Aubrey slumped in her chair at the back of the sterile classroom. Next to her sat Nube, trying her best to stay awake as Professor Kazban, an ancient, frail Divona paced up and down the wall as he spoke.

His long torso was decorated with scars, deep chasms in his flesh that covered nearly all of his body, and his long limbs were twisted at strange angles, as if they had been broken and stitched back together incorrectly.

Aubrey was hypnotized by his movements; his slow loping stretches as he climbed the jagged stone wall made him seem brittle, as if his arms or legs would snap clean off in an explosion of dust if he stretched too far.

In front of him, a large hologram displayed the physiology of the Valaphar, one of the member races of the Azrael. The creature resembled a giant, mechanical spider, its four long metal legs extending from a central sphere which looked to be made of glass. Underneath the central hub, a mechanical, vicious mouth chittered. Below it, eight short arms with sharp claws hung, which seemed in perpetual motion, rubbing together as the creature shifted its weight from side to side, snapping anxiously. Within the central glass chamber, a brain floated in a glowing pink liquid.

“The Valaphar were originally bipedal mammals, not incredibly dissimilar to human beings, although they more resembled the Pangolin than the primate ancestors humanity sprang from,” Kazban said. “But unlike humans, they were crueler, more aggressive, and nearly self-destructed in a nuclear holocaust unrivaled in the known history of the Alliance. But our bad luck, some survived.”

Professor Kazban chuckled at his own joke. Aubrey’s understanding of the enemy was still limited; she had learned that, unlike the human alliance with its various subcultures and different races unified in their singular vision of a glorious universe guided by the wisdom of the Five, the Azrael were five races that had been unified through unnatural means not yet fully understood.

So much so that their separate cultures had all but disappeared. They ceased to be separate civilizations, and simply became the Azrael.

“To survive the nuclear winter that followed, the creatures were forced to abandon their physical bodies. Now, only their brains survive, suspended in a translucent liquid that provides perfect sustenance, surrounded by armored bodies of their own making, endlessly changing, endlessly upgraded and improved. Monstrosities resulting from artificial evolution.”

Professor Kazban clambered down the wall and made his way through the students as they sat in their liquid chairs, some typing with their aglets, others simply listening.

“I believe it is this detachment from mortal flesh, from injury and pain, that makes the Azrael the monsters they are. It has been theorized that the Valaphar are the leadership caste within their society. It is the Valaphar who push forward their agenda of torture, of conquest, of horror.”

He approached Aubrey, smirking as he looked down at her, his bioluminescent patches rapidly changing color.

“You see, all biological creatures feel pain. Starting at a young age, when we hurt another creature, we see its torment, we see it react, and we feel empathy because we too have experienced pain. Thus we naturally develop a desire to avoid inflicting unnecessary discomfort in others.”

Paused for dramatic effect. “But imagine what it would be like, to leave your mortal form behind. To no longer feel pain, to have eliminated the fear of bodily harm. How long would it take to forget what it felt like to be pinched. Or to stub your toe. Now imagine never having felt pain at all, from the time you were born, or in the case of the Valaphar, cloned, to the time of your death.”

“Seems like it would be great,” Twiki said. “No pain, no fear, no weakness to overcome.”

Professor Kazban smiled wickedly. “You’re right. There are many theoretical benefits to the idea, and several scientists at the Grike Station had been pursing just that concept: pain suppression. However, in their wisdom, the Five have shown us the error of such pursuits.”

“Why?” Twiki asked.

“The Valaphar, as a result of their decision to leave the flesh behind, have a pervasive lack of responsibility and lack of attachment to other creatures. Though nearly immortal, they view all life with utter nihilistic disdain. They see no inherent evil in torture, in inflicting unimaginable pain on their enemies. When a loved one dies, there is no sense of loss, no sorrow or sadness. Their actions, divorced of consequence, lead them to darker, more horrifying terrain.”

He leaned in close to Twiki, peering directly into her eyes. “This is why the Azrael are the toughest enemy the Alliance has ever faced. One of the greatest strengths a soldier can have is to learn to love your enemies and to hate your friends. Love your enemy, because in that moment, you will truly understand them and know how to defeat them. Hate your friends, so that your military decisions can be made with the cold, calculating intellect needed to win.”

