Mess Hall, Rooivalk Military Bunker,

African Continent

"Sergeant Jinx!"

Jinx choked as her throat tightened around a mouthful of stew. She chugged down the mug of water beside her bowl, dislodging the partially dissolved potato. Rising, she saluted.

Major Matthews appeared at her side. "General Standers asked for you." He gave her a disapproving once-over before striding away. "Hustle!"

She abandoned her meal and followed Matthews from the mess hall. She glanced back at the table she'd been sitting at. It was empty now — Pearce had never arrived for dinner.

Matthews marched her through Rooivalk's subterranean military compound. Rooivalk lay buried a hundred meters below ground level. Military bunkers surrounded the central civilian warren like a fort. The official story was it had been recommissioned from an operational military base.

Jinx had called the base her home for the last four years, but the major led her through so many restricted areas that she would be unable to find her way back to the mess hall unaided.

There was zero scenery en-route. Each subsequent corridor was more stark and utilitarian than the last. Some of the earthen walls were bare of plaster. They trekked through stretches of darkness where blown light bulbs hadn't been replaced; the only thing in Rooivalk scarcer than light bulbs was ammunition. Rooivalk had an armoury, but the copper and lead needed for production of quality ammunition was hard to find. Things became trickier still — new soldiers were issued with relics for weapons, all more than three hundred years old. The armourers did the best they could, but most soldiers tended to aim for the broadest part of an enemy— this increased the chance of actually hitting them.

Jinx and Matthews arrived at a set of metal doors. Their approach was met with disinterest by the two guards — privates she didn't recognise. Matthews rapped twice on the door with his knuckle before entering. Inside, six light bulbs burned: four strung from the ceiling, two attached to opposing walls. The room was plastered in pristine white.

The effect was blinding.

Matthews announced her. "Sergeant Jinx, General."

General Standers stood by the far wall, studying a map tacked to the plaster. A naked light bulb lit the colossal map. The rest of the room contained a wide desk, a smaller table with four chairs clustered around it, and a dusty-looking filing cabinet in a far corner. The floor was concrete and the walls plastered earth.

The general turned to watch her enter, beckoning her with a flick of his hand when she hesitated. She stopped a few meters from him and saluted, keeping her shoulders pushed back and her spine straight. The general hated slouchers.

"At ease," Standers said.

Jinx's body slipped into a wide-legged stance, hands gripped behind her back. With her eyes fixed to the map, her peripheral vision caught Standers examining her. Finished with his inspection, he turned to look at the map. Wildebeest, Rooivalk, and Hyena were marked, faint lines tracing scouting routes between the three colonies. Surrounding ridges and crevasses had been mapped, as well as arable soil and the closest bodies of water.

"What's in Wildebeest for you, Sergeant?"

Jinx snapped her eyes away from the map. She'd been staring at Wildebeest. En route, Jinx had been wording responses to this inevitable question. What, if anything, had Vanbuuren told the man? How much truth should she scatter between the lies?

The general stepped toward her, cocking his head as he waited for her answer.

She licked her lips and swallowed.

"Well?" he prompted, eyebrows lifting.

"I'm... looking for someone," she ventured. The gaping silence begged to be filled. She added, "A man." And then, when Standers simply stared, ended with, "I have reason to believe he's at Wildebeest."

"One of ours?"

"Yes." She remembered Vanbuuren's words. "I think."

"Do you at least know his name?" The general stepped forward. "Elaborate," he commanded in his deep voice.

He was older than Vanbuuren by a good few years, but time had done nothing to weaken him. Jinx stood a head taller than him. He gazed up at her with a keen interest, his eyes narrowing when she remained silent.

"Neels Zachman," she said.

All expression left the general's face. He knew the name. Who the hell was Neels Zachman?

"Why?" the general prompted.

Jinx cleared her throat as she casted her mind back, trying to remember her hurriedly prepared script.

"He was on guard the night my mother... the night she was—" Jinx paused and drew a hurried breath "—when she arrived at Rooivalk."

"You're trying to find her?"

"No." Jinx struggled now with the same words that rattled through her mind every night.

"Explain yourself, Sergeant."

"He... might have seen who left her at the gates."

His eyebrows lifted. "Left her?"

Jinx swallowed again and glanced away from his unnerving stare. Her heart hammered in her chest. She had to tell him. Despite Vanbuuren's command, she had to tell him. She was uncomfortably aware of Matthews standing out of sight behind her. He would know too, after this. Would it matter? Her chest felt too tight. Jinx drew a long, laboured breath before reaching a decision.

"Sergeant?" Standers stared at her, green eyes blazing, his mouth a tight line.

She expelled the sour-tasting words in a torrid gush. "My mother was abandoned at Rooivalk's gate when she was pregnant with me. In labour with me. She died that night. I survived. Barely. I need to find the man that... the person that left her there... to... that left us there to die."

"The guard knows who?"

