“We’ll get in and out quickly,” Sergeant McGrath said, her usual high-pitched voice low in a whisper. “Secure the area, then stand guard. If anyone else comes by, distract them.”
Jensen snorted. Of course they’d keep him outside, again. It wasn’t like anyone else would show up here: Jensen’s Peace-Keeper cohort had already taken care of the terrorists guarding the exterior of one of their safehouses. A place which, according to intel, would finally lead the cohort to the terrorist’s main area of operation, as funds and communications were supposed to come through here regularly. It was an odd place for it – a small rice farmhouse on a mountainside far from most civilization – but Jensen never cared to understand the minds of terrorist scum.
Regardless, once the terrorist’s headquarters were found, Jensen and his cohort would raid the area and put an end to Sun’s insurgency in Nichugo. On that day or night, he would get to show just how useful he was to the Peace Keepers.
That night, sadly, wasn’t now.
“Ma’am,” Jensen grunted.
Sergeant McGrath and three others from Jensen’s cohort snuck into the farmhouse either through the front door or various windows. Jensen huffed, his breath visible in the moonlight. Snow crunched underfoot as he dragged the bodies of the few terrorist guards to a shed in the back. Were this a highly traveled region, Jensen would smooth the snow so their prints and marks wouldn’t raise suspicion. However, the only witnesses to Jensen’s deeds were frozen, flooded paddy fields which went down the mountain in rows.
“Damned sergeant,” Jensen muttered after he took his spot next to the front door of the farmhouse. “I can handle covert missions, too.”
He thought he heard some grunting inside, alongside muffled sounds of fists and feet connecting with flesh, but a strong breeze slapping Jensen in the face drew his attention away. He turned, his ear burning.
“And damned cold,” Jensen grumbled, placing a hand over his ear.
Not for the first, and assuredly not for the last, time Jensen wished he’d also been Gifted with Fire. Sure, his Gift over Land had been quite useful in the two years following his Peace-Keeper training, but Flame Dancers had so many benefits in the corp. For one, with training, they grew more resilient to the cold. For another, headquarters gave them Peace-Keeper uniforms made from thicker material, to keep their core heat better than other Peace Keepers.
For a third, one of Jensen’s idols was a Vulcan, a Wielder Gifted with both Land and Fire. What he wouldn’t give to–
The door behind Jensen slammed open. He pivoted, kneeling into a martial arts form, when his cohort left the building.
“At ease, Private,” Sergeant McGrath said. “And follow close. We need to leave.”
“Everything alright?” Jensen said, looking over their shoulders in case enemies pursued them.
“It will be. Now save your questions for later. We need to meet with the others and discuss this information.”
She hurried by, snapping the protective covering over her arm-screen shut, with the others following. Two of Jensen’s cohorts were elsewhere, working on a different part of this mission. According to the sergeant, they’d needed to handle that quickly as it would be important for taking down Sun. If Sergeant McGrath was willing to pull them from whatever secrecy they’d found themselves in, then it looked like whatever the sergeant had learned in that farmhouse was quite serious.
“Ma’am,” Jensen said, lumbering behind the group.
“Here’s an overview of the situation,” Sergeant McGrath said. She stood over a long table, its face nothing but a thick screen which displayed a map of the province of Nichugo. From near the northernmost tip to a little south of Talam’s center, Nichugo filled most of Talam’s west and northwestern portions with extremely mountainous lands of varied climates. Unfortunately for Jensen, this winter mission had brought them to a central region in its highest – and some of the most mountainous – region, which was a large island just off the coast of mainland Nichugo. She tapped on her arm-screen a few times, then bumped her small screen to the larger one.
The map lit up red in various parts, stemming from a spot near the cohort’s location and stretching and twisting southwest, over a small stretch of ocean and another large island, before it winded southward throughout mainland Nichugo. Two red lines, however, ran right and stopped just before northern Nichugo’s eastern coastline, while one ran diagonally up and to the right, ending at the northeast coast of the region.
“Trade routes?” Nicole, one of Jensen’s cohort members who had the build and demeanor of one who would rather spend an evening reading than training, said.
“Yes, but there’s more to it,” Sergeant McGrath said. She pointed to three dots placed along the red lines, though these points were orange. “Sun’s operations have grown quickly. Far more quickly than HQ had considered possible.”
“Don’t tell me those are other bases of operation,” Micah, another cohort member, said.
Micah fashioned himself as the best fighter in the group. Sure, he’d completed every mission given to him with highest marks and Jensen had never bested him in a duel, despite being half a foot taller and at least fifty pounds in muscle heavier. But that was all circumstantial: Jensen would have done even better at those missions than Micah, were he given the chance, and Jensen had never wanted to injure Micah too much in those duels, so he never went full-out.
“Burgeoning ones,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Which could spell a lot of trouble for us.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Jensen said. “Doesn’t matter if it’s one or four bases, we can take them out.”
“Burgeoning means they’re growing,” Nicole said, rolling her black, folded eyes. “They’re not yet functioning bases of operation.”
“Oh, I knew that!” Jensen lied, his face warming. “It’s just… it’ll be even easier to destroy them if they’re not fully up yet. Yeah, that’s right.”
“Their numbers?” Kimberly, another cohort member and the one who was technically in charge after Sergeant McGrath, as she was a Lance Corporal and two ranks above Jensen.
As loath as Jensen was to admit it, he was also technically on the bottom of their ranking, as he was the only one still a full-fledged Private. But that was only because his cohort never allowed him the missions to truly shine!
“Like the bases, growing,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Currently, it stems from here, but there appear to be plans to move their most important people to a more central location in Nichugo, to make logistics easier.”
“But we finally found the base,” Nicole said, pointing to the red dot near the top of Nichugo.
“So it seems,” Sergeant McGrath said. “At least, that’s what Private First Class Chavez figured, given the shipment origins and financial records she decoded with their key.”
Kara nodded, her warm brown cheeks growing even darker as she turned her eyes away. She was one of the two not with them on the latest outing. Apparently, she’d been working on an encryption key for Sun’s communications. Also apparently, she’d figured it out shortly before they entered the farmhouse.
“They seem like they’re getting ready to move,” Sergeant McGrath said. “It appears it’s an all-hands-on-deck situation for them. The majority of Sun, aside from a few smaller cells in the south, are currently at their base up here.”
“So what’s the problem?” Jensen asked. “We know where they are and they’re all basically there. We go in, defeat them, and destroy Sun. Easy as that.”
“The fact that they’re all there might be an issue, Jen,” Micah said.
Jensen smeared. He hated that nickname. “Oh yeah, Mic? And how is that?”
“Sun is much larger than we expected,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Instead of one hundred people, maximum, it appears there are several thousand terrorists, most of them armed. According to their communications, they even have Wielders with them, though the number seems to be anywhere between four to eight. No matter how powerful our team is, we can’t just drop in and defeat them.”
“That’s a lot of growth in just three months,” Nicole said. “They must have a rich backer.”
Sergeant McGrath nodded. “Likely more than one, given the expenses this operation would cost. It’s a large movement, but it’s being run very efficiently, so there may even be a corporation backing them and helping to plan the logistics. Are we any closer to figuring out the accounts the credits are being transferred from?”
Kara shook her head. “Not yet. It’s encrypted, but the funds bounced through many accounts before it got to them. It seems almost never-ending.”
“I still don’t get why we can’t just beat ‘em up,” Jensen said.
Sergeant McGrath took a long breath. “Look at this.”
The map zoomed in onto the large red dot in the north. It morphed from a singular color to a detailed plan of a city.
“What’s this?” Jensen asked.
“Senakika,” Sergeant McGrath said. “One of the largest cities in the area. From what we’ve gathered, it’s where Sun is keeping its headquarters. From initial readings, it appears that these are areas of interest with possible Sun activity.”
There were hundreds of different buildings on the plan, be they smaller residential or larger commercial ones. With a tap of the screen, most of them went from bright blue to bloody red.
