Figueroa watched the redhead leave. The young woman was on the guest list so had been allowed to meet the First Minister. But her profile listed combat skills, which was why Figueroa was watching her closely.
The so-called "Pride of Mistral" met up with her mother and the two people listed as her agent and coach. Mum was chewing out the other two, it seemed not everyone had agreed to this little meeting. That was comforting, that something stayed the same even in this crazy world.
For the most part this was a total milk run. Close security for the First Minister, but still. A milk run.
They had numbers, equipment and despite Durham's worrying, the new Onyx were not tripping over their own boots. Constant vigilance meant no repeats of the incident at Atlas. They were tracking anyone that even entered the area let alone approached Emmerich.
Things stayed to schedule. First day was just a viewing of the teams matches. After a few hours they left for the city where accommodation had been offered. They descended once more via the lifts and passed another police cordon to the landing area.
A small group of shapes were flying towards them from Emissary. This leg of their trip would be by the new Nymphs. Ravens would take up too much room on the Emissary. And the ship itself would have to park away from their destination due to its size.
Despite Khan's title as the "Ballistic pilot" Figueroa would have preferred to have her at the controls. Instead they were going to have some new branch air puke who's voice had cracked when he'd reported his approach.
'Sergeant Figueroa. Nymph 09. We're inbound and have visual,' The pilot's squeaky voice called in her ear.
'Copy that. I'll signal once we're aboard,' Figueroa replied as they reached the pads.
Despite their limited training the new pilots managed a damned good approach. They came in fast, popping up and flaring to land at the last moment. The down wash from their engines seemed miniscule compared to a Raven. Quickly they hustled aboard.
The benches would just about squeeze a squad in, Emmerich was stuck with a jump-seat intended for a crew chief. They dropped into their places and pulled on the straps that would stop them from getting shaken around.
Once they were all locked in, Figueroa ordered the unit to sound off.
'Black-3 to all points. Confirm you're locked in. I do not want anyone rolling out the back,' she called into the radio.
A wave of affirmation came back. She changed to the joint ops channel.
'Nymph 09. Sergeant Figueroa. We're ready, take off,' Figueroa ordered.
'Yes, Ma'am'.
They lifted and came about so quick the troops all heard the straps creak slightly. Then they had the feeling of being rear ended by a truck. The Nymph's tore forward with such blistering speed. The spectators that had crowded the platform were probably seeing after-images.
As they left the airspace around the Coliseum there was a shake of turbulence. Emmerich glanced over with a faint look of concern.
'Just passing the environmental control area. It keeps the wind down and the temperature liveable. But there is some resistance when passing the threshold,' Figueroa reported.
Emmerich returned a curt nod and seemed more at ease. Score one for her research of this assignment.
Despite the brutal start the craft flew quite steady. Within a few minutes they were closing on the hotel that had been reserved for the trip. Thankfully the Mistral Council had splashed out so the Onyx were also billeted here.
That would save her worrying about keeping the First Minister under constant protection. And had the added benefit they were not jammed into Emissary's troop compartment. Say what you would about that design it did not grant much comfort to embarked personnel.
Bunks stacked three high, not enough room to move around freely and the only upside being the place still had a newish smell. The place had not been set up to have troops with a full combat kit. The Air Troopers Were all lightly armed and armored. Enforcers and Gnashers were the largest small arms they had. Much to Figueroa's pride they had managed to stow their Lancers, but Hickman and the other marksmen had to share their bunks with their Longshots.
Reaching the roof landing pad at the Eastern Peak Resort & Spa they stepped off to find a waiting bellhop, or whatever they called them, waiting. The man was trying to size them up, but gave a graceful bow as he spoke.
'Welcome to the 'Eastern Peak Resort & Spa. We are honored to host your party. Should you need anything please ask.'
'Thank you. I think it would be best if we retired for now. If it's not impolite, would you be able to show us to our rooms,' Emmerich said.
'Of course. Please follow me,' The bellhop said with a nod. Gesturing for them to follow.
