CHAPTER 6: In Flames
"Here," I stretched out my hand, a long bundle held within my palm.
A pair of smaller hands reached out and warily took the thing in my palm. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape at the prospect of what they were getting. Their form -consisting of unkept hair and rags- quickly vanished into the sea of people behind them.
I lost sight of them after a second or two. Blinking, I let my view gradually broadened, and I took stock of the lengthy line of people waiting to be handed out their afternoon meal.
Men in ponchos and cloaks patrolled along the circumference and between the crowds. Their veiled forms hiding the weapons either clutched loosely in their hands or hanging on straps over their shoulders. Most of them had their faces visible; an intentional act to not distress their charges while still keeping them wary.
Aside from these men, there were also other individuals moving amongst the crows. Their forms less robust and, to keen observers, slightly smaller. These people were busying themselves assessing the health of the people and to a certain extent attempting to establish a bond with the various groups.
"Move aside, please," a feminine voice asked.
"Oh, right."
Quickly, I moved aside and allowing the person behind me to continue. The figure that took my place was shorter than me and wore the same kind of veil that covered them head to toe like those who were attending the throng. In their hands was a crate full of bundles that were set down and were being handed out quickly to the awaiting people.
She and I weren't the only ones attending the crowd. Altogether, there were two dozen or so newly made operators whose job it was to bring the malnourished crowd of freed slaves up to stable levels for transport back to base.
Operator was perhaps the wrong term. Rather, they were a hybrid specialist of sorts. The full outline of their goal wasn't something I'd given proper definition when I requisitioned them from the Hand. Alongside this objective, they were also tasked with building up a level of trust with the population to make it easier for them to be integrated into the fold.
When her job was done, she quickly moved to the side and allowed the next person to begin distribution. It was at this moment I found myself following her.
"Any particular reason as to why you're not involved in other duties befitting your station?"
"A chance to intermingle with the soon-to-be people of Nod isn't bad."
"I highly doubt freed slaves make for a good civilian workforce, sir."
I shrugged. "It's a start. Better them than already free people with their own will and aspirations."
Our short journey took us into the gaping mouth of the ConYard, our destination being one of the crash seats used for in-between 'packing' transformations. Immediately, I dropped my rear on one of the vacant seats and pulled down the scarf I'd been wearing up until this point before taking a swig of the canteen hanging on my waist.
I turned to note that my 'partner' had taken her own seats. She too pulled down the front of her veil, revealing the youthful face; almost child-like in appearance. From underneath the long cloth, she pulled out her own canteen and drank generous amounts before finishing with a soft sigh.
"How long?" I asked out of the blue as we sat in silence.
"Another day, commander. Surprisingly enough, Benedict didn't find any serious traces of contaminants or disease we have to worry about. There're no trackers either. It's only the people for the most part remain wary of us."
"They have every right to be suspicious, considering that some are going to be put to work again when we get back."
"My Sisters and I have talked how best to approach some of your propositions regarding the future of the families. It goes without saying that we need you to hold off on raiding the other slave sites until we can prepare a proper work schedule that suits the populace."
"Time is not something we have on our side, I'm afraid."
"But we'll never achieve syncretism between our beliefs and that of these people. Slaves or no, it is as you say, this is the best chance we have of learning how well these people reciprocate our ways before we start to expand outwards."
I went silent for a time as I regarded the information giving. Short, vague but arguably within expectations. The fact was I wasn't working within conventions here, and instead branching off to do my own thing based on what I assume the Brotherhood would do. Suffice to say, I was walking on thin air.
A pair of shoes hitting the floor alerted me to my companion's departure.
"I have to oversee the transit plans one more time. I'll send the report to your desk on the latest physical assessment later."
"Right, take care Khayriyyah."
"As you do, Commander."
I watched as the figure walked away and out of the ConYard. Her form being much smaller to the point of being almost child-like. Again, another intentional act.
Khayriyyah and her sisterhood were something I conceived after a long talk with EVA, Rain and the Diplomat, Boman, over the best way to earn the populace trust. The general agreement was that the need for new operators that are able to handle both domestic and social affairs along with the capability to project high emotional empathy to better earn the populace's trust. Their loyalty remained unquestioned as they were working towards the Brotherhood's and by extension my goals.
An alarm from my WMT alerted me to the expected return of the patrol group. Almost immediately, from where I sat, I saw a technical appear over a dune followed by half a dozen others as well as accompanying bikes. This group's return also heralded the return of another group that I knew had been patrolling in the opposite direction.
I stood from my seat and approached the parked vehicles, bringing up my hood along the way to shield myself from the hot climate. The militia gave me space, and some saluted me to which I returned with a nod.
Sergiu was in the midst of discussing something with his fellow squad leaders. One of them noticed my approach which prompted the leader of Squad Three to glance behind him. A quick dismissal, and the man turned on his heels to face me.
"Commander," he greeted.
"No new development?"
"Nothing," he shook his head. "The mining site is vacant, and we've already cleared out what we can from the structures."
"What about the mine itself?"
"It's still open if that's what you're asking."
"And the patrol group?"
"Same thing. There's nothing worth noting."
Lingering unease assailed me at the lack of reaction from the world.
Why weren't we facing consequences by this point? Was what I wondered.
I could forgive the lack of a response from the slavers since we might have caught them at an opportune moment, but the lack of Grimm was for certain to be a sign of ill-omen. Post-attack, I had expected this area to be swarming with Grimm of all kinds like piranhas. Yet, this was day six and there was still no sign of them.
"Sir?"
My inner turmoil disturbed; I addressed the expectant man once more.
"Nothing, good work today," I tapped him on the shoulder. "Get some rest. Same with the men. We leave early tomorrow."
