Fires of Man

by Dan Levinson

  “Or what?” asked Merry. “Gonna beat me up, widdle Straggler? I’m shaking.”

  “I’ll make sure Sergeant Douglass hears about this. He’ll have you peeling potatoes for a month.”

  Merry turned red. “Who do you think you are?” he demanded. “You’re nothing. Get the hell out of my way.”

  “No,” Finn said, “you’re the one who needs to go.” Power welled up in him, electric, magnificent. He kept it tightly reined. Inside, he was a white-hot ball of agitation, but he stood straight and tall.

  He was balancing on a blade’s edge.

  On one side was the urge to flee, to hide, to declare himself worthless; on the other was the desire to lay waste to Merry and all his laughing copies, burn them to cinders, hammer their bones to dust with his fists. Instead Finn said nothing, did nothing. He waited. He was in complete control.

  Merry shot an uneasy look back at his compatriots, searching for support. No one stepped forward to back him up. Merry returned his gaze to Finn and sneered. “This isn’t over, Straggler. Not by a long shot.”

  “Yes, it is,” Finn said. “It’s over.”

  Merry opened his mouth to retort and he melted. Everything melted. The whole scene dissolved and faded into nothingness.

  For a moment, Finn floated in nothingness.

  “There,” said Joachim’s voice. “Serenity.”

  Finn opened his eyes. He was back in the training room, Joachim seated in front of him.

  “Access your power,” Joachim said.

  Despite all he had experienced, a touch of fear remained in Finn. He ignored it. Even if he failed, he would not be upset with himself, because it would accomplish nothing. He reached for that atomic furnace, that inner power. He felt it suffuse him. It saturated every cell, making his body feel vigorous, vital, invincible.

  “I did it,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” Joachim said. “Congratulations.” For some reason he looked very sad.

  “Thank you,” Finn said. He held on to the power coursing through him.

  He had never felt more alive!

  “Let it go,” Joachim snapped.

  Finn gave a start. His connection to his power vanished. “I don’t understand,” Finn said.

  Joachim shook his head. “It is risky for a novice to hold on to such energy without using it. Remember that.”

  Finn gulped. Anxiety rocked him, then further anxiety about the anxiety—that it would prevent him from finding his power again. No! he told himself firmly. His power was not what gave him value. With or without it, he would not be afraid. He searched, and found the energy there waiting for him.

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow you will be with Lily all day. She will oversee your instruction in psionics in addition to physical training.”

  “Not you?”

  A grimace passed over Joachim’s face, but it was gone so quickly that Finn wondered if he imagined it. “I must attend to other matters,” Joachim said. “Now, you are dismissed. Go eat. Rest. I expect tomorrow will be a long day for you.”

  Moments later Finn stepped out into the hall and began mulling things over. What “matters” had Joachim been referring to? Was the man supposed to go kill someone?

  The reason for Joachim’s sad expression at Finn’s success became clear: Joachim knew Finn would be turned into an agent for SO, trained to apprehend and slay other psions.

  All of Finn’s elation instantly evaporated.

  He walked the white-washed halls, brooding. He stopped at the mess for a bite to eat, but the food was tasteless. Had he already lost his innocence when he’d pulverized Merry’s cheek, or would that come only when he was forced to take a human life? At least, when he’d imagined himself in combat, it had always felt impersonal—enemies in droves without faces, hardly men at all. Finn knew that wasn’t so, but the prospect of having to face down a lone psion and look him in the eye before killing him felt so much worse.

  No, he resolved, I won’t do it. I’ll apprehend but I won’t kill. Not ever.

  That made him feel a little better.

  The next day he met Lily bright and early, ready for what was to come. They went through warmups: laps, jumping jacks, sprints, sit-ups, pull-ups, and push-ups. Lily had begun to train Finn in hand-to-hand combat. While he was still not very good at it, at least now he thought he could throw a punch and actually hit something.

  During a brief respite, Finn asked her a question that had been bothering him since the day before.

