Sprout 3.1 Part 3
- Location
- The Lair
Not a lot to say here, just that finally 3.1 is done with this part. Not a LARGE amount of movement, from what you are expecting, and some events are starting that snowball rolling into an avalanche. Not only on one front, but on another front. Like some people have said, there needs to be growth, and in this case, Taylor has cleared one hurdle, but she's stubborn about other hurdles, and developments are coming that are going to have to make her really look at herself in the mirror.
Anyways, enough on the spiel. I know there is a sidestory chapter coming, not sure on the timeline yet, still working it out with others. Hopefully with the next two days off soon, we can iron out the details and release it.
Sprout 3.1 Part 3
Taylor
7:09pm
"So all of these machines run off combustion engines? Is fuel going to be a problem? What is their operational duration?" Lieutenant Adams peppered me with questions as we walked around the LRL. I was using the time to once again review their status, ensuring that everything was ready to go.
I cast a surreptitious glance towards Colonel Herres who was currently speaking in low tones on the Focus that I had given him. It took every fiber of my being not to tap into the datastream and listen into the conversation. As much as I wanted to know what exactly was being said, I also knew that it would be a drastic breach of the tenuous trust I had already established with the Colonel for relatively little gain. I found myself frowning as once again a fault occurred with Burrower Number One, again in the main processor. It wasn't a major fault and it wouldn't impact overall performance, but it was strange in that every time I tried to clear it, it came back.
Making a mental note to explore it once I returned to Brockton, I continued to answer Lieutenant Adams.
"I use a special fuel mixture that I've developed called Blaze. It's a bit grandiose for a name I'll admit, but it does live up to it. It burns stronger and longer than anything currently on the market. And the best part of it all, it's not based on petroleum," I then went on to explain that the Charger and Titan worked in conjunction to produce Blaze from any organic material. I made sure to offer the same assurance that I had given to Vice President Ryan. All the while, the itch to send my machines to work continued to grow.
We shouldn't even be here. We should be putting together a plan of what exactly needs to be done using the tools that we had to save lives. Instead, Herres had to talk with his superiors. Blasted hierarchy systems!
It probably didn't help my mood that I had met my childhood hero and found her extremely disappointing. I had honestly expected more from Alexandria, she should have been at the forefront of saving as many lives as possible. Instead, Alexandria seemed to want to obstruct what I was trying to do! Add to it all, the female member of the Triumvirate was currently hovering nearby, her gaze having not left me since Herres had taken the Focus.
Not to mention how odd she was when my Focus attempted to scan her. All that I was fed through it was a person-shaped void that hung in the air. I could hear what she said, I could pick up the details of her outfit… but her body? It was blank, to both the Ash Nazg and the Focus that Lieutenant Adams was now carrying. It was a problem that I was going to have to work on in future development, but it clearly pointed to the fact that Capes were weird.
"Miss Hebert," Herres had come back from his conversation, "Does this device have a speaker? My superiors need to make an address."
"Not through the device itself, but I can route it through the Titan," I responded, already bringing up the Titan, and adjusted a few settings. The Titan was meant to be the heart of the LRL, so I had included several systems designed for crowd control and communication, so it wasn't that difficult to link Herres' Focus to the Titan. I considered briefly for a moment to activate the holoprojector that was installed on the Titan, but then discarded it. The datastream was all audio, and it would likely only confuse people.
"It's ready," I declared.
Herres nodded, before saying words that caused me to momentarily freeze, "You're on, Mister President."
What?!
"My fellow Americans and every citizen of the world who attended to the defense of Boston. This is President Durling. I am speaking to you from the White House, where my advisors and I have been working to get as much aid headed to you as humanly possible. But the current reality is harsh and we must make harsh decisions in light of that."
After my brief freeze, I immediately reconsidered my previous stance, instead accessing the system, all the while splicing a series of images together. In only a few moments, I had been able to put up a decent image of a photo of President Durling, with the presidential seal hanging under the image. As I was doing this, I was also enabling text-to-speech, enlarging a bubble so people in the distance who may not be able to clearly hear, could still see what was being said. People gathered around, pressing closer to hear. A few fliers hovered overhead.
"Due to the devastation around Boston and the aftereffects of Leviathan's attack, only limited aid will be able to reach you within the next twelve hours. Within twenty-four hours, the full resources of the United States and whatever allies answer the call will be at your doorstep. Until then, hold strong, and do everything you can to save as many lives as possible."
"In light of the loss of the governor and the entire line of succession of the State of Massachusetts, I am now forced to use powers no President has wielded since the civil war reconstruction era. Per Disaster Plan Snow, organized by the Pentagon, I am hereby placing the City of Boston and its surrounding areas under Martial Law. Every federal and local agency will answer to the military command of the area until elections can be organized."
I blinked, not quite believing what I heard, but then after quickly reviewing it through the text-to-speech, I realized that no, it was not a hallucination.
"Colonel Herres, your orders are simple to say, but monumental in their impact. Save everyone that you can. Secure and restore accessibility to Boston Harbor and Logan International Airport. Maintain Order. And rescue Vice President Ryan. Help is coming and the entire efforts of the country are focused on Boston. So hold the line until help arrives. Godspeed, and good luck to each and everyone of you."
I numbly noted the dead silence as the link ended. What Durling was doing was something that had not been done since the Civil War, and here we were standing at ground zero of it all.
"Alright," Herres' voice sounded through the Titan for all to hear, "we're all on the clock now. It has been six hours since Leviathan was pushed back. Night is about to fall, temperatures are going to drop, and we've got a lot of people who need our help. If you can't stay, then make yourself scarce. If you're staying, find someone you can partner with. Capes, that means someone who complements your skills and abilities. When you are done, report to Lieutenant Adams, who will record this. Legend and Alexandria, I want to talk with you. The rest of you, no more running off and doing things on your own. We need to coordinate all our efforts; it's how we are going to save lives. Let's get to it!"
He then turned to me, "Miss Hebert, with me."
I nodded, before falling in line and following him as he moved towards the tent. I idly noted that Legend and Alexandria were getting somewhat heated in an exchange, but from Legend's reactions, he didn't seem to agree with what Alexandria was saying. Alexandria seemed to realize this, as after a moment she nodded to Legend, and they both turned and headed in Herres' direction.
As we entered the tent, I found myself confused as I spotted a group of politicians that were glaring at each other. What were they doing, and why were they even here to begin with?
"Lieutenant Adams," Herres' voice rang out, "Please have Airmen Chalmers and Youst join us."
One of the politicians seemed to notice our presence as he turned to us, "Colonel Herres, what are you-"
He trailed off as the flap opened, and I found myself stepping aside as a pair of airmen with rifles stepped into the tent.
"Gentlemen, President Durling has declared martial law for the City of Boston and its surrounding municipalities. Until further notice, I have been placed in charge of all matters pertaining to rescue and assistance. Now, I'm going to politely ask you to leave."
"What do you think you are doing, Herres," one of them snarled.
"I'm following my commander-in-chief's orders, Senator Furnham," Herres responded, his head moving to scan over the other politicians, "since there is no line of succession and you have all spent nearly three hours arguing who should be in charge, the President has been forced to take extreme measures in order to save American lives."
"That's illegal."
"That's for the courts to decide, Judge Reingold. Until ordered otherwise, this is now my operation. Now, I will ask one more time, then I will have you forcibly ejected, leave!"
"Legend, you are the leader of the Protectorate-"
"I'm sorry, but the President has made it clear who is in charge, Senator," Legend surprisingly shook his head, "if you hadn't been too busy arguing, you may have heard the announcement from the President himself."
They obviously were not expecting such a response from Legend, though why they would think that a federal officer would actively undermine the President escaped me. They stood there, obviously calculating just what their options were, but finally, after another moment, it was Judge Reingold that first moved, getting up from a chair and walking towards them.
He stopped, his eyes coming to rest upon me, his eyes blinking as if surprised to see me. Then he scoffed, moving past them and heading out of the tent.
Realizing that their cause was obviously lost, despite the fact that they were opposing sides, they slowly followed after the Judge, offering barely any opposition in the face of futility.
Then we were then left alone, just the five of us. Herres walked to a map that was sitting on the table, and turned to look at us.
"Legend, Alexandria, and Miss Hebert, I'm going to be relying upon the three of you quite heavily in the days going forward. So, I'm going to cut to the chase. Whatever differences currently exist between the Protectorate, PRT, and you, Miss Hebert, are irrelevant in the face of my orders. If any of you have a problem with that then voice your objections now, because as soon as we start getting to work, I expect your total focus on the job."
I glanced over at Alexandria's… void. If my Focus couldn't give me data, then judging her thoughts was impossible. But I didn't hear any fabric moving, so I'm assuming that she wasn't moving. Honestly, the Protectorate and PRT had become an afterthought up until Alexandria's sudden accusation. I just didn't really care. I was building far too much momentum, especially with the sudden interest of the Vice President, to really be bothered by whatever they were doing.
Taking the silence as acquiescence, Herres nodded, "Well then, let's get to work on saving lives. Miss Hebert, do you have any other tricks up your sleeve to assist?"
I blinked at the sudden non sequitur, before I quickly recovered, "Yes. One moment," I responded, even as I accessed Charger One, tasking it to approach the tent, bringing my laptop and its accessories stored in its saddlebag. I noted through its vision the sudden tension at the sight of the large machine approaching, but nobody did anything as I stepped out of the tent and proceeded to dig into the saddlebag, retrieving my laptop and turning back into the tent. I retasked the Charger to return back to its holding position, even as I placed my laptop down on the table over the map and linked it into the platform that I pulled from the bag.
"If I may," I asked as I looked to Herres, who gave me a nod. I stepped back, sending a nudge through my link even as I accessed the laptop and platform, watching as the data began to be shared and projected through the device. It brought up a map of Boston that laid flat only a few inches over the projector and laptop, "this is an interactive reconstruction of Boston and surrounding areas, using data collated from search engines, government websites, and other sources."
I then accessed a file, and I watched through the Focus as another overlay was placed over Boston, this time a deep shade of red ate into the city, consuming the beachfront, and all of the waterfront, before spearing into downtown and further beyond.
"This is Scenario Boston-Theta, based upon simulations I had run over the last month," I announced, knowing I was probably stepping too far, but I had a feeling that this was the likely path and angle of attack that Leviathan had taken based upon what few reports I had been able to glean. All of this had been simulated by Sobek as further learning, but they didn't need to know about that. Nor did they need to know that I had hundreds of different simulations for cities up and down the eastern seaboard.
I had a feeling that I was right based upon how Alexandria and Legend were staring at me. Herres on the other hand, was simply staring at the map, his thoughts as inscrutable as his expression.
"Alexandria," he finally said, "is this an accurate summation of areas directly affected by Leviathan's attack?"
"It is. Though," she stepped forward running her finger a little below the northern border of the estimated damage of the scenario, a bright blue line remaining in place where she touched the map, "the extent of the damage to the north only extends this far. Also, Fenway Park appeared to be still intact upon initial pass, albeit flooded at the moment."
"What's the extent of damage at Logan and the debris in the bay?"
"On my last pass, what is left of Logan is currently on fire in several sections, likely due to the destroyed aircraft and spilled jet fuel. The Bay is currently a mess at the moment, there is currently too much debris to safely traverse it."
That fit with the scenario, I thought morbidly, even as Herres stared at the displayed map. As he did that, I adjusted the map to reflect Alexandria's damage assessment. I considered adjusting the look of downtown, but honestly, until I had imagery of the area it was probably unwise.
"How many Foci have you brought, Miss Hebert?"
"Five hundred, excluding my personal model and the model my father has," I answered automatically.
"How many can you produce and ship here in a reasonable time frame?"
"Realistically? Maybe another one to two hundred every three to four days if we really push it, but the issue I'm running into is that I've tapped out Zero Dawn's startup funds and my people are already exhausted. I have my Vice President reaching out to one of our original investors to see if we can get more funds, but she's doubtful we will get anything," I hesitated, "my other investor was at ground zero of Leviathan's attack."
"So production comes down to money," Herres asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction.
"All my people know what I've been spending money on, and they were hired exactly because they believe in the cause. They'll work if I ask them to. But noble causes don't put food on the table, and it doesn't buy me the materials that I need to make my devices." I shrugged, refusing to be cowed. "I am not proud of admitting it, but I've stretched my company too thin, too quickly, Colonel. The money that I have left is meant to keep the lights until the first large contracts bear fruit."
"Alright then, we work with what we have for now. I'll see about getting you additional funding. You said you ran simulations? How in depth are we talking, and how good was your computer?"
"My computer is top-of-the-line and the simulations were very thorough."
"So you have suggestions on next actions?"
I briefly hesitated. I was not afraid of making suggestions, but even I wasn't so obtuse to not recognize that I was technically stepping into a situation I had neither the experience or expertise in. I had done research, I had dumped quite a bit of effort in my downtime to learn as much as I could, but it wasn't something that I could legitimately sit here and claim I was the foremost expert.
But on the other hand, he was asking for my honest opinion and lives were on the line.
"Yes," I finally answered, girding myself for treading deeper into the waters.
Herres nod of approval buoyed me as he crossed his arms, "Alright, walk me through it. Quickly."
I cast a quick glance to the other pair but they kept their peace, choosing instead to watch me intently. Taking a deep breath, I began to manipulate the display, even as I tapped into the confidence that I previously had shown.
"Colonel, we need three things right now: Shelter, food, and storage for the dead."
I paused as a few men shuffled into the tent, setting up tables and placing maps of the local area down. I took a few moments pause to further organize my thoughts.
"Endbringer shelters are not meant for comfortable habitation longer than forty-eight hours. We need a clear location for people to gather, " I highlighted three locations on the map, placed north, west, and south of the downtown area. "I would suggest moving to the main campus at Boston College and using it as the central hub for disaster relief and operations. There is enough space to handle a large influx of people, and if power can be restored, it has the facilities to further coordinate everything. As for secondary command centers, I would suggest using campuses of Tufts University to the north, and Milton Academy to the south."
I then proceeded to highlight several locations, making sure that all of them were outside of the disaster zone.
"We then need to utilize every undamaged recreation center and hotel for shelter, prioritizing families - especially those with small children - and the elderly for these locations. Everyone else can be placed in tents placed on open fields and in stadiums. After that, we need to track down as many city engineers and water treatment specialists as we can; the water system is either contaminated with saltwater brought in by Leviathan, or broken because of the fighting. We need to do a damage assessment and get an estimate on how long it will take us to at least restore running water. The same goes with sewage, we need to get that contained as quickly as possible or disease is going to skyrocket."
Taking a deep breath, noting I hadn't been interrupted once, I decided to keep going. If they had an alternative, then they would likely interrupt me.
