Chapter 4 The Jungle

The next couple of weeks, unfortunately, did not pass in a blur. When Corporal Djemai found out that their little gang had been out boozing their first night, she was disappointed - to put it mildly. “The Zamaii Border Patrol should be a model for the rest of the town, a representative of Agurtan heroism - not a bunch of lecherous drunks!” She had scolded them roundly. Bob sat to one side and shook his head ruefully - he couldn’t save them from themselves. As a punishment for their transgressions, the corporal devised a special training regimen for them to stay in shape when they weren’t being sent out on patrol. Every morning she led them on a run up Hammersmith Hill, the tallest hill just outside of the city. There they would stretch and exercise before heading back to the barracks for lunch, a quick rest, and then combat drills overseen by Bob. The old veteran, after seeing how they had reacted to the ambush, was determined to whip them into shape. From Damien, Petar, and Schertling’s point of view, the old man seemed to have a vicious sadistic streak. All afternoon in the dry heat of the barrack’s yard, they would engage in target practice, or close quarters combat, or - worst of all - Bob would have them set up a training course of obstacles and pitfalls for them to navigate over and over again, before finally, as the sun was going down, having them dismantle it and return the yard to its previous condition. Each evening they collapsed into bed from utter exhaustion - when Bob, that is, didn’t have nighttime drills for them to work through. Grueling didn’t even begin to describe it. 

In light of their behavior, Corporal Djemai gave them only one day off - Sunday. They had balked, but she had nodded firmly. “Until such a time as myself and Bob,” - the older man had become her second in command - “agree that you are able to conduct yourselves responsibly as soldiers of Agurts.” Nevertheless, each Sunday without fail they would head to Harper’s in the evening, although never quite with the same intensity - they needed the time to recover their bodies, rather than get wildly drunk. Damien never had the nerve to get drunk again anyway. He discovered - upon returning to the bar - that he had invited the wrong woman to spend the evening with him. There was, in fact, more than one blonde waitress. He had wanted to invite the one named Emma, but had ended up with Sarah. What was worse - he couldn’t even remember if he had slept with Sarah or not: the night was something of a blur. And to add to his embarrassment, the two appeared to be friends, and could frequently be seen chatting. So Damien did his best to avoid making more of a fool of himself, and instead tried to set things right - by getting to know them more casually, as friends. He would ask them how they were and what they were up to. Sarah would chat mostly about bar gossip, but Emma always asked him questions about his training and deployment. He liked to talk with her. She was smart, and kind, and beautiful as the day he had met her, and he felt himself slowly rebuilding his self-confidence. She seemed interested in what he had to say, after all. 

This state of affairs continued until one day, when they had just returned from their run up Hammersmith Hill, and the barracks was a hive of activity. Sergeant Han could be seen directing a group of officers, and waved them over when he saw them approach. “We’ve got a convoy coming in from Niah - some wounded troops, some intel over Omangan operations in the gray zone, some resources. We’re going to provide support in escorting them back here. Get yourselves ready.” They saluted and headed back to their room, where they quickly changed out of their sweaty gear. As Damien stripped down, he observed his own body, as well as Petar and Schertling’s. The training had certainly done some work: all of them were packing quite a bit more muscle than when they had arrived. He caught Petar’s glance, and the young man flexed for him, wiggling his eyebrows comedically. “It’s been a real pain in the ass, but you can’t say there haven’t been certain benefits.” Damien agreed. He had never felt stronger. Schertling began to pull on his boots. “Niah - how close is that?” 

Petar squinted as he thought it over. “A few hours drive to get to the edge of it. A lot of that gray zone is forest. The deeper you go the wilder it gets. Near the Omangan border they call it the Chica Jungle.” 

Schertling and Damien looked at him in surprise. Petar raised his arms in protest. “I’m not a total idiot you know, I took classes at one of the best academies in Sonceto!” 

“Well, academy boy,” Schertling finished lacing his boots. “Who’s stationed there?” 

“Ummm...let me think...oh yeah! The K6 Jungle Team leads operations. They get support from the Glaucus Infiltrators when they need it.” 

“Glaucus Infiltrators?”

“Yeah, a special team from the 303rd Marines.” 

Damien furrowed his brow in thought. “That sounds like a lot of troops posted over there. Why? We’re not at war with Omanga.” 

