Chapter 10: Return to Base
She was awake far earlier than everyone else. As usual.
Stepping into the bathroom, she turned on the overhead lights and studied herself in the mirror. Outside of her hair that now only reached her shoulders, the rest of her well-maintained physique looked wholly unchanged. Hence, she continued with her morning rituals and was stepping out of her abode half an hour later.
Her residence was the third building on the right facing the mountain. Built in the ways of Nod, it was a squat building with a wide base and a small flat top. Externally, it could be mistaken as fortification, and like many things Nod-like it could very well switch from being a demesne to a dependable bunker on the fly. Even now, as she exited, the reinforced door sealed itself shut, and the whole building seemingly collapsed downwards, leaving the resemblance of a giant jar in place.
Pivoting on her heel, she began walking across the wide street that was the sternum of the base, heading in the direction of the mountain. It was still mostly pitch black in these twilight hours, but the path was familiar enough she didn't have to worry of getting lost.
The guards assigned to the night shift could be seen making their finals rounds. They were tense, but not stressed out as it may seem. Rather, they seemed keen on putting up a front when they knew she was in proximity.
It was a given considering what happened to the last man she'd caught sleeping on duty.
Her destination was the communication centre that doubled as the information centre for the base. The structure had grown considerably from the small square bunker with a satellite dish to a large complex half-submerged into the ground with not one but two radio mast along with a much larger satellite dish. Flanking the front facing the desert were heat vents for the underground servers.
The guard by the door gave her a salute as she passed. She returned the gesture and entered. The first thing to greet her was the long hallway to her left. It would seem to be a rather empty place save for the small, recessed slits that served as windows to the outside, along with the fluorescent lights in their iron cages on the ceiling and along the edges where walls met the ceilings.
Bringing up her left hand, the WMT did its work in transmitting her ID for the internal security. It was one of the things her master had pressed for improvement given the excessive ease of interface many buildings of the Brotherhood seemed to have.
With a pleasing ping, the lane at the centre of the room began to lower to form a stairway leading below. She followed the newly made path until the end where she was met with a door awaiting new credentials.
Using the WMT once more, the door opened to the side, and she stepped into a vast room.
Unlike the cramped, claustrophobic interior from back when the base was first built, the current underground information centre was wide enough for two people to walk side by side between console stations. As the engineer in charge of the improvements described, it was akin to 'someone successfully opening a casino in a mall's parking lot.'
Operators sat silently at their stations monitoring their respective sections of the base. Despite its namesake, the comms centre functioned more so as the central nerve for all actions taken on site, ranging from everyday tech problems to formal reports and complaints on security, and recently, vigilance over the newly acquired populace of Nod.
She made her way to the other end of the room where her desk was located. It was neat, orderly and lacked the kind eclectic mess that her master often favoured. Sitting down, her attention was immediately set on the morning reports.
The injured from the 7th Patrol Group had fully recovered from their injuries after the incident with the Grimm two months ago.
Dr. White was still conducting tests using his latest setup and so far, the results have ranged from disappointing to nil. His science team has pushed to move forward in using the new minerals that were procured from the commander's raid on the mining site.
Engineering was reporting a staggering six percent increase in base development. Given that they were expecting new residents soon, it was important that they find ways to increase their ability to produce more infrastructure and support complexes to accommodate both homunculi and regular human residents.
The role of base commandant was plain logical given that her master had next to no one to trust in this new world. Sifting through the remaining morning paperwork, she took her time scrutinising each one, ensuring that there would be no obvious holes or exempted details.
Hours would pass silently as the room continued its solemn function. Occasionally, a request would be passed on to her for reviewing and final approval.
"Alert, enemy units sighted."
She cocked upward at the sudden break in the silence. A few meters ahead of her was one of the most recent additions of the room, a lesser version of the projection table used on her master's Crawler that used basic two-dimensional imagery on a topographic map of the surroundings. The previous table had been dismantled, but its frame was kept and now served as her own personal work desk.
"Explain EVA," she asked.
"Multiple Grimm entities sighted. Class M variant, Beowulf."
"Do we have a force on intercept?"
"Already done, Ma'am," an operator interjected. "Patrol 29-Beta observes, and is moving to engage."
She nodded. "Keep me posted."
Pulling a drawer, she brought out a simple clipboard. Flipping a few pages, she deftly jotted down the latest development.
14th Day, 3rd Month: 21st Grimm incursion, Class M variant.
"Oi, you see it!"
"Damn right I do. Move left and give me a clean shot."
He punctuated this by slamming the roof of the technical on the left side. With a renewed roar, the truck leaned one side, coming parallel to the horde.
It wasn't a particularly big like the ones he'd heard from previous patrols, but the upside was he got to add seven more to his kill tally. Now, if only there was some kind of prize to go with it.
Pulling the charging handle back,he opted to wait a bit until the vehicle began to out speed the fast-moving creatures before firing.
Lessons from his seniors and personal experience kicked in. His sights were aimed not at the front most black wolf, but at a larger variant two bodies behind it. He fired the Ma Deuce in single shots first to piss it off, immediately earning a reaction in the form of a howl.
