Chapter Fifteen #2
A body slams into mine, hard enough to jar my teeth, and instinct takes over—I reach out, steadying us both with a hand on his bare arm.
Wrong move. I hadn’t closed my power off completely, and emotion slams into me harder than the impact I just took.
His thrill at the violence and a sharp spike of aggression flows under my skin, hijacking my pulse.
“Come on then!” I bark, shoving him harder than I mean to. The words tear out loudly, my voice not my own. The recruit stumbles, blinking at me in surprise before grinning like I’ve lost my mind. Laughter breaks from a few others as heat imbues my cheeks, covering both cheeks.
I’m too worked up…humiliated myself because I couldn’t keep my power contained properly.
Damn idiot.
When the ball drops near me, I dodge away, earning frustrated shouts from my teammates. Another player barrels right at me; I sidestep too late and get knocked to the ground where a rock takes residence in my shoulder blade.
Getting back up is easy, and I brush dirt from my uniform before retreating to the edge of the action, hoping to observe enough to fake competence. My team is annoyed with me—I catch multiple eye-rolls and exasperated gestures in my direction.
“What are you doing?” Malcolm hisses as he passes me. “At least try to block someone.”
After three more disastrous attempts to participate, I fall back even further, pretending to guard some invisible boundary while actually trying to become as unnoticeable as possible.
The sun beats us without an ounce of mercy and sweat pours down my face inside the mask.
I’m dizzy, overheated, and utterly humiliated, both eyes burning from something other than heat.
A shadow falls across me, and my head snaps to Elias standing beside me, breathing hard from exertion but not yet winded. Unlike most of the others, who are red-faced and soaked with sweat, he seems barely affected by the heat or physical activity.
“You going to yell at me or what?” I snap, frustration overriding caution. “I know I’m terrible.”
He studies me for a moment before, unexpectedly, his expression softens. “You’ve really never played shockball before.” Did I not tell him so already?
If Elias is bothered by my silence, he doesn’t show it, instead just releasing a thoughtful sound. “Just watch for a few rounds. See how the plays develop, then join back in when you’re ready.”
Before I can respond, he jogs back to the action, leaving me stunned by his acceptance of my continued incompetence. I’d expected ridicule like the Commander offers, or at least disappointment—not understanding.
But I accept his advice, studying the next few rounds with curious intensity, stunned when the game becomes clearer the more I watch.
The ball carries a mild electric charge that players can shock from one position to another on the field.
Scoring happens when the ball is in a shock position and a player manages to pass it through a specific point in the opposing team’s goal area.
It’s complex and strategic, almost like the chess I play with my father, but with the added dimension of physical prowess.
After watching three complete plays, I suck in a deep breath and rejoin.
This time, when Elias signals, I move to the position he indicates, replicating the blocking stance I’ve seen others use.
When the ball comes my way, I don’t flinch back—instead, I catch it like I’ve seen the others do, ignoring the slight sting as the charge transfers to my hands.
I pivot and pass to Malcolm, who pauses momentarily before spinning away from a defender and scoring.
“Nicely done, Ashford!” someone shouts, and a strange warmth that has nothing to do with the sun spreads through my chest.
I’ve always been a quick learner—my mother joked that I seemed to absorb knowledge through my skin. By my fifth rotation in the game, I’m holding my own, and by the eighth, I steal the ball from Kellen’s team, earning a grudging nod of approval from Darius.
It would be easy to get lost in the simple physicality of the game, the temporary camaraderie of shared purpose. To forget, for just a moment, that these men are my enemies.
I wish.
After what must be two hours of play, Elias calls for a break.
Everyone is drenched in sweat, breathing hard, many lying sprawled on the grass to recover.
My own body throbs with exhaustion—legs heavy like a soaked-through towel, lungs burning, a stitch in my side sharp enough to make me wince.
But beneath the discomfort is an unfamiliar feeling: satisfaction. I contributed. Learned. Adapted.
As the others discuss food and rest, I seize my opportunity and begin the trudge back to the center.
I need a shower and a moment of privacy to recover my composure.
More than that, I need distance from the strange mixture of disgust and attraction I feel when looking at these men with their shirts off, laughing and clapping each other on the back like they haven’t dedicated their lives to oppression.
I’ve gone maybe thirty paces when I spot him.
Arayik stands unmoving at the edge of the tree line where the path meets the compound, arms crossed. His posture is more than rigid, though whether it’s directed at me specifically or the entire gathering, I can’t tell.
My first instinct is to turn around, find another way back to the compound. But he’s already seen me, his head tracking my movement across the way. Avoiding him now would only earn a public scolding.
He nods toward the space in front of him—a silent command to which I comply without complaint. I bristle when he remains silent. What the hell is going on?
