On Dagger's Wings (The Spiral War Book 1)

by SF Edwards

  Joda nodded and smiled back with a toothy grin that made Blazer sit back out of instinct. “I have a free period after this class. I will inform your next instructor to expect you to arrive late so we can talk.” Seri nodded and retook her seat. Blazer could read the tension in her shoulders. “With that settled let us get to the business of the cycle.”

  Blazer felt like a kid about to watch his favorite holovid when Joda touched a stud on the holo-projector. The lights dimmed and a spinning Splicer 1000 coalesced in the air before him. His eyes caressed the hard lines of the cranked arrow, delta-winged little fighter; from its sharp beaklike nose, down its length past the mid-mounted cockpit all the way back to the two big engines in wing roots. Blazer listened with rapt attention as Joda launched into a discussion about the craft, pointing out many of its more important features including the Remote Control Override System. The RCOS allowed an instructor pilot to control the single seat craft from a safe location while the cadet flew it.

  The topic then turned to their flying syllabus. For the first few decles, the class would divide its time between technical instruction, and simulator time. Blazer’s hearts pounded when he looked at the schedule. In two tridecs they would proceed into actual craft and take to the skies for real.

  The lights rose as Joda concluded his lecture and Joda turned to Bichard. “Cadet Bichard, please remain. I wish to discuss a matter with you. Cadet Amare, I would like you to remain behind for this as well.”

  Blazer felt his stomach drop and turned to Bichard before the end of class buzzer sounded. Bichard gave Blazer a nervous look but waved him on with his antennae while the others filed out. Blazer refused to leave Bichard behind. This can’t be disciplinary for last cycle’s incident, could it? Blazer read the relief in Bichard’s massive, multi-facetted eyes that he stayed. The rattling of his exoskeletal plates beneath his ill-fitting uniform betrayed his nervousness however.

  The pair walked to the podium where Joda and Seri spoke.

  Joda regarded Blazer with a cold unfeeling look. “Cadet Vaughnt, I did not request that you stay.”

  “I know, sir. Bichard and I joined up together and he is one of my oldest friends. If he is in trouble…”

  Joda waved a double thumbed hand through the air to dismiss any concerns but Blazer did not feel any relief. “He is not in any trouble.”

  “Be that as it may, sir. I would like to stay.” Blazer turned to watch the others leave and as the classroom cleared, he turned to face Joda again. The expression on his face was hard for Blazer to read, but it almost looked kind.

  “Cadet, you are not Anulian.”

  Bichard nodded.

  “Yet you bear an Anulian name?”

  Bichard’s antennae twitched up and down in response before his hum-click voice broke the silence. “Yes, sir. I was adopted by a family on Anul and they gave me their name.”

  “I see. You do, of course, realize that insectoid species need not wear a standard uniform?”

  Bichard’s leathery snout curled up into a horrid mockery of a hominid smile. “Truly sir?”

  “Truly. It is likely a computer error as no Coretherian has ever joined the confederation before. It assumed you were Anulian based on your planet of origin.”

  Bichard looked at Blazer, his antennae twitching with excitement. “Thank you, sir! I never had to wear a uniform, aside from an environment suit, after basic training. I merely assumed the academy had different rules. This suit,” he said tugging at the collar “is ill-fitting to my form.”

  Joda laid one of his massive hands on Bichard’s shoulder. “I understand. Now after classes this cycle see the quartermasters and they will issue you an equipment vest to wear.”

  Blazer smiled as he heard Bichard’s body begin to hum in excitement. Bichard always hated wearing clothes. He would even go so far as to paint his red-brown exoskeleton for formal occasions instead of wearing a suit.

  “Good! Now get yourselves to class!” Joda ordered and the pair saluted before running out of the room towards their next lectures. Passing other cadets in the passageway as he ran, Blazer noted a chrono on the wall. Calculating the time he had to get to his next class, he figured he would just make it.

