Why not try?
They had to walk to the next wing of the community complex and ascend two flights of stairs. She had trouble recalling the exact apartment, and still wasn't sure when she hit the buzzer. After she hit it twice more, a woman opened the door, looking at Shura and Kirill without a hint of recognition. "Yes?"
Shura gave her a brilliant smile. "Hi, Dorei. I'm sure you don't remember me, but maybe you recall that time a few months ago when your survey reports weren't uploading?"
Dorei hesitated, then recognition cleared her eyes and she gave a rueful smile. "I remember now. You're Shura, right?"
She tried to keep the relief from her voice: "That's me. Do you have a moment?"
Dorei nodded slowly. "Okay. Come in."
Shura led Kirill inside. The apartment was identical to hers except for the light blue walls. Dorei closed the door and came over. "So what's going on?"
"I need your help. I've been called in to work. They didn't update my work schedule and the daycare won't take my son. Is there any way you would be willing to watch him for a few hours? I'll be back before the evening."
Dorei's light smile faded. "I guess you figure I owe you one."
"No," Shura said. "I know it doesn't compare. I'm just asking for your help."
Dorei's tone was laced with irritation. "This is my day off. I haven't had one in eighteen days and I don't even know when I'll have another."
"I know. I'm really sorry. I'll be happy to cover a shift for you some time."
The other woman looked away. "Shit."
"Please," Shura whispered, her throat tight. "I don't have anywhere else to go."
Something got through to Dorei. She breathed deeply. "All right," she said, bending down to smile at Kirill. "He looks like a friendly guy." She waved at him. Kirill stared at her and lifted one hand in reply.
"Thank you. So much. You have no idea how much this means to me." She kneeled before her son. "Kiri, you're going to stay here with Dorei. She's very nice. Remember everything I told you, okay? I'll be back soon to pick you up."
She walked to the door, but his terrified voice stopped her: "Amannn...!"
She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to do this. She faced her son, holding his clay in both hands. "Kirill. Remember. You have to be brave." She turned away from his gleaming cheeks and fled the apartment. Once the door closed, she crouched down and choked back her sobs. Cheeks wet, she got up and ran, all the way up the stairs to the roof access door, pausing only to flip the lock open before running back down to her apartment. After collecting her bag and changing into her uniform, she raced to the tube platform underneath the complex.
The ten-minute ride through the tunnels gave her plenty of opportunity to contemplate her doubts. She figured the refugees living in the forest were probably real, since she couldn't be the first to try to escape the auditors, and surely some would have gotten away. Still, joining what would amount to a colony of criminals inspired a new set of reservations. She had no idea what kind of people they would be. Could she risk taking Kirill into such circumstances?
She shifted her stance where she leaned against the wall. Her usual shift started later in the day, so she didn't know most of the people standing or sitting in the tube car. A few glanced her way, no doubt wondering why she carried a bag. As usual, no one spoke, but she still kept her eyes averted and made sure her expression reflected her mood. Outside, the pitch of the air rushing past the vehicle changed in a telltale sign of another tube car passing by. The sound triggered a wave of claustrophobia. She tried to breathe through it, fighting off the panic.
She knew she had no choice if she wanted to live, if she wanted to keep her son with her. The fact that there was no legal way out of her situation still rose up to grip her throat at random moments. Still, a part of her relished the freedom of breaking the rules. She'd considered her plan over and over again, and she felt sure耀he knewit had a good chance to succeed. If she didn't screw up. If no one figured her out. If the auditor didn't return early. If everything went right, she would be free before nightfall. She just had to take a chance.
The doors slid open, revealing the bustling grey platform of the Communication Network Maintenance Depot and a pack of tired workers waiting to go home. She slipped out before anyone else, weaving through the crowd like any other day, bag held before her. Ahead, others converged on the lines for the check-in points. She went with the flow for a while, then cut between two stations and headed for the elevators. Her back tingled with tension and she fought to keep from looking back, trying to carry herself as she always did. She'd seen other people skip check-in before, but she'd never learned why. Hopefully, no one would think twice about seeing her do it.
