Sonya remembered that feeling from her childhood the moment she stepped inside the iternian facility. Cold. The air inside of the facility was not the dry and hot air of the Ravaged Lands or Wastes. No, it was a cooling and soothing air of Iterna itself, instead of tearing at your lungs, this air almost gently flowed into your throat with each inhale. And the temperature inside was far too cold for the wolfkins, who preferred the burning heat of the Ravaged Lands.
Sonya paid the cold no mind, walking straight to the receptionist. Her body will adjust, albeit with small difficulties. While she waited in line, she looked around at the pristine walls of the facility, painted in blue and white. The air conditioners were installed in the walls, working soundlessly, a few guards were standing in the corner of the vast hall, holding their hands, covered by the steek of power armor, on the stun batons. On the floor in the middle of the hall was painted the symbol of Iterna, a mighty oak, spreading its branches and roots far and wide.
This facility also had a medical station where iternians treated travelers who had lost their way or simply came to this place in hopes of finding water. Once treated, such people were later escorted to nearby cities and villages.
"Next, please."
"Yes, sorry, sir." Sonya snapped away from all distractions, walking toward the table. A man, in his early twenties from the looks of it, sat behind it, flashing a perfect white smile to Sonya. He barely glanced at her ID, quickly pressing something on a nearby terminal and giving her an electronic ticket. The scout returned the smile, surprised that her appearance did not bother him at all.
"Thank you for helping us out with the… raiders' problem, miss Sonya," The receptionist said, beckoning Sonya to look into a strange circle device on the table. She took off her glasses, obeying the command, and a weak light ran over her right eye, scanning the retina, "But please, avoid any vigilantism in the future. Iterna will compensate all material losses. Lives are all that matters. "
"With all due respect, sir, if you don’t want people to protect themselves, then maybe you should keep the roads safe for travel. You can’t expect me to just hand over my stuff."
"A valid point, and we are deeply sorry for endangering the lives of tourists like this. We have no excuse, except for the fact that the government is already preparing patrols. Please understand, we never had to keep our own soldiers for protection in the Ravaged Lands, miss. The Regulators and Bento tribe kept the situation under control before." The man replied to her with a honeyed smile.
"I accept this reproach, sir." Sonya smiled openly at him, pressing one paw to her chest. A confused look came on his face, but the scout stopped any excuse with a shrug of her shoulders, putting her glasses back on.
The man was right, naturally. The state now owned this part of the Ravaged Lands, and it was their duty, her duty, to ensure the safety and prosperity of the locals. For now, they have been failing in some of their duties, concentrating on bringing up the populace centers back to a self-sustaining level while ignoring deserters from the regulators’ ranks.
Sonya went through the automatic doors, coming to the platform. Before she went inside the awaiting train, the scout looked up, seeing the edge of the energy shield that marked the edge of Iterna’s territory. The air trembled slightly while the massive force shield, which was coming from the very space, was working. The shield’s edge touched the entrance of the facility, allowing people to come inside but not allowing anyone to circle over the facility and hop onto the train. In theory, at least. In practice, Sonya saw several heavily armed guards walking over the platform, checking terminals on their wrists and receiving data from the underground sensors.
Iterna’s shield was almost indestructible. Three hundred years ago, it endured the wave of destruction that swiped around the war, preserving this country. And according to the history books, back then the shield’s radius was far smaller, with the ever expanding of their country, iternians moved the shield facility from the ground all the way to space, placing several shield generators into orbital stations while leaving the ground facility turned off. This shield could endure meteor strikes, the rage of nature, could stop poisonous gases and radiation, along with dangerous emanations from glow. However, new breeds with spatial manipulation abilities, as well as those who could simply dig beneath the shield, could and did bypass this shield in the past. To stop such unwanted guests, iternians prepared a host of countermeasures, including a massive hill-sized mech staying in a crouching position behind the facility.
A small, two-car long train arrived at the station, and Sonya walked inside, pressing her ticket to a device near the doors. She walked in and sat, feeling how the seat behind her shifted. Judging by the surprising gasps of kids, it was their first time. Sonya herself relaxed, leaning back as much as possible, while the solid looking seat enveloped her back, providing for the maximum relaxation, becoming soft enough to hold her body and provide a soothing experience. Iterna sure knew its craft, the scout admitted this much grudgingly, remembering how scared she and her mom were back when they first experienced this. The usage of nanomachines in even such simple things like seats was something that made her mind go round even to this day.
Just where do they get the energy to power up all of it? This station that they left housed at least a few dozen soldiers and one giant mech. Anyone else would have built a full workstation and barracks to maintain this task force, but not Iterna. Their armors maintained themselves, slowly repairing and even cleaning themselves, while their mechs required little maintenance. With time, the cracks in mechs' armors will close and the insides will reconnect. All thanks to the nanomachines that iternians used in abundance. The Reclamation Army tried to copy this technology, but without an adequate energy source, it was all in vain. Only the elite forces of the state had armor and weapons made with the use of nanotech, and even they paled in comparison to Iterna's analogs.
Sonya shook her head, reaching for the book. On the book’s cover, crouching on a city’s wall, something that barely resembled a wolfkin, a werewolf judging by the name of the book, was about to leap on a knight in shining armor. The man had his shield put forward, his sword arm ready to strike, while a woman in a slightly revealing dress was standing behind him. According to the description, this was a slasher horror story, something about a curse that followed a certain town.
Is she really interested in this? Sonya tried to understand, opening the book anew. Roggo confirmed that Lizzie was still reading these books from time to time, even going so far as to buy a sixth book in the series, but… Reading about how the werewolf was tearing insides from a wounded man and laying them on the ground for him to see, getting high on the man’s terror, Sonya prayed to Spirits that her niece would not be in some weird stuff. The scout massaged the bridge of her nose, trying to understand how this werewolf could come back after being stabbed in the heart with a silver dagger and later being burned alive in the previous book.
