Valor's Cost

by Kal Spriggs

  I had already had plenty of condolences, including from the two of them. I didn't really want any more of that. I'd cried, I'd mourned, and I was tired of the constant reminders of it all. I most wanted to forget, to lose myself in work. Yet I owed it to them, as my friends, to answer their call.

  I connected and my implant painted their images into my room, straight into my brain. “Jiden, thank God, what's going on over there!?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Nothing's changed since yesterday. What did you hear?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Sashi stared at me.

  “She hasn't heard. Oh, man, Jiden, haven't you been monitoring the news?”

  I made a face, “No. I've been doing my best to ignore it. Half the stuff they're running about my family is garbage and the stuff they've been blasting about 'Militia Incompetence' was just making me angry. I've actually got a filter up to keep any 'news' out of my feed right now.”

  “I can't believe it...” Sashi shook her head, “you mean, she didn't tell you first?”

  “Who didn't tell me what?” I was getting frustrated. I split off part of my attention, using my implant to dive into the news feeds and catch up. That was when things got funky.

  “Admiral Armstrong announces resignation as Academy Superintendent?!” I read the title out loud and I felt shock as I skimmed through the article. “My grandmother is stepping down?!”

  “That's what it looks like,” Karmazin nodded. “I couldn't believe it. And then the news got picked up by pretty much every news agency. They're saying the shock was too much, that she's going to retire.”

  “No...” yet I remembered the conversation I'd overheard between her and Beckman. Was this the result? Had my grandmother finally lost too much? Had she decided to let her opponents win?

  I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. “Guys,” I said, my voice tight, “I've got to go.”

  I cut off the call before they could respond. I rose from where I'd been sitting cross-legged on my bed and hurried downstairs. My grandmother's office was open and I went right inside, “Is it true?”

  The Admiral looked up from her desk. She looked tired. Tired and worn, and I realized that for the first time since I'd met her, she actually looked old. She'd had the anti-aging treatments, but she just looked weary. She pursed her lips, “I see we're going to have to have this conversation, now, rather than later as I'd hoped. Close the door, Jiden.”

  “I'm not going to--”

  “Close the door,” she snapped in her command voice. I found myself obeying, sliding the doors closed quickly. Then, to my shock, a shimmering field appeared in the doorway.

  “What...”

  “It's an anti-snooping field,” she replied. “I've activated security protocols on this office. You'll find you can't transmit outside with your implant and all the systems in my office are now firewalled.”

  I tested the field and she wasn't lying. I couldn't talk to anyone. “What about someone listening outside the door?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Like you were, while Beckman was here?” She asked wryly. I flushed but I gave her a nod. “The field dampens sonic waves as well. No one will hear our conversation, though I suspect James already knows what I'm saying. He's always been far too good at reading me.”

  She sighed, “The attack that killed your parents and brother... it shouldn't have happened, Jiden. I know that far better than anyone. We have multiple layers of security around Century. It's not just that they avoided our patrols or that they slipped into the system without our sensors picking them up.” Her expression went hard. “Their emergence from strategic warp caused a massive electromagnetic instability and generated a huge sandstorm. It should have set off alarms all over the planet... but it didn't. And it ties into my itinerary almost perfectly. If I hadn't been delayed a few hours by some business here, I'd be dead along with most of the the rest of our family.”

  I stared at her, “You're saying that someone helped them. Someone from within the Militia.”

  “Or the government,” she nodded. “And when I started investigating, I was shut down. Charterer Beckman's visit is only the most recent event. Officers who I've known for decades are suddenly not answering my calls. People are afraid and no one is willing to step forward and talk.”

  “You're saying it is some kind of conspiracy?” I asked in shock.

  “I'm saying that someone very powerful is influencing things. I have a signed letter from President Frey telling me to allow the Enforcers to complete the investigation,” The Admiral's expression was hard. “If you had told me three weeks ago that President Frey would give that kind of letter to Charterer Beckman to deliver, I would have called you insane.”

