As Merrick argues with Bao about stealing his thunder, the six of us follow the crowd of strict matching lines out into the courtyard. Younger cadets are already starting their morning drills, hopping through tires and climbing walls. Today, most squad leaders leave the recruits to do their own drill. It’s sort of a holiday.
The courtyard is between four giant buildings of the third company: the recruits' sleeping quarters to the south, the meeting hall to the north, storage to the west, and the cafeteria and charging place of the animated to the east. A track runs around the yard, with various tools for cardio and strength exercises scattered about.
We head through the hundreds of kids running about to the northern gate. We only have so much time until Third Bell, so we are running a bit ourselves.
"You nervous, Avi?" Hanson questions as we reach Gamma Hall.
Avi shrugs in their nonchalant manner. As a materialist, they are usually a big part of the entertainment for events like this. And as an ignis, they are always the center of attention. The ability to control fire is rare and always shocks any guests who come to the third company because we have four. "I can do this in my sleep." They proclaim, standing taller and shaking their head.
Kiera is the last to enter the hall, and begins with "Speak for yourself...." before trailing off as she looks around.
We are all witnessing the sight of dozens of recruits packed into rigid rows in the meeting hall all facing Corvus-3, the first platoon of the third company. They wear bright white uniforms, a contrast to the outfit's dark seams, and stood like animated, expressionless in comparison to the nervous faces of the recruits about to enter the fifth platoon. And at the head of Corvus-3 at the podium was-
"Holy shit." Hanson lets out breathy. "Commander Heron."
"Okay." Avi's voice shakes. "Now I'm nervous."
Commander Heron is the commanding officer of the third company. He rarely shows his face at events like this, especially for the fifth platoon, the back-up for the backup's back-up. He stands like a statue, hands behind his back, shaved head revealing a long scar across his scalp he had supposedly gotten from an explosion. He looks down at the crowd of recruits like cockroaches.
"Holy shit." Hanson repeats.
"What's Heron doing here?" Merrick squeaks. "Connor?" He looks to me as if I can read one of the most powerful telepaths in the world and I almost laugh.
"That brain is more than a safe, Merr. It's a safe, inside another safe, dipped in obsidian and packaged inside an asteroid in some distant galaxy."
"Thanks for the imagery." He replies. In other words, thanks for nothing.
We head to our place, which is unfortunately front and center. Avi stands in front of us, looking on the edge of a panic attack as they prepare to head onto the stage and take their place. Their uneasy is so strong, I start to shake.
I place a hand on their shoulder and state, "Avi." Then I send out waves of steadiness.
Avi gives me a small smile. Though the emotion I sent out didn't break much of their nerves, they thank me before heading up the stairs to the stage. Heron doesn't even glance at them as they take their place behind him.
But when I look away from Avi and emote wider into the crowd to soothe them, I feel eyes on me and look up to find Heron staring down right at me.
I think my heart might have just jumped out of my body and fled in terror.
Heron's gaze is hard and analytical, matching his stone of an aura that I can't break through for the life of me. Not that I want to know what fucked up things are going on in the head of the third company's commanding officer.
I meet his eyes, not daringly, but with my own analysis. What made a man so cold? I had a feeling it had nothing to do with the scar marking his skull and everything to do with his position.
He abruptly looks away, and I must imagine the sharpness of fear that flew off him. Before I had time to wonder what the hell had just happened, Bao nudged me.
"You doing that?" He whispers.
"Wh- oh." I remember the vibrations I am sending out and fib, "Nah, man." Better no one know how far my emoting could reach, even Bao. "Maybe it's Heron."
With that, the crowd seems to go silent in unison, this time because of Heron, as he steps up to the podium and states clearly into the microphone, "Ursus-3. Show me your tribute."
The tribute. Every platoon has a unique one. The fifth platoon of the third company has a statue of a brown bear with obsidian eyes. It's small, maybe half my height- which is saying something, trust me. Still, it's heavy enough to need three men to carry it onto the platform and set it in front of Commander Heron.
The man eyes the statue for a moment, an impossible silence settling on the entire crowd. I can feel the man's control try to wash over me like a sheet of chilled metal. I unconsciously brush it off, forgetting for a moment that I'm trying to blend into the crowd. I feel a stab of irritation from Heron and, reluctantly, I let my guards down just enough to-
Hello, Connor.
