~January 12th, 136 AH~
~Joint Base Akra, Reiter Garrison~
As it turned out, the first mission briefing of Zelen Athelstan’s career was not the austere affair he’d pictured in his mind.
Seven Reiters—including him—had been called into the meeting, along with the Corpsmen who would provide support in the lead-up to the mission. Most of the gathered Reiters were significantly more senior than him, ones he’d seen very little of even after a month and change as a newly commissioned officer.
The men and women from the Corps—an assortment of Gaertners, Jaegers, Panzers, and even one Kurator—did sit quietly at the back of the room, postures rigid and notebooks at the ready. By contrast, the senior Reiters were considerably more individualistic in their disposition.
Major Makiri Shiranui, callsign ‘Spindrift’, sat in a corner apart from everyone else, ostensibly absorbed in a crumbling paperback in his hand. Another Reiter (still dressed in his PT gear!) had pushed a chair against a wall and was in the midst of a vigorous set of tricep dips. Then there was the trio that chatted loudly in a loose circle, quite indifferent to the fact that the entire room was within earshot.
One of the trio had his feet up on a desk and was regaling his companions with tales of his latest escapades in the red-light district (in excruciating detail at that). Zelen’s ears turned red, as he shuddered to imagine how the women in the room must be feeling. It did occur to him belatedly that perhaps they were the intended audience.
In strange company such as these, he would’ve normally taken refuge in the presence of his friend Megha Vakta. But the traitor was presently entrenched among the chatty trio, and no wonder, given that the storyteller was none other than his own brother, Major Ghata Vakta. And Zelen could see now where Megha had gotten some of his personality from.
Luckily, there was someone else in the room he could feel comfortable around, which was something he never would’ve believed just a month ago.
Captain Ambrose Vasseur, the erstwhile Instructor that had overseen the last few years of Zelen’s proto-Reiter training, had since been reinstated to combat duty, and this was to be his first mission since his return. The man Zelen had once looked to with not much more than fear and resentment now acknowledged him with a wry smile and an eyeroll. Zelen managed a weak smile in response.
They were no longer Instructor and Cadet, but rather comrades in arms, and that simple change had been enough to break down the barrier between them. Zelen allowed himself to hope that, over time, he would learn to see these other Reiters the same way. He might even join in on their banter one day, but that day was decidedly not today.
Presently, the door to the briefing room swung open, and in marched a squat middle-aged man whose shoulders bore the crossed sabres of the Colonel rank. As he stopped and turned at the middle of the room, his chest, despite his bolt upright posture, barely cleared the podium he stood behind.
Zelen knew this man to be Colonel Augustus Zhao, retired from active combat but still heavily involved in the goings on around the Reiter Garrison. Following what he assumed to be protocol, he jumped to his feet and saluted… and was mortified to find that he’d been the only one to do so.
Makiri Shiranui didn’t even look up from his private reading material. Ghata Vakta did cut himself off mid-tale but hadn’t bothered to take his feet off the desk. Even the Corpsmen, as polite and attentive as they were, remained seated.
Zelen quickly sat back down and avoided meeting anyone’s gaze. And after a few fraught seconds where the only audible sound was the slightly elevated breathing of the triceps-dipper, Colonel Zhao cleared his throat.
“Right, let us begin then,” he drawled, clearly uninterested in addressing the utter lack of respect paid him by any Reiter in the room not named Zelen Athelstan. This wasn’t so strange, Zelen quickly reflected. The Colonel might’ve outranked everyone here, but Zhao wasn’t one of four surnames that superseded every norm and custom in Akropolis.
“The main objective of Operation Spearhead is to secure Korak Valley in the heart of Sector Gemini.” Colonel Zhao switched on the overhead projector, which showed a tactical map of the sector in question. “As you should all be aware, Korak Valley is the site of an abandoned FOB—Forward Operating Base, for those of you who might need a refresher—currently overrun by Syntropy forces that have since constructed a communications relay as well as a drone factory. The General has deemed it opportune to rectify that situation, and take back what is rightfully ours.”
The General of course referred to General Fenix Duodecim, uncle of Instructor Collima and the current Joint Forces chief-of-staff.
Zelen had seen him around base on several occasions, but the only time they’d actually spoken had been more than eight years ago, at Zelen’s first social function as an Athelstan child. Though the man wasn’t as physically imposing as his nephew, he nevertheless exuded a menacing aura about him that always made Zelen’s blood run cold in his presence. As such, he was unabashedly glad that it wasn’t the General giving this briefing.
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“The mission will involve three strike teams—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie—and progress through three corresponding phases,” Colonel Zhao continued, and rolled the projector onto a new sheet that showed three locations marked out in red ink. “First up is Bravo Team, led by Major Ghata Vakta with the support of Captain Otaga Shiranui. Your job is to disable the communications relay in order to prevent the enemy from calling in reinforcements.”
Otaga Shiranui was the one in the PT gear, who’d finished with the tricep dips but still tapped his feet incessantly, as though he just couldn’t stay still. A younger brother of Makiri’s, he was far from as accomplished a Reiter but—judging from his behaviour—just as eccentric.
“Next, a second team will move in and destroy the main generator, which should soften up the defenses on the drone factory. This will be conducted by Charlie Team, led by Captain Ambrose Vasseur and supported by Lieutenant Zelen Athelstan.”
