As soon as the Batavians crammed as many noncombatants onboard as safely possible—and probably a few more after that—the boilers sprang to life. He did not know much about how airship actually worked, though he did know the whining turbines he could hear even in his hidey-hole generated enough power for both the horizontal jets and space drive. The jets, housed in nacelles on stubby delta wings at the aft of the airship, he could understand. The massive triangular space drive beneath them, a drive that was half as long as any airship, remained a mystery. He only knew that more power meant higher altitude.
Cedar wondered if this particular transport could exceed an altitude of fifty meters. It did not look very airworthy from the outside, just the hull of something that might once have sailed West Sea with wings and space drive attached. Staring at the bulkhead right in front of him, he decided it did not look airworthy on the inside. Not that it really matters, not when it was clear this airship had fire in its belly.
Once they cleared the ground, the jet engines propelling it pushed the transport along at a good clip, clearing the Verdesylvanian-Batavian border in less than an hour. He was glad his closest, or the main hold for that matter, lacked windows. He really had no desire to see his past life fly by at high speed. As he watched the bare bulb swing overhead, he wondered if he should volunteer for the Batavian Air Force as soon as they reached their destination. He knew he could not wait too long otherwise he would end up in the army. If he learned anything from listening to wireless reports of the front was that divisions worth of bones lay between the trench networks.
How many of the refugees congregating in the overcrowded hull would join them? Right now, all those people crammed into an area that normally held crates of food or bags of coal were likely too stunned, too confused to decide what they would do next. Some who now lay in one of the triple-stacked bunks would end up conscripted and dead. Others would volunteer and end up equally as dead. How many of the sapiens and pygmaeus who disembarked from this very transport, who now turned Evergreen into a new network of trenches, would ever see their homes again? Generations of hard work were about to go up in flames.
The transport was far from luxurious, yet it performed with dwarven efficiency as it hauled refugees to the nearest port. Cedar sighed again at the thought of being a refugee for the second time in as many years. He stared at the wall blankly, his mind going numb. He was not entire certain how, but he managed to fall asleep in his chair. It could not have been for more than a few minutes. When he woke, he expected to be back home, waiting for another day at work. Instead, despair and misery greeted him in a barely lit closest.
What was he doing in here moping? He really wanted—needed to be with Alder. The attack left her devastated. She and Hazel huddled somewhere in the main hold, trying desperately to learn anything they could about what fate befell their families. If any of their kin were on board, surely they would have discovered each other by now. He did not think they even managed to locate any neighbors or other friends.
Cedar was not with her, partly because he had no family to seek and partly because he had no idea what to say or how to act around others at times like these. He wondered how she would react if he tried. He did drag her away from Evergreen when she only wished frantically to locate her family. Who knows, she might even feel ill will towards him now. She certainly had just cause.
In other words, you are too scared to find out. Cedar managed to enjoy silent contemplation for not even a minute before hearing that voice again. It left him wondering if he could find peace anywhere on Eppé.
“I’ve had enough of you for one day!” Cedar snarled, nearly leaping from his chair before shaking his head in disgust. Yelling at himself was not the proper course of action at times like this. Come to think of it, was it really ever a proper action? Perhaps for a lunatic. “I wish you were real so I could slam you into the wall.”
“Your wish is my command,” the voice sounded smug almost arrogant. It took Cedar a second to realize those words came from outside of his head, a second longer than it should. A sharp white light, so bright that it felt like needles in his eyes, immediately drowned Cedar. A small silhouette began merging from the glare. Though its proportions were sapien in form, it stood no more than a meter in height. Or it would have stood a meter in height had it stood on the ground. Cedar blinked away the dazzling light, gaining a clearer picture of the one whispering into his mind.
The figure floating near him was far from impressive. His hair was almost as white as the blinding light. His eyes glowed blue, similar to Cedar’s yet far brighter in intensity. This apparition’s eyes glowed more like a pair of search lights. Though small in stature, it—he did not appear child-like in any manner. In fact, an extremely serious aura framed his body. This was a half-sized sapien with a purpose in life.
