CHAPTER TWO
MEWAC training grounds, 07H00, 7th of January, 2771
Fat drops drummed heavily against the taut canvass above Toni’s head. He hurried to change into the stained uniform he’d been handed, occasionally bumping shoulders with the other recruits as they hurried to do the same. The uniform was vomit-green, had most of its pockets missing or hanging by their threads, and sported a few brown smears of suspicious origin. Some uniforms were in even worse shape, and every once in a while he would hear a ripping sound followed by loud cursing.
Toni had since managed to get a better look at his new companions, and had also taken the time to read the graffiti present on some of their faces. One short and stocky recruit, whose dirty-blonde eyebrows met at a very hairy junction between his eyes, had SCARYBROW scrawled in capital letters, the brows having been used as a writing line. Another recruit, his mouth determinedly closed as he clothed himself in a dolmen missing most of its buttons, had BUCK written on his left cheek and TEETH on his right in bold, square lettering. Some other notable examples were SPAZ, TRAGEDY, CRATERFACE and GAWKER.
First-sergeant Mason had been appeased by the sole sacrifice on the grounds. As the defeated boy trudged away, the soldier had organized the group into a double-column, and they had then set off at a blistering pace, leaving their luggage behind to soak in the rain.
For most of the way, Mason had simply refused to march in a straight line, preferring instead to zig-zag his way randomly among the trees in one general direction. With every turn he put on a renewed burst of speed, periodically circling a large tree or some other landmark like a manic tour guide. Eventually he led them to a densely wooded area, where the ground was churned up and the trees wore scars, some quite deep and old. By that time the old sergeant’s ears were cherry-red from the effort, but still he kept up the pace. Mason then received a call on a very battered-looking SatPhone, and their trajectory had then become a straight shot towards their final destination.
They had arrived at a clearing where three large camouflage tents stood erected, a dozen soldiers of diverse ranks loitering between them. Over the course of those first few minutes, Toni had figured that the more decorative the insignias on their shoulders, the higher the soldier’s rank. The big-shot on location, a small but wiry man with a very tense jaw, exhibited a pair of silver stars on each shoulder, and he sneered at the recruits for a brief moment before continuing his conversation with the grizzled soldier beside him. Aside from a pair of busy-looking youths whose shoulders were adorned with red stripes, the remainder lacked any insignia at all and, unsurprisingly, they had been the busiest of the lot.
In one quick minute, the busy soldiers had distributed uniforms with no regard for size and, more depressingly, they had also handed out crash helmets and anti-trauma padding. The last offering had been flexible neck-braces.
And so it was that, by ten minutes past seven in the morning, with the rain pelting down with uncharacteristic intensity, the group of terrified recruits was formed up between the tents, the wiry commander standing before them with a crooked smile on his face. As the rain intensified further, drumming deafeningly against Toni’s crash-helmet, the commander opened his mouth to speak.
Toni groaned inwardly. He found himself in the rearmost row of the formation, the hammering rain on his helmet broadcasting static into his ears, and the speaker lacked the public speaking ability of First-sergeant “Screaming” Mason. Toni strained his ears, managing only to pick up a few snatches of the discourse.
“... to never, ever forget the name of your superiors. My name is Lieutenant ...”
“... manage to complete the Click in the set time and proper fashion, you will have the honor and privilege to ...”
“... at any time you have any doubts on where to go, you need only to ...”
“... and if you fall short of the mark here, you can forget about ever ...”
The Lieutenant’s speech went on for a while, with Toni all but clueless as to what he was saying. He was not alone, not if the other recruits’ puzzled expressions were anything to go by. All he managed to learn was that the selection process would involve an obstacle course known as the Click.
The Lieutenant conferred briefly with Sergeant Mason as the recruits whispered amongst one another, all apparently at a loss as to what was to happen next. Their eyes darted forwards once more to a familiar throat-clearing. Sergeant Mason glared at Toni’s puzzled expression for a few moments before sounding off.
