places. For the first time since Naomi had met her, she was slouching and she looked much weaker and older than she was. The confidence and fire was gone from her body, but when she looked up at Naomi there was still that familiar glint to them.
"Trigger...I...well..." Húxiān began when she reached them, but she cut herself off and stopped, shifting her position to look back at Count.
Naomi looked to him as well, straightening suddenly when she got a good look at him. His free hand was balled tightly into a fist, and his other hand tightly gripped his flight helmet. He looked angry, ready to throw the damn thing if he needed. When he noticed Naomi, he looked up ever so slightly and the expression softened for a heartbeat before he looked away. Naomi dropped her own helmet and closed the distance between them in a few strides, stopping him short and seeming to knock the breath out of him when she wrapped her arms around him suddenly. She practically knocked them both over, gripping at his shoulders and pulling him into as tight of a hug as she could manage.
After a few seconds, his muscles relaxed and Naomi heard his helmet clatter to the ground before he brought his hands up to her shoulders to return the hug. He buried his face in her shoulder and she thought she heard him sniffle and choke back a cry. Waiting a moment, not wanting to have to pull away, she eventually took a step away from him. His arms fell to his side and he kept his head down, eyes fixed on the ground. Like he was scared to look at her. Naomi sighed, gently placing her hands on his face and lifting his head so she could look him in the eyes. Count allowed her to do this, reluctantly meeting her eyes. His own eyes were beginning to water, and a tear rolled down the side of his cheek. At last he broke the silence, his voice strained and just barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Trigger...I'm so sorry..."
"Count...it wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault," Naomi said to him, running her thumb along his face to wipe away the tear. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but she barely felt her mouth move at all. Whether he noticed it or not, she couldn't tell, but it didn't take long for her to go back to a blank expression. She took a deep breath, fully prepared to take full responsibility so long as it meant Count and the others would hurt just a little less, but Skald seemed to read her mind and spoke before she could.
"It wasn't anyone's fault. The only person we have to blame for this is Mr. X," Skald said as firmly as he could manage, though his lip quivered a bit and his voice was shaky. "We all did everything that we could."
Húxiān nodded in agreement, her brow furrowing and her fists clenching. She looked as angry as Count had looked just a few moments before, but she didn't say anything. It was Jaeger that spoke again. "Wiseman was proud just to know we didn't stop fighting. The least we could do is keep fighting. For him." His eyes fixed on Naomi, and he seemed to have more energy and determination than the rest of them. "I know we're going to get another chance against Mr. X. And when we do, we're going to finish him off and end the war. For Wiseman. We'll just have to...take everything a step at a time..."
Naomi looked back to Count and carefully took a step back from him, lowering her hands from his face. She waited for him to step forward first before she followed him, forming a close circle with the rest of their wingmates. His expression was blank as he reached them, having paused only to grab his helmet from off the ground. Sighing and running a hand through his hair as he spoke. "That reminds me...what the hell are we supposed to do now?"
They all looked to Jaeger first, but then to Naomi. She froze, not sure what they expected her to say. Outside of their push to seize Farbanti, Naomi didn't know as much about their strategy as Wiseman did. It took her a minute to find the words. She looked down when she spoke, rubbing the back of her neck to ease the aching she felt. And maybe the still growing headache. "I'm not sure. Beyond Farbanti and then joining up here, I really couldn't tell you."
Before anyone could say anything else, the sound of running footsteps followed by slower, steadier ones caught their attention. Before Naomi had even turned around, she recognized her father's voice call out to her as the steps came to a halt. "Naomi!"
All of them turned and looked at the newcomers, and Naomi immediately recognized her father, Tabloid, and Tailor, who had been the one running, and one more familiar face. Knocker stood beside her father with a grim look on his face, one which seemed to only worsen once he got a good look at them. Naomi had almost forgotten that her father and the others would be there, and from the looks on her friends' faces — all of them looking like a mix between surprised and relieved — it seemed they had forgotten as well. Tabloid spoke first, all of them aware right away that something wasn't right. His voice was gentle as opposed to demanding. "What happened? Where's the rest of the squadron?"
The group didn't answer right away, and Naomi looked to Count and then Jaeger for reassurance before she replied. "We met our old friends from Yinshi Valley...all five of them this time...including Mr. X..." she said, and the others expressions turned sympathetic. She continued. "Fencer and Lanza got shot down and bailed out...we're hoping they'll bring them here before long. Major Grimm has the coordinates. I-I think he does, anyways...but, Wiseman...he...W-Wiseman didn't make it..."
"What?" Knocker and her father spoke simultaneously. The others looked as though they didn't believe her, but unfortunately it was very real. She saw it happen, as much as she wished it had been some nightmare or hallucination. But it was very, very real. Tailor looked like a kicked dog. So much so that Naomi didn't want to look at him, otherwise she'd feel that same guilt she did when Count had come to the verge of breaking. He was only nineteen, still in school, and now his leader was dead. And now they faced the choice of possibly adding him to the squadron roster. He shouldn't have to deal with that.
Tabloid looked between Count and Naomi, eyes wide, but the shock soon faded to concern then softened to show his own grief at the situation. He sighed, hesitating for a moment before he walked over to them and brought them both into a hug. The gesture surprised them both, especially Count, but neither were complaining. He gave their shoulders a comforting squeeze before he pulled away, addressing all of them as he said, "I'm sorry, you guys."
Knocker sighed, obviously not sure what to say or how he was supposed to feel, but he eventually found the words. "I'd hate to be the bearer of even more bad news, but we're down a man, too. I think that Mr. X guy...or whoever got Brownie...had a run in with us a couple of days ago. Major Hamilton...I mean...shit...Kath— er...Blaze went down. She bailed out, but we don't know if the rescue helicopter ever reached her or not. All thanks to whatever is going on with the communications. Every sort of long-range communication we had, from radio to smartphones, just stopped working outside of a set range a few hours ago."
"Yeah, we ran into a similar issue..." Húxiān muttered, more annoyed sounding than anything. "What's up with that, anyways?"
"The rumor is that it's connected to the satellites. The commanders have been locked away, trying to figure it out since it happened," Naomi's father replied, but without much enthusiasm in his voice. His eyes narrowed on Naomi, studying her expression and reaction. "But we can worry about that later...right now, I'm more concerned about your emotional states. Are you guys going to be okay? At least long enough for a debrief?"
None of them answered right away, and this time it was Jaeger that came to the rescue. "It's been a long day, but if we have to then we can. Has Long Caster and his crew landed?"
"Yeah...just a minute ago. Landed in a hurry, too. I think Long Caster's already on his way to speak to Hawkins," Knocker glanced out at the runway, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "He'll...probably break the news to your base commander. I'm not sure what ours is gonna think...they transferred us all here to help with Farbanti, but Mage Squadron's planes were having problems. By the time they got it up and working and we started to head off, was almost the same time the radar and everything went to shit. I feel bad...I wish we could have made it out in time...maybe we could have helped."
"No point in thinking about what-ifs, now...can't turn back time..." Skald grunted out, probably sounding rude unintentionally. Knocker blinked out of surprise, and looked away with a guilty look. As much as she wanted to reassure him that it was no one's fault and it probably wouldn't have made a difference, Naomi couldn't disagree with her wingman. However, Skald seemed to have second thoughts about his words and looked down almost apologetically. Flatly, he added, "That didn't come out right..."
"Look, let's just get you all inside for that debrief. Maybe after that, once you eat and get some rest, you all might feel...well, better than you are now," Naomi's father suggested, and all of them looked to one another before wordlessly heading inside the hangar to take off their flight gear.
He and the others waited while Naomi and the rest of her wingmen set their belongings down, the ground crew promising to just set it aside so they could put it away later. From there, they managed to stagger back outside and follow Naomi's father and Knocker as they led the way. Tabloid walked beside Count, neither trying to make conversation, but it looked like Tabloid had something on his mind. Tailor walked beside Jaeger, looking straight at the ground. He hadn't said a word, and the news was probably a shock to him. Jaeger put a hand on his shoulder to try and offer some comfort, but if he knew he was even there then he made no indication of it. Poor kid. Naomi felt bad for him and responsible for his grief, even if something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.
Nobody said a word on the entire walk to HQ. Naomi looked straight ahead for most of the walk, zoning out more than once along the way. She wondered how the rest of Golem and Mage were doing with the loss of a wingman, not even knowing whether Kathryn was alive or not. At least with Brownie they didn't have to play a guessing game. Naomi knew it was torture on them having to wait to find out whether they retrieved her or not. It had been in Fencer and Skald's case, and it still was. With no way to get in touch with the unit, they just had to pray that their allies would find a way to follow them. Maybe, somehow, if Kathryn was alive then she'd find her way to them as well.
