The Opesian king hesitated a moment before emerging. None of the soldiers met his eyes, which unnerved him as he made his way down the carpet.
Looking past them, he could see they were in the middle of an airfield designed for the takeoff of jet fighters. The pavement below his robotic feet was devoid of any cracks, divots, or pits. King Hum saw a young soldier repairing part of it as he walked.
Military discipline, he thought.
Beyond the worker, on the edges of the airstrip, were enormous beige hangers. All but two had their bay doors closed. One was empty, but the other held an aircraft so large, it made the Union’s gunships look like hummingbirds. Surrounding the airfield was a simple wire fence and about three dozen antiaircraft turrets. The dual-barreled guns sat dormant, pointed up at the heavens while basking in the sun.
At the end of the carpet was a middle-aged man with dark skin and a gray-streaked mustache. His expression was flat and stoic, further aided by the aviator sunglasses he wore. King Hum met his eyes for the last stretch of his walk.
“Major Danib?” the young monarch asked.
“That’s correct,” the man with the sunglasses replied. He wore a few medals and pins on his uniform, the meanings of which Hum couldn’t divine.
“I am King Hum of the Holy Kingdom of Opes,” Hum said, extending his hand.
The major shook it. “Glad to have you, your grace. We don’t usually get visits from foreign officials, let alone royalty.”
“These aren’t usual times,” King Hum replied.
Major Danib turned away and beckoned Hum to follow him. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested.
“It’s quite an impressive facility you have here,” King Hum commented, gazing around at the warehouse as they strolled through the aisles. Most of the things on the shelves were alien to the Opesian. Some looked like weapons, others like pieces of bodyshells, and everything else looked like random chunks of metal, polymer, and wires. What stood out to him, however, was how clean the place was.
“We keep a tight ship around here,” Danib replied. He held his hands together behind his back while they walked, also admiring the facility.
“To be honest, I don’t even know what half of this equipment is,” Hum said.
“It’s reclaimed tech,” the major started. “We’ve been trying to get as much of the military’s pre-war gear as possible — or, at least, keep it out of the wrong hands. All of this once belonged to the United States government, and now it’s back where it belongs.”
“The United States?” Hum asked. He was familiar with the term, but couldn’t see its relevance.
“Our country, your grace,” Major Danib said. “Indivisible, once. And so it shall be again.”
“I thought you identified as the Battalion,” Hum said. “Not as the United States.”
“The full term is the ‘Battalion and First Defense of the United States of America’,” Danib replied. “But that doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well, does it?”
They took a few steps farther before Danib looked back the young monarch. He had removed his shades, so Hum could see him scan the linen wrappings that covered his false body.
“You look like you’ve seen combat before,” the major commented. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”
King Hum’s jaw tightened. “The Council happened, major,” he answered. “They did this to me. To my body.”
Danib lowered his gaze a little, his face somber. “My apologies, your grace,” he said. “I know what it’s like to have a bit of you taken away.”
The major gestured for them to stop and rolled up his left pant leg. Hum’s eyes lit up as he saw the mechanical frame connecting his shoe to the rest of his body.
“Also courtesy of the Council,” Danib said before rolling the cloth back over his prosthetic leg. “We were escorting a civilian caravan on the interstate when they hit us. Multiple fragmentation mortars and rockets. A meat grinder. I’m lucky to have kept as much flesh as I did. A lot of people were much less fortunate than I.”
“I’m sorry,” Hum said. He straightened his posture. “Why haven’t you gone after the Council, considering what they’ve done? Why not retaliate? You seem to have the hardware.” He gestured at the equipment around them.
“Because we would be decimated,” the major replied. “We may have the tools, but we don’t have the people, and we don’t have the resources to send the ones we do to war. Besides, our mission takes precedence: to rebuild America, your grace. Part of that means keeping the people out there — all of whom I consider citizens of the United States, by the way — out of a war they can’t win.”
“We can win, major,” King Hum said. “If we fight united, we can do it. You say you want to rebuild America. According to your own words, we are America. The Council won’t allow us to survive if we don’t put a stop to them.”
Major Danib turned away for a moment, feigning sudden interest in a thick plastic bauble in order to hide his expression of deep thought. He picked the item up and inspected it as if it was his job to do so.
“I don’t know, your grace,” he said, his back still turned to the bodyshell. “It’s not an easy matter, sending your people to war.”
“Believe me, I know,” King Hum replied.
Major Danib put the bauble down and turned back to face the Opesian. “I suppose you do,” he said. “Still, I’m just not ready to take the risk.”
Hum hung his head and
