by O. J. Lowe
He’d never wanted to do that. He’d accepted that there were things he could work on, Anne had told him as much. She’d shown him that his strategies were inherently flawed, she was the first person he’d ever been truly close to. Maybe he’d misread her intentions, maybe he’d built her up too much in his head because of that. She was attractive, something about her he couldn’t quite place. Didn’t help that she was so bloody nice, he didn’t get the impression that it was an act either. When he’d found out she was with Unisco, more than that, a sniper, it had made him question his judgement. A sniper’s entire purpose was to eliminate targets, that took a certain cold rationale and yet he’d found her to be the friendliest of them lot.
He wanted to be alone with his salted porridge, he didn’t think that he was going to get it. Jacobs slid himself into the bench across from him, gave him that curiously eager look which scratched at his brain like a feral kitten. Divines save him from curious people looking into that which wasn’t their business.
“How’d you do on your sim?” he asked. “Seriously, come on, talk to me. You looked pissed this morning.”
“I can’t see that it’s any of your…”
Jacobs cut him off. “Yeah, we can do this dance, you can tell me it isn’t any of my business, I can tell you to come-on-talk-to-me, we can back-and-forth for a while or we can skip all that and get down to it like actual human beings.”
That made him smirk. Jacobs might be an idiot at times, but he wasn’t entirely stupid. That situation was entirely what would likely have happened. Apparently, he was that easy to read.
“Weren’t complimentary,” he said eventually. “Put it that way.”
“What did you fail on?”
“Apparently I tried to kill everyone. Succeeded as well. They changed the game to beat me.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “With everyone dead, they brought in reinforcements. Too damn many of them.”
Jacobs whistled. “Wow. That’s impressive.”
“I thought so too.” Unbelievable. Was he really agreeing with another cadet? He must be tired. “I’ll tell you, those blasts hurt.”
The look he got was one of surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Getting shot with those blasters in the simulation hurt.” He rubbed his side, saw the look of confusion on Jacobs’ face. Divines, could he really be that dense? Theo had always assumed you needed a relative amount of intelligence to work for Unisco.
“Oh, right.” Jacobs shrugged. “I didn’t get shot.”
He felt his eye twitching again, tried to ignore it. “You didn’t?”
“No. When they overwhelmed me, I surrendered.” He actually looked smug about it. Theo felt the urge to smash his head against the table. Feeble, little… Something was digging into his hand, he opened it up, let the spoon clatter to the table. Spatters of porridge fell everywhere, he didn’t register it.
“You surrendered?” He couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. “Things got a little tough and you gave up?!”
“There were loads of them around me…” Jacobs was on the defensive now, had his hands up in front of him, Theo had already decided he wasn’t letting him off the hook.
“You should have fought. You didn’t know it was a damn simulation at the time! They could have killed you!” Anger laced his voice, he wasn’t shouting but he felt like it. Best not to cause too much of a scene. A few people were looking around at the two of them.
“And what did they do to you? Pat you on the head for effort and send you away for milk and cookies? They did kill you.”
“Only when they changed the game!” Part of him was dangerously close to conceding that Jacobs had a point and that unsettled him. Coming close to seeing his point of view was worrying. If he admitted his way was wrong, it’d bring a lot of his flaws up to the surface, he didn’t want it to come to that. He’d softened his stances once, for Anne, and despite the results, he regretted it had had to come to that.
“They can do that! Life’s a game that’s always going to hold all the cards against you.”
“I refuse to accept that!”
He slumped forward in his seat, folded his arms in front of him, rested his chin on his wrists. The sigh escaped him, he gave Jacobs a weary smile. By his standards, it was a smile. It probably looked like a stomach pain on anyone else. Spilt porridge stained his sleeves, he’d worry about that later. They were old clothes, not any part of an official uniform. Probably ready for the trash anyway.
