by Beth Goobie
“Some day,” said Lierin fiercely, staring at her laptop screen, “when I get my full-class agent status, I’m going to ask to be sent to the Outbacks. And when I get there, I’m going to nail every one of those pagans.”
Taking a quick breath, Nellie nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “In honor of the Goddess.”
They were silent a moment, and then Lierin sighed. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s get this finished so we can go to the gym.”
“Yeah,” echoed Nellie, “the gym.” She flipped to the next page in her book, then paused. Something seemed to be shifting inside her brain, as if trying to get out. Get out of what? Annoyed, she gave her head a shake. If this kept up, she was going to have to pay another visit to the Mind Cleanser. “Okay,” she said. “Next, the Goddess ... “
They continued with the assignment.
“WHERE’S MY 99 Badge?” Crowded into the space between her dresser and free-standing closet, Tana glared at Nellie. “I left it right here, next to my brush, and now it’s gone.”
“Dunno,” shrugged Nellie, keeping her eyes fixed on the monitoring screen. A half-eaten package of oolaga candy sat on her stomach and Star Heat was on. Nothing else mattered.
“No one’s been in this room except you,” insisted Tana, her voice rising. “C’mon Kinnan, tell me where you put it.”
“It’s just a stupid badge.” Nellie belched loudly and patted her stomach. “Don’t get so uptight. Probably one of your friends borrowed it. Or Duikstra.”
“Why would Duikstra take it?” demanded Tana.
Nellie could hear her roommate starting to hyperventilate. Sneaking a satisfied grin, she continued to stare at the monitoring screen. She hadn’t taken the badge, but she certainly understood why Tana was upset about losing it. The 99 Badge was one of the most coveted awards an Advanced cadet could earn. Bestowed upon those who’d made ninety-nine maze runs without substantial errors, only a small minority achieved it. Nellie was keeping careful track of her own successful runs and was currently at thirty-eight. Not bad for a twelve-year-old, and it was pretty much a certainty she would earn her own 99 Badge well before she turned sixteen, Tana’s age.
Still, her roommate was justifiably proud of the triangular gold badge she’d been given. She took it everywhere and had the unfortunate habit of frequently misplacing it. One of Advanced’s sharpest thinkers in a maze, Tana seemed to disconnect the main hook-up to her brain as soon as she completed a run. She was always forgetting where she’d left things. As a result, Nellie had to endure some version of this accusation scene at least once a week. Most of the time it was completely unfounded. Unless, of course, she’d gotten really bored and needed the adrenalin rush.
“You never know,” Nellie said silkily. “Maybe it was Duikstra. Maybe she secretly fantasizes about being a sexy 99-Badge-level maze runner.” She gave her roommate a slit-eyed grin. It made her look like a cat and she knew Tana hated it.
Pressing further into the gap between her dresser and closet, her roommate glared furiously. Her green eyes were narrowed, her lips sucked in and her red curly hair fairly radiated from her scalp. “Duikstra wouldn’t take it,” she hissed. “And neither would any of my friends. They know how important it is to me.”
“Well, it wasn’t my friends,” shrugged Nellie. “Lierin’s the only one who can pass the beam and she wouldn’t take your germie little badge.”
“Course not,” Tana said pointedly. “She’s a Temple.”
Nellie sucked in her breath. She had to hand it to Tana — the girl never missed an opportunity to jab in the knife, one of the traits of a functional cadet. Sitting up, Nellie gave her roommate a docile smile. “Did you check under your pillow?”
“Why would I check under my pillow?” Tana snapped.
“Isn’t that where you put it when you go to beddie-bye?” purred Nellie. “So none of your bad dreams can come steal it from you?” Sticking her thumb in her mouth, she turned back to Star Heat.
A loud scrape sounded as Tana shoved furiously at the barricade. Then she swept her arm across the top of Nellie’s dresser, shoving several textbooks to the floor.
“You bitch!” shrieked Nellie, scrambling from her bed.
“It was you!” Tana shrieked back, sweeping the dresser’s surface again with her arm. A hairbrush and tube of toothpaste tumbled to the floor. “You’re nothing but a slimy Cat, Kinnan. All Cats think like the gutter, the stars say so.”