Micah whistled. “This many Sun members are in the city alone.”
“That, or people who are friendly to Sun,” Sergeant McGrath said. “If I were charitable, a number of those spots could be unwilling participants in Sun’s activities, or simply ignorant that they are aiding terrorists. But that would take time and intelligence to discern, and we know HQ would rather us take them down first, then figure that out later. Especially given that their leaders could move at anytime within the next week.”
“Sounds like it’s more important to drop in and stop them,” Jensen said.
“Doesn’t matter how strong we are, Jen,” Micah began, “we seven can’t take out a group that large.”
“Especially if we divert brainpower to figuring out who’s backing them financially,” Nicole said. “Even if we can take out most of the thousand terrorists and four-to-eight Wielders, some are bound to escape. More likely than not, some who can retake the mantle of leadership and bring Sun back to life. It would be much harder for them to do that if we can kill their funding.”
“So what do we need?” Micah asked.
“Time and bodies,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Time we don’t have. If Sun’s leaders move before we can take them out, it’ll prolong our mission several weeks, if not a month.”
“We could always take them on the road,” Micah said.
“Or plot an ambush in one of the more central locations,” Nicole said.
“Which road?” Sergeant McGrath said. “Which city?”
They stared at the map as it expanded again. Almost a dozen lines scrawled down through Nichugo, going to and from the three orange dots.
“Odds are that Sun will split its leadership among the new cities,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Compartmentalize their own factions and make them harder to hit with the numbers we have. To our knowledge, they’re all in Senakika. Even if one or two of the leadership is gone to prepare for the move, we can take most of them out here. Which would be ideal, so Sun could stop terrorizing Nichugo.”
The others nodded and Jensen followed suit. Really, he just wanted to bash some heads. But a stray thought came to him as they bobbed their own: what exactly was Sun doing? Jensen hadn’t heard specifically about any massacres, or bombings, or even threats being made. In fact, the entire month they’d worked the case, he hadn’t heard or seen anything that Sun was doing.
Ah, well. HQ knew what they were doing. They wouldn’t have Jensen’s cohort on the case unless Sun was a threat to national security.
“You mentioned time we don’t have,” Nicole said. “What about the bodies?”
Sergeant McGrath smirked. “An old friend of mine is in Nichugo. He’s currently mentoring a cohort of Trainees in the southern mountains. He’s already agreed to help. They’re already on their way.”
Jensen was the only one to do what he knew the group so desperately wanted: to groan.
“I don’t want to work with Trainees,” Jensen moaned.
Sergeant McGrath’s eyes narrowed, but before she said a word her vision flickered over everyone. They hid it better than Jensen, but she saw the agreement in their eyes.
“First, you all are barely two years out of training yourselves,” Sergeant McGrath said. “You aren’t so high and mighty that you can’t work with a bunch of Trainees, especially when the highest among you is a Lance Corporal.”
The five in Jensen’s cohort lowered their heads slightly, accepting the rebuke. Jensen didn’t falter his gaze.
“Next, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with them,” Sergeant McGrath continued. “They’re about a year into training, but they’ve already accomplished more than half the number of missions the six of you have done in four years.”
Micah opened his mouth, but closed it. It was Nicole who spoke up. “That’s quite the number. They must be an impressive group.”
“You have no idea,” Sergeant McGrath said. “They’re the only cohort my friend has ever been the sergeant over. Word is he hand-picked them himself.”
“And who’s your friend?” Jensen said.
“Oh, just a man by the name of Sergeant David Allen,” Sergeant McGrath said.
The sudden silence was almost jarring. The Sergeant Allen – the Vulcan who had both erupted volcanoes and stemmed their flow, the man who had taken out whole terrorist cells single-handedly, and the very idol Jensen had admired for most of his life, the main reason why Jensen had always wanted to also have a Gift over Fire – was going to join them in a joint operation!
“I thought so,” Sergeant McGrath said with a smirk, admiring the shocked looks on their faces. “You get to work with a legend. Now get some sleep. They’ll be here before dawn and I don’t want your work to suffer because you’re tired. It would make me look bad.”
Jensen often didn’t enjoy following Sergeant McGrath’s orders, yet he’d never failed to do so anyway. He was a Peace Keeper and that was simply the life they led.
This latest command, however, where he needed sleep before Sergeant Allen’s team arrived, was impossible to follow. He couldn’t even rest with the idea of meeting Sergeant Allen looming over him, let alone sleep.
So he threw his thin blanket off of him, quickly dressed in his uniform, and stormed from the small room he shared with the rest of his cohort. A few grumbled and turned as he left, so it looked like he wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.
Jensen walked through the halls of the house they were holing up in. It was small and generally hidden within the forest, almost invisible amongst the snow-covered sugi trees. It had turned out to be a great location, as it was only an hour’s march away from the farmhouse they had raided earlier this evening and a couple hour drive from Senakika. Though, having space for his own room would have been nice.
Jensen open a sliding door to find Sergeant McGrath hunched over a table in the living space, her back turned to him and her face buried in the screen on her left arm.
“I thought I told you to sleep, Jensen,” the sergeant said.
“How’d you know it was me, ma’am?” Jensen asked.
“I heard you from the moment you got up,” Sergeant McGrath said, eyes still on the screen on which she swiped a finger. “If your getting dressed didn’t wake everyone in the house, your footsteps sure as hell did.”
Jensen stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Figured. You’ve always admired Sergeant Allen.”
“I didn’t know you knew him.”
“We were in the same cohort, as Trainees. Though, he didn’t stay long with us after training. They promoted him to Sergeant after only half a year after we took our oaths.”
“One of the fastest promotions in the corp’s history, I know. But he’s stayed that rank for longer than anyone else, too.”
“It’s not because they haven’t offered him promotions. Don’t ask me why he’s always denied them. Don’t ask him, either. He doesn’t like to talk about it. In fact…” Sergeant McGrath, turning around and facing Jensen for the first time this conversation; the white light of her screen casting her face in an ominous shadow, “don’t step out of line, in any way. Peace Keepers have ruined their careers trying to impress the higher-ups they admire. They tend to do something stupid, overstep their reach, and sometimes even disobey orders to stand out.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. I obey orders.”
Even though they were mostly stupid orders which never allowed Jensen a chance to shine as well as Micah or Nicole.
“Until just now, I suppose that’s true,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Four years and never a toe out of line. You took my and my COs’ words at face value and always did as you were told.”
“As I was taught in training, ma’am,” Jensen said.
“I guess that’s also true.” Sergeant McGrath looked away, her blue eyes dim in the shadows. “I’ve always wondered–”
Sounds of an engine whirring and continual snow crunching drew both their attention. A moment later, both silenced.
“Either they’re here a little earlier than expected, or this is the worst ambush I’ve ever been caught in,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Tell the others to get dressed and ready to leave in five, then meet me at the cruiser. We’re heading out immediately.”
Excitement churned in Jensen’s chest. He stood at attention. “Ma’am!”
That excitement had vanished quite quickly. After he’d returned to his cohort – none of whom had been asleep – and delivered the sergeant’s orders, Jensen had waited by the cruiser with anticipation. Finally, after hearing of Sergeant Allen’s exploits for years, he’d get to see the living legend himself!
Except, that hadn’t been the case. Sergeant McGrath had returned to them, ordered them in the vehicle, then explained that they would rendezvous with Sergeant Allen’s cohort at a safehouse on the outskirts of Senakika. They hadn’t even taken the same route, in case insurgents discovered their location and ambushed them.
Now, after two hours of scowling by himself in the rear seat in the cruiser – an armored white vehicle able to fit a dozen men, though cramped, which had brought Jensen’s cohort all across the most northern island of Nichugo – they finally slowed to a stop. Jensen was so focused on his grumbling he barely even noticed when the doors opened and voices called to them as his cohort began to leave.
