Battle Heat (Battle Heat #1)
Prologue
10 YEARS EARLIER
My legs moved up and down restlessly under the bench I was sitting on next to Principal Green’s office. It was the first time I had been called to his office, and I had no idea why.
I pursed my lips and leaned over to look into the hallway. A bit further on, the secretary smiled at me kindly as she held the phone to her ear. I returned the smile, but an ominous feeling ran through my body.
The door to the office opened. A girl I didn’t recognize walked out. Her eyes looked puffy, and the corners of her mouth were drooping. The principal stood in the doorway watching her silently depart. He wore a brown-checkered three-piece suit, stylish round glasses, and his russet hair was neatly styled. He casually pulled a pocket watch from his jacket and checked the time.
A heartbeat later, he turned to me and smiled broadly. “Hunter Jameson. Come on in.”
I smiled back hesitantly, and carefully followed him into the office.
The office consisted almost entirely of dark brown lacquered wood with golden details: table legs, pens, a clock, a letter opener—you name it.
I sat down in a luxurious brown leather chair opposite his desk and looked at the map on the wall behind it. It was a detailed representation of our continent, Ardenza, whose right side was entirely cloaked in black: the shadow plains. In geography, we’d learned that these shadow plains had expanded over our continent to include a large part of the rest of the world.
“Hunter,” he started, and my attention quickly turned back to the principal. “Do I understand correctly that you plan to do the medical program after you graduate?”
My heart hammered in my throat. I swallowed. “Yes, that’s right.”
Principal Green clasped his hands together and looked at me intently. “Your class mentor also told me you’re looking for more stimulation.”
I nodded. “Yes, but I just meant an extra class or something.”
The principal grinned. “Don’t worry, Hunter. Wanting more of an intellectual challenge isn’t a bad thing. I’m here to help you with that.” He cleared his throat. “We are looking for a student who can handle an incredibly challengingprogram, and we think you are the perfect candidate.”
“Oh,” I replied, dumbstruck. “What kind of program?”
The principal handed me a booklet, and, after reading the title, I glanced up in surprise. “This is about the medical program.”
“Indeed,” Principal Green said. “They’re looking for serious, talented students who can take the preparatory course alongside their current studies—so that they can reduce the shortage of doctors and surgeons in the military.”
Interested, I flipped through the booklet, then looked back at him. “And you think I’m a suitable candidate for this program?”
The principal nodded and opened a folder from which he retrieved some documents. “The first three years of secondary school, you were already far ahead of everyone else, and we know you can easily handle this level of study. I also understand that you take part in many extracurricular activities—time you could also spend on medical school. The program takes a lot of time and effort, but knowing what I know about the students at our school, I can only recommend you.”
The idea of giving up my extracurricular activities—not seeing the friends I made from these different groups and clubs a few days a week felt like a weight on my heart.
“Would I stay in the same classes I’m in now?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that will be difficult. We may be able to arrange some of your classes, but we will rebuild your high school education around the preparatory course. You’ll probably have to take some other classes.”
I took a deep breath. Medical school was my dream, but obviously it would be easier to finish high school first and then start the program. What did those three years matter?
A lot, said a little voice in my head. It matters a lot. You’re bored at school right now. No one has ever finished the medical program this quickly! Imagine being one of the first.
My heart beat faster just thinking about it. Becoming one of the youngest surgeons in all of Ardenza sounded very alluring.
“Can I take this home to discuss with my parents?” As a fifteen-year-old, I didn’t even know if I was allowed to make this decision independently.
Principal Green smiled. “Of course you can, Hunter, but it’s ultimately your decision. You should also know that it’s a test program, and we can offer this to only one student from our school, which is why we pay the entire preparatory course for you.”
It was a fantastic opportunity. Everything I’d been working towards, presented on a silver platter. It was true that I obtained good marks with little effort, but that didn’t mean that I could also follow an entire course alongside my current studies—which also required me to give up on a lot of fun things. Could I live with that?
“You’re the perfect candidate, Hunter,” the principal said. “I’m sure you can pass the program. You undoubtedly have the potential—the longer it takes for you to graduate from the medical program, the longer others have to wait for your talents.”
