by LC Morgans
Kyra was furious with herself for being beaten so easily. She lunged at him and ended up climbing onto Silas’s back. She wrestled his arms with her strong thighs and twisted in an attempt to make him fall over, but he was too fast for her. He positioned her so she hit the ground first, and then pinned her arms above her head. Silas had ended up nestled between her open thighs, their faces close enough for Kyra to see the flash of need in his eyes. He reared back, pulling her arms down to her chest, where he crossed them over one another and effectively rendered her immobile.
“Asshole,” she moaned.
“Do you give up?” he asked, pressing her hands into the mat while his hips rocked stealthily into hers.
“Never,” she replied, and earned herself a smile.
“Good. Then get out of this hold,” Silas demanded, and while she loved the heat in his stare, she was very aware of their audience, so assessed her position. After a wriggle and an attempt to twist away, she bucked wildly and heard the wind rush from his lungs as she successfully caught him in the chest with her crossed arms. In the split-second he relinquished his hold, Kyra pulled out of his grasp and clambered to her feet. She ran for the door and grabbed the handle, before turning back and accepting the round of applause from her fellow recruits. Silas stood and grinned at her, before letting his mask fall back into place. “Very well, Millan. The rest of you, pick a partner and start practicing. I don’t want to see blood or tears; we’re in this together. This is for your own benefit, for the good of the platoon—not personal enjoyment.” He raised an eyebrow before rolling his shoulders in readiness for his second round with Kyra. She came back to the mat and watched as the others began their attacks, all the while eyeing the man she knew she was supposed to be fighting off warily. She didn’t want to fight; she wanted him to take her. Damn, this promise she’d made herself to wait was getting harder and harder to keep.
***
“The final exercise for primary training starts at zero-eight-hundred hours. You’ll split into your platoon’s and your Commander will be given an envelope. Inside that envelope contains instructions they must follow in order for their platoon to succeed. You will not know what is inside that envelope, so must follow all orders as given to you by your Platoon Commander.” Lt. Psy addressed the crowd of recruits in his usual, hard way. They were all stood to attention, ready for their last few days of primary training to be over with, so those who passed could move on to their secondary phases. Kyra would be one of the recruits asking to stay on at Fort Angel so she could try out for the Intelligence Division. In order to make their computer and technological sciences department she had to first prove herself in both the combat and tactical training areas. There she would learn about some of the confidential aspects of the Human Royal Armed Forces, as well as more in depth knowledge about their Thrakorian masters. Silas would go back to training the new recruits, but she hoped he’d still be around enough so they could spend their tiny snippets of free time together.
“Yes, sir!” the recruits all cried when Psy was finished, and they began checking their packs one last time to ensure they had everything they might need. Kyra was pleased with herself and her progress. She’d never doubted she’d make it this far, but there had always been the fear of failing that’d kept her going in the harder times. Silas had helped tremendously, and in ways she would always adore him for. He’d become a constant source of support she’d never once thought she’d needed, someone who made her feel wanted and beautiful. He told her every evening before sending her off to bed how gorgeous she was, even in her army combats, and she loved him for making her feel so good about herself. Kyra lived for the accomplishment she felt when he was impressed by her skills in training, and was also very aware of how the end of her primary phase brought with it two weeks of much needed down time. Summer leave was a beacon on the horizon, and she couldn't wait for promised long, lazy days spent without the pressures of training, or the scrutiny from her commanding officers.
Most recruits would go home to their families, but Kyra had none to go back to. There was no need for her to go to the foster home, and even the thought of going back to the L.A slums filled her with dread. It hadn’t been an awful upbringing, but there was nothing and no one there for her to return to. Silas had told her very little about his home or family, but he didn’t seem keen on going back either, and she hoped he might suggest them staying at the base together and hiding away if they could, or else find another hideaway they could spend their summer leave together in. Kyra pushed all thoughts of the break away though, and focused on the task at hand. First they had to get through the final exercise. They had no idea how their platoon was doing in the running for the number one spot, but felt confident they’d given McD a placing near the top. In order to ensure their success, they needed top marks for the final primary exercise, and she readied herself for anything the Commander would throw at them.
“Pack light, Recruits.” In just three words, Silas had given them one of his codes for the exercise. Packing light meant they were headed for a landscape of heat or water, not snow or cold and wet conditions, so she quickly discarded her heavy jacket and waterproofs. Kyra then followed his lead and they regrouped at the entrance to the exercise area. They waited for the clock to toll the change of hour, and then followed behind Silas as he led them through a small entryway into a dark corridor. He only opened the connecting door once their path back out was closed, locked and secured from the outside. There was no choice but to move forward, and when the blaring sunshine hit her face, Kyra quickly pulled out her hat and sunglasses.
