by Raylan Kane
The man stands, I feel a violent wind on the back of my head as the two serious fools behind me snap to attention; I stand as well.
“There’s no need,” he’s waving me back down to my chair. “At ease gentlemen.”
There’s an energy about this guy that I actually like. He is imposing in appearance, but he has an affable way about him. He’s walked half way down the table toward me, and turned to look back next to his chair where a white screen descends from the ceiling.
“This was video captured at a fuel depot outside Hyll just over a month ago,” the mister said.
There I am, hunter’s fuel tuck beneath my arm.
“You are aware that such footage existed?” The man said.
“I had an idea.”
“Yet you went ahead anyway.”
“I had a plan. I needed the fuel-“
“Curses to the consequences?”
“It’s what needed to be done.”
“And here – you get by one of our own. This is one of our recruits you push away here.”
“Yes, I am familiar with him.”
“Familiar’s a good word.”
The man holds a small black remote. He pushes a button with his thumb and the footage has switched to an aerial view of my confrontation with Rygan – whatever his name is, Milne’s boyfriend – and his friends. And of course, there’s Milne; I had planned to travel back to Hyll after returning home and look for her, so much for that.
The man approaches and leans over me, a little too close for comfort.
“How does a hay farmer do that?” He said pointing to the screen. “You bested four of Jye Region’s top recruits without weapons. You put all of them in a wellness center for at least a month – curses, you almost killed two of them. Care to explain how you did that?”
“Just my lucky day, I guess.”
“No. No way. A hay farmer from who-knows-where in the middle of cursed Gust Region? That doesn’t square. Who are you son? Who are you really?”
“You know who I am. You ran my genetic panels when you locked me up.”
“I didn’t lock you up. That was the constabulary.”
“Whoever.”
“Young man, there are few men on all of Sydin, or Das for that matter, who can do what you did in this video, not without training. Your talent for violence is extraordinary – no hay farmer knows how to do all of that.”
“Apparently that’s not true,” I said.
“Apparently.”
The man shuts the screen off. He’s sitting against the edge of the table staring at the wall in front him looking as though he’s in deep thought.
“Are we done here? Can I go back to my cell now? I don’t even know why the Low Command is bothering-“
“I don’t work for Jye Low Command. I’m here from Niona.”
Whoa. What?
“Oh, pardon me, where are my manners,” the man said. “My name’s Joggard, I’m with Sydin Planetary High Command.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
"You report directly to the Chancellor," I said.
“My reputation precedes me.”
“Why would you be interested in me?”
“There are many things you don’t know,” Joggard said.
“Like?”
“You have been convicted of some fairly serious crimes. You could stay locked in a holding cell for quite a long period of time.”
“I know this. You think I don’t know this?”
“You are here because you have another option.”
“Another option? What? Death by firing squad for hurting those military boys?”
“Not quite. You were brought to my attention by Commander Luin at Jye Low Command. Are you familiar with him?”
“No.”
“The truth is we’ve been working on a special project that we think you might be perfect for.”
“Not interested.” I’ve read about High Command’s “special projects”, I think I’d be better off with incarceration; perhaps even the firing squad.
“You haven’t even heard what the project is.”
“I don’t need to – I can only imagine what schemes the High Council’s dreamed up, or the High Command itself for that matter.”
“What? You think this is something about killing people? Stealing secrets?”
“You do anything else?”
“Such a narrow mind. I’m disappointed.”
“Can I go back to the detention center now?”
“Here’s the thing; I’m not buying this whole disinterested vibe you’re throwing off. You are a man of ambition. You want to achieve great things. I can see it in you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Your stubbornness will get you killed one day, you know that don’t you?”
Not the first time I’ve heard that.
“Unfortunately for you – or fortunately – however you choose to look at it,” the man said, “I’m not letting you off the hook so easily. Your talents are extraordinary, and we could use you – at least, I think we could, but your evaluation is not yet complete. You see this project we’re working on, we need Sydin’s best – and we think you could be among them.”
“You got all that from a few videos?”
“Among other things.”
“See what you’re not getting is, I don’t really care about your special projects. I have no love for the High Command, or the High Council for that matter. You ask me, I’d say you’re as corrupt as the Days of the Sun are long.”
“Well here’s the part where your righteous indignation and your stubborn refusal to bend runs into the brick wall of reality – my reality. The fact is I believe you may be qualified for this project, and in order to see if I am correct – and to prove it to the High Council – you will be forced to be evaluated.”
“Forced?”
“Yes. You have a choice young Bramen. You will either choose to take part in our evaluation of your fitness for our project, or you will spend the rest of your life locked in a tiny cell. I will personally see to it. Oh, and you will be fed clone, so you can bet your time in that 8-by-8 chamber will be long indeed.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Yes, and what about your parents?”
