by John Murphy
“Take that high point and keep watch. All right? Wear your helmets while you’re on fire watch. The oxygen is necessary to help you stay alert. Do not fall asleep, fuckheads! In two hours, Benson, come get Killian as your relief watch. Got it?”
Benson nodded.
“How about an ‘aye, aye,’ there, candidate?”
Benson smirked. “How about, kiss my ass, you friggin’ dictator?”
“Fuck, Benson. What is it with you people and your lack of respect?”
“Why do you always gotta be such a dick about everything?”
“I’m in charge! I was put in charge by our mission commander, so show me some goddamned respect. Come on, candidates, maintain some military discipline! Now Benson, put on your fucking helmet and get your ass up there. And stay alert!”
Benson gathered up his helmet, pack, and plasma rifle, then stumbled past Killian and Sowell. “I don’t know, my ankle kind of hurts pretty bad,” he mumbled, exaggerating a limp as he went up the slope.
Sowell watched him go. “What was that about?”
Killian lay back on his mat. “He wants out of the program, and he wants me to cut his oxygen tube so it doesn’t look like he quit.”
Sowell stared at him. “Seriously?”
“I’m high on Veritas. Would I lie to you?”
Sowell whispered, “You gonna do it?”
Killian shook his head. “Not a chance.”
After a long moment, Sowell said, “You really want into Black Saber, huh.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Sowell leaned back on the sand and propped himself up on his elbow. “So what’s your story, man? Why are you like this crazy street fighter?”
Killian didn’t reply.
“Come on, man. Veritas truth time, ’fess up.”
Killian opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it.
“Come on, man.”
“To serve my country with dignity and honor.”
Sowell chuckled. “You heard that business, huh? Come on, man! Why all the mystery?”
Killian avoided looking at him.
“Okay, I got it. Me first, then. I’m in because my parents are renowned World Net schoolteachers.”
Mitchell, who wasn’t far from Sowell, said loud enough for the others to hear, “Miriam and Thomas Sowell, the most popular World Net teachers…in the world!”
“I’ve taken their classes!” Dohrn slurred. “I love them! They’re so inspiring.”
Vasquez jumped in. “Hey, no shit! That was you? I mean, they’re your parents? I love ’em, too!”
“Yeah, they’re awesome, dude!” Tucker said.
“Really, Sowell? They’re amazing teachers,” Kerrington said, sounding like an impressed peer rather than a cocky leader with his usual condescending attitude. “Outstanding, there, candidate!”
The attention on Sowell died down after he gave a few waves of thanks to the group, as if he were a revealed celebrity.
“See what I mean?” he whispered to Killian. “I live in their shadows. I kind of resent being defined by my parents. I’m trying to get into Black Saber to get away from that kind of shadow thing.”
“But isn’t Black Saber kind of a shadowy sort of business?” Killian asked.
“Yeah, I suppose it is. But they’re shadows of my own choosing. Now that I think about it, I guess I’m trying to create my own identity. I mean, I’ll always be their son, and people will always think of me in relation to them. But at least I’ll have accomplished something of my own. I’ll be TJ Sowell, Black Saber operative. Who we really are and what we do will always be classified, but it’s of my choosing. I can escape their celebrity.”
Killian nodded. “You must seriously want to hide from it, then.”
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”
Mitchell, still in earshot despite Sowell’s hushed tones, said, “My parents are physicists, and they’re both in the Global Alliance Science Ministry. I was expected to follow in their footsteps and do everything perfectly. Perfect grades, physics, concert pianist, everything. They wanted me to do my compulsory service in the Sciences Ministry.” She got up and dusted off the red sand, and stood before them with her back to the rest. “This is my rebellion.”
“Rebellion for what? For wanting you to be successful?” Killian asked.
She scrunched her face, then rubbed her hands over it vigorously. When her hands came away, her face was flushed and her eyes were rimmed with subtle tears. She looked into the distance and sighed. “Let’s just say I didn’t feel like being their lab rat anymore.”
Killian and Sowell exchanged puzzled glances.
Mitchell folded her arms across her chest and looked down. One of her jittery hands reached up and wiped away tears. She sniffed hard to stifle her emotions. She spoke quietly. “When I was about nine, I had surgery supposedly to remove a brain tumor. After I earned my master’s degree, I turned eighteen. They thought it an appropriate time to tell me that it wasn’t a tumor at all, but that it was an experiment conducted under the auspices of the Sciences Ministry. They extolled the virtues of what they’d done to me, the spectacular results, how it was ‘for the greater good.’ They refused to acknowledge the immorality of experimentation on unwitting children.”
She sniffed again, looking down. She glanced over her shoulder to see no one else was paying attention to their conversation.
“They also failed to anticipate my revulsion, as well as my subsequent course of action.”
Sowell asked, “Were there others?”
She nodded. “I deduced so from my circle of similarly gifted peers.”
Killian sat up. “It kind of sounds like a good thing, though.”
Sowell nodded in agreement.
“You probably can’t comprehend what it’s like to have your life substantially altered without your consent.”
“I see what you mean,” Sowell said.