He nodded and left. As the men began to disperse, I took a moment to figure what I wanted to do next before deciding to climb up the same dune that the technicals had crossed over from earlier. The view from the top was the same as that night.
In the early evening sun, the slave site still looked just as imposing as it did that night. However, now that it was devoid of life, the place held a foreboding air about it. The buildings had turned into charred husks, the camps and erected tents where the helots used to live had been mostly trampled and crushed by the Nod patrol groups that had returned the day after. The only thing that lay consistent was the mountain, tall and looming and more so without shadow.
My rear found itself planted on the hot sand below. By now, I knew just how long I could afford to sit in the heat without risk of complications and until then. Time passed, and my mind began drifting between the now and the after. Of the uncertain and the absolute.
"Eeep!"
Their squeak was what I heard first, followed by the sounds of panicked shuffling. Taking a glance, I was met with a curious sight.
A lone figure, definitely a child, was trying to climb up the slope. Helping them seemed unnecessary as they were already nearing the top, having clambered up barefooted.
The sight of the little one's feet on the burning sand caused a twitch in my heart.
Eventually, through sheer force, they'd made it to my side. Even underneath the tattered cowl used to protect themselves, I could make out the trepidation from being watched. Clearly, they were aware I'd noticed them.
Sparing a glance below, I noticed that the rest of their kin was being shuffled back to the temporal camps. Unlike their old abodes, these tents were made out of synthetics and were by far more uniformly in their appearance. As to how they'd snuck out, they apparently didn't as two men were trailing behind them. A mere look from me stopped the two in their tracks, but they were nevertheless vigilant.
My sight returned to the child, and my head tilted pondering what they wanted. I didn't have food on me, and my canteen was close to empty by this point.
For a minute, they just stood there, puckering their lips, shuffling their little feet in place. What caught my surprise was when she bowed.
Unintelligible speech followed, I had next to no clue what was said, but I'd been around enough children before to know what was being said was from the heart. I nodded at every word even when they began crying. Raw emotion unfiltered and dripping with every bit of pain from a lifetime of bondage.
Ugly wails began soft sobs as the child finally composed themselves enough to reach for something within her rags. A soft glimmer was seen that made my heart skipped a beat, my shoulders unknowingly tensed.
Yet, I was proven otherwise when they revealed it to be a stone of sorts. Correction, it was a corundum, a variety of colours reflected from its surface which gave it a unique shine.
One glance told me all that I needed of what the child wanted out of this. Where there was once anguish, there was now a light, a spark of great purity. It was more than enough motivation for me to accept her token.
Carefully, I picked the object from their palm. Internally wincing when I noted just how thick and rough their hand actually was. I made to elaborately inspect the rough stone, even giving it a few rough flicks with my finger for added flair.
Satisfied, I stored it into one of my BDU's pockets. I looked at her again, staring into her eyes… and I nodded. I didn't bother to see the child's reactions as I motioned for one of the militiamen to approach.
He and the other man looked at each before the former shrugged and walked up to me.
"Sir?"
"Your canteen, give it to me."
Naturally, he gave me an inquisitive look, but nonetheless complied. I gave the canister a good shake and guessed it was still half-full. Opening the top cap, I handed the thing to the child.
Warily, they took the canteen and after a few test sips, began drinking its contents in earnest. Upon handing it back, I gave the container another shake and guessed a quarter remained still.
'Good enough,' I thought.
The child was momentarily taken by surprise when I used what water remained to wash the child's feet. Tried as they might to avoid it, I eventually just started grabbing her ankles one at a time to wash each foot.
I took amusement from the youngling's spooked expression after I was done. Checking the time on my WMT, I realised I'd spent more time in the moment than I would've like. Gesturing with my head, I motioned for the child to return to their people to which they seemed just as eager to do so.
With immense curiosity, I watched as they ran down the slope and back to the encampment. At the same time, I handed the canteen back to its original owner and wordlessly began making my way down as well.
Thoughts of my plans for tonight were simple; I'd clean myself, call up Rain for her daily report, and then discuss one last time with my staff of tomorrow's intentions.
As I entered the lift, my hand drifted to the stone in my pocket, and gently caressed it. What should've brought some feeling of elation, in reality was serving as a reminder of what's to come.
Afterall, kindness almost never comes without a price.
"…. the newly expanded pavement is complete; we can begin the actual expansion of the subterranean structures. Engineering is still trying to determine the best layout so as to not disturb the Tiberium mining division."
I nodded.
"Are the defences holding up well?"
"Yes Master. Truthfully, there hasn't been much -if any- engagement happening since you left."
"… I don't like this, Rain. It doesn't add up with what I know."
"Are you afraid that there could be something amiss we aren't aware of?"
"Remember how I told you of the Mt. Glenn incident?" I queried, earning a nod. "While I'm fairly certain we've yet to earn that level of notoriety, the fact of the matter is we should be experiencing an increasing number of base incursions by now. Even if it's just mindless hordes lumbering our way."
"I'm afraid there's little in the way I can do to assuage you fears, Master. The Crawler still remains the most advanced piece of equipment we have at our disposal. Furthermore, you should be aware that we are again approaching the redline."
I winced. "Don't remind me."
Redline. The word in this case meant we were going to go bankrupt if we'd push our spending anymore. It was something we both noticed the right before I departed for the mining complex. Naturally, the week spent waiting for the freed workforce to be healthy enough to be moved did some good for us as it allowed our capital to recover.
"That reminds me. Would erecting another spike increase our resource generation?"
"No, I'm afraid," my aide added with a shake. "The current spike's base coverage has already expanded over a large area. A second spike would just be redundant. More so, we still haven't solved the issue with the dormant Tiberium."
Right, that. "I can't believe there could be such a thing as stunted Tiberium."