The hoped-for adrenalin hit Nellie full force. Running straight at Tana’s dresser, she rammed it with her shoulder. The dresser rocked back and forth, its high-back mirror swaying dangerously. “The stars never said anything like that!” Nellie bellowed, glaring at her roommate. “They love Cats. Cats are their special children.”
“Cats are guttersnipes,” Tana hissed, leaning toward her. “Thieves. You were born into garbage and toxic waste, Kinnan. No matter how many times you’re reborn, you’ll never be anything but a damn Cat.”
Stars exploded across Nellie’s brain. Backing up, she rammed Tana’s dresser a second time and was rewarded with a satisfying crash as a curling iron and can of hair spray hit the floor. “I’ll be a star,” she shouted, shoving the dresser again and again. No one insulted the Cat caste, no one. “I’m never coming back to be reborn. I’m going to live in the heavens with the Goddess.”
“You, a star?” Taking several steps back, Tana gave a high-pitched titter. “The Goddess would spit on you, Kinnan. Haven’t you heard She’s allergic to cats?”
A scream ignited at the base of Nellie’s brain. Backing up a third time, she climbed onto her bed for extra leverage. Then she launched herself, barreling toward the barricade and leaping onto the top of her dresser. Her hands hit the mirror, breaking it from its hinges and toppling it onto the floor on Tana’s side of the room. Glass shattered, scattering everywhere. As the crash resounded, the fury at the base of Nellie’s brain exploded, surging in a mass of energy through the top of her head. For a second she could see it, a brilliantly condensed star zooming through the air, and then it passed directly into Tana’s chest. Without a sound, the girl crumpled to the floor.
Several feet above Nellie’s head the security alarm went off, but she remained crouched on her dresser, staring at her roommate’s body. Blood trickled from several cuts on Tana’s arms and face, but that was from broken glass and didn’t explain why she was out cold. Was she dead? But how? Nellie hadn’t been within striking distance. Was it possible to kill someone just by being angry at her?
Stupid with fear, Nellie clung to her dresser, not even blinking as Duikstra came rushing through the doorway, followed by two men in Detta uniform. Dropping to his knees beside Tana, one of the men slipped a Flesh Healer from his belt and began running it over her cuts as the other used a small device to scan her body for vital signs. Abruptly the second man nodded at Duikstra and a look of relief crossed the woman’s face. As she saw it, Nellie’s terror collapsed so intensely that she almost blacked out. So Tana wasn’t dead. That meant she would be fine — the Flesh Healer would take care of the cuts. A huge sigh heaved through Nellie and her thoughts began to move again. Well, okay, if it was clear the snot-nosed bitch was going to make it, why didn’t Duikstra turn off the bloody alarm? She was just standing there as if she was on some kind of holiday, and the sound was almost peeling off the top of Nellie’s head. How was anyone supposed to—?
The alarm shut off. In the sudden dense silence Nellie slid, dribbled, half-fainted her way from the dresser to the floor. Never again was she going to get into an argument with her roommate. Never again would she raise her voice. No, she would be as long-suffering and generous as the Goddess, overlooking all snooty bitchy ...
“What happened here?” asked the first man, slipping the Flesh Healer into his belt.
“I dunno.” Still a bit wobbly, Nellie leaned against her dresser. “She was fine, and then she just ... fell over.”
The man glanced pointedly at the broken glass, then back at her.
> “It’s true,” Nellie protested. “I didn’t touch her.” How was she supposed to explain the sensation of rage that had lifted clean and clear from the back of her head, then shot directly toward Tana? And the way Tana had stumbled back as if physically shoved, before crumpling to the floor?
“I saw it happen on the monitor,” Duikstra said crisply, giving the man a meaningful look. “Code 59F. Just leave it.”
The man’s eyebrows went up and he glanced at Nellie. “Gotcha,” he said, then turned back to Tana. “What d’you think?” he asked the other man.
“Her vital signs are steady,” the second man replied. “We’ll take her down to the clinic for observation until she comes to.” Turning to Duikstra, he asked. “Have you got a stretcher?”
