The instructor gave a bitter snort. “Tough as nails, huh?” He reset the hammer of his Piercer and holstered it back onto his waist. “We’ll see about that.”
Sibylla felt a wash of relief as he walked away.
“You see,” Anais whispered. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Oh no,” Sibylla said. “Not at all.”
“Alright, listen up!” the instructor called out. “For those of you who weren’t here yesterday, the name’s Instructor Williams. I don’t put up with shit, and I don’t put up with cowards. If I catch you messing up, I’ll put you down myself.” He patted the Piercer at his waist and let out a menacing grin.
“Here at the Nest, we have our own set of rules. We ain’t as nice as the Marines, we ain’t as sweet as the Army. We don’t steer ships, and we don’t dig trenches. We drop. We fight. We die. That’s it. That’s all. Now, who here knows our motto?”
One of the recruits, a young woman with tanned skin and light blond hair, raised a hand.
“You, Goldilocks,” the Instructor called out. “Let’s hear it.”
The woman straightened, rolled her shoulders back and roared out: “From high we fall; with hell we bring!”
“That’s right,” the Instructor agreed proudly. “From high we fall; with hell we bring. Now, for those of you pussies who missed the first day of training because you either broke an arm, ruptured a lung, or got shot in the leg, training will last a period of six months. It’ll be the hardest six months of your life. You’ll learn strategy, military tactics, and advanced combat techniques. Everything you thought you knew about fighting, killing and dying will be nothing but a prep course after we’re through with you. So, work hard, stay focused and maybe you’ll survive.”
Sibylla glanced at the other recruits, expecting to find them as mortified as she was. But they weren’t. They stood with their backs straight, their gazes forward, appearing to relish in the promise of Williams’s words. Is this what they wanted her to become? A die-hard killer with no regrets?
“Now,” Williams continued. “Over the next six months, you’ll be tested in a series of military simulations—war games. Platoons will face off against each other using the strategies and tactics they learn in the classroom. The platoon with the most wins will be awarded the title of First Platoon, while its leader will earn the rank of Commander.”
Sibylla’s eyes narrowed. She’d heard about this from her father. Commanders were given great privileges, one of which was immunity from prosecution during Wartime. That could be something she could use. But there was no way she could compete for that.
“Now, I’m not going to lie to you,” Williams said. “Some of you won’t last. In fact, some of you will die. But it’s the greatest honor an Eagle can receive.” He punctuated the statement with crossed arms, forming the sign of the Eagle. When he was done, he glanced at the computer monitor recessed in the forearm of his exo-suit, and began to read off of the screen. “Now, based on yesterday’s selections—”
“Sir?” yelled a woman from somewhere in the back.
The ranks of soldiers turned around, searching to see who’d been brave enough to interrupt the instructor.
“Who said that?” Williams barked out. “Step forward!”
Sibylla watched as a female recruit marched out from the ranks. With her head held high, she gave off the impression of pure confidence. As she reached the Instructor, she removed her helmet, allowing a mane of thick black hair to fall to her shoulders, and Sibylla saw that it was Varya Sokolov.
Williams’s eyes narrowed. “Sokolov?”
“I’d like to invoke my right to challenge, sir.”
A murmur passed amongst the crowd, as recruits began trying to make sense of it all. Even Williams looked confused. He paused, glanced at the veterans standing behind him, then back to Varya. “But it’s only the second day, private,” Williams said with a laugh. “There’ll be time to challenge later.”
“Later is too late, sir,” Varya said, the hint of a smile curling at the edge of her mouth. “A leader leads.”
“What’s going on?” Sibylla asked.
“It’s the Challenge,” Anais answered. “Every recruit has the right to challenge for leadership of their platoon. If they win, they lead.”
“And if they lose?” Sibylla asked.
“That depends on the winner,” Tayshaun volunteered from behind, but Yumiko quickly silenced him with an elbow to the ribs.
“What do you mean?” Sibylla asked.
