“Sir, it’s Legater Ackerg’s office.”
Station Riga’s manager exuded a heavy sigh as he set down a report from the Communication Department. A troubling read at that, but not one worth agonizing over.
“This ought to be good...”
“He’s requesting more information on the vaccine’s distribution site so that he might quell some of the public unrest.”
“Secure a spot at the front of the line you mean.”
The young staff member grimaced but didn’t offer any form of rebuttal. Instead he watched silently as the older man stood from his desk and came over to accept the call.
“Hold this job as long as I have and you’ll learn to translate all kinds of political blarney.”
The two proceeded into an adjoining room where another staff member could be seen smothering the receiver, acutely aware of the kind of comment their boss would make in response to such a hail.
“This is Eagen.”
“Philip, I’m glad to hear you’re alright! I’d gotten word that the situation around the arcade was becoming troublesome and couldn’t help but worry.”
“I suppose I have the swift intervention of your city’s police force to thank for that. Though the commotion outside is steadily growing louder by the hour.”
“Mmm, I trust that things are otherwise going according to schedule on your end? Convoys with Baugh’s name attached do tend to face significant hurdles.”
A loaded question on Legater Ackerg’s part as sharing the contents of a field report with third parties was in clear violation of Federation bylaws. And yet the fact he’d just nonchalantly named the visiting side implied others in the building felt less strongly on the matter.
“With such prudence on display it’s a small wonder you weren’t able to intercept the migration of those pesky birds. Certainly would have saved both of us a lot of trouble.”
The office staff witnessing this exchange betrayed near identical levels of panic at the station manager’s retort, though the malefactor himself didn’t seem overly concerned about his choice of words.
“Yes well, I’m afraid it’s proven rather difficult if not impossible to extend my reach into the animal kingdom.”
Believe it or not such a lighthearted response to what essentially amounted to an attack on the Legater’s character fell well within Eagen’s list of expected rebuttals. The product of working together for the better part of two and a half years now. But that working relationship was primed to come to an end thanks to the man’s delayed response to the current epidemic. Perhaps it was precisely because of this that they decided it was no longer necessary to keep with decorum befitting their stations.
“Now, if we could discuss the location that the convoy will be disembarking...”
“That’s odd, I’d have thought you’d be familiar with my workplace at this stage. Or perhaps my hospitality has left something to be desired and you’ve resolved to forget.”
A subdued chortle reached the station manager’s ears.
“Enough prattle old man, we both know that receiving the convoy at Riga is no longer possible. Unless you want to put both the station and field personnel at risk. Personally, I’m more worried about the fates of my misguided constituents. After all your field personnel will be taxed both physically and mentally when they arrive, and with such short fuses it’s not hard to imagine a scenario where an ill-advised throw or shove devolves into a small-scale massacre.”
“...as much as I’d love to take this opportunity to admonish the sorry excuse for a politician that you are, I can’t refute the chances of such an ugly occurrence with things progressing as they are.”
“You also seem to forget that the LCF relies on each individual city state’s infrastructure for the processing and distribution of its goods. Meaning you’ll require either my or the governor's help in coordinating any last-minute changes.”
“Such was our intent. Sorry to say we saw more upside in contacting the latter.”
“I’d figured as much, which is why I’m currently making this call from the lobby of the governor’s office. He should be calling me in for our meeting any moment now. So if you could be so kind as to inform me of the new receiving area, I’ll see to it that all the necessary adjustments are expedited.”
“You ask as if you haven’t already worked it out Ackerg. You also may have thought you were pulling a fast one by calling from the governor’s office, but in truth I’d half-assumed you’d be calling from the location itself by now.”
I’d been a good long while since Eagen was able to discern the sound of a frown over the phone.
“In the off chance the amphitheater's concessions are up and running, I recommend the caramel corn. You’ll need something to pass the time after all.”
*
“Oi, Esma.”
Youn called out to the brunette he was currently sharing the back deck with, having relocated after Lux took to the front. As to why he was choosing now to call out to the rookie with whom he had very little rapport, there were two reasons. The first being to settle her down as she’d been running amok the space for the better part of four minutes. And if she kept it up the girl would soon exhaust herself. The last thing they needed right now was another member of the security team becoming part of the cargo like Faust.
