Chapter 35 – Squire Sophie

  “I’ve already got a ticket booked for Georgia to pick up your truck and drive it back to Fredericksburg. For the meantime, I’ve secured you a rental vehicle. Do you have an idea of whether you’d prefer to live on the compound or out in town? And if so, house or apartment?”

  One other perk of passing through the crucible of Curahee was also the assignment of an assistant to each Kicker. Apparently the LF residue split used to be a fifteen-eighty-five split, but several high-level kickers had negotiated five percent to cover the assignment of PA’s, or squires, as they called them. Each squire handled the day-to-day needs of Kickers so they could focus on otherworld assignments. They were the ones responsible for inventorying all their gear and measuring collected LF residue. Cole’s squire was a college grad in her mid twenties named Sophie, who was currently taking notes on his billet’s kitchen counter. She might have been his first squire, but he was her third Kicker, and he was grateful to have someone so experienced.

  “I haven’t given it much thought, yet,” said Cole. Hell, he was still supposed to be deployed for another five months. Yet, here he was still somewhat shell-shocked from just coming back to Earth and looking through the monolithic SOP, which weren’t actually allowed to leave Lewis Hall for security reasons. It would take days to process it all, but he did know that he didn’t want to be living on post. “House, definitely. And if you could get my guns from my granddad’s place.”

  “Absolutely,” said Sophie. “You have on-post range time for otherworld armaments and any armaments you source. You also have time blocks twice a week with the arms master for melee weapon training, but those are flexible.” Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it. It had done so several times during their conversation.

  “Someone’s popular,” Cole joked.

  Sophia smirked. “Yeah, you. Four requests have already come in to make sure they’re on whatever team you’re on. And multiple mission requests from mid-level Kickers wanting field support for extractions. You must have made quite the impression during the tryout. I highly recommend you take the position, as well as cut your teeth on a few support roles in missions under experienced Kickers. Team leads also get an additional five percent bounty on LF Residue.”

  “Wasn’t my intent, but I won’t say no to an early promotion,” said Cole. “Crawl, walk, run on the missions. We’ll ride shotgun.” His curiosity was piqued. “The ones who reached out. Roxy and Howie obviously. I’m guessing Ken and Han were the other two?”

  “Not quite. Roxanne Doukas and Howard Hoyle, yes. But the others were David Besson, and someone named Nona Keeton.” Sophie pursed her lips. “Was she part of your tryout? I’m afraid I don’t know her.”

  “Neither do I,” he said, somewhat startled. “She was there in Curahee, but I never saw her the entire time until she showed up five minutes after the portal home opened.” He scratched his head. “Besson… that surprises me. The guy basically told me to my face he wasn’t planning on joining a team and didn’t want anything to do with me. Hmm. Definitely yes to Roxy and Howie. I want to talk to Besson and Nona before I say yes.”

  His squire nodded. “I’ll coordinate with their squires. I’ve also got your armory badge here that will let you through the secured door to the weapons locker and the LF lab. Mr. Jefferson is expecting you this afternoon.”

  Cole took the badge and drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot,” said Sophie.

  “How’d you get into all this, anyway?”

  She smiled. “Recruiter reached out on the fantasy novel forum looking for go-getters with a four-year communications degree, no criminal history, and a mountain of discretion. Our brains were apparently already primed to rationalize the existence of other worlds because we already spent so much time imagining we were in one. Also, if you want any recommendations, I’ve got a ton.”

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  “I may take you up on that,” said Cole. “For, you know, research.”

  His new assistant laughed. “Speaking of research, here’s your login card for the research computer lab in Lewis Hall. You can use it to access Termlink, which is the AI data-core that syncs the LF analyzers. Anything any of the pads have ever touched goes in there for Kickers to cross-reference. Any piece of loot that was ever scanned, any enemy, every ability or spell. Even Kicker stats and profiles, if they opt into sharing it. Plus field reports, ongoing efforts, and classified email. If you’re going to be a team leader, you’re going to be spending a lot of time in there.”