They were led into the lift and descended to the penthouse floor. Emmerich was of course in the main suite. With a quick hand signal Figueroa had the place swept for anything. She doubted they were likely to find anything. But even a hint of doubt needed to be quashed.
With Emmerich settling in as the place was cleared the Onyx took up the rooms along the corridor. Each was quite high-class and rich with decorations. Figueroa's eyes ran about the room, seeing artwork and sculptures placed on walls or into alcoves. The place was a mix of wood inlaid with what she hoped was gold paint. It was bordering on excessive.
Then her gaze landed on an open cupboard door, which unlike the rest of the room was matte gray metal inside. She walked over seeing the interior was clearly an arms locker. An adjustable armor stand and weapon rack within. Printed instructions on the inside of the door showed how to work them.
Part of her still felt surprised at the fact a place like this was ready to accommodate guests who walked in with an arsenal. But per the brochure they had sent the place catered to normal people and Huntsmen. The latter of whom would need some place to stow their kit.
'Black-3-4 lead, Black-3 actual. You still fine to take first watch?' Figueroa asked into her radio.
'Sure thing boss. Get some shut eye I'll wake you when it's time to swap,' Hickman's voice called back.
'Can you at least try to maintain radio discipline?'
'What's the matter? Worried the Capitan will chew you out because of a little informal speech?
'Hickman,' Figueroa said, stopping her teeth from grinding together.
It's your first command Frankie.', Hickman said casualy, 'Relax. Provided we don't let Emmerich get injured or killed we'll be fine.'
'Don't use my first name over the net. And don't tempt fate like that,' Figueroa said before sighing, 'I'm turning in, call if anything happens.'
'Will do, boss lady. Now go get some beauty sleep you need it.'
Figueroa resisted the urge to punch the wall then rubbed her eyes. Hickman had always been free spirited when not on mission. Provided he kept running his mouth he wasn't worried and she would need to trust him at some point.
She pulled her rifle from its holster then locked it into the rack. Her Gnasher followed but she kept her Snub handy. Then pulled off her plates and stuck them into the stand. Walking around the unfamiliar room without her armor felt uneasy.
Walking over to where her kitbag had been placed by the staff she unzipped it and changed from her combat uniform into a set of pajamas. Dressed for bed she walked over and lifted the blanket on top. It was like trying to lift a cloud, what the hell grade of silk was this? Pushing her hand onto the mattress it sank into it so fast she jumped back worried it was pulling her in.
Grumbling, she tried to relax and get a good night's sleep only to find the bed was far too soft for her. A few years of military bunks had spoiled her sense of comfort. After a few minutes of turning, shifting and still feeling off she snarled and got out of the bed.
The corner next to the dresser would be good cover if she got attacked in the night. She threw a pillow and blanket into it and lay down. Even the wood floor seemed soft to some degree but after a few minutes she managed to fall asleep.
She woke to knocking at the door. What dreams she'd had gone as she snapped to awareness.
'Its me. Time to take your turn,' Hickman's voice called from the other side.
'Sure. Sure. Give me a minute,' Figueroa called back, rising from her "bed".
Figueroa walked into the bathroom and got cleaned up. Refreshed, she pulled on a new uniform and donned her armor. Giving her weapons a check as she retrieved them she closed the locker and left the room.
Hickman was leaning against the wall outside but thankfully came to attention as she exited her room.
'Sitrep?' Figueroa asked.
'Nothing much. All quiet on the front. Unless you count the occasional staff member coming up,' Hickman said with a shrug.
'Please try to take this seriously,' Figueroa said exasperated.
'Oh please. We have a full platoon. Guards on all the doors. The windows are 5 inches thick. If someone wants to try this they won't make it two steps towards him.'
'Look we can't afford to let our guard down,' Figueroa said with an edge to her voice.
'We can't afford to spend every second expecting another attack. He's under constant guard and last time was a fluke. We are checking the staff, the food. Hell I even had them put some sensors on the vents in case of gas. But we're secure. It's been five hours and not a peep,' Hickman said, spreading his arms wide.