Her worries drifted to the encounter with Mr. X and the message he had passed onto her. Naomi didn't know what to feel about that, but she knew she had to tell Hawkins and her father sooner or later. She only hoped she wouldn't have to be the one to tell Hawkins about what had happened to Wiseman. The two of them had worked together for a while, and they seemed to be good friends. While she knew she couldn't avoid it, she wasn't sure how he'd react and she didn't know how much longer she could stand and watch her allies break. Hawkins would be no exception to that. Even if she didn't have the energy to keep repeating the same thing over again, Naomi braced herself anyways as the event continued to play in her head. She kept seeing it happen, so it wasn't like not saying it made it any less real. No matter how much she wished it did.
Naomi's train of thought came to a halt as soon as they reached the main building. The walk hadn't seemed that long, maybe because she had only paid attention to her immediate surroundings, but the pain in her legs said otherwise. Knocker opened the door without a word, and one by one they slowly stepped inside. It was much warmer inside than it was outside, making for a small improvement on the mood. Inside wasn't as quiet as outside, with more activity as soldiers carried out hushed conversations as they moved down the halls. Most of them looked in a hurry, clutching anything from files to tablets they were trying to get to work. A small group was gathered in front of a bulletin board, while not far from them a few were crowding the vending machines in the hall.
If not for the obvious tension thanks to the current situation, or whatever else was going on, then Naomi would have thought that it felt normal. Nobody paid them any attention as they followed Knocker and her father down the hall, save for a soldier that had sprinted into the lobby before skidding to a stop, nervously bouncing his way around them before he took off again down the opposite hall. Naomi glanced at him and noticed he almost dropped the laptop and stack of papers he was carrying. From the looks of things, he had somewhere important to be. Apparently, not only did everyone have plenty of work for the night, but they would all have their guard up, too.
Pressing a hand to her forehead, Naomi looked down as they continued the walk, the bright lights doing nothing to help ease her headache. Thankfully, the walk lasted only a few minutes longer before they reached their destination. Her father reached the door first, grabbing the handle and wiggling it to try and open it. It clicked and then thudded in protest when he abruptly let go, earning a huff from her father as he realized it had been locked. Making a loose fist, he leaned against the door frame and lightly knocked on the door with his knuckle. "PJ! Hawkins! They're back. I brought 'em with me."
At first it seemed as though no one on the other side had heard him shout, but after a couple of seconds the handle clacked and the door was swung open. Long Caster stood in the doorway, looking exhausted. He looked around at them all, as if doing a quick headcount, then he gave them the smallest hint of a smile and stepped aside. "Good...you're all okay. We're down enough people as it is. Come on in, we'll try and make this quick, for everyone's sake."
Long Caster turned and motioned for them to follow, leading them all into the briefing room. It was darker than it was out in the hallway, which gave Naomi some relief from her pain. Not nearly enough, but enough that she could focus better. They all took nervous looks around their new surroundings, except for Tabloid and those that had already been there. The room was larger than the ones they were used to, with a larger version of the high-tech screen at New Arrows. There was a wall of windows, all with the blinds drawn shut, and on the wall next to it along the back there was a row of several desks and cabinets. The desks were lined with computers, all displaying the OADF emblem with the air force's motto underneath. A few of the desk lamps were turned on, but most of the light in the room came from the briefing display screen.
Most of the chairs were unoccupied, except for two of them. The familiar faces of Clown and Hans sat in the front row, both wearing matching expressions of fatigue and anger. Hans was leaning over, his elbows resting against his knees with his hands cupped over his mouth and nose. He rubbed his index fingers along the bridge of his nose, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Clown was more relaxed, having one arm propped up on the armrest of his chair, leaning his head against his fist. They both looked in desperate need of some sleep, Clown looking on the verge of passing out.
Hawkins stood up front by the screen, right beside a man Naomi only vaguely recognized. The man had messy black hair, or at least it looked black to Naomi, but it looked to be graying slightly on the sides. He looked tall and slim, in decent shape like her father even though they appeared close to the same age. Actually, he looked a little younger. She knew for a fact that she had seen before, but she couldn't pin down exactly where. A photo? That Belkan War documentary, maybe?
The door shut behind them, and all four of the men in the room turned their attention to the newcomers. They all looked as weary as the LRSSG pilots were, and they all stayed quiet. Hans made no movement to get up, numbly acknowledging their presence, but Clown gave him a pat on his shoulder and muttered something to him before he rose from his own seat. Knocker continued forward and approached Clown, and the two exchanged a few brief words before Clown sighed and looked over at Naomi as they all picked out their seats.
Naomi stayed standing alongside Jaeger while Count all but collapsed into his seat, Tabloid beside him. Húxiān joined them, crossing her arms and leaning her head back. It looked uncomfortable, but Húxiān didn't appear to mind and briefly closed her eyes. Skald was the last to sit down, looking over at Hawkins and the other man — another Colonel, going off the rank on his shoulder — with a look that Naomi couldn't read. Her attention was brought away from her wingmen as the two chose to approach them, and she quickly noticed the look in Hawkins eyes. With a quick look over to Long Caster and her father, it took only a few seconds for her to figure out she didn't have to tell him about Wiseman.
"Captain Foulke...Trigger..." Hawkins began uncertainly, struggling to find the right words. He looked from her, to Jaeger, and then down at the remainder of his pilots. None of them paid him any attention in the same way, occupied with their own thoughts. Naomi wasn't far behind them, but they'd all have to snap out of it soon. Hawkins finally seemed to find the nerve to continue. "Long Caster filled us in before you got here. I'm sure none of you want to talk about it, and I won't force you. Wiseman was...well, let's just say I'm honored to have known him. I'm not really up to talking about it right now, either, but...never mind, I'll come to that later. We have other problems on our hands, right now."
Hawkins stopped, glancing towards the other colonel as he came to a stop beside him. Now that this new guy was closer, Naomi noticed more similarities between this new man and Tailor, as well as a noticeable difference. The name tag on his uniform read 'Beckett', confirming Naomi's suspicions they were related, but that still wasn't the main reason he was familiar to her. The difference between the two, perhaps the one that stood out the most, was the color of his eyes. Only one was the same brown color as Tailor's, the other looking to be blue. At first he seemed curious about them, but his expression changed to a sympathetic and almost awkward one as he gave a small nod.
Before anyone could say anything else, Hawkins took a breath and gave a half-hearted gesture with his hand towards Beckett. "Colonel Beckett is Fort Grays' commander. Tailor's father...a friend of, er...Pixy's...and as it so happens, still a capable pilot. He requested a transfer with the others prior to the operation to assist with the battle, but...after everything that happened...I'm not...I don't know if...well, I'm afraid the situation is pretty...bad."
"That's putting it mildly..." Naomi said flatly, barely able to keep standing as it was. Someone could have cut the tension in the room with a knife, and it was almost painfully awkward to be in the room. Everyone was either angry, confused, or just completely numb to everything. She looked around the room once, aware that almost everyone was watching them, and then she looked down. She had plenty of things she'd have liked to know, but for now she couldn't really care about what the answers were. And her patience was in short supply, whether she wanted it to be or not.
"I've heard a great deal about you and the rest of your unit, Captain Foulke," Beckett spoke up, drawing Naomi's attention to him. His voice cracked slightly on some words, probably due to age. In spite of that, it wasn't grating. It was light, actually, not nearly as commanding and abrupt as Hawkins or Long Caster could be. And he had a faint drawl on some words. "I'm very sorry to hear about Major Wiseman. He sounded like a good man, and a great pilot, too."
"He was," Naomi said, not having answered right away. She gave a stiff, slow nod as she said it, feeling a pang of guilt and annoyance. No matter how familiar Beckett seemed or who he was related to or whether he was her father's friend, he was still a stranger to her. She took a second to look over at her father, the guilt and annoyance fading to numbness. Naomi's posture stiffened, the only thing she could do to keep her emotions in check until they finally just...stopped. Unclenching her jaw, she looked back to Beckett and Hawkins. "Look, I'd like to know what the hell happened out there today. Either of you know why everything went to shit, or are we waiting around here for nothing?"
"Trigger..." Jaeger started with a sigh, but Count cut him off.
"No, she's right," he said, and everyone looked to him. Count shifted, leaning forward in his seat. He gave the two colonels a quick look up and down, then his expression hardened and any sense of formality or respect was long gone by the time he opened his mouth again. "It's been a really shitty day, and not all of us got to sit on our asses during the operation. How about instead of dancing around with introductions and empty apologies, you just tell us why the hell our IFF glitched out and let the son of a bitch that killed Wiseman get away? Huh? That sound easy enough for you?"
The rest of them gave their own nods and murmurs of agreement, while Jaeger just went quiet and expectantly looked to Long Caster. He looked as though he shared Count's anger, but he was obviously hesitant to say anything about it. Everyone except for Hawkins and Beckett shared the same reluctant agreement that Jaeger did, whereas Beckett looked startled and Hawkins looked on the verge of a breakdown. At the look he got from Jaeger, Long Caster crossed his arms and tried and failed to sound authoritative. "We've all had a long day, Count, and turning on each other isn't going to fix anything. You all need to calm down."