With a nod, Duikstra left the room. For a moment the two men and Nellie stood as if in limbo, staring at Tana’s unconscious body, while the alarm beeped faintly overhead. Then Duikstra wheeled a stretcher through the doorway and the men lifted Tana onto it. Still stunned, Nellie walked to the end of the barricade and watched the men roll the stretcher out of the room.
At the last minute, one of the men turned to face her. “Code MK10,” he said, tapping the center of his forehead. “File it.”
Dully Nellie stared at him, her brain on overload and unable to process his command.
“Cabinet fifty-two,” added Duikstra, stepping around him and thrusting her thin face into Nellie’s. “Drawer one, file one. Now.”
Nellie’s eyes glazed, and she stood blinking as filing cabinet fiftytwo surfaced into her mind and the memory of what had happened disappeared into it. Then the usual sinking sensation occurred as the cabinet vanished. When her head cleared, Nellie found herself staring at an empty doorway, alone in her room.
Briefly, Duikstra’s head appeared in the doorway. “Your room is a shambles, cadet,” she snapped. “Five minutes to clean it, or there’ll be a pejorative on your file.”
As the dorm mother’s head withdrew, Nellie turned to look at the room. Duikstra was right — it was a shambles. The barricade had been pushed every which way, and one of the dresser mirrors was lying smashed on the floor. Textbooks, hairbrushes and containers of deodorant were scattered everywhere. What in the name of the Goddess had happened here? Was this one of Lierin’s jokes? Or had Tana suddenly and completely lost track of her senses?
One thing was for certain — no one, but no one, was going to bother explaining it. In Advanced, things just happened, you survived the chaos, cleaned up after it and got on with the next item on the agenda. There was no sense in complaining, it would only bring another pejorative and that would mean missing the next Street Games. And Street Games and maze runs were the only highs in an Advanced cadet’s bewildering and mind-jerking life.
With a hiss, Nellie began picking up objects from the floor.
Five
THEY WERE PREPARING for Street Games. Side by side in a row of chattering female cadets, Nellie and Lierin leaned into the brightly lit mirrors of the Costumes Room, applying eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. The image had to be just right — today’s activities called for them to fade into the crowd on Marnan’s busy streets and they had to look anonymous, like any civilian twelve-year-old.
“All right!” Lierin surveyed her reflection with satisfaction. “Now for the skin-tight, sex-goddess jeans.”
The crowded room radiated excitement. Not only were they about to go above ground and mingle with normal civilian life, it was the thirty-third day of Lulunar, the Goddess’s birthday. Festivities would be taking place everywhere. Following Lierin to a rack of clothing, Nellie flipped through it until she found a hanger with her name attached. It was just as Lierin had predicted — skin-tight, sex-goddess jeans. Eagerly she slid them on, then reached for the silver-spangled T-shirt on the next hanger. A heady dizziness filled her as she pulled the sequined cloth over her head. Cadets weren’t permitted to wear street clothes unless on assignment. Other than that, it was a plain black bodysuit, day in, day out.
“What did I tell you?” crowed Lierin, strutting before the mirror in shorts and a halter top. “Sex goddess, or what?” She stood preening, a smug grin plastered across her face. “I come from the constellation Daina. I am a sex goddess with a comet for a tail, and I’m so gorgeous—”
At the far end of the room the door opened and a piercing blast cut through the giggling chatter. “Listen up, girls,” said Ms. Duikstra in clipped tones, lowering a whistle from her lips. “It’s time to get a move on. Your final briefing starts in the Common Room in five minutes.”
Shooting Lierin a grin, Nellie picked up a black clutch purse that lay on a nearby counter. Then they slipped into the line of girls filing through the doorway and down the hall toward a large meeting area known as the Common Room. As Nellie entered, she saw the boys already seated in several rows of chairs at the front of the room. Heading toward them, she settled beside Phillip, who gave her an exuberant grin. Dressed in a muscle shirt and shorts, he’d layered his hair with sun streaks. A fake stud sat in his nose and he was wearing green contact lenses. Nellie had dyed her hair black and was wearing hazel lenses. It was such a rush — these first minutes in the Common Room after putting on costumes, she thought, twisting to look at everyone. Almost the way she’d imagined it would feel to take erva — everything real but tilted, coming at you from odd angles. Like that weird feeling she got sometimes, when for a brief moment she had no idea who or where she was.
