At the Cutting Edge

By D G Lamb

Joshua must lead his Team through the final challenge of their intensive training, the Qualifying Mission. But the political faction that had tried to eliminate them all on Darnan is still scheming and a fatal strike from the shadows is unleashed, scattering the Team offplanet. As they struggle to reunite, a greater danger from Joshua’s past is revealed, taking him back to his origins on his home planet Cypress Grove. Mysteries from his difficult beginning are finally unraveled as old friends and enemies must be faced. This time Joshua has his highly trained Team with him as they battle in a final showdown with the Shadow Players to determine not just the fate of Cypress Grove, or even his new home the Unseen Planet, but the entire American Sector of outer space.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D G Lamb
• Release date: Oct 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781956873023

D G Lamb

David Lamb is a board certified clinical neuropsychologist. His day job involves helping people to become more independent after some type of neurological injury. In addition to a doctorate in Clinical Psychology, he has a Master’s in Art Therapy. David has also worked with law enforcement officers to deal with PTSD after critical incidents. While recovering from prostate cancer surgery, his son suggested he try his hand at creative writing. Although his professional experiences certainly informed aspects of this story, he also drew upon his love of cooking and backpacking the mountain trails of Arizona.

Book preview

Author’s Note

If you are familiar with the Driven to the Hilt series, you already know about Dynamic Formatting and can skip right to the beginning.

If you are not familiar with the series, you are obviously missing a great deal of Joshua’s story (four books worth, in fact). But if you are determined to continue nonetheless, please read below for an explanation of the extra blank spaces and font changes you are about to encounter.

Dynamic Formatting is what I have labeled the use of visual elements to convey additional information within the printed word. I believe the origins for this go back to when my father, a high school art teacher, helped me with my drawings in elementary school. That started a lifetime enjoyment of art and, as related to Dynamic Formatting, my often seeing things in a different way.

The primary manifestation of Dynamic Formatting is the addition of spaces as a substitute for lapsing time, (i.e., the more spaces, the longer the pause in phrasing). This almost always occurs within the dialogue, both during conversations and character’s internal thinking. To my eye, and internal ear, the spacing produces a rhythm that helps further describe the exchange and more completely present the characters.

Dynamic Formatting also uses multiple fonts. While not the first writer to do this, I believe I use this device much more extensively than most. The base font is Times New Roman, which includes all of the Joshua’s speaking and thoughts. Franklin Gothic Book is used for minor character dialogue. I have selected other fonts for major characters, with an eye to enhancing character presentation while maintaining readability. By alternating fonts, dialogue identification phrases can be eliminated (e.g., he replied, she said, George answered, etc.), which speeds up reading and creates a more natural flow in the verbal exchanges between characters. A space between paragraphs indicates an in-chapter change in character point of view. Finally, I occasionally use spacing to create a dramatic effect.

I would love your feedback about Dynamic Formatting. Please go to driventothehilt.com to provide any feedback in the comment section. I greatly appreciate your thoughts and ideas.

The Long Game

◄1►

May 29, 2127 ESD

His left forearm vibrated. Joshua eased the flexible canteen from his parched mouth and swallowed his last half-gulp of lukewarm water. Lifting his arm, he stared at the flashing 60:00 on his tacsheet.

There it is. - It’s over. …I can quit.

He tapped off the alert, leaned back against the warm boulder, and popped the small smooth pebble back into his mouth. He was officially the last 237 Team member to complete the minimum 60 hours of evasion in The Wilderness. And although some major training exercises remained, The 72 was really the final make or break milestone.

The 72… …Seventy-two… …That’s the problem.

Joshua sighed. Quitting at 60 had never really been an option. The Assassin of vaunted Team 237 could not simply turn himself in. While Glin, and somewhat surprisingly, Sawyor, had both pulled the full 72, Yashe had come close at just over 70 hours and everyone else had at least passed the 65 mark. His withered lips cracked a tiny curve as he levered his weary body upright under the late afternoon sun globe. Seems Resolute is now part of my DNA. Besides, the curve hitched higher, I have to see if my Final Stretch strategy works. Settling his survival pack on his shoulders, he struck out at a medium jog toward Flip Switch Pass.

An hour later, his entire brain a slow pulsing ache, Joshua spit the pebble from his dry mouth, dehydration at the point where there was no saliva for it to stimulate. He looked down at the gravel road where Drayev had dissuaded him from committing his second murder. He could see Clyfford’s dust covered bluing face and recalled his conviction that he was fully justified in killing his tormentor. Drayev’s quiet plea Please don’t do that echoed across his mind, dispelling the vision. Thanks, mate.

Dismay mounted as Joshua surveyed the descent. This is worse than getting up here! It had taken all of his parkour skills to access the desert plateau he and Drayev had used to escape during their exoskeleton exercise. Their success at avoiding detection then convinced him that the plateau was designated inaccessible, taking it off the search grid. That assumption had prompted his risky crossing of the Desert EcoZone in the first place and it seemed to have been correct, since the Killer Search Teams had not yet made an appearance. Now, … …I just have to get down.

