Militant training demanded emotional suppression. For Costain, that discipline held until a subordinate called his father corrupt.
The word was a spark like an ignited fuel.
His Kinetic Side Arm was in his hand, aimed at the man's face. He was already a rogue; one more crime meant nothing.
Sergeant Tom moved faster. A sharp knee-kick to Costain's wrist. The gun clattered to the ground. Tom snatched it up.
"Stand down, Costain," he growled, pulling his commander back, down the stairs, away from the stunned crowd.
Costain's rage cooled, replaced by a cold clarity. Tom was the strategist. He waited for scoldings.
Tom just stared, his expression grim.
"What is it?" Costain asked.
"You have only twenty-five militants," Tom said, his voice low. "It's not enough. To face Bryce, you need an army."
"Do you have a suggestion?"
"Yes. Let me stay. I'll lead the barracks. Your prediction will come true; their respect for us will erode. When it does, when they feel the noose tightening, they will join you. I will make sure of it."
Costain searched his friend's face. "You never liked my father, Tom. He was harsh. Wicked, even, with his students. If you don't want to avenge his death, just stay. No need for the speech. No one is forced to follow me."
"Your father's strictness is why I'm still alive," Tom countered, his gaze unwavering. "It's why I climbed the ranks so easily. I want vengeance. But going against a man who can disintegrate you with a touch isn't a raid. It's a war. We need numbers. Let me build you that army."
Costain held his gaze, then gave a single, sharp nod. "Keep the line open. I'll contact you" He checked his B-Wax. "I'm out of time."
"You need to apologize. And tell them I'm in charge."
Costain returned to the podium. The roof was silent, watching.
"Jake. I apologize. We have fought side-by-side. My anger… got the better of me." He looked over the sea of faces. "You have families. Careers. I understand your choice." He gestured for Tom to join him. "When I am gone, you will vote for a new leader. I nominate Tom. He is the only one who can protect you from what is coming. This is not a goodbye, I hope to see you guys again."
He shook hands with all the Militants, a final, grim ceremony. He embraced Tom, a silent transfer of command.
Then he descended, his twenty-five Militants falling in behind him. They loaded into three military Rovers and drove.
An hour later, they arrived at the West Ford Green Zone. The air was thick with red dust.
A figure waited under a crumbling archway. A young man, tall and slim, with a cascade of fiery red hair. He wore a nasal helmet, insulated against the storms. He was sitting, head resting on his hands, as if asleep.
Costain's Rover halted. The others screeched to a stop behind him.
He activated the comms. "Everyone out. Weapons ready. Advance on foot. This isn't our contact, I have no idea who he is."
They fanned out, rifles raised.
The young man's eyes opened. He yawned, utterly unfazed by the weaponry. "You're late. Three hours after claiming you will be here in two-hours."
"Where is Peter?" Costain demanded.
"He doesn't do public meetings." The youth didn't stand. "You're Costain, right? The General's son. Call him. He won't answer, but he'll text."
Costain sent the mental command. His B-Wax pinged instantly with Peter's reply: He is your guide. Follow him.
"Lower your weapons," Costain ordered.
The young man stood and blinked, his B-Wax activating with a thought.
From the thick, violent red fog that marked the Green Zone border, a vehicle emerged.
It was unlike any Rover they had ever seen. Its hull was sheathed in a pulsating, green exo-material that seemed to breathe. It moved with an unnatural silence.
Costain and his men stumbled back. Nothing survived in the Red Zones. The spaghettification effect from the micro-black holes shredded matter.
The vehicle stopped with a screech blowing up the red crusts nearby. Its boot slid open, revealing stacks of metallic briefcases.
"The suits inside will protect you," the youth said. "Our base is in a stabilized zone within the Red Zone."
"That's impossible," Costain breathed. He wasn't just referring to the wonders that Thomas just performed but he was replying to the thoughts in his head.
The Screech from the Car blew up the nearby crust revealing a circular hidden grid of metal plates underneath.
"What is that? Is that a Silo?" Thomas voice pulled him out of his curiosity.
"It is not impossible. The suits make it possible. Let me prove it" The youth replied thinking Costain was speaking to him. He opened a case and donned the gear with practiced efficiency. "Don't put yours on yet." He turned and walked into the deadly fog.
"He's insane," one of the militants muttered.
Twenty minutes later, the red haze parted. The youth emerged, his suit untouched.
"I waited, to remove all doubt." He removed his helmet and walked to the Rover's bonnet. A compartment opened after a retinal scan, presenting a detection wand and a compact, high-voltage taser.
"Standard procedure," he said with a disarming smile. "I need to sweep for trackers. Cameras. Listening devices. And neutralize any threats."
"What's with the taser?" Costain asked. Behind him, his men tightened their grips on their weapons.
"If I find a transmitter," the youth explained, his tone casual, "I tase the carrier. They will wake up in custody. So if anyone has anything to declare, now is the time."
Costain stared at the militants. He trusted his core squad, but the others… they can easily betray him to the Five Eyes. He gave a sharp nod. "Let's start."
"You guys should go ahead," he said, pointing to the volunteers from the barracks.
He and his squad sat on the slabs, their attention fixed on their colleagues. None of them noticed the several tiny, dormant red lights embedded in the hems of their stolen Cadet uniforms at the shoulders, chest, and knees.
The sweep was quick and efficient. The wand passed over the volunteers. Silent and dark.
Clean.
"Your turn," the youth said.
Costain stood and stepped forward, his Cadet uniform shining as red as the environment. The hidden lights were dormant, their dim glow concealed by the fabric. He stood straight, ready for the scan.
The Youth started from his legs, he swiped the wand over his toes, then moved upwards towards the knee.
Beep!Beep!Beep!
A blaring noise erupted as the wand passed through the knees.
Tension filled the air.