Cedar stared blankly, uncomprehending at him for a second before rolling his eyes. “Great, now I am seeing things.”
“You are not seeing anyone who is not really here,” the voice made solid told him,
“If somebody walks in here, they are going to wonder what you are and how you managed to get on board this airship,” Cedar warned him while wondering if they might not simply believe Cedar snapped under the pressure. What else could you call somebody in a broom closet arguing with himself?
The small one laughed in the face of that very threat. “Not likely. The only people who can see me are those I wish to see me.”
Cedar glowered at him, wishing that he was among the rank of the unworthy. Did seeing the voice in his head actually make him feel any better? Not really, though he was not sure if it made him feel any worse. “Who—What are you? Some sort of Arnyék?”
The voice considered his question very carefully before answering. “You can call me Lichen. As for being an Arnyék—I’m going to have to disappoint you there. I am not any sort of shade. Think of me—” he paused, tapping his finger on his chin as he thought. “That will take a bit more explaining. I suppose your kind views me as an angel, and a guardian one at that.”
Cedar’s cold stare told any who saw it that he remained extremely skeptical to say the least. He did not think he would imagine an angel. No, that was something out of the imaginations of people far more hopeful than himself. “A guardian angel?” he echoed with doubt.
Lichen nodded gravely. “Correct. The powers that be granted me the task to make certain your life does not spiral out of control and burst into a million pieces.” He quickly held up a hand as Cedar thought up a retort. “I know, I know, terrible job I have done so far with the Kais invading Verdesylvania and all. Stopping a global war is not my department. To me, your future is more important than your past.”
“Why do you care?” Cedar asked coolly, no longer caring if anyone listening outside thought him crazy. He began having doubts of his own.
Lichen ignored the question, not caring to explain or justify himself to Cedar. Instead, he pointed at the door. “Right now, there is an individual that you care very deeply about who is out there requiring comfort. And where are you right now? Inside a closet talking to a being that only you can see.”
Cedar groaned as he closed his eyes. Yes, he had gone mad. Strange that he felt no symptoms up until the last first quarter. He really did not feel like hearing a lecture from a figment of his imagination made solid by insanity. Besides, she had her friend to keep her company and Hazel’s people skills dwarfed any potential Cedar might offer. Not only that, Alder had plenty on her mind without him complicating matters.
“And I don’t care one bit for that attitude!” Lichen snapped, aiming his pointer finger squarely towards Cedar’s heart. “As one assigned the task of improving your lot in life and one who prides himself on his work, I will not quit bothering you until I see results.” The floating being hovered before him, quite adamant about his task—far more than any apparition had the right to feel.
While he did feel the need to out that and comfort Alder, the words eluded him. In delicate situations such as that, words always eluded him. He was never any good with them, not that he had much in the way of opportunities to improve his skill. “I don’t see how much of a help I can be to her.”
Lichen exhaled a sharp, frustrated sigh. “And you will never learn if you remain locked up skulking.” Lichen shook his head defiantly at Cedar’s twisted scowl. “Now, now, there is no need for that look. If you keep looking at me like that eventually your face will freeze. All I know is that you and Alder always have words to share between you. Perhaps if you would share some now, it might make her situation more bearable.”
Cedar looked away from Lichen. He wanted to heed the angel’s advice. Unfortunately, he remained uncertain as to how. He would find Alder before they arrive at—wherever this transport would take them. He was not about to let her wanted alone in a strange land. He had done that once himself and it was not much fun. As for speaking with her, what could he say to make life bearable? How does one comfort ad girl who just lost her home, her friends and possibly her family?
“Do you know what your problem is?” Lichen asked, an almost parental smile upon his face.
Cedar slumped against the wall, his legs barely holding him up. “No, but I’m willing to bet you are about to tell me.”
“And you would win that bet,” Lichen smiled brightly, literally brightly. So bright in fact that Cedar marveled nobody outside bothered investigating the light emanating from the door’s frame. “You have a severe deficiency of confidence. Not to fear; something will arise to cure you of that ailment.”
Cedar had no idea what the little angel was babbling on about not did he feel like asking.