Killian was transfixed. He wanted to embrace Mitchell, but he resisted the urge to do so. Of anyone, she might be able to understand him. Still, assuming such would be too much of a risk.
She grabbed her light stick and plasma rifle. “Gotta make a head call.”
Mitchell walked across the circle, her light stick illuminating the blackness beyond.
The others were engaged in drunken laughter and tossing pebbles at one another.
Goreman jumped up. “My daddy says I can do anything. I’m gonna be a spy!” With that, she did a spin and kick, coming to rest in an amateurish karate pose.
Killian guessed Goreman had been listening.
Not able to resist, Kerrington got up and struck a precise karate pose, bouncing on his toes. “You can spy on my ass anytime.”
“Better watch out, Mr. Black Belt,” Goreman warned. “I know some secret moves that’ll drop you flat.”
She took a teasing jab, which Kerrington easily batted away.
“I’ll bet you do.”
They began sparring lightheartedly, with touches and taps. Kerrington performed several precise poses to prove his mastery.
Spalding tossed a pebble at them. “Okay, you two love kittens, get a room already.”
“Naw, man!” Tucker said. “Do it right here so we can watch!”
“Yeah, show us your tits again, Goreman!” Spalding laughed.
Dohrn threw a handful of sand at him. “Shut up, you vulgar asshole!”
While the others focused on the dance, Sowell leaned in toward Killian. Just above a whisper, he said, “Veritas truth time, man. What’s your story?”
* * *
Within minutes of sitting down at the crest of a rise roughly one hundred feet away from the perimeter, Benson removed his helmet, pack, and rifle, and breathed deeply. He sat in a lotus-like meditation pose. Relaxation washed over
him, blessed relief from the arduous journey.
His head swam and he enjoyed it. The ballet of lightning bolts across the valley absorbed him. The cloud cover created a low ceiling, and the flashes of light illuminated things in ethereal ways. His high perch was like a front-row seat in his own personal theater of nature.
Euphoria swelled inside. He breathed deeply. His mind floated and swirled lazily. He closed his eyes in a deepening trance.
Rocks tumbled nearby. His brain zeroed in on the noise. Could it be an animal? He envisioned a cougar or some strange form of mountain cat wandering about its territory. Benson loved cats. He thought it would be heavenly to meet one. He didn’t open his eyes but envisioned a large, sleek cougar moving stealthily. He wondered what color it would be. A rainbow cougar would be amazing.
The thought occurred to him that maybe the sound was Kerrington spying on him. Yet the sound seemed like it had happened such a long time ago already, way before the rainbow cougar. If it were Kerrington, he would be yelling at him by now. He didn’t care.
He heard the rocks tumble again, closer this time.
He had better check it out. He opened his eyes ever so slightly.
A flash of lightning illuminated the silhouette of a frail human figure with a long mane of frizzy hair.
Benson tensed up; alarm coursed through his veins. He didn’t know if this was real or if he was hallucinating.
His legs cramping, he scrambled for the plasma rifle he’d set beyond his reach.
“Hey!” the figure rasped.
Nearly paralyzed in fear, Benson called back in a similarly raspy whisper. “Haaaaaaaa…who goes there?”
“Hey…hey…heeeeey…it’s okay.” The figure crept closer. “I’m a friend. Don’t worry.”
Benson stood up nervously, his gun trained on the female figure. “Who are you?”
“My name is Layla,” she rasped, now within fifteen feet. “What’s your name?”
“Uh…uh…I’m Jeremy. Jeremy Benson.”
“I’m a friend, Jeremy. You’re so cute. I’m a friend. You’re a candidate, aren’t you?”
The voice was closer, although he couldn’t see her in the blackness. Distant flashes of lightning revealed only fleeting images. He could see that she was very thin, wearing scraps of rags for clothing. Her elbow-length hair shrouded her upper body in a grayish frizz. Her face was gaunt, but her eyes were bright with fascination.
“What do you want?” Benson asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” She paused. “You’re a candidate on Mission Veritas, aren’t you?”
Benson lowered his guard somewhat. “How do you know that?”
“I used to be a candidate,” Layla whispered. “It’s been so long. I can’t remember, it’s been so long. You’re so handsome.” She seemed to be savoring the vision of him. Her fingers were outstretched and wavering, as if caressing him from a distance.
“Really? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I defected. I was a candidate, and I defected. I’ve been here ever since. It’s been so long. I can’t remember how long.”
“You live here?” Benson asked, fascinated. “Did you go crazy?”
He reached for his light stick and turned it to dim.
She smiled, showing brownish teeth. “Crazy? No! It’s wonderful here. I’ve been living here ever since. It’s wonderful here. There are a lot of us. We all live together in a village. It’s wonderful here.”
“There are people living here? How many?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a hundred. I don’t think I’ve ever counted. It’s so wonderful here.”
“How do you live, off the land?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes. It’s wonderful here. So much peace. It’s wonderful here.”
Benson was mesmerized. “Seriously? And you didn’t go crazy?”
“Oh no! Crazy?” She cackled. “It’s wonderful here. Everyone is wonderful, and peaceful. We live like the animals. It’s so wonderful.”
