Son of Justice (19 page)

The human had bested him. He had earned his respect, won his subordination. It was beyond his culture, beyond his honor as a Minith, to offer anything less than complete deference to the young private.

The fourth day of the Sift trials began with a surprise for Eli. He and Tenney were neck-and-neck for top ranking, with him leading by only three points. His lead had been more than fifteen points the previous morning, which meant he had lost ground as a result of the military knowledge testing. It was a surprise because he had considered that area of the trials to be one of his primary strengths. He wondered briefly if the last second switch of the tests by Sergeant Brek had anything to do with the results, and made a mental note to speak with Tenney or one of the others about their tests at morning chow. Although he considered himself an expert at military history and weapons, many of the questions he had been required to answer were so obscure, he doubted anyone without access to a data-link could have done better than average. It was interesting, to say the least.

He turned away from the results—which the sergeants always posted while the recruits slept—just as two other recruits stepped forward to review them. He heard one mutter something about Crimsa and detected a hint of disappointment. Crimsa was doing well, just a few points behind Tenney, in third place. Apparently, those in third platoon who knew him weren’t exactly pleased. He made another mental note to ask Tenney or Sims about that as well. His own interactions with Crimsa hadn’t been overly positive, but the guy seemed to know his stuff, which Eli respected.

The short trek to the mess hall took less than five minutes, and he fell into line. He looked across the room as he waited for the morning’s offering to be plopped onto his tray. He noted that Benson, Tenney, and Sims were already seated at the table that had become “theirs.” Ever since being entered into the Sift, the group—with the exception of Crimsa, who preferred his own company—gathered at the same table for each meal. It seemed that the other non-Sift recruits preferred the separation as much as they did, and he noted, not for the first time, that the separation of the company’s eventual officers from the enlisted had already commenced.

“Good morning,” he announced to the table as he took his usual seat across from Ellison and beside Tenney.

“We were just talking about you, EJ,” Benson replied jovially. “Have you seen the postings yet?”

“Of course,” Eli answered. For the past four days, the ranking sheet was the last thing he looked at before leaving the barracks. He turned to Tenney. “Congratulations on your performance yesterday. Impressive.”

She cast him a sideways glance and placed her mug of coffee on the table. “Thanks,” she replied. “I’d have thought you would have aced that test, Jayson. It was the easiest thing we’ve been handed so far. What happened?”

The comment caused him to pause. It validated his previous concerns. He knew they received different versions of the exam, but each version was intended to cover similar content as the others, and they should have been relatively identical in perceived difficulty. Brek had obviously slipped him a more difficult test than the others.

“Just had an off day, I guess.”

“Crud,” Benson challenged, pointing to his bunkmate. “You know this stuff inside and out. There’s no way you couldn’t have passed that test with anything but a perfect score. Tell us. What gives?”

Eli sighed and debated for only a moment before answering. “I’m not sure what types of questions were on your test but mine were a bit . . . obscure.”

“Obscure?” Tenney turned in her chair to face Eli. As usual, he felt his face grow hot in response to her sudden attention. “The questions I had were pretty straightforward. Ninety percent of the recruits in my platoon could have scored a perfect.” Sims and Benson nodded and added brief comments that confirmed they had received similar tests. If there had been any doubt about receiving a different exam than his peers before, it was now gone.

“So . . . no questions on Waterloo, Battle of the Bulge, or the type of cartridge fired by an ancient weapon called an AK-47?”

The other three shared confused looks.

“Sorry, buddy,” Benson replied. “You’re speaking a language I’ve never heard. What’s a waterloo?”

“It’s not a what, but a where,” Eli answered. He realized that all of his previous studying of ancient battles and tactics had probably saved him from complete disaster. “I even had a few questions about some arcane Minith battles that took place over a hundred years ago. I assume you didn’t have any of that stuff, either?”

“Ha,” Benson snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

Eli just shook his head. “It appears as though our Minith leaders don’t want me doing well in the Sift.”