When she finally reached the elevator and turned around, no one paid attention to her.
The vehicle hangar made up a third of the lowest above-ground level of the massive Network Communications building. By this time, the field maintenance shifts had already collected their vehicles and left. She found only the hangar supervisor in the office, working at his desk. The hangar beyond the tall windows stood mostly empty, the overhead lights illuminating only three bright red aircraft parked in a corner. Zinoviy looked up as she approached, the scowl on his bald, round head even deeper than usual. "What are you doing here?"
She dropped her bag and leaned on the counter, pouring all her frustration into her voice: "I'm having a shit day. I need a PAV checked out, right away. There's a bunch of relays out in the green sector, and they want me to go fix them."
His flat expression made it clear he'd been waiting for her to finish talking rather than listening. "You think you're having a shit day? Your idiot colleagues keep setting these things down like dirty laundry. I got three airborne vehicles with micro fractures in the landing gear that should be out making checks. And then I got three techs I'm being told aren't coming back, so I guess it all works out, except the work doesn't get done, and that's going to end up being my fault somehow. But please, tell me about your problems."
She gave a sigh, silently cursing herself for antagonizing the man. "I'm sorry, Zin. I know it's a messed up day for everyone. But I really need to get out there."
He frowned, glanced at his display. "I don't have a work order."
"That's..." She hung her head and shook it. "They call me out of bed for this shit and they can't even get the orders in right." She raised her eyes and gave him a long-suffering look. "It's a disaster up there, Zin. They're going to rip me to shreds if I don't get the damn things fixed, and they're not going to give a shit there was no work order."
Zinoviy shrugged. "I'll call Lavrenti―"
"I wouldn't," she blurted out. She swallowed and gave him her best wry smile. "I don't want you to get in trouble. He's busy chewing up the regional for letting this happen―he only stopped long enough to tell me where I'm going. It's your call, but I don't think he wants to hear from anybody right now."
Zinoviy looked suspicious. She added urgency to her voice: "Come on, Zin. I'm late as it is. They didn't even bother sending an updated schedule, so daycare wouldn't take my son. I had to leave him with some woman I barely know, and I just don't want to deal with any more shit. Can we just get this over with?"
His eyes hardened, and her gut tightened as she realized what he was going to say. "I got to confirm it, Shura. I can't just sign out PAV's on anybody's say-so. Besides, I don't even have a vehicle for you. Those aren't serviceable."
"I'm not anybody," she said, coloring her tone with disbelief. "We've been doing this for nine years." She came around the desk to stand behind him. "Can we check again? Maybe they just put it in."
Zinoviy turned back to his display. Before his hand could slip into the control glove, she stepped forward, grabbed his collar with both hands, and slammed his head into the desk with all her strength. He still moved, so she pulled him back and did it again. Blood leaked from his nose and a purple bruise spread across his forehead, but he was still breathing. "Asshole," s
he muttered as she pulled his chair back and gave him a shove, sending him toppling to the floor. It took a few more precious seconds to push him as far under his desk as she could manage. Her hands shook as she dug in his pocket for the key card. Once she found it, she grabbed her bag and ran out the door leading to the hangar, choosing the closest of the three sleek, twin-rotored PAV's. She tore off the service tag without another thought; heavy landings had never been her problem. With a swipe of the key card and confirmation of her credentials, the bright red aircraft hummed to life and initiated its preparations for flight. She left it working while she stuffed her bag into the tiny cargo compartment behind the cockpit, then ran to open the massive doors leading outside. Behind her, the engines awoke with a rising whine.
As soon as she'd run back and strapped herself in, a chime alerted her that the PAV was ready for flight. She took hold of the controls. "Come on," she muttered as the strip of daylight before her grew wider. The doors had only opened halfway when she nudged the control stick to pull her craft off the ground, then guided it forward and out through the gap.
