THE CITY OF NORONE HAS BEEN CAPTURED BY UBM FORCES. METHODS USED UNKNOWN. CONTACT WITH NORONE FORCES LOST. PROXIMITY TO COMMAND BASE IN DEVER CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS TO COMMAND STRUCTURE.
URGENT ACTION REQUIRED
As the final crates of medical supplies and ammunition were loaded into the train, the engineering corps began final inspections of the vehicle. The streets of Dever were filled with soldiers. Their regal white and red uniforms shone like bright beacons with what little sunlight broke through the blinding sands blowing in from the desert beyond the city. These Infantrymen who oversaw the policing of Myere’s interior, were verifiable veterans. To achieve the Infantryman rank itself would require only about a year of dedicated service in the Vanguard, surviving around a dozen deployments and watching as the recruits that you trained with slowly dwindled into a handful of the most physically and mentally adept. However, to be stationed within Dever — the logistical brain, billowing lungs, and anite-pumping heart of the war effort — would require experience above and beyond just the average soldier. With the ever advanced tactics of the machines of the UBM, the coalition of Myere was forced to fight back with sheer numbers. For this reason, the truly experienced Infantry would be too valuable to send in blind. If the Infantry are Myere’s unbreakable handle that the military command grips to direct the sword, then the Vanguard are the blade that makes the cuts.
Fresh-faced teenaged soldiers lined up beside the train. They stood in precise, square formations. They were the 78th, 79th, and 80th Vanguard units. Composed of four squads each, the sixty-odd soldiers remained at attention, staring up at the Lestine Palace. High above, on a balcony overlooking the young Vanguard soldiers, a woman stared down upon them. The Brigadier Commander, Harriet Pierre, the highest ranking military officer second only to the King himself, observed the emergency deployment. Likewise, they stared back up at Harriet, watching her fix the angle of the microphone before her. She cleared her throat, letting the sound echo across the silent trainyard. She then opened her mouth, and spoke with precision and confidence,
“Men and women of Myere, I come bearing the loss of the city of Norone. We stand at the deciding moment in our struggle with the UBM. In this grueling war we face together, I stand before you to announce that we have lost our brothers, our mothers, and our children. They have taken what makes us strong and left us with nothing. The people of Norone have been plunged into the pit of depravity, as those unfeeling machines have stolen them and their homes out from under them. But, make no mistake: we will fight.”
“Vanguards of Myere, you are being dispatched to take back our city. To take back the lives of civilians lost to those cold, unfeeling things. I come here today to wish you luck, skill, and victory. You will pave the way for a better future; and for that, I salute you. Your road ahead is neither easy, nor simple. Trust in your commanders as I do. Save our city. Save our people. Godspeed.”
Harriet’s speech was met with the thunderous sound of boots stomping in unison, with the crisp image of dozens of arms all reaching for a salute, and the satisfying cry of an inspired army. The men and women on the ground sharply turned to the right and marched into the train cars. In rows of two, they boarded the second, fourth, and fifth train cars. Meanwhile, the final crates of arms and munitions were loaded into the third.
Inside the fourth train car, troops of the 79th Vanguard sat on cold metal seats that ran the length of the car. Between each seat was a small vertical slit in the wall of the car, just large enough for a rifle barrel to be stuck through. On the far end of the car from where the troops boarded, a makeshift animal pen had been set up. It was lined with hay and fenced off with waist-high steel beams. Fenced in was a large quadrupedal animal that the engineers had struggled to force into the car. The animal appeared similar to a large brown bear, with a similar head and body, but much longer fingers and claws. The creature sat docile in its pen, though many of the younger Vanguard soldiers gave it only sidelong glances. One woman, slightly older than most on board, took the seat next to its pen, and reassuringly ran her hand through its fur, whispering to it in the meantime.
