The Assembly Hall was the largest chamber in the Royal Court proper. Used primarily for public addresses, press conferences, weddings, funeral services, coronations and any other large scale public event related to the ruling electorate. The hall was an opulent space, made of stone, wood, and concrete, all sculpted and carved into entwined images of rulers past, Lemurias's history and ornate geometric patterns. The grand altar at the front, which sat under bullet-and-bomb proof stained glass windows gave the hall the appearance of an ancient church or cathedral but the lack of any specific religious denomination in the architecture negated any connotations with particular faiths. Alongside the bowels of the Royal Court Chambers, the Assembly Hall was the most secure building in the entire city.
Marina had been in the hall only once before, as part of the military procession for Lord Willyam Suri's funeral, back when Marina had been a freshly promoted Corporal. Minister Suri's father had passed away at the age of one hundred and twelve and although the man had never been the Capital's ruler - that had fallen to his wife, Elaina - his passing had sent the whole of Equatorial District into mourning. Representatives from all the other royal families had sailed or flown in from across the continent and onlookers and mourners had formed crowds that stretched from the Assembly Hall all the way out through the Inner and Outer Courts to the fringes of the Capitals central districts. Everyone had been glued to either their datapads or the large screens that were mounted all over the city to watch the procession from beginning to end. The media had reported on it for a full ten days and Marina had caught herself on over a hundred screens in thousands of different video feeds over the course of the coverage.
She remembered being incredibly nervous; focusing on marching, keeping rhythm, holding her rifle in the correct position and seemingly using the rest of her willpower not to look at the crowds. She'd never felt more exposed in all her life. Nobody had been paying the slightest bit of attention to her of course, but with only three minor engagements under her belt, it had been the first real time she'd felt how visible her position could make her. She'd still been very green around the gills and the prospect of being scrutinised had unnerved her a great deal.
Now here she was in the hall once again. Two ranks and six years later with dozens of engagements and a handful of tours under her belt. Hundreds of kills too. She was in more physical and emotional pain than she'd ever remembered being in and she'd lost almost everything in the space of three days. She felt worn down to almost nothing. The eager, nervous soldier clutching her ceremonial rifle in nervous terror now seemed lifetimes away.
The hall was full of military and government personnel. Regents, officials and high ranking officers alike. Minister Suri stood at the altar, Heiress Suri stood nearby, next to a small cluster of Regents and Vice Regents. Keroni was among them, the rest Marina didn't know. Scattered along the raised platform were a handful of Colonels - including Renshaw - and on the Minister's immediate right stood District Admiral Thaddeus Knox, commander and overseer of the entire Capital Hopper Force. On his left, Vice Minister Powell. Despite the assembly of such distinguished and powerful people, and the presence of several vidcaster crews, the entire thing felt loose and informal. Hastily assembled. Which Marina knew it had been. It was part public address and part large scale military command meeting.
She stood among the gathered collection of specialists and military personnel that had been summoned to the chamber. The hoppers numbered a few hundred and wore a mix of combat armour, fatigues, and civilian clothes - all summoned by the alert regardless of what activity or position they'd been in the middle of. Marina studied as many rank pins as he could and couldn't see any soldier under the rank of Lieutenant Commander. She assumed then that everyone present was a ranking officer capable of overseeing command. The gathering was a show of force, a reassurance to the people watching that they were still protected and that the city was still united.
Laid out along the sides of the hall were tables of food and drink. Ration packs, hot and cold beverages, fruit and collections of simple pastries and breads had been gathered as both comfort after the crisis and necessary sustenance for those who'd been working the night through. A medical station has been set up also and after requesting painkillers and a shot of stimulants Marina had helped herself to some oat crackers and a handful of angel fruit. She didn't think her stomach could cope with much else, but she hadn't eaten since before the Swan and knew her body needed fuel. She forced what she now considered her late breakfast down with a bottle of cool water.
Minister Suri was addressing the assembled crowd. He looked worn out and from what Marina could see, a little scared, but the man maintained composure, clarity and confidence.
" - can now confirm that it is in fact an attack, the magnitude of which has never
been witnessed before. From where and by whom, we are not yet willing to disclose, nor are we willing to confirm any rumoured connection to the tider attack on First Province. Our intelligence is still sifting through evidence. Footage still needs to be assessed, simulations still need to be run but we are almost certain that this was a hostile action against our Capital. A terrorist attack designed to compromise our safety, security and way of life."
The crowd murmured slightly but there was otherwise no reaction. They were after all politicians and soldiers, the news did not surprise them. The Minister continued after a moment, letting the news sink in. More for the people watching the footage at home than those in the room.
"Our current estimates put the casualties somewhere in the region of fifteen hundred. Of that number we think that estimate is a fairly even split between hoppers and civilians alike. Those casualties have resulted from the initial explosion through to secondary injuries and the like. Again, forensics and more evidence will clarify this as we sift through the debris. The Cabinet have been working closely through the night with the rescue services who are updating all details and information pertaining to the barracks incident in real time. Our hearts are with those lost, and to those who have lost."
Marina felt a fresh wave of sadness and despair trying to rear its head and she shut it down as quickly as it came. She focused on nothing else but the gold sash of office the Minister wore, using the gently shimmering pattern as a kind of hypnotic distraction. Focusing on the man's words and not her own pain.
"Make no mistake that the Capital will be offering the fullest support to all those affected by last night. You are our people. They were our people. Brave men and women. Innocent families and children who did not deserve such horrific and senseless deaths." Minister Suri fixed his stare on the one camera that was pointed directly at him. His voice suddenly took on a different tone, more controlled, but more measured. More threatening.
"This was a warning," he said simply. "A warning that these individuals intend to unbalance our way of life. To unbalance democracy and peace. And to them I offer my own warning. You cannot win. You cannot bring down what is stronger. We are Equatorial District - nay, Equatorial Upper - our entire continent is united in the idea of progress and peace. We will not fall today. Nor tomorrow. Nor any time after that. We will protect our people, and protect the ideals that our ancestors laid down when they first set foot on this world. Thank you. Justice, Ever Forwards."
A round of applause resounded through the hall. Amongst the clapping Marina could see court guards politely escorting the media crews and vidcasters to the front entrance. The public display was done, what came next would be for the ears of the city's command and government only.
"Thank you everyone," Minister Suri continued when the cameras were clear. He raised his hand but waited patiently for the applause to die down.
Marina briefly caught eyes with Heiress Suri, she was casually scanning the crowd and noticed Marina in her position about halfway back. She smiled sadly, Marina nodded in acknowledgment. Heiress Suri too looked tired and restless, and like her father and the rest of the officials, the effort to appear refreshed and confident for the public could not hide how exhausted and anxious they were. Only Keroni looked like himself, his shrewd heavy lidded eyes taking in every word spoken and every detail in the room.
Minister Suri continued. "Given the events of the last few days, measures have to be taken until we can be sure that the threat to our home is either extinguished, or brought to justice. This will require a somewhat radical approach moving forwards, but it is important that we reassure the citizens of this great city that they are safe, and that threats like last night will not happen again. District Admiral Knox, if you will."
Minister Suri stepped aside, gesturing Knox to the platform. There was no applause, just a general sense of tensing up in the space as the officers were caught between standing at attention or remaining at ease. Some saluted, some didn't. Some straightened up, some didn't, Marina chose to remain in the position she'd settled in over the last thirty minutes - a sort of casual sideways lean that seemed to be the only way her body didn't ache. The casual nature of the assembly made protocol feel secondary.
District Admiral Knox briefly adjusted the microphone before he began speaking.
"No need for formalities, please at ease." The room relaxed. Knox was a tall, slender man in his late seventies, but still solid. Decades out of the field hadn't softened him, unlike Renshaw. His features, although bearing a warmth, were symmetrical and hard, almost like they were carved out of clay. Marina had only ever seen him in person three times, but had never gotten the chance to meet or speak with the man directly.
"The events of last night, coupled with the loss of many hopper lives among others at First Province forces us to reassess our military position in the Capital. It's been nearly a century since any external force has made a direct threat towards our way of life on our own soil. With the deliberate strike against our military forces designed to cripple our infrastructure, coupled with civil unrest elsewhere on the continent - rumoured province cessations and the like - a clear picture is being formed that our way of life is under threat and that our duties to this nation, its government and its people must change to reflect this status quo.
After an emergency assembly with the Admiralty and the Cabinet it has been decided that a heightened hopper presence is necessary in all areas of the city. We will be holding a public press conference in due course to inform the populace of this. Everyone of you gathered in this room, as commanding officers of the Hopper Force will soon be issued new orders and an assigned squad and sector. We will be a constant round the clock presence and deterrent to any further incursions until further notice."
"Martial law, Sir!?" a voice piped up from somewhere in the crowd.
Knox stopped talking, his glare scanning the area the voice came from.
"The people of this city will still have freedom of movement to live their lives as expected. There will be no curfews or inspections. We are not a police state."
Dress it up how you like, Admiral, that sounds like martial law, Marina thought. If the outburst had unfooted Knox or made him angry, he gave no sign. He continued his address to the hall.
"But perhaps we will be a tad more liberal in our public declaration," the biting sarcasm came through and Marina knew Knox would make it a priority to seek out the owner of the voice and discipline them accordingly. "We have put out calls to Havenmere, New Verona, Kamdentown and Orisa Shire to request any additional military support they can lend us without compromising their own hopper forces until such a time we can replenish our own lost troops. I've been informed that Regent Rider is already setting much wider testing and recruitment plans into motion although naturally this will take a few weeks - " he paused as various beeps and alarms resounded throughout the hall. Knox paused, momentarily taken aback before he, like everyone else with access to one in the hall, checked his datapad.
Marina knew by the flashing red and black screens all around her what her datapad was alerting her to before she'd even read the words. The noise in the hall was instant - voices yelling in panic and anger.
"Hold your positions for orders please!" Knox bellowed over the microphone before switching it off and turning to the assembled officials behind him.
Marina looked down at her cracked device. The red and black pulsing message confirming the worst. An incursion on the Capital. Tiders in Capital airspace.
It made no sense. Tider airships were long gone. Scuttled, sunk, or in museums, and if none of those, then never venturing this far inland to be catastrophically outgunned. Outgunned. Turrets! Tiders in airspace - city defence turrets. Her mind connected the dots so quickly that she almost couldn't keep up.
She moved through the crowd, through the shouts and bravado. Hundreds of soldiers gearing up for a fight. Over the sea of voices Marina heard an angry horn resound from somewhere outside and the voices around her picked up in response.
Behind the alter, Minister Suri and the assembled officials and officers spoke heatedly, some yelling into their datapads, others yelling at each other. As Marina shoved her way closer, occasionally getting an elbow or hand jabbed into her aching chest, she got a clearer sense of what was happening on stage. A conflict between the military and Parliament, a head-butting of jurisdictional authority.
The turrets hadn't fired. She didn't need the absence of gunfire outside to tell her that. The men and women on stage knew it too. The defences were down. Incapacitated by whatever override had turned the guns at First Province on their own people. If the same thing happened again, they had minutes, seconds even before the dozen heavy cannons started massacring thousands of people outside.
Another horn blared, this one closer.
The answering roars of passing ASV engines overhead caused the barest of vibrations throughout the building before sudden sporadic bursts of cheering and trash talking resounded around the room.
And then, after the briefest booms of heavy turret fire, the first explosion happened.
The hall fell silent. The continuing sounds of gunfire outside as the capital aircraft were ripped apart mid-flight by the very weapons meant to protect them made only clearer. It was the second explosion and screaming descent of a burning engine that kicked the hall into pandemonium. Nobody waited for orders. Hundreds of hoppers charged towards the hall's entrance. The cacophony of men and women screaming in aggression and unity was almost deafening.
The court guards manning the entrance couldn't hold them back, nor could the three narrow, securely barricaded passages. The guards managed to unlock the turnstiles and blast doors, but it wasn't enough, it caused a bottle neck. Too many people trying to fit through too small a space. It was unclear who was running to defend their city from the threat or who was running to find cover from it.
What are they doing? Marina screamed to herself. It was almost as if years of training and experience had fallen by the wayside. It was a free-for-all. Hundreds of angry men and women heading out to take undisciplined vengeance on those who dared encroach on their territory.
Marina headed towards the stage alongside several dozen others, where the officers were barking orders at the Suri's and Regents. Renshaw was already attempting to usher everyone offstage with his bulk. Protecting the electorate and parliamentary body was the first priority in the event of an enemy incursion and there were numerous entrances and tunnels to the secure panic rooms all over the Royal Court, and the Assembly Hall was no exception.
