Mag did his best to swallow the nervous lump in his throat, focusing on taking deep breaths through his nose as he stared straight ahead at the elevator door. His new fatigues hadn’t quite been broken in yet, the gray canvas restricting his movements in ways he hadn’t quite learned to combat yet. A fresh patch had been sewn onto the shoulder, depicting a four eyed creature with a dagger through the side of its head. “Specialist” it read underneath.

He periodically flicked his eyes to the right, sneaking quick glances at the woman accompanying him down to Hangar 4. To say she was tall was an understatement. Mag often thought of himself as on the bigger side, but the woman’s squared shoulders easily brushed his ear in the cramped space they were sharing. Crimson hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders, like a cascade of blood drenching her black business suit.

Mag became increasingly aware of a speck on the corner of his spectacles, slowly and deliberately removing them. He awkwardly slipped his sleeve over his wrist and attempted to wipe the lens clean, but found himself struggling. It seemed military uniforms were tailored more for show and less function. After a moment, he slid them back on top of his ears, feeling the freshly buzzed undercut the barber had given him yesterday.

Now they were just smudged.

He removed them once more, doing the song and dance of inching his sleeve over his palm once more. Mag nearly jumped out of his skin as a white cloth was suddenly thrust in his direction, clenched between a pair of orange coated nails.

“Thank you, sir.” he said respectfully, taking hold of the hankie and thoroughly cleaning both of his lenses before handing it back to her. She retrieved the cloth and stowed it in her breast pocket without so much as a blink.

Thankfully, it was only another awkward two minutes before the elevator began to crawl to a halt. The digital display over the doors now showed a glowing red “4”, and once the lift had completely stopped they slowly slid open.

Mag waited a moment to allow his keeper off first. He was thankful that he did, the woman immediately brushing past him and into Hangar 4 without so much as a warning. He did his best to match her long strides, feeling more like he was speed walking than taking an introductory stroll.

Hangar 4 was relatively new, the concrete freshly poured just a few months prior to opening up to enlisted. The large shutter doors had been left open, a warm breeze rolling in from the desert of the Barrens below. Both heavy and light aircraft were being serviced by mechanics, Mag watching a pair of VTOLs slowly hover inside like metallic hornets.

They passed a long table that was covered in neatly organized firearms and ammunition, two men on opposite sides pausing their counts to watch the two strangers who had entered their domain. One a sergeant, one a fresh cadet much like Magnus. Once Mag and his escort were a sufficient distance away, one of them turned back to his companion.

“That must be our new rookie. He sure looks green enough,” the sergeant muttered to himself.

The younger cadet across from him merely threw up his hands and shrugged. “Forget the new guy. Who’s the babe he’s with?”

A flash of panic spread across the older man’s face and he quickly slapped his hand over the cadet’s mouth, holding it firm lest he say anything else. “Shut up idiot!” he hissed, looking over his shoulder as the new duo carried on without pause. “You really don’t know who that is?”

The cadet shook his head and let out a muffled noise that sounded like a mix between an excuse and an apology.

The older soldier removed his hand, placing both of his palms on the table and leaning forward. “That’s Ikana Tower,” he whispered.

The cadet still looked lost, motioning with his hand for his comrade to get on with it.

“Black Shutok.”

Realization caused the cadet’s eyes to bug out. He slapped his forehead and drug his palm to cover his mouth as he looked back towards the tall woman. “Shit! You don’t think she heard, do you?”

The sergeant smugly smirked and shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe she’ll burn you alive on the way out. Would make my job a hell of a lot easier.”

Mag and Ikana made their way into the second bay, walking up to a large carrier craft that had extended its ramp. A lone woman was inside, her features obscured by the dim lighting of the cargo bay as she ran a diagnostic.

“Lieutenant,” Ikana said, her voice deep and commanding.

The woman looked over at them, standing up and silently walking down the ramp. Everything about her seemed to scream professionalism. Her dirty-blonde hair was pulled into a regulation length ponytail. Her fatigues were spotless and wrinkle free. Even as she saluted them her form was perfect. It made the skeletal patterned bandana tied around her neck and over her mouth all the more jarring.

“President Tower,” she replied, bringing her feet together and arm over her chest in salute. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

Ikana was far from one to exchange pleasantries. “Mm. Yes,” she answered dismissively. “I’ve brought you Specialist Galven.”

Mag respectfully returned the salute. “It’s a pleasure, sir!” he barked back.

Ikana finally looked in his direction, something Mag really wished she hadn’t done. He had been avoiding her attention for the past half hour, and he could already feel himself shrinking in her gaze. Like she was just looking past him. “Magnus. This is Lieutenant Jean Salter. She will be your commanding officer from here on.”

“Sir!”

President Tower brushed some of her hair over her shoulder, flipping it as she turned on her heel. “I need to get going. She has your file and you know the reporting schedule,” she relayed, quickly leaving without waiting for either of their responses.

Mag was bewildered by such a woman, sneaking a glance back before resuming position in front of his new CO.

“At ease kid. She’s gone,” Salter said, the stoicism in her previous tone deflating from her words like a balloon. She turned and motioned for Mag to follow her to a small table surrounded by metal folding chairs. Salter pulled one out for herself, pointing to the one across from her for Mag. “Sit. I’ve got some questions.”

Mag felt the knot in his gut begin to twist. He had been dreading this part. He sat down in the hot seat, sitting straight up as he clasped his hands together and placed them on top of the table.

Salter was much more casual, grabbing a small canteen and unscrewing it. Before she brought it to her lips, she lightly tugged the bandana down and under her chin. That answered Mag’s question about the uniform violation.

A strip of white was easily visible through her right cheek, a tear running from the corner of her lips to her jawbone. Mag quickly realized it was the woman’s teeth. He did his best to focus elsewhere as she drank from her canteen with a practiced tilt of her head to ensure there was no spillage. When she was done she wiped her mouth, quickly slipping the skeletal cloth over her mouth before looking at her newest recruit.

Salter exhaled, shaking her head. “My husband has a…funny way of looking at things.”

Mag blinked a few times before softly smiling. “Sounds like a good guy.”

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Salter sighed, leaning forward and drumming her fingers on the table. “I’ve got enough trouble at home, so don’t make any more here, alright?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Mag answered.

“Good. So onto those questions,” Salter began, resting her chin on the back of her knuckles. “First. Why are you here? I thought guys like you usually had free reign to do whatever you pleased. Why tie yourself down with the Radiant Guard? I hear the Exterminator Shutok are always poaching talent.”

‘Guys like you…’ Mag thought. He had expected a bit of blowback. Shutok and the military tended to butt heads. He cleared his throat, looking at the woman. “I think you sort of answered your own question, sir,” he began. “If we could get the military and Shutok on the same page, wouldn’t it make the Barrens and everything beyond that much safer?”

Salter eyeballed him for a moment, her stony gaze picking apart everything about him. “Trying to set an example by joining the R.G. then?”

“I assure you I’m more than qualified as a soldier.”

She sat silently for a moment, watching him carefully. He was definitely a rookie, that much was clear. Normally the academy stripped most cadets of that sort of optimism. That said, that sort of attitude reminded her of a certain someone. Salter decided she’d drop it for now. Her posture loosened as she leaned back and rested her arm across the back of another chair.

“Your file says you’re from Lowlam,” Salter suddenly said. “I’m sorry about what happened there.”

Mag looked a little pensive before he shrugged. “I only grew up there. My sister and I left and came to Radiance when we were teenagers.”

“Leave anyone behind?”

The young man softly chuckled, a nostalgic smile on his lips as he stared down at his hands. “Yeah. A really good friend.”