76°00'08.2"S 53°43'31.2"E - Nuevo Trujillo, Spanish Antarctic Colonies

  19.05.2024 05:00, UTC+03:00

  The train pulled into a gradual halt at N.T. main station. I winced going out, facing a low-hanging sun, in an otherwise busy station.

  “Compose yourself,” I hissed at Miguel, who was yawning next to me. I understood that the jetlag was getting the better of him, but we had to be emotionless for the next minutes. As the doors opened in front of us, flashes of cameras started capturing our every move, journalists yelling questions, trying to shove microphones in the direction of T-2 Azura. We simply followed behind her, not allowed to say anything or reveal any emotion.

  T-2 Azura made a quick pause halfway through the disembarking stairs, letting everyone get enough pictures of all of us. The reporters at the front went into a frenzy of questions, some more nonsensical than the rest.

  “Are rumors of the Queen visiting true?”

  “What are the T-Agents doing here? Is the Domain collapsing?”

  “A message for the citizens of Nuevo Trujillo? A statement for the victims?”

  T-2 Azura ignored all questions. Once she deemed the pictures of the team assigned to be enough, she started walking down the stairs. Some accompanying T-4 Agents ran ahead to clear a path through the press, allowing us to move while still ignoring all the frantic questions.

  “What is Santiago doing to support Nuevo Trujillo?”

  “Did the Domain collapse because the Trastamara House is in danger?”

  I quickly glanced at the reporter who asked the question. He was a man wearing a hat with the brand of Madrid News: Polo Sur, a famously pro-Spain, royal-critical newspaper.

  We crossed through the members of the press and approached a huge vehicle that would lead us to our next stop, presumably the T-HQ of Nuevo Trujillo.

  We got into the car, still chased by reporters’ flashes. Once the car doors closed and the double windows were raised, however, no sound penetrated the walls of the car, not even the car's gears shifting to start our trip.

  “That was easy enough,” T-2 Azura said. No one said anything; Miguel also seemed to have lost his usual smirk.

  The car proceeded with its itinerary. I stood perfectly still in the car, listening to the white noise of my earpiece, tuned to the now unused personal channel I used to maintain with Marcelo. There was no other channel for me to use now besides one of my core team, and anyway, we were all in the same car.

  And it calmed me. I just knew that if Marcelo ever found a way to communicate, that would be the one.

  The car stopped outside the T-HQ.

  “Follow me, men,” Ricardo said, as he exited the car first.

  “Elena, Miguel, Catalina,” Azura added, “you stay in. Your specialties are needed.”

  I saw Miguel grinning excitedly. I nodded in agreement. I had a guess at what this meant, and as sure as I was that this was the right thing to do, it never made it easier. I wondered if Catalina thought the same: she was sitting on the other side of the passenger seat of the vehicle, looking outside the window. She rarely voiced any opinion or preference, but I had no doubt she was going to be part of this mission due to her unique Insight Curse. She was a humble T-4 who had not attempted to rise the ranks and never used her Curse unless commanded to. The three of us had a combined specialty in interrogation that had been used many times.

  Once the doors closed, I heard my earpiece forcibly changing channels. T-2 Azura started whispering her briefing of the situation over the channel. There were no videos this time, nor files. We would have to memorize her report.

  “You will be dropped off at Base Oso, one of the four bases at the edge of the now collapsed Domain. We received reports from the Spanish Military that the Survivor interacted there with some of the volunteers and even a doctor before escaping custody by unknown, possibly Cursed, means. Utilize your combined Curses to extract the full description of the individual. Leave no trace behind. Erase everything. Copy?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Copy,” Miguel said.

  “Understood,” I added. I hated when they called my abilities a Curse, but officially, that was how I was classified. I just liked to believe I was good at my job.

  Catalina nodded.

  The doors opened again. “I will be in comms with you. Use this channel only.” Azura stressed. “Good luck.”

  She exited the car, and as the car’s doors closed, we headed to our new destination.

  “Wouldn’t she be more useful with us?” Miguel scoffed.

  “T-2s do not approach Code Black territories. They know too much to be killed.” I explained. I added the last bit, just to see him squirm in fear, however true it was.

  I looked at Catalina. She was still gazing out the window, her unruly hair partially covering her face. I could not tell if she was unhappy or indifferent to the situation.

  “Terrifying, what happened here…” I said eventually, to gather a reaction. She only looked at me in response. The black circles below her eyes accentuated her glare as she widened her eyes, before proceeding to stare outside.

  “What’s gotten into her?” Miguel mumbled. I did not respond because I did not know. Maybe it was what she was ordered to do with us.

  It did not take long to reach Base Oso. As the car drove around the perimeter, it became obvious that calling this a Base was an overstatement. It was a makeshift camp at best, and the Spanish Military was controlling its entrances. The spring Spanish climate was not extending to this area, forcing us to wear our polar suits to combat the cold. We all knew, of course, that these suits would only buy us a minute or two in case of another violent Domain collapse.

  It also became crystal clear once we stepped into the camp that the Spanish Military was not there only to protect the gates of the camp. They focused their efforts mostly on preventing anyone from leaving the premises.

  A group of volunteers in jackets was arguing with them as we crossed the gates.

  “No one is leaving the Base, by Royal Command,” one of the soldiers explained to us.

  “We are medical volunteers, we need to also return to our residencies,” a man begged among the volunteers. He turned to us, hoping to get a reaction: “Will you let us out?”

  We ignored them and we were rushed into the building that was the center of operations – probably a grocery store before calamity hit it – and into an empty windowless room.

  There were fifteen people inside, all wearing medical or volunteer suits. It would be a long day.

  “Do not fret,” I said as soon as I saw them. “We are here to help.” Their faces lit up, and they smiled.

  I went ahead in the next room, while I heard Miguel call the first one: “Sanchez, come over here, buddy.”

  We all sat at a round table. I was across from Sanchez, a guy of Chinese descent in his late twenties. Catalina was on my left holding a big notepad with blank paper and a pencil, and Miguel found his place, relaxed, on my right.

  I smiled.

  “So, what is your name? I am T3-Elena.”

  “I am Haoyu Sanchez,” he said in Spanish, with a minor accent.

  “I presume you are a local refugee from the Chinese District of N.T.?” I politely asked.

  “Yes, madame.” Chinese-Spanish families were common in the north of Nuevo Trujillo, in what has been dubbed the Chinese District.

  I nodded with worry. “I am so sorry for what happened at the very heart of your home. We are here to help you the best we can. So, tell me what you experienced.”

  He looked hesitant at first, and we all stared at him for a good half a minute in silence.

  “I was in the center when we heard that something happened to the Paseo. I ran as fast as I could, as some of my family live around these parts, but luckily, far enough south. Once I learned they were safe and sound, I conscripted myself to the nearest camp to help people hit by the edge of the Breach.”

  “The Breach?” I asked.

  “That’s how we call it around here.”

  “And why did you volunteer?”

  “I am a nurse. I knew I could maybe help. No one survived in the north, but people who were at the border of this area needed medical attention.”

  Miguel did not move, nor Catalina. This was my part of the job. Easing them into it.

  “Are you sure no one survived the north?”

  “Well, some of my colleagues claim they saw someone survive. But I think they are just making it up. No one can possibly survive this.”

  I looked at him a bit and I laughed. Catalina nodded, ever so slightly, negatively.

  “Sorry, you are right. My friend here always makes up stupid stories as well. Let’s talk about the day then…”

  I continued the discussion, pretending to be interested in other details of his story. After ten minutes, he was sent out before the next person joined.

  “This might take a while,” Miguel said and sighed.