Thermal Lake
half a klick from Camp

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"NOW THAT'S what I call a hot tub!" A bright-eyed woman cheered, far more enthusiastic than Lale felt — but even he felt his spirits lifting at the sight of the steaming water at the bottom of a cascading waterfall.

"It's something like a thermal vent," Bradley explained, as the other recruits approached and shared their own excitement. "Up there," Bradley pointed to where the waterfall's steady stream fell from, "there's a whole pond dedicated to catching fish and even more jungle." He glanced at Lale, his light eyes amused. "I'll be teaching you all how to hunt and fish later on."

But it was clear that no one was listening anymore. The recruits began to strip, taking off their stained and sweaty suits and revealing even more stained and sweaty underclothes. Lale joined them, slipping into the crystal clear water and feeling the warmth of it seep into his muscles and untie the knot of concern bundled in his chest.

He took in a deep gulp of heated air, then ducked under water. Bubbles escaped his lips and Lale floated on his back, eyes open and staring into the sunlight streaming down onto the water's surface.

Amelia's fine, he reassured himself, as thoughts of the curly-haired girl once again resurfaced in his mind's eye. Frustration that he was still fretting over her would have heated his face if the water hadn't been warm enough to roast him already, and Lale took to the surface once again.

Bradley was standing with pursed lips on the shore, and it suddenly dawned on Lale that he had never asked his friend how safe the water was. Crocodiles? Alligators? Some other hellish abomination? Like Bradley had read his suddenly alarmed thoughts, the man raised an eyebrow.

"Water's too clear for any crocs, and too shallow for any other dinosaurs." Bradley shrugged, and Lale could see the hint of a smirk curling his lips. "Chill. I wouldn't bring you all here to get eaten."

Then why aren't you 'chilling' yourself? Lale wanted to retort. But the truth was, he himself was not chilling. At all.

While the other recruits splashed around or chatted, the marine swam to the bank and swiped back his hair, using the moment to figure out why some of the marines who stood beyond Bradley had volt-guns.

While his friend stood smugly, like he had made the lake appear himself, the men and women behind him had their hands tight on the electrical weapons. Lale counted eight, then returned to the water as smoothly as he could. A very bad feeling was clinging to the pit of his gut like a leech; beside from himself, Bradley, and those eight other marines, he saw only two other soldiers chatting with the Learners.

Where are the other marines? Lale ducked under the surface again, almost feeling like a sitting duck. Something niggled at the back of his memory — something important about the lunches the ERAA recruits all had together after JEE or training or whatever.

But why would that be important? He wanted to dig his hands into his scalp in frustration. More than four months in a comatose-like state of swirling atoms had taken its toll, but Lale remembered enough to tell himself that something was wrong with what was happening.

The marines who didn't come could just be bad at general hygiene ... or the marines who have the volt-guns are charging them with solar power ... all his anxious rebukes fell flat. Around sixteen Learners who were defenseless cornered against a waterfall. Nine marines who stayed behind.

Eight marines charging their guns to fire.

Amelia! The realization of what they faced — A genocide! — slugged him in the gut as he took to the surface, lungs too empty of air to scream a warning. Lightning burst over his head, and he smelled the curling scent of burnt hair.

Screams slammed him like a sledgehammer as he took to action, not even glancing at the marines who he knew were advancing on them with their weapons. He cut across the lake with powerful freestyle strokes towards where the other Learners and marines had been frolicking seconds before.

More bolts of energy jagged across the surface of the water and licked at him as he pushed the person closest to him to the opposite edge of the lake, where the vegetation was more dense. Lale's eyes burned with the water's heat.

"Everyone run!"

Lale had no time for thoughts as he took his own advice, grabbing hold of two of the closest Learners and pulling them along with him as he shepherded everyone to the bulrushes. The screams didn't let up, and neither did the shots fired. A splash beside him, and the limp body that had caused it, only urged him forward as he pushed himself out of the thigh-height water.

Heart throbbing in his chest, thoughts almost as electric as the fatal charges that chased after them, flashes of terrified thoughts did nothing to keep him calm. He was anything but calm.

Rage sharpened and lashed in his chest like a viper, threatening to crush his heart. Fear made Lale surge forward, forcing the others into the small channel of far colder water. Thick reeds slashed cuts across his cheeks, and he shut his eyes against the poking ends. The blood he could feel welling acted as the tears he had no time to release — he had been betrayed.

The very men and women he had trained with for so long; trying to kill him.

"Get down low," he ordered, looking back and forth between the enemy marines who had diverted from their path to capture them. Bradley was nowhere to be seen, and Lale's heart (which he couldn't have imagined tightening any further) squashed thin and small like a grain of rice.

Amelia ... Bradley ... Where are they?

The answer came almost immediately, and he tightened his fists as he pushed back the reeds to make space for the terrified Learners and marines. With Ichabod. I was such a fool! How could I have trusted him, even for a moment?

Maybe the others saw it on his face to keep quiet. Either way, their cries softened, though some had their hands over their mouths to subdue their sobs. Lale followed them quickly down the channel, pushing himself through the shallow, freezing water.

They left the waterfall behind and moved quickly into the marsh. Maybe they gave up, Lale allowed himself to hope, after a few minutes of them bobbing through the murk. Sniffles were replaced by chattering teeth, but it was like Lale himself felt nothing more than dread.

Or maybe they're dead.

"Stop!" Someone yelled from outside the reeds. It sounded like Xeon, and Lale could hear the smirk in his voice. He tightened his fists, wondering why he had ever associated himself with the walking meat-head who was trying to kill him now too.

"Or else your friend dies."

The others around him broke out into uncertain whispers, and the sound of a volt-gun's charge being fired was as alarming as dousing him with cold water; which had, actually, already been done with the quick change from warm to cold (rather freezing) water.

Lale peeked over the reeds, clambering to the bank on his elbows. Bradley was writhing in Xeon's grip, looking a little dazed. He swallowed down his anger to try and think.

"We don't want to hurt you," Xeon crooned. "Join us and don't get killed. Simple as that." The marine held the volt-gun's end dangerously close to Bradley's forearm, threatening Lale's heart into overdrive.

"Don't listen to him," he told the Learners and marines around him, feeling his frustration heat his words. "They're trying to draw us out." That, he was sure of.

Lale turned back to Xeon, just about to open his mouth as his chest deflated with the scrambling realization he had come to. He had to go.

I can't let Bradley die. Not another person ... dead ... because of me.

The thought of Fereldson only strengthened his resolution, but before he could move an inch, Bradley released a scream of an order that was followed by a zap and smell of ozone.

"Don't listen to him, Lale! Get them to safety! Don't worry about me —"

Something twisted inside of Lale as he heard the sound of a body collapsing against the earth. He dropped his head onto his wrists and stifled the small cry of despair his friend hadn't had time to make, the murderous vengeance that wanted him to leap up and throttle Xeon pushing against his muscles and straining his prone form to take action.

The traitors moved on with chuckles and mocking electrical pot shots, leaving Lale and those around him to die as the creatures of the Jurassic crept in, and the optimism Lale had held at arm's length for the mission vanished.

Cold anger replaced it. As everyone either cried or stared on blankly, Lale twisted to face them with his hands tensed and a vow echoing in his heart, which felt torn and sluggish even as fear tightened his jaw.

I'd rather die before anyone else does so for me. But first Ichabod must pay.

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as Ichabod's dirty work is carried out, what lies in store for Amelia and Lale? and how will they survive?