by K A Riley
“I have to say, we’ve had our doubts. The other Cohorts…nobody has performed at this level before. You’ve conquered the Escape Room tests and now the VR test. At this rate, several of you might qualify for Special Ops after all.”
Cardyn gives me playful push to the shoulder. I laugh and brush the hair back that’s fallen across my face.
“How’s that going to work?” Rain asks. “I mean how will you decide who gets to go into which deployment?”
“Our assessments are top of the line algorithms designed to break down and compile every move you’ve made, every decision. The system is flawless when it comes to helping us to determine how you can best help us, which, of course, means how you can best serve your nation. Trust me, this is a much better system than the old way.”
“The old way?” I ask.
“Sure. War used to be a matter of gathering every able-bodied soul you could, rushing them through a pointless boot camp, and sending them out to, well…die.” Hiller pauses behind me and makes some more notes before moving on to Amaranthine, who is standing next to me, her head down, her face covered as always by a wavy shield of her tangled hair. “Not anymore. We don’t recruit at random and hope to develop the best and brightest. No. We take the best and brightest and help them to unleash something even better and brighter within themselves.”
Granden and Trench are outside the circle of chairs, their arms folded across my chair and Cardyn’s. They watch and listen as Hiller walks around us. Clipping her holo-board to a small hook on her belt, she puts her hands on Amaranthine’s shoulders. “Amaranthine, for example, has demonstrated some very unusual abilities. We’re not sure how she was able to do what she did in the VR-sim. But she has made sure that our suspicions about the special nature of this Cohort have been firmly confirmed.” Manthy shrugs Hiller’s hands from her shoulders and steps over to stand closer to me. Hiller doesn’t seem to notice the abrupt dismissal and continues talking as she walks around us. “Karmine and Kella are total dead-shots, the best marksmen we’ve ever seen and with an uncanny ability to adapt themselves to any weapon they’re given. You don’t know this, of course, but the VR system calculated every shot you took. Every hit. Every miss. These two,” she says with one hand on Karmine’s shoulder and the other on Kella’s, “just set an accuracy record that even your Trainers wouldn’t be able to match.” From their positions behind Brohn and Rain, I can see Granden smile and Trench frown. Hiller doesn’t notice. She passes behind Brohn and runs her fingertips along the width of his shoulders. “A natural leader. Decisive. Clear-headed.”
Brohn gives her a sarcastic “Thanks” and looks over his shoulder at her hand like it’s an annoying bug.
“Cardyn,” she says, moving on, “has demonstrated great curiosity, loyalty, and a fierce dedication to the welfare of his friends. He is the one pressing pause to keep you alive when everyone else is scrambling to hit fast-forward. You owe him your lives. Your virtual ones, anyway. Rain here has the most logical, incisive mind we’ve ever seen.” Rain scowls a little, but she blushes a little, too.
Finally, Hiller has circled all the way back around to me. I’ve got no idea what I offer that she could possibly brag about. Other than my connection to Render, which she doesn’t know about, there’s nothing special about me. I’m the girl in the shadows. The middle child. The shy one who sits back and watches as others win the prizes. But Hiller lingers behind me the longest.
“No construction is complete without secure connections, someone to coordinate the moving parts, to hold the pieces together. That’s Kress. She is your living, beating heart. Your skills are impressive on their own. With Kress as the hub of your Cohort, your skills may well be downright unbeatable.”
Maybe it’s my imagination, but it sounds like she’s stressing the word “connections,” and I wonder if she knows something about my single special ability after all. I hope not. The more I think about it, the more I think Cardyn was right back in the Valta: the less everyone else knows about Render, the better. Hiller was nice enough to let Render hang around without getting shot at during the last month and a half or so of training. I’d rather not push my luck with the revelation that I can, and have, used my connection with Render to do some spying of my own over the past few weeks.
“We’re okay with the deployment,” Brohn says. “Not that we have a choice. I get that. But we’d like to stay together if possible. We’ve been family for a long time. It’d be a shame to split us up now, right?”
Hiller offers him and Rain a fake-looking smile. “We’ll do what we can. But we’re bound by the numbers. As you know, your strengths are being carefully identified by sophisticated assessment programs that we’ve spent a long time perfecting. The system will tell us which deployment will be best for you in our fight against the Eastern Order. I know it’s hard to get your heads around, for any of us to get our heads around, but it’s the war that matters. Yes, Brohn, the bonds of family matter. A lot. But without victory in the war, there won’t be any family left to bond with.”
Karmine nods his agreement as Hiller tells us it’s time to head back out to the Agora.
We follow her on shaky legs. The experience in the VR-sim may not have lasted long in terms of time in the real world, but in our minds, we felt every second of frustration, pain, and defeat until Amaranthine was finally able to rig the system to enable us to rescue the hostages and get out.
“Any word on Terk?” Kella asks as we make our way down the hallway toward the Cube’s main exit door. “Did you talk to anyone in Eta Cube while we were in the sim? How’s he doing?”
