Chapter 2 – Origins
13-year-old Squire Tanner shoulders his bag and hurries out of the classroom as the last echoes of the afternoon alarm die out. Making his way down the wide, expansive corridor, he's soon joined by two other boys of the Ghost Academy – Squires Tinker and Tomlin.
"How was weaponry, Tink?" Tanner grins.
"Okay, I guess." Tinker isn't giving much away.
Tomlin screws up his face. "Okay?! He shot Knight-Sergeant Fryer again." He bursts out laughing and Tanner joins in.
"It's bullshit, anyway. Fryer makes me do all the demos just 'cos I'm a Pyro. It's not fair." Tinker mumbles.
Tanner punches his friend's shoulder good-naturedly. "Don't sweat it Tink, three more months and you can kiss those guns goodbye." He lowers his voice and murmurs to Tomlin. "It's not like we're supposed to be soldiers or anything."
Tomlin suppresses a chuckle.
The three round a corner and the corridor quickly gets more crowded, becoming a heaving mass of Squires as they near the canteen. All are clad in grey uniforms and most bear the green shoulder stripes of Squadron Tango like Tanner and his friends, but some older ones wear the blue of Sierra and a couple the purple of Romeo. The latter are increasingly scarce since the previous deployment had happened several months earlier than anticipated, but the Initiates that hadn't completed their training in time were still being signed off and accommodated into Lancer battalions.
"So, what's the plan tonight?" Tinker asks as they take their places in the queue.
"Crunchball finals." Tomlin says firmly. "All the Romeo girls will be there, Tez told me." Squire 'Tez' Terrence was a trusted source in these matters, although how he came to be in possession of such information was up for debate.
"Can't miss a chance to see your Rrrrrrrrachel, eh?" Tinker rolls the 'R' enthusiastically.
"Ooooo, Rrrrrachel!" Tanner imitates Tomlin, grinning.
"Hate me 'cos you ain't me." Tomlin retorts. "You're sore you don't have my smooth moves."
Tinker chuckles. "Oooo Rrrrrrachel, look at my smooooooth moves! I'm so smoooooth! Look at me!"
"Hey Rrrrrachel, d'ya wanna see my smooooooth balls?" Tanner adds with a laugh.
"You better…" Tomlin's comeback is cut off by the PA system beeping.
*Squire Tanner, report to the Erie. Squire Tanner, report to the Erie.*
It beeps again. The momentary hush that had fallen over the occupants of the canteen disappears and the hubbub of conversation resumes. Tanner suddenly feels an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach.
"What've you done this time?" Tinker asks the question half in jest. Squires were seldom summoned to the Erie unless there was something seriously wrong.
"Maybe I'm getting promoted… I'll get to hang round with all the Romeo girls I like." Tanner puts a brave face on it.
Tomlin grins and thumps his friend's shoulder slightly harder than necessary. "You wish."
Tanner leaves his place in the queue and heads for the elevator. He reaches it and presses the top button for the highest floor. An instant later, the doors slide open. Inside the lift there is a Knight – Tanner recognises him as Knight-Captain Lee, one of the marksmanship instructors. The boy snaps to attention and salutes, his right fist touching the left hand side of his chest; the Knight nods and returns the gesture with slightly less enthusiasm, then strides off.
Tanner steps inside the lift and the doors close. There's a slight hum and a sensation of weightlessness as the mechanism transfers him from one side of the Academy to the other, then the doors ping open and he finds himself staring into the Scribe's office. The Scribe, sitting behind her oval desk, beckons to him.
"Ah, Squire Tanner. The Lord Paladin will see you now."
"Y-yes? Umm, thank you, ma'am." He stammers. He's never met the Academy's founder and principal before.
The Scribe indicates a grand entranceway to her left and presses a button on the desk. The massive doors begin to swing open.
"Go on now, don't keep him waiting." She smiles at him. Tanner just about manages a half smile in return and nods politely. He steps through the doorway and the doors shut behind him.