  “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  Lily looked by turns shocked and amused. “Shit, kid, of course I have. What did you think? I look like a pacifist to you?”

  “I don’t know, I guess . . .” He hadn’t been expecting a different answer, not really. But he’d hoped for one.

  “Second thoughts?” she asked.

  “No,” Finn protested, too passionately to be convincing. “I just never thought it would really come to that. For me.”

  “There’s still time,” Lily said. “Different accommodations can be made.”

  “Like a jail cell,” Finn said.

  “Who knows?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Finn asked.

  She rubbed a thumb along her masculine jaw. “I don’t think you have the stomach for this work,” she said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But goddamn, kid, either you’re in this or you’re not. And if you’re not, you better speak the fuck up right now, or forever hold your peace.”

  “I want to learn how to capture,” Finn said. “Not kill.”

  Lily laughed in Finn’s face. It hit him like a sledgehammer.

  “Why is that funny?” Finn demanded. He had principles and he would stick by them, he decided. “I’m not going to kill anyone, and that’s that.”

  Without warning, Lily blurred across the room, grabbed Finn by the throat, and drove him up against the wall. “Would you kill to save your life?” she asked him. Before Finn could manage a word, she jabbed the index finger of her free hand beneath Finn’s sternum. “Too late, you’re dead.”

  “Wait,” Finn said.

  Lily yanked him forward and sent him sprawling onto his belly. He rolled over and there she was, looming over him. She planted a foot on his chest. “Dead again, Finn,” she said.

  “This isn’t fair,” Finn said.

  Lily grabbed Finn’s shirt and hauled him to his feet. “War isn’t fair. And life sure as hell isn’t fucking fair. Shit, I thought you’d figured that one out already.”

  “But—”

  “No, no more talking. No way you fucking belong here, kid. Joachim can decide what to do with you.” She brushed past him.

  Finn grabbed her arm. “You can’t just—”

  “I can do whatever I damn well please.” Lily spun, and before Finn could draw breath he was on his knees with his arm bent behind his back. “You don’t understand a goddamn thing,” she hissed. “Your arrogance is gonna get you killed.”

  She released him and stalked away.

  “I’m not arrogant,” he shouted after her.

  She stopped. “Not arrogant? Then try wiping that holier-than-thou bullshit expression off your face. You’re the most arrogant kid I’ve ever met. You think I wanted to kill anyone? Sometimes there’s no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice,” Finn said.

  “Only if you count ‘kill or be killed,’” she said.

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said. “So come back and say that shit to me after you’ve been in the field, kid.”

  True, he’d never been in a situation that would necessitate killing, but still . . . “I won’t do it,” he said. She ignored him and opened the door. “Hey, you’re supposed to train me!”

  “You aren’t worth my fucking time,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t want to be,” he retorted, but she was already gone. He sat down on the floor, feeling like a petulant child hurlin
g petty arguments at someone older and wiser. Was a promise not to kill really a promise he could keep? He was a psion; that couldn’t be changed. If he didn’t cooperate, he stood a good chance of being locked away simply because he was deemed too dangerous to run free.

  He’d told Lily there was always a choice, and he was right. His choices were to be imprisoned, or consent to committing murder. The thought that he might have cost Merry his eye was horrifying enough. Was he really willing to take away someone else’s life?

  Finn remained in the training chamber for hours. He worked his body while his mind turned endless loops. He wanted freedom. He wanted to see his parents again. He wanted to see Sonja. Was he still so weak that he would compromise his principles, commit to taking human life, just for that?

  Yet who would he help if he was locked away? The war would go on, psion would kill psion, all without him. What if Sonja got hurt? What if he could be there to save her, if only he was willing to . . . ?

  He shook his head. There was no use in thinking “what if?” But what could he do? Lily would not see, and he doubted Joachim would either. There was but one option left.

  He would lie.

  He would tell them he would kill for his country, tell them he would do what was necessary. He wished there was an alternative, but he could see no other way.