Without warning, the truck took a hard left, forcing the gunner to reflexively widen his footing. Readjusting his stance, he noted much of the horde had turned with them and was chasing after them. The only exception were the large beast and two smaller variants that continued making their way in the direction of the base.
'Still according to plan,' he thought.
Smiling, he set his sights on the closest beast and fired. Switching to fully automatic, he let out controlled bursts. Occasionally, he'd switch targets if one of the other beasts got too close.
One, two, thr-
AH!
The floor below him jumped, sending his aim wild and puncturing two holes in the back door of the truck.
"What the hell?!" He roared behind him.
"Sorry!"
Cursing to himself, he tried to manoeuvre the gun continue firing, only to realise it had gotten jammed and was now locked in place facing downwards.
'Shit.'
He reached for the AK to his right. Pulling back the handle, he set his sights on the remaining beast and fired, using the driver's cabin to steady his aim and lessen the recoil.
The 7.62 calibre rounds mostly went wide or bounced off the skull of the beast. Yet, every hit served to fuel its ire and in turn drive it closer to the vehicle, making it an even bigger target than before. The gunner took advantage of this fact to start hitting the hide on the beast's chest and below the head.
Click.
"Oh, son of a…," he fumbled for a new magazine.
"What's taking you so long back there, dammit!"
"Shut up, and just drive!"
Hastily dumping the old and slamming the new mag in, the militant resumed firing. This time, his shots found purchase, and, with a surprised yip, the beast began to slow down, limping.
"Got it!"
"Nice job!"
The beast finally stumbled over, rolling across the sand before finally coming to a stop on one side. The gunner watched as the distance grew between them, but noted the lack of ash.
He turned to the driver. "Oi, we need to turn!"
"What, why?!"
"Gotta make sure it's dead!"
The driver remained silent at first, before reluctantly performing a U-turn.
Switching mags once more, the gunner approached the other end of the truck and looked over the side as they neared the creature. Upon closer inspection, he noted that the creature was barely hanging onto life as is. With its mouth agape and tongue sticking out, it seemed to him as just a big dog with the ugliest fur he'd ever seen.
"Tch," he brought up the AK and let loose a long burst into the creature's exposed underside, earning a low growl. This time, the beast went utter still and a moment later began breaking apart into the air.
He watched in fascination as the beast became one with the air. Instinctively, he brought a hand up to cover his lower face, unnerved as he was at the strange occurrence.
"Hey, we done here?" The driver asked, impatient to get underway.
"… Yeah, get us out of here," the gunner held onto the railing behind the cabin as the technical lurched forward across the sands.
Following they'd left across the sands, they soon met up with the rest of the patrol. There three other technicals idling around the area where they originally lured part of the pack away.
On one of the vehicles, one of the two men standing on the flatbed addressed them.
"What took you so long?"
"The Ma Deuce is bent," replied the gunner. "You can thank Hisham for it."
"Hey!" the driver snapped.
The other man grumbled. "Well, fall in line if you think you're still good. We've only got the last stretch to cover, and it'll be the end of our shift."
The gunner nodded in confirmation. Not even bothering to ask for the driver's consent.
"Hey, look there!" someone called out.
No less than five heads turned in the direction pointed.
"What is it?" the third man asked.
"I thought I saw something big waddling over there."
The men stared a bit into the darkness. The sky was dark, mixed with a blue tint that marked the crack of dawn. Yet, visibility was still barely palpable without aid.
Opting to remedy this, the third man took out a pair of binoculars on his person. Using his middle finger to fiddle with the settings, he activated the low light mode and brought them up to his eyes.
It took a moment for the effect to kick in, but aside from the usual dunes, he began to notice and irregular shape out in the vast expanse. He could make out what appeared to be massive limbs dragging a large body across the desert. A tingling at the back of his head served to alert him that this was in fact a familiar presence.
That was when the radio came to life.
"Attention base, this is Terror One. We are approaching from the southwest at 45 degrees. Any patrolling units near our location, do not engage. Repeat, do not engage."
Upon hearing the voice over the radio, the men straightened themselves a little more than usual.
"Alright, last test. How many fingers I'm holding up?"
"Three."
"What are the letters on the screen?"
"F, U, M, D."
"Huh?" Blinking, the medical professional turned to look at the screen and read the letters himself.
"Looks like someone got bored."
"Well," the doc shrugged. "Guess I'm not the only one here needing a test."
"Can I go now, doc?"
"Yes," he sighed, picking up a clipboard and writing a few notes. "This should put you in the all clear, Hassan. However, do report if you have any irregularities in the future."
"Like hell, I'm not sitting around here for another two months playing birdie so that you shrinks have something to do."
"Hey," he glared. "For the record, you're the one who was trapped in a coma for over a month to begin with, Mr. Number One Casualty."
"Shouldn't that go to Ibro or Gabir?"
"Well, too bad. They aren't here to concur," the man's expression softened a bit. "Seriously, though, do take care. Last thing we need is more casualties as is."