"Could be worse, Jared. We could've been ended up having to wait for a meteor to crash land."
"By then I'd just end up renaming the Brotherhood into something more to my liking."
"Oh, really? I wonder what ever that could be?"
I snorted. "Something other than a weather phenomenon that's for sure."
I caught her smirk. "See you when you get back, Master."
"Same here," I replied, then cut off the link.
I leaned back into my office chair and sighed. Who knew running an evil organisation would be like running any other organisation. Namely, everything still needed time to be carried out or processed.
Oh well, at least there's no paperwork this early on, was what I thought but dare not say openly.
Tapping a new command on my desk, I continued reading through the reports from the various sub-divisions forming under me. It was mostly related to the health of the former slaves and the happenings among the militia, but the start of something more cohesive was there and growing. I had to make a mental note to do organisational restructuring once we got back from our mission.
Sometime would pass, and eventually I couldn't ignore the call of sleep. I showered one last time before heading to bed. Perchance, should I dream, then I hope to God that it wasn't something ludicrous.
The eighth day.
Everyone in the base was up early. There was a steady buzz of activity around the ConYard as structures were scuttled, tents and utilities were stored away, and vehicles were brought to life.
From where I stood below the edge of the ConYard's roof, I noticed that even the helots were making themselves useful here and there. Boman watched over them with a small entourage, but outside issues with the language barrier, the extra helping hands were quick to pick up on the basics of storing items and furniture away.
Two hours after dawn passed, and we were ready to leave. The helots were boarded onto modified trucks that were based on the Ural 4320 model.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned to see Sergiu approaching.
"Sir, we're ready to move on your orders."
I nodded. "Any news this morning?"
"No," he shook his head. "All quiet as usual."
I bit my lower lip hearing this. "… Be ready to move fast."
He nodded and brisk walked ahead of me towards his awaiting unit. At the same time, Boman approached me, face maintained in a cool expression.
"The slaves have boarded the transports. I've done what I can to explain where they're going and what they're future holds. Other than that, their lives are in God's and Kane's hands."
"Excellent. You should board one of the transports yourself, diplomat. Should anything happen then the people would know who to look for."
"Oh, and where would you be in the meantime?" Boman asked, eyebrow raised.
"The control room, of course. It's where I belong in this."
He nodded and turned heel towards the fleet of vehicles rearranging into formation.
"Oh, and Boman," I interjected, making him stop and turn his head to glance at me.
"They're not slaves anymore. They're our people now. I expect you to hold them to that level."
I didn't manage to see his facial expressions, but I did catch his delayed nod. With nothing better to do, I turned heel myself and disappeared into the depths of the structure.
"All stations are secured and ready for pack-up, commander."
"ConYard systems are green across the board."
"Detecting no weather anomalies today."
The control room was a flux of reports. Most of which was just people expressing eagerness to leave, and I found myself in agreement.
"Pilot, pack us up. Let's go home."
"Roger that," the man answered. A familiar whirring and groaned filled the air as the structure rumbled out of the sand.
One week, I internally remarked.
One week to arrive. One week to finish. How slow, how sluggish.
I fought to keep down the frustration of the length of time that had passed. All those stories never captured the reality of how movement actually worked and now I was wallowing in the truth that felt like mud in my hands.
And to think we're expected to do this again, I chastised. Briefly, I thought of possible, faster ways to accomplish the goals I sought to do.
"Alert, enemy units sighted."
What?!
Stomping to the table on my right, I brought up the 3d map of the surroundings. The sudden atmosphere shift immediately turned into even more frustration at what I saw.
Three arrows with x-crosses overlapping them. They were on an approach towards the remains of the complex.
I turned to the radar operator.
"Get me drone footage now!"
I then turned to the pilot.
"Set us down!"
Frantically, I brought up the comm channel on my WMT.
"All units, we have hostiles approaching the complex. Standby for possible engagement."
A new tense atmosphere had settled over the control room as each individual worked their trades. The radar operator was the first to report back.
"Getting visual now."
Live footage appeared on a display above me and I observed the oncoming crafts.
"What are they?"
"Looks to be two light attack craft and one heavy weight. Similar to the slave barge but lacking the sheer size."
Processing this, I then turned my attention to EVA.
"Is the formation ready to move?"
"Yes, commander," the intelligence replied. "All units are on standby and await your orders. The slaves are not aware as of this time."
"They are our people now, EVA." I corrected. "Relabel them."
Using a finger, I dragged the display to focus on the amassed vehicles.
It was agreed upon that the mass migration was to be done in a three by two column formation, with Bradley's taking the flanks and bikes forming a much larger, loose circle further away and surrounding the column. Groups of techincals consisting of two to three squads of militia patrolled around the front and back of the column with intention of diverting attacks and buying time for the rest of the formation to escape should the need arise.
There were around five hundred people onboard twenty-one transports. A force thrice that number guarding them. Against three unsuspecting craft, it was downright overkill.
"Does the enemy have backup?" I asked the radar operator.
"Negative, nothing on the drone feeds."
'So not an investigation party,' I inferred.
If that were the case….
"Ice 4 and Ed 2, break formation with Scouts 3 through 7. Intercept that group. No survivors."
I watched two blocks, and four arrows break from the formation. Given the distance, the six technicals and dozen bikes were able to regroup into a single, smaller formation whilst on the move.
A sigh escaped my lips. A feeling burrowed into me; the kind that often followed dire consequences. Taking my eyes off the oncoming engagement, I turned to walk to the front of the Crawler.
Folding my arms, I stared ahead into the empty plains once more. Occasionally, I'd hear bursts from the comms, and snippets of the ongoing battle could be heard. I had no doubt in my mind that the men would emerge victorious and -hopefully- unscathed. Yet, that wasn't what bothered me.
