“Frost!” He sounded pleased to see me, but his expression didn’t change, swollen in place. “How did you fare?”
“Still in one piece.”
His eyes traveled past me. “And who’s this?” He no longer sounded pleased.
“You remember...uh—”
“Butson,” the soldier supplied.
“Right,” Swan said. “Butson.”
My mates were unpleasant to any soldier that dared speak to me. It was embarrassing. “No need to get hostile,” I chastened. “I didn’t know where you were, or our starting position for that matter. Butson was helping me.”
“I’ll take it from here,” Swan said, standing slowly. “Dr. Pruitt said I could go.”
I wanted to apologize for Swan’s obvious discourtesy, but I couldn’t really apologize on someone else’s behalf, especially not with them standing there looking surly. So when Butson and I parted ways, I didn’t feel good about it. I’d have Jackson thank him for me later. Swan led me out of the makeshift infirmary, passing one angry soldier with an icepack on his crotch. I pretended not to notice.
“Have you kept track of the announcements?” I asked as he led me toward our starting position.
“Four formats left,” he answered.
“Four! I thought it was down to us and Gridleigh’s.”
He shrugged, clearly unworried.
“Ugh! It’s my fault,” I admitted, realizing the truth. “I was supposed to stay on top of that pillar longer, but I came down. If I had waited then—”
The speaker crackled to life and we stopped mid-step, still as statues. “Format thirty-eight’s victory flag has been surrendered. All mates of format thirty-eight are to leave the field immediately.”
I sagged, sighing, “Two to go.”
When we reached our starting position Jackson and Edwards were waiting, along with Dutton and Roth. I didn’t wait to hear the stories of their surrender; I was too tired to care. Collapsing to the ground, I rested my back against Roth’s legs, or maybe it was Jackson’s…
Sometime later I was jostled awake. “What?” I slurred.
Roth smiled down at me. “You missed the last announcement, thirty-fourth bit the dust. It’s down to forty-fourth and sixth.”
Winslow against Gridleigh. How could they have possibly been fighting all this time? My drowsiness disappeared, and suddenly I wished I could watch the fight, begrudging the instructor’s their convenient watchtowers. “Where did everyone go?”
“The instructors finally got everyone back to their starting positions. They want everyone ready to board the ships when the games are over,” answered Edwards. He’d sidled up close during the few minutes I had drifted off.
The sun dipped, a golden globe hovering just over the horizon. The temperature was finally dropping. “It’ll be dark soon,” I observed.
“The games will be finished before then,” Swan promised.
Crackle.
I held perfectly still, hoping for the best, anticipating it, but never quite believing it.
“Format six’s victory flag has been surrendered. All mates belonging to format six are to leave the field immediately.” A pause. “Format forty-four is the last remaining format. Congratulations, you’ve won the war games. Please quit the field and return to your starting positions.”
Swan exploded, jumping into the air while letting out a triumphant wail. Edwards hugged me and laughed. Roth, Dutton, and Jackson took turns thumping each other on the back, smiling broadly. None of them could hold still, happy enthusiasm making them babble and laugh.
The droning male voice that spoke with little inflection continued to belch from the speaker. “All formats please wait while your instructors come to collect you for the return trip to your convene.”
Sounds erupted from nearby and I turned just as a large pair of tanned hands pulled me up off the ground. I was tossed into the air, plucked out of it, and pressed into a sweaty tunic. Mar’s raucous laugh rolled through me as I pushed weakly against his chest, my protests muffled.
After that I was passed about like a doll, my feet never touching the ground. Everyone was in high spirits, happy—beyond happy. For once Winslow didn’t have a guarded expression on his face. Fitallion seemed more animated than usual, his reticent personality melting away before our eyes. Dutton smiled, exposing small, even square teeth. I’d never seen them before. Lee wasn’t standing off to the side as was his usual location, but surrounded all around, congratulated, included. Pumphrey was giving liberal doses of praise, the hard glint in his eyes replaced by a less sardonic mirth. We existed in a world of our own, everything around us receding into a distant haze.
Chapter 35
After winning the war games everything seemed to whirl by. First Bardzecki came to collect us. As he led us to the awaiting Scarlet, he took notice of my flag.
“Heard they were still trying to scrape up Paulson’s balls,” he commented. I flushed. It was the closest thing to a compliment I’d ever get from Instructor Bardzecki. Unfortunately my mates had overheard, and they harassed me for details mercilessly. I rolled my eyes and gave them the story.
Again we were on the last ship to depart. As I climbed the ramp, I started to worry about the return flight. Was Gridleigh already aboard? He was probably feeling like a failure, and his mates wouldn’t hesitate to agree. They had only offered him begrudging respect, sticking together so they could win. That had been the uniting force on their format—winning. They would be a miserable lot, and I had no desire to ride back strapped in the same cabin with them.
