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The elevator announced its arrival with a polite ding.
“Airship Gendarmerie Barracks,” the soft voice announced.
The doors slid apart, renouncing their duties for a small window. Lascarone stepped through and came to a stop as the elevator shut behind him, whirring off further into the depths of the airship.
The barracks floors were a far cry from the comfort of the officer quarters yet were also far from lousy accommodation. The typical bleakness of the metal walls’ unerring glare was softened by a coat of cream paint, a red strip running along it just above the harsh tiles. Hues of gentle orange descended from above, changed from the usual harsh white of the day to spare the slumbering crew from rude awakening. Potted plants sat rooted in the corners of the elevator lobby, positioned beneath the eternal vigil of the security cameras. Lascarone watched as they panned from left to right, red lights blinking to assure faculty and warn troublemakers that they were being watched.
“Sir?”
Lascarone looked right. Positioned to the side of the elevators, sat alone in the empty chamber with only a curved desk and array of monitors to offer company, lurked a soldier of the Ascoltata Gendarmerie. Lascarone recognised the navy-blue fabric fatigues, the red beret, the red bandana sitting around the neck, the digitless leather gloves and the golden pin over the left breast. The white and brown spaniel, fur coat unkempt and eyes bloodshot from a night of disturbed sleep, stood up from her desk and saluted upon recognition.
“Good morning, Bridge Officer Lascarone,” she said with a German accent.
“Morning,” Lascarone grumbled, hoping he hid his surprise at the time – and the implied lack of awareness – well enough. “Is the supervisor here? I spoke to her earlier, she paged me to come down.”
The soldier nodded and sat at the desk, tapping away at her keyboard.
“Uh…okay, yes.”
She pointed down the corridor.
“Down there and take the left at the end. She’ll be waiting.”
“Grazie.”
Lascarone bid the exhausted spaniel a silent farewell and travelled down the corridor. Barracks stood shut to his left and right, slumbering soldiers of the Ascoltata Gendarmerie hiding behind the steel sentinels that guarded the entrance. Lascarone regarded each painted barracks designation with a mixture of nostalgia and sympathy. He knew the beds were not exactly 5-star quality, and he still felt the lingering bruises of bumping into the post of his metal bunk bed in the unyielding dark, but he could not help look back upon those moments of camaraderie with fondness. In his fifty years of life – in those thirty years of esteemed and bloodied service – the greatest warmth converged on those memories of sincere talks, cards, and rowdy drinking games he had only obtained from his countless nights in the Ascoltata Gendarmerie.
Bidding his memories farewell until another time – likely a time of incessant drinking – he turned at the end of the corridor. The golden retriever stood outside the open door to one of the barracks with arms behind her back. Every inch was immaculate. Not a crease dared to assail the fabric of the prestigious uniform. The absence of the red beret revealed the fur trimmed short over the head; a regiment of strands standing to attention. Even in the waning hours of the ship’s morning, not a trace of fatigue was evident upon her face.
“Supervisor Glenscoe,” Lascarone said, stopping by her.
“Bridge Officer,” she said with an Irish accent, saluting. “I got one of the teams up for you to speak to them.”
“Not all the teams?” Lascarone said.
“It’s 2am ship-time, sir. A lot of teams have been working hard and deserve as much sleep as they can get. I’ll make sure they’re fully briefed as this unit is.”
“Why is this unit up at all, then?”
Supervisor Glenscoe smirked.
“Caught them trying to smoke on the ship. Thought this was fair enough punishment.”
“Rookie mistake,” Lascarone scoffed. “All right then, introduce me.”
Supervisor Glenscoe turned and walked into the open barracks with Lascarone in tow. Beyond the threshold, the wall and floor colours persisting into the barracks, resided the living quarters of the punished unfortunates. Five bunk beds, bolted into position, stood to his left and right. Padded mattresses, covered in strewn sheets and the occasional soldier attempting to sneak in some extra seconds of sleep, sat atop the harsh frames. At the centre was a long table, running from door to the opposite side of the barracks, with five chairs on either side. The hallmarks of time killing claimed the surface; decks of cards, books, empty plastic cups, laptops with dimmed screens, pawheld games consoles, and plenty of crumpled clothes awaiting the mercy of a good wash in the labyrinthian laundry deck. The haphazard nature of such occupation brought a smile to Lascarone’s face. He saw a younger version of himself at the table; rowdier, chirpier, and certainly a lot leaner.
