by Zen DiPietro
It was exhausting. No wonder she didn’t wear makeup.
“I’m going to use a wig, for the sake of time,” Peregrine said. “Sit still and don’t touch your face.”
It wasn’t easy. Her face felt weird. Her eyes felt kind of wet and gloopy around the edges. She wanted to find a mirror and sneak a peek, but didn’t want to get in trouble.
So she obediently sat still and didn’t touch her face.
Then Peregrine was pulling at her hair, pinning it up, and settling a big hairy blanket on her head.
It was itchy, and she immediately hated it. But she remained still.
Peregrine fussed with the thing, made adjustments and styled it, and finally stood back and stared at Fallon.
She nodded. “Okay. Have a look.”
She handed Fallon a mirror.
“Wow.” Fallon carefully touched her cheek, which somehow now had prominent cheekbones. Her eyes were huge, and round and pretty. Her lips were fuller, her mouth wider, and her nose looked narrower.
“How the hell did you do that? It’s just makeup.”
One edge of Peregrine’s mouth raised slightly. Was that a smile? “It’s bringing attention to the things you want to be seen, while camouflaging the things you want to keep hidden. That’s all you. It’s just highlighting the best parts.”
She turned her head from side to side, pouted her lips, tilted her head and smiled. It was weird that the person in the mirror was her.
She smoothed her hands gently over the long, wavy locks around her face. It was a similar shade of black as her own hair, but this was fuller and silkier. Much longer and more luxurious.
“Now stand,” Peregrine instructed. “Act like you’re showing up at an important event.”
Self-conscious, she put her shoulders back and took three steps across the space.
“Stop. You move like an anti-grav cart. You need to shift your weight with each step and put some swing in your hips.”
“I can do that,” Fallon said defensively. “You’re just making me nervous.”
“Show me.”
She backed up to the door and let out a breath, remembering her hip-swinging stride from the tram station on Luna. She tried to replicate it.
“Better,” Peregrine said. “But too young. Shorten your steps, take your time. You’re there to be seen, so you’re not in a hurry. Imagine yourself as molasses on a cold day. Sticky, slow, and heavy.”
Fallon hated the analogy, but didn’t say so. She focused on embodying molasses.
“Good. Almost passable. Work on it.”
“How do you know this stuff?” Fallon asked.
“Study. A lot of it comes from just watching people. Seeing how subtle differences in how a person moves affects their appearance. I took some theater classes, too, both for emoting with the body and for costuming.”
“Awesome. I’m impressed.”
“Really? For a makeover?” Peregrine looked dubious.
“Well, that and how much you’ve put into studying it. It’s great.”
“Well, wait until tomorrow. I’ll make you into something really amazing.”
“I’m a little scared, when you say it like that,” Fallon joked.
Again, that little quirk on one side of Peregrine’s mouth.
“Anyway, I need to get going.” Peregrine didn’t reveal her plans, and Fallon didn’t ask. Some things weren’t her business.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’m going to go try out this look.” Fallon posed dramatically. At least, she hoped that was what she was doing.
Fallon sashayed across campus in the most in-character way possible. Her pants and shirt marked her as a student and were far from glamorous, but she still got plenty of attention.
She concentrated on her sticky molasses walk, elegant turns of the head, and a casual attitude that she hoped conveyed the impression she wasn’t even trying to be this amazing.
Normally, people’s eyes usually slid over her, probably not even registering her unless they had a reason to.
Today, people’s eyes stuck to all her molasses, and they stared for the entire time they were in her view.
She didn’t turn to see if they were still looking after she’d passed. She was far too fine for that.
She laughed, though, just thinking that. It wasn’t the real her, but it was fun to pretend for just a little while.
At Raptor’s door, she used the chime rather than the door code.
When he answered, he wore a polite smile. A confused look crept in, then realization hit. All this happened in two or three seconds, and she took great delight in it.
“Wow,” he said, stepping aside so she could enter.
“That’s what I said.” She continued her molasses mosey up to his bed, where she sat primly and posed, looking up at him through her false eyelashes.
“That’s amazing. It’s like it’s not even you. You look fantastic.”
She affected an annoyed look and his eyes widened.
“Not that you don’t always look fantastic. It’s just a different…more understated kind of fantastic. More wholesome. Actually, I like that better.” He nodded repetitively, as if that could convince her of his sincerity.
She laughed. “It’s fine. I know I look great, and it’s not my usual thing.”
“You do look great usually. Strong and healthy and confident and cute. I like your usual look.”
She smiled. “I said it’s fine. I’ve never really been concerned with looks.”
“And I’ve always liked that about you.”
“Yeah?”
He sat down next to her and smiled. “Yeah.”
“Have you eaten? Want to go get some dinner? Make everyone jealous you’re with such a gorgeous woman?”
He laughed. “No way. People will think I’m cheating on you.”
He ducked the pillow she swung at his head, and they both laughed.