After ten minutes of studying the cliff face from all available angles, he thought he saw a path among the dusky shadows. He began his descent, but halfway down and three quarters around a large boulder face, all handholds simply disappeared. A blind spot from above, he had assumed there would be something to grab. Nada. - Zippo. Although only 30 feet above the desert floor, a jumble of rocks directly below guaranteed broken bones if he just let go. His fingers and forearms began to ache as much as his head. Running out of time. He spotted a horizontal fissure about eight feet down and six feet to his right. Gotta go.

Joshua flexed up onto his elbows, pulled up his knees, and slowed time. Twisting, he placed the sole of one boot on the stone face, released his grip and, smacking his other sole against the rock, launched toward the wall. Too hard! Slamming flat onto the warm stone, -uummph!- his toes entered the fissure, but the impact bounced him back and away from refuge. Weightless, Joshua desperately hung onto slowtime as panic rose along with his stomach. The fissure slid up into view and he urged his fingers toward the rising inky crack and salvation. As they entered, slowtime broke and Joshua gripped as if his palms were epoxy. His second greeting of the wall forced out what air remained in his lungs, but did not bounce him back into space.

After a moment to restore his breath, Joshua worked his way along the fissure to his right. This time his luck held and a minute later, he had regained his planned path of descent. When his boot finally connected with the lowest outcropping, Joshua continued in a controlled collapse onto the boulder’s still toasty flat top. Lying just nine feet above the Pass road, he eased out a prolonged sigh as he stared up at the distant cavern ceiling in the early evening gloom. UN - be - lieve-able. He froze when a sharp chirp drew his ears further up the mountain slope and then… …he heard it.

A delicate, rhythmic crunching, …slowly …getting …louder. With each step! Joshua twisted his head toward the road with glacial slowness, until a shifting of shadows came into view, gradually resolving into an approaching figure in mottled grey camo, holding a new McLamor XB Autostun rifle! Slowtime kicked in again, allowing Joshua to gather his thoughts: Was I wrong about the plateau? …Did they see me there after all? …No, even though he’s coming right at me, the pace is too measured, his weapon is in a comfortable carry position. He’s not on high alert. …So, - just a guard at a choke point. Makes sense to have at least one at each Pass. …Just one? …Is there more than one? The figure stopped 12 feet away, scanning the surrounding cliffs. Time …stretched… until a male voice snapped Joshua out of slowtime.

Control, this is High Anvil 3. All clear on that earlier noise. The helmeted head swiveled to look down the Pass road, Say, where’s my relief? Night’s comin’ on and I’m bushed. The figure turned, but stopped abruptly, "They just left? That means it’ll be another hour! … …Ah, come on, Clive! You know it’ll take 45 minutes even if they’re slammin’ it. - …Ok, - yeah, - …alright. … …Just checked and it’s snowing like the North Pole on the other side. … …Ha! … …No kidding, like Santa on a bad Solstice Eve. I’m tellin’ ya, no way I’d go in there without a heavy-duty parka. … … …Yeah, I got ya. … …High Anvil 3, out."

As the guard completed his turn and began moving away, Joshua recalled the McLamor pistol he had acquired earlier. It only had one stun ball left, but that’s all I need if he’s alone. He reached, and after having smacked hard against the cliff, twice was a bit surprised to find it in the rigged sling under his arm. It had almost cleared his webbing when the front sights struck a buckle and a slight ringing click broke the stillness. The external mics on the guard’s helmet must have been on full gain because he dropped into a crouch and began spinning around.

Seeing the Autostun muzzle already aiming right at him, Joshua rolled sideways off the edge of the outcropping. -poomff- A red streak sped from the rifle’s gun barrel, but the -piff- sounded behind, and now, above him. Extending his McLamor as he fell, the sights lined up and -poomff- … … -piff- The cloud enveloped the guard’s face just before the rising ground said hello. UUuummph!!

Slowtime knocked out of him, Joshua frantically scrambled to his feet and lurched forward, but the guard was already crumbling to the sand. He removed the helmet, swung it to clear the gas, then put it on. He dragged the unconscious Trainee behind a rock jumble, tying wrists and ankles with the guard’s harness. Joshua considered taking the Autostun rifle, but the Final Stretch is all about stealth and speed. So ten yards up the road, he tossed the rifle and now useless pistol behind some boulders, along with the helmet, which had been silent the entire time.

