? Daniel’s eyes opened as his augs chirped gently, stirring him from his dreams. He didn’t move at once, but the augs’ alarm went silent, sensing that he was at least conscious. Why he’d ever chosen that annoying noise as his wake-up call, he had no idea. But it did the job.

  ? “Morning.” On the bunk across the room, Patrick lifted a hand. He was sitting up on his bunk, a pad balanced on one raised knee, while his plate of eggs and bacon was cradled on the other. His shaggy blonde hair was damp and nearly obscured his eyes. Why did he never dry his hair properly?

  ? “Yo,” Daniel answered, swinging his feet over the edge of his bed. He winced slightly as they came in contact with the cold stone floor beneath them. “I thought we requested a rug over a month ago? Why do I have to keep freezing my feet off every morning?”

  ? “Budget cuts,” Patrick offered with a shrug, his eyes still glued to the tablet. He tore off half of the bacon strip he was holding and swiped at his tablet. “Chief says we’ve gotta buy that ourselves. Ain’t got the credits to spare.”

  ? “Sure,” Daniel snorted. “Not like he just redid the fourth-year’s dining room or anything. Have you seen that place? Looks like an Anchorage dorm kitchen.”

  ? “Well, they are from Anchorage, and so is the Chief. How do you know what one of those looks like, anyway? You’ve lived in Fairbanks your whole life.”

  ? Daniel tried to reply, but was cut off by a huge yawn. Deciding he didn’t want to banter with his roommate before he had some coffee in his system, he pushed himself up off the bed. “Whatever. Enjoy the bacon grease on your screen.”

  “That’s what wipes are for.”

  ? The walk down to the first-year dining hall was a short one, past four other closed doors housing the other Rescue Squad trainees in his year. No doubt sleeping in on their days off, he thought, suppressing yet another yawn as it threatened to escape him. If only he had that luxury.

  ? “Mornin', Sergeant,” he groaned, spotting the burly man standing beside the coffee maker. “Fresh pot?”

  ? “Just finished it,” the man growled back. Okay, he didn’t actually growl. But his voice was so low and gravely that it sounded the same. An older cadet had made the comment that he sounded like a bear once. Daniel hadn’t seen a single morning pass where they weren’t scrubbing the toilets. “You’ll need your energy today.”

  ? Daniel stopped in his tracks, surprise shocking away the rest of his sleep. His shoulders slumped. “What? Today’s my rest day!”

  ? The sergeant’s shoulders lifted in a shrug, still facing away from him. “Can’t be helped, Koyuk. You’re up on the on-call roster.”

  ? He knew arguing with Sergeant Ambrose was a futile effort, so he simply sighed–quietly enough that the man couldn’t hear it–and accepted his fate. “What idiot got lost out on the tundra today?”

  ? The sergeant turned to face him then, his mushy moustache twitching as the lips under it smiled. “University field trip from Anchorage. The driver radioed in half an hour ago. Said their tires were flat.”

  ? That made Daniel look around again, sure he’d misheard the man. “Tires? Flat? You mean they didn’t take a hoverbus?”

  ? “Nope. Lower-income school, apparently. Couldn’t afford it.”

  ? That time, Daniel did let out a groan. Stupid Anchorage kids. Who took a field trip this close to winter, to the tundra of all places? And on his free day, too. He’d hoped to swing by the market and pick up some of those fresh vegetables. They were flown in from Cascadia every Wednesday, and to say they were the best available would be the understatement of the century.

  ? “Problem, cadet?” Sergeant Ambrose’s voice took on an even more bear-like quality, and he jumped to attention.

  ? “N-No, sir!” He said, slamming a fist to his chest in salute. “I’ll scarf down a quick breakfast and be ready in fifteen!”

  ? “You’ll be ready now,” the sergeant said, extending a vacuum-sealed travel mug. “Hop to it, cadet.”

  ? “Aye, sergeant.” He made sure he was quite a ways down the hallway before groaning again. Only Patrick heard him.

  ? “Problem?”

  ? “My free day’s been taken up by Anchorage idiots,” Daniel snarled. He ripped open the metal cabinet beside his bed and yanked out his kit. “Can you make my bed for me? Ambrose is pulling a ‘right now’.”

