Harper didn’t budge. He couldn’t stop Adams, but he wasn’t leaving the scene, either. So much for Harper’s sudden attack of conscience. If he’d really cared, he would have gone for help. Owen shifted his weight, getting ready to sneak back into the shadows when he realized he couldn’t up and leave Thompson alone. It would take time for him to get to where the DIs were camped, time to wake them up and get them down to the shelter. Time that Adams could use to do whatever he wanted to his captive.
Owen realized with a start that was why Harper was standing there. The grim look on the cadet’s face told him that his guess was correct. He stayed to make sure Adams didn’t actually kill the guy.
With Harper making sure things didn’t get too bad, Owen figured he could probably slip away and be back with the drill instructors in time to help Thompson. But that wouldn’t help Harper. He was standing there with the other two cadets. He’d be expelled from the Academy right along with them if he was caught. All Owen had to do was wake up his cadre, and he’d demolish the careers of all three of them.
Except he wasn’t so sure all three deserved to lose their careers over this, not anymore. Harper wasn’t participating in the abuse. He was there to stop it, near as Owen could tell. Or at least keep it from getting too bad.
No, he didn’t deserve to be tarred and feathered with the other two. But he’d be expelled with the rest.
There had to be a way to stop what was going on without putting Harper in harm’s way. But how? Owen glanced over at Roberts, but he wasn’t going to be much help. The other recruit was watching Owen expectantly like he thought somehow he’d resolve this whole mess. Owen looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. He was no hero, and he didn’t know where Roberts had gotten the idea he might have it in him to be one. After all, he’d been expelled for beating someone up. Was he really that different from Adams?
The question bothered Owen more than he wanted to admit.
With a flash of inspiration, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to solve this alone. Sure, he could wade in with his fists and deal with Adams hand to hand. But that way had caused him too much trouble already. No, he wasn’t some sort of action hero who could ride in and dispense justice, vigilante-style. Owen needed help.
“I’m going to go put a stop to this,” Owen told Roberts.
“By yourself?” He sounded incredulous, and Owen couldn’t blame him.
“Not entirely,” Owen replied. “Here’s what I need you to do…”
Fifteen
The two recruits split up, each of them vanishing into the night to run their separate errands. Owen moved with as much speed as he dared. Sure, Harper might keep the abuse to a minimum for a while, but Thompson needed help as quickly as possible.
He was still torn with indecision. Was this the right call? If he’d just waded in swinging, things would have reached a resolution faster. Instead, he’d left Thompson to the tender mercies of the drill cadets.
Owen came to the first tent in his row. He went inside the doorway and tapped the recruit on the leg. The sleeping man woke quickly. Owen held a finger to his lips and hissed, “Shhh. Come.”
He wasn’t sure if the other recruits would follow him or not, but they did. Each of them rose, grabbed their weapon, and came out into the night without question. Owen blinked as he saw the growing row of people trailing behind him. They were all coming.
“What’s going on?” Kowal asked. She’d slipped in close to Owen’s side so she could talk without raising her voice.
“Trouble with the drill cadets. Come on,” Owen whispered back.
She nodded and beckoned the rest of the recruits forward. They linked up with the squad Roberts had woke near the same spot they’d used to observe the cadets before. Owen turned back and looked at the other recruits, questions in all their eyes. Time to answer that.
“Thompson is in trouble. The drill cadets have him tied to a chair, and they’re beating him,” Owen said. Keep it simple. “Adams is the real problem. Harper is in there trying to keep Thompson safe, but Adams is going to try to get us to back down.”
“Which we won’t do,” Kowal said, her voice making it not a question at all.
Owen flashed her a smile. “Damned right. Let’s go.”
Stepping out of the safety of the hiding place was a relief. At last, Owen felt like he was taking real action. None of the drill cadets noticed him at first. All their attention was on Adams and Thompson. Harper stood next to the pair, telling Adams in a wheedling voice that their captive had had enough, to let him up.
