A duffle bag hung onto the credenza near the front door, the old woman removing boots as she announces her arrival to the cavernous interior. A raspy voice echoing into the mansion, lonely in creation. “I’m home!”

For a few seconds the usual emptiness sets in, sharp ears listening to the words bounce across sparsely decorated halls. Across picture frames of Trainees, through old, barely used furniture; an isolated soul alone in space.

Interrupted as the old man suddenly slides around the corner, a smile on aging features and jovial voice towering over the world. “Welcome back!”

Sergeant Major Katherine Lee jumps at the sight, a defensive stance readied before recognition. “JESUS fuck! Issac, you scared the shit outta me.”

Outside his usual dress uniform, Admiral Issac Tucker betrayed a strange civilian quality. Hidden underneath a casual long shirt and sweatpants hides a politician's gaze, an old warrior ready to execute warfare beyond the battlefield. “What, you forgot I was here?”

She hesitates in her reply, a rare stutter edging the words. “N-no.”

“Yeah you totally did Kat.” Issac jokes as he dismisses the glance, pulling himself back around the corner. “Dinner’s ready in five.”

The scent of cooking garlic snaps at noses, followed by an undertone of earthy grains steaming in opened pressure cookers. Realized hunger pangs empty stomachs, a day spent screaming at Trainees burning caloric payloads.

A cleaned kitchen area filled with opened ingredients, Issac the midst of a cleanup as the final minutes of a cooking time countdown. He watches as the old woman seats herself on a bar stool next to the kitchen island, detaching her prosthetic limb and placing it on cold granite. A question asked at the most general degree, voice soft as he stands against the roaring induction cooktop. “So how was work?”

Katherine just stares at him, a laughter sounded as she realizes the implication of his words. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

A moment of consideration, the old man shaking his head as he laughs alongside her. “I did just ask that, didn’t I?”

“You’re getting old.” She smirks, then groans. “Fuck, I’m getting old too. Damn it!”

Issac continues off of his line of questioning in mild chuckling. “So, two weeks left in the cycle right? At least for this class.”

“Two weeks left.” Katherine confirms with a recovering sigh. “We’re finishing up assignments for them right now actually, most of them are going to the Navy.”

“How many marines?”

“Six, maybe seven.” The Sergeant Major begins. “But, Trainee Murakami’s guaranteed to be going to the Combat Engineering track, so two years up in Camp Armstrong.”

“Does he know?”

“The entire class knows.” The Head Instructor scoffs. “He has the penchant, and they all know it. In fact they’re the ones forcing him to take the utility pylons every time.”

“Really?”

“According to Trainee Rosenberg it’s all about ‘making sure he doesn’t blow us up in three years.’”

Issac attempts to hold in a laugh as he shifts the bodies of sauteing shrimp within the frying pan, commenting on the actualized plan with experience. “Well it’s good to get him started early.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told ‘em.”

A nose detecting the scent, curiosity brought to bear as Katherine attempts to look past Issac’s form. “What the fuck are you cooking anyway?”

“Garlic Butter shrimp, roasted broccoli and rice.” He answers swiftly. “There’s also some of that leftover lasagna in the fridge.”

A full spread, the woman reminded of a more incompetent character. “Still remember when the only thing you could make was a frozen pizza?”

The bite of embarrassment on his face, response held with humor. “Don’t bring that up please.”

Katherine waves aside with a snarky smile. “Whatever you say.”

Bone white plates placed onto the kitchen island, dramatic presentation rejected in favor of a simple dinner between two souls.

Plump, fat shrimp cooked to perfection. Golden seared, each one curled within its own little sector of the serving platter; the entire thing bathed in a light coating of butter and slightly burnt garlic.

Alongside it, still steaming from the oven, a whole layer of roasted broccoli was laid out atop the baking pan. Large crystals of salt and fine pepper spread over them, a spritz of lemon juice adding one more dimension onto the simple flavor profile.

From the pressure cooker Issac tops two bowls with white rice, grains nicely individualized from a perfect, computer-assisted cook.