Joshua jogged up Flip Switch Pass road to the ion shield and looked at the swirling snowstorm on the far side. It’s even worse than the guard said. He grinned, dumped out his pack, and stripped off all of his clothes. Wiping off what little sweat there was with his squeegee towel, he then unrolled a tight cylinder of white. Secret Weapon #1. Inside was another, cream colored, cloth cylinder. He shook out the cream silk onesie, donned it, then climbed into the lightweight white coverall Sovissa had made for him. The extremely rugged material would keep him warm and remain flexible even at below zero degrees Fahrenheit. Turning his pack inside out, Joshua loaded his old clothes and the rest of his gear into the now white pack. Snugging his gaiters, gloves, and hood tight against the cold, Joshua pulled on his white balaclava and entered the maelstrom.

After packing his canteen with snow, Joshua filled his mouth with the fluffy white flakes, dehydration taking precedence over body temp. He set out for some tall pines near the road and leaping to a low branch, swung onto a parallel cluster of the rocks. He worked around to the backside of the huge boulder pile, careful to step only on windswept bare stone.

With the massive rock cluster between him and the road, he ran between snowdrifts to his new target, a copse of leatherleaf trees, counting on the gusting wind to cover his tracks. Once there, he dug Secret Weapon #2 out of his pack. Uncoiling the serration edged wire, he looped it around a sapling, put a finger into the rings on each end, and began sawing. Soon he was plowing through the windswept snow, two saplings over a shoulder while dragging a third to help obscure his trail.

During the next two and a half hours of weaving between snowdrifts from rock formations to forest spurs, Joshua marveled at the effectiveness of the combination of wicking silk underwear and white coverall. It felt odd to be so warm while in so little clothing. And to think I almost chose a big survival knife instead! Not only was the cold suit keeping him warm, but by putting his snow filled canteen under the coverall, his body heat was producing enough water to eliminate his dehydration headache. And for a bonus, his three Secret Weapons had been far enough under the survival pack weight limit to add an extra nutrient bar to his rations. Tonight’s dinner! Exiting a stand of Ponderosa pines, Joshua spotted the outcropping that had prompted his Final Stretch strategy during the training reconnaissance tours of the five EcoZones. Beyond it stretched a quarter mile of open snowfield. Once past that, it’s literally, all downhill.

At the stone buttress, Joshua crawled over a large snowbank on top of the saplings to minimize disruption of the snow. Once in the depression, he built up a semicircle wall of icy snow blocks cut from the backside of the drift, forming a half-dome enhanced hole. Trimming two saplings, he created a roof of interwoven leatherleaf branches and then covered it with snow. The remaining branches insulated the snow house floor and he climbed inside, using the last half-trimmed sapling as a door.

Sitting snugly inside, Joshua turned his LED headlamp on low and pulled out Secret Weapon #3 - two rolls of Super sticky ribbon. He cut the stripped saplings to the same length, tapered the ends, and then sat on the middle sections of both as he slowly ate his last nutrient bar. Dinner finished, he bent the warmed saplings into a loop, wrapping the ends with sticky tape. Next he wove ribbons inside the loops until two snowshoes stood propped up against the sapling door in the wane light. Joshua looked down 67:17. A little less than five hours to go.

Turning off his headlamp, Joshua sat in the darkness with nothing left to do, and finally, felt something. …A profound sense of satisfaction? No, not that exactly. … …The right word came, competence. He had successfully developed and executed a plan of action that represented years of training and study. In the two and a half years since Darnan had so shockingly shaken his confidence, this was the first time he felt so unreservedly capable. Of managing myself, at least.

He checked the time. Just short of midnight. Joshua set his alarm for 3:00, figuring it would take less than an hour to cross the snowfield if his snowshoes worked reasonably well. Besides, even if he was spotted, he was too high up for the Killer Search Teams to intercept him before time ran out. Doubting he would sleep, he crossed his arms on top of his knees and lowered his head. It’s amazing how comfortable it is in here, out of the wind. I suppose my exhaled breath is… also… warmi- …-ting-, …-ting,- …-ting-

Joshua lifted his head in confusion, grunting in pain as his neck protested three hours in the same position. …-ting-, …-ting- Situational awareness flooded in and he quickly tapped the tacsheet to stop the alarm. His ears stretched into the surrounding stillness, seeking any signal of approaching danger. After several minutes without a crunch of compacting snow, a soft grunt of exertion, or scrape of branch on material, Joshua heard the silence. The wind’s not blowing anymore!

Pushing back the sapling door, he cringed when a layer of snow slumped over his forearms with a soft sump sound. Now under an hour from his 72, Joshua was suddenly anxious to cross the finish line. He eased his head out and sucked in the diamond crisp night air, amazed by the pristine vista of freshly covered mountainside, the sun globe’s moon setting creating a blanket of glittering sapphire. A careful scan of the forest behind him revealed no movement, so Joshua emerged from his snow house with his survival pack, sat down, and Super taped the toes of his boots to the snowshoes. Next, he trimmed the remaining branches off the door sapling to create a walking staff. Time to finish this thing!

