Lights Out (24)

-1651 Military Hours

It takes a significant amount of time for Angel team to reach our position. A quick glance is given to acknowledge their arrival as I turn back to watch the settlement wind up on its activity.

The initial shock from our presence has completely worn off it seems.

"Glad you could make it," I greet my counterparts, keeping eyes on the inhabitants, "...so what did you guys find?"

"They've got several ships lined up at those docks, looks to be made with outdated construction techniques. But design wise they're really good, they've got an eye for details I kid you not."

I face the approaching fireteam, feeling the need to comment on my suspicion, "Now that's unexpected..." If they could make ships that are able to induce a praise from one of us, why the hell are their houses so dull in comparison.

Brainstorming for the next several seconds, I rifle my head for an answer. It didn't take long for my logic driven mind to formulate a reasonable explanation.

"You know what this implies right? " I pause to add some suspense, turning to the rest of my men, "we're only looking at a local population of around a hundred and fifty, give or take a few."

"The evidence is there," Narkis drags out his words with a thoughtful outlook, "based on our info, it's clear we've made contact with an multi-Island spanning civilization."

"Not a surprise really, I've heard the researchers kind of predicted that," Douglas points out, "this sector is an archipelogo after all."

"Well, we've confirmed their initial predictions, I'd say we've got this mission in the bag," James voices out.

"Not quite," I stop my teammate from getting any ideas, "new orders from me, we're not leaving just yet."

This significantly changes the parameters of the mission, we have to find out their exact range.

Knowing the full extent of their reach is something that needs to be done, I realize the researchers would want that in addition to our original assessment.

"Right now we need our own drone squadron up in the air," I inform my team, "I'll input my orders to them."

The current instructions on the larger drones above cannot be overwritten, I don't have authority to do so, which sucks. I will have to make do with the team's inventory.

For the sake of flexibility, this issue needs to be brought up the chain of command at a later time.

"Got it," Robert presents his rucksack to me. I remove the secure flaps on the side pockets, my hands digging within for the compact Black Viper UAVs.

I look towards Narkis, fingers still searching, "What about your drones sir?"

One of his men replies on his behalf, "They're already up and about for quite some time, tailing several ships heading away from Visegrad Island."

"Ok noted."

Within moments, I fish out three drones and power them up. "Here we go." Keeping me updated on the surroundings, my eyes carefully watch the peripheral as I program the drones with my specifications.

Standard altitude has been set, and so are my orders on which Islands to prioritise first. The computer intelligence on these mechanical bad boys will take care of the rest, I'm counting on them.

Hopefully the high altitude setting will prevent another Alpha One-Fiver incident. There is a slight tinge of worry as I watch them proceed higher into the grey sky.

With any luck, the coming storm won't be too hard on the drones, as under none combat situations, they aren't considered expendable. Each Black Viper unit costs several hundred thousand Dollars, but each penny was definitely was worth it.

I'll say one thing about the Brits, they make excellent high-end equipment. This particular batch still had the Union Jack on their battery compartments, serving as a reminder of British assistance to the exploratory cause of the United Nations through the Rift.

All too soon they are nothing more than a retreating speck on the southern horizon, having found their place amongst the overpowering hue of grey that is the sky.

"Can you guide us to that oddity your men found?" I questioned the Isreali born team leader, averting my eyes from the increasingly dreary sight above.

Immediately decoding my subtle undertone of urgency, Narkis answers with a short string of words, "Yes I can."

He motions his team to our position, getting all three of his men to acknowledge my new course of action.

Robert nudges me on the elbow, "If we go to the docks, we'll never make it back by early evening," He stated as a matter of fact, getting a nod out of me, "that's gonna put us behind the intended schedule."

"I know," I remark, feeling reassured knowing I'm not the only one thinking about the consequence.

A wide sweep with my eyes is done to discern the readiness of both teams. The observation also indicates to me everyone is fully aware of the deviation from the game plan.

Base camp will need to be informed of our intentions of staying a little longer. "You know what to do Sergeant," I use a strict tone, wanting communications to be sent back as soon as possible.

"Of course," He mutters, attention focused to his radio.

In a single file everyone proceeds south, crossing the various structures which I assume to be mostly houses. Silence is rigidly enforced as we trek closer to the southern shores, collectively enjoying the peace it gave along the way.

I watch over my designated sector to the left, doing my part to ensure the security of the eastern flank. A trickle of light escapes through some of the windows on those houses, some containing curious onlooking silhouettes.