I start slightly, enough to have Bao look over at me questioningly. The voice is calm, almost soothing, like the animated that control public transportation. The only problem was that the voice was in my fucking head!
A sting of déjà vu tenses my muscles.
Heron circles the statue, examining something only he can see. At the exact same time he says, "Begin." the voice whispers, I've been waiting for you.
Get out of here, asshole. Maybe not the best thing to say to the commanding officer of the third company. And maybe it isn't a good idea to push the man out either, but I can't let him see too much.
I think I hear laughter just as the performance begins, but I try to focus on Avi and the other ignis as they do their elaborate, interpretive dance. Fire fills the air, and the room grows warmer. I am in awe.
The ignis use powders in their performance that change the color of their flames, discretely sliding them into their hands before sending a swirl of blue or white or green above them. Drums beat away to the rhythm of their feet stomping on the platform. I watch Avi as they go through the motions of the dance. I can feel them calculating every step, nerves still on edge, but I do my best to send out calming vibes. Their shoulder length hair, the style most female soldiers wear it, shines brightly with the flames surrounding them. The ignis surround Heron, making a ring of flames about his head like a giant halo, but the man remains unaffected, almost bored.
The dance is almost hypnotic, a mix of swaying, stomping, and flipping, all the while fire consuming the performers. They murmur something uncomprehending, sending a hum of energy throughout the hall. It's as if the entire crowd is under some sort of spell.
There's been some controversy about the third company and its connection to Selenianism. Selenianism was an ancient religion that had foundations in the black arts. Some say it was a society of cognitive arcane who preyed on humankind. Others say it was a growing uprising of arcane and norms against the System. Whatever it was, the System put it down before it could make much impact. It was rumored, however, that the old commanding officer of the third company, Kimbre, was the leader of the religion, and performances such as these reflected rituals done by Selenians. Kimbre had disappeared mysteriously ten years ago, and the System gave no sign of what might have happened to him.
That was the way the System worked. Even when you were in the midst of it, even when you were sure you were in the confidence of its founder, Ryu Harding, even when you had more badges than your uniform could hold, you were still in the dark about something. Heron probably only knew a third of the System's intent. Yet we remain loyal. Maybe it's because most recruits haven't known anything but the System, having been brought in as children, or others were in debt to them, such as Bao, whose life had been saved by the second company's first platoon during a terrorist attack six years ago. Or maybe-
I shake the thought from my head, unable to resist glancing at Heron. If he is as strong of a telepath as they say, though, he must already know. No. I tell myself. You've got this. No one knows.
So why do the man's eyes land right on me when the performance climaxes into a tidal wave of flames?
I look away, feeling like I've lost some sort of game. A chill runs down my spine and every part of me is telling me to get the hell out of there. I notice Merrick beside me grow restless, his fingers tapping away on his thigh and his breath coming out in gasps. Bao twitches to the other side of me, his hand in a tight fist behind him. The sounds of rustling uniforms and a growing sense of discomfort fill the air like storm clouds.
I curse myself a million different ways, wishing I can force my heart to stop pounding. I try emoting calm while simultaneously trying to calm myself as well, but I suddenly feel a sharp pain rip across my head like a bullet through my skull. I'm barely able to speak, much less cry out at the pain, yet I somehow remain standing.
"Connor." Merrick whispers, concern laced in his voice. He gestures to his face and I reach toward my own. My hand comes back bloody.
I’d definitely get written up for that.
But the pain is gone. My fear has floated away. The room has gone silent again. I look to Heron, but he gives no indication that it was he who stopped everything, and I don’t think he did. But who else could have?
Heron steps back up to the podium. “Now you will follow with me and state clearly your Systematic vows."
There are twenty-three Systematic vows. They all mostly state the same thing. I will follow orders. I will not question the System. I will not stray from my duty. My beliefs, my past, my life are relinquished to the System.
We might as well sell our souls.
These belong to the System and its soldiers, but the last vow is a pledge recited around the world every day, in every classroom and after every newscast, in business meetings and in farewells.
In unison, like animated, the new soldiers of Ursus-3 state, “May the System have mercy on us all.”
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