Chapter 4 - Финал
NTR Commissar
Bareback Collapsal
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No, no… What was I going to do now?
As I drove, I pulled the hoodie off of me and tossed it out the window. The mask quickly followed.
Where was I going to go now?
Was I to just keep driving and hope to find another police holdout? But the one I had accidentally breached looked like they were barely holding on, anyhow.
Even if I hadn't just rammed a hole in their barricade, I would never have gotten past the fighting to get the medical attention I needed.
Was the whole city just overrun by these crazy Infected now?
I gasped.
Shit! I shouldn't have thrown away the hoodie and the mask!
If this city had fallen to these masked bandits, then the MPs had bigger things to worry about. How could they spare the men to chase me down?
It would have been better to keep wearing the disguise.
I considered turning back to retrieve them, but I didn't relish getting back into the cold, not while I was getting increasingly dizzy. I was sweating profusely too, which would be just awful in the wind. Instead, I curved my beaten-up truck into yet another small street in the hopes that nobody would see me. There had been another barricade in the way, as well as a complement of masked guards, but I didn't let that stop me.
I spun up another defensive shell, which shattered in a rain of light. My truck was probably in worse shape than ever, but the roadblock shattered too, along with everyone in the way. I was a pacifist at heart, and I abhorred the wastefulness of killing, but these scumbags attacked me first.
The sky was getting darker and darker, and it was starting to thunder ominously. My limbs were starting to shake. It was getting so cold. How much was the blood loss, and how much was the weather? It was winter, so it was hard to be sure, but I was potentially badly short on time, and I had no reliable options. A scream threatened to escape me. I knew, I knew I should have stayed away from these fucking Russies!
What was I supposed to do now? I was struggling just to keep my eyes open. That part was definitely blood loss. Even if I was willing to risk healing myself with magic, I didn't know what went into medical formulae at all, let alone how medical professions cast their Arts on Terra.
I took a shaky breath. What was my plan again? Where was I driving to, anyway?
I pressed my foot down hard on the gas, even though I didn't know where to go.
But if I did know where to go, I would want to go there fast, I surmised, so I pressed my foot down hard on the gas.
I drove and drove, weaving through the city, hitting some things, sometimes people. My truck was in the same shape as me by now, but I didn't care.
Smashing through my fifth barricade, I broke through into some sad-looking park. I had to do some swerving to avoid the trees, but it was easier than flying.
If I was a Chernobog hospital, where would I be?
When I broke through a copse and saw more of those Infected exchanging Arts with someone, my heart skipped a beat.
Was it the police? Even a battlefield Medic would help.
Not bothering to slow down, I hardened the front of my shell into an active barrier. Police were supposed to prioritise civilians, but they didn't always. Right, and I wasn't in Lungmen either. This was Chernobog. As a foreigner, it wouldn't hurt to grease the wheels a little by lending a helping hand.
The hooded idiots were so busy hollering and chasing the MPs out onto the road that they didn't even notice me until I was upon them.
I blinked groggily. The sixth or seventh rioter I hit was the one to finally bring down my defensive shell. He bounced off it and slammed into a friend with a crack. The eighth, ninth and whatever had rebounded off my bumper onto the asphalt and were run over by the wheels as I spun my shell back up. I immediately regretted it as the bumpiness hurt my stomach, but there was no option but to keep going. Flames passed harmlessly over the surface of my shell as I continued to drive through.
I was already in a foul mood from the pain. When I spotted some white-haired brat looking like he was having much too much fun at my expense, I curved the truck around magic attacks and aimed for him. I had only just knocked the little hoodlum into a street light when I sensed a projectile shatter my shell.
A fleeting spark of wakefulness shot through me.
Enemy sniper?!
It had come from my eleven, I was sure, so I snaked the truck down the street, and more collapsed than climbed into the passenger seat.
…What the—? Who were those people?
That wasn't the police. But, some of them were wearing Star of Life armbands, so good enough! I was going to convince them to help me and then I'd be saved.
Mind made up, I drove in a haphazard zig-zag towards them.
"Move! It's coming this way!" shouted a man.
"I'm a friendly!" I tried to yell, but I was having trouble getting it out.
Instead, I let the truck sandwich another rioter between its bumper and a building, and after fiddling with the handle I fell out of the door.
"Civilian! She's bleeding," said a blonde knightess.
"I can pay you," I wheezed, casting a new shell around myself.
" I'll do it," said a Vulpo wearing a Medic armband.
Two Guards dragged me around the corner while their Snipers provided covering fire, and the nice Vulpo followed. My defensive shell shattered again, regardless.
"The Commies are sniping at us," I explained. "Where's the artillery?"
"Is she still casting?"
"She's showing signs of haemorrhagic shock."
"Into this building, now!" exclaimed Bearded Man. He looked like Adam Jensen, from that niche PS3 game I played.
"Dim Needle, put her down here."
I missed some of the conversation, but tuned back in when the foxgirl tried to strip me. I never understood the appeal, personally, but I let her do as she wanted.
"This is an Originium Shard!" said the Medic.
"I need the Originium Shard to stop my bleeding," I explained.
They removed it despite my protests and put it in a bag. The Medic used her Arts to stop my bleeding, which explained why they took my shard. I didn't feel much better, but I wasn't going to die now, she explained.
There was some discussion of what to do with me, so I told them, very clearly, that I could pay them. I said it again, just in case. The woman who stabbed me earlier hadn't understood.
"Take me with you. I can pay you," I said again.
I wasn't exactly rich, but I had money. I had money because I was saving up money for something.
I blinked, and then I realised I was being piggybacked. I didn't know why I kept missing conversations.
"We'll protect you. Can you cast your Arts again?" asked a young Cautus.
"What Arts?" I asked.
"The Shield Arts," she explained gently.
I thought about it. What Shield Arts?
"She's still starved of oxygen. Give her some time," the Vulpo clinician said.
