Chapter 39: Volume II: Chapter 6: Training

Chleo stared at the piece of wood surrounded by a sea of metal. Will’s new hobby produced a roughly whittled owl made from the scavenged materials of their old board. It sat framed on the helm of the new one, and was easily her favorite part.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” she said, thumbing her own watch open for a change. “We’ll have luck on our side.”

“What do you need luck for?” Mic asked making her jump. He sauntered into the room with the presence of a high-born and the suaveness of a Boca Run player. “You have me.”

He reached a hand out to ruffle her hair, a mug of some ridiculously sweet and bitter smelling liquid that once may have been coffee in the other. She ducked around it with a smirk. He laughed.

“You’re getting faster.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

He walked around the board, running a hand along its length. A satisfying sliiink followed as he slid it off the end.

“What are we working on today?” he asked, eyes bright with appreciation. It took them three tries before he approved of the shape and weight. He refused to teach her the properties necessary for the thrusters until he deemed the craftsmanship sufficient.

She rolled her eyes at the memory before shooting him a smile. “I was thinking we could test the thrusters a bit more. Then start on the cloaking.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Test a bit more? Chleo, we’ve been running them through their paces for two weeks. They’re fine.”

“You wanted perfect craftsmanship. I want perfect thrusters.” She tried her best to mimic her mom’s infamous stubborn face, an immovable expression, that once seen, shook the viewer’s resolve into nothing. 

 Mic took one look and laughed. She must not have done it right. “Fine,” he said. Maybe she had. She broke into a smile. “Star’s end, looks just like her,” he mumbled turning his back on her to check the testing track.

Chleo pulled the board off the rack, slipping the control gloves over her fingers. Replacing the pedals felt odd. It was hard to believe something completely disconnected could control anything much less the thrusters. Once she started trusting them, she saw the appeal. Plus, it made standing and running through her maneuvers easier.

The look on Mic’s face the first time she tried a corkscrew was priceless. She made a fist with her left hand, and the board jumped a few centimeters higher. Her fingers straightened, and it stopped. Chleo stepped on when Mic threw her a thumbs up. Making a fist with her right hand, she shot forward. She wondered what faces she could get him to make this time.

~*~*~

Will woke early. It was the day. He could feel it. Training began in an hour, and he was sure it was the day he would finally win a sparring match.

He consoled himself for his previous losses by remembering the pip-squeaks had a biological advantage. If he could beat one of them, even if they were ten years old, people like his uncle wouldn’t be a problem. His hand reached unbidden to trace a small white scar on his neck.

Taking a determined breath, he rolled out of his sleeping bag. Chleo was right. He’d never slept so well in his life.

Using the hour before to grab a quick meal and run through a stretching routine Merk threw at him after his first day with a laugh and gruff, “Trust me kid, you’ll need it,” he made it to the practice field with time to spare. He took a few extra minutes to stretch out his shoulder, still a little stiff from a gunshot wound on Luna. After a few injections from Dai, it was almost back to new.

He jumped in place trying to ward off the morning chill as the sky beyond the obstacle course showed the first signs of dawn. The air lit orange as the first recruit joined him. “Alright there, Novi?” It was the nickname he’d picked up once the recruits started talking to him.

No one spoke to him for weeks. He didn’t blame them. They were kids, and he was an ancient interloper who couldn’t face climbing the flagpole without at least one whimper.

The day they began Beekeeping it changed. The Pride assigned to them for the session ordered them to take out their Zap sets. Will scrambled to get his out of the pouch he kept them in. Dai gifted a set to him after carrying their bags for the shopping trip.

“Keep them close,” she’d said. “You never know when you’ll need them.”

She was right. Almost everyone stood with their sets at the ready, the last boy in the row patting urgently against his pockets. Green spilled off his skin as his anxiety rose. Will watched fascinated to see the effects he’d only read about in person.

Their Pride for the day had yelled something sharp in Neonian. The kid’s green pulsed brighter. He dropped to his stomach, pushed up to a clap, and fell back down. Will lost count after 100. Some time after, there was another clipped order and the kid jumped to his feet taking off toward the obstacle course.

Will forced a sympathetic breath through his nose. Too many times, it had been him heading toward the ropes, walls, and mud lining the side of the field.

“No Pride worth a flame,” their instructor had said for his benefit and to give the others practice in humantic, Prides were required to be fluent in all languages they may encounter when on duty, “goes anywhere without at least one bee. Understood?”

“Sep, Sen,” they replied in unison, no one wanting to stand out.

“Good, we start with Zap. Once you’ve mastered the,” the instructor sneered, “toy. You’ll graduate to Beekeeping, complete with stingers. The target is there.” Across the field was a small circle resting on the obstacle course’s flag pole. Out of the corner of his eye Will caught the green recruit make it through one of the mud pits. He hoped he wouldn’t be climbing while they were shooting.

“Hit it,” the instructor said before leaning back against a cart to watch.