The arrival of the crafts, regardless of the fact they were unaware of our presence, meant that we were getting a reaction. The world was, in small, insignificant ways, reacting to our actions. Surely enough, this group's disappearance and combined with that of the complex would earn the ire of the owners who would no doubt prepare for the worse.
While I have no doubt Nod will win so long as we were thorough in plan and action, the matter that concerned me was control. Even now, the Brotherhood struggled under my leadership just to steal and ferry slaves back. If so, what would it be then when we come across a major settlement?
All of a sudden, I had the feeling I'd just gotten smaller, and more… devoid.
"Enemy destroyed. Mission accomplished."
EVA's sudden report snapped me from my pondering. I turned and walked back to the table. Lo and behold, I was right and that the interception group had suffered next to no casualties. The drone visual feed was broadcasting the wreckages of all three ships, with the militia visibly cheering.
Nodding at the sight, I ordered that the groups conduct a thorough search and gather what they could from the remains. For a moment, I gave some more thought as to what I want to do next before flipping the comm on my WMT.
"Boman?"
"Yes, commander."
"The enemy is vanquished. Begin the migration."
The silence that followed was expected.
"… Pardon, I must've not heard you right. You're saying that you want us to start journey to the base without you?"
"Yes, and I won't be back until I've dealt with the other slave sites. I'll be leaving the administration of the base to you and Rain until I get back."
"… Commander, I have to frankly say that what you're asking is downright dangerous. Not only will we be isolated from one another, but without the crawler, we won't be able to establish the necessary infrastructure to support the populace. The existing structures at the base won't be able to support any more than what we currently have."
"My order is absolute, diplomat. Don't challenge it. Head back to the base with our people this instant and await further commands. I'll inform Rain what to do in preparation for your arrival."
"…."
"Do I make myself clear."
"…. Yes, my commander."
I cut off the link and took a moment to recompose my thoughts. After, I called the militia leader out in the field.
"Ice 4, anything?"
"We found nothing worth noting except for what happens to be empty cargo containers on the largest craft, sir."
'A scheduled shipment then,' I mentally inferred. 'Then, we have no time to waste.'
My gaze fell on the pilot once more. "Set us a course for point Beta."
The pilot nodded and began the packing up the vehicle once more. I then returned to the active call.
"Rally your men to the crawler once more. We're going on campaign."
"Yes, sir."
With my intentions expressed, I was left not much else to do but wait until we arrive at the next site. In the meantime, I had only my mind to entertain me via replaying the endless number of scenarios that may unfold once I inform Rain of the change of plans.
At some point, I started to feel that felling the slavers was an easier task than facing my aide's ire.
Let it be said that Rain's oral skills hit just as hard as her physical strikes. It took me the better part of fifteen minutes of hearing her lectures before I managed to interject and explain what I felt I needed to do.
As mentioned earlier, Nod was starting to make waves in this world. Had we made ourselves scarce immediately after the raid, then I would've just opted to improvise in how we handled ourselves on the second mission. However, that wasn't what happened, and we ended up encountering the enemy once more. I felt that it was more prudent to take advantage and continue with raiding the rest of the sites.
Regardless how small it was, had that shipping group managed to find out the state of the complex and reported back, then we would end up losing a certain degree of the initiative when introducing ourselves to the world. According to my rationale, 'someone' would know that there exists something in the desert, and this may or may not end up being a prompt for investigation.
In comparison, should we make the first move, then we could shift the blame somewhere else. Raze the small, illegal operation and make it seem that it had always been in ruin. In my mind, the difference between taking immediate action and procrastination was too great a disparity.
Yet, Rain didn't back down despite this. Her points regarding my sudden brash decision were sound, and I could understand the level of frustration I was going to subject her to by doing this. Alas, she wasn't the only who could be a nuisance, and I countered back by saying the same thing I did to Boman about my orders.
Our journey took us south this time. Another week passed, and we found what looked to be a small village built in a large circle. A lone tower dominated the centre, and the place partly reminded me of a panopticon, but lacking levels and depth.
Analysing the site took the better part of half an hour as our drones observed the settlement from above.
"Sir, permission to speak."
"Permission granted, operator."
"I don't think a false bartering is going to work here like it did last time."
"Me neither. That'd be too easy anyways."
Looking up, I addressed the intelligence.
"What do you think EVA? Should we prepare to do a frontal assault?"
"I advised against so, commander. A direct assault would directly put the slaves into the crossfire. Furthermore, resulting casualties would be difficult to replace."
Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I returned my gaze towards the developing 3d image of the settlement.
This wasn't a game. Throwing bodies into the grinder won't work and would in fact be in direct opposition to what w- I wished to achieve. Gradually, I began to realise how we got lucky during the raid on the mine.
Yet, we couldn't afford to just leave the settlement either. It was best to assume the garrison was large enough to warrant a serious commitment with our current force. Departing it for the next site would effectively mean we're leaving a rogue element to run freely behind our backs. In addition, we'd lose what remained of our incognito status just as much as if we engaged in wanton destruction.
"If I may, commander?"
A new voice spoke. I could detect the faintest trace of an accent. Turning to look at the source, I noted it was the co-pilot of the crawler. Contrasting his partners Aryan features and bulky build, the co-pilot was stocky and hard brown hair. His face also looked sullener compared to the fierce gaze of his contemporary.
I nodded for him to proceed.
"We could engage in a faux siege. Bait the defenders into thinking their surrounded and have their communications cut off."
"That's an interesting gambit, Bertholdt," the pilot interjected. "But then what happens after?
"Well, so long as we keep them thinking that way. We can afford to have our efforts go elsewhere."
Pilot's comment aside, I gave what the man said a good thought. It was definitely plausible. A brief check on the resource tab of my WMT showed that we'd managed to replenish a moderate sum for which to pull from, and the next slave site was also a week away.
