Sanctioned: 6

Sanctioned: 6

…

Commissioned by Ichypa

Wordcount: 2500

…

The Americans loved their aerial supremacy, even in a world where some folks could go supersonic and fire lasers out of the eyes. In the early years, there was some aerial piracy going on. Not as threatening as pirates going after shipping lanes and cargo ships, but still a hefty threat to the world’s economy. The ones terrorizing the skies got a kick out of it for a bit, but once the marine shipping lanes were secured, the Americans went to work on owning the skies again.

They hadn’t grounded their top-of-the-line fleet and cancelled sixth-generation programs for nothing. In fact, they doubled-down on it in secret and put a media blackout on the stuff equal to the Manhattan Project back in the second world war. It only had slightly less blacksites committed to it than the Alpha Generation of Sanctioned.

They returned to the fore with nuclear-powered, flying aircraft carriers. Massive flying wings that could be spotted by radar and hit with ease by any steely-eyed missile man working any SAM site built since the 50’s. The massive platforms were functionally terrible for nation vs. nation conflict, but that wasn’t what they were meant for.

They were meant to give platforms and support fire to the American’s own flying Sanctioned.

Now, the battle reclaim the skies was a bloody one, but after their showing in the ground and the sea, it wasn’t up for debate who’d win. More than a few of the massive, flying wings were brought down and a lot of Sanctioned died, but the Americans brought the might of industry and numbers to the fore. A few tyrants of the skies popped up, but when it came down to it, their days were numbered and the costs to put them down already accounted for in the budget.

The Americans had a fat wallet, so they were more than happy to bring everything back to the ledgers.

Nowadays, most of the flying wings were being phased out. Low-Earth-Orbit battle stations were in. Flight-capable Sanctioned are great as low-cost, reusable power to get stuff into orbit and America had the numbers to do it. A lot of good folks were clamoring about America putting mass drivers in orbit, along with drop pods and point defense lasers, but there wasn’t really anyone around that could make them do things differently.

China and India were fractured to hell and back. Their massive populations basically meaning they had tons of Unsanctioned when things kicked off. Couple that with all the discontent, the racial tension, and all their regional issues popping off at once, that meant that the world was lucky that nukes didn’t go off over in Asia. The Russians also found themselves surrounded by more than a few angry neighbors that had living WMDs on their hands, so they were sucker-punched until internal power struggles messed them right up. Now barely anyone knew what was going on there now.

Meanwhile, most of Europe was rebuilding cities and most countries could barely run their own Sanctioned program, while trying to make things more sane and less fucked. International oversight, only adults, and strict guidelines, which the US Sanctioned program didn’t have. A lot of that program was riding on me doing a good job and making the Americans ease off the gas pedal towards shackling the entire world. It was my job to get things lined up nicely, do everything right without any moral relativism being needed, and show the Americans that they could ease off their plans and that the world was fine without guillotines hanging over everyone’s heads.

Right.

My whole job was to help a whole country that’s gone berserk after nearly getting crippled and killed by guiding one of their living, breathing WMDs.

A living, breathing WMD that’s just called for reinforcements and the one sent in was his teacher… a guy who lost all his friends in this region and was part of the initial bloodbath that ravaged the whole state.

A stiff upper lip wasn’t going to do me any favors, was it?

…

“Investigator Alhambra, is everything okay?”

No, I just took a moment to have a mental crisis.

“Hah, don’t worry, I’m just taking in the sights. You don’t see a glider everyday over where I come from.” Hopefully, I wouldn’t see anymore after this one. Two Sanctioned were bad enough. The fact that one was traumatized and rushed over to care for his students after a single call was worse. A third one would have me throwing a fit and ruining any hope of a non-dystopian future powered by a traumatized hyperpower/hegemon. “Let’s go ahead and meet with your teacher, yeah?”

“Yes, Investigator Alhambra. Please follow me.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

The kid had a little pep in his step with that little comment. I’d be enthused by my success too, if not for the fact that he turned a whole building and the people we were after into a cube of meat and metal. There was little to do besides keep a smile on my face, while I followed him onto the strip of interstate that I was here to make sure was rebuilt, but for now was being used as a runway.

