- Day One -

I’m not sure when I realized I was awake – my dreams had been a still blackness, nothing but myself and the darkness that enveloped my eyes – kinda like my room. Except for the hammock I lay on, the trunk underneath it, and the half-circle of the light fixture, my room was totally empty, and with the light off, impossible to see my hand in front of my face as I rocked myself from side to side gently. At some point however, I felt the shifting of the canvas hammock underneath my back end in a gentle bump as it swung too far and touched the wall. I sat up, and swung out of bed, landing on the cold concrete with a slight stagger as I was reminded how high the thing was actually hung, and I began moving my hand along the wall, looking for the door. I was able to stumble across my light switch first and twisted it with a dull click, wincing at the sudden burst of light as I walked back to my hammock, kneeling to open the trunk that lay beneath.

The thing was made out of titanium, totally painted over with a dull gray, though it had numerous bangs and dents that showed the glint of metal. On the top was the crow of the Wastewalkers in navy blue, and underneath, where my name had once been, was only a crooked ‘S’ in a dull, angry red. I scowled at it as I opened the clasps, and flipped the lid up roughly, uncaring as it cracked against the concrete wall. Inside was a series of fold out drawers, and as I unfolded them, they sprang up, soon reaching more then a couple feet above the mouth of the actual chest. I stood back, and considered whether to go with the rumpled cotton jumpsuit we'd been given at training, or the set of combat armor that had been given to me last night. For a while, I entertained the notion that I could perhaps simply lounge around all day – after all, this was my first day on duty here…I shook my head, and dug out the armor. Punishment is punishment, after all.

One thing I constantly heard from the instructors was how putting on combat armor is an annoying, though relatively simple process. There’s the underskin, which is fairly alright; it’s pretty much just a skin-tight kevlar sleeveless shirt and matching leggings, though they’re still fairly uncomfortable if you’re not used to them. I wasn’t. Then came the core armor – the poorly named ‘chestplate’ - a series of close-fitting metal pieces that started at where your neck met the shoulder, and descended down to the beltline on both sides of your torso. The whole thing was held together with a series of straps and buckles, which made it an easy – though lengthy – process to properly adjust it. Then, the armored boots – roughly knee high–, gauntlets that came to the elbow, and a thick but light helmet that covered most of my skull, with a clear visor protecting the face that would slide into the helmet with the click of a button on the helmet’s temple.

I was a ‘Lightie’; my armor was fairly thin and light, allowing for maximum movement, at the cost of severe under-protection – I doubted any of it could block anything more then a few shots from a pistol. Some of the guards and soldiers I’d seen back in New Denver had been ‘Heavies’, people who were strong enough to stand several layers worth of extremely thick layers of armor, each strong enough to stop a high-caliber bullet cold. I never understood why they would need that much armor, though I now wished I had something like that – for the protection from the cold drafts if nothing else.

Drafts. I blinked, and looked around my room. I didn’t remember a window…Then I noticed that part of one of the walls looked totally different. What I had taken for a weird anomaly last night, was, indeed, a metal shutter that had been painted black, camouflaging it as it ran over a head-sized square of the wall. I looked for a handle, but couldn’t find any, so I slid my fingers between a couple of the inch-wide slats, and tried to tug it open. When it refused to budge, I pushed my second hand alongside the first, and pulled forcefully. This time it gave, and I grunted in surprise as I landed on the floor, bouncing my back along the concrete.

I sighed at the slight pain and rose, staring out the window at the bleak, crippled wasteland. In the distance, I could barely make out the blackened wreckage of an ancient tree, the twisted limbs reaching into the sky the only thing that broke the flat horizon, the line between black starless sky and pale sanded ground. Somehow, in the disaster that had destroyed the surface so many years ago, this single lonely plant had stayed upright, though it hadn’t lived through the dust-storms, the drought. I’m not sure how long I stared at the distant monument of dead wood, but a cough snapped me out of my reverie, and I jerked around with a frown, mentally cursing at my inattention.

