"From now until he decrees otherwise, I shall be the bridge in which words shall be ferried through. I will try my best to translate whilst honouring the meaning," the stoic priest says, passing a furtive glance from beneath her hood.
The brief flash of her eyes came with a hint of hesitation. This situation is obviously new to her as well, and certainly justifies her demeanour.
"Okay, just take it slow," I say, directing my attention back to the stoic General.
Acknowledging the cue, he begins with a deep voice, masked with power and authority. Just like before the language is smooth, characterized by soft vowels each almost flowing into the next without pause. In a way, it sounded elegant even with the coarse nature of the man's voice.
"Scholars of the... material and natural sciences, venturing forth onto our realm in pursuit of knowledge," Lunelle translates, her voice mirroring the General's own, "wrongfully slain in an unjust case of mistaken... identity and hasty judgement. Whilst a tragic outcome, they should have known better than to flock to danger—to this war."
I take note of her struggle over certain technical words as she works though the Lord General's lengthy reply. Despite the obvious flaws, it still is something I can work with. For what amounted to only a handful of days of learning, her level of proficiency is admirable.
"Agreed, the expedition team made poor decisions—basically bit off more than they could handle. That won't happen again," I return, sparing a glance at the two researchers.
Both stare at the ongoing exchange from their place at the bench, their postures straightening at the mention of their now defunct team—like petulant children caught doing something they shouldn’t.
Lunelle nods and pivots around to relay my answer. Both her and the General enter a debate as the escorting soldiers stand their ground. The harsh, red capes and striking bands on their armour moulded them into an intimidating sight. The psychological impact of their uniforms wasn't lost on me, and I make sure to mentally file that observation down.
I glance over each one, squinting both eyes to discern their identities with the help of the visor's photo adaptive overlay. Nothing but strangers in the crowd, but I am sure the instigators of the team's violent skirmish is somewhere inside this city. In the meantime, Robert takes out a small notepad and begins taking down his observations, scribbling through multiple pages across the next few minutes.
"What do you think they're saying?" The operative murmurs not faltering in his work.
"Could be anything—hopefully something good," I reply, attention fixed on the tense exchange between the pair.
The General then takes the lead over their discussion, bringing up his fingers to emphasize several points to the priest. She nods with every raised finger, listening intently with a tight expression while answering on occasion. Her expression changes as she glances to me.
"Lord General Thellius wishes to extend his regrets for the deaths of your scholars, but also suspects that such a loss may not dissuade them. So, he believes it prudent to discuss a place in which future gatherings between our sides can be safely held. The intrigue your kin harbour for our Kingdom is welcome, for it is mutual," she says.
"That depends," Robert interjects, prompting the priest to his direction, "we can't promise future cooperation or even another meeting."
"We expected as such," Lunelle swiftly returns before dipping to the folds of her robes.
"However," she continues and produces a small, compact tube with a lid on one end, "Lord General Thellius shall make the necessary arrangements. Within you shall find a regional map of our Kingdom's borders. There will be a marked city which, should you desire, will be where we may continue our affairs. We claim no quarrel with your kin, and so the door is open for your people to send an emissary."
I take the small tube from the priest and pass it over to my companion. "When?"
"It is up to you. Three days—ten, even a fortnight. The choice is yours, for we shall be waiting at your behest," she replies.
"Which definitely means us," another voice says behind.
I turn around to see Keller stand up from the bench. The former expedition lead walks over and swipes a hand over his forehead. "But then again, I think it's safe to say I'll be terminated for my role in the team's loss. I won't get to see how this plays out."
I shrug. "Cygnus Station's written your team off as a total loss. They're in the process of shipping all personal items back to Earth, definitely seems like you're off the hook."
Keller sighs, his voice now sombre. "I've already made peace with that. But I'm sure my colleagues would appreciate the invitation. It's been one of the division's premier goals ever since we've known there were indigenous civilizations on New Eden," the researcher explains.
"Then we have much to look forward to," Lunelle concludes and clasps both hands together, "again I must ask, how long should we expect?"