For the next couple of minutes, the clouds choke out the last of the sun's yellow rays, painting the landscape with a final air of melancholy. Hopefully base camp battens down the hatches, this one looks heavy.

Distant murmurs of thunder resonate throughout the sky, helping the cold winds strengthen my perception of the journey being pretty bleak.

But whatever the case, I suppose this is what I signed up for. The sense of adventure, good or bad that will serve as the fuel to add meaning to my life.

I am genuinely satisfied with what I've become, not many people can say the same. The warm smile on my face, although hidden from the world is enough to negate the cold effects of the weather.

======
-1731 Military Hours

I breath a sigh of relief as a large swath of dark blue enters my vision, this is the destination. From what I can see, there are three buildings of foreign design in this final stretch of land, where the sand marks the beginning of the open ocean.

Chiseled stone make up the sidewalks, with shimmering gems of crystals patterning its edges every so often, bright enough to serve as guiding lights in spite of the weather's conditions. These things connected all of the buildings to one another, as well as to the docks.

It almost seems like a separate outpost, when factoring in the distance between this area and the main settlement up north.

Rain pounded away at the landscape as an arc of lightning crackles overhead. Both teams tread onwards, treating the storm as nothing more than a minor convenience, not worth an afterthought.

Water seeps into my gloves through the small openings on my wrist, soaking my palms as I try to assess the new terrain through the murky fog of rainfall.

A flicker of danger registers as my eyes come across a hauntingly familiar sight.

"Here it is Lieutenant, this is the oddity we've taken notice off!" Narkis chimes in through the bellowing winds.

"Damn..." I simply mutter out of a mixture of confusion and shock, my spatial awareness drifting away momentarily.

Right before my eyes is a perfectly sculpted figurine, lacking any flaws whatsoever. I move for a closer look, intent on finding out its identity.

Whoever this person is, she must be an extremely important person to warrant this life sized construction. From the bottom of her toes to the apparent tiara on her willowy hair, every part of her is made from those magic inducing crystals I've come to loathe.

This thing is situated in a crossroads, where all four sidewalks meet. It is clear the figurine was built on this location so others will see it on a daily basis.

And just like the previous encounter with the statue up north several hours ago, I can't help but feel something is glaringly wrong with it. My instincts don't get triggered without good reason.

"Jerome, I have incoming." I hear someone call my name, traces of urgency etched in.

"There's a whisper by one of the drones from Castle Team, they said movement's been sighted along their position." Robert informs me, voice progressively more serious by the second.

Knowing the report is incomplete, he goes on to add additional information, "They've been given orders to not pursue. The unknown contacts skimmed past them and the researchers, and are heading directly for base camp, ETA is around thirty eight minutes."

Thirty eight minutes, that is too goddamn quick. The only way to make that time on foot is to sprint all the way. Given the distance between Castle's location to base camp, something is up. I wish I knew more, if only to ease the pang of worry.

I head to my Communications Specialist, the weight of my words leaving no room for maneuver. "Is drone command aware of the situation?"

"As far as I'm told, yes they are. All regular UN squads are on high alert, Fullerton's orders back at base camp." I take Robert's words as they are, trusting them to be facts.

Deciding to put my worries on hold, I focus my thoughts on more pressing matters. As a team leader, I have responsibilities to shoulder and I mustn't forget that.

"Come on," I walk towards the nearest building, taking note of the sign above the welcoming entrance, motioning everyone to follow suit.

For longer than it is necessary my eyes remain glued to that sign. Sporting the recognizable shape of a cup and a bed, it didn't take much to figure out the function of this building.

'Maybe we can take shelter inside.'

With my armor drenched in rainwater, I grab the wooden knob with a mindset ready for anything. The outside is cold and the downpour is only just beginning to show its true colours.

"Stay sharp, be ready for what's inside," I suggested, preparing to spearhead the way through the entrance.

I receive a whisper from one of my men, "Got it."

Everyone forms up, ready to proceed at a moment's notice. A signal is all that is needed, and with me at the door, it was a given I would be just that.

A twist from my wrist and a shove, is all it takes for muscle memory to take over.

The pseudo-breech is then executed through a series of well organized footwork, ensuring maximum coverage of the interior. Our weapons are only slightly raised, bearing in mind the Rules of Engagement.

The internal layout of the building is consistent with an inn of sorts, tables and chairs dot the entire place, with a counter to the front manned by several people. Crystal ornaments pattern the ceiling in a grid-like fashion, adding a subtle touch of grandeur to the place while also casting a warm hue of yellow. Undoubtedly they function as decorative lighting.

