Chapter 22

“Sir, it’s Legater Ackerg’s office.”

Station Riga’s manager exuded a heavy sigh as he set down a report from the Communication Department. A troubling read at that, but not one worth agonizing over.

“This should be good...”

“He’s requesting more information on the vaccine’s distribution site so that he might ease some of the public unrest.”

“Secure a spot at the front of the line you mean.”

The young staff member grimaced but didn’t offer any form of rebuttal. Instead he watched silently as the older man stood from his desk to accept the call.

“Hold this job as long as I have and you’ll learn to translate all kinds of political blarney.”

The two proceeded into an adjoining room where another staff member could be seen smothering the receiver, acutely aware of the kind of comment their boss would make in response to such a hail. They quickly handed him the phone.

“This is Eagen.”

“Philip, I’m glad to hear you’re alright! I’d gotten word that the situation around the arcade was becoming troublesome and couldn’t help but worry.”

“I suppose I have the swift intervention of your city’s police force to thank for that. Though the commotion outside is steadily growing louder by the hour.”

“Mmm, I trust that things are otherwise going according to schedule on your end? Convoys with Baugh’s name attached do tend to face significant hurdles.”

A loaded question on the Legater’s part as sharing the contents of a field report with third parties was in clear violation of Federation bylaws. And yet the fact he’d just nonchalantly name-dropped Baugh suggested others in the building felt less strongly on the matter.

“With such shrewdness on display it’s a small wonder you weren’t able to intercept the migration of those pesky waterfowl. Certainly would have saved both of us a lot of trouble.”

The office staff witnessing this exchange betrayed near identical levels of panic at the station manager’s retorts, though the malefactor himself didn’t seem overly concerned about his decorum or lack thereof.

“Yes well, I’m afraid it’s proven rather difficult if not impossible to extend my reach into the animal kingdom.”

Believe it or not such a lighthearted response to what essentially amounted to an attack on the Legater’s character fell well within Eagen’s list of expected rebuttals. The product of a working relationship lasting the better part of two and a half years. An arrangement that seemed poised to come to an end thanks to the man’s delayed response to the current crisis. Perhaps it was precisely because of this reason that the two men decided it was no longer necessary to act in a manner befitting of their stations.

“Now, if we could discuss the location that the convoy will be disembarking...”

“That’s odd, I’d have thought you’d be familiar with my workplace at this stage of our relationship. Or perhaps my hospitality has left something to be desired and you’ve resolved to forget.”

A subdued chortle reached the station manager’s ears.

“Enough prattle old man, we both know that receiving the convoy at Riga is no longer tenable. Not unless you plan to put both the station and field personnel at risk. Personally, I’m more worried about the fates of my misguided constituents. After all your field personnel will be taxed both physically and mentally when they arrive, and with such short fuses it’s not hard to imagine a scenario where an ill-advised projectile or shove devolves into a small-scale massacre.”

“...as much as I’d love to take this opportunity to admonish the sorry excuse for a politician that you are, I can’t refute the chances of such an ugly occurrence with things progressing as they are.”

“You also seem to forget that the LCF relies on each individual city state’s infrastructure for the processing and distribution of its goods. Meaning you’ll need either my or the governor's approval if you intend to make any last-minute changes.”

“Such was our intent. Sorry to say we saw more upside in contacting the latter.”

“I’d figured as much, which is why I’m currently making this call from the lobby of the governor’s office. He should be calling me in for our meeting any moment now. So if you could be so kind as to inform me of the new receiving site, I’ll see to it that all the necessary adjustments are expedited.”

“You ask as if you haven’t already worked it out Ackerg. You also may have thought you were pulling a fast one by calling from the governor’s office, but in truth I’d half-assumed you’d be calling from the location itself by now.”

I’d been a good long while since Eagen was able to discern the appearance of a frown over the phone.

“In the off chance the amphitheater's concessions are up and running, I’d recommend the caramel corn. You’ll need something to pass the time after all.”

*

“Oi, Villard.”

Youn called out to the brunette he was currently sharing the back deck with, having relocated after Lux rotated to the front. As to why he was choosing now to call out to the rookie with whom he had very little rapport, there were two reasons. The first being to settle her down as she’d been running amok the space for the better part of several minutes. And if she kept it up the girl would soon exhaust herself. And the last thing they needed was another member of the security team becoming part of the cargo like Faust.