Marina knew that she was in no condition for combat, so she would aid where necessary, ensuring the safety and security of the parliament that she served.
Her foot caught on something slippery on the floor and she went down, trying to control her roll as best she could. Her shoulders and back cried out in pain but she was already being helped up before she could make a sound.
"Watch out for the fruit, Ma'am." Graves flashed a grin and she pulled Marina upright.
"Graves -"
"Lost you after the bar, glad you're okay. We need to get everyone to safety."
"Kal...he was in -"
Graves shook Marina firmly.
"Not now. Put it aside. We need to survive this first. They need to survive this first." She pointed to the stage. "Then we grieve. Move."
They reached the stage behind several other commanding officers, it was already half empty, the group were being ushered by court guards down a side tunnel.
Heiress Suri, surrounded by four guards, took a quick look back and caught Marina through the rabble. She turned back.
"Commander O'Reilly!" she called. She headed towards Marina and was pushed aside by a Vice Admiral Marina didn't know.
"Await orders, soldier, " he barked.
Marina was aware of a struggle as the Heiress fought past her guards.
"You will wait until I say otherwise!" she shouted.
The men yelled a halt and the procession stopped, Minister Suri peered out from the tunnel entrance and started pushing his way back through.
"Commander," the Heiress said.
"Heiress," Marina nodded politely.
"This is what happened at First Province, is it not?"
"Not quite, My Lady, but we were right to expect a chain attack. The tiders have -"
The explosion was deafening. Chunks of stone and shards of glass rained down into the hall. Marina looked up to see one of the windows, still in its surrounding frame plummet towards the ground - the remains of high yield explosives hanging from the ledge.
There was no time to react before dozens of tiders on harnesses and parachutes dropped into the hall in a hail of bullets and grenades.
"You go!" someone yelled. A Regent was pushed so hard he fell. Someone else hurried to pick him up. Marina was swept up in the procession, not helped by Heiress Suri having a firm grip on Marina's hand. There were voices all around, she couldn't make out anything. Admirals and Colonels and officers and even government personnel turned back to deal with the tider threat.
"Commander!" Marina made out Graves's voice over everything else. "You get them to safety!"
Marina saw a wave of auburn hair turn towards the gunfire, and then she was moving into the dim light of the protective tunnel, far away from the ensuing chaos.
Tuesday, 4 June 2019
Wednesday, 15 May 2019
012: ASHE - EQUATORIAL DISTRICT - DAY 3
When Ashe came to, he was in a bed. Although where, he had no idea. His eyes gradually opened and then quickly snapped shut - the light was too bright and he was suddenly aware of the throbbing in his head. He tried turning his head to the right, it seemed less bright in that direction but that just caused his head to throb more and an intense dizziness to rip through him. He didn't know whether to move or stay still, as either choice seemed to result in the same pain and nausea. The sensation seemed to encompass his entire being, underlined with a constant and intense thirst. He was unable to process where he was or what he should do. His throat felt like burning sandpaper and almost as soon as the sensation registered a wave of coughing ripped through him that bent him nearly in half, brought streams of tears to his eyes, and caused a torrent of vomit that only made his throat burn more. His chest and lungs were on fire. He had no idea what was happening to him. He was now fully awake though, at least the deathly coughing fit had awarded that little benefit. Although full consciousness only brought with it more pain and vertigo.
Before he knew it he was being propped up, the hands appearing out of nowhere and holding him steady as the remains of the mead coloured bile trickled from his mouth. It dripped into a metal pan that was being held suspended in front of him. A nurse. Hospital then. His senses came back and his awareness cleared.
" - relax Corporal," the voice finished. He hadn't heard the first part through the retching.
He tried to ask a question but all that came out was a dry croak.
"Don't talk. You've inhaled a lot of smoke and your throat is a wreck," the nurse was blunt but calm. She helped lay him down, adjusting his nose tube as she did so. The tickle of it brought the awareness of its presence, and he suddenly realised he also had an medbag plugged into his arm. He looked around the room, and at the icon on the nurses uniform, although he couldn't make out her name through his watering eyes, the insignia above it was just about visible.
"Do you know where you are?" the nurse asked him.
He nodded. He did - Harmon Reed Medical Centre - the Capitals's Military Hospital. Named after some old hopper that had done something heroic Ashe had never been interested in looking up.
"Here," she held a straw to his mouth. He sipped. The water wasn't as soothing as it perhaps should have been and it just made his throat itch a little more, but it was welcome nonetheless. The nurse checked his IV's and readouts, adjusting things as she did so. He tried to look at the information on the monitors himself but couldn't make any sense of it.
"What -" he managed the one word before another coughing fit cut it short.
"You are suffering from smoke inhalation and a hangover the size of a ship. Aside from your lungs and throat 'tis difficult to tell which symptom is caused by which affliction."
Ashe tried to croak out another question, she silenced him with a finger.
"Don't talk Corporal. There's no need. You were found, you are safe, and you are on the mend. We can probably discharge you in a day or two. As long as you are hydrated and rested, you'll be up in no time."
Ashe suddenly had memories of fire burning all around him. A woman. He'd been with her. And then...fire. He'd been trying to find his way out. He'd been in his barracks, and then he hadn't been. His confusion was overwhelming. He needed answers. He had no idea what had happened to him, or what had perhaps happened to the Outer Court. He tried to speak and once again his question manifested as a mere croak.
"Try and get some rest," the nurse said, cutting him off. "You're lucky you escaped unharmed."
Unharmed from what? But she was already gone.
Ashe relaxed back into his pillows. His body was exhausted, and although his mind was foggy and desperate for rest, there was an alertness that kept fighting its way to the surface. He recognised the almost hallucinogenic, thunderous thought train of a hangover, but it was the questions and concerns colliding with it that made it even more difficult to sleep.
Eventually he did though, the trace amount of sedatives in the detox-hydration cocktail flowing into his arm taking charge and forcing his body to shut down.
He gradually fell into a deep sleep.
He had no idea how long he'd been asleep for when he was awoken sharply by hands shaking him frantically. The first thing he became fully aware of was the screams. The sounds of panicked voices and hurried footsteps formed a very clear symphony of something very bad happening.
He opened his eyes and the broad face above him swam into focus. It took Ashe a few seconds to place it.
"Gar -" he choked out. He couldn't manage the last symbol.
Private Garvey had a firm hold of him, still shaking. Ashe pushed him off as a fresh wave of movement induced coughing took hold of him.
"What's...hap..happen.."
"Tiders, Corporal. We're under attack."
Ashe could only frown. He must have heard wrong.
"Get up, Corporal."
Ashe pushed the Private away and managed to sit himself straight up, ignoring the wave of nausea that assaulted his stomach, although it was nowhere near as bad as his last brief visit to consciousness. Ashe glanced through the door and saw a panicked doctor and nurse run past, three patients being ushered along between them. They were flanked by a court guard brandishing an emergency response rifle.
Garvey was at the window, looking out to the city beyond. He turned back to Ashe.
"Protocol states -"
Ashe held up his hand. Garvey fell silent.
"What are you doing here?" Ashe whispered. His voice sounded like death. He took a sip of water and his stomach gently protested it.
"We took a convey to the barracks, but couldn't get close due to the secure perimeter," Garvey said. "There was a small secondary explosion of some kind, perhaps a grid node or similar. I was hit by a rogue piece of debris, took a nasty hit with a matching burn."
He lifted up his shirt to show the bandages covering his torso and shoulder. "MRO's brought me here to be patched up. I saw on the news feeds that you'd been recovered from the wreckage and wanted to check if you were okay. Came up here as soon as they'd let me see you and, well, you should probably see for yourself, Sir."
Ashe swung his legs towards the floor and tentatively stood up. As if to greet him, the sound of a tremendous horn bellowed in the distance somewhere outside. Ashe knew the sound. Everyone did. He'd heard something similar just two days prior at First Province - a tider raiding horn. But not this far inland. The coast was several hundred miles down the Jade River.
A new sensation grew in the pit of his stomach. This one brought on not by alcohol, but by dread. Something had happened at the barracks. He'd pieced together that much. Something terrible, and he'd been in the centre of it. Miraculously, somehow, he'd made it out. And yet, something even worse was happening now. He needed answers and needed them quickly.
He gently took a few steps towards the Private before a frightened looking orderly appeared in the doorway -
"Troops - move it along. We're getting all patients to the lockdown wing." He looked at Garvey. "Soldier, if you're mobile, grab your friend and get a move on. You know the way, and if you don't, there's nav-points everywhere." He was gone before either man could respond.
It was then that the realisation fully fell into place. Ashe paused. The fire. The explosion. The word wreckage. How many people had died? He stumbled across the room to Garvey, pulling the medbag from his arm in the process, the question already forming on his lips -
And then his gaze fell upon the scene outside. He stopped dead, reaching for Garvey to steady himself.
Three tider skyships hovered in the air on the outskirts of the city, approaching slowly from the West.
The larger of the two ships led the flotilla, flanked on either side by a slightly smaller counterpart. All three vessels bore the open-top hull with under-mounted engine nodes that was standard skyship design and all three had their solar sails open to full extent. An intimidation tactic, creating the largest and most threatening shapes possible. The shadows cast from the ships passed over the ground underneath and already Ashe could see the small, terrified shapes of people below flocking for safety. Ashe had only ever seen one skyship before and that was in a museum on a school field trip as a child. He'd learned that they were considered a relic of a bygone era, slow, inefficient and hard to upkeep. Seeing three working ships flying together now was unprecedented. The sight would have been almost beautiful if he'd had time to admire it, but the rising dread in his soul somewhat ruined the majesty.
He was unable to make out the sigils on the sails, but he didn't need to. Skyships of any kind meant tiders. And tiders meant death and ruin. One of the craft let out another great bellow, louder than the first and closer this time, although Ashe had no way of knowing how fast they were travelling.
"Why aren't the turrets firing?" Garvey almost whispered.
Only two of the city's dozen gun towers were visible from Ashe's position in the hospital. Almost identical in design to the ones at First Province, but larger, more current models. Except they now stood still, silent. Ineffective guardians watching over the urban expanse.
"They won't," Ashe rasped. He knew what was going to happen next.
"Sir?" Garvey asked.
Ashe could see the white smoke still billowing from where a large chunk of the barracks had once lay. The wafting plumes occasionally obscured the three floating harbingers of death that made their approach, the sounds of their engines now just about audible.
"What happened at the barracks, Garvey?" Ashe coughed. The Private brought over the water flask from the bed, Ashe took it gratefully.
"An accident, maybe? An attack? We think. We don't know."
"Dead?" Ashe asked, dreading the answer.
"I don't know, no one does for sure. Hundreds is the best estimate." Garvey looked out at the approaching skyships. "T'was no accident was it?"
"They won't fire," Ashe said again.
As if in answer, Ashe could hear the growing roars of approaching ASVs - dispatched from the Florentine Airfield to the East - as the skyships grew ever closer.
"First Province was a test run." Ashe said simply.
It took seconds for the defence turrets to swing into position and another millisecond for them to adjust targeting and open a barrage of fire on the approaching aircraft. Glowing streams of projectiles moved in almost imperceptible flashes across the city skyline towards the East. Ashe couldn't see where they hit, but heard the explosions in the distance.
Garvey's mouth hung open in an expression of horror. Ashe merely sighed. He couldn't think of anything else to do. He'd never been one for military planning or combat theatre, but the whole sequence of events over the last three days suddenly seemed so obvious. And a fresh wave of hatred not for the tiders but for the Capital and for Parliament escaped him as nothing more than a whisper of breath.
As he watched, an ASV roared past the hospital, dodging the onslaught of fire and returning in kind, with several hundred rounds sailing over the building's roof. It all happened so quickly that neither Ashe nor Garvey had time to react or take cover before the ASV was hit and spiralled downwards in a ball of fire. Ashe saw the pilot eject briefly before being pulled to the floor by Garvey as the windows blew in. The impact of the ASV crashing a few yards away caused the building to tremble and showered them both in shards of glass.
"Where are the rest of them?" Garvey yelled.
"Gone! Those turrets are designed to prevent anything from even getting near Capital airspace. They didn't have a chance!"
Ashe pulled himself onto all fours, a fresh wave of coughing causing dust and glass to fall away from him like razor sharp powder.
