by Brian Dorsey
“Clear,” said Martin into the comms link.
“Looks like we don’t have to move for at least a few hours, LT,” said Yates as he sat next to Martin.
“You and Shara get some sleep, I’ll wake you in a few hours,” said Martin.
“LT, I—”
“Don’t want to hear it this time, Sergeant,” interrupted Martin. “That’s an order.”
“Roger, Ma’am,” answered Yates as he activated his comms link. “Shara, take two hours.”
‘Roger,’ replied Shara over the circuit.
“You too, Sergeant.”
“In a bit, LT. Just wanna get a few bites in. Sleeping on an almost empty stomach is better than sleeping on a completely empty one,” replied Yates as he pulled a food pack from his pack.
“Fair enough,” said Martin.
She looked off into the distant, not focusing on anything as Yates took a few bites.
“You okay, LT?” asked Yates, drawing Martin’s attention.
“What? Yeah, Sergeant, I’m fine. Just some long days.”
“Real fuckin’ long,” replied Yates. “But we’re holding on.”
“Holding on isn’t enough,” grumbled Martin. “Our fellow Guardsmen are being held prisoner and we’re just out here running and hiding.”
“We are running and hiding, LT. But we’re doing something else too.”
“What’s that?”
“How far out have we moved in the last few days?”
“We’ve covered thirty kilometers probably, but moved out about ten or twelve from the outpost.”
“And what have the Terillians done?”
“Why do I feel you about to educate me on something, Yates?”
“Because that’s my job, LT. What have they been doing?”
“Increasing their patrols and their range.”
“Which does what?”
A smile came to Martin’s face. “Spreads out their defenses and pulls more men from the outpost.”
“There ya go, LT. You were thinking strategically the whole time…you just didn’t know it. Another day or two and I figure we can double back and at least take a shot at getting to our guys.”
“Thanks, Sergeant.”
“For what, LT?”
“Putting up with my shit and still finding a way to teach me.”
“It’s not really that tough to teach you, LT. You’re made for this job. And…” A smile formed on the sergeant’s face. “…I kinda have to put up with your shit. It’s my job.”
“Well, thanks anyway,” said Martin. “But I do have one more question.”
“Shoot.”
“The prisoner, how did—”
“That’s some nasty business,” interrupted Yates.
“I know it was necessary and I—”
“That’s not any business an officer should get involved in if you can help it. But now you know…in case you need to. It’s not pain that makes them talk…you have to get them thinking about what it means to be completely undone. Men try to rationalize interrogation, but there is nothing rational about it, nothing human about it. You have to become mechanical…” He paused. “And when you go there…you…it’s hard to come back.” He paused again. “But even then, half of what they tell you is shit. They just want it to end after they reach the point where they talk.”
“I’m glad we found out the others were alive and I’m glad you were there. But part of it…it just didn’t feel right—”
“It ain’t supposed to feel right, LT. If it starts feeling right…well, it shouldn’t feel right. But what you have to remember is that war isn’t about feeling right. It’s about winning. And winning feels a lot better than losing.”
“The mission always comes first,” seconded Martin.
“Some shit happened while you were out on that recon, didn’t it?” asked Yates.
“Just some shit that was necessary but didn’t feel right,” replied Martin.
“So another glorious day in the Guard?”
“For the Republic and the people,” said Martin.
“Yes,” said Yates, his face sober and fixed. “For the people…you’re absolutely fucking right. Every Ter we kill out here is one that will never have a chance to step foot on Humani soil.”
Martin was fascinated with the difference between Yates and Shara. “Why did you join, Sergeant?”
“That was a long time ago, LT.”
“But why?”
“My family name was shit and I didn’t want to be an agro-worker like my father or my father’s father. I wanted my children to be able to say their father was a hero of the people.”
“You have kids?”
“Two ex-wives.” Yates smiled, but it faded quickly. “But no kids. You have to actually be home for that.”
