Iron Prince: A Progression Sci-Fi Epic (Warformed: Stormweaver Book 1)

by Bryce O'Connor

  War tended to trump family, after all.

  “Aria, there you are. Come along. The evaluators have arrived.”

  Her mother’s voice was easy, but Aria had spent enough time around the woman to detect the edge of impatience lingering there.

  “I already told you, I’m not interested in an individual test,” she answered stiffly, watching the passing lights of a different satellite trail by in higher orbit. “The public examination is fine by me.”

  “And I already told you that wasn’t happening,” her mother said from the door, crossing her arms and bringing herself to her full height, as was her fashion whenever presented with a disagreement. Any opportunity to talk down, she would take, even if it was at nothing more than her own daughter’s back. “We don’t have time for this. Do you know the strings your father and uncle had to pull to get an evaluator to visit us privately? Stop being childish and come with me.”

  Aria didn’t move, but she met the woman’s eyes—yellow-gold to her own emerald-green—in the reflection of the glass. “What’s the issue with letting me take the public exam?”

  She knew the answer, of course. Both answers, in fact. The truth, and the one she was about to get.

  Her mother didn’t so much as blink as she lied to her face.

  “I’ve told you. Kalus and Amina were both nearly C-Rank Users by the time their first terms started. Every trainer you have thinks you have the ability to match them, if not surpass them. A public exam would have your User Rank entered immediately into the ISCM database. That means everyone would have access to it. If you do end up with the same potential as your siblings, this family does not need that kind of attention before we can get ahead of it.”

  Siblings who haven’t been home in years just to get away from you and Father, Aria thought bitterly. Indeed, Kalus was busy making a name for himself in the pro circuits, while Amina had voluntarily deployed to the front line to put as much room between herself and the family’s influence in the Astra System as possible.

  “You just don’t want the embarrassment of my not meeting the public expectations if I don’t match them,” Aria muttered.

  She’d intended for the words to be said under her breath, but the darkening of her mother’s expression told her she’d been overheard.

  “Enough. This is not a negotiation, Aria. You will see the evaluators, and you will do so now, rather than wasting more of anyone’s time.”

  The impatience had finally seeped into the woman’s voice in truth, and it was this fact that had Aria at last whirling away from the window, fists clenched at her side. She faced her mother, her own anger rising.

  Salista Ethalees Laurent stared her daughter down with golden eyes, framed in auburn hair she, Aria, and Amina had all been engineered to possess. Whereas Aria liked to think her expressions had some range, however, her mother’s face was carefully composed in an almost-statuesque placidity, absent even of the frustration that had inadvertently infected her last words.

  This was expected, of course. Aria had never known Salista Laurent to be capable of anything but calm, cold calculation.

  “I attended the preparatory school you wanted me to, despite my wanting to go somewhere else.” Her voice shook as she spoke, and her nails bit into her palms by her sides. “I stayed away from people I could have been friends with, just because you told me the ‘Laurent’ name shouldn’t be associated with their families. I even agreed not to apply to anywhere but Galens, despite the fact I told you I wanted to attend a military academy in the inner systems. Could you—just once—let me do what I want to do?!”

  Her last question came out as half a yell, and yet her mother didn’t so much as blink.

  When she spoke, however, the woman’s words surprised Aria enough that her mouth dropped open.

  “If you agree to the private exam, I’ll allow you to attend the Galens’ summer training session.”

  The offer was like a bolt of electricity up Aria’s spine, and she was fully aware that more than a few seconds passed before she could speak again.

  “The… A summer training session?” she asked, not completely understanding.

  Her mother nodded curtly, the hint of a frown on the corners of her lips speaking to the fact that she wasn’t pleased with having her hand forced in this way. “You’ll have to qualify, but neither your uncle nor your trainers expect that to be any issue. The sixteen top-ranked incoming cadets are offered the opportunity to attend a 2-month early practical training course, starting in June.”

  Abruptly, Aria understood.

