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

by Bryce O'Connor

  By definition… wasn’t that exactly what it meant to be “better”?

  Feeling a little more sure of himself, Rei looked up from where he realized he’d been staring at the floor again.

  “How’d your fight go?” he asked of Viv.

  “Rei—” Aria started, sounding exasperated, but he held her up with a raised hand.

  “No. Don’t worry. I get it. I think… I just need some time to process, that’s all.” He looked at Viv again. “So? How’d your fight go? Had to get ready before it wrapped, and someone—” he tilted his head in comical indication of Aria “—refused to let me know how you made out before my own match.”

  Almost at once Viv’s face fell, her shoulders dropping a little as she repressed what might have been a frown.

  At once Rei regretted his humor. “Ah, dammit. I’m sorry, Viv. I didn’t mean to—”

  “I won.”

  He paused. She’d spoken so quietly, gaze down on her feet in what he thought had been disappointment as she’d spoke.

  “You—Wait—What?”

  And then Viv looked up at him again, her expression replaced with a grin of glee that had Rei knowing he’d been fooled.

  “I WON!”

  Rei stared at her, mouth agape.

  Then, as he felt the smile start to build on his face again, he looked at Aria. “I really need to start listening to you more often…”

  Aria cocked her head at him. “You’re genuinely just figuring that out now, aren’t you?”

  CHAPTER 44

  “Hundreds of times in the last 500 years has humanity pushed beyond its limits. Endlessly we seem to be able to do more, to be able to press ourselves further. First to Earth’s moon in the 20th century, Mars in the 21st, then into the stars not 50 years after that.

  And yet, as far and wide as our ships may take us, the one thing we seem unable to leave behind is the tedium and rigor of governmental bureaucracy…”

  - ISCM Acquisitions Chair Kennedy Shwant

  Central Command, Earth

  c. 2450

  “Yes, ma’am… Yes, ma’am… I assure you we’re well aware of the circumstances, ma’am… Yes. Yes, of course…”

  From her place near the back of the room by the closed door, Maddie Kent watched with feigned impassion as Rama Guest stood at ease on the far side of his desk, facing the window and the night sky beyond it. In the reflection of the glass she could just make out the flickering image in the man’s frame, the indication of the video call she’d interrupted his last meeting of the day with.

  Standing at attention in front of the desk, the subject of said meeting waited with rigid impatience, clearly understanding he was not at leave to depart the room just yet, and disliking that fact very much.

  It was another 2 or 3 minutes before the colonel wrapped his call, and one more after it had ended that he stood looking unblinkingly up at the heavens overhead, watching the traffic of the sky-lanes play out against an overcast blackness lit to grey by the city light all around them. Maddie had to bite her lip to keep from smiling, having seen the man employ this very tactic a hundred times over with subordinates in need of rebuking.

  Silence, after all, could be just as weighty of a tool as a raised voice.

  At last Rama turned to face the room again, his eyes falling on the subject of his ire that evening. Major Dyrk Reese didn’t so much as wince as his superior took him in with tempered irritation, the man’s own gaze set somewhere above the colonel’s donned military cap.

  “That—serendipitously enough—was General Abel,” Rama said after a second, his tone even. “In the entirety of the first quarter of the term, I received four calls from Central, major. All regarding the same topic, and all ending with my assurances that we are addressing the situation as well as any other school in the ISC would be able to.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his words were cooler. “In the two weeks since the start of the Intra-Schools, I have taken twice that many.”

  His emphasis seemed not to phase Reese, who kept looking over the man’s head without flinching.

  “You need to understand that I do not enjoy these calls, major,” the colonel continued after a few seconds of silence. “I do not enjoy being questioned a dozen different ways by just as many generals and lieutenant generals. It makes me feel like a cadet again, and—as much as I enjoyed my younger years—I have worked very hard not to ever feel like a cadet again. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, sir,” the answer came, prompt and expected.

  The bastard had always been a good actor.

  “I’m not so sure you do.” Rama started to walk around the desk, his eyes never leaving Reese’s, who continued to stare straight ahead. “Your job, major, is to the students of this school, is it not?”

  A silence, this time. The colonel raised an eyebrow, coming to stand before Reese with his hands behind his back. The major had removed his cap and tucked it under one arm—as was expected in the formal presence of a superior in their offices—and Rama Guest had always been a tall man. The result was like seeing a mountain stare down a hill.

  “I asked you a question, major,” Rama growled.

  This time, the answer came.

  “All due respect, sir, but I believe that’s an incorrect summary of my assignment.”

  Both eyebrows rose up, now.

  “Oh? Enlighten me.”

  Reese took that as leave to speak freely. “My first and foremost responsibility is to this Institute and its reputation, sir. While I can usually best serve that purpose by attending to the students, there will be exceptions when—”

  “No.” The colonel’s interruption was harsh, as close as he’d come yet to truly displaying his displeasure, in Maddie’s opinion. “Don’t try to feed me excuses, Reese. You are the principal arbiter of our sanctioned tournaments, which is particularly important when those tournaments involve our cadets. You are a guiding voice for young Users, and you have been allowed a great deal of power on the grounds of this school to aid you in that endeavor. Outside of professional SCTs, your entire function within these walls is to nurture and direct. Your responsibility to this Institute is carried out through our students, and only through our students.”

