“We should be careful though,” the patronizing voice counters. “As this team is freshly formed, its members may not be fully indoctrinated in the mission objectives. It would be a shame if they turned out to lack complete buy-in.”
“With the appropriate reward structure, we should be able to encourage their full cooperation,” responds the voice of the man who has primary responsibility for the facility. “But if, at any point, they fail a specific exercise, the program is designed to immediately demote them to the reserves. If this team doesn’t work out, we have plenty of alternates to fall back on.”
“All right,” concludes the most senior member of the gathering after taking a long pull on the glass filled with fine whiskey that he has been nursing throughout the presentation. “If there are no more questions, then I think we have a green light for the final ground phase. The construction is on schedule, so we should have initiation before the next election, providing us all with a helpful boost in the polls. Gentlemen, ladies, this meeting is adjourned.”
Chapter 35
Western Mountains
Underground Training Facility
Several weeks have passed since their initial trial in the maze. William spent the first couple days after it ended in the infirmary, recovering from the beating he received at the hands of the other team once they’d discovered they’d been tricked. True it had been painful, but he’d been lucky enough to get a hospital bed near the end of the row; which meant when Maria came in with one eye swollen shut and a severe limp, he could get her attention. She’d snuck out of line to say hello, and when he’d made a joke about how beat up they both were, she smiled, revealing several missing teeth. But the chance to see her smile again made the stay in the bed bearable, even if laughing was the most painful experience he’d ever had thanks to his fractured ribs. She’d tried to cover her mouth with her hand, embarrassed by the new gaps, but as William had been half laughing half groaning in agony, she instead reached to comfort him. He’d wanted to say something as simple as: “Hey, I still like you, even with redneck orthodontics,” just to get her to laugh again, but before he could work up the courage or regain his breath, one of the guards came over and forced her back into line. William wishes he’d had another chance to see her since, but their teams have been on different rotations. The occasional whispered “hi” and smile in the hall have been all the interaction they’ve been able to steal. Last time he saw her though, her teeth had been re-implanted, meaning she’d been willing to give William the full effect of her smile.
As William and his team have healed they have drawn closer. Scanning their faces, William corrects himself; they haven’t all bonded in the same way. Antonio, the only member who insists upon using his standardized name, Mike, hasn’t really fit in with everyone else. The most likely reason that William can think of is that, while the rest of the team—himself included—still carries the healing bruises from the first day in the maze, the only thing that Mike carries is a reward for outstanding performance during the exercise. Jackson in particular has taken offense at the slight, seeming to think that Mike was plotting against them the whole time. Mike, meanwhile, seems to like needling at Jackson just to see if he can get under his skin, so William is hardly surprised that, when his gaze falls on Jackson, he is glaring intently at the back of Mike’s head.
The instructor drones on in front of them. It would seem that today’s exercise is at least another interactive one, like the maze. It should be more interesting than the lectures and studying that they have been enduring since they became injured. Even if what they’re learning has practical value for their apparent future as space-faring explorers, twelve hours a day of lectures is enough to turn anyone’s mind to mush.
Their mission, they learn, is to apply their tracking and foraging skills to secure a particularly valuable outcropping of rock and a prize within it. Of course, like before in the maze, there will be other teams with the same objective and no mercy expected. This time instead of clubs, they will all be armed with guns loaded with knockout rounds.
“This exercise will be taking place above ground within a secured valley,” the instructor continues. “Your insertion point is here, at the north end of the valley. You will have forty-eight hours to locate and secure the site of interest. If one of the other teams manages to take possession of the site and successfully call in extraction before you do, you will fail the exercise. Are there any questions?”
The question, being rhetorical, doesn’t illicit a response from William or his team. While today’s briefing was much longer than their preparation for the maze, William doubts it is anywhere near comprehensive enough to allow them to find their target with any ease.
“All right, then suit up and prepare for deployment,” the instructor says, indicating the door at the front of the room.
*
Their suits for this exercise are significantly nicer than the sweat suits they wore into the maze. The suits are a dark gray, and the armor patches seem to shift through a spectrum of browns and greens, depending on the angle at which they are viewed. Each one has a built-in system for capturing and recycling sweat into drinking water and boasts a thin layer of hardened material over vital organs, for protection. The one kind of protection they are lacking, however, is sun protection, and the sun in the desolate valley where they are standing is baking everything in sight.
The heat is rising from them like a shimmering veil, seeming to bend their outlines and keep their forms moving, even when stationary. The transport truck that delivered them finishes its turn and tears back down the packed dirt road, back to the air-conditioned command post where their instructors are sitting.
Scanning the valley, squinting as much from the glare as from the dust kicked up by the fleeing truck, William can’t see a single tree or even a bush that stands higher than his knee. The floor of the valley is home to a number of outcroppings and the occasional mound of dirt. There is no visible wildlife and no visible shelter. Somewhere in this vast valley, amongst the towering mountains that surround them, there is a pile of rocks with the program’s logo painted on it and a small transceiver.
