by Sara King
Too late, he remembered the lifeless lump of flesh on the ground beside her feet. He bit his lip as she merely shook her head.
“She can only talk on the headcom,” Maggie said.
“I’ll help you pay for surgery,” Joe said. “As soon as we get out of here.”
“Me, too!” Maggie said.
“And me,” Scott said.
“How much will it cost?” Monk asked.
“Does it matter?!” Maggie cried.
“Yes,” Monk retorted.
As they were arguing, Joe peeled off his sweat-soaked layers of purple robes and threw them into a soggy pile in the corner of the room. Briefly, he wondered if somewhere in his gear the Congies had given him a lighter. The robes, just like everything else about the Takki, deserved to burn.
“Does anyone know where I can get some matches?” Joe asked.
It was then that Joe realized that the barracks had fallen into a deathly silence. When he turned, everyone was staring at his scars with mixed looks of horror and pity. Joe swallowed and quickly shrugged into a black Congie shirt. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“The Dhasha did that?” Maggie whispered.
“Nah, it was Takki,” Joe managed. “Knaaren couldn’t touch us without killing us, so he had his lizards do it for him.”
“Didn’t they give you nanos?” Monk demanded.
Joe grimaced wryly. “Knaaren doesn’t like the way nanos taste.”
Scott was the first one to speak. “We’ll make sure you don’t go back.”
Joe felt embarrassed and grateful at the same time. He just nodded.
“You look like a tiger danced on your back,” Maggie said.
“With its claws out,” Monk added. “Tigers have retractable claws.”
“Shut up, Monk, they do not.”
“Do too!”
Libby elbowed Scott, who cleared his throat.
“Joe, things got real bad while you were gone. Tril put Sasha back in charge. Knaaren’s acting really weird—he ate another Ooreiki a few days ago. That got all the Congies mad and the battlemasters are being ashers to everybody.”
“Tell him about the boys,” Monk said.
Scott stared at his feet, looking embarrassed. “At night, some of the boys from other battalions are getting together looking for girls. The youngest kids are acting really weird.” Scott let out his breath between his teeth. “It’s scary, Joe.”
“The drugs made their bodies too big and their brains too small,” Monk explained. “You saw Escobar. He’s five and a half and he just now realized he had a cock. They’re usually the ones running around at night, and if they catch you out there, you’re in trouble.”
Maggie nodded, looking genuinely frightened.
Joe was sad at how fast they were being forced to grow up. “Then nobody’s leaving the barracks after lights-out. Any idea who’s leading them?”
“Sure,” Monk said, then she went on to describe Bailey perfectly, right down to the cleft in his chin. Toward the end, Joe noticed that Libby was watching Monk with a slight frown.
“I’ll deal with it,” Joe said. “Until then, get some sleep.” He led the way toward the huge, circular bed.
Libby caught his arm as he moved toward the bed. Joe looked up—disconcerted by the fact that they were almost eye-to-eye. Libby hugged him. When she pulled back, her gaze promised they would talk later. Then, ignorant to his sudden, rock-hard boner, she slid into bed with the others.
When Joe turned toward the bathing chamber, Maggie called out, “I thought you were going to bed, Joe!”
“I need a bath,” Joe said, which was the truth. He spent the next twenty seconds jacking off in the relative privacy behind the door. He couldn’t actually shut the door because Battlemaster Nebil had promised horrible consequences to anyone who got caught inside with it closed. Then he spent a good half an hour getting clean, rubbing the accumulated grime from his skin until the alcohol burned and his eyes were watering.
When he finally returned, his skin was red and stinging and he smelled like a medical sterilizing pad, but at least he felt clean. As he approached the groundteam’s bed, he saw that everyone was already asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief and stripped off his shirt.
“Nice,” a voice said behind him.
Joe flinched and turned. Sasha sat on one end of her groundteam’s bed, holding something silver in her hands. She was grinning at him, her smile full of contempt.
“Congratulations on getting battlemaster again,” Joe said stiffly.
“Couldn’t have done it without you.” She held up the lesson pad that Nebil had given him.
