Chapter Text
His boots felt heavier than usual as he walked down the corridor, eyes occasionally slipping closed despite the harsh glare cast by the overhead lights. The days following the defeat of Death Stinger had been slow, long and utterly exhausting for both armies and Karl knew that while they had managed to eliminate the threat of Hiltz the scars caused by the Ancient Zoidian would run deep into the future. Zi was devastated. New Helic City, the Republic capital, had been annihilated, reduced to rubble and ash as the joint armies fought a losing battle, desperately trying to stall the enemy as civilians evacuated. But destroying New Helic City hadn’t been enough for Hiltz. Karl felt his tendons strain, his hand closing into a fist as his mood darkened. Countless villages from both the Empire and the Republic had been decimated and some wiped off the face of the planet as if they had never existed. And Hiltz had laughed. Laughed as he hunted them, laughed as he mocked them, laughed as killed them. There was pain radiating through his palm now, sharp and unrelenting as it traveled up into his wrist. He paused in the corridor, momentarily puzzled, then uncurled his fingers, staring down at his hand. There were deep crescent shaped marks embedded in the material of his glove and he realized belatedly that he himself had caused them.
“Colonel Schubaltz…are you lost?”
Karl flinched, caught off guard by the now familiar voice. His alarm unsettled him, he should have been more aware of his surroundings. Karl looked up at the serious face of Major O’Connell, the Republican soldier’s thoughts indiscernible as he stared back at him. In the early days, when the truce between the Republic and the Empire had been in its infancy, Karl had thought O’Connell to be constantly suspicious of both him and any Imperial personnel the then lieutenant encountered. He had now learnt, thanks to Rob Herman stating it in less than flattering terms, that O’Connell had one of those faces and not to read into it. Though, Karl honestly believed whatever doubts O’Connell had about the Imperial army were completely justified at the time and concluded that Herman was better at concealing his own apprehension. Regardless, whatever suspicions the two Republican soldiers had of him had dissipated over time until disappearing completely. The state of O’Connell’s face however had not.
“Colonel?” O’Connell repeated himself, pulling Karl once more from his thoughts, grounding him back in the present. Karl noticed with some surprise that he had walked almost the entire length of the corridor and had stopped only a few meters short of the end. There, a single elevator resided, sunken into the wall, its polished metal doors distorting his reflection. Karl had intended to go to his room, to brush the dust from his uniform and the desert sand from his hair but as he looked at his twisted image he realized he wasn’t even on the correct level for his room. Where had he been going…
“Herman,” Karl said suddenly, turning to face O’Connell.
Whatever embarrassment Karl felt for forgetting to add his counterpart’s title was forgotten as the low constant hum of electrical conduits abruptly fell silent. The lights that ran the length of the ceiling flickered briefly before a loud crack bounced off the walls causing both men to jump slightly. The corridor was plunged into darkness for an instant before the whirl of a backup generator sounded and the red of emergency lighting bathed their surroundings in crimson. Karl counted the passing seconds in his head. One…two…three…Another loud crack echoed throughout the corridor.…four…The emergency lights switched off as the main lights flickered and restarted.…five. Two seconds longer to restart than last time, Karl thought. It made him uncomfortable…filling his stomach with dread. Power outages weren’t exactly uncommon on military bases but they never failed to fill soldiers and officers alike with a sense of foreboding, muscles tense as they waited for a possible enemy attack. However, this wasn’t the reason for Karl’s discomfort. It was the frequency of the outages. Karl’s eyes met O’Connell’s and he knew they were thinking the same thing. It was obvious. The way the doors sometimes failed halfway forcing soldiers to shoulder them open, the way the maintenance deck elevators occasionally refused to move making the mechanics devise a series of lever systems to hoist the Zoids…the slight grey sheen on the armor of the behemoth Zoid Karl saw each morning he led his Saber Tiger out to provide aid to another village. The Ultrasaurus was dying and it was only a matter of time before they had to abandon the great Zoid.
