RTS System in the Apocalypse: New World

The meeting continued toward Horjus.

The southern mountain imagery disappeared from the main display, replaced by wider roads and the lower urban areas surrounding the city.

Recent strike marks were still visible across several eastern sectors. Burned-out intersections, collapsed buildings and the remains of larger infected concentrations dotted some of the images, although most of the newer photographs showed G.E.A. vehicles moving through the city rather than firing into it.

”Simon Bond reports that Horjus can now be considered liberated for current operational purposes.”

Hans raised an eyebrow slightly. Bond’s progress was quite fast.

Then again, Horjus was one of the smaller cities compared with Grefort and Silverpeak. It was still enormous by the standards Hans remembered from Earth, but after spending months operating around Grefort, his sense of scale had become somewhat distorted.

”The major infected concentrations in the east and south have been broken,” Dianne continued. ”Survivor areas in the north and west are connected to the main road network, and the remaining work is mostly local clearing, recovery and isolated contacts.”

Another set of images appeared.

One showed civilians gathered around several G.E.A. vehicles near what used to be a commercial area. Another showed Engineers clearing abandoned vehicles from a major road while infantry watched the surrounding buildings.

Farther east, smoke still rose from areas struck during the earlier bombardment. Liberated did not mean every building had been searched.

Hans had learned that much from Grefort.

There could still be infected hiding inside buildings, basements and underground sections for weeks after an area was supposedly cleared. All that mattered for now was that they could no longer gather enough strength to threaten control of the city itself.

”Bond’s Battalion will remain there while the local situation stabilizes. The five-way junction is also secure.”

The display changed again. This time, the main road north toward Grefort filled the screen.

G.E.A. vehicles traveled along one side while civilian trucks followed farther behind. Engineers were repairing one damaged section of pavement while traffic passed slowly through the remaining lane.

Several smaller settlements appeared farther along the route.

Some had barely changed since Brandon’s forces first passed through them. Others now had vehicles parked along the roadside, temporary stalls near intersections and people moving between buildings that had once looked almost abandoned.

”The southern corridor has improved,” Dianne said. ”Supply traffic between Grefort, the junction and the southern positions has returned to something close to normal conditions.”

The presence of checkpoints and armed patrols made the area safer. Engineers had also pushed wreckage away from the road or salvaged whatever was still useful.

Calling it normal was a stretch, but at least the roads were no longer as desolate as they had been months ago.

The amount was still tiny compared with the traffic that those roads handled before the Event.

”Trade has increased between the surrounding areas,” Dianne continued. ”Most of it is still small.”

”And the larger economic activity?”

”Mostly through the newly formed city council. Business permits and employment are both increasing.”

”You call those large?”

”By how much they affect Grefort, yes.”

She brought up another set of reports.

”Recovery teams are benefiting from the same roads. Usable machinery, structural material, spare parts and other recovered stock from cleared areas are being moved back into controlled depots instead of sitting where they were found.”

Hans skimmed through the figures. Some of the recovered material would probably end up being converted into Gold anyway.

For most of the Golden Eagle Army’s own needs, the System still preferred its own currency and rules. Production and many other requirements ultimately came back to Gold whether Hans liked it or not.

Fortunately, his treasury could handle most of what the army currently needed. Anything short of some ridiculous invasion from space, probably.

The rest of the recovered material had plenty of other uses.

Construction companies needed steel.

Workshops needed machinery.

Civilian vehicles needed parts that the System had absolutely no reason to care about.

Some of the material would go back into Grefort’s controlled stockpiles. Some would be distributed to reconstruction work, while some would probably find its way into civilian markets regardless of how many forms Dianne made people fill out.

Hans didn’t particularly mind.

A city could not recover if everything useful was swallowed by his army alone.

The civilian economy still had to function as well.

The display shifted north again, this time toward Saicine.

The harbor was more active than the last time Hans personally stayed there. G.E.A. ships moved beyond the secured waters while smaller vessels and support crews worked closer to shore.

The damaged extraction platform remained farther out.

Several sections of its lower structure were still exposed while Engineers and recovery personnel continued working around parts they could safely reach.

”Saicine’s maritime sweeps are continuing. No major change to the harbor threat,” Dianne reported. ”Engineers are still working through the damaged platform recovery.”

Hans looked over the latest photographs. The thing had taken so much damage that Hans had stopped expecting a quick repair days ago.

As long as the Engineers continued finding something useful from it, they could take their time.

Then the map extended northeast. The terrain gradually became rougher.

Cities and broad roads gave way to narrower routes running through forested uplands and increasingly higher terrain. Several reconnaissance paths stretched farther along the main corridor toward Pylow, while Raptor flight tracks crossed above them at different angles.

”They’re nearing Pylow.”

Hans studied the map.

”Any inconvenience along the way?”

”Aside from the recurring blizzards and snow?”

Hans looked at her, but Dianne continued before he could say anything.

”Nothing major, Commander. The roads are still passable in most of the surveyed areas, although some sections are accumulating snow faster than the Engineers expected. Air operations have also been interrupted several times by poor visibility.”

Several newer images opened.

The first was taken farther south from the city. The road was wet but mostly clear, with only traces of snow along the surrounding slopes.

The next image was farther northeast where snow already covered much of the roadside.

The third was difficult to make out at first. The mountains behind the road disappeared behind the thick cloud while wind carried snow sideways across the image.

Hans narrowed his eyes.

Pylow was supposedly cold. The city sat close to the northeastern mountain system, and snow around the higher valleys was hardly something worth calling High Command about.

But this looked different.

One storm could be dismissed.

Two probably could as well.

The reports showed the same problem happening again and again over the past several days. And the farther northeast they moved, the worse it became.

One of the Air Commanders noticed the same thing. A small weather overlay was added beside the reconnaissance routes, marking several areas where flights had repeatedly encountered severe snow and poor visibility.

”The Air Commanders overseeing the northeastern corridor flagged the pattern this morning,” Dianne added. ”They don’t know whether it’s actually unusual yet. We don’t have enough reliable weather data from the region to compare against.”

Most weather stations had stopped transmitting months ago. Even if a few could be repaired, they still wouldn’t tell Hans much about the wider pattern.

He continued watching the images.

The approaches to Pylow were supposed to become colder. They were not supposed to suddenly look like someone turned the difficulty setting all the way to Siberia.

Maybe it was just weather. Maybe the mountains were doing something he didn’t understand.

Or maybe there was another explanation waiting farther northeast.

Whatever it was, Hans had learned enough over the past few months not to dismiss strange things merely because they could probably be explained scientifically.

Sometimes the scientific explanation was the fucking problem.