“The Steel Cast are a blight on our race. There is no excuse for trying to play God. By bringing them back, we say that we’re equal to God. I don’t feel bad for the dead. They knew what they signed up for.”

  “Do you… do you hear yourself right now? The Steel Cast program is a way for fallen soldiers to live again. Your belief in a book has no right to influence the way we live our lives in the Republic.” — From the last debate, October 3265.

  Meeting multiple beings of immeasurable power was intimidating. Doing it with only a squad as moral backup was downright terrifying. Unfortunately though, when an Unranked Officer gives a squad—or anyone—a direct order, the only correct answer was compliance.

  Jack mulled over the information about the program Dave was getting into for several days now. The meeting with the officers had resulted in an invitation for nearly all members of Turaspeir to join the enhancement program. While the implications were incredible, he was afraid of the consequences if the experiments went poorly. It didn’t help that Thea was one of the first volunteers to become another test subject if everything worked out with the Aegis.

  And Warren.

  And Alec.

  And Nessa.

  In the end, all seven members of Turaspeir were willing to become lab rats if it meant being able to protect more life. Honestly, it was an admirable trait he would probably share if he could join them. Sadly, his double dose of Serum back on Algol left him in a state where further modification would be extremely dangerous, so naturally that meant he was the only member of his squad that would remain unmodified. This entire ordeal terrified him, but he didn’t have time to be worried anymore.

  He and Thea lay on a bed with no blankets, enjoying each other’s company in a rare moment of privacy. It was only a matter of hours—minutes—before they would leave this cabin for the last time. After a year of calling it home, he’d gotten comfortable.

  The military is many things, but unfortunately comfortable is not one of them.

  “I’m going to miss this place,” Jack said, staring up at the metal ceiling.

  “Why? It’s just a cabin that we’ve slept in. The thing that matters is the people in it. We are going to the same place. So why should we be sad?” Thea said, nestling her head deeper into his shoulder.

  “I get that, but it’s still the first place we had together.”

  “Nope. The first place was that clearing in the woods a day before we left Algol.”

  She was right, and if Jack were honest with himself, he knew someone would occupy this cabin within hours of their departure. It was never theirs, merely a place to stay while living on the ship.

  “I think I finally found us a place,” Jack breathed.

  “Oh? And here I thought the company ship was enough.”

  “I mean for after the AHF.”

  “You presume we’ll both make it out alive.”

  “One can only hope,” he said, casting the real estate listing to her HUD with his free hand while staunchly refusing to let her go with the other.

  “It’s just a mountain?” she asked, puzzled as she opened the listing.

  “Just a mountain… for now. We can have a home built and we can move in when we get out. We have the same End of Service date, so we’ll leave the AHF together.”

  “And how do you propose we build this house?”

  “I’m thinking windows so big you can see the valley from any room, a library with every book we can collect, and a trail that will lead us straight up the mountain so that we can see the stars any night we choose.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she replied. “But it’s not an answer.”

  “Contractors? We can hire someone and get updates when we dock for supplies.”

  They both knew why she was hesitant. The life of a soldier was hard and unpredictable. With Jack being an Optic, it was very possible they would force him to serve a longer term since. Or, a major outbreak of disease could tear through a colony world and demand the aid of every Phantom within several light-years, effectively trapping Thea just as thoroughly as Jack. Either way, the future was cloudy and unknown to them both.

  “All members of Charlie Company, Four-Sixteenth Battalion, Seventh Mechanized Infantry are ordered to report to company headquarters at zero-six hundred. Armor and weaponry have already been loaded, but clothes and personal items have not. Any soldier holding up our departure because he or she forgot to pack two weeks ago will be glared at severely,” Bob announced, reading the captain’s message in a way that was impossible to ignore.

  “Thanks, Bob, we’re on the way. The Captain won’t need to glare at us,” Jack said with amusement, glad the still-recovering officer was starting to feel like herself again.

  “She is only saying that because kicking someone’s ass is awfully hard for her at the moment. I still wouldn’t piss her off too much, though.”

  “No, I don’t think that would be terribly wise.”

  Sitting up and pulling himself out of bed, Jack slipped his feet into a pair of black boots. Not tying his shoes had been strange when he first joined the AHF, but now the familiar sensation of smart material tightening around his calves was normal.

  Jack walked to the door with his bag slung over his shoulder. Stopping at the door, he turned and took one last look. Despite how much he didn’t want it, it was time to move on.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Jack, might I remind you that you are the leader of your little band of soldiers? Your Captain sent a message specifically to remind people to be on time and you’re about to be late.”

  “Time check?” he asked Thea.

  “Oh-five-thirty,” she replied, reading the display of her HUD.

  “Damn, we need to move.”

  They hadn’t gone more than twenty feet before running into another member of Charlie Company. They recognized the man from a handful of brief interactions, but not much more. Waving, Jack tried to start a conversation. “Specialist Krane, good to see that we’re not the only ones late.”

  The Third Platoon armorer looked as if he’d just woken up from a particularly good nap. Knowing what they did about the man, that was a very strong possibility. He carried no bag and swayed as he stumbled down the hall, barely managing to move in the right direction. Jack had to assume the specialist was still drunk from the night before.

  “Yep. Happens every time we go to garrison. At least I can claim that I was inventorying Third’s equipment. What’s your excuse going to be?”

  “Hoping not to need one,” Jack said, stepping up his pace and pinging the nearest lift with his Vis-HUD.

  “I would keep one in your back pocket. Never know when a good excuse will come in handy.”

  “Ok Spec,” Thea cut in, “How are you going to sell that story when you have no gear with you?”

  “Same way I always do, claim I was below decks and got too wrapped up in my work.”