“Did he get that new arm?” Karmine asks. “I’m jealous. He’s going to be a Modified, isn’t he?” Karmine flexes his own arm and makes a mechanical whirring sound with his mouth.
“He’s fine,” Hiller assures us. “And yes, I spoke with Lindell and Martenssen, the med-techs responsible for Terk. They report absolutely no problems or complications. No infection or anything like that. Terk was a little shocked at first as you can well imagine. But we’re helping him get used to his new prosthetic. He’s in the middle of a recovery and rehabilitation protocol at the moment. He’ll be joining you in no time. He told me personally over the comm-link to tell you not to worry. He’ll see you soon, and he’s looking forward to all of you being together again. He sounds good, actually. Better than I probably would anyway.” Hiller shakes her head. “He’s impressive, even stronger than he looks.”
“Tell him we miss him, too,” I say.
“Yeah,” Cardyn adds. “And tell him not to let you guys cut off any more limbs.”
Hiller laughs like he’s joking, but I don’t think he is. A training accident is one thing. Rigging a box with a laser blade in it is another. I get teaching us harsh lessons before we go off to war. But that level of harsh does nothing except set us up to fail.
Hiller stops at the door and opens it for us. “Okay, troops. Time to head back to the Silo. You’ve earned a good night’s sleep. We’ll pick up again tomorrow. Your training is nearly over, which means the final assessment is right around the corner. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to seeing your final scores and getting your deployment orders. And we’re excited to see what you can do out there against the enemy. A lot of folks have a lot of faith in you. I know it’s a lot of pressure, but if anyone can handle it, get through it, and turn the tide of this horrible war in our favor, it’s you.”
As she says this, I’m thinking that she doesn’t look so much like a mother duck with her ducklings anymore. More like a mother duck who’s getting kind of tired of her offspring taking up so much room in the nest. I know she’s eager to send us on our way to fight the Order. After all, her job here is pretty close to done. But I can’t tell if she’s eager to see us off for our sake or for hers.
She stands just inside the doorway as we pass by. My fellow Recruits and I walk in slow, unsteady steps under the guard turret and across the Agora on our way to the Silo. I’m dragging my
heels, exhausted from mental exertion and still slightly foggy-headed from transitioning back out of the VR-sim. Up ahead, Trench is guiding the others onto the Capsule Pads. In a few seconds, we’ll be back underground, chatting about our experience in the sim and nervously awaiting the announcement of our final deployment.
“So what happened to the other Cohorts?” I ask Granden, who’s lagging behind with me. “I mean if they didn’t complete the mission, like Hiller says.”
Granden shakes his head. His voice is quiet. “This place is dangerous, Kress.”
He doesn’t have to tell me. I’ve lived most of my life in the rubble left over in the wake of the war. “I know all about the dangers out there,” I tell him.
“Not the ones out there,” he whispers with a slight nod toward the perimeter of the expansive Processor, followed by a quick glance up toward the slowly-circling Halo above our heads. “The ones in here.”
He doesn’t answer when I ask what he means, just walks up ahead of me to rejoin Trench and the others. I don’t know what he’s up to, and I’m still too groggy from the sim to think straight. As I hurry along to catch up, I’m just grateful to be real again. Almost as grateful as I am to be alive.
21
Down in the Silo, no one can sleep. All we can talk about is the upcoming deployment and about how Amaranthine saved us in the VR-sim. Karmine must have said “Marvie!” to her about a million times by now, and Kella keeps asking her how she did what she did.
Amaranthine’s having none of it, though. At first, she ignores us. Eventually, she buries herself under her blanket to block out all our questions and congratulations. When that doesn’t work, she gathers her blanket up in a bunch and plods over to the Shower Room, where I can see her plop down on the floor, her eyes clamped shut, her back to the wall.
“I guess she doesn’t want to be bothered,” Rain says.
“Who does?” I ask.
“She does have a way of letting her feelings be known, doesn’t she?” Brohn adds.
The six of us sit cross-legged in a circle at the end of our cots. For a while, we make guesses about how Amaranthine was able to infiltrate a closed digital system without tools, an access port, or digital link-ups.
Karmine guesses that it has something to do with the implants. At first, I think he’s referring to my forearm tattoos, but he shakes his head and gestures over his shoulder with his thumb toward his back.
Cardyn looks worried but seems to relax when Brohn says, “I doubt that.”
Kella and Rain agree with Karmine. To tell the truth, I keep forgetting about the so-called “Biscuits” Trench injected into us on our first day in the Processor. I reach my left hand around the front of my body and feel along my rib cage on my right side and as far as I can to my shoulder blade. I don’t feel anything, and I certainly don’t feel like some tracking device is somehow controlling me or giving me magical access to any circuitry or data that might be streaming through the walls.
“I think these really are what they say they are,” I suggest. “If not, wouldn’t we all feel something?”
We debate for a while, but eventually, we all get tired of guessing—and just get tired in general. Cardyn stretches out on his cot with one arm draped over his eyes. Karmine and Kella fall asleep facing each other on their adjacent cots.
