Indelible: Alliance, #3

By Kadee Carder

Concealed identities. Puzzling truths. Cryptic alliances. Amid hasty exits and curious arrivals, Saylor pursues the answers haunting her conscience.

Dealing with the consequences of her decisions, will Saylor find herself invincible, or drawn even closer to Breame's conniving promises? And with humanity's existence at stake, will Saylor advance toward the brimming war, or succumb to the battle bubbling in her blood? Saylor must decide. 
​
Humanity will always be worth fighting for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Addison Multimedia
• Release date: Mar 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215306079

Kadee Carder

Fierce yet sparkly, I rally seekers to thrive in their stories. The goal is magic, the medium is ink, and the fuel is coffee. And sometimes pizza. I teach English on the university level when I'm not dancing around the living room with my family, lifting heavy at the gym, traveling the planet, or watching superhero shows.

Book preview

Chapter One

Where We Left Off

QUITE OFTEN WHEN RUNNING sprints on the training field, I would delight in the portion leading me against the wind. In that segment I knew the run would be more challenging: my will versus the mighty arm of the airstream. I'd brace for impact, pushing through, fierce and determined, hair flying, sweat dripping down my elbows. I'd expect the hassle and fight it, eyes blazing with gratitude and power.

It was in the downwind sprints where I found the most trouble, expecting the breeze to push me along. Instead, each time I’d discover I ran on my own, feet plodding the dry brush, me against the cosmos. Those barren stretches were the hardest.

And that's where I found myself, panting, sixty feet underground in a charred room filled with ashes and soot.

It happened so fast.

Then everything went dark.

Chapter Two

Mine

SHE’S CONSCIOUS ON a certain level. I’m not sure why she isn’t responding to treatment.

Do we need to increase pain medication? Decrease it? Is she feeling pain? Can she hear us?

I believe she may be able to hear us, so keep talking to her. However, her resting heartbeat stays consistent around one hundred beats per minute, which is higher than normal. She seems to have developed a form of chaotic atrial tachycardia, but I’d like to do more testing. Pain levels are undetermined.

What is chaotic — is that a permanent heart condition?

I may be able to treat it. Again, it is still undetermined until she wakes.

Okay. The Commander’s voice boomed around the room. Yes, that was his sigh and shifting cologne. He’d had bacon that morning. Mmm, bacon. Keep me informed. Notify me of any changes.

Yes, sir.

Footsteps tapped in an even tempo across the room, fading away. One shoe squeaked with a leathery, chirpy whine every other step.

How’s that shoulder pain, sir? Feeling better?

The doorknob shifted in its round socket.

Doing much better, the Commander answered. The therapy exercises are helping quite a bit.

Good to hear, sir.

After the door clicked shut, a new, soft silence fluttered across the room like waves, washing over me and hitting the back wall of the room. I supposed I was back in one of those underground hospital rooms. Why did the room have to be so dark? The idea of being buried underground again weighed upon my chest. Layers of rock, sediment, mounds of grass, tree roots, and innumerable worm bodies wiggled around just inches from my face. One deep tremor ripped from the base of my spine and down into my toes, which seemed to disappear into a drab, numb warmth. Where were my toes? And thinking about that, where were my fingers? Those little prickling sensations I was so acquainted with having, of quickly tossing each knuckle up and down to shimmy through the shudders seemed to be hazy memories and impossible exploits. In fact, where were my arms? Thick and heavy. Impenetrable. Maybe they weren’t there?

Unable to sigh, I listened to the settling stillness, accepting any movement as an indication I continued to live, existing as more than a mass of thoughts floating through the breadth of time and space. Of course, I’d accept that as an answer as well. I’d given myself the injection. What was in the serum? My own body had to deal with its repercussions. Was I alive? Was I dead? Was this the next step?

Creaking, the door clicked and tip tapping shoes skipped toward me.

Saylor.

Denise!

They made french toast for breakfast today. I had some. You better wake up before they stop cooking.

My body depressed under warm, soft skin — leaning against what I think was my arm. Her breath smelled of sugar, melty butter, and salt.

And bacon. What a special day.

Her voice silenced.

If I’d had a mouth at that point, I would have curled the edges up at her. Gimme some o’ that toast.

Well. Okay.

Her skin dissipated and my body bounced back.

I have to go change and do some classwork. I’ll be back later. Chapter eight is calling my name, and I am dying to know how Mrs. L’Engle will explain the sea with its deepness. You’d think the unicorns would be different. Whatever. And by the way, I’m going to need you to tell Logan to stop giving me a hassle about how I say ‘bayou.’ It’s a ‘by-oh.’ The by-oh. The by-oh runs under the bridge. He needs to deal with the fact that I say it right and he says it wrong. So put that on your list.

