With only the help of a little desk lamp, he is reading through the latest report. There is a light attached to the ceiling but he chose to leave it turned off. With pencil in hand and marker nearby in case it is necessary. Sitting on a wooden chair that he found on the street while passing through. With his old one well and truly ruined thanks to an unfortunate Aparoid explosive projectile, he needed a replacement. And although it is held together with tape and prayers, it has not collapsed yet. Maybe a metaphor for his army?
He is inside of a big tent, at least three times bigger than it needs to be. But beggars cannot be choosers and they only had the colossal size in stock. Gives him lots of legs room at least. And room for various things. Like a coffee machine, some ancient printer/fax/copier combo machine and plenty of filing cabinets. His computer is broken, courtesy of a nice big hole through the screen so his phone will have to do, when it comes to digital work.
Above him, a projector aimed right down at him. In case he needs to display something on the big ping-pong table that has been repurposed as his desk. A white, slim tarp is covering it and looks like something one's grandma has in her house. Ever tried to display something on green? He would have obviously preferred the digital Multi-TableTM but just like with the tent, he has no other choice. And all things considered, it could all be worse.
He cannot focus anymore however and annoyed, he drops the file back on the table. Already had himself get chewed out by Trevor's first Militia pick. How she heard about it, he does not know. But it has given him such a headache. That and the behavior of a certain other person. So he presses a button next to him on the table and starts talking into the mic attached to the device with said button.
"I called for him about twenty minutes ago. Where is he?" he asks without much emotion to his voice, even if a small undertone of that annoyance can be detected.
"I do not know, Sir! I sent him to you about fifteen minutes ago. He should be there by now." is the reply he gets.
He lets go of the button and instead looks at the entrance to his tent. The thick, sun blinding flaps are letting very little light through, except through the small opening leading to the outside. But he does notice a shadow walk by and then disappear. Only to appear from the side it disappeared from before and then disappear again on the other side. Someone is pacing outside and he knows who it is.
"Damian, please stop pacing and come in."
The shadow stops and instead the person casting it steps in. His large stature forces him to enter head first so he does not bump it against the iron support bar. Once in, the tent proves large enough for him to stand tall without compensating. The flaps fall back in place and the brightness inside is once more kept to a minimum.
"Sorry, I did not have permission to enter." the Sergeant-Major says in his defense as he takes off his hat and holds it underneath his left arm.
"You always have permission to enter." the Captain then counters, slightly exasperated with his coy behavior.
"But I suppose on this occasion it might be fitting."
The Captain then puts his pen away and sighs deep. Before wiping his face with his hands and then staring right at the avian. There is no expression visible on his face but there is a mixture of anger, disappointment, tiredness and numbness radiating from them. And Herg would be lying if he would claim that this was not affecting him. After all, he knows why he is getting this vibe.
"When did you figure out I knew where you were hiding?" he then asks, his monotonous tone remaining unchanged.
"I suppose when the escort came knocking." the Sergeant-Major responds.
A silence follows as the staring continues. Only interrupted when the Captain drums his fingers on the desk. Not out of nervousness or boredom, but because it irks the feathered behemoth standing in front of him at attention. Then he stops, leans forward and then slams his fist on the table.
"And when did you decide to stab me in the back?"
His tone remains remarkably calm for the accusation thrown at his subordinate. Meanwhile, the pen he put down has rolled off the table from the slam. And he can feel a vein in his forehead start to throb.
"Respectfully Sir, I see it more as a poke with a butter knife wrapped in velvet." Herg explains while keeping composure, doing his best to ignore the cold sweat forming and running down the back of his neck.
But the Captain is not interested in his Victorian mitigations. Not when they are used against him.
"You went against my orders, Damian. I want to know why. And no simple answer please, not in the mood to tear it out of your vocal chords." the Captain orders as he gives himself a cramp in hand because he clenches his fist that tight.
Keen on keeping his chords where they belong, the Sergeant-Major makes his case. While he is not against sending out Nova 7 into a dangerous area, he is against the way it has been done. He made his displeasure known to the Captain during the inception of the plan but was then expelled from that meeting. Then, he found out that the plan went ahead without any changes. He had to stop it and give the now vaporized Nova 7 a fighting chance. He caught Nelson red-handed while he was reluctantly shredding the team's existence. On the Captain's orders. And how he reconstructed or otherwise saved all of it. Just in case.
"I know you wanted to test them. To see if they could pull through against impossible odds. But have they not proven this already with their plight in that subway?"
"We all have our plights. Just because some prop-boys made them some kind of legend to keep the morale up, doesn't mean they are entitled to special treatment." the Captain reasons.
"Nor should they be punished for it either! Your order took away their identities. On top of giving them an excruciating time limit to content with."
The Captain sighs and stands up from the chair.
"It seems I need to show it to you again." he laments as he turns on the projector, regardless of the Sergeant-Major's distaste of what he is about to do.
The projector turns on and a chess board is projected on the table. Set-up exactly the way the Captain left it last time. Most of the pawns are intact, a standing king, a fallen queen that was not down in the previous iteration, three bishops, no knights and only one rook. Not exactly how you play chess but then again, it is the metaphor more than anything else. From left to right, he calls out the teams he has turned to vapor.
The rook on the left is Nova 7. The first bishop is Alpha 3, the second is Epsilon 2 and the third being Husky 9. The bishops are all to be directed to the east, whereas the rook is meant to go north. Which the Captain also simulates, using his phone to control the projected field. As the rook can go forth, collect what it needs in the middle of enemy territory and come back. And while the rook is an important piece, its demise should it fall or not be able to return can be mitigated.
