Firstborn of the Frontier

Sitting around and cracking wise after a hot meal and a dust up with Abby. This was the life, the Ranger life Errol envisioned before signing on for Basic.

One made all the better with his girl at his side, sitting in the coral sand while hugging her knees, all dark and scowling over what she deemed ‘inappropriate’ and ‘racially charged’ banter. It wasn’t a real scowl, as there was a quiver to her lovely lips which said she was fighting to hold back her smile, and it took every scrap of self-control Errol had not to stretch his arm around her and give her sides a poke. She was ticklish as could be, and her almost violent reactions were a sight to behold, one he would never grow tired of. Howie was the same way with hugs, though it was less funny and more frightening considering how his first instinct was to go for his pistol. The man was a contradiction and a conundrum, that much was sure, able to go from ‘storm-clouds to sunny skies in two shakes of a lamb’s tail’, as Sarah Jay would say, and today was a perfect example. Went from bright and cheery after the fight to dark and murderous once they came across those scavs, and now he was cracking jokes and grinning like a fool only seconds after a solemn and serious admission of his fears regarding his future.

Say what you will about the Firstborn, but he switched emotional tracks so fast Errol was feeling the whiplash second hand.

“Whatcha’ll laughin’ ‘bout?” Tina asked, skipping back over before taking a seat next to Howie, her blue eyes bright and inquisitive as they honed in on Errol’s. There was a lighthearted cast to almost everything she did, a lively and carefree attitude that she embodied in every way, shape and form. Made her seem silly and senseless at first glance, but she was the sharpest boot in Basic, and having seen how she handled her dual 1911’s, he wasn’t looking to get on her bad side.

So rather than answer honestly in case she shared Sarah Jay’s perspective, he looked to Howie, who didn’t miss a beat as he shifted over to make room for Tina and answered, “Discussing names for our crew. What’chu think about ‘Ethical Ethnics’?”

Errol snorted with laughter and earned himself an elbow to the ribs from Sarah Jay on top of a disapproving scowl from Tina, but even her scowls were bubbly and cheery. “Don’t you encourage him,” she said, crossing her arms in a huff over the kiccaw she never seemed to let go of. “He’ll do it, you know? Use those ‘joke’ names for real if he gets a mind to. Just look at poor Cowie.”

At the sound of his name, the baby-sized bull trotted over with a bellowing moo, a deep and booming call that sounded so out of place coming from a creature so ‘small’. Course, Tina’s warning gave Errol something to chew on, as he thought they were just joking around and would really rather not work for a crew called ‘Affirmative Action’.

“That ain’t entirely my fault,” Howie complained, patting Cowie’s flank fondly while Tina scratched the bull’s head. What followed was a long and lengthy explanation about the difference between English and Qinese and why Cowie ended up with such a strange name, which Howie eventually concluded with, “… and by then, he wouldn’t respond to any other name.” He gave a soft smile at the end of it as Cowie curled up in his lap, one which looked more natural than the toothy grin he normally flashed around, and all the more so because it was. Made for a jarring contrast from the black-eyed, murderous Firstborn who was all too eager to gun down six men in cold blood, a realization which cut Errol to the quick. Was hard to get a read on Howie, what with how fast he was to change masks, whether it be the charming and charismatic young go-getter who was happy to answer questions for the boots, or the angry, trigger-happy killer threatening an American Ranger for speaking ill of his daddy.

Wasn’t that Howie was two-faced, because he didn’t hide his worse aspects. No, he was upfront and honest about it, which somehow made him all the scarier.

Evidently having heard the story many times before, Tina rolled her eyes and gave Errol and Sarah Jay a look to convey a silent apology. “Anywho,” she said, jumping right in to take control of the conversation before Howie could derail it any further. “They ain’t even got callsigns yet, so why you in such a rush to pick out a name for your crew?”

“Because if I give ‘em callsigns, then they gonna wanna use ‘em over the radio,” Howie replied. “Means I’d hafta teach them the lingo and etiquette and all that, not to mention radio in, which opens the door for your mama to jump on and ask for an update.” Pursing his lips like he’d eaten something sour, Howie grumbled, “I swear she walks around town with one of them backpack radios strapped to her back and listens for my callsign. Ain’t no privacy over the Aetherwaves, your mama know that good and well, but she don’t pay it any mind.”

“What’s so embarrassing about sayin’ ‘love you lots’ over the radio?” Even though it was the same toothy grin as Howie’s, it suited Tina’s face in a way that would never work for the Firstborn. “Ain’t like it’s some big secret, you bapple-polishing brown-noser.”

“Just you wait ‘til it’s your turn, and she askin’ if you eatin’ your greens and washin’ your smallclothes/ See how you like it.”