“What about them?”
“Hold Farms – that’s the name of it, yes?” He said. “Would be a shame for your folks to lose their farm, after all these years of sweat and toil.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, but we would, and worse. Not only would you enjoy the comforts of that small space forever, but your parents would be shipped off to a clone farm. Who knows maybe one day they could wind up part of your meal.”
I jump from my chair throwing a fist toward Joggard, the two serious men behind me have my arms locked. They have me held in the seated position.
“Don’t touch my family. They are not to blame for my crimes.”
“No, but they can be held responsible for your lack of patriotism.”
“What do you want? You want me to do this “evaluation”?”
“We’re talking about what you want. What do you want Bramen?”
“My old life – on the farm.”
“That is no longer possible.”
“What are you asking of me?”
Joggard points the remote at the screen again, and a series of images form a collage on screen of young military recruits with various pained expressions on their faces as they appear covered in ropes, some of them are soaking wet. All of the pictures appear to have been taken outdoors.
“Every year thousands of recruits try out for the High Command’s Special Project Sector by taking part in our annual evaluation – affectionately known as ‘The Grim’.”
“The Grim consists of three separate components – physical, mental, emotional – you will be tested to your very core in all three. If you are as exceptional as I think you are, you will
be among the top three finishers.”
“Out of thousands?”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t finish in the top three?”
“I believe we’ve covered that.”
“This isn’t really a choice at all. I either finish at or near the top out of thousands of military recruits, or my life is over, and the lives of my parents for that matter.”
“You could choose to see it that way. Or you could think of it as a grand opportunity – a fortunate event, a pit stop along the way to a long and fruitful existence.”
“How long do I have?”
“To prepare for The Grim?”
“Yes.”
“Should you accept my offer, your transport leaves for Thiel Region first thing in the morning. The Grim begins the day after.”
“Can I not have more time to think on it than mere hours?” I jostle in my chair and the men beside me hold me down with an even tighter grip on my shoulders.
“You may want to save your energy; and yes, I expect a firm answer by morning.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The Hyll Detention Center is massive. There are metal gangplanks on all sides of the main holding area; they go up six levels from the main floor. Women and men bellow from behind bars at the sign of anyone being moved about on the main floor by the guards. The holding cells are small, and no one may leave them unless accompanied by guards. We have reached Cell 5-92, my cell. Standing there in regular clothing is my blue friend, Trident. Two guards push me inside and stand in wait on the other side of the bars.
“You have seen better days,” Trident said.
“I have. Indeed,” I reach a hand out to Trident and we shake. “I did not expect to see you again. Where did they send you? Some place without prison garb, fortunate for you.”
Trident looks to the floor. “I am not incarcerated.”
“What do you mean? I am being threatened with a life sentence. They let you go?”
“They sent me to a clone farm.”
“You are fooling with me.”
“I wish it were so.”
“How is it you are here then?”
“I told them I belonged to Foil Farm – named my father as my owner.”
“Clever.”
“It took a week before I was able to get the attention of a cloneman. Six cold nights spent on concrete floors,” he said.
“What brings you here?”
“Bramen, you must take part in the Grim. The High Command is gunning for you to join them. You are unlike any hay farmer I have ever met – with talents that will take you far.”
“This is why you came? They have sent you here to convince me to join their foolish ranks? They are persistent – and clever to use you in this way.”
“Bramen you must take part. You cannot throw your life away. The lives of your parents.”
“You expect me to believe you came to defend my parents – people you have not had the good fortune to meet?”
“At least it is a chance for freedom.”
“A chance for freedom? Are you mad? Do you not know of the High Command’s ways? Torture, genocide, human experimentation, war. They want to use me as yet another implement in their destructive toolkit. They have manipulated you into this. They don’t care about freedom – yours or mine.”
“It is not so simple.”
“On the contrary, it is very simple. I will not be complicit in their antics.”
Trident’s face has dropped; he looks to be holding back tears.
“What is it, my friend? You tell me why I am wrong. Is there another reason you are here?”
Tears stream from Trident’s eyes. “I am not supposed to share this with you.”
“What is it? Tell me.”
Trident breaks down into a silent cry. He kneels and his shoulders quake as he puts his hands over his face. The guards outside the cell do not seem to notice or care. I kneel and place a hand on Trident’s shoulder.
“The High Command put you up to this, I know it. What have they promised you? What am I dealing with here? Something they’re going to do to you if I say no?”
Trident looks up at me with red eyes.
“Tell me. They will lock you up for life, like me, is that it? What else? Did they threaten your family? Tell me.”
“It is so much worse.”
“Worse?”
