Chương 161: Chapter 159 – Back on Track

Over the next week, the rest of Cole's team filtered back from the four winds. Cole gathered them, along with Morganstern and her proctors, and a few extras, at the farmhouse for a Friday cookout to exchange stories from the month they'd spent apart.

"Beth might as well have been speaking a different language," said Roxy, grabbing Beth's shoulder.

"Imagine two forty-year olds with English as their second language trying to parse her brain rot." Beth cackled next to her, already into her second beer. No one looked at her funny for the underage drinking. She'd earned more than a little leeway fighting her way through Babel.

"They were super sweet, though," said Beth.

"Kept asking if I was hungry, constantly. Kept asking if I had a boyfriend. Asking whether Roxy was being nice to me." Cole laughed.

"Maybe I'll take you to meet my Grandfather and you can see the other extreme. Growing up in the house of a retired first sergeant is…"

"What puckered your butt into a diamond dispenser?" asked Beth, grinning. Morganstern snorted beer out of her nose and Roxy roared with laughter. Even Nona cracked a smile, though she hid it quickly.

"Oh, shit," said Morganstern, shaking the beer from her hand.

"She's got you there, Airborne." Cole glanced over at Howie, hunched over next to the grill, barking back at a confused-but-enjoying-the-attention Nutmeg and Clove while Besson manned the grill. He sighed.

"Like the rest of my team isn't goofy enough." Howie, noticing Cole's glance, brushed himself off and sauntered over. Roxy looked up at his sunburned face, shaking her head.

"I still can't believe that we get back from an otherworld excursion, and your first instinct is to go camping.

"Not just camping," said Howie.

"Minimalist survival and primitive technology school. Been wanting to do it for years, but you can't exactly afford it on an E2 salary. I didn't know it was going to be me and a bunch of rich yuppies, but the teacher was shocked to have someone that could already start a fire."

"So did you actually learn anything?" asked Morganstern.

"Actually, yeah," said Howie, dropping down next to Morganstern. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a short blade fixed in a split bone handle.

"I made this knife from scratch. Dude had a whole course on using modern knowledge with stone-age equipment. Collected the iron from a river and used a hand-cranked impeller to heat the forge." Morganstern took the knife and held it up, eying the edge.

"That's fuckin' cool," she admitted, handing it back.

"I've never forged a knife. But I'd want to use modern tools. Maybe I'll take a class." On Morganstern's other side, Wayland spoke up.

"That sounds fun. I watched Forged in Fire as a kid. Always wanted to try it." Morganstern scowled.

"Thanks for dating me, Wayland," she said. She rolled her eyes at Cole and mouthed as a kid. Cole didn't say anything. He was pretty sure he was closer to Wayland's age than Morganstern's. Arley chuckled on the other side of the fire, probably thinking the same thing. Cole decided to change the subject.

"So what was that ability you used on Curahee?" he asked.

"Or was it the gun? I've never seen a shot like that. Puts the Ukrainians and the Canadians to shame, distance wise."

"Oh, you liked that?" said Arley, grinning through his beard.

"Bit of both, actually. I got that long-gun from a 1700's tech world. I think it's supposed to be mounted on a ship. My active lets me sink multiple charges into a single shot. The more charges I burn, the faster and harder it hits. Ultimate sniping skill." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"How come you can't do that, Cole?" asked Beth.

"Because I'm not as cool as Arley," said Cole.

"Excuses," said Alexa from where she leaned against the porch. Arley barked a laugh.

"Well, I also can't jump half a mile, so there's that." Besson whistled. Cole pushed up and made his way over to the grill with Howie to start loading burgers and steaks onto plastic plates. He looked down at the steaks and grimaced. With how much money they were making, why were they still cheaping out by buying bargain bin bulk steaks like they were still E3s?

"You sure you don't want a break from the grill?" asked Cole.

"I'm good," said Besson. He nodded his chin to the circle—more specifically, to Wayland's back.

"He's the one you want to bring in?" Cole nodded.

"What's your take?" Besson chewed his lower lip for a second.

"The girls like him." Howie snorted.

"By the girls, I'm assuming you mean Nutmeg and Clove?" The two boxers looked up from where they lay at Bessons feet as Howie mentioned their names.

"Ah, yeah," he said.

"That might just be because he always smells like meat," said Cole.

