by Kal Spriggs
“Oh,” I said. I stepped around a group of running children. In the late afternoon sun, the place was hot, dusty, and the smells of cooking food and unwashed people mingled in a way that turned my stomach.
“Here we are,” Ashiri said. She led the way down a narrow alleyway between two rusting hulks, then up a rickety metal ladder and through a hatch. I wasn't really sure what to expect, at this point, but it certainly wasn't what I found on the other side.
Carpets and rugs covered the floor. Soft music and the sound of falling water filled my ears, cutting off the noise of the town beyond. A short, dark haired woman greeted us, her face painted in an elaborate fashion, “Welcome!” she said, “table for...” she looked between Ashiri, Alexander, and I. “Three?”
Ashiri nodded, and then replied in a different language. My eyes widened as the two chattered back and forth for a moment. The hostess looked at us and then gestured towards a curtained doorway, “This way.”
Ashiri led the way. Past the curtains, we walked down a long corridor and then into a small, private room. “They normally keep this for distinguished guests, but since I speak the language...”
“Nice,” Alexander said, taking a seat at the table. The entire wall of the room was taken up by a large window, which caught the light of the sinking sun. We were high enough up that I could see out, over the town, and into the desert. It looked remarkably beautiful, in a stark fashion.
I took a seat. A moment later, a young woman entered and passed each of us menus and filled our water glasses. The way she poured water, a single smooth motion, struck me. It was like she practiced it. What a strange place.
“These are traditional dishes,” Ashiri said as she opened her menu. “So most of them are spicy. If there's a mild version, I recommend that.”
The menus were actual printed ones, rather than what I was used to at restaurants, where they would just populate on my datapad. I looked at it for a long while, not really understanding what I was reading. I sort of listened while Alexander and Ashiri talked about classes and their families. I felt left out, but I couldn't blame them. I was the one crashing their date, after all.
My gaze kept going to the window. The view really was amazing. The sun had begun to draw close to the horizon and the sand took on a golden hue. From our height, Bahta Town looked peaceful, almost beautiful. I could sit there for hours and just enjoy the view.
“Are you ready to order?” Our server asked. I blinked at her, not realizing how much time had passed. I wondered if I'd dozed off, staring out the window.
Ashiri began to order, still in the same language. A moment later, Alexander ordered, haltingly pronouncing something off the menu. Then everyone stared at me. I felt a flush climb my cheeks. I pointed at something, more or less at random. “Ah, the phall, a good choice,” the server gave me a friendly smile.
“Oh, good,” I replied.
She took our menus and I really wanted to ask Ashiri about this place, about how she spoke this other language. I knew she'd come from the Ten Sister's system, but I didn't know that they spoke a different language.
But I didn't want to seem ignorant. So I kept my mouth shut.
Food came far more quickly than I'd expected. Ashiri had some kind of rice topped with cubes of meat and all of it smothered with a bright orange sauce. Alexander had slices of some kind of meat that had been grilled, with several odd-looking vegetables.
Then they set the plate down in front of me. The smell hit me first. It was some kind of soup or thick gravy with large chunks of fish, with a strong spicy scent that made my eyes water. There was rice to go with it. I looked up, wondering if this were some kind of joke, but Ashiri and Alexander were diligently eating. I fumbled with the silverware and then tried to pick at it. My stomach rumbled to remind me that I'd missed lunch, having to try to scramble to get homework done before I left on pass.
I brought a mouthful of rice and fish up to my mouth and took a bite. It actually tasted better than it had smelled, right up until the spice hit. Then it felt like fiery doom. I reached for my water and started gulping it down, even as I felt my eyes well up and my nose began to run. I had to look like a crazy person as I gulped down my glass of water, then poured the glass full again.
“Uh, Jiden,” Ashiri asked, “are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, feeling as if the spiciness had seared my vocal cords, “I'm great, this is really good.” I felt like what I’d eaten was trying to eat its way through my stomach.
“If it's too hot...”
