Blue Sky Tomorrows

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “Really? As future commanders of the Sovereign’s great fleet?”

  “Y-yeah,” Cam said, unsure why he phrased it in such a way.

  “Why?”

  Cam thought of Jahx, his unusual feat of avoiding wins and losses, of Jetta’s tactical prowess in the training arena, of Jaeia’s highly attuned observational skills. “There’s something more to them, sir.”

  “Something more to them?”

  Verdebear flinched. Sensing himself in dangerous territory, Cam backtracked. “Yeah, um, it’s not something that regular academics shows.”

  “Then how, cadet, would you suggest eliciting these yet unseen skills?”

  Cam bit his lip and averted his eyes, trying to get away from Rogman’s dark gaze.

  “Come now, cadet,” Rogman said, punctuating each word with an air of disdain, “show me how well you understand your enemy.”

  But Jahx isn’t—

  (You know what he is!)

  “Or,” Rogman said, revealing a sickle of stark-white teeth, “are you unfit for your duty?”

  (Kara!)

  “The Endgame,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth. He tipped forward, holding on to the edge of the mattress with all his strength. “That game the older kids compete in. Make it open to the entire Academy.”

  “And?”

  Cam sucked in his breath, remembering Jahx’s fear: “I don’t want to win; I just don’t want to get iced out.”

  “It has to be their ticket—up the ranks or out.”

  With another twitch of his mustache, the sickle-smile vanished. “So shall it be, then.”

  (What did I just do?)

  Cam glanced at Verdebear. The doctor, still cowering behind Rogman, locked eyes with him for just a moment. In that fraction of a second, stresses that whittled deep furrows into his brow came to light, as did the strains that creased the corners of his lips.

  Why is he so afraid?

  (WHAT DID I JUST DO?)

  “Dr. Verdebear will take care of your discharge arrangements,” Rogman said, nodding to the doctor. “I will expect your continued reports on the other students as you participate.”

  Cam’s stomach dropped. I can’t compete in the Endgame.

  He hadn’t had the training, let alone the time to figure out the controls.

  Chak, who am I kidding? I’m not even smart enough even if I did. Cam flexed his left hand, eliciting a sharp twinge in his forearm, underneath the bandaging.

  That dream—

  (Or was it real?)

  No, the cryoxotin causes hallucinations—

  —But the excruciating pain, the look on Reppen’s face, the machine man—

  “What’s… What in the East Wing?” he blurted.

  Rogman scoffed. “The East Wing?”

  “I need to see,” Cam whispered. If Rogman wouldn’t show him, it would confirm his fears, but if he did and he saw that thing—

  (Kara—what have I done?)

  “Alright, cadet.” Rogman walked to the door and then turned around, an expectant look upon his face. “Well?”

  Verdebear offered him a hand as Cam got out of bed, the usual electric zaps from his aggravated nerves charging up his feet and legs. Keeping the pain out of his face, he followed behind Rogman, heart beating against his sternum. Nothing. It’s going to be nothing, and I’ll feel like a fool.

  Only a kid would believe anything so dumb, he thought, continuing to admonish himself as the nurses and techs they passed by in the hallway gave their trio side-long glances. They’re just nightmares. I need to focus on getting out of here, passing class, the Endgame—finding Kara—

  “Here you are, cadet,” Rogman said, opening the isolation doors with his keycard.

  Cam stood in the middle of the parted double-doors of the east wing, staring down the hallway he remembered so vividly from his—

  (nightmare?)

  This isn’t the same.

  A hallway and transparent surgical suite stood before him, well-lit and smelling of cleansers. No Reppen, no patient strapped to the table, no sign of machine monsters or foul play. Just a lone housekeeper bot mopping and drying the floors, green lights flashing across its spherical body as it hummed down the sparkling hallway.

  Rogman clicked his tongue, his mustache twitching. “Satisfied?”

  I’m a fool.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Doctor,” Rogman said, addressing the silent Verdebear before parting ways. “You have your orders.”

