Red Handed

by Gena Showalter

  A few seconds later, a buzzer announced the end of our session. Neither one of us stood right away. We just looked at each other.

  "I'm sorry I jumped you," she said grudgingly.

  I hadn't expected an apology, even though we'd reached a sort of truce, and I was momentarily rendered speechless. "Well, uh, I'm sorry you jumped me, too."

  Her lips edged into a smile; it was the first she'd ever given me. "You have an attitude problem, you know that?"

  I felt my own lips curling upward. "Maybe we were separated at birth."

  She laughed out loud this time, amusement lighting her entire face, softening her, making her a beautiful sight. She stood. "See you around, Phoenix."

  "Yeah. See you around, Allison."

  She strode from the room with the cocky swagger of an agent. Not a trainee, but an actual agent. I had to admire her for that. I pushed to my feet, too. With a sigh, I left the "naughty" room, as I'd come to call it.

  I ground to a halt the moment I stepped into the hall, though. Emma was leaning against the wall, her hands in her pockets. Her pale hair was in disarray around her shoulders, and there were shadows under her eyes. The trident tattooed on her cheek seemed larger than before. Maybe because her cheeks were a bit sunken.

  I'd always wondered why she'd gotten that tattoo and what it meant.

  "Hey," I said. Each day during anatomy class, I'd invited her to my room later that day to study. Each day, she'd ignored me.

  "Hey," she replied, staring down at her boots.

  Well, well, well. Today was a day of firsts, I guess. Allison and I had walked away on easy terms, and now Emma was speaking to me. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the party?"

  She met my gaze briefly. "I needed to talk to you."

  "About what?" I didn't ask with heat; I asked with genuine curiosity.

  She pulled her hands from her pockets and twisted them together. "My aim sucks. No matter what I do, I can't make it better."

  When she said no more, I prompted, "And?"

  "And yours doesn't suck."

  Realization dawned, and I nodded. "You want my help." A statement, not a question.

  She nodded, the action stiff.

  A moment passed as I considered my answer. Finally I said, "I'll make you a deal. You help me study alien anatomy, and I'll help you with your aim."

  She answered quickly, with no hesitation, as if I'd given her exactly what she'd hoped for. "Deal."

  "Want to start now? I've got time."

  She lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, but I could see the eagerness in her eyes.

  "Come on."

  We walked side-by-side to the arena. After an ID scan, the doors opened and we swept inside. Because of the party, I didn't expect anyone to be here. But Siren was firing at a target and when she spotted us, she stilled. She sheathed the pyre-gun at her side and faced us.

  She wasn't as pretty as the other women of A.I.R, but her red hair was amazing. It hung down her shoulders like a silky curtain. "Here to practice?" she asked in that oh so sweet voice of hers.

  We nodded. I hadn't seen her since my first day and I couldn't help but remember that she hadn't wanted me here. "Too much attitude," she'd said. A part of me wanted to show her real attitude, the kind that came with five fingers and an equal number of knuckles.

  "That makes me proud. That makes me proud." She strode from the room with a grin.

  I watched her, frowning, confused. O-kay. Not what I had expected. "You'll always suck," maybe. Or, "You shouldn't be here, you drugged-out loser."

  I shook my head, strangely happy. "Let's get started," I said to Emma. I collected a pyre-gun with no detonation crystal since we weren't allowed to hold a loaded gun without Kadar's presence, as well as a few sharp-edged stars from the glass case.

  The computer logged my ID before permitting me to handle a single weapon, keeping a list of everything I took. If any of those items were not returned or were used on someone, I would be blamed. If I tried to leave the room with them, alarms would erupt and, I was sure, any instructor nearby would tackle or shoot me.

  "Line up," I told Emma.

  She approached the open window that looked onto the jelly molds and holograms of the aliens. In a hologram, we could change the race of the alien with a few clicks of a keyboard--only during our free time, however. In class, Kadar picked for us. Emma changed the Delensean hologram to a...

  "What is that?" I asked her, studying the shiny, light blue creature with the webbed hands and feet.

  Her expression hardened. "It's a Lyross."

  I'd heard that name before. Where? I flipped through my mental files, and my eyes widened as realization struck. The Lyross, a race that lived underwater. The race of her rapist. "Stars or, uh, guns?"

