Page 59 of Alpha Awakened

Alone in his room, Ice opened the envelope. He’d recognized both the stationary and the handwriting on it right away. He used to receive similar letters all the time when he was a kid away at military school.

Inside the envelope, there was a single sheet of paper. A familiar header was printed across the top in bold, dark font. From the office of Major General Bradford Walsh. And beneath that, a short message in tight, precise cursive.

Hello, Royce. I will be at Fort Grove this Wednesday. If you’re not engaged, let’s have lunch in the officers’ dining hall at noon. Major General Walsh.

Ice refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Unless a mission came up within the next forty-eight hours, he’d be available to dine with the general. He went to the closet and took out his service uniform to give it a fresh press.

* * *

October 14, 1982

12:00

US Legion Base - Fort Grove

Broken Arrow, Oklahoma

On Thursday afternoon at five minutes to noon, Ice walked into the officer’s dining room. It was a much nicer room than the main mess hall with its linoleum floors and bright fluorescent lighting. Here, the walls were covered in cherry wood paneling, the lighting was a mix of natural sunlight coming in from thewindows and brass light fixtures overhead, and there was a dark patterned carpet on the floors.

“I’m meeting Major General Walsh,” Ice said to the young soldier working as the dining room host.

“He’s reserved a table for you, Captain Anderson. Right this way.”

The host grabbed two menus and lead the way to a table. It was one of the best in the house, away from the kitchen entrance and the bathrooms, and near a window with a view over the bustling training grounds.

Ice sat down. He left the menu closed, waiting for his dining companion’s arrival. The general was always prompt, so he would be there soon. After a few moments, he noticed he was drumming his fingers on the table. He deliberately stopped the restless movement, folding his hands together atop the closed menu.

He knew the reason for his agitation. It was rare that he was in public without his mask or balaclava. Doing so now left him feeling unpleasantly exposed. Unfortunately, it would be unacceptable to have lunch with the general while wearing them, so he would have to deal.

At the sound of footsteps nearing his table, Ice looked over his shoulder. The general approached. He too was in his service uniform. His hat was tucked under his arm, leaving his thick, silver hair to shine under the dining room’s warm lighting. Except for the deepening squint lines around the eyes, the general looked the same as the last time Ice had seen him. Walsh was Caucasian, with a ruddy complexion and piercing blue eyes. He was tall, only a few inches shorter than Ice, and his uniform fit his lean build well.

Ice stood and saluted him. “Good afternoon, General Walsh.”

“Royce. It’s good to see you, son,” the general said with a smile.

The two of them shook hands.

“It’s good to see you, too, sir.”

Their greetings complete, Ice waited for his mentor to sit then resettled in his chair.

“How’s life in the 448?” Walsh asked.

“It’s going well.”

“I admit I was skeptical when I heard it was an all-shifter unit. With all of you living together no less. But I hear Major Ortiz is an excellent leader and your team is doing good work. And you have a high success rate on all missions.”

“Yes, sir. We are getting things done.”

“And you still look sharp.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The server arrived at their table, pleasantly greeting them both. He set two glasses of ice water topped with lemon slices down. They paused their conversation to place their orders. Walsh ordered the baked chicken and Ice the beef and vegetables. The server promised their meals would be out soon, took their menus, and left to put in their orders.

Walsh took a sip of his lemon water. “Your father would be proud of the soldier you’ve become,” he said as he set the glass back on the table.

“I hope so.”