“Really?”
She paused, as if searching her memory. “Do you know Burdie?”
“Burdie?”
“Yes, Burdie. He’s so handsome, just like you. Do you know him?”
Recognition crossed his face. “Do you mean…Commander Burdette? Yes, I know him. He brought us here.”
“Oh, I love Burdie! He’s so handsome, just like you. We were lovers… I think. He’s so handsome.”
“This is totally awesome!” Benson exclaimed. “You were a candidate with Commander Burdette?”
“Yes, I love Burdie,” Layla said wistfully. “We were lovers—I think. Oh, it’s been so long, I forget.” Her attention snapped back to Benson. “You know what I miss? Oh, they were so good. You know what I miss? Those special food bars. They were so good. Like cookies! Do you remember those?”
Benson nodded. “Yeah, yeah, they are good.”
“Do you remember them? I love them!”
“Yes, yes! I have some. I have some here.” He gave her one that he had been eating.
“Oh, I love these—they’re so good.” She devoured it, cramming it into her mouth.
“You don’t have food here?” Benson asked.
Layla nodded, her mouth full. “Oh, there’s wonderful food here. But we don’t have these. I miss them so much. Oh, I miss Burdie, too. I love Burdie.”
“What do you eat?”
“Oh, there’s wonderful food in the trees and in the ground. We’re never hungry.” She chewed in ecstasy. “Do you have more?”
“I have more in my pack, and there’s way more back at the camp.”
“Could you get more? Oh, everyone at the village would be so delighted. We’d have a festival if we could have such a wonderful treat. Can you get more?”
* * *
Sowell coaxed Killian more. “I heard the only way to get out of regular assignments is to have a sponsor. Parents who have some kind of influence call in favors to get their kids into something special.”
“So the rumor has it,” Killian said. That would explain the less-than-qualified candidates surrounding him. Pima, Benson, and even Kerrington leapt to his mind. Mix a little money with potential, along with the flattery of being chosen for an elite unit, and you get a bunch of spoiled rich kids in over their heads. The military had seemed desperate to sign up recruits from the pool of teens showing up for compulsory service. Was Black Saber equally hard up? A sinking feeling settled into his stomach.
“I’m curious, with your parents…deceased, and all.”
Killian took a bite of his food bar and watched the others. It felt like a lump in his throat.
“Everyone else here seems to have some kind of connection,” Sowell said.
“So it seems.”
“Who was pulling strings for you, I mean, if not your parents?”
“I haven’t given it any thought before.” He could only hope that it was someone associated with his rescue, but he didn’t want to reveal any of that, nor did he want to talk about his getting kicked out of basic training.
He was baffled over the idea of a sponsor. He considered suggesting that his selection for Black Saber was because of his special skills, rather than external influence. But then he’d have to explain his special skills.
He played dumb and shrugged. “I don’t know. I can only guess it was someone my parents knew.”
“Who were your parents, then?”
Killian winced inside. He finally gave in to Sowell’s badgering. “My mom was the US ambassador to Thailand.”
Strangely, it felt good to let it out. Having kept a lock on his story for so long, he felt a bit euphoric.
“We were living in Bangkok during this big freedom conference with the Global Alliance and the Carthenogens. Anarchists sympathetic to the Carthenogens wanted to disrupt the m
eetings, and blew up the conference center during opening ceremonies. I don’t know how many people died—a thousand, maybe—but my mom and dad were included.” He looked into the distance. It suddenly occurred to him that those lobbying for autonomy had been wiped out in one incident. “I suspect neither the Global Alliance nor the Carthenogens were even there.”
“Wow, seriously?”
Killian nodded. His head swam at the motion. “I was living in the embassy. Anarchists overran the place and killed every Westerner they could find. A marine on embassy duty managed to hide me before he got killed.” Killian felt a sudden twinge of emotion thinking of Captain Leon.
“Did you have any brothers or sisters with you?”
“Well, I have a brother—or had, I suppose. He was older than me and went into the military for his compulsory service before we moved to Bangkok. Then the whole war thing started, and I never knew what happened to him.” His throat constricted with a sudden welling of emotion. He coughed a bit to force out the tension.
“How’d you get out of there?”
Killian knew he might not be able to resist answering the question truthfully, so he concentrated on limiting how much he disclosed. He took a deep breath. “I wound up in a refugee camp after hiding out for a couple of weeks. A bunch of us formed a gang to fight back against the anarchists. It was pretty crazy for a couple of years.”
He felt relief at managing to keep information about the Global Alliance from spilling out. With so many naive recruits aspiring to get into the Global Alliance, divulging anything about his involvement with them could bring the entire mission to a halt.
Sowell let out a low whistle. “A couple of years? Holy shit, dude!” He paused. “Is that how you got those nasty—um, scars?”
“Yeah,” he said casually. “A lot of street fights with sticks and knives…” It was true, but he’d left out anything about guns, bombs, and ambushes. “I got captured—once. But the anarchists were too crazy and disorganized. They couldn’t keep anyone who wanted to get away.”
