The Rogue Spark series Box Set

by Cameron Coral

  When I first signed up to be in the military, I thought I might fly around in cruisers and rescue people like Tyren did when he saved me. But it turns out, I’ll actually be in a war.

  I ship out in a few weeks. Where I’m going is secret. I’m scared shitless, Reed. If there’s any way you can get news or other information, you should try.

  Stay safe and write soon.

  Ida S.

  26 January 2040

  Dear Ida,

  This letter may reach you before I get yours. I couldn’t wait any longer.

  Strange things are happening here. The adults are acting nervous, and they seem scared. Some supervisors have stopped showing up, and I could smell alcohol on Nurse Tilda’s breath one day.

  Kilpatrick is still lurking around. He’s an even bigger creep than before, if you can believe it. This letter may not even make it to you—I begged Nurse Tilda to mail it after she left work, so Kilpatrick wouldn’t intercept it. If he finds this, I’ll get in big trouble. She agreed, but it’s hard to trust people around here. Hell, you know that.

  They’re still taking kids away—even more than before. Now, they don’t even pretend that couples are adopting them. A cruiser arrived yesterday and took ten kids!

  Do you remember Rian? She was a short girl with blond pigtails?

  They were about to take her, and I stood up to Kilpatrick.

  I said, “She’s too young—only six years old. You can’t take her.” He was pissed at me because I yelled it in front of the strangers who were taking the kids. He tried to ignore me and push me away, but I remembered what you said about standing up to bullies. I shoved her behind me and blocked them. Kilpatrick gave me the evil eye, but he picked another girl and they took her instead.

  At least I saved Rian. For now.

  Woodlawn was bad enough, but it’s really going to hell now. Wish you were here. You’d know what to do.

  But don’t worry too much. Just keep working hard in basic training and get a good place in the military.

  Someday, I’ll find you again.

  Reed

  4 February 2040

  Dammit, Reed. I said keep a low profile. But you didn’t get my letter in time obviously.

  I’m glad you saved Rian, but that was risky as hell! They could have taken you. If I ever lay eyes on Kilpatrick again, I will ring his slimy little neck. What a raging piece of human garbage.

  As soon as I saw your letter, I showed it to Tyren and begged him to help you and the other kids at Woodlawn. He was worried and said he would send word to his colleagues in NYC to investigate. Help should be on its way soon.

  By now, news of the Heavies must have reached you. The reason all the adults are acting crazy is that an alien species has invaded. I found out about them shortly after starting basic. The Affiliated Nations blocked the news from the media for a while. They didn’t want to start a panic.

  But, it doesn’t matter because everyone knows now. The news spread. I’ve been learning more about the species from special training that only the military has.

  The creatures are scary, Reed. I’m not gonna lie. Their tech is advanced—there’s a huge spacecraft over the Middle East where they’ve “parked” for some reason. For them to have been able to travel here—nobody knows exactly how they made it so far. There aren’t any other planets with life near enough. Do you have any idea how? You were always into space and geek stuff. I’m sure you have a theory.

  When Tyren’s men come to help you (and arrest Kilpatrick), ask them to join Space Guard. I think you’d be perfect there. The world needs help to fight the Heavies before they kill us all.

  Keep your head down.

  Ida

  12 February 2040

  Ida,

  I’ll keep this short. I think this is my last chance to write you. Tilda agreed to send this final letter (I’m in her office writing it now). She’s leaving Woodlawn for good. Said it’s too dangerous where we are on account of looting and rioting, and she’s going to stay with her family out in the country.

  I thought about going with her, but I don’t want to leave Rian and the other younger kids behind. They have no one but me to look out for them.

  Nobody came to investigate Woodlawn. At least, I don’t think they did. Maybe Kilpatrick paid them off.

  The place has gone to shit. Nearly every adult quit, and Kilpatrick is using robotic flying drones to control us. A bunch of kids have an escape plan. I’m going with them and taking the younger kids.

