Uncommon Loyalty Read online

  “Yeah, you ever play baseball, Private Gracie?” Master Sergeant Cane asked. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

  “Roger that,” Ty said.

  The master sergeant’s meaning was clear, and none of them wanted to fail. Their first mission had been harrowing, but it had also been thrilling. They were all pleasantly surprised that service in the PMC was living up to the promises made by the recruiting flyers.

  They did individual emergency maneuvers and then worked on group maneuvers. Nothing about the work was difficult if you could keep from thinking about the possibility of being lost forever, drifting through space. Nick knew he was tethered to the space station, but there were still times when his fear threatened to overwhelm him.

  When Master Sergeant Cane called an end to their training for the day, Nick had half an hour of atmo left in his tanks. They rallied at the emergency nook just beside the airlock and removed their air tanks.

  “Will someone come out and refill these?” Ember asked.

  “The tanks are accessible from inside the station,” Gunny Tveit said.

  “PMC regulations require all vessels, stations, docks, and commercial exchanges to have emergency supplies in clearly marked sections. The Proxy won’t wait more than a few minutes to pull these tanks and replace them,” Master Sergeant Cane said. “No matter what you’ve heard, the Proxy are sticklers for safety. They may not care if you live or die, but it won’t be from negligence of the safety protocols.”

  Nick’s armor refilled its air supply automatically from the emergency tanks, so there was no concern of running out of air, but Nick was still ready to feel gravity once again. He wanted to move under his own power, not simply drift from whatever force acted on his body.

  They used the magnets in their armor to walk on the outside of the Foundry’s hull. Once they were all safely inside the airlock, Gunny Tveit hit the activation switch, which flooded the chamber with breathable air. Once the airlock equalized with the air pressure inside the Foundry, the doors opened, and they all filed out, removing their helmets in the process.

  “Get out of that armor and have the techs recalibrate everything,” Cane ordered. “Tomorrow we will begin learning to operate your armor’s orbital features.”

  He turned and left the team standing in the hallway. Kal smiled.

  “I guess that’s it for today,” he proclaimed. “I could use a nap.”

  “Guess again, Private,” Gunny Tveit said. “Once we turn over our armor, you’ll have twenty minutes for lunch, then we continue hand-to-hand and close combat training.”

  “Oh man,” Kal complained.

  “Get over it,” Jules said. “You weren’t really going to take a nap.”

  “I might have,” Kal argued.

  “We slept on the ride back from the Quazak system,” Ty said. “I wouldn’t mind kicking your butt for a while today.”

  They laughed and teased each other as they wound through the Foundry’s long corridors. Most of the station was off limits to PMC personnel. The Foundry was first and foremost a refinery for a wide range of elements that the Proxy gathered in their travels among the systems of the Milky Way. Those elements and metals were used for products from spaceships to pharmaceuticals, and the Proxy guarded their intellectual property very closely. The Foundry also served as the home of the PMC’s vaunted Dragon Teams. Each team had their own barracks and dedicated armor technicians. Delphi’s three worlds and immediate orbits served as a training ground for the Deep Recon specialists.

  Nick and his friends let the Proxy technicians help them remove their armor. Normally they could do the job themselves, but the hard vacuum additions made the suits bulky and difficult to manage. Once the hard vacuum settings were activated, the suits locked many of the armor’s joints so that each specialist could only move their bodies in certain ways. There was no give in the waist or hips, and their arms would only move in a small range of their normal capacity.

  Once the armor was removed, the team hit the showers. They had just enough time to throw on the black and gray fatigues that covered their biological insulated outerwear or BIO-suits and stop at the mess hall for an energy-boosting protein shake, which they gulped down before hustling to the gym.

  “Hey, we’re not alone anymore?” Jules declared as they walked into the gym.

  The room was big enough for a large tumble area complete with mats. There were some cardio machines as well, but not the full range of strength training devices they had used during their first week of intake training. Most of the exercise equipment was designed to use their body weight. There were individual mats for push-ups, sit-ups, and stretching exercises. Along one wall were a variety of pull-up bars at various heights. The main part of the room was reserved for close combat training.

