Chapter 3: Conversing Comrades
Hours later, the scene outside the restaurant was a flurry of activity as multiple vehicles from the Emergency Medical Technicians converged upon the area. Personnel rushed back and forth, carrying the critically injured and unconscious victims from the chaos within the restaurant.
Meanwhile, Klaus sat perched on the stepboard at the rear of an ambulance, his face contorted in discomfort as a first aider meticulously wrapped a gauze bandage around his injured area. With practiced precision, the bandage was secured in place, providing some measure of relief to Klaus's injury.
As the first aider departed to afford the high-ranking officers privacy, two figures approached Klaus. The scene was fraught with tension as the officers engaged in conversation, their voices hushed in the midst of the unfolding crisis.
"General, I apologize for approaching you without an appointment, but the urgency of this conversation cannot be ignored..." Officer Müller expressed to Klaus, his nameplate bearing his surname lending authority to his words as he emphasized the importance of the information.
"She snapped out, possibly due to anxiety..." Klaus began, addressing the officer's inquiry about the situation.
"Snapped out...?" Müller echoed, his eyebrow arched in curiosity.
"Yes... perhaps a possible PTSD that triggered her to be that aggressive..." Klaus responded, his tone reflective of the gravity of the situation.
The two officers nodded in response, their expressions remaining stoic as they absorbed Klaus's account. "Any more details you'd like to add, sir?" Schneider inquired, seeking further information.
"It was all of a sudden," Klaus began, his voice tinged with a mix of fascination and apprehension. "She grabbed the table, crushing it with her own hands... It was fascinating yet terrifying at the same time," he elaborated, his words painting a vivid picture of the sudden and startling display of strength witnessed during the incident.
"If I may recall, establishments that use glass tables are required to use tempered glass considering their high surface compression," Schneider remarked, his tone thoughtful as he considered the logistics of the situation. Müller, intrigued by this statement, interjected with a pointed question, "If so, how did someone like her shatter it with her own hands?"
Klaus maintained his unwavering gaze, his expression conveying a mixture of seriousness and determination. "That's the thing... she isn't like you," he reiterated, the weight of his words underscoring the unique and extraordinary nature of the individual they were discussing. As his response settled in, the officers exchanged glances filled with disbelief, their minds racing to comprehend the implications of Klaus's revelation.
"Sir... what do you mean, 'unlike' us?" one of the officers pressed, his tone tinged with uncertainty. Klaus sighed, his demeanor heavy with the burden of explanation. "Tempered glass is strong, requiring over 10,000 pounds per square inch to break. Synthesized people like you typically have an average grip force rating of 800 to 1,200 pounds per square inch..." he explained, shedding light on the vast disparity between conventional human capabilities and the remarkable strength displayed by Adelheid in question.
"Underneath her white skin lies a metal endoskeleton... I saw it myself when one of the injured shot at her face. Obviously not even you guys could take a hit from an 8 millimeter caliber rifle," Klaus divulged, his words punctuated by a sense of disbelief at the revelation he had witnessed firsthand.
The revelation sent shockwaves through the two officers, their curiosity piqued by the implications of such advanced technology. "Sir, are you aware of the Weapons Research Department about their recent projects?" Schneider inquired urgently, his tone tinged with a sense of urgency as they sought to unravel the mystery surrounding Adelheid in question.
"No..." Klaus responded to their inquiry. Observing the bustling activity around him, he took in the sight of medical personnel attending to the injured, their urgency palpable as they worked to provide aid and transport victims to safety. "...So all of them are dead?" he asked the officers, his voice tinged with concern.
"Some dead, most are barely breathing..." Müller replied solemnly to Klaus's question. With a heavy sigh, Klaus cast his gaze towards a group of medical personnel loading victims onto buses, his heart heavy with despair. "How many dead?" he inquired, steeling himself for the grim reality.
"47 dead, 104 in critical condition... at least 23 among the dead are possible candidates for resuscitation." Müller responded, the weight of the casualties evident in his voice. Klaus pressed further, his need for information driving him forward. "I need names among the dead and in critical condition," he requested.
Schneider drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for the task ahead. "It may take some time to gather their nameplates," he replied to Klaus's statement, acknowledging the challenges involved in identifying and cataloging the victims amidst the chaos of the scene.
