Ivan found a perfect vantage point to observe the mission assigned to his group–a simple to execute but complex scenario for his recruits to carry out.
His group consisted of eighteen recruits, five of whom were marked with an asterisk. Those marked had shown the aptitude to qualify for the Officer’s Cadet Course, requiring his further input to vet them before their eventual procession into future officer cadets. That’s not to say the other unmarked ones were irrelevant; as they say, everyone has a role in the military. However, Ivan found the top brass’s decision regarding two specific recruits intriguing.
One had a “Classified” tag assigned to him. Due to security concerns, the recruit’s name was deemed “Top Secret”, a classification he could handle, with him possessing the highest security clearance in the Federation. Ivan looked at the document, and those sapphire eyes instantly gave away his identity–alias or not. Without a doubt, he knew who this boy was, even without any supporting form of identification.
…An image of a soldier with jet-black hair and sparkling sapphire eyes, dressed in a crisp white uniform of the Swans, wielding lightning with ease, resurfaced in his mind.
For the other, he gave an irritated, exaggerated click in his mouth upon noticing the “Special” tag. The short time spent with his mentee had given him a glimpse of what this young man was all about. Ivan had a bad feeling in his gut when he first saw his surname in an email addressed to him. It invoked memories of the past when he was a young researcher looking up to someone he idolised as a hero. He heard the Federation had plans for his mentee, but he could never unveil this information until he proved himself worthy with the trials ahead.
He thought how much of a coincidence was at play when both recruits involved in the same tragedy ended up in the same group. It either was a cruel stroke of fate to reunite two victims or a ploy to make two unknown mortal enemies face each other in combat.
“Sir Ivan, I know you’re up to no good. Before I explain my rationale, I want you to know that I don’t mean that in a disrespectful manner…”
The voice came from the unmistakably feminine Infantry Officer who did not belong on the battlefield. Ivan noticed the MO had accompanied her.
“Sir, you purposely gave us these three recruits so you could have him for yourself.”
“Rest assured that I had no part to play in this grouping,” Ivan replied nonchalantly.
“Why, sir, Recruit Smith isn’t like the man you knew! He might share the blood of his father, but…”
Brenda pleaded with ME5 Newton, who returned an indifferent look.
“...They aren’t the same person!”
“You have a soft spot for him, Lieutenant; so much for trying to be a professional. Only I possess the experience to evaluate him at this conjuncture. Not you. Or the Medical Officer. Both of you stand aside and watch me handle adult business. This is above your paygrade, and both of you better know where you stand. Understand?”
He noticed Lieutenant Reynolds flushing red in embarrassment.
“I said. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir…”
“So, it’s true? You know you could be implicated with a ‘Conflict of Interest’ (COI) charge? I’ll let it slide because I know you’ll sort it out before I involve the senior command.”
“Sir…”
“Hey, hey…That was supposed to be between us. Come on, sir. The young Smith is a genius if we can cultivate his talents!” Boris got into Brenda’s defence and reasoned.
“He has not proved himself. There’s too much risk involved.”
“Risk? There’s no risk. Just let him pass and commission already! There’s nobody else with his talent and brains. The other commands don’t fit him. The task force needs him immediately!”
Ivan blinked rapidly, unsure if the MO knew the implications of his suggestions.
“They can wait. Do you know what you’re saying? We can’t just throw him into that.”
“We need him.”
“That boy is not ready,” Ivan warned direly.
Boris stepped forward. “Our homeland needs us. We are out of time already. I have already signed my name on the dotted line. Have you?”
“Do you know what you have involved yourself in?”
“Even Lieutenant Reynolds has signed it. Captain Pershing, too. And Captain Jessory–”
Ivan glanced at Lieutenant Reynolds, who immediately looked away. “Why? You didn’t even run it through with me first!?!”
“Because that’s the only way for the Federation! What’s taking you so long, sir?”
“Are you challenging me, Dr Pavlov?”
“No, I’m not. There’s no reason for me to challenge you, unless–” Boris placed his hands behind his back and glared maliciously at his superior. “–You’re returning to the South’s side in this conflict.”
“Watch your tongue. I could have you stripped of your rank for insubordination, Dr Pavlov, for insinuating this nonsense,” Ivan warned, his fists clenched.
“Oh, yeah. The President is aware of it already, the son of their “Chosen One” is ready. Then why are you trying so hard to gatekeep young Smith from restarting Project–”
“Stop it! Stop arguing!”
Brenda screamed at her subordinates, not wanting to see them fight over a trivial issue. Both officers looked at each other, rationalising they had crossed the line.
“Lieutenant, take him with you. I will join you all shortly.”
