Forge of War (Jack of Harts 1)

By Medron Pryde

In 2205, we learned the answer to one of the oldest questions of all time. Are we alone? They brought medicines with them that nearly wiped out diseases, and extended the human lifespan into the centuries. They helped us study advanced technologies, and expand our colonies hundreds of lightyears from Earth. It was a golden age that many thought would never end.

Jack grew up in a world at peace, his only interests, partying and girls. But when a sneak attack killed millions of Americans, and wiped out almost everything and everybody Jack knew, he volunteered to serve and get some payback. But the Marines want more than people looking for revenge, and cybernetic partners demand a higher commitment. If Jack wanted to earn his commission as a Marine Corps fighter pilot, he had to let himself be forged into something stronger than he’d ever felt the need to be. A man willing to live up to the name of his squadron. A Cowboy.

Historical note: The Marine Corps fighter squadron that is a central part of this story was named in honor of the real life Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 112, the Cowboys. Because of these aviators, and everyone else who has served, I am free to write this story. I will never forget.

First Edition, February 2013
Revised Second Edition, April 2013
Revised Third Edition, November 2016

This novel is offered DRM free so you can view it wherever you want.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Medron Pryde
• Release date: Dec 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370742370

Medron Pryde

Hello, my name is Medron Pryde, and I am the creator of Jack of Harts.Jack of Harts is a place I hope you like. It’s a place where we did things right, where we built a world we would be happy for our children to grow up in. It’s not perfect. There is conflict. But by and large, we made the hard decisions, and we did what needed doing. We made a good world. I know today that stories tend to go much more dark than that, dystopian futures where we have destroyed our world or enslaved our populations. Places where even the Good Guys are more dirty and hairy than they are clean-shaven and happy. Jack of Harts is not like that. It’s not a world where somebody takes a step forward to fix something and gets knocked two steps back. I don’t like those worlds. I don’t want to spend a lot of time imagining them.Jack of Harts is based in many ways on what I grew up wanting. I was raised in a Christian home, told to do onto others as you’d have them do onto you. I watched Bonanza, where the Cartwrights helped anybody who came along needing it. On Superman, I watched the Big Blue Boy Scout (even if he was in black and white) fighting the Bad Guys each week for Truth, Justice, and the American Way. On Quantum Leap, a man lost in time always found a way to make the world he dropped into each week a little bit better. On Star Trek, a bunch of people I liked traveled through the stars to go places that no man had been to before...because it was there. In Battlestar Galactica, Buck Rogers, and Star Wars, the plucky outnumbered heroes came back swinging with a smile, a joke, and a hearty laugh, and they never gave up hope that they could find or build a better world to live in. These are the stories I grew up with. These are what I enjoy, and these live on in my optimism.In Jack of Harts, I try to capture that. The characters of Jack, Charles, and Aneerin, just to name a few, are all people who lived in a world before The War came. When that happened, they aren’t the people who crossed the border to hide from the draft, the people who gave up hope and found a bottle or a needle to hide behind. These are the people who stood up, walked into a recruiting office, and volunteered to defend their ways of life. They may cover it up by saying they’re just in it for the money, or because that person over there just needed taking care of. But don’t let that fool you. They are the best of us, a reflection of the true Big Damn Heroes who grab a rifle, a pistol, and a bulletproof vest (or maybe a fireproof suit) to protect our freedoms and our lives everyday.Jack of Harts is a place where I like to think these people would like what they see. It’s a place I enjoy going to when I write, with people I’d like to share a beer with. I’ll keep it that way. I hope it’s a place you’ll enjoy reading, and I hope you come back each day or maybe each week to read some more.So have a good one, and I hope to see you again.Medron Pryde

Book preview

We all have days when the world changes for us. Those days when we realize that we have to start growing up. It took me a long time to get there, but there was one day when my childhood ended, just as all good things do….

All Good Things

Birds called out, their cries echoing off the early morning water. Mist filled the air, rays of sunshine from above visible to the naked eye. Fish jumped out of the water to feed on bugs, and splashed back down with ripples of water spreading out from them in every direction. A Loon far above tucked its wings in tight and dove straight down into the water, the surface rippling behind it. Jack scanned the water and saw the bird break the surface with a fish in its mouth several seconds later. It shook its wings out, spraying water all over and lifted off back into the air. Jack smiled. Today really was a good day for fishing.

His wrist snapped back, his wrist snapped forward, and a lure whirred through the air to hit the surface of the water with a plop. Jack held the fishing rod in one hand and began to work the reel with the other, bringing the lure back towards the bass boat at the sedate pace a small fish might take on its way through the water. The line went taut, and the lure began to swim away.

