Point Zero (_.7)

Point Zero (_.7)

…

Commissioned by Ichypa and Althero

Wordcount: 2000

…

“Huh, I thought you’d be the type to appreciate the ballet, Commander.”

I am uncultured. Therefore, it is impossible for me to understand the story and them of a work several centuries old. However, I was able to appreciate the effort and skill of the dancers. 

“…Is that innuendo about ya fancying the looks of the ballerinas? Because if you are, then I must applaud you for your tastes, dear sir. As long as you don’t happen to have a foot fetish, they’re at the tippy top of classy women.”

It was not innuendo. My words are all bereft of innuendo. Why? Because I am not confident in my skill with words to carry such things out properly. Even puns are beyond my reach. Attempting innuendo is beyond my ability. My words regarding the ballet was entirely towards respecting their talent regarding their control over their bodies, though their forms are admittedly aesthetically pleasing.

“…Nope. None at all. I cannot weigh nor measure your countenance no matter how much bloody true. You are a brick wall of emotion.” O’Hara huffed and crossed her arms. She wore a three-piece, formal tuxedo fitted for her svelte form and wore her hair up with raven hairpin holding it fast. She cut a dashing figure, while I remained steadfastly in my uniform as the Commander of one of Point Zero’s security forces, as appointed by the United Nations. It would not do for me to accept such a gift, even if Yefimova had offered it to me lacking any overt intentions whatsoever. “As far as I know, you’re only happy when you’re munching down the rump of a cow.”

“What kind of cow? Wagyu? Angus? What of the cooking method? Roasted or on a spit? What are the spices involved and was it marinated or basted? Perhaps both?” While I cannot acquire an asset of any sort for my efforts, access to a military-grade food fabricator was something I could have, especially if it’s a UN certified and supplied machine. The first five and the last seven courses were already decided, the first main dish was still something to be considered. It would be the sizzle to the deluge of steaks that will be flowed by cheeses, desserts, cheeses, more desserts, and then coffee with an almond croissant. An entire rump of a cow would be both filling and an amazing experience, if properly cooked. “Maybe, instead of being fabricated cooked, I should have a chef cook the rump for me on an open fire? I have read in several of my subscriptions that food fabricators can create very, very good wood and charcoal.”

“The most glorious rendition of swan lake to ever be made, with a whole nation’s coffers funding it, and food is the only thing on your mind… I can’t believe that I like the man who’s impressed me into service more than anyone else I’ve ever worked for, yet here I am.” The assumption that I was a man was incorrect. My gender is female. It is, however, true that my figure is bereft of curves and sharp, therefore even with my hair, I have a very masculine form. It is the price of rapidly changing my body for ease of combat, which I plan to rectify when I master my body completely. “If I fancied lads, then I’d try to get into your pants, but as I implied, I’m far, far more interested in acquiring one of the Soviet Union’s finest imports instead. Look at them. They’re lovely.”

“If you touch any of them, their handlers are authorized to arrest you and send you to Russia for trial.”

Yefimova was no longer fully clad in her costume. The holographic projectors and feathers upon her person were removed, leaving only her leotard with her ballet shoes over her shoulder. Her natural legs were clad in black tights and she walked primly upon them, despite her long period of dancing. Her brow was raised upward as she spoke to O’Hara.

“And, my libido has been sent to the gulag. Good evening, Yefimova. Allow me to say that I have no intentions whatsoever to speak to the tall, leggy blonde giving me dreamy eyes for the past five minutes.”

“She attracts attention in order to protect the younger ones. You would’ve been crushed first by her and then by her bodyguard.”

“Leggy, maternal, and fiesty That just makes cooling off more difficult, my Russian friend.”

Personally, I admitted, I felt that the trailing, falling feathers in her wake as she danced had been a nice touch, but it was her performance that seemed the most polished amongst her peers, so congratulations are in order.

“I see a single ballet hasn’t managed to give you any tact, but I appreciate your compliment nonetheless, Commander Elliot.” Yefimova turned to me with a raised eye, but I offered her my hand to shake nonetheless. Her lips quirked upward as she accepted my handshake. She exerted more pressure than the norm, but I easily ignored it. The norm is weak. A marginal improvement on the norm is weak, as well. For me. “So, have you reconsidered my offer of support for your branch in Point Zero? Do you dare doing something besides bark as commanded by your masters in the United Nations?”

I do not. The United Nations is my employer and my loyalty to them is assured. They are the strong, combined polity that humanity needs to have in charge of Point Zero. Russia would do well to make their place on the Security Council have more active and beneficial to the UN, if they wish to enter Point Zero. Their military has served only their nation thus far. It would be to everyone’s benefit, if they fought for others as well.”

“Hmph, if only it were so easy to ignore politics and unify, then you would I would get along.” Yefimova shook her head, a smile forming on her lips, but her head snapped sharply upward as the door to the changing room opened. Several men in suits, all armed, entered and began to evacuate the room. Another approached Yefimova, one with a spare weapon, which they put into her hands. “What has happened?”

