Chapter 207 - The Expeditionary Force (Patreon)

Chapter 207

Red Sands Desert, Contested Border Region

Elkis Republican Army Expeditionary Force Main Camp

"General."

General Coledar Victis, technically second in command to General Amelia Loveheart in the Republic Expeditionary Force, but in truth her replacement, looked up from his breakfast at his most trusted subordinate, Major Illira Oralis.

"Major. Would you care to join me?"

"Sir, a convoy has arrived."

"Ah. Our overdue friend finally came home?" He smiled, before his face fell as he saw the Major's face.

"No sir. It's the next convoy. They made better time than expected. Sir…they say they spotted debris fields among the dunes when arriving."

"...Shit." Debris fields, and no news from the other convoy? Not good.

At all.

"Yeah. I figured you'd like to talk to the convoy master in person, so I took the liberty of having him set aside." The Major caught Coledar's longing look at his steaming pile of bacon and fresh biscuits, and smiled. "I'll have your breakfast brought up. And give instructions to the cook to get something for the convoy master as well."

"Get something for you while you're at it." He glared at her as she shrugged. "Illira, a mug of coffee and a cigarette isn't breakfast."

"I have ration bars."

"And I wouldn't even qualify that stuff as food." With reason. Out of all the 'knowledge of the Old World' he could have done without, ration bars were among the top of the list, alongside murderous automata and whatever caused the mutated abominations that crawled out of Seaside Nine. 'Nutritionally optimal and long lasting' or not, the stuff was so bland it felt like chewing cardboard. Stars knew where the senate had found the stuff, although he'd bet it had come from the same place or sponsor that had gotten the spec ops their damned teleporter. "I really don't understand why you've taken a liking to this stuff."

"Its an acquired taste."

"Your tobacco has busted your taste buds as well as your lungs my friend." The General shrugged as the Major gave him a withering glare. "Alright, suit yourself. Where's the caravan master being…hosted?" He avoided saying 'held' at the last second.

"Quartermaster's tent."

"Good." If nothing else, the army's quartermaster would need to know anyway, might as well include him from the get go. Plus, the man was a wizard when it came to logistics, always managing to do things that shouldn't be possible with what shipping they had. Like managing to get some fresh food, mainly fruits and vegetables, in on top of all the usual supplies, which had done wonders for the troops' morale. "Alright, lead the way, let's get his story."

It took only a dozen or so minutes to make their way through the camp into the quartermaster's tent. Unlike most of the high ranking officers, who preferred hanging around the General's own tent, he had pitched camp next to the supply train. Thankfully, the Elkis Republican Army was organized to a t, and the broad thoroughfare splitting the camp, built to allow large scale troop and supply movement made for easy going, especially when most soldiers were still carrying out their chores.

The spectacle of entire legions repairing gear, sharpening weapons, packing clothes or preparing meals lifted his spirit. He hadn't quite come from the rank and file, he had been qualified enough to earn commission upon enlistment, but he liked to remain close to his men. And that meant he had a far better feel for his soldier's morale than anyone except maybe for the NCOs, and morale was good. Despite everything that had happened to Amelia, his soldiers believed they could do this, and that he could lead them through it alive. It was heartening.

He nodded in thanks to one of his bodyguards as they flipped the tent flap open before him, and he stepped into the quartermaster's tent.

"Greetings, General." Said that worthy, giving him a brief salute from behind a stack of papers so tall it came up to his shin. "I hope you'll forgive me for starting without you? I wished to confirm some things."

"Of course not." Coledar nodded affably at the caravan master. To his credit, the man didn't look the slightest bit intimidated as he nodded back. In fact, he looked positively grim. Given what had probably happened to the other convoy, that was hardly surprising. "What did you confirm?"

"According to the debris fields, several ships were destroyed in a straight line. At least two. One of them was almost certainly a crashed Sword-class frigate." The General gritted his teeth. Two sword-class, the broadsword and the zweihander, had been accompanying the overdue convoy. "The convoy didn't stop for a detailed inspection, but our friend here had the wits to order one of the escorts to circle around, to check for survivors and make sketches of the most intact wreck. It proved most insightful."

"Excellent. So you're sure?"

"As sure I can be without seeing the wreck myself. There was no trace of the Aegis however, so the frigate probably survived the engagement."

"If it was limping home the convoy would have stumbled upon them."

"Maybe, maybe not." Said the convoy master, and the General gave him a questionning look. The battered old man shrugged. "If I was under attack, the first thing I'd do is order the merchant ships to disperse. If the escorts won, they'd have to go off course, herd everyone back together. That can take a while, and would take you far off course. Combine that with combat damage…"

"And they might still be out there, trying to get home." The General nodded. "Do you think that's likely?"

The convoy master shrugged again, as a group of soldiers entered the tent, depositing food and drink in front of them, including the General's breakfast.

"Your guess' as good as mine, sir. I don't rightly know." He took a bite out of something that looked like a burger if someone had decided to that 'stuff it with eggs' was the answer to everything, spraying crumbs as he spoke. "My experience from leading convoys over normal land would tell me they're all dead, as they would have passed a message to a village or town along the way, or at least someone would have seen them and there'd be rumors swimming around the peasantry. But out here in this forsaken wasteland? No clue. They could travel hundreds of kilometers and come across nobody."