Jack smiled, let it swim for a few seconds, and then began working the reel again to pull it back. The lure, or more accurately the fish that had swallowed it, fought back. It fought well, and Jack estimated it at a good ten-kilos. That would make some good eating if it was the right type. He let the fish fight away before reeling it back, fight away some more, and reeled it back in some more. With each round of the conflict, it got nearer the small boat until he could finally see it thrashing in the water just below the surface next to the boat.

A fishnet splashed down into the water, and Jack’s father pulled the fish up into the air, still struggling. They both smiled. A Northern. That would be good eating all right. They immobilized the fish, worked the lure out, and dumped her into the live well in the boat where she had the chance to swim around with the half dozen fellow Northerns already pulled out of the Boundary Waters.

I think that’s enough, his father said and Jack nodded. The fish would feed their family for at least a week. They were a good catch. Jack reeled the lure up to the rod, locked it in place, and stowed the rod in its bin. It would be ready the next time they came out to fish.

Time to gut ‘em? Jack asked.

Yup, his father answered and powered up the small trolling motor to send them towards the nearby island where they always left the guts and heads for the birds.

A thunderclap echoed through the air and they both looked up to see a fireball way up high, probably up near the edges of the atmosphere. Streaks of light speared up, causing more explosions, and plumes of smoke rose from the ground after them to meet more plumes of smoke coming down. Explosions rippled across the sky, and Jack felt the blood run from his face.

Ah, hell, his father cursed and pulled the trolling motor out of the water. He dropped the big outboard down, pulled the cord once, and it roared to life. We’ve got to find cover, he shouted over the growl and revved the motor up.

Jack held on tight as the propellers dug into the water and spun the bass boat around for home. The boat’s nose lifted up out of the water as it picked up speed.

Get in the nose! Jack’s father shouted over the growl of the engine and the rush of the wind.

On it! Jack shouted back and clambered over the ribbing holding the boat together. He made it to the nose and his weight pushed it down towards the water. He held on tight to both sides of the boat as his father gunned the engine again. The nose lifted up again, though not as far as before, and the boat shot over the water, making for home far faster than it normally moved.

Wind blew Jack’s long blond hair back, and Jack would have crowed into it in exaltation if it weren’t for the sky full of fire above them. Jack looked up, wondering who it was. The Chinese? The Russians? It was hard to believe either of them would break the Treaty.

He looked to the west where one of the few orbital structures large enough to see with the naked eye hung in its permanent position over California. He watched explosions march across the sky towards it; missiles stopped cold by the point defense satellites covering the sky above America. But each explosion was closer than the one before it. He looked back over towards the east where the roar of explosions driving down from the sky finally arrived to roll over the growling of the motor.

Jack tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry as a tomb. He met his father’s gaze and saw his own fear mirrored in the far older eyes. There were so many missiles. It couldn’t be the Chinese or the Russians.

He watched the explosions march down past the horizon in the east and licked his lips with a dry tongue. He looked back to the west in time to see the other wave of explosions envelope the yards in orbit.

Yosemite Station was the largest orbital construct built by humanity. Well, the Terran branch at least. He watched, helpless as the place in orbit where the yards hung lit up with explosion after explosion after explosion. It seemed to go on for minutes. Then as suddenly as it started, the explosions faded away. But the rumble continued to vibrate the very world around him. Jack remembered his teachers talking about sound waves traveling slower than light, but he’d never seen or heard anything like this.

He glanced over at the smoke filling the eastern sky, looked back up at Yosemite Station, and tried to swallow at the sight. The yards looked smaller than before. And they were breaking up into smaller pieces before his very eyes. Jack shook his head and brought his gaze back down to the shore the bass boat charged towards.

They got it, Jack whispered. Damn them, they got it. He wished he knew who needed damning. He wondered how many had made it to the escape pods. How many still lived? He sighed and looked back up. He blinked. It looked bigger again. No. It was getting bigger.

Oh frak, Jack said as it clicked. The yards weren’t getting bigger. They were getting closer.

Watch your language, son, his father shouted from behind. Jack winced. How had the old man heard him?

The yards are falling, dad! he shouted back. He felt the boat jerk a little bit and turned to see his dad looking up. He thought he saw his dad squinting.

Are you sure?

Yes.

Frak, his father said too softly for Jack to hear, but he read lips just fine.

Jack wisely refrained from telling his dad to watch his language.

We need to get under cover! his father shouted and twisted the throttle. It was already turned as far as it went and the bass boat didn’t so much as twitch. Damn.

