“You shouldn’t have let her see you,” Anais replied.
“I shouldn’t have kept her a secret from Kahale.” With Varya’s wrath to consider, her plan to survive suddenly became more complicated. “Maybe I can still turn her in.”
“No,” Anais said flatly. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Anais said. “She’s a fellow recruit.”
“It didn’t stop her from cracking that woman’s neck.”
“That doesn’t matter. Here in the service, we follow a code.”
“Screw the service. Screw the code.” Sibylla leaned forward onto her knees and let out a long breath. “What about that woman’s family? Don’t you think they’d like to know what really happened to their daughter?”
“Of course, they would, but—”
“But what?” Sibylla asked. “It didn’t seem to bother the other recruits.”
“That’s what you think,” Anais said. “Believe me, what they show you and how they really think are two different things. That’s why I can’t tell them about my secret. If they knew, things would change—immediately.”
Sibylla hissed in frustration. “That woman’s going to kill me, Anais. I can’t just let that happen.”
“Fine,” Anais said. “Just think it over, alright?”
“I guess you’re right,” Sibylla said. She sat up straight and ran a hand through her hair. “I mean what’s the worst that could happen ‘till then?”
The second she’d finished her last word, the lights of the barracks suddenly dimmed, and the sound of doors locking clicked through the air.
Rising to her feet, she turned to the room and found a yellow gas seeping from one of the air conditioning vents. It slipped out in a lazy curl, unfurling and slithering through the barracks, like a drunk snake.
Recruits clutched their throats as a noxious gas touched their lungs, and Sibylla and Anais cupped their mouths, trying to protect themselves from the approaching stench. But it was useless. Within seconds, Sibylla felt her throat tighten as something putrid and thick slid into her lungs, blacking her thoughts and closing her eyes.
12
The Armory
Sibylla opened her eyes to the sound of artillery firing in the distance. The noise was terrible. It trembled through the frame of the barracks and up to her brain, where it threatened to burst her already throbbing temples.
Rising to her hands, she stared at the room. It was spinning. She shut her eyes. Cupped her face. Grimaced as she fought to stay upright. What had they done to them last night?
All around her, recruits were stirring from their slumber. They uncoiled from the floor, their bodies shifting as they fought to balance themselves against the dizziness that held them captive. They rubbed their eyes. Coughed into fists. Some even vomited on the floor, the reek of it passing through the room like an evil spirit.
As they came to their senses, their gazes turned to the high walls, where shafts of bright morning light were beaming through the large windows.
“It’s the cannons,” Sibylla said, remembering the ceremonial artillery she’d first seen on the field when she got there. They were firing them in rapid succession, accompanying them with the blare of trumpet music.
“I wish they’d just shut up,” Anais said with squinted eyes.
“Are you okay?” Sibylla asked.
Anais blinked, shook her head, then gagged. “Oh no…”
Sibylla winced as vomit spewed from the Redhead’s mouth, spilling onto the tiled floor and spreading out in a rushing wave. The sudden stench of it caused Sibylla to cover her nose.
From the exits, exo-suited soldiers burst into the barracks, yelling at the recruits to get up. They kicked beds, tore off sheets, causing as much havoc as they could. When no one stood up, the soldiers responded by stinging them to life with the ends of their shock cylinders.
Like cows, Sibylla and the other recruits were herded onto the practice field, where they were driven toward an impressive building sitting on the other side of the Nest.
“Where are we going?” Sibylla asked.
“Looks like they’re taking us to the Armory,” Anais managed.
The Armory? A spark of anxiety lit inside Sibylla as a host of weapons appeared in her mind, and she suddenly found herself unable to move.
“Let’s go!” a soldier yelled, causing her to wake up from her stupor.
The building was state of the art. Stainless steel doors. Glass walls. Sensors at every checkpoint. Guards stood sentinel at every few feet, shouting insults at the stumbling recruits who were too dizzy to walk straight.
One fell to the floor as he turned the corner and a guard nearly knocked him unconscious as he kicked him in the stomach. Sibylla rushed to help him.
“Are you okay?” she asked, wrapping an arm around his waist and helping him up.
He looked at her with glassy eyes and nodded.
Eventually, the guards drove them into the heart of the building, and Sibylla saw a wide entrance framed by steel beams. Inside was a mini-warehouse of computers and weaponry, displaying what appeared to be every type of gun imaginable. She saw assault rifles, Piercer handguns, high-powered automatic shotguns with laser sightings. Anything a soldier could dream of. It was endless.
Overhead, an assembly line of exo-suits jerked across the ceiling, while tech engineers in orange jumpsuits hurried about the facility. They glanced at the data scrolls in their hands, exchanging information, as they directed the flow of human traffic. The frenzied pace left Sibylla feeling less like a person, and more like a car waiting to get a paint job.
“Next!”
Sibylla looked up and saw a lab tech waving her forward. The tech was a teacup of a woman; cocoa skin, large, warm eyes, a tight afro. But the woman’s face was all business.
“Come on!” the woman yelled. “I haven’t got all day.”
