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“…and I’m afraid that’s everything we’ve turned up, Sir.” Lieutenant Hawkeye finished, tucking the report back under her arm, “Frankly sir, we’re turning up dead ends on most fronts. Master Sergeant Fuery is doing his best to reverse engineer that piece of metal, but he told me not to expect anything soon. We still don’t really understand what that thing was, let alone how to adapt it for ourselves.”
“So you’re saying we’re out of leads?” Lieutenant Colonel Mustang grimaced as the pair strode through the hallways of Markovian central command. “What about the Unmaking creatures we fought before the Syntech Abyss? One of them had been trapped under the…”
Lieutenant Hawkeye shook her head with a faint frown.
“Dead, Sir.” She spoke simply but firmly, “From what we could determine it seemed to have survived the building’s initial collapse. The current suspicion is that it took its own life to evade capture. There was precious little remaining that we could even study, not that it matters, sir. The site is now under extreme censure, seems only a few generals, along with some of Palalxia’s agents, have access to any details of the investigation going on there anymore.”
“I see. Any chance Brigadier General Carillus was on that list?” Mustang glanced towards her with a raised eyebrow.
“Not that I could see, Colonel. Why do you ask?”
“Too bad.” Mustang shrugged, “The Brigadier General wants to speak with me, most likely to give me his thoughts on my most recent outing to the Comet. If he’d had access it would have been something to get out of the conversation aside from a critique.”
Lieutenant Hawkeye did not respond to that statement, and the two walked in silence until they reached the door to the Brigadier general’s office.
“Wait here, Lieutenant. I expect this won’t be long.”
“Of course.”
Lieutenant Hawkeye took up a position against the wall nearby, documents in hand. Mustang took a breath to compose himself than knocked and entered the office. Brigadier General Carillus rotated his chair around from the window as Mustang made his way into the office space.
“You said it was urgent sir?” Lieutenant Colonel Mustang stood at attention, saluting crisply.
“Lieutenant, Colonel! Punctual as ever I see.” The Turian waved Mustang to parade rest, then clasped his hands together in front of him.
“And how did you enjoy your little stint as Commander on the Comet?”
Mustang grimaced slightly.
“Permission to speak frankly, Sir?”
“Of course, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve no vested interest in Syntech’s goodwill.” The Turian leaned back, smiling faintly.
“I think that the game was in poorer taste this year than last, Sir. The Unmaking is not something to be used for publicity and ratings. It is a threat to the very foundations of our homes.”
The Brigadier General nodded his head slightly.
“I suppose not.” He responded simply, “But there were quite a few choices made on that comet worth questioning. Tell me, Lieutenant Colonel, Why abandon your position so casually?”
Mustang’s brow furrowed. He could already tell this was going to be one of those situations that seemed to linger in people’s minds. He would need to find a way to turn it to his advantage.
“Sir? I felt it both a sound tactical position, as well as the best way to preserve the lives of my men.” He kept his voice level and calm as he explained. He ignored the memory of the betrayed looks that Mirage and Wraith had worn as he had explained the situation to them in that tent by the pyramid.
“With Caer Thannith fallen to the Unmaking’s treachery, my men’s morale was unlikely to hold without consistent success. Combating Gilgamesh’s betrayal would have left us unable to effectively move against the Unmaking, even in victory. Instead, I was able to maintain a position that lead to the successful defeat of our opponents and preserve the lives of as many of my men as I could.“
A logical and sound explanation, but Mustang could tell from the Turian’s expression that it didn’t carry weight like the initial action presented.
“It just looks bad to see one of our own officers surrendering control to a loud-mouthed foreigner, Mustang!” Brigadier General Carillus sighed. It was difficult to tell whether the tone was sympathetic or simply underwhelmed.
“Regardless, you did manage to turn up some interesting information from your prisoner there. Quite a beast! And truthfully, I received this before the games had begun, so your performance on the comet didn’t even play into the decision.”
The Turian dug in his desk for a moment, then produced a very well-kept envelope.
“This was what I called you here for, Lieutenant Colonel.” He placed it on the desk, then slid it across towards Mustang with a faint frown of irritation. Mustang picked it up with a curious gaze, then froze, eyes wide. On the envelope, the seal….