The scout hastily put away the book, feeling how her terminal buzzed in her pocket. Taking it out, Sonya saw a direct call from the command. Worried sick that the Resistance could break the ceasefire or that she was being recalled for some other reason, Sonya answered the call, and the display came to life, showing Alpha’s face.
"Sonya, nice work dealing with the brigands." Alpha said, her voice a rumbling of bones crushing against each other. No one in their right mind could accuse the strongest warlord of being pretty. Her face looked like it was cut from the palest alabaster by an unskilled sculptor, so rough were her almost square features. The curves of her head were rough and sharp. When the warlord spoke, she showed two rows of fangs, the front row meant to leave bleeding wounds. The fangs in the back row were meant to be used for chewing and tearing, leaving anything that fell to them just dust. Alpha’s ears were round, rather than triangle-shaped. The most curious thing about her was the fact that she utterly lacked any fur. Her flame-like hair was gathered into a short topknot.
"Thank you, ma’am!" Sonya saluted, looking into the amber eyes of the warlord. The whites of Alpha’s eyes were a purple color, another weird difference.
"At ease. Sonya, if you can’t afford a rejuvenation shot, consider replacing your eyes. Your attacks were half assed, the hostilities are still alive."
"I can get around just fine by sniffing and hearing," Sonya said as she closed her eyes to rest, "And I intended to take them alive."
"Soft," Alpha spat the word through tightly pressed lips, "Sonya, these shitheads presented you with a chance to off them. And you decided to spare these incorrectible little shits. Now the state will have to feed and heal them."
"Incorrectible. Like that bitch Hekanta was?" Sonya opened her eyes, locking eyes with the warlord. She was thankful to that piece of shit of a human for saving Yuki’s life, but seeing this unworthy former slaver bossing Janine around and walking with a smug smile on her face when she should have been thankful for staying alive was… barely tolerable.
"The medic was lucky enough to have another chance. Not everyone needs one." Alpha responded, cutting off the contact.
This is where you are wrong, warlord. Sonya decided, picking up the book anew. We all need another chance to make things right.
****
"Nice to see her trust in me," Hekanta said, lighting a cigarette.
The warlord called her to help turn on and off the terminal shortly after the military meeting was concluded. Scorpio and Ivar left Alpha in charge of setting up defenses in the conquered lands, and the warlord spent the past eight hours discussing plans and assigning troops and commanders to the regions. Hekanta knew nothing about military or government parts, but seeing caravans carrying cattle, food, and medicine arrive in the Ravaged Lands on a daily basis from the Core Lands was a pleasant sight. At least the locals won’t starve, if nothing else.
The hall was vast, and the long table took up much of it. In the past few days, the Regulators gathered here in order to have celebrations. Now the table was covered with maps, terminals, ashtrays, and cups. The servants will have a field day cleaning the room.
"Medic. No smoking," Alpha commanded, turning to Hekanta. Alpha had three fingers, if you could call them that, on each paw and foot. Her claws were not retracted; in large part, her claws were in her fingers. The medic saw an x-ray picture of Alpha’s claws. In her arms, they came all the way from her elbows, in her feet, they came directly from her ankles, curving slightly. The sharpness of her claws boggled the mind, Hekanta read in records that Alpha once thrust her claws through fourteen armored plates, made of a special durable alloy. And she could have thrust further, but the length of her claws stopped her, "And stop thinking that everyone is obligated to accept you right away. Tell me," Hekanta failed to see Alpha’s movements, only seeing that the warlord had crossed the entire hall faster than a bullet and now towered over her, "Do you consider your current position worse than before?"
"No, ma’am." Hekanta answered honestly, throwing the cigarette into the ashtray.
The medic wasn’t lying. When she served under Hilda, she failed to earn her freedom. Back then, all she ever felt was fear. Fear that Hilda might discard her, giving her up to Palatine or Hecktricktsen to toy with. Later, she lost even her servitude to the cold walls of the Torment. The fear was gone, but pain came instead, the warden of the Torment believed in penance through pain. The second chance arrived, and Hekanta resolved to make things right this time. To live without either fear or pain, doing a worthy job instead of killing others in the arena.
"Then keep on working and respect will come," Alpha looked up, her nostrils, set way too high on her snout, almost between her ears, moved in disgust, sensing the smoke in the hall, "Already came it seems, judging by how Janine acts around you. How is Csonka?"
"Settled just fine in the best mental ward in the Core Lands. Still having nightmares, little surprise there."
"You also filed the request to have Ron and Blaze on the line with her, all the time during the ceasefire," Alpha narrowed her eyes, "Why didn’t you mention it?"
"I am not her healing doctor and this is unrelated to her current condition," Hekanta mumbled, looking down. She hated these moments, "It was just my personal recommendation, based on my own mental recovery," Alpha smacked her down every time she tried to sneak away behind her lady's back to relieve some of her load, "It’s not my area of expertise."
"I approved it," Alpha simply said, walking toward the exit, "Keep on the good work, medic. Turn off the terminal and help me equip the harness, I have a meeting with civil representatives. You, on the other hand, are free."
"But ma’am, the harness is…" Hekanta tried to argue against using this torture device. The harness was a series of mechanical arms, made specifically for Alpha. With it, she was able to write, answer terminals, and even pour herself a drink. The downside was that the harness was installed along her back, drilling into her spine and connecting with the spinal cord.
"You have patients in need of care and your own job to do. I’ll live just fine; meanwhile, Marco might work himself to death. Make him take a rest from time to time and…" Alpha looked back, "Do take care of Yuki. Janine is really worried about her, and this puts an additional load on me."
