By Dawn's Early Light

by Jason Fuesting

  “What?” Eric said and looked down. Somewhere in his panicked fall, he’d drawn his boot knife. With some deliberate effort he loosened his white-knuckle grip on the blade.

  “Got to hand it to you. Most folks freeze up when they run into a wolverine face to face like that. Says something about you that you went to the knife when you emptied the magazine instead of just giving up.”

  Not giving up? Fuck, I didn’t have time to figure out what I was doing.

  Confused, Eric grabbed his rifle and found the bolt locked back on an empty magazine.

  “But, but it jammed. I got like, six shots off?” Eric said, befuddled.

  Byron snorted. “You burned through that mag like that rifle was automatic. Adrenaline is a motherfucker, Eric. Tell you what, swap mags and take a few minutes to get yourself back together. Bet you’re happy we stopped to take a dump a half hour ago. I’ll go check the house.”

  “What was that,” Doc said, huffing as jogged over. “Oh. Wow.”

  Suddenly exhausted, Eric weakly shook his head and sighed, “Yeah, it didn’t notice us until you yelled.”

  Doc managed to look embarrassed for once.

  “Sorry? Where’d Byron go?”

  “He’s checking the house.

  “Find anything?” Eric asked Byron when the man emerged a few minutes later.

  Byron shook his head. “Most of the place is ruined. Big guy over here got into the cabinets and crushed most of the cans, too. Floor collapsed in one spot and he got into the stores under the place, too. This place is a total loss.

  Eric sighed.

  “On the plus side, it’s a four hour hump back home with warm beds waiting for us,” Byron finished.

  “Are we going to salvage any of the meat off him?”

  “Oh, no,” Byron chuckled. “Wolverine is not for the faint of stomach. It’s tough, oily, and particularly horrid. I knew some folks back home who claimed to like it, but I’m pretty sure they were either lying or they hated themselves. Hadrian will probably have someone come back out here once spring hits and clean this place up. Bury what they can, burn the rest.”

  “You ready to get back home?” Byron asked and offered his hand.

  Eric pulled himself up and replied, “Sure.”

  The post-rush adrenaline drain dragged at him the entire walk back. He was fighting to keep his eyes open when they made it to the front door.

  “Hey,” Byron said as they stripped out of their cold weather gear. “Do you mind giving Turing a heads up on how the trip went? I’m going to talk with Hadrian about our visitor and prep an actual report.”

  “Sure,” Eric grunted, trying to keep any hint of disappointment out of his voice. Sleep would be nice.

  “We really need a dedicated locker room or something. Can’t say I care for changing in the foyer,” Byron muttered to himself before adding, “Oh, and when you’re done, Eric, hit your rack. I’d be surprised if you didn’t sleepwalk half the way here. You look like reheated hell leftovers.”

  Eric gave a guilty grin on the way down the hall. He rapped on the door to Turing’s study twice and opened the door to find the man sitting at his desk surrounded by open books.

  “How’d our diplomatic mission go?” Turing asked.

  “As my old XO would say, it was a qualified success.”

  “What are the caveats?”

  “Well, we managed to make it to all twelve cabins. All of them were occupied. Five of them agreed without hearing much more than we would pay them in food. Four wanted to barter over how much. Two of them weren’t interested. For now,” Eric said, easing himself into one of the chairs before Turing’s desk. Oh thank God for soft chairs.

  “That’s eleven.”

  “No survivors at the last cabin,” Eric said as he looked over Turing’s desk. Turing nodded, his expression neutral and Eric could see he was retreating back to whatever he’d been working on. “Literally no survivors. They were dead.” That got Turing’s attention. “At least five people were killed by a highland wolverine. It using the place as a den. We killed it.”

  “Oh, well done. You killing it, that is. Their loss is unfortunate. How many people do we expect for planting and harvest?”

  “Better part of fifty. Bringing Doc turned out to be a good idea. I’m pretty sure he’s the main reason most were agreeable.”

