The groggy companions managed to drag themselves out of bed and make themselves marginally presentable before wandering over to the noisy mess hall. As Duncaan held the door open, the four travelers were assaulted by myriad smells wafting out of the hall. Grease, meat, ale, and sweat were the predominant aromas. Sounds of clanking metal utensils, shuffling feet, bored conversations, the occasional shout or song, and the not-so-infrequent rude noise also flowed out of the mess hall like a steady stream.

Lyta peered into the smoke-filled, dimly lit room and commented, “Looks like the bar back home. Not a place brimming with good memories for me. Are we really hungry?”

Duncaan shrugged and Jakar and Mystryl stood motionless until Riley brushed past them to stand in the doorway. “Are you coming in? Look, they’re harmless, I swear!” he said with a grin.

“What, the people or the meals?” Mystryl asked sarcastically.

Riley just laughed and went into the mess hall. He called back over his shoulder, “If you hurry, there may still be some Chef’s Surprise!”

Jakar shook his head. “His lack of an answer worries me, but I am pretty hungry. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I figure if we’re going to be here for any length of time, we’d better learn to fit in a little. Mysty, why don’t you go with Duncaan and Lyta, you follow me.

“I can take care of myself,” Mystryl retorted and then looked expectantly at Lyta.

Lyta seemed torn between a decision, but finally said, “I grew up in a place much less tame than this, so I’m sure I’ll be fine too. You guys go ahead and meet some new people. Besides, those guys are military so there must be some order enforced here. We’ll scream if we need your help with anything.”

In no time at all, Duncaan was arm-wrestling while Jakar munched some sort of grain product while he looked on, Lyta was entertaining a group of people with a story, and Mystryl was threatening a hung over soldier’s unborn children if he didn’t keep his hands to himself. Riley watched the all with a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. They’ll fit in great! I just hope the big man can convince them to join his cause… He stood after a while to round them all up and take them to his leader.

“Let me just warn you, the boss isn’t like any other leader you’ve ever met. He had inspired more people to his cause than anyone I’ve ever heard of short of PSI itself. When he speaks, you’ll be blown away. People have been known to fall before him when they are first introduced, so just be on your guard,” Riley told them gravely.

Riley led them to the command building which seemed to be composed of all of four rooms: a commons, a briefing room, a records and surveillance room, and the boss’ office. Even before they came up to the office door, the five people could hear a heated discussion taking place within.

An angry voice said, “With all due respect, I don’t see why you are being so quick to trust him! He was the guardian-blasted Captain of the guard, by Elamar!”

A more subdued voice replied, “Watch your language, Colonel. My position on this matter stands. You heard what the president did to him. While I don’t intend to give him full rights and privileges yet, especially in his devastated emotional state, I do intend to give him something to do around here and hope that he can seek to avenge his son one day. What reason do you have to doubt him?”

The angry voice would have replied, but Riley knocked on the door after motioning to his four companions to step back a pace or two. The colonel opened the door and walked away. Face red with frustration and anger. The boss came shortly after. The four newcomers nearly fell over when they saw him. From the office emerged a slightly short and stout man with wavy, graying strawberry-flaxen hair that came below his ears. He also had a full beard of the same color.

“Greetings. I am the scourge of the enslavers, the enemy of injustice, and leader of the resistance force known as the Returners. I am known to my friends as,” here he paused for dramatic effect, “Bob! I’d be pleased if you would do the same.”

Duncaan’s jaw dropped and he began laughing so hysterically that he almost started rolling on the floor in front of Bob. When he recovered a bit, he said between gasps, “What kind of a name is Bob? We were expecting someone with a powerful name like Thor or Samson or Khan or Beowulf or some other name from millennia ago. ‘Bob’ is just so, so…”

Bob eyed him menacingly. “Do you doubt the greatness and power that is Bob?” He winked at Riley before continuing, “Yeah, sometimes I do myself… But no matter, what’s in a name anyway? I called you here to ask for your help. Our intelligence has been getting all sorts of information from PSI’s reports and we feel that the four of you would be an invaluable addition to our cause. The choice is entirely up to you of course and you may leave if you wish. My troops will not hinder you. Perhaps you will allow me to show you around though, and tell you about the principles that drive us.”

They agreed and Bob gave them a thorough tour of the camp, only leaving out those areas he explained he had to leave concealed due to security reasons. He was sure they understood. After the grand tour was completed, he gathered the group before him once again, along with all of his key advisors who were in the camp at that time.

“Well, what do you think? Are you willing to oppose the injustices of PSI by our side? We may not have the most resources ever heard of, but I can assure you, we will fight to the last if that’s what it takes. Because of your unique position, I won’t ask you to sign anything as all of the other people here have done, but I will ask for your word, which I will assume to be trustworthy. Should it prove otherwise, well… You have seen but a preview of what our operatives are capable of doing. I’m certain that won’t be necessary though. At this point, you are still fully free to go. We will trust you not to reveal our location. I want people to join us willingly, because they believe in the cause, not because they feel they must.” Bob looked around at their faces, all deeply serious.

Duncaan glanced at Jakar, then at Lyta and Mystryl. He seemed to find agreement in their eyes. Finally he spoke up. “Sir, we seem to all be in agreement. We’ll work with you for your cause. We’ve certainly seen how sadistic PSI can really be beneath that clean, smiling face they show the world. I think I speak for all of us though when I say that we’re worried about some friends that we got separated from a while back. For all we know they’re not even alive anymore, but if you get your people to help us look for them, we’ll join with you. Right everyone?”

“Right,” Lyta said, and the others nodded.

