When we return to the training center, it's a strange homecoming, very subdued. Springer and I spent most of the drive in contemplative silence, which carries over into our arrival and subsequent unpacking. There is no aura of celebration, though I suppose there ought to be having completed our first assignment in the field.
Bram comes into our room as we are cleaning and putting away our equipment. "Congratulations on the successful completion of your first assignment." He looks at both of us, oozing sincerity. I feel a little queasy hearing it. "Your work was exceptional, and I hear from the other teams that you were both professional and efficient."
Springer straightens from his crouch on the floor and walks to Bram, holding out his hand. "Thank you, Commander." They shake hands, both smiling, though I know Springer's grin is fake.
I take my cue from Springer and extend my hand, ready to show appreciation for a compliment that feels wrong. Bram's firm grip engulfs my hand, warm and disturbingly familiar. "You are on your way to a successful career as a Pathfinder, Enora. Keep up the good work."
"I will do my best, Commander." I look in his eyes as I say this, wanting to see some glimpse of the boy I knew, the one who would've been horrified by the deaths of children in the name of preserving peace. But there's nothing, only a sincere belief in our righteous defense of society. I can't help the sinking sensation in my heart.
"Enjoy a well-earned respite this afternoon. I will see you both soon for your next assignment." He nods and walks out the door. The room is silent for a few moments as Springer, and I just stare at the empty doorway.
I hear Springer clear his throat. "Let's finish up, and then you can have some downtime."
Though a part of me wants to, we don't talk about what happened. That room. Who was there. How young they were. We don't talk about it, and perhaps that's best, but it isn't. Not really.
So I just nod and get back to work.
Normalcy returns for a few days as Springer and I resume our exercises. The repetitive nature of the tasks I perform allows me to distance myself from the events in Brigford. I know better than to bring them up, so I smother the feelings and pretend I'm still one of the good guys.
We receive a summons four days after returning. I am ready for it. Springer had indicated it would likely happen within a week. So it is with no surprise that we walk into Bram's office and hear him say, "I'm happy to let you both know that your advancement for full-time fieldwork has been approved."
I try to put on an acceptable expression as Bram turns to me. "Enora, this is your opportunity to show the DMC what you are capable of. Success in this role has many benefits, including better housing and food as well as increased credits for yourself and your family members."
It's hard to see the downside in this advancement when it means my parents will be better off. I know how much they struggled over the years. Each time I call lately, I hear the effects of better housing and more water credits in their voices. While the cost of this is high, I know I can do it for them. It only hurts a little to smile and respond to Bram's explanation. "I appreciate your faith in me and won't let you down."
Springer adds his own comment, solidifying my part in this. "Enora has proven herself already, and I am sure she will advance quickly to improved status, Commander."
"Very good." Bram reaches out and shakes our hands before we leave. Each encounter is like this now, so formal and devoid of feeling. It's hard for me to stop comparing my interactions with Bram to how it used to be. I don't know that I'll ever really get used to who he is now. I'm not sure that I really want to. As I walk out of the room, I try to ignore the fact that I have agreed to kill people in exchange for a nicer bed and better food. I'm not entirely successful.
It's hard to meet Drake's eyes when I encounter him that evening. I see his face split into that smile that I've missed, but it quickly falters when he looks at me as I try valiantly to paste a smile in return. Seeing him makes it too easy to lose my grip on my emotions and break down. So I hold up my hand to block his progress when his eyes look worried, and his arms begin to open in an offer of embrace. I shake my head and silently plead with him, begging him to help me keep up my façade so that I don't break down. I see him mouth the word, later? And I nod.
But when later arrives, I find myself unable to let go of the waves of emotion that I have locked inside myself. Drake asks me quietly to explain what happened, but I shake my head, fearing that I won't be able to stop if I let it out.
"I can't, Drake, I just…" my head shakes my denial, and I rest my cheek against his chest.
I feel his arms go around me, and I sink into his warmth, letting my worry go and focusing on the present. In the end, I don't tell him anything. I find that I just can't speak the words. It would make it too real if I utter them, and I need to lock up those thoughts and memories, or I know I will find myself lost or crazy.
The next day Drake is sent off on his assignment, and I find a measure of relief in this. It is just too hard to bottle it all up when we are together, and I don't want to face it. Like a door, I close that experience, don't think about it, and decide to throw myself into the training that Springer and I are completing, putting all of my energy and focus into learning about the new devices I will need to master. I know that it is a fragile peace that I feel as I focus on our work and that soon enough, I will be put to another test.
"You're pretty damn good. You know that?"
Springer's compliment surprises me, and I find myself smiling with a measure of pride.
"Thanks."