"Food is the next critical thing. We are going to need runners or fliers to find every grocery store or supermarket in the local area. Then we'll need to send trucks and other assets to go there and grab everything they can. Start with fresh foods. We're going to have to host one of the largest barbecues anyone has ever seen."
"This hardly seems like the time, Miss Hebert," Legend interjected in a neutral tone, causing me to frown before I looked at him.
"As the old saying goes, civilization is only four square meals from being cast aside. I'd rather not have Boston become confirmation of that. There is enough food in the city to feed every resident the minimum healthy caloric intake for three days. But without power and the ability to preserve this food, it is going to go bad within twenty-four hours. Cooking it now preserves a lot of it and reduces locations that could be looted, and most importantly," I allowed myself to pan my gaze over the room, making sure to keep my head held high, "it keeps people busy. Busy means people are too distracted to have the time to panic, start trouble, or break down over loss. We have to keep people moving and give them purpose to avoid this event as long as possible. It doesn't matter what they are doing, as long as we keep them active and their activities have or appear to have a point, we buy more time before the inevitable crash."
"Furthermore, with the temperature dropping, having hot food will help keep morale up. And we can keep rescue work going without distractions," Legend was nodding consideringly now, watching as notes and icons appeared on the floating map, Sobek quietly picking up some of the slack for me.
Thank you, Sobek, I sent a quiet message through the link, wondering if Sobek was self-aware enough yet to recognize my gratefulness. It would probably be years until that point, until we truly would be able to actually confer with one another, but it was the thought that counted in my mind.
Colonel Herres seemed to agree with his own nod, "Make them too tired or busy to complain. I like it. And the rest?"
This was the part I really didn't want to discuss, but I knew that I had to regardless. Even if the fact that it was distasteful because it was a reflection of failures not of my own, but a failure nonetheless.
"Find the nearest ice rinks. If the cooling is safe and working, they will serve as the morgue for now. We'll start," I hesitated again, before forcing myself to continue, "... we'll catalogue the dead there. Identify them if possible, comparing them to public records once we have access so we can inform the next of kin."
Quickly transitioning away from the morbid subject, I adjusted the map again, looking to change back to something more my comfort, "We're going to need to start stockpiling organic material. Spoiled food from the supermarkets should be the initial focus; after that, trees, branches, and large piles of leaves."
"I understand the need for wood for fuel. But why would we be collecting food waste?"
"Because food waste would require the least amount of time and energy to process into Blaze," I glanced up from the map, locking Herres under my gaze, "without Blaze, the LRL will be unable to operate, and there are no substitutes available. Blaze can be processed from other organic material, but the 'softer' it is the better."
I waved my hand over the map, and dozens of dots appeared over the map, highlighting large grocery stores, "Currently, the LRL has enough fuel for operation for seven days, once the trucks get here, but if we can get the Charger to work immediately, we can build a large enough stockpile to then use it for other means, like fuel for cooking or just fires for warmth."
"That has the potential to be extremely hazardous, Alloy. Humans are organic afterall," Alexandria spoke up, her tone neutral, but I could almost taste the challenge in her tone. I turned my head toward her, making sure that I nonverbally conveyed my annoyance at not only the power play, but the fact that I was being forced to look at the void again.
"That is why there are several safeguards in the programming to prevent such an occurrence," I returned, keeping my tone as tight as possible, but I knew it would be obvious to everyone else I was irritated with her. "It's hard-coded into them to ignore anything matching a human signature or biological makeup. The only way to override it is to physically hack the machine directly, wipe, and then reprogram it. I'm an engineer, Alexandria, not a Tinker on a power trip. I take appropriate precautions and I know my product intimately."
"Enough, Alexandria," Legend's voice cut off whatever retort Alexandria had ready, and both of our heads snapped to the leader of the Protectorate who looked none-too-pleased, though I was unsure if it was the fact that he was overriding his second-in-command, or the fact that he was siding with me, "Miss Hebert, please continue."
I didn't feel a bit of petty victory, I swear, because I immediately continued with barely an acknowledgement to the head of the Protectorate, "Once we are able to organize our efforts, we need to put some effort into clearing the roads into and out of the city. The reason for this is two-fold. With the roads cleared, those who can leave will take the opportunity, which reduces the overall logistical burden. Also, having clear in and outs lets us track and direct supplies and support that will be coming into the city.."
"We also need to reopen Logan at all costs. It is going to be the keystone for immediate relief. Having semi trailers is good, but we are going to desperately need an airfield for heavy lift capacity, and Logan is our best and only option. If we can operationally restore Logan, we can turn it into the core logistical hub and staging point for the rest of the city."
I took a deep breath and then released it, trying to calm my nerves for what I was going to suggest next. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable with it, I believed that it was a good step forward, but the fact of the matter was, it was revealing yet another card in my deck that I simply hadn't had the time for because I was already stretched so damnably thin.
It certainly also didn't help that so far, Herres was asking for my opinion, and what I was going to say next was certainly not an opinion of diagnosis. For a moment, I thought about not suggesting it, but I was already far too deep than I could have ever imagined. I had figured I would be in the field by now, saving lives, not doing any of this.
Clenching my hands into fists, then releasing them, I reached up, knowing it looked quite weird to those who could not see what I was looking at, and tapped it. Immediately it began downloading from the lab in Brockton Bay, even as I started again.
"Finally, I need a direct line to Dragon."
"Why, Miss Hebert?" Legend asked, and I was grateful for it. I don't know if I would have been able to respond professionally to Alexandria if she had decided to do whatever it was she was angling at. I still didn't understand her animosity towards me. It wasn't like I had ever met her before or had done anything to earn her ire in the first place.
"Dragon is probably the closest that I have to a peer in robotics and technology in North America. She also has a production capacity that frankly dwarfs what Zero Dawn can achieve at this time. If we're going to save Boston, we're going to need her production lines."
"Thank you for your input, Miss Hebert, but let's focus on the immediate problems using what we have at hand," Herres rejected. I bit back a retort, worried that I had overstepped myself, but I seemed to be mistaken as Herres then looked over to Legend.
"Legend, you said your people had already searched some areas?"
The man in blue stepped forward, pointing out several buildings, "Yes, I personally led a team to search what was left of city hall. I believe a second team searched through here," he pointed at another place, and here, "But they have yet to report back. Then we had another team do a quick pass in this area…"
The more Legend spoke, the more I realized just how much coordination was lacking when it came to post-Endbringer response. Search patterns were spotty and uncoordinated, information was unreliable, and reports as a result were inconsistent at best. Is this how an Endbringer fight was done? How did they even survive?! Resisting the urge to sigh and feeling the ever-pressing gaze of Alexandria on me, I continued to update the map as Legend continued speaking.
As Legend began to wrap up his report, I prepared myself for what was going to happen next. Herres was going to make a decision based upon all of the information he had. While I didn't know exactly what he was going to decide, I knew he had no choice but to deploy me. It would be foolish to not use your best search and rescue asset. Already, I was preparing the LRL for deployment, ensuring that all of the units were fully fueled and ready to move at a moment's notice.
I refocused now as Legend finished, Herres' gaze focused upon the holographic map, and I readied for the word to be given.
"Miss Hebert. Are you capable of monitoring all of your Foci in real-time?"
"Yes," I found myself instantly responding, even though I felt a bout of curiosity as to why he would be asking that question. I would have thought it would have been obvious to him, but it was just as likely he was confirming instead of making the assumption.
"Alright." Herres nodded, then his gaze moved to the two Protectorate leaders. "Legend, organize your capes into teams. I need a flight team to head for the Kidd and deliver Focus devices and link them into communication with us. I need Alexandria and a team of Brutes to clear the Harbor enough to bring the Kidd into dock. I need another team to pair up with my men and start heading over to Logan to clear the runways. The facilities come second, but if they need to be destroyed, please clear it with me first. We'll need Movers and Flyers checking the roads in and out of the city and have them report back on any blocked or broken areas. Finally, I need another team of Movers to start spreading the word that we are reorganizing at Boston College, Milton College, and Tufts University."
His initial piece said, Herres then turned to me. "Miss Hebert, I need you to contact your people and tell them to divert to the Boston College campus if they can. If not, then one of the other locations will have to suffice. After that, transfer nominal control of the LRL over to Lieutenant Adams; he will be leading the push into the Downtown area where the Vice President was last reported."
"What," I spoke aloud, not quite believing what I was hearing, but then I realized that I in fact had not misheard him, "No! These are my machines! I know them best! I can help! I came here to help!"
Herres leaned over the table, before looking over the room.
"Legend, Alexandria, go organize your teams. We'll be setting out soon. Everyone else, clear the room. Miss Hebert, please stay."
I clenched my jaw. Clearly, he didn't want any witnesses when he argued with me. It only took a short time, but we were finally alone, with the glowing display of the city resting between the two of us. If I wasn't so angry with the colonel, I'd probably find some sort of symbolism in this.
"Miss Hebert. No," he corrected himself with a shake of the head, "Taylor, I know how you feel. You want to go out there and make a difference, because you believe you alone can solve the issue," he then held up a hand and cut me off before I could offer a rebuttal, "Just, listen to me for a minute, okay?"
I relented, and he took my silence as permission.
"Taylor, let me be clear. In this tent, you are a logistical mastermind and tech expert. But out there? You are a young girl without brute powers who can only see the world as a wireframe. That's a liability. And one of the first things they teach you about search and rescue is that you should never add to the number of people needing help. Your machines are great, a miracle of engineering, really, and I have no doubt they will save many lives. But the issue in all of this is not your machines, but you. There is a saying - infantry wins battles, logistics wins wars. It's a little off the subject matter, but the essence still applies. You can go out there, Taylor, as the infantry, and you can maybe win a few battles here and there, but is it really winning the war?"
I wanted to rage against him, that he was wrong, I wasn't a liability, but I stopped myself, the words sinking in. Just what he was trying to imply, and he didn't stop even as I ran the words over and over in my head.
"And we are fighting a war here, Taylor. And the best thing that you brought with you that could stem the tide of this war, is your Foci and the network they run on. And I need you here, running that network and ensuring that it is maintained so that everyone is able to communicate and know what to do without fail. Because within the next hour, people are going to start showing up and looking to help. They will have the best of intentions, but if they do not know where to go and what to do, how are they going to save lives?"
Damn you. I ground my teeth as I realized exactly what he was building toward. The worst part of it all was that I was finding myself in agreement, even though I tried to poke holes in his argument. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was not only wrong, but he was throwing away lives for his own perceived read… but I couldn't.
"Then, as time goes on, the largest mobilization of men, machines, and supplies are going to hit this city in numbers not seen since Behemoth hit New York. But the longer those people, supplies, and machines stay idle, the more people will suffer."
He motioned to the map that floated before us, only twisting the knife harder into any argument that I could offer.
"The information you can provide is the logistics we need to win this war, Taylor. You can save more lives here, coordinating everything, than you could ever could out in the field with the LRL digging through rubble. Because in my opinion, the LRL is not the machines, they are but one facet to it. No, the true heart of the LRL is everyone linked into the Focus network, guided with purpose and knowledge."
He walked around the table, dropping a hand on my shoulder as my fists shook, my jaw aching from how much I wanted to tell him that he was wrong. But I couldn't. Goddamn him, I just fucking couldn't!
"But you have to choose, Taylor. I can order you, but I would likely be causing more harm than good in the long run. So instead, I'm going to put it to you and tell you that this is what leadership looks like. It's about utilizing the best of people's skills and abilities for a goal. It's about making the hard and sometimes selfless choices. You came here wanting to do the hands-on stuff, but you're more useful as a coordinator and leader. I'll give you a few minutes to decide before we move out, Taylor, but I think you already know what you need to do."
His hand then dropped off my shoulder and he strode past me.
It was as the canvas of the tent rustled back into place behind me as he exited that the dam finally broke, and my fist impacted the table, rattling the laptop and holotablet and causing the map to briefly flicker.
11:47pm
8hr 2min remaining until reinforcements arrive
The next few hours flew by in a blur of slowly creeping exhaustion mixed with adrenaline. In the end, I had acquiesced to Herres' request. The man had been right, as much as I wanted to deny it. There was no doubt that I could make a larger difference managing the network than I could have possibly done by going out. It still sat poorly with me, but what could I do in lieu of the honest admission.
Instead of raging at the injustice of reality, I chose distraction by burying myself in work. First, preparing for the transfer to the Boston College campus, but then training people in the usage of the Focus. The latter was more taxing than the former, with so many people with different questions and having to basically be a one woman tech support for the device.
I winced as I sipped from a can with a lukewarm energy drink, I refocused on the new task that I had been given. My hands were clammy; the temperature outside was dropping as night wore on, but inside was sweltering with so many people coming and going. Around me dozens of people spoke into radios, worked over maps, made lists on whiteboards and chalkboards that had been rolled into this conference room. In front of me, dominating the table, the holotablet projected a map of Boston. Dozens of icons flashed and updated as data came in and orders went out. Our refugee camps were set up, and slowly taking people in. Large communal kitchens had been set up in sheltered tents, keeping off the slow rain that had started up again. Aid and volunteers were being intercepted at the borders of the city, then being redirected to different parts, keeping the roads clear. The Kidd has safely docked in the Harbor, and was leading rescues on the water and up and down the coast. Dozens of smaller boats, privately owned and commercial, had begun arriving. The Navy was in charge of their organizing and deployment.
I cursed slightly as I missed a key, backspacing a few times and inputting the correct information. I shook my hands out, annoyed at the slight shake that had developed. It would pass.
Logan International was a wreck, but the runway was clear. The teams were working to get the roads into the city in working order, and rig up a rudimentary Radar and Tower Control.
Dad had arrived, and quickly organized most of the city workers he could find. He had them working to get the storm drains and sewer system unblocked. He might not know anything about plumbing, but he did know people and how to put their talents to efficient use. The frantic pace and setting honestly seemed to be doing him some good.
Every single focus I had brought with me was now handed out, some to individuals and some to teams. By the calculations of the professors here at the College, radios should clear up soon, at least enough that the incoming rescue efforts the President promised would be able to use handhelds.
All the while, the data feed from the LRL played in the corner of my vision. Even if I couldn't be there with them, I could still monitor them and ensure that they performed well.
Herres had chosen well, much to my chagrin. Lieutenant Adams was a hard driver, but he was also slow and methodical in how he approached everything. It honestly felt daunting in how well he was controlling the LRL.
I took a breath, annoyed at the pinch in my chest and the exhaustion that battered at my synapses. It was good that I didn't need eyes to see, they would probably be closed with how tired I felt. I reached for my drink. I needed to finish this. A sudden shock ran through me and I could feel my hand spasm, knocking the can over. I stared at it for a brief moment, not quite comprehending what I was witnessing, before my mind caught up and I shot to my feet, intent on cleaning up the mess.