"Yes."

"Your father?"

Jinx couldn't breathe, let alone respond, so she nodded.

"Is he from Wildebeest?"

Jinx looked away, eyes fixing to the map. Why did it have to come to this? Why did it matter? She was from Rooivalk. Didn't that count for anything? She'd served in Rooivalk's military for four years. Surely that proved she was a Rooivalk man. Well, woman. She winced as her teeth caught her bottom lip. It was still tender from her earlier abuse.

"Sergeant?"

"I don't know!" The words escaped her mouth in a bark, and she shut her eyes, expecting a reprimand. Nothing came. When she opened them, Standers stood calmly with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I will consider allowing you to go."

"I'm a Rooivalk, through and through! It shouldn't matter who the hell my father—" Jinx stopped, her mind signalling frantically at her. "What?"

Muscles moved in the general's face. An almost smile. "I will consider it."

She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep, warm breath. Finally, she would get her answers. That shadowed face, the one that had tormented her for her entire life, would be revealed.

"Thank you, sir."

Standers went to the desk. A decanter rested on the table. The general poured a shot of the amber liquid into one of three glasses beside it.

"You can thank me when I've reached a decision," he said, staring up at a nearby light.

The general inhaled sharply. He swung around and drained his glass in a single swallow. His gaze slid over her shoulder and he flicked his hand. She heard the door open and twisted her head, her eyes widening as Matthews left the room.

Jinx's stomach grew cold as the general stepped closer. She averted her eyes, staring at the map while her pulse throbbed in her throat. Standers seized her long, dark braid. He drew it over her shoulder and jerked, bringing her head down to eye level. An ephemeral smile touched his lips. Standers used his other hand to tug her hair tie free and drop it on the floor. Jinx tried lifting her head, but the grip tightened, holding her in place.

The instinct to rear back and plant a fist in the general's sternum was distant, numbed with shock. Jinx could only stare, her mouth gaping.

"You see, Sergeant," he said, his fingers parting the twists of her braid. "I require someone with a very particular skill set."

Jinx had stopped breathing. Her eyes fixed on his hand as he unwound her hair. His fingers climbed the unravelling braid, reaching her scalp. A quick tug threw her head back. She reared backward as hair cascaded down her shoulders. Standers caught her neck and hauled her closer.

His green eyes held no mirth. She could smell alcohol on his breath as he spoke.

"I'm sure you'll do. If you can keep your head, that is."

The general's fingers dug into the muscles running alongside her spine. He studied her features, his gaze flickering to her hair, her lips, her neck, settling, finally, on her hair. Her breath returned, scorching her throat as she struggled to contain her fearful panting. Acid churned up as her stomach twisted in on itself.

"Sir, please—" She despised the whimper she could hear in her voice.

"Is discovering the identity of your father not important, Sergeant Jinx?"

Ah. So it had come down to this, then. Worried she would be thrown out of the military because of dodgy origins, when in truth she should have been worried about a more immediate threat.

Standers wasn't looking at her anymore. His gaze focused intently on her hair as he twisted it in the light. Jinx glanced between his eyes. Why the hell was he so fixated on her hair?

Jinx shut her eyes. In the darkness, she tried to envision herself somewhere else. A different world. The general's free hand dove into her hair, caressing it, drawing it over her shoulder, smoothing it between his fingers. Jinx's mouth trembled. She bit her bottom lip, welcoming the stab of pain. It was always fleeting. She knew how to deal with pain. This, not so much.

Her eyes opened.

"Let's get this over with." Her voice was surprisingly steady.

The general's breath stirred on her cheeks as the hand holding her neck slid around to her throat.

"Time is never on our side," he said.

Was he just going to keep toying with her?

"Just tell me what to do," Jinx muttered.

His fingers tightened until her breath caught. "I need you to retrieve something for me."

"What?" she managed, her head spinning. Had she just heard right? "You want me to... get something?"

"It will be well guarded," he murmured.

He loosened his grip. His thumb traced the contour of her jaw. Her heart thudded as he tugged a section of her hair forward, letting it rest against her cheek. "Most likely hidden in the Leider's private chambers. You would have to use whatever talents you possess to get inside and extricate it."

"Talents?" she managed.

"Yes, Sergeant. Use force, your feminine wiles, an invisibility cloak, I don't care. From what I understand, the new Leider is rather fond of women. I would recommend leveraging whatever assets you may possess."

"I... I can do that," she ventured in a shaking voice.

His attention snapped back to her eyes. "That wasn't very convincing." One eyebrow lifted in challenge.

"I can do it. I will do it," she said, forcing firmness into her words. His eyes flickered over her face. Standers released her and stepped back. He shook his head, snorting.

"I seem to have selected the wrong candidate."

"But sir—"

"Enough, Sergeant. You are dismissed."

The general turned away. His gaze returned to the map as a furrow creased his brow. Her skin was too tight. It constricted her, made her breathing shallow. The one chance she had was slipping away, dissolving into nothing.

