Page 93 of Shattered Stars

“Enforcer,” he says.

“Sergeant,” he answers. “I have Spencer Moreau here. He’ll be joining the new recruits.”

The sergeant takes the paperwork the man in black passes to him, and scans it, although his eyes keep skipping up to me.

“You’re joining early?” he asks me.

“Yes, Sir.”

The sergeant glances at me. “Was he kicked out of the academy? Is he a troublemaker?”

“I was told by the chancellor that the decision was the boy’s. He had enough points to graduate early.”

The sergeant scoffs. “His brother was a trouble maker.”

I take a menacing step towards the weedy little man. “My brother was a hero.”

The sergeant shakes his head, folding the paperwork in half. “That what they told you?”

I growl and the man in black lays his palm on my shoulder.

“It’s been a long journey, Sergeant. There are gang members out on the roads. We were attacked two days ago.”

“How many?”

“Ten, fifteen,” the man in black says.

The sergeant whistles, looking up at me this time with a little more admiration.

“You need to report to the major’s office.” He whistles and a small, female soldier leaves her post and comes jogging over tous. “Private,” he tells her, “show Mister Moreau where to leave his bike, then take him to the major’s office.”

“Yes, Sir,” she says, clicking her heels together and saluting. Then she smiles at me and beckons for me to follow her.

I peer back at the man in black.

“Thank you,” I say to him.

His gaze flickers over my face. Then he grunts and turns away and I’m left to follow the little figure of the private.

She chats nonstop as I push my bike through into the giant yard, as I park it up, and as she walks me to the door at the side of the towering building. I know she thinks it makes her seem cheerful, trying to convey that she’s fine, but underneath it I can tell she’s nervous, jittery; of me or of the continual booms that rattle the yard I can’t be sure.

I wasn’t sure whether to believe what the man in black told me days ago. Whether he was trying to shit me up, scare the recruit. Now I wonder if there was truth in his words.

“Is that–”

“Battle? Yes,” she says, the smile on her face becoming even more stretched. “There have been ongoing skirmishes up at the border the last few days.”

“Anyone hurt?”

Her smiles stretches wider.

I squint out in that direction, smoke billows in the air and there’s the hint of burning on the wind.

“There’s a fire.”

“Yes, that’s new.” She glances that way, her shoulders hunching. “There’s talk the enemy has some kind of new weapon,” she whispers, then seeming to collect herself, straightens and she points to the door.

The beast bristles, aware of something I’m not.