Instantly, Joe felt a flash of rage, realizing why he hadn’t been able to find it. “You took it?”
“It’s mine now.” She tucked it under a leg. “I’m battlemaster. I’m the one who needs it.”
Joe took several steps toward her. He meant to quietly tell her what he thought of her so he wouldn’t wake the rest of the recruits, but Sasha immediately reached for something hidden between the folds of her blanket. Joe froze, watching her.
Sasha gave pause, hand on whatever it was between her blankets. When he did not move any closer, she gave another nasty grin and pulled out the knife Congress had issued her. “Afraid I’ll add another scar to that pretty collection of yours, Zero?”
“That’s what you were gonna do, wasn’t it?” Joe stayed back, wary. “Why are you sleeping with that thing? Nebil’s got the door locked. Second can’t get in here.”
Sasha snorted. “It’s not them I’m worried about. It’s the ones already in here.”
“You mean Sixth?” Joe was baffled. “Nobody’s gonna—”
“Mario did,” Sasha spat. “He grabbed Katie out of her bed and raped her in the showers while everyone else was asleep.”
Joe felt a reflexive rise in his gorge. “It won’t happen while I’m here.”
Sasha’s smile was malicious. “I saw how hard you got when Libby hugged you. Does she know you want to screw her brains out? Maybe I should tell her.”
Joe’s face darkened. “I’d never do that.” Bitch. “Ever.”
Sasha gave a careless shrug. “Maybe. But you can’t control your cock and I’m gonna get you neutered.”
She’s just a child, Joe thought. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. He turned his back on her.
“I could plant this blade right between your shoulder-blades,” Sasha said. “Right in your spine. Not even the Congies could help you, then.”
“You do that,” Joe said, walking back to his own bed. “Commander Tril would probably give you a medal.” Without another word, he crawled in under the blankets with his groundmates, as far from Sasha as he could get.
Sleep came slowly. His body was still on constant, Takki-inspired alert. After Tril’s exhibition on the plaza, it took him hours to wind down, hours of staring at the ceiling and jerking at the slightest noise around him.
Most of the noises came from Elf. Even in sleep, his groundmate’s scarred brow pinched in a frown. His body twitched continuously and small, tiny sounds escaped his lips.
He was with Knaaren a lot longer than I was, Joe realized, feeling a stab of pity for his friend. But he won’t go back. He’s got his whole life to heal.
#
As the next few weeks went by, Joe gradually eased back into the life of a recruit. He even found himself opening his mouth to give his platoon a command, only to shut it again when he realized Sasha was back in charge. He felt at a loss, marching in formation after he had led it from outside. Watching Sasha give bad commands was even worse. The hunts especially. Sure, she sometimes came up with new and interesting ways to baffle the enemy, but only because someone whispered it into her ear. And usually that came from Libby or Joe, both of whom were on Sasha’s permanent shit-list and had to run their ideas through Maggie or Scott before Sasha would take them seriously.
Joe, frustrated, usually did something that Sasha could punish
him for, so he spent all of his free time at work with chores Sasha had assigned him.
It was the same this afternoon. When the rest of the platoon was enjoying a half-day from a successful inspection with Lord Knaaren, Sasha had ordered Joe and Libby to rearrange the barracks until they were spotless, every item in its place, every fold crisp, every blanket perfectly aligned. Libby was at work near Sasha’s locker and Joe was on the other side of the room, neatening a group of rifles, when Libby made a strangled sound and held up a deep den flag.
Joe frowned at her, his first thought that, should an Ooreiki come in and see it, they would be accused of trying to cheat in the hunts. Then, when he drew closer, he realized it belonged to Second Battalion. He hadn’t seen a flag like that since losing one in the tunnels.
“Where did you get that?” Joe asked.
Libby’s face was a thunderstorm as she pointed to Sasha’s locker.
“Where’d she get it?” Joe asked. “We haven’t had our hands on a flag since—” A tiny frown came over his face as he moved forward to inspect the flag. The little tear it had undertaken from Sasha and Maggie tugging on it was still visible in the fabric, along with a thick coating of tunnel dust.
