The Corps paid for you | Lights Out – Military SciFi #MilSF #MFRWhooks

In Lights Out, joining the Ghost Corps sounded simple enough. Die for humanity. Come back stronger. Fight immortals who refused to stay dead. They forgot to mention the Terms and Conditions.

Dying in battle should earn a soldier a medal.

In the Corps, it earns a lecture, a financial audit, and a reminder that your continued existence belongs to somebody else.

From Lights Out

Healed and at attention, Tornahdo endured a tongue-lashing by no less than the Ghost Corps Colonial Armada Commandant General. What a mouthful for such a tiny person. Why a general was chewing out a master sergeant escaped him.

If a general had thousands to command, why was she slapping around a master sergeant? In the regular army, they'd berated him at the lowest level of incompetence. And what was his sin? Getting killed in battle. If you came back to life, why was that wrong?

Plus, if a soldier sacrificed himself saving a platoon, you didn't write him up. You bestowed a medal.

Treat the regular army like this and that whole death-and-rebirth thing was never going to catch on.

While the general droned on about the expense of rebirths and the protocol for ghosts, Tornahdo counted bullet holes in the fence outside the window. Sixty plus on one panel. Wasted firepower. Probably a human.

Ultras tended not to miss.

"Are you listening to me, Master Sergeant?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Repeat what I said."

Tornahdo spat it back.

Clasping hands behind her, the general paced. "You were inducted into the Corps and promoted because you had the highest rating from a commanding officer I'd ever seen in the regular army. Now that I've reviewed your record, I'm wondering if he inflated your value to get you out of his unit. You've been written up for insubordination three times. What is your problem with authority?"

"Ma'am, I have no problem with authority." Imbeciles, yes, but that was another story.

"The death and rebirth of a ghost means the salvation of human kind. Isn't that why you enlisted?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"The purloined blood of an Ultra runs in your veins. Do not take it for granted. It costs the Corps a fortune. Do not forget."

Not likely. The Corps reminded him daily.

The word purloined hadn't been used in his hearing before. Now that he thought about it, how did they get the Ultra blood infusing his body? Were captives volunteering?

Surely not. Their hatred of humanity was legendary.

What did it matter? Ultras were the enemy. They deserved no mercy.

"Master Sergeant, you made us all proud by your service. You volunteered for the Corps and your commanding officer recommended you at the perfect time. Three Ultras were captured during the Raid on San Xavier. Ultras you helped take out of the war. Your death at the retaliatory Siege of San Xavier meant you had a chance to fulfill your promise to serve."

"Thank you...?" Why was she telling him what he already knew? "…Ma'am."

"The Corps will not forget your service, or the promise made to support your family." Coming to a stop before him, she bared her teeth in a deceptive, political smile. "Counting you as missing in action means long-term benefits for your loved ones. Wouldn't it be a shame if your body was found and that ended?"

The usual heat of Ultra blood beneath his skin plummeted. Tornahdo remained aloof and calm, as if he faced a firing squad. A good soldier never forgot a threat.

"The Corps spent far too much to toss you out and start over. But be aware, that indulgence extends only so far." The general stuck her face in his. "Are we clear?"

As brittle ice on a bottomless lake in deep winter.

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