Chapter 39
The video of my defeat played on the screen for what felt like the thousandth time. Though it wasn’t as though I ever stopped replaying it in my mind, whether it was being projected on a screen right in front of me or if I was asleep and lost in nightmare.
Father replayed it yet again, then after he’d finally satisfied himself with my humiliation, he at last paused the replay to offer relief.
“You saw it, right?” He asked, sternly and clearly expecting a very specific answer.
Saw what? The explosion? The moment I underestimated him? The million mistakes I made?
I lifted my chin, not answering him with words.
Father shook his head, then he rewound the replay to the moment Vann had grabbed my neck and clamped down, ultimately deciding the battle with the simplest move. “Here.”
I watched closely as he rewound and replayed, once from my perspective, once from his, then the third from the omnipotent perspective used by the evaluators for less personal educational replays.
That was when I saw it too. The way he moved. The speed and fluidity and naturalness of his hand movements and his camera’s rapid focus, paired with the spark of injury that should have damaged his sync. Yet he still managed perfection.
It was then that I realized exactly how calm and calculated his every move was.
Even my own sync had flickered briefly down to 99% as I fought him, because as the tide of the battle turned, I’d lost some of my focus.
I wasn’t used to being challenged on a real and equal level, and it had rattled my constitution.
I knew he had perfect sync, but this wasn’t that.
This was pushing aside emotions so he could do what needed to be done, in a way I’d never seen.
The sort of pull up your sleeves, work through the pain, and suffer silently.
His desperation translated into adrenaline and focus, rather than overwhelming fear or a loss of control.
How was he so calm under that kind of pressure?
“The irony,” my father began, “is that you’ve performed on such a high level your whole life, that you weren’t able to keep your sync in that situation as well as he did.
” He replayed Vann’s perspective again, this time directing my focus to his sync and his vitals.
“That isn’t the heart rate or mind of a calm soldier, but that’s the sync of someone who has learned to thrive in their chaos and their failure. ”
“You’re saying because he’s used to failing—to more pain and more struggling, that was why he beat me?
” I summed up the basics, but it was more complex than that.
I’d made a point to challenge Vann with greater force and scrutiny than anyone else, and the reason I’d done so, time and again, was because he’d handled it.
The places he lacked, he tried to find work arounds, and when he was overwhelmed or outnumbered, he had a deeply analytical mind that could multitask brilliantly.
I’d seen it in that three-on-one sparring match, and I saw it in the evaluation.
He knew how to break down who to target and when, and he was impressive at spotting weaknesses.
Survival instincts that couldn’t be taught.
I was the wolf who was surprised by the resourcefulness and tenacity of the rabbit, because the born predator never had to experience the fear of being prey, while the prey lived its whole life mastering survival and strategy to protect itself from the predator.
Father tossed me the remote and tipped his chin, and I replayed the feed again, now looking for every moment that I slipped and he didn’t.
His technique wasn’t special or exceptional, really.
It was his acceptance of the situation and desire to conquer it that was peerless.
It was the way he’d studied me, knowing how hard it would be to beat me, and the way I’d naturally assumed an upper hand, even if it was only in the depths of my confidence.
Watching the entirety of his feed, from the beginning of the mission to our showdown at the end, he’d targeted cores instead of trackers, he’d managed to isolate soldiers as needed to lessen our numbers in manageable chunks, and even small decisions like covering the lights on his unit with mud, hiding after each kill, and moving off the expected infiltration line to ambush alerted soldiers were all calculated.
He retained the lessons others forgot, and he was natural and comfortable enough in a Shinka to execute flawlessly.
“Why was he singled out as the one unit versus twenty in that round?” I asked next, certain he had insight.
That wasn’t a coincidence, and I’d already looked at some of the other servers to verify they’d had two and three men on the infiltration teams and closer to ten or fifteen defense soldiers.
It was only Vann who was given the solo challenge, just as I’d been in my first year at Astaroth.
“Because he’s like you,” he said, plainly and bluntly. “He’s a Vessel.”
“What?” I stared at him, wide eyed and confused. “How is that possible? He was born on an independent station.”
“An independent research station.” His tone was both smug and antagonistic, embodying the cruelty I knew he was entirely too capable of.
“The project wasn’t a singular effort of a single scientist. Candidates were chosen for a number of reasons, and every lab had a different approach to how they augmented their future Vessels.
Most of the test subjects were chosen because they had no one to advocate for them, but some simply had the right person to advocate for them.
” He shut off the feed, then stood from his chair.
“Who advocated for… him?” I was stunned and now even more confused. Vann wasn’t anybody as far as I could find. But I couldn’t expect Father to be up front about his own knowledge.
“The very scientist who invented the technology, then tried to smuggle it into an independent station, so we couldn’t use it.
” He didn’t clarify beyond that, though the names of his parents weren’t important compared to the significance of their roles in the project.
“It appears as though you’ve done a fantastic job fostering his talent with your tutelage.
I’d like for that to continue going forward.
You may find yourself on the front line again sooner than later, and you’ll need good allies like this if you hope to be successful, Sebastian.
” He paced to the door, then paused before exiting the room.
“Oh, before we part, I’ve spoken to the matchmaker.
She reported that you turned down the daughter of General Durand. Care to explain?”
The shift in subject was too much amidst every other revelation, and I didn’t have the mind available to come up with an excuse. “I’ve been too preoccupied with training to make the time she deserves. I apologize.”
He shook his head, seeing right through my weak explanation.
“It’s no matter. I’ve insisted on performing neural tests on all possible candidates who may accept your DNA, and she wasn’t up to the standard to bear the child of a Vessel.
It’s a shame that females weren’t included in the Vessel Project, but a woman with a proven ability to accept the mutation would be ideal.
I’m allowing you to make a choice for now, but should we find a worthy specimen, your participation will not be optional. ”
“Of course.” I bowed in submission, and he simply nodded.
“I only do this for your benefit. You are among the most capable subjects within the experiment, and you’ve proven that time and again, despite this single loss. Keep up the good work, my son. You’re dismissed.”
I swallowed, at a loss for words. To be praised for failure somehow felt worse than being scolded for it.
It was a mockery of every ‘good job’ he’d offered throughout my life, and now he seemed more fixated on how I could help hone Vann’s talent than continue to improve my own.
Still, I kept my head down rather than challenging him on any of that.
If he wanted to tell me more, he would have.
The curt dismissal that followed told me he had no intention of elaborating.
“Yes, father.” I said what I was supposed to say, before I turned on my heel to head back to my dorm. There was a lot to process here, and it would be easier to do it alone.