"You alright, Sir?" Garvey asked, massaging his burn wound. He had a few cuts but only superficial.
"You tell me," Ashe said. He looked down at the sharp triangles of glass covering the floor and then at his own hospital pyjamas and bare feet.
"I'll need some boots!" He attempted a laugh and just about managed it before a fresh fit of coughing hit him.
Garvey pulled him to his feet and they faced the window once more. Without the glass, they could hear the screams down below, the panic rising up to them like a heatwave off tarmac. The panic in the corridors behind them had died off somewhat, and Ashe assumed most of the patients and staff had made it to the lockdown wing.
The ships now loomed almost overhead, well within Outer Court airspace and Ashe could now make out the blood red sun on the lead ship's sails. One of the smaller ships bore the sigil of a mallet or hammer of some kind. The third ship and its sails, however, escaped his eye line. He could, however, see the amount of advanced and incredibly destructive hardware mounted all over the vessels, every single weapon aimed downwards.
"What do we do, Sir?" Garvey asked.
"Sorry?"
"You're my superior."
Ashe only stared blankly. As a Corporal the closest thing he'd ever had to a command was occasionally overseeing small groups during training or security ops and even then he'd done the bare minimum. He wasn't built for the military, let alone command. He'd never given orders in his life.
Garvey took a breath. "Protocol dictates in the event of an enemy incursion that we must protect the Royal Court, protect the electorate, protect parliament and ensure the longevity and prosperity of the Capital's ruling body. We must minimize civilian casualties but not at the cost of causing harm to the ruling body. All able bodied hoppers must prioritise the safety and - if necessary - evacuation of the Capitals governing infrastructure. To not act under the required duty of the constitution if able would be considered an act of treason." Garvey reeled it off like he was sitting an exam. "As it stands, we both have two arms, two legs and can move. I think we're able enough, Sir." He added the Sir almost as an afterthought.
Ashe tried to think, his hangover slowing him down only slightly. Duty. Of course. Justice, Ever Forwards. Those cursed words. Always rearing their self righteous heads at the most inopportune times. And yet, suddenly, he felt a plan forming. He glanced at the ships overhead.
"No mortars."
"What? Garvey asked.
"No mortars. They are heading to the Royal Court, yet no mortars. They obviously don't want to cause wide spread, uncontrollable damage to the infrastructure, otherwise they'd be bombing it already. They're going to deploy ground troops."
"Are you sure, Sir?"
"Of course not, I have no idea what I'm talking about, but we could be several hundred hoppers down with Lord only knows how many others are injured and incapable. Look at the ships, Garvey! You know the troop capacity of those?"
"No, Corporal."
"Neither do I, but I'm assuming a lot. Enough to breach the walls with no turrets and no air support to stop them. They are happy to sacrifice the fodder, it's the tider way. Hopper Command could dispatch more ASV's, but they won't waste the hardware. They'll be shot down before they can get close. This will be a ground skirmish."
"We won't get through them, Sir."
"Of course we won't. And I have no intention of fighting, Garvey. Even if I wasn't coughing up a lung and wearing pyjamas. I've come this far with doing the absolute minimum required of me and I don't intend to change that now. Follow me."
Ashe turned dramatically before being forced to gingerly hop over the shards of glass on the floor. He realised that he probably looked ridiculous but had no other option. He felt the odd shard pierce and scrape his feet but there was nothing to do about it until he was out of the room.
"Ashe!" Garvey's voice stopped him.
"What?" Ashe said through a cough.
"I've never seen combat."
"I'm sorry." Ashe was dumbfounded.
"Just field training, a few clean up ops." There was no shame in Garvey's voice, he was just stating facts. "I'm fairly green around the gills -"
"Can you shoot?" Ashe interjected.
"Be useless if I couldn't."
"Good enough. Then we're able. Don't want a taste of that treason now, do we. Lets go." He crossed the threshold into the corridor and started picking the glass from his feet, silently cursing Garvey under his breath. If Garvey hadn't found him, if there wasn't a witness - even worse, a by the book, patriotic witness - then he could have maybe, quietly slipped away, hidden, and waited the whole thing out. Maybe even down in the lockdown wing, feigning a more severe injury. But no. Instead he was drawn into a battle that he had no interest in participating in once again.
Six months. Six months and this will all be done.
If he even managed to live through it.
"Let's find the armoury," Ashe said finding, a nearby nav-point.
They'd travelled only a few metres down the hallway before they came across an armed court guard. He had his weapon raised and was doing a final sweep of the ward, quickly checking in each room or office before moving onto the next.
"Hail!" Ashe called as best he could.
The guard spun around taking aim, before quickly relaxing his weapon. He approached, wincing briefly as another tider horn resounded from outside.
"Hoppers," he said simply.
"Corporal Ashe Marvel, ID tag indigo -"
"I know who you are, Marvel," the guard responded. Ashe unconsciously ignored the brief acknowledgement of his fame and continued.
"This is Private..." Ashe paused, embarrassed. He had no idea what Garvey's given name was.
"Aloysius," Garvey said, slightly wounded.
"Private Aloysius Garvey."
"Sergeant Jefford Green. Why are you not in the lockdown wing?"
"We were somewhat distracted with the show outside."
"This isn't a joke, Marvel."
"Oh, I'm fully aware of that, Sergeant. But if I'm frank, I'm not going out there. You may have noticed that I'm not wearing shoes." He gestured down to his feet for dramatic effect. "I'm also not prepared to engage in a suicide run when there is always a flashier and far stupider way to do things."
"Move on, Marvel, you're wasting my time."
"Sergeant, those ships are about to drop several boatloads worth of savages on our government. They also have every barrel aimed right at us. Now I'm not sure how you feel, but I quite like living here, mostly. That being said, I'm not going to hide away and be tried for treason, as much as the former part appeals. So, I suppose I'll have to pull my weight. That sound outside, the tremor you may have felt - the tiders have taken out a flock of ASV's and gained control of the defence turrets. First Province was a test run. This is the goal. Us. The Capital."
"The Capital has never been breached."
"And I've never yet experienced the taste of someone from the Autumn Isles but there's a first time for everything." His monologue had strained his throat and he erupted in a fresh wave of dry, hacking coughing. He drank deeply from the flask before continuing.
"Can you direct us to any long range weapons you have here. Anything with a scope, long barrel, suitable for sniping or covert kills? Neither of us are particularly suitable for combat but I do feel like perhaps taking down some boat-boys. They are really starting to inconvenience my week."
"There are several weapons lockers and a fully stocked armoury minus what's in use. I can order a quick inventory of anything suitable and we can get a matching number of men."
"That was my next suggestion." Ashe offered his hand. Sergeant Green took it.
"Let me guess, your suggestion after that was to place men on the roof, to rid the doorstep of a few tider roaches?"
"Why, yes it was," Ashe said, forcing a grin.
"Then follow me, soldiers."
Before he knew it he was being propped up, the hands appearing out of nowhere and holding him steady as the remains of the mead coloured bile trickled from his mouth. It dripped into a metal pan that was being held suspended in front of him. A nurse. Hospital then. His senses came back and his awareness cleared.
" - relax Corporal," the voice finished. He hadn't heard the first part through the retching.
He tried to ask a question but all that came out was a dry croak.
"Don't talk. You've inhaled a lot of smoke and your throat is a wreck," the nurse was blunt but calm. She helped lay him down, adjusting his nose tube as she did so. The tickle of it brought the awareness of its presence, and he suddenly realised he also had an medbag plugged into his arm. He looked around the room, and at the icon on the nurses uniform, although he couldn't make out her name through his watering eyes, the insignia above it was just about visible.
"Do you know where you are?" the nurse asked him.
He nodded. He did - Harmon Reed Medical Centre - the Capitals's Military Hospital. Named after some old hopper that had done something heroic Ashe had never been interested in looking up.
"Here," she held a straw to his mouth. He sipped. The water wasn't as soothing as it perhaps should have been and it just made his throat itch a little more, but it was welcome nonetheless. The nurse checked his IV's and readouts, adjusting things as she did so. He tried to look at the information on the monitors himself but couldn't make any sense of it.
"What -" he managed the one word before another coughing fit cut it short.
"You are suffering from smoke inhalation and a hangover the size of a ship. Aside from your lungs and throat 'tis difficult to tell which symptom is caused by which affliction."
Ashe tried to croak out another question, she silenced him with a finger.
"Don't talk Corporal. There's no need. You were found, you are safe, and you are on the mend. We can probably discharge you in a day or two. As long as you are hydrated and rested, you'll be up in no time."
Ashe suddenly had memories of fire burning all around him. A woman. He'd been with her. And then...fire. He'd been trying to find his way out. He'd been in his barracks, and then he hadn't been. His confusion was overwhelming. He needed answers. He had no idea what had happened to him, or what had perhaps happened to the Outer Court. He tried to speak and once again his question manifested as a mere croak.
"Try and get some rest," the nurse said, cutting him off. "You're lucky you escaped unharmed."
Unharmed from what? But she was already gone.
Ashe relaxed back into his pillows. His body was exhausted, and although his mind was foggy and desperate for rest, there was an alertness that kept fighting its way to the surface. He recognised the almost hallucinogenic, thunderous thought train of a hangover, but it was the questions and concerns colliding with it that made it even more difficult to sleep.
Eventually he did though, the trace amount of sedatives in the detox-hydration cocktail flowing into his arm taking charge and forcing his body to shut down.
He gradually fell into a deep sleep.
He had no idea how long he'd been asleep for when he was awoken sharply by hands shaking him frantically. The first thing he became fully aware of was the screams. The sounds of panicked voices and hurried footsteps formed a very clear symphony of something very bad happening.
He opened his eyes and the broad face above him swam into focus. It took Ashe a few seconds to place it.
"Gar -" he choked out. He couldn't manage the last symbol.
Private Garvey had a firm hold of him, still shaking. Ashe pushed him off as a fresh wave of movement induced coughing took hold of him.
"What's...hap..happen.."
"Tiders, Corporal. We're under attack."
Ashe could only frown. He must have heard wrong.
"Get up, Corporal."
Ashe pushed the Private away and managed to sit himself straight up, ignoring the wave of nausea that assaulted his stomach, although it was nowhere near as bad as his last brief visit to consciousness. Ashe glanced through the door and saw a panicked doctor and nurse run past, three patients being ushered along between them. They were flanked by a court guard brandishing an emergency response rifle.
Garvey was at the window, looking out to the city beyond. He turned back to Ashe.
"Protocol states -"
Ashe held up his hand. Garvey fell silent.
"What are you doing here?" Ashe whispered. His voice sounded like death. He took a sip of water and his stomach gently protested it.
"We took a convey to the barracks, but couldn't get close due to the secure perimeter," Garvey said. "There was a small secondary explosion of some kind, perhaps a grid node or similar. I was hit by a rogue piece of debris, took a nasty hit with a matching burn."
He lifted up his shirt to show the bandages covering his torso and shoulder. "MRO's brought me here to be patched up. I saw on the news feeds that you'd been recovered from the wreckage and wanted to check if you were okay. Came up here as soon as they'd let me see you and, well, you should probably see for yourself, Sir."
Ashe swung his legs towards the floor and tentatively stood up. As if to greet him, the sound of a tremendous horn bellowed in the distance somewhere outside. Ashe knew the sound. Everyone did. He'd heard something similar just two days prior at First Province - a tider raiding horn. But not this far inland. The coast was several hundred miles down the Jade River.
A new sensation grew in the pit of his stomach. This one brought on not by alcohol, but by dread. Something had happened at the barracks. He'd pieced together that much. Something terrible, and he'd been in the centre of it. Miraculously, somehow, he'd made it out. And yet, something even worse was happening now. He needed answers and needed them quickly.
He gently took a few steps towards the Private before a frightened looking orderly appeared in the doorway -
"Troops - move it along. We're getting all patients to the lockdown wing." He looked at Garvey. "Soldier, if you're mobile, grab your friend and get a move on. You know the way, and if you don't, there's nav-points everywhere." He was gone before either man could respond.
It was then that the realisation fully fell into place. Ashe paused. The fire. The explosion. The word wreckage. How many people had died? He stumbled across the room to Garvey, pulling the medbag from his arm in the process, the question already forming on his lips -
And then his gaze fell upon the scene outside. He stopped dead, reaching for Garvey to steady himself.
Three tider skyships hovered in the air on the outskirts of the city, approaching slowly from the West.
