Chapter 7 - The stage

  The warm darkness surrounded Joe, the normally painfully stiff mattress now allowing him to sink in as if he was being hugged, the blanket over him conformed to keep his feet toasty while his body was not uncomfortably hot. The many bricks (described as pillows) Joe had used over the many years of working had been replaced with a fabric as soft as what he imagined dove feathers to feel. Joe was tranquil.

  “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” A piercing alarm echoed out from the room.

  “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!”

  “No…” Joe mumbled softly as he folded the divinely crafted pillow around his head.

  “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” Another string of beeps followed the blinding surgical white lights, illuminating the barracks in a deep red with each beep. “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!”. A wave of tired grunts and annoyed groans almost overpowered the dreaded alarm, however nothing could match it.

  “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!”. Cracking open an eye and giving his sight the time to adjust, Joe saw the other soldiers of IZ-213 rise out of the soft beds. Letting out a low angry growl, he finally sat up while almost instantly his back was assaulted by the cold air, causing him to shiver and grit his teeth. The barracks were laid out in the typical Falling Mountains style that Joe had spent many tiring months living in; a long room with single beds lining the walls, each bed a single, with a lockable desk and chair fixed to the floor next to it. On the other side of the bed, a bedside table was fastened. Finally, at the foot of the bed, a lockable set of drawers stood. Although you could put anything anywhere, the soldiers would typically just put their suits in the drawers and their limited personal items on the desk. Joe was not an exception to the rule, as when he looked down, the glossy black glass of his helmet stared back at him, sitting on the top of the drawers.

  “GEEEETT UUUPPPPP!” the booming voice of the second lieutenant Cook rang in Joe’s still groggy mind.

  Turning his body to face the door, along with the rest of the men in the room, he looked at the armoured man standing in the doorway. Puffing out his chest, Cook gazed at the still dazed men like they were mud on the bottom of his shoe. Under his right arm, the angular helmet spilled its red glow on his side, bathing the black graphene in colour. The second lieutenant held up a small rectangular glass sheet. The transparent screen displayed a red alarm icon that shook in time with the beeping.

  “STAND UUUUPPPP!” he yelled again, his brown eyes darting to each soldier that he felt that didn't move fast enough. His gaze lingered on Joe for a while. In response to his stare Joe narrowed his eyes while he glared back, the glint of superiority in his eye pissed Joe off. Rolling his tongue across his top row of teeth, he contemplated his next actions wisely. In his sleep deprived head, the best course of action would of course be to tell the bastard to turn off the alarm and to fuck off. Just as the stares drew long enough to get the attention of the others who have now stood up from their beds who silently observed the two, Cook’s eyes narrowed. Joe’s mind however, caught up to the current situation and realised how bad this situation could turn, so with a grunt he stood up from the bed breaking eye contact. A grin split open across Cook’s face, and he pressed the button silencing the alarm. The platoon leader let the quiet settle for a couple seconds as he lowered his hand painfully slowly.

  “Get ready in ten minutes and meet me in the corridor. I've already woken up the women so get a move on.” Cook spoke with a commanding voice, his grin melting into a stern scowl and pierced lips. Cook turned around with a loud click of his boots slamming together, then proceeded to walk out of the men’s barracks; leaving the still groggy and annoyed soldiers.

  Cook stood at the door to his private room given to all platoon leaders, looking through one way glass at the people gathering in the corridor. Only eight minutes had passed since he woke up the men so he was slightly disappointed in seeing not everyone ready five minutes early. That's what he had to deal with when he was in their position. Looking at the clock sitting on the desk it ticked gradually, the face was one from the old world, a round disk with twelve numbers spaced evenly around, while three digital hands moved at different speeds. He thought back to the man who told him how to read the old world clock, his father.

  “I just need to get through this deployment then I'll get the promotion, everything will change after that.” Steve spoke to himself as he donned his helmet, it hissing at its closure. The old style clock read 03:48. He did plan on making the squad do a couple laps of the training hall to get them all in the correct headspace for the briefing, but it being on the opposite end of the base meant he wouldn't have enough time to get to the briefing. He instinctively put his hand to the bridge of his nose but was blocked by the helmet.

  “Fuck sake” he muttered looking around, although he was alone he still made sure no one was around to see his slight fumble. After scanning the lonely room his gaze landed out of the window, where he saw the twenty four people standing like statues. A small feeling of hope started to bubble but he put an end to that quickly by shaking his head and opening the door.

  Lisa almost fell asleep standing, she didn't know if it was the new beds or the current situation exhausting her even more but she had a good night's sleep. Of course it was ruined, and now her willpower struggled to keep her body and mind from falling asleep again. Out from the private platoon leader's room, Cook marched out. Apart from a brief inspection where not many words were said, within five minutes of the company fully assembled they were marching through the corridors in the early hours of the day.

  The route blended into one corridor in Joe and Lisa’s mind, it was most likely the same for the others who were fighting off the tiredness. What made Lisa smirk was how no matter what base, housing block or any Falling Mountains owned building they had the same awful design. Her entire life had been spent within the Falling Mountains company so she had developed the ability to tell most paths apart from one another, she usually would but that would require some brainpower that she did not want to use. The group's path, led by Cook, ended as they climbed up two flights of stairs and across another bland corridor. The squad abruptly stopped before two double doors with pink text marking the room as AU-01.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Alright here is the auditorium, head inside and find our row, we should be near the front.” Steve opened the heavy door and kept it open for the soldiers to move inside. As the first soldier walked through the doors the dark room lit up with warm lights while the sound of the air conditioning fans spinning, softly purred. The semicircular hall was layered with three steep sections that extended down to the stage at the front. With two staircases splitting the layered segments into 3 slices, the platoon made their way down the left most staircase keeping an eye out for their platoons allotted seats. The chairs were hard plastic with a slither of red padding on the seat and back as the armrests were bare of cushioning, the chairs were all folded up to leave a small path for someone to walk down each aisle.

