“I can't believe we're doing this,” Burton muttered.
“It's what there is,” Cam shrugged. “Art says she'll be there, and that was a direct order. He didn't seem delusional… did he?”
“No, not really,” Frances analyzed. “He was sweating and weak, but his eyes were focused, and his balance was right. He really believes what he told us.”
“Cam?” Gerard looked at the book. “I strongly suggest that we seek expert help, from the Sami who live nearby… From the Robson Society, if it still exists.”
“Of course, the Society. But we don't have the slightest idea where they might be right now. Do you really think we'll have time to track them down in two or three days? This machine must be destroyed before it is fully operational: we must hurry, so much hurry.”
Gerard nodded with an inarticulate murmur.
“Listen,” Cam gestured with his hands, “we have to comply. Yes, there's a chance we won't find anything, and let's face it, it's the most likely. And then” his voice was hoarse, “everything will depend on the attack that Ponce will organize…”
“You don't sound very convincing,” Burton accused him.
Frances thought of the general's imperturbable face.
“I wonder how many men she can muster, and if he can convince the Kennéhsian governor to help.”
A couple of soldiers ran by on the other side of the street, and the squad hid behind some dusty cars. They were still wearing the stolen uniforms, but that didn't matter, the last thing they wanted right now was to attract attention, or worse, conversation.
The captain considered speeding up the march, but even if they were few, the remaining soldiers and those watching from the sky and the buildings still posed a considerable risk.
They continued, feigning indifference to the presence of other passersby and carefully scanning every window.
When they reached the northeastern suburb, it was only a matter of minutes before they were covered by the shadow of the office complex where the heliplane was located.
They surrounded it and found with relief that the Falconer was still where they had left it: the place had not been frequented by patrols.
Burton approached the aircraft and had barely grazed it when the rotors of a large group of dragonflies echoed ominously to the west, sending shivers down the spines of more than one agent. They heard them drifting slowly away.
“Let's go now,” Cam muttered.
Burton opened the door, and the others followed.
“Do you see anyone?” whispered Frances, peering through the window.
“No. But we'll have to maneuver very carefully so the enemy ships don't spot us,” Gerard replied in a tired voice.
Cam took off the cap he had stolen and threw it casually over his shoulder. He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment.
“Go ahead, as low as you can, Burton. Frankie and Gerard, to the machine guns.”
“If they come at us, I'll pump them full of lead until they explode,” Frances promised with her hands on the controls and a half smile.
“That's good, Frankie. I feel safer now,” the captain joked.
The Falconer rolled slowly out of the parking lot. Its propellers were relatively quiet, like the subtle, soft hum of a hummingbird.
They lifted off vertically, so lightly that they barely felt they left the ground. They moved slowly north, sticking to the high walls of the office buildings, always in the shade.
They left the tall buildings. There were still a few blocks to go, and then it was pure open land.
And again, came the angry grunts of the dragonflies, those of a much larger and heavier cargo model. More than growling, they seemed to roar as a wounded tiger would, even sounding slightly watery.
A glowing thread emerged from them.
They saw the glow before they heard the explosion and felt the shock of the blast wave.
The landscape lit up with one fireball after another, devouring at least three buildings of no less than ten stories.
“Shit, I think they saw us,” Burton muttered.
“Forget discretion, get us out of here now!” cried the captain, staring into the fire.
As soon as the pilot recovered from the shock, he pressed several buttons on the dashboard, then grabbed the wheel.
The ship lurched forward, jerking from nose to tail, and Cam fell to the ground.
Dragonflies circled behind them—vultures looking for their hummingbird.
They took off at full speed, zigzagging a bit.
Two more blasts echoed behind them, and soon two raging fires consumed the central part of the city.
The Falconer crew watched in horror as one of the giant dragonflies released a missile near the area where the others had struck.
“Thet didn’t see us… They're destroying the city! They're crazy!” Burton sobbed.
Gerard watched the flames, stunned.
“I thought they were just going to destroy some government buildings. Why…?” He covered his mouth.
“Either the spy lied to us or Wilker changed his mind,” Frances tapped a side panel. “At least there are no civilians on the streets…”
Cam looked out of the corner of his eye, hunched over, refusing to give in to the tragedy:
“Burton, focus on getting us to Alamogordo,” he ordered, his voice low and hoarse. “We'll be back, they'll pay for this.”