It was fascinating to see this side of Howie after everything that’d gone down, like a tuskwulf relaxing on its haunches outside the bar. Sure, it might look tame and docile as can be, but approach it the wrong way and it’ll take your hand off clean. Least that’s what the traveller who tamed it said, and Errol wasn’t brave enough to test it. Howie was the same way, seemingly wholesome and harmless as can be, until it came time to draw and he turned into a gun shooting, Spell slinging, murder machine. Didn’t take much for him to turn feral, and Errol wasn’t sure what to make of it. Wasn’t like Howie treated them poorly; the very opposite in fact, as he was every bit as generous and supportive as he appeared to be, but he was also merciless to anyone who dared cross him, which left Errol feeling like he had to walk on eggshells around the Firstborn’s hair-trigger of a temper.

Wasn’t fair to judge Howie for a crime he had yet to commit, but Errol didn’t know how to feel about a man who seemed more than comfortable with the idea of gunning people down without warning and calling himself a ‘Yellow Devil’.

Sarah Jay didn’t see it, or if she did, she thought nothing of it, which was strange as could be. “So while we on the subject,” she drawled, once she could get a word in edgewise around Howie and Tina’s weirdly intimate banter, “About our Callsigns… I got a few suggestions if you care to hear ‘em.”

“Oh no,” Howie said, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “Ranger tradition says you don’t get to pick your Callsign, or weigh in on the discussion. Ain’t just a name you use over the radio, it’s what you use out in the field so bandits don’t track you down after hearing your real name. Usually has to do with how you operate, and it’s too early for you both to earn yours yet.” Flashing a grin, he added, “Not unless you wanna be Trigger-happy and Try-hard.”

There he went, poking at Errol’s sore spots again. Wasn’t half as bad as the Drill Sergeants yelling while only an inch away from your ear, but somehow, the criticisms hit harder coming from Howie. Least he took it easy on Sarah Jay and didn’t call her ‘Ice Queen’ to poke fun at how she froze up, but she didn’t seem any happier than Errol was. Perhaps realizing he’d fumbled the joke, Howie sat up straight, stretched, and heaved a sigh. “Alright, now that we done chittin’ and chattin’,” he began, as if he wasn’t the one who killed the vibe, “How bout we have ourselves an AAR?”

“AAR?” Sarah Jay asked, switching seamlessly into her best boot behaviour, and Errol shook his head to see it.

“After-action Report,” Howie replied. “We don’t gotta do no paper work or nothing, but I figure it’d be good to talk it out, share how things went from our perspectives and mention things you did good or not so good.” Giving Sarah Jay a finger gun, Howie added, “You can start.”

“Alright.” Serious as can be, Sarah Jay gave a brief, no-nonsense summary of events like reading points off a list, made the controlled chaos and confusion of the battle sound cut and dry until she reached the end and added a cheeky, “Then I sat down and gave my AAR.”

“Solid,” Howie said. “What’d you do well?”

“First to spot Kacey, not including Captain Hayes. Spotted you too. During the fight, I hit my shots and bagged two dozen kills easy.” Wasn’t too much pride in the statement, but some slipped through, only to deflate at the end as she remembered who she was talking to. That was her biggest flaw, in Errol’s opinion, how she was always comparing herself to others and finding ways to come up short, instead of focusing on her strengths and being happy about her accomplishments.

“Good. And what could you have done better?” Howie’s question threw Sarah Jay for a loop, and Errol watched as she silently panicked and went over everything she did in detail to try and find some glaring mistake. It hurt to see her be so hard on herself, and he was a little annoyed at Howie for sitting silent and letting it happen, all too pleased to leave her to stew in self-doubt. “You work great when you got some distance from the action,” Howie eventually explained, though he waited far too long for Errol’s liking. “But you ain’t so great in the mix of things. The unexpected is what throws you off, so the best way to fix that is to acclimate yourself to the chaos and disorder of battle. I know Tim pulled you out to stand overwatch, and he meant well, but he soft underneath his frosty exterior, and you ain’t doing yourself no favours by avoiding the fire.” Holding up a hand to forestall her argument, Howie said, “Note I asked what you could’ve done better, not what you did wrong. Wasn’t a mistake, just a word of advice moving forward. Firefights are a whole lot messier when you in the thick of it, as I’m sure Errol will agree, so best you experience it firsthand sooner rather than later.”

Which apparently was Errol’s cue to give his own version of events, one far less concise and orderly than Sarah Jay’s. He got there eventually though, and concluded, “Fight didn’t last all that long, but feels like it took hours instead of minutes, if that.”

“Yea, it do be like that sometimes,” Howie replied. “Ninety-nine percent of our job is ‘hurry up and wait’. Then the action kicks off and fight time kicks in, slowin’ everythin’ down ‘til it’s all over and done with.” Pointing at Errol with an encouraging look, Howie added, “No shakes this time though. Saw that much, which we’ll chalk up as the first point on your scoreboard.” Honestly, Errol didn’t even notice it this time around, and he warmed to hear it. He’d been shaken a fair bit after the dust up with the goblins, not from the fire-fight itself, but the near brush with the goblin pretending to be dead. “You also probably saved Nate’s life after he took a hit, which was some damn fine work,” Howie continued, once it was clear Errol wasn’t gonna toot his own horn. “Brave thing to do, put aside any concerns for your own life to tend to someone else. Smart to call it out too, instead of hoping someone’d notice.”

