106 PF
Continental Empire
Kingdom of Larnach
City of Larnach
Fort Anastasia
1800 hours
Director-General McCarter was going to have a bad day. He knew it because it was inevitable – nobody could endure what he was about to go through without ending up in an extremely sour mood. Years of military experience had hardened his nerves, but even such extreme fortitude was about to be put to the test. He patted reflexively at his pristine black-and-purple uniform, straightened his cap, and promised to himself not to strangle that insane bastard the moment he saw him.
Remarkably young for his stature, the General walked through the corridors of the sprawling military complex that was Fort Anastasia at his customary sluggish pace. He allowed his mind to wander, idly reflecting on the circumstances that consigned him to this meeting – a long and turbulent history that had come to a violent crescendo with the assassination of the Larnachian monarchy six years ago and the beginning of martial law.
The ongoing guerrilla conflict against the magic-bearing Sparkwielder insurgents demanded extreme measures to ensure victory, and the Meister-General – current regent of the Kingdom of Larnach – was endorsing and funding unrestricted, increasingly immoral experiments into creating a weapon or soldier powerful enough to defeat a Sparkwielder.
McCarter’s job was – among countless other things – to review and report on the newest products of such attempts. He was not particularly enthusiastic about it.
Making his way across the base – the thumping heart of the Larnachian military serving as command centre and nexus of operations – the General reached its outdoor area. It was, in a rather subjective way, beautiful. Vast amounts of space were dedicated to storage bays and training areas and testing grounds, with vehicles and machinery parked in-between. What seemed like chaos was born of clever design, utilizing the ancient battle-honoured grounds of Fort Anastasia to accommodate a modern military in the most optimal way possible.
Soldiers marched to and fro in the evening light, occasionally giving McCarter a respectful salute. They knew better than to snoop on any of the higher-ups’ activities, even when one of the most high-ranking people in the entire military was walking amidst them. He kept moving, passing through several checkpoints, and soon reached a deeper, segregated area of the base – a controlled testing ground away from any prying eyes.
McCarter’s looming anxiety was masked by the facsimile of a prideful stance – a ramrod posture with his head held slightly high and his left arm kept behind his back. He continued looking around, glancing at his wrist watch and hoping to the gods that the person he was about to meet would be late.
Alas, Allister Ford arrived right on the hour – a lean man of pleasant complexion, his blond hair neatly combed and his smile sweetly innocent, not a shadow of a stain on his brilliant lab coat.
“Greetings, General!” he chirped out with a sing-song voice, before shifting to a slightly more business-appropriate tone. “You’re right on time for my newest presentation. Stargazers, show yourselves!”
From behind his back appeared four people and promptly assembled themselves into a perfect row. They were short, thin, and all-around small – almost as if they were children – wearing dark trenchcoats with spacious long sleeves ending in gloved hands. The collars of the coats were so weirdly large and tall that they completely obscured their heads, yet this did not appear to hinder their vision in the slightest. The coats reached down about to the thighs, at which point one could see tight-fitting pants and tiny shoes. Lastly, they featured coloured armbands, each person assigned one particular tone.
“Behold – my dear Stargazers!” he began with the rigid cadence of a repeatedly rehearsed speech. “Psychotropic therapy consisting of chemical injections and specialized implants has unlocked psychic vision in their malleable little minds, and intense combat training has shaped these otherwise worthless orphans into skilled, unconditionally obedient assassins capable of eliminating any enemy with ease. These are the soldiers that the Meister-General truly needs!”
He smiled even wider as he faced his creations and addressed them one by one.
“This is the first generation. Rose,” the one with the red armband straightened her posture, “Lime,” the green girl also perked up, “Navy,” the blue boy followed suit, “and Gold,” for the yellow child.
“I expect them to be tested in real battle so that I can analyse the results, weeding out any weaknesses or shortcomings for an even more effective second generation. Project Stargazer has only just begun, after all!”
