“Can I get you boys anything? Another round, possibly?”
“We were just leaving,” cut in Lero.
“Already?” Her jaw dropped in a look of mock horror showing her sharp teeth and forked lizard tongue. “Sit down, the night is young. Can I tempt you with snacks, perhaps? There’s a menu on your—”
No,” said Darren sharply, too sharply. She was nice enough and only doing her job. She stepped aside to let them pass.
“Thanks. We’ll be back again,” he added, softening his tone. Maybe all lizards weren’t the same. Like Dheltans. He shouldn’t take his restless mood out on others.
“We’re regulars,” chipped in Blayze helpfully.
Outside, the city centre was busy as it was every night. The brothers squinted in the neon lights flashing all around, in all shapes and colours that you could think of and some you couldn’t. Indeed, the garish lights made Darren’s eyes water, and he wiped them with the back of his hand.
They stopped at a fast-food barrow to pick up Ruarackl nuggets and Ephu tuber fries before Darren hailed a transport to take them to the barracks. He keyed in three passengers and showed his palm to the pay-reader. The transport was empty; it was a dedicated ride. They sat down in three of the six seats and as the transport lifted off, Lero started to unwrap his food.
“Can’t you wait until we arrive?” asked Darren.
“He means the smell will stink the transport out for the next user. And for us,” Blayze added helpfully. That’s exactly what Darren meant.
Lero rolled his eyes. “Yes, drill sergeant. Three bags full, drill sergeant. Open a window then, if it upsets you so much.”
Darren didn’t mean to be overbearing. He tried his darndest not to pick fights with Lero, but the man couldn’t see the obvious before he tripped over it,the shadow blighted fool.
Lero wouldn’t let it go, but he didn’t unwrap his meal. “Why’d you buy it if you hate it?”
“I like the taste, but the smell is awful.”
“It’s only a five-minute journey at this time of night.” Blayze was the peacemaker of the three.
Once they left the city center, traffic was sparse, and the transport sped over the streets, riding about a foot above the surface, dropping them at the city barracks minutes later. The outside lighting was subdued, the windows blacked out, and the signs were small and in shadow. Passers-by wouldn’t know the building housed soldiers unless they were visitors with a purpose. The empire didn’t want to draw attention to enemies. It made sense and Darren respected the arrangement. A lot of bad decisions came down from High Command, but this one Darren approved of, also the low lighting.
They showed their IDs to the sentry and made their way across the small courtyard, past the administration offices, round the side and into the mess. There were a few warriors leaning on the bar, off-duty and nursing brews, but most of the tables were empty. Lero and Darren grabbed one while Blayze crossed the room and went to the bar on the far side. He returned to his brothers with three brews and a pack of cards in his pocket, since there wasn’t a game going on.
“What shall we play?” he asked as he sat down, tossing the pack of cards in its wrap on the table. Lero and then Blayze opened their food and were eating it with their fingers. The stink was almost overpowering, but Darren figured in a large room such as this, the smell would dissipate, and nobody would mind. He had lost his appetite and his meal lay untouched.
“Miseries of the Future,” replied Lero.
“Not that,” Darren snapped.
Lero smirked. “Probably not, given your mood.”
“Winning Numbers,” offered Blayze. “I’ll deal.”
“Fine. I’ll go and get tokens.” Lero shoved to his feet and went to ask one of the barmen. They didn’t have coin on Ohiri.Everything was paid digitally.
Blayze shuffled and dealt three cards for each player. Darren and Blayze were just settling into the game when a sergeant came in, marched to their table and saluted. He was in a black battle body suit and clearly on duty. His only decoration was a sword belt with the lethal weapon hanging from it to the man’s left. Darren knew he probably had knives hidden about his person as well. Imperial warriors, including the brothers, were trained in all forms of weapons from plasma bolt guns to an impressive range of blades.
“Apologies, Sir, for disturbing your evening,” he said to Darren, “but you and your brothers are to report to the office first thing to receive new orders.”
Here we go again. It was bad news; he felt it in his bones. That was the cause of his uneasy feeling.
Blayze’s mouth popped open. “But we’ve got drill,” he protested. Darren cursed under his breath. Blayze should have known better. Commanding Officers always superseded the Drill Sergeant. He knew what he was signing up for and had been training for long enough.
“You’ve been excused,” replied the sergeant, his gaze fixed on an undefined spot over Darren’s shoulder. “Oh five hundred hours. Battle Fleet Commander Crukugs’ office.” He saluted again, turned on his heel and marched out.
Lero returned, clutching a canvas bag full of plastic tokens. His gaze flicked to the retreating sergeant, then to Darren’s untouched food. He sat down, the chips rattling inside the bag as he thumped it on the table.
“What have I missed?” he asked, placed a predatory hand on Darren’s meal and met his eye. “Are you gonna eat that?”