Count glared at him before looking to Naomi, who gave him an understanding look before she nodded. She watched him sigh and relax again, leaning back and muttering something to Tabloid. Although Naomi was just as frustrated as he and the others were, she knew Long Caster was right. Whatever they may be feeling about what had happened, it wasn't Hawkins' fault or even this Colonel Beckett guy's fault. She felt bad for him, for all of them, but they could sort that out later.
Turning away from them, she looked back to Hawkins and Beckett. There wasn't any doubt left in her mind that this Beckett was a Belkan War veteran, even if she was too tired to figure out who. And he'd most likely served alongside her father, if they were friends. There was an almost distant look in his eyes now, and Naomi almost felt bad for him. Knowing how bad that war had been, knowing he'd probably been through the same thing himself before. But right now, she just hated the guy and she really didn't give a shit about how sorry he was for them.
"I'm sure you're all exhausted right now. And confused. So, I'll try and get straight to the point," Beckett said after he cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting his standing position, favoring one leg more than the other. He quickly began to offer them the best rundown of the situation he could, albeit sounding a bit uncertain about it all. "I'll be honest, we don't know that much. As you probably already know, the mission to capture the capital is more or less complete, but we unfortunately have no new intel. The reason for that and why the instruments in your aircraft malfunctioned, is connected to the satellites. Erusea's communication satellites are down as planned, and we were able to confirm the deaths of several Erusean leaders."
"But?" Naomi's father prompted, and Beckett glanced at him and sighed.
"But our enemy was smart...turns out they had a similar plan, and our own communications systems were destroyed at approximately the same time," Beckett said, just barely loud enough for everyone to hear. Naomi held back a groan at the news and lowered her head, bringing her hand up to her forehead. The others reactions to the information was much in the same, all of them already having suspected it in the first place. She hated that they had been right. Beckett took a second for it to sink in before he spoke again. "To make matters worse, we have no idea when or if they'll come back online."
"So...just what the hell are we supposed to do until then?" Húxiān asked through gritted teeth, having a visibly hard time keeping her emotions in check.
"There isn't much we can do, except wait and try to find a solution," Beckett answered, and that same pitying look came back to his face. "All squadrons are being placed on standby awaiting further details. So for now, all of you go shower, eat, and try to get some sleep. We'll let you know if anything comes up. Er...dismissed."
Beckett turned and walked away, stopping a few feet away beside Tailor. Naomi noticed Tailor look up and say something to him, but she didn't know or care what it was. Beckett gave him a pat on the shoulder after he replied, watching as Tailor began to stagger away from him and Hawkins and over to the rest of the LRSSG. As Hawkins followed Beckett, the two began their own conversation, sending one last look back at the pilots. Count, Tabloid, Skald, and Húxiān all stood up and closed in around Naomi and Jaeger.
Long Caster and Naomi's father stayed put, and Clown and Knocker carried out a hushed conversation with Hans nearby. Everything went back to being quiet, everyone keeping their voices low, but Naomi wasn't sure if she preferred it that way or not. It was taking all her energy to keep herself standing, let alone process what they'd just been told. Count stood beside her now, clenching his fists. He kept his voice low as he said, "Dammit...are we really just supposed to forget what happened? Just...sit around and do nothing?"
"There's nothing else we can do for the time being, whether you want to or not," Jaeger said firmly. He paused before he continued, his tone still firm but his lip quivered and his voice cracked slightly. "I knew Wiseman for almost twelve years, so trust me, I hate it as much as the rest of you do. It won't be easy to work through, but you're all going to have to try."
Nobody said anything to argue against that, and Naomi even felt a bit guilty for not considering how Jaeger must have been feeling. He probably knew Wiseman better than any of them did, better than Naomi and Count did, which didn't make anyone feel any better. Not knowing what else she could do, Naomi took a couple of steps forward so she could place a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her with an expression that was a mix of surprise and gratitude, and his shoulders went slack as he took a shaky breath.
Naomi looked around at all of them, noticing how defeated and angry they all looked. Skald hardly looked as though he was paying attention to what was going on around him, and Tailor was hardly keeping it together. Húxiān and Tabloid both looked exhausted, but there was a fire in Húxiān's eyes whereas there was only worry in Tabloid's. Count was easily the most frustrated out of them, but he looked as though he was trying to rein his temper in after what Jaeger had said.
"I'm sorry, you guys," Naomi said, stepping back from Jaeger and letting her arms fall to her side. She took a few breaths so she could get her thoughts together before she went on. "Believe me, I know that's the last thing you want to hear right now. But Jaeger is right. So is that new guy. We aren't doing ourselves or anyone else any favors if we keep going like we are. So...let's just try and get through the night, alright? I don't...I don't know what other choice we have."
"Yeah...you're right..." Húxiān muttered. She took a breath, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. When no one said anything else, she began to walk away, unenthusiastically telling them, "If there's nothin' else, I'm gonna hit the showers...I need to clear my head."
"Same for me. God, I feel sick..." Skald said, starting to follow her. He paused right before he passed Naomi, standing in front of her and looking as though he was silently debating something. After a moment of that, he looked to her and opened his mouth to say something, then he stopped. Naomi was surprised he ended up saying anything at all, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder as he eventually said, "I'm sorry, Captain. Try not to worry too much, okay? We'll— I mean I...I think...we're gonna be fine."
He didn't give her a chance to say anything back, and Naomi cut herself off before she could, watching him and Húxiān quietly leave the room. Naomi then turned back to the others, just as Jaeger took a few steps in the same direction before he too stopped. They were all silent for a moment before Jaeger offered a small, sad smile. The look on his face was much like the one he'd given earlier, but his voice was a bit softer than it had been. "Skald isn't just saying that because he can, you know. He isn't really the type to speak if it isn't necessary. We all just need some time to ourselves, but we'll get back up again. Never say die, right?"
"I feel like I should be saying that to you," Naomi said, not sure whether or not she believed either one of them. It had only been a few hours, but everything felt so...wrong. Everything changed in the blink of an eye, and she had a strong feeling that this was just the beginning of one terrible storm. Still, she felt a little better knowing that none of them were throwing in the towel. At least not yet, anyways. Sighing, she managed to return the slight smile. "I really hope you mean that, Jaeger."
"I've been through a lot, Trigger. All of us have. And it hasn't knocked the fight out of us yet," Jaeger said to her, his smile fading. He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Well...I think I'm going to head down to the hangars and get used to the base before I find our barracks. Goodnight, you guys."
Naomi and the others watched him as he left the room, and as soon as he was gone Naomi took a few steps past Count and Tabloid, making her way over to the chairs. As soon as she reached them, she felt her legs give right on time and all but fell into her seat. She leaned forward and propped her elbows onto her knees, taking a cue from Hans and leaning her face into her hands as she closed her eyes. There was only so much bad news that one person could handle, and so much she'd just been given in one night.
It didn't feel real, none of it did. Instead it felt like some nightmare or a sick joke someone was playing, but a part of her knew that was just the denial talking. At this point, she didn't know if she wanted that to last or if she wanted it to go away so she could just move on with her life. Not like it would be that easy to do. She didn't realize until she moved her hand away that she had apparently started crying, or was beginning to. Quickly she gritted her teeth and wiped her eyes, pulling herself together as quickly as she could. Dammit, not now...
One of the others approached her, she didn't look up to see who until she felt someone put their hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. Count stood over her, seemingly at a loss for words for a few moment. Apparently he didn't know what else to do to comfort her, but Naomi found the gesture more than enough. She didn't smile, at least as far as she could tell, but she sat up and reached for his hand with hers, giving his thumb a grateful squeeze. Count seemed surprised by it, and he slowly moved his hand away when she let go.
She started to say something to him, anything, but she couldn't figure out just what to say to him. Or to any of them. Nobody had even asked Tabloid and Tailor how they were handling the situation, not even now that they seemed over the shock of the news. Naomi looked their way, noticing neither one of them was looking at her or Count. They seemed to have their attention fixed elsewhere. Tailor had one arm crossed over his chest, gripping his other forearm with his hand. His grip tightened and loosened periodically, seeming to be his way of keeping his emotions under control. He was staring at the floor with a hundred yard stare that made him look much older than he was.
Tabloid was much the same, watching her father, Long Caster, and their new duo of commanders with a mix of curiosity and concern. Something had been on his mind this entire time, and Naomi had a good idea of what it was. Even so, it was jarring to see two people that were usually so upbeat look so defeated and down. Everything was starting to sink in, and that just made it all the more real. As Count took the seat beside her, Tabloid turned his attention back to them. He didn't say anything, he just looked the two of them over for a few seconds, then he wordlessly joined them. As he often did, he took the other open seat so he and Count were sitting on either side of Naomi.
