Chương 61: 2.2 The Team

Kessler's Reach wasn't a big town. Most of the permanent residents worked for the research center and university, and the rest of the place existed to serve the rift raiders and the companies and Imperial offices that supported them. They passed a dozen bars, a warehouse-style swap market, two different gyms, and lots and lots of temporary housing. The residence Lemon had found for them was on the edge of town, in the direction of the rift.

It might have been a premium property if it had been updated in the last decade. As it was, it looked run-down and a little sad­­­—a squat stucco building, its courtyard wall weed-choked, and covered in a faded mural that might have once depicted a pastoral scene, but it was hard to tell. Worse, it was wedged between two modern townhomes, highlighting its aged appearance.

"It's not pretty," Lemon remarked, frowning nervously as their van pulled up to the curb, "but it has enough room for us all."

"It's fine," Hector replied.

"At least I'm close to the raider compound."

"You gonna want me and Demon to walk over there with you, Hec?" Orin asked from the back of the van. He was talking about Hector's appointment that afternoon to meet the team. It wasn't something he was looking forward to—the whole introduction process. Having Orin hanging around wouldn't make it any easier. He shook his head, looking over his shoulder at the two men.

"Nah. I'll go alone this time." Demon didn't react, but Orin frowned.

"Man, we're supposed to be watching your back." Hector shrugged.

"Yeah, so check out the town." Orin decided to take the dismissal in a positive light.

"Yeah, good plan. We'll find out who the players are—who calls the shots." Sass inhaled, opening her mouth to speak, but Hector already knew what she was going to say. He beat her to it: "Take Sass with you." The enforcer frowned slightly, but he nodded.

"Right. Sure." While they spoke, the van had parked curbside, and Hector slid the door open, hopping down onto the sunbaked sidewalk. He stretched, popping his neck, as he squinted toward the setting sun. What did the message say? Afternoon? //Actually, it was "upon your arrival." I'm the one who said afternoon, as that was the train's ETA. // Hector grunted in reply, and as Lemon joined him, he pointed to the rusty wrought-iron gate leading into the courtyard.

"Go ahead and get settled. I'm gonna walk over to the compound."

"So soon?" She watched as Sass helped Kit out of the vehicle.

"You worried about being alone here? Want Sass to—""No." She sighed, smiling at her little brother.

"No, she was eager to go with the boys; I could tell. Kit and I will be fine." Hector cleared his throat and shifted his satchel on his shoulder. He almost started walking without saying anything to anyone else, but then Lemon grabbed his arm.

"Do you want me to pick a room for you? I'll have Orin bring your bag in." She tugged on his satchel's strap.

"What about this? You don't want to be carrying a bag around when you meet those folks, do you?" He shook his head, tugging the strap free of her grip.

"This is fine. Just pick me a room with a bathroom…" He frowned, looking from Lemon to Sass, and then to Orin and Demon as they unloaded the van.

"Unless there's only one with a—" Lemon shook her head.

"Three of the rooms have ensuites—not exactly updated, but not bad, either. I'll set you up in one of them."

"Good." Hector noticed Sass staring, so he held out a fist. She grinned and thumped it with her knuckles.

"See you in a while." With that, he turned and, hands in the pockets of his black windbreaker, started walking down the smoothly paved road leading away from town. He glanced at his mini-map; Evie had updated it already, and it looked like his destination was only a couple of kilometers away. With a thought, he zoomed out and saw that the "raider compound" was only about five klicks from the rift.

He figured if the land was flat enough, he'd be able to see it when he cleared the last few concrete and plasteel buildings. Kessler's Reach was the kind of town that wouldn't exist if not for the local industry—in this case, the rift. There weren't any fields, nor was there a mine nearby. He didn't see any signs of industry, other than those that were direct off-shoots of the research facilities—corporations working under Imperial contract to experiment with rift flora, fauna, and materials.

How much do they discover every year that was already discovered and lost half a dozen times? //An interesting topic of study—the rise and fall of human civilization and the effect it has on the collective basis for technological achievement. Even putting aside the loss of discovered science over the millennia, one has to marvel at the loss of history—erased and rewritten hundreds of times by victors… or simply by those who survived. // Hector snorted.

"Don't get too worked up over it." As he cleared the last of the buildings and the road began to climb into rolling hills, he realized he wouldn't be getting a view of the rift, at least not right away. Still, there was plenty to look at. Off to the west, he saw the curved blue polymer dome of the town's fusion reactor, and right beside it, the almost alien-looking matte-black obelisk of the gravity generator.

"At least the rift warrants a generator." Hector didn't enjoy low-G activities of any sort, let alone fighting. Of course, just because they'd improved the gravity around the rift didn't mean they had any control of what things would be like inside it. //This rift is very consistent—most of the raids have experienced gravity that was a ninety percent match for Earth. //"Good."

