Chapter 10 #2
Shinkas were built from a metal-like material that had been constructed in a laboratory using a combination of earth’s hardest stones—diamonds, chemically developed once Mictlan lost access to Earth—and a rare mineral that was mined from the outer stone of Saturn’s core, known as Cynnite.
The compound was simply named Diacynn, and proved to be one of the strongest materials in the known universe, so much so that shaping and construction of the Shinkas required the invention of entirely new cutting lasers.
For the last decade, there were no weapons strong enough to penetrate the shields and armor of our war suits.
This was why I’d come here. None of those small hiccups up until now seemed so important anymore as we delved into the fascinating inner workings of a true technological marvel.
One day, I would be the mind that controlled my own metal giant.
Whatever it took to get to that point, I would endure it.
As class ended and the room started to clear out, I approached the reclined Shinka, and I touched that legendary metal for the first time in my life, just wanting to know its essence.
It was sleek and smooth, with a near imperceptible grit if you pressed in your fingers hard enough, and a natural sheen that reflected the overhead lights of the workshop.
I never thought I’d get to touch something like this.
To be this close and in a position to pilot one in the near future all seemed beyond comprehension.
I’d all but completely let go of those dreams. I’d given up on having anything I’d wanted in life, and accepted that simply existing until I died would have to be enough for me.
But it didn’t have to be that way. Cruel as it was, this whole fucked up war felt like the fates had accidentally saved me.
I rubbed my wrist, where my hidden CHRONO was disguised by the illusion of my A2, and I took a slow, deep breath, easing the overwhelming stress of the day.
I’d made the right decision by coming here.
Whatever trials and tribulations came now, I’d find a way to get to the other side. It would be worth it.
At the end of the long day, I headed to the cafeteria. It was with great lamentation that I picked up my tray of nutritionally complete rations from the counter, before I took a seat at an empty bench seat among the rows and rows of plain white tables.
Dinner was comprised of something that was meant to resemble the texture of overcooked steak and a lovely side portion that was theoretically replicating a bread roll.
While we’d mostly been limited to various thicknesses of mash in 005, Astaroth’s chefs had mastered the art of creating true texture in our artificial food.
It would be a triumph of humanity if they could just figure out how to mimic flavor.
Alone at my table, safe to eat in quiet, judgment-free peace, I chewed an overly tough bite of artificial meat slab, until I fully appreciated the way that sweaty flavor dissolved on my tongue.
With thousands of new recruits, tables were filling up all around me.
It seemed like a lot of the other new recruits were already commiserating and forming friendships and cliques, but for some reason, no one had chosen to sit at my table yet.
I needed to remind myself that all of them had been doing mandatory training classes for years, so they weren’t in an entirely new environment with entirely new people like I was.
They were drafted with their friends and their sparring partners, and they hadn’t come from a station that had been devastated by recent violence.
Considering all of Vann’s friends were on the death toll, he’d be as alone as I was if he’d been here in my place.
I felt guilty thinking that had been to my advantage. That if Vann’s friends had survived, I couldn’t have pulled this off at all.
It was even slower that I chewed the next bite, fully appreciating how absolutely awful that truly was.
I had to give myself a little grace on having such intrusive and conflicting feelings, but fuck did I feel like a bad person when I acknowledged that someone else dying was what gave me the chance to live.
I inhaled deeply, then I exhaled, not wanting to think about the darker parts of my current reality. I didn’t have the space in my mind for such sentimentality, unless I was hoping to join them in the afterlife.
I closed my eyes and took a small moment of silence for the fallen, then I returned to my meal.
It was still early in the supper hour, and I should be grateful for the solitude and the chance to mentally regroup, but as time ticked on and more and more tables were filled, I didn’t actually understand why no one was sitting with me.
My paranoia constantly had me questioning myself.
Whether I was a complete unknown or not, wouldn’t it be normal to fill every table, regardless?