“This… is…”
“Correct.” Carillus gruffed, “Seems like your little stunt during the siege went over well enough. Maybe you can keep the scandal on the comet nice and hidden between your achievements. Arbiter only knows why you are getting sealed orders like that.”
Mustang broke the royal seal of Palatinus, unfolding the letter. His eyes quickly darted through it’s contents, then read through a second time more carefully. The Turian grunted, walking over to pour himself a drink from the bottle on his shelf.
“Anything good, Mustang?” He asked after taking a sip, “All of us here in Markov could use some of that these days.”
“We’ll have to see for ourselves, Sir.” Mustang glanced up with a faint smirk. “But it seems our meeting isn’t finished just yet. I have some requests to make before I go.”
Mustang’s squad stood at attention in front of his desk. Mustang stood as well, his back to the window and his arms clasped comfortably behind him.
“At ease.” He barked, and the five of them fell into parade rest with a chorus of assents.
“All of you need to clear your calendars for the next few weeks.” Mustang met each of their gazes as he spoke, “We’ve got an expedition on our hands, and we’ll be travelling outside of the city limits for a decent time from the look of things.”
“Uhm, Sir?” The question came from Second Lieutenant Havoc, cigarette gripped in his teeth as he sheepishly smiled, “I’ve got a big date this weekend, Sir! Three month’s to the day!”
“Cancel it.” Mustang responded flatly. “We leave at dawn tomorrow, and we won’t be back until the end of the month.”
Second Lieutenant Havoc froze in dejected shock, Second Lieutenant Breda offering a sympathetic pat on the shoulder for his loss.
“We have direct orders from King Dulamare himself.” Mustang stated with an eager gleam to his eye. “This is the kind of opportunity that we can afford to waste! That is all.”
A round of salutes, then Mustang’s officers trailed out to begin the preparations for their departure. Lieutenant Hawkeye remained behind. Mustang allowed himself a self-congratulatory smirk.
“A pleasant surprise, wouldn’t you say Lieutenant?”
“Perhaps, Sir. We’ll need to handle this situation with extra care.”
“Of course! But a mission like this?” Mustang turned to face the window, staring out towards the sweeping towers of the nearby Palace.
“This is exactly how I’ll make my way to the top of this place.”
“So you’re saying we’re out of leads?” Lieutenant Colonel Mustang grimaced as the pair strode through the hallways of Markovian central command. “What about the Unmaking creatures we fought before the Syntech Abyss? One of them had been trapped under the…”
Lieutenant Hawkeye shook her head with a faint frown.
“Dead, Sir.” She spoke simply but firmly, “From what we could determine it seemed to have survived the building’s initial collapse. The current suspicion is that it took its own life to evade capture. There was precious little remaining that we could even study, not that it matters, sir. The site is now under extreme censure, seems only a few generals, along with some of Palalxia’s agents, have access to any details of the investigation going on there anymore.”
“I see. Any chance Brigadier General Carillus was on that list?” Mustang glanced towards her with a raised eyebrow.
“Not that I could see, Colonel. Why do you ask?”
“Too bad.” Mustang shrugged, “The Brigadier General wants to speak with me, most likely to give me his thoughts on my most recent outing to the Comet. If he’d had access it would have been something to get out of the conversation aside from a critique.”
Lieutenant Hawkeye did not respond to that statement, and the two walked in silence until they reached the door to the Brigadier general’s office.
“Wait here, Lieutenant. I expect this won’t be long.”
“Of course.”
Lieutenant Hawkeye took up a position against the wall nearby, documents in hand. Mustang took a breath to compose himself than knocked and entered the office. Brigadier General Carillus rotated his chair around from the window as Mustang made his way into the office space.
“You said it was urgent sir?” Lieutenant Colonel Mustang stood at attention, saluting crisply.
“Lieutenant, Colonel! Punctual as ever I see.” The Turian waved Mustang to parade rest, then clasped his hands together in front of him.
“And how did you enjoy your little stint as Commander on the Comet?”
Mustang grimaced slightly.
“Permission to speak frankly, Sir?”
“Of course, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve no vested interest in Syntech’s goodwill.” The Turian leaned back, smiling faintly.
