Leaning back into the soft, plastic chair with the air conditioner right behind him and a full plate in front of him, Thomel couldn’t help but smile.
His sense of taste and smell had returned; the last vestiges of whatever drugs had been injected into him after his first mission had fully passed through his system last week.
Thankfully, he didn’t realise this thanks to eating nutrient paste but rather from digging into one of the freshly-caught little birds that scampered around everywhere.
Being able to taste again, and having that taste actually be good, was such a rare blessing in a place like this.
He’d never been much of a foodie, but meal times had quickly grown on him, as had a fair bit of fat.
Jabbing his fork into the small breast, he cut a chunk off with all the grace he could muster in his ravenous state and shoved it into his mouth.
The brothy sauce coating it dissolved on his tongue and the tangy taste became replaced by rich, flavourful meat. Contrary to their appearance, the birds were actually quite tough, and the meat was rather stringy.
If cooked poorly, it could become a chore to eat since the flavour could quickly disappear, not that he would complain. In this case, whoever had cooked it had made sure to roast the meat beforehand, giving it a rich, smoky taste that just never ran out no matter how much he chewed.
There was a side of genetically engineered super peas beside it, which, while less appetising, were still quite well done.
Normally they were just horribly bitter, but whoever had worked on them must have boiled them a lot since they were just sour rather than gag-inducing.
All in all, it tasted simply divine. The people in charge of chef duty today had truly done an amazing job.
He scarfed the whole lunch down in just under two minutes, then he looked over at Cale.
The gaunt man was gently slicing off thin layers from the bird and adding them together with bits of pea with careful, analytical precision.
It was like he was a mechanic at work, deliberately combining and repairing some device with unparalleled attention.
“When do you think the others will be back?” Thomel broached.
“I find it implausible they’ll be back at all.” Cale answered, turning to face Thomel while he slid a small, bite-sized conglomerate of pea and bird into his mouth.
“Wha-”
“I don’t believe they’re deceased, I just consider them being returned when they’ve proven themselves valuable to be rather low. I’m certain we’ll encounter them back on Earth once this mission is resolved.” Cale spoke, drawing out each word to make sure he wouldn’t be misunderstood again.
“And when do you think we’ll be back?” Thomel asked after some delay.
“I suspect in about a month. In terms of compensation, this has been quite below the normal threshold, but the experience, both for the system and for us, may compensate for that.”
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“So you think in a month this will all be over? Bit optimistic. I mean a single aggarten took thirty of us with it and there’s what, five of them left?”
“Correct, and each one has died faster than its predecessor. The Screens have been decreased enormously by our efforts, the ogre population has lost more than seventy-percent of its original numbers. Wood elves are only as good as the average ogre in combat and their leadership, while impressive, is wasted on the inept. And the gathenal, while still numerous, have been steadily purged by the firebombing campaign. In another month this forest will have been reduced to ashes and the remaining screens annihilated or rendered null to the overall conclusion, which is our success.”
“And what if they call for reinforcements? We’ve gone from fighting just a few brutes, to an organised horde of them. Followed by those dryad-like abominations and elves, now the ogres have some new boon or gift and we’re running out of numbers.”
“The exact number fluctuates, but we should have, at a minimum, two hundred individuals who can be called on just from the hunter pool. That’s not including all the private security forces that could be brought over if the situation deteriorates further. Maxwell could presumably persuade armour to be deployed, should it be required.”
“The mining corporation? Aren’t they just some local corp? Some explosives sure, but I don’t see any armoured units or mechanised troops being sent over to support us for this mess. ”
“They are the local and reigning corporation for the mining industry in Utah. Natural mineral resources have been heavily depleted there. Less mineral wealth equals fewer tanks and aircraft for the military dictatorship. Bringing them in would cost political capital which justifies why we’re here, but should it come down to it, actual military forces will secure this entire region. Now I’d appreciate it if I was allowed to eat before my meal becomes cold.” Cale said curtly, clearly bored of the conversation.
Thomel lifted his hands up in mock surrender while Cale got back to his food, eating it like an aristocrat of old.
He looked around the canteen, taking in the sorry sights of his teammates in varying states of distress. Most of them were eating the food robotically, with hollow eyes.
Thomel only knew a handful of the people here. When he first arrived, he’d tried to learn everyone's name, and after the first week, he felt like he’d made a few new friends.
When just about everyone died in that fatal assault, he gave up on learning anyone else's. Nax had been stationed as a scout just like Thomel, and his group had been as well. Now that he was dead, that meant the number of people who survived the assault could be counted on two hands.
Each day, he would notice a new face and an absent figure. Cale might be right about their victory being all but assured, but that didn’t take into account whether they would be alive to see it.
Volly had actually lost an arm here and would have lost her head if it wasn’t for a lucky sniper shot.
What really concerned him about it was that no more than a day after getting her arm reattached, she reentered the fray. Cale was a reservoir of endless logic, and she was an active volcano, always making rash decisions.
The only normal ones were Marace and Axel. He could understand those two, at least somewhat.
“Finish up, we got a job for you lot!” A stern voice yelled out from across the room.
Striding into the room, a hulking guard clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.
“There’s been an attack on mining base two. An aggarten has been confirmed to be spearheading the raid and it’s suspected there is another in reserve. You all will be relegated to screen the area and delay any reinforcements while we relieve the defenders and deal with the front. You have a minute to finish eating while we get the gear ready, then join us in the garage.” Message finished, she turned around and strode away.
Cale frowned slightly, then pushed his plate away.
“Not going to eat? You’re going to need it.” Thomel expressed, bewildered.
“I will not be uncouth.”
Thomel couldn’t help but shake his head in reply.
“The times don’t match.” Cale murmured, rubbing his cleanly-shaven chin.
Thomel was initially confused, but realisation quickly dawned on him.“For the aggarten?”
“Correct… hmm, we may be opposing three.”
“I liked it better when you were being optimistic. go back to talking about how we're going to win, please.”
“We are going to win the overall conflict, I remain uncertain about this battle though.”
Watching as everyone at the surrounding tables started to stand up and move towards the exit, Thomel let out a sigh and said a simple. “Well, we’ll find out.”