“You’re Doctor Alfred Gil, the medical scientist overseeing the Crimson Tide Project.”
The doctor could only nod as the first of the Blue Ghosts he’d encountered approached him. Calig was more than just interested in Munican affairs. They put in the effort to learn about his project in particular, the one he was trying so desperately to salvage after his superiors were completely entranced by the Cordoba. At least this man didn’t sound as likely to kill him anymore.
The mana that surged around the Calman ghost’s body steadily quieted and disappeared. The man standing in front of him now was clad all in black, from his combat fatigues to his armor, mask, helmet, and even his weapons. He was equipped for anything an infiltrator might have to deal with in Fort Baldi; had a pistol holstered on his right hip, a short sword of distinctly Calman design on the left, a knife sheathed on his chest, what must have been a full set of flash grenades on his belt, and a submachinegun tucked away on his lower back. Gil only saw the barrel, but that was the most common way to carry a submachinegun in the eastern part of the continent.
“We have our own intelligence, but there are some details I’d like you to fill in for us. What happens after that depends on what you can tell us.”
“Explain the project from your point of view and keep it brief,” the second ghost said impatiently, “We’re on a schedule.”
Where to even begin, Gil mulled it over as he picked himself up off the floor. He decided to focus on the pivotal point in his research that put him on the track to the Crimson Tide Project’s core methodology, as well as inspired its name. He didn’t know what kind of background these two men had, only that they were trained killers with a mission they would fulfill regardless of who got in their way. If he was going to keep things brief, he would also have to keep them simple. No stalling for time or annoying them with details and explanations neither could really appreciate.
“Brief then. While I was researching alternative means of speeding up the recovery process for prosthesis recipients, I discovered that certain kinds of malevan material can be used to not only aid in a soldier’s recovery, but also better integrate the prosthetic bridges with the subject’s own nervous system.” They probably weren’t brutes, but the doctor could only hope none of that had gone over their heads. He continued at the first Calman’s nod. “Most untreated malevan material is toxic to us, but there is a type of hive species out in the Arenas Desert that has a somewhat different effect–when properly managed, of course.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” the other Calman practically growled, “What happened to your test subjects?”
As afraid as he was, Doctor Gil still couldn’t help but cast a glare at him. While he accepted that what he was doing was on the fringe of medical science, the idea that he had somehow crossed a line and become a madman pursuing unethical treatments was just offensive. More importantly, what he was doing had more than just military applications. His research, given a chance, might someday turn the tide against the countless malevan-induced diseases plaguing modern society. Once this methodology was fully understood, they could finally fight fire with fire in a way that actually gave tangible results, and negligible side effects. That’s what Gil’s findings suggested, at least. With all funding diverted from the Crimson Tide Project, his progress had slowed dramatically.
Gil cleared his throat and tried to keep himself composed. For all intents and purposes, he was a hostage. It wouldn’t do him any good to be aggressive with these two. “There have been no negative reports from any of the volunteers. Moreover, with all my funding taken away, I haven’t been able to continue the project.” The doctor remembered midway through his rebuttal that his project was technically suspended. The Calman ghosts were asking him to explain the details to them, though. Something felt off again, but he didn’t know exactly what. He also didn’t know what he should and shouldn’t say, both for the sake of his project, and his own life. The Calmans in general weren’t fans of malevan research; they were the ones that popularized the term ‘crimson’ in reference to malevans to begin with.
“But you are still working on it,” the first Calman ghost said insistently, “You’re already in the trial phase.”
How much did they know? Gil was hoping it was just a bluff, but if he got himself caught being dishonest, he doubted he would be leaving the laboratory wing with his life. “Y-yes,” Gil admitted. He just hoped that being open and honest with them was the right thing to do. They could just as well kill him for spearheading research their superiors hated as being a useless source of information. This was a delicate balancing act at best and a roll of the dice at worst.
“Who are the new test subjects?” the impatient one demanded.
“The test subjects?” Gil asked on reflex.
“You’re still doing the research, so who are the lab rats?”