Shrugging, Errol tried to play it cool and thanked the Lord for his dark complexion, as it was doing a great job of hiding the colour of his heated cheeks. “Didn’t even think about it. Just did what we were told to do in training.” A habit ingrained into him by the Drill Sergeants, who’d pace behind them during range time and kick one of the boots to signal them to drop and play dead, then berate their neighbours if they failed to notice and call it out. That’s the sort of training that worked for Errol, not long, tiresome lectures that put him half to sleep. Which wasn’t to cast blame on Howie on anything. He’d been upfront about how they’d be better off in Basic, and he had yet to change his tune. It was just the way things were, is all, and Errol wished they were otherwise.

“Which brings us to what you could do better.” Meeting Errol’s gaze with an open and honest expression, Howie said, “Far as I seen, all your mistakes were things I already done pointed out before. Saw you fumblin’ your reload again, but ain’t seen you run any dry fire or mag drills since Meadowbrook. Told you to practice using your chain with your left hand, but you still using your right, and shootin’ righty too. Jay there just asked for the Longstrider Spell Formula so she can get a head start on practice, but you ain’t come to me once to ask for help with the Bolt Cantrip, or even ask about Hearing Protection.” Leaning back on both hands, Howie shrugged and said, “I ain’t got the time or inclination to stand over your shoulder all day and make you to train. You gotta find the drive to do that yourself. I got things to learn and improve on too, so best I can do is point the way and leave you to see it through on your own. If you can’t, well… you got potential Errol, got it in spades, but the man you could be ten years from now ain’t gonna help you today.”

Howie was only speaking facts, but Errol still bristled to hear them. Mostly because the Firstborn was right, as Errol hadn’t done any real training to speak of unless pressed to. Rather than lash out though, he nodded, took a deep breath, and tried to crack a joke. “If only we could all be as perfect and talented as you, right?”

Said it lightly with a smile, and Howie raised an eyebrow in exaggerated surprise. “Perfect? Talented? You barkin’ up the wrong tree my man. Look at you. I mean really. Look at yourself. You a six-foot tall hunk of handsome man chocolate.”

“Yea he is,” Sarah Jay said, and her tone made set Errol’s ears aflame.

“Hold your horses, Jay. There’s a lady present,” Giving Tina a quick glance, Howie added, “Or a close approximation at least.” Grinning like fool, Howie weathered Sarah Jay’s glare, ignored Tina’s pout, and said, “If anyone here was born perfect, it’s you Errol, what with your fetchin’ features, strappin’ build, and towering height. As for talent, you forget you an Intuitive caster? Magic comes so easily to you, you don’t even need lessons to learn it. All you need is exposure and you good to go. Me, my talent is math. I understand numbers. Ain’t as grand as it sounds, as I still had to spend years learning all the foundational theory.” Shaking his head some more, Howie continued, “For the sake of comparison, the greatest Intuitive caster known to man was the Mamluk Immortal Monarch, who was captured by mongols as a child and sold into slavery back in the 1200’s. Lucky for him, he was bought by the Royal Family, and spent the next thirty years secretly learning every Spell they could sling. Once he was ready, he overthrew them in a single bloody night and crowned himself King, a title he held for some five hundred years before stepping down to live in obscurity. Died in 1943 fighting against other Immortal Monarchs, and by all accounts was a pretty decent guy. There’s also some ascetic shapeshifter in Finland who’s an Intuitive, and most the old world thinks he’s got a good chance of being the next Immortal Monarch, assumin’ he ain’t already one in hidin’. Both Popes are Intuitive casters, Catholic and Latin Catholic alike, as well as a few other notable individuals right here on the Frontier. Know who the greatest mathematician there ever was?”

Rather than keep silent and let things drag out, Errol stifled a sigh and threw out a guess. “Newton?”

“Nope,” Howie proclaimed, pleased as could be. “Not that he wasn’t a great mathematician, but he wasn’t the greatest. That title arguably belongs to Leonard Euler, who you probably ain’t never heard of. Reason bein’ is he pioneered too many mathematical concepts, so many we couldn’t name anything after him, else everything’d be Euler’s law, principle, theorem, or whatnot. Thing is, man also never cast a single Spell in his life despite being born in the renaissance of magical discovery. No one knows why he didn’t learn to sling Spells. Some claim it’s because he was a mathematical purist and cared only for numbers, while others suspect he might’ve had aphantasia and been incapable of picturing Spell Structures in his mind. Whatever the reason, that ought to show you the value of our respective talents, and I’d pick yours over mine any day of the week. Anyone can learn to math if they put their mind to it, but some Spells are just out of reach.”

“Got it,” Errol said, trying not to sound too tired or resigned. “I’ll work harder at working hard.”

