Chapter 90 – Marching Orders

  “Three friendly coming in,” Cole said into his radio before he turned the corner to the base of the spire. A few moments later, Nutmeg came running out to greet them and solicit chin scritches before leading them back to a ruined building near the spire where the rest of the team had staked out on the second floor.

  Beth immediately ran over to Roxy and launched into a hug before telling her about their bad-ass escape from the genie.

  “Though,” she said, finger tapping her chin and shit-eating grin spreading across her face. “You guys do a lot of running away. Maybe your team’s name should be Brave Sir Robin.”

  Howie’s eyes lit up, “Dude!” he said, “I know, right?”

  Cole rolled his eyes as he doffed his pack and rifle for the moment. “We’re an extraction team. Our job is to get you out of danger, Beth—”

  “And what a bang-up job you’re doing,” she mocked.

  “That generally means moving from where there is danger to where there isn’t,” Cole said, giving Howie a pointed look. “It’s not running away if it’s completing your primary OPORD.”

  Besson grunted in agreement at that. Cole looked over, but the dog handler didn’t feel like offering any additional support and turned his attention to Nutmeg.

  “She raises a good point that we don’t have a team name, yet,” said Roxy.

  “Who’s low on water?” asked Cole, changing the subject.

  Roxy raised her hand, and after a moment, so did Besson, nodding down to Nutmeg, who whined. Being front-line fighters had more physical demanding jobs and burned through more fluids. Artian also eyed the water-skins and licked his lips but looked more resigned than greedy. The heat resistance potions made thirst feel twice as bad, but he probably felt that he’d asked enough charity of them. And it could have been worse. He could have fallen in with the team that came behind them and now be genie food or a third corpse waiting to be reclaimed by the stone circle.

  Cole pulled the two water skins he’d taken off the bodies and tossed them over, and also handed the axe over to Besson, who confirmed that the soul-key transfer had happened close enough to extend to him. “Hydrate,” Cole told them. "That’s probably the last we’ll find before we hit the stairs.”

  “Speaking of stairs,” said Howie. He glanced out the window, where two of the ever-present markers shined in the air like ethereal prisms. “How do we avoid any more of those killer genies?”

  Cole shook his head. “I can’t imagine more of them being trapped like that. Seemed like a pretty bespoke solution to a psychic soul-devouring problem.” He glanced at Nona for confirmation, who shrugged. Cole pursed his lips. So helpful. “There are still monsters, in our path, but we’ve got a small group and there are no more teams near us. Our biggest concern is the BC operators.”

  Beth raised her hand. “Who the fuck are the BC?”

  “Beast Cult,” supplied Howie. “Anti-Earth world-jumpers. Human-animal hybrid guys looking to kill DOR Kickers and grab more Earth kids to fight for them. They helped whip those apes into a frenzy and got a lot of uninvolved challengers killed.”

  “They’re bad news,” said Roxy. “Killed a friend of mine in another world. But we made sure they paid for it. I knocked one through a stone pillar.”

  “Bad ass,” said Beth. She turned to Cole. “More running away, then?”

  “If we can avoid them, we will,” said Cole. “Standing orders are to not engage. If they force the issue or I get a good shot, that’s one thing. But… yeah, we’ll do whatever we can to break contact and get you to the next floor. The good news is that they don’t know where we are, so they probably split up to search the area. And they’re not exactly subtle.”

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  “We’re stronger than in Curahee,” added Besson. He hefted the dwarf’s axe. “Not as helpless.”

  “But not invincible. And still exhausted,” said Cole. The genie’s whispered suggestions had mostly worked because they’d been true. “I’ll take first watch. Get some rack time while you can. Roxy, I’ll wake you up in a couple hours for the next watch.”

  “I’m not sure I can sleep after what almost happened last time,” she said, but immediately yawned.

  Cole ducked out the window and pulled himself up to the roof. While the floor wasn’t dark, the only light source was the reflection of the glowing magma on the ceiling of the cave above. Despite that, it still seemed like it had dimmed some, as though Dallemonte still enforced a day-night cycle, even in this entirely underground labyrinth. It offered only a murky, red-orange twilight that surrounded the ruins in a cloak of gloomy, soot-choked air. He settled back against the remains of what probably used to be the wall of a third story that had long-since collapsed and looked out over the crenelations. Pulling off his gloves, he fished out a small container and dropped a pair of caffeine pills into his hand, which he managed to swallow without water.

