One-hundred-ten tired, famished divers followed him to the pool and stood in a line at the edge.
“A few key things,” he began. “Tossers, the whole performance depends on the takeoff. Poor throwing technique can easily destroy in-flight coordination and extend post-flight disorientation. Flyers, don’t relax your muscles while in the air. Keep your head, neck and body erect. If you loosen up while airborne, you could easily pull or dislocate something. But, don’t go the opposite extreme either and hyper-extend or lock any of your joints. Catchers, you must be ready for the flyer’s momentum or you’ll be thrown on your backs. Redirect their velocity downward, bringing both of you neatly below the surface of the water. Don’t allow them to swim on their own until they’re oriented. With practice, the flyers will learn to reorient faster, so you shouldn’t have to hold on for too long.”
Lechatelierite strapped his helmet on and dove into the pool.
“Monitors on.” His voice activated the enormous, water-proof screens on the far wall, playing a live, underwater feed. “I’m going to play the roles of both tosser and catcher.” Lechatelierite’s penetrating eyes found me in the crowd. “July, you’re up.”
He wanted me for a demonstration? Why didn’t he get an Ichthyothian to do it? I was still learning, like all the other Nurians. How could I be the example?
My comrades watched intently as I made my way to the front. I stood at the edge of the pool and fumbled with the four fastenings on the back of my helmet. Lechatelierite waved impatiently, and I hastily dove in before securing the fourth latch.
Everything went smoothly until we emerged from the surface and my helmet went rocketing off my head while I spun. It soared across the room and collided with one of the screens, shattering it spectacularly. My face burned as Lechatelierite caught me. All eyes fixed on me like crosshairs as I hoisted myself from the pool and made the long, embarrassing trek to retrieve my helmet. I looked down at the floor as I walked.
Lechatelierite insisted on executing the move again.
This time, we pulled it off perfectly, and I managed to keep my suit intact. For once, I didn’t humiliate myself. And, I did it all without using a photon of spectrum.
Lechatelierite played the video of our second performance over and over in slow motion, explaining every move, twist and turn. Finally, two hours after our usual lights-out time, we were dismissed.
Trudging back to the barracks, it wasn’t long before I realized the Nurians were hanging back, keeping their distance. When I glanced at them, faces went deadpan and mumbles quieted. I closed my eyes and quickened my pace, suddenly upset.
They weren’t laughing at me or making fun of me for messing up, as I expected. They were…jealous? Of what?
Of course. I took down a Conflagrian vessel. I played a role in the real war while we were all still in training. I mastered the spin-toss and demoed it with the Commander himself, while they were still struggling to learn the motions it involved. Oh, Tincture. After all my hard work these past eight-and-a-half months to become one of the guys, I was alienated, again!
“Well, someone’s getting promoted tomorrow,” I heard Apha mutter from behind.
I never disagreed more. None of them knew how weird things really were between Lechatelierite and me. They had no clue how many times he caught me doing something stupid or insubordinate. Or, that he knew all my secrets and weaknesses. Or, that I once walked in on him in his crippled state. Or, that I insulted him and the country we were all risking our lives to defend.
I shed my diving suit in the locker-room, wrapped a towel around my body and waited until the coast was clear before heading for the showers—I was shy about lathering up around dozens of older guys. On the way, I dropped my washcloth, but before I could pick it up and tuck it back into my bath bag, Amok dove for it. I was surprised to see him; I thought everyone was already gone. It wasn’t easy to sneak up on an eye mage. But, I supposed, thinking about Lechatelierite was one way to get me really distracted and absent-minded…
“Why, here you go, Miss Bloodclot,” Amok said, as obnoxious and smarmy as ever.
I snatched it from him and kept walking.
“What, aren’t you going to thank the gentleman?” He tailed me.
“Buzz off, Kempt.”
“That’s Officer Kempt, sir, to you!” He jumped in front of me, bulk blocking my path. “Even if the despot gives you a unit, I’ll still be a rank above you, so you better show me some respect.”
“Get out of my way,” I said, calmly.
