New Blood

by Zen DiPietro

  No fear. No regret. Just like Fallon.

  The bell rang.

  Peregrine’s reach was greater, and she was stronger. They circled around each other slowly, doing little test jabs and feints. They knew nothing about each other’s fighting styles. Fallon didn’t know whether to expect a boxer, a brawler, or a martial artist.

  When Peregrine finally threw a real punch, with all of her weight behind it, she knew.

  The woman was a boxer, or something like it. Her strikes had incredible power. If Fallon got on the wrong end of one of those hits, she’d be knocked out cold.

  Fortunately, her style was like grease. She slipped aside. Sideways. Dodged. Used Peregrine’s power to pull her off-balance. Waited for her moment.

  It wasn’t easy. Peregrine was explosive. Tough. And she could take a hit.

  Finding that opening wouldn’t be easy. How much stamina did Peregrine have? Such a big person expended a lot of energy. She could tire her out.

  And she did. Fallon dodged, ducked, and slid aside, greasy as a bulkhead with a metric ton of solvent spread over it. She didn’t risk taking any hits to gain an advantage because Peregrine’s strikes were too forceful.

  Finally, after a ridiculously long thirty-minute bout with no breaks, Peregrine slowed. She was tiring.

  It was time.

  Fallon watched for her opening. After another wicked strike that probably would have given her brain damage, Fallon ducked under it, leaped onto Peregrine, and forced her to the ground. She slipped sideways, her thighs around Peregrine’s neck, and locked her ankles.

  Either Peregrine tapped out or choked out. Once they were on the mat, those were the only two choices. As hard as Peregrine pulled at Fallon’s knees, there was no getting loose.

  She hit the mat three times, tapping out.

  Fallon leapt to her feet, helped Peregrine up, and hugged her. Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t know why. Peregrine gripped her right back in a huge bear hug.

  “Break it up!” The referee shouted, pulling at them. He didn’t know what he was seeing.

  “It’s okay,” Fallon said, releasing her partner.

  “We’re good,” Peregrine said, letting go.

  They were both fighters, and partners, and from then on, they’d be fighting on the same side. Far more than the rush of winning, Fallon felt the satisfaction of belonging.

  She returned to the locker room, sat again, and tried to return to her earlier state of zen. It didn’t come as easily. She’d been seduced by the glow of belonging and acceptance. Peregrine had felt it, too.

  Maybe it was better. Maybe she needed ego. In her mind’s eye, she’d always seen the final fight going down a particular way. And when she was summoned for the final time to come to the ring, she knew she had been right.

  The ant and the elephant. Fallon against Hawk. He gave her no hint of recognition of friendship. He glared at her, sweating, glistening, and bulging.

  How the scrap was someone her age built like that? He was a bloody tank.

  No, a furious tank.

  And he was here to win.

  Fallon set her jaw. So was she.

  She barely ducked out of the way of a punch. How was he so fast? He was too big to be that fast.

  But he was. He was incredible.

  As slick and evasive as she was, he grazed her with his strikes, over and over. Across the ribs. Across the cheekbone. She always turned aside, but just a millisecond too late.

  She couldn’t get her arms around his throat. Couldn’t land that one, decisive strike to his temple. He was far too big to unbalance.

  He had the upper hand. Still, she was quicker. She tried to tire him out like she had Peregrine, but the guy was a machine. His force never let up.

  She had no choice but to look for a killing blow. The kind Whelkin had taught her to look for, to end a fight quickly when she was outmatched.

  Except he’d taught Hawk the same techniques. She saw him guarding against her. Again and again, he made her fall back, ceding ground to him.

  She was in trouble. This was no stalemate. This was him wearing her down.

  She ducked, dodged, and wondered if this was what it felt like to lose something really important. She’d thought that if she worked hard enough, and never spared herself pain or doubt, she could always push through. It wasn’t happening this time.

  Then her shot appeared. Like the clouds of a storm suddenly parting and dark skies giving way to sudden, blinding sun, her opportunity appeared. He put every ounce of everything he had into a punch to her solar plexus, trying to take her down once and for all.

  And he left his throat exposed. Just for an instant. Just long enough. She could launch a punch, straight up from her feet, through her toes, to uppercut right into his trachea.

  He’d go down. Unable to breathe. She’d win. Emiko Arashi, or Fallon, or whatever the hell they wanted to name her, she’d be the champion.

  Except.

  Except she’d probably crush Hawk’s trachea.

  He’d probably be rendered unable to breathe.

  Even though emergency support was on hand, they might not be able to help him.

  She’d come to the academy to win. To be the best, no matter what. And here Hawk was, ready to punch her full force to take that from her.

  A moment of clarity peeked through her singularity of purpose. Maybe it was zen, or maybe it was loyalty.

  He was hers. Hers to protect. Her teammate, and someone who, undoubtedly, would be her protector in the future. Could she risk his life to win?

  She took the shot, but slowly enough that she knew it wouldn’t hit the target.

  He blocked it with one arm and landed the blow to her chest with the other.

  Time shattered around her. She didn’t feel the impact of falling on her back. She felt only the inability to draw a breath. The inability to process anything around her. She rallied everything she had to gasp in a breath.

