False Pretenses

     According to the available numbers military intelligence publicly known as Oros Intelligence, or Oro-Gence, was willing to disclose, the average lifespan for soldiers before flatlining was somewhere around thirteen. This mission, whatever it was meant to be, would be Frederick’s thirtieth since being co-opted by the Republic Military. Of course the numbers varied between governments. Last he checked, that lifespan was around fifteen for the Unimus Electorate. And during his time serving the Electorate, he had performed somewhere between ten and twenty operations.

     Needless to say, Frederick was a survivor, even if sometimes he wished he wasn’t. Whether he wanted to be or not wasn’t up to him. He had resigned his fate to the Divinity the moment the war had ended. Were it to be that the Shepherd would ferry him to the beyond was entirely up to them.

     Frederick hadn’t been particularly religious. Not before the TechnoWar at any rate. But Tafton’s betrayal had stirred something within him, an emptiness he hadn’t known was there. One last grievous wound from the traitor. And it wasn’t until he and Kaia had had many moonlit conversations he realized he needed something to hold onto if not his comrades.

     Kaia had suggested a higher power. And he was willing to give it a try.

     The Dragonfly Blackbird was a marvel of Republic engineering. Vaguely resembling the insect, the carrier could flit about in almost any direction with little loss in speed. A variant of the standard tiltrotor crafts that were common in the military, the engineers had somehow recreated the vibrating wings dragonflies utilized to obtain flight.

     Chaplain Henry was piloting the Dragonfly whilst Roger sat in the copilot chair and Fred sat with Kaia and Ann in the tail. Normally they would take a more typical Bird, but the chaplain said speed was of the essence.

     In truth, while the Dragonfly was an unexpected surprise, it also brought up some lingering questions in the back of Fred’s mind. Everything about the mission seemed off. He understood secrecy. Black Ops was something he was intimately familiar with since signing on with the Republic. But there had always been a level of open communication between the humans and his team that was now lacking. So what was the problem that required even the limiting of information? Perhaps the higher ups are now questioning the integrity of their commitment to the military? Was thirty prior operations not proof enough? Or did the brass on top not trust the two newest members placed on the team?

     Fred surreptitiously glanced over at Ann again. Could she or her brother be traitors? What could have prompted such a change in loyalty for these younger Unimus?

     “What are you looking at,” demanded Ann. There was a sneer in her voice. “Something you like?”

     “You seem to take an inordinate level of care towards your appearance, beyond any other soldier I’ve seen,” he remarked.

     Ann’s sneer turned smug. “I want our enemies to know I beat them looking my best.”

     “Vanity will not help you on the battlefield,” Fred pointed out. “Only the squad can.”

     “If I need help putting my eyeliner on, I’ll let you know.” She scoffed.

     “I wouldn’t advise antagonizing the squad leader,” offered Kaia. “We’re supposed to be working together, not against each other.”

     “I’m not antagonizing,” Ann retorted.

     “Then why disrespect protocol?” Fred interjected.

     “So it’s protocol to look drab during a mission?”

     “Standing out can get you killed,” he replied.

     “Maybe I want to,” She said brashly. “The more they fire at me, the less they’ll fire at either of you or Roger or the chaplain.”

     Ann’s cheeks flushed after uttering that, and she quickly scowled while averting her gaze.

     Her response prompted a smile from Frederick. He leaned back in his seat, smug. “So you do care,” he prompted. “You care more about us than yourself.”

     “Shut up.”

     “There isn’t anything wrong about that,” he teased before sobering up. “Kaia and I are just a pair of expired cannon fodder at this point. Let's not mince words; The Faz Brigade has existed far longer than it has had any right to. This, or the next mission, could be our last.”

     “Cut the chatter!” Scott called back. “We’re about to land.”

     “This is where the fun begins,” Kaia murmured beside him. The Dragonfly dipped towards the ground, angling towards a dilapidated building within a marsh.

     Almost immediately, the space around them was engulfed in explosions. With a deft hand and defter controls, Chaplain Scott evaded the artillery fire with relative ease.

     As he continued his evasive maneuvers, Frederick let out a sigh of relief. A welcome return to the familiar. It wasn’t a war, but it was close enough.

     “Kaia, stand by in case our pilot needs a hand,” he ordered. Without waiting for an answer, Fred turned to Anne. “Private, you might want to get a bit closer.”

     The chaos seemed to make Wolfe queasy, something she was desperately trying to avoid letting them know, and failing at the same time. Without argument, Anne sat on the other side of Kaia, who was now in deep concentration in her seat. Arcs of electricity began to pool out from her, intertwining with the metal frame of the Dragonfly.

     “What the hell?” Anne gasped.

     “Kaia’s generating an ionic barrier around the vehicle,” Fred explained. “Just a thin permeable membrane, really. It won’t eat any hits, but it can repel artillery that might make it too close to our ride.”

     “Like the hairs on spider legs,” exclaimed Anne.

     “Sort of, but it’s more like–”

     “I said cut the chatter!” Scott yelled back.

     The Dragonfly dipped and weaved even more through the chaos, and thanks to Kaia’s augmentation, the descent had become a little smoother than before. The deck shook as Roger manned the cannons, fighting with the emplacements on the ground. A battle of iron and wills took place in the skies between them, and still Fred did not know why they were here.

     A clean up op was out of the question, considering the resistance they were currently experiencing.

     So what was the mission?