  “Can that chatter, Private,” Gunny Tveit ordered Jules. “Line up along the mat. Let’s move.”

  The other people, six in total, all wearing the same BIO-suits with fatigues, moved to the far side of the mat. Nick felt a very hostile vibe from the people standing across from him.

  “Dragon Team Seven,” Tveit said. “This is Dragon Team Thirteen. They will be training with us today.”

  “Hey!” the NCO on the far side of the mat shouted. “There’s only one Dragon Team here. Thirteen’s the dream. All I see across the way is a bunch of wannabes barely off the rock.”

  “Keep your mouth in check, Staff Sergeant,” Tveit said in a commanding voice. “And send out your first fighter.”

  “Hey, Gunny,” Kal said. “What’s going on?”

  “Hand-to-hand training,” Tveit said. “There’s no better way to train than in actual combat.”

  “What are the rules?” Ember asked.

  “No rules,” Tveit said. “Submit your opponent. They will show you no mercy, so don’t show them any in return. Nichols, you’re first.”

  “Alright, Nick. Give ‘em hell,” Kal said.

  Nick felt his gut tighten. He wasn’t the type to back down from a fight, but he didn’t go looking for trouble. Anything could happen in a fight, he had learned that the hard way. Growing up in Seattle was tough, and he had been in enough fights to know what he was doing, but there was little doubt in his mind that the specialists across the mat knew more than he did.

  He stepped out onto the mat and moved toward a man a few inches shorter than he was. The man had broad shoulders thick with muscle and a sneer on his face. Nick thought the man looked to be much older, perhaps even past the century mark.

  “What is this? You on recess, junior?”

  Nick opted not to engage in the verbal sparring. He knew he was in over his head. There was no reason to make his opponent angrier than he needed to be.

  “Too scared to talk?” the older man said with a smirk. “You should be.”

  “Show him what you’re made of, Nick,” Jules called out.

  “An enemy deserves no mercy!” Ty called, quoting one of their favorite classic movies.

  “You can call me Donny when you cry out for help,” the older man said. “You ready for some pain, boy?”

  Nick still didn’t answer. He was on guard, moving slowly to his right. The man named Donny was circling too, but he seemed relaxed, almost as if he wasn’t planning to fight Nick at all. When he suddenly launched himself forward, he nearly caught Nick in a classic two-legged takedown. Fortunately, Nick was expecting an attack, and he pushed Donny’s head down as the shorter man shot in on him. The shouting and cheers all blended into white noise once the fighting started. To Nick, the only thing that mattered in the galaxy was the wily, little man who seemed to move like a wild animal.

  Donny was unstoppable. Nick managed to avoid the first few attempts by his shorter opponent to take him down, but Donny moved from one attempt to the next seamlessly. When he finally brought Nick down, the younger man managed to land on top, but Donny quickly rolled, and their positions were exchanged.

  Nick threw up a leg, trying to hook it over the shorter man’s head, Don
ny slipped under the limb and managed to turn Nick onto his stomach. Donny landed hard on Nick’s back. His thickly muscled arms whipped around like the tentacles of a mythical beast. Nick protected his neck and searched for a way out of danger.

  Donny locked his legs around Nick’s stomach and overwhelmed the younger man with a flurry of movement that eventually ended with Donny’s arm across Nick’s throat. It would have been the end of the match had Nick been on his back, but he was on his stomach. There was no more air, and his lungs were screaming for relief as Nick pushed his way up onto his hands and knees. Donny felt like a monster on his back, but Nick refused to quit. He heaved himself up onto his feet. The mat was soft beneath them, and Nick knew he only had a few seconds left before he passed out from lack of oxygen.

  Staggering forward, Nick’s lurching steps turned to a trot. The spectators were screaming, but Nick didn’t care. He launched himself toward the strip of hard decking just beyond the mat, twisting as he fell. They hit hard and bright sparks shot into Nick’s vision, but Donny’s choke loosened. Nick twisted, acting on instinct, hitting and throwing elbows into Donny’s arms that were held over his face for protection. Nick wasn’t sure if he was seeing blood on his opponent’s face or if he was just so mad that everything looked red.

