Tiamat was an old AI, the food in her mess hall was literally good beyond human ken. Despite her skills, I tasted nothing but ashes with every mouthful. My First had opened up to me and all I could do was scream and run. It didn't matter what the tests said, how good I was at moving pieces around a board and finding ways to fit square pegs into round holes. If I couldn't even motivate a single person who was trying to work with me, I couldn't command.
I shoveled food into my mouth mechanically, counting as I chewed to make sure I didn't choke. My next class was Advanced Tactical Techniques. Innocuous name for the pinnacle class for a Middie who wanted Command. No matter the ship, the Captain always taught ATT. So far I hadn't attended a session with her yet; Tiamat handled the boring chore of assessing my current skill levels before handing me off to the Commandant. Today I'd be under the direct tutelage of the woman who hated me for my resemblance to my father's wife.
I couldn't taste the food, but I was certain to fail by the numbers if I went to class hungry. I swallowed mouthful after mouthful of what might as well have been cardboard, completely lost in endless thoughts spiraling toward my imminent failure and disgrace. Right when I needed confidence, it deserted me. Par for the course.
Trapped in despair, choking down food I needed but didn't want, I almost didn't notice the cadet clothed in the crimson and gold chased uniform slide into the seat across from me. I glanced up, annoyed at being interrupted, and almost dropped my fork. After a quick nod to acknowledge Guy's presence, I stared grimly at my food and concentrated on eating as an excuse for not looking at him.
Since the day I'd arrived, I'd only seen him in passing, mostly when I was in the armor bay practicing dodge ball. Every time I'd had a free exercise period, I'd hit the bay to keep my skills intact, and every time I'd seen him working on that monster suit of crimson and gold armor.
As long as I couldn't see his face I was fine. From the neck down, other than the color of his uniform's trim, he was pretty typical for an Imperial Cadet. Slim hipped, broad shouldered, maybe a little less heavily muscled than most. Nothing to make my brain go on vacation. When I looked him in the eye, on the other hand, it was all I could do to keep from losing myself in leftover memories. I'd tried to inoculate myself. I had his open files on my private console in my room, and after I'd glanced through them I posted his picture on my desktop, a constant goad to remind me of my weakness.
As of today, I didn't have access to his files; he was due to be promoted to Senior Cadet. I silently cursed at my own forgetfulness and forced a smile onto my face. I raised my gaze just high enough to see his mouth, twisted into an expectant grin as he picked at his food.
"Happy Birthday, Cadet! Congratulations on your promotion!"
My social duties done, I returned to my food. Cadet training is hard, but if you don't get enough calories it becomes downright impossible. One forkful at a time I worked my way through the biscuits, grits and gravy. Using a fork to eat it all without getting any on my uniform was probably stupid, but I'd only grabbed the fork from the utensil shelf, and getting up for a spoon seemed like too much effort.
"Thanks, Captain Dabig, but I'm not being promoted today."
I swallowed and smirked up at him, careful not to meet his gaze. "Dragons finally caught up with you for wearing their colors?"
That wiped the stupid grin from his face, at least. The moment it did, I felt guilty. I was his Captain. I was supposed to be shepherding his career as much as my own. I'd started researching how to do that with all of the Middies except Guy. There was no point in putting in time researching how to help him when he'd be gone before I was done. Except now he wouldn't be promoted, and I had no idea how to help him.
"No. I declined the promotion."
This time I did drop my fork. It splashed into the puddle of gravy, flipping free and scattering gravy and grits in an ungraceful arc. My gaze snapped to his, and I had just enough time to swear once before memory dragged me under.
***
I watched him climb, hand over hand, my attention riveted by the simple athleticism he displayed. Without ropes, or pitons, or any kind of net, he scaled the sheer cliff like crawling along a floor. No hesitation, no sense of strain, just one handhold after another, only setting his feet when he needed to stretch further than he could reach without the extra leverage.
His actions confused me as much as the man himself intrigued me. I'd never seen someone climb like this before. Oh, I'd seen men clamber along the outside of a ship, but that was just the best way to move close to a ship in zero gee. I'd even watched Marines scramble up the sides of hulking 'Sect Beetles and gargantuan Mech' Juggernauts, but they were wrestling, not really climbing. Any sane person would have engaged his gravitics and flown, rather than risking the long, painful fall to the ground.
He didn’t just climb, he did so with a fair turn of speed. I checked my camouflage and, once I was sure it was functioning properly, I fired up my own gravitics and launched myself into the air to follow him. I feared I'd lost him until I spotted him using a crack in the rock as a chimney, climbing with his back against one wall and his hands and feet against the other.
Stolen novel; please report.
At the top of the chimney, he levered himself partway onto a small cliff, peering over the edge into the huge nest that nearly filled the flat space. I swept closer, wondering why he didn’t use active camouflage if he didn't want the owner of the nest to see him. He reached in, careful to avoid touching any of the gently rocking eggs, and pulled out a single long feather. Half braced in the chimney as he was, he couldn't relax entirely, but the tension drained out of his shoulders as he tucked the feather under his shirt.
