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He about forgot that he’d decided not to fight his commanding officer when Smith stepped out of the tent and swept his arm toward the courtyard. “Move out, soldiers. You got enough energy to fight, you got enough energy to run.”
Tar obeyed first, as usual, jogging his bulk out. Bar’in left next, ducking his head under the force of Smith’s scowl. Fal’ran hesitated, still stung and angry by what he’d seen in Smith’s eyes but followed suit when Bar’in’s purple ribbon disappeared out the exit.
Smith nodded in satisfaction as Fal’ran passed him and Fal’ran picked up his pace to overtake Tar for the lead. If they were going to run, then dammit, he would run the fastest and the farthest and the most of whatever else they were going to do.
“Alright, men, pick it up, let’s go,” Smith ordered them along in a singsong voice as he jogged up beside them. “To the track.”
Bar’in gave a loud groan that Fal’ran felt in his soul and even Tar let out a defeated huff.
“Yeah, that attitude is what got us all here in the first place, isn’t it?” Smith laughed and made a motion with his hand to speed them all up. They picked up their pace again as they jogged through the squad tents—ignoring the stares and sniggers of the other soldiers who knew exactly which squad they were, where they came from, and that they couldn’t fucking breathe in this atmosphere. “You all are going to run that track until you like it. Until you’re all begging me to let you run it again.”
Fal’ran scowled. He’d learned that Smith could talk and run for miles, his voice projecting as clearly and exuberantly as though he were standing still and yelling at them. His constant chatter and goading grated on them, deliberately, Fal’ran was sure, but they could only be so pissed about it when he kept pace with them the whole time.
They cleared the last row of tents and started down the well-worn dirt path into the jungle. A squad twice their size and moving at twice their speed passed them, coming from the opposite direction, all somehow hitting their stride at the exact time and moving as a single column. Fal’ran ran faster and he heard Smith laugh from a few paces behind him.
“That’s the spirit.”
They rounded a bend in the path and the squad whined while Smith let out an appreciative whistle.
“Ain’t she beautiful?” Smith gestured them to the path on the right. “What other bastards get to work out to such a view?”
The track was a mile-long oval circling around a pristine freshwater lake. It was beautiful, but it was also hot and muggy and the closer they ran to it the thicker the air became. There was nothing—nothing—Fal’ran hated more on this planet than that fucking lake. Not even the running path around it that went up and down and up and down over little artificial hills that made his legs scream in agony, and not even the countless other squads of klah’eel soldiers who sneered at their huffing and puffing or worse, ignored them as they passed, as though their little squad wasn’t even worth the acknowledgement. No, Fal’ran hated that goddamn lake the most.
But he ran it.
With the pounding of his boots and his heart in his ears, he ran it again and again and again until he’d lost count of how many laps they’d done.
When the sun reached the very top of its arc above them, and every other squad left the track, they started another lap and Smith started his lecture.
“I want the three of you to listen to me very carefully.” Smith’s voice dropped into a serious, earnest tone, only slightly strained from the effort of the endless miles they’d run. Despite himself, Fal’ran felt his attention hanging on every word. “You are soldiers.”
Fal’ran would have snorted, but he didn’t have the energy.
“No, don’t make that fucking face,” Smith snarled and Fal’ran winced. “Any of you. You think I didn’t read your files? You think I don’t know where each of you came from or what each of you did?”
Fal’ran found his breath enough to inhale through his nose, trying to catch a whiff of his squad mates. Bar’in’s shame and resentment hit Fal’ran harder than the slight man had ever hit him in training. They almost completely drowned out Tar’s scent, which was small, meek, hidden, as though Tar was trying to pull his own scent back inside himself. Fal’ran didn’t know what he himself smelled like, but he didn’t doubt it was scathing enough to get him severely disciplined if Smith’s pathetic human nose worked.
Smith jogged a few paces too far away for his own scent to carry. “So don’t sneer, don’t scoff. I know exactly who you all are, and what did I say?”
What was the point of this? Fal’ran wished he could outrun this ridiculous pep talk, but it was all he could do to keep his legs moving at all. Who was Smith trying to fool?
“What did I say?” Smith repeated, his volume ratcheting up a notch. “What are you?”
A whore, a criminal enforcer, a projects brat, and a human playing at being a klah’eel is what they were. And if Fal’ran ever wanted to be anything more, he’d have to fight his way out of this group, like he’d fought his way off Klah’s moon. They wanted to keep him down, shove him away, until he rotted like trash on the corner, but he wasn’t going to let that happen.
Smith raised his voice until it rang clear across the lake. “What are you?”
And to the shock of everyone, Tar’s baritone rang back. “Soldiers, sir!”
Chapter Two
Fal’ran stumbled to a stop and heard Smith and Bar’in do the same. They all turned and stared at the giant klah’eel who had spoken for the first time since Fal’ran had met him two weeks ago. Fal’ran had wondered if the man even could talk or if someone had done something to him in his shady past that prevented it. But no, he’d responded clear as day with a strong, proud voice. Now, though, with the entire squad staring at him, Tar rounded his shoulders and his eyes dropped down to the dirt path between his boots.
Smith wasn’t having it. His shocked expression split into a grin that lit his face up from the inside, and he clapped Tar on the back. “Damn right you are.”
Watching Smith’s striking blue eyes shine as he looked at Tar with a wide smile on his face, made Fal’ran’s stomach clench. He lifted his lip and turned away, but not before catching Bar’in’s nostrils flare. Not that Bar’in had anything to smell. Fal’ran wasn’t feeling anything other than the nausea of pushing his body too hard. That was all.
“And you’re all going to get used to this air,” Smith said as he passed Fal’ran and led them down a small path that snaked off into the jungle. His voice held a comforting tone, and Fal’ran glanced at him to check the confidence in his face. “I promise.”