Sibylla stepped onto the raised platform with cautious feet. She wasn’t exactly sure what they were going to do to her. Glancing at the metal frame around her, she saw an assortment of tools. Plastic hoses. Electronic drills. Wrenches that were spread out from smallest to largest. There was even a power saw. She swallowed.
“Name?” the tech asked without looking up from her scroll.
Sibylla licked her lips as she thought. “Uh, Sibylla, Sibylla Cross.”
The tiny woman tapped the screen. “Okay, Private Cross. Here ya go.”
Behind her, a loud crash sounded, and Sibylla jumped in fear, waking her from the drug-induced malaise that was still lingering in her bloodstream. Turning around, she found an exo-suit standing before her. In all her life, she would’ve never thought that she’d be fitted for one. But here she was, standing before it. What would Dillon think of her now? Could he forgive her for this? The question made her feel sad, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying.
Carefully, she stepped into the suit’s metallic frame, allowing it to line up with the proportions of her body. It was a loose fit. Exo-suits only came in one size. Mass produced with a thin frame that could be adjusted, it required a team of engineers to fit each wearer.
The tech engineers went to work. They dug tools along the joints of her suit, drilling and twisting, fitting and locking. It was a flash of teamwork that left Sibylla breathless. When they were done, they locked the belt at her waist and stepped back, watching in anticipation as if something was supposed to happen.
And there it was.
Sibylla stiffened as she felt a charge of electricity flow through the suit’s frame. It was an unsettling resonance, but one that warned of power as well.
The tech handed Sibylla a comlink. It was much smaller than the one she and Dillon had used in the past, and its outer shell was much sleeker. Black, with the initials, G.P.T.O. written on the side, Sibylla reluctantly shoved it into her ear.
“And lastly,” the tiny woman said as she shoved a dark-gray helmet over Sibylla’s head. “To protect the brain.”
“You good?” the woman asked.
Sibylla looked around, noticing the holographic shapes floating around her. She saw temperature readings, battery percentages, target reticules that locked onto the surrounding recruits as if they were enemies. Sibylla nodded.
“Good. One more thing.” The woman lifted a syringe from a metal tray and plunged it into Sibylla’s arm.
Wincing, Sibylla stared at the spot on her bicep, her eyes bulging as she felt a sudden rush to her senses. The energy was instant. Her mind cleared and the malaise that had plagued her since she’d woken up vanished in a blink. “What was that?” Sibylla asked.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” the woman asked, smiling.
“More than good,” Sibylla marveled. “I feel like I could jump to the moon.”
“Well, I wouldn’t try that here.” The woman waved her away. “Now, get out of here.”
Sibylla paused as she wondered what to do next. She’d never used an exo-suit before. The mechanics of it were lost upon her. Glancing down at the steel rods that lined her arms and legs, she could only hope that she wouldn’t fall over.
Hesitating, she took her first step and saw that it moved well. Joints bent. Hydraulics pushed. But there was still some getting used to the lateral movements. All in all, though, it was okay.
The next station was the armory terminal. Techs handed out rifles over counters, issuing them with battle blades, cartridges of ammo and grenades. It was where Sibylla was finally going to get her gun.
This had been her greatest fear, the challenge that had lurked in the back of her mind since she’d accepted Murdock’s deal. To her, guns were the root of all evil, the cause of her father’s death and the reason why so many people had died over the centuries. She’d hidden the fear away in her mind, trapping it like a sharp-toothed rodent under a cardboard box, unwilling to face it until the last minute. But now the time had come.
“Next!”
Sibylla stiffened at the voice.
The tech was an older man with a receding hairline. His lips were thin, and his face was pursed in a perpetual look of annoyance. Eyeing her weirdly, he asked, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Sibylla took in a sharp breath, as her heart raced. “Nothing.”
He squinted at her, then shrugged. “Alright, here you go.” He placed a cartridge of ammo on the counter, along with a pair of grenades that were connected to a velcro strap. Then, turning to the wall, he pulled down one of the VK-26’s that was hanging on a rack and handed it to her. “Hurry up,” he said, waiting. “I haven’t got all day.”
The rifle hung in the air for a long moment as Sibylla struggled to raise her arms. They felt as if they were made of stone; something concrete and brittle that could break if pushed too hard. Just as her fingers neared the handle, though, she felt herself being shoved from behind.
“Let me see this,” Anais said, swiping the rifle from the tech’s hands. “Looks like something’s wrong here.”
“Hey!” he called out. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Checking your shoddy work.” Anais eyed the scope of the rifle with a squinted eye, then gave an absent shrug. “Hmm, guess I was wrong.”
“I should write you up for that,” the tech said.
“Maybe,” Anais said, holding the man’s gaze as she snapped the rifle to the magnetic holster on Sibylla’s back. “But then you’d have to explain why you let me do it in the first place. And I’d hate for someone as cute as you to get into trouble over a simple misunderstanding.”
The man noticeably straightened at the compliment, his round face brightening to an embarrassing blush. “Well, alright then,” he said. “But don’t let this happen again. Here, she’ll need this too.” The tech pulled out a battle blade from the rack and tossed it over the counter at them.
Anais caught it in midair. “Thanks, Cowboy.”
