Deathwatch (The Faded Earth Book 1)(31)
Bowers went still in a way that Eshton had learned meant he was controlling his every reaction. He’d seen it enough times in meetings where the old man had to dance around questions that might reveal the Movement. “He will do the work, Brogan. That’s the last I’ll say on it.”
The meaning was clear. Bowers would undertake any means necessary to ensure the research happened. Not in foolish or wasteful ways—Bowers would not skip ahead to physical encouragement like torture. He had already started with a feather touch by presenting Parker Novak with a young, vibrant woman who served as an example of the sort of person his participation might save. If what amounted to the closest thing the Protectorate had to an innocent wasn’t enough to induce him to volunteer, Bowers would add pressure in any number of other ways.
“Yes, sir,” Eshton said. “I’ll do what I can to make sure he understands the stakes.”
Bowers nodded as if this response were simply his due, and in that he was not wrong. Eshton was his man through and through, if from shared duty rather than the sort of affection legendary military commanders were supposed to engender in their followers. “Good, good. Now, on to the other matter at hand. Do you know what track Miss Park may want to take after indoc? We need to plan ahead carefully. I can set up exemptions and steer the process, but only if I set it up ahead of time. I can’t be seen to have an active hand without raising suspicions.”
“I would assume Science division after indoctrination, sir,” Eshton said. “Though she’ll have to do her year in Defense like the rest of us, so I don’t know why it’s a concern this early.”
Bowers smiled grimly. “Things have changed now that we’ve successfully retrieved the good Doctor Novak. We can’t waste a year having one of our limited number wasting her talent on the wall. That’s why I said I can change things now. Large policy shifts can’t be seen as benefiting a single recruit. I plan to shorten the time requirement for Defense duty considerably. As short as six weeks, then on to specialty training.”
Eshton sucked in a breath. In that moment it became real to him for the first time precisely how serious the situation was. Deathwatch members stayed on the wall for a year for several reasons, prime among them a need for bodies. The other divisions were limited in the number of positions available, so they were snatched up as quickly as they appeared. This meant a constant stream of Sentinels transferring to other divisions, requiring at least a moderately large and stable force to defend the citizenry. To upend that system would create unspeakable chaos and uncertainty.
“I’ll talk to her, make sure she has what she needs to make a good decision,” Eshton assured him. “I thought I’d have more time to show her what the different divisions do, give her options...”
Bowers sighed, a remarkably tired sound for a man who was on the edge of seeing years of planning come to fruition. “I’m afraid not, son. So long as we’re careful, there should be no reason to worry about increased scrutiny. But all it will take is one mine worker mentioning the special project in Brighton while taking a day trip to a larger Rez. One overheard conversation. That will be the thread our enemy can pull to eventually unravel it all.”
Eshton was less naturally inclined to that sort of thinking. He was learning as he went, but his concept of enemies was much more straightforward. “You really think that might happen? Figuring out everything from something so small?”
Bowers stared at him for a few seconds, then laughed deep from his belly. “Oh, son. Sometimes I forget you’re young for your rank. Not only do I think it will happen, I would place a wager for any stakes you can come up with that it will. Whoever is working against a cure is not complacent. We’ve fed out deliberate pieces of misinformation now and then, and they’ve snapped up every single one of them. Acted on them. They are always searching, always listening. It’s only a matter of time.”
Eshton shook his head. “Then what do we do?”
Bowers sat back in his seat and tented his fingers on his chest. “The only thing we can, Brogan. Try to stay ahead long enough to complete the mission, and hope that means we don’t all die in the process.”
Yet Eshton knew the old man well. He understood that the deaths of everyone in the Movement would be seen as a fair price for the prize that came with success. That much, at least, Eshton could agree with.
15
By the end of her first day of indoc, Beck was strongly rethinking her decision not to die.
“Up, Park! Up and move your ass!”
She raised herself from the ground, upon which she had fallen bonelessly after five miles of nonstop jogging. The world swam in front of her, everything going wavy and uncertain.
“Drink,” her instructor, Proctor Reeves, told her cohort. The thirty initiates didn’t need to be ordered twice, each lifting the complicated canteen from their side and drinking a measured dose of water. It was a mouthful and nothing more, the metered volume being part of the training.
Reeves stood in the middle of the dusty track, watching. His expression was far from the inscrutable and stoic neutrality other members of the Watch had as their base setting. It wasn’t anger painted on his face, but derision. As if the cohort was no better than shit on his boot heel.
“You will do this every morning,” Reeves said to the gasping, exhausted recruits. “Every member of the Watch has to be conditioned to survive above all else. For us it’s not just words written over doors. When you’re out there, maybe on your own, having the endurance to run back to safety without armor to prop you up could save your life. Or someone else’s. Who wants to guess why your canteens will only let you drink so much water at a time?”