Zelen found himself sharing a look with Captain Vasseur, who then gave him a small smile and a nod, one he failed to return in kind. Here inside a cramped meeting room on base, he still felt far away from the realities of battle. Yet hearing his name called out as part of a mission briefing had sent his stomach churning and ears ringing: a sensation that no friendly smile from a senior officer could settle.
The rest of the briefing went by in a kind of blur. All Zelen really heard was that Megha had been selected as part of Alpha Team: a trio of Reiters to be led by Major Makiri Shiranui in disabling the drone factory and securing the main objective.
Colonel Zhao eventually led the group in zeroing their watches, then left the room. Amidst a scramble of feet and chairs, Zelen managed to meet Megha’s eyes, and found his friend’s pale and stricken face to be a mirror of his own. Megha quickly broke off his gaze, however, before forcing another laugh at something his brother said.
Seeing this, Zelen’s own apprehensions threatened to reach a new depth. Then he felt a clap on his back, and turned to find the earnest look on his former Instructor and now team leader for their first mission together.
“You thought you were badass piloting the ES-V in simulation?” Captain Vasseur said with palpable enthusiasm. “It’s nothing compared to how you’ll feel when you’re in the real thick of it. Chin up and work up an appetite, greenhorn. We’re about to genocide us some Syntropy.”
~January 13th, 136 AH~
~Sector Gemini, at the edge of Korak Valley~
“This is Spindrift, calling all team leaders. Radio check, over.”
“This is Tripod. Loud and clear, over.”
“Amphibian here. All good, over.”
“Acknowledged. Operation Spearhead is a go. Tripod, begin assault on the communications relay. Report once objective is secured. Amphibian, stand by for now. Spindrift out.”
“Acknowledged. Moving in on Objective Bravo. Tripod out.”
The radar on Zelen’s HUD showed two blue dots glide away from the rest of the group and off-screen. Major Vakta and Captain Shiranui had begun their phase of the mission, which meant Zelen himself would be called into action at any moment now.
The churning in his stomach accelerated, almost painfully. He swallowed hard, and frantically reminded himself that he had no less than five senior Reiters to rely upon, one of whom was partnered with him. Just follow Captain Vasseur’s lead, and I’ll be fine.
Then the radio crackled to life again, far sooner than he’d expected, “This is Tripod. Encountering heavy enemy resistance. Request backup, over.”
“This is Spindrift. Acknowledged. Sending Handles to Objective Bravo. Keep us updated, over.”
“Acknowledged. Tripod out.”
Another blue dot moved away from the radar, and Zelen felt relief that it wasn’t Megha that had been sent to reinforce Bravo Team. It wasn’t the most logical thought, given he had no idea if Megha would be any safer staying with Alpha Team, but regardless, his nervousness about combat extended to his friend.
The relief was short-lived, however, and quickly replaced by worsening dread. Just minutes into the first phase, Operation Spearhead had already encountered its first snag. Logical or not, he couldn’t help but see this as an ill omen for his own phase of the mission.
Are you nervous, Kingfisher?
Startled, Zelen nearly moved his head to look for the voice’s source, before remembering he was already wrapped up inside his Nexa-Suit. In his agitation, he’d somehow forgotten about the open channel to his Spiegel. Indeed, he was still trying to get used to the fact that he had one.
“Are you asking because you expect me to be nervous?” He managed in a surprisingly even voice. “Or can you actually tell that I am?”
I’m your Spiegel, Kingfisher. It’s my job to be attuned to your Nexus-bound signals. But I won’t mention it again, if you prefer me not to.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. And I’m sorry if I came off rude,” Zelen said hastily, forgetting his anxieties for a second to marvel at his own politeness toward a Spiegel. “To answer your question… Affirmative. I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my life.”
A slight pause, which gave the illusion that Delta-Upsilon was taking time to compose her feedback.
I’m told this is a perfectly normal response to one’s first combat situation. If it helps any, based on available intelligence reports and the nature of your mission, I’ve estimated your chance of survival to be 78%.
In other words, there’s a 22% chance I’ll just die out here.
“Thanks, that does make me feel better,” Zelen lied through gritted teeth.
There was another pause, and this somehow felt more genuine than the previous one.
I’m sorry, Kingfisher. I sense that I’ve offended you somehow. I only wished to help put your mind at ease.
“No, please don’t feel bad on my account.” Zelen found himself trying to soften his tone, as though he cared about the feelings of an AI entity. Perhaps he was as strange as everyone in Akropolis seemed to think he was. “And you know what, this probably did help a bit. At least it’s distracted me while I’m waiting.”
I’m glad, Kingfisher. And remember, you’re not in this alone. I’m always at your side, ready to assist however I can.
It was Zelen’s turn to take a moment to gather his thoughts. He found himself welling with an entirely new emotion, one that felt utterly at odds with his predicament and yet simultaneously the realest thing he’d felt since the night of his Tethering.
“Thanks. I—”
“This is Tripod, reporting to all units. Objective Bravo is secured. Repeat, Objective Bravo is secured. All teams clear to proceed, over.”
“This is Spindrift. Acknowledged. Bravo Team, stand by and await further instructions. Charlie Team, you’re up.”