“Anytime,” he said, his eyes drifting over the parts of her body that could be seen through the titanium frame.
Pulling Sibylla away, Anais leaned into her ear and whispered, “You okay?”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Let’s just say I know what fear looks like.”
Sibylla sighed in relief. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” Anais said, arching a brow at her in suspicion. “Killer.”
13
The Challenge
The practice field was a beautiful lawn that swept across the center of the base. Along its sides, black flags embroidered with the silhouettes of red eagles flailed proudly in the wind, while at the far end, rising higher than any other building at the Nest, the statue of a golden eagle with outstretched wings sat upon a high pole, staring out at the East like a silent watcher.
Sibylla hurried after Anais like an idiot. She didn’t know where she was going. She’d already missed the first day and didn’t want to attract more attention. They raced to join the other recruits standing at the other end of the field. She’d never been in the service before, and according to Anais, so much had already happened that she was going to have to get into the scheme of things pretty quickly.
First of all, platoons had already been assigned. Eagles were allowed to choose who they fought alongside. It was a practice that they’d learned from the ancient Greeks. Secondly, Yumiko was their platoon leader. It made sense. Leaders were usually the most pushy, and most often, the most annoying.
“Where the hell have you been?” Yumiko demanded as Sibylla and Anais hurried into the frontline of recruits. They stood with their backs straight; their chins held high. It was unlike anything Sibylla was used to.
“Sorry,” Sibylla said as she did her best to mimic their postures. She was sweating from the vitamins in her system, and she felt weird, anxious, the surface of her skin tingling with a strange kind of heat that she’d never felt before. “I kind of ran into a complication.”
“Oh yeah?” Yumiko asked. “Like what?”
“She had to do her hair,” Anais said.
Yumiko’s jaw hardened. “Keep it up, Air Force,” she warned.
“Or what?” Anais baited.
“Or I’ll show you what a Marine can do.”
“Relax,” Tayshaun said, resting a hand on Yumiko’s shoulder. “The instructor isn’t here yet. It’s no big deal.”
Yumiko shrugged his hand away. “No big deal? You know what this means to me. I’m not going to blow this chance at leadership for anyone. Not for you. And definitely not for Red over there.”
The recruits stiffened as a trio of figures approached from the distance. They were donned in black exo-suits, carrying VK-assault rifles on their backs. Walking with a strut that screamed of arrogance, Sibylla realized that they were veteran soldiers.
They were only a few yards away when Sibylla recognized the one leading at the front. It was the scarred soldier, she realized with a pang of fear. The one who’d shot her on the transport.
“What the hell’s he doing here?” Sibylla whispered to Anais, the pain in her leg suddenly returning.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Anais replied.
“Tell me what?” Sibylla asked.
“He’s the instructor.”
Sibylla swallowed. She hadn’t seen the man since he shoved her over with his boot. Now that he was there before her, the memory of the transport came back to her in a surging flash. She saw the raised gun, the snarled face, the tip of the barrel as he aimed the Piercer at her thigh. With amazing detail, the pop of the gun sounded in her ears, and she felt the wound in her thigh tighten. How could this get any worse? she thought, already fighting against the rush of chemicals in her system.
As he reached the field, he let out a deep scowl, clearly disappointed by the sorry sight of new recruits standing before him. Striding along the front row, he examined the quiet faces with stern eyes, sud
denly coming to a halt as his gaze fell in Sibylla’s direction.
Sibylla froze. “Oh crap,” she whispered to Anais. “I think he saw me.”
“Relax,” Anais said. “He’s probably just staring at something else. Stay cool.”
Sibylla leveled her gaze at the pole across the field, hoping that Anais was right. Why would he care about her? She was just another recruit. He probably shot people in the leg all the time. What made her so special? Holding her breath, she suddenly felt her hopes dashed as she heard his voice.
“Well, well, well,” he said, a grin stretching across his face as he marched toward her. “If it isn’t the Killer herself.”
Sibylla cringed.
“Thought you’d be in the Brig by now, waiting to get picked up. But I guess you killed your way back, huh?”
Sibylla tried to stay calm. But it was nearly impossible. This was the man who’d shot her, the man who’d shoved her from thousands of feet in the air and probably hadn’t lost a moment’s rest thinking about it. Wanting to tell him to go to hell, she bit her tongue instead, knowing that she’d be punished if she did.
“How you doing, Killer?” he asked, leaning into her face.
Sibylla held fast. “I’m fine, sir.”
He snorted. “Yea, I bet you are. Looks like one bullet wasn’t enough to put you down, huh? Maybe you need another round to finish the job.” He reached for the Piercer at his waist and aimed it at her thigh, cocking the hammer back and pausing for a moment.
Sibylla gasped in terror as she saw the gun raised before her, her heart beating as an awful tremble quaked through her body.
“Well, Killer?” the instructor asked.
Sibylla clenched her jaw as she met the instructor’s gaze, determined not to give in. As scared as she was, she couldn’t let a bully like him push her around. “Maybe it wasn’t,” she whispered back, unwilling to look away.
Sibylla of Earth Page 10