“Bridge Officer present,” Supervisor Glenscoe said, slamming her clenched paw against the side of the door twice. “Stand to attention.”
Movement summoned Lascarone’s gaze to the beds again. Groaning soldiers pushed themselves off the frames they had been leaning against. A select few rolled off their beds, shedding comfort and respite for another bout of duty. None donned their uniforms; they all stood in boxers and pants, baggy t-shirts drooping over their figures. They lumbered to the table and turned to face Lascarone, saluting and then mumbling a drowsy half-greeting.
“You’re a miserable lot,” Supervisor Glenscoe sighed, looking at one of the front soldiers. “Allyons, where’s Kangli?”
The poodle, half the fur on his face squashed inwards from the lasting indent of the pillow, turned and scanned his comrades’ faces.
“Uh…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Before the flustered soldier could confirm, a groan and a thud answered. Lascarone peered to the back left corner. Lying on her front, entangled in sheets and pillows, was the missing soldier.
“Kangli. Lovely to see you awake,” Glenscoe said. “Get over here.”
The lanky dalmatian groaned, kicking off her sheets like a pup on a school morning.
“All this over a damn cigarette,” she muttered with an Indian accent.
“Want to repeat that?” Glenscoe said.
“No ma’am.”
“Shut up then.”
Kangli, silent, got up and approached the table. She saluted the bridge officer with a face made thunderous by fatigue.
“Bridge Officer.”
“You may all be seated,” Lascarone said. “Thank you for rousing the troops, supervisor.”
The soldiers sat down in their chairs, sweeping clutter aside to make room. Supervisor Glenscoe stepped aside, leaving Lascarone to speak.
“I’ll keep this short and simple. You’ll be giving in-depth briefing closer to time of operation. Right now I need you to understand the context.”
No one spoke. Lascarone continued.
“Yesterday, 6pm airship time, a Brutta Notte taskforce designated Zero-One was shot down whilst escorting a package. Radio contact was established with bridge traffic control and five survivors have been confirmed with package still in tow. Unfortunately, they’ve crashed in a dense forest and we are unable to ascertain their position until they migrate east into open territory.”
“Where’s this forest, sir?” the poodle asked.
“We believe it to be on the east border of Croatia. The Ascoltata is over the Atlantic right now. We’ll be in overhead position by the morning. Air support and rescue will be unavailable until then.”
“Which is where we come in,” Kangli said, reclining in her chair.
“Exactly. Typically, the Gendarmerie see to airship security but, due to how many Brutta Notte teams are already assigned or on leave, we’ll be pulling you and two other teams in for the rescue.”
“Should we be expecting anything nasty down there, sir?” a soldier asked.
“You should be expecting, bare minimum, Neowehrmacht patrols. Last radio contact with Zero-One was in response to unidentified gunfire. We are yet to re-establish communications.”
Lascarone hesitated.
“It’s likely the taskforce is down, injured or otherwise. As for the whereabouts of the objective package, I’m unsure. Plans and procedures will be drawn up for scouring the forest but, for now, know that you’ve got a big job ahead of you.”
There was little reaction. Some soldiers managed a smile, some rubbed their faces, and some did nothing. Kangli stared, unimpressed and undeterred.
Rather this than them crying and begging to not be sent out.
“You all heard the Bridge Officer,” Supervisor Glenscoe said, stepping forward. “You need to be awake and attentive for this rescue operation.”
She procured a zipped plastic bag. Coloured toothbrushes sat imprisoned within, trying to poke their way free of the container’s dominion.
Lascarone felt pity for the unfortunates.
“For violating airship safety procedure – an airship safety procedure you should all be enforcing so this place doesn’t go up in flames – you’ll be using these to clean the drains of the shedders’ showers.”
The team groaned, revulsed and disappointed.
“Ma’am, shouldn’t we get more sleep?” someone said. “We’re—”
“Don’t care. Get up, take one, and head down there. That fur isn’t going to dislodge itself.”
With grumbling discontent, the team got up and marched over. They took a toothbrush each and marched off to the nearby showers.
“You’ve got a cruel streak, Glenscoe,” Lascarone said.
