17 - A wind of storm

The Syndicate Cartel can’t be ignored. They are ruthless criminals who will crush millions of lives, mages and mundanes alike, in their pursuit of power.

By using magic against the innocent for petty gain, they’ll also hurt our Cause.

The Agency is unable to deal with them. The Hidden Schools are unwilling.

So, once again, the duty of wielding the sword of justice falls to us.

* Internal communication of the Faceless Army

“Great news!” Kaelich says, beaming, as he storms into our bunk room to interrupt my peaceful reading and Sorivel’s meditation. “We can train with Althea today! Like, she can use magic!”

I look at xem. “So, you obtained an authorization from Sareas? Or the Captain? Did they give you a hard time about it?”

Althea scoffs. “As if. Our great leader is still spineless. But I read the regulations, and found out that as my handler, xe can sign me an authorization to use magic in the shooting range - so, I can smash a few dummies, but we still need an officer’s signature to practice any meaningful tactics.”

Kaelich shrugs. “But we can shoot stuff together! I love shooting stuff! Let’s go, team. Mandatory training time!”

We’re technically off duty, so xe can’t order us anything, and while I’m perfectly willing to train, Kaelich’s poor grasp of proper procedure is grating. But when I point out that kind of thing, Kaelich shrugs and immediately forgets about it, and Sorivel looks at me like I just kicked a puppy, so I just shut up, put on my shoes and follow the others.

At least the firing range is one of the few facilities in Rakavdon Base that isn’t falling to pieces. It’s a bare, damp concrete room underground, with a line of firing positions and a long corridor where targets can be set up and moved.

“We’re overdue for some accuracy training,” Kaelich says. “Sori, can you set up some target drones for us?”

Sorivel nods, closes his eyes, and after a few seconds, six small quad-copters drones take off at the far end of the range, moving erratically. A round target hangs below each drone, about as large as a human head, with a smaller, thumb-sized red circle in the middle.

I stifle a sigh. I’m not fond of practice shooting - I’m not very good at it, and it feels pointless. I’m the Blademaster in this team, I’m supposed to close distance with the enemy in pretty much any possible scenario. But I do carry a gun, and I’m supposed to know how to use it properly.

“Let’s make a game of it!” Kaelich says. Xe’s obviously enthusiastic - so far, we mostly trained with coordination and team maneuvers, so I haven’t seen xem practice xir shooting, but I know from what Quicksilver told me xe’s good at it.

“A game, Corporal?” I ask. “Training is a serious issue.”

“Hit more targets than I do, and you’ll get to lecture me on seriousness,” Kaelich answers, and there’s the barest hint of an edge to xir voice. “Anyway! We used to do this in my old base - we shoot in turn, and for every bull’s eye, we get to ask someone a personal question.”

“That’s stupid,” Althea says, “I’m in.”

Sorivel shakes his head. “This is a form of betting, and betting is sinful,” he says. “I’ll pass.”

“No shit, your aim is so bad, you couldn’t hit a wall firing point blank,” Kaelich says. Then xe looks at me, expectant.

Asking personal questions for each bull’s eye. This is unprofessional in the extreme. And I always disliked this kind of things - we had plenty such games in basic training, and I felt pressured to join. But when I did, they always felt like it was only an excuse to laugh at me - the distant, haughty trainee who didn’t like sharing her personal life.

Except… Kaelich wouldn’t see it that way. Xe’s a gossip lover, but xe doesn’t have a mean bone in xir body. Sorivel opted out, but he calls us sinful all the time, and he doesn’t seem to actually mind. And it would be ridiculous to worry about sharing personal information with Althea, at this point. Actually, I’d be curious to ask her some questions.

“I’d be willing to play, in principle,” I say, “but as our rifleman, you’re at an obvious advantage. You’re better trained, and your rifle is more accurate than my handgun. And what about Althea? Does she even need to aim, with her powers?”