The second reason was much more mundane, being that Youn needed some advice on a subject unrelated to work. Or maybe insight was the more appropriate word? Then again there was nothing appropriate about approaching someone younger than him for something like this. At least he’d recalled someone mentioning she was younger. Outside of the present moment you be hard pressed to tell based on her usual demeanor and sound judgement.
“Got family?”
The interim security officer slowed her frenzied search for the group from earlier to catch her breath and better process the sudden inquiry. Rather ashamedly her subconscious had produced something along the lines of ‘Yeah, who doesn’t...?’ before recalling a case study on Federation recruits. More specifically the staggering number of which who came from broken homes or directly off the street. There was also a strong chance he was alluding to the presence of an actual familial bond, not solely blood relation. Fortunately that same subconscious had to pass through a series of meticulously placed filters before manifesting its voice in the real world. None more important than the filter labeled ‘empathy.’
“I do.”
“Ever visit any of their resting places?”
Indicative of Esma’s returning senses was the fact she didn’t find this follow-up off-putting or unusual. Whether she was aware and appreciative of Youn’s attempt to calm her down or anticipated an eventual explanation was up for interpretation.
“My grandmother’s, at least once a year without fail.”
At this point in time that was the extent of what she’d be willing to divulge in terms of her home life, but it should’ve been more than enough to facilitate further dialogue without needless digging. Not that Youn would be interested in pursuing such a topic in the middle of an active raid attempt.
“I’m making plans to visit my father’s grave for the first time. Figure I should bring something to...I don’t know, reconcile. Any recommendations?”
Esma felt her growing urge to retreat into the turret bay subside as she processed his predicament. Maybe because she too found many of her own quandaries often stemmed from unfamiliarity more so than misplaced apprehensions.
“I suppose it could be viewed as customary to bring along flowers or some other form of offering, but don’t belittle the significance of just being there. I mean, what would you care about more if someone visited your grave? The act itself, or some overpriced weed?”
Youn smiled as he harassed a pair of party members trying to bridge the gap between their group and a developing approach. A bold move that may have placed too much reliance on the stubborn nature of the shadow they found themselves in.
“Not a flower girl I see.”
“What is this a wedding?”
Esma followed her senior’s example, having lost track of the raiders she’d been meant to mark.
“What do you bring to weddings?”
“Ask the bride and groom. They’re not dead so you have that luxury.”
“This is starting to feel like the set up to a long joke.”
“Feel free to insert some punchline drawing a comparison between the two.”
“I’m a bit envious of this coping mechanism you’ve developed.”
Esma lowered her rifle and looked over at Youn somewhat pathetically, the air about her shifting to that of a remorseful child.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up...”
Despite the sympathy the deck officer felt for the CO in that moment he couldn’t permit her to leave the deck and seek a source of remedy. While also being bad for optics, the more immediate issue was the impending raid operation now that the party had all but finished organizing its starting positions. He could tell this based on the anticipation presenting in some of the raider’s body language, along with the change in the pacing of the drums.
“Now is as good a time as any to find out rookie. We wouldn’t want that joke of ours to go unfinished.”
The brunette perked back up slightly. Enough to raise her rifle once more.
“You can bring it with you to your grave visit. Really knock that test audience dead.”
It would appear some of Esma’s filters still had room for improvement.
*
Much in line with Officer Sigurd’s hunch, Cloud Nine had completed the preparations for and commenced an operation that would serve as the crux of the party’s second visit. The plan; take advantage of one of the lesser-known flaws of the offset I-formation and by extension Convoy Commander Lautnor’s relative inexperience in the field.
Because in many ways this formation could be interpreted as taking a bulk of the decision making out of the hands of the CC since the offset Crusader’s movements were reactionary or in simpler terms, dependent on the actions of the approaches. The more strategically inclined would be quick to point out that this was a two-way street. Just as the approaches dictated the movement of the Crusader, the reverse was also true. Namely that the Crusader could dictate the actions of approaches. But even those astute enough to identify this flaw would have likely overlooked it for the simple reason that the ideal conditions for deploying such a formation were rare to come by. To the extent that any CC who chanced upon the reports from this day would balk at the incompetence of a colleague who failed to take advantage. Such was the level of scrutiny Convoy Commander’s faced on a regular basis. Something pro-raiding party’s often formed strategies around, much like the following.
Cloud Nine would start by creating the illusion it was focusing its forces on a single point in the convoy, in this case the lead Crusader’s right side. To help sell this illusion they’d approach from a point furthest from the offset Crusaders current position in the formation. And they’d do so with a healthy number of Demenageurs who up to this point had been used sparingly if at all.