“There’s no need to ask,” Lichen assured him. “I will tell you one thing; there are plenty of recruiters at the Fortress.”
Unlike Lichen spoke the name, Cedar could only speculating as to their destination. Of course, just because the angel said it did not mean the Fortress was their destination. Though, it would be a logical destination. Not only did it sit close to the border, it also served as headquarters for the Batavian Air Force and armies. Recalling the Batavian habit of conscripting, either for martial or civil service, though who were not paying close attention, he wondered how many refugees would soon learn they volunteered.
“Relax,” Lichen told him firmly. “It’s my duty to insure nothing happens to you. It’s not going to be a very fun assignment if you ask me.” With a shrug, he added, “What can you do?”
Cedar had not asked, nor would he. He decided he would continue skulking for a little while longer as he tried his best to ignore Lichen. All-in-all, he already could see the voyage ahead would be a long trip.
The Batavian transport touched down at one of the fifteen port facilities built into the mountain commonly dubbed the Fortress. It had an official name, one Cedar struggled to recall. Dozens of cruisers patrolled within five kilometers of the stronghold, effectively neutralizing the perfect concealment of the Fortress. Cedar imagined people hiking up the mountain, never realizing beneath their feet sat the largest underground fortress in the world.
Cedar saw little scenery on the outside as they landed, making him wonder if anyone would hike here. This was unreclaimed land, suitable only for Eppiforms. He quickly located Alder and Hazel, both hardly moving since evacuating Evergreen. Alder looked up at him with sad, reddened eyes. She barely slept on the voyage and looked the part. Mud and soot blasted up from the attack patched her green exercise outfit. Hazel did not look much better.
Like most sapiens, they were not looking forward to living as refugees underground. The pygmaeus of Batavia excavated the Fortress from its mountain starting a century ago, taking decades to complete. The predominately dwarven population of the nation constructed their cities deep underground, happily living in tunnels delved long ago. According to legends, legends that have no evidence supporting them, the Ancients engineered gnomes and dwarves as laborers. Digging and forging literally ran in their veins.
Stolen story; please report.
Since it sat beneath a twenty thousand meter high mountain, one of the largest in the world, the Fortress stood essentially impervious to any attack. The mountain was indeed massive; from its base at the edge of West Sea to its towering peak, it spanned a radius four times greater than its heigh. Hollowed out, it would easily fit the entire population of Verdesylvania and their livestock within its granite walls. The glaciers upon its heights covered area greater than any city. Anyone seeking this mountain easily spotted the pink ice cap long before the rest of the mountain appeared over the horizon.
Cedar cared little for living beneath the surface, nor did any of the hundreds of refugees who began stirring. The transport slowed to a crawl as it entered the nearest landing bay. Monstrous doors slid on perfectly fitted and oiled tracks, parting to betray the hidden fortress within. Hundreds of soldiers and airmen hustled on the ground, moving machinery and preparing special treatment for incoming traffic. Since it took no hits, unlike many other returning transports, maintenance crew would have an easy day—at least until their superiors transferred them to busier ports.
As soon as the ramp dropped, refugees began piling out in a more-or-less orderly fashion. Most, if not all, remained exhausted from their ordeal. So exhausted that none tried resisting commands issued to them. The smothering scent of oils struck them as they disembarked, choking more than a few refugees. Verdesylvanians lived in an open nation, with few in the way of petroleum burning products outside the scattered autos and were nowhere near as accustomed to the fumes as Batavians.
Alder coughed at first contact with the exhausts. Cedar grabbed hop of her, preventing her from collapsing. She put her arm around Cedar, allowing him to assist her the rest of the way. Cedar could not help but enjoy her warmth so close to him. It was going to make telling her of his decision to enlist harder than anticipated. Much harder than the actual enlistment process. The massive military complex would not lack in those willing to accept volunteers.
See, told you so, Lichen said from his cloaked vantage.
