by S. G. Basu
“A whole pod like this can house thousands of baby bugs, which can bite through the flesh of a person within moments. These pods are hard to eradicate with long-distance firearms, thanks to the tremendously resilient scales that cover its entire surface. The only way of destroying the pod is to slice it along the nerve line at the center of the sensory column that stretches up and down and across the middle.”
Miir paused, as if to enjoy the horrified expressions on the faces around him. He then pointed at the tapered tip of the egg and the lean gray stripe that ran down through its middle.
“That silver streak at the middle of the gray patch is the nerve line. Remember, to kill the nerve center, you have to slice it precisely along that silver stripe. If the first blow does not kill the nerve center completely, the pod releases as many insects that it can, as many as the surviving nerves control. These baby insects are not any less vicious than the adults, and they attack with the intent to kill whatever lies in their path.”
“What horrid pests. Where are they from?” Kusha blurted.
“The fourth planet of the Ssoiffean System,” Miir replied, shooting an annoyed glance at Kusha.
“Why did you have to go there? Were you looking for something?” Kusha asked again.
There was a substantial pause before Miir replied. “We were collecting some trade resources.”
“Was there no other way to eradicate them? I mean, other than cracking them open one at a time?”
The pause was even longer this time around.
“There was one other way. Using pesticides that permeate their armor, but that was not an option because these caustic pesticides could damage the trade resources we intended to collect.”
Kusha fidgeted a little before speaking again. “Thousands had to die fighting these horrible things because pesticides could harm trade resources? Are you—”
Miir cut him off. “If I wanted a commentary on our moral dilemmas from you, had it been relevant to what we are trying to accomplish, I would have surely asked. Since I did not, your focus on the task itself will be a better use of your time and of everyone else’s.”
Kusha sank back into his seat, his face darkened. Everyone looked nervous. If this meeting was any indication of things to come, Maia was not eager to imagine what lay ahead.
“I shall demonstrate the correct way to deactivate the pod followed by an incorrect one,” Miir continued.
He drew out a small sword from behind the podium and struck the egg with remarkable swiftness and ferocity. Maia sat up and leaned forward to see. The sharp edge of the weapon had cut right through the tip of the egg, bisecting it into two perfectly symmetrical halves that lay with their internal circuitry exposed. As his audience looked on in awe, Miir stepped forward and put the broken portions back together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The parts meshed into each other seamlessly, and within moments the egg was ready for the next trial.
Miir’s second strike missed the nerve center by the tiniest bit. As the two pieces fell apart, they rattled, contracted, and then expunged about a dozen bright sparks of light. They hovered in the air above the broken pod and then rushed toward Miir, who stepped back and slashed at the flying particles. The sparks died off as soon as the lance touched them. It took him three swipes to take all of them out; his nonchalance through the whole exercise made it look ridiculously simple.
“Those lighted particles, though just an imitation of the real beetles, do sting. I would not want one to land on me.”
With that comment, Miir turned toward Kusha and handed him the weapon. Kusha looked subdued as he took aim. And then he struck. It was a clean cut through the tip; not a single spark came out of the pod as it lurched and broke into two. Miir simply nodded curtly in response to the expert demonstration. As Kusha took his seat, Miir turned toward Maia and Dani.
“A volunteer from this side?” he asked.
Maia looked at Dani’s drawn face; she seemed every bit as apprehensive as Maia was. It was understandable, Maia thought to herself, the stress of performing well in front of an overly critical examiner was not easy to handle. Maia, however, was anxious to get it over with. Not sensing much interest in her companion, she got to her feet. As she stepped toward the small pedestal, a similarity that was so obvious suddenly became apparent. This egg, she realized, was not very different from the seed heads she trained with in Appian. The small smile that crept into her face and the sparkle in her eyes did not fail to draw the mentor’s attention, as he threw out a wry comment immediately.
“Looks too easy to you?”
“No,” Maia protested in a hurry. She was not looking forward to confronting this icon of arrogance on her very first day.
Standing with her sword poised, Maia wavered. On one hand, she wanted to try to disable the nerve center, but on the other, she also wanted to spill a few and tackle them in flight. Maia decided to strike the sensory column at an angle so a part of the pod could survive. As she brought down the weapon, she desperately hoped that Miir would not detect the plan behind the faulty hit.
There was a brief delay between the strike and the release of the sparks of light. They soared up, hovered briefly above the broken pod, and charged ahead. They were different; smaller than the flower seeds, and faster than Maia had expected. But she still had to make her plan work. Instinctively she stepped back, scanning hard to find a pattern before the swarm reached her. She found one—the curve and the slash and two more curves—far too many strokes. Maia kept looking, eyes scanning in a nervous rush. Then she found the one swipe that could take them all. With her lips twisting into a smile, she slashed her way across the web of flickers, wiping out every single one.
“Wow!” Ren had sprung to his feet, clapping.
Maia flashed a grateful smile at her visibly impressed teammate and then stole a furtive glance at Miir.
He stood staring, studying her face as if trying to solve a riddle, then stepped forward to patch the egg and retrieve the sword from Maia. “Just cannot help showing off, can you?” he said in an undertone heavy with disapproval.
