Chapter 3

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- Their own damn fault. - lively expressed George, hitting his hand on the dining table. - They were told to wait for us, nothing else, and they disobeyed a direct order! That’s a recipe for disaster, even a rookie knows that.

- Maybe they tried to play heroes, claim credit for success. - calmly replied Arthur, burying his sight in a dimly lit cigarette, gently tapping down its ash on the floor before stomping it with his foot. - Maybe they thought it was safe to move. Hell, I don’t know, George. - he moved his hand back to his lips, taking a deep breath, lighting up the tobacco again - Either way, my prayers are with them.

- Your prayers mean nothing to the fallen, Campbell. - he straightened his back, looking directly at Arthur’s face. I could not tell if he was satisfied with the answer he received, but that was the least of my concerns.

We were back at our base, just two or three dozen miles away from our last area of operations. Nothing extraordinary happened on our way back, yet nobody felt the urge to speak, not even me. We spent hours in silence, each and every one of us taking a longer while to comprehend the events that occurred not so long ago. The sun set just as we arrived in our new home, giving us an opportunity to walk in a soothing, warm light which escaped the numerous windows of several tall buildings. I welcomed the change, still reminiscent of the battlefield’s stress which emanated from the otherwise peaceful landscapes. In the field, every beautiful, green tree could have a deadly man behind it. Here in our base, every atrocious, plain white building had a friendly face near it. I felt safer in Lionheart. I could finally relax.

Despite the darkness around us, the hour was still young, the bright sun only setting and giving its way to the gloomy moon due to the still early spring. It was time to rest. We slowly made our way to the mess hall, illuminated by various orange-tinted lights, and sat around one of multiple same old tables which reminded me of a picnic ones, except heavily worn out. The conversation between us soon started, livened up by strangers from other teams enthusiastically discussing their day. They did not discuss war nor their kills like I expected them to - they conversed about life, comic books, they talked about their past or families. It felt unnatural to me. I still could not get the grim image out of my head, I still could not think about the few I killed with no second thought. I wondered how they could forget about everything so easily, like the war was over or never started. Maybe they were faking it. Maybe that’s what ‘acting’ meant.

- Hey, what do you make with all this? - George turned over to me, staring me down with his eyes almost closed, likely to be judging me. He wanted an answer to his question, but I did not want to provide it. I wanted to be like the others and forget about today, not delve further into it.

- I don’t even have an opinion. - I answered, viewing him with a corner of my eye. Sweet and simple. Hoped that would be enough for him.

- You gotta have an opinion! - he continued his assault relentlessly - I mean-

- You know what I think? - I cut into his word, raising my hand alongside a glass filled with liquor, then turning my head towards him - This thing busts my throat better than whatever mop water they had up north.

A short silence fell on our table as I took a small sip from my glass before setting it back on the table with a loud thump. George opened his mouth to say something, but Jean was already ahead of him.

- Your ability to consume alcoholic beverages is inordinate. - he mentioned, pointing his finger at the empty cup sitting in front of me - Have you ever wondered about the hazards it provides to your health?

- Uh, yeah. Every day of my life. - I answered with a note of hesitation in my voice, surprised by his question before filling my cup again. He nodded his head in response, but did not pry his purple-tinted eyes off of me, switching his unsubtle gaze between mine and George’s face. The feeling of anxiety returned, even if the source was much less threatening this time. To my rescue came Kate with her new topic which caused everyone to move their focus over to her.

- By the way, has anyone seen Beatrice? She doesn’t seem to be here.

- She’s probably back in the barracks, trying to cry herself to sleep. - said George with a visible smile, almost like he enjoyed the thought - Did you see her? She shook so damn hard, like she was stuck in a freezer. - He hunched over again, squinting his eyes a bit - I told you, Campbell. You and David raised a church mouse instead of a warrior by going easy on her. What is she good to us?

- Shut it, Vlandeers. - Arthur answered, shaking his cigarette in an attempt to get the ash off again. - Just because your parents couldn’t love you doesn’t mean we need to apply the same treatment that you had to everyone.

- What is it you don’t understand? A soldier incapable of killing is nothing but dead weight to the team. She can’t hold back her goddamned emotions and lets them rule her!

And there it was again. Of course he had to turn the topic back to war. Like he could not enjoy a moment of peace. Was conflict his only way to cope with existence? I tried to understand, but it proved to be a task beyond my comprehension, even after taking another shot.

- God, can you cut yourself with those thoughts? - Arthur chuckled, shaking his cigarette even harder, paying little attention to George.