By the end of the speech, Director-General McCarter was absolutely stunned. Offensively gobsmacked, even. This was far from the first time he had to deal with Allister’s deranged human experiments, but the psychopath has crossed one too many lines this time around. The fantastical yet not quite implausible promise of ‘psychic vision’ hardly even registered in the General’s mind, his entire attention captured by the abhorrent concept of presenting young children as a product.
“Children…” was all he managed to say at first, before breaking into a furious hiss, barely refraining from yelling. “You’re using children? Why?!”
“I’m afraid that my new technique does not work on adults,” casually replied the scientist, his grin only growing larger. “Not to fret, these soldiers are every bit as deadly as you’d expect from matured humans.”
“I…”
“Even so, since when did your kind worry about morals, General?” he then spat out with a venomous sarcasm. “Why does it matter if they’re kids? Aren’t we all just cogs in the Larnachian war machine, fighting for the sake of the Continent, working for a just cause?” Allister giggled malevolently, clearly indulging in the act, before returning to his usual demeanour. “I have been fully authorised for my research by the Meister-General himself, so you have absolutely no right to object. Now, enough talk. Commence combat demonstration, two on two!”
The Stargazers immediately paired up and walked to the opposite sides of a predefined zone, Rose and Lime on one team with Navy and Gold on the other. A nearly soundless swish could be heard as all the soldiers drew long, thin blades from the sheaths on their backs – light as a fencer’s foil but with the cutting edge of a sword. Not wasting another moment, the teams charged at each other. The battle had begun.
Rose jumped and dodged around Gold’s lightning-fast flurry, aiming precise stabs at his thin frame but constantly missing by a small margin. In the other skirmish, Navy swung with force and determination, trying to corner Lime as her retaliatory strikes proved just barely insufficient to deter the attack. All of the soldiers moved with graceful elegance and fought with lethal precision, any flanking manoeuvres seemingly pointless as the Stargazers’ purported psychic vision appeared to be omnidirectional.
McCarter watched both of these duels with an irreconcilable mix of abject horror and analytical interest, one part of his mind overcome with emotion and another observing the battle with detached fascination. Mobility, precision, lethal force – the three crucial components of effective Sparkwielder combat that the General knew by heart were being checked off, and he didn’t even know whether to feel outraged or impressed.
Perhaps both.
As soon as Rose found an opening in Gold’s advance and put a blade up to his heart, everyone froze. The winner of the contest was clear. Gold’s head dropped in shame, bending his collar; Navy stood firm, but with a slightly faltering step; Lime looked quite content with her performance; and Rose was hopping in place with adorable excitement, walking up to the scientist as if expecting some kind of reward. Allister bent down to reach her level and said a simple ‘good job’. She spun around with glee and strolled back into line.
“As you can see, rewarding them with praise is very effective,” he said dryly, like reciting an instruction manual for a kitchen appliance. “They have been conditioned to crave success and fear failure.”
The General somehow managed to bring order to the countless thoughts swirling in his mind, pushing back his anger and sighing heavily at the inevitable prospect of having to send child assassins to hunt down superhuman terrorists. He knew that complaining would get him decidedly nowhere, and turned to more practical matters.
“Fine, I see that they might at least survive whatever missions they may be assigned to. But what happens when they… well, grow up?”
Allister looked surprised at that question.
“The need for anti-Sparkwielder agents will likely fade away by then, won’t it? Otherwise, I’d have already nurtured a new generation. The Stargazers may not be able to fully integrate into a ‘normal’ life, but that problem is not within the scope of the project.”
The General gritted his teeth. The way that girl was made so happy by the bare minimum of affirmation... it sickened him. Though marketed as soldiers, they were still just kids at heart. Was there anything he could do?
“Stargazers!” exclaimed the scientist upon receiving no further retort. “You shall be assigned to this man – Director-General McCarter. Follow him and obey his orders, but do not leave his service unless I order you otherwise. This is your chance to prove yourselves. I am counting on you, so don’t fail me.”
