Forward Operating Base

The deafening rumble of the Mammoth Transport engines filled the air as civilians and nuns hurried aboard, their faces etched with relief and exhaustion. Amidst the controlled chaos, Sister Marianne broke away from the crowd, her habit billowing slightly in the gusts created by the transport's thrusters. She ran toward SABER-1, who stood motionless near the edge of the landing zone, his massive frame a sentinel against the night.

"SABER-1!" she called, her voice carrying over the noise.

He turned, his glowing visor catching the faint light of the scene. Marianne slowed as she approached, her breath slightly uneven from her haste. Clutched in her hands was the small communicator he had given her earlier.

"I just wanted to thank you again," she said, her voice warm but firm. "For everything. I don't have the words to express how much you've done for us."

SABER-1 stood silent, his towering presence imposing as ever, but she pressed on. "I also wanted to return this," she continued, holding out the communicator. "We won't need it anymore. You've brought us to safety."

He looked at the device in her outstretched hand but made no move to take it. "Keep it," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "When your God rejects you, you can call upon the Devil."

Marianne blinked at his words, a mixture of surprise and amusement crossing her face. Instead of recoiling, she smiled—a soft, knowing smile that seemed to radiate calm.

"I don't see a Devil," she replied gently, her tone unwavering. "But I'll definitely call when I'm in need."

Her sincerity caught even him off guard, though he didn't show it. He simply nodded, the faintest gesture of acknowledgment. Without another word, Marianne turned back toward the Mammoth, her steps unhurried as she rejoined her flock.

As the engines roared louder, preparing for depature, SABER-1 glanced down at the small rosary Sister Lydia had given him earlier. The worn beads rested in his massive hand, their simplicity stark against the grime and gore coating his armor.

For a brief moment, he stood there, unmoving, as if lost in thought. Then, a low chuckle escaped him—a rare sound, barely audible over the cacophony of the battlefield. Carefully, he opened a small compartment in the chest of his armor, sliding the rosary inside before sealing it shut.

"Fitting," he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with something almost resembling amusement.

As the Mammoth Transport rumbled off, its powerful treads kicking up dust and debris, SABER-1 turned back toward the darkened horizon. The fight wasn't over, and he had more work to do. But for now, he carried with him the quiet gratitude of those he had saved and a symbol of their faith—a fragile reminder of humanity's resilience amidst the darkness.

The control room in Shirley Temple was a cacophony of disbelief and confusion, the air heavy with unanswered questions and fraught whispers. The holographic battle map showed the 140th Infantry Division and 9th Infantry Regiment finally making their way to SABER-1's last known position. Their icon on the map blinked alongside the 56th Tank Battalion, now stationary after their arduous trek.

A communications officer stood frozen at her console, her headset pressed tightly to her ears as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Repeat that, Commander," she said, her voice shaky. "You're saying… SABER-1 is gone?"

The room quieted at her words, heads snapping toward the central console. The holographic map magnified, showing the blinking markers of the 140th and 9th clustered around the 56th's tanks, all gathered at a clearing near the remnants of the Cathedral.

Another officer, a tall man with a sharp jawline and a furrowed brow, strode toward the central console. "What do you mean, gone? He was holding that position for hours. He couldn't just vanish."

The communications officer shook her head, her voice tinged with disbelief. "The 140th commander reports that SABER-1 left before they arrived. He gave them a simple directive: 'Set up shop and secure it.' That's all."

A ripple of confusion spread through the room. Analysts and officers began speaking over one another, their voices rising as theories and assumptions filled the air.

"Why would he leave without notifying us?"

"Where did he go?"

"Did he even have a new objective?"

"He just left them orders to dig in? That doesn't make sense!"

Icarus sat in the corner, biting her lip as she listened to the commotion. Her hands clenched into fists as frustration bubbled inside her, not they he had left, but that he had left without her lifting him. "Elfy," she muttered under her breath, her nickname for him slipping out, though no one noticed. "What the hell are you up to now?"