- Arthur, I hate to admit it, but he’s right. - Kate said, pitching into the conversation with a rather frustrated look on her face - Even Jenny’s got more spirit than her. I expected something different, seeing how they’re both the same height.

- Stop picking on people more than your size… - I muttered under my nose, but I noticed she heard my words clearly. If looks could kill, I would drop dead just then. What a way to go, thought, turned into stone by a budget medusa.

- Actually, yeah. - Arthur threw his cigarette across the room, clearly unable to use it again before looking at me - What do you make of Beatrice, Eliza? You two seemed to have a great time previously.

- Define “great time”. We talked. Once or twice.

- You know, she’s been a little scared to talk ever since George - he stopped to look at the unamused man of muscle, Arthur’s eyes widening just like his lips - started existing... That is a pretty long time, and since then, she usually shuts down each time someone starts talking in her general direction.

- So you’re saying her speaking to me is one in a lifetime achievement?

- Not really, but feel free to consider it as such.

I returned a smile to him and poured more bitter alcohol from the tall, green bottle to my glass before speaking. - I get where she’s coming from. Nobody is born a murderer. She just takes the sight of death worse than we do.

- Way worse. - added George in a tired tone, extending his arm towards my bottle, just out of his reach. Jean picked it up and passed it along before I could prevent it, however.

- Yeah. I don’t mind her being a part of us, but I do mind her behavior. If she decides to panic during combat, she will make it worse. Someone might die because of her while she is the one to save lives. Irresponsibility can be a killer.

- And here I was thinking you would agree with me on something. - Arthur took out another cigarette and lit it up with his lighter, holding it between his fingers, wishing to smoke again. Suddenly, a somehow familiar voice sounded behind my back, directing its words towards Campbell.

- You not gonna mention her other traits, Sarge Camp? - I turned around to look at the source of this question. I saw a grey eyed man, not unlike George, slightly more overweight and way younger, with his soft face having turned red from drinking, his buzz cut leaving it on display. Without invitation, he sat down next to Jean and leaned his body on his shoulder which took plenty of space on the creaking table. Jean moved his head back, probably smelling his breath.

- I’m a gentleman, Felix! Not in front of the ladies. - answered Arthur, setting his hand on the table as well. Suddenly, I remembered the man. Felix Durand. The famous drunk from Squad Seven, and coincidentally, our “roommate”. There was only one topic he was able to talk about, therefore I could not say I enjoyed his company. I was really touched by Jean's presence which erected a barrier between me and him. It made the situation way more comfortable.

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- Of course you are. - he said, seating himself comfortably, before lowering his head and raising his hand up. - Apologies, guys, but I can’t take Madden anymore! Him and Wasp are the worst when it comes to providing a good talk. - he moved his fingers around, using his free hand to point his finger at Kate, winking at her with a wide smile - Did you know you can make concrete mix a part of your personality if you talk about it often enough?

Kate unexpectedly started laughing, the effects of hard liquor we’ve all been drinking starting to kick in. She tried to get a sentence out of her mouth, but was not able to, mixing up incomprehensible gibberish instead. The mood shifted and allowed us to relax without needing to remember today’s events, it made me believe this mess hall was the whole world. I did not have to experience anything else, I could stay here forever. It did not come to last, however, as Felix forwarded an unsettling message. Our time in Lionheart would end soon as we were to move forward with the rest of the army, leave the relative safety of our walls and head over to the wilderness and mobile camps. Such was life - we could not stay in one place forever if the front moved. Felix, however, seemed enthusiastic about it, judging by how much life he put into telling us about our upcoming voyage, his excitement fueled by either alcohol or genuine thirst for action and adrenaline. With this knowledge, we headed back to our beds, awaiting what was to come.

* * *

The next day, a terrible headache clouded my perception, but I was otherwise unharmed. A small victory. After our usual roundup and exercise, we had some free time away from action. There was not much to do as we were told to await orders and most of the personnel were gone out in the field. I waddled around the streets, trying to find myself a meaning. Arthur was gone somewhere, most probably taking on his officer duties, while Kate was assigned a tiring task of repairs, trying to get our truck back in working condition. Beatrice was probably tending to the wounded in our base. Everyone was busy in some way. Everyone but me. I usually enjoyed slacking off, but this time was different. No new book to read, no new people to talk to, not even a mirror to look at. Just me and the same atrocious buildings that I could barely stand looking at, even though I spent years staring at my never changing hometown and never got bored. Maybe it would take time for me to get used to it, or perhaps a temporary change of scenery was what I needed.