If I recalled correctly, the interstates were built more than a century ago to help the US out of the Great Depression. Or, maybe, it was built after they won the second world war. I didn’t properly recall, but the mission now was to rebuild it all across the continent and tie the whole thing back together. Lots of small towns and cities had been isolated in the inland areas. Anything not on the coasts or the rivers were largely considered lost, and most of the people in those places weren’t at all pleased with the new plan, and they were the ones who tolerated the Federal government.

As for those that didn’t want any part of the reclamation, well, Sanctioned, tanks, and aerial supremacy made most forms or resistance worthless. Even if they could blend into the populace, or into underground networks, there were enough scanners in the US’s Sanctioned corps to put an end to things definitively and the government wasn’t interested in having problems in areas they’ve cleared, especially if those towns can potentially spawn some series firepower out of coincidence.

Hopefully, there wouldn’t any be anymore towns ‘cleared’ after I succeed, but I wasn’t going to count my chickens before they hatched.

“Investigator Alhambra, I’ve received a friendly signal from the glider ahead.”

“Send a friendly signal back and an all-clear. Oh, and the callout is ‘Thunder.’”

“Understood.”

We stopped and waited after transmitting, before a gruff and tired voice called out from behind a rusted chassis off the side of the road. While we’d kept our eyes on the glider, our ally had gone for concealment and cover.

Smart.

Or, maybe, paranoid.

“Clap.”

“Confirmation, please proceed Investigator Alhambra.”

“Thanks, kid.” I nodded and took the opportunity to approach the other Sanctioned suddenly sent my way. This one was my age, being part of the Alpha Generation. The only ones before him were the Nulls, or Zeroth Generation, and they were sparse. Anyway, as usual, the Sanctioned was covered in head to toe by a smooth body-glove and atop that was layers of armor and various useful gear. What made him different from my erstwhile ward was that he had a long coat over it all and he didn’t have his face entirely obscured. The nose and below was covered by a rebreather/chemical warfare mask, but above that were some actual human eyes and some shaggy hair. Well, somewhat human eyes. They reminded me of a shark’s blank, dead, and predatory all the same. “You’re the kid’s teacher, right?”

I thought that I’d get a bunch of designations and a bunch of robotic babble, but the older Sanctioned caught me off guard.

“Henry, no last name, investigator.” I suppose a few years of warfare and bloodshed knocked people out of the robot phase right into the stone-cold soldier phase. It was almost enough to make me sigh in relief. Soldiers, I knew that I could work with just fine. “Field Operative, why is the town still standing? It harbored enemy combatants and offered no assistance.”

“Sir, strategic decisions are left to Investigator Alhambra’s judgement. Outside of combat, my mission to protect and safeguard the investigator.”

“Good answer.” Henry nodded and the kid eased up, but I felt a chill go down my spine when the older Sanctioned’s eyes bore down on me. Technically, we were the same height, but it sure as hell felt like I was being glared down at. Years of smiling away at the loudest teeth gnashers back at the office let me keep a calm, placid smile on my face even with the living WMD glaring at me. “Investigator, you have been given extensive resources to complete your assignment as easily as possible. Why not use it?”

Why not carpet bomb a whole town, pave over their corpses, and put in an automated military outpost that’ll fire on anything that moves or looks at the automated road layers?

Yeah, I was definitely talking to an American.

“I’m here to try out my people’s methods of getting things done. If you’re worried about resources being unused, go ahead and tell them to shift them over to where they’re needed.” My throat felt like I’d swallowed a bunch of needles and that someone was closing their fist around it. Still, there was nothing to do besides smile, explain, and hope that I didn’t meet an unfortunate accident on my first day on the job. “The plan’s to stabilize the region, but I’m aiming for better than that. I want this place ready to prosper and be a new hub for the interstate. Gotta dream big, if you’re in my line of work!”