"General, you're lucky to be alive. Who knows if that thing was still in active commission..." Müller stated solemnly to Klaus, his words echoing the gravity of the situation. Klaus's mind raced with a troubling thought—the realization that he wasn't even aware of the development of new weapon systems, a concerning oversight for someone in his position.
"When was Lieutenant Diegenhardt created...?" he demanded, his tone betraying a sense of urgency as he sought answers. Müller met his gaze with a somber expression. "We're not aware of her development program, sir. We only learned of it after we arrived at the scene..." he replied, his words tinged with a hint of unease at the revelation of such advanced and secretive technology.
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the harrowing events, Klaus pushed aside his thoughts and turned his attention to the present. "Anymore questions for me to answer, gentlemen?" he inquired of the two officers. They shook their heads in unison. "None, sir. Thank you for your answers, sir..." they replied respectfully before taking their leave.
As soon as the officers departed, Klaus wasted no time in rising to his feet and making his way towards his waiting SUV. Outside, Franz stood by, ready to assist. Approaching the vehicle, Klaus was met with the sight of Franz opening the gull-wing door on the left side, a silent gesture of support and readiness for their next move. As the General settled into the SUV, Franz dutifully closed the doors before taking his place behind the wheel. With a steady hand, he ignited the engine, the hum of power filling the vehicle as it came to life. Gradually, Franz guided the SUV away from the scene, the steady rhythm of the engine providing a sense of reassurance as they departed from the tumultuous events behind them.
As they emerged from the street where the restaurant was situated, Klaus and Franz entered the bustling superhighway. Ahead, four vehicles were stationed on the side of the road, their occupants awaiting Franz's passage. With a nod of acknowledgment, Franz led the convoy past the waiting cars, which promptly fell into formation behind the General's vehicle.
<ESTABLISHING CONNECTION...>
<CONNECTING...>
With disappointment and frustration etched across his features, Klaus reached out to the Everhart Palace, intent on discussing matters of utmost importance with the Empress herself. The revelation that certain information had been kept secret from him stirred a profound sense of unease within him. While he understood the necessity of maintaining secrecy regarding personal matters, the omission of crucial details pertaining to weapons development struck a discordant note.
For Klaus, having access to such information was not merely a matter of curiosity—it was essential for him to fulfill his duties effectively and safeguard the interests of the Nation. The realization that he had been kept in the dark about such significant developments left him feeling unsettled and determined to address the issue with the Empress directly.
<RETINA SCAN REQUIRED.>
Leaning in closer to the console, Klaus positioned himself squarely in front of the scanner, his eyes focused intently on the device. With a sense of determination, he awaited the familiar hum of the scanner as it verified his identity through the intricate patterns of his retina. As the security measure confirmed his authenticity, Klaus's resolve strengthened, reaffirming his commitment to addressing the pressing matters at hand with the Empress.
<SCAN COMPLETE.>
<WELCOME, GENERAL SCHREIBER.>
With a deliberate motion, Klaus retrieved his earpiece and secured it in place, ensuring privacy for their impending conversation. As he awaited Eleanor's response, a sense of anticipation mingled with his resolve, underscoring the importance of the discussion they were about to have. With each passing moment, Klaus's determination to address the undisclosed matters with the Empress only grew stronger. As the minutes ticked by, Klaus waited with bated breath until finally, the Empress's voice came through the earpiece, breaking the silence. With a sense of purpose, Klaus prepared to delve into the matters weighing heavily on his mind, knowing that his conversation with Eleanor would be instrumental in addressing the challenges ahead.
"Details, I need answers..." Klaus responded firmly, his tone tinged with urgency.
"Who's Adelheid?" Klaus cut to the chase, seeking clarity on the mysterious figure.
"Surname...?> Eleanor's fingers danced across her screen as she sought information.
"Von Diegenhardt..." Klaus supplied the necessary details.
"Next time assign me an officer that doesn't weigh half a ton and with a grip force over 10,000 PSI..." Klaus's frustration seeped into his words, though Eleanor seemed puzzled by his statement, unable to decipher its meaning.
"When was she created? Why am I not aware of this development?" Klaus pressed urgently, frustration coursing through his veins at the revelation of yet another undisclosed secret.
