'The warrior wins in warfare.'
Lailah Gifty Akita, Pearls of Wisdom: Great mind
"However, " Robert's gaze bore into him, unwavering in its intensity. "For your journey to Washington DC, discretion is paramount. You'll need attire that blends seamlessly, allowing you to navigate without drawing undue attention."
Michael was on the brink of voicing his curiosity when Robert preemptively addressed his unspoken question. "No need to unveil your origin from the future to all and sundry."
"Thank you, Major, " Michael acknowledged with resolute appreciation.
"Furthermore, considering the perilous landscape of your time, I can provide you with a contingent of soldiers who possess knowledge of the route. The terrain may have evolved, and land traversal is treacherous amidst the ongoing barrage. Your safest course is by sea, but upon landing, maintaining inconspicuousness is essential."
"I do have an alternative proposition, " Michael interjected, unveiling his calculated strategy to deceive the enemy.
"Speak your mind."
"Given the circumstances, I assume Confederate uniforms are inaccessible."
"Correct, soldier."
"Very well, I suggest that, accompanied by your men, under your authority, we engage and neutralize Confederate forces, securing their uniforms. Your team can don their attire, while designating me as a captive."
Robert mulled over the proposal; his response measured. "In such a scenario, should the Confederates inquire about your destination, how shall you respond?"
Michael's mind raced, and he promptly concocted a misleading answer. "We're on a covert mission to eliminate the President of the United States." It was a calculated misdirection, meant to confound any potential interrogators.
Robert nodded with agreement. "Agreed. Anything to facilitate your passage to Washington DC." With determination, he rose from his seat.
"Wait, Major."
Robert paused, his attention locked onto Michael's. "Yes?"
"I will also need funds."
Robert's affirmation was swift. "Consider it done. I will instruct my captains to select three of our finest soldiers, and I'll make arrangements for the Confederate uniforms. Await me in my office."
With Robert's exit, Michael was left to reflect on their pivotal exchange. Instinctively, he reached for the gun holstered at his side, seamlessly concealing it once more. The weapon settled securely onto his armor's belt, a quiet assurance of his readiness to face the trials that lay ahead.
******
After a considerable interval, a pristine dark blue Union Army uniform was discreetly delivered to Michael. He adorned the ceremonial dress with precision, ensuring it concealed his advanced armor beneath. These lands were steeped in hostility, and his very complexion could be a death sentence. Yet, before he met such a grim fate, he knew he had to heed the Major's warnings.
In due course, Robert introduced three men: Tim Holt, Nick McLaughlin, and David Dunn. "These men shall accompany you to Washington DC, " Robert stated with authority. "Should any soldiers challenge your path, asserting you must dismount, you shall inform them that you are on a vital mission authorized by me, and your destination is Washington D.C."
Surveying the trio, Michael noted their rugged visages and the curious gazes they cast his way. He was well aware that their escorting of a lone black man would stir intrigue along their journey.
"Thank you, Major, " Michael saluted Robert crisply, their mutual respect evident.
The Major returned the salute with equal gravitas.
As Michael turned to leave, the creak of the door was halted by Robert's voice. "Soldier!"
Michael pivoted, his attention fixed on Robert's gaze. "Will this expedition seal my fate?" the Major inquired with a hint of uncertainty.
A wry smile danced on Michael's lips. "Certainly not. Yet, I'll be attuned to my instincts tomorrow." With a nod of acknowledgment, he strode out of the office.
As they neared the imposing fort's gate, Michael's three companions lingered within while he confidently marched forward. In a swift maneuver, his hand conjured a rocket launcher, its lethal form aimed toward the shoreline. With a decisive action, he unleashed a rocket, its trajectory piercing the air until it met its mark.
Boom.
The sandy shore erupted, engulfed in a chaotic tempest. Michael fired again, and then again, the concussive impacts sowing disarray within the Confederate ranks.
The onslaught from the fort momentarily subsided, a tacit signal for Michael and his comrades to hasten toward the waiting boat. In synchronized rhythm, they embarked, their paddles slicing through the water's surface.
The fort's cannons rekindled their furious assault.
Out on the tranquil expanse of the sea, the fort gradually dwindled on the horizon, shrinking to a mere speck before finally vanishing into the tapestry of the past.
Amid the serene waters, the team sat in hushed stillness, the only sounds the gentle lap of waves against the boat's hull. The vessel swayed rhythmically, maintaining their equilibrium in the vast expanse that lay before them.