With building speed, a plan began to form in my mind.
"EVA," I called. "Cue a Hand and VAF."
It took us three days of lying in the sands before an opportunity presented itself for us. This came in the form of an approaching fleet of sandskimmers. Altogether, there were seven crafts, and they were none the wiser as they appeared over the horizon.
Having laid in waiting for a while, our force was able to conduct a brutal ambush. Loud and very apparent just as we wanted.
As expected, the slave site's garrison sallied out to face us. Only to run into the rest of our force that was twice their size and had the terrain advantage. Needless to say, the mauling we gave made them think twice before coming out again. Yet, just to be sure, I had ordered the attack bikes to blow the watchtowers on top of having their communications jammed.
With the immediate threat of the site rendered defunct. I was quick to order our immediate departure for the third site. A token force remained to keep up the appearance of the settlement being besieged at all times.
"Enemy base sighted."
Before I gave the word, the blank screen above me flashed and was replaced with an image of the encampment. Even at first glance, it was easy to tell that this place differed from the previous settlement. Namely, from the sheer number of vehicles present.
"This isn't a slave camp," my features scrunched. "It's a motor pool."
"Recommend that we eliminate the base and all personnel, commander," the radar operator interjected.
"Isn't there any other way?" I openly asked.
"Afraid not, sir," the pilot joined. "This is war. Only one side gets the rights for the scraps. You of all people should know that."
I sighed. A part of my self-awareness chastised for such open display, but I couldn't give a damn given how heavy everything felt lately. I just felt tired at the moment.
"EVA," I called. "Get me a base up and start production queue B. Hand out attachments to the militia."
"Affirmative. Building and upgrade in progress," came the curt reply.
Sucking in the stale air of the control room, I took a swig of the canteen on the edge of the table to my right. Bitter coffee splashed down my throat. Not that refreshing, but definitely focus enhancing.
We'd managed to cut down from a week to four days in reaching the next site by travelling through the night. It was tiring, and nobody including me had slept in at the last couple of days. The anxiety in the air was just a direct result of that, and even now I could feel my heart pounding like a piston.
My eyes fell on the outline of the site in the distance. Unlike the mine and encampment, this site had clear flat terrain for kilometres all around. It was by virtue of us appearing in the night that we escaped detection, and even then, dawn would break soon and somebody will notice the strange structure in the distance.
Having known of this beforehand, I spent the previous two days planning and came up with three solutions for the problem. Now, all that's left is for the militia to do their part.
Their part….
"MI does the dying; fleet does the flying." I muttered.
Outside the crawler, the militia gathered around the newly built Hand of Nod mockery.
Men disembarked and leaders rallied to discuss the immediate plans they were to carry out. Time was not on their side, and if they wanted to maintain the element of surprise then they only had within the hour to attack.
Still, that didn't they had to scramble.
Most of those present were seasoned killers by now. While lacking in formal training, they had tasted blood and the glee of fighting. In their hearts, they had the will to carry out their superior's orders.
Alongside their chosen men, the squad leaders walked into the Hand to pick up the newly manufactured gear they needed for the battle ahead. Ten minutes later, they came out holding crates that were dropped on the ground in front of them. Immediately, the men congregated and waited for each crate to be opened.
Before that, one of the leaders climbed on a crate and gave a short impromptu speech on what they could expect in the battle ahead and what they were supposed to do. It was only after that they began the distribution.
For the upcoming fight, each squad was given a limited number of attachments for their weapons; two grenade launchers and one flame thrower attachment. The rest of the squad was either given additional grenades or carried extra ammo for the assigned specialists.
Aside from that, their goal was rather straightforward.
Total wipe and no mercy.
As soon as the men were ready, all of those assembled immediately boarded the technicals or bikes and set forth to the base. There was no backup force this time as their commander wanted as much force committed to the attack as possible. Additional units from the hand were expected to arrive as time went by, but as far as everyone was concerned, they were all that was available for the fight to come.
Sergei once more sat in his technical. His fingers drumming his rifle. Tapping his chest with other hand, he checked himself just in case he had left something, but alas nothing came to mind.
"What I'd do for a smoke right about now."
The leader turned his head to the driver. Like him, he came from the eastern bloc of the old world. Albeit he didn't know him personally there.
"Maybe if this mission goes well, we can ask to see if our dear commander can approve for some fags."
The driver barked. "That wuss would probably flat out deny just because 'smoking bad' or some shit."
"Smearing of any kind against an officer warrants severe punishment, Thirty-three."
"Don't give me that numbers shit," the man growled. "I am Stana, and I'm a follower of Kane."
"And that you will always be," Sergei affirmed. "However, if only you'd happened to be to actually listen to our commander's speeches, then you'll know that he has no intentions of replacing our prophet."
The driver scoffed. "Tell that to the generals after Sarajevo."
Sergei remained silent at this. While his life was ended shortly after the fall of Temple Prime, he was around long enough to know of the growing power dispute within Nod. His and the death of many others can be said were a direct result of this infighting.
Yet, thinking about those men and that of their commander…
"I can assure you this. I don't plan on letting things pan out as it did before."
He said that didn't he? A promise, that was he made… Didn't their old leaders also….
".. Hey! Snap out of it! We're close!"
Stana slammed him across his chest with his palm. Snapping out of his thoughts, he shook his head to clear out the doubts and focus up front.
Sure enough, the motor pool was large enough to the point they could make out details in the buildings. Already the alt bikes had rushed ahead to let loose their first volley.
Pressing an index to his comm bead, he radioed his squad.
"Weapons high and at the ready, men! No survivors!"
