[403] 5.27 Subterfuge

The following morning— and it’s hard to believe that it’s only Sunday after everything that’s happened these past two days— we find our way back to a certain military compound just outside of DC that I’ve visited once and hoped deep down never to have to do so again.  Security is as tight as it is impotent in an age where people have the power to, among other things, carry literal nuclear weapons in their [Inventory].  Come to think of it, I didn’t actually try forcing the warheads into my [Inventory] in the heat of the moment yesterday.  Perhaps I should’ve.

We play along with the meaningless theatrics nonetheless before we’re ushered past the security checkpoint and permitted into the base itself, where I’m forced to make some corrections to my above dismissal.  Between the giant death rays pointed toward the checkpoint and the nearly-invisible barrier formation erected around the entire fortress, perhaps the security was less theater than I had initially suspected.

I could probably survive a head-on strike from that attack.  Most people wouldn’t.  I still wouldn’t have a good time of it.

Despite it being Sunday, the base is absolutely swarming with soldiers.  Troops are marching in formation while others practice their Skills on combat dummies and spar in controlled matches with senior non-commissioned officers watching hawkeyed.  A pair of fighter jets, each with mounted Ethertech ray weapons, zooms overhead at what I calculate is close to Mach 7, far beyond my own top speed.  Still other planes are on the tarmac with pilots standing by, ready to sortie in mere minutes if need be.

In the command center, the halls are even more frenetic.  Orders are being shouted down halls rapid-fire, while runners with [Speed]-focused classes jog past the two of us in a flash.  We arrive at the desk of the extremely overworked secretary working through two files simultaneously.  She spares us barely a glance before clicking two buttons on her phone register.

“Colonel Hughes, two high-importance visitors for the General,” she says.  Another glance follows, then a glance toward the side of the room.  She doesn’t say a word to us.  Given the circumstances, I don’t take it as an affront.

We stand against a side wall, staying as out of the way as possible.  All the while, I listen in and catch what snippets I can.  None of it is comforting.  On account of confirmed nuclear weapons being launched, the entire military remains at DEFCON 1.  All members of every state’s National Guard, save those already deployed on homeland missions, are being called into active duty, as are reserve- and stop-lossed enlistees and officers alike.  War has not yet been officially declared against Apeiron.  No one here expects that to last past tomorrow when Congress reconvenes for emergency sessions.

It takes one hundred and thirty-two seconds for the colonel in question to arrive.  He’s shorter than I’d expected, barely taller than Chloe.  He salutes each of us, and we return the gesture as we stand and follow our way to the back.

“I apologize for the lack of hospitality, ma’ams.  I hope that, given the circumstances, you can forgive us.”

“It’s fine,” Chloe says before I can.  “We’re just trying to find out what we can do to make all this shit go away as soon as possible.”

“At the risk of speaking for others, more capable hands are always going to be welcome.”

He opens the door to another conference room.  Chloe takes her seat at the head of the table, while I sit just to her right.  He conjures two glasses of ice water from his [Inventory], accompanied by the crackle of red lightning.  Each of us takes one before he departs, with another salute.

“It’s still weird, being saluted everywhere we go,” Chloe says.

“Weird, yes.  But it would be far more awkward to try to tell them not to when they’ve been trained and encouraged to do exactly that.”

“Oh, I am not saying you are wrong about that.”

“By the way, are you still upset about yesterday?”

“A little bit, yeah.  I do get it, and I understand your new impulses to protect people.  I just don’t want you or anyone else to keep treating me like I’m weak and frail and have to be protected.”

“I get it, Chloe.”  I give her hand a squeeze.  “I really, really do.”

“I know you do, love.  In short, I forgive you.  Just don’t make a habit of it.”

Nicholas arrives just in time to prevent any sort of awkward silence.  He’s joined by Colonel Hughes from before, along with a second man I don’t know and, to my extreme surprise, Lindsey.  She offers a polite smile and a wave instead of a salute as she takes the seat just to the right of me.  Everyone else takes their own seats.

Nicholas sits at the opposite end of the table from Chloe, and with a single harrumph, calls the meeting to order.  The door locks and tiny glyphs briefly illuminate the walls and the single window.  The construction of the sound-suppression array is immaculate, and has additional scrambling and modulation features embedded within to further distort any attempts to surveil the room.

A moment later, once the formation has stabilized, he speaks. “Miss Mortensen, I’m glad to see that you’ve recovered more quickly than initially expected.  I assume this is a result of Miss Jacobs’ magic?”

Chloe gives a nod.

“Excellent.  For time’s sake, I must request we dispense with further pleasantries given the circumstances.  To state my request plainly, Miss Mortensen, Miss Jacobs, I would like both of you to accompany Sergeant Reed to the following coordinates.”

I take a look at them, furrowing my brows.  He wants us to head to some island I’ve never heard of in the far southern part of the world, relatively close to Antarctica.  But why the hell would we be sent there?