Martin saw a hint of regret on Yates’s face.
“But now I know it was for the best. I’m serving my people much better without a family to worry about back home. It keeps me straight so that I can train smart-ass junior officers,” he added as the smile returned to his face.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” replied Martin, smiling back. “But as your smart-ass junior officer, I’m ordering you to get some sleep.”
“You’re the boss,” replied Yates as he laid back and rolled onto his side. “Or at least it’s my job to make you think you are. Don’t let me get shot while I’m sleeping.”
“I’ll do my best, Sergeant,” replied Martin dryly, pushing herself up using her rifle.
Yates was asleep by the time Martin stood.
‘The dog deserves a rest too,’ she thought. “Daemon, free-rest,” she ordered. “Keep ’em safe, Martin,” she said aloud to herself.
With Yates and Shara asleep, Martin slung her rifle over her shoulder and began to climb a nearby evergreen.
Making her way up the maze of branches, she soon came to a spot about three meters off the ground that offered a better vantage point. Leaning against the sturdy tree, Martin rested her rifle across her lap and pulled out one of her few remaining food packs. As she scanned the swamp and forest below, her thoughts drifted.
She thought of her struggle just to get into the Guard—of the day Stone selected her:
***
Cadet Martin’s skin tingled and her muscles twitched with anxious excitement as she stood in formation with the rest of her company. Despite the nervous energy consuming her, she stood motionless in the ranks. Three years of studying quantum mechanics, combat tactics, poli-social systems, and putting up with an academy full of misogynistic, privileged, and too-often incompetent male classmates was worth this moment.
“Today,” barked Lieutenant Talon Haxus, Martin’s company training officer, “you will find out your assigned branch training billets.”
She struggled to contain the anticipation racing through her body. There was only one option for her—anything else would mean failure.
“Once selected,” continued Haxu, “you will spend the next year as a cadet officer within your selected branch. Following that year you’ll be assessed and, if you’re good enough, accepted by that branch and earn your commission. If not, you’ll be released to the civilian occupation bureau for assignment within the civilian sector.”
Martin’s mind raced. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she thought. ‘Just get to it.’ She hung on each word from Haxus.
“You have been assigned to a branch based on your academic aptitude, tactical assessments, psychological assessment, and of course, your family status.”
‘Son of a bitch,’ thought Martin. She’d worked too hard to lose her chance at the Elite Guard to some pompous First Family asshole. She quickly took a mental note of First Family cadets in her company: Cadet Gius, Cadet Vanari, Cadet Tacitus…‘Too many,’ she thought as her previous excitement turned to despair. She glanced up toward the ceiling and took a deep breath as her chest became heavy and she felt her stomach tighten.
“The available billets are as follows.”
&nb
sp; She started to feel sick.
“Fifteen cadets will be assigned to Logistics.”
‘Boring,’ she thought to herself.
“Thirty cadets to Aviation.”
‘Hell no.’
“Five to Intelligence.”
‘Idiots.’
“Seven to Medical.”
‘I didn’t join the military to heal people.’
“Twenty to Engineering.”
All she could think of was hours of studying electron spin theory and space-time manipulation and how it made her want to gouge her eyes out.
“Forty to Infantry and Air Assault.”
‘Like kissing your cousin.’
“Six to Staff.”
Martin knew there was no danger in a staff billet; those were only for first sons of First Family.
“Elite Guard…one cadet”
‘Damn it,’ she thought. ‘I’m done.’ Martin struggled to hold back the tears welling up. She’d proven herself the best cadet in her company—in the whole regiment—and she was going to be cheated out of the only reason she joined the military—to be the first female Elite Guard soldier.
She knew she would get the Infantry or Air Assault, but it was it a sad consolation prize. Her father, the dignified but broken former Praetorian Guard, would be proud, but that was his job as her father.
Heartbroken, Martin willed the tear in her eye to not fall. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Instead, she stood erect, with perfect military bearing, as Haxus called out each name and their assignment.