“Cam,” Frances whispered, “can I call my parents on the Falconer's communicator?”
He sighed slowly.
“I think it's a good time for all of us to call our loved ones.”
They had left their PCCs in the alley, so they waited their turn in silence.
The city began to blur behind the sandstorms. The last thing they could distinguish from it were the flares, scattered in dozens of dots, like candles in the distance on a foggy night.
Their destination was not far from the capital. It was an ordinary small town that had never been the target of the Society's previous attacks. The regional military base was a few kilometers behind the town, very discreet and well equipped. Almost all its inhabitants had been called up to participate in the major battles. It was much more likely that the surviving soldiers had returned there, as it was safer than going west, given it was unlikely to threaten Wilker's plans, and it was close to the eastern neighboring country of Cephor.
Outside the Falconer, the blizzards were dissipating, leaving only a gentle current that seemed to be singing an ancient, almost imperceptible tune with its wailing. Gerard listened to it in silence, and for a moment thought he had heard it before, many times. But he couldn't remember where or when, only that it was familiar. He felt nostalgic without knowing why.
Twenty minutes later, Burton spotted the lights of the Alamogordo base airport.
Cam came on the communicator and his deep, clean voice broke the complete silence that had prevailed the entire trip. They were cleared to land after a brief interview—which they would no doubt send to Ponce immediately. They seemed surprised to find the DOB's Fifth Squad alive and well.
They descended gently and rolled over a dirt esplanade to the right.
When they came out, some soldiers were already waiting for them. They saluted and dared to smile only until Cam signaled them to rest. They were burning with curiosity to meet a DOB squad, all of them infantry NCOs, but they knew how to hide it with their calmness. Soon the sergeant of the group began to describe the whole place to them.
“This is the main runway,” he pointed out the directions with pride and vigor, “sixty meters wide and just over eighteen hundred long. Then the other is at the west end, perpendicular to the first, and runs all the way to our storage hangars. Oh, and over there is the city,” he pointed to a skyline full of lights. “It lost a lot of people during the wars, but now it's stable and well-kept; quiet, warm, has modern architecture and it's practical. Maybe the wars have taken away some of its hospitality, but that's normal. What matters is that it is safe and prosperous.”
The place smelled of herbs, especially the flowers of the mesquite trees—there were many of them. They wished they had time to appreciate these details more, but not tonight.
“Good evening,” greeted a newly arrived soldier, straight as a tree. “I'm Smith, First Lieutenant. I understand you've come from the capital on behalf of General Ness and need to speak with our commanding officer.”
The sergeant dared not chat any further and respectfully stepped aside. Cam was relieved, because he was about to cut the tour short himself.
“Exactly. In addition to our report, we have orders for Lieutenant General Ponce. I assume you know who we are.”
The lieutenant looked at the four visitors from head to toe with more disgust than curiosity.
“Any reason to be dressed like that, sir?” he pointed at their stolen uniforms.
“Oh, this.” He put his arms on his hips. “We used them as camouflage in the capital and didn't have time to change. I'm afraid we left our suits behind.”
“Yeah, well,” the lieutenant muttered, a little annoyed at Cam's eccentricity. “I'll have them bring you some clothes.”
Burton took a step forward.
“We need to fill the tank of our vehicle. Could you help us? Please.”
“Sure.” He blurted out. “Let's go, ladies and gentlemen!… Not you, you are escorting the Fifth Squad.”
The sergeant and one of his corporals hurried to show the way to the Command Center, a broad building about five stories high, warm gray in color, with many small windows. The Cinian tricolor flew in front of it.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
They walked through a glass door with the Army Hawk on it into a waiting room with pale yellow walls filled with paintings, photographs, and a few stuffed animals.
“Her office is at the end of the right corridor, last door on the left. Good luck, I'll be here,” the sergeant said.
The Squad nodded and went immediately. The door was dark wood, elegant. Cam knocked twice.
“Go ahead.” They recognized her voice immediately: intelligent, authoritative, unchanging.
He opened the door, and they all went inside. They found themselves in a small, well-organized office. The walls were reddish, upholstered halfway up, with wood paneling and moldings underneath. A huge retractable screen hung from the right wall at chest height, and two massive monitors filled half of her wide, elaborate desk. Ponce didn't skimp on having a prepared and capable space! Still, there was room for the old details: two plants adorned the corners by the door, and a handmade rifle hung high above a table in the back.