Hector wasn't surprised; while rifts could vary greatly where atmosphere and gravity were concerned, most were strangely similar to Earth, even though many of the rifts—like the one at Kessler's Reach—weren't anywhere near the cradle of humanity. A few vehicles hummed by on the road. Most had tinted windows, so he couldn't see who was within, though a few were transparent. One of those was an auto-cab—the same company as the van they'd rented—and it was packed full of young, hungry faces.

Men and women who reminded Hector of the soldiers he used to work with. He didn't think they were IG—the Empire didn't rent cabs—but he figured they might be vets. After a while, he crested a short hill and got a view of the raid compound. Ten or so long, flat structures stood around a massive drill field, and he could already see a handful of teams working together out on the synthetic turf.

He nodded in appreciation as he started walking again, taking in the details: retractable cover frames to simulate hazardous environments, segmented turf panels where obstacles likely lurked, drone racks, emitter pylons, a target range, and even impact craters farther out. The teams weren't part of the same crew. One was running coordinated drills, another had formed a circle around sparring fighters. A third team ran timed trials on the range, and a fourth was doing good old-fashioned PT.

It was a chaotic scene—loud, messy, and a little dangerous. Hector smiled—it looked like home. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. He finished the walk down the hill, crossed the parking lot of the admin building—IMPERIAL RIFT AUTHORITY stamped in bold brass letters above the double doors—and walked inside. The shift in the atmosphere felt jarring; outside it was warm and breezy, and inside the air was still, quiet, and very cold.

Either the officer in command enjoyed working in an icebox, or the climate control unit was failing. Hector walked over the polished tiles to the reception desk where a young woman in an Imperial Guard uniform sat, tapping away on a crystal-glass tablet.

"How can I help, sir?" she asked without looking up.

"I'm supposed to meet Melanie Mathews. She runs one of the civilian raid companies."

"Of course, of course." The woman tapped the tablet a few more times, then looked up.

"New to the compound?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, we'll need to get you a visitor's badge—""That won't be necessary, trooper." Hector turned toward the strident voice to see a tall, black-haired woman wearing red and gray camouflage fatigues. An exterior door slammed behind her as she strode toward them.

"This one will be joining my team. You should have a badge for him already—Gina set it up for me this morning."

"Oh?" The soldier started opening drawers, digging through the contents. Meanwhile, the woman—Melanie Mathews, Hector assumed—came close enough to hold out a hand to Hector. He shook it, and she smiled, revealing chromed canines. Her eyes were custom, too—dual pupils inside bright green irises.

"Bout damn time you showed up. I understand money changed hands and I've got to suck it up and deal, but that doesn't mean I like it. My team's lives are on the line. Every day you don't train with them is another day—" Hector held up a hand, interrupting the lecture.

"I get it."

"If you get it, then you better be ready to bust your ass." She frowned, looking at him critically for a moment before nodding briefly and turning back to the receptionist.

"Well, trooper? Find it?"

"Um, I think so. Is it Hector Valerius?" She held up a black ID badge with Hector's face, name, and a digital glyph that represented his biometric identification codes. Melanie snatched the card and handed it to Hector.

"We're done drilling for the day, but you can come out and meet the team." Hector flipped the card back and forth between his fingers, nodding.

"Sure." He glanced at the receptionist.

"Got a lanyard?"

"Um, sorry, but—""I'll get you one," Mathews interrupted.

"Come with me." With that she turned and marched for the exterior door. Hector hurried to keep up. She held the door for him, and he slipped through.

"We've got the gym for another twenty minutes." She pointed across a wide section of lawn where some troopers were drilling, to one of the long pre-fab buildings. It had a higher roof than the others nearby, but other than that, they were near-identical.

"How many IG are stationed here?" Mathews looked at him with a narrowed eye.

"Just a platoon—standard for a rift that hasn't seen a breach in decades." Hector nodded. He knew the Guard platoon would be a small part of the defense, in any case; the raiders in residence would be the first to respond to a breach. Mathews walked across the grass, heedless of the soldiers' marching drill, and Hector followed, keeping step. She glanced at him, frowning.

"You seem young. Lots of rejuv?"

"Something like that."

"Lammy said you were a surly son of a bitch." Hector had no idea who Lammy was—maybe the contact Grando had been dealing with. If that were the case, then Grando was the one telling people he was surly.

"I guess I can't argue with that." Mathews snorted, shaking her head.

"Kristina is gonna love you." He supposed the appropriate response was to ask who Kristina was, but Hector was already dreading the upcoming introductions and he didn't want to deal with a prelude from the team's manager. Instead, he asked, "How many aura users on the team?"

"Well, including you, there'll be four—all security. Then we've got our resident biologist, his geologist partner, and ten or so grunts they subcontract to work the extraction equipment. I don't get to train them, but they're all supposedly well-trained." Hector slowed his steps, narrowing his eyes at her.

"That's a pretty small team." She stopped, glancing at the doors to the gym—only a few meters away—then back to Hector.

"That's right, and that's how we like it. Or do you have something against a bigger profit share?"

"You going in?"

"Damn right. Think of me as a troubleshooter in there; I can fill a lot of roles."