  Not sure where we’ll end up, but it’s got to be better than here.

  Until we meet again,

  Reed

  17 February 2040

  Reed,

  No idea if you’re still at Woodlawn. You’re brave for leaving. And for looking out for the younger kids.

  But I’m worried. Make sure to write ASAP. Tyren says I’ll get your letters for another two weeks.

  My time is drawing near to ship out. I received my orders, and I’ll be serving as a medic.

  I’ll get more training once we arrive at our base. I’m nervous. Wish me luck.

  There’s something I haven’t told you. The place where I was imprisoned was a medical lab. They did experiments on me.

  I got some side effects from something the doctors put inside me. Tyren knows about it, but he’s the only one. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to tell you more. It’s a secret for now, and I want to keep it that way.

  I never want to end up a lab rat again.

  Seriously, I can’t believe all that’s happened in the months since I left Woodlawn. I’m sorry to hear about the looting and rioting. People suck. I guess the A.N. was right about the masses panicking about the invasion.

  Be careful out there—okay? Hey, if you make it to NYC, go to Hell’s Kitchen. There’s an old, abandoned post office. Find it and ask around for a girl named Joanie. Tell her you’re my friend. She’ll help you out.

  Tyren says I won’t be able to write you again for a long time. I’ll be very far, and they can’t send messages or use comms for fear that intel will leak.

  If I ever get to take leave, I’ll come to New York, if I can.

  I’m sorry how things ended up for you. I hope we meet again soon.

  Your friend always,

  Ida Sarek

  Twenty-Five

  The ones you remember are the ones you can’t save.

  -Anonymous combat medic

  6 Months Later

  Spangdahlem Air Base, Germany

  I dashed across the grassy quad to the hospital, ignoring the latest message from the vibrating biocuff wrapped around my wrist. Jenna’s fifth attempt.

  “On my way,” I spoke into the comm, still not accustomed to the curved AI band that monitored my biostats—and whereabouts.

  The gray sky above threatened frost, and I crammed my hands into my uniform pockets for warmth. Glimpsing the towering pine trees surrounding the base, I smiled. The sight of the mysterious, dense forest never grew old.

  I reached the hospital entrance and jogged in place as an AI scanned my face. After the doors slid open, I climbed the stairs two at a time. Upon reaching the second-floor corridor, I slowed to a brisk walk, smoothed my recently cropped red hair, and calmed my breath.

  A group of six fellow trainees huddled together in front of supervisor Merck. In the middle of a lecture, he didn't break flow when he saw me, but raised an eyebrow. I tried to blend in next to Jenna, who shot me a peeved glance.

  “… and that’s why you need to be sure the limb is stabilized first using a splint and padding, and only then do you apply the cold pack and elevate the extremity,” Merck said. He paused and made a note on his digital tablet.

  I thought I might escape a lecture, but no. “Sarek,” he said. “You’re ten minutes late.”

  “Sir, yes… I was taking a special training—”

  “I did not ask for an explanation.”

  I fought against the words bursting from my mouth. “But, sir. I tried to get here
as—”

  “Quiet!” Merck had never warmed to me. I was the only student who volunteered to study combat protocols—during my free time. Unlike the other medic trainees, I didn't grow up wanting to be a doctor. In fact, the sight of blood made me queasy. But the higher ups had chosen for me.

  Was it my fault I got along better with the grunts than I did the medics? Except for Jenna Duncan, my only friend here.

  “Sarek, you’ve lost rec room privileges for the rest of the week,” Merck said.

  I started to protest, but Jenna squeezed my wrist and glared at me.

  “One more outburst from you,” he continued, running a hand through his buzz-cut blond hair, “and it’ll be two weeks.”

  Staring at my boots, I accepted my punishment. Loss of rec room privileges meant being stuck in my bunk with nothing to do except study the ceiling or, worse, read medical books—which felt as exciting as swimming in mud.