Only, my mind sputtered and hitched at the sudden feeling of light-headedness. That was easy to fix, my foggy mind supplying the answer, and I braced myself against the table. But why was that pinch making it difficult for me to gather enough air to breathe?
As I pondered the reason, my legs gave out from under me and my chin smacked down on the table, momentarily filling my vision with stars.
But strangely, I could still see, even if everything felt like it was covered in a strange film. I had never experimented with how the Focus would translate data if the wearer experienced head trauma. To my surprise, the Focus continued beaming images into my brain despite what happened. Herres stood over me, shouting at the door.
I tried to breathe again, that damnable pinch seeming to mock me further even after it had brought me low. Everything felt so heavy…
Why were we moving? Everything was a blur…
Why were we running…?
Why couldn't I…..
Crystal Pelham
1:28am
6hr 1 min until reinforcements arrive
Crystal Pelham was no stranger to pain. Cape life wasn't exactly free of scrapes and bruises, but most of the time she didn't hurt for long. It was one of the perks of having the legendary Panacea as a cousin. It had guaranteed her a college life where she didn't have to worry about the blemishes, injuries, and pains that had accumulated in her career as Laserdream.
She had thought that she would have an easier time in retirement! Sure, she'd use her powers to show off a little at parties, but nothing too crazy. Picking a fight with gangbangers was in the past, and most certainly not getting involved in an Endbringer fight.
Which was, of course, the reason why her everything currently hurt!
Without moving too much, she breathed, trying to focus herself and release some tension as…
"Son of a bitch," she snarled, her teeth bared like a feral animal.
The man hummed, but otherwise didn't offer any other comment as he expertly tied and tightened the tourniquet on her leg with the casual ease of someone almost too familiar with the task. She really wanted to hit him, but that would probably be unwise. After all, while striking the Vice President for his poor bedside manner might be warranted, she doubted the authorities would take exception once they got out of there.
If we get out of here. She quickly quelled that errant thought. She refused to think like that, not after everything so far.
Instead she adjusted her arm, the numbness receding back into a dull and throbbing ache. She hadn't been able to move her arm much in the hours since they had been trapped here. The small shield that she had manifested and now maintained was their only buttress against the support that threatened to give away and crush them, and also served as the only light source within their little alcove.
"All done, Miss Pelham. Don't worry, you'll be back on those pretty legs of yours in no time."
"Normally, that would be good to hear," she quipped with a smile, the levity serving as a distraction from their plight. Though, in the end it failed, as the dust on her lips slipped past the cracks. "But I'm not sure how I should feel about a politician of your stature making such remarks about my legs. Especially considering your predecessor."
Ryan chuckled as he shuffled back, leaning his back against a collapsed beam, "Hey, I'd like to think I'm a step above the former Vice President Matthews. I'm in the prime of life," he then leaned slightly forward, as if he was going to share a secret, "And I'm certainly better looking."
Despite the absurdity of the fact that she had the Vice President trying to act suave to someone half his age, she found herself laughing, which caused her to hiss as her ribs protested at the action. She ignored the wet feeling soaking her jeans. It was just water.
"While you may find this amusing, do remember to keep calm. Aim to conserve oxygen."
She resisted the urge to sigh as she was reminded that they were not alone. And of course, their accompaniment would be their actual downer of it all. She turned her head slightly over her shoulder, shifting her fist to brighten the other half of this little crawl space. She had to admit, it hurt to see such a nicely cut suit in such a sorry state of disrepair. On the plus side, at least it was an inconvenience to the unrepentant villain, if only monetarily.
It was like the start of a bad joke, a hero, a super villain, and the Vice President of the United States trapped in the collapsed remnants of a business hall. She wasn't sure what the build-up would be, but she knew that the punchline was going to be killer. At least she'd have something to joke about at parties when she got out of her.
If I get out of here, that damnable killjoy whispered in her head. No, I'm going to get out of here!
"The human desire for companionship is a strange and powerful thing, Mr. Accord. After all it led you to me, instead of seeking shelter during an Endbringer attack."
A soft click of the tongue came from Accord, as his attention refocused away from her and back to him. It was strange, yet no surprise, that the turning gears on his mask were now dead, having been choked to death by the dust and debris, "Pure self-interest," the villain retorted. "On multiple levels, saving you was the most efficacious path forward."
"I think Miss Pelham here had a big part to play in things."
Accord glanced at her, mouth twisting in distaste, before he quickly dismissed her to her irritation as he looked back to Ryan, "She contributed, but she was also a detriment. It would have been less complicated if she hadn't thrown too many random variables in the mix."
"Those random variables," she hissed, "are called people! You don't get to just write off dozens of lives simply because they are inconvenient!"
Because that was the thing. Even with the three of them trapped in this little bubble of wreckage, there were others who had been less fortunate. Some of them they could still hear from time to time, plaintively crying out for help; sometimes when it was really quiet, they could hear whispered prayers. But then there were others that were not even answering anymore.
"Miss Pelham. Contrary to what most Hallmark cards will tell you… not everyone matters. It's a simple fact that their positions, their actions and ambitions, and even their birth, will deny them the opportunity to ever have the chance of influencing the people and world around them. They will live out their lives, content with their simplistic dullness. But the world? It's made up of complex systems, and there are people who exist as levers to wield those systems. The Vice President here is an accomplished statesman and high official. Though his words and actions alone, the fates of nations can change. So yes, he is more important than them, than you, or even myself."
She may not fight anymore, but she remembered her mom's stories. About how there were different kinds of villains. Some were desperate. Others were out for the thrill of it. But of all villains, the worst were the true believers. The ones with a cause. She had never really understood why that was until now, staring into those cold eyes as this man calmly explained why people didn't matter. It was good that Ryan chose to speak up at that moment, because she wasn't sure what to say, or even, what she may do otherwise.
"And you're looking to influence what exactly? This plan does seem to carry an element of risk. It's not everyday that willfully getting a building dropped on yourself is considered a good option."
She grimaced at the flash of the memory of the desperate attempt to escape Leviathan's devastation. Of the alarms blaring and people rushing about without a clue of what to do. Not even herself. Then her arm being grabbed and she was pulled along after Boston's preeminent crime lord. Then being told to follow him even as walls began collapsing and pillars gave way as they moved. Accord shouting at Ryan, even as his security detail tried to evacuate him. Herself shouting for people to follow closely, all the while Accord was shouting at her, and Ryan shouting at Accord as she blasted a path with her lasers.
Then hearing the groan as the building came down around them, leaving her to wonder if she would live to see her mom again.
"A gesture of trust. I would hope by doing this, you would consider me truthful when I give you certain information."
Ryan waved a hand, and she transferred her shield to the other arm, ignoring the growing pressure behind her eyes. She had never held a shield up for so long before, and it was slowly becoming an increasingly unpleasant strain.
"No time like the present. Secrets shared in a foxhole and all that."
The resultant glance at her caused her to quickly realize that whatever Accord wanted to share was not something he wanted people to know. Well, that was too bad for him, because as soon as she got out of her, she would make it a point of sharing it.
If you get out of here, that traitorous voice whispered in her head, making her want to scream.
There must have been some sort of unspoken message exchanged between the two men, as Accord seemed to decide to ignore her once again. Whatever it was, it was making him talk.
"It is my understanding that you met recently with a promising young woman. One who might have a significant impact upon the world in the future. I wish to make it clear that when I was originally approached for funding, it was under my civilian persona and done strictly in a business capacity. I was the investor with no interest beyond seeing a return upon my investment."
"Understandable. The fact remains that it was a significant investment, one that will naturally attract further scrutiny as her star rises. Especially as your investment has only grown since. Clearly your goals have changed. What brought this on?"
Accord cocked his head to the side, "You could say that I fell in love."
"I would remind you, sir, that the girl in question is fifteen." Ryan's voice grew deadly quiet, and Crystal shivered at the implicit threat that lurked within that simple sentence and tone.
"Spare me your condemnation. I have never been interested in the biological attraction that fascinates so many people. No, what I came to admire was her vision. Tell me honestly, how many people do you believe could fulfill the promise for the new world that she envisions and is striving towards?"
Before she realized what she was doing, because this was getting a little too weird for her tastes, she threw her own two cents into the mix.
"You know, when people start talking about things like 'new world' and 'vision', nothing good usually comes from it. The Eighty-Eight crazies from my hometown come first to mind."
The disapproving look that she garnered from Accord made her wilt slightly. How a villain of all things could suddenly make her feel like she was an idiot child eluded her, but the feeling still remained the same. Carol could take points from him.
"You will find in history, Miss Pelham, that change always comes to the detriment of someone else. Whether it be those that cling to the comfort of the status quo, or those who simply are unfortunate enough to be in the way of progress. But, like treating any wound or infection, sometimes the pain wrought by change is necessary to feel better afterwards."
She couldn't help but feel sick. There was truth in what he was saying, and no matter how much she wanted to deny it, he had hit a chord within her. Whether he knew it or not, his statement hit too closely to the New Wave's reality. She wasn't old enough to have been part of its initial rise, but she unfortunately knew why the Brockton Bay Brigade became New Wave. It had been a sobering experience to know the actual truth, and it had only helped to assist her in making the decision to leave New Wave and attend college instead of staying.
Luckily for her, Ryan decided to respond to Accord, saving her from either having to offer an answer or admit that Accord was right.
"It would be safe to assume then, that you plan to continue supporting her and her endeavors?"
The villain shifted, taking the time to wipe his sleeves off in a futile attempt to clean them.
"Yes, I do. While my assets have certainly become diminished given the likely state of Boston, they are not exhausted. I will rally what I can, along with the allies that I can muster, and devote everything possible to ensuring that she succeeds. In fact, just prior to this debacle, I learned that there is a new threat that is poised to possibly threaten her goals."
"It seems we may have a common thread then, Accord. Perhaps we can talk further in the future, I would be curious to know more."
What the actual fuck?!
"Maybe we shall," her head spun at what she was hearing. Who was it that the Vice President and Accord were talking about? Who was so important in their opinion that they would be conspiring to support? And who was it that wanted to change the world…presumably in ways that were painful, disruptive, dangerous, or some combination of all three.
She may be out of the loop on the cape side of things, but even then, if there was someone who was that powerful and important, then she should have heard of them. But there was absolutely no one who came to mind who would cause these two men to work together.
"Who the hell are you talking about," she demanded.
Both men turned their heads toward her, and she felt suddenly she was ill-equipped for the situation, even if she was the one literally keeping them all alive. They then exchanged a look between the two, and Ryan merely shrugged his shoulders, and she had the gut feeling that the message exchanged was one that already dug her in deeper than she could ever imagine.
"I am rather surprised you don't already know her by now, Miss Pelham," Ryan said, "after all, the young woman in question is from Brockton Bay."
But before she could ask anything further, a sound caused them all to freeze. For a brief moment, she was wondering if it wasn't a collective hallucination brought on by the slowly diminishing oxygen supply. But then it came again, only it was different from the creaks and groans that had been their accompaniment for hours, a sound of metal scraping over concrete.
A slight rumble sounded again, as something moved amongst the concrete. She tensed, ignoring the twinges of pain that shot through her body as she prepared for whatever it was. Because the sound was getting closer and more clear, a methodical grinding sound mixed with metallic scraping.
Finally the sound was near enough it was harsh on her ears. With a dull roar, a metallic head pushed its way through the concrete, ballooning dust into their chamber. She winced as rock splinters pinged against her shield, only adding to her pangs of pain. But as the dust cleared, she got her first look at whatever it was that had done what it did.
Blue lights glared in the darkness, but it was subdued enough for her to make out a metallic face. Only it wasn't a human face. It did not have a mouth, instead with a long vertical blue light bar running down the middle of the face, with a pair of blue 'eyes' on either side of the bar. Three grinding rotors snapped back, clearing the machine's field of view. It perked its head up, looking at her, before then scanning around the room. It then released digital noise that sounded almost like a warble, before it suddenly pulled itself out of the hole and clambered into their chamber, the damn thing chittering excitedly now.
It was then that she got a good look at the machine; her hand twitched with the urge to do something about the machine as it warbled again and stamped its two front feet back and forth in what she could only swear was glee. It had a long ferret-like body with sharp claws and a tail, its head bobbing and weaving as it looked between them all again, before it refocused upon her.
It then scampered over to her.
"Hey!"
But before she could say anything more, it looked intently at her injured leg before laying its metallica head on her uninjured leg. It twisted slightly, turning its optics to stare up at her with its tail thumping back and forth on the ground.
"A very promising young woman indeed," Accord commented silently, even as she stared at the machine that did everything in its power to look adorable. Releasing a sigh, she gave into the temptation, using her free hand to pat the strangely lifelike machine on the head, making sure to keep her hand away from the grinders. In response, its tail thumped harder and it seemed to shiver up and down its frame.
"Well," Ryan mused, dusting himself off and slowly getting to his feet, "it seems we're going to be rescued sooner rather than later."
He was proven to be right. Within moments thereafter, the strange machine raced back into the hole it had made, and they could hear commotion coming their way. Debris being shifted, rescuers calling out, and the sound of cutting and grinding as obstacles were removed. The entire time she kept her shield up, the pounding behind her eyes firmly ignored now that the rescue was so close.
Soon they were brought out, men and women stained with dirt, caked in dust, and with great smiles of relief on their faces as they were gently led through the maze of collapsed rubble. It was cold, with rain having turned the ground into a muddy morass. Yet to her, it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.
She found herself helped into a waiting tent, where a man quickly and efficiently cleaned and bandaged up her leg. With the strain of her plight ending, she could feel herself drifting off.
Only for that to end as Ryan walked in, soldiers hovering protectively at his side. A few quiet words had them moving back outside, leaving the two of them alone.
"Miss Pelham," he began after looking at her for a moment, "I want to clarify something with you. About what you might, or might not have heard while trapped. It's important, because according to everyone's testimony you didn't hear anything. You don't remember anything. If anyone, and I mean anyone asks, you will tell them it was all a blur."
Gone was the friendly, joking figure that she was trapped with. She could tell immediately that this was the Vice President of the United States acting in his official capacity.
"I hope we understand each other, Miss Pelham."
She wet her lips. Even after two bottles of water, they still felt dry.
"Or else?" she asked.
He grinned, but it was not a friendly one.
"I sincerely hope that we don't get to that, Miss Pelham. But yes, unfortunately. 'Or else'."
She nodded quietly, and Ryan left. Laying back down on her cot, she resolved herself to just put all of this behind her. She didn't want to deal with intrigue and secret deals between powerful people. She didn't want to deal with Endbringers or picking up after them. All she wanted to do was go home, hug her mom and hang out with her brother.
She just wanted to be done with today.