During my pointless wandering, I was surprised to be proven wrong as I saw our medic alone, sitting on the grassy ground with a piece of white paper in her left hand and a short pencil in the right one, just like when I first met her. She seemed not to notice me, as usual. I used this opportunity to approach her and tell her about our new orders. I stood right above her before opening my mouth.

- Shouldn’t you be helping the doctors in the hospitals? - I asked, attempting to see if I would bring her attention away from the paper. I quickly succeeded in my task as she lifted her head up to face me, her large eyes staring me down.

- Hey! - she greeted me after a short moment - Doctors said they had enough help. There’s almost no wounded here, you know? Everyone already left for the east. - she returned her sight to her sheet, drifting her pencil across it. So she knew we were relocating. I stayed silent for a moment, trying to think of my next move. When it came to actual talking, I was not that great. Always... overthinking.

- How do you know we’re going further into Galvania? You weren’t at our meeting yesterday. - I asked, quickly placing my hands on my hips.

- My sister’s told me… She was among the ones who moved. - she said before looking at me again - Besides, that’s just how it was going to be, right? Nobody would drive back here each day, some people could get bored! - a slight smile appeared on her face before dissipating quickly after I nodded, acknowledging her response, as she started explaining herself. - Yesterday, I- I had to clear my mind, spend some time alone, you know? It was my first time doing… It, and-

- I don’t need to know, Beatrice. Calm down. - I interrupted her, feeling the unease in her voice. She was obviously uncomfortable giving me an answer, stuttering every few words, having only calmed down after I stopped her thoughts, apologizing silently. She could be in shock after the previous day, even though I believed the army should have prepared her for it. Hell, she was our medic. She should have been the last person to panic. Or perhaps she was making up a reason for her absence. It would not surprise me greatly. Everyone had their secrets. It was best not to dig into it and change the topic. But to what?

- Are you drawing our base? - a subject appeared as I observed her slightly shaking hand which she tried to control. - This place looks like… Trash. Why bother with it?

- I don’t mind what I’m doing, as long as it takes my mind away from reality. - she bit the end of her pencil before returning to work - And it doesn’t look that bad. Just look at it! - I turned my head to my left and stared at a blank, white wall made out of bricks, coated in plaster, only sporting a few windows with wooden, brown frames, standing above irregularly grown dry grass and the same pathways as everywhere else. I could not see any appeal in them. In just a moment, I felt a soft punch to one of my legs as the artist girl extended her arm, holding a sketch. I reluctantly kneeled next to her and grabbed the piece of paper to give it a closer look. Even though it was just half-finished and in just one color, I could spot differences. The grass seemed longer and more lush, giving it the impression of growing wildly, the building had more detail, its walls cracked and covered in what seemed like vines, and the sky was less cloudy - or maybe she hadn’t gotten to drawing it yet. Such an artistic depiction, shame I could not understand it.

- That’s not how it really looks. - I returned the drawing to her with a slow turn of my hand, giving her a slightly confused gaze.

- It doesn’t need to. This is a sketch, maybe even a drawing, but not a photo. I can shape it however I want. I don’t need to follow reality which I see every single day. - I gave her a smile after listening. I could not help but feel that there could be some reason in this insanity. Everyone had their own ways to move their minds elsewhere, less or more healthy. I saw her return my smile, shyly moving her lips before speaking once more. - I’m glad to be able to have someone to talk to, you know? Others usually stay away, or bad mouth me for… Being here.

- Any idea why? - I asked openly, slightly curious about their supposed aversion, but mostly just as ways of continuing the talk. Beatrice seemed out of touch with the real world, but she was not off-putting by any means. I did not care if I received an answer or not, however - I was not looking for a solution for her. Before she was able to respond, however, we were interrupted by someone’s return.

- Eliza! - I turned around to see Arthur standing in the distance, beckoning to me. - David wants a word with you too.

- We’ll talk later. Be seeing you. - I told Beatrice, standing up and heading over to our sergeant. Before I left, I could see her sigh in relief as she got back to work, raising her right hand as a goodbye. I did not give it much thought. As soon as I got to Arthur, he turned around and led me to our captain. I decided to ask him about the reason for my sudden summoning before we got there, however. - What does David want to do with me? We barely spoke last days, did he suddenly remember my name?

- He has something for both of us, apparently. - he replied, giving me a quick glance - And I doubt it’s a treat. Probably orders and stuff. You do know you’re second in command, right after me, right? Guess he wants you to know.

