“A mission? Isn’t that really, uh, soon?” Thorn asked. “I thought I would, I don’t know, get settled in, learn about the Crows, and all that stuff…”

  “Maybe if you were a regular probie we’d recruited, you’d get a bit more of an orientation, training, that kind of thing,” Gammon replied. “But there’s a few things that are different in your case, so we’re going to condense all of that into a single day.

  “That damn colonel wants me to whip you into shape as fast as possible.” Gammon shook her head. “You need to make progress on your probationary orders, and if you’re not worried about that, you should be. But the fact that he is pushing me to push you is far better than the alternative.”

  Thorn understood immediately. The alternative, of course, was that the colonel didn’t want him to succeed as a Crow at all and would look forward to kicking him out (and possibly taking him out) in a short sixty days.

  “I know my, uh, entry into the Crows was a bit different,” Thorn said. “I keep waiting for the other foot to drop. I half expected you were never going to come back for me.”

  “No matter how you convinced him to recruit you, Smithson is not the type of man to go back on his word,” Gammon said. “You wanted to be in the Crows. Whether it’s congratulations or condolences, you now are a full-time member with all the expectations and responsibilities of one.

  “But why would you think I wouldn’t come back for you?”

  “Because you sent me south to find Lief, after he disappeared on a contract with the Crows.”

  It had been bothering him, after Gammon appeared alongside the colonel and Beatrice. He hadn’t pieced it together right away, not in the thick of it, but the pieces had come together while sitting alone in the forest, unable to sleep. She had to have known, hadn’t she? That she was sending him off to his death. That whatever had gotten Lief, was going to get him.

  Gammon cocked her head to the side, puzzled for a moment, before she realized what Thorn was saying.

  “Look at me Thorn,” she said. Her eyes were grim, and tired. In that instant, she looked very old. “I didn’t know about the glitter farm. I didn’t know about Lief’s contract with Smithson. I swear to you, I did not know. Smithson didn’t tell anyone what was going on, because he didn’t know who to trust.

  “I didn’t know, not until it was too late.”

  There was a tightness in his chest. He didn’t challenge her. He wanted to believe her, and the rational part of his mind scoffed at the notion she had sent him south with full knowledge of what was happening. What benefit would she have gained in doing so? Nothing that Thorn could think of.

  The tightness eased but didn’t go away completely. Thorn nodded, then changed the subject.

  “Alright. So what can I expect at the Crows Guild? What’s this mission?”

  Gammon continued staring at him with her old, tired expression. She took a breath and let it out. “Your System is offline. It’s not unheard of, but it’s rare. It’ll make the logistics of being a member more difficult, and it makes any kind of participation in training ops all but impossible and not worth the effort. No, learning on the job is where it’s at.

  “And that’s why when a comm saying one of the best sergeants on the planet needed a last-minute sub, I jumped at it on your behalf. It’s a short escort mission, but hopefully it can lead to more work with her. She’s a real rising star, and you’ll learn more about what it means to be a Crow in one day with her than weeks spent reading manuals and conducting simulated training ops.”

  “Okay,” Thorn said. It made sense. He needed a break, at least a week off to rest and recover, but if there was a limited time opportunity, then Thorn was all for it.

  “Was it a mistake to sign you up for this mission?” Gammon gave him a questioning look.

  “No, not at all,” Thorn said. “I appreciate it. It sounds like a great opportunity. Who’s the sergeant you want me to work with?”

  “Her name is Sergeant Meridian Lee,” Gammon said. “I’ll introduce you once we’re back on base. She’s been with the Crows for six years, advanced quickly through the enlisted ranks and scouted for officer track about two years ago. She’s an Agrotis native, too. Formerly of the Hau Nation.”