A piercing shriek split the sky. A bundle of feathers, claws, and talons plummeted through my personal perimeter, missing me by less than a meter. The eagle plunged past her nest, frantically attacking the interloper. He covered his head with his hands, desperately trying to fend the raptor off. I wondered again when he didn't attack it. I thought about intervening.
My neck ached, the memory of a line of ice and fire tracing around it. If mother found out, she wouldn't just kill me, she might kill him as well. I stared unseeing at the struggle in the nest as I came to the realization his death meant far more to me than my own.
That was madness. I hadn't even properly met the man. I first saw him when he called for Imperial support to stop an insurrection, and I'd been following him since then. He intrigued me. Fierce yet gentle. Strong yet controlled. He reminded me of someone, but even searching my earliest memories I couldn't remember anyone quite like him.
A rapidly receding cry from the chimney pulled me from my reverie. He fell gracelessly, headfirst, blood streaming from cuts on his face. I stared, mouth gaping, as he plunged down the chimney, stubbornly refusing to activate his gravitics.
Then I remembered. He was a Civilian. He didn't have gravitics, or camouflage, or any of the other modifications I took for granted. He'd made the climb because he couldn't fly. He'd worn dull clothes because he couldn't bend the light around himself. I'd first seen him calling in military support and forgotten entirely that he was just a Protector; officially an Imperial Law Enforcement Officer, but more frequently a janitor, cleaning up whatever messes happened to clutter up the Empire.
Before I could think about it, I moved. Internal drives threw me toward the ground faster than gravity ever could. I dove headfirst down the chimney, my essie diverting power from camouflage to speed. The unyielding stone at the chimney floor loomed close. I grabbed at his ankles and missed. I grabbed again, both hands latching onto his left leg, and poured every ounce of power I had into reversing course. With bare inches to spare, I came to rest floating at the bottom of the chimney.
"Ow." He struggled weakly. His hands clutched his head; even with my gravitics damping the effects of inertia, he would still have a headache. He twisted his head around, trying to get a look at me, and I realized my camouflage had dissipated entirely. I lowered him the few remaining inches, and he turned back to catch himself. When his palms touched the floor, I slid hand over hand along his back until my mouth rested next to his ear.
"Careful, Protector Dustin Dabig. We wouldn't want to spend another fifty years waiting for you to grow up again."
Before he could reply, I twisted around just enough to get my head above my ankles, then shot upwards under the full power of my drive. The eagle's squawk when the shock of my passing knocked her aside made no more impression than Dustin's startled cry when my drive left him standing on his hands. I didn't have time for recovering species or intriguing policemen. I had to get away from here. If mother found out what I'd done, she’d kill me.
Again.
***
I surfaced from Grace's memories disgusted with my weakness, fully expecting the need to clean the remains of breakfast from my uniform. Instead, I found myself walking down a corridor, almost to class. I tried to stop walking and stumbled as my legs tried to keep moving. Before I could hit the ground, a hand clamped onto my arm and held me upright until I had my balance.
"Watch it, Captain. The flat level ground in these corridors can be tricky to navigate."
At the same time Guy's words hit my ears, his voice sounded inside my head, the two managing to remain distinct despite overlapping.
Sorry, Captain. I thought you'd want to make it here on time, since the Commandant is teaching today.
I forced myself to ignore the natural response of meeting his gaze. Instead, I locked my eyes on his chin before replying.
"Thanks, Delnot. I'll try to keep that in mind." I said out loud, while simultaneously growling a response inside my head.
How the hell? I thought only the Imperial family were strong enough telepaths to control other people's actions.
His self-deprecating grin caught me off guard. Before I could fall into the trap of his eyes, I switched my gaze to his hair. If that gave him the impression I was looking down my nose at him, so be it. I stepped away and started toward my class before his reply reached me.
I heard Imperial Princess Steadfast once controlled the entire population of a planet being invaded by 'Sects. I couldn't keep you walking unless I walked next to you.
I reached for the door controls, but Guy got there before me, his fingers stroking the entrance codes that, by rights, only Quick and I should have. I glared at him, my gaze carefully locked to his hair, but he ignored me, waving me into the classroom with a bow and flourish.
"After you, Sir."
I didn't have time to waste on Guy Delnot. I stepped into the room, where Quick had already hooked into the simulator, probably reviewing the technical specs of whatever war game we were about to play. Before I closed the door, I shot an impatient, "shouldn't you be getting to class?" over my shoulder.
"Yes, Sir. This is me getting to class, Sir." Satisfied, I sat at my own desk and started connecting the leads that would allow Tiamat to safely override my own perceptions and actions. Before I'd connected the second one, Guy's fingers danced over the keys and the door slid shut. I was busy watching the instructor's entrance, hoping to finish hooking up before she arrived.
I jumped when Guy sat down at the station next to me and leaned back into the student's seat.
What are you doing? I thought at him.
He shot me another of those amused grins. Getting ready for class.
My hands continued mechanically attaching leads as the implications of that simple statement sunk in. Guy and Quick, the two Cadets who reliably set off my mother's memories, both in class with me, with Commandant De'Lann as the instructor. Someday I wanted to meet the people responsible for my life and slap them.
But they’re already dead.