A final backup entree heated up in a simple microwave: a half-consumed tray of hearty lasagna completing the meal. Pastry dough broken by rich layers of ground beef and savory tomato sauce topped with cheese, a visible cross section once again tempting souls towards leftovers.

Stainless steel forks and spoons, distributed and weights checked.

A short clasping of hands by Issac Tucker as he finds a seat across from her, small prayer spoken in minds. Two lines in three seconds, the man looking up. “Let’s eat!”

Passing minutes of silent enjoyment, taste buds savoring flavors and tongues pressing against unique textures. A consumption of a wholesome meal, just a bit more than enough for the two.

Watching as Katherine eats, he bridges an earlier conversation. “Have you seen the next class’s profiles?”

She swallows a mouthful of shrimp and rice, answering his question with a specification. “What, next year’s?”

“A majority from GN12.” Issac answers. “Thirty two.”

“Shit… that’s a lot…” The woman leans back. “I think my days of memorizing everyone is almost over.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“I’m getting old.” Katherine stops as she puts down her fork, pulling her sole hand over her slightly wrinkled face in the recognition of age. “Fuck…”

“We still got at least a few more years, give or take.” He assures.

“You with your cushy job, sure.”

“Hey!” The old man pauses as he cuts a slice of lasagna from the tray. “Did you even watch the news?”

“Listen we suspended the entire fucking training session that day just to watch it happen live.” Katherine repeats. “You think it’s healthy for me to watch you pull that shit? No, it’s not.”

“In my defense it worked.” Issac offers as reconciliation. “Cushy job or not, Task Force Thirty-One just saved the world. All it took was a few touch and go moments and…”

“You took Jack hostage.” The woman interrupts as she stares at her partner, stating facts slowly. “You know Ingrid called me when they cut the feeds? She was fucking hysterical.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah she did. We thought you’d finally gone crazy and decided to take as many of ‘em out as you could.”

A pause. “Thank you for your faith in me, I think.”

“Hell from what I’ve heard you almost got most of Marauder killed along with the Rubicon.” Katherine collects as she sips from a glass of water. “Your little suicide squad is making its rounds.”

“Really?” The man answers with a bored tone.

“Yeah they are.” The Instructor answers directly. “Station Four burning up over the South China Sea, a special warfare team killing some eighty Java Treaty and S.L.F. fucks in a forty minute long shootout, and a state of the art U.S. cruiser getting humiliated by a fucking corvette a fourth of her size? Yeah it’s going to be news. Literally every group chat I’m in is talking about what you guys did.”

“Every group chat?” A minor scoff from Issac. “What are they saying?”

“The Java Treaty’s dead.” The woman answers. “Not sure how right they are though.”

“It basically is. You hear about the sanctions the Gang of Four’s putting on them? The entire Middle East and South Asia is folding on itself.” Admiral Tucker explains. “Not that it wasn’t already.”

Words noted, she continues. “Also like every Special Warfare Team’s wondering how the fuck you guys managed to get away with this. There’s a thousand regs against what guys just did.”

A chuckle through the glass of water. “Well, there are some explanations best left open to interpretation… especially with the rest of the Force’s Brass breathing down my neck.”

“Well you’re lucky that you’re even here in the States right now. Literally the first thing Jack did when he landed was pardon you.” Katherine scolds. “You know you were on the CIA’s most wanted list for a few hours right?”

“Jack wanted to keep me there for longer; said I looked funny in the photo.”

“That sounds like something he’d do.”

“Yeah… it does.”

An implied social contract, the leftover lasagna a primary objective to complete before the other dishes. Saltier than before, bowls of rice used to bring down the intense taste to manageable levels.

“So where’s the rest of them?” Sergeant Major Katherine Lee asks.

“What?”

“Marauder.” The woman specifies. “I assume you’ve told them to lay-low, given that literally everyone knows what they’ve done up there. I’m pretty sure some slimy media channel’s trying to get their faces plastered across the planet all things considered.”

Admiral Tucker shrugs. “They deserve some leave anyway. After going through that with them, I think it’s good to have a good week or so to decompress.”

Katherine smiles at the words. “Well, seems like you do learn after all.”

A light morning snow in central Beijing.