  UCSBA-13, Main Cafeteria

  When Blazer hustled into the barren cafeteria a few hects later, he breathed a sigh of relief. jumping and hustling into the line. As Bichard, Treb, Chris, and Gokhead arrived, he waved them into line with him the way he had seen other cadets do. No one seemed to gripe too much so long as one didn’t pile a whole team into the line ahead of them. Entering the serving area, he noticed several other cadets taking multiple trays out, for themselves and their teammates? “Everybody grab a tray for yourself and at least one other.”

  No one argued, watching the line behind them continue to grow. When they left the serving area, each of them carried two trays apiece. Except for Bichard, who skittered out on all fours with a quartet of trays on his back. After they’d reached their table, Blazer waved the rest of the team over, holding up their trays, to show them that they’d already picked up their lunches.

  Deniv took a seat next to Blazer and slapped him on the back, smiling at his tray. “Hey, I specifically ordered a boar back sandwich! What is this?” he asked with a broad, joking smile.

  Zithe was the last to arrive. He walked into the cafeteria deep in debate with another cadet. He almost didn’t sit when the team waved him over until he looked at the line forming into the serving area. Zithe took the empty seat opposite him, sneering at the tray for a cent. “Did I get your tray right?” Blazer asked.

  Zithe regarded him with a look of distrust. “You got this for me?”

  “Yeah, it’s nothing to sweat. A few of us arrived a little earlier than the rest of the team so we grabbed everyone else’s lunch for them. We didn’t want people to have to wait in line forever. Anyway, I wasn’t sure what you would like but I knew Lycans have, what, double the protein requirements? So I loaded up with all the meat I could find for you.”

  Zithe looked over the tray with a dismissive eye. Blazer had piled it high with proteins; legumes, nuts, soy, some fruit and vegetables, and a lot of fish. “It’s fine. I’m just not a fan of fish.” From his expression, Blazer could tell that Zithe didn’t care for the fish at all.

  “Better become one then,” Seri commented from her seat. “Most of the protein they farm here will be either from fish stock or synthetic.”

  Zithe turned and looked at her with a crinkled nose. “No fowl? No red meat? Not even,” he went on with a slight shudder, “lagomorphs?”

  Seri shook her head. “They can synthesize red meats using other proteins. However, even though it’s molecularly and visually identical, it never quite tastes right.”

  With that news, Zithe took his first reluctant bite.

  Seri looked around the table. “I would like to thank Blazer and the others for getting lunch for us all. It showed good initiative. I hope I don’t have to order it, but I suggest we follow suit as much as possible with future meals. We could even send our meal requests to the team’s intraweave stitch after the menus are posted at the beginning of every decle.”

  Blazer nodded. That makes sense and it’ll help make sure that no one gets something they hate.

  “How has everyone’s cycle been so far?” Seri asked.

  The common reply was intense. In most classes, after the instructors had finished going over the syllabi, if they didn’t assign work immediately, they spent the rest of the period asking questions of random cadets. Some even gave out entrance exams. Blazer felt humbled by one such test where he only knew half the answers.

  “As you should all remember, we have ground combat training after lunch. I am looking forward to gauging where all of you stand on hand to hand combat experience,” Seri stated with a gleam in her eye.

  Everyone nodded, some with more enthusiasm than others. Zithe betrayed a wicked grin as he stared at the fish he decimated on his plate. “It will be entertaining to s
ee,” he commented, stealing a glance at Blazer.

  Blazer didn’t care for how Zithe put that, nor for how he seemed to direct it at him. “So Seri, how did the meeting go with Joda?”

  “It was… enlightening.” Her shoulders slumped for a moment and she sighed. “I’m beginning to wonder if I should have taken on squadron commander.”

  Zithe looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Setting his fork down, he wiped his mouth before speaking. “You could always step down as team leader, and hand it off to one of us. You could at least get that burden off your shoulders. None of us would think any less of you.”

  Blazer shook his head at the arrogance of that before Seri set her own fork down to speak. “No, I’m not going to do that, but that raises a good point.” They all stopped and stared at her, sure that what she was about to say would be significant. “I feel that I am more qualified to be a squadron commander then a Spec Ops Team Lead.”

