Up ahead, the city's lights finally break through the monotony. A large wall stretches across my line of sight, though a few sections had collapsed, revealing a glimpse of its interior. Figures patrolled from the top in teams of two or more. Draped along the exterior wall, their banners hung at regular intervals, their familiar crowned symbols muted in colours but still discernable from the ambient lighting spread across the battlements.
"Okay, this is enough." I raise a hand to indicate the rest to stop. Two hundred metres is the closest I will risk.
Turning around, I step closer to James and briefly check on the woman hanging on his shoulders. "How's she doing?"
The operative shakes his head. "Not good," he grimly states.
"Put her down. This is as close as we'll go," I reply, then gesture to the other surviving soldier standing around with a questioning look. "I'll get this bozo to raise the alert."
"Alright," James nods, and slowly eases the woman onto the ground on her back. She groans weakly, and instinctively moves both hands to nurse the stab wounds on her left stomach.
"Got a group of sentries just outside the eastern gate. I count six," Douglas informs and inches a few metres ahead of the group to assume overwatch on his belly.
I march up to the unnamed soldier and point a strict finger at the city and intone with a deep voice. "Get going, move your metal ass and get your friends over here."
Despite the language barrier, the message is received and promptly understood. The soldier moves off, limping past us on a direct heading to the city down the main road. His voice breaks out with desperation as he races ahead, quickly drawing the attention of the guards stationed at the gate.
He could have said any number of things and we will be none the wiser. And with the terrain now consisting of vast plains and apparently farmland, the team is at our most vulnerable.
"Standby, if they attack, we return fire and execute a controlled retreat eastwards," I say as the man finally reaches the gate.
"And the girl?" Douglas glances back.
"Won't be our concern anymore," I answer.
More soldiers rush out the city over the next few minutes. I observe the newcomers, noting the slight variations in what they wore in contrast to the usual uniforms. The soldiers possess a larger, more vibrant cape, and also sported a masked helmet which completely sealed their faces.
I move up, getting established on overwatch as more soldiers stream out the city. A few oddities are present amongst them, as though civilians of some kind with their state of attire. The locals begin consolidating themselves, and a small group soon breaks off and paces towards our position.
"Got incoming," I report.
"I see them. We have five soldiers, plus three unknowns—maybe civilians?" Douglas issues, his index already braced on the trigger.
Looking through my weapon's scope, I register a similar number to what he reports, and just like the operative, the sight of those three unknowns only raises questions. Their state of dress does lend credence to the assumption that they are civilians, though that simply could be wrong given their proximity to the approaching soldiers.
"Look alive, they're coming," I signal over comms as the small crowd advances past the halfway mark.
A pair of footsteps race behind me and drops on my far left. "I'm set," Robert declares.
"I'm keeping watch over the girl," James adds.
"Yeah, keep at it," I answer, giving the team medic the pass in this instance.
Standing up, I point my weapon down to present a non-aggressive stance. The group quickly catches sight of me and slows.
A jolt of regret races through me. The next few moments will set the tone for the upcoming interaction. Any number of complications could arise just based on the fact our languages are mutually unintelligible.
The nuances associated with interacting with a completely unknown culture is well above my scope. Any issues or sudden turn to violence will just have to be dealt with if it arises. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
I will just have to improvise, and see where this takes the team. The group of eight approaches and stops a good distance away. One of the civilians, dressed in flowing robes advances past the rest. As I look to her, her steps briefly falter before continuing.
The woman meets my gaze and closes the last dozen metres, extending a slender hand. I reach out mine and shake hers without delay while keeping my surprise in check. Her hand is soft—delicate, even through the glove.
The gesture seems familiar enough, though this could where the similarities end. Just like the rest of her ethnicity, her hair is a pale, ghostly white, spilling from the hood in soft, rolling waves. Her eyes are equally captivating, expressing a rich shade of violet that instantly draws me in.
She lets go and shifts uncomfortably in place. "Wh—who are you?" The woman says in heavily accented, but still passable English. The sheer oddity of it completely stops all train of thought.
She repeats it again, this time with slightly more confidence. But the strange lilt and accent remains, just as bizarre as the first time she said it.
"Is she?" James observes, taking a few steps closer. "How did... "
I raise a palm to stop him before returning to the woman. There is no mistaking it, I heard it right. We all did. That was English.
After thinking through her words again, I decide to take the shot and answer her question fully. "Second Lieutenant Jerome Simmons," I pause, scrutinizing her expression for changes.