“THE CLICK! WILL BE COMPLETED! IN ORDER OF ARRIVAL! IN OTHER WORDS! THE LAST GO FIRST! MISTER TARDY! FRONT AND CENTER!” Mason bellowed.
Toni’s stomach lurched dangerously. He quickly exited the formation, only to be screamed back into it, having apparently committed another no-no. After a quick minute of instruction, example and execution on the right way to fall out of formation, he was finally allowed to depart from the platoon towards what was termed the “warm-up location”.
It might once have been a wide circle set within a pebbled perimeter, but the sheer number of boots that had already pounded the area within its boundary had depressed the ground below, and the rain had done the rest.
All that remained for it to be a pond was the Koi fish.
Five paces beyond the circle was a rising rope ladder under guard of a young red-striped soldier.
Toni splashed along inside the circle, self-consciously wind-milling his arms under Mason’s murderous gaze, glancing at the end of every lap towards the flimsy ladder as it disappeared up into a confusion of tree-branches. Forging his way through the icy water, he heard a thunderous horn reverberate across the forest as if trumpeted by some mythical war-god. The sound was so deep and low he felt it resonate inside his chest, almost shaking him. A wicked grin began to spread across Mason’s face.
“Any time now, boy!” the soldier shouted.
“What?”
“That was the starting horn! Get a move on, or would you prefer to keep the Sarge company?!”
“Oh ...” Toni muttered, and he set off at a run towards the ladder.
“DON’T BREAK YER NECK, SUNSHINE!” Mason bellowed after him, his taunting laugh following Toni as he began to assault the ladder.
The rope ladder began to swing back and forth as he climbed, and his already upset stomach slowly began to liquefy. As he ascended, Toni forced himself to resist the urge to look up, since every time he did so he’d get two eyefuls of rain and be forced to pause, blinking blindly as he swayed until vision returned. Not daring to look down either, Toni stared out into the woods as he gripped each wooden rung, progressing more cautiously the higher he climbed. Finally accepting the fact that he had exceeded the height where a fall would be fatal, he settling into a monotonous rung-by-rung climbing routine until the sound of raindrops beating against wood caused him to look up. Just above and to his right he found a collection of thick branches interlinked with a dense web of rope and, nailed to the nearest, a weathered plastic sign stating “EXIT HERE”.
Toni abandoned the ladder, scrambling clumsily along the confusing cobweb until the challenge beyond caused him to pause. Attached to the trunk and to two diverging branches was an arrangement of taut cables forming a V, interconnected by ropes for every meter of their considerable length. The rope bridge disappeared into the forest with no end in sight. Not bothering to see where the other end was attached, he set off, gripping the two upper cables with white knuckles as he carefully paced along the lower one. He kept his eyes fixed on the bottom cable as he carefully placed his feet, counting his steps as he advanced to keep himself from thinking about how far from the ground he was. At his thirtieth step he dared to peer forwards.
Before him, maybe ten paces away, a hovering, pitch-black triangle enclosed the rope bridge. The sight was so disconcerting it bordered on the unreal, but the rain spattering off the triangle’s top facet finally comforted him as to its solidity. Cautiously he advanced.
As Toni reached it he sighed in relief. The obstacle’s builders
had wrapped the remainder of the cable bridge in a latex-like material, leaving a dark, triangular tunnel within which he could continue. Carefully pressing his hand against the material, he found it rubbery and alarmingly elastic. Doubting that the material could bear his weight, Toni cautiously entered the tunnel.
What moments before had seemed achievable gradually became a nightmare. Only a few paces beyond the sky-tunnel´s entrance it became so dark, finding the bottom cable was a matter of feeling with his feet rather than seeing. To make matters worse, Toni was forced to stoop to keep from rubbing his helmet against the springy ceiling, and the elastic wrapping pressed against the support cables with enough pressure to make them difficult to grasp.
