046. Duty Above All Else

Jalu’s breath hitched, his mind struggling to integrate the flood of new information. The weight of his shattered worldview pressed heavily upon him. With a dark expression, he finally voiced the question that had tormented him.
“That man,” he spat, his voice laced with bitterness, “left the Regime to torture my mother to death. Is that part of his so-called plan too?”
Erwin’s face tightened in sympathy. “Just like you and everyone else, I have many questions about that tragic event,” he replied. “I tried reaching Mr. Adiwira earlier, but his phone was out of range. The ISB informed me he’s currently investigating a case in Russia. Fortunately, Binsar and Rini managed to salvage and reassemble parts of Division 96’s old communication device. It might not be perfect, but it’s functional enough to contact any task force we need.”
The bespectacled man stood, his movements deliberate, as he approached a corner where a large object lay hidden beneath batik sheets. He paused before uncovering it, casting a glance back at the room, meeting the eyes of every person gathered.
“Mr. Adiwira instructed me to gather all of you,” Erwin began, his voice clear and firm, “to reassemble. He wants Division 96 to be reborn, built from our hands—the junior members who still lack experience.” His words carried an unmistakable weight, reverberating through the room.
He gestured toward the concealed object, continuing, “With the resources Mr. Adiwira and our late leaders fought for, we are not only equipped to supply our operations, but we will also receive our basic salaries—proof of how deeply our seniors care for us."
Liriénka observed the flickering flames of determination in the tearful eyes around her, but her gaze lingered on Jalu. His face was a canvas of torment, etched with lines of profound regret. The raw, churning emotions behind his eyes spoke of an internal war—a brutal clash of anger, remorse, and an ache so deep it seemed to pull him apart from within. She felt a pang of pity for him, though the source of his suffering remained a mystery.
The weight of his wealth clung to Jalu like a shackle. He had more than enough to cover the wages of every remaining Division 96 member, could even fund the organization's rebirth—but he’d chosen silence. While his father and the others clawed at the ruins of what once stood proud, Jalu had shut himself off, anger clouding his judgment, blinding him to their struggle.
Erwin’s words had cut through him with a sharpness he hadn’t anticipated, peeling away the numbness he had wrapped himself in. Now, that familiar sense of control was gone, leaving him raw and exposed. Guilt gnawed at him, and for the first time, he saw himself clearly: small, insignificant, like a frog trapped at the bottom of a well, staring up at a world he had ignored for too long.
"And this is it!" Erwin declared, his voice brimming with anticipation. "The day Mr. Adiwira, our leader, marks the rebirth of Division 96!" With a deliberate motion, he pulled back the batik sheets, revealing the device beneath. "Tomorrow, we hope he, along with all the remaining senior staff and analysts of Division 96, can finally return to our homeland."
Binsar quickly joined the bespectacled man, setting up a crude equipment resembling an oversized audio mixer, tangled in cables, antennas, and a monitor. The bespectacled woman, Rini, stepped in beside them, and together the three busily worked, flipping switches and connecting wires until the monitor flickered to life with distorted lines, like a malfunctioning TV.
"*Savargha*," Erwin muttered, leaning close to the microphone on the device.
Sekar swiftly pulled a laptop from her backpack and started typing away on the control panel. "Binsar, connect this," she called, tossing him a small device. Without missing a beat, he plugged it in. Within moments, Sekar's laptop was wired into the seemingly still-unstable communication prototype, ready to run.
"Someone’s hijacked your communication channel, Andrei!" Bayu's voice crackled through the static, the noise distorting his words, though the urgency was unmistakable.
"It’s us, Sir!" Erwin responded in Russian, his voice brimming with excitement. "Your children are gathered!"
A brief silence followed before Bayu’s voice returned, this time speaking in the Eldest Tongue, his tone grave. "Is the circle perfectly closed?"
Relief washed over the faces around Liriénka, their once-tense expressions softening. Eyes that had been hardened by despair now shimmered with quiet longing. Just hearing the leader's voice seemed to ignite a spark of hope—one bright enough to guide them through the darkness.
"Perfectly closed! The circle is perfectly closed!" Erwin exclaimed, his eyes glistening with a mixture of hope and longing for their leader and mentor.
"Contact the ISB or the OCK. I’ve left a voice recording for all of you," Bayu instructed.
Erwin’s smile vanished immediately, and puzzled glances were exchanged among the group. "What do you mean, Sir?" Erwin asked, voicing the confusion shared by everyone.
"I’m currently in Karabash, deep underground," Bayu revealed. "As a precaution, should my mission fail, I’ve recorded final instructions to ensure our task force can rise again."
“You must return, Father!” Jalu pleaded, stepping toward the microphone. Erwin, recognizing the gravity of the moment, respectfully moved aside. The tremor in Jalu's voice conveyed a deep, painful yearning, palpable even to those unaware of the fraught relationship between the man and his father. “There’s so much I need to tell you—and so much you need to explain to me!”
A tense silence and a persistent hum filled the space before Bayu’s voice cut through, firm and unyielding. “I’ve also left a recording for you,” he said. “So, stop speaking like a child begging his father! We have greater responsibilities. Do you understand?”
The room fell silent once more, save for the persistent hum of the makeshift communication device. Jalu’s face reflected the struggle within, his expression hardened as if he had swallowed something bitter. The furrows in his brow revealed the intense emotions he was fighting to contain.
"Yes, Sir!" he responded firmly, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic rasp.
"I'm glad you made the right decision to—" Bayu’s voice abruptly cut off, the transmission fluctuating briefly before dissolving into the monotonous drone of the speaker.
"Sir?" Jalu leaned closer to the device, his hands hovering uncertainly over the tangled mess of cables and levers. "Father?"