Outside, engineers standing at the sides of each train car began to wave their arms, signaling down the long chain that everything was ready, and soon the whistle on the train blew and the train began its march to the city of Norone. While the train lurched forwards, all the young troops held onto their seats. One girl nearly fell to the floor, and in gripping the edge of the seat for stability, she dropped her rifle. The weapon smacked the metal floor and began to slide down the train car. The girl watched in horror as the rifle came to a stop under the boot of the oldest man in the car, her commanding officer. Unlike everyone who was desperately holding on to prevent themselves from flying away like the gun, the middle-aged man stood near the door. His straight back and locked knees didn’t sway an inch as the train picked up speed, and his hands stayed firmly behind his back. His uniform was adorned with a singular medal denoting his rank, as well as a sizable medical kit strapped to his waist. As the train’s speed leveled out, the girl quickly jumped out of her seat and scrambled over to the man.
“I’m so sorry Captain Margot!” the girl bowed her head to the officer. As she did, her hat dipped down, and then too joined her rifle on the floor. She didn’t move from her bowed position, too afraid to look her captain in the eyes. Maxwell Margot didn’t respond to the girl. He silently stared down at the back of her blonde head, watching her sweat as she expected a response.
“Your rifle is your life,” he spoke. His tone was harsh and his eyes were furrowed. “Right now, your life is resting under my boot. Do you know what this means?” Slowly, the girl straightened up, nervously looking up at her commander. The others in the train watched in silent horror. The girl, too scared to respond, could only awkwardly smile to cope.
Margot continued, “It means that you don’t care about your life. It means that you failed to understand the importance of our task. What if I were an enemy? You wouldn’t be standing here, you’d be dead. Unarmed, dead, and powerless. You dropped your rifle and now you’re dead. Do you understand?” The girl nervously nodded her head. “You’ve failed to maintain your weapon, and have thus shown failure to maintain yourself. 1st Vanguard Avril Tiene, you are obviously not ready for combat. At the first possible moment, I will recommend you for re-training. Should you fail again, I will ensure you are discharged before you get someone else killed.” The girl looked down, tears began to form in her eyes.
“I’m sorry sir,” she managed between sharp breaths.
Margot ran his fingers across his well-oiled handlebar mustache. Producing a pocket watch from his coat, he stared at the ticking hand. Suddenly, he snapped the watch closed, and lifted his foot from the girl’s weapon. “Cadieux,” he sharply said, “you’re with me. Infantry meeting.”
At the captain’s command, a hooded soldier silently rose from his seat. The hood was not a part of the standard issue uniform, although, neither was the scope attached to his rifle. He nodded at the captain and began to march behind him. They strode past the girl on the floor, past the animal pen, through a sliding door, and disappeared into the third train car. As the door clicked behind the two men, there was a visible release of tension. Many of the younger soldiers slouched forwards, while others pulled off their shakos to wipe nervous sweat from their brows. Soon the city of Dever was nothing more than a prick of light in the distance.
The girl on the ground quickly grabbed her rifle and returned to her seat. She nervously looked around before noticing a sidelong glance from the man seated beside her.
“Is Captain Margot always that intense?” she asked him. The man’s eyes wandered upwards as he seemed to debate something in his head.
“Well… when you’ve seen everything he has, he’s probably right to be a bit of an asshole about the rules,” the man responded. The girl let out a defeated sigh before turning her head to look at the man she was speaking with. Looking up, she found herself staring into unnatural eyes. Yellow irises stared back at her, with slit-like pupils reminiscent of a cat. In an attempt to break the awkward silence, he stuck his hand out towards her.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“I’m Damien, 4th Vanguard,” he said.
“I’m Avril, 1st Vanguard,” she replied. She reached out and limply gave him a handshake.
“This is probably your first deployment,” Damien said.
“Yeah,” Avril replied, turning back to stare at the floor.
“Look, it’s okay,” Damien placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Going back to basic isn’t the worst. In fact, I’m sure a few of us here could use a reminder of the rulebook.”
“Us?” Avril wondered aloud, “Wait, you’re part of Captain Margot’s squad right?” The slender man chortled, as if Avril had told him an unexpected joke.
