Gears of War Read online

  Kait, tiny and—though it was tough to admit to herself—quite terrified, stepped closer to the center of their camp as Reyna angled herself toward her chosen target. She backed into her father, as both parents instinctively put Kait between them. Protective, even when teaching her to survive.

  “Dad,” Kait whispered, gripping the leg of his trousers. He had his own machete in hand by then, and spared a glance down at her. He put one arm in front of her, easing her back behind him.

  “When there are no good options,” Gabe said, “start with the one least likely to get you killed. Work up from there.”

  They moved at the same moment, but in very different ways. Reyna darting out, blades slashing, going for the beast whose eyes were highest from the ground, and who made the most menacing growl. Gabe, by contrast, suddenly kicked out. He’d shifted a log from the fire onto his foot, and his motion sent it flying, a trail of sparks and embers in its wake, into the face of the nearest animal.

  Without hesitation he threw his machete at another. A small one. Timid. Already backing away. It fell with a yelp. Before Kait could even gasp, her father had drawn an old pistol from his rucksack and fired a shot into the air. The deafening sound sent the rest of the animals scurrying back into the darkness.

  All save two. The one at which Gabe had thrown his blade, and the leader. Reyna stood over that monster, now just a pile—a frighteningly large pile—of gray fur and limbs in the dirt, blood pooling around it.

  “See?” Reyna asked.

  “See?” In the same moment her father asked the same.

  * * *

  Funny, Kait suddenly thought, how each of them had seen their tactic as the only option. Which proved they weren’t the only options. And each had, in their own view, made the right choice. Or, rather, the “least wrong one.” She hadn’t been old enough to spot this contradiction then.

  She’d just marveled at them both.

  Not long after that, Gabe had passed on, and so it was Reyna’s teachings that eventually became ingrained in Kait Diaz. For better or worse, she was her mother’s daughter.

  “I can’t help you, Jinn,” Kait said. “I’ll give you the armor back, if you need me to, but after learning what your orders did to JD at Settlement 2, I’m not interested in being ‘Corporal’ Diaz. I’d appreciate it, by the way, if you stopped ‘accidentally’ calling me that.”

  She turned away then, figuring there was no need to wait to be dismissed. Kait walked through Jinn’s gleaming office, bare feet making a slapping sound on the clean floor, leaving a second trail of mud and grit. She made it to the door before Jinn called out to her, stress evident in her voice.

  “Do you plan to leave before he wakes up?”

  Kait stopped dead, the door handle grasped tightly in her fist.

  “It wouldn’t be ideal,” Jinn added, more calmly, “but if I can’t have you acting as official COG ambassador, could you still be an independent voice? As we both agreed, getting people here is the important thing. The rest can be sorted out later.”

  Hackles raised and blood in her ears, Kait wanted nothing more of this verbal swordfight. She left without answering.

  But she knew Jinn was probably right.

  * * *

  By the time Kait strode into the vast lobby of Government House, most of the mud had shaken loose from her uniform. She took a little bit of perverse pleasure in imagining the cleaning efforts that would result from her visit here today.

  Yet as she crossed the great chamber she saw that the floor had already been cleaned. A little robot with a broom attached to an articulated arm rolled slowly along one wall, scooping up the last remnants of the mud she’d left on the way in.

  Ringed with great pillars that lined an inner space lit by shafts of golden sunlight streaming in through a glass ceiling, the space never failed to cause the breath to catch in her throat. Kait tried to keep her eyes forward this time, and found it nearly impossible.

  “Ms. Diaz?”

  The voice came from off to her right somewhere. A deep, sonorous voice. One she didn’t recognize and yet felt she’d heard before. Turning, she slowed, then stopped. In the shadow between two pillars was a man. He sat in a wheelchair, yet even half-hidden in darkness he somehow gave off an air of strength.

  “Do I know you?” Kait asked.