He just leaned into his seat, crossing his legs and folding his arms behind his head for support. For a few minutes he just sat like that in silence, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression. Tailor, on the other hand, stayed right where he was and awkwardly watched them. Tabloid eventually looked at him, as well as he could without moving, and then his eyes flicked back towards the ceiling. "Sit down already. You were pacing nonstop earlier. Don't you ever get tired?"
Tailor's grip tightened on his arm again, then he slid his hand down to his wrist and let go, slowly making his way to the chair beside Tabloid. He was quiet for about a minute before he quietly spoke up. "I just...can't stop thinking about them. About Major Wiseman and the others, I mean. The Lieutenants— er, Fencer and Lanza, are they really going to be okay? They bailed out safely, right? So, I just think, well, y'know...they'll make it out alive, won't they, Captain?"
Naomi looked over at him, noticing all three of them were waiting for her to answer. If she was going to tell them the truth, then she honestly didn't know if they'd actually make it out. Assuming they were picked up and left on their way before the communications went down, then they should be just fine. But if that had been the case then they would have already been here. She wondered if they'd even bother coming this way. That had been the plan, for most of the IUN and the LRSSG to meet up and wait for more orders. It was possible Major Grimm might not want to risk his unit given the circumstances.
"Fencer bailed out safely, but Lanza was injured when he got hit. I think he said he hit his head pretty hard," Naomi said, having chosen to answer him as honestly as she could. At the news, Tailor made a choking sound like he had held back a gasp and swallowed, looking at his lap as he began wringing his hands nervously. She tried to sound reassuring as she went on. "Things on the ground were pretty calm by then. We know they're alive, Tailor. And as far as we know they're safe. We didn't lose anybody, except for..."
"Except for Wiseman." It was Count that finished for her when she'd stopped herself. Naomi turned to look at him, surprised he'd answered so calmly. He looked away from her, towards the closed windows, and bitterly added, "But hey, at least it was quick. Didn't have enough time to react, means he probably didn't suffer. Heh...wish I could say that for sure."
None of them had anything to say after that, the four of them settling into the silence. Tailor looked too stunned by Count's comment to ask anymore questions on the matter, and neither Tabloid or Count seemed interested in conversation. Naomi wasn't in any hurry to go and shower or eat, not having much energy to move like she really wanted to, and she also felt obligated to stay behind in case there was anything else they needed to know.
Usually it wasn't her job to stay behind, but there wasn't anybody else to do it so she had no choice. If the others were staying behind for her sake, she probably would have told them to go, but they seemed about as ready to leave as she did. After a couple more minutes of silence, Tabloid finally stood up with a grunt and they all looked to him as he did. He scratched the side of his face with a yawn, soon after stating the obvious when he told them, "Well, it's been a long day and I'm tired. Unless you guys need me for...anything, really, then I think it's probably best I go..."
Naomi looked up at him, then gave a slow nod. "Don't worry about it. Nothing else will probably come up tonight, so the rest of you should probably go."
Tailor willingly took the invitation and stood up to leave, but Tabloid hesitated for a moment when he looked Count over. He hesitated, as if he already knew the answer or just didn't want to bother, then he spoke up. "Count? What about you?"
Count didn't seem to notice what he had said, staying quiet for a while. At last he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, muttering a reply. "Don't bother waiting for me. I'll stick around here for a bit...keep Trigger company..."
Tabloid nodded, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He held it out for Count, who looked at it with little interest before he reluctantly grabbed it. Staring at it for a few seconds, he started to question what it was before Tabloid quickly explained. "We're bunkmates again. That is the layout of the barracks we're in. I wrote down where our room is at the bottom, so if you get lost then it's on you..."
"Hilarious." The attempt at a joke didn't sit well with Count, who folded the paper over again before he shoved it into his breast pocket. He scowled as Tabloid's expression changed to an almost guilty one, then he looked away from him and dismissively promised, "I'll try to keep it down when I come in."
"Right. Thanks," Tabloid said, almost seeming disappointed. Even if Count was always prickly and grouchy to everyone, Tabloid included, Naomi could never recall him being this aloof with the guy. If anyone could be said to have been Count's friend, at least back when Naomi first met him, it was Tabloid. In spite of the reaction he received, Tabloid handled it in stride and started to back away. "Well, goodnight, you two. Take it easy, alright?"
Without another word, he turned away from them and headed to the door with his head hung low. Tailor gave a curt nod farewell and jogged off to follow him, and the two left the room without anyone noticing. When the door shut behind them, Naomi suddenly wished she'd asked him to stay, getting an idea of why he seemed so tense even before he'd heard what happened. The realization hit her that they had no way of contacting Avril or Bandog, now, and Tyler Island wasn't anybody but Erusea's priority, now. She felt so awful for not even thinking about the two of them, at least not that she remembered. If the thought ever crossed her mind, she quickly put it aside.
Tabloid had always had a soft-spot for Avril, and Naomi was pretty sure Avril was more than a little fond of him, as well. She was never nearly as harsh with him as she was with everyone else, and she let her guard down around him. They cared about each other a great deal, and at the very least they were friends. It made sense that he'd be thinking about her. Unfortunately, Naomi was pretty sure the last thing on Beckett and Hawkins' minds was Tyler Island. With communications down, it'd be suicide for Osea to even make an attempt to bring reinforcements to them. And she was guessing Tabloid had already figured that out, which made her feel worse for not speaking up.
Even if she had remembered in time to ask Tabloid about it, what was she supposed to say? How could she reassure him when she was just as worried and doubtful as he was. Goddammit. Naomi bit her lip in case she started to tear up again, still not ready to deal with that. She leaned into her hand, pausing to take a moment to massage the side of her face with her fingers, then she relaxed a bit and stared at the floor. Her goal now was to just try not to think, because the more she thought the more stressed she became, and the more stressed she was the worse she felt.
Count shifted in his seat, adjusting himself so he was facing her. She was aware of him just watching her, then at last he broke the silence between them. "Alright, you're not Húxiān, so why don't you quit the tough girl act, Trig?"
"What?" Naomi lifted her head and tilted it so she could look him in the eye. His tone hadn't been rude, but...still.
"You know what I'm talking about," Count said with an almost annoyed huff. "It's just...we were all pretty shaken up, and there's no way you don't feel like hell right now. Look, all I'm trying to ask you is if you're going to be okay?"
Naomi had been hoping to avoid answering that for as long as she could, still not really sure how she was going to feel a minute from now, let alone tomorrow or any time after that. She wasn't about to lie to Count, not when he kept looking at her the way he was. So she decided to give him an honest answer. "I don't really know, yet. I feel like hell right now, but I'm thinking once this headache I have goes away then I'll probably feel better."
"Y'know, if you're in pain then you should go," Count said, leaning back in his seat once more. "Instead of sitting around here for no reason."
"I feel like I should stay for a while longer, in case something comes up. Or in case they need me. It's what Wiseman always did," Naomi answered him with a light shrug. She looked over at him, watching him quickly stifle a yawn when she did. "If you're tired, then you should go, Count."
"Don't wanna..." Count answered, perhaps a bit groggier than he intended since the yawn finally forced its way out. Naomi was soon to do the same. He glanced at her, and looked to be debating whether or not to say something, then he finally cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "I guess I'm still on edge. So I know that no matter how tired I am now, I'm gonna be up on and off the whole night. So why bother?"
He almost sounded embarrassed to having admitted that, having forced and grumbled it all out. Naomi frowned, reaching out to rest her hand on his arm. "You can't just not sleep. And I'm not staying here all night, so you're going to have to do it eventually."
"Okay, well I'm not leaving yet, okay?" Count snapped at her, and she tightened her grip on his arm out of annoyance. She wasn't trying to hurt him, and let go a moment after. He sighed when she did, apparently out of disappointment, and after a few seconds of silence he said, "Sorry. It's not you, I just...I'll leave when I feel like it."
Naomi just watched him for a few seconds, noticing how he hung his head a bit and how his expression stayed blank. The more she thought about it, the more she was actually grateful for the company. Grateful for his company. So she nodded and turned away, softly answering him. "Then stay. I'm not gonna order you to leave if you don't want to."
They both went silent again, a little more tension between them then there had been earlier. Naomi shifted in her seat, trying to get as comfortable as she could before she leaned her head back. The back of the chair was hard, and the position she was in was stiff and not the best, but if she was going to be here a while then she might at least try to rest her eyes a bit. Count also tried to get comfortable, leaning towards her seat and stretching out so he was at a bit of an angle. He crossed his arms and leaned his head onto the back of the chair as well.
Although Naomi was still annoyed with him for snapping at her, she figured that she may as well take advantage of the free pillow stand-in she had sitting next to her. Adjusting her position once again, she pulled one leg up into the chair with her and stretched the other one out, turning so her back pressed against the armrest of the chair and she was able to lean her neck and head onto Count's shoulder. Barely able to, rather. It was a very uncomfortable position, but they both relaxed a bit. She heard Count sigh, but he didn't protest.