“I think that the game was in poorer taste this year than last, Sir. The Unmaking is not something to be used for publicity and ratings. It is a threat to the very foundations of our homes.”
The Brigadier General nodded his head slightly.
“I suppose not.” He responded simply, “But there were quite a few choices made on that comet worth questioning. Tell me, Lieutenant Colonel, Why abandon your position so casually?”
Mustang’s brow furrowed. He could already tell this was going to be one of those situations that seemed to linger in people’s minds. He would need to find a way to turn it to his advantage.
“Sir? I felt it both a sound tactical position, as well as the best way to preserve the lives of my men.” He kept his voice level and calm as he explained. He ignored the memory of the betrayed looks that Mirage and Wraith had worn as he had explained the situation to them in that tent by the pyramid.
“With Caer Thannith fallen to the Unmaking’s treachery, my men’s morale was unlikely to hold without consistent success. Combating Gilgamesh’s betrayal would have left us unable to effectively move against the Unmaking, even in victory. Instead, I was able to maintain a position that lead to the successful defeat of our opponents and preserve the lives of as many of my men as I could.“
A logical and sound explanation, but Mustang could tell from the Turian’s expression that it didn’t carry weight like the initial action presented.
“It just looks bad to see one of our own officers surrendering control to a loud-mouthed foreigner, Mustang!” Brigadier General Carillus sighed. It was difficult to tell whether the tone was sympathetic or simply underwhelmed.
“Regardless, you did manage to turn up some interesting information from your prisoner there. Quite a beast! And truthfully, I received this before the games had begun, so your performance on the comet didn’t even play into the decision.”
The Turian dug in his desk for a moment, then produced a very well-kept envelope.
“This was what I called you here for, Lieutenant Colonel.” He placed it on the desk, then slid it across towards Mustang with a faint frown of irritation. Mustang picked it up with a curious gaze, then froze, eyes wide. On the envelope, the seal….
“This… is…”
“Correct.” Carillus gruffed, “Seems like your little stunt during the siege went over well enough. Maybe you can keep the scandal on the comet nice and hidden between your achievements. Arbiter only knows why you are getting sealed orders like that.”
Mustang broke the royal seal of Palatinus, unfolding the letter. His eyes quickly darted through it’s contents, then read through a second time more carefully. The Turian grunted, walking over to pour himself a drink from the bottle on his shelf.
“Anything good, Mustang?” He asked after taking a sip, “All of us here in Markov could use some of that these days.”
“We’ll have to see for ourselves, Sir.” Mustang glanced up with a faint smirk. “But it seems our meeting isn’t finished just yet. I have some requests to make before I go.”
---
Mustang’s squad stood at attention in front of his desk. Mustang stood as well, his back to the window and his arms clasped comfortably behind him.
“At ease.” He barked, and the five of them fell into parade rest with a chorus of assents.
“All of you need to clear your calendars for the next few weeks.” Mustang met each of their gazes as he spoke, “We’ve got an expedition on our hands, and we’ll be travelling outside of the city limits for a decent time from the look of things.”
“Uhm, Sir?” The question came from Second Lieutenant Havoc, cigarette gripped in his teeth as he sheepishly smiled, “I’ve got a big date this weekend, Sir! Three month’s to the day!”
“Cancel it.” Mustang responded flatly. “We leave at dawn tomorrow, and we won’t be back until the end of the month.”
Second Lieutenant Havoc froze in dejected shock, Second Lieutenant Breda offering a sympathetic pat on the shoulder for his loss.
“We have direct orders from King Dulamare himself.” Mustang stated with an eager gleam to his eye. “This is the kind of opportunity that we can afford to waste! That is all.”
A round of salutes, then Mustang’s officers trailed out to begin the preparations for their departure. Lieutenant Hawkeye remained behind. Mustang allowed himself a self-congratulatory smirk.
“A pleasant surprise, wouldn’t you say Lieutenant?”
“Perhaps, Sir. We’ll need to handle this situation with extra care.”
“Of course! But a mission like this?” Mustang turned to face the window, staring out towards the sweeping towers of the nearby Palace.
“This is exactly how I’ll make my way to the top of this place.”