  A horrible sound filled her ears, of her own breath. Big, gentle hands moved her onto her side. She coughed, gasped, and sputtered in the way a loser did.

  Words were said, a champion declared, but Fallon heard none of it clearly. It was a vague impression she had on her periphery.

  Strong arms lifted her, taking her away from the noise. She saw flashes of ceiling, floor, and lockers. And then faces. Hawk. Then Peregrine and Raptor approached, looking worried.

  “I’m good,” she rasped. Even to her own ears, she did not sound good.

  A pouch of biogel was put to her lips. She wasn’t dehydrated, but apparently that was all they could think of to do. She sipped at it, though she didn’t want it. In the distance, she heard a disagreement, a growling threat, then ensuing silence.

  Her chest eased up and she took her first, full, deep breath. Color rushed back into her world. After two more breaths, sound returned to normal.

  “I’m good,” she said again. She squinted at Hawk. “Did you just threaten the emergency medical team?”

  He broke into a grin, relief lighting his eyes. “Yeah. I did. You just had the wind knocked out of you. You didn’t need their bullshit.”

  She laughed, coughed, and laughed some more.

  “Congratulations on winning,” she said.

  “No. You won. You just chose not to prove it to anyone else. But you and I know.” His eyes were warm in a way she’d never seen before.

  “You’re mine to look out for,” she said. “All of you. And I’m going to take care of you, no matter how much of my blood and bone it takes.”

  Tears came to her eyes again for no good reason, pissing her off. She wasn’t someone who ever cried about anything. Ever.

  “We’ll take care of you, too.” Hawk put his hand on hers. “Blood and bone.”

  Raptor added his hand. “Blood and bone.”

  Peregrine put hers on top. “Blood and bone.”

  Fallon put her other hand on Peregrine’s.

  They were a team. For the rest of their lives, however
long that was, these were her three partners.

  They were Avian unit. And they were going to kick so much ass.

  Raptor, Hawk, and Peregrine attended the knife-throwing competition. Fallon easily won. She didn’t even have to try hard, which was a bit of a disappointment.

  But it made her heart swell to see her team cheering for her when she received her prize—a knife engraved with the name Emiko Arashi and the words Grand Champion.

  “‘Arashi’” means ‘storm', right?” Hawk asked after slamming down an entire glass of something vile at his favorite bar.

  Oh, yes, she had held them to their promise of going out for drinks.

  “Yes.” She looked at him in surprise.

  “Don’t look so shocked,” he groused. “I can look shit up.”

  She laughed and bought him another drink. It only seemed fair.

  Then he bought a round for them all. “What are the odds that the top three fighters in our class are right here?” he asked.

  Raptor shrugged, biting into a pretzel knot. “Probably not too terrible, all things considered.”

  Hawk frowned at him. “Shut up. I’m being poetic, here. Or metaphorical. Or…I dunno, some kind of fancy-pants thoughtful. Whatever.”

  Raptor grinned at him.

  Hawk pointed at him. “And you keep that preppy-boy smile to yourself. I think you’re just jealous that you’re the only one here not among the top three.”

  Hawk looked at Peregrine and Fallon, then slanted a taunting look at Raptor, who laughed.

  They laughed and ate and drank into the wee hours. Far later than Fallon’s disciplined bedtime. But all rules needed to be bent sometimes, and she suspected that the further she went into the future, the more truth she’d find in that idea.

  By the time she made it back to her dorm that night, with Raptor in tow, she felt better than she wanted to. Not nearly as drunk as she’d hoped.

  She had some unpleasant business to deal with still. With the championships over and graduation looming, she knew what she needed to do.

  He knew it, too.

  “I’ve been waiting for this,” he said, sitting beside her on the bed without touching her.

  “So, you know it’s the right thing to do, right? I mean, we’re on our way to becoming officers. Our time to be selfish is over. We have to think about the team now.”

  “Yeah,” he said. His reply sounded more like a sigh than a proper word. “It’s bigger than us now, isn’t it?”

  “Wasn’t it always? You and I were never aiming for simple office jobs. Finding each other was a surprise along the way.”

  “A good surprise,” he said.

  “An incredible surprise,” she admitted. “I never expected to have what we have. And when I found out we’d be on the same team, I was thrilled, thinking it didn’t have to end. But…”

  “But we have two other people to think about now. It’s not just us.”

  “Yeah. How does that work? What if our relationship clouds our vision? Or unbalances our team?”

  “I know. I’ve thought about it, too. Still.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “It won’t be easy for you and me to keep our distance. To just be partners. We have to try, though.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face, and she’d never felt worse in her life.

  He put his arm around her and she realized that he would always be better than her. Not at fighting, but at being a good person. He would go along with this decision for the sake of the team, and her, and he’d still be kind to her.

  She didn’t deserve him.

  He took a teasing tone she’d long since become accustomed to. “We could always chuck it all. Go be freelancers. Me, a hacker, you, a high-profile bodyguard.”

  She made a sound, and even she didn’t know if it was a laugh or a sob. “That’s stupid. Why would we settle for less? I want to be the best.”

