The candidates milled about the vehicle pool. Some sat playing cards on the hard straw-grass that covered the ground, while others talked in groups. A sense of uncertainty permeated the air. Kaia fidgeted as she stood at the edge of a group, listening to them talk about their various home worlds.

“Where are you from?” Irvet asked Kaia with a grin.

Kaia hesitated, knowing from experience what the answer might unleash. “Tophin,” she finally said, intentionally using the planet’s name instead of the colony.

Irvet scrunched up her face. “Never heard of it.”

Hurgas’Vutus made a disgusted sound, then hissed through his razor-sharp teeth. “Who let a cowardly peacenik into Qualification?”

The insult struck Kaia like a slap across the face. Her eyes narrowed, and she set her teeth, ready to lash back at the Jiuda.

“She’s not just a peacenik; she’s a herator!” Khaazsa spoke with such venom that Kaia took a step back.

The mood cooled, and the candidates cast hateful glares at Kaia. Even Irvet edged away from her. Khaazsa’s words rang in Kaia’s ears. She had not heard that word since she left Tophin after backing out of her psychometric-assigned posting. Being called a herator was one of the worst things imaginable. Kaia herself felt sickened that she had turned her back on the Psychometric Hierarchy, which was the cornerstone of the Imperium. Yet that pressure deep down inside of her had been relentless.

Khaazsa continued his assault. “My father is an adjutant to Admiral Ataka. He was shocked that Morven let her try out! How someone like that would have the morals and the dedication to pass Qualification is beyond me.”

Something deep in Kaia shut down, drowned by the fury flowing towards her. She turned and walked away. Around the clearing, whispers and pointing spread from Kaia’s original group until it felt like all eyes were upon her. Trying to save whatever respect she still had for herself, she veered toward a shrub and pretended that she only wanted to sit in its shade.

She had tried so hard to get away from that label, finally finding a ship and crew that tolerated her, even if Captain Marsh had been an ass.

What was she doing here, anyway? She doesn’t belong in the Special Forces. But she yearned for that command opportunity.

She noticed Irvet looking at her with sad eyes. Yet when their eyes met, Irvet found somewhere else to look. Kaia glared at Irvet, and fresh determination flickered to life. She wouldn’t let some pissant dictate what she could and couldn’t do!

A group of flatbed crawlers drove into the main staging area and pulled to a stop. One cadre, a muscular Jiuda that towered over the candidates, ordered everyone in.

“Where are we going?” Kaia asked the cadre member.

The Jiuda stared at her blankly. “Get in the crawler.”

Kaia hesitated for a beat. She knew the cadre had strategically crafted the command to give the candidates a sense of uncertainty. It matched the pattern of the previous orders given during Qualification. But knowing it and countering the effects were two different things. Frustration clawed at her insides. Her command and tactical sense demanded to be told what was going on. How else could she plan out the most strategic course of action? She bit back all her questions and forced herself up onto the crawler bed. She found an open spot on the hard metal benches lining the sides and sat down.

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With everyone on board, the crawlers moved off down the bumpy road, throwing up dust clouds that obscured the view. After enduring a long and bone-rattling ride, they finally arrived at an open field that stretched to the horizon. The only notable feature was a group of cadres standing around some gym equipment.

“Form up in six rows,” a cadre member called out. He had no rank or name tag and wore shorts and a tropical shirt, as though about to go to the beach. “Welcome to Day One of Qualification. Today, we’ll start off easy with the Special Forces PT test. Once you complete one station, immediately proceed to the next. If at any point you wish to quit, just tell a cadre that you are voluntarily withdrawing. Have a good one.”

The cadre divided the candidates into smaller colour-coded groups. The cadre lined up each group member in no particular order and gave them a number. Kaia was Green Six.

Kaia’s group began with push-ups. She lowered herself into position and waited for a cadre member to say go. The Special Forces PT test was designed to prove a minimum level of fitness. One minute each of push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, dips, and bench presses. By the time Kaia got to the shuttle run, she was sweating rivers. Whoever had decided to hold Qualification on Guzunov was purely evil. The heat was oppressive, the sun blazing, and the increased gravity made regular exercise difficult. As she skidded to a stop on the fourth leg of her sprint, her boot slid out and she fell hard, smacking her face on the dried ground. Cursing, she pushed herself back up and launched forward, praying that the slip hadn’t disqualified her. When she finished, she reported to a cadre member, but the officer’s face was as passive as all the others. After consulting something on her carpi, the cadre ordered Kaia to run to a pond ten kilometres away.

Kaia nodded in acknowledgement between heaving breaths, unable to speak, and set off. The heavier gravity pulled at her legs, making the run harder than it should have been. Even so, she managed to settle into her groove. Fast enough to meet whatever the expected time might be, but slow enough not to tire herself out.

This part of the PT test was almost enjoyable, especially as the chaos of the exercise circuit fell behind. The dried ground crunched under her boots. A gentle breeze picked up and brought with it thick clouds that blocked out the sun. As she ran, she heard those bizarre rolling bird songs again. It hit her then that she hadn’t seen a single animal on Guzunov. She looked around, trying to find the creatures, but they remained elusive.

Other candidates ran in front of her, a never-ending stream of bodies. A few of them had slowed to a walk, some limping. At the halfway point, she saw several people sitting on the ground next to a cadre member, including Irvet, who looked up, then turned away in shame. Kaia fought the urge to stop and laugh at the other woman, at how a lowly herator could beat her. Instead, Kaia gritted her teeth and used the candidates’ hateful words to fuel her anger and push away her fatigue.

Less than an hour later, Kaia arrived at the pond and reported in. Without giving her a moment’s rest, the cadre member instructed her to cross the pond to the far shore. Kaia nodded, too out of breath to reply, and started towards the water’s edge. The pond was only a couple hundred meters wide, which should have been easy. The surface roiled and splashed as other candidates waded or swam. A pair of boats floated around the midway point. Just then, one of the boats darted over to help a struggling candidate to keep their head above water.

Kaia stepped into the pond, and her boot sank up to her ankle in soft clay. Her second foot sank even deeper into the hungry muck. With a grunt, she pulled the first boot free and took another step. It didn’t get better the farther she went. The water was up to her waist when she tried taking a step and lost her boot.

“Fuck it!” She threw herself into the water to swim. The ache in her arms grew with each stroke, and her legs screamed for relief, but she powered through and successfully made it to the other side. She pulled herself to shore, covered in mud from head to toe.

“Green Six, reporting in,” she gasped at the cadre member.

The officer, a well-built man covered with spiral tattoos, gave her a stone-faced nod. He examined his carpi and motioned to where a group of exhausted, mud-covered creatures sat. Kaia’s heart sank. She had failed.

But then the cadre member added, “Sit down, you’re done for the day.”

Kaia couldn’t suppress a smile. She passed day one. However, the smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a sense of unease and doubt about whether she truly belonged in this place.