Origins by Jamie Sawyer

be, after this experience? I couldn’t say.
    â€œI’m glad to be off that frozen shitball,”’Ski said.
    Jenkins nudged him in the ribs; playfully, delicately. “You’ve had enough of being behind bars, eh?”
    â€œThat was nothing like Queens,” he said.
    I noticed that Kaminski involuntarily put a hand to his head, rubbing the nerve-staples, as he spoke. Although the flesh around the studs was mostly healed, the surgery looked harsh and brutal: as though conducted by a backstreet medico.
    â€œMilitary Intelligence will have a lot of questions for you,” I said, “when we get to Calico Base.”
    â€œIs that where we’re going?” he asked.
    â€œThose are our orders.”
    Jenkins shook her head. “I expect that Command will approve you some downtime, ’Ski. Maybe you can go to Fortuna for a few weeks, if not longer.”
    â€™Ski laughed. “I don’t need downtime, Jenkins. I need a decent drink and a simulator-tank.”
    â€œI’m sure that you’ll be recertified in good time,” said Jenkins.
    Fortuna was a pleasure world, but it was also light-years from the frontline. If Kaminski went there, his posting with the Lazarus Legion would be over, and the time-dilation would surely end any relationship he had with Jenkins.
    â€œHave you told him about the
Point
?” I asked her.
    She nodded. “I’ve told him everything: the
Point
, the Warfighters, the Krell…”
    Although ’Ski had only been gone for a few months so much had happened. He would have to be formally briefed on the situation if he was ever going to get back to active deployment.
    â€œDamned fish heads,” Kaminski said, with some fervour. “The
Point
was home. Un-fucking-believable.”
    â€œYou better believe it,” I said. “The Krell have made it as far as Barnard’s Star.”
    â€œYou’re shitting me?”
    â€œI shit you not. They’re spilling out of their tank and they’ve already taken a dozen systems on the border.”
    â€œThen we need to get out there and do what the Legion does.”
    â€œEasy, trooper,” Jenkins said. “Take your time. The Krell can wait.”
    The truth was that the Krell could not wait, and Jenkins knew it. The situation along the Maelstrom border was dire, and it had taken all of my clout as a lieutenant colonel – as Lazarus – to resource the operation into Directorate territory. We were running low on everything; even simulants, the most basic of commodities required to keep the Sim Ops Programme going. I didn’t tell Kaminski, but one of the territories just ceded to the Krell had been a farm: a geno-facility dedicated to harvesting sims.
    â€œWhy were they down there?” I asked. “The Krell, I mean.”
    â€œIt’s too early for a debrief—” Jenkins protested, protectively.
    â€œIt’s okay, girl,” Kaminski said. “I’d rather tell the Legion what happened before the MI.” He gave a sharp intake of breath, started the story. “After we bailed out, the Krell turned up. We – Saul and I – saw the
Colossus
going through the Rift, then everything was chaos. The evac-pod didn’t have scopes or sensors, and next thing we knew the Directorate had picked us up. They weren’t in much better shape. There were lots of survivors in near-space – lots of crew evac’d their ships – and the Directorate took them all. And not just human crew: Krell too. We saw some of them aboard a Directorate ship. That’s how they must’ve gotten to Capa.”
    â€œBut what did the Directorate want with the Krell?”
    â€œThey never told me,” Kaminski said. “But I’d guess the same as us: intelligence. After they captured us, they put us in the freezers. I woke up on Capa.” He rubbed his head again, the nerve-staples there. “They knew who I was, and they