My mind raced at the speed of light. Of course. I had been casting an Arts inspired by my defensive shell, earlier.
"If you can get me out of here, I can do so," I said resolutely. "I've cast it just now."
"How far can it cover?" asked Jensen. Right, it wasn't visible right now. "Is it designed for single targets?"
"Of course," I said. "But I can expand my defensive shell to cover more. It just weakens it."
"She can cover a small group then," a man in a face shield said. "Medic hurt her foot, and I'm not in the best shape right now, so we'll bunch up with her."
"Dim Needle, can you keep carrying her?" asked the young Cautus.
My ride nodded. I forgot I was being piggybacked.
Face Shield turned to me.
"Please keep your shield up as much as you can, Miss…?"
I stared. —Oh.
"Ah. My apologies for the late introduction. I'm Tanja Müller, from the Lungmen branch of Coopers & Harding."
I tried reaching for my business cards, but I couldn't do so without falling off.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm the Doctor, and we're Rhodes Island, apparently a pharmaceutical company. This is Amiya, our CEO." The Cautus girl smiled at me. I loved CEOs. "And these are… Err... The rest of the introductions will have to wait until later."
Smart. Time was of the essence right now.
He turned to the knightess, who nodded respectfully.
"I'm Nearl, Doctor. I'll stick with you in case Miss Müller's shield breaks."
Wait… Pharmaceutical company? So who were all these fighters then, their security contractors?
This was some protection that Miss Amiya hired.
I didn't know how many were still fighting outside, but there were over a dozen people just in this room. Many of them moved like well-seasoned veterans.
I'd heard that competition between Columbian companies could be cut-throat, but hiring a whole mercenary platoon was something else.
I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mess I had gotten involved in.
At least they seemed happy to bring me along for my shield. My earlier choice of protector was the Ursus Military Police, who would at least pay lip service to protecting civilian foreigners, but I could do transactional relationships too. If I was being honest, it was my preference. The mutual benefits of clear-cut give and take were simply more reassuring.
The mercenaries hastily signalled each other, before a number of them dashed out the door, opposite to the one we entered from.
I'd noticed for a while now, but these defensive shells were taking a lot less out of me than I might have expected, considering my stab wound. A lot of the energy was being provided by the Arts Unit itself, so I was only expending what reserves were required to direct it. Was it going to run out of energy soon? I realised I couldn't read the interface. I hoped it would work until we reached safety.
Hm. And I had been noticing the haze over my thoughts for a while now—so it was probably only moderate blood loss—but I was managing to cast my shells fine. As long as I kept this defensive shell up, they wouldn't dump me on the streets somewhere. And even if they did, my bleeding had been closed up, so I wasn't going to keel over any minute.
"All right, let's go," the Doctor said, and with that my group filed quickly out the same exit as the earlier scouts.
Outside, it was just another drab Chernobog street, but cars were on fire here and there, as well as the odd tree. Maybe I was feeling giddy, but the fires felt a little festive. Very Christmas-like. It was fantastic.
Ow. The jostling from my ride's footfalls was hurting my gut, so I clung more tightly to reduce the shaking. It helped with the freezing cold of the wind too.
Ahead of us, the Guards and Vanguards were already making short work of the opposition. A few Infected Casters managed to slip attacks our way, but they passed harmlessly over my shell like water over a boulder.
To be honest, after the mayhem from earlier, my greater challenge was staying conscious. The sniper fire hadn't returned, so without the urgency it was harder to remain awake.
After a few turns, we made it past a large warehouse, and then around more dull apartment buildings. There was only light resistance in the form of those masked Infected. It had only taken the first few exchanges for me to learn that this mercenary group was leagues ahead of the Infected rabble. Considering how impoverished the Infected had to be, it stood to reason that the westbound group I'd spotted from my hotel room were the outliers instead.
"The pressure seems to have eased," said Nearl. "Have they retreated?"
Wait, Nearl like the family of Kazimierzan war heroes? From my ride's back, I shot our rearguard a glance. So this was one of Kazimierz's famed pegasi.
"Their commander was the thousandth victim of Ursine driving this month," said the severe Perro with the whip. Dobermann. "He's probably headed for the hospital, if Reunion haven't burned them all down."
"The police are guarding them as part of the evacuation process. I was helping them do so earlier," Nearl said. "I doubt the Imperial Guards will let Reunion through."
Nearl's demeanour reminded me of von Edelreich, somewhat. Lt. Colonel Deborah von Edelreich had been the officer leading Romel's Hauptquartier-Kompanie. In her twenties, she was already one of the Reich's five aces of aces, and for her kill count she was bestowed the alias 'Sword of Light'.
This Nearl was much less harried, probably because this Doctor didn't have Romel's penchant for charging the enemy frontlines, but through the fighting she reminded me of von Edelreich's gallant, unthinking desire to protect others. Or children of the Reich, at least. Truly selfless people could be blinding in their brilliance, sometimes. While I had no desire to follow in their foolhardy steps, I was more than happy to give them due respect, especially if I was their beneficiary.
Although given the Light Arts she had displayed so far, perhaps von Edelreich's alias better belonged with Nearl.
"Reunion have their own Medics," said Medic. What naming sense. "I hope we don't meet that boy again."
The conversation stalled for a moment when there was more contact with the enemy further ahead, but the commander named Ace had it in hand. We never even got to see the fighting.
I let my heavy eyelids drop, just for a moment, and rested my face against my ride's hair.
Lavender, coffee, and smoke. Hmm.
I faded into the scent.
***
"...meaning that there's no escaping the Catastrophe now," someone said. "Not for Chernobog itself, at least."
Catastrophe?
Through pure discipline, I forced my eyes open and then squinted.
I was outside… No wonder it was so cold. Ah, and now I was registering the smell of burning rubber. A lot of people in techwear and paramilitary equipment were running somewhere, and I was being carried by one of them. Her hands were wrapped tightly around my buttocks, actually, because I probably would have fallen off otherwise.