  He would lie and hope they believed him.

  Finn headed back to his quarters. He was hungry, but didn’t feel like eating. He made himself choke down a protein bar. Then, exhausted, he tried to sleep on his cot in his cramped dormitory-style room.

  Despite his fatigue, Finn spent most of the night tossing and turning, plagued by discomfiting dreams. After each one he would wake, the sheets clinging to his sweat-soaked body. He thanked God he didn’t remember most of them, because the ones he did remember were bad enough.

  The worst was one in which he envisioned himself as a full-fledged member of Special Operations. His latest assignment was to kill Sonja. He suddenly found himself at his family home, with its immaculate sod-covered lawn, the flowerbeds aligned and flourishing. He stood beneath the one towering oak tree with its well-pruned branches, staring at the crimson-colored front door framed by white-painted wood siding.

  The next moment, he was inside the house. Everyone was settled around the dining room table, his mother smiling and serving pot roast, his father telling dirty jokes. Judd was laughing. Finn’s oldest brother Garrett had his arm around Sonja. She noticed Finn then, and her eyes narrowed in pity and disdain.

  Finn could take no more.

  In his fury, he summoned up an inferno and mercilessly burned the house and everyone in it to a smoldering heap of ash. He heard screams and smelled charred flesh.

  Then he was outside again, only now the house was a smoking crater, and Joachim and Lily were there. Joachim congratulated Finn on a mission accomplished. Lily told him she was “so fucking proud” he’d finally done what was necessary.

  When Finn woke from that one, sleep was no longer an option. He wasn’t supposed to be out in the halls after hours, so instead he paced the small length of his room, worrying. When he grew sick of pacing, he lay atop his covers and stared at the ceiling.

  By 0500, Finn felt more fatigued than when he’d gone to bed. His limbs were leaden, his eyelids heavy, and he had a headache that made his scalp seem ten sizes too small for his skull.

  Why did he feel this way when he’d made his decision?

  Lily was nowhere to be found. It appeared he was on his own. Instead of exercising, he wandered the corridors, his mood bleak. It had all gone too far, too fast. When the military had come for him, he had never thought it would turn out like this.

  But moping wouldn’t do him any good.

  He found Lily in her office—a tiny room that was little bigger than a cubicle. When he entered, she was hunched over her desk with a sheaf of papers. As soon as she saw him, she put down her pen and said, “No training today.”

  “I’m ready to do . . . whatever I have to,” Finn said.

  “No shit?” She leaned forward in her seat. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

  “It’s true,” Finn said. This was what he had promised himself he would do . . .

  So why did it feel so terrible?

  “Say it, kid,” Lily said. “Say what you’ll do.”

  “If you want me to kill, I’ll kill.”

  Lily nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

  22

  KAY

  Things had been better since Jackie.

  It had taken her three days to call him, though from the start Kay was clear that they were friends, and nothing more. He’d accepted that without compunctions, and she found herself surprised he could be so carefree, so unlike Nyne.

  Over the ensuing weeks, they often grabbed lunch or dinner or drinks, watched movies in the posh apartment he was subletting, or simply sat in the park. Jackie never pushed or pried. In many ways, he was everything Nyne was not.

  When she said she could take care of herself, he actually believed her.

  They had a good deal in common, she found. He was also a fan of pulp novels, cop shows, and film noir thrillers. It had galled her when Nyne had actually wanted to attend sappy romantic comedies, but Jackie would have none of that. There were no expectations with him, either. Their relationship was what it was, and he didn’t try to change it. They flirted and sometimes cuddled on the couch, but Kay didn’t let it go beyond that, much as she sometimes wanted it to.

  Just knowing he was there made her feel more balanced, more together. There were many days when she was occupied with her duties, and he with his, but just the awareness that she could reach out to him was a comfort.

