Exhausted from five hours of tutorial and test, I’m ready to be let go for the day. Instead, as we leave the classroom, Commander Hernandez hands us navy blue body-hugging uniforms from a battered folding table. Then she leads us down a long khaki concrete corridor to a large gymnasium with equipment lining the walls. I smile and inhale the aroma of athletic sweat.
Dara grimaces, a volcano ready to explode in my direction. Am I being paranoid? I don’t think so.
Margarite stands between Dara and me to keep the peace. Good luck. Only one girl washed out over the test, a serious brunette I expected to do well. Did she have second thoughts?
The commander gathers us along one wall near groups of weights. “As you saw in the recruiting video, the tournament and arena require intense physical conditioning and stamina. Because you have pent-up energy after sitting, we’ll commence your training. Spread out and give me full-body pushups, not the sissy kind. Twenty. Now.”
I move away from the others and drop to the concrete floor. Dara arranges recruits around herself, her posse, no doubt.
A stocky girl with a round, pleasant face drops next to me. “I’m Brandy.”
“No talking,” the commander says. “You move like a bunch of old ladies. Maybe we should do this with sniper fire. When I give orders, you move. In the field, sluggishness kills.”
The remaining girls drop where they are and start pushups. Several struggle to do one. Full-length pushups aren’t required in gym class.
“Roll over, knees bent, hands behind neck. Give me 20 full-extension sit-ups.”
My arms burn from the pushups, but sit-ups loosen tension in my gut.
“On your feet, grunts. Stretch like this.” The commander demonstrates leg stretches. When she finishes, she points in my direction. “Three laps around the gym. No physical contact.”
When I begin jogging, Brandy joins me. “I hear Sam’s tough. Some say she’s the best. I want to be with the best.”
I remind myself I need friends to survive here. “I’m Annabelle.”
“I know. You’re mom’s a state senator.”
“I’m not my mom, and I don’t like being reminded.”
“Sorry,” Brandy says. “I’m just trying to make a friendly connection.”
Dara joins us, moving like a nasty old truck. “Let’s pick up the pace.”
I respond to the challenge.
“Love to see Sam fight a professional wrestler in the arena without weapons,” Dara says.
“I hear she’s got the brute’s balls in a jar in her office,” Brandy says.
“Right.”
“You don’t think she’s tough?” I ask.
“Question is, are you?” Dara bumps me and receives a jolt that must come from the blue workout uniforms.
I guess Sam’s serious about no contact, though I can’t see any circuitry in my outfit that could cause the shock. I couldn’t see the circuitry in our basketball uniforms, either.
“We’ll have to do something about that.” Dara catches up. “Look, if you and I work together, we could rule this place.”
“I don’t want to rule anything.”
“Yes you do. You just don’t realize it. You and I could whip this crew into shape in a day.”
“Enough talk.” The commander opens a wide door in the back of the gym and lets in the brilliant western sun along with a blast of hot air. “You need to learn how to focus and control your energy instead of wasting it. Let’s change the stakes. Two miles. Anyone who can’t beat me washes out. Everyone outside.”
There’s a mad dash for the door. I squeeze through with Brandy right after Dara and Margarite. I squint in the blinding sun. Sweat trickles down my neck. I look around at athletic girls, many bigger and stronger than me, and at Sam. This whole mech thing won’t be easy.
“We can’t control the weather,” the commander says. “Imagine you have two miles to find cover and the enemy is shooting. This is not a jog. It’s a sprint for your life. Go!”
The commander starts running in the middle of the pack. I ease ahead, breathing harder than I want to, with sweat streaming down my back. Dara charges past along the gravel path. String-bean Margarite pumps to keep up.
Little Brandy joins me. “What’s she trying to prove?”
“That she’s better than us. I’m guessing the commander is. Let’s pick this up.” I speed up, although not a sprint, not yet.
The pack clusters behind me. While recruits jockey for position, the commander moves up. She’s tough, the best. A former marine, she looks to be in superb shape. I pick up my pace. She’s suckering us. Stocky and compact, she’s solid muscle.
Take nothing for granted, I recall from the mech tutorial. Assume your opponent has abilities you don’t know about. Anticipate them coming at you in unusual ways. I pass Dara, who can’t hold her sprint.
“Showoff,” she says, out of breath.
Margarite falls back with Dara. I keep distance between myself and the pack, which the commander now leads. She’s gaining on me.
“I can’t keep this up,” Brandy pants.
“You can. You have to.” I kick into a sprint. Keep my eye on the gravel path ahead and the pack behind. I sweat, breathing heavily.
Brandy struggles, lags behind. The commander picks up speed with each pace. I push myself into a hard sprint, eyeing the finish line near the gym. The commander passes Dara and Margarite. Brandy struggles to stay with the commander.
Hot, moist air burns my lungs, which crave oxygen. Nausea washes over me. Lactic acid builds up in my blood. I can’t wash out.
I hear the commander on my heels, gaining. I imagine her as the mech warrior after my dad and me. We’re running for our lives. A boost of adrenalin spikes my system. I kick as hard as I can to reach freedom, to do what my dad failed to do. I cross the finish line and collapse.
The commander catches me. “You have willpower, Number Two Grunt. I’ll grant you that.” She takes my arm and helps me walk off cramps that attack my right leg.
I’m panting too hard to say anything, not that I can think of anything to say.