  Both younger soldiers were at a loss for what to say. When an older soldier gave you advice, it was generally something to remember. This was clearly not one of those times.

  “Hey Krane, why are there so many non-combatants in each platoon?” Jack asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Shit Sar’ent, you haven’t figured it out by now? You have your own attack squad. This is something you shoulda picked up.”

  “Humor me,” Jack said as all three stepped onto the Lift and began flying toward the company ship.

  “The short answer is; that’s how many it takes to maintain a fighting presence. Two Non-combatants for every fighter. It helps keep the armor clean, gear packed, and weapons repaired.”

  “You would think they want as many boots on ground as possible.”

  “And if the situation ever gets bad enough, we’ll charge in right behind you. Most of us still know how to fight just as dirty as we did back in the day. The truth is, if we only had trigger pullers, this army wouldn’t run.”

  “Really?” Thea said, paying little attention.

  “That’s nothing. Back in the days of terrestrial warfare, the ratio was something closer to twenty to one. To be honest, that number is still about the same. It just doesn’t look so imbalanced on the platoon level,” the man explained as the lift came to a stop. “Speaking of platoons, you’d better get to yours before they notice how close you’re cutting it. We’re staging everyone in their armories.”

  Nodding in thanks, Jack and Thea parted ways with the quartermaster. In front of them, the ship’s doors stood open while maintenance crews ran through the last-minute pre-flight checks that were necessary to ensure their success.

  For the first time in over a year, Jack noted the bright white letters painted on the hull. It felt appropriate, especially considering the clandestine missions his squad seemed to take on.

  FALLING DAGGER

  He suspected whoever christened the machine knew someone could take it in many ways. Was it falling into an enemy’s heart, removing a threat before it could develop into a larger problem? Or was it falling out of their hands as they limped back from a mission with impossible objectives?

  They walked down the familiar pathway that led to their Platoon’s armory. As they drew closer, they could hear the murmur of familiar voices interrupted by raucous laughter. It was the sound of people that knew and accepted that every day might be their last. They were his family, and despite his fear, not one person blamed him for the injuries they had suffered. It was an obvious mental move forward, but one that was needed more than he could admit.

  Stepping inside, they found twenty-three soldiers staring at them like they’d taken the last piece of cake at a child’s birthday party.

  “About time you showed up,” Hawkins said with a smirk. “You two sleep in?”

  “No, came as soon as the message came through. Speaking of, how did you all beat us here?”

  “Well, for one, we collectively decided to mess with you and got here super early,” Alec said.

  “For another, we all know what time the Captain usually wants us here,” Sergeant Smith added from the corner where the other support soldiers waited.

  “How early is early?” Thea asked Nessa, choosing one of the few two remaining seats and strapping in.

  “We slept here, again. You know, it’s beginning to feel like a habit.” Nessa laughed, reminding everyone that she’d pulled this trick before.

  “Cap, this is Fourth Platoon. We are all ready and accounted for,” Lieutenant Hawkins reported over the comm after Jack had settled in.

  “Thank the stars. At least one of you got here on time,” she grumbled.

  Confused, Jack shot a look down at his watch, and drew a surprising amount of laughter. The orders had specifically stated to be there by six. By his clock, the members of Charlie Company still had another fifteen minutes before Griffin would be forced to hold back their departure.

  “Thea had me send you an alternate time to make sure you were here well in advance,” Hawkins explained. “You still have close to forty-five minutes before launch. By the Captain’s math, you’re still on time, but just barely.”

  “When did everyone get this notice?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Last night,” Thea answered, “But I know us. Better yet, I know you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, knowing knew where this was going.

  “That you would have set the alarm for thirty minutes before we needed to be here and completely ignored the unspoken rules of military promptness?”

  “Ok, that’s… fair,” Jack laughed, leaning back and accepting the good-natured move.

  “That girl… sneaky as the dickens, I swear,” Dave said slowly.

  “Best part about her. She can pull off her jokes and enjoy her fun without causing someone else to fail.”

  They spent the remaining time before their departure in a way that only soldiers could understand. They passed stories of prior conquests back and forth so rapidly, Jack could no longer tell where one ended and another began.

  The ability to form a bond with people you’ve only just met was something soldiers had cultivated over thousands of years. At this point, it was just something that came with the job title. It was such a vital part of the military system that commanders would often place groups of Joes in a room for an extended time for this express purpose.

  “All present and accounted for,” Captain Griffin said, cutting through the chatter, “Charlie Company will depart from the bay in five. Since we haven’t pulled a hot landing in a while, the pilots will Gate directly into atmo. If you know what’s good for you, do not leave your seat until you hear the all-clear.”

  “What’s a hot landing?” Alec asked.

  “It’s where we get turned into a soda that’s been shaken up by a four-year-old,” a soldier in the second squad lineup said. “Didn’t eat much, did you?”

  Jack connected his sight with First Sergeant Summers and watched as the bridge went through the steps to power up the engines. Shortly after, the older NCO sent him a ping, acknowledging that he knew about Jack’s connection.

  “Hey! Loop us in, we wanna watch too!” Alec said, prompting a response from the rest of the platoon.

  Briefly flaring his power, Jack forged a link with every soldier in the room and brought them in on the observation.

  They watched in fascination as the hanger clamps released the ship and her engines took over. On the bridge, a pair of pilots gently maneuvered the ship’s nose toward the now open hangar doors, only pushing the throttle enough for them to slide through the translucent blue barrier that separated the HUB ship from the vacuum of space.

  Once clear of the main ship by a few thousand kilometers, the bow took on the familiar appearance of Gate travel. A year ago, the idea of watching the ship turn to dust while he was still in it turned his stomach. Now, he’d been through the process so often, he didn’t even twitch as his body dissolved into subatomic particles.