Althea nods. “Ceri’s right. You’re at an advantage, Kaelich. As for me, of course I wouldn’t miss if I Pushed the targets directly, but that would be a pointless exercise. I’ll try to hit the targets by Juggling a bunch of empty cartridges - that’s closer to the way I’d fight an enemy mage, since I can’t push against magical defenses, but I can hurl objects at them.”

“You’re both cowards,” Kaelich says, “but fiiine. You’ll shoot fixed targets at half distance, I’ll shoot moving targets at full distance, how do you like that?”

I look at the half-distance mark, a yellow line cutting across the corridor. Kaelich’s terms are generous - hitting moving targets is really hard, and I’m decently confident I can get one or two bull’s eyes on fixed ones at this distance. I guess Kaelich doesn’t mind answering more questions than xe’d ask.

“Done,” Althea says. “You go first, fearless leader.”

“I’ll make it as hard as possible,” Sorivel says, in a long-suffering tone, “but you didn’t strike a very good deal, girls.”

Kaelich wears xir earmuffs, takes xir place at the shooting line, and fiddles with xir rifle for a while.

Sorivel frowns in concentration, and the six drones start buzzing like angry bees, flying in six different directions, changing speed and height all the time. I don’t know much about drones, but I suspect this is a pretty impressive display of his own skill.

Kaelich takes a deep breath, the smile fades from xir lips, replaced with a moment of sharp focus, and then xe shoots. Six shots in rapid succession, so quick the noise blurs together.

All the drones freeze, with green lights blinking. The fucker hit them all, and three of the targets have holes within the smaller red circle.

“Woah! I’m amazing!” Kaelich says, sounding honestly surprised.

“Six out of six for Kaelich, three perfect hits,” Sorivel calls. He doesn’t even sound that surprised.

My jaw goes slack, and I remember Quicksilver’s words - first percentile for accuracy.

“Tell me there’s some kind of cheating,” Althea says, “were you helping xem, Sori?”

“Helping xem would be sinful and unfair,” Sorivel grumbles. “Also, there’s really no need. Kael is freakishly good. At some point xe traded his brain for an aimbot.”

“I don’t use aimbots!” Kaelich says, amused, “the Stemlink ones aren’t really good, yet. And for gaming, they’re unfair. That’s how I started out, you know? I meant to become a sim gaming pro. I was pretty good, but I tried to join a team, and everyone said I was so bad at strategy, I had no hope.”

“Well, you are good with a gun,” Althea says, with the tone of a judge giving the final sentence. “That’s kind of hot.”

I feel a stab of jealousy, but she gives me a sly smile, and I remind myself that I’m an adult, who won’t be distracted by such frivolities while training, and anyway we haven’t agreed to an exclusive relationship. Or… to any kind of relationship, really. The conversation in the hot pool became side-tracked.

“Wait,” I say, as I process the rest of what Kaelich said. “You joined ThauCon because you were considered too strategically inept for videogames?”

“Not because of that,” xe says, “I believe in the mission and shit, you know. Really. But yeah, I’d make tons of money playing games, if I had the brain for strategy. Also, it’s my turn to ask personal questions, you know.”

“Fair,” Althea says. “But shame on Sorivel. He should have warned us that you’re impossibly skilled, instead of making religious excuses.”

“They’re not excuses,” Sorivel says, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Betting games are morally dubious. And yes, I could have warned you that Kaelich always wins. But this way, I get to hear you answer xir stupid questions.”

“And isn’t that sinful?” Althea asks. “You’re indulging your curiosity while keeping the moral high ground.”

For a moment, I fear they’ll get into an argument, but Althea is smiling widely, and if anything, Sorivel looks slightly ashamed.

“Well,” he says, “I guess I’ll do some extra penance at the Officer’s Temple while reflecting on my poor moral behavior. So make it worth my while, Kaelich. Ask your three questions.”

Kaelich grins.

“Number one is obvious. I’m asking Cerical, because that makes it funnier. Did you and Althea fuck already?”

Well, I should have seen that coming. A blush starts working its way up my neck. I’ve learned how to stifle my blushing reflex, if I really need it, but after all, why should I? Let my teammates have their laugh, it’s harmless enough.