  Everyone stopped eating. “Why? What’s wrong?” Blazer asked.

  “It’s just that I’ve been talking to some of the Spec Ops cadets and team leads that started last annura. I now believe that being a team lead just isn’t for me.”

  This was not the news Blazer wanted to hear. He wanted Seri on their team. Given her experience, if she were to remain their squadron commander, they might lose a lot of advice and influence she had to give them.

  “I’m going to stay with the team until I can pick my replacement. I will likely stay with you through the initial round of Spec Ops Training to ensure a smooth transition too. I know this comes as a blow since I came here wanting to join Special Operations Command, but the chance to be a squadron commander is too enticing.”

  Zithe looked at her with a cool, knowing glare. “You used your old enlisted contacts and influence to find out some things you shouldn’t have.” It wasn’t a question.

  She shook her head. “No! No, I learned it from talking to people.”

  Blazer felt the unasked question hanging in the air as everyone exchanged glances, and gave it voice. “If you stop being our team lead, who’s going to take over?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I want to wait and see who emerges as the natural leader of the group and I want to consult with the cadre first to get their read on it as well. It will of course be one of you,” her eyes looked over all of them, stopping longer on Zithe and Blazer. “I’m not going to force the choice or allow anyone else from outside to pick either.”

  Blazer felt Zithe fix him with a feral stare. The game to see who would be the leader of the team had begun. Blazer knew that he didn’t intend to spend his time campaigning. He would go on as he always did and would strive to do his best in all things. If Seri chose him, he would take the position and lead. If she chose Zithe, he would follow. The decision was not his to make and he would abide by whatever Seri decided. Please just pick the right leader. Looking back at Zithe, he met those feral eyes and nodded. Challenge accepted.

  Blazer pushed thoughts of leadership aside as conversations picked up around the table. Deniv griped about one of his instructors and soon everyone had a story to tell. Classes were now the focus and they all compared notes on instructors and syllabi--speculating on what was to come. As they talked and finished their trays, they slid them into the recovery chutes at the middle of the table.

  As Bichard finished eating, he tugged at his collar. Irritation caused his mandibles to clack together and he bumped into Arion. “Bichard if you’re that uncomfortable with your uniform, take it off! Blazer mentioned that the regs state you could.”

  Bichard nodded. “Yes, but I was going to replace it with my tactical vest. It doesn’t have my name or rank on it yet and that is required.”

  Seri held up a hand from the head of table as she finished her mouthful of food. “I can take care of that,” she said waving him over.

  Bichard stood and made his way to her side. She motioned for him to kneel. After he crouched down before her, she produced a knife from her jacket pocket and proceeded to slice his name badge and rank from his uniform. She then reached into the leg pocket of her uniform and produced a small cylindrical device.

  “Nano-sewing kit,” Seri announced. “Remove the blue cap and then run the tip around the edges of these,” she said, holding up the name and rank badges. “Then replace the blue cap, place your patches on your vest and run the red cap around the edges again. Replace the red cap and press this stud. It’ll be done in less than a pulse.”

  “Thank you!” Bichard smiled in relief.

  “Now get to your quarters and change. You’ll look a Sheol of a lot better in red than yellow anyway,” Seri commented with a laugh.

  Bichard smiled his hideous smile before he skittered off. Seri grinned as other cadets jump out of his way.

  “Most people recoil when they see him smile the first time,” Arion commented with an appreciative nod.

  “Only if they don’t run for safety,” Deniv laughed. “I know I did.”

  “No, you broke down and cried,” Arion replied with a laugh.

  Seri cut off Deniv’s retort, leaving him with a mock hurt expression. “I’ve been to Corether before.”

  Blazer stared at her, speechless. He and Arion only knew of Bichard’s adoptive parents going to Corether. But they stopped their cargo runs to his homeworld after they adopted him for fear of the queens discovering him. Seeing the expressions on their faces, she went on.

  “An old commander of mine had a serious thing for Coretherian honey.”

