by Choi, Bryan
“You had to bring it up, Draco!” Hadassah buried her face in her hands.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t told anything,” Taki said, shrugging helplessly. Sweat stung his eyes and his stomach turned. What sort of hidden taboo had he just brazenly exposed?
The door to their sweltering storeroom opened. Though the air it brought in was redolent of grease, it was at least somewhat cooler. A scullion stepped in to grab the potato bowl and replace it with an empty one, not bothering to acknowledge Taki and the others. It was enough of a reprieve that Draco could take in a breath and compose his thoughts.
“We had to tell him eventually, Dassa. Okay, Natalis, I’ll start from the beginning. You remember what happened to Berlin?”
“Sorry, what does Berlin have to do with anything?”
“Humor me.”
“Okay, Berlin. Didn’t their king torch it just ‘cause?”
“You’re oversimplifying it. What really happened was that a few years ago, the Sanctissimus Rex Ursalus looks over the maps and concludes that the Imperials will end up banging down the walls in less than a year. They’d already sacked Krakow and Gdansk a few months before, so the Capital was next up for a siege. But if there’s anything the Ursalans hate more than us, it’s the asiatic horde. So, the Rex orders half his godrotting army to the sole task of bringing every single tire in the land to the capital-”
“Wait, you mean those ancient dark orbs that spawn bloodsuckers?”
“Yes, those. Back before the Fall, everyone wore at least four tires on their person when leaving the home. Kind of like a codpiece, hat, and bodice all in one. Anyway, the Rex has his men pile all the tires up till every single city block was about a man’s height deep. Then he has it all set on fire.”
“That’s an odd choice for fuel.”
“No, tires burn forever. That’s why it’s called ‘The Great Tirefire of Berlin,’ because the most glorious city of the old world—the only place untouched by the mushroom clouds of the Fall—will still be a flaming rubber crematorium long after we’re all dead.”
“I thought the Ursalans called it ‘The Beacon of Triumphant Strength’ or something.”
“Well, they do, it’s just that everyone else calls it what it really is. Regardless, it turns out to be amazingly effective at stopping the enemy. The million-strong Liberation Army of the Osterbrand Imperium sees this gigantic smoke column in the sky and just stops. They’ve been laying around in Silesia cradling their manhoods ever since.”
“Why can’t they just...go around the thing?”
“Beats me. Maybe they have some kind of deep-seated fear of fire? Or maybe they felt like the Rex was too much of a mad dog to fight? After all, this is a guy who’ll turn the crown jewel of Queen Europa to molten rubber just to spite you.”
“Good point. So what does this have to do with us?”
“I’m about to get to that. You remember our basileus tried the same thing, right?”
“Yes, on Santorini.”
“Except we don’t have so many old tires lying around, so His Grace makes the legions find what they can and ferries them all to the island. They make a pile about twenty meters high or so and then light it on fire. It kills every fish in the sea for ten kilos and now the coast smells like burning hair.”
“‘The Triumphant Light of Argead Defiance.’”
“Also called ‘Tirefire the Lesser.’”
“Which is… Which is the name of this squad! I remember now. It was hidden in the papers that the Major had me sign. But isn’t that kind of blasphemous? Why is that even allowed?”
“Good, now you’re getting to the root of the problem. The basileus made his tire fire to show everyone how clever and strong he was—really had a lot of pride in the thing is what I’m told. But the Imperium just declared war on us the next week.”
“I thought they had a fear of burning rubber.”
“Maybe our fire wasn’t big enough? More likely, we’re just a small buffer state in between them and the Ursalans. Knock us aside, cross the Alps, and you’re in Versailles before you know it. Bottom line is, our squad’s name is a direct affront to our liege. I don’t think His Grace really knows about it, because otherwise we’d all be swinging on the gallows by now. But our exarch sure as hell does. The punishment for insolence is a flogging, but since no one has the guts to whip that woman...” Draco’s expression grew dark at the mention, “...we lowbies get the shaft instead.”
“So that’s why I’ve been doing nothing but peeling potatoes every day since I got here?”
