by Zen DiPietro
“You’re never in my way.” She made sure her bags were ready for the morning, and set out her injection, biogel, and protein pack next to the bed.
“I like hearing that.” He lay down on the bed and held his arm up so she could lie against his chest with his arm around her.
“Then I’ll say it again. You’re never in my way. In fact, seeing you helps keep me extra motivated.”
Instead of tickling her ear or saying something teasing, he sighed. “Look, I get that you need to do what you’re doing. I respect how hard you’re working. But the truth is, it isn’t easy to see someone I care about tearing herself to shreds.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought about it that way. She knew she didn’t look good. She had circles under her eyes and, by the time she got back in the evenings, was often slumped over with fatigue and soreness. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed again. “Don’t be. You’re doing what you need to do, and I’m behind you on it. I’ve missed you, but that doesn’t matter because neither one of us came here to be in a relationship. I’m proud of how dedicated you are, but I don’t take it personally. And I hope you won’t take it personally if I work on my own things to keep myself focused on what I need to do rather than worrying about you.”
“No, you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it from your perspective, but I get it. The further we get in our careers, the more they’ll probably pull us apart. I mean, it pushes us together, because of what we have in common, but…” she trailed off, finding it difficult to make her point.
“But we’ll be under unusual stress, and it will have its effect.”
“Yeah. It might put us at odds, and we’ll have to deal with that.” After school, they might be assigned to entirely different sectors of the galaxy, or one of them might go deep undercover.
He patted her shoulder. “We’ll figure things out as we go along. For now, we’ll each just focus on what we need to do. Deal?”
“Deal.” She didn’t like this conversation. It made her think about how hard it was to imagine her future without him, and how unlikely it was for him to be in it.
He kissed the top of her head. “Go to sleep. You have a lot to do tomorrow.”
Six weeks into her bulking-up endeavor, she could see and feel a difference. She could lift much heavier weights, and she saw a difference in her body, which was kind of a big thing. People from her genetic background did not put on muscle mass easily. A person could be super strong, but look downright skinny. Seeing a physical difference gave her hope.
She kept on with the weight training, and added martial arts practice in the evenings. This meant less sleep, and less attention on her academic studies. She’d slip in her classes, but it was a calculated risk. In two weeks, once Whelkin evaluated her, she could throw herself back into her studies and catch up. She had to make the sacrifice now, though, for her long-term best interest.
Drew showed up less and less often. She supposed she must look terrible, and he probably preferred to sleep in his old dorm rather than see the toll her efforts were taking.
It was for the best, but she missed him.
One day shy of the eight-week mark, she returned to her dojo to find Whelkin sitting in the chair behind the desk. It was odd to see him there, in the space she and Drew had made into a training room. She wasn’t surprised Whelkin knew about it, though. He probably knew everything about her life on campus.
“Ready?” He lounged in the chair, as if they were having a casual social visit.
Was she? She felt exhausted and stretched thin. She’d thought she’d fall into bed, but instead she had to fight for the life she wanted. All she could do was say, “Yes.”
Whelkin stood. “Let’s go.”
In their basement dojo, they circled each other. She thanked her body chemistry for the boost of adrenaline that surged through her. She felt her exhaustion underneath it, but she’d ride the wave for as long as she could.
Be faster, Whelkin had said. Be stronger. Fight smarter.
She’d had eight weeks to think about how to beat him. Eight weeks to analyze his style, cross-reference it against his teaching style, and again by his lesson content.
She’d also analyzed her own style, and what he would expect from her. And she’d spent her time developing and training techniques he wouldn’t expect.
Fight smarter. Be stronger. That’s what she’d do.
She began as she would have before, in a judo stance, waiting to see what he would spring on her. But before he could launch his attack, she moved in under his guard, unleashed an uppercut, and grappled him to the ground. Before he had time to overpower her, she went for the kill shot, punching him in the trachea.
She pulled the punch, delivering it with only a fraction of its power so as not to actually harm him. But she’d proved herself. Within three seconds of his test, she’d already shown him everything he needed to know about her.
He couldn’t make her give up. No matter what his complaint was, she’d find a way to get better.
She stood, backed up, and barked, “Again!” just as he did when they were training.
She couldn’t take him by surprise twice, but she fought hard, changed up her tactics, and did everything she could to show him how she could use her strength and her smarts to win.
Be stronger. Fight smarter.
Five minutes in, she realized with shock that he was truly fighting her. He wasn’t just poking at her, testing her skills. He was giving her his best.
And she was still standing.
Prelin’s ass!
A rush of success consumed her, and she threw the extra energy into her attack. Strike, shove, block, kick, dodge, throw. And again. And again.
“Enough!” Whelkin shouted. He didn’t let down his guard until she dropped her arms and stepped back, breathing hard.
