Over the next few days of isolation a strange thing happened. Little cliques formed, made up of people from multiple squads. That in itself wasn’t too strange. People would make friendships and connections given the chance to do so. What was strange was the growing divide between them.
Jamison, Dane, and Barten got along with most. While Smith usually spent his time with several others who almost seemed like a leadership faction. For Delta Squad 5 they never really discussed who the leader should have been. Smith was the most seasoned out of all of them. And he also naturally stepped into the leadership role. It was never something that they really questioned as everyone in the squad was fine with it.
But in Dane’s squad things had been different. “I don’t like it,” Dane said. “I said that I don’t like it.”
“We heard you the first time,” Barten said.
“I know. I just wanted to say it again. But Guntherson is the squad leader. We all voted to it. So why is he being all deferring to Young now? He used to have more oomph, you know what I’m saying? More pep, and get out and go. But now something isn’t right. You don't think that he’s sick do you? Got some of that alien mojo they warned us of?”
Over the past few days Jamieson got quieter for some reason. Barten often caught him looking across the common room one at one person or another. “How was Young before? What’s different with him now?” Jamieson asked.
“Uh,” Dane said and then glanced at the person in question. “I mean. Pretty much kept to himself is all. Didn’t really complain much. Did as he was told.”
“It seemed like to me he took charge when we were retreating from the battle,” Barten said.
“That’s just the thing. I thought that it was Guntherson’s idea at first. But the more that the two of them interact the less confident that was the case. It’s kind of almost like I'm imagining things. But it’s enough to get at me you know? Make me feel like something is off.”
Jamieson was playing with his terminal, another thing that had changed. It was possible to send messages to other terminals. But it was rarely used by Barten at least. The connections that he had made were all in the squad. That and Sergeant Myles. But he sort of seemed like a stick in the mud at times.
With his message sent Jamieson lowered his wrist and rubbed his temples. “We’ve only been here a few days. And yet it feels like it’s been a lot longer.”
“Oh I know what you mean. Standing by and all that is great for a little bit. But after a while it really starts to wear on you. I’d much rather like to be able to do something. Either move my body, or just veg with some tv or a game or something. You know what? Maybe they’ll give us a board game or 3? It would be good for team building and all that,” Dane said before he took off.
Barten watched him go and shook his head. “Is it just me? Or is he talking even more than usual?” Barten looked over to where Conners was sitting with Monroe but it appeared that they hadn’t heard him.
The two of them were close, closer than they had been before. Which was another thing that changed. Barten didn’t think that they saw one another that way at all. And Jamieson only shrugged when Barten asked him about it. Usually relationships in a squad or unit were kept rather discreet. But whatever changed between the two of them it seemed like they didn’t care for doing things for appearance sake.
“Conners, did you hear my question?” Barten asked.
Conners finally looked over to Barten. “What? Oh yeah. Dane is a good guy.”
“What do you see in him?” Monroe asked. Her hand snaked across the table and playfully touched Conners for a moment before pulling back.
“I don’t really know. That's just what I think. He’s one of those guys that seems annoying at first. But once you get used to it, he has a lot to say.”
And then they were gone, having already forgotten Barten, and were chatting amongst themselves. He looked at them for a moment more, shook his head, and decided that his time would be better spent doing anything else, and left the table. Did the combat shake them up that much? Both of them should have seen plenty before. And anything that they experienced in the davs should have been old hat to them. Except for the part about piloting a humanoid suit.
The other possibility is that they had been compromised somehow. Their bodies snatched by one of the type 4s. But without any confirmed cases, maybe their minds were just scrambled a little bit? An effect of being attacked by one of the type 4s? Or some other psychic attack? Barten did have 10 in Psychic resistance when he was attacked. And then it jumped a whopping 7 points. Which showed just how much damage such an attack did.
As he was walking towards the courtyard there was a shout and then someone started screaming, “Get out! Get out! Outoutoutoutoutout-” and on and on it went. There was a crowd around the person shouting such that Barten wasn’t able to make out who it was. A moment later the guards were pushing people away and someone in a lab coat was sprinting forwards.
Once enough people were out of the way Barten was able to see that the one shouting was Guntherson. His hands were raking at the sides of his head. And his scalp and fingers were bloody from where he injured himself. The doctor or orderly pressed a device to Guntherson’s neck and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Though he didn’t hit the floor as the two guards were there fast enough to grab him. Everyone’s head swiveled after them as Guntherson was dragged off.
Whatever jovial air there had been was lost. Everyone was sharing looks one another. Some looked like they were wondering just what the hell happened. Some had grim expressions. Either because they were like Barten and Jamieson, and knew that something was probably going to go wrong. Or because they had already been compromised.
Barten looked for Jamieson but found that he had already left the seat that he was just sitting in. He wanted someone to back him up in that room. To have someone on his side in case things got even worse. And lacking such a support made Barten feel naked in a room where everyone else was clothed. He slowly backed away, and made for the door to the courtyard.
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Once he was outside it was like night and day. The tension and pressure of the room faded away and was replaced with the peace of the outdoors. At least as much as one can find on an active military base. With people, dav suits, and choppers running around.
Barten found himself a nice seat in the shade and tried to get back into his Perception Meditation. But his mind was running on lightning and thunder. His thoughts came and left fast, while the doubts became louder and louder. All of the little things that he had noticed over the last few days were all replaying themselves in his head.
Conners and Monroe. How Conners wasn’t really swearing. How distant Smith was by spending time with the other new leaders. He noticed at times strange looks on the faces of members of other squads. How they looked at the person next to them with a wondering expression. Or a quizzical one. Or, very rarely, the hostility that Barten noticed at times.
