by Greg Dragon
My thoughts soon grew fuzzy, and a warm sense of comfort spread throughout my tired body. My last thought was One day down, thirteen to go.
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A harsh banging shattered my dreams, and I sat up too quickly, completely disoriented. My head whacked something hard with a painful thump.
Groaning, I held my head in my hands so it wouldn’t explode. Where was I? It was so dark I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or awake. My head throbbed as it all came back. The washroom. EPIC. The mission. But what was that pounding noise?
I stood slowly and made my way to where the door should have been, feeling along the wall with one hand and holding my sore head with the other. It took a few seconds of fumbling to find the lock, and then I opened it a crack. “Hello?”
“Time to train,” a gruff voice whispered, and a hand yanked me through the door.
“What? Let go of me!”
The hand dropped. “Let your eyes adjust for a second,” my captor whispered. “You’re about to run into a wall. Here, follow me.”
“Vance?”
His hand reached for mine, more softly this time, and pulled me through the darkness.
It really was Vance. “But where are we going?”
“Training,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Neb was waiting for us in the training room, bleary-eyed and shirtless. Other than the three of us, the room was empty. The lights that had seemed sufficiently bright yesterday were barely adequate now, and shadows haunted the corners of the training arena. Now that my heart had slowed a bit, my mind was finally working right.
“You really are serious?”
“Our team has missions day and night. The sooner you get used to it, the better. Besides, the training room is all ours.”
“If I accidentally murder someone tomorrow out of exhaustion, I’ll blame you,” I muttered.
Neb barked a laugh, then clamped his mouth shut when Vance shot him a look.
“Why is Neb here?” I asked.
Vance paused. “Observation.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but suddenly understood the real reason. Vance was, in a small way, being a gentleman by refusing to be alone with me.
“I still don’t know why you’re really here,” Vance said, walking to the far corner. “But I’m going to find out right now. Let’s see what you can do.” He tilted a padded black cylinder and rolled it toward us. I eyed it with confusion. “This is a training stand,” he said. “I want you to pretend it’s a person. Punch it, kick it, whatever.”
I raised an eyebrow. This was training? Beating up a black piece of padded foam? This would be interesting. With a mighty heave, I threw my fists at it. I nearly fell over as the stand twisted under my weight. With a flush of embarrassment, I set myself again and kicked at it, almost missing altogether. Then I tried to use my shoulder to shove it aside. It didn’t budge. The thing must have weighed as much as a transport.
Neb was trying so hard not to laugh that his face was bright red. Even Vance had a smile tickling the corners of his mouth. I felt utterly and thoroughly humiliated. Putting my hands into fists, I faced them. “What?”
“Well, that answers that question,” Vance said, and Neb finally exploded with laughter. His snorts were so ridiculous that I glared at him, rubbing my sore shoulder.
“So why did they send you, then?” Vance muttered. “If you’re inexperienced, there could really only be one reason.”
“What’s that?” Neb asked, leaning calmly against the wall.
“A tool,” Vance said. “They want us to use her as a decoy or something. The Demander and the empress must not be satisfied with our performance.”
You could say that. I kept my face impassive.
“If that’s the case,” Vance said slowly, “it’s even more important that you learn to defend yourself, Treena. Neb, come here.”
Neb jumped to attention like a lapdog. I almost expected his tongue to start flapping. “Yes?”
“Teach her the basics. Just punches and kicks for today. Tell me when she’s got it.” He didn’t wait for an answer but retreated to the corner of the room where he’d gotten the stand. Then he sat on the floor, back to us, rigid and straight. I watched him in confusion.
“What good are kicks and punches when someone points a stunner at you?” I muttered. “I thought we’d be doing shooting practice or something.”
“They didn’t give me a stunner until I’d been here a month,” Neb said. “Gotta prove yourself first. Now I’ll show you how to punch. Make a fist and bend your thumb around the front.”
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It was hard to pay attention to Neb’s droning when Vance was training across the room. He had spent the first ten minutes sitting still, completely ignoring us. I watched him out of the corner of my eye while he stretched. Neb was making me punch the black stand—the bag, as he called it—and soon I could make it buck backward a little. It was a small feat, but it was progress. Then we moved on to kicks. It was about then that Vance started fighting the air.
It was the strangest, most intoxicating thing I’d ever seen. His breathing deepened and came out in short bursts as his arms and legs whipped through the air—faster and faster. Soon his entire body was a black, dancing blur. Even Neb had stopped talking and stared in awe.
Vance dropped to the ground and spun as if kicking the feet out from under an invisible opponent and then leaped forward with a yell. Then there was a series of bullet-quick punches just before he leaped again, avoiding an unseen attack. His arm whipped out behind him as if he were holding off another man to his right, and his leg swept out again as he turned. Three quick kicks, each in a different direction, and another yell. I hardly dared blink.
I’d watched Dresden get sweaty playing khel hundreds of times, and his tall, lean body was carefully toned. But there was something raw about Vance, something wild and powerful. His build was shorter and wider than Dresden’s, yet somehow he seemed much quicker. And there was something unsettling about his eyes.