I would have given her a look that pointed out she was saying it wrong. Her pause offered plenty of time for me to respond, but I wasn’t sure I even had a tongue to click at her.

Okay. Well. You just lay there some more. Denise sighed. Disappointment slithered through the ensuring silence. I’m going to start fining you for every day you stay asleep. I am in need of a new shirt, and I may start commandeering your points.

I’d have told her to go ahead and use them, but I wasn’t sure I had a mouth.

Well . . . She waited several moments, or at least the time seemed to pass like several moments underwater, amid the wavering hush. See you later on, girl.

GO-R BACK TO YOUR OTHER patients, then. Just don’t tell the Commandah. I’m taking her out for the afternoon. One hour. Tops.

That lovely, sun-shining-through-the-branches-of-leafy-trees voice. That sparkling sip of bubbly punch. That cool breeze sifting across my cheeks and tantalizing my lips.

Corporal, you cannot simply stroll out of here with her.

I know-r. That’s why I’m asking for your help. We put her in the chair, wheel her out, and I’ll have her back before anyone knows.

There are monitors and release forms, and the Commander wants hourly updates.

Fine. For this hour, write, ‘Sleeping’.

The medic sighed. Hee hee. The guy knew he was losing the argument. Let me prep her to disconnect some of the machines.

She is breathing on her own. She doesn’t even need the oxygen.

It’s a precaution.

She needs to be pushed. I’ve seen her like this. She has to want to wake up. I’m going to show her what she is missing.

Sir. The medic lowered his voice. You might want to see the counselor. Being in denial about her circumstances will not make them easier for anyone.

Footsteps. Ruffling noises. Shifting papers.

What can I unplug first? Tucker. That guy. I’d laugh if I could. A little chuckle at least.

Stop that. Quicker footsteps. A hand being slapped. Do not touch those cords. I will work on this.

Let me help.

The second voice huffed out a deep, frustrated puff of air. You go get someone to assist you. Two people need to be with her if you insist on taking her out of the building.

Fine.

Pause. Footsteps clunking away to the far side of the room, and then drawing close again. Fabric swooshing.

Do not call the Commander.

I’m not calling the Commander.

Do not touch that call button.

No, sir. A sigh. Footsteps. I will be back soon. If it just so happens she’s not here, well, I’ll keep it to myself for twenty minutes.

DENISE! HOLD HER FEET steady. Tucker grunted while my blobbiness wobbled and bobbled.

I’m trying! These stairs are steep, man! Denise also grunted.

There are only six stairs.

There are only six stairs, Denise mocked, lowering her voice and twisting it so that the echo resounded as a clownish façade coated with syrupy sarcasm. This is a person in a reclined, special wheelchair thing, man. The wheelchair weighs more than me.

No-r it doesn’t. And I’m holding the weight. Just push. Hold her feet steady.

The chair bumped in a jarring way, and my head seemed to nod against my chest.

Denise! Tucker exclaimed. Push!

Sorry!

SEE, THERE? TUCKER’S breath drifted through the void. Feel it? Hear it?

Inundating the darkness, pounding, rippling waves crashed into rocks, shunted and swinging back onto themselves. Crashing molecules and sound waves reverberated every which way. The color blue. Fingertips gripping freedom. Cool air stroked my cheeks. I found that idea enlightening, because knowing I could feel my face made me feel more human. Briny, tangy air nibbled upon my nose, tingling with spectral shadows of rocking, rigging, laughing into infinity, and stale bread.

You’ve got to work past whatever is holding you back, Saylor, Tucker added. I know-r — I don’t know-r what you are dealing with in there, but I’ll back you up and help fight whatever battle is raging behind your eyelids. You can beat this. Open your eyes.

Footsteps kicking pebbles, crunching along concrete. We need to get her back, Denise whispered.

Give us a few more minutes. Keep watch. I think she needs some time out of that room. She needs fresh air.

I know. Three more minutes. I’ll time it.

Plodding away.

Tucker’s presence lingered nearby. I’d give you more time but we are running out of it. Breame’s deploying a whole new line of attack, Saylor, and it’s bigger than any of us knew. We need you. We found Micah, tracked her, and a search and rescue operation is underway. Your dad, Logan, we’re — ah — you complete the set. You need to fight this.