“But doesn’t it take more than intellect to win a battle?” Nube asked.

He glared at her. “Of course. The great military theologian Ganesa Ocelus taught that the three core attributes necessary for victory are the strength to defeat your enemy, the intellect to know how to apply that strength, and the will to pursue victory at all costs.”

“What about wisdom?” Aubrey asked, a twinge of defiance in her voice. “Strength without wisdom is useless. It self-destructs.”

“Wisdom?” he sneered. “An overrated, dangerous attribute. Wisdom comes from experience, and yes, experience is invaluable on the battlefield. But when a commander esteems himself as wise, he ceases to listen. He ceases to learn. His thoughts become calcified and he stagnates. What you call wisdom, I call stubborn foolishness and pride. Throughout history, the wise always perish in war, clinging to their archaic superstitions and principles.”

“Isn’t it better to die for what you believe in than to live for nothing?” Aubrey asked.

The class burst into laughter. Aubrey’s cheeks burned as she glanced over at Nube, who smiled sadly at her.

“You have much to learn, little girl” Kazban chuckled. “We’ll burn those superstitions out of you yet.”

Aubrey bit her lip through the rest of class; several times so hard the thick iron taste of blood mingled with her spit. This was a cruel place, and she was beginning to resent it.

Class finally ended, and Nube stretched her long arms and legs. “I’m starving, wanna go get some food?”

“No, I’m not really hungry. I think I’m just going to head back to the barracks for the night”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling at her friend.

As the students filed out of the classroom, Aubrey walked alone, lost in her thoughts. How could the world have changed so drastically in such a short time? Everyone seemed so calculating and cynical. She hated the thought of becoming like them.

She wondered if this was what her father had felt.

Aubrey glanced around, suddenly realizing she was very much alone. The corridor had become strangely silent. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Twiki with two other students, Marku and Nabu, flanking her.

Too late, Aubrey realized her mistake.

She broke into a sprint. Marku lunged forward, sweeping Aubrey’s leg with his long, bony tail. Aubrey tried to twist and roll, but hit the floor hard and felt a snap in her wrist.

Leaning forward, she kicked her right leg back as hard as she could, catching her attacker square in the stomach. She grinned at the satisfying sound of Marku’s groan. He doubled over in agony.

It wasn’t enough to deter her attackers. Twiki and Nabu where on her in an instant, pummeling her with their fists. Aubrey held her good arm up, attempting to shield her face from the flurry of blows that rained down on her. She pushed herself against the wall to protect her back, catching some sharp kicks to the ribs.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” she asked weakly.

Twiki held her hand up, and the beating stopped for a moment. She squatted down next to Aubrey, pulling her hair, staring into her bloodied face.

“Why? Because I’m the apex predator here. You’re the rabbit. And I’m feeling hungry.”

Her friends laughed as they continued to kick and punch. Aubrey felt herself slipping into blackness when she heard Twiki shout in surprise - an armored fist darted out from the shadows and caught her square in the left eye.

Mamre leapt from her hiding spot in the darkness of the hallway, her black shell a blur of motion. She followed her jab with a quick hook and Twiki collapsed to the floor, blood pouring from her broad nostrils.

Nabu, his eyes wide in terror, swung at Mamre, catching her squarely in the back. His hand crunched loudly sound as it slammed into the heavy plated armor of Mamre’s exoskeleton.

Nabu howled in pain. Clutching his gnarled hand, he turned and ran from his opponent, tears streaking his face.

Twiki slid backwards on the floor, her hand covering her eye. “You’re dead. Both of you.”

Mamre twisted and kicked Marku in the side of the face as he approached. His head bounced loudly off the corridor wall.

Dazed, Marku hardly seemed to register what had happened as Mamre hooked her arm under his shoulder and spun, tossing him a good six feet where he collapsed in a pile on the floor.

Mamre approached Twiki, who scrambled backwards.

“Enough,” Aubrey said, blood pouring down her chin. “I think you should go now, Twiki.”

Twiki glared at her, but then looked back at Mamre, her fists balled as she shifted gracefully from foot to foot, eager to continue their melee.