The question prompts Robert to open the small tube. He retrieves the map and unfurls it, reorienting the map clockwise before trailing a gloved finger across the surface to pinpoint our location.
"The map checks out, looks almost like the ones we've been issued," the operative states, turning on his helmet auxiliaries. The soft light reflects off the map surface, revealing a detailed rendition of the surrounding region complete with a coastline wrapped along the north and west.
The map in general is organized and readily intuitive, with all major landmarks clearly shown and marked under the local language. A well-defined border covers a large portion, shaded a lighter tone in contrast to the remaining territories which presumably belong to other nations. Several dozen major cities and towns dot the terrain, each one labelled with the same unique scripture—names if one had to take a guess.
"That's the place they're talking about," Robert moves his finger over to the left, lightly tapping at the city situated west of our position marked by a red circle.
"It's around forty klicks from where we're at," I reply, giving a rough estimate based off my assumptions of the map's scale, "we'll need air to get us to and from that city."
Robert hums and rolls the map back in the tube, flicking off his auxiliaries. "Recommend we play it safe—two weeks. Just in case the UN wants to fly in a trained representative," he proposes.
"Sounds good," I agree. A notice of two weeks should be sufficient for Cygnus to assemble the necessary resources, put together a qualified roster, and work out all other prior kinks before this next giant leap.
I turn to Lunelle and give the priest her answer. "Fourteen days, will that be okay?"
She perks up. "Fourteen?"
"Fourteen, no more, no less."
"Very well, let it be so." The priest, lightly grinning relays the answer to the General.
He nods in return and issues a brief comment at Lunelle before moving to stand in front of me, his hand extended.
I reach out and shake it firmly, feeling a strange sense of ease around him. After confirming the date and time for the potential meeting, and informing both researchers of the impromptu arrangement, we are soon escorted back to the eastern gate.
By the time we are out the city, most of the remaining escorts are dismissed leaving only the General, two soldiers, and the priest herself. The decision to step inside the city had been daunting but resulted in the best-case scenario. There is no further reason to recon the city after having our queries answered by Lunelle and having secured the survivors.
In just under an hour, the city had yielded valuable insight into this particular civilization, including most notably—what they referred themselves as and the name of their nation.
The term Euralia flows smoothly from the tongue and clearly seems inspired by the main language stated to the lingua franca of this region. Robert groups both researchers together and urges them forward while I express my gratitude to both Lunelle and Lord General Thellius for the seamless encounter and opportunity to uncover the secrets of their culture on behalf of the United Nations.
One of the sentries outside the gate rises from his station. The armed soldier straightens his posture and issues their rendition of a salute, raising a fist and crossing it over his plated chest with an audible thump. Lord General Thellius returns the decorum with a similar gesture and instructs the soldier to return back to his post.
The sentry nods, briefly glancing my way as he steps aside to resume his watch, planting the blunt end of his spear on the ground.
"Kal'Lenna shall be ready for your arrival, and if fate wills it, I shall be there as well," Lunelle reiterates and offers her hand.
Even with her assurance, I still felt unsure about the whole arrangement. It seems impossible to shake off this feeling when the supposed UN detachment would be over three hundred miles away from Tartarus without any means of reliable communications in the event of an emergency.
I shake her hand and decide to put out one last question. "You've already made it clear that you're not part of the military, so what do you fall under?"
She purses her lips and slips her hand away. "Simply an informant of Euralia's fringe eastern consular body. I am their eyes and ears in affairs worthy of their intrigue. That is all I will offer," she counters, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Understood. If that's all, we'll be going now," I conclude, deciding against pursuing the topic further.
She returns a slight nod. "Very well—may the Iron Lady grant you all safe travels," Lunelle finishes with a fair tone, pivoting around to head back inside the city. Again, with that name—another reference to what I assume is a religion of sorts.
After politely refusing an armed escort from the General and making it clear that we are not to be followed, I signal everyone to move out. We proceed down the road with the researchers and stop a kilometre out from the city.
"We're set," Douglas announces after conducting a headcount then points to the researchers, "but those two need to be briefed on egress."
"I'll handle it," I volunteer, rifling through my front utilities pouch to pull out a regional map of New Eden.