This made the militant raised an eyebrow. "What makes you such a softie? Thought you docs were supposed to be even nuttier than a Black Hand with Kane's handprint."
He shrugged. "Reasons. We all have our ways to end up under Nod."
The response was far from satisfying, but Hassan never got to press when a droning sound reverberated around him. It was a long, drawn-out tune. There could only be one reason for it.
"Well, I'll be damned," the militiaman lit up with glee. "They're back!"
Those were the only words spoken before he rushed out of the room.
"Don't forget your vest!"
A hand reached from the other end of the doorway to grab the aforementioned item, prompting a smile from the medical specialist.
There was commotion outside the base. Hearing the news of the Crawler's return had been like thunder to the worms. Most, if not all the personnel on-base had gathered to the sides of the main road that took up the centre of the base. All eyes watched as the massive crawler made its way forward.
Hassan joined them. Exiting through one of the many portals that led into the subterranean levels, he jogged the remaining distance to the back of the crowd, fiddling with the straps of his vest all the way. Squaring his shoulders, he gave his new gear a nice pat on the chest before merging into the gathered masses.
It was right on time too. Call it the fortune of the Divine; that the first thing he'd see after being fully released from medical would be the mechanical architect of the people. The sight of the quad-legged giant filled him with no small amount of excitement after months of inaction.
Those around him mirrored this.
"Wonder what they found out there?"
"Damn looks like they came out of a world of hurt."
"Betting you Tobey's gonna forget to file in the reports."
"Hey," a man patted his fellow's shoulder. "Look there!"
Those around them who'd heard him immediately turned to look at those tailing the massive vehicle. Suddenly, there came a change of air.
"Check it out, man. Aren't those Bombadiers?."
"Oh, man. Talk about oldschool…"
"Think again, dumbass. Those are howitzers. Looks like Caesars."
Unlike the Crawler, Hassan couldn't see the newcomers. This prompted him to gently ease through the crowd, earning the occasional 'hey' and prompting a quick apology in return.
Eventually, he reached the front and what he saw intrigued him.
It was apparently the Crawler's guard force, but they were far different from the ones he used in the recent past.
Each vehicle sported a different series of changes. Technicals now had the machine gun in the front and above the passenger seat of the driver's cabin whereas the flatbed sported two flamethrowers.
The Bradley's had claw marks, and some were missing weapon pieces such as the barrel for their guns or the missile mounts.
The bikes were the only ones still somewhat similar, but their riders now sported a wholly different fatigue than the ones in use by base security personnel.
Speaking of fatigues, the returning fighters now wore proper attire befitting trained fighters. The monocular goggles were a familiar, if discomforting concept, but those amongst the front of the crowd were quick to notice the Veterans insignia worn proudly on the breasts of the men.
There was also the wheeled Self-Propelled Guns at the back of the convoy. Those were most certainly not a part of their arsenal as far as anyone was concerned.
BAM!
The crowd ducked at the sudden gunshot in the air. Their confusion was soon turned to one of the vehicles in the force. Said vehicle had come to an abrupt halt and was belching smoke from its underside. The occupants of the vehicle were quick to scramble out with their equipment. Several technicians burst from the crowd carrying fire extinguishers to douse the vehicle before it could erupt anymore violently.
As this happened, the rest of the force continued moving forward behind the Crawler. Eventually, the vehicle reached the end and settled down into its designated platform, effectively becoming the ConYard that everyone was familiar with.
From the maw of the ConYard, there emerged a figure in black BDU. His head was covered by a black balaclava, leaving only a visible hole for both eyes and nose.
Dark eyes scanned the vicinity. Immediately, he noted the disparity between the bystanders looking perplexed off to the sides and those in the centre directly in front of him tending to their wounded.
Wasting no time, he began helping those on the nearest technical down from the flatbed. With the aid of another man, they began bringing down the injured one by one, their bodies gently being laid on the ground.
It soon occurred, however, that there was a distinct lack of professional aid coming to address them.
The masked man turned to the still standing crowd. Feelings of bewilderment and equal parts disgruntlement building up.
"What are you waiting for!" He screamed. "Move it, you all!"
Whether it was because of the noise from the numerous idle engines -or the seeming lack of want to follow the command of their peer- the crowd remained standing where they were.
Rolling his eyes whilst grumbling, he tore off his mask to reveal a familiar black-haired youth. Only, without mask, his fatigue was far more visible now.
"Get over here and help us!" he squalled. "What do you take us for, a parade?!"
At first, there was no reaction as all of those present needed a split-second to register just who they were looking at. When they did, it came like a tidal wave and all semblance of hesitation evaporated instantly.
The first to react was none other than Hassan. Only, rather than following with the crowd towards the vehicles, he ran back underground and headed straight towards the medical wing.
He all but flung the double doors open, startling the doctor and nurse present, the latter eliciting a subtle squeak and nearly dropping the clipboard in her hand.
"Doc! We need medics topside now!" the militant adjured.
A blink was that was needed for Benedict to grasp the reason for the sudden request.
Turning to the nurse by his side, he immediately detailed. "Call up all the teams from the first and second fleets. Have the third on standby."