“Well,” I say, “technically, it depends on your exact definition of…”

Althea winces. “We made out. In the pool. Enthusiastically,” she adds. Kaelich gives her a double thumbs-up.

“Hey, it was my question,” I say. I’m a little relieved that she answered in my place, but I don’t need her to protect me from some mild embarrassment.

“Sorry, Ceri,” Altha says, “I don’t think I could stand you and Kaelich discussing the requirements for something to qualify as sex.”

“I’ll still count it as an answer for Ceri,” Kaelich says. “And while you didn’t technically bet because it’s sinful, you still lost our bet on them, Sorivel.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Well, given the terms of our prediction,” Sorivel says, “it depends on the exact nature of… wait, know what, you’ve won.”

Sorivel’s skin is very dark, but I spot some rosy color on his cheeks. Interesting. Sorivel might have lived in Landfall for a long time, but he is quite easily embarrassed, I’m learning.

I’m surprised how at ease I feel while they talk about Althea and I. Of course it’s not the first time I get dragged into a conversation about my sex life. The gossip in any military base is limited by nature, and soldiers are annoyingly juvenile. But it’s the first time I don’t feel awkward about it. Or, more accurately, I feel awkward in an intended way - like a blade bending, but within expected parameters. It feels right.

“Question two,” Kaelich says. “For Althea. What would happen if I tried to eat one of those green cubes you make?”

I look at Kaelich, uncomprehending, before realizing xe’s wondering about eating Else-Glass. Sorivel facepalms, and Althea bursts into raucous laughter.

“Does that even count as a personal question,” I mumble. This game barely has rules, and still my teammates can’t follow them.

“I can’t believe you’re asking this,” Althea says. She tries to talk, then she has another sniggering fit. “But I’m just as bad, because I know the answer, since I tried licking Else-Glass, once. As long as it’s stable, it has no taste, and feels like ice. It burns and freezes at the same time, but it won’t hurt. So, you could hold one of my Else-glass modules in your mouth without much risk. Swallowing it, however, would be an exceptionally bad idea, because when I dismiss the cube, it collapses into Else-Fire, so it would cut and burn your insides. Unless it made its way through your digestive system, which I honestly have no idea if is possible.”

Kaelich nods, looking happy. “See? I’m not stupid. I asked before trying it.”

“You have one more question,” Sorivel says, resigned, “let’s get done with that.”

Kaelich looks at me, then Althea.

“Uhm,” xe says. “Sori is too boring to play, so I’ll ask Ceri one more question.”

Lady of Pain, I hope xe won’t ask about my past relationships, those are embarrassing memories.

“You got sent here because of an essay, right?” Xe asks. “What was in it?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. This is not the kind of question I expected, and the others seem just as surprised.

“Well, it’s definitely personal, so it qualifies,” I concede.

I remember I was worried to talk about this - I feared it might make my teammates question my loyalty. But that concern looks foolish now. I doubt Kaelich will care, and neither Sorivel nor Althea strike me as hardliners.

“We were supposed to analyze a major ThauCon operation, discussing its effectiveness and what lessons could be drawn from it,” I say. “Most of my colleagues picked the storming of the Emerald Maze, or the campaigns against the Faceless Terror, or the Black Liar’s defeat in Kalester. I thought analyzing a successful campaign would be less useful than a failed one. So I discussed Major Orner’s handling of the early Zelenian Revolt.”

Kaelich frowns - I doubt xe knows the fine details of the war. But Sorivel looks incredulous.

“Wait,” he says, “Isn’t that the Intelligence guy who sent you here? You… wrote an Essay against one of your mentors?”

“It wasn’t against him,” I say. “It just… well, it discussed the many strategical, operational and political failures that ultimately led to the larger Zelenian Uprising. Which, I admit, wasn’t very smart of me.”

“Damn, your essay burned him so bad, he had you kicked?” Althea says. “Now I want to read it. No, wait, not really, I’m sure it’s incredibly boring.”