The second reason was much more mundane, being that Youn needed some advice on a subject unrelated to work. Or maybe insight was the more appropriate word? Then again there was nothing appropriate about approaching someone younger than you for something like this. At least he’d recalled someone mentioning she was younger. Outside of the present moment you be hard pressed to tell based on the level of maturity she regularly displayed.

“Got family?”

The interim security officer slowed her frenzied search for the group from earlier to catch her breath and better process the sudden inquiry. Rather ashamedly her subconscious had produced something along the lines of ‘Yeah, who doesn’t...?’ before recalling a case study on Federation recruits. More specifically the staggering number of those who came from broken homes or directly off the street. There was also a strong chance he was alluding to the presence of an actual familial bond, not simply blood relation. Fortunately that same subconscious had to pass through a series of meticulously placed filters before manifesting its voice in the real world. None more important than the filter labeled ‘empathy.’

“I do.”

“Ever visit any of their resting places?”

Indicative of Esma’s returning senses was the fact she didn’t find this follow-up off-putting or unusual. Whether she was aware and appreciative of Youn’s attempt to calm her down or anticipated an eventual explanation was up for interpretation.

“My grandmother’s, once a year without fail.”

At this point in time that was the extent of what she’d be willing to divulge in terms of her home life, but it should’ve been more than enough to facilitate further dialogue without needless digging. Not that Youn would be interested in pursuing such a topic in the middle of an active raid attempt.

“I’m making plans to visit my father’s grave for the first time. Figure I should bring something to...I don’t know, reconcile? Any recommendations?”

Esma felt her growing urge to retreat into the turret bay subside as she processed his predicament. Maybe because she too found many of her own quandaries often stemmed from unfamiliarity more so than misplaced apprehensions.

“I suppose it would be viewed as customary to bring along flowers or some other form of offering, but I also think it’s important to take the person you’re visiting into account. I mean, would you have gifted flowers to your father when he was still alive?”

“...”

“Of course not. And yet we’ve made it a societal obligation to bestow the deceased with overpriced weeds, all for the sake of some superficial comparison between the beauty of life amongst a backdrop of death.”

Youn smiled as he harassed a pair of party members trying to bridge the gap between their group and a developing approach. A bold move that had placed too much reliance on the mysterious shade enveloping the convoy.

“Not a flower girl I see.”

“What is this a wedding?”

Esma followed her senior’s example, having lost track of the raiders that had been part of her homework.

“What do you bring to weddings?”

“Ask the bride and groom. They’re not dead so you have that luxury.”

“This is starting to feel like the set up to some long joke.”

“Feel free to insert some punchline drawing a comparison between death and marriage.”

“I’m a bit envious of this coping mechanism you’ve developed.”

Esma lowered her rifle and looked over at Youn somewhat pathetically, the air about her shifting to that of a remorseful child who’d been caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

“Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up...”

Despite the sympathy the deck officer felt for the CO in that moment, he couldn’t permit her to leave the deck for a breather. While also being bad for optics, the more immediate issue of an impending raid attempt loomed large now that the party had finished organizing its starting positions. He could tell based on the anticipation present in many of the raider’s body language in conjunction with the steadily increasing drum rhythm.

“Now is as good a time as any to find out rookie. We wouldn’t want that joke of ours to go unrealized.”

The brunette perked back up slightly. Enough to raise her rifle once more.

“You can bring it with you to your grave visit. Really knock ‘em dead.”

It would appear not all of Esma’s filters were up to snuff after all.

*

Much in line with officer Sigurd’s hunch, Cloud Nine had completed the preparations for and commenced an operation that would serve as the crux of the party’s second visit. The plan; take advantage of one of the lesser-known flaws of the offset I-formation and by extension Convoy Commander Dandridge’s relative inexperience in the field.

Because a noteworthy shortcoming of this formation was that it took a bulk of the decision making out of the hands of the CC since the offset Crusader’s movements were reactionary and therefore dependent on the actions taken by the approaches. The more strategically inclined would be quick to point out that this was a two-way street. Just as the approaches dictated the movement of the Crusader, the reverse was also true, and the Crusader could dictate the actions of approaches.

But even those astute enough to identify this flaw would have likely overlooked it for the simple reason that the ideal conditions for deploying this formation were rare to come by. To the extent that any CC who chanced upon the reports from this day would balk at the incompetence of a colleague who failed to properly take advantage of the route. Such was the level of scrutiny Convoy Commander’s faced on a regular basis. Something pro-raiding party’s often formed strategies around. Not unlike the following.