The children glanced among themselves, murmuring something inaudible, before promptly crowding around their new master, surrounding him with unnerving invisible stares from behind their collars.
“You,” Allister said to him, “shall accommodate them in your personal quarters. They will be assigned to their first mission the night after tomorrow, courtesy of the Meister-General. They will obey your every command and won’t require anything but basic physical necessities and occasional verbal encouragement. They are also highly autonomous in many regards, training and maintaining equipment on their own.”
“Will you at least tell me their real names?!” interrupted the General, desperately grasping for any vestige of reason in this grotesque situation.
“Oh?.. What do you mean?” asked Ford, looking genuinely bewildered. “Those are the names they had chosen for themselves, long before I was able to acquire them for my programme.”
Devoid of any further questions and sensing no deceit in the scientist’s words, Director-General McCarter pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. This was draining his patience to an extreme, but he couldn’t afford to lose his cool around dependent, attention-starved children.
“Follow me, then,” he said to them blankly, walking back to his quarters and hearing the steady pitter-patter of tiny feet behind him. Things were off to a start even worse than had been predicted.
----------------------------------------
And there he was, slumped in his office chair with four kids gathered around him, contemplating concepts such as life and duty and potential murder of somebody very specific.
“Can you... take off those coats of yours?” he finally asked, sick of the blank collars staring at him. “Please?” he added hastily, not wanting it to sound like an order.
The Stargazers did that usual glance of theirs, murmured for a bit, and then began unbuttoning their coats, revealing simple shirts of the same dark tone. To finish the process, they had to detach the collars in their entirety, which appeared to be rigid in structure and made of a solid cylindrical frame. The children left the sheathed swords in a neat pile and took off their gloves as well, now boring into McCarter’s soul with wide, perceptive eyes.
The children appeared to be roughly ten years old, looking too different to be related by blood but standing so close together they might as well have been siblings. Though fairly thin, they weren’t malnourished – on the contrary, the Stargazers were healthy and exceptionally fit.
But one important detail caught the General’s attention – the glint of metal grafted into the back of each child’s head, part of an implant visible on the upper half of the neck, connected directly to the spine and skull. He shuddered to imagine the possible damage caused by the surgery or the potential side effects these invasive devices could bring in the long run. Allister Ford was known to be neither subtle nor careful with his cybernetic experiments.
It took some time for the children to stop glancing around their shoulders – the strange design of the collars seemed to have some sort of purpose in regards to their psychic abilities – but the General was happy to know that they warmed up to being vulnerable around him.
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“Now look, I need to make a certain call. You can do whatever you want, just don’t enter this office or leave the quarters. Fridge, couch, bathroom – all yours.”
They did the glance again, and now he could catch snippets of “whatever we want?” and “all ours?” among the excited murmuring. They seemed to be trying to agree on something. Finally, one of the girls stepped forward, a red stripe on her shirt revealing her to be Rose.
“Thank you for your kindness, Director-General McCarter,” she declared in an excessively polite yet deeply sincere tone, making an exaggerated bow. The other children whispered sporadic suggestions into her ears. “We will be good and… – yes? oh, yes – and won’t do anything bad. Master Ford does not do nice things very often. We… – hm, yea? okay, okay – we like you, already.”
McCarter laughed for the first time since about three weeks ago. The whole message seemed to be the common consensus among the Stargazers, delivered through Rose. His trained eye couldn’t miss the fact that she appeared to be the leading force of this unorthodox quartet, always standing at the front and acting as the face of the group.
“Off you go then, just be careful.”
The Stargazers slipped away through the door as one cohesive unit, possessing the same elegance in their step that they showed on the field of battle. Now alone in his personal office, the General let out a deep sigh full of oh so many conflicting emotions. First things first, he took out his work-issued mobile phone and dialled the Meister-General directly through the encrypted military channels the device had been specially modified to access.