Electric nerves tingled at my side. His fingers slid over my hand, drawing it out of the murky depths. His pointer finger circled around the back of my skin, swirling an imaginary design and the collection of atoms underneath it awoke. You need to come back. Can’t queet now. Nevah queet, Saylah.

THE BIGGEST FIGHT LAY before me. A coup of wills and deadened nerves laying shattered upon a shadowed, glassy plateau.

I was stuck.

In crossing that boundary between the dark side of the moon and the light, the nightfall clung with consuming pressure.

I had to wake up.

I wasn’t sure I knew how.

TAKING TURNS, EACH member of our little family offered the gift of presence and encouragement. Denise danced around the room, singing made-up songs about flowers and flying balls of fire and how the world was burning — they were all very funny songs somehow — or strummed her guitar, or read from a collection of novels she’d grabbed from the Villa.

Logan insisted on reading me the Alliance guidebook or the leather-bound programming book from the Schurings. He declared he’d bore me into waking up. I know you’re thinking that you have to escape from this, he muttered. I could hear the smile on his face, though. I am going to keep reading from these books until you run out of here on your own two feet. So there.

The Commander often sat beside me, hushed, rustling papers around. He had started letting me in on the secrets behind many operational tactics. He updated me on the status of Alliance’s projects, such as the latest of his creations, the POD.

You’ve got to see it, Saylor. The training capabilities of the POD are almost unlimited. I’m especially impressed with the graphic display inside. Canaan’s team has put in their best efforts. Virtual training. I never thought I’d see the day when we’d be able to try it out.

The Commander shared other personal secrets as well.

For the record, he said one warm day, since no one around here can seem to call you Laurel, I suppose we will have to defer to honesty and habit. You created a new life here, seasoned with a myriad of people who love you. That is priceless. You seem to understand that. You have a strong adherence to your tribe. Although I sincerely wish you wouldn’t have taken this on by yourself.

That day was the beginning of the warmer days. All of them felt like the sun had drawn closer to the earth.

Tucker’s voice distinguished itself as the one reeling me in from the deep. Long tethers, round and rough, dove into the shadows to find me and fish me out. He sat and read to me also — often from some poetry books Denise asked him to read. He hated the poetry, reading it out loud in a monotonous moan, as if he were a beginning reader. After every poem he’d pause and then chuckle or sigh or mutter under his breath about how ridiculous they were. He did like Billy Collins. Now this is a guy I can relate with, Tucker stated. He understands restless nights.

Do you know-r it is two in the morning, Saylor? he asked.

He raised his voice to a falsetto, mimicking some alter ego, empirical me. No-r.

Yes. It is.

Thank you for coming to visit. I’ve been laying here all day, bored out of my skull.

Blimey, I know-r!

You ought to go-r to bed.

I can’t, Saylor.

Why not?

Because you’re here. His light-hearted tone sobered. Do you know where you are? Are you somewhere far away, like Collins wrote, riding a tricycle around your mind? Is that what you’re doing right now?

He pulled my hand toward him again. I loved when he would touch me, because my skin felt lively and real, and those extremities seemed to unfurl from their shells.

"Still haven’t said anything to the Commander about us. Seems to be the best decision so-r far. I don’t feel right about it, but I don’t know-r what else to do. By the way, why did Twila visit your room? She had no-r clearance in the dormitory. She acted odd. Something not right about that. Can you clarify?"

I tried to squint up at him with a quizzical stare.

AND THE DAYS SEEMED to pass by, me wavering in and out of conscious listening.

I’m going on shift, Tucker would say. Don’t wake up until I get back. On second thought, wake up any time, lady.

One important day, the door clattered shut with a vociferous bang.

Honey, I’m home! Denise shouted.

The leaden lump on my stomach lurched.

Denise, you could at least knock. Tucker’s sleepy, deep voice resonated beside me.

Sorry. I never know what I’ll find in here, so I like to come unannounced. There’s not a lot of entertainment around these days.

You are the entertainment around here, Tucker answered, a soft chuckle tickling his throat.

I don’t know. Maybe I am. But you are the eye candy. Keep wearing that black shirt, honey. You’re like white licorice.

Denise!

What?

Was that — are you flirting with me? The joke settled in the air, playful, but thick like stew.

"Oh, you’d know if I was flirting with you."

Obviously, I just asked if you were.

Well. Unh. Then. Psh. Denise fumbled out a loud laugh. Then, obviously, I was not.

Tucker laughed, a bit uneasy, and I giggled.

Gasps.

From all three of us.

Saylor? they asked.

