Luca had said they were stepping up, but he hadn’t said to what. Kasia hoped for something more glorious than collecting shipments.
She managed her day job at Riese with vacant calm. Rude callers failed to rattle her, demagogue managers failed to impose their will. Leah lunched with her oblivious to the truth.
A notice flashed on her portal screen: the German proficiency test beckoned. A chance to climb floors.
She dismissed it and left. Her second job awaited.
For the first time she saw Luca in uniform - a mix of combat fatigues, bold red decoration, and black boots. A stab vest was his protection. On one arm he had a brassard with a single chevron; on the other, the union flag stamped with a gold lion. His black beret, neatly ironed sideways, also had a gold lion - this one of polished metal. On his belt hung a holstered taser.
He rushed the recruits into the van. Kasia eyed his kit up.
“It could be you in this kit one day Kasia! You’d actually look kind of hot in one...” Luca snickered as Kasia fluttered with shyness, “but I’m not dressed up for you lot. We’re meeting our regimental Sergeant Major. Pierce. You to get everything right today. I’m going to ask now, and once: is anyone carrying anything he won’t like? Smokes? Drugs? Edo-period Japanese weaponry?”
Luca interrogated Kasia with his eyes. She shook her head vigorously.
They reached an underground car park. Kasia scanned the area, figuring out a block of flats stood above them. The access ramp was covered by security guards in cyan shirts milling near its barrier. She assumed this was a makeshift barracks.
Luca guided them through a demolished wall connected to the adjacent building. There were two lifts at the end. Drivers sat in a circle, playing a poker match projected from their phones over the floor. Luca’s own drivers joined them, evidently happy and chatting away.
“’Ow come we never ‘ear from them then?” Curtis wagged his thumb at the group. Luca lowered it with his own hand and pressed the lift button.
“Few people can drive. It’s cheaper to hire pissed off gig-drivers than train new ones, it’s smart to have support staff with one function and no other connection to us, and as you've now seen, everyone assumes the van's autopiloted.”
The lift opened. Luca herded the recruits in and waited for the door to close.
“No one will ask any more questions, or complain. From now on you speak when spoken to, and you finish every sentence with ‘Guardsman’, ‘Corporal’, or ‘Sarnt’.”
They alighted into the circular foyer of an office block. Frosted skylights let a hint of afternoon in. The other windows were sealed with foil and tarpaulin.
Uniformed guardsmen stood in groups, falling silent as the recruits entered. One man towered amongst them, hands clasped behind his back, icy and dominating.
The man in charge. Kasia recognised him from their fight with the vagrants. The weathered veteran behind Varma.
He scowled at Corporal Rossi.
“Line them up for inspection.”
Luca formed the recruits up and took his place with the guardsmen. The Sergeant Major paced before the feeble line. He gripped his sabre’s hilt, and faced the first of them down with disdain.
“Sylvester. Why do you have a panther badge on?”
“U-uh…” Sermon pointed at the badge, “ethnic solidarity with-”
“The colour of your skin won’t mean shit when Opus Veda peel it off you,” Pierce prodded Sermon hard enough to force him back, “get rid of this jacket.”
“Y-yea… yes Sir…” Sermon fumbled at the zip, eyes wide with fear.
“No not now. Where you gonna hang it!? Get rid of it next time and address me as Sarnt, there are no commanding officers present.”
Pierce stepped away; paused; threatened to return to Sermon.
“Yes Sarnt!”
He faced Curtis, “there’s nothing much I can say about you. Are you used to people telling you that?”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Yes Sarnt.”
“Do they have nightclubs for the bland and uninspired? Yes, what’re they called again… intimacy clubs? Cuddle clubs? Is that where you get off? Cuddling fatties with low self-esteem?”
“No Sarnt.”
“I don’t like hearing no. I need to hear yes. You will go to a cuddle club later and you will answer my question with ‘yes’ when next we meet. I will expect details. My soldiers need a good laugh.”
“Yes Sarnt!”
It was Kasia’s turn. Pierce grimaced.
“Another beige alert. Another human question mark. At least to look at... Corporal Rossi, isn't this the one who turned up to our collection armed? Is this Kasia the slasher?”
“That is correct Sarnt.”
Pierce flared his nostrils.
“Why.”
“I…” Kasia's throat closed, “the guy... in charge… he threatened to rape-”
“I know what he did. I’m happy you stuck him before he stuck you. I’m asking you why you brought an illegal weapon to my assignment.”
“I… don’t know... Sarnt.”
“Yes you do know. Give me a convincing reason or I’ll discharge you now.”