While waiting for a response, he accessed the facility’s security cameras through his PC to take a glance at what the children were doing in his quarters. Rose found the television remote and was flicking away at the channels; Navy was sitting on the couch with closed eyes, relaxing or perhaps meditating; Gold was examining the various items and trinkets strewn around the general area; and Lime was in the process of raiding the food stock. The girl, to McCarter’s surprise, carefully dispensed an armful of various ingredients on the small kitchen’s table. The others promptly joined her as they all began making an entire dinner for four.
Then the call was answered, and McCarter had to divert his attention from the intriguing scene.
“Director-General McCarter?” asked a deep, rugged voice with hints of that lingering tiredness present in a person who has seen and experienced far too much for one mortal life.
“Meister-General, sir,” answered the man at once, and began telling a short, concise, and frustratingly unbiased report on Allister Ford’s newest project. By the time he was finished, his anger at the scientist’s disgusting experiments was threatening to overwhelm him once again.
“Just as expected… Well, then. Do you have a personal opinion on the situation you’d like to share, General?” asked the Meister-General, easily able to guess what his subordinate was thinking from the tone of his voice.
“I certainly do. Even if I can’t realistically change anything, I must voice my moral objections. I… I hope you don’t need a detailed explanation of what is so distressing to me.”
A short sigh could be heard from the other side of the phone, exposing a fraction of the Meister-General’s emotions before the man returned to his diplomatic tone.
“I fully understand your concerns. Allister Ford’s methods are unquestionably extreme, but they may lead to a major breakthrough in fighting Sparkwielders. This is the situation we’ve been forced into – we must take any chance we have in maximizing our capability for sustained combat. These ‘Stargazers’ may be more likely to survive a Sparkwielder confrontation than any other agent we’ve had so far.
“Even so, I have been keeping an eye on Allister’s operations for a very long time. I may have been exceptionally lenient when it comes to military research, but I won’t allow him to go too far. If I don’t see immediate and undeniable results from Project Stargazer, it will be shut down permanently.
“Either way, I will ensure they get the best chance of rehabilitation once their duty is over.”
“But they... they won’t have a real childhood, sir,” said McCarter, a touch of desperation leaking into his voice.
Tense silence enveloped the other side of the call. The Meister-General, the man in total control of the entire Kingdom of Larnach and the largest military force on the Continent, did not know how to reply. McCarter knew that even the mightiest men of the world were sometimes left despondent… but it was the ability to find a way forward that made them the people they are.
“Then you give them one,” he finally said, putting all of his authority into that one phrase – not a suggestion, but a direct order.
The call ended.
Director-General Austin McCarter put the phone down with a shaking hand and a hitched breath. Something almost like panic gnawed at the edges of his psyche, an anxiety born of concern and powerlessness. But as he cast his eyes to the PC screen and watched the Stargazers seated around the dining table, eating and laughing and bickering just like real children, something made him think that there was still a light of hope in this horrible situation.
Their innocence, their joy, their life – it was still there, and Austin had to protect it.
He forced himself to take a deep, full breath. And another one, and another, and another. And gradually, with a glimmer of optimism shining through the shroud of darkness, his fear transformed into determination. There was resolve in his heart that could shatter armoured bulwarks, the resolve of a General. With that, he dispelled his doubts at last and began considering the circumstances with a clear mind.
He had suddenly acquired an immutable moral obligation to care for a group of child soldiers whose placement in his quarters was unlikely to be temporary. Allister Ford’s previous agents were too brainwashed or feral to need anything more than a locked cell and some nutritious slop, but the children’s minds appeared to be surprisingly intact after whatever horrid techniques the scientist had subjected them to. It made sense for Allister to relegate the work of housing the underage agents to somebody else – the part of the project that required some actual human empathy.
Austin suddenly remembered his house, a place he hadn’t visited in a very, very long time. The thought unnerved him. Fort Anastasia would have to do for now.
After careful deliberation, McCarter decided to be fairly direct in his approach. He needed to learn more about their mindsets, to start distancing them from Allister, and to make them understand what kind of life they were entering. Actions spoke louder than words, but he had to start somewhere.