Oh! My voice echoed around the room, crackling and dry. I blinked in the revitalizing light, catching the sun’s warm rays and wallowing in them. White walls, all decorated from floor to ceiling with floral drawings surrounded us, fluffy air conditioning humming in the background, and the world’s best greeting by my side.

My goofy smile had to show my ecstasy, but it didn’t compare to theirs. We were the base of the rainbow sprinting up into the sky.

Can you take me back to the pier? I whispered, feeling the soft pillow behind my head for the first time. Matted hair. Sweaty feet. Racing heart. I want to smell the ocean again.

Girl, if I knew that flirting with Tucker would get you to wake up, I’d have done it three weeks ago.

So you were flirting with me. He looked out of the corner of his eye up at her.

Honey, you the beef jerky around here. Don’t act like you don’t know it.

Zip it. I held one hand up to my mouth and acted out the words, flailing a bit as I did. Lock it, throw away the key. As I flung my hand out to the side, Tucker caught it in his.

I’ll take you anywhere, Tucker said, pulling my hand close to his lips. Name it. Pier. Beach. World’s tallest building.

Anywhere, as long as it is out of this dungeon. My voice seemed to creak, like an unused basement door.

Dungeon? Denise wrinkled her forehead.

You’re at the Villa. Tucker glided one hand along my cheek. Heat rippled along the trail of his fingers. I let my eyes wander. Those colored pencil drawings adorned three walls, three large windows filling the fourth.

That’s when the alarms began ringing. Those walls swirled around like a bucket of spilled paint. Papers creaked. Floorboards groaned. The curtains winced. Light filled the room like a tidal wave. Pounding hammers in my ears peppered the conversation with bouts of whirling nausea. The white bones of my ribs ground against my skin, hot as a gas stove boiling a pot of eggs.

The Villa burned, I croaked, blinking to quell the ruckus.

Denise, are there ice chips or water anywhere? Tucker asked.

Yeah. Don’t say anything till I get back! Denise took several steps toward the door, spun on her heel, and returned. You want a straw? Of course you want a straw. Once again she pivoted and punched her fist into the air, out the door in the blink of an eye.

I’m sure the Commander will be in, any minute, Tucker said. He’s been watching you like a hawk. Hasn’t made it easy for me to slip in to see you.

What? I narrowed my eyebrows as best I could. Why?

That cheeky grin slipped across his cheeks. Because I can’t let him know the girl I’m wild about is his daughter. He slipped both hands around my right hand. What do you need? What can I do? Do you want to know-r what’s been going on? How do you feel? He breathed out, the smile drifting away, hollowing out onto the plateau between delight and disquiet. Dark circles under his eyes gave away some secrets.

I want you to never stop talking to me. Tell me anything. And just be with me. Hold my hand.

He squeezed his grip a little, and lowered his forehead onto my stomach again, burrowing into the thick, soft sheets.

You’re back, he whispered against the fabric.

You helped me get here. I swallowed the thick liquid in my confused throat.

Tucker raised up, twisting his head toward me. What’s that?

Still working the tension out of my unused body parts, I licked my lips, and tussled his hair with my free hand. You’re cute.

We paused for several moments. Unburdened and unbridled. Another battle behind us, a war swelling on the horizon before us. We both knew it, felt it, but I had to be able to sit up on my own before we could approach the enemy.

How did you take out all of the oxinals? he asked after the cool, quiet air settled around us.

Shaking my head, I blinked back against the faded memory, smashing those fiery, flying orbs of computing cunning. Not sure I could explain it. I sighed. Lots of swinging.

We were able to contain the remaining T3, the few that didn’t self-destruct in the Nautilus. We stabilized the environment around the fort and are in the process of bringing back the evacuees. His heart seemed to beat in sync with mine.

What aren’t you telling me?

I don’t know what to tell the Commander. I’ve been avoiding him. Can’t shake the fact that, me being me, and you being you, doing what we love — I have a feeling our commanding officers would look down upon this. He rose up from his chair, placing more weight on the mattress, and turned his face to be parallel with mine. I’m officially here on official business. It has nothing to do with your stunning blue eyes.

Footsteps thundered through the hallway outside the door, nowhere near as boisterous as my chaotic heart.

They’re coming. Breaking away from the billowy oceans sinking into my skin, I glanced toward the door.

Tucker leaned back, dropping my hand, right as the door flew wide.

I brought the cavalry with me! Denise breezed in, holding up two cups full of liquid. And breakfast is on the way!