“You’re already a corpse. What you think doesn’t matter.” Twiki stormed off, Makru hobbling behind her.

Mamre watched them until they turned the corner. She then stooped down by Aubrey.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I am now. Thanks.”

Mamre shook her head. “That was stupid of you, getting caught alone like that. They could have killed you.”

Aubrey smiled as best she could as her lip swelled. “I never said I wasn’t stupid.”

Mamre shook her slug-like head. She put her arm under Aubrey’s, pulling her to her feet.

Aubrey gasped in pain as she felt a piece of rib grinding against another on her left side.

“C’mon,” Mamre said as they walked gingerly down the hallway. “Let’s get you back to the barracks.”

After a long, painful journey, they arrived at their sleeping quarters. As they entered, Ado jumped to his feet.

“What happened?” he asked as he helped Mamre carry Aubrey to her sleeping pod.

“Twiki and her thugs cornered me,” Aubrey said, wincing as she sat down. “Pretty sure I have a broken wrist, and my ribs feel pretty messed up.”

The rest of her team fell silent as they watched her slowly lie down. Ado punched the colored buttons on the console display of her sleeping pod. “Alzar, please run a bodily trauma routine, identify the major areas, and focus the Mulier system there,” he said

“Right away.”

“The pod should be able to reduce the swelling and tissue damage, but you’re still going to be really sore tomorrow,” Ado said as he finished configuring the pod.

Aubrey smiled up at him through her cracked lip. She could already feel a strange tickling sensation, like a series of pins and needles in both her wrist and ribs as the nano-bots began stitching her bones back together, moving them gently into place. “Thanks, Ado.”

He reached down and with a single fat finger brushed her hair out of her face. “You’re our commander; we’re just making sure you’re in one piece so we don’t lose.” He then grinned his toothy grin, which made Aubrey laugh.

She winced in pain, cradling her side. “No, please, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“She’s our commander? What a joke!” she heard someone mutter. Aubrey’s laughter faded.

“She’s going to get us all killed,” Eshcol said.

“No, she will not. She will lead us to victory,” Amur said confidently, before sneezing.

“Oh shut-up, squid brain. You shouldn’t even be here.”

Aubrey closed her eyes. Maybe they were right. Maybe she shouldn’t be their commander.

Sleep came fitfully. Several times she awoke to see Amur standing over her.

“What are you doing, Amur?” she asked.

“Making sure you’re safe,” he answered, grinning. He blinked heavily, his eyes ringed with exhaustion.

“Go to sleep, Amur,” she mumbled, before rolling over.

The next morning, she stretched her wrist tentatively, testing it. It was sore, Ado hadn’t lied about that. But it otherwise felt fine.

She pulled herself to her feet. Every bone seemed to groan and ache.

After breakfast, she and her team headed to bay eleven. There, Archon, their Jugger, awaited.

Several of the students poked at the giant mech; others began to talk excitedly about the modifications they should make to the auto cannon systems.

James Nelson drove his wheelchair to the control console and began to sift through the data using his aglets. He was soon joined by his brother, Jon, and the rotund Oner, who stayed a few feet back and watched, its clawed hands rubbing together nervously.

Ado and Nube turned to Aubrey.

“Well? What should we do?” Ado asked.

“I don’t know,” Aubrey answered. “What do students usually do?”

Ado and Nube both shrugged.

Aubrey sighed. She cleared her throat.

“Hey, everyone?”

Mamre and Amur walked over to her, but the rest continued their work as if she hadn’t made a sound.

“Everyone?” Aubrey said, louder this time. Her team looked over at her.

“We need to figure out what we’re doing. A plan of attack,” she continued, her voice cracking with nerves. “Any thoughts?”

Her team glanced around, puzzled. No one spoke up.

“Okay, well, why don’t we run some diagnostics, make sure this thing is working.”

“That’s dumb. Why would they give us a broken Jugger?” Nergal said.

“I guess I don’t know,” Aubrey answered. “But better safe than sorry.”

Nergal shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, safe is what will win us battles.”

“Aubrey’s right,” James said. “It looks like the right arm isn’t fully functional, and there are some very out of date software routines.”

“Fantastic. Does anyone know how to fix the arm?” Aubrey asked.