Right, the pharmaceutical company. And they hadn't thrown me to the roadside when I stopped casting my Arts. I could still hear distant screaming. Thank goodness for the soft-hearted.
"There's another group of Reunion up ahead, but it isn't far until the rendezvous point," someone said.
"We're making good time," said Nearl from behind me.
From up ahead, Dobermann jogged back towards us.
"One of the southern exits is just ahead," she said. "Instead of the usual, we'll be taking turns descending by VTOL, which will ferry us to our way out of here."
"Has there been any word from the recon team?" asked Miss Amiya.
Dobermann's brows creased, and she shook her head. A delayed rendezvous was hardly surprising, considering how many Reunion members we fought to get this far. Well, they fought, I suppose.
Miss Amiya's expression lightened a little when she saw me watching.
"You're awake. Are you feeling better, Miss Müller?"
I smiled politely and nodded my head.
"You can rest assured that I'll contribute a fair share to whatever you're paying these mercenaries."
For some reason her eyes widened a fraction in blank bemusement, before some sort of realisation passed across her face.
"We're not mercs," Dim Needle said from beneath me. To be honest I'd forgotten about her again. Glancing down I saw a black rapier at her waist. A more creative name than Medic, at least.
"Everybody here is an Operator employed with Rhodes Island," Miss Amiya said. A hint of a smile had formed.
My eyes passed over Dobermann, Nearl, and then Ace in the distance.
"They're very highly trained," I praised. "The Doctor said you were a pharmaceutical company, so I didn't realise you diversified into private military work as well."
"Ah, we really are mostly just a pharmaceutical company," Medic chimed in, "but our specialisation is the treatment of Oripathy. The nature of our work… means that sometimes we go where public safety is poor, or even to dangerous conflict zones."
"You specialise in Oripathy?"
"We support the Infected wherever they might be, however we can," said Miss Amiya. "Some of the best treatments for Oripathy available were pioneered by Rhodes Island, and we hope to one day find a cure. The Doctor used to research just that."
The Doctor puffed up a little.
"A messy, but worthy line of work," I said with some admiration. Many local governments were willing to pay a pretty penny to offload the Oripathy question onto somebody else. Offering treatment was more dangerous than simply developing the drugs, but I could respect those who dealt in high-risk ventures. So long as they could chew what they bit off. So far, I had seen no reason to doubt Rhodes Island's ability to do so.
It was inevitable that I saw Miss Amiya in a new light. Clearly there was more to her than just the soft-spoken girl. It wouldn't be my first time meeting a frighteningly competent teen in this world, so I made a note not to underestimate her.
"Miss Müller?"
I turned.
Medic half-raised a hand and looked at me hesitantly. "How much do you remember about how you got here?"
For a moment I didn't comprehend, but then I remembered. My stomach sank.
How could I have forgotten?
"We can diagnose you when we're back at our headquarters," Dobermann said not unkindly. "We're not heading to Lungmen, but we can let you off at our next stop after testing, and you can find transport back from there."
"If the results aren't favourable we can offer a prognosis and treatment plan too," Medic added.
"That sounds… excellent. I can definitely pay," I managed to get out. "Do you… Do you know what my chances are?"
Medic's ears twitched. She shook her head. "We can't answer that reliably until we've tested you."
I suspected that they could, but she was equivocating for my sake. I grit my teeth and refused to make a scene. I still had the pride not to throw a tantrum in front of a group of fellow professionals.
"Even if you can't pay upfront, we can work something out," Miss Amiya added.
I closed my eyes. Absolutely not a simple teenager if she was already setting up the field to later take advantage of my fragile mental state. A skilled diplomat knew when to push and when to pull, and Miss Amiya had just been subtle enough to avoid alerting a less experienced negotiator.
I was grateful to them for saving my life. That did not mean I wouldn't take care to stop my negotiating position from weakening further. On the contrary.
The walk through the last of the outer district residential area was made in silence. The merce—the security team seemed like a straightforward lot, so they were probably being considerate of me. As for the executives, Miss Amiya and the enigmatic Doctor, their intentions I was less sure of.
I wasn't a huge fan of this sort of psychological sparring. There had been plenty enough in C&H, especially the higher up the rungs I climbed. Londinium was occupied by Kazdel during my early days at the company, enervating our head office. Our infighting had only grown worse since.
The jockeying for influence was why I was in Chernobog, in fact. Getting a foothold into the Ursine markets would have checked the growing ascendancy of the Columbian branch.
Soon we were reaching the perimeter of the agglomerate Chernobog city. Some of the Reunion groups we met along the way even let us through after it was clear we weren't Ursine military. I suppose any army could suffer uneven discipline, let alone a terrorist insurgency such as this.
"How is your stomach feeling?" my piggybacker quietly asked me. It was perhaps the first thing I heard the taciturn woman say since we left the building they treated me in.
"Better. Thank you for carrying me."
I wondered if she was going to say anything else, but we allowed ourselves to lull back into silence.
As we left the central regions of the docked subcity, the mixed residential-commercial zone gave way to shipping warehouses, industrial facilities, and other businesses built around the southern port.
It had been a while since we had last encountered further opposition. Out here it was just empty streets, although here and there I noticed the signs of a work day half abandoned. Crates or tools left lying here or there, sometimes a forklift left out in the open with its cargo still loaded.
Dobermann had run off ahead to rejoin the team she was responsible for, while Nearl stayed to protect our party. I glanced up at the sky. What was it they said about a Catastrophe again?
I didn't need to ask, because Miss Amiya commented on the same thing.
"The Catastrophe is coming soon. I hope most of the civilians were able to safely evacuate."
"They were well underway when I left to rejoin you," Nearl said. "Many of them should have already left Chernobog."