My visitor frowned, and peered at me from beneath the brim of her cap, her arms crossed over a navy blue jumpsuit made of material much coarser and thicker than mine. Nevertheless, I thought I detected the gleam of amusement in her eyes, and my day suddenly seemed much worse – this was Kate (officially, Corporal Kathryn DeLuis), leader of S-2. Which made her my boss, assuming I remembered correctly. And here she was, trying not to laugh at the new guy who had gotten tossed on his ass trying to open a window, and then decided to stare off into the distance. I expected a cutting remark, or something, so the amused note of her question caught me totally off guard;

“I wouldn't have expected dirt to be so...gripping.”

I shrugged, and jerked my head at the window, turning back to it, and pointing out the tree in the distance. She stared at me with a confused expression, and seemed about to ask the question again when realization dawned, and her frown deepened. The light in her eyes died, and they grew flat and unreadable.

“Oh, that’s right…you’re the mute, aren’t you?”

I lifted my neck and gestured to the still-pink scar across my neck, and we stared at each other for a long moment before I shrugged noncommittally, and moved back to my trunk, focusing on folding the drawers back down as I waited for her to leave or start shouting orders. When neither of these happened, I straightened, and glanced behind me, watching as she peered between the slats to the outside. After a long moment she leaned back in and stared at me again, with a look I couldn’t quite read, before opening her mouth to say something –

The sudden shrill scream of the alarm in my ear caused me to flinch, a twinge of pain running from temple to temple, giving me an instant headache that vanished as quickly when the bell stopped. I straightened, ignoring Kate's stare, twisting my earpiece out of my ear slightly as a loud, amused voice issued from it.

“Good Morning, ladies and gents. The weather here on the surface is, of course, clear, with some gunfire predicted later in the day. Last night’s shipment brought in some new toys, so the Captain wants yuh to hurry up and play with ‘em. Ya’ll got about five seconds to get to the walkers and get rollin’.”

I watched Kate pass through the door and followed, trying to remember the layout of the compound as we ran out into the hall, our four boots joined by several more pairs as we neared the door that lead out into the courtyard. I looked at the various faces, trying to remember the names that had passed by in a blur last night, during last night's 'meet n' greet’. That night they had been sitting around the mess, wearing T-shirts and jeans, laughing at inside jokes and glancing over at me. Now they were in war gear – armor, helmets, drumming boots – and I concentrated on connecting faces to names and voices.

There was Kate, of course, in her jumpsuit and cap, long blonde hair pulled back into a braid, which whipped back and forth around her shoulders and head as she ran. She was digging out a thick pair of steer-glasses, pulling on control gloves. Then there was Goggles, the other girl in our squad, with brutally short red hair and a smirking smile, a green headband tied around her forehead, talking into her mike as she struggled with her chestplate. Jonny, the only black person I’d seen in the whole compound so far, was a massive mountain of a guy, with bright red facepaint that ran over his cheeks in two wide streaks, and circled around one of his eyes. X-ray, a tall, thin redhead with some serious attention problems, was busy with his armor; somehow, even while running, he was able to slide on his boots, kicking his sandals off into the darkness of the tunnel. Finally, just behind me, I could hear the whirring noises of Jump’s breath-mask, the puff and hiss of air being inhaled/exhaled audible even over the thudding of twelve boots.

Finally, with a last turn, we ran out into the compound, and this is where I felt my first hit of confusion. Last night I had been shown around by a half-drunk tech, but now the bright sun-lamps were on, and I was confused, the strong shadows distorting the vehicles they fell against. I stopped, and heard a curse as Jump smashed into my back, rolling us both across the floor. For a moment, I was face to face with him, and his eyes narrowed, the red irises aflame with annoyance, the vents in his breath-mask flaring, before Johnny pulled us apart, pushing Jump toward the array of helicopters and fliers, hooking me by the collar of my chestplate, dragging me over to the Tortoise, and dumping me on the ground with a snort.