“Glad to hear it.” Pausing a beat, Howie seemed reluctant to say something for once, but he still went ahead and opened his mouth. “I ain’t trying to pile on you Errol. Nor am I saying you lazy or anything of the sort. Thing is, while you good enough to get by for now, things move fast on the Frontier, and you’ll soon find yourself falling fast behind if you don’t work hard to keep up. Abby’ll only get stronger as the years go by, and if you don’t got the Spellslinging chops to compete, then you won’t make it out here, as a part of my crew or the Rangers. You’d be better off serving in the Army or National Guard, who rely more on tech and numbers than Spell slinging to get things done, though you’ll have to wait until after the Watershed when we got the numbers to field a standing army and reserve forces.”

Which was a roundabout way to say that Errol needed to shape up if he wanted a place on the Firstborn’s crew. Thing was, he wasn’t sure if he did, so he kept quiet and simply nodded until Howie seemed ready to move on.

“Alright then, Songbird,” he said, turning to Tina with a serious expression he had to work hard to maintain. “Your turn.” Her version of events weren’t much different from Sarah Jay’s, though Tina went more in depth about her Spell Slinging and gunfighting, but Howie didn’t give her one word of praise before asking, “And what could you have done better?”

Puffing up her cheeks in consternation, Tina showed a side of herself that none of the other boots had ever seen. “You said I done good,” she exclaimed, pouting for all she was worth under the brim of her wide hat.

“And I ain’t saying nothin’ different,” Howie replied, his tone softening just a touch, “But you remember what my daddy used to say?”

A lot of things apparently, but Tina picked up on it without missing a beat. “There’s always room for improvement.” Heaving a sigh, she cuddled her kiccaw and sank deep into thought, while Howie stroked the snoring baby Cowie who’d fallen asleep in his lap. “Gimme a hint?” she asked, after a few seconds of silence.

“Spell selection.”

“What’s wrong with Mirror Image?” Gone was the bubbly, happy-go-lucky Tina and in her place was a pouty little girl. She had all sorts of emotions and could go from one to another in the blink of an eye, which explained where Howie learned it from. All fired up and indignant, Tina turned on Howie in a huff and said, “It’s a staple in Mama and Daddy’s Spellbook for good reason, and your daddy even used it often enough.”

“Sure, when they went delving deep under dark with a strike team of five,” Howie replied. “Makes three or four illusory bodies pretty valuable, as it almost doubles the total number of targets for Abby to attack.” Giving Tina’s nose a gentle tap, Howie asked, “But you gotta ask yourself, was it the best Spell to use in this particular situation? Out on the open desert with some sixty guns behind you? Four more bodies don’t mean as much, especially since any Bolts’ll fly right through your illusions and hit anyone standing behind them. Why not Bless to help your fellow boots out? Or Mantle of Inspiration, to steady their nerves and protect them a bit? Both First Order Spells mind you, and would’ve been more effective than your Second Order Mirror Image. If you set on throwing out something big though, then why not Madness? I know you got it, and today would’ve been the perfect time to use it. Whisper a little crazy into Abby’s ear and get them fighting amongst themselves.”

Howie continued talking at Tina, but Errol tuned it out as he tried not to stare too hard at the Innate. Or look too scared either, as Madness was a Spell that everyone knew and no one liked, an Enchantment which robbed you of all rationality and turned you against your friends. Forget the War of the Immortals, or any major conflict from the old world really, as there were plenty of stories of Enchanters using Madness to turn townsfolk on one another right here on the Frontier. Charm and Discord were only slightly better, as there were limits to what they could drive a target to do, but Madness could make a man murder his wife or a mother her own children if the caster were of a mind to. If that wasn’t monstrous enough, Errol heard tales that said even though the target would know they’d been ensorcelled after the fact, it did nothing to blunt the guilt of not only killing someone you loved with your own two hands, but also knowing that in the heat of the moment, you truly wanted them dead.

And though Tina would never do something like that, it made a man mighty uncomfortable knowing she could with nothing more than a Second Order Spell.

Now, this didn’t mean Errol agreed with Kacey’s outburst when Tina tried to cast a Spell on her, but he understood her concerns a little better now. That being said, he realized his attempts to hide his alarm failed miserably when Sarah Jay elbowed him in the ribs and gave him a good, long, wide-eyed stare, a deep and penetrating look that told him in no uncertain terms he was acting the fool. Howie noticed too, and spent a good second looking back and forth between Errol and Tina before asking, “What’s this about then?”

“Nothin’,” Tina said, glaring at Errol something fierce until he felt compelled to do the same.

“Yea, nothing.” Then, because he was an idiot, he added, “And for what it’s worth, I don’t agree with what Kacey said.”

Which of course was a stupid thing to say. Not because it was wrong, but because Howie was sitting right there. “Oh?” he asked, and Errol felt any and all affection the Firstborn might’ve had for the Nipponese girl go right out the window with that monosyllabic expression. “And what did Kacey say?”