Chapter Seven
Khariton sat glued to the barge's porthole and watched the titan Stalwart's cavernous docking bay race by until the black of space replaced it. As the barge began to maneuver, dozens of other supply craft peeled off, heading for different ships in the cylindrical formation ahead. Most sailed towards the oblong, wide-mouthed titan Victory at the heart of the task force, but Khariton's ship had a different destination.
The barge's movement brought Stalwart back into view just as its escorts detached from the massive ship's hull, slowly spreading out into a defensive formation. A smooth turn removed the titan from his sight. Seconds later, the barge's deceleration pushed him into his harness, until another docking bay cut off his view of the stars. The ship settled on the deck with a gentle shudder. Khariton shed his harness and stood waiting by the door, bag on his shoulder.
He was the first one down the ramp once it settled on the deck, and he made no effort to keep the smile off his face. The new uniform he wore and the company he was about to join made him so proud he felt like laughing in triumph. He felt less enthusiasm about the double crescents on his shoulders that identified him as a chief, but the upper five had insisted it would simplify his mission if they gave him a rank. They'd even granted him Supreme Command authority, though they'd been adamant he only use it under extreme circumstances that threatened his life.
The interior of the special assault ship Mitrofan reflected both its vicious past and the regimented nature of its operation. Equipment not in use sat restrained in organized spaces, gleaming from regular lubrication and maintenance. Gouges in the grey flight deck had been repaired with a lighter material, and one steel blue bulkhead showed clear signs of a heavy psych charge impact. Khariton knew everything the Commonwealth had learned about the floaters' ability to project kinetic force without the use of technology, an ability that rapidly gained in power depending on how many individuals combined their efforts, but he'd never seen the effects in real life. He breathed in the smell of grease and engine exhaust as a heavy loader slid by to unload the barge, and felt happier than ever before.
A woman clad in worn but immaculate advance guard black appeared from behind the loader. She stood a full head shorter than Khariton, a feature exaggerated by her wide hips and solid build, but her cool, self-assured bearing gave her a formidable appearance. Short, dark brown hair framed sharp, weathered features arranged in a polite, confident smile. "Are you Khariton?"
His smile widened. "Yes, I am. You are Chief Raisa of the 114th Advance Guards?"
Her expression changed from polite to amused. "Yes, I am." They shook hands. "Welcome to the Mitrofan. How was your trip?"
"Productive," he said. "I spent most of it in an empty cargo bay, practicing with the Adaptive Combat Suit. I've acquired a basic level of competence."
She raised an eyebrow. "How long were you on that ship?"
"Nine days."
The other eyebrow joined its companion. "That's pretty quick for ACS training."
"I learn quickly."
"Obviously. For your time with the 114th, I'm going to attach you to First Squad. You'll spend most of your time with them, and they'll help you if you have any questions. Shall we go introduce you?"
"That will be fine."
She preceded him across the flight deck, through a wide door into the Mitrofan's interior. "Guards ready," she snapped. "Line up."
They had entered an assembly room. Weapons and equipment in racks lined the walls, and a large display facing rows of benches dominated a third of the compartment. A high work table occupied the remaining space, surrounded by nine guards who had dropped their equipment and now trotted over to form a line. Khariton's heart beat faster.
"Guards, this is Chief Khariton, detached from the Supreme Command. He's going to be observing us for a while. We're going to make sure nothing happens to him. For as long as he's with us, his safety is our top priority. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," the nine said in unison.
Khariton came forward. "The nature of my assignment is secret, but it requires me to go wherever you go. Tomorrow, I'll need to see each of you for interviews about your personal experiences. I'm very excited to be working with you."
The expressions of his audience might have been chiseled in stone. His smile gone and sweat itching in his armpits, he stepped back.