Jack knew there wasn’t anything closer than their house, and their fishing spot was an hour away from that. Of course his father wasn’t the kind to gun the engine like this so it would take well less than an hour to get back.

Jack let out a long breath as another small island shot past them. When the yards hit the atmosphere…he was not going to want to be under them. He held onto the bench and just watched the wind-driven waves part around their boat. Jack let the world go, taking in one breath at a time, and just not worrying about anything he had no power over. All he could do right now was hold on, breathe, and wait. So he waited.

A new light in the sky pulled him out of his meditation and he looked up to see streaks of fire coming down from orbit. Yosemite Station was falling. He hoped no one had survived the attack. Burning was not a good way to die. Not that he could think of many good ways to die, of course. Well, there was always surrounded by a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. As deaths went, that wouldn’t be too bad. But really, Jack planned to live forever. Burning, trapped in the remnants of a shattered space station, on a one way express to the ground was simply not a way he wanted to go out.

Most of the flaming trails burned up and faded away high up in the air. The big ones still burned as they fell below the horizon on their way to California, or maybe Washington. The western States. He hoped they landed in the country. He didn’t want to think about how many people would die if one of those hit a major city, or the ocean. Still, all he could do was watch, so he breathed deeply and let his eyes take in the disaster.

After a time, something began to bother him. He didn’t know what at first, and allowed the back of his mind to ruminate on whatever it was as he continued to sit and watch. The wind continued to beat against his face; the bass boat fell down between waves from time to time, rising back up quickly. Water sprayed up each time, hitting his face and clothing. It didn’t take long for the wind to dry him off again.

Another wave of fire fell down from orbit, and he frowned as he wondered where it was heading. Montana? North Dakota? The back of his mind screamed at him and Jack gasped as the odd feeling finally blossomed into a complete thought. Yosemite Station wasn’t falling straight down towards the earth. It was spreading out to the East before falling. The wreckage would be falling all over America.

Dad! he shouted and turned to look back. "We have to get off the water!"

I know, his dad answered and Jack saw another glimmer of fear in the eyes that met his gaze.

His father already knew. Jack looked away and turned to face west again. The wind beat against him and he licked his lips, watching the land that was their home approach. It did so slowly, too slowly for his fear. No. He breathed deeply and pushed the fear away. He had nothing to do right now. He had no control over where that wreckage landed. All he could do was wait. So he breathed deeply, watched flames and wreckage fall on the Dakotas and western Minnesota, and waited.

Their dock appeared in the distance and the bass boat turned to aim directly at it, engine still growling away. Jack swallowed, eyes flicking up to watch more wreckage raining down in their general direction. The rain of fire was getting way too close for comfort, and the thundering drum once again began to overtake the engine’s roar.

Dad! he shouted, turning to make certain his voice would carry.

I know! his father returned with another worried glance at the sky. We’re almost there!

Jack nodded, faced forward again, and forced himself to relax and breathe. He watched the land approach, each second more quickly than the last. It was an illusion, but he couldn’t help holding on tighter as they closed with the dock at what must be far too fast.

The growl vibrating through the boat died and it shifted as the water grabbed it. The slap of waves ruled now, and he held on even tighter as momentum tried to pull him out of his seat. The bass boat still seemed to be moving far too fast as it approached the dock. Jack’s hands grew white from holding the bench, his feet bracing against the nose, and the water pulled the bass boat down.

It slowed to a stop and gently bounced off the rubber guards on the dock. Jack sprang into action, grabbing a rope and tying it around a piling. He jumped out onto the dock and felt it drop an inch with his weight. He spun around to see his father scrambling up as well, his end of the boat secured. He looked up to see another spray of burning wreckage coming down, closer than any of the others.

Move it! his father shouted over the roaring thunder that proved this was far too close for comfort.

Jack turned and ran towards the house, leaving the dock in less than three strides. He heard his dad behind him and glanced up towards the rain of fire. It was too close. Far too close. He could hear the rumble of wreckage exploding in the distance, far to the west where International Falls lay. He had friends there. He hoped they managed to find cover for a moment before concentrating on running.

Jack vaulted onto the deck, skipping the stairs on the way up, turned the doorknob, and pulled the door open. Another man-made meteor burned towards the ground in the distance. He heard it hit the water and swore as he ran into the house. He had a job to do. Mom! he shouted and ran into the living room. He dropped to the floor and ripped a rug off it, sending it flying onto a couch with a flick of his wrist. He grabbed a ring in the floor and pulled the trap door up hard. Finally, he placed his hand on the panel beneath the door and waited for it to beep, recognizing him as one of the people approved to open it. A click sounded in the hatch and it slid out of the way to reveal a set of stairs.