“Nothin’,” Tina replied, her big, blue eyes still fixed on Errol’s face as she tilted her head, daring him to say something and warning him of the consequences if he should.

“Nothin’ huh?” Now it was Howie’s turn to glare, and Errol couldn’t help but look away. From Howie, Tina, and even Sarah Jay, as he couldn’t bear to meet their eyes. “If it’s nothin’,” Howie continued, working hard to sound cordial and relaxed, “Then why won’t no one say what it was?”

“Because you one to make mountains out of molehills,” Tina snapped, mercifully freeing Errol from her piercing gaze as she turned on the Firstborn. “Keep out of it Howie. I’ll handle my own business, thank you very much.”

A long, heavy pause followed her statement, one in which Errol suspected Kacey’s fate was weighed against the blackness of Howie’s heart, after which he sighed and said, “I hear you.” Which wasn’t saying much, but thankfully, he dropped the subject. At least for now. “Anywho,” he said, trying to inject some cheer into his voice while trying real hard not to look around for Kacey. “All of you can stand to learn from this. Spell choice can make or break an encounter. Don’t get stuck in your ways. Me, I’m guilty of it just as much, as I could’ve thrown out another Spike Growth or something.” Rather than go into detail of his encounter however, Howie just nodded and said, “Alright then. Good talk. We all got somethin’ to chew on, so if we get to it, then we’ll all be Ranger ready soon enough.”

And true to his workaholic nature, Howie settled in to flip through his Spellbook while his Mage Hands got to work reloading and unloading the Whumper behind his back. Yea, the Firstborn always had his nose to the grindstone, there was no denying that, which made Errol feel all the more ashamed for slacking off like he did. It wasn’t even slacking, as they spent long days in the saddle these past three weeks, with a lot to learn and go over each and every day. Wasn’t like he was goofing off all the time, or even most of the time, but a man needed to stop and breathe every once in awhile. At least, most men did. Not the Firstborn, no siree, he was all work all the time. Could ride all day, gun a man down before suppertime, and be in bed fast asleep by lights out after a good, long work-out.

Complaining wouldn’t change a thing though, so Errol headed over to the wagon to do some dry fire drills. Raise. Aim. Click. Lower. Reload. Repeat. Mindless is what it was, but Howie said he ought to focus on each and every repetition, aiming at the same or different targets and trying to find ways to get better with each pass. Felt odd doing drills without real purpose, or at least none besides the vague goal of ‘improving’. How many sets should he do? How was he supposed to know if he was getting better, or when he was done? Judging by Howie’s standards, the answers were until it was time to sleep and never, as there was always room for improvement right? There wasn’t anything wrong with that sort of mindset, but Errol needed something more than just ‘get good’ as a goal. It was a world of difference from his time back home where Father Nicolas or one of the other priests or nuns would give him a task. Sweep the steps, do the laundry, chop some firewood, or teach the kids their letters, there was always something to do around the church, so Errol spent most his days moving from one chore or lesson to another.

Basic wasn’t much different. You had roll call in the morning, and standards to measure everything by, whether it be how to make your bed, pack your kit, or even tie your boots. And for good reason, as Errol learned firsthand after briefly losing a boot during the harpy fight, which made him miss Basic all the more. None of it had been easy, whether it be leaving home, the gruelling training, or remembering all the rules and regulations, and Richard had only made things worse, but signing on was the first thing Errol had ever done for himself, and it felt… right. Not necessarily good, or even pleasant, save for how it felt like he was going somewhere in life, had a goal to strive for and a purpose to fulfil.

All this and more went through Errol’s mind as he went through his dry fire drills. It was boring, repetitive work, and try as he might to stay focused and look for ways to improve, he found his mind wandering as he considered the path before him. Signing on with Howie was more of a consolation prize than anything else. Wasn’t really much other choice to be had, except now Richard was gone and the Rangers were willing to take him back. Thing is, while Errol had his concerns about Howie, it didn’t feel right abandoning him at the drop of a hat, not after how well he treated them. Man insisted on sharing profits without batting an eye, even on something as big as a Mage Armour Spell Core, but at the same time, he was all but pushing them back to the Rangers anyway. Truth was Errol and Sarah Jay were better off in Basic, even if she might say different, so shouldn’t they at least discuss it?

So after a solid half-hour of dry-fire drills, Errol set out to do just that. A feat made easier thanks to Sarah Jay’s perch on the driver’s seat, well away from where Howie and Tina were quietly feuding. As for Errol’s girl, she was looking over her new Spell, all serious and studious as can be. Longstrider, for getting where you’re going right quick, as Howie would say.

It occurred to Errol that he ought to talk to the other boots more, or at least the Rangers, else he’d soon start slurring all his words together and spouting folksy sayings that made no sense.

“Hey,” he said, stopping himself short of asking, ‘how’s tricks?’.

“Hey yourself, you hunk of handsome man chocolate you.” It wasn’t just her words heating up his ears this time, as she threw him a sultry look.