The first to strike were of course the attacks bikes and their volley of unguided rockets. Without a specific target in mind, most of the bikers simply opted to hit whatever looked to be important at the time, which included watchtowers, guard posts, emplacements and exposed fuel stores.
The effect was immediate as massive eruptions engulfed the outer areas of the motor pool. Aura or not, those caught within the blast either died consumed by the flames, the shockwave or the shrapnel and debris that were launched by the blast. Only those within the inner areas and to the south were spared, but even then, the suddenness of the situation left many disoriented.
With their part in the opening done, the bikes parted to allow the technicals to push through. Like a battering ram, the lead vehicles punched straight through what remained of the northern gate and headed straight toward the inner areas. Occasionally, individuals would wander into the way of the vehicles and get run over for their folly, much to the annoyance of the drivers.
Upon breaking through the flames, the horde of vehicles began to break off into smaller groups. Each with a simple task in mind.
Those stopping at the centre of the motor pool began making drive-by shootouts of the surrounding buildings. Grenade launchers were used to their fullest to blow holes into the numerous structures around them, each was followed by long bursts of the technical's heavy machine gun for added guarantee. Militants would be dropped in groups of three or four to scour the ruins for surviving stragglers.
Some went straight for what was assumed to be the residential areas. The power of the flame was put to liberal use as the men with flamethrower attachments mounted on their AK's sprayed the buildings they passed by with streams of fire. Occasionally, a garrison's barracks would be identified, prompting no less than three vehicles to encircle and let loose their respective torrents of fire. Those unfortunate enough to escape their burning abodes were gunned down or run over. Eventually, when the fuel for the fire began to dry up, the men used conventional grenades to flush out the remaining survivors.
What remained went the furthest and began striking the remaining, untouched areas of the motor pools in the south. They were joined by the attack bikes that still had spare rockets and together, they made efficient work in reducing the other half of the motor pool to burning cinders.
The morning sky was filled with the roar of fire, the booms and repetitive cracks of violence…. And also, the screams of those afflicted.
Sergiu was on the ground. Without a word spoken, Stana's semitruck followed by his side along with the other two vehicles and their accompanying infantry.
His eyes burned. His nose clogged. Breathing was very hard amidst the intense smoke. Yet, these things didn't burden as much as they should have.
Afterall, they were familiar sensations. Familiar warmth, familiar actions, familiar settings.
Even now, he could hear and see things within the dark clouds and these for were recognizable enough for him to guess which was friend or foe.
If the figures are breaking something or cursing in familiar tongues than don't shoot.
If they cry and plead in any way than put them out of their misery.
The first were numerous, and seeing these shadows at work brought back memories he'd hoped would've stayed buried.
The second were just as numerous and seeing them was like looking into his nightmares.
High pitched screams in the air he silenced by pointing his guns and pulling the trigger. Arms reached out, some too close forcing him to lash out with kicks and jabs with his weapon before filling them with lead. Roving groups of figures would occasionally appear in front or to the sides, and for a brief moment, he was reminded that he wasn't alone in his actions and that his fellow brethren were there to aid him.
Point. Shoot. Move and repeat.
The cycle over and over again as they laid waste to the circuit and snuffed out anything but the raging inferno.
He would turn his head to the back and take heed of his men. Every so often, a pair would break away to throw grenades into the nearby houses. Sometimes, they'd encounter a more fanciful building that was still standing -or at least partly- and they'd break in and sprayed the interior with automatic fire. Like the greater act being performed, these smaller cycles would repeat again and again.
Eventually, they would come across an intersection on the right. Acting on present rationale, Sergiu ordered Stana's vehicle to follow him to check the new street whilst the rest held the position behind him. Four men took up the rear behind the technical, following closely.
Crash.
At the halfway mark, something burst through a wall on their left. Armoured head-to-toe just like the one at the mine albeit this time with a spear.
The technical's gunner didn't wait as they opened fire. However, the armoured man was just as fast and threw his weapon towards the militant. The weapon struck true below the man's ribcage and nearly sent him flying from the vehicle.
Sergiu barely had time to process these events on top of the armoured man jumping from the front of the vehicle and onto the flatbed. The four men that had been trailing behind the vehicle had at first been startled over the gunner's sudden demise, but soon found little trouble in pointing their weapons and shooting.
Bullets bounced off the coloured barrier of the warrior. The man's response was to grab his spear and then jump off the flatbed and into the centre of the group. Grabbing the nearest man, he smashed his nose over his knee before swinging the edge of his spear over another's temple. A militant behind him tried unloading point blank onto the spear-wielder, only for the man to lean right and allow the projectiles to pass him and strike the man behind him. Stunned by what happened, said militant paid the price with the spear being thrust through his head.
All of this happened within a manner of minutes. Movements that simply blurred into one another and hardly traceable with the naked eye.
The spearman got into a stance. They made to advance onto the next vehicle but noticed shuffling below to their left. Gazing down, they noticed the man that had first been snafued propped on one shoulder with his weapon pointed at them. With a quick pull, the militant 7.62 calibre rounds upwards.
Unfortunately, poor grip and body position meant many of the rounds went wild. The spearman was quick to thrust and impale the militant through the heart, twisting their weapon for added pain and forcing the gunman to drop his rifle and frantically grab the shaft.
Pulling the weapon up with a roar, the spearman held both dying body and weapon high in the air. They stared forward and watched with satisfaction as the other men began to shrink back along with their metal contraption. Said roar became a gleeful laugh as advanced step by step.
Their advance would be cut short when their vision was engulfed in flames. This was followed by a familiar sensation of projectiles pelting them.
Having forgotten the two men behind him, both Stana and Sergiu had been quick to take initiative. The former grabbed one of the weapons of the fallen; an AK with a flamethrower attachment and proceeded to let loose the flames. The latter was quick to enter a knee stance and fire with absolute precision downrange.