We have just finished our training for the day and are packing up our equipment before heading back to our common areas. I'm particularly cautious with the new scanner I have been working with. It enables me to scan an enclosed space and add it to a mapping file data bank. When I put each data scan together, I have a complete schematic of an underground area. Springer has taken me to various locations below ground level, areas I never knew existed, as their entry points are restricted. As I continue to collect and store my gear, I feel Springer's eyes on me and turn to catch him looking, surprised when he doesn't try to disguise his stare.
"What?" I ask in a somewhat accusing tone.
He shrugs. "Nothing." I see him mull over his next comment. "Want to take a walk for a bit?"
"Sure."
We head out of the building and toward the perimeter fence, where a guard is standing at a side gate. I turn my head to look at Springer, silently questioning why he isn't slowing, and then find the guard nodding and opening the gate. After training exercises are over, I am a bit stunned to find that we can just walk out. As we pass through the gate, I can't help turning my head to make sure the guard doesn't suddenly come to his senses and begin to chase us down, but he is simply closing the gate, his attention on something else.
From the corner of my eye, I see Springer smirk. "What, did you think he was gonna tackle us to the ground or something for trying to escape?"
"You mean we can just walk out whenever we want?"
Springer grins. "Well, perhaps you can't yet, but, yeah, I can pretty much leave when I want. Come on, let's head up there."
Twenty minutes later, we find ourselves on the top of a rocky hill overlooking the grounds. We sit in silence for a time, just being there, no need to fill the quiet with idle chatter. As my body begins to relax, I feel awash in bittersweet memories. My eyes sting with tears as I remember another hill, in another time, with another warm arm gently brushing against mine. Things are so much different now than when Bram and I used to sit together, dreaming dreams and sharing secrets.
Springer clears his throat as if giving me time to collect myself from my apparent nostalgia. "I know it's hard, Enora, but you've gotta hang in there."
It's like he can cut through all the bravado and bullshit, like an arrow that deftly pierces the heart through a chink in armor. I don't stop the tears that have pooled from falling. I know he won't judge me, and frankly, this is the only place where I can just let out my misery. He lets me be for a time, just sitting quietly while I pull myself together. My tears eventually run their course, and I let them dry in the hot breeze, making pale tracks through the inevitable dirt on my cheeks.
"How do you do it, Springer? I mean, how do you just forget the horror and go on?"
"It doesn't ever leave me, Enora. I mean, it's not like I can simply shut it all away and never think about it." He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "I see their faces every night. I think I will always see their faces, and maybe it's better that way. What kind of person would I be if they meant nothing? What would it make me if I could just walk away and never give it a thought?"
Springer's face is turned away from me, gazing into the distance though I don't think he really sees the landscape ahead of him. "I guess I take them with me because they are always there, all of them. More than you even know."
He swivels his head to look me in the eyes, and I see the aching remorse buried in their depths and wonder how I could ever have believed that the ghosts of his past weren't there, lurking just beneath the surface.
He reaches up and brushes strands of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
"I don't forget, but I can lock it away and go on because that is what I need to do. That is what you need to do. People like us don't get to choose. We don't have that luxury. So you just need to get through it, you got it? We just need to get the job done."
His eyes bore into mine as though he can force his words into my head so that I will capitulate and accept my fate, but I struggle against his coaxing arguments, unable to give in fully quite yet, though I understand his reasoning.
"I'm not there yet, Springer." Perhaps I can learn to acquiesce in time, but I'm feeling too raw, and it feels too wrong.
"I get it, but you need to get your head wrapped around this. It's you and me, okay? We're a team, and I've gotta know you're going to be there for me when I need you. Like I am here when you need me."
I don't respond as what he says sinks in. But my muscles relax just a bit, and I know he has marked this release of tension.
Springer sinks back onto his elbows, accepting my silent perspective and not wanting to push me to consent to his. It is an easy truce. He knows I'm not going anywhere, knows I'm too much of a coward to put up any real fight. The lion inside me wants to roar in revolution but is trapped just under the surface of my timid shell, not strong enough to emerge and release its wrath.
After a few minutes, I ask, "How old are you?"
Springer chuckles. "What do you think?"
"Twenty?" He doesn't seem that much older than me, though I can see some hard living stamped on his face.
"Good guess. I'm twenty-two."
I watch his eyes drift to the sky, tracking the black outline of a bird. "Did you have another Pathfinder? I mean, before me?"
"Yeah."
I wait for him to go on, but he doesn't elaborate. "Did something happen?"
He leans forward and picks up a rock, gently tossing it from one hand to another. "We had been a team for about a year when he was ambushed. I was too far away to help."
"Oh." This is the first time I have really thought about any physical danger I may be in when working in the field. To me, it has always been Springer taking the big risks. "I'm sorry." I don't know what else to say. Silence descends,. We let time drift until the fading light signals it's time to go back.