Dragon Team Seven

by Toby Neighbors

  “Wait here, Nichols,” Gomez ordered.

  The sergeant took Ember into the testing room and then stepped back out. He led Nick to the TTS room where he was put into a unit that laid out a series of different scenarios and Nick was tasked with explaining what he would do. An hour after he had been called from the lecture room, his day was finished. He went back to the barracks and sat on his bunk. After completing the intake training, he was anxious to find out what was next. Time seemed to drag on. When Ember finally arrived, she looked drained.

  “How’d you do?” he asked her.

  “Who knows,” she said. “I think I did okay.”

  They talked about the questioning and were relieved to discover that it seemed they would all receive the same test.

  “What division do you want to be in?” Ember asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nick said honestly. “Logistics sounds safest.”

  “And the most boring,” Ember said.

  “True, but we can handle boring, I think.”

  “You do? I’m not so sure.”

  “What’s your first choice?”

  She looked at him with a smile. It was the same look she gave whenever she had an idea that might get them all into trouble.

  “I wouldn’t mind the Dragons,” she said.

  “Really?” Nick asked in complete surprise.

  “Why not? If we’re going to be Space Marines, we might as well be the best.”

  “You are full of surprises.”

  “Why is that? Would it surprise you if Ty wanted to be a Dragon? Or Kal?”

  Nick realized he was being a little chauvinistic. The truth was, he wanted to be in the Dragons too, but had thought it a little too selfish a choice. He had expected his friends to want to play things safe, especially Ember and Jules.

  “No,” Nick admitted. “I guess I just thought since joining the PMC was my idea that you would all be more interested in getting out safely.”

  “Don’t get me wrong—I want to survive, preferably with all my limbs intact. But I don’t want to just suffer through the five years we’re enlisted for. I want to make a difference and have some fun along the way.”

  “Me too,” Nick said.

  Soon Kal joined them. He was less enthused about his performance with the testing aliens.

  “They threw me off my game,” he complained. “How am I supposed to concentrate with three of the eggheads staring at me like I’m prime rib or something?”

  “What about the simulation test?” Nick asked.

  “Aced that part,” Kal boasted. “It was easy.”

  Nick envied his friend’s confidence. They tried to relax, lounging on the bunks while they waited for Jules and Ty to finish. Two other recruits returned to the barracks before Jules finally arrived.

  “Shouldn’t be much longer,” she said. “Ty was the last one called up.”

  “Good,” Kal said. “Now that the test is over, I’m starving.”

  “You’re always hungry,” Ember said.

  “Think the food on a Proxy ship will be as good as it is here?” Nick asked.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Kal demanded. “They can’t start giving us processed protein bars—not after spoiling us with real food all week.”

  “I imagine they can give us whatever they want,” Jules said. She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it depends on what they carry on board their ships.”

  “Think we’ll be on a trade ship?” Ember wondered.

  “That or a space station,” Nick said. “The one thing they haven’t mentioned since we began training was the Peregrinantes’ home world.”

  “Maybe they don’t have one,” Kal said. “Maybe they used up all its resources and now they just travel through the galaxy in their trade ships.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Nick said. “Sergeant Gomez said we’d be shipped out. Doesn’t sound like anyone will be staying behind, no matter what they decide to do with us.”

  When Kal finally arrived, they all headed down to the mess hall. Lunch was spicy lamb kabobs with rice, a creamy sauce, and a dressed salad with nuts and dried fruit. After eating they hovered at their table, sipping tea or punch as they anxiously awaited their results. Sergeant Gomez finally appeared with cards in his hand.

  “Nichols!” he said, calling Nick to him and giving Nick a card. “Gracie!”

  Nick glanced at the card and saw several choices listed. He went back to their shared table and sat down before studying the card. When he looked, he saw that he had four options. He had qualified for infantry, medical, logistics, and recon.

  “Look over your options,” Gomez said. “The Corps must be desperate because you all qualified for multiple divisions. Circle your preference and return your card to me, and then I’ll give you instructions. That is all.”

  Nick let his friends study their cards before speaking up.

  “Man, I only got two choices,” Kal said.

  “I got three,” Jules said.

  “Me too,” Ty added.

  “I qualified for all six divisions,” Ember said excitedly.

  “Well, at least none of us will be alone,” Nick said. “What’d you qualify for, Kal?”

  “Infantry and recon.”

  “Dragons, baby! Me too!” Ty said.

  “I got recon,” Jules said. “But also mechanized and infantry.”

  “Looks like infantry and recon are our only options if we want to stay together,” Nick said.

  “I choose recon,” Ember said. “That was my first choice, anyway.”

  “Mine too,” Jules said. “It sounds like the most fun.”

  “You guys realize we’re talking about dangerous situations, right?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah man, but who wants to sit around and wait to be sent in after the shit has hit the fan? We can be the best of the best,” Kal argued.

  “I’m in,” Ty agreed. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna tinker with engines or shuffle papers for five years.”