"Aura?" Her eyes flared emerald green, and Hector felt a rush of aura so strong that it tugged at the potentia in his cells, a prickling pull that raised the hairs along his neck and arms. She'd been masking her aura the whole time. He nodded, a new sense of respect straightening the slouch out of his shoulders.

"Good to know."

"Come on, we'll meet the rest of the team. Well, everyone except for the subs." Hector stepped forward and pulled the door open for her, and she nodded. The way she moved, the severity of her military-style bun, told Hector she'd served; he just didn't know if it had been with the Empire or a merc unit. He followed her into the gym, glancing left to right, taking in the mats, the weight machines, the ropes hanging from the ceiling, and the group of people sitting around in matching skin-tight compression suits.

They were in a loose circle, stretching and chatting, but when Mathews approached, most of them jumped up, and everyone's eyes fixated on Hector. He wasn't shy; he'd been scrutinized by commanding officers, judiciary panels, even royal entourages. Even so, something quivered in the pit of his stomach, and he had to concentrate to keep his expression neutral, resisting the urge to form a reactionary frown.

"Line up!" Mathews barked.

"Let's get these introductions over so tomorrow we can hit the ground running. Seventeen days until raid time, folks; we've got our work cut out for us." She pointed to a red line on the mat beside her.

"Stand here, Hector." He stepped forward, watching as the rest of the team lined up facing him on a similar line. There were only five of them, and, according to what Mathews had just told him, two weren't even fighters. He picked them out right away—a man and a woman, both lacking the hard edges of the other three.

"On your left, Hector. That's Arnold Perry. He works security." The tallest, most muscle-bound member of the team nodded, but he didn't smile; his deep-set eyes were dark and angry as he glared at Hector. For his part, Hector gave him a once over and noted his metallic hands and wrists exposed by his suit.

"Next to him is Kristina." The woman—young and wiry, with white hair and bio-modded fox ears—smiled, exposing long, sharp canines.

"Hey!"

"She's our most friendly team member," Mathews said, but one of the others was quick to disagree—a middle-aged bald fellow wearing multi-lens specs. Despite his very normal appearance, there was a vibrant quality about him that made his grin almost infectious— almost; Hector didn't smile.

"Nah, come on, Melanie. Plenty of us are friendly." He waved at Hector.

"I'm Bobby Hatch, the team biologist and doctor." Mathews spoke over him.

"Next to Bobby is our other security officer, Red." She chuckled, glancing at Hector.

"Yeah, just Red." The tall, lanky fellow nodded, and Hector had the feeling that if he were wearing a gun-belt, the man would have his thumbs hooked in it.

"Good to meetcha."

"Is that everyone?" Mathews asked." Hey!" the other female member of the team cried, raising her hand.

"Hi, Hector! I'm Paige Melnyk, the team geologist." Mathews threw Hector a surreptitious wink; she'd skipped the woman on purpose.

"Anyway, everyone, this is Hector. I know you weren't planning on him being on the team. I know time is short, but—""Yeah, thanks for fucking us over, sport," the big guy—Perry—said, turning to walk toward the far side of the gym where Hector could see a door labeled, LOCKERS.

"Perry, get your ass back here," Mathews growled. The big guy took a few more steps, but they were slow, and he eventually came to a halt. He lazily turned, glaring at Mathews. Hector looked at everyone else; they all seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see how Mathews would handle the insubordination. Mathews stared until the big guy growled and took two long strides toward her, his massive thighs flexing with each step in his skin-tight suit." What?"

"You need to lose the attitude, and I mean, right damn now!" Mathews growled, stepping forward. She was tiny compared to the two-meter brute—maybe a third of his weight—but she carried herself with an authority of command that left no doubt that she knew she was in charge." C'mon, Commander," Perry whined, telling Hector two things. One was that Perry was all talk; he'd broken quickly and the whine in his voice didn't even sound angry.

The other was that Mathews was a former merc; there were no "commanders" in the IG. The big man continued, "We lost Hakeem for this guy. Hakeem! He was wrapping things up in the trench, ready to come back, and—""Stop your moaning, you big pansy," the fox-eared woman said, darting forward to kick the big man behind his right knee. She was quick, and the blow was perfectly placed; the leg buckled, and Perry took a stumbling step forward, narrowly avoiding a fall to the mats.

"You bitch!" the brute growled, but there was amusement in his voice." Demons and Angels!" Mathews groaned, her hands clenching into fists.

"Can I not talk to you idiots for more than a minute without things devolving into grab-ass? If you're worried about how Hector is going to work into the team, then you better be ready to work out the kinks in practice tomorrow. That means on time. Perry, I'm looking at you when I say—" She closed her mouth, tilting her head to the side as she turned toward the door they'd come through.

"Do my ears deceive me?" Hector shook his head. He'd recognized it too—a low, pulsing rumble that came in waves. It wasn't just a sound, though; it was something you felt, like the ground itself was flexing under the strain.

"Grav-drive," he growled, already striding toward the exit. A grav-drive meant one thing—an Imperial lander was coming down.