"Keller—Torrez, listen up. I'll get you both up to speed on what's going to happen," I call out to both researchers.
Both of them straighten up upon the announcement and quickly move closer.
Unfurling the map, I quickly focus on the borders of Grid A15. There, marked with a red dot near the top left is the city—and by extension, our current location.
"Ideally, we head directly south to hit the adjacent grid A10. That's where the nearest exfil zone's located. It's an elevated piece of land—probably an extinct volcano based on the initial survey. Once we reach it, we'll hunker down and establish contact with command. Tartarus fleet's mostly grounded so they should be able to spare something to get us. But before all that, there's good news and bad news."
"Wha—what's the good news?" Torrez asks with a timid voice.
I let a few seconds pass before answering. "Like I said, we'll be rucking directly southwards to minimize travel time, but that's assuming traversable terrain from here till exfil. It should take around three days of travel, plus a few hours to wait for our ride."
"Bad news?" Keller asks with a fearful tone.
"You guys are tired, but we need to burn through the first night to put as much distance between us and the fighting. We know they don't tend to move their forces at night so this our best shot at avoiding the locals while we're in this grid," I say.
"Might be looking at four days. Give them some slack—rather we play it safe," Douglas interjects, scrutinizing the pair through his visor.
"We're fi—" Keller quickly retorts before cutting himself off. After taking a deep breath and glancing over to Torrez, the man issues a nod and drops his protest.
"As long as we get back home, doesn't matter," Torrez trails off, her bleak eyes staring off into the distance.
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James steps in and snaps his fingers in front of both researchers.
'Corporal James Oakley—team medic, if you have any issues or need assistance hit it up with me and I'll see what I can do. Especially you Ma'am. It's a tough haul—around fifty kilometres," he says with a finger raised at Torrez.
"I'm fine, just shaken up that's all. Good to go," Torrez answers and reassures the operative with a weak smile.
After adjusting the rifle sling for a secure grip around my chest, I observe both ends of the road for signs of life. Past the first hundred metres, the road vanishes into a wall of darkness. There is nothing—no movement, no contact.
I exhale and make a short gesture to prompt the team into a wedge before turning into the foliage. "All clear, let's go."
The vegetation stretches around in all directions as I enter the thicket—just as dense and humid as I remembered. My legs sink into the thick mesh of undergrowth and with each stride comes the unavoidable sound of rustling.
Over the last few days, the team had encountered rivers, crevices, and other such impassable features. Most of them necessitated detours resulting in significant delays as we went around, or in the case of two rivers, swam across their narrowest points.
As much as I'd hope that our journey would be simple, I know that likely will not be the case. The latest maps issued by Cygnus still had their flaws in describing the topography of the forested regions in finer details, particularly in places with dense coverage which amounted to over two thirds of this particular grid. There is bound to be some discoveries along the way.
Another glance behind shows the two researchers keeping pace as we trudge deeper into the thicket. They keep up reasonably well for the first hour, but as the hours progress, that gap stretches. At first, it is just a handful of metres. Then ten. Twenty. I glance over my shoulder. Keller and Torrez are still there, but barely visible through the darkness. I could just make out the contours of their legs and arms past the clutter of greenery.
The forest past midnight is an oppressive force in itself—a constant jumble of sinuous limbs and towering trunks. And with visibility limited to just two dozen metres, their pacing becomes a cause for speculation.
While the hike is physically demanding, I had no issues with it even with the added weight of my rucksack which amounted to over fifteen kilograms. A good portion of the team's free time while not on active deployment was filled with weighted marches and gruelling exercises aimed at conditioning our physique for just such a venture.
We have been rucking for over three hours and I could say with confidence that each of us had the steam to continue the grind for at least twice that amount of time.
It is then I realize the issue. All this time, I had been subconsciously applying our physical standards to the struggling pair. Keller and Torrez obviously did not possess the same level of conditioning and general fitness, and I doubt either of them had any sort of formal military training to begin with. I should have been aware of their deficits long ago.