  He wheeled forward, slow but steady. The man was very old, but sat straight in his chair. He wore a uniform that seemed practically covered in medals.

  “We haven’t met,” he replied, “but I knew your father. A long time ago.” As Kait stood in stunned silence he wheeled over to her and held out a hand. “Colonel Hoffman,” he said. “Victor Hoffman. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Kait.”

  It took her a long second before she remembered to reach out and take the offered hand.

  “I wonder,” he said, “if you could spare a few minutes and wheel me around the plaza?”

  5: A DECORATED RELIC

  She pushed Colonel Hoffman’s chair out onto the great plaza in front of the government building, easing him down the steps one at a time. He pointed toward a park off to one side, and soon they were among trees and fishponds, rather than the bustle of the city.

  The park was dotted with war memorials. Some were old, made of stone long since blackened by mold and city air. Others were new, gleaming and golden. Hoffman seemed to ignore them, content to be pushed until they reached a great flowering tree at the very back of the park. There was a bench beneath it.

  “Here’s fine,” he said, pointing to a spot beside the bench. Kait could see the patches where his chair’s tires had crushed the fallen leaves in the spot, and wondered how much time the legendary soldier spent sitting here.

  She hesitated, unsure if her duty was done and she should leave him to it, but after a second he inclined his head toward the bench.

  “Sit with me for a while?”

  She sat, and looked around. In this place it was as if the city didn’t exist. The trees, the undulating hills of the park, and an outer wall along one edge: all combined to block any sight of the great metropolis around them. Even the sounds were largely muted. It was impossibly peaceful, she thought. More so even than Baird’s private grounds.

  “I’d heard you were here, in New Ephyra,” Hoffman said. “Been wanting to meet you, but our paths hadn’t yet crossed. This is a happy coincidence, running into you like this.”

  “Sorry,” Kait replied, feeling somewhat disarmed by the genial man. “I just came from a meeting with the First Minister. Don’t take it personally, but I’m guessing this is no coincidence.”

  Hoffman put a hand over his heart. “Honest truth, Ms. Diaz—and the only thing I’ll take personally from that accusation is some pride in the idea that you think I’m still important enough for Mina Jinn to put me into the field.” He grinned at her. “The sad truth is I’m barely tolerated around that building anymore. A relic, but a decorated relic. None of them can quite find it in themselves to ask me to leave.”

  “I doubt that,” Kait replied, then she quickly added, “the ‘barely tolerated’ part, I mean. Try being an Outsider.”

  He chuckled at that, and Kait smiled in spite of herself.

  “How’d you get all covered in mud?” he asked suddenly.

  Kait grimaced. “Helping Damon Baird perfect a new COG training course.”

  The war hero stared at her now, his gaze suddenly brimming with sly intelligence.

  “No offense, but that doesn’t sound like a typical Outsider activity.”

  “You’ve got me there.”

  He smiled again, and it seemed a bit sad. “Mind if I ask what you were meeting with the First Minister about?”

  A trio of King Ravens flew high overhead just then, their engines whumping in unison. Kait glanced up, glad for the sudden distraction. It gave her a moment to think. She decided, as the helicopters passed out of view, that she wanted to trust this man.

  “She wants me to help convince the Outsiders to come he
re,” she replied. “For their protection.”

  “And?”

  Kait glanced at him, impressed.

  “Let me guess,” he said, before she could answer. “She wants you to make the title of ‘Corporal’ official first.”

  “How’d you know about…”

  “I spend a lot of time being a nuisance in the records department,” Hoffman said. “It’s the one office left that really tolerates me being around. They deal in history, and I am history—Special Forces—so it works out well. I had a high-level security clearance, before I retired.”

  Sensing more, Kait waited.

  “I looked you up,” he said. “Well, I looked Gabriel up. I check in on your father once in a while, always curious about whatever happened to him. Then, a few weeks back, to my considerable surprise, there was a new file with the name Diaz on it.”

