Dove Arising (18 page)

20

OVER THE NEXT HOUR, I PIECE TOGETHER what happened from stray slivers of sentences. Team One and Team Four were racing nose and nose toward the hangar, pursued by “Batterer” ships, when Team One’s pilot tried some complicated maneuver he’d “read about” and lost control of his craft. The ship slammed into the air lock gate. Four team members will spend the week in the Medical quarters.

The fifth, Vinasa Epsilon, was assigned to left wingtip. The impact threw her onto her weapons controls, breaking her ribs and stopping her heart.

Nash crushes me in a cinnamon-scented hug. I’m aching from my grief, but hers must be crippling. I’ve only known Vinasa for six weeks. I never explored the landscape of her mind, as I have Umbriel’s, and I didn’t learn everything that existed behind her biting pleasant humor, the golden backlit glow in her eyes, her appreciation for things long gone by. Compared to Vinasa’s lifelong companions, Nash and Eri, whose faces are distorted in misery, do I deserve to feel this devastation? Compared with them, I lost only the promise of a friend.

We read our new rankings, unable to keep from thinking,
It could have been me.
One mistake during that evaluation, and any of us could have been in Vinasa’s place.

I’m ranked second, one place behind Wes and one in front of Orion, and Nash has moved up to sixteenth; I feel no joy. Jupiter has risen to fourth, while Callisto dropped into the twenties; I feel no satisfaction.

The instructors should have expelled Callisto for her friendly fire stunt, just like they should have expelled Jupiter for stabbing Wes. I need to find out what’s going on—why both Callisto and Jupiter are still around.

I disappear behind the climbing wall, where, on the first day, I swapped my civilian clothes for Beetle black. How much has changed since then?

CALLISTO CHI,
I type into my handscreen.

Unlike Jupiter, she doesn’t have any policy infractions listed. Her father, now deceased, worked in Financial. Her mother’s occupation, like that of Jupiter’s father, is “Not Applicable.” Neither the amount of money in her bank account nor her apartment number in the Chi complex is accessible. Frustrated, I close her profile.

She’s as sinister in the intra-base network as she is in the flesh.

At night, I run endless laps around the Medical quarters until my mind is numb and my system is full of endorphins. Running is cheap, a temporary barrier to unwanted feelings.

Afterward, I creep through the silent halls, knowing I have stayed out past curfew.

A tiny squeak reaches my ears; my heart thumps in my rib cage, deep and hollow. I crouch, listening hard. Human hissing ensues. In these echoing halls, I can’t tell where it’s coming from.

I fight down trepidation, which persists even after the hissing stops. Maybe there’s nothing.

“Hey, little Stripes.” A smiling Callisto steps out of a doorway. “Let’s talk.”

Dim light from the hall catches her curls, which puff out around her head like polyester pillow stuffing.

Jupiter swaggers over to her. He tosses an arm around her shoulders, and she leans inward, her face a mask of romantic satisfaction.

“I’m so, so sorry about Vinasa. You were friends with her, yeah?”

I look at Callisto without even a nod; I don’t want to discuss this topic, and judging by Callisto’s saccharine tone, she doesn’t care.

“Well, it’s really sad, what happened. But it’s a sign that we trainees need to work together better—you and Jupe have sure had a few misunderstandings, hmm?”

Jupiter nods. I don’t. I rest my left hand on my right shoulder, adopting a posture that ensures my handscreen will pick up everything she says.

Callisto simpers, licking her lips. “What I really mean is, let’s forget all that and talk about Kappa. Jupe heard him muttering in his sleep—something about keeping you in line—oh? You think he’s playing fair? He wouldn’t let you get what he’s wanted forever, now, would he?”

Alarmed, I listen harder.

“Sweetie, you’re fifteen. Too young to tell a backstabber when you see one. We went to Primary with Kappa. There’s a reason he never had any friends. How’s this: we protect you from anything he tries to pull.”

It sounds too abrupt to be true, especially after a 180-degree turnaround on Jupiter’s part. I cross my arms and make my most affected, superior face at them, though objectively it’s neither affected nor superior.

“As payment, you help us place first and second. You can be third—it’s higher than anyone expects of a little kid, anyway.”

For grits’ sake, they think I’m a child who can’t recognize blatant ambition when she sees it. “No thanks.”

Callisto disentangles herself from Jupiter, removing his limbs from her body while gazing intently into my eyes. “Oh?”

I shake my head to restate my point.

“Aw, she’s rank-hungry too. What a pity.”

She’s right. I want to prove that Jupiter’s initial wariness of me was warranted. “Pity,” I agree.

“Well . . .” Callisto looks to Jupiter for a nod of approval. She gets it. “Why don’t we tell Yinha and Arcturus what’s going on with your mom? We’ll throw in the rest of the trainees for good measure, hmm? Actually, we could say it right now, with everyone’s handscreen uncovered—”

“No!”

How in the universe do they know about Mom?
I dare not ask.

Jupiter and Callisto want to place high at any cost. If I teamed up with them, I’d be easier to sabotage; they could ensure that I placed much, much lower than third.

“I still say no,” I tell them.

“What a pity,” Callisto repeats. She nods to Jupiter. In the darkness, I see a flash of silver.

An instant later, something chilly runs down my thigh, and Jupiter holds a bloodied knife half as long as his arm.

I thought bleeding was supposed to feel warm, at least as warm as the stinky arm around my neck and the anger festering in my stomach. I consider screaming for someone, anyone, but I can’t even inhale. In less than two minutes asphyxiation will knock me out, and the stars only know what these two will do to me before someone picks up my handscreen readings and comes to help.