“You know why I became a spirit caller?” he asked. He couldn’t keep the fatigue out of his voice. He hadn’t slept well since the simulation, the burns on his side keeping him awake. More than that, the failure haunted him. He’d done everything he could, he’d used every inch of his willpower, the skills they’d taught him, and it hadn’t even been enough. He’d been overwhelmed, plain and simple. No other way of describing it.
“The credits, the women, the prestige, the glory?” Jacobs asked. A perfectly inane answer, exactly what he’d have expected from him. Credits didn’t motivate him, they were a means to an end. Women, he could care less about, barring one. The glory was a fleeting sensation, a temporary fix for sure, a tiny bit would leave you wanting more and more if it was your choice of high. He liked the feeling, he didn’t think he was dependent on it for his ego.
Prestige was an interesting choice though, now he thought about it. Not a million miles away from the truth yet still so far.
“I wanted to prove I was the best,” he said. “I wanted to prove I was better than my father, I wanted to prove that there was nobody who could touch me.”
Jacobs said nothing, miracles did apparently occur and for that, he was grateful. John Cyris had never been a renowned spirit caller, he’d dabbled in the sport, but his talents had lay in other areas on the murky side of the law. He’d gone with the name Jameson from his mother, didn’t want to be associated with the bastard. If he’d gone by Theobald Cyris, people would have talked. They’d have detracted from his achievements and he didn’t want that. He wanted them to be recognised as truly great records.
“I nearly did that, you know,” he continued. “I nearly proved I was the best in the kingdoms. I beat your sister. I overcame Katherine Sommer. Would have beaten your idiot best friend for sure…” He saw the flush in Jacobs’ cheeks. “I genuinely have no idea how he got to that final. Not a chance he was even close to that good before.”
“Some people grow into a tournament,” Jacobs shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing to be able to do, start off poorly and get better as you go along.”
Again, he had to concede Jacobs was right there. His start had been okay, enter Anne and her tutelage. She’d taught him that while his techniques served him well to a point, they were predictable and lacked subtlety. He’d accepted her help because he’d seen what she could do, and he wanted a piece of it.
“So, you’re telling me that you knew he’d get there?”
“I just thought I’d be fighting him in the final.” Jacobs’ grin was beyond ridiculous, so proud and yet so naïve. Theo wondered what effect it’d have if he slapped it away, just reached over and cracked him. As satisfying as it might be, it’d serve no purpose beyond brief gratification and the trouble that would follow outweighed that. “Anyway, you didn’t beat him. We’ll never know what might have happened there if the bout had been allowed to come to a natural conclusion.”
Another point where he was correct. Theo knew he’d been on the up when Coppinger had interrupted. It wasn’t impossible he might have won. It wasn’t impossible he could have let it all go and lost. Nobody would ever know.
“Anyway, I nearly made it. I’d have done it, made it to the top. I’d have been recognised as the best in the kingdoms. More than the best, I’d have been superior to them all. You. Taylor. Sommer. Roper. Wallerington. None of you would have done what I did.”
“I presume that you’re going somewhere with this,” Jacobs said. “Because if you are, I just do
n’t see it.”
He ignored him. He wasn’t here to make Jacobs’ life easier for him. The harder he had to work to figure something out, the better for him.
“I was nearly the best. If I’d won that tournament, nobody would be able to take it away from me. They wouldn’t have been able to dispute it. Winner of the Quin-C can claim that title of best caller. I’d have achieved superiority.”
“For a while anyway.” Jacobs didn’t sound like he was buying what he was saying. That didn’t matter. He didn’t need his validation. “Someone would have knocked you off your perch eventually. Can’t win them all. And that’s why you failed the sim.”
“You’re a psychologist now?”
“Nope, but that’s what they told me. The point of that exercise was to make you realise that there are some things that you can’t beat. No matter how hard you try or how hard you fight, there’ll always be a tipping point. You’ll hit a wall you can’t climb. It wasn’t meant to be beaten, it was to make sure you tasted defeat.”
Theo said nothing. Had nothing he could say.
“You get this way after every defeat? Take it so personal?”
“Yep. Those who accept defeat will never taste success.”