I didn’t need to be told, as my Personal Communication Device activated and reported the situation to me.

The UN Amphitheatre has been surrounded by “unknown” military forces.

Another human polity upon Earth has decided to stake their claim upon Point Zero. 

…

The Amphitheatre’s underground was a system of tunnels whose schematics was only known to a select few. Those who managed and maintained it were primarily robotic in nature and custom-crafted for the structure itself, therefore not even those who maintained it could offer aid in its navigation. The few who could navigate its depths, the intricate systems involved in humanity’s chosen stage to showcase its culture to the galaxy, could be counted on one hand. 

For now, I was one of those individuals, so I could command and guide the attendants of the ballet through its depths. Naturally, I will have to have my memory of the affair wiped at a later date, but it is a preferable alternative to not being able to give Point Zero’s guests of honor a means to get to safety. A few snippets of memory are a small price to pay in order to ensure civilian casualties remain at zero.

And, it allows me to focus on my opponents and other aspects of battle.

“The delivery drone was shot to hell, but our supplies are here.” O’Hara arrives already clad in her infiltration gear, as well as all the gadgets I could requisition for her on a short notice. Her illegal creation of military-grade active camouflage was going to be very helpful for scouting the enemy. Combining that with her bevy of new equipment, as well as her technical skills, will allow her to harass the enemy with the aid of the guards who chose to stay. “Whoever’s decided to attack is repelling all the Assault Drones being sent their way, too. The blokes are giving it their best shot, but they can’t do much against lads with actual military gear.”

“The Drones under Verdict’s command is focused on civilian peacekeeping roles. They’re well-suited for those who succumb to their infection, or are using improvised weaponry, but they’re not meant for combat against soldiers.” Yefimova took command of the box of supplies and swiftly donned an armored vest over her uniform, as well as other pieces of equipment. She very quickly transformed from a ballet’s star into a fully-armed peacekeeper, albeit with a tad more glitter than most. “The best we can hope for is that they’ll take some heavy assets away from us, due to sheer weight of numbers and their relative toughness, our enemy will have to use equipment against them that we’d rather not face.”

“Any big gun not pointed at me is grand in my books, but whoever’s out there brought more than just a few guns. They have some tech I’d only seen in shitty forums and gossiped about in alleys.” O’Hara crossed her arms over her armored chest, as to make sure she had my full attention. Though most of my thoughts were focused on navigating the intricate labyrinth beneath the Amphitheatre through my extensions, I faced my actual body in her direction. It tended to work and most individuals don’t notice the difference. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about the Pacific Union working on Infected Supersoldiers, have you? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what they want to show off with this little stunt.”

The UN has little information regarding the Pacific Union’s supersoldier programs, especially ones that violate human dignity and rights through the usage of outlawed, alien technologies and purposeful destruction of the personality. Studies regarding them are currently in place, but with the UN’s focus on combating the Hunter Killers and the Infected Swarms, there’s been little focus on espionage and investigation into unallied-countries.

“Well, that’s not helpful.”

“What Commander Elliot means to say is that you should ask me, since Russia happens to share a border with the Pacific Union. We’ve spent far more time, money, and manpower researching them the rest of the United Nations.” Yefimova volunteered to explain further, so that I could finally have the last of the civlians exit the Amphitheatre into the awaiting transports. The entire audience, as well as the staff involved in the performance, were now effectively safe and secure before the Amphitheatre’s doors were breached. “Yes. Most of the information you’ve gained is true. The Pacific Union now has a cadre of automated killing machines composed from Infected flesh contained within powered armor which is controlled by illegal technologies smuggled into Earth.”

“Right, so I’m glad that I’m correct, but what does that mean for us?”

“It means that vanguard of our attackers will be Class III Infected lifeforms with ablative power armor. At the beginning of the fight, they’ll wield military-grade heavy weapons, then once their armor is destroyed, they’ll rampage as infected lifeforms of strength and caliber that typically requires tanks to bring down.”

“Oh, so we’re in for a horrible time that might result in us getting killed.”

“You would be correct… if not for your Commander’s presence.”

The supply box was seemingly empty, but that was merely to passing glance. The false bottom gave way and I was able to access the supplies meant for me. 

Three syringes in protective, white shells with red caps.

“Oi, are you about to tell me that you’re not even close to fifty-percent after all the bullshit you’ve pulled?” O’Hara’s apprehension was understandable. I had displayed quite a few powers and abilities already. However, she was incorrect in regards to the fact that my level of Infection was at a low level. In fact, it was already at thirty percent at this moment. “Then, what’s up with those!? You take those three and you’ll turn into a monster—”

I was about to clarify the situation, but Yefimova did so in my stead.

“No, O’Hara, you misunderstand. Your Commander must be incredibly resistant to the Infection, but requires more power. The question you ought to be asking is how much those three syringes of Infection will give him… and how much power he’ll receive in exchange.”

O’Hara’s jaw snapped shut and her black gaze turned to me.

The answer was rather simple to supply.

The three netted a single percent’s increase in exchange for a doubling in power.