“So quiet,” Callisto muses, pacing. “Not fit to be a leader in the Militia. Don’t you have friends to run to? Ah, of course not. You think you’re too good to even talk to people here.”

Jupiter puts a hand over my mouth, just in case. I try to kick and squirm. He needn’t worry. He’s twice my mass and, unlike me, has access to oxygen.

“Oh, right.” Callisto pats my cheek, sneering. “You can’t run.”

The chill invades my other leg; I sway back and forth. Their shapes grow blurry, lose their definite edges. I could give up. I could slip under, let the pain stop, and never know what they’ll do to me next.

Stop it!
Wes’s voice in my head says, the way he sounds when I’ve made a dumb sparring maneuver. Thinking of him reminds me that I’m cleverer than this. I clamp my canines onto Jupiter’s hand, which snaps back. His curses echo around us as I elbow myself free. Blurriness recedes from my eyes and brain as I gulp for air, trying to find a way to defend myself against their long knives.

I have short knives; they will have to do.

I crumple to a sitting position on the floor and make stupid sobbing noises into my knees, screaming intermittently with all the breath in my lungs. To assess the damage, I brush my hands along my legs and find a sticky gash, deep into the muscle, trailing up each thigh. I’d better end this quickly. My fingers find their way into my boot and pull out one of my daggers, fiddling with it until I hold the hilt in my fist and slip the blade into my sleeve.

“Get up.” Callisto yanks me up by my hair, and Jupiter reestablishes his death grip around my neck.

If I survive this, I’d like to slap her, something I’ve never done to anyone in my whole life.

But first I need to escape this choke hold—again.

Jupiter is about thirty centimeters taller than me, but he’s slouching, so I should aim approximately twelve centimeters above my head. My right hand reaches up behind me and smacks the hilt of the dagger into the joint where his jaw connects with his cheek. His mandible slides leftward with a
crack
. He collapses without even a whimper.

If Wes were here, he’d be pleased with my use of his sneaky trick for knocking people out. Moving the mandible triggers the cranial nerve and causes immediate unconsciousness.

But one major concern remains, and she’s furious.

“You
fusing
piece of
grit
!” Callisto pulls out another long knife.

With the dagger, I block her first blow, an obvious one at my chest. But if I can’t move my legs without losing even more blood, I can’t keep fighting. Leaning against a wall to stay upright isn’t proper sparring technique.

Callisto rains blows onto my body, managing to slash my upper left arm. It goes cold as the blood flows free.

This is the end of my time as a trainee. If she manages to take off a limb, I’ll be unable to pay for a reattachment operation or a prosthetic. I’ll become a cripple, leaching off society, and my siblings will have nothing, not even a mother.

Callisto slashes my left shoulder, cutting even deeper.

Soft white light approaches us in the hallway. Is the sun coming up already, or are my senses disintegrating?

“What is this mess?”

I never thought I’d be so glad to hear Yinha’s voice.

Everyone stops moving. Yinha’s narrowed eyes take in Jupiter’s limp form, the puddles of blood at my feet, and the long knives of my assailants. Jupiter begins to stir.

“Two against one—and against the youngest trainee I’ve ever seen? I thought we taught you to fight fair—or at least not to steal scimitars from weapons storage.”

With her here, I let myself dissolve into a bloody pile on the floor.

“Hang in there.” Yinha kneels, takes off her jacket, and ties the sleeve so tightly around my arm that it no longer feels hot or cold—just
numb
. She types something onto her handscreen. “Someone from Medical is coming to help.”

Callisto pleads in a nasal, high voice, “Captain, we can explain everything.”

“Good. Now if you’ll answer a few questions for me . . .” Yinha rises up and pokes her handscreen until it shows Callisto’s and Jupiter’s heart rates, hormone levels, and vocal quality. She hands them each a pair of glasses that will track pupil size and eye movement. I sit straighter so I can see Yinha’s handscreen from behind.

“Put the glasses on, Jupiter. No, not that low—on the bridge of your nose! How did Phaet sustain her injuries?”

“She attacked us,” says Callisto. “We were so scared . . . after curfew and all. . . .”

“She pulled a knife,” Jupiter adds.

I’d object to every word, but there’s no need. Yinha’s handscreen shows that their pupils are dilating and their eyes shifty.

“Okay,” says Yinha, unconvinced. “Why’d I hear Phaet’s voice instead of either of yours?”

“She was trying to get sympathy.” Callisto stands motionless, though her heart rate is on the rise. “You don’t understand how tricky this little girl is.”

Jupiter’s cortisol level approaches a peak. “She’s going to come after the other trainees next. I know it.”

“Enough.” Yinha snatches the eye-monitoring glasses from their faces. “I’m reporting you both based on conclusive evidence that you attacked another trainee.” She gestures at the blood on the floor. “I do in fact have eyes.”

Callisto sneers, dropping the innocent façade at last. “Yeah, and we can never tell when they’re open.”

Yinha and I stiffen at the attack on our shared Chinese ancestry.

“You can’t hurt us,
Captain
. Jupiter’s dad, the Base IV Militia
general
”—Callisto pauses for emphasis—“will get rid of you before you’ve opened your mouth to report me. And so could my mom, you know, on the Standing Committee.”

Yinha flexes her narrow jaw, speechless. Jupiter’s father runs the Base IV Militia; Callisto is the daughter of Base IV representative Andromeda Chi. These must be unspoken “secrets” among the instructors. That’s why Yinha didn’t expel Jupiter and his cronies after the knife slashing, the friendly fire, the failed ambushes—why she deducted points from their evaluations in tiny amounts and why Arcturus ignored their transgressions. It’s why they had so many points to begin with. Callisto and Jupiter control Yinha as much as she does them.