Chapter 6
MARK
Every time he visited in an official capacity, he tried not to wince when the locals tried to impress him. To be honest, he wasn’t an easy man to impress. After all, if he hadn’t seen it all, no one had. So he smiled and nodded as he exited the airship and stepped onto solid ground. The flags and fanfare, the ranking officers, the honor guard… It was all background noise to him. To be endured, so that he could do what he had come for. To get an impression of the state of the northern defenses, to see for himself how things were, unpolished and rough, and so much more reliable than the reports they received back in Legacy.
He’d been to Camp Sharpe before, but the visit he was thinking of as he walked on the concrete airpad was the one he’d made before the Fall. The memory that was so old, it was hard to distinguish from fantasy, but some details were vivid enough to make him forget that it had been more than two centuries ago. He’d been with his girlfriend at the time, a cute little thing called Wendy. He chuckled. There had been a few, back when he was quite the eligible bachelor. But he’d really believed in that relationship, for a while, and taken her to this place, which had been known to be a romantic hotspot. The waterfalls had impressed him, and it was sad to know that none of these youngsters would ever see what he’d seen. Even the lakes had disappeared. But some things hadn’t changed. This was still on the border of this country. And even if it wasn’t the same country anymore, it was still his.
The small group approaching consisted of three newly minted Janissaries and one tacticus, all sworn to protect this northern border, and his way of life. He could see their commander, a tacticus of Moon blood, walked with a limp, although he seemed to try not to. Another wore an oversize bandage on his right hand. Two girls. Women, he corrected himself. Unharmed, from the looks of them. The last one lay on a stretcher, carried off by medics, to be taken to the camp hospital. Too bad, Mark thought. He would have liked to shake his hand.
The man walking beside him, Sub Strategos Janev, the commander of Camp Sharpe and a twenty-year veteran of Janissary training, beamed as the small group stopped in front of them, coming to attention as one.
“Tacticus Hordvik. I see you brought these fine young Janissaries safely back from quite a skirmish,” Janev said. He looked over at the one leaving the platform. “And from what I heard, that one over there will be just fine in a few weeks also. Well done.” He shook the younger man’s hand. The tacticus hesitated, and Mark thought he looked like he wanted to say something.
“Speak up, son, what is it?” Mark said. The tacticus, Hordvik, looked at him, and his eyes widened. Mark almost sighed. It was the same every time people realized who he was. The young man didn’t hesitate for long though.
“It’s, well, I don’t deserve this, sir,” he said. The sub strategos laughed, about to wave it all off as modesty, but the tacticus spoke again.
“This woman deserves the credit, sir. When pinned down and under fire, she single-handedly took out five enemies and a tactical rocket launcher. That was after she and this man incapacitated a nest of enemies that was about to slaughter us all. If not for her, none of us would be alive now.” Mark looked at the young woman, who was blushing from the praise. She had long, dark hair, tied up in a knot, hazel eyes, and a look about her that told him this wasn’t any ordinary youngster, picked up to serve and die. This woman was leadership material, and there was something there that he recognized instantly. A willingness to do the right thing, no matter the cost. He cocked his head slightly.
Sub Strategos Janev grinned.
“I promise I’ll read the report, Hordvik, and if it is as you claim, I believe we have a distinguished merit under fire medal coming, don’t you?” He laughed and turned to Mark.
“Not bad for a green initiate on her first combat patrol. I told you we’re training some fine young Janissaries up here, Counselor.” Mark smiled back, eyeing the young woman sideways. She was staring straight ahead.
“You can say that again, Janev. I’m impressed.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m told you have a tradition here, when initiates become full Janissaries…”
“Oh, yes, Survivor Night. Well, it’s not much to someone like you…” Janev said. Mark pressed on.
“I would very much like to join these fine young men and women. In fact, I was planning to ask you for a favor, but I understand it is custom that a high-ranking officer attends.” Janev looked puzzled. Mark smiled. In order to get foot soldiers talking, he usually tried to get the officers out of the way.
“Now though, while you gather the information I need, I could take your place at this... dinner. I would love to get a chance to speak to them, and this way, you get the work done faster.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Whatever Mark Novak decided, a mere sub strategos would obey. Even if the blustering Janev was Moon people and he was not. Mark motioned for his attendants to follow, as he walked toward the suites prepared for him. Sub Strategos Janev remained standing for a moment before following.
Obedient dog, Mark thought. Born to rule and all that. He wondered what it would take, for someone with the power to make some real decisions, to see as he did that the system needed reform, or it would fall. The way things were heading, the Covenant wasn’t sustainable. It reminded him too much of the systems he’d read about in history books, back in the old world. Systems that exploited the many for the gain of the few. A part of him wished for reforms, while another part secretly wished for the system to come crashing down. The one thing that frightened him, though, every time these thoughts came to him, was that if the latter happened, he would certainly be among the first to fall.
SUE
Ever since she first arrived at Camp Sharpe, Sue had heard talk of Survivor Night. Indeed, every Janissary who had passed their final test for their JJ bar, whether that was actual combat or not, had been through this. And now it was her turn. She was marching slowly beside Tac Hordvik. Behind her, Keisha and Julian followed. It was more of a leisurely walk than a march, but such was the custom on Survivor Night.
There were other patrols, as well, and she recognized Laurie from back home limping in the back of one of the patrols. So, he was one of those who would enter true Janissary status with combat experience. Others, who clearly hadn’t seen combat, were staring at them, big-eyed and curious, although they looked weary, as well. The officers made sure no one got it the easy way.
Sue was acutely conscious that she must smell awful. No one was allowed to shower before Survivor Night—another Janissary tradition. They would wear their battle dress, complete with sweat, dirt, even blood, making the contrast to all the luxury even starker. The mess, usually nice enough but nothing lavish, would be decorated for the occasion.
Sub Meridian Hoston received them at the entrance. Although dirty from being out in the field with one of the patrols, he still looked like he had groomed himself, just a little. He had dark blond hair, short in the neck and on the sides, while the top had grown long enough to fall down on one side. He was probably around thirty, sporting a short, purple-dyed goatee that emphasized his grey eyes. Sue had seen him around camp, mostly just talking to the tacticus, passing down orders. Initiates never spoke to officers, and officers rarely bothered with initiates. Come to think of it, Sue had never seen him smile before, but now he did, a wide grin, ear to ear. He nodded to Tac Hordvik, who moved aside while Hoston opened a dark wooden box. Sue strained to see.
The box contained at least twenty small gold bars. The single bar of a Junior Janissary. The sub meridian pinned a gold bar to the lapel of her shirt first.
“Welcome, Janissary Atlas. May you reap honor,” he said, right fist to the heart, Janissary style. Sue repeated the salute.
“We reap what we sow. Service to the State,” she replied.
As soon as every member of her patrol had received their gold bar, they were let inside.
Sue stopped just inside, jaw agape. The mess was barely recognizable, and if she hadn’t known better, she wo
uld have believed this was one of those fine restaurants she had heard of, one of those found only in the big cities, or even just in Legacy itself.
Cloth draped the walls, the black and white of the Covenant, and the floor was covered in red carpets. She felt guilty for stepping on such fine fabric with her muddy boots. There were candelabras lining the walls, and the tables were set with delicate white tablecloths, with a long black cloth dividing it along the middle, with thick candles burning. In front of every chair, the tables were set with fine silverware. And the smell! She noticed the servants lined up by the far wall holding large, covered trays. She didn’t even know they had servants here in Camp Sharpe, but these looked like they had never done anything else their entire lives.
The headwaiter stepped forward and motioned for them to sit down, and Sue hesitantly took a seat beside Keisha, who was quick to pick her place. Tac Hordvik—Evan, she reminded herself—sat down on the other side. The servants began to serve the first course, a fish of some kind. It was red and cold and salty, and melted on the tongue. The fruit laid beside it was something she had never seen before. It tasted heavenly, though. It was far too little, and her stomach growled as soon as she finished off the last bite.
A door on the far side of the room opened, and when she saw who entered, she laid down her silverware, swallowing hard. Counselor Novak smiled as he sat down opposite her. A servant offered to serve the fish, salmon he called it, but the counselor declined. How could anyone decline such food? He took some wine instead, smelling it thoroughly before he sipped.
“So, Atlas. I’m looking forward to hearing your story,” he said, before turning toward Tac Hordvik.
“But first, tacticus, I must say I’m curious about you. I’ve heard very good things about you. The sub strategos tells me you have declined advancement more than once.” Hordvik didn’t say anything, and the counselor took another sip of his wine. He did something curious, which to Sue sounded like a gurgle. Then he swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment.
“Very nice…” he murmured, giving the headwaiter an approving nod. Then he looked back at the tacticus.
“Evan Hordvik, a tacticus in the Janissaries, risking his neck again and again, instead of taking command like his father would expect of him. Declined a placement on Strategos Command two years ago, refused to go to the Military Academy one year ago—again, since you had the opportunity three years ago, as well. Made your father very angry when you decided to stay with the Janissaries even after he got you a placement with the Luna Brigade. Now that was one choice I never did understand. Some people, myself included, who believed you had an urge to be in the best combat unit, expected you to embrace that placement. I thought perhaps the challenge would tempt you. Even you would have struggled to be accepted through their selection process.” Sue didn’t understand half of this, but she did understand that Hordvik had had several opportunities that most wouldn’t even dream of, and yet, he had chosen to remain with the Janissaries, a mere tacticus, when he could have been an officer a long time ago.
Sue almost didn’t notice the servants placing the next course before her, until the smell woke her. The deer steak—from the preserve, obviously—with carrots, potato puree, and a creamy sauce made her mouth water, and she had a hard time restraining herself. The counselor noticed, though, and smiled as he motioned for her to eat.
“Go on, Janissary, eat. You have deserved this.” She didn’t wait for him to repeat, and took a bite. The meat was like nothing she had had back home. So tender.
“So, Hordvik. Why would someone of the Moon people, especially someone from a prominent family like the Hordviks, choose to serve with the Janissaries? And to continue serving for years. You know what you are risking. You’re not like these kids from Charlestown or Holstonhead or Nevayrk. They don’t have as much to lose. Thirty more years, against the possibility to live forever, what’s that really, in the great scheme of things? But you are a Hordvik. So why?” Sue noticed the Evan’s eyes narrowed. It was as if she saw two equals speaking, making her acutely aware of her own status.
“You mean, why I choose to serve?” Hordvik said. Novak nodded.
“Why shouldn’t I serve?” Hordvik asked, giving the counselor a challenging stare. “Why shouldn’t I?” The counselor cocked his head, just a little. Sue remembered seeing his face on television, years ago. She couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. He looked exactly the same, except for the intensity of his eyes, never blinking. Television really didn’t convey every detail.
“Okay, I get it. You choose to serve. But what about command? A strategos serves just as a tacticus does. But you choose to remain a foot soldier. Why?” Sue took another bite, but even the savory food couldn’t distract her from the intensity of the conversation. Tac Hordvik eyed her, as if wondering whether to speak with an audience, but got a hard look as he turned his gaze back to the counselor.
“Service to the State. What does it really mean, Counselor?” He shook his head. “It has become empty words among my people. Why are we born citizens? Why are we automatically chosen for command? Those not of the Moon people; I’ve seen so many Janissaries from those small towns you mentioned, capable, intelligent people. Some of them are dead now. Others have chosen to extend their Service. Others again, are citizens today. They have earned it.” His voice was ice now, but Sue noticed a slight movement, as if the counselor was nodding. Curious, she thought. Horvik didn’t seem to notice, though.
“I was lucky,” he continued. “I was born to rule… But here’s the thing, Counselor. I think it corrupts us.” He paused, only to speak again when Counselor Novak didn’t say anything. “It corrupts the people, the State, everything. And if we don’t change, the Moon people will fall. The Covenant will fall. Make no mistake, Counselor, I love my people, and I love the Covenant. I cannot stand idly by and watch the corruption eat away everything we have created since the Descent.” He exhaled and seemed to notice the others staring at him. He picked up his glass and took a deep swallow. Then he grinned, setting his glass back down.
“So, in my small way, I choose to do what everyone should be doing. I serve.”
Sue hadn’t been wrong, the counselor was indeed nodding. The conversation between the two was clearly over, though, and the counselor turned his attention to her.
“Janissary Atlas, I would love to hear your story, and maybe the rest of you can help out, as well. Please, tell me what happened out there.”
“I assume you’ve read the file, Counselor,” she replied. Novak nodded affirmatively.
“Still, I’d like to hear your version of it. All of you.” Sue took a deep breath—where to begin?
“Well, sir, let’s begin with the first contact. I think Keisha was the first one to notice the ambush…” She continued by telling the story as thoroughly as possible. They all filled in whenever she became stuck, and Keisha gave a vivid description of how she had stormed forward, fearlessly, while the enemy was firing all over them. Too vivid for Sue’s taste, and she’d never been fearless. Still the story told was mostly accurate, more than she would have been able to tell all by herself. She even told him about the woman, the prisoner. Julian took over when she began to speculate how she could have avoided killing her, for which she was grateful. Sometimes Counselor Novak had a question, and she tried to answer as well as she could. In the end, Tac Hordvik told of their return and how the airship took them away, He repeated his claim that none of them would be alive if not for her actions.
“So, Susan, you relieved your superior of command. One of the Moon blood.” There it was. The counselor hadn’t missed that one point, that one fact that would be considered a serious crime, whatever else she had done. She felt her cheeks grow hot, but she didn’t say anything.
“Sir, Counselor. She did what she had to do to keep us all alive,” Hordvik protested. The counselor looked into her eyes, considering. Then he rose abruptly.
“Let’s change that bit, shall we?” he said.
>
“Sir?”
“Let’s not spread that part beyond this group. I’ll fix the report; don’t worry. And none of you tell that particular bit to anyone, got it?” He extended his hand, and she took it. His grip was firm, surprisingly so.
“We all know this was the only option, so let’s just say that the tacticus gave the order, All right?” he said. Tac Hordvik grinned, and Novak grinned back.
“We all know that sometimes you have to break a few rules to set things straight,” he said. Then he let go of her hand, turned, and walked out, leaving them all in silence. At last, Keisha broke the silence.
“Where is everyone? I thought Survivor Night was for everyone.” Julian motioned for them to look over to the entrance from which they had come. The others were entering, led by Sub Meridian Hoston. Sue sat down again, hoping there was still some warmth in her food. Curious. The counselor must have made sure nobody else was around to hear her story. It was the only explanation she could think of. But why would he even care?
DAVE
The alarm pierced his ears and tore him out of sleep. Dave sat up, bewildered, and for a few seconds, he was back in Charlestown, wondering what was happening. Then, as he realized where he was, a chill ran down his spine. Could this be the real thing?
He got up and put on his pants. He pulled his shirt on, but messed up the buttons, so that one side of his loose shirt end hung lower than the other. He didn’t bother to redo it. His boots went on, and he slapped the Velcro tight around his ankles. Lucky they didn’t use shoelaces, he thought, as he sprinted out of the dorm with the others.
Just outside, two senior stewards stood handing out handguns and rifles to every initiate, before ushering them along. Dave got a pistol and was sent over to the next group of stewards, who were handing out ammunition. He got two boxes of cartridges and opened the lid slightly to look inside. Live rounds. So, if this was a drill, it was damn realistic.
RIFT (The Rift Saga Book 1) Page 7