Ten paces later, darkness dominated. Toni began to constantly glance behind him for reassurance as he progressed, the compulsion only serving to destroy his night-vision, leaving a white triangle imprinted on his retina when he turned to face forwards once more. His labored breathing was greatly amplified by the tunnel, and the rain’s drumming against the fabric more than replaced the static that had been playing into his ears. As his thighs began to burn from their constant flexing, Toni resorted to using the transverse ropes set along the bridge as tactile guides for his feet.
As he was setting his weight on to a front foot, a powerful gust swayed the bridge and he slipped. Unable to see anything to grasp at, he hooked his arms out blindly, but then he found himself lying on his back instead, bouncing in the darkness with nothing to hold on to. His stomach convulsed, and he left a sopping gift on the elastic wrapping for the following recruit.
Toni finally realized that he had underestimated the material’s resilience. Finding the bottom cable suspended just above his head, he gripped it to lift himself back up, but then reconsidered. Instead he chose to leapfrog his way along the bottom. In a few short bounds he reached the opposite end and found it in darkness as well, and he climbed out of the sky-tunnel and into an enclosed and darkened space.
Toni began to reach out methodically, trying to form a mental map of the compartment he was in. There appeared to be a dense mesh of rope filling up the gaps between an array of tree limbs and, where his hands managed to poke through, they were met by the same elastic material that had broken his fall. His hand then gripped something hard and leathery, and he felt his way up, squeezing his eyebrows together in the darkness as he began to pull at the strings that bound the item together.
“Yes, it is a boot, you twit!” a disembodied voice rasped, and said boot suddenly kicked out, clipping Toni smartly on his chin.
“Alright mate, let’s send you on your way!”
The voice groaned with sudden effort and something smacked heavily against Toni’s helmet, propelling him towards his right side with a deafening clang.
Toni was struck again and yet again, his surprised exclamations adding to the clangor until, with one final collision, he was sent headfirst down a chute.
He was inside tunnel of slippery polymer construction and quickly gathering speed. He gave up trying to brake his descent and instead wrapped his arms around his head, anticipating a collision. To his surprise the tunnel’s angle became shallower as he descended until he slid to a complete stop.
Toni peered forwards and saw a disk of light before him. He groped forwards on his stomach, cursing the surface for being so slippery as he tried to gain traction with his nails. He finally reached the opening and passed through into the blinding light.
“Hello, newborn! Time for your spanking,” someone said and, before Toni’s eyes could adjust to the light, he was once again under assault.
In the moments before he was ushered into another hole with a heavily padded sledgehammer, Toni managed to discover that he was on the ground again, “ground” meaning a tied raft in the middle of a watercourse. The thick tube he was being ushered into snaked along ahead of him, rising and falling into the water and snaking about like a giant serpent. The usher, equipped with the ridiculous motivator, seemed to be having the time of his life. As Toni began crawling into the tube, he felt the soldier hook something to his trouser leg. The obstacle before him soon put that out of his mind.
Toni was in darkness once more, but the tunnel had had sand resined to its walls and he was able to progress with greater speed, shuffling along until first his hands and elbows found water, and then the rest of his torso. His left leg felt as if a dog had latched onto it and elected to be dragged along, but the numbing cold soon put the beast to sleep along with that extremity.
As the water lapped at his upraised chin, Toni’s hand slapped against the tunnel’s sealed end. For a long moment, he blinked in the darkness, his hand scraping along the wall before him, pushing hard against it in the insane hope that it would somehow pop off. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia stole over him, and he began to hammer his fist repeatedly against the abrasive wall.
He stopped hammering as quickly as he had started. His right hand had slipped downwards, dipping into unexpectedly deeper and cooler water.
The tunnel continued on downwards through a slim passageway.
Whatever it was that had attached itself to his leg suddenly came alive and, with a sudden lurch, he found himself being dragged back along the tunnel. Just as suddenly it stopped, and Toni scrambled forwards and hooked his arm into the tunnel’s curve.
Moving quickly, he dipped his body downwards in a desperate dive, promptly slamming the top of his helmet against the bottom. Slapping his hands about frantically, Toni found that the tunnel goosenecked, and he followed it up and out of the water.