“Why would they care?” Benson asked. “It’s not like you’ll be leading
them
into battle.”

“No, it makes sense,” Tenney interjected. “Think about it. Jayson’s been a thorn in their side from the moment he turned around to help our fellow recruits on that forced march in week three. Nearly dropping Twigg in the ring was another blow to their supposed superiority. Then he beats the tower exercise—not to mention the squad of Minith defending the tower—and two sergeants. Then getting absolved by the inquiry panel. Let’s be honest. You haven’t endeared yourself to our large, green allies, Jayson. Apparently, they’ve decided to conspire against you.”

Eli knew she was right, but didn’t know what, if anything, he could do to prevent it or evade it. Fortunately, the Sift didn’t include many opportunities, like the recent test, to actively alter or influence a score. He’d just have to be vigilant and perform to his potential. All he could do was his best, despite what they sent his way.

He shrugged off the negative emotions threatening to boil over and reminded himself that he was still leading the competition. Even if he didn’t win the Sift, life would go on, and he would be okay in the greater scheme of things. At worst case, he would be reporting to one of his peers and that wasn’t bad. They were all good, competent soldiers, who he’d gladly follow. Except for perhaps Crimsa. He still didn’t know that guy’s story.

“It is what it is. All I can do is my best, the same as you guys,” he said.

“Yeah, but if they fooled with the test, it isn’t exactly fair,” Sims remarked from the other side of Tenney.

Eli smiled. “My dad had a saying for situations like this: ‘Life isn’t fair. Get used to it.’ Seems like good advice right now.”

“You remember your dad?”

Oops. Although he had never said as much, Eli had allowed the others to believe he was an orphan like nearly every human recruit to the Defense Forces. It made keeping his identity a secret that much easier.

“It’s a long story that I’ll tell you about one of these days,” Eli dodged. He turned to Tenney and promptly altered the course of the discussion. “What’s up with your guy, Crimsa? He seems like he has . . . issues.”

The question caused Tenney to choke on the bite in her mouth. Eli thought she might spit the mouthful out, but she forced it down while glaring at him. With the obstruction removed, she asked, “What do you mean ‘my guy’? He’s his own person, and I stay as far from him as possible. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“Sorry,” Eli offered timidly, hands up in surrender. “I only meant that he’s in Third Platoon, and I automatically think of everyone in Third Platoon as being yours.”

Sims leaned forward over the table and glared at Eli over Tenney’s tray. Of course. He was also in Third Platoon.

“Um. No offense, Sims.” Sims just shook his head, offered a thin smile, and sat back in his seat. Eli turned back to Tenney. “The guy is obviously competent, but he doesn’t seem very popular with the platoon. What gives?”

“The guy’s a crud monkey,” Simms offered through a mouth of egg paste. He didn’t elaborate, so Eli looked to Tenney with raised eyebrows. Tenney took a swallow of coffee, and Eli could tell she was pondering her response carefully.

“He’s competent, all right. He knows his stuff and catches on to new things quickly. The problem is that he has no patience with those who don’t catch on just as quickly. He has zero tolerance for anyone who doesn’t meet his personal expectations, and he doesn’t hesitate to let them know in a way that could best be described as rude, aggressive, in-your-face. He could be a great soldier, but Sims is right. The guy’s a crud monkey.”

“Well,” Eli replied. “That would explain the groans coming out of Third Platoon when he self-selected for the Sift.”

* * *

The carrier vehicle hovered three meters above the frozen landscape that made up the northern face of Telgora. Eli peered through the tiny window set into the carrier’s rear door and tried to make out details of what might be waiting below. The PEACE armor’s optic sensors couldn’t pick up anything through the metal door or the thick glass window, so it was a wasted exercise. Unable to see the ground below, he turned his focus to what he
could
see—the five recruits that had been randomly assigned as his team for this stage of the Sift. He scanned the faces of the three men and two women standing behind him. Because they were on the dark side of Telgora, their visors were set to translucent. He knew Crimsa wouldn’t have that opportunity. He and his team were preparing to jump onto the bright, sun-facing side of the planet. Their visors would be set for darkened mirrors to preserve their eyesight against the sun’s glare.