Petar rolled his eyes. “Well not technically, but do you read the news at all? Under the old emperor they were peaceful enough but this new guy - Oleksandr III - he’s the spitting image of his grandpa. Wants to finish what the old man started and conquer the rest of us.” 

Schertling shivered. “No thank you.” 

They were in their truck, driving over to meet up with the Niah convoy. As they rolled through the desolate countryside, an atmosphere of quiet tension descended upon them. Would someone die on this mission? The dreaded thought lingered in the air between them, an unspoken fear, and a memory of Alex. The only one who seemed unaffected was Bob. After an uncertain amount of time had passed, the old man spoke. “Schertling, you’ve been through a gray zone before, right?” 

Schertling nodded. “The Bayarian. I was very young. I don’t remember much.” 

“Anyone else?” Bob asked. No one responded. Then, Corporal Djemai slowly raised her hand. “The Anatolia Gray Zone. To the southeast.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Indeed it is. Remember it?”

Djemai pulled her lips into a thin line. “Yes. They are not memories I like to revisit.” 

Bob waited a moment for her to continue. When she did not, he took up once again. “...Indeed. Well, I have some experience traveling around gray zones. I’ve only touched the edges of the Anatolia, but I’ve been through the Estancian, Vlachia, and Niah Gray Zones extensively. Let me give you some tips for handling yourself.” 

He began by pulling his mask out from the bag beneath his seat. “Now this here is an LTP Gas Mask, military-grade. They’re tough and light and worth their weight in gold - when you’re in a gray zone, keep it on if you’re in the wilds. If you’re around zoners, however, it can be best to take it off. This thing marks you clear as day as a soldier, or at least a retired soldier. And in some parts, you don’t want that kind of attention.” 

He put the mask away. “So if you get separated from the army, or somehow stuck behind enemy lines in a gray zone, consider switching out your LTP for something else. Any mask will do, but you’ll need one if you’re going to spend a lot of time here.” 

He took a deep breath, as if in memory of the dank air of the past. “The air in the gray zones is...heavier than the air you’re used to. Fine for short periods, but the longer you spend here, the heavier it weighs on you. You’ll carry that weight for the rest of your life, so be careful, be prepared.” 

They looked at each other. They knew that life outside of Agurts could be tough, everyone knew it, but to know was one thing - to experience it, something else. 

“Now the air is the most dangerous thing in the zones, but that’s because it’s the easiest thing to forget about. But there are other things in the zones that you need to be aware of: much more immediate threats.” 

He outlined some shapes in the air with his hands as he spoke. “Niah, for instance, especially up near the Omangan border, has become a kind of primordial jungle. There’re...creatures that have evolved - or are evolving - to fit this new environment. I’ve seen these large jungle cats with sharp horns: one of them took down an SA before we finally chased it off. That’s how big it was.” 

Petar whistled. “That’s pretty damn big.” 

“It is indeed, son, and let me tell you, it scared the shit out of us. And that was a few years ago: who knows what’s out there these days.” 

Damien asked: “If there are a bunch of monsters like that out there, why are Omanga and Agurts there? Why is anyone there? Leave it to them.” 

“Well, there are some resources there, valuable resources...or so I’ve heard. And of course, we wouldn’t want to let our guard down and have the empire come marching straight for us. If they moved in strength through Niah and we didn’t have anyone there watching, why, they could be in Zamaii in a day or two. So we’ve got to be careful.” 

Djemai nodded sagely in agreement. “Can’t be careful enough these days with that new Abaddon Army.” 

Bob frowned. “Right. But I don’t want to give the impression Niah is all bad. There are some small groups of zoners who find a way to make life work out here. And it’s not all jungle and forest either. There’s some volcanic activity in some parts.” 

Petar put his arms behind his head. “Volcanoes, giant cat monsters, Omangans…,” he winked at Damien. “What are we waiting for?” 

They lapsed into silence as the land grew flatter and trees started to shade their approach. To Petar, Schertling, and Djemai, the trees looked normal enough. But to Damien’s experienced eye, something was off. At first he couldn’t put his finger on it. Then he started to look closer. The texture of the leaves was...off. The leaves - flat and green - weren’t smooth like back home, but kind of...bristled. The bark as well was odd. It looked less segmented, smoother to the touch. Seeing it made him feel strange. It just didn’t seem right. 