And so he waited just a bit more to see what they’d do after eating – which was roughly the same as before – and then entered the main room of his relatively humble quarters. The Star– no, the kids looked at him with a mix of curiosity and pragmatic assessment. He first studied their faces, determined to commit their appearances to memory.
Rose had short cherry red hair and a healthy dose of freckles; Lime had a set of cute rosy cheeks and brilliant green eyes framed by brunette hair; Navy had eyes of deep blue and jet-black hair to match; and Gold’s hair was a wiry mess of blond, his face a tad triangular in shape.
“Director-General McCarter?” spoke up Rose yet again, hesitantly yet politely, the vocal leader of the group as always. “Would you… would you like for us to prepare you a meal?”
Austin would rather like the arrangement to be the exact opposite, but the kids’ culinary abilities were, embarrassingly, quite better than his own. Of all the things Allister had drilled into their brains, cooking skills was one that the General did not anticipate.
“No, thanks. I’ll be fine. And just call me Austin. Could you sit down for a moment, please?”
The children obeyed without a moment’s hesitation, gathering on the couch. McCarter crouched down in front of them, steeling himself for the following conversation.
“I need to ask all of you a question. What do you… think of Allister Ford?”
The kids did the Glance and the Murmur, leaning close and quietly conversing with each other in a tightly-knit circle. It took a rather long time for them to arrive at a consensus.
“You’re nicer than him,” finally declared Rose in a succinct and fairly tactful answer. Not necessarily ‘better’, just ‘nicer’.
“And… do you want to know why?”
They all nodded in unison, watching Austin with an even deeper gaze than usual. He spent some time pondering his following words, determined to phrase the message perfectly.
“Because I care about you, and he does not. He only sees you as soldiers, but I see you as people. You deserve to live just like regular children, no matter the duties you have on the battlefield.”
“Live?” inquired Lime, tilting her head in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”
“Laugh, play, and have fun, mostly. Things that kids of your age usually do, instead of… well, serving in the military.”
“That.. doesn’t make sense…” said Rose, her face scrunched in thought. “We were trained to battle Sparkwielders, to protect the Continent, and nothing more. We can’t have things like that. It’s… just a waste of time!”
“Nobody wanted to take us away from the orphanage,” added Navy with a harsh voice and a frigid expression, “nobody needed children like us! But Master Ford took us in. He shaped us into something useful, something with a mission. He gave us purpose, gave our lives meaning!”
Tensions were rising rapidly. Even though such a mindset had most surely been ingrained into their minds by Allister, it appeared to be agonizingly accurate. He wouldn’t have needed to feed them lies if he could just wield the heavy truth.
“If we don’t complete our mission,” continued Gold, echoing Navy’s words, “we’ll end up back at the orphanage. Nobody needs kids anymore, nobody needs us when we’re not Stargazers!”
“I do,” suddenly said Austin with the kind of voice one has when they’re on the verge of tears, “and the world needs you too! You don’t need to be soldiers all the time, okay? I– you deserve to have normal lives as well! The crisis won’t last forever, and you’ve all got futures ahead of you. T-this… this isn’t all that you have to be.”
It took every last bit of willpower and resolve for McCarter not to crack under the immense pressure, barely fighting off the tumultuous waves of emotion crashing against his mind. He knew full well he wouldn’t be a General at the impossibly young age of twenty-four if he wasn’t capable of holding an iron grip on his thoughts and feelings.
He watched the kids carefully, waiting to see what they’d do. As with functionally every other topic, they began discussing it among themselves. They seemed to be quite mature for their age, possibly because their innate childlike behaviour had been repressed. But even so, they couldn’t arrive at a conclusion on this issue.
“This is… confusing,” announced Rose. “W-we… don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to,” replied Austin with a comforting tone. “It’ll make sense with time. I promise.”
But then, instead of saying something, the kids leaned forward and looked straight into McCarter’s eyes. Unlike the previous times, he was almost certain that they were somehow studying his very soul. In the end, whatever they saw there was seemingly satisfactory to them.