Nafi went next; her cut was clean. Dani followed not so successfully; she managed to keep the spurt to just five, of which she quickly killed four. The last one lodged firmly on her arm, making her yelp in pain. Ren was the last to face the pod, and he did not just stop at cutting it into two, but proceeded to cut the halves further along the center. Maia was suddenly thankful to be on the same team as the Xifarian boy. He certainly took the cape of the resident show-off off her shoulders.
“That was an impressive display, Ren, although somewhat unnecessary,” Miir commented dryly.
Ren simply shrugged.
“You are all quite capable, but you lack focus,” Miir declared after a while. “I would advise that you put extra effort into keeping yourselves out of trouble. Do not think that you are allowed to take liberties as you please, simply because you are visitors. Your stay is regulated by the same code that guides all students in this academy, and any transgressions will result in the strictest penalties. Also, I have had a spotless career here, and I hope to keep it that way. I shall not be appreciative if you intend to tarnish my reputation by association.”
They turned to look as Miir pointed at a corner of the room.
“You will store your personal protection devices in that closet. Under no circumstance will you carry a weapon without my explicit permission. Is that understood?”
Heads nodded in unison.
“Okay then, let us find out who the team leader is,” Miir said as he drew a small metal tablet from behind the podium and punched its keys vigorously. Puzzled glances flew across the room. He had not spoken about this before; no one had known that they were being evaluated for team leadership.
At the podium, Miir frowned. He looked at Maia, the grimace still in place as if he detested what he was asked to do, and said, “You.”
Maia shuddered. He surely did not mean that I am the team leader. She was in no position to be one.
Not only was she not interested, but she was simply ill equipped to be anything but a regular tag-along. She was vaguely aware of the critical glances and doubtful looks that were shot her way. It annoyed her to no end. They failed to understand that she did not want this, that she would gladly give it away if she could.
“Now, does anyone have any questions?”
No one said a word, except Maia. “You mean . . . I’m the team—“
“Leader,” Miir completed the sentence.
“But . . . what if I don’t . . . don’t want to be . . .” she stammered and stopped midway, realizing nothing would change just because she was unwilling.
Miir flashed a cold stare. “Given a choice, knowing what I know about your tendency of questioning rules and your fondness for disrespecting authority, I would not have picked you at all. But it was not my decision, and I can do nothing to reverse it.”
There it is, just like I thought. Not only had he plainly stated his low opinion of her, but he also made it clear that there was no reasoning with anyone or anything on Xif. With every passing moment they were dragging her deeper and deeper into the muddle, making Maia wonder what they would demand next. Her mind went numb, and like they always did when she ran out of ideas, her cold fingers reached for the ends of her pigtails. Around her silence reigned until Miir spoke.
“Well then, we shall meet again in two weeks. If needed, you can use your team communicator to contact me in the meantime.”
He surveyed their faces one last time and strode out of the room.
17: Yilosario’s Fourth
As soon as the door closed behind Miir, the team crowded around Maia.
“Why wouldn’t you want to be the lead?” Nafi demanded. She looked tense, more than ever before.
Maia sat silently for a moment, thinking of what to say. She did not owe Nafi an apology, she had not asked for this. But then she decided to explain, realizing that the team, including Nafi, had not asked for this either. Maia’s newest predicament was not their fault.
“Because that’s the truth. I don’t want to lead any team,” she said softly. “I don’t care about this contest either. I would rather be home.”
Nafi shook her head in violent displeasure. “Like it or not, you are here,” she said, biting through every word, her emerald eyes blazing. “And want it or not, you are the team lead. So you better get your act together fast. We have to win this contest, and there are no two ways about it.”
This girl was going to be a major source of aggravation, Maia thought to herself. Not only was she obnoxiously outspoken and aggressive, she was also obsessed about winning the contest. And they had not even started competing yet.
“I don’t know about winning, but I’m not in a hurry to get back to my crazy life on Tansi,” Kusha added. “I know what you’re going through, Maia, but Nafi is right. We have to make an effort to stick together and work hard at this.”
Maia scowled inside in disdain. Kusha would never know what she was going through, nor would anyone else. She wanted to scream out loud, tell them that she had planned to disrupt her chances of making it through so she could leave early. She did not care who won or who lost, as long as she could get back to Tansi. But as much as she wanted to, she could not bring herself to say anything; it would be wrong to make them suffer for her, she realized. Frustrated, she simply looked away from the bunch.
“Oh, come on,” a loud chuckle from Ren lifted Maia’s spirits a little. “You guys are taking this far too seriously. This is all about having some fun, so sit back and relax a bit.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Kusha shot back. “You get to come to the XDA anytime you want. It’s not the same for me. I value this chance. It means a lot to me, and it is much more than just fun and games.”
“I know,” Dani sighed. “I have to make the most out of it while I can. Hans will never allow me to come here otherwise, I’m pretty sure of that.”
Maia stifled a groan. The facts stared her in the face. She was in charge of a group of people who were intent and focused on this competition like nothing else mattered in their life. And here she was, hardly caring about her newfound stature that anyone else in the team would have been honored to receive. She felt annoyed, but she also felt small, a little guilty perhaps.
