RTS System in the Apocalypse: New World

Brandon didn’t know what to say.

The MDC having problems was one thing. Hearing Federick describe the two other authorities as people who simply pushed their problems onto the military made the situation sound much worse.

Then again, Brandon had only been inside Silverpeak for less than a day.

He had already seen how thin the MDC was stretched. Their soldiers guarded roads, escorted civilians, maintained barricades, recovered supplies and somehow still had to respond whenever the Hive decided to throw another horde at them.

Perhaps it was less about being pushed around and more about being the only armed organization left that everyone could still call whenever something went wrong.

Regardless of their intentions, Brandon decided to watch the show first.

Federick stepped toward the approaching groups.

”May I know what brought both of you here to the yard?”

”Step aside, Major. You’re not our business today.”

The answer came from the woman walking with the industrial group.

She looked to be somewhere in her forties, perhaps older. Her dark hair had been tied behind her head with little care for appearance, and the protective coat over her clothes looked like something taken directly from an industrial floor rather than an office.

Several faded stains remained around the lower sleeves.

She carried no weapon, though what she did carry was a rolled bundle of plans tucked under one arm, while the people behind her held document cases, notebooks and several more sheets protected inside plastic covers.

Federick planted himself in front of her.

”The Golden Eagle Army is closed for business today, I’m afraid. As you can see, they’re just setting up their shop.”

The woman looked past him. Brandon was standing several meters away, clearly watching the exchange.

”You call that closed for business today?”

She pointed toward him and stepped around Federick. Federick realized a little too late what she was doing and moved again to block her.

”Please. These people are the MDC’s guests. No need to push them over this early while they’re just setting up now, do you?”

The woman stopped, and irritation crossed her face. It did not look like the kind that came from being told no once.

Brandon had seen the same expression from people who had spent far too long waiting for the same problem to be solved.

”Hmph. You MDC soldiers have been underperforming for months. Your slogans revolve around working for the people, but have you ever worked for them even once?”

Federick’s expression darkened. The woman did not care.

”If we’re not going to save the industry that made this city alive, then when? Until the heart of the city finally stops beating?”

She had probably said some version of that before. Maybe not to Federick specifically, but definitely to someone wearing the same uniform.

Her group did not look like people who came to complain about a single workshop either.

One man behind her had grease permanently settled along the edges of his fingernails. Another carried himself like someone used to spending long hours inside protective equipment. The woman beside them kept glancing toward the deployed PCV and the Engineers working around it as if she were trying to understand every machine at once.

To them, the Golden Eagle army probably looked less like another military force and more like an opportunity that had suddenly driven into their city.

Before the woman could move again, she noticed that her rival had already gone around the argument entirely.

The older man from the municipal group had taken the longer route past them.

Unlike the industrial representatives, he looked like someone who had once spent most of his time behind a desk.

His coat was old but still carefully buttoned. Gray hair covered most of his head, although it had become thin around the top, and a pair of reading glasses hung from his neck by a narrow cord.

He carried a thick folder against his chest.

The younger official from earlier followed behind him, already looking somewhat embarrassed by how quickly his superior had abandoned any attempt to wait for Federick.

”Commander... Brandon.”

The older man stopped in front of him. It looked like he had forgotten how he intended to start for a brief second.

Then he bowed slightly.

”I am with the Municipal Emergency Authority. Former civil servant—Fredrinn Lockheart. Pleased to finally mee—talk with you.”

Brandon caught the mistake but didn’t comment on it.

”Commander Joseph Brandon. Southern Command, Golden Eagle Army.”

Fredrinn’s eyes moved briefly toward the Guardians behind him, then toward the PCV, and finally back to Brandon.

That curiosity was different from the industrial woman’s.

She looked at the army’s machines like tools.

The older man looked at them like vehicles that could carry people out of places the MDC could no longer safely reach.

Brandon could already guess what each side wanted. He just didn’t know yet how much they were going to ask for.

And regardless of the cost, the Golden Eagle Army had far more resources to spare.

”So what can I do for you, Mr. Fredrinn?”

”Commander, it’s presumptuous for us to approach you this early and ask this of you.”

”Go ahead.”

He opened the folder.

”I’ll try not to waste your time. We still have people trapped outside the areas the MDC can safely reach. Some are families. Some are elderly. A few buildings have been sending signals whenever they can, but the MDC can’t keep sending vehicles after every report.”

His voice lowered slightly.

”I saw what your people did last night.”

Fredrinn looked toward the Guardians parked around the yard.

”I’m not asking you to save everyone in Silverpeak today. I know that’s impossible.”

He handed Brandon the first sheet.

”But if your people are willing to look at these areas... even one or two of them would mean something. Those people are still out there, Commander. I can’t pretend otherwise just because the MDC has run out of ways to reach them.”

The woman from the Industrial Continuity Directorate waited until Fredrinn lowered his folder.

Fredrinn raised his head and frowned at her.

”Minerva, your machines can wait. Can’t you see I’m still conducting business here with Commander Brandon?”

”Oh really? I thought you were complaining that your houses are a little shabby. If those workers are rescued from deeper inside the city, perhaps we can do a little renovation so everyone can stop complaining about bad accommodation.”

Fredrinn shook his head.

”Comfort is a necessity, but rescuing civilians is more important than that.”

Minerva ignored him and extended her hand toward Brandon. ”Commander. Minerva Sparks. Industrial Continuity Directorate. I oversee recovery priorities for the western industrial sectors, something that the MDC has been ignoring for months.”

”We are not ignoring your requests. Can’t you see that the MDC is strained enough?”

Federick tried to argue.

”The crowd is getting rowdy around here.” Brandon looked between the two and the exhausted Federick.

”Shall we talk further inside?”