“I …” Gil found himself on the edge of laughter. The Calmans may have known about the project in general, but they had no idea how thoroughly the doctor’s efforts were being undermined. The fear quickly came back and helped the doctor rein himself in in time to avoid laughing at the two ghosts. He didn’t know why they were so interested in the test subjects in particular, but there weren’t any hidden away anywhere. Once the project was suspended, all of the volunteers were moved to a different base and were supposedly being monitored closely for a time. Once they were deemed fit for duty, they might even be transferred back to Fort Baldi. The place would certainly need fortifying after this latest attack, Gil noted.
As for testing the latest version of the combat stimulant, there was only one test subject now: the doctor himself. Gil was hesitant to reveal that, though. What if they saw the test subjects as contaminated and simply wanted to kill them? How was he going to get out of this if he revealed that he was the only loose end, or worse, one of their targets for extermination?
“Stop stalling. Who are they?”
The doctor’s life might be hanging on the answer, but he’d already held back for too long. Anything he said now would be under serious scrutiny, more so than anything else he’d told them up to this point. “W-what do you want me to say? I haven’t been able to find any new test subjects because the project is suspended.” Not so much an answer as an explanation of just how bad the situation was for the Crimson Tide Project. “The original volunteers were shipped off for close monitoring some time ago.”
“Original?” The first Calman tilted his head slightly. He wasn’t even trying to sell it as genuine curiosity.
Doctor Gil cursed his own wording. He was caught.
Sort of.
The ghosts didn’t know that he was the one and only test subject left for the project, but now they had enough clues to figure it out for themselves.
“If the project’s suspended,” the second started again, “then who did you rope into it?”
“N-no one,” Gil said in a strained half whisper, “I’m the only one involved now. Just, please.” Feeling cornered, the doctor slowly raised his hands up, pleading with them both. “I don’t know why you’re so interested in test subjects, but I haven’t hurt anyone.”
“I see.” That seemed to satisfy the first. “We’ve got a few minutes left. Explain what your latest testing involved, what the results were, and what you’re aiming to achieve in the final product.”
“I’ll-,” the doctor hesitated, taking a moment to try and read the man as best he could. It was impossible to tell what he really wanted. The second was obviously irritated, but Gil didn’t really know why, or how to avoid making the man’s disposition even worse. “I’ll do my best.”
The latest version of the combat stimulant for the Crimson Tide Project was designated M3CT-2XS. According to Doctor Gil, the animal tests had gone well, though he hadn’t been able to perform very many of them. Now he was ready for testing on prudens, rather, testing on himself. He had a significant batch of M3CT-2XS, as well as four autoinjectors.
Originally, Gil planned to use all four autoinjectors on himself over the course of a single month, carefully monitor his condition, document his findings, and tweak the 3XS version of the stimulant accordingly. Somehow Gil had avoided being shot in the course of explaining this and his findings to the two Calman ghosts.
Gil was surprised by just how good he was starting to feel speaking about his ideas so openly. The Calmans were foreigners armed to the teeth, ready to put him down at a moment’s notice, but there was no one else the doctor could be so open with. It was ironic and a little unfortunate that they were Calmans. This might have been Gil’s one chance to sell someone from outside Munica on his combat stimulant, but the Calmans hated malevan lifeforms of any kind. That hatred spanned thousands of years across countless tribes and city-states. One bold, optimistic scientist wasn’t going to change their minds. At least, he thought to himself, he was still alive.
Once Gil told them everything he could, the first Calman turned toward the damaged laboratory door. “If you’re the only test subject here, then you’re coming with us.”
“With you?” Gil didn’t know why they would want to take him with them. It didn’t make much sense for a team of death commandos to come all this way just to hear his side of the story and then leave, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to be extracted by the end. Murdered, definitely, but not whisked away to who knows where. Looking back on the situation, and remembering the note, maybe being abducted was always the plan. Perhaps the fear that came with being hunted left him unable to fully read the situation.
“The materials are one thing,” the second Calman said, “but getting him out is going to be a challenge.”
“Agreed.”
“Wait,” Gil said, looking over to the ghost that disarmed him earlier, “Weren’t you prepared for this? Wasn’t that the plan all along? Weren’t you confirming who I was just now or is it only the test subjects you’re interested in? And what about that note you left me?”