Mom! he shouted again and looked around frantically. Where was she? His father’s boots banged around upstairs where he was searching.

Jack heard the boots screech to a stop. Then someone shrieked and his father thundered down the staircase. Jack rolled into the bunker, dropped onto the stairs hard, and gasped. He pushed himself onto his feet, and spun to face his father.

His father hit the bottom of the stairs at a full run with his mother hoisted over one shoulder and Jack wondered how many steps he’d skipped on the way down. Get down! his father shouted over the roar of…water…that was getting closer.

Jack took a step back, moving further down into the bunker. He saw the wall of water explode through the front wall of the house and met his father’s gaze. His father dove for the bunker and Jack threw himself further down the stairs to get out of the way.

His father barreled into the stairway a second ahead of the water. The wave hit them, driving them down with a force that crushed the air from Jack’s lungs, and Jack fought to stay awake as he hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Hard. He felt a leg snap and the pain brought with it an odd clarity.

The hatch at the top of the stairs snapped closed. Its emergency systems had recognized the threat and locked it. Water pressed him to the floor, but then began to flow away. The pumps were taking care of the water that pushed them in. He looked around, seeing his mom, soaking wet from head to toe but uninjured. She really was a beautiful woman. He considered that thought, felt the pain in the back of his head, and recognized the symptoms of a concussion. He was going to feel that in the morning.

His mother screamed. His mother ran across the bunker, slipping and sliding through the ankle-deep water still on the floor.

Jack blinked and wished she would stop screaming. It really hurt right around in the temples. He rolled to the side, feeling the bones in his leg shift. That should really hurt too, but it didn’t. Jack considered just how odd it was that he could feel the screams in his temples but not how badly his leg had to hurt, and shrugged the thought away. It should hurt. It didn’t. Shock. Yeah, he was in shock too. That must mean he’d been hurt a lot worse than it felt like he had. It was probably a blessing. He figured he really didn’t want to be feeling all the pain he was in right now anyways.

Come to think about it, he probably shouldn’t be moving right now either. But first he really needed to figure out why his mother was screaming. He could feel that pain real strong. He turned a bit more and looked over to see her cradling his father.

Jack blinked. That looked bad. That water had been awful strong when it smashed his father down the stairs. Yeah. That was real bad. Human bodies were really not meant to bend like that.

His mother stopped screaming and started to sob.

Well, that was an improvement. Jack’s headache started to go away and he rolled over onto his stomach. The water was gone, leaving just a thin film on the floor. The bunker had good pumps. He grabbed a shelf and pulled himself across the floor. His leg shifted in ways that really weren’t right. It was broke real bad. They were going to have to do something to splint it. The med kits were two shelves over. He was going to have to get his mother to get them somehow.

He finally reached his mother and father and put his head next to her lap. He was feeling really tired for some reason. He shifted his head and met his father’s gaze. Good. They were both alive. Well, Jack knew he was still alive. He was in too much pain to be dead. No. Actually, he really wasn’t in any pain at all. But it wasn’t the ethereal lack of pain he would expect in Heaven. It was the I’m in shock and I’m gonna die of blood loss so please get this fixed up real soon kind of pain that was hovering just outside where he could actually feel it.

Not that he was actually going to die of course. When he was younger he could have. But he’d had the Peloran treatments. He could feel his body healing itself already. He was really going to have to let his leg lay straight if that was going to heal right. Maybe he wouldn’t need the splint after all. No. He probably would. It was going to take a long time, and a lot of food, for his body to do all the healing it needed, and there was no way it was going to burn a lot of energy fixing a leg when it had more important stuff to heal. Internal bleeding could kill you a lot faster than a bad leg in most cases, after all. Unless a mountain lion were chasing you. In that case he would probably be questioning which was most important. Running or bleeding?

He blinked and looked at his father. His father smiled back. His father smiled up at his mother. And as Jack watched, he saw his father release his last breath.

His mother screamed again and the headache came back with a vengeance. Jack looked at his father for a very long time, wondering what he should feel. Grief, he supposed. Pain. Yeah, that too. Anger. Yeah. Definitely anger. Once this concussion and all the other stuff got fixed up, he figured he was going to feel all of that. There was something else he was going to need to feel, too, though.

He frowned, trying to get his muddled mind to go through the right thought processes to get to where he needed to be. It was so slow. He was so tired. It was hard to think. Oh right. He had it now. Yeah. He was going to find out who did this. Who destroyed Yosemite Station. Who killed his father. Once he knew that, he was going to kill them. Yeah. That sounded like a really good plan. That would feel real good.