My eyes dart to each of the locals, getting a head count on their numbers. Seven individuals, and an additional three serving on the counter. All adults, no children in visual.

Two operatives from Angel team flood in to my right, keeping that flank in check. Their stance is notably more stiffer than before, as they comb the area with their hidden eyes.

The observation, didn't go unnoticed. And soon the locals mirror our action, too abruptly in my opinion. Whatever their thoughts are of us.... I can't discern it from their eyes alone.

As of this moment, the tension runs through an ice age, with both sides of staring each other down, different in every way imaginable.

Most went to me, while a select few went past my shoulders and to the rest of my team behind.

It finally strikes me in the chest just how different they look compared to a human. These minuscule differences had a profound effect on my moral concept of person-hood.

The notion of individuality, someone who matters most in his or her own right, I see that in their eyes, all of them. They have a soul without a doubt, behind every pair of eyes is a person.

They've lived their entire lives surrounded by the ocean. Maybe to them, the concept of warfare is impossible to imagine.

As far as my unit's assessment is concerned, these people are of no threat. Letting my eyes wander off to the distance, I spot a rather secluded table at the nearest corner, large enough to fit ten people.

The area will suffice, the seats look comfortable....comfortable.

I chuckle under my helmet, never thought I'd come across the word during Operation Splinter Shield. Life does like to throw me a curve ball every now and then, most of them just little snippets of unexpectancy.

I bring out the datapad from my rucksack, muttering a sigh of relief at the dry state of it. A waterproof rucksack will pay dividends to an operative in a field deployment, given time.

My comrades settle in on the cozy seats, ignoring the glances from the locals. The spotlight is on us, and it didn't take long before a female walks up to us.

"...Eh...." She seems unwilling to approach any closer.

On her left hand, is a white feather dipped in black ink. On her right, something vaguely resembling a wooden clipboard.

There is no way in hell I'm getting anything here. The same sentiments are shared across both teams, leaving the young woman unanswered.

Eight pairs of hidden eyes glared at her own emerald ones. Coming to terms with our attitude, she struts away a little disheartened, almost tripping herself on the way.

Our reaction should speak on our behalf. 'We want to be left alone'.

I turn my focus back to relevant matters.

The datapad has already linked up with my drones, three separate windows appear on screen, each containing live feeds on never before seen terrain.

Through the next hour or so, everyone watches on as the three Black Viper UAVs survey their respective islands, doing well to survive the storm's tempest.

Lighthouses, dozens of buildings, and massive ships. More structures appear, highlighted in an orange outline as dictated by on-board intelligence.

There are too many details to describe, things I've never seen before, it is all presented to everyone watching this datapad.

There was never a smile on my face, despite the wonder I felt. Forget the idea of this civilization being primitive.

It was anything but...

======

-1804 Military Hours
Visegrad Island, Base Camp.

This god forsaken weather isn't doing anything to improve my mood.

Base construction went as planned, even with the rain as it is. There isn't much that can slow down the work of the engineers.

But that notion has since been thrown to the gutter several minutes ago.

"Major, a squadron of drones have been diverted from sector D-4 to the unknown contacts. They've acknowledged the command and are now moving for intercept and observation."

I tap repeatedly on the table, observing the stale tension within the command tent, "Excellent, what is the status of the exploration teams?"

"UN Squads 3 and 1 have checked in five teams at the perimeter. All personnel accounted for, no one's gone missing." The woman manning communications informs me.

I unfold my arms to ease up the muscles, "Good." The last thing I want is another repeat of expedition six.

After a few moments, she perks up, "SOG team Castle has just reported in, research detachment Foxtrot has completed sample collection of the remains from the Behemoths."

It's about damn time those blokes finish.

"Send an American made V-280 to fetch them, tell the crew to haul their arses. I want them back to base ASAP." I point to their general position on the digital map for emphasis.

"Yes sir," Radio chatter increases as everyone performs their assigned duties. Under the controlled chaos, I walk from station to station, observing those who caught my attention.

Seconds into it, I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia. This situation is reminiscent of my younger days in SAS Intelligence.

Those were the good times.

"This is Central Command, your new designated call sign is Sea Gull, head to sector D-6 and extract ground assets in that area, over." I stop behind this particular individual, eavesdropping on the communications systems operator as he performs his task.

"Understood command," The voice replies, presumably the pilot of the Valor.

After several seconds spent typing he speaks up again, this time with a distinctive edge,"Sea Gull, you are cleared for VTOL takeoff, good luck out there, out."

