Volume 2, Chapter 1 – Relocation and the Death of Aviana
I opened my eyes. Where am I? My head is spinning like someone hit it, my leg is bandaged, my arm is all scraped. But my body doesn't hurt — just nausea and weakness.
I sat up from the metal table and looked again.
It was some kind of green tent, like a medical one. Gowns, gloves, surgical instruments everywhere, and a strong smell of alcohol and medicine. At the exit, by the transparent tarp, stood two Soldier-functions.
Outside, I could hear generators and equipment running — from diesel to some turbines — and the clanking of tracks.
With heaviness and extreme weakness, I climbed off the table.
"Help," I asked the faceless one. He quickly came over. I held onto him, and we headed for the exit.
I could have asked him what happened, but I didn't want those monotonous reports — better to ask the officers. What happened to me and how did the deal go?
The tarp lifted easily, and I stepped onto a noisy road already covered with gravel. The first thing that hit my nose was the sea breeze, and a strong wind started pushing me, but thankfully I was holding onto the Soldier and didn't fly away.
It was some kind of base. Around the perimeter, three tiers of the largest HESCO were arranged, with faceless ones walking on them. Browning machine guns stood at the corners.
Inside, there were two parallel roads and one perpendicular. HMEEs and dump trucks moved along them. A platoon of a hundred Soldier-functions was marching toward the exit. All of this created a terrible stench and noise.
"Where are the officers? Lead me," I said, shocked, to the Soldier, and we headed to another tent, slightly dug into the ground.
"...Alpha, continue observations," was the first thing I heard when I entered this headquarters.
All 20 CUB officers were here, all busy with their laptop-briefcases, wires running to the roof where a pile of various antennas stood. There was a large map on the wall with arrows already drawn, and a CUB officer was briefing the others sitting on chairs.
What's going on?
"GOOD MORNING, COMMANDER!" they all shouted in unison, and I almost threw up from the decibels.
"Quiet... What's happening? Where are we? What happened to me? How did the deal go?" I asked lazily, with a rasp, approaching the officers and the map.
There was a large city by the sea labeled "Gramer," with information about it. Fields, small villages, roads around it. And a "headquarters" dot on the same shore, much lower. (Did we make a deal? But why the arrows — by sea and land, both around and straight along the coast?)
All the officers started to speak at once, except for Zumwalt and Aviana, who didn't seem interested.
"One at a time."
"Yes, sir!" the CUB Strategist took charge. "After the refusal of the Duchy's terms, Asa Miari removed the oxygen using magic and also destroyed the oxygen tank. She then launched a series of supersonic air attacks toward the Analyst, Paladin, and yourself. You sustained a leg wound, a concussion, and abrasions from debris. After you lost consciousness, CUB enacted the 'Evacuation' plan with air support, artillery, and Soldier-functions. We relocated to a coastal position for a better defensive stance while awaiting your orders," he finished recounting the background.
(The deal failed... And I almost died... But I don't want to die! Again! Why attack immediately after a refusal? I could have just moved to another territory if our terms didn't suit them — and theirs didn't suit us. I don't understand.)
"According to reconnaissance," he opened a file on his tablet and turned on a projector, illuminating the map as the lights in the tent went out, "all 48 riders were eliminated. [Slide of dozens of craters and a scorched clearing, with charred riders and horses scattered around] Asa and Alon survived and put up prolonged resistance. Our losses: 50 Soldier-functions. One F-35C. One Black Hawk. [Slide of damaged equipment] Of these, only the Black Hawk can be repaired. Asa and Alon have been reclassified as 'hostile' and given 'extremely dangerous' status."
(48 dead... And all because of my refusal? No! Why should I be guilty for almost dying? I was negotiating peacefully — the evacuation plan was only needed because I almost died, and if I die, the officers probably die too, even if they're not human. Still. I consider it self-defense. I really don't want to go to heaven — I doubt I'd be lucky enough for God to reincarnate me again.)
"Can we somehow negotiate with them?" I asked, sitting down next to the giant Paladin.
"Ten Soldier-functions were killed carrying white flags with 'truce' status near Gramer's walls. This was done to wait for your awakening. But they only received rejection."
(What about conventions? They probably haven't been invented in this world... But in any case, killing even a Spirit is cruel! In any case, the spirit came with peaceful intentions. Why?)
