Before Kai could respond, Kozlov returned to his work, the conversation clearly over.
Kai headed toward the southeast barracks, the duffel bag's weight settling across his shoulder.
He climbed the external stairs to the second floor, boots clanging on metal grating.
Through the open door, he could hear voices---the particular energy of young people forced into close quarters.
He stepped into Recruit Bay 3.
A long room with eight bunks lining the walls, footlockers at the base of each bed, a communal table scattered with equipment maintenance supplies.
The walls were decorated with duty rosters, safety posters, a map of the Citadel, and motivational graffiti: "Pain is weakness leaving the body (through your pores, screaming)."
Six recruits were present.
Conversations paused as he entered.
Kai walked to bunk 7---bottom bunk, near the window---and dropped his duffel on it with a solid thump.
"Kai Chen," he said to the room at large, his tone friendly but not desperate for approval. "Just got assigned here."
The stocky recruit he'd seen earlier spoke first.
"Yeah, we heard. Word travels fast when someone gets called to the Commander's office on day one."
He was cleaning his sidearm with practiced efficiency.
"I'm Marcus Webb. Everyone calls me Webb."
He gestured around the room. "That's Kowalski, Chen---no relation I'm guessing---Park, Dos Santos, and Rodriguez."
Kai nodded to each of them, cataloging builds and mannerisms.
"And I'm Darius," said a voice from the bunk across from his.
The recruit with honest features and a Ranger insignia tattooed on his forearm.
"Darius Webb. Yeah, Marcus is my cousin. Family tradition---serve the Rangers, make the wasteland better, all that."
"Good tradition," Kai said simply.
Marcus Webb was still watching him.
"So what's with the command meeting? You in trouble before you even start, or are you special somehow?"
Kai unzipped the duffel and started unpacking, his movements casual.
"Background check flagged something in the system. Commander wanted to brief me personally."
He pulled out the body armor and hung it on the hook beside his bunk.
"Turns out my father was a Ranger who went missing on a mission fifteen years ago. They wanted to make sure I knew about it and that it wouldn't be a problem."
"Shit," Dos Santos said. "That's rough, man."
"Marcus Chen," Darius said suddenly, sitting up straighter. "Your father was Marcus Chen? He's in the history books. Legendary diplomat, spoke like nine languages. They still use his negotiation techniques in officer training."
"Ten languages, actually. But yeah."
Kai returned to unpacking.
As he lifted the rifle case to organize the footlocker's interior, he smoothly slid the classified folder from under his arm and tucked it into the bottom of the locker, beneath the rifle case and field kit.
The movement was natural, part of the unpacking rhythm.
"I'm here to serve, not to trade on the name. Commander made that clear."
"Ten languages?" Kowalski asked. "You got the same talent?"
"Six fluently, working knowledge of four more."
Kai didn't make it sound like bragging.
"Grew up on trade caravans. Learn languages or lose profitable deals."
Marcus Webb set down his sidearm.
"You any good with that rifle, or are you just a talker?"
"Proficient with pistols, still learning rifles. I'm better at talking my way out of fights than shooting my way through them. But I'm a fast learner."
He paused.
"Sergeant Kozlov said training starts at 0600. I plan to be competent by the end of the month."
"Kozlov," Rodriguez groaned. "Man's a hardass."
"Kozlov's fair," Park said quietly. "Tough, but fair. You do the work, he respects it."
"Your father served with him," Darius offered. "Kozlov's mentioned him a few times during training. Spoke highly of him."
"So," Marcus Webb said, leaning back. "You got fast-tracked because of your language skills and your father's history. Command's got plans for you?"
"Colorado mission," Kai said. "The transmissions they're receiving need linguistic analysis. That's why they expedited my recruitment."
The room reacted---a collective intake of breath.
"Colorado," Dos Santos said, shaking his head. "Fuck that frozen hell."
"My dad went on a Colorado patrol," Rodriguez said quietly. "Said it was the worst month of his life."
"If the Rangers are going to Colorado, it's to help people," Darius said, his idealism showing. "Make the wasteland safer. That's worth the risk."
Before the conversation could continue, a voice barked from the doorway: "Attention!"
Everyone was on their feet instantly, including Kai.
A man in his early thirties, corporal's insignia, stepped into the bay.
