Chapter I
Dedication
To Aldo, my first bird dog, thank you for giving me purpose when I needed it most, and for teaching me that one bird with you is worth more than a million without you.
To Alexis, my wife, thank you for your patience as I learned these truths, and for walking beside me on every path, whether in the field or beyond.
Chapter I
וְעַבְדִּי כָּלֵב עֵקֶב הָיְתָה רוּחַ אַחֶרֶת עִמּוֹ וַיְמַלֵּא אַחֲרַי, וַהֲבִיאֹתִיו אֶל-הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר-בָּא שָׁמָּה, וְזַרְעוֹ יוֹרִשֶׁנָּה.
“But my servant Caleb, because he had a different spirit and has followed me fully, I will bring into the land.” — Numbers 14:24
I knew the air was supposed to be thinner here, but I didn’t think it would hit me this hard. It was like trying to breathe through a sock of dust. And I hadn’t even left the ramp yet. Fuck. I fumbled for my rebreather.
“Don’t use that thing unless you’re about to black out,” the crew chief shouted over the roar of the turbines. “You’re not about to black out, are you? I thought you guys were supposed to be ready for this place.” Before I could mutter a “fuck you” back at him, he was already rambling on with the typical back-in-my-day bullshit, moving about the cargo bay checking post-flight sensors.
I took a gulp from my rebreather and hooked it back to my vest. Fuck you, Chief. I checked Caleb’s collar, grabbed my ruck, and took one last look around the cargo bay to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything.
“In-processing is Building 254. It’s right next to the control tower,” the crew chief shouted while he ran his fingers over a fuel line. I could hear the condescension in his voice, like I should already know. On a base I’d never been to. On a fucking planet I’d never been to.
I looked down at Caleb. Alright, buddy, this is it.
We headed down the ramp but we didn’t make it far before I heard the crew chief shout “Hey!”
Great. Now what. Caleb and I halted. I looked back.
“There’s a lot of people counting on you. Be safe, dude.”
There wasn’t any condescension in his voice this time. It was earnest. Sobering, even. The voice of someone who’d watched a lot of teams walk off this ramp, but not very many walk back on.
I gave an obligatory head nod and a mumbled, “thanks,” before turning back and stepping off the ramp. My eyes drifted to the faded Chinese lettering on the traffic control tower. The paint, bleached by the tandem suns, was a ghost of the first flag raised here. A reminder that this place was a graveyard for empires.
Caleb sneezed, breaking my trail of thought. He was up to date on his shots but the sneeze still made me uneasy. I thought of all those posters in boot camp. Cloudy and spotted lungs. Canine and human caskets lying in state. The bold letters “A Dereliction of Duty” left nothing to the imagination. We could be the best hunter killer team that this place had ever seen, but one missed dose - his or mine - and none of that would matter.
We made our way to 254. “Welcome to Ararat, sir. You’re in 107, Block C.” He stifled a yawn. “That’s near the back of the building. We try and put the H/K Team guys back there because it’s closest to the kennel.”
I had no intention of leaving Caleb in a kennel but I took the keys to both and thanked the private anyway.
“Chow is 0700 / 1200 / 1700, Grab n’ Go is open around the clock, and the training facilities can be reserved any time through the Hub but Regiment gets priority. Speaking of Regiment, it looks like you’ll be attached to 3rd Regiment. Regimental headquarters is next door in 257. Report to Colonel Gibbons at 0900 tomorrow but you can probably get into the armory before then. Chief Willis is the armorer. He usually opens up shop by 0700.”
I glanced down at the base diagram taped to the counter.
“What about laundry?” The laundry facilities on the carrier had been down for the last month and I was running low on clean socks. I hated wearing dirty socks.
“Laundry is in the barracks, sir.”
I gave the map one last look while reaching for my ruck on the floor. “Thanks, private….” I glanced at his name tape, “Roads.” I took one more deep breath of filtered air and headed for the door.
“Hey, last thing”
“Yes, sir?”
“How long does it take to acclimate?”
Roads grimaced.
“It usually takes a few days, sir. Some can adapt faster than others. Just don’t forget…” he trailed off.
“To take our dose?”
“Yeah.”
“Check. See you around, Roads.”
“Welcome to Ararat, sir,” he said one more time before putting his head back down on the desk. Was that pity?
My stomach grumbled on the walk to the barracks. Caleb needs to eat, too. I found my room at the back of the building. A logistics container converted to a makeshift apartment complete with bunk, desk, locker, and a flickering light would be our home for the next three months. Caleb was through the threshold, inspecting every inch, before the door finished swinging open.
“Home sweet home,” I said under my breath. Caleb paused his inspection for a moment to look back at me but as soon as I realized I was just talking to myself again, he resumed the critical task.
I dumped my ruck in the corner and checked my wrist for time. Note to self - figure out what local time is and make sure Caleb’s collar and goggles are synced.
“Let’s get a bite,” I said to Caleb as I motioned to the door. Inspection already completed, he had made himself comfortable at the center of my bunk.
“You know that’s not your bunk.” He looked at me dumbfounded, as if we didn’t both know the charade at play, and hopped off the bunk and padded to the door.
Colonel Gibbons seemed to hit every stereotype you could think of for a regimental commander. Athletic build, salt and pepper hair that was neatly groomed framing a weathered but handsome face. You could tell he had spent years tempering his native accent and refining his syntax to match the ring on his finger, symbolic of being a graduate of the academy.