"I'm sorry," Naomi said to him, though she wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. He didn't respond, only gave an absentminded hum to indicate he even heard her. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the aching all over her body. Instead, she chose to focus on the rhythm of Count's breathing and the faint sound of her father and the others talking. Only a few minutes of that, and no matter how hard she fought, she quickly drifted off and was met by complete darkness.
Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.
2300hrs.
Schroeder stood between the open hangar doors, hands in his pockets, and stared up at the night sky. His watch trilled to let him know the time, the first sound to have been heard for roughly thirty minutes now. Simon and Massa were behind him, sitting at their workstation and staring at the computer screens as though they expected everything to come back on at any second. But Schroeder knew better. The second the network went down and the computers began to broadcast the word 'offline' in bold lettering, he knew it wasn't going to be that simple. He'd had a gut instinct, not that he ever relied on such things.
Being a man of science, it wasn't until he'd taken notice of the first explosions that he'd realized how unfortunate he was to have been right. It didn't take long for him to figure out what had happened. Everything that required an online connection, one that relied on satellites, went down. Only a handful of what he considered to be archaic technology still worked. Schroeder guessed the entire Usean continent — if not, then most of it — was now cut off from the rest of the world.
The last of the transmissions their little 'base' had received from allied Erusean forces didn't bring about many answers. Rumors were floating around thanks to mere fractions of sentences, leaving everyone to fill in the blanks along the way and pass them out. They were already severely misinformed, with word of factions splitting off from both the Osean and Erusean military...something about the conservative Eruseans breaking from their allies and Osean convicts rebelling to fight on their own. The only thing Schroeder absolutely knew for certain was that both country's had simultaneously launched attacks on the other's satellites, and now made a borderline dystopian nightmare into a reality.
It wasn't the first time a country would have gone to such drastic lengths. Of course, there wasn't really anywhere he felt like pinning the blame. Both country's had been in a cutthroat game for months now, and both had made a move to knock the other out. In their desperation to win, though, they had now thrown everyone into the dark. Civilians and soldiers alike. If the rumors were to be believed and Osea and Erusean forces had split and continued on their own, in separate factions, then it put thousands of other innocent lives on the line.
All they could do was sit and hope that the drones wouldn't run into any complications. He had helped to make them autonomous, able to act on their own instead of needing to be tethered and limited to their actions by a human pilot. If need be a fighter pilot could take control of them, give them new orders to follow, but given that the mission orders they'd been given were planned from the start...Schroeder seriously doubted General Parrish and his supporters within the military would want to change that. He couldn't help but worry, though. Even if they were still working properly, earlier reports of them acting out so to speak had him on edge.
Schroeder sighed, scanning the sky for signs of any more explosions, but it looked as though everything was done. He set his concerns about the drones aside, trusting his and his colleagues work to withstand even something like this. However, now he was left with other things to worry about. He turned away, looking back inside towards his exhausted apprentices. Simon kept switching back and forth between pressing things on his tablet and attempting to work with the computers. Massa was seated next to him, watching his attempts with little hope or interest in them.
Even if she knew the same thing Schroeder did, she trusted Simon as a friend and she wasn't going to give up if he wasn't. It served to remind him of what had been running through his head for several hours, now. They were practically still children, at least in his eyes. Young, overly optimistic, and far too stubborn for their own good. If they kept up like this, they wouldn't last very long. And right now, with the entire facility left with little to no defenses, it was his responsibility to keep them and Mihaly's granddaughters safe. The data and the four of them were all in harm's way, and Schroeder had a difficult and possibly dangerous decision to make.
But he wasn't the best at making tough calls. Out of habit, he weighed and calculated every single risk and possibility. It was what he was taught to do in his line of work, and it was second nature now. What he wasn't used to, was feeling nervous. He shouldn't care that much what happened to them. Everything he did was professional. You don't get attached to people in his line of work. There's barely anyone to get attached to. But these kids had their whole lives ahead of them. They could one day do far greater things than him. Far more noble things than he had done during this war.
He pushed the thought away, biting down the slight guilt he felt, and looked outside once more. Sol Squadron was gone, and he had a pretty good idea where they'd gone to. Assuming they weren't dead. Schroeder knew that if they weren't back by now, then they would never come back. They were either dead or well on their way to protect their homeland, which was likely to become a popular destination in the midst of this new chaos. Everyone was on their own now, so Schroeder chose to resign to his fate.
However, right now, he didn't feel like making a decision. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, having felt them slide, and began across the hangar. Massa looked up at him as he approached, but she didn't say anything. Simon didn't bother tearing his attention away from his struggling. Schroeder looked between the two of them before he stepped between their chairs and looked down at Simon, almost feeling bad for him. He didn't have the heart to tell him to give up. If anything, it was good that he was so determined, however naive it made him. So instead, he simply asked, "Are you having any luck?"
Simon glanced up at him, a bit surprised, then looked to Massa. He seemed to pick up on their doubts and reluctantly placed his tablet onto the desk, beside the computer. It took a second, but he finally answered. "No. Nothing. I can't contact anyone via computer or tablet. None of them are even going through. I can't get the computer to open up anything that might give us the drone data...the web browser isn't even working."
Massa groaned, pushing herself back into the chair and gripping a fistful of her red hair out of frustration. She stared up at the ceiling as she let out an almost bitter laugh. "I told you. I told you it wouldn't do any good! What did you think it meant by 'connection error', you dumbass?"
Schroeder gave her a stern look, both of them surprised by her sudden swearing. "Hey. I know you're tired, but you're both more professional than that. Calm down."
"No, she's right," Simon said, looking more than a little hurt by Massa's comment. She was his best friend after all, and she wasn't usually on edge like this. Schroeder watched as he balled his fist and lightly hit it on the desk. "It was stupid. A stupid, pointless waste of time. Just like this whole, stupid, goddamned war...our drones were supposed to make it a clean war, to perfect combat, and I doubt they'll even do their job anymore."
"That's enough. Didn't I tell you to calm down?" Schroeder said, and this prompted them both to mutter out apologies. Without a word, he leaned towards the desk and pushed the laptop closed. After that, he pressed the power button on the tablet and shut it off. Straightening up, he returned his hands to his pockets and looked between the two of them once again. "The drones will be fine. We won't be able to equip the newest online drones with General Shilage's data...however, we have plenty of other options. It's not like everyone's work is going to go to waste."
"So, what are we going to do now?" Massa asked him, looking completely drained. He doubted she really even cared about getting an answer.
"I don't know for certain, but I don't think it's safe to stay around here," Schroeder answered her with a shake of his head. He took a look around their hangar, making a mental note of everything they'd need to transport if they left. It was probably best not to withhold any truth or information from them. They'd know soon enough, anyways. "For the time being, I want both of you to be prepared to leave. I think that's our best chance, but I haven't decided anything yet. I think I'll have an answer in the morning. Get as much rest as you can, and be prepared for a long day tomorrow."
"And what about General Shilage's granddaughters?" Massa asked him, and Schroeder hung his head. For a minute he'd forgotten about the girls. When he didn't answer, Massa elaborated on her question. "Without communications, there's know way to know where the squadron is or even if they're still alive. While I wouldn't say Ionela is the biggest fan of our work, we can't just leave the two of them here. So what am I supposed to tell them?"
Schroeder took his glasses off and closed his eyes, carefully wiping the lenses off with his lab coat. He thought carefully for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Placing his glasses back on his face, he stared ahead for another few seconds while they awaited his answer. Softly, mostly thinking out loud, he said, "If Sol Squadron hasn't returned by now, then I don't think they ever will. They're either dead or they retreated, but I don't trust Mihaly not to be reckless...still, he left them in my charge, so there's no need for the two of you to do anything. I'll find a way to tell them."
Before any of them could say anything more on the subject, the faint sound of footsteps clacking against the concrete brought their attention to the open hangar doors. In the dim, white hangar light, Schroeder made out the outline of one of their conversation subjects. He hadn't expected either of them to be awake this late, although Ionela's responsibility towards her younger sister as well as her protectiveness over her grandfather was likely the reason she was still up and about. She took a few steps through the doors and stopped when she noticed them all watching her.
Even from where they stood at their workspace, Schroeder noticed her expression immediately change from blank to curious, and her eyes seemed to be narrowed onto him. Simon had turned his chair around to get a better look at her, while Massa had pushed herself and her chair out from behind Schroeder to get a better look. Subtlety quite obviously was not their strong suit, though by now that came as no surprise to him. Put the two of them of them together and if one didn't know better it would seem their brains stopped working.
As if they couldn't make it more obvious to Ionela that they were discussing something important, Simon leaned back in his seat and muttered just loudly enough for the three of them to hear, "Aaaaand speak of the devil..."