Again, silence.

“We suppose we can take a look,” Ado said.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“Great. Do you need any help?” Aubrey asked.

Ado shrugged. “We don’t know, probably.”

“Okay, um, Mamre, do you want to help?” she asked.

“I’m not good with this technical stuff,” she answered sheepishly.

“I’ll help!” Amur volunteered.

“Yeah, okay,” Aubrey said. “Just do whatever Ado says, okay?”

Amur nodded, his wide grin exposing the rows of hooked teeth in his circular mouth. The two climbed the scaffolding near the right arm to get a closer look.

“James, anything else we should take a look at?” she asked.

“Not sure,” he answered sharply, turning back to the schematics and data feed.

She waited, watching him for a moment before realizing he wasn’t going to provide any more insight.

“Okay, well then maybe we should…” she trailed off as her team returned to their tasks. Two students moved heavy artillery from a rack in the back into the autoloader at the base of the Jugger's left leg.

“Everyone, I think we should-“ her voice was drowned out as Paltit fired up an arc welder and began attaching some armored plating to a gap near the left ankle.

“Guys…” Aubrey tried again in vain to get her team’s attention.

“NO! AMUR! NOT THE-“ the rest of Ado’s sentence was cut off as the right forearm of the Jugger disconnected and fell to the floor.

Mamre, reacting faster than Aubrey thought possible, ran with blinding speed and tackled Oner, while Shamesh barely managed to dive out of the way. The massive limbed crashed to the ground, narrowly crushing the pair to death under its enormous weight.

“Would you watch what you’re doing up there, you squid brain? You almost killed me!” Shamesh shouted.

“Thanks,” Oner said with his usual depressed voice as Mamre helped it to its feet. “I’m always in the way it seems.”

Aubrey shook her head and glanced at Nube, who smiled and shrugged. Aubrey returned the smile weakly, before the two headed towards Jon to see what he was working on.

#

Aubrey had hoped that, with time, things would get better. But that had not been the case. Two weeks into their training, and her team still fought, still argued, and seemed to work at cross purposes more often than not.

Aubrey felt herself withdrawing. She resented her team for not listening to her. Resented Nam Rood for putting her in this position. She was new to this world, what business did she have commanding others?

Thankfully she hadn’t been attacked again, entirely due to Amur and Mamre who took turns escorting her, watching her every move.

James had identified a major security flaw with their software, something that Aubrey did not fully understand. She did not have a coding background, and while she had loved using computers back home, the technology had advanced so far it may as well have been magic to her.

She and Ado stayed late after a lecture from Professor Kazban, making use of his powerful computer system to see if Ado could work through some of the kinks. Alzar had run diagnostics of the various computer systems that where available to the students, and oddly, Professor Kazban’s ranked significantly higher in terms of computational power than the rest, by several factors.

Ado’s aglets danced furiously in the air as he scanned the Jugger code. Aubrey watched him, trying not to feel useless as she spun absentmindedly in her liquid chair.

“It’s like someone patched this together from six or seven different core Jugger systems. There are so many conflicts it’s difficult to know what to eliminate and what is necessary,” he said.

“Is there a way to run the full software in a test environment without loading it directly into Archon?” Aubrey asked.

Ado paused, inflating his head sack and bulging his eyes, something he had a habit of doing while he thought. It never failed to make Aubrey smile.

“Possibly. Let us see what kind of programs we have here.”

Ado scanned through the various software systems they could access on Professor Kazban’s system.

“Nothing that looks like…” He paused for a moment. “Hang on, what’s this?”

He pulled up a mammoth file, its name a seemingly random and endless chain of numbers, which had been buried deep in one of the subroutine folders. He opened it and shared the display with Aubrey.

A string of numbers displayed next to a complex three dimensional data schematic. The schematic seemed to be in perpetual motion, with data packets shooting between processing centers, firing at random.

“What in the world?” Ado asked. As he spoke, the schematic seemed to react, firing data packets in response to his voice. Ado raised his hands, spinning the display in three dimensions as data packets exploded like fireworks in every direction between the dense web of connections.

“It’s strangely beautiful,” Aubrey said, tilting her head as she watched the fireworks display caused by the sound of her voice.