“It says here you and… Caleb, is it?” reading over a briefing pad.
“Yes, sir,” I said, my back rigid as I stood at attention, Caleb at heel.
Colonel Gibbons looked down at Caleb and then back at me, “relax, Son,” and he leaned back in his leather chair.
Caleb remained steady as I relaxed.
“It says you two cleared fourteen sectors in less than a planetary month over on Veridian. I couldn’t believe it so I called an old classmate of mine - maybe you’ve heard of him, Colonel Reeger, and sure enough, that’s the case. In fact, the way Johnny made it sound, this Field Report doesn’t do the story justice.”
I could feel his eyes boring into me. A mixture of disbelief and intrigue.
“Caleb is a hell of a partner, sir.”
Caleb’s head canted slightly, hearing his name.
“Hm. Yes, I suppose he must be,” Colonel Gibbons shifting his gaze over the file down to Caleb, then back to me before dropping the file on his desk.
“Well, I’m glad to have you two. Hell, the whole Regiment is glad to have you.”
He pushed himself up from his chair and made his way over to the digital map display on the wall. “We’ve been having a hell of a time here,” tapping on the map at what appeared to be a crossing point over a valley.
“We secured the far side of this gap a few months back, but every time we bring in any equipment - the tillers, planters and the like - the spurbacks seem to come out of the woodwork.
“Now, my boys aren’t green at this, they’ve secured air bases all across this galaxy, but they’re getting torn to pieces, and until we can get things squared away, production is at a standstill - and we cant’t have that. There’s going to be riots in the streets back home if the food shortage gets any worse.”
The sound of the door sliding open interrupts the Colonel. A stocky, middle-aged man steps into the room. The star framed by three chevrons and three rockers on the shoulder of his combat suit tells me enough. Command Sergeant Major.
“Steve,” the colonel acknowledging the sergeant major, “I was just laying out the situation for our new Hunter/Killer team, they got in last night.”
The sergeant major shakes my hand, “welcome to our little piece of hell, sir.” He’s gruff, but its genuine. He turns to Caleb. “This your partner?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major, that’s Caleb.”
The sergeant major nods and turns back to me, “the boss showed me that Field Report from Veridian. You have quite the reputation.”
“It was a team effort, Sergeant Major.”
The sergeant major grunts and turns to the colonel.
“What’s the word, Steve,” the colonel asks.
“Sir, the recce team is back. I told them to grab chow and meet us in the TOC for an After Action Review in 15.”
“Thanks, Steve. We’ll meet you there in a few.”
The Sergeant Major snapped a salute and headed for the door. As it slid open, he turned his head, “oh, and, Carter, we have a kennel for a reason. Don’t let me catch that dog in the barracks.”
Caleb and I settle in at the back of the Tactical Operations Center and listen to the recce squad leader run through the After Action Review.
Damn, this dude looks rough. The whole squad looks rough.
“Good morning, my name is Staff Sergeant Thorne and this is the AAR for last night’s recon.”
Behind him, a big screen flashed an update and aerial drone footage began to play. Last night’s mission, presumably. To his side, a hologram mission planning table comes to life, projecting a piece of terrain. It looks like it contained the valley the Colonel was starting to tell me about earlier.
“We infilled via Kestral at 0200 local time and the designated LZ.”
An area, about two kilometers from the gap, lights up on the table’s display and a Kestral appears. It touches down briefly and small figures disembark before it picks up and flies off into the holograph ether.
“We crossed phase line Coors at 0300 and established an overwatch of the valley, placing LIDAR sensors here,” SSG Thorn moves around the table, acknowledging three glowing points, “here, and - ”
SSG Thorne is interrupted as one of the squad members begins to convulse in his seat.
“Hey, Jean - get doc - Jean! GET DOC!” one of the squad shouted. The soldier, Jean, is writhing on the floor now, vomiting uncontrollably.
“WHERE’S DOC!?” another shouted while another squad mate starts to strip the battle gear off the man on the floor.
Fuck. Caleb lets out a soft whine, his ears now tucked.
“MEDIC!” The squad is screaming now.
The convulsions stop as sudden as they started. Now there’s just silence. Shock and silence. The white noise hum of the air system grows to deafening roar. The drone footage is still playing on the screen behind SSG Thorne with the mission table lighting up in sync. A firefight of some kind.
The whole squad is standing around Private First Class Bobby Jean now. Their weathered faces, with dust caked like tan lines in all the places that their heads up displays and rebreathers don’t cover, pale. One of them turns and throws up. Not the same way that Jean did, but in the way that a man can wretch after he’s watched his best friend die.
The medic is here now. His entrance breaks the roar of the air. I watch it play out on his tired face. I watch him search the room, see the body with gear and vomit spread across the floor, and I watch the realization sink in. The realization that nothing can be done. What’s done is already done.
The squad helps the medic get PFC Jean onto a stretcher while a staff officer shuffles around, resetting the mission table and the drone footage. Like this was normal. SSG Thorne is on the floor now, back against the podium, flicking his wrist while his index finger slaps against a can of Copenhagen.
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading the first chapter of Eroded Frontier. If you enjoyed this, you may enjoy the real-world written inspiration that’s found in The Gazette or the visual archives of The Darkroom.
