When Barlow walked out of the command post, the sun was already high in the sky, and the heat of the desert rose from the white sand beneath his feet.
Workers at the temporary dock were moving supplies that had just been unloaded from the ship into the inner side of the pier. Wooden crates were stacked in two rows on the pier and covered with reflective white cloth.
Several Guard Corps were wiping their knives under a sunshade outside the checkpoint; the knife oil gleamed in the sun.
"Second brother, is it just the three of us?" Roy caught up, the scabbard of his sword tapping rhythmically against his side.
"I can pick a few good Guard Corps to come with us. There are a few new recruits who have all achieved excellent results in desert terrain adaptation training. They'll be useful."
Barlow didn't stop. He walked around a pile of unsorted supply boxes at the end of the pier and headed towards the equipment shed on the other side of the prefab housing area.
"The main force hasn't arrived yet. The third Guard Corps won't be able to dock until tomorrow evening at the earliest. Until then, the only defense force at the dock is the few dozen men under Rosa's command and the patrol team left behind."
"Rebel scouts could reach this place at any moment. If they discover this dock, we must have enough troops to defend it."
He glanced at Roy sideways. "You took your best men with you. What will Rosa use to defend herself if the rebels sneak over?"
Roy opened his mouth, but couldn't find a way to refute it.
Barlow's "what if" was not a hypothetical situation to him; the fact that the rebels could take Rainbase within a few days showed that Charles's tactical command ability far exceeded that of ordinary rebels.
A commander capable of Inazuma tactics would not overlook unusual ship activity near the mouth of the Sandora River.
"And anything can happen along the way."
Barlow lifted the sunshade of the equipment shed, revealing rows of neatly stacked desert marching gear: camel-colored sun-protective cloaks, double-layered water bladders, windproof goggles, and thickened bandages for leg wraps.
Several locked metal cabinets stood in the corner, with labels on the doors. "For Guard Corps Use Only - Do Not Open Without Permission."
"It's inconvenient with more people. Three people can take back roads, find shelter in villages, and bypass large rebel forces. A team of ten won't be so easy to hide. We've brought Den Den Mushi, so we can remotely command them after we get to the palace. Rosa will temporarily take over command here, Koldo will be in charge of logistics in Water 7. It's not like there's no one in charge."
Roy switched the sword in his hand to the other and nodded.
The "inconveniences" of Barlow encompass many things: it's inconvenient to hide, inconvenient to resupply, and inconvenient to find a large enough campsite in the desert.
Behind every "inconvenience" was a list of tactical guidelines he had personally written during the expansion of the patrol team, and he stopped arguing about it.
Mila was already standing in front of the folding table in the equipment shed.
She had somehow obtained a topographical map of Alabasta from Rosa; the paper had been folded so many times that the creases were frayed.
She spread the map out on the table, held a piece of charcoal pencil in her right hand, and drew a line from the Rainbase area to the northwest with her left index finger.
"Several key cities controlled by the rebels are off-limits; the shortest straight route requires crossing the outer perimeter of the Rainbase defenses."
She drew several circles on the map with her charcoal pencil.
"Avoid it, head west, follow the old trade route across the edge of the desert, then turn north into the hilly area. There are several towns and villages along the way where you can stop and rest."
Mila circled a few spots. "These are all small places with no strategic value. The rebels won't station heavy troops there, so we can use them to gather intelligence."
Barlow stood opposite her, looking down at the arc on the map.
The straight-line distance from the dock to Alubarna isn't too far, but he only glanced at the curve once before looking up.
"OK."
Mila folded the map and stuffed it into the inner pocket of her cloak. She turned and walked to the iron cabinet in the corner of the equipment shed. She took out a key from her waist and opened the cabinet door. Inside were weapons and communication equipment specially prepared by the Guard Corps for the desert terrain.
She took out three small Den Den Den Mushi) and handed them to Barlow and Roy respectively. She then fastened her own phone into the special leather case on the back of her belt and counted out enough emergency rations and spare lighting shells for the three of them.
Rosa stood outside the equipment shed, a hardcover folder in her hand.
She didn't come in; she just leaned against the door frame, watching the three siblings put on their desert cloaks, hang water pouches around their waists, and tighten their leg wraps.
Her expression was exactly the same as when she was in meetings: a calm smile, focused eyes, and she didn't speak but was always waiting for orders.
"The dock is now yours."
Barlow fastened the drawstring at the collar of his cloak and walked up to Rosa. He had completely changed his attire, wearing a desert cloak, goggles pushed up to his forehead, and a water bladder slung across his waist, looking like a trader who had been traveling the desert trade routes for years.
"Rebel scouts could appear in the lagoon area at any time. Double the number of observation posts outside the outposts, and have the lookout towers on 24-hour shifts. The Third Company must report to me immediately upon arrival. I will then decide whether you should launch a preemptive strike based on the situation. Also..."
He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Rosa.
"This is the draft of the official letter to the Nefertari Royal Family. If something happens to us on the way, give this to Koldo and let him decide what to do next."
Rosa took the letter, but didn't open it; she simply tucked it into a hardcover folder.
She looked up at Barlow and nodded. "Understood."
On the other side of the equipment shed, staff led in three horses.
The horses of Alabasta and the horses of the East Blue are not the same breed at all.
It stands about 1.6 meters tall at the shoulder, and its legs are shorter but thicker than those of ordinary military horses. Its hooves are large and flat, features that evolved specifically for walking on sand.
Its fur is sandy yellow, with short, stiff mane, and the muscle lines on its neck are faintly visible beneath the short fur.
The horse was already equipped with a desert saddle, and its saddlebags were stuffed with a tent, a first-aid kit, and extra water bladders.
A small bag of salt blocks was hanging from the horse's bit, used to supplement the horse's salt intake.
Roy walked over and patted the horse's neck. The horse's ears snapped back, then it lowered its head and sniffed his palm.
"This horse is good. Much better than those discarded naval horses."
"Alabasta horses have twice the endurance of ordinary military horses, can walk dozens of kilometers a day, and only drink water once."
The staff member leading the horses handed the reins to Roy, his tone carrying a hint of pride typical of horse breeders, "These three were just picked out from the horse market last month; they haven't been named yet."
Mila's movement of mounting the horse was seamless; she stepped on the stirrup with her left foot, straddled the horse's back with her right leg, and dismounted without the horse moving an inch.
She wrapped the reins around her wrist, the hem of her desert cloak draped over the sides of the saddle, and her goggles were pulled down to cover her eyes.
Roy's mounting was three times louder than hers; the saddle creaked as he stepped on it, and the horse lurched forward two steps before regaining its footing.
He patted the horse's neck apologetically, but the horse flicked its tail and ignored him.
Barlow was the last to mount his horse. He adjusted the position of the Den Den Mushi at his waist, made sure the Fountain Pen was still in his pocket, and then stepped onto the stirrups.
Three horses filed out and slowly climbed up the sand slope on the north side.