x
The ever-present symbol of Sub Terra was a fist rising out of Earth. Defiance had been stitched on every uniform, every banner, and emblazoned on a gargantuan, widescreen television monitor. In this case, it was also a screensaver mounted over a platform some feet above the floor. The platform convexed outward like a stage, to a hall full of diligent uniforms: theirs were the arms and eyes of a rebel gallery.
Jessica wondered how rebellion might work in reality. Banner and banner to the left and right, the mark of resistance was weighted by the promise of sacrifice. She caught a glimpse of it in the forest, and it was dour... mildly put. Reality had placed hundreds more men and women on the bottom of the underground base, chins upturned to the platform in mega anticipation. They probably knew all about sacrifice, so served a cause interconnected by resolve.
Nothing less could have drawn them to this life.
Wherever there was a cause, there was authority—why Jessica carried her gaze to Monarch. Alongside him, on the sturdy platform, a few notable characters stood before the crowd. Sub Terra's insignia at their backs helped project some gravitas. By acquaintance or deduction, she could guess every single one of their identities.
Monarch: commander of the New Sumer cell, possibly the biggest cell in the territory. He still sported a Sicario suit, tying himself to the grunts below. A soldier, first and foremost, yet exuded clout.
A mystery man stood next to him. Shallow creases on his sun-tanned complexion placed a wizened soul, yet not as wise as one could go. Like the asymmetry of their surroundings, he had an unkempt beard, but his blue eyes were sharp, like the dark-collared uniform that embraced his lean figure. So far as the meeting concerned itself, there was nothing more formal. And as far as Jessica could guess, this was Commander Wessex.
Then there was Amon, still wearing sunglasses inside. He had to be more important than Jessica originally conceived. Despite his behavior, he had a very controlled gait and poise, both of which came naturally. He had the quirks of a hacktivist in conjunction with a warrior's presence. Those sunglasses might have been the prop to an act... or maybe they saw through clothes.
On a stool, apart from the Sun-Terra higher-ups, sat a stranger wrapped in a trench coat, sunglasses, and endless bandages. There may have been skin under his coverings, but aside from his height, his features blended into the background.
Together, the leaders' esteem reflected in the stance of Sub Terra. Approximately half of the cliques from the previous tunnel mob had assembled into perfect columns that put their surrounding symmetry to shame. Lines of clean green, red and grime, dark blues and greys: uniforms, jumpsuits, and military kit. At the behest of the columns, next to the platform edge, several officers had formed a line. Among them stood Raptor, Beelz, and Boros.
Many more Sub Terrans anxiously waited near the one-way tunnel, those who belonged to other cells. Theirs were the familiar faces Jessica met underneath the city: The motley crew, the eager troop from the nexus, Chris, Dissent, and more. Contrary to them and everyone else, Jessica sat cross-legged, back to the wall, inconspicuously spectating. Her little corner where she tried but failed to avoid the stereotypical introvert role, made worse by the absent look in her eye. With all essential personnel present, Monarch commenced.
"Let's get right down to it. At roughly 0100 hours yesterday, a batch of groundbreaking intel fell into our hands."
That's one way of putting it.
"Observe."
On the large screen, detailed isometric renderings of New Sumer spun before the rebel throng. 8,000 Pixels of architectural precision. Within that detailed panorama, several strokes of holographic red pulsed.
"Asgard has started funneling into the city, which is still reeling from the Fourth of July terrorist attack. That would explain why people have accepted these haphazard changes. Maybe, they believe it's temporary. Unfortunately, the build-up isn't confined to New Sumer."
Commander Wessex then stepped forward and commandeered the crowd with a low, throaty pitch. "Pine Rim brought greater ripples than we anticipated." The mega screen backed into a top-down view of New Sumer. "Our little incursion on 15 and Superhighway 220 did nothing to placate matters. Among the dead, local law enforcement identified two Azarean civilians."
Agents, you mean.
"Unsurprisingly, the Azareans have adeptly weaved their web of lies. From the data that Amon and Dissent sifted through, we discovered that Spearhead is mass-producing military-grade weapons. Our fear is, they will establish operational strongholds near independent territories carved by the Geneva Terrestrial Accord. Thanks to recent events, rumors of an insurgency—even on the fringes of Eden sprawl—could lead to a hostile foreign policy. Goliath, being a private entity, needs permission, or an invitation, to tread Union-free soil."
Asgard can't just march into the city, so Goliath orchestrated this terrorist incident to get authorization. They'll pretend they're here to protect people, but they're looking for Sub Terra... They've gained public favor...
"Of course, nobody knows the truth," Wessex continued. "The sight of militarized police will be the norm before long. Has anyone kept tabs on Camstagram headlines?"
There's still no accounting for SK-3's weaknesses.
"It only gets worse." Amon stepped to. With his phone, he filled the screen with screenshot after screenshot of populated hangar bays; aliens and humans were assembled in military uniforms. "The government placed the Azarean Expedition Front on standby. These images from a recruit's private device confirm deployment preparations on the Baldur Space Station. More images are surfacing across social media. The following hashtags are trending: #NewSumer #pinerim #neverforget ##asgard #azareansftw #won. Inside information has been scarce ever since our primary informant was compromised."
Informant?
"Lynx..."
Jessica lifted her gaze to Wessex, who extended a beckoning arm and a half-hearted grin.
"Monarch tells me our strategy owes itself to your struggle. For that, you should stand and be recognized," he said.
Warily, very warily, so warily that her bones were stone, Jessica stood up and carried her legs to the platform. All eyes on her, she swallowed her train of thought, and, upon lifting her right foot onto the platform, likened the scenario to Commencement. Only instead of students, it was a mature audience of resistance warriors. And instead of school faculty, these were military chiefs who could be charged with treason. It seemed a little bit out of the norm for a teenager.
Wessex threw his voice. "Our intel came through valiant and coordinated sacrifice, ladies and gents. One civilian has survived and made retaliation against the regime and the Azarean private sector possible. Treat her as an honorary member who will be invaluable to our efforts, moving forward."
When the hell did I sign up?
The room responded with a loud and uniform salute, which brought back the knots in Jessica's back.
"Every division must stand in synch for what comes next," the commander continued. "Meticulous coordination is the key to dismantling the first Spearhead installation. Intel will handle the insertion points and ground routes, but we'll need to be resourceful if we hope to consolidate—"
Jessica flinched out of anxiety. "Hold on! Slow your role for a second?"
Brow up high, Wessex anchored his middle-aged mug for Jessica. "What is on your mind, Lynx?
"Where's your plan to take down Goliath?"
"We're in the middle of that."
"No—nonono. Where's the...
"Where's your plan to bring down Goliath Headquarters?"
ns 15.158.61.51da2