“It means that the victor has the right to kill or maim their opponent,” Anais answered.
“That’s horrible,” Sibylla said. “But why?”
“It’s the Eagles way of teaching consequence. For every great opportunity, there’s a great risk.”
Sibylla let the words linger in her mind. “All of this just to lead?”
Anais answered with a shrug.
Sibylla looked back to the Instructor. He was idling before Varya, considering her request. There seemed to be a hint of reluctance on his part, she noticed, as if he was concerned about something. What was it? Her safety? “You sure about this, Sokolov?” he asked.
“Yes, sir!” she answered.
Williams conceded with a sigh. “Alright then. If this is what you want, the this is what you get.” Lifting his head, he called out the name, “Lockley!”
The front line of recruits scattered to the sides as a giant of a man lumbered out. He was tall, at least seven-foot, and his arms were as thick as cinder blocks. Lifting the visor of his helmet, he shot a loogey at the ground, stopping a couple of yards short of Varya. “You remind me of my first girlfriend,” he grunted with a sneer. “She was pretty also, but I killed her anyway.”
It was obvious why no one had challenged him the day before. Varya must’ve studied him, figured out his weak spots. Which meant that she was smart, and, up to a point, patient. Even so, what did she really expect to do against a guy this big?
Varya met Lockley’s threat with a look of amusement. She was enjoying it, relishing it like a vampire gazing upon a bare neck.
Lockley reached for the blade at his back and tapped it threateningly against the palm of his hand. Blades had become an essential part of the American military. As both the U.S. and Russia had learned during the war, guns could run out of ammo, vehicles could run out of gas. But blades…they were eternal.
A silence fell over the ranks as Varya just stood there, refusing to even fall into a fighter’s stance.
“Why doesn’t she unsheathe her blade?” Yumiko whispered, even she unable to keep her composure.
The air was thick with tension and recruits began exchanging worried glances.
“I don’t know,” Tayshaun answered.
Sibylla stared in silence, captivated by the sight of the two recruits as they stood face-to-face. Were they actually going to fight?
Eventually, Williams stepped between the pair, glancing at each one for a second. “Okay, you two. You know the rule: the last to stand is the first to lead. Now, let’s get it on!”
Lockley wasted no time. He galloped across the field like a thoroughbred, crossing the distance in a matter of seconds. As large as he was, he moved like a man half his size, quick, nimble, with a low center of gravity.
His first swing was hard. It went for Varya’s head. But she ducked at the last second, able to avoid the attack completely. Stepping to the side, she spun around his back, appearing behind him like a ghost.
A collective, “whoa!” lifted from the crowd as recruits goggled at her in awe.
Varya was exceptional. No, unbelievable. She shifted effortlessly from side-to-side, utilizing the strength of the suit while surpassing its clumsy limitations. And all of it so effortlessly, so playful. At one point, Sibylla was sure that she’d caught the woman laughing.
Lockley let out a deep snarl as he continued his attacks. Swing after swing, he tried to hit her, often tripping over himself as he tried to do so.
&nbs
p; Eventually, as if bored, Varya came to a halt. She stood still in the middle of the field, allowing Lockley a clear shot at her. He brought up his blade with a yell and swung it down at her head like an axe.
The strike was incredibly fast, but Varya was faster. She stepped to the side, dodging it completely, and a dull thud sounded as his blade sunk into the ground where it disappeared to the hilt.
Lockley yanked frantically at the blade, as Varya circled around him. He tugged at it, jerked it forward and back, straining with all of his might to budge it loose. But it wouldn’t move.
Amazing, Sibylla thought, her skin growing cold. Varya had completely manipulated the man with his own strengths, using them to break him in like a wild horse. She was even more dangerous than Sibylla had thought.
Coming up from behind, Varya kicked Lockley in the leg, snapping the frame of his exo-suit and cracking his shin in the process. Blood spurted from the wound. Bones ripped through his skin. And Lockley let out a violent cry of pain that made Sibylla turn away.