“Hopefully they’ll learn this time,” Supervisor Glenscoe said, pocketing the empty bag. “Those rules exist for a reason.”
“You’re sure they’ll be awake and ready when the time comes?”
“I’ll make sure of it. Slacking isn’t a thing in the Ascoltata Gendarmerie, Bridge Officer. I’m sure you’ve understood that.”
“I had many years to get that through my head.”
Supervisor Glenscoe escorted the Bridge Officer back to the elevator, shutting the barracks door and walking him to the lobby. The spaniel didn’t look up from her work as they passed. Lascarone pressed the button.
“Sounds like a messy affair,” the supervisor sighed. “I hope that team is okay.”
“Me too. They’re in the Brutta Notte for a reason. If they died…I’m sure they were a pain in the ass until the end.”
“It’s an aspirational way to go. Exactly what I’d expect from them.”
The elevator announced its arrival with that polite ding. The doors slid open. Lascarone stepped inside.
“I’ll speak to the other teams, get the plan ready,” Supervisor Glenscoe said.
“You’ll need to prepare enough for a few days’ trip. This won’t be quick.”
“It’ll be done. Leave all the logistics and worrying to me.”
She stepped back from the elevator and saluted.
“See you in a few hours, sir.”
The elevator doors closed. Lascarone relented his burdens with a sigh and hit the panel.
It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.
…
Death and bloodshed had been Giancarlo’s expertise since he left school. He had seen the worst of the world in its horrid abundance across battlefields under many banners. The fear of the eternal abyss, of the godless destination his demise would bring, had always lurked beneath the calm and composed surface. In the darkness, he could only rely upon his training to guide him.
Yet, in the silence of the descending elevator, stomach aching from hunger and body heaving from exhaustion, Giancarlo didn’t know what to think of it all.
As their elevator descended at a lethargic speed, issuing a concerning shake every now and then, not a word was spoken. The ringing in his ears offered its irritating and eternal presence to substitute, mocking his increasingly-fragile state, and it drove him towards silent mania. He tapped his digits against his weapon, he checked the magazine over and over, and he started to breathe louder to compensate.
Maxim and Alex were gone; victims of different fates…yet gone nonetheless.
The guilt permeated the air. It stuck to the walls. It greased the floor. It clung to the metal cage’s exterior that whisked them further towards their doom.
As seconds passed, he realised it wasn’t just his own breath he was hearing.
Aelwin’s shoulders rose and fell as she forced trembling air in and out. Her tail was driven between her legs. Her shaking paws struggled to maintain their grip on the rifle. The visible lingering of panic – of terror – brought Giancarlo out of his own troubled doldrums.
“Zero-Four?” Giancarlo said. “You’re breathing weird.”
Aelwin shook her head.
“I can’t do this.”
She hit the elevator panel. Their courier’s sudden halt sent Alvotolini and Giancarlo lurching, slamming into the walls.
“Hey!” Giancarlo yelled. “What are you doing?”
“Che cazzo?” Alvotolini snapped.
The elevator, equally as confused, began its slow ascent.
“We have to go back,” Aelwin said, voice choking with tears. “We left them there. We—”
Alvotolini shoved her aside and hit the panel. The elevator stopped and then resumed its descent. Aelwin, defeated, dropped her gun and slid down against the wall. She came into a sitting position, knees up to her chest and face pointed towards the floor. She ripped her helmet and balaclava off, revealing red terrified eyes.
“We’re going to die down here,” she rasped. “Oh God…oh God oh God we’re going to die.”
“Zero-Four,” Alvotolini said. “Listen to me—”
Aelwin clutched her head, face crumpling as she sobbed.
“Oh God…oh God please no…I don’t want to die…I don’t want to go now…”
“Zero-Four.”
“I want to go home…please, someone, just get me out of here…”
The snivelling mess pushed herself into the corner, leering at the walls as if they were murderers. The ferocity of her fear strengthened.
“If we keep going down we’re going to die! We’re all going to die horribly! They’re going to turn us into statues and cut us into pieces! T-they’ll slowly turn us into fucking flowers and watch us die!”
Alvotolini knelt.
“Zero-Four—”
Aelwin threw herself at him.
