by Finn Gray
“Let’s check on Recess,” Hunter said. As they approached, Recess looked up, eyes wide in alarm.
“Want to tell me what that was all about...sir?” he added belatedly.
“That was your training officer teaching you to fly under extreme duress,” Hunter said. “You passed.”
Recess sighed with relief. “Good to know, sir. A little advance warning next time would be nice.”
“That’s not how it works in combat and it’s not how it works in training. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain.”
Now that Recess had been seen to, Hunter and Sabre turned and walked far enough away that they could not be overheard. Sabre could not help but feel the eyes of the deck crew and fledglings on her. She wasn’t sure how many of them were buying Hunter’s explanation.
“Thanks for covering for me,” she said through a false smile. “What happens now?”
“Tell the other fledglings we’ll resume training tomorrow.” Hunter paused, a downcast expression on his face. “Right now, you and I are going to see the commander.”
“This is unacceptable,” Graves growled as he stared at Sabre and Hunter. He stood, hands resting on his desk, leaning toward his subordinates. His knuckles were white, his shoulders tense. “If I wanted you working on weapons systems I would have assigned you to that duty station.”
Sabre nodded, unable to meet his eye.
“Lieutenant Sabrakami, are you a member of the deck crew?”
Sabre shook her head. “No, Commander.”
“Do you think you can do a better job of weapons maintenance than the men and women who work on the systems every day?” He held up a hand forestalling her answer. “Scratch that. I already know you think you can do a better job than everyone else at pretty much anything.”
“I did think that until today.”
“And do you now realize that you were mistaken?” Graves rumbled, still barely able to contain his anger.
“I do, sir. At least when it comes to weapons systems.” The beginnings of a grin twitched at the corners of her mouth but wilted under the heat of his stern gaze.
“What possessed you, Serena?” He said, softer this time. “I understand you were looking out for your fledglings, but trying to do the work yourself? You should have asked the chief to do it if you had any doubts. Supervise his work if you don’t trust him. And that’s not even taking into consideration the breach in protocol. How could you do something so stupid?”
“I wish I knew, sir.” Serena’s voice was scarcely a whisper, so unlike her usual manner. “To tell you the truth, I barely remember doing it. I didn’t remember at all at first.”
“Is there anything you need to tell me?” Graves tensed, waiting for the answer.
Sabre shook her head. “I haven’t been sleeping much. The string of malfunctions, the worry over sabotage, it’s been keeping me awake. The doctor gave me something for sleep but it doesn’t help. I’m a zombie.”
Graves frowned. Sabre was an experienced pilot. She knew better than to get into the cockpit when suffering from the effects of prolonged sleep deprivation. But that wasn’t what bothered him the most.
“What’s this about a string of malfunctions?”
Hunter and Sabre exchanged confused glances. Hunter cleared his throat.
“Sir, there has been a string of malfunctions with the fledglings’ Cobras. A pattern, really.” He cleared his throat. “We are concerned that it might be a matter of sabotage.”
Anger burned through Graves and he slammed his fist down on the desk. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Sir,” Hunter began, “I fully briefed the XO. She ordered me...” He paused. “She said she would be the one to report to you. She was very specific about it. Wanted to follow the chain of command.”
Graves slowly nodded. He didn’t like what he was hearing. Why hadn’t Jordan reported to him? He supposed he wasn’t going to figure that out just standing here.
“Very well. I’ll get a full briefing from the XO.” He looked at Hunter. “You will oversee the remainder of the fledglings’ training. I believe they’re almost finished?” Hunter nodded. “Good.”
“What about me?” Sabre asked.
“You are on shore leave effective immediately,” Graves snapped. He took a small measure of satisfaction in her outraged expression. Sabre didn’t like shore leave any more than he did.
“The fuck I am!” Sabre sprang up from her seat. “Commander, all I need is some rest. I have a job to do.”