  Kait didn’t know what to say about that. It shouldn’t be a surprise, she supposed, that they had a file for her, but it still grated. Of course they had a file on her father. She wondered why she hadn’t sought it out before.

  “Why would you be checking his file?” she asked. “It’s not like there will be any new entries.”

  “Only knew him while he was in the COG,” Hoffman said. “After he left… well, details become scarce.”

  “He never talked about it much,” Kait said. “The COG part of his life. I only knew him as an Outsider.”

  Hoffman shifted, and there was a sudden brightness in his eyes. He’s been hoping for this, Kait realized.

  “Then perhaps we can educate one another,” he suggested. “Put together the whole picture.”

  “Wait… so the file doesn’t have anything on my father after he left the COG?”

  “No comment.”

  Unable to help herself, Kait raised her eyebrows. “That’s a… loaded answer.” She tried to remember what she knew about Hoffman, and drew a blank.

  “Tell me, Kait. What do you know of your father’s career in the military?”

  A sound caught her ear that moment. Somewhere beyond the park’s wall, a vehicle puttered down the avenue. An older model, its gas-powered engine sputtering with each change of gear.

  * * *

  “There,” Gabe said. “Let’s give that a try. Reyna?”

  Kait glanced from the grease-smeared hands of her father to the strained face of her mother. He was leaning over the engine of an old, derelict truck they’d come across. She was in the cab, dutifully turning the key whenever another attempt was made to fix the ancient engine.

  Kait darted the yards between the engine and the driver’s door. She hopped up onto the step there, placed her tiny hands on Reyna’s leg, and watched as her mom tried the engine once again.

  The machine seemed to cough, and cough again… and then it made a noise that sounded to Kait like an animal laughing, before Reyna finally let the key go. She rocked her head back into the seat cushion.

  “It’s hopeless, babe. Can we forget it already?”

  Kait was already back in the dirt, running to the front of the truck, around its headlight, and climbing onto the front bumper to be beside her father.

  “Hold that,” he said, pointing to a hose that connected to seemingly random points on the engine. The rubber was brittle between her fingers.

  “Feels like it’s going to crack,” she said.

  “It very well might. Time and exposure to the elements will do that.”

  Kait nodded, thinking she probably understood, or at least fairly sure she’d work it out later before they fell asleep.

  It was their third night out from Fort Umson. Three nights to go. This was her parents’ idea of a vacation. Walk off into the woods with no map or supplies, until someone got too hungry to go on—Kait, in other words—then they’d figure out how to survive the return journey.

  That Kait had managed to go three days without complaining of hunger was something of an achievement to her father. He’d positively beamed when she’d finally asked if they could hunt, or find some berries. Reyna had been… Kait didn’t know the right word. It wasn’t quite disappointment, but something close to that.

  “How did you learn to fix these?” Kait asked. It seemed an innocent enough question, but her father froze for a moment. Gradually he began to fiddle with a loose bundle of wiring again. The words came only after a long time spent in silence.

  “Before I met your mom,” he said, “I was in the military. Worked in something called the motor pool. Fixing vehicles a lot like this one.”

  “I thought you were a soldier?”

  “Just because someone’s in the military, doesn’t mean they’re a soldier. There are all kinds of jobs to do in the Army.” He gestured. “Okay, let that go. Hold this one now, but don’t touch that metal bit, it’s hot.”

  Kait adjusted her hand as instructed.

  “Was Mom in the military, too?”

  At that her father laughed. “No, no. Definitely not.” He paused, considering her. “Though, ironically, she acts more like a soldier than I do, sometimes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This truck, for example.” He raised a hand that was smeared entirely black now, and gestured to the engine. “Reyna sees this truck and thinks, ‘It’s not part of the plan. Let’s keep moving.’ Once something is decided, it’s decided. Whereas I…”

  He used a knuckle to rap on the underside of the hood.

  “Again!”

