The aches I had contracted from Jeree's punches were mostly healed. I should expect more clashes now, though my principle was still to avoid a fight whenever possible. I didn't like getting hit, definitely didn't like the recovery after.

I was getting used to the formula of waking before the sixth hour and heading out to join the queue for the tube. I, sometimes, found Hstrad still dozing on his bed while at other times he was gone before I woke.

An added benefit to rousing early was being able to get food from the kitchen and still having time to wait around for Pilot Irek and his tube. At the Weisinger's, Treiya’s stares became more painful. We—Ozana, Hstrad and I—decided on wearing the recorders to stave off suspicion even though we knew they knew we knew. Hence, it became a long game of pretend. I could not start making the helix on the second dawn. With the recorder incident, I was sure more eyes were on me at every time. But hey, I am the Panner. If I was right about being the only Panner at the Weisinger's, then I definitely had the edge. That second dawn, I was almost done with modeling a full travel pod. Treiya had requested that I transfer the models to another Engineer, Saibgil, who would fashion the interiors of the pod.

Third dawn and I had still not begun with the helix. It was virtually impossible. Treiya planned her break time to coincide with mine. So the period when I'd retreated to the back bench to have my alone time was spent with Treiya beside me, a mutual hatred baring between us.

A sure recourse during my dawns as an advanced student was Panner Denaeyetus, a war Panner, who lived several thousand stars ago. He had written something that basically amounted to: One achieves adequately when the enemy is most confused.

I wasn't about to discount this ancient Panner's experience. There was a reason why he was a recommended study.

My fourth dawn working there, while assisting Saibgil with measurements for the pod, I thought up, I’d hoped, a foolproof plan. And was going to implement it that very dusk. When I was done with Saibgil, I went to my machine picked up a nugget and flattened out a rod for the helix. I did not bother to hide it, it looked like any other piece of metal sitting around my machine anyway. I took my meal break at my custom bench and waited for Treiya and her one-part hair—yeah I hated her hair—to join me.

She did not need to initiate conversation, I took a piece out of my meal and said, “Did you know travel pods were originally the idea of Sillantris Breakdawn, daughter of President Breakdawn?”

“Hmm… Tell me,” she faked her enthusiasm.

“He had his daughter killed with poison and stole her idea. Then, he added a flap to her design and claimed it helps with lift.” I grunted. “He was right, you know. The flap is important on a travel pod. I guess it feels so wrong that he was right. After killing her and all that.”

“Sad story.” Treiya crunched her food foil. “Get up. Let's get back to work. There's still plenty to be done.”

“Of course.” I put one of my fake tutor smiles into practice.

The end of the hefty dawn was near. In fact, Bujo had an iron in his hand as he chatted with Treiya and would beat it any time soon.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

We dropped our work and waited in a file. Bujo went to turn the lever responsible for parting the doors. He turned it, but the doors did not budge. I heard the tube outside already squeaking in delight to be united with the facility. Treiya always stood behind me, ready to catch me in the middle of something dubious. I heard the levers turn again, and again, and again. Bujo could not get the doors open. The tube outside clinked in with the door.

“Treiya, please come with me,” he whispered to Treiya who was behind me. She went on with him, I guess, to solve the door issue. Of course, I was the cause. Weisinger's or not, parting doors were made with the same kind of gears. And I knew enough of those gears to physicalize something just enough to jam them. The doors would not retract into the walls, as my constructs were already inside those walls. I did not need to see my constructs to form them. I was already picking up murmurs and perplexed eyes. Bujo came around to collect another Engineer from our little crowd to the control room. While they discussed fruitlessly, I rehashed the next phase of my plan.

A lift was used to get to the storage room, the first level, of the Weisinger's. The usual stairs-and-a-door would not work as the full bodies of travel pods were made down here on the second level. Only that lift was large enough to carry the models up and to access that lift… well, another lever was needed. I had never been to the first level—Treiya would not let me— but it made sense that the stored models of the travel pods and baskets were transferred to the Area Zed terminal through their own parting door.

And yes, another lever.

I waited for the drama to finish in the control room. Treiya stepped out heavy-footed, gave me the evillest eye I had ever known and cleared her throat to speak.

“We have a problem with this door,” she said. “But no worries, I have contacted Pilot Irek. He would eject the tube to the door on the first level. So let's be orderly as we take the lift up to wait. The door here will be fixed very soon.”

As I marched with the Engineers to the lift, Treiya imposed herself beside me and maintained a scornful vigilance over me. Bujo turned the lever of the lift and quickly joined us before it crawled its way up.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

This one did not jam thankfully.

The first level was barely lit; I could not make out plenty. Travel basket slates were piled on shelves close to the door, one on top of the other. Travel pod models were packed behind them, other paraphernalia followed, relief maps, screens, even slivers of foil. It was a contiguous storage. We could not queue at the front, so we stayed by the side. I did not see Bujo go to turn the levers but I heard the thump. The doors parted with an ease. I heard the tube coming. It was time to execute the messy part of the plan. The iron slates of the travel baskets needed just a little encouragement for that sort of confusion that War Panner Denaeyetus spoke about. Hand movements were always needed for Pyrancy, most Pyrancy at least. So, it was especially difficult to jerk my wrist a tad to give one of those slates a little nudge given the inconvenience of Treiya beside me. The first slate came tumbling down hard. It pulsed the facility with a thrumming life, rolled past the door and fell over, into the depths of the abyss. One slate down and the next dared to follow. I thrust out a hand and shielded door with a construct.

