Chapter 2: Dal ka Gathan

The barracks smelled like wet wood and regret.

Not fresh wet wood — the clean, sharp scent of newly cut timber — but the sour, accumulated dampness of wood that had been rained on, dried, rained on again, and had eventually surrendered to the humidity the way a soldier surrendered to a superior officer: with resentment and the knowledge that resistance was futile. The bunks were serviceable — metal frames bolted to the floor, thin mattresses that the Game probably classified as "comfort: minimal" — and the windows were glassless, covered with mesh screens that kept out the larger insects but admitted the smaller ones and, more importantly, admitted the jungle's breath: warm, wet, vegetal, the exhale of ten thousand trees pressing against the colony's perimeter.

I sat on my bunk — the springs protesting with the particular squeak of metal that had been supporting disappointment for too long — and opened my HUD's squad management interface.

[SQUAD: AGNI UNIT] Commander: Lieutenant Kartik Agni (Veer-Prashikshak / Dal Nayak) Members:

Ira Kapoor — Reconnaissance Specialist, Level 8 Stats: Strength 18, Reflexes 34, Stamina 22, Magic 15, Willpower 28, Recovery 20 Skills: Shadow Step (3), Precision Shot (4), Terrain Analysis (2), Threat Detection (3)

Hemant Rawat — Heavy Infantry, Level 6 Stats: Strength 38, Reflexes 14, Stamina 35, Magic 10, Willpower 30, Recovery 28 Skills: Fortification (2), Shield Wall (3), Heavy Strike (2), Endurance March (1)

Kunwar Pratap — Tactical Operations, Level 7 Stats: Strength 22, Reflexes 25, Stamina 24, Magic 28, Willpower 20, Recovery 22 Skills: Signal Relay (3), Tactical Scan (2), Comms Override (2), Field Encryption (1)

Sanjana Mehta — Field Medic, Level 5 Stats: Strength 12, Reflexes 20, Stamina 18, Magic 35, Willpower 32, Recovery 40 Skills: Quick Heal (3), Triage Assessment (2), Poison Cure (1), Recovery Boost (2)

Malhar Deshpande — Combat Engineer, Level 6 Stats: Strength 28, Reflexes 18, Stamina 30, Magic 22, Willpower 24, Recovery 25 Skills: Structure Build (3), Trap Design (2), Demolition (2), Repair (2)

I studied the numbers. The squad was — by Kendra Sena standards — below average. None of them were above Level 8. Their stats were respectable but not exceptional. And they'd been assigned to me not because they were the best available but because they, like me, were problems that the Kendra Sena wanted to forget. Hemant had refused a direct order that he considered immoral. Ira had hacked a superior officer's personal files to prove a corruption charge. Kunwar had — I looked at his record — been transferred twice for "interpersonal difficulties," which was military language for "something is off about this person but we can't pin it down." Sanjana had filed too many reports about medical supply shortages. Malhar had built unauthorized modifications to his unit's defenses and been reprimanded for "exceeding operational parameters."

Troublemakers. Whistleblowers. Square pegs in round holes. The Kendra Sena's rejects.

My people.

"All right," I said. The squad was assembled in the barracks — sitting on bunks, leaning against walls, standing in the particular postures of soldiers who were assessing a new commander and had not yet decided whether to respect him. "Let's get one thing straight. Cherai is a punishment posting. Everyone in this room knows that. The Kendra Sena sent us here because they want us to fail quietly in a place nobody looks at. That's the plan."

"And our plan?" Hemant asked. He was a big man — broad-shouldered, thick-necked, the kind of body that the Game's Strength stat was designed to quantify but couldn't quite capture. His voice was deep and unhurried, the voice of a man who had learned that patience was a form of power. His hands — massive, calloused, the hands of someone who had been building and fighting and building again for years — rested on his knees.

"Our plan is to make their plan look stupid." I pulled up the quest notification on the shared HUD display — the holographic screen that occupied the barracks' only table. The text glowed amber in the damp air:

[QUEST: Cherai Restoration — EXTREME]

"This quest has been active for four years," I said. "Zero progress. The previous commanders didn't even try. They sat in this barracks, drank with Bhrigu, served out their time, and shipped out. We are not doing that."

"Respectfully, sir," Kunwar said — and the "respectfully" had the particular emphasis that meant the following statement will not be respectful — "the quest is rated Extreme. We're a six-person squad with an average level of six. The colony has no resources, no defenses, and no support from Central Command. What exactly do you propose?"

I looked at him. Kunwar Pratap was — I assessed — sharp. Sharp face, sharp eyes, sharp mind. The kind of sharpness that was either an asset or a threat, depending on which direction it was pointed. He sat on his bunk with the casual precision of a person who was always aware of the exits.

"I propose we start with what we have," I said. "Malhar — what can you build with local materials?"