But Adams was flat out ignoring his fellow cadet. He placed a palm on Harper’s chest and shoved him away. Then someone behind Owen coughed. Adams whirled and saw him approaching the shelter.
“Little punk. You should have stayed in your rack, recruit,” Adams said. He hadn’t seen the others behind Owen, yet. But he would in a minute.
“No, you looked like you could use a dancing partner,” Owen replied.
He darted in, faster than a guy his size should be. Owen took the first blow on his guard. The second landed on his elbow, sending sparks of pain up and down his arm. He ignored it as best he could. With his good arm, Owen slipped in a shot of my own, landing near his sternum with enough force that the air whooshed out of his lungs.
Adams staggered back from the blow. His eyes got wide as he saw the other recruits stepping out of the shadows, marching up behind Owen into the light. Owen had a moment to spare a glance for Thompson. Harper knelt beside him. It looked like the cadet was getting him untied. That made him feel better about his decision. It looked like maybe Harper was someone whose career really was worth saving.
“You think I’m afraid of a bunch of stupid recruits?” Adams said. But Owen could hear the fear in his voice.
“Yes, I think you are,” Owen said.
Adams came in with a front kick. Owen fired off a kick of his own, faster, which connected with Adams’ leg before he could fully extend the attack. The impact shifted his momentum wildly, and he struggled to maintain his balance. Again, the big cadet staggered back
He seemed to have grown more wary. “Who are you? Where did you learn to fight like that?”
Owen pursed his lips together. Anything he gave him right now would only lead Adams to figure out his name, and he didn’t need that information. But it was pointless. Owen saw the moment recognition dawned in Adams’ eyes.
“I’ve figured it out,” Adams said, chuckling. “I know where I’ve seen your face.”
“You’re McInness. You are, aren’t you?” Adams asked. When I didn’t reply, he went on. “Merrick, you remember this guy? Kicked out of the Academy. And here he is. Assigned to a platoon under us.”
“That’s my name,” Owen said. He prepared himself in case Adams attacked again. Behind him, the recruits fanned out.
“You maggots know who it is you’re following there? You might want to consider whose side you want to be on. If you knew what this asshole has done…” Adams said.
“We do know,” Roberts replied, stepping up alongside Owen.
“We also know an even bigger asshole when we see one,” Kowal added, joining Roberts. The other recruits grunted their assent.
Adams backed off. “OK, enough of this. Calm down, and you can have your guy back. It was just a little fun.”
“How much fun was Thompson having?” Owen spat out, advancing another step. His fury was rising again. He wanted to fight, to wipe the floor with this guy. Teach him to never prey on anyone ever again. It would feel so good…
But it would be a mistake. With a massive effort of will, Owen reined in his anger. He stared Adams dead in the eye. “This can end one of two ways. You can go back to your beds, and never again so much as cast an angry glare at anyone from our platoon, or…” He let my voice trail off.
“Or what?” Of course, Adams had to ask.
“Or we all beat the living shit out of you, and you wake up in the base hospital sometime next week,” Roberts re
plied.
That would do. Owen might have put it a little more poetically, but it would do. “Your call.”
Adams glared at them all, but he backed away. He beckoned to Merrick, who went to his side. Then he turned to Harper. “You’d better not sleep tonight, shithead. I won’t forget.”
Without another word, Adams and Merrick fled the light of the shelter into the night, toward their tents.
“You can camp with us,” Owen told Harper. Then he realized he should probably have asked Roberts about it first. Owen glanced his way.
Roberts rolled his eyes but nodded. “Of course you can. I’ll send Alpha Team with you to get your gear, then we’ll bed you down with the platoon. Double shifts on the guard duty tonight, I think.”
There were a few groans, but not many. No one thought it sounded like a bad idea.