A senior officer, a grizzled veteran with gray hair and a perpetually stern expression, raised his voice to cut through the noise. "Enough! What's the status of the 140th and 9th now?"

The communications officer nodded, focusing on her console. "They're following the order, sir. The 56th is coordinating with them to establish a forward operating base at the Cathedral ruins. Supplies are being distributed, and defensive perimeters are being set up."

The senior officer frowned, his gaze fixed on the holographic map. "A forward operating base? That's not SABER-1's style. He doesn't just dig in—he strikes, moves, and dominates. Why leave such a static order?"

No one had an answer, the silence in the room almost as deafening as the earlier chaos.

On the live feed, the 140th and 9th soldiers were seen unloading equipment and setting up barricades around the Cathedral ruins. Engineers worked on constructing prefabricated structures while the 56th Mammoth Tanks held strategic positions at key choke points. The troops moved with purpose, but there was a palpable unease among them.

"This place is… unsettling," one soldier murmured to his squadmate as they hammered stakes into the ground. "All those bodies piled up like walls. It's like he was building his own fortress."

"Yeah," another replied, glancing at the grotesque remains of the Extractants stacked in grotesque mounds. "It's like he was daring them to keep coming."

Meanwhile, the analysts back in the control room scrutinized the feeds. One of them, a younger officer with sharp eyes, pointed at a section of the map. "Look at this," she said. "The way the Extractants retreated when the 140th and 9th arrived… It's almost like they were being herded."

"Herded where?" someone asked.

The young officer frowned, her finger tracing the map. "That's just it. SABER-1 didn't lead them away; he forced them into this area and contained them. This wasn't a retreat. It was… preparation."

The room fell silent again as the realization began to dawn on everyone. SABER-1's directive to establish a forward operating base wasn't just a random command—it was deliberate. He had turned the Cathedral into a fortified position, a base of operations where reinforcements could consolidate and push forward.

"But why leave?" someone finally asked, breaking the silence.

No one had an answer.

In the ruins, the commanders of the 140th and 9th exchanged uneasy glances as they reviewed their new task. The 56th's tanks rumbled in the background, their crews scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. Soldiers dug trenches, set up watchtowers, and positioned artillery, their movements efficient but laced with an undercurrent of confusion.

"Do you think he's coming back?" one of the commanders asked, his voice low.

The other shook his head. "If he wanted us to know where he was going, he'd have told us. For now, we follow orders and hold this place. That's what he wants." But as the minutes ticked by and no new information about SABER-1 surfaced, the tension only grew. Whatever his plan was, he was keeping it to himself. For now, the Cathedral was secure, and the soldiers were holding—but the mystery of his disappearance lingered, gnawing at everyone's nerves.

Icarus sat back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, her flight suit slightly unzipped at the top to let her breathe after the tension of the last few hours. The chatter and chaos in the control room buzzed around her, but she wasn't paying attention. Instead, her eyes were fixed on a blank spot on the far wall, her thoughts somewhere far away.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she leaned her head back against the chair, letting out a soft chuckle. "Unreasonable demands," she murmured to herself. "That's his specialty."

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees as she stared at the holographic map still displaying the Cathedral's fortified position. The markers for the 56th, 140th, and 9th blinked steadily, their positions holding strong. Despite the uncertainty and confusion swirling in the room, she couldn't help but feel a sense of calm.

"Knowing him, he's already three steps ahead," she said under her breath, the smile growing wider. "And by the time we catch up, he'll have us running around like headless chickens."

Standing up, she stretched, her hands reaching toward the ceiling as a soft groan escaped her lips. She shook out her arms, her eyes still on the map, and then smoothed down her flight suit. "Better get ready," she said to no one in particular, her voice light but determined.

Turning toward the exit, she paused and glanced over her shoulder, her smile now a full grin. "If there's one thing I've learned flying for him, it's to always be prepared for the impossible."

She laughed softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she headed out of the room, her stride purposeful. "Whatever you're cooking up this time, Elfy," she added under her breath, "I'll be ready."