Wait…
Jensen fumbled from the back, knocking Kara out of the way as he nearly dropped from the cruiser. Hopefully those voices had just been his imagination. It would be mortifying if Sergeant Allen had seen that disgraceful display.
“We weren’t slow,” Sergeant McGrath said, folding her arms and staring at the group exiting another cruiser identical to their own. “I actually pushed it a little faster than was safe, given the noise output on these things. You must have broken protocol and went too fast, especially considering you had the longer route.”
A large mountain of a man laughed. He tilted his head back and sent sounds which Jensen swore made the frost atop the snow shiver, bringing hands large enough to crush boulders with a clench to his bulky, muscled abdomen.
Jensen couldn’t believe it. He was here. The Sergeant Allen was standing in Jensen’s sight.
“No protocol was broken,” Sergeant Allen said, voice low and rumbling like an earthquake, somehow rattling beneath Jensen’s ribs and sternum. “Though, a few laws may have been in some of the denser parts of the woods.”
“That’s what happens when you let Mav drive,” a guy with curly blond hair, who was leaning back against the cruiser, said.
“Like you weren’t the one cheering me on to go faster,” a guy with deep black hair pulled into a bun said.
“Never said I wasn’t. But your turns could even make Koda sick.”
“I’m perfectly, thank you,” the man with brown skin, close-cropped brown hair, and a trim goatee said. “It’s the others I’m worried about.”
Four others stood, not quite at attention like the third guy who spoke, but not nearly so relaxed as the first two speakers. Their faces remained calm, yet three of them were taking very deep breaths.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” a tiny woman with tan skin and luxurious brown hair said. “I could do that all…”
She grimaced, then turned away as she held her stomach.
“See?” the dark-haired guy said. “They’re fine!”
“Luna’s about to throw up,” the brown-skinned guy said.
“But did she die?”
“That’s quite the low hurdle to surmount.”
“No, no,” the blond guy said, waving his hand as if to fan away the brown man’s point. “He’s got a point. Besides, the car doesn’t even have a mark on it.”
The brown-skinned man paused. “Somehow.”
The guys with black and blond hair laughed, and even the four recovering from the drive began to chuckle.
Jensen found his face growing warm and his fingers clenching. This was the group working under the hero Sergeant Allen? This unruly, unprofessional, uninspiring group which acted like children.
Jensen huffed. They weren’t worthy to learn under Sergeant Allen.
“Trainees, line up,” Sergeant Allen said.
Jensen was genuinely surprised when all of them, including the two jokesters, silenced and stood at attention.
Sergeant Allen redirected his attention to Sergeant McGrath. “In any case, we’re here. We’ve read what you sent us and found out some intel of our own, but we still don’t have the full picture.”
“If you’ve found something, we may not have it all either,” Sergeant McGrath said. She then gestured to a spot amongst the trees which looked like a rundown shack. “Let’s get inside and exchange info. Then we can figure out how to keep Sun from fully rising.”
Sergeant Allen smirked. “Lead the way.”
Jensen couldn’t help but be amazed. On the outside: a shabby wooden building in disrepair. On the inside: the same… mostly. It was only when Sergeant McGrath pulled a part of the floorboard away, then slipped her fingers between a split in the foundational concrete, did the reality of this little hut come to light.
The floor rumbled for a moment, then hummed as the concrete separated until it made a hole about ten feet in diameter. Then, a cylinder rose from the depth, stopping with a height a good foot taller than Jensen. Metal hissed as doors slid open.
“Take up the rear,” Sergeant McGrath said, nodding to Jensen. “It’ll be a tight squeeze with all of us in there, so the largest should wait behind.”
Jensen was about to groan, but Sergeant Allen stepped back.
“Looks like I’ll hang back, too,” Sergeant Allen said.
“So will I!” the excitable dark-haired guy said.
Sergeant Allen barked a laugh. “You aren’t big enough to be an issue, what with those skinny little stylus-legs.”
“They’re not small!” the guy said, scratching the back of his head. “If I go with everyone else, they’ll, uh, bump into everyone else’s legs and give them a cramp.”
“The only spaces those twigs can fill are the ones between my teeth. Get with the rest.”
The guy moaned, but joined the others in the rather cramped space. Still, he slipped in well enough, though his chest and back were pressed between two of his cohort. He shot Sergeant Allen a little I told you so look as the doors slid shut.
The nerve of him! Who did that punk think he was, disrespecting the great Sergeant Allen like that?
“He probably could have come with us,” Sergeant Allen said. “And Mia, if I’m being honest. But it’s a good thing to keep them humbled. Especially Maverick.”
Jensen stared at the door for a solid three seconds before it clicked. Sergeant Allen was talking to him! What should he say? Should he say anything at all? Had the silence grown so long that any reply now would be awkward? But if Sergeant Allen expected Jensen to say something, it would be rude to remain silent.
Oh, Guarding Lands. This was Jensen’s first chance – and possibly only – to make a good first impression. What should he do?
A grunt, which could have been either a very loud breath or a laugh, left Jensen’s nostrils. Perfect. He acknowledged the sergeant, while still remaining professional.
A soft, yet deep, chuckle sounded to Jensen’s right.
“At ease, Private,” Sergeant Allen said. “We’re not issuing orders yet.”
“Sir!” Jensen said on reflex, stiffening even further.
The cylinder rose again, its doors opening once it reached its full height.
“After you,” Sergeant Allen said.
“Sir!”
Jensen marched forward, Sergeant Allen strolling in soon afterwards. There was plenty of space in the elevator, yet it was claustrophobic once the doors closed. Jensen almost flinched when his stomach lifted alongside the elevator’s descent.
“Have you ever been to a safehouse?” Sergeant Allen said.
“Sir!”
“You can dispense with the “sir,” Private. Just answering me is fine.”
“Sir! I mean, uh, yes sir.” Jensen worked his lips. This wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d wanted it to. “I mean, I have, yes. Only a couple and they were pretty small. Even for only my cohort.”
The doors opened and Jensen’s jaw slackened. The safehouses he and his cohort inhabited were about as large as a cheap studio apartment, though they were often crammed with as many supplies as could fit in a penthouse. The room Jensen walked into was twice the size of those old safehouses, and even then plenty of doors dotted the walls which led to other rooms.
“Not quite what you’re used to, huh?” Sergeant Allen said, stepping around him.
Maybe Jensen should have figured this one would be different; the other safehouses hadn’t had an elevator.
The others were in the last room along the left wall. On the way, they passed both the combined kitchen and dining room, as well as a small workout room filled with weights, exercise equipment, and spots to hand punching bags.
“Good,” Sergeant McGrath said as they entered a council room. Both cohorts were surrounding a large table, a screen completing its top. “Now to debrief you on everything we know.”
Jensen’s mind wandered as Sergeant McGrath spoke. Sure, Peace Keepers were always meant to be vigilant, especially when a commanding officer was speaking, but he already knew this stuff. That map was the same. The red lines and orange dots were the same. So what was the point in hearing all the same information all over again?
Instead, he watched Sergeant Allen’s cohort. They stood at attention, sure, but how much were they absorbing. That dark-haired guy had eyes only on Sergeant McGrath, but how many of her words were sticking to that little brain of his? How about the curly blond guy? Or the shorter, darker-skinned one who looked bored with the situation?
“That would shed some light on something we found in Huani,” Sergeant Allen said. He tapped his arm-screen, then placed it on the map. Sergeant McGrath’s map of Nichugo vanished, replaced instead with an almost identical map. Only instead of red lines leading to and from orange dots, those orange dots were now blue, with different, much smaller and thinner green lines spreading out from each of them. “It appears they already have routes set up to supply smaller cells across the province with these weapons. Here’s a timetable, which we’ve decrypted to show dates. The earliest is in four days.”
Weapons? When had that been mentioned? Maybe Sergeant McGrath had said information Jensen hadn’t learned yet.