They formed a small semi-circle around McD, and listened intently while he issued his orders. “We need to scale this terrain and retrieve the flag with our platoon emblem at the finish. We then rendezvous back here, and the clock will stop once we are back out that door,” he said, and pointed to the door behind them. “Follow my lead and do everything I say. Speed is of the essence, so we’re not hanging around anywhere longer than absolutely necessary. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the recruits replied in unison, and they fell in line behind him as Silas began running toward the huge sand dune before them. When they reached its peak all the recruits gasped in surprise. Their usual desert training area had been transformed into a route of sand, water and forest followed by a huge peak she guessed they must need to climb in order to retrieve their flag at the top. They'd been warned to expect soldiers on their secondary phase training posing as rebels, and she made sure her weapon was within easy reach should they be attacked. Any recruit that took a hit from one of their high-tech darts or was detained by the ‘rebels’ would lose points for their team, but a fast score would hopefully cancel out any demerits, so they all knew to just keep pushing on as much as was physically possible. Speed was key to passing their assessment with a good score, and if they had to, they’d put their personal needs like food and rest aside in order to achieve one.
Chapter
Four
The platoon set off toward the mountainous structure in the distance. Kyra guessed it must be over ten miles away, and readied herself for hours of running. The heat from the sun was intense, but bearable, and she saved her water for future use—just in case. She tabbed alongside the others and scanned the areas to the left and right. No sign of trouble so far. The group then closed in and continued to check the perimeter as they reached the edge of a huge lake.
“Can we swim across?” one of her fellow recruits, Jonas, asked. They all looked to McD for advice, but he simply scowled. She could tell he wasn’t able to help them more than absolutely necessary, and the others quickly figured out that his silence meant they had to decide for themselves as well.
“Too far,” another of her comrades answered, and she agreed. Kyra then looked up and down the shoreline in search of an answer, and spotted something out of place just over a ridge. She grabbed the binoculars from her pack and peered through them, and beamed at what she saw.
“Ther
e are three boats to the west. Unmanned, but they must be guarded. I say we take a look, and relieve them from whoever is watching over them,” she told the group, and many of the others followed her example by grabbing their binoculars to take a look.
“Friend or foe?” another recruit, Jett asked, and suddenly all eyes were on Kyra for an answer. Silas stayed silent, and she guessed he knew exactly when and where to offer help or guidance, but otherwise stayed out of the recruits’ final exam. She wasn’t sure she was ready to lead just yet, but it seemed there was no other choice, and so she took a moment to think it over, and gave the order.
“Let’s take a closer look. Send in one recon recruit to check for rebel markings and if so, we take them out. Agreed?” she offered, and received firm affirmations. Regardless of it being an exercise, she knew they'd lose points if they attacked an allied camp, so knew it was worth spending a few extra minutes checking to be sure. She gave Jett a nod and watched as he opened his mouth to complain, but then seemingly thought better of it. He ran forward a few feet, and then ducked down before leopard-crawling the rest of the way. At the top of the next dune he stopped, watched for a few seconds and then retreated a few meters. Kyra watched through her goggles as he gave them the hand signal to signify he’d encountered rebels, and she immediately started toward him. The rest of their platoon followed, and took refuge at the base of the dune. Using only hand gestures, they agreed to spread out around the bank and attack in exactly thirty-seconds.
Soon they were charging over the ridge and into the base camp of eight secondary phase soldiers posing as rebels. Shots were fired, but they seemed genuinely caught off guard by the attack, and each took a simulated bullet from the recruits that registered as a fatal wound. The technology behind the new darts was a wonder to Kyra. She marveled at how they sensed the angle and placement of the bullet, before turning either green, yellow or red. Green meant it was considered a flesh wound and you could continue on. Yellow meant you’d had a serious injury so needed to play casualty, and red meant death for the supposed victim.
After checking the area and taking the boat keys from the men playing dead on the sand, they ran for the crafts. As she climbed up and over into the closest hover boat though, a sharp slap between her shoulder blades caught her off guard. “Crap, have I been hit?” she shouted, showing her back to Silas, who nodded. His face told her everything, if this was a real life combat situation, she would be dead.
“Wait, it’s not changing color,” Jonas called from behind her and they watched her back while Kyra waited for what felt like forever for an answer. Silas was staring over at the beach thoughtfully, and then turned back to her.
He grabbed the dart and threw it overboard, and shook his head when she went to question him.
“It doesn’t count, it was just one of the rebel players being an ass. That’s why it didn’t change color. His weapon has been deactivated because he’s had a fatal hit.”
“Thank you,” she managed in reply, and he nodded. Relief swept through Kyra so fast she actually felt lightheaded. She wanted to jump back out of the boat, find the guy who’d shot her, and give him a swift punch to the nose, but knew there wasn’t any time to waste. The main thing was that she hadn’t been taken out of the exercise in the first few minutes, and she got her head right back in the game rather than dwell on her near miss.
