The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(80)

“I really don’t like the sound of that,” Lindsey grumbled. She had already hacked into the news feed to see how their missions were being depicted. The coverage was what she’d expected. The news vids from the tiltrotors were used to show the heavy infestation in the cities, but never the beauty of the outside world. The president was making sure that all the hopes and dreams of the people were squarely on the survival of The Bastion. She supposed it made sense, but it also made her sad. Hope was important to the human spirit. That was a lesson she was learning as her aspirations for a future with Torran began to solidify. She’d also seen the way the squad was being immortalized, and it made her uneasy to be held up as some iconic figure when she was just a weary soldier doing her job. “Why do they need us to be celebrities?”

“President Cabot is doing his best to ensure his legacy as the savior of The Bastion. That means the propaganda machine is working overtime to create a narrative that favors him. Right now the theme is ‘leading against all odds.’ So having one specialized team busting their ass to save The Bastion fits that narrative. Limited personnel plus limited resources equals heroes against all odds. Also, Vanguard Rooney, the more people we send out, the more chances there are for failure and death. He’s trying to minimize that possibility.”

“But we need more food, right? We could haul in so much more with multiple squads running missions.”

“Yes, but President Cabot’s people assure him that as long as the Level Three rationing stays stable, there won’t be any more riots. The supplies you’re bringing back will keep the city at Level Three. Plus, the first crops will be harvested in a few months. That may drop us to Level Two.” Commandant Pierce cocked her head. “Also, you need to consider that the less people they have going out there, the easier it will be for the SWD to capture Vanguard Martinez and Castellan Reichardt and control that narrative as well.”

“Does everything have to be so damn political?” Lindsey huffed, irritably tugging at her braid.

“Sadly, yes.”

“I’m a soldier. I’m not cut out for all this intrigue.”

“You’re doing a fine job, Vanguard Rooney.”

“I missed what they might possibly be doing with the pulses,” she groused.

“Well, the suspected SWD purpose for the pulses is disguised as a legitimate facet of a well-planned excursion. Honestly, I’m just guessing that’s what they’re doing. Only you can discern if they’re actually looking for them using the pulses.”

“Which I will,” Lindsey said darkly. She was already planning to study the pulses and take another look at their excursions for any hidden patterns.

“I can see that exhaustion is coming into play. I’ll request very strongly that the squad have two days off. I’ll make the suggestion to the president in a way that will appeal to him. Like he’s showing fatherly compassion or something of the sort.”

“We could use two days after today’s mission. This one is a big challenge. The Notre Dame Food Depot is massive. We’re taking six transports. Luckily, it’s well fortified. In fact, all the excursions since the first one have been to food depots that have much better security. Which brings me to this... why all the food depots? If our founders knew they were moving to The Bastion, why not move the food here?”

“The Bastion was supposed to be self-sufficient, remember? Also...” Commandant Pierce hesitated. “Well, Lindsey, there was always the hope we would be going back to claim the world. And part of the plan was to provide resources for the new pioneers.”

A cold finger of dread slid down her spine. “So us raiding those resources is us giving up on that hope, isn’t it?”

Commandant Pierce looked down at her desktop and the screen glowing there. “Yes, to some degree. We need to concentrate on saving ourselves right now. Returning to the outside world is something that just doesn’t seem viable.”

Lindsey wondered if it would ever be viable.

“I think we’re done here,” the commandant said finally.

Standing, Lindsey saluted and started for the door.

“Vanguard Rooney, be a little more diligent in the future missions. A little more... inquisitive. And don’t trust anyone,” Commandant Pierce’s voice said, the granite in the words a little frightening. “Even bedfellows.”

Lindsey almost turned around, but thought better of it. It seemed Petra was keeping an eye on Lindsey and Torran for the commandant. “Yes, sir.”

She left the office and the doors shut behind her.

Petra swiveled about in her chair, her pad in one hand. It was if she were waiting for Lindsey to say something. Anger pricking at her determination to be civil, Lindsey pulled a protein bar from her pocket and set it on the desk.

“For your kids.”

“Thank you, Lindsey.”

Setting one hand on Petra’s desk, Lindsey bent toward her. “Stay out of my private life.”

Petra met Lindsey’s stare with a calm expression. “Even though your worm has been very good at eradicating all traces of you and Torran in the city security feeds, people have eyes. They see things. Such as you entering his flat and him joining you in your dorm room. And people talk, Lindsey. I know you’re completely enmeshed in your tech, but the tech is not always going to protect you.”