Lieutenant General Ponce sat behind her desk, staring at her computer monitor without emotion, concentrating. Her navy-blue uniform was immaculate.
“What does he want to do?” she asked dryly, without giving them time to greet her.
“Not even a ‘How are you?’ Cam joked. Well, it's good to see you again, General. And no Lieutenant before that. Congratulations, you got promoted!”
“I understand. So, Arthur Ness wants me to replace him. I've been preparing for this.” She tapped on one of her screens. “Air Control has given me all the information you gave them. You're coming to relay his orders to me.”
“Exactly…” he replied, although he noticed that she had not asked any questions. “Is something wrong?”
She finally took her eyes off the monitor and inspected them all carefully.
“This whole situation could have been avoided if he had put more effort into investigating the Society. We could have acted sooner and better.”
“Yes, we know now that you were right,” Frances admitted. “But in Art's defense, he knew nothing of Wilker's plans or resources.”
“But there were those who always suspected a ruse, a deception, like me. We kept telling him what we thought, we kept providing witness accounts, but it was not enough: the Society remained a peripheral threat in his eyes.”
Gerard felt it was time to deliver the report and help her calm down. It seemed to him that she resented the general for not listening to her. She must have felt responsible for what happened in the capital; she wasn't, but she certainly felt she could have done more.
“General, if you allow us, we will submit our reports: Sarzo's, the state of the capital, and the general's report. You will surely understand some new and important things after hearing the details. We need you to be at your best to carry out the tasks General Ness has given you.”
Cam looked pleased at his partner and nodded.
“In addition, my NCO will be responsible for putting all this information on a memory device for future reference.”
Burton nodded without concern.
The general watched them with a frown, but with understanding.
“All right. I look forward to hearing all about it. Go ahead.”
Cam elbowed Gerard gently. How many times had he had to explain something related to the Society in the last two days? He was becoming an expert.
He told her, as briefly as he could, about Sarzo's labs and its experiments; about the advanced technology, the dogs, the prison transfer operation, and the Ultimate Project as Johannes Abendroth had explained to them—and with it the unexpected help of a Cephorian spy. And this was the difficult part, but he continued with the utmost technical precision. He explained the true nature of Dragon, Chimera, and Phoenix; the history of the Robsonian Chronicles and the Society's involvement in them; and how Scott Wilker served, as she suspected, as an intermediary, something most of his own followers were unaware of.
Ponce listened intently, her brow furrowed, and her eyes fixed on her hands. Then came the interruption.
“Stop right there,” she almost growled, “Do you really expect me to believe all this?”
“I'm not making it up,” he replied cautiously, “it's just the way Art told us.”
“Yeah, it sounds crazy,” Cam agreed strongly, “I don't believe it either… much. But those were his words, and he believes it… And before you ask, yes, we made sure he wasn't delusional.”
Ponce leaned over her desk, twisting her fingers as she thought.
“I find it impossible to believe that he was in his right mind when he told you all that and gave you that order. He basically says that he avoided the subject of the mysterious leader of the Society because he thinks it's some kind of monster and he didn't want to sound like a madman. Well, he's right: it does sound ridiculous. In the end, whether he was delusional or not, there was a real fear that kept him from accepting that the guerrillas could get out of control, and here we are.”
Her eyes, dark and focused, softened a little, almost imperceptibly.
“Changing the subject, I can't believe you snuck into the prison to talk to him and came out… almost intact,” her eyes darted between Cam's bandaged head, his fingers, and the bloodstain on Frances' right arm, “even with the help of that mysterious spy. And the amount of information you have gathered in just two days is considerable. At least the general wasn't wrong about this: you are very capable at your job, Fifth Discreet Operations Squad.”
“Thank you! Although we got these before, in Sarzo,” Frances smiled.
“It was as much luck as skill, in my opinion,” Cam said modestly.
“I see. Now back to Arthur and his orders.”
“He believes we have a chance to retake the city if we gather all the surviving soldiers, and he also wants to add Kennéhsian active-duty soldiers.”
“The Kennéhsians? He had asked for their help before, and they ignored him,” she said angrily.
“He wants you to contact Kennéh again and ask them for an explanation.”