“What have you done?” Treiya grabbed me by the shoulder.

“Remain calm. I am a Panner!” I shouted as I writhed myself out of her grip.

The shelves holding the rest collapsed and the slates scattered and clattered about in a crazing to crush whatever stood in their paths. I materialised a translucent wall and covered the Engineers with it, pinning them to the side as a result. My construct was still over the door and it prevented the tube from connecting. I could also feel the push of the slates on my constructs, weighing in on them.

Treiya was banging on the wall I had put over her like she was insane. “Let us out! Let me out, Fran!” Her sound was muffled because of the wall.

“It's not safe yet. You may be harmed.” As I spoke I crashed the shelves holding up the travel pod models, subtly of course. Another chaos erupted.

“See!” I screamed back. “It's not safe yet.”

Some furls of silver foil rolled onto the lift.

“I'll confirm if everything is alright on the second level! Stay put!”

“No! Let us out!”

“When it's safe!” I turned the lever of the lift. It moved too slowly, so I did not wait for it hit the ground before I jumped off. I limped my way to my forging machine, adjusted it to the helical measurements Ozana had given and forged. I could still here Treiya screaming, and she sure could scream! I made some noise with my Pyrancy using one hand and formed the coils of the helix with the other. I swallowed the helix dreading the future where I would have to make myself puke in order to retrieve it. I got back on the lift and undid the translucent wall over the Engineers. Treiya bounced towards me, with unprecedented rage and curled fists. I knew she was going to punch me and contemplated putting something over my face. I decided against it and so took the full power of her fist. It sent me back. I was pretty certain that I had broken my lip.

“Search him,” she ordered.

“I was doing my duty as a Panner,” I said as Bujo put his hand all over me.

“Check his boots.”

Bujo searched there only to find nothing. I smiled at all the wrong times.

I carried my weary self to the food hall. I needed something to eat if I wanted to force a vomit. Bujo and Treiya had gone in the direction of Aaxel’s station to probably give a full report of all that had happened.

As I entered the food hall, I heard cheering. I thought it was another game of Grants but I was so wrong. It was a sparring, no Pyrancy, no rigamarole, just fists. Pilot-Serjeant Dolony would never allow this. All the tables were pushed aside and a ring of people had formed around the two combatants. I creeped my way through the crowd to get a foil of food from the counter. I was interested in the match; I climbed a table to watch and ate as I did. I recognised one of the fighters. The Lata lady that had taken us to Headquarters when we first arrived, and a man I did not recognize. He lurched at her with a jab. She dodged and delivered a blow to his knee but he shrugged it off, kicking her away. Persons in the crowd helped her up and pushed her back into the ring. She threw a punch and connected. He stumbled and hit back.

“Do you want to spar?” I hadn't seen Zord sneak up beside me. He climbed the table and asked again. “Do you want to spar?”

I shook my head. Apart from the still stinging blow I had received from Treiya, it was my principle to avoid a fight whenever possible. Perhaps Mubbers would have taken up Zord’s offer. I heard a cheer and turned to see a defeated Lata lifted up by the man and slammed against a nearby table. Another cheer filled the hall.

“That's Lata and that's Vraj. If Pyrancy were allowed, Lata would have smothered him. Vraj is not a Pyrant,” Zord said, excited about the scene.

“She’s a Panner?”

“No, a Pilot.”

“A Pilot who can fight?”

“There are many Pilots who can fight.” He spoke like it was the norm for Pilots to fight.

“I guess so.” I jumped down from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“I had one of the most stressful dawns. I need to unwind,” I said. The next two combatants were already sizing up, ready to apply violence.

“I'll escort you to your section,” Zord clambered down and walked over to me.

“If you want to.” They had probably set him over me. It was purposeless. I wouldn’t say anything implicating. As we stepped out, I asked him, “Were you born here?”

“None of us are born here.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“We are sent out just like every other delegate.” He was being as dodgy as me.

“What of you? Where were you born?” He asked.

“Terminal N2,” I lied. “Born and bred.”

We walked in silence for a time.

“I was born in a dead terminal,” he eventually admitted.

I observed a ritual pause and said, “Dead terminals must be a quandary to run.”

“You wouldn't comprehend,” he said softly.

“Dimdusk, Zord.”

“Dimdusk, Fran.”

Hstrad was sound asleep. I stripped and went into the Waste Room ready to remove the helix trapped in my stomach. I constructed a small rod and stuck it deep inside my throat. I retched but did not puke. I tried again and failed. I made the construct longer so that I almost choked myself. Still yet, nothing. I decided to try the other outlet. I removed my undergarb and sat on the Waste duct, waiting for hours. I dozed off once or twice and when I felt the movement in my bowels, I jolted awake. As my Waste slipped out into the duct, I put my hands between my legs and extracted it fully. I felt for the helix and was relieved when I could identify it from among the Waste. I chucked the remainder of the Waste into the duct, cleaned up with a Blackstone and went to bed.