Without an audible response, the nurse nodded and ran out of the room, brushing pass Hassan on the way out.
"And you," the doctor pointed at the militant. "Find Ase, he should be coming back from Storage Four. Tell him to prep the surgery chamber."
Like the nurse, he simply nodded and then ran off.
Silence filled the room, but the doctor knew this to be only temporal. A sense of invading nausea was beginning to fill from the bottom of his feet, and he had a feeling that he'll be needing more than a tablet himself by day's end.
What greeted her when she arrived was controlled chaos.
Having seen how the situation devolved from the underground control room, she'd coordinated the appropriate response by ordering base security to slowly cow the crowd back and allow medical personnel to assess the wounded. Engineering teams were already enroute to secure the damage vehicles and bring them for repair or salvage.
With the order of things done, she left her station to see him.
She found him standing there off in front of the ConYard. His appearance rather spent and his posture slightly crooked. As he was watching the last of the men disperse and head their separate ways, one lone militant approached. They shared hushed words, if the man's face was anything to go by then there was a distinct lack of cordial formality between them. The Veteran Insignia did not go unnoticed by her.
"…. See to it. Tell the men they've earned a full week's rest. There'll be a proper ceremony to be had once I get settled in on the base activity."
The militant nodded with enthusiasm upon hearing the words of his leader. He then turned heel and began walking away. That left only the two of them standing in the now vacant avenue.
"…. Rain," came a low voice in greeting.
"Master," she replied back softly.
A tired sigh. "To my quarters. We'll discuss there."
She merely nodded and followed at a respectable space behind him. Along the way, she noted how much the condition of the massive mobile fabricator had changed.
When they first arrived, she noted how the MCV had sported a clean look as if it had come straight out of the factory line. The crew that had come to man the massive vehicle also looked likewise. Now, there was distinct scarring from battle and clear signs of overstraining can be heard from the vehicle's mechanisms. The occasional crew members that were still present reflected this; many sported dark bags under their eyes, and most no longer seemed to care of clothes regulation as they went about in sleeves, revealing soot covered arms and dirtied bandages.
Still, Rain held off in asking until the two of them reached the guaranteed privacy of his room and the two were seated. Even then, she allowed him to collapse and settle in his chair before reaching out.
"What happened?" she asked, clear and concise. There was no response from the slumped figure, and she figured he had passed out.
"…. Many things Rain," he suddenly spoke, his voice soft but firm. "We did succeed, but at the same time not."
"How?"
His head craned up to look at her. "Many things," he repeated, face still sullen. "Some came up at the last possible moment. Others were just far out of our control."
A brief moment of silence fell between them.
"Care to elaborate?"
"We managed to reach the Third Site, but I failed to take account of the Grimm and ended up getting chased across the damn desert. Eventually, we were able to vanquish them, but we lost a lot of men in the process."
"…. Then there's nothing we can do then to move on and rebuild," she stated. "If we start now, then we can have a force ready to move by next month. However, I should think that we build up the base infrastructure first."
"That's actually the reason why I'm back."
"Oh, really now?"
"Like I said, the campaign yielded some success," he adjusted his seating. "We got around to eventually capturing all three points on our journey."
"So, what is the plan now?"
"Now, we take a step back from the action and rest. Before you say anything, I've men down there that have been through hell and back for me. Their loyalty has been tested and been found worthy. You should already be aware of the Veteran's Rank they wear, and just so you know, I awarded each of them personally."
"…."
Rain wisely chose to remain silent at her superior's short tirade. She noted that as he began leaning forward, the darkness in his eyes was apparent. It wasn't one of malice, just pure weariness from a harsh journey.
Carefully, she took her time to phrase her next words.
"Very well, then," she made to stand. "If that's the case, I will take my leave. You yourself look in need of a cleanup and rest. It would seem as if you weren't spared just as much in returning here."
He let out a dry bark hearing that. "Like I had much choice on the matter. Still, lucky me for catching on quick."
She ignored the cynical remark. Instead, making her way to the door.
"Rain!"
She paused; hand outstretched to unlock the barrier to the outside. Turning her head and shoulders to face her leader, the first thing she noted was the sudden change in his features. They had softened despite the earlier jaded look. His posture leaned forward on the desk with both hands forward and clasped to allow his chin to rest upon them.
"Just know, nothing makes me more at ease right now than being home. From what I've seen in brief glimpses, you've done great at managing the base despite your limited resources. Wording my gratitude doesn't do it justice, but nonetheless, thanks for holding down the fort while I was gone."
Hearing this, her own features took a neutral expression.
"Think nothing of it. We all have our roles to play after all."
"Can I at least do anything for you right now that's within my power?"
"You can start by fabricating body odour control. I'd also recommend a barber to get your facials in order."
"How about anything that doesn't involve reminding me of my hygiene problem?"
"Then, how about you do something about that busted lip?"
"Hoh? Like my battle scar?"
"You could get mistaken for a mutant given time, Master."
"Hey! That's a low blow!"
Hours would pass by before she finally encountered him again.