Figueroa sighed, 'Okay. Sorry if I'm high strung. This is my-'
'First command I know. I was the same when I did my first turn as leader.'
'I don't recall you ever being in command since you were in the unit.'
Hickman went quiet for a moment.
'You meant when you were in the army right?' Figueroa asked, tilting her head.
'I… Might have…' Hickman replied, drawing out the response.
'Gabe!'
'I thought you said no first names!'
Figueroa glared in silence for a few moments before he cracked.
'Alright. Stop the stoic BS. I ran raids okay,' Hickman admitted.
'Raids? Against the COG?' Figueroa snapped.
'No against the moon men. Of course against the COG.'
'Why?'
'Why? Because we needed parts, tech and medicine. Things we might not be able to make ourselves.'
Figueroa snorted, 'So much for independence and living with nature.'
'Hey! Hammering out a knife is one thing. But you want to operate on someone with a hand crafted blade or one that's laser measured?' Hickman said angrily, 'Not like the COG lacked resources. Nobody cared what we took provided it was a little at a time.'
'So why not just come back before the war? Why live out in the middle of nowhere?'
'Because we learned not to trust our future to people who saw us as numbers in a ledger.'
'What changed then? You could have resigned and left with the other Outsiders at any time.'
Hickman paused looking over at the doors to Emmerich's suite.
'I got this crazy idea that some people in the COG might not see me as a number. That they might be willing to let people live their lives.' Hickman said quietly.
'Hickman…' Figueroa said sadly.
'Forget about it. Just keep an eye out and I'll see you in a few hours,' Hickman responded, turning and walking to his own room.
The morning couldn't come fast enough. Their day was packed out with appointments, meetings and visits. Most of it was a blur of handshakes and speeches. Towards the end of the day they had their last stop. Haven Academy.
The place was a weird mix. Part school, training camp and fort. Its position on top of the highest peak gave it a commanding view of the surroundings. Figueroa was willing to bet this place had been some old castle or palace before it was turned into a place of learning.
A few students watched the Nymphs come in and drop off the delegation. A teacher shouted and sent them scurrying to wherever they were meant to be. As they stepped out and onto the landing pad the Headmaster came out to greet them.
'Hello. I'm um. Honored to welcome you to Haven Academy,' Professor Lionheart said.
'Thank you for allowing the visit. I'm rather interested in how your institution works,' Emmerich replied.
'If you'll follow me. We can watch some classes and I can show you our hall of awards. If you have any questions please do ask,' Lionheart said, turning and leading them into the school.
Back in Phoenix Bay at that very moment an AI agent was scanning a camera feed. The agent was designated Watchdog. It was tasked with observing the office at the bottom of the building that the camera view showed. An organization calling itself the Human Alliance for Tantamount Rights.
The group had been flagged the moment they had been noticed. A manifesto published on their net page said they wanted to ensure equal rights for Humans and Faunus.
Their actions and words however said they were more interested in one being more equal then the other. The last 30 events they had involvement in had been dispersed by Peacekeepers and Shock Trackers.
None of this mattered to the agent. Emotional response was not a part of its process. Its task was to observe and report if needed. It had been watching for weeks. Noting people who attended the office, tracking any signs of illegal activity and logging it all for further analysis.
It had the odd feeling of another program connecting to its observation point. Whilst neither had a physical body the closest description would be the two programs bumped into each other. There was a moment as they scanned the other, checked their identifiers and then performed a sync.
The new program was a crime monitoring agent designation, Street Hound. Two suspicious persons were approaching this location. Their movements and actions had woken the second agent.
In the view a pair of figures walked around the corner. One male and one female by their builds, though that was just high probability. The female" was carrying a box with both hands. They weaved through the crowds on the street heading towards the alley behind the office.
Unaware they were being watched, the two walked around the back of the office. The male stood in the alleyway checking each direction. As he did the female crouched down behind the back door to the office and placed the box down.
The two figures turned to leave. As they did so a third program awoke, triggered by their actions. This one was from the city management network. It tried to raise a Peacekeeper to issue the two suspects with a citation for littering.
