RIFT (The Rift Saga Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter 8

SUE

The next day, while Tac Hordvik led them through contact drills, fine-tuning their moves, making them act like a single organism, Sub Meridian Hoston came over. He stood there for a moment, watching them practice, before he waved them over. They lined up beside the tacticus.

“Tacticus Hordvik, it is time for the transfer.” Hordvik straightened, and the sub meridian continued to read their new placements from an infopad. Sue was to go to the Westfold Brigade with Julian and Keisha, while Quinn was being sent east to the coast, to join the Kosmopol Brigade.

They ended practice at lunchtime, and after eating, Sue went to pack her belongings. She was happy about the outcome. She got to stay with her friends, and although she got along well enough with Quinn these days, she wouldn’t consider him a friend. She would miss the tacticus, though. After getting to know him better, and having listened to him at Survivor Night, she had grown to respect him even more.

When she entered the barracks, she started. Tac Hordvik stood by her bunk, waiting.

“Susan,” he said, and she walked in. She didn’t know what to say, so she just waited for him to speak.

“The Westfold Brigade is a good unit. And you will do well there,” he said.

“Sure,” she said. She had no idea whether the Westfold Brigade was a good unit or not. “Actually, I’m not even sure where it is, Westfold.”

He smiled.

“Westfold is the westernmost part of the northern borderlands of the Covenant. In fact, if you go south from Westfold, you will reach Warden territory. As far as I know, our people don’t have much to do with them, though, even out in Westfold. But I’m sure I don’t know half of what happens out there,” he said. Then he looked at his watch.

“I have to go now. Counselor Novak made me realize something about myself, and I have accepted a placement with the Strategos Command back in Legacy. I might be back later, though, if it gets too boring.” Sue smiled back at him and realized this might be the last time she saw him. Tac Hordvik had taught her everything she knew, and now they were both going in their separate directions. She straightened and slammed her fist to her chest.

“It’s been an honor, sir,” she said. He did the same, a bit more slowly, before he spoke.

“The honor is all mine, Atlas.” Then he smiled again before he turned and walked away.

Sue didn’t waste much time packing. She didn’t have much to pack, anyway.

Five minutes later, she was on her way to the train platform with Julian and Keisha. It was strange, the last time she had gone by train had been with a friend, as well, but this time there was none of the uncertainty. Sure, she felt the excitement and wondered how her new unit would be, what kind of commander she would get, and what sort of tasks she would be assigned. And there was always the uncertainty of knowing that, at any time, she could be sent on a mission that ended badly. Janissary casualty rates were known to be high; that’s why nobody expected Janissaries to serve beyond their mandatory three years. But she had done well at Camp Sharpe, and she had been in combat, where she had done even better. She still felt a pang of regret thinking of the woman she had shot, but everyone kept telling her she wasn’t to blame and that there was nothing she could have done differently. So she tried not to think too much about it.

The train ride was much faster than the last time, too. The maglev lines going from east to west were designed to carry troops and supplies quickly to wherever they were needed. So after two hours, the train came to a stop, and everyone got off, stepping out onto the platform.

“Over here, Janissaries,” a tacticus shouted from behind the platform proper. They walked over. Sue wondered whether to come to attention or salute. Regulation said they should, but there was something about the woman, a casual style and a somewhat relaxed smile, that made her hesitate. Julian did, though, and the tacticus laughed.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, “you can quit that now. This ain’t Camp Sharpe. Here we do things a bit differently.” Sue cocked her head, noticing the smell. Sweet. She had another look at the woman, and noticed the look on her face. It wasn’t just her being relaxed or a more laid back attitude around camp. Her pupils were slightly dilated, and she had a dumb smile on her face. She was affected by something, Sue realized.

“So welcome to Camp Gustavson. Let’s get you bunked up, shall we?” the tacticus said. “Follow me.”

The three of them followed the woman to a building toward the center of camp. Inside, she noticed the No Smoking signs.

“See that?” the tacticus said. “No smoking.” She giggled.