I nod at the operator's sleek professionalism, internally commending him for the efficiency shown.

The minutes count down, with all regular troops on high alert. Patrols are tightened significantly, reassuring my worries about any incursions.

The UN squads better be ready for what is coming our way, they'll need to be in sync. These men come from different backgrounds and ethnicities, reminding me of what we all collectively represent.

This is an international collaboration. In New Eden, everyone here is part of a united human front. Those under my command, I care about them, British or otherwise. After all, we are a long way from home, we've got to rely on each other.

The unknowns are three minutes away. With the treeline ending soon, I will finally be able to see just what the bloody hell these contacts are.

An apprehensive tension now lingers amongst the drone operators. They will be the first to identify what's coming our way.

Fixing the beret on my head, I decide to head outside, pushing the flaps aside for my exit.

The droplets of rain echo into my ears as I step foot outside. Scores of researchers, clad in their white environmental suits greet my vision to the left.

Multiple drones soar overhead undaunted by the weather, as soldiers man their defensive positions a hundred meters away. Rifles are at the ready, their muzzles thoroughly drenched in the rain, my red beret will inevitably follow suit.

At the drop of a hat, I hear the characteristic sound of gunshots cutting through the rain.

It isn't far from my position, the engineers nearby cast worrying glances at one another.

"Major we have shots fired, " The voice urgently informs my left ear.

I hold down the button on the earpiece, "So I've noticed, have the drones identified the unknowns?" I asked, keeping my head clear.

While the situation is potentially hazardous, my heart maintains its regular momentum.

"Affirmative, it's the locals. Green clothing, armed with bows. Squad two issued warning shots."

"Tell Squad two, hold their ground. I'm going there, anything comes up tell me right away." Just the hell are these natives up to?

I whistle to get the attention of several regulars nearby, "You three over there!"

They send a salute as they look to me, noticing my insignia, "Major Fullerton sir!"

I return a curt salute, breaking the news to them afterwards, "You boys come with me, there might be a scuffle with the locals to the perimeter."

"Alright, we're with you sir!" The Sergeant of the trio asserts his confidence, determined expression hidden by the balaclava.

I spare the moment to issue a thankful nod, breaking into a full speed jog shortly after, the soldiers keeping up the pace.

A Humming Bird flies overhead, its rotors drowning out the rain briefly at its crescendo. A sidedoor remains open, revealing a door gunner.

"There they are!" I point to the distance, faded green silhouettes weaving around the trees.

The stealth helicopter from before hovers in place, angling its open side to the natives, joining the squadron of drones.

It's up to me to ensure no one botches up this contact, no one is dying on my watch.

"Squad two, status," I immediately inquire upon reaching the squad's line.

"Holding position sir, standing orders," A Corporal pauses to face me, "how should we proceed Major?"

How should we proceed? I look at the root of all this commotion.

The locals are armed for sure, but only with bows and arrows, five individuals in my visual sight.

The stalemate drags on. They start darting into the trees, testing the limits of my vision. The drones' thermal sensors catch up to their every move, keeping the friendlies in the area up to date.

They aren't leaving, just poking along the base. What do they have to gain from that?

It is then, a sudden realization strikes me in the gut....

I should have noticed this sooner. They are here for reconnaissance.

Their nimble swiftness, the cloaks that help them blend in, even the way they move. Those hints strengthen the assumption. Still, damn those Elven looking wankers for making such a fuss.

My internal monologue must have been obvious, as the Corporal in question patiently waits for a response.

"Continue holding the position and report on their movements by the minute, these fellas are only scouts. Rules of Engagement is still in effect." I reply, giving the soldier his order.

"Understood," He turns back to the natives, watching them closely with a hint of apprehension.

I rush back to the confines of the command tent, making sure the three accompanying soldiers are back to their original post along the way.

If the staff are surprised at my drenched appearance, they kept it well hidden.

"Get me in contact with Tartarus base," I declare, as water droplets run down my forearms and legs.

"Understood."

There is a shit ton of things to report on today, and that's only going to double once Desert and Angel make it back with their information from the settlement.

"Major, we're patching you in."

"I'm all ears," I remark, getting ready for the incoming transmission.

It didn't take long, and soon contact is established with the guys back on the mainland.

"Taskforce Anvil, this is Tartarus base, we read you loud and clear....."

===end===

Camaradarie, it is that quiet loyalty you see in a fellow soldier's eyes, knowing they would risk everything for you, and you will care about them enough to do the same.

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