It was dark on the other side. Feeling another hard yank on his leg, Toni threw himself forwards and fell headfirst into the second gooseneck beyond. He quickly cornered the obstacle and clawed his way out the other side and into unexpected light.
The old sergeant pulled him out of the tube’s opposite end and dropped him dripping onto the tent floor. As Toni gaped in confusion at his surroundings, a medic subjected him to a cursory health check.
“Thirty seconds!” the sergeant stated gruffly as he glanced at a stopwatch, just as Toni realized that he was inside a closed tent.
He was puzzled as to how he could have completed the course in only thirty seconds, but the thought was interrupted by a resounding horn that almost shook the tent down. All three clapped their hands to their ears.
“Fuck hell! Jorren, twenty seconds!”
Toni blinked stupidly as the orderly put a knee to the ground and looked into his eyes.
“Son, do you wish to continue?” he asked.
Toni couldn’t work his mouth, so he nodded instead.
“Ten seconds! Jorren, get the rope off the boy!”
The orderly released the rope that had been hooked to Toni’s trouser leg and gave it three hard yanks. After a pause the rope slipped back down the tube.
“How long has it been?” Toni gasped, his mind numb as he struggled to stand.
“Three ... two ... one ... go!” the sergeant shouted, giving him a smack in the back hard enough to send him flying out the tent.
“You’re five minutes in, boy!” the orderly shouted as Toni departed.
A much younger sergeant stood before him. Grabbing a hold of the newcomer’s arm, he lifted a finger before Toni’s nose.
“I’m gonna say this only once, so listen good! You’ve done the fear obstacles. Nice job. From here on out it’s all resistance. Keep your pace up but don’t kill yourself. You stop running only when they tell you to stop. Understood?”
“Yeah ...” Toni breathed.
The sergeant then pointed beyond Toni towards the triple palisade beyond.
The Click’s second part was a cinch for Toni. Growing up on a farm with a lot of trees and fences about had its privileges. If he hadn’t already been dead tired from the first part, he might even have enjoyed it. There were palisades, rope swings, trenches, successively taller Chinese gateways, over-unders, a whole assortment of obstacles, variations on obstacles, and combinations of obstacle
s to overcome. The rain had even let up a bit, although every surface was still wet and treacherous. The resistance course accompanied a waterline that snaked around a low hill. Beyond the waterline he found some spectators, all clad in varying shades of green, grey, and mud-brown uniforms, some shouting words of encouragement while others spewed verbal abuse at his passage. Shortly afterwards a much recovered Toni was making his way around the hill’s opposite end, when he saw before him what was almost certainly the final obstacle.
A rippling black wall twenty paces wide and thirty tall stood with an obscene slit at its center, accessible only by a scaffold foot-ramp that began shortly beyond the end of the second-to-last obstacle. A horde of spectators was visible on both sides of the wall, and all were silent for the moment. All fear Toni might have had was smothered by his relief at the sight of the finish-line.
Overcoming a confusing array of low-lying wires, he hit the ramp at a steady jog and held the pace as he ascended. Someone off to his left began to shout on a loudspeaker.
“JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!”
The spectators took up the cry. As Toni peered up at the wall itself, he noticed that it was apparently made of the same flexible polymer he had dealt with minutes ago. He made out three words in a semi-circle above the slit.
ONE GIANT LEAP
His last task was apparently a simple one.
Closing in on the gate as the shouting reached a crescendo, Toni held his breath, crossed his forearms over his chest and leapt with legs locked together through the slit.
For the briefest of moments, he caught sight of something impossibly large moving impossibly fast and, from the corner of his eye, a blur moving towards him like a freight train.
I die now, his mind ejaculated.
The freight train struck Toni, hammering him so hard that the heavens burst before his eyes. The deafening smack resounded in his ears as he was launched sideways, doing a gradual half-turn as he glided through the air. He had briefly relieved himself while in the watery tunnel, believing there would be no more appropriate location than there to do so. What little hadn’t come out before did now. One brief, terrified squirt.