“So keep it outside, all right? And if you need anything, and I mean anything, I’m right over there, in Supply. Just ask for Anna.” She pointed at a nearby building, where a bunch of crates were being carried inside by a group of Janissaries.

“All right then…” she continued, looking down at her infopad, searching with her finger until she found what she was looking for.

“We go by first names here, okay?” She looked down again.

“Keisha and Julian, you are housed in here. Just grab a free bunk; there should be plenty. Most of the guys in this room got caught up in an ambush last week. Those who made it won’t be coming back here, so just make yourselves at home.” Sue saw the stunned looks on her friends’ faces before they went inside. Anna didn’t wait for them and continued walking. They reached a room at the back of the building and went inside.

A lean fellow got up from his chair and extended his hand.

“Rory Sanders,” he said. Sue took his hand and shook it.

“Susan Atlas,” she said.

Although not very muscular, he looked wiry and strong, with a firm jaw and a mustache that made him similar to Tac Hordvik, in an odd way. From his looks, she could have sworn he was Moon people, but the name gave him up as just a regular guy from some small town, like her.

“So, I trust you’ll take good care of her, Rory. Let her know what’s what and who’s who.” The tacticus turned to Sue.

“And don’t let him be too strict. He’s a third-year vet, but you still outrank him. If you wanna come smoke, you do that, no matter what he tells you. You may need it, even if he don’t.” Sue nodded at her before Anna turned and walked away.

Rory motioned toward one of the bunks.

“Get yourself situated, Sub Tacticus. The rest of the guys are having dinner, so they’ll be back in about an hour.” Sue walked over and put her pack on a bunk that seemed unoccupied. She noticed Rory watching her, and turned toward him.

“So when do I meet my unit? Is this it? This room, I mean.” He nodded.

“We don’t usually get the green ones,” he said, looking her up and down. “Green as grass, but already a sub tacticus. And assigned here, to the QRF. You must be special.” He looked honestly surprised, now that Sue noticed. So he hadn’t seen the show then, thankfully.

“QRF?” she asked. Rory smiled.

“Quick Reaction Force. If something happens, we’re the first to go. And something does happen around here.” He motioned toward the door.

“The Westfold Brigade is a pretty good unit, and we see our share of action. You might have got the wrong impression, though, from her. It’s the kissweed from down south that messes people up. Look at Anna, Moon blood and all. She could have had anything. Instead, she chooses to stay, doing a shit job, high more often than not. Probably disowned by her family, I mean, she’s been her for as long as anyone can remember. But for some reason, the officers never crack down on it. Seems they think it’s all right for some reason. Shit.” He shook his head, but didn’t say anything more.

Sue hadn’t seen anything like kissweed at Camp Sharpe, but then again, that was a training unit. These guys saw combat all the time. She could figure some of them needed to unwind, although she wondered if there wasn’t a better way than by smoking kissweed. She changed the subject.

“So I’m supposed to be part of this QRF then. Is there some kind of training or something I have to go through first?” Rory grinned.

“Sure. As soon as we can get you suited up and get us a mission, we’ll go out there and train. And you’d better learn, Sub Tacticus. Else you die.” Sue nodded slowly. She had figured as much, but she had to ask.

“Ever wondered why we Janissaries got the highest casualty rates?” Rory asked. “We have a pretty straightforward selection routine, that’s what it is. You get through Camp Sharpe, you get thrown into the water. Sink or swim, live or die. A lot of people die.” He leaned back, rocking back and forth on two of the chair’s legs.

“You’re lucky, though. The QRF got the toughest assignments, but we’re also the best unit in camp. And that’s not just something I’m saying. If you’re going swimming in the deep waters, having competent people around you can make all the difference. We’re pretty serious, you’ll see. And none of us smoke, either.” Sue finally smiled. She found she liked the man.

“Sounds good,” she said. “Just one thing, and let me assure you, this is just because I’m curious, not because I’m planning to be the first smoker in the QRF. That kissweed, you said it comes from the South. You mean Covenant south? I’m from the South, Charlestown, and I’ve just barely heard of it. Or did you mean Corpus lands?” Rory shook his head.

