Sirius Academy (Jezebel's Ladder)

by Scott Rhine

  She doubled over, queasy and pale. Zeiss rushed her out into the hall before the stage area flared with a crimson flash that only Actives could see. Rexes in the audience shouted, “No limits!”

  The girl vomited on the tile outside while Zeiss held back her hair.

  When she stopped to take a shaky breath, he gave her a handkerchief and whispered, “You feel what they go through?”

  Red nodded as she wiped her face and sleeve. “No one should have to experience that, but what happens to them afterward is worse.”

  “Go recover. I’ll see that this gets cleaned up.”

  ****

  When Red finally got to the BX, she bought two of every color combat pants they had, plus matching shirts and underwear. That way she wouldn’t have to learn to do laundry for another month. The first thing Risa said was, “Where are we going to put all this, loca?”

  “I’ve got to eat two meals, read a boring Chinese physics paper, and see if that bohunk of yours left me any ice cream. Pick on me tomorrow. I promise I’ll sleep under the heap till I get shelves installed or something. Oh, crap, I have to touch up my hair.” Her blonde roots showed through. She took off her flight suit so this one wouldn’t get stained like the last one.

  “I’m just saying, chica, this place is starting to look like an episode of Hoarders.”

  “I’m having my period and someone just slapped me with a dumb-ass demerit. You’re part of the problem or part of the solution,” Red snapped.

  “Wait, you got a demerit? Damn! You didn’t put that KICK ME sign on Horvath’s uniform did you?”

  “No, but I still think it’d be funny.”

  “Ain’t nothing funny about a demerit, girl,” Risa stressed. “What’d you do?”

  “I showed ‘conspicuous disrespect’ to a member of the faculty,” Red admitted.

  Risa shook her head. “They can assign you any number of nasty punishments to get it cleaned from your record. Did you call Z-man a dick head to his face?”

  “He doesn’t care about that, as long as it’s not in front of other students. No, I insulted his sacred professor.”

  “It ain’t cool to pick on an old cripple, chica.”

  “That old cripple can take care of himself better than half the mils in this place.”

  “What, you think Z is sweet on the guy? Is Sorenson gay?”

  “No. Sorenson’s violently het, I’m told,” Red explained, touching up her hair.

  Someone knocked at the door. Red barked, “Front camera: on.”

  They could see Sojiro on the TV, shuffling nervously at the door. “Lock: open,” Risa said. When he pushed the door open, she said, “Whassup, boyfriend?”

  The Japanese student stepped in, closing the door behind him. “Hey, chica bonita. I just came by to drop off a copy of my first episode.”

  Risa cooed encouragingly over the miniature manga. “This is so cool. You so nailed her with this. Look, Red, you’re a robot killer.”

  Sojiro leaned over to peek into the bedroom. “I’m trying to decide how to portray the demerit in the fantasy world. I’m thinking . . . whoa, you dye your hair?”

  Red kicked the bedroom door shut. “Pervert. You know I dye it, a different color every day.”

  He leaned close to the door. “That’s washable. You’re making it brown. I thought all the women wanted to be blonde.”

  Risa said, “At least tell her not to go disrespecting teachers in front of other teachers.”

  “No way,” said Sojiro. “She’s my hero. Literally, I get half my plot threads from you now. Besides, I wish I had the balls to talk back to Horvath like she does. I’d get pistol whipped.”

  “I think Grunt-Monkey likes it when she does that demonstration thing on him,” Risa whispered.

  “Oh, like you wouldn’t let Herk do a takedown on you?” meowed the artist.

  She snickered. “That’s different.”

  “That girl down in room three was asking Herk to help her move furniture the other day,” Sojiro began.

  Red opened the door. She came out in baggy, urban-camouflage pants, T-shirt, and a tan photographer’s cargo vest. “Don’t. He’s lying to get you riled.”

  Risa glared and the Japanese student said, “You’re calling me a liar?”

  “You’re not denying it,” Red countered.

  “But I’m allowed to take offense if you call me a liar.”

  “How do you do that?” the Latina asked her roommate.