“Masks on,” Djemai ordered. They strapped on their LTP masks. Inside of his mask, the sounds of the world outside became slightly muffled, more removed. Damien looked around at the others. He thought they looked like a troop of aliens. Schertling gave him a thumbs up. “You good?”

Damien responded with a thumbs up of his own. “Yeah.” 

“Good! We should be arriving at the rendezvous point soon. Once we get out, keep your eyes and ears open for any sign of trouble. We don’t anticipate anything, but in the zones, you never know what could happen. Stay on guard, and look out for the Niah troops. They’ll be coming in on foot.” 

A few minutes later and they arrived. They jumped out of the truck, eager for a chance to stretch their legs as much as anything else, but clutching onto their rifles nervously. They were standing on a wide dirt road surrounded by forest. Damien could hear his breathing in his mask coming just ever so slightly faster than normal. He scanned the dank undergrowth for some sign of one of those giant monster cats. But nothing appeared forthcoming. Bob appeared next to him. 

“You know I told you all those things to prepare you, but nine times out of ten there’s nothing much to see.” 

Damien loosened up a little. “Really?” 

“Yeah, it’s not that bad. Especially those big cats, they wouldn’t hit a big group like ours. Not worth the risk.” He paused and tilted his mask. “I think...I hear something coming.” He started to walk towards the front of their line of trucks, Damien and the others quickly following. Sure enough, as they got closer to the front they could see there was some sort of commotion. Corporal Djemai quickly moved in front of Bob, who duly gave way to her. It looked like the ones they were to be escorting had arrived. Unlike them, these soldiers had no trucks. They were coming through the trees from the right side of the road on foot in camouflage gear, each of the troops carrying an enormous backpack. There looked to be around fifteen to twenty of them, maybe less. Then Damien gawked. Following them - he had hardly noticed it - was a lumbering giant SA unit. He blinked inside his mask. It looked to have some sort of metallic sheen to it that made it difficult to focus on. And despite its size, it made surprisingly little noise. He would have expected to have heard it from miles away, but he only heard its footfalls as it got within striking distance. Was this one of the new Laurel Stealth units? It was incredible. 

The arriving troops approached Sergeant Han and another officer and saluted. One of them stepped forward. “Captain Troy of the Glaucus Infiltrators.” The officer next to Han mirrored his actions. “Captain Carline of the Zamaii Border Patrol. We’re here to escort you and your troops back to Zamaii.” Captain Troy clasped his hands behind his back authoritatively. “Negatory, Captain. With all due respect, we have a top priority message for urgent transmission. You have a tight-line radio we can use?” From Carline’s body language, he appeared to be at something of a loss. Han stepped forward casually and saluted both captains. “Sergeant Han of the Zamaii Border Patrol. Captain Carline, with your permission may I escort Captain Troy and his team to our emergency radio?” Carline regained his composure and followed Troy’s example by clasping his hands behind him. “Ahem...yes of course Sergeant. Permission granted.” Han saluted again and motioned for Captain Troy to follow him, who in turn led several of his squad members to one of the trucks. With nothing to do, the rest of the troops started milling about. Captain Carline didn’t seem to care about keeping them in order - he quickly returned to his truck. Next to Damien, he heard Bob let out a sigh. “Corporal,” he waved to Djemai, who came over. “I think the captain forgot to have us set up a perimeter, so why don’t we go the extra mile and get it done, just in case?” Djemai nodded. “It’s a good idea. I’ll have a quiet word with the other corporals and we’ll post up.” Bob saluted. “Thank you corporal.” She saluted back and marched off. 

A few minutes later Damien, Schertling, Petar, and Bob were asked to cover the right hand center of the convoy. They duly marched off and looked off into the forest resolutely. They continued to look into the trees for around five minutes, after which time Petar got bored and started kicking at rocks. “Boring boring boring. How long do we have to wait here anyway? How long does it take to radio?” 

Suddenly, a voice called out from where the Glaucus Infiltrators had dropped their bags. “Petar Rakevich, is that you?” One of the Infiltrators had come over and was looking at Petar, who was watching him in turn, mildly stunned. “Is that Dart Mallarme?”

“None other! I couldn’t recognize you in that mask, but I’ll never forget the sound of your complaining.” The Infiltrator came over and shook hands with Petar. Some of his squadmates joined him. It was more interesting than just standing around. “What are you doing here, Petar? Did you drop out of the Academy?” 