Ivan regained his composure, turning around to use his binoculars to observe the recruits below.
“Alright. Boris, let’s go.”
“...Sir, I’m not done with you.”
“Dr Pavlov. Let’s go.” Brenda grabbed Boris by his arm when he assumed a heated stance. “Now.”
“...Aye.”
As he heard the footsteps of his former cadets descending from the perch, Ivan breathed in slowly to ease his temper, wondering why his thoughts still lingered in the past, where his innocence got crushed by the man he once looked up to. Whatever transpired fourteen years ago had come to pass, yet, he still could not move on. The emotions he held close to his heart as the closest person to Judas weighed heavily on his consciousness, forever latching on to him like an anchor deep in the abyss.
That, after all, was the sin he and his mentee inherited.
“All I ever wanted from you…”
Clenching his spectacles tightly, he spoke sorrowfully.
“...Was an explanation.”
*
Irritated by the slow movement of the A-team, Neptune clicked his tongue and breathed into the comms. No matter how hard he tried to control his nerves, he disliked the complexities of managing a team of soldiers. The emotions and irrationality in the thought processes of humans only serve to infuriate him.
IF only they operated like machines! That would solve all of my problems!
He could not believe his luck, as the situational test assigned to him was the toughest out of the three scenarios he witnessed. Despite sensing foul play, he could not do anything about it. Unlike his batchmates, who he knew would complain about their circumstances, that was not a good solution. The only way forward was to take ownership of whatever happened after the mission brief to make the impossible possible, somehow or some way.
The test given to Neptune consisted of a “terrorist and counteroffensive scenario”. The counteroffensive team had two groups–subgroups A and B–and had to enact a scene where they remained stranded inside an urban warfare building. The first objective is to regroup at a meeting point. Both subgroups had comms set given to them with a time limit to finish it. Once they had reunited at the common point, their second objective was to execute a “cover and move” strategy to escape the building.
Standing as the opposers of this test was the other group of soldiers undertaking the role of the terrorist team. Unlike the counteroffensive team, this team remained as one unit. Their objective was to prevent the opposing team from escaping the building. The flexibility of how they wanted to execute their role rested entirely on the terrorist in charge's shoulders.
At the start of the situational test, where they gathered in the well-trimmed grassy fields, Neptune had surveyed the recruits in his group, quickly classifying them as idiots. He hoped this test would be like a walk in the park until someone stood across from him.
“Hey, you.”
To add insult to injury, the sapphire-eyed soldier ignored and walked past him like he was invisible. This deeply fueled his desire to stand tall above his rival before closing the chapter on the GMT. The setting of the situational test grouping by the commanders, allowing him to dance with his challenger at the final test, where they stand at opposing ends, felt strangely prophetic.
Neptune led the tactical manoeuvre with the subgroup behind, knowing his date with destiny drew closer with each step. Even the physical toil inflicted earlier would not impede him from achieving greatness.
Meanwhile, the terrorists–in role only–remained hidden as a blade sheathed from the world, observing the counteroffensive team complete their first objective. They received a simple order: wait for the opposing team to execute their “cover and move” strategy.
The terrorist team’s overwatch reported the latest status to the group. The Overwatch team had laid prone on the rooftop with two other soldiers, rifle at the ready, watching the other team’s movement with an eagle’s focus, his finger ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Black, huh?
Kairos thought how ridiculous the proxy surname his uncle assigned didn’t raise any red flags amongst his fellow soldiers. The surname was a clear giveaway as a fake one, but nobody probed him on it. It wasn’t until he met that soldier in the library that someone finally acknowledged his true status. He had since made the right call to stay as far away as possible, not to blow his disguise.
Breathing in slowly, Kairos couldn’t comprehend how coincidental he and that soldier had ended up in the same situational test group–let alone a test where they both found each other on opposing ends. There appeared to be manipulation from the commanders, but it remained too farfetched of a conspiracy to consider. Regardless, this soldier had kept hounding him since that day–from sending a sidekick to stalk him–to ruthlessly staring at him on several nights in Pelican Reservoir.
…However, if that soldier possessed a blood link to the legendary researcher, it would change everything.
He also discovered another odd coincidence in his assessment group, where one particular accessor stood out. Not the female officer who looked like a propaganda showpiece. Neither was it the talkative doctor who can’t keep his thoughts to himself. The one who captured his attention was that soldier with the military engineer rank and that immaculate lab coat only a researcher would wear as the pride of their life’s work that he stashed away in his bag. With keen eyes, he spotted a lone item in the military engineer’s possession that gave his identity away. Those spectacles he wore that carried a mark he recognised from his youth.
