As was so common these days, the morning started with the roof shaking.
It was a small thing comparatively speaking, not enough to seriously damage the structure they were living in. It wasn’t like the old days either where even something as minor as this could cause a cave in. Since then the walls and roof had been reinforced with steel, even if if one of the tunnels collapsed enough food had been stockpiled for several days until help would get them out. They were no longer on starvation rations, as at this point they were getting supplies from on world and off.
At this point all they got were specks of dust however, enough to make some people shift uncomfortably in their beds. Paurol Defort blinked her bright green eyes and brushed back her hair, sitting up with a start. The panic lasted only for a moment though as she took in her surroundings. A few others were getting up, but many of them hadn’t even gotten out of bed. After a moment she slipped down and went to her footlocker, reaching for her black uniform at the bottom next to a small collection of personal items.
The container didn’t even have a lock on it, but the leader of this particular cell had been decisive in action, anyone caught trying to take advantage of other members of the unit for any reason were to be ‘dealt with’ by the Vanguard Parties elite. The common fiction with groups like this was that if you stepped out of line you would simply disappear, or alternatively that a gruesome example would be made of you. She found that neither was true, not entirely. People were publicly imprisoned, and in some cases shot, but with few words and little ceremony. When their leaders were pressed on why the executions took place they were sometimes met with fiery zeal if the crimes were great, but often with a certain somber tone. As though, treacherous or not, the fallen comrade would be sorely missed.
The command center had come a long way from where it used to be. Once upon a time it was a small room with a few wooden beams. No metal reinforcement, few weapons, and certainly no computers. When you were down here you were blind to the world outside, now agents and cameras provided a window into the outside world. People sat at radio transmitters and coordinated with units on the outside with far more accuracy then back then. Of course the most prominent part was the black and red banner that hung in the center of the room.
The symbol of Intriguerre.
Every planet, if not every cell, had it’s own little styalization added to it of course. They were not a single unified group with one ideology, just a shared goal against the Empire. The Gallente influence manifested in the form of a half black and half green eagle at the triangles heart, showing both their point of origin as well as subtly hinting their association to Clade Veles which had by and large provided most of their support. There were a few Jin-Mei here and there but by and large most of the people in the room were ethnic Gallente or occasionally Intaki. Fewer in number, they nevertheless came because the Kybernaut funding their organization was apparently an Intaki themselves. Once there they had a tendency to establish themselves higher up the food chain as Diplomats and political officers, it had bred some level of resentment and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat suspicious of their motives herself.
It helped that times weren’t as hard as they used to be anymore. Tensions were always higher when people who were otherwise living comfortable life transferred to barely being able to eat every couple days, now that the surrounding region had been secured they were closer to standard. Among the homeless who flocked to the cause in droves they were, in many ways, living better then how they had before.
Her gaze turned to Antorcus Kaapson. He wasn’t homeless, he wasn’t a combatant either, far too old for that. He was pushing his seventies and weighing one hundred and ten pounds, making the already short man look like little more then a small sack of bones. He had no uniform to speak of, and instead simply wore a basic tanned robe that complimented his long greying white hair. His face was wrinkled and scarred, though she didn’t know from what. While he had no rank to speak of, he rose in esteem among the other members of the Triglavian Revolution for his almost grandfather like attitude and soft but articulate words. For all intents and purposes Kaapson was an ‘honorary officer’, with most of his work revolving around him helping to organize propaganda and keep an ear to the ground.
He caught sight of her almost as soon as she approached him. “Almost used to it at this point.” he said, gesturing to the roof, dust still falling down on them. She smiled and shook her head, arms folding over her chest. “I don’t think I ever will, honestly. Any word from the surface? status of the nearby towns?” for a moment Kaapson looked distant, as if he hadn’t quite understood her question before he replied. “Nothing much, the last bits of resistance fell apart yesterday. The moment they heard a Leshak was anywhere near here they immediately dispersed. I heard one group turned their uniforms inside out and tried to sneak past a checkpoint, they were of course captured immediately.”
“Are they dead?”
There was a pause at that, and for a moment a silence hung in the room. After a few seconds she breathed in, recomposing herself and continued. “Any word from up the chain?” at that, he shook his head and turned to face her fully. “Only enough to tell us to wait another day. But we’ve been fighting for so long that I don’t think the revolution will die from one day more. That said, you should go above and tell the others they’ll be waiting a little longer.” he was moving past her even as he said this, as he often tended to do. Old age apparently hadn’t taught him any manners, or perhaps he just wasn’t all there at times like these, it was genuinely hard to tell.
Paurol Deforts hand tightened around a rifle in her hand. She was always a little anxious leaving the safety here, but she had a job to do. Doubtlessly a few others were already gathering to head up above by this point, she figured the old man was right and they could use an extra set of hands.
Back to the battlefield.