  "Stars first. Guns second."

  I set the gun aside and stood behind her, reaching around to grasp her wrist.

  The moment I touched her, she jumped and jerked away from me. She struggled for breath as she faced me, her features pale. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Easy," I said, palms up. "I'm just correcting your aim."

  "I don't like it when people are behind me."

  I should have realized that. "I'm not going to hurt you, Emma, and you're just going to have to take my word on that if you want my help."

  She gulped, and several minutes passed before she relaxed her shoulders inch by inch. Finally she turned, facing her target.

  Slowly I approached her and wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened, but didn't move away this time. "You want to hold the star gently. Like this. With your fingers here, here, and here."

  "That can't be right." She flicked me a scowl. "I've held it like this before and I missed the target every time."

  "Just bare with me." I positioned her arm, with her elbow slightly bent. "Get your target in sight, then throw, rotating your wrist forward as you launch."

  She nodded, her gaze never leaving the hologram of the Lyross. There was hate in her eyes. As I guided her arm backward and forward, keeping my fingertips on the bend of her wrist, she tossed the star and it cut right into the Lyross's crotch.

  Ouch. I cringed.

  She laughed, and the sound was joyous. "I did it. I really did it!"

  I found myself grinning. "See. It's all in the wrist."

  "I want to do it again." Her amusement became dark, almost evil. "By myself, this time."

  Should I be concerned by that? I wondered, but handed her another star. She turned to the Lyross, lined up, and threw. Without my aid, the sharp metal sailed over its shoulder. "Damn it!"

  "Your wrist was stiff. Try again. But relax, like before."

  We stayed there for more than an hour, throwing one star after another. We never even got to the gun. It proved to be a workout and by the end we were sweating. She'd thrown as if she were slaying her biggest nightmare. But she was hitting more than she missed now, so it was worth it.

  When we paused to catch our breath, I finally asked about her tattoo. "Why a trident? And why on your face." Most girls would have gotten a rose or a butterfly on their back or ankle.

  A long while passed before she answered. "You heard the story of Poseidon?" she asked. We sat across from each other, leaning against the wall.

  "He's god of the sea, right?"

  She nodded.

  And that's when the truth hit me. Poseidon. Underwater. Lyross.

  "In myth Poseidon punishes someone with his trident. There's unimaginable power in it. So to me, the trident means vengeance. As to why it's on my face..." Her shoulders lifted in another of those deceptively casual shrugs. "I like to look at it. I like to be reminded that vengeance will one day be mine."

  My heart ached for her. To live with that kind of hate...it was one of the things that had driven me to Onadyn. I hoped she learned to control it before it controlled her. "I know what happened to you," I said softly, "and I want you to know--"

  "You don't know shit," she growled, cutting me o
ff.

  "Yes, Emma, I do." I peered over at her. "You were raped."

  Dark storm clouds seemed to envelop her, and she jumped to her feet. Our easy camaraderie was destroyed. "How do you know that? Who told you that?"

  I stood, too. "Emma, it's okay."

  "It's okay? Did you just say that it's okay?"

  "Yes."

  She sucked in a deep, shuddering gulp of air. "I did nothing wrong. But do you like your shame talked about, Phoenix? Do you like knowing that people know your darkest secret?" She didn't give me a chance to respond. "Who else knows?"

  "Ev--everyone in our class," I admitted.

  She laughed, the sound completely devoid of humor. "Some backup team you guys are. You're supposed to build me up, not tear me down. And now I find out that you've been talking about me behind my back. Thanks a lot." Her chin was trembling as she spun around and ran.

  "Emma," I called, but she didn't slow. I'd meant to help her, to express my sympathy and try to make her feel better. She was right, though. I hated it when people discussed my past.

  I scrubbed a hand down my face. Way to go, Phoenix. Way to go.

  Not wanting to be alone, I headed to the party. Surprisingly, I ran into Ryan along the way. We were the only two people in the hallway and I had to wonder if we were being tested.

  Our gazes locked. He nodded as he passed me, our shoulders brushing. I shivered, and he sucked in a breath. But we never spoke. I couldn't help but experience a rush of disappointment.