"Why wasn't I informed then? As a General, I should have the righ—" Klaus's sentence was abruptly cut off by Eleanor's interruption, further fueling his frustration. <You have the rank, not the authority,> Eleanor interjected with an authoritative tone, her words landing like a heavy blow. Klaus's anger flared at the implication that his rank did not grant him the authority he believed he deserved, intensifying the tension between them.
"THAT THING NEARLY KILLED ME!" Klaus's voice echoed with fury, reverberating through the confines of the cabin as his anger boiled over. In the front seat, Franz heard the outburst, but he remained focused on the road ahead, understanding the depth of Klaus's frustration and allowing him the space to vent his emotions without interruption.
"Yes, what do you need?" Klaus replied, his voice weary yet composed.
"It's not because I want to stick my nose in these projects. I need to know what they're capable of. Of course, not because of ethical considerations; anything we do in a conflict is obviously illegal," Klaus explained to Franz, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.
<...Then what is it?> Franz pressed gently, seeking further clarification.
"To develop countermeasures if ever our weapons fall into our enemy's hands..." Klaus replied solemnly, his words carrying the weight of the responsibility he felt to safeguard the nation's interests.
Franz couldn't help but stifle a chuckle at Klaus's response.
Klaus paused, considering Franz's words carefully. Despite the humor in Franz's tone, there was an underlying truth to his observation. The reputation of their weapons' destructive capabilities indeed served as a powerful deterrent, dissuading even the most daring adversaries from attempting to seize control of them.
"I do have to admit, our military hardware is often rigged with lethal explosives to blow up after 4-10 minutes when the operator or operators are dead," Klaus responded, his tone reflecting a mixture of acknowledgment and concern. The gravity of their security protocols weighed heavily on his mind as he contemplated the measures taken to ensure that their technology never fell into enemy hands.
Franz hesitated, grappling with his words as he struggled to articulate the apology that weighed heavily on his conscience.
Klaus's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at Franz's unexpected comment. Despite himself, a small chuckle escaped his lips, unable to resist the infectiousness of Franz's laughter, even in such an inappropriate moment. "Yeah, the only reason I'm laughing is because of how stupid your laughter is," Klaus retorted with a playful smirk, his tone laced with amusement as he bantered back with Franz. Despite the awkwardness of their exchange, the tension between them began to dissipate, replaced by a shared moment of camaraderie amidst the lighthearted teasing.
In the quiet moments of reflection, Klaus couldn't help but reminisce about the times when he first ventured into the realm of culinary experimentation under the guidance of his sister. As he stood in his kitchen, surrounded by the comforting aromas of home-cooked meals, his mind drifted back to those cherished memories of learning the art of cooking from the one person who had always been there for him.
It was during those early lessons that Klaus discovered a newfound appreciation for the culinary arts, relishing the opportunity to create dishes with his own two hands. Yet, amidst the laughter and camaraderie that accompanied their cooking sessions, there was one particular incident that stood out in Klaus's mind—a moment of culinary calamity that had left a lasting impression on both him and his sister.
As he recalled the events of that fateful day, Klaus couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of his sister's reaction to his first attempt at cooking. With a mixture of amusement and chagrin, he remembered how she had taken one look at his culinary creation and promptly erupted into a fit of laughter, her jovial demeanor quickly giving way to exasperation as she assessed the dismal state of his dish.
"I can't believe you managed to burn water, Klaus!" she had exclaimed, her voice laced with incredulity as she surveyed the charred remnants of his failed attempt at a simple soup. "And what on earth did you put in here? It tastes like something scraped off the bottom of a shoe!" she had continued, her frustration mounting with each passing moment.
Despite her best efforts to maintain her composure, Klaus's sister couldn't contain her disappointment at the sight of his culinary catastrophe. With a sigh of resignation, she had set about salvaging what she could of the ruined dish, her patience wearing thin as she attempted to impart some semblance of flavor to the unpalatable concoction before her.
As Klaus reflected on that unforgettable moment, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of his sister's unwavering support and encouragement, even in the face of his culinary misadventures. For amidst the laughter and the chaos, there had been a profound sense of camaraderie between them—a bond that transcended the simple act of cooking and spoke to the deeper connection they shared as siblings.
And so, as Klaus stood in his kitchen, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and the lingering aroma of burnt soup, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the lessons his sister had imparted to him. For it was in those moments of culinary calamity that Klaus had learned not only the importance of perseverance and determination but also the true value of family and the enduring power of love.