“I didn’t drop out! I uh...chose to pursue a new avenue.” 

“Ah I see I see...well, it’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you to Dart! Although hardly the best place for a reunion.”

Dart laughed. “You’re not wrong. So you’re with the ZBP now, eh?”

“Yeah, started a few weeks ago.” 

“How’s it been?” 

“Well…” Petar shrugged. “We got hit by an attack on our second day.” 

Dart leaned back. “Tough. Any losses?” 

“Yeah...one of our squad.” 

“Very tough. Sorry to hear that.” 

“Part of the job, I guess...what about you? The Glaucus Infiltrators! You’re in one of Agurts’ premier teams! I always knew you would go far, you were top of the class.” 

Dart laughed again. “You exaggerate, but thank you. It’s not easy, but we hang in there, don’t we team?” The others behind him chuckled and nodded. Dart opened his body and pointed. “Let me introduce the guys...that’s Big T over there, and next to her is Kravitz.” 

Petar followed Darts’ lead accordingly. “Cool. Behind me here we’ve got...that tall one’s Schertling. Next to him is pretty boy Damien, and then...well, Bob must have wandered off.” 

The troops all shook hands. Petar crossed his arms. “So Dart, what’s all this about an urgent radio call? Do you know anything?” 

Dart nodded at Kravitz, who came closer to the group and leaned in to speak in lowered tones. “We’ve been assisting the K6 Jungle team up by the Omangan border. We’ve been seeing quite a lot of activity in recent weeks. Not anything huge, but a lot of buzz.” 

Schertling asked, “What kind of buzz?” 

Big T responded in a booming whisper, “Many small squads trying to hide. But we find them.” 

Dart jumped in: “There’s been an increase in covert operations in our area, but we also think they’re moving troops down towards near the Agurtan border, or maybe into the Estancian Gray Zone, we’re not sure.” 

Big T sighed. “Our radio broke.” 

Damien spoke up for the first time. “What happened?” 

Kravitz spread his arms theatrically. “There was a big storm - huge. There was a landslide and we had to abandon our equipment.” 

“But then why do we need to call back immediately?” Petar wondered. “I mean Omangan covert activity sounds bad, I have to admit, but can’t it wait a few hours.”

Dart shrugged. “Orders are orders. We were told by the captain that as soon as we got our hands on a radio to call directly to Senator Broz.”

Petar let out a whistle. Damien and Schertling looked at each other. “Broz?”

The others looked at the two men in surprise. “You don’t know?” Petar asked. “Since President Aldaman died, Broz has been leader of the Small Council. He’s effectively the ruler of all Agurts.” 

“I hope we’ve got the information to him fast enough. We’ve been off the grid for the last two or three days.” 

Dart hefted his bag. “We’ll just have to hope. Come on! It looks like they’re finishing with the radio. Time to get a move on.” 

Far to the south, in the Halls of the Senate, in the Agurtan capital of Sonceto, Senator Jovik Obremark of Baluard strolled down the columned hallways, looking at some papers. He stroked his beard and fingered at his senator’s medallion as he walked in unconscious frustration. Eventually he sighed and stopped to look out the gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows at the sea. The Hall of the Senate sat on top of a bluff near the ocean - one of the highest points in the city with spectacular views. It was beautiful, he had to grudgingly admit, the pure white columns framing the sparkling blue water with its froth-tipped waves. But it rankled him to admit he liked anything about this city with all its bureaucratic red tape. It was so different from his home in Baluard. For years he had sat as a councillor in the Bastion of Tomas: he knew how things worked, he knew the people, and furthermore the people were...straightforward. Talking to a Soncetan, you never knew where you stood. And too often he seemed to misjudge things, or to forget to sign a certain form, and then he was told - either politely by a steward or condescendingly from a colleague - that he would have to go through the paperwork again to make sure everything was in order. It was maddening. He felt as if he were a mouse in a labyrinth, and everywhere he turned was a wall of paperwork. He had come to the city to fight for the rights of the Baluard people - especially to increase their share in Agurtan trade. As the Shield of the Federation, they had the biggest military budget, which was great if you worked in or around the army, and many people did - but many others didn’t. One of his goals was to integrate the farmers and shepherds in the mountain hills more directly into the growing federal economy. And then, on a personal note as a former military man, he hoped he might be able to open a new branch of the Agurts Military Academy in his home city. His hopes, he mused, were much like the ocean detritus flung upon the rocks below. He watched as some seagulls flew around the rocks, searching for fish or for washed up carcasses. How he missed the food too! What he wouldn’t give for a hot pig roll from right in the heart of the market quarter…

A door opening behind him brought him out his reverie. A young and rather confused steward faced him and bowed. “Senator Obremark!”