It turned out we didn’t have to. As the winning format, we were honored for our accomplishments by riding with the commander. While the ship trundled along, he came to congratulate us as promised. My mates were a bit awestruck. Winslow shook his hand with smooth deference, face calm as ever, but I saw the aspiration in his eyes. It was like he was shaking hands with the future, seeing in one man everything he hoped to achieve. It made me sad, because I knew that he would never look at me like that, no matter how much he might admire me. Swan and Stew were next. As the most irreverent of our mates, I was surprised by their quiet and respectful greeting. Jackson and I shared a glance. Being the only two farmers on the format, we were not impressed by rank.
Commander Clarke came to stand over me, tall and imperious as ever. I wanted to ask about my future, but knew it wasn’t the time. It would appear impertinent to question him, so I shook the commander’s hand and let him move on without a word.
After landing at the air base my mates raced ahead to the convene, pulling me along in their wake. We were instantly assailed by soldiers the moment we arrived. Losing hadn’t spoiled their mood, and overall everyone was in high spirits.
Food had been prepared in advance and hot cider was passed around liberally. I was tired and tried to sneak away a few times, but my mates wouldn’t let me slip off. They shoved a cup in my hand and told me to relax. And I did, finding myself sluggishly content. I had a perpetual smile after a while, and laughed at things I knew weren’t funny. That was about the time Winslow pried the cup from my fingers, explaining that a few of the soldiers had diluted the cider with a batch of the fermented stuff they’d smuggled down from the dunes.
Truthfully, I didn’t care.
Curfew had been lifted, night-watch duties suspended, and the instructors had announced the following day would be a free one. No one was in a hurry to sleep. My mates socialized in the convene for hours, and when they finally retired to their hut, a slew of soldiers followed. I collapsed onto the nearest bunk, wishing I could contain the lassitude within me forever. The last thing I remembered was Mar describing his most perilous fight to a handful of soldiers I didn’t recognize.
* * *
My eyes felt glued shut as I woke up, my mouth dry. I had an ache for every muscle, though the pounding under my forehead was predominate.
I tried to go back to sleep, not ready to deal with the day, but after a while I sighed and opened my eyes—the sight was unwelcome. A bare shoulder glared at me from the next bunk over. A quick glance around confirmed my location as I spotted each of my mates in various states of undress, half-hidden beneath their blankets, all still asleep. Soft snoring drew my attention to the corner where Dutton bunked, and opposite him I couldn’t help but notice the dribble of drool running down Edwards’ chin. Lovely.
It was my mother that I always pictured during these awkward situations, imagining her scandalized and indignant reaction at the impropriety of it all. She could never imagine my life here, and the reality of my family seemed so far away.
Creeping from the bed so as not to wake them, I nearly stepped on Swan’s face. He was splayed between the bunks, his head propped up by a heavy waterskin. He looked awful, the skin beneath his bandages looking purple, blue, and tender. I felt terribly guilty having taken his bed. Why didn’t he wake me? Why hadn’t any of them? Stepping around him carefully, I skimmed the bunks, my eyes settling on Pumphrey. Like me, he was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn the day before. Oddly, he was even wearing one boot.
I nudged his shoulder, whispering, “Walk me to my shed.”
He grunt-moaned and turned his head.
Sighing, I flicked him in the ear.
He jerked and tried to shift away.
A bruise had blossomed on his jaw. I poked it.
He swatted at me and turned over.
Having lost all patience, I pushed him off the bed. He thudded to the floor but was up in no time, snarling, “What the hell?”
“Would you please walk me back to my shed?” I picked his other boot up off the floor, extending it towards him.
He grabbed it with a growl, muttering under his breath.
“Do you mind if I borrow your waterskin? Mine’s empty.”
He pulled it from his bunk and thrust it at me. “Take it.” His anger puttered out during the walk over, I could tell. He scratched the back of his arm and mildly inquired, “Were you afraid Gridleigh was going to get you?”
I shrugged.
“Everyone’s asleep, Frost.”
“You’re right,” I admitted as we reached the threshold of my shed. “Sorry I woke you.”
It was his turn to shrug, walking off where he would undoubtedly tumble back into bed.
I began my morning ritual, changing into a fresh outfit while taking stock of my new bruises. I used the waterskin Pumphrey had loaned me to clean the crusted blood from my hairline, carefully wiping up my scraped hands. The pillar had not been kind on the climb down.
After that I brushed my teeth outside, spitting into the sand. It was already light out, and it felt too late in the day to take a shower, so I bathed my face, neck, and arms with a wet towel. I had just stepped into the shed to tie my hair back when the door shuttered heavily, someone pounding on the other side.
My first thought: Gridleigh. But he wouldn’t have bothered with knocking if he’d come to harass me. When I pulled the door open I was surprised to see Instructor Bardzecki waiting on my steps.
“Good, you’re awake,” he said curtly.
I panicked, thinking maybe he’d seen me sleeping in my mates’ hut. I didn’t let any of that show on my face. I blanked it like Winslow, staring back into his icy eyes.
“Come with me,” he said. “You’re to attend a meeting in my office.” That was it. No explanation, no nothing. He stepped down into the dirt, crunching off as if there was no doubt I would scurry after. And since it was Bardzecki, I did.
