Into The Rift

Last Call (58)

-1147 Military Hours
-Tartarus Base, Eden Pass

The day is quiet, and I did not know what to make of it. Almost six hours into the shift and the only thing worth even mentioning was a small flock of wild dragons passing overhead around the first hour mark. I look out beyond the fence again and briefly wonder whether this would be the day when we would have to contend with another assault.

It could happen again on a short notice. Just being complacent would be a death sentence. These thoughts kept me going even at the height of boredom. I was tired, but did not lack in motivation even now at the tail end of my shift.

James sends out our last report over comms as I walk through the entire length of the fence to inspect for gaps and check its structural integrity. It takes only a minute to finish the inspection owing to the narrow passage.

Within the final minutes, the next shift arrives right on schedule to relieve us.

"Anything out there?" one of the soldiers asks, gesturing past the fence.

I shake my head. "Only that brief flyby early in the morning. Since then, it's a clean streak."

"Good, always love that," the Corporal pauses and motions to me and James, "they're waiting on you two in Ops—else they won't start."

"Beats babysitting those ungrateful cripples," James says as he leads off through the gorge, slinging his rifle behind.

"Think we can finally agree on a new location?" the other sentry asks.

I shrug, not feeling particularly optimistic about this upcoming discussion. There was a lot to skim through and previous sessions breaking into this topic revealed most had a unique definition on what constituted an ideal base of operations.

"Don't get your hopes up too soon," I answer with a frown.

Clean access to water is certainly universal, but beyond that, the list differed between each person. Selecting a place where everyone could agree on is bound to take some time.

"Anywhere but here man," the trooper jokingly retorts, and sees us off.

"He and I both," James cuts in after we leave the checkpoint to the two. "You have no idea what's it like dealing with their injured."

I look to him and scoff. "What happened this time?"

James shakes his head. "Just a couple of stubborn assholes, nothing I can't handle. I try to be nice, went through a few rounds on them and they still insist on being hard."

He pauses and lets out a chuckle. "They're a lot worse than my late Grandma back when I had to look after her. And she had dementia."

"That's a first, God rest her soul," I say, reflecting on what I know about that woman—Hera.

In earlier times, James had made a few scant references concerning his Grandmother. Most were fond memories, shared with the team during the many downtimes we had in-between missions. 

I had no regrets learning this much about his past. For all the quirkiness the man possessed, life dealt him the short end of the stick.

We continue onwards until the gorge opens up on both sides, occasionally making short banter as the mountain range wraps around us. Snippets of sunlight breach through the clouds, masking the terrain in soft gradients of green and gold.

We pass by several prefabs, keeping mostly quiet. The mood quickly falls as we both stop to reflect on the damage the base had sustained.

I drop my gaze, noting a handful of small shimmers embedded in the dirt. A frown quickly forms.