Into The Rift

Foreign Soil (12)

"Same thought here," I echo his sentiment, glaring at the delegation. "I swear they're intentionally making this harder for us."

"So we ignore it or what?"

I shake my head, "We can't, not until they give us a better reason to. Anyone of us can exercise that right, but I prefer we don't. Let the civvies do their job, we do ours."

Douglas relents with a sigh, "That's what I'm worried about, giving them the lead. I've still got safety off—just in case."

After exchanging a few more words, we both jump back to the local channel. Robert and James perk up as we hop back to the frequency.

Gabriel's voice springs up shortly after we rejoin the channel. "Looks like we're really doing this. Simmons, we're standing by to move out with the delegation," he says.

"Gotcha," I acknowledge, turning around to see the Lieutenant reforming his eight men team to a loose wedge.

The entirety of Fireteam Chevron breaks off, heading towards the delegation. Douglas and I move to compensate—filing in the gap on the other side of the Valor. Across the still active rotor wing, there was more of the locals filling the alcove. They stared from a distance, perhaps registering us as outsiders with little reason to be here.

Most of their looks can be summarized in two words. Bewildered—and cautious. Together they made for an unmistakable expression, one that was easy to recognize even in the heated moment.

Cooper and his entourage were still locked in discussions with the general and his escorts as I waited with a knee planted down. The latter bickered with one another, occasionally sending a reply which is then translated by Richard. Despite being in the presence of his former captives, the man remained composed and professional.

'He's tougher than he looks,' I muse, staring at the researcher's back.

I use the lull to further orientate myself on the surroundings. Much of it was beautiful—almost breathtaking. The sea of flowers rose and fell in soft waves beneath the winds, bordered only by smooth marble-like paths that glimmered beneath the sun's ire.

They weaved around the large alcove, forking to alternate lanes and large ornate stairways. Some of the stairs curled up to large platforms where a doomed roof was perched. Their bright golden frames were held by imposing columns, chiseled with the markings of symbols and figures alike.

Closer on the left, a firm rush of water cascades down from a large central fountain—spilling over to the catchment beneath. Petals and leaves floated within its gilded rim, lightly skimming across the active waters in slow—measured stalks.

The entire scene almost takes me by the horns. It was difficult to focus on security when all around me sat wonder and amazement. These people built to impress—and impress they definitely did.

Douglas abruptly aligns his weapon to the side, voice alert on comms, "Heads up—got three approaching the delegation. All female coming in from my right. They've got something in their hands, can't tell what."

"Visual, "Chevron's team leader affirms, "we'll keep them under watch."

I frown and shake away the admiration. "Consider them as possible threats, be ready just in case," I interject.

"Roger," James responds first under a flat tone. Douglas and Robert affirm similarly, keeping communications strictly on the side of relevance.

The soft flowing silks of the three women held my suspicions as they traverse across the garden, hands clasped in front of them. Thin white veils hid their features from sight as I watched. From the side, their slim physique is made even more apparent.