  “Fifty? Good. Pascal will be pleased, do doubt. With the two groups Hadrian brought in while you were away, that brings us to eighty mostly able bodies. With luck, that will be enough for us to spare people for Hadrian’s project. Depending on how the spring goes and if this acceleration in drop-offs continues, we might be able to break a hundred and fifty before next winter if nothing untoward happens. Thank you, Eric.”

  Eric stood and began to leave when he caught sight of something metallic mostly concealed under a stack of papers. The object connected with an old memory from the Fortune.

  “Where’d you get that?” Eric asked.

  Turing looked at him and then glanced at the desk. “Get what?”

  “The drive bay from a Sentec data array. From the bunker, I presume.”

  “Oh,” Turing said and sighed. “I was rather hoping you wouldn’t notice that.”

  Taken aback, Eric asked, “Why?”

  “Expectations. I don’t want people expecting a miracle when none will come of it. I’ve already cracked the security on them. The device encryption was embarrassingly easy to bypass. Still, how did you know what brand they were? There weren’t any labels.”

  “One of our last jobs before we found the American warship, we hit a freighter carrying a ridiculous amount of computer equipment. Captain Fox decided it was time to upgrade our processing and storage capability, so I spent a few weeks with the folks doing the installs. The Sentecs were a real pain in the ass.”

  Turing snorted. “That they are.”

  “So what’s on the drives, really?”

  “Nothing major. I’m making copies of the planetary maps for Hadrian, but it’s mostly old family history. Journals, old business ledgers, photos. Goes back nearly to the start of the Protectorate. Nothing useful for anyone other than me. I did find a fairly large encrypted file I haven’t been able to crack yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Reading over what I have already is going to take a while, I’m already too busy as it is.”

  “Oh, well hopefully you find some entertaining stuff to read over.”

  “Speaking of reading,” Turing commented, “How has your education been going?”

  “Byron and Hadrian have been teaching me a lot. Infantry stuff, mostly. I did get around to checking out what was on the tablet, too.”

  “Oh? I kept a copy of most of it, but haven’t had the time yet.”

  “Yeah, Captain Morneault’s library is extensive. I’m skimming something called The Art of War right now.”

  “Sun Tzu, good.”

  “You’ve read it?”

  Turing grinned. “Read it? Several times. It was one of the first books Father gave me before I set off to the University. I also have a late twentieth century Earth copy on the shelf over there. If there’s anything by Carl von Clausewitz on your tablet, that’s worth your time too. Do me a favor if you don’t mind and let me know if you find anything relating to a Colonel John Boyd. I’ve seen several references to some ideas of his, but never a complete work by him.”

  “Sure.”

  “Any advancement on honest academics? I believe I have a few modern math and physics books you could borrow. Once you get into differentials and partials I’m thinking of asking Commander Grace to tutor you on the navigation equations. Should keep you both busy.”

  “Navigation equations? In system or between systems?”

  “Yes,” Turing said with a smile before he went back to reading.

  Eric showed himself out and made his way to his room.

  “Oh, Eric?” he heard Elizabeth say behind him. He glanced back to find her leaving the communal bathroom in a towel.

>   “Yes?”

  “Got a minute?”

  “I guess. Sorry, I’m beat. Just got back.”

  She looked about, obviously checking to see who might overhear.

  “Look,” she said quietly, “I just wanted to apologize.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I don’t know how things worked where you came from. On Pershing, women tend to be pretty forward about things, but that’s Pershing. Not every culture’s women are that way.”

  Eric opened his mouth to speak but Elizabeth nodded at his open door. She followed him inside and closed it behind them.

  “Look, I’m not saying you did anything wrong,” she told him. “You’re very much too young for me. I wasn’t thinking straight after the trial.”

  Eric frowned. “And the next morning?”

  Elizabeth gave him a weak shrug with a guilty smile. “Couldn’t resist temptation?”

  Eric returned the smile and said, “Neither could I.”

  “So yeah, I just wanted to make sure you understood. I’m not looking for a relationship. I guess if anything I wanted to feel like I was in control of myself, if that makes sense.”