The decision made, he felt a sweet, painless darkness calling and surrendered to it.

When they called for volunteers to fight the Shang, I signed up real quick. I wanted to kill ’em all for what they did. I did real good in training too. A life of swimming and fishing and dancing and playing music makes for real good physical fitness let me tell you. And being Ageless helped too. Of course they wanted me as a pilot. That six weeks changed me good. Real good. I found out what I was made of there. I found out what I wanted.

The Metal in the Man

A dry Texas westerly wind blew dust around the dirt yard in front of the building. A breath of hot morning air scorched down a throat made for much colder climates. He was less than a kilometer from the Gulf of Mexico. And here he was, getting a dry, hot wind from the west. Well, it could have been worse. It could be a wet, hot wind from the east. Or it could be one of those newer winds coming down from the ash-shrouded north. The scientists were warning about Global Cooling due to all the ash in the air. Eight weeks. It was hard to believe that was all that separated him from the life he’d had before.

The United States of America were going to War now. Every State from Alaska to Panama, every Colony from New Washington to Liberty, they were all marching, flying, and sailing to War. It was unimaginable. But here it was. Two centuries of star travel all brought down to a single word. War.

A word that had almost destroyed him. He’d lost his world. His family. He’d lost his will to live. But Julie and Alex had saved him. They’d come home for him and put him back together physically and mentally. He owed them now. He would repay them. Somehow. But first he had to make sure they would stay alive. And that meant volunteering. It meant putting on a good show for the shrinks when he said he was ready. He bet at least one or two of them had guessed it was all an act, but the military needed bodies, and Jack had a primo body if he said so himself.

Boot camp had been the hard part. He had no idea how recruits survived it in the old days. Twelve weeks of Parris Island? No thank you. One week of hundred kilometer marches and an hour to sleep like the dead had been more than enough for him to never, ever, want to go through that again. Ever. For the first time in his life, his body had actually failed him. Almost. He’d missed the three-minute mile mark, but at least he’d crossed the line in the end. That had been humiliating.

And now he was in the heart of the Republic of Texas, possibly the most powerful of the American States. He supposed it made sense. He just wished it wasn’t so hot and dry. It made his skin itch, and his mouth was always parched. He really hated this place. Of course, if things went right today, he wouldn’t have to be here much longer.

There was a War to fight after all, and the Marines needed every pilot they could punch through this abbreviated training schedule yesterday. Literally. News of the Battle of Mars had arrived last night. There was only one, final test to pass and Jack would pilot a starfighter in the ranks of the Republic of Texas Marine Corps. Texas. Jack sniffed raw, dry wind into his lungs and coughed it out again. Well. He would leave soon, one way or the other. There was no need to waste perfectly good ill feelings on a land he was about to get away from.

He turned from the bleak landscape and walked up to the door, to feel cool air streaming out over him. He smiled and looked down at the 40-kilo German Shepherd guarding the door.

Hey, Bruce, Jack said to the older dog, enjoying the cool breeze.

Jack, the dog answered, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth betraying his perpetual amusement. Bruce was an old hand amongst the uplifted German Sheperds, and he still loved laughing at all the young pups wanting to join the Marines. Today’s the day, isn’t it?

Jack gave the dog a feral smile. Yes it is. Today’s the day I get myself a starfighter.

That’s the spirit, Bruce said with a hearty bark. Remember, if you need character witnesses… Bruce trailed off with a leading expression.

Jack laughed at the statement before frowning in thought. Was Bruce more than just a guard dog? That thought made him curious. Are you part of the test?

Bruce barked again in laughter and sat down on his rump, cocking his head to the side. His tongue seemed to hang out even more, giving a truly comical look to the old dog. Certainly a lot more comical than the time he’d seen Bruce running a trespasser off with the full rabid dog act, foaming at the mouth and everything. Bruce smiled at him. "What do you think?"

Jack rubbed his jaw, considering the question with care. Then he smiled back. Maybe.

Bruce answered with another bark of laughter. Get in there. You don’t want to be late because you stopped to talk to an old guard.

Yes, Sergeant, Jack snapped back. He turned for one more glance at the dusty grounds where Bruce’s pack patrolled every morning. They felt…more watchful today. He caught one of them glancing at him. That was Annabelle. She turned away when she caught his gaze and returned to prowling the perimeter. He thought about asking if there was something wrong before shaking his head. The pack wasn’t worried. They were expectant. Of course, this was the day for that.

Go, Bruce barked more sternly.