“You’ve been peeling less than a week. We’ve been doing this for the last year.”
“The last year? When will this end?”
Draco arched an elegantly-manicured blonde eyebrow at his junior corporal, as if unsure whether to be derisive or sympathetic.
“Natalis, this won’t end. As long as our name is ‘Tirefire the Lesser,’ we’re stuck in the kitchens peeling potatoes from dawn to dusk, forever. We won’t sally forth to battle, and we certainly won’t partake of the spoils. Our lot is to suffer. I’ve lost so much skin off my fingers doing this crap that everyone in the Cloud Temple is now a cannibal, and I’m seriously thinking about ending it all.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to open a wound or anything,” Taki said.
“You say ‘sorry’ an awful lot. Look, it’s fine, I said too much,” Draco said, waving dismissively. “Honestly, we’re a bit surprised you waited this long to just ask us why your life went to shit for no reason.”
Taki let out a laugh which he quickly stifled. The last thing he had wanted was to make the burly man-at-arms start spouting off about bloody endings again, or try to escape. “I guess I didn’t want to make waves,” he said with resignation.
“I get it. You’re not a complainer. No wonder you got shanghaied into our squad. Weren’t you one of the top initiates this year?”
“I wasn’t at the bottom.” But I might as well have been, he thought.
The academy had been a constant slew of fencing, shooting, sparring, and most onerously of all, hours submerged in lightless liquid meditation sucking air through a stingy tube. Most of his classmates were destined to end up dying in the mud of some horrid battlefield holding their guts in. Because of his talent, Taki had been pronounced as one of the rare students with an actual future. He was someone to keep far away from the front lines. With the luxury of hindsight, he now realized that turning down an offer to join the Praetorian Guard of the basileus had been foolish, but the woman—that woman—had made a very compelling argument at the time.
“The major sought you personally, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, she did. I couldn’t really refuse.” His fingers unconsciously brushed the side of his cheek where she had whispered honeyed promises into his ear, her actual words now forgotten and replaced by the gratification of her exotic brusqueness. He couldn’t help being easily hoodwinked by the first mature female to call him a pretty little thing and praise his skill. Especially not after she had scruffed him by the neck, dragged him into a closet, and swatted him until he signed the papers.
“Sorry to hear that. So anyway, now you know.”
Speech gave way to the chalky grind of rhythmic slicing. Taki frowned again. Now he could really stand it no longer. Did none of the others see the fundamental gap in the logic of this twisted situation? Were they really just that stupid or ignorant? He chose his next words carefully. Fostering resentment could be fatal.
“Uh, look, I really don’t mean to offend anyone who’s thought of this before, but why can’t we just, you know, change the name to something else?”
“Because it’s not for us to change. The Major put it on the official ledger and none of us have the authority to change it. Besides, she chose it with...love and care,” Lotte said. Taki stared at her. The silver aiguillette hanging from a shoulder board on her blouse definitely identified her as a regimental captain. Someone who should have been long-removed from this sort of gr
unt work.
“What she means is the major gets really horny at witnessing the suffering of others. Kind of like touching yourself while pulling the wings off a fly,” Hadassah said. Her expression had at least changed from despair to disdain.
“Not another word, Mikkelsen, or I’m chaining you to Draco and tossing the key,” Lotte warned.
“Then how the hell am I gonna pee?”
“What part of ‘not another word’ did you misunderstand, lance corporal?”
“Captain, go easy on her, she’s got brain problems after all,” Draco snickered, earning a kick to the shins. Taki stifled a laugh.
“Something funny, Newboy?” Hadassah spat at him, prompting him to reflexively look away from the angry girl.
“All of you be quiet and pick up the pace,” Lotte said, rolling her eyes. “If we don’t peel another fifty kilos we’ll be locked in here all night. Then we’re all holding it in.”
“Captain,” Draco said after a long pause. “I mean no disrespect, but Natalis is right, and his brain hasn’t been softened by a year of torture. Our suffering is entirely the fault of one person. But this...person,” he spat the word, “also has the power to end our torment, and you have the standing to convince her. So I’m asking you once more. Just make her change the name. Please.”