My eyes returned to the skies. So this storm was a Catastrophe. With the way predictive technologies and methodologies had advanced over the years, I'd never seen one before. I imagined most people hadn't.
That made the situation all the more odd. This close to the edge of the city, it was clear as day that Chernobog's megatreads were stationary. Whatever conspiracies were behind this, the result was that this city was about to be hit with disaster.
If it hadn't been for Rhodes Island, I would have been left for dead, if my blood loss didn't claim me first. We all knew it. Miss Amiya simply brought attention to the bargaining chip. There was no explicit agreement between us, but ignoring this life debt would lose me a lot of face, and in a place like Lungmen, that was more than enough ammunition for my rivals.
"I would have been in a lot of trouble if I hadn't met you," I said, to make it clear that I would play ball. "I intend to repay this debt."
The Doctor seemed to regard me curiously, while Miss Amiya shook her head.
"Helping people is what we should do," she said politely.
My smile was sardonic.
"You have my admiration, Miss Amiya."
The embarrassment on her face was convincing and well acted. This girl would make a terrifying opponent, I thought, but it was better to work with competent partners than imbeciles.
Finally, at the end of the street was the edge of Chernobog. Built into the side of the district walls themselves were the air docks, as well as the massive freight elevators that every modern nomadic city boasted. The dock that I entered the city from had been bustling and noisy, audible even from the airport that I had alighted into. This one was abandoned.
Miss Amiya trailed behind us as we approached. When I turned back she was gazing back into the city. I could understand the sentiment. If the missing Recon Team possessed the skills I saw demonstrated by the rest of this company, I, too, would be unwilling to lose them. When the market for labour was in excess demand, there was nothing worse than bleeding expertise due to turnover. Nearl and Medic gave her worried looks.
"Scout is a true veteran of the Kazdel war," Nearl said. "His team will not have fallen without worthy cause."
Miss Amiya nodded. "I believe in them."
When we entered the interior of the southern wall through an industrial entrance, it was silent save for the hum of machinery. It looked like an empty warehouse or factory complex, with more abandoned industrial vehicles. A few cranes stood idle in the distance, while a small fleet of half-loaded freight trucks lay unattended.
Across the loading bay from us, where the plexiglass windows stood, were figures in Rhodes Island colours. One of them waved at us.
"That's Dobermann's team," Medic said with better cheer.
When they were sure we had seen them, they began walking left into the next room, leading the way. As we passed by the windows, Medic stopped to watch in awe. Far down below on the untouched tundra, dozens of landships of different sizes were moving away from us, some so small they could barely be seen from here, and others as large as small suburbs.
"Are these the civilians that managed to escape?" the Doctor asked.
I'd never seen so many landships in one place. Day to day, it was easy to forget the majesty of human accomplishment that landships and nomadic settlements represented. From within, you could scarcely tell them apart from ordinary cities.
"There aren't enough of them," Miss Amiya whispered.
Nearl hummed thoughtfully. "More of the civilians might have left from the west. At least two of the hospitals were in the western subcities."
"I hope so."
We continued along the side of the room until we approached the door our guides disappeared into. Dobermann waited within with a small group of uniformed Rhodes Island personnel.
From Dim Needle's back, I glanced around the room. Filled with surveillance feeds, it appeared to be one of the control centres for the port facilities.
"You're here, Amiya," Dobermann said. "Team Ace is securing the perimeter while my team are keeping their eyes on the security footage. The VTOLs are down the stairs just through here."
Dobermann gestured at a doorway, beyond which I spied a steel staircase.
"We'll be taking turns being ferried, so you and the Doctor will be extracted first."
"The wounded should go first," Miss Amiya said. I couldn't agree more. Get me out of here!
"Our wounded operators are already aboard. The first flights are just waiting on you," said Dobermann.
After a moment of hesitation, Miss Amiya nodded.
"I'll take command of your team and ensure their safe extraction, Amiya," said Nearl.
With that, it was time to depart.
Miss Amiya took the lead, walking briskly down the stairs, while the Doctor followed, looking curiously about the hangar. Medic came along with us to help with the wounded aboard the VTOLs.
"Come on, it's this way."
My ride out of the city was a lot rougher than the one I came in on, but I was appreciative of the helicopter's ruggedness. We entered one of the four vehicles through the rear door. A number of injured personnel were already strapped into stretchers along the sides of the cargo bay.
Dim Needle gently placed me onto a stretcher. I was strapped down next to a young woman who looked like she had been burned, but I turned my focus back to Dim Needle. To the disappointment of my curious side, the face beneath the goggles and scarf wasn't much clearer from the front.
"This has been some eighteenth birthday," I muttered. Abandonment day. Same thing.
Miss Amiya's ears twitched.
"So it's your birthday too…" she said.
I lazily glanced her way.
"Maybe our next one will be better, Miss Amiya."
She smiled, but it wasn't a happy thing.
While my abdomen was checked over by Medic, the rear door began to close. If my ears weren't deceiving me, the other helicopters were preparing for liftoff as well.
Soon after I heard the engines start up, we lifted off. The flight lasted less than two minutes before we landed. When it came time to disembark, I realised we were on an internal helipad of a much larger vehicle. A ground vehicle, because a quick glance upwards was enough to determine that we were deep within Chernobog's looming shadow.
When we were transferred to a medical bay within the larger vehicle, I heard the VTOLs take off again, presumably to ferry the rest of the personnel over. The minutes passed by as I sat there amongst those both worse and less injured than me, alone with my thoughts. Unlike the helicopters that carried me here, the medical bay had a view outside.
It wasn't long before we took off, the large treads of the small landship speeding us across the icy tundra, away from Chernobog.
We had only been moving for five minutes when the sky began to fall on Chernobog. Stones as large as city blocks began to devastate the motionless nomadic city.
Around me, gasps of shock and horror filled the medical bay.
Well, there goes the mining proposal, I thought.