This wasn’t a duel, Sibylla realized. Not some challenge between two gentlemen squabbling over honor. This was something else entirely. It was primal, savage, a test to earn the right to lead the tribe.
To Lockley’s credit, though, he continued to fight, hopping on one leg as he swung at Varya with aimless punches. But it in the end, it wasn’t enough. He fell to a knee and bowed his head, sucking up enough strength to look up at her in defiance. “Go ahead,” he said. “Do it.”
Without a word, Varya caught his arm and snapped it against her knee. His head fell back as he roared out in pain, and his eyes began to flicker as he verged on passing out. Dropping to the ground, half of his body incapacitated, he could only glare up at the porcelain brunette, as she gloated before him.
“You think this is over?” he roared. “It’ll never be over. I’ll—”
He never finished.
Varya kicked him in the head so hard that his helmet flew through the air. It tumbled along the ground until it finally landed at Sibylla’s feet, where she could see a couple of broken teeth inside.
Horrified, Sibylla looked up and found Varya staring at her with a grin.
14
Dinner
When they’d finished for the day, Sibylla rushed to join the other recruits as they trudged across the field toward the mess hall. The long day of exercise and drills had left them feeling weak. Sibylla was no exception. Her legs trembled and she felt lightheaded. She needed to eat something soon, or else she was going to faint.
On the other side of the field, a group of helicopters landed upon a grass lawn, where they began to unload men and women dressed in white lab coats. The G.P.T.O.? Sibylla paused at the sight, wondering what they were doing there.
“There you are,” Anais said, nearly knocking her over as she bumped shoulders with her. “I was looking for you.”
“Congratulations,” Sibylla said. “You found me.”
“Wow, you don’t sound very happy.”
“I’m not. I’m exhausted.”
“You’ll get used to it. We all do.”
Sibylla climbed the steps of the entrance, noting the pain in her thigh was almost gone. It was the exercise, she knew. As the doctors had explained, the more she worked the muscle, the faster it would heal. At this rate, her thigh was going to be like steel before the end of the week.
The training was excruciating. Recruits were made to march in tightened formations over the fresh lawns and graveled roads of the Nest. It was tedious practice. But one that Sibylla could survive. When they were done, they headed back to the infirmary where tech engineers removed their exo-suits, allowing them to grab a quick bite at the mess hall. But after lunch, it was back to hell.
Williams and his men rounded recruits up like cattle, herding them in to a high-tech gym called the Forge, where they were taught the intricacies of combat training. Instructors with thick muscles threw recruits around like rag dolls, beating them senseless, then making them do it again. After that, they were sent to the gym, where they were made to lift weights.
As a reward, recruits were allowed to spend the rest of the day at the indoor practice range, where they fired live rounds at holographic images. Luckily, those who’d missed the first day were forced to do wind sprints, a punishment that Sibylla was more than happy to endure.
When they reached the mess hall, Sibylla found a large cafeteria bustling with hungry recruits. Men and women stood in long lines with plastic trays, glaring hungrily through the glass shields at the steaming food.
Sibylla caught the rich scent of buttered bread and mashed potatoes and felt her mouth quickly water. It felt like weeks since she’d last eaten. And she wanted to stuff her face right then and there.
“What are you going to get?” Anais asked.
Sibylla wasn’t sure. For lunch, she’d only eaten some oatmeal and a couple of rolls. She wasn’t used to having such a selection. Especially when it came to meat. Meat wasn’t something that was readily available in the outside world. The earth’s population had grown to such a size that, even with the large casualties of the war, meat producers couldn’t meet the population’s needs. But here at the Nest, it appeared that the military had gone to great lengths to secure a natural protein source for their soldiers.
Sibylla’s stomach grumbled as she feasted her eyes on the selection. She saw grilled steak, fried chicken, roasted salmon, spaghetti with meatballs. The list went on.
