NOVPUB"How can those curse gadgets just up and vanish? This is Base Wulfric, not your local mart where you can just waltz in and shoplift curse gadgets. God damn it!" General Kerrigan shouted in frustration after learning what had transpired in the hacked section of the base.
"..."
Major Bennett and the others stood with their heads lowered, unsure of what to say. They couldn't figure out how someone could steal vehicle-type curse gadgets. There was only one entry and exit point, which was heavily guarded and under constant surveillance with barely a fraction-of-a-millisecond gap in coverage.
Teleportation-type curse tools were useless, thanks to the curse array surrounding the base. As for storage-type curse tools, someone would have had to carry them in and out physically—yet no one suspicious had been identified. It was as if the vehicle-type curse gadgets had simply vanished into thin air.
"Don't just stand there with your heads down—get moving! Check the other sectors on every floor," Kerrigan barked, ordering the soldiers to stop wasting time and thoroughly sweep the entire base. "And pray we don't find another sector we've lost access to."
"Yes, Sir General," the group of senior officers responded in unison before scrambling to their feet to make arrangements to inspect the floors they were responsible for, ensuring there weren't any more surprises.
After everyone left, Bennett approached Kerrigan and said, "Sir, you can't blame the soldiers. They followed the base system's assignments without question—just like they were trained to."
"Who the fuck is responsible for managing the base's system?" Kerrigan snapped, looking for someone to blame and punish for the mess.
"Our IT department manages it. But they don't have administrative access. If it weren't for your presence and override key, we'd be in an even bigger mess—" Bennett began, trying to explain in detail to prevent the wrong people from being held accountable.
"So the IT team is to blame?" Kerrigan cut in sharply. 𝔫𝖔𝖛𝖕𝔲𝔟.𝔠𝖔𝖒
"No, sir. The opposite. They only maintain the system when problems arise. As I said, they don't have access to the core system—just the command box where they inst—"
"Who the fuck is responsible for this mess?" Kerrigan interrupted again, his patience wearing thin.
He didn't want explanations—he wanted names. People to scream at. People to blame for what had become the most humiliating incident of his overachieving and spotless career.
He couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd explain this to the president in the upcoming incident report briefing. A breach of this scale couldn't be covered up. The stolen curse gadgets represented one of the country's most valuable military and technological advantages.
He knew he'd likely be forced into retirement over this—but before that happened, he intended to make damn sure those responsible for allowing it would pay dearly.
"Sir, that would be the senior curse scientists who were transferred after the project D3 debacle. They now work for Base Wulfric on a need basis. They only come in when our IT team encounters a problem they can't solve. They haven't inspected the base's system in the past decade," Major Bennett said, cutting to the point and directing Kerrigan where to point his finger.
To Bennett's surprise, the raging Kerrigan instantly calmed down and screamed, "Fuck my life!"
"..." Bennett glanced at Kerrigan, completely confused. A second ago, it felt like heads were going to roll, and now it seemed like Kerrigan just learned one of his parent had died. In his confusion, he asked, "Sir, is everything alright?"
"No. My past—age is catching up to me," Kerrigan muttered, not offering any further explanation as he headed to the UTV, signaling the driver to take them back to Nastrond.
Bennett hurriedly got into the UTV as well, and Kerrigan turned to ask, "Were any of those senior curse scientists contacted?"
"Yes, they all have a busy schedule with other bases to run. Still, they agreed to respond on short notice. One of them will be here in 30 minutes. The rest will arrive by tomorrow morning," Bennett answered. He had started to believe they wouldn't be able to access the abandoned depot sector without the scientists' help. Turns out he had seriously underestimated their IT team, which was why he'd tried so hard to keep the IT team out of Kerrigan's line of fire. However, that no longer seemed necessary, now that the general had calmed down.
"Tell them the situation is under control and that they should resume whatever plans they had," Kerrigan ordered grumpily.
Almost a decade ago, he had been the one to assure the president that he could manage Base Wulfric without the original batch of Senior Curse Scientists. Those scientists had attempted a mass resignation to pressure the government into halting manhunt of Project D3 and granting her full citizenship, so she could live out the rest of her life peacefully in the country she helped build and secure.
With this latest incident, Kerrigan knew that being forced into retirement would probably be the best possible outcome. But if the Senior Curse Scientists still held a grudge about how he had them reassigned to other bases while relentlessly pursuing their dear colleague and friend, he might have more to worry about than just retirement.
"Forget it. Make sure they get everything they need to conduct a thorough inspection of the base's systems. If they decide the entire system needs an overhaul, let them proceed. I'll figure out how to fund it," General Kerrigan said, refusing to let his ego cloud his judgment. He was beyond frustrated and needed an outlet. For the first time, the UTV felt painfully slow. He couldn't wait to reach Nastrond and unleash all his anger and helplessness on the Overlords' descendant.
"Yes, Sir!" Bennett responded. He'd known Kerrigan long enough to understand that, while the General had a tendency toward extremism, he was not the kind of man to abuse his power. In fact, those very traits had saved the country's neck and a ton of money more than once. No one makes the right call every time—besides, Kerrigan was a general, not a saint.