“Bramen, they said that if I left here without convincing you they would kill me and my family. Your family too.”
“These are idle threats; they are trying to force me to comply. The Grim is no recruiting test, it is a sick game the High Councilors play.”
“I assure you they mean what they say. The threat is real. They mean to kill me, Bramen. Think about your family – they mean to kill them too. They said if you don’t enter The Grim and if you don’t win they will send all of us to the Haker – and that’s if The Grim doesn’t kill you first.”
“The Haker – they really said that?”
“Yes!”
The Haker is notorious to Sydinians – it is rumored to be where the High Command performs medical experiments on living subjects – vivisection is heard to be commonplace there.
“This cannot be true,” I said.
“They said they would make me watch as my family is dissected in front of me. I have small siblings, Bramen, babies – my family is innocent – they are good people.”
Trident falls forward into me with uncontrollable cries. The guards unlock the cell door, step in and grab the poor blue man off of me. Trident gives me a pleading look as he is taken away out of sight.
Another guard walked past my cell. I jumped to the bars. "Hey!"
“What is it prisoner?”
“I am hoping you can deliver a message for me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
A row of four buses idle outside Jye Regional Low Command Headquarters. My bus was the first to be loaded with eager recruits headed to Thiel Region to take part in the Grim – I sit three-quarters back on the right side next to the window. I am still in my blue prison garb – the only person on this bus not dressed in the customary maroon Low Command recruit uniform. My seat partner on the aisle is a quiet miss. The bus is a noisy chamber of excited chatter until a tall man wearing a gray uniform steps inside.
“Ladies and gents – listen up – we are about to leave for Thiel Region, we are waiting for the final bus to load. Anything you needed to square away before leaving on this trip should have been done by now – belongings, bathroom breaks, you name it. You will not leave this bus for any reason between here and the destination. Understood? The drive to Thiel is six hours. Settle in people, it’s a long ride.”
The gray man ducks out of the bus and walks past my window and out of view. Everyone was informed of the six hour ride beforehand – perhaps this is part of their evaluation – bladder control skills?
“Why are you not in uniform, recruit?” My seat partner said.
“Because I do not possess one. And my name is Bramen.”
“I’m Ri and everyone on this bus is a recruit. Perhaps you are on the wrong bus.”
I liked her better when I thought she was quiet.
“You are wrong, Ri. Everyone on this bus is not a recruit. I am not a recruit.”
The mister sitting in front of me turns and looks at me. “You are not a recruit?” He said. “I’m Byers, by the way.”
I shake Byers’ hand. “Again, no – not a recruit.”
“Then why are you here?” Ri said.
“Because I have been given no choice.”
“You would choose not to take the Grim?” Byers said.
“Shocking, I know.”
“Then what is that uniform you wear?” Ri said.
“A prisoner’s outfit.”
“You were in prison?” Byers said. His seat partner has also turned to face me.
“What did you do?” Ri said.
/> “I would rather not speak of it.”
“Are you a murderer?” Byers said.
“No more so than the Low Command.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rocky cliffs appear to my right. Looking ahead through the bus’s front window a grand blue-green mass appears as we drive down a steep slope.
“Look at all that water,” I said.
“Have you never been to the Thiel before?” Ri said.
Thiel Region gets its name from the Thiel, Sydin’s largest ocean. Thiel Region has a temperate climate, but from what I hear the ocean water here is colder than in other places.
“I have seen the waters in Hyll Harbor.”
“Hyll Harbor is tiny,” Byers said. “That is but a small piece of the Thiel. Furion City offers a wide open vista. It’s breathtaking.”
“We are not here as tourists,” Ri says. “We are here to win or die.”
“That sounds a bit extreme.”
“It’s true. People die every year,” the recruit ahead of my seat partner said. “Forgive me, my name is Warell. And yes, the Grim is serious business. One year they lost half the recruiting class. Cursed tragedy.”
“Lost them how?”
“The cliffs,” Ri said.
“No, they drowned,” Warell said. “Milne Clowe’s brother perished that day. It was a giant wave.”
Milne Clowe? Can he be speaking of the same miss?
“I believe there was a mass death at the Cliffs of Jidon,” Ri said.
“There was,” Warell said, “that was another year, and it was not half the class. The year half the class passed was the year of the giant wave.”
I am beginning to regret my decision to take part in this “evaluation”. “You spoke of Milne – Clowe, is it?” I say to Warell.
“You know her?”
“Blonde hair? Slight build?”
“Shockingly pretty – it’s okay you can say it,” Ri says.
“I hadn’t noticed,” I said, trying to assuage Ri’s ego.
“You would be the first,” Byers said. “She’s been a distraction for many a recruit.”
“So we are speaking of the same person,” I said.
