Dewy's Nightmare

Chapter Three: Tussle and Resolve

The air in the command bunker was thick with quiet dread. The constant drone of servers was punctuated by the sharp click of a tablet hitting a polished mahogany table. Field Marshall Josephine, her posture as rigid as a reinforced bulkhead, had just concluded her grim report.

"Reports for the recent incidents," she began, her voice a precision instrument of command. "July 12th, Northern region: Neméan aerial drones dropped ballistic missiles on refugee settlements. August 29th, at Keystone City, enemy war machines decimated our fortress. And five days ago, the 3rd Division engaged the enemy at Styx Port. Same result. No man was left standing."

The finality in her voice, punctuated by the thud of her tablet, left a silence as profound as a freshly dug grave. Major General Zach broke the stillness with a weary sigh. "We're losing ground. Their tech is superior, their strategy flawless. Humanity is doomed."

"Not anymore, sir," a calm, resolute voice interjected. Captain Dewey. "The 6th Division made a breakthrough yesterday."

Josephine’s gaze, sharp enough to slice diamonds, fixed on Dewey. "That's not on our records, Captain."

"Apologies, Marshall," Dewey said, her professionalism barely concealing urgency. "The blame lies with the 6th. The report has been corrected. I'll send it now."

As they reviewed their tablets, a new prompt appeared. Gasps of awe filled the room as they saw the data: holographic schematics of enemy strongholds, live feeds of destroyed war machines, and a casualty counter that, for the first time in months, was not a one-sided horror show.

"I call that a breakthrough," Daniel said, a hint of triumph in his voice. "Four enemy supply vans recovered, two sites destroyed. For the first time, their casualties outnumbered ours. The 6th is worth the praise."

"I'd say the same," General Usman added, admiration in his eyes. "Who knew the rejected stone would become the chief pillar? We refused to acknowledge the 6th Division, but they've proved their worth. Victory is too savory to deny."

Field Marshall Josephine’s usual formality gave way to tangible excitement. "Items recovered: carbon warheads, plasma artilleries, heat cannons, magnetic grenades, warp suits, anti-camouflage tech, energy Dome components, battle nanites, and… some other mysterious items." She concluded, her gaze intense. "With these arms, we'll have an edge. The tide will turn."

"Let's assume the enemy has millions of these," Major General Zach cut in, the eternal pragmatist. "It's a good start, but let's not underestimate them. We'll have to be tactical."

"The warheads are a guaranteed victory," Usman added, confidence on his face. "One or two of those Angels of Destruction will do the trick."

Dewey's celebratory mood evaporated. "Let's not forget that one of those warheads is also enough to wipe clean an entire continent," she said, her voice coarse with emotion. The room fell silent. She had just used the "C" word—caution.

Lieutenant Colonel Daniel’s interest was piqued. "Go on, Captain. If you have something in mind."

Dewey took a deep breath, scanning the faces around the table. She pulled up a new screen, a stark contrast to the triumphant images of the raid. It showed a topographical map of a city, eight years ago, before and after.

"These are carbon warheads, prototypes. They've not been used before, not even by the enemy. We have no idea what their damages can cause. My mother was a victim of a previous nuclear fallout. Radiation seeped into her body, leading to marrow cancer. She’s been in a sickbed for ages, along with countless others who lost their lives to radiation poisoning. We must study these weapons, understand their side effects before they become the death of us."

"It's a risk worth taking," General Usman interrupted, his patience wearing thin. "We can't just sit here and let the enemy make the first move. We finally have a chance to strike back, and you want to preach caution?"

"With all due respect, sir," Dewey retorted, fierce conviction replacing her deference. "I object to that decision with my own life. Have you looked at the results of nuclear aftermaths? Our beaches are filled with nuclear pollutants. Fishes and birds fall from the sky. Our people are getting sick, dying. The risk is too great. I hope this house concurs."

General Usman’s face reddened with fury. "You do not speak for this house, Captain, and mind your manners when addressing your superiors."

"That's enough!" Colonel Daniel’s voice boomed. "Gentlemen, please, be calm. This is a peaceful discussion. General, we will sanction the use of the warheads for the time being. We don't understand them yet. We'll decide how to utilize the other gear we've recovered. There are more pressing matters to discuss."

With that, the meeting moved on, consuming the rest of the day. As the sun began to set, Colonel Daniel made his concluding speech. "This comes to an end of today's Veteran meeting. The 6th is now officially part of the Rebel Opposition Army, and Captain Dewey is the newest member of the Veterans. The arms we've recovered will be shared amongst each respective Division. If no questions are taken, we're dismissed."