Pristine white flakes falling ever so quietly onto snow drifts, frigid air freezing exhaled breath in clouds of steam. Parks built between monolithic apartment blocks, leafless trees and bushes covered up with powdery ice.

Bundled up in thick clothing, Captain Michelle Perez watches a gray sky deposit fragility onto Earth below. Air burning lungs, a minor cough as the woman attempts to acclimatize to a foreign environment.

The young girl suddenly grabs onto her coat, followed quickly by a boy. Two fraternal siblings screaming out in a winter wonderland as they pester a newly introduced family member.

“Auntie!” The girl begins in Chinese. “Help us make a snow fort!”

“Yeah, a big big snow fort!” The boy adds.

Archaic pronunciation from children barely translated, Perez smiles as she huddles herself with embarrassment. Poor accent, a voice speaking up before interruption.

A mother arrives, a coat half-put on as she chases after children. “Hey kiddos talk slower to your Auntie!”

Both children glance between them, speaking up. “Sowwry Auntie Perez.”

“It is ok, you are ok.” The woman leans down, an accent obvious against native speakers. “Where do you want to build the place?”

A question stumping children, young minds blanking on optimal construction locations. The boy is the first to request advisement, raising a hand up. “Oh, Uncle Shu knows the best places!”

“Yeah, he always knows the best places!” The girl confirms.

Master Sergeant Ling Shu arrives from behind, jogging through cleared snow banks. “Alright, what am I supposed to know?”

“Uncle Shu!” The kids exclaim.

“I’m here!” The man springs back. “What’s going on?!”

“We are deciding where to build an epic snow fort!” The girl reports.

“Yeah, a BIG snow fort!” The boy adds.

“Ohhhh…” Ling thinks for a moment, observing possible fighting positions within the apartment block’s huge park commons. “Are we looking to make a big one or a defensible one?”

“Big one!” The boy chooses.

“No, a defensible one!” The girl objects.

“Well first you need to decide what sort of objective you want.” The Marine lectures. “Are you making a house to live in, or a place to have a snowball fight?”

The two kids silence themselves, staring at one another as a decision is made between a blood relation. Both speak at once. “A snowball fight FORT!”

“There we go!” Ling snaps gloved fingers, a smile reaching ear to ear. “Let’s build the ultimate FORT! Are you with me?!”

The kids leap into the air, fists raised in preparation “Yeah we’re with you Uncle Shu!”

Trudging off into the snow, the trio leaves behind the pair of women.

The Mother shakes her head in laughter, a voice quiet against a bundled up scarf aimed towards an interloper within their midst. “Hey sis, I need to tell you something.”

Perez turns to the future sister-in-law, answering in Chinese. “What is it?”

“You take care of Shu alright?” The woman grabs Perez’s arm. “He’s always one to get himself hurt, despite our best efforts. Us sisters have tried to keep him on the right track, but… here he is.”

“Shu can take care of self.” Perez answers as she watches a lover play in snowbanks. “But I will do what I do. Promised.”

New York City’s skyline ignites the darkness, huge skyscrapers reaching upward towards stars illuminated by thousands of LED lights.

Across the East River and looking outward towards the Queensboro Bridge, the dining hall of the United Nations Headquarters was barely occupied. Warmth within well heated buildings allowing for a moment of respite from near sub-zero temperatures outside, comfort granted by humanity united.

A late dinner consumed, dishes self-served from robotic chefs behind closed doors and delivered to customers on automated waiters. A majority of patrons found in the half-dozen well-dressed delegation staff working late night, a consistency broken by three seemingly unauthorized civilians within the hall.

Out of uniform, two members of Marauder Team and one of the Rubicon’s crew sit around consuming a long desired meal. A synthetic rib-eye steak with mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus, the standardized dish ordered by each member of the small entourage alongside a single bottle of real wine.

Lieutenant Johnathan Keys speaks up, wiping a bit of sauce from his mouth with the U.N. inscribed blue courtesy handkerchief. “Man, what a day. Chrysler Building, World Trade Center, Rockefeller, and even managed to squeeze in the Empire State Building.”

