Chapter 31: The Old Cloak and Dagger

The emitters above broadcasted purple, the last light of the day. Dozer figured if he couldn’t talk about the secret mission to his teammates, the game might allow him to talk with someone of a higher rank. The DI’s quarters—three separate quarters for each class—extended from the rest of the barracks, but their doors led outside. Recruits had to expose themselves to humiliation for all to see if they wanted to talk.

Dozer knocked and stood at attention.

“Who’s that?” The DI’s bellowing voice breached the door unimpeded.

“Sir, Private Dozer, Sir!” Dozer yelled, but he saved some volume for the next iterations. His posture didn’t waver. He had to perform the ritual. If any of the other DIs caught sight of a deviation of said ritual, Dozer would get dressed down by all the DIs within earshot.

“Is that a little mouse I hear? That mouse needs to speak a little louder!”

A recruit called Filipek and his fireteam of zeros, on their way back to the barracks, snickered. They stopped to watch the display of degradation. Dozer had done the same back in Bravo.

Louder, Dozer screamed his name again.

"More like a barking dog. Only lions are permitted through this door. Louder!"

Dozer reached deep inside and found the last fumes of his energy for the day. He screamed at full volume, the key to unlock the portal.

"Enter!"

The first-class Charlie DI hadn’t made a showing all day. At first glance, he looked like all the other Sowrivers, except this one had a short beard and only the hint of crow's feet. His hair and beard held no grey. He worked on his tablet and did whatever paperwork the DIs needed to do.

Aside from the desk, the room didn't have much, a rack with six pairs of identical, immaculate boots and a framed print of a cowboy riding his trusty steed in an expanse of semidesert, a scene straight out of the ancient west. A door led to where Dozer assumed the DI rested his tired head after a full day of intimidation.

"Sir, this recruit is pleased to meet you, sir." Dozer’s dry throat ached. His heart raced. He hadn't laid eyes on this Sowriver before, and this one had no memory of Dozer. Best to keep it formal.

He kept his eyes on his tablet. "I heard from Bravo you have promise." He lifted his head and scanned Dozer from his feet to his face. "Don't make him into a liar."

"Sir, this recruit doesn't intend to, sir." Except for embarrassing Buttstroke, but he can't need to know that.

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The DI's hands held each other on the desk in front. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Sir, this recruit has a few questions, sir."

"Ask away. I will answer them to the best of my ability." He ran his fingers through his short beard. "Though I suspect my ability may be limited."

Dozer cleared the phlegm from his lungs. "Sir, is this recruit still the team leader, sir?"

The command option had the lock on it during the day’s rifle practice. Buttstroke declined to mention if his command option had the same lock.

“The powers that be intend you recruits to sort yourselves out throughout our trial-by-fire boot camp.” The DI's mouth didn't betray a smirk, but his eyes shined in the light from the tablet. “To give the cream a chance to rise to the top before the,” he paused and pulled the corner of his mouth downward, “artificialities of the military structure crushes our best and brightest. If you’re meant to be team leader, you will be.”

“Sir, who gives out the missions, and how are they determined as fulfilled, sir?”

“And there’s my limit.” The DI rested in the back of his chair. “I am not at liberty to answer either of those questions.”

Whether the responsibility for dispensing the missions laid with Ma’am or some other entity, the DI knew. That meant Dozer could find out the answer himself somehow.

Dozer took in a full breath. “My—” He tried to talk about the secret mission, and his breath cut short. This time he had oxygen to spare.

“Spit it out, recruit. What do you want?”

Dozer tried to mouth the words, but his lips went limp. After the allotted ten seconds, control returned. “Sir, this recruit apologizes, sir.”

“Ah, I think I understand.” The DI’s gaze moved to the dark scene outside. “Leaders have crosses to bear that their subordinates don’t, and,” he brought his attention back to Dozer, closed his mouth, and left something unsaid, “is yours.”

***

The barracks buzzed with recruits while Charlie got ready for the second week’s exercise. Buttstroke and Errorist prepared with them. Beside them, Dozer stretched out on the luxury bunk below. The DI had banished Dozer and Model from the exercise since they had taken part in Bravo’s, although Dozer remembered not a lick. Model, on top, didn’t move a muscle. Buttstroke’s presence got under Model’s skin, but no one would ever hear him say how much.

“I’m going to hit the head.” Errorist put a hand on Buttstroke’s shoulder. “I’ll see you at the briefing.”

Buttstroke stopped tying his boot and glowered at the hand as if inspecting a new deposit of bird shit on him. “Good. Don’t want to smell you piss yourself.”

Errorist retracted his hand and put on a comical grimace only Dozer could see. Dozer raised his eyebrows in return. The corpsman made his way to the door at the end of the barracks. Buttstroke stood, paused for a few heartbeats as if in thought, and left for the briefing.

As soon as Buttstroke got out of earshot, Dozer scrambled. He pushed the door to the head. It crashed against the wall.

Errorist jumped. “Fucking hell.” The stream of piss leaped from the trough to the floor.

Dozer scanned the toilets without stalls. They were alone. “Careful with that thing.” He smirked. “You almost got your boot.”

“You scared the shit out of me.” Errorist shook and zipped up.

“Looks like you and Buttstroke are getting along like a residence on fire.”

“It’s more like being in a residence on fire.” Errorist caressed his cheeks and pinched the flesh under his jaw. “Don’t know when I’m gonna get burnt.”

Dozer tapped Errorist’s shoulder with a friendly fist. “But that’s good, right?”

“What do you mean?” Errorist held his should as if Dozer had put force behind his punch.

“He trusts you.” Dozer tapped his temple. “Thinks you’re one of his minions.”

Errorist nodded. “That’s exactly what he thinks.”

“So when he comes up with any plans,” Dozer put his hand on Errorist’s shoulder, “let us know.”

Errorist pulled his shoulder away. “Will do.”