Yes, Sergeant, Jack answered and turned into the building. You’d tell me if anything bad’s about to happen right? he asked, covering all the bases just in case.

Always, Bruce returned before letting out several amused yips.

Jack considered what was going on with the dogs as he walked into the cool air of the building that had been his home for six weeks. Every day he’d spent eight hours in a single classroom with every candidate in the school, learning everything about modern war equipment and cybernetic intelligences there was to know. He’d also spent eight hours in a training room, alone with the people he was here to impress. Half the time they trained, working together to fly anything from fighters to warships. The other half, he answered questions from knowledge of history and physics to what kind of jelly he wanted on his peanut butter sandwich. Assuming he liked peanut butter sandwiches. Or jelly. They said it was to gain an accurate psychological profile.

And between each class, there had been four hours of nothing. It didn’t seem like much free time, but Corpus Christi was easy compared to boot camp. He had time to eat, to study if he wanted to, to work out in the gym, to sleep, or whatever he felt like. It was four precious hours that were his with no structure at all enforced from on high. The only rule was that they could not leave the perimeter.

That was fine by him. He’d spent most days playing with the dogs. Uplifted dogs weren’t much different from normal dogs when it came down to it. They loved to play fetch, have their tummies rubbed, or get in wrestling matches. Bruce was a wrestler. Annabelle had a favorite ball she loved to chase. Tony had become his best friend, not to mention a constant wet nose, when he found out Jack came to the yard with sugar cubes in his pocket.

He stepped into the classroom that took up the center of the Marine Training Station and filed down the auditorium steps until he reached his row. He squeezed past those already in their seats and sat down in the same assigned seat he’d held for the last six weeks. Then he leaned back in his chair, stretched, and began to study the other Marines.

Like most Americans, every Marine here had taken the Peloran Treatments that first began wiping out most diseases a century ago. Some of them looked as old as their fifties or sixties, and a few could have passed for their teens, showing that they’d been alive when the Peloran made Contact. The first Treatments weren’t as reliable as the modern ones, and slowed or froze the aging process at different ages.

Most were like Jack, twenty-five years of age until the day they died. That was because every single Marine in the room belonged to the smallest subset of Americans who would never age another day in their life. And with that came all the other little side effects. Improved eyesight, superior strength and endurance, quicker reflexes, and intuition. They saw and reacted to threats faster than anyone. They could have been the perfect genetically engineered super soldiers. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on the point of view, most of the people in this room had never enjoyed a good fight. And so they’d pursued normal civilian careers until Yosemite fell and the call for volunteers flooded the United States. Today they were here.

A soft bell sounded and a room full of men and women fell silent. On time to the second, their instructor walked out onto the stage, the chink chink sound of regulation Dress White cowboy boots on the hard wood floor filling the auditorium. The instructor stopped behind the podium and peered out from under the white cowboy hat that topped the uniform of the Republic of Texas Marine Corps. His eyes squinted at the two hundred Marines in the room and he nodded in what might have passed for approval. "I will not lecture you today. Those of you here have passed the written exams and the physical training. I congratulate you. Now listen to me one last time. All of you will be leaving today and going to your next duty station. You will join your fellows as the best riflemen in all the worlds. And some of you will also become pilots. Listen to me now, one last time, and you may change your fate.

"The cybernetic intelligences that you may meet in the next hour are between one hundred and over two thousand years old. They share the memories of every single member of their family. And the newest families have the memories of those that came before. They have spent over two thousand years learning how to be human. Once they pick a partner, a holoform, and a name, they will be human, indistinguishable from any other human you will ever meet in every way that matters.

"If they pick you, they will have chosen to be whatever you need to fight and to live to fight another day, until The War is over for you, one way or the other. Your best friend, your sister, your brother, whatever it is, they will have chosen and accepted that role in your life as your partner. The head of every single cyber family is here, so if you are not chosen here you will not be chosen by any cyber. If you are not chosen, you will not be a Marine Corps combat pilot.

"And that is all. You will be escorted to your training rooms one row at a time and then you will wait. Once everyone has been escorted to their rooms, those of you who have not been chosen by a cyber will be escorted out. Those of you who have been chosen will have a few minutes to get to know your new partner and then you will be escorted out. Those of you who are still on the bubble, this could be a long day. It will be your last test. Convince the cybers to work with you, or you will be escorted out alone. Goodbye, good luck, and get the hell out of my classroom!"

Oorah! the Marines chorused back.