Libby nodded at his look, her lips compressed in fury.
“Now wait a minute,” Joe said, taking the flag from Libby and holding it up. “We don’t know how she got this.”
Yes we do. She stole it. Just like she stole my reader.
Apparently, Libby thought the same thing, because she threw down her cleaning rag and stormed out of the room. Joe hesitated, staring down at the material in his hands.
Everything would have been different if she hadn’t taken it. Hot rage began to make his intestines burn. What kind of person would steal something that would mean a reward for everyone if they had kept it safe? Something that would actually get an entire platoon into trouble if they didn’t have it?
A psychopath bitch, that’s who. Joe’s fingers fisted in the flag and he went to find Libby before she killed her.
That night, as the platoon was getting together for storytime, Joe and his groundteam approached Sasha’s bed and tossed the flag down in front of her.
“How could you be so burning stupid?”
Sasha’s eyes lit up with anger. “You can’t call your battlemaster stupid.”
“You’re not my battlemaster.”
Sasha drew her knife and held it between them.
In one effortless motion, Libby disarmed her and threw her to the floor, twisting the knife backwards by the blade like she was about to throw it.
“Libby, no!” Joe shouted.
Libby made a disgusted snort and slung the knife across the room. Sasha was crying on the floor, holding her wrist. No one moved to help her.
“No one’s gonna help you ever again, you bitch,” Monk said.
And it was true.
Everyone in the platoon watched coldly as Sasha picked herself up, her expression changing from fear to anger. Thankfully, she didn’t waste her breath trying to make them all do pushups. She simply gave them an acerbic glare and returned to her groundteam.
Joe watched her hobble away. She’s never going to have anyone’s respect after this, Joe thought. Her groundteam, upon Sasha’s return, turned away and found other places to sleep, leaving her utterly alone.
Joe tore his eyes from the lonely figure on the bed. Not that she ever did.
#
The next day, Battlemaster Nebil took them through a bout of training that left everyone gasping for air, hacking up chunks of red ferlii spores that had lodged in their lungs. Their next offensive against Second Battalion was tomorrow, and Commander Tril had ordered his battlemasters to step up their training to prepare. It felt ludicrous to Joe, since it only left them weak and tired when the actual hunt dawned, but he dared not risk Tril’s wrath a second time by mentioning it.
After Nebil had dismissed them, Sasha gave the groundteams tasks to finish before they could return to the chow hall for the evening meal. Joe’s groundteam bore the responsibility of wiping down the entire barracks room before they could go to eat. While the others began cleaning around the beds, Joe began wiping down the bathing chamber. It was the most unpleasant part, since the alcohol fumes were suffocating and the air made his eyes burn.
Sasha’s voice from the entrance surprised him. “Be sure you get that corner behind the door. All sorts of…” she hesitated, looking at his crotch, “…disgusting stuff winds up back there.”
Joe clenched the rag in a fist, eyes glued to the knife in her hand. The familiar rush of adrenaline began etching his veins.
Seeing his nervousness, Sasha grinned at him. “I sent the rest of them to chow. So we could talk.”
Joe had a pretty good idea what her idea of ‘talk’ was going to entail, and he surreptitiously began wrapping the rag around his fist, in case he needed to grab the knife.
Sasha stopped two yards away from him, but didn’t get any closer. “Did it feel good to tell everybody about the flag, Zero?”
Joe waited. Even with a knife he doubted she could overpower him. Still, he wanted to avoid getting stabbed if he could help it. Getting stabbed hurt.
“You think you’re so great,” Sasha said. “Bigger than me, stronger than me…you took battlemaster from me and then you thought it was funny watching me do all those pushups. Well, I’m the battlemaster now. Start doing pushups.”
Joe eyed the knife. “No.”
Sasha gripped the weapon more tightly, looking both angry and exhilarated that he had not obeyed her. “You have to. I’m your battlemaster.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You did too. You disobeyed me today in front of Battlemaster Nebil.”