Joshua had to stamp with some force to keep from sliding downslope, but the snowshoes worked better than he had hoped. After an indeterminate stretch of steady slogging across the fresh covering of snow, he stopped and looked up, surprised to find the far side of the snowfield less than a hundred yards away. Before he could resume his trek, his tacsheet rang three times and began flashing 72:00. Well, that’s it then. Joshua tapped the notification off and… …a low moan sounded behind him.

Whipping his head around, he saw a fissure form four feet above the string of indentations that marked his path. The entire snowfield shifted downward and without looking, Joshua leapt toward the outcropping. After facing forward and taking five more impossibly long strides, a crack appeared upslope and a huge section of sparkling blue snow broke away, its separating groan swallowed by an expanding rumble from behind. Eyes locked on the stable edge of the mountainside, Joshua had completed three more leap-steps just two more! when a cloud of white enveloped him in an explosive roar, more an all-encompassing vibration than a sound.

Slowtime began automatically. His legs were lifted up and forward, prompting him to release his sapling-staff and begin rotating both arms in a backstroke while kicking his feet in a climbing motion. This kept him near the surface until one leg was yanked down, shifting him face forward. The pulled leg suddenly released as the snowshoe ripped away. He renewed his efforts to swim to the surface. Then his other leg was yanked and released, starting Joshua in an uncontrolled tumble. He had pulled both hands in front of his face when he was slammed to a stop, wet cold pressing on his head and shoulders.

It took a moment for the thunder of the avalanche to fade and ease into silence. Joshua opened his eyes to inky blackness. His right hand pressed against his face and his left was nearby, but he could not tell exactly where. He fought off his rising panic by doing a systematic assessment. It’s just after 4:00, so there’ll be no light anytime soon. First thing I need is a breathing pocket. Pushing his right hand away from his face compressed the snow about six inches. Then he scraped toward his left hand until he touched it. Rocking his forearms back and forth gained some more precious mobility for his hands, and using both, he enlarged the pocket further. But which way to dig? Joshua slowed his breathing and thought. Recalling one of DI Jeffree’s survival lectures, he scooped a bit of snow into his mouth. Once it melted, he let it escape through his pursed lips. A warm trickle ran to the left corner of his mouth and down off his left cheek. OK then, I’ve got to dig up and to my right.

Joshua used his left hand to clear his right bicep. Pressing handfuls of snow down under his rising right arm with his left hand, he froze with the sudden realization that his exertions were using up a lot of oxygen. STOP it! It’s this or suffocating slowly. Digging at least gives me a chance! Stretching up his right hand, he scooped… nothing!

When his waving hand met no resistance, Joshua struggled to repress a scream of triumph and instead pressed his forearm sideways. At first the snow just compacted, but then… it suddenly gave way. Pulling his hand back down, he not only detected some blue light, but much more importantly, he smelled fresh air.

After a luxurious moment to taste brisk clean air, Joshua began working in earnest to enlarge the hole. With his right arm fully extended and feeling the top of the snow, he sensed his face was only inches from freedom. With a surge of confidence, he furiously pushed at the icy wall in front of his face until… it gave way! As the just released icy block cracked down and away, Joshua sat upright and looked out over the path of the avalanche. With a full-body shiver, he saw that he had survived only because he had been on the very edge of the displaced snowfield. What was I feeling last night? Oh yeah, competence. The realization that no one could anticipate every contingency partly moderated his chagrin, then his shoulders slumped. What if the Team had been with me? He stared down the slope until roused by another body shaking shiver. This one was from the cold. Suit doesn’t work so well when you’re packed in snow, I guess. Need to get busy to warm up… and… to get out of here.

It took some chipping at the ice around his boots, but 20 minutes after sitting up, Joshua was sliding off the edge of the snow debris. Another 10 minutes found him standing exhausted, hip high in snow, still 30 yards from the nearest stand of forest and solid ground. Then whistles pierced the susurration of rushing blood in his ears and his bellow-like breathing. Soon after, a large hoverplat was descending toward his waving arms.

