by AJ Brooks
“We only wanted to interview her, General, as we often do with those we feel are better suited to a different department.”
“I have never witnessed one of these interviews.”
“You are never so personally invested in the future of any of our Recruits…” Glenand’s voice trails off with accusations, and the General’s features tilt into a dangerous glare.
Frustration locks onto all my joints, and I open my mouth to interject, but the General’s voice booms over my thoughts.
“I am personally invested in every citizen and soldier who resides on this station. Are you implying I’m exercising favoritism to—”
“Excuse me?” I blurt out loudly, current fighting under my uniform. Everyone turns to me, and I silently chastise myself for being unable to keep my mouth closed. Especially when I’m angry. Especially when I could be out on my talisa with nothing. I have their attention now, I may as well argue. “What about what I want? I don’t want to be a soldier. I want to build. I want to fight, but for fun. For exercise. That’s all, Madame Councilwoman. I know I’m not technically a citizen, and I want to contribute, I do. But not as a soldier.”
With a flip of his palm, the General gestures to me like he’s won the argument, and I’m glad I didn’t have to fight this one on my own. With fists, I can fight. With words, not so much. Eight years of near solitude will do that to a person.
“Unfortunately, Miss Langdon, the Council must sign off on all placements, no matter how you or the General feel about it. However, we did discuss this particular outcome and are willing to offer you a compromise. A split placement.”
I don’t understand what a split placement means but a visceral protest starts in my knees and ends with a shaking head.
“You work under Eion in the Weapons department and you attend Advanced Seminar with the new recruits. We understand your personal limitations, which is why you will train academically until further notice.”
I turn over my hands, gloved and protected. “I can’t.”
“This is non-negotiable, Recruit. I’m afraid you’re going to have to find a way.” Glenand taps at her desk, and the screens shut down. Scraping chair legs vibrate through my body as Council members stand and exit the round room through an alternate door. My mind scrambles, trying to find a way out of this.
The best excuse I have is something I’ve never allowed myself to say—the real reason I ended up a prisoner on a military base. Speaking of it would not only cause a world of trouble for me, but also for those my father bribed to keep our secret, the General being one of them. His hard stare is on me now like I better not open my mouth. I know protecting his position is more important than protecting me, but it doesn't stop the small swell of abandonment that boils in the base of my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Helia. I tried.” As he backs from the room, my hands clench into fists, forcing the hurt to anger.
The same soldiers who brought me here are back at my sides, and the urge to hit one of them makes my fingers twitch.
TWO
The perfect connection of my fist to his jaw and Kaygan stumbles into the rusted virtual fence. The screeching metal sounds so real through the headset, and a tendril of excited power spirals up my arm. The surge shorts out my vision long enough for Kaygan’s wild swing to connect with my collarbone. Pain explodes out from the point of contact, fading into my skin like one of my currents. I let out a long growl, using the pain to fuel my fight. Tension burns up in my muscles with every pump of adrenaline-laced blood through my veins.
“Kaygan, you’re better than that,” I taunt, bouncing from foot to foot on the springy mat beneath my feet. Being the champ, I get to design the arena and it’s been the exact same for over a year. The octagon shaped fence sits in the center of a small room, old rusted metal touching every part of it, the same as the one my dad boxed in when I was a kid. Decaying benches line the walls—beautiful and abandoned—and the only sound is the hum of the large air vents overhead.
Kaygan pulls his thick shoulders to his ears as flecks of virtual dust fall around us. The only detail missing from this virtual re-creation of my home ship is the soft scent of cherry tobacco that followed my father everywhere he went. Most of the other recruits pick large shiny arenas with thousands of screaming fans, their need for attention paramount to their ability to fight. The barren silence of this cage unhinges my opponents before I've even thrown a punch.
Kaygan rushes me, and I can’t stop my own arrogant smile. Being fast means nothing when he's pathetically predictable.