Suddenly those eyes were on me, and I realized I was staring. With a quick clearing of my throat, I turned back to the bag. Vance straightened and wiped his forehead. His shirt, wet with perspiration, clung tightly to his hardened frame. “Let’s see what you’ve learned.”
“You just want a break,” I said and swallowed hard. Vance had taken off his sweaty shirt. I tore my eyes away and locked my gaze onto the bag. My cheeks were hot as I kicked it again with a grunt. After Vance’s performance, he probably thought I was the weakest, silliest girl he’d ever met.
He didn’t smile. “Show me a punch.”
I hit the bag as hard as I could. It didn’t budge.
Vance shook his head. “No, I mean punch me.” He put a gentle hand on my shoulder and eased me toward him.
I shrugged. “Fine.” With a heave, I threw my fist toward his chiseled stomach still glistening with sweat. He grabbed my fist before it connected. “Not there. If I were trying to attack you, that wouldn’t even slow me down. Aim here.” He pointed to his solar plexus, where his rib cage met in the center.
“All right,” I said slowly and struck again. This time I nearly touched his skin before he swiped my fist away. I hadn’t even seen his hand move.
“Better. Your aim is actually pretty decent. You’re putting your whole body into it, but you still don’t have much power.”
I blinked. “Um, I’m not a huge person. What else am I supposed to do?”
It was a sarcastic comment, but he stood straighter, his expression thoughtful. A flash of movement in the corner caught my eye. It was Neb, trying to imitate Vance. He kicked and punched the air, but his movements looked awkward and disconnected. There was nothing of the smooth and flowing dancelike movements Vance had just demonstrated.
“What was that?” I asked. “I mean, what you just did.”
My question pulled him out of his thoughts. “Oh, just something my father taught me. Martial a
rts. It’s a kind of combat.”
“Will you teach me?”
A flicker of surprise flashed across his face, but he covered it quickly. “I’ve never taught anyone before.”
“Really? But you’re the trainer.”
“I show everyone the basics, but these guys prefer boxing. They think all you need is a hard-enough punch to the face and your opponent is out for the count.”
“Isn’t he?”
Vance gave a sideways smile, really looking at me for the first time. “Sometimes.”
I pulled my arm up for a stretch, feeling my muscles stiffening already. I’d be very sore tomorrow. Or, rather—looking at my techband—later today. We’d burned an hour already. The other guys would be up soon. Somehow the realization made me want to enjoy these quiet moments while they lasted. I felt Vance’s eyes on me as I settled myself in front of the bag again, pulling my arms behind me for a series of punches. After a couple of minutes, I felt my body warming up comfortably, my breathing becoming quicker and more rhythmic. I had almost forgotten about Vance when he spoke.
“Yes.”
“Hmm?”
“Yes, I’ll teach you.” He grabbed the bag and leaned it onto its side, spinning it effortlessly out of the way. “But I want you to practice on a real person from now on.”
I hid a smile. “Fair enough.”
“And,” he continued, “you need to throw away everything you have been up to this point.”
“Excuse me?”
“Watch,” he said. I barely saw his arm move and realized he was throwing a punch. My body instinctively leaped backward. Vance’s fist stopped just short of where I had stood. “See that?”
Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I gaped at him. “What was that? You showing off now?”
“You retreated.”
“What else should I do, get hit?”
“That’s just it. You’ve been taught by NORA to be docile and obedient, to run away from conflict. Conquer that reflex. Smugglers will only attack if they think they can beat you. Fight back, and suddenly you’re not worth the effort.”
What did he mean, you’ve been taught? The guy had obviously been in this dungeon too long. And I was anything but docile. “Fine, then teach me to defend myself. But I’m not sitting around until I get attacked, Vance. I want to get in the first strike.”
His expression was thoughtful as he nodded. “Deal.”
We practiced for another hour before I couldn’t take any more. My body was stiff and sore from what felt like an actual beating by the time the first guy awoke. My “room” was quickly occupied by a group of sleepy, dirty, sour-breathed men who just kicked my pillow aside. There would be no nap this morning.
Day two had begun.
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While the men did their business, I ran through my stretches, sitting on the mat in the training room. “Two weeks,” I muttered. It felt like forever. There were twelve guys, six on each team, which meant I’d have to rule out one guy per day. I sighed. It didn’t make sense to hide in here, pretending like I wasn’t a part of the group. It was time to start asking questions and getting to know the team. I forced my aching legs to stand and started for the bedrooms.
The sound of muffled voices, low and deep, stopped me. It came from the stairwell. I moved to the door, straining to hear. The voice was unfamiliar.
Curious, I put my ear right up against the heavy door, but it didn’t seem to help. I sat against the wall and grabbed my feet into a leg stretch just in case someone walked in. I could only pick out a word here and there. Promise. Tomorrow. Resistance.
I perked up, straining to hear over the sounds of the guys getting ready in the other room. What conversation was so secret that a guy had to sneak into the stairwell?