  At the mixer, I found myself alone--just as I hadn't wanted to be. Everyone was already paired off and things had wound down. Then Cara, who was laughing at something Erik said, spotted me and motioned me over.

  Did I want to remain alone or become a third wheel? Not really needing to think about it, I clomped to them.

  "Hey," she and Erik said in unison. At that, they shared a laugh.

  "Hey." I sat in the vacant spot beside them on the couch.

  "Heard about your punishment," Erik said. "But you survived, I see."

  "Yeah. It was iffy for a while."

  He grinned. His arm was wrapped around Cara's shoulders, and he was tracing his fingertips up her arm. Cara leaned her head against him. They looked so in sync. So perfect for each other.

  It was kind of sickening.

  "Want some punch or something?" he asked me.

  "No, thanks." Why couldn't Ryan be that solicitous? "So what have you been up to?"

  "The usual." His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Class, class, and more class. Alien history is a real snoozefest. Rick Townsend actually did fall asleep. They made him pack his bags that day. Probably wiped his memory before sending him home, poor bastard."

  Wow.

  "We've lost three boys already."

  I glanced to Cara. So far we hadn't lost anyone. I think, perhaps, it was only a matter of time, though. Jenn didn't have the instinct and if Emma's aim didn't improve on a more regular basis.... And if I didn't start obeying the rules..."I hate feeling like the ax could drop at any moment, you know?"

  "Yeah," he said. "But, hey, if you ever need anything, just let me know. I'd hate to see you go."

  What a sweet thing to say. No wonder Cara was wild for him. "Thank you."

  He kissed Cara's cheek, detangled from her, and stood. "Bradley's calling me over. Looks like Kitten's about to kill him."

  As he walked away, I found myself staring at his back. He was actually a pretty great guy. The world needed more like him. Hell, maybe Ryan should take boyfriend lessons from him.

  Next combat class, I just might suggest it. Maybe that would pull Ryan from his ignore Phoenix phase. Well, a girl could hope.

  13

  A day that had seemed promising, then disappointing, then promising again gave way to a tension-filled night. Kitten and I were woken up after only two hours of sleep. One second our room lights were out, the next they were beaming brightly.

  The computer voice said, "Please rise, Kitten and Phoenix. You have fifteen minutes to prepare for a tour. Meet in room three A."

  "A tour?" Kitten grumbled sleepily.

  I yawned and rubbed my eyes. When would my internal clock adjust to these midnight hours? "This is cruel and unusual punishment. We're growing kids. We need sleep."

  "What kind of tour, do you think?"

  "Of the building?"

  "Nah. We've seen everything."

  "I don't think they'd take us out, though." I hadn't seen sunlight, or moonlight for that matter, in weeks. Yawning again, I stretched my arms over my head.

  Kitten lumbered out of bed and shook my leg. "Get up, sleepy."

  "No."

  "Up or I'll tell Ryan Stone you luuuv him."

  Frowning, I slapped at her hand. "Then I'll tell Bradley you want to have his baby. What do you think of that?"

  "Ryan and Phoenix," she sang, then she made kissing noises. "Up, up, up."

  "Fine," I grumbled. "I'm up. I'm up." I eased into a sitting position.

  We had a routine for getting ready. She got the bathroom for five minutes. I got it for the next five, then we did two minutes of running in place to get our blood pumping. So far, the system had worked.

  "Think the boys are coming?" she asked as she strode into the shower stall, stripping along the way.

  "God, I hope not." They'd only be trouble. Fun, irreverent, and amusing, yes, but mostly trouble. Neither of us concentrated when the boys were around. We needed to start, though, since we'd begin classes with them when we reached the next level of our training.

  If we reached it, which I was determined to do.

  Dressed in our white shirts and slightly loose white pants (I guess we'd both lost a little weight), we headed to room 3A. The day before, Kitten had ripped the sleeves of her shirt and frayed the hem of her pants, giving the uniform a little personality.

  As we jogged down the hall, I tied my top in the middle and rolled the waist of my pants, revealing a thin strip of stomach. Most noticeably, however, was the skull and crossbones I'd drawn on the back of my shirt. I'd had trouble falling asleep, had seen the pen and, well...hopefully I wouldn't get in trouble. But how could I? Defacing clothing was not mentioned in the rule book.

