“The way you handled Apha Edenta’s slip was worthy of even an Ichthyothian diver.”
Worthy of even an Ichthyothian diver? This was the Ichthyothian Diving Fleet—who else was I supposed to perform like? A flicker of anxiety and anger coursed through my hair as I realized what those words meant: he expected less from us newbies. From me. What I did today was nothing special for a real diver.
“Thank you, sir,” I answered in Ichthyothian, hoping he couldn’t see how his words really made me feel. Lechatelierite took me from exhilarated to irritated in about three seconds flat.
He didn’t take his dangerous, silver-grey eyes off my face. There was a long pause in which neither of us blinked. I was becoming too tired to draw breath. I just wanted to hit the barracks and pass out.
“Am I dismissed, sir?” I asked in a small voice.
“How many times did you use magic, today?” he asked, suddenly.
I felt slapped. He didn’t think I could dive decently without spectral help?
“Only once, sir.” It felt weird to explain this to someone. To my Nordic Commander, of all people. “I used my hair to strengthen my hold on Edenta as I pulled him to safety.”
Lechatelierite nodded. “Could you’ve done so without it?”
“I think so, sir.” I finally resigned to speaking Nurian, too tired to think of the Ichthyothian words anymore. “I only used it for reinforcement, as an extra precaution.”
“Sit,” he ordered stiffly, gesturing to his desk chair.
There was only one seat in the room. So, I would sit in it and he would… what, stand over me? Talk down to me? His penetrating eyes already made me feel small enough, like an amoeba under a microscope. Moreover, it felt disrespectful to address my commander while sitting.
Well, it’s not like I had a choice. Orders were orders. I sat.
“We need to discuss your powers and how we can make optimal use of them without exposing your heritage to our comrades or to the enemy.”
He watched me expectantly, folding his arms across his chest and raising his eyebrows slightly. It was like an enormous spotlight turned on above my head. What to say? Where to begin? I fixed my eyes on the triangular emblem on his chest, unable to endure his drilling stare any longer.
“Speak,” he demanded. “I’m not that frightening, am I?” He tried to sound lighthearted, but it came out all wrong. For once, he didn’t have complete control over his tone.
I lifted my chin and forced myself to look at his face. The face of the man who didn’t know I’d witnessed the greatest failure and pain of his life. Through the spectral web, I invaded his privacy, feeing his guilt and hearing his dying thoughts as if they were my own. For some reason, this made me feel like a traitor. Like I stole from him. Violated him. I didn’t want to have his secrets in my head. Not ones he didn’t volunteer himself. Not that he’d ever willingly confide in me…
And, I still didn’t know what to say. I was paralyzed by exhaustion, not to mention the anxiety of being put on the spot by the man whose opinion I valued most in the world.
Lechatelierite sat on the edge of his bed, clasped his hands and leaned forward. Trying to get down to my level and come across as more approachable, perhaps? I wished it was working, but my nerves weren’t exactly cooled by his coming closer. He was barely two feet from me, now.
“You’re the first eye mage, correct?” he asked, sharply.
“Yes, sir.”
“And, that’s why your people exiled you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How exactly did that play out?”
I looked at him in tired disbelief. Was he really going to make me relive the worst day of my life, now?
“Sir, I already shared the important parts, during my interrogation.”
Oh, Tincture, did I really just say that? Fatigue was making me snappy.
“It came out too fast and scrambled. I need details.”
This was a conversation I didn’t want to have. Especially with him. Talking about the day I was orphaned and deported would sound like I was inviting pity. I didn’t want him to feel sorry for the poor, little girl. I wanted him to respect me. To think highly of me. To believe I was just as strong and capable as all the other big men in his fleet.
“I understand this may be difficult to talk about.” His words were kind but his voice was hard. “But, I need to know. I care to know.”
Oh, he cared, did he? Now, I was really getting angry. We could easily discuss the extent of my powers without speaking a single word about July twenty-fifth. He didn’t need to know anything more about that day besides what I already shared during my interrogation. He only wanted to know, and certainly not because he cared, but so he could psycho-analyze me and figure out if my baggage would impede his use of me in battle. I was a tool for him to manipulate, nothing more. It would’ve been better if he owned up to that rather than feigning concern.
“Come on, Scarlet, talk to me,” he said, all prior awkwardness in his voice now masterfully replaced with that dangerous, hypnotic, convicting persuasiveness I couldn’t resist.
I also noticed he called me by my first name. He usually addressed his subordinates by our last names, or as ‘soldier,’ or even by our numbers. But, to him, I was Scarlet.
“This is all off the record,” he went on, authoritative and magnetic tone overtaking me, though his face was still completely deadpan. “I’m not writing anything down or adding to your file or reporting a word to anyone; I just want to learn about you. Because you’re unique and talented. I don’t praise often, so listen up: your test scores and performance caught my eye from the start. You’re someone I could potentially see myself and this fleet depending on, in the months and ages to come. But, we can’t get to that point until I gain a better understanding of who you are, where you’ve been. So, Scarlet, either talk to me now, or handicap this fleet.”
I could hardly breathe. Was it true? He saw potential in me from the get-go? He thought I was talented? Someone he could rely on? Trust his men with?
Or, was this all just more manipulation to get me to reveal my vulnerabilities so he could cast me aside?
He watched with fierce alertness as I found myself spilling my entire, tragic life story—everything from my Christening Ceremony when I was an infant; to my Circle Trial at six; to the day my family died and I was deported at ten; to how I survived on the streets of Alcove City for five ages, counting coins, eating out of dumpsters and studying day and night; to when I enlisted in the military, hoping to be picked for the Diving Academy so I could ultimately meet him…
I left out the part about my vision of his battle loss and my secret presence at the Nurro-Ichthyothian Alliance Conference.
When I was finished, a long pause ensued. Cease’s severe face hadn’t changed the entire time I spoke. He managed to absorb every word without revealing a single thought or emotion.
Oddly enough, I now felt more comfortable in his presence. I normally would’ve hated being so exposed. But, to my surprise, I didn’t mind Cease broke my guard down. He was the first person I’d opened up to, since Fair. As frightening as it was, there was something refreshing about finally being real with someone.
“I’ve studied the files of all the Nurians,” Cease finally spoke up, “and, from what I gather, none of them have seen a real fight before. Not like you. Not a fight for their lives. An experience like that really gives you a sense of your own mortality.”
“You’d know a little about that yourself, wouldn’t you, sir?” I said, to my own disbelief.
“Yes, I would,” he said, voice suddenly hard.
Did I cross a line? I just spilled my guts to him, and he was offended by that? It wasn’t even a real question. He was the Leader of the Ichthyothian Resistance, for Tincture’s sake; of course he’d know what it’s like to fight for his life! It didn’t take a military genius to figure that.
“The others will have to learn the hard way,” Cease continued. “Their first time really
feeling unsafe—knowing someone is out for your blood—will be in battle.”
“Did you know what it’s like, sir?” I spurted, against my better judgment. “Before becoming a diver, I mean. Did you ever have to fight for your life when you were a civilian?” Now, I knew I was pushing the envelope. I kicked myself, internally.
Cease blinked. “I was never a civilian.”
It figured he’d say something like that; Colonel Austere always emphasized the importance of letting go of the past and considering our military service as the only life we should focus on, from here on out. Even so, Cease’s evasiveness frustrated me. We just spent the last hour or so discussing the past, so clearly, we were ignoring the taboo against ‘dwelling,’ for the time being. I told him absolutely everything about mine, yet he wouldn’t answer one ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question about his? Ugh, for Tincture’s sake!
“Is something the matter?” Cease asked, sharply.
What? How could he tell? I thought I was keeping my face straight. Then again, Cease was clearly above-average at picking up on subtleties.
“No, sir, not at all.”
“Yes, there is,” he insisted, and my pulse quickened. “Do you have a problem with the way my country trains its soldiers?”
What in the world was he talking about? “No, sir, of course not.”
“Does it bother you I was never a civilian?”
Wait, what? I stared, flabbergasted.
Now, it was Cease’s turn to look surprised; I saw a slight shift in his eyes.
“So, you don’t know,” he said, quietly.
“Don’t know what, sir?” I piped, voice barely above a whisper.
I was already beginning to figure it out, but I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t. I refused to believe something so horrible was possible. Ichthyosis was supposed to be the pinnacle of the ‘civilized’ world. Abducting infants into the military sounded like something that’d happen in Conflagria, where the System reined. Not here.
“About the Childhood Program.”
All the air disappeared from my lungs. So, it was true. His answer wasn’t evasive, it was literal.
“I’ve always been a soldier, Scarlet,” he said, spreading his arms. “This has always been my home. My comrades always been my family.” What exactly would the word ‘family’ even mean to him? “And, this,” he touched the emblem on his right chest pocket, “has always been my life’s direction. That’s how things work, around here. When a son is born, the military decides if they want him, and the ones they choose grow up on a base.”
I thought back to Cease’s last, fleeting moments of consciousness during his lost battle. I heard what he believed were his dying thoughts. He felt guilty, more than anything else, for failing to see the war through. Nothing else—no loving images of real family, no desperate prayers or silent good-byes—flashed through his mind before he passed out. He thought of only his duty.
“No,” I breathed. “Sir, I thought I was leaving tyranny behind when I was deported from Conflagria. How could you—you Ichthyothians—do something so terrible as to abduct newborns and transform them into—” And, my voice abruptly died in my throat.
“What?” Cease demanded loudly, silver-grey eyes flashing. “Turn them into what?”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer: “Into you! They turn you into fighting machines with no emotion, no personality, no diversity of thought or ambition! Even on First Earth, civilized western nations waited until men were adults before throwing them in the line of fire! Ichthyosis is committing an awful crime—a crime worthy of the System—by taking entire generations and depriving them of lives and childhoods and turning them into angry, unfeeling, factory-produced soldiers like you!”
Cease’s face was expressionless. I’d just committed the greatest act of disrespect imaginable: I attacked my commander personally and insulted his nation. The nation I was supposedly willing to die for. And, what was Cease’s reaction? Nothing. Come to think of it, I’d never seen Cease exhibit any emotion besides anger. I’d assumed, since I met him, he was hiding his real personality behind a tough exterior shell, to stay strong for his fleet. I had no idea he didn’t have a shell at all, but was hardened throughout. Maybe there once was a real Cease Lechatelierite, but the Childhood Program killed him.
He still hadn’t responded to me. His face was set, eyes staring off in that paradoxically intense yet unfocused gaze. My words, even if they were true, were cruel and unwarranted. I felt guilty and ashamed. And, I desperately wanted a reaction from him. A reaction besides rage. Something to prove me wrong, to prove my harsh judgment wasn’t right. Come on, Cease, I thought. Act hurt from what I said. Show me a softer side. Prove to me you’re human, after all.
“Cease?” I whispered.
At the sound of his name, his eyes shot through mine like bullets.
“I wasn’t aware we were on a first-name basis, soldier.” His voice chilled the already-frigid air. “Attention!”
I popped out of his seat.
“This conversation is over. Get the hell out of my quarters, now!” he ordered, tone loaded with unadulterated fury.
My worst fears were confirmed; all the humanity was beaten out of Lechatelierite long before I’d ever met him.
I saluted and ran from his room.
Cease Lechatelierite
I threw my door shut, sat on the edge of my bed and put my head in my hands, wondering what in the world to make of the conversation I just had with Scarlet July, already the most peculiar and intriguing comrade I ever had. In one sitting, she went from being scared silent, to pouring out every detail of her crazy life, to brazenly insulting me and the program that made me who I was today. And, as I listened to her speak her myriad of thoughts, I was startled to find myself interested, not just because I wanted to learn how to best exploit her talents, but because…well, because I was interested. In her. In who she was. In how and why she came to be the way she was. In how her crazy past cultivated such an eclectic assortment of gifts and personality traits. Not just so I could use her, but for her sake. I was fascinated by her person. And, that frightened me. I didn’t usually feel that way about anyone. I wasn’t supposed to. I only remembered being genuinely interested in a person once before, when I first befriended Inexor. But, my draw to Inexor never got as intense as my draw to Scarlet was now, for two main reasons. Firstly, there was the obvious fact that Inexor was a guy and Scarlet was a very attractive woman. Secondly, Scarlet’s story was simply more captivating than Inexor’s. Upon first meetings, there was simply less to learn about Inexor than there was to learn about Scarlet. Less to hold my attention. Having grown up on base, Inexor’s past could never really surprise me—there wasn’t much he experienced that I hadn’t. And, as the ages went on, our conversations grew more and more impersonal. Our friendship mostly revolved around work. It started off focused on work, too: when I was seven and he was eleven, we were lab partners in physics class. And, when he discovered how horrible I was doing in Nurian, he offered to tutor me. I learned later he didn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart, either. I already had a prestigious reputation and he figured it’d be a smart career move to get close to me while we were still students. He set out to befriend me for self-advancement. And, he wound up getting what he was wanted, in the end; he ultimately became my second-in-command.
Presently, I had the admiration, respect and fear of everyone in my fleet, but not friendship. Nor did I want it. I learned my lesson, after losing Inexor. The Trilateral Committee was right to create the Laws of Emotional Protection, and I was going to obey them from now on. The emotions friendship entailed weakened militancy. I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t afford to carry the baggage of ‘attachment’ to anyone, ever again. Everyone I worked with here was a soldier, which meant their lives were expendable. Who’d be so foolish as to attach to an expendable resource? Inexor disobeyed orders and abandoned his task force to save my life, not because it was the smart or logical thing to do, but because
he was attached to me. Because he wanted to save his friend. And, look where that got him.
Inexor was the only one in the fleet to ever call me by my first name. It distinguished our relationship. Since Inexor got reduced to a handful of frozen ashes in the sea, I hadn’t heard my first name alone issue from anyone’s lips. Until Scarlet came along. She called me Cease, asked personal questions and seemed to care too much about the way the Childhood Program ‘damaged’ me. So, I had to consider the possibility she was also feeling tempted to blur boundaries.
My draw to Scarlet threatened my way of life. It threatened my ability to function rationally and do my job as I was raised to do. And, if the attraction was at all mutual, which I had some reason to suspect, it was twice as dangerous. I had to nip it in the bud. I couldn’t talk with Scarlet alone like that again, unless absolutely necessary. I needed to avoid any further interpersonal communication until I was positive I could do it without being plagued by that dangerous sense of intrigue.
Muscles stiff and tense, I forced myself to lie down on my bed. Scarlet July was a fool to think I could be just ‘Cease’ with her, or anyone, ever again.
Scarlet July
The weeks wore on and spring dissolved into summer. Today was July seventh, my sixteenth birthday and the warmest day I experienced in Ichthyosis, thus far. It was thirty-two degrees.
We were scheduled for ‘ice-surface’ practice, all morning. In the afternoon, we would train with Lechatelierite underwater, for the first time. He finally made a full recovery.
Of course, Lechatelierite’s return to the sea was reason enough for us Nurians to get jittery and for the Ichthyothians to scoff at us. The Ichthyothians were so cold, so calculating. Their scrutiny and callousness reminded of the System mages. But, they were still able to banter and chat with us, on occasion. The only one who didn’t was Lechatelierite. I’d never seen him crack a smile.
Lechatelierite. He and I hadn’t spoken in six weeks, not since our talk that went horribly wrong. I endured six solid weeks of being completely ignored by the person whose opinion I valued most on Second Earth. He didn’t even look at me. It was weird. When we stood at attention and he paced up and down our line, his gaze always slid right over my head and to the face of the next man. Whenever we passed in the corridors and I saluted him with a solemn, “Commander, sir,” he responded with a curt nod, eyes elsewhere. It was agonizing, to face him day after day, knowing we both knew secrets about each other but had no relationship whatsoever. As weeks passed, my fear of him only grew. These days, I was surprised I ever felt comfortable enough around him to let my guard down, even for a moment. A week from today, he would choose the best Nurians to join the ranks of the Ichthyothian unit leaders. The night he called me to his quarters, he said he could see himself leaning on me someday, putting his fleet in my hands. Not anymore, I’d bet. I had no hope of being promoted, now.
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