Holding up a clenched fist, I get the team to stop and turn around. The researchers were vague bipeds barely discernible through the dark veil. Only the sounds of shuffling and desperate panting gave away their identity and struggle.
"We—we need a..." Keller groans. He slumps forward, taking in deep breaths with both knees supporting his hands.
"We got you, in the meantime," I unclip the canteen from my rig and hold it over Keller's left shoulder, "finish the rest. Kill that thirst and replace those electrolytes."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," the researcher murmurs, grabbing the canteen and quickly uncapping the lid to take a swig of the synthetic electrolyte blend.
"Make sure to leave some for Torrez," I add before turning around to face the team.
After going through the impromptu discussion and taking reference from our map, we all agree to take multiple detours that seem easier to physically navigate for the benefit of the researchers. At the same time, we make it standard practice to follow their pacing instead of the other way around.
With the team still opting to maintain light discipline and the researchers themselves setting the tempo of our advance, that meant a painfully slow crawl towards our destination. A fast and timely journey to our exfil seems impossible at this point.
We would have to stick with this speed, at least until the next morning when we could at least see where we're stepping. And so, we did for the next five hours.
The sun's dull glow finally cuts through the canopy in tattered beams, casting the forest in a monotony of amber and gold. A quick glance at my watch tells me it is just past ten—local Eden time.
We begin rucking ahead twice as fast taking the occasional break when it is requested by either Torrez or Keller, though it was mostly the former that spoke out.
The first day passes without much to note. We make good timing while the sun is up, taking the necessary detours across various obstructions along our predetermined route to exfil.
Those are nothing we could not handle. A handful of sharp inclines and declines, an entrance to an undiscovered cave system, and even a sizable herd of stout ungulates that I recognize from my brief studies into New Eden's fauna.
As night approaches, we agree to set up camp and deploy our inflatable shelter. With a sharp wheeze the two miniaturized habitation modules fill up to their proper size and shape in under a minute.
The mild buzzing of the control panel on the entrance of both habitats further confirms that the process is complete. Each one has the capacity to accommodate two men with a potential third if the occupants didn't mind a tight squeeze.
I instruct the team to take our usual approach for night watch. Douglas and I take the first shift and position ourselves on opposite ends of the camp. Dropping to the ground with a soft thud, I brace my rifle under me and clear the space ahead with a finger latched onto the thin face of the trigger.
The oppressive darkness draws me in, filling me with a sense of unease. It is an impenetrable bulwark that has the potential to hide any number of aggressors. Any disturbance, no matter how trivial demanded investigation, because anything less is tantamount to dereliction. I fully intend to hold onto this dictum throughout the night, no matter how exhausted I become.
A pair of heavy footsteps echoes behind prompting me to glance at my watch. Two hours have largely passed unnoticed as I went through the motions.
"Anything?" Robert asks.
I push myself back up and shake my head. "Nothing but stay sharp."
After giving my replacement an encouraging pat on his shoulder, I retreat back inside the camp for a temporary reprieve. In two hours, I will back out there keeping tabs on the perimeter.
Through all this, the researchers had the luxury of sleeping the next eight hours away. They will need all the rest they can get for the slog ahead. They are doing well so far, but this is just the beginning of a long, painful grind.
======
After three hard days, we are finally on the final stretch of the journey. Everyone is exhausted, but the prospect of a clean bed and shower keeps us working past our limits. Fire burned in my legs and shoulders. Each step reminded me of the toll the hike had on my body.
"We're close," Douglas announces, fatigue tacked on his voice, "maybe five more klicks till we hit the edge of that elevated clearing."
"Got that drone ready?" I glance to Robert. The operative pulls out a small quadcopter drone from his rig in response.
"Standing by, once topside's clear I'll have it up to comms altitude," he reports, showing the drone resting on the palm of his hand.
"Great," I say.
Just ahead the trees begin to thin out considerably. Beneath, the ground transitions from a dense mesh to a clean stretch of green as it gently slopes upwards. The canopy pulls back to reveal several clouds drifting across the clear, infinite blue. The sun beats down with a harsh glare, enough to turn the air inside my helmet into a dense, stuffy haze. The only saving grace is a cool breeze coming in from one direction.