The two men glanced at each other briefly, then looked back at the doctor. Whatever that look was, Gil could already feel the honesty in the room evaporating.
“Don’t worry about that, Doctor. Just grab that briefcase of yours and get ready to move.”
“You did stuff it with everything regarding your project, right?” the impatient ghost said, “Including the autoinjectors?” There weren’t any loose ends with these two, apparently.
Gil nodded. “Naturally, but still … at least answer one question for me.”
“We aren’t telling you where you’re headed.”
Admittedly, Gil would have liked to know that too, but it wasn’t the answer to the question that was burning brightest in him at that moment. It was the question he had before, back even before the attack. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would leave him a note warning him that they were coming for him specifically. The men who presumably did that were right here. If he just figured out why, he might be able to put together their motives himself. He might finally be able to fully grasp the situation. Or maybe it was just a rationalization, something to justify Doctor Gil’s eccentric nature. He couldn’t leave a mystery alone to save his life.
“Just please tell me why you warned me you were coming. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s been driving me insane trying to understand.”
“That’s what you’re worried about right now? Are you serious?”
Doctor Gil squinted at the second ghost, listening carefully for any clues. He couldn’t be sure, but they were both being just dismissive enough to seem evasive. They had him, he could no more expose or embarrass them than he could fight them, so why avoid the question? Unless …
“You didn’t leave me that note, did you?” The words left Gil’s lips entirely of their own accord. He could only stand there, dumbfounded by the fact that there wasn’t just one group after him, but two.
The first ghost turned away and brought two fingers up to his helmet, right where his left ear was. “Red, is the door still open?”
“Keep quiet from now on,” the second ghost warned Gil.
“Good. We’ve got everything, but there may be a challenger on site. Keep your eyes peeled.”
A ‘challenger’ was an interesting way to refer to a third party, the doctor noted.
Fleeing Victory #10 should be finished by tomorrow, but with Clan Battles coming up I might need a little extra time. We’ll see. I’m also gearing up to tackle a large chunk of Emancipating Blade (LGT), so there should be some progress on that and probably an LGT Editing segment next week. Space Engineers is going to have to wait until I’m comfortably ahead of schedule again.
Also, based on what I heard from a youtuber I like, Code Fairy’s volume 2 should be releasing … yesterday? I’ll test to see if the scenes for that are still blocked, probably on Monday. Even if they’re not, I would like to get my follow up on that done in November if at all possible. Game reviews aren’t really my thing and this is one of just a dozen reasons why, but if something’s interesting enough, I’ll definitely give my impressions on it at the very least.
Speaking of which, Scarlet Nexus is a game I got when it first came out, but I haven’t had much time to play it, and I’ve pretty much stopped altogether. Once December rolls around I’m going to give that game another try and give my impression on it.
A lot of what I can get done tomorrow depends on whether or not Clan Battles in World of Warships happens, and how much of our window we play for. Either way I’m at least going to knock out FV#10 even if I have to cut it a bit short or rearrange some of the dialogue I have in mind for the next few chapters.
It’s a week early, but who am I to question it? At least it dropped on a Friday, right? Anyway, standing behind Wargaming’s Art team are the people who make and edit WG’s promotional videos. This is a very well done video. If I hadn’t been playing the game for as long as I have, they could have even sold me on Saipan B.
Very well put together, especially if you’re not looking at this WG video with blood tinted glasses. So, am I going to buy the Yoshino B like I really, really, really want to?
No.
When all’s said and done I’ll never have a valid reason for purchasing a tier X ship from Wargaming directly, certainly not a variant. I don’t even like playing at that tier so why invest so much for so little value? In a few months I’ll have enough to buy the normal Yoshino with in-game currency, so that’s definitely the better option. Don’t get me wrong, the paint schemes are drop dead gorgeous on some of the ships. If this set came out a year ago, I might have grabbed Pommern B while I was at it.
Having said all of that, I’m probably going to get some of the Black Friday containers. I did that last year specifically to stock up on Shadow Lurker camos. This is the only time I can do that. While I was in protest with the community over Wargaming’s handling of the community contributers and a hefty list of other issues, any and all purchases were off the table, including the BF containers. Like I said before, my beef with them is over, so I’ll stock up on Shadow Lurkers if life permits. If I get lucky and get a ship as well, great, but a 12% drop rate is only decent in dedicated gacha games.