The Tortoise was a leviathan of a war-walker, more heavily armed and armored then any others in the compound. It was vaguely shaped like, perhaps unsurprisingly, a turtle, with a huge ovular shell with panels etched along the top, a smaller, similar shape in the front – the cockpit – and four massive legs. The entire machine was nearly forty feet from the concave 'belly' to the top of the rounded shell, and just as wide – but twice as long. When ‘parked’, the legs bent, and contracted somewhat inside the metal shell, but the rear hatch still hung nearly seven feet off the ground – Kate was busy jumping trying to grab the last rung of the cable ladder that hung there, before Jonny simply grabbed it, pulled it down, and stepped back as the rest of S-2 sped up it like squirrels. He watched me struggle with the twisting of the flexible rungs, before shoving me up with a snort of impatience, half-tossing me through the open hatch.

The main body of the Tortoise was a huge chamber, lined with seats and lockers, enough for a group several times our size. X-ray and Kate were busy opening the weapons locker, pulling out various favorite weapons. Jonny snorted again as he rose behind me, and I scrambled out of this way as he joined them. Goggles however, was hidden, but as I knelt to pull up the ladder, I saw her sitting in a corner, an equ-tor open on her lap, chatting excitedly into her mike as her fingers flew across the tiny keypad. I pulled up the ladder, secured it to one of the steel studs that protruded from the floor, and then stood, unsure what to do next – so I just sat, buckling myself into the seat harness.

I watched as Kate took out a pistol, examining it. I glanced at the weapon, and almost immediately, something flashed across the back of my mind – like déjà vu, or something. I blinked, and stared at the weapon again, but nothing happened. Kate was staring back at me by this point, and I feigned interest in my visor, tracing my finger along it like I’d seen a crack. By the roll of her eyes before she put her steer-glasses back on, I don’t think she bought it. Jonny definitely didn’t – he scowled at me and adjusted one of gloves meaningfully, flexing his hand against the thick leather and metal that stretched across it. I swallowed, and hunched over to stare at my own feet, scowling slightly as X-ray walked past, chuckling to himself.

Kate disappeared into the cockpit and, after a burst of colorful swears came through the door, the Tortoise thundered to life, and I settled back into my chair, closing my eyes to wait. I had stared at a map of the surface during some of my spare time on the trip up here – the nearest nest was supposed to be about fifteen miles from the compound. The Tortoise – again showing how aptly it was named – traveled roughly twenty miles an hour, if I remembered correctly. It was going to be a long ride.

So, of course, we stopped almost three minutes later, and Kate was standing in front of me before I could even open my eyes. I looked up, and quailed at the fire that lit her eyes, a fierce, angry determination. In her hands was a D-35 General Assault Rifle, or ‘GAR’ for short, which I remembered from the minimal training they gave before sending me up here. I got that weird feeling in the back of my head again, but she dropped the rifle on my thigh, narrowly missing my crotch, which utterly ruined my concentration. She dropped a few magazines on the seat next to me before turning around, and looked at Jonny, who was busy trying to hide a smirk as he dug a knuckle into his cheek.

“We’ve arrived. Ready yourselves”

I blinked, and looked from her to Jonny, who moved for the weapons locker, ignoring my curious glance. Goggles and X-ray followed, and as I unbuckled my seat-belt, I watched as S-2 got ready for – whatever we were doing here.

X-ray had slung a GAR over his shoulder while exploring the weapons locker and now he rummaged through another locker near it, and withdrew a belt studded with – I gaped. The small black studs were mining explosives, powerful (and unstable) enough to tear my head in half if I looked at them wrong. He caught my eye, and reached into the locker, half-pulling another belt out, giving me a measuring glance. I just gaped, and he giggled – yes, giggled – and tossed them to me, buckling the other belt around his own waist, before drawing out a long brawler’s knife, with a long blue steel blade, and brass knuckles decorating the grip, sliding that into his belt as well. As he bustled past, I stepped as far away as I could, pressing into the wall, eliciting another burst of giggles from him.