The Commander’s eyes flick over me once, his gaze lingering on the mud streaking my uniform, before turning back to watch the forest beyond. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t demand explanations or issue orders. It’s unnerving to be in his presence without beratement.
Gradually, other recruits begin trickling back along the path. They fall into formation beside and behind me, their excited chatter dying as they notice Arayik’s presence. The atmosphere shifts from casual to formal in an instant, tension replacing relaxation.
Elias and Kellen arrive last, still engaged in conversation, shirts draped over their shoulders rather than worn.
Both stop when they notice the man in front of me, exchanging a glance I can’t interpret before moving to flank him.
Kellen pulls his shirt back on in a smooth motion, but not before I notice a long scar across his left side, puckered and pale against his skin.
I don’t dare turn my head to count, but I sense we’re all here now, standing in formation before the three leaders, as the Enforcers not on our team make for the front doors.
Arayik’s voice, when it finally comes, is ice wrapped in steel. “The Syndicate has issued new orders. We deploy at dawn.”
Deploy? I can’t have heard correctly. We’ve barely begun training. Most of the recruits still struggle with basic combat maneuvers, let alone the complex tactical operations we’d need for field work.
“A rebel incursion has been confirmed,” he continues, voice flat and emotionless.
“A location in outer Pyrem harbors one or more females and displays evidence of organized defensive capabilities.” My pulse races, blood rushing in my ears.
“Our mission is direct: locate to neutralize threats and retrieve viable females for processing at Riverton.”
Such a dismissive way of saying kill her rescuers and send her to be bred.
“You have twelve hours to prepare. Pack only field essentials. We move out at 0500.” A pause, then, “Effective immediately: all variance and transit files are now restricted to leadership only. Local terminals will display as restricted until further notice.”
Arayik’s gaze sweeps across our formation, landing briefly on me before continuing. “Any questions will be addressed during mission briefing at 1900 hours. Until then, you are dismissed to prepare.”
This is it—the very mission I feared and hoped for in equal measure. The chance to sabotage from within; help instead of harm and make a difference.
But am I ready? Can I maintain this disguise under field conditions? Against real threats? With real lives at stake?
The others break formation, muttering excitedly about finally seeing action. Their eager voices make me sick—they sound like children promised a treat, not men being sent to destroy lives.
I remain rooted to the spot, mind racing through possibilities, contingencies, and dangers within them. This is happening too fast. I need more time, more information, more—
“Ashford, Spinel.” Arayik’s voice slices through my spiral of thoughts. “A word.”
Dread pools in my stomach as the others leave me with Corin and the three leaders. Whatever this conversation is, it can’t be good.
Nothing is ever good with the Commander.
“Your performances during training have been…” Arayik pauses, as if searching for the right word.
“Inconsistent.” Neither me or my fellow recruit offer a response, and he continues as Corin fidgets, “Under ideal circumstances, I’d remove you both from the team as you haven’t improved nearly enough in the the week I gave you.
Under normal circumstances, you would require at least another month of conditioning before field deployment.
” How does one train their voice to be so emotionless? “Neither are an option any longer.”
Elias shifts, drawing my attention. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a tension in his shoulders I haven’t noticed before. Kellen stands perfectly still, watching the exchange without input.
“Ashford, you will serve as our Empath support during this operation.” I want to roll my eyes because what the fuck else would I do?
“Your ability to influence emotional states without contact will be valuable when dealing with potentially hostile females. Some may resist collection to the point of self-harm.”
Collection. As if women are items to be gathered and stored. I swallow hard, forcing down a surge of rage that threatens to scream at him.
“Spinel, you will remain outside on perimeter watch. Both of you will be under direct supervision at all times,” he adds, stepping closer until his mask occupies much of my vision.
“Any deviation from orders, any failure to perform as required, and you will be removed from the team. Permanently. Is that understood?” The threat is clear: we won’t be returning home if we fail this.
“Understood, Commander,” I manage, unblinking as I hold his gaze. I want to scoff when Corin mumbles a yes and lowers his head.
He nods once before granting us distance. “1900 hours. Tac room one.” He strides away, though his second and third do not follow.
What now…
No one speaks for several seconds, and I get the sense they’re both struggling to say what they want without forming the words.
Elias is first. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”
I nod, and as I turn to leave the awkward bubble, Kellen calls, “Rest in your room this time, Ashford.”
My legs freeze mid-step, his cryptic warning sending ice through my veins. But when I peer back, his expression gives nothing away.
I’m so fucked.
At least they’re allowing me on this mission…perhaps I can figure out how to save these people before I’m killed.
I have no idea how I’ll manage it, but I have less than twelve hours to figure it out.