  Nick was torn between the excitement of being in the elite recon division and the safety of logistics. Nothing about their future was certain, and maybe every division had its dangers—Nick really didn’t know. But the idea of being assigned to duty on a space station like the Exchange had a certain appeal. Just outside the PMC facility was the most spacious and advanced city he’d ever seen. Joining the recon division would mean giving up the possibility of serving his five years, and maybe even longer, on stations that were lavish and safe.

  “You guys are sure about this?” Nick asked.

  “You scared, Nicky?” Ty asked.

  “You bet I am,” Nick said.

  “Hey, this whole thing was your idea,” Kal complained.

  “Yeah, but I figured we could keep our heads down and ride out the five years,” Nick said. “I never thought you’d all volunteer to be on the front lines.”

  “Recon isn’t all about fighting,” Ember said. “It’s intelligence gathering, rescue, and evasion.”

  “Don’t forget infiltration and disruption,” Nick said.

  “Yeah, but it isn’t direct attack,” Ember said. “It’s about being smart and working together as a team.”

  “When has anyone ever gotten ahead by keeping their head down?” Jules asked.

  Nick swallowed the lump in his throat. He agreed with his friends, but at the same time he felt responsible. Not just because he loved them all like family, but because joining the PMC was his idea. He didn’t want to live with the guilt of one of his friends getting hurt or dying because they listened to him.

  “Hey, man,” Kal said. “Stop worrying about us. We made the decision to join the PMC because we knew life in the ULU was untenable. If we had stayed, someone would have gotten hurt.”

  “Yeah, the Syndicate was after us, remember?” Kal said.

  “And if they didn’t hurt us, we would have hurt them,” Jules said. “And gotten in even more trouble.”

  “Recon may not be the safest division,” Ember said.
“But we’ll all be together, and that’s what we wanted.”

  “It’s a chance to do something with our lives,” Kal said. “Our teachers were wrong about us.”

  “Everyone was wrong about us,” Jules said.

  “We’ll be the best spec. op team in the Corps,” Ty declared.

  Nick felt his worries evaporate. He wasn’t afraid for himself, and if his friends were certain, then he would be, too. Recon was the best of the best—an opportunity to stand out and be recognized.

  “Let’s do it,” Nick said.

  “Oh yeah,” Kal said.

  “This is amazing,” Ember said.

  They circled the recon division on their qualification cards. When they approached Sergeant Gomez, he smirked.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “Recon?”

  “You know it,” Ty declared.

  “You’re all a bunch of imbeciles,” Gomez said. “But it’s not surprising.”

  “Why’s that?” Nick asked.

  “Because you’re young. You think you can do anything.”

  “Can’t we?” Jules asked with a smile.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Gomez said. “Recon training station is in the Quandrella system. There’s a ship headed that way in eighteen hours. Till then, you’ve got liberty on the Exchange. I’ll see that your first month’s pay is deposited in your account. Might as well use it while you can.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Nick said.

  “You’re in the Corps now, recruits. Act like it.”

  They all saluted, and he returned the gesture. Then they hurried from the mess hall, anxious to explore the Exchange before leaving the solar system for good.

  Chapter 15

  Nick and his friends were taken to the admin offices, where they were each given a set of identification tags, wrist-worn data-links, and the official breakdown of their pay structure as recruits. They each earned twenty-four thousand credits a month—a significant increase over their pay at the ULU—and there were no deductions. As members of the PMC they were exempt from Earth-based taxes and paid Peregrinantes trade credits, which were good not just in the Space Exchange but in all the worlds, ships, and space stations on the Peregrinantes Trade Route.

  “Go to the PBX and set up your accounts,” the woman in the admin office told them. “They’ll link automatically to your pay distribution from the PMC.”

  “What’s the PBX?” Kal asked.

  “The Peregrinantes Bank Exchange,” the woman explained.

  “Oh, great,” Nick said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “And good luck.”

  “Do you ever get the feeling that all these people know something we don’t?” Jules asked.

  “What do you mean?” Ember asked.

  “Haven’t you noticed that everyone wishes us good luck?” Jules said.

  “Yeah, come to think of it,” Kal agreed.

  “Maybe they’re just being nice because they know they won’t see us again,” Nick suggested.

  “Or maybe they know we’re about to get tossed into a meat grinder,” Kal responded. “I should have known things were too good to be true.”

  “You worry too much, dude,” Ty said.

  “I have to worry,” Kal insisted, “because you don’t worry at all.”

  They stepped out of the intake center for the first time in seven days. Nick hadn’t realized how easy it was for his world to shrink down and to adjust to the small, self-contained system that was the intake center. Getting through the rigorous training had occupied all of his mental energy, and he had forgotten about the wonder of the space station they were on.

  “Man, this place is amazing,” Nick said.

  “We have sixteen hours until we have to log into the PMC system for our official orders,” Ember said. “What should we do first?”

  “The bank,” Ember said looking at her data-link. “It’s this way.”

  Nick hadn’t given the data-link on his wrist much thought. He knew that wealthy people on Earth wore similar devices. Most everything from currency to entertainment was digital and could be accessed through devices, but the cost was more than he had ever been able to afford. He looked down at the cuff that encircled his wrist. It was light, flexible, and powered by the heat conductivity of his skin, which meant he would never need to remove it. A digital display came on as he lifted his arm; it showed the current time as 14:31 hours as well as a countdown to the time they were required to report in.