I never wanted to come to this shitty city again.
As I drove, I pulled the hoodie off of me and tossed it out the window. The mask quickly followed.
Where was I going to go now?
Was I to just keep driving and hope to find another police holdout? But the one I had accidentally breached looked like they were barely holding on, anyhow.
Even if I hadn't just rammed a hole in their barricade, I would never have gotten past the fighting to get the medical attention I needed.
Was the whole city just overrun by these crazy Infected now?
I gasped.
Shit! I shouldn't have thrown away the hoodie and the mask!
If this city had fallen to these masked bandits, then the MPs had bigger things to worry about. How could they spare the men to chase me down?
It would have been better to keep wearing the disguise.
I considered turning back to retrieve them, but I didn't relish getting back into the cold, not while I was getting increasingly dizzy. I was sweating profusely too, which would be just awful in the wind. Instead, I curved my beaten-up truck into yet another small street in the hopes that nobody would see me. There had been another barricade in the way, as well as a complement of masked guards, but I didn't let that stop me.
I spun up another defensive shell, which shattered in a rain of light. My truck was probably in worse shape than ever, but the roadblock shattered too, along with everyone in the way. I was a pacifist at heart, and I abhorred the wastefulness of killing, but these scumbags attacked me first.
The sky was getting darker and darker, and it was starting to thunder ominously. My limbs were starting to shake. It was getting so cold. How much was the blood loss, and how much was the weather? It was winter, so it was hard to be sure, but I was potentially badly short on time, and I had no reliable options. A scream threatened to escape me. I knew, I knew I should have stayed away from these fucking Russies!
What was I supposed to do now? I was struggling just to keep my eyes open. That part was definitely blood loss. Even if I was willing to risk healing myself with magic, I didn't know what went into medical formulae at all, let alone how medical professions cast their Arts on Terra.
I took a shaky breath. What was my plan again? Where was I driving to, anyway?
I pressed my foot down hard on the gas, even though I didn't know where to go.
But if I did know where to go, I would want to go there fast, I surmised, so I pressed my foot down hard on the gas.
I drove and drove, weaving through the city, hitting some things, sometimes people. My truck was in the same shape as me by now, but I didn't care.
Smashing through my fifth barricade, I broke through into some sad-looking park. I had to do some swerving to avoid the trees, but it was easier than flying.
If I was a Chernobog hospital, where would I be?
When I broke through a copse and saw more of those Infected exchanging Arts with someone, my heart skipped a beat.
Was it the police? Even a battlefield Medic would help.
Not bothering to slow down, I hardened the front of my shell into an active barrier. Police were supposed to prioritise civilians, but they didn't always. Right, and I wasn't in Lungmen either. This was Chernobog. As a foreigner, it wouldn't hurt to grease the wheels a little by lending a helping hand.
The hooded idiots were so busy hollering and chasing the MPs out onto the road that they didn't even notice me until I was upon them.
I blinked groggily. The sixth or seventh rioter I hit was the one to finally bring down my defensive shell. He bounced off it and slammed into a friend with a crack. The eighth, ninth and whatever had rebounded off my bumper onto the asphalt and were run over by the wheels as I spun my shell back up. I immediately regretted it as the bumpiness hurt my stomach, but there was no option but to keep going. Flames passed harmlessly over the surface of my shell as I continued to drive through.
I was already in a foul mood from the pain. When I spotted some white-haired brat looking like he was having much too much fun at my expense, I curved the truck around magic attacks and aimed for him. I had only just knocked the little hoodlum into a street light when I sensed a projectile shatter my shell.
A fleeting spark of wakefulness shot through me.
Enemy sniper?!
It had come from my eleven, I was sure, so I snaked the truck down the street, and more collapsed than climbed into the passenger seat.
…What the—? Who were those people?
That wasn't the police. But, some of them were wearing Star of Life armbands, so good enough! I was going to convince them to help me and then I'd be saved.
Mind made up, I drove in a haphazard zig-zag towards them.
"Move! It's coming this way!" shouted a man.
"I'm a friendly!" I tried to yell, but I was having trouble getting it out.
Instead, I let the truck sandwich another rioter between its bumper and a building, and after fiddling with the handle I fell out of the door.
"Civilian! She's bleeding," said a blonde knightess.
"I can pay you," I wheezed, casting a new shell around myself.
" I'll do it," said a Vulpo wearing a Medic armband.
Two Guards dragged me around the corner while their Snipers provided covering fire, and the nice Vulpo followed. My defensive shell shattered again, regardless.
"The Commies are sniping at us," I explained. "Where's the artillery?"
"Is she still casting?"
"She's showing signs of haemorrhagic shock."
"Into this building, now!" exclaimed Bearded Man. He looked like Adam Jensen, from that niche PS3 game I played.
"Dim Needle, put her down here."
I missed some of the conversation, but tuned back in when the foxgirl tried to strip me. I never understood the appeal, personally, but I let her do as she wanted.
"This is an Originium Shard!" said the Medic.
"I need the Originium Shard to stop my bleeding," I explained.
They removed it despite my protests and put it in a bag. The Medic used her Arts to stop my bleeding, which explained why they took my shard. I didn't feel much better, but I wasn't going to die now, she explained.
There was some discussion of what to do with me, so I told them, very clearly, that I could pay them. I said it again, just in case. The woman who stabbed me earlier hadn't understood.
"Take me with you. I can pay you," I said again.
I wasn't exactly rich, but I had money. I had money because I was saving up money for something.
I blinked, and then I realised I was being piggybacked. I didn't know why I kept missing conversations.
"We'll protect you. Can you cast your Arts again?" asked a young Cautus.
"What Arts?" I asked.
"The Shield Arts," she explained gently.
I thought about it. What Shield Arts?
"She's still starved of oxygen. Give her some time," the Vulpo clinician said.
