Paltronis stood, still as a statue, in the stifling heat. She wore full battle dress, just like the other forty three people stationed on Fedrithus. The commander strutted along their line, inspecting them. Paltronis doubted he had any idea what constituted proper battle dress.
Two weeks on Fedrithus and she was ready to scream. The commander of the base took his duties very seriously. It wasn't his fault he was completely incompetent. Most of the rest of the Patrol staff were just as incompetent. They were those exiled here by stupidity, belligerence, or both. They were the boot scrapings of the Patrol.
Commander Fenniwik knew there was a war. He coped with the news by decreeing battle preparation. They were required to fall out, in full battle dress, at least twice a day, usually with little warning. Fenniwik would then inspect them and hand out arbitrary punishments and rewards.
"Your boots need polished," Fenniwik shouted to a man in the line. "Two demerits. Kitchen duty for the next three days."
He moved leisurely to the next person in line. The unfortunate woman was short and slight. She could barely walk under the weight of her armor and weapons. Fenniwik looked her up and down. She was a clerk who usually did nothing more strenuous than data entry. Paltronis glanced at her. Her face was red. Sweat dripped off her chin.
Fenniwik nodded approval and moved on. Paltronis stared into the distance, bored beyond belief.
"Sergeant Paltronis," Fenniwik finally said in front of her.
She snapped her rifle against her chest. It was stupid, a dangerous maneuver if her rifle had been charged, but Fenniwik believed it was proper and correct. She'd had a few quiet words with the others about not keeping their rifles charged. She would have hated to see someone blow their head off during inspection.
"Sir," she answered when she realized he was waiting for her to respond.
"The troops are looking well," he said. "But there is a war on. Looking good isn't enough. You will lead them in drills. I want all of them in tip top shape."
"Starting when, sir?"
"Starting now, of course, sergeant. Do that running, jumping thing they do at the Academy. I want them in battle shape, sergeant. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." Arguing with Fenniwik was as useful as talking to trees. She snapped another salute at him. "Troops, fall out into march position," she shouted.
There was mass confusion. None of them had ever drilled at marching. They had no idea where to go or what to do. The poor clerk fainted from the heat. At least they had a medic nearby, Paltronis thought sourly.
Fenniwik shook his head. "This won't do, sergeant."
"I'll work on it, sir," she answered. She resisted the urge to hit him on his head. It might knock some sense into him.
"See that you do, or I might have to put you on report," Fenniwik said.
She saluted him, ignoring the rushing and shouting going on behind her. Fenniwik gave her a vapid look that was supposed to be commanding and wasn't. He turned on his heel and marched away, back into the cool interior of the headquarters building.
She turned back to the field. There were three of them down now, passed out from heat. The others were gathering into a very ragged formation.
"Get them inside," she told the medic, waving at the prostrate people on the dusty ground. "Take whoever you want to help you."
"You aren't going to make them drill in this heat, are you?" the medic asked.
"I'm not stupid. We'll assemble in the mess hall, inside where there is plenty of water and it's a bit cooler."
"Disobeying orders again?" He grinned.
"Fenniwik will never notice. Not until he wakes up from his nap." She stepped past the medic. "Listen up!" She waited until most of them were looking at her. "You will assemble in the mess hall in ten minutes. Leave the battle gear in your quarters."
They looked relieved. There was a mass exit towards the barracks. Paltronis watched them go. The medic sent the three sick ones with their friends. He stayed behind, standing near her and studying her.
"You aren't really going to try to make them into soldiers, are you?" he asked.
She shook her head. "They'd never last in a real fight. Except for maybe the brute squad." It was the nickname for the six men sent here because they'd managed to break up every bar on half a dozen worlds. On one shore leave.
"Then what are you planning?"
"Teach them how to stand in parade formation. That should satisfy Fenniwik for now."
"You aren't as bad as they say," he told her as they started walking after the others. "You just look intimidating."
"Maybe I'll teach them hand to hand later," she said.
He laughed and shook his head. "As if you know anything about it."
"That's what I got certified in at the Academy."
"Then I'm glad you're on our side."
"Not Fenniwik's?"
"Watch who you talk to about him," the medic warned. "He may appear incompetent, but he has connections. Just a warning to watch your step. There are rumors about your last post and why you ended up here. Having an affair with a member of the High Command isn't a good career move."
"But it was a lot of fun."
He laughed. He stopped with his hand on the door, keeping her outside where they were alone. "The truth is that you still work for Lowell. Watch your step." He reached for the door handle. It was her turn to hold the door shut.
"Who do you work for?" There was quiet menace in her voice.
"I used to send reports to Lowell. You aren't the only one exiled here."
She pulled the door open. "Thanks for the warning."
"You still work for him."
She shook her head. "I work for Fenniwik now."
"And you hate every moment of it. Do me a favor, Paltronis, take me with you when you leave. I don't want to spend the rest of my life here."
"If I leave, I'll probably have people chasing me."
"I'm not afraid of the Patrol."
"Neither am I."
"Take me with you when you go."
"Why?"
"Because I know the real story behind you and Lowell. Because I want to help. Because I've got connections that could prove useful to you."
"I'll think about it."
She mulled over his offer while she tried to teach the staff of the base how to stand in formation. She left the whole marching idea for another day. She was going to start by finding out his name. She'd wasted two weeks here already, feeling sorry for herself and waiting for orders that weren't going to come.
She sent them away to shower and dress for dinner. She went alone to her room to think. She had to leave Fedrithus and soon. She wasn't going to do it through official channels. The Patrol was going to leave her here until she died. She had to find another way. She had to find a contact at the port, a ship that could get her somewhere more useful. Maybe that was what the medic was hinting at. Maybe he could get her a way off Fedrithus.
And then what? She couldn't go back to Linas-Drias and Lowell.
She could find Dace and the Phoenix Rising. Chances were Dace would need her help sooner rather than later. The fact that Beryn was crew on the ship made it all the easier to decide. She'd give it another week. And then she'd turn in her resignation and leave Fedrithus and the Patrol.
With or without the proper approval, she was leaving.