Under the Influence

“At ease, soldier!” The large voice boomed as I entered the review room. I looked directly at the Commander. I did not divert my eyes to glance at the other two personnel in the room with him. I knew better than to break protocol like that! When did “at ease” literally mean “at ease”?

“Sir! Yes, sir!” I bellowed, stamped a foot, then stood legs slightly spread with my large knobbly hands behind my back.

“Sit.” the Commander ordered, pointing at an uninviting stool, small for my seven-foot three body. The warm acrid air barely stirred. This would not be comfortable. I sat, eyes straight ahead, trying to observe the other two with my peripheral vision. They were one to each side of me. I hoped they weren’t going to spring anything on me, but I kept my well-honed muscles tensed just in case. My training demanded it.

“As you are aware, we perform random reviews of units deployed into active duty in our High-profile Elite Liaison Legion. Your unit is currently under review. As such, we deployed a Field Marshall as Observer to you. Your FMO…” He nodded to the male on my left as he spoke.

“… has made observations, which have been analysed by your Mental Resilience Officer. Your MRO.” The Commander nodded to the female on my right, who moved more fully into view. Names were not required. I knew them both. The soldiers which I trained with all hated this MRO. She frequently took soldiers out of active duty for “their own well-being” or some other such shit. She had better not try that on with me!

“Yes, sir!” I acknowledged, steeling my face and eyes to not give away any of my thoughts. I placed my heavily knuckled brawlers hands neatly onto my thighs.

The FMO stepped towards the front of the room at a nod from the Commander. “I have been your Designated Observer, and I have to say that I have… concerns.”

I fought with my wayward left eyebrow as it attempted to raise itself up. Keeping my face still, I dropped my eyes and kept my breathing even. ‘Concerns, huh? I’ll bet you do,’ I thought. I picked at the blotchy red flaking skin on my hands, and it only led me to think of Viv’s dark burnt-honey colour skin that was as soft as a… as a…. Well, nothing else was as soft. I suppressed a smile.

“You were assigned to a woman called… Vivienne Ashford.”

I nodded a single nod of confirmation, but my mind meandered away as I visualised Viv’s impish smile and laughing eyes.

“Yes, Mrs Vivienne Ashford,” he continued. “And it appears that you have been performing domestic tasks for her. You were observed carrying groceries whilst on duty. Care to explain?”

“Yes, sir! Mrs Ashford and I were in the city. There was an elderly woman on the streets, a person that Viv knew. Viv, I mean Mrs Ashford, asked me to ‘use my muscles’ to carry the shopping for the woman as we were walking the same direction, sir.”

“And you complied? Because you were asked to?”

Of course I complied! How could I not? Viv had smiled and looked at me with those warm treacle-coloured eyes, so different to my murky green ones. She had tweaked my bicep playfully and said, “Go on, use those big muscles of yours to help my friend out. It’s the right thing to do, you know!” I almost-smiled again at the memory but caught myself in time. That would get me into no end of shit! “Yes, sir! My strong build was uniquely suited to the task.” I answered. I felt my pecs give a little involuntary flex, one after the other, as I thought about just how much Viv liked my muscles.

“I see! And you think that carrying… groceries… whilst deployed is an appropriate use of the muscles that we trained?

I did not respond. I stared straight ahead. No answer was going to be acceptable in this situation.

“In fact,” the Field Marshall continued, without pause. “This was not the only time you performed as a beast of burden, was it?”

“No sir.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Sir, our training demands that we fit in, disguised and unobservable. Carrying things is normal for men to do. It would have looked remiss if I had declined to carry heavy items.”

“And if you had needed to fight?”

“With respect, sir, I could have immediately dropped everything and responded to an attack. My senses were always on red alert.”

The MRO had walked closer to me whilst the Observer spoke. She made no sound on the stone floor as she moved. She was within arm’s reach on my right side and was staring at me like I was a bug in a mug, scrutinising me, and with not some little distaste on her evil-assed face. That wasn’t a good sign. I swallowed hard, the buzz of distant masculine voices in the background superseded by the all-encompassing sound of her beathing, so close to me.

“And was putting Mr Ashford into the hospital appropriate use of your highly trained muscles?” she asked, her soft voice grated like the rasp of a metal file on a hoof.

I clenched my jaw, my whole body instantly going stiff with barely suppressed rage.

“Mister Ashford is very free with his fists.” I ground out. “He needed a lesson in decorum. A lesson I was uniquely placed to deliver.”

“Idiot!” the Commander hissed at me and shook his head. “What part of non-involvement didn’t you understand from your training?”

“Sir, I…” I started, but stopped, upon hearing the FMO snort.

“No part of my observations indicates any hint of non-involvement.” he spat out. He picked up a veritable book’s-worth of notes and threw them at my feet. I ignored the thump of them hitting the floor. “It would take far too long to go through all of this, but clearly, the only active duty this soldier has performed has been within Mrs Ashford’s sheets. It’s all there. Every sordid detail.”

The Commander sighed. “We don’t need to go through any more of it. There is no need.” He turned his eyes towards the MRO.

Taking her cue, a feminine voice spoke out from right behind my ear and I squashed the instinct to jump at her proximity. Hells, she was stealthy!

“There is no doubt whatsoever that this soldier is under the influence of his Liaison Assignee. As such, I move that he be withdrawn from the response unit, and all access rights to the summoning tokens be revoked.”

“No! I…. NO!” I shouted, jumping up off my stool, knocking it over with a loud clatter as I spun around to glare at her vile visage.

“It’s alright, soldier,” said the Commander, trying to soothe me. “Hand over the response token. We will allocate another demon to respond the next time Mrs Ashford performs a summoning ritual.”
“No!” I yelled. I shoved my hand into my pocket, to make sure my token was still there.

“Hand it over.” The MRO reached a hand towards me, palm up, clawed fingers extending and retracting as she gestured for me to give it to her.

“I. Said. No!” I knocked her hand away with my thick, sinuous tail and made a dash for the door. My career was over, but there was no way in all the hells they were going to prevent me from going to Viv if she called for me!

The Field Marshall had already moved to the door to block my exit, but I was younger, and stronger. I easily tore out his throat with hooked claws and pushed his dying body aside, ignoring the spurt of black blood that sprayed out of his neck. I raced away and snatched up my axe from the weapons rack as I passed it. Sirens began to blare as I knocked aside the Quartermaster. Bolting through the encampment, I leapt through the cast iron doors being closed to contain me, ripping my arm as I passed the protruding spikes.

I ran for hours, until the sounds of pursuit eventually faded. Finding a place to rest behind a rocky outcropping in the desolate red terrain, I sat, axe in one hand, summoning token in the other. I kept one ear out for the trackers that would come, then the Bounty hunters who would come if the trackers failed. My prime objective now was to stay free until Viv summoned me, then ask her for a soul-bond so I could remain in her world with her until she grew old and died. After that, nothing else would ever matter.

© Catherine Knee 2025. All rights reserved.

3rd Place, Lutterworth Writers Group Annual Short Story competition 2025