John Ringo - East of the Sun, West of the Moon

“Otherwise you’d have to have made one?” Herzer asked, chuckling. The exit point was in the Seventh Legion’s camp, which was set in a valley in central Sylania, not far from the Sussan River. The camp was flanked to the east and west by high ridges but they were at least five klicks away. The camp was crowded with legionnaires training and tending to chores but the first thing they saw was a group of officers standing stiffly to attention. Clearly they were expected.

“Countess Travante,” a brigadier general in the lead of the group said, rendering a salute and then dropping it. “I’m General Eyck. A pleasure to have you in Camp Devil.” As he finished the introduction the officers accompanying him dropped to parade rest, clearly on cue.

“The pleasure is all mine, General,” Megan said, taking his hand. “You know Commander Herrick?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure, ma’am,” the general said, nodding at Herzer. “May I present my officers?”

“Of course,” Megan replied.

Each of the officers was duly introduced and Megan shook hands and nodded as Herzer stood back and cooled his heels. Finally, the formalities were over and the general gestured towards the command tent.

“I’ve prepared refreshments, Countess,” he said, beaming. “And I was wondering if a brief tour of the camp…”

“General, we just came from Washan,” Megan pointed out. “We’re quite refreshed. And we have our first briefing scheduled in less than an hour. While I’m sure I’d be fascinated by your command, I’m afraid that with our time constraints…”

“I understand, of course,” the general said, somewhat stiffly. “I wasn’t aware that you were going to be part of the briefings…”

“General,” Herzer interjected, “with all due respect, all information regarding this mission is classified and, sir, with all due respect, you don’t have need-to-know. There may be a later time that might be better.”

“Of course, Commander,” the general said.

“If we could get a guide to the training facilities?” Megan asked, placatingly.

“Lieutenant,” the general snapped, pointing to one of his aides. “Direct Countess Travante and Commander Herrick to the training facilities.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said, bowing to Megan and gesturing down one of the streets of the crowded camp.

“Herzer?” Megan said, as they followed the aide, trailed by Van Krief, Mirta and Shanea. “Military politics issue here?”

“I think the answer is: it’s complicated,” Herzer replied. “First of all, I suspect the general thought you were accompanying me, not a part of whatever is going on and, therefore, had all the time in the world. Second, he’s justifiably proud of his command. Seventh is listed as having a very high level of training; he’s pushed them hard. And with the possible exception of Duke Edmund, I doubt that any Key-holders have inspected it and given him the ego-boos he’d like. Taking a look around at some point would be politic. Third, I doubt very much that he likes having to move his camp to protect the training facility. I’m not even sure he knows what we’re training for .”

“There’s that,” Megan admitted as they came to what was effectively a camp within a camp. The facility was protected by a standard trench and wall palisade with a wooden gate. The palisade had a high, thin, wood wall so that no one from outside the camp, except on the surrounding hills, could see what was going on. The guards were Blood Lords, dressed much like the legionnaires they had passed but with their armor and shields marked with blood red eagles instead of the devil face fronting of the Seventh. Blood Lord units were rare since most of the training was devoted to inducting junior officers; the only facilities they guarded were those at their main base in Raven’s Mill, Blackbeard Base in the Bimi Isles and now this base. Not only were there Blood Lords on the gate, but they could be seen patrolling the palisade as well.

They were stopped by a sergeant who consulted a clipboard.

“Countess Travante, it’s a pleasure to see you,” the guard said, flipping to a page. “Your picture doesn’t do you justice. Lieutenant Van Krief, Miss Shanea Burgey, Miss Mirta Krupansky and Major Herrick. When were you promoted, sir?” the guard asked.

“Three days ago,” Herzer said.

“Congratulations, sir,” the sergeant said, with apparent indifference. “You’re all cleared to pass. Lieutenant, thank you for directing them here.”

“This is as far as I go,” the lieutenant said, smiling but with a touch of asperity. “Good luck on… whatever.”

“Thanks,” Herzer said as the gates of the facility were opened.

There was a dogleg made of heavy baulks of timber supported by thick pilings and backed by packed earth. It served to both turn any attacker through the gate and to prevent anyone seeing the facilities.

When they cleared the dogleg they were confronted by a camp not much different from that outside. The buildings were permanent structures instead of tents, but it was laid out much like any standard legion camp. The exception to this was at the center where a small lake was visible. There were buildings on the shore, a dock and a large building apparently built out over the lake stretching to near its center.

“Hey, Graff,” Herzer said as soon as they were in the facility proper.

“Hey, Herzer,” the sergeant replied, grinning. “Coming up in the world.”

“Edmund had to decide whether to charge me or promote me,” Herzer said with a shrug.

“Well, there’s always killing you,” Graff noted.

“He keeps trying and trying,” Herzer snorted. “Like now. I’m soliciting volunteers, by the way.”

“Not on your life,” Graff replied. “I wanna live to spend my pay. Vaston will show you to your quarters,” he added, gesturing at one of the guards on the inside of the gate. “After that, you’ll need to go by camp security and get your badges.”

“Badges?” Megan said.

“We don’t wear them on the gate,” the sergeant said, reaching into his armor and pulling out a badge on a lanyard. It was blue paper encased in plastic and had a rather bad picture of the sergeant on it along with his name and ID number, but not rank. “But you have to have them to move around the camp and to get back in if you go out. Both entrance and exit are restricted. You, ma’am, obviously have free run, although you’ll be required to show your badge in various areas. But your aides will require specific, written, permission, to leave the camp or return.”

“I see,” Megan replied musingly.

“What’s with the lake, Private?” Herzer asked as they proceeded through the camp.

“Sir, we’re pretty careful about what questions we ask,” the private replied tightly. “The short answer is: I don’t know. And I don’t want to know, sir, if you get my drift.”

“Got it,” Herzer said. “Good answer.”

They seemed to be the only people stirring in the base and Herzer realized that with the exception of themselves, the guards and whatever support personnel had been scraped together, the camp was empty. He’d never looked at the total of the slain but the scorpions must have killed over a hundred highly trained personnel in their attack.

The quarters, when they reached them, were in a two-story wooden building that showed all the signs of hasty construction. The room Megan was shown to was probably one of the best on the base and it was furnished with a small couch, a single bed, a footlocker and a small kitchen area, all in one room. It had its own bathroom, consisting of a porcelain sink, a commode and a shower.

“Sorry, honey,” Herzer said, looking around the room and shrugging.