Chapter 1 ultima warhead [military Fantasy, 1,977]
Chapter 1
History is written by the victors. The real history is never written at all.
Mills stopped and placed her bag on the floor beside her. The main departure platforms stretched ahead. She checked her pocket watch, returned it, then glanced around the station: nothing seemed out of place or suspicious. People moved about, some making conversation, others reading the paper, everyone in their own world making their way to their own destination. A train crewman appeared and began calling for passengers to board.
Mills decided she would wait a moment before boarding herself. Looking around, she caught sight of the front page of a paper being read by a gentleman dressed in business attire and wearing a round top hat. Pictured in off-white and black: one behemoth-class warship loomed far above a dusty city. The headline mentioned something about Baleste and the ongoing battles in the region. Though the war had ended almost half a year ago, the empire's struggles with insurgents continued throughout the newly claimed territory.
A light wind swept through the platform as Mills gazed toward the bright opening leading outside. A chill of youthful excitement moved down the back of her neck; beyond the city, a vast world awaited. Though on the surface she wore a soldier's steel mask, a mixture of nervousness and elation permeated through her body. This was her very first mission, and the start of a real adventure. What awaits me out there? she wondered, reaching to cup the back of her neck with a gloved hand while glancing behind her.
The crowd had begun to thin out. Mills reached down, picked up her small bag, and walked toward the train. Stepping up onto the entrance of the car, she made sure to appear as ladylike as she could, taking the hand of the gentleman helping women and children up the steps and even managing a polite smile while doing so.
No expense had been spared in the design of the Volcov train, inside or out. Its robust interior was something to behold; metal elegantly enforced every recess of the locomotive. Mills paused for a moment to peer through the small window on the door leading to the adjoining car. She watched as people took their seats, moving up and down the wide aisle, a fine material lining the chairs along both sides of the car. It was all beautifully designed, she thought, admiring the details throughout. She turned away and began toward the compartment hall to find her room. Arrangements had been made in one of the sleeping cabins and while it wasn't as inconspicuous as she would have liked, her superiors knew best. Besides, she would be well within the empire's dominion for the entirety of the ride; it would be a good idea not to tire herself out before reaching Damascus.
As she turned into the compartment hall, she found a young woman of similar age waiting ahead, wearing a long coat, gloved fists on her hips, watching Mills with an expectant air. Mills passed her without so much as a glance, looked down the dimly lit hallway, most of the compartments empty, then turned to her cabin and slid the door open. Her suspicions were confirmed.
"Mills, you made it." An older woman sat on the bench with a curt smile. "I'm sure you weren't expecting to see me here."
Although caught off guard, Mills quickly stepped inside and gave the sergeant a salute. "Ma'am."
"At ease," Sergeant Jahani said. "Please, take a seat."
Mills noticed a man in a long coat standing beside the door. Both he and the sergeant were dressed in the same covert manner as the young woman outside. He slid the door closed behind Mills as she entered the spacious cabin. She placed her bag down and took the seat opposite Jahani, hands on her lap, face impassive.
The sergeant sat forward, legs crossed, hands clasped on her knees. Beneath the wool coat, Jahani wore a buttoned long sleeve and a knee-length skirt, black pantyhose and black heels. The bright glow from the curtained window illuminated her smooth, dark complexion and the black hair pulled back in a tight bun.
For the most part a stoic figure, though Mills had heard a rumor that she was known to flash a sadistic smile even in the most precarious of situations. Mills ran through the possibilities of the visit before Jahani began to speak.
"We were just scouting ahead, making sure everything is in order, tying up final arrangements," Jahani said. "I thought I'd come and see you before making my exit."
"You're not my contact, are you?" Mills asked, knowing full well the answer.
"No, no. I just got in. Everything is taken care of over there, that I can assure you. The weather can be a little unpleasant this time of year, I'm sure you're aware. Apart from that, what do you know about the situation?"
"I know a bit."
A bit was generous. The briefing had been short and deliberately vague, so much so that she was going into this practically blind. Whatever they wanted her to find out there, they hadn't seen fit to tell her much about it.
Jahani adjusted her skirt and glanced to the man beside her. "Aemon, take Tamren and find your seats. We'll get off at the next stop."
"Yes, ma'am." Aemon turned toward Mills with a smirk and a nod of his cap before exiting the cabin. The door slid closed behind him. Jahani faced Mills, searching.
"Look at you," Jahani said with a chuckle, settling back in her seat, hands clasped on her lap. "How has it been?"
"It's been good." Mills got more comfortable in her seat. "I'm a little nervous, I suppose."
"Well, that's to be expected." Jahani said.
Abruptly, the train began to move, gliding slowly over smooth tracks.