THEY TESTED ME. I THOUGHT it had been bad before, with the endless drills and psycho X-Games, but now the aftereffects were skin pricks, prods, hustles, jostles, declarations, orders, medicines, and lots, and lots of needles. I didn’t notice many changes those first few hours but they became apparent, one by one.

Colors defined themselves against each other, contrasting sharply: red bickering with yellow about who owned orange’s hues. Blue and purple caught themselves playing in the corner of my vision, snagging my fancy, snarling images into invisible shapes when I sought them out. Footsteps thunked all around, regardless of whose feet owned them and how heavy they were. Even the shadows whispered. The air tasted like breakfast until lunch came around. When breezes taunted from the window, the salty bark crumbled across my lips. It was all I could do to stop the room from whirling constantly.

If you thought the ride down here was bad, wait till you watch the ceiling turn, I slurred to Denise as I sat on the edge of the bed. The echoing riddle of cycling walls lessened when I closed my eyes, which thawed out the crimson, curdling tension throughout my chest.

Are you okay? she asked as I fell back against the pillow. If it makes you dizzy, just lay down.

What’s that bone right in the middle of the ribs? The one that connects them. The sternum?

Yeah. I think so. She set down the clothes she’d been folding and walked over to me.

My sternum hurts.

That sounds bad.

Feels bad.

Can I help?

Nah. I pawed at the empty air, forcing my body to register the upright position. I want to walk. I have to get out of here.

I hope you mean just the hospital bed. No more crawling through tunnels.

No. I chuckled, clumsily tossing my limp legs over the edge of the bed. But hopefully the doors haven’t been turned into tunnels. Come on. I want to feel the island.

You aren’t speaking coherently. She held out her hands to stop me from falling off the mattress, throwing frantic glances toward the door and back to me.

I need to see the colors, I mumbled. And the sound. It’s hot.

ARE YOU TRYING TO GET all of the nanocomputer ANTs out, or what? I asked the medic, who continued filling the sixth vial of blood. The tube extended from the butterfly-shaped needle thrust into my right forearm, pinching through the skin. Red liquid pulsed through the clear rubber and into a vial the medic held in his hand. He held a second tube in his hand, ready to exchange it before placing the four-inch plastic into the metal tube holder on the stand next to him.

Sorry. I need ten vials for the tests we have lined up.

That’s ridiculous.

Commander’s orders.

What if I want it back? Can you put it back in?

Why do you want your blood back? The medic scrunched up his nose. Clearly he had no inkling of the pricelessness of my blood.

Closing my eyes, I ignored him and the piercing ache in my arm. As the darkness slipped around me, my senses seemed to ignite and pulse. The needle’s intrusion ricocheted around my arm’s nerves, darting up and down, back and forth. Ten toes curled under the scratchy sheets. A tiny bug crawled along the pillow next to my head, scratching against the hearty, interwoven strands of cotton. Why was the room so hot? One sweat droplet filled to capacity and tickled the side of my temple as it bowed to gravity’s heavy hand. Rage seemed to wash along each curve of my spine. What right did this medic have to steal from me? That blue-lined grid seemed to fizzle into the outline of the room, each object a mathematical equation of X and Y axes. Looking down at my form laying upon the bed, I could sense — what was it? See them? Hear them? — each microcomputer coursing through my system.

So, so many of those ANTs. They awaited instruction. Aiming toward the ANTs in the vials, I ordered a routine re-write. I could almost see them dancing in the red liquid filling those clear vials. The grid firmed up around the room, blue lines glowing in an animated version of reality.

Staring at the ANTs in the vials, I narrowed my eyes to them. Clenched my jaw in concentration.

Move upward.

They ascended in the tubes, one even rattling in its holder at the sudden rush of movement.

My chin tilted up as I considered what to do next. A devious smile flickered across my lips. Do you have high blood pressure?

He looked up at me, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. What?

Are you a person who startles easily?

He tilted his head to the side.

With a smirk, I gave the silent order. The ANTs soared upward. Seven full vials in the basket rose up into the air, flying overhead, clattering together into a bunch.

Screaming, the orderly threw his hands out into the air, the tube dropping to the ground. His rolling stool flung out behind him and bumped against the wall. He was out of the room within three seconds, and a loud chuckle escaped my lips. I lowered the vials into my lap.

Mine, I said to them, gathering the precious glass into my arms.

Chapter Three

Beacon

TAKE A STEP, POWDERPUFF, Logan ordered, arms crossed at his chest. He wore a black tee shirt and his gray PT shorts, brazen and brash, with sunglasses strewn atop his mussed hair. He raised his blue eyes to the ceiling, softening. Come on. You can do it.