Chuckling as he climbed in beside her, he shook his head and asked, “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“When he’s right, he’s right,” Sarah Jay replied, leaning in to touch her head against his. No kiss though, not with so many eyes about, and she leaned away as soon as she was done. Giving him a look with a glint in her eye, she continued, “Though I am starting to wonder if I gotta keep a closer eye on the two of you, especially now that Kacey’s out of the running for Howie’s affections.” Sniffing primly without meaning to, she added, “Knew they weren’t good for each other from the get go, but didn’t say as much because it ain’t polite.”

Errol never saw a spark to begin with, but he knew better than to say anything this time. Instead, he waited until she ran out of steam before guiding the conversation back on track, or at least back to where he wanted it. “So I was thinking.”

“Were you now?”

“Yea. Big surprise, I know.” Smiling in spite of the serious conversation he was hoping to have, he took a moment to bask in the moment, one spent next to his girl, the love of his life. And a pair of kiccaws, who suddenly decided their perch on the roof was no good and they’d rather rest on the driver carriage railing. Close to Sarah Jay, so they could nose at the Ablative Armour Spell Core she kept in her breast pocket despite Errol’s concerns about Aetheric emanations causing mutations or cancer. Waving the birds off before they poked a hole in her shirt, Errol took a deep breath and tried to think of the best way to say it. “I think we should talk about getting back into Basic.”

“…Okay. Let’s talk then.” Despite the agreeable statement, her tone was anything but, steady, even, and frosty as could be. “What’s Basic got to offer us that Howie can’t?”

“Structure for one,” Errol said, only to regret opening with it as it made the decision seem selfish. Sarah Jay was doing just fine without Howie hounding her every step of the way, so that was hardly a plus in her book. “And a safety net for two, like Howie said, as we’d be all on our own if he gets injured.” Which seemed all but inevitable given how he liked to live life on the edge, but that didn’t need to be said. Even if the Rangers let the boots come under fire, at least they were prepared to save them too. “For three, legitimacy. You heard how down and out he was about fully-automatic weapons and popular Spell Cores. He doesn’t even know if he can make it work anymore, so maybe we ought to take his advice about going back to the Rangers.”

“All good points,” Sarah Jay said, nodding in agreement. Which threw Errol for a loop until she continued, “Not good enough though. Said he was going through next round of Basic, didn’t he? And that we could go through it with him, so there’s your first point out the window. Doubly so since I’d say we’ve both learned more from him in three weeks than the first two months of Basic. A lot more, most of which we’ll likely forget, but even the little bit that sticks can put us at the head of the pack, Tina notwithstanding.”

Which was all true, and left out the most important bit, that they were getting paid well to learn alongside Howie too, wages Sarah Jay needed to get her family away from her abusive, alcoholic step-dad. Moving right on, Sarah Jay said, “As for your second point, we’ll circle back to that later and move onto the third for now. Yea, Howie got his doubts, but they about us mind you, not himself. He got plenty of options all on his own. He’s only concerned because we ain’t measuring up to expectations, and he don’t think he can carry all that extra weight. He ain’t worried about his future Errol; he’s worried about ours, the three of us together as a part of his crew.”

She made a fair point, and it cast Howie’s earlier doubts in a whole new light. ‘Been working so hard to stay ahead,’ was what he said, followed by, ‘And thought I could do it with a crew’. Meaning he still thought he could cut it on his own, which was just a whole new level of cocky that rubbed Errol the wrong way.

“Now as for that Ranger safety net,” Sarah Jay continued, once it was clear her earlier statement had sunk in, “I think you and Howie both overestimate the safety they provide. The badge do work wonders, and the Rangers as a whole will have our backs, but we gotta get there first. Even if they pin a star on our chest, it’ll take more than six months of Basic to make us Rangers.”

“What do you mean?” Errol asked. “I thought the whole point of Basic was to train us up as Rangers.”

Sarah Jay smiled and pursed her lips ever so slightly, which meant she found something he said funny in a way it wasn’t meant to be. Usually when he said something stupid. “They’re the tip of the spear in the war against Abby,” she said, with a small shake of her head. “Means they’re used to drawing their recruits from a pool of highly trained veterans and special operators. Captain Jung? Former U.F. Marine. Captain Marcus? Ran a team on Delta Force.” Seeing that Errol still didn’t get it, Sarah Jay said, “Lemme put it this way. Captain Hayes was the least qualified Ranger sent to the Frontier. One year in the army, but he was given a brevet promotion to Army Sniper after three months in the field. Shows how good he really was, but even then, he never would’ve made the old-world standards for Ranger recruitment if it wasn’t for the Frontier. Hear they had to lower requirements all across the board to find enough volunteers, and the U.F.A still had to resort to sendin’ criminals and sellin’ open spots to the highest bidder.”

Captain Hayes? Least qualified? Forget what Howie said about the man being soft. Tim Hayes made ice seem warm and inviting, as he had a way of looking at you like he was gauging the distance and reading the wind for a clean headshot. If he wasn’t Ranger qualified, then who was?

