"Granary, rooftop, do you see private Dan Sage?" the uplifted Central Command asked through someone's radio.
Dan Sage? The guardian on the rooftop had heard this name before, yet he did not answer the call. The officer's tone, as quiet as it came through another radio, annoyed him. The coldness of the Tactical Unit was a thing of legends: they were trained not to give a shit because emotions and good tactical decisions did not mix.
Still, the guardian wanted to bring the Tactical Unit on tour across the facets of reality not visible on the abstract holographic screens. He wanted to show them the grim and disheartening sights behind the dry statistics: the smoldering ruins of the Gatehouse Area, the millions of bodies molded together, and the orange silhouettes of the scarred skyscrapers from all sides. He wanted to make them feel what he felt: emptiness and unease. The city still burned. Pax Turrets were still stationary. Aeon Shield was still gone.
The guardian looked at the cadets around him. As far as they knew, Aeon Shield was transparent, and the blackness they saw over the Wall all these years was the void. He could not fathom what they must have felt now, seeing a whole new hostile world ignite beyond the Wall and lash out at them. They took care of the attack, but what else could be in the Twilight? Occasionally, the cadets glanced at the new unfamiliar reflections in the Sky surrounding their city from all sides. The guardian followed their gaze and saw rocks, mountains, and ravines that dimly glowed orange with burning landships and artillery of Lepers, casting long shadows into Twilight.
Twilight now fully deserved its name. It was not a dark void. It was something, and it was nothing good.
"Somebody, please find Dan Sage, dead or alive, and report back."
Again with the names! Does anyone care about the names anymore? Whoever entered the battle before was not an individual now. Covered in molten, cooled-off steel and stone, as well as dust, dirt, and blood, they became indistinguishable from one another, united by the common, horrific experience. Together, they looked like a sculpture to themselves and felt the same way. Nobody wanted to speak or do anything. They wanted to stay silent and motionless for as long as they could to heal. The Blazon of Libra above them, the orange holographic reminder of their hollow victory, was the only thing moving, spinning around itself, casting long dark shadows from the cadets.
"Dan Sage?" somebody called out loud in a shy voice.
The voice made the Guardian wince. He preferred the quiet radio.
"Dan Sage?" called the voice again, more confident.
He would not stop, would he? The guardian stood up like a statue coming to life, pieces of cooled-off rock and steel flaking off him. He went to shut the caller up, who now braced himself as if expecting a punch. Good instincts. The guardian indeed had an irrational desire to punch him, but he would not do it, of course. Instead, he stopped a couple of feet away from him.
"Yeah?"
"Dan Sage?"
"Yup. What do you want?"
"I want nothing. The Central wants you. I'll put you on speaker. Central, I found Sage."
"Dan Sage?" a relieved voice came from the speaker.
The healing silence was dead. All the statues were forced to come back to life and do something. They reported back to their units. Many could not reach their sergeants and had to ask the irritatingly-cheery Central for a reassignment.
"Did my father make it?" asked Dan.
"He did!" said the Central. "He reported from the Gatehouse five minutes ago. Do you want to send him a message?"
YOU ARE READING
Mirror Sky. Part 1 - Blissful Nemesis
Science FictionThe future is predetermined. It can't be changed. But who casts the future in stone? It's you, me, and every one of us. The iron grip of our fate doesn't come from gods or physics but from us. You are oppressed by your future self to walk the one an...