From my hands and knees, I stared down at the cold, notched floor panels. They blinked back, uninterested, bored at my weakness, poking my kneecaps, unconcerned with my victory.

Get up.

I can see how Cadence fell for your warm bedside manner. My eyes lingered on the wrinkles of my own green tee shirt and gray shorts. The colors seemed to wash together and yet force each other apart with distinct lines, a tango of tints and pigments.

You’ve been hanging on to the floor for two minutes and fourteen seconds. Logan huffed out a deep breath. Aren’t you tired of letting the floor win?

I stood up too fast. My head is spinning. I panted, somewhat lying. At first the room had danced around me, but it had resettled and awaited its next move.

Do you need a hand?

No. I’d get up. I’d show him. Sliding one foot underneath me, I knuckled up and thrust my body skyward. Those thighs, though. Retching and resistant, each cell in my body seemed to bump into another. My heart sprinted in excited confusion. Pulsing fire throttled the base of my throat, and the easiest feeling to understand was anger. Intense, seething hatred for having to learn to walk again.

Sack the girl who acted on impulse.

Burn away the weakness like tall plain grass.

Logan’s callous words sliced the floor open before me, and I wanted to fall into it. Fortunately, I found the bed’s handle and gripped so tight the plastic winced under the pressure.

You are not Cadence, Logan said dropping his hands to his hips. She is a fighter, yes. You are too. You even signed up for it. You have to find your way through this therapy. Take whatever courage it was that drove you to cross the line between man and machine, and walk.

Everything is wobbly.

Okay. He nodded, looking me up and down. Find a new center of gravity. Focus on a spot on the wall or floor in front of you and keep your eyes on it.

I’m going to fall down again. My legs quaked, rocking beneath me, an avalanche of disuse and misuse.

All I’m hearing are excuses right now. Think like a warrior. Focus like a warrior. You are thinking like someone who wants to fall down. Don’t you want to see what you can do? I heard you scared the medic out of the room. Let’s see more of that. I dare you.

Logan. Shaking my head, the room began to dim with a reddish light.

Come on! he called, beginning to grow impatient. He clicked his tongue at me.

Narrowing my eyes at him, releasing the handle, I offered one foot, and then another, to the sacrifice of the empty space around me. Somehow, my legs stayed upright, and then I stood in the middle of the room. Logan took a step backward.

There! His lips curled up as he nodded his head. Not so hard, eh?

My knees buckled, as if a wave of invisible water rushed around them from behind. I clutched at Logan’s arms, and he held steady, those biceps rock hard under my grip.

I’m beginning to think you need more motivation. Shall I go find Tucker? He adapted into the twang of Tuck’s loovely toongue. See if ‘e will breeng you a cuppa joe? Seence ya like it, crikey.

Oh, stop it. I couldn’t hide the huffing laugh at his attempt. For spending so many years with him, you do an awful impression.

Logan chuckled. Come ohn, mate. Stehp. Logan tapped my elbows and shrugged away his arms. He shuffled backwards like he was creating a new type of dance.

You’re such a nerd.

Blimey. Stop muckin’ around.

He’s going to pummel you when I tell him how bad you do an Aussie accent.

Logan waved his hands, beckoning me toward him and the open door.

Shimmying within the layers of skin, those defiant bones and muscles began to accept their load. The silent grid ghosted around me, outlining the background. With a humming beat, I listened to the song reverberating inside of me. The song giggled, trembling, and followed my commands.

Step forward.

Those little microcomputers began to pull their weight, allowing firmer footsteps, a more solid grip, and increased swiftness. Step by step, they threw themselves, reckless and obedient, along their path within my veins. We had to work together. The more I focused on commanding them, the easier my toes curled against the wooden beams.

I need that programming book again, Logan. We’d made it into the hallway.

Look at that! I told you I could bore you back to consciousness.

I’m not too sure that’s how it went, I added, rolling my eyes up to the ceiling.

How’s your brain? Not losing all the guidebook rules, I hope. He continued backing down the hall, tapping his fingers on the wall.

I have more happening in my brain than you ever will.

Ooh, nice. He nodded, hues of sarcasm and provocation wrapping around the words. He tipped up his chin and stared down at me. So I guess you’re ready to work the obstacle course, then.

Hey, one thing at a time, Lieutenant.

Dare to insult your superiors and get away with it? Let’s go. Boots on the ground, newb.

What did you call me? My head whipped up.