The larger of the two ships led the flotilla, flanked on either side by a slightly smaller counterpart. All three vessels bore the open-top hull with under-mounted engine nodes that was standard skyship design and all three had their solar sails open to full extent. An intimidation tactic, creating the largest and most threatening shapes possible. The shadows cast from the ships passed over the ground underneath and already Ashe could see the small, terrified shapes of people below flocking for safety. Ashe had only ever seen one skyship before and that was in a museum on a school field trip as a child. He'd learned that they were considered a relic of a bygone era, slow, inefficient and hard to upkeep. Seeing three working ships flying together now was unprecedented. The sight would have been almost beautiful if he'd had time to admire it, but the rising dread in his soul somewhat ruined the majesty.
He was unable to make out the sigils on the sails, but he didn't need to. Skyships of any kind meant tiders. And tiders meant death and ruin. One of the craft let out another great bellow, louder than the first and closer this time, although Ashe had no way of knowing how fast they were travelling.
"Why aren't the turrets firing?" Garvey almost whispered.
Only two of the city's dozen gun towers were visible from Ashe's position in the hospital. Almost identical in design to the ones at First Province, but larger, more current models. Except they now stood still, silent. Ineffective guardians watching over the urban expanse.
"They won't," Ashe rasped. He knew what was going to happen next.
"Sir?" Garvey asked.
Ashe could see the white smoke still billowing from where a large chunk of the barracks had once lay. The wafting plumes occasionally obscured the three floating harbingers of death that made their approach, the sounds of their engines now just about audible.
"What happened at the barracks, Garvey?" Ashe coughed. The Private brought over the water flask from the bed, Ashe took it gratefully.
"An accident, maybe? An attack? We think. We don't know."
"Dead?" Ashe asked, dreading the answer.
"I don't know, no one does for sure. Hundreds is the best estimate." Garvey looked out at the approaching skyships. "T'was no accident was it?"
"They won't fire," Ashe said again.
As if in answer, Ashe could hear the growing roars of approaching ASVs - dispatched from the Florentine Airfield to the East - as the skyships grew ever closer.
"First Province was a test run." Ashe said simply.
It took seconds for the defence turrets to swing into position and another millisecond for them to adjust targeting and open a barrage of fire on the approaching aircraft. Glowing streams of projectiles moved in almost imperceptible flashes across the city skyline towards the East. Ashe couldn't see where they hit, but heard the explosions in the distance.
Garvey's mouth hung open in an expression of horror. Ashe merely sighed. He couldn't think of anything else to do. He'd never been one for military planning or combat theatre, but the whole sequence of events over the last three days suddenly seemed so obvious. And a fresh wave of hatred not for the tiders but for the Capital and for Parliament escaped him as nothing more than a whisper of breath.
As he watched, an ASV roared past the hospital, dodging the onslaught of fire and returning in kind, with several hundred rounds sailing over the building's roof. It all happened so quickly that neither Ashe nor Garvey had time to react or take cover before the ASV was hit and spiralled downwards in a ball of fire. Ashe saw the pilot eject briefly before being pulled to the floor by Garvey as the windows blew in. The impact of the ASV crashing a few yards away caused the building to tremble and showered them both in shards of glass.
"Where are the rest of them?" Garvey yelled.
"Gone! Those turrets are designed to prevent anything from even getting near Capital airspace. They didn't have a chance!"
Ashe pulled himself onto all fours, a fresh wave of coughing causing dust and glass to fall away from him like razor sharp powder.
"You alright, Sir?" Garvey asked, massaging his burn wound. He had a few cuts but only superficial.
"You tell me," Ashe said. He looked down at the sharp triangles of glass covering the floor and then at his own hospital pyjamas and bare feet.
"I'll need some boots!" He attempted a laugh and just about managed it before a fresh fit of coughing hit him.
Garvey pulled him to his feet and they faced the window once more. Without the glass, they could hear the screams down below, the panic rising up to them like a heatwave off tarmac. The panic in the corridors behind them had died off somewhat, and Ashe assumed most of the patients and staff had made it to the lockdown wing.
The ships now loomed almost overhead, well within Outer Court airspace and Ashe could now make out the blood red sun on the lead ship's sails. One of the smaller ships bore the sigil of a mallet or hammer of some kind. The third ship and its sails, however, escaped his eye line. He could, however, see the amount of advanced and incredibly destructive hardware mounted all over the vessels, every single weapon aimed downwards.
"What do we do, Sir?" Garvey asked.
"Sorry?"
"You're my superior."
Ashe only stared blankly. As a Corporal the closest thing he'd ever had to a command was occasionally overseeing small groups during training or security ops and even then he'd done the bare minimum. He wasn't built for the military, let alone command. He'd never given orders in his life.
Garvey took a breath. "Protocol dictates in the event of an enemy incursion that we must protect the Royal Court, protect the electorate, protect parliament and ensure the longevity and prosperity of the Capital's ruling body. We must minimize civilian casualties but not at the cost of causing harm to the ruling body. All able bodied hoppers must prioritise the safety and - if necessary - evacuation of the Capitals governing infrastructure. To not act under the required duty of the constitution if able would be considered an act of treason." Garvey reeled it off like he was sitting an exam. "As it stands, we both have two arms, two legs and can move. I think we're able enough, Sir." He added the Sir almost as an afterthought.
Ashe tried to think, his hangover slowing him down only slightly. Duty. Of course. Justice, Ever Forwards. Those cursed words. Always rearing their self righteous heads at the most inopportune times. And yet, suddenly, he felt a plan forming. He glanced at the ships overhead.
"No mortars."
"What? Garvey asked.
"No mortars. They are heading to the Royal Court, yet no mortars. They obviously don't want to cause wide spread, uncontrollable damage to the infrastructure, otherwise they'd be bombing it already. They're going to deploy ground troops."
"Are you sure, Sir?"
"Of course not, I have no idea what I'm talking about, but we could be several hundred hoppers down with Lord only knows how many others are injured and incapable. Look at the ships, Garvey! You know the troop capacity of those?"
"No, Corporal."
"Neither do I, but I'm assuming a lot. Enough to breach the walls with no turrets and no air support to stop them. They are happy to sacrifice the fodder, it's the tider way. Hopper Command could dispatch more ASV's, but they won't waste the hardware. They'll be shot down before they can get close. This will be a ground skirmish."
"We won't get through them, Sir."
"Of course we won't. And I have no intention of fighting, Garvey. Even if I wasn't coughing up a lung and wearing pyjamas. I've come this far with doing the absolute minimum required of me and I don't intend to change that now. Follow me."
Ashe turned dramatically before being forced to gingerly hop over the shards of glass on the floor. He realised that he probably looked ridiculous but had no other option. He felt the odd shard pierce and scrape his feet but there was nothing to do about it until he was out of the room.
"Ashe!" Garvey's voice stopped him.
"What?" Ashe said through a cough.
"I've never seen combat."
"I'm sorry." Ashe was dumbfounded.
"Just field training, a few clean up ops." There was no shame in Garvey's voice, he was just stating facts. "I'm fairly green around the gills -"
"Can you shoot?" Ashe interjected.
"Be useless if I couldn't."
"Good enough. Then we're able. Don't want a taste of that treason now, do we. Lets go." He crossed the threshold into the corridor and started picking the glass from his feet, silently cursing Garvey under his breath. If Garvey hadn't found him, if there wasn't a witness - even worse, a by the book, patriotic witness - then he could have maybe, quietly slipped away, hidden, and waited the whole thing out. Maybe even down in the lockdown wing, feigning a more severe injury. But no. Instead he was drawn into a battle that he had no interest in participating in once again.
Six months. Six months and this will all be done.
If he even managed to live through it.
"Let's find the armoury," Ashe said finding, a nearby nav-point.
They'd travelled only a few metres down the hallway before they came across an armed court guard. He had his weapon raised and was doing a final sweep of the ward, quickly checking in each room or office before moving onto the next.
"Hail!" Ashe called as best he could.
The guard spun around taking aim, before quickly relaxing his weapon. He approached, wincing briefly as another tider horn resounded from outside.
"Hoppers," he said simply.
"Corporal Ashe Marvel, ID tag indigo -"
"I know who you are, Marvel," the guard responded. Ashe unconsciously ignored the brief acknowledgement of his fame and continued.
"This is Private..." Ashe paused, embarrassed. He had no idea what Garvey's given name was.
"Aloysius," Garvey said, slightly wounded.
"Private Aloysius Garvey."
"Sergeant Jefford Green. Why are you not in the lockdown wing?"
"We were somewhat distracted with the show outside."
"This isn't a joke, Marvel."
"Oh, I'm fully aware of that, Sergeant. But if I'm frank, I'm not going out there. You may have noticed that I'm not wearing shoes." He gestured down to his feet for dramatic effect. "I'm also not prepared to engage in a suicide run when there is always a flashier and far stupider way to do things."
"Move on, Marvel, you're wasting my time."
"Sergeant, those ships are about to drop several boatloads worth of savages on our government. They also have every barrel aimed right at us. Now I'm not sure how you feel, but I quite like living here, mostly. That being said, I'm not going to hide away and be tried for treason, as much as the former part appeals. So, I suppose I'll have to pull my weight. That sound outside, the tremor you may have felt - the tiders have taken out a flock of ASV's and gained control of the defence turrets. First Province was a test run. This is the goal. Us. The Capital."
"The Capital has never been breached."
"And I've never yet experienced the taste of someone from the Autumn Isles but there's a first time for everything." His monologue had strained his throat and he erupted in a fresh wave of dry, hacking coughing. He drank deeply from the flask before continuing.
"Can you direct us to any long range weapons you have here. Anything with a scope, long barrel, suitable for sniping or covert kills? Neither of us are particularly suitable for combat but I do feel like perhaps taking down some boat-boys. They are really starting to inconvenience my week."
"There are several weapons lockers and a fully stocked armoury minus what's in use. I can order a quick inventory of anything suitable and we can get a matching number of men."
"That was my next suggestion." Ashe offered his hand. Sergeant Green took it.
"Let me guess, your suggestion after that was to place men on the roof, to rid the doorstep of a few tider roaches?"
"Why, yes it was," Ashe said, forcing a grin.
"Then follow me, soldiers."
Tuesday, 9 April 2019
011: MARINA- EQUATORIAL DISTRICT - DAY 3
The blackened, skeletal wreck of her lodge was all that remained. Marina sat on the charred branch of a fallen tree, her clothes filthy with soot and smoke. The thin layer of ash underfoot made the cobbled ground feel more like soft carpet than stone through her boots.
Kal's body, or what was left of it, had been removed less than thirty minutes before.
She was no longer aware of the tears that were still streaming down her face as his animal-like hysteria had gradually morphed into a sort of catatonia. Her eyes, although fixed on the hollowed out remains of her old life, remained almost oblivious to the sight. She could only stare at a distant, unknown point that was neither nearby or far away. Through the black, through the rubble and into nothing.
She was no stranger to death. She was a soldier, it came with the territory. It hadn't even been three days since she'd lost friends and compatriots at First Province. But they were expendable fodder, they all were. Happy to sacrifice themselves in service of the greater good of the Capital. Justice, Ever Forwards. Kal hadn't chosen that. He hadn't chosen to be blown apart in a fiery wreck. He hadn't volunteered to die in one of the most horrendous ways imaginable. He was supposed to have died peacefully, when he was old, with Marina or his children at his side. The suffering and death Marina had witnessed in ten years of service, that had always seemed normal, rational even and her brain could always close it off. This wasn't rational, this wasn't part of the plan. This was Kal.
And she hadn't fixed it. She'd never made it home to repair the damage from their argument. Her last memory of him would be anger and hurt. The last time she would ever see him would be as he'd stormed away from her, slamming the door behind him.
Tomorrow, she had said. We'll fix it tomorrow.
No, that wasn't right. Ashe had said tomorrow. Ashe had said he'd be there. Ashe had pulled her away from the man she loved for a night of hollow, meaningless revelry and like a fool, Marina had toddled along, trying to fit in. Trying to find something else outside of her own, actual worries.
Ashe Marvel and his fucking drinks.
Ashe Marvel.
Marina hated him.
It had seemed like days ago that she'd arrived at the scene in the Swan's commandeered cart. Truthfully, she'd lost track of time but it couldn't have been more than eight hours or so. The cart had been unable to get anywhere near the barracks as the roadblocks and rerouting set up by the emergency services had been wide and far reaching. Yet it had managed to get Marina close enough that she could feel the heat and smell the death when she'd emerged from inside the vehicle.
