43. Know Your Enemy

Academy Hill, Vidako

Imperium Stellarum
November 3, 2847

“I feel like an idiot,” Cassie complained, as she paced back and forth before the secretary’s desk, just outside the commandant’s office. Though outside Montalban Hall, the binary stars of Vidako beat down mercilessly, here the air was air conditioned to a pleasant chill.

Arc watched her from his seat in one of the three chairs that had been set up against the wall for cadets to wait in. Cassie’s hair hadn’t quite grown back enough to truly hide the glint of silver tracery along her scalp, and the metal of her neural lace flashed beneath the overhead lights as she moved. She was clearly a bundle of nervous energy, and she wasn’t even the one that Commandant Marlowe had called in.

For his own part, Arc felt the familiar unrest of nerves in his stomach, and tension in his chest. It was just like when he’d been called to the office in primary or secondary school back on Zurah, only ten times worse. During those days, the worst he’d had to fear was being forced to stay for after school detention, and the grief his parents would give him over it once he got home. Now, not only was his career in the imperial fleet on the line, but his entire plan to go after the pirates who’d killed Phoebe, as well.

The thought struck him. When, exactly, had he begun thinking like he actually had a career at stake—as if this entire school, and the imperial fleet, weren’t simply means to an end? Was it the first time he’d gotten in the cockpit of Tyro unit seventeen, and realized that he actually liked piloting? Was it when he’d woke up to an entire other person, riding along in his brain, who he was responsible for? Or had it happened the first time that he’d kissed Cassie?

“Come and sit,” he said, leaning forward and reaching out a hand for her. “You’re not the one in trouble here. I am.” He ignored the look that Marlowe’s secretary shot his way when Cassie paused in her pacing, took his hand in hers, and allowed herself to be drawn back to the empty seat at his side.

“I just feel like this is my fault,” she said, leaning up against him and lowering her voice. “I’ve been taught all about this, and I still fell for it.” Cassie’s voice was laced with bitterness and anger, and not a little guilt. “I should have known that none of the upperclassmen would actually want a mole rat at the officer’s club. At least Ireti helped me get out of there.”

She gave a slight shudder, and Arc could feel it when she moved against his body. “Even then, I thought Radecki was just one more creep looking to set himself up with a princess. I didn’t ever think he’d do something like this, Arc.”

Arc sighed. “I had a bad feeling about him from the beginning,” he admitted. “The way he looked at you, the way he ignored me when we were together. It was like he was trying to make me feel so uncomfortable and out of place that I’d leave. Or at the infirmary, when he waited and walked you back, but just left me to find my own way. It was obvious. But I didn’t want to say anything to you.”

“Why not?” she asked, sitting up a bit and turning her head to look him in the eye.

“Because I didn’t want to come off as jealous,” he admitted. “Or controlling. He hadn’t really done anything I could call him out on, and he was making sure to be nothing but nice to you.”

“Arc.” Cassie reached up with both hands to cup his face, and to trace her fingers through the short fuzz of his hair. “You have nothing to be jealous about. You are the only person in my entire life who ever chose to be my friend before knowing who I was. I’m not sure you have any idea what it feels like to know that you don’t want anything from me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Arc said, reaching out to put one hand at her waist. When Cassie’s cheeks flushed, he considered himself to have achieved victory.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Hayes seems to be ill, Iceni pointed out, after a quite deliberate cough came from the secretary’s desk. I would recommend remaining at least two meters distance from her at all times, so as to reduce the possibility of infection.

“Iceni…” Arc shook his head, and reluctantly withdrew his hand, settling back into his seat.

“Lyra isn’t the best at interpreting human social interactions yet, either,” Cassie admitted, as she settled back in next to him. “Anyway. I was trying to warn you exactly so you didn’t get trapped like that—and he still outmaneuvered me.”

Arc sighed. “We got taken by surprise. This guy started a fight we didn’t see coming, and he had a plan. Of course we got the worst of it in the first engagement.”

“It wasn’t a battle, Arc,” Cassie said. “Just a jealous piece of shit trying to throw his weight around.”

“It was absolutely a battle,” Arc said. “And now that we know we’re in a fight, we’re going to win the next one.”

Before either of them could say anything more, the door to Commandant Marlowe’s office swung open. She stepped out far enough to hold it wide with one hand, while keeping her gaze locked on Fletcher Radecki, who stepped out just after the commandant and then paused when his eyes found Arc and Cassie sitting together in the outer office.

“On your way, cadet,” Marlowe said firmly.

The upperclassman hesitated for just a moment, half turned away from the door into the corridor and toward where Arc and Cassie sat, as if he might say something. But he must have thought better of it, because under the commandant’s watchful glare he finally made for the door, opened it, and left the room.

Once the door had clicked shut in Radecki’s wake, Arc exhaled. He’d been half ready to jump up out of his seat.

“Sandhurst, you’re next,” Marlowe said, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think I called for you, Sabran-Solaris, but I suppose you’re so wrapped up in this nonsense that you might as well come in too.”

Arc stood up at the same time Cassie did, the two of them releasing each other’s hands by common consent. He let her go into the commandant’s office first, and then followed. Marlowe closed the door behind them, then walked around her desk to settle into her own chair.

“Be seated,” she grumbled. “Between the two of you, you’ve been spending an unusual amount of time in my office. In most cases I’m familiar with first year cadets from their files, you know.” She reached up and flicked a finger across one of her two screens.

“I have Cadet Iyer’s report on your patrol,” Marlowe went on. “He says that you killed a cornibus with a plasma blade to the throat.”

“Yes, sir,” Arc said. There wasn’t exactly any reason to deny it.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Cassie said, turning to face him with a grin.

Arc squirmed in his chair. “I would have,” he said. “But then we sort of got distracted by other things.”

“No, no, no,” Cassie teased him. “You don’t get out of this! You didn’t want to take one, and I insisted, remember? Let me hear it. ‘Cassie, you were right. That plasma blade saved my life. Melee weapons are just as good as lasers…”

“That is blatantly false,” Arc grumbled. “Melee weapons have severe limitations when a Culverin can core your cockpit with a railgun slug from a mountaintop twenty klicks out.”

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“Admit it,” Cassie pressed, poking his chest with her finger.

“Cadets,” Commandant Marlowe snapped. “You can flirt on your own time.” She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “We get one or two of these every semester—sometimes more. A couple of cadets start to feel like one or two rides in a cockpit makes them the god of mechs, and the first time someone says something stupid, it’s a ‘matter of honor.’ It isn’t. And it’s my job to talk everyone involved into making an apology.”

Arc exchanged a glance with Cassie. “I’m not certain that’s going to work this time, sir,” he said.

“No?” Marlowe raised her eyebrows. “Let me be very plain when I say this, Sandhurst. One trip into the jungle and a few hours cockpit time does not put you on the same level as a second class cadet who’s qualified to ride a Kestel. Have you run a single zero-g sim yet?”

“No, sir,” Arc admitted. “But the surface of Chel isn’t zero-g. It’s only low gravity.”