  “The favorites,” she clarified with a frown.

  “If by that you mean the favorites to qualify for the Sectional SCTs, then yes. ‘The favorites’.”

  Aria contemplated this news. She wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of starting the school year already marked by her potential, but the reality was that a summer session like the one her mother was describing meant she would be free and clear of the estate a full 2 months earlier than expected. There was another week of school left at Carleson’s Military College—she’d come home for the Sunday leave at her mother’s behest—but after that Aria had been under the impression she would be back on the satellite, studying under the same tutors and combat instructors she’d been working with since she’d turned old enough hold a training weapon.

  “Two months…” she whispered, not even realizing she was saying it out loud, nor noticing her mother’s frown deepening.

  She would have to qualify. That wasn’t a given, per se, but if Aria was honest with herself she was under the same impression as her trainers. She’d known her siblings’ numbers growing up, and knew just as well that she had surpassed both of them in most scoreable areas. She knew the specs of their CADs on assignment as well, and could only believe that even getting close to either Kalus’ or Amina’s starting potential would be enough to qualify her for the top sixteen incoming. The Galens Institute was arguably the best military academy on Astra-3, maybe even the system, so unless every top-ranker from every neighbor planet applied and made it in…

  “I’ll do it.”

  Aria said the words before she knew she’d even made the decision. She realized she’d been staring at her mother with what could only have been a dumbfounded expression, and closed her mouth with a snap before standing straight.

  “I’ll do it,” she said again. “If it means even a shot getting out of this place 2 months early, I’ll do it.”

  Her mother stared at her for a second, something inscrutable playing in her stony, beautiful features. Was that… sadness, maybe? No. More likely it was just disappointment.

  At last the woman shrugged, turning and leaving through the door as she waved for her daughter to follow over her shoulder.

  “Then come along. Like I said, they’re waiting.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Astra System – Astra-3 – Sector 6

  “The advantages of being assigned a CAD are not innumerable, but they are great. Setting aside the gain of measurable specs for the Device and its User, there are also the benefits such technology have on the body. In order for its assignee to apply its full potential with any measure of safety, maintaining the health of the User is a top priority for every CAD. Muscular cross-density optimization. Oxygen de-dependency. Osteoformic integrity. Genetic correction. These are just a few of the wonders advancement in this technology offer those fortunate—and brave enough—to bear one.”

  - CAD and User Relationships

  Lieutenant Colonel Hana von Geil, Ph.D.

  Distributed by Central Command, Earth

  “Ugh…”

  Rei allowed himself to reach up and massage his temples with both hands, closing his eyes for a moment against the headache building behind them. His right arm protested the slightest bit at the flexion, but he ignored it, focusing instead on trying to wake himself up.

  “If you’re making that noise because your elbow is hurting, I swear y
ou’re the first person I’m going to stab once I get my Device. Right before I say I told you so.”

  Rei opened his eyes and looked up. He’d been waiting—along with about a hundred other people—in the lobby outside the east entrance of Grandcrest’s combat gymnasium. The space was wide and large enough to fit its current occupancy five times over, but still Rei disliked the sterile white of the curved plasteel plating and arching windows showing a bright spring day outside. It all felt about as welcoming as a the school’s 6-by-6 disciplinary cubicles he’d… uh… “visited” more than once in his time at the Academy.

  Fortunately for him, the view had improved somewhat since he’d last glanced up from his feet.

  “Took you long enough,” he told Viv, who had appeared as though out of thin air to drop herself down in one of the stark-blue couches opposite the wall he was leaning against. “I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it.”

  “I’ve still got 15 minutes, Mom, so stop worrying.” His best friend gave a group of boys from some other school a charming smile and a wave as they stared at her, her brown hair bouncing against the front of the grey-green dress she’d chosen for the day. When they blushed and spun away in embarrassment, she turned back to Rei again, her expression sliding into serious. “Don’t change the subject. I asked if your elbow was hurting. You were just groaning.”

