“I miss Galm,” Jahx whispered, closing his eyes and leaning against the bunk post. Jetta’s fists uncurled, and she sat back down on the bunk.
“Me too,” Jaeia said, pulling the pillow close to her body.
“I just wish we could tell him we were okay.”
Jetta agreed with her brother. The Dominion Core forbade any contact with anyone outside the Academy for the first five years of training. Even if they could contact Galm sooner, Jetta didn’t know what she would say.
“I’m going to be late to class. Gaming strategy is clear cross the base,” Jaeia sighed, sitting up.
“Be careful,” Jetta whispered. Jaeia managed a smile as she grabbed her datafiles, then exited the barracks to catch one of the flatbed, anti-grav lifts to her class.
“I’ve got to get to chemistry. Shouldn’t you be getting ready, too?” Jahx said as he stuffed a few more supplies into his uniform pockets.
“It’s an unfair trade, you know,” she whispered as she passed him the pad. She projected her thoughts to him, sharing all the things she couldn’t say with words. How happy she was that they could finally eat all they wanted—that they didn’t have to fight for their food or search out water. How good it felt to be rid of that coarse tepper-cloth and the rucken worm infections that came with it. And the beds—they had never slept on real beds before, much less in a room with climate control and no infestations.
But most importantly, they all had a chance to be healthy now, especially Jahx. His belly was no longer swollen, and he breathed normally again. In fact, they had gained two kilograms each after only five days of regular meals.
And best of all, no Yahmen, Jetta thought. No one could ever hurt us like him.
“Please,” Jahx pleaded, closing his eyes.
Feeling her brother’s pained reaction, Jetta redirected her thoughts. “I’d better get going.”
“Please—be careful. And be nice to the others,” Jahx said as she grabbed her datapads out of her storage unit.
“I’ve always been nothing but sweet,” she said, elbowing him in the arm on her way out.
“I’m sure,” Jahx laughed.
AS WEEKS TURNED INTO months of marginal performances in the classroom, no teacher paid any special interest in the triplets. Jetta even felt better about their social situation. None of the other students tried to befriend them after the incident in the mess hall, but the teasing had dwindled as she and her siblings grew. In less than a year they had put on so much height that they appeared to be eight years old instead of five, and with the constant influx of new students and the rapid graduation of older kids, the three of them disappeared into the mix just as they had hoped.
However, the Core monitored everything so strictly that they had gotten nowhere with their search for answers or opportunities for escape.
We have to graduate to the prep school. At least the students have semi-private quarters and their own terminals. We could request to room together. Then we could do it, Jetta communicated silently as she watched her siblings shovel down their dinners in the mess hall.
The first round of basic training had sparked their appetites, enough that they had each requested a third tray of food. Jetta felt uneasy every time she had to go up the next pants size or swap out for a bigger pair of boots. The occasional aching in her bones and constant hunger didn’t bother her as much as looking in the mirror and seeing a giant staring back at her. Still, she couldn’t argue with being stronger and faster.
Jaeia moved the food around on her tray as she mulled over the idea. You’re right. But that would mean we’d have to pass the prep exam, and that would seem a little weird, don’t you think? I’m averaging a Pass in all my classes, and it would be a stretch if I just aced the exam.
We could get tutors. Then there’d be an explanation for our improvement.
I don’t know, Jetta, Jahx told her, taking giant bites of his meat roll. We’re doing okay now. We could ride it out a bit longer and take the prep exam in two years.
“Two years?” Jetta exclaimed. She put her utensils down and lowered her voice. “We can’t wait that long. I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to be.”
“We could always flunk out,” Jaeia said.
“But they would send us back to Fiorah. We can’t go back there,” Jetta replied.
“No, we can’t go back,” Jahx whispered, setting down his drink. A look of puzzlement flitted across his face, and on its heels, terror.