Malhar straightened. He was medium-height, wiry, with the perpetually grease-stained hands of an engineer and the eager expression of a person who had been waiting for someone to ask him that question for a very long time. "Plenty, sir. The jungle's timber is strong — stronger than standard military prefab, actually. The local stone is volcanic, good for walls and foundations. If I had Iron and Stone from the Game's resource system, I could upgrade the existing structures to Level 2 at minimum. Without them —" he shrugged. "Timber walls, timber towers. Better than what we've got. Not great against anything with energy weapons."

"Sanjana — medical supplies?"

"Nonexistent." She didn't sugarcoat it. Sanjana was small, precise, with the particular tidiness of a person who believed that disorder was the enemy of survival. Her medkit — the same one she'd carried down the ramp, clutched like a lifeline — contained the basics: bandages, Quick Heal charges, a diagnosis scanner. "The medical facility is locked and has been for two years. Bhrigu says the previous medic requisitioned supplies that never arrived, and eventually gave up and transferred out. I'll need to inventory what's left and submit new requisitions."

"Which Bhrigu will charge a twenty percent fee for," Ira said from her bunk. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, her voice carrying the particular flatness of someone relaying information they found personally offensive. "I checked. Everything that goes through the administrator costs twenty percent. It's not corruption — it's built into the colony's operating procedures. Central Command approved it."

"Central Command approved a system that makes everything twenty percent more expensive in a colony they've already starved of resources," I said. "Of course they did."

"The beautiful efficiency of bureaucratic sabotage," Ira said. "You don't need to send assassins when you can send accountants."

Despite the grim assessment, something shifted in the room. I could feel it — the particular vibration of a group that was transitioning from passive to active, from we've been assigned here to we're going to do something here. It wasn't trust yet. Trust took time. But it was the precursor to trust: interest. Curiosity. The willingness to see what happens next.

"Here's the plan for the next seventy-two hours," I said. "Hemant — I want a full assessment of the defensive wall. Every gap, every weak point, every section that can be reinforced with local materials. Malhar — work with Hemant. I want designs for timber reinforcements that we can start building immediately. Sanjana — get into the medical facility. Inventory everything. Requisition what you need. Ira — reconnaissance. I want to know what's in that jungle within a five-kilometre radius. Fauna, flora, terrain, resources, threats. Everything."

"And me?" Kunwar asked.

"Communications. I want every channel working. I want to know what's happening in the Chakra sector. And I want to establish contact with the Dweepvasi — we're sharing this moon, and I'd rather have them as allies than neighbours."

The squad moved. Not with the sharp, synchronized precision of a well-oiled unit — not yet — but with the particular energy of people who had been given purpose after a period of purposelessness. Hemant's heavy footsteps. Malhar's quick stride. Sanjana's precise movements. Kunwar's quiet departure.

Ira stayed. She sat up on her bunk, swung her legs over the edge, and looked at me with the chai-coloured eyes that saw everything and judged most of it.

"You're going to burn yourself out," she said.

"Probably."

"The colony is worse than the briefing suggested. The quest is impossible. Central Command wants us to fail. And you've got that look — the one you get when someone tells you something can't be done."

"What look?"

"The one that says watch me." She stood, crossed the narrow space between our bunks, and sat beside me. Her body was warm against my side — compact, muscular, the particular warmth of a person whose resting state was ready. She smelled of the transport ship's recycled air and, beneath it, something that was distinctly Ira: clean sweat, weapon oil, the faint citrus of the soap she'd somehow acquired and hoarded.

"I'm not saying don't try," she said. "I'm saying don't forget that you have us. This isn't a solo quest."

"I know."

"Do you? Because you've got a stat for it — Savior Complex. The Game literally coded your tendency to try to do everything yourself into your character sheet. It's a skill, Kartik. Which means it can be a strength or a weakness, depending on how you use it."

She was right. She was usually right. The Savior Complex skill — Rakshak Dharma, the protector's duty — was one of my starting abilities, and it was both a blessing and a curse: it boosted my stats when I was defending others, but it also meant I instinctively put myself in danger when someone else was at risk. The Game had looked at my psychology and turned it into a mechanic.

"I'll use it wisely," I said.

"Liar." She leaned against me — the weight of her body, small but solid, pressing against my arm. "But you'll have me to remind you."

Outside, the jungle breathed. The mesh screens filtered the evening light into a crosshatch pattern on the barracks floor. Somewhere, a creature called — a long, rising note, like a sitar string being plucked in slow motion, the sound resonating through the humid air and fading into the canopy.

I opened my HUD. The quest marker glowed. The colony's status indicators — mostly red, a few amber, nothing green — blinked in the corner of my vision like warning lights in a cockpit.

Cherai Colony. Extreme difficulty. Zero progress.

Day one.