Bob smiled warmly. “I’m certain we can arrange that. I’ll send out the orders immediately. Again, because of your unique position and ranges of skills, you’ll not be integrated into the body of troops. I have more specialized missions and assignments in mind for you. Of course, you’ll be compensated for the risks by food, board, and pay. We can’t be as generous as we might like, but we are not completely without our resources. Training for your group will commence the day after tomorrow at oh-six hundred. Please be prompt.” Bob shook all their hands and walked towards his office. He paused and turned to face them.

“I don’t think you realize how much hope this will bring to our cause. From what my scouts report, you four may well turn the tide of this conflict in our favor. I truly thank you for your willingness to commit.” With that, he entered his office and closed the door, leaving the four and Riley to think about all that had come to pass.

Though the drills seemed to go on and on, occasionally the weary Returners troops were allowed a brief rest. While they did function as special forces operatives, the group of travelers was expected to meet the same standards as all of the other forces. Lyta had sought refuge under a scraggly knotwood tree several yards from where Jakar and Mystryl had collapsed in a heap of complaints a moment before. Duncaan had gone off in search of some liquor, despite the early hour of the afternoon.

In an attempt to control her waves of thick, dark hair when she had begun the training exercises of the day, Lyta had pulled it back with a large handkerchief she carried with her. As she sat under the tree fanning herself with her slender hand, she pulled the kerchief away from her hair and used it to mop her forehead.

The wind seemed determined to ignore her, denying her even a small breeze of comfort. So, Lyta decided to go in search of some breeze herself, and get another look around the camp while she was at it. She wandered past the barracks, greeted a few people she recognized, and glanced into the supply building. Everyone seemed to have fled the stuffy, warehouse-like room seeking relief from the heat. Then she walked by the mess hall, hoping perhaps to beg for a sip or two of something. Duncaan burst out of the front doors with a smile on his face and a pint of beer in each hand.

“Hey, Jakar! Look what I talked the cook out of! Don’t make me finish these myself!” Duncaan shouted towards Jakar’s general direction.

“Don’t get so wasted you can’t finish today’s maneuvers! I’ve had enough of dragging away big lugs like you to last me a lifetime!” Lyta shouted after Duncaan with a laugh. As she turned around heading towards the rear of the mess hall, she nearly collided with someone who seemed to be in a great hurry.

“Holy cow, careful where you’re going, miss! I’m late enough with my deliveries as it is and a crash would just cause a scene. Pardon me now,” said the flustered young man Lyta found before her.

“If you’re in as much of a hurry as all that, shouldn’t you be the one looking where you’re going so this kind of thing doesn’t happen? It’s not like I was being quiet a minute ago, gosh!” Lyta folded her arms in front of her, clearly annoyed.

The man looked towards the sky for a moment, exasperated. “No, you certainly weren’t…”

Lyta glared at him.

“I meant… Oh boy.” He made a face. “…Ok, I’m sorry I almost ran you over. But you’ve got to understand, my mule turned up lame this morning and bringing my weekly load of produce from the farm has taken two hours longer than it was supposed to. And you know how the cook can be when things don’t go as he’s planned, I’m sure.”

Knowing all to well what the man meant, Lyta nodded wryly. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. Hey, what’s your name anyway, Mr. Farmer?”

“I’m Andrew. Well, Andy if you prefer. Eh, I’ll answer to whichever’s being yelled in my direction at the time. Usually if they want me to fix something, it’s ‘Handy.’” Andrew shrugged. “You?”

“I’m Lyta Cabarel, and I guess it’s a pleasure…” She stuck out her hand and he shook it quickly. She wrinkled her nose as she discovered the effect the hot day had had on him.

“Okay, well, it’s been great to meet you and all, but I gotta go now. G’bye.” And with that, Andrew slipped quickly past Lyta, presumably headed for his produce cart.

Gosh, what a rude person! I hope he’s not always like that… I can’t stand it when people act like the world is all about them! I mean, he was kinda cute I guess, but what a jerk! …I guess I’d better go see if cook’s willing to give me some water. That’s why I had to go through this mess in the first place. Lyta proceeded to get her drink and thought no more about her encounter the rest of the day.

That night in the bunk house, Mystryl peered down from the top bunk to Lyta’s bunk below, her blonde hair spilling comically around her upside-down face. “So I heard you had a collision earlier today. The heat messing with you that much?” She whispered with a smirk.

“Oh, shut up!” Lyta whispered back loudly. “What do you know about it anyway?” She huffed and turned away towards the wall.

“I have it on good authority that you nearly killed out only supplier of fresh produce for miles. At least, he’s the only farmer in the area who supports the cause of the Returners. You want to switch to eating stewed jerky or rock crackers or something?”

Lyta tried to swat Mystryl, but Mystryl ducked back up too quickly. “Wow, I guess I really hit a nerve, huh?”

Lyta did not reply.

After a quiet moment or two, Mystryl climbed quietly out of bed and sat down cross-legged by Lyta’s bed. “So was he cute?”

The former barkeeper rolled over to face her tormenter. “I don’t know, I guess kind of. He needs a haircut though.” She paused. “…But he was a jerk! And he was rude and I couldn’t stand him! I wish he hadn’t even come around, urgh! I was just minding my own business after all.”

Mystryl leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. “I’ve seen him a couple of times. From what I can tell, everyone seems to really like him. But who knows, you’re probably right. Just wondered what you thought of him. I’ll leave you alone… It’s not like I’m your friend Faith and you can actually talk to me…” She sighed, got to her feet and climbed back to the top bunk. “Goodnight.”

Ignoring her, Lyta rolled back to face the wall again, but it was a long time before she managed to get to sleep, which made the next day all the more tiresome.