Ado pushed the display to the side, digging deeper into the data file. He pulled up video of a small white mouse as it ran through a maze. There seemed to be thousands of such videos in the archives. He switched back to the data schematic and dug deeper into the code architecture.

“There you are,” he said, his aglet dancing. “We bet if we run this routine…” he mumbled to himself.

And suddenly, Aubrey and Ado were watching the mouse run the same maze. Only, they weren’t watching the mouse; they were the mouse.

“It’s a complete data map of the mouse’s brain,” Ado said, his voice filled with wonder.

With a bright flash, their screens simultaneously went blank.

“What do you think you’re doing, digging through my files?” Professor Kazban roared.

“We were just looking for software that could-“ Aubrey said.

“Liar!” Kazban shouted, cutting her off. His long frame bounded towards them, his glowing skin flashing a dangerous red. “You students aren’t meant to be meddling in things you don’t understand.”

“But you successfully mapped a brain. That’s a remarkable achievement,” Ado said. “Think of the-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, boy,” Kazban growled, poking Ado in the chest with his long, curled finger. “And if I ever catch the two of you using my equipment again, I won’t just have you expelled. I’ll make sure you rot in the deepest, darkest prison on Rust World for espionage, in a pit so unfathomablly dark you’ll forget what sunlight looks like. Am I making myself clear?”

Aubrey and Ado both nodded, eyes wide with terror.

“Now get the hell out of my classroom.”

Aubrey and Ado didn’t need a second invitation, and scrambled out of the room.

“What was that all about?” Aubrey asked.

“No idea,” Ado said, shaking his head as they sped through the corridors. “But from what we can see, Professor Kazban may be onto something that will make him a fortune on the A.I. markets.”

“I had no idea the old man could move like that.”

“Aubrey,” Alzar interrupted. “Commander Nam Rood has requested your presence in his office right away.”

Aubrey slumped. “You don’t think Kazban reported us, do you?”

Ado shrugged, his eyes wide.

The two made their way to Nam Rood’s office.

“We’ll wait here for you,” Ado said, smiling grimly.

“Thanks.”

Aubrey swallowed hard and pushed open the door to Nam Rood’s office.

He sat behind his desk, a series of digital communications floating in front of him as he read. He glanced up.

“Please, take a seat,” he said.

Aubrey sat in the same chair she had been in only a few weeks earlier. Her skin crawled and her stomach fluttered. Despite her chronic inability to avoid such situations, she had always hated the feeling of being in trouble, and that feeling had become more and more common as her time at Bavel continued.

Finally he swept the words off his display and looked up at her.

“I get the distinct sense that your team is flailing. And if that is the case, it means you are failing them as their commander.”

Aubrey was taken aback by his bluntness. “I’m doing the best I can,” she mumbled, her eyes falling to the floor.

“The best you can? I doubt that very much Aubrey.” He leaned forward in his chair. “You remind me a great deal of your father.”

Aubrey’s eyes shot up and met his gaze. “You knew my father?”

“Oh yes, quite well. He was a lot like you. An idealist. Kind to a fault. And that’s what got him killed. He threw his life away, foolishly disobeying a direct order while under my command. His death was nothing more than a waste of his remarkable potential. His death meant nothing.”

Aubrey’s cheeks burned as her vision blurred with tears. Her father was dead? She had come all this way, left everything she loved behind, for nothing?

“Now you’re crying?” Nam Rood said with disdain. “Nothing is ever accomplished by tears. You’re weak, Aubrey. Perhaps too weak.”

He stood and approached her, bending over so his face stood a few inches from hers. “And the worst part is you won’t be the one who pays for the consequences of your poor choices. It’ll be one of your teammates that are killed first. Maybe even one of your friends.” He paused, glaring at her. “Do you think you could live with that?”

She shook her head, tears dancing on her cheeks before dropping to her lap.

“Do you miss your family? Your home?” he asked as he sat on the edge of his desk, facing her.

She nodded. “Very much so.”

“How sentimental and childish. If you can’t learn to let go of the past, you’ll fall apart day by day until you’re killed. Your family is dead, Aubrey. Your mother, your sister, your brother; they died hundreds of years ago. Your father died in battle, serving the Five. You can’t change that. To dwell on it is foolish.”