Principal Green was well-respected, and seemed like the sort of man that wanted to keep his reputation intact, so I was sure he wouldn’t recommend me for a program if he wasn’t sure I could handle it.
A shiver ran through my body. This was my ultimate dream.
“There’s only one condition,” he said. “If you enter the program, you must enlist in the military for a minimum of three years after completing full medical training.”
I looked up at him and nodded. I could live with that.
Chapter 1
THE YEAR 2163
I wove the needle through the patient’s skin and threaded a complicated pattern I could do in my sleep by now. My hands worked together like a well-oiled machine, repeating the movements over and over, slowly closing the open wound. I was pleased with the result, and predicted that the skin would heal nicely—even though I wasn’t a plastic surgeon.
“Scissors,” I said, as the operating assistant was already placing the required tool in my hand. Again, I reminded myself that I didn’t really have to say what I needed. That habit had become so ingrained during my training that I still did it out of habit. Working in a hospital with fully trained medical professionals differed from working in the military, where most surgical assistants had a dual role.
I finished the suture thoroughly and meticulously, after which I left the patient in the care of the medical assistants that were present. This way of working had initially also taken some getting used to, as I found it challenging to give up the care of a patient. But after I realized I could be of more value if I just practiced my profession, I’d been able to let go of this control—not to mention the expertise of the medical assistants who worked here.
It finally felt normal to work independently in an operating room after graduating from my six-year training to become a trauma surgeon. I had grown more confident over the years, which had been difficult, because ever since starting the medical program, I’ve heard people whispering that I was the child prodigy.
So, no pressure at all.
The sliding doors automatically opened as I exited the operating room, and I entered a space where I could undo my surgical gown and disinfect myself.
While I was soaping my arms under the warm water, the door on the other side slid open and a soldier stepped inside. His dark uniform made a stark contrast with the white, sterile space.
“Lieutenant Dr. Jameson?”
I nodded, but continued washing my hands.
“Major General Hawke wants to see you,” the soldier said, saluting, as was customary in the military when addressing someone of higher rank.
“All right. Let the Major General know I’ll be there as soon as I’m changed.”
I exited the room a moment later and undid my braid, letting my dark blonde curls hang free. After I put my army uniform back on, and got my belongings from my locker, I followed the path to the army base.
Looking out of the windows, I bit my cheek. Night slowly emerged at the same time as always due to the slowly dimming synthetic sunlight lamps that filled the sky.
Was I finally going to get my first mission?
* * *
I knocked on the office door and opened it as I saluted Major General Hawke, who was sitting behind her desk. The last time I was here had been right after graduation, for my job interview. The only thing that had changed since then was that the Major General had cut her brown hair noticeably shorter.
“Take a seat, Lieutenant Jameson,” she said, gesturing with a small smile to the chair in front of her desk. The Major General always seemed to have a peculiar smile—as if she knew something you didn’t.
She examined the paperwork in front of her and clasped her hands together, her eyes fixing on me again. “You’ve never been on a mission, correct?”
I nodded. Please, please, please.
“Right.” She regarded me thoughtfully as she paused. “I’m going to make a big exception, Lieutenant, and I expect you to take this seriously.”
Underneath the table, I made fists of my now clammy hands. “Of course, Major General.”
The Major General put her hands flat on the papers and spread her fingers. “There is a mission under the command of General Zaregova, SSU mission 3B, which is critical to both the world we live in, and that of the future.”
General Zaregova’s Special Shadow Unit mission 3B was indeed well known—infamous even. There wasn’t much known about what happened there, except that they tracked down mutants and took them from the shadow plains for scientific research. It was widely regarded as the most challenging mission in Ardenza, the only mission on this continent that allowed soldiers to enter the plains.
Nearly half of the continent consisted of these dark regions called the shadow plains. No sane person would go in there—not while mutants roamed them.
Most of the mutants had been ordinary people before a mutation occurred inside them due to lack of sunlight. As a result, they developed abnormal strength and lost the capability to think logically. According to the research group in Barak, it turned out that they could only use their reptilian brain, as the rest of their brain had given out. “Turned off,” as the scientists called it.
