The Command Center

"So a tale has begun.
A start of legends, and the end of a war.
An epic of loss, hardships, and the bonds that bind us.
As soldiers.
As warriors.
As humans.
A story of how the human race earned it's right to remain in existence.
Or perhaps this is more of a fable.
As with all fables, it must begin in tragedy.
And sacrifice."

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Day 1....

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Wind howls over the toothy grin of the surrounding mountain ridge, and rolls over man-made steel. A monolith of gleaming defiance stands resolute against the blizzard, and acts as warden to the land that lay beyond it's vigil. Within this sleeping giant lies many weapons of war, and a force of men one-hundred and fifty strong. Inside a compound at the far back, a single repetitive sound rings out. Echoing within a dark room, as a sluggish and scarred arm stretches out to silence this annoyance. Up rises a man, a soldier of countless battles. His tolls paid upon his skin, each old wound aching in the bitter cold. His bones throbbing from the storm outside.

"I'm getting too old for this crap."

"Your pre-morning wake-up call, Major. As you requested? Or are you becoming forgetful in your old age?"

Accompanying the feminine voice was the glowing body of a holographic construct, which formed into the space of the room and illuminated the darkness.

"Agh... No, but I am getting too old for your sass, Amanda. And tone down the brightness.... it's to damn early for that crap."

"I'll have my hologram installed with a dimmer switch ASAP, Sir."

The Major groaned as he slid out of bed, his leg sending sharp messages of pain to his mind. His groan deepened as he leaned forward, reaching for his one true love in life. His fingers traced it's delicate form, gliding upon it's surface. It's look, it's feel, even it's smell brought joy to him, as he brought it to his lips.

"You and your cigars. You should probably quit smoking those, they are still bad for you."

"Yeah? Well I'll quit when I die."

Biting off and disposing of the end, his finger ran over the emblem that wrapped it. A barely audible beep was heard, and the tip ignited. The cherry glowed intensely as he inhaled, slowly creeping up it's tobacco body. Exhaling a miniature mushroom cloud, the Major braced himself. His teeth bit down on the cigar as he pulled himself to his feet. He strained and limped over to his uniform, which was laid out neatly.

"What happened to the good old days, when getting dressed wasn't a chore? I miss those days."

He grumbled and bellyached as he pulled on his trousers, then stepping his foot into the holder of his mechanical caste. The machine beeped and came to life, sealing around his shin. Binding itself and adjusting to his form, the clamp finally released his newly reinforced leg. The Major proceeded to dress himself.

"So, what's new in the glorified toll booth today, Amanda?"

"Private Siegfield wished to speak to you, Major. If I may paraphrase, he said as soon as you were awake. I have him on standby, shall I patch him through?"

Finished with the task of buttoning up his medal-covered jacket, he nodded with a thick puff of white smoke. The room lit up as a large screen depicted a scrawny little man with wide, caffeine-charged eyes. He was busy typing away, and completely ignorant that he was in communications with the Major.

"Private..." the Major addressed the man, teeth loosely clenched around the cigar. The Private looked around the room in confusion, trying to spot the source of the voice. This was a little annoying, and the Major removed the cigar from his teeth to speak in a sterner voice.

"Private!"

The man turned three shades paler, before spinning in his chair to face the monitor.

"Uhh, Major Braxx, Sir! Sorry, Sir! Oh, and good morning, Sir! Or.... night. Or noon. I'm not exactly sure what time it is, Sir."

"Irrelevant, Private. You had something you wished to say to me?"

"Oh! Right! Um, I've lost contact with ATLAS, Sir. It's likely due to the weather, but I-I-I don't know if they know we're cut-off. We should arrange for short-ranged comm's channels, Sir."

"Good thinking, Private. And Siegfield.... how long have you been at post?"

"I.... have no fucking clue. Uhhh, Sir!"

"You got bags under your eyes bigger than warthog tires, son. Report to barracks and get some sleep. That's an order. Major, out."

The screen went blank, as Major Braxx took another long drag off of his cigar.

"Amanda, send up Peters in a warthog to ATLAS. See if they know how bad of a blizzard we're looking at, and rig up short-range comms. And till him to button up, it's colder than a witches tit out there. And twice as nasty."

"Right away, Sir. And an excellent choice in metaphors."

"Oh, and send out a scout to see if he c-" "Can give us eyes on the storm front? All ready taken care of, Sir. I had Ricks suit up and head out earlier."

"Excuse me?"

"Sir?"

Braxx closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. As the waft of white smoke left his mouth, he shot a rather stern look at the AI.

"Amanda, I realize you may be able to process things close to three-hundred times quicker than me, but remember that I am the commanding officer of this fort. And I like being kept in the loop, so no more going over my head."

"It's not as efficient, but as you wish, Sir. Is there anything else I can do for you, Major?"

"..... Yes. Have Captain Conway report to my office. He should be present to hear Riggs report so he can arrange the border patrols accordingly. Something tells me this is going to be a long, long day."