Cloud Nine would begin its deception by making it appear as though it was concentrating its forces on a single point in the convoy. In this case the lead Crusader’s right-facing side. To help sell this illusion they’d approach from a point furthest from the offset Crusader’s active position in the formation. And they’d do so with a healthy number of Demenageurs who up to this point had been used sparingly.

As the main role of Demens in a raiding party was to load and transport raided cargo, their involvement would enforce the idea that the lead Crusader was the approach’s target. In response to this apparent attack on its vanguard the offset Crusader would be left with little choice but to slide back across the formation to fulfill its obligation of providing relief. Then the second stage of Cloud Nine’s plan would commence. A stage relying heavily on timing and coordination, both of which the LCF would be strapped to counter in the wake of the Eidol’s sudden appearance and tenacity.

In conjunction with the mock approach advancing towards the top of the formation a second smaller approach would rally together and close in from the left side of the same Crusader, occupying the space that had just been vacated by the offset Crusader. A maneuver made possible by utilizing the talking drums which didn’t suffer from any of the same setbacks brought upon by the dark apparition.

Ideally the lowered visibility paired with a smooth transition into the relinquished space would give the secondary approach enough leeway to carry out the boarding, but both Hite and Matus knew that the deck officers aboard this convoy weren’t to be underestimated. Especially after their swift response to the first visit’s sneak attack from the tunnels. As such it was expected that they’d notice the feint sooner rather than later. But this would be of little consequence.

Because even if they did notice right away, it would be too dangerous for the pilot of the offset Crusader to suddenly reverse course as doing so would only expose the crew to whiplash in both the figurative and literal sense. In other words, even if the crew onboard the offset Crusader did recognize the ploy, they wouldn’t be equipped to react to it immediately. Giving Cloud Nine the window it needed to establish a foothold on its target.

It should be noted that the objective of this second visit was the successful raid of the single targeted Crusader, as the chances of carrying out successive raids on the second and third before the route narrowed again were slim to none. What’s more, crippling even one of the Crusaders making up the convoy would pay dividends when it came time for the final clash at the site of the last castle.

Such was the plan for the second visit. A skillful weaving of observations from the first and prearranged measures specially prepared with the current route in mind. But as Hite would soon find out, no plan was infallible.

*

“Pull forward and assume C362’s previous position!”

Lautnor relayed the order to the pilot as Sumiye organized the security forces onboard from the bridge’s speaking tubes.

“Don’t expect the entire approach to break off its assault just because we disrupted their timing! We’ll take advantage of our temporary strong side to ensure no raiders make it onto the platform! And remember, we’re not in a place where we can easily receive assistance!”

Confidant the crew would take the head CO’s words to heart, the CC turned his attention to the response their pulling forward would elicit from the approach they’d deduced was a feint. More precisely he listened for any obvious changes to the drumbeats as he had no visual of the other side of the convoy. Nor did he have a reliable way of contacting C362 to ask for one. They still needed to figure out the source of the interference after all, that and the unexplained darkness.

Taking both anomalies into account, Lautnor shuddered to think of the damage that could’ve been done if they’d failed to anticipate an attempt at manipulating the I-formation through bluffing approaches. Not that they were out of the woods just yet. Or stone maze for that matter.

*

Matus and the rest of his escort took a second to process the report regarding the status of Dominique’s approach, listening intently for the difference in drum strokes as they sat under fire from C274. And it was only after they’d confirmed the timely intervention of C471 that they pulled off and sought the edges of the critical distance.

“Now what?!”

Now what indeed.

The LCF had taken on an impromptu tri-formation to erase the opening the Demenageurs had created. But even with that being the case, Matus didn’t believe they’d underestimated the opposing commander. Rather they’d forgotten to account for the counsel of his acting Head Communications Officer. This was something that could have been avoided had the Hussards been able to identify the CO in charge ahead of time. But this individual had clearly taken steps to remain under the Hussard's radar.

“We’ll join Dominique and attack C471.”

“And leave C362 unchecked? Won’t they just slide back over and offer support again?”

“Perhaps, but it’ll be risky for them to gallivant around the formation with comms in its current state.”

“Why, it’s worked so far?”

“Before they had a set condition for motion as well as a means for maneuvering from one side of the convoy to the other, but now that the formation’s changed there’s no defined precedent for repositioning safely.”

“So their main concern is—”

“A collision. Namely the possibility that two Crusaders will cross lines by accident.”

A concern of his as well if Matus was being honest. Because if a collision did occur the likelihood of the cargo escaping unscathed were slim.

“C471 it is then.”