Oh well. It was obvious now that Sun was attempting a mass coup against the Province of Nichugo. Now all they had to do was–
“That lines up with these dates,” Sergeant McGrath said, looking between the information on the table screen and the one on her arm. “Could be a large moving date, if it’s on multiple documents from various Sun divisions.”
“You did say you suspected they would disperse their leadership soon,” Sergeant Allen said.
“And if it’s in four days, either that gives us plenty of time to scope out the area, find their funds supplier, and take them down…”
“Or not enough. Here, another thing we picked up in Huani. Do you think it’ll help?”
A document appeared on the table screen. Sergeant McGrath leaned forward, though she wasn’t the only one.
“Those codes look familiar,” Kara said, then her dark eyes brightened. “Is that the code for a Network Protection algorithm?”
“Could be,” Sergeant Allen said. “We don’t have a clue. We just found it in their files on our raid a few days ago.”
Sergeant McGrath cocked her head to the side. “I contacted you about this only later yesterday.”
“We finished our mission and HQ hadn’t told us our next assignment,” Sergeant Allen said with a smirk. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while and figured the job was larger than anyone realized. And our orders from the previous mission were still in place, technically, so...”
“What about the paperwork?” Sergeant McGrath said.
“Already finished,” Sergeant Allen said. “Our last job brought us in the area of Sun. The thugs we were dealing with had done work with Sun, so it was almost like an extension of our previous mission that just so happened to help with yours.”
Jensen almost sighed in relief as the two sergeants stared at each other. Imagine Sergeant Allen, of all people, going on his own and not waiting for orders. HQ would not have liked that. But he’d been pursuing a mission HQ gave to him. It just so very luckily helped out with their mission.
The little stare-off between the sergeants ended with Sergeant McGrath nodding.
“Understood,” she said. “How very opportune for us. Private First Class Chavez, see if this code will lead us to the funds’ point of origin. Sergeant Allen, is there any among you who could lend their aid?”
“Dakoda, Chalondra, help Private First Class Chavez,” Sergeant Allen said. The bored-looking guy and a woman with deep, dark skin nodded. “She’s in charge. Her words are mine and Sergeant McGrath’s.”
“Sir,” the two said in unison.
Kara left the room, her steps short and quick, and the other two followed – the dark woman with more haste than the bored guy.
“That leaves the rest of us on surveillance,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Survey Senakika. If there are hovels where Sun meets that we don’t know about, report it immediately. Half of us should get the city itself. The other half remain here and go through this safehouse’s records.”
Sergeant Allen nodded. “HQ clearly thought this an important location, if they put this much time and energy into the safehouse here.”
“You think there’ll be some information about Sun here?” Micah asked.
“It’s possible,” Sergeant McGrath said. “About thirty years ago, another terrorist organization founded itself in Senakika. There may be a connection, or there may not. But we should determine every avenue before we commit to taking on over a thousand people. Understood?”
“Ma’am,” all the Peace Keepers except for Sergeant Allen said.
“Good,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Then let’s get to work.”
The day dragged as if wading through mud. Jensen, unfortunately, was not assigned to survey the city, so he couldn’t keep his boots on enemy ground. He also hadn’t been told to go through the safehouse’s logs and learn about Senakika and their past dealings with terrorists. Nor had he been given a directive to aid those decrypting Sun’s accounts to determine the terrorists’ funds-supplier.
No. He’d spent the whole day hiding amongst the trees surrounding the fake shack, watching for anyone who might near it.
So another guard-duty job for a place where no one would visit.
Still, he did his job. Peace Keepers followed orders and there was no one better at it than Jensen.
“Report,” a voice said from behind.
Jensen turned on his heel, lowering into a martial arts’ form and glaring at a woman wearing a thick padded jacket, jeans, and boots. Before Jensen could so much as reach for his Gift, the woman reached forward and flicked Jensen in the forehead.
“At ease, Private,” the woman said. “It’s me.”
Jensen blinked. “Sergeant McGrath?”
The sergeant took a long, even breath, closed her eyes, then glanced about the forest. “So, Private, anything to report. I trust if there is, you’d tell me, as you were ordered to let nothing slip past your notice here.”
“Right, ma’am,” Jensen said. “Nothing to report. No one’s been here. All day.”
Her eyes flickered down to the forest floor, where less snow covered than the region just outside the trees. Without a word, she made her way to the shack.
“Follow me,” she ordered. “Everyone’s ops are just about finished.”
Jensen obeyed, soon finding himself back in the conference room. It took only ten more minutes before it was filled with both cohorts yet again.
“It worked,” Kara said. “The algorithm was exactly what Sun used to throw the location of their financial supplier around the continent.”
“We were able to reverse engineer it,” the dark girl said with a smirk. “Took us a while to figure out how it all worked, but when we did it was easy to apply a tracking algorithm we’ve used on missions before. Led us right to ‘em.”
“Nazuna Bank,” the bored guy said. “Largest bank in Nichugo, and third largest in the entire sunken continent.”
A moment stretched in tense silence. Jensen glanced around, uncertain why everyone’s faces had grown so grim. Well, everyone except for the dark-haired guy.
“Why’s that worse than some other group funding them?” the dark-haired guy said.
If only Jensen could judge him, but he himself had the same thought.
“This isn’t just some rich donor,” the bored guy said. “Or even an affluent business. This organization is in control of a huge portion of Nichugo’s, and even all of Talam’s, wealth. With a supplier of this size, Sun will never lack funds.”
“Not to mention how much more difficult it’ll be to freeze assets,” Sergeant McGrath said. “The investigation into a bank will require a lot more work than a business or a single donor. The money could, essentially, come from anywhere.”
“Is it only a small group from the bank?” the bored guy said. “If so, then how high up in the bank are they? Does it go all the way to the top? Or is all the leadership involved?”
“Questions we do not have time to answer now,” Sergeant Allen said. “Going back to freezing those assets, that means everyone who uses Nazuna Bank will be unable to access their accounts until the investigation is over.”
The dark-haired guy’s eyes flitted around the room, then his mouth dropped. “Alright, I can see the problem.”
“Yeah,” Jensen put in, nodding with the dark-haired guy.
He had to chime in to let them believe he knew the difference now. In actuality, he still didn’t see how this was so much worse than the other funds-supplier options.
“It’ll still have to be done, won’t it?” Nicole said.
Sergeant McGrath nodded. “It’ll have to be. But the timing needs to be perfect. We need to be able to make sure we can take down most of Sun’s leadership, arsenal, and major base of operations before HQ will go along with shutting down an entire bank for an extended period of time.”
“And that shut down would have to be perfectly timed with whatever assault we plan, so we don’t tip them off that we’re on to them if we do it too early, or so that they can funnel some extra funds away if we do it too late,” Sergeant Allen said. “So, before I force HQ to fast-track this op, can we do everything the sergeant said?”
“Sun has a huge presence in the city,” Nicole said. “After talking to some prominent members of the city, it’s abundant that most of the elite and wealthy are either with Sun or fine with what they’re doing.”
“Lots of bribes, according to you, right?” Micah said, nodding to Nicole.
“It adds up,” a member of Sergeant Allen’s cohort said. He was heavily tanned, tall, and buff – though not as bulky as Jensen – with long, curly brown hair and a dense, yet thin, beard. “From the records, it seems the children of Senakika’s previous terrorist group, Moon, were let off without any charges applied to them. Seems they became important members of Senakika and, in some cases, Nichugoan society.”
“It’s a rare time for the Republic to take action against children,” Nicole said. “Even if their parents did heinous crimes against the State.”
“Those ‘children’ were in their twenties and thirties,” the buff, tanned man said. “And it’s entirely possible they’re the new ringleaders of Sun. Look at this.”
A document appeared on the table before them, listing nine names and displaying faces alongside them.
“Seven of them are still in Senakika, four business owners, three politicians,” the tanned man said. “It also seems all of them are on the local public school board, making the majority.”