Toni’s landing was, contrary to all else that had happened to him, unbelievably soft. Landing up-side-down, his hands instinctively clawed at the ascending net of nano-wire that had broken his fall, the net giving way several meters beneath and beyond him. He lay there for a moment, barely registering the raucous cheers from his audience, until a heart-stopping roar tore into his ears, banishing all emotions except terror from his mind.
Toni turned onto his back and laid his eyes upon the armored Suit. It stood before him, grey as granite, segmented in body and headless, holding a gigantic shock-yellow padded sledgehammer in a double-handed grip. Moving with unexpected fluidity, it swung the sledgehammer in an uppercut against the bottom of the nano-net he was lying on. The ripple propagated upwards, flipping Toni right-side-up and forcing him to twist around once more to keep his eyeballs on the colossus.
“CLIMB! CLIMB! CLIMB!” the man with the loudspeaker began to chant, and the cry was soon taken up by the spectators.
Moving with silence and agility, the Suit dropped the sledgehammer into the churned mud below and gripped the bottom end of the nano-net. The titan then shook the net in a parody of spreading a bed sheet and the wave rippled upwards, forcing the recruit to hold on for fear of sliding down into the mud.
Toni took the hint and began to scramble up the net, ascending quickly despite the Suit’s occasional shaking and bullying. His shoulders and thighs began to burn fiercely with the effort, but gradually the voices below became fainter and fainter. The net’s width varied widely but was never less than twenty paces across, and it kept a roughly thirty degree angle due to having been fixed to nearby trees with nano-wire cables. Finally breathless, his heart beating a heavy staccato rhythm inside his chest, Toni began to hear encouraging shouts from above, and he paused momentarily to rest and scrutinize the source of the noise.
Above him, set between four massive redwoods, was an army encampment. Viewed from below, it appeared to be an enormous hovering square of about forty paces across and canopied with an olive-green awning, and there was a line of desks to either side of a narrow entryway.
At the entryway, an assortment of uniformed men and women applauded and shouted words of support down to him. Encouraged but uncertain, he began to ascend once more, the more suspicious facet of his personality fearing that they would fall upon him with clubs at his arrival. In the last couple of meters the net’s angle suddenly steepened, but then a multitude of hands grabbed him by his anti-trauma padding and hoisted him onto the plastic flagstones. Toni felt relieved at having already puked out the contents of his stomach, but still he dry heaved a few times as someone annoyingly patted his back.
“Would you believe it?! The first recruit made it through! We must have done something wrong!” a matronly woman announced loudly to the crowd’s laughter.
“Corporal, take the rook out back and see if you can put him back together,” a deep voice spoke, and he was gingerly lifted into the arms of a burly soldier with red stripes so old they had faded to pink. Toni stared belatedly at his muddied thighs as he was easily carried by the soldier, and then he was set down against a line of crates acting as improvised railing for the camp’s perimeter.
“Who would have thought, a Corpie carrying a rook around like he was a baby ...” the corporal drawled in his deep voice. He didn’t sound altogether as offended as the words implied.
“Thank you ...”
“Don’t mention it. I’m Baylen.” The corporal thumbed at the nametag on his broad chest where, sure enough, his name was neatly printed along with his blood-type. They shook hands briefly, Toni’s fingers receiving a surprising gentle squeeze from his beefy shaker.
The recruit quietly observed his surroundings. Most of the camp’s population was still at the Click’s finishing line, and a solitary soldier manned a laptop at a desk to their left. To say it was windy up there would have been an understatement.
“This place is something else ...”
“Yeah, welcome to Valhalla Command, that heavenly place all true warriors ascend to after getting plastered by a Suit. Or something like that. You just sit there for a few mikes and take small sips from this bottle here, and I’ll return once your breath is back to get you stretching. You stink, by the way ...” he added, chuckling as he returned to the crowd.