She'd run, all awareness of her injured ribs and alcohol filled bloodstream forgotten. She'd run past rescue workers, MRO's, and lawmen, bounding over, around and under control barriers and wagons, shoving aside anyone that had tried to stop her. All the while displaying her secure military ID, waving it around frantically in an attempt to quell any protests.
As she'd grown closer, the heat and smoke had become unbearable. The soaring temperatures seemed to pulse in waves through the air, along the streets and down the back alleys. Not hot enough to singe her clothes or skin, but enough that her eyes had stung, making it almost impossible to see. She hadn't seemed able to blink any moisture back into them as the searing heat dried them out within seconds. The smoke had billowed upwards obscuring everything above and making it seem as if the entire district was submerged in a toxic fog of suffering.
Eventually she'd come to a blockade that was impenetrable, a line of fire wagons and rescue crews that had formed an impassable wall around the barracks western watch gate. The crowds of onlookers that had sporadically peppered the streets on her drive there were now almost too thick to penetrate. Se'd pushed through them towards the blockade as huge streams of water roared out of tank-like vehicles ahead, arcing over the walls into the flaming carnage beyond. She'd had a brief flashback to the Ocean Ghost's thunderfall, and imagined the jets pummelling any surviving barracks inhabitants into pulp on the other side. Although she knew the pressure was nowhere near the force of the tider vessel, the memory had caused her a moment of weakness and she'd stumbled briefly before regaining clarity and focus.
By that point, however, she was already screaming, fighting to make it through the cluster of bodies. She'd screamed Kal's name over and over and the screaming had quickly turned to wailing. The pushing, meanwhile, had turned to shoving and before long she'd been actively throwing people aside to make it to the gate. All the while screaming in anguish and rage.
She remembered reaching the blockade, remembered being held back and restrained by lawmen and MRO's. She remembered throwing punches, remembered fighting her way through, her military training seeming to take over instinctively. She remembered Travis appearing with Garvey, she'd remembered yelling at them both. She remembered that she had spat, screamed and thrashed, all the while being held back, tackled, and shouted at. It was all fragmented, the brief flashes of memory jumbled and clouded by the blanket of intense grief.
Somehow she'd made it through the blockade, running past the open gate, past the fire-wagons, and into the maze of burning buildings. Most of the fires had been extinguished, but she remembered navigating her way by memory and by the flickering orange glow of still-burning lodges. There were voices behind her, following her. It may have been Travis, it may have been the law, but she didn't care. She couldn't see past the rage, or past her increasingly blurred vision. If the smoke hadn't attacked her eyes enough it then started to attack her lungs and her eyes watered even more with every cough. She'd covered her mouth with her shirt to try and ward off the worst of it but it had done nothing.
She remembered reaching the smouldering one-story cuboid that had been her home and although she'd passed dozens like it on her run, seeing the wreckage of her own was like a punch to the soul. She'd finally collapsed. She didn't know how she'd known, but a certainty had washed over her then: a certainty that Kal had been inside. A certainty that he was dead. She'd broken down then, holding onto the still-warm tree for support, and wept. She'd wept uncontrollably for hours, wailing into the emerging dawn. It was a flood of the deepest, purest anguish imaginable. If she'd have been on the outside of it looking in, she wouldn't have known a human body was capable of such sustained and intense emotional turmoil. Every sob brought a fresh cough and every cough brought a sob, it was a feedback loop of pain that seemed to have no end. Eventually she wasn't even aware of what it was she was crying for, or what she was screaming at. It had seemingly become a natural state of being, as if she'd never known anything else.
At some point Travis had found her and sat with her. She didn't hear the man's words, or feel his embrace, nor was she aware of the emergency officials who'd tried to remove them both from the scene, the arguments and legal threats hurled back and forth went unheard to her. Dawn eventually became morning and at some point after that Travis had left her, whether before or after her anguish had become catatonia Marina didn't know. Nor did she hear the reasons for her companion's departure. Eventually, the emergency workers had left her be too. They flitted in and out of her vision, examining buildings and looking for any dead. It was then that they had found Kal. Somebody in the green and white colours of an MRO spoke to her and tried to get her to stand, Marina was immovable, lost in her own spiral of despair.
And here she was still, barely aware that the coughing had set in quite badly. Her throat was raw and her breathing was laboured. The toxins in the air were dispersing, but she'd sat too long in the thinning smoke, and had taken some damage to her lungs.
Slowly, her thoughts started to organise themselves into some semblance of functionality, although her head was still a thick broth of all the ills of the past few days. Her alleged mutation and suspension would bubble up only to burst and be sloshed over with another wave of grief and loss. The battle of First Province seemed to stir around the edge, only to be folded in with the faces of the dead. Her ribs, in agony again with every cough, were overwhelmed with memories of Kal, who in turn would be swallowed up by fire and the stream of a thunderfall.
Kal. He was gone, and it was Ashe's fault Marina hadn't been there; but if she had been, she'd be dead too, which would surely be preferable than living with this pain. She wished she was dead. She wished they'd gone together. Laughing, repairing their quarrel, remembering why they were in love.
But it didn't matter. He was gone.
The thing that finally brought her out of her trance was a loud alarm blaring from her pocket. Her ears and mind seemed to gradually tune into its miniaturised siren.
She pulled out her datapad, the screen flashing red with a priority banner bearing the Capital coat of arms and hopper insignia. Underneath flashed the words: PRIORITY ALERT - REGISTER CHECK IN. Marina pressed her thumb to the designated space and waited as the alarm silenced and the banner faded. Within a few seconds, the screen turned green and displayed her number and rank with instructions to report to the Royal Court Assembly Hall.
She threw the device aside, it skittered along the barren ground, ricocheting off of a piece of rubble.
Why bother? What was she fighting for if not for Kal? If not for their life together? Besides, her services were no longer required. Rendered inert because of a medical anomaly someone should have an answer for and didn't. She had no life, no future and no career. No home.
She let out a snorting chuckle, the thought that she was homeless had only just occurred to her. The military would rehouse her of course, yet if her suspension became a permanent discharge, that wouldn't even be a guarantee. The chuckle seemed to break through her grief somewhat, and for the first time in hours she looked up and around at the ruined courtyard surrounding her, taking it in for the last time. The MRO's crawled over the scene like green-and-white coloured termites on a mound, working to recover the dead and secure any high risk areas.
Marina looked down at her now cracked datapad and let out a hacking cough. The alert meant either two things: that her suspension had still not been fully authorised and was moving its way slowly along the channels of bureaucracy, or it no longer mattered and the call had been put out for all available military personnel regardless of status. Didn't she have to report to Canhos today? To sign off on the forms that would turn her from soldier to lab rat? Maybe. She had no idea what time it was. Yesterday already seemed weeks ago.
The cracked datapad screen continued to draw her attention and a flicker of curiosity tickled the back of her mind but was quickly suppressed by a fresh wave of anguish. Kal's face crashed through her mind like a torrent. Images of him laughing, sleeping, gasping and crying out as they made love. The grief threatened to consume Marina again and she could feel her heart racing, the panic setting in once more. In desperation and with no other idea of how to stop it, she punched herself in the face. The effect was instantaneous. Kal's face vanished in a constellation of newly flashing stars. She swallowed down everything, literally and figuratively. The physical act of swallowing felt like her throat was being torn out, but it helped calm her emotional state. Swallow the pain. Act first, grief later. Duty first. Contain the emotion, pack it away, process it later. When the mission is done, then is the time for emotional fragility.
It was like a trigger had been pulled in her head, the pistol of her military training had been fired. The conditioning overtook everything else and Kal vanished. She wasn't even aware of it. That part of her brain was gone. Buried under years of training and discipline.
The alert had called her and suspended or not, it was her duty to answer. Just as it always had been.
Marina tried to stand, and found she couldn't. She was too weak. Too stiff. She'd been sitting in the same position for hours. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck in an attempt to loosen herself up, and then, supporting herself on the tree branch, she pushed herself upwards. Her back cracked, her knees ground, and her ribs and diaphragm were in a pain beyond description. She was certain that the coughing and screaming had broken something again. Her whole body screamed in agony, but she was standing.
Holding her stomach, she took her first tentative step and felt a twinge in her back that couldn't represent anything good, but she was moving. Another step. Then another. She paused to pick up her damaged datapad, just about finding the strength and will power to drag herself up from the ground a second time.
Marina slowly shuffled her way through the courtyard, away from the barracks and away from her old life. She didn't look back. She didn't need to. She felt an ominous sense, almost a certainty, that she'd never be back there again. She couldn't explain it but it formed with a clarity that was almost like relief.
Gradually her shuffle became a waddle, each step getting easier than the last. The Capital had summoned her and she would answer. As she always had.
Justice. Ever Forwards.
Kal's body, or what was left of it, had been removed less than thirty minutes before.
She was no longer aware of the tears that were still streaming down her face as his animal-like hysteria had gradually morphed into a sort of catatonia. Her eyes, although fixed on the hollowed out remains of her old life, remained almost oblivious to the sight. She could only stare at a distant, unknown point that was neither nearby or far away. Through the black, through the rubble and into nothing.
She was no stranger to death. She was a soldier, it came with the territory. It hadn't even been three days since she'd lost friends and compatriots at First Province. But they were expendable fodder, they all were. Happy to sacrifice themselves in service of the greater good of the Capital. Justice, Ever Forwards. Kal hadn't chosen that. He hadn't chosen to be blown apart in a fiery wreck. He hadn't volunteered to die in one of the most horrendous ways imaginable. He was supposed to have died peacefully, when he was old, with Marina or his children at his side. The suffering and death Marina had witnessed in ten years of service, that had always seemed normal, rational even and her brain could always close it off. This wasn't rational, this wasn't part of the plan. This was Kal.
And she hadn't fixed it. She'd never made it home to repair the damage from their argument. Her last memory of him would be anger and hurt. The last time she would ever see him would be as he'd stormed away from her, slamming the door behind him.
Tomorrow, she had said. We'll fix it tomorrow.
No, that wasn't right. Ashe had said tomorrow. Ashe had said he'd be there. Ashe had pulled her away from the man she loved for a night of hollow, meaningless revelry and like a fool, Marina had toddled along, trying to fit in. Trying to find something else outside of her own, actual worries.
Ashe Marvel and his fucking drinks.
Ashe Marvel.
Marina hated him.
It had seemed like days ago that she'd arrived at the scene in the Swan's commandeered cart. Truthfully, she'd lost track of time but it couldn't have been more than eight hours or so. The cart had been unable to get anywhere near the barracks as the roadblocks and rerouting set up by the emergency services had been wide and far reaching. Yet it had managed to get Marina close enough that she could feel the heat and smell the death when she'd emerged from inside the vehicle.
She'd run, all awareness of her injured ribs and alcohol filled bloodstream forgotten. She'd run past rescue workers, MRO's, and lawmen, bounding over, around and under control barriers and wagons, shoving aside anyone that had tried to stop her. All the while displaying her secure military ID, waving it around frantically in an attempt to quell any protests.
As she'd grown closer, the heat and smoke had become unbearable. The soaring temperatures seemed to pulse in waves through the air, along the streets and down the back alleys. Not hot enough to singe her clothes or skin, but enough that her eyes had stung, making it almost impossible to see. She hadn't seemed able to blink any moisture back into them as the searing heat dried them out within seconds. The smoke had billowed upwards obscuring everything above and making it seem as if the entire district was submerged in a toxic fog of suffering.
Eventually she'd come to a blockade that was impenetrable, a line of fire wagons and rescue crews that had formed an impassable wall around the barracks western watch gate. The crowds of onlookers that had sporadically peppered the streets on her drive there were now almost too thick to penetrate. Se'd pushed through them towards the blockade as huge streams of water roared out of tank-like vehicles ahead, arcing over the walls into the flaming carnage beyond. She'd had a brief flashback to the Ocean Ghost's thunderfall, and imagined the jets pummelling any surviving barracks inhabitants into pulp on the other side. Although she knew the pressure was nowhere near the force of the tider vessel, the memory had caused her a moment of weakness and she'd stumbled briefly before regaining clarity and focus.
By that point, however, she was already screaming, fighting to make it through the cluster of bodies. She'd screamed Kal's name over and over and the screaming had quickly turned to wailing. The pushing, meanwhile, had turned to shoving and before long she'd been actively throwing people aside to make it to the gate. All the while screaming in anguish and rage.