Jack Ryan
5:22am
2 Hours, 27 Minutes until reinforcements arrive.
"We have confirmation that there are people trapped in the subway lines in several air pockets. I requested support and in the last forty-five minutes, we've had elements of the 5th and 10th Special Forces Groups arrive in the city. We're going to need their training and expertise in clearing out the subway lines."
He sat back in the chair, soup mug cradled in his hands, looking over the holographic display. He had known that Taylor Hebert had holographic technologies, but he hadn't expected in the span of months she would be fielding something that could provide a battlespace projection.
It was only further confirmation of his opinion that she would need to be protected and nurtured, because if this was the work of only a few months, he could only imagine what it would be in a few years. Especially considering Taylor's own admissions, she was putting a lot of her technology together with 'inferior' materials and workarounds in order to field them now instead of later.
"Is digging equipment an option," he asked, earning a shake of the head from Herres.
"We drill down and the air will rush out, causing the water to rise. If the air pressure is too high, we risk a blowout which will certainly kill everyone we're trying to rescue. We wait too long and they'll die from hypoxia, or hypothermia, or the currents will overwhelm them with the new rain. We've got every civil engineer we can find along with plenty of hands working to clear out the storm drains, but it's slow going. The darkness and the weather aren't helping."
Taking another slow sip, he once again considered the holographic map of Boston. Shades of red and yellow dotted the holoscape, representing damaged areas and cleared roads respectively. Pins highlighted critical locations like emergency shelters, mustering areas, storage yards, and more.
"What's the local response been like?"
"We've had a steady flow of volunteers coming in, civilians and capes, surprisingly. Mostly we've been able to intercept them at the city border and direct them where they are needed, with a few caveats that are still awaiting my decision. I've been in contact with the state governors of Maine, New York, and Pennsylvania, they're recalling reserves and organizing aid. I'm waiting to hear back from Texas and Florida as well. But even with their assistance, it'll be days before we see any meaningful support. Right now," Herres sighed, the exhaustion obvious in his demeanor, "We're doing the best we can with what we got. Hopefully the first wave of FEMA and disaster relief that the President is sending our way will help stem the tide, because we are balancing everything on a knife's edge at this point, and all it will need is one thing going wrong to wipe away all of our effort at maintaining the peace."
"Are you going to be able to handle the influx," he asked, his eyes shifting over to where Logan was located. Large swathes of that location were red, but interspersed in that were yellow, and surprisingly…green.
"The airfields at Logan are cleared according to the latest reports I have. The facilities are a writeoff, but we've been able to establish an ad-hoc staging and dispersal hub there. The roads are cleared and the trucks are standing by for loading. The Harbor is still a mess, but we've been able to get the Kidd to make it to dock. The Navy is several hours behind, but we should have enough time to solve the harbor issue if the capes that have come in can be utilized."
"What's the problem with them?
Herres sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"The issue is the political ramifications. The majority of capes that have arrived? They are from the Empire Eighty-Eight."
"Great, just what we need! The Führer Fanclub coming to save the day," he resisted the urge to massage his brow, understanding exactly the dilemma facing Herres perfectly. It was a situation where if he utilized the Nazi-sympathizing capes, it would create bad optics for quite a lot of people, especially when the Colonel was already going to be facing an uphill battle once things were done. But on the other hand, if he didn't utilize them, what would that cost them in lives saved?
It was a shitty situation to save the least. With pros and cons going both ways. But at the end of the day, it would have to be a decision made by Herres himself. He could advise the Colonel, but he could not make the decision for him.
Still, it would probably be best for him to at least offer him a sounding board.
"What are you thinking, Colonel?"
"I think I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't, Mister Vice President," Herres finally said after a brief pause, "Kaiser chose probably the best people he could to help with search and rescue. All of them had a legitimate use, and they can actually speed up the process. It's just the fact that I damn well know what the reaction is going to be, and that these people are going to use it for propaganda value."
"But…"
"But I made a pledge to save lives," Herres released a sigh, "and frankly, I've already pretty much declared to hell with the politics by taking control of the situation. So, what's one more instance of thumbing my nose? I can use the Endbringer Truce to utilize them. And if they cause problems, then I'll crush them under those same rules. Simple as that. Besides," his lips twitched in momentary amusement, "it's probably gonna piss them off that they are going to have to take orders from a black man."
He snorted. Yeah, that would probably rile up quite a few of them. But the reality that they both likely knew was that as amusing as prospect it would be, it would likely still amount in a net negative politically. Still, throwing away lives for callous political calculation was not something he, nor apparently Herres, would accept.
Drinking from his soup now that it had cooled slightly, he gestured with his mug to the holoprojector.
"And the tech? Zero Dawn and its little inventor."
Herres actually scowled for the first time.
"The tech's been an absolute godsend. Her focus devices are simplistic and easy to use, and the system it runs on is damn near perfect for entering, tracking, and displaying data. The Machines are exactly as she advertised, too. They are sturdy, respond well to commands, make smart decisions if left on their own, and while they have been banged up a bit, they haven't broken down. The Blaze fuel may not work in our vehicles, but it burns nicely. Heating, cooking, and signal fires are all currently being done with Blaze."
The Colonel then rose, folding his arms. "The largest problem with the tech? It's the one that is running it. The girl…"
"How is Miss Hebert?"
"Stable and resting. A cape healer that calls herself Panacea got hands on her in under a minute and confirmed that no permanent damage was done. The girl also swore like a Marine and said that, and I quote, "I've seen healthier forty-year-old smokers who work eighty hour weeks."
Herres then sighed heavily, "According to Panacea, it's a miracle that it was just a heart attack; too many stimulants, too little sleep for days, stress, malnutrition, and dehydration are just a few of the things that she diagnosed. The energy drinks that Hebert was tossing back only hastened the collapse. The medics have her hooked up to IV for fluids, and Panacea is making sure that she stays asleep so she can recover. She'll wake up in a day or so, hungry as anything, but it's better than dead. But thankfully her machines and systems work without her, and the team she brought from Brockton Bay included a programmer and technicians. Something breaks, they can fix it."
"Good to hear," he was silent, taking another moment to look over the display, noting how even now it was changing as they spoke, "Now. The elephant in the room."
Herres nodded gravely, "Yes, Sir. Martial Law."
"Exactly. Does the President have the power to declare it? That's going to be argued for months, and more than likely years. But, at the end of the day, it was you that suggested it and acted upon it. You know they are going to crucify you for this. They have to, the fools."
Herres answered him with silence, choosing instead to stare at the holographic display. The only sound that did penetrate the tent they were in were the quiet murmurs of the other staff moving around and talking with one another, and the sounds from outside.
"I was part of Autumn Thunder," the other man spoke finally, "A 15C jock with the 33rd. I had a front seat to how powerless we were in the face of that…thing. Even now, I wonder if I was one of the unlucky ones to survive, or just was unfortunate enough to be one of those damned to watch sixty years of tradition be set aside to rot. But throughout all of that, the uniform still means something. Diminished, maybe, but our oath to defend the people is still in effect. Besides, at least this way we'll have a fighting chance not to surrender another city to those things. This won't be the end of Boston, sir. Not on my watch."
And that was good enough for him. Maybe it was divine providence, but it appeared that somehow, some way, out of all of the men that could have ended up here, it was a good one like Herres. It only made his course going forward all the more important. He wasn't exaggerating what was likely to come next. Herres had done something not done since the Civil War, and there was a reason there were several laws on the books that prevented what Durling and Herres had done.
Yet, in spite of that; They had done it regardless.
Durling was without a doubt done. Even if he survived the likely impeachment that was coming, this was his second term. At least the man had chosen to go out the right way, instead of what too many politicians would have done.
But that still left Herres. The man was going to need as much help as he could, because if the politicians in DC didn't get Durling, they were going to go for the 'weaker' prey in order to make themselves look good, and Herres would make for the perfect patsy. For either party.
He stood, and reached across the table with an open hand. Herres took his hand with a firm shake.
"Thank you for your service, Colonel Herres. You're a credit to the uniform."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, I probably need to get back to DC. I'm no good stuck here. Do you have a Focus you can give me?"
He wasn't shocked at Herres hesitating. The fact of the matter was, the man needed as many of these Focuses as possible for here. To give one away could have a negative impact on the ongoing efforts to save lives. It meant that there would be one person unable to communicate that would previously have had an opportunity to do so.
"I have a strategic reserve of one hundred," Herres started, bowing his head slightly in contemplation, "That is out of the five hundred that Miss Hebert brought with her. But, Mister Vice President, I need more and Zero Dawn doesn't have the money to produce more at this time. Miss Hebert wasn't explicit, but I have a feeling that she may have damaged her position with her investors to pull this off. And I'll need as many Foci as I can get in the days to come. If I send you one, can you take my pleas directly to the President?"
"How much are we talking, Colonel?"
"I don't exactly have a figure, Mister Vice President. But, any money would likely be able to start their production line. These Focuses aren't just a game-changer, they flip the entire table. And not just in disaster relief, but for about every facet of our society. Just speaking for the military, the Pentagon is going to be knocking down Miss Hebert's door once I provide an AAR. A mobile C3I device that has its own datalink system and can sync with an established network, sharing audio, visual, and data securely? The better question to ask is who wouldn't be offering their firstborn for such a device."
While outwardly he reflected a calm visage, internally he was not exactly surprised by the vociferous support of Herres. Just looking at the display told an entire tale of how integral the Focus had been to the success of the initial search and rescue efforts. But the fact that Herres was already looking at the future implications of the technology, well, it certainly added to the meeting he had with Miss Hebert only yesterday.
No, there was no doubt in his mind that Miss Hebert was going to earn a strategic asset designation. If not by the time he arrived at DC, then by the time he met with the President. It would be absolutely incompetent and negligent to the point of possibly being treasonous to do otherwise.
The answer was disturbingly simple for such a complicated request. Because this was going to be akin to pouring molten aluminum down the anthill that had already been kicked over.
"You have my guarantee, Colonel. We're in this together. If anyone gives you any trouble, you call me. We're going to make this a success story, even if I have to sit on the bean counters and dig the skeletons out of the closet myself."
That seemed to relieve the other man, his shoulders sagging just enough to notice, as if some of the burden he was under was taken off his shoulders.
"I'll have one provided and have one of my men walk you through using it. It's surprisingly intuitive and even has its own tutorials for how to wield it. For being so young, Miss Hebert seems to be fairly forward thinking."
"Except in regards to her health."
"Except that," Herres sighed. "What do we do with her?"
That was a complicated question. Especially with the storm that was about to come. He had no doubt in his mind that in addition to the recognition she was about to receive, she was probably going to be the focal point of a lot of politicians, especially of the PRT-bent. But that was in the future, right now there was a different hand that should be applied to her.
"When she wakes up, teach her what you can about delegation! But that aside, I think you are firmly aware of just how vital that girl is going to be, going forward. So I want you to do everything in your power to keep her safe and on friendly terms with the government. That little gadget alone is going to change how we do things," he said sternly, motioning to the holographic display and the information being displayed and updated on it.
"On that we agree, sir."
He then reached and shook the Colonel's hand, his mind already whirling as to what next needed to be done. His return to DC was going to be tumultuous, and every bit was going to be needed in order to skew things in their favor.
So he looked around the room, taking in the various personnel milling about, "Can one of you show me to the medical tent? I need to dress the part."
This earned a raised eyebrow from the Colonel, "Walking wounded?"
He nodded, smiling slightly, "Walking wounded. Nothing like a wounded hero surviving through impossible odds. The press will love it, and hopefully we can elicit enough support to stack the deck in our favor."
Herres chuckled slightly as he ordered someone to lead him to the medical tent. Then Colonel turned back to the table and went back to work as he exited.
7:49 AM
As dawn slowly inched closer, rescue crews were rotated, with food and water being handed out. All the while, the machines of the LRL headed out again and again. They searched through the debris that clogged the roads with a mechanical grace. Watchers shopped around, their heads moving constantly, scanning everything within their gaze. Burrowers scampered over, under, and through buildings, cars, and rubble searching for any sign of people. And they found people, calling back to their human attendants as hundreds were found in need of rescue.
The Scrapper - dog-like thing that it was - often found itself at the vanguard of the pack, using its powerful jaws to cut people free. In other cases, it used its head as a wedge to get into spaces, and lifted debris to free those trapped inside or underneath. The ram-headed Charger often helped to support the weight even as it provided fuel to its herd, and sometimes warmth for those who needed it.
The lumbering Titan, with its massive bulk, cut an intimidating figure to many. But its contribution was unmatched when it came to sheer strength. A photographer would snap the iconic image of the Titan yoked to a flatbed, hauling supplies behind it like the sturdy beast that it was modeled after.
And they didn't stop, moving only deeper into the city. People called down from rooftops and windows. Cape teams flew across the sky directing survivors to shelters set up to receive them. Time and time again, the machines proved their worth in silence. Cars and debris stood no chance against the Titan as it cleared the road. The Scrappers' grinders tore through fallen beams, telephone poles, broken doors, and more to get access to survivors. Burrowers and Watchers kept up a frenetic and desperate pace, checking every inch of Boston for more people in need of rescue.
Throughout it all, it was the humans that fell behind, as the work intensified and they wore out from exhaustion. Not that the machines escaped unharmed. The Scrapper lunged and covered a survivor with its body when a ceiling collapsed unexpectedly. The Titan's previously pristine white armor now bore scrapes and drag marks from pressing up against stone and concrete, keeping buildings from collapsing. A Burrower suffered optic damage when it jumped into a fire, looking for a shut off valve to a gas line. But still they continue inexorably forward. And to the cold, the frightened, the lost, and the wounded of Boston, the first sign of hope they saw was a warm, blue glow of the Light Rescue Lance headed their way, with human companions following closely behind them.
Somehow, word of the machines spread amongst both the rescuers and the rescued, becoming a point of unity. The refugee camp buzzed with news, as each new rescue came in. Of how the Titan stood against raging waters and carried people to safety. How the Scrapper would nudge its head against tired rescuers, seemingly to offer comfort. How the perky Burrowers would roll and play in the shallows, but always returned to work.
Unfortunately, not every story ended happily. And as time marched on, the attrition slowly built as the Machines were called to do more and more things that they were never initially envisioned to do in this build. Taylor had to cut corners in their design in order to meet the deadline, and it showed in the materials used in the design, far below the spec for the finalized product that she envisioned. Armor plating broke, optics cracked and degraded, rotors strained from wear and tear as tolerances were continuously exceeded, and electronics inevitably faltered as their load limits were challenged. But this truth was known only to a select few. To the people of Boston, the machines' perseverance was a comfort. And as dawn finally peaked over the horizon, the near silence was broken by the droning of large and powerful engines as heavy aircraft began their approach for landing at Logan. And as the first C-5 Galaxy landed, the people of Boston held one truth close to their hearts even in the desperation of the situation.