I can’t sleep, so I stand up and walk into the Mess Hall, leaving Brohn and Rain behind to carry on a conversation they’re having about the latest updates to our scores that have appeared on the viz-screen on the far side of the room.
I’ve barely settled into my seat on the bench when I hear Brohn excuse himself. He strides in and joins me in the Mess Hall, and I can’t help remembering when he took a similar stroll to join me on our last night back in the Valta. So much has happened since then…yet I feel like he and I haven’t really managed to get a whole lot closer. It’s like there’s a wall between us that either I put up or he did. It’s threatened to crumble once or twice, but maybe it’s too strong for either of us to break through.
He sits down across from me and steeples his fingers on the table between us. “Listen,” he says, “about what happened in the sim…”
“I’m pretty sure Manthy isn’t going to want to talk about it any time soon,” I sigh. “I think it was weird for her. So all we have right now are guesses.”
“I don’t mean about Manthy.”
I look across the table into his eyes, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest. So, he really was there. He knew what was happening the whole time. He really did kiss me.
Even if it was only a virtual kiss.
I pull my eyes away. It’s not something I’m ready to talk about without blushing my face off.
“At the end of the sim…?” he says, leaning forward and prodding me to reply.
“Yes,” I say, trying to look him in the eyes again but failing. “I remember.”
“I think maybe we…I mean, I…may have gotten caught up in the moment.”
“There was a moment?” I’m teasing him, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do about it. I’ve never seen him quite this uncomfortable in quite this kind of way. It’s a nice feeling to know that he can get as insecure around me as I can be—and often have been—around him.
“The point is, I don’t regret it.” He throws me his signature crooked smile, as though he’s trying to hold it back, but his face just can’t quite help it. “You know, Hiller was right. There is something special about you.” I open my mouth to reply, but he stops me. “I don’t mean the Render stuff, Kress. I mean you. Everything I said to you that night at Final Feast? I meant every word. There’s so much more to you than you know, Kress.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.
“I’m saying I kissed you because I wanted to.” He pulls his eyes away to stare at the far wall. “But I know it was probably a bad idea.”
“Right,” I reply. “Of course.” I’m not sure what I mean by that. All I know is that I’m feeling hurt right now, not to mention embarrassed.
“I mean, look where we are, Kress,” he says, gesturing to the air around us. “This place is oppressive. We live in a prison. We have no privacy. A relationship down here is a terrible idea. Even if we both want it.” His voice warms up with the last sentence. “Besides, I’ve always gotten a stay away from me vibe from you—which is probably smart on your part.”
“It’s not always a question of smart,” I reply with a smirk. “Like you say, it’s not like there’s any privacy here. Besides, you…” I want to point out that he’s always off with Rain, but it seems too much like an accusation of wrong-doing, so I clam up. “It would be hard, and it would probably make the others feel weird.”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking.”
We sit in silence for a few seconds before I add, “It’s not always like a prison, you know. Everyone here is sort of incredible. In my own twisted way, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know all these personalities.”
“True,” says Brohn, leaning in again with a glint in his eye. “I mean, what Amaranthine did was off-the-charts amazing, wasn’t it? I’d even say impossible if I hadn’t seen it for myself. And yes, Karmine and Kella can shoot the baby toe off a flea from a hundred yards away. Rain has a mind like a computer. Cardyn has a strange calming effect on those around him. And Terk…” Brohn looks over at the far wall again and shakes his head, his jaw clenching. I can tell without asking that anger’s roiling up inside him, just like it does every time he thinks of what happened in that Escape Room. “I just hope Terk’s okay,” he says in a voice that sounds more like a growl. His hands ball into tight fists. “What happened to him was…”
“Shocking?”
“To say the least.” He unclenches his hands, inhales deeply and pulls his eyes back to mine. “It should never have happened.”
“The strongest one of us lost an arm,” I say quietly. “I got knocked out in a sparring drill. Our two best marksmen suffered broken bones i
n a training exercise. You’re right—none of it should have happened.”
Brohn sighs and plasters on another smile, though this one feels forced. “No one said recruitment would be easy.”
“True. But no one said it would be deadly, either.”
He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Well, let’s not get carried away. No one’s dead.”
Yet, I think.
But instead of saying it, I just nod.
“Anyway,” he says, “we all contribute something, and I’ll confess, back in the Valta, if someone had asked me…”
“Yes?”
Brohn swallows hard and looks away. “Even though I know you’re strong in so many ways, I’m not sure I could have said back then what you’d contribute, exactly.”
“Thanks a lot,” I reply with a pout. Well, this conversation is going south pretty fast.
I’m considering pushing myself to my feet and walking away when Brohn stands up and walks around to my side of the table. He slides onto the bench seat next to me and takes my hand in his.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Not like an insult. What I meant is that I was wrong not to get to know you better back then. I was wrong not to see it.”
“See what?”
“You,” he says. “Everything about you. What you mean to everyone around you. The role you play in our lives. The way you let us work things out while you guide us gently from behind, always keeping an eye on us. Always protecting us in your way.”
“I don’t do anyth—” I start to protest, but he stops me.
