When she entered the barracks, she started. Tac Hordvik stood by her bunk, waiting.
“Susan,” he said, and she walked in. She didn’t know what to say, so she just waited for him to speak.
“The Westfold Brigade is a good unit. And you will do well there,” he said.
“Sure,” she said. She had no idea whether the Westfold Brigade was a good unit or not. “Actually, I’m not even sure where it is, Westfold.”
He smiled.
“Westfold is the westernmost part of the northern borderlands of the Covenant. In fact, if you go south from Westfold, you will reach Warden territory. As far as I know, our people don’t have much to do with them, though, even out in Westfold. But I’m sure I don’t know half of what happens out there,” he said. Then he looked at his watch.
“I have to go now. Counselor Novak made me realize something about myself, and I have accepted a placement with the Strategos Command back in Legacy. I might be back later, though, if it gets too boring.” Sue smiled back at him and realized this might be the last time she saw him. Tac Hordvik had taught her everything she knew, and now they were both going in their separate directions. She straightened and slammed her fist to her chest.
“It’s been an honor, sir,” she said. He did the same, a bit more slowly, before he spoke.
“The honor is all mine, Atlas.” Then he smiled again before he turned and walked away.
Sue didn’t waste much time packing. She didn’t have much to pack, anyway.
Five minutes later, she was on her way to the train platform with Julian and Keisha. It was strange, the last time she had gone by train had been with a friend, as well, but this time there was none of the uncertainty. Sure, she felt the excitement and wondered how her new unit would be, what kind of commander she would get, and what sort of tasks she would be assigned. And there was always the uncertainty of knowing that, at any time, she could be sent on a mission that ended badly. Janissary casualty rates were known to be high; that’s why nobody expected Janissaries to serve beyond their mandatory three years. But she had done well at Camp Sharpe, and she had been in combat, where she had done even better. She still felt a pang of regret thinking of the woman she had shot, but everyone kept telling her she wasn’t to blame and that there was nothing she could have done differently. So she tried not to think too much about it.
The train ride was much faster than the last time, too. The maglev lines going from east to west were designed to carry troops and supplies quickly to wherever they were needed. So after two hours, the train came to a stop, and everyone got off, stepping out onto the platform.
“Over here, Janissaries,” a tacticus shouted from behind the platform proper. They walked over. Sue wondered whether to come to attention or salute. Regulation said they should, but there was something about the woman, a casual style and a somewhat relaxed smile, that made her hesitate. Julian did, though, and the tacticus laughed.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, “you can quit that now. This ain’t Camp Sharpe. Here we do things a bit differently.” Sue cocked her head, noticing the smell. Sweet. She had another look at the woman, and noticed the look on her face. It wasn’t just her being relaxed or a more laid back attitude around camp. Her pupils were slightly dilated, and she had a dumb smile on her face. She was affected by something, Sue realized.
“So welcome to Camp Gustavson. Let’s get you bunked up, shall we?” the tacticus said. “Follow me.”
The three of them followed the woman to a building toward the center of camp. Inside, she noticed the No Smoking signs.
“See that?” the tacticus said. “No smoking.” She giggled.
“So keep it outside, all right? And if you need anything, and I mean anything, I’m right over there, in Supply. Just ask for Anna.” She pointed at a nearby building, where a bunch of crates were being carried inside by a group of Janissaries.
“All right then…” she continued, looking down at her infopad, searching with her finger until she found what she was looking for.
“We go by first names here, okay?” She looked down again.
“Keisha and Julian, you are housed in here. Just grab a free bunk; there should be plenty. Most of the guys in this room got caught up in an ambush last week. Those who made it won’t be coming back here, so just make yourselves at home.” Sue saw the stunned looks on her friends’ faces before they went inside. Anna didn’t wait for them and continued walking. They reached a room at the back of the building and went inside.
A lean fellow got up from his chair and extended his hand.
“Rory Sanders,” he said. Sue took his hand and shook it.