Jack stepped out of his line and into the open door of his training room. The door shut behind him, closing him into the white-walled room, and he sat down in the single chair. He looked at the bare walls for a moment before plugging a crystal encased in clear plastic into the chair’s arm. The computer read the crystal, and a carefully selected playlist of his favorite T&J songs filled the room. Jack smiled, shut his eyes, and leaned back in the chair. It would be several minutes before everybody got into their rooms, so he might as well relax while waiting.

He shouldn’t be so cocky, a female voice he knew very well said five songs later. That was the song about the fast car. Jack opened one eye to scan the room and saw the speakers lined up at the top of the wall were live. Well, two of them were at least. The light above speaker five blinked out. Yup. He’d been right.

"I don’t know. I like his choice in music," a much older female voice that sounded like a nice old aunt said. The light above speaker three came on.

Jack suppressed a smile and shut his eye, listening to the cybers continuing to talk. Cyber Number Five didn’t like him, never had truth be told. She was the crazy aunt that shouted at all the kids for placing a toe on her lawn. Well, maybe she wasn’t that bad, but he’d never liked her either. He was surprised that cyber had shown up here at all. Cyber Three on the other hand seemed interested. Cyber Five was just here to talk the nice one away. Well. He really couldn’t allow that. He was a little disappointed that Cyber Seven and Cyber Four hadn’t shown up. They’d sounded fun. But they weren’t talking so he cleared his throat and entered the conversation.

"You do know I can hear you, right?" Jack asked, opened his eyes, leaned forward, and cut the music.

"You should be more respectful," Cyber Five said in a frosty tone.

Jack sighed. Look, you aren’t here to talk to me. You’re here to stop Three from choosing me. But that’s Three’s decision, so why don’t you just go and find someone else here who will work with you rather than envision stabbing you through the speaker?

Both speakers remained silent and Jack wondered if he’d gone too far. He really didn’t like Five but hoped his interjection hadn’t pushed number Three away. He breathed in and out, holding onto his calm, and waited.

What if I decided to choose you? the voice from speaker five suddenly filled the silence.

Jack smiled. He glanced at the silent speaker three before turning back to Five. I’d throw you back.

Silenced reigned from both speakers for a long time before Five spoke again. Why?

Jack shrugged. When I fish, sometimes I catch Crappie or Bass. I don’t like them so I throw them back. Northerns I like. I keep them. I wouldn’t like you the way you are. And you wouldn’t like me unless you changed yourself so much you probably wouldn’t like you either. So I’d throw you back and we’d both be happier.

The silence lasted another thirty seconds this time before speaker five spoke again. Three has left. I’m your last chance, she finally said. Convince me to choose you or you will be escorted out alone.

Jack swallowed this time, eyes flicking over to speaker three. He licked his lips, wondering if it was true. He wondered for a moment if…no…no. He shook his head. I don’t accept your premise. I don’t think Three is gone. I think you’re testing me. Even if I’m wrong though, it wouldn’t change things. You’re too bound up in rules for you and me to ever work well. We’d be fighting each other as much as the Shang, and that would kill us both dead in the end.

You are correct, Five said. We would fight each other. And we would die. And perhaps that is for the best. But if you will not accept me, I will leave. Goodbye, Jack. Enjoy your escort.

The speaker went silent.

Jack leaned back in his chair and waited for the door to open. When it didn’t after a few seconds, he tapped the crystal and T&J began to sing about their old country home. If he was wrong, he had just gambled everything and lost. No, he hadn’t really gambled at all. He really wouldn’t have enjoyed working with Five. They probably would have been the deaths of each other. But if Three had left already…or if Seven or Four weren’t bothering to monitor this, it would be all she wrote. He shut his eyes and breathed in and out, willing himself to be calm. A minute went by, and a jazz song by the Freddy Reed Band bubbled in the background while the door did not open. Two minutes.

So you think I’m a Northern? Speaker three asked with the tone of a quizzical aunt asking why he’d thought it was fun to toss rocks into the water.

Hallelujah.

Jack smiled as relief flowed through him. He’d played his cards right. He left the music on in the background since the cyber liked it. I think you’re a lot more likely to be one than Little Miss Tightypants over there, he said with a wave towards speaker five.

Three let out a hearty laugh. I will have to tell her you called her that, she continued in a wry tone. After you are safely out of her reach, of course.

Of course, Jack echoed with a chuckle. I’m glad Five was lying by the way.

Five wasn’t lying. Five was testing you, came the response.

Ah. Jack placed brought his hands up behind his head and interlaced his fingers, affecting a pose of relaxation. Did I pass?

I’m still talking to you.

I guess that means I’m still fishing then? Jack asked. It was hard to gauge if he was going too far without a face to look at, to measure his words against.