As the Veterans scattered, Dewey moved toward the exit. She was mentally and physically drained. Just as she was about to leave, Lieutenant Colonel Daniel caught up to her.

"Wait up, Captain!" He put a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry about today. The Veterans are just grumpy old geezers. Congrats on your upgrade. We should get you a proper decoration."

"Thank you, Colonel," Dewey replied, forcing a smile. Her first meeting with her "idols" hadn't gone as she expected.

"Before I forget," Daniel continued. "My regards to Obi. He knows how to handle these guys. Maybe next time, you'll swing by the 3rd Division with Obi. We'll have some drinks."

"That would be fine, sir," Dewey replied. "I should be going. It's getting dark, and enemy sentinels will be crawling around."

"Right, of course, Captain," Colonel Daniel laughed. "See you on the battlefield, and try not to die."

Dewey stepped into the sleek cockpit of the Roadrunner. "It's past five, Cap. Did you forget the route?" Joseph asked, his voice full of mock concern.

"Of course not, Joe. Those fellas were a handful. Hit the road, buddy. I'm so drained, I could sleep for a week."

"That's the magic word, Cap," Joseph declared, and the Roadrunner hummed to life. Its stealth field engaged, and they zipped off, a silent streak against the fading light.

As they drove, Dewey pulled out her phone and smiled at a new message from Oma, an image of her wearing a large helmet with a mischievous grin. "You can come home now, Captain," the message read. "The bad guys are gone. I beat them all with my super-duper bat!"

A genuine laugh bubbled up from deep within her soul. The weariness lifted, replaced by a profound sense of purpose. The veterans could argue over tactics, but it was Oma and the other children who were the true reason they fought. This was a war to give her sister a world where a baseball bat was just a toy.

Back at the base, the Roadrunner settled into the hangar. Dewey’s face was a mask of exhaustion and resolve. She found her way to the mess hall, where Kane, her Sergeant Major, was sharing a moment with the troops. He saw her and immediately stood.

"Everything went as planned," Dewey said simply. "The 6th is officially part of the Rebel Opposition Army. And I'm on the Veterans' council now."

A small murmur of congratulations went through the mess hall, but Kane's expression remained serious. He followed her out to her quarters.

"What's wrong, Captain?" he asked. "You got what you wanted. What did it cost?"

Dewey sighed, running a hand through her hair. "They're different. They're more concerned with victory than the cost. They were ready to deploy those carbon warheads, the very menaces that caused all the problems in the first place."

Kane's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are they out of their minds? We’ve lost men to radiation sickness. We can't risk another fallout."

"That was my point," Dewey said. "But General Usman just wants to win. He's forgotten what he's fighting for."

She sat on her cot. "I convinced them to hold off. But it's a temporary victory. They'll push again. The next time, they might not listen."

Kane pulled up a chair. "Then you'll have to make them listen, Captain. The 6th listens to you. We fight for you. We know what's at stake. We've seen it firsthand."

Dewey looked at him, her eyes reflecting weariness and determination. "That's the thing, Kane, they haven't. They're sitting in a polished bunker. They don't see the bodies, the sick, the dying. We do. And that's our leverage."

"So, what now?" he asked, his tone shifting.

"We do what we do best," she said, her voice regaining its steel. "We show them what the enemy is capable of. We study the samples and show them what happens when you use those weapons. We prove this is a war for survival. We can't poison the world we're trying to save."

Kane nodded. "So, the 6th is a scientific research team, with a side mission of kicking butt."

Dewey managed a weak laugh. "Something like that. We're the unpolished, unprofessional, and vital new face of this war. We'll fight our way, and we'll win. Now, get some sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

As Kane left, Dewey lay on her cot, the weight of the day pressing down on her. But amidst it all, she felt hope. She had a new voice, a new platform, and an opportunity to change the course of the war. Her division, once outcasts, was now at the heart of the rebellion. For the first time, she felt like they had a real chance. She closed her eyes, a small, resolute smile on her face. The war for humanity had just gotten a new champion.

Dewey fell into a deep slumber, her stress-filled snore echoing in her chamber, having forgotten to check on Oma and her bedridden mother.

The night went unusually well. Patrols scoured the terrain, securing the base, keeping an eye out for hulks and creeping bugs. The 6th, unlike other divisions, had a strategic way of countering the enemy: plan, strategize, bait, surprise. Few in number, they possessed high-tech weapons, acquired from their raid. Their feat was something the Rebel Opposition Army needed to turn the tide.

But amidst the utter void of the night, lighted only by distant enemy searchlights, a strange shadowy figure moved amongst trees and shrubs, what could it be ?.