  He nodded. “It does. I know how that feels.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry. I can’t say you have anything to be sorry about though. You’ve made more than a few girls happy, I’m sure.”

  Eric blushed at her sudden mischievous grin.

  “What?” she asked and then blood drained from her face. “Wait, you were a virgin? Shit.”

  “Technically?” Scratching his head, Eric looked away.

  “I’m not sure I follow. Virginity is like pregnancy. You either are or you aren’t.”

  “You’re not the only rape survivor in the room, Liz. Protectorate prison, remember?”

  Liz’s jaw dropped and her face burned. Almost as an afterthought, she covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh my god. How did I forget that? You told me at the bunker.”

  “It’s okay, Liz. I’m not upset. It’s something that happened to me, nothing more,” Eric told her.

  “But, but,” she sputtered.

  “You’re okay, Liz,” Eric said and sat on his rack. “Honestly, after everything that’s happened in the last few months, a relationship is the last thing I need. If it helps any, I was pretty happy with the whole thing. I slept a lot better. Still, I need to crash out. You can stay if you want, I’d appreciate the company. Up to you.”

  Eric watched emotion play across Elizabeth’s face for several seconds before she shrugged and let the towel drop.

  Day 45

  The forest around Eric stirred with constant motion. Intermittent morning spring breezes pushed at new leaves and young foliage while the birds pranced and sang their springtime melodies. Eric frowned at the squirrel barking at him in the tree across from his stand. Shut up, will you, buddy? I’d shoot you, but you’re not worth the ammo. Well that, and I’d scare off what I’m actually out here for. Some distance behind him, he heard Hadrian make another one of his random deer calls. Two hours and nothing. At least I enjoy being out here.

  Eric sat back and stretched.

  “Thank God, it’s finally warm enough I don’t need a coat,” he whispered to himself and froze. Something out of sight was moving through the woods. Better not be another goddamn squirrel.

  He caught his breath as a deer entered the clearing’s far side. It was small, and at this range he couldn’t tell if it was a doe or a young buck. Hadrian insisted bucks only. His pulse picked up a moment before he breathed as deep as he could quietly and willed himself to stillness. The forest is your camouflage. Only movement will give you away. Eric shouldered his rifle with languid ease. Shit. Doe. As he sighed a second deer, a much larger buck, meandered in followed by several other smaller deer. Eric didn’t bother with the others, he was fixated on the buck. The nubs on its head were obvious without the scope from where he sat.

  Few centimeters back from the armpit. He caught himself as he began to squeeze the trigger. Dumbass, this isn’t the range. Use the chevron, not the 100m dot. He swallowed, trying to wet his mouth, took one more breath and squeezed the trigger. His rifle kicked against his shoulder. The buck jumped and reared about to bolt, but instead of disappearing off into the brush, it stumbled when it came down and drunkenly staggered a handful of steps before collapsing to the ground.

  Eric slung his rifle and began climbing down. Half way down Eric heard the tuk-tuk-tuk call of what Hadrian had told him was a Highland Tanager. He replied to Hadrian’s query with what he hoped was a halfway decent Caledonian Cardinal. By the time Hadrian had caught up to him, the deer had stopped pawing at the air and its labored breathing had ceased.

  “Nice shot,” Hadrian commented, dropping his backpack and kneeling to pull his boot knife. He looked up at Eric a moment and said, “Something on your mind, Eric?”

  “Nah.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Eh. Just thought it was odd that watching it die bothered me more than the shit at the bunker did.”

  Hadrian regarded him for several silent moments.

  “It just struck me as confused, like it couldn’t understand what was going on. Just bothered me a bit. I’ll be fine.”

  Hadrian nodded as he stood and held out the knife. “Third lesson of the day. Field dressing.”

  A number of long minutes later, while cutting as he’d been shown Eric asked, “So how do you think our training is coming along? The cadre?”

  “Too early to tell, really, but it’ll have to do.”

  “Oh?”

  “Watch what you’re doing. Puncture the gall bladder and, well, you won’t make that mistake again. Turing told me before we set out that a number of our outlying guests approached him about my militia idea. Seems they like the idea of being stuck out here with the Legion even less than we do. Which is odd. Most pommie civilians never hear about the legions. Makes me wonder what their backgrounds are, but I’ll find that out when we get home.”