  “Please don’t tell anybody I’m blonde. It’ll ruin my image,” Red begged, ignoring the question.

  Sojiro laughed. “I kept the princess nightgown a secret. The mils would leave me alone for a year for that tidbit.”

  “What do you think of my new look?” Red asked. Her hair was its familiar brown with no streaks.

  “Add the right hat and you could be on an elephant hunt,” he said.

  “Or Crocodile Dundee,” said Risa.

  “I love that movie,” squealed the Japanese man. “We have to get together for movie night sometime. Everyone brings their favorite DVD and a snack.”

  “Enough about you, Red,” Risa complained. “Look at this gorgeous artwork.”

  Red accepted the black-and-white manga from her roommate and nodded. “You’re a visionary, boy.” Opening to the first page, she read, “The city had forgotten what it was made for. What was once a launch pad had become a prison.” Flipping through the pages, she deduced, “That’s a metaphor for this island!”

  Sojiro pointed. “That’s why I would never sell you out, girl. You get it. And better still, you want to change it. You can’t buy that.”

  “BFFs,” said the short girl in BDUs that were too big for her. “What did you really come by for? You can tell us.”

  He traced the carpet with his boot. “I was hoping I could get you to show me a few moves with the paint guns. We have another exercise tomorrow for anti-terrorism, and I really suck. What do you say? Please? I’ll give you a shiatsu back massage.”

  Red shook her head. “I’m booked solid. Besides I’m more the grenade and artillery person. You want Herk for close-order drill.”

  “I think I might need some practice, too,” Risa chimed in.

  “Call him with the massage offer and throw in the rest of my ice cream and a new set of wire-strippers. He’ll do it for just the massage and share the ice cream,” Red predicted. “If you ladies will excuse me, I have a lecture to attend.”

  Chapter 10 – Kobiashi Maru

  Saturday morning, over breakfast at the cafeteria, Red met with her usual club, plus Toby from Extreme Environments and a physician called Auckland. That’s where he was from, technically, but no one could pronounce his Maori name.

  Red announced, “I’ve called you all together because it’s time we struck back against the Platinum Punisher.” Nobody laughed because the girl was wearing black, her serious color.

  When the doctor went, “Who?” Sojiro flashed him the sketch of Trina in leather. “Oh, count me in, mate. I didn’t go through five years of school and months of screening for abject humiliation.”

  “Exactly,” said Red. “Today’s drill is the perfect opportunity to get revenge.”

  “But this is an emergency medical-response drill,” Auckland protested. “We’ve been practicing first aid and building emergency shelters all week”

  Red raised a finger. “You have been practicing first aid. I’ve been studying the enemy. The drill is set in the storage tunnels. While we’re responding to the gas attack in the simulated subway, Horvath is going to hit us with a terrorist team.”

  “That’s against the Geneva Convention,” Auckland objected. Everyone else stared at him. “Right. I see your point. Terrorists don’t follow the rules. That’s just the sort of idealism this class is designed to beat out of me. But winning against Frau Horvath is rarer than a red-headed Muslim.”

  “I actually saw one of those at the mosque in Regent’s Park,” said Herk, amused.

  “Hey,
I just noticed, Herk: your English is a lot smoother,” Red announced looking at her roommate for confirmation.

  “Oops. Sometimes I slip,” the bomb tech admitted. Switching to the thicker accent, he said, “It is easier when people believe I am smart like tractor.”

  “A blond Chinaman?” tried Auckland.

  “Seen it,” said Risa, pointing across the room at one of Kaguya Mori’s groupies.

  “Well, I’m fresh out of offensive racial aphorisms,” the doctor admitted. “What’s the plan?”

  “She’s going to shoot you first,” Red said to the doctor.

  “Fantastic,” said Auckland.

  “That’s to demoralize the students and make sure no one gets proper treatment. Nothing personal,” explained Herk.

  “The point is,” Red whispered, “my goggles can see through the fog, and I can nail them.” She shaded the truth on that. Her hidden Empathy and Collective Unconscious skills would pinpoint the agents long before that. “But according to the rules, I can’t fire until they do.”