“And I’m paying the price for that right now.” Joe turned his back to her and went back to cleaning the walls.
“I’ll tell the battlemaster you wouldn’t do pushups,” she said lamely.
Joe sighed deeply. “I might if I didn’t think you’d try and stab me as soon as I got on the floor.” Her flinch made him realize that she had planned to do just that. He grimaced. “Just go find someone else to screw with, all right, Sasha? I’m too tired for your gutless furgsoot right now.” Joe went back to cleaning the walls.
For a long time, Sasha said nothing. Then, “You’re such an asher.”
“Yup.” He was not even listening.
“I gave you back your knife and asked for your help, but I was just a girl and you were a big, bad, fourteen-year-old boy who could kick anybody’s butt on the ship. I thought we were gonna starve ‘cause I only had one boy in my team and you didn’t care.”
Joe flushed and turned back to her. “If I’d thought you were in trouble, I would’ve helped.”
“But not just if I ask, right?” Sasha demanded, eyes glittering. “You’re gonna wait until you can be the hero. That’s what you think you are. A hero.”
Joe felt himself clench the rag. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He tugged up the front of his shirt to show her his scars. “Would a hero have these? Would he have let a Dhasha take him as a slave, Sasha? No. A hero would’ve fought them. He would’ve died before picking dead skin from under that monster’s scales. Sasha, if I wanted to be a hero, I wouldn’t have spent two weeks looking at the floor and hoping they didn’t kill me.”
Sasha’s eyes flickered across the puckered scars crisscrossing his chest, then looked away.
Joe dropped his shirt. “Bad things are happening to all of us. I didn’t deserve to go to Knaaren and you didn’t deserve to be ignored when you were most scared. But believe me, stealing from people and threatening them with knives isn’t gonna solve things.”
Sasha would not meet his eyes.
“I’m here if you need a friend,” Joe said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Her head came up suddenly, eyes bright. She almost looked…hopeful. And desperate. She opened her mouth, and for a split second, Joe thought she’d say yes
. Then her face darkened. “Just stay away from me,” Sasha said. “Or I’ll cut off your burning dick like you deserve.” She spun and left him alone again.
Watching her go, Joe felt something tugging on his soul.
He was almost done by the time his groundteam found him. Joe felt a swelling of gratitude as every one of them grabbed a rag to help him. When they were finished, Maggie brought Joe his helmet. Joe stared at it, uncomprehending.
“So we can talk,” Maggie insisted, pointing at Libby. The others had already put theirs on.
“Oh…” Joe took a moment to fasten the straps over his ears, then cleared his throat. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.” Joe recognized Libby’s voice and turned to her, startled. She was smiling, but her lips weren’t moving.
“Nebil got her one that reads her mind,” Maggie said, obviously in awe. “Isn’t that cool, Joe?”
Joe felt another stab of gratitude to his battlemaster. “So these things are accepting all frequencies, now?” he asked tentatively.
“Yeah,” Scott replied. “After the first couple of hunts, they activated all ground leaders’ helmets, then a couple of hunts after that, they did everybody’s. It’s a lot better when everybody can tell everybody else what’s going on.”
“Gets frustrating, though,” Libby said. “Not everyone knows when to shut up. The frequency gets pretty blocked up with stupid soot. Sometimes you just wanna strangle some of them.”
Joe felt himself smile. “So are you guys looking forward to the hunt tomorrow?”
“Tril’s gonna blow up again,” Libby replied, grimacing. “He always does.”
“He gave sixty recruits the Fourth Degree last time,” Maggie said. “They accidentally let a squad from Second Battalion sneak into the deep den they were guarding. If it wasn’t for Libby, we would’ve lost our flag, but he punished her, too.”
“He did?” Joe glanced at Libby. “And you saved the flag?”
Libby shrugged, but Joe saw the anger in her face. “Saw group go down hole near edge of clearing. Didn’t hear for time, so figured they moving in on den. Took groundteam, went to closest one, hid in far tunnel. Showed up minutes later, deep den. Kept pinned. Reinforcements arrived.”