Amok grabbed me by the towel. “You gonna fight me, bloodclot?” He threw out a few, choice words. “Out of the water, you’re nothing but a little girl. A pathetic, Nurian cheater who manages to stay sunburnt even though there ain’t no sun in Ichthyosis.”
“Get out of my way,” I repeated, firmly.
“Listen here.” He drew me close. “I’ve got just as much power over you as the despot. But, unlike him, I don’t like you one bit. There’s only one thing stopping me from icing you and sending you back to Nuria on your bony, red ass. And, if you don’t give me what I want, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”
What? “What are you talking ab—”
He ripped the towel from my body and slammed me into the lockers, pressing his lips roughly against mine. His hands probed my bare stomach and chest. My hair flickered, sending flames onto Amok’s sleeve. Screaming, he jumped back. It took a lot of self-control to only ignite his sleeve and not unleash a literal firestorm. If I was the same person I was when first deported, that’s exactly what I would’ve done, without question. But, after five ages in Nuria and eight-and-a-half months in the military, I was finally learning some discipline.
Amok scrambled beneath the shower-spouts and turned the water on, full blast.
“How did you—how did that—?”
“I’ve got a lighter in my shower bag,” I quickly lied, snatching my towel from the floor and covering back up. “A soldier is never unprepared,” I threw his own words at him. Then, I grabbed my nightgown from my locker and fled the bathroom, abandoning my sack and washcloth on the floor.
Was Lechatelierite unaware of what a terrible person his second was? If this was the type of man the Commander saw as promotable, I really didn’t stand a chance of becoming an officer.
I ran down the dark corridors and slammed right into Nurtic Leavesleft, lurking in the shadows. The impact literally knocked me off my feet.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
Nurtic took my hands and pulled me up. “Oh no, I was too late!” he breathed, eyes like hazel stoplights. “Are you okay, Scarlet?”
No, I definitely wasn’t, but that was none of his business.
“Too late for what?”
“When I got up to go to the bathroom, I noticed Amok Kempt’s door was open and his quarters were empty. I know you wait to shower after everybody else, so you always get to bed pretty late, but when I saw Kempt was also gone, I decided to go looking for you.” He swallowed and grit his teeth, fury in his usually soft gaze. “Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him.” Nurtic was always so mellow; this was the angriest I’d ever seen him.
“I can fight my own battles, Nurtic,” I retorted. I knew I should’ve been grateful for his concern, but, for some reason, it irritated me. “I’m a soldier like anybody else here. I don’t need your help.”
And, with that, I pushed past him and headed for the barracks where I threw on my gown and lay down in my cold bed, trembling as I reflected on all the craziness of the last thirty-six hours. I didn’t hear Nurtic return to the bunk above me until well after midnight.
That was one hell of a sixteenth birthday.
Scarlet July
It’d been so long since I felt it, I almost didn’t recognize it for what it was. Heat. I was hot. I didn’t need to actively raise my body temperature with spectrum; I could finally relax and feel comfortable in my own skin. But, the warmth wasn’t the only reason I felt so good, now. I just made a discovery I couldn�
��t wait to tell my superiors. I smiled broadly, air actually moist enough for my lips not to crack in the process. I felt a thrill of excitement ripple through my hair, from root to tip, as I looked up into the orange, Conflagrian sky. This changed everything, absolutely everything!
I rolled over in my bunk, entangled in cold, white sheets, and opened my eyes to the sight of a white, metal wall. What did I just discover? What was the good news? I wasn’t used to forgetting things. Did I have a vision? I shivered as I hugged my thin pillow to my chest. I dreamt I was in Conflagria. Who in Conflagria could I possibly be twined to? I had no roots there anymore. No relationships.
I stretched my stiff muscles and got up, though the trumpet hadn’t sounded, yet. I missed my shower last night, thanks to Amok, and yesterday’s sea salt was making my skin crawl.
Amok. I dreaded having to look at his smarmy face in the mess hall.
But, he never showed up at breakfast. Neither did Lechatelierite. I assumed the two were conferencing about the promotions that’d be announced, later today. If Amok hadn’t told Lechatelierite about my ‘cheating’ yet, I was sure he would now, dashing what small chance at leadership I may’ve had.