  I shrugged, I didn't know much about the President. I knew far too much about Charterer Beckman, though. “What are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to publicly resign from my post at the Academy due to family reasons. I'm going to take an assignment at Century Station. And then, I'm going to dig into this whole mess,” the Admiral's voice was hard.

  “You think...” I couldn't finish. Century Station was where the system's sensors all reported. If there was a log of what had gone wrong, it would be there. “How can I help?”

  She gave me an arch look, “I appreciate the show of support, but this is going to be... touchy. I'm technically disobeying a direct order from the President of Century, Jiden. I'd rather not get you involved in what amounts to treason.”

  “I've got my implant--”

  “They will probably begin monitoring your implant usage,” the Admiral predicted. “Probably as soon as you get back to school. It'll be some kind of 'protection' measure. Don't count on being able to use it freely.” She sighed, “They're going to appoint a new superintendent. I won't have any control over who they put in my place, there.”

  I swallowed, “Admiral Drien?”

  She shot me a hard look, “No. Not him, I don't think. But a political appointee. Probably Rear-Admiral Fischer. He's a recent promotion and he owes his career to Charterer Beckman.”

  “Fischer?” I asked, confused.

  “He's an active duty Militia officer,” my grandmother said. “He hasn't really done much of anything. He's been on procurement assignments and 'liaison' activities his entire senior career. He hasn't commanded a unit since...” she trailed off, “well, since I had him relieved as a squadron commander.”

  “Oh,” I said. “So he probably won't like me, much.”

  “He's not particularly bright. Well, that's not entirely true.” The Admiral admitted, “He's cunning, he's very good at seeing connections and knowing who is important within political and social circles. He's even technically competent... he's just a terrible leader.” She looked at me, “That doesn't leave this room, understand?”

  “Yes, ma'am,” I replied.

  “I'm going to assume they'll rotate out most or all of the instructor staff. I'm guessing they'll keep Doctor Fuesting and Doctor Schoeffelk on staff, mostly because they won't realize their importance.”

  I could get why Doctor Schoeffelk was important. He was helping to figure out what Doctor Aisling had done to me and my friends with our special “Quicksilver” neural implants. Doctor Fuesting was... well, she was mostly grouchy and seemed to take every injury I collected as some kind of insult or challenge. She'd even made a little brass plaque for me, assigning a bed in the Academy hospital to me.

  “This... this isn't fair,” I grumbled.

  “Life isn't fair, Jiden. We just do the best with the hands we're dealt.” The Admiral said. She sounded tired, genuinely tired. I was worried about her. I'd lost my parents and my brother and if I stopped to think about it, I felt like the world was ending. She had lost her daughter and grandson. She'd lost her son eight years earlier. My grandmother had been to so many funerals, lost so many friends and family... was this finally getting to be too much?

  “Now,” she looked me square in the eyes. “Don't get involved.
Focus on your studies, keep your head down, and don't trust any of the new instructors there. They're going to stack the deck, to try to change things. Do what you have to do to pass, to graduate.”

  I could only nod in response.

  “It's going to be okay, Jiden,” my grandmother said. She looked out the window of her office, her blue eyes going hard and icy, a chill swept over me as I watched her expression shift. “We'll survive... and the people who hurt the ones we love... they're going to pay for it.”

  ***

  Chapter 3: Nothing Is The Same And I Hate It

  I boarded the train to the Academy, early in the morning and feeling groggy and disconnected. The train ride was only a few hours, but all I wanted to do was sleep.

  I wore civilian clothes and I stood out, because of it. My uniforms and gear had been burned with the rest of everything I owned. The exception would be the handful of toiletries I'd stashed at my new room at school before I'd left.

  I could feel people's eyes on me as I walked down the train to the car where my friends waited. Nobody knew what to say to me. My world had ended in such a cataclysmic fashion. I could feel pity in some of those gazes... gloating in others. I passed by Cadet Third Class Beckman, who had a slight smirk on her face as she watched me go past.