“No, no it's fine,” I insisted, “just fine.”
“You look a little red,” Alexander said, his voice neutral.
I felt like my face was on fire. I could barely breathe and I just hoped my nose wouldn't drip onto my plate. “No, this is great.” I brought another mouthful up and took a bite. Kill me now, please...
I kept eating, my mouth, throat, and stomach protesting at every bite, my eyes welling up. It was sheer agony. I felt like every bite burned its way through my throat, into my stomach, and then headed deeper in my intestines to cause me further pain. The other two finished their meals and we sat there in awkward silence until they pinged our datapads with the bills. I had never felt so embarrassed in my life and I just hoped we'd be able to get out of here and I could go back to my room. I didn't want to see Alexander Karmazin ever again. I wasn't even sure I wanted to see Ashiri again.
I paid my bill and stood quickly, stumbling a bit and feeling off-balance. “We'd better go,” I croaked. “Don't want to miss the train.”
We still had plenty of time, but I stepped out of the room before they could argue. I didn't see them coming behind me, as I hurried out of the restaurant and down the stairs. I had my head down and my eyes were still burning, so I didn't see the group of three people ahead of me until I ran into one of them.
I bounced back and landed on my backside. I stared up at the plebe I'd run into, barely able to see through my watering eyes.
“Crying, Armstrong?” Boldander said, her voice mocking, “I didn't even hit you that hard... yet.”
I heard laughter and looked over to see Thorpe laughing at my expense. Next to him, I saw Sashi Drien, her expression hard. Three of them, one of me, and I felt like I could barely walk. They were going to pummel me. I looked around the alleyway and I didn't see anyone. I didn't know how they had gotten here, if they had followed me or if I'd just had that kind of luck that I ran into them.
I almost felt like I deserved it. I was stupid. I shouldn't have come here. Maybe I can run, I thought, but I didn't want them to jump me from behind. It was hopeless, yet I somehow found the strength to stand to my feet. If they were going to beat on me, I was going to at least meet them on my feet.
***
Chapter Nine: It Was In Self Defense, I Swear
I had stumbled upright and took a step backwards, only to bump into someone behind me. I looked over my shoulder, expecting another enemy, only to see Alexander Karmazin had come up behind me. He gently pushed me out of the way and stepped forward, “Bolander, you have a problem with us?”
“Sand Dragons,” Bolander spat, “more like sand lizards.” She took a menacing step forward, but Alexander stood his ground. Ashiri came up next to me and I saw her tensing up, as if she were getting ready to run or fight. I wanted to run, but looking back, I didn't see anywhere to run. I'd probably fall and break my neck if I tried to run up the rickety metal stairs.
As I looked forward, I saw Thorpe had circled to the side and I saw him lunge forward in a punch. “Look out!” I shouted.
I needn't have bothered. Alexander dodged the punch and kicked Thorpe in the stomach. Bolander went after him, then, but before he could do a thing, Ashiri leapt forward, kicking and punching like a madwoman. I just sort of stood there staring as the two of them brawled with Bolander and Thorpe... and that's why I didn't see Sashi coming.
My former roommate didn't do any grandstanding. She just stepped up in front of me and punche
d me right in the face. As I stumbled back, I caught a boot in the stomach and I fell back against the wall. As I gasped for air, I looked up in time to see Ashiri grab her by the hair and drag her away from me, but then Bolander swung a punch at me and I did the only thing I knew how to do: I stood there with a dumb expression on my face as she punched me.
I fell to the ground and for a moment, I saw stars. Bolander picked me up by the front of my uniform, slamming me against the metal hull of the old ship behind me. As she drew back her fist to punch me again, my stomach had finally had enough.
I vomited, blasting her in the face and hair with the contents of the spicy, fishy, food. She opened her mouth to shout in disgust and I kept puking, throwing up still more as she reflexively dropped me. I emptied the entire contents of my stomach in the alleyway, the burning, acidic bite leaving my throat and nose in pain... but my stomach at least finally felt better.