  “Exactly, sir. So if I deem one of my instructees to be of negative bearing to Galens’ legacy and reputation, then I—”

  “You bring it to me.”

  The rumbled command felt like it vibrated, and Maddie might have imagined a flash of grey light piercing Rama’s dark eyes.

  “You bring it to me, major,” the colonel said again. “You do not set about your own agenda, disrupting training and events and discipline. Especially for the likes of a single student.”

  For the first time, Maddie thought Reese looked a little nervous.

  “Sir, Cadet Ward isn’t just any—”

  “No, he’s not,” Rama interrupted again, taking half a step closer so that only a foot of space separated the two men. “As it turns out, Ward is very, very special, major. Even more so than Valera Dent expected when she fought for his admission, I suspect. If you’re so interested in the ‘legacy and reputation’ of this school, then I’m of the opinion you should be doing everything in your power to support Reidon Ward, rather than play your games from the shadows in some childish effort to tear him down.”

  “I’m not sure what you—”

  “No,” Rama hissed again, cutting of Reese’s attempt at denial. “You do not get to lie to me, major. Of every instructor Cadet Ward currently has, you are the only one left whose feedback reports are consistently critical of the boy. Even the other sub-instructors have started to make note of his work ethic and obvious improvement. Compliments given despite their suspicions regarding his CAD’s progress.”

  From what little of the man’s face she could make out, Maddie was sure the major scowled then. “I’m entitled to a dissenting opinion, sir. I’ve stated from the beginning that Cadet Ward has no
place at this—”

  “You also—” Rama spoke over the man as easily as a train might rumble over a pebble left on its tracks “—saw fit to insert yourself as the Team Battle and Wargames instructor for the first year class.”

  “Valera Dent is a new staffer, and there were requests for her to participate in one-on-one training courses with our most accomplished students in the second and third—”

  “Valera Dent is an S-Ranked Knight-Class User, Major Reese.” Maddie found that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut anymore, out of line as it was. “If you’re of the opinion that you have more to teach the cadets than her, you should have applied for the position of chief combat instructor yourself.”

  Reese took advantage of this interruption to turn and glare at her.

  “Sir, this is hardly correct.” He spoke to the colonel even as his eyes never left Maddie’s. “I resent Ms. Kent’s presence in this meeting, and certainly won’t allow a civilian to speak to me in this—”

  “You’ll allow what I say you’ll allow, major,” Rama thundered, drawing Reese’s alarmed attention back to him. “And Maddison only makes my point for me.”

  Still, just the same, the colonel glanced her way once, briefly, the message coming clear in the slight narrowing of his eyes.

  Stay out of this, he warned.

  Maddie dipped her head in acknowledgment, though she could hardly bring herself to regret the words.

  “I apologize if I overstepped the rights of my office, sir,” Reese said through gritted teeth. “If you so like, I will resign the instruction of the first years’ squad-formats back to Captain Dent.”

  Rama snorted. “I do not. That would only cause confusion and suspicion among the students, not to mention have them question your ability as instructor. Believe it or not, Reese, I’m not looking to embarrass you tonight.”

  The assurance seemed to do nothing to placate the major. “I’m sorry to say you’ve failed in that endeavor, sir. I resent these accusations. I state it for the record.”

  “‘Accusations’?” The colonel echoed the word with an actual laugh, this time. “Consider for a moment nothing I’ve said yet has been an accusation, Reese. If you want an accusation—” his face grew stony “—explain to me how it is that Reidon Ward was pit first against one of the top sixteen Users in the class, and then a student he has had a suspected incident with? A student with superior specs to him in every class aside from one, despite his CAD-Rank, and a student in the same class-block and Type-group as him, giving them a significant edge on knowing his fighting style.”

  Reese, for once, paused for a moment before answering, licking his lips nervously.

  “By now, sir, there are more first years Cadet Ward has had ‘an incident with’ than hasn’t. In fact, that’s part of my point. I hardly think it’s appropriate to heap praise and expectation on a student—”

  “I don’t care what you think right now, major. I asked you a question. Answer it.”

  This time Reese was quicker on the draw, having earned himself the few seconds of time he’d likely been playing for to deliberate.

  “The Intra-School pairings are constructed by lot, sir. I have no say in them, else I certainly wouldn’t have paired Logan Ward against your n—” the major caught himself as Rama’s eyes widened in angry warning “—against Aria Laurent.” He blinked, looking like he’d been struck by a sudden thought. “That Ward was paired with two individuals he might have had some sort of disadvantage against is hardly unusual, but—I don’t know if you saw—he won his match, today, sir.”

  “I did see.” The colonel nodded slowly. “And in record time.”

  Reese did his best to keep a neutral face, but Maddie couldn’t help but wonder if she imagined the hint of irritation that pulled at the corners of the man’s lips.

