Demon Lost (12 page)

I slid out of bed and got a bath in the connecting bathroom—I wasn't supposed to have that—only the officers got separate bathing facilities. Nevertheless, I made use of it, finding soap and other toiletries already in the bathroom. I dressed, too, after finding three outfits of suitable clothing inside the small closet. A knock came on the door just as I was putting my shoes on. Those were the same shoes I'd worn away from the outpost; they were the only ones I had at the moment.

Bel stood outside the door when I answered. "Good, I was afraid I'd have to get you up and around," he grinned. "Feeling better?"

"Yes. Much," I replied.

"Good. Commander Aris wishes to speak with you," he motioned me to follow. We walked down a narrow corridor before coming to the Commander's new office. I did my best to get my bearings as we walked along. The halls were painted white, else it would be quite dark there—lights were spaced far apart in the ceiling. The floors were a dark, reddish-brown tile that echoed with our footsteps. Bel knocked on Aris' door—his nameplate was already there, I noticed.

"Come," I heard Aris say. We walked in, closing the door behind us.

"Reah, sit," Aris nodded toward the standard chair in front of his desk. I sat; Bel remained standing. "Reah," Aris sighed, studying my face carefully, "You know that we cannot have a relationship as long as you are a subordinate." That was true in the Alliance as well. I nodded my head, feeling cold, suddenly.

"Reah, don't look like that." Aris' golden-brown eyes were riveted on my face as he raked fingers through his hair. "I hope this conflict we are experiencing will be over soon," He went on. "As quickly as that happens, I will be free to court you. Please be patient and wait for me. That is what I ask. Meanwhile, I have made arrangements to place you with my Rangers." A small frown tugged at his mouth. "The problem with doing so is this; the Prince Royal doesn't allow women to serve in the military. Because of this, we must cut your hair. Then Bel and I will make you appear to the others as a young male recruit attached to the Rangers. You will run errands for us and deliver messages," he added quickly, to keep me from interrupting. "You will also go out with Bel and the others on scouting trips into the desert. Do you understand? We need your marksman's abilities, and we cannot pass up this opportunity to utilize your talents and conceal you at the same time. You will be known as recruit Re Nilvas from this point forward. Answer to that name and no other. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Commander." I lowered my eyes. My situation had taken another, unexpected turn. I felt like weeping—they were going to cut my hair. I'd gotten special permission from the Alliance to keep it long during my training. I'd had to sign a paper, promising to keep it braided and out of the way, else it would be ordered cut. I'd carefully followed those instructions. Now, it would be whacked off and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Re, do not show me that pouting lip again," Aris' voice was stern and held a warning. I couldn't give myself away as a female. He wouldn't tolerate it and it would put me in danger of discovery. I nodded again and schooled my face. "Bel," Aris said. I still wasn't looking at him. If this kept up, I didn't know if he had any hopes of a relationship after our ordeal with the enemy was over. At the moment, I had no idea how long that might take.

Bel opened the door and called out to someone. A man came in with shears and a comb in his hand. My hands were clasped tightly in my lap as he proceeded to cut my hair, initially snipping right through the top of my braid and setting the length on the edge of Aris' desk. If Aris hadn't warned me before, I might have been sniffling like a baby when the barber did that. He went on to cut the rest of my hair—just as short as the other Rangers wore theirs. I was light-headed when he finished—I couldn't clearly recall the last time I'd had short hair. Bel dismissed the barber, walking out of Aris' office with him. Perhaps he would deliver a warning of some kind—I didn't know.

"Re, it will grow back." I hugged myself and didn't lift my eyes to look at Aris. "Your uniform is inside the bathroom in the corner," Aris went on. "Get dressed and meet Bel in the hallway. He will assign your duties. I have your paperwork in my files. Do not disappoint me and do not give yourself away. Much depends on this. I have three more uniforms ordered for you—they should be delivered tomorrow. The room you woke in is yours, as an attachment to my Wizard Division. You know how to behave as a recruit."

