Alister raised a computer terminal in the air–similar but smaller than Clara's–waving it at the hooded figure sitting in the corner. The figure approached him and accepted the terminal, tinkering with it. Alister leaned back in his chair to face Theodor, arms spread over the back and table, taking up as much room as humanly possible. "Why the girl and the circus? We could do this on our own."
Sax scoffed. "Circus? Is that what you call that freakshow lorry you drive around in? Garish."
"Who's a circus?" Abigail said, leaning forward, thighs spread, taking up the entire settee. "Me?" she laughed. "That's right, I'm a circus."
"Save your purse," Alister said, ignoring the others, sticking his thumb in his own face. "We will manage this job alone."
"Sure, that'd save them a lot," Clara said. "They don't have to pay dead mercs."
"Is that a threat, young lady?" Alister said.
"Just a prediction."
"I believe the terms of your payment have already been arranged," Theodore said. "They won't change depending on how many of you return. There is no monetary incentive to double-cross, and any actions taken which might jeopardize Harmony property or personnel, such as shooting at one another, shall incur deductions from your pay. Stephanie shall be traveling with you as representative, to make sure things go according to plan."
Clara had largely ignored the Harmony woman sitting at the table. Stephanie straightened her spine and raised her voice. "I presume, one of you has room for one more?"
"We have room," Alister said.
"And we will all play nice," Abigail said, rising and taking up her spear. "I will make sure of that."
"Depart in the morning," Theodore said. "At least leave together, so that Old Blue Eyes thinks you're all friends."
While the others discussed the details of their departure, the hooded Visionary took Clara's wrist terminal and attached a direct cable, updating her zoning data. Eyeing the connection suspiciously, Clara resisted the urge to snatch her terminal back–it contained information which would be valuable to the right person. But the Visionaries were a well-established faction in Quadra, operating the large tower and outpost at its peak, purveying the land. They had more data on the apocalypse zones in their systems than Clara was likely to collect in her lifetime.
"You spelled this incorrectly," Alister said, leaning over the table, tapping his terminal. "The city is not Marsay."
"That's how travelers spell it nowadays," Theodor said. "Think of it as a nickname."
Alister wrinkled his nose, then rose and departed without another word. Beside Clara, the Visionary unplugged her terminal and handed it back.
"Thank you," Clara said, making her leave. Rushing outside, she picked up on Alister's trail in the street, spotting him sauntering ahead down the winding chalk roads. Clara followed him across the open courtyard, sticking to the shadows–seeking without appearing suspiciously sneaky. He stopped outside Lackey's bar, talking with a group drinking at tables outside. Clara kept her pace steady, inspecting the group of mercenaries as she drew closer. She was curious, what made them so confident that they could do this mission on their own? Were they exceptionally powerful, were there Augmented soldiers amongst their ranks, or were they just fools?
One man, short and muscular, dragged a cigarette and eyed Clara as she walked by. He said something to Alister, who turned to face her.
"Evening," Clara said, doffing her military cap, continuing around the block so as not to arouse suspicion, before heading back to her shack.
Clara lay on her bed, inspecting the mapping data which the Visionaries had uploaded to her terminal. She now had detailed information on everything between Quadra and the city Marsay; beyond that was a mystery. On the eastern outskirts of the mountain range which Quadra occupied, a desolation of famine spread inland north, claiming wide swathes of once-thriving farmlands. There were images available and descriptions of the conditions.
Their journey would take them through a narrow stretch of the famine zone and along the coast, which until recently was mapped as a territory once invaded by crab people during the cataclysm. Documents claimed that crustaceous humanoids had risen out of the ocean and swarmed coastal settlements, invading beaches and boarding boats. A relatively weak–classification one–apocalypse, the crab people were overcome by Quadra's forces when the alliance formed seven years ago.
However, those frontier territories were now under attack by a unified faction of sea creatures–not to be mistaken with the crab people–called Fishfolk. The apocalypse's strength was classified as two–a lot more dangerous than the former squishy crab people.
Clara and Andy's journey towards the city Marsay would take them down the coast, through several fishing settlements where the fighting against Fishfolk had become fierce. They would circumvent the most dense urban ruins, following trade routes east. But the protected roads stopped before Marsay. Taking a boat wasn't an option, with the Fishfolk presence. They would have to figure out a way through the city to the industrial district on the coast. The roads were likely congested with derelict cars and collapsed buildings, then there were the zombies.
There were different strains of zombies all across the wasteland, differing widely from each other. Her reports indicated the undead in Marsay were a classification two apocalypse–slow, but perceptive and plentiful.
Clara shook herself out of a doze. She needed sleep, but couldn't rest her mind until their route was fully mapped. It would take them about two days to reach Marsay, assuming the roads were accessible. If she could afford to, she wanted to avoid venturing too far north. Reports indicated that a jungle was growing there, spreading its territory, gradually consuming the surrounding apocalypse zones. Information on the jungle was undetailed–that was never a good sign. Its severity classification was unknown. Without knowing what dangers grew inside the jungle, she couldn't prepare, and Clara hated nothing more than being unprepared.
Sticking her sidearm under her pillow, Clara locked the shack door and blew out the candles. Judging by the mission briefing, this would be the final good rest she'd get in a long time to come.