She remembered reaching the blockade, remembered being held back and restrained by lawmen and MRO's. She remembered throwing punches, remembered fighting her way through, her military training seeming to take over instinctively. She remembered Travis appearing with Garvey, she'd remembered yelling at them both. She remembered that she had spat, screamed and thrashed, all the while being held back, tackled, and shouted at. It was all fragmented, the brief flashes of memory jumbled and clouded by the blanket of intense grief.
Somehow she'd made it through the blockade, running past the open gate, past the fire-wagons, and into the maze of burning buildings. Most of the fires had been extinguished, but she remembered navigating her way by memory and by the flickering orange glow of still-burning lodges. There were voices behind her, following her. It may have been Travis, it may have been the law, but she didn't care. She couldn't see past the rage, or past her increasingly blurred vision. If the smoke hadn't attacked her eyes enough it then started to attack her lungs and her eyes watered even more with every cough. She'd covered her mouth with her shirt to try and ward off the worst of it but it had done nothing.
She remembered reaching the smouldering one-story cuboid that had been her home and although she'd passed dozens like it on her run, seeing the wreckage of her own was like a punch to the soul. She'd finally collapsed. She didn't know how she'd known, but a certainty had washed over her then: a certainty that Kal had been inside. A certainty that he was dead. She'd broken down then, holding onto the still-warm tree for support, and wept. She'd wept uncontrollably for hours, wailing into the emerging dawn. It was a flood of the deepest, purest anguish imaginable. If she'd have been on the outside of it looking in, she wouldn't have known a human body was capable of such sustained and intense emotional turmoil. Every sob brought a fresh cough and every cough brought a sob, it was a feedback loop of pain that seemed to have no end. Eventually she wasn't even aware of what it was she was crying for, or what she was screaming at. It had seemingly become a natural state of being, as if she'd never known anything else.
At some point Travis had found her and sat with her. She didn't hear the man's words, or feel his embrace, nor was she aware of the emergency officials who'd tried to remove them both from the scene, the arguments and legal threats hurled back and forth went unheard to her. Dawn eventually became morning and at some point after that Travis had left her, whether before or after her anguish had become catatonia Marina didn't know. Nor did she hear the reasons for her companion's departure. Eventually, the emergency workers had left her be too. They flitted in and out of her vision, examining buildings and looking for any dead. It was then that they had found Kal. Somebody in the green and white colours of an MRO spoke to her and tried to get her to stand, Marina was immovable, lost in her own spiral of despair.
And here she was still, barely aware that the coughing had set in quite badly. Her throat was raw and her breathing was laboured. The toxins in the air were dispersing, but she'd sat too long in the thinning smoke, and had taken some damage to her lungs.
Slowly, her thoughts started to organise themselves into some semblance of functionality, although her head was still a thick broth of all the ills of the past few days. Her alleged mutation and suspension would bubble up only to burst and be sloshed over with another wave of grief and loss. The battle of First Province seemed to stir around the edge, only to be folded in with the faces of the dead. Her ribs, in agony again with every cough, were overwhelmed with memories of Kal, who in turn would be swallowed up by fire and the stream of a thunderfall.
Kal. He was gone, and it was Ashe's fault Marina hadn't been there; but if she had been, she'd be dead too, which would surely be preferable than living with this pain. She wished she was dead. She wished they'd gone together. Laughing, repairing their quarrel, remembering why they were in love.
But it didn't matter. He was gone.
The thing that finally brought her out of her trance was a loud alarm blaring from her pocket. Her ears and mind seemed to gradually tune into its miniaturised siren.
She pulled out her datapad, the screen flashing red with a priority banner bearing the Capital coat of arms and hopper insignia. Underneath flashed the words: PRIORITY ALERT - REGISTER CHECK IN. Marina pressed her thumb to the designated space and waited as the alarm silenced and the banner faded. Within a few seconds, the screen turned green and displayed her number and rank with instructions to report to the Royal Court Assembly Hall.
She threw the device aside, it skittered along the barren ground, ricocheting off of a piece of rubble.
Why bother? What was she fighting for if not for Kal? If not for their life together? Besides, her services were no longer required. Rendered inert because of a medical anomaly someone should have an answer for and didn't. She had no life, no future and no career. No home.
She let out a snorting chuckle, the thought that she was homeless had only just occurred to her. The military would rehouse her of course, yet if her suspension became a permanent discharge, that wouldn't even be a guarantee. The chuckle seemed to break through her grief somewhat, and for the first time in hours she looked up and around at the ruined courtyard surrounding her, taking it in for the last time. The MRO's crawled over the scene like green-and-white coloured termites on a mound, working to recover the dead and secure any high risk areas.
Marina looked down at her now cracked datapad and let out a hacking cough. The alert meant either two things: that her suspension had still not been fully authorised and was moving its way slowly along the channels of bureaucracy, or it no longer mattered and the call had been put out for all available military personnel regardless of status. Didn't she have to report to Canhos today? To sign off on the forms that would turn her from soldier to lab rat? Maybe. She had no idea what time it was. Yesterday already seemed weeks ago.
The cracked datapad screen continued to draw her attention and a flicker of curiosity tickled the back of her mind but was quickly suppressed by a fresh wave of anguish. Kal's face crashed through her mind like a torrent. Images of him laughing, sleeping, gasping and crying out as they made love. The grief threatened to consume Marina again and she could feel her heart racing, the panic setting in once more. In desperation and with no other idea of how to stop it, she punched herself in the face. The effect was instantaneous. Kal's face vanished in a constellation of newly flashing stars. She swallowed down everything, literally and figuratively. The physical act of swallowing felt like her throat was being torn out, but it helped calm her emotional state. Swallow the pain. Act first, grief later. Duty first. Contain the emotion, pack it away, process it later. When the mission is done, then is the time for emotional fragility.
It was like a trigger had been pulled in her head, the pistol of her military training had been fired. The conditioning overtook everything else and Kal vanished. She wasn't even aware of it. That part of her brain was gone. Buried under years of training and discipline.
The alert had called her and suspended or not, it was her duty to answer. Just as it always had been.
Marina tried to stand, and found she couldn't. She was too weak. Too stiff. She'd been sitting in the same position for hours. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck in an attempt to loosen herself up, and then, supporting herself on the tree branch, she pushed herself upwards. Her back cracked, her knees ground, and her ribs and diaphragm were in a pain beyond description. She was certain that the coughing and screaming had broken something again. Her whole body screamed in agony, but she was standing.
Holding her stomach, she took her first tentative step and felt a twinge in her back that couldn't represent anything good, but she was moving. Another step. Then another. She paused to pick up her damaged datapad, just about finding the strength and will power to drag herself up from the ground a second time.
Marina slowly shuffled her way through the courtyard, away from the barracks and away from her old life. She didn't look back. She didn't need to. She felt an ominous sense, almost a certainty, that she'd never be back there again. She couldn't explain it but it formed with a clarity that was almost like relief.
Gradually her shuffle became a waddle, each step getting easier than the last. The Capital had summoned her and she would answer. As she always had.
Justice. Ever Forwards.
Friday, 15 March 2019
010: JAYNA - EQUATORIAL DISTRICT - NIGHT 2
Jayna watched the smoke and flame rise into the darkness, giving the city below a red glow that made it appear hostile and harsh. The night had been mostly clear, but now the blanket of stars that hung over the spires and bridges was gone, obscured by the thick plume that was choked up from below. Her city was in pain, coughing up a cloud of death and destruction.
She was incredulous, truth be told. After she'd been sharply awoken by the frantic knocking at her quarters door and told the news she thought she'd be angry, or sad, or some strange combination of both mixed up in a concoction of grief and rage. But here she stood at the large South-West facing window looking out at the barracks burning below her and she was almost paralyzed with disbelief. She was aware of a sense of detachment, a misplacement of sorts.
This just doesn't happen.
It was a simple enough thought. Its simplicity seemingly at odds with the complexity and magnitude of the situation. However she could not stop her mind turning over the matter-of-fact nature of what she was looking at.
The most secure place on the continent. The hub of everything. Of our society. This just doesn't happen.
And then, somewhere in her subconscious, something else clicked into place with almost perfect clarity.
They've done it. They've breached us too.
First Province had been a test run, or a warning. She knew this as clearly as she knew the sky was blue.
Although she'd been awoken by a court guard informing her of the accident, she hadn't really been asleep. She'd been up until the early hours, her mind unable to rest or shut out the image of Omega Ark. She was still processing seeing the behemoth with her own eyes. History as she'd known it was unravelling as fast as her mind churned. Her restlessness had been like an itch she couldn't scratch. She'd paced the room, reading or researching any history she had access to about the Landing and initial colonisation of Lemuria. When she wasn't pacing she was doodling - images of what she'd seen, trying to leave a clearer impression of what was already disappearing into the archive knowledge of her mind. She'd written lists and charts too, including but not limited to: any possible biological or technological threat the ark posed, the pros and cons of accessing the ancient technology, any parties who may have an interest in it, and finally - any parties who may abuse the knowledge. Any administration-based method she could find to process the enormity of the secret that had been shared with her she'd done so. She read over the minutes from that mornings meeting and they had mixed with her new found knowledge into a foggy soup of paranoia and panicked planning. The terrifying possibility that the tiders had found a way to breach parliamentary defences collided again and again with the curious, yet fearful excitement she felt towards the arks existence.
Once the box is opened, then anyone can use it' contents.
Had that already happened? Was the Capital itself already enough of a treasure trove of corruptible possibility? Of course it was. Without a doubt. It always had been. Living in Equatorial District was literally living in a fortress, protected and robust in every sense; architecturally, technologically, and governmentally. Things didn't spontaneously blow up, accidents like this didn't happen.
Unless somebody causes it.
By the time she had eventually settled her frantic mind into a place where sleep seemed possible, the knock had come within minutes of her closing her eyes. She must have fallen into a deep unconsciousness almost instantly, as the thunderous explosion outside had not stirred her in the slightest. The frantic, aggressive knocking, however, had. The puzzling unpredictability of the human psyche.
And so she stood at the window, not really taking in any details of what she was seeing down below but merely allowing her eyes to glaze over it all, something to look at while her subconscious mind processed the scene and what it could mean moving forwards. The smoke obscured almost everything except the amber and blue flashes of the fire wagons as the crews worked desperately to suppress the flames, the occasional arcs of water cresting above and then falling back onto the flickering orange tendrils. It formed a rhythm that was almost soothing.
The window was firmly closed, but there was still a slight draft creeping in, bringing with it the faint aroma of burning brick and wood. The large chiffon summer curtain that still hung loosely after being quickly drawn aside, brushed her arm. It brought her out of her trance.
She turned away from the fiery carnage towards the large screen in her office space. It offered no comfort, just more destruction. High definition images of the scene outside played on a loop from various news channels and what she was unable to see through the window, she could see in perfect clarity in her apartment instead. Scrolling tickers along the bottom of the feed displayed estimated casualty numbers, speculated on causes or placed blame on numerous internal and external parties, but tiders was naturally the most common explanation and it did nothing to detract Jayna from her current train of thought, or to dissuade her from her suspicions. Tiders. The word flashed up innumerable times, each time chipping away at her calm a little more. According to the scrolling updates, the known casualties already numbered in the hundreds, both military and civilian. Hoppers and their families, adults and children alike.
Murdered.
She rubbed her eyes, forcing herself to keep an open mind to other possibilities but she couldn't. She hated herself for jumping to conclusions, it went against everything she had been taught. Jayna moved to the living area and perched on the edge of the sofa, still half watching the barrage of information in front of her. There was no definitive indication of what had happened of course, until the fires were out and the damage was able to be examined properly, all they had were frantic assumptions and guesses.
Tiders.
Although her exact ideas of what had perhaps happened weren't quite fully formed, they continued to stir in the back of her mind, gently stewing. Of course she had nothing else to do but stew, she'd been ordered to remain in her quarters until further instructions were issued, as was protocol for high ranking officials and members of the ruling body if there was a potential breach on Capital soil; but until that possibility was confirmed she was to remain confined and on alert. When the notification did eventually come through, it would be to either stand down, or evacuate.
"I should be out there," she said to no one. "Helping."
Or with the Cabinet, solving this. The key members of the Cabinet were exempt from priority isolation. She knew that they were assembled downstairs - they'd have all arrived within minutes of the explosion - and were no doubt planning, adapting, and sending and receiving endless updates and reports. It agitated her not to be with them, not with her father.