I sighed — how terrible.
I glanced at the CUB officers sitting at their computers, communicating with someone. How do they do that?
"Hey. How do your computers work?" I decided to change the subject. The officers and the Strategist were discussing details about the map and presentation.
"Six military orbital satellites — communication and GPS," the Clerk cut off briefly.
(What satellites? Where did they come from in the Middle Ages?)
"From where?"
"They come as part of the 'Democracy' ability package — they were deployed immediately after your appearance in this world," he explained without stopping his typing.
(Hoo-oh... God gave me satellites too — maybe I also have SpaceX and a hundred Boeings in my pocket?! Fine... Need to figure out what to do, how to stop this war.)
"How do we stop the war?"
"The process is going well. Since Gramer is the capital of both the Duchy and maritime trade, the Virginia was deployed on patrol. All ships are either turning back or going to the bottom. A naval blockade is in effect. According to our estimates, the Duchy has already lost over 300,000 Tsurk — in our currency, over 300 million dollars," the Strategist explained, clicking through slides showing the Virginia at sea and sailing ships.
"What? No. No need to sink them! In case of refusal, just land a Soldier-function and have them guide the ship to us. We'll make peace and return their ships," I explained my logic, hoping to avoid casualties. But I understood the Strategist's motive: no resources and a riot in the city — then there'll be no war.
"Problem. A soldier cannot leave the Virginia, as they are part of the ship. Delivery by helicopter is dangerous due to the unknown nature of magic and mages in this world. Deploying Arleigh is also impractical for the same reasons. The Virginia was chosen for its stealth and underwater capabilities," the Strategist countered my proposal.
(I see... So casualties are unavoidable... But it turns out:)
"Is there any place on this planet that doesn't belong to anyone?"
"Of course."
"Then recall everyone, and we'll just move away from the Duchy."
"Yes, sir!" he said, and all the CUB officers began packing their briefcases and gathering documents.
"But. The fauna in those areas is significantly more dangerous. According to satellite maps, there are creatures there that absorb magic like a vacuum cleaner," the Strategist added, taking the map off the wall as the other officers calmly dispersed.
"Are they alive?"
"According to reconnaissance and data from villages and other sources, these creatures have only one goal — feeding."
I thought... (If they're not intelligent, does it count as killing? On one hand, yes. But if these monsters kill indiscriminately, why not settle there and defend against them instead of against living people?)
"We'll figure it out."
And the fort began to be dismantled and disposed of. As I was told, to prevent the enemy from getting our technology — since we can replenish consumables, but giving technology to a world whose first action was to attack is inadvisable. While the fort was being taken apart, I didn't notice how I passed out at Paladin's feet.
---
Eight hours later
Deep night. A convoy of ten tanks, with a JLTV in the center where I was riding. In the sky, three F-35s constantly escorted us, and five Apaches flew very low. As I was told, equipment can be destroyed, but if I'm killed — that's death. So I was shielded on all sides by equipment, and Arleigh Burkes were deployed in the ocean, fully monitoring our movement — any "hostile" status near us would get a Tomahawk.
But even with such overwhelming force, CUB chose routes avoiding any populated areas, because it's unclear what magic is capable of and where mages are located. So I felt like I was in an egg with a sledgehammer hanging over my head.
The journey itself fascinated me. Five tanks ahead raced at breakneck speed, cutting through the night, raising huge clouds of smoke and announcing themselves with their strange turbine sound. In the center, I rode quietly, swaying slightly and peering through the small window at the Apaches that menacingly cut through the air — looking powerful even in the dark, especially flying so low over the ground... Mesmerizing. Behind, another five tanks followed, carefully scanning the terrain. And in the sky, fighters occasionally roared past with loud booms, scouting ahead and adjusting the route.
I felt a vibe from "Attack on Titan" — when the squad moved beyond the wall avoiding Titans — that's how this journey felt.
I was riding with Aviana. In case of a threat that could destroy the entire convoy, she would simply deploy the Gerald Ford aircraft carrier, and I'd find myself inside it amidst the endless fields.
And then silence. Dim light in the armored transport. We sat across from each other, swaying in different directions.
"How is it — commanding an aircraft carrier?" I tried to start a conversation. We'd been silent for an hour already.