Lying wrapped in a thick thermal blanket, being whisked toward the Wilderness Medical Station, the events of the last three days and nights slid through Joshua’s mind until exhaustion and the soothing hum of hoverplat engines transformed thoughts into dreams.

~~~~~~~

His secret library bookshelf door silently swung open. Patrik rose and strode to his brother, greeting him with a powerful hug. Finally stepping back, he gestured to an oversized leather armchair and a short glass with two fingers of rare single malt waiting on the reading stand. Like the embrace, tradition called for a taste before discussing business. Even so, after just a brief moment to savor the choice whiskey, Patrik sensed his brother’s unease, What’s wrong?

"Nothing. - Which is to say, - there’s no emergency. I just feel a general …disquiet. …It’s been too long. Chrys grimaced, Why’te’s up to something. Shaking his head, he lifted his glass, Besides, it’s been quite some time since our last face-to-face and… …I miss seeing you."

Patrik joined in the toast with a smile and although he suspected there was more, he let it go, Any progress in locating the Beam Chrystal?

"Ahh, yes. Well, …I’ve learned which construction company bored the tunnel in Mt. Lipsig, …but the name of the company that built the complex at the end of the bore hole? That’s proven much more elusive. However, once I track it down, I’ll pay them a late night visit to get the construction schematics. Hopefully those will reveal some weaknesses to exploit, allowing us to finally, acquire the Beam Chrystal."

We’re getting close. Keep me updated through our regular covert comms. Patrik eased back in his chair, rolled some scotch across his tongue, then switched gears, How’s 237?

"Great. …Honestly? I didn’t really think he could do it, but somehow, Joshua has fully integrated Glin into the team dynamics. The combination of those two with the other members has elevated them to superstar status. In fact, Joshua’s in the middle of his 72 right now and if he passes, they’ll all have completed the last major hurdle before Going Black and starting Qualifying Mission prep."

Excellent! That coincides nicely with our preparations for the extraction mission. But even so, Patrik had heard the hint of reserve, you’re worried.

Chrys took a drink and sighed, "Yeah. They’re almost too good. And it’s hard to deliver an object lesson when they don’t get overconfident and lose. He speared Patrik with a flat stare, As in… ever."

Really? Patrik’s head rocked back in incredulity, They haven’t lost in the more than two years since they joined the Cloakers? He blew a silent whistle at his brother’s nod, then squinted, There’s… something else. Maybe the MinSub Joshua’s dating? Her name’s Bekka, right?

Right. Her history’s clean, but sadly for Joshua, they’re from alien social worlds. I doubt they can survive the lack of common reference.

That’s too bad. Especially since his limited romantic experience could be a serious vulnerability. Why’te could hustle up some floozy to get her hooks into him and convince him to give up field training.

I don’t think he’s quite wired that way. Based on what - Elly has said, Joshua’s parental influences are quite powerful.

Patrik caught the hesitancy, Any progress with Elly?

Chrys swirled his whiskey. "No. She doesn’t buy that it slipped out accidently. She thinks I purposely pulled the boys into the Cloakers."

Patrik eased it out gently, Maybe it’s time to let her go.

Chrys downed his whiskey, stood, and turned with arched brow, "Ahhh, if only I could. …But then, ‘The heart has its reasons, which reason does not know.’ …Which… seems reasonable to me." His smirk held a sad tilt as he pivoted toward the bookcases.

Patrik watched the secret door close as quietly as it had opened. I should have known better than to suggest that. He’ll never, …ever stop loving her, regardless of how much it hurts.

◄2►

Joshua eased his battered body off the Farmhouse porch and slowly walked toward the four tables grouped on the front lawn. The extended Team sat around a huge mound of purple blossoms, Zillah next to Sawyor and Jadana close by Drayev. Joshua smiled at the sight of Jake, surrounded by plates of food, but very few crocus blossoms. His buoyant mood deflated when he met Bekka’s eyes. Her smile transformed her beautiful face, but it held a reserve that had not been there when they had first met behind Chan’s four months ago. Her discomfort around the Team had been a growing problem in recent weeks, despite everyone’s efforts at inclusion.

"Whoo Hoo! …He… …is… …alive!"

Joshua inwardly cringed. Sovissa’s retort began well, but ended worse.

"Well, Meegale, you’d sleep into the afternoon too if you were recovering from almost… dying …in an avalanche only 12 hours ago!"

Meegale’s hands rose at the chorus of boos, "Hey! I wasn’t criticizing the Head Honcho! Just expressing my appreciation for his survival."

Bekka’s face flinched before a drape of resignation descended. Joshua dismissed the near-death reference with a flip of the hand, "Well, I appreciate being completely cleared by the Wilderness Medical Team. He threw a smile at Bekka then quickly changed the subject. But! What I mostly appreciate is all of you …for coming to our little trimming party here. Not only will there be a little ‘appreciation’ bonus on everyone’s AC, but as soon as these pistils have dried into saffron, we’ll have a paella party with fresh shrobster and chicken!"

Joshua lifted a hand to silence the forming multiple objections to the monetary reward, "Trust me. At the price real saffron is getting on the InterSector market, Shadi Farms is still making a hefty profit even after giving you a share and paying the MinSubs for picking the blossoms. And the crocuses have contributed to honey production as well. Besides, we want you to come back in the summer to work the white blooms."

Sovissa pouted, White’s not as pretty as the purple.

"OK, well, just wait until fall when we harvest the deep yolk yellow variety. And then, …our winter blooms are a hybrid variety from Aster that will be a striated purple and orange."