  They went past a row of towering buildings. Most had no signage, and all, it seemed, were Proxy owned. The aliens had a large investment in the Exchange. They sold technology to humans and recruited hundreds every year for the PMC. Gold, platinum, diamonds, and pure elements were the only other exports from Earth and the solar system. Man had become a race of rock collectors, which was convenient since most mining was done on Mars and the asteroid belt. Many of the mining companies were based on Mars and did business on the Exchange, not Earth.

  The PBX was a round building made of glass and transpara-steel. It looked from the outside like an upside-down icicle, glimmering and beautiful. The base was larger than the top, as the building tapered upward. Nick could see multiple levels inside the towering structure, but the ground floor was open. They walked into the massive lobby and were greeted by an AI hologram.

  “Welcome to the Peregrinantes Banking Exchange. How may I be of service?”

  “We’re here to start our accounts,” Ember said.

  “Excellent,” the hologram said. “Please follow me.”

  Nick had no idea where the projection was coming from or how it managed to move like an actual person across the bank lobby’s marble floor. They were led to a row of booths with interactive computer consoles inside.

  “If you have questions,” the hologram told them. “Just ask. I am here to serve.”

  They went into the booths where names, fingerprints, retinal scans, voice recordings, and their DNA were loaded into the computer system. Nick knew Earth depended on computers, and humanity’s technology had benefited greatly from the Peregrinantes. But much like the interstellar drive engines on their spaceships, the Proxy had computing systems that were far superior to the fastest supercomputers on Earth. His account officially opened and linked to his bank on Earth and to the data-link cuff on his wrist. He set up a savings account and deposited half of his monthly income into savings, leaving instructions for his pay to be evenly divided each month. He would keep half of his pay for spending and save the rest. Nick also designated each of his friends as the beneficiary in the case of his death.

  Once their banking was done, they set out with a little over ten thousand credits to spend. The money wouldn’t go far, and they had no way of carrying keepsakes with them, so the money was spent on experiences. They bought tickets to ride to the top of the tallest building, which had an observation deck on the top floor. They could see through the bubble out into space. It was an awesome sight.

  “Who knew there were so many stars?” Kal said in wonder.

  “Makes me feel small,” Jules said.

  “Yeah,” Ty agreed. “I keep thinking about the sim where we were lost in space. Just spinning around, out of control. I thought that was scary, but can you imagine it for real?”

  “We won’t have to,” Ember said. “Orbital recon will be part of Dragons training.”

  Nick felt a shiver of fear; the other sims hadn’t frightened him like that one had. He could run toward danger and fire exotic weapons, but the thought of being lost in space still terrified him.

  “Okay,” Nick said. “I’m guessing we’ll see plenty of outer space. I need something to eat.”

  “Yeah, baby,” Kal said. “Now you’re talking.”

  “Think they’ll sell us drinks?” Jules asked.

  “We aren’t old enough,” Ember said.

  “We aren’t old enough on Earth,” Jules replied. “I’m betting the Proxy don’t have the same age restrictions.�
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  “Let’s find out,” Ty said.

  After some exploring, they discovered a section of the Exchange filled with bars, restaurants, holo-theaters, fantasy simulation rooms, and souvenir shops. Their first stop was at a tavern that catered to PMC personnel. The bartender was a big, friendly man with a thick mustache.

  “Welcome,” he said as they came in. “New recruits, eh? Let me guess, you’ve got less than a day before you ship out.”

  “That’s right,” Kal said.

  “Well then, have a seat,” the bartender said. “I’ll get you all a drink. We’ve got all the beverages you’re used to from Earth, but we also carry a selection of libations from the PTR.”

  “Like what?” Ty asked.

  “Good question,” the bartender said. “Let me give you a few pointers. First, the Proxy have their own drinks. They mostly ingest high-protein liquids. The standard is a fermented milk beverage called Trangan. The eggheads can’t get enough. You can make it with any kind of milk, although they prefer it made from a creature called a Gooskeck. Never seen one myself, but the drink isn’t half bad. It sorta tastes like a protein shake mixed with booze. It isn’t too strong for humans, but it’s very filling.”

  He was busy filling a large frosty mug with a thick, grayish liquid as he talked and set it on the bar in front of them when he finished.

  “Go ahead, take a drink,” he urged them.

  Nick picked up the heavy glass and took a sip. It was thick and reminded him of spiked eggnog. Kal took a drink next and grinned.

  “I can dig it,” he said.

  “Next up is a specialty from the Porg system called Dream Elixer,” the bartender explained, pouring a purple liquid into a tall, narrow glass. “It’s a sweet drink, not as potent as Trangan.”

  “Why’s it called Dream Elixer?” Ember asked.

  “Because it’s been known to cause drinkers to have strange, exotic dreams,” the bartender went on as he set the glass on the bar. “Legend has it, the sweet concoction was created to lure wandering souls back home.”

  Jules took a sip, then handed the glass to Ember. “Tastes like candy.”