As the main role of Demens in a raiding party was to load and transport raided cargo, their involvement would suggest the lead Crusader as the approach’s next target. In response to this apparent attack on its vanguard the offset Crusader would be left with no choice but to slide back across the formation to fulfill its obligation of providing relief. Then the second stage of the Cloud Nine’s plan could commence. A stage relying heavily on timing and coordination, both of which the LCF would be strapped for in the wake of the Eidol’s appearance and tenacity.
In conjunction with the mock approach advancing on the top right, a second approach would condense its numbers and close in from the left side of the lead Crusader, occupying the space that had just been vacated by the offset player. A maneuver made possible through the utilization of the talking drums which didn’t suffer from any of the same setbacks brought upon by the dark apparition.
Ideally a combination of the lowered visibility and a smooth transition into the relinquished space would give the secondary approach enough leeway to carry out a boarding, but both Hite and Matus knew that the deck officers in this convoy weren’t to be underestimated. Especially after their swift response to the first visit’s sneak attack from the tunnels. As such it was expected that they’d notice the feint sooner rather than later. But this would be of little consequence.
Because even if they did notice right away it would be too dangerous for the pilot of the Crusader to suddenly reverse course. As doing so would only expose the crew onboard to whiplash in both the figurative and literal sense. In other words, even if the crew onboard the offset Crusader did recognize the play, they wouldn’t be able to react to it immediately. Giving Cloud Nine the time it needed to establish a foothold on its target before they could.
It should be noted that the objective of this second visit was the successful raid of the single targeted Crusader, as the chances of carrying out successive raids on the second and third before the route narrowed again were slim to none. What’s more, weakening even only one of the Crusaders comprising the convoy would pay dividends when the final clash took place at the site of the last castle.
Such was the plan for the second visit, a skillful weaving of observations from the first and prearranged measures enacted in preparation for this incoming Galen Run. But that didn’t mean it was unchallengeable.
*
“Pull forward and take up C362’s previous position!”
Lautnor relayed the order to the pilot as Sumiye organized the security forces onboard from the bridge’s speaking tubes.
“Don’t expect the entire approach to break off its assault just because we disrupted their timing! Make sure we take advantage of our temporary strong side to ensure no raiders make it onto the platform! And remember, we’re not in a place where we can easily receive or request assistance!”
Confidant the crew would take the Head CO’s words to heart, the CC turned his attention to the response their pulling forward would yield from the approach they’d deduced as a feint. More precisely he listened for any obvious changes to the drumbeats as he had no visual of the other side of the convoy. Nor did he have a reliable way of contacting C362 to ask for one. They still needed to figure out the source of the interference after all, that and the unexplained darkness.
Taking both anomalies into account, Lautnor shuddered to think of the damage that could’ve been done if they’d failed to anticipate the attempt at manipulating the I-formation through bluffing approaches. Not that they were out of the woods just yet.
*
Matus and the rest of his escort took a second to process the report regarding the status of Dominique’s approach, listening intently for the difference in drum strokes while under fire from C274. And it was only after they’d confirmed the timely intervention of C471 that they pulled off and sought the edges of the critical distance.
“Now what?”
Now what indeed.
The LCF had taken on an impromptu tri-formation to erase the opening the Demenageurs had created. That being said, Matus didn’t believe they’d underestimated the opposing commander. Rather they’d forgotten to account for the counsel of his acting Head Communications Officer. This was something that could have been avoided had the Hussards been able to identify the CO in charge, but this person had clearly taken steps to remain under the raiding community's radar.
“We join Dominique and bombard C471.”
“Is it ok to leave C362 unchecked? Won’t they just come back around to offer support again?”
“Perhaps, but it’ll be risky for them to galivant around the formation with comms in its current state.”
“Why, it’s worked so far?”
“Before they had a set condition for precipitating movement as well as a means for sliding from one side of the convoy to the other, but now that the formation’s changed there’s no defined precedent for repositioning safely.”
“So their main concern is—”
“A collision, correct. Namely the possibility that two Crusaders will cross paths by accident.”
A concern of his as well if Matus was being honest. Because if a collision did occur the likelihood of the cargo escaping unscathed was slim at best.
“C471 it is then.”
“I’ll assume the gunner position, pass along the order to form up.”