She had received a notification to gather all of those in charge of staff at the ConYard's control room. Currently, in clockwise fashion, there was , a representative from Engineering and Medical, along with three militants. Her own adjutant stood behind her with all the presence of an out-of-place wall. They were the only ones present, the regular Control Room personal had been given leave for the week with the rest of the campaign host.
As they awaited their leader's arrival, she overheard the discussion amongst the armed men.
"…. crazy fool now picks fights nearly every day if he can. Persistent idiot that one, but he's getting better."
"As if he couldn't already be any more disappointing."
"Hey! I never said he sucked ass. Kid's no Slavik, but he'll grow. That, and, at the very least, he's not gonna hang you at some lamp post as a warning."
"I still fail to see how that serves the Brotherhood's future."
"In time, my friend. Like Stana says, he needs guidance and a helping hand to get into the flow with the rest of us. Him picking fist fights and losing doesn't mean he's a bad general. As a matter of fact, we've been doing better once he began reorganising us. I'm willing to bet he's going to do the same improvements here soon."
"We'll see about that."
A mechanical hiss had everyone looking at the door. Their leader stood there, neat and tidy. However, one look in his eye and it was clear that something had changed in his demeanour.
There was a coldness to him. Not hostile, nor malicious. Just a small level of impassiveness that must've only recently frozen over him.
"Gentlemen," he regarded before turning to her. "And lady."
He then turned to the militants.
"I assume all the men are settled down, Sergiu?"
"Correct, sir. I also happened to receive your message. Control says they'll have the crates handed out. That was hours ago, by the way."
"Good, and I'm glad that you and Stana have the decency to not join in the revelry just yet," the leader praised.
Attention was then turned to the rest of the room.
"Now, let's begin with the debriefing for the campaign."
Within the first five minutes, the atmosphere turned from one of chilling to above adequate. Rain noted the passion in his speech, but also the clinical tone that was clearly a result of continuous practice.
She and all the others gathered listened intently as their leader and the two Militia -who they now knew were officially promoted officers- explain with detail their experiences across the desert. The part where the first brawl between commander and subordinate broke out was worrisome in her mind, but it would seem as if her master had managed to solve it on his own, albeit in a bizarre manner.
Eventually, they reached the part after they had captured Point 4, which also apparently got renamed to Zoo Gate.
"The return trip back, was no easier," their leader began. "Our initial assaults had caused every Grimm within the immediate area to spike in aggression. This was an entirely an oversight on my part and I should've been more keen to seek diplomatic means before engaging in battle."
"That doesn't sound right, kid," interjected the base defence leader. "We've been dealing with these black furries for the time that you were gone, and we haven't had a time where we were close to getting overwhelmed by them. How come a flash raid like yours managed to rile them all up?"
"It varies greatly. Mind you, these 'black furries' as you call them don't have any other need than to hunt humans. They may display animal behaviour, but they don't have a metabolism of any living being. A Grimm could detect remote negativity from a human that is days away and will immediately start running towards the source once they do so. Older ones may display self-preservation, but that just means they'll try to be sneak around and wait until they could get the drop on us like they did on Point 4."
"Still, not seeing how they're supposed to be threatening."
"Then, why not I take you for a spin outside, eh?" all present turned to Stana, who had a wild look on him. "We'll do camping for a few days. See how long it takes before we got some freaks on us. I can vouch you'll be losing your shit by the third day."
Whatever the response was supposed to be, their leader quickly cut them off.
"Continuing on, we had to take a detour just as the first time in order to stretch the Grimm out and surgically eliminate them. They were the reason why the campaign went from three weeks to over three months. It's also why I wanted those outposts set up."
On cue, the holotable lit up. Showing the constructed map of the area between the mountain range that was their home and the forest. Four marked points with the letter P and a number written below them. A dash line ran through all four points.
"These outposts are integral as a supply line into the forests. I promised the men on them a month before we return to help expand their bases infrastructure."
"That's still a long wait," the base defence leader remarked.
"I'm aware, but it's the best I can think up on the spot. I don't believe they'll be in any danger though. Our vanquishing of the Grimm served to clear the area of their kind for a hundred kilometres on all sides. We also took the time to wait for a few days between each point to ensure there wasn't any complications."
"If I may, Master," she interjected this time.
"Yes, Rain?"
"I'd been wondering why we had a resource drain all of a sudden. The modifications you made to your forces, are you planning to introduce them to the rest of our forces? If so, I must warn you that our current resources won't be able to keep up with the expenses. We'll eventually begin to lag, and this may cause delays. The risk of discovery is too high now, making future situations possibly unfavourable."
"….Ah-h-h."
"Master?"
"Did I not mention it?"
Blinking, she parroted back. "Mention what?"
The commander of Nod puckered his lips. His chest visibly expanded and deflated as his nostrils flared.
"We're actually behind time, literaly."
"…."
The room went silent at the statement.
"And that matters because…" the base commander trailed off.
"Because," the commander continued. "It means we're in position to control the flow of history like never before seen. What makes this sweeter, is that any and all actions taken will influence every event of this world's future."