* * *
It was Commander Clarke who’d scheduled the meeting. He stood outside Instructor Bardzecki’s office speaking quietly to another man. As I approached they both fell silent.
I was ushered inside, but Bardzecki was not, succinctly dismissed at his own door as the two men took over his office.
Commander Clarke sat behind the desk. The stranger took up a seat just behind him. I plopped down too, thinking how nothing good ever came from being in Bardzecki’s office. It occurred to me that they were acting very ominous. I blurted, “Is my family alright?”
“Your family is fine,” the commander replied. “Your replacement is doing well, and by all accounts your father is pleased with his work. But that’s not why I’ve called you here.” He paused, stealing a moment before he continued.
My brief encounter with Commander Clarke the night before had not reminded me what he was really like. While he would never fill me with admiration (like my mates) I was not immune to his presence. He was tall and straight, his uniform all crisp lines and perfectly fitted, boots and buttons shining. I should have showered, I thought, sitting straighter in my chair.
“Congratulations on winning the war game. It’s quite an achievement, something you’ll always remember.” He gestured over his shoulder. “This is Mr. Hagan. He’s not an officer, but he does work within the military, specializing in research.”
I had known he was no soldier. He had a paunch, though the rest of him was reedy. His hair was in the process of leaving him, and he sat with his shoulders down but not quite hunched. It occurred to me as I took in his relaxed posture, that even though I was a woman, I looked like a soldier, having subconsciously adopted the stance. His assessment of me was much more thorough, his stare acute and prolonged. “It’s good to finally meet you, Frost. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“Mr. Hagan is from Earth. I guess you might say he is a consultant of sorts. His job is to make our military more efficient.” The commander paused once more, taking his time, making sure he had my full attention. “I know you’ve wondered why you’re here, and since Mr. Hagan has managed your situation from the start, I thought it best to let him explain.”
Mr. Hagan’s eyes flipped from the commander to me, fingers smoothing over the folders in his lap as he inched his chair slightly forward. “It is irregular, I know, that you were asked to serve in the military, six months late, no less. The reason for that is quite simple—you are here because of the hostiles.
“The Union is moving forward with the utopias. I can’t say much on the matter, but Providence will be undergoing some changes. Taking the recent hostile attacks into account, it is imperative that we increase the military force here. That’s where I come in. My research will help integrate the positive aspects of various militaries from Earth, strengthening the system.
“As of now, gender roles are stiffly defined on Providence. It’s archaic really,” Mr. Hagan said, throwing the commander a glance. He wasn’t telling me anything my father hadn’t already taught me, and I thought it odd that he was looking the commander’s way. It wasn’t like he imposed those rules. It was the Union, Hagan’s employer, that did that. “Of course it was necessary at first,” he quickly back-pedaled. “Providence was a rough frontier, survival demanded simplicity.” My father held a distinctly different opinion, but I said nothing. “But as I said,” he continued, “things are changing. I have no doubt that years from now, Providence’s military will be open to women.”
“What!” I cried, incredulous. “It doesn’t matter if women live in the farming sector or military districts. They get married young and have children. That’s all they know how to do.”
Mr. Hagan seemed oddly sympathetic. “Yes,” he agreed, “that’s how they live now, but they’re capable of more.”
“I know that,” I said in frustration. “Is that why I’m here? Some sort of experiment? Did you drop me into a training camp to see if I could cut it?”
“On Earth women work in the military, we already know they can handle it. What worried us was how everyone else would handle it. That’s why you were brought here. We wanted to see how your family would take it, your community back home, but most importantly, the other soldiers here at camp. We needed to see how they would receive you among them.”
&
nbsp; “But why me?” I asked. “Why not a soldier’s daughter, someone familiar with the lifestyle?”
“I wanted a female the correct age who wouldn’t be undone by the experience, someone, how shall I say?”
“Tough,” offered the commander.
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Hagan, “I was looking for someone tough. You were the obvious choice. A female farm hand, the first and only. Your father made you famous when he petitioned for your share of land. I looked for other candidates, but I knew no one better suited would come along, and no one did.”
I was feeling oddly detached and numb; none of his explanations were what I’d imagined. Distractedly I wondered, “If I was supposed to be experiencing basic training like every other soldier, wouldn’t it have been fair for me to start with them instead of dropping me in six months behind?”
Hagan nodded, his hands fluffing the already orderly stack of files. “It wasn’t an ideal situation,” he admitted. “The case had to be approved, had to go through the proper channels, and couldn’t move forward until a representative from the Union had seen to it. Things were delayed and it all came down to postponing your enrollment until the next year or starting you off incredibly late. I recognize that being six months behind everyone was difficult for you, but we felt it was the better alternative. You would have been eighteen if we’d waited, and that may have been inconvenient for the project as a whole.”
“How so?”
He looked uncomfortable, shuffling the files nervously. “The next year of basic training wouldn’t have started until well into your eighteenth year. I thought perhaps you might form some sort of attachment seeing as you would have been of age.”
“You thought I’d get married!” I laughed in his face, uncaring if it was rude. “That’s ridiculous.”