  ? “Sure,” Patrick said, chuckling, then set aside his plate. “Boy, am I glad I got transferred to the night crew. Firewatch beats rescue ops any day.”

  ? Daniel ignored him, as well as the ‘don’t let any planties eat you!’. He pulled his boots on as he went down the hall, hopping on a foot to awkwardly slip the gear on, then flung his vest around his chest. He felt the motorized straps pulling snug, creating the pocket of clean air that would connect to his mask. At least he wouldn’t need that. Not with a simple pickup job.

  ? Sergeant Ambrose was waiting for him by the door to the machine bay, greeting him with his usual “We’re burning daylight!” Not that there would be much of it today. Even at oh-nine-hundred, the sun was late to rise, and would probably only show its face for two or three hours.

  ? He hopped into the front passenger seat of the armored operations truck, immediately performing the routine check of all the buttons, levers, and diagnostic screens that popped up on his side of the dash. “Diagnostics clear, Sergeant. Slight damage to the rear-left magnet, but not mission-stopping.”

  ? “Cables stocked?”

  ? Daniel cursed silently, realizing he’d forgotten them. He tapped at the dash, bringing up the ‘Equipment and Rations’ section. “Fully stocked, sir. Two weeks’ provisions. Dome is fully charged.”

  ? “Good,” Ambrose growled, leaning over to press his thumb against the driver’s console. The rest of the vehicle hummed with life, the overhead lights flickering on before dimming to a comfortable level. Words flashed across his field of vision thanks to the augs, giving the same announcement it gave at the start of every operation.

  ?[Greetings, Sergeant Ambrose, Cadet Koyuk. Rescue vehicle is fully operational. All safety checks cleared. Runway is clear. Godspeed, and thank you for your service to the City of Fairbanks and the Denali Frontier.]

  ? No, thank you, Daniel muttered under his breath. Thank you for ruining my snack day.

  ? With the slightest tilt of the steering wheel, the hulking rescue rig began to move toward the opening bay doors. Lights flashed ahead on the landing strip, alternating between red and white, showing that a rescue operation was setting out. As the sergeant began to increase their speed and the short wings extended from the side of the vehicle, another message appeared on their augs.

  ?

  [Cadet Koyuk, you are in violation of the safety guidelines of the Interior Rescue Agency’s Employee Code of Conduct. Please ensure that your safety harness is firmly secured. Continued infraction will be logged into your personnel file.]

  ?

  ? “Right, right,” he muttered, pulling the seatbelt across his shoulders and clicking it into place between his thighs. The mount at the bottom retracted into the seat, pulling the entire thing tight. It might have kept him safe, but it was damn uncomfortable.

  ? “Problem, Cadet?” Sergeant Ambrose asked, barely sparing him a glance from the driver’s seat. Daniel noticed he wasn’t getting spammed with Code of Conduct infractions, despite his harness being retracted and only gripping the steering wheel with one hand.

  ? “No, sir,” he said, hoping the smile he gave seemed genuine. “Happy to be here. Let’s go rescue those tourists.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  —

  ? Maeve huddled closer to the engine compartment of the tour bus, shivering as the icy wind of the tundra blew over her again, her teeth chattering. The thin foam blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders was completely incapable of actually keeping her warm. The others beside her were faring no better. Jeremiah was even hugging the front of the bus. He looked stupid. Warmer, but stupid. She contemplated copying him, but that would mean letting go of the blanket.

  ? “Bad news, kids,” the driver said, coming around the bus with a grim set to his mouth. “Bus is missing its spares.”

  ? “What?” They all groaned, their voices jostled by their shivering bodies. Their driver shook his head, raising his hands.

  ? “Don’t give me that tone, it ain’t my fault. Bus is overdue for its maintenance check. ‘Course, only got the one shop that does maintenance checks on vehicles this old. Don’t worry, though, I radioed the nearest tower and gave our distress code. I.R.A. should be here soon.”

  ? Maeve tilted her head, not sure what the driver meant. “I.R.A.? What’s that?”

  ? “Didn’t you read the safety packet?” Emily asked, bumping her with a shoulder. “The Interior Rescue Agency! They’re going to come pick us up! How long will it take them to get here?”