“Sir, please let me go back! I want my mum! I want to go home! I can’t be here anymore! For the love of God, please, don’t make me go down there!”
Alvotolini shoved her off with a hiss. Aelwin recoiled as Giancarlo did.
“This is not the time for this. Pull yourself together.”
“Sir—”
“Zero-Six stayed behind so we could continue on. Zero-Seven took a risk so none of us would have to endanger ourselves. They did that because they trusted us to finish the mission.”
“I can’t—”
“I don’t care if you can’t. I don’t give a shit if you don’t think you can keep going. If you stop here, Zero-Four, you will die. Do you understand me? They will kill you. Our only hope of getting everyone out of here alive is by doing as that thing asked us to. We can cry and scream and call for our mother once everyone is out of harm’s way but until then I don’t want to hear another fucking word out of you that isn’t ‘yes sir’. I won’t have you spit on their sacrifice because you’re scared. You’re not the only one who stands to lose something. Do you understand me?”
Aelwin stared, wide-eyed. Alvotolini glared.
“Did I make myself clear, Zero-Four?”
Aelwin nodded.
“Y-yes, sir.”
“This isn’t going to happen again, is it Zero-Four?”
“No, sir.”
Alvotolini stood, offering his paw. A reluctant tone, apologetic, accompanied his words.
“Don’t make me speak to you like that again.”
Aelwin took his paw and stood. She picked up her gun and equipment, pulling her mask and helmet over her head.
“We’ll get through this, Zero-Four,” Giancarlo said. “We’ll stick together and fix everything.”
Aelwin said nothing. She stared ahead at the doors, awaiting the horrors ahead.
The elevator screeched to a halt. A ding, glitched and distorted, announced their arrival.
“Get ready,” Alvotolini said, pistol held. “Two more floors to go.”
The doors opened with a squeal. Giancarlo tensed in anticipation of some horrid fiend flinging itself into the elevator, of raucous gunfire and screams echoing through the facility.
A more docile horror greeted the new arrivals.
Along the grey concrete corridor, illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights, the aftermath of some gruesome horror lay in wait. Corpses riddled with sharpened wood lay strewn out beside heaps of broken robotic components. Blood streaked across the walls and spattered over the ceiling. Bullet holes, left in place by bursts of panicked fire, pierced the corridor’s confines in wild patterns.
A security camera, red light blinking, gazed upon the decimation with a glacial expression upon the lens.
“That thing must have come through here,” Alvotolini said, pistol held in low-ready. “On me. Avanti.”
Alvotolini pressed forward. Giancarlo moved to follow but stopped as he noticed Aelwin refusing to go. She stood at the threshold, trembling as she gazed upon the destruction.
Giancarlo placed a paw upon her shoulder.
“Zero-Four?”
Aelwin looked over at him.
“I can’t do it.”
“You can. You’re more capable than most.”
Aelwin stared, unconvinced. Giancarlo spoke.
“It’s okay to be scared. What’s courage without fear, right?”
Those issued words of encouragement assuaged his own fears somewhat. The terrible depths of the Nazi institution, and the rotten fruits they birthed, proved less impenetrable than they had once before. Aelwin’s tense body relaxed ever so slightly.
“Okay,” she said. “I…I think I’m ready.”
“Ricevuto. I’m with you all the way.”
Aelwin, taking a deep breath, followed after their leader. Giancarlo brought up the rear. He checked the magazine of his weapon and then patted down his magazine pouches on the bottom of his vest.
Not a lot of ammunition left.
The trio pressed on through the silent remnants of the massacre. Every step came with the sickening squelch of blood and viscera. Break rooms and lockers, laden with the corpses of eviscerated guards and researchers, leered at the passing soldiers through open doorways. Giancarlo offered not a thought for the agonised ends such fools had met; they had been monsters in their own right. Peering inside the final resting places of the countless bastards was done only to ensure no ghoulish machine waited in ambush.
Despite it all, he could only think of Maxim and Alex.
We’ll get them out of here. Alvotolini will find a way.
Alvotolini came to a sudden stop beside a door, raising a clenched fist. Aelwin and Giancarlo fell in behind him.
“Contact?” Giancarlo whispered.
“Something else,” Alvotolini said. “Zero-Four, run security on this door. Let us know if anything comes.”
Aelwin nodded. Alvotolini looked over his shoulder at Giancarlo.