  “It wouldn’t be less if we were together,” he argued. “And we might even live to see old age. Does that not sound at all good to you?”

  She pulled away, then sighed and leaned into him instead.

  He wrapped his arm around her.

  “I’ve aimed my whole life at being the best. Even though I know you’re just joking, I can’t help thinking about it. But as much as I care about you, I can’t forget about how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. If I missed my opportunity, I might grow to resent you. Maybe even hate you. Besides, we have Hawk and Peregrine to think about. It’s not just about us.”

  He rubbed her hand between both of his. “I guess that’s it, then.”

  “I’m sorry. This is just the way I’m made.”

  “I know. I always knew that.” He nudged her and smiled. “I just thought it was worth a try. To be sure. Now we know.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” She didn’t know if it was better to have considered chucking it all. It was too irresponsible, and yet, in a tiny way, tempting.

  “After graduation, we’ll have to find a way to be just partners.”

  “I know.” Young Fallon raised her hands to cup his face. She leaned in and kissed him. “That’s three weeks away, though. For now, we can just…” She trailed off, sliding into his lap and running her hands under his shirt. Raptor didn’t argue with her plan.

  Graduation day was great, and exciting, and strange.

  Her family couldn’t come, given that she wasn’t attending under a name they knew. If they looked that name up, they’d find her, along with all the regular statistics, and a dummy acceptance into OTS, but there was too much risk for exposure.

  She didn’t know how PAC command managed such things, but they must, somehow. Maybe someday she’d understand it.

  Besides, her parents, thanks to their own backgrounds, probably knew how to read between the lines and hear the things that weren’t said. They knew that she’d always had high aspirations. So instead of attending, they sent their congratulations and proud wishes via voicecom.

  She could only wonder what Raptor, Hawk, and Peregrine received from their families. If they had families.

  Still, they went through the ceremony, and Fallon snickered as Hawk and Peregrine graduated as Olag and Poppy. The names were too funny, and she intended to tease them about it the next time they all met up at the bar. Which was becoming a much more regular thing.

  Actually, they’d probably meet up that night, to celebrate graduation.

  She smiled, thinking about drinks, pretzel knots, and telling exaggerated stories loosely based on actual events.

  Hawk specialized in those.

  She smiled bigger, thinking of the years ahead, and the many, many times they’d probably repeat that experience.

  The lazy days of rest they had after championships and graduation felt like a reward for the fast pace Fallon had kept for the past three years. The campus emptied out gradually, until only a handful of students remained.

  Then that tiny but highly appreciated respite was suddenly over.

  It was time to move on to whatever came next.

  OTS loomed, and she knew little of what that would be like. Unlike the academy, OTS didn’t happen all in one place. They’d get their basic training in how to be an officer first, here on Earth. Then they’d begin duty rotations in various locations, in accordance with their specialties.

  Most likely, there would be times when they’d separate to receive their own specialized training, then come together again as a team.

  She didn’t know. Her future was a big, exciting question mark. At least she knew that whatever came her way, she’d have a team to go back to. People who would keep growing to better understand her. They’d make a new sort of family.

  Today, she had an entirely different mission.

  “Are you sure?” She pushed a vial back and forth with her fingertip before Peregrine snatched it away. The vial had teensy little black bits that looked like a fine powder.

  “Completely. Hawk says his guy knows what he’s doing, and will keep his mouth shut.”
Peregrine’s jaw was set.

  Fallon looked from Hawk to Peregrine. Was she really going to let some tattoo artist put whatever Peregrine had invented into her skin?

  Yeah. She was. She had to trust her teammates.

  Off they went, taking a groundcar to the nearby city. Hawk’s friend looked rough, with tattoos on every bit of visible skin except for his face. He had a scar that cut through one of his eyebrows, too.

  His shop was clean, though. As clinically organized and spot-free as a hospital. She even smelled a disinfectant bite in the air.

  Hawk nodded to her, assuring her that this guy was for real.

  After taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll go first. Let’s do this.”

  She felt no fear or doubt. She would prove her trust in her teammates, and show them she’d put herself in front of anything for them.

  She lay on a table and pulled up her shirt to expose her abdomen.

  “Here.” She pointed to the left of her navel.

  The tattoo artist, who went by the name of Fam, shaved and cleaned her skin with the efficiency of a healthcare professional.

  His expertise reassured her.

  He picked up the dermal injector, checked it, then reached for the vial Peregrine had given him. It held a unique blend of ink and nano-transmitters.

  “Here’s the design.” Peregrine set the infoboard on the table on Fam’s other side.

  He gave it a long look, then nodded. “What is it?”

  The looping design looked vaguely like a clover leaf, but with more swirls. Peregrine had created it.

  “Just a design based on ancient Atalan hieroglyphs.” She shrugged. “We thought it was cool.”

  “I’ve seen a lot worse,” Fam said.

  Fallon got the feeling he was the kind of guy who rarely praised anything. But she liked the design. Peregrine had taken the words for blood and bone, interlinked them, and made them into a unique image.

  It was a good thing she liked it, since it would now be inked on her body.

  She didn’t know if PAC command would approve of this, but they had no intention of telling anyone what the tattoos really were.