A sharp twist, and I catch him with a spinning kick. The little electrodes in the gear send a web of pain through my heel, and Kaygan’s hologram drops.
A loud siren blares through the headset, and with each blink the virtual cage fades like a dying energy cell—slowing, warping, distorting until there's nothing left but me and my heavy breaths. The doors rush open, and I shove off my headgear, blinking fiercely as my eyes adjust to the real world.
Kicking off the shoe clips, I step out into the open training area.
“It can’t be done already?” I say as a flying bottle of water hits my open palm, and I guzzle the whole thing without breathing. Water spills down my chin and chest, taking with it crackling arcs of electricity that jump from one bead of sweat to the next like a meteor shower across my flesh.
“Sunshine, you really need to stop killing people…” Lennie, the ex-soldier in charge of my training, sounds amused as he limps to Kaygan’s cell with his clunky prosthetic leg. He really needs to let me fix that thing, but according to Lennie, implanting control sensors into his brain makes him a cyborg and no amount of arguing has changed his mind.
“I killed him again?” A small laugh escapes as I cap the water bottle and throw it onto a long bench along the wall of the training quad. Short dividers and glass cubes separate the massive space into specific training sections, and I try to quash the knowledge that I will soon be one of those drill-obsessed trainees.
“You know the only reason you win is because you’re a filthy Mutt,” Kaygan snarls the derogatory term at me, and shock pulls me away from the other recruits. The name—meaning mutant—doesn't bother me like it used to when I was young, when I was new to my Mods and eager to make friends. But there will always be that familiar feeling of singed flesh whenever someone touches me with the term.
“It helps.” I snap my fingers and current spins around my hand and sinks into my skin. The crackle of energy is loud enough to make Kaygan flinch, a hateful glare twisting his ugly features. Being Genetically Modified isn’t something that wins people’s hearts, but with Kaygan? I won his scorn when I dethroned him as King of the Cage.
“Come on, Kaygan,” I say, sliding my gloves up to my elbows, trapping the electricity and my smoldering feelings inside. “When are you going to find something a little more original?”
Kaygan yanks me toward him by my wrist, his other thick arm cocked. Panic swirls through me, carrying with it bolts of energy that I can’t hold onto. He swings at me, and halfway his body goes rigid, his muscles twitching from his jaw to his bare forearms. It takes me a moment to wade through my shock and register his hand on me, his convulsing body. In a rush, everything slows down, and I wrench my wrist, but I can’t break contact. The current flows through the special gloves and holds him stiff. It's not strong enough to kill him, but too much for him to fight.
“Lennie!” The pitch of my voice tilts sharply with fear. “Lennie, help!”
Lennie throws his thick body at Kaygan, and I brace myself. As they hit the ground I yank my arm, stumbling into a rack of free weights. They clatter to the ground, louder than my pounding heart. The excess current that always accompanies high emotions ripples along the exposed skin of my neck and chest. The lights above hum with the added charge in the air, pulsing with every beat of my heart. My vision crackles as a bead of sweat drips into my eye.
The sweat. The sweat is making the gloves less effective.
�
�You almost killed me, Mutt.” Kaygan lunges for a fifty-pound free weight rolling along the floor, and I scramble backward.
“Stand down, Recruit.” Lennie's usual playful tone booms with a command I’ve never heard. A crowd builds around us. My body wants to take a fight stance, but my brain can’t catch up to what’s happening around or inside of me.
Kaygan spits on the floor at my feet. “You shouldn’t even be allowed here. You’re not even a person. They should have sent you to the Circuit for slaughter.”
Lennie jabs Kaygan in the neck with a small tube-shaped device, making him immediately drowsy. Thick hooded lids droop over his hate-filled eyes.
“Murderer…” he slurs as Lennie lowers him to the ground.
