Selma and Andrei volunteer to become Pryce Tree’s human agents, as does
Andrei’s love interest, Ayata. The two of them have not yet defined their
relationship, but they are definitely some sort of couple. Ayata’s boss,
Cosette doesn’t want her to go, but the tree needs a team of three people
for safety reasons, and no one else is stepping up. It’s not like the others
won’t be doing anything. If they’re going to live in the Garden Dimension,
then they’re expected to contribute. Princess Honeypea will have them
working with the plants, making sure they’re healthy and happy. She’s
excited to have this many people around all at once. It’s a rare sight.
These organisms aren’t for show, only for their own preservation. Selma
thinks that it’s a bit weird, but the people who run this place seem to
think that protecting the otherwise extinct strains is inherently valuable,
whether anyone is around to enjoy them or not.
The three agents are asked to wade through the water, halfway across the
conflux of the rivers, and onto the dry land on the other side. They
expected it to be quite cold, but it’s the perfect temperature, and actually
quite relaxing, even as they’re moving through it at a fairly quick pace.
They continue to walk in the same direction over the prairie until they come
to a door on the side of a hill. They ring the doorbell, as instructed, but
instead of receiving a vocal response, the door opens on its own. They
follow the steps down into what looks like a bunker. It’s a bit eerie, but
only because they don’t exactly know what’s going on; not because anything
feels nefarious.
A woman in a lab coat is sitting on a stool behind a counter with her back
to them. She’s working on something that they can’t see. She spins around,
and pushes her steampunk goggles up to her forehead. “Can I help you?”
“We were told to come here. Are we in the right place?” Andrei asks.
“I dunno. Who told you?”
“The...tr—tree.”
“Ah, yes. If that’s what it said, that’s what it meant.” The scientist
removes her goggles altogether, and pulls off her gloves. She grabs an
earpiece from the table between them, and sticks it in her ear, but has to
hold it in place. “I have three people here?” She listens to a response.
“Full tack?” She waits again. “Well, what is their objective?” More waiting.
“I could give them the nanosuit implants that Ramses Abdulrashid invented in
the main sequence. That would be superior.” Only a few seconds this time.
“Okay, then. I’m on it.” She sets the earpiece back down.
“What is a nanosuit?” Ayata asks, intrigued.
“She also said implants. I’m not up for that,” Selma contends.
“You’re not authorized for them anyway,” the scientist lady says. She
reaches out. “My name is Weaver. I don’t work for the Garden
Dimension, per se, but they let me work out of here, and in exchange, I use
some of my technology to protect this world from external threats. I’m told
that you’re to receive tactical gear for recon—and possibly
offensive—missions. I can tell you how the gear works, and how to use it,
but I’m guessing that you’ll be meeting with Captain Montagne for the
rundown of your responsibilities. I’m also assuming that Eight Point Seven
will be your pilot.”
“Is that someone’s name?” Andrei questions. “Eight Point Seven?”
“It is. Please don’t interrupt me.” She steps around the table, and heads
towards an open doorway. “Right this way.” She leads them down the dim
hallway, which automatically lights up before them, then dims again behind.
A door opens up for her, and they walk into a locker room. She points. “Lav
through there, booths for privacy if you need them. You can put your old
clothes in one of these bags, and take them with you, or just find an empty
locker. Follow the instructions to designate an access code, and leave them
here. These big lockers here will have everything you need. It will be
obvious how to put the clothing on. You don’t have to look in the packs
right now. I’ll train you on them once you’re ready, which we’ll do in the
briefing room across the hall.” She goes back through the door to leave them
to it. “Whenever you’re ready.”
They’re all friends here, so they don’t use the privacy booths. Once they’re
finished getting dressed, they look like bona fide soldiers, and Selma is
worried about stolen valor. They aren’t wearing any sort of rank indicators,
or whatever, but it still feels disrespectful. She is a civil servant and a
leader, not a fighter. What the hell has she gotten herself into? They grab
their packs from the bottom of their lockers, and walk over to the briefing
room. Weaver has all the contents that are in their own bags laid out on the
demonstration table. It’s like a spy movie. She goes over every item, no
matter how obvious or mundane, including the extra socks, and firestarter.
“But you don’t know where we’re going, or what we’re gonna be doing?” Selma
presses.
“I have no clue,” Weaver admits. “I found out where you’ll be conducting
your training, and it won’t be here, but other than that, they’ve told me
nothing.”
The faint image of the magnolia tree appears on the other side of the room.
Pryce Tree steps out of it as if it were a door, and lets it fade away
behind him. “Are you all ready to go?”
“We’re doing training?” Andrei asks him to confirm.
“You didn’t think we were just gonna throw you out there with nothing, did
you?” Pryce Tree laughs. “We’re not monsters. You never answered my
question.”
This is all very overwhelming, but no one says anything out loud. They just
exchange looks, and it’s clear that none of them was prepared for what they
were getting themselves into. They should have asked for more information
before raising their hands. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s done.
They’re certainly not going to back out now, and saddle someone else with
this responsibility. They each nod, and let the magical tree spirit them
away.
