“Bye! Nice to meet you all and welcome to Far Horizons! Have a good day!”
Melissa said it like she was leaving a g-ddamn brunch.
She also waved - actually waved, like princess-style - pink gym top still stretched over those fucking shoulders, ponytail swinging, skin still flushed from whatever she’d been doing downstairs in the gym with Squirt (don’t think I didn’t appreciate the Bliss but damn do those two ever stop?). As she got to the door she beamed at the dozen towering, uniformed women standing in formation in the atrium, as if they were interns on their first day.
Then she turned to me and Kathy.
“Randi, I’ve gotta go grab my little man from the pool,” she told me brightly, then thanked the older woman at my side, “Thanks Kathy!”
And she was gone.
Just like that.
The glass doors whispered shut behind her.
And the room changed.
…
I remember the sound first. Twenty minutes ago, Lakshmi and Marisela and me, and then Melissa and then Kathy, waiting for them to enter. Their big, black, quasi-military SUVs had been here a bit already. I’d seen it on my phone, on the parking lot cam feed.
Boots. The sound of boots.
Not stomping, not dramatic. Just the low, synchronized weight of them on concrete and polished marble. It made me turn. I think I said something. What was it?
“Holy shit.”
Yeah, that’s what it was.
They came in the front. Twelve of them. Uniformed. Not as tall as Melissa but at least six and a half-feet in their boots if they were an inch. Probably more, honestly. Of different skin tones, maybe, and hair color, but nearly identical. For sure identical uniforms.
The cut was somewhere between tactical military and comic-book teenage-boy wank fuel. High-collared white matte fabric, long sleeves, no exposed skin. Reinforced seams at the shoulders and thighs. Utility belts sitting low on the hips, equipment fitted so precisely it looked designed rather than issued.
Muscled. Not insane bodybuilder stuff but still ready to snap a man in half.
The Far Horizons insignia across the chest was bold but controlled, a stylized sunburst. But this one with the female symbol embedded at its center, a (cute?) added touch. Their boots were heavy-soled but silent now that they were still. Knee guards were sculpted, not bulky, gloves clipped to belts, sidearms holstered high and clean.
Guns, huh?
These girls didn’t look like they’d need them. But, whatever.
They lined up in formation in front of the five of us, then: stillness. They hadn’t spoken. They hadn’t fidgeted. They hadn’t looked around like new hires usually would. They didn’t even fucking say hello.
They stood. Waiting. None of them smiled. I mean, they didn’t glare either. Maybe they were assessing us; we for sure were doing that to them.
Lakshmi shifted slightly beside me, hands folded calmly in front of her. Marisela was pretending not to catalogue every detail on her tablet, but I could see the reflection of uniform specs in her eyes. Yeah my vision had gotten that good.
And Kathy. Kathy was waiting for something.
Melissa talked to the new recruits first - being her charming, charismatic, self, like a counselor introducing new girls to camp. She put new meaning to the word ‘blithe’, but the security team looked attentive, if a bit passive. Melissa was welcoming and friendly but didn’t really have too much to say to them beyond the niceties. She had obviously wanted to get back to Squirt.
After Melissa left, Kathy waited for the glass doors to whisper shut. Then she took a half a step ahead of me. Not dramatically, just enough.
With Melissa around, the formation had been straight. Subtly respectful. When Kathy stepped forward after Melissa left? They adjusted. It was barely perceptible but I saw it - a tightening through the line, shoulders squaring by a fraction, chins aligning. If you weren’t watching for it, you’d miss it.
I don’t miss things like that anymore.
“Stand easy,” Kathy said. Two words. Low. Even. In that unmistakable German accent that brought immediate compliance. Not sloppy relaxation - just a calibrated easing of posture.
They were listening to her. More than they had listened to Melissa? Maybe. And that was interesting. Not threatening, not yet. But informative.
I stepped forward with my best public-facing smile. And I was excited for this, yeah, I had to say. Having some muscle around here would be a good thing. It would make us safer. It also opened up possibilities.
“Welcome to Far Horizons,” I said, voice shooting for warm, trying to be resonant, definitely practiced, “You’re all here because this place matters. Because what we’re building matters. Your presence ensures that it continues to grow.”
I watched their faces as I spoke. Minimal reaction.
Hmm. That’s the best I got, bitches.
These were not women drawn by devotion, maybe. These were women drawn by structure; I saw that right away. They were dedicated to mission. To chain of command.
Where, exactly, was I in this chain of command?
Behind me, the elevators chimed faintly. Somewhere upstairs, doors were opening. Outside, I knew, the weirdest of the weekend devotees would still be trickling around the parking lot perimeter. Far Horizons had grown too large to rely on vibe alone, I guess. We needed these new security guards. Maybe we needed those guns.
Kathy began walking the line. Slowly, hands clasped behind her back. She stopped in front of the third woman from the left - tall, like all of them. Hair a bit shorter than the others. Covered by makeup but I saw a relatively fresh scar along her jaw.
“Your previous assignment?” Kathy asked.
“Honduras, Ma’am,” the woman spoke. Man her voice was deep. “Infantry.”
Interesting. How many of these girls had seen action?
Kathy nodded once and moved on. She certainly didn’t look at me or Lakshmi or Marisela for approval. She looked like she didn’t need it.
Lakshmi leaned slightly toward me. “They’re, uh, disciplined,” she murmured.
“Yeah huh?” I said quietly.
They were more than disciplined. They were cohesive. That kind of cohesion doesn’t happen in a weekend seminar. That happens under pressure. Wow. And these women were ours? And there were maybe more coming?
Already I pictured it; I couldn’t help it:
Melissa emerging from the front entrance, or maybe descending the front steps of some new edifice flanked by them, forming a V behind her like a royal guard. The sunburst insignia catching morning light. The Horizon Force. The Dawn Maidens. We’ll come up with a name.
If nothing else, the branding possibilities were endless. But branding was only part of it, because as Kathy completed her inspection and returned to stand at the head of the formation, I felt something else under my ribs.
This wasn’t symbolic protection. This was badass for real.
“Perimeter maps are loaded to your units,” Kathy said, “Blind spots will be reassessed tonight. Night rotation begins at 2100. Questions?”
None. Of course none. They didn’t look like women who asked questions in public. And for the first time since we started talking about “expanding security,” I understood the shift: Melissa inspires while me and the girls build the narrative. Kathy’s building the muscle.
I guess our little hive was growing teeth. Or stingers. Or whatever. Anyway, I smiled, because this was progress (I think). But I made a quiet note, filed neatly away in the part of my mind reserved for future contingencies:
We would need to decide, sooner rather than later, who exactly the muscle answered to.
===========================