Jinx gripped the man's shoulder.

He made an angry sound as she pulled him around. Standers stared at her, his chest rising as he no doubt drew breath for a heated tongue-lashing.

"I have to go," Jinx breathed.

She lunged forward and kissed him.

Standers tensed at her assault. His hands closed around her biceps. He tried pushing her back, but she slammed her body against his, forcing them both into the table. The heavy desk skidded back a few centimeters, its legs scraping on the concrete floor. The glasses clattered on their metal tray and whiskey sloshed inside the decanter.

The fingers around her arms squeezed. The general's body tensed as he leaned into their kiss. Jinx slid her hands behind his neck and gripped him, forcing her tongue between his teeth. She tasted whiskey in his mouth as his stubble scraped her lips.

Standers tore away from her.

He drew a breath and glared. "How old are you?" he snapped.

Jinx recoiled from him. Her reply emerged strangled. "Twenty six."

A hot, leaden wave of mortification rolled over her. She flushed crimson as she replayed the last few seconds of her life.

"I know what's on your enlistment form." Standers released her and stepped to the side, one hand pressed to the table. "That's not what I'm asking."

Jinx stared at him with wide eyes, embarrassment dissolving into guilt, uncertainty wheedling through everything — it was a heady cocktail.

"Twenty-two, General."

"Vanbuuren issued your recruitment papers." General Standers drew his hand over his mouth in a solemn gesture.

She took a step back, forcing her legs to halt in the act of fleeing.

"Yes, sir," she said, knowing it was a rhetorical question, but feeling compelled to answer.

"And he supported your lie?"

"He... doesn't know, sir." Standers poured himself another shot of whiskey, draining it in a quick swallow.

"Why did Vanbuuren enlist you, Sergeant? We only allow women to enlist in exceptional circumstances."

"I don't think he noticed, sir."

"I highly doubt that, Sergeant," General Standers replied dryly.

"Then I'm pretty damn exceptional, sir."

The man's eyebrow rose. "You're pretty damn cocky for someone without a dick."

Her eyes flicked to the ceiling as she took a deep, calming breath. Keep a cool head, Jinx. Standers returned the empty glass to the tray and leaned back against the table, arms crossed over his chest. When the silence became unbearable, she pushed her shoulders back, meeting his iron-hard stare with one of her own.

"What's this thing I have to get for you?" Good, her voice was firm again.

He studied her with an unreadable expression. "It's a box."

"A... box?"

"It should be very well hidden, possibly guarded. Most likely in the Leider's private chambers."

"A box," she repeated.

"Yes, Sergeant. A box. A rather small, insignificant looking box," Standers snapped. "That is your mission. You are to return to Rooivalk as soon as you have it in your possession."

"What does this box look like?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

"A box," she said, but under her breath. Unbelievable. He was staring at her again. She nodded once. "I will bring you your box, General."

"Good. You will be briefed before you leave."

She scooped up a hair tie from the floor and bit it between her teeth while her fingers worked her hair back into a braid. Her eyes skittered over the floor, searching for the other tie.

"Yes, sir," she replied, her words muffled.

"You will not speak a word of this to anyone."

"No, sir."

"Especially Vanbuuren."

Jinx nodded.

"Do I make myself clear, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Leave your hair," he snapped.

The trembling hand working at her braid jerked, dropping to her side as he strode toward her. He tugged the tie from her teeth, staring into her eyes as he tucked it into the breast pocket of her uniform.

Steady fingers undid the first three buttons of her fatigues, exposing her vest and the slopes of her breasts. He tugged her vest free from her belt. Narrowed eyes darted up to her.

"Don't make me regret this, Sergeant." When she remained standing in frozen horror, he gestured to the door with a flick of his hand. "You are dismissed."

Jinx spun around, reaching the door in five long strides.

"One last thing, Sergeant."

Damp with sweat, her palm slid from the door handle. She peered back over her shoulder at Standers, her body tensing.

"Sir?" she managed.

"I need you to relay a message to Vanbuuren."

"Yes, sir?"

"He should be at the Dorphuis watchhouse at twenty-three hundred hours tonight."

"What's the message, sir?"

"Tell him to bring the mampoer."

"The... mampoer?"

"Yes." Standers raised his eyebrows at her and glanced at the door.

Jinx sidled out of the room, her hand diving into her pocket to retrieve her hair tie. One of the privates turned to her as she exited, a smirk tugging at his face.

Glowering at him, she pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail, nearly walking into Major Matthews as he materialised from the shadows. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders as she snapped off a salute, tie caught between her teeth. One of the privates snickered.

"Hustle, Jinx," Matthews barked.

The major turned on his heel, leading the way down the corridor. Her fingers worked furiously at her braid as Matthews led her back to the barracks.

What the hell kind of a code was 'bring the mampoer'? 

. . .