Dara hunches over at the finish line. “Damn, you’re good. You really washing us all out?”
After the other girls finish, the commander releases me and gathers everyone around. “I have a reputation for being unpredictable. Get used to it. Don’t mistake my message or orders. Today was a test of what you bring me to work with. None of you will wash out over this run. But take me seriously when I say to push yourselves. When we complete your training, you need to be able to outrun an old woman like me. You’re dismissed. Get changed, go home and be here Friday at eight.”
She returns to me. “I have something to loosen the leg cramps. Don’t think this buys you anything, Number Two Grunt. You’re no better than the others. Maybe you’re even more trouble because you have a chip on your shoulder. If you learn to harness it, you could amount to something. If not, I don’t want you. Is that clear?”
“Hoo-rah,” I whimper.
* * *
I lie on a thin mattress in a room off the nurse’s station. I’m looking up at the commander with an IV in my arm. “What’s in this stuff, Commander?” A middle-aged nurse with dark complexion and auburn hair watches me.
“Call me Sam.” The commander continues to apply ointment to my right calf muscle. “Proprietary secret.”
My leg cramps fade almost immediately. I exhale a gutful of tension and imagine myself floating. My arm no longer hurts where she injected the memory enhancer and who knows what else. Am I giving up something that will matter to me later? “What about the injection you gave us?”
Sam chuckles. “Like this ointment, it’s not approved for general use, but it works. We’re done here.”
She removes the IV and walks out. I feel the stretch of a tether I don’t want. I shake off my weariness and this feeling of connection with the vulture commander.
I roll off the narrow bed and pull on my beige blouse and blue skorts. Wish I had something more practical and exciting to wear. I long for jeans that won’t tear and look blah all the time. At least I no longer wear the maroon collar; that is if she doesn’t make me put it on when I leave the base.
I pass the nurse’s station. There’s no nurse. In the deserted front lobby, I wonder how I’ll get home. The others have left. Are there still buses to the nearest stop a half-mile away? I step outside into blistering heat reflected off the concrete courtyard and take in a warm breath of fresh air, not quite mountain, though it’ll do.
Sam stands at the guardhouse with a short blonde in uniform. “Come on. I don’t have all day.”
Yet she seems to have nothing else to do. I run over, no leg cramps. In fact I could do another two miles, just not like before.
Sam shoves a plastic card into my hand. “Since you didn’t go home to get your transit papers, take this. I won’t have my recruits arrested for traveling without permits. Don’t you dare pull another stunt like last night or this morning. I’ll not only kick you out, I’ll strangle you for stupidity.”
I stand at attention. “I…Hoo-rah…stand–”
“That’s enough, Number Two Grunt. I know why you joined the program. I threw you a lifeline. Don’t think I won’t kick you out.”
“Aye, aye–”
“If you say sir or ma’am, I swear I’ll belt you.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t shatter my illusion that you have a brain by opening your mouth.”
I nod.
“I accept no excuse for failing to be on time except death, yours, and I won’t readily accept that. To remove all other excuses, I’m providing you an electric cycle. Make sure to charge it every night. It’s not for pleasure trips. You may use it going to school, your cop station, and here. Is that clear?”
I nod.
“You’re learning.” Sam hands me a fob for the cycle. “No training tomorrow. I have other business to tend to. Be here Friday at eight.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
I hurry through the gate before she gives me another reason to feel inadequate. I’ve always known Janine was smarter than me, but she never rubs my nose in it. Basketball gave me confidence I could do something. Now I’m in over my head, floundering.
I turn on my wrist-com to text and call Janine. I worried all day about whether she got home safe. It’s the first time I got her into trouble and couldn’t cover for her. I hope Mom isn’t too disappointed.
I can’t reach Janine, which worries me more.
The silver electric cycle isn’t new. I don’t deserve that. I’m just so pleased to have it I don’t mind. I start it and listen to the electric motor purr like a kitten. I fall off when it shoots forward and lands in the bushes. I drag it back to the road, mount and ease it forward. It takes until the end of the mech road to get the hang of riding.
When I turn and look back, Sam is watching. I’m puzzled; she’s a pain, yet she seems to care. She won’t go easy on me, and I wouldn’t expect her to. I figure all the trainees got cycles, since Sam doesn’t want us hung up with bus transfers during rush hour.
No traffic this far east: no buses, cars, or bikes. We’re too close to the Outland border.
I check messages from Janine, addressed to “rat-fink.” Thanks and no thanks. Glad you had fun. Traitor. Rat-fink cubed. Did you drop into a sinkhole? Rat-fink to the tenth power. Where are you? Miss you. Rat-fink to the googol power. No, really, where are you? Sorry I called you rat-fink. Don’t be mad at me. I quit the team and volunteered five days for the cop intern program. Lieutenant Brooks is great. Where are you?
On my way, I text her, and I kick the cycle into high gear. I thrill at a cooling breeze through my sagging curls. If nothing else, the mechs gave me this cool toy. On the empty road, I kick it up to 70. It’s like traveling supersonic. Seeing lights ahead, I slow. I don’t need a ticket, or worse, cops taking my cycle away.
I set the speed governor at the speed limit and nearly fly over the handlebars when the cycle breaks to bring me down to 40.
I keep my eye out for Morgan. Did you make it this far? Stay clear of the mech base.