A glint of recognition flashes across her face as she answers. "Then, you must... be seeking your lost... kin." The woman turns around, and gestures to the settlement, slowly articulating each word with a gentle tone. "Those we wrongfully slew are buried in honoured glory, but two still remains, seeking deliverance from our charge."
Somehow, there's at least one of them that knows English. Odd phrasings aside, this newfound revelation will allow me to navigate this exchange without fear of misunderstandings. Just the ability to converse without resorting to basic gestures opens up a lot of options and I fully intend to make good use of it.
I take a step back to fully understand my situation. Prior discussions back on Tartarus had already emphasized the guidelines and steps to follow for every conceivable scenario. From safely navigating out of a stand-off with local forces to providing medical care for wounded indigenous soldiers as required under International Humanitarian Law if we happen to encounter isolated units during the course of our mission, the list should have been exhaustive.
Apparently, that is not the case. Still, this is something I can work with.
"First, who are you and how can you speak English. And second, you said two remain, what are their names?" I ask, carefully looking over her shoulder to the soldiers further away, eying the subtle glint of their staffs and conventional weapons.
Her eyes shy away as she answers. "Lunelle, a priest of the esteemed Interior Guard, and you have your kin to thank for my privy to your language. Their minds soured because of it, but both are still sane," the robed woman pauses and looks back to me. "They are Richard, and... Sophia."
I turn to James. "That checks out with the roster?"
The team medic ponders for a few seconds before returning a nod. "Yeah, Team Six has a Dr. Richard Keller and Sophia Torrez. Keller's the team lead," he confirms.
Looking back to the woman, I raise my left hand and indicate to the settlement. "Get them out where I can see them, now," I intone, stepping closer to her.
Her guards shift with some vocally protesting in response to my actions. Lunelle turns around to calm her escorts before gesturing me to follow.
"Don't," James sharply says, shaking his head but otherwise makes no real effort to stop me. The comment is immediately followed with the operative tensing his posture, pulling his M7 rifle closer to his chest.
Two other visors glare back from the periphery. The rest of the team did not step up to voice their concerns, but their hard looks are enough to deduce their opinions. Just before calling team together for a discussion, a soft groan prompts me to look behind.
Still lying on her side, unattended by anyone, is the injured soldier. She weakly looks up, mustering the last of her strength to raise an arm and call attention to herself.
A mild grimace runs through me. In the midst of the commotion, her presence completely slips my mind—and apparently, the team's as well.
"Right," I turn around, mildly flustered at the lapse in priority. "We have one of your own, she needs medical attention."
The robed woman's eyes widen as I gesture to the injured soldier behind me. She pivots to face her escorts and reverts back to her native language, yelling out a stern command which is quickly answered with a timely chorus of affirmatives from the soldiers.
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In contrast to her soft looks, her tone is sharp and demanding, not unlike a Drill Sergeant's holler. A pair of soldiers quickly rush forward and slips past the team's defenses heading towards the critically injured woman.
"Explain?" Lunelle questions with an impatient look, her pale brows twisted as she boldly paces up to me barely half a metre away.
"It's not us," I answer and indicate to the road which the team took. "Convoy along this road was ambushed, all but two were killed. Your enemies would have executed them if we didn't stop them."
She sighs and seems to accept the explanation. "An occurrence sadly abundant in the dredges of war. But it matters not, follow me now."
"Just wait." I remain in place and raise a palm to indicate for more time.
Through squinted eyes, she sighs and folds both arms. For all intents and purposes, she is a complete stranger and I had everything to lose by taking this leap of faith—the mission, my life, and most importantly, the team.
I turn around to face them. We now have a choice to make. Take the risk and probe the city and maybe establish positive identification on the survivors or refuse and immediately make a hasty retreat back to the safety of the forest further east and continue our mission as planned.
The team exchange glances with one another. No one raises their concerns or speaks up. I always insisted on a layer of transparency when it concerns the team's wellbeing, and this is no different. Their input is just as vital as my own.
When a few seconds pass without further call outs, I resume my pace and gesture to one closest to me.
"Robert, with me," I intone, "we'll check out the city to verify their claims. If there's a chance Keller and Torrez are alive, then we get them out."
"Will do," the Operative hurries over to match my pacing. Just behind him, a pair of armoured figures advance carrying the injured woman by her limbs, steadily pacing to join the group at the end.
"If we don't return in an hour, assume the worst and report back to base. We might be getting a pass into the city," Robert murmurs on the team channel.
"You sure?" James returns, "me and Doug' can't help once you two dip past those gates. Hell, we'll need a full company's worth to even think of crashing this place. That'll take a few days."