  Ignoring the temptation to comment on her funny way of “asking”, Rei shook his head, starting to roll up the long sleeve of his black shirt. “No, don’t worry.” He showed her the inside of his right arm, where a new, circular scar about half-an-inch across marked his skin, indistinguishable from the others all along the limb aside from it being a few shades redder. Viv, seeing it, got up from her couch, leaving behind the fashionable satchel he hadn’t seen her put down as she moved to examine the mark.

  “Grandcrest’s docs have been dealing with me for four years, now,” Rei continued, letting the girl take his arm to poke and prod at the joint in question. “I told you it barely took an hour, and I even kept my sling on the whole week, just like you badgered me to. Made cleaning the gym a pain in the ass, I might add. Hence my groaning. I was up till 0100 last night wiping down the second year locker rooms, given I only had one hand to work with.”

  Viv continued to scrutinize the laser scar for a little longer before she appeared satisfied.

  “Sleep deprivation can be fixed,” she said, turning and moving back to the couch to pick up her bag, rummaging through it as she kept on. “An elbow you can’t bend for an exam that includes physical testing can’t.” She found what she was looking for, pulling out two capped cups. Offering him one of them, she grinned. “Besides. I’ve got your back.”

  Rei let out a moan of thanks as he took the coffee in both hands, tapping the lid so that the auto-seal retracted, leaving an opening just wide enough to drink from. The smell made his skin tingle, and he gave Viv the best doe-eyed look he could manage. “I take back what I said. You can be late to any potentially life-changing test you want if it means you bring me caffeine.”

  She chuckled, but didn’t answer as she unsealed her own cup and joined him on the wall to drink.

  As lighthearted as their banter had been to that point, the silence that hung between the two of them then as they shared each other’s company spelled out nerves neither wanted to speak of out loud. It seemed a common stress, too, because despite sharing the lobby with scores of other graduating students, the hum of conversation was more akin to that of a library than the minutes preceding what would possibly be the most important moments of any of their lives. Thinking about it, Rei found himself looking around, studying the hopefuls as they clumped together in quiet discussion, or sat alone with their NOEDs bright in one or both eyes, getting some last-minute studying in.

  One in twelve. That was the average rate of CAD-assignment compared to test participants. Including the other lobbies, there would be some 500 applicants at this testing site alone, with a dozen other venues scattered throughout Sector 6 of Astra-3, and in twelve sectors across the planet as a whole. He, Viv, and the scattering of other classmates Rei could see among the crowd were lucky their graduation had landed on a year Grandcrest was one of the exam hosts, but that fortune seemed small when he considered that less than 10% of the students murmuring around him would achieve their dream today. They would be allowed to try again the following year, he knew, but passing the CAD-Assignment Exam after failing it was astronomically rare.

  Doesn’t matter, he told himself, taking a drag at his coffee and staring at nothing. Doesn’t matter how many tries it takes.

  He hadn’t told Viv his thoughts on his likelihood of passing that day. She would have smacked him outside the head for “being a pessimist”, and her shared enthusiasm was a big part of the reason he’d worked so hard in the last half-year in particular to prepare. He’d been blessed with more fortune than he could credit himself ever deserving for having her by his side, and he sure as hell hadn’t been about to dampen her spirits in the days leading up to the test.

  Still… That didn’t mean he held any high hopes.

  The written examination was one thing. Rei had known more about CAD tech, history, and combat theory entering Grandcrest Prep than most of the students around him now had probably absorbed after months of studying. He couldn’t put a finger on when he’d become obsessed with the Simulated Combat Tournaments, by Matron Kast and the other staff of the Estoran Center had sworn up and down he’d been swinging at invisible opponents from the moment the major surgeries had started when he was 3, allowing him free use of his arms and legs for the first time in his life. To call the SCTs a passion would have been an understatement, and the day Rei had learned anyone could apply to join the Intersystem Collective Military as a CAD-User …

  Yeah… The written exam wasn’t a concern.