William slips the scanner they were supplied with from the loop on his belt and switches it on. The simple device has a directional receiver on one end and, on the other, a small gauge designed to show the signal strength that it is receiving. He sweeps it through a slow circle, starting with the direction from which they came.
“The signal is strongest in that direction,” he says, pointing down the left hand side of the canyon. “But I’m also picking up a weaker signal along the other side over there.”
Checking the readings again, he confirms the existence of the two signals before passing the scanner to Jill so that she can double check him. Jackson and Florence, both significantly taller than her, have no problem looking over her shoulder as she repeats William’s scan. Mike, on the other hand, sits perched on a small protrusion of rock, idly drawing patterns in the dirt with his toe.
“I see what you mean,” Jill confirms pointing down the length of the valley. “There is definitely a clear source that way. But the other source, though less direct, must be closer... or else on the other side of that mountain.” As she comments, she looks up at the imposing mass of granite that towers over them and appears to be the source of the weaker of the two signals. The others follow her gaze, taking in the looming bulk of the cliff and hoping they aren’t going to have to climb it.
“There’s only one source,” Jackson declares, turning back to the group. Seeing the puzzled looks on everyone’s faces, he explains further. “Look closely at the slope of that mountain. See how it stops, and there is that cliff that runs along there. That’s acting like a mirror and reflecting part of the original transmission back at us.”
“You’re just making that up; they probably just made a more diffused transmitter so that some idiot like you would trek all the way down to the far end of the valley,” Mike complains, his voice sou
nding nasally and wet despite the oppressive heat. “I say we go to the closer one, so we can get out of this heat as soon as possible.”
Jackson bristles, the heat wearing on his nerves as well. But before he can execute on his intent to beat Mike senseless, Jill tosses the receiver back to William and gives Jackson a shove in the chest. Since she is so much shorter than him, her push catches him right below the ribs, ensuring that he notices.
“Calm down you big buffoon,” she scolds, ignoring Mike’s presence. “Don’t waste any energy on him. I’d hate for you to get tired. I mean, if you fell behind, we’d be forced to leave you, since you’re too big to carry. And if you weren’t around, who’d act as my sun umbrella? The rest of these fools don’t cast big enough shadows.”
Her playful words and her defiant stance before him distract Jackson enough that all he does is cast Mike a meaningful glare. The subtext is not hard to read: He’s been pushed too far, and next time there is an opportunity, Mike had better watch his back.
“Whatever, we’re going to the closer one anyway,” Mike says dismissively as he dusts his legs off and stands. “I don’t even need that stupid receiver, I know right where to find it.”
The others look at each other incredulously as Mike strides purposefully off towards the far side of the valley. He takes about three steps before turning back to face them.
“Come on guys, we have to get moving,” he scoffs. “Do you think the other teams are just sitting around on their hands? No, they’re up and moving towards the target.”
“Mike, you can go that way if you want,” William responds, looking at the others. “But we’re going to go to the end of the valley. It’s your call, but make it quick, because we’re moving out now.” They stride off, leaving Mike sputtering in the heat. He may be the most decorated and the most liked by their captors, but William has begun to earn the others’ respect.
The terrain isn’t particularly rough, aside from some outcroppings of rocks littered about the valley floor. They find themselves walking on either packed dirt or smooth slabs of rock. It is very similar to walking through a parking lot—the ground is relatively smooth, but the sun is baking them like they are inside a blast furnace. And, like walking through a parking lot, there doesn’t seem to be a straight path between where they are and where they need to be, and instead of walking around parked vehicles, they have to circumvent rocks.
They had already begun sweating while simply standing still, but now that they are moving, the slight exertion is enough to leave them all panting and dreaming of cold water. It doesn’t take long for any thought beyond simply moving forward to fade from William’s mind, and so he is surprised when he looks back and sees Mike struggling to catch up. The small head start they gained while he was too indignant to follow has been translated by the heat into a nearly insurmountable divide. Recognizing that even if they don’t want him on their team, they might have a better chance of making it with him along than without him, William scans ahead for a place they can all rest while he catches up.
Passing around a particularly large rock formation streaked with the red of a faded mineral deposit, like some giant cleaned off his blood-covered fingers on it, William spies a shadow on its face. The wind over the years has eroded enough of an overhang that they should be able to squeeze in out of the sun while they wait.
“Guys, hold up, let’s rest a minute in that shade,” he directs from his position at the end of the line.
Only too happy for any small respite, they crowd into the small space. It isn’t any cooler, as the rocks and their own suits have plenty of heat to radiate back to them, but the reduction in glare is an improvement.
“There is no way we can last it out in this heat long enough to get anywhere, let alone out of sight of where they left us,” Jill says, eyeing the road back to the command post with envy.