Yashe cooed, Oooo, can’t wait to see the Slope covered in those!

The waiting unresolved issues with Bekka prevented Joshua from relaxing into the good natured ribbing and jibes that had again become a trademark of Team gatherings. His unease continued through the trimming and past their garden fresh chopped salad and grilled chicken dinner, clinging like a wet shroud even as his mates began departing following the after-dinner digestif. Finally, he and Bekka stood on the porch, gazing out at Crystal Lake in an awkward silence. They watched occasional silvery ripples spread from trout breaking the surface to take a night skimmer fly that paused too long in its search for algae.

Thanks for coming to help.

Sure.

I wasn’t sure you would after you didn’t answer my earlier texts.

"Well, I knew you needed ta- …to… rest up after that 72 Test. …Besides, I needed some time to think, …by myself."

Joshua appreciated Bekka’s self-correction, admiring her persistence at trying to fit in with the Team even after he had told her he liked her accent. It still surprised him how different the MinSub’s dialect was from the rest of Tyler’s Moon. But then, they really do isolate themselves Down Under. His urge to put his arm around Bekka’s shoulders died when his sideways glance found her standing rigid, hands clenching fistfuls of her chiffon skirt. And what did you, ah, …conclude?

Bekka met his hopeful gaze, then dropped her dark eyes and noticed her hands. She released the fabric and rubbed her palms on her hips. After a long blow through full red lips, Bekka turned and squared her shoulders, jaw set. "Joshua, I really like you. You’ve been so very kind to include me in all your activities here on the Farm and - your Team has been real invitin’ too, tryin’ ta make me feel at home ‘n all. Moist eyes glanced away as she marshalled her resolve, But we both know I kin never understand what y’all do in yer trainin’. …‘N cussa that, I’ll never be a real part of yer Team, no matter how much ever’one tries ta splain it, and… I just- …I’ll… never… know …when, …if… something’s gonna happen to you!"

Joshua grasped her shoulders, Bekka, I …that may be true, …but I-

Her hands pressed flat on his chest, stopping him from drawing her in. Her face hardened, Nope. We both know the truth ‘f this. It just aint gonna work, Joshua. Bekka looked away with a small disgusted laugh, Tine says I’m a fool fer throwin’ away ‘n up ‘n coming bis’ness man like yourself, her eyes made a shy dart at Joshua, says I should make ya happy hows ever I can, now her face shifted into a determined frown, but that aint right and it woodn’t work, no how. Her expression shifted again, but Joshua could not read it. "You’ve always been a real gentlm’n to me, Joshua. Always treated me with respect. She traced her fingertips along the edge of his jaw and whispered, I’ll always remember that about you."

Joshua strained for something comforting to say, but nothing came.

Please? Bekka’s eyes became intense as her callused palm cupped Joshua’s cheek, her expression emphatic, "Please. …Don’t try ‘n contact me. My Momma always says it’s best ta rip the bandage offa your wound hard, …in one quick pull, …and I do believe she’s right ‘bout that. She dropped her hand and stepped back, brimming long-lashed eyes taking Joshua in from toe to head. Goodbye, Joshua." She spun, fled around the corner of the porch, …and was gone.

Joshua stood a long while, staring at the silver waters of Crystal Lake, feeling …unmoored… …adrift. His emotional turmoil was not just due to losing Bekka, but also from the abrupt and drastic reversal of his confidence on the moon-lit mountainside that very morning. The almost fatal flaw in his carefully laid plans was so obvious in retrospect. The persistent image of a blue-white cloud sweeping away the Team shook him most. I haven’t felt like this since Darnan. I’ve gotta get a grip.

Grasping the porch railing, the feel of molded Steelfoam brought the Farmhouse into focus, then all of Shadi Farms. There’s another problem. All of this, and the idea that I own even a part of it, feels… so …unreal. His thoughts came full circle. So why am I working so hard to make this a home when clearly, I’ll never find someone to share it with? Muted laughter sounded behind him, a deep rich laugh identifying one of the occupants in the Farmhouse living room. Well, I am sharing it with someone, I guess. He shook his head, chagrined by his bout of self-pity, and some pieces fell into place: not only had Bekka been unable to understand his life as a Trainee, but he often had no understanding of her MinSub references; they really had not spent that much time with each other given her full-time job and both his training schedule and Farm chores; and in light of his experiences with Ashliya and Magen, am I even capable of trusting enough to… love …someone, romantically?

The front door opened. Standing in the shadows, Joshua watched Drayev escort Jadana off the porch. As they strolled over to the Fishing Shack, she slid an arm into his and leaned in close. He looked down and said something. They both laughed. Joshua smiled through a weary sigh, turned, and went inside to pull himself up the spiral staircase.

Reaching the top, Joshua looked out over a house more beautiful than he had ever imagined living in, much less owning. As Mom used to say, things have a way of balancing out… eventually. And then he understood who was missing - Mom. Although he thought of her often, it was always in the past tense, of things that had happened, but rarely in how she would think about things currently, like …what would she do with this house? He was flooded, not with depression, but… emptiness. They had been so close, almost sharing each other’s thoughts, totally committed to each other and the shared goal of the Homehearth Café. And what would she say about two pity parties in a row? Joshua smiled and headed for the master bedroom. It wouldn’t be good, that’s for sure.