“O-okay. I… I think I trust you, A-Austin.”
“Me too,” said Lime.
“I do too,” added Navy.
“Yeah,” finished Gold.
With that, the General could feel a rather significant weight be lifted from his shoulders. This was just the beginning, but an excellent start nonetheless.
“Well then,” began McCarter, standing up and reflexively straightening his cap before realizing that he never actually took it off. He froze up awkwardly in the middle of the action, holding it by the peak, a look of absolute dumbstruck confusion on his face. “Oh,” he said in an entirely deadpan tone. “I should probably take that off.”
As dubious as the objective comedic value of the moment may have been, the ensuing melodic choir of laughter from the kids was just about the best thing he’s heard in his entire life.
----------------------------------------
The General soon discovered the children’s idea of ‘play’ – physical exercise and intense combat training. They conducted entire battles in his living room without leaving as much as a scratch on anything that wasn’t their own swords. They seemed to be genuinely enjoying the process, sparring with each other while exercising an incredible degree of self-control.
He couldn’t help but feel impressed from a practical standpoint. The ‘military prodigy’ part of him knew the Stargazers were some of, if not the strongest fighters of the Continent, but that notion did not contradict the part that saw them as nothing more than misguided kids.
The harsh truth was that they would never be true children nor true soldiers. By their nature, the Stargazers were some of both at the same time, and Austin had to work around that. They were fairly capable of handling their ‘soldier’ sides, so he had the role of catering to their ‘child’ sides. He was definitely not looking forward to the time when those razor-sharp swords would cut through human flesh, but he had to be ready for it nonetheless.
As the day was coming to a close, McCarter decided to get the kids to bed. He didn’t know the details of whatever schedule Allister Ford had been running them through, and he certainly wasn’t going to adhere to it either way. Upon deciding that 2100 hours was a fairly appropriate time for them to rest, he led the children to his bedroom, fully willing to concede it in favour of the couch.
“This is the bed,” he said, pointing at a luxurious king-size sea of fluffy bliss that was definitely too large for his lonesome but perfect for a squad of kids. “All yours.”
The children didn’t even say anything this time. They blinked once-twice-thrice at him with utter disbelief, and then promptly swarmed over the huge bed, indulging in its rather expensive comfort.
Although the General led a fairly ascetic lifestyle, he occasionally fell prey to whimsical fancies, sprucing up his bland quarters one neat object at a time – from comfortable furniture to random trinkets. He was now exceptionally glad for all these items that transformed the place into something even remotely befitting of four children, but was already considering further, more directed improvements.
“This is awesome!” exclaimed Gold with a look in his eyes that was so adorable it almost made the General forget that he didn’t even have legal guardianship of the kids. It mostly likely belonged to Allister – who probably ‘adopted’ them under a false identity fabricated by the shadiest sections of the Larnachian government – an egregious flaw that Austin was determined to correct as soon as possible.
Their soldier status, however, was likely left undecided. By necessity, the Stargazers’ nature was to be a ‘black ops’ unit under the direct supervision of the Meister-General, unknown to the public and invisible to the law. The whole situation was morbid and extremely illegal, but the Sparkwielder crisis called for desperate measures. It was one of many ten-layers-of-classified projects that would eventually be shut down and covered up, buried away from the public eye for the rest of time. Austin just had to play his role in the spectacle and ensure that the children wouldn’t become victims of their circumstances… any more than they already had, anyway.
But thinking ahead could only get him so far. The kids were already snugly placed in the ridiculously large bed, seemingly accustomed to sleeping close together. He wished them good night, but they fell asleep so quickly that he didn’t even leave the room before it happened. Looking upon their peaceful faces, looking not a single bit like the ruthless assassins they were trained to be, Austin turned off the lights and quietly retreated to his office.
There was much work to be done.
When the blazing sun is gone
When he nothing shines upon
Then you show your little light
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night