Cedar’s cold eyes turned upwards. He knew that floating being was somewhere nearby. The angel overlooked the fact that their ordeal left Alder exhausted, close to the breaking point. She would lean on anyone who offered support. She would have to rely on Hazel once Cedar left. He felt horrible about leaving her, yet what choice had he? He could either enlist or get drafted. Better to join under his own terms than scooped up while napping.
Then why has she not leaned against Hazel? Cedar found Lichen’s question pointless. Her petite friend lacked the strength Cedar possessed, which was not saying much. Alright, bad example but there are plenty of stronger individuals around than you. Now explain that.
Cedar began growing tired himself. Every word Lichen slipped into his mind wore away at him. He yawned loud enough to startle Alder, who struggled to remain awake. She continued staggering along, using Cedar as support, snuggling closer for comfort. Cedar decided to just let her rest. He could tell her tomorrow.
Watch your step, Lichen warned, causing Cedar to stop short of a moving vehicle, a tractor hauling ordinance at what he thought was an unsafe speed. Cedar hissed at the driver, who remained oblivious to anything around him save his orders. Oblivious and clearly indifferent.
Once out of the port, refugees began dispersing. Cedar led Alder and Hazel towards and open space where they could rest, preferably some place as far from internal combustion engines as possible. Quite an impossible feat considering the Fortress was designed and built by dwarves, and thus had little to no wasted space. Virtually every cubic meter they allocated to some function, and those that stood empty did so because the installation’s builders foresaw the need for future expansion.
Most of the refugees ignored the three. They had problems enough to call their own. Even those who might have known Alder or Hazel a week before paid them little attention. Just like Alder, none of them knew if all their families escaped the war. It was quite a disheartening sensation not knowing. Cedar still knew nothing of the fate of his kin in Tavor. He was one of the few who managed to escape.
Maybe you should take from your own experience to help support Alder, Lichen offered. When Cedar said nothing, the angel sighed melodramatically. This job is going to be far more difficult than anyone would believe.
Cedar tried his best to ignore Lichen as they sought a place for rest. Try as he might, he could never push the angel completely from his thoughts. He always hovered there, like an itch in the back of his mind. He knew there was nothing there, yet like a phantom limb it itched all the same. Focusing on the task ahead of him helped if only a little. In the wide corridors of the Fortress, there were plenty of spots against the wall where refugees could stay out of the way and seek shelter. Sometimes, quite literally. They were not the first refugees to call this place home.
Seeing tents indoors was strange enough; seeing shacks cobbled together from cinder blocks and sheet metal, that caused all their of their hearts to sink. These refugees have lived here for a while. How long would those evacuated from Evergreen call this place home? For Cedar, he knew it would not be too long. Seeing the servicemen busy at work only encouraged him further to enlist. He thought about the air force, about a branch of the service where his technical skill might have a use.
Jet Force, Lichen whispered to him, first as a lone word then soon as a mantra. When Cedar wished a glance over his shoulder, he spotted the angel. Lichen merely smiled. Trust me on this one.
The Batavian Jet Force, right—and how exactly would Cedar survive their basic training, to say nothing of further training in use of their jet pack was beyond him. Even with an accelerated training regime brought about by a war, it would still take at least twelve weeks. He thought he had a decent chance with the air force—
No, the Jet Force, Lichen insisted, each word spoken making the itch in Cedar’s mind grow worse. You will pass through basic training with no problems. Never forget that I am here to watch out for you. If I say you can make it, you will. They need radio operators too.
Cedar was not so sure about that. They were the elite among Batavia’s armed forces, a small group of airborne infantry who boarded enemy vessels and captured fortified positions from the air. While it did sound exciting, heroic even, it also sounded exceptionally deadly. Not as deadly as a soldier in some fixed location where artillery and machine guns could reduce them to scraps but deadly all the same.
Your odds of surviving the war are far greater than getting killed in the Jet Force. Up there, Lichen pointed to the ceiling high above and the sky far beyond it. The enemy must aim directly at you. Anything fired must have your name and address upon it. Not like in the trenches, where the attacks are usually labeled ‘to whom it may concern’. Mobile warfare is far safer than the static variety.