“Can’t believe you didn’t even ask about your responsibilities,” Nafi said with a roll of her eyes.
Maia did not have a reply. It was true; she had not remembered.
“Don’t worry about that, we’ll find out,” Dani chimed in smiling, trying to bring disagreements to an end. “That was a great move though, Maia. I was stunned by how fast you brought down those bugs.”
“Yes, it definitely was. I just had to do something special after that display,” Ren admitted a little ruefully.
“Did you know that Maia can do the Siroccan Spiral?” Kusha said, sounding boastful of his association with Maia.
“You did a Siroccan Spiral at the Selectives?” Dani’s eyes shone with admiration.
“Oh yes, she did. But not at the Selectives.” Kusha eagerly related the events that had led up to the Xifarians offering Maia a place in the competition.
“The principal personally invited you?” Dani asked after hearing it all.
Maia nodded, recounting the details of her encounter with the Xifarians.
“Oh, so you’ve met Miir before?” Dani blinked.
“He is quite demanding,” Kusha started rather hesitantly, and then blurted, “and unpleasant.”
Ren nodded wisely at Kusha’s statement. “It’s probably all the fame gone to his head. He’s a child prodigy after all. He has always been a celebrity—the youngest pilot ever to master the Onclioraptor, with countless records for a hundred different moves. They even honored his achievements by awarding his Raptor the Royal colors. Shadow is the only civilian craft allowed to have red and gold on its wings, nose and tail. At sixteen, Miir is one of the greatest Raptor pilots ever, even better than Miizuken himself.”
“He’s better than the genius pilot inventor of the Onclioraptor?” Dani asked, eyes widening.
“Yes,” said Ren. “Miizuken, by the way, was his grandfather . . . his mother’s father.”
“You don’t mean that he’s the chancellor’s son?” Dani gulped.
“The Chancellor of Xif?” Nafi squeaked.
Ren nodded. “Yes, the younger of his two sons.”
In any other situation, it would have been a thrill to have a prodigy of a pilot as a mentor. But knowing what she knew of Miir, Maia didn’t feel excited. Probably this encounter had made everyone apprehensive, as a hushed, nervous silence filled the room.
“What’s that metal thing on his face?” Nafi asked Ren after a while. “I don’t see you wearing one.”
“It’s a neurogenic interface,” Ren explained. “Very few people own one, those who have access to memories . . . across generations. Miir, for instance, might have inherited his grandfather’s interface.”
“Access to memories?” Maia sputtered. She had never heard of such a peculiar thing.
“Yes,” Ren replied, “mostly a privilege of the rich and the famous. Except, of course, when we enter a new star system and choose a new neighbor or host, and the whole population gets one for about a week to learn the new language and soak up some history and culture.”
“That’s how everyone here speaks our language so well.” Maia smiled at the unraveling of yet another mystery. “You’d have to learn quite a few languages in your lifetime, I guess.”
“Of course,” Ren nodded, “a new one every fifteen years or so.”
A loud grunt from Kusha drew their attention to the boy, who was slumped in his seat, shaking his head. “Just can’t get over it. I annoyed our mentor at the very first meeting. He hates me now for asking those questions.”
“Why did you have to sound so painfully principled anyway?” Nafi scoffed.
“So what? You heard him . . . I’m the greatest show-off in town.” Ren t
hrew his head back and laughed.
“It’ll all be okay,” Dani attempted to calm the rising tensions, as always. “The next time we see him, we’ll all be better prepared and he’ll have forgotten. Hans always says there is no point dwelling on the past.”
Nafi turned sharply to look at Dani. She gazed at her silently for a while, and then pulled out the sheet that listed the activities for the day.
“We should focus on what we have next.”
“We have to assemble in the Auditorium Gallica and meet our Resident Master,” Maia said, peering at the task sheet.
“That will be across from the Hall of Mencie, which you can reach through Turret 3 from the eastern corner of the Main Hall.”
The solemn voice that suddenly flooded the room made Maia jump in surprise. She soon realized that the voice had come from all around them, as if the room had spoken.
“I am Yilosario’s Fourth, your planner,” the voice boomed again. “I will help you with all supplementary needs, including generating weekly task lists, maps, guides, rulebooks, and anything else you might require.”
“Could you open the curtains for us please?” Kusha flashed a cheerful smile, hoping to charm the unseen presence.
“I cannot override the command of the team counselor,” the reply was prompt and grim.
“Sorry,” Kusha grinned sheepishly and continued, “just point me to the switch and I will open it up myself.”
“The counselor’s wish is binding; I cannot provide you access to the controls.”
“There’s nothing here then,” Maia said. “Let’s go find the auditorium.”
“Before you leave, I have to give you the list of guidelines that you are expected to adhere to during your stay. The first eight are golden, and violating any of those will result in expulsion,” Yilosario’s Fourth said.
At the corner of the room where the weapons cabinet stood, a piece of paper scrolled down noisily from a slot that had appeared on the wall. Nafi pulled it out and read it aloud.