Jonny, by contrast, seemed to be having difficulties, but not so much with his armor as his choice of weapon. Over his shoulder he'd slung a truly massive weapon, the angry older brother of the GAR that was still sitting on my seat. Unfortunately, between his massive size and the weapon's length, he'd wedged himself into the hatch, and now he twisted around, staring at me. I couldn't help swallowing as I stared at the grim facemask of his armor, and he was still for a moment, simply staring. Then with another twist, he was free, and he disappeared below.

Goggles had stowed her pocket equ-tor, and now had a much larger one with her, still typing and whistling to herself quietly. Her armor was light, like mine, though she had replaced the clear visor with, unsurprisingly, a set of goggles that now were pulled over her eyes, magnifying her eyes. As she typed, I heard a series of beeping noises behind me, turned – and stared at two miniature Tortoises, each about the size of a large dog. They came forward, each “flexing” tools and weapons out of their bodies, emitting high pitched squeaks and whistles at each other, dodging around me as they headed to her. Goggles caught me staring from her to the mini-Torts and looked back at me for a long moment, her magnified eyes emotionless, before going back to her equ-tor, her fingers flying over the keys.

Kate had disappeared again, so I slid the rifle strap over my shoulder, and began climbing down the ladder, wondering quietly how Goggles was going to get those pet droids of hers down to the ground – I doubted that they could climb ladders, and as far as I could tell, the hatch was the only way into the Tortoise – I hadn’t seen a cargo lift, or anything of the like. So I was slightly surprised when a metal oval went shooting past me, a blur of silver scattering the tan of the sand. I stopped, and stared, clinging to the ladder a few feet from the ground, watching as the half-buried oval extended a probe, dug itself out, and unfolded into one of the mini-Torts. It looked up, a pale green light visible under the protective hood, before chirping at me and scurrying away.

I scrambled the rest of the way down, sprinting over to join Jonny as another silver blur thudded into the sand a few feet behind me. He reached out casually and stopped me, just before another landed in front of us, throwing a huge cloud of sand up in a small explosion. I must have lost my balance, or something, because when I could finally see, Jonny was staring down at me, suddenly another couple of feet taller than me – not that he really needed it. Then, with a grunt, he grabbed the front of my chestplate, pulled me to my feet, and watched as more of the mini-Tortoises landed, about fifteen in all.

When the clouds of disturbed sand finally settled, I was not unduly surprised to see the rest of S-2, having appeared like ghosts. Kate looked around, seeming to check each of us out, cocking an eyebrow at the grip Jonny still had on my chestplate, but said nothing, instead raising a fist above her head, swinging it in a circle, and pointing in the direction of a nearby dune. The others turned, and started jogging toward the dune, leaving me with Jonny in the shadow of the Tortoise. I moved to follow, but his massive fist still clutched the front of my chest plate, and when I turned to look at him, his facemask was lifted, and a pair of bloodshot eyes glared at me, his lips pulled back, revealing his teeth in a fierce scowl.

“Now you listen to me, S.’ He hissed my letter like it burned his mouth. ‘We haven’t had a casualty since Kate took over, so I don’t know why we got sent a newbie, but that’s not important. What –is– important is that you don’t get a chance to fuck that up. Now listen to me, and listen well. I don’t know what they taught you down in the ‘Academy’, but up here, it means practically nothing. Forget all of it. Sit, watch X-ray. He’s a little off, but he’ll tell you what you need to stay alive. You understand me?”

I nodded, and winced as he pulled me closer to his face, up onto my toes, almost completely off the ground. He actually growled, when suddenly a thought flashed across his face, and his eyes darted off my face, to my neck. After a moment of searching, he found what he was looking for, and when he looked back, his anger had only intensified, enough so that his voice had the edge that usually precedes beatings of bone-breaking intensity.

