Arden's room is...a mess. It always is. He's never been the most organized, but with his injuries, it's gotten worse. There are clothes scattered on the floor, dishes piled up on a table, books and papers strewn across every surface. It's nothing like the kind of person I would have expected him to be back at the base. At... the factory base. I guess this... this is our base now.
He's sitting at a desk, his back hunched, his attention fixed on a map spread out in front of him. The map is... homemade, as far as I can tell. It's been drawn by hand, the lines rough, the details sparse. But it's better than nothing, better than being completely blind.
He doesn't look up as I enter, his focus on the task at hand. I hesitate in the doorway, not sure if I should interrupt. But then he sighs, leaning back in his chair, his hand rubbing at his eyes. "Sarah. Good. You're here."
I step inside, closing the door behind me. "You wanted to see me?"
He nods, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Sit. I need your help with something."
I do as he says, pulling the chair closer to the desk. My eyes scan the map, taking in the details. There are markings all over it, some in red, some in black. I don't know what I'm looking at.
"It's out of date." He says, as if that somehow explains what I'm seeing. "It's what I remember about our surroundings. The mountains, the forest. The factory." He points to a spot on the map, a circle drawn in red. "That's us. Right now."
I lean closer, trying to make sense of it. It's hard, but I think I can see the ocean. The mountains. The factory. "You can't draw. At all." I mutter, after a moment.
Arden snorts. "Thanks. I'll add it to the list of my many flaws." He leans forward, his finger tracing a line on the map. "We've been looking for another supply depot, somewhere we can raid without drawing too much attention. Somewhere close, but not too close. But we're running out of options."
I nod, understanding. I've been thinking the same thing, worrying about the same problem. "What about the factory? Couldn't we... is there anything useful there...?"
He shakes his head. "Equipment, certainly. Maybe tools that Maren can use. But if there's any food it won't be enough to matter." He sighs, rubbing at his face again. "We need something big. Something that can last us a while. But the closest depots are too far, too dangerous. And we can't rely on total shock this time. It's reasonable to assume they won't know when we're coming, or which one we'll target. But anything we do target, even if we succeed, will give them vital information." His eyes flick up to me. "Information they'll use to hunt us down."
I chew on my lip, thinking. He's... probably right. They didn't come for us last time, and we don't know why. Perhaps they went to the old base instead and found no one. Perhaps they didn't feel we were worth searching for and presumed we'd already left the caves. But right now we're completely off their map. Whether they're waiting for us to die like pests, or whether they're biding their time and waiting for our second supply run, they have no way of knowing where we've hidden ourselves.
If we attack, it will create a pattern. Even if we surprise them this time, there's no chance they'll be surprised next time. And the choice of supply depot will give them a dangerous idea of where we are.
"We need to throw out chaff." Alistair says, staring down at the paper. "Decoy attacks that keep them from knowing where we are."
Arden gives a soft huff. "Ideally." He falls quiet for a moment, and shakes his head. "But we have one vehicle that's not meant for long distance transport and less than two dozen people. We simply don't have the manpower for it." He leans back in his chair. "We'll just have to take our chances."
He glances up, then, at the top of my head. "Unless...you have any ideas?"
I stare at the map, my mind racing. I know...there has to be something. Some way to... to trick them, to throw them off our scent. Some way to buy us more time. Something that isn't completely a long shot.
"Burn the factory" I say, before I fully form my thought.
"Sarah-" Arden says, voice tired and warning, "That's not-"
"The factory. And the supply depot." I point at both squiggles on the map. "Not just for supplies. If we hit these hard at the same time, they won't know we've taken their supplies. It'll look like we're just... attacking their buildings." I look up at him. "We attack them. We take their things, we burn it all down. If it's a supply run, they can predict where we are, how long we'll take before we're forced to risk it again, and catch us next time. But you can't predict when a cornered dog bites." My hands grip the edge of the chair. "We're going to bite. And then. They'll have no idea where we are."
Arden stares at me, his expression blank. "I admire the creativity. But our enemies aren't fools and we can't treat them like it. Even if we burn their things, we still need to get those supplies back. They'll report that."
"Not if there's no witnesses left." Alistair says from next to me. I didn't even hear him come back in, but he's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his face unreadable.
Arden's eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything." Alistair points at the map. "She's right. It's a good idea. If they can't tell what we're doing, they can't predict us. And like you said. If there's witnesses, they will." He stares down at the map, eyes intense. "So we make sure there aren't any."
I can see the way Arden's jaw tightens, the way his fingers clench around the edge of the desk. He's angry, but he's trying to hide it, trying to stay calm. "And where. Will we get such might? We're survivors, not soldiers."
"Take the factory first." I say, cutting into their argument. "The factory is more isolated, and we know it's defended by machines. Fewer witnesses. We can... use those machines to arm ourselves. Then we attack the supply depot." I look up at them both. "If we do it quickly enough, they won't be prepared for us at the supply depot. And we'll take them by surprise with extra firepower than they expect."
"Even if it's sparsely staffed, those machines have real weapons. That's not a one or two man job." Arden shakes his head. "We'll need to devote a large amount of or people to it, and if we fail - even if some of you survive - it's too close. They'll find us easily." He looks over at Alistair. "I already told you. It's suicide."
"That doesn't change the facts." Alistair counters, pushing off the wall and moving to stand next to me. "We need those weapons. We need supplies. This is the best plan."
"We have to commit," I say, before Arden can respond, "it's the only chance we have. Hit them with all the force we can muster all at once. We've tried sneaking. We've tried elaborate plans and biding our time until the perfect moment, and now there's only 20 of us left. We can't be cautious. We can't take the safe way. We're not going to survive that way."
Arden is quiet, his gaze fixed on the map. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle. He wants to protect us, to keep us safe. But he also knows that we're running out of options, out of time.
"Ivan..." His voice is rough, heavy with the weight of the name.
"Ivan is-" Alistair starts, voice fiery, but Arden silences him, raising his hand.
"Ivan chose to do what he did, to operate as he did, because he felt that it was the best chance we had. He didn't just want us to get home, even though it's what the man never shut up about. He wanted us alive." Arden's eyes lift to mine. "Do you understand, Sarah, that if this fails, everyone dies?" His gaze is fixed on me, not allowing me to break it.
My fingers curl into my knees, and I swallow. "If we don't do this....we all die, too." I say, as evenly as I can. "We just... lose our chance to stop it, first." I let out a breath and meet his gaze. "I think it's worth the risk."
He holds my eyes for a long moment, searching them, reading me. Then he sighs and stands up, leaning heavily on his crutch. "You get ten people. Don't leave until you're fully prepared. And rested."
He starts out the door, then, perhaps to go tell the others. Before he leaves, though, he stops and settles a hand on my shoulder.
"I..." His voice is low, quiet, and heavier than I've ever heard. "Wouldn't have jumped into the water." He meets my gaze, and there's a...sadness there. And something else, maybe. Pride? "Prove to me I'm still wrong, Sarah."
And then he's gone, leaving me and Alistair alone in the room.