There was a pause. The recruits exchanged glances everyone avoiding looking Will’s way. Shrugging, he took a half step forward. He felt a few stares on the back of his head. Running may not be his strength, climbing terrified him to the point of quasi-tears, and he would never master fighting biologically superior kids, but shooting a marble at a target, no problem.

It was all about angles and knowing the environment. He licked a finger and held it up testing the wind. He smirked at the chuckles behind him. For once, during a training session, he wasn’t afraid.

He squinted at the target and sighted up. The marble poised on the tip of his thumb vibrated with energy. A bit more to the left to adjust for the breeze, he flicked. The Zap ball snapped from his fingers. One, two, three seconds then ding, it hit.

The instructor’s head shot up, clearly not expecting him to succeed. Eyes narrowed, the order came, “Again.”

Will lined up the shot. He let the marble fly. It hit.

“Again.”

Will grabbed another Zap marble and hit the target for the third time.

The instructor broke into a grin. “Your Bees, recruit.” He held out a bag. Will took the few necessary steps to grab it before falling back in line.

“Nice shot, Novi,” one of the boys whispered his way. He almost dropped the bag in surprise.

One Neonian command later and everyone shook themselves from their the-human-was-good-at-something daze. There was a mad scramble before they lined up their shots and flicked. No one hit the target the first time, or the second.

Everyone was still shooting by the time the green recruit started climbing. He returned with a couple of new bruises to show for it. By the end of the day, only two others had earned their Beekeeping bags.

Smiling at the memory, Will turned to greet his orange companion. “This is the day. I can feel it.”

The kid raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, with Lute around, I’m surprised you came,” she said still lacking the subtlety of an adult.

Will felt himself flinch despite his attempt to suppress it. “Yes well, I was recently told I can’t be afraid to celebrate Lux Diem if someone threatens to block out the lights.”

The kid gave him a blank look. “Lux Diem?”

Will laughed. “It’s a- nevermind. It means Lute isn’t going to scare me away from something I want to do.”

The kid blinked brighter as she understood. “It’s like zomshiro. Er,” her brow furrowed as she tried to find the right translation, “If someone cuts down the tree, you find the bull.”

Will opened his mouth to ask before changing his mind. “Sure, kid. It’s like zomesheerow.”

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She laughed at his pronunciation as more recruits joined them. “Ready for the obstacle course?”

“Never.” Will smirked over a groan as he spotted the day’s Pride heading their way. He was halfway across the field when the whistle blew. Everyone took off.

Over the wall and through the mudpit, to the recruit’s flagpole they went. A few other obstacles stood in their way, but those were the worst, in Will’s opinion. The wall shook and shifted, changing good holds to nothing in seconds. The mudpit sucked at his hands and feet, creating sinkholes that were solid the day before. Then the flagpole, freshly greased, would glare down at him daring him to try to climb it.

Always last to arrive, the others would stand and watch as he struggled higher, constantly fighting the voice in his head insisting he was going to fall to his death. A few times, he caught wristlet counts passing hands among the recruits when the voice was half right and he fell.

“This is the day,” he muttered as his hand slipped down a few inches. His grip tightened and it stopped. Three big pulls and he would be at the top. Only a little more and he would be able to start his first evenly matched sparring session.

It took him a while to figure it out. Then after he noticed, he had to learn how to use it to his advantage. The other recruits always sparked a little brighter before they attacked.

The first few weeks, he was too busy trying to stay on his feet. Noticing anything other than the glowing fist flying up at his face seemed impossible. Slowly, his movements sped up and he was able to pay more attention. The slight shimmer, a response to their increased adrenaline was enough to give them away.

The day before he was able to dodge enough punches to give himself some confidence. He pulled himself higher on the pole. A breeze hit his hand, chilling his grip, matching the familiarly cold terror stiffening his spine. Why was it always heights? Two more and he would take his shot at practicing his counter attacks.

He yanked himself higher, his feet slipping until he clamped them tighter. Focusing despite his racing heart, he pulled again. He clenched his teeth, reaching a frozen hand up to grab the ball at the top of the pole. Making a mad swipe to his right, he stretched his arm out as far as it would go to touch the flag waving entirely too far away. His fingers scraped the edge.

Immediately, it attached, wrapping itself around his hand. The first time it happened he’d let out a very manly gasp and fell. This time he welcomed the fabric, knowing it signaled the end of his obstacle course torture for the day… as long as he didn’t mess up, at least.

The flag released his hand after confirming his identity. It whipped back into the breeze as he loosened his grip to start a slow slide back down the pole. Touching down, he caught his results printed in the fabric before it glimmered back to white.

Novi

1.25.89

He let a smile touch his lips as the last of his fear bled from his feet into the ground. It was his fastest time so far, beating his old one by almost fifteen minutes.