"Squire Tanner." A voice booms around the room. It's twilight inside and Tanner can't tell where it's coming from. His training takes over and he stands to attention, saluting in the darkness. "Y-you wanted to see me, sir?"
"Step forward, my boy." Again, the voice seems to come from everywhere. Hesitantly, Tanner steps forward. The light brightens. He continues his progress and, very soon, it's possible to make out a shadowy figure, silhouetted in a huge square window. Tanner keeps going.
Then his mind is blown.
Outside the window is a light blue sky, punctuated only by an occasional fluffy white cloud and the odd wisp of haze in the distance. Miles below, beginning at the horizon and stretching as far as the eye can see, is the familiar black and red pulsating cloud that masks the Rift. Scarcely visible are the tendrils that grow within and constantly churn like the tentacles of some twisted sea monster.
"It's quite a sight, is it not?" It's the same voice, but this time quieter. It belongs to the figure standing by the window. "Come, look closely."
Tanner doesn't need a second invitation. He trots towards the window. As he approaches, the figure turns to look at him. "Do you know who I am?"
Tanner's training kicks in again. He snaps to attention and salutes the figure, who he can now see to be an elderly man with a well-trimmed white beard and deep-set hazel eyes. He is clad in a crimson waistcoat braided with gold and sports a matching silken neckerchief. He wears a pair of leather breeches tucked into his knee-high boots, themselves trimmed with metal of the expensive variety. On his head, there sits a tri-corn hat with a long purple feather tucked into the seam. Tanner, like every human being on the planet, does know who he is.
"Yes sir! Lord Paladin Tiberius Craigthorpe Ghost, High Commander of Paladins, Lead Scientist of Project Alphabet and Founder – Principal – of the Ghost Academy. Captain of the 501st Rift Marines, the first Riftwalker, and the only man to have made it through the temporal barrier – and returned alive, sir."
The Lord Paladin chuckles. "It's good to see you have been paying attention, my boy." He turns back to the window. "Tell me… What do you see?"
Tanner gazes outside for a moment before replying. "I see… The Rift, sir. But… From above?"
The Lord Paladin chuckles again. "Yes, the Erie is quite a marvel of engineering. The only building in the surviving world still unswamped by the cancer of the rift, to my knowledge."
They stand there in silence for a few moments more. Then, the Lord Paladin turns back to Tanner. "I expect you are wondering why I brought you here." He takes the boy by the arm and leads him over to a small table, a chair at each end. He gestures for Tanner to sit and then does the same. "I understand you are familiar with the sponsorship system?"
Tanner nods. The sponsorship system was simply a scheme whereby the inhabitants of every Raydome – the vast geodesic domes inhabited by the surviving members of the human race – would choose a Squire to sponsor from each new batch. As that Squire grew, they would follow their progress and contribute towards their training in the hope that their chosen Squire would make the grade and be chosen as a Paladin Riftwalker – the ultimate honour both Squire and Raydome could achieve.
"Good. The support of the population is key and the Squires act as a symbol of hope for a brighter future – particularly when one of you becomes a Paladin. However, I'm sure you also realise that it is mostly an exercise in boosting the morale of the people, rather than an integral part of your development."
Tanner nods again. This was a fact that remained unspoken among the Squires, but all of them had a fairly good idea of what was going on. Excursions to the particular Raydome that supported you were strange affairs and not frequent – the Squire would be paraded around the streets and then stood in front of the inhabitants to be all but worshipped, something described by Tanner's Historical Assimilation teacher as being treated 'like a rock star'. This sounded fun, but got boring very quickly, so it was generally accepted among the Squires that the only decent bit about it was the food provided.
The Lord Paladin continues. "As you know, the twelve chosen from Squadron Tango will become the 20th Paladin dozen to enter the Rift, and as far as the population are aware, our 20th group of alphabetic heroes attempting to save us all. However, what they do not know is, you will likely be the last."
Tanner sits up in his chair at this. "I'm sorry, sir?"
The Lord Paladin stands and crosses back to the window. Tanner follows him.