“I… also questioned the overall priorities of the Agency,” I admit. This wasn’t Kaelich’s question, but now that I’m talking, I might as well spit it all out. “And whether the Agency’s focus on finding rogue mages, instead of dealing with the hidden factions directly, should be reconsidered.”

Now Kaelich whistles.

“Woah,” xe says, cheerful. “You attacked the Agency’s main priorities while insulting a Major directly above you? I’m amazed you got sent here instead of, like, to jail! And here I thought fucking my captain was a bad idea!”

“They had asked for well-reasoned criticism and high-level thinking,” I say, incensed. “They could have added actually, we mean you should lick the major’s boot in the footnotes, and I’d have complied with that.”

“I suspect that one goes without saying in the military,” Althea says.

“Well, I’m not good with things that go without saying,” I snap. “Now, give me something to shoot, Sorivel.”

Althea raises her hands. “Hey, I’m not judging you,” she says. “That was kind of amazing. And we do need a change of approach, if we are to mend the sky.”

She looks straight into my eyes, with that incredible intensity she has sometimes, and my knees become a little weak.

“Drones up,” Sorivel says, and the buzzing drones come back with six fresh targets. They hold them stationary at the half-distance mark - a little more than ten meters. Not a difficult shot, in theory. But I’ve been remiss in training with the handgun, and I feel the pressure of competing with Kaelich’s ridiculous skill.

I wear my earmuff - they’re an unpleasant distraction, I should have brought my helmet. I check the gun, slide in the magazine, and take a deep breath.

My first shot strikes the target, but misses the bull’s eye. Annoyed, I shoot the second round without proper preparation, and it goes wide.

“Go, Ceri!” Kaelich says, xir enthusiasm jarring after my dismal results. “You can’t do worse than Sorivel! Really, he’s embarrassing. After watching him shoot, I understand why he prays all the time.”

I smile, despite myself, and some taut muscles relax in my shoulder. Really, what should I worry about? Competing with Kaelich is hopeless, and xe doesn’t care about winning - xe only wants to have fun.

Shoot, breathe, shoot. I fire my four remaining bullets, and only in the end I check my results.

“Four hits,” Sorivel says. “One bull’s eye.”

“Not bad!” Kaelich says. “But, err, we should get a little better if we want to get selected for heavy, or specialist corps.”

“You say we, as if you were part of the problem,” I point out.

“I am,” xe says, quickly. “I mean, I think I could get any marksman qualification easily. But for a specialist team, I should improve my own blade skills. And team tactics. Anyway, enough with the boring stuff. Shoot your question!”

I look at Althea, who wears a sly smile. My first instinct is to ask her something. Old relationships? Something about her own fall for grace?

But in Intelligence, they told us to give priority to unexpected assets. I’m sort-of-in-a-relationship with Althea, and she’s talkative. Should I ask Kaelich a question?

It seems foolish. Kaelich is all too happy to talk about xir relationships, sexual preferences, embarrassing childhood memories and amusing fuckups. So what could I ask xem?

“Question for Kaelich,” I say. “Why are you agender? I mean, we don’t really do that in Zelenia, honestly. But in movies, agender people usually look…”

I scramble for the right word - I had a Saevish word in mind, but it translates to agender, too, and that makes no sense. I hate when I can’t convey what I mean, and I’m already regretting asking this question.

“Shaoler. Androgynous, is the closest Fallish word.” Sorivel says, looking at me like he’s ready to physically shut my mouth if I say the wrong thing.

I’m afraid I offended Kaelich, but xe smiles even more widely. For some reason, I think xe’s happy I asked.

“Yeah, I know,” xe says, “that’s one thing about sims and movies which… isn’t super-nice, incidentally. It’s about the actors, in part, those who get cast in agender roles, and also beauty standards for…”

Xe shrugs and waves xir hand. “Well, that’s beside your question, just know it’s media being cliché, more than me being unusual. And a lot of agender people don’t like having a body that… well, that looks male, or female. But that’s not my case. I like my body as it is, always did, and never felt the need to change it.”