  Sashi's oldest brother, Nahka Drien, had graduated, but his little brother, Cadet Commander Toro Drien stood with arms crossed, chatting and laughing with a couple of other Cadets First Class. The Drien family and my family, the Armstrongs, had a rivalry that went back over two hundred years, at least to the founding of Century’s Militia. His conversation trailed off as he saw me, but his smile didn't fade.

  It was everything I could do to keep walking past them both. Beckman I wanted to grab by her just-out-of-regulation hair and smash face first into the bulkhead of the train. As for Drien... well, he'd find it a lot harder to smile if I knocked his teeth out.

  But I knew that if I did that on the train, there would be witnesses. There would be repercussions. Fights weren't allowed, not on the train and definitely not on school grounds. A certain level of roughhousing was ignored, but I didn't doubt that they'd come down on me with a hammer if I physically assaulted a cadet officer with witnesses present.

  And Beckman would go crying to her aunt... She'd done it before, as a Plebe, when she'd considered the training 'unfair.' Beckman’s aunt was Charterer Beckman, one of the twelve members of the Charter Council that more or less ran Century. Cadet Beckman would go to her aunt again in a heartbeat, I knew, given the smallest excuse.

  I stepped into the next train car and walked right into Kyle. “Hey, Jiden, there you are. I thought you were going to message me when you got to the station? I was worried you missed the train or something.” He looked worried, his expression intent, his green eyes focused on me, peering at me like he was trying to make sure I wasn't broken or something.

  Broken... yeah, that pretty much describes how I feel. I pushed that thought aside. I couldn’t afford to think, to feel.

  “Sorry,” I answered, feeling sort of wooden inside. I realized that my anger at Beckman and Toro Drien had actually been a benefit. It had kept me moving, kept me focused. Now all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep. Or cry.

  No. I had cried enough. I pulled everything I had and met my boyfriend's concerned eyes. “I was working on some of the coursework. I forgot to message you, sorry.”

  From his expression, I knew I hadn't entirely convinced him. Then again, since we’d been dating for almost two years now, he probably knew me too well to be fooled. “We've got a spot over here,” he said, leading me to one of the side rooms, with his height and his red hair, it was easy enough to follow him through the crowded train. He slid open a side door after a moment and led the way inside.

  Karmazin was speaking in a low angry voice, “...swear, if I see that smiling jerk laugh about how things are changing, one more time, I'm going to punch his teeth out.”

  “Alex,” Sashi winced, “Look, I know he's... well, he's being an idiot, but he is my brother.”

  “He's bragging about the Admiral resigning!” Karmazin hissed. “He's as much as said that he expects to graduate top of his class now!”

  Kyle cleared his throat and the pair of them spun. “Oh, uh, hey Jiden,” Karmazin said, somewhat sheepishly. With his dark hair, olive skin, and grey eyes, he didn’t really look sheepish. He looked angry.

  I stared at him. “Toro Drien is saying what now?”

  Karmazin shot a look at Sashi. They were dating, I knew. That was a recent thing, it had happened just last year. But I could tell from Karmazin's angry look and Sashi's stubborn set of her jaw that this was not something they agreed on.

  “My brother,” Sashi began, “thinks that with a change of leadership here at the Academy, that he'll do better.” She sounded just a little defensive, as if she half agreed. Sashi had been my on-again-off-again friend. She’d once shot me in the face at point blank with a training round in order to score points with her family. That hadn’t been enough for them, though. They didn’t want her here at the Academy, the whole Drien family seemed to think that women shouldn’t be in the military.

  The very thought that the Admiral might be penalizing someone over their family connections was absurd. I felt a spike of rage go through me. “Are you suggesting that the Admiral...”

  “No!” Sashi protested, her eyes going wide. “No, well, I'm not suggesting that,” she clarified shooting a guilty look at Karmazin. The clear implication was that her brother might be suggesting exactly that. “But you have to admit, the Admiral favors a certain learning and leadership style. There's been talk for years that it has influenced assignments towards, well, what she thinks is more effective. You have to admit that some of the other schools of thought might feel that's unfair.”