"Simple," she answered coldly.
"Is it big — the carrier?" I tried again.
"Yes," she answered without interest, looking out the window, leaning one hand against the paneling.
"Flying planes — how is that?" I didn't give up.
"The same."
(Why is it so hard? It's not like she's a woman — I doubt that's the issue. She doesn't come off as arrogant like Zumwalt — who, according to CUB, had to be persuaded to go to sea for the Gramer blockade, though he did send the Virginia from his arsenal, but not a Zumwalt-class destroyer. Maybe it's hard for her to communicate because of those 4,540 "brain activities"?)
"How does it feel to control 4,540 Soldier-functions and 85 fighters simultaneously?" I decided to ask again.
"84."
"What?"
"84 units of air equipment, including helicopters."
"How does it feel to lose a plane?" I tried to develop this topic.
"Distribute 85 air units and the carrier across your body, and tear them off when something is destroyed," Aviana answered rather thoroughly.
Now I felt symp...
"Don't," Aviana cut off my thoughts.
"Be..."
"Don't," she interrupted me.
"But I w..."
"No."
"To..."
"No."
"It..."
"No."
(But why, I just want to a...)
"No."
(I can't even think about it?)
"Yes."
"Can you read minds?"
"No."
(Sor...)
"Don't."
(How does she do that? I'm literally thinking about apolog...)
"No need."
Fine! Okay! I won't apologize. I just...
I looked at her.
If you imagine 85 planes and helicopters on yourself, and the carrier — how painful is that? The carrier would be the head and torso. And all 85 air units — arms and legs, 21 on each limb. So she had a finger torn off... That's painful and terrifying. Because equipment doesn't regenerate. I don't want to use them at all now — it makes me tense, because because of me, Lelik almost lost his Black Hawk, and he only has 24 helicopters.
So here's the terrible truth... The most "immortal" is the IB Officer. He has 700 soldiers that replenish weekly, plus equipment on top. All other officers could die because of my stupidity. But what to do. We're heading to a place full of predators whose only desire is to kill someone. But why is everything like this... Why didn't God make them separate from their equipment? Why all this? Is it intentional?! So I'd value what I received and not become a villain? But if I wanted to be a villain, I would've unleashed them as soon as I had the chance. I don't understand... I want to meet Him.
But I'm sure even if I meet Him, I won't remember a word, let alone speak. He's God! A real god who can gift anyone a superpower worth 62 billion at will.
And here's a question... What happens if you kill an officer in human form? And I decided to ask Aviana this question.
"An officer is mortal. But in a different sense. If he's killed, but still has transport under his command — he simply returns to the 'pocket' for recovery. Officers are significantly stronger than any ordinary person," Aviana answered quite thoroughly, but just as coldly.
I felt much better. A weight off my shoulders. So my plan for this territory is: I'll only use officers and all of IB. But wait — does it hurt them?
"Is it painful for you to die?"
"I don't know. None of us have died yet. Find out," she held out the SIG Sauer M18 to me, grip first, without even looking away from the window, sitting half-turned toward me.
What?... I looked at her in fright.
"No!" I gave the pistol back to her.
"Fine," she took the pistol. Click — and it was at her temple. — (Me: Stop!)
Shot.
The deafening shot instantly made me grab my ears, everything spun before my eyes, the strong smell of gunpowder hit my nose, and on the floor lay dead Aviana with a bullet through her head.
I threw up. I vomited next to the corpse. I barely held myself back from doing the same thing to myself. What if she really died. What if she was wrong and they really die forever? Why isn't she disappearing! Why is blood flowing from her and she smells of death?
"STOP!" I shouted, pounding on the armored transport door, trying to get out into the air.
Paladin opened the door, and I quickly ran out, falling in front of the Abrams' tracks that were roaring incredibly loudly!
"Turn everything off!" I shouted through tears, occasionally glancing back at the transport where dead Aviana still lay, blood slowly seeping out.
Everyone turned off their engines, helicopters landed on the clearing on both sides of the convoy, and fighters made a loop, returning somewhere.
"Turn EVERYTHING off!" I shouted, trying to get rid of the Abrams' headlights, the red lights on the Apaches, and... the light in the armored transport.
"Boss!" Paladin came up to me.
