Chapter 15
Thirteen hundred hours brought the smell of industrial bleach and rotting meat.
Heavy steel chains rattled across the ceiling of the Sector Four staging yard. The hydraulic winches groaned. They lowered a fresh Danger Class 4 Siege-breaker carcass onto the blood-stained concrete. The beast was the size of an armored transport vehicle. Thick gray plating covered its hulking shoulders. It dripped a viscous black fluid onto the floorboards.
Vice Captain Iris Calder paced around the dead mass. She carried a jagged thermal blade resting over her shoulder.
"The strike team recovered this asset at zero nine hundred," Iris projected her gravelly voice over the hum of the overhead vents. She swept her dark eyes over the twelve recruits forming a loose semi-circle around the drop zone. "If you want to survive long enough to hit Jaeger rank, you need to know how to kill efficiently. Where do you cut to drop a Siege-breaker's mobility?"
A recruit in the front row raised his hand halfway. "The Achilles tendon. Focus sustained plasma fire on the rear hocks."
Iris let out a slow sigh. Exhaustion weighed down her scarred features.
"Do that," Iris said, her tone flat, "and your rifle overheats. The bone density shatters your rounds, and the asset bites your head off. You just died, and you got your squad killed. Anyone else?"
The staging yard stayed silent. The teenagers exchanged nervous glances. They stepped back from the stench of the carcass.
Caleb leaned his good shoulder against the chain-link fencing. The smell triggered pure muscle memory. The rotting marrow, the thick ozone, the heavy slop of dead weight.
"Ignore the tendon," Caleb said.
Iris stopped pacing. She shifted her attention to the back of the group. "Enlighten us, Mercer."
Caleb pushed off the fence and walked through the semi-circle of recruits. His boots crunched over the gravel. He stepped into the puddle of black fluid pooling beneath the creature. Reaching out, he grabbed the thermal knife resting on the nearest equipment rack.
"The cartilage gap is an inch wider on the left side due to the creature's asymmetrical weight distribution," Caleb explained. His voice held the bored certainty of a mechanic diagnosing a broken engine. He stepped directly under the hanging thigh. "Ignore the rear legs."
He ignited the blade. The super-heated edge glowed a blinding white.
The knife drove straight into the microscopic gap in the left knee joint. His wrist twisted hard. The blade severed the synovial sac with a wet tear.
The entire left side of the Siege-breaker's lower half collapsed. It hit the concrete with a thud that shook the floorboards.
The hum of the fluorescent lights filled the quiet staging yard.
Iris lowered her heavy blade. The hard, untouchable exterior melted away. The Vice Captain offered a genuine smile. The jagged scar tissue pulled tight across her cheeks.
"Look at that," Iris murmured. A deep hum of satisfaction rumbled in her throat. "The Scrapper actually knows where the meat separates from the bone."
She pulled her blade back, resting it against her shoulder.
"Kade thinks you're either a fluke or a weapon," Iris told him. "Today decides which."
She slammed the flat of her blade against a metal transport crate.
"Grab your surplus kits," Iris ordered the rest of the class. "We run live fire drills in five minutes. Mercer, you're running point for Assault Squad Three. Don't slow them down."
-----
The heavy steel door of Barracks 4 clicked shut.
Caleb dropped his canvas duffel bag onto the floorboards. The narrow room contained nothing but a rusted footlocker and a stiff mattress wrapped in factory plastic. Dust motes drifted through the pale light leaking from the hallway grate.
He sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress. His right arm throbbed a steady, rhythmic ache. A starving heat coiled behind his sternum. A sharp cramp twisted his empty stomach. The heat radiating from his healing ribs demanded fuel, burning through his energy reserves and leaving him weak.
Reaching into his canvas jacket pocket, he pulled out a dense military-grade calorie bar. He tore the foil wrapper with his teeth and forced the dry paste down his throat. It tasted like compressed sawdust, but the burning heat in his chest dulled into a manageable simmer.
His fingers dug into his left pocket and pulled out the matte black comms chip.
Iris had tossed it back to him after the morning briefing. He held it in the center of his calloused, tape-wrapped palm.
He peeled the adhesive backing free and pressed the chip hard into the skin behind his right ear. A sharp sting locked the hardware back into his flesh.
A spark of static crackled directly into his auditory canal.
The standard military blue HUD inside his visor flickered. The data corrupted, washing the glass in a pulsing purple.
[??? : I enjoyed watching you carve open that carcass.]
The encrypted voice vibrated softly against his skull.
[??? : I enjoyed the briefing room even more. She thinks she can keep you. A military title doesn't grant her ownership. She doesn't understand our arrangement. You defended me, Caleb. You told her you need me. I noticed.]
Caleb swallowed the last of the ration bar. He stared at the blank concrete wall. The raw exhaustion dragged at his spine.
"I told her the truth," Caleb said, his voice low and tired. "You pay the bills. That's all I said."
[??? : You belong in the dark with me. The public feeds are beneath you. I'll supply the engagement points. I'll fund your rise to Jaeger rank. But you must bleed exclusively for my entertainment.]
Caleb rested his forearms on his knees and laced his fingers together. He walked a razor-thin line. One wrong word and she could wipe his military clearance from the grid.
"Listen," Caleb rasped. "I know what you did in the deployment bay. I know you dropped the capsule, bought the feed, and kept me alive when the military wrote me off. I owe you my life."
The static hummed softly, waiting.
"I'm asking for space," Caleb continued, keeping his voice quiet and careful. "If you hijack the medical staff, or hack my visor while I'm holding a rifle, I'll die out there. Or I'll fail the drills."
[??? : Are you making excuses, Caleb?]
"I'm trying to survive," Caleb said. He leaned his head back against the cold concrete wall. "My arm is barely working. The surplus armor is dead weight. If I wash out this afternoon, they throw me back in the disposal yards. You lose the feed."
A long pause stretched through the earpiece. The power dynamic was absolute. She held his life in her hands.
"Just let me survive the afternoon," Caleb whispered. "I'll give you a show. I'll put the targets in the dirt. Just let me work."
The purple code rippled, shifting slowly across the glass.
[??? : We'll see.]
The text dissolved back into standard military blue.
Caleb gripped the edge of the mattress. His hands shook slightly from the raw fatigue. He picked up his helmet.
Fluke or weapon. They were about to find out.