  A puff of air blew past him, barely perceptible. He turned his head to see Beth leaning against the wall as well, startled to see that he’d noticed her using her ability to join him on the roof.

  “Your eyes are glowing like a cat’s,” she said.

  “So I’m told,” said Cole, turning back to the city and pulling out his vape pen. Caffeine and nicotine: the classic soldier’s cocktail for staying awake while exhausted. “You shouldn’t be wasting ability charges like that.”

  Beth grunted, not denial or affirmation—just acknowledgement that she’d heard him. A silence stretched between them for several seconds before she spoke.

  “So, I’ll admit,” said Beth. “I’d probably be dead now if it weren’t for you and Roxy and the others.” She shuddered. “That fucking statue trap. I’d have kept slashing until every single one was busted open. I owe you guys.”

  Cole exhaled. “You don’t owe us anything, Beth. We’re here to help you.”

  “That’s kind of cool, I guess.” She shifted, arms wrapped around her knees. “They all listen to you and trust you. You guys get to go to other worlds. And you help other people that are like me?”

  Cole nodded. “Kids who get taken.”

  “And everyone on your team was like that once?”

  Sort of. A few people on his team were special circumstances, like Nona and himself. And admittedly, he’d never asked Besson’s deal, and the man wasn’t likely to volunteer his life story to anyone but Nutmeg. But there was a good chance his story aligned. Kids came back, they turned eighteen, then got a year or two of formal military training and experience under their belt before transferring back to DOR. There were exceptions; like rescues that became EMTs or search-and-rescue instead of the military. But that had been the pipeline since Bricker’s kicking days, and being an Army vet, he knew the value of bringing in other veterans—especially if it was the DOD paying to train them instead of DOR. “Pretty much.”

  “You guys get paid?”

  Cole grinned. “Oh yeah. Six figures, easy. But we work our asses off for it.” He waved his hand out over their general environment. “There’s only about fifty or sixty people kicking for DOR right now. More Kickers on hiatus or retired. Maybe another hundred attuned people in non-team roles within the Department. Very, very few people can do what we can do, Beth. What you can do. Even with the ones who have the capacity, most don’t have the capability.”

  Beth looked out, staring at nothing in particular. “I wouldn’t mind getting paid to help people. I wanted to be a social worker, you know. Maybe once I’m done with this place I’ll come back to Earth and help you guys. But not until I’m eighteen. I won’t go back to Earth if I have to go back home.”

  “I think you could do a lot of good,” said Cole, earnestly. “You’ve got an attitude problem. But you’re driven, smart, and know how to survive. With some actual training and some friends to cover you, hell, who knows?”

  “I think I’d like that.”

  It was hard not to. Even with the insane amounts of danger and a casualty rate that would never fly in any of the official armed services, Cole didn’t know if he could ever go back to the Army. DOR wasn’t without its problems. He could already see issues inherent to the organization—the secrecy, the infighting and drama between teams and individuals. Powerful people butting heads, and a director who was a little too used to being king in his own castle. But all that aside, he was exploring new worlds, using powers beyond any capabilities Earth’s technology could give him, and getting paid like an officer. And they weren’t just trading fire with what felt like infinite identical dickheads from Glefa, though Beast Cult could give them a run for their money in the Asshole Olympics.

  “I can’t stop the extraction team from coming after you,” said Cole. “But I will make sure my boss knows your wishes. And that you’d make a good Kicker once we sand down those sharp edges.”

  “Fuck your sanding,” said Beth.

  Cole just grinned and chuckled to himself.

  Yeah. In a few years, he could see her cleaving through a horde of monsters to pull Little Timmy out of an otherworld. Beth had a rotten childhood. Abusive mom, creep for a father figure. But it hadn’t broken her. It had forged her like the heat of a crucible and tempered her. Made her tough. But it hadn’t stripped away her heart, and for all her cynicism about her own circumstances, Beth was obviously someone who cared deeply for others.

  Just the kind of person DOR needed more of.