As if reading his thoughts, Sarah Jay gave him a look and said, “Even Howie ain’t up to Ranger standard, and he’ll be the first to admit it. Already did, ‘cept you weren’t listening. That’s why he’s goin’ through Basic, so he can prove to the Marshal that he’s worth trainin’ up.” Waving her hand to change the subject, she continued, “So yea, even if we finish Basic and get hired on, there’s no guarantee we’ll prove ourselves as ‘real’ Rangers, not anytime soon. We’d still be boots, but treated like army grunts instead of raw recruits, and I ain’t all that eager to spend five or more years provin’ myself as a Ranger.”

Spreading her arms to let a kiccaw hop into her lap, Sarah Jay cooed and stroked the round bird’s head while giving him time to think, but eventually she grew tired of waiting. “All I know is,” she began, meeting his eyes with an almost apologetic wince, “Howie done right by us. Better than right in fact, with more concern for our hides than his own. Yea, he went off on you after that dust up with Caleb, but only because we both almost got ourselves killed, and almost brought him and Cowie down with us. Way I see it, ain’t no benefit to be had going back to Basic here and now. Might as well learn and earn what we can with Howie, and join him in Basic when he goes too. Worst comes to worst, we’re half a year behind starting our career in the Rangers, no harm, no foul.” Studying his face for a long second, Sarah Jay asked, “Unless you’ve some other reason to part ways?”

It took a long minute before Errol was ready to speak, and before he did, he looked Sarah Jay in the eyes. He had to, because for better or worse, he needed to see her reaction, even if it was one of pity, disgust, or contempt. “He doesn’t scare you?” Errol asked. She didn’t laugh or recoil right away, which was good, so he continued, “Howie’s always so ready, so eager even to kill, like he’s holding himself back out of… good manners or something.” Blowing out a long breath, he rubbed his chin and heaved a sigh. “I-I don’t understand it. How can he shoot five men and not lose a wink of sleep? Or look at six more and become furious because he can’t gun them down? Then there’s all the stuff Wayne said about him, and… I don’t know.” Shaking his head, he bit his lip and looked his girl in the eyes, hoping against all hope to see the same fear he knew was shining out of his.

He didn’t. Instead, he found cold sorrow, warm compassion, and tender love in her beautiful brown eyes, all good and well, but not what he was looking for. Sensing as much, she reached out to take his hand and gave it a good squeeze until he squeezed back, holding her tight for all he was worth because he was so afraid to lose her to his cowardice. It must’ve only been seconds before she spoke again, but in his heart, he felt like hours had passed. “Caleb was the first man you ever seen die,” she said, and she got a faraway look in her eyes as she continued, “Let me tell you about mine. It was early spring, only a few weeks after I turned seven. Daddy was out hunting or foraging or something, so the four of us were together at home, me, Mama, Mary Anne and little Jimmy who wasn’t even a full year old yet. Wasn’t much more than a shack, if that, one built right up against a rock face next to the Wayfarer, but it was ours. Mama was cooking supper over a fire, while I was playing with Mary Anne and little Jimmy takin’ a nap. These were the rough years, before we made it to New Hope, where we spent winters alone, because food was scarce, and you couldn’t trust no one. Come spring, the survivors would all get together again, or go on their own way depending on their mood, but with little Jimmy being just a babe and Mary Anne a few months shy of four, my parents wanted to press their luck and sit tight as long as they could instead of travelling round with all three of us in tow.”

Errol held her hand tight, because he felt she needed it more than anything else. She paused for a bit, but he didn’t rush her, letting her bask in the memories of her past, even if they clearly weren’t some of the best. “Man showed up one afternoon,” she said, continuing out of nowhere, “Just let himself in without so much as a how you do. A ragged traveller, shaggy, filthy, and bone-thin. Must’ve smelt our supper or seen the smoke from the campfire, or maybe he’d seen Daddy walking away and traced the path back. Don’t matter how he found us, but he did. A stranger, someone we’d never met before, and he walked right through our front door with a bone ax in hand. Sat down at the table like he owned the place and said one word. ‘Food’.” Shrugging, Sarah Jay continued, still lost in the memory of that day. “That’s all he said, didn’t wave his weapon around or mean mug me or Mary Anne, but didn’t put down his ax neither. Kept it right on the table and rested his hand over top it while he ate what mama served him. Warm stew, but no bread, as none of us knew about breadroot just yet. Scarfed down the first bowl, then the second, and took his time drinking the third while eyeing Mama, me, and little Mary Anne in turn, like he was decidin’ what to do with us.”

Taking a deep breath, Sarah Jay let it out and finished the rest of her story in one go. “Then Daddy came home. Kicked open the door and put a Bolt clean through the stranger’s neck before he could turn. Died right there at the dinner table with both eyes open, and we left soon after, taking only what we could carry for fear the man had friends lingerin’ about.”