I heard the sound of running feet and then Ashiri gave me a hand up. “Jiden, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I gasped. She passed me a handkerchief and I wiped at my face and lips. Looking down, I'd somehow managed to avoid throwing up on myself, but I had dirt and dust from the street on my uniform.
Ashiri looked a little scuffed up, with a small bruise on her cheek and dirt on her hands. Behind her Alexander looked a bit more roughed up, but their bruises could have passed for what had happened at the training the previous day.
My left eye was already swelling shut from where Sashi had hit me and it still hurt to breathe from being hit in the stomach twice.
“We should get you some ice, get you cleaned up,” Ashiri said.
I dabbed at my face. I didn't think I'd broken my nose, but I honestly didn't know. I pulled out my datapad to use it as a mirror and then noticed the time. The train...
“We don't have time,” I said. “The train leaves in five minutes.”
The others checked their datapads and I heard Alexander curse. “We have to run, let's go!”
We ran back, dodging through the twisting streets and crowds, then running down the stairs and into the train station. As we ran down the last set of stairs, we could see people filing aboard, but the train cars were filling up quick. Each of the cars were full as we came to them. Alexander and Ashiri held me up as we ran down the length of the platform, finally squeezing into the last train car just as the doors closed
“We made it,” Ashiri puffed. I could barely breath, my throat was on fire. From now on, I'm asking just what it is we'll be eating and I'm looking it up ahead of time.
I started to say something to her and then froze as I saw who we shared the car with.
Bolander, Thorpe, and Sashi stared at us from only a couple of meters away. Bolander's face and uniform were still covered in vomit. Thorpe's face was a mass of bruises and his uniform was torn. Sashi Drien sported a black eye and her hair was still wild from where Ashiri had grabbed her. The three of them stood from their seats in a menacing fashion.
Even as they did so, the doors on the end car opened and Commander Bonnadonna and Commander Scarpitti stepped through. “See,” Commander Bonnadonna said, “as I said, the last cars are a bit less crowded.” He looked at us, his eyes narrowing at the bruises and contusions. His gaze seemed to linger on our clenched hands. “Plebes,” he simply nodded and stepped past us to take a seat.
Commander Scarpitti looked between us. Her gaze seemed to linger on me, almost as if she wanted to ask what had happened. She probably wanted to help, but I didn't think her getting involved would make things any better. It would just make Bolander angrier.
She didn't say anything though, she just followed Commander Bonnadonna to the back of the car and took a seat there. The eight of us waited in silence as the train headed towards the Academy.
As the train slowed to a halt, I turned and the three of us got off as soon as the door opened. “We have time to get cleaned up a little,” I panted as we ran through the corridors of the lower levels. There was supposed to be some kind of uniform inspection at the upcoming formation.
We ran back to the barracks and Ashiri gave me a hand patting the dust and dirt out of my uniform. She'd avoided anything noteworthy. I took a moment to wash my face off in the sink and then we ran back toward the parade ground.
We were just in time and I stepped into the formation just as they called us to attention. “All present,” Dawson muttered to me. “And what happened to you not taking pass?”
“I’m never taking pass again,” I croaked, my throat still burning. Off to the sides, stretching off in all directions in the massive, underground chamber, I saw other plebes in formation. I wasn't sure, but it looked like there were a lot of missing people. We're probably all going to get in trouble for that.
Cadet Lieutenant Webster squinted at us, his eyes angry. I wondered why he hadn't taken pass, but I didn't ask. We went through a quick accountability and then he snapped, “Open ranks!” First squad immediately took four steps forward, my squad took two steps forward, and Alexander Karmazin's Third Squad didn't move. Cadet Lieutenant Webster stalked down the ranks, his expression angry. Here or there he paused and criticized scuffed boots or stains on uniforms. I grew more and more nervous until he finally got to me. He stopped, only a few millimeters from my face, and looked me up and down. He sniffed loudly, “You smell like you've been eating curry. Really, really spicy fish curry.” He frowned, “Phall?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” I snapped, hoping that I didn't reek of vomit.