  The Hau were an authoritarian government with territory far to the north, close to the equator. Unlike many of the looser governmental bodies on the planet that were dominated by the Guilds, the Hau were a power in and of themselves, with territories and colonies on multiple planets. They controlled their own Systems, zealously prevented settlement of non-Hau within their territory, and only had significant partnerships with the Wayfarer’s Guild and the merchant Guilds they traded with.

  While fiercely protective of their territory, none of the recently elected monarchs of the Hau had been interested in war or conquest. They focused their aggression on trade, particularly in pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, and consumer goods.

  “I’m sure you’ll get along. She’s a straight-shooter, no-nonsense type.”

  “That’s good; I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Thorn said.

  “I’ll let Meridian give you the details on the mission.” Gammon said, her smile still not quite touching the tired look in her eyes. “Touch down in one minute.”

  They spent the rest of the flight in companionable silence. The dropship landed with the barest hint of a lurch, and the turbines powered down. Thorn joined Gammon and exited out of the back of the dropship and onto the landing pad at the Crows’ nest above Aba.

  Thorn looked out at the sun rising over Aba and felt mixed emotions. The view was a familiar one; he’d lived in this city for years, struggling and hustling and pinching together a life for himself. But now it also felt strangely distant. Now he was above it all, both literally and figuratively, as a member of one of the most powerful Guilds in this corner of the galaxy.

  He turned to look down at the outpost itself. From this high up, on one of the dropship pads, the base appeared surprisingly small. It was nestled into a crack in the mountain rising above and descending below, a wall marking out a courtyard with common buildings inside it and many doors and entrances leading back into the mountain itself.

  A few members scurried across the courtyard below him, hustling into the mess hall for breakfast. Others gathered on the platform next to theirs, doing a final gear check before setting out on mission. The front gate, heavily embossed with images of crows in flight, opened up and allowed a truck to putter inside for a delivery, just like he’d used to do.

  “Alright, alright, you’ve had your moment but I don’t have all day,” Gammon said, pulling Thorn after her.

  Gammon led Thorn to a man waiting on the edge of the landing pad. He was tall, with gray hair, a large nose and sharp eyes. His dress uniform was impeccable, without a wrinkle or a touch of dust, and made Thorn feel like he and Gammon were significantly under-dressed.

  “This the one?” he asked.

  “Yes, Captain Delacroix,” Gammon said. “This is Recruit Thorn Farmer.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” Thorn said quickly. He wasn’t sure if he should salute. Or maybe shake the man’s hand. He knew of the captain, that he was the officer in charge of the base here at Aba, but he had never met him before.

  “Hm,” Captain Delacroix said. He stared at Thorn, looking him up and down. Judging him.

  “Normally I’d ask you why you want to join the Crows,” he asked. “What glory you will bring to our ranks. And what makes you think you’re good enough to join.”

  A strong wind whipped across the landing pad, rustling through Thorn’s long, dirty hair. Thorn wasn’t sure what to make of the man.

  “I’ll just have to show you,” Thorn said.

  “Hm. In that, I suppose you are correct.” Captain Delacroix held out a token, an embossed figure of a crow on a chain. Thorn took it.

  “I do not know what you did precisely, nor do I wish to know. But here we are. You have an opportunity; an opportunity that many in the galaxy have killed for and will kill for. I do not have to explain that to you.

  “I do have a need, however, to explain your responsibilities as a Crow, regardless of the irregularity of your entrance to our Guild and the hurried scheduling of this induction.” He paused and pointedly turned his gaze to Gammon for a brief moment.

  “You have a responsibility to the Guild, to uphold not only its contracts but also its honor. You have a responsibility to your fellow Crows, to defend their lives with your own, and to defend their obligations as your own. You have a responsibility to yourself, to perform your role to the best of your ability.

  “Will you do so?” Captain Delacroix waited expectantly.

  “With blood and with fire,” Thorn replied, copying exactly what Gammon had told him to say over a quick comm.

  “With blood and with fire,” Captain Delacroix repeated, then added. “Welcome to the Crows Guild.” He turned and walked away.