“And who told you that? Your dear old dad?”
That was a cheap shot, Theo quickly realised. His fists bunched under the table. Deep breath. One. Two. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears.
Don’t do anything stupid, don’t do anything stupid, he repeated to himself mentally.
They were in so much damn trouble, they’d had to be pulled apart in the mess hall. Apparently trying to smash a fellow cadet’s head in with a bowl was frowned upon. He’d tried. He really had. That quip had been uncalled for. The only saving grace from the whole thing was the hardness of Jacobs’ head and the flimsy nature of the crockery in this place. Anything sturdier and he’d be in the infirmary with a cracked skull. All he bore was a bandage on his forehead. Maybe it’d leave a scar.
Good. It’d serve him right for making that comment. He thought he’d heard all the comments about his father, he didn’t realise that they still got to him like that. His own mouth hurt like a bitch, Jacobs had got a few good licks in on him and the bastard could hit. He was a head and a half taller than Theo, twice the size, he should have a punch on him. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth, bitter and coppery. The urge to spit had been gnawing at him ever since. Testing with his tongue, it felt like one of his teeth had been loosened, every time he poked the offending item, he felt the irritation surge through him.
Not that he was going to likely get the chance to dwell on it. So far, they’d been thrown into an office, someone was on the way down to deal with them. He didn’t know who, he could only suspect. No matter who showed up, he got the feeling they were going to get the mother of all bollockings for what had gone down. Violence between cadets was frowned upon outside of training, he’d be amazed if one of them, if not both were still at the academy come the end of the day.
Jacobs hadn’t said anything, not since he’d joined him from the infirmary. The look on his face was priceless, Theo would have paid anything to see it more frequently when conjoined with the bliss of silence. He didn’t want to talk right now. He didn’t have anything to say. Instead he looked around the office, tried to work out who it belonged to. No clues sprang out at him, given they’d had a rudimentary introduction to situational analysis, that didn’t bode well for him. The only analysis he’d developed of his current situation was that he was screwed. He didn’t know how much it bothered him, he’d wanted to join Unisco, become a minted agent. He’d wanted the prestige of being able to say that, even if it was just to himself.
A smile played across his mouth. Maybe it did all come back down to his father. John Cyris’ only son becoming an avatar of justice, a man of law and order. He’d wanted to stick it to him for as long as he could remember, and this’d do it. Cyris had been a criminal, there were stories that he’d gone straight in the last months, he no longer did what it was rumoured he’d spent his life doing. Rather now, he practiced what he preached. Peace. Making the kingdoms a better place. Theo didn’t buy it, but since he had no desire to talk to the man to dispute it, he couldn’t care less.
The door to the office opened, Takamishi strode in with a face like thunder, Konda following him. Konda looked more amused than anything else, arms folded in front of him. They both rose to their feet, threw a salute to the two of them. It felt, Theo thought, a wholly meagre gesture. They were in the shit, him perhaps more, but following the protocol wasn’t going to soften the punishment thrown at them. Still he’d done it though, maybe it might earn them just a few plus points. By them, he meant him. He couldn’t care less about Jacobs. That much he’d always tried to make abundantly clear and yet he still tried to be friends.
“Well, well, well,” Takamishi said, his voice low and the sarcasm thick with it. “Well, I never. You two have been certainly busy today, haven’t you? Brawling in the mess hall. Trips to the infirmary…” Doctor Stenner had looked over him, judged him okay. She’d given him an apologetic smile as she’d sent him on his way. Theo liked Stenner. She knew what she was doing, she didn’t take any shit and she told it how it was. In other words, his kind of person. There weren’t enough of them about it in today’s world. There were people who said nothing and there were people who said too much, with rarely a middle ground. “… and now I have to deal with you!”
Sarcasm had been overwritten by anger, the fury radiated from him. Spittle sprayed the desk in front of him. Theo fought the urge to wipe his cheek. That really wouldn’t go down well, he could read the signs enough to realise that. “Because I clearly don’t have enough to do with my life.” He pointed a finger in between them, let it hover, clearly debating which of them he was going lash out at first. Theo kept his mouth shut, didn’t dare move a muscle. Just in case.