His words struck her like great fists, forcing the air from her lungs. Aubrey kept her gaze locked on the floor. She took measured breaths, attempting to regain control of her emotions.

“You need to embrace your humanity. As a human, you dream. And when you dream, it is of power. That is your nature, your true nature, and what will ultimately be your salvation.”

“You don’t know my dreams,” she shot back, finally meeting his gaze. “I never wanted power; I only wanted to see the stars. I just didn’t know they’d be filled with such ugliness.”

Nam Rood laughed. “Don’t deny your true nature, your baser instincts. Don’t pretend to be something you aren’t, little girl. Eventually you’ll forget you’re pretending. And so will everyone else.”

He watched her, meeting her defiance with an almost clinical detachment. “You have so much of him in you. The same intractability. The same kindness and integrity. Things quickly become twice as hard when you’re honest.” He gestured around the room. “Look around you. Do you think this world cares one iota that you’re sad? Or honest? Or good? Empires are built by the strong, not the kind.”

She continued to glare at him in silence.

“I’m trying to help you here, Aubrey. You are going to die if you don’t listen to me.”

“It’s always easier to fight for your principles than to actually live them,” she shot back. “At least I can say that I stand for something.”

He smirked. “And what is that exactly?”

Aubrey bit her lip, unsure how to answer.

“Just, give it some thought. You have great potential. I’d hate to see you throw everything away like your father did.”

Her eyes narrowed. She felt rage boiling in the pit of her stomach, her hand clenched into a fist. “May I go now?”

He watched her for a moment, before nodding his head.

She turned and stormed out, her hands shaking in rage.

As he watched her leave, Nam Rood couldn’t help but smile to himself. For better or for worse, he’d lit a fire in her. Now he’d see exactly what she was made of.

#

Aubrey sat in her Biological Engineering class, chewing her thumbnail with a vengeance. Days later, Nam Rood’s words still stung. Who was he to talk about her father? Had he really been his commander? Or was this another game? Everything at Bavel seemed designed to mess with the student’s minds. To get them to turn on each other. To manipulate them.

Jar Breson stood at the front of the lecture hall, his bent frame leaning heavily against a metal platform that slid out of the floor.

“Twenty-five years after their first rebellion, the leadership of the city of Tyre, one of the jewels of our people the Heruka, worked in secret to create a biological poison that was transmittable via the neural net and Mulier system. They had hoped that this would disrupt the human technologies long enough to allow them to fight off the occupational forces and regain independence for their homeland,” he said, his dry voice cracked with dust.

“This biotech was successful during the first trial runs. However, when it was finally deployed against their enemy, it had disastrous results. The humans were far less susceptible to the poison than anticipated, but the Gish were much more sensitive. The attack caused numerous unintended deaths of innocent victims,” his voiced carried a tone of sorrow, almost of regret.

An image of a beautiful city appeared in Aubrey’s display, its great spires made from living technology, calcified walls intertwined with vegetation to form intricate support structures. Great walkways sprang like branches, hardened and twisted from building to building, while great networks of fungi spanned the ground below, light and information running along the intricate lattice.

“The Five decided that a message must be sent to the remaining systems; their retaliation was both swift and brutal, their vengeance complete. They sent fifteen Juggers to destroy the city, with instructions to see that not one stone should be left stacked upon another. So brutal was their assault, so complete the destruction, that to this day, nothing will grow where this marvelous city once stood.”

Aubrey watched in horror as the Juggers came, great and terrible. She could hear the buildings scream as the great metal monstrosities opened fire, raining death and destruction on the inhabitants. Men, women, and children - most of them Heruka - cried out in shock and horror. Some fled, panicked, scrambled to escape the inevitable. Others attempted to mount a scattershot defense, while most simply laid down and died. The scene was one of terror, until all that remained was a smoldering crater of nuclear waste. The destruction was terrible, and complete.

“It remains, to this day, one of the great tragedies of the seven systems.”

“Tragedy?” Twiki snorted. “Sounds to me like they got what they deserved.”

Jar Breson watched her for a moment, his head sack slowly inflating and deflating as he stood in silence. The room quickly became uncomfortable. Several students shifted in their seats.