“I guess you could say that. It’s not like he personally picked us or anything. He literally just got promoted to 2nd Infantryman.”
The woman on the other side of Damien gave an audible “Hmph!” at Damien’s comment. Avril leaned forwards to take a look at her. She was as tall and slender as Damien, though her uniform was much more cleanly pressed, without a speck of dust to be seen. Her long, black hair was tightly wound into a bun on the back of her head, and held together with a white ribbon.
“Got something to add, Laëtitia?” Damien gave the woman a smirk.
“You should show a little bit more respect to Captain Margot, he’s worked hard to get to his position, you know.” Laëtitia spoke as though she were giving a lecture.
“Well,” Damien responded,” I think you should show a little bit more respect to me. I do outrank you after all.” The woman rolled her eyes at Damien.
“Maybe you should go back to basic with Avril,” she sneered at him. Despite the hostility in their comments, it was obvious there was a familiarity between the two of them. Their banter seemed almost rehearsed, as if this wasn’t the first time they’ve exchanged barbs.
“Wait, isn’t she part of your squad too?” Avril quietly asked Damien, pointing at the woman.
“Yes I am,” she replied for Damien. “You should listen more to the captain than Damien. If I were you, I’d be doing my best to follow the rules and avoid getting court-martialed.”
“Her name’s Laëtitia by the way,” Damien interjected.
“It’s pronounced lay-tee-see-yuh, not luh-ti-shuh” she turned to Damien, “how many times do I need to tell you that?”
“I’m just messing with you,” Damien jokingly held up his hands.
“Woah,” Avril wondered aloud. “You guys know a lot about running a squad. Have any of you been in charge of your own squads before?”
From elsewhere, a soft woman’s voice chimed in, “It’s not that simple.” Avril looked up to the source of the voice. Beside the bear’s pen, a dark tan woman smiled back at her. Her uniform looked more like she had just come back from the battlefield rather than just deployed, with streaks of dirt on her sleeves and small holes in the sides of her boots. The woman didn’t sport the usual chin-strapped shako hat, and instead she simply sported a messy bun. Whenever the woman moved her head, loose bits of dirt would seemingly appear just to fall out of her hair. Despite her messy appearance, she exuded a calming and comforting aura.
“I’m Yelda,” the woman continued, “Yelda Aphelion, and this is Chestnut,” she ruffled the bear's fur, “I’m also part of Margot’s crew.”
“Hi,” Avril awkwardly responded, “um, quick question, if you’re also in the captain’s squad, why are you allowed to dress differently?”
Damien let loose a fully formed laugh, “We were dressing like this long before Margot took over the squad. At this point, if he tried to make us change, people would think we got replaced.”
“Section 8, subsection 3 of the military handbook,” Laëtitia began to speak aloud, seemingly in a trance. “All soldiers are given two standard uniforms, one for formal wear and one for active deployment. It is the responsibility of the individual serviceman to ensure that his or her uniform is maintained and replaced if necessary. When commanded by a supervising officer, a serviceman may be required to wear a specific uniform and may be demerited based upon the appearance of his or her uniform. Otherwise, demerits based upon uniform are not to be enforced unless in offense of Section 10…” Laëtitia continued to rattle off her encyclopedic knowledge of the handbook.
“In layman’s terms,” Damien whispered to Avril, “We can wear and modify our uniforms as much as we want, as long as we keep it recognizable.”
“I see…” Avril, in fact, did not see. “So, uh, Yelda, what did you mean by ‘it’s not that simple?’”
“Unless you’re of a very high rank, you don’t get any say in your deployment,” Yelda cooly explained. “Much less who you get to be with or whether you’re in charge. Margot got stuck with us.”
“Stuck with you?” Avril asked.
Damien interjected, “Enough about us, where’s your squad?” Avril spun her head around for a moment. The other people in the car were even younger than her, and many seemed too nervous to openly speak like Margot’s squad.