  The final blow was a perfect elbow strike. Nick rose up and then drove down with all his strength and weight. His elbow slipped between Donny’s arms, and the bone smashed into cartilage with so much force Nick’s entire arm vibrated painfully. Blood spewed like a geyser, and Nick saw Donny’s nose turned at an unnatural angle before rough hands pulled Nick away.

  Chapter 3

  Donny didn’t stay down but came up screaming like a banshee. Blood spewed from his split lips and streamed from his broken nose. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his blood-soaked forehead was furrowed with hatred.

  Two members of Dragon Team Thirteen had pulled Nick away, but Donny wasn’t done with the fight. He came roaring toward Nick, who kicked out, letting whoever held his arms back take his weight. His left foot hit Donny’s chest, and the right foot caught the shorter man’s chin. He had been rushing forward, and his legs flew forward as his body flipped upward. They were back on the mats, and even though Donny landed on his head, he bounced back to his feet quickly and would have attacked again if Ty hadn’t intervened. The big, dark-skinned young man caught Donny around the waist and turned him away from the fight. Both platoons were on the verge of a massive brawl when Gunny Tveit whistled. She had two fingers in her mouth, and the whistle was a loud, high-pitched shriek.

  “Nobody move!” Tveit shouted. “This is over. It’s over.”

  Nick’s struggles ceased, and a second later, the hands holding him let go. He turned to see two men with gray streaks in their short, stubbly hair. Donny was on his knees, and Ty was taking off his fatigue shirt to help sop up the blood on the short man’s face.

  “Gorman, Hicks, get Donny to the medic,” the opposing NCO said.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Nick said.

  “This isn’t over, kid,” Donny shouted.

  “Everyone take a breath,” Tveit said loudly.

  The two men who had pulled Nick away from Donny went to help the bloody man. Nick found Ember and Jules right behind them.

  “You okay?” Ember asked Nick.

  “Yeah,” Nick said, rubbing his neck with one hand. “Everything happened fast.”

  “They didn’t know who the hell they were messing with,” Jules said, slapping Nick on the arm.

  “Next up?” Tveit said.

  “I’ll go,” Kal said, a fire in his eyes.

  “This isn’t a war,” Gunny Tveit said. “Just a sparring match. Keep that in mind, Phillips.”

  “Tell that to lucky thirteen,” Kal said.

  A woman stepped out onto the mat. She had longer hair than anyone Nick had seen in the PMC. It was shaggy around the crown of her head and hung to her ears. She had young, pointed features that looked almost elvish.

  The mat cleared. There were only two people looking on from across the mat, and the elvish woman walking casually toward Kal.

  “Begin!” Tveit said.

  Nick turned to watch Donny walking from the room, followed by his friends. He had Ty’s shirt wadded into a ball and pressed to his nose. The shorter man gave Nick a withering stare before stepping out into the hallway. When Nick turned back to the sparring match, Kal was already on the mat and caught in an arm bar.

  “Damn, that was fast,” Ty said.

  “She used his weight against him,” Jules said as Kal tapped the floor and the elvish woman released him.

  They got back on their feet, and Tveit ordered them to continue the fight. Kal moved in immediately, trying to get his hands on the woman, but she dropped to the mat and threw a leg up between Kal’s knees and drove her foot into his groin.

  “Oh no,” Jules said.

  “I can’t watch,” Ty added.

  Kal yelped, then dropped sideways. The elvish woman got up slowly and walked purposefully back to her side of the mat.

  “Ormond, Nichols, get Phillips off the mat,” Tveit ordered.

  Nick and Ty ran out and helped their friend who was huffing and puffing from the pain.

  “You see that?” Kal groaned as they helped him to his feet.

  Nick had to steady his friend to ensure Kal didn’t fall over again.

  “I did,” Nick said.

  “That’s not fair,” Kal complained.

  “I don’t think she cares about fair,” Ty said with a grin.