“He seems to have some doubts about what happened to them,” Gerard interjected. “And so do I.”
Ponce thought for a few seconds.
“Good.” What else?
“He wants you to organize a team to gather information about the enemy's plans, even though the Cephoren has already taken charge. You should do it anyway: he could be lying, and it's always better to be safe than sorry, right?”
“Right,” she nodded vigorously, “is that all?”
“For you, yes. I hope you don't mind that we can't stay, but we have our own mission.”
She wrinkled his forehead again.
“Does Arthur want you to find this ‘Chimera’?”
Cam nodded slowly—Hell! She didn't miss anything.
“As I told you,” She continued, “I am impressed with your investigative skills. Surely, if this Chimera existed, you could find it. But should I trust him? I've already told you what I think of this madness.”
“We know,” Gerard agreed. “But this is our mission. And I personally am inclined to believe him.”
Ponce knew the general well enough to know that he was not a gullible or frivolous man. As absurd as it all sounded, she resigned herself to giving them their chance.
“If you don't find anything, come back as soon as possible. We will certainly need all available DOBs,” she looked away ruefully. “Did you find out anything about DOB agents in Diablo Two?”
That sounded damned ominous. They shook their heads in anticipation.
“Four of the squads were outside the capital, including you, along with eight of the recruits. But there were five on the base at the time of the attack, twenty agents plus twelve recruits. We know nothing of them yet.”
They exchanged looks of understanding.
“We didn't get a chance, sorry,” Cam apologized.
“It's too early to write them off,” Gerard explained, “especially the veteran agents.”
“Yes, they probably retreated in time,” Frances said, “or went into hiding.”
“Your optimism is welcome,” Ponce said. “Let's hope they show up soon, one way or another. Do you have anything else to say?”
“No, that's all,” Cam confirmed.
“In that case, let's get out of here. I'll leave you with your escorts. Tell them to take you to the guest room. Now, I assume your wounds are superficial, but a doctor will come to examine you anyway, so don't wander off.”
“I got it. Let's roll, guys.”
The four soldiers felt relieved now that Ponce had accepted the information. With her in charge of the army and tactical operations, they could leave without worry.
She left the office, motioned to the soldiers waiting at the reception desk and turned around.
“I will brief you before you leave.”
“Yes, General,” they all replied.
She continued her way to another office.
“This way,” the sergeant said. They followed him down the left corridor to the elevator. One floor up were several storage rooms and a room.
“You can rest here,” he said.
“Is anyone hungry?” the NCO asked cheerfully. “I don't mean to complain, but we haven't eaten all day.”
“And terribly so,” Frances said.
Cam raised an eyebrow: it was true, they had gone all day without food.
“I'll get you something from our kitchen,” the corporal offered kindly. Please wait.
“We will be very grateful,” Gerard replied.
The soldier saluted them and turned and left the room without saying another word.
“Incredible. If you hadn't mentioned that we hadn't eaten, I wouldn't have noticed,” Cam commented with one of his amused half-smiles.
Gerard dragged his gaze to the window.
“I guess our minds were too busy to think about other, more mundane things.”
“Really? I haven't been able to think of anything else since we left the capital,” Burton joked.
“Speaking of mundane stuff, I have to go to the bathroom.” Frances left almost in a hurry.
The corporal soon returned with a couple of black plastic bags: brown bread, cans of meat, a jar of peanut butter, and some bottles of water and soda.
“I'm sorry we don't have anything more nutritious, but the fruits and vegetables we had were distributed to the refugees we took in.”
“This is fine!”
Burton took one of the sodas, opened it, and drank half of it in one gulp. Then, with all the confidence in the world, he opened a can of beef and began to eat.
“Slow, you'll choke,” chided Frances, who decided to start with a loaf of bread and peanut butter.
“Did a lot of people come?” Gerard asked, holding a bottle of water.
“Not many, but the garrison on this base is small and we were not prepared to feed them. Almost all of them came from the capital, emergency evacuees with nowhere to go. There was a group that fled when the defense line fell, a group fit for combat. Some of my comrades didn't want to give them anything, you know? Because they thought they were cowards for abandoning the city instead of trying to defend it with the others. They had even been given some equipment and weapons.”
Cam snorted.
“Your colleagues are right about one thing: the city needed its people. Not only did they waste our resources, they abandoned their neighbors to their fate. But then again, would they have made a difference? It doesn't matter now: they can be glad they weren't captured with the others.”