“I talked with three of them today,” Nicole said. “They all gave me reason to suspect they were Sun.”
“What of the other two?” Sergeant Allen said.
“One’s in Huama, the other in Seonbok,” Micah said.
Another little silence. Those were two of the three cities dotted orange on the map, where Sun had plans to increase their operations.”
“Two of those businesses seem to plan to move their headquarters to those cities,” the blond-haired guy said. “According to news reports, at least. A third business is moving to, you guessed it, Aido.”
Jensen hadn’t guessed it, but he wasn’t surprised as it was the third city in orange on the map. Even he didn’t need explaining what was going on.
“Have you confirmed when they’re moving?” Sergeant Allen asked.
“Not sure about one of them,” the blond guy said. “But one begins next week. Another in three days.”
“Ups the timetable a little,” Micah said.
“Only by a day, max,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Have we determined their firepower?”
“Trucks bearing large shipping containers and freight trains have increased over the last two weeks,” the bored guy said. “Every route follows the ones Sun has been using. It’s safe to say they’re moving people and supplies already.”
“But there are three warehouses full of weapons and people,” Ken, a lean yet strong member of Jensen’s cohort. He was always quick on his feet and able to slip into places Jensen could never hope to dream, so it was no wonder he’d been sent on snooping out warehouses. “Hundreds of munitions, it seems. If they’re put in members’ hands across the province, Nichugo could look as bad as east Mesr in a month.”
“What number of Wielders are in Sun?” Sergeant Allen said.
“Most of the reports I heard seem hyperbolic,” a small woman from Sergeant Allen’s cohort said. “But I can confirm at least five. I would be surprised if there are no more than eight in the city, though.”
The sergeants shared a look.
“Seems possible,” Sergeant Allen said.
“Timing would be tight,” Sergeant McGrath said. “And everything would need to work perfectly.”
“We have two good cohorts. To my knowledge, the next three closest cohorts are busy with their own missions. If we call a third, they may not make it before the best time for us to strike arrives.”
“We’ve both young cohorts. An operation this big would make it really unlikely everyone comes out of this alive.”
“That’s the risk we all chose to take, Sergeant.”
Sergeant McGrath nodded. “That’s true. We’ll report it to HQ. Everyone else, relax while you can. If they approve, we can move as quickly as tonight.”
“Ma’am,” the room chorused.
Afternoon morphed into evening, which slowly shuffled into night. All without word from HQ.
The two cohorts had spent the time talking both strategy and about past missions. At least, most of them had. By chance, Jensen had been put in charge of dinner, so he’d spent the better part of that time figuring what to make with the supplies available, which, oddly enough for a safehouse, was substantial with ingredients from all over Talam. The result: a Neirean beef stew just the way Jensen liked it, which meant there was more beef than actual stew in the meal.
Dinner had been frustrating. The food was fine, of course, but Sergeant Allen’s cohort was nothing like Jensen’s. Instead of peacefully and quietly enjoying the food, they talked and joked the entire meal! They’d even dragged Jensen’s cohort down to their level, getting them to join in the silliness.
So Jensen cleaned up his plate as quickly as he could, then went to the weight room to get his mind off of the disappointments surrounding Sergeant Allen on a daily basis.
It was unfortunate that, not even ten minutes into his workout, three from Sergeant Allen’s cohort walked into the room. Jensen grunted in place of a groan as he raised the weight upward, glaring at the ceiling as he lay against the bench. It just had to be the bored guy, the curly-haired blond guy, and the dark-haired guy.
“Oh, they do have enough!” the dark-haired guy said. “Come on, let’s lift!”
“There’s only two, dude,” the blond guy said. “And one’s taken.”
“Oh, it is. Then he can join us!”
“The three of us can’t lift from two bench presses.”
“Then I’ll do it on the floor!”
“You know that’s bad for you,” the bored guy said.
“No, no, let him,” the blond guy said, nudging the bored guy with an elbow. “Just don’t tell him how many bars those presses have.”
“I can take one from the squat rack!” the dark-haired guy said.
“Why don’t we just have a squat competition?” the blond guy said.
The dark-haired guy waved it away. “Who cares about squats?”
“Maybe you should. I could fit my hand around your legs and have my fingers touch, Mav.”
“They’re not that small!”
“So you finally admit they’re at least a little bit small.”
The dark-haired guy huffed. “They’re not small at all. Squats… are just too easy for me. Yeah. I don’t want to win by so much and make you feel bad about yourself.”
“Uh-huh,” the blond said. “Sure thing, Mav.”
Jensen finished his last rep with a grunt, replacing the weight back onto the rack and sitting up. The three were halfway through the training room, between the weight area and the fighting practice area. The blond guy and the dark-haired guy – Mav, so it seemed – were wearing short workout shorts only, displaying their bare upper torsos. The blond guy was far leaner, though there didn’t appear to be an ounce of fat on his body, which helped display his abs. Mav was more buff by a country mile, especially with his pecs, shoulders, and upper arms, though he still couldn’t compare to Jensen’s massive musculature.
Jensen couldn’t help but smirk. Not only had he beaten those two in form, but also practicality. They could be called away to their mission at any moment. They would waste precious time having to put their uniforms back on before departing, which could compromise the mission’s timing. Also, the enemy could have found their location and attack. They’d have far less protection than Jensen, who was still wearing his uniform.
Sadly, that same judgment couldn’t be thrown at the bored-looking guy, as he still dawned his black-and-white Peace Keeper uniform.
“Oh look, he’s done!” Mav exclaimed. “We can lift now!”
“And if he’s not done with his sets?” the bored guy said.
“Then we squat,” the blond said, then patted Mav on the shoulder. “Right? I don’t mind losing to such a strong opponent. And I promise, on my honor, I won’t feel bad or demoralized if I lose to you in squats.”
“Uh, I’ll just ask him,” Mav said. He rushed over to Jensen, wearing a grin as he stopped. “Hey, are you done with your set yet?”
Jensen huffed. He really didn’t want to have to talk to this man-child, yet a Peace Keeper always kept his decorum, especially around people he had no desire to be near.
“No, not yet,” Jensen said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” the blond said with sarcasm so heavy even Jensen could pick it up without a second thought. “Looks like we’ll hit the squat racks.”
“But you’ll be done soon, right?” Mav asked Jensen.
“No,” Jensen said.
Mav groaned, then quickly covered it up as he walked back to the other two. The blond laughed and the two began another verbal back-and-forth. At least the bored looking guy had the decency to… wait. His lips were the most slightly raised in the corner. Was he smirking?
Damn unprofessional little….
Were Jensen in their cohort, he’d whip them into shape so quickly it would give them whiplash. Too bad that was impossible for at least another year.
Jensen sat up a little straighter. But, what would happen once that year ended and Sergeant Allen was no longer guiding Trainees, but leading Privates?
A sharp sound blared from above. Jensen vaulted to his feet into a crouched position, but the noise was quickly replaced with Sergeant McGrath’s voice.
“HQ contacted us,” she said. “Mission’s a go. You’ll be receiving your group, then individual assignments shortly. Read them, then get some rest. The assault begins at noon tomorrow.”
As soon as her voice cut off, Jensen’s arm-screen lit up. He devoured the information on the screen, eyes flying left to right and back again until he’d finished going over the orders faster than he’d ever read anything before in his life. And finally, after so long, he could get in on the action: he was to raid one of Sun’s warehouses with several others and end their operations.
Now, he could prove himself to be the perfect Peace Keeper. And all while Sergeant Allen was around to witness it!
A buzzing in Jensen’s ear stilled the following silence from the idea which was whirring in Jensen’s mind. If he completed his mission perfectly, then who was to say Sergeant Allen wouldn’t remember him a year down the road, then allow for Jensen’s transfer into his cohort?
