Chapter Four:
They continued their trek through the recesses of Downtown, following the most direct path available on the conclusion that Caskar would have wanted to make his own path as simple as possible, so to not get lost in the dark, labyrinthine streets of the subterranean realm. The commandos made good time, running into no opposition and covering a good distance over the proceeding hours as they gradually closed the gap between themselves and the renegade commando. They moved quickly through Downtown, ever vigilant for any potential ambush from the local residents or, more specifically, the foul creatures they were now certain resided in the darkness, watching and waiting.
The Lieutenant eventually called them to a stop to make camp for the night, choosing the third and top floor of a squat, rectangular building that looked out over a parking lot, a number of rusted hulks of centuries old vehicles dotting the space. The base allowed them a good vantage point from which to see anything that approached the building for 270 degrees around it.
The third floor was broken up into three rooms with the commandos occupying the largest and most central. A flat circular device lay in the middle of the room, giving off a soft glow that illuminated its centre, leaving the edges and corners of the room bathed in shadow. The six commandos sat gathered around it, with their helmets and blasters by their sides, within easy reach. They sat around the light conversing softly among themselves and sharing a meal of combat rations. Despite the centuries of technological advancement, the quality of field rations hadn't improved a great deal since the 21st century, but at least they still got a hot, nutritious meal that tasted decent.
Grim ate in silence, lost in his own thoughts about the mission at hand and his personal rivalry with their quarry, his mind swirling back and forth between memories and plans for the future and how what he knew of Caskar could potentially aid them in apprehending him.
Cash finished his meal, sighed, and took a swig from his canteen, deciding to leave the energy drink ration for the morrow.
"What're you sighing about?" Jet asked, finishing off the last traces of his dinner.
Cash shook his head and smiled. "Nothin' kid, forget about it. It doesn't matter."
Across from them Cram smirked. "He's missing out on a social event of some sort," he explained to the rookie, who was still getting to know his squad mates.
"Ah!" Jet said with a nod. He glanced at Cash, "Well there'll always be plenty more," he said.
Cash scoffed and took another drink without saying a word.
"And probably a date with a beautiful, young woman," Cram added.
"Yep," Cash uttered, with another sigh as he took another swig from the canteen and replaced its top. "Of all the things I could be doing right now, I'm stuck here," he said, with a look of disdain.
"Get used to it Sargent," Grim interjected. "You're not the only one who would rather be elsewhere. If you think any of us are thrilled about being here, you're wrong. Dead wrong," he said, his tone betraying nothing of his emotions. He gazed around the circle of commando's, looking them all in the eye one by one. "That's the price we pay as soldiers of the Federation. That's what it means to serve the state. It's the sacrifices we make that ensure the safety of its citizens, and we do it because no one else can," he said, his tone flat and matter of fact.
His subordinates all nodded their understanding and voiced their agreement, the conversation around the light fading away as they sat there in silence, the Lieutenant's pep talk effectively killing the mood as he put them in their place.
A couple of minutes later, unable to stand the silence any longer and finding himself short on conversational material Jet spoke to no one in particular. "I didn't really have any plans. It was just another night yanno? If I wasn't on deployment I'd probably be in cyberspace, doing some bulletpod racing or taking part in a Battle Royal," he said naming two of his favourite past times to indulge in within the virtual reality realm of cyberspace.
"Cheater," Wes joked. "That military training gives you an unfair advantage in battle royals."
Jet grinned in response, while Cram shook his head in amusement.
"Give it a couple of years. When you've done this enough in real life, you lose the passion for Battle Royal. The reality of war sucks any fun out of it," Dex said.
Jet's smile faded as he considered Dex's words. "I guess it would," he replied, a few seconds of silence passing by before he asked Dex. "What would you be doing now?"
Dex took a few moments to think about it before replying. "Probably reading something, I'm currently reading a book about the development of hologram technology and the impact it had on society," he said.
Jet nodded in acknowledgment and turned his attention to Wes.
Wes shrugged. "Nothing special, most likely sitting on the couch watching some holo-series. I'm a big fan of Blazers," he said, naming a popular comedy series.
Cram chuckled. "I'm more a fan of The Board. Although it's probably a bit too serious and complicated for you boltheads," he joked. "But to answer the question, I'd probably either be doing some unarmed combat training or hitting the gym, as boring as that sounds," he said. "But I always try to get a few extra sessions in each week to keep on top of my game."
Jet turned to Grim. "What about you chief?"
Grim looked at Jet, his expression impassive. "Preparing for war."