  Blazer’s mouth watered and his stomach gurgled in response. He and his friends had sampled that sweet nectar in the past, once raiding Bichard’s family’s stores of it and gorging themselves.

  “I have to say, I like the stuff. When I went there I saw a lot of Coretherians and so I realize just how unique Bichard really is.”

  “Do you think he shouldn’t be here?” Blazer asked.

  Seri fixed him with a questioning gaze.

  “Bichard really had to fight to be accepted into the academy. He’s already the first Coretherian Confederate if you want to get down to it. The Coretherian don’t even have an official vote in the senate since no one has ever served.” Coretherians like many races that could not or would not serve in the Confederation, instead hired Confederates to be their voice in the senate.

  “I saw the gamut of the Coretherian castes when I was there. Everything from the lowest worker up to the brutes, that’s probably one of the reasons that Bichard was assigned to my team,” she stated and gestured the extremes with her hands.

  “The brutes! You know about them?” Arion asked; his interest piqued.

  “The Coretherians try and deny they exist at every turn, but I’ve seen them. And I’ve seen enough Coretherians that, even not understanding their biology, that well, I can tell that he’s something special.”

  Blazer nodded. “He’s definitely unique in the universe and the scientists that studied him back on Anul didn’t want to let him join the academy. They offered him all kinds of scholarships to go to school but it was a guise to keep him close to study him and turn him into some lab experiment. He wanted to get away and become his own sentient. He didn’t want to become just a different kind of slave.”

  Before Seri could reply, a commotion rose up a few tables away.

  “Oh, so you mean you are good enough to eat like the rest of us!” a voice screamed over the crowd.

  Blazer cringed. It was Chertsin, that self-satisfied sneer in his voice grating across every nerve. Sure that Chertsin was trying to pick a fight with Trevis and the Explosions, Blazer turned to look along with the others. To his surprise, it wasn’t the Explosions he stood attacking but Squadron Eleven.

  “What makes you so special that you think you can just run to the farm and pick your own food? Are you so much better than the rest of us that you can’t eat like us? Is that what you think?” Chertsin ranted.

  Blazer could see that wasn’t the case. Squadron Eleven had the same
trays as the rest of the cadets sitting in front of them at the table. Blazer wanted to do something to stop the bastard, but waited to see what the squadron would do.

  “Academy regulations state that any cadet who so wishes may gather food from the farms so long as the Farm Chief gives his consent,” Marda replied, defiant before Chertsin.

  The faint glow of a spirit orb floated behind her, highlighting her auburn locks. Blazer shot the orb a hard look and it faltered under his gaze before moving close to her ear and pulsing. Looking at Chertsin, he could tell that he didn’t see the orb. Most Tomeris couldn’t detect them.

  “I can quote the regulation if you like, but we were already advised by the Farm Chief and our advisor not to make a habit of it. The privilege is intended…” she continued until he interrupted her again.

  “I know what the regs say, little girl, and don’t think I don’t know who and what you are. I may not be able to see it, but I know that your little dead friend is right there telling you what to say.”

  The orb flared in anger and Marda reached up, waving it away. “No, she’s not,” she replied. “I speak for myself!”

  Blazer stared; confused. She? The orb’s a female? He’d always assumed that both orbs had been males in life.

  “It was my idea to head to the farm last cycle and my squadron merely followed out of curiosity at dawn. When we were offered the fruit, we took it of course!”

  “So you do think you’re better than us!”

  Her Chret squadron commander stood, his environment suit in marked contrast to those around him. “My squadron conferred with me before they took the fruit they were offered. I authorized it, corporal,” he announced, his beak clattering against the inside of his helmet as he towered over Chertsin, his former rank bars of a chief still evident on his suit. “And as Cadet Sciminder has stated, they won’t do so again.”

  Blazer let out a silent cheer that Chertsin had been shut down and for how well Marda had stood up to him.

  “Don’t think those old ranks mean anything here anymore, Chief,” Chertsin bit back, poking the faded area of the shoulder where the rank had once hung. “We’re on a level field here and your squadron has already made a target of themselves with everyone here.”