The inadequacy of Lieutenant Brenda Reynolds was on display as her troopers had to step in multiple times to readjust the impromptu mission’s flow. After they exhausted their leads on where the terrorists could hide, Neptune finally had enough, stepping into the fray and doing what no recruit has ever done.

  “Ma’am, we should look for Batch 77.”

  “Batch 77? Why?”

  He could not reveal his true intentions and chose to tell a white lie.

  “They would form a great alliance with us.”

  That’s never going to work–

  “Let’s change plans; we head to the holding area.”

  Before Neptune could complete his monologue, he watched the infantry soldiers, adorning their light-green berets, charge forward, leaving him stranded with his mental state in a mess. If the standards of the UAFAF had sunk to this level, there was no way the Federation could survive tonight. And if they did…

  …Would they survive the Drazen Empire?

  “We’re doomed.”

  *

  “A recruit did that?! How…?!”

  After navigating to a silent corner to strategise, Brenda faced Neptune upon hearing the news from another platoon commander that a recruit had done the unimaginable. They suspected this recruit was none other than Kairos, who had led his batchmates away from the holding area. Neptune suspected Kairos had long made the precise tactical move to deal with the potential terrorist by his uncanny foresight.

  “Could it be that he sensed the terrorist attack?” Neptune speculated.

  “No, it can’t be. How did the recruit know?” It dawned upon Brenda that if Batch 77 were to enter combat against the terrorists, the outcome would be disastrous. “We need to find Batch 77. Now!”

  “I got a question, ma’am.”

  Brenda started panicking, her bravado turning shaky. The nerves had gotten to her.

  “C-carry on.”

  “How are we going to find Batch 77? ”

  “Let me contact Lieutenant Nicola.” Brenda took out her walkie-talkie and tried to make a call, but to no avail. She then whipped out her phone to call the Security Officer but received the same response. “Why is it not working?!”

  “Ma’am, I believe the lines are disrupted.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since earlier when I tried to contact someone–oh no…” Neptune started to feel his guts swelling.

  “What ‘oh no’?”

  “Bray…”

  “Recruit Rotunda?”

  Neptune realised Bray must have reached the same conclusion. Due to their lack of communication devices, there was no way for them to liaise and update each other once they completed their respective tasks.

  “Recruit Rotunda was the one who informed me of the suspected terrorist attack. I figured it would be wise to split up and find you and Dr Pavlov respectively.”

  “What?! How did Recruit Rotunda learn of the terrorist attack?”

  “Even I don’t know.” Neptune lowered his gaze.

  “You understand that without a reliable means of communication, you both are stuck….”

  A mission that would remain uncompleted until they established contact.

  “...On opposite ends.”

  “Ma’am, may I?”

  One of the troopers raised his hands to catch his commander’s attention, recalling the security brief from earlier.

  “Carry on, Corporal.”

  “Ma’am, if you said draw arms and weapons, only one place in the stadium fits the description. We should head there now.”

  “Where is this place?”

  “The armory room. The Armskote IC has set up shop with his crew at one of the hall’s meeting rooms.”

  “We have a map here.” Another trooper passed it to his commander and rejoined the ranks.

  “Roger that. Everyone, are you ready?” Brenda adjusted her beret, facing her team. “Let’s move out!”

  “““Yes, ma’am!”””

  Upon arriving at the armoury, Brenda could not believe the scene that greeted her eyes. The armoury had all its weapons drawn out with the crates and display empty. And the armskote men were busy playing chess and eating snacks to pass the time, oblivious to the impending calamity.

  “Wh-what are you guys doing?!”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “We’re out of guns.” The armskote IC gave her a puzzled look as he snacked on a piece of nachos. “What else do you want?”

  “What do you mean you have run out of guns?! Whatever happened to the weapons on standby? I demand an answer now!”

  “We only prepared 180 batches worth of guns.” Sergeant Tanesh, the Armskote IC, explained himself.

  “You’re kidding me,” Brenda grabbed the armskote papers filled with signatures from the graduating recruits. She furiously inspected it, noticing an error, “You say 180 batches, but why are there additional weapons on the list? Where are they?”

  “As I said, all weapons are drawn and accounted for. We had the Medical Corps come over to draw them–”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Brenda inspected the armskote paper and immediately recognised Boris’s signature–the typical scribble-like drawing doctors. She lost her cool as her lips curled into a nasty snarl at the Armskote IC’s negligence. “Why in the world are medics drawing arms?! The Medical Corps are not allowed to draw arms! How could you have allowed them?”

  “I was just following orders. The Medical Officer told me to issue weapons for them. He also said he could not explain why because of security reasons.” Sergeant Tanesh answered, remembering the MO’s urgency.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Neptune cheekily found a way to infiltrate the conversation.

  Sergeant Thinesh looked at Neptune quizzically. “What’s the matter?”

  “Sergeant, was there a recruit with them?”

  “I remember that guy, he was the one leading the Medical Corps. He had a cool call sign.”

  “Thank god.”