O’Connell’s gaze lingered on the ceiling. “We’ll have the engineers look into that,” he muttered.
Karl shook his head slowly. “There’s no point. Lieutenant Schubaltz has already informed me the fluctuations are a result of power being redirected to the Ultrasaurus’ Zoid cores.”
“Redirected?” O’Connell repeated, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion.
“It’s the seventh core…it’s been steadily failing ever since the Ultrasaurus was awoken.” Karl sighed. Voicing the issue somehow seemed to make their situation incredibly real and imminent. “We were lucky linking it to the six other cores kick-started it. But now, the 7th core is draining the other six cores. Lieutenant Schubaltz suggested rerouting our external power supplies to boost the cores when they reached critically low levels. That’s why we’ve been experiencing the power outages and malfunctions.”
O’Connell looked away, his expression hardening. Karl could see the strain of his jaw muscles as he clenched his teeth and the unconscious way his hands formed into tight fists. Karl knew that this news couldn’t be unexpected but, like him, O’Connell had, in a way, been in denial about the impending death of the Ultrasaurus. “How long do we have?” O’Connell bit out.
“A few weeks at most.” Karl hesitated before speaking again. “A few days at worst.”
O’Connell’s expression slackened, disbelief painted over his face. “I thought we would have more time…”
“We all did,” Karl answered grimly. He turned around, once more facing the elevator and catching a glimpse of his own blurry reflection. It looked drained and despondent. He quickly pressed the button for the control room, thankful when the doors swiftly opened. “I’m going to debrief to Colonel Herman, if he isn’t already aware of the situation I’ll brief him.”
O’Connell nodded, his usual discernible expression carefully reconstructed. Somewhat stiffly, he drew himself up to his full height, feet together, as he gave a short sharp salute. “Sir.”
Karl returned the salute and stepped inside the elevator. As the doors closed he slumped back against the wall of the elevator, feeling the cool of the metal seep through his uniform. The elation following the destruction of the Death Stinger was a fleeting feeling for the joint armies, a brief moment of relief before the dust settled and the extend of the widespread destruction came into view. He reached up and grabbed the peak of his cap, pulling it from his head and simultaneously running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to appear more presentable. The feeling of his hair, damp with sweat and rough with grains of sand, made him grimace. Each day was beginning to feel longer than the last as he led his units out in search of survivors, as they walked through scorched earth and crumbled ruins where thriving towns once stood. There was no justice in a war that involved civilians and the only victory to be had was a hollow one. The floor of the elevator pressed into his sore heels as it ascended and Karl sank further into his own thoughts. In his opinion there had been no victory for them, only a minimization of casualties. He bit the side of his tongue as the burning rage filled his veins once more. What had Hiltz wanted? Why had he been so hellbent on annihilating them all? At first glance it had appeared to be an all out attack against the Helic Republic but Hiltz’s indiscriminate attacks against the citizens of both nations had proved them wrong. And with the race against time for their survival, none of them had even had a chance to think about Hiltz’s motivations. Karl could feel the momentum of the elevator decreasing as it slowed down and fitted his cap back on his head, pushing himself off the cool metal wall to stand unassisted. The elevator came to a jarring halt, the door opened, and Karl stepped into the eerie silence that had fallen over the control room.
The silence was strange, interrupted only by the rustle of papers and hushed voices coming from a small group of soldiers gathered to Karl’s right. Upon seeing him, they immediately snapped to attention but Karl quickly waved them at ease, he didn’t want to interrupt whatever they had been so focused on. He walked towards the command chair, overly conscious of the loudness of his foot steps against the quietness of the room. Only a few days ago, the cockpit of the giant Zoid had been alive with constant noise, the flurry of orders and reports, the smack of combat boots on metal, and the colorful language from Moonbay as she fought to keep control of the Ultrasaurus. Now, there was only the odd hushed voice, the floor was almost vacant, and Moonbay was noticeably absent from the pilot’s chair. Karl reached the side of the command chair and drew himself to attention quietly waiting for acknowledgment. There, Rob Herman sat hunched forward, one foot resting on a bent knee, elbow digging into his thigh as he rested his chin in his palm. From Karl’s perspective, it looked like he was staring off at a point a million miles away, far over the desert horizon that stretched endlessly before them and into the creeping dark of the approaching night sky.