“What we need is a place where we can stay out of the sun until it sets,” William says, scanning the path ahead for any form of shelter. He notices that beyond the next pile of rocks, the ground seems to slope down, and a higher ridge springs up beyond. There must be a ravine, he thinks. And where there are ravines in this kind of terrain, there should be a wash, hopefully complete with a few small caves, or at least a larger overhang.
As Mike makes his way up the slight incline to the where the team is, it is clear that he wants to argue or insult them for their choice, but the heat has drained him so much that all he can do is stagger into the meager shade, mumbling. Glaring at them, he sucks greedily from the hydration reservoir that is built into his suit.
“Here’s the plan,” William says, talking to the group but staring straight at Mike. “We’re going to scout that wash over there and look for some sort of overhang or cave where we can get out of the sun for the rest of the day and rest. Once it’s night, we’ll continue our search.”
“We should head that way,” Jackson says, pointing down the wash as it cuts across the width of the valley at a slight angle. “It looks like it goes somewhat in the right direction.”
Mike glares at Jackson and opens his mouth, but only a hoarse and unintelligible mutter comes out, the heat having sapped even his insatiable desire needle the larger man. When he notices William staring at him expectantly, he works his mouth like he is going to spit, but no liquid hits the dusty ground. They lock eyes until Mike’s will breaks and he stares sullenly at his feet. The exchange does not go unnoticed by the others, and William sees a look of approval on their faces as he turns to face back down the valley towards their objective.
Stepping back out into the sun takes all the will power that William can muster, but he does it, because he knows they won’t survive without some real shelter. At least the ground slopes downward towards the small gully. Still, with each step the ground seems to drag at his feet as the dirt gives and settles under him. Once at the edge of the gully, he sits down, allowing himself to slide down between the scruffy bushes to the parched bottom.
If anything, the air is hotter in the stream bed. The sun seems to want to beat them into the ground, and, unlike on the plain, there is no hot wind to provide the illusion of cooling. Looking back up the slope, William knows he wouldn’t be able to climb back to the top even if he tried, so he heads in the direction Jackson had indicated, while the rest of the team slides down after him.
The stream bed is covered in smooth baked mud and looks almost like a gracefully sculpted layer of brick. The bed is wide enough for two of them to walk beside each other, but none of them have the energy to catch up to the one in front, so they stretch out in a line, William, Jill, Florence, and Jackson, then significantly farther back is Mike. They are all staring at the ground in front of their feet, only occasionally looking up to scan their surroundings, and that is why William and Jill both miss it.
There is a gentle meander in the course, and, along the right side, a cliff has slowly risen up where the once roaring stream had eaten into the hillside. Along the face of the cliff, eddies in the stream have—over many cycles of storms—eroded large smooth pockmarks, but one of these marks is not as smooth as the others. It has a crack as tall as Jackson running through the middle. The bottom half of the crack is smooth from the where the water and wind have worn down the rock, but the top comes to a sharp point where the overbearing cliff rests above it. But what is really relevant to the exhausted group is that what was once just a crack in the rock has been widened enough that Jill’s shoulders can fit through, and the rest can make it if they turn sideways.
Too tired to speak up at first, Florence makes her way over to it and peers inside. A blessedly cool breeze toys with the sweaty strands of hair clinging to her face. That is all the proof she needs to call the others over.
“Guys, I think I’ve found something,” her voice is hoarse and faint, but in the still air, it travels easily.
Taking point, she leads the others into the cavern, feeling her way along the narrow crack. Initially, with eyes stunned by the glare of the creek
bed, the crack appears to be completely dark, but as her eyes adjust, the tunnel seems to resolve itself from the blackness. She slides between the rocks, and the passageway gets progressively narrower until she can barely squeeze through. Then she gets stuck.
Closing her eyes in exhaustion, she lets out a sigh. At least it felt good to get into some shade for a few minutes, but now, she thinks, it is back to the heat, glare, and dust outside. Opening her eyes, she looks longingly one more time back down into the cool darkness of the crack before telling everyone to turn around, but as she stares, she realizes that the darkness isn’t complete. There is a faint light illuminating the space beyond.
Florence pushes her way past the protrusions blocking her passage and nearly stumbles as the crack widens, bending slightly before opening into a small cave. It is lit, she realizes, by a shaft of light piercing through the roof. This must be where the small stream that had widened the crack poured in from the surface.
Illuminated by the ray of sunlight, Florence collapses in a niche against the wall and watches the others squeeze into the cave. They each have a different expression of relief on their faces as they enter. The rocks are cool to the touch as they sit upon them and allow the space to embrace them, cocooning them from the harshness outside.
*
William wakes because he is shivering, thirsty, and hungry. The cave is now completely dark. The small patch of sky visible through the hole in the roof shows a field of bright stars, but their light is not strong enough to illuminate more than the barest outlines within the cave. Sitting upright, William sips from his water reservoir. The taste of dust and sleep in his mouth coupled with the plastic of the container turn the fluid putrid, but the slightly warm and completely stale liquid is the best he has ever tasted.
Dedication (The Medicean Stars Saga Book 1) Page 19