[Location: Barracks 404 - "The Kennel"] [Time: 21:00 Hours. 9 Hours before Drop.]
The barracks smelled like recycled farts, cheap synthetic tobacco, and the metallic tang of gun oil. It was the smell of men waiting to die.
I sat on the edge of my bunk, staring at my right hand. The Ouroboros was quiet for once, just a dull, throbbing ache where the metal fused into my shoulder bone. It was itching deep inside the marrow. It always itched before a slaughter.
"Read 'em and weep, you ugly bastards!"
A massive fist slammed onto the ammo crate in the center of the room.
Jax. The heavy gunner. A mountain of muscle and bad decisions, with a cybernetic jaw that clicked when he chewed.
"Full House! Queens over Nines!" Jax roared, sweeping a pile of nutrient bars and crumpled credits toward his chest. "That's my pot! Miller, hand over your dessert rations. Don't make me come over there."
"Fuck you, Jax," Miller whined. The kid was nineteen, scrawny, with eyes that looked like a kicked puppy's. He threw a packet of freeze-dried chocolate at Jax. "You're cheating. I know you are. You're scanning the deck with that robotic eye."
"It's not cheating, it's tactical superiority, you little shit," Jax grinned, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. He looked over his shoulder at me.
"Yo, Spooky! Quit staring at the wall like you're planning a murder-suicide. Get your ass over here."
I didn't move.
In Life #3,402, I played cards with them. We laughed. I learned about Miller's girlfriend back on Colony 6. In Life #3,402, Miller stepped on a Bouncing Betty mine six hours later. I spent three hours picking pieces of his girlfriend's photo out of the mud.
"I'm good," I said, my voice rasping.
"Oh, come on," Elara spoke up. She was leaning against a locker, sharpening a combat knife. She had short, choppy red hair and eyes that looked like they'd seen God and were unimpressed. "Leave the man alone, Jax. He thinks he's too good for the 'Mongrels'."
"It's not that," I muttered.
"Then what is it?" Elara challenged, pointing the knife at me. "You walked in here two days ago, took the Squad Leader badge, and haven't said ten words to us that weren't orders. If you're gonna lead us into hell tomorrow, the least you can do is learn our names."
I looked at them.
I know your names, I thought. I know how you scream when you burn. I know the exact pitch of your voice when you beg for your mother, Elara.
But looking at Miller's shaking hands, I realized something. They were terrified. They needed a leader, not a ghost.
I stood up and walked to the crate.
"Deal me in," I said. "But if I win, Jax, you're carrying my extra ammo pack."
"Deal!" Jax laughed, shuffling the grease-stained cards.
We played for two hours. The tension in the room started to bleed away, replaced by crude jokes and the sound of chips hitting the crate.
"So," Jax said, leaning back and lighting a cigar that smelled like burning tires. "If we make it back from Shadow Creek... you guys are coming to my sister's place."
Elara groaned. "Here we go. The Sister Speech."
"Shut up, Red," Jax pointed a sausage-thick finger at her. "My sister lives in Sector 5. She makes this synth-pie. Real apples. Not the paste shit. She puts cinnamon in it. I swear to god, you take one bite, and you'll slap your own mother."
Jax looked at me, his eyes shining with genuine warmth.
"She's single too, Boss. Likes the broody, scarred-up types. You bring her back her baby brother in one piece, and she might just let you stay for breakfast, if you catch my drift."
The room erupted in laughter. Miller turned bright red.
I felt a cold knot in my stomach.
Sector 5. I knew Sector 5. In three weeks, the Enemy launches an orbital bombardment. Sector 5 is Ground Zero. Jax's sister is already dead; the clock just hasn't struck midnight yet.
I looked at Jax's smiling face. He loved her so much. It was the only thing keeping him human in this war.
"Sure, Jax," I lied, forcing a smile that felt like cracking glass. "I'll try the pie."
"That's the spirit!" Jax poured me a cup of contraband moonshine.
"I fold," Elara said suddenly. She locked eyes with me.
She wasn't smiling. She was studying me.
"You're holding a straight flush, aren't you, Sarge?" she whispered.
I looked at my cards. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 of Spades.
"How did you know?" Miller gasped.
"Because he's not playing poker," Elara said, taking a drag of her cigarette. "He's looking at us like he's at a wake. You've been to Shadow Creek before, haven't you, Caelum?"
The room went silent.
I threw the cards down.
"Get some sleep," I stood up abruptly, grabbing my rifle. "Wheels up at 0600. Don't be late."
I walked out into the hallway. I leaned against the cold metal wall and closed my eyes, listening to Jax laughing inside.
Don't make friends with the dead, Caelum. It only hurts more when you have to bury them.