Jensen smirked. Noon tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Jensen sipped some tea from a shop near the warehouse he would soon be tearing to the ground – possibly literally. A chill breeze blew across the street, but Jensen hardly felt it with how thick of clothing he was wearing. Winter time always made hiding the Peace-Keeper uniform easy and natural, given how none of them would look out of place wearing large cloaks or dense clothing.
Supposed that was one plus to winter, even if Jensen hated espionage and stealth missions almost as much as the cold.
About another minute. Jensen placed his warm mug on the table, glaring toward the warehouse and ignoring the Nichugoan passersby before him. Then I’ll show them what I’m made of.
The middle of the day with the sun high in the sky seemed a strange time to sneak around private locations, yet Jensen trusted HQ. From what Sergeant McGrath had said this morning, HQ had poured over what was left of Senakika’s city footage from the last several weeks and determined this to be the best time to strike, as it appeared their security was at its most lax at this time.
Not that it mattered to Jensen. Let Sun send their entire force on him. Today, he wouldn’t let anything stop him.
There was a faint beep in Jensen’s earpiece. A moment later an explosion lit the side of the warehouse, the blast which slammed into Jensen’s ears close behind. People on the street either stood stunned or shirked away with a screech. Jensen took off toward the building.
Mav had started the assault on this particular warehouse, as he was evidently a powerful Flame Dancer with some versatility: he could reach extreme temperatures with his flames and even cause large explosions. Many a Flame Dancer could only do one or the other. He was also apparently quite adept at keeping on his feet. The other two working this warehouse were Chalondra, that dark-skinned young woman from Sergeant Allen’s cohort, and Nicole, both Wind Weavers who had a knack for keeping in the air for long periods of time. Jensen had seen Nicole in person fly for far longer than he could hold his own breath, but Chalondra could remain in the air longer, according to reports.
All were important for working with Jensen, as he had a habit of knocking people on their asses with his Gift, including allies.
More explosions sounded as Jensen neared the warehouse, which now sported a large new opening in the wall. The winds picked up from within the building. So all was going to plan for the moment, as Jensen would be the last to run into their destination.
And when he did, all hell would break loose.
The interior of the warehouse was awash in winds and flames. Mav was sending firestreams in opposite directions. Chalondra flew beneath one of the streams, then the fire expanded and spread to the far wall on the left, engulfing several terrorists. Chalondra cracked a joke, then flew upward toward the high ceiling. It was maybe twenty or thirty feet tall and halfway up, there was a metallic walkway along the wall. Jensen had no idea what the purpose of that was, but it appeared right now it gave many terrorists a spot to take position and aim firearms down at Jensen’s fellow Peace Keepers.
Time to work.
Jensen’s core tightened and his skin tingled. His senses seemed to expand from the confines of his skin to the ground within and surrounding the warehouse. And as easy as it was to wave a hand, he made that land shake.
Terrorists yelled and some fell down from the upper walkway. Even Mav made a sound before planting his feet apart and waving his arms about to keep balance. Gunshots rang off, the bullets ricocheting off walls and large containers in the room. Looked like Jensen had appeared just in time to stop the storm of bullets from filling him with holes.
“Nice timing!” Mav yelled over the dull of shaking ground. “I didn’t want to have to dodge those!”
“Like you could have, anyway,” Chalondra said, whipping around Mav. “Just try to stay on your feet!”
She twisted her hand as she did a quick revolution around him. A small gust knocked him off balance yet again, though he managed not to fall.
“Hah!” Mav said. “You gotta try harder than that to knock me on my ass!”
Chalondra stuck her tongue out at him as she twirled away in the air. It was so bizarre. Not the flippant attitude they had during the mission – unfortunately, Jensen expected that from them – but how Chalondra weaved through the air. She was like a leaf twisting through various currents, flipping about in the air and somehow always finding a draft to keep her in the air. And wherever she passed, terrorists flew off their feet, more often than not slamming their heads into walls or even the ceiling. All, however, found themselves falling the fair distance back to the ground, their bodies only moving because of Jensen’s shaking land.
“Can the talking,” Jensen roared to cover up for how impressed she was making him. “Get rid of the rest.”
To his surprise, they both yelled, “Sir!”
Then another shock held Jensen nearly still. Mav took a deep breath, opened his eyes, then charged toward the left wall, bounding slightly to the left and right as he went. It was like he’d found Jensen’s rhythm and made intentional steps to make the ground seem as even as possible, so barely a footstep was hindered.
The temptation to increase the tempo was strong, but Jensen held himself back. True Peace Keepers worked with one another on missions. They didn’t deliberately sabotage a comrade simply because they didn’t like them.
As Mav went left and Chalondra handled the terrorists up top, Jensen went right. The terrorists were easy to knock out, as the very few on their feet were either supporting themselves on walls or containers, or they were flailing about with their arms waving like a madman’s.
Within several minutes, everyone who came to fight Jensen was lying on the ground, groaning. He opened a door and found a hallway with more terrorists trying to keep on their feet. As he charged in, a large bang sounded from behind.
“Really-Fast Flying Kick!” someone roared.
Mav zoomed overhead, then planted an extended foot into the chest of one of the few terrorists on his feet. The momentum shifted into the terrorist, sending him down the hallway, as Mav dropped to the floor, rolled, then unsteadily got to his feet.
“What are you doing here?” Jensen asked.
“No one else is over there,” Mav said, his hands bursting into flames. “And Chalondra’s almost done. Thought I’d help.”
Jensen opened his mouth to respond, when a comm sounded in his ear.
“Activity several streets north from your group’s position,” the bored-guy’s voice said. “Looks like a small cell has started attacking a civilian center in response to the attack.”
“On it.” Mav threw two fireballs, then turned and started running.
Now Jensen increased his tempo, shaking the land much harder for a moment. Mav lost his footing and fell into Jensen’s arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jensen asked.
“To help those people,” Mav said, pushing off Jensen and refinding his footing.
“Those aren’t our orders.”
“We’re to take out the terrorists.”
“At this sight.”
They received a notification on their screens. Mav glanced down at his.
“It’s close enough to count,” Mav said, taking off again.
“That’s not how this–!” Jensen began.
Mav hopped into the air, tossed another fireball over Jensen’s shoulder, then landed with better grace than before. “You guys got this! I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Stop!” Jensen roared. “That’s an order!”
But Mav was gone. Growling, Jensen resisted temptation again, this time to go after him. A good Peace Keeper stays on mission, no matter what.
A few people were on fire, so Jensen mostly ignored them. Fueled by his rage, he dealt with everyone else with swift blows to the head or throat. There were a few doors on either side of the hallway and one at the far end, the latter he inched toward while he opened up all the others. All were empty except for dozens of boxes filled with munitions. As Jensen finally opened the door at the end of the hallway, a boulder blocked everything else from sight.
Jensen leaped back and hid his head behind his arms. The small boulder plummeted into him, though thank the Steadfast Lands his Peace-Keeper uniform took the brunt of the impact. He sailed back until he flew into the large room again, then hit the ground with a thud.
“What’s up?” Chalondra said, weaving about as another terrorist body hit the floor.
“Land Shaker,” Jensen said, voice gruff, as he rose. Despite his uniform’s protections, Jensen’s skin and bones ached where the boulder had struck him. “Coming in–”
Another boulder soared into the room, though atop it was a kneeling man. To Jensen’s eye, he appeared an average Nichugoan: sleek black hair, dark folded eyes, slim build, and a fair complexion. Though with the power behind that first boulder, and the control he exerted over the second to keep it in the air, he could be anything but an average Land Shaker.
Jensen squared his chest. Well, neither was he.
Too bad his Gift couldn’t reach the terrorist when he was ten feet in the air.
Chalondra dove toward the terrorist, a gale of winds behind her. The terrorist delved his hand into the floating boulder like it was water, then wrenched half of the rock away from the whole. With that torn piece – which was about the size of Jensen – he created a shield between himself and Chalondra. The Trainee slammed into the rock, her limbs flying forward and the winds vanishing. The terrorist raised the piece with Chalondra lying atop it skyward, glaring at the ground, like he was looking for a place to spike the boulder.