  Finally, he turned his attention to the other students. “Now, follow me. We’ll start our rounds.”

  The group shuffled forward, and I followed with sagging shoulders.

  Jenna fell in step beside me. “Where were you?” she whispered.

  I kept my voice low. “A soldier showed me a new guided drone weapon system.” A smile escaped my lips. “It was badass.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll never understand why you’re so attracted to combat training.”

  “We're going into a war, or did you forget?”

  “But we’re noncombatants. Medics are protected under the Geneva Convention.” She pushed a loose strand of curly raven-black hair behind one ear. “Merck says combat is beneath our station.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don't care what Merck thinks.” But I resisted going off on him; she had a crush. Tugging her arm, I held her back, letting the group get farther ahead. “I don't want to be in the field not knowing how to defend myself. Imagine being the only one in your squad who can't launch a weapon system or lead an attack.”

  “That's someone else’s job. My job is to save lives.”

  I shook my head. Jenna—so pretty, bright—and delusional.

  “Come on. Let’s keep up,” she said and strode faster.

  But I wouldn’t let it go. “Sure, in the past wars—when humans fought other humans—medics didn’t have to fight. They could focus on medicine. But now… everything has changed.” I leaned over and grabbed her shoulder. “We're fighting aliens for chrissakes. It can’t hurt to know the combat side of war.”

  She shushed me as we neared the group. Inside a hospital room, Merck lectured as he checked a patient’s progress. Outside the doorway, Jenna craned her neck to listen, though I barely understood a word. My thoughts lingered on my last conversation with Captain Tyren on the holofeed. He’d looked exhausted. Worn down. His deployment location was classified and had required a day’s travel. With no communication in two weeks, I worried.

  A warning siren blared, making me jump. Circular blue lights flashed along the hospital ceilings. Merck pushed himself through the group and stood across from me.

  “A training test,” he said, glaring at me. The others, including Jenna, huddled around him for instructions. “I told you all about this. It’s an exercise to prepare for an emergency. Luckily, today is a drill. If those sirens flashed red, it would be the real thing. Go to your stations and prepare. You know your roles. You’ll be evaluated on your performance, and that will influence your next assignment.” Merck narrowed his eyes at me, then strode away.

  “Oh my God!” Jenna reached out and squeezed my upper arm. “Isn't this exciting?”

  “About as exciting as getting a tooth pulled.”

  “Oh, come on.” She nudged me down the hall to our station—a first-aid area where the triage nurse would assign us non-life-threatening cases, such as cuts, bruises, and breaks.

  Jenna stiffened as we entered the pale-blue clinical room. “Be on your best behavior,” she whispered. “Today is important. This determines where we get stationed next.”

  “I know. I wish we didn't have to leave this base.”

  She smiled. “If we're lucky, we'll both be sent to the same place.”

  “Maybe,” I said, pinching my nose at the strong whiff of disinfectant.

  We busied ourselves preparing first aid supplies, setting up beds, cots, sheets, and blankets.

  The triage nurse checked on us. “Ready, ladies?”

  I nodded, and Jenna answered formally, following protocol.

  In two high corners, small cameras captured our movements—probably our conversations, too. I glanced at one and broke out in a sweat knowing someone was watching.

  Soldiers had to give up privacy. Still, I had to be careful when using my touch. As we waited, I figured out where to position patients so my back faced the camera—out of view of prying eyes. Even Jenna didn't know about my nanotech implants.

  So far, I’d had little need for them. Except for a few weeks ago, when a heart attack victim had come in. As Merck had tried to resuscitate the man, I’d rested a hand on his shoulder and concentrated. No one had noticed the nanobots that had traveled to his chest and repaired the damage. The patient had lived. Yet, Merck had been angry—he’d been yelling at me to leave, but I hadn’t heard him; I’d been so focused. Afterward, he’d written me up, and I’d lost rec room privileges for a month.

  Our first drill “victim” limped in through the door.

  Jenna rushed over. “What happened?”