“Zero-Two?”
“Certo.”
The duo advanced into the room. Alvotolini peeled right, gun levelled at the corner, whilst Giancarlo focused ahead. The sliced debris of destroyed computers and interfaces littered the small security office, strewn alongside the lacerated ribbons of Nazi regalia that had once been displayed with horrid pride upon the walls. Equipment that had been spared from the carnage presented repeating footage upon their monitors.
“Clear,” Giancarlo said, lowering his weapon.
He looked right.
Alvotolini stood in front of a corpse. The body was that of another Neowehrmacht trooper, one that Giancarlo found to be surprisingly intact. Not a drop of their own blood stained their uniform. They lay with their back propped up against the wall, slumped against one of the few desks left standing. The feline’s eyes had been covered in dirt, packed layers that solidified beyond its typical powdery texture, and Giancarlo could see thin pulsating roots snaking through the soil before disappearing beneath the surface.
His chest still rose and fell.
“What is this?” Giancarlo asked, stepping forward.
“I don’t know,” Alvotolini said. “It’s new.”
“Something that beast does to people?”
Alvotolini crouched in front of the comatose soldier.
“I’ve never seen this before. He’s alive…but I don’t know what benefit these things get from leaving him that way.”
“That raven didn’t need much reason to toy with us,” Giancarlo said. “That rabbit could have just let Maxim go. These fae do stuff on a whim.”
“Reason doesn’t mean a lot to them, you’re right. Toying with us is primary motive. Leaving someone in this state instead of killing them implies exactly that.”
“You think its the ACMs?”
“It could be anything. The beast upstairs, the fae, the ACMs…nothing makes sense down here.”
Giancarlo hesitated.
“Do you think the thing in the forest lied to us, sir?”
Alvotolini stared at the comatose soldier, uncertainty brewing.
“I don’t know. How this ends is beyond me. Our best bet is to keep going and free this thing.”
“You think that’s what they want?”
“It’s our best guess at this point.”
The monitors beside them flashed white. Giancarlo turned as they returned to footage of the massacre, depicting tens of ACMs decimating ranks of Neowehrmacht, but noticed the grainy text displayed over it. It glitched and shifted, some crude intrusion upon the system.
FOLLOW THE CAMERAS
“Uh, sir?” Aelwin called in a hushed tone from the door. “Something’s going on with the camera.”
Alvotolini spared no time. Giancarlo followed the team leader back to the door in a contained panic, dread rising in anticipation of a horrid situation. Aelwin pointed up at the ceiling.
“There.”
The security camera, spattered in dirt and blood, glared at the trio. It regarded them with neither contempt or relief; it observed them with only a red blinking light signalling its intrigue.
“Has it moved?” Alvotolini asked.
“It wasn’t facing this way earlier, sir,” Aelwin said.
The camera panned right, gesturing down the corridor. It turned back and forth, directing the team along.
“Someone’s doing that,” Giancarlo said. “That’s not automated movement.”
“They’ll be in the security headquarters,” Alvotolini said. “Those cameras will lead us.”
“You want to follow them?” Aelwin said, retreating a step. “What if it’s a trap?”
“The screens in that room behind us are saying to follow it. If whoever was watching us wanted us dead, we’d be dead.”
“What if this is their way of making that happen?”
“The alternative is we try to go another way and get lost.”
Aelwin shook her head, pointing right at the junction ahead.
“We should go the opposite way to where that camera is pointing us.”
“That won’t work,” Alvotolini said.
Aelwin stared, chest heaving, before turning and taking off right.
“Zero-Four!” Alvotolini hissed. “Get back here!”
Giancarlo hurried after her. Aelwin moved down the right corridor, weapon ready, and took a left at the end. Giancarlo caught up to her, turning.
“Zero-Fo—”
Aelwin gasped and recoiled. Through an open security door, blockading the corridor, ten ACMs lurked. They rifled through the bodies of their victims, tossing aside severed limbs and heads. As to whether they were searching for something or satisfying their unending curiosity of the mortal condition was unclear to Giancarlo.
One looked up, staring right at them.
“Oh shit!” Giancarlo yelled, raising his gun.
