“You’re okay,” I say. I thought for sure Ice Eyes’s attack had gotten him, and if not that, then Johann’s flames as they rushed past. I hope he can’t sense how relieved I am that he’s safe. I really didn’t want to be responsible for a teammate’s death on my first mission back. Especially not someone so hopelessly sincere.
He doesn’t look at me. “Mendel pulled me out of range before the attack hit.” Mendel’s telekinesis must have been what saved me, too, then. I hadn’t expected him to ever be my savior.
“Why did you come back up here?” I ask. “You’re a long-range fighter. You should’ve stayed out of it.”
His lips purse as he tightens the bandaging around my foot. I wince. “With the terrain, I couldn’t fight from a distance this time. Even if I’d tried, I didn’t know the range of the enemy’s gift; there’s every possibility that rebel could’ve reached me regardless.” He finally meets my eyes. “And I wasn’t about to abandon my teammate.”
I find I have to look away. My eyes come to rest on Johann, some distance away from us. With an irritable wave of the sergeant major’s hand, all the flames disappear. Ice Eyes is gone.
“Is the base cleared out?” Kitahara asks. He finishes fastening the bandages in place on my foot and looks to Mendel.
“Should be,” Mendel says, but he glances down the crater like he expects rebels to come swarming out of the smoldering gates any second. “Ten guards, right?”
Kitahara nods. “I don’t sense anyone, either. Okay. Let’s contact Central and get out of here before any more reinforcements show up. Johann and I will get the bycs. Mendel, Cathwell, wait here for us.”
“Yessir,” Mendel says.
If I’d thought it was suspicious how fast, and how obediently, the corporal agreed to that command, it was with good reason. As soon as Kitahara and Johann are out of sight, Mendel turns to me.
“Cathwell, why was that rebel trying to take you with her? They tried to kill the rest of us.”
I keep my gaze trained on my bandaged foot and half shrug. I’d been hoping no one had noticed.
“Don’t play dumb.” His carefree act is nowhere to be found now. “You’re the one who pushed Kitahara off the cliff, aren’t you? Normally you’d want someone there to have your back in a fight. But you didn’t. You knew they wouldn’t kill you, so you were trying to protect him. Weren’t you?”
I’m careful to make sure my expression doesn’t change, but inside, I’m fuming. Was Mendel this perceptive before? When did he even have time to notice what Kitahara and I were doing up here when he was in the middle of a battle so far away? Would Kitahara have had time to tell him? “My job was to guard Kitahara,” I say. “So I guarded Kitahara.”
“Don’t parrot that at me.” His attention is trained in the direction Johann and Kitahara disappeared. “How is it that someone who’s been locked up in prison for the last two and a half years manages to take down three rebels on her own anyway? ’Specially someone who’s always so distracted.” His eyes narrow. “On our way here, too. You said something about the night approaching even though it was still morning. Why?”
Damn it all. I just had to slip up there. “I only meant we needed to get back before night fell. Is that so strange?”
I’m so close to convincing him he was overthinking things. Even his thoughts are split: wanting to believe someone as off-kilter as me really is just that versus his gut instinct telling him something about me is off—and not in the sense of being distracted and fidgety. He knows I’m hiding something. I feel the switch in his thoughts as he realizes it.
“What are you trying to hide?” he asks.
I stare at him, hoping the blank look will work like usual.
It doesn’t. The same invisible force from before slams into me, crushing me against the ground with so much weight I can barely breathe. Rocks pierce my skin. My lungs burn. “Answer me, Cathwell.”
Then, as fast as it came, the pressure is gone. I’m jerked back upright into a sitting position.
Before I can fully register the sudden change, a clattering of rocks sounds nearby. Kitahara and Johann have returned.
“Any sign of enemy reinforcements?” Kitahara asks.
Mendel cocks a grin. “All clear.”
The major nods, then glances down at the base. Smoke from Johann’s fire still rises in plumes, but there’s no sign of life. “General Austin said to maintain our position until backup arrives to take over. Be on your guard.”
“Will do,” Mendel says, throwing another of his two-fingered salutes.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye, but he betrays nothing of our exchange.
Fine. If that’s the way he wants to play, then I can play just as well. After all, games are my specialty.
8
JAY
THANKFULLY, THE COUNCIL is pleased with the results of Team One’s first mission. There were no major casualties and the rebel base was commandeered by military forces soon after it was cleared out.
However, as I walk down the gray stone hallways of Central, I’m feeling much less optimistic about the situation. Johann nearly killed Cathwell in his attempt to stop the rebel near her, and I get the sense Mendel only saved us because it would have been more troublesome if we had died. It’s as though neither of them cares.
I’ll need to deal with Mendel soon. Of everyone, unexpectedly, he unsettles me the most. I’d thought he was a neutral party, but I’ve come to realize that isn’t necessarily a good thing. It’s as though he doesn’t care about stopping the rebels. Johann is stubborn and impatient, but easy to understand; he says what he thinks. He does what he wants, but I do think he honestly wants to put an end to the rebel threat. Cathwell is difficult for her own reasons, but at least she’s attempting to make this team work. That’s more than I can say for either Mendel or Johann.