Jensen charged forward. The terrorist did as Jensen thought and hurled the large rock down, with Chalondra between it and the ground. Jensen leaped forward, caught Chalondra by the ankle, and pulled. He yanked her away just before her back hit the ground. A moment later, the large rock smashed into the floor and the two of them rolled away.
Chalondra’s face was contorted, like she still couldn’t breathe after colliding into the rock, but she gave a Peace-Keeper handsign to signify thanks, then another to show she was alright. Jensen didn’t respond: the terrorist lifted the large rock with his Gift and looked directly at him, his next target.
Jensen threw Chalondra over his shoulder and he ran behind a large metallic container. The rock hit the ground where he’d been a second ago, then flew back into the air. Looked like the terrorist was smart enough to keep that rock away from Jensen.
“Distract him when you get your breath back,” Jensen said, placing Chalondra down. “I need to get a hand on his stones.”
For some reason, she cracked a grin and her chest moved as if she tried to chuckle, but she gave him a thumbs-up. Jensen pulled himself onto the metallic container, then another one atop that, and stared at the terrorist.
“Come on,” Jensen said. “You going to throw more shit at me?”
The terrorist smirked, then raised his hands into the air, palms upward. Chunks of the floor ascended around him, so now there were six large floating boulders alongside the two smaller ones.
Oh, right. The ground wasn’t shaking anymore. If Jensen was away from the ground for a few seconds, he’d lose his control over it. Looked like that left the terrorist with more ammunition.
“Come on already!” Jensen roared.
The terrorist obliged, hurling another boulder. Jensen leaped onto the floor, his core churning as he reached the floor. The building began shaking, far more violently than a minute before, taking back control of the land beneath their feet.
The first boulder thankfully missed, but a second one descended directly onto Jensen. Prepared this time, Jensen threw his arms up and caught the boulder. He grimaced as a shockwave tremored down his arms and into his shoulders, his bones threatening to snap, but the moment his palms touched the stone he forced his will into it. He took control away from the terrorist and used the same power on the boulder which he used on the surrounding ground. It became light as a feather in a heartbeat as it trembled in his grip.
Before he could do anything, however, two more boulders flanked him, drawing into each other as if to make a sandwich from Jensen’s body. With a roar, Jensen swung in a circle, dragging his new boulder with him. It smashed into one nearing stone, smacking it away and causing both to shatter, but the second one slammed into his arm.
A loud crunch sounded and Jensen flew to the side. Before he hit the ground, however, he exerted his will into the boulder, so Jensen kept it from crushing him even as it landed atop him. Without a thought, however, Jensen sprung on his feet and turned. Another boulder was careening toward him. He raised his new stone as a shield and stopped the assailing one in its tracks.
Jensen’s body was shaking. What felt like a hand gripped his heart and lungs as he panted. The boulder in his hands splintered, then broke apart. It didn’t completely shatter like the first, though the rock in his hands was no bigger than a soccer ball.
Meanwhile, the terrorist loomed overhead, two more boulders suspended around him. He said something in Nichugoan. Too bad Jensen didn’t speak the language.
As the terrorist raised his arms, Chalondra appeared from behind. She soared into his back and her winds propelled the two of them to Jensen. With a sneer, Jensen swung his stone forward just as Chalondra shoved the terrorist within reach.
The stone crunched into the terrorist’s skull. His face stopped moving, but momentum swung his legs forward until he did a backflip and splattered onto the floor. Blood, bone, and bits of grey matter marked the spot of the terrorist’s end.
“Thanks,” Jensen said.
“Glad you could… grab his stones,” Chalondra breathed with a smirk.
“Nice work,” Nicole said, flying to them from another room.
“Get what we needed?” Jensen asked.
She displayed her arm’s screen, which had numbers and figures Jensen likely wouldn’t understand on it. “Everything. Where’s Mav.”
“Abandoned his post,” Jensen said.
Nicole’s eyes narrowed, then she looked at Chalondra.
“Went outside,” Chalondra said. “Something about terrorists out there… or something.”
“Then we head out, too,” Nicole said. “And then, Jensen, bring this place down. Nothing else needs to remain.”
“Ma’am,” Jensen said.
Jensen continued taking deep breaths until his head stopped spinning.
This always happened whenever he used his power a lot. It was frustrating. Not only did his skin feel weak and his bones become brittle due to his Gift, excessive use of his Gift also made him dizzy.
At least he’d gotten the job done. The building had been sturdy, almost like it was built to withstand quakes, but it only took a minute or two of exhausting work to bring it down. For the next five minutes he sat, taking deep breaths, waiting for further orders.
It was only a minute or so after he’d found his balance and tested his arm to find it was likely fractured when the main Sun complex – a large building atop Senakika’s tallest hill – exploded.
Jensen found himself smirking. He’d seen a volcanic eruption in Pialagas before. That didn’t hold a candle to the blast he was witnessing now.
“That’s Sergeant Allen for you,” Chalondra said with a smile. “You’d think he was compensating for something.”
Jensen made to tell her off, but Sergeant McGrath’s voice rang in his ear.
“Mission accomplished,” she said. “Meet at the safehouse.”
“And Mav never showed back up,” Nicole breathed.
“Coward,” Jensen huffed.
Chalondra checked her arm-screen, then chuckled. “Just wait and see. We’ll run into him soon, I’m sure.”
They found evidence of him before actually catching sight of the guy. For several streets, blast residue and burnt buildings – or currently burning buildings being fought by firefighters – greeted them. Not to mention many an unconscious or killed person lying on the side of the street with armed people acting as guards over them. No matter how many Jensen saw, he braced himself in anticipation for them to fire upon him, but they only gave Nicole a nod, which she returned. So they kept walking, until finally they reached yet another burning building.
The only difference to this one was the turned-over truck collided into the house and a family of five huddled on the other side of the street. The youngest, a girl around six years old, was crying.
“Should we–?” Cholandra began.
When a fireball blew a window on the second floor of the burning house and a figure leaped from it into a nearby tree. After a few moments, grunts, and fallen leaves, the figure dropped to the ground. Strange. The guy was wearing a black-and-white Peace-Keeper uniform. But Jensen had never seen a Peace Keeper with so long and shaggy of black hair before.
“Mav,” Chalondra said, “you son-of-a-bitch. Saving kittens from fires you started again?”
Mav – his bun missing and his hair in his face – hurried to the huddled family, his arms folded, and he knelt to the crying girl. Little mews sounded as not one, but two kittens emerged from between his arms and chest. The little girl cried something in Nichugoan and grabbed the kittens. The family huddled around her, though the mother and father were soon conversing to Mav in Nichugoan. He appeared to speak a little slowly to them, but in a few minutes he was waving to them, petting the kittens, and patting the little girl on the head before he joined Jensen and the others.
“I’ll have you know,” Mav began, “I did start this fire.”
“What about the other dozen we saw on our way here?” Chalondra said.
“Only the ones that deserved it.” Mav then turned around and gave a small salute to another group of men standing over a pile of unconscious or no-longer-living men. “But wait until we get back. I want to share what happened with everyone!”
“Private Padalecki,” Sergeant Allen’s voice called from the other room.
Jensen took a breath, then entered the briefing room. The operation had ended hours ago and while the debriefing had taken place once everyone had returned to the safehouse – which, oddly enough, Jensen’s group hadn’t come back last – the sergeants wanted to call every one of Jensen’s cohort to a private meeting with the sergeants so they could report how Sergeant Allen’s Trainees had done during the mission.
It was both a blessing and a curse that Jensen was chosen last. A blessing, given it gave him ample time to find the right words for his report. A curse, since he oh so badly wanted to chew Mav out to the sergeants.