“Cadet Emily Martin, 3rd Air Assault.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Hearing it was worse than she thought. Now she would have to wait to see who took her spot. It did not take long.
“Cadet Julius Maxillis, Elite Guard. Congratulations.”
Martin gnashed her teeth inside her mouth and tightened her fists white as she stood at attention. She had hoped that being the best soldier would be enough, but it wasn’t.
As Haxus continued to read off the names and assignments, Martin heard the door to the assembly room open. Immediately, Haxus came to attention as did the two sergeants behind him.
Unable to turn in ranks, Martin heard footsteps approaching from the rear of the assembly. They grew louder and soon she could see the figures out of the corner of her eye.
Two men walked to the front of the formation.
Next to Lieutenant Haxus stood two Elite Guard officers. Martin felt her heart drop even further. Not only was she never going to be in the Elite Guard, but now it was as if the fates were rubbing it in her face.
Both men were perfect models of a Humani officer, tall and well-muscled. The lieutenant had a shaved head and held a guilty smile as he looked over the cadets. His eyes caught hers and she saw him give her a slow, long look—like so many other men had before—but for some reason she didn’t mind this time. After a second that seemed a week, she turned her gaze away from the lieutenant. In their little unspoken exchange, she had almost forgotten her world had just ended.
The other officer spoke.
“Lieutenant,” he said, “I was reviewing the selections and I see Cadet Maxillis has been selected for my team.”
Martin could feel confidence and authority flow from him. She would never be able to serve for an officer like this in the regular service.
“Yes, Captain Stone,” replied Haxus, still at attention.
The name exploded in Martin’s head like a cannon. Captain Tyler Lucius Stone was already a legend. Twice awarded the Senatorial Valor Medal and publicly acknowledged by the ProConsul for his bravery, he was the future of Alpha Humani’s military. He had just been selected for promotion to major and was also rumored to have caught the eye of the Lady Astra Varus, the beautiful daughter of Senator Dominotra Varus.
“I have reviewed the records and it appears there was a cadet who scored higher in every area except family status,” said Stone as he held out a digital recorder holding the cadet records.
“Well, uh, yes, sir,” stumbled Haxus. “But the assignment committee—”
“Doesn’t have to put their lives in the hands of the cadets they assign me,” interrupted Stone.
“Of course, sir,” replied Haxus. “But the other cadet is—”
“Cadet Martin,” interrupted Stone again.
A bolt of energy shot through her body like lightning.
“Cadet Martin,” Stone repeated. “Step forward.”
Without realizing she had moved, Martin stepped forward.
“Cadet Emily Martin reporting as ordered, sir,” she snapped.
“Cadet Maxillis, get up here too,” Stone added.
Martin sensed Maxillis quickly join her in front of the formation.
“So,” continued Stone as he stepped in front of Maxillis, stopping centimeters from his face. “The assignment committee is saying you are the best choice for the Guard.”
“Yes, Captain Lucius Stone,” replied the confident Maxillis, “and I, Cadet Julius Maxillis, look forward to learning from you and earning honors for myself and increasing my family’s honor.”
“Hmm,” replied Stone as he nodded his head slightly.
“What about you, Martin?”
She saw Captain Stone turn toward her. This was her chance, but she knew she couldn’t compete against Maxillis’s political influence.
“Sir,” she replied.
“What would you do on my team?”
It was now or never. She didn’t have family status, but she knew she was born to be an Elite Guard officer. She turned toward Stone, looking directly into his eyes. Coming to attention once again, she spoke:
“I will stand strong in the face of danger, for my comrades will do the same.
I will be unafraid of death, for death comes but once and cowardice is forever.
I will go close against the enemy, for my will is stronger than his.
I will show courage, for it is the one possession that cannot be taken.
I will die with pride, for I am fighting for my lineage and my people.
I will face death with joy, for I will become immortal—my shining glory never forgotten.”