Toni sat on the tiles alone for some time, keeping his eyes closed as his body slowly recovered, only his ears remaining attentive to their surroundings. Valhalla camp’s awning was set at its lowest point to the rear, and a continuous cascade of rainwater drained off behind him and downwards to the forest floor. After a while he noticed that he was wrapped in a thick grey blanket, and wondered when that had happened. Its enveloping hug spared him from the chilly wind’s worst bite, but still he continued to tremble.
Baylen returned with dry clothing and duly initiated him into a stretching routine. As he followed the corporal’s instructions, Toni heard the armored Suit moving far below, occasionally sounding the war-horn and that skin-crawling roar that, according to Baylen, had once been recorded from a mountain lion and since become a permanent addition to the Hammerhead’s playlist.
“So that’s a Hammerhead?”
“Yes and no,” Baylen answered as he helped him stretch his calves. “Hammerhead is what Joe Public knows it as, and it’s also the nick we have for the walker. It’s a Model 1 Tactical Armored Suit, and we call it the Hammerhead ‘cause the operational ones got a head that looks like those sharks. You know the ones, right?”
“Yes sir.”
“Don’t sir me, respect me, you hear? We call the Hammer down below Headless. I guess that’s about the extent of our imagination. Its chassis and systems have seen better days, and though its OS is up-to-date, its hardware is not.”
“What’s an OS?”
The corporal chuckled.
&nb
sp; “You’ll find out if you make it into Suit School, rook. Haven’t passed your medicals or the interview yet so don’t get too cocky over today. All it takes is a bad non-remediable gene, or maybe a bad interview, or maybe a screw-up on base, and you’ll be working Logistics and Support by the end of the day. So forget about the questions for now and keep up your stretching, alright?”
“These are the weirdest socks I’ve ever seen ...” Toni remarked as he inspected the footgear the corporal had brought with him.
Baylen laughed. “Those are moccasins, rook! Did you grow up on a farm, or something?”
Toni didn’t answer, but his ears began to glow cherry-red.
Before long he understood the corporal’s concern for him getting cocky about today. By the time Toni, newly clad in a polar-neck jersey, thick cotton trousers and the sock-like pair of moccasins, had joined the crowd by the finish line, the horn had blown six times. Despite that fact, he was still the only recruit to have reached the end of the Click, although only moments ago he had seen a female recruit execute the Leap into the Unknown. She had jumped face first only to be bushwhacked by Headless, the padded sledgehammer’s slap against her flailing body carrying all the way up to Valhalla, where it met with the delight of its inhabitants.
“Outstanding, Headless. The brass up here are pegging you as their new cleanup hitter,” the soldier beside Toni hollered into his radio, and he was answered from down below with the now-familiar feline roar. Toni wondered what the other recruits were thinking as they heard that sound, suddenly relieved at having been the first to go.
A voice squawked something out of the soldier’s hand-held radio that only he seemed to understand.
“Captain, Headless is saying the recruit fell off the net and can’t get back on!”
“Give her the two-mike penalty and stop her time.”
“Fifteen minutes, twenty and seven seconds, sir!”
“log it, Hank. What’s her name?”
“Sueli Cassel, code-name Blusher,” someone answered as she perused a clipboard.
There were a few chuckles to that.
“That’s why I like Mason at Station One. He can pick up a candidate’s traits in a heart-beat,” the Captain remarked.
He was a heavyset man in his forties, who sported a wide black goatee in contrast to his shaved skull. Taking a seat on one of the few wooden stools, he supported an elbow against the desk beside him and eyed Toni.
“And he’s got enough asshole charm to get rid of the feebles before they get on my nerves.”
The captain had a pleasant enough voice, but Toni felt his hackles raise. There was an odd expression on the man’s face as he read what was written on the recruit’s forehead.
“Sir? Devonport’s calling from station two. Says his nightscope’s running out of juice.”
“That’s ‘cause our sergeant’s keeping the scope up even when no one’s there. Tell him to use the ears the Gods graced him with and only punch it when he hears someone coming.”