They’re standing in front of a man in a dojo. He’s wearing robes, and no
shoes or socks. He’s cycling through a deck of note cards, presumably trying
to learn or memorize something. “I’ll be with you in a second.” He keeps
pulling the top card out, and slipping it back into the back. He does a few
more before he comes to a stopping point. He checks his watch. “My name is
Darko—”
“Heh,” a woman sitting in the corner interrupts him.
Darko rolls his eyes. “For the sake of consistency, I have been asked to
change my designation. In the spirit of cooperation with my gracious hosts,
you may call me Prince Darko. That’s not my real name. It’s a
holdover from an old reality where I was a little less...conscientious. That
over there is my apprentice, Jesimula Utkin. Don’t worry about what she
thinks.”
“Uh, he’s teaching me taekwondo,” Jesimula corrects. “I know how to fight,
I’m just expanding my repertoire.”
“Don’t you have an away mission to prepare for?” Darko asks her.
“It’s a wellness check on New Welrios,” Jesimula explains. “They don’t want
me there.”
“I understand the sentiment.”
Jesimula sticks her tongue out like a child, but then leaves.
“Sorry about that. We’re still learning to get along, but we don’t hate each
other. As I was saying, I’m Prince Darko Matic—”
“Are you related to Mateo or Leona?” Andrei asks him.
“He’s my half-brother,” Prince Darko answers. “You didn’t get any background
info before you came here, did you?”
“We have no idea where we are, or what we’ll be doing,” Selma says.
“What are your names?” Darko asks.
“I’m Andrei Orlov. This is Selma Eriksen, and the lovely and beguiling,
Ayata Seegers.”
Darko narrows his eyes at them, but specifically at Ayata. “Seegers.” He
starts cycling through his note cards again until he finds what he’s looking
for. Hartwin Seegers.”
Ayata is very surprised to hear this. “That’s my grandfather.”
Darko nods. “He served as a tactician in a covert outfit known as SD-6 in
the Third Rail. Were you aware of that?”
“We were aware that...he did something,” Ayata acknowledges. “He died a few
years ago, before he ever got into specifics.”
“One of his teammates lives here, Kivi Bristol. Would you like to meet
here?” It looks like Darko is about to make a call through his watch.
“That’s okay,” Ayata answers quickly.
“Very well.” Darko nods again. “Moving on, I was asked to teach you basic
well-rounded combat skills, as well as introductory use of firearms, and
common weapons. I was told that this is time-sensitive, which is a little
strange since you’re apparently from the past. But I’m not gonna argue with
a sentient tree, so I’ll be taking you through my intensive program.” He
reaches down to the bench behind him, and lifts the seat to retrieve three
mesh bags. He drops one at each of their feet. “These are your bags of
rocks. You’ll notice that there’s only one rock in there right now. This
represents your lack of skill. Go ahead and pick up your bags,” he directs
as if they should have known to do that unprompted. “You will keep your bag
with you at all times. You’ll sleep with it, and you’ll shower with it, and
when I ask you to run five kilometers, you’ll lug it around the track with
you. When you screw up, you get a new rock. When you fail to meet time, you
get a new rock. When you talk back to me... That’s right, new rock. Luckily,
I’m a merciful teacher. When you do something well, I’ll take a rock back.
At the end of your training, the person with the lightest bag wins. I’ll
tell you precisely what you win when we cross that bridge. Any questions so
far?”
Andrei holds up a hand, but doesn’t wait to be called upon. “Are they
weighted? Are major screw-ups awarded by a heavier rock?”
Darko salutes facetiously. “Major Screw-up. Yes, a heavier rock means you
failed miserably. A pebble would just be a tiny little mistake.” He pulls a
smallish rock out of his robe pocket, steps forward, and slips it into
Andrei’s bag.
“What’s this for? Did I already mess up?”
“I just kinda don’t like your voice.” Darko drops another small rock into
his bag.
Without a hint of anger, Andrei fiddles with his watch, and then lifts it up
to his lips. “How’s this?” he asks, using technology to replicate Darko’s
voice instead.
Darko drops a third rock in his bag for a total of four. “I don’t like
people mimicking my voice either.” He went back to his place before them.
“This was your first lesson. I am the Keeper of the Rocks. I decide what
constitutes an addition or subtraction, and there will be no arguing with me
about it. I literally asked for questions, so he didn’t technically do
anything wrong, but I’m the boss, and I reserve the right to change or
reinterpret the rules without even telling you. Any other questions?”
Silence.
“Good, that means you’re learning.” Darko takes two rocks out his pocket,
dropping one in Selma’s bag, and the other in Ayata’s. “These are just
because it’s Tuesday. All right. Clip those around your waists, and let’s
get to it.” He claps his hands, and walks over to slide open a door to
another room, which seems to be a boxing gym.
They’re afraid to ask, but come to learn after a few days that this
intensive program is set to last three weeks. They run the gamut for basic
training. They do weightlifting, cardio exercise, self-defense, boxing,
martial arts, weapons safety, marksmanship, and mindfulness. None of them is
an elite superspy when they’re done, but they feel stronger and more
prepared than they were when this all began. It is Selma who ends up the
winner with zero rocks left in her bag. She doesn’t question it when Darko
reaches over, and plants a sticker of a smiling sun on her chest. That’s it,
that’s the grand prize. And it’s more than enough. For now. She decides that
she doesn’t really want to go on any missions. She wants to keep learning.