“No, no, not that far. I meant Warden territory. They bring in supplies all the time, Weapons, ammo, high tech gadgets of every kind. Kissweed. Other stuff.” Sue raised her eyebrows. She had no idea. She thought of Dave, from back home, who had gone to the Wardens after she talked his way out of being sent to the Corpus. What on Earth was going on down there?

DAVE

Dave was deep in thought when the alarm sounded. He’d been trying to solve a particularly difficult problem in which an algorithm meant to fool a secure folder into thinking he had pressed a correct password code didn’t perform as expected. Instead, it made the folder initiate a self-destruct sequence, which was about as far from what he wanted as he could get. He cursed silently. Having lost his concentration due to the alarm, he logged off the training interface, grabbed his jacket, and walked out. The sunlight blinded him for a moment, and he squinted. He was expecting this to be like the last time the alarm sounded and was surprised when nobody stood by the door to hand out weapons and ammo. He kept walking until he reached the square, where everyone was gathered. A Moon blood Warden he knew as Kirilov was calling out names.

“Greer, Baldwin, Scott, Wagner.” Dave was certain he’d heard wrong, but Kirilov repeated the names until everyone was gathered around him.

“Let’s get you suited up and fit for fight. Follow me,” he said.

The four initiates walked after Kirilov, who stomped briskly over toward the building near the airpad, where he’d seen Liz go when she returned from her first patrol. Kirilov ushered them inside.

The inside of the building looked nothing like he’d expected. The outside had the markings of a hospital, but this looked more like something of a cross between a lab and a warehouse. There were people he’d never seen before, in white coats. They looked like doctors. Or lab technicians. No way to tell the difference, since Dave had only been inside a hospital once, as a kid, when he’d contracted a particularly nasty strain of flu.

“Get moving; we don’t have all day,” Kirilov said. A female doctor led them down a long hallway until they reached a door at the end. She opened it and motioned without a word for them to enter. Inside, a young man with distinct Moon people features stood preparing four syringes. The medical assistant turned, and Dave noticed the blood shot eyes and stubble on his cheek.

“Juri, thank you,” the woman said. “You can take the rest of the day off.” He mumbled an incomprehensible reply and left the room. The doctor spread her hand apologetically.

“He’s been up for forty-eight hours straight, working,” she said. Dave shrugged it off. Poor sod.

The woman, Thorvaldsen, according to her name tag, motioned for him to sit, and he took a seat as she picked up one of the syringes.

“Tilt your head,” she said. He complied, and she stuck the syringe into his neck with a steady hand. It hurt like hell, but only for a second, before the anesthetic numbed his skin. He’d had his share of shots in school, but only a couple of times had he gotten this kind of syringe. The difference was huge. This way, he didn’t feel a thing when she pressed the contents into his bloodstream.

“What is it, vaccine?” he asked. The woman just smiled, while Kirilov sneered.

“Did someone tell you to speak, Wagner?” he said. Dave didn’t reply, and Kirilov let it slide.

“All right, you’re all set. You can continue through that door,” Thorvaldsen said, still smiling, and Dave got up. As he opened the door to leave, he saw Scott get ready for his shot. The room he entered was empty, with just a table and six chairs. He sat down and touched his neck tentatively. The anesthetic was already wearing off, and it felt sore. He sat back and stared up at the ceiling, where a remote-controlled camera hung, watching him. He leaned to his right. The camera followed. Then he leaned to his left. The camera buzzed and followed him again. Then he got up and moved to the other side of the room. The camera followed. He grinned at it. He wasn’t looking forward to whatever was coming, but damned if he’d show it.

A noise from behind a door on the opposite side of the room got his attention. A commotion, feet shuffling, something getting knocked over. Someone was fighting. He walked over to the door, acutely aware of the camera following his every movement. He grabbed the handle cautiously. What could they do, really? It wasn’t as if he did something wrong. He opened the door, just a little. Enough to peer through the crack.