My mind raced at the speed of light. Of course. I had been casting an Arts inspired by my defensive shell, earlier.
"If you can get me out of here, I can do so," I said resolutely. "I've cast it just now."
"How far can it cover?" asked Jensen. Right, it wasn't visible right now. "Is it designed for single targets?"
"Of course," I said. "But I can expand my defensive shell to cover more. It just weakens it."
"She can cover a small group then," a man in a face shield said. "Medic hurt her foot, and I'm not in the best shape right now, so we'll bunch up with her."
"Dim Needle, can you keep carrying her?" asked the young Cautus.
My ride nodded. I forgot I was being piggybacked.
Face Shield turned to me.
"Please keep your shield up as much as you can, Miss…?"
I stared. —Oh.
"Ah. My apologies for the late introduction. I'm Tanja Müller, from the Lungmen branch of Coopers & Harding."
I tried reaching for my business cards, but I couldn't do so without falling off.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm the Doctor, and we're Rhodes Island, apparently a pharmaceutical company. This is Amiya, our CEO." The Cautus girl smiled at me. I loved CEOs. "And these are… Err... The rest of the introductions will have to wait until later."
Smart. Time was of the essence right now.
He turned to the knightess, who nodded respectfully.
"I'm Nearl, Doctor. I'll stick with you in case Miss Müller's shield breaks."
Wait… Pharmaceutical company? So who were all these fighters then, their security contractors?
This was some protection that Miss Amiya hired.
I didn't know how many were still fighting outside, but there were over a dozen people just in this room. Many of them moved like well-seasoned veterans.
I'd heard that competition between Columbian companies could be cut-throat, but hiring a whole mercenary platoon was something else.
I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mess I had gotten involved in.
At least they seemed happy to bring me along for my shield. My earlier choice of protector was the Ursus Military Police, who would at least pay lip service to protecting civilian foreigners, but I could do transactional relationships too. If I was being honest, it was my preference. The mutual benefits of clear-cut give and take were simply more reassuring.
The mercenaries hastily signalled each other, before a number of them dashed out the door, opposite to the one we entered from.
I'd noticed for a while now, but these defensive shells were taking a lot less out of me than I might have expected, considering my stab wound. A lot of the energy was being provided by the Arts Unit itself, so I was only expending what reserves were required to direct it. Was it going to run out of energy soon? I realised I couldn't read the interface. I hoped it would work until we reached safety.
Hm. And I had been noticing the haze over my thoughts for a while now—so it was probably only moderate blood loss—but I was managing to cast my shells fine. As long as I kept this defensive shell up, they wouldn't dump me on the streets somewhere. And even if they did, my bleeding had been closed up, so I wasn't going to keel over any minute.
"All right, let's go," the Doctor said, and with that my group filed quickly out the same exit as the earlier scouts.
Outside, it was just another drab Chernobog street, but cars were on fire here and there, as well as the odd tree. Maybe I was feeling giddy, but the fires felt a little festive. Very Christmas-like. It was fantastic.
Ow. The jostling from my ride's footfalls was hurting my gut, so I clung more tightly to reduce the shaking. It helped with the freezing cold of the wind too.
Ahead of us, the Guards and Vanguards were already making short work of the opposition. A few Infected Casters managed to slip attacks our way, but they passed harmlessly over my shell like water over a boulder.
To be honest, after the mayhem from earlier, my greater challenge was staying conscious. The sniper fire hadn't returned, so without the urgency it was harder to remain awake.
After a few turns, we made it past a large warehouse, and then around more dull apartment buildings. There was only light resistance in the form of those masked Infected. It had only taken the first few exchanges for me to learn that this mercenary group was leagues ahead of the Infected rabble. Considering how impoverished the Infected had to be, it stood to reason that the westbound group I'd spotted from my hotel room were the outliers instead.
"The pressure seems to have eased," said Nearl. "Have they retreated?"
Wait, Nearl like the family of Kazimierzan war heroes? From my ride's back, I shot our rearguard a glance. So this was one of Kazimierz's famed pegasi.
"Their commander was the thousandth victim of Ursine driving this month," said the severe Perro with the whip. Dobermann. "He's probably headed for the hospital, if Reunion haven't burned them all down."
"The police are guarding them as part of the evacuation process. I was helping them do so earlier," Nearl said. "I doubt the Imperial Guards will let Reunion through."
Nearl's demeanour reminded me of von Edelreich, somewhat. Lt. Colonel Deborah von Edelreich had been the officer leading Romel's Hauptquartier-Kompanie. In her twenties, she was already one of the Reich's five aces of aces, and for her kill count she was bestowed the alias 'Sword of Light'.
This Nearl was much less harried, probably because this Doctor didn't have Romel's penchant for charging the enemy frontlines, but through the fighting she reminded me of von Edelreich's gallant, unthinking desire to protect others. Or children of the Reich, at least. Truly selfless people could be blinding in their brilliance, sometimes. While I had no desire to follow in their foolhardy steps, I was more than happy to give them due respect, especially if I was their beneficiary.
Although given the Light Arts she had displayed so far, perhaps von Edelreich's alias better belonged with Nearl.
"Reunion have their own Medics," said Medic. What naming sense. "I hope we don't meet that boy again."
The conversation stalled for a moment when there was more contact with the enemy further ahead, but the commander named Ace had it in hand. We never even got to see the fighting.
I let my heavy eyelids drop, just for a moment, and rested my face against my ride's hair.
Lavender, coffee, and smoke. Hmm.
I faded into the scent.
***
"...meaning that there's no escaping the Catastrophe now," someone said. "Not for Chernobog itself, at least."
Catastrophe?
Through pure discipline, I forced my eyes open and then squinted.
I was outside… No wonder it was so cold. Ah, and now I was registering the smell of burning rubber. A lot of people in techwear and paramilitary equipment were running somewhere, and I was being carried by one of them. Her hands were wrapped tightly around my buttocks, actually, because I probably would have fallen off otherwise.