In the darkness of the previous night, hope was a shining blue light.
Anyways, enough on the spiel. I know there is a sidestory chapter coming, not sure on the timeline yet, still working it out with others. Hopefully with the next two days off soon, we can iron out the details and release it.
Sprout 3.1 Part 3
Taylor
7:09pm
"So all of these machines run off combustion engines? Is fuel going to be a problem? What is their operational duration?" Lieutenant Adams peppered me with questions as we walked around the LRL. I was using the time to once again review their status, ensuring that everything was ready to go.
I cast a surreptitious glance towards Colonel Herres who was currently speaking in low tones on the Focus that I had given him. It took every fiber of my being not to tap into the datastream and listen into the conversation. As much as I wanted to know what exactly was being said, I also knew that it would be a drastic breach of the tenuous trust I had already established with the Colonel for relatively little gain. I found myself frowning as once again a fault occurred with Burrower Number One, again in the main processor. It wasn't a major fault and it wouldn't impact overall performance, but it was strange in that every time I tried to clear it, it came back.
Making a mental note to explore it once I returned to Brockton, I continued to answer Lieutenant Adams.
"I use a special fuel mixture that I've developed called Blaze. It's a bit grandiose for a name I'll admit, but it does live up to it. It burns stronger and longer than anything currently on the market. And the best part of it all, it's not based on petroleum," I then went on to explain that the Charger and Titan worked in conjunction to produce Blaze from any organic material. I made sure to offer the same assurance that I had given to Vice President Ryan. All the while, the itch to send my machines to work continued to grow.
We shouldn't even be here. We should be putting together a plan of what exactly needs to be done using the tools that we had to save lives. Instead, Herres had to talk with his superiors. Blasted hierarchy systems!
It probably didn't help my mood that I had met my childhood hero and found her extremely disappointing. I had honestly expected more from Alexandria, she should have been at the forefront of saving as many lives as possible. Instead, Alexandria seemed to want to obstruct what I was trying to do! Add to it all, the female member of the Triumvirate was currently hovering nearby, her gaze having not left me since Herres had taken the Focus.
Not to mention how odd she was when my Focus attempted to scan her. All that I was fed through it was a person-shaped void that hung in the air. I could hear what she said, I could pick up the details of her outfit… but her body? It was blank, to both the Ash Nazg and the Focus that Lieutenant Adams was now carrying. It was a problem that I was going to have to work on in future development, but it clearly pointed to the fact that Capes were weird.
"Miss Hebert," Herres had come back from his conversation, "Does this device have a speaker? My superiors need to make an address."
"Not through the device itself, but I can route it through the Titan," I responded, already bringing up the Titan, and adjusted a few settings. The Titan was meant to be the heart of the LRL, so I had included several systems designed for crowd control and communication, so it wasn't that difficult to link Herres' Focus to the Titan. I considered briefly for a moment to activate the holoprojector that was installed on the Titan, but then discarded it. The datastream was all audio, and it would likely only confuse people.
"It's ready," I declared.
Herres nodded, before saying words that caused me to momentarily freeze, "You're on, Mister President."
What?!
"My fellow Americans and every citizen of the world who attended to the defense of Boston. This is President Durling. I am speaking to you from the White House, where my advisors and I have been working to get as much aid headed to you as humanly possible. But the current reality is harsh and we must make harsh decisions in light of that."
After my brief freeze, I immediately reconsidered my previous stance, instead accessing the system, all the while splicing a series of images together. In only a few moments, I had been able to put up a decent image of a photo of President Durling, with the presidential seal hanging under the image. As I was doing this, I was also enabling text-to-speech, enlarging a bubble so people in the distance who may not be able to clearly hear, could still see what was being said. People gathered around, pressing closer to hear. A few fliers hovered overhead.
"Due to the devastation around Boston and the aftereffects of Leviathan's attack, only limited aid will be able to reach you within the next twelve hours. Within twenty-four hours, the full resources of the United States and whatever allies answer the call will be at your doorstep. Until then, hold strong, and do everything you can to save as many lives as possible."
"In light of the loss of the governor and the entire line of succession of the State of Massachusetts, I am now forced to use powers no President has wielded since the civil war reconstruction era. Per Disaster Plan Snow, organized by the Pentagon, I am hereby placing the City of Boston and its surrounding areas under Martial Law. Every federal and local agency will answer to the military command of the area until elections can be organized."
I blinked, not quite believing what I heard, but then after quickly reviewing it through the text-to-speech, I realized that no, it was not a hallucination.
"Colonel Herres, your orders are simple to say, but monumental in their impact. Save everyone that you can. Secure and restore accessibility to Boston Harbor and Logan International Airport. Maintain Order. And rescue Vice President Ryan. Help is coming and the entire efforts of the country are focused on Boston. So hold the line until help arrives. Godspeed, and good luck to each and everyone of you."
I numbly noted the dead silence as the link ended. What Durling was doing was something that had not been done since the Civil War, and here we were standing at ground zero of it all.
"Alright," Herres' voice sounded through the Titan for all to hear, "we're all on the clock now. It has been six hours since Leviathan was pushed back. Night is about to fall, temperatures are going to drop, and we've got a lot of people who need our help. If you can't stay, then make yourself scarce. If you're staying, find someone you can partner with. Capes, that means someone who complements your skills and abilities. When you are done, report to Lieutenant Adams, who will record this. Legend and Alexandria, I want to talk with you. The rest of you, no more running off and doing things on your own. We need to coordinate all our efforts; it's how we are going to save lives. Let's get to it!"
He then turned to me, "Miss Hebert, with me."
I nodded, before falling in line and following him as he moved towards the tent. I idly noted that Legend and Alexandria were getting somewhat heated in an exchange, but from Legend's reactions, he didn't seem to agree with what Alexandria was saying. Alexandria seemed to realize this, as after a moment she nodded to Legend, and they both turned and headed in Herres' direction.
As we entered the tent, I found myself confused as I spotted a group of politicians that were glaring at each other. What were they doing, and why were they even here to begin with?
"Lieutenant Adams," Herres' voice rang out, "Please have Airmen Chalmers and Youst join us."
One of the politicians seemed to notice our presence as he turned to us, "Colonel Herres, what are you-"
He trailed off as the flap opened, and I found myself stepping aside as a pair of airmen with rifles stepped into the tent.
"Gentlemen, President Durling has declared martial law for the City of Boston and its surrounding municipalities. Until further notice, I have been placed in charge of all matters pertaining to rescue and assistance. Now, I'm going to politely ask you to leave."
"What do you think you are doing, Herres," one of them snarled.
"I'm following my commander-in-chief's orders, Senator Furnham," Herres responded, his head moving to scan over the other politicians, "since there is no line of succession and you have all spent nearly three hours arguing who should be in charge, the President has been forced to take extreme measures in order to save American lives."
"That's illegal."
"That's for the courts to decide, Judge Reingold. Until ordered otherwise, this is now my operation. Now, I will ask one more time, then I will have you forcibly ejected, leave!"
"Legend, you are the leader of the Protectorate-"
"I'm sorry, but the President has made it clear who is in charge, Senator," Legend surprisingly shook his head, "if you hadn't been too busy arguing, you may have heard the announcement from the President himself."
They obviously were not expecting such a response from Legend, though why they would think that a federal officer would actively undermine the President escaped me. They stood there, obviously calculating just what their options were, but finally, after another moment, it was Judge Reingold that first moved, getting up from a chair and walking towards them.
He stopped, his eyes coming to rest upon me, his eyes blinking as if surprised to see me. Then he scoffed, moving past them and heading out of the tent.
Realizing that their cause was obviously lost, despite the fact that they were opposing sides, they slowly followed after the Judge, offering barely any opposition in the face of futility.
Then we were then left alone, just the five of us. Herres walked to a map that was sitting on the table, and turned to look at us.
"Legend, Alexandria, and Miss Hebert, I'm going to be relying upon the three of you quite heavily in the days going forward. So, I'm going to cut to the chase. Whatever differences currently exist between the Protectorate, PRT, and you, Miss Hebert, are irrelevant in the face of my orders. If any of you have a problem with that then voice your objections now, because as soon as we start getting to work, I expect your total focus on the job."
I glanced over at Alexandria's… void. If my Focus couldn't give me data, then judging her thoughts was impossible. But I didn't hear any fabric moving, so I'm assuming that she wasn't moving. Honestly, the Protectorate and PRT had become an afterthought up until Alexandria's sudden accusation. I just didn't really care. I was building far too much momentum, especially with the sudden interest of the Vice President, to really be bothered by whatever they were doing.
Taking the silence as acquiescence, Herres nodded, "Well then, let's get to work on saving lives. Miss Hebert, do you have any other tricks up your sleeve to assist?"
I blinked at the sudden non sequitur, before I quickly recovered, "Yes. One moment," I responded, even as I accessed Charger One, tasking it to approach the tent, bringing my laptop and its accessories stored in its saddlebag. I noted through its vision the sudden tension at the sight of the large machine approaching, but nobody did anything as I stepped out of the tent and proceeded to dig into the saddlebag, retrieving my laptop and turning back into the tent. I retasked the Charger to return back to its holding position, even as I placed my laptop down on the table over the map and linked it into the platform that I pulled from the bag.
"If I may," I asked as I looked to Herres, who gave me a nod. I stepped back, sending a nudge through my link even as I accessed the laptop and platform, watching as the data began to be shared and projected through the device. It brought up a map of Boston that laid flat only a few inches over the projector and laptop, "this is an interactive reconstruction of Boston and surrounding areas, using data collated from search engines, government websites, and other sources."
I then accessed a file, and I watched through the Focus as another overlay was placed over Boston, this time a deep shade of red ate into the city, consuming the beachfront, and all of the waterfront, before spearing into downtown and further beyond.
"This is Scenario Boston-Theta, based upon simulations I had run over the last month," I announced, knowing I was probably stepping too far, but I had a feeling that this was the likely path and angle of attack that Leviathan had taken based upon what few reports I had been able to glean. All of this had been simulated by Sobek as further learning, but they didn't need to know about that. Nor did they need to know that I had hundreds of different simulations for cities up and down the eastern seaboard.
I had a feeling that I was right based upon how Alexandria and Legend were staring at me. Herres on the other hand, was simply staring at the map, his thoughts as inscrutable as his expression.
"Alexandria," he finally said, "is this an accurate summation of areas directly affected by Leviathan's attack?"
"It is. Though," she stepped forward running her finger a little below the northern border of the estimated damage of the scenario, a bright blue line remaining in place where she touched the map, "the extent of the damage to the north only extends this far. Also, Fenway Park appeared to be still intact upon initial pass, albeit flooded at the moment."
"What's the extent of damage at Logan and the debris in the bay?"
"On my last pass, what is left of Logan is currently on fire in several sections, likely due to the destroyed aircraft and spilled jet fuel. The Bay is currently a mess at the moment, there is currently too much debris to safely traverse it."
That fit with the scenario, I thought morbidly, even as Herres stared at the displayed map. As he did that, I adjusted the map to reflect Alexandria's damage assessment. I considered adjusting the look of downtown, but honestly, until I had imagery of the area it was probably unwise.
"How many Foci have you brought, Miss Hebert?"
"Five hundred, excluding my personal model and the model my father has," I answered automatically.
"How many can you produce and ship here in a reasonable time frame?"
"Realistically? Maybe another one to two hundred every three to four days if we really push it, but the issue I'm running into is that I've tapped out Zero Dawn's startup funds and my people are already exhausted. I have my Vice President reaching out to one of our original investors to see if we can get more funds, but she's doubtful we will get anything," I hesitated, "my other investor was at ground zero of Leviathan's attack."
"So production comes down to money," Herres asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction.
"All my people know what I've been spending money on, and they were hired exactly because they believe in the cause. They'll work if I ask them to. But noble causes don't put food on the table, and it doesn't buy me the materials that I need to make my devices." I shrugged, refusing to be cowed. "I am not proud of admitting it, but I've stretched my company too thin, too quickly, Colonel. The money that I have left is meant to keep the lights until the first large contracts bear fruit."
"Alright then, we work with what we have for now. I'll see about getting you additional funding. You said you ran simulations? How in depth are we talking, and how good was your computer?"
"My computer is top-of-the-line and the simulations were very thorough."
"So you have suggestions on next actions?"
I briefly hesitated. I was not afraid of making suggestions, but even I wasn't so obtuse to not recognize that I was technically stepping into a situation I had neither the experience or expertise in. I had done research, I had dumped quite a bit of effort in my downtime to learn as much as I could, but it wasn't something that I could legitimately sit here and claim I was the foremost expert.
But on the other hand, he was asking for my honest opinion and lives were on the line.
"Yes," I finally answered, girding myself for treading deeper into the waters.
Herres nod of approval buoyed me as he crossed his arms, "Alright, walk me through it. Quickly."
I cast a quick glance to the other pair but they kept their peace, choosing instead to watch me intently. Taking a deep breath, I began to manipulate the display, even as I tapped into the confidence that I previously had shown.
"Colonel, we need three things right now: Shelter, food, and storage for the dead."
I paused as a few men shuffled into the tent, setting up tables and placing maps of the local area down. I took a few moments pause to further organize my thoughts.
"Endbringer shelters are not meant for comfortable habitation longer than forty-eight hours. We need a clear location for people to gather, " I highlighted three locations on the map, placed north, west, and south of the downtown area. "I would suggest moving to the main campus at Boston College and using it as the central hub for disaster relief and operations. There is enough space to handle a large influx of people, and if power can be restored, it has the facilities to further coordinate everything. As for secondary command centers, I would suggest using campuses of Tufts University to the north, and Milton Academy to the south."
I then proceeded to highlight several locations, making sure that all of them were outside of the disaster zone.
"We then need to utilize every undamaged recreation center and hotel for shelter, prioritizing families - especially those with small children - and the elderly for these locations. Everyone else can be placed in tents placed on open fields and in stadiums. After that, we need to track down as many city engineers and water treatment specialists as we can; the water system is either contaminated with saltwater brought in by Leviathan, or broken because of the fighting. We need to do a damage assessment and get an estimate on how long it will take us to at least restore running water. The same goes with sewage, we need to get that contained as quickly as possible or disease is going to skyrocket."
Taking a deep breath, noting I hadn't been interrupted once, I decided to keep going. If they had an alternative, then they would likely interrupt me.
"Food is the next critical thing. We are going to need runners or fliers to find every grocery store or supermarket in the local area. Then we'll need to send trucks and other assets to go there and grab everything they can. Start with fresh foods. We're going to have to host one of the largest barbecues anyone has ever seen."