“I hate Phall,” Cadet Lieutenant Webster snapped.
“I'm not much of a fan, either, sir,” I replied, before I could stop myself.
Behind me, I heard Alexander Karmazin snort, barely controlling his laughter. Don't make this worse for me, please, I thought to myself.
Webster squinted at me and opened his mouth as if to chew me out.
Down the way, I heard a training officer begin to shout, “Bolander, you smell like you fell in a fish-market dumpster! You have vomit on your uniform, in your hair, there's even some in your eyebrows. I could smell you from the front of the formation! Do you want to try to tell me it's not your fault again!?”
“Sir, no excuse, sir!” Bolander shouted in response.
Cadet Lieutenant Webster looked in that direction, then back at me. He seemed to consider the situation for a long moment, and then gave me a slight nod, “Uniform is acceptable, Plebe Armstrong.” Then he moved on.
I let out a slight sigh of relief. Though from the continued shouting over by Ogre, Bolander wasn't getting off lightly. She and Sashi and Thorpe are going to hate me even more now. Yet I didn't feel any pity for them. They were the ones who had cornered me. They'd picked the fight. I hadn't even managed to defend myself, not really.
The inspection ended and Cadet Lieutenant Webster called us all to attention. As he did so, I saw a largish group of plebes forming up on the other end of the parade ground.
“Class of Two-Ninety,” the Regimental Training Officer shouted. I could see him, now, out of the corner of my eye, standing on a large pedestal. “You have failed as a class!”
Well, that's not good, I thought to myself.
“We give you all the opportunity to enjoy a few hours of freedom, and you spit in my face! Over a hundred and thirty plebes were out of ranks, a hundred and thirty! I am disgusted, I am disappointed! Not only that a hundred and thirty of you were unable to read a simple train schedule, but that so many of you made it back in time! From this point on, Class of Two-Ninety, you either pass as a class, or you fail as a class. That is in every regard of the regiment. Every drill exercise, every training event! If one of your classmates is late to a formation, from this point on, all of you will receive the demerits! If one of your classmates fails to pass one of their drill exercises, then all of you will continue to drill until that individual passes, am I understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” I shouted with the rest of the plebes. My stomach sank at the thought, though.
“Now, as
a show of unity, I want you all to do one push-up for each of your absent or late classmates! Class of Two-Ninety, half-right face!” We shifted over, and I stifled a groan as he put us on the ground. “Count with me, in cadence!” he shouted. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him assume a push-up position. “One, two three...”
“One!” we all shouted.
“One, two, three...”
“Two!” we shouted. It was going to be a long night.
***
The next day, waiting for ethics class to start, my arms aching, I looked up in surprise as someone stopped in front of my desk, “Armstrong, right?”
“Huh?” I asked, “Yeah.” I recognized Regan, the tall, red-headed plebe was from Dust Company, if I remembered right. I was just surprised he spoke to me.
“Nice job with Bolander,” he said. “You know, biological weapons are against the Guard Charter, right?” He grinned at me. He had a nice smile, I noted.
I found myself smiling back, “Well, I used what I had.” I had no idea how he'd heard about the incident already. I certainly hadn't told anyone.
“Still, throwing up in her face... You're something of a biohazard, eh?” He snorted.
“Yeah,” I laughed. It felt good to laugh about it, to put it behind me a bit.
“Very good, Miss Armstrong,” Commander Bonnadonna said, his deep voice alarmingly close. I jerked to attention along with the rest of the class. None of us had seen him come in the room. “That's actually part of our discussion today: the morality and ethics of warfare and the myth of the 'fair fight' that has permeated society.”
He had a slight smile as he saw us guiltily waiting. “At ease, ladies and gentlemen. This is a class, not a dressing down. Take your seats.” I sat down hurriedly, noting that Regan took the empty seat next to me. Maybe, just maybe, I'd made another friend.