Three soldiers walk down the hall in my direction. They’re joking about something; their voices drift light and nimble in the air—but the words abruptly die when they see me. They keep their eyes down and continue forward in silence as we pass one another. It isn’t until they’re well past me that their voices bring the hall back to life once more.
I wonder if there will ever be a day when the other soldiers see me as a comrade instead of some “other.” If I could ever slip into a conversation with ungifted soldiers without them shying away.
When I enter the infirmary, the hushed whispers of conversation coming from the rear of the room halt. The two nurses who had been speaking watch me. They don’t make any move to welcome me in.
Cathwell is sitting up in her bed, staring out the window while her hands pull back and forth at each other. Her presence pulses a low, steady teal.
I’m glad she’s calm after everything that happened. I was worried she’d be in shock after such a close mission, especially since she hasn’t seen a real battle in so long.
She doesn’t look up as I approach.
I sit in the chair next to her. “How are you feeling today, Cathwell?”
“Same as yesterday.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Silence descends between us and I don’t know what to say. The same thing happened yesterday, the day before, and the day before that, until I eventually excused myself.
I need to figure out how to get her to come around to being more active in the team. Whenever Johann and Mendel go at it with each other, she merely watches. I need her to focus more, too. She needs to be here. With us. And yet I can never find the words to convey all this. Part of me feels guilty even trying to bring it up when she’s sitting here injured. I just haven’t been able to do it.
For the time being, I should get to know her better. Get to a point where we’re both comfortable around each other.
“You should be released soon, right?” I say. “That must be a relief.”
“Mm. Hey, Major?” Her gaze is still on the window.
“Yes?”
“Why do you keep coming to visit me? We barely know each other.�
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“You’re my teammate,” I say. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
“You don’t personally care about me, then. It’s just because we work together?”
“That’s not…”
I trail off when she finally looks at me. There’s something dead in her expression.
The worst part is that it isn’t even because she’s my teammate that I came to visit her. Starting with Cathwell seems the most effectual way to getting our team to work together. So far, she’s shown the most willingness to work with everyone. She tried to protect me when the rebels snuck up on us—though I already told her on a previous visit that it’s better to fight together. And if I can figure out a way for her to overcome her distractedness, then Johann shouldn’t have a problem with her any longer. Then perhaps Mendel will, I don’t know, join in once he sees all of us getting along. It could happen.
“Why are you trying so hard, Major?” Cathwell asks. “Why not let things be?”
Am I that easy to read? “Trying so hard at what, Cathwell?”
“Everything.” She runs her fingers down her splinted upper arm. Luckily there were only fractures. Her foot was not so lucky. “You don’t have to go so far.”
I frown. “If I don’t, then what will happen to the sector? Our team is one of the only things potentially capable of holding off the rebels until the High Council comes up with a more definitive plan. If we fail, the rebels may carry out their threat to destroy Sector Eight.”
“So what?” She watches me out of the corners of her eyes. “If the rebels win, then don’t the Etioles get what they deserve for the way they’ve treated us? Even when it comes to defending themselves, instead of doing it themselves, they get Nytes to fight for them. And all the while, they continue to treat us like trash.”
For a heartbeat, I’m too stunned to speak. How could she even say something like that? And so calmly? Her presence hasn’t so much as flickered since I first came. Still that same deep, still pool of composure. As if it doesn’t concern her at all.
I stand. My hands tremble by my sides as I attempt to keep my emotions in check. “How can you even say that? These are innocent people we’re talking about. Even though some of them have abused Nytes, that doesn’t mean they deserve to die—and certainly not all of them.”
“So we’ll defend the Etioles despite the fact they continue to treat us as less than human. We’ll fight for them, defend them—maybe even die for them—even as they continue to persecute us.” Her tone is deadpan throughout. “Even as they continue to kill, and beat, and chase Nytes from their homes.”
My fingernails pierce my palms. “Doing the right thing isn’t about abandoning thousands of people just because some of them hurt you. It’s about defending everyone’s right to live. Etioles included.”
Cathwell watches me closely—and I abruptly get the feeling she was testing me. Her emotions haven’t shifted once during our whole conversation. Not to fear, not to anger, not to any of the usual things people feel when they talk about the discrimination they’ve faced. But why? What is she even testing me for?
“Cathwell, why did you come back to the military?” I ask. “You appear to hate Etioles so much. Why come back to fight for them?”
“I don’t hate them,” she says quietly. There’s no itch behind my eyes that inevitably follows after someone lies. Her fingers twist through the sheets. “What I really want is to change how they view us. To make a world where Etioles and Nytes can live together without discrimination or persecution.” Her eyes fall further. “I thought I could better accomplish that from here.”
I try to picture it. No graffiti on the sides of buildings saying the only good Nyte is a dead Nyte. No stares, mutters, or thrown stones as I walk through the streets in uniform. No sudden silences or averted gazes when I get near ungifted soldiers in the military—the people who should most be on my side.