She felt like a monster. A god. She was made of pure energy and the desire to win. She burned to keep fighting.
“Get hold of yourself, recruit. Control it.” He glared at her.
He knew the euphoria she was feeling. That fact made her pull herself up hard and try to get a grip.
It wasn’t easy. She paced, swinging her arms out, imagining the aggression leaking out of her.
“Now sit.” He said it so commandingly that the part of herself that was still hopped-up on killer instinct wanted to rebel.
She sat.
“Good. Take two rest days, then we start fresh. From now on, every time we train, bring this with you.”
She felt no wave of relief or triumph. She’d known she’d passed the test when she realized he was fighting her full-out.
“Was this about finding the berserker within, or about seeing how far I’d go to succeed?” She folded her hands in her lap.
“Both. If you want to make it, you have to be able to devote yourself to a singular purpose and do whatever it takes to achieve it. That’ll be your job. You have to be smarter, harder, and tougher than anyone else. Anyone. Even me.” He stared at her, unblinking.
“Why am I getting this lesson now? Why not months ago, or next year?”
“Because you weren’t ready before. You were too controlled. Too distant. And because if you didn’t start now, it would be too late. You’re up against some hard competition, and you have to be able to beat all of them.”
“Why? Will there be only one selected from my class?” Her mind went to Drew.
“No. There will be four. One team. That’s it. But you can’t be just one of the four. You have to be the best, because you were recruited to lead.”
“So either I become the leader or I don’t make it at all?” She tried to understand the reasoning.
“Each class has a select handful of potentials for special ops, carefully chosen for their diversity of skills to operate as a team. If you aren’t selected as a leader, there’s no space for you.”
“I have no choice but to be number one.” It had always been her aim, but in the back of her mind, she’d thought
that being one of the top few would qualify her.
“In two days, we begin your real training. Every day, just like this. Be ready. And be sure this is what you really want.” Whelkin stood. Apparently, they were done here.
She walked slowly back to her room. A deep conflict pulled her insides in opposing directions. On the one hand, she’d broken through a threshold, and she’d qualified for some real truths from Whelkin. And she’d passed his test. On the other, she felt a new burden.
She had to be the best. She had to do everything she could to beat Drew, no matter what that meant for him.
For the second time that day, when she opened the door to what she’d expected to be an empty room, someone was there to greet her. This time, it was Drew, and Emiko could not have been more glad.
Her senses still thrummed from earlier, and adrenaline still zinged through her veins. The world felt more vibrant and alive and…no, she felt more alive. Most of the time, she lived in a middle ground of calculated expectation. Her mood neither rose too far above the baseline, nor sank too far below it.
But now, she felt fantastically free and wild and full of many different emotions.
“Wow,” Drew said, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. “So, you failed, huh?”
“What makes you think I took the test?” He had known something about it beforehand? It was funny how commonplace she now found it to question what people knew, and how normal she found it to assume that she was always being watched and listened to.
“You’re sort of glowing,” he said, painting a shape around her with his hands. “Like a star.”
“I am a star,” she agreed. “Someday, I’m going to rule this whole place.”
Not really. Her intended profession didn’t work that way. But it was fun to say.
“Yeah, you are.” He reached out, and, when she gave him her hand, he tugged her down into his lap. “Admiral Emiko.”
“I’ll make sure you get an admiralty, too,” she promised. “Otherwise it would just kind of be weird, you know?”
He tilted her back and tickled her mercilessly.
That touched off a whole tickle war, which led to a pillow fight, which segued into other, less combative pursuits.
In the morning, Drew got up bright and early and dressed for a run. “Are we running together again or are you still bulking up?”
“I’ll go back to running in two days. I’m giving my body a rest, then I’ll get right back to it.. Why, do you not like my new muscles?” She struck a bodybuilding pose, which was silly since she’d never actually become bulky without some unhealthy interventions.
“No, I like them a lot. They’re very womanly.”
She squinted at him, trying to decide if he was teasing. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.
“I mean it,” he insisted. “You look great.”
“Well, good then.” She rolled onto her side. “Now you go for a run, and I’m going to treat myself to another hour of sleep before I throw myself into catching up on my classes.”
“You got it. Sweet dreams.” He closed the door quietly behind him.
Emiko finished out the second year of the academy with a vengeance. Her sessions with Whelkin became absolutely brutal. It wasn’t unusual for one or both of them to break a bone or two, though they immediately went to the infirmary to have them healed.
Whelkin rarely trained her and Drew together. She didn’t know why, and he didn’t answer when she asked.
She didn’t ask a second time. Not everything was hers to know yet.
She saw less of Drew because her weekends kept her off campus, doing flight training. Finally, she got to actually be in a ship. It felt like it had taken forever.
They ran together every morning she was on campus, though, and fit in weight training when they could. She was determined to keep building her strength. Whelkin clearly thought she’d need it.