  He leaned against her and removed his helmet. “I was running, and a bullet grazed me.” He clutched his side, pointing to a pretend wound near his abdomen.

  “Here, sit.” She guided him to a low bed.

  Two more people dashed in, complaining about other fake injuries.

  “Ida,” Jenna said, “Tend to the bullet wound victim. Administer first aid. I’ll see to the others.”

  She was good at this. Not only would she be an able medic, but she’d train others too.

  Nodding, I carried a supply kit over to the soldier, then rifled through the supplies and peered up at him. “What's your name?”

  “Williams.”

  “Where does it hurt?”

  “On my side.” He lifted his shirt up to reveal a red X drawn with a magic marker.

  “Nice abs. Here. Take this bandage and apply pressure,” I said, handing him gauze.

  He smirked. “Aren’t you supposed to do that?”

  I rolled my eyes. “This is pretend.”

  His smirk became a grin. “You have quite the bedside manner, you know.”

  “Are you gonna report me?”

  He leaned in, dropped his voice a level. “How about you go out with me later, and I won't say a word?”

  Williams, with his hawkish nose, stubbly jawline, and six-pack, was cute, but I didn’t want to start something right now. After a few awkward seconds of me ignoring his comment, he shifted his feet and winced.

  “What was that look for?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I twisted my ankle earlier today on a run.”

  “Why didn't you say so? Heaven forbid, a real injury.”

  “I tried ice, thought I could shake it off, but it still hurts.”

  “Let me see.” He kicked off his boot, and I crouched, rolling up his right pants leg. His swollen ankle had turned an unusual salmon shade. “This is more than a twist.”

  “Shit. I was worried about that. I guess I'll have to get it X-rayed later.”

  “I’ll try something.” Peeking behind me at the cameras, I made sure my back obscured the view. I gripped both palms around his ankle and shut my eyes. The tingling in my arms began, then traveled down into my hands, fingertips, and crossed beneath his skin. The nanobots swarmed into his tissue and spun along the fracture in his tibia. A light sprain; the healing process didn't take long. I opened my eyes and stood.

  “What did you do? That felt… weird.”

  “What did it feel like?” I’d never had a chance to ask Peterson, or
the man who’d suffered the heart attack, about the sensations.

  “Like tingling, I guess.”

  “That’s weird. I adjusted your bones. Try moving.”

  He shifted forward as if to lean on his foot, but then stared at something behind me.

  I spun and found Merck looming, hands on his hips. “Sarek, what the hell is going on?”

  How long had he been watching? I wondered as a blush crawled up my neck.

  He studied his tablet. “This soldier has a gunshot wound on his right side. I don't see any bandages applied. No IV in his arm. What are you doing?”

  Williams tried to help. “She's been very good—”

  “I didn't ask you,” Merck said. “Sarek, you’ll administer an IV into this man as I watch. My records show you don't even have one IV logged. You need to have eight IVs witnessed and logged by supervisors in order to graduate.”

  My heart dipped. An IV meant needles. And nausea. I’d passed out the first time I tried to IV another student. Since then, Jenna had covered for me every time one was necessary.

  Eight IVs required to be a medic. So far, I didn’t even have one.

  “Yes, sir. Right away.” I wheeled over the IV stand, reached into my kit, and pulled out a sterile syringe. My fingers trembled as I unwrapped the plastic bag. Avoiding the needle tip, I attached one end to the IV tube.

  Merck watched the entire time, and my skin crawled. Williams rolled up his sleeve, and I tied a rubber tourniquet around his bicep. Williams glared at Merck but could do nothing; he was outranked. Across the room, Jenna tossed me a worried look, but was far too busy tending to patients.

  “Make a fist,” I said, as I disinfected the skin on Williams’s inner elbow. A large vein bulged from his forearm. I removed the safety cap on the needle. “This will hurt, don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  Williams frowned, and I grew queasy as I pressed the needle into his smooth, unbroken flesh.