“Attention.” On command, every cadet turned to face Col. Jolsen, who was standing at the front of the room. Head of Black Core Personnel, he was in his mid-forties, a tall barrel-chested man with bristly eyebrows and the cropped hair required of adult males not out on assignment. “All of you have been given your tasks,” he said, scanning the group’s disguises with a keen eye. “Some of you will be doing surveillance, others running distractions, and twelve of you have been selected for the primary tasks.”
A sweet high-pitched thrill ran through Nellie and she settled back into her seat. Selected for the primary tasks. That meant her. A stealthy smile crept across her lips, the kind she figured a full-class agent would wear.
“But no matter what you’re doing,” continued the colonel, clearing his throat, “you’ve all practiced your routines, and your instructors tell me you know them inside-out. Well done, cadets. The Goddess blesses you with Her light.” He gave them the grim quirk of his upper lip the cadets had secretly dubbed “Jolsen In Ecstasy.” “As you know,” he added, “you’ve already been split into ten teams and will be departing in ten separate vans. Take a moment now and check to make sure you have your necessary equipment.”
Opening her purse, Nellie ran a reverent finger over the silver ballpoint pen that lay nestled inside. A-Okay, everything in order, Star Leader Jolsen, she thought silently.
“Of the four teams assigned the primary tasks,” continued Col. Jolsen after a pause, “Team A will go with Lt. Sanders, B with Lt. Neem, C with Lt. Nanji, and D with me. Now before we leave, we will recite the dedication prayer to the Warrior’s Bow.”
In sync with his last words the overhead lights dimmed, and a far-off galaxy appeared on the wall screen behind him. Abruptly the viewfinder zoomed in on the Warrior constellation, focusing on the star that glowed at the tip of the Warrior’s bow.
“We are the followers of the Warrior’s Bow,” began Col. Jolsen, and the cadets took up the short prayer, saying it with him. “We live in the realm of its holy light. Our thoughts, bodies and action shine in its service. We are servant warriors, obedient to our Masters, the Lords of the stars.”
Col. Jolsen held out his right hand, fingers splayed. “We are foot soldiers in the Great War,” he intoned.
“We are foot soldiers in the Great War,” repeated the cadets, extending their right hands.
“All is light to a soldier of light,” said Col. Jolsen.
“All is light to a soldier of light,” repeated the cadets.
“And all is dark to the
Dark,” shouted Col. Jolsen, closing his right hand into a fist and jamming it upward.
“All is dark to the Dark,” the cadets cried in unison, repeating the gesture.
The overhead lights came back on and the wall screen dimmed. Taking a deep breath, the colonel leaned forward. “Out onto the streets,” he ordered, pointing to the door. “Take the light of the great Warrior out into the Dark!”
Surging to her feet, Nellie joined the cadets streaming toward the door. Her heart was thundering and the blood singing through her brain. How she loved the pre-Street Games warm-ups, chanting the ancient prayers and feeling the hearts of the other cadets beating in rhythm with her own. As they ran along the hall toward the complex’s main garage, she lifted her fist with the others, chanting, “Ride the light! Ride the light!” Feet pounded the floor and voices ricocheted off the walls, making the group seem twice its size. Louder and louder they shouted, ramming their fists into the air. At the door leading into the garage, there was the inevitable drop in energy as they split into their predetermined teams, each following its leader across the vast cement floor toward one of ten unmarked vans. Tucked behind Lierin, Nellie trotted at the tail end of her team, fighting the anticlimax by pumping her breathing in the required war-beat rhythm. When she reached her group’s van, she ran on the spot to keep focused while Lt. Sanders slid open the side door. Every second counted, everything a foot soldier did — the way she breathed, the rhythm in which she let her feet touch the ground, even the thoughts she let run through her brain — was an essential part of the preparation for war. Today’s activities might be called games, but all was light to a soldier of light, every second on the Outside an important moment in the great ongoing war against the Dark.