"An excellent point. Very well, let's hope they are just delayed, but plan on every single ship having been destroyed." That seemed to make the convoy master and quartermaster deeply uneasy. "I know, I know, not something we'd like to contemplate. Still, it means that there's something attacking our convoys out there. Ideas?"

"The only airfleet more pathetic than the Kingdom's is the Far Reach's. And even then, it's a close call." Said the Major, startling the caravan master, that had clearly taken her from one of those aides that are there more as furniture than anything. The General looked over his shoulder, and nodded in agreement and approval both, as the Major had taken a sandwich of her own. It wasn't much, but it was something. "So I think we can exclude raiders. Wasteland monsters seem more likely."

"We haven't seen any so far."

"Yeah, but I think I know why." The Major gave the General a meaningful look. "We're close to Rebirth, and we all know that Old World…ruins repel monsters."

The General nodded slowly. The Major pretty clearly meant the artifact the senate had given them to keep the sand krakens at bay. Maybe it did more than that. In which case, there may be wasteland monsters prowling around, following them the deeper they went in, until a pack reached a critical mass and attacked a convoy.

"Flying monsters then. Otherwise the overland caravans would have taken a pounding as well." Noted the General, and the quartermaster nodded.

"None of them have been any later than usual." Slippage in schedule was a certainty in the wastelands. Hence why they had such substantial supply stores with them.

Still…

The General sighed.

"Whatever it is, we need to protect our supply lines. We carry a lot of our stuff with us, but we can't afford to lose our convoys." Especially as many of the ships were requisitioned vessels, and every one that fell or disappeared would create an uproar in the Republic, from the owners and the families of the vanished alike. It would also put emphasis on the remaining civilians to desert. Crews were already slipping into the night at every occasion, forcing Amelia to order special patrols and impose a curfew on Erakis, but if it got bad enough, and they didn't look like they were protecting the civvies…whole ships would cut and run. And that would get very bad, very fast. Right now only the threat of legal and financial reprisals were keeping the captains in line. Once it became more dangerous to obey than not, his airlift capacity would melt faster than ice cream in this damned wasteland. "Alright. I want you to start reinforcing the convoys. Take ships from the fleet if necessary."

"The admiral won't be happy."

"He'll live with it. Tell him he can detail some of his capital ships to accompany the escorts if he wants. Make it a training exercise."

"That would slow down the convoys." Said the quartermaster, but the Major was only smiling, which the General reciprocated. They both knew Artay, the admiral of the fleet accompanying the army, wouldn't part with his capital ships unless directly ordered to. The man was masking it behind a front of impoliteness and brusqueness, but he was utterly terrified of the dungeon, and kept his fleet tight like his personal shield, seeing dungeon armies and giant siege guns behind every dune.

At least it made it so he was doing aggressive reconnaissance, but his paranoia was becoming as grating for his men as for the ground troops, and he expected the captain for the escort ships to positively pounce on the chance of fighting hordes of monsters rather than do endless attack runs on possible, but imaginary targets, and be constantly woken up in the middle of the night by false alarms.

"It would, but I doubt it will come to that." Said the General, as neutrally as he could. "In the meantime, I believe it may be time for a pause in our march."

"Sir?"

"Let us accumulate some supplies, and consolidate our supply lines. Plus, it will give the men some time to breathe, and I'm sure we can come up with some training exercises." He grimaced. "We could use some practice fighting out in the wasteland."

"Rebirth is hardly going to be this kind of terrain." Commented the Major.

"Perhaps not, but they could sortie." The General shrugged as everyone gave him an incredulous look. "Sounds mad, I know, but they did it against Amelia. They might do it against us. Regardless, it will keep the men occupied and their minds off of the supply situation while we get things straightened out."

"That it will. They'll be too busy bitching to think about it, that's for sure."

The General nodded, smiling…and reflecting that if his fears, the ones he kept the closest to his heart, came to be realized, they would need every bit of that training.

Because just like Rebirth had demonstrated the year before, if enough monsters got together, and the target was tempting enough, they would overcome the repulsion effect of Old World ruins.

And if the artifact was indeed having the same effect…every second spent training his men in the environment these abominations were born in would be worth its weight in gold before long.

"Then it is agreed. Major, would you be so kind to ask the admiral for a meeting? Then quartermaster, I want you to consolidate what convoys we can, and reinforce the ones we can't."

"It'll play hell with the schedules."

"That's why I'm stopping the army. We won't get underway again until you've got it back under control."

"Thank you sir."

"Don't mention it." The General turned towards the convoy master. "As for you, do return to your convoy. And I assure you, you will be commended for your initiative and insights. You may have just saved many crews."

"Thank you sir." Said the civilian, inclining his head.

"Now, let us adjourn." He looked at his breakfast, bitterly. Back to his tent.

The quartermaster coughed.

"Perhaps we could wait until we have finished our meals."

The General smiled.

"We could. And we shall. But let us not talk shop then." He gave Illira a meaningful look, and the Major froze, halfway through sneaking her way out. The woman sighed, before grabbing a chair and accepting the General's addition to her meager sandwhich. "So, convoy master, what are the news from Erakis, and the Republic beyond?"