Cathwell lets out a deep sigh. “Almost everyone I have ever been close to is dead or gone. And I can’t help but think it’s because I’m a Nyte. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that anymore.”
I truly don’t know what to say to that. But her calm wavers on my grid for the first time, and she looks so sad, I reach out and squeeze her hand. She freezes under my touch. “It’s okay, Cathwell. I won’t leave you.”
She closes her eyes; I can’t fathom her expression. Her presence on my internal grid has resumed its previous stillness. “Thanks, Major.”
“Why do you keep calling me Major and not Kitahara?” I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Why do you keep calling me Cathwell?” she asks.
“Would you prefer Lieutenant?”
“Lai.”
“What?”
“My name. You can call me Lai.”
She looks up at me and I notice for the first time just how dark her azure eyes are. They’re pretty.
The thought catches me off guard—I withdraw my hand quickly. Too quickly. My face warms.
“I have to meet with the others before my shift on guard duty begins,” I say. Gods, that was such an obvious exit. What am I doing?
“Trying to make everyone cooperate with one another?” Cathwell asks. She appears to be thinking something over as she speaks, and that something doesn’t seem to be my awkwardness. “This isn’t going to work much longer if something doesn’t change.”
“I was thinking the same.”
“I can help.”
“That’s okay.” I stand. “You just get plenty of rest so you can come back soon, all right?”
“Going back to the battlefield,” she says. Her eyes burn into the back of my neck as I walk away. “How fun.”
9
LAI
THE INFIRMARY IS dead boring. At least in prison I had my piano or could work on my tasks with the Order.
It’s been less than a week since I physically checked in to the Order’s headquarters, but I’m already starting to get anxious. I just want to drop through the nearest window and head there now, but obviously I can’t. For one, it’s broad daylight. I’d be caught instantly. For another, there are still things I need to do here.
As if on some strange cue, a black butterfly drifts through the wall beside my bed. Luckily the shadow messengers are invisible to everyone except their intended recipient, so I don’t have to worry about any of the nurses seeing it and becoming suspicious.
I frown and hold out a finger, but it chooses to circle around me instead of landing. No message, then. Just a reminder. Or a warning.
I need to get going.
One of the head nurses passes by with an armful of freshly cleaned sheets. I wave to him. “Excuse me. I was wondering if I could walk around outside for a bit?”
The nurse watches me with a more guarded expression than I think the situation calls for. “You know patients aren’t allowed to leave the infirmary until officially released.”
“I wouldn’t go far,” I say as politely as I can manage. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. “My injuries are almost healed, and I wouldn’t do anything dangerous. I’m just starting to go a little stir-crazy cooped up in here.”
The nurse eyes me suspiciously. He’s well aware Nytes heal much faster than Etioles, so he knows I’m not lying about my injuries. She’s going to be released in another day or two, so her wounds can’t be that bad anymore. But do I really want to be responsible if she does something stupid and reopens them?
I’m just wondering if I should try a different approach when he says, “All right. But don’t take long, and if you do anything to hurt yourself, you better not complain when you get back.”
He walks away before I can even say thanks. Rude.
The black butterfly is still here. It circles my head as I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and gingerly place them on the ground. A slight soreness pulsates from my foot that was stabbed, but Nytes are incredibly fast to heal. It’s barely more than a scar already.
The soreness fades the more
I walk. Out of the infirmary, down the halls, away to the meeting rooms.
For the past several days, I’ve had nothing to do but sit in my bed and allow myself to listen to any and all thoughts that were within range. Most were mundane, irrelevant, and largely unhelpful in general. Soldiers heading to duty or the mess hall, officers planning missions unrelated to the rebels, like scouting Sector Seven with its recent suspicious behavior to make sure they aren’t about to try to launch an attack on us. A lot of people are worried other sectors might try to make a move now that we have the rebels to deal with. A distracted sector is a vulnerable sector.
But yesterday, I finally hit upon something useful. A messenger had been passing by on her way to inform Austin that two High Councilors were coming to visit. They met with the general in his office this morning, a conversation that would have been impossible to eavesdrop on without getting caught. But very shortly, they’ll be meeting with a lower-ranked officer to receive a briefing on the rebel situation. That meeting I should be able to listen in on—so long as I’m careful.
It’s to take place in a meeting room far removed from the usual ones. The only furniture is a table and some chairs and a monitor, which means I won’t be able to hide there and listen in directly. So I make for the room next to it. It’s similarly furnished, but with the noticeable difference of a many-drawered desk pushed against one of the walls.
I lift the desk and relocate it to the wall this room shares with the one the Councilors will be meeting in. It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do.
It’d be a lot easier if I could read the minds of the Councilors. But as befits members of the organization that rules the entire sector, they have a certain amount of protection against Nytes. Their elaborate black robes are woven through with threads of the rare, expensive starlight metal that deflects any and all Nytes’ gifts. To protect themselves, to protect the top secret information they possess. I won’t be able to hear their thoughts. But the officer they’re meeting with won’t be so protected. And no one can hide the words they speak.
A Soldier and a Liar Page 8