“How many?”
Herman continued to stare out the cockpit, unmoving. His voice was rough to Karl’s ears like Herman had been swallowing all the sand that he and his units had transversed that day. Karl sighed, the tension slipping from his body as his shoulders sunk. He knew the question Herman was asking.
“Three from Jentala Valley, they were travelling home when the colony was attacked.”
Karl paused, watching the tendons in Herman’s arm bulge as the fingers of his free hand sank into his leg, the muscles in his neck becoming rigid. But he continued to stare straight ahead.
“And the Sand Colony?”
Karl didn’t answer immediately, his mouth suddenly becoming dry at the question. Herman dropped his hand from his chin and turned slightly to face him and Karl felt a taken back by the raw hope in Herman’s bloodshot eyes. He looked away, feeling ill, shaking his head slowly.
“Dammit!” Herman roared, the noise seeming to echo throughout the room as he abruptly stood.
Karl waited patiently. He knew Herman was angry at the situation, not him personally. The list of casualties was rising exponentially and it was hard to accept. Herman collapsed back into the command chair, almost boneless, bowed head resting in his hands.
“Sorry,” Herman said through his fingers.
It was barely above a whisper, only loud enough for Karl to have heard it. He looked down at Herman, feeling awkward, somehow now all too aware of the press of the collar of his uniform at his throat. He didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t good at words of comfort especially ones to a high ranking officer of a former enemy army. And there was nothing he could say to alleviate the feeling of personal failure he suspected Herman felt…it was a feeling Karl was quite familiar with himself. He figured he could point out that some of the villages had received the evacuation broadcast on the emergency radio frequency. That some villages had managed to evacuate and get to safety. That they had managed to save some lives. But he knew the words would be of little consolation to his colleague. So he continued as if Herman’s outburst had been nothing. “Tomorrow I‘ll head towards Zeba Village on the other side of Mount Jentala,” Karl said. “The three survivors from Jentala Valley said a large number of people from neighboring villages had sought refuge there.”
Herman shook his head. “No, send someone else out. Tomorrow…I want to recover the Death Stinger…and its pilot.” Herman finally looked up again and Karl winced inwardly at the inflamed capillaries in his eyes. “We need to recover it before the Ultrasaurus loses too much power. I want you and the First Panzer Division there on the ground.” Herman hesitated before adding, “Take your Saber Tigers. I want you to be able to get out of there if things go wrong.”
Karl raised an eyebrow at Herman’s choice of words. “Do you have reason to think things will go wrong?”
“No,” Herman answered firmly. “But I don’t want to take any chances.”
Karl nodded. He could respect that. He sensed that was the end of their conversation. It appeared Herman was already aware of their situation with the Ultrasaurus and was likely keeping the information quiet to avoid panic amongst the crew. “Is that all?” Karl asked.
“No,” Herman said. He looked at Karl with a serious expression. “Get some rest, you look as bad as I feel.”
Karl’s lip cured up in an ironic smile. “Shall I fetch you a mirror?”
To his surprise, of low chuckle emanated somewhere within Herman’s chest before spilling out into a burst of deep, unrestrained laughter. After a moment, Herman wiped the corners of his eyes, looking up at Karl’s vaguely stunned expression.
“I needed that.” Herman said. “Thank-you.”
“I’ll brief my unit and will be waiting for orders tomorrow. If Hiltz isn’t already in Hell, we’ll make him wish he was.” He gave Herman a quick salute, turning on his heel before the other could respond and headed for the elevator. He needed to regroup his unit and organize the recovery mission for tomorrow. Then, maybe he’d take Herman’s advice and get some rest and with him out of the control room perhaps Herman would too.