A jolt, the commander perked up suddenly as if having been reminded of something.
"EVA," he called. "Lock down this room. Separate record for everything from this moment onward until I order the lockdown to be lifted."
Wordlessly, the intelligence complied. The blast shield for the forward viewport closed. The door to the elevator emitted a mechanical 'thunk' twice. Those present became immediately alarmed.
"Woah," the base commander gaped.
"Before I continue, know that everyone here is sworn to secrecy."
The tone of their commander dipped once more. The cold tone had returned in full, but there was a certain edge that could not be missed as well. There was no room for argument. Hence, everyone opted to nod slowly in agreement.
Another minute passed. Then two. With another tense inhaled, he spoke in factual tone.
"The world we're in, the story doesn't start for another sixty years. None of the original casts are even born yet with the exception of two. Depending on how first contact goes, we could end up erasing or altering individuals radically."
The room remained quiet. She looked around and saw the looks of the men. Other than White, who sported a glint in his eyes, the rest looked as between sceptical to unsure how to process the information. She didn't blame them. It wasn't their place to know these details. No, what her Master needed wasn't these grunts. He needed someone of higher level. Capable of acting on the information he needs to share and seeing to it things play out the way he needs it to.
In other words, a few extra Hands were in order.
For the time being, it was best to clear things up.
"What I think the commander means," she budded in once more. "Is that we could use information on future events to guide the world in our favour. Being stuck in the past with knowledge of the future can entice nearly anyone who's willing to hear."
"So?"
"So it's like spoiling a book and deliberately changing the details," her aide broke his silence. "Try and be a little smarter, won't you? It's embarrassing having to break it down any further to a person of your level."
"Since when did you have permission to speak, Pullo?" she passed a glance to him.
"My apologies, Mistress," he spoke, tone changing from malice to remorseful. "But this man was choosing to be ignorant when it was unnecessary."
"Noted, but unwarranted still. Do make sure to not make it a habit."
"As you wish."
She heard the base commander saying, 'asslicker.' Wisely, she chose to keep it to herself for now. She can handle the problem later.
A cough broke her to reality. Her Master had one hand covering his mouth. Growling briefly, he then continued.
"So, anyways," he swallowed. "Using the current fact brought up, my plan is to use the clearly undeveloped lands of this continent to our advantage. If I remember right, this world had been through a Great War some two decades back. Articles we collected from Point 4 support this. That's not the interesting part of the writing."
"Then what is?" Sergiu asked.
"Well, for whatever reason, the articles translate that Mistral -the name of the Kingdom- had pulled just about its entire population back within its walls post-war. Now, this is a problem because the journals collected suggests that the city can't support that kind of amassed population. Hence, people looked for ways to escape the order."
"Which was why there were settlements out here to begin with," she inferred.
"Correct," he nodded. "Not just them. According to the lore that I know of, Mistral is bandit country. Modern Mistral that is. Which meant that the desert group we faced wasn't just a one-off deal. There'll be plenty more rogue settlements and deserter camps out in the woods. We'll have to deal with them at some point."
"Hold on, can I speak?" Stana spoke up.
"Yes, go ahead."
"I think I can speak for some of us here," implying the militants and the Head of Departments. "That while all of this is bizarre and all, just what or how exactly does all of this tie in with us? You know, the grunts."
If the leader was offended, he didn't act on it. Rather, he seemed to froze in place as if he were a machine cut off from orders. A brief moment later, he started rubbing his eyes. She heard the blatant self-cursing.
Yet another inhale, then he spoke with a renewed degree of sharpness.
"I'm prepping you lot to be sent into the wild," he said bluntly. "You all will have the job of going around exploring terrain until I tell ya to settle down. Or, until you find a spot that meets the conditions on your own. The second one is more likely, mind you."
Another brief silence ensued. Many too stunned at the command give.
Before anyone else could speak, the leader took initiative.
"I'm aware this seems insane to you all, but this is why I'm adamant on ensuring that logistics line is set up. These militia groups are going to function as expeditionary forces. They won't just be trained to deal with the threat of Grimm and men. No, I'll be sending with them every possible asset we could have ranging from diplomats to materials for prefab buildings."
Two hands touched a panel on the table's flat holoscreen. A larger map soon replaced the previous one. It was far larger and had more irregularity on the borders. Contours and negative spaces appeared, along with a gridline with axis indicators.
"We have sixty years' worth of time," the leader spoke. "That's sixty years to set up infrastructure and bases all across this entire continent. With a majority of the local population being stuffed inside of a strained basket, we have plenty of free land to settle down. I give at least five or less years before the government concedes to allowing people to officially leave the city."
"That's a big assumption, you know?" spoke up the head of Engineering.
"You thinking less?" the leader addressed.
"I'm thinking never," he stated, hands spread and pressed onto the sides of the table. "I'm no people expert, but what you're talking about is a population in the six digits at least. Given everything I've heard and see through the reports thus far, those at the city must be living in cubicles and off of scraps. Furthermore, its impossible to have local resources that could sustain that many people. No, they must've some form of outpost outside. Dozens of them in fact."