“Come on, pace yourself Johnathan.” Lieutenant Natalia Ano chuckles. “We still have four days left here.”

“Just wanted to knock out all the cool buildings first. I mean, that’s what you wanted to see right?” Keys blinks.

A halted embarrassment, the woman clicking her tongue as she sips a glass of wine. “Well, I was more interested in the newer towers. But watching you have that much fun was candy enough.”

The two engineers laugh among themselves, interrupted by Corporal Mercier who speaks up in curiosity. “I do not understand why big buildings are intéressant.”

Both of them look at the petite form, silence emanating for just a few seconds.

Ano speaks up first, a hint of hostility held within her voice. “Mercier, what are you even doing hanging out with us?”

The young woman answers her with cold words. “I have nothing good to do with time, and it was most acceptable to come with you.”

Keys asks a separate question, slightly insensitive in social creation. “Didn’t think Ling and Perez would make good tour guides?”

“They are there to visit Master Sergeant family.” Mercier stops. “I do not think it would be appropriate to go with them.”

“That’s what they’re doing?!” Lieutenant Keys lowers his volume, confusion spreading across his face and voice. “I didn’t know about this…”

“Why else would you take your fiancée back to your hometown?!” Natalia bites at her fellow Engineer. “Keys, what the fuck.”

“He never told me!” Jonathan replies in utter disarray. “I thought it was like… hey let’s go on vacation to a place I know or something? See the Great Wall of China, or you know just visit the Bunker…”

“You really didn’t know did you?” The fellow Engineer blinks at him.

“I mean I suspected, but he never told me!”

Lieutenant Ano and Corporal Mercier exchange a quick glance, X chromosomes bridging the gap between cultures. “Men.”

“Oh don’t do this to meeee.” Keys groans as he cuts another perfect square from his steak. “I really didn’t know about this. I’m sorry!”

“You’re fine…” A dismissed sigh from Natalia Ano, consumed alcohol beginning to arrive in bloodstreams. “If people out there would be more considerate of personal relationships, the world would be a much better place.”

“Yes, it would be much better.” Estelle Mercier agrees as she stares directly into the Chief Engineer’s eyes.

Silence falls at the table, Lieutenant Keys happily dividing up the remaining pieces of roasted asparagus and mashed potatoes on his plate. Buttery and smooth potatoes interjected with the tender yet crispy stalks of mildly charred vegetables, a meal enjoyed in isolation from the half-eaten shank of industrially grown meat.

A full two minutes of hostile silence passing among the group before realization of an issue, Jonathan turning at the two conspirators. “W-What’s happening? Did I do something wrong?”

Both gazes are turned to him, a full realization of the Combat Engineer’s nearly non-existent social wisdom displayed perfectly to the pair. Both say the word at the exact same time. “Men.”

A small town in the middle of nowhere.

Marked by signs in barely understood Polish, a small plot of land carved out of fields of grain for the singular site of burial within municipal districts.

The cold December wind against thin layers of clothing, cloudless sky enjoyed in the best of circumstances.

Strolling through the brick paths between plots the huge man counts off rows of headstones, a mind quiet in movement. A small bouquet of half-frozen flowers, brilliant coloring off against the pale greenery of well-maintained evergreen trees and fields of lawn grass.

A memorized grid location reached, a single grave marked with an undecorated headstone.

The huge man stands in silence as he reads the foreign language, an alphabet once removed from a native tongue unrecognizable after a thousand years of cultural drift.

Nikolai Chernyshevsky speaks to her, Russian acting as a meditation to souls. “Hey… I hope you can understand me speaking my language. I’m not going to attempt to speak English right now; all things considered the past five years have not been kind to my linguistic abilities. And really, I sure hope I’m at the right grave right now since your name isn’t exactly easy to read.”

The world remains quiet.

“I’m back in the Force. Unexpected, I know; especially looking back at the last time I spoke to you… I wasn’t exactly ‘civil’ about my thoughts. But, I think we’re doing something good and objectively different from before. Not sure if you have news up there, but just so you know it got pretty dicey. Still, everyone survived, partially because of me; I had to patch up my squad leader. It was pretty bad. Though, I’m certain you were watching my back. So, thank you for that.”