I’d once seen a mutant during my training, and it didn’t even closely resemble a human. Fortunately, he had been dead because an adult mutant had the strength of five average people combined. We learned they did the same things beasts did: sleep, eat, and mate. Before there was a wall, they presumably abducted animals and people from the borders to eat them when the food on their side was rapidly declining. I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if they ate each other—but skin and bone didn’t really fill a stomach.
Major General Hawke continued, “Mutants killed an entire team during a recent mission. One of the casualties was a trauma surgeon. They’re now short a surgeon on the medical team, and need a skilled replacement to support the mission.” She cleared her throat for a moment, then looked at me sharply. “I’d hate to see you go, Lieutenant, but they asked for my professional opinion, and I can only recommend you. In addition, it makes no sense for a military trauma surgeon to solely work in the hospital.
“You are a fast learner, intelligent and young, so I have no doubt you will quickly catch up with the pace there. Promotion to major is already on the horizon anyway, so that’s a logical—if not accelerated—next step.”
Then I can only recommend you. That was the exact phrase my high school principal had used when he asked me to follow the medical preparatory course through a double track. The military’s demand for doctors and surgeons had surpassed the supply, as most aspiring physicians and surgeons found the military and the shadow plains a waste of time. Over there, ‘nothing ever happened anyway.’ That’s why they wanted to see if they could recruit high school students and reduce the shortage a bit. I knew this hadn’t produced the desired result, as I was the only one of the twenty students across the continent who had completed the program.
I swallowed. “Isn’t my lack of experience a problem?”
This had been the question I hadn’t dared to ask back then. But getting a rare opportunity to make your dream come true as a fifteen-year-old wasn’t something you turned down at that point in your life. However, when it came to this crucial mission, I asked anyway. I was willing to do anything for my career, but only if it had a positive impact. Not in a million years did I want to be the person who stood in the way of this vital mission and throw my career—everything I’d worked so hard for over the years—out the window.
The Major General slowly shook her head and suddenly looked much older. “No experience can prepare you for mission 3B, or what it’s like to step onto the shadow plains. It would be a mistake to send someone else instead of the one who has the singular potential for such a mission.”
I ran my hands over the pants of my uniform and nodded again. This mission might be very demanding, but that was no reason to doubt my abilities. This mission was my chance to prove myself. A mission like 3B would be a great asset to my career; I would get to go out into the shadows and work in direct contact with mutants—which was a unique opportunity.
The shadows had been allowed to expand for a long time before there even was a wall and an official border. Since then, camps and border guards had been set up all along the wall to keep the shadow plains under control. The walls had halted the expansion of the area, which in theory could be called a success, but everyone knew the wall was only a temporary solution to an increasing problem. Any person who thought otherwise was naive. The area’s growth may have stopped, but the development of the mutant population was still in full swing—if we were to believe the reports.
The Major General took a deep breath, tapping her fingers on the desk. “As you know, the goal of mission 3B is to obtain as many mutants from the shadow plains as possible for scientific research. There are alternating extraction and scouting missions, usually lasting from a few days to a few weeks. The groups cannot go onto the plains with more than a couple of soldiers at a time, and since adult mutants are incredibly strong, they only extract the younger mutants.”
She meant mutants born there.
I glanced at my hands for a moment, then back to the Major General—who was assessing me as she continued briefing me on the mission. “Because the groups can be gone for a long time, and potentially get into danger, they need skilled and reliable trauma specialists, so that if something happens, the team has the best chance of survival.”
Nodding, I felt adrenaline rushing through my veins.
“There are a handful of alternating trauma surgeons on the mission base. Often, there are a few weeks in-between the missions you go on, because they demand a lot from you. Only General Zaregova goes into the field almost every time. The rest of the days, you work on the base and monitor the soldiers in the field.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Why does the General go so often?”
Major General Hawke folded her hands thoughtfully over her stomach. “He knows the area best, and doesn’t want his unit in any unnecessary danger.”
“And what if something happens to him?” I asked. “Who will take over the mission then? Isn’t it inconvenient to be so dependent on one person?”
“The whole situation is inconvenient,” the Major General replied. “And if I’m honest, there isn’t enough time to get others at the same level as the General. He’s the best in the world at what he does. He is an exceptional, distinguished leader. But you should take up specific details of the mission with the General himself.”
I just nodded.
She gave me another intense look. “So, do you want to take on the mission?”
