The following morning Lara opened a suitcase of her clothes and folded back the layers until she revealed her deep blue dress uniform. She drew it out slowly and set it on the bed, standing over it. “Deep breaths.” She muttered to herself. She dressed in a pair of pleated blue trousers with a heavy black belt, drawing it tight around her waist. The jacket was too large now but it would have to do. Her hair was tied tightly into a flawless bun at the nape of her neck, allowing space for her beret to be worn. In the mirror a stranger stared back and she shivered.
“Lara! Coffee in the pot, I’m off.”
“Thanks!” She called, not taking her eyes off the woman in the mirror. Hesitantly she touched her neck where a scar, still a livid red, ran across her pale skin. “You’re strong.” She whispered, but the mirror woman didn’t believe her.
The base was busy for a Monday, she weaved her way through the crowded yard keeping her head down, not wanting any attention. Her pulse was racing by the time she got into the cool corridors, their flickering lights and walls lined with pipes and wires so familiar. She took a moment to duck into a doorway, breathing hard, trying to lengthen each breath, trying to stay calm. “If I can look calm, strong, people will believe it.” She told herself before steeling herself to walk back into the corridor. Control was a hive of activity, the doors hissed open before as her feet took her from the gritty, concrete floors of the main base to the plush carpets of its centre. Inside she headed for the desk where three immaculately dressed woman talked quickly into headsets, she waited patiently until one of them looked up.
“Yes?” Lara saluted.
“Lara Daniels, I was called to report to Sergeant Drake?” The woman nodded and her fingers flew over the keyboard, she hesitated then gave a curt not.
“He’s in office 9 down the hall to the left, I buzz through so he knows to expect you.” Lara saluted again and removed her beret, smoothing her hair down and tucking it under her arm. She walked slowly, aware that she felt exhausted already, at the end of the hallway a door opened and a man stepped out, looking her way. He waited until she reached him.
“Miss Daniels?” She saluted and he smiled slightly, offering her a hand.
“Sergeant Drake.” She shook his hand and knew that he would feel the slight shake that her hands always had now.
“Come in and have a seat. I understand you have only just been discharged from St Margaret’s infirmary?” She nodded, sitting down in the soft leather chair opposite his desk. He tapped a few buttons on his computer and read something, then gave a nod. “Right…I understand that the past six months has been hard for you and I apologise for this but we need to update your record with us so that we know what you can do now.” She nodded and dropped her gaze, panic rising up slightly. “Please take all the time you need.” His voice was gentle but his expression very serious, when she didn’t speak he tapped at his keyboard again. “Would you like me to tell you the most recent records we have?”
“Yes please sir.” He ran a finger down his computer screen.
“We have it written that you were part of patrol seven, deputy to…Samuel Phillips.” She shivered at the name. “Who was in fact…your common law husband?” She nodded, lacing her hands tightly together in her lap, squeezing them together, focusing on the sensation. “On the…seventeenth of October last year we lost all comms with your patrol, it is understood that you came into contact with Leshan forces in the small hours of that day.” She nodded again, meeting his eyes for a second, he could see the tension outlined in her body and cleared his throat, looking back to the screen. “In the patrol that day were also Kieran Miles, Amy Reed and Joseph Marks…along with you they are the sole survivors of patrol seven bringing the casualties to six to include Samuel Phillips.” She nodded.
“We lost Sam, Lucy and Ed Gregory, Liam Trent, Paul Gant and Will Forest.” Her voice was steady and he leant his elbows on the desk, watching her.
“May I record your account?...that way I can listen instead of type?” She nodded and took a deep breath.
“We ran into a party of I’d guess twenty Leshans, they were moving in jeeps, they outmanned and outgunned us by 2:1…Sam went down straight away, it was quick and it was bloody. They divided out patrol and the survivors you mentioned and myself were separated, I made the call to get them out. It had gone too sour.” She looked down at her hands and unlaced them slowly, pain flooding them where she’d squeezed the blood out of them. She swallowed, nausea flooding her senses. “I moved them to a mineshaft that we were familiar with, at the time I believe the Leshans were ignorant to it’s existence…then I went back alone.” She stopped and closed her eyes for a second. Drake got slowly to his feet and went to a side-board, pouring her a glass of water and a glass of whisky. He set them down before her and she nodded, sipping the water before continuing. “It was carnage. Nothing I could do. We laid low until dusk then moved out as fast as we could, I drove them hard and fast and we reached Tanard before first light. It’s hard to recall…I believe I did another patrol…” He checked his screen.
“Patrol nine, deputy to…”
“Luke.” She finished nodding. “Then the funeral rolled around…Sam’s that is. I uh…broke down, the honest truth sir, is that I went to bed for three months. Didn’t leave my flat.” He nodded. “Then I went into the care of Luke and Joe, they put me in the infirmary and I was released yesterday.” She looked up and he pushed the whisky towards her, she took it with both hands, trembling and drained it with a grimace.
“That tallies with the other reports…thank you.” She looked up with a shrug. “Miss Daniels we are in a difficult position now. Your skill set is one we cannot risk losing or not using for that matter. There are few soldiers with us now that have been here for so long and have seen as much action as you.” He looked back to his computer.
“Sir I can’t return to full action at the moment.” She said quietly, he held up his hands.
“Of course…would you be prepared to consider it in the long run?” She met his eyes and nodded slightly, gritting her teeth.
“Yes sir.” He handed her a form.
“Good, I want to put you in as a sort of mentor in the meantime.” She down at the form. “It is in it’s early days but we are beginning to find that some Leshan deserters or even prisoners are wishing to join us and fight for our forces. Obviously we cannot allow them to do this without close observation, the risks are too high, but with a mentor…” He indicated the form.
“I’d be in charge of this…Jayliss Portry?” He nodded. “Who is he?” Drake grinned.
“He has been in our prison for…three years, he is…was a commander but he deserted when he witnessed the burning of the base at Wishfell and has been helping us for some months now with how to tackle Leshan forces. He has requested to do more for us, in the field but we have been unable to find anyone to mentor him…someone with the skills needed to handle any possible problems from someone like him.” She unclipped the photo of the man from the top of the form and studied it. “You may meet him initially and call me within the day, if this is not something you can do then I will assign you to the desk, satellite observations, monitoring Leshan movement and so on…” He got to his feet. “I must make it clear that if I do not hear from you or you do not report for duty in whichever capacity you decide upon you will find military police at your door Miss Daniels.” She got to her feet with a nod and saluted. She could feel a dull ache in her chest, her heart rate far too fast and her head spinning. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He added, sounding far away.
“Thank you sir.” She mumbled before making her way out of the command centre and back into the cool corridors of the base. She tucked herself into an empty training room as soon as she found one and fumbled at her tie, ripping it off and loosening her jacket and shirt with trembling hands. “Get a grip.” She gasped, leaning back against the cool wall and dropping her head, sucking in deep even breaths. She raised her hand, still gripping the form and looked again at the photo. How could this work?