"I understand, Sir. I really do. But this is not chess. This is an actual battle. If we lose your rook, we do not get them back at the end of the match in case we want to try again. If I had let your rook go in the way you wanted it to go… they would be unmotivated, demoralized and more likely to bolt at the first opportunity. Armed nobodies, disenfranchised by the army they loved or just came into."
"And you believe that your token gifts will turn that around?" the Captain asks skeptically, failing to see how, for example, just one picture could prevent that doom scenario.
"You have not been a Captain your whole life. You have been where they are now. Remember Andross? Those trenches we were in at Katina?"
"Of course I do. It's when I met you. You said you couldn't fly but that explosion made you regardless." he snickers a little.
"A beakful of mud and wood splinters as a consequence." the Sergeant-Major remembers.
"With the most undignified landing I had ever seen. How could I forget?"
"Aside from gaining a friend that day, what was with you longer than me? What was the one thing you held on to for hope? That something you could never go without. Maybe not always directly on your mind but always there when you would need it?" the avian tries to emphasize and make the Captain dig through his memories.
But he does not have to dig far. For almost instantaneously, he reaches for his trouser pocket and pulls out a silver ring. Sterling silver, 915. It has become matted, with small scratches all around its surface. The engagement ring he gave to his beloved. Money was tight on both sides and this was the only thing he could afford, so he gave her this.
When the war started, they did not separate, instead she gave the ring to him. As a token. As a guardian angel. That was then and when he returned from defeating Andross, their financial situation became better. An actual pair of wedding rings were bought, but this ring always stayed with him. Even now.
It slowly starts to connect within his gray matter. What his Sergeant-Major actually means with his reasoning. But it does not excuse him going against his orders, behind his back and keeping that to himself. Even with the best intentions, no matter what it is wrapped in or how blunt the instrument might be, a backstab hurts. With breath driven out of his body.
The Captain puts the ring back in his pocket, turns the projector off and returns to his seat in silence, pondering what to do next. Then a red light starts blinking from the device connected to his table. Someone wants to report something important it seems. He presses the button and gives the go ahead for whoever it might be.
"Captain, the drop off has been successful. The two infected are in the Infection Zone right now. The driver has been very spooked however, claiming that the two were turning into monsters right there and then." reports the unknown voice.
"Hm. Has the car been disinfected?"
"Completely. But we found no traces of Aparoid infection anywhere. Even in the traces of saliva there were… more prevalent then we had expected."
"Interesting. What's done is done. De-quarantine the car for military use again and put it back with Motorpool."
"Understood, Sir."
The Captain lets go of the button and turns his attention back to the Sergeant-Major, standing at the attention still. Something he is really good at doing. Not necessarily standing at attention, but not breaking orders. So why was this order that he gave so personally offensive to him that he would break that? Is it that he cares about Nova 7 that much already? Or is it the turning of them into a vapor unit? The disbelief that he as Captain could make such dehumanizing decisions? A combination of all of those?
He does not know. Therefore, he sighs and calls the two out of the three guards outside of his tent in. They enter and stand on either side of the Sergeant-Major, dwarfed by his giant stature.
"It seems our northern unit has arrived at their destination. Now it is a matter of waiting, whether or not your actions paid them themselves out, or leave you with another beakful of mud and splinters. I hope for our sake, it is not the latter." he wishes genuinely, but still restrained by the metaphorical mark of the blade in his back.
The Sergeant-Major nods respectfully and hopes the same.
"Guards. You are to escort the Sergeant-Major back to his lair. Where he will remain confined until my say-so. Before I let him go however, I do want to give him one last word. If he feels it is necessary."
The Sergeant-Major does find it necessary and takes one step forward.
"I do, Sir. I apologize for my actions towards you. My intentions were just in my eyes, but the execution could have been avoided. I overstepped my honor and hurt yours. I am sorry Sir."
Having said that, the Sergeant-Major takes his step back and awaits further orders. Internally, he is somewhat relieved he could get that off his chest. The Captain looks as stone-faced as ever, before he stands up and gives a salute to him. Which is returned in kind. Then the Captain sits back down and gestures to them to leave. The Sergeant-Major turns on his heel, puts his hat back on and walks out with the guards.
Once they are out of sight and out of earshot, does he call in the third guard. His reserve in case it was ever necessary. But more so as a receptionist in case someone requires to speak to him. Or runner for documents or to transmit information quickly between parts of the base. And for that last task, he calls him in.
"You called, Sir?"
"Yes, what is the status of the Sergeant-Major's associate? Still in play?" the Captain inquires.
"Still in play indeed, Sir. Would you like to remove him?"
"No. Leave him be. In fact, forget all about him. He doesn't exist and what he does is not noteworthy. Anyone who brings him up, is to be told to drop it. Understood?"
"Yes Sir!" the guard reports.
"Good. Dismissed. And let no one else in for now."
The guard salutes and leaves the tent as quickly as he came in. Now he is alone again. He falls back into this chair, slumping down into it. That interaction has drained him. He could really use a drink but alcohol would not help with the decision making very well. So instead he leaves himself a moment with his thoughts.
And after a few minutes, he feels like he has his mind in order. He stands up from his chair and goes to the filing cabinet. He opens the third drawer from the top and picks out an actual chess piece from it. A rook. He takes it back to his desk and turns the projector back on. He then places the rook in the position where it is projected. Then runs the simulation again, moving the rook to its northern position and keeps it there.
He will observe with interest what this piece will do. Whether he can put it back to his side or if he has to knock it over. Thinking about knocking over, he turns to the queen that has been knocked over. He stares at it for a moment before looking at the entrance to his tent.
"Damian… you giant, sentimental, over-sympathizing fool. Just this once." he whispers to himself as he resets the queen back into its original position.
No longer is it knocked down. And the hope is that he does not have to knock it over again after this.