That unmistakable coat of arms belonged to one of the Tempus Guards.
“Newton.”
His childhood friend’s elder brother, who remained stuck in the North since the New Atlantis Project, had somehow aligned himself with the Federation. The impenetrable access code remained bound within their highly sought-after genetic sequence.
He had calculated the chances of that blood bond but decided against it. If he had family, they would likely have received persecution–the extremity of a death sentence was possible.
“It’s time to end this, Smith,” Kairos spoke only one sentence as he steadied himself, his tone as cold as the Tundralands.
<“Roger that, T Team, let’s move out. Toss a smoke grenade in their path from both directions.”>
Kairos reached into the back of his ILBV for a Swiss army knife (SOG).
All the terrorist team needed was the smoke to cause a blinding effect on the opposing team. After spending the last five days in Pelican Reservoir, this experience allowed him to witness the other soldiers’ lack of composure. With the smoke grenades doing their magic, obfuscating their vision would be no different from the soldiers panicking in the pitch-black darkness of the night.
The canister’s sound rolling into the room that the counteroffensive team occupied sounded like a chime–a symphony of the end for his opponents.
Kairos reminded his team again, pausing before dashing forward at a speed that rendered him invisible.
<...Alone. Provide me with the necessary cover…>
The counteroffensive team started to move fluidly, teetering on the edge of overconfidence as they executed the “cover and move” strategy taught by their field commanders days ago.
Suddenly, a distinct sound of chimes–something rolling on the floor–caught his attention as Neptune heard a chime, catching something silver entering his peripheral vision.
“...What’s that?”
In a split second, as his team noticed the canister, loud wails amplified by the comms combined with the proximity of several idiots screaming ruptured his eardrums.
“...What?!”
His team's strategy of moving to the next room was disrupted, and they broke formation. Chaos set in, the same disharmony that had occurred the night the heavens punished the living with torrential rain. Cold sweat broke out as he stood there, stunned by his rival's superior tactics.
The team started to disperse in every direction. Some ran forward. Some stumbled backwards. In all, it was utter pandemonium. Bedlam, truest to its name.
His team ignored his command and scattered like the wind, running away from the canister. That’s when reality hit him like a truck. The past three days of field camp, until a day ago, he had spent every waking moment in the medical shed. His combat knowledge had stagnated while everyone else learned something new. Looking down, he saw the canister emitting what seemed to be a cloud of white mist as it dawned upon him–again.
“I’ve lost.”
In quick succession, another canister rolled in. His team became cloaked in the clouds of white mist in an adjacent room. Within seconds, he heard the chorus of screams filled with the firing of dummy shots.
Another sound of a blank.
This time, it wasn’t the sound of someone firing a blank. Instead, it sounded like a master swordsman brandishing a sharpened edge on the battlefield. The precise, swift slashes created a whirling sound of calmness, a serene end, for those who met their demise by the swordman’s mercy.
The white mist enveloped Neptune, leaving him dazed.
“...Why is life so unfair?”
Neptune lamented when he heard footsteps approaching him ahead.
“...Tell me why?”
The sounds of two shots of blanks fired filled his eardrums.
“Why am I so unlucky? Why wasn’t I born…”
The room, enveloped by the white mist, created the perfect cover for anyone to execute a flawless assassination. The colours of white appeared like a sea, representing the endless victories Neptune could achieve as a hero.
On his path to glory, someone stood in his way. And no matter how hard he tried, he always fell short against what seemed like divine intervention, preventing a mere mortal from besting those blessed by him. That someone, the figure approaching him with silent steps, had come into full view, his visage barely visible, with one thing standing out–the sapphire-blue eyes piercing through the ash-white smoke.
“...A Temporean.”
As though he had given up on everything, laughter erupted maniacally from the bottomless traphole within. He had long given up, for this Ascended, who could have ended it any other way, had chosen an elaborate path of complexity to end him.
With a voice dripping with loathing for the first Atlanteans, Neptune howled into the mist that enveloped him. “To this moment, you never acknowledged my existence!”
His team can eliminate themselves for all he cares because he would perform one final act of defiance–even if it would drag him and his rival down together in the abyss.
“Kairos Black!”
He felt the floating figure pausing hesitantly, seemingly shocked by his brilliance in discovering his name.
“I know your secret!”
Neptune watched the Ascended disappear into the white mist, allowing it to cover him as he stalked his prey.
“You are a Temporean, aren’t you?!”
Still, the Ascended did not say a word.
“You say nothing? Are you too high up your ass to acknowledge me as a human? Is this what the first Atlanteans view their livestock as?”
Another long silence ensued.