It made logical sense, in a horrid sort of way. When one was in constant motion without any sort of concentrated fire aimed his way, then one was far likelier to live to see the end of the war. Maybe he should enlist in the Jet Force. What sort of restrictions would the elite brotherhood place upon foreigners? Tavor was never in the habit of letting outsiders waltz in to enlist within its armed forces. Too bad since they might have put up a decent fight even if they still would have lost.
At this point, Batavia’s armed forces are accepting any healthy body. Given your skill working the radio, I doubt they would pass up the chance to have you in their ranks. Lichen spoke as if it were a foregone conclusion, that Cedar already passed through basic training for both the infantry and airborne aspects of the Jet Force.
The more Cedar thought about it, the more appeal it had. To be part of a small brotherhood, to actually belong some place for the first time in his life. He glanced over at Alder, who still partly used him as support. As they reached an open space against the wall, she let go and stumbled towards the wall. One in contact with the smooth, polished granite, she slowly slid to the ground, defeated by the whole ordeal.
Cedar worried about leaving her behind as he endure whatever training the Jet Force considered basic. True, she would not be here alone, though that did not make Cedar feel any better for abruptly departing. It felt to him almost like he was abandoning her in this strange place. For the first time in her life, she would be on her own. She would have been soon enough anyway, though that had more to do with continuing her schooling in a far more comfortable environment that wide corridors delved into a mountain.
There was no way that his decision would not upset her. Cedar waited as the girls took their seat for Lichen to dispute the point. I would like to, but you are right. She will not be happy about it, at least not at first. Give her time and she will understand your decision as she mulls over it. After all, you have lost two homes to the Kais already. That would be enough to make anyone want to take a stand. Besides, after she understands how Batavian society works, she will decide that had you not volunteered, somebody else would have volunteered you as you slept. Strange people these Batavians.
Cedar silently agreed. They were strange, especially when it came to elections. It was more like a lottery and those chosen usually were not paying close enough attention at the time to dispute the decision. A man could leave a meeting for a couple of minutes only to return and discover everyone else elected him to the task unanimously, with not a dissenting voice. He did not think either Alder or Hazel had to worry too much about that, not unless the Fortress suffers a manpower shortage, and they need more people working in the factories.
Cedar slowly sat next to Alder, keeping her between himself and the other friend. How was he going to tell her? As always, the right words eluded him. Would his guardian angel intervene, guiding him down the right path? After close to a minute of silence, he decided not. He was going to have to do this himself. “Alder, I’m going to enlist in the Jet Force,” he said, blurting it out. He felt Lichen cringe at his bluntness. We need to work on your delivery.
She slowly turned to face him, confusion upon her face. “What? Where is this coming from?” she asked, her voice tight with worry and fear.
Cedar could not decide if that fear was for herself of for Cedar. It would be for you, Lichen whispered into his mind. Perhaps. War was far from a safe occupation. The only thing he could think of that might be more dangerous was mining and the pygmaeus around here that industry cornered. “I am going to enlist. The Kais had driven me from two homes, and I can’t run any more. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
He wanted to say that he was also doing so to keep her safe yet held that back. It sounded weak to his mind; something said a million times over in the past. Besides, she was now within one of the most heavily fortified locations on Eppé. The only way she would not remain safe her was if Batavia lost the war. Then tell her that. She would love to hear it, no matter how silly you think it sounds.
Cedar ignored the advice, watching instead as Alder leaned against the wall. She closed her eyes and turned her expression upwards towards the ceiling. Or perhaps even beyond. Cedar thought himself prepared for any response, be it anger or sorrow. He remained speechless as she sat silently. The silence lasted long enough that Cedar wondered is she had fallen asleep. Probably, given everything she endured.
Hazel was already out, leaning her head upon her friend’s shoulder as she slept soundly. If being able to sleep on a concrete floor with a granite did not prove exhaustion, then what did? Was there really anything he could say to her silence? Sure there is, but we both know you will not, Lichen sighed heavily, knowing his charge was not about to budge. Not yet anyway. Instead, Cedar brooded for a few second before climbing back to his feet. Looking back as he headed to the recruiter, all he could saw was, “I’m sorry.”