“Susan Atlas,” she said.
Although not very muscular, he looked wiry and strong, with a firm jaw and a mustache that made him similar to Tac Hordvik, in an odd way. From his looks, she could have sworn he was Moon people, but the name gave him up as just a regular guy from some small town, like her.
“So, I trust you’ll take good care of her, Rory. Let her know what’s what and who’s who.” The tacticus turned to Sue.
“And don’t let him be too strict. He’s a third-year vet, but you still outrank him. If you wanna come smoke, you do that, no matter what he tells you. You may need it, even if he don’t.” Sue nodded at her before Anna turned and walked away.
Rory motioned toward one of the bunks.
“Get yourself situated, Sub Tacticus. The rest of the guys are having dinner, so they’ll be back in about an hour.” Sue walked over and put her pack on a bunk that seemed unoccupied. She noticed Rory watching her, and turned toward him.
“So when do I meet my unit? Is this it? This room, I mean.” He nodded.
“We don’t usually get the green ones,” he said, looking her up and down. “Green as grass, but already a sub tacticus. And assigned here, to the QRF. You must be special.” He looked honestly surprised, now that Sue noticed. So he hadn’t seen the show then, thankfully.
“QRF?” she asked. Rory smiled.
“Quick Reaction Force. If something happens, we’re the first to go. And something does happen around here.” He motioned toward the door.
“The Westfold Brigade is a pretty good unit, and we see our share of action. You might have got the wrong impression, though, from her. It’s the kissweed from down south that messes people up. Look at Anna, Moon blood and all. She could have had anything. Instead, she chooses to stay, doing a shit job, high more often than not. Probably disowned by her family, I mean, she’s been her for as long as anyone can remember. But for some reason, the officers never crack down on it. Seems they think it’s all right for some reason. Shit.” He shook his head, but didn’t say anything more.
Sue hadn’t seen anything like kissweed at Camp Sharpe, but then again, that was a training unit. These guys saw combat all the time. She could figure some of them needed to unwind, although she wondered if there wasn’t a better way than by smoking kissweed. She changed the subject.
“So I’m supposed to be part of this QRF then. Is there some kind of training or something I have to go through first?” Rory grinned.
“Sure. As soon as we can get you suited up and get us a mission, we’ll go out there and train. And you’d better learn, Sub Tacticus. Else you die.” Sue nodded slowly. She had figured as much, but she had to ask.
“Ever wondered why we Janissaries got the highest casualty rates?” Rory asked. “We have a pretty straightforward selection routine, that’s what it is. You get through Camp Sharpe, you get thrown into the water. Sink or swim, live or die. A lot of people die.” He leaned back, rocking back and forth on two of the chair’s legs.
“You’re lucky, though. The QRF got the toughest assignments, but we’re also the best unit in camp. And that’s not just something I’m saying. If you’re going swimming in the deep waters, having competent people around you can make all the difference. We’re pretty serious, you’ll see. And none of us smoke, either.” Sue finally smiled. She found she liked the man.
“Sounds good,” she said. “Just one thing, and let me assure you, this is just because I’m curious, not because I’m planning to be the first smoker in the QRF. That kissweed, you said it comes from the South. You mean Covenant south? I’m from the South, Charlestown, and I’ve just barely heard of it. Or did you mean Corpus lands?” Rory shook his head.
“No, no, not that far. I meant Warden territory. They bring in supplies all the time, Weapons, ammo, high tech gadgets of every kind. Kissweed. Other stuff.” Sue raised her eyebrows. She had no idea. She thought of Dave, from back home, who had gone to the Wardens after she talked his way out of being sent to the Corpus. What on Earth was going on down there?