Nurtic arrived in the cafeteria with a black eye.
At practice, instead of working in our usual units, Lechatelierite rotated the Nurians into different groups every two hours, to observe how we interacted with various people. All day, I didn’t even have to see Amok’s beady eyes or hear his obnoxious voice.
That evening, after Lechatelierite spent an hour alone, finalizing his decisions, we lined up in the gym.
“From now on, the fleet will be organized into eleven units of ten,” he began. “Each unit will be led by one officer and one sub-leader. If I call your name, please step forward to receive your bands.” Lechatelierite paused as the entire room held its breath. “The sub-leader of unit eleven is Arrhyth Link.”
Barely containing his excitement, Arrhyth bounded forward, grabbed his silver bands, and boisterously shook the Commander’s hand. His curly hair bounced with his every motion. His closest friends, Nurtic and Dither, beamed.
“The sub-leader of unit ten is Dither Maine,” Lechatelierite continued.
All too soon, he finished calling all the sub-leaders and began listing the principal officers. As the ceremony wore on and on, the few butterflies of hope in my stomach began to die.
“And, finally, the principal officer of unit two is Nurtic Leavesleft.”
The last of the new officers stepped forward, grinning his dimpled grin, eyes bright despite the black ring around the left one.
“Congratulations, all of you,” Lechatelierite said as the room broke into applause.
Of course, I wasn’t chosen for anything. Who could possibly look at an eighty-pound girl and see a strong and capable military leader? I’d probably get placed in unit one, under the original principal officer. I swallowed as I thought about having to serve right under my molester’s nose, every day. I could’ve reported him for what he did, but I had a feeling we were expected to clean up our own messes, around here. The last thing I wanted to do was come crawling to the Commander or to Colonel Austere for help.
“In the barracks, I’ve posted a list of who belongs in which unit, and where each unit will bunk,” Lechatelierite continued, but I wasn’t listening anymore. “But, first, before you go, there’s one more position I have to appoint.”
Some ‘secret weapon’ I was turning out to be. I had no rank, no authority, no idea how to use my magic for the benefit of the fleet without screwing everything up and, worst of all, no trust or respect from the man I came all the way here to give that weapon to. I didn’t even have a semblance of a working relationship with Lechatelierite. My disappointment in myself piled on top of my anger toward Amok. I just wanted to get out of here as fast as possible and bury myself under the covers.
“He’s facing a court-martial due to an incident one of you notified me about, last night,” Lechatelierite was saying. “So, I’ve chosen a new second-in-command and principal officer of unit one: Scarlet July.”
The gears in my mind jammed. Wait, what did he just say? I lifted my head in disbelief, brain piecing his words together, very slowly. Amok was in trouble. He wasn’t here anymore. Someone told Lechatelierite what happened. Nurtic, no doubt. I looked at Lechatelierite’s pale face in disbelief. Second-in-command? Me?
“Scarlet July, please step forward.”
Numb with shock, I floated to the front of the room. Lechatelierite handed me four, cobalt-blue, V-shaped bands, two for each sleeve. Then, he took my hot, sweaty hand in his icy grasp and shook it firmly.
“Congratulations, soldier.”
Cease Lechatelierite
Upon dismissal, everyone stormed out the door in a frenzy to get to the barracks, where the unit assignments were posted. You’d think they were six-age-old Childhood Program trainees about to take their first surface-ride, not adult military geniuses preparing for battle in a matter of weeks or days. It was ridiculous.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. Sometimes, the most brilliant soldiers turned out to be disappointments. I never expected someone with so much to lose like Amok Kempt to wind up actually losing it all, for nothing. Sure, he didn’t have the best personality around—he had a tendency toward obnoxious arrogance, but only because he truly had something to be arrogant about. He was a no-nonsense leader who always had ears for the craziest suggestions from his subordinates, and he was skilled at piloting even the oldest and most cumbersome vitreous silicas. He was an even better pilot than Nurtic Leavesleft, who flew as though born with a joystick in his left hand. When faced with the decision of replacing Inexor last age, I thought of Amok, right away.