Right, the pharmaceutical company. And they hadn't thrown me to the roadside when I stopped casting my Arts. I could still hear distant screaming. Thank goodness for the soft-hearted.
"There's another group of Reunion up ahead, but it isn't far until the rendezvous point," someone said.
"We're making good time," said Nearl from behind me.
From up ahead, Dobermann jogged back towards us.
"One of the southern exits is just ahead," she said. "Instead of the usual, we'll be taking turns descending by VTOL, which will ferry us to our way out of here."
"Has there been any word from the recon team?" asked Miss Amiya.
Dobermann's brows creased, and she shook her head. A delayed rendezvous was hardly surprising, considering how many Reunion members we fought to get this far. Well, they fought, I suppose.
Miss Amiya's expression lightened a little when she saw me watching.
"You're awake. Are you feeling better, Miss Müller?"
I smiled politely and nodded my head.
"You can rest assured that I'll contribute a fair share to whatever you're paying these mercenaries."
For some reason her eyes widened a fraction in blank bemusement, before some sort of realisation passed across her face.
"We're not mercs," Dim Needle said from beneath me. To be honest I'd forgotten about her again. Glancing down I saw a black rapier at her waist. A more creative name than Medic, at least.
"Everybody here is an Operator employed with Rhodes Island," Miss Amiya said. A hint of a smile had formed.
My eyes passed over Dobermann, Nearl, and then Ace in the distance.
"They're very highly trained," I praised. "The Doctor said you were a pharmaceutical company, so I didn't realise you diversified into private military work as well."
"Ah, we really are mostly just a pharmaceutical company," Medic chimed in, "but our specialisation is the treatment of Oripathy. The nature of our work… means that sometimes we go where public safety is poor, or even to dangerous conflict zones."
"You specialise in Oripathy?"
"We support the Infected wherever they might be, however we can," said Miss Amiya. "Some of the best treatments for Oripathy available were pioneered by Rhodes Island, and we hope to one day find a cure. The Doctor used to research just that."
The Doctor puffed up a little.
"A messy, but worthy line of work," I said with some admiration. Many local governments were willing to pay a pretty penny to offload the Oripathy question onto somebody else. Offering treatment was more dangerous than simply developing the drugs, but I could respect those who dealt in high-risk ventures. So long as they could chew what they bit off. So far, I had seen no reason to doubt Rhodes Island's ability to do so.
It was inevitable that I saw Miss Amiya in a new light. Clearly there was more to her than just the soft-spoken girl. It wouldn't be my first time meeting a frighteningly competent teen in this world, so I made a note not to underestimate her.
"Miss Müller?"
I turned.
Medic half-raised a hand and looked at me hesitantly. "How much do you remember about how you got here?"
For a moment I didn't comprehend, but then I remembered. My stomach sank.
How could I have forgotten?
"We can diagnose you when we're back at our headquarters," Dobermann said not unkindly. "We're not heading to Lungmen, but we can let you off at our next stop after testing, and you can find transport back from there."
"If the results aren't favourable we can offer a prognosis and treatment plan too," Medic added.
"That sounds… excellent. I can definitely pay," I managed to get out. "Do you… Do you know what my chances are?"
Medic's ears twitched. She shook her head. "We can't answer that reliably until we've tested you."
I suspected that they could, but she was equivocating for my sake. I grit my teeth and refused to make a scene. I still had the pride not to throw a tantrum in front of a group of fellow professionals.
"Even if you can't pay upfront, we can work something out," Miss Amiya added.
I closed my eyes. Absolutely not a simple teenager if she was already setting up the field to later take advantage of my fragile mental state. A skilled diplomat knew when to push and when to pull, and Miss Amiya had just been subtle enough to avoid alerting a less experienced negotiator.
I was grateful to them for saving my life. That did not mean I wouldn't take care to stop my negotiating position from weakening further. On the contrary.
The walk through the last of the outer district residential area was made in silence. The merce—the security team seemed like a straightforward lot, so they were probably being considerate of me. As for the executives, Miss Amiya and the enigmatic Doctor, their intentions I was less sure of.
I wasn't a huge fan of this sort of psychological sparring. There had been plenty enough in C&H, especially the higher up the rungs I climbed. Londinium was occupied by Kazdel during my early days at the company, enervating our head office. Our infighting had only grown worse since.
The jockeying for influence was why I was in Chernobog, in fact. Getting a foothold into the Ursine markets would have checked the growing ascendancy of the Columbian branch.
Soon we were reaching the perimeter of the agglomerate Chernobog city. Some of the Reunion groups we met along the way even let us through after it was clear we weren't Ursine military. I suppose any army could suffer uneven discipline, let alone a terrorist insurgency such as this.
"How is your stomach feeling?" my piggybacker quietly asked me. It was perhaps the first thing I heard the taciturn woman say since we left the building they treated me in.
"Better. Thank you for carrying me."
I wondered if she was going to say anything else, but we allowed ourselves to lull back into silence.
As we left the central regions of the docked subcity, the mixed residential-commercial zone gave way to shipping warehouses, industrial facilities, and other businesses built around the southern port.
It had been a while since we had last encountered further opposition. Out here it was just empty streets, although here and there I noticed the signs of a work day half abandoned. Crates or tools left lying here or there, sometimes a forklift left out in the open with its cargo still loaded.
Dobermann had run off ahead to rejoin the team she was responsible for, while Nearl stayed to protect our party. I glanced up at the sky. What was it they said about a Catastrophe again?
I didn't need to ask, because Miss Amiya commented on the same thing.
"The Catastrophe is coming soon. I hope most of the civilians were able to safely evacuate."
"They were well underway when I left to rejoin you," Nearl said. "Many of them should have already left Chernobog."