She started to get impatient. Her initial shock was now entirely replaced by a sense of urgency and helplessness. And anger. That started to rear its head too. She appreciated the clarity it brought as her head had felt foggy even before the news. Whether that was from being roused from a short but seemingly deep sleep, or from processing what she'd been shown that morning she couldn't be sure. Her entire understanding of history had been pulled from under her and her mind would not stop turning over the revelation and the questions it presented.
Could it be mainland terrorists? Representatives of the seceding outlying regions? Is the revolt further along than the Cabinet suspected? This seemed much more likely than tiders, and somewhat more comforting. It was perhaps a lie. But one she was happy to tell herself, nonetheless. She fixed her thoughts on that. It helped.
This disaster though, on the same day that her father had revealed the ark to her? It seemed too coincidental, and yet she couldn't see how they could possibly be connected. There were so many threads dangling in front of her and she had no idea which one to pull.
She picked up her datapad and thumbed off the security lock before placing it on her lap. She opened up her priority message threads before realising that she had nothing useful to say, and therefore no one to contact. Everyone she knew, or anyone of importance was either safe in isolation like her, or assembled in the Cabinet room downstairs. She suddenly felt incredibly lonely, not just physically isolated, but emotionally too. As she had no fully formed suggestions or ideas and everything that she could think of doing to help would already be being handled by the Cabinet and emergency services she wasn't going to clog up the threads with pointless queries and well-wishes. She threw the pad aside, frustrated, then thought better of it. Perhaps there had been some feeds uploaded to high security channels from surveillance cams, or any potential flyovers that may have offered further insight that the media couldn't -
There was an unusual thud at the door, an off rhythm knock. She heard the faint sound of voices on the other side.
Jayna swung herself off of the couch and headed to the small security monitor. Her mother stood in the hallway, facing off the two court guards permanently stationed outside the apartment. She watched on the monitor as her mother gesticulated at them, the two guards trying unsuccessfully to placate her. Jayna released the lock and opened the door.
"Sorry Heiress, but she was quite insistent -" the guard was cut off as Ophelia Suri breezed past him into the room.
"It's fine, Seargent. I'll take it from here." Jayna smiled and nodded her thanks.
"As you wish, my lady."
She closed the door. "Mother, what are you doing -"
"Out of quarters? Violating protocol? I was bored, claustrophobic and wanted some company."
"Ninaj and Laslo -"
"Have been sent home to be with their families, there's no need keeping them here unwarranted."
Despite being in her own night attire, her mother somehow looked radiant and far neater than she should have for the time of night. Her greying hair was tied up in a quaint bun that looked like it hadn't been slept upon and her eyes were alert and sharp under the barely noticeable makeup that tastefully shaded her lids.
"Have you even slept?" Jayna asked.
"I was up late, actually Ninaj and Laslo were still with me, going over submissions for the next exhibition." Her mother waved her hand causally. "So, was I in bed when the proverbial turd hit the windmill? No. I've been following it from the start. We heard the bang actually. Although bang seems a rather delicate word."
"If father knew you were here - "
"He does. I told him as much. I told him I was sending a message to check on Edric and reminding him that we actually have a son, as I assumed it would slip his mind."
"And what of Edric?"
"Well, very well. The school is on lockdown. High alert. All the usual. He's safe should the worst happen."
"You don't think it will?"
"I think accidents happen. Unfortunate accidents, but accidents nonetheless."
Jayna only nodded, solemnly. She suddenly found it very difficult to look at the woman.
Your mother and brother don't know, for their own protection more than anything else.
Her fathers words echoed in her head. It felt wrong, having this knowledge, keeping a secret of such import from the woman most dear to her in the world. Hopefully, as the months passed, Jayna would be able to push the ark to the back of her mind, almost forgotten. A brief wave of anger towards her father flushed through her.
"Jayna?" Ophelia moved to her, held her at arm's length. "What's wrong?"
Jayna forced herself to look up, keeping her face as normal as she could given the circumstances. She wouldn't betray her fathers trust. It would, after all, be treason.
"We lost three of the city's defence turrets tonight. In the explosion."
"I'm aware, yes."
"That still leaves us at eighty-five per-cent air defence capability. That's not including ASV's and additional armaments. We actually only need to be at sixty per-cent to have green level defence, but that's not what concerns me." It immediately felt better vocalising her thoughts, it helped to organise everything, and to try and form a clearer hypothesis.
Her mother sat, her smile proud. "I forget how much you've learned."
"After the Cabinet meeting, Father spoke about concerns among some of the regents, and in fact the general populace about a feeling of dissatisfaction with our tenure. There is talk of revolts, coastal factions seceding and the like. He's confident that the issues will be resolved-"
"He's worried, he's spoken of it often," her mother said simply. "I wouldn't say the speculation is completely unfounded, but what does this have to do with...." she trailed off, sighing. "You think tonight is domestic?"
Jayna shook her head, once again standing at the window, letting the scene below fuel her thoughts.
"What if this wasn't an accident? What if it was sabotage, or an attack? Conveniently focused on our military resources. Maybe it was aimed to take out the turrets specifically. Maybe it wasn't. Or maybe it was and has failed. In any case my mind keeps turning back to First Province and the way that their defences were disabled." Jayna fell silent, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. "And then, as if from nowhere, a somewhat similar attack -"
"If it is one." Ophelia interjected.
"- if it is one, occurs on Capital soil within two days? Coincidences only go so far." Jayna shook her head, trying to clear away the fog. "Separatists, tiders, cannons. It's all spinning around my head like I can only see pieces of the picture and none of it will clear or find its place. I know that if I was in that room with them that I could help. With full access to intelligence and data. Not locked out like some helpless damsel. I'm the successor to the Chair! I have every right to be in that room with them."
"Perhaps you're seeing patterns that aren't there -"
"You don't understand," Jayna said, shocked at how much petulance was in her voice. She steadied herself.
"You don't understand because you don't have access to the information that I do."
Ophelia was silent, she studied Jayna with the probing look that only a mother could give. Jayna looked away, fearful she may break under the gaze.
"What if First Province was a test run, Mother? What if it is tiders?"
"Those turrets were...controlled...turned against the city's own citizens," Ophelia said. "This - outside, this is not that. It is a horrible, horrible accident. Nothing more. The explosion has originated from inside the walls. Localised. There are no cannons pointing towards the Court,"
"Yet." Jayna felt the word land like a lead weight.
After a few moments of silence, Ophelia spoke gently, honestly. "What would you have us do?"
Jayna sighed, her whole body seeming to deflate.
"I honestly don't know."
Ophelia patted the couch and Jayna sat next to her, resting her head on her mother's shoulder. The woman's perfume gently caressed Jayna's nose, it was pleasant and comforting.
"The hopper who led the response to First Province, Commander O'Reilly, seemed so certain that the tiders had gained access to the weapons systems." She was surprised that O'Reilly had entered her thoughts, she'd been so preoccupied with everything else, she'd almost forgotten about the brave men and women who'd fallen in the disaster. She felt a pang of guilt.
"I'm unfamiliar with him," her mother said simply.
"Her. Mistakes were made. By us. By the cabinet. Arrogant, silly mistakes and it cost lives that mattered." Another wave of anger washed through her, she swallowed it. "What if we have gotten comfortable? Complacent? What if that is what led to yesterday? Perhaps tonight? We're a powerful nation but we aren't all powerful. Just look outside. I may have to manage this someday, and honestly I'm not sure if I want to."
And I'm not sure I want to sit atop that thing down there.
Her mother stroked her gently, listening without judgement.
"If we've grown so...arrogant, so dictatorial, then it's no wonder we're losing the people."
"Politics is, as politics does," her mother said. "It hasn't changed in thousands of years. It never will."
"Powell wants to punish Ashe Marvel," Jayna said simply.
"The sportsman?" Her mother said surprised.
"He was in the battalion. He made some... unorthodox decisions, disobeyed orders but it turned the tide. Seemingly, arrogance disapproves of arrogance."
"And what do you make of his decision?"
"I side with Commander O'Reilly. I think that minimising tragedy is what counts. Outside the box thinking is not something to be punished."
"Powell is a predatory bitch," Ophelia said simply.
"Mother!" Jayna sat bolt upright, her shock failing to hide her smile.
"More concerned about public media opinion than doing a fair and concise job. If there was a way for her to get your fathers chair, she would. Although if there was a fair and watertight way your father could oust her from his side, he would."
"I had no idea." Truthfully, Jayna was not entirely unsurprised, but to hear it said so brazenly was still a shock. She was still smiling as she stood up, stretching out. She needed to relieve herself and headed towards the bathroom.
"Excuse me," she said. "Keep that thought, Mother, I'm keen to hear more."
"I have no doubt you are." Ophelia laughed.
It was nice to hear the laughter, the tension and worry seemed to suddenly evaporate from the room. Jayna was glad to have her company.
She stopped. The headline on the news screen froze her in her tracks.
"Goodness me, there he is!" her mother said with equal surprise.
DISGRACED COLONIAL GAMES WINNER ASHE MARVEL RECOVERED FROM BARRACKS EXPLOSION.
The footage above the alert showed a small rescue crew escorting a stumbling, coughing Marvel through the destruction. He was wrapped in a blanket and was barefoot, possibly wearing very little else. The drone-cam moved in closer just in time to show the man vomit over the shoes of a medic before being laid on a stretcher. Tendrils of smoke drifted in front of the image.
The type changed to a smaller scrolling font. 'Dozen Gold Medal Winner Found Wandering Street, Naked and Intoxicated.'
"This will be one for his publicist to unravel," her mother said, her voice almost fading into the background.
"Mm,' Jayna mustered a non-committal grunt.
Turrets. Explosions. Tiders. Separatists. Arks. And now Marvel. Another ingredient into the miasma of paranoia. Another piece in the puzzle. Another, one could argue, unusual coincidence.
Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow, I'll have all the answers I want.
Unbeknownst to her, she would. At the cost of everything else.
She was incredulous, truth be told. After she'd been sharply awoken by the frantic knocking at her quarters door and told the news she thought she'd be angry, or sad, or some strange combination of both mixed up in a concoction of grief and rage. But here she stood at the large South-West facing window looking out at the barracks burning below her and she was almost paralyzed with disbelief. She was aware of a sense of detachment, a misplacement of sorts.
This just doesn't happen.
It was a simple enough thought. Its simplicity seemingly at odds with the complexity and magnitude of the situation. However she could not stop her mind turning over the matter-of-fact nature of what she was looking at.
The most secure place on the continent. The hub of everything. Of our society. This just doesn't happen.
And then, somewhere in her subconscious, something else clicked into place with almost perfect clarity.
They've done it. They've breached us too.
First Province had been a test run, or a warning. She knew this as clearly as she knew the sky was blue.
Although she'd been awoken by a court guard informing her of the accident, she hadn't really been asleep. She'd been up until the early hours, her mind unable to rest or shut out the image of Omega Ark. She was still processing seeing the behemoth with her own eyes. History as she'd known it was unravelling as fast as her mind churned. Her restlessness had been like an itch she couldn't scratch. She'd paced the room, reading or researching any history she had access to about the Landing and initial colonisation of Lemuria. When she wasn't pacing she was doodling - images of what she'd seen, trying to leave a clearer impression of what was already disappearing into the archive knowledge of her mind. She'd written lists and charts too, including but not limited to: any possible biological or technological threat the ark posed, the pros and cons of accessing the ancient technology, any parties who may have an interest in it, and finally - any parties who may abuse the knowledge. Any administration-based method she could find to process the enormity of the secret that had been shared with her she'd done so. She read over the minutes from that mornings meeting and they had mixed with her new found knowledge into a foggy soup of paranoia and panicked planning. The terrifying possibility that the tiders had found a way to breach parliamentary defences collided again and again with the curious, yet fearful excitement she felt towards the arks existence.
Once the box is opened, then anyone can use it' contents.
Had that already happened? Was the Capital itself already enough of a treasure trove of corruptible possibility? Of course it was. Without a doubt. It always had been. Living in Equatorial District was literally living in a fortress, protected and robust in every sense; architecturally, technologically, and governmentally. Things didn't spontaneously blow up, accidents like this didn't happen.
Unless somebody causes it.
By the time she had eventually settled her frantic mind into a place where sleep seemed possible, the knock had come within minutes of her closing her eyes. She must have fallen into a deep unconsciousness almost instantly, as the thunderous explosion outside had not stirred her in the slightest. The frantic, aggressive knocking, however, had. The puzzling unpredictability of the human psyche.
