by Zen DiPietro
“Five-time regional champion, two-time hemisphere champion.” She said it matter-of-factly, without a hint of pride. Here, those titles meant nothing, and she knew that now.
He simply nodded. “Just stick to competition and sparring style in class, with none of the tactics you’ll be learning from me privately. Some of the students in that class are aiming to be security officers for real, and they’ll work harder if you set a high bar for them. You’ll learn a thing or two as well, probably, by watching your classmates and how they apply the lessons.”
“I see.”
It would seem that the academy had more than one reason for creating her new identity the way they had. She wondered what other things she’d discover as she went along.
“Good. I’ll be working with you twice a week outside of your class hours, for now. We can schedule a time that works around your academics.”
He opened the door. Apparently, they were done here.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“If your bruises need attention, go to the medical bay and see Doctor Hafli or Doctor Yates. They’ll make sure such things don’t go into your medical files.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. From experience, she knew she’d need a couple days.
He gave her a knowing look, but didn’t argue. “Other than that, have a good weekend, and I’ll see you next week. Oh. One more thing. If you’re serious about this, you need to work your ass off, Emiko. There’s no halfway in this. If you aren’t ready to push yourself to a wall and then through the wall, you might as well take back your birth identity and become a real security officer.”
She hardened her expression to avoid scowling at him. “I’ll go through as many walls as I have to.”
“Good. I’ll see you soon.”
Emiko began her morning hand-to-hand combat classes with Whelkin, which taught her little to nothing. Occasionally she’d pick up an interesting way to disarm or incapacitate someone that she hadn’t known, but mostly, she was reviewing basics.
Their private evening sessions, however, took everything she had.
She wondered how the others he trained were faring. Were they doing better than her? Had anyone given up?
Surely the brutal sessions had weeded out one or two hopefuls. Or maybe more. There was no way to know how many people he was working with. She never considered quitting, though. She thought of pain as a road that would take her to her desired destination. If it had to hurt to become a better fighter, she had no complaints. She was no stranger to it.
After a particularly challenging session with Whelkin, Emiko applied dermacare patches to her ribs, sternum, and back, hissing between her teeth as she did so. The patches would take a day to do what a techbed could do in minutes, but she didn’t want to run to the infirmary every time she got a booboo. She wasn’t a child, and the officials watching her progress might track such things. She could handle some bruised ribs.
She’d stocked up on dermacare and liniment. At every meal, she’d been eating Bennite food, too, which had many health benefits. She wanted to ensure she’d be sufficiently healed for her next lesson.
The way Whelkin taught made sense to her, and her skills improved with every session. She needed to be in top form, though.
Three months into her life as an academy student, she felt well-adjusted to the routine. She ate to fuel her body, but her classes and her training were the real food she craved. She attended regular meetings of the holo-vid club with Jane. The food appreciation gatherings happened less frequently, due to the effort it took to arrange them, but Emiko and Val had learned a great deal at the two that had taken place so far.
The academy arranged regular social and entertainment events as well, which gave students an opportunity to learn and make new friends. An outdoor concert on the quad with music played by the students of the nearby music college had been announced to a great deal of enthusiasm. It was a yearly event, and apparently one that had a reputation of being great fun.
“How’s this?” Jane carried a blanket, while Emiko held a container of tall smoothies they planned to enjoy while listening.
“Perfect,” Val said. “We’ll have a nice view from here, but won’t be so close that ducking out early would get a lot of attention.”
“Why would we duck out early?” Emiko asked.
Val shrugged. “No particular reason. I just like to be prepared.”
“I like that about you.” Emiko said it jokingly, but she meant it. Val had good judgment, which Emiko valued greatly.
They spread their blanket and settled in, sipping their smoothies and talking about their classes. Emiko was glad they’d shown up early. Latecomers ended up crowding around the edges, forced to stand. At least they’d be able to hear well, even if their view wasn’t the best. The quad’s acoustics were surprisingly good. Some architect of outdoor design had done an excellent job.
The concert opened on a fun note, with a band using electrical instruments to play some recent popular music. From there, the performances showcased just about every musical style Emiko could imagine, and a few she never had and didn’t particularly care for.
Overall, she found the performances enjoyable. Sometimes outings like this were tedious or boring, but this one held her attention. Her mind didn’t keep skipping ahead to the physics homework waiting for her or any of a dozen other things she could be doing instead.
For a rare couple of hours, she simply enjoyed herself.
Then it was over and they were gathering up the blanket they were sitting on and their trash. As Emiko pushed the cups into the recycler, a good-looking Zerellian guy approached.
“Did you like the music?” he asked.
She checked around, but he was talking to her. Why? “Yes, it was great,” she said. “You played cello, right?”
His forehead lifted. “You recognized me?”
Her memory often came in handy. She smiled and nodded.
He tossed a wrapper into the recycler. “Found that on the ground. Some people are so rude.”
