Into The Rift

The Sovereign Islands (43)

-0343 Military Hours, May 10th
-Visegrad Island, Northern Coastline

Four days have elapsed since our supposed capture by the locals. Things were dull and empty without the added stress of the mission parameters to bring out my very best. There was no immediate reason now to skirt around the edges of the settlement, or to gather further Intel on the remnants of the former outpost's infrastructure and equipment.

It all has been dealt with, now the only thing left on our agenda is to secure the military survivors of the taskforce. They were on the Island directly south west of Visegrad, just waiting to be brought back to Tartarus, they'll only have to wait a little longer.

"I don't like the attention they're giving us," James mutters under his breath, signaling me with a nudge on the side. "Looks to be gossip of some kind, doesn't sound to be positive. They could be planning something."

I shake my head in dismissal, following his gaze to the Elven soldiers on the far right. "The Taskforce killed well over a hundred of their soldiers during the assault, could just be related to that. Don't think they ever got over it," I say, staying firmly on the side of neutrality.

"Possible, I'll see how it goes. Hopefully it's just that," my companion answers, committing back into his role in covering our rear, weapon positioned against the dark curtain of trees further inland.

"It should be," I comment, ending the brief discussion on a discreet note.

Relations with the Elves were sour but thankfully non-hostile, owing to our actions in trying to clear our names of any perceived crimes. Considering the situation, I was happy for my team to escape with cold glares and the occasional look of outright resentment. It could have been worse.

We've done our fair share against them, certainly nothing on the scale of Taskforce Anvil, but enough to warrant some well deserved hate. Several fatalities can be attributed to our action against their ship called the Ethornai, the civilian vessel still bearing the scars of our high intensity assault.

The naturally occurring tempo of the waves crashing against the shore muffles the idle thought as I shift my attention away from the starlit horizon. Eventually, my eyes gravitate back towards the Elven soldiers, so I shift slightly to better accommodate them within my field of vision.

Even if they insisted on accompanying us to the coast, they were actively disassociating themselves from us at every opportune moment. I can hardly fault them for that type of reaction.

It was only natural given our actions against Visegrad as a whole, the Taskforce inclusive. We never should have ventured to this Archipelago in the first place, even for the sake of exploration.

"Assuming they're still on schedule, the Valors are set to arrive within half an hour," a voice abruptly shatters the monotone silence.

I force down the initial response to turn to the source, already aware of the owner's identity.

"Keep your scopes up. As soon as they make landfall, the pilots have to be briefed to the new plan ASAP," I answer with my eyes back on the ocean, squinting them to pick up even the slightest hint of a silhouette across the field of stars.

Deciding the response did not fully cover my thoughts, I continue on. "They're in the dark about what we've done so far, so expect some initial confusion. A general rundown on what we intend to do should suffice."

"Hopefully they've brought enough juice," Robert promptly answers, night vision device residing over his visor. "We could be facing bingo fuel if we aren't careful. Reserves are bound to be tight on Tartarus, even with Jupiter Contingency grounding all expeditionary flights."