Well, I’m not surprised that the scenes are still blocked, but it does mean that I’m going to have to find a different approach for my follow up article on Code Fairy. Even the simulator menu is considered a blocked scene, so they nailed me on both my plan A and my plan B for today’s article. On the bright side, the longer this takes, the more I have to talk about, and the more things I can take another, more objective pass at. Until then I can look around for some screenshots of the blocked chapters, since I’ve seen some of them around while doing a bit of research. I’ll just have to grab some of the best ones.
It’s a shame but otherwise today’s been a pretty good day.
Since Fleeing Victory #9 is done, I’ve got tomorrow and Sunday to hammer out FV#10. Even so I’m going to try to have FV#10 done or close to it by tomorrow. With Clan Battles on Sunday I can’t really risk trying to write the whole thing in one sitting. I’m not quite at that level yet. Sometimes you have to get up and pace around, reorganize a few bits of characterization and events in your head, omit this, add that, etc, etc.
One thing that makes these pantser sessions a little hard to predict is the size of them. They’re not that big, not especially long reads, but they do tend to be about three scenes most of the time. Sometimes I feel like they should be longer, and times like today I feel they work better if they’re shorter, but there’s no set wordcount or scene count that I stick to. Usually, I just reach a point where it feels like a good time to end that chapter and start another one. That usually takes three scenes, so that’s how most of these turn out.
It’s neat. I like looking back on what I’ve written and picking out those kinds of habits and patterns.
Doctor Alfred Gil found the note addressed to him in the middle of the Cordoba’s field tests. He hadn’t told anyone about it, figuring others might write it off as a prank, just like he had at first. Later, when Fort Baldi came under attack, the Doctor somehow found himself with that little note in his hand, again. Things always seemed to be going poorly for him. Ever since his combat stimulant research–along with many other programs–had its funding pulled and diverted to Munica’s new colossus, things had been going extremely poorly. Smiling and quietly enjoying the misfortunes of his peers and the spoiled officers of Fort Baldi was all he could do to keep his spirits up these days.
Who was coming, though? Doctor Gil didn’t have a clue. His first thought was someone on the Cordoba project, some group that found out he was still working on his combat stimulant in secret. Maybe they planned to expose him to General Cruz and the others. It wasn’t too long before bigger concerns took over. What if it wasn’t his own people, but Cordaean special forces? They might have spies in the Munican army that knew about his work. That seemed worryingly more likely than some petty researchers trying to shut him down for good. They had all the funding they wanted, and Gil himself had to keep his research going almost entirely out of pocket. Scrounging up materials when he was supposed to be working exclusively on improving the prosthetics of allied soldiers made things even more difficult.
There was just one thing that didn’t add up for Gil, and that was the note itself. Why leave something like that for him to find? The sender had to know there were a number of actions he could take in response, actions that didn’t serve whatever their plan was. That was why Gil had been ready to dismiss the note out of hand when he first found it. Dangerous people with eyes on the doctor wouldn’t sneak into his office only to warn him they would be coming back for him later. Dangerous people would just come inside and have their way with him and his research material. So maybe this was just a petty prank after all?
No, that couldn’t be it.
Doctor Gil had wracked his brain for hours trying to figure it out. He only took a break from mentally running in circles when Captain Fran Sandoval was brought in, unconscious, but otherwise alright. Seeing the mighty brought low and hearing about flaws in the design and battle damage to the Cordoba had been the highlight of an otherwise grim day. Once the captain left, it was back to the mystery, and the longer Gil thought about it, the more he felt he would never find the answer.
There was no time left to think about it once the Cordaeans attacked. All the doctor could do was make a decision. He could either wait for whoever was coming to arrive, or he could take what was left of his research and run.