  ? “ETA forty minutes,” the man said crisply, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his puffy jacket. “So stick close, and don’t make too much noise.”

  ? “Why?” Maeve asked. Emily groaned beside her.

  ? “Read. The. Safety. Packet! Those damn aliens practically own the tundra! Have you never opened a book in your life?”

  ? “Why would I?” Maeve snarked back. “You’ve read every book in existence, so I can just ask you!”

  ? “Quiet!” The driver barked. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh, shaking his head again. “You kids have to keep your voices down. This ain’t a fortified bus, you know.”

  ? They all fell silent at that, quite a few of them peering around as if they’d see an alien. Maeve knew what they looked like from the few museum visits they’d had, but her memory was a little foggy just then. She imagined huge, crushing jaws, filled with gnashing, razor-sharp, foot-long teeth. Maybe a bear’s bulky body. Or a moose’s hulking frame. They had those up here still, didn’t they? She didn’t care enough to ask. Jeremiah was arguing with someone else about how safe it was to be lying on the engine component. At least they were doing it quietly.

  ? Time seemed to inch past as they waited, surrounded by the howling arctic wind, heads swiveling in every direction on the lookout for marauding aliens. Despite Emily’s claim, Maeve had read a lot of books. She just preferred the adventure novels over dry textbooks. And every adventure book warned of the dangers of the Antithesis monsters. Every comic depicted the horrendous damage they did to cities–and the people inside them.

  ? She shook herself vigorously, leaning more firmly against the warm hood of the bus. She was being stupid. She’d read stories that said Sourdough had turrets all over the place. She couldn’t see them, sure, but they’d kill any of those aliens before they got close to them. They were in the safe zone. Their driver had said so.

  ? “H-Hey,” Emily’s voice was shaking, making Maeve look around. The fear in her voice made her own panic shoot up. “W-What is that? Is that an antithesis?”

  ? Maeve whirled around, looking to the sky where Emily pointed. Her heart leapt into her throat, cutting off her breath… before she recognized the vehicle for what it was. She punched her classmate on the shoulder. “Emily, you idiot! That’s obviously a hoverbus!”

  ? “Oh,” Emily muttered, her face turning pink. “Ah, Right. I-I knew that.”

  ? If Maeve could have rolled her eyes any harder, she might have glitched out her augs. She turned with the others to watch the hoverbus swooping over their heads. Strange, she thought. She’d almost expect a vehicle that large to roar like one of those jets, but it made no noise as it began circling. Her classmates were jumping up and down, waving their arms as if they weren’t visible, standing next to a bright blue bus in the middle of a grassy area.

  ? As it completed its last circle, its speed fell away, and the wings at its sides began to retract. It looked more like a bus now, even with the cones of vibrating air sending the grass into a crazy dance as its weight was settled down. The front doors popped open before it fully touched down, swinging up and depositing two people. The kid looked like he was the same age as Maeve, and stumbled slightly as he landed on the ground. He looked a bit like a turtle, with a strange bubble of metal on the back of his vest.

  ? The older man, bald save for a thick, bristling mustache, stumped over to them with a busy pace, looking down at a pad as he shouted at them. “I am Sergeant Ambrose of the I.R.A., responding to a distress call from Marcus Walters. Is he conscious and able to speak with us?”

  ? “I am, and I am,” the driver–Maeve had just realized she’d never learned the man’s name–waved at the sergeant. “As I said on the radio, the tires are busted, and we got no spares. We need an evac out of here.”

  ? “Right you are, sir,” the gruff man said. Maeve smirked, just then thinking that he sounded like a bear who’d learned how to talk like a human. Several of the others giggled to themselves, probably thinking the same thing. “Just have to do a sweep of the area and check your manifest. System won’t let me take off unless we make sure everyone is accounted for.”

  ? “Right, right,” their driver said, waving his arms at the huddle of students. “Any chance you got something warmer for the kids? Most of ‘em ignored the safety briefing and didn’t pack proper coats.”