DAVE
Dave was deep in thought when the alarm sounded. He’d been trying to solve a particularly difficult problem in which an algorithm meant to fool a secure folder into thinking he had pressed a correct password code didn’t perform as expected. Instead, it made the folder initiate a self-destruct sequence, which was about as far from what he wanted as he could get. He cursed silently. Having lost his concentration due to the alarm, he logged off the training interface, grabbed his jacket, and walked out. The sunlight blinded him for a moment, and he squinted. He was expecting this to be like the last time the alarm sounded and was surprised when nobody stood by the door to hand out weapons and ammo. He kept walking until he reached the square, where everyone was gathered. A Moon blood Warden he knew as Kirilov was calling out names.
“Greer, Baldwin, Scott, Wagner.” Dave was certain he’d heard wrong, but Kirilov repeated the names until everyone was gathered around him.
“Let’s get you suited up and fit for fight. Follow me,” he said.
The four initiates walked after Kirilov, who stomped briskly over toward the building near the airpad, where he’d seen Liz go when she returned from her first patrol. Kirilov ushered them inside.
The inside of the building looked nothing like he’d expected. The outside had the markings of a hospital, but this looked more like something of a cross between a lab and a warehouse. There were people he’d never seen before, in white coats. They looked like doctors. Or lab technicians. No way to tell the difference, since Dave had only been inside a hospital once, as a kid, when he’d contracted a particularly nasty strain of flu.
“Get moving; we don’t have all day,” Kirilov said. A female doctor led them down a long hallway until they reached a door at the end. She opened it and motioned without a word for them to enter. Inside, a young man with distinct Moon people features stood preparing four syringes. The medical assistant turned, and Dave noticed the blood shot eyes and stubble on his cheek.
“Juri, thank you,” the woman said. “You can take the rest of the day off.” He mumbled an incomprehensible reply and left the room. The doctor spread her hand apologetically.
“He’s been up for forty-eight hours straight, working,” she said. Dave shrugged it off. Poor sod.
The woman, Thorvaldsen, according to her name tag, motioned for him to sit, and he took a seat as she picked up one of the syringes.
“Tilt your head,” she said. He complied, and she stuck the syringe into his neck with a steady hand. It hurt like hell, but only for a second, before the anesthetic numbed his skin. He’d had his share of shots in school, but only a couple of times had he gotten this kind of syringe. The difference was huge. This way, he didn’t feel a thing when she pressed the contents into his bloodstream.
“What is it, vaccine?” he asked. The woman just smiled, while Kirilov sneered.
“Did someone tell you to speak, Wagner?” he said. Dave didn’t reply, and Kirilov let it slide.
“All right, you’re all set. You can continue through that door,” Thorvaldsen said, still smiling, and Dave got up. As he opened the door to leave, he saw Scott get ready for his shot. The room he entered was empty, with just a table and six chairs. He sat down and touched his neck tentatively. The anesthetic was already wearing off, and it felt sore. He sat back and stared up at the ceiling, where a remote-controlled camera hung, watching him. He leaned to his right. The camera followed. Then he leaned to his left. The camera buzzed and followed him again. Then he got up and moved to the other side of the room. The camera followed. He grinned at it. He wasn’t looking forward to whatever was coming, but damned if he’d show it.
A noise from behind a door on the opposite side of the room got his attention. A commotion, feet shuffling, something getting knocked over. Someone was fighting. He walked over to the door, acutely aware of the camera following his every movement. He grabbed the handle cautiously. What could they do, really? It wasn’t as if he did something wrong. He opened the door, just a little. Enough to peer through the crack.
Three Wardens were holding someone down, pushing him against the floor, as a doctor holding a syringe struggled to inject the man, careful not to hit the Wardens. Dave watched, stunned, as the poor man got his head twisted so that the doctor could insert the syringe, and then he saw his face. It was Juri. Their eyes met. Juri’s eyes were wide open, and when he saw Dave he screamed.
“Ignorance is bliss! Bliss is ignorance! Don’t believe…” The tranquilizer worked astonishingly fast, and his eyes glazed over as his head slumped.
Dave shut the door as quietly as he could and took a step back. What the hell just happened?
He knew he shouldn’t have seen that. Had they noticed him?