Maybe I should be the one to move and sit with other people? I was used to other people approaching me—as a woman, that was kind of a constant and often unwelcome curse that came with the territory—so the idea of initiating friendship on my own didn’t speak to my introverted soul at all.
How did guys make friends, anyway? Actual confidence?
Fuck that.
It was too late to move now anyway, lest I look desperate and needy. Tomorrow though. Tomorrow I’d make a better effort to engage with more of my peers. Today had already been a lot.
Having successfully reasoned away any need to be social, I was about to force myself to take another bite, when a hard thunk fell on my shoulder with the force of being hit with a steel bat. I lifted my gaze to the offending party, only to meet the hazel eyes of Breaker Delacorte.
“All alone?” Breaker slotted himself in beside me. “Do you want some company?” He grinned in a way that made it impossible to say no. He was entirely too upbeat for the general atmosphere.
“S-sure,” I said, stumbling despite myself.
He was supposed to be my mentor, whatever that meant, so it made sense that he would check up on me.
The second he showed up, a number of other men started filling in the rest of the long cafeteria table, as if they’d been waiting for someone else to prove I wasn’t diseased and contagious.
Breaker seemed a bit off-kilter, but I guess he had friends probably. Or he just was nonthreatening enough that people didn’t mind sitting around him. It would make this whole experience a lot easier if I could just assimilate into whatever social circle he’d built.
Breaker settled in and started cutting the steak slab. He stabbed a small cube of the tan colored meat and held it at eye level, as if he had to hype himself up to actually eat it. The grimace on his face likely matched my own.
“You never get used to this shit,” he said, upon dramatically forcing himself to chew and swallow.
The others at the table all ate without complaint or any disdain in their expression.
I recalled how happy Vann had always been to eat his rations.
We’d had too many years as the regime changed where food wasn’t always easy to come by, so it was a gratitude thing, he’d always said.
After our parents were out of the picture, we survived on the canned food left in storage, some sympathy meals from our neighbors, and whatever snacks either of us could shoplift.
Sometimes I wondered if Ms. Santori, who owned the local convenience store, only pretended not to notice when we stashed bread or cookies under our coats.
It wasn’t until Mictlan implemented universal food incentives in the form of lab-built rations that we were able to survive without living in constant anxiety and hunger pangs.
Vann had come to appreciate anything that counted as sustenance, no matter how heinous it tasted, but for some reason, I’d never been able to acquire a taste for the nutritionally complete mash, even when I was at my hungriest. After having experienced Mom’s cooking and Dad’s grilling before the war cut off our access to Earth crops and livestock, I’d never been able to let go of the idea of flavor.
In a way, I was envious of those who just didn’t care.
Maybe I was the sentimental one, after all.
I often reminded myself that I needed to appreciate the fact that Mictlan gave us a chance to survive at all.
That it was their programs and assistance that kept us fed when we had no way to fend for ourselves.
They were the ones who saved and took care of the most vulnerable among us.
This nation was worth saving for that alone.
I tried not to think about the fact that I was currently disguised as a man using illegal software because of our other laws.
It was better to focus on the good right now.
Maybe once this was all said and done, I could reveal my identity and make real change.
I could be the proof and bring progress.
“I’m told it’s an acquired taste.” I took another bite of the so-called steak, and by the stars, it was so damn chewy. “I was on the lunch program at Medella U, and they only served us the mash version, so at least they have texture here.”
He snorted. “Texture is such a nice word.” Breaker stabbed his knife into the meat slab again, and sawed away at the grainy material. “It’s probably easier to digest when you’ve never had anything else though.”
That was an interesting statement. “Are you not from Mictlan originally?” Maybe this was a way to bridge a gap between us—bonding as fellow outsiders.
I likely would need some kind of allies if I wanted to survive this, and he seemed as good an option as anyone else.
His hair color didn’t belong to any station I knew of, so it was a reasonable guess.
“Earth.” He shrugged, and my eyes widened.