     A howl of triumph came from Roger as he successfully eliminated one of the artillery cannons. Moments later, another whoop came from the cockpit as the second cannon was destroyed. The Dragonfly ceased bucking and weaving as it returned to its descent towards the ground.

     “And that, ladies and gents is how it’s done,” Chaplain Scott boasted through their comms. “Please keep your hands and feet within the vehicle until the ride is over, and have a kickass day.”

     Frederick hopped out of the Dragonfly, rifle aimed as if in preparation for attack. Checking his sides he found no one, and finally allowed himself to relax. Holstering his weapon, he banged on the side of the vehicle, giving the signal.

     “Alright, what’s the op?” He growled as the Chaplain disembarked.

    “That’s need to know, and you don’t need to know,” Scott barked back.

     “Bullshit,” Fred retorted. “You haven’t shared any details. We don’t know what we’re facing, and we deserve to know if we’re hunting traitors, terrorists, or a goddamn Leviathan-class monster.”

     The Chaplain’s lip twitched as he ruminated on his words. After a moment, he scowled and unclipped his radio. “Chaplain Scott to Oro-gence,” Scott broadcasted. “Faz Brigade needs a sitrep on the mission, over.”

     His radio crackled with static and shortly after a voice came back. “Chaplain Scott, what the hell are you talking about?” Oro-gence replied. “You haven’t been cleared for any field operations.”

     Henry frowned. “That’s a negative, Command. We’ve been cleared to enter suspected terrorist territory. My men need a sitrep on our mission objectives, over.”

     Oro-gence didn’t reply right away. When it did, the voice was incredibly angry. “Chaplain, neither you nor the Faz Brigade has been cleared for any karking field operations. You have the rest of the day to return to headquarters before the brass up top are cleared to court martial the lot of you into an early grave.”

     With that, the radio went dead, leaving the Chaplain and the Brigade to exchange uneasy glances.

     “What the hell did you pull us into?” Ann demanded.

     “You might have just killed us all,” Kaia exclaimed as she and Roger began holding his sister back.

     The Chaplain’s confidence vanished. “I don’t understand,” he stammered. “I received a missive from a courier, got approval from control to use the Dragonfly. Everything was in order!”

     “What was the mission?” Frederick asked.

     The radio crackled back to life in Scott’s hand as he was about to pocket it. “I can answer that, soldier.”

     “You know why we’re out here?” It was more a statement than a question, but the frustration all of them felt was evident in the Chaplain’s words.

     “Of course I do,” the voice answered back. “I’m the one who sent you out on this mission.”\

     “So you’re the reason we’re AWOL.” Fred growled, taking the radio. “I don’t suppose you could have cleared this with Oro-gence before trying to ruin our lives?”

     There was a sputter on the communicator that might have been laughter. “As if they’d listen to me,” the voice retorted. “They’d have me executed before I’d ever get a word out if I went through the proper channels. And even if I did and they for some reason were willing to listen, they’d only take my research back and repeat the same atrocities I’ve sent you out to prevent in the first place.”

      “Just who in the hell are you?” Chaplain Scott growled.

     “You can call me Rose. And let’s just say I’m a concerned individual who had some of their property stolen,” she replied. “Property that shouldn’t be in the hands of anyone, least of all Cato Horst.”

     The name caused Fred and Kaia to freeze. Even Henry scowled in confusion, though he wasn’t as familiar with Horst’s atrocities as they were.

     “It can’t be,” Fred balked. “That war criminal lost his damn mind by the end of the war.”

     “A convincing façade,” Rose agreed. “And you can guarantee he’s up to no good.”

      Henry locked eyes with him. “How bad is it that Cato is free?”

     “He’s one of the more extreme Argists,” Fred replied. “If he’s who we’re up against, we may as well finish this mission.”

     “In the event you aren’t able to retrieve my property before the Republic declares you as enemies of the state, I am willing to provide any aid I can.” Rose added. “I understand the unfortunate position I’ve put you in, it’s the least I could do.”

     “Damned if we do, damned if we don’t,” Ann spat. “Thanks for the generosity.”

     “I already put you on your dream team, Private. No need to thank me,”

     The words froze Ann. “What the hell did you just say?” She seethed.

     If Rose realized she pinched a nerve, she didn’t give any indication. “Did you really think a pair of privates with barely two missions cumulatively between them would ever get on with one of the most famous squads to survive the TechnoWar?”

     They all glanced at each other. “Well, I mean, it could happen.” Roger said sheepishly.

     “Could wasn’t good enough. That’s why I stepped in to provide a helping hand,” Rose retorted.

     “Then why provide a pair of greenhorns?” Henry asked.

     “Think of it as a live experiment,” Rose offered. “A variable to keep you from falling into complacency. For all I know, Commander Bjorn and Lieutenant Byrd are planning to die against Horst. The Wolfe siblings will incentivize survival for everyone. If you have any updates, just use our current frequency. I look forward to your mission’s success, soldiers.”

     As Rose was trading barbs with Ann, Henry began pulling up a database on his wrist gauntlet. Before they finished, he scowled.

     “Found out our mysterious contractor?” Kaia murmured after Rose signed off.

     “Divinity help us, it’s another war criminal,” Henry exclaimed. “Ten to one we were contacted by Sylvia Rosette.”

     Fred and Kaia shared his expression. “May the Divinity help us, indeed.” he agreed.