My eyes returned to the skies. So this storm was a Catastrophe. With the way predictive technologies and methodologies had advanced over the years, I'd never seen one before. I imagined most people hadn't.
That made the situation all the more odd. This close to the edge of the city, it was clear as day that Chernobog's megatreads were stationary. Whatever conspiracies were behind this, the result was that this city was about to be hit with disaster.
If it hadn't been for Rhodes Island, I would have been left for dead, if my blood loss didn't claim me first. We all knew it. Miss Amiya simply brought attention to the bargaining chip. There was no explicit agreement between us, but ignoring this life debt would lose me a lot of face, and in a place like Lungmen, that was more than enough ammunition for my rivals.
"I would have been in a lot of trouble if I hadn't met you," I said, to make it clear that I would play ball. "I intend to repay this debt."
The Doctor seemed to regard me curiously, while Miss Amiya shook her head.
"Helping people is what we should do," she said politely.
My smile was sardonic.
"You have my admiration, Miss Amiya."
The embarrassment on her face was convincing and well acted. This girl would make a terrifying opponent, I thought, but it was better to work with competent partners than imbeciles.
Finally, at the end of the street was the edge of Chernobog. Built into the side of the district walls themselves were the air docks, as well as the massive freight elevators that every modern nomadic city boasted. The dock that I entered the city from had been bustling and noisy, audible even from the airport that I had alighted into. This one was abandoned.
Miss Amiya trailed behind us as we approached. When I turned back she was gazing back into the city. I could understand the sentiment. If the missing Recon Team possessed the skills I saw demonstrated by the rest of this company, I, too, would be unwilling to lose them. When the market for labour was in excess demand, there was nothing worse than bleeding expertise due to turnover. Nearl and Medic gave her worried looks.
"Scout is a true veteran of the Kazdel war," Nearl said. "His team will not have fallen without worthy cause."
Miss Amiya nodded. "I believe in them."
When we entered the interior of the southern wall through an industrial entrance, it was silent save for the hum of machinery. It looked like an empty warehouse or factory complex, with more abandoned industrial vehicles. A few cranes stood idle in the distance, while a small fleet of half-loaded freight trucks lay unattended.
Across the loading bay from us, where the plexiglass windows stood, were figures in Rhodes Island colours. One of them waved at us.
"That's Dobermann's team," Medic said with better cheer.
When they were sure we had seen them, they began walking left into the next room, leading the way. As we passed by the windows, Medic stopped to watch in awe. Far down below on the untouched tundra, dozens of landships of different sizes were moving away from us, some so small they could barely be seen from here, and others as large as small suburbs.
"Are these the civilians that managed to escape?" the Doctor asked.
I'd never seen so many landships in one place. Day to day, it was easy to forget the majesty of human accomplishment that landships and nomadic settlements represented. From within, you could scarcely tell them apart from ordinary cities.
"There aren't enough of them," Miss Amiya whispered.
Nearl hummed thoughtfully. "More of the civilians might have left from the west. At least two of the hospitals were in the western subcities."
"I hope so."
We continued along the side of the room until we approached the door our guides disappeared into. Dobermann waited within with a small group of uniformed Rhodes Island personnel.
From Dim Needle's back, I glanced around the room. Filled with surveillance feeds, it appeared to be one of the control centres for the port facilities.
"You're here, Amiya," Dobermann said. "Team Ace is securing the perimeter while my team are keeping their eyes on the security footage. The VTOLs are down the stairs just through here."
Dobermann gestured at a doorway, beyond which I spied a steel staircase.
"We'll be taking turns being ferried, so you and the Doctor will be extracted first."
"The wounded should go first," Miss Amiya said. I couldn't agree more. Get me out of here!
"Our wounded operators are already aboard. The first flights are just waiting on you," said Dobermann.
After a moment of hesitation, Miss Amiya nodded.
"I'll take command of your team and ensure their safe extraction, Amiya," said Nearl.
With that, it was time to depart.
Miss Amiya took the lead, walking briskly down the stairs, while the Doctor followed, looking curiously about the hangar. Medic came along with us to help with the wounded aboard the VTOLs.
"Come on, it's this way."
My ride out of the city was a lot rougher than the one I came in on, but I was appreciative of the helicopter's ruggedness. We entered one of the four vehicles through the rear door. A number of injured personnel were already strapped into stretchers along the sides of the cargo bay.
Dim Needle gently placed me onto a stretcher. I was strapped down next to a young woman who looked like she had been burned, but I turned my focus back to Dim Needle. To the disappointment of my curious side, the face beneath the goggles and scarf wasn't much clearer from the front.
"This has been some eighteenth birthday," I muttered. Abandonment day. Same thing.
Miss Amiya's ears twitched.
"So it's your birthday too…" she said.
I lazily glanced her way.
"Maybe our next one will be better, Miss Amiya."
She smiled, but it wasn't a happy thing.
While my abdomen was checked over by Medic, the rear door began to close. If my ears weren't deceiving me, the other helicopters were preparing for liftoff as well.
Soon after I heard the engines start up, we lifted off. The flight lasted less than two minutes before we landed. When it came time to disembark, I realised we were on an internal helipad of a much larger vehicle. A ground vehicle, because a quick glance upwards was enough to determine that we were deep within Chernobog's looming shadow.
When we were transferred to a medical bay within the larger vehicle, I heard the VTOLs take off again, presumably to ferry the rest of the personnel over. The minutes passed by as I sat there amongst those both worse and less injured than me, alone with my thoughts. Unlike the helicopters that carried me here, the medical bay had a view outside.
It wasn't long before we took off, the large treads of the small landship speeding us across the icy tundra, away from Chernobog.
We had only been moving for five minutes when the sky began to fall on Chernobog. Stones as large as city blocks began to devastate the motionless nomadic city.
Around me, gasps of shock and horror filled the medical bay.
Well, there goes the mining proposal, I thought.
I never wanted to come to this shitty city again.
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