“Sit down, Lieutenant!” When it came to shouting, no one could match Dom Graves when it came to volume. Sabre obeyed immediately, albeit with the resentful frown. “Yes, you have a job to do and you failed at it. The two of you kept important information from me. And you nearly shot down one-third of your trainee class. One of my men.”
Sabre’s lips pressed tightly together and she folded her arms, but did not argue.
“In your present condition, you are incapable of performing your duties to my satisfaction. You will get your ass off of my ship until I decide I want you back. Understood?”
“Yes, Commander. Any recommendations on where I should take my leave? After all, you had such a good time on your last vacation.”
“I don’t give a damn,” Graves said. “The Empire twins are visiting Thetis. Why don’t you go party with them?”
Hunter let out a guffaw that he smothered in a fake cough.
Sabre glowered at Graves. “I’ll keep that suggestion in mind, sir. Any other orders?”
Gray shook his head. “You are dismissed.” Sabre stood, saluted, and stalked toward the door. “Lieutenant, I dare you to slam that door,” Graves warned.
Sabre paused, turned, and flashed her most sarcastic smile, and then gently shut the door behind her.
Graves stared at the door, half expecting her to come back in and start a row, but she didn’t return. Finally he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, sinking down into his chair.
“Is there anything else you need from me, sir?” Hunter asked.
“Yes,” Graves said. “Tell me everything about this suspected sabotage.”
Chapter 18
Camp Maddux
Hyperion
The sun beat down on the back of Rory’s neck. Mosquitoes, out in full force today, swarmed in a cloud around his face. He heard their high-pitched whine, felt the prickle as they bit his exposed skin, and resisted the urge to flinch when one brazen little bastard flew up his nose. He wanted nothing more than to swat them, but they were standing at attention just now, staring out at the final obstacle course of the day.
They’d begun with their weekly foray through the so-called “confidence course.” The series of walls, ropes, pits, and logs was designed to test speed, agility, strength, and balance. All recruits were expected to complete it in less than twelve minutes, and at this stage in their training, everyone who remained had exceeded that minimum expectation. The slowest finishers had been culled from the group and sent away for “remedial training” under the watchful eye of Sergeant Trent. The second course had consisted primarily of water obstacles, and Clancy had sent the bottom-feeders from that challenge off to join Trent. Now only twenty-six remained.
“This final course,” Clancy boomed, “will be an exercise in teamwork.”
Rory wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t missed the fact that their group could easily be divided into two squads of twelve, plus a squad leader.
Clancy let silence hang in the air as he paced back and forth in front of them. Finally, he stopped in front of Rory and gave a nod in his direction.
“First squad leader. Front and center.”
For a split-second Rory had an irrational fear that Clancy was talking to someone else, but their eyes were locked on one another’s. Clancy quirked an eyebrow as if to say, “What are you waiting for?”
“Aye, sir.” Rory took up a position in front of his fellow recruits.
Clancy moved a few steps down the row and stopp
ed in front of Cassidy. He fixed her with a long look that she returned with a blank stare. Rory thought he saw a glint of challenge in her eyes, but in fairness, she always looked like that. Finally, Clancy gave the tiniest shake of his head, more like a twitch, and moved on.
Rory gritted his teeth, bit back a curse. That was bullshit. He’d bested Cassidy in individual combat, and was a little bit better with the rifle, but she regularly eclipsed him in other areas. He didn’t know if she was more deserving than he, but he thought her equally worthy. His disappointment turned to disgust when Clancy chose Marson as the other leader.
Clancy quickly divided up the remaining recruits into two squads of twelve. Rory was pleased to have both Cassidy and Jemma in his squad. Sid had not been so lucky, having been assigned to Marson’s crew. They exchanged grins of commiseration as everyone took their places.
“Gonna kick your ass,” Sid said, low enough that Clancy couldn’t hear.
“Promises, promises.”
“Can you believe Cassidy?” a voice said in Rory’s ear. It was Jones. The big recruit’s expression was even more bemused than usual.