As Franz leaned in with curiosity, his eyes gleaming with interest, he posed a question that had been lingering in his mind.
Klaus paused for a moment, considering his response. Memories of his sister flooded his mind, each one a cherished fragment of their shared history. "Well," he began, a hint of fondness coloring his tone, "she's quite... clingy, to say the least." A wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he recalled his sister's penchant for doting on him, even well into adulthood.
"And, uh," Klaus continued, his expression softening with affection, "she worked for the Everhart Palace as the head chef." The pride in his voice was unmistakable as he spoke of his sister's culinary talents, a testament to her skill and dedication in her chosen profession.
"That's all I can disclose, Sergeant..." Klaus stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Yet, just as Franz seemed to nod in understanding, Klaus added a final remark, his voice taking on a hint of amusement. "...And don't even think about hitting on her, because she won't be accepting your proposal." The playful warning hung in the air, a lighthearted reminder of the boundaries that existed within their professional relationship.
Franz couldn't help but chuckle at Klaus's remark, his lips curling into a wry smile.
As the minutes stretched into a quiet expanse, a tranquil stillness settled over the interior of the vehicle. Klaus reclined slightly, his posture easing as he sought to alleviate the persistent ache of his injury. With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself a moment of respite from the demands of their journey.
Opposite him, Franz remained vigilant, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse of the superhighway ahead. The rhythmic hum of the engine filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional sound of passing vehicles and the soft rustle of leaves as they swept across the asphalt.
In the quiet solitude of the car, each man found solace in his own thoughts, contemplating the events of the day and the challenges that lay ahead. For Klaus, the pain of his injury served as a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked in their path, while Franz remained ever vigilant, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble.
Startled by the sudden intrusion of Franz's voice over the comms, Klaus's attention snapped back to the present moment. With a quick shake of his head to clear away the remnants of his reverie, he reached for the communication device, his curiosity piqued by Franz's unexpected question.
"Go ahead, What's on your mind?" Klaus responded, his voice calm and steady despite the surprise of being interrupted.
"At first glance," Klaus began, his voice measured as he recollected his initial impressions of the cyborg Lieutenant, "she dresses neatly, just like how the Academy taught her to do so..." His words trailed off momentarily as he contemplated the memory.
Franz listened intently, his curiosity piqued by Klaus's description.
"Well, honestly," Klaus continued, a hint of surprise coloring his tone, "I never expected her to be a little taller than me..." He paused, attempting to recall the precise details of their encounter. "I estimated around 3-5 inches taller?" he ventured uncertainly.
Franz, however, was quick to offer a plausible explanation.
Klaus couldn't help but crack a wry smile at Franz's reaction, his expression tinged with amusement at the sergeant's playful jab. "I took what I know then multiplied," he reiterated, his tone dry as he explained his methodology. "The soles of her high heels are similar in length to a ballpoint pen." But Franz's laughter echoed through the communication system, filling the air with its infectious energy.
"No no no no no no, we do not discuss about her rear!"
"Maybe tempting, but I have self-respect for myself..."
"Sometimes I always ask myself how we became close friends, Sergeant..."
<...And how easy it was too!>
"Whatever..."
"Didn't I tell you our designated location back then?"
<...You may consider retirement, sir.>
"I'm kidding, head to the Citadel."
Half an hour passed, and they found themselves a few meters away from the heavily guarded blast gates leading to the military headquarters in the Eibenberg section. From their vantage point, the imposing superstructure loomed in the distance, its towering presence commanding fear, intimidation and control.
As they approached, the blast gates stood as a formidable barrier, their reinforced steel gleaming ominously in the harsh light of the setting sun. Armed guards stood watch at strategic intervals along the perimeter, their vigilant gazes scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble.
As the convoy approached the military headquarters, a scout drone soared through the air towards General Klaus's vehicle and his escorts, its sleek form cutting through the sky with precision. Equipped with advanced scanning technology, the drone's mission was clear: to identify any potential third-party devices that were not affiliated with Hildenian technology.
With practiced efficiency, the armed guards stationed at the blast gates pre-aimed their weapons at the approaching vehicles, their training kicking in as they followed standard procedure. Each guard remained vigilant, their senses heightened as they awaited confirmation of the convoy's identity and intentions.
