AGG: Human Side Stories: Santiago 1

Upon Dust (Part 1)

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Commissioned by quiteadapperlass

Word Count: 2026

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Consider the following, age-old question: how can one find someone who doesn’t wish to be found?

It is a question that boggles the mind for a good reason.

Humans, at their core, are very capable individuals. Each one is composed of different choices, learnings, leanings, and methods. Even those disinclined towards the systems of education, can have moments of grand insight, which will leave geniuses befuddled. Now, add that to a chassis capable of sustained exercise, with stamina that outstrips that of any other animal in the world, and very capable locomotion skills, you find yourself looking upon problem that kings of ages past would be very hard-pressed to solve.

Now, in this day and age of magic and technology beyond imagination, that problems multiplies tenfold in intensity. 

I search for clues for an individual who is beyond the cameras and records of the Cradle in the stars. Upon earth, where nearly all look upon me with distrust and disdain, due to my clean clothes and features, I must converse to find leads regarding a shadow that they might only have glimpsed. Regardless of my wonderful companies, the twin wolves which guard my soul, I can only walk, ponder, and peruse the latest of towns that might conceal the strange, nearly-ephemeral Strategist. 

In truth, without my companions, I would already have admitted my failure. A good soldier, after all, does not waste the time of his superiors. He admits his mistakes, argues in favor of more experienced individuals to replace him on his mission, and bears the failure upon his chest without shame. If I were not accompanied in my mission, with only my soul-bound friends at my side, I would already be back at HQ, awaiting other orders, regardless of my request to stay out of danger’s way.

Thankfully, I was not alone.

“Santiago, have you finished searching your area?” The voice in my ears is as cool and sharp as a dagger. My commander for this mission, though seemingly only a budding young woman, is the product of a Fallen Angel and a priestess. Her name is Akeno Himejima, and she instills a deep fear in me, one born of self-doubt and self-apprehension. She is temptation personified, in both mind and body. “Or, perhaps, you’d like some… assistance?”

I thanked her for her offer. My voice, when speaking to her, seemed to be a more jovial echo than I intended it to be. My mind and heart warred within me at the thought of the Nephilim. My mind was that of an ardent soldier, yet my heart returned to youth’s delirium. I prided myself in control, over mastering my own self, yet cheer that I did not wish to be present appeared in my voice when I spoke with her. While I’d completed my search; if had not, I would not have wished for her aid.

Even twenty years younger, I would have done the same.

Or, so I wished.

“I have completed my search, as well.” Ah, my other companion, at least, was straight and true with her intentions. Angela Ioseva, the Reincarnation of St. Michael the Archangel, himself. Despite her uncanny ability to navigate the realms of smugglers and thieves, she proved to be every bit as just and capable as an Archangel ought to be, if a bit more gluttonous than I initially predicted. “I have found another card from our subject.”

A groan nearly left my lips at the mention of the card, but I refused to have it aloud. I contented myself with a soft shake of my head. Appearances had to be kept. I was the eldest of our group, even if I held the least power and ability. I could not complain like a child. There are obligations that must be met, even if they are stereotypes, because they are good for others. 

“Let’s regroup, then. Keep the card on your person, Ioseva-chan.” Miss. Himejima’s voice carried little of the temptation it typically carried when considering the Strategist. Hearing of the fantastic progress of our fellows, while barely making the very minimum of our own goals, was a terrible thing. Or, perhaps, that was only the case for myself and Himejima. Competition drove me forward. I am inclined to do better than others. However, she wished to prove herself capable against others for someone else. Personally, I believed her mission to be suicide, but that was true of all our missions to normal eyes. “Safehouse and we move out in five minutes to wherever this woman is leading us next.”

I gave my affirmative, listening to Miss Angela’s, before being left in silence.

Though, there were still gazes on me. 

There remained a few communities upon Earth. 

Some were criminals, who could no longer hide from the nigh omnipresent gaze of the governments and their drones, and weren’t allowed onto the Cradle. They lived and thrived upon the surface of the Earth, growing in power as the militaries that held them in check are being marshalled, reequipped, and retrained in the Cradle. They were scum, who valued themselves, even when a life without working meant never going hungry, nor wanting for food or shelter.

Then, there were those who choose not to come.

They were no more than five million in number in the last census before the Ascendancy. Compositions of individuals who strove out of the Arcologies, who decided that their ideologies were not permitted in the new society that was. They had a myriad of reasons which could be considered righteous. The loss of privacy. The regulation of nearly all products. The engulfment of society into a life of dreams, with reality being considered an unpleasant happenstance, which I abhorred myself. 

However, I did not abhor it enough to force children to live in squalor, need, and danger.

Driving them to hold guns at a man who didn’t seem well armed.