“It’s Clancy I can’t believe,” Rory replied, keeping his voice low. “If anyone deserves squad leader, it’s her. Why would he pass her over?”
“You didn’t hear them on the way over. Clancy said something to her about leading a squad and she refused.”
Rory frowned. “Refused? Why?”
“Not sure. She just kept saying, ‘No, sir.’ I’m surprised Clancy let her get away with it, but he finally walked off. I heard her mumble something about not being here for that. It was weird.”
Rory had no idea what to make of it. Why would one of the most dedicated, hard-working recruits decline a spot as squad leader? And why had a hardass like Clancy permitted it.
Just then, Clancy called out to them. “I forgot to mention. The team with the fastest time gets a night’s liberty.” This pronouncement should have been greeted with cheers, but instead a shocked silence fell over the recruits. They all turned to stare at Clancy in case he was joking. “Your squad’s official time will be that of the last recruit to complete the course, so leave no one behind.”
“I hope there won’t be much running,” Jones said. “I’m slow even when I’m not tired.”
Rory clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine.” Privately he agreed with Jones. The fellow was strong and steady, but hardly fleet of foot.
“You see before you two identical courses,” Clancy continued. “Each squad will begin at the same time. Line up and wait for my signal.”
So that was it. There would be no time to make a plan.
“Line it up!” Rory shouted, dashing to the mark. The others following along.
“What’s the plan, Plowboy? Excuse me, Squad Leader Plowboy,” Cassidy asked.
Rory made a quick scan of the course. He could only make out the first two obstacles. The first was a fifty-meter line of logs set a meter above a mud pit—a test of balance. Beyond was a square of dirt with rows of barbed wire strung just high enough above the ground that a big man could just manage to belly crawl underneath them. Jones would have trouble with both. He raised his voice.
“Cassidy goes first, Jones second, Jemma third, me last. The rest of you fill in. We’ll adapt as we go along.” The squad nodded and got ready to run.
Clancy began a countdown in a booming voice.
“Five... four... three... two... one...” He fired his sidearm into the air and the race was on.
As Rory had hoped, Cassidy set a good pace and led by example, moving with speed and grace. With Jemma’s encouragement, Jones made it across the first obstacle in good time and without slipping. They hit the barbed wire crawl and scrambled forward.
“Spread out and go!” Rory ordered, and the rest of the squad, save Jemma and himself, scurried along. “We’re right behind you, Jones,” Rory said. “Keep your fat ass down and go as quickly as you can. I’ll punch you in the nuts if you get stuck on the barbed wire.” The motivational tactic must have worked, because Jones kept his body low and barely slowed Rory and Jemma down as they crawled through the soft, damp earth. The rest of the squad waited to haul them out when they reached the edge. As he gained his feet he stole a glance in the direction of the other course. The two squads were neck and neck.
As they sprinted the twenty meters to the next obstacle, Rory saw it wasn’t an obstacle at all. Sergeant Lester stood there holding a rifle.
“The squad doesn’t move on until everyone hits one of the targets,” Lester said, handing Rory the rifle. In the distance stood a line of thirteen posts, each topped with a shiny globe. Rory had a good idea of the abilities of his squad and quickly organized them from best shooter to worst. As the first shooters took their turns, Rory used them as examples, pointing out the things they were doing right, for the benefit of the others who weren’t as adept with a rifle.
The first three shooters hit the mark with the first shot. When hit, the globes emitted a satisfying pop and a thin column of lime green smoke. As they worked their way through the squad, Rory guided the shooters as needed, and by the time he shot the last remaining target, Marson’s squad still had three shooters to go.
“Marson sent his people on ahead as they finished,” Jemma said as they ran to the next obstacle. “We might have fallen behind.”
“I don’t think we have.”
Up ahead stood a flagpole, the flag of the AIMPC flapping in the breeze at its top. The task was clear—climb up the pole and retrieve the flag. But Rory had a feeling that it wasn’t as simple as sending the ablest climber up to the top. This course emphasized teamwork. As they approached, he realized he saw he’d been right. A handful of Marson’s recruits stood around the flagpole while Sid struggled to shinny up it. Halfway up, he lost his grip and slid to the bottom.