"You know, I'm very proud of you, Mills. Finishing the program. It's not one that many see the end of."
"Thank you, ma'am." Mills looked down, then up, almost blushing. "I was trained by the best."
Jahani smiled. "Oh, you give us too much credit. You really were a great student." She glanced down for a moment, then looked back up. "This is a little unconventional, as you know. It's apparent nothing can be left to chance here, even if it means keeping you in the dark before you've met your contact. What I can tell you is that this mission is essential to keeping the peace."
She paused to consider her words, then went on. "Out there, things may not always be what they seem. People included. Trust what you know. Trust your instincts." She held Mills' gaze for a moment. "That's all I'll say on it."
"Of course, ma'am," Mills said.
Mills had never seen this side of Jahani. It was strange, in a way; she seemed so open, so friendly, as if they were equals. Throughout her training at the academy the sergeant had been one of the toughest of her instructors. For a moment, staring at the smiling Jahani, Mills was transported back to the lower levels of the east wing academy.
Groans echoed deep within the concrete corridors of the underground facility. Mills stood waiting for her turn to enter the training chamber, the meat grinder, she'd heard the others call it, while Infirmary Officer Ellen Khon clasped the remaining buckles of her shield. Metal plate tucked into finely stitched leather, the shield fit comfortably around Mills' chest over her heart, its compact design offering more maneuverability than a standard vest.
Near the side of the room a young man thrashed with muffled cries as two medical officers worked on him. Mills couldn't help but look over her shoulder. Isn't there somewhere they can take him? She'd been dreading this for days. Three years here and her time at the academy was winding down, every step closer to the end more treacherous than the last. It didn't help that her peers had been relentless with wild speculation and rumors. Just weeks ago a fellow trainee had stopped her in the hall, hand on her shoulder, whispering of a body bag seen being wheeled out to one of the elevators.
"You've got this, Mills," the infirmary officer said, making final adjustments to the heart shield. "You've gotten this far. Just remember your training."
Mills stayed silent, annoyed with the nurse and the faculty in general, annoyed with the cries of agony burrowing deep into her skull. When did I get like this? Where's my empathy? She felt physically and psychologically fatigued, worn down by the patterns of her routine, the rigid way things were done down here. And then there were the strange gaps in her memory.
Sergeant Marshel walked out of the training room, stopped in front of Mills, and stood with his hands behind his back. "Alright, you're up." He nodded toward the nurse. The nurse mustered a patient smile and gave Mills a firm pat on the shoulder, a small gesture of goodwill. Mills simply glanced at her with tired, nonchalant eyes and walked to the chamber entrance.
The facility's sound dampeners, built into the drab gray walls, kept the noise to a low murmur.
Wide, with a low ceiling, the room was drenched in white light. Bullet holes littered the cement walls, waiting to be patched after the week's training. This particular room utilized adjustable ballistic walls for different cover configurations via sliding mechanism, but there was no cover now; the room was an open field.
Jahani stood waiting at the center of the chamber in simple training attire: knitted long sleeve, fitted trousers over boots, a chest shield over the top. In her hand she held a black pistol.
Mills walked over and stopped in front of her, pistol in hand. She couldn't help but feel exposed standing there in the empty room.
Sergeant Jahani began to give instruction. Mills stood at the ready, listening intently.
"Of all the things we've hammered into you here, blocking a bullet is the hardest to get right. It demands more from you than almost anything else we teach, perfect read, perfect timing, complete control of your mana in the moment. One slip and the shot gets through. But there are situations where nothing else will save you: outside of cover, no time to dodge, looking to open up a counter. Even as a statement." She paused. "Your indirect work has been reasonable so far."
Reasonable, Mills thought. I barely hit two out of five shots on average in indirect fire training!
"Today we begin direct fire."
Sergeant Jahani stopped pacing and stood before Mills, looking at her. A slight shiver touched Mills as she looked back, unflinching.
"You have decided you are ready. So here we are." Jahani turned her back to Mills and began to walk away.
"I've seen an individual block a bullet at five feet. Today we're giving you a little leeway. We start at forty feet." Mills could hear her voice clearly regardless of distance.
The sergeant stopped, turned, and faced Mills. Mills tugged at the plate on her chest.
A rising tide of panic began to swell within her.
"It all starts with the mind," the sergeant said in a low, hard voice. "Are you ready, Mills?"
That familiar feeling of anxiety crashed over her. Her gun hand began to shake. No, not now. She had to stop herself from shaking her head and screaming, please stop this, stop this stupid exercise!
The mana coursed through her now. She breathed in deeply, steadying her weapon as the sergeant stood sideways and lifted the pistol. Mills' vision narrowed onto her target in absolute focus. She watched Jahani take aim, her finger pulling back on the trigger in slow motion.