The run-up to the end of the year was nearly frantic. Emiko and Drew had no time for picnics on the quad or watching a holo-vid with Jane and Val. Every minute of their waking hours was accounted for. She even skipped the group activities she carefully attended to maintain her appearance of being a well-rounded student.
Drew began to struggle with something. She didn’t know what it was, but she watched the shadows under his eyes grow. He always kept up his good spirits, but sometimes he was too exhausted for anything but sleep.
“Is something going on?” she asked one night when they were both studying late. She suspected that when she went to sleep, he’d keep working. He’d been doing that a lot lately.
“Yeah. Kind of. I can’t talk about it, though.”
“Oh.” She tried to think what that could mean. “So, it’s like what I went through with Whelkin, but for your specialty?”
“More or less. Can we stop talking about it, though?” He looked uncharacteristically anxious.
“Of course. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. This is just part of it all.” He gave her a small smile, then returned his attention to the voicecom screen.
Times like that reminded her of why they never called each other things like “boyfriend” or “girlfriend.” They rarely spoke of their feelings, either. They were nothing like other couples.
Absolutely nothing.
When her third year of the academy began, Emiko felt so much older than she’d been the day she arrived on campus. The incoming class, even those already older than her, seemed like naïve children. She was fast becoming aware of some of the hard truths of the universe, and learning to second-guess everything.
The beginning of the year touched off a new ferocity to her training. She suffered concussions, broken arms, and torn ligaments every week. She had a particular doctor assigned to her, and got to know him well.
Meanwhile, her academic schoolwork shifted to specific aspects of diplomacy, law, and intensive flight training.
Despite the pain and injury, she felt like a propulsion chamber finally getting up to full speed. She felt everything more intensely than she ever had before—both the highs and the lows. Adrenaline became a normal part of her daily routine, and she thrived on it.
Whelkin pushed her harder than ever before. He berated every mistake.
“You’re dead!” he’d shout at her when she made a mistake.
“There’s a brawler you’re competing against who is going to rip you limb from limb if you don’t step it up! Then he’ll get your place at OTS and you can go be a security babysitter for the rest of your life.”
Every time he berated her, she leaped back to her feet, ready to go again. To do it better. To fight smarter, and get stronger. His criticisms only motivated her. She saw them as nothing but attempts to weed out a weak candidate.
That wasn’t her.
Then one day, three months into her third year, she felt a shift in her combat abilities. She arrived at a level of skill that made things she’d struggled with feel natural. Like they were no effort at all.
She felt it in her body as she dodged, twisted, and struck back at Whelkin. What had once required so much effort now came instinctively, as a reflex. Like the time she had demonstrated her bo staff skills to Drew, her brain was so hardwired with skill it seemed her body was acting on its own.
In a beautiful ballet of murder, she slipped in under Whelkin’s attacks, threw him over her hip, and followed him to the ground, her hands on his throat and adrenaline roaring in her ears.
They froze that way, eyes locked, for a long moment.
“You’re dead,” she said evenly, repeating back the words he’d said to her so often. “You’ll never beat me again.”
From that point on, he never did. She learned to win even with a broken arm or only one eye that worked right.
It was brutal, it was vicious, and it was everything.
She wished she could tell Drew about her success, but there were more things than ever she couldn’t discuss with him. No doubt he’d had successes he couldn’t tell her
about, too.
Their isolation, ironically, only strengthened the bond between them, because they both understood it.
Their feelings for one another grew deeply intense. She had a hard time doing things in moderation, and Drew was the same. It was yet another thing they had in common.
She could practically see him growing taller and more muscular. His boyishness had melted away, and been replaced with more of an edge.
He was her competition, and they had to keep secrets from each other, but she felt like he was the only person in her life who could truly understand her.
Drew was her best friend, her lover, and her partner on this quest. His teasing and occasional whimsy kept her grounded into life. She wondered if, without him, she might become nothing but a killing machine.
Finally, four months into their third year, he nailed the backflip, surprising them both.
When he landed on his feet, rather than on his knees or a combination of his feet and hands, he wore such a look of shock that Emiko laughed.
“Woo!” he shouted in triumph, sweeping her up in a hug and spinning her around. “I did it! Yes!”
“Quick, do it again, before you forget how,” she prompted.
They spent the rest of their free time doing backflips. Drew didn’t land them all, but he succeeded more often than he didn’t.
They were both making strides.
It was all coming together, and she could envision her future more clearly than ever. She felt so close to being able to grasp it within her fingers.
Lying in bed that night, after her mind had gone hazy with sleep, Drew spoke softly in her ear.
“I feel like something’s about to happen.”
The sleep haze lifted slightly, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have sometimes, like when a storm is building. Skies have gone gray, the wind has picked up, and you’re just waiting for the clouds to open up and drench you. You ever get that?”