Choosing a steak with a bone in the shape of a T, she scooped up two helpings of mashed potatoes, a couple of dinner rolls and a large piece of chocolate cake with a glass of red juice on the side. It was unbelievable.
“You want to slow down there?” Anais joked.
Sibylla ignored her, choosing to finger the dark frosting of the cake and give it a lick. Delicious….
As they got their food, they took their trays back to one of the tables, where the rest of their platoon was sitting. Faces turned as she and Anais drew nearer and it occurred to her that the entire table was looking at her. Her tactic on the transport had apparently backfired. Now, she felt like the main attraction at a freak show.
“Hey!” Yumiko called out from the edge of the table, catching Sibylla’s attention. “Over here!”
Sibylla hesitated as she watched the Asian soldier pointing to the seat next to her. Invitations wasn’t something she was used to, especially amongst the military. It was all so…weird. But she knew she couldn’t refuse the offer. Nodding, she managed a smile, then stopped as she realized that there was no place for Anais to sit.
“What about Anais?” Sibylla asked.
“Who cares,” Yumiko replied, crunching into a piece of fried chicken and wiping her greasy lips with the back of her sleeve. “Let her find her own seat.”
Unsure of what to do, Sibylla and Anais stood idle for a few seconds.
“Over here!” Tayshaun said, waving at the seat next to him.
Anais arched a brow in interest, clearly excited at the prospect of sitting so close to the handsome young man. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Sibylla snorted. “He’s all yours.”
Sibylla sat across from Yumiko, placing her tray on the table and reaching for her utensils. The food looked excellent. She wanted to scoop it up in her hands and start devouring it all. But she had more control than that.
Taking her time, she cut into her steak, stacking it with a pat of mashed potatoes, and took a bite. The taste was amazing. She smiled as a rush of warm juices filled her mouth, and she quickly went back to cut another piece.
The closest that she and Dillon had ever gotten to eating something like this was when her father had given her a dehydrated steak he’d stashed away from one of his tours. But that was nothing compared to this.
“So,” Yumiko said. “What’d you think?”
“About what?” Sibylla asked, taking another bite.
“Your first day?”
Sibylla swallowed. To be honest, she
wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to tell them that she hated it, that she detested every second of it, that she wished that she could leave this place and go back home to Dillon, where they could live their old lives again. But she didn’t. Instead, she gave a shrug and said, “I’ve had worse.”
“Liar.”
Sibylla looked and saw Tayshaun grinning with a roll stuffed in his mouth.
“Yeah,” Yumiko agreed. “I thought you were going to die out there today.”
“You did look pretty bad,” Anais said reluctantly.
Sibylla shrugged, as she took another bite of her steak. “I’ll be okay.”
Sibylla was about to take her first sip of juice when she noticed Koda staring at her from a few seats down. He was eating a plate of tacos dripping with sour cream, red sauce, and melted cheese. She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d given her the dream catcher, but every once and a while, she’d catch him staring at her from the side, watching her as if there was something on her face. What was he looking at?
“Crazy about Varya, huh?” Tayshaun asked.
Sibylla took a sip of her juice, feeling her appetite begin to sour. The thought of Varya was like a cramp. She cringed as she thought back to when the brunette had snapped Lockley’s arm, leaving him defenseless on the ground. It had been so brutal.
“I thought she was going to kill that dude,” a young man, with a shaved head, said. Sibylla wasn’t sure, but she thought she’d heard someone call him, Charlie.
“She did,” a young woman with kinky hair said.
Sibylla straightened in her seat, pausing as she held her fork just short of her lips. “Are you serious?”
“Of course,” the woman replied. “You really think the human head could withstand a blow like that from an exo-suit?”
Sibylla shuddered at the thought, remembering how bloody Lockley’s broken teeth had appeared at her feet. Between the Drop, the stream and now today, so many people had died, that she couldn’t imagine how any of them were going to make it by the end of the month.
Sibylla of Earth Page 11