“No,” Doctor Gil shook his head as he surveyed his own office, “you’re being irrational.” There was no mistaking the danger that the best of a foreign power’s armed forces posed, but even with Fort Baldi under attack and the doctor awaiting some mystery guest, he didn’t need to abandon everything. While it was true Gil was pressing on with his research against the ‘strong suggestion’ of his superiors, he was more than on top of his regular duties. If someone came with the intent of harming him, or shutting down his personal laboratory, his fellow countrymen would protect him. They didn’t need to like him in order to do their duty, just like the doctor didn’t need to like them in order to keep pursuing ways of helping them fight the Cordaeans.
There was no need to run, Gil decided, but he was going to make certain his research, as well as all of his working samples were safe. It would be simple enough to keep his personal endeavors hidden, even in the rising chaos, buried beneath his notes on medicines and prosthetic nerve bridges. Most of it was interrelated to at least some degree, even the combat stimulant. What had once merely been an attempt to reduce a soldier’s need for post-procedural treatments and enhance the integration of their new prosthetics had nearly blossomed into a serum that could push that same soldier’s combat capabilities far beyond the witless mechanical hordes of the Cordaean army. Doctor Gil was so close to a breakthrough, but things were always going poorly for him, and today was no different.
As Gil grabbed his most important notes, he scanned the office again. Something felt off. It was too quiet. The odd rumble from an outdoor explosion was to be expected from time to time, but this was the main HQ building. Why weren’t there men running around out in the halls? It felt like that entire wing of the building had been abandoned, which put him on edge. If no one was around, who was going to protect him?
“Blast,” the doctor hissed, opening his desk’s front drawer and pulling out a small pistol. He would just have to protect himself. He was no fighter, but he had no intention of becoming a victim while everyone else was distracted. With everything he needed from his office, Gil carefully peeked out into the hallway. No one was out there, not even a custodian drone. Once he was sure the coast was clear, the doctor started running. His next stop was the Laboratory Wing.
When Doctor Gil made it to the labs, he quietly slipped into the room set aside specifically for him and his assistants.
“Danger,” one of the assistants warned Gil with its a scratchy, artificial voice. The automaton was dressed like a lab assistant, but little else about it seemed pruden. Its face was little more than an array of cameras. Its arms could somewhat mimic the shape of a pruden hand, but in that moment they were branching out from the elbow, multiple tools and pliers ready to handle whatever Doctor Gil needed. “Please proceed to the shelter.”
“Ah,” Doctor Gil muttered, recalling a minor detail he’d forgotten. There were procedures in place should Fort Baldi come under attack. Under normal conditions, if the Cordaeans or anyone else tried to reach the base, nearby assets would swoop in and handle them. The civilians and noncombat personnel would only need to hunker down where they were and stay out of the garrison’s way. If the fortress walls were being shelled or otherwise compromised, noncombat personnel and the like were to head deep into the underground facilities, assuming they weren’t already there. The explosions Gil heard definitely implied Fort Baldi was being hit directly.
Doctor Gil had two mechanical assistants assigned to him and both were there in the lab. Neither were privy to his combat stimulant research, nor were they allowed to interact with any of the materials. Gil always managed to keep them both busy with the work the higher ups actually wanted done. They were just machines, and far from questioning. With them here, Gil could secure his research materials and then get to safety. Whoever left him that note wasn’t going to get the chance to get to him.
“First, I want you both to scour the lab,” the doctor let slip a faint grin, “Anything referencing-”
A noise that sounded almost like metal clashing hard against concrete made Gil swallow the instructions and make a gesture at his assistants. He wasn’t alone after all. The Doctor quietly made for the door and peaked outside. He looked west, the direction he came from, and the main route out of the laboratory wing. Nothing. When he looked east, down the far end of the Laboratory Wing, he froze in terror. The lights were out, save for the ones at the T junction. Standing there was a dark figure that, even standing under the light, was as black as a shadow. The doctor almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was it the one who wrote that note and left it in his office? No Munican soldier wore all black, nor did they set such a twisted and grim scene to try and intimidate people. Gil gulped hard, finding it nearly impossible to look away. There was no chance the figure was just standing there, oblivious to the lone scientist in the area. He knew the doctor was there and watching him.
With greater effort than he could have imagined, Gil pulled his head back through the door and closed it. “No time left. They’re here.”