  “Yes, Commandant.”

  As Cam turned to follow the doctor back to his room, he caught sight of a blemish in the floor near a corner. A dark streak, something the automated bot could easily miss near a tight angle. Cam paused and squinted. Not blemish, more like a—

  Gouge. As if something very large and heavy cut into the floor.

  It could have been a cart, or some other machine—

  (MACHINE)

  “Please, Cam,” Doctor Verdebear said, voice halting, feeble. He motioned for him to hurry, his eyes darting back and forth from down the East Wing hallway to Cam’s face. “It’s time to go.”

  Cam followed him back to his room, a pitting feeling in his stomach. Still, as the doctor went over his discharge protocol, and what to expect, he could only think of the gouge mark.

  “Take it easy—and if you’re hurting, take these pills,” the doctor said, setting down a reddish bottle on the tray table.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cam picked up the bottle and inspected the contents, then pushed it aside. “No, thanks; I don’t want to hallucinate.”

  The doctor looked up from his datapad. “About that…” His eyes flicked to the doorway, then the monitors. “…these won’t to do that. But I can understand keeping your wits. You’ll need that for what’s next.”

  “Huh?”

  “The Endgame. You’re very smart picking that as an evaluation tool. It’s the toughest challenge in the Academy.”

  For whatever reason, the doctor’s comment rankled him. “I didn’t want to do that,” he muttered. How the hell will I ever compete? I’ll get kicked out within a week.

  “Rogman is very interested in you because of how you see problems. I hope you take that to heart.”

  Cam frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” Again, the doctor checked the doorway, then the monitors. “I mean just take it easy, cadet. Don’t push yourself.”

  Cam flexed his feet and his toes, the burn traveling up his legs. Thinking of Jahx, of his sister—the Endgame—

  (it’s all my fault)

  —he ground his fists into the mattress and steeled his voice. “I don’t have a choice.”

  Chapter 19

  “Cam!”

  Before Cam could take more than a few steps inside the barracks, a lanky figure with long, wiry arms wrapped around him and squeezed.

  “I was so worried.”

  Blowing away the mess of red hair in his face, Cam gave Tomia a stiff pat on the back, then removed himself from her hug. His skin ached where she’d squeezed, but he didn’t dare show any signs of discomfort. She’s okay—

  (Maybe it was all a hallucination.)

  “I’m fine,” Cam said, not wanting to draw the attention of the kids milling around their bunks. Dressed in a fresh-pressed school uniform, he was hoping he would blend in, but the whispers and the stares indicated otherwise.

  Stepping back from her, Tomia surveyed him from head to toe, worry and relief in her eyes. “You were gone for so long.”

  “Sorry,” he said, heat climbing up his cheeks.

  Tomia followed him to his bunk but waited to say anything else until he got to his locker and checked on his things.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered as he rifled through his datapads and alternate training uniform.

  Exhausted, but not wanting to show her how much effort it took just to keep up the conversation, he leaned against his locker. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “I… I wanted to
visit you,” Tomia said. Wringing her hands, she looked at her feet. “I don’t know where the time went.”

  Cam shrugged his shoulders, then realized her phrasing: “I don’t know where the time went.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Tomia shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I feel like one minute, I’d be in class, the next, back in my bunk, fully dressed, on top of my sheets.”

  Under any other circumstances, Cam would have dismissed her, chalking her complaint up to stress. But not with what he remembered—

  Hallucinated—that’s what the Commandant said—

  Cam pressed his knuckles into his eyes, not wanting to take in Tomia’s pale complexion, or the fatigue etched in her face. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Did you see Iggie?” she asked.

  Cam sucked in his breath. “In the infirmary?”

  “Yes—she’s been gone for days now. I don’t know where she is,” Tomia said, pointing to the undisturbed bottom bunk across from them.

  “What do the teachers say?” Cam asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Nothing,” she whispered back.

  Cam’s sleeve beeped. Turning over his arm, he read the alert: You are now eligible for Endgame matches.

