Jason Mann looked through the stained and pitted glass of the station window at the rows of motionless military vehicles parked outside. The shining skin on smooth teardrop shapes mirrored back a distorted image of the surrounding landscape. Reddish sunlight made the lifeless desert look hostile. Written backward in the reflections the word Inception glared at him. I know what happens in the crucible of war. Will conflict erode me into something as pristine and monumental as the wind sculpted hunks of gigantic rock littering the outskirts of the landing field or will the broken shards of my personality drift forever among the sea of stars?

He tapped the inside of his left forearm. The silver disk strapped there glowed, at best a clumsy crutch. A hologram of his dead father appeared. With it the message he had misunderstood so many times. The words felt like an impossible weight he must swim across a storm-tossed ocean. “People trust you!”  

 Jason took a second to release his breath, then turned and picked up his duffle bag.

“Hey, how did it go out there?” a voice shouted at him from across the lobby.

Jason looked over. It was the station agent he met upon arriving. Mike was his name, and with him was another person immersed in the interface manipulating data. The stranger shot up a hand, waved it about for a second, then went back to his work.

 “Did you find anything?” said Mike, “Last I looked, abandoned gear was strewn about like confetti after a parade. It was a recycling dump and not a city like the survey team thought.”

After long hours in the cramped shuttle, Jason had wanted to go for a run and examine the terrain. There were ruins past the west ridge. He went there to find souvenirs and was lucky. He placed two objects on the table next to the view screen: a ceramic cup and a short oddly shaped metallic rod with grains of sand clinging to it. “Yes, keepsakes even.”

  “Last month when I was out there with my little girl, we found a matching plate,” said the other worker.

 Jason took the hint and carefully handed over the turquoise cup. He stopped smiling at people a long time ago.

“Thanks Captain,” said the man.

Jason was surprised. It was the first time anyone addressed him by his new title since he finished training. I need to stand straighter.

 Mike pointed to his coworker. “I want you to meet Sid, he’s our amateur archaeologist.”

“I dig up some really weird shit,” said Sid. “We got forerunner relics going back eons.”

“The paranormal is ordinary out here,” said Mike.” We keep a lid on it, so not to scare the civilians. It's not ghosts, or voices, or objects floating about. But sometimes you just know things or make correct decisions on a whim.”

“All the refugees living beyond the fringe are nutcases,” said Sid. “Did you talk to the other pilots yet?”

Jason stood there perplexed. “After the hike, I showered and slept. I'll be going out on my first patrol later today.”

“We got a loner. Fine. When you return, listen to the local gossip and get a better feeling for how you should behave,” said Mike.

“Learning to trust your instincts is what it's all about. Nothing magical or supernatural,” said Sid.

Jason picked up the ancient rod. He didn't want to inadvertently break any rules or step on somebody's toes. “I guess it’s a lost key. Any ideas? Are we allowed to scavenge, you know, collect stuff?”

“Even way out here never break the rules, just bend them,” said Mike. He tapped the work screen and the back side, facing Jason, lit up with information. One line was highlighted with transparent yellow.

Jason squinted. There was a picture of his find and a number across from it. “Is 708 its code?”

“So far 708 examples of that item have been found and cataloged in a class of similar objects numbering in the thousands,” said Mike. “But let's do you one better. A while ago a burial mound full of kits was discovered on the south continent. The morning supply drone hasn't left yet. I'll order you a complete box of whatever they are since this is your first real mission, and we want you to have a suitable trophy. I manage logistics and have wide clearance. Let me look at the handle so I can match the logo with the case type.”

Jason watched as Mike began to type at a furious pace assisted by Sid researching the sticking points. Finished, the two men lounged back in their chairs. Jason didn't know how much of this was real. He felt they were hazing him into the unit and assumed it was an initiation prank. Even with only a few hours on the front line, he knew it was different from training camps. There was camaraderie in the air. None of the petty jealousy between washouts and the pilots who flew was evident

“I’m actually a field officer,” said Mick. “We all wear more than one hat.”

“I’ve been assigned to survey new worlds.” said Jason. “No direct action for at least a month.”

“Have a nice vacation,” said Mike, the other clerk nodding his head in agreement.

“When do I meet the base commander?” said Jason.

“Expect a video chat before your departure,” said Mike.  She’s more than competent but has issues with regulations. Wants to play nice with the settlers beyond the fringe and allow two-way traffic rather than enforce the quarantine.”

“Smugglers and rebels every one of them,” said Sid. “The troops are tired of being a border patrol and would like to permanently solve the problem.”

“We all know what happened last time it was tried,” said Jason. They’re sincere but believe in portents and direct action! Bloody mess that was, but out on the frontier there may be no other choice.

Jason shook hands with his new teammates and walked towards the door. He was passing under the lintel when someone whispered from behind him to expect a package. The door closed and he was alone again.

* * *