“So. Not only a newbie…but a criminal? I wonder what you did to warrant such, mute. You’re not a murderer, that much is obvious. Probably a thief, stole some noble’s bauble, am I right?”

I shook my head, and then another thought crossed his face, like a shadow, contorting his features into such a gargoyle-like shape that I tried to edge back – to no avail, as his hand still held my chestplate in an iron grip. As I kept trying to pull back, he flexed, and suddenly my boots were nearly a foot off the ground.

“Wait. I saw the way you looked at Kate earlier…is that it? You have wandering hands, maybe like the fair sex more then they like you, is that it?.”

Oh shit. I didn’t answer the unasked question, just squeezed my eyes tight, very much aware that I was incredibly likely to suffer from several broken bones, but when nothing happened, I opened them slightly, hoping that he wasn’t just waiting for such a movement. His eyes were no longer focused on me, but instead somewhere over my shoulder. Cautiously, slowly, I looked back over my shoulder – but there was nothing there but the leg of the Tortoise, and when I looked back, his eyes were back on me, the hot rage gone, replaced   by a strangely even glare.

“Look, mute. What I said still applies, but you step anywhere near Kate or Goggles the wrong way, and I won’t have to do anything. Jump’ll deal with you a lot faster then I ever could manage.”

With that, he dropped me, and ran off after the others. I stood, slowly, and watched as his massive form grew more distant, finally disappearing around the curve of one of the dunes. I sighed, and grabbed my rifle where it had fallen, running after him. Punishment this was indeed.

- ? -

Nothing much happened after that – we found an old abandoned mine-shaft, and, either because I was the newbie or because I was mute, I was volunteered to climb down to check it out, wandering around the dark tunnels for several hours. Nothing moved, nothing made any sort of sound, but I didn’t waste time climbing back up, only to be subjected to scornful frowns and glares when Jonny noticed I had gone without loading a magazine into the rifle. The ride back wasn’t much better – Jonny had apparently shared his theory on why I had been muted, and the others reacted as such – X-ray stared sullenly the entire trip, Goggles very pointedly taking the farthest seat she could. Kate, of course, vanished into the cockpit the second she came in, but I didnt doubt she would have acted much the same.

Once we got back, I headed back to my room, ignoring the various stares that gathered around me on the way there. In front of my door were my uniforms; a pair of jumpsuits, one identical to the one in my trunk – though this had S-2’s squad patch emblazoned on the shoulder (A turtle with a cannon on it’s back), the other white, and made of stiffer material, my ‘name’ stenciled on the breast in red, below a blue Wastewalker crow. I grabbed them, placed them on my trunk, shrugged off my armor, slid into the blue jumpsuit from home, and laid back on the hammock, staring out my still-open window at the distant tree. Somewhere beyond it, I could very faintly make out the quick, violent motions of the Widow, S-4’s war-walker, as it skittered around the empty sands. At some point, I blinked – and my eyes didnt open as I fell asleep.

- End of Day One -

In the distance, I could make out the glow of the city, way in the distance. For a moment, I was captivated, tracing the tops of the distant buildings with a finger, wondering about the people who lived in them. Then a whistle shattered the silence, quickly followed by a gunshot, then another, quick on its heels. I leaned out, over the lip of my home, staring at the figures directly below.

One was lying on the ground, either a victim of one of the shots, or some other injury – he wasn’t moving. Three pairs of men fought in the street beside him, and I watched as the conflicts were quickly finished – the flash of knives in the dark as they sank into flesh caused me to cry out, and one of the surviving men looked up, pointing with a shout –

I woke, jerking so violently that I slammed into the concrete alongside my hammock. For a moment I saw stars, that gradually disappeared, replaced only with the distant tree. My light was still on, and I sighed, getting up to click it off, but something trickled down my cheek, and when I wiped it away, imagining it was sweat, my fingers were smeared with red.