But he’ll be able to see the ground from his carrier.

He pushed the thought away, refusing to waste time contemplating the advantages that came from maneuvering on the south side of the planet versus the north side. The frozen side had its own advantages: solid footing on frozen turf instead of shifting sand was the primary one. Besides, the armor’s optic sensors should even the playing field somewhat where visibility was concerned. At least that was the idea. No one had ever really tested the principle before. In the past, this portion of the Sift had been conducted in the center, livable areas of Telgora, with the two competing teams dropped on opposite sides of the planet. Not so now. The introduction of the new armor had changed things up a bit. It allowed the training cadre to modify the test to include use of the suits and the enhanced capabilities they offered. It made sense, Eli knew. Employing the suits effectively to accomplish a mission was key to their ability to perform as individuals and, ultimately, to lead their teams.

The five-minute warning sounded and pulled Eli’s thoughts back to the five soldiers standing with him. The faces in front of him told a silent story. The fear, uncertainty, and doubt that looked back at him were a problem, and he searched for a way to dispel the negative energy that filled the cabin of the carrier. As he often did, he asked himself what his dad would do in this situation. It usually helped calm his nerves and focus his thoughts, and this instance was no exception. His father was a true leader, and over the course of a lifetime observing the man’s interactions with warriors of all races, Eli had adopted many of his habits and mannerisms. He doubted he could ever match his father’s ability to lead troops, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t emulate the example he had been given, and put what he
had
learned about leadership into action.

Calm the team. Control what you can control. Focus on the mission.

“Okay, team,” Eli began, speaking slowly and with confidence. He made a conscious effort to make eye contact with each of the men and women as he spoke. “This may be part of the Sift, but think of it as just another exercise. We’re going to think before we act and take things one step at a time, exactly like we practiced. When the door opens, follow me to the ground and wait for my signal to move. While you wait, I want you to check all of your system inputs to ensure they’re still working properly. It’s only a short drop to the surface—nothing these suits can’t handle with ease—but we’re going to check systems regularly just to be safe. You should already have an alarm programmed to do so at five minute intervals. Correct?”

He looked to each of them in turn and received nods of confirmation all around.

“Very good,” he continued. “Once we’re on the ground, we’re going to move quickly in single file to the first checkpoint. Keep proper distance between you and the person in front of you. We don’t want unnecessary chatter, but if you encounter any issues, or even suspect that something might not be right, don’t hesitate to speak up. Does anyone have any questions?”

No one had any.

“All right, then. Let’s cut the interior lights and activate nighttime sensors.”

He issued the appropriate commands into his suit and the view of the interior changed. Instead of the “normal” white light, the armored suit provided electronic-enabled visibility that had a reddish tint. Although tinted, the view was amazingly clear, and he marveled again at the engineering that had gone into the suit’s design. Perhaps the disadvantage of being on the dark side of Telgora wouldn’t be such a disadvantage after all.

He watched his team as their views came up and saw that they were equally impressed. He was also pleased to see that the faces that had previously displayed hints of fear and uncertainty were now showing signs of resolve and determination. He made eye contact with each of the five one last time before turning around to face the rear door.

At one minute from drop-time, the door lifted and the interior of the cabin was filled with swirling snow and ice particles. Though he couldn’t feel it, the gauge on his interior visor showed a rapid decline in temperature, and he knew the suit’s bio-system was actively working to counter the sudden change. By the time the “wait” light on his visor changed to “go” and he stepped off the deck of the carrier, the temperature had dropped to well below freezing.

Eli watched calmly as the frozen surface of Telgora reached up to greet him. He bent his knees and allowed the suit to work its magic. As expected, he hit the surface and felt an almost tender sway as the mechanical joints of the agsel-fighting suit absorbed the energy of impact. He’d had harder landings getting out of bed. The small cloud of dustlike snow that billowed around him was the landing’s only real surprise.