Seeing this, the remaining squad members added their own fire downrange. Care was taken to avoid another friendly fire case, but this didn't stop each individual from unloading their entire magazine into the spearman.
The effect was immediate as the armoured man's barrier burst apart. Another spray of flames made them start screaming in agony.
Rifle continued to be administered until the figure finally toppled over, a burning corpse indistinguishable from plate and flesh. His polearm fell as well, but two men were quick to catch it and set it down carefully for the sake of their kin.
Despite the state of the corpse upon closer inspection, the squad leader didn't hesitate to stomp on the head hard enough to break the brittle surface, followed by a tight horizontal spray from one end to the other. To his side, Stana added his own insult by spitting on the corpse.
Danger gone, but more men dead. A sigh escape Sergiu as his sights turned towards his surroundings.
The burning buildings and men were now all too familiar.
To him, these were just another evidence of the kind of familiar hell he'd walked into and had no want to stay in for long.
"Everyone!" The squad leader called out. "Form up and let's move! We will mourn our brother's later."
"…,"
For a while, the soldiers merely stood there, shackled in place. A burst of gunfire shook them from their stillness.
"I SAID, MOVE IT YOU MUTTS! YOU WANNA DIE, GO AHEAD AND THROW YOURSELVES INTO THE DAMN FIRES!"
Their leader's outburst finally got the remaining members of the squad into action. They began by collecting the bodies with the exception of the spearman whom they threw into the nearest burning building. Amazingly, Stana's gunner had survived getting impaled, albeit he was bleeding out severely when they found him.
Sergiu watched on as the men picked themselves up. He spared a look at his driver who was attending to the injured gunner as best as he can while another man inspected the mounted machine gun.
A blare from his comm bead alerted him of a development. It couldn't have been at a worse possible time.
"All squads! Retreat immediately! Repeat, retreat! You're about to be overrun!"
"What?! Why!" someone shouted back.
"Grimm hordes sighted! Their inbound for the motor pool!"
Well that just fucking fitted.
No! No! No! No! No! No!
NO!
NO!
NO!
Crack!
DAMN IT!
The glass below me cracked. The light projections flickered for a bit but somehow managed to maintain their projections despite the damage inflicted.
Pulling my hand back, I brought both my palms and ruffled my hair as I let out a half-growl, half sigh. My head itching after hearing the latest development.
Of all times, the Grimm had to strike now. Just when we were committed to the assault. For reasons I had no idea why, the damn beasts had decided now was the best time to come for a buffet and, goodness, they brought their entire family along!
At a range of forty-two kilometres and closing, there was not one but two Grimm hordes approaching fast. EVA has set an estimate of fifteen minutes before the fastest of the beasts reached us, and an additional ten for when the rest of their kin caught up with them.
Right now, given that the bulk of my forces were committed to the current assault, the ConYard was practically defenceless save for one or two units on standby for the rest of their group to be completed.
I turned to look at the pilot. "Get us packed! We're leaving!"
"EVA," I craned my head upwards. "I want a sensor post dropped right below us. Convert it for comms and to handle the drones."
Finally, I looked at the radar operator. "Keep watch and inform me as the situation develops."
All of these orders were met with their respective confirmations. My mind hardly registered as I brought up the WMT comm.
"All units, head west. All bikes, engage with the enemy and stall them. Technicals, prioritise bringing the wounded first."
With all of it said and done, I was left to simply observe and prepare snap commands if the need arises. Yet, I found troublesome thoughts trying to worm its way up my spine.
Had we overextended?
What about the siege group and the migrators?
Was the base suffering from attacks?
More and more of these maggots began to breed and make their way into the back of my head. I could taste it now, and I was damn near tempted to start biting my tongue.
Then, there was this god forsaken itch on my head!
"Sir, we have a situation."
I eyed the WMT. That voice was Squad Two's leader, wasn't it?
I raised the device and spoke, "Report."
"Sir, there numerous slaves and unarmed personnel here. They're out of the buildings like ants. What do we do Sir?"
"….,"
"Sir, Sir! Respond! We need orders."
"Ignore them and get out. Don't stop for nothing!"
"Get them out of the way, dammit!"
He was pissed.
Pissed at the fact he had to get roped into some damned boy's fantasy. Pissed that he was in servitude to a mockery of the brotherhood he served faithfully all his life. Pissed that he couldn't even get any fags because his superior was an 'oh-so-noble' soul with dreams of being better than the one who truly was above and beyond them all!
PISSED THAT THESE RAGGED SHITS! JUST WON'T GET OUT OF THE DAMN WAY!
By Kane, he could've run over these idiots if it didn't put for guy on the back at risk of bleeding whatever blood was left in him. That, and there were too many people on the streets that it made it difficult to manoeuvre to begin with.
He slammed the glass behind him. "Get these guys of the damn road! How the fuck are gonna get out?!"
Nothing happened at first. Then gunfire erupted behind him on the flatbed. This had the almost opposite effect by making the mob drop their heads. A second burst flew this time over their heads, and that was all that was needed for them to clear the way.
The driver of the technical didn't hesitate to gun it right after that. He had heard over the radio of the direction they needed to go, and his squad leader confirmed as much. His vision became a blur of corners and corners as the vehicle went from between Gears 3, 4 and 5 repeatedly.
'Maintenance is going to be a bitch,' he grumbled to himself.
"Stana! Turn left up ahead. We've got friendlies on an adjacent street."
Looking left, he found the leader's words to be true enough. Barely, he could make out the shape of a technical between the gaps. Now, just how good he could make that turn was the question.
"Look out!"
Shit!
She had no time.
This place was burning.
Captors and bonded were fleeing.