  This time Kait didn’t move to watch her mom try to start the truck. She had an important job, and wanted to hear the rest of what her dad was telling her.

  The cough was the same, but then it turned into a low, even hum. The engine started this time.

  “Whereas I…?” she prompted.

  “Whereas I saw this truck and thought, ‘Hmm, maybe change the plan. Improve it. Redo it.’” He eased the hood shut with far more care than the old vehicle needed, and rubbed his hands down the front of his shirt, leaving two dark smears.

  “Most of the soldiers I knew followed the plan.”

  “Not you?”

  “Not always,” he replied, guiding her to the cab. “Most of the time I was the one making them.”

  * * *

  “He was in the motor pool,” Kait said, as the memory faded.

  “The motor pool,” Hoffman repeated, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

  “Is that—” Kait started, then steeled herself for what the answer might be to this question. “Is that a lie?”

  “No.” Hoffman shook his head. “Not exactly.” He seemed about to say more, but his hesitation turned into a pause, then a silence. She waited a while, then decided maybe a change of subject was in order.

  “What do you know about the time after he left?”

  Glad of the segue, he brightened a little. “Bits and pieces, really. I know he left with Reyna, and they became Outsiders, though that term wasn’t used back then.”

  “Oh? What did they call them?”

  “The Stranded,” Hoffman said. “All those who couldn’t reach Jacinto Plateau in time were called that, at first.”

  Kait marveled at the subtext behind that statement. “Stranded” was a term for someone who needed help, or rescue. It said a lot that this term morphed into “Outsider” over time.

  He went on. “There were reports, after that. People saying they’d run into him at one place or another. Sometimes chance encounters, sometimes because the Outsiders had raided their supplies. The last thing I heard was that he’d passed on.”

  “Rustlung,” Kait said, and she shivered involuntarily. That was a part of her childhood she rarely visited.

  “I… I’m very sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” she assured him. Something passed across his wizened features at that. Her words had been automatic, pure politeness, but now she wondered if she’d made a mistake in saying them.

  “And Reyna?” he asked.

  A coldness settled over her like a shawl.

  “Gone now, too.
The Swarm.”

  Hoffman winced. His rigid posture seemed to drain of its strength, as the man’s shoulders slumped.

  After a long pause he asked, “What of Gabe’s brothers?”

  Kait thought she’d misheard. “Oscar, you mean? He only had one brother.”

  “Yes, of course.” The Colonel raised a hand slightly, flustered. “Oscar.”

  “He’s still kicking around,” Kait said. “Up north, with a new village. Our village was… the Swarm…”

  Hoffman nodded, and an impatience entered his manner now that hadn’t been there a minute before.

  “Can you tell me something about my father?” she asked, hoping to put him at ease again. “From before he met Reyna, I mean? What was he like?”

  “Ahh, well…” he started, then squinted slightly as he seemed to gather his thoughts. “You probably think of him as someone who left the COG. Went rogue to start an Outsider village with his wife. Something like that?”

  She shrugged. He had it exactly, but admitting so—knowing he was probably about to contradict it—made her feel naive.

  “Your father…” Again a pause. This was a man who’d dealt with secret operations for most of his long career, she realized. That fact alone made Kait wonder if the pause was the real story here.

  “Your father was a brilliant man,” he continued. “Always even-tempered, always thinking. Never knew a Gear who could adapt so quickly to a situation, and make something out of nothing, as well as Gabe Diaz. A master tactician, your father.”

  “Wow,” she said. “And all that in the motor pool? Damned impressive.” She regretted the sarcasm almost as quickly as she gave it. He threw her a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth ticking up slightly in a mischievous grin.

  “Well,” he said, “I need to be getting back. I grow tired more easily now than when I was your age. Or twice your age, come to think of it.”

  “Can I assist—” she offered, disappointed that he wasn’t going to tell her more. Kait tried to think of something she might say to prompt him, but he spoke up quickly.