Gerard watched Cam, intrigued, worried.
“Would you have liked them to stay?”
My notions of honor and loyalty to the homeland are very deep-rooted… I have to consider that they were just scared people doing what they thought was best. But still…
“Not all people are as good as you at overcoming their fears, Cam,” he said quietly. “And after all, they are what make up the nation, not the territory, right?”
Cam covered his eyes with his hand and couldn't help but laugh in a subtly sardonic tone.
“You think I'm good at swallowing my fears?”
“Of course, that's what makes you such an excellent captain.”
“Why are you laughing?” Frances grunted. “It's true.”
“All right, let's forget all that for now.” He gestured to the soldiers. “Take good care of these refugees.”
Both nodded quietly and one added:
“I'll get some clothes.”
The other accompanied him, and when they were alone, they ate quickly—they were hungrier than they had thought.
After the meal, they looked out of the window to enjoy the view. The sky had gone completely dark, leaving only the waning, glowing moon in sight.
“You know,” Burton said, a little worried. “My parents managed to get out of the capital in time to make it here, to Alamogordo, to my grandparents' house. But they lost contact with one of my uncles. Hopefully we'll have some time when we get back: I want to go with them.”
“Yeah,” Cam yawned, “I want to go with my mother, too. She went to Cephor and says she's going straight to Canada with her brothers. Heh, not my climate.”
“My family is in Clovis, as usual,” Frances said, “I swear no one there knew anything until I called them and told them what happened!”
“Wilker did a good job of keeping things quiet… until now,” Cam snorted.
“Gerard, what about you?” the girl asked.
He did not look away from the horizon as he answered.
“Most are safe in Kennéh, for now.”
“Most of them?”
“No, I'm sorry, I was thinking of something else. They are safe.”
“Mmh mmh,” he nodded, pleased and at ease.
The place was silent. If Ponce's soldiers were already on their way, their sounds were muffled by the walls of the building.
They agreed to leave at dawn, with enough time to resupply, check their maps and get a few hours’ sleep.
There was a knock at the door: the doctor, accompanied by a small, elegant cabinet on wheels. The man wasted no time and made his examination. He made a few stitches in Cam's temple, disinfected and re-bandaged his fingers and Frances' elbow. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed that she hadn't even bothered to take care of herself, and she shrugged, shaking off the criticism.
Then the corporal came in with a suitcase full of casual clothes, dull, washed-out garments that were worn when the uniform was not required. Cam and Frances were not amused—it was not their style. Nevertheless, they gratefully accepted them.
It was done, and his two servants left together.
“At least we don't have to ask for winter clothes, right? We have plenty of those at the Falconer,” Burton commented, eyeing the cotton shirts.
“Yeah, but it's summer,” Cam said, “I don't think it's that cold.”
“Norway, wow,” Frances exclaimed. “Where is that mountain?”
Cam put the PCC's small projector on the wall and showed her the map.
“Oelfjellet, this is it,” he pointed to one of several peaks.
“Nice.”
“It is part of the Saltfjellet mountain range. You know, according to the archives, there used to be huge glaciers in this area, the Svartisen glaciers. ‘Near the canyon left by the glaciers,’ “ he quoted the general.
“I should try to learn something about this place before I go to sleep,” Gerard muttered. He had removed the PCC from his arm to be able to manipulate it better, to prepare the report.
“Don't even think about it! You're as dead tired as the rest of us… Come on, you can do that on the road.”
“According to my calculations, it will take us about eight hours to get there,” Burton mumbled through a yawn.
“That's it. I'll take the report to Ponce and I'll be right back,” Gerard got up and left quietly.
“Come on,” Cam agreed. “Then let's go to sleep.”
They went to bed as soon as they had a quick shower.
Gerard came back yawning a few minutes later and, after washing up, sat down near the tall, narrow window, with his back to the wall and his book in his hands, his gaze far away, deep in thought.
Cam watched him from the other side, out of the corner of his eye.
“Stop it,” he whispered.
Her voice brought him out of his trance, and he nodded silently. He rose and sat down on the empty bed, staring at the sky beyond the window.
The silence returned to lull him to sleep as his thoughts became increasingly vague and undefined.
All in all, it would be a quiet night.