“Do I have a choice?” I laughed nervously, raising my eyebrows at her.
Nervous, because I knew full well that I wasn’t giving myself a choice. I had to do this. I’d worked so hard for a chance like this. Now I could finally show myself—and others—that I’m indeed as good as everyone expected me to be. Saying no wasn’t an option.
“I haven’t told them my choice yet.” The Major General narrowed her eyes. “This is a unique situation, Lieutenant. It’s your first mission, and the death toll is high. It’s not just anything I ask of you.”
To restrain and hide my nerves, I controlled my breathing.
This mission mattered to the world—a mission that could really make a difference and change the future, that could change my future, in more than one way.
I met her gaze and nodded firmly. “I’ll do it.”
Chapter 2
“It’s happening, Mom,” I said to the screen showing my parents.
The crease between my mother’s eyebrows deepened. “Hunter, are you sure? You can still come home. You don’t owe anyone in this world anything, you know that, right?”
My father soothingly rubbed her back.
Unfortunately, I did. After my father became ill twelve years ago, I’d sworn to help other people as his doctor had helped him. It was priceless, and incredibly empowering, to watch the doctor save my father’s life. I’d been so impressed that it became my dream to help other people in the same way from that moment on.
I smiled at my parents, who only ever wanted to see me happy. “This is what I’ve worked for—what I trained for. I choose to do this.” My eyes slid to the corner of the screen to check the time, then back to the rest of my room, which I had already tidied up.
“I also don’t have much time left to get ready for the flight, so I have to finish up,” I said quickly.
“But you weren’t trained for mission 3B, were you?” my mother asked, shaking her head.
“No one is trained for that,” I replied.
My mother looked at my father, and a moment later, she said, “You will keep in touch, won’t you?”
“I’m rarely allowed to contact the home front, but I’ll do my best to let you know something when I can.” My eyes stung, and I bit down on my lower lip.
My father put an arm around my mother’s shoulders and winked at me. “Just be careful there, okay? We’d like to see you return in one piece.”
My mother sighed in frustration and slapped him faintly against his chest.
At least they had each other. That made it so much easier for me to go.
I blew them a kiss. “See you again in a few months.”They wished me luck, and I quickly ended the conversation. Blinking away tears, I closed the screen and said my goodbyes to the single room I’d lived in for a year.
* * *
An hour later, I walked towards the hover plane with my belongings—which all fit in a single bag.
I’d never had many material possessions: proof that work and pursuing my goals dominated most of my life. People could also conclude that I valued moments more, but I wasn’t a sentimental person.
Additionally, I didn’t have many people to say goodbye to—which reminded me how empty my life was. Except for a handful of medics I’d worked with in the hospital, no one would even notice that I was gone. The life I had built up to this point was empty—a shell of unfulfilled potential.
The flight went smoothly, and, because of the hover technique, in almost complete silence. I had arrived within hours at an airbase close to the wall. At least, as close as possible to land because of the lack of light. Not to mention the way the communication and navigation systems seemed to fail the closer we got to the shadows.
I was taken to a small pick-up point in a hover heli because they had more control. The pilot knew the path to the destination by heart, and didn’t need a navigation system.
There was a large armored car waiting to take me to the base. The ride with the armored car was only half an hour, but in that short time, my eyes had slowly gotten used to a world that was only getting darker.
Fewer and fewer lights lined the road, to the point where we couldn’t see anything anymore. Only the glare from the headlights made it possible to observe how the normal road turned into a path that could no longer be called a road. I bounced in different directions on the backseat, and had to hold on tight so I wouldn’t get pushed into my seat belts at every bump.
There was a reason, of course. Because of the mutants’ heightened senses, they were drawn to any sign of life like a moth to a flame, responding to every sensory stimulus they perceived.
The only reason the part of the world I lived in wasn’t shrouded in darkness is that we’d developed the technology to mimic sunlight. I’ve never seen or felt a real sunbeam in my life, as the sun stopped producing light long before I was born.
My parents had grown up with a sun that weakened each year, but they still had experienced the natural sun. According to them, the fabricated sunlight today was very similar. For example, warmth and discoloration of the skin were both qualities that the natural sun also used to have, but with improvements of our technologists who’d removed the harmful radiation.