I told the four children, armed with crude weapons made from scrap, to lower their weapons. My communicator translated my words into the region’s official language. However, I saw in their gazes, that they did not understand. No. They were from elsewhere. Possibly from a town long dead, driven to becoming vultures, because they had no other choice. Those who chose their lives for them are gone, yet they remain upon the world, looking at the stars that have been barred from their way.

When I see fingers begin to depress.

I tell my companions to roar.

It is an earthshaking roar from twin mays capable of piercing godflesh. The noise so strong it blasts apart the stones on the cobble road and throws the children back. However, it leaves me unimpaired, and capable of walking away unimpeded. I considered taking their weapons, to try and relieve them of their ability to fight, but that would be the same as killing them. 

The only lesson I could offer them…

…the only aid I could render…

…was to teach them to try themselves against a man who walks without fear. 

The Cradle is mighty, but not mighty enough to withstand the hunger that I saw in their hearts.

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Another card, another clue, and another town.

Yet, I was beginning to see a pattern to the Tactician’s methods, while my companions were simply searching for one clue after another. Perhaps, Miss Himejima did not see it, because she was focused on accomplishing her mission. Meanwhile, Miss Ioseva came from a place similar to the ones we’ve visited. Both of them had reasons to ignore, or oversee, each location we arrived at. 

However, I could not voice my thoughts without evidence.

So, though I was told to search a third of the village we arrived at, to look for signs of the same magic we’d been searching for in each tow, I knocked upon one of the doors of the town’s inhabitants. 

The door opened, revealing only darkness, but a voice greeted me, instead of silence.

“What do you want, traveler?” It was a voice expected of the region. A native of the land. I had many questions for the speaker. However, most of them were personal, so I pushed them back. We remained on a mission, with a goal ahead of us that would see a conglomeration of gods contacted, and I could allow my prejudices to show. I kept control of myself, as I would my companions. “Why are you here?”

I asked what became of their relief supplies.

While most of humanity upon earth now are either criminals or those who chose to stay, rebuffing the rest of civilization, the same cannot be said for the rest of us. There are many who choose to work, eschewing a simple, but sustainable life, in order to send relief to the peoples left behind. Before considering the relief efforts put in place by the UN, which sends both rations and durable equipment to those left behind, immense amounts of preserved foodstuffs are sent downward as well. 

Yet, every place we’ve visited holds starving, emaciated souls, despite the fact they’re surrounded by sturdy construction, and have tools that can facilitate the creation of firearms. 

What has become of their food, the majority of the tonnage of relief sent to them all?

I receive no answer from the darkness.

And, the door closes.

However, it does not close fully, as a slim piece of paper is lodged in seam.

I feign knocking several times to silence, but slip the paper into my sleeve before I leave in feigned disgust.

It reads with a single, English word.

Seized.

Not stolen.

Nor taken.

Seized.

Such a phrase was reserved for those with overwhelming force, who takes by citing it as their right, or for their remuneration. No law was broken, nor was it gained without notice. Seizure means more than just a few scum armed with guns, but an organized force, an institution with both policies and power.

Undoubtedly, the Tactician is sending a message through to us to Li Song, which I could barely grasp with my own mind. Had he tread this path himself. Should he have put his mind upon this problem we now had in our hands, and stood amongst these people as himself, the Tactician would’ve appeared before him without a shred of hesitation. 

But, us?

An unknown orphan, a soldier, and a woman nearly blinded with her final goal?

I was fortunate to gain the insight I held in my hand now.

That, someway and somehow, there remained a nation upon this earth that was hidden from the billions upon the Cradle. And, they intended to stockpile food and equipment, plenty for hundreds of thousands, all for themselves. I could only pray that that is their only sin, that it is a sin due to having a million-or-so citizens that they needed to protect, and that the Tactician merely wished for them to reveal themselves, so that they might receive proper aid… and that they weren’t preventing a war between humans in this age where we must stand together. 

I considered telling both Ioseva and Himejima of my findings, but I considered my two allies carefully. 

Neither had the power, intellect, and talents that the message I’d gleaned was meant for. While Mr. Song was of similar age, he was no child. Raised in the wasteland, meant to carry the whole of his nation upon his back, and, now, protecting the whole of the Cradle, he has been forced to become a man, and he holds himself well in his immense responsibilities. 

Both of my fellows now would crumble and fall beneath this weight.

They will endeavor to do something about my findings, and perhaps fail outright, turning the grim picture I’d imagined into a scene of Armageddon. 

No, I shall keep this knowledge to myself, until I see my companions grow in wisdom and merit, or until Mr. Song comes to our aid. 

The Concepts are needed by humanity, either as allies or extinguished threats, and I was sure he would come to our aid in a timely manner.

If not, then, the burden falls to us.

And, I shall soldier on.