You’re basically like a squatter. Blighter.

Take that back. I saved your hide back in the Nautilus.

Like you could do it again, Logan argued, his jaw clenching. Was that a sparkle in his eye? He folded his arms across his chest again.

You got all the mean genes. Heartless rack.

What? Logan dropped his arms. What does that even mean?

Like a — you’re like a — coat rack or something.

That’s not an insult, Saylor. His eyebrows twisted above his eyes, and he looked a bit confused. You need to work on your intimidation factor. Your words are nonsense.

Yeah well, wah wah. I sighed in frustration, losing focus on the task of walking. He chuckled. My eyes found his. Once I get my strength up, I’ll leave you in the dust. Once I get this figured out— I waved my hands up and down toward my torso, —I’ll be the one bossing you around. You’ll be the coat rack upon which I toss my jacket. You’ll be the heel, and I’ll be the thorn in it. Steel authority and stolen power, pitiless and piercing, raged silently between us. I don’t know why I was mad. But I trembled, aching to level up, to show him I controlled my power. One slow step at a time he advanced toward me until his shadow met mine.

I root for you, Saylor. He annunciated each word. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you where you need to be. That’s my job. That’s what I do. We are in this fight together. Now’s your time to break out from the doldrums and finish what you started. You can try to leave me in the dust. I want you to try it. I dare you. I understand how you work, better than anybody else. So you won’t see me slacking off or holding back. No easy wins. Give it everything you got, and then some.

No worries. I jutted out my chin. I accept your pushing. It’ll make my victory even sweeter. Like cheesecake.

Logan thumbed the sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose. Well then, sounds like go time. Coat Rack, out.

IT’S LIKE HE RELEASED the coil inside the monster. Tireless. Fearless. Wanton. Intrepid. Maybe my limbs were sore, but they yearned to be confirmed, sweat dripping down into the ridges of those surly nooks and crannies any proper lady never mentions.

Another medic had been assigned to test me further, but they borrowed no more blood. When the medic got me to sit down, he threatened to restrain me to stop my pacing. He called in the Commander to see the results of the heart stress test, which brought furrows to both their foreheads.

Her heart is racing off the charts, the medic said, shaking his head.

The Commander squinted at me, unsure. Let’s stop for the day, Saylor. You’ve made a record amount of progress. Within eight hours you’ve gone from laying in a bed, to running around an obstacle course faster than any guardsman has ever accomplished. I don’t want you to injure yourself.

Please, I argued. For the first time I can remember, I feel wildly alive. If someone is up for testing me, I’m up for the challenge.

One thing at a time, Saylor. The Commander crossed his arms. Rest now. Tomorrow we’ll let you take on Echo Company Bravo and the POD.

THE NIGHT RUSTLED. Cool air dripped around me, bouncing off of walls and into the floorboards. The Villa shuddered under construction from the fires. Distant boards down the hall rubbed against each other, familiarizing themselves with their new neighbors.

Tossing aside the covers, I followed the constant pulsing rhythm out the door, toward the night. Roaming the halls and exploring pictures, wall hangings, and how the occasional nick in the wood offered a brief story of its inhabitants, I memorized the footprint of the Villa. The Schuring’s room stood empty, lonely, the closet still filled with uniforms and shoeboxes. Ghosts re-enacted preparations for gallant evenings and unguaranteed mornings.

Footsteps creaked overhead. Stealing out of the apartment, I closed the door without even a squeak.

Logan’s voice drizzled over the silence. What are you doing? It was a statement more than a question.

Now, don’t be mad.

Why would you go in there? His silhouette cast strange shadows across the hallway.

I thought everyone was asleep. I’m sorry. I just—

Logan took a step backward. Give people some privacy. You don’t get to do whatever you please.

I know, Logan. I know. I wasn’t infringing. I — I guess I’m looking for — for goodbyes. For purposeful endings. Expecting him to argue back or wrestle with my logic, he dropped his fury to the ground.

I understand.

What are you — are you mad?

Still on night hours.

Who? You? Me?

Everybody. We’re still up and running, but with a limp. Come on. He tilted his head down the hall, and I followed him to the small kitchen, where the Commander and Tucker parked at the round table under the window.

You are supposed to be resting, the Commander commented out of the side of his mouth.

Haven’t slept. It’s like my legs want to run, and my brain wants to fly.

She was exploring the grounds, Logan added, opening up the pantry and looking inside. Found our noisy burg-u-lar.

I knew it wasn’t my imagination, Tucker said, sipping from his cup.

