1.12.1

Suits of Significance

“This isn’t gonna work.” Rue looked Astrid up and down while they prepped for their duo mission in the cargo hold.

“Excuse me?”

“You look like a civilian.”

“And that’s… bad?”

“We’re not touring museums here. They need to be able to picture us tearing shit up, get it? They’re not going to sell to some meek schoolgirl.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?” Astrid argued.

“More weapons. A haircut. Something that doesn’t scream ‘please don’t hit me’?”

“Great. Helpful. Thanks.”

“Not everyone has something to prove, Rue,” Tenya interjected as she appeared at Astrid’s side.

The soldier scoffed. “You do out here.”

“Come on,” Tenya tugged Astrid’s elbow. “Let’s do something with that hair.”

Rue rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

A clatter of boxes and lockers trumpeted Rue’s diverted attention, and Tenya drew Astrid instead to a crate, to sit.

Agile fingers combed through strawberry locks while Astrid stared ahead.

“Should I be doing something different with her?”

“Nope. That’s pretty much it.” Tenya dismissed the question. “You ready for this?”

“How can I know?”

“It’s not about knowing what’s coming. You have to know that whatever comes, you’ll adapt.” The chief’s long digits began to weave strands close to Astrid’s scalp.

“So, there’s only two of us. What’s the plan?”

“Rue has command in this operation. And she knows this breed of outcasts a little better than most. Save maybe Romo. Ten to one odds she would have been a raider were her family not so staunchly renowned in the Service. You’ll follow her lead.”

Astrid sat quiet as a thin long braid began to stretch from Tenya’s fingertips.

“Supposedly, this Benson operates out of a strip club. Penny Station is pretty much the new Wild West so… you might see some things. Lord bless your poor innocent eyes.

“She’ll get you a meeting, you’ll sit and try to look confident. Comfortable. Get Benson to offer his best. Don’t ask questions, that will just make him suspicious. You need to come off as a client. One with ambitions and as much to lose as he in a failed deal. These guys love the security of knowing their investors need as much anonymity as they do.

“Since Rue will do most the talking, you just need to look tough. It’s okay to appear as backup. That sort of thing is common.”

A second plait of shining hair joined the first.

“Best case scenario, you get shown some merchandise to close the deal and we confirm this outlet. Maybe find some threads to follow.

“Medium case, the broker offers a deal, but it’s not the arsenal we’re hunting. Dead end.”

“And worst case?”

“They figure out who you are or who you’re working for and shut you out. Or maybe they just don’t buy your story at all and kill you before they even discover you’re military.”

Astrid swallowed. “Is that really likely? I mean, this is just a meeting, right? It’s supposed to be about show.”

Tenya sighed glumly. “There’s always a chance, Astrid. That’s what makes this so hard.”

A third weave of hair fell forward and another tight row fell into place.

Soon, Astrid realized, her trust in Rue, a woman who already threatened to oversee her death, would determine the possibility of her surviving a peer-based performance.

The prospect chilled her.

“We’ll be observing and listening from the dock. Dell will track your movements. There’s a lot of organized crime out here, so comm units aren’t uncommon. But don’t acknowledge or talk to us unless things go south. You don’t want to give yourselves away.

“Anders and I will be geared and ready. We can get to you if things go bad, but it’ll take a few minutes. You and Rue will have to hold your own until then. If that happens, watch her back, and yours, and she’ll handle the brunt of it.”

A fourth plait slipped forward over Astrid’s shoulder.

“Braids?”

“Relax, I’m only doing half. You’ll look like a sexy Viking by the time I’m done,” Tenya teased. “And, better yet, it will keep the hair out of your eyes if things get messy. For people this far out, your look matters more than you would expect. You have to exude a formidable ‘reputation’. You wear makeup?”

“Um, no?” Astrid scowled. “But Rue doesn’t either.”

“Hmph. Rue also looks like she can rip you apart with her bare hands. It’s like in nature, Kitten. You have to have teeth and claws, or bright colors and harsh lines. Makeup is a lot of upkeep and not always pragmatic out here, so it’s not something expected of you in the Service. But in this case, it’ll benefit your story. I’ll fix you up before you go out.”

Footsteps descended the staircase, and Astrid lifted her head, expecting to see Romo. But instead, Karth stepped from the shadows, a large case in his outstretched arms.

“Commander,” Tenya greeted.

“Chief.”

But the officer came to stand before the Channeler. His deep-set eyes observed the pair before he set his load on the deck.

“Time for your first suit.” He nudged the box toward Astrid. “Tenya will have to help you get fitted. It’s not painted in our colors yet. But for this op, it should work perfect.”

Tenya paused her work, but when Astrid looked over her shoulder, the woman smiled in knowing excitement.

“About time. Go on, girl.”

Both commander and chief watched Astrid scoot forward and search the seams of the case. When she located the latches, she popped the top.

Stainless steel plates glinted in the dim light of the hold. Matte and sleek, a breastplate, pauldrons, and arm guards lay neatly packed amidst a perfect cradle of textured foam.

With reverence, Astrid clutched her fingers around the material and lifted the torso piece. Plates extended from neck to lower stomach, hard, durable, and linked together in small pieces for flexibility. She held in her hands meticulously crafted body armor.

Beneath the piece she examined, thighs, greaves, and boots, nestled in display.

“This is… this is what the team wears?” Astrid sat, breathless.

“Yup, kid,” Karth declared, “You’re one of us.”

Tenya squeezed Astrid’s shoulders.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say… ‘I can’t wait to try it on’,” Tenya heartened over her ear.

Astrid shivered, and there, hunched in the hold, her crystal flickered awake. The soft glow lit her face as she set the breastplate down and suddenly stood.

She proffered her hand to Karth. “Thank you, Commander. It’s an honor.”

He smiled at her words and accepted her shake. “Glad to have you on the team, Specialist Hale.”

“Okay, I’m gonna cry,” Tenya nearly squealed.

“You can get it painted when the mission is complete, and we make it back to Earth. Oh. And I almost forgot...”

Out of a pocket, Karth procured a thick piece of plastic the size of a greeting card. A geometric design of three chevron pairs, outwardly facing in triangle formation, lay cut from the material. In the center sat a circle.

“It’s a stencil,” he explained at her puzzled expression. “A design we whipped up for what will become the Channeler Division. I think Captain hopes this symbol will one day be on the pauldron of every Energy Specialist. One in every contingent of the Service. But it has to start somewhere.”

Astrid took the cardboard between her fingers and traced the wide lines under her thumb.

“The Channeler Division,” she repeated. Finally, a proud smile spread across her face. “Yes, sir.”