“Ah...Steward...Spardavich, was it? What can I do for you?” 

“Ah...nothing sir. I have an urgent message for Senator Broz.” 

Obremark raised an eyebrow. An urgent message for Broz? That sounded interesting. “Indeed? Concerning…?”

The young steward wrung his hands nervously. “It’s...umm…well it’s classified...” 

Obremark moved in closer. He was a tall man, and strong for his age from long years of both military and political service. He loomed over the younger fellow and grinned jovially. “I’m a close friend of the senator’s, Steward Spardavich. You can trust me.” 

The steward was totally cowed. “Well, it’s...it’s a military affair…a call from the ZBP.”

“Well, not only am I a ranking member of the War Council, but the ZBP is in my district - I even served there, during my youth. Stand aside, young man. I will take this call and deliver it to Senator Broz personally.” 

Spardavich seemed at odds of what to do, but after a few moments the fight seemed to go out of him, and he deflated like a balloon. He slunk to the side. “Yes sir.” 

Obremark moved into the chamber and took up the earpiece to listen to the radio message: “This is Captain Troy of the Glaucus Infiltrators, with a message for Senator Broz Docovek of Sonceto. Senator Broz, the Omangans continue to move forces through the Niah Gray Zone. We can confirm that over the last two to three months at least, several units - disguised as zoners - have infiltrated the Gray Zone and then been moved on, destinations unknown. We have attempted to pursue to little success. Based on their outfits, we believe they are moving troops into the Estancian Gray Zones, potentially all the way to Soil Ghost territory, but we have no way of knowing for sure. I once again request that the Senate and War Council make this matter a top priority. The Glaucus Infiltrators will be retreating to Zamaii in order to recover supplies lost in bad weather before moving back to support the K6 Team. This is Captain Troy. Over and out.” Obremark returned the earpiece to its hanger and sat for a few moments in the windowless room, processing what he had just heard. Omangans moving troops covertly in numbers through Niah? It was the first he had heard of it, and, at least according to rank, he was second only to Broz in military matters. He thought back to what the nervous and bumbling steward outside had said. Classified - even from him? Why? This was a matter of national importance, and could completely shift their military disposition. It sounded like this had been going on for some time on the Omangan side - they were playing catch up as it was, and they would need to scramble in order to match whatever the empire was up to. Why hadn’t he heard of this? He stood up. He would have to get to the bottom of this, and quickly - so he would go right to the source. He walked out of the chamber and marched quickly to the offices of Senator Broz. The papers he had been carrying with him lay forgotten and discarded in the hallway. 

Broz welcomed him with a smile and a cup of coffee, which Obremark accepted begrudgingly - he hated the bitter drink, but always felt obliged to show his respect and have a cup. They sat down on one of the senator’s comfortable couches. Broz was a thin man with a sharp goatee that used to be black, but was now speckled with gray. He moved his hands constantly as he talked, giving his smooth voice an almost hypnotic quality. Many was the senator who had walked in to complain of something to Broz only to emerge a few hours later with a pat on the back and a bemused sense of wonderment. Why had they come in the first place? But Obremark steeled himself. He couldn’t let Broz control the flow of things today. 

“Jovik, it’s been too long, eh? Busy, always busy, running a country. Tell me, how is Mirana, and little Flavia? Are they settling in alright? Samantha has been talking to me, we simply must-” 

“Senator,” Obremark cut in. Broz stopped speaking and looked at him in surprise. He wasn’t used to being interrupted. Obremark seized the chance to go on the offensive. “I have just received a disturbing report. The Omangan Empire is moving forces through the Niah Gray Zone to either the Agurtan border or the Estancian Gray Zone. Were you aware of this information?” 

Broz paused for a moment, before calmly picking up his coffee and sipping it. Obremark sat there in silence waiting for a response. None appeared to be forthcoming. “Well?”