  "I'm sore," Kitten panted. "Already I need a break."

  "I just need a bed."

  We ran into a few of the other girls along the way: Cara, Lindsay, and Dani. They were a sea of pretty (but tired) faces. Ahead, I saw a door slide open and then Emma was racing from it. Our gazes connected briefly before she looked away.

  I wanted to talk to her, to apologize, but now wasn't the time. "Where's Jenn?"

  "Didn't you hear? She was booted late last night," Cara said.

  Shit! There was a moment of silence as the rest of us absorbed that information. "Why?" I finally asked, though I could guess.

  "I wasn't told."

  At the entrance to 3A, we all had our hands scanned to prove we were there. Mia Snow was waiting for us inside, and I experienced a wave of deja vu. The scene was eerily similar to my first night at camp. Only this time I was with friends and I knew what I was doing.

  This time I belonged.

  I was a part of something greater than myself and the knowledge filled me with pride. Suddenly I wasn't quite so exhausted. I couldn't allow myself to be sent home like Jenn. Poor thing, though she was probably happier.

  "Good morning, girls," Mia said. As usual, she wore black syn-leather from neck to ankle. There was a bruise on her chin, as if she'd recently been in a fight. I wanted to ask her about it, but didn't. I'd learned the woman did not like personal questions, and I hadn't yet mastered the fine art of insidious interrogation--getting answers without seeming like I was probing for them.

  "What's going on?" I asked. "What kind of tour are we taking?"

  "The scary kind." Steps clipped, Mia strode to the door. "Follow me. I'll explain more when we're in the car."

  We truly were leaving the building. Wow.

  Why, though? Why now?

&
nbsp; Mia led us through the hallways, past the classrooms, past the Common, which was empty. Quiet. At the doors that led into the restricted area, she punched in a series of buttons and had her hand scanned.

  The doors opened. We stepped into that forbidden hallway, and Kitten whispered, "What did she mean, scary?" Her golden eyes glittered, and her expression lit with excitement.

  "Hell if I--know," I finished lamely as I drank in our new surroundings. Unlike the Common, this area pulsed with life. Heavily armed men and women strode in every direction. One man was dragging an unconscious Ell Rollis from one corner to another.

  Up close, I could see the alien's dry, yellow skin. Without a nose, its face was grotesque. Its teeth were sharp and protruded over its lips. "What's going on?"

  "Business as usual," Mia said.

  Kadar passed us next, and he nodded in greeting. "Girls."

  "Hi, Kadar," Lindsay said, her voice high and breathless.

  Crushing, I guess. When had that happened? Kadar was gorgeous, sure, but I couldn't see him falling for a student. Besides, the man was probably married with three hundred kids. Poor Linds. But, really. Who was I to judge? Queen of the doomed crushes, that was me.

  I wasn't even going to think his name.

  Le'Ace passed us next. She and Mia pretended not to see each other. The two obviously hated each other, but neither had ever said why.

  I'd heard rumors, of course.

  According to gossip (not that I listened, cough, cough), Le'Ace had stopped aging a long time ago. She'd supposedly been here on and off for over fifty years. Did I believe that? Uh, no. Anyway, Mia had supposedly been a student, one of the more rebellious ones, always making trouble. Did I believe that? Uh, yeah. The story went on to say that Le'Ace had been her instructor and had killed one of Mia's friends for purposefully giving the camp's location to an enemy.

  That, too, I could believe.

  Breathing in the scent of coffee, I forced my attention on the room, memorizing details just as I'd been taught. There were desks and papers, computers and chairs like you'd find in a regular office. Multiple holoscreens and a panel of voice receivers consumed one wall. In my alien biology class, I'd learned that alien voice was similar to human DNA. Their voices contained some sort of frequency ours didn't, outlining their species and gender. And so, recorders were placed all over New Chicago (and the rest of the world) to monitor in case a crime was committed.

  I wasn't given a chance to study anything else because we reached the doorway that led outside. A few steps, and I stood just beyond the threshold. That's when I stopped, forgot about the building, and drank in the beauty of the night.