The night had passed quietly. Terra had taken two turns standing guard all by herself, patrolling slowly, methodically, as she had seen Fajardi do. He spelled her for the alternate watches, and she managed to squeeze in five hours of sleep before the general encampment began to stir.

Yawning, she rolled up her bedding as smoke from a thousand camp stoves began to drift through the jungle. She heard men talking, a few laughing; quite a bit of coughing, some cursing—men waking up, getting ready for their day. Today they would be moving toward battle…by tonight, some of them might be dead.

Terra felt her heart trip at the thought. She had wanted to fight, and now she was here, on the verge of a real, honest-to-God battle. She wouldn’t be a part of it, of course—she was one of the support troops; it was a step in the right direction, but her goal wouldn’t be accomplished until she was actually a member of the regiment, a real soldier.

She heard Cpl. Santilla giving orders and joined Marialisa as they headed for the trucks to stow their sleeping gear. Somewhere near the road she could hear officers shouting orders, which were repeated even more loudly by sergeants. She glanced around to find Fajardi but didn’t see him. The rest of the cook staff was busily putting out the camp fires and brushing the clearing to remove as many traces as possible that they had been there. Terra wondered absently if it was possible for the entire regiment to erase all sign of its presence.

She was halfway to the trucks, passing between two giant trees, when she heard a sound, something she’d never heard before. It seemed to be coming from the sky, and for just a second she thought it might be aircraft, or a low-flying hovercar. Then she heard a crash and something exploded high in the trees.

Instantly she was deaf, her ears ringing. Concussion hammered her to her knees and she felt a sharp pain in the calf of her leg. Something heavy landed on her, pinning her down.

“Don’t move, Missilini!” It was Fajardi’s voice. “I will protect you.”

Around her, leaves and twigs swirled in the air and fountains of dirt erupted from the forest floor, leaving gaping holes. More explosions erupted high in the trees—she didn’t hear them, but felt them, enormous bursts of pressure that drove her into the ground like powerful fists; she heard Fajardi grunt in pain. The ground heaved around her, dozens of blasts on all sides, each one hammering her with cyclonic force. She found it difficult to breathe; tears squeezed from her eyes as dirt and bits of wood cascaded over her. Fear surged through her veins and her heart seemed to seize—she had never been more terrified in her life.

Back