Chapter #74: Vapors Beneath the Ice
Silence closed in around them once more after the fight. Only the distant creaking of ice settling into the cave walls could be heard, along with the slow drip of warm water forming where the worms' heat had faded. Miles stood still, his pulse still racing, when he sensed something different: the unexpected closeness of General Olivier Armstrong.
She stepped nearer than usual.
Miles took a step back in surprise when he felt the General's hand rest on his arm. It was not a gesture of command, nor a military correction. It was… different.
"General?" he asked, tense. "What… what are you doing?"
Olivier was breathing more deeply. Her severe expression—the same one that terrified hardened soldiers—seemed disturbed by something unseen. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, and her eyes, always cold, shone with an unusual intensity.
"Easy, Miles," she said in a lower voice than normal. "This… isn't exactly what it looks like."
Miles frowned.
"If this is a test, I don't think this is an appropriate way to evaluate me," he replied firmly, though his heart was pounding.
The General let out a short, dry laugh—almost nervous.
"The frost worms," she explained. "They release vapors, pheromones, or something like that. They mainly affect hormones. Especially in women."
She ran a hand over her forehead, as if trying to clear her head.
"The last time I fought one… I went months without a period and in an unbearable mood. I didn't know what effect it would have this time."
Miles stared at her, confused.
"And that justifies… this?"
Olivier met his gaze directly.
"It justifies the fact that I'm not thinking with complete clarity," she admitted. "But I also know one thing: I'm here with someone who has proven his loyalty. Who serves Briggs. Who serves me. You, Miles."
Before he could react, the General began to unbutton her military jacket. The motion wasn't provocative, but practical—almost automatic—as if she needed to free herself from an invisible weight.
Miles stepped back.
"General… I don't know what to say. This isn't right."
She set the jacket aside, revealing the fitted black shirt and the strong arms she always hid beneath layers of uniform. There was an obvious contradiction in her: delicacy and power, vulnerability and authority.
"I'm more comfortable like this," she said. "It's cold down here."
Miles struggled to keep his composure.
"I don't approve of this behavior," he said seriously. "You are my superior."
Olivier's response was immediate. She pulled his jacket off in one swift motion—not violently, but with clumsy urgency.
"Then behave like a soldier who understands his commander," she replied. "Just… stay."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The warm vapor, the exhaustion of battle, the tension that had built up—everything seemed to mingle in the air.
Olivier leaned in and kissed him.
Miles froze for a second, then—without fully understanding why—responded. It wasn't a long or desperate kiss, but a brief one, heavy with confusion and restrained emotion.
They sank down onto the frozen ground beside the case holding their flares. In the midst of awkward movement, Olivier's attempt to regain control, and Miles' disorientation, the unthinkable happened.
A red flash lit up the cave.
"Damn it!" the General exclaimed.
A flare had gone off.
From above, the signal was unmistakable. Minutes later came voices, footsteps, the sound of equipment descending through the tunnel.
Reality struck Olivier like a bucket of ice water.
"Miles!" she snapped, pulling away at once.
She rose with military speed, put her jacket back on, and reclaimed her imposing posture in seconds. She was the Ice Queen again.
Miles, red to the tips of his ears, stood up clumsily.
"This… this never happened," Olivier said coldly. "Understood?"
Miles swallowed and nodded.
"Of course, General. Whatever you say."
The soldiers arrived shortly after. They saw the General standing firm, issuing clear orders, and Miles at her side—serious, professional. No one said anything. No one asked.
Mining began that very day.
Entire shifts passed digging, securing tunnels, extracting material. Miles chose to stay in the mine, helping the workers directly—perhaps to keep his mind occupied, perhaps to put distance between himself and what had happened.
From the surface, Olivier commanded the base with her usual efficiency. She showed no sign of weakness and never mentioned the incident again.
Deep down, Miles knew the truth.
He liked General Olivier Armstrong—her indomitable character, her imposing presence, her strength. For a moment, he had thought that maybe… just maybe… there could be a possibility.
But he also understood something fundamental.
Olivier Armstrong was not a woman who sought companionship. She needed no one at her side. Her only true loyalty was to Briggs and to the soldiers who depended on her.
And that, paradoxically, only increased the respect—and admiration—that Miles felt for her.
And so, amid the sound of pickaxes and the echo of newly opened tunnels, the base of Briggs continued to advance.
Cold. Relentless. Unbreakable.
Like its General.
(end of chapter )