  The problem was the second portion of the test: the physical analysis. Rei didn’t think he would be expected to actually fight as part of the process—all his research into the feeds and forums had mentioned nothing of the like—but that was, if anything, a downside. At 5’ 5” and barely scraping 130 pounds, Rei wasn’t much more than a bony runt for his 18 years. Even Viv towered over him—not to mention outweighed him—but that had never been enough of a reason to stop Rei. His two wins at the combat tournament the weekend before had been against boys half-again his weight, and even if he was at the bottom of the barrel, the fact that he’d made it onto the team at all was something given his stature.

  But that was the problem. If he was allowed to fight, maybe the examiners would be more willing to give him a shot at assignment…

  Rei looked around again, taking in the crowd of students.

  One in twelve…

  Of course, even if by some miracle he didn’t fail the physical assessment, there would still be the mysterious final evaluation to overcome…

  “Attention, if you please.”

  The voice, steady and easy as it was, had such an intense effect on the room you could immediately hear the rapid breathing of some poor soul trying desperately to calm themselves in the back of the lobby. All heads turned inward, towards the stairs that led up to a pair of closed sliding doors blocking the floor of the combat gym from view. On the steps, a figure had appeared, flickering a moment until the simulation stabilized into the form of a tall, thin man with sharp eyes and a cropped, greying beard. He wore the black-and-gold regulars of the ISCM uniform, complete with the flat-topped cap, and stood at ease with his hands behind his back, looking over the heads of everyone in the lobby.

  “My name is Major Albert Connelly,” the projection continued, “and I have the honor of being your lead evaluator today as you pursue your Combat Assistance Device Assignment Exam. I want to first thank every one of you for applying. I am aware that a military lifestyle has its own appeal—particularly for those of you seeking merit in the circuits—but it also takes an element of bravery and self-understanding to know the path of
becoming a CAD-User is the one you seek to walk.” Major Connelly held out a hand then, lifting it almost to the level of his eyes. Rei just caught the glimpse of a purple-and-grey band of metal around his wrist when electric pixilation disrupted the officer’s simulation, causing a few of the hopefuls in the crowd to yelp. An instant later, however, the hologram stabilized, and Connelly was left standing as he had been, his raised hand now wrapped about the black steel handle of a massive sword whose broad, iron-grey blade was edged with glowing purple vysetrium. His eyes, too, had changed, taking on the faint brightness of a similar shade of violet, irises alight as he looked around again.

  “Saber-Type,” Rei muttered, low enough that only Viv could hear beside him. “Probably a high B-Rank at least, judging by the complexity of that call.”

  In the corner of his vision he saw Viv nod, but she said nothing as the major continued speaking.

  “This is a partial-call of my Device, Calysta. As all of you are hopefully aware, the form she has taken classifies me as a Saber-Type User.” His eyes swept the room a little too-high—he was likely addressing all the lobbies at once—as if to discourage anyone who hadn’t made this assessment from proceeding. “This is what you are all seeking, though even those of you assigned a Saber-Type CAD will have many years of training before you can achieve this call-level.” Abruptly the massive sword vanished in a whirling mess of grey-black steel and purple light, vanishing in hardly a second.

  “Of course,” the major kept on, clasping hands behind his back again, “I am sure all here are equally aware that very few of you will be assigned a Device today. No matter how deserving you feel you may be, no matter how true you think your desire is, the fact remains that the parameters of difficulty you are about to be put through are not barriers everyone can overcome. Failing the written exam implies a lack of understanding in the core concepts of essential military, CAD, and combat theory, putting you at risk of becoming a danger to yourself and others on the field or the front lines alike. Failing the physical evaluation implies an absence of a person’s true likelihood of being able to handle the physiological toll of being assigned a Device, which can be great. Failing the final portion of this exam… well…” The major frowned, almost in commiseration. “It takes a certain kind of mind to properly wield a developing CAD, much less excel in its use.”