“Look, can’t we—”
Just as Jetta started to press her agenda, Rogman, Commandant of the Academy, entered the mess hall with soldiers in specialized uniforms flanking each shoulder. It wasn’t unusual for teachers to visit the mess hall, but she felt her brother’s anxiety spike. She looked over at Jahx and saw the line of concern across his forehead.
“What?” Jetta whispered. But Jahx remained silent, eyes trained on the new teacher, mind out of reach.
“Attention! We have an announcement to make,” Rogman barked.
“Why is he here?” Jetta overheard someone say. She looked around and saw the confusion on the other students’ faces. Jaeia nudged her. Something isn’t right.
“There has been a change in policy regarding the Endgame competition,” Rogman said. “It is now open to students of all levels. The overall winner at the end of this semester will be awarded the honorary rank of junior captain and acceptance into our officer training corps.”
“What’s the Endgame?” Jaeia whispered.
One of the other students overheard her and snorted. “Only the most important test of your command skills. Or in your case, lack of skill.”
Jahx grabbed Jetta’s arm as she whipped around to confront the student. Just leave it be.
Jetta grumbled and watched as the Commandant posted a signature and datareel code on the wall.
“Additionally,” Rogman said, “the winner will be awarded a three day shore leave and fulltime access to the game room.”
The second he left, students rushed for the front of the room. Soon everyone in the cafeteria crowded around the posting—everyone but the three of them.
“I don’t like it,” Jahx whispered.
“I agree,” Jaeia replied.
Jetta watched the other students hurriedly file out of the mess hall. “They must be off to play that game. Whatever it is.”
“Come on, let’s go back to the bunks and study. I’m through eating anyway,” Jaeia said, dumping her tray.
Jetta readied to leave when a hand gripped her shoulder. “Student, to my office, now.”
Turning slowly, Jetta met midnight eyes and a hardened face without laugh lines. Despite Rogman’s human appearance, Jetta could not glean any psionic reading. Instead, she saw the machinations of the Dominion Core in his perfectly trimmed mustache and his chest full of service decorations.
Soldiers with silver-sealed eyes stood a few meters back from Rogman, watching Jetta and her siblings. Eyes that could see more than just the beads of sweat collecting on her brow, but read her rising body temperature, the way her toes curled in her boots—
Don’t be afraid, Jahx said, reaching out across their bond. They may have infrared vision and can see through walls, but they can’t see through you.
Jetta released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
I’ll meet up with you in the barracks. Don’t worry, Jetta whispered silently to her siblings, but both Jaeia and Jahx stayed present in her mind long after she, Rogman and the soldiers left the mess hall.
Neither Rogman nor the soldiers spoke as they boarded the lift. Cautiously, Jetta tried to probe their minds for even a hint of information, but a tightly knitted minds repelled her back.
How is this possible? she wondered.
A voice from within answered: (They’ve been trained against telepathic intrusion.)
But if they have their guard up, she thought, that means they know about me. That means—
Jetta held her breath until sh
e thought she would faint. Gripping the railing of the lift, she forced herself to breathe. With each exhalation she buried the thought a little deeper.
One of the soldiers stopped the lift when they reached double doors at the end of a sterile, windowless corridor. Commandant Rogman, Chief of Military Acquisitions, was affixed above the control panel for the doors. Jetta had never been in this part of the Academy before.
It stinks like disinfectants, she thought, rubbing the medicinal sting out of her nose.
The soldiers showed Jetta into Rogman’s office, and directed her to a chair facing a desk. She found the room sparsely decorated, with only a picture of the Sovereign and a display of war medals to lend color to the grey walls. The partition sectioning off the latter half of the room looked out of place, and the low lighting and intense humidity levels conflicted with Rogman’s otherwise strict adherence to military protocol.
Although she couldn’t be certain, Jetta sensed that someone—or something—lurked behind the partition.
What is that? she wondered, repulsed by the unnatural feel of the psionic vibrations.