*********
They rose after a scheduled 6 hours sleep, and after a quick meal set out for the day's trek, the lieutenant insisting they make haste to catch up with Caskar as soon as possible. A few hours after setting out they stumbled upon the first signs of life they had encountered since questioning the vagrants. Unlike the first group of Downtown's inhabitants they had encountered, this group had been taken unaware of their presence and went about their daily business, the scene resembling a 11th century village, but lost within the darkness of Downtown, kilometres below 26th century civilisation.
Grim signalled for the commandos to halt and take up defensive positions, the squad ceasing their march and quickly dispersing across the street as they spread out. In the debris strewn ruins of Downtown it wasn't difficult to find some appropriate cover to position oneself behind. The lieutenant motioned for Cram to follow him and he and the sergeant moved out from behind their cover and casually approached the small community, alert and ready for trouble, but presenting a casual and relaxed demeanour so to not alarm the locals.
Grim mentally selected some options from his helmet's HUD and his live feed was slaved to the units in his squad, the others all seeing a small screen that displayed his point of view on the right side of their own displays.
It didn't take long for the locals to notice the two commandos walking up the street, Cram tagging along behind and to the right of his superior officer to provide him with back up, should he need it. Some of them quickly shuffled off, running inside to hide from the soldiers, while others kept their distance, watching them with a keen interest.
Grim came to a stop in the middle of the street. "We are soldiers from the world above," he began, his voice being projected out by the helmet's external speakers. "We mean you no harm and are travelling through your home, I wish to speak to your leader," he said. "Help us, we will leave you in peace and you will never see us again." He stopped, watched and waited. For some time nothing happened and he was about to speak again, more forcefully, when an elderly man came shuffling towards him from further up the street, flanked by four rugged looking individuals bearing melee weapons who he assumed were bodyguards of some sort. Grim waited for them to approach and nodded in greeting to the elderly man as he came to stand before the commando.
"Greetings sir," the old man said with a solemn nod. "You here for other like you?" he asked, in the same broken English the vagrants they had questioned earlier had spoken.
Grim guessed that centuries in isolation had led the inhabitants of Downtown to gradually develop a dialect of their own, that was more basic, primitive and direct than what the commandos were used to. "Yes," Grim confirmed with a nod. "He's a wanted criminal. We are here to hunt him down and arrest him," he explained.
The old man looked at him with a quizzical expression, as if he didn't understand. The lieutenant realised they probably had a limited vocabulary. "He bad man, we are here to catch him," he reiterated, cringing at having to talk like a simpleton.
"Ah!" the old man said. "He come this way, two days ago, want our help."
"Did you help him?" Grim asked. "What did he say?" he inquired, relieved to hear they were successfully closing the gap.
"Yes, we help all who ask," the elder replied. "He not say much, keep to himself. Say he want meet friends, they come get him when he ask. He no ask, talker no work, too far. He get closer, make meet point, then they come get him," he said to the lieutenant.
Grim was pleased to learn that their suspicions had been correct, although the options available to the renegade hadn't been many to begin with. "How did you help him?" he asked. "Can you tell us which way he went?"
The old man closed his eyes momentarily then opened them once more with a nod. "Yes, we help, tell him way to go, where he can make meet place," he confirmed. "Tell you how find him, follow path he take and find him you will," he said nodding sagely. "We want no fight. None our problem, no sides, friend or foe nobody," he said, staring hard at Grim's glowing red visor.
"I understand, yes. Thank you for help. Now what path he take?" the commando asked. It took a painfully long time for the old man to explain the directions, with his simplistic language and attempts to explain ruined landmarks Grim had never seen before it was a long, frustrating, and tiresome affair. They got there eventually however, and Grim had constructed a basic map, stored within his helmet's intel files of where Caskar was headed and what path he had taken. The old man seemed non-pulsed by the whole business, remaining calm and nonchalant throughout the process.
Grim signed inside his helmet, immensely relieved the ordeal was over. He bid the old man farewell and returned to his men who had remained in position, should anything go wrong. "Ok, good news," he declared. "I know where Caskar is headed and what path he took," he said, updating his men, who he had muted during his conversation with the old man to spare them the torture. "The leader of this village was happy to oblige us and see us on our way," he added.
"Good. Wise move on his part," Cash said. "I'd hate to have to start busting some skulls to get answers."
"Oh?" Cram asked, feigning surprise. "Since when?"
They could practically hear Cash grin inside his helmet as he replied, "Since just now."