Xe becomes a little more solemn. “I know I also fit… the expectations, to some extent, for a boy. Obedient-ish. Earnest. But as I grew up, I really, really got sick of people telling me I should be more serious. I should be strong, be a man. I shouldn’t complain, I shouldn’t be too enthusiastic, too happy, too whatever. Even when people complimented me - I’m strong like a real man, I’m loyal, a man already, it started grating. It even made me… angry, honestly. It felt like everyone was pushing me toward something they thought I should be.”

I’m surprised by the emotion in xir voice. Which is stupid, in retrospect - of course this is something xe cares about, I didn’t really expect xem to say oh, the tattoos look great on me and I like green makeup. But still, I was not ready for this kind of vulnerability on xir part.

“So I started trying the agender tattoo, and dressing the right way,” xe says, “and a lot of pressure went out. Even if weirdly, sometimes now I get pressure toward looking… well, like agender people in the movies. I have people telling me aren’t you big enough? When I train in the gym, and that didn’t happen before. Still, I like it better this way. And I think the tattoo looks better than the male one, too.”

I nod. I’m not sure I understand. Things are different in Zelenia - nobody would have accused Kaelich of being unmasculine, there. But then again, would a Zelenian boy be that chatty, or silly, or admit having that much casual sex?

Sorivel looks at me, one eyebrow raised, and I know him enough to quickly go over the last beats of conversation, trying to spot if I have said something insensitive. Oh - there it is.

“Thank you for explaining,” I say. “And I didn’t mean to imply there’s anything wrong with you. I was asking in honest ignorance.”

Sorivel nods the tiniest bit, and Kaelich goes back to xir carefree smile.

“Well, I get it,” Althea says. “We’re more relaxed about that kind of stuff in Golden Coast. Landfallers are… very serious about being a good gentleman, or a good lady and shit. But the Engineer knows I got my share of bullshit for being unladylike. I should be detached and poised and subtle. Me!”

She laughs, and for the first time, I realize she’s as unladylike by Karesian standards as she’d be in Zelenia. All the cool, beautiful girls in movies are haughty and calculating and always busy with complex machinations - whether to get the cutest boy or to conquer the world from the shadows, depending on the genre.

“But I guess I don’t care as much about expectations,” she adds. “Not saying you’re wrong, Kaelich, to be clear. But I let people assume what they wish about me. They’ll be the ones who end up burned. Also, it’s my turn to shoot, now. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Sorivel’s drones take off again, and Althea opens a spare magazine, takes out a cartridge, and cups the remaining six in her hands.

“Watch this, soldiers!” Althea says, as she throws the cartridges up into the air. Immediately after, she pushes her fist forward, as if punching an invisible enemy. Green light envelops the six rounds, and they fly toward the targets, leaving six emerald streaks, like wounds slicing through the room.

A single cartridge hits its target, barely making the outermost circle. Another one hits the drone, while the others go wide. There’s a deafening crack, dust erupts from the concrete bullet trap, and I feel a vibration going through the floor.

A moment later, red lights turns on all over the room, and a shrill siren sounds.

EMERGENCY WARNING - SEISMIC EVENT DETECTED, a red StemLink notification warns me.

“Oh god, they’ll kill us,” Kaelich says. Xe closes xir eyes, and the notification flashes green and disappears. The siren quiets after a moment.

As the dust settles, I see four deep indentations in the concrete at the end of the firing range. A spiderweb of cracks radiates from each one.

“Whoops,” Althea says, putting her hands to her mouth. “I, uh, should have summoned a shield to catch my own bullets. Sorry. But what is this base made of? Fucking toilet paper? I wasn’t even trying to break the concrete!”

“We’ll soooo be scrubbing toilets for a week,” Kaelich says. “Also, your aim is fucking shit! You barely grazed one target! No personal questions for you.”

Immediately after saying that, Kaelich looks at Althea, and they both burst into laughter.

To my surprise, I find myself joining them.

It is strange, after so many years of feeling apart from my fellow trainees, to be so at ease with this absurd team.

I would never have expected, as I was sent to this horrid, foreign place, with an unprofessional corporal, an overly religious techie and a mage, to see them as friends.