As Owen stepped from the shelter to make his way back to his sleeping bag, he heard a faint buzzing sound. He saw the flash of something small shining briefly in the shelter light as it flitted past through the air. Then it was gone, buzzing off into the night.
But Owen knew what he’d seen. That was a micro-drone, a remotely piloted flying robot that would have fit his palm. Someone had been watching everything go down. Was it the drill instructors? If it was, why hadn’t they intervened? Whoever it was, what did they intend to do with the information?
He’d been kicked out of the Academy for fighting. Maybe he’d thought there was a good reason at the time, but it wasn’t worth the cost. He’d lost everything that day and was only just starting to scrape together a life again. Owen couldn’t bear the thought of losing this chance, too.
But damned if he regretted stepping in to help Thompson. It felt like the right thing to do. He only hoped the powers-that-be agreed with him.
Owen’s sleep for the remainder of the night was anything but restful.
Sixteen
The next day dawned too damned early. Between the action the night before and the extra guard duty, Owen was already wiped out and the sun was only just coming up. But it had been worth it. Everyone pitched in on the extra shifts. Nobody complained. The whole platoon was working together to make sure nothing like that night happened again.
Maybe the drill cadets decided discretion was the better part of valor, or perhaps they’d seen the extra guards and decided it wasn’t worth the trouble to come after them again. They left the platoon alone for the rest of the night.
Owen rolled up his bedding and took down the shelter, carefully bagging everything back up into his rucksack. There would be more marching and then training ahead. Tired as he was, Owen couldn’t help but look forward to the day. This was a hard life, sometimes a shitty life, but it was the life he’d chosen.
Besides, having the entire platoon show they had his back the night before warmed Owen’s heart. Maybe there was something to all that stuff about working together with others. He’d been a loner ever since that hellish day in Miami. He’d pushed everyone away, tossed aside all offers of help. If he didn’t rely on anyone else, then he wouldn’t be hurt if they suddenly weren’t there anymore. But maybe he’d been wrong. Being alone might not be enough after all.
Owen started over toward the road to take his place in line, but Sergeant Graham called out to him. He was standing alone, about fifty feet off to one side of the road. Near the shelter. That made Owen wonder just what he wanted. Had the drone the night before been his? There was no way to know for sure, but you didn’t keep a drill instructor waiting, not if you knew what was good for you. Owen hit a double-time over to him.
“Yes, sir?” Owen asked.
“Anything you want to tell me, recruit?” Graham asked.
Owen pursed his lips, wondering what he already knew and what the right answer might be. Probably saying nothing was safest. “No, sir.”
“Nothing at all? Looks like something happened over here last night. Must have been quite the party,” Graham said.
Owen blinked toward the shelter, using his peripheral vision, and tried not to wince. The drill cadets hadn’t cleaned things up after the recruits left. Bits of rope and a couple of overturned chairs shouted that something had happened there louder than words.
“No, sir,” Owen repeated.
He cocked a little half-smile at Owen, pausing to look deep into his eyes. Owen tried to tell himself the DI was just trying to make him sweat, but it was working anyway. Then Graham took a swift step away and pulled something out of his pocket. Owen knew what it was instantly: the drone.
Well, shit.
“Seems like you ought to know something about all this, based on the footage I saw,” Graham said. Then he held up a hand before Owen could open his mouth. “But maybe we ought to consider this little matter already settled. I’ve already shipped Cadet Adams and Cadet Merrick back to the Academy with a negative rating.”
“Did you say why?” Owen blurted out before he could stop himself. Graham frowned in response, but Owen managed to keep his eyes locked straight ahead. If he sent that video, it would damn Harper along with the others. He didn’t deserve that. “Sir.”
Graham continued to look down his nose toward Owen like he was a dog that had decided to suddenly start speaking, so he slammed his mouth shut again. Graham shook his head. “No. I don’t need to. Their scores sucked to begin with, or they’d never have had this duty. My negative rating, plus sending them back only days after they got here? They’re sunk. If they’re lucky, they might still graduate and be placed into some harmless administrative posting, but nobody is going to let them lead people into combat.”
