brought with them, had managed to cobble together canvas sheets, stainless-steel poles, and ingenuity to create a world-class hospital in the middle of a mud pit.
On the other hand, that hospital was overwhelmed with activity day and night, which was a testament to how dangerous the Source was. Between the range of native fauna that were just plain predatory or deadly (birds that barked sonic booms, snakes that spit poison, giant flying things with beaks that could swallow a car), to the sentient indig that hated them, there were more than enough ways to get killed out here.
But not all the indig hated them. The goblins were divided into warring tribes that were spread across hundreds of villages that dotted the landscape around the FOB. Some of these tribes were Defenders, who saw the humans as interlopers. The Defenders grossly outnumbered the few Embracer tribes, who believed the humans had come home when they entered the Source, and that it was their duty to assist, even protect them. Many of the Embracers worked as contractors on the FOB, and the cash was full of them in blue jumpsuits and hospital scrubs, carrying trays of medical equipment, binding blood-pressure cuffs, or reading thermometers.
He made his way from the trauma ward to another tent under a sign reading assessment/ suppression. He paused and sighed, shoulders slumping. Remember they’re trying to help. The sooner you get a handle on what’s going on with your Latency, the sooner you can be through with this.
The tent could host more patients, but they’d cleared it for Bookbinder’s appointment. Two Suppressors lounged at the far end of the long room formed by the canvas walls, playing cards.
Not that one was needed, let alone two. Bookbinder’s Latency remained fully stifled.
A white-coated army doctor stood beside a gurney piled with medical equipment. “Morning, Colonel. How are you feeling?”
“Lonely. Pissed off.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, sir. But it’ll help you call the magic. You ready for the next round?”
“Let’s get this over with. I have to get back to my desk.” So you can fill out more spreadsheets?
The doctor motioned to one of the Suppressors and picked up a black plastic Taser from the gurney. He thumbed the trigger, sending a short arc of blue electricity between the electrodes.
“No way, Doc,” Bookbinder said.
“It’s just a little shock, sir. I have it at the lowest setting. We have to get the magic called up.”
Bookbinder motioned the doc back. “No.”
The doctor took a step forward. “This is standard, sir. You said you wanted to get this over with so . . .”
“Stand down, damn it! That’s an order!”
The doctor froze, as did the Suppressor. Nice going. You’re going to lead men by screaming at them?
“I’m sorry . . .” Don’t apologize, you idiot! You haven’t done anything wrong! “What I mean is, I don’t need it.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I mean I can call the current on my own. I figured out how to . . . what do you call it?”
“Drawing, sir?” the Suppressor asked.
“That’s right,” Bookbinder said. “I can Draw, and I can push it back.”
The doctor cocked his head to one side. “How can you tell?”
Bookbinder shrugged. “I can feel it . . .”
The doctor and the Suppressor exchanged glances, then the doctor turned back to him. “Show me.”
Bookbinder leaned into his frustration and sorrow. He missed his family, Taylor wouldn’t see him, this doctor wanted to tase him first thing every morning. He felt the current respond to the spike in his emotions, the tide pulsing in his veins, making his temples throb.
The Suppressor arched his eyebrows. “He’s pegged, Doc. I’m not doing anything.”
The doctor turned back to the gurney, making notes on his tablet computer. “How long have you been able to do this?”
“Not long,” Bookbinder said. “I think I figured it out in my office a day or so ago.”
“Why didn’t you say
On the other hand, that hospital was overwhelmed with activity day and night, which was a testament to how dangerous the Source was. Between the range of native fauna that were just plain predatory or deadly (birds that barked sonic booms, snakes that spit poison, giant flying things with beaks that could swallow a car), to the sentient indig that hated them, there were more than enough ways to get killed out here.
But not all the indig hated them. The goblins were divided into warring tribes that were spread across hundreds of villages that dotted the landscape around the FOB. Some of these tribes were Defenders, who saw the humans as interlopers. The Defenders grossly outnumbered the few Embracer tribes, who believed the humans had come home when they entered the Source, and that it was their duty to assist, even protect them. Many of the Embracers worked as contractors on the FOB, and the cash was full of them in blue jumpsuits and hospital scrubs, carrying trays of medical equipment, binding blood-pressure cuffs, or reading thermometers.
He made his way from the trauma ward to another tent under a sign reading assessment/ suppression. He paused and sighed, shoulders slumping. Remember they’re trying to help. The sooner you get a handle on what’s going on with your Latency, the sooner you can be through with this.
The tent could host more patients, but they’d cleared it for Bookbinder’s appointment. Two Suppressors lounged at the far end of the long room formed by the canvas walls, playing cards.
Not that one was needed, let alone two. Bookbinder’s Latency remained fully stifled.
A white-coated army doctor stood beside a gurney piled with medical equipment. “Morning, Colonel. How are you feeling?”
“Lonely. Pissed off.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, sir. But it’ll help you call the magic. You ready for the next round?”
“Let’s get this over with. I have to get back to my desk.” So you can fill out more spreadsheets?
The doctor motioned to one of the Suppressors and picked up a black plastic Taser from the gurney. He thumbed the trigger, sending a short arc of blue electricity between the electrodes.
“No way, Doc,” Bookbinder said.
“It’s just a little shock, sir. I have it at the lowest setting. We have to get the magic called up.”
Bookbinder motioned the doc back. “No.”
The doctor took a step forward. “This is standard, sir. You said you wanted to get this over with so . . .”
“Stand down, damn it! That’s an order!”
The doctor froze, as did the Suppressor. Nice going. You’re going to lead men by screaming at them?
“I’m sorry . . .” Don’t apologize, you idiot! You haven’t done anything wrong! “What I mean is, I don’t need it.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I mean I can call the current on my own. I figured out how to . . . what do you call it?”
“Drawing, sir?” the Suppressor asked.
“That’s right,” Bookbinder said. “I can Draw, and I can push it back.”
The doctor cocked his head to one side. “How can you tell?”
Bookbinder shrugged. “I can feel it . . .”
The doctor and the Suppressor exchanged glances, then the doctor turned back to him. “Show me.”
Bookbinder leaned into his frustration and sorrow. He missed his family, Taylor wouldn’t see him, this doctor wanted to tase him first thing every morning. He felt the current respond to the spike in his emotions, the tide pulsing in his veins, making his temples throb.
The Suppressor arched his eyebrows. “He’s pegged, Doc. I’m not doing anything.”
The doctor turned back to the gurney, making notes on his tablet computer. “How long have you been able to do this?”
“Not long,” Bookbinder said. “I think I figured it out in my office a day or so ago.”
“Why didn’t you say
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