"This hardly seems like the time, Miss Hebert," Legend interjected in a neutral tone, causing me to frown before I looked at him.
"As the old saying goes, civilization is only four square meals from being cast aside. I'd rather not have Boston become confirmation of that. There is enough food in the city to feed every resident the minimum healthy caloric intake for three days. But without power and the ability to preserve this food, it is going to go bad within twenty-four hours. Cooking it now preserves a lot of it and reduces locations that could be looted, and most importantly," I allowed myself to pan my gaze over the room, making sure to keep my head held high, "it keeps people busy. Busy means people are too distracted to have the time to panic, start trouble, or break down over loss. We have to keep people moving and give them purpose to avoid this event as long as possible. It doesn't matter what they are doing, as long as we keep them active and their activities have or appear to have a point, we buy more time before the inevitable crash."
"Furthermore, with the temperature dropping, having hot food will help keep morale up. And we can keep rescue work going without distractions," Legend was nodding consideringly now, watching as notes and icons appeared on the floating map, Sobek quietly picking up some of the slack for me.
Thank you, Sobek, I sent a quiet message through the link, wondering if Sobek was self-aware enough yet to recognize my gratefulness. It would probably be years until that point, until we truly would be able to actually confer with one another, but it was the thought that counted in my mind.
Colonel Herres seemed to agree with his own nod, "Make them too tired or busy to complain. I like it. And the rest?"
This was the part I really didn't want to discuss, but I knew that I had to regardless. Even if the fact that it was distasteful because it was a reflection of failures not of my own, but a failure nonetheless.
"Find the nearest ice rinks. If the cooling is safe and working, they will serve as the morgue for now. We'll start," I hesitated again, before forcing myself to continue, "... we'll catalogue the dead there. Identify them if possible, comparing them to public records once we have access so we can inform the next of kin."
Quickly transitioning away from the morbid subject, I adjusted the map again, looking to change back to something more my comfort, "We're going to need to start stockpiling organic material. Spoiled food from the supermarkets should be the initial focus; after that, trees, branches, and large piles of leaves."
"I understand the need for wood for fuel. But why would we be collecting food waste?"
"Because food waste would require the least amount of time and energy to process into Blaze," I glanced up from the map, locking Herres under my gaze, "without Blaze, the LRL will be unable to operate, and there are no substitutes available. Blaze can be processed from other organic material, but the 'softer' it is the better."
I waved my hand over the map, and dozens of dots appeared over the map, highlighting large grocery stores, "Currently, the LRL has enough fuel for operation for seven days, once the trucks get here, but if we can get the Charger to work immediately, we can build a large enough stockpile to then use it for other means, like fuel for cooking or just fires for warmth."
"That has the potential to be extremely hazardous, Alloy. Humans are organic afterall," Alexandria spoke up, her tone neutral, but I could almost taste the challenge in her tone. I turned my head toward her, making sure that I nonverbally conveyed my annoyance at not only the power play, but the fact that I was being forced to look at the void again.
"That is why there are several safeguards in the programming to prevent such an occurrence," I returned, keeping my tone as tight as possible, but I knew it would be obvious to everyone else I was irritated with her. "It's hard-coded into them to ignore anything matching a human signature or biological makeup. The only way to override it is to physically hack the machine directly, wipe, and then reprogram it. I'm an engineer, Alexandria, not a Tinker on a power trip. I take appropriate precautions and I know my product intimately."
"Enough, Alexandria," Legend's voice cut off whatever retort Alexandria had ready, and both of our heads snapped to the leader of the Protectorate who looked none-too-pleased, though I was unsure if it was the fact that he was overriding his second-in-command, or the fact that he was siding with me, "Miss Hebert, please continue."
I didn't feel a bit of petty victory, I swear, because I immediately continued with barely an acknowledgement to the head of the Protectorate, "Once we are able to organize our efforts, we need to put some effort into clearing the roads into and out of the city. The reason for this is two-fold. With the roads cleared, those who can leave will take the opportunity, which reduces the overall logistical burden. Also, having clear in and outs lets us track and direct supplies and support that will be coming into the city.."
"We also need to reopen Logan at all costs. It is going to be the keystone for immediate relief. Having semi trailers is good, but we are going to desperately need an airfield for heavy lift capacity, and Logan is our best and only option. If we can operationally restore Logan, we can turn it into the core logistical hub and staging point for the rest of the city."
I took a deep breath and then released it, trying to calm my nerves for what I was going to suggest next. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable with it, I believed that it was a good step forward, but the fact of the matter was, it was revealing yet another card in my deck that I simply hadn't had the time for because I was already stretched so damnably thin.
It certainly also didn't help that so far, Herres was asking for my opinion, and what I was going to say next was certainly not an opinion of diagnosis. For a moment, I thought about not suggesting it, but I was already far too deep than I could have ever imagined. I had figured I would be in the field by now, saving lives, not doing any of this.
Clenching my hands into fists, then releasing them, I reached up, knowing it looked quite weird to those who could not see what I was looking at, and tapped it. Immediately it began downloading from the lab in Brockton Bay, even as I started again.
"Finally, I need a direct line to Dragon."
"Why, Miss Hebert?" Legend asked, and I was grateful for it. I don't know if I would have been able to respond professionally to Alexandria if she had decided to do whatever it was she was angling at. I still didn't understand her animosity towards me. It wasn't like I had ever met her before or had done anything to earn her ire in the first place.
"Dragon is probably the closest that I have to a peer in robotics and technology in North America. She also has a production capacity that frankly dwarfs what Zero Dawn can achieve at this time. If we're going to save Boston, we're going to need her production lines."
"Thank you for your input, Miss Hebert, but let's focus on the immediate problems using what we have at hand," Herres rejected. I bit back a retort, worried that I had overstepped myself, but I seemed to be mistaken as Herres then looked over to Legend.
"Legend, you said your people had already searched some areas?"
The man in blue stepped forward, pointing out several buildings, "Yes, I personally led a team to search what was left of city hall. I believe a second team searched through here," he pointed at another place, and here, "But they have yet to report back. Then we had another team do a quick pass in this area…"
The more Legend spoke, the more I realized just how much coordination was lacking when it came to post-Endbringer response. Search patterns were spotty and uncoordinated, information was unreliable, and reports as a result were inconsistent at best. Is this how an Endbringer fight was done? How did they even survive?! Resisting the urge to sigh and feeling the ever-pressing gaze of Alexandria on me, I continued to update the map as Legend continued speaking.
As Legend began to wrap up his report, I prepared myself for what was going to happen next. Herres was going to make a decision based upon all of the information he had. While I didn't know exactly what he was going to decide, I knew he had no choice but to deploy me. It would be foolish to not use your best search and rescue asset. Already, I was preparing the LRL for deployment, ensuring that all of the units were fully fueled and ready to move at a moment's notice.
I refocused now as Legend finished, Herres' gaze focused upon the holographic map, and I readied for the word to be given.
"Miss Hebert. Are you capable of monitoring all of your Foci in real-time?"
"Yes," I found myself instantly responding, even though I felt a bout of curiosity as to why he would be asking that question. I would have thought it would have been obvious to him, but it was just as likely he was confirming instead of making the assumption.
"Alright." Herres nodded, then his gaze moved to the two Protectorate leaders. "Legend, organize your capes into teams. I need a flight team to head for the Kidd and deliver Focus devices and link them into communication with us. I need Alexandria and a team of Brutes to clear the Harbor enough to bring the Kidd into dock. I need another team to pair up with my men and start heading over to Logan to clear the runways. The facilities come second, but if they need to be destroyed, please clear it with me first. We'll need Movers and Flyers checking the roads in and out of the city and have them report back on any blocked or broken areas. Finally, I need another team of Movers to start spreading the word that we are reorganizing at Boston College, Milton College, and Tufts University."
His initial piece said, Herres then turned to me. "Miss Hebert, I need you to contact your people and tell them to divert to the Boston College campus if they can. If not, then one of the other locations will have to suffice. After that, transfer nominal control of the LRL over to Lieutenant Adams; he will be leading the push into the Downtown area where the Vice President was last reported."
"What," I spoke aloud, not quite believing what I was hearing, but then I realized that I in fact had not misheard him, "No! These are my machines! I know them best! I can help! I came here to help!"
Herres leaned over the table, before looking over the room.
"Legend, Alexandria, go organize your teams. We'll be setting out soon. Everyone else, clear the room. Miss Hebert, please stay."
I clenched my jaw. Clearly, he didn't want any witnesses when he argued with me. It only took a short time, but we were finally alone, with the glowing display of the city resting between the two of us. If I wasn't so angry with the colonel, I'd probably find some sort of symbolism in this.
"Miss Hebert. No," he corrected himself with a shake of the head, "Taylor, I know how you feel. You want to go out there and make a difference, because you believe you alone can solve the issue," he then held up a hand and cut me off before I could offer a rebuttal, "Just, listen to me for a minute, okay?"
I relented, and he took my silence as permission.
"Taylor, let me be clear. In this tent, you are a logistical mastermind and tech expert. But out there? You are a young girl without brute powers who can only see the world as a wireframe. That's a liability. And one of the first things they teach you about search and rescue is that you should never add to the number of people needing help. Your machines are great, a miracle of engineering, really, and I have no doubt they will save many lives. But the issue in all of this is not your machines, but you. There is a saying - infantry wins battles, logistics wins wars. It's a little off the subject matter, but the essence still applies. You can go out there, Taylor, as the infantry, and you can maybe win a few battles here and there, but is it really winning the war?"
I wanted to rage against him, that he was wrong, I wasn't a liability, but I stopped myself, the words sinking in. Just what he was trying to imply, and he didn't stop even as I ran the words over and over in my head.
"And we are fighting a war here, Taylor. And the best thing that you brought with you that could stem the tide of this war, is your Foci and the network they run on. And I need you here, running that network and ensuring that it is maintained so that everyone is able to communicate and know what to do without fail. Because within the next hour, people are going to start showing up and looking to help. They will have the best of intentions, but if they do not know where to go and what to do, how are they going to save lives?"
Damn you. I ground my teeth as I realized exactly what he was building toward. The worst part of it all was that I was finding myself in agreement, even though I tried to poke holes in his argument. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was not only wrong, but he was throwing away lives for his own perceived read… but I couldn't.
"Then, as time goes on, the largest mobilization of men, machines, and supplies are going to hit this city in numbers not seen since Behemoth hit New York. But the longer those people, supplies, and machines stay idle, the more people will suffer."
He motioned to the map that floated before us, only twisting the knife harder into any argument that I could offer.
"The information you can provide is the logistics we need to win this war, Taylor. You can save more lives here, coordinating everything, than you could ever could out in the field with the LRL digging through rubble. Because in my opinion, the LRL is not the machines, they are but one facet to it. No, the true heart of the LRL is everyone linked into the Focus network, guided with purpose and knowledge."
He walked around the table, dropping a hand on my shoulder as my fists shook, my jaw aching from how much I wanted to tell him that he was wrong. But I couldn't. Goddamn him, I just fucking couldn't!
"But you have to choose, Taylor. I can order you, but I would likely be causing more harm than good in the long run. So instead, I'm going to put it to you and tell you that this is what leadership looks like. It's about utilizing the best of people's skills and abilities for a goal. It's about making the hard and sometimes selfless choices. You came here wanting to do the hands-on stuff, but you're more useful as a coordinator and leader. I'll give you a few minutes to decide before we move out, Taylor, but I think you already know what you need to do."
His hand then dropped off my shoulder and he strode past me.
It was as the canvas of the tent rustled back into place behind me as he exited that the dam finally broke, and my fist impacted the table, rattling the laptop and holotablet and causing the map to briefly flicker.
AEH
11:47pm
8hr 2min remaining until reinforcements arrive
The next few hours flew by in a blur of slowly creeping exhaustion mixed with adrenaline. In the end, I had acquiesced to Herres' request. The man had been right, as much as I wanted to deny it. There was no doubt that I could make a larger difference managing the network than I could have possibly done by going out. It still sat poorly with me, but what could I do in lieu of the honest admission.
Instead of raging at the injustice of reality, I chose distraction by burying myself in work. First, preparing for the transfer to the Boston College campus, but then training people in the usage of the Focus. The latter was more taxing than the former, with so many people with different questions and having to basically be a one woman tech support for the device.
I winced as I sipped from a can with a lukewarm energy drink, I refocused on the new task that I had been given. My hands were clammy; the temperature outside was dropping as night wore on, but inside was sweltering with so many people coming and going. Around me dozens of people spoke into radios, worked over maps, made lists on whiteboards and chalkboards that had been rolled into this conference room. In front of me, dominating the table, the holotablet projected a map of Boston. Dozens of icons flashed and updated as data came in and orders went out. Our refugee camps were set up, and slowly taking people in. Large communal kitchens had been set up in sheltered tents, keeping off the slow rain that had started up again. Aid and volunteers were being intercepted at the borders of the city, then being redirected to different parts, keeping the roads clear. The Kidd has safely docked in the Harbor, and was leading rescues on the water and up and down the coast. Dozens of smaller boats, privately owned and commercial, had begun arriving. The Navy was in charge of their organizing and deployment.
I cursed slightly as I missed a key, backspacing a few times and inputting the correct information. I shook my hands out, annoyed at the slight shake that had developed. It would pass.
Logan International was a wreck, but the runway was clear. The teams were working to get the roads into the city in working order, and rig up a rudimentary Radar and Tower Control.
Dad had arrived, and quickly organized most of the city workers he could find. He had them working to get the storm drains and sewer system unblocked. He might not know anything about plumbing, but he did know people and how to put their talents to efficient use. The frantic pace and setting honestly seemed to be doing him some good.
Every single focus I had brought with me was now handed out, some to individuals and some to teams. By the calculations of the professors here at the College, radios should clear up soon, at least enough that the incoming rescue efforts the President promised would be able to use handhelds.
All the while, the data feed from the LRL played in the corner of my vision. Even if I couldn't be there with them, I could still monitor them and ensure that they performed well.
Herres had chosen well, much to my chagrin. Lieutenant Adams was a hard driver, but he was also slow and methodical in how he approached everything. It honestly felt daunting in how well he was controlling the LRL.
I took a breath, annoyed at the pinch in my chest and the exhaustion that battered at my synapses. It was good that I didn't need eyes to see, they would probably be closed with how tired I felt. I reached for my drink. I needed to finish this. A sudden shock ran through me and I could feel my hand spasm, knocking the can over. I stared at it for a brief moment, not quite comprehending what I was witnessing, before my mind caught up and I shot to my feet, intent on cleaning up the mess.
Only, my mind sputtered and hitched at the sudden feeling of light-headedness. That was easy to fix, my foggy mind supplying the answer, and I braced myself against the table. But why was that pinch making it difficult for me to gather enough air to breathe?