He finally broke the stillness. “Let us ask you a question, Twiki. Have you ever committed a serious crime? Say, one that would befit a term on Rust World?”

“Of course not!”

“And what about your father, Sky Marshal Cherea Bellee? Has he ever committed a crime?”

“Certainly not. You do not become the commander of the entire armed forces of the Five if you are no better than a common criminal.”

“And what of your Grandmother, Empress Vorta Bata Soom? Has she ever committed a capital offense?”

Twiki’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Then tell us, do you think it would be just if the Five decided to destroy the Holy City of Idurq K’Onirrn, along with your entire family, because of the choices of twenty individuals living there?”

Twiki didn’t answer.

“Do you think it would be just for them to kill every man, woman, and child on your home world to send a message to the other systems? That sedition and rebellion will not be tolerated?”

Twiki’s eyes fell to the floor.

“Well?” he asked louder, straitening his withered frame to its full height.

“If the Five deemed it so, then yes,” Twiki mumbled. “They are infallible and righteous.”

Jar Breson snorted. “War does not determine whose cause was righteous, but simply who survives,” his bent form paced back and forth in front of the students. “Never mistake might for right.” As he turned, Aubrey saw a strange brand burned into the flesh of his left hand. It looked like an eight pointed star made of two overlaid squares, their edges intertwined. In the center was a small circle. The same mark she had seen on Ado’s shoulder.

“Are you saying the Five were wrong?” Ado asked tentatively. A heavy atmosphere of fear filled the room.

Jar Breson thought for a moment, before smiling. “Of course not. That would be sedition. And we have no desire to spend our few remaining years on Rust World. We’d much rather spend them sitting near our fireplace with a good book, smoking a large pipe of rangweed.”

Several students laughed as the tension broke.

“But,” he continued. “Simply because a decision in war is the correct one, does not make it any less tragic. All sentient creatures are neither entirely noble, nor wicked. They are a confused mixture of both, and it is their choices that decide their path. It is far better to help your enemy make correct decisions, than to obliterate them.”

“Even the Azrael?” Aubrey asked.

There was an audible gasp from several students. Nube elbowed her sharply.

Jar Breson studied her, his head sack inflating rhythmically. “We think that’s enough for today class. You are dismissed.”

The chamber filled with the sounds of the students gathering their things and talking.

“Why would you ask a question like that?” Nube asked.

“I didn’t…” Aubrey hesitated. “I’m just trying to learn.”

“The Azrael murdered my brother,” Nube said, her voice thick with ice. “They are merciless. They are monsters.” Her luminescent lights shifted colors from red to blue to purple in rapid succession. “They deserve worse than death.”

“I’m sorry, Nube. I had no idea-“ Aubrey stammered.

“That’s right, you didn’t. So maybe you shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand.” Nube stormed off. Aubrey watched her go, her mouth agape. She looked over at Ado sheepishly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He reached over, patting her shoulder reassuringly. “You couldn’t have. She’ll be alright… we think.”

Aubrey slumped down in her chair, pressed down by the weight of the knot in her stomach. Ado left her to her thoughts.

She heard a dusty throat clear. Jar Breson had quietly slipped into a chair in the row of seats behind her.

“Sorry,” she said, her face flushing as she slipped off her aglets and stood.

“For what?”

She hesitated. “Everyone else left, I just assumed-” she trailed off as he watched her, smiling.

“Please, have a seat.”

She sat back down, her chair turning to face him. He studied her face, his thick fingers rubbing his neck. It seemed like ages before he finally spoke.

“How have you been adjusting to life here at Bavel?”

Aubrey blinked heavily. “Fine, I guess.”

“Fine?”

She nodded her head.

“You can be honest, you know.”

She froze, like a field mouse hiding from a hawk. He watched her, patient, waiting for an opening.

“Do you miss your family?”

She nodded. “Of course I do. But I was told I was being sentimental and childish.”

“Do you think you’re being childish?”

She shook her head.

“Neither do we. Whoever told you that was either exceptionally stupid or exceptionally cruel.” His eyes unfocused for a moment. “Or both, we suppose.”

She smiled. He grinned back at her. His smile reminded her of Ado’s, warm and filled with kindness.