Rogman excused the soldiers before locking the doors and closing the blinds. He took a seat behind the desk, sitting ramrod straight in his chair.
“Cadet Jetta Drachsi,” he said, looking her over. “I have been monitoring your progress since your arrival on Dominion grounds. I have to say I am thoroughly disappointed.”
“My apologies, Sir. I will study harder.”
The smile that touched the man’s lips vanished with a twitch of his mustache.
“The teachers believe you and your siblings lack the proper motivation to reach your full potential. I am here to motivate you.”
The concern of her siblings mounted in the back of her mind as they sensed her fear. I have to control myself, she thought, trying to calm down.
Rogman wrinkled his nose again before he spoke. “Do you think any soldier would knowingly follow a human born and bred on Fiorah?”
Anger constricted Jetta’s chest. She exhaled slowly and tried to let his words pass through her.
“In the Starways, Fiorahians are hardly considered Sentients, and unregistered humans are even lower than Fiorahians. Your kind are either streetwalkers or trade meal. Tell me, why are we wasting our time on you?”
Jetta tried to think of her siblings, but the fires of her anger spread with every breath. “You’re not wasting your time, Sir.”
“Well, that’s odd, because according to this,” he said, plucking a datapad from his front pocket, “all three of you are maintaining average grades. We only select the top twenty-five percent of each class to move on to the next level. The rest get sent to the front lines. Did you know that?”
“No, Sir, I did not.”
“Well then,” Rogman said, rising and circling the desk, “in case the threat of becoming cannon fodder isn’t enough, I’ll make things more interesting for you.”
Jetta gripped the arms of the chair as he crouched down in front of her. The hot stink of his breath reminded her of Yahmen.
“All three of you will finish in the top three ranks during the next Endgame competition. No one would ever follow a losing Deadskin commander from Fiorah. If you want to stay, you will have to prove yourselves. You will have to be the best.” His mustache twitched again, revealing a sneer.
I will tear that stupid mustache off your face! “Yes, Sir. I understand.”
As Jetta left the office, she could have sworn she heard metal grating on metal, like a rusted engine struggling against itself. When she turned around, she only saw the commandant closing the doors to his office.
“Tomorrow morning do not report to your classes. I want to see you and your siblings in the game room or I will terminate your candidacy. Dismissed.”
Jetta assured him of her compliance and boarded the lift back to the bunks. Now there is no question of danger, she realized. The Core is monitoring us closely, and something else—something strange—is going on.
WHEN SHE RETURNED TO the barracks, she found Jaeia and Jahx on her lower bunk, watching a newsreel on one of their datapads.
“Dissemblers are a hidden enemy—know who you are dealing with. Register all telepaths; bring them in to your local Core embassy for screening. Protect your children. Protect your home. Protect your life,” the newscaster said.
Jahx shut it off as soon as Jetta sat next to him. “They’re broadcasting more and more of these warnings.”
Jaeia whispered, “The Core is making it sound like all telepaths are like Dissemblers. They’re getting fired from their jobs, kicked out of their homes. I don’t get it. We have to figure out what the Core is trying to do.”
“What happened?” Jahx asked, turning toward her.
Jetta couldn’t find the words to tell them. When her siblings saw her face, they immediately reached out to touch her thoughts.
Jahx sighed. “At least we’ll have complete access to the terminals in the game room. It’d be our best chance at hacking the mainframe.”
“Shore leave would be nice, too,” Jaeia added quietly. “We could see Galm, maybe even Lohien.”
“Alright—so you two are onboard?” Jetta asked.
“I don’t know how we’re going to do it, Jetta. We’ve never even played the Endgame—and the only way to top some of the older kids’ scores is to have a flawless record for the next month,” Jaeia said. She switched topics for a moment as a Stempton and his friends walked past their bunks on the way to the lavatories. One of his cronies pretended to trip over Jetta’s foot, elbowing her in the temple before catching himself.