The morning began to stretch out as the rain came and went, horns and roars and occasional raucous laughter filling the forest. The camp, suspended among the high trees by nets and cables, swayed in the occasional breeze.
Most of the sergeants and officers present on Valhalla didn’t appear to need to be there, and were regarding the Click as a kind of social event, complete with an improvised buffet table Toni didn’t dare approach despite his growling stomach. The few soldiers actually at work were the captain, a female sergeant named Miriam Reeves, Corporal Baylen and the two soldiers manning the electronic equipment. The radio-man, an agitated youth not much older than Toni, would receive news from his various sources on the ground and relay them to the officer. The news focused as much to the spirit with which the recruits were attacking the course as to their actual performance, and he found himself wondering what they had said about him.
It was eleven o’clock before Toni finally found himself again in the company of a fellow recruit.
Her leap into the unknown was original. The recruit launched herself headfirst through the passageway at a steep descent, prompting the Hammerhead’s first miss of the day as she splattered into the churned mud below. Apparently unhurt, she jumped fitfully away from the Suit and, spotting the nano-net above her, pounced upwards like a cat and gained a hold of its end. In that moment a second figure jumped through the wall, colliding against the armored Suit’s spaulder and somehow managing to grip onto its exposed artificial muscles. As the first to arrive finally clawed her way up onto the net, the second spotted her and launched himself onto it, colliding with the female recruit and almost sending her back down into the mud. The spectators’ cheers were drowned out by the armored Suit’s frustrated roars as both recruits embarked on their scrambling climb to Valhalla.
The first to arrive was the girl, covered in mud but sporting an insane grin on her face as she scrambled onto the tiles. The male recruit, however, was the proud owner of a newly acquired gash spanning much of his forehead, exposing pale pink bone beneath. His crash-helmet was missing.
Valhalla Camp’s medical evacuation procedure proved to be terrifying in its conception. Once his laceration had been briefly disinfected and bandaged, the recruit was fitted with a parachute and flung cursorily over the side. The chute deployed by cable, and within seconds the casualty had touched down on the forest floor. Shortly afterwards, a second Hammerhead showed up, unceremoniously picked up the recruit, wrapped him in parachute silk and stomped away with the boy held in its arms like an infant.
Toni began to wonder how they were going to leave Valhalla. When he asked the radio-operator about it, however, the soldier laughed.
“We’re going down the way you came up, chum, unless you brought a chute for yourself.”
Toni accompanied Baylen as he directed the remaining recruit to the camp’s rear. Pulling the awning’s fringe back from the nano-net it was suspended on, the corporal improvised a rainwater shower for her to wash off the mud.
With chestnut hair but the oddest almond-shaped aquamarine eyes, the recruit seemed unable to remove the grin from her face, and indeed he was unsurprised to find “HAPPYFACE” written on her forehead. The corporal treated her like a princess, keeping her company as he sent Toni to fetch dry clothing from a crate at the camp’s opposite end. By the time he returned it was clear why Baylen had done so.
The corporal was no longer alone with the recruit, having been intruded upon by a very irritated Second Sergeant Reeves, who had apparently taken it upon her shoulders to protect Happyface’s innocence. Baylen was stiffly ordered to vacate the premises along with a bewildered Toni.
“Damn Sarge can read my mind ...” Baylen chuckled as they rejoined the finish line attendants.
Shortly before mid-day the last recruit washed-out in the river tunnel, no other having managed to find his way up to Valhalla.
“Captain, Spaz just cracked in the water-pipe. Nona had to drag his ass out. He froze, sir.”
“Strike his name from the log and close it. Baylen, get the boy into his provisionary uniform and out to the canteen. It’s time to fill some bellies.”
“Yes, captain,” Baylen replied, remaining where he stood.
They watched in silence as the camp slowly emptied, its former occupants launching themselves confidently onto the nano-net one at a time, cart-wheeling, rolling or slowly sliding down its extension in single file. If Toni hadn’t already seen a sledge-hammer wielding armored Suit ambush flying recruits, he would have considered that the strangest thing he had ever seen.