“Yep. Well, it was nice to meet you. Congratulations on a lovely performance.” She almost bowed, but caught herself. She had already gotten into the habit of proper PAC protocol. Being a musician and not a student of the academy, though, he might find it weird.
He reached out as if to touch her arm to keep her from leaving, but pulled his hand back before he made contact. “You wouldn’t be free to show me around, would you? I’ve never been here, and would love to get a good look at the campus.”
He smiled and a dimple sank into his right cheek. He was very attractive, and seemed genuine. She bet that dimple got him a lot of dates.
“I’m afraid I have to get to my schoolwork. But let me introduce you to my friends. I’m pretty sure they’d be happy to.”
Emiko transferred Mr. Cello into the capable and very interested hands of Jane, then made a hasty retreat.
She was happy to leave flirting with cute musicians and dating to Val and Jane. No doubt it was fun, but Emiko didn’t have time to waste on that kind of thing.
As she returned to her dorm and began her bedtime routine, she thought about all the mass of students who had lingered after the concert, socializing, flirting, and no doubt planning to stay up later than they should. They were young, after all, and most were living on their own for the first time in their lives.
Even for Emiko, the switch from having parents noting her schedule, behavior, and what she ate to having complete privacy and control over her life had been a heady thing.
On the other hand, she probably had far less privacy than she liked to think. No doubt she received particular scrutiny every day from people watching to see if she’d live up to her potential, or crack under the pressure.
Regardless, unlike other students, Emiko couldn’t afford to be exhausted the next day. She had intensive combat training to do. As much as she loved life at the academy and felt more in her element than she ever had before, she still felt like an ou
tlier. It wasn’t a bad thing, exactly. The best of the best, by definition, was an outlier, and that’s what she was determined to be.
Sure, she felt isolated sometimes. But it was a price she was willing to pay.
2
Emiko turned her head slightly to avoid the sunlight that kept making her squint. She took a deep breath of fresh air and gave her shoulders a slow roll to loosen the muscles.
Six months into her first year at the academy, she had finally found her groove. She felt like she had all the balls up in the air and was juggling them just as she was supposed to.
She was earning top marks in all of her classes, she continued to progress in her combat skills with Whelkin, and she had established herself as a well-adjusted, normal student.
For the first time in her life, she felt like she was really in the right place and making inroads into the life she had always wanted for herself.
Hand-to-hand combat class was a drain, though. She had to square off against students who had little or no previous training. It felt like babysitting. So far, that morning had been particularly tedious.
Such classes were no fun at all when people were afraid of getting hit. She wondered if these students were merely fulfilling a requirement or if they’d thought this would be an easy class they could make a good grade in without much effort.
Hah.
She renewed her resolve to see these classes as an opportunity to maintain a cover identity. Instead of being a tedious waste of time these sessions provided her with practice at persevering through a tough situation.
She really tried to see it that way. Sitting there with the sun in her eyes watching a couple of softies circle each other was damn boring, though.
At least they were out on the quad that afternoon. Whelkin liked to change up their location each week. She’d seen firsthand how some students lost their fighting nerve outside of the dojo or the boxing ring. She approved of Whelkin’s efforts to keep the students from unconsciously thinking that fighting only happened in designated places.
Like Emiko and her classmates, Whelkin himself wore the close-fitting shirt and pants meant for close-contact training. He was a charismatic teacher, and his low-key style usually elicited a hardworking response from his students.
Some people just weren’t cut out for fighting, though.
She tried not to cringe as she watched a pair of students skittishly circling one another. Their teacher called out encouragements and corrections, and the two were visibly trying, but they clearly didn’t understand the joy of a good fight. They should have dropped out of it weeks ago.
Whelkin’s attention caught on something, and he called, “Drew! Join us for a moment, if you have time.”
A tall, long-limbed guy about her age trotted over. He had smooth skin, wavy light brown hair he wore just a touch longer than most male academy students, and was very good-looking. As he got closer, she saw that his eyes were brown, but a lighter shade of brown than hers.
Whelkin gestured to her, calling her to the makeshift sparring ring. She leaped up from her knees in one motion and joined him and the newcomer.
The guy openly studied her. Sized her up. Her interest in this interaction skyrocketed. He wasn’t afraid to fight, and he wasn’t dismissing her for her size, either, although she stood fifty centimeters shorter and was at least fifty pounds lighter.
Whelkin said, “Drew, this is Emiko. She’s my best student in the afternoon class. Emiko, Drew is the best student from my morning class.”
Her interest peaked even higher. Was her teacher introducing her to this guy as more than just a demonstration for the other students? Was he good enough to give her a challenge?
They bowed politely to each other in equal measure. She saw in his stance, the set of his shoulders, and the coolness in his eyes that though he didn’t discount her as an opponent, he intended to win.
She didn’t intend to let him, but she hoped he’d make her work for it.
“I’d like the two of you to show the others how this is done.” Whelkin gestured to the rest of the class, who sat watching.