Some part of him had known this would come, had been waiting for it in expectation since he’d shattered that bowl against Jacobs’ skull. Didn’t make it any worse though, he knew that for damn sure.
“You’re both lucky I don’t throw you out here and now!” Takamishi said. “If it were up to me, I would do. You’re both walking a knife edge. Screw up one more time…”
Konda cleared his throat. “Administrator, if I may interject. I’ve reviewed the footage of the incident. I don’t dispute punishment is in order. In fact, I encourage it.”
Terrific, Theo thought. The look on the inquisitor’s face, he’d thought that Konda was about to speak up for them and get them out of the shit. No such luck, it would appear.
“Because they broke the rules, and if there is one rule of society that is immutable, it is that blatant transgression of the laws needs to be snipped in the bud or those offences will grow and grow.”
“You want me to throw them out?” Takamishi looked hopeful suddenly, his face lighting up like he’d stared at the sun and not gotten burned.
Konda snorted. “Hells no, I think it’s time to promote both of them to the next stage of their training. I’ve reviewed the footage, I think I already have recommendations.”
The smile on Takamishi’s face faded, his composure took a moment to recover. “Go on?” The disappointment in his voice was hard to miss.
“Hitting Cadet Jacobs with the bowl was an inspired bit of improvisation from Cadet Jameson. Any blunt object in a storm, as the saying is paraphrased. We spend a lot of time trying to teach those improvisation skills to combat specialists, this cadet did it naturally. Even looking at his simulation scores, he might have failed it, but it was a spectacular performance in failure. He has potential, he’s worked well in unarmed combat and blaster training. Temperament and self-control are lacking but that’s not always a negative thing. It can be worked on.”
Was he being punished or not now? He couldn’t tell. A moment ago, it had sounded like Konda wanted him out the door and now he was praising hi
m.
“Cadet Jacobs on the other hand, was trying to wheedle information of out Cadet Jameson in the build-up to the assault, he was trying to get him to talk. Was succeeding as well, it’s a skill you can’t teach, reaching people on their own level. He even managed to coax a reaction out of him, that’s impressive. Granted his judgement may have been less than sound in doing it while they had a weapon in reach, but you can’t have everything.”
Konda grinned at Jacobs. “Ever thought about joining the inquisitors, boy?”
Theo snickered. “Well that’d be about right. I heard most Unisco inquisitors couldn’t fight worth a damn when it came down to it.”
Takamishi’s skin had gone a funny red colour, he looked ready to burst a blood vessel in his eyes. If he hadn’t been the target of that rage, Theo might have found it funny. What wasn’t funny was Konda’s reaction.
“Actually, Cadet Jameson, most inquisitors can fight exceptionally well, your information is flawed in that regard. Their duty is to enforce the Unisco regulations. Occasionally an agent needs to be apprehended and interrogated. You’ve seen the level of training we go through here for the basics. How do you think we bring in combat specialists who don’t wish to come quietly? Ask them nicely and pray?”
“He is a talented spirit caller as well,” Jacobs offered up. “I mean, he was a Quin-C finalist. You know, if that helps his case for being a combat specialist. Those guys have spirit duels sometimes, don’t they?”
“Sometimes,” Takamishi said, the anger still creasing his face. Out in front of him, he flexed his fingers, couldn’t bring himself to look at them. “It’s a handy skill to have in the locker, but when most agents are out in the field and under fire, if they have a blaster in hand, the instinct is to shoot back, not bring out a spirit and do something fancy that might not pay off.”
“Doesn’t count against him,” Konda said. “I’m recommending that following your time here, you both ship off to separate academies to develop yourselves further into your chosen fields…” He paused, let the sentence hang. “Unless you wish to add anything further to it? This is just my opinion, I’m not sure if Administrator Takamishi agrees with me or not.”