And so she stood at the window, not really taking in any details of what she was seeing down below but merely allowing her eyes to glaze over it all, something to look at while her subconscious mind processed the scene and what it could mean moving forwards. The smoke obscured almost everything except the amber and blue flashes of the fire wagons as the crews worked desperately to suppress the flames, the occasional arcs of water cresting above and then falling back onto the flickering orange tendrils. It formed a rhythm that was almost soothing.
The window was firmly closed, but there was still a slight draft creeping in, bringing with it the faint aroma of burning brick and wood. The large chiffon summer curtain that still hung loosely after being quickly drawn aside, brushed her arm. It brought her out of her trance.
She turned away from the fiery carnage towards the large screen in her office space. It offered no comfort, just more destruction. High definition images of the scene outside played on a loop from various news channels and what she was unable to see through the window, she could see in perfect clarity in her apartment instead. Scrolling tickers along the bottom of the feed displayed estimated casualty numbers, speculated on causes or placed blame on numerous internal and external parties, but tiders was naturally the most common explanation and it did nothing to detract Jayna from her current train of thought, or to dissuade her from her suspicions. Tiders. The word flashed up innumerable times, each time chipping away at her calm a little more. According to the scrolling updates, the known casualties already numbered in the hundreds, both military and civilian. Hoppers and their families, adults and children alike.
Murdered.
She rubbed her eyes, forcing herself to keep an open mind to other possibilities but she couldn't. She hated herself for jumping to conclusions, it went against everything she had been taught. Jayna moved to the living area and perched on the edge of the sofa, still half watching the barrage of information in front of her. There was no definitive indication of what had happened of course, until the fires were out and the damage was able to be examined properly, all they had were frantic assumptions and guesses.
Tiders.
Although her exact ideas of what had perhaps happened weren't quite fully formed, they continued to stir in the back of her mind, gently stewing. Of course she had nothing else to do but stew, she'd been ordered to remain in her quarters until further instructions were issued, as was protocol for high ranking officials and members of the ruling body if there was a potential breach on Capital soil; but until that possibility was confirmed she was to remain confined and on alert. When the notification did eventually come through, it would be to either stand down, or evacuate.
"I should be out there," she said to no one. "Helping."
Or with the Cabinet, solving this. The key members of the Cabinet were exempt from priority isolation. She knew that they were assembled downstairs - they'd have all arrived within minutes of the explosion - and were no doubt planning, adapting, and sending and receiving endless updates and reports. It agitated her not to be with them, not with her father.
She started to get impatient. Her initial shock was now entirely replaced by a sense of urgency and helplessness. And anger. That started to rear its head too. She appreciated the clarity it brought as her head had felt foggy even before the news. Whether that was from being roused from a short but seemingly deep sleep, or from processing what she'd been shown that morning she couldn't be sure. Her entire understanding of history had been pulled from under her and her mind would not stop turning over the revelation and the questions it presented.
Could it be mainland terrorists? Representatives of the seceding outlying regions? Is the revolt further along than the Cabinet suspected? This seemed much more likely than tiders, and somewhat more comforting. It was perhaps a lie. But one she was happy to tell herself, nonetheless. She fixed her thoughts on that. It helped.
This disaster though, on the same day that her father had revealed the ark to her? It seemed too coincidental, and yet she couldn't see how they could possibly be connected. There were so many threads dangling in front of her and she had no idea which one to pull.
She picked up her datapad and thumbed off the security lock before placing it on her lap. She opened up her priority message threads before realising that she had nothing useful to say, and therefore no one to contact. Everyone she knew, or anyone of importance was either safe in isolation like her, or assembled in the Cabinet room downstairs. She suddenly felt incredibly lonely, not just physically isolated, but emotionally too. As she had no fully formed suggestions or ideas and everything that she could think of doing to help would already be being handled by the Cabinet and emergency services she wasn't going to clog up the threads with pointless queries and well-wishes. She threw the pad aside, frustrated, then thought better of it. Perhaps there had been some feeds uploaded to high security channels from surveillance cams, or any potential flyovers that may have offered further insight that the media couldn't -
There was an unusual thud at the door, an off rhythm knock. She heard the faint sound of voices on the other side.
Jayna swung herself off of the couch and headed to the small security monitor. Her mother stood in the hallway, facing off the two court guards permanently stationed outside the apartment. She watched on the monitor as her mother gesticulated at them, the two guards trying unsuccessfully to placate her. Jayna released the lock and opened the door.
"Sorry Heiress, but she was quite insistent -" the guard was cut off as Ophelia Suri breezed past him into the room.
"It's fine, Seargent. I'll take it from here." Jayna smiled and nodded her thanks.
"As you wish, my lady."
She closed the door. "Mother, what are you doing -"
"Out of quarters? Violating protocol? I was bored, claustrophobic and wanted some company."
"Ninaj and Laslo -"
"Have been sent home to be with their families, there's no need keeping them here unwarranted."
Despite being in her own night attire, her mother somehow looked radiant and far neater than she should have for the time of night. Her greying hair was tied up in a quaint bun that looked like it hadn't been slept upon and her eyes were alert and sharp under the barely noticeable makeup that tastefully shaded her lids.
"Have you even slept?" Jayna asked.
"I was up late, actually Ninaj and Laslo were still with me, going over submissions for the next exhibition." Her mother waved her hand causally. "So, was I in bed when the proverbial turd hit the windmill? No. I've been following it from the start. We heard the bang actually. Although bang seems a rather delicate word."
"If father knew you were here - "
"He does. I told him as much. I told him I was sending a message to check on Edric and reminding him that we actually have a son, as I assumed it would slip his mind."
"And what of Edric?"
"Well, very well. The school is on lockdown. High alert. All the usual. He's safe should the worst happen."
"You don't think it will?"
"I think accidents happen. Unfortunate accidents, but accidents nonetheless."
Jayna only nodded, solemnly. She suddenly found it very difficult to look at the woman.
Your mother and brother don't know, for their own protection more than anything else.
Her fathers words echoed in her head. It felt wrong, having this knowledge, keeping a secret of such import from the woman most dear to her in the world. Hopefully, as the months passed, Jayna would be able to push the ark to the back of her mind, almost forgotten. A brief wave of anger towards her father flushed through her.
"Jayna?" Ophelia moved to her, held her at arm's length. "What's wrong?"
Jayna forced herself to look up, keeping her face as normal as she could given the circumstances. She wouldn't betray her fathers trust. It would, after all, be treason.
"We lost three of the city's defence turrets tonight. In the explosion."
"I'm aware, yes."
"That still leaves us at eighty-five per-cent air defence capability. That's not including ASV's and additional armaments. We actually only need to be at sixty per-cent to have green level defence, but that's not what concerns me." It immediately felt better vocalising her thoughts, it helped to organise everything, and to try and form a clearer hypothesis.
Her mother sat, her smile proud. "I forget how much you've learned."
"After the Cabinet meeting, Father spoke about concerns among some of the regents, and in fact the general populace about a feeling of dissatisfaction with our tenure. There is talk of revolts, coastal factions seceding and the like. He's confident that the issues will be resolved-"
"He's worried, he's spoken of it often," her mother said simply. "I wouldn't say the speculation is completely unfounded, but what does this have to do with...." she trailed off, sighing. "You think tonight is domestic?"
Jayna shook her head, once again standing at the window, letting the scene below fuel her thoughts.
"What if this wasn't an accident? What if it was sabotage, or an attack? Conveniently focused on our military resources. Maybe it was aimed to take out the turrets specifically. Maybe it wasn't. Or maybe it was and has failed. In any case my mind keeps turning back to First Province and the way that their defences were disabled." Jayna fell silent, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. "And then, as if from nowhere, a somewhat similar attack -"
"If it is one." Ophelia interjected.
"- if it is one, occurs on Capital soil within two days? Coincidences only go so far." Jayna shook her head, trying to clear away the fog. "Separatists, tiders, cannons. It's all spinning around my head like I can only see pieces of the picture and none of it will clear or find its place. I know that if I was in that room with them that I could help. With full access to intelligence and data. Not locked out like some helpless damsel. I'm the successor to the Chair! I have every right to be in that room with them."
"Perhaps you're seeing patterns that aren't there -"
"You don't understand," Jayna said, shocked at how much petulance was in her voice. She steadied herself.
"You don't understand because you don't have access to the information that I do."
Ophelia was silent, she studied Jayna with the probing look that only a mother could give. Jayna looked away, fearful she may break under the gaze.
"What if First Province was a test run, Mother? What if it is tiders?"
"Those turrets were...controlled...turned against the city's own citizens," Ophelia said. "This - outside, this is not that. It is a horrible, horrible accident. Nothing more. The explosion has originated from inside the walls. Localised. There are no cannons pointing towards the Court,"
"Yet." Jayna felt the word land like a lead weight.
After a few moments of silence, Ophelia spoke gently, honestly. "What would you have us do?"
Jayna sighed, her whole body seeming to deflate.
"I honestly don't know."
Ophelia patted the couch and Jayna sat next to her, resting her head on her mother's shoulder. The woman's perfume gently caressed Jayna's nose, it was pleasant and comforting.
"The hopper who led the response to First Province, Commander O'Reilly, seemed so certain that the tiders had gained access to the weapons systems." She was surprised that O'Reilly had entered her thoughts, she'd been so preoccupied with everything else, she'd almost forgotten about the brave men and women who'd fallen in the disaster. She felt a pang of guilt.
"I'm unfamiliar with him," her mother said simply.
"Her. Mistakes were made. By us. By the cabinet. Arrogant, silly mistakes and it cost lives that mattered." Another wave of anger washed through her, she swallowed it. "What if we have gotten comfortable? Complacent? What if that is what led to yesterday? Perhaps tonight? We're a powerful nation but we aren't all powerful. Just look outside. I may have to manage this someday, and honestly I'm not sure if I want to."
And I'm not sure I want to sit atop that thing down there.
Her mother stroked her gently, listening without judgement.
"If we've grown so...arrogant, so dictatorial, then it's no wonder we're losing the people."
"Politics is, as politics does," her mother said. "It hasn't changed in thousands of years. It never will."
"Powell wants to punish Ashe Marvel," Jayna said simply.
"The sportsman?" Her mother said surprised.
"He was in the battalion. He made some... unorthodox decisions, disobeyed orders but it turned the tide. Seemingly, arrogance disapproves of arrogance."
"And what do you make of his decision?"
"I side with Commander O'Reilly. I think that minimising tragedy is what counts. Outside the box thinking is not something to be punished."
"Powell is a predatory bitch," Ophelia said simply.
"Mother!" Jayna sat bolt upright, her shock failing to hide her smile.
"More concerned about public media opinion than doing a fair and concise job. If there was a way for her to get your fathers chair, she would. Although if there was a fair and watertight way your father could oust her from his side, he would."
"I had no idea." Truthfully, Jayna was not entirely unsurprised, but to hear it said so brazenly was still a shock. She was still smiling as she stood up, stretching out. She needed to relieve herself and headed towards the bathroom.
"Excuse me," she said. "Keep that thought, Mother, I'm keen to hear more."
"I have no doubt you are." Ophelia laughed.
It was nice to hear the laughter, the tension and worry seemed to suddenly evaporate from the room. Jayna was glad to have her company.
She stopped. The headline on the news screen froze her in her tracks.
"Goodness me, there he is!" her mother said with equal surprise.
DISGRACED COLONIAL GAMES WINNER ASHE MARVEL RECOVERED FROM BARRACKS EXPLOSION.
The footage above the alert showed a small rescue crew escorting a stumbling, coughing Marvel through the destruction. He was wrapped in a blanket and was barefoot, possibly wearing very little else. The drone-cam moved in closer just in time to show the man vomit over the shoes of a medic before being laid on a stretcher. Tendrils of smoke drifted in front of the image.
The type changed to a smaller scrolling font. 'Dozen Gold Medal Winner Found Wandering Street, Naked and Intoxicated.'
"This will be one for his publicist to unravel," her mother said, her voice almost fading into the background.
"Mm,' Jayna mustered a non-committal grunt.
Turrets. Explosions. Tiders. Separatists. Arks. And now Marvel. Another ingredient into the miasma of paranoia. Another piece in the puzzle. Another, one could argue, unusual coincidence.
Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow, I'll have all the answers I want.
Unbeknownst to her, she would. At the cost of everything else.
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