Before either could pull the trigger, one of the ACMs lunged. The security door slid shut from either side. The guardians sliced the marauder in half, leaving its legs and compatriots on one side whilst its torso floundered on the ground. Giancarlo stamped on its chest, denting the torso plating inwards, and emptied the magazine into the cavity. He shielded his face as the ACM exploded, sending its limbs flying.
The marauder’s cohort continued banging on the door in futile attempts to reach them. Aelwin stood there, dumbfounded.
Giancarlo looked up above them.
A blinking camera stared, gaze levelled at the closed doors.
“I…” Aelwin said. “I thought—”
“Let’s just go, Zero-Four,” Giancarlo said, holding back his tone. “Let Zero-One do the thinking next time.”
Aelwin said nothing. The duo moved back to Alvotolini.
“Are you both okay?” Alvotolini asked.
“Not harmed,” Zero-Two said. “You’re right about the cameras. Whoever’s watching us just shut some doors to keep the ACMs out.”
Alvotolini glared at Aelwin.
“Is your curiosity satisfied now, Zero-Four?”
“Yes sir.”
“Are you going to shut up and listen to me now, Zero-Four?”
“Yes sir.”
Alvotolini glared for a few seconds longer before following the camera’s directions down the corridor. Aelwin followed behind, then Giancarlo.
They pressed on through the harrowing annals of the security floor. They stepped over corpses, both eviscerated and comatose, whilst fighting the temptation to fixate upon the carnage. Giancarlo felt fear scratching at the walls of his own mind, pleading to be let in with a simple glance at one of the victims of the breach. He forced himself to focus upon what his training had taught him.
I am in control. I am trained and ready. I’m not going to die.
The cameras continued issuing their instructions. They turned left and right, took diversions through break rooms and offices, ducked under dangling debris and vaulted over obstacles. Minutes upon minutes of walking through the maze, deprived of map and direction, bred an unease in Giancarlo.
I am in control. I am trained and ready. I’m not going to die.
They turned right. Aelwin followed along, gaze focused upon the destruction.
“Hey,” Giancarlo said. “Don’t focus on it, Zero-Four.”
Aelwin looked ahead.
“R-right.”
Giancarlo patted her shoulder.
“You were right to be sceptical earlier. I would have done the same. But that’s a reaction for a world that makes sense. Down here…these things don’t work that way.”
“I know. I…”
She sighed.
“When we were in the restaurant, that thing looked at me in the eyes. I didn’t know what was going on, I felt like I was going to sleep…and I saw my dad again.”
Giancarlo’s face fell beneath the mask.
“You saw your dad?”
“Yeah, I did. I was a pup again. He was in his bed and…he said his exact last words to me. Then Zero-Six started shooting it and I woke up but it’s…”
She trailed off. Giancarlo spoke.
“I’m sorry. Those things stay with you for life. It’s horrible having to relive that so vividly.”
She nodded.
“I just want to go home.”
“I do, too. We all do. You have to put that aside though. If you’re not focused on the now, none of us will go home. Zero-Six and Zero-Seven are counting on us to fix this.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“You can, Zero-Four. You’ve just been shaken up. You’re the strongest of us here and we rely on you as the medic for a reason.”
Aelwin said nothing. Giancarlo eased his paw off her shoulder.
“Keep that in mind. It’s okay to be scared right now, Zero-Four, but—”
Alvotolini came to a stop, one clenched paw raised. Aelwin and Giancarlo stopped.
“What’s wrong, sir?” Giancarlo said.
Alvotolini pointed up.
“The camera.”
Giancarlo shifted his gaze. The camera gestured the opposite direction with frantic turns, moving at a speed more urgent than it had been before.
“It’s telling us to go back?” Aelwin said.
“I don’t know,” Alvotolini said.
Giancarlo heard it. Through the persisting ringing and the looming silence that birthed it, the familiar clack of metal claws against the floor sounded the approach of another adversary.
Then another.
Then another.
Giancarlo felt his dedication to their position recede as he struggled to count just how many hurried steps were approaching.
The room to his left flashed white. Giancarlo looked inside.
Within the ruined office were a set of bloodied monitors. They displayed footage of a squad of Neowehrmacht being surrounded from both sides and torn apart, heads ripped off by ACMs that clung to the ceiling.
Over that foreboding reel, glitching and shifting, was a single word.
HIDE