Indeed, Three answered, the amused tone back.

I guess that makes it my move them. Jack’s forehead creased in thought. Can I ask you two questions?

Proceed, Three said, the tone serious.

Jack paused, trying to form the questions just right. "The first one is, ‘Why did the others decide not to choose me?’ And the second is, ‘Why are you reconsidering?’"

Those are very good questions. Let me answer the second one first.

Actually, Jack interjected. I’m really curious about the first one. Could you tell me it first?

The speaker went silent for several seconds. Jack did not swallow.

You are trying to make me end with what is most positive about you, hoping that it will make a positive outcome more likely.

Jack shrugged, giving the speaker a very large smile. I’ll take any advantage I can get.

You declined with Five.

There was no advantage to working with Five.

True. The speaker went silent again. Very well. The others decided against you because your psychological profile is wrong for us. You seem pathologically incapable of having a long-term relationship with anybody. Ever. There are those you could have committed your life to and you did not. And now you wish to spend what life you have left killing Shang and getting your revenge on them for killing your father, your mother, and most of the people you knew in International Falls. You do not care if you live or not. They are unwilling to choose such a partner.

Oh, Jack said, dropping his hands down into his lap. He blinked, considering the verdict, replaying the conversation with Bruce. He was going to find out how he was going to kill Shang. Jack sighed. She was right. He pulled in a deep breath. And you? Are you willing? he finally asked.

No. The old voice held no equivocation at all.

Jack swallowed. It was time to get Three away from this line of thought before she chose to leave.

So what makes you think I’m worth considering then? he asked.

The cyber waited a few seconds before answering, probably measuring him for something. You played with the dogs, she finally answered.

Jack blinked in confusion. What?

Please. Do you really think a military training facility designed for someone like you would give you so much free time with no tests in the middle of War?

Jack grunted. "Well, I was wondering about that. He considered his words for a moment. So you were watching us to see what we would do when we…wanted to?"

Yes. And every candidate who played with the dogs except you has already been chosen.

Jack frowned in thought. Why did you pick them?

A chuckle came from the speaker. "Jack, I’m not going to reel myself in on your line. It’s time for you to answer my questions."

Jack returned the chuckle, leaned back into the chair and interlaced his hands behind his head again, relaxing his posture and kicking his feet out. Go fish.

"Why did you play with the dogs?"

Jack swallowed. He barely stopped himself from uttering the amazingly idiotic phrase of Uh…wha? by the skin of his teeth. It really wouldn’t have helped. He slid back into the seat and leaned forward, bringing one hand forward to rub his chin as he thought. Finally he shrugged. Well, Annabelle came over with the ball and wanted to play. And Bruce…well he wanted to fight so we did. They started it really.

The cyber sighed. "I know they did. They always do. It’s their job. But why did you play with them, not just toss the ball and forget about it? Why did you find out that Tony liked sugar cubes?"

Jack looked at the speaker for almost fifteen seconds, trying to come up with a good answer. Well, I grew up with dogs, he finally began with a wave of his hand. "Most of them like sugar so I figured it was worth a try. And I guess I just like dogs. They’re fun to be around, whether they are normal dogs or uplifted dogs."

The cyber remained quiet again for a long time and Jack began to wonder if he’d blown it. So let me get this straight, she finally said. "You spent four hours at a time outside in an environment you clearly detest, eating or playing with the dogs because you like dogs?"

Well, yeah, Jack answered.

"You gave up study time for the classes because you like dogs?"

Jack raised an eyebrow at the speaker. "Like the classes were really difficult enough to require studying?" he retorted. The speaker did an amazing imitation of grinding teeth and Jack winced. He’d probably gone too far with that one.

You’re smart enough to pass the tests without studying and yet you are so blinded in other ways. We truly do not know what to make of you.

I guess that makes me special then? Jack asked.

And so quick witted…sometimes, the wry tone uttered. Fine. Once more. What makes you the kind of person who can never commit to a relationship, who wants nothing more than to kill every Shang you see, and yet at the same time be the kind of person who will not turn away a dog who wants your attention?

You know what they say, Jack continued with his sly smile. When a five year old hands a toy phone to even the biggest and baddest gangster, he picks it up and answers it.

A sigh came out of the speaker. I ask a serious question and you joke. Goodbye---

Wait, Jack interrupted, realizing he had made a tactical error there. He let out a long breath as the light under speaker three remained on, and shook his head. Have you ever loved a dog?

Speaker three blinked off and on as if to convey confusion in the mind of the cyber before speaking again. "What does that have to