“I’ll assume the gunner position, pass along the order to form up.”

“Yes sir!”

As his man relayed the command Matus thought more about their defunct strategy and how it might have helped more than it hurt them. After all, the plan had always boiled down to approaching wherever the offset Crusader wasn’t. And while said approach had lost some of its momentum due to the quick thinking of the command Crusader, that same command Crusader was now subject to the approach. Meanwhile the aforementioned offset Crusader was stranded on the opposite side of the convoy thanks to the communications blackout.

What gave Matus pause was whether the decision to break formation and intercept using the command Crusader had been a pre-meditated contingency or a snap decision on the part of the CC.

Granted the application of such contingencies varied according to the given CC’s leadership style. Whether this meant the individual was predisposed to paranoia or simply preferred installing a ‘gameplan’ ahead of departure to streamline the response to visits, the result was equally as grating for raiding parties who targeted Galen Runs specifically to avoid such levels of preparedness. What with the paltry amount of time afforded to crews between emergency summons and departure. This combined with Lautnor Dandridge’s relative inexperience at the position led him to believe the latter, however.

We’ll know soon enough.

This was the thought that passed through Matus’ mind as his newly organized approach made the turn and finally got eyes on their comrade’s active boarding attempt. It would prove to be his last though as out of nowhere a violent tremor rocked the front of his chassis, followed shortly thereafter by the buckling of his wheel. This sudden deceleration was enough to whip the party member over his steering column in a downward trajectory, thoughts of contingencies long forgotten. A faint whistle punctuating the man’s unexpected meeting with the ground.

*

“It’s come to my attention that the Council of Health and Wellness has made significant strides on a new drug geared towards combating various pulmonary diseases. Not unlike the one afflicting your mother at current.”

The clerk placed a summary of the medical journal on the desk before sliding it over to the young man across from him.

“It’s ok, I believe you.”

Wash shuffled in his chair uncomfortably as he tried to figure out a way to word his next question without spoiling the man’s uncharacteristically good mood.

“I just don’t understand how this affects the availability of the antibiotic we need? Does it even?”

The bureaucrat reached for something in the desk drawer to his right, a type of form by the looks of it.

“I was getting to that.”

He tapped the seal at the top of the document with his pointer finger.

“This is a copy of the most recent request I sent on your behalf. It explains the circumstances of your mother’s condition and includes a letter of recommendation from the town’s physician.”

Wash would have swallowed if his throat weren’t so dry from work.

“A recommendation for what?”

“A recommendation that she participate in the first round of human trials for the new drug.”

Confusion and exasperation wracked Wash’s form.

“But that antibiotic has proven effective at treating my mother’s illness! Why subject her to something with risk involved?!”

The clerk sighed and interlocked his tidy hands, making it a point to establish eye contact with the anxious young man in front of him.

“Allow me to be blunt. As things stand, the odds of having the initial request filled before the disease runs its course is zero. You need to remember that the LCF is a business, and it is hardly a sound business decision to spend the resources necessary to ship an expensive antibiotic all the way out here for a single case.”

Wash felt like he was going to be sick. To have spent all that time clinging to what he believed was their only recourse, only for it to be ripped away. But he didn’t have the luxury of breaking down right now.

“But they’ll gladly spend those same resources to deliver a drug that might not even work...?!”

“That’s correct. Your mother’s age and how far along her disease has progressed make her a prime candidate in the Council’s eyes. And should her trial prove a success, the drug will be all but guaranteed to receive the stamp of approval for continued funding.”

“Isn’t there any way they could send both drugs just in case?!”

The man lifted the document again and gestured toward a section near the bottom.

“If you’d direct your attention here, you’ll note that the new drug and the existing one are incompatible. Rather taking one after ingesting the other could lead to detrimental side effects. Life-threatening side effects.”

Wash allowed his head to hang between his legs, his hands gripping the roots of his messy hair. It was from this doubled over position he found his voice again. Dejected and hoarse as it was.

“Could I speak to my mother about all of this first...”

“I’m afraid this is a decision that needs to be made now in the interest of securing a spot in the trial. There’s also your mother’s rapid decline in health to account for.”

To think things would come to this. Forced to offer up the fragile life of the woman he treasured more than anything else in the world. But what choice did he have. Every second spent agonizing over the decision was one less second he could spend at her side reassuring her everything would work out somehow. At least one of them had to believe that. And so it was with a heavy heart the young man raised his head and gave a tentative nod, the birthmark beneath his tired eyes more pronounced than ever.

“...we’ll do it.”