Meanwhile, high above, the scout drone's sensors whirred to life, scanning the convoy with meticulous attention to detail. Its advanced algorithms sifted through the data in real-time, searching for any anomalies or signs of unauthorized technology that might pose a threat to the military headquarters and its occupants.
"Unfortunately for me, death isn't interested with my life..."
"Aren't you trained to cook meals back then as a Private?"
"Consider enrolling to Culinary Arts... I don't have that much time to teach you..."
"Perhaps I could charge 50,000 Hildenian marks for it..."
<...>
"..."
<...I think it's more economical to attend a culinary arts school...>
And with that, their conversation shifted back to the pressing matters at hand, their lighthearted exchange providing a brief respite from the tension of their surroundings. As they continued on their journey, Klaus and Franz remained ever vigilant, their bond strengthened by their shared experiences and the camaraderie that united them in their mission.
As the drone completed its scan and confirmed General Klaus's identity and that of his escort guards, the guards stationed at the blast gates received the information relayed by the drone. With a nod of acknowledgment, they swiftly confirmed the General's identity and signaled for the gates to be opened.
"Öffne das Tor!" one of the guards ordered, his voice firm and authoritative as he directed the operators of the gate to proceed. In response to his command, the operators sprang into action, activating the mechanisms that would grant access to the convoy.
With a low rumble, the blast gates began to creak open, their reinforced steel panels sliding apart with a precision born of years of rigorous maintenance. Slowly but steadily, the imposing barriers yielded to the combined efforts of the guards and the gate operators, parting to allow passage to General Klaus and his escort guards. As the blast gates began their slow descent, a warning siren blared from the top of the pillars, its shrill sound echoing through the air. The piercing alarm served as a cautionary signal, alerting anyone in the vicinity that the gates were in motion and urging them to proceed with caution to avoid any potential injuries.
As the blast gates completed their ascent and fully opened, the convoy of vehicles began to inch forward, their engines humming with restrained power. With a nod from General Klaus, the convoy slowly accelerated, rolling through the open gate and into the confines of the military base.
As they entered the base, the guards stationed at the entrance snapped to attention, their movements crisp and precise as they rendered a salute to General Klaus. The salute was a gesture of respect and recognition, acknowledging his rank and authority as they welcomed him into the heart of the military complex.
The infrastructure rose from the landscape like a monolithic fortress, its imposing structure dominating the skyline with an air of authority and strength. Tall, reinforced walls encircled the compound, their sturdy construction a testament to the fortress-like security measures in place. Guard towers dotted the perimeter at strategic intervals, their watchful sentinels surveying the surrounding terrain with unwavering vigilance.
At the heart of the complex, the main administrative building stood as a beacon of command and control. Its sleek facade exuded an aura of modernity, with reflective windows glinting in the sunlight and polished surfaces gleaming under the watchful gaze of the sun.
Flanking the main building were various auxiliary structures, each serving a specific purpose within the hierarchy of the military command. Barracks housing troops, training facilities, and logistics centers sprawled across the compound, their utilitarian designs blending seamlessly with the overall aesthetic of the headquarters.
Throughout the complex, disciplined formations of soldiers moved with purpose, their uniforms crisp and their demeanor resolute as they carried out their duties with precision and efficiency. The air was alive with the sound of disciplined footsteps, barked commands, and the hum of machinery, creating a palpable sense of order and discipline that permeated every corner of the compound.
"General, are you sure you're comfortable walking around with a bandage on your face?" Franz's concern for Klaus was evident in his voice. He considered the question for a moment before responding with a reassuring tone, "It's fine, Franz. As long as I still have my eyesight, I'm good." His words carried a sense of resilience, a determination to carry on despite the injuries he had sustained.
As the convoy came to a halt at the designated drop area outside the administrative building, the officer, a Major, stood poised and alert, his gaze fixed expectantly on the approaching vehicles. His uniform was immaculate, the insignia of his rank gleaming as he awaited the General's arrival.
As General Klaus emerged from the SUV, his presence commanded attention despite the bandages that adorned his face. The Major's expression shifted from anticipation to shock and concern as he caught sight of his injuries. His eyes widened, revealing the depth of his surprise and the gravity of the General's condition. Aware of the General's desire to avoid drawing attention to his condition, the Major respected his silent stance and refrained from commenting on his injuries. Despite his initial shock, he maintained his professionalism, offering a respectful nod of acknowledgment before falling into step beside him.