Over the next few days, the rain came to an end, but an endless sea of gray clouds remained in the sky. This only reinforced the somber atmosphere on the outskirts of the city of Androscoggin as Isaac stood with other men and women, all dressed in black. A grand church loomed behind them; a field of tombstones stretched before them. At Isaac’s feet lay a patch of dirt freshly dug open; once workers had lowered the black casket inside, nearby soldiers fired their rifles into the air.
The crowd watched in silence as the workers shoveled the first piles of dirt down into the hole. Mackenzie watched silently the whole time, looking as though she wore a mask. All the members of Squads 1, 2, and 3 attended Kieran’s funeral, all of them watching stoically as their comrade returned to the earth. Dozens of other people stood silently as well; Isaac could only recognize a few of them. General Stockham kept his eyes on the coffin, seemingly all too-aware of the way Mr. Cartwright glared daggers at him from the other side of the pit. Near the patriarch of the Cartwright family stood stone-faced members of the Naval Police; the man with the most stars on his shoulders must have been Commandant Firmino. Next to him, standing close to Cartwright in support, was Vice Commandant Spinelli, whom Officer Connor previously spoke of with much disdain.
Naval Police officers also stood next to an elderly man who carried a look of exhaustion with him. Thanks to a conversation with Babs on the train from Narragansett to Androscoggin, Isaac recognized him as none other than Stockham’s lone superior - Secretary of the Navy Ricci, the most powerful man in the entire branch. He had served in that capacity for nearly a decade. In contrast, a powerfully-built man in his mid-fifties stood next to him - this was Admiral Broadhurst, Commander of the Arcadian Navy Combined Fleet. In simpler terms - every ship and conventional marine at the Navy’s disposal answered to Broadhurst. His marines, including Lieutenant Derry, had aided Squad 3 during their raid on the Melusine. Ricci carried a resigned look to his face; Isaac wondered how many funerals for young men and women he had to attend during his career. In contrast, Broadhurst looked full of youthful vigor, determination burning in his eyes.
The gravestone looked on as the last of the dirt filled the hole. Engravers had carved Kieran’s monument with skilled hands, though in contrast to many of the opulent graves in the Cartwright family cemetery, Kieran would be merely remembered by a small stone block.
KIERAN CARTWRIGHT
2481 - 2501
With the funeral over, the attendees slowly drifted away, back towards the waiting chauffeurs and cars. The majority of the crowd consisted of socialites, tycoons, and other friends of the Cartwright family; Isaac suspected they had never paid Kieran any mind while he was alive, and only attended now to keep up appearances. Mr. Cartwright himself seemed angrier with Stockham than despondent about his son. He departed with Vice Commandant Spinelli in tow. Stockham himself gave the grave one last look before taking up a solemn walk back to his car.
While the Naval Police officers escorted Secretary Ricci away, Broadhurst arrived next to the three squads. He pulled his cap down from his head, revealing a neat buzzcut of gray hair.
“Remain strong,” he told them, an intensity in both his voice and face. “His death will be the first of many in this path of longing and corpses we've chosen to endure. But the time will come when we walk it together.”
When the squads slowly responded with nods, Broadhurst placed his cap back on and departed. Only the three squads remained now. With the constant coverage of the gray clouds above them, time seemed to stand still. None of them were sure how long they stood there for.
With a wipe of her eyes, Lynn was the first to depart, nervously twirling her streak of blue hair. Babs headed out after to offer her support, so Reed came along, too. Dan and Demetrius filed out after them as well, leaving just Isaac, Mackenzie, and Oksana standing at the grave. Isaac had never seen Oksana appear sad before, but when it came to sorrow, she was no different than anybody else. She stood away from Isaac and Mackenzie; he heard sniffling, and then she walked off with her head hanging down low.
