Chapter 13

Part 3

The next morning, Jaden tried not to fidget as he and Reth waited in Truck’s sterile office for the sergeant to return. Didn’t look like he spent much time in it. Long-overdue paperwork overflowed a wire basket on his desk. The personal effects that decorated most employees’ desks were noticeably absent. On the wall, a framed photograph showed Truck stiffly shaking hands with some important-looking suit in front of The Corporation flag.

As the minutes ticked by, Jaden repeatedly wiped his palms on the pants of his gray ripper trainee uniform in an unsuccessful attempt to keep them from sweating.

Reth, on the other hand, kept his sangfroid as always, as if he were waiting for a train that was always on time. He never once fidgeted. He even slumped in the chair as if he was bored with the entire affair.

The door burst open and Truck blustered in, first shaking Reth’s hand and then Jaden’s. “Sorry I’m late, fellas. Let’s get out of here and I’ll introduce you to your new department.” He tossed another folder of paperwork onto the stack and ushered them into the hall. “Ever been to Fort Miami before?” he asked, guiding them through a labyrinth of white corridors.

“Every Internment Tuesday,” Reth boasted.

“Good man,” Truck said.

“Once,” Jaden added quietly.

“You’ll get the stomach for it in no time, Emory,” Truck said, leading them into the bright Florida sun.

Jaden didn’t have to see Reth’s smirk in order to know it was there.

“The team will be running circuits about now. We can just catch the tail end if I skip the grand tour,” Truck said. “Not much you’ll need to know until you earn your way out of those gray uniforms. We just came from the admin building. Ripping Center is on your left.” A low two-story building hunkered, clinging to the sand. “Mess hall’s to the right and the barracks are behind that. For your first year you’ll stay on base—passes on weekends. You’ll have your own room, but it’s nothing special.”

“Just the basics, Sergeant, sir,” Reth said. “That’s all I need.”

Jaden sighed. What a sycophant. With a new boss to brown-nose, Reth would be insufferable.

In front of him a quarter-mile track delimited an outdoor gymnasium. A squadron of black-clad soldiers worked out with everything from bars and beams to a full weight set.

“Fall in!” Truck shouted.

The squadron dropped into formation in front of them. At first glance they might be mistaken for younger clones of the sergeant. Same buzz-cuts, same solid, wide frames, same insanely bulging muscles. The ripper motto, “Strong bodies, strong minds,” was obviously taken literally here.

Jaden searched the faces. Had some of these men been on the Raptor the night of his crash? The masks they had worn made it difficult to identify specific individuals, but the uniforms were the same. How could he work with men who had seen him at his worst?

“At ease!” Truck shouted.

The squadron moved to parade rest.

Truck assumed a more casual tone. “Men, these are our new team members, Reth Warren and Jaden Emory.”

“Another Warren, huh?” someone whispered.

“Yes, another Warren. I’m sure he’ll do his family proud.”

Jaden watched Reth puff up haughtily at the compliment.

“You’ll be familiar with Recruit Emory as well, if not in name, in deed because—” Truck broke off with a cough.

Dammit! If they weren’t the men who had rescued him, they’d know as much as they did once Truck told them.

Truck cleared his throat. “You’ll know him because he’s the man who pink-slipped the first raver found addicted to Joy.”

A murmur of respect rolled through the ranks. Jaden knew that Joy had been new to him, but he didn’t know Ally was the first addict to be caught while high on it.

A ripper with a black, triangular goatee and even blacker eyes stepped forward. “So he’s the splitter responsible for that new policy?”

Truck laughed. “Actually, some lawmakers in D.C. are responsible for the policy.”

Jaden had no idea what they were talking about. “Sergeant, sir,” Jaden said, “what policy?”

“It hasn’t been made public yet, but you’re both rippers now, so I can tell you. All Joy-related addiction crimes are now punishable by double sentences, retroactive to that raver you turned in.”