"Consider." The old man begins. "Over the past century, the Rift has grown unimaginably – to such an extent that we are unable to trace its exact origins, save for an approximate time and location. It has swallowed all in its path and continues to do so at a rate that – and there is no gentle way to put this – is increasing alarmingly. You will have noticed that the Paladins from Squadron Romeo were deployed into an alignment several months early – too early, some argue." A deep frown crosses his brow at this. "But alas, we were left with little other choice. At the rate the Rift is growing, we are running out of time. From now on, every alignment counts. It is very likely that yours will be the last."
Tanner had been listening intently, trying to take in the revelations he was being entrusted with. Still, he struggled to comprehend entirely. "Sir… If you don't mind my asking… Why are you telling me this?"
The Lord Paladin looks the Squire up and down, an ironic smile forming on his lips. "Because you, my boy, could well be the last hope of humanity."
"But… Sir?" Tanner is disbelieving.
"I do hope you listen more carefully in your classes, Tanner." The old man chides him.
"I'm sorry, sir. But… Me? You mean… I'll be the last one? The last Riftwalker?" Tanner manages to get the words out at length. "What about Sierra? What if they manage to close the Rift first?"
"The Alignment for Squadron Sierra will be far less than ideal." A grimace crosses the Lord Paladin's face as if this is something that has been agonised over, likely because it has far deeper consequences than apparent. "And at the moment Tanner, you are nothing but a Squire – and a Squire you shall remain until you prove to us all you are worthy of the rank of Paladin. Then, of course, we can talk about the Rift – but that is why I called you in here."
"Yes sir." Tanner was expectant.
"Now, your particular skill is Sixth Sense, the most suitable for a Paladin, and you are currently scoring in our top percentile. But these figures cannot be allowed to drop and simply remaining the same is not sufficient – if you are to have any chance of entering the Rift, let alone bearing the mantle of saviour of the human race, you must become better than the best – you must become perfection. We have noted that your current company and routine is likely to impair your chances of this, so you must disassociate yourself from all distractions immediately. If you do not, we will have to take further measures."
"Distractions, sir?" Tanner queries, but fears he already knows the answer.
"Distractions. Specifically, the Squires with which you evidently associate with at all possible times."
Tanner momentarily forgets where he is. "Those 'distractions' are my friends! Sir." He adds quickly. He regrets the outburst almost as it leaves his lips.
The Lord Paladin stares at him. Tanner can feel the glare going straight through him. "I am going to give you the opportunity to rethink your previous statement."
A shiver runs through Tanner, but he stands his ground. "Sir… Those are my friends. They're Squires too, the best of the best – they've got just as much chance of making it as I have, sir."
The Lord Paladin is beginning to look irate. "Then I'm beginning to think my faith in you may have been misplaced, boy. That was an order. A direct one. Have we taught you nothing? Perhaps a spell in the Shock Box for your 'friends' will remind you how authority works?"
Tanner knows Squires who have been in the Shock Box. It's not something he would wish on anyone, let alone his best friends and closest allies. He looks deep into the old man's eyes and makes an agonising decision. "That… That won't be necessary sir, I apologise. There's no need to involve them. I'll s-s-stay away." It's a struggle for Tanner to get the last few words out.
The Lord Paladin stares at him again, his glare stripping away all pretences. After what feels like an eternity, he seems satisfied. "You will be isolated, along with a hand selected group of our finest prospects. You will study hard, train hard and become as fine an Initiate as has ever taken the final trial. And one final point; you will not mention this conversation to anyone. The information you have heard here today is highly classified and must not be relayed to anyone - you know who will be the first to suffer if you disobey, of course."
Tanner nods. "I understand, sir."
"Do not let us down, Tanner. The fate of humanity could well rest upon your shoulders." The Lord Paladin's expression softens for a moment, but does nothing to ease Tanner's inner fury.
The boy snaps to attention stiffly and salutes once more. "I won't, sir. Futurum est victima."
"Do you know what that means, Tanner?"
"Yes sir. My sacrifice is for our future."
"And don't you forget it."