Opus Veda

Rain spat over the shingle car park, drowning it in muddy water. Sermon huddled under his jacket.

He sighed through his nose. A hungover Kasia shuffled around the corner.

"Well enough to make it to work then... Where the 'ell have you been?"

"Leave it out…" Kasia tugged her hood down, "someone tried to mug me last night..."

"Shit... They get anythin'?"

"Nah," she pulled out a fistful of notes and flapped them, "I got plenty though."

"Heh..." Sermon squinted into the sky, "saw Eva last night. She was askin' for ya."

"She had company."

"She did. She was bawlin' her eyes out on Imi's shoulder. What happened?"

"Did she not say?"

"Not a word."

"No I thought not," Kasia puffed her vape, ignoring Sermon's worried frown.

The van arrived. The other recruits greeted them with solemn smiles. They travelled to Morden base in silence.

The foyer smelt of oily metal. Sappers were pulling rifles from crates and inspecting them. Guardsmen rolled shields off a rack, stencilling Revolution Britannia's symbol over their surfaces. An anvil-sized battery charged truncheons and tasers. Scrawny technicians tinkered with the exposed bodies of drones.

The recruits lined up. The sergeant major waded towards them. His anger faded into sincerity.

"It should be clear to you by now Corporal Luca Rossi is dead."

Sermon sniffed sharply, clenching his whole body to stay composed. Pierce acknowledged it and carried on.

"27 more of us died avenging him. I regret his death with the sombre knowledge he will not be the last. We mourn and move on, and you will do right by him.

We have proven the terrorists can be beaten. But tactical victory is only the delay of strategic defeat. We need to keep our momentum; the moment we get another lead on the Blacks we're going for it, so now's the time to pull yourselves together and earn your place."

Kasia's chest ached with the same pain she felt last night. Contempt. After everything she'd done, she still had to earn her place. The lack of recognition was beginning to bore her.

"I have a question Sarnt."

Pierce lifted his head, eyeing Kasia from under his helmet.

"Quickly girl."

"We still haven't been paid for our last assignment."

Kasia felt her teammates shiver. Pierce kept deathly still.

"You're asking about money at a time like this."

"Well… yea… sorry…" Kasia hated discussing money, but she needed to, "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't to survive."

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"And what makes your survival worth my time when I have a war to mobilise for?"

He lumbered forward. Kasia made herself stand firm.

"Because I recovered the package and brought it back under fire. I want to do so again; I can't if I can't eat."

Pierce's immense bulk leaned over her, inches away. He sniffed the side of her head.

"You stink of fruit. Have you been vaping girl? Alcohol too…" his nostrils flared, his head flicked over Kasia's and bellowed.

"Soldiers! Revolutionaries! Listen to your sergeant!"

The whole foyer stopped. A wave of sweat chilled Kasia's body. Pierce pointed her out.

"Look at this recruit! As you and I fought terrorists, Kasia here was out on the lash! She's rocked up today, hungover and fruited up, asking where her paycheck is!"

The room erupted with jeering. Heads shook. Sexist slurs and moralising dismissals snapped at her like stray gunfire. Kasia could smell her own fear.

She had to get paid. It was the fundamental reason for every miserable experience since her first school year. If the money wasn't delivered, life's contract broke down. She pictured the screaming Veda's mask, the stabbed American Nazi, the warmth in Leah's eyes when they agreed to meet.

Pierce needed to be managed.

"I'm sorry Sarnt, I know it's bad to ask but… I do need to get paid for what I do."

"Is that so? I wonder, is it time for you to move on? A special job for Kasia the slasher?" Pierce gazed up to the mezzanine, "so be it."

Guardsmen dumped her in a hallway between a dead plant and a cobwebbed printer. She watched her team file away, saw Sermon's ashamed eyes.

Ashamed of her.

Her legs ached. A chair across the hallway tempted her. She didn't dare take it. Pierce stomped upstairs, joined by a bony faced woman in khaki dress uniform. A tablet hung under her arm like a command baton; poking out of it, a slim envelope. She checked Kasia over, stern and unimpressed. Pierce motioned to the rank on her brassard.

"Captain Varma's adjutant: Leftenant Pardo. Count yourself lucky she's made time for you."

"Thank you Sarnt," Kasia was unsure if she should salute. Nobody had told her how. She lowered her head the Chinese way, showing deference.

"The sergeant major wants to kick you out Szymanska," Pardo spoke in a bored voice, "thanks to me, and this envelope, you have a chance to cling on."

"Thank you… Sir…" Kasia cringed. Pardo cocked her head.

"Do I look like a Queer Theorist to you Szymanska? It's M'am."

"Apologies M'am."

"What did training tell you about winning wars, Szymanska?"

"They are won with logistics, M'am."

"I need soldiers thinking about the battle, I need agents thinking about the fluff around it. Fixing supply lines, connecting informants, gathering intel on places and people. You strike me as an agent, someone who can duck and dive through London using her own initiative. Do you understand me?"

"I do M'am."

The lieutenant handed her the envelope. Kasia studied it, feeling a square lump.

"Inside this is a USB stick," Pardo tapped it, "do you know what that is?"

"I'm sorry M'am I do not."

"Don't touch it. The recipient will know if you have and you'll pay in more ways than one. The device is not immediately dangerous, everything else is irrelevant to you."

"I will not touch it M'am."

Pardo gave Pierce a thin smile. He addressed Kasia.

"You'll be working solo for now girl. You will regain our trust and do Luca proud."

"I will get to it. Thank you Sarnt."

He sighed, "where's the envelope being delivered then?"

"I-" Kasia stuttered as the lieutenant left grinning. Pierce gave Kasia the directions, made her repeat them, before flicking his head up to consider her.

"Canary Wharf! The oligarch's playground. Subtlety required. Straight into the building, straight out, no sight-seeing. You will not fit in to a place like the Wharf."

"Nor do I intend to Sarnt."

Pierce almost smiled, almost nodded.

"Anything else, slasher?"

Kasia breathed in, "the money for the last job, Sarnt."

The almost-smile vanished.

"You'll get it later. Is that what we're all here for? Dying on wards to pave your career path?"

Kasia's face twitched.

"In part you are. I am not a volunteer."

They both stiffened, locked in a power struggle.

Pierce shifted his head to the stairs.

"Get to it then."