It’d been a rough age for him. During my recovery, he was forced to assume command. My job wasn’t easy. Amok often called to me through his intercom during combat, in need of guidance. I helped him out as best as I could from bed, but the truth was, Amok was the one in charge. As months passed, I could tell he was bending. But, with Inexor out of the picture, I couldn’t think of anyone better than him to fill my boots.
Despite it all, he kept winning battles. His track record became second only to mine. And, then, the Nurians arrived and my fleet was pulled out of the war to train with them. The pressure of near-daily combat was instantly lifted from Amok’s shoulders. Apparently, after six weeks away from the battlefield, Amok must’ve started to forget how much he used to struggle. His command became less of a burden and more of a power-trip.
Then, July rolled around and I returned to my post, stripping Amok of command. He had to step back into my shadow and, unsurprisingly, he didn’t like it. Until Nurtic Leavesleft reported him last night, I wasn’t aware Amok’s power-hunger had begun to manifest itself in bullying. I didn’t know, when I assigned Scarlet to his unit, I’d given him exactly the kind of target he was looking for: he assumed the eighty-pound girl would be easy to push around. No doubt it didn’t take Amok long to discover Scarlet was actually just as capable a fighter as him, and with a creative streak that rivaled his own. As the promotions drew near, he probably realized her excellence threatened his position. So, he found a way to break her down, to mark his territory, to dominate her, once and for all. He decided to rape her.
Late last night—after running into Scarlet, fleeing the scene in a towel—Leavesleft confronted Amok in the locker-room. They got into a fight that ended with Leavesleft restraining Amok with a length of deadline and literally dragging him to my quarters. One could imagine my surprise when Leavesleft banged on my door in the middle of the night—not bothering with the intercom—hollering for me in Nurian at the top of his lungs, Amok cursing with equal volume in Ichthyothian. Of all people to get in a brawl with a comrade, I thought Leavesleft the least likely. But, pieces fell into place when I learned what exactly Amok did to provoke him. When I asked Amok how his uniform got scorched, he told me Scarlet used a lighter she kept in her shower bag. Right. Sure.
As grateful as I was to Leavesleft for bringing the incident to my attention, the way he went about it grated against me… because it was exactly how I would’ve reacted, in his position. In other words, he seemed rather personally invested in Scarlet’s wellbeing. The magnitude of his uncharacteristic violence and fury made me wonder if he was motivated by more than just the normal, dutiful desire to look out for a fellow comrade. Leavesleft could’ve quietly reported Amok and justice would’ve been served all the same; he didn’t have to actively avenge Scarlet’s virtue with his own two hands like he was some First Earth knight. My chest ached a little as I allowed myself to briefly entertain the possibility there was something going on between Leavesleft and Scarlet—something more than the awkward, one-sided, mildly-illegal friendship I initially perceived them to have.
I hated how jealous the thought made me.
Anyway, now, Amok’s story would go down in Ichthyothian military history as an example of what could happen when power, fear and stress intermingled in the mind of a disturbed, traumatized, messed up twenty-three-age-old. Amok was facing court-martial for assault and attempted rape. And, his rank was occupied by none other than his victim.
I was aware what a flight-risk Scarlet was. I was confident in her abilities, yet I knew there were also many dangers to promoting her. Last night, after seeing Amok off, I created a list of potential pros and cons and ultimately decided she was worth the risk.
For one, Scarlet could think like a Conflagrian—cunning, creative, resourceful, adaptive—because she was Conflagrian. Her insight into the mage mind was an asset no one else in the history of the Diving Fleet could offer. The fact that she was a mage—the Multi-Source Enchant, at that—was a huge advantage over her comrades in another way, too: even when stripped of her utility belt, her body was an unparalleled weapon. Her magic overcompensated for her small stature.
But, spectrum aside, she still impressed me. The foremost ‘pro’ on my list was that she was an out-of-box thinker. She had ideas so wild, most officers would dismiss them immediately, in favor of what was known and comfortable. Her ideas typically worked, and in ways that surprised anyone she was up against. So, the logical conclusion was, Scarlet needed freedom from any authority too narrow-minded not to give her wild ideas a chance. Which meant she couldn’t afford to be underneath anyone at all. Except me.
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