  Cole sighed. “More windowless boxes. Joy.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve made your own bed on that one,” she said. Zero sympathy. She started to collect up her things. “My desk is in Lewis Hall, but you can always reach me by phone.” Sophie extended her hand for Cole to shake. “I’ll forward you the extraction support request. Should I also go ahead and register you as a new team lead for future assignments?”

  Cole turned his palms up and shrugged. “Why the hell not?”

  “Will do. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Colton.”

  “Just Cole is fine,” said Cole.

  Sophie made no move to correct herself. She simply adjusted her glasses, smoothed her skirt, and let herself out of the billet.

  Cole sighed. Team lead. Couldn’t be much harder than being a sergeant at twenty-two. He just had to keep a couple super-human knuckleheads in line in dangerous other worlds. He clipped his new badges onto his lanyard and opened the parcel paper package that Sophie had brought with his new Kicker uniform. It was a set of high-quality fatigues with cuts and lines that gave it just a vaguely medieval feeling. It was thicker than his Army issue—possibly kevlar weave in spots for added protection against blades and claws.

  This was so different from the Army. There, he’d just been a grunt with a rifle—one of thousands in the Army. Not someone who warranted special procedures around his rare abilities or the assignment of a full-time personal assistant.

  He’d barely finished trying on the new uniform when someone pounded on his door—Roxy, ready for lunch, where his attendance was apparently mandatory. Definitely needed a house out in town. Not that Roxy was unpleasant company. Having a knockout figure, both literally and metaphorically, didn’t hurt either. Hell, he’d like to take her out on a date if her idea of one wasn’t going to be spotting her in the squat rack for a midnight gym session. But having anyone perpetually just a knock away was a bit much. This wasn’t a deployment. There had to be a buffer.

  After watching the woman put down a frankly astounding amount of food (though where she hid it, Cole hadn’t the foggiest idea), they split, and Cole headed for the armory. His primary base access badge let him through the front door, while his secondary badge let him open up the inside area where his gear was kept while not on mission. Jefferson looked up and smiled wide upon seeing him.

  “Cole! Welcome back! I hear you’re going to be spending a lot of time in here with me.”

  “That’s right. My subclass is apparently something Bricker was looking for for a while.”

  Jeff huffed a laugh. “That’s a bit of an understatement. The potential to get an Arquebus Engineer was how Director Bricker sold having an off-world live-fire training camp to the bean counters. Being able to mix and match otherworld traits onto firearms to specialize for missions and recycle outdated or broken-down weapons is going to make you very attractive to the senior Kickers who need multiple dedicated gear-sets for different high risk index worlds. Plus, it’ll make you and your team much more versatile on-mission.” He rubbed his hands together. “But enough foreplay. Come with me. I’ll show you the lab where you’ll be working and introduce you to the twins.”

  Jeff led Cole back through a second set of doors to a secured staircase and pointed to the pad. “Make sure it works on that one, too.”

  Cole swiped, and Jeff pulled open the door to admit them both. The temperature dropped sharply, and Cole shivered in the sudden chill. The stairs spiraled down to a basement level where another security door opened to a room that smelled of gun oil and hot metal. Workbenches lined the walls, and there was a set of tables in the center where a pair of stocky, bearded figures worked. One was adding a modern Earth scope and silencer to an otherworld armament that looked like a mid-century self-loading rifle. The other was turning out rounds on a lathe. As Cole crossed the threshold, he felt a buzz, and his LF enhancements came flooding back.

  “The lab’s got a Lewis Field?” he asked.

  “Oh, aye. Needs one for the twins to work. Norn, Bjorn, come over here a second.”

  The two figures looked up and then dropped behind the workbench. A moment later, they both rounded the corner and waddled over—each of them no larger than a meter tall.

  “Uh…” said Cole. “Hi.”

  “Were that a short joke?” asked one of them.

  “It were a greeting, blisternuts,” said the other. The second one thumbed his broad chest. “I’m Norn. This sack of stacked shit is Bjorn.”

  Cole turned to Jefferson. “They’re…”

  “Otherworld refugees,” said Jefferson.