  The matches went on. The final opponent from the opposite team was a thick-bodied woman with pale skin, a bald scalp, and bright orange freckles across her nose and cheeks. She and Jules wrestled for nearly five minutes. Jules was athletic and had often faced off against boys from the school wrestling team during their practice. Eventually, the other woman managed to get Jules to submit.

  When it was Ty’s turn, the NCO from the other squad came out to face him. Ty’s long arms and broad shoulders looked massive in the tight-fitting BIO-suit without his fatigue shirt. Ty was limber and agile for a man his size, fast too. The NCO had his hands full but used a series of judo throws to fling Ty to the ground. He wasn’t dumb enough to continue the fight on the mats, but rather bounced away and waited for Ty to get back up.

  Ember fought the elvish woman, who hadn’t even broken a sweat against Kal. Ember was evasive and made the other woman come after her. For a few minutes, it looked as though Ember had a chance, but once the other woman finally closed on Ember, the fight ended quickly. Ember went down hard, and the elvish woman twisted her foot hard in an ankle lock that caused Ember to tap out.

  They continued sparring, everyone taking turns. Dragon Team Thirteen was much more experienced, but Nick and his friends had youthful optimism. Gunny Tveit spoke quietly as she helped them identify weaknesses to exploit. Eventually, the younger team began to win some matches. When the two men returned without Donny, Nick felt a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to hurt the man; he was just fighting back. Donny’s overwhelming assault had left him desperate to turn the tables, and perhaps he had taken things a bit too far, but no one from the other team held it against him. When he sparred, they were determined but not ruthless or vindictive.

  When Tveit finally called a halt to the matches, Nick was exhausted. Everyone was sweating and tired; most had bruises. The other team left the gym without a word as Gunny Tveit sat her team down.

  “What did we learn today?” she asked.

  “Not to trust Team Thirteen?” Kal suggested.

  “That Nick better keep his eyes open around that Donny character,” Jules added.

  “Get serious, people,” Tveit said. “What did you learn?”

  “Not to overestimate an opponent,” Ember said.

  “Precisely,” Tveit said. “They had more experience, but that didn’t make them better than you. Trust the training and keep practicing.”

  “Yes, Ser
geant,” they all said together.

  “I don’t want to hear about fighting outside of this room,” Tveit went on. “Team Thirteen is an older unit. They’ve seen a lot, but they’re close to the end of their enlistment period. They don’t have a lot to lose, but you do, so watch yourselves.”

  “Roger that,” Ty said.

  “You did good, all of you,” Tveit said. “Most sparring sessions are too light. It’s good to remember that outside this station any fight you find yourself in is most likely a life or death struggle. You can’t hold back in times like that.”

  “You don’t have to tell Nick,” Kal said with a chuckle. “He doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “He never gave up,” Nick said.

  “His face did,” Jules said. “But don’t worry, it was an improvement.”

  “Hurting your opponent isn’t the goal,” Gunny Tveit warned them. “But we don’t shy away from it either. We’re warriors, and if you find yourself in a conflict, you should do your utmost to win at all costs. Now go eat a real meal. You’ve got time to digest it while you sleep. And I want someone on watch tonight. I don’t trust those bastards from Team Thirteen.”

  “I heard that,” Jules said.

  “Food that we can actually chew,” Kal said. “I hope my teeth still work.”

  They left the gym, and Nick chose to shower before going to dinner. He was tired, and there was blood on his fatigues. He rinsed off the sweat and put on fresh clothes before joining his friends in the mess hall.

  Kal was eating a thick pork chop, and the others all had full plates of spaghetti. Nick opted for the last, complete with beef meatballs and thick slabs of garlic bread. He sat down and forked a wad of pasta into his mouth.

  Talk was light, and everyone seemed ready to head back to their bunks when the elvish-looking woman appeared. She had blonde hair and a thin frame much like Ember’s. She had a tray of food and was clearly about to start her meal.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Nick said, scooting a little closer to Ember. “How’s Donny?”

  “He’ll be fine,” the woman said. “A night in the med bay and he’ll be as mean as ever. That was a good fight, by the way.”