  “Umm,” Thorn said, turning to Gammon and holding up the token he’d received.

  “The Captain is, well, a little old school, but he means well,” Gammon said. “I think. He’s relatively new to this post. He’s particular about giving the badges out himself. Anyways.

  “If anyone ever challenges you over your presence in the outpost, show them that badge,” Gammon explained. “If people are doing their job, you will be challenged, so I’d wear it somewhere visible. Don’t let it out of your sight, and it goes without saying, but don’t ever lose it. Korakis has a similar one as well, and you are responsible for him.”

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  Thorn slipped the chain holding the Crow badge over his head.

  “The badge is coded specifically to you. Normally when you level up, it would automatically update with your relevant stats and power level, but since you’re offline, you’ll need to do that manually. Come to me when that’s the case.

  “It also has two other functions: it tracks your location, and it has a built-in shield. Neither will work for you, since your System is offline. It’s a small shield anyways, although better than nothing. It has saved many a Crow over the years.”

  It stood to reason that the Crows would want to keep tabs on their members, in case they were lost or needed rescuing. Thorn thought back to the woman Marta in the cave below the glitter farm; she hadn’t been wearing a badge. He absently rubbed the ring on his finger that he’d taken off her corpse. Maybe hers was stashed in the lockbox that the ring gave access to?

  Gammon started off at a brisk pace, and Thorn ran after her. What followed was a whirlwind tour of the base operations to get him set up as a recruit. Normally all of the logistics would be accomplished over his System interface, but that wasn’t an option for Thorn. Instead, Gammon had to escort him around to all the functions inside of the base to both introduce him to the right people and get things sorted out manually.

  Their first stop was Medical. Thorn lay down on a cold steel bed and automatic straps deployed with a hiss to lock him down tight. Thorn didn’t think he was going to like this.

  “Don’t move,” the grumpy and disheveled nurse ordered, while Gammon stood to the side tapping her foot.

  What followed was a nightmare of needles, probes and tests all done in rapid, non-stop fashion. It felt like forever before all of the diagnostic tools and prehensile appendages disappeared back beneath the table.

  “Congratulations,” the nurse said in a monotone. “You’ll live.”

  Turning to Gammon, he continued. “He’s cleared for active duty. He has a large number of surface wounds, abrasions, and muscle fiber micro-tears. And he smells. But no major injuries.”

  Well that was just rude. Thorn knew he needed a bath, but come on.

  “He’ll need more vaccines if he goes off world, but that can wait,” the nurse continued. “I’ve put in a red ticket to remind him. Otherwise, he pulls as power level six, unknown System, but likely a low-numbered fork due to the location of the physical integration site. An abysmal p-score, so don’t go looking for machine tech upgrades. Decent mental enhancements estimated above a 2x. His bodily enhancements are almost off the charts though, for someone his power level. Well over four, maybe even five times a baseline value.”

  Gammon raised an eye at that revelation but didn’t comment.

  “Anything else you need before I return to my sleep shift?”

  “No, and thank you.”

  Thorn sat up and rubbed at a few of the places he’d been stung with a needle.

  “So, about those Body attributes, I actually had a question,” Thorn said. He wanted to know what that pill had done to him and if leveling up when he received no benefit to his bodily attributes was a long-term problem.

  “Not now,” Gammon said. “I know what you want to ask, but we’re not going to talk about it here. The short answer is: don’t worry about it. Just level up as you need to, and ignore it.

  “But that does bring up another good point, so I’ll make it official: you are under direct orders not to discuss what happened from the last time you left Aba to when I picked you up in a dropship, unless I, or another officer, grade five or above, tells you to. Understood?”

  At the same time that Gammon spoke, Thorn also received a comm via the direct link he had set up with Gammon using his Integrate Skill. In his status, under the section titled “Orders,” he had a new one. Orders were similar to Contracts, in that there were System-enforced consequences should he violate the terms of the Order. There were valid exceptions to following Orders, of course, all laid out in his original contract with the Guild.