  As Lisa entered she shuffled her way down the stairs and continued the human train snaking down the two stories worth of stairs. After slowly getting to the aisle named IZ-213 she shimmied toward the next open chair and pulled down the seat. With the seat moving down, she looked at the base of the back of the chair. Like an infection the lower half was morphed into metal where a spike awaited inside the central hole, lights and other embossed mapping of wires decorated the spinal lock giving it a more menacing look. Lisa’s heart skipped a beat once the warm lighting of the room caught the sharp point of the lock. Swallowing her anxiety, she turned to sit. Surprisingly the chair was fairly comfortable as the aerogel like cushion padded her weight to great degree.

  “Spinal lock detected… Accepting spinal lock." The red text covered her vision while a small hiss of air releasing pushed the metal spike into her back, with a final click she was locked into her seat.

  “Neck down stasis: Initiated” the text reappeared, quickly followed by the lack of feeling. First to go numb was her feet then hands, legs, arms and finally her torso. Putting some effort in lifting her arm off of the armrest, it was futile as it refused to follow her commands. Lisa moved her head and scanned the room; apart from her platoon members sitting beside her, the room was empty but not in the same barrenness The falling mountains buildings usually radiated but it was relatively homely and warm. The yellow- orange light bathed the room in its light, rather than having bright underlighting burning the shadows away from below, the shadows were allowed to exist, contrasting the light with their dark depths.

  At the epicenter of the room a large stage nestled itself a couple meters along the far wall. The elevated stage was large enough to fit around about 20 people standing side by side. Interestingly the floor was tiled in faux wood, mimicking oak. Following the same red fabric as the chairs, two crimson curtains were tied off at the edges of the stage.

  The following fourty-ish minutes were mind-numbing, unlike when she was on the train sitting next to Joe. Lisa was sitting next to a medic called Thorn, a quiet man who had his own group within the platoon. Although they did not dislike each other they still didn't want to talk. Gradually the room filled with platoons that filtered in silently. Apart from the sound of the spinal locks shooting forward and small muttering, the room was still silent. At 4:25 the doors at the back of the room closed with a thud, causing the little chatter to cut out like a switch.

  “AI, local scan of allies. 50 meters." Lisa whispered in the quietest voice she could but still got a slight glance from Thorn. Ever since her vision of the room was occupied she wanted to know how many people sat out of sight. While a small map materialized in her vision it quickly filled with blue dots. After a couple more pulses picking up one or two missed soldiers, a staggering number displayed below the map.

  “Current allies detected: 2,472. Status: majority healthy and //RESTRICTED//. Further information: //RESTRICTED//.” the red text glowed in her vision

  “What invasion is the company planning!?” Lisa felt her chest tighten as panic set in again, "I thought there would be five hundred at the max. How have I not seen them or better yet how big is this facility? What are we being told to do? Almost 2,500 elite corporate soldiers might be able to overthrow a government.” Her thoughts spiraled as her internal voice sped up, increasing its frequency of questions she couldn't even answer.

  The time ticked on while Lisa still struggled with the questions on her mind,

  “Was this to do with the antimatter warhead? No, you want a small team for that, maybe six

  specialized soldiers.”

  CLOMP, CLOMP, CLOMP.

  Heavy boots pierced the silence and snatched the attention of the audience, including Lisa, a man in a grey dress uniform walked on stage, the suit was well ironed and sharp, the eight medals that adorned his left breast did not dare move out of line. The man walked with authority and power until the clap of his boots stopped to the right of the center of the stage. His face resembled a late forty year old man, it looked worn and scars disfigured it slightly but he would have been a handsome man in his youth. A cap with the falling mountains logo sat neatly on his head while golden chevrons and other patterns adorned his shoulders and upper arms.

  “I am Cornel Muller,” his voice was distinguished but cold and a hint of harshness. “I will save my speech for after Mrs. Holland’s but I will warn you, everything you will hear today is true no matter how outlandish it may seem.” Silence once again fell broken by clicking of heels as someone walked on stage.

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  The stormy weather cleared only leaving its grey clouds to haunt the sky, still drenched the four tired and withered party trudges through the mud of the forest. The party, thanks to Timalis, found a path not too long ago filling their hearts with hope of civilization nearby. With a bandaged leg and still unconscious Katlin, Leandros carried her on his back while Ithlix carried both men’s heavy bags. Turning a corner that was almost swallowed by a blackberry bush an opening in the endless trees appeared.

  The group took a step out and looked beyond, looking down from the high hill the forest resided, a long dirt track snaking down the hills wrapping around large trees intermittently scattered amongst the expansive plains. The crashing of waves softly licked the ears of the weary group and the calls of sea gulls that circled around, in the cloudy sky added to the choir of nature. Along the winding dirt path that ran beside a winding river after reaching water level, a small town surrounding the mouth of the river continued on its daily tasks: the water gates stoically resisting against the waves as they remain open, small fishing boats flowed in and out of the small harbor and the church bells rung echoing into the valley and the distant sea. Looking towards the entrance of the wood a wooden sign racked with age and neglect pointed in two directions, one pointing south east, “Grey Harbor, 10 miles”. The other arrow pointed slightly more south read, “Envis, 243 miles”.

  Without a word the party moved forward all itching for a warm bed.