"I'll have to take the Chief's side on this one, boss," Sergiu supported. "You're looking at this wrong. Mistral, as you call it, must already have settlements up and running. If not the government, then the upper class or whoever is rich enough to have influence outside. Plus, with the bandits, then it's safe to say that no matter what we do the fact is we can't hide ourselves once we step out of the desert."
A curse was heard. Muffled, but audible. Features crossed, the leader began nibbling on his knuckle.
More silence, more tense atmosphere. Those in the room regarded the map with varying degrees of layered thought.
"If I may speak, sir?" Rain's aide spoke up.
"Yes," came the strained reply.
"If the issue now is in how we get the Brotherhood to infiltrate, wouldn't it be just easier to just let the people assume we're no different than them?"
Looking up from the map, the commander regarded the aide with a spark in his eyes.
"Explain."
"You said this nation is bandit country, yes?" he queried, earning a nod. "Then, considering that there are already rogue elements operating freely without serious intervention, all it takes for us to be welcomed in is by equipping our forces to naturally match these outlaws. From there, we can have our people move about and find places to settle down, as you say. And then…"
The man trailed off not knowing what else to say. Again, the commander -linking the dots- took it as his que.
"We can begin spreading the Word of Nod. People may see us as savages coming to extort them by taking advantage of their suffering, but we can bely that with the gift of resources and actual security, especially for places that can't afford Huntsmen."
"Huntsmen?" Sergiu parroted.
"Elite warriors. Think of Commandos, but more randomised. If you thought those Aura warriors you've faced are bad, then Huntsmen are a different level. Each is unique and wields a different weapon based on individual preferences. The ones I'm familiar with work in teams of four that essentially train, sleep and eat together for years at a time. That's not going into Semblances that can range from downright useless to stupidly powerful."
A series of curses spread among the militia.
"But they can be beaten, right sir?"
All eyes turned to Dr. White.
"These Huntsmen," he began. "Whatever you say makes them powerful can be overcome. Nothing is completely impossible, especially given that you've already faced lesser versions of them whilst out in the field."
"That would be correct," the commander nodded. "Which reminds me. Have you done any research on the mineral samples I sent back?"
As if the ground had sunk, there was an emptying sensation filling the room.
"I should've figured you'd ask that," spoke the scientist with a snort. Pulling out a USB drive from his coat pocket, he plugged it into the table.
The map disappeared, replaced with a straightforward loading screen. Upon hitting a hundred percent, the screen transitioned to show analysis readouts and, more importantly, two crystals of different composition. One was obviously Tiberium.
"These… Dust crystals," he waved a hand towards the other image. "Are about as bizarre as Tiberium. No, it's more apt to compare them to be polar opposites."
"Care to explain?"
"Tiberium, exists to absorb and convert. It takes as much as it gives, and then some. Despite its apocalyptic providence, what can't be denied is that once refined the possibilities of Tiberium are endless. Anything, from advanced fabrication to new forms of medical care and improved human health are made possible only through Tiberium-based research and development.
However, the same can't be said for Dust. Each mineral is defined by a different reaction and, I can't believe I'm saying this, element of nature. We've divided them accordingly and found that they essentially operate the same as minerals from our world would. Example, red crystals are highly explosive and generate intense heat whilst blue may create either lightning or water."
He then pressed a second panel on his end of the table. A video recording appeared.
"Obviously, we tried combining the two in what had hoped to be a contained experiment. But the result wasn't something we'd imagined."
The video in question played. First it showed a petri dish filled with liquid T. A pincer then appeared, holding a small, red crystal shard. The shard was dropped into the dish, eliciting a violent response. The crystal sizzled before exploding, spreading the green liquid everywhere. The video feed itself was cutoff, only to be replaced by another showing the entire room covered in crystals.
Raw, healthy Tiberium crystals.
"God in Heaven," someone muttered.
Rain glared at the scientist. "This wasn't in the morning report."
"My apologies," said the scientist. "This test was conducted on a whim. My colleagues and I were getting infuriated with the lack of progress in trying to restore the banal state of the crystal. The situation is contained, I assure you."
"Is this effect specific for refined Tiberium, doctor?" asked the commander.
"For now, yes," replied White. "We don't have any real access to the real Tiberium crystal, you see. What we get is what the Spike produces, and that's the extraction from some fifty kilometres below the surface. The tower uses advance methods of extraction and refining that guarantees the usual dangerous properties of Tiberium are neutralised and easily converted for industrial use. It's also why research is slow. We have to wait until logistics sends a new shipment each time."
"…How long ago was this incident in actuality, doctor?"
The scientist's face went stoic. "Pardon?"
"I was out for more than three months. That's three months of which you had to experiment with this reaction," came the strained hypothesis of the leader.
"…. We tried every method possible before deciding on trying out the native fuels, sir."
By now, the leader was eyeing the scientist with a less-than-civil stare. A hidden exchange took place, before the two broke eye contact.
"See to it that you send every detail of this research straight to my desk. I want a personal report on every major breakthrough. Deadline is this week. No excuse."
"As you wish."