~~~~~~~

Joshua peered into the thick white smoke, looking for the mesh screen, but could not find it. Should’ve looked down there before I blew.

His gloved hand waved some of the smoke out of the white wooden box. Leaning closer, Joshua strained to find the queen excluder. With a few more gentle waves, he finally saw the wire mesh at the bottom of the box. Looks like it’s tight and in place.

What’s that for again? Jake’s voice came from a step behind.

"It keeps the queen, who’s too big to fit through, from laying eggs in the honey cells. But… the workers can get through and they fill the cells with honey. Then we pull the frames and get the good stuff." Joshua slid the comb frames, already crawling with bees, down into the holding notches and replaced the hive’s top cover. Blowing some smoke, he slowly stepped back far enough to pull off his veil and gloves.

Jake followed his lead, then yanked the half spear out of the ground, laying it to rest in its customary place on his shoulder. Why’re we wearing this stuff ’n blowin’ all that smoke if these’re stingless bees?

What would you do if they swarmed around your face?

Swat ‘em away!

Exactly. And would shooing them away kill some of them?

I donno. Maybe.

Less bees, less honey for us. So, …we keep everyone nice and calm, even if we can’t get stung. Right?

I s’ppose.

Joshua let Jake drive back down to the house. As they pulled up beside the other Bounce About, he said, I want it back. …All of it.

Jake pulled the parking brake, picked up the spear, and looked up at Joshua with wide, confused eyes, Wha-do-ya mean? His voice dripped with innocence, but he gripped the spear shaft with white knuckles.

All of the things you’ve been taking from the Farm. It isn’t yours, Jake. …I want it back.

The boy’s 13-year-old face squinched in on itself with a twist of anger. He looked away, rotating the spear in agitation. Joshua waited.

Yeah, well, it ain’t yours eethir. Yer buddy Nesbit pays for everything around here, far ‘s I can see.

It’s true that he provided most of the stuff you’ve stolen, Joshua was gratified to see Jake’s shoulders flinch at the last word, "but you know our business arrangement. Nesbit provides all of those things to make the houses look nice, shows his pictures of it to other people, who like what they see and buy the folding houses from him. He makes more money, we keep the stuff, …it’s a win-win. Which is what I thought we had, Jake, over the last couple of years. I had a hardworking guy who knows a lot about how to get things done on a farm, and you had a safe place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear, and some folding money."

Jake stopped twisting the spear and just looked at it for a time. Finally, I ain’t got it all no more. … …Sold some of it.

Joshua sighed, What’re we going to do about that, Jake?

The boy leapt from the ATV and fast walked to the Ranch House. Joshua took a calming breath, then followed. When he stepped through the flung open front door, he saw one of the missing kitchen knives clatter to the floor beside a pile of knickknacks the designers had put on the shelves. Joshua barely recognized even half of them. Didn’t even notice they were gone. With a flush of epiphany, he understood why he had so long felt out of place in the Farmhouse, as if he did not belong.

There! That’s all I got left.

Joshua was surprised at the size of the mound. Before he could comment, the boy pointed the spear at him and shook it. Joshua could not prevent a scowl at being threatened.

"This is mine! You gave it to me. The teen’s oversized hand pulled on his coverall strap, I’d give this back to ya too, but ya threw away my old clothes an’ I ain’t goin’ back nekid."

The boy snatched up his old cloth shoulder bag from behind the only unmade bunk bed, "Here! Ya problee wants ta nose thru all this, make sure I ain’t got none of yur propertee in ‘mongst my own stuff, right?"

Joshua shook his head, but before he could speak, Jake stormed out of the bungalow. It was clear he had not thought through his approach to Jake. He was accustomed to relying on the training system command structure. I was just going to mention the problem and assumed he’d be motivated to take care of it. …And… I guess he is, but not how I anticipated.

Stepping out of the Ranch House, Joshua needed a moment to locate Jake, who was already climbing the slope past the house. He set off after him in a fast jog, mind filled with conflicting emotions: guilt for having let Jake carry the half-spear everywhere, since it was a constant reminder of the tenuousness of their temporary pact; annoyance that he would lose what had become an important resource for the Farm; anger that Jake had betrayed his trust, feeding a resolve to be stern in dealing with it; and fear that the boy would be hurt, even killed, if he returned to the Sub Strata levels. He reached the bridge with Jake already halfway across, but stopped when the boy spun and again pointed with the spear.

Ya can stop follerin’ me! Don’t ya worry, I ain’t comin’ back to yer stoopid underground farm noways.