A few ragged breaths do nothing to stop the flood of visions that always accompany a surge in my power; being ripped from my father’s arms, the months in confinement, the arguments that raged over the top of my bowed head as I awaited my fate. Raw current spirals through me, getting hotter as the spectators grow. I hug my stomach tight to keep in the rush of energy. This is why I can't train. This is exactly why I can't be a soldier like they want me to. I hurt people.
The shake starts in my toes and works its way up, loosening all the excess energy in my body. Like atoms colliding inside me, the pulsing heat expands.
With a wave of his hand, Lennie has Athenian soldiers pick up Kaygan’s tranquilized body. Three pairs of cautious eyes pin me to the glass as they pass. Breath stutters across my tongue as I try to control the increasing voltage.
“Helia?” Lennie’s voice is soft through the haze of panic.
“I didn’t mean to.” Our eyes connect, and his concerned features remind me too much of my father’s—pity and fear all rolled into one and that hovering stance when he doesn’t know whether to come to me or run away.
“Helia, you can’t let him get to you. It’s your only weakness.”
Static ripples through the air and shifts Lennie’s blond hair as if a breeze passed through the room.
“Hey!” he yells as I push off the glass, his artificial leg heavy on the floor, but he’s fast. Fingers wrap around my elbow, and I spin, yanking my arm.
“Don’t touch me!” Horror rakes through me at the thought of electrocuting Lennie; I can’t hurt one of the few people on Athena who treats me like I’m not only half a person.
Lennie’s hands rise in the air, covered in the thick gloves he always wears when training me. I stumble, layers of worry, anger, and frustration compressing inside of me, creating a pressurized heat I can’t contain.
“Overcome it, Helia.”
I try breathing. I try positive self-talk. I try everything. When the current consumes me, I can’t stop it. Past a certain point, I can’t contain it. I have to release it. It will kill me. Or worse… someone else.
Purple arcs snap and pop along my skin, and I know it’s too late to get to the only safe place I have—my workshop.
“The bag,” Lennie says, hobbling quickly toward another glass encased room with a single heavy bag hanging in the center. The motion sensor door slides open, and I go straight for it.
Once safely locked inside, the uncontrollable power fills me up, and I let it loose.
***
Completely drenched in sweat, I slam my knee repeatedly into the heavy bag, letting out a loud cleansing breath with each hit. Time is a blur, but the overwhelming energy in my chest has subsided to its normal hum.
“I really should hook you up during your surges.” The unmistakable voice of my best friend Eion cuts through the static-filled room. “You could power this whole space station when you go nuts like this.”
Her fingers wiggle above her tight black curls, dancing in the electric storm I created.
“I am not nuts.” The last of the electric sparks sink into my skin, and Eion’s full diamond-shaped lips stretch into a wide smile, one thick eyebrow lifting. The umber-hued skin of her forehead wrinkles in disbelief.
“No, completely calm and collected. That’s why you’re a one-woman thunderstorm.”
A thunderstorm is something that happens on Kronos. With lightning. I’ve seen pictures of them, but I’ve never set foot on any natural planet. Dad always said it was too dangerous for people like us. I never knew what he meant, but looking around at the cracked glass and smoldering heavy bag, I do now.
Eion crosses her thin arms across her blue and black uniform, which tells me she’s still on duty.
“Did you come to make fun of me?” I slide my gloves on, conscious of another person being too close.
Eion grabs my jacket and tosses it to me. It’s on and zipped up to my neck over my Cage uniform before she answers.
“I thought we could walk to the Hall together. Lennie told me about what happened with Kaygan.”
A small bump of power carried by my hatred of even his name pushes through my body, and I stop to collect it.
“You need to stop letting him get to you like that,” she continues.
“You sound like Lennie.”
Eion stops, places her hands on her hips, and faces me.
“Because he makes a good point, Helia. What did Kaygan even say to make you go full surge?”
The rumors about me are rampant, and I know Eion has heard them all, but even she doesn’t know which ones are true. When she won’t let it go, I sigh.