"I'm sure," I interject as the city's antiquated walls loom over me.
"Worth a shot, drone intel's fresh. We'll sound the bell if the locals try anything with us," Robert continues on my behalf.
"Good luck," Douglas adds, his voice tensed, "for the record, this is not what I'd recommend personally."
"Hell of a payoff if we do this right. Might even lead to something good down the road," Robert muses.
I shrug, directing the retort through the team channel. "We'll see."
One of the staff-wielding soldiers turns our way, apparently noting the subtle exchange. He stares at us, his face concealed behind an imposing helmet, fronted by an iron mask that came with a permanent scowl.
Robert stares back and challenges the man's obvious scrutiny with a steady gaze. After a few seconds, the masked soldier relents and looks away with a muted scoff. Soon, we pass the gates and step inside the city.
Things here are quiet. It is cold, and empty—devoid of what I would expect from a city of this size. The road ahead leads to a central square with a junction at the far end splitting off in two directions leading to a dense avenue of buildings further in. Presumably, that is something akin to a residential district.
"I don't see any civvies—least, not ones we'd recognize," Robert comments as he pans over the buildings past the junction.
"Yeah, it's only military," I agree. The city's proximity to the front lines obviously had a severe impact on its inhabitants. At every turn, there are only soldiers and no civilians. All the more reason to find Keller and Torrez.
But despite the obvious urgency over my shoulder, I could still appreciate the city's unique architecture. The buildings vary wildly in shape and height, but are united by a common theme. Each one is composed of an unknown light gray, composite material, and barring some exceptions, are always topped with a large dome.
Much of the overall infrastructure reminded me of classical architecture, albeit with a unique twist that I can't really put into words.
"How is it?" James chimes in, "anything we should know?"
"For starters, it's more a military base than a city. Place is still active, plenty of sentries loitering just past the eastern gate. There's also a few horses stationed here and there, all decked out in armour," I answer.
"Any sign of our targets?" the team medic continues.
"Still a work in progress," I say.
"Roger, keep us posted," James concludes.
As we reach the main square, most of the escorting soldiers break off, heading towards the residential district which I assume are largely deserted and have since been requisitioned by the soldiers for their use.
The rest, consisting of Lunelle and the two others of similar dress pause and quietly whispers among each other. Occasionally, they glance our way as they conversed.
Robert keeps up a steady stream of updates back to James and Douglas as I watch the three bicker until two robed figures set off at a brisk pace and disappear into the sparsely lit streets.
"You will have your kin, but there is much to discuss with my superior. I believe an equivalent title to yours would be a... Lord General," Lunelle affirms while referring to the collection of large tents back at the main square.
I nod. "Okay, but we'll need you as an intermediary during that discussion. Just know that our only concern is getting our people back."
"I understand," she answers.
After a few minutes, the two robed figures return. Trailing slightly behind them and looking slightly disheveled, are the two missing researchers.
Robert closes in on the approaching group. "It's them, has to be."
Both the newcomers look exhausted, with dark bags beneath their eyes. Instead of the general issue uniforms the expedition team had worn in the video, the two survivors now sported loose fitting tunics and pants courtesy of the locals.
"Richard Keller, Sophia Torrez?" I call out.
In a moment, both their eyes perk up. The two researchers gasp and bolt past their escorts to reach me.
"Y—yes that's us, I'm Dr. Keller. Please—get us out of here," the former head of expedition six pleads, dropping to his knees.
Torrez meanwhile breaks into tears, muffling her sobs with a free hand as she latches onto my arm. Whatever they endured following first contact, it definitely was not a pleasant experience.
"I want to go back. Enough of this place," Torrez murmurs, her eyes bloodshot.
I rest a hand on her shoulder to placate the woman. "That's what we're here for."
"Positive I.D on Keller and Torrez. They're rattled, but alive," Robert announces over comms.
"Copy," Douglas returns.
"Both their minds have been tempered, pried into. It is only with such measures that we may speak as we do now," Lunelle calmly reveals then gestures to her two colleagues standing beside her.
"We take no pleasure in partaking in such demented rituals, but your ignorance of our language left us with no other recourse," the priest on her left interjects.
"All this is hard to take in," Robert says, loud enough for his frustration to show, "what you're saying makes absolutely no sense."
"The feeling is mutual then," Lunelle retorts and gestures to Keller and Torrez. "So many novel memories and concepts, all without need of the arcane sciences."
Keller finally stands up, his expression torn. "Just how much did you... siphon from doing... that, to the two of us."