Was it just because he had pushed his perception too high? Sometimes there was so much information coming in that Barten found it hard to concentrate. Was he just overthinking the small things that he was seeing? Was it all just chalked up to paranoia? Or were there really enemies in their midst?
There was another commotion that sounded out from inside. A clamor of voices with one loudly exclaiming, “You’re not him!” Barten sighed and washed his face with his hands. The one fact that he wanted to avoid was that he probably wasn’t imagining all of the little things. And that each and every one of them is true.
The voice of the person yelling was tinged with anger. But Barten was familiar enough to know who it was. Jamieson. He got to his feet and jogged towards the door inside. The guards that should have been posted by the doors were already inside. Trying to force their way through the mass of soldiers onlooking the argument.
When Barten finally forced his way through he found that Jamieson was standing there in the middle. Conners was at his side, holding him back. While Smith stood opposite, his arms crossed, and Young and several other leaders behind him.
“I keep telling you,” Smith said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on man. Tensions are high enough already,” Conners said as he pulled Jamieson back. “Best to let it go for now. Wait for everyone to cool their heads.”
Jamieson looked at Conners and shook his head. “Smith has been taken. That I know now for sure. He never would have laughed at someone not making it back. Not him. Not ever.” Jamieson took a deep breath.
“Look. I’m sorry that I did something to offend you. Young and I were just having a little joke you know? Blowing off some steam is all. We didn’t mean any harm at all. But it seems like we’ve done some harm to you.”
“No,” Jamieson shook his head. “You’ve done harm to Smith. To all those who have fallen. And you’ll do more if you are left alone. Do you even remember the conversation that we had before we fought the other day?” Jamieson pushed Conners away like he was pushing a child. He flipped his wrist around and started tapping at his terminal.
Smith looked at him for a moment. The smile on his face slowly faded away. And then he murmured something. It was low enough that most wouldn't have been able to hear it. But Barten was able to make it out. “Remember the fallen.”
What happened next came too fast for anyone to react to. Smith looked at Jamieson and then most of the people there staggered. Barten felt the psychic attack impact, but it was too weak and merely washed around him. Smith’s eyes widened as Jamieson stood there unaffected.
“I knew it,” Jamieson said. His body rippled. “You and all those around you have been taken. I don’t know if we can save you. But at least you will not wander around free any longer.” Jamieson clenched his hands into fists and stepped forward. After his first step Smith gave a look to Conners and then Jamieson was on the floor. Conners slapped the hat off of Jamieson’s hat and another psychic pulse from Smith had knocked him down.
An alarm that sounded similar to the active combat one went off on the base then. Several of the guards had been downed or staggered by the psychic pulse. While several were still standing and had already leveled their rifles at Smith and those behind him. “Get down on the ground! We will not hesitate-” Whatever they were about to say was cut short. Like with Jamieson, a soldier nearby knocked off the guards hats. And then Young and the others stepped forward.
The guards remaining standing all toppled to the ground as another pulse ripped through the common room. Barten looked around and found that he was the only one still standing. Smith nodded to him. “Change of plans. Since they have already found us we’ll cause what havoc we can here before retreating with their warriors and suits.”
“Wha-what do you mean? This was all planned?” Barten asked.
“Of course, it’s how we always… I wonder. -” Smith said a word that caused several images to assault Barten’s mind. He shook his head to get rid of them and found that Smith had a furious look on his face. “Those that are ascended must join or perish!”
Smith joined hands with Young and the ones behind them and Barten felt as if someone poured a load of hot coal into his head.
***
Barten awoke to find that he was laying on the ground. There was the smell of smoke and the sound of the alarm still blaring. Blood was leaking from his nose and he was feeling light headed. And he just about passed out when he stood up too fast.
Prone and, hopefully only unconscious, soldiers were everywhere. There was no sign of the fire, but it wouldn’t do to leave everyone inside. He quickly found Jamieson and discovered that he was still breathing. Barten felt the tension in his chest fade as relief washed over him. There was no telling what the enemy’s goal of infiltration was. But Barten wouldn’t let it go their way.
He lifted Jamieson from the ground, something that wouldn’t have been possible without the boosts to his strength. And brought him outside and into the courtyard. There was a billowing column of smoke. And from the location it appeared that they had torched the hangers.
Barten placed Jamieson down on the ground and rushed back inside. Yin was trying to stand and he raced to her side to help her up. She accepted his help only long enough to become stable. “I’m alrightish,” she said with a slight sway. “Just go.”
With one last glance at Yin, Baren returned to the task of evacuating the common room. Each person he found was still living, though unconscious. Some stirred when he lifted them up, while others were barely breathing.
Yin started helping and they finished soon enough. The courtyard reminded Barten of that gymnasium that he had woken up in all those years ago. He plopped down onto the ground. “Are you alright?” Yin asked.
“Just need a break is all,” Barten said. She looked at him for a moment and then nodded. And then Yin broke into a jog and ran deeper into the base.
Why would the possessed just leave them all behind like that? Several of the soldiers were bleeding from their nose like Barten had. Jamieson was even worse, and he was bleeding from his ears and eyes as well. Did they think that the damage that they had done was enough? Or maybe that whatever fire there was would finish them off?
An explosion sounded off somewhere on the base. The ground shook and little bits of debris skipped off the roofs and bounced through the courtyard. What should he do? Should he chase after Smith? Barten looked over the dozens of unconscious soldiers in front of him. Would they be safe?
Barten sighed as he got to his feet. And for the first time he used the terminal to send Myles a message about the wounded he was going to be leaving behind.