A pause as he thinks of words. “I brought some flowers, even though I know you never liked getting them anyway. So, enjoy whatever strange sort of thought that made this an actual tradition.”

Placing the bundle of color in front of headstones, a light laughter as he remembers old memories. “And you were right, right about everything. I’m sorry.”

A meal completed, the final quarter of food seemingly evaporated against both of the aged souls.

Atop a projected television screen an INN news feed plays repeated footage: President Jack Cooper’s exclusive post-attack interview. Boisterous hand movements yet humble words, a born politician describing carnage in a confusingly humorous manner. Sergeant Major Katherine Lee watches the report with lean interest, listening in as the short man describes the operational capacity of a GSW-PDP handgun used in a targeted elimination of hostile forces.

Next to her Admiral Issac Tucker keeps eyes glued on his tablet, reports read with a stiff intensity. Recovery efforts in the South China Sea yielding fragments of the Battle for Station Four, photos attached to intelligence documents: still suited corpses of well identified Java Treaty Troopers alongside half-decomposed and burned civilian workers and security forces; the casualty count at least two hundred estimated. Iconic pieces recovered as trophy items; surviving fragments of airlocks, old souvenirs, and personal belongings of all creation.

“This is alright.” Katherine suddenly vocalizes. “Being here, just living… fuck! Now I’m thinking all about retirement!”

“This isn’t a bad way to spend your last years.” Issac chuckles at her words. “Getting dementia from watching uWatch videos, getting angry at the youth, you know all the things old people do.”

“Fuck off.” She bites out a smile as the remaining arm shoves his shoulder. “And stop laughing! I mean look at yourself; Task Force Thirty One’s basically your last blaze of glory before the Council forces you into retirement.”

“Don’t remind me.” The old man rolls his eyes.

“Beginning of the end.” Katherine snaps her fingers. “The ballad of Issac Tucker himself, forced into…”

A phone call interrupts the conversation, the Admiral standing as he pulls the device from his pocket. Caller ID recognized, Tucker turns back to her. “Sorry I have to take this.”

“Always a fucking Officer to ruin your night.” Katherine grumbles with a chuckle, watching as he exits out into the outdoor patio.

Chilly December air upon old bodies, the Flag Officer answering the call with a dreaded tone. “T.A.C., what’s up?”

The robotic voice is immediate in response, a simulated nervousness echoing through the phone line. “Sorry to bother you on leave Admiral, but I’ve finished the intel-analysis you wanted.”

Admiral Tucker takes a tense breath at the words, shutting his eyes in his answer. “How many?”

T.A.C. moves against human sensitivity, words soft in the delivery of news. “No guarantees, the documents you provided were comprehensive but even…”

“How many?” The Flag Officer repeats sternly.

An answer dreaded, a hope extinguished at the spoken words.

A pause before the Machine replies. “All of them.”

Silence as the howl of wind echoes through the hillsides, the old man staring out into the night sky above. A half-illuminated moon ignited by city lights, an international conglomeration of colonies blending through atmospheric disturbances. The future of mankind, a path to the stars teetering at the edge of annihilation.

“Admiral?” T.A.C. pings as seconds pass.

“Are you certain?” Tucker asks quietly.

The Machine repeats an answer. “Yes sir, all of the seated Admiralty Board Members have at least two connection points.”

Cold words augmented with warmth; a maintenance of personnel kept close. “Understood, thank you.”

“No problem sir.” T.A.C. replies. “Have a good night.”

Sliding glass doors open as the tired form walks in, panes shutting automatically behind him as he sits back down on the sofa. Eyes glazed over in thought, staring at the mindless broadcast in silence.

“Well, haven’t that face in a while.” Sergeant Major Lee chuckles as she watches a partner. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No, I don’t think I can.” The Admiral replies. “Except…”

Words fail the Flag Officer, thoughts converging against him as he prioritizes thirteen lives against thousands. A decision to be made later, among soldiers and comrades.

Back towards a normal life.

He turns towards her with a smile, a mind taken back from the brink.

“This is just the beginning.”