26. The Pylons

The Valley, San Teodoro, Vidako

Imperium Stellarum
September 28, 2847

Before Arc had entirely realized what was happening, the princess imperial had crashed into one of the gangers. Cassie went low, ramming her shoulder into the man’s torso while he had his leg drawn back to kick the downed cadet. She came up from beneath, taking him off balance and off his feet, and he fell backward.

For just a moment, the rest of the gangers froze in pure shock. It gave Cassie time to get into a fighting stance, raising her arms like a boxer, just as they’d been taught during Hard Burn. When the first man threw a punch—sloppy, untrained, and easy to read—Cassie ducked her head, took it on her forearms, and then lashed out with a short jab that rocked him back.

But there were three of the Infernos, or whatever they might call themselves, and the one that Cassie had dropped with her first charge was already scrambling up from the wet pavement of the rain-slicked street. His hair was soaked and slicked back from his head, and he was already cursing in Spanish. Arc couldn’t understand the words, but the tone was clear—and violent.

He realized that he was afraid. Afraid, first of all, of being hurt or killed there on the street; that one of the gangers would pull a knife, or a gun, or just that they’d slam his head into the street and break his still-healing skull open. But he was even more afraid of what they might do to Cassie. They might hurt her, or kill her, and the thought of that terrified him. Almost as frightening was the thought of seeing the disappointment in her eyes when the fight was over, if he didn’t jump in to help her, and left her to face the three gangers alone.

Arc dashed forward and threw the garment bag that contained his freshly-tailored dress uniform ahead of him, right into the face of the man who’d just risen. The ganger raised his arms to shield his face, and Arc closed, shooting low for his legs. His knees scraped across the wet pavement in a flash of pain, and then the man tumbled down around him. Arc reached for the man’s wrist, looking to lock in an arm bar, or at least to keep him from drawing a weapon, and they rolled over and over each other while the fight went on above them.

He got a glimpse of Cassie unleashing a four punch combination: a jab to open her opponent’s guard, followed by right cross, an uppercut with her left that nearly lifted the ganger off his feet, and then a final cross as he was coming down that dropped him like, as the saying went, a sack of potatoes. He also saw, just behind her, the third ganger pulling something out of the seat of his pants—behind Cassie and out of her view.

“Behind you!” Arc shouted, as he finally got a choke locked in from behind the man he was grappling with. He took an elbow to the gut, and fingernails scratched at his face. Arc knew he could hold on until the ganger passed out, but it wasn’t going to happen quick enough to help her, and for the space of an instant, he was absolutely convinced that she was about to be shot.

It happened so fast he could hardly track it. A woman came out from—somewhere—behind the ganger who was drawing a weapon. She slammed something into his back, right above the kidney, and the man’s body jerked, stiffened, and then fell to the ground. He wanted to collapse in relief, but he kept his forearm tight against his opponent’s neck until the man’s body went slack. Then, finally, Arc pushed the man’s body off him and rolled it aside to lay on the wet street.

He rolled onto one knee, gasping for breath. It didn’t seem possible, but the only people still moving on the street were academy cadets. The tech student, whose name Arc didn’t even know, was up onto his hands and knees. Cassie probably didn’t realize that she was rubbing the knuckles of her left hand with her right as she looked around, scanning the area for more enemies. It occurred to him, then, that she had something he didn’t—some kind of fighter’s instinct. That she’d probably had it before she’d ever come to the academy.

Cassie met his eyes for just a moment. “You alright?”

Arc nodded, still catching his breath.

“Good.” She turned to the fourth cadet, the woman who’d come to help them, and Arc was nearly overwhelmed with relief. Neither one of them was hurt badly, and most important of all, he hadn’t disappointed her. “Thanks for the assist, Jessica.”

Jessica—the name was familiar, now that Cassie had said it out loud. She was one of the other piloting candidates, but not part of his group of friends. She was in uniform, like them, though her cap had fallen off and rolled across the pavement. The bandages on her head were soaked, but he had a dim memory of her having auburn hair before they’d all gone in for surgery.

“I shouldn’t have had too,” she said, rounding on Cassie with the tone of a furious parent lecturing their child. “You’re not supposed to be looking for trouble, Cascada. I’m not here to back you up when you pick a fight –” Jessica bit off whatever she had been about to say next, and turned to fix Arc with a glare, in turn, before narrowing her eyes and addressing the tech student they’d saved. “What are you doing?”

At her words, Arc turned, and found that the other cadet had crawled over to one of the moaning gangers, and was going through his pockets. He pulled out a plastic bag, which, Arc saw, was filled with some kind of vibrant red powder.

“Is that spike?” Jessica asked, her voice raising again.

“N-no,” the half-beaten cadet stammered, making to shove the bag into his tunic pocket. Before he could, Jessica had stormed across the intervening space and ripped it out of his hands. He gave a panicked cry, reaching for what she’d taken, but she shoved him off.

“Sure looks like spike to me,” Jessica said. “What a mess. You!” She pointed directly at Arc. “You’re going to get her back to the academy campus, and you’re going to go directly to Commandant Marlowe’s office. If anything—and I mean anything at all—happens to the princess, I am holding you personally responsible.”

Arc frowned. She certainly wasn’t acting like a cadet—in fact, Jessica was acting like she outranked him. But that didn’t make any sense. He’d seen her around the dining hall, and clearing brush when they’d all camped beside the lake off in the Vidakan jungle. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Just show him,” Cassie said. She walked over to the first of the bags they’d dropped, and leaned over to pick it up. “At this point, he’s going to find out anyway, Jessica.”

With a noise of pure exasperation, Jessice pulled a badge out of her tunic—one that Arc had never before seen in person. “Jessice Morrow, Imperial Guard,” he read out loud. All of a sudden, everything made a great deal more sense.

That is legitimate, Iceni confirmed. I didn’t see a way of helping you during the fight, and I didn’t want to distract you, but I can verify this. Arc sent her a nearly wordless feeling of gratitude.

“My bodyguard,” Cassie explained. She walked over to Arc and shoved the garment bag he’d used as a distraction into his chest. “Come on. She’ll deal with the city police. We don’t want to be here for that.”

Arc nodded, got to his feet, and then looked down at the cadet they’d rescued. He was just as soaked as they were, but somehow, kneeling on the street, he looked even more a picture of abject misery. “What about him?”

“Given that he was obviously here to purchase illegal narcotics from local dealers,” Jessica growled, “he’s probably going to be arrested. Now get out of here, both of you—and remember, straight to the Commandant’s office. No stops, not for anything. I’ll follow once I’ve handled this.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Arc and Cassie hurried back to the main street. As they trudged back up the Camino del Soldado, beneath the soaked boughs of the live oaks and into campus, he couldn’t help but shiver—not from the rain, but from everything that had just happened.

𝝮

“The two of you,” Commandant Amelia Marlowe observed, “look like a pair of half-drowned mole rats. Here. Dry yourselves off before you sit down in my chairs.” She threw a towel each to both Arc and Cassie; Arc caught his, and used it to wipe his face, first of all. “My secretary will be by in a few minutes with something hot to drink.”

The commandant rounded her desk, then collapsed back into her chair. She watched them as they stripped off their tunics. Cassie’s shirt was so wet that it was almost transparent, and he had to glance down at his shoes, rather than look at her.