Desmoterion, page 2
Trent strode to his desk and sat, eyes locking on the recruit. “Control, I said. Actions like that get men killed.”
Rising unsteadily to his feet, Girish wheezed and slumped into the chair. He glowered at Trent. “How did you—”
“As intended.” Trent leaned forward. “Succeed, and you’ll defend yourself from anything, including hotheads. I wasn’t born here either.”
“Bet you were a model student.” Girish snorted.
Trent tilted his head. “Are you ready to listen, or shall we continue this pointless back and forth?”
“Or what? Tell me, what if I refuse your demands?” The recruit folded his muscular arms.
“You’ll be killed.”
Girish frowned. “Just like that?”
“Correct. Desmoterion tolerates nothing but the best.” Trent typed a few things into his laptop to bring up some files. “Though first, we need to get you up to speed. This will require martial arts and weapons training for several months. After that, mission training and eventually, if you’re good enough, fieldwork.”
“Fieldwork?” Girish shook his head. “I guess it’s not a geography trip? Are you some sort of spy school?”
Trent’s eyebrow rose.
“So what, I do this for a few years instead of my prison sentence, and then I’m out?” Girish rolled his eyes at it.
“They’ve eliminated your prison sentence. In fact, from this moment on, your past life is gone. You were never born, never lived or died. You’re nothing right now.”
“What about my family?”
“What family? You have no brothers or sisters, and your parents are dead. You don’t exist, Girish Kannan, except in our world. You’ll complete the required training if you want to continue to exist. I expect you to fully comply and excel in everything.”
Girish laughed at the seriousness in Trent’s voice. “You sure put a lot of hope in me. What if I just decide not to bother?”
“I already told you, you’ll be killed. They don’t fuck about, so I’m telling you straight. They always weed out the weak in favor of the strong recruits, so decide which you want to be because it’s a life-or-death decision. Besides, don’t you want to take me on after training? Have a chance to beat the shit out of me as you tried to earlier? If anything, it’s a reason to live instead of laying down and dying like a coward.”
Girish’s face twisted in anger.
Trent rose from his desk to stand in front of Girish’s chair. “I see I’ve found something to motivate you.”
Girish left his chair to stand with his chest pressed against Trent’s. “I can’t wait to beat the fuck out of you, and wipe that smug look off your face once and for all.”
“That concludes our meeting. I’ll monitor your progress and point out things to work on if necessary. Whether you like me or not, I want you to succeed. If anything to prove you're stronger than those assholes who beat you down in prison.”
“Why do you even care? I’m insignificant to you.” Girish looked at his own reflection in Trent’s tinted glasses. Did the man never take them off?
Trent tapped the code into the number pad. “I have my reasons.”
The door opened, and the man in black from earlier was waiting outside.
Trent motioned at Girish. “Give him a room and some clothes. Tomorrow morning, he’ll begin training with Mike.”
* * *
Alone in his office once again, Trent turned his attention to his monitor. He cycled through a network of surveillance cameras scattered throughout the facility, monitoring the new recruit as he walked into the crew quarters.
A solitary single bed dominated the spartan cell as sole respite. The walls gleamed with their impeccable white finish, and the beds acted as transient islands, where clothes came to rest, only to be whisked away each morning for either laundering or disposal, contingent on their wear and tear. Unlike prison, there was no lock on the door, and no desk or chair.
Trent had his own dresser filled with black clothes and shoes. Beyond that, his room looked as bare and simple as Girish’s. The similarities echoed eerily, like a stark reminder of his past.
The memory of the day he’d transitioned from the common quarters into his current refuge flashed vividly in his mind. The solace of being away from the ceaseless laments about food quality and clothing styles was a cherished privilege. It was, after all, safer to stand apart from those he was destined to oversee in Desmoterion’s prison. Since Trent was the overseer of recruits, he roomed far from the bulk of the masses near the leader’s abode.
All he needed was some crazed recruit trying to kill him while he slept, assuming he would be tired enough to sleep that hard.
His days unfurled within the confines of his office, supervising via monitors and training modules. Missions awaited plotting and execution, meetings with the enigmatic leader demanded his presence and physical conditioning was requisite to maintain his razor-sharp reflexes.
The specter of his past haunted his attempts at relaxation, shattering the tranquility he longed for. It intruded, unwelcome and relentless. Sleep, though it tempted him, squandered precious hours better spent elsewhere.
* * *
Trent made his way toward the dimly lit workout area, a sanctuary of solitude at this late hour. The quiet was welcome and rare enough.
As he approached the treadmills, his thoughts inevitably gravitated toward Girish. Trent initiated the machine with a brisk tap, selecting one of the more demanding running programs, and without ceremony, began to run, his footfalls a rhythmic cadence against the belt.
“You should be asleep right now.”
A voice to his right pierced the stillness, but Trent paid no attention, determined to lose himself in the pursuit of physical exertion.
“Ignoring it is slowly wearing you down.”
Trent reluctantly shifted his gaze to the source of the voice — a man with close-cropped hair and penetrating watery-blue eyes. “You should be resting as well. Kannan begins his training with you tomorrow.”