Jake turned to go, but stopped when Joshua called out over the gurgling of Crystal Stream. "Jake! We… I need you here. … …Betsie still needs you, too, now that she’s pregnant. The teen’s shoulders slumped a bit, his face softening. We… we’re just starting to get this place whipped into shape. …That stuff? I don’t really care about it. …But, …I just… can’t have you stealing from us, Jake. Joshua took a few steps onto the bridge, encouraged when Jake only glanced sideways. We have a saying, Jake, ‘Lift high the clasped Hand.’ It means if we work together, we’ll win. Everyone on the Team, including Jadana, I have to trust them, all of them, Jake, and I need them to trust me. With that shared trust, we’ve become family. I want you to be a part of our family here too, Jake."

The boy’s transformation took Joshua by surprise, "I don’t have a family no more! I ain’t got NOTHIN’ no more!! Jake’s face was contorted with anguish and shame. Just leave me alone!" He turned and fled across the bridge.

Joshua followed, but stopped on the far side of Crystal Stream, seeing the lanky teen begin his scramble up the cavern wall and not wanting his pursuit to cause a slip. He need not have worried. Jake traversed the stone face without difficulty. Guess he’s already been up that way more than once. When Jake reached the top and looked back down, Joshua yelled, You’re always welcome back, Jake!! He could not tell whether Jake had heard his shout before turning and disappearing into the cave.

The walk back to the Farmhouse was slow, but did not produce any answers to how he could have handled the situation better. A ding interrupted his sigh and Joshua checked his minisheet. Gotta get to classes! He bound up the porch steps to change his clothes.

◄3►

It came from a distance, but the sound still served its purpose.

Joshua rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. A golden glow spread across the smooth ceiling above his king sized bed. He sucked in a large breath, but before his lungs could deflate, Ajax shared another morning greeting from the roost. Ah, …a two cock-a-doodle-doo morning.

Rolling out of bed and stepping toward the bathroom, Joshua glanced through the window. The strengthening sun globes lit up the barn like some red-cubed Noah’s Arc floating on a sea of green. Despite having lived in the farmhouse full-time for the past three months, the entire vista was still slightly disorienting. It was quite incongruous to look out on expansive fields of lush plant life in what he knew was a cave, albeit a very large cave, and Nesbit having the upper half of the cavern painted a deep sky blue greatly augmented the illusion.

However, there was no time for contemplation because it was Wednesday, Team Breakfast day. Joshua hurried through his morning torso stretching routine. Soon he was giving a passing knock to the second bedroom door as he walked by on the balcony overlooking the living room/den. Slipping down the spiral staircase, the smell of cofftea greeted him as he passed the sectional couch and fireplace. Entering the kitchen through the dining room, he passed the still dripping autobrewer, paused to turn on the stovetop’s long griddle, then continued to the refrigerator to pull out the ham cube and several bottles of crème. Whistling swelled from outside the kitchen, mixed with the thump of feet on porch steps, followed by click of the backdoor’s turning doorknob.

Joshua began placing slices of ham cube into a still warming frying pan, About time Big Man.

"Whoa! …You’re actually up!"

Confused, Joshua looked around to see Sawyor had entered the kitchen from the home office, stubborn slumber still pulling drooping eyelids under tousled red hair. He flicked a hand at his huge tormentor, Yeah, yeah, then beseechingly reached out toward Joshua, "Please, …hand me a cup, would ya?"

Joshua complied, but stopped cold when he turned to Drayev for the just collected basket of fresh eggs. Oh, … …my.

The big Analyst’s head tilted forward, eyes narrowing, "Don’t start with me…"

"No, no, Joshua’s eyes roamed over Drayev’s head as he took the egg basket, it looks… great. …Fabulous! His head cocked in innocent bewilderment, Is that some sort of… gel in your hair?"

"Joshua…"

The backdoor opened again and Glin flowed in with a large cloth covered tray in both hands, filling the room with the sweet aroma of fresh baked bread. He stopped, eyes sweeping over Sawyor and Joshua before his gaze fixed on Drayev’s carefully coiffed hair.

Joshua turned the oven on warm, then began cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl, Have you ever seen Drayev looking so dapper this early in the morning?

Glin considered Drayev, then cast a carefully neutral expression at Joshua, I never antagonize a Russian before he’s had his breakfast.

Drayev speared Joshua with a flat stare, "So speaks a wise man."

Joshua’s grin spread as he started whisking crème and cinnamon into the eggs. The kitchen bustled with activity: Glin pulled a long serrated knife and went to the cutting board; Drayev took over slicing and frying the ham; and with his second cup of cofftea in hand, Sawyor poured the remaining brew into a warming carafe and started a second pot. Joshua looked up in surprise when Glin laid the first plate of sliced bread beside the griddle, "What’s this?"

Glin’s smile was self-satisfied, "Just thought a swirl of cinnamon in the brioche might give a bit of flair to your French toast."

Joshua quartered an end slice and tossed pieces around the room before taking his own bite. Eyes half closed, he chewed to the sounds of appreciative moans from