Iron Empire

Nine: Foreseeable Future

"How long have you three been a part of this squadron?" I asked, confused.

"Eleven months for Kitt and I," Taewi chirped. "Both of us are due for our first reassignment any time now."

"Two years," Alyx replied.

"Two years?" I repeated, despair welling up inside me. "What did you do that made them keep you here for so long?"

"I was cleared for reassignment over a year and a half ago," Alyx shrugged, red hair falling to one side of her shoulder with the gesture. "I asked to stay."

"Why would you stay here?" I probed. "What do you gain?"

The faintest hint of a smile passed across Alyx's lips.

Before she could speak, a voice from behind me interrupted her.

"Sometimes it's not about personal gain, Quinn. You'll learn soon enough."

The sudden salutes from every other member of the squadron told me exactly who was behind me.

I turned, snapping off a salute of my own in a panic I hoped my face didn't show.

Standing before me was a man who appeared to be in his early forties, clad in a blue commander's jumpsuit.

Telbus' tanned skin was pitted with age and his combed brown hair was beginning to show signs of grey, but the fire in his eyes instantly commanded my respect.

"At ease," he stated, a slight southern drawl softening his words. "At ease, and welcome, Mister Quinn. My name is Martin Telbus. It's a pleasure to have you with us for this mission and for the foreseeable future."

As Martin spoke, my gaze wandered slightly. Though at first I didn't notice it at first, something was odd about Martin's right arm. His skin, a warm tan colour, did not match the pale skin on his arm.

"We have a special mission today," Martin continued. "Instead of keeping you on the sidelines, you four have an important role in this battle."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Mallet had assigned squadron seven to a position that was integral to our victory in the Moscow Exclusion Zone. In doing so, she was risking the entire battle on us working together well—Martin was risking his life!

"Uh—" Taewi began, mischievous grin suddenly absent.

"Hell yeah!" Kendrick cheered.

"Yeah," Commander Telbus nodded, "that's the reaction I was hoping for."

Noticing my silence, Martin gave me a quizzical look before following my gaze.

"Ah," he grunted. "You're probably wondering about it, aren't you, Jackson? The arm, I mean."

I took a step back, genuinely mortified. I hadn't intended for my curiosity to be so obvious.

Commander Telbus took it in stride, smiling faintly.

"It's alright," he chuckled, "sooner or later everyone asks. Unlike Taewi, you didn't ask about it the moment you first met me, so you're better off already."

Taewi spluttered out a protest, much to the amusement of Kendrick and Alyx.

Martin extended his right arm, unfurling his fingers as he did so. He used his left hand to slide his blue sleeve up his bicep, revealing a dull red seam—a scar—that divided his arm a few inches above his elbow.

Martin's pale skin wasn't truly skin—it was synthetic material. With his upper arm uncovered I could see that everything below Martin's elbow—and slightly above it—was a lifelike prosthetic.