man passed, Britton caught the flag sewn onto his shoulder even as the man’s magical current hit him hard enough to make him grimace. Whoever the stranger was, he was highly Latent.
Their eyes followed him, staring unabashedly as he moved along until he was gone from sight behind one of the concrete blast barricades.
“Who was that?” Richards asked.
Britton shook his head. “Russian army, I think. At least, that was the flag sewn on his jacket.”
“Didn’t know they had a SOC.”
Britton thought of the giant snake creature he’d seen when he’d first arrived on the FOB. “Everybody does. Harlequin said we’re not to talk to them unless authorized.”
Downer opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. An awkward silence followed.
Richards broke it, grinning. “I thought you might like it,” he said, clapping Downer on the shoulder.
“Like what?”
“The training. The SASS. The Dampener. All of it.”
“SASS isn’t so bad,” said Truelove. “The videos are pretty annoying, but once you get your magic down, it’s actually a lot of fun. Did you meet Swift?”
“That guy was a piece of work,” Britton said.
“Yeah,” Truelove said. “If the guy would let the Dampener scale back his anger, he’d be set, but he just can’t stop fighting. He rode me pretty hard when I went through.”
“The Dampener is incredible,” Britton said. “Skill really does beat will.”
“Yeah, it is pretty incredible…” Truelove said.
“What’s incredible, needledick,” Fitzy cut him off as he tromped toward them, “is your unrivaled ability to state the obvious. Perhaps if you had Manifested in the magical ability to shut the hell up, you’d say less stupid stuff. Now, if you’d be so kind as to refrain from teaching our new arrival how to be a moron, maybe I won’t have to break another nail administering a repeat ass-kicking to him.”
Truelove stood at attention, his eyes focused on the middle distance, but not before Britton caught him casting an embarrassed glance at Downer, who didn’t appear to notice.
Fitzy warmed to his task, stepping closer to Truelove. “You put on a brave face, little man, but we both know that if it weren’t for this ‘incredible’ Dampener you keep going on about, you’d be crying all four of your eyes out right now.”
“All right, I suppose some congratulations are in order,” Fitzy said. “Not that learning a little basic control is much of an accomplishment. The Novices in the SASS are raw meat. If you hadn’t mastered the basics so quickly, I’d have been disappointed. Well”—he looked back to Truelove—“more disappointed than I already am, anyhow.
“You all just remember one thing: You are Coven Four, Shadow Coven, the magic behind the magic. You are this Corps’ secret weapon against all that is unknown and terrible in the world. When the army can’t cut it, they call the SOC, when the SOC can’t cut it, they call us. Like it or not, that’s your role, and I expect you all to act like it. Almighty God must have a particular sense of humor to have Manifested such rare and precious abilities in a pack of imbeciles like you, but we will all simply have to cowboy up and go to war with the army we have.
“And that, folks, is exactly what we intend to do. We’re going to get started right now.”
He led the Coven back into the converted trailer, stomping up a small flight of wooden steps, the Coven following, pushing past a cluster of Goblins hauling bags of trash out of the room.
Inside was a simple classroom that was a near-exact copy of the SASS schoolhouse, complete with whiteboard and plastic folding chairs. The Coven sat while Fitzy stood in front of the board.
“Among the many functions you will have as Shadow Coven, first and foremost is to not embarrass me. You have all Manifested in prohibited schools, or in Richards’s case, perfected a practice that has been outlawed under an amendment to the Geneva Convention. By all rights, you should be rotting in jail or strapped to a lethal injection table, and, with a little work, you might still get there. However, for the time being, the president of the United States himself is giving you a free pass so long as you put your skills to work in the service of this country. What I expect from each and every one of you is to earn that amnesty, and to make certain that your customers do not regret their decision to take a chance on you. I can assure you that I will take any failure to meet that standard as a personal affront and deal with you accordingly.
“First off, we are arranging the Coven so that each of you performs roles in proportion to your Manifested ability. These are as follows.” He turned to write on the board.
“Downer, you will provide force protection, under the call sign ‘Prometheus.’ Truelove, you will provide combat overmatch capabilities, under the call sign ‘Rictus.’ Richards, you will provide reserve capability as required, under the call sign ‘Whisper.’ Britton, you will provide logistical support under the call sign ‘Keystone.’ These capabilities do not absolve you of your duties as agents of the United States Army. The primary mission of this organization is to kill people and destroy property. You will ensure that, whatever the designation I have just given you, you are properly trained to put warheads on foreheads when called to do so. Is that perfectly clear?”
“Yes, sir,” the Coven said in unison.
“The great thing about Probe schools is that they’re all pretty much force multipliers,” Fitzy went on. “The constitution of this particular Coven, now with instantaneous transport”—he gestured to Britton—“enables you to deliver a hammerblow whenever and wherever the SOC needs it. In short, the four of you can show up in an enemy’s backyard and have an army there inside of a minute. We are going to train to do just that.
“First things first; some ground rules. You will not use your magical abilities except in the line of duty when specifically authorized. You will not speak to or associate with the indig unless specifically authorized. You will obey all my orders as if they were the word of the Almighty Himself. Also clear?”
“Sir.”
“Outstanding,” Fitzy said. “This is trailer B-6. We will meet here every afternoon, after you complete your SASS morning indoc and basic control training. By then I expect you to have completed your time sheet and eaten a proper breakfast. Big-boy rules, people. Nobody will wake you up and ensure you get anywhere on time, but I will personally kick your ass if you are even slightly tardy. Instructions will be written on this whiteboard or delivered in person. Because your abilities are unique, much of your training and some of your assignments will be performed independently. As unit cohesion is a goal, I will try to keep you together as much as humanly possible, but it won’t always be. For now, you will follow me to the adjacent trailer.”
The adjacent trailer was empty and covered with soft matting. A short-haired, kind-voiced older woman dressed in a white jumpsuit greeted them and bade them sit Indian style on the mats. The next two hours were spent in meditation exercises. The woman led them first through stretches, then chants, and finally silence, attempting to rid their minds of conscious thought. Britton heard Truelove begin snoring faintly during the last of the exercises, but the Necromancer was brought around by Fitzy’s boot in his ribs. Richards smirked but choked back his laughter before Fitzy could provide similar disci-pline.
“Try to take this seriously,” the instructor admonished. “Dis-ciplining your emotions is the key to magical control. Even the Dampener isn’t as effective as a person who has attained true self-mastery. Meditation is an important part of that.”
The other soldiers in the evening chow hall avoided them, stepping out of line as the Coven approached. The few humans working the food lines slopped the food onto their trays in a hurry, thrusting them at the Coven as if trying to ward them off. The Goblins murmured among themselves in their own language. A few bowed to Britton as he passed, tapping their closed eyelids as Marty had done.
Marty appeared among a cluster of humans and Goblins from the cash, all in blue medical scrubs. He waved to the Coven, and Truelove waved back. “How’s it going?”
“You just secure that crap, Rictus,” Fitzy snarled. “You want to buttfuck your fairy-tale boyfriend in the privacy of your own hooch, then I guess everyone is entitled to blow off a little steam, no matter how nasty that particular mental image may be. But God as my witness, you will not fraternize on my watch!”
Marty looked at his feet and moved on.
They ate without speaking. Fitzy munched away beside them, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Back at the trailer, they were split up.
Britton followed Fitzy down another track to a huge canvas tent that enclosed a bare patch of ground some