  “They might just be out for a morning stroll with AK-47s and gas masks,” quipped Sojiro.

  “Precisely. Auckland, I need you to stay as far away from me as possible, and use cover for as long as you can while the rest of us get into position.”

  “Should I make a big death scene, cause a distraction?” he offered.

  “No. Who was the best assistant during the first aid training?”

  “Toby.”

  The botanist replied, “Thanks. I specialized in organic chemistry, but I haven’t had much field experience.”

  Turning to Toby, she said, “I need you to grab as many superglue field patches as you can. Grunt-Monkey is the referee. He’s loyal but fair. If some of us get winged, slapping on one of those bandages will let us keep going.”

  “Roger.”

  “We can do that?” asked Sojiro.

  Herk shrugged. “In our class, anything you bring with you into the field is fair game. She won’t disallow.”

  Red continued, “That means everyone brings a bottle of water and a cloth for tying over your face. She’ll use actual tear gas to make it harder. Auckland, we need you to give your supplies to someone before you’re hit, in case it’s a grenade. Make it look casual.”

  “It’s a twenty-kilo pack, mate.”

  “Even better,” Red said. “Turn your back down the tunnel when we’re ready, and then take your pack off. She’ll try to make an example of that easy target. Wear extra padding so it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Very Sun-Tzu,” Auckland admitted.

  “Everyone be ready to dive for cover and draw when you hear my grenade launcher thump.”

  “Grenade launcher?”

  “I flew to shore to pick it up early this morning,” the girl in the big-game hunter’s outfit said with a grin. “It lobs water balloons fifty yards. We can fill the balloons with paint instead—a bit messy, but when you’re making omelets you have to break a few eggs.”

  “What about me?” asked Sojiro. “I’ve been practicing with the rifle.”

  “Hang back, act scared, and don’t let me out of your sight. Horvath will come gunning for me as soon as I ruin her exercise. I’ll run for the boundaries and try to get myself declared out-of-bounds, but she’ll be on me like a soccer fan on free beer.”

  Everyone looked at the Maori doctor. “Not offended. It’s the winning side that gets it for free, after all. You’ve actually made me thirsty. I think I’ll bring a bit of brew to keep me company as a deceased spectator.”

  To Sojiro, she said, “I’ve saved the best for last. Just as she comes in to finish me with her pistol, or the theater dagger she carries that squirts blood, you peg her with the rifle.”

  “So this is all to piss her off enough to come out in the open?” asked Risa.

  “Yup,” Red chuckled.

  ****

  As they gathered their equipment, the temperature outside reached ninety. Red and Auckland both wore thick Kevlar vests under their normal gear, knowing how much the fake bullets could hurt. Red carried as much paint as she could for the battle.

  Overnight, Horvath had turned off the air conditioning in the tunnels, making them stifling. Only a few LED strips lit the ceiling. “This is an oven,” complained Sojiro.

  “Radio silence,” hissed Red, already sweating.

  They crept down the dark stairs, afraid that the enemy could spring out at any moment. According to Herk, watching from the library roof with binoculars, the first group of twenty students had lasted only three minutes.

  Success would make Trina cocky, thought Red, grinning like a fox.

  She took the lead from the beginning, with support from the others from her club. “Two columns, each one takes a side. Put one of your hands on the wall and the other on the man in front of you—baby elephant style.” Letting her extra senses expand out, she led her team into the fog.

  Red muttered corrections to her people and had them fan out into the wisp-filled mock subway station. “Auckland, your team gets the train wreck. Sojiro and I fly cover, the rest of you start triage at the turnstiles. Olivetti, splice secondary communications into that cable there.”

  She’d do it by the numbers, until it wasn’t.

  She sensed people crouched at both ends of the tunnel. Seven bodies per side, one was a judge. Trina was on the hubward side of the spoke. Red’s heart was racing. It was going to be a massacre unless she evened the odds. Over the radio, she said, “Auckland, give us your Shatner impressions.”

  “You mean McCoy?” the doctor asked.

  “Whatever, just do it soon,” she coughed. Sweat dripped into her eyes and the smoke stung, despite their makeshift masks. “Back to back,” she whispered to Sojiro. “Full auto-fire.”