Despite those benefits, I would’ve loved to see one of our moons lit up. Or a real rainbow. Unfortunately, my generation only knew these phenomena through paintings and old photos.
It was also a lot colder here. The car windows fogged up as I brought my head closer to look outside. The headlights lit up parts of the road, and I could spot snow on the trail every now and again. When the driver finally put out the headlights, my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and I could see faint lights in the distance seeping through the trees.
The base of mission 3B.
The driver, who’d been relatively quiet the entire ride, brought the car to a halt, and I got out. I thanked him after grabbing my bag, and he only responded with a curt nod. Then he drove back up the path we’d come from.
“Major Dr. Jameson?” I heard from behind me.
I suppressed a smile at hearing my new title. Major.
I turned and saw a man walking towards me from the darkness with an outstretched hand.
Nodding, I shook his hand. “That’s me.”
The man noted something on his clipboard and motioned for me to follow him. “Now we’re complete.”
I followed him across the cold terrain and looked at my surroundings. There was no paved road—just a hard, sand-covered surface from which solid pieces of rock protruded. There were, however, quite a few buildings whose entrances and exits were dimly lit. The buildings all looked the same, but varied in size and format. They looked like metal containers: sturdy, static, and movable if necessary.
But everything paled compared to the wall on my right, rising above the base. It looked the same as in the pictures of other parts I’d seen so far: a large row of concrete blocks at least thirty-three feet high. The only difference were the steel frames that sporadically supported this part of the wall. And despite already looking majestic in the photos, the wall was a lot more impressive in real life.
A fierce gust of wind swept past my back toward the massive wall, but was cut off abruptly and turned into a sharp whoosh, making me shiver. From the wind, or from the idea of what was behind the wall, I didn’t know. Probably both.
We eventually stepped into a room that, to my surprise, was pleasantly heated. There were two other soldiers already inside. I took a seat in one of the designated chairs, and the man who’d led me inside took a position at the front of the room.
“Welcome to the base of SSU 3B. I want to thank you for your efforts in advance, because this is not just any mission. Some soldiers who come here don’t return home.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t mean this as a threat. It’s just fact. And here we prefer to give each other the harsh reality rather than a sparkling illusion.
“We have already received and processed your information. Your uniforms and other necessities are already present in your assigned rooms. We expect you to wear the designated clothes for the appropriate activities, so that we’re always aware of what each person is doing and to what division they belong.
“Each unit: medical, logistics, technical, infantry, and the others all have their own color. Your respective ranks have already been applied to your various uniforms. Never share an item of clothing unless there’s absolutely no other option.”
He checked something off his clipboard, then looked back up. “Get yourself intensive light therapy during your stay, for at least four hours a day. There’s a sunlight lamp available in every room, in addition to the standard lighting, and there are sunlight lamps in the public areas.
“This is extremely important. We don’t want you to get sick from lack of sunlight. Light therapy is already scarce here, so please have the discipline to keep yourself to it.” His piercing gaze roamed over us. “That doesn’t apply when you go into the field. There, you aren’t assured of a few hours of light per day. So do yourself—and us—a favor and make time for it when you can.”
Fifty years ago, for reasons still unknown, the sun began to dim, and its rays became increasingly scarce, causing many people to get sick slowly. By the time scientists were working on mimicking sunlight, it was already too late for large parts of the world’s population. And since synthetic sunlight technology was outrageously expensive and couldn’t be distributed fast enough, much of the world—mainly the poorer parts—went dark.
Ultimately, the lack of sunshine activated a then-unknown mutation gene in people with an advanced sunlight deficiency. After the world’s first cities were engulfed in chaos, scientists and doctors discovered the existence of this gene and its presence in humans. Every human, apparently. Once that mutation caused permanent changes in the genes of large parts of the sick world population, it was the beginning of the downfall. The more people mutated, the more deaths occurred, and everything around it went to shit. The darkness spread like an oil stain over large parts of the world, resulting in the rest of the world growing aware of the severity—as always, too late. Currently, half of the planet is cloaked in darkness, and half of the world’s population, mutant.