Both Watchdog and Street Hound blocked those commands. This situation was causing alarms to play out in their digital minds. Both sent off an alert.
Inside the police headquarters a technician sipped a Saltberry Slush. It had been a quiet night. Only the occasional drunken citizen being escorted home by a DeeBee and the like. All priority four stuff.
Then a pair priority three flags dropped onto the screen in sector 5. That was weird. Why two pins and why P3's?
Putting down the drink and opening up the markers she found there were two agents watching the location. A Watchdog assigned there for long term surveillance. And a Street Hound that had been triggered.
'Hey boss,' She called over her shoulder, 'You might want to have a look at this.'
The shift supervisor walked over and leaned in to look at the screen.
'What the hell? Two agents on one feed? What's got them riled up?'
'Here,' The technician said. As she pulled up the footage of the box being placed.
'What is that? Any ID on those two?' The supervisor asked
' No idea and nope. I'll flag them for a face track.' The technician replied.
'I don't like this. That's either contraband or something worse. Call it in as a 10-85. If its a drop we don't want to spook anyone. If it's something worse we need to contain it.'
'Got it, ' The technician said, hands flying over the keyboard, 'Got a unit nearby with a chemical suite. Commandeering now.'
PB-MS-GU-43 was part way through trimming a planter when it received a new set of instructions. It put its clippers down and turned about face before walking across the street. Had it been self-aware it would have likely protested being interrupted. But all it knew was that new orders had come down and its prior task had been overridden.
It crossed two more streets and passed a pair of Peacekeeper's standing watch over the road. None of the machines spoke, each was performing its task and no words were needed. More Peacekeepers were leading people out of the buildings nearby. Some raised voices were heard but GU-43 didn't react.
GU-43 turned and walked up an alleyway stopping at a doorway. Crouching down it found the box it had been tasked to check. It moved its head around methodically checking the exterior of the package.
It was brown cardboard with packing tape sealing it. No sign of a label for its point of origin or destination. As it moved its head it noted there was something else stuck to the outside of the container's edges. It was a dried material of some kind.
There was a pause as GU-43 waited for further instructions. Its audio inputs indicated the crowd had moved away from the area. Then it was instructed to check the package directly.
Extending a finger GU-43 ran the tip of its artificial digit along the edge of the box. Inside was a chemical analysis sensor. Its regular function was to check soil health. The sensor took in a trace amount of the material and examined it. Then reported the results as it matched the different substances to ones on record.
90% standard adhesive, 8% unknown binding agent, 1% fire dus-
At that moment the box detonated, destroying GU-43. Several things happened in rapid succession.
The blast was caught by microphones on all the DeeBees and cameras in the area. It was analyzed and calculated to have been approximately the same as 2 kilograms of commercial grade explosive.
Street Hound and Watchdog were "grabbed" by a larger Crisis Response program. After digitally shaking them down for data. Scanning the information available it sent its own alert. Sirens started across the city seconds after the sound of the explosion. The general emergency plan had been activated.
Zane froze as he heard the blast in the distance. It was some kind of accident right? Something had caught fire or got overloaded. Then the sirens started up and he knew something was very, very wrong.
'Dad. What's going on?' Erwin asked running over to his father. Fear in his voice.
'I don-' Zane started.
He was cut off by every PDA and scroll linked to the COG letting out a loud tone. The screens changed to read: COG Emergency Messaging System. A voice started to play from them all.
'This is the Coalition of Ordered Governance emergency messaging system. An emergency has been declared. Please calmly proceed to the nearest shelter and await further instructions. Your nearest shelter is. Market Street Public shelter.'
The voice started to repeat itself. Zane looked around confused and scared for a moment. Before he could lock up completely a hand landed on his shoulder.
'Hey buddy. Come on you heard the order,' A woman said from behind him.
Zane turned to see a Seran woman in a COG suit pointing him up the street.
'I. Um. Sorry. Thank you,' Zane replied.