  I tried to be impartial. I really did. “So your brother thinks the Admiral stepping down is a good thing?” She sighed and nodded. I frowned as I stared at her. “I thought you weren't talking to any of your family.”

  “She wasn't,” Karmazin grunted angrily, “but her brother called her up a few hours after the news of the Admiral broke.”

  I stared at Sashi, “What did he say?”

  Sashi looked down. “Well, he said that without her, maybe I'd be better off resigning.”

  “I'm going to kill him,” I spun around. Strong hands caught me by the shoulders. “No,” Kyle said, “you're not.”

  “He's threatening my friend!” I snapped. I didn't fight him though as he turned me back around.

  I glared up at him, feeling my anger focus on him. Yet his expression, calm and caring, shattered what I was about to shout at him. Hock, I can even be mad at him, he's just too nice...

  “He didn't threaten me,” Sashi went on. “He was actually pretty nice about it. He told me that he'd overheard my father and older brother talking to my grandfather. There's a good chance that my grandfather will be the next superintendent, and...”

  “I'd heard it will be Rear Admiral Fischer,” I interrupted.

  The room went quiet except for the rushing of air outside as the high speed train rocketed along.

  “You... but then the Admiral...” Karmazin stared at me. “Rear Admiral Fischer, he hasn't had a command position in decades.”

  I didn't ask him how he knew that. “She thought it was likely that he would receive the assignment,” I said. I didn't say anything else she'd told me about the man. She'd told me to keep that quiet, and I would.

  I looked at Sashi, “Fischer isn't your grandfather. He's not going to focus on running you out.”

  “Maybe not. Either way, I wasn't going to resign,” Sashi answered quickly. I wondered at that, though. And I wondered what else she and her brother might have talked about.

  The door opened behind me. I stepped out of the way, shaking off Kyle's hands on my shoulders. Ashiri looked around at all of us. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot. She saw me and then stepped forward and embraced me in a hug, “Oh
, god, Jiden, I'm so sorry!”

  Oh... hock. I'd told myself that I was done with tears, but this blindsided me. Ashiri was my best friend. We'd talked over the net, but she hadn't been able to come to the funeral, she'd been working on make-up assignments from last year and she hadn't had the time anyway to fly out from New Albion.

  Now, all my sadness, all my grief, came washing over me. Suddenly I was in tears and she and I bawled. I felt weak, I felt vulnerable, yet my friends simply stepped forward and embraced me. It was a group hug and for a little while, I didn't need to be strong or brave... I could just cry until the ache left me.

  ***

  Some time later, I sat curled up on the seat. The others had either gone to sleep or started working on their own assignments, or just gaming like Karmazin.

  I closed my eyes and connected to the train's network. The train was dedicated to the training facilities, the enlisted and officer schools were nearby one another and the train serviced both. It was tied into the Academy network, as well, and I connected with my neural implant

  The Quicksilver implant was technically a Tier Three neural implant. It was officially designed to fully integrate with all areas of my brain, allowing me to intuitively link with computer networks and to control just about any networked or “smart” equipment. It was designed with alien technology, tech that my parents had dug up in the million-plus-year-old alien ruins under Black Mesa.

  Of course, the neural scientist behind the Quicksilver implant project had turned out to be an alien of some kind. She was also psychotic and had some unknown motivation. She'd tried to kill me and had tortured my friends. So there was a lot we didn't really know about the implants.

  Still, connecting to the school network felt almost like coming home. Black Mesa Outpost had strictly limited bandwidth and I hadn't been able to use my implant at anything approaching full capacity while I'd been there. So much was done with old, outdated tech, and...

  Not anymore... The reminder shattered my feeling of normality. The Outpost was gone. The people who had lived there were dead. Men, women, and children. They didn't do anything there anymore.