"Just keep at it, we're almost there," James urges the two researchers as they panted, their skin and clothing damp from four days of exertion and exposure to the elements.
"I'm... signing those papers once we get back," Torrez huffs after a crude chuckle, "I'm so... through with this job."
"You and me both," Keller adds, his voice equally bitter.
"Just focus on that—helps take some of that edge away," James urges the pair.
They are operating on fumes, but the operative's remark brings out their second wind as they shrug off their grievances and push on, fighting their way up the slope with the last of their reserves.
I estimate the angle to be around fifteen degrees, but after all we've been through, even just this much feels like scaling the side of a steep ridge.
Each breath always feels short of addressing the dense burn in my lungs. My shoulders ached with a painful throb, the straps biting into the muscles with a ferocity amplified by the harsh incline.
Douglas and James trot past the formation to scout out the large clearing once the ground levels off. The sound of gunfire pierces the stillness as I lead the rest over the subtle incline.
"Contact—a small herd of those silvertips," Douglas reports over comms as another burst thunders through the channel.
Wild shrieks shoot back as a handful of dark shapes take off past a short ridge where the two operatives have fired into. They had a pair of wings—but also four limbs. One of the few instances of apparent hexa-limbed lineages present on New Eden.
Despite having went through the catalogue several times prior to this mission as per the recommendation of the Intelligence Wing's liaison, those creatures still had an almost mythical presence to them.
They are large—at least two metres across and possessed a reptilian morphology in addition to those large silver-coloured wings which had earned those creatures their moniker.
"At least they're not spitting flames," Robert interjects, loud enough to be heard outside his helmet.
"Draco Argenteostylus—silver-tipped dragon," Keller comments in response, "they can't—or at least, we haven't seen them do it since we discovered them two weeks into New Eden. Fun fact, the locals domesticate them as part of their air force—or air fleet as they call it."
"Didn't see any on our brief stint inside," Robert highlights as we crest the ridge, "so how many are there?"
Keller lets out a sigh. "Don't know—we were kept mostly indoors."
"We did spot a few overhead as we were taken into the city—back when..." Torrez shudders and trails off.
"Got it," I nod, piecing together the rest of her statement. No need to revisit that piece of history.
"House is clear," James announces after issuing final burst to scare the remaining silvers away.
Him and Douglas then gestures from their place on the ridge, prompting the rest to consolidate around them.
Douglas nudges Robert on his left arm, reminding the operative of the drone still clutched in his palm. Without missing a beat, Robert powers the drone, places it on the ground and pulls out a small interface. The screen flairs to life and he gets to work tapping his instructions furiously into the device. His fingers race across the digital interface until he concludes with a final resounding tap.
With a sharp whir, the drone shoots off the ground and climbs steadily on its four rotors. It continues to surge upwards as I watch, squinting both eyes to combat the sun's glare as it grows ever more distant.
After a minute, Robert issues the confirmation that it has reached its destination altitude. "It's set, I've got it pinging Tartarus on the specified frequencies, they'll know it's us. Should take a few minutes before they respond—assuming someone’s on the console," the Sergeant announces as he monitors the drone's various systems through the interface.
"Good, I want a defensive circle going in the meantime," I reply and turn around to properly brief the team and the two researchers. "We have any more drones?"
"Yeah, got five more in the pack. They're wedged at the left uppermost pocket," Robert promptly answers and turns around to allow the nearest operative to dig into his rucksack.
"Get a few up in the air for orbital recon—two kilometre radius for both ground and air. How much is up to you. Don't want surprises for the folks picking us up."
"Will do, leave it to me." Robert curtly responds. With help from James, he lines up the drones on the ground and types out his commands on the interface. In just under a minute, the drones are operational. All five disperse outwards to add just that extra layer of vigilance to our position.
"Keller—Torrez, you both just—" I pause, watching the two stagger towards me. They essentially have no value to add security-wise, even more so when they both looked barely able to hold themselves upright. "Just... stay within sight of us. If you spot anything, let any of us know."
"That we can do," Keller answers while Torrez simply returns a weak nod.