"Back to it," Raisa said. The guards returned to their table. "Walk with me for a second," she said, and led him away. Once they were out of earshot, she turned. The hard look on her face almost made him reel back. "If you need my people for something, I expect you to tell me before you tell them. Is that going to be a problem?"
Blood rushed to his face. "I was told you would be informed as to what I would need."
"That doesn't mean you can dictate the order of proceedings around here. I run this unit. If you need something, you come and talk to me about it. I'll make it happen without interfering with other responsibilities." Her eyes tightened. "They might have made you a chief, and you might be my equal on file, but there's only one in charge. Do you understand?"
Some of his embarrassment turned to anger. "This rank means nothing to me. They gave it to me because they thought it would help. I certainly didn't agree."
Her expression softened a little. "Well, here you are, and you have a rank, whether you like it or not. Those guards over there knew the second they saw you that you didn't earn it. What are you going to show them?"
He looked away, torn between his need for her support and the demands of his shame. "I'll consider that. When would be a good time to conduct the interviews?"
She folded her arms. "How long are they going to take? What are you going to ask them, anyway?"
"Personal experiences and views on combat, hardship, loss, the enemy, their colleagues, and so forth. I expect each one will take about half an hour, but a lot depends on their responses."
"Okay." She studied him. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, but I'll set it up for tomorrow. For now, let's show you where you'll be sleeping."
The next day, Khariton sat in a tiny cabin across from another man. His file gave his rank and name as Volunteer Moisey. Khariton smiled at him, but the expression on the bald man's rough, square face remained passively disrespectful. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions about your life as a guard. They're going to cover some of your reactions to things you've experienced. You can be as thorough in your answers as you like." He might have been alone in the room for all the reaction he got. "Can you tell me about your career as a guard? Where you started, where you fought, and so forth?" He already knew these things from Moisey's file, but he hoped it would get him talking.
Moisey aimed a nod at the tablet in Khariton's hands. "Don't you have my file right there?"
"It's a little vague on some of the specifics," he said. It was technically true, but the near-lie left him feeling exp
osed. "I'd like to hear it from you."
After a moment's cold stare, the guard rattled off his postings. "Started in the 237th Guard Regulars during the Illarion invasion. I was selected for the advance guards after that. I trained for two years, then I was assigned to the 114th. Went to..."
Khariton watched his face as he talked. Insolence and challenge dominated his expression, as if he meant to demonstrate he could answer Khariton's questions all day long and never give him anything to work with.
The guard's voice hastened for a moment, and he glossed over the 114th's action at Ravelin. Khariton waited a few seconds before casually glancing down at the tablet. The company had taken heavy losses in the battle.
"That was last week," Moisey said, ending his ramble. He crossed his arms and glanced at the door.
Khariton nodded. "You've had quite a career. Can you tell me more about the fighting at Ravelin?"
Moisey looked away. "Like what?" he demanded.
"Was it a difficult fight?"
He scoffed and shook his head. "You don't know."
"So help me understand," Khariton said quickly.
With a brief sigh and raised eyebrows, Moisey said, "We were supposed to capture a floater detector array. We got called back because the floaters attacked the base we'd staged at. By the time we got there, they already had troops inside the base. We were there for thirty-seven days. Then they gave up. That's it."
"Did you lose any friends there?"
"I don't have friends," Moisey said, staring at the bulkhead. "Nobody does."
"Comrades, then?"
Moisey nodded without moving his eyes. Khariton waited, fighting the urge to speak or change the subject.
"It was a mess. Mostly we fought inside, but whenever the fleet controlled the orbit, we'd try to flank 'em by going around outside. Them, too, every time they drove off the fleet stew." He cleared his throat, his gaze still glued to the same patch of bulkhead. "We did a recon in force, trying to find a clear path. The whole battalion waited to attack if we did. I was... supposed to give distant cover. Me and some other guys. I changed our position to get a better angle. They came under fire while we moved. Couple guards went down."
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