"Enough to know that your people are not of this realm, that we need not be enemies, and that you Doctor," Lunelle raises a finger at the researcher, "are an unfaithful wretch to your wife."
Keller stammers. "I—it's... it was just three."
Lunelle scowls. "Three women too many."
I look to Robert who shrugs back. That last jab from the priest was unexpected but did establish Keller as the type of man driven largely by his own impulse. And because of him, four people are dead.
The conversation afterwards with the priests are less dramatic, it was mostly general questions aiming to address the obvious differences between our respective cultures. Where possible, and as agreed with Robert, we answer their questions as best we can without spilling sensitive information that would compromise the location of Tartarus station.
But given the revelation that the priests intimately knew the lives of Keller and likely Torrez as well, I had a sinking feeling it is already too late.
We have to assume they know where our base of operations is. If true, the implications—security-wise, are disastrous.
Lunelle steps in and takes over the conversation. "I will summon our Lord General. Once he has sated his inquiries, you have my word that you will be given safe passage out of Nora'Sel. And should you request it, escort by air back to your holdings in the fringe south."
"Noted," I say. There it is, that slip is all I need to confirm my worst fears. They already know.
After excusing herself, she leaves for the main square accompanied by both priests. Richard heaves out a sigh and Torrez finally lets go of my arm.
"So we're screwed, they know," Robert comments.
I move over to Keller and lean close. "I want to know, what is that... thing they did?"
The Doctor shakes his head, expression twisted as he responds. "Some sort of ritual but with magic. Whatever it was, it's horrible," he shudders.
"It always starts with a blindfold, then a cold icy feeling inside your head. Then, hours of torture as they sift through our memories, making us think against our will. It's... hard to explain, but I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy," Torrez pauses, wincing as she did so.
As the two researchers continue relaying their ordeal, Robert abruptly stops Keller. The operative shakes his head and further emphasizes his opinion with a cold tone. "Tartarus Station's still in its early phase, there's only about fifty of us deployed rift-side and that's after the recent shuffle up top. We're not ready if they come knocking, far from it really."
"Bounce it over, we'll need James and Douglas to hear about this just in case," I say.
"Will do," Robert nods, his hand already raised to activate comms.
First impressions concerning the locals can simply be summed up with one word, unexpected. After learning that a select few of their people are born with a natural affinity to what's been referred to as the arcane sciences, it made me wonder just what else the locals are capable of.
Both researchers wander over to a nearby bench and sit down. A couple of local soldiers pass by, their weapons, and in some cases uniforms, absent. They were dressed in red fatigues that almost mirror the ones worn by both Keller and Torrez. Whispers accompanied the small groups as they glance our way.
"Chin up, Jerome," Robert nudges me, "head honcho incoming."
He subtly gestures to the approaching soldiers coming from the main square. I remain silent, surveying the small crowd. Leading the front is a tall figure—flanked on both sides by a pair of heavily armoured guards. The man strides forward with confidence, his uniform a step up in both detail and flair.
I sigh and straighten my posture. "Great, I get to be the substitute representative for mankind."
Robert points to the researchers still sitting on the bench. "If you really want, you could ask either one to join you. We're definitely not paid for this type of thing."
"One's an impulsive womanizer, and the other's still scarred from the wringer the locals put them through. Rather take my chances solo on this stint," I reply with a dry tone.
Robert scoffs and continues. "Then you'll have to wing it with that charm of yours, if you even have any. If it helps, looks like the priest will be part of the squad. I see her trailing at the back of the crowd."
A tight knot forms in my stomach. Staging an impromptu defense of civilian contractors from an ambush in the midst of a humanitarian run, that was simple and straightforward. Breaching an abandoned building in the middle of the night, without advanced intel on the interior layout or number of potential hostiles, close to second nature at this point.
But serving as an representative in front of a completely foreign civilization, one that isn't even on Earth? That was uncharted territory.
The supposed General sends a cold, stone-faced look my way as he closes the last dozen metres. That was not an encouraging sign.
Without being prompted, Lunelle moves up and stops beside me. The robed woman turns to me and begins with a hushed tone. "Show reverence whilst Lord General Thellius addresses you and all shall be fine. All that I know of your kind, he is privy to," she warns, her eyes briefly flicking between me and the General.
"No pressure," I reply before looking up to match the man's imposing gaze.
There is no one but me to navigate through this mess. It is time to ignore the doubts, and muster a calm demeanor. Focus on task at hand, and the results should take care of themselves.
It always works in the heat of the moment. This one, should be no exception.
===End===