Finished with her story, Sarah Jay sat there and looked Errol in the eyes, and he felt like she could hear all the questions swimming around in his head, questions he dared not ask. Like, did the man threaten you? Throw things around? Did he even raise his voice? Sure, he had an ax, but the way Sarah Jay told it, he was just holding it, which was concerning, but not exactly a crime deserving of death.

And that’s when it hit him, the message she was trying to convey. “You think I don’t have what it takes to make it out here?” The question just slipped out, and it broke him to see her silent agreement while she struggled to come up with a nicer way to frame it.

“I think you’ve lived a safe life,” was what she came up with. “Or at least safe in comparison to others around these parts, which is why you see the best in everyone. I love that about you, but you gotta realize, not everyone grew up like that. Sure the area round the Highway looks civilized and settled these days. Wasn’t always like that though. Was a time when most right-minded folks ran west the second they saw the badlands, while those seekin’ to evade justice came out east in droves. Made life hard for all of us, and the Rangers had a rough time maintainin’ order round these parts. That’s the world Howie saw while travelling from town to town with his daddy, one in which he saw the worst humanity has to offer, and so he suspects the worst in everyone he meets.”

Shaking his head, Errol said, “That doesn’t give him the right to kill anyone and everyone who crosses him.”

“Legally? No, but if it walks like duck and quacks like a duck…” Sarah Jay shrugged. “The stranger who came into our home didn’t make no threats, but he didn’t make no effort to reassure us either. With me, Mama, and Mary Anne within reach, and little Jimmy sleepin’ nearby, Daddy wasn’t gonna take no risks givin’ no warnings, and I think he was right not to, no matter what the Accords might say.” Eyes hardening as if daring him to say otherwise, Sarah Jay pushed on. “Them scavs who robbed us today? They was ready and willin’ to watch us walk into an Abby ambush and profit off our deaths. That’s a crime right there, one of intent, even though it’d be all but impossible to prove in a court of law. I ain’t callin’ for their heads, but I won’t shed no tears if we pay ‘em back in kind.” Still holding his hand tight, Sarah Jay brought his fingers to her cheek and said, “You scared of Howie because you don’t understand him. You see a dangerous killer, but the flip side of that coin is a stalwart protector. Captain Clay, Captain Jung, and all them Rangers are the same, and they got more blood on their hands than Howie, but you ain’t afraid of them. Why’s that?”

“Because they’re good people trying to do right by everyone,” Errol said, fighting the urge to look around to make sure Howie wasn’t listening in. “While Howie… he works really hard at being good.”

“So?”

“Good people don’t have to try to be good,” Errol said, growing frustrated from Sarah Jay’s lack of understanding. “They just are.”

“Oh Errol.” There it was, that pursed lip smile that thought he’d said something funny or stupid again. “Being good is the hardest thing a person can do, especially in trying times. Think about it. From what you’ve told me, Father Nicolas is a good man, but how many others you know like him?”

Errol opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it shut because the truth only proved her right. “Captain Clay is a good man,” Errol said, “And so’s the Marshal. Captain Jung seems decent too.”

Sarah Jay made a face, one that said she was holding back, so Errol stared in silent demand until she cracked. “Those less inclined towards the Rangers call Captain Jung the Iron Maiden,” Sarah Jay said, “On account of how she leaves bandits riddled with holes.” Made sense considering how she could sling four Bolts with a single Cast, but Sarah Jay wasn’t done. “As for Captain Clay, they call him the Judge. Most think it’s ‘cause his sidearm got the same name, but truth is it’s short for Judge, Jury, and Executioner, on account of how he used to string bandits up without due process or last rites. That’s why he moved all the way out to Meadowbrook actually, because he had a fallin’ out with the Marshal over it.”

Outwardly, Errol sat there and stared as if numb to all her words, while screaming inside. Skipping a trial was bad enough, but how could Captain Clay deny anyone their last rites, even a criminal? It was one thing to shoot a man dead in battle, but to take them prisoner and deny even their souls a chance for redemption? That was more monstrous than anything Errol could ever imagine, yet Sarah Jay acted like it was nothing big. “That’s Frontier Justice,” she said with a shrug. “Was all we had back before there were judges and court-appointed attorneys, or even prisons and transports to move ‘em around. Howie, the Rangers, and everyone else round these parts, they did what they had to do, same as what my daddy did, and same as what we might have to do, whether we stick with Howie or sign on with the Rangers. That’s the world we live in Errol, and it is what it is.”

It is what it is. A casual utterance of complete indifference, and a chilling outlook on life and morals in general. Errol’s heart ached for her tattered and jaded soul, but he didn’t know what to say, so he held her hand tight and prayed for guidance and forgiveness, because it was the only thing he knew.

Maybe he should’ve stayed home after all, found work at the ranch and helped out at the orphanage. Start fishing in the river maybe, or working with his hands making something that’d last. A boring life to be sure, and a hard one too, but at least Errol wouldn’t have to fear for his eternal soul, not like he did here on the wild Frontier.