  Sojiro was breathing faster than a puppy bringing back a toy. “I can’t feel my fingers.”

  She tongued her mike to open broadcast and waited.

  Red watched Auckland take his pack off in slow motion and hand it to the man behind him. The instant that the soldier stepped clear, six laser sights lit the doctor’s back.

  When the shots ripped through the haze into the train area, Red crouched behind the cement trash can and lobbed three grenades into the support arch above the enemy team that had fired. “Judgment!” she bellowed over the PA.

  “Hold!” called Grunt-Monkey over the same channel. Shots stopped and people froze in place, locked in that horrible moment of ambush. The extra time would clear the air but clog their lungs. “Speak.”

  “The aft team is neutralized. I just collapsed that tunnel.”

  The judges shone flashlights and crunched numbers. Eventually it came down to gut adjudication. The Seal with the grenade-riddled team announced. “One survivor for aft attackers. Total loss for train defenders. Turnstile triage team at fifty percent.” They threw flags to denote the injured and dead.

  “Resume.”

  “Retreat!” Red ordered, momentarily forgetting to switch off the PA. She reloaded and lobbed more grenades, covering her team’s extraction. One ex-marine student got shot in the back while carrying an injured comrade. Three of the freshmen made it to daylight—Red, Toby, and Sojiro. Toby had emptied his pistol but the artist had almost a full clip.

  They were in the quad where people played Frisbee. Switching channels, she called to Herk, “Report.”

  “They’re pouring out the airport tunnel. Sniper on the dome. Get to cover (pthut). Damn, that’s going to stain.” The channel ended in static.

  “Run!” Red shouted.

  Taking out her sidearm, Red tossed it to Toby. The judge was struggling to keep up with them, spouting a stream of constant commentary into his logging device. Without realizing, she’d led the group back to the cafeteria where they’d planned the trap.

  Once through the door, she flipped a lunch table over as a barricade. “Hold them,” she told Toby. Around the corner, she boosted Sojiro up onto the exposed, cement-covered crossbeam.

  Red ran
to the cashier. Students scattered to the sides, excited to watch, but afraid to get hit.

  Toby took one more with him before taking an arm hit. He patched it with a Superglue kit, spilling five other bandages over the floor as he did so. “Toby, one o’clock, two meters,” she called out.

  The botanist popped back up in time to shoot an enemy in the gas mask at point blank. That would hold the other attackers for a while.

  Red calmed her breathing. She suddenly noticed Uncle Daniel standing disembodied across the room. He had to be spotting for Trina; they were a team. Extending, she could feel a blazing light of talent sneaking up from the women’s room. Rolling, Red squeezed off her last shot from three meters away before her opponent could register the weapon. Ms. Mori, the queen bee, shrieked, “You’ve ruined my outfit! It was a Scheinfeld original. Arggh!”

  “Civilian casualty. Disqualified,” stated Grunt-Monkey.

  Toby dropped his borrowed pistol and raised his hands. “Out!”

  Trina strolled up behind Red, creeping in from the kitchen. “Pity,” she said. “I was almost in range.”

  From eleven meters away, just outside her detection range, Sojiro pulled the trigger on auto-fire. “No!” Red shouted, too late. The judge hadn’t specified, but the whole team had been disqualified by the act.

  As Trina turned to draw her real sidearm at the clicking noise, a barrage of thirty blue paintballs stitched across her chest. She had no vest, and the chest pain radiated out from her to everyone with a link to collective unconscious. It hurt so bad that tears leaked from both Red and the fashionable Kaguya.

  The annoyingly perfect Mori was an unregistered psi. Red was reminded of one of her dad’s favorite expressions—it was hard to cheat right with all these damn liars around here.

  Red started to giggle uncontrollably.

  Sojiro, Toby, and the judges rushed over to administer first aid, but there was nothing for them to do.

  ****

  Zeiss barely got Daniel to the dean’s office before the ladies were released from the clinic. Dean Stanton fumed, “She’s a menace. One week here and she’s earned a suspension, that’s a record.”