“I like that we can laugh together and say how we really feel, even when it’s not good,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Good.” He leaned in like he would kiss her, so she leaned in, too. He whispered in her ear, “Let’s order some food. I’m starving.”
They laughed again.
8
“We’re making progress,” Fallon told Whelkin, sitting on the floor of the training room. “I wasn’t sure at first, but we’re going to make this work. I’m starting to like Hawk and Peregrine.”
“Teams are put together very carefully,” Whelkin said. “So I’m glad you’re already finding common ground. What you need to focus on, though, is the championships. If you still want to win, that is. Whether you do or don’t won’t affect your career.”
“When I got here, my goal was to be the best. To get the top marks in my classes, and to be first in my class. That goal has driven me the whole time I’ve been here. Not meeting it would be letting myself down.”
He frowned at her. “You’ve never had to accept a loss?”
“Of course I have. But not often. And never on a specific goal.”
“I see. You need to focus on training, then. Hawk and Peregrine won’t be easy to beat. There are only a couple of others that might be able to challenge you three.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing Hawk’s and Peregrine’s styles. I kind of wish we’d been able to train together.”
“You’ll do plenty of it in OTS. Don’t worry about that. What you should consider is that Peregrine and Hawk didn’t grow up fighting because they wanted to, like you. They started fighting early because they had to.”
She’d suspected that they’d both come from rough backgrounds. “Why are you telling me that? We’re not supposed to know about first lives.”
“As their leader, I think it’s something you need to understand about them. They will see things differently than you. They’ll approach things differently. It will be up to you to recognize when to encourage them to follow their instincts and when to pull them back. It’s your job to take care of them.�
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He leaped to his feet. “And that’s your first class in becoming a commander. It’s a short one, because all the most important ones are.”
“Are you off to train one of them now?” she asked. “Maybe give them a pep talk, specific to them?”
He smiled. “Of course.”
“Good. Teach them well.” She stood and put her bag over her shoulder.
He nodded approvingly at her.
She slowly walked back to her dorm. Raptor was busy working on some major hacking something or other, so she had to decide what to do with the rest of her evening.
Earlier that day, Peregrine had transformed her into an old lady, complete with wrinkles and thin white hair with pink scalp peeking through. She’d given her lessons on moving slowly and carefully, too.
It had been fun, and Fallon had especially enjoyed scaring the crap out of Raptor by appearing at his door and pretending to be lost and confused.
He’d been endearingly sweet and kind, though. He was a good guy.
Though when she’d revealed herself to him, he’d bopped her on the head pretty hard, before sitting on his bed and laughing his ass off.
He had a good sense of humor, too.
He was perfect, really. Perfect for her. And though they never said it out loud, she loved him.
But as Whelkin had said, she was responsible for him, too. As graduation loomed closer and closer, the deadline for their decision about their relationship also got closer.
She didn’t see how she could love him the way she wanted to, and be able to command him and be responsible for him, too.
For that night, though, she just leaned into him, while she still could.
9
In the days leading up to the championships, the campus grew quieter. And more carefree. With finals over and rankings complete, many students not competing in the championships disappeared. Maybe they went home to enjoy a respite before whatever life handed them next. Or maybe they wanted to steal some time with a lover before they moved on to a job, a graduate program, or OTS.
It was a time of possibilities.
Fallon watched the change come across campus. She’d noticed it less in her previous years at the campus because she’d always been focused on what came next. Now she was able to see what was happening among the people she’d spent the last three years attending classes with, sitting on the quad with, and competing against.
Life on the quad bloomed. People played games, laughed freely, and lolled about on blankets.
Good for them. Fallon understood now the importance of relishing what you have, while you still have it. Of savoring the moment, because soon it would be gone.
Of living in the now.
She thought of herself entirely as Fallon now. It hadn’t been too hard to make the shift. She hadn’t been Emiko for that long. Names were like a hat you put on, depending on where you were going. Identities, she suspected, were the same.
At first, the name had been hollow for her, and she’d had to remind herself to use it. Now, she felt like she inhabited the name, like a new home she’d moved into and made herself comfortable within.
She spent time on the quad, too. Sometimes with Raptor, sometimes with Peregrine. Never with Hawk. She appreciated the vicarious happiness of her other fellow classmates, though she would never be like them.
They were the ones she would spend her life protecting. They, and others like them, were the PAC people who would do all the living and working and loving and dying while she was among the stars, doing who knew what kinds of terrible things.
Somebody had to. She was one of those somebodies. Raptor, Hawk, and Peregrine were those kinds of somebodies, too.
Achievers. Outliers. Heroes.
She laughed at the thought, even as Peregrine sat across from her, looking entirely unimpressed by the frolicking all around them.
Peregrine was hard, but not as hard as she appeared. Otherwise, she wouldn’t appreciate all this as much as Fallon knew she did.
Fallon had all these tenuous connections to Peregrine and Hawk now, and it was up to her to keep building on that foundation. Making them stronger, as a team and as individuals, just as Whelkin had told her they’d need to be.