“Watch yourself,” Jahx gently cautioned the boy, pulling Jetta out of the way as he came back around.
“Sorry—didn’t see the rat on the bed,” the boy said. Stempton gave her a wink.
“Only for you, dear brother,” Jetta said, gritting her teeth and allowing the ratchakker and his friends to walk away laughing.
“Come on, look at this with me. It seems complicated,” Jahx said, pointing to the educational database on a datapad. He scrolled through a description of the gameplay and instructions for the Endgame. “It’s played on a multidimensional field using hundreds of game pieces. In fact, it’s a fairly accurate model of the war globe the Dominion Core uses. The only difference is that they’ve disabled the voice command feature for interschool competitions.”
“Well,” Jetta said, flopping back on the pillow, “we’ll have to do it the way we did things on Fiorah.”
“Yeah...” Jaeia and Jahx replied.
“But with a new trick or two,” Jetta realized aloud. She continued on through their psionic connection. We can’t just reuse someone else’s smarts.
Her siblings nodded in agreement. Fixing a broken coolant loop on a drill ship didn’t require much more than stealing knowledge from the right technician. Defeating an opponent on a battlefield went beyond gleaning from experienced players. They couldn’t steal imagination and they couldn’t steal instincts, two skills that played a bigger role in battle than anything else.
Closing her eyes and curling her legs up to her belly, Jetta wished back their life on Fiorah. I could just kill Yahmen when he got too drunk and passed out, and then none of this would be necessary.
No, Jahx said, soothing her tension. We can do this. I’ll be just like old times; we’ve always been able to figure things out together.
An unnamable fear sent her heart into a flutter, making the breath catch in her chest. In that moment, Jetta looked back and forth between her siblings, wanting to remember every last detail of their faces.
“I hope you’re right,” Jetta whispered.
THE MORE TIME SHE SPENT playing the Endgame, the more Jetta understood why the non-telepaths hated telepaths so vehemently. She had been right to assume it would take more than appropriating her opponent’s knowledge to win, but she hadn’t anticipated what would happen when the three of them were pitted against a single mind. Even though only one of them worked
the gaming console, the other two could silently assist from the stands.
This is the first time the universe has ever given us a chance, Jetta thought as she and her siblings entered the game room. Newbies and veterans alike crowded around the different battle sims. Their faces, bathed in restless holographic light, seemed to belong to shifting ghosts. One second scarlet, the next azure. In a nearby console, a warship exploded in a golden flash, illuminating hungry eyes and gaping mouths.
On Fiorah, working together had been nothing more than a survival technique to keep them useful to Yahmen. Since most Sentients could sense some degree of invasive psionic activity, they each divided up the desired skill set they needed to learn so they weren’t dwelling in anyone’s head too long.
But as each of them entered the ranks of the Endgame, Jetta came to realize that even back then they had been sharing more than their stolen knowledge to fix broken-down mining ships—they had been using a combined perspective. Jetta remembered how she used her siblings’ eyes to see new ways to solve old problems with one of the phasnoic drill heads that constantly failed. Jaeia immediately matched her own interpretation of the malfunction against Jetta’s and narrowed down the solution to two choices. And Jahx, using both of his sisters’ knowledge and perspectives, uncovered the crux of the problem and selected the right method to fix the rig. With that they had saved a ship—and saved themselves from being sold on the Underground Block.
However, solving complex engineering problems on mining ships did not compare to facing a live opponent who could adapt to their borrowed strategies and react to their maneuvers.
I’m going to have to dig deeper if I’m going to get in the top fifty, Jetta thought, eyeing the scoreboard on the far wall of the game room.
Somehow, through the thunderclash of sound and sizzling lightshow, Stempton zeroed in on her the second she and her siblings stepped into the main arena. His eyes lit up like some kind of animal spotting its prey.
“No way,” he said, approaching them with a slow swagger. “I can’t believe you’d even show your faces in here, ratchakkers.”
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