  She still thought about Nyne, though less and less with each day. After two weeks, he barely crossed her mind. She still dreamed about him, though. As for Tiberian she couldn’t help wondering about him. Putting him out of mind had proven impossible because Orion Intelligence was still worked up over his appearance in the desert.

  No one had found a trace of Tiberian, nor of Calchan forces mustering at the border. The information that trickled in from Intelligence was so sparse that they spent their days harassing her, as if some random fact from her childhood would unlock the mystery. Every few days, someone from OI would show up and ask questions, and it was all she could do not to scream.

  There was another significant change in Kay; she’d begun thinking about her future. Before, she had only been marking time, waiting for the day when the military would lead her back to her brother. Now that it had actually happened, after a fashion, she realized exactly how empty that goal had been. Even if Tiberian waltzed back into her life, it wouldn’t change much. Perhaps not anything at all.

  Jackie provided a good example for her. He had a career, a direction, a plan. It was admirable, and it made her reach the conclusion that she wanted the same thing for herself.

  A short while later she found herself in First Sergeant Dobbs’s office. Dobbs was the “first shirt”—the presiding enlisted officer—for the Grisham Special Mobile Company, the official name for the Sandbike Squads. The GSMC was smaller than a standard company, only fifty soldiers in total, and Dobbs knew every single one of them well.

  “Sergeant Barrett,” he said when she entered his small office. “What can I do you for?” He was scarecrow of a man with a brush of thick gray hair.

  “Regarding the enlisted-to-officer initiative . . . I’d like to submit myself for OCS,” she said. That she meant the Grisham branch of Officer Candidate School, where psion officers were trained, was implicit in the request.

  He gave her a glance, then moved his gaze to the ubiquitous paperwork that always appeared to haunt the higher ranks. She could get used to doing more paperwork. “You know, Sergeant, any other time I’d sign off on it. That’s the honest truth. But with this recent scare, I need you on duty. Can’t afford to lose you right now. There’s no one else I’d bring up to an E-6 to replace you, not with everyone on high al
ert.”

  “Sir, please, hear me out,” she said. She had anticipated his response. “I’m confident I can continue my regular duties and attend classes during downtime. I know the usual enrollment period is sixteen weeks, but instead I can do an extended course of study so it won’t impact my day-to-day.”

  “Pretty unorthodox,” Dobbs said.

  “I know, sir,” she said.

  “And you’re talking about shouldering a workload many would call excessive.” Dobbs rubbed a thumb along his jaw.

  “I can handle it, sir,” she said.

  “Now I don’t mean to imply you’re not up to the task, but I know recent events have you in something of a . . . sensitive state,” Dobbs said. “Isn’t that right, Sergeant?”

  She felt a flush of anger. She could not help thinking this would be a non-issue if she were a man. Still, a denial would get her nowhere, nor would a display of temper.

  “That’s right, sir,” she said evenly. “Which is exactly why I want this. Why I need it. It’s important for me to know there’s a real future for me here, in the Psi Corps.” She paused for a breath, to settle her nerves. “I want more, sir. I need more.” There. Now it was up to Dobbs.

  The first sergeant sighed. “I won’t lie and tell you I haven’t thought you’re a good candidate for a commission. But I need you to make me confident you can handle the pressure.”

  “I can, sir,” she said. “I promise.”

  “Promises are nice,” said Dobbs. “But an officer has to be counted on to do what’s right for his command, even if it means her own mother in enemy crosshairs. If you and your soldiers get set against your brother, can I count on you to take him out? I just don’t know. And I’m sure there’ll be others above my head wondering the same thing. You can bet they’ll come knocking on my door. You hear what I’m saying, Sergeant?”

  “I do, sir. I . . .” What could she say to that? Perhaps Dobbs was right; if the worst possible scenario came to pass, she might choke. Doubt gnawed at her. “Please, sir,” she said. “A chance, that’s all I ask.”

  He watched her a long while, meeting her eyes. “A chance,” he finally said.

  Joy welled up in her. “Thank you, sir,” she said, smiling, breathless. “I won’t let you down.”