"Dried liver in his pockets."

"Heh," said Besson, chuckling.

"That'd do it, but naw. They can tell. He's good people. Had it rough, getting nabbed by Kevlesh. Came back in one piece with his soul intact. He's tough." Howie looked at Cole.

"Was that your read?" he asked. Cole nodded.

"He's real tough. And selfless. Put himself out on a limb to help me and Morgan on Curahee. Plus those blood buffs he's got patch some of our weak spots." Howie nodded.

"Like that genie. Psychic assaults, curses, deific shenanigans." He nodded to Besson.

"If Nutmeg likes him then I like him. Dogs are the best judges of character, you know." Roxy shouted over from the fire.

"Hey, what's the deal with those steaks? I'm dyin' over here!"

"They're resting, give it a sec," Cole shouted back. He turned to the other two.

"It's good you two approve, because one of you might be giving him orders. If Wayland is on the team, with Nutmeg, Clove, and Archie, that makes ten total bodies. That's enough to split into two teams—an assault team and a fire support team, and I need you two to step up." He looked at Besson and Howie in turn." You'll be leading the assault team," he said to Besson, "Y ou'll be leading the fire support team. Whenever I'm not with either team, you'll be calling shots.

It's time we establish a proper chain of command." Both of the kickers glanced at each other, uncomfortable with the idea of taking on a leadership role—even a subordinate one. Especially when it didn't come with a pay bump. Howie was the first to speak up.

"Hell, guess I'm your man," he said.

"What about Roxy?" asked Besson.

"She could lead the assault team." Cole shook his head.

"Roxy is amazing at what she does. But she doesn't have the bandwidth to fight and command." Besson scowled. He'd probably known that even before he'd suggested it. The man had spent more time fighting shoulder to shoulder with Roxy than anyone else in the squad. Even if reluctant to do so, Cole knew Besson had the capacity to lead. Besson choked off the air to the grill to let the coals die down.

Loading their arms up with plates and cutlery, Cole and the others made their way back to the fire to distribute the good stuff. Met with hungry grins and open hands, Cole wasn't sure who was more ravenous: his fellow Kickers for steaks, or his ravenous rifle for ordnance. As he sat down, he cleared his throat.

"Wayland," he said.

"I've talked it over with my team. We want to offer you a position with us, if you're interested. You should know, it'll be tough as hell. We're forward recon and front-line. We see a lot of combat." Wayland paused, fork halfway to his mouth. He looked between Cole and Morganstern.

"Wait, for real?"

"Did you think I was joking?" asked Cole, eyebrow raised. Wayland lowered his fork back to his plate.

"That'd be great. But I'm only enhancement level 9. Won't I just slow y'all down?"

"You'll catch up quick," said Morganstern.

"He's not kidding when he says they see a lot of combat. Getting a bit of a rep in the Department for it, actually." She chuckled.

"But more combat means more levels, more loot, more rewards Earth-side. You could do a lot worse than Airborne. You could do a lot safer than Airborne, too, if that's what you're after." Wayland considered.

"I didn't join DOR cause I wanted a soft life," he said.

"I joined cause when I was taken, someone came and got me. I gotta pay that forward, you know?"

"Hell yeah, I know," chimed Roxy. Most of the people around the campfire muttered their agreement. It was a common story, in the Department. The standard way of a Kicker finding out they were attuned was getting taken off-world. Some were found in screenings or through siblings. But most Kickers were victims themselves looking to continue the critical cycle of rescue and repatriation. Even with the inherent danger, leaving people—kids, usually—to their fate in strange other worlds was unthinkable.

Wayland looked around the circle, then back at Cole.

"I saw your character on Curahee," he said.

"Saw what you were willing to do for us tryouts. If you'll have me, I'll try my best to do right by everyone." He grinned sheepishly.

"Even if I can't quite keep up at the outset." Howie slapped Wayland on the back of the shoulder and Roxy reached across to knuckle him in the arm with a grin. Cole extended his hand across the circle to seal the deal.

"Welcome to the team, Jack Links," he said. Alexa whoo'd from her place by the porch, and everyone else raised their beers.

"To Jack Links!" said Howie.

"To Team Black Sheep!" said Morganstern.

"To steaks!" said Roxy.

"Let's fuckin' eat!"