Kasia felt her balance waver. She staggered.
“I… didn’t feel confident, defending myself... If there was trouble, I didn’t want to let anyone down but... I’m practising unarmed fighting... I'll never do it again… Sarnt.”
“You won’t, or I’ll have you fiddled with by worse monsters than Nazis.”
“Yes Sarnt.”
He nodded once and carried on to Zenia.
“And it ends in tears. What the fuck is that on your head?”
“Dreads, Sarnt.”
“You are Caucasian, are you not?”
“Yes Sarnt.”
“Saxon?”
“Yes Sarnt.”
“Did you ever consider it inappropriate for you to wear dreads?”
“No Sarnt.”
“Did you not hear I don’t like no for answer!?”
“Yes Sarnt!”
“Are you hiding under dreads because you know you're unattractive and dull, like every other Saxon?”
“Yes Sarnt.”
“You look like a discoloured, out-of-date pineapple, do you not?”
“Yes Sarnt.”
“Do you like pineapples?”
“Yes Sarnt.”
“Do you like to bathe in pineapple rings, smearing them on and around your barely-noticeable tits?”
“Yes Sarnt…”
“I thought you probably would…” he sighed and faced Luca, who with the other Guardsmen was desperately hiding a grin.
“Corporal Rossi, even for you this group is frustratingly infertile. I wouldn’t trust them to boil a kettle, let alone function in a battlefield situation.”
“Yes Sarnt.”
“But I’m in a hurry, and you've all shown yourselves loyal enough to keep around,” Pierce looked up and squinted, as if deep in thought, “you’re like an ugly but faithful bit of side-pussy. Fuckable, but not something you’d brag about to your mates. I’ll eat both my helmets the day I see any of you in uniform, but we can use you for now.”
They followed him up to the mezzanine and through featureless corridors. The building was calm, but Kasia caught glimpses of activity. Another wall had been drilled through, this one heavily guarded. Beyond the opening Kasia saw something more suspicious: a group of girls and boys being corralled by a dead-eyed security guard.
They were not dressed for Revolution work.
Luca yanked Kasia’s arm enough to hurt it. She entered a conference room. Everyone took seats. The Sergeant Major looked appalled.
“Who gave you permission to sit down? Up! Get. Up!”
The recruits jumped back up. A snarling sound blasted from Pierce's nose.
“Future assignments will start in this building. You will access and leave the car park via your drivers, and will otherwise not come in or out. You will wait in the foyer downstairs for your orders. You may, when necessary, be led up here for briefing.
You will not enter any other room. You will not use the toilets. If you stray from the aforementioned areas or speak to anyone beyond Corporal Rossi or I you will be discharged immediately. If you enter any building connected to this one, you will face more than that.”
He clicked his watch. A screen panned up the wall; a map of somewhere familiar to Kasia, though she couldn’t place it. A profile shot loaded of a bearded man even more weathered than Pierce.
“Your recipient. Higher profile, higher risk, and more sensitive than your former assignments. A guy known as Gimli, named I expect by someone who couldn’t get a match in a nightclub. He is operating from this tube station, utilising the services of a vagrant gang called... I don’t know the fucking Fellowship probably. It doesn’t matter. When you return to your vehicle you will find crates. These you will take to him. At least two of you should recognise this place.”
He made an expression Kasia assumed was trying to look proud. Then she realised it was aimed at her and Sermon.
“Good on Sylvester and his custardly sidekick for stepping up that day; a noble and well fought battle. Better than pissing away their vapid lives like you two were,” he pointed at the other recruits, and sneered at Zenia, “Jesus I cannot take you seriously with those dreads you genderless lump! Please get a buzz cut tomorrow, for all our sake.”
“I’ve downloaded the details Sarnt,” Luca tapped his phone, “am I going in uniform?”
“You are. We want those gypos remembering who they’re dealing with. Once you’ve made the exchange bring the package straight here. I expect you back in two hours.”
Luca stiffened, “we’re to go now Sarnt?”
“I want this shit out the way. We need to start provisioning for our next phase,” he looked at the recruits with bewilderment, “get fucking to it then? Move it! Out, get out!”
The recruits fled to the van, wobbling with nerves. There was a bitter taste in Kasia’s mouth, and she saw it in Sermon too.
They were going back to the vagrant’s den, handing over crates of unbelievable wealth. Luca knew it too and looked away, refusing to acknowledge them.
The van lumbered over the ramp and down the street. Masked eyes peered from afar and captured the registration.
An alert went out.