I nodded at Aris' words, still refusing to look at him as he rose from his desk and walked toward the door. He didn't come near me and I didn't expect it, now. Aris was too good at his job to give himself away. I was under his command and that was how it would stay.

Bel was waiting for me and took me to the mess hall attached to our section. Widnal was there, serving breakfast. I wanted to hug him—until that moment I didn't know that he'd survived. He didn't recognize me—whatever Aris and Bel had done was working. Bel pinched my elbow as we picked up our trays of food. Widnal had done his best—the breakfast was probably better than the rest of the station was getting. I ate my meal without speaking to Bel even once, keeping my head down and doing my best to consume what suddenly tasted like ash.

* * *

"This is my office—your desk is in that corner," Bel informed me later. His office was next to Aris' and my desk was tiny and crowded into Bel's space. Scratched and dented from previous use, the desk had a wooden chair placed behind it and writing utensils standing in a small container on the corner. Three small drawers held paper and other supplies.

"Here's a map of the station," Bel handed a large paper over. It held a drawing of the station with the buildings and such represented by square and rectangular lines, each neatly labeled. I studied the map briefly. "I'll need a message carried to the Station Commander as soon as I write it," Bel sighed as he slumped onto his chair. I got the feeling he didn't like writing messages. He ended up dictating the message, I wrote it down, making a correction here and there, let him read the finished note and upon getting his approval, sealed it inside an envelope and dutifully carried it to the station Commander's office.

His assistant was there to receive it, saying he'd deliver it right away, so I returned to Bel's office. Aris' accounts were waiting for me, too, and I was glad I had experience with that. I'd done accounts for Desh's number two and for the Governor of the Realm on Tulgalan when I worked in his kitchen. Figures were totaled and entered, with a copy made for the station Commander's records. Bel said I could deliver those the following day.

I also wrote down Bel's account of the move from the outpost to Crown City after the midday meal. I learned then that nineteen of the thirty transports had perished, and all inside were dead. Stef was one of those, I saw, as a list of the dead was handed to me. "We'll work on condolence letters in the next few days," Bel muttered. I nodded, doing my best to hold tears back over Stef's death, as well as some of the others I found on the lists.

Wrung out might have described me after my first day as a recruit assigned to Bel and the others. I knew what I was doing in a kitchen. This was a new experience and the names I recognized on the lists of the dead didn't make things easier. Bel's "Can you find your way to the mess hall," was somewhat curt. What was I to expect? I was just another low-level recruit, now. Aris' promise to court me after this was over was having less and less appeal as the day wore on. I suppose I should be grateful—it wasn't likely that I'd be hauled in front of the Prince Royal, now, since nobody recognized me.

I wondered again what it was that Aris and Bel had done. I was no longer female in anyone's eyes. I was a young man and a small one. Nobody looked at me except with contempt or ridicule. I got three insults from others as I made my way into the low-rankers' mess. Bel, Aris and the others were likely having their meal (and a better one) served elsewhere.

The sliced fowl was dry, there was no sauce with it and the vegetables were soggy and overcooked. The bread I didn't even touch—it was an insult to the flour it had been made from.

"Not hungry?" I slid my tray into a slot for the kitchen help to dump and wash. I looked up at the one who'd spoken.

"Not today." I wanted to sigh, but that might be a giveaway, too. He was taller, of course—they all were. This one stood at least seven handwidths above my head, had brown hair, muddy brown eyes and a crooked smile.

"New?" he asked.

"First day," I nodded.

"We're all going to a bar outside the station tonight. A few others are new, too," he grinned. "I'm Nods," he held out his hand.

"Nods, this wouldn't be a hazing, now would it?" I took his hand. I'd seen the same thing after my Alliance military training had been completed.

"Now why would I do something like that?" He feigned innocence, tapping his chest with a finger.

"Because it was done to you," I muttered, going around him. He caught my arm.