  “Yeah, they were supposed to show up today, right?”

  Hadrian nodded. “Okay, so--“

  Eric looked up a moment of silence later to see Hadrian staring off into the woods. He opened his mouth just as he heard what Hadrian had. Something was moving and it definitely wasn’t deer. Hurriedly, Eric wiped off Hadrian’s knife and held it out. Hadrian took it without a word and sheathed it. As the commando shuffled over to kneel behind some nearby greenery, Eric drifted over to the stout oak and brought his rifle up to his shoulder as he took cover behind it.

  Long moments passed as whoever it was got closer. Eric spotted movement and settled his chevron on the chest of one of the approaching disheveled men.

  “Halt!” Hadrian barked a heartbeat later.

  The group, all six of them froze almost instantly, gaunt hands going to the sky. Eric let his eyes play across the group. To a man, they were all clearly starving, all their clothing was unwashed and torn.

  “Where do you lads think you’re going? You do know you’re trespassing, yes?” Hadrian said casually.

  “N-no, sir,” the closest one managed. “We did not.”

  “Well, I’d suggest turning about and going back the way you came.”

  “Please, please don’t send us back,” one of the men in the back groaned.

  “Back? Back to where?”

  “Back to the legionnaires,” the second man replied.

  “Speak,” Hadrian ordered.

  “They came back with a load of loot early in the winter. Talk was how they found a bunker out this way over the winter and that there were other people living out this way.”

  “And?”

  “We waited until it looked warm enough we could get across the pass, overpowered our guards, and made a break for it.”

  “This all of you?”

  “What’s left. We started with a dozen.”

  “Your name?”

  “Elias Lainz. Doctor Elias Lainz.”

  Hadrian glanced over to Eric and ordered,
“Check them for tattoos.”

  Eric slung his rifle and drew his sidearm as he recalled the discussion he’d had with Hadrian and Byron on how the Legion conducted business.

  Stepping forward cautiously, he stated, “All of you will bare your necks and show me your wrists and forearms.” Nearly gagging on the smell of unwashed humanity a few moments later, he added, “And if I can’t see skin, rub the grime off for fuck’s sake.”

  Despite wanting desperately to step away from the cloud of human funk, Eric went over each person thoroughly. Inspection complete, Eric stepped back and called over his shoulder, “This last guy has some sort of scarring on the neck in the right spot, Hadrian. Looks like a burn or branding.”

  “The rest?” Hadrian asked.

  “They’re clear.”

  Eric jerked as Hadrian’s rifle barked. The man fell to the earth followed a few seconds later by the pattering of most of the upper portion of his skull as it did the same.

  “Now that we understand each other when it comes to the Legion,” Hadrian said, “if you’re willing to help us carry back our kill, you’re welcome to come back with us. Can’t promise you can stay, but you’ll get a meal at least. There’s a stream a few minutes’ walk to your right. It’ll be cold, but I really would appreciate it if you lads washed before handling anything.”

  “We got five new foundlings,” Eric said when Turing glanced up from the new computer he’d set up in his study. New being relative. It was still in the original packing when they’d pulled it out of the bunker.

  “Drop-offs? Bit late for that I’d think.”

  “Nah, escapees from the Legion.”

  Turing’s eyebrows rose. “Do tell.”

  “They say that they were part of a larger group who heard stories passed around that there were survivors on this side of the mountains. Rumors from the crew that hit the bunker, evidently. The group waited until they thought the Spring thaw had started and made a break from the Legion camps on the west side of the mountains. They guessed wrong. There were originally a dozen. Only six made it across the mountains. One of them had a Legion mark branded over. Hadrian took care of him.” Turing nodded and Eric continued, “Their story matches what Lance Corporal Taylor had to say about conditions. Migratory camps of two to three dozen Legion each, all of which answer to this Colonel Gliar. Non-Legion and the Legion criminals are subject to a chattel system.”