"Not a word," I grabbed onto the tracks and crawled under the Abrams, trying to hide from all of this.
I hoped that if I just hid, it would all go away. It didn't. Only the night, and this was a fever dream from the hospital in my past life. I'd rather have cancer than see someone commit suicide because of me, right in front of my face, half an arm's length away.
[Do you really want that?]
Click.
I found myself in my apartment, lying on my bed. Hairless, with terrible pain in my throat. It was hard to breathe. I stared at my familiar ceiling and couldn't believe this was real. But all my thoughts were interrupted by the cancer that was pulling the blanket over itself. This was my last day in my world, in my skin. On this day, at this minute, I died. I'm suffocating. My throat is filled with an enormous amount of glass that's just cutting into my insides. I forgot about everything and cried, clutching my throat. My head was swimming, my brain was falling apart, ceasing to function, just forcing me to stare at the ceiling with a pain in my throat that's incomparable... It can't be compared to anything — it's cancer...
And I died. I woke up in the middle of the night with that unbearable pain, and cancer won, killing me in just a few minutes.
—
(Hello.)
(Hello... Again...)
(Do you really want to choose cancer over the death of officers?)
(Yes... I... I'm not ready to lose them...)
(Okay...)
(Will you bring me back to my life?)
(No.)
(Then what?)
(Why are you like this?)
(Maybe because I've already lost myself?)
(Most likely. By the way. I can create an unliftable stone, and I can create a person who will lift that stone.)
(Sorry...)
(For what. That question made me think. Thank you. But let's get back to you.)
(Am I dead? Permanently?)
(You are dead, absolutely. In your past life. Right now, you're lying under a tank. I meant something else.)
(What?)
(You asked a couple of questions about the officers. And no, it wasn't my plan. You yourself endowed them with those abilities. If you wanted, they could have been faceless; if you wanted, they could have been immortal; if you wanted, they could have destroyed the whole world without equipment. You decided that yourself.)
(What?)
(That's exactly it. And I placed the satellites because what's technology without navigation?! But now another question. Tell me... Do you want to die or continue living? Think. I'll give you time to think. Click.)
Think... What is there to think about. Go back to where Aviana died because of me?! No. I've decided. Death. I've already died twice. Better that than living with the weight of guilt my whole life. I don't want other officers to die because of my mistakes.
(To die.)
(Good... You're strong. You're ready to part with your life and give up a second chance at living, just because of officers who obey you. Is that weakness? You didn't ask... But this is the sign of a strong person. A person who is strong in will — not in soul or body — in Will.)
(It doesn't matter. Aviana died anyway. I'm guilty. Whether strong or weak in will.)
(Right. She's dead. She was wrong. We all make mistakes. But the question is different: do you want to go back to that world before her death?)
(No! Because they'll die because of me anyway!)
(And what if it all goes according to Aviana's theory?)
(No. They'd be in pain anyway. What's the point of me causing pain to those who live and look alive, even if they obey me? I'd rather send them on their own voyage than send them to certain death against anyone — even a tree.)
(I see... Let's do this... I can give you anything extra, but the officers' feelings are your choice, and if you ever want to, you can rewrite it — they won't feel pain, they won't be so different, and whatever else. It's all your decision.)
(And what's your benefit? Why all these conversations?)
(There's no benefit. I'm God. I only observe here. I don't need anything from you. But the choice is always yours.)
(Can you make the officers immortal?)
(No. I repeat. It's your choice that they became this way.)
(Can you make it so they really go to the 'pocket' for recovery?)
(That's your own decision. You subconsciously decided that Aviana died. If you want it differently — it will be so.)
(But what's the point of you? Why watch someone who killed Aviana, who avoids all conflicts?)
(Right now, it's not about me. It's your choice. What do you want? I'm giving you absolutely anything right now.)
(Will you take me back to before Aviana's death?)
(Of course. And, considering your emotions and thoughts, she'll go to the pocket for recovery.)
(Let them go.)
(No.)
(Restore Aviana's F-35C. And make a paradise corner in the "pocket.")
(Is that all?)
(Can I have more?)
(Yes.)
(Give us... What's it called...)
(Boeing E-4B Nightwatch.)
(Yes. So we can get to our new home safely.)
(Good. Is that all?)
(Yes.)