She had to take the chance. This was perhaps the only time they'd have to escape.
Her will was the only source of strength to move her bones.
It fed on her desire, one she kept bundled and fed well at all times.
The times were not easy, but she managed to make do even if it hurt her body in many places to do so.
Besides, there had been people too. Guards that were of want. Fellow bonded who still retained some lingering humanity behind their eyes.
On days that she thought things were unbearable. The source of her will drove her on. Even now it did so as they ran past huts and tents that contained so many memories.
Her feet trampled on white sand. It burned, but she was used to it. The smell was something else. Even in all her time here, she never thought she'd wade through black clouds this thick.
It made hard to see.
Perhaps, that was why she couldn't react in time when the bright light grew closer.
She had no time to react as the light swerved and was replaced by a strange white surface that took up her entire view. It crashed into her with immense force that it sent her flying.
Pain erupted from her back, and it became hard to breath.
But it did not matter….
Her bundle was more important. Such was the terrifying speed that she had no time to shield herself.
Working past the pain, she took a look…
The world went silent.
He could feel the churn in his stomach. Breathing was hard, it made his stomach want to empty its contents. He didn't know why both his feet felt so damn cold at that moment.
….. It was because of that figure. It had to be.
Why the hell did they have to stand in front of a speeding truck? Where was the common sense? Just why, why damn it?!
It made no sense, and neither what he did next.
The burning touched his nose and eyes once more as he stepped out of the truck. AK in hand, he made his way around the front and towards the right of the vehicle, hoping to catch the figure.
He found the figure, and something else.
Before him was a walking skeleton. It was black-skinned, almost unnaturally so. What little hair remained only accumulated around the edges of the ears and back. It wore rags just those slaves their 'commander' had so wanted to save so badly. It held something in its arms, a bundle if he wasn't mistaken.
Howls permeated the air, past the crackling of the flames. He paid no heed to them.
Eyes trained on the figure and its closely held cargo, he approached with the barrel pointed down. The figure took notice and turned to regard him with beady eyes and swollen, blistered lips.
Worry left him. Entranced as he was at the sight.
The figure then turned back to the bundle, which had turned soggy for some reason. Steadily, they rocked the bundle and blew sound through their mouth like a flute made from a rusted pipe.
That was when something filled him. A feeling, or something else, and it had wanted him to leave the figure. It pleaded with him, ordered him, did everything it could to not get him to look at what the figure held.
But he looked anyway.
And within the bundle, broken, and severely disfigured, there was no mistaking the shape in it.
That from before…. It didn't leave, it died. He was left alone, and in this moment of isolation, he felt something brush with him.
He made to run.
Before he could break into a sprint, there was a sudden pull and the feeling of him being dragged into a confined space. Obviously, he fought back, but his weapon was missing, and the cold state prevented him from having a proper reaction. For his folly, his lower jaw was rocked hard.
The heat of the world returned too, somehow.
"Get a fucking grip on yourself, soldier!" Sergiu's roar ringed in his ears. "Close the damn door! We're leaving."
Wordlessly, he closed it and he felt the vehicle accelerate ridiculously fast in a short time. His body swayed in his seat without the harness to arrest his momentum, yet this didn't bother him.
For in the corner of his eye, he caught the figure still sitting behind the corner. Rocking a lullaby, he knew little of.
The remains of the assault group made its way quickly out of the remains of the motor pool.
Or what we assumed at first to be a motor pool.
If it had been something else altogether, then it was apparent that we will never know now. Not with the place up in flames.
Not with the Grimm bearing down on them.
The last of the Nod militia arrived just as the Grimm entered. Some made to follow us but were easier dissuaded in favour of an easier meal. Even still, I'd didn't dare let us stop until we were so far away that the smoke from the settlement was a line on the horizon.
The crawler fell onto the sand. The quadruped had reached the closest it could ever be to being tired. Its crew was no different, and even I found myself down on one knee, holding onto the side of the projection table for dear life.
"Status," I sucked in my chest. "Are we in the clear?"
"Confirmed," EVA declared. "No hostiles within the immediate area. Our forces are also relatively safe, but in need of aid."
I nodded, then slowly made my way to the intercom.
"All crews, stand down. Maintenance and repair teams, begin damage assessment. Medical crew, exit through the rear and get a triage unit up and running."
My strength left me, and I lay with my back to the wall below the intercom. I pulled both my legs up and simply sat there for a while.
"….,"
"You said something, Bertholdt?" I heard the pilot asking lethargically,
"… I wanna drink, Reiner."
"… Yeah, me too," the pilot turned to me. "What do you think, commander?"
I looked up from between my knees to regard the man. Morality called out to me to decline, but one look at those around me within the room proved otherwise.
My mind overrode my sensibility, and I was aware that if these men were at their breaking point, then the same could be said of those down below and outside the crawler.
"I want a list," I swallowed. "We'll start dispensing at night fall once the area is cleared."
"Okay," the pilot nodded. "Bless you, commander."
With that done, I lowered my head and embraced the darkness. Not for a long time, definitely, but just long enough that I could get fresh once more and start walking again.
My job wasn't over yet. The men down below need to be debriefed, and we still needed a plan on what we did next.
The only thing I knew for certain was that I wasn't going to like the explanation I got. Afterall, it came down to that moment of realisation from earlier.
That the supposed 'giant motor pool' was not simply just that. For if the open comms weren't enough, then the visual feed from the drones were ample proof of the sin I'd done.
And what's worse, I was starting to feel less and less remorse.
Oh God, what sort of monster was I slowly becoming?
A/N: CUT! Another publish! Man, this was tiring but fun to do! Suppose this chapter was a big roller coaster, yeah? Fun times I guess.
We'll get to the wider scope in due time. A story unfolds best over the course of chapters.