Jemma laughed. “They greased the top half of the pole.”
“All they’ve managed to do is tire themselves out trying to climb it,” Rory said. “We need to work together on this one, too.” He quickly organized his group into a human ladder, and by the time Marson’s last recruit completed the shooting obstacle, Jemma was already scrambling up the straining bodies of her fellow squad members to retrieve the flag.
“It won’t take them long. They’ll copy our tactic,” Rory said to Jemma as she hit the deck. “We’d better hurry.”
The next course involved weaving around coils of concertina wire and clambering over and under logs, all the while dodging cannon fire. They didn’t face live shells, of course, but soft, rubbery projectiles that left nasty bruises whenever they found their targets. Rory immediately took note of the rate of fire and the pattern it followed—three seconds between shots, then five, then seven, then back to three. He shouted out the countdown for his squad and warned them when the shots were coming. By the time they completed the course, though a few of them nursed painful bruises or cut lips in spite of Rory’s leadership, they enjoyed a solid lead over Marson’s group.
After an exhausting climb up a muddy hill, they faced the final obstacle.
“The wall,” Cassidy said. “We know how to do this.”
Rory nodded. The trick was to work together to get everyone over, saving the best leaper for last. If everything worked as it should, although that person would have no one to boost him up, he would be able to jump high enough that his squad mates could catch him by the wrists and haul him. Or her, Cassidy reminded him when he said this aloud. They set to work, getting everyone up and over. When they finally got to Cassidy, whom Rory had saved for last, Marson’s group had three recruits still to go.
Fast on the wall, but not fast enough, Rory thought. Smiling, he looked down at Cassidy, who was now sprinting toward them.
“Get your ass on up here, Cass!” Jones shouted, leaning over the wall to help catch her.
Rory leaned forward too, and as he did, a bout of vertigo struck him. His head swam and he squeezed his eyes closed. Gods, what is wrong with
me? When he opened them again, he was no longer on the wall.
He was back home, leaning over a ledge high above Spruce Gorge, reaching, straining to grab hold of Caren’s hand. She hung there just out of reach, bloody fingertips clinging to an impossibly narrow crack in the rock. A sparkling band of water meandered through the bottom of the gorge far below.
“Help me!” she screamed. “Rory!”
“Plowboy!”
His consciousness snapped back to the present. Cassidy dangled below him, Jones straining to haul her up on his own.
“What in the hells are you doing? Dreaming of sheep? Help me!”
Waves of nausea roiling in his gut, his mind screaming against the memory he’d fought so hard to suppress, he reached down, caught his friend by the wrist, and pulled her over the wall.
“Marson’s only seconds behind us thanks to you,” she shouted. “Everybody run!”
She, Rory, and Jones leaped down off the platform at the back of the wall. The jolt as he struck the ground brought Rory back to full alertness.
“Everything you’ve got!” Rory yelled as they sprinted the last hundred meters to where Clancy waited. “And then add fifty percent!”
Calling on reserves he didn’t know he had, Rory dashed into the lead, his squad close behind. They ran, staggered, and fell victorious across the finish line. Even Jones, the slowest of the group, finished ahead of half of Marson’s squad members. As they roared and hugged, celebrating their victory, Rory turned, caught Marson’s eye, and smiled. It was petty, he knew, but it felt good to win.
“Congratulations, eggs,” Clancy said. “This squad will be granted a liberty for the night.”
“Sir, if this recruit may ask,” Jemma began, “where will this squad be going? Out in the swamp, sir?”
“You might say that,” Clancy said. “Your squad will be spending the night on the Island.”
This meant nothing to Rory but several of the recruits exchanged looks of surprise, even shock.
“Sir, the island?” Jones asked. “It exists, sir?”
Clancy grinned. “You’re god damned right it does.”