Owen heaved a quiet sigh of relief. If he wasn’t saying why, then he wasn’t sending the video. Harper was safe. Owen wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that, since Harper should have stepped in to actually stop what Adams was doing. He should have stood up to him from the start. He hadn’t, which made Owen question just how good an officer he was going to wind up being.
But then again, wasn’t that why they were all doing this training? To learn, to grow, to get better? Owen screwed up and got a second chance. He figured Harper deserved that shot, too.
Graham dropped the drone to the ground and stomped on it, surprising Owen. “Damn, looks like we lost another of those things to a training accident. Happens all the time, though. No worries.”
Owen heaved a silent sigh of relief. His biggest fear was that Graham would see the events of the night before as an excuse to eject him from the training program. This really was his last shot. If he screwed this one up, Even General Hereford would be done with him. He needed this.
“Thank you, sir. I was worried I’d screwed things up,” Owen said.
“Screwed it up?” Graham’s face crinkled up, and I heard a rare sound from him: laughter. “Kid, you’ve got balls of steel, going in there. You did it for the right reasons, too. You stood up for your buddy. Your platoon-mate.”
That knot of tension started slowly unwinding in Owen’s gut.
“I want soldiers who will have each other’s back, damn it. On the battlefield, in a bar, wherever,” Graham said. He looked Owen up and down, then nodded. “You’ll do. Dismissed.”
Owen turned to leave, fighting to keep the smile from his face. Relief warred with pride. When was the last time he’d heard Graham praise anyone? He couldn’t recall a time.
Before he’d gone two steps, Graham called out to Owen one last time. “Oh, recruit?”
Owen froze, then turned back.
“You showed hella leadership out there, too. Not just any man can get all his buddies to show up and put themselves at risk for him,” Graham said. “There are more kinds of leaders than just officers. Remember that once you’re out there.”
He gestured toward the sky. Then he nodded for Owen to be on his way. Owen turned back toward the road, toward his platoon. His buddies? After last night, sure. Even Thompson, damn it, who he was going to get through this training cycle even if it killed both of them.
And then? The stars
. Owen couldn’t help but smile at that. Before he was going to be ready for that, though, he needed to get that anger under control. Sure, he’d done OK against the drill cadets. He hadn’t lost it and rushed in swinging. Owen was proud of how much control he’d managed to show.
But it had been hard, way harder than it should have been. Owen thought back to before Miami. He never used to pick fights with people. It wasn’t his style. He’d finish fights, but not start them. This wasn’t him, at least not the person he wanted to be. But if the events of the night before had taught Owen anything, it was that sometimes he needed help.
This time, he knew where to go to find some.
Seventeen
The field expedition had ended with an exciting bang: the trainees were allowed to pilot actual Armor for the first time! The simulation was good, but it wasn’t the same thing, not by a mile. Owen still felt the rush even after they were marched back to the barracks area at the end of the day. Yes, this he could see himself doing.
With the suit around him, he felt strong, impregnable, invincible even. Oh, he knew that wasn’t really the case. Armor could be shattered, the people inside crushed. But that knowledge didn’t diminish the sensation of raw power piloting one of the suits gave him.
Even the thought of having another session with James couldn’t dim the day. Actually, Owen was surprised that he felt comfortable about the idea of coming to see the therapist. Maybe for the first time, he was interested in talking with him. His experiences with the drill cadets had shown him that his anger remained a genuine threat to his future. If he couldn’t find a way to control it, then it would control him instead.
That wouldn’t do. He’d been able to tell when he was growing furious, which let him do something about it in the moment. But he wanted more than that. Owen had a growing sense that the way his anger sometimes ruled him wasn’t good for him or anyone else around him. He didn’t know how to resolve that. But James might.
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