Ionela's eyes flicked between the three of them, and she stayed where she was for only a moment before she ventured further into the hangar. She briskly closed the space between them, the heels she had on making a much louder sound now that they echoed throughout the hangar. In spite of of her eyes giving away her obvious concern and curiosity, she forced a blank expression and carried herself confidently, much like Mihaly did. When she reached the workspace, she rounded on the front of the desk so she could see all three of them, careful to avoid the many cords on the ground running to their equipment.
Looking each of them over one by one, at last she clasped her hands together in front of her and offered them a curt nod and greeting. "I figured I'd find you all here. I hope I haven't interrupted anything...you all look rather grim."
"Oh, it's really nothing," Massa said as convincingly as she could, trying for a slight smile to lighten the mood. "Just computer troubles getting us down, really. Some of our work got cut short."
"Those explosions from earlier were the satellites, weren't they?" Ionela asked them, choosing to avoid fake sympathy towards their work's demise. Schroeder blinked, surprised she was so quick to figure it out, and he realized too late that the rest of his face gave away his surprise. She noticed his reaction and fought back a scowl. "I heard about the satellites from the other soldiers that are stuck here. The internet shut off when the explosions first started, and practically nothing works now. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to connect the dots."
Schroeder frowned, noticing the slightly harsher tone she chose to use. She really didn't like him, making Schroeder wonder if Mihaly had placed the girls in his charge on purpose just to get the last word in his and Ionela's recently ongoing feud. Regardless of the reason, it didn't change anything and the fact was that he was responsible for them. He wasn't going to sugar-coat anything for them, since they were perfectly capable of understanding death and facing reality, he had just been hoping to have more time to think.
Straightening his posture, he shoved his hands into his coat pocket and relaxed his shoulders. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he felt about the situation, but the last thing he wanted was a fight. So he stayed as aloof as he could, not that it was difficult, in hopes she wouldn't catch on too quickly to what they weren't telling her. "Well, if you know that much, then I'm sure by now you're aware the communications are down, too. Your sister knows what's going on as well, right?"
"Alma knows what I understood and explained to her, but I don't think she really gets it," Ionela replied. She took a deep breath and tapped one of her index fingers on the back of her hand. A nervous habit, Schroeder assumed, though that was the only other thing besides her eyes that gave away her real concerns. Just as steady as before, she went on. "I was actually wondering if there's anything else you could tell me. If the satellite plan thing didn't go as planned...well, nobody's saying anything. I wanted to know how the operation to defend Farbanti went. Did we win?"
So much for his plan to put it off and come around to it later. He wasn't surprised by the question, nor did he react in any way to it, unlike Simon and Massa. The two of them both tensed and looked away, which meant Ionela was left staring solely at Schroeder while she waited for an answer. Schroeder slowly looked away from them and up at her, taking a few seconds before he calmly and quite reluctantly answered her. "As you know, communications shut off rather abruptly. Even so, we weren't really a priority for receiving updates on the situation. I'm afraid that the last rumor I heard was that Osea had the upper hand, but I have no way to confirm anything."
Ionela seemed to emotionally shut off on the spot, not even tearing up or losing her temper. Her right hand's grip tightened, digging her nails into her knuckles before she dragged her hand up to grip at her elbow. Faint, pale marks appeared in a trail up her arm before quickly turning to red and fading. She lowered her head, and stared at the floor before she finally braced herself and asked rhetorically, "My grandfather and the others...they aren't coming back, are they?"
"I'm sorry." Schroeder felt a sense of guilt and pity as he watched her stand there. It looked like she was going to start crying, her lip even trembling slightly. He heard her draw in a sharp breath, but she didn't say anything. Somehow he managed to find it within himself to make an attempt at comforting words, but what was he supposed to say to someone who might as well have lost everything? Whatever the case, he knew he had to try to handle the situation with tact. "I'm not saying he's dead. Sol Squadron could have very well survived the battle, but given the current situation, it wouldn't be worth the risk to return. Tactically speaking, we're at a major disadvantage staying here. The facility isn't designed to operate as a full-fledged military base, after all."
"I see." Ionela's voice didn't shake, but she sniffled and cleared her throat before she lifted her head and looked to him once more. "If that's the case, am I wrong to assume you all will be leaving? Taking your precious equipment and research somewhere safe?"
"We're likely going to head for Selatapura. The Arsenal Bird's defensive range should still be holding steady," Schroeder answered her question honestly, and he was well aware Simon was listening intently for any more information on that matter. Ionela as well. So he continued. "It has to do with our latest drones...the ones we have now won't cut it. Your grandfather's data might very well save countless lives if we can upload it to the newest ones before they're completed and—"
Ionela didn't give him a chance to continue justifying his decision, sharply interrupting him with a furious look on her face. "Save me the noble speech. I've heard it all before and I don't care. Are my sister and I going to remain here, waiting to die? Or are we expected to turn and run as well?"
"Mihaly asked me to look after the two of you in his absence, and if we stay here then we're too close to the front lines," Schroeder answered her as calmly as he could. Before she had a chance to interrupt again, he quickly added, "It's a gamble either way, but if we stay here and do nothing then it's a definite death sentence. Regardless of how little I care for sentimentality, I promised your grandfather you two would stay out of harm's way, and I'm not looking to break that promise. At the same time, I have a duty to fulfill to Erusea. Leaving is the only way I know that I can honor both."
Silence fell over the group, and Schroeder didn't realize he'd raised his voice slightly and been too firm until he heard the last word echo around him. He hadn't been yelling, but it had caught him and the others off guard. Ionela stared at him for a few seconds, the anger and coldness in her eyes fading away and leaving her expression dull. Her voice was just as empty of emotion when she finally responded. "Very well, then. I'll make sure we're ready to leave when the time comes. I pray my grandfather's faith in you isn't misplaced."
The sudden grudging acceptance and defeat was unexpected. If there was anything Ionela had in common with her grandfather, it was their stubbornness and will to fight. No matter what happened, you could always count on them to go a mile further than they needed and they both were ready and willing to fight whether with words or weapons until they couldn't fight anymore. Whether she gave up long ago or the possibility of her grandfather's death had stopped her, Ionela no longer seemed argumentative. It was like out of nowhere she just gave up.
As she turned away, her shoulders fell and her pace was slow as she started off. Out of the corner of her eye she watched them until they were out of view, and Schroeder wondered if he was wrong when he noticed a brief glint in her eye that Mihaly had. Ready to take the whole world on just to prove he was on top...was she really throwing in the towel? It went away just as soon as it had appeared, and Ionela continued on her way, half-heartedly telling them 'goodnight' as she left.
Schroeder watched her go, almost suspicious of her apparent change in heart. Once she was well out of view and earshot, Massa was compelled to speak up, apparently feeling the need to justify Ionela's actions for her. "I'm sure she won't be any trouble, Doctor. You have to understand that General Shilage and her sister are really all she has left in the world. The possibility of anything having happened to either of them, well, she's just hurting a great deal more than she was before."
"Yeah, no secret how ticked she was before he left. Probably feels awful for fighting with him," Simon added with a shrug, trying to play it as though he didn't feel as bad for her as Massa did. "Still, you gotta wonder what's going through her head now...it's no secret she hates our work. I'm glad she's not really the vengeful type, otherwise I'd be worried she'd try to sabotage the AI or something like that. People get crazy when they're desperate."
"In that case, you should know better than to underestimate her," Schroeder said to them quietly, feeling a bit suspicious himself. That look in Ionela's eyes refused to leave his memory, and he didn't know why. She was only fifteen, not exactly some great threat and certainly not someone with the desire to harm others. But if there was anything she'd learned from Mihaly, it was how to hold a grudge and how to be a soldier. She was unpredictable, and Schroeder wasn't sure what to think. Mostly to himself, he muttered, "Something tells me she isn't giving in that easily."
Tyler Island, Usea.
2340hrs.
"C'mon, get up already!"
Lieutenant Georg Fitzgerald was vaguely aware of the people talking around him, having been shaken out of his unconsciousness just a few moments earlier. He'd felt his body fall to the ground, and felt concrete against his face and the palms of his hand. His attempts to open his eyes all ended in vain, as the bright lights and movement that swirled around him brought about a burning sensation. What felt like the barrel of a rifle was pushed into his shoulder blade, giving him a stiff shove and prompting him to open at least one eye.
Fragments of thoughts and what he last remembered started to come back to him. Communications were offline, something to do with the satellites. Farbanti had been attacked, too, apparently. A general by the name of Parrish, more of a politician than a soldier, had arrived at the facility they were working. Georg remembered being confined to his quarters for some time prior, as punishment for his 'rebellion' as they'd put it. Two soldiers had come for him, but he couldn't remember why. He could recall someone kicking him, and collapsing to his knees. Then something hit his head and he woke up...wherever this was.