Broz put down his coffee and looked at Obremark. All of the mirth had left his face. “To be honest, Senator Obremark, this is a matter of utmost concern for me. As such, and in terms of both speed and security, I had hoped to handle it privately. You know how long it can take to do things around here with all of the red tape…” 

Obremark looked at Broz with a newfound respect. He had never heard the senator say anything like that. In fact, previously, when he had tried to get certain measures passed, it had been Broz who had told him - regretfully - that it couldn’t be done because of this regulation or that stipulation or a certain amendment. It seemed out of character for him to keep something like this secret, and secret also from the War Council. But then again, Obremark reflected, there was a lot about Broz that he didn’t know. Still, for now it was probably better just to play along…

“I see...well, I hope that you can keep me informed, at least, of what progress is being made on this front. As you say, it is an important matter to say the least.” 

“Oh I couldn’t agree more, senator. And you can be sure I will. I’ll let some of my staff know, and they’ll keep you updated with the latest reports. But please, let’s keep it to just us, yes?” Broz leant over to put a hand on Obremark’s knee. “We wouldn’t want any...complications.” 

The way he said it made Obremark wonder. Was the other man threatening him? He nodded in agreement and was shown out. 

He was back in his own, far less ostentatious - and also much smaller - offices, sitting behind his desk and waiting. It was night, and the stars were coming out over the ocean. He had the window open, and he was listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks. He rarely stayed this late at the office, but it had been a strange and disconcerting day. He was beginning to feel that Sonceto - the heart of the Agurts Federation - may not be as safe as he had previously imagined. So he had made a couple of phone calls, and he was hoping that the people who he had reached out to would heed his pleas for help. There were so few people who he could trust…

A knock on the door. He reached beneath his desk for his pistol and turned off the safety. “Enter.” 

The door opened and three men walked in. One of them was tall with golden blonde hair and green eyes, clean shaven. He had a piercing look and was muscular without being buff. The second could have been as tall as the first, but he seemed to walk with a slight stoop. His hair was silver and his eyes were constantly darting around the room. He had trouble standing still, bouncing from foot to foot. The last of them was shorter than the others, and quite lithe. He had brown hair cut very short, and round, intelligent eyes. The first one bowed. “I believe you know us.” 

Senator Obremark stood up, stowing his gun carefully in his desk drawer. “Indeed I do. It’s an honor to be in the presence of three of the Bucks Team.” 

The silver-haired man snorted. “Ex-Bucks Team.” 

Obremark frowned. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Please, gentlemen, sit.” 

The three came in and sat down. The golden-haired man took the center chair and crossed his legs, eyes never leaving the senator, while the silver-haired fellow took a chair and turned it backwards, slouching over the back. The brown-haired one went to the window to look at the sea. 

Obremark spoke first. “So. King, Bucks’ very own tactical genius” he nodded at the golden-haired man. “Jack, I’ve heard a lot about your heroics,” a look at the silver-haired fellow. “And Steel, good at building up but even better at knocking things down. Gentlemen, I will be frank with you: I need your help.” 

“So you said on the phone,” King responded smoothly. “But you didn’t help us before, why should you help us now?” 

Jack sneered. “You sat by like all the others while you voted to disband us and send Bob to who knows where.” 

Obremark put his hand on his desk. “I know where.” 

The three immediately turned to him, Jack jumping up and slamming his hands on the table. “Where is the old man?” 

The senator sat back in his chair calmly. “He’s safe, working on the Zamaii Border Patrol. It was a personal request of his, and I saw that it happened without any fuss. You know we served together.” 

The others looked at him with a newfound respect. Steel asked, “Where?” 

“Back when the ZBP was still just the Zamaii Militia. We were the first to use the Laurel Beavers.” 

Steel gawked. “You were there?” 

Jack snorted. “You’re that old?” 

Obremark chuckled. “I am indeed. Now, here’s the deal. I’ve told you where Bob is, and I’m hoping you can get in touch with Argus, let the Sniper know so he can keep a guard on Bob. He’s a hard man to track down.” 

King smiled. “We have our ways. And what can we do for you in return, senator?” 

Obremark frowned. “Simple enough, really. Keep me alive.” 

King steepled his fingers. “Who’s after you?” 

“I’m not sure yet. But I feel that there’s something going on here, and I need to get to the bottom of it. Something with Broz.” 