"At ease. I'm Corporal Hayes, your squad leader."
His eyes scanned the room, landing on Kai.
"Chen. You get squared away?"
"Yes, Corporal."
"Good. Evening formation is at 1730, mess opens at 1800. Tomorrow's schedule is posted on the board---0600 PT, followed by weapons maintenance class, tactical movement drill, and classroom instruction on Ranger protocols."
He pulled out a data pad.
"Chen, you're also scheduled for linguistic assessment at 1400 with Lieutenant Morrison. Don't be late."
"Understood, Corporal."
Hayes left, and the room relaxed.
"See?" Dos Santos muttered. "Already jerking you around. That's Morrison's style---keeps people off-balance."
Kai checked the time---1645.
"Anyone hitting the mess early?" he asked. "I haven't eaten since this morning."
"Smart man," Dos Santos said. "The good stuff goes fast."
Five of them headed out together---Marcus, Darius, Dos Santos, Kowalski, and Kai.
As they walked toward the mess hall, Kai fell into step with the group naturally.
"So Chen," Dos Santos said, "you really think you can learn rifle marksmanship in a month?"
"I said competent, not expert," Kai replied. "There's a difference."
"How long have you all been here?" Kai asked.
"Three weeks," Marcus answered. "Arrived together---same recruitment batch. You're the first addition to our bay since we got assigned."
They grabbed trays and moved through the line.
The cook---a grizzled woman with burn scars---ladles generous portions and slapped down bread.
"Fresh meat," she said, eyeing Kai. "You're the linguist everyone's gossiping about. Your old man was Marcus Chen, right? He used to come through here, always polite, always remembered my name. Good man."
"Thank you," Kai said. "I appreciate hearing that."
They sat at a table in the recruit section.
As they ate, Kai eased into conversation.
"So this Lieutenant Morrison I'm meeting tomorrow," he said. "What's she like?"
The reactions were immediate and varied.
Marcus grimaced.
Kowalski snorted.
Dos Santos rolled his eyes.
"Ambitious," Marcus said carefully. "Sharp, good at her job, but everything's a stepping stone for her."
"She doesn't care about you as a person," Dos Santos added bluntly. "You're a resource. A tool."
"What about Sergeant Kozlov?" Kai asked.
"The man's a machine," Marcus said. "But he's fair. Pushes everyone equally."
"He's old school," Kowalski added. "Believes in discipline, competence, and the Ranger code. The veterans say he's seen some serious shit."
"Did he really serve with my father?" Kai asked, making it sound like genuine curiosity.
"Yeah," Marcus confirmed. "Mentioned it once during a weapons maintenance lecture. Said Marcus Chen saved his life during a hostage negotiation gone bad."
"What have you all heard about the Colorado mission?" Kai asked casually. "Besides that it's dangerous?"
The table went quiet.
Finally, Marcus spoke, lowering his voice.
"Official word is the Patriarch---the warlord who controls Colorado Springs---has requested Ranger assistance in exchange for resources and alliance. Unofficially... everyone knows previous expeditions to Colorado have had shit survival rates. The place is a frozen hell."
"And you got tagged because you can decode their communications," Kowalski said, looking at Kai. "Which means you're valuable enough that command will protect you, but also valuable enough that you'll definitely be going into danger."
A woman in Ranger uniform, sergeant's stripes, approached their table.
"Recruit Chen?"
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Sergeant Mills, Intelligence Division. Lieutenant Morrison asked me to deliver a message."
She tapped her data pad.
"Your linguistic assessment tomorrow at 1400 has been moved up to 0900. Report to Intelligence Wing, Room 7. Don't be late."
By 1725, they were back at the barracks, just in time for formation.
Corporal Hayes walked through, inspecting everyone.
At 2200, the lights went out.
Kai lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling.
From across the room, Darius's quiet voice: "Can't sleep either?"
"Too much to process," Kai admitted quietly.
"Yeah."
A pause.
"For what it's worth, I think your father would be proud."
"Thanks, Darius."
Silence settled.
Eventually, Kai heard Darius's breathing slow---sleep.
But Kai remained awake, thinking, planning.
Around 1735, he stood with casual purpose.
"Heading out," he said. "Need to take care of some administrative stuff from the command meeting. Probably be a couple hours."
"Don't miss lights out at 2200," Marcus warned.