“You hold your weapon too tightly,” Augustus said, slashing with his saber, sending a reverberating sensation through the Ratcatcher’s hands despite the protection of her armor. She grimaced and changed the hold, thrusting the mancatcher in his face.

She and the instructor were in the cargo hold of the Iternian plane, facing each other during the scheduled training. They had to spend some time in Birchshell, and the girl used this time to help around, read some news, and lick her wounds. But the Shadows, those strange men and women in overlapping, stylized after human skeleton power armors, had arrived at last to take in the wounded Iternian, and the instructor returned to his regular duties, grilling each of his wards about the mistakes and missteps they had made in the mission.

“Now you hold it too lightly.” An upward blow nearly knocked the weapon out of her hands. She gripped the weapon tighter, stepped back from the blurred wave of slashes, and nearly tripped over a crate behind her. Left, right, center, down, up… Ratcatcher caught the overhead blow on the shaft and used her hand to push the saber aside, opening Augustus for a swing that she turned into a thrust after his dodge.

What skills! The instructor held back the lion’s share of his abilities, wearing a simple black t-shirt and cargo pants, while Ratcatcher was in her power armor. Using a single saber instead of his usual two-weapon style, he still dodged her thrusts, blocking the incoming blows almost carelessly and occasionally giving her comments on footwork and proper grip. The saber almost danced in his hands, flying from one hand to the other as Augustus blocked and parried. Where she had the advantage of seeing the crammed cargo bay through her armor’s cameras, Augustus relied solely on his eyes and hadn’t crashed into a single crate yet.

What can I do? I have a weapon with a longer reach, but he is fast enough to match me in speed and strong enough…

“Stop overthinking it,” Augustus said, interrupting her thoughts. Sparks flew between the two fighters as Ratcatcher drove him between the two crates, aiming to force him against the wall. Sensing her intent, the instructor changed his retreat and began another lap across the cargo. “Don’t let me control the fight. You have more than arms and legs; use everything you have. Stop poking me over and over; try the unorthodox.”

Use everything… Ratcatcher’s eyes flashed with understanding. She pushed him back with a thrust, wrapped her tail around the mancatcher, and drew in a chest full of air. And she let it out, screaming at the top of her lungs. It was a deafening scream, a defensive mechanism of sorts, and a cry for help among her people. On its own, it was loud and could confuse a person, but when amplified by the dynamics of her helmet, the effect was multiplied tenfold.

Augustus’ face changed, as if a fist struck him in the face. His eyes narrowed, and Ratcatcher fired sleeping darts from her wrists. The instructor blocked them, but this kept him in place long enough for her to swing with the tail, bringing the full weight of her mancatcher at the man. Augustus tried to retreat, and Ratcatcher kicked a nearby iron barrel at his legs, trying to get the blades to close on him. The blades closed, catching the barrel, and Ratcatcher felt the blunt side of the saber tap against her neck.

They stood for a while, the echo of her scream fading away. A crew technician opened the door, cupped his hands over his ears and shouted a question about whether everything was all right, demanding to know what fresh hell they had unleashed on his ship. Augustus assured the technician that everything was fine.

“Good,” Augustus said. He sheathed his saber and went around the cargo hall, putting the rates and barrels back in place. “You have fought well in your last battle, Eliza. Don’t try to pull out the optimal battle strategy. By prolonging a fight, you give your opponent time to get used to you, just as you learn his moves. A fight is messy, and lingering on a plan leaves you open to attack. But your strategy wasn’t wrong. Creating a perfect defense to tire out your opponent can work. I have seen Warlord Janine Ironjaw, who has mastered the art of switching from an unyielding defense to a violent offense on a fly. Or Abel of the Oathtakers, a man able to tire out anyone who assaults him through a perfect defense. But do you know why such a strategy is not for you?”

“No, sir,” Ratcatcher said.

“As an explorator, you will seldom have the luxury of fighting side-by-side with an ally. You must finish a fight quickly and move on, lest you be overwhelmed by reinforcements.” He pointed at her tail. “As an unusual-shaped Abnormal, you have more limbs than I do. Keep incorporating them into your style.”

“I try my best, sir!” Ratcatcher saluted him with the weapon, removing the armor from her body. It formed a second belt around her waist, leaving the girl dressed in a stylish white shirt with a blue crest of a fierce dragon, given to her by Vasily, and comfortable pants. She walked around the room, picking up the blocked darts. Augustus insisted she use the fighting ones instead of the blunt ones, which flew a little slower through the air. A sudden pain in her leg made the girl frown as she loaded the darts back into her bracelets.

“Not quite. The scream was a clever idea, and one we will work on in the future. But you have claws, good enough for close combat. Use them next time.” Augustus came closer and made her sit on a crate, checking her leg and torso. “At ease. How do you feel?”

“The wound from the Hustler’s sting doesn’t bother me one bit. But my leg gets a little tight sometimes,” Ratcatcher admitted. “Sort of like a painful cramp.”

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“You should’ve told me sooner. If your bone is not fully healed…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Ratcatcher laughed, putting her hands ahead and holding the mancatcher in her tail. “Vengeanceater and I had broken ourselves some bones during our little spars or hunting spiders back in Scrapyard, but we were always back on our feet before our families noticed anything.”