The door hissed shut behind Jensen. The two sergeants sat on the opposite end of the long table, both looking expectant.
“Report, Private,” Sergeant McGrath said, “on Trainee Williams’ performance.”
“She got the job done alright,” Jensen said. “I don’t know when Nicole left to retrieve the data, but by the time I got into the building Chalondra was flying around, taking care of many terrorists and stopping them from shooting at us from above.”
“So why was she only ‘alright’?” Sergeant Allen said.
“She got taken out of the fight too easily against the terrorist Land Shaker,” Jensen said. “She underestimated him and lost her breath for nearly a minute. I had to save her life and bring her to safety before engaging with the enemy again, which made me distracted. But she did get her breath back faster than I would have thought. She redeemed herself when she attacked the terrorist from behind. I might have died, or at least been seriously hurt, if she hadn’t returned to the fight.”
“Anything else?” Sergeant McGrath said.
“Her attitude isn’t professional,” Jensen said. “She was joking and smiling the entire time. You wouldn’t even think we were in the middle of an important mission if you heard her speak.”
“Sounds about right,” Sergeant Allen mumbled.
“If you had to give her a grade?” Sergeant McGrath said.
Jensen thinned his lips. He really didn’t want to, but he couldn’t lie. Peace Keepers never lied. “Acceptable.”
It was the lowest passing grade, but he couldn’t fail someone who might have saved his life.
“Thank you for that,” Sergeant McGrath said, jotting something down on her arm-screen. “Now, for Trainee Ito.”
“Total Failure,” Jensen said without hesitation.
Sergeant Allen leaned forward. “Your reasoning for such a grade?”
“His explosion to get us into the warehouse was good,” Jensen said. “His footwork to keep balance during my quake was impressive. His fighting style is both professional and a little strange. He also needs to take battle more seriously, though I am not sure if Chalondra brought him down to her level, or if it was the other way around.”
“Finish answering the sergeant’s question,” Sergeant McGrath said.
“Ma’am. He abandoned his post. The bor… Dakoda told us of activity happening nearby. He went out to handle it.”
“Let me see if I understand this,” Sergeant Allen said, voice low and slow. “Trainee Ito learned of terrorist activity nearby your area, went to resolve it, and in fact succeeded, given the aftermath and the story he was so proud to tell.”
Jensen sneered. Mav had said it during the debriefing. He was like a child who’d just found a really cool rock and couldn’t wait to tell everyone about it. Sure, his story was full of heroics, with saving civilians and chasing down vehicles, but none of that changed the fact that all that had happened away from his post.
What was worse, Mav’s cohort and even Jensen’s cohort were praising him for it!
“But even after all that, you still give him a Total Failure grade?” Sergeant Allen concluded.
“Yes, sir,” Jensen said. “Like I said, he abandoned his post.”
“You were meant to take down terrorist activity,” Sergeant McGrath said.
“Our orders were to take down that facility, ma’am,” Jensen said. “Nothing else.”
The sergeants paused, then shared a look. Sergeant McGrath’s lips thinned while Sergeant Allen gave a little nod.
“Thank you for your report,” Sergeant Allen said. “We will keep it under advisement.”
“If I may ask one more thing, sir,” Jensen said.
“What is it?”
“I would like to punish Trainee Ito.”
“Oh, would you now?”
“Yes, sir. What he did was basically sedi… treason, sir. He needs to be punished as the law would say.”
“Do you know what the punishment for sedition is, Private Padalecki?”
“Um…”
“It’s death, Private. Depending on the severity of the sedition, it can be brutal torture, and then death. Are you claiming you wish to execute my Trainee?”
“No, sir. I, uh, want to give him a lighter punishment. Still hard, but not as bad as that. To make sure he doesn’t make that mistake again, so if he has the chance to abandon his post in the future, he’ll remember the punishment and not do it again. That will save him from being executed, sir, and also give me the chance to show him what a real Peace Keeper looks like.”
One of Sergeant Allen’s thick eyebrows raised. “A real Peace Keeper?”
“Yes, sir. Since I met him, he has not acted in the way of a Peace Keeper. He has made jokes, not acted his age or his station, abandoned his post, and even distracted himself with silly things like saving kittens instead of following orders.”
Jensen took a deep breath. He could feel the heat flowing through his veins now and he couldn’t stop it. “Actually, much of your cohort doesn’t act their station. They joke like they’re a group of friends at University, not warriors training to keep the peace across this great nation. I would, with your permission, sir, like to show them the proper ways of a Peace Keeper.”
Sergeant Allen hummed. “And how would you do that? Do you think you can imprint upon them proper Peace-Keeper etiquette in the few more days that we will be together with you?”
“Actually sir, about that,” Jensen began. “I know it’s a year too early, but I would like you to keep this request in mind. You too, Sergeant McGrath. Next year, when your cohort passes the final trials, or at least when some of them do, I would like to transfer to your cohort. Then I could show them how to act, always.”
Sergeant Allen looked at Sergeant McGrath. “Has he ever brought this up with you?”
“This is news to me,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Though, technically he hasn’t broken protocol, as I’m in the room and there’s a whole year between the request and when he’d need to sign the paperwork.”
Sergeant Allen sighed, turning back to Jensen. “I will keep this brief, Private Padalecki. Until you understand the importance of reading beyond the orders, which would allow you to recognize that not only should a facility be brought down, but those who flee from it and cause terror across the city, too. Until you recognize the importance of bringing people at ease to keep peace and not see saving a young child’s pet as pointless. Until you learn the implications your words have on your superiors’ teaching methods.
“Until all of that and a fixing of your haughty attitude, you will never be welcomed into my cohort.”
Then Sergeant Allen nodded, face at ease as if he hadn’t crushed Jensen more than that terrorist’s boulders ever could. “Now be dismissed, Private. Sergeant McGrath and I have much to discuss.”
“I sometimes feel we fail you, Private,” Sergeant McGrath said.
Jensen didn’t even jump this time. He was hunkered down outside the shack, sitting in the snow. They’d feasted to a job well-done an hour after Jensen’s meeting with the sergeants. Though the food had tasted like nothing in his mouth. And every moment was sickening, watching his peers and the Trainees talking, joking, and laughing as if they’d just won a match of Dominion. He cleaned up his plate afterwards, as that was what Peace Keepers did, then tried to literally cool off.
He hadn’t expected Sergeant McGrath, or any of them, to come after him. Why would they? They’d never sought him out before.
“The cohort is, right now,” Jensen said. “Acting like children.”
“I mean we Peace Keepers,” Sergeant McGrath said. “Always obey orders. Always be ready for a mission. Always be professional. It’s not a lifestyle that works, Jensen. Sometimes, you need to laugh and celebrate a massive victory.”
“We’ve had plenty of celebrations before. We’ve never needed a party. Those kids… they’re infecting us. They’ve already infected Sergeant Allen.”
Sergeant McGrath sighed. “You’ll find yourself down a lonely road like this, Jensen. Too high on your own ideals to come down to the common person.”
“If the common person is like that Mav guy, then I’d rather be up here,” Jensen said. “Then I’d know I’m right.”
“Then you’ll never get to stand side-by-side with Sergeant Allen.”
Jensen huffed. “I’ll show him he’s wrong. I’ll show him I’m worthy of his cohort. Not them.”
“Sounds like you’re not even going to try to change to get into his cohort.”
“He’ll think about me, about how I follow orders, how I do everything HQ tells me to. After another year of those children, he’ll grow tired of them. He’ll remember me, and he’ll definitely accept me into his cohort. Then I’ll change them for the better.”
A short pause. “I want to help you, Jensen. But I’m afraid you’re already too far gone.”
“You can’t help me if there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“At least I have a year.” Sergeant McGrath’s footsteps sounded, then grew quieter. “I just hope I’m not already too late.”
The sound of the elevator descending reached Jensen’s ears, leaving him, yet again, alone in the cold night.