The team quickly gets to work establishing a temporary camp for one last time. We set our rucksacks down at a central location before parting to watch over our respective sectors.
While in the midst of picking out a spot to assume overwatch, Robert's voice booms over the channel.
"We've got contact with Tartarus, they're sending a Valor to our position," he reports, the operative's relief tangible through the channel.
I could practically hear the grin in his voice. Everyone else felt the same—mostly. For the team, it meant another successful notch under our belt. For the researchers, it finally marked the end of their terrible ordeal.
Three hours after receiving a reply, the unmistakable thrumming of a rotorcraft breaks the silence. I look south to see a lone Valor swiftly approaching from a low angle, racing several dozen metres above the tree line.
The aircraft loiters around our position, completing a full circle before turning into the elevated clearing. Gently descending the last ten metres, the Valor sets itself right beside our recently disassembled camp with its wheels hitting the ground with an audible thud.
The side doors open to reveal a single crewmen disembarking, armed with a standard issue M7 like the rest of us. The man sweeps his gaze as we gather around the aircraft, then steps aside to make way as the first man eagerly hops inside the cabin.
"One minute—one minute," the crewmen warns, though it is mostly redundant. James was first to board followed by the two researchers, I step back and wait for the rest of the team to enter the Valor before closing it off by tapping the man on his shoulder.
"I'm last, let's go!" I yell over the deafening roar of the rotors.
The crewmen—Mitchell, as identified by the name tag on his uniform jabs his thumb back to the Valor. "Strap in, we're wheels up in thirty!"
"Will do," I answer, and bound into the interior. Mitchell steps back into the Valor and slams the door shut, turning around with a finger pointed across me to Torrez—the woman slumped against her seat with its safety belt dangling loosely at her side.
"Straps!" Mitchell yells, startling Torrez into complying with his demands.
He races across the cabin to take up an empty seat directly across me as the Valor abruptly lurches forward. The forward tilt of the aircraft pushes me into the shoulder of the adjacent operative and I could see the ground retreating from the window across the interior.
I breath out a sigh a relief and let my guard down—the first time I could afford to in days. During the flight, intermittent conversations break out between the team and Cooper, the latter inquiring about our mission and what we did over the past couple of days.
We methodically answer his questions, confirming several of the man's suspicions as he reveals that news of the research team's disappearance, and the reports following our subsequent mission to their last known location has now been made an open secret among those stationed on both Cygnus and Tartarus.
"Glad you guys made it back in one piece—activity's been minimal ever since command got reshuffled," Mitchell continues, his brows furrowing as he continues, "doubt it'll stay that way though. Several private jets came in two days ago with plenty of fresh grunts. They're all approved for Rift-side deployment—about fifty at least."
"That's over triple what the Eden garrison had going on," James scoffs and removes his helmet to reveal the dark bags under his eyes. "Not surprised though."
"If it helps keep these guys in check, I'm all for it," I say, glancing to the researchers with a dark look. Both of them had the decency to look embarrassed as the conversation touches on them.
"Didn't expect to ride this far up north, especially with the war going on," Mitchell remarks as he looks to both survivors, pelting them with a cold glare. His brows crease further, holding to his scrutiny as he continues leveraging his gaze at the silent pair, "hell of a twist you guys pulled outta this one. "
"Yeah," I agree. It definitely is. We went into this mission expecting it to be purely reconnaissance. I can already imagine the how things will play out back at Tartarus.
The team would be swarmed by a good portion of the research wing as soon as we landed—dozens of overly zealous researchers all aiming to get their greedy paws on us without considering our need for rest and reconstitution. It's also a safe bet to assume that the team will be required to fill out an extensive report regarding the mission sometime later today. We have a lot to unpack, and it will take days to fully document our findings on paper.
All things considered, it went off the rails in the best way possible This is one for the books, if this whole thing between us and this faction ever works out.
The foundation is already laid, but more needs to be done to get it going. The rest is up for Cygnus to decide. Hopefully, they've learnt enough to avoid repeating this mistake again—the same mistake that led to my team's involvement into this world, New Eden.
===The End===