“I can’t!” Lotte exhaled in frustration. “I’ve begged her over and over again. The answer is always ‘no.’ She’s stubborn.”
Draco rose and attempted to pace despite his manacles. “Are you sure you’ve tried everything?”
“Yes! She just doesn’t feel remorse. Or mercy,” Lotte said.
“Have you tried offering her…”
“A bribe? I’m too poor.”
“Then how about-”
She knew what he was going to say. “Sex? She laughed at me.”
“That’s horrible! I... I wouldn’t have laughed.”
“That’s very sweet. Now return to peeling, Emreis.”
“I’ve always liked you, you know.”
The tips of Taki’s ears turned red to hear Draco’s words. Did I just hear some sort of love confession? How loose is the discipline here, anyway? He reached for another potato and surreptitiously glanced at his captain to see what her reaction might be.
Lotte rolled her eyes. “You’ve always liked everything with a vagina.”
“But yours is special!” Draco stopped, as if forcibly swallowing his own tongue. “Anyway, would you mind undoing my irons?”
“No. That is, I do mind.”
“Come on, please?”
She crossed her arms. “If Natalis hadn’t stopped you, you’d have been shot at the gates. Actually, I think they wanted to shoot you anyway but didn’t want to hit me...much.”
He looked close to tears. “I’ll run faster this time. I promise.”
“Besides the obvious issue of you dying, I can’t just let you desert again.”
“Then I have no choice.” Draco tossed his half-peeled tuber into the communal pile and resolutely straightened his posture.
“Damn it, Emreis, not again,” Lotte groaned.
“I’ll save everyone the bullets and off myself right here. Sorry, Lotte, I really tried.” He gripped the handle of his peeling dirk in both hands and pressed the tip against his throat where it would penetrate the carotid artery. “See you in Hell, Major Hecaton Kheiris Mezeta! Goodbye, world!”
He squeezed his eyes shut and his arms tensed. No one heard the door to the room open and close in that instant.
“Don’t cut yourself. It dulls the knife,” a woman’s voice hissed in Draco’s ear. His torso was stock-still but his legs began to quiver.
“M-m-major? I uh, didn’t realize you were right there, and…”
“If I really thought you were about to contaminate my dinner, I’d knock you on your ass, but you don’t have the sand to complete the job. Stop preening like an idiot and pay attention.”
“All rise and salute, you dogs! There’s a flag officer present!” Lotte snapped, and kicked Draco in the shin.
The newly-arrived woman exhaled in disappointment and stepped around him to put a booted foot up on a nearby bench. She lit a hand-rolled cigarette and focused a feline stare on her subordinates. Crow’s feet framed a pair of sun-flecked eyes that probed the innermost recesses of whoever she fixed her gaze on without regard for consent.
Strange, Taki thought—when she had accosted him a few weeks ago those golden irises had seemed so enchanting. Now, the silver-haired woman was pushing him to the verge of nervous incontinence.
“H. K. Mezeta: the Hundred Arms of the Mountain,” he murmured under his breath.
Hecaton’s ears pricked up. “The ‘H’ is for annihilation.”
“But that’s not the right spelling,” Hadassah said.
“You’ve got a big mouth for someone who can barely read,” Hecaton said.
The redhead fumed with anger and shame.
“Major, do you have orders for us?” Lotte asked. It was the captain’s role to serve as a buffer between high command and the grunts. That job was doubly important when dealing with this particular major.
Hecaton actually visited her squad in the kitchens on a regular basis, though it seemed that she only did so to gloat. However, she was also tasked with assigning them to missions. Battle orders were a rare and precious event that meant the chance to leave the Cloud Temple and potato duty, at least for a short while. They meant keeping Draco and all the others from suiciding, deserting, or going stir-crazy. War with the Imperium was the best thing to happen to Tirefire the Lesser in a long time.