As I pondered the reason, my legs gave out from under me and my chin smacked down on the table, momentarily filling my vision with stars.
But strangely, I could still see, even if everything felt like it was covered in a strange film. I had never experimented with how the Focus would translate data if the wearer experienced head trauma. To my surprise, the Focus continued beaming images into my brain despite what happened. Herres stood over me, shouting at the door.
I tried to breathe again, that damnable pinch seeming to mock me further even after it had brought me low. Everything felt so heavy…
Why were we moving? Everything was a blur…
Why were we running…?
Why couldn't I…..
AEH
Crystal Pelham
1:28am
6hr 1 min until reinforcements arrive
Crystal Pelham was no stranger to pain. Cape life wasn't exactly free of scrapes and bruises, but most of the time she didn't hurt for long. It was one of the perks of having the legendary Panacea as a cousin. It had guaranteed her a college life where she didn't have to worry about the blemishes, injuries, and pains that had accumulated in her career as Laserdream.
She had thought that she would have an easier time in retirement! Sure, she'd use her powers to show off a little at parties, but nothing too crazy. Picking a fight with gangbangers was in the past, and most certainly not getting involved in an Endbringer fight.
Which was, of course, the reason why her everything currently hurt!
Without moving too much, she breathed, trying to focus herself and release some tension as…
"Son of a bitch," she snarled, her teeth bared like a feral animal.
The man hummed, but otherwise didn't offer any other comment as he expertly tied and tightened the tourniquet on her leg with the casual ease of someone almost too familiar with the task. She really wanted to hit him, but that would probably be unwise. After all, while striking the Vice President for his poor bedside manner might be warranted, she doubted the authorities would take exception once they got out of there.
If we get out of here. She quickly quelled that errant thought. She refused to think like that, not after everything so far.
Instead she adjusted her arm, the numbness receding back into a dull and throbbing ache. She hadn't been able to move her arm much in the hours since they had been trapped here. The small shield that she had manifested and now maintained was their only buttress against the support that threatened to give away and crush them, and also served as the only light source within their little alcove.
"All done, Miss Pelham. Don't worry, you'll be back on those pretty legs of yours in no time."
"Normally, that would be good to hear," she quipped with a smile, the levity serving as a distraction from their plight. Though, in the end it failed, as the dust on her lips slipped past the cracks. "But I'm not sure how I should feel about a politician of your stature making such remarks about my legs. Especially considering your predecessor."
Ryan chuckled as he shuffled back, leaning his back against a collapsed beam, "Hey, I'd like to think I'm a step above the former Vice President Matthews. I'm in the prime of life," he then leaned slightly forward, as if he was going to share a secret, "And I'm certainly better looking."
Despite the absurdity of the fact that she had the Vice President trying to act suave to someone half his age, she found herself laughing, which caused her to hiss as her ribs protested at the action. She ignored the wet feeling soaking her jeans. It was just water.
"While you may find this amusing, do remember to keep calm. Aim to conserve oxygen."
She resisted the urge to sigh as she was reminded that they were not alone. And of course, their accompaniment would be their actual downer of it all. She turned her head slightly over her shoulder, shifting her fist to brighten the other half of this little crawl space. She had to admit, it hurt to see such a nicely cut suit in such a sorry state of disrepair. On the plus side, at least it was an inconvenience to the unrepentant villain, if only monetarily.
It was like the start of a bad joke, a hero, a super villain, and the Vice President of the United States trapped in the collapsed remnants of a business hall. She wasn't sure what the build-up would be, but she knew that the punchline was going to be killer. At least she'd have something to joke about at parties when she got out of her.
If I get out of here, that damnable killjoy whispered in her head. No, I'm going to get out of here!
"The human desire for companionship is a strange and powerful thing, Mr. Accord. After all it led you to me, instead of seeking shelter during an Endbringer attack."
A soft click of the tongue came from Accord, as his attention refocused away from her and back to him. It was strange, yet no surprise, that the turning gears on his mask were now dead, having been choked to death by the dust and debris, "Pure self-interest," the villain retorted. "On multiple levels, saving you was the most efficacious path forward."
"I think Miss Pelham here had a big part to play in things."
Accord glanced at her, mouth twisting in distaste, before he quickly dismissed her to her irritation as he looked back to Ryan, "She contributed, but she was also a detriment. It would have been less complicated if she hadn't thrown too many random variables in the mix."
"Those random variables," she hissed, "are called people! You don't get to just write off dozens of lives simply because they are inconvenient!"
Because that was the thing. Even with the three of them trapped in this little bubble of wreckage, there were others who had been less fortunate. Some of them they could still hear from time to time, plaintively crying out for help; sometimes when it was really quiet, they could hear whispered prayers. But then there were others that were not even answering anymore.
"Miss Pelham. Contrary to what most Hallmark cards will tell you… not everyone matters. It's a simple fact that their positions, their actions and ambitions, and even their birth, will deny them the opportunity to ever have the chance of influencing the people and world around them. They will live out their lives, content with their simplistic dullness. But the world? It's made up of complex systems, and there are people who exist as levers to wield those systems. The Vice President here is an accomplished statesman and high official. Though his words and actions alone, the fates of nations can change. So yes, he is more important than them, than you, or even myself."
She may not fight anymore, but she remembered her mom's stories. About how there were different kinds of villains. Some were desperate. Others were out for the thrill of it. But of all villains, the worst were the true believers. The ones with a cause. She had never really understood why that was until now, staring into those cold eyes as this man calmly explained why people didn't matter. It was good that Ryan chose to speak up at that moment, because she wasn't sure what to say, or even, what she may do otherwise.
"And you're looking to influence what exactly? This plan does seem to carry an element of risk. It's not everyday that willfully getting a building dropped on yourself is considered a good option."
She grimaced at the flash of the memory of the desperate attempt to escape Leviathan's devastation. Of the alarms blaring and people rushing about without a clue of what to do. Not even herself. Then her arm being grabbed and she was pulled along after Boston's preeminent crime lord. Then being told to follow him even as walls began collapsing and pillars gave way as they moved. Accord shouting at Ryan, even as his security detail tried to evacuate him. Herself shouting for people to follow closely, all the while Accord was shouting at her, and Ryan shouting at Accord as she blasted a path with her lasers.
Then hearing the groan as the building came down around them, leaving her to wonder if she would live to see her mom again.
"A gesture of trust. I would hope by doing this, you would consider me truthful when I give you certain information."
Ryan waved a hand, and she transferred her shield to the other arm, ignoring the growing pressure behind her eyes. She had never held a shield up for so long before, and it was slowly becoming an increasingly unpleasant strain.
"No time like the present. Secrets shared in a foxhole and all that."
The resultant glance at her caused her to quickly realize that whatever Accord wanted to share was not something he wanted people to know. Well, that was too bad for him, because as soon as she got out of her, she would make it a point of sharing it.
If you get out of here, that traitorous voice whispered in her head, making her want to scream.
There must have been some sort of unspoken message exchanged between the two men, as Accord seemed to decide to ignore her once again. Whatever it was, it was making him talk.
"It is my understanding that you met recently with a promising young woman. One who might have a significant impact upon the world in the future. I wish to make it clear that when I was originally approached for funding, it was under my civilian persona and done strictly in a business capacity. I was the investor with no interest beyond seeing a return upon my investment."
"Understandable. The fact remains that it was a significant investment, one that will naturally attract further scrutiny as her star rises. Especially as your investment has only grown since. Clearly your goals have changed. What brought this on?"
Accord cocked his head to the side, "You could say that I fell in love."
"I would remind you, sir, that the girl in question is fifteen." Ryan's voice grew deadly quiet, and Crystal shivered at the implicit threat that lurked within that simple sentence and tone.
"Spare me your condemnation. I have never been interested in the biological attraction that fascinates so many people. No, what I came to admire was her vision. Tell me honestly, how many people do you believe could fulfill the promise for the new world that she envisions and is striving towards?"
Before she realized what she was doing, because this was getting a little too weird for her tastes, she threw her own two cents into the mix.
"You know, when people start talking about things like 'new world' and 'vision', nothing good usually comes from it. The Eighty-Eight crazies from my hometown come first to mind."
The disapproving look that she garnered from Accord made her wilt slightly. How a villain of all things could suddenly make her feel like she was an idiot child eluded her, but the feeling still remained the same. Carol could take points from him.
"You will find in history, Miss Pelham, that change always comes to the detriment of someone else. Whether it be those that cling to the comfort of the status quo, or those who simply are unfortunate enough to be in the way of progress. But, like treating any wound or infection, sometimes the pain wrought by change is necessary to feel better afterwards."
She couldn't help but feel sick. There was truth in what he was saying, and no matter how much she wanted to deny it, he had hit a chord within her. Whether he knew it or not, his statement hit too closely to the New Wave's reality. She wasn't old enough to have been part of its initial rise, but she unfortunately knew why the Brockton Bay Brigade became New Wave. It had been a sobering experience to know the actual truth, and it had only helped to assist her in making the decision to leave New Wave and attend college instead of staying.
Luckily for her, Ryan decided to respond to Accord, saving her from either having to offer an answer or admit that Accord was right.
"It would be safe to assume then, that you plan to continue supporting her and her endeavors?"
The villain shifted, taking the time to wipe his sleeves off in a futile attempt to clean them.
"Yes, I do. While my assets have certainly become diminished given the likely state of Boston, they are not exhausted. I will rally what I can, along with the allies that I can muster, and devote everything possible to ensuring that she succeeds. In fact, just prior to this debacle, I learned that there is a new threat that is poised to possibly threaten her goals."
"It seems we may have a common thread then, Accord. Perhaps we can talk further in the future, I would be curious to know more."
What the actual fuck?!
"Maybe we shall," her head spun at what she was hearing. Who was it that the Vice President and Accord were talking about? Who was so important in their opinion that they would be conspiring to support? And who was it that wanted to change the world…presumably in ways that were painful, disruptive, dangerous, or some combination of all three.
She may be out of the loop on the cape side of things, but even then, if there was someone who was that powerful and important, then she should have heard of them. But there was absolutely no one who came to mind who would cause these two men to work together.
"Who the hell are you talking about," she demanded.
Both men turned their heads toward her, and she felt suddenly she was ill-equipped for the situation, even if she was the one literally keeping them all alive. They then exchanged a look between the two, and Ryan merely shrugged his shoulders, and she had the gut feeling that the message exchanged was one that already dug her in deeper than she could ever imagine.
"I am rather surprised you don't already know her by now, Miss Pelham," Ryan said, "after all, the young woman in question is from Brockton Bay."
But before she could ask anything further, a sound caused them all to freeze. For a brief moment, she was wondering if it wasn't a collective hallucination brought on by the slowly diminishing oxygen supply. But then it came again, only it was different from the creaks and groans that had been their accompaniment for hours, a sound of metal scraping over concrete.
A slight rumble sounded again, as something moved amongst the concrete. She tensed, ignoring the twinges of pain that shot through her body as she prepared for whatever it was. Because the sound was getting closer and more clear, a methodical grinding sound mixed with metallic scraping.
Finally the sound was near enough it was harsh on her ears. With a dull roar, a metallic head pushed its way through the concrete, ballooning dust into their chamber. She winced as rock splinters pinged against her shield, only adding to her pangs of pain. But as the dust cleared, she got her first look at whatever it was that had done what it did.
Blue lights glared in the darkness, but it was subdued enough for her to make out a metallic face. Only it wasn't a human face. It did not have a mouth, instead with a long vertical blue light bar running down the middle of the face, with a pair of blue 'eyes' on either side of the bar. Three grinding rotors snapped back, clearing the machine's field of view. It perked its head up, looking at her, before then scanning around the room. It then released digital noise that sounded almost like a warble, before it suddenly pulled itself out of the hole and clambered into their chamber, the damn thing chittering excitedly now.
It was then that she got a good look at the machine; her hand twitched with the urge to do something about the machine as it warbled again and stamped its two front feet back and forth in what she could only swear was glee. It had a long ferret-like body with sharp claws and a tail, its head bobbing and weaving as it looked between them all again, before it refocused upon her.
It then scampered over to her.
"Hey!"
But before she could say anything more, it looked intently at her injured leg before laying its metallica head on her uninjured leg. It twisted slightly, turning its optics to stare up at her with its tail thumping back and forth on the ground.
"A very promising young woman indeed," Accord commented silently, even as she stared at the machine that did everything in its power to look adorable. Releasing a sigh, she gave into the temptation, using her free hand to pat the strangely lifelike machine on the head, making sure to keep her hand away from the grinders. In response, its tail thumped harder and it seemed to shiver up and down its frame.
"Well," Ryan mused, dusting himself off and slowly getting to his feet, "it seems we're going to be rescued sooner rather than later."
He was proven to be right. Within moments thereafter, the strange machine raced back into the hole it had made, and they could hear commotion coming their way. Debris being shifted, rescuers calling out, and the sound of cutting and grinding as obstacles were removed. The entire time she kept her shield up, the pounding behind her eyes firmly ignored now that the rescue was so close.
Soon they were brought out, men and women stained with dirt, caked in dust, and with great smiles of relief on their faces as they were gently led through the maze of collapsed rubble. It was cold, with rain having turned the ground into a muddy morass. Yet to her, it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.
She found herself helped into a waiting tent, where a man quickly and efficiently cleaned and bandaged up her leg. With the strain of her plight ending, she could feel herself drifting off.
Only for that to end as Ryan walked in, soldiers hovering protectively at his side. A few quiet words had them moving back outside, leaving the two of them alone.
"Miss Pelham," he began after looking at her for a moment, "I want to clarify something with you. About what you might, or might not have heard while trapped. It's important, because according to everyone's testimony you didn't hear anything. You don't remember anything. If anyone, and I mean anyone asks, you will tell them it was all a blur."
Gone was the friendly, joking figure that she was trapped with. She could tell immediately that this was the Vice President of the United States acting in his official capacity.
"I hope we understand each other, Miss Pelham."
She wet her lips. Even after two bottles of water, they still felt dry.
"Or else?" she asked.
He grinned, but it was not a friendly one.
"I sincerely hope that we don't get to that, Miss Pelham. But yes, unfortunately. 'Or else'."
She nodded quietly, and Ryan left. Laying back down on her cot, she resolved herself to just put all of this behind her. She didn't want to deal with intrigue and secret deals between powerful people. She didn't want to deal with Endbringers or picking up after them. All she wanted to do was go home, hug her mom and hang out with her brother.
She just wanted to be done with today.
AEH
Jack Ryan
5:22am
2 Hours, 27 Minutes until reinforcements arrive.
"We have confirmation that there are people trapped in the subway lines in several air pockets. I requested support and in the last forty-five minutes, we've had elements of the 5th and 10th Special Forces Groups arrive in the city. We're going to need their training and expertise in clearing out the subway lines."
