Chapter 5
You clean, I appreciate
It was hard walking home after the Mistrun last night. It was even harder packing up a lifetime's worth of possessions into two bags in one night. Hauling them to the Voyager’s outpost was no picnic, either. But the hardest thing of all was saying goodbye to my family.
The Voyager's outpost imposed its silhouette against the menacing gray sunrise, the entire structure rising out of the ground like a moored, petrified Arc.
Eerie shivering moss had reclaimed most of the ancient runic stones that the outpost was built from, with waterfalls of jungle vines rupturing out from the cracks as if they’d been birthed from within the heart of the darkness itself.
Tall bamboo spires jutted up toward the sky like skin around the outpost. It was capable of housing at least a hundred people, and trepidation rooted my feet to the ground at the sheer intimidating scale.
The large hollowed out entrance yawned open at the top of the steps, waiting to eat me. I took one hesitant step forward underneath the archway. I was cast abruptly into shadow.
The Mistrun had qualified me, but it wasn’t too late to turn away from the long road ahead. Gravity tugged at me, luring me toward the nearest exit.
That’s not gravity.
I exhaled, continuing forward.
There was a large central area open to the elements, several flat benches interspersed throughout. Robust enclosed areas were strewn about, with tall banyan doors veiling their contents from my view.
Some of the participants and organizers from the Mistrun were here, including the woman who had announced the rules.
She had weathered skin and silvering dark hair, and a presence about her like a tree, something that couldn't be budged. I had the insane impulse to try running at her to see if I could get her to stumble even a bit, but I shook off the sensation.
The other organizer though, the rude stranger who I now shared an unwanted Skinscript with, was nowhere to be seen.
Spying Henrik by one of the walls, I wandered over. He straightened his posture as soon as he noticed me.
It was flattering, even if I wasn't interested.
I dropped my bags on the ground next to his, leaning up against the wall with him. My legs still ached from yesterday's Mistrun, and taking the full weight off them helped.
“That’s some rotten luck.” He tipped his chin toward the side of the courtyard. A small group took up the area, and I picked out Yeshar somewhere in the middle. “Now we have to put up with him here, too.”
“He’s never really bothered me,” I lied, curling my bandaged finger into my palm. “Sure, he’s creepy, but he usually keeps to himself.”
Henrik scoffed. “That’s because you don’t really know him.” He tilted his face up toward the ominous clouds cloaking the sky. “It better not rain before we can get inside.”
“It'll probably pour on us because you said that.”
“See that,” he jerked his thumb to a petite redhead who I recognized as the one who had been helped through the rope net obstacle. “I'm placing my bet now that she'll be the first one to wash out this year.”
I scanned the girl, she was small with a stubborn set to her jaw, a riot of freckles and a discerning gaze.
“Nah.” Looking around the rest of the courtyard, I spotted the man who had helped pull her through.
If I'd learned anything in the Reformatory from Henrik, it was that hindering yourself to help others would multiply the eventual strife sum by a factor of how many people were involved. “He will.”
A loud clanking noise startled me, and I turned to see a metal portcullis descending over the entrance we'd come in through. There was no turning back.
A trumpeting noise boomed. The short girl Henrik had pointed out visibly jumped.
“Alright, listen up because I won't repeat myself!” The same organizer from yesterday called out, stepping up onto a raised stone platform at the back edge of the area, next to a wooden facsimile of a helm.
“My name is Instructor Garcien, I will be in charge of your daily lessons. This is Instructor Penbrook, who is in charge of Medic services.” A feeble man with a well-trimmed beard stepped up beside her.
“Instructor Weavir, who will be conducting regular Religious services each week after lunch on Holy Day.” A robust man with warm eyes stepped forward.
“And Instructor Tyrell, who will be in charge of your daily Fitness services training.”
My breath got stuck in my throat as the cliff-side creep joined the lineup. So he had been lurking somewhere nearby. At least now I knew his name.
“If you hear the horn again,” Instructor Garcien held up a massive Starshell to her lips, blowing into the apex. Another low piercing blare echoed through the outpost. “It means immediate emergency assembly for everyone, in this courtyard.”
The 'horn' had a whorled conical shape, and it tapered from a wide base to a narrow curved end. It was the most giant Starshell I'd ever seen, and the first I’d seen up close. And it wasn’t just me.
Henrik’s eyes fixed on the horn.
“Barracks are that way,” she pointed to the right, “And vacancies for you guppies are marked with yellow dye on the doors. Do not try to enter any door without that dye on it, it’s occupied by us, your instructors.
” Her gaze skimmed over all of us. “You're getting a rare opportunity today, the chance to make a significant choice, your new roommate.”
Surprise smacked me. Choices were largely discouraged by the Ascendancy. Why would they allow trainees this privilege?
“There are exactly one hundred of you, so everyone gets one roommate. Yes, everyone, and yes, one roommate each.” Her voice hardened.
“No, we don't care who you bunk with. We don't even care if you switch roommates midway through training, so long as everyone involved agrees to it. But fighting won’t be tolerated.
With anyone, including them. Start a fight, and you're out of the Voyager training.”
“Woo, the old Kraken's got teeth,” Henrik murmured. An involuntary shudder went through me.
“Don't have your roommate figured out by eleven today, you're also out.
We don't waste time here, so don't waste ours. You want to become the future crew of Arcs? Then prove it. There will be a midterm on the first day of the new month, in two month’s time. We will be testing your physical limits, your ability to work as a team, your intelligence. You will be judged on your performance during these tests. Anyone found lacking will be assigned to a new service.” I swallowed the growing lump in my throat.
For Apostates like Henrik, Yeshar, and I, reassignment was unlikely, if not impossible.
We'd be more likely to be sent back to the Reformatory, or worse, the Devourer.
A light drizzle of rain began to fall. I held my hands out, embracing the weather I hadn’t felt on my skin in years.
Instructor Garcien wasn’t phased in the least, and Instructor Tyrell didn