“What’s your name, boy? Baylen asked as he contemplated the descending group.
“Toni, sir.”
“Don’t sir me. What’s your last name?”
“Miura.”
“Ahuh. Never heard that name before. Where you from?”
“A farm outside Leiben. My father works in livestock and forestry.”
“And your mother’s last name?”
“Mart
ial. Why?” he asked inquisitively.
“Don’t know any Martials here either. Been a soldier ‘bout fifteen years now. Maybe not the brightest, but I still got a good memory for names and families. Don’t know how the hell you managed to do the Click in your time, but you came in second best in forty-six runners. The chick you finished ahead of is called Hannah Arakaki. Not a generation has gone by without at least one member of her family making officer rank. And the one who face-kissed the suit’s called Ian Templeton. You know the name?”
“Only the last one.”
“That’s the only one you need to know. The Army isn’t a popular institution any more but it’s still got a lot of power in the general scheme of things. There’s not a seat of power on Thaumantias that doesn’t have a Templeton or sympathizer-of sitting in it. If this kid makes it, he’ll be the third in MEWAC alone. And he finished the Click in a record time. Four minutes and seven seconds. Makes sense, considering they’re all transgen freaks. That family invests so much in gene therapy it’s hard to believe they still got more money than God. Arakaki, Tani, hell, most names with top results on the Click belong to families with their fingers and thumbs dipped in all that shit.”
“Not mine. My father doesn’t believe in it. He’s a natural. Only my mother’s got transgens on her side.”
“Rook, that’s my point. You got lucky today. When they do the medical, they’re gonna look for the genes they think will fit the Suits. And they’re not gonna forget what families support military funding, I guarantee it. You must have had some ideas about what you wanted to do here, but it’s best you put the Suits out of your mind. Fifteen years ago, I finished well ahead of the curve in the Click here. Was a bit different then, but I still managed under nine mikes. You know what I do now?”
“No.”
“Foot infantry, Close Ground Support. I’m the one with nano-net camo in my pack and a Lacrau on my shoulder. If I’m lucky, I can hitch a ride on a Hammerhead so it will park me up a tree to set up an observation post or a defensive position, and that’s about as close as I’ll ever get to being in one. I’m saying this ‘cause I just don’t want you to go down to the canteen and mouth off about your time. Keep your eyes open, your trap shut, and hope for a miracle, ‘cause that’s about all you can do from now on. Got it?”
“Yes ...”
“And shut your mouth about your father being a natural. You won’t be getting any points for that either, understood?”
“Yes,” Toni answered quietly.
They stood silently for a while, watching as, far below, the radio-operator carefully dropped his equipment into a soldier’s waiting hands before jumping into the mud. A minute later they were truly alone.
Toni finally turned to the corporal.
“Baylen, I know what you said about asking questions, but could you answer me a couple?”
Baylen smiled and nodded. “Depends on what you ask, rook.”
“What was my time?”
“Eight minutes, seventeen seconds. Do you get it now?”
“Yeah, I got it. Another question. What the hell did Mason write on my forehead?”
Baylen snapped his head towards Toni and watched him carefully. Then his lips cracked into a grin and he began to laugh loudly enough to disturb the wildlife.
“Ah hell, you rooks crack me up! You mean you haven’t even guessed by now?”
“No. I just didn’t like the way the captain looked at me, that’s all,” Toni replied.
The grin dissipated from Baylen’s face.
“Rook, you gotta understand that some reputations can be hard to lose around here. Some guys fuck up on Day One and never get over it. And if First Sergeant Mother-Fucker Mason wrote Mister Tardy on your forehead, it’s ‘cause you broke one of the cardinal rules over here. You never, ever, make your betters wait for you.”
“Understood. If that’s the case, can we get going now?” Toni asked.
“That’s the spirit, rook,” Baylen said, giving Toni a heavy slap on his shoulder blade before launching himself out onto the nano-net.