  Misreading his frown as confusion, Tomia explained: “You missed the Commandant’s speech in mess hall today. They’re opening up the Endgame competition to all levels. It’s going to be a blood bath.”

  Cam closed out the message and tried to act unaffected. “Whatever.”

  She guffawed as he crawled up to his bed and laid down. Climbing up part way, she nudged his shoulder as he closed his eyes. “How can you be so casual about any of this?”

  “Any of what?”

  Tomia leaned in. “Iggie’s gone. My memory gaps. They kept you for weeks, Cam. That isn’t normal. Didn’t you see—or experience—anything weird?”

  The paranoia in her voice alerted other students. A few stared, others quieted their own conversations to listen in.

  “Check yourself,” Cam muttered under his breath.

  “No,” she said, slapping him on the forearm. For a split second, as her wrist popped out of her sleeve, he spotted a horizontal scar he hadn’t noticed before.

  Catching her arm, took a closer look. “Where did you get this?”

  Tomia blushed and yanked it back. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t know. I’ve got several more marks like that, and I have no clue how they got there.”

  Cam pushed up the sleeve on his left forearm. A similar scar laid over where the medication line used to be. When he touched it, he felt a rectangular mass just beneath the surface, as if attached to his bone. What did they do to me?

  “I’m scared, Cam,” she whispered. “All the time, now. I’m scared to sleep. There’s a monster in my dreams.”

  A chill ran up his spine and he turned over onto his side to face her. “What kind of monster?”

  “Hey, loser—you’re back.”

  Cam looked over Tomia’s shoulder. Stempton. The freckle-faced boy approached with Walli and Hoch in tow, violence in his eyes.

  “Go,” he whispered to Tomia.

  “No, I can’t leave you—”

  Cam put his hand on her shoulder, applying gentle pressure to get her off of the bunk ladder. “I said, go.”

  Tomia shot him a hurt expression before sliding down and heading the opposite way, toward the lavatories.

  “They finally fix your broken pusa?” he laughed, substituting his native slang for a Common derogative.

  Cam ignored the insult, tracking the way the three moved together, and how the other kids in the bunks dispersed. By Stempton’s rigid posture, Cam guessed he wasn’t coming in to just talk, especially when he had such a distinct advantage over Cam to leverage out whatever he wanted.

  “What the hell is with his skin?” Walli muttered, upturning his nose.

  Hoch chimed in: “Yeah—you stick your tongue in an electrical socket?”

  “I don’t have time for any of your gorsh-shit,” Cam said, sitting up on his top bunk and crossing his legs. “Get on with it.”

  “I thought we were partners for the chemistry research project,” Stempton said, standing at the bottom of the double-bunk. “Then I hear that you’re helping that dumb launnie. Thought you were smarter than the average rat, Ferros, but apparently not.”

  Instead of their usual braying, Walli and Hoch stayed close to Stempton, their gazes flicking back and forth, checking the peripheries.

  “Well, here’s your deal, rub,” he said flashing a red chip Cam’s way. “Once I put this in any console, the teachers are going to trace it back to your profile and find a lot of stolen homework and assignments in your folders.”

  Is that possible? He couldn’t be certain, not with his limited computer skills. Maybe Stempton cracked my profile while I was gone.

  Not that it really mattered as much as the reason behind it. Stempton is desperate to make me his grunt, he thought, but why me?

  Cam said nothing, waiting for the rest of the deal.

  Unable to get a rise out of him, Stempton continued, angrier than before: “But if you’re smart, you’ll do a favor for me, and you won’t get iced.”

  “Don’t you have enough scrubs to do your dirty work?”

  Walli and Hoch zeroed in on him with heated glares.

  “Certain wimps keep avoiding us. You can get close to them.”

  Certain wimps. Cam curled his toes, not wanting to guess at his targets. “I’m not your goddich thug.”

  “Well then what the hell are you? Cannon fodder?”

  The others laughed.