Tensions within the room swirled like a vortex, and all present continued to ride the currents and spirals that went from one spin to another at random.
"Sergiu," the commander called.
"Yeah?"
"Assemble a dispatch group. I want them to secure the mines at P1. I'll have men created to help in reopening them."
"Will do, commander."
Dark eyes turned her way. "….Rain?"
"Yes, Master?"
"How are the refugees faring?"
"Many have recovered to their fullest. Though, they are mostly idle these days."
"That won't do," he shook his head. "Gather some of the ones who'd work within the mines. They'll be of aid in mapping the tunnel networks."
"As you wish," she nodded.
"Alright then," said the commander, addressing the room. "I suppose that covers today's meeting for now. Before I end this, I request Engineering to send me a list of all available assets in our inventory. Also, get me a report on the Spike, and Tiberium economy for reviewing."
"Sir," responded the chief.
"Everyone, dismiss."
The door behind me closed with a click.
Illumination within the room came from lamps neatly hidden within small lines between the edges of the wall and the ceiling. There was also the light from a larger source above, but it was dim at this time. There were two bed lamps, but one had been moved from its place on a side drawer next to the bed and now stood on the coffee table at the centre of the room.
She was there two. Seated on one of the two long couches. Her hair was shorter now, I noticed. At my angle, I could see in her hands was a digital tablet and in front of her were papers and documents neatly arranged for reviewing.
I'd be lying if I said her more 'casual' attire wasn't more alluring. A simple sports singlet and the usual black pants with matching socks. No, what attracted me was the glow from her skin.
… What was I doing here?
"Are you planning to just stand there all evening or will come and take a seat?"
Firm and fair. The voice compelled me forward. I moved, compelled to heed the 'command'.
I sat across her on a single seater. Hands on my knees and my back straight. On the other hand, she continued her reading as if I wasn't here because of my misdoing.
"So-"
"I screwed. Damn it. Damn it. I really screwed up earlier just now, didn't I? Should've waited and asked for the sitrep first, then make my move. Now, everyone thinks I'm a looney on top of being a whimp, which is great considering I'm at the head of-"
AH!
Pain pierced my temple. The vision in my right eye blurred and I could just barely here the sound of something falling to the carpet below me. I turned to glare with my one good eye just to see the less then amused look of my aide.
I blinked. My mind still reeling from the blow. At the same time, a certain clarity washed over my recent action which make me groan.
A deep, long groan. Accentuated by me pressing my face into my palms.
"Feel better now?" she asked.
"No."
"Good, I'd worry that I was dealing with an imposter if that were the case."
I breathed. Deep, then out.
Press to the main topic and the real reason you're here.
"Was the meeting that bad on my part?"
"Honestly, there was definitely a way of better conveying your intent, but I say you're commendable for getting your basic point across."
"Still doesn't mean it was great, wasn't it?"
"That doesn't mean you've utterly failed, Jared," she soothed. Her postured straightened and the tablet was set on the table with the documents. "You've much to learn of the reality of administration, but again, I applaud you for making it back to begin with. Your men also found some begrudging respect as well."
"Not again with pity, lady," I frowned at her. "Beating a man by a fluke doesn't add up to much. Fear never lasts."
"And if so, then explain why that man, Stana, became quick to rise your defence?"
That got me to scoff. "I don't see your point. He was just upset that somebody took a threat he'd faced as a joke."
"True, but wasn't that also the same threat that you, personally, led against on at least two different occasions?"
I wanted to respond back. I really wanted, but it occurred to me that the conversation was starting to drag.
Drag. The mere word sounded very apt to what I felt now.
The brief feeling of freshness after the shower earlier today had long since worn off. My mouth went wide of its own accord to allow a yawn to escape.
"Don't you dare sleep on that couch, Jared."
"But… so tired."
"My point still stands.
"….Fine then."
Sliding off the couch, I got down and laid with my back to the side of the seat.
"…. What are you doing?"
"Sleeping, what else?"
My eyes were closed, but I could still feel the judgemental look on me. I heard a sigh. Nothing happened at first and for a while after.
Then the feeling of fabric on me made me open my eyes just a little. Through the slits, I could see the blanket now lain over my body. It was a rugged thing, but not uncomfortable. I also barely sensed a presence close by.
"For a man who hates being pathetic, you sure act immature when you want to," I heard the snidely remark, coupled with the rustling of papers.
"Only behind closed doors and with trusted company."
We embraced the silence. Tired as I was, sleep won't be coming easy, I knew.
"Rain," I called out.
"Yes?"
"What do you think we'll end up accomplishing in this world?"
"Isn't that what you're supposed to find out?"
"…. Humour me."
"There's nothing to be said that you'll find wanting. I'd perhaps ask someone else just as desultory as you, but that would be hoping too much."
"I hate you, Rain."
A/N: Desultory just about sums up this chapter for some reason.
Man, talk about a real mental challenge. We'll be looking at the bigger stage after this. It's slow, but damn if I don't take my time. Anyhow, I hope to see you all when we reach the end at some point, Lord Willing.
Stay safe, peace!