He answers before I can ask.  “Bouvet Island.  One of the most isolated locations on the planet.  Uninhabited, a protectorate of Norway, due to geopolitical quirks.  However, recent radiological and satellite imagery suggests that there have been people coming to and leaving the place at a rate that suggests activities of a potentially nefarious aim.  In light of recent intelligence, we have reason to believe that Apeiron is behind this movement.  Your task is to infiltrate the island, gather what information and documents you can, and relay that information either to me or, barring that, to senior officials in either American or Eurodef command.”

“Two questions,” Lindsey says.  “First, should this be considered infiltration or covert espionage?  Second, what methods have you prepared for our transport to this location?”

“While we would prefer operations to remain covert if possible, you are authorized to use any and all means and methods necessary, in your best judgement, to secure as much information as possible.  As for transportation, considering the risks of aerial transport, we have decided to commission a submarine.  We will see to it that it is armed with second-generation Ethertech munitions and the current cutting-edge of cloaking technology, both conventional and Ethertech.”

“Can deep-sea diving apparatuses be acquired for each of us as well?” I ask.  “I worry about Apeiron operatives or automatons, as well as potential deep-sea denizens.”  I don’t mention as much, but I’m also considering the possibility of undersea passages into or around the island, as well as the possibility of one or more dungeons to explore.

“We shall make arrangements to assure that and other provisions are prepared.  Do either of you have any other questions, either about this operation or about the current state of affairs?  I will answer to the best of my knowledge.”

“What is the reason for sending the three of us all the way out to the middle of nowhere right now?” Chloe asks.  “Surely we’d be of far better help on the front lines, either pushing up against Apeiron’s forces or tending to the injured or–”

“I understand your concerns, Miss Jacobs.”  Nicholas pauses.  “And I am aware of the nature of your and Miss Mortensen’s classes as well.  There will come soon the time for more direct actions on the main fronts.  However, we still have limited intelligence about this rogue organization, and you two are too valuable of pieces to risk so recklessly.  Yes, before you ask, I realize that this is my own class biasing me in much the same way that yours do.  Even correcting for the same, I still believe it’s the best course of action.”

What’s left unsaid is the secondary goal of this mission.  He’s deliberately choosing softer and more isolated targets so we can gain more Experience and Skill Ranks before we enter into the final battle.  I’m not sure how I feel about being perceived as not strong enough after everything I’ve already been through.  Considering, though, that I’ve been out of action for three years while so many others have caught up to and a few people have even surpassed my strength…  It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but I do so nonetheless.

Lindsey declines to ask anything else.  I don’t have anything else either.

“Miss Jacobs, Miss Mortensen, I must request one additional thing, which I know will be difficult for you.  Due to the sensitive nature of this operation, I am going to formally request that you remain here on base until departure.  And, related, I must request that you leave all of your electronics stored in your [Inventory] from now until the conclusion of the operation.  I will send a secured dispatch to your family to inform them of your present safety.”

“Thank you,” Chloe says.  “I’m sure my parents will be relieved to hear after everything that has happened yesterday.  And I’m sure my father will–”

“If the opportunity arises, I will get in contact with him.  Now then, I must be off.”

Chloe is mollified by the general’s words, but I see the truth buried within them.  He doesn’t trust Mr. Jacobs, and frankly, I can understand his reasoning.  I’m not confident Nicholas trusts the two of us either.  We just happen to be somewhat more irreplaceable as far as he is concerned.

Colonel Hughes and the other assistant, who never gave his name, depart.  Lindsey stays behind, closing the door behind the three men.

“It’s good to see you again, Lindsey,” Chloe says.

“I’ll say,” Lindsey says.  “It feels like it was just last month that we saw each other, but I guess it’s been closer to a year and a half.”

“Yeah,” Chloe says.  “Ever since the punchbowl incident.”

Oh gods!  I do not want to hear them rehash their ‘fond’ memories of that horror story.  Even now I just want to retreat deep into my own [Inventory] or even into subspace until I know that the both of them are done.  It takes everything I have to distract myself and partially dissociate from the ribbing I’m receiving before they finally have their fill of my discomfort and just stop already.  Traitors, Chloe and Lindsey both!

By the grace of the goddess, they have enough decency and mercy to stop before I fully break down in tears.  Chloe notices and rubs her hand against my back, although I get the feeling she’s holding back another accusation about my being ‘melodramatic’.  Because apparently, if you do one embarrassing thing, it is to be teased and exploited for cheap laughs for the rest of my life, and I can do nothing but stand there and take it!  I guess the fact no cameras were operational makes it considerably better.

I will never confirm that the EMP shortly thereafter was my doing.

“Changing the subject before Miss Punchbowl gets too upset, I’d like to invite you to dinner tonight.”

“At the mess hall?” Chloe asks.

“Let’s just say that, after these past few years, I have some officer’s mess privileges despite technically only being a master sergeant.  And I can’t think of a better time or place to use them.  The base has quite the high-level [Master Chef] on staff, and it would be a damn shame not to partake of his tasting menu while you’re here.”

My stomach rumbles.  “I suppose my stomach has already accepted the gracious invitation.”

“Wonderful!  Then I will see you at 18:30 sharp!”