"If you don't go, you'll be outcast. Here at the station, that's a bad thing." His eyes narrowed in contempt. He was dismissing me as worthless, when he knew nothing about me.

"Of course it's a bad thing," I said, staring at the fingers wrapped around my upper arm. If he knew how quickly I could get past his guard and toss him to the floor, he wouldn't hold onto me like that.

"Show up or there'll be worse for you later," he threatened, refusing to let go of my arm. Everyone else flowed around us, choosing to ignore our exchange.

"Fine," I grumbled, jerking my arm away from his hand. "Which bar and where?" I got directions—it was a place not far from the station, just outside the eastern gate. We were scheduled to be there in two clicks. I went back to my room feeling shaky. Why couldn't my life be stress-free for even one day?

* * *

"What do you think they'll do?" A dark-haired recruit, whose face bore acne scars, asked as I walked into the designated bar at the appointed time. I looked up at the ceiling—wide strips of cloth rippled overhead.

"My guess is they'll drop an unsavory substance on our heads," I leveled a gaze at my fellow recruit. "That's why I wore my worst clothing." I did wear the worst outfit I'd found inside the closet—it was a loose-woven tunic and trousers in an ugly orange. I never wore that color if I could help it. The recruit I spoke with had worn his uniform. If my guess was correct, he might never be able to wear it again.

"Can you get by on only a click or two of sleep?" I asked him. "I'm Re, by the way." I held out my hand.

"Dane," he took my hand and nodded.

"Ever work in a kitchen, Dane?"

"Just my mother's."

"Know how to clean?"

"Yes."

"Good. When they dump the excrement on our heads, we'll make sure the bar is clean afterward. The rest will run like hares away from here."

His eyes were wide as he stared at me and he swallowed nervously before nodding.

Nods showed up a few ticks later, three friends and a pack of new recruits at his back. He left all of us in the middle of the floor while he and his followers went to make an announcement from the bar. They stood well away from the cloth that covered part of the ceiling over our heads and laughed when the contents in barrels above were dumped all over us.

"That's to remind you of what you are," Nods had a high giggle as he laughed. "You're all shit. Don't forget it." He and his friends walked out the back way while the bartender and barmaid gave him dirty looks. Probably wasn't the first time this had happened. Wiping as much of the smelly mess off as I could, I removed my orange tunic, revealing the yellow undershirt I wore. Pulling Dane with me while the others deserted the bar, I went to offer our services to the bartender.

Cleaning the bar took five clicks and cut deeply into our sleep time, but we got the entire mess cleaned up. The owner had taken a small payment from Nods to do this sort of thing, expecting his employees to clean up the mess. That night, they had two recruits working alongside them, making sure the bar was presentable for business the following day. Rags and disinfectant were used to mop the floor after the last of the mess had been lifted and tossed into barrels. Dane and the bartender carried those out while the barmaid and I got down on our knees to scrub. Most likely, the bar was cleaner when we left than it had been when we arrived.

I was thankful I had a shower in my quarters when I got back. Tossing my clothing into an old cloth bag that could be tied up and thrown away, I scrubbed myself in the shower four times, I think, just to make sure I got every bit of the mess and the stink off me. I carried the bag of ruined clothing to the communal throw-away and hefted it over the side afterward. It took some effort; the bin was taller than I was.

* * *

"Late night?" Bel carried a cup of tea into his office the next morning. He looked fresh—I didn't. Dark circles showed up quite well below my eyes. I didn't say anything. This was his military, after all, not mine. I never curse or I might have been persuaded to that morning. Dane most likely was feeling the same way.

Bel and I wrote condolence notes. Then went to midday meal and wrote more notes afterward, folding them carefully and sealing them inside envelopes with wax and a military seal. I wanted to weep as I hand-wrote names I recognized. Forcing myself to ignore threatening tears, I penned the messages Bel requested and went on. It was a different experience, working with paper instead of a comp-vid. How did they survive like this? Hunching my shoulders, I kept writing.