GM-46

Go get them

36.

The room was bathed in darkness. Directional spotlights flooded each participant without letting a single photon escape beyond their cone of clarity. Thus making the protagonists emerged from the shadows like actors on stage during a performance.

In the center of the stage, a long table of frosted glass stretched out in the shape of a horseshoe. Here and there, its smooth surface stole glimmers of light from the projectors. All the players were seated. Only the sergeant remained standing. His status as a supporting role or a budding star still undefined, he stood stiffly between the two legs of the giant U. A well of white light flooded him like the others.

Without any identifiable projection source, particle screens broadcast ghostly loops of the vegetal attack's video. It came from the armored vehicle's surveillance recording piloted a few hours earlier by the soldier.

"Sergeant James T. Callaghan," boomed a theatrical voice.

The non-commissioned officer saluted sharply.

"My general!" Callaghan retorted firmly.

"At ease, soldier!" ordered the general seated at the table's curve.

The sergeant quickly lowered his arm along his body and spread his legs a bit with a mechanical gesture. But he remained stiff, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Dragon squad, riot control unit, non-urban reconnaissance scouts, rapid intervention squadrons, and Anti-Naturalis Brigade: You are a man of action," declaimed the officer in front of him.

"Yes, my general!"

"Your service record is impressive. Two attacks on the Tower thwarted by your surveillance. Pacification of districts 46-B and 46-G. Reconnaissance and pinpointing of eight autonomous 46 villages. And your arrest rate since you took charge of your brigade is the highest of all sectors."

Callaghan did not respond.

"So why just a sergeant?" the superior officer questioned.

No reaction from the principal party concerned.

"A man of your age with such a record... you should already be a captain, perhaps a colonel?"

The muscles in the sergeant's jaw rolled under the taut skin. His scar turned blue.

"Hmm... I see in your file that you have problems with discipline and respect for your superiors, is that the explanation for your stagnation?"

"My general, perhaps, my general, you should ask them."

The sergeant's snapping tone could be interpreted as either bravado or a precise response to the question.

A brief silence fell over the room before the officer resumed:

"What were you doing in the Woods sector tonight?"

"Training maneuvers, my general."

"With three heavy armored vehicles?"

"Coordination exercises and formation progression."

"I see..."

The general leaned forward, and his cap's visor cast a sharp shadow on the table's surface.

"And who authorized this 'training mission' in the specific sector where you lost two of your men early this month?"

Callaghan remained motionless like a granite statue, without responding.

"I see in the reports that there have been many 'training missions' in this area in recent weeks... You are a calamity, sergeant! Discipline, order, and respect are the spearheads of our army. Believe it or not, our resources are not there to satisfy your personal vendettas! I will make sure you are severely..."

"General!"

The voice that interrupted the officer had sliced through the heavy air of the room, amplified further by the sound system equipping the premises.

The general sank back into his chair.

"Excuse him, Sergeant Callaghan... From operating in offices for so long, he forgets the realities of the field."

The spotlight illuminating the general went out, plunging him immediately into darkness, invisible, as if he had never been present in the room to begin with.

The sergeant did not flinch. He couldn't identify the voice's origin broadcast by the speakers. The man to whom it belonged could be in the same room, in the neighboring building, or on another continent.

"We have all been able to appreciate your mission's surveillance video. But can you explain to us what you witnessed before triggering this recording?"

Reluctantly, the sergeant detailed his arrival and that of his two accomplices near the parking lot. He stared into the darkness in front of him, unable to know if the general still lingered or had simply left the room. His summary of an unknown girl's sudden appearance out of nowhere was punctuated by murmurs of concern around the table.

"Sergeant," the voice resumed, "are you aware of your words' significance?"

"Another 46 trick, sir."

He hesitated for a moment before continuing: "But I must admit, I had never seen anything like it."

"Gentlemen, I want the sergeant to receive the highest access authorizations. Share with him all confidential information and a complete dossier on the 46's Council."

The officers from various branches of the military and intelligence services nodded their approval without contradicting their master.

"Sergeant? You are now in charge of a special unit that reports only to me. Assemble your team as you see fit. You have carte blanche and all the facilities of Maxwell Industries at your disposal. One and only mission for you now: to uncover and capture all members of the Council."