  “Here’s the problem I have with your explanation, major.” As he spoke, Rama stepped back and half-turned to reach down and tapped the surface of his desk with two fingers. “If you don’t mind, could you explain what this is to me?”

  At his words a tall image flickered into place above the lacquered wood, the projection device well-hidden within the carved contours of the detailing. Along the left side of the hologram, 128 names were lined up in no particular order, linked in pairs by lines that continued to come together until only eight remained. Beneath this, another sixty-four names repeated themselves, pairing in a similar way, but with dangling lines left for new names to be added in each column.

  Though Maddie had known it was coming, it was still impressive to take in the extent of the double-elimination bracket.

  “This is the matchmaking of the first year Intra-Schools,” Reese said, his voice so steady it was almost forced as he pointed to the right of the initial line of names. “Given that the second column is filled, it looks like the results of last week’s fights.”

  “Precisely,” Rama said with a curt nod, gesturing towards the first line of the bottom bracket—the losers pairings—which had also been filled in. “At this point, the matchings we saw over the last two days had already been decided. Now—” he swiped two fingers along the surface of the desk, and a wall of text replaced the pairings, scrolling down the screen “—do you know what this is?”

  Reese’s voice was definitely too calm, now, as he answered.

  “It appears to be the metadata of the brackets, sir.”

  “It is. Now I admit to having very little expertise in software engineering, but a very pleasant lieutenant from Major Hadish’s office—one in possession of a much greater eye for these things than anyone currently standing in this room—tells me that there is something odd about this coding. According to you, these matches were to be decided by lot. Randomized. Is that correct?”

  “It is, sir.”

  “Excellent. Then can you explain why—” Rama waved at the projection, and it stopped to light up a single line of the text in a blinking highlight “—there is a record of access to this data, logged for the evening of last Tuesday?” He turned his head slowly to look Reese full in the face again. “A record of access from your NOED, major.”

  To his credit, Reese was quick on his answer. “That would have been the input of the match losers into the secondary bracket, sir.”

  “Of course. Of course.” The colonel nodded along for a moment before continuing. “That was what the lieutenant and I though as well.”

  Maddie thought she could see the effort Reese put into not sagging in relief in that moment.

  Unfortunately for him, Rama wasn’t done speaking yet.

  “That is until we decided to take a look at the brackets you put together for the Intra-School in previous years.”

  Another wave of the colonel’s big hand, and the projection appeared to replicate a score of times in a blur, the copies shimmering out and up until more than 20 years’ worth of metadata was projected in several even rows all the way to the ceiling.

  “Could you explain to me, major, why it was identified that this year is the only bracket that required manual input of the loser’s names?”

  Reese froze up, then. If he’d thought they’d ever look into things, he obviously hadn’t expected them to look this deep.

  “In fact—” the colonel’s voice was dangerous again, calm but edged with warning “—every other assignment system for any SCT you’ve arbitrated for this Institute ran off automatic allocation. Every one. No manual input. No secondary access.”

  “I was trying something new this year, sir,” Reese said, swallowing as he did. “In the past we’ve had top students being disqualified early in the tournament due to bad luck. I wanted to ensure—”

  “You wanted to ensure Reidon Ward was knocked out of the running in the first two rounds,” Rama snarled, suddenly inches from the major’s face with a quickness only an S-Ranked User would have been able to achieve. “You wanted to embarrass him, to drive him a little closer to the edge. To what end? To grow the wedge betwe
en him and his class? To push for more ‘incidents’? Why?”

  Reese, at last, was starting to look pale as he obviously fought not to lean away from his superior’s proximity.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. It’s no secret I have my reservations about Ward, but—”

  “Oh, you do,” Rama cut him off. “You do know what I’m talking about. You don’t just have ‘reservations’, major. You’re trying to wage a war. A war. Against an eighteen-year-old who’s just been handed a chance at real success for the first time in his life. No.” He raised a hand to stop the man when Reese tried to speak. “Do not interrupt. I’ve also fielded a complaint of mistreatment from another instructor, spelling out in no uncertain terms that you deliberately ignored the initiating actions of a different student to reprimand Cadet Ward following his first fight, and Ward alone. This after more than one rumor that your interactions with him thus far in class have bordered on neglect and abuse. Enough. I’ve had enough.”

  He didn’t ask if the man understood, instead stepping back to take Reese in with a frown.

  “You’re a smart man, major. You’ve no doubt identified that nothing I’ve brought to your attention tonight is grounds for dismissal—or even formal punishment beyond this reprimand, in fact. You’re also probably aware that I have no actual evidence of deliberate tampering with the first years bracket. Lucky you.” The colonel smiled then, a cold, icy thing. “However, the next time I receive a call from Central, I will be forwarding it to you. Perhaps you’ll have an answer for the next general who comes demanding to know why what appears to be a developing pattern of mishandling of Reidon Ward—a User with S-Ranked Growth potential—has been allowed to fester in my school. What do you think?”

  Reese’s mouth dropped half-an-inch before he caught himself.

  “Central has taken that much of an interest in—?”