You want some eats? Logan asked.

I’ll eat a horse if you cook it, I replied.

Well, I can’t spare any horses right now. How about some leftover rice-bean thing?

Sounds delish. I nodded, and then shivered. Nobody noticed. I want to eat, like, a lot of flavor. Or maybe no flavor. I can’t decide which would be more satisfying.

Have a seat. The Commander waved to the empty chair. I bet Logan can make that happen.

So Logan is a chef, too?

A deep laugh slipped out of Tucker’s mouth, and he coughed on his drink. The Commander’s face lit up, and he wiped away the smile with his own small cough.

I can make my way around a kitchen, Logan said to the frying pan.

You’re a trifecta, then.

Uh, whatever that means.

I don’t know. You can fight, you have a decent haircut, and you can cook. Something about multiple personalities? A smile jostled my lips before a small laugh escaped. It’s a compliment.

It’s supposed to mean sing, act, dance. Beauty, brains, wit, something along those lines, the Commander added to the conversation. Come, sit.

What a compliment, then, for sure, Logan added.

Hey, cooking matters. I make a good egg scramble. That’s about it. I giggled. It felt satisfying and free. Perching in the third empty chair, across from Tucker, he shifted his gaze from his plate to the window beside us. I glanced down at the empty hands in my lap.

Pretty sure you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to. Tucker’s voice shocked the lull in conversation.

What? I sniffed, humbled.

With the help of Slingstreet and Bobby K, that is.

Wha — what are you talking about?

Logan snuffed a laugh. We nicknamed your helmet Bobby Knucklebridge.

Why? Y’all are weird.

Tucker’s grin shined my way. Bobby Knucklebridge came and went from Fort Prospect last year.

Where did he go?

We don’t know, the Commander appended, rolling his eyes. He sighed. One day Logan found his helmet on the classroom floor. No other sign of him. I assumed he defected, although I have no idea how he managed to slip out undetected.

I’m guessing that’s why you refuse to keep your helmet on, Logan winked at me. Bobby K’s spirit dwells inside of it, guiding you toward the oxinals.

I nodded, pursing my lips. You know me so well.

Tucker tried to wipe away the laughter on his cheeks, unsuccessful and blushing.

And what about Slingstreet? Is that my X-11?

Slugger seemed overused. Tucker raised his eyebrows at me. You needed something catchier.

Well, alrighty then.

Favorite meal, Saylor. Name it. The Commander leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.

Ah, that is hard. I rolled my eyes while tossing ideas in the air. At that second, any food sounded ridiculously fantastic. My stomach gurgled in response. I think a good, hot pizza with a lot of cheese on it wins. And maybe a steak on top. With garlic. And topped with cheese. And bacon.

I’d eat that. Logan pumped his fist in the air. Someone go find a cow. And a pizza oven.

Laughter echoed around the kitchen.

What about you? One by one, I made eye contact with each guy.

I echo the steak sentiment, the Commander said. Although I had a salmon dish in Italy that changed the way I viewed the world. Possibly, there may have been more butter than salmon in the dish.

Gross, Logan murmured. Fish. Blech.

You like fish, the Commander offered, surprised.

I’ll eat it. If we’re talking favorites, I vote—

What’s — that? Tucker interrupted. We turned to see what he was referencing, finding five distant bright orange dots of light flinging themselves heavenward.

Chairs screeched.

Butter sizzled in the skillet.

Four hearts pounded to the beat of the unknown rhythm, summoning us together and yet toward separate endings.

Logan dashed to the front porch first.

I thought they were all destroyed. Tucker spat out the words as the rest of us tumbled out next to Logan, watching the sky illuminate as the oxinals continued to churn through the air toward the pitch-black ether, leaving a slight trail of smoke in their wake.

From what we could find, yes, the Commander bit back. There must be more storage. Can you read them, Saylor?

Our eyes continued to follow the trail burning up into the stars.

They’re out of range, I said, unable to find the grid, my insides sloshing about, quite confused. They wanted to connect but the far distance stretched thin. I guess that is good news?

Or bad, Logan ventured to say.

What does that mean? I snapped at him, red-hot and rippled.

If you can’t connect with them, then what good was—

Stop, the Commander interrupted.

They need oxygen to burn, I added, ignoring Logan’s snub. They can’t get too far out there.

But where are they going? And why? Logan asked the cosmos.

More importantly, how did they get their orders? The Commander cleared his throat. The lights disappeared, dimming from view. "You three need to get rest right now. Tomorrow we push. Looks like Breame has once again upped his