Even with one eye open, his surroundings were still unfocused and too bright to make out. The shapes of people around him were all he could make out, but they were all weirdly shaped and dully colored. The sounds were becoming clearer, and he realized that the echoing of voices was not a result of his dazed state, but rather due to the building they were in. It was this fact that told Georg that he had been taken to one of the hangars, which struck him as odd.
"Don't you think knocking him out was a little excessive, Sergeant?" the voice of an older man with an obviously Erusean accent spoke up, not the same as the one from before. There was an almost exasperated sigh that went along with his words.
"We should've seen this sort of thing coming. He was getting mouthy and wouldn't just shut up and follow us, and I know better than anyone not to trust a Belkan to be cooperative," argued the voice from before, possibly belonging to whatever soldier shoved him with the gun. Georg grunted as he felt someone give him a firm, abrupt kick to the ribcage, and he rolled onto his back to wrap his arm over it. Another series of kicks came to his shoulder came, much lighter than the first, to get his attention. "I said to get up, dumbass! You're wasting time!"
Georg squinted, opening both eyes this time, and stared up at the hangar ceiling high above his head. Two figures hovered over him, staring down expectantly. One looked younger, and far angrier than his companion, who was a much older gentleman, with graying hair and an Erusean dress uniform. Wincing from his newly formed bruises, Georg forced himself to sit up and brought a hand up to his forehead while he glared at the older of the two. "Gah...you're General Parrish, I'm to assume? Did you order him to do this?"
"I ordered you to be brought to me, not beaten. I don't usually believe in using assault as a first resort." Parrish's eyes flicked to the sergeant, who rolled his eyes and took a few steps away from Georg. He then leaned down, extending an arm towards Georg as an offer to help him up. Georg held back a scoff, staring up at the general incredulously. Parrish just gave a casual shrug and straightened himself up. "Fine, have it your way."
In spite of his pain, Georg refused to accept help from the general he'd heard so much about, and forced himself to his feet. The look on Parrish's face was relaxed, almost calm or bored even, but there was something menacing in his eyes. Aware of Parrish watching his every move, Georg took a look around the hangar, still affected by the overhead lights. Two F/A-18s sat side by side, with a metal, collapsible desk and several computers set up in between it. Georg recognized this as the hangar he worked in. There was no doubt in his mind about that.
Slowly, he turned his attention back to General Parrish, narrowing his eyes on him. Georg couldn't help but find his presence at the island facility suspicious. "Why have you dragged me here? And what's a politician doing out here? I heard that the King and his loyal generals were standing their ground against the Oseans..."
"As if I was going to stand by and throw my life away to make a statement. I'm afraid I still have business to attend to...starting here, with you," Parrish said, almost dismissively waving his hand. He paused, and Georg watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a couple of chocolate bars. Silently he offered one to Georg, but he refused. Parrish shrugged it off, shoving one of them back into his pocket while he opened the other.
"What business could you possibly have with me?" Georg asked bitterly, clenching his fists, but he already had a pretty good idea of what it was. As a result of his less than traditional Belkan upbringing, compared to men like Schroeder, Georg was not a blind follower of authority. After his father's death at the hands of Belkan extremists, and the threats that caused him and his mother to flee to the Usean continent, Georg learned that people with even a shred of power were only out for themselves. And his mistrust had caused some recent problems.
Initially, the drone project had been appealing to Georg ever since he'd heard about it. It was a miracle he'd even made it as far as he did in the military, having originally been assigned to communications and intelligence. But he applied to work on the program, which was backed by Gründer Industries, and by some stroke of luck had made it in. His wife, Adelaide, had been suspicious and wary of it, especially when the war broke out. She saw no good coming from it, and Georg realized he should have listened to her.
It wasn't until he'd already given them the means to fake IFF and increase their stealth in other ways that he realized his error. By the time Harling was assassinated with his technology and Tyler Island became a war zone, it was too late to turn back. He sent his wife and daughters to safety and pushed through his work, forcing himself to keep his mouth shut. When he'd learned of the prototype drones, he refused to offer any more help, even though he was one of their leading men on it.
No matter how politicians like Parrish sugarcoated it, they only wanted more violence and more power. Georg couldn't ignore his conscience, and he knew he couldn't have any part in a pointless war any longer. This wasn't the hill he wanted to die on, but by the time he'd even considered defecting being an option, the Eruseans already discovered he'd been withholding important data. Now with the satellites supposedly gone, Osea having attacked the capital, and the man behind the drones standing before him, Georg had a pretty good idea his sins were coming back around to bite him very soon.
Parrish broke off a piece of his chocolate bar to eat, wrapping the rest of it back up and placing it in his pocket. He didn't look at Georg, taking a bite of candy before he even said anything. Then he chuckled suddenly and finally spoke up. "I get the feeling you already know the answer to that. You've created quite a stir. And given everything that's happened today, I'm afraid that's brought about a difficult problem for me to have to deal with."
Georg stayed quiet, watching as Parrish began to pace in a circle while talking. "You see...the drones were created with Erusea's best interest in mind. Since our capital is as good as lost by now, and our King was killed in the attack, I'm afraid, that leaves the responsibility of protecting the people on my shoulders. Many of my allies have been cut off in the recent attack on the satellite network, and I would really like to ease the burden of this war as quickly and cleanly as possible with what tools I have at my disposal. You understand?"
"This is where my expertise comes into play, correct?" Georg asked, following the general's pacing with his eyes. His guard remained up, knowing the sergeant was quietly waiting for him to make one wrong move.
"Hmm. Belkans truly are a clever bunch, aren't they?" Parrish snidely asked, and Georg fought the urge to respond. Finishing off the last bite of the chocolate, Parrish then continued. "You've disobeyed orders, Georg. Spoken out of turn. Withheld important flight data your friend, Dr. Schroeder, sent you. Data we need to program our latest batch of drones. Data that would save countless lives. All things considered, this is an act of treason, which is a very selfish, cowardly thing...where's that infamous Belkan pride, hmm?"
"Forgive me, General, but I'm not so easily manipulated," Georg said, finding himself holding back a smile. His tone was softer than he intended, but he continued. "It's true, I believed my work would do the world good when I first started. But I started to lose my drive to continue after Harling's death. To see the Eruseans around me celebrate the death of such a man, to know I played a part in the death of the innocent, it made me think. And I realized I no longer want to be a puppet to a politician."
"Is that so? You think Harling was an innocent?" Parrish asked him with a scoff. "Harling was a pompous coward that hid behind a pacifist veil. A fraud that reflected his country well."
"The more I listen to you, the less I'm convinced it's Harling that was the fraud, sir..." Georg answered, looking towards the fighters that sat in the hangar, bearing Osean markings. "I don't think there's any such thing as a good side or a bad side, so I can't say if I believe Oseans are the 'good guys'. But I don't think they're the bad guys, either. I want no part in settling someone else's score. If that makes me a traitor, so be it."
"You obviously haven't been paying attention the last twenty years or so if you think that way," Parrish said to him, taking a step forward. Georg heard the sergeant from earlier react, readying for an escalation, but not for Georg's sake. Parrish's voice was lower now. "How many innocent lives were taken in Osea's indiscriminate attacks, huh? How many families lost their children or parents or siblings? Osea is full of nothing but warmongering dogs."
"And how many of those 'warmongering dogs' had families, too?" Georg demanded, now staring Parrish right in the eyes. "I get it...I understand far more than you think. It's easy to dehumanize someone to lessen your own guilt and justify your misplaced blame. But it makes you into the real monster. And I don't want my family to live in a world people like you get to shape, so I won't help you get the satisfaction of winning."
Parrish was practically fuming at this point, his calm exterior beginning to crumble slowly at Georg's admittedly preachy attitude. "You'd risk the lives of everyone around you to follow your conscience? You'd sit there and pat your own back while the country that took you in crumbles...all while thinking you hold some moral high ground. Sickening. You have the power to help us stop this bloodshed. So why refuse?"
"Because the bloodshed won't stop there. I know it won't," Georg snapped at the general. "After Oseans are gone from Erusean soil and after the Lighthouse has fallen, what then? Take the fight to their country?"
"If that's what it takes to free Erusea, then I'll do whatever it takes," Parrish snarled at him. "I can't believe the conservatives got to more than just our spineless royal family...tch."
Georg stayed quiet for a few seconds, not entirely sure what he thought of General Labarthe's views either. They were far less demented than Parrish's, but Georg just wanted out. To be able to leave and go to his family. He didn't know what had driven Parrish to a breaking point, he hardly knew the man, but no matter how much he pitied him Georg wasn't going to let down his own family. "I'm sorry, General, but I'm not going to ignore my conscience any longer. And you can't access the latest flight data without my help."
To his surprise, Parrish suddenly slipped back to his cool demeanor from before as he turned to the sergeant and said, "I think it's time for Airman Girard to bring in our other guests. I'm sure Lieutenant Fitzgerald would be more willing to give us what we need if he understands exactly what's at stake...for him."