Back before the raid, Oksana was the only cadet to remain on the field with Kieran while everybody else went to the hall for training. She claimed it was to cultivate for Circuit 2, but from the sight of her hunched shoulders as disappeared amid the field of tombs, Isaac wondered if she had something else on her mind and in her heart during that week of training.
Only Mackenzie and Isaac remained by the grave. The tall girl had kept the same stoic look on her face since Kieran died at the Machigonne offices.
“Your |Fists of Anji| aren’t faster than my |Twilight Beam|”, she said quietly. “In normal circumstances, I would’ve vaporized Sam with my Beam before your Fist could reach him. But…”
She glanced over at him, revealing the exhausted look in her eyes. But a hint of a smile appeared on her face as she spoke. “It might have been for a brief moment, but I lived as you. I know the sorrow you carry in your heart for your deceased brother is the same as mine. For you to fight to eradicate evil, rather than mere vengeance…perhaps I listened to it. My Beam was slower than normal, allowing your Fist to reach Sam first on that rooftop.”
After Isaac (and Oksana the snake) had neutralized Sam, the cultivator marine cadets took their prisoners from Machigonne back to the Elizabeth Pond naval base in the same truck they arrived in. Sam required bindings to be placed around his legs, hands, and mouth, while the civilians came quietly.
“When it came to the investigation, we were closing in on a dead end,” Isaac said. “With Sam in custody, we can get some information out of him now. We can take that next step toward finding the truth.” Yes, the State Police needed to go, but Isaac didn't like the idea of a rebel group tossing around atomic bombs, either. And by defeating the Restorationists, he could rise in the ranks as well, putting him one step closer toward his ultimate goal.
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“And then we’ll destroy the evil in this country.” Mackenzie took a deep breath, then looked off into the distance. Beyond the cemetery lay the rolling hills and eventual forests of northern Arcadia. “I told you I would become the leader of the Corps one day. I still plan on that. But I never stopped to consider what my next goal would be after that. What would be the purpose behind my leadership?”
The distance trees swayed in the breeze. “We’ll eradicate injustice as we rise through the ranks together,” she said, passion swelling in her voice. “And then, once I'm in charge, I’ll ensure evil never arises again. I hope you’ll fight alongside me.”
Isaac nodded, but still couldn’t fully relax. Mackenzie still new about his revolutionary ideals, and ‘destroying evil’ didn’t mean she necessarily condoned them.
“As for your anti-government thoughts,” she said, understanding the look on his face. “Your love and sorrow for your brother, as well as our shared desire to destroy the evil in this country, will be my only takeaways from when I lived as you. Evil is a spectrum, and there’s certainly overlap in our definitions.”
Defeating the Restorationists - that was their common ground. In memory of Kieran, they would continue to fight.
“And by the way,” Mackenzie said, pausing to glance back at Isaac. “At the end of the battle with Sam, Babs sent out her |Wind Palm| as well, remember? You might have been to focused on me to notice, but she was going for the kill as well.”
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Prior to the raid on the Melusine, Squad 3 met in the underground operations room. Prior to the raid on the Machigonne offices, Squads 1, 2, and 3 met in a conference room with a projector. For this meeting, Stockham called Isaac and Babs to see him in his office. Though the General maintained his jovial attitude and puffed on his usual cigar, Isaac detected a sense of strain in his words as he spoke.
And, to be perfectly honest, Stockham should’ve sounded more strained. Twice now, he sent squads of cadets to raid locations that turned out to be heavily defended with strong resistance. The first raid cost the lives of a dozen marines, and this last one cost the life of Kieran. Where were the normal cultivator squadrons and platoons? Why were cadets being sent to risk their lives?
“I suppose I owe you two an explanation,” Stockham surmised upon seeing Isaac and Babs. Since they were dealing with their commander, both of them kept neutral looks on their faces, but Isaac doubted he was that good at concealing his emotions. “The greatest weapon at a person’s arsenal is not rifles or cannons or even cultivation - it’s knowledge. Knowledge is the great equalizer among men. It’s why I, a man with no cultivation powers, rose so high in the ranks. So, I will allow you two to learn as to how we ended up in the situation we currently find ourselves in."
A puff of smoke drifted from Stockham’s mouth. “Secretary Ricci has a career of distinguished service and is firmly entrenched in his position, but he is growing elderly. The Army and State Police circle the Navy like vultures, seeking any way to weaken it. When my predecessor as commander of the Cultivator Marine Corps was assassinated, the Army and State Police wanted Spinelli for the job."
"The Vice Commandant?" Isaac asked.
"Before he took that office, Spinelli was a Colonel within the Cultivator Marine Corps. He was highly popular among the rank-and-file, known for his charisma. But he had too many links to the Army and State Police. Too many visits to the logging camps up north."
Logging camps. The military dictatorship-equivalent of telling a child their dog was taken to a farm upstate. The people sent to the State Police logging camps never returned home. Even Isaac, hailing from a small town, knew of the rumors surrounding the torture and misery in those prisons. Perhaps it's a good thing Spinelli didn't get the job.
Stockham leaned forward with a narrowed look to his eyes. The implication was clear - whatever he said must not leave this room. "The Army and State Police control the nation's treasury. When Secretary Ricci and Commandant Firmino refused to appoint Spinelli to head the Cultivator Marine Corps, they threatened the Navy with budget cuts. The Cartwrights wanted him too - the depression's hit them hard and they wanted to get in good with the Army and State Police. Ricci and Firmino might've budged, but then Spinelli's loudmouth son worked with Mr. Cartwright to publish unflattering remarks about the Navy in the papers. Ricci and Firmino moved Spinelli to a desk jockey position within the Naval Police, where Firmino could keep an eye on him, while they compromised by appointing me, just a bureaucrat within the Naval Research Department, as head of the Cultivator Marine Corps."
The General took a deep breath, aware of just how tenuous his position was. "The Army and State Police told Firmino he didn't have the authority to investigate the country's smuggling. His Naval Police could only ensure law and order within the Navy, according to them. However, both Admiral Broadhurst of the Combined Fleet and I consider it a threat to national security. That's why he and I are using our marines to investigate it." He looked over the two cadets. “In times of war, I’ll use the full-fledged Cultivator Marines. But for something like this, I need subordinates fully loyal to myself. I can’t entirely trust my Cultivator Marines. Spinelli still wields a great deal of influence over them. I can only trust my own Cadets. That’s why I’ve been deploying you.”
Ash fell into the tray after Stockham gave his cigar a light tap. “I wished to deploy a different cadet squad for Machigonne, but Cartwright pressured me. His family's playing both sides - trying to ally with the Army and State Police by supporting Spinelli, while providing extra funding to the Navy so we have to listen to him. No doubt, he saw this as an opportunity to deal a blow against me - either Mackenzie takes all the credit, or something happens to either sibling and gives them a reason to replace me. I fell into their trap - I deployed the Cartwright siblings, and now one is dead. I suspect, in the coming weeks, there will be a great deal in the newspapers about how my incompetence led to the death of the young hero Kieran.” He leaned back in his seat. “But truthfully, perhaps it has.”
“Mr. Cartwright is going to use his own son’s death to further his own agenda?” Isaac asked in disbelief.
“You know Kieran’s story better than I do,” Stockham answered. “His father never cared for him. You think death would change that?”
It wouldn’t. Isaac understood that, so he kept quiet.
“There is going to be a power struggle in the near future. I was chosen as a compromise, perhaps because my opponents thought I would fail and could be replaced with Spinelli. Perhaps I still will. And should that happen, I have no doubt that all you cadets will be purged for your association with me.”
A purge meant either immediate execution or shipment up north to the State Police logging camps. The execution might actually be the preferable choice.
More ash fell into the tray, creating a mound of gray dust. “We must all stick together in these times,” Stockham concluded. “We must hang together, lest we all hang separately.”