He looked up at the camera again, realizing he’d been watched the whole time. He half expected someone to burst through the doors at any minute, to take him away, lock him up, or whatever they did to people who were too curious for their own good.
The door creaked.
He jumped.
Scott walked in, grinning.
“Shit man, you ready for this? Think we’ll get to actually see the Rift this…” he stopped, and Dave realized his face must have given him away.
“What’s wrong man?” Scott asked. Dave just shook his head, forcing a smile.
“Nothing, just… I guess it must be the syringe. I hate needles,” he said. Scott shrugged and continued talking, but Dave couldn’t get his mind off Juri’s face. Those eyes had seen something. And whatever it was, it had driven him mad.
SUE
Sue began to familiarize herself with everything and everyone, especially her new teammates, who mostly appeared reluctant to get to know new people. She understood. With the casualty rates of active Janissary units, it was to be expected that people would hold back. Nevertheless, she memorized their names: Rory, Henry, Christine, Alexandra, Raymond, Mikhail, and Oystein. Three Moon people and five English, including herself.
Although her rank warranted team command, her lack of experience meant she wouldn’t command anyone for a while yet, which suited her just fine. She never wanted command. But she noticed they all looked at her sideways, wondering. And perhaps there was a little envy, as well, although nobody showed it openly.
She didn’t care. She would prove herself soon enough. She hoped.
Rory was the exception to the rule, and she became friends with him from day one. He had a dark sense of humor, which she shared, but he had a serious side, as well, which showed whenever they were rehearsing tactics or cleaning weapons or talking about what lay beyond the border.
“Some of them speak English,” he said once. She had been surprised. The only one she had met—the woman she’d killed—had spoken a garbled tongue she didn’t understand. She shuddered at the memory.
“Most of them don’t, but I know it’s true. I heard it myself, once.” He continued by telling her about a day almost two years ago, when the northerners had attacked. They had almost overrun the camp, before the Janissaries regrouped, and struck back with everything they had. By the time the airships arrived, there were only scattered enemy pockets left. Rory had been there when one of those pockets surrendered. That was when he had heard one of them speak heavily accented English.
“Where had he learned our language?” Sue asked.
<
br /> “We’ll never know,” Rory said. “We executed them all. Orders.”
Sue thought about that story as she walked through camp on her way back from the shooting range. Strange to think that these people, the enemy, might be able to communicate with someone from the Covenant, if they could stop trying to kill each other off every time they encountered one another. But she had learned—in school, in basic, and from experience—that the northerners would kill every one of them, if they ever got the chance. The Janissaries were the only thing that stood between civilization and mass murder.
She passed Supply on her way, and Anna stuck her head out, grinning.
“Ah, Susan! You look like you’re getting settled in.” Sue smiled back. She liked the tacticus. Didn’t understand her—who understood Moon people, except the Moon people themselves—but liked her, definitely. Anna was an outcast, from what Rory had told her, but here, among brothers and sisters of arms, she had found her new home. There was a sadness about her, masked by a cheerful face and kissweed, but she seemed content with her life, somehow.
“Are Rory and the others treating you well?” Anna asked. Sue nodded, smiling back at her.
“Yes, Tacticus. Everything’s fine,” she replied. Of course, she didn’t have any new friends yet, and she didn’t see much of Keisha and Julian. Some of the QRF people might become friends, given time, but not yet.
“Good, good… And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me,” Anna said, as she usually did. Sue didn’t say anything as Anna’s head disappeared inside again.
She heard the whine a moment before Supply exploded.
One moment there was quiet, a nice and sunny winter day, with just a few wisps of snow in the air. The next, it was as if she had stepped into the fires of hell. Supply was a wreck, with everyone inside dead or dying. Anna…
More whines filled the air, and impacts turned the camp into a scene of random carnage. Buildings exploded and burned; the wounded lay screaming; and the dead littered the ground all around. Sue stood as if frozen, noticing the sounds had become muffled. It must have been one of the first blasts. What now? What to do?
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