With a smug look on his face and a quick 'yes, General', the sergeant began a brisk walk towards the cracked hangar doors. Georg felt a nagging sense of dread, but he tried to ignore it as he watched Parrish check his watch. With the lull in the conversation, Georg brought a hand up to his head to try and ease the growing headache he had. While he wasn't exactly thrilled about the pain, at least it took his mind off of his fear. Which was only getting worse by the second.
Something about the way Parrish had worded that order set off a kind of alarm in his head. That same gut instinct that he'd ignored that had told him to run before anyone found out he'd betrayed them. He couldn't very well run at this point, no matter how much he wished he could. Maybe he was a coward like Parrish told him, he honestly couldn't say at this point. At least he wouldn't have anymore blood on his hands if he could help it.
He heard faint voices and footsteps as the sergeant returned with more people in tow, and Georg slowly turned to see who these 'guests' were. The sergeant walked in, followed by a young woman in an Erusean uniform, and then Georg felt his heart drop into his stomach as three familiar faces followed reluctantly behind them. His wife was the first, dragging along both of their daughters. Seven year old Cynthia, the spitting image of her mother, held tightly to her three year old sister's hand. Fiona was on the verge of tears, holding a death grip on her favorite stuffed bear with her free arm.
The Erusean airman seemed less than thrilled about her task, but nevertheless the young soldier gently urged Adelaide and the girls along. Georg glanced at Parrish, who gave him a nauseating smile. Before he could say anything to the general, Fiona took notice of him and broke free from her sister's grasp, dropping her bear in the process, and raced towards him while half sobbing. "Daddy!"
Georg instinctively turned towards her and crouched down to catch her, the breath knocked out of him as she flung herself into his arms. Without knowing or meaning to, her knee accidentally collided with the spot on his ribs where he'd been kicked. He winced in pain, drawing in a sharp breath, but returned the tight hug she gave him with a more gentle one. Fiona sniffled, burying her face in his shoulder, and Georg wasn't sure if he felt grief that they here or relieved that they didn't appear hurt.
The rest of his family came to a stop a few feet away, both Adelaide and Cynthia staring at him with fear. A noticeable difference between them and Fiona was that they understood exactly how serious the situation was. Fiona only understood that they were scared and that they were surrounded by strangers, and that she was suddenly reunited with the father she hadn't seen in months. Although he had wanted to see his family again, this wasn't the circumstances he had in mind.
"Fi, it's alright, go back to your sister..." Georg said in an attempt to calm her a little as he reached behind his neck to pry her arms off him. Fiona reluctantly backed out of the hug, but kept holding onto his hand, shaking her head and mumbling that she didn't want to. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he used a more stern tone when he told her, "I know you're scared, but you need to go back to your sister, Fiona. Okay? I'm right here."
Cynthia, who remained glued to her mother's side, had picked up Fiona's bear and held it out to her to urge her to come back. She also tried a different verbal tactic to convince her to listen. "Fi, you dropped Teddy again. Don't you think that hurt his feelings?"
Fiona looked at Georg, who nodded in agreement with Cynthia, and then her hesitation was gone. Rubbing her eyes to get rid of her tears, Fiona marched back to Cynthia and grabbed her teddy bear, clutching it in a tight hug and resting its head on her cheek as she gave it a sad apology. "Sorry..."
Georg stood up, looking over at Parrish and the sergeant, wondering if they were going to stop him from going near his family. On the contrary, and to Georg's surprise, Parrish actually motioned for him to go to them. Although still worried they'd try to stop him, he closed the gap between him and Adelaide as the airman stepped aside to allow him by. He pulled his wife into a hug, choking back a sob as he heard her do the same. When he pulled away from the hug, he looked over her face for any signs she'd been hit or worse, but aside from her eyes being puffy from crying, she appeared to be okay.
Without another word, still standing beside his wife, he looked to Cynthia. His eldest daughter stared up at him with wide, blue-green eyes, appearing unharmed like her mother and sister. She didn't say anything, though, eventually looking away from him and staring at her feet. It wasn't like she was ever particularly talkative, but now she seemed especially shaken and unwilling to do so any more than she needed to. Aside from what she had said to Fiona, she stayed completely silent.
"Georg...what happened? Why did they drag us out here?" Adelaide asked him as he turned back to face her. He didn't answer her right away, avoiding eye contact. She was silent before she placed both hands on his face and made him look her in the eye. Her voice was more hushed and worried, in an angry sort of way, as she demanded, "Georg, what have you done?"
"It...it isn't what I've done. It's what I haven't...and what I'm betting I'm about to do," Georg muttered, each word making it harder to keep his composure. Adelaide's expression softened, even if she didn't completely know what was going on. There was only one way out of this problem, and he hated that. With a sigh, he went on. "After the war started, I helped with things I wasn't proud of, even indirectly. I tried to do what you would have wanted...I tried to follow my conscience. But...I can't stop this, Adelaide. And I think now, I've been backed into a corner."
Without giving her an opportunity to respond, Georg took a few steps back, and then looked at Parrish. The general stood there, one eyebrow raised, waiting for Georg's response to the situation. Georg kept a level tone and said, "Alright, I get the message, General. But before I do anything for you, I want your word that my wife and daughters will be taken to safety."
"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," Parrish said, chuckling slightly. Had it not been for the fact his family was there, he gladly would have punched the guy. Parrish, more agreeable now, gave an overdramatic sigh. "All I needed to do was put your dog into the fight, eh? Very well, then. You and your family are free to go once this is over with. Believe me, I wish you hadn't pushed me so far."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's true...look, I may be giving in, but I don't want any more blood on my hands," Georg said quickly, clenching his fists. "So you can put the damn password in yourself...it's Alpha-Charlie-Foxtrot-081216. The data's filed under Archange-6809. Everything is already set up, but given that the satellites are down...I have no clue if it will even work."
Parrish was silent for several moments, then he nodded and began to walk towards the computer. He didn't say anything for what felt to Georg like an eternity. Once he'd turned on the computer, looking over the screen, he turned his attention back to them. "No need to worry, I'll figure it out, I think. Erusea thanks you for your service, Lieutenant Fitzgerald. Airman Girard, would you be so kind as to escort the lieutenant and his family off base?"
"What?" Georg wasn't sure he heard the order right, but the panic had already set in.
Airman Girard hesitated, looking to Georg and then to General Parrish before she nodded and gave in. "Yes, sir."
"Wait...General, you said you'd take them to safety..." Georg said, watching as Girard approached the girls, seeming rather guilty about the situation as they already began sobbing again.
"I said that you would be free to go. I never specified where," Parrish said with a shrug, almost bored with the situation.
"You bastard! This place is a war zone!" Georg had raised his voice to a shout that was a mix of scared and angry. The sergeant stepped forward, readying his rifle in case Georg tried anything, but he stood in place. "They haven't done anything to you! If your fight is with me, then throw me out to die on my own! Let my family go somewhere safe, please!"
"If you're so convinced that the Oseans are the ones fighting the good fight, then you have nothing to fear," Parrish said with a cold laugh as he turned his attention to the computer screen, typing in the password Georg had given him. As Airman Girard tapped Georg's shoulder to pull him along, Parrish suddenly looked up as if remembering something. But he didn't address Georg when he spoke. "Oh, and Girard! On your way out, inform HQ that the attack will begin as planned. And what was the last status you received from our guy?"
"They're approaching the island as scheduled, sir. They should arrive shortly after the attack begins. That was all I heard before communications went down," Girard said quickly, sounding less than enthused. Georg almost felt bad for the woman, but she must have signed on for whatever this was.
"Perfect...seems like everything is exactly as it should be. Carry on," Parrish said, and Georg felt Girard grab his arm and manage to drag him away from where he stood frozen. Parrish smirked as he watched them leave, calling out to him, "We'll see how well you fair in the world you've helped create, Fitzgerald!"
Once they were out in the cold air of the night, Georg wanted nothing more than for some ridiculous miracle to save them, but he knew better than to expect one. Not with the luck he was having this night. It was only now that he realized how naive and incredibly foolish he'd been, first to think he'd do any good and then to turn around and rebel against his leaders in the military. Georg didn't know what was going to happen on this island, and he didn't know what was going to happen to his family.
But as he and his family were led through the night, Georg realized that whatever was to happen — and whatever the outcome of this war was to be — he would only have himself to blame for it. So much for not having any more blood on his hands.
Author's Note: If anyone wants to know why this chapter took so long, I've spent the last few weeks fighting with that third scene. Writer's block and burnout hit me pretty hard this month, but I'm finally satisfied with it after way too many rewrites. Things were supposed to pick up more in this one, but the best stuff will have to wait until next chapter. For now, I'm going to take a few days off, so take care until next time.
Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter!