When Isaac really thought about it, a discomforting pattern appeared across his missions. Almost every single time, he would end them heavily wounded and falling into unconsciousness, and the first thing he always saw when he awoke afterwards was the ceiling of the base’s hospital. It would be nice to end a mission without passing out, or at least being able to wake up a little earlier.
He got his wish this time. Isaac found himself on a stretcher in the back of a military truck. As he sat up, his head felt like somebody had driven a spike through it (and then driven a spike through that), but the roads they drove down looked like they were on the receiving end of an even bigger beating. Firefighters, paramedics, and local police forces worked hard along the avenues, clearing debris, evacuating the wounded, calming down the grieving, and putting the dead into body bags. The truck passed below a ruined bridge, its jagged form casting a long shadow over Isaac.
Mackenzie and Dan sat with him in the truck. She looked at the ruins in utter dismay; Dan put on a brave face. When they noticed he had awoken, they could only give him looks of sympathy.
“How’d you get up on that giant?” Dan asked, breaking the silence, no doubt trying to alleviate the stress with light conversion.
Isaac rubbed his eyes. “Ended up hanging on to a strand of hair as she transformed. Is everyone okay? And where’s Reed?”
“She’s fine,” Mackenzie answered. “She’s in the hospital cultivating her injuries away. Everyone else has been accounted for except for Babs.”
Dan tugged at his collar. “Did you happen to see her? We returned to the base right as the giant rampaged away down the avenue. We found everybody else but her. I hope she’s alright.”
Neither of them wanted another friend to die. But perhaps the truth was worse. When they saw the look on his face, their optimism quickly faded. When he told them about her true nature, Mackenzie looked out towards the city, covering her mouth a fist, while Dan slumped in his seat and stared at the sky. Nobody talked for the rest of the ride home.
Their home wasn’t in that good shape, either. The giant had utterly torn apart the base; the roads were in disarray, as were the buildings and people. A Naval Police officer let them through, but once inside the fortress walls, potholes and craters prevented the truck from getting any further. A fleet of construction vehicles and crewmen pushed away the debris and recovered corpses; the bobcats and bulldozers all bore the label CARTWRIGHT CONSTRUCTION on their faded yellow sides.
The pair of cadets helped Isaac out of the truck. His legs felt like jelly and he leaned on Dan’s shoulder for support. A beefy hand appeared out of the crowd; Osip stepped towards them, the displeasure with the situation obvious in his face.
“Cadet Spallacio,” he said in a deep voice. “Come with me. Stockham needs a report as soon as possible."
“Hey!” Mackenzie cut in. “He’s injured, give him a minute.”
Isaac stepped forward. “Thank you, but it’s alright.” He had a lot to talk about anyway. The trio of cadets shared forlorn looks with each other, but then, with an arm around Osip’s muscular neck, Isaac made the long walk to the keep at the back of the base. Outside of a few collapsed sections caused by falling debris, it had weathered the worst of the storm. Neither Osip nor Isaac said anything during the walk, and then they were inside the keep. Two guards let them inside a conference room.
The Naval brass stood in silence around a long, refined wooden table that featured a powerful radio in the center. Stockham smoked a cigar while looking out the window; Commandant Firmino of the Naval Police had his arms crossed in dismay; Admiral Broadhurst of the Combined Fleet poured over battle maps strewn across the table. A pile of boxes stood stacked in the back of the room, overflowing with files and more maps. Secretary Ricci, the head of the whole Navy, was nowhere to be found. Perhaps the old man's taking his afternoon nap.
Stockham must’ve noticed the look on his face. “Secretary Ricci will not be joining us today. He’s currently with Secretary Alexander and Chief Amien. The latter will be making a speech soon regarding the recent violence.”
Recent violence. That’s one way to put it.
The brass wanted a report; Isaac needed no further prompting. They already suspected Babs of being the traitor, so he started with the fight atop the giant and then his vision quest of Babs’ memories. Earlier, Isaac would’ve hesitated to reveal someone else’s personal story, but the bridge had been kind of burned already on that one. The weapon and alliance of four junior officers across the various factions initially had the brass's deepest attention, but by the end, the Mind overshadowed them all.
“Five hundred years?” Firmino repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Nobody can live that long.”
“She’s not human,” Isaac said. “She’s made of the same material as the Heart, and that’s lived just as long.”
Stockham snuffed a cigar. “This Caesar also claimed to be the longest living being too, didn’t he?”
“Longest living human,” Broadhurst corrected. His sharp eyes had been deep in thought the entire time Isaac told his tale. “My first thought was that Caesar would be the Soul, but he claimed to be human while the Mind clearly stated she wasn’t.”
“Because she lacks a soul,” Isaac recalled.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Firmino pounded a fist against the table. “So, both the Restorationists and State Police have ancient beings from before the Unleashing on their sides, while all we have is the equivalent of a plant or battery?”
“Had,” Broadhurst corrected once again.
The Commandant threw his hands up and paced around the room, which fell into silence. The metaphoric energy in the room shifted toward a single conclusion:
Just what the hell is going on?
“We’ll have to focus on the machinations of the ancients later,” Stockham concluded. “For now, we need to work with what we can. The junior officers of the Restorationists, State Police, Zhanghai, and Naval Police formed a temporary alliance to hijack the Heart. Based on your testimony, it sounds like the State Police are no longer involved, while the Naval Police is subject to debate.”
The men looked at Firmino, who removed his blue cap and wiped his hair.
“Praise the Skyfather,” he mumbled. “I’m not surprised, but we must move carefully. Our only evidence of Henry Spinelli's involvement is the memories implanted into this cadet’s head. Can we even trust them? Couldn’t the Mind have been showing you lies?”
Isaac shook his head. “I know they’re true. I felt it in me.” He and Osip - who kept his arms crossed and on guard during the entire meeting - were the only cultivators there. The brass, for all their authority, didn’t have a sense of the esoteric and unbelievable like Isaac did.
Firmino stared down at his cap. “Even if the memories are true, it’s not like we can display them as evidence. And we’ll need evidence if we’re going against Henry. Both he and his father are popular among the rank-and-file, not to mention with the Cartwright family.”
“That’ll take time,” Broadhurst said. “I already have Henry monitored, but he’s been careful to hide his movements-”
Firmino slammed another fist on the table. “You’re monitoring one of my men without my knowledge?”
Broadhurst merely nodded. “For the good of the country, yes.”
Before the altercation could continue any further, the triumphant trumpets and bugles of the Arcadian national anthem blasted out of the radio. Firmino turned the volume up; the men in the room, along with the entirety of the country, listened to the Chief of the State Police speak. Long ago, this man had been the endgame of Isaac’s desire for vengeance over his brother’s death. Things had come such a long way since then. Amien needed to go, but so did the vast conspiracy pulling the strings.
Except Babs said there’s not one. Nobody’s fully behind the wheel. It’s a bunch of schemes crashing against one another. It’s not just Amien. I need to keep my eyes open for anyone.
“Good evening, people of Arcadia,” Amien began. Though propaganda posters exaggerated his features, Amien's neat black hair and spectacles didn't make him all that physically imposing. However, his voice sounded crisp and smooth; every word sounded confident, final, and absolute. Isaac wouldn’t call it charisma - what radiated out of Amein's voice was authority. “A terrible tragedy has befallen our great nation today. A terrorist attack has struck our capital in broad daylight. The casualties are in the thousands. Families have been shattered, lives have been lost.”
The radio crackled for a moment. “But the strength of the Arcadian people is extraordinary. No nation can dare claim to possess the bravery and courage we do. Already, our fearless firemen, doctors, police officers, soldiers, and volunteer civilians have stemmed the tide of damage and launched their counterattack. The damage done today would be far worse were it not for their bravery. I salute them.”
Amien sure knows how to work a crowd. Isaac could imagine Arcadians in their homes, gathered around the family radio, nodding in agreement. Many feared the State Police - but many felt that if you had nothing to hide, you had nothing to fear. Isaac was an outlier.
“A dastardly enemy is behind these attacks,” Amien continued. “And we have already found the culprits. None other than the Zhanghai Industrial Corporation is behind this cowardly act of terrorism.”
The men in the room all exchanged glances.
Amien’s voice swelled with a cold sort of passion. “For too long, Zhanghai has lived off the fat of the land while we Arcadians toil under their cruel whip. Their claws have ensnared the entire country; their tendrils reach everywhere. Who keeps the wages of the miners down? Who strangles our native industries in the crib to further their own? Whose corporate samurai patrol the street, beholden to the laws not of this land, but of their homeland across the sea? Zhanghai. After the barbarians had us at their mercy, Zhanghai offered their help, and we accepted in good faith, because we are honest people. We will not make that mistake again. We will deliver justice to the barbarians, and we will start by freeing our homeland.”
The radio died down for a moment as Amien allowed the people of Arcadia to reflect on his words. “On behalf of Supreme Commander Pulaski, I am issuing Executive Order 417. As of now, all Zhanghai assets within Arcadia have been nationalized. The time has come to free the people of this great country from their chains.”
Nationalized? Isaac didn’t know what the word meant, but the brass all shared shocked looks with each other. Even Osip shared that same emotion, his stoic face twisting in confusion.
“Zhanghai railroads now belong to the people. Zhanghai factories now belong to the people. Zhanghai ports now belong to the people. Everything belongs to us now. As I speak, military forces are on their way to claim what is rightfully ours.”
“He means Army and State Police,” Firmino muttered. “We weren’t informed of this whatsoever.”
“Military commitment and bravery will be required,” Amien said. “No doubt, Zhanghai will try to hold on to their ill-gotten gains. We must act to protect the people. All local police forces, emergency response organizations, and firefighting units will be placed under temporary State Police jurisdiction until the crisis has passed. And on behalf of Supreme Commander Pulaski, I am placing the entire country under martial law effective immediately. A nationwide curfew is now in place, and I advise everyone to return to their homes to await the storm. But have no fear - once the storm lifts, the light will never have been as bright, nor the air ever as free.”
I’m warning you - if you continue to work with the military, both my Caesar and the State Police will advance their plans. You’ll be responsible for untold suffering if, right here and right now, you refuse to join forces with me.
Babs’ words rang in Isaac’s ears. So this is what she’s afraid of. The State Police are using the incident today to further tighten their control over the country. A Zhanghai train getting attacked wouldn’t have let them do that. But an attack on a major naval base right in the city would be the perfect pretext.
The other men in the room all knew that too.
“Be strong, Arcadia,” Amien concluded. “Be brave. Be bold. And endure. By the sword, we seek peace. A quiet peace, under liberty.”
The radio crackled out. Somewhere, off in the distance, a machine gun rattled. Muffled explosions soon followed. Warplanes flew overhead in the sky, their low drones echoing around the city.