“You are getting on my nerves, but I know why you’re here!”
Neptune spat saliva onto the ground, ready to unleash the evilest slander he had thought of. There could only be one reason why this Temporean had to serve in the military and accept a certain fate of death.
“You are a bastard, aren’t you?! You are not one of them, just a bastard child born to a Temporean who couldn’t control his urges! That’s why you have received the order to die–”
Before his mind could process the sentence’s end, Neptune watched in awe as the Ascended dashed forward without a sound, his eyes intensifying as it created a dazzling sapphire-blue streak, moving faster than the limits of human speed, finishing him with the sound of a knife swiping his uniform in a soft slick. Neptune couldn’t see or hear the shot that took him out. He had witnessed the sheer depth between him and his rival firsthand.
With that, victory belonged to the terrorist team.
From a distance, Neptune could hear another team screaming in joy, celebrating the victory.
“We won!”
“Yes!”
Neptune stood with his eyes plastered wide open after getting humbled. He could not find the right words as the smoke started to thin out, revealing the Ascended standing before him.
“I have to give it to you to discover my name.”
Neptune could not process the Ascended’s words, his brain still trying to process his rival’s one-sided victory.
“You did not need to lose your cool over something as trivial as my name. Also, let me clarify something. I’m not a bastard.”
Kairos gave a blank expression as the words left his mouth. He noticed the tension subsiding and Neptune’s shoulders sagging once again.
“Wh-what?! I’m so sorry!” Caught by surprise, Neptune stuttered.
“Also, I should apologise for that day when I stood you up. I need to come clean with why I did so.”
Kairos squatted down, patting Neptune on his shoulders. He had always wanted to explain his rationale for leaving him high and dry.
“Why-why are you apologising after all I’ve done…?”
“That book I left you,” Kairos lowered his face, “It’s an important day to me. The truth is…I want to forget that day, but I can’t. I lost too much on that day.”
Neptune watched Kairos suppress himself from bearing his emotional state.
“And I’m sure you have lost a lot, too.”
“How do you…”
“Before that, we have to come to a common consensus.”
Neptune nodded.
“The Federation is hiding the truth of what happened.”
Neptune choked on his words, tears starting to swell as he finally found someone who acknowledged the hidden iceberg beneath their homeland’s official narrative.
“At first, I did not want to take the gamble. There was no way someone from his lineage survived. But then, after the earlier events, I knew I had to.”
“Gamble…?”
Kairos's expression turned serious as he began to choke up. He wanted to believe in the impossible.
“I want to know something.” Kairos swallowed hard. “No, I must know.”
Kairos knew if the next question he asked didn’t elicit a desired response, he would return to square one–not coming close to closure. Still, he resolved himself to ask.
“Professor Jordan Smith, the author of the New Atlantis Project book, is he your father?”
Neptune, who had held back his tears, started to unleash the emotions he had bottled up for his entire life. He had endured several years of pent-up sadness, knowing that the Federation had lied to him since day one. All of the memories of his father, Jordan Smith, returned to him like an avalanche falling from the mountain’s peak.
His loved ones had denied his father’s existence.
The system had denied him.
Everyone had denied and profited from his father’s work.
Neptune looked up at Kairos, knowing he finally found someone who believed in the truth. The Federation might have hidden what truly transpired from the masses, but the pain and agony remained in the victims’ hearts to fuel their adrenaline in pursuing the truth.
“...Yes, Jordan Smith is my–he was my father.”
Kairos, for the first time in years, felt hope. An opportunity to finally regain his birthright had appeared. The missing pieces of his puzzle had shown themselves. His face, which usually gave a calm, indifferent visage, turned into one that resembled hope as a spark of newfound inspiration lit up the blue flames within him.
“...That means…”
“My father was the lead researcher of the New Atlantis Project.”
“...The Federation is hiding the truth of what happened from its people. We’re fighting a needless war for no reason. But, it’s too late for that. The Drazen Empire is coming and we have no chance but to fight.” Kairos lifted his head and breathed in a solid chunk of air.
“I don’t sound that crazy anymore. Also, I have a question.”
“Go ahead. I’ll answer to the best of my ability.”
Neptune took a moment to steady himself before speaking. “Why is your surname–”
Kairos kept mum, thinking of the best answer without showing his hand. Neptune immediately noticed Kairos’s shift in behaviour and frantically waved his hand.
“–I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I lost my birthright fourteen years ago.”
Neptune paused upon hearing that bombshell.
Fourteen years ago…? Wait, isn’t that?
“...Don’t tell me?”
“You’re not the only one who lost someone important. And yes, it’s related to that.”