“The standard protocol is standard for a reason. These people are not to be trusted. Even with sub-par equipment from supply drops, they can pose a substantial threat.” Henry grunted, but his glare turned to his vehicle. He walked over to it and began to tend to it with his gloved hands. By tending to it, of course, I meant that he reached under it and took hold of the specific section on the glider that could support its entire weight, and picked it up with one hand. No wonder he was the sole survivor, he was one of the most terrifying Sanctioned. All the strength he could want and the toughness to endure it, meaning that I was looking at a juggernaut. “It is better to station ourselves outside of their territory. There is a nearby, former outpost.”

I was ready to agree, but my ward spoke up.

“Agent Henry, are you attempting to overrule Investigator Alhambra’s command?” The tension those words caused was heavy enough to nearly make me swallow my command. There was a light wind gathering around the younger Sanctioned’s hands. It dredged up the cube of meat and metal I’d seen just a few hours ago. “That is insubordination. Insubordination by a Sanctioned operative is punished with exe—

I managed to find my tongue, despite it trying desperately to end my misery by choking me to death.

“I’m sure that it was just a suggestion. Look, he hasn’t even moved to go anywhere. All he did was pick up his vehicle.” I did my best to reason with the kid and it miraculously worked. If the older Sanctioned had actually stepped towards his destination, I’m sure that I’d be pulped in the battle. “Besides, it’s a good suggestion. We’re better off not living with the locals while we’re here, just in case. The old outpost will also be a better place to start building up and making an operating base.”

“I see. Thank you for helping me understand, Investigator Alhambra.”
That was one down, but what about the other?

“Good. Both of you get into the glider. I’ll carry you both there.”

The glider was plopped down before the two of us and soon enough we were being carted away.

Never a dull moment over here.

…

The outpost was in the middle of the forest and was a concrete bunker hidden amongst trees. I recognized it immediately as one of the infamous bolt holes that Americans dropped in. Since they didn’t need heavy construction equipment to move loads of soil and being topside was dangerous, Sanctioned strike forces established themselves in regions by digging up loads of ground and burying prefabricated structures underneath.

It was a technique copied by anyone capable of fielding the necessary amount of power in the field. Cheap, easy to hide, and a few feet of soil were always nice to have between you and any sort of firepower. I’d been in a few myself, and having a hidden and tough shelter in the middle of a conflict zone was appreciable.

However, this one wasn’t one of the newer ones that I’d been in.

It was practically just a concrete covered container box and inside was some insulation and some bed racks attached to the wall. No secured lavatory, no electricity, and no sign of a place to sit around a table. The scarcity of the place really hit home. The Americans rarely cut corners and only when they had to.

Anyway, I took the hint that Henry’d been sending my way since we entered.

“Sanctioned, go make sure the perimeter is clear and bury the glider after taking the supplies inside.”

“Understood, Inspector.”

The kid moved and left through the hatch on the top of the shelter.

I waited for a second, then I spoke after I realized my head was still between my shoulders.

“So, did I pass the test?”

“There is no test. Only you risking my student’s life by entertaining foolishness.” Yeah, that’s about what I expected. In my mind, I was trying to make the world a better place where it’d be less likely that people get smashed into a million pieces by suborbital battlestations that deliver child soldiers all over the world. In the American’s mind, I was being an idiot that was trying to do stupid shite when I had firepower on my side. “He is one of the strongest Sanctioned in history. I will not have you risk his future.”

That ultimatum had me halfway expecting my head to be taken off my shoulders, and for Henry to accept being killed by his student so the kid’ll just get sent back home… or finish the mission by rolling over the whole region.

But, once again, the American proved better than I expected and just stared at me.

Right.

The small-town filled with hate and barely-constrained violence had me worried, but it seemed some Americans could be reasoned with.

That… I could totally work with.

Time to put all the hostage negotiation training I’d gone through to work.

The hostages being morality, a return to civility, and the skies being unfilled with WMDs ready to strike anywhere at anytime.

The hostage-takers being the United States after losing almost an entire generation, having their children and soldiers slaughtered on live television for years, and basically committing themselves to bloodshed and destruction until remade the world how they wanted through violence.

Easy enough.