Drew wore the cargo pants and t-shirt typical of academy students rather than the usual sparring clothes. “Sure.” He slipped his shoulder out of his backpack strap.
Emiko nodded. I hope you like losing.
They stepped into the space, facing each other. Whelkin shouted, “Begin!”
Neither of them moved. Drew gave her time to make the first strike, but she only watched him. He stepped to his right and she moved with him, keeping the space between them constant. She liked that he took time to size up his opponent.
She liked to do that, too.
After circling each other for an unusually long time, he struck. She blocked the light jab, along with the next one. He threw another, faster this time. And again, harder. She easily turned each strike aside and he increased the power behind them until he was hitting his hardest.
Still, she either blocked each blow, or moved out of the way.
Once she felt like she had his measure, she jabbed at his face, then threw a hard punch to his sternum. He dodged the first but the second glanced off his ribs.
She was much stronger than she looked, and now he knew it.
Wisely, he changed tactics, stepping into her space to grapple. It was a smart choice, but he was still too slow. He didn’t have the reflexes she’d spent almost all her life developing. From there, it was easy. A knee, a weight shift, and a push put him flat on his ass.
He immediately leaped back to his feet, moving in again to let fly with a solid three-punch combination. Block, block, and she took a solid hit to the chest to get herself in position to put his arm in a vice. His ass was on the ground again.
“Excellent,” Whelkin called as Drew leaped to his feet again. “Thank you both.”
Drew and Emiko eyed one another, each making sure the other had turned off battle mode before dropping their guard. She felt slightly out of breath from that hit to the chest, but otherwise felt fantastic.
Fighting was the only thing she loved as much as flying. And since flight classes wouldn’t begin until her second year, she’d have to get her highs from combat.
“You can’t be afraid to take a punch,” Whelkin lectured her classmates. “Sometimes you give up a hit to gain the advantage. The more punches you take, the better you’ll get at it.”
He turned his attention to Drew and Emiko. “Nice work, you two. Emiko, why don’t you take off early while I teach your classmates some basics?” He gave her a wink.
She smiled, bowed low to her teacher, and retrieved her backpack. After putting it on, she gave Drew a shallow but proper bow for a fellow student, then turned to leave.
“Hey,” he said as she turned away. She looked back at him.
“Are you up for an early dinner?” He wore an easy smile.
She immediately began devising the right thanks-but-no-thanks response. She had work to do. She promised her nonexistent roommate they’d eat together. She had an activity scheduled. But then she stopped. Maybe it was his smile, or maybe it was how much more suited to fighting he was compared to her classmates. Something about him made her want to say yes.
So she did.
The next day, Emiko bumped into Drew as she left her first class.
He broke into an easy grin when he saw her. “Hey, I know you. Were you just in there?”
“Nah, I just wander around and pretend to leave classes just as they end. It adds to my mystique.”
He laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll see you around, then.”
After her second class, she crossed the quad toward the cafeteria. Her classes lined up a little oddly, so that her lunchtime always came late. Sometimes she skipped it in lieu of a snack she ate on the run, but her stomach was letting her know that wouldn’t be acceptable today.
“Are you stalking me?”
She looked up to see Drew coming from the other direction, looking sweaty but pleased. “I most certainly a
m not. Are you stalking me?”
“Maybe.” From another guy, that response would have put her off, but accompanied by his easy grin, it just seemed funny. And maybe just a touch flirtatious. He seemed to be the kind of guy who made friends and flirted easily, so she didn’t take it too seriously, though.
“Have you eaten lunch?” she surprised herself by asking.
“Yeah, but I didn’t have time for much. Whelkin’s class always makes me extra hungry, too. So if that was an invitation, I accept.”
For some reason, she felt her cheeks flush. Was she embarrassed? Pleased? Both? She wasn’t used to…well, whatever this was. “It’s always nicer to have someone to talk to over a meal, right?”
He made for a good lunch companion. He was a talker, and didn’t seem to mind filling in her occasional silences with conversation that was sometimes clever, often intelligent, and frequently funny.
He had an outgoing, laid-back personality that made him easy to get along with and easy to be with. The more time she spent with him, the more he drew her out of her studious shell. She felt less like she had to make an effort to be social and more like she’d found someone she could relax and be her whole self with.
Well, her whole fake self with, anyway.
The thought soured her mood. He seemed entirely genuine and forthcoming, while she was lying about where she came from and even her own name. Maybe it was wrong of her to make friends with him under that pretense.
It hadn’t stopped her from making friends with Val and Jane, though. So why would he be different?
She felt uneasy when they parted ways after eating. She should probably make an effort not to cross paths with him tomorrow after her first class and before lunch. If they kept spending time together, she’d just have to keep feeling this way.
Better to just avoid it. She didn’t have time for distractions.
Whelkin’s class in the afternoon turned out to be fun because not only did they go out to the quad again, but he also used her to demonstrate some advanced concepts. They didn’t go over anything that he’d been teaching her in their private lessons, but it was much higher-level stuff than she usually got to do in class.