Silas started the boat and steered them towards the opposite side of the lake. He didn’t say a word, in fact none of them did. There was no celebrating or chatting to be done yet. That would only come after the flag had been retrieved, they were back at base, and their scores were tallied.
As soon as their boots hit the sand on the other side, the platoon re-grouped and looked to Silas for his orders. He stood with his back to the wilderness, and took stock of his men and women for a moment before addressing them.
“This area is a known rebel hold. We need to get to the other side of this forest as soon as possible, so we do not engage unless absolutely necessary. A fight will only slow us down. Move stealthily and carefully through the paths, and watch your backs. Constantly check the periphery all around, including above,” he pointed up into the treetops. “It is safe to assume there are only rebels in our path from here onward. Consider every person ahead as hostile. If they see us they will engage, so you shoot first. A dead soldier loses us valuable points, but if they capture you alive, they’ll strip us of even more. Go down fighting. Never give up, and never give in.”
“Yes sir!” they cried in agreement, and then filed in behind him.
Progress was slow through the dense forest, but after a couple of hours they eventually managed to reach a small meadow where they took a moment for a breather and to have a sip of water. Kyra pulled out her specialist binoculars again and fiddled with the settings, rather than rest. This felt too easy, and knew she’d only take a break once she was sure the coast was clear. After switching them to night-vision mode regardless of the sunshine, she stood on the edge of the small patch of grass peering into the dark woods. There was no movement out there, but something caught her eye and she zoomed in as far as the glasses would allow.
There was an intricate carving on one of the trees to the west. It resembled a star, but had one point slightly longer than the others, as if it was an arrow. She slowly followed the trajectory east and eventually spotted another, and another. The final star shape had its elongated edge pointing upward, and it was only when she lowered the goggles that Kyra realized they were heading straight for an ambush. The arrow pointing up was directly in their path to the mountain, and every synapse in her brain fired in warning. The rebels might be located above the ground in that area, and would attack if their platoon wandered underneath their camp on their way to the summit. If they were ambushed by ten or more rebels, they’d easily lose half of their men, no doubt about it, and she quickly scanned the east side of the woods to check for more symbols. There were none.
Going east might take longer, but she was sure it would result in less casualties and a higher chance of success when it came to the climb for the flag.
“Something to say, Recruit?” Silas was in full Commander mode, and Kyra knew he’d picked up on her findings.
“Yes, Sergeant. We’re headed north, correct?” he nodded. “I believe an eastern approach would be better.” A smile curled at his lips, but he quickly hid it away. He was impressed, and she reveled in that tiny glimpse of pride he’d shown in her tactical instinct.
“Why? A northern route will be quicker and more direct. The eastern woods are darker, indicating that they’re denser. It will take us longer,” Silas replied, and made sure he said it loud enough for the others to hear. The rest of their platoon began shuffling and murmuring, clearly interested in their conversation, and Kyra took a deep breath. She knew she had to be sure of her intel, and of her ability to lead their group safely if she were to voice this opinion, and took a moment to gather her thoughts. This was an exercise, so no one would really get hurt, but she knew that in a real-life scenario she’d do the right thing and follow her instincts. If this were her platoon, she would lead them east, no doubt about it.
“I believe that straight ahead is a rebel stronghold, and by continuing to head north we’ll walk directly into a trap. They know we’re going for the flag, and this is the most direct route to it. Also, there are clues, directions of sorts for the rebels to follow to their base, and it leads there.” She pointed directly ahead and the others followed her gaze into the forest. “I say we change course. Head east and then follow the curve back before taking the mountain from that side rather than head-on.”
There was silence as the others deliberated over her given opinion. They seemed torn, and rightly so. After all, McD had given them an order to head north, and now Kyra was offering an alternative based on clues they hadn’t seen. Silas had stayed quiet, and she guessed it was all part of his brief to let the recruits decide things like this for themselves, but she hoped he might at least give her
a warning look if she was going way off course or making a huge mistake.
“Let’s do it,” Jett answered with a kind smile, and he stood to join her on the eastern edge of the small meadow. Many of the others joined them, but a final few hovered by the northern edge.
“But, what if it takes longer? Surely speed is more important than evasion? If we fight our way through the rebel camp we’ll be at the rock face before nightfall, if we go east it could be morning. I say we keep heading north,” Jonas was the one who spoke for them, and she couldn't deny him wanting to voice his own opinion. Kyra appreciated his honesty, and was glad to see he was airing his concerns. They could all agree there were two very viable options, and so they all looked to Silas for his final decision. As Platoon Commander, he was their leader, and had the last say. Kyra told herself that if he said they should continue north, she would go without any argument. This final exercise was their chance to showcase all the fundamental things they'd learned throughout their training, and she’d done that just by offering up an alternative route, whether they took it or not.