  “Understood.”

  “It’s not so much a gag order as it is for your own benefit. You should not explain to anyone pulling rank on you the circumstances of how you joined the Crows, and an Order is the best excuse for that.”

  “Thanks,” Thorn said, and meant it. While it would be tempting to brag about his exploits to new friends and teammates, maybe even name drop a certain brash colonel, he didn’t want to tell anyone about his System or where it came from.

  “Ok, next up is the Bursar.”

  A short walk across the courtyard and through an unassuming, unmarked door and they were in the Crows’ most holy of holies: the office where they got paid. Most Crows were paid their stipend of quints through their Systems, but they would still come to see the Bursar in person on occasion. Gammon explained why as they walked.

  “You’ll need to come here at minimum once a month, to receive your pay and sign off on relevant expenses incurred against your pay. In addition, it’s a good idea to come here after every mission as well, or if you are in specific need of something.

  “Quints aren’t the only form of compensation that Crows receive. Some missions reward cores, which would likely be of interest to your bird friend. Others reward goods or services, especially if those goods or services were special capabilities received from clients in exchange for the services that we rendered.

  “A good example is purchasing a machine tech upgrade at cost. New Systems also run through this office, and I know you are interested in a new System, but I need to warn you. You already know that they are incredibly expensive, but what you don’t know is that transitioning to a new System will require your chain of command to sign off on it.”

  Thorn frowned at that news. Of course, now that he was inside the Guild, they would want to make sure he didn’t make a stupid decision and render himself combat-ineffective. He still didn’t like it.

  “Shouldn’t it be my decision, if I want to change my System?”

  “Of course,” Gammon replied, opening the door to the office. Ice-cold air rushed out as they stepped inside.

  “It’s also your commanding officer’s decision to push for your removal after you get rid of the thing that made you attractive as a Crow in the first place.”

  Thorn thought that his agreement not to blow up Smithson’s precious golden pills was what had made him an attractive candidate. You could also make the case that he had survived a dead zone, which was no mean feat.

  Gammon made an excellent point though. Maybe his System itself was also attractive.

  “So how many Crows have the same System—”

  “Don’t know, and don’t ask,” Gammon said.

  “Next,” a bored voice called out. An angry-looking woman stormed past them, slamming the door on her way out. Gammon ushered Thorn forward to the Bursar sitting behind a high desk counter.

  He was the oldest man that Thorn had seen inside the Crows’ base. He had deep lines ingrained in his skin, age spots and a close-cropped shock of white hair. There was a much larger room stretching out behind the counter, where Thorn could hear the distant murmur of other people working.

  Thorn held out his badge, and the man scanned it.

  “New recruit,” he said. “Offline payment. Explains the escort then.”

  He gave a sideways glance at Gammon.

  “Come here and see me the first of every month, or the soonest day after, if you are on a mission. You can either bank your pay, or withdraw it in the form of cores or other equivalents, although there is a cost for that.

  “You have a signing bonus equivalent to—” the man squinted, even though the information on his System HUD should be easily readable. “Equivalent to fifty thousand quints.”

  Thorn wasn’t sure he’d heard the man correctly. He glanced at Gammon, who gave him an innocent shrug.

  “I’m sorry, how much did you say?” Thorn asked.

  “Fifty thousand. Do you wish to withdraw any?”

  “We haven’t seen the Quartermaster or been to the Armory yet,” Gammon interjected. “And you’re going to want to spend some of that signing bonus to make yourself mission ready.”

  Fifty thousand was a lot. Not as much as he’d had inside of the dead zone, and far more than he’d ever expected to receive as what? A signing bonus? It felt like a joke.

  Thorn turned to Gammon, a question on his lips.