They haven’t discovered a solution to reverse the mutation yet, but the scientists also believe it’s no longer about that. They’ve already concluded that even sunlight wouldn’t be able to reverse it anymore, making it a permanent mutation. Besides, the mutants had lived like this for at least twenty years, so even if they found a solution—the people they once were probably wouldn’t be there anymore. They generally agreed that the mutants were a lost cause—except perhaps for the children, if the reproduction hadn’t resulted in any major genetic modifications.
Besides looking for a solution to the growing mutant problem, they also focused on deactivating the gene in the healthy part of humanity. Until then, we had to get light therapy without most people being aware of it. Life had simply adjusted to it.
But being here, so close to the shadow plains, you were put back with both feet on the ground. There was still a problem, a big problem, that wasn’t just going to disappear.
I was ripped from my thoughts as the male soldier finished up his talk.
“That’s it for now. You will learn the rest in due time.” He checked something. “In the coming days, the General will invite you for a short introductory meeting. He wants to meet everyone who comes in.”
I suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow.
The soldier put down his clipboard and rolled a large screen forward. He tapped the display, and a map appeared. With a marker, he made a dot on the screen. “Currently, we’re here.” He traced a path across the map to another point, where he drew a circle. “And here are your rooms.”
He shoved a hand inside his pocket. “These are the passes with your identification number and department on them. They allow you to enter any space for which you are authorized.” After he handed out the passes, he turned off the screen. “I will walk with you the first time so that no one gets lost. The dark can be quite uncomfortable at the beginning.”
We followed him out of the room and were greeted by the icy, cutting wind outside. I looked straight ahead at the wall and could make out a group of people coming our way with helmets in their hands—dressed in black from head to toe. They were covered in dust and had a tired expression on their faces—with one obvious exception.
His uniform was dusty too, but he didn’t look tired. He walked with a firm stride, his back straight and his head held high. Some people took over a space with their mere presence, and this man was one of them.
He was tall, and his black hair had a faint blue hue in the dim light. His skin was a clear golden brown, even though it’d taken on a grayish glow from a lack of sunlight. He had a strong jaw and defined cheekbones, accentuated by trimmed facial hair, and a sensual mouth with the corners curved downwards. Thick, dark lashes and brows surrounded his dark eyes.
Something about him made me instinctively tuck a strand of dark blond hair behind my ear.
General Nikolai Zaregova.
Of course, I had known what he looked like… sort of.
Three years ago, when he had risen to fame and caused a lot of uproar on the continent, all the media had covered him. They’d published his enlistment photo—in which he’d been eighteen years old—in every newspaper. After that, his popularity had skyrocketed. A lot of boys and girls—including students from my program—thought he was incredibly handsome and had constantly speculated about what he would look like now if he looked like that at eighteen. After a second photo of him was released, in which he was standing with a group of soldiers, and you could clearly distinguish his side profile, there had been a lot of speculation. Was he even real? How could a general be so young, attractive, and skilled? Why wasn’t there more information about him?
He almost became a myth, causing even the military to bother issuing a press release stating that General Zaregova was indeed the general of SSU mission 3B. This statement gave them back some control over the situation.
The fuss had subsided a bit after that, as everyone believed the military and no journalist could get close enough to the mission’s base without being stopped. If they even dared.
But now, three years after the press released that first photo into the world, his presence took my breath away. He’d been handsome in those photos, but the pictures were nothing compared to the real man…
I frowned.
This man was so much more.
We had instinctively stopped walking. Everyone on the path had stopped what they were doing and saluted to the General.
As soon as he walked past and nodded, people went back to business.
My brain finally returned to reality, and I realized my arms were still hanging limply at my sides. It was out of character to get distracted like that, so I tore away my gaze from his face and looked towards his shoulder, where the General’s sign was embroidered. His sign differed slightly from the regular four stars you got as a general: his were pierced together by two crossed swords—the swords that were also strapped to his back.
I saluted.
The moment he passed our group, I got an even better look at him. He nodded respectfully. But for a moment, before turning his head back, a pair of dark, inscrutable eyes looked straight into mine.
As he continued walking, I lowered my arm and stared after him in bewilderment.
“He has that effect on everyone,” whispered someone behind me.
Questioningly, I shook my head. What effect?
It wasn’t until a moment later that I realized the group had already moved on, and I had to run—thankfully without anyone noticing—before I caught back up again.
Lots of Love,
Britt