“Good, now that the Novi,” the Pride smirked at his nickname. Will caught on early that it wasn’t the most flattering moniker, but he traded his embarrassment for the relief that accompanied acknowledgement, “has joined our ranks, we can finally start the day’s lesson.”

Their Pride led them to the sparring circle shouting pairs as they went. The recruits scrambled to find their partners before they arrived. Failure would see them repeating the obstacle course instead of the highly anticipated end of the cycle sparring tournament.

Will found himself next to a small red boy who went by the name Jesh. He caught his orange friend from earlier sneak a look back and smirk. His eyes rolled as he threw her an exasperated smile. No one would be winning any wristlet counts betting against him if he could help it.

“This is the day,” he muttered.

“What?” Jesh asked sending him an odd look.

“Nothing.” Will cleared his throat. “Just a human thing.” He shrugged trying to brush off the attention.

Jesh was small. Will had no doubt it was the reason they were paired so frequently. The recruits weren’t known for their strength control and some of the bigger kids could snap his bones if they weren’t restrained.

It wasn’t necessarily a benefit in Will’s eyes. The runt was still twice as strong as him and faster than the others. He had to be to keep up with the rest. They approached the sparring circle and gathered around its edge sticking close to their assigned partners.

“Jesh, Novi,” the Pride shouted, “begin.”

Will dropped into a roll across the circle’s newly lit boundary and into Jesh’s path. He felt the wind from the kid’s fists fly over his head before he tripped over him falling into a graceful somersault and popping back onto his feet. Will barely stood before a red blur charged him.

The blur pulsed right. Will dodged. It pulsed left. He dodged again. A foot flickered, his opening. He jumped grabbing Jesh’s shirt as his foot swept underneath him. Will yanked while he was off balance and rammed a knee into his stomach.

Jesh stood stunned. Will wasn’t sure which hurt worse, his knee or the kid’s stomach. Based off of the slightly dazed but unconcerned face staring back, he assumed his knee.

“You hit me,” Jesh said still processing the unlikely event.

“I’m going to hit you again,” Will said from the defensive position he refused to yield.

Jesh’s face creased in an indulgent smile. Will hated it when the ten-year-olds were condescending. “We’ll see, Novi.”

The kid’s fist pulsed. Will dodged. His other fist pulsed. He dodged again. The pattern continued, Will bobbing away from punches and using Jesh’s off-balanced kicks to get his shots in.

Will caught sight of the timer glowing through the grass in the center of the circle. Only five minutes had passed, and he was starting to lag. Exhaustion from the obstacle course and his constant weaving set in and began to pull on his limbs. Jesh still looked fresh, his glow shining without a hint of dimming.

The kid’s posture changed. Will realized a second too late. He caught the telling pulse of his foot and moved to land another hit. Jesh immediately reversed, fist pumping brighter as he switched from a kick to a punch landing square on Will’s jaw. His head snapped back and the world spun as he suddenly found himself flat on his back.

He blinked. The timer in the center switching to a solitary one. Will blinked again. The timer flashed 2. Groaning, Will rolled to his knees, careful to move away from his opponent. He couldn’t let the count reach three, or it would all be over. Crouching back onto his heels, he stopped the count ducking under Jesh’s charge.

“This is the day.” He blinked the fog away trying to focus. Jesh over shot his initial attack, but recovered quickly. His foot pulsed. Will forced his hand to move.

It latched onto Jesh’s leg as he ducked into another roll. He yanked. The momentum sent Jesh flying. Mid-air the kid spun ready to land. He hit the ground perfectly balanced sliding to a stop poised for a charge.

The buzzer rang.

Jesh and Will looked up surprised. The circle dimmed to nothing, the timer frozen on seven minutes, Jesh’s back foot barely brushing the grass outside the boundary. Will jumped to his feet, success knocking the aches from his new bruises out of his mind.

He won.

His mouth fell open, stunned. He couldn’t believe it. The other recruits looked on, unmoving. They couldn’t believe it either. Jesh’s face twisted into a scowl.

Rolling his eyes, the boy slunk off to the side, crossing his arms in a pout. Slowly, the other recruits shook themselves. A low grumble went through the group as the day’s Pride approached Will.

“Novi, well done,” he said a proud spark lighting his eyes in an otherwise stoic expression. Will caught some wristlet counts transfer. His orange friend from earlier glowed brighter as she checked her balance, mouthing the words, ‘This is the day,’ with a quick smile his way.

“Follow me,” the Pride said, seemingly oblivious to the recruits’ antics.

“Sep, Sen,” Will said as he fell into step shooting a questioning look at the back of the trainer’s head. With a sharp command in Neonian, the next pair jumped into the ring to spar unsupervised.

“The others tell me you have improved,” the Pride said as he led him toward the forest outlining the training field. “They say you are a natural Beekeeper.”

“Mah ta, Sen,” Will thanked him, unsure where the conversation was going.

The Pride sniffed, a derisive sound echoing through the leaves. “We shall see, Novi.”

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