  “Orders,” she reminded him, and he sighed. He’d ask Gammon later about this “signing bonus” that she’d snuck into his contract, if only to thank her for it. It certainly couldn’t have been Smithson’s idea.

  But wait; he’d almost forgotten. He owed Gammon for loaning him enough quints to level up.

  “Can you forward five thousand to Gammon?” Thorn asked.

  “To ‘Gammon,’ eh?” the Bursar looked down the end of his nose at Thorn. “I certainly can forward funds to the Chief Warrant Officer.”

  “You don’t have to pay me back right away,” Gammon interjected.

  “I don’t like having debts,” Thorn said. “Also, how much do I owe you for the, uh, extra part?”

  He didn’t want to come out and say the command module he’d put inside of Korakis, at least not in front of the Bursar.

  “You don’t have to pay me back now. That’ll run all the rest of your cash, a good forty thousand or so. And like I said, you’re going to have other expenses.”

  Thorn pulled the cores he’d stolen from Grif’s henchmen and put them on the counter. “Can you forward 45,000 quints to Gammon, and then deposit these in my account?”

  “Happily,” the Bursar said. He picked up each core and examined them closely, likely using some kind of skill to determine their value.

  “With these transactions complete, your new balance is 79,455 quints.”

  The next time Thorn saw Grif, he’d have to thank her for the extra funds.

  “You mentioned monthly pay. How much will that be?” Thorn asked.

  “It will vary depending on grade. You are currently grade 11, the lowest grade, and that level receives 900 quints per month. If you don’t wash out, you’ll likely be grade 10, private second class, within a few months, and that is 2400 quints per month. And that doesn’t count bonuses, either from mission completions or end-of-year unit bonuses.”

  As a living wage, it was quite excellent, but in terms of leveling his System? Those bonuses had better be good.

  “And can I withdraw cores in the same way I just deposited them?”

  “Within reason, and depending on the size that we have in stock,” the Bursar said. “We give market rates.”

  The Bursar held his hands together and steepled his fingers.

  “If you don’t mind me giving you unsolicited advice…” He paused, then continued when Thorn nodded. “Don’t withdraw anything until after you’ve seen the Quartermaster and the Armorer, and then only if raising your level would aid in your next mission.

  “Because your System is offline, I also strongly recommend you let the Crows hold onto your funds, and then if you need to pay a System fee or contract, you can have the third party route the bill here. You can also pre-approve certain transactions, such as leases, and we will deduct them automatically for you.”

  “I appreciate the advice, and I’ll follow it,” Thorn said after a moment. He really shouldn’t spend all of his quints until he had a better lay of the land; better to keep some cash in reserve. “Forwarding third-party invoices will also be very helpful, so thank you for doing that.”

  The Bursar raised an eyebrow. “It’s nothing special, any Crow can take advantage of our services. Consider this your only warning: do not attempt to spend quints that you do not have.”

  “Yes sir, I won’t do that.”

  At the “sir” the old Bursar rolled his eyes and shook his head at Gammon.

  “They get younger every year, and yet they make the same old promises.”

  “This one’s a good egg.” Gammon grinned.

  “An egg that has yet to hatch,” the Bursar sniffed.

  “You might have me there,” Gammon laughed. “Let’s go Thorn, I think we’ve bothered the Bursar enough for one day. No rest for the wicked.”

  “You shouldn’t call yourself wicked,” Thorn replied, intentionally twisting Gammon’s words. He could hear a dry chuckle from the Bursar behind him before they exited into the courtyard.

  “Ha!” Gammon said. “You made a good impression, somehow. But it’s always a good idea to be on the Bursar’s good side.”

  Being friends with the man in charge of the quints was a no-brainer.

  “I know we’re walking quickly to the next stop on your list,” Thorn called out to Gammon. “But would it be okay if we checked in on Lief and Korakis first? I was wondering how they were doing.”

  “Of course,” Gammon said. “I’ll walk you there.”