He must have finished his call, because the talking stopped and I heard the snap of a techband screen closing. I leaped back and grabbed a weight, pretending to have been lifting for a while, although I didn’t have to pretend the shakiness. A bulky man from Team One entered and nudged the door shut. I couldn’t remember his name. He glanced at me, murmured a hello, then disappeared into the bedroom.
Neb peeked in from where the large man had just gone. “The guys are done. You can have the washroom back now.”
“Who was that again?” I asked.
Neb looked down the hallway, then shot me a strange look. “That’s Poly. He’s the official leader of EPIC, although he’s given Team Two over to Vance. Why?”
“Nothing. Just hadn’t met him yet, is all.”
Neb nodded and turned back. I followed slowly, reviewing the bits of conversation I’d overheard and committing them to memory.
Poly, the Team One EPIC leader, was my first real lead.
12
At least the girl could take a fast shower. I’d walked in ten minutes after she had, and she was already in the bedroom, all dressed.
She glanced up at me and froze. Her uniform hung crooked on her slender neck, nearly exposing a bare shoulder. Her wet hair fell down her back, messy and wild. Her hand was extended over Daymond’s bed, and various personal items were spread across the blanket.
The horror in her expression made me raise an eyebrow. “Looking for something?”
She jerked her hand back and shoved it into her uniform pocket. “I—uh—just needed . . . I was looking for a comb.”
My mouth twitched. “A comb.”
“I left mine.” Straightening her back, she stared at me.
She hadn’t brought anything with her, which seemed weird for a girl. Even the guys had a few belongings from home. It was yet another puzzle piece in the mystery of her past.
“You can use mine.” I retrieved a black, fine-toothed comb from a bag under my bunk. She held back when I approached, as if unsure she should accept, but I gave what I hoped was a friendly smile and handed her the comb.
“Thanks,” she muttered and inspected it before working it through the tangles on her head.
I sat on my bed and watched. Her hair seemed darker wet, more of a light brown color than the standard fake blonde.
That thought disgusted me. Treena was no different than every other NORA girl. I was fascinated because of her Rating, but that was it. Besides, there was an important matter that needed discussion. I took a deep breath and plunged in. “Why were you spying on Poly?”
She stopped, the comb frozen midswipe. “What?”
“Trying to get the mission details in advance?”
“No. Of course not.”
“It’s probably weird for you being the only girl, but the same rules apply to you as the rest of us. When Poly receives orders, he’ll share them with us when he’s ready.”
She sighed as if angry at herself. “I don’t really care what our orders are. I’m stuck here, like it or not.” She bent over and began swiping at her hair with my comb again.
An uncomfortable silence filled the air as I processed her words. Most new trainees were excited to be here, but Treena obviously wasn’t. She’d also failed her initiation, although I had passed her anyway. The other EPIC guys hadn’t hesitated at all on their first mission. They’d been totally fine—even eager—to arrest anyone who broke the law.
She whipped her hair back and straightened, and for the first time I noticed her necklace. It was a delicate silver strand that disappeared inside her uniform, held there as if by something heavy. When she saw me looking, she tucked it out of sight again. A gift, maybe?
A realization hit. “You have a boyfriend. That’s why you’re here.”
“What?”
“Let me guess,” I said, my voice flat. “Blond, just like every other pill gulper in NORA. Really smart. High Rating, of course.”
“That’s none of your business.”
Yes. Definitely a boyfriend. “You just joined my team. You’re spying on our leader and poking through our things. I’d say it’s definitely my business.”
If she’d been pale before, now she went bright red. Th
e rush of color to her cheeks only confirmed that something was up. I was definitely going to find out why she was here. I’d protect her, but I wouldn’t trust her.
If only she wasn’t so blasted nice to look at.
I stood and walked out, calling over my shoulder, “Keep the comb.”
13
I waited exactly two minutes after Vance left before entering the training room. So much for being clever. Even if I could find the spy, how could I go to the empress without proof? If Vance already suspected me, my time alone would be limited from now on. I had to be more careful.
As I walked in, Poly tossed me something. I caught it in one hand and examined it. A nutrition pill, but twice the size of my regular ones. I wiped it clean as discreetly as I could, then popped it into my mouth. Seconds later, a fullness filled my stomach, but there was also something else. A sudden burning sensation.
“What the fates is in that pill?” I asked.
“Caffeine,” Neb said. “The capsule gives you constant energy for about four hours. We only get these ones right before a mission.”
“We have a mission? Like, this morning?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly our techbands vibrated as one. I flipped my screen. “EPIC Team: Report to chopper pad immediately.”
Chopper pad. That could only mean one thing—air travel. I swallowed, trying to keep my breathing under control.
I should’ve gotten more details from the empress before I agreed to this.
“Like, right now,” Neb replied with a wink. “Let’s go have some fun.”
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The helicopter pad at the top of the Council Building was already buzzing with activity. Two shiny helicopters with four rotors on top of each caught the sun, their reflective armor so bright I had to shield my eyes. Obviously this mission wasn’t going for stealth.
A dozen tan-clad workers trotted around, loading them with equipment. The other EPIC members stood aside, already dripping with sweat. Was it hotter today, or was I already getting used to the cool underground bunker?