She waited for Stone’s response. Over Stone’s shoulder, Martin saw the lieutenant—Jackson, his nametag read—nod his head in acceptance at her recital of the Elite Guard Oath. She had memorized the oath when she was twelve after reading about Stone’s famous ancestor, Colonel Aggripa Lucius Stone, and his exploits during the First Terillian War.
Stone stood silent.
“All I need to do is follow the oath, sir,” she continued. “I was born to be a Guardsman. I will face the enemy, I will take the breath of life from them and gladly give my own for you, Lieutenant Jackson, and any Humani—even for Cadet Maxillis and his First Family elites.”
Her heart pounded inside her chest as she waited for Stone’s response. She’d either impressed him or pissed him off; either way she would at least leave an impression.
Stone remained silent.
Martin stood like an oak. Staring forward at attention, her focus naturally set on Stone’s collar device and the Elite Guard insignia on his chest that she coveted so much.
Stone suddenly turned toward Lieutenant Haxus.
“Change the assignment,” he ordered. “She’s one of us.”
***
The crack and snap of a large tree in the distance drew her out of her reminiscence.
Looking to the west, she saw the top of an evergreen shaking in the distance, then another. The movement of trees began to trace a line toward her location, the shaking trees either falling or bowing outward toward the edges of the lines being drawn in the forest.
“Shit. Armor,” she cursed. She scanned the opening in the swamp to her left. Placing her rifle to her shoulder and peering through the scope, she saw the reflection of metal. Then it disappeared. Suddenly, a Scout Ranger flashed across the opening in the swamp but disappeared before she could get off a shot.
When she hit the ground, Martin rushed toward her sleeping companions.
“Get up!” she warned. “We’ve got company.”
“Where?” asked Yates, jumping from his sleep with a start.
“Armor to the west and infantry to the south...looks like Rangers.”
“Any other good news?” asked Shara
“There’s probably infantry with that armor.”
“Thanks, LT,” replied Shara, checking his vest.
“We should head southeast and get ahead of the infantry,” said Yates. “It will take—”
The Guardsmens’ attention was drawn upward as a Terillian transport flashed across the sky to the east.
“Or not,” grumbled Shara.
“They’re zeroing in on us,” said Yates. “They’re either really fucking lucky or—” She paused. “Fucking Varus,” cursed Martin, grasping the communications apparatus running from her ear to her throat.
“What?” asked Shara.
“Our pet First Family member must have given up some—or all—of our comms frequencies or positioning systems passwords.”
“No fucking way,” replied Shara.
“That son-of-a-bitch!” shouted Martin. “Everything goes off!” she ordered as she pulled the digital map from her vest and powered it down.
“I’m off-line,” reported Yates.
“Me too,” added Shara.
Martin’s teeth ground together and her body tensed. She knew Varus was a coward and incompetent, but now he had become a traitor to save his own skin. Stewing in her own pool of anger, she looked down toward Daemon.
“Shit,” she exclaimed, realizing the war dog’s AI could be used as a beacon. “Daemon, override…code…damn it,” she said, struggling to remember the code. “Charlie Victor November Seven Zero Eight Zero Seven.”
Daemon sat and looked up toward Martin.
“Disengage AI. Release…confirm Martin, Emily…” She paused. “Dalia,” she grumbled. “Code word Praetorian,” she added, shutting off all of Daemon’s AI functions.
“We should be moving,” said Yates, waiting for Martin’s order.
Martin recalled the nearby terrain from her time atop the evergreen. “They’re pushing us north into the open swamps.” She paused to think about three Guardsman and one war dog facing Terillian regulars, armor, and Scout Rangers in an open, soggy field. “If we can make a run to east, we might be able to blast through their lines before they get established and make a run for cover. Further to the east the terrain transitions to mostly forest with a few open areas. If we can get there, we can limit the armor’s impact and still set up some decent fields of fire.”