  “We all know you’re going to fail the Endgame competition, and your grades are smashed.”

  “Then what’s the point of helping you if I’m going to ice out anyway?”

  Stempton grinned, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. Holding up a blue-colored chip he said, “this is the stat hack. You can get yourself ranked as an average student with passing grades. A chakking phenomenal feat for a street rub. And, me, Walli and Hoch will make sure you win a few of your Endgame matches.”

  Stempton tossed the chip on Cam’s bed. “Figure it this way, rub: you’re not smart enough for any of this. Just do what I ask you, when I ask, and you won’t ice out. Yet.”

  After the trio left, Cam took the chip and inspected it. They had me three-to-one and they still didn’t attack, he thought, running his fingertip along the corrugated edges. He didn’t expect that, not with how they postured, or his weakened state.

  Then they’re still afraid of me. Cam stuffed the chip down his front pocket and laid back down with a heavy sigh. At least I still have that.

  Tomia popped back up on the ladder, her face close to his ear. “Cam.”

  “Look, Tomia—I don’t know what to say,” he said, closing his eyes as if he could escape the moment. “Nothing really makes sense to me right now.”

  “Are you still enrolled in gaming strategy?”

  He turned and faced her. “Yeah, so?”

  “Get me in the classroom. We can access the terminals.”

  Cam perked to her suggestion. Before, he didn’t have the resources or knowledge to circumvent the network firewalls and do an extensive search for his sister. And now he needed to know why Stempton wanted him to do his dirty work—and whom he intended for Cam to target.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked. “And how?”

  “I’m going to find out what’s going on here,” she said, eyes plastered open in a half-crazed stare, “by any means necessary. Any.”

  Thinking of the gouge in the east wing floor, of the ache in his forearm, he couldn’t deny her that need.

  Cam checked his sleeve. 2015. If he had any choice in the matter, he would have gone to sleep right then, and maybe for the next week. But not now. Not when I can finally get some answers.

  “Alright,” he said, ditching his jacket so he wouldn’t be live-traced.
Tomia did the same, tossing hers on her nearby bunk. “Let’s go.”

  After crawling out of bed, he followed her to the front of the barracks to catch a lift.

  “I don’t recognize half these kids,” he remarked as they passed by rows of new faces. Dressed only in his pants and t-shirt, the scars and blemishes that scored his skin snagged the eyes of the recent recruits. If he caught them staring, he met their eyes until they turned away.

  “Lots of changes happened while you were gone.”

  “Bunk reassignments?”

  She tightened her jaw. “That. And a lot of kids graduated or, I don’t know—just disappeared.”

  This is not the Tomia I remembered, he thought as she signaled for a lift and they got aboard. No longer cool and calm, she jumped at the slightest provocation, from a stray laugh or even a bump in the ride.

  “What about Jahx?” he said. Quickly, he tacked on, “and his sisters?”

  “They got transferred the same time as me and Iggie. I’m sharing a bunk with Jetta, and Iggie with Jaeia.”

  “That’s a risk,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “All the street rubbish stinking up the back of the barracks? You don’t see how you’ve made yourselves a target?”

  “Hey,” Tomia said, a hint of fire in her eye, “they’re not so bad. Not at least as bad as some of the assinos around here.”

  “That’s true. What about Jahx?” he asked as the lift took a sharp corner, nearly pitching the two of them off.

  “Didn’t you notice?” she chortled.

  “What?”

  “He’s your bunkmate. He even specifically asked to be your bunkmate for your return.”

  Butterflies tickled the inside of his stomach. Still, he didn’t disclose any hint of the excitement he felt. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so uptight,” Tomia said. “You’ve got a reputation. I don’t think anyone will be chakking with you or anyone in your immediate radius.”

  Cam blushed. “If they only knew…” he muttered.

  “Huh?” Tomia said.

  “Nothing.”

  As soon as the lift dropped them off in front of the gaming strategy classroom and Cam unlocked the doors with a wave of his hand, Tomia rushed inside.