He took Erwin's hand and moved up the street. The whole crowd was moving now. Within moments they were on Market Street. Zane could see people walking into a large set of doors. He'd seen them all over the place and assumed they were a utility entrance of some kind.
A squad of DeeBees were standing guard around the shelter. Not the bright white of Peacekeepers these were matte blue Peacemakers. Their heads were scanning constantly from side to side as the crowd flowed past them. But for a second Zane could have sworn one looked at him and paused before resuming its sweep.
In another part of the city Ren and Nora were following their own instructions. They were not heading for a shelter. Their destination was the sector 3 police building. Neither needed to ask why they were being sent there.
Reaching the building they saw cartloads of DeeBees tearing out of the garage. Heading off into the rest of the sector. A ring of the machines had already been formed around the place itself. As they ran over the machines stepped aside before reforming behind them.
Inside they saw more police officers than they'd ever seen in one place since their arrival. But they were not in their crisp patrol uniforms. Now they were strapping on body armor and passing out weapons from the station armory.
'Hey. Who are you?' One called out.
'Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie. We got orders to report here,' Ren replied quickly.
'Right. Control said you'd be coming. Fab your gear and report once you're done,' The officer said, grabbing a Gnasher and leaving.
The two shrugged and walked up to armory windows. Inside were a few racks of equipment, a quartermaster DeeBee and several Fabricators.
'Please present your PDA for authentication and pattern submission,' The DeeBee instructed.
They pulled out their PDAs and touched them to the readers. There was a chime and a set of Fabricators burst to life. A pair of Talon auto pistols, Lancer and armor in green appeared in one. A Lancer GL, Snub and armor coloured pink materialized in the second.
Their equipment was carried over by a DeeBee and passed through the slots. Both suited up and took the ammo that had been printed whilst they adjusted their plates.
'I thought this stuff was molecularly perfect. So why do we have to adjust them each time they make us a new one,' Nora said, jamming a magazine into her webbing.
'It is perfect. But we just had lunch. We're not molecularly perfect right now,' Ren replied. Checking his Lancer before holstering it.
'You better not be calling me fat mister.'
'No I'm not. Are you okay?' Ren asked, turning to face her.
'Yeah sure. Just. Not really ready for this,' Nora replied looking worried.
'Don't worry. We have each other. We'll get through this,' Ren replied, nodding to her.
Nora took a breath to steady her nerves and nodded back.
'Okay. Lets go kick the butt of whoever just interrupted my pancake lunch,' She declared marching out.
Evangelina marched into the operations room and looked up at the main display. On it each sector of the city was reporting its status. 95% of the citizens were already in shelter; the number ticked up one more as she watched.
'Situation?' She called out.
'Ma'am. An explosive device was set off in sector 5,' A technician called out.
'Casualties?'
'None so far. The area was evacuated as a precaution when a suspect package was left.'
'Any issues with getting everyone into the shelters?'
'None so far. Minor cases of shock that other citizens urged into the shelters already.'
'Good. If anything changes le-'
'Ma'am, we have a pirate broadcast. Source unknown. It's on the CCT systems,' Another technician called out.
'Show me.'
Across the city scrolls that had stopped showing the evacuation orders now reported a live feed was being shared. Not everyone opened the feed, but some did. Out of fear, confusion or curiosity.
A Faunus man stood in the center of the frame. He had a pair of striped canine ears. His clothes were white sleeveless jacket over a black sleeveless hoodie with red inner lining and a bone white mask. A white flag with a red wolf struck through three times hung behind him.
'Greetings citizens of the COG. We are the White Fang. For too long our people have been trodden on, cast aside and scorned for who we are. The Kingdoms condone our suffering with their silence. They turn away as we're working like the animals they see us as. Now it will change. If our demands are not met we will carry out further acts of resistance. First COG will ensure our brothers and sisters, illegally detained by the Kingdoms, are released. Once we have confirmed this has been done we will be in contact. Today you've seen our commitment. Do not doubt our will. You have twenty four hours to convince your government. After that we will take what actions we must. For the Faunus.'