“What?” Augustus ran his fingers over her leg, pressing against the muscles to check for any sign of pain. Ratcatcher frowned once, and the Instructor pulled an injector out of the bag, injecting the leg with something that lessened the strain. “You are talking about young Wedge, correct? For yours and your friends’ sake, I hope you two have grown out of these habits. Full contact isn’t a game. Every year, it results in deaths among Wolfkins and Orais…” He stopped. “I’ll speak to Wedge later.”

“Sir, he hasn’t done anything!” Ratcatcher panicked.

“Then he has nothing to worry about. I am done making mistakes and overlooking potential problems.” Augustus rolled down the sleeve of her pants. “And my name is Augustus. We haven’t had a chance to speak since the New Year. I am sorry for failing to spot and prevent the situation with Elina and the rest of the group. I focused so much on teaching you all how to survive that I fully neglected my duties to guide you on how to live.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Ratcatcher smiled. “Besides, nothing bad has happened. We all had our problems; we talked them out and made peace.”

That was an exaggeration. A slight one. Elina still freaked out about Jumail, despite all the attempts to mend fences. Yesterday, she even sat next to him and tried to eat breakfast. At first, the girl was too scared to eat, but after Rowen and Carlos teased her about it, she stubbornly wolfed down her portion. Sure, the two were having problems, and there was no need to bother the instructor about it.

“No, Eliza, it was my fault. I knew that something was off, but I never bothered to look into it. Just because everything worked out does not absolve me of responsibility. I promise to do better,” Augustus said.

“Then I gladly accept your apology and promise!” Ratcatcher jumped off the crate and made a few squats, showing the instructor that she was fine. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not dwell on the past.”

“Wise,” Augustus replied. “A person once told me that the past is set in stone, but the future can be reached through numerous unmarked paths. Hatred, bitterness, and vengeance close some of them, but open others. Paths that lead to misery.”

“Sounds like a wise person,” Ratcatcher said.

“He is a deeply flawed man.” Augustus’ expression softened a bit. “But at his core, he holds a radiance capable of inspiring many. Come, then; Elina should have finished preparing for the briefing by now.”

They left the cargo bay, visited the armory to return the weapons, and went to a mess hall where the rest of the team was already assembled. It was a cramped space, like most sections of the ship, so Jumail had to contort his limbs and take a seat in a corner, making the boy look even more like a hunter spider lying in ambush. He didn’t wear any clothes; the thick hair and chitin covering of his spider body served the boy as a trusty suit. His damaged leg had already healed, but some of the chitin plates still needed to grow back to their natural size.

Vasily took it upon himself to prepare breakfast, and the tables were filled with tasty-smelling mashed potatoes mixed with vegetables. Slices of pizza sat on trays, inevitably drawing attention to themselves above the main course. Cups of coffee or soda awaited the trainees. Ratcatcher did not know how the boy had managed to prepare dishes in the ship’s galley, but the crew sang the praises of Vasily’s culinary talents.

“Attention, classes!” Elina snapped, cutting off the chatter. She alone wore the strict uniform of an Academy student, the national symbol gleaming in the light at the center of her jacket. The rest of the group chose more casual clothes.

The trainees saluted Augustus, who gestured for everyone to be at ease, and sat next to Jumail, starting his breakfast with yogurt and nutrient bars. Elina put her hands behind her back and addressed the group.

“We have been given permission to proceed to Stonehelm. Our plane will take off in an hour, and we will reach the city in eight hours.”

“At last!” Carlos cried, clinking glasses with Rowen. “I have gotten sick of this necropolis already.”

Ratcatcher cheered with the others, raised her glass, and let her jaws work, gobbling down potatoes. They had been stationed in Birchshell for a little over two days, and the place had become crowded. Army units arrived by the hour, and flaming walls surrounded the town as fire-wielding Abnormals and extermination teams started their jobs. Terraforming specialists set up their equipment, calculating the costs and materials needed for future restoration. Priests thanked Ratcatcher for the records she had made underground and assigned the girl to excavate the remains. It was a grim task, but she refused to leave the poor people without a proper burial. A cardinal, the highest ranking priest accompanying the army, held a farewell ceremony and absolved his fellow priest of any wrongdoing. The identified remains were sent to their families, while the blessed pyre purified the others, and the priests and shamans buried the bones among the dying trees. It was a native custom that meant the spirits would be reborn in the greenery and later in the animals that fed on them.

Other trainees didn’t sit idly by either. Carlos and Vasily found an army officer who allowed them to join the shooting range. Elina, Edward, and Esmeralda helped at the hospital. Jumail was assigned to be the contact person for the Shadows, which made him the envy of everyone. These men or women, clad in black armor, moved about the city with the grace of ghosts. Ratcatcher saw a few of them and could have sworn that none of them so much as breathed or moved to shake tiredness from their limbs. None knew what the Shadows spoke of with Jumail, but at the end of the civilians’ evacuation, his armor was as good as new. Rowen, his ribs still aching, worked as the team’s coordinator, helping to prepare materials for Elina’s report.

“Don’t we all?” Jumail nodded. “Do we know why we had to wait so long for clearance?”

Elina pursed her lips and took a breath. “Officially? Some sort of manhunt after the escaped Oracles.”

“And unofficially?” Edward inquired. Elina shrugged.

“It’s simple, stupid!” Esmeralda laughed and put her empty tray aside. “You saw the giant reactor that Hive ripped from the metallic beast? The Oathtakers moved it inland and didn’t want us or the Shadows spying on them; hence, they keep us close to Birchshell. Not that we would ever do such a thing,” she said quickly to Augustus.

“Officially.” Augustus nodded to her.