“He said I should be handed over to the Circuit for slaughtering.” I leave out the murderer part because the Circuit is enough to make her gasp. The alien rebel group that call themselves the Circuit are a mystery even to Athena. The rebel organization is the dark shadow of our galaxy, surfacing only to swallow up small space crafts. Rumor has it they hate Gen-Mods even more than humans do. Some extremist groups call them the Exterminators, ridding the world of Mutts. That’s really all we were ever taught about them in General Knowledge and I’ve always felt the lack of knowledge about their origins and ambitions makes them truly scary.
“He’s so mean sometimes.” Eion shakes her head, and an unplanned laugh scrambles up my throat.
“That’s one way to put it.” I’m done talking about Kaygan, so I gesture to the door and it slides open.
A steady heavy drumming fills the space around us. The echo belongs to a group of perfectly aligned officers who don’t belong to Athena. The filtered air swirls around me and carries with it a humid tension. Recognition crushes me behind a wall of panic. Every blink is a snapshot from my past. Kronos officers grabbing me, forcing me to the ground with rubber batons…
“Helia, are you okay?” Eion whispers, and I close my eyes, shaking my head. The visions won’t let go no matter how hard I shake.
“I thought… I thought the treaty summit wasn’t until next week?” I shove the memories beneath a calm expression.
A fresh batch of SPARK officers pass by, the ground shaking with their heavy boots. They move like robots, further unnerving me.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
Black boots, black pants, fitted black jackets zipped to their necks. They have on helmets and visors that shield their eyes and cover their noses. The only thing that sets them apart from Cyborgs is the twitch in their exposed jaws as they pass. The last time SPARK was here, they brought me with them—a prisoner.
The prospect of bumping into an officer keeps me tight against the wall with my hands in front of my chest.
Row after row pass by, almost convincing me they are Cyborgs until one soldier with a particularly hard set mouth turns his head. A vibration deep in my core hums as the air thins. It’s as if time is being stretched out and wrapped around me. Even though I can’t see his eyes, I know he’s looking at me. The smooth black surface of the officer’s visor reflects my own curious expression until the soldier behind him jabs a gun in his spine, and he returns to Cyborg position.
“Do you know him?” Eion swings her arm, and I have to hop backward to keep her from touching me. A loud snap of electricity rings through my ears, my boots catching on each other a
s I stumble. Being careless is not like her. In the workshop, she glides around me like a dance; anticipating each other’s actions is second nature to us.
“How would I know him, E? Seriously.” Kaygan is one thing but if I hurt Eion, I’d never forgive myself. There is no more room for guilt in my heart.
“Right. I guess you wouldn’t. But it looked like he knew you?”
“It did. Probably an old recruit. Some guy I beat down in the Cage?” There is no other explanation. Athenian soldiers rarely get sent to Kronos, but it does happen. It might happen to me unless I can convince the Council they made a terrible decision.
The thumping soldiers disappear around a corner, heading toward the Harbor, and my crowd-induced paralysis slowly lifts, expanding my chest and clearing my head.
“Girls,” a sharp voice makes us both spin to face Isha, the director of Technologies and my mentor—the one who didn’t bother to come to my meeting the other day and advocate for me.
“Do you have nowhere you need to be at this moment?” Standing six inches taller than my five-ten, I’m not sure how much of her height is heels and how much is attitude. Either way, both Eion and I stand in soldier position, ready and at attention.
“Yes, Miss. We were on our way to my workshop—”
Isha waves her hand. The interruption ripples through my shoulders like it always does, and I chew on both my tongue and select the words I always have waiting for her, ready to unleash the moment I get the guts for it.
“I need to speak with you about this new split placement the Council has demanded.” There’s a distain in her voice I recognize. Council is a beloved government institution to everyone but Isha. Believing they stand in the way of progress and organic decision making, it’s a miracle that we agree on one thing.