  ? “Koyuk, get the blankets out,” the sergeant ordered. The boy standing just behind him jumped into action at once, jogging over to the hovering vehicle. A large panel in the middle split and drew to the sides, revealing shelves packed with all kinds of things. Maeve was sure she saw a fire hose coiled up, and wondered what use it would be out here. He stood on the tips of his toes, pulling down a large stack of fabric. Maeve almost groaned as he came closer, revealing just how thick those blankets were.

  ? “Wrap these around yourselves,” the boy said, passing them out. Once they had, he added, “There’s a button there on the corner that will activate the heating cables.”

  ? Maeve pressed the button as her fumbling fingers found it and let out a moan of satisfaction, leaning against the now obsolete hood of the bus. It was like she’d just been dumped into a hot bath. The boy smirked at her reaction, like he’d just personally saved them or something. Cocky bastard, she thought. Typical Fairbanks kid, thinking they were rough and tough because they lived up north.

  ? “Prep the cargo hold for the passengers,” Ambrose ordered. “I’ll do the head count.”

  ? “Aye, Sergeant.” The boy tapped his chest with a fist and jogged away once again. Wasn’t he cold, wearing just that thin shirt? Probably pretending he didn’t feel it, Maeve thought grumpily. The moustache man tapped and swiped at his pad for a few seconds, then spoke into the expectant silence, repeating names. Each of her classmates called out as they were mentioned, herself included. Of course, they hadn’t lost anyone. In less than a minute, he tucked the pad into a pocket at his belt.

  ? “Glad you’re all here,” he said gruffly. “If you’ll follow the cadet, he can get you all situated in the cargo hold.”

  ? Maeve surged forward with the rest of them, her longer legs letting her reach the open doors at the rear first. The boy looked down at her, then extended a hand, helping her up into the back. “Thanks.”

  ? He nodded, then silently pointed to the first of the open seats. The rest of her class filed in, settling into the chairs and buckling themselves in. Cadet Boy leaned out of the vehicle, glancing towards his sergeant. Apparently realizing that the driver was going to take a while, he moved back to Maeve.

  ? “What’s your name?” He asked, leaning down and tugging at the straps that held her to the chair. Was he hitting on her? Right after she’d just been rescued?

  ? “You’re not my type,” she said, trying to put as much venom into the words as she could. He replied with a flat look.

  ? “Good for you. I have to make sure you’re not missing from the roster. What’s your name?”

  ? “Oh,” she said, feeling embarrassed by the misconception. That feeling quickly faded when she spotted his returning smirk. “Maeve Aiken. M-A-E-V-E.”

  ? “I can spell.” He tapped at the pad. “Alright. There you are on the manifest, Miss Aiken. Thank you. Please sit tight while I secure the others.”

  ? Wow, she thought, sticking her tongue out as soon as he turned away. What a gentleman. Emily loved the attention, of course. She batted her eyes up at the boy as he asked her the same information, giving her name freely. He returned the smile, but quickly moved on after tugging at her strap.

  ? “All loaded, Sarge!” He shouted through the open door. “The driver coming?”

  ? “We’re on our way now.”

  ? “Cool,” the boy muttered. “Might be able to visit the market after all.”

  ? “What market?” Maeve asked. That made her think of food. And her empty stomach. “They got burgers there?”

  ? Cadet Boy rolled his eyes, still tapping at his pad. “Nope. Fresh fruit from Cascadia.”

  ? A panel a few feet along the wall suddenly came to life, beeping noisily. Maeve turned to glance at it, curious. Some kind of circle was displayed. Not a circle. A radar. She recognized it from a few action films she’d watched. There were four dots near the top of the circle, slowly moving down toward the center. Frowning, she leaned forward and pointed at the panel.

  ? “Um, what does that mean?”

  ? The boy didn’t even glance up. “Radar.”

  ? “No shit,” she retorted. “I know what a radar is. What are those dots moving toward us?”

  ? That made him look up, a frown creasing his brow. He looked over at the radar, and his eyes shot wide open. “Oh fuck!”

  ? Fantastic reply from a trained rescue agent, Maeve thought, but entirely justifiable. The boy dived for a panel next to it. It held only one thing. A big red button. He slammed his hand onto it and screamed out the back. “Sergeant! We got a problem!!”