Better. Fallon refused to lose her teammates.
Peregrine sighed. “Look at all that perfectly good champagne they’re spraying at one another. So stupid.”
Fallon followed her gaze. “Wasteful, certainly. But what are they going to remember when they’re fifty? The cost of the bottle or the joy of the moment?”
Peregrine lifted her hand to her mouth and chewed on the pad of her thumb. She did that during deep thought.
“Maybe,” Peregrine admitted.
“Tell you what,” Fallon said. “I’ll buy you a bottle of whatever champagne you like after the championships. Come meet Hawk and me. We’ll invite Raptor, too. It will be our own version of a last hurrah.”
Peregrine’s subtle half-smile appeared, and Fallon felt victorious.
Sometimes, the tiniest details mattered. Peregrine’s micro expressions definitely counted among these. Every time Fallon earned one, she felt like she’d won a major award.
Peregrine didn’t waste her expressions on just anyone.
“Are you ready?” Fallon asked. “For the championships, I mean.”
Peregrine squinted up toward the fluffy clouds drifting lazily across the sky. “As ready as I’ll get. Time’s up.”
“Yeah,” Fallon echoed. “Time’s up.” With the weight of the future upon her, she understood what she had to do.
Raptor stayed in his quarters the night before the championships began. They both wanted space to focus.
Fallon respected him for valuing that above spending the night with her.
She’d limited her events to only hand-to-hand combat and knife throwing. They were what mattered most to her. Knife throwing was a small niche, but she was like the Robin Hood of knife throwing. She had no worries there.
Combat was another matter. Though she felt confident in her skills, she’d never had the opportunity to study her competition.
She didn’t like being in the dark. She wanted all the information so she could assess it, weigh it, and decide on a strategy.
Instead, she had only her hard-earned skills and her wits.
She arrived in her loose-fitting black shirt and pants. She’d trained in such clothing since before she could remember, and it felt as comfortable as her own skin.
Many championships were open to the public. They were a social event, a coming-of-age ritual. Hand-to-hand combat was one of the few exceptions. The rationale was that judges had to be close and undistracted to render a decision. The reality was that the PAC had to hide their spoofing of identities.
Whoever won would be someone already chosen to move into hidden parts of the PAC. Therefore, the official winner would probably be someone no one knew.
Because it would be some actual first-life person. Or something. Who knew? It wasn’t her place to ask. Someday, she was determined that it would be. For the moment, she wasn’t even officially an OTS cadet.
Fallon didn’t care how the PAC squared it all away. She only cared that she knew she’d won. She needed no public recognition. She just wanted to prove to herself that she was the best, and bring honor to her father.
He didn’t even need to know about it. Honor was its own reward. She would know that his many years of training her and taking her to lessons and competitions had served its purpose.
Now, in the locker room outside the fight ring, she sat on the floor, her back against the lockers. She blew out a long breath, closed her eyes, and visualized success.
With each long inhale, she drew in positive energy. Every exhale expelled all negative thoughts, all doubts, all uncertainty. She had lived the best parts of her life after cleaning herself of negativity and bringing in only honesty, integrity, and life.
Her father had taught her this. She still pictured his smooth, long-fin
gered hands, as they gently held her tiny thumb and forefinger into the shape of infinity, of the universe, of everything and nothingness all at once.
Tears rolled out from behind her closed lids. He’d given her so much. Loved her so completely. It was because of him that she’d found it within herself to fight to where she was today.
She would bring him honor, no matter what it took.
“Emiko Arashi?” A soft voice intruded on her thoughts, and she opened her eyes.
The woman said, just as softly, “It’s time.”
The first rounds were nothing. Laughable. Not worth a half-night’s sleep, much less the deep focus she’d brought forth.
Her opponents were easy to knock down. Easy to pin. Easy to force into submission. They were only the poseurs. The ones whose egos made them think they had what it took.
She moved through three such rounds. Battles that didn’t deserve the name. They didn’t raise her pulse or make her think beyond a plus b equals c.
It was a farce.
Then came the ones who were more capable, with a few tricks but no dedication.
They were a farce, too.
And then came the real competition.
She only witnessed her own fights. After each, she returned to the same spot in the locker room to focus her energy.
Unknown face after vaguely recognized face appeared across from her. She kept expecting Raptor to show up on the other side of the ring, but he never did.
Someone else must have beaten him, because the quiet voice in the locker room told her she’d advanced into the finals.
Two fights, and she’d be the winner.
She’d fought thousands of times. Twice was nothing. She focused only on that, and her confidence in her abilities. She expected these to be the most arduous fights of her life.
She was ready.
When she stepped out of the locker room, adrenaline seeped into her veins. She was ready for this challenge. Eager.
She stepped into the ring and there was Peregrine. Nearly twice her weight and with a blank stare.
Blank to other people. Fallon saw tiny flickers of pride, eagerness, and adrenaline.