“A lot of people are going to tell you what to think, what to feel, how to act. But if you’re always guided by the way others think, then what’s the point of having your own thoughts? If you think like everyone else, then are you actually thinking?”

She shrugged as his words sank in.

“But, if you take the tremendous risk of thinking for yourself, you will find more truth, beauty, and happiness in the world than you ever knew was possible.”

“But aren’t some thoughts dangerous?”

“Yes. Especially here,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “But an idea that isn’t dangerous can never change the world. An idea is like a seed, that once planted in the mind can germinate into the most iridescent of blooms. Seeds of change, seeds of joy, seeds of sorrow, seeds of ruin, all can be cultivated. And you, as the gardener, choose what to pluck, prune, and nourish.”

“I ache for my family,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He grasped her shoulder with his two fingered hand. “We can only imagine your pain.”

“Nam Rood told me to just forget them, that they’re dead and gone. But how do you forget something like that?”

He smiled. “You don’t. You never forget. You carry them in your heart. The challenge is to free yourself from your memories, to not allow them to control you. But my dear child, you will never forget.”

Tears slid down Aubrey’s cheek.

“But we will tell you a secret.” He leaned in close. “People who have been hurt are the most dangerous people of all. Because they know they can survive anything.”

She smiled, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

He clapped her on the back. “Now, we believe you’re late for your next class. We will see you tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Thanks, professor.”

He smiled as he stood and walked down the stairs that led to his lectern, his hands clasped behind his back.

The rest of her day passed in a blur. She searched for Nube during dinner, but she was nowhere to be found.

Upon returning to the barracks, she saw her friend standing near her sleep pod.

“Hey,” Aubrey said.

“Hey,” Nube replied, her eyes on the floor.

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize-“ Aubrey began.

Nube cut her off. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. You are new to this world, and I was…” Nube trailed off.

“I understand. Believe me. I know what it’s like to lose your family.”

Nube looked up at her, nodding her head.

“Want to go for a walk?” Aubrey asked.

“Sure.”

The two made their way through the winding halls.

“Tell me about your brother,” Aubrey said.

Nube’s head tilted slightly as she hesitated.

“His name was Mauta. He was thirty years my senior.”

“Thirty years? That seems like a lot.”

“Perhaps for your people, but for mine, we were born unusually close together. People frequently remarked how alike we were. Practically twins.”

“People used to say the same thing about me and my sister, Sarah.”

“Mauta and I used to spend almost all of our time together. When we were younglings, we’d play games of Nirmali on the volcanic planes of Ahman, our home world. He was brutally good. He was a marvelous fighter pilot too. He even came here to Bavel when he was my age.”

“He sounds great.”

“He was.”

They continued in silence for a moment.

“May I…” Aubrey asked, hesitating. “May I ask how he died?”

Nube’s face tightened, suddenly grim.

“He had just been promoted to Captain and given command of his own star vessel, a Dragoon class cruiser called the Eligos. He was one of the youngest Divona ever to be given command of a ship. My parents were so proud of him. On their first mission, a simple patrol of the Yamari system to investigate a reported Azrael outpost, one of the enemy, a Lebara, gained control of a lieutenant under his command. A Gish named Emes Olokun. My brother was shot in the back in the mess hall as he ate his dinner. He wasn’t even given the opportunity to defend himself. Just gunned down like some animal by a coward.”

“That’s terrible.”

Nube nodded her head, wiping away her iridescent tears. “It was. My parents were furious. They blamed his commander for not vetting the crew better. But really, it was that damned Lebara that killed my brother.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

Nube nodded. “My parents didn’t want me to sign up, but there wasn’t anything they could do to stop me.”

Aubrey and Nube both stopped walking. Without really thinking, they had made their way to bay eleven. Their Jugger, Archon, loomed over them as they stood in silence.

“Please don’t tell anyone else about my brother.”

Aubrey took her hand and held it. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Our team needs to do better,” Nube said. “This isn’t just a game, it’s training for a real war, where soldiers like my brother live and die every day.”

Aubrey nodded her head. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

The two friends stood for a long while, enjoying the silence of each other’s company, before heading back to the barracks to get some sleep.