“Uh,” she spoke, “I’m with Amon’s squad… them, I think,” Avril pointed at a group consisting of three teenage boys and one other girl on the other end of the traincar. When Avril turned back towards Damien, it was impossible to notice Laëtitia staring daggers at one of the boys from Avril’s squad.
“Calm down Laëtitia,” Yelda softly said. “When we get back, you can petition for command. I’m sure you’ll get your chance.” Damien put a reassuring hand on Laëtitia’s shoulder.
“You’ll get your chance. As for you,” Damein looked back towards Avril, “you should go worry about those guys instead of us. Last thing you want is for any of you to end up in our squad.”
“What do you mean?” Avril asked.
“You’ll see. Go, talk with your crew.”
Avril thanked Damien before excusing herself. She scurried to the other end of the train car and sat on an empty seat with her squadron. The train proceeded along the tracks in relative quiet. The youngest recruits were still in shock from Avril’s public reprimand. Others took the opportunity to stretch, standing up and walking the length of the car. All of them made sure to have their rifles strapped securely to their backs, or cradled carefully in their arms. A couple of the troops gathered by Chestnut’s pen and asked Yelda for permission to pet him. Yelda happily obliged, and Chestnut didn’t seem to mind. When they asked how Yelda came to own Chestnut, she cryptically responded, “I don’t own him, we watch each other.”
The quiet atmosphere eased the tension in Laëtitia’s mind and she soon found herself meticulously taking her rifle apart. Piece by piece she examined the components, checking for flaws that she had already confirmed didn’t exist at least a dozen times before they even lined up outside the train that morning. Everyone in the train knew that they could very well be riding the train to their deaths. Even Avril, inexperienced as she was, understood that their one and only stop would likely be met by a hail of bullets when they pulled into Norone. They were quiet because they didn’t want to die screaming.
A few minutes later, a man in goggles stepped into the train car, entering from the door on the far side of where Margot exited only a few moments before. Much like Yelda, he showed no indication of even an attempt at following the dress code. He wore no hat, revealing unkempt orange hair, with loose strands pulling his head in different directions. His clothes were covered in coffee and oil stains, some of which seemed far past the point of being able to be ironed out. Even his boots were untied, the laces whipping wildly as he took quick, energetic steps. Were it not for the wrinkles and stress marks on his face, he would fit right in with the energetic youths.
Perhaps due to how well he fit in, the man’s passing went unnoticed. He stepped around the teenagers on the ground and as he passed by Chestnut’s pen, he gave the bear a quick pet before moving into the third car. Laëtitia watched this happen and said nothing, letting her eyes watch him independent of her hands which continued to instinctively fiddle with her weapon. Less than ten minutes later, the man reappeared in the train car, passing once again. The soldiers never once paid him any attention.
Just as the goggled man disappeared into the fifth car to be with his troops in the 80th Vanguard, Maxwell Margot reentered. It took a moment, though the ever-vigilant Laëtitia was the first to notice. She calmly reassembled her weapon, and sat at the ready with her rifle propped up against her shoulder. Everyone else, however, was blissfully unaware.
“Attention!” Margot yelled into the car. The moment the captain’s voice rang through the train car, the soldiers straightened out. Those who had paced the floor grabbed their weapons and stood up with their feet together and their arms in salute. Those in their seats mimicked Laëtitia, sitting up straight with their rifles neatly leaning against their shoulders. Even Chestnut seemed to focus on the captain, sitting upright with its eyes wide and muscles unnaturally tense. All eyes were on Maxwell Margot.
“I want everyone in their seats and to check their gear,” Margot commanded. The few standing quickly rushed to empty chairs. “Check your ammo counts, make sure your rifles are clean, and be ready to move at a moment’s notice.”
As the soldiers began to open their bags and count their ammo, Amon, the boy in charge of Avril’s squad, looked up at the captain and asked, “Why are we preparing sir? We’re still hours out of Norone.”
Maxwell Margot looked at this boy, and calmly replied, “We’re going to be ambushed.”