“Yes sir!”
As his man relayed the command Matus thought more about their defunct strategy and how it might have helped more than it hurt them. After all the plan had always boiled down to approaching wherever the offset Crusader wasn’t. And while said approach had lost some of its momentum due to the quick thinking of the command Crusader, that same command Crusader was now subject to the approach and subsequent boarding of Cloud Nine with the aforementioned offset Crusader stranded on the opposite side of the convoy.
Matus’s new concern however was whether the CC and his counsel had thought further ahead in terms of actions to be taken in the event the command Crusader came under serious threat. A fail safe for lack of a better term.
The preparation of such things usually coming down to the CC’s respective leadership style. That’s not to say fail safes were more prevalent among those CC’s more inclined to paranoia, rather some simply preferred installing a ‘gameplan’ ahead of departure. He’d like to believe this wasn’t the case given the paltry amount of time afforded between summons and departure when it came to Galen Runs. But someone raw like Lautnor Dandridge could have made time if it meant securing a solid foundation to build off of in the field.
They’d know soon enough, Matus thought as the newly minted approach made the turn and finally got eyes on the developing assault. But that thought would prove to be his last for the foreseeable future as seemingly out of nowhere a violent tremor rocked his bike’s front wheel. The next thing he knew the front of his Marshall model buckled, the sudden deceleration enough to whip the party member over his steering column in a downward trajectory. The remnant of a whistle sliding underneath the cry of the drums as the man met the ground shortly thereafter.
*
“It would appear a drug recently developed by the Council of Health and Wellness has led to significant strides in the understanding and combating of a variety of pulmonary diseases, not unlike the one afflicting your mother at current.”
The clerk placed the document summarizing the medical journal onto the counter before rotating and sliding it over to the young man across from him.
“It’s ok, I believe you.”
Wash shuffled in his chair uncomfortably as he tried to figure out a way to word his question without putting a dent in the man’s uncharacteristically good mood.
“But how does this affect the availability of the antibiotic we need? Does it even?”
The bureaucrat reached for something on the desk behind him, the copy of a form by the looks of it.
“I was getting to that.”
He tapped the seal that had been stamped on the copy with his pointer finger.
“This is a copy of the new request I sent in on your behalf. It explains the circumstances of your mother’s condition and includes a letter of recommendation from the town’s physician.”
Wash would have swallowed if his throat weren’t so dry from work.
“A recommendation for what?”
“A recommendation that she take part in the first round of human trials for the new drug.”
Confusion and hints of exasperation presented themselves on the youth.
“But that antibiotic is a proven method for treating my mother’s illness. Why subject her to something with risk involved?!”
The clerk sighed and interlocked his tidy hands, making it a point to establish eye contact for what he was about to say next.
“Allow me to be blunt. As things stand the odds of having the initial request filled before the disease runs its course is zero. You need to remember that the LCF is a business, and it is hardly a sound business decision to spend resources shipping an antibiotic all the way out here for a single case.”
Wash felt like he was going to be sick. To have spent all that time clinging to what he believed was their only recourse, for it to be ripped away like that. But he didn’t have the luxury of breaking down right now.
“But they’ll gladly spend those same resources to deliver a drug that might not even work...?”
“That’s correct. Your mother’s age and how far along her disease has progressed make her a prime candidate in the Council collective mind. And if her trail proves to be a success the drug will be all but guaranteed a stamp of approval for continued funding.”
“Isn’t there any way they could send the antibiotic as well just in case?!”
The man lifted the document again and gestured toward a section near the bottom.
“If you’d direct your attention here, you’ll see that the drug and the antibiotic are not compatible. Rather taking one after ingesting the other would lead to detrimental consequences.”
Wash allowed his head to hang between his legs, his hands gripping the roots of his messy hair. It was from this doubled over position he found his voice again. Dejected and hoarse as it was.
“Could I talk to my mother about all this first...”
“I’m afraid this is a decision that needs to be made now in the interest of securing a spot in the trial. There’s also your mother’s rapid decline in health to account for.”
To think things would come to this. Forced to offer up the fragile life of the woman he treasured above all else in the world. But what choice did he have. Every second spent agonizing over the decision was one less second he could spend at her side reassuring her everything would work out somehow. At least one of them HAD to believe that. And so it was with a heavy heart the youth raised his head, the birthmark beneath his tired eyes more pronounced than ever.
“...we’ll do it.”