- Yeah. Unfortunately. - I replied, squinting my eyes for a moment, hearing Arthur chuckle under his nose. My rank felt both like a burden and something to brag about, and I could not decide which one laid heavier on me. On one hand, I had a better pay, more respect and recognition from the others. I enjoyed it. I hated being a nobody between all the famous people, this position brought me a bit of fame, at least among my squad, while I had no more true responsibilities. Yet on the other, if something were to happen to Arthur, I would be put in his position on the battlefield, have the same hardships and authority. I did not want it. I feared it, just as I was afraid I would not be competent enough. I did not believe in it happening, though - it was my task to protect them. I would not let such a thing become reality. Nobody would not be harmed with me around. Right?

* * *

We were here. The same dull office that I visited days ago, standing by the same tangerine halls. We got in, one after another, to see with Wymond. He was sitting in his chair again, his hands crossed in front of his face, his gaze stuck on his desk which was empty of papers this time, space on it taken only by a desk lamp and two… Things, reminiscent of bricks. Arthur cleared his throat audibly, bringing us to captain’s attention.

- Good morning. - he started off on the same polite note as when I first met him before turning towards me - I apologize that we couldn’t get to know each other, madam, but I was… Unable to leave this office. As usual in an officer’s life.

- Don’t mind it. - I replied with no second thought - I don’t, at least. Why was I called?

- You two were called. - he corrected me before continuing - As you know, we will be moving further into enemy territory later today. After we arrive there, however, we are expected to await immediate deployment. You know what that means?

- Hold on - said Arthur, raising one of his fingers as his eyelids lowered - We were fighting Galvies just yesterday. They expect us to fight them again tomorrow?

- We want this war to be over as soon as possible. - David put his hands down on the desk and straightened his back, looking straight into Arthur’s eyes - We cannot afford to wait. Your team hasn’t been wounded during your last patrol, am I right?

- Yes, but-

- Then we believe you will do just fine.

And there went my initial assumption. I was almost convinced David was not one of the bureaucrats. Almost. As soon as I heard those words, I had no doubt in my head he was just like them. Heart of stone.

- But there is something that our researchers came up with. - Wymond continued his talk and pushed the pair of bricks towards us with a smirk on his tired, yet youthful face. Arthur picked one of them up, just as I did. - I think it will help you greatly in the field. Please, help yourselves. Those are radios. Smaller and more comfortable than the traditional ones, but just as useful. Easy to use, too.

- How is this supposed to help us? - Arthur asked, shaking the device next to his ear. - And why us?

- You won’t need to reach for Kate each time you need to relay something. It is an asset of great importance! And it is being distributed to all officers in the field. Non-commissioned ones too. You are no exception.

Time passed as he explained every detail of our new toys enthusiastically before moving onto our next destination. As I expected, we were going to live in an unnamed mobile camp which moved along with the front line, live in large, cold tents. The risk was present, but as he previously stated, we could not wait. Perhaps they were right, I thought. Maybe if the war ended quickly, more deaths would be prevented. I was not a strategist to know it. We did not hear much about our new tasks, however, as we were told we would come to know everything once we arrived. After our conversation ended, we left the office and hastily headed outside, our minds visibly conflicted with Union’s command ideas. Arthur spoke first as we were on our way back to barracks, passing the same places all over again.

- “I believe you can do it”, my ass. The guy sitting in his chair all day knows what his men can do. Hey, got a theory. Want to know why they gave us these? - he asked me, holding the radio in his hand, giving it a shake - Because I don’t believe this is standard issue.

- Shoot.

- Kate. It’s no secret she’s attending Captain David’s lectures in his office, or that she’s his favorite puppy. Bet she begged him to make her stop carrying that huge talking box on her back.

- I did not see her leave for the administration building. Ever. - I replied, sliding a finger through the device, feeling a texture I instantly recognized. - Are you sure these aren’t just… New?

- Then tell me, who the hell carried those with them? This is the first time I see it, and so do you. This has to be experimental.

- You’ve got a point. As for the radios, though, do you feel it? - I asked Arthur, raising the brick up for him to see.

- Yeah. Made out of Cyberian. No other way to make it this small. Wonder if those rocks are going to make me grow a third eye, or get superpowers after, how eggheads say it? Prolonged exposure?

Cyberian, of course. The crystals we fought for, yet barely saw in our lives. We were lab rats for a new experiment of the Union, thanks to Kate or maybe just a sheer chance. It could not get better. I only hoped these radios would work as intended.

Time passed as we spent our last moments in Lionheart. In just a few hours, we had to leave for our new home, get used to ever changing surroundings. I knew I would not miss this place and its atrocious aesthetics. I did not even get time to get attached to it. It was a good thing. I knew I should not do so. Others proved to be slightly more sentimental, but still managed to leave without a shed of a tear. I only wondered what we would come to see in our new home - a better life or constant fear.