He sat back in the chair, soup mug cradled in his hands, looking over the holographic display. He had known that Taylor Hebert had holographic technologies, but he hadn't expected in the span of months she would be fielding something that could provide a battlespace projection.
It was only further confirmation of his opinion that she would need to be protected and nurtured, because if this was the work of only a few months, he could only imagine what it would be in a few years. Especially considering Taylor's own admissions, she was putting a lot of her technology together with 'inferior' materials and workarounds in order to field them now instead of later.
"Is digging equipment an option," he asked, earning a shake of the head from Herres.
"We drill down and the air will rush out, causing the water to rise. If the air pressure is too high, we risk a blowout which will certainly kill everyone we're trying to rescue. We wait too long and they'll die from hypoxia, or hypothermia, or the currents will overwhelm them with the new rain. We've got every civil engineer we can find along with plenty of hands working to clear out the storm drains, but it's slow going. The darkness and the weather aren't helping."
Taking another slow sip, he once again considered the holographic map of Boston. Shades of red and yellow dotted the holoscape, representing damaged areas and cleared roads respectively. Pins highlighted critical locations like emergency shelters, mustering areas, storage yards, and more.
"What's the local response been like?"
"We've had a steady flow of volunteers coming in, civilians and capes, surprisingly. Mostly we've been able to intercept them at the city border and direct them where they are needed, with a few caveats that are still awaiting my decision. I've been in contact with the state governors of Maine, New York, and Pennsylvania, they're recalling reserves and organizing aid. I'm waiting to hear back from Texas and Florida as well. But even with their assistance, it'll be days before we see any meaningful support. Right now," Herres sighed, the exhaustion obvious in his demeanor, "We're doing the best we can with what we got. Hopefully the first wave of FEMA and disaster relief that the President is sending our way will help stem the tide, because we are balancing everything on a knife's edge at this point, and all it will need is one thing going wrong to wipe away all of our effort at maintaining the peace."
"Are you going to be able to handle the influx," he asked, his eyes shifting over to where Logan was located. Large swathes of that location were red, but interspersed in that were yellow, and surprisingly…green.
"The airfields at Logan are cleared according to the latest reports I have. The facilities are a writeoff, but we've been able to establish an ad-hoc staging and dispersal hub there. The roads are cleared and the trucks are standing by for loading. The Harbor is still a mess, but we've been able to get the Kidd to make it to dock. The Navy is several hours behind, but we should have enough time to solve the harbor issue if the capes that have come in can be utilized."
"What's the problem with them?
Herres sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"The issue is the political ramifications. The majority of capes that have arrived? They are from the Empire Eighty-Eight."
"Great, just what we need! The Führer Fanclub coming to save the day," he resisted the urge to massage his brow, understanding exactly the dilemma facing Herres perfectly. It was a situation where if he utilized the Nazi-sympathizing capes, it would create bad optics for quite a lot of people, especially when the Colonel was already going to be facing an uphill battle once things were done. But on the other hand, if he didn't utilize them, what would that cost them in lives saved?
It was a shitty situation to save the least. With pros and cons going both ways. But at the end of the day, it would have to be a decision made by Herres himself. He could advise the Colonel, but he could not make the decision for him.
Still, it would probably be best for him to at least offer him a sounding board.
"What are you thinking, Colonel?"
"I think I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't, Mister Vice President," Herres finally said after a brief pause, "Kaiser chose probably the best people he could to help with search and rescue. All of them had a legitimate use, and they can actually speed up the process. It's just the fact that I damn well know what the reaction is going to be, and that these people are going to use it for propaganda value."
"But…"
"But I made a pledge to save lives," Herres released a sigh, "and frankly, I've already pretty much declared to hell with the politics by taking control of the situation. So, what's one more instance of thumbing my nose? I can use the Endbringer Truce to utilize them. And if they cause problems, then I'll crush them under those same rules. Simple as that. Besides," his lips twitched in momentary amusement, "it's probably gonna piss them off that they are going to have to take orders from a black man."
He snorted. Yeah, that would probably rile up quite a few of them. But the reality that they both likely knew was that as amusing as prospect it would be, it would likely still amount in a net negative politically. Still, throwing away lives for callous political calculation was not something he, nor apparently Herres, would accept.
Drinking from his soup now that it had cooled slightly, he gestured with his mug to the holoprojector.
"And the tech? Zero Dawn and its little inventor."
Herres actually scowled for the first time.
"The tech's been an absolute godsend. Her focus devices are simplistic and easy to use, and the system it runs on is damn near perfect for entering, tracking, and displaying data. The Machines are exactly as she advertised, too. They are sturdy, respond well to commands, make smart decisions if left on their own, and while they have been banged up a bit, they haven't broken down. The Blaze fuel may not work in our vehicles, but it burns nicely. Heating, cooking, and signal fires are all currently being done with Blaze."
The Colonel then rose, folding his arms. "The largest problem with the tech? It's the one that is running it. The girl…"
"How is Miss Hebert?"
"Stable and resting. A cape healer that calls herself Panacea got hands on her in under a minute and confirmed that no permanent damage was done. The girl also swore like a Marine and said that, and I quote, "I've seen healthier forty-year-old smokers who work eighty hour weeks."
Herres then sighed heavily, "According to Panacea, it's a miracle that it was just a heart attack; too many stimulants, too little sleep for days, stress, malnutrition, and dehydration are just a few of the things that she diagnosed. The energy drinks that Hebert was tossing back only hastened the collapse. The medics have her hooked up to IV for fluids, and Panacea is making sure that she stays asleep so she can recover. She'll wake up in a day or so, hungry as anything, but it's better than dead. But thankfully her machines and systems work without her, and the team she brought from Brockton Bay included a programmer and technicians. Something breaks, they can fix it."
"Good to hear," he was silent, taking another moment to look over the display, noting how even now it was changing as they spoke, "Now. The elephant in the room."
Herres nodded gravely, "Yes, Sir. Martial Law."
"Exactly. Does the President have the power to declare it? That's going to be argued for months, and more than likely years. But, at the end of the day, it was you that suggested it and acted upon it. You know they are going to crucify you for this. They have to, the fools."
Herres answered him with silence, choosing instead to stare at the holographic display. The only sound that did penetrate the tent they were in were the quiet murmurs of the other staff moving around and talking with one another, and the sounds from outside.
"I was part of Autumn Thunder," the other man spoke finally, "A 15C jock with the 33rd. I had a front seat to how powerless we were in the face of that…thing. Even now, I wonder if I was one of the unlucky ones to survive, or just was unfortunate enough to be one of those damned to watch sixty years of tradition be set aside to rot. But throughout all of that, the uniform still means something. Diminished, maybe, but our oath to defend the people is still in effect. Besides, at least this way we'll have a fighting chance not to surrender another city to those things. This won't be the end of Boston, sir. Not on my watch."
And that was good enough for him. Maybe it was divine providence, but it appeared that somehow, some way, out of all of the men that could have ended up here, it was a good one like Herres. It only made his course going forward all the more important. He wasn't exaggerating what was likely to come next. Herres had done something not done since the Civil War, and there was a reason there were several laws on the books that prevented what Durling and Herres had done.
Yet, in spite of that; They had done it regardless.
Durling was without a doubt done. Even if he survived the likely impeachment that was coming, this was his second term. At least the man had chosen to go out the right way, instead of what too many politicians would have done.
But that still left Herres. The man was going to need as much help as he could, because if the politicians in DC didn't get Durling, they were going to go for the 'weaker' prey in order to make themselves look good, and Herres would make for the perfect patsy. For either party.
He stood, and reached across the table with an open hand. Herres took his hand with a firm shake.
"Thank you for your service, Colonel Herres. You're a credit to the uniform."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, I probably need to get back to DC. I'm no good stuck here. Do you have a Focus you can give me?"
He wasn't shocked at Herres hesitating. The fact of the matter was, the man needed as many of these Focuses as possible for here. To give one away could have a negative impact on the ongoing efforts to save lives. It meant that there would be one person unable to communicate that would previously have had an opportunity to do so.
"I have a strategic reserve of one hundred," Herres started, bowing his head slightly in contemplation, "That is out of the five hundred that Miss Hebert brought with her. But, Mister Vice President, I need more and Zero Dawn doesn't have the money to produce more at this time. Miss Hebert wasn't explicit, but I have a feeling that she may have damaged her position with her investors to pull this off. And I'll need as many Foci as I can get in the days to come. If I send you one, can you take my pleas directly to the President?"
"How much are we talking, Colonel?"
"I don't exactly have a figure, Mister Vice President. But, any money would likely be able to start their production line. These Focuses aren't just a game-changer, they flip the entire table. And not just in disaster relief, but for about every facet of our society. Just speaking for the military, the Pentagon is going to be knocking down Miss Hebert's door once I provide an AAR. A mobile C3I device that has its own datalink system and can sync with an established network, sharing audio, visual, and data securely? The better question to ask is who wouldn't be offering their firstborn for such a device."
While outwardly he reflected a calm visage, internally he was not exactly surprised by the vociferous support of Herres. Just looking at the display told an entire tale of how integral the Focus had been to the success of the initial search and rescue efforts. But the fact that Herres was already looking at the future implications of the technology, well, it certainly added to the meeting he had with Miss Hebert only yesterday.
No, there was no doubt in his mind that Miss Hebert was going to earn a strategic asset designation. If not by the time he arrived at DC, then by the time he met with the President. It would be absolutely incompetent and negligent to the point of possibly being treasonous to do otherwise.
The answer was disturbingly simple for such a complicated request. Because this was going to be akin to pouring molten aluminum down the anthill that had already been kicked over.
"You have my guarantee, Colonel. We're in this together. If anyone gives you any trouble, you call me. We're going to make this a success story, even if I have to sit on the bean counters and dig the skeletons out of the closet myself."
That seemed to relieve the other man, his shoulders sagging just enough to notice, as if some of the burden he was under was taken off his shoulders.
"I'll have one provided and have one of my men walk you through using it. It's surprisingly intuitive and even has its own tutorials for how to wield it. For being so young, Miss Hebert seems to be fairly forward thinking."
"Except in regards to her health."
"Except that," Herres sighed. "What do we do with her?"
That was a complicated question. Especially with the storm that was about to come. He had no doubt in his mind that in addition to the recognition she was about to receive, she was probably going to be the focal point of a lot of politicians, especially of the PRT-bent. But that was in the future, right now there was a different hand that should be applied to her.
"When she wakes up, teach her what you can about delegation! But that aside, I think you are firmly aware of just how vital that girl is going to be, going forward. So I want you to do everything in your power to keep her safe and on friendly terms with the government. That little gadget alone is going to change how we do things," he said sternly, motioning to the holographic display and the information being displayed and updated on it.
"On that we agree, sir."
He then reached and shook the Colonel's hand, his mind already whirling as to what next needed to be done. His return to DC was going to be tumultuous, and every bit was going to be needed in order to skew things in their favor.
So he looked around the room, taking in the various personnel milling about, "Can one of you show me to the medical tent? I need to dress the part."
This earned a raised eyebrow from the Colonel, "Walking wounded?"
He nodded, smiling slightly, "Walking wounded. Nothing like a wounded hero surviving through impossible odds. The press will love it, and hopefully we can elicit enough support to stack the deck in our favor."
Herres chuckled slightly as he ordered someone to lead him to the medical tent. Then Colonel turned back to the table and went back to work as he exited.
AEH
7:49 AM
As dawn slowly inched closer, rescue crews were rotated, with food and water being handed out. All the while, the machines of the LRL headed out again and again. They searched through the debris that clogged the roads with a mechanical grace. Watchers shopped around, their heads moving constantly, scanning everything within their gaze. Burrowers scampered over, under, and through buildings, cars, and rubble searching for any sign of people. And they found people, calling back to their human attendants as hundreds were found in need of rescue.
The Scrapper - dog-like thing that it was - often found itself at the vanguard of the pack, using its powerful jaws to cut people free. In other cases, it used its head as a wedge to get into spaces, and lifted debris to free those trapped inside or underneath. The ram-headed Charger often helped to support the weight even as it provided fuel to its herd, and sometimes warmth for those who needed it.
The lumbering Titan, with its massive bulk, cut an intimidating figure to many. But its contribution was unmatched when it came to sheer strength. A photographer would snap the iconic image of the Titan yoked to a flatbed, hauling supplies behind it like the sturdy beast that it was modeled after.
And they didn't stop, moving only deeper into the city. People called down from rooftops and windows. Cape teams flew across the sky directing survivors to shelters set up to receive them. Time and time again, the machines proved their worth in silence. Cars and debris stood no chance against the Titan as it cleared the road. The Scrappers' grinders tore through fallen beams, telephone poles, broken doors, and more to get access to survivors. Burrowers and Watchers kept up a frenetic and desperate pace, checking every inch of Boston for more people in need of rescue.
Throughout it all, it was the humans that fell behind, as the work intensified and they wore out from exhaustion. Not that the machines escaped unharmed. The Scrapper lunged and covered a survivor with its body when a ceiling collapsed unexpectedly. The Titan's previously pristine white armor now bore scrapes and drag marks from pressing up against stone and concrete, keeping buildings from collapsing. A Burrower suffered optic damage when it jumped into a fire, looking for a shut off valve to a gas line. But still they continue inexorably forward. And to the cold, the frightened, the lost, and the wounded of Boston, the first sign of hope they saw was a warm, blue glow of the Light Rescue Lance headed their way, with human companions following closely behind them.
Somehow, word of the machines spread amongst both the rescuers and the rescued, becoming a point of unity. The refugee camp buzzed with news, as each new rescue came in. Of how the Titan stood against raging waters and carried people to safety. How the Scrapper would nudge its head against tired rescuers, seemingly to offer comfort. How the perky Burrowers would roll and play in the shallows, but always returned to work.
Unfortunately, not every story ended happily. And as time marched on, the attrition slowly built as the Machines were called to do more and more things that they were never initially envisioned to do in this build. Taylor had to cut corners in their design in order to meet the deadline, and it showed in the materials used in the design, far below the spec for the finalized product that she envisioned. Armor plating broke, optics cracked and degraded, rotors strained from wear and tear as tolerances were continuously exceeded, and electronics inevitably faltered as their load limits were challenged. But this truth was known only to a select few. To the people of Boston, the machines' perseverance was a comfort. And as dawn finally peaked over the horizon, the near silence was broken by the droning of large and powerful engines as heavy aircraft began their approach for landing at Logan. And as the first C-5 Galaxy landed, the people of Boston held one truth close to their hearts even in the desperation of the situation.
In the darkness of the previous night, hope was a shining blue light.