The doctor’s knees were shaking uncontrollably. He wished that note had been a prank, but things were undeniably beginning to bear out.
“Doctor, please repeat your instructions,” the assistant chirped.
“They’re here for me. There’s no way out of here.” Gil put together and dismissed half a dozen escape plans in the space of a heartbeat, quickly realizing that his only way out of this situation was to create a diversion. Running was useless without one. Briefly, he eyed both of his assistants. “Your instructions, of course.” The doctor’s grin returned as he thought of a way out. He could make this work, if only because his assistants were good listeners and knew know fear.
While he didn’t know how much time he would have to prepare, Gil wasted none of it. He relayed each assistant’s orders even as he helped them gather his battle stimulant research and a briefcase to put it all in. The plan was quite simple. One assistant would come bursting out of the lab running to the west, and the other would be going east in the direction of that imposing black figure. Even if they had him blocked off at both ends of the hall by the time he made his escape, all the doctor had to do was gauge the situation as the assistants charged and take the better looking route out of the laboratory wing. He still had his pistol, so he was far from harmless. He could and would defend himself if they tried to stop him.
Doctor Gil kept checking his watch, expecting his plan to fall apart at any moment. It was taking far too long to get everything ready, but they were nearly done. His assistants approached him and handed over the final documents they could find, and Gil quickly put them in the briefcase along with four metal cylinders and a small chemical storage unit. “There!” He slammed the briefcase shut and motioned for the door. “We’re leaving. Now. Start running to the shelter ahead of me and tackle anyone you can’t identify. I’ll be right behind you.” One of them, anyway, the doctor shrugged in amusement.
Just as his assistants reached the door and one of them tried to open it, mana tinged a splendid blue rushed up from their feet and overtook them both. Both automata fell to the floor as a tall black figure materialized out of the mana behind them. The only thing the doctor could make out at first was the faint blue light coming from the eyes of the figure’s mask. Blue colored mana was rare among mages, but even more so among soldiers, which made Gil fear the worst. He clung to the briefcase with one hand while the other grasped desperately for the small pistol in his coat.
“Doctor Gil,” the masked figure spoke, his voice deep and almost morbidly inquisitive, as if he’d found exactly the person he was planning to …
“Stay back,” Gil jutted his gun at the man. The doctor knew exactly what he was. He was a Blue Ghost, one of Calig’s most powerful field agents. Trained soldiers were like children throwing rocks to them, and Gil didn’t even want to imagine how helpless he was compared to a soldier. His assistants hadn’t even gotten the chance to attack. All he had left was a gun that probably wouldn’t do much.
Just as the masked man took a step forward, Gil panicked and pulled the trigger. By some miracle, he managed to keep his eyes open, but by another, this one favoring the masked man, the bullet passed harmlessly through his body. The only sign that magic had been involved was the brief but noticeable flicker, as the masked man’s body vanished in a faint blue haze and just as quickly returned.
Blue ghost indeed.
“Stay away from me!” Gil fired another shot, but he only hit the door. He fired again and stumbled backward as yet another bullet phased through the masked intruder. He caught himself on a counter, but just before he could fire another shot, a hand appeared out of the corner of his eye. In the time it took for the second blue ghost’s body to fully appear, the doctor’s pistol, his only means of defending himself, had been ripped out of his hand with practiced ease. He dropped his briefcase as the second ghost twisted his arm around his back and pressed him face first down onto the counter.
“No, stop! Please!”
“It’s him,” the second ghost said, his voice not quite as deep as the first’s. His tone was impatient, irritated, as if the doctor wasn’t worth the trouble. Gil feared that if he was going to be killed in a moment, this second ghost would be the one pulling the trigger.
“Good,” the first said.
“What do you want? Please just tell me,” Gil pleaded, “I’ll answer any questions you have, just please don’t kill me.”
The second ghost suddenly pulled the doctor up and turned him to face the first ghost. He released him, but Gil was paralyzed in shock and fell onto his rear with his back against the counter. He almost didn’t feel the pain from such a hard landing; his own fear had him by the throat as much as either of his attackers.
“Even better.”
Gil could tell this blue ghost was smiling, even behind that mask and the mana that was churning up around him.