“Mmm, yep,” Hecaton said, and handed a calfskin envelope to Lotte. “Details in the folder. Bottom line is that you infants are on guard duty at the Vergina town armory, and I’m babysitting you. The bigwigs think the Imperium will try to take the stupid rock. Rumors are they’ll send their new crop of spetsnaz. What a stupid name. Anyway, your job is to spank them and drive them away. Like you would a cat pawing and purring at you in the morning because it’s being a little shit.”
“Understood, Major. Thank you... And, speaking of cats, how is Babu doing?” After Hecaton’s third refusal to change the name of the squad, their mascot privilege had been revoked.
“Don’t worry, I’m keeping that useless male fed, but he’s become annoying the way he carries on and humps everything with four legs. I know a woman who has a way of dealing with that. She ties a string really tight around the little sack and just leaves it there until everything dries up and falls off.”
“How charming.” Lotte cast a sideways glance at Draco. “And, one more thing. Considering that my senior corporal just tried to off himself over potato duty, would you consider changing the unit name?”
Hecaton exhaled in annoyance as she regarded the tub of peeled potatoes.
“You lot are polaris of the Cloud Temple, are you not? You are inheritors of the power that destroyed the Golden Age of mankind. Each of you is worth an entire legion of the regular army. So I’m sure you can handle killing a few potatoes. Look, they don’t even shoot back!” She picked one up and crushed it. Starchy gore dribbled between her fingers and spattered on her boots and the floor. “Anyway, haven’t you ever considered this as a valuable training opportunity? You should thank me for my gift.”
She was rewarded with stultified expressions as she departed the room. “You all need to take a good, long, hard look at yourselves in the mirror.” The door to the storeroom shut on her words.
“A... gift. This is... a gift?” Draco whispered.
Hadassah raised an eyebrow.
“Should we, uh, report him to the surgeons or something?” she asked.
Lotte’s open palm smacked into Draco’s face with a resounding crack before she crossed her arms.
“Draco Emreis, why shouldn’t I have you lobotomized for that?” She pierced him with a glare. He guffawed, rubbing a hand over the welt on his cheek.
“I, ah, wouldn’t be a useful member of the squa
d, then. You know, you need your brain to strategize, right? I reason it’s all or nothing. Either all my brains are in my skull or they’re on the floor. Besides, it’s all fine now, we’re finally getting some action! And more importantly, getting out of this place!”
“So basically you’re saying,” began Hadassah sagely, before windmilling her arms. “Oh GAWD! I’m an angry little zit and when things don’t go my way I’ll spray you all with my disgusting body fluids!”
“Shut it!”
“She’s right,” Lotte said. “How do you think that selfish little outburst made us feel? Made me feel?”
Taki’s knees weakened. At this point he would have gladly taken a week of peeling in silence over this. There was nothing in the world he hated more than witnessing an argument or a scolding. Such displays had always made him feel embarrassed by proxy.
“My apologies, ma’am!” Draco said, saluting. “But admit it, this really sucks! I mean, more than a year on punishment detail over the name of our squad? It’s all the major’s fault. We’re all laughingstocks of the Temple. I can’t get a date to save my life! I mean, I’m a man and I have needs, and when we can’t even get leave to go to the brothel what am I supposed to do?”
“Deal with it!” Hadassah said. “You think the captain and I are doing any better? I’m completely unmarriageable at this point.”
“You can’t get married because you’re a nutty mutant.”
“Rotten asshole! Tie a string around your nuts!”
Taki started to smirk at their exchange, but a glance at Lotte quickly squelched his mirth. His captain was silent, but the look in her eyes sent fear coursing down into his nether regions. In the academy, instructors had tried to teach him how to read bodily cues to better assess an enemy. Though he had forgotten most of it, he remembered that another human’s willingness to kill was never subtle. She’s going to murder them, he realized. Their antics have driven her mad and now she’s going to stab Emreis in the throat, break the loudmouthed girl’s neck, and put a round in my gut. It’s not fair. My career’s just beginning. I’ve never been kissed!
“Oh, Emreis! How did you find out what the major’s full name was? I just knew her as ‘H. K.’ and thought that was it,” Taki blurted out, blatantly trying to change the subject. Draco seemed the type who liked to show off his knowledge. And my godrotting life depends on it.