  Neptune recalled a book he read in his study room regarding call signs. These call signs often carried a trait of the soldier or to embody something. In some cases, the responsibility of shouldering the namesake of a legendary figure. However, he still had time to think of one worthy of his intellect and ambitions.

  “Sergeant, how about Batch 77?”

  “Ma’am, as I said, all the batches have–hold up,” Sergeant Tanesh grabbed the master weapon list and used his finger to scroll through each batch’s signature. “They are the only batch that drew the weapons before Batch 1.”

  “I need to see it for myself.” Brenda snatched the list and scanned through it, verifying that Batch 77 had drawn their weapons several hours before the start of the ceremony. She returned the list to Sergeant Tanesh before whipping out her phone, hoping to get a miraculous signal. “It’s still not working. Of all the time for it not to work, it had to be today.”

  “The signal hasn’t worked since an hour ago. Luckily, the armskote room has a machine connected to the intranet–”

  “Why did you not say it earlier?” Brenda had forgotten that all armskote rooms came equipped with a separate connection to the intelligence branch at headquarters.

  “Yes, we do. The Medical Officer used it to contact intelligence earlier to inform them of a ‘potential attack’, his words, not mine.”

  Brenda heaved a sigh of relief, thanking the heavens for Boris’s ability to perform under pressure. “Sergeant, do you have any idea where Batch 77 went?”

  “No, ma’am. They drew the weapons alongside their commander and left without saying further. They looked like they were in a rush–”

  “Their commander?”

  “The only thing I know is she made them execute a force preparation.” Sergeant Tanesh pointed to an empty corner outside the armskote room through the window.

  As the two got deeper into their conversation, the loudspeaker system connected throughout the stadium started relaying a message, informing the soldiers of the impending doom.

  “Batch 180, get ready to proceed!”

  Time had passed so quickly that every male recruit involved in the graduation ceremony had made their way to the fields–unknowingly walking into their death sentence. Neptune gave her an acknowledging nod to fill her soul with courage. A small gesture that would give her the will to shoulder a heavy responsibility. It was now or never, as Brenda remembered the vow she had taken to receive her formation patch.

  “...Team, do we have sufficient ammunition?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But we have a problem.”

  “Speak up.”

  “Each of us has two magazines.”

  On a day when their homeland celebrated, those tasked with safeguarding had insufficiently prepared for the worst contingency. Not that the ones involved could ever dream of a terrorist attack. But it still showed their lack of experience.

  Brenda recognised the earbuds inside their ILBVs. “What else do we need?”

  “Ma’am, may I?”

  “Go ahead, Recruit Smith.”

  “I think the strategy is simple.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “Since the Medical Officer informed the intelligence branch an hour ago, I presume help is coming. If we stagger the time he called to now, we’ll have some backup arriving soon. All we have to do is hold up.” Neptune knew hope was not the best strategy, but with time running out, it didn’t help to wish for the best outcome. “We need to hope that backup comes soon.”

  “We will follow your strategy.”

  Turning to face the soldiers she commanded, Brenda swept her hand forward and the soldiers under her charge stood at attention.

  “Everyone, you heard Recruit Smith. We will employ an evacuation strategy–the priority is to ensure every civilian in the stands makes it to safety. Through this, we hope to establish contact with Batch 77.”

  Brenda took a paper from her pocket to write and draw the summary of the mission brief. The scribbles were barely readable, but the drawing was clear enough for clarity purposes.

  “Our next priority goes to the female recruits in the holding area,” Brenda ordered, knowing how the female soldiers would never stand a chance against terrorists with their service-level training.

  “If everything goes according to plan, backup from the intelligence branch will arrive. Let’s hope there’s no terrorist attack…” With all the heart she could muster, Brenda spoke in a low tone, befitting one harbouring hope in her soul. “That’s the only thing we can do now.”

  With the lack of standard-issue military weaponry, the armskote soldiers had to rely on ineffective weapons like knives and handguns. The infantry troopers were the only soldiers with rifles, but their limited ammo meant a prolonged counteroffensive would spell trouble.

  “Ma’am, do you want a pistol?”

  “I’ll need one. Any other weapons you have?”

  “Mini handgun or a knife, ma’am?”

  “No thanks.” Brenda then turned to face Neptune, who seemed like a scholar standing with his hands behind his back. “What about you, Recruit Smith?”

  Neptune maintained a blank face, lifting his hands to feign weakness, knowing Brenda’s soft spot for him would never allow him to participate in combat. He knew he had to strategically utilise every physiological technique to defend himself from fighting, a skill he learned from military officials in history. He knew those at the apex of the food chain never participated in their battles. They would send the soldiers under them to fight, protecting themselves from losing their lives and ensuring they reap the benefits of victory. After all, history was written by the victors–the survivors and instigators of conflict.

  “You will join us in gathering all the civilians and female recruits. Next, we locate Batch 77 to regroup with them. And finally, we will regroup and escort them out of the stadium to safety. Everyone, do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am! Understood!”

  As the foolish combatants readied themselves for a dance with death, Neptune grinned opportunistically. He would do anything to ensure his survival, even if he had to manipulate his showpiece of a commander with subtle gestures and voice tones.

  “Let’s move out!”