Jack spat on the floor. “I never trusted him. Rat-faced, shit-eating-grin, piece-of-” 

“We get it, Jack,” Steel interrupted.

King put his head on fist and considered. “A dangerous enemy.” 

“Yes indeed. But I’m worried that this isn’t just about me, but about the future of our whole Federation…” 

Steel gestured. “Everything we worked for - poof! Up in smoke. That would suck.”

Obremark nodded. “I don’t know who I can trust, if I can trust anyone. Maybe I shouldn’t even be trusting you. But you’re ex-Bucks. If there’s anyone Broz can’t control, it’s you.” 

“You’re goddamn right about that,” Jack bit off the words one by one, as if crunching his way through the idea of Broz’s leadership. King nodded. “Well then. It sounds like you have our support. We’ll keep our eyes watching on you and your family, and we’ll be at your service if you need us.” 

Steel cracked his knuckles. “Time to get back in action.” 

Obremark let out a sigh of relief. “Time is what we don’t have, gentlemen. Let’s get to work.” 

Back in Zamaii, the ZBP were hosting the Infiltrators at the barracks for a couple of days while they resupplied. Corporal Djemai had given them the night off for a job well done, and Petar had invited Dart and his team to go to Harper’s, which they had happily accepted. As Damien got out of his heavy armor and into civilian clothes, he thought of Emma. Maybe tonight he would have a chance to really talk to her again and maybe even ask her out...he smiled at the thought of her. It wasn’t just that she was attractive. She was sharply intelligent and kind; in a way, he thought, he looked up to her. She made him want to be a better man, and what more could you ask for? He even went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror, smoothed his hair. Tonight. Tonight was the night. 

They arrived at Harper’s with the party in full swing: they were hardly the only squad celebrating a mission well-done. There were people dancing on tables, and the radio in the back was blasting out the latest hits from some of the rock bands coming out of Svetlom in Gafia. Dart had his arm around Petar’s shoulders and let out a whistle as they all walked in. “Now would you look at this place...tell you what Pete, you can go back to the jungle, I’ll stay here, what do you think?” 

Petar grinned and winked. “Not on your life! Hey, Barbara!” He shouted at one of the waitresses he knew. “A table for me and my friends!” 

They crowded around a table on the second floor. Dart and Petar started reminiscing about life in Sonceto growing up: “You remember that old game we used to play? What was it?” 

“Uh...President’s Cup?” 

“That’s it! How do we play again?” 

“Well, we just get some cards and then you give me all your money, save us some time.” 

“Get out of town you thief! Alright let’s get some cards and get this party started. Hey! Damien! Where you going?” 

Damien was heading towards the stairs. He waved. “Start without me. I’ll be back in a few.” 

He walked downstairs, his heart thumping in his chest in beat to the music. He got to the ground floor and looked around. It was busy - packed. Damien was a big guy, and he found himself needing to push and edge his way forward bit by bit. But he was determined. He tried to peek over the tops of the heads blocking his way. He could see Emma’s blonde hair just over - wait. He stopped. It looked like she was talking to...Bob? The old veteran had a furrowed brow and seemed quite serious. What were they talking about? They seemed to be deep in conversation. Suddenly Emma turned around, and Damien could see worry written all over her face. She gesticulated to Bob, and then disappeared behind the bar. Bob knocked back his liquor, got up from his barstool and strode out of the room, the crowd giving way to the older gentlemen as he walked. Damien was shocked. What was going on - was Bob - did he - did he have some sort of relationship with Emma? Maybe she was his daughter, or a niece or - no, no it couldn’t be that. Damien had heard that sometimes love knew no limits, but he couldn’t believe they were actually romantically involved. It was impossible! He felt mildly sick. He felt a slap on his shoulder. Big T from Dart’s squad appeared from behind him. “Hey-o, watch out! What’s taking so long? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something. I’ve come to pick us up some drinks.” Damien blinked and let out a sigh. “Nothing. Let’s get ‘em. Let’s get a lot of ‘em, and strong. I feel like I want to get really hammered tonight all of a sudden.” 

Big T beamed. “That’s the spirit, little man. We are celebrating - to life, to a successful mission, to the Agurts Federation! To the bar we go, and long may the night last!” 

Long may it last? Damien thought. To be honest, the only thing he wanted to do right now was forget about it.