Mike folded his arms across his ebony tank top, concern etched on his features. “True, but ensuring you go to bed as well shouldn’t be my nightly ritual.”
Trent chewed his lip, pushing himself harder on the treadmill, his heart pounding in synchrony with his footfalls.
Mike inched closer to the treadmill. “I see it hasn’t subsided, has it?”
Trent exhaled, his inner turmoil threatening to surface, but he held it at bay to avoid triggering the worst reaction. “There’s nothing to discuss. I’ll confront it in due course. Spare yourself the worry.”
Mike extended a hand to touch Trent’s arm, his voice unwavering. “I’m serious, Trent. You might not see it, but I do. It’s chipping away at you, bit by bit.”
Trent shrugged off Mike’s hand and powered down the treadmill. “Seems I won’t find peace tonight.”
Mike reached for Trent’s arm as he walked away, but Trent slipped away, leaving a heavy sigh in his wake. He headed toward the quarters designated for the senior crew, an enclave where, at least for a while, he could grapple with his inner demons in private.
* * *
A man in black clothes dragged Girish to the workout area. He’d been in the middle of an intense dream when they pulled him out of bed protesting and shoved clothes at him while telling him he had to get dressed in a few minutes or practice naked as if that were a genuine option.
In all of his life, he’d never dressed so fast.
He found himself among eight other students who looked equally as bewildered.
A man with short, buzzed hair and a faint beard eyed them all with distaste. “Good morning!”
Not one recruit replied.
The man laughed and motioned to himself. “Name’s Mike and I’ll be your instructor in weaponless combat.” He stopped to circle the recruits. “You’ll learn every manner of defending yourself against any attackers, whether they be armed with weapons or bigger than you are. You’ll know how to react to any situation.”
A blond recruit flinched when Mike stopped in front of him.
Mike laughed at him. “You’ll learn to anticipate every movement from your opponent. Every action has a reaction, and you’ll learn them or die trying.”
Standing bolt upright, Girish remembered back to his time in prison and when he’d tried to avoid any attention.
“Your body should be fluid like water and not stiff as a board.” Mike wandered over to stand in front of Girish. “Do not do what his man is doing.” Mike reached out, striking with his hand so fast that no one saw it. Girish tumbled to the ground. “Doing this will leave you off balance and vulnerable to an attack. I’ll teach you this over time.”
Girish scrambled back up to his feet and lunged at Mike, which he dodged, and Girish fell to the ground again.
Mike laughed but turned back to the recruits with a serious face. “Never attack in anger. Emotions should never get the best of you, or you will die in the field. I’ll teach you how to keep your emotions in check by using them against your opponent instead of acting foolishly like Kannan here.”
Girish grumbled under his breath and returned to stand with the other recruits, who all snickered at his actions.
* * *
Trent climbed the stairs to the second floor, bypassed the leader’s office, and stood against the railing to watch the training area. He looked down at Mike’s class, where Girish struggled to defend himself against the other recruits.
Some had been there for months and had more training than Girish but needed to catch up, falling behind the standard expected of them. They eliminated and replaced most with newer recruits if they didn’t improve. There was little slack given to those who didn’t put in the effort.
Girish dodged a shot to his chest, toppling the other recruit to the ground with a leg sweep move.
Trent wondered where Girish had learned such a thing. Maybe he’d seen someone do it in prison and remembered it or just improvised after being sent to the ground enough.
Mike went over to Girish and his sparring partner to assess their progress. “What the hell was that, Kannan?”
“I figured it was appropriate since he took a run at me.”
“Good initiative.” Mike nodded, glanced up at Trent, and smiled.
Trent didn’t return the smile. One little move wasn’t going to help him much. However, it was a step in the right direction.
The sparring partners stopped and turned their attention back to Mike. He grabbed a blond recruit who’d been brought in a few months earlier and put him in front of the class. “The object of self-defense is to wait for your opponent to make the first move. Jaxon, come at me.”
Jaxon froze in place.
“I said, come at me!”
Jaxon backed away from Mike.
Mike glanced up at Trent.
Trent sighed at the look and moved away from the railing.
Jaxon was as good as dead.
* * *
Rubbing his sore arms, Girish headed over to Emyr’s domain. He looked down at the various weapons on the table and wondered if anyone would notice if he swiped one that might help him get out of hell.
“Don’t even think about it, boyo.”
Girish froze at the serious tone in Emyr’s sing-song accent.
Emyr laughed at Girish’s scared face and grabbed some weapons off the table. “There’s only one way out of here, you die. Other than that, you’re stuck with us, but better than that, we’re not so bad.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?” Girish followed Emyr into his stock room, filled with clear boxes of gear along the walls.
Emyr stowed away two handguns. “Because every recruit thinks the same. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Girish, “You are human, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course. Not like Dupont. Is that asshole like a cyborg or something?”
“Trent is, er, complicated,” Emyr closed the bin. “Not human, a Morib, a warrior tribe from a different planet, but a lot like us. You hate him, as all recruits do, just because he took you from prison. It is his job, not his choice. Eventually, you’ll trust Trent with your life in the field.”
“That’ll never happen.” Girish moved out of the storage area. “I’d rather kill him than have him protect me from harm. He needs to be taken down a peg.”
Emyr picked up more weapons from the table. “Suit yourself, but I’d rather have Trent than anyone else. There’s no one better than him, nor will there ever be.”
“What about Mike?”
With a wry smile, Emyr paused, taking the clips out of the automatic rifles and placing them inside another bin. “Mike’s good as well, but he has an emotional weakness despite what he preaches in class. If anyone found out about it, it would make him weak. Trent, on the other hand, has no weakness. He’s the perfect soldier.”
“Yeah, well, not for long. I intend to take him down once I train up. It’s the only thing driving me.”
“Well, it’s something, at least. Just don’t let revenge ruin your life too much. A goal to beat Trent is fine, but you’ll have to trust him sometimes. At least to get you out of dangerous situations when you’re trapped.”
* * *
The leader’s office featured a large window behind a central black desk. Trent entered and stood in front of the desk, ignoring the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
Their leader, who didn’t have a specific name known to Trent, sat back in his oversized black leather chair. He studied Trent’s body language for a time, which made Trent wonder if he was somehow sizing him up or maybe just waiting for Trent to act.
As Mike always preached to any of his students, let the opponent make the first move. By making the first move, you open yourself up to attack, lessening your chance of success.
Sadly, it never worked for Trent with their leader. Their leader would wait forever if need be because he knew the wisdom of waiting. It became a game, waiting for the moment to act or concede defeat.
Either way, both waited until a time just before patience started to waver and anger started to build.
Finally, the leader broke the silence.
“How is the new recruit, Kannan, progressing?”
Trent took a deep breath and spoke, thankful for the break in the long silence. “It is early days for him, but Mike reports he is a fast learner and he’s making good progress.”
“Good, that’s what we need to make up for the weaker elements. Speaking of those in need of weeding out, Jaxon has fallen too far behind. He’ll need to be eliminated.”
Trent nodded, knowing it was coming. His eyes could see it for the past month without the leader telling him.
“You will carry this out.”
Trent’s brow furrowed in confusion. Surely, the cancellation team would do the job.
The leader’s eyebrow rose.
Trent noticed it, a sure sign that he was taking too long to respond.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
Trent ignored the growing unrest inside. “No, but I am a little confused. The cancellation team is suited for this type of thing, are they not?”
“That is correct, and normally, I would send Jaxon to them, but I want you to do it. Think of it as a test.”
Trent’s jaw clenched; the idea of killing someone under him was not a test he wanted to take.
“I want it carried out tonight. That way Leclercq doesn’t have to waste his time and effort on a lost cause that undermines his work. Obeying leads to loyalty, while refusal leads to chaos.”
Trent unclenched his jaw and pushed his emotions further to the side. “Very well. I will do it after this meeting.”
The leader smiled, his gleaming white teeth flashing in triumph.
Trent turned around, thinking about how he’d handle such a thing, and was about to leave when the leader called out.
“Take him to a cancellation room for easy cleanup. I expect you to obtain him without others seeing him going with you. The last thing we need is an uprising among the recruits.”
Trent nodded but said nothing in response.
There was nothing else to do but carry out the mission.
* * *
Thankfully, Jaxon’s room was at the far end of the crew's quarters. This ensured that other recruits wouldn’t get wind of what might be happening. Though soon enough, they’d see his absence and know full well what had occurred.
Trent would deal with such things as he had in the past, but it wasn’t a task he relished.
As soon as he entered Jaxon’s room, Trent immediately realized that Jaxon knew it was time.
The blond recruit sat on his bed, looking at Trent as he walked in. He said, “It’s time, then?”
Trent advanced over to the bed to stand in front of him. “Yes.”
“I can’t say that I’m surprised. I’ve been waiting for it to happen for months now. I just want this to be over and be free of this tyrannical shithole.”
“You’ll never be free, even in death. Not to mention this is the coward’s way out. You don’t have to like what you do here or even like what others do, but it’s a roof over your head and away from prison where you were beaten up on a daily basis.”
“You missed out on one thing. You can call us recruits, but this is just another prison.” Jaxon scoffed. “I’d take death over this. This ridiculous way of living, waiting for death to occur or taking another’s life. What kind of life is that?”
“No life is perfect, not even mine. The key is to keep living so you can find that perfect moment to keep you going.”
Jaxon leaned back and laughed. “You really think such a thing exists? You’re a fool.”
“Maybe, but it keeps me going.” Trent pulled Jaxon to his feet. “Come on.”
Jaxon walked with Trent to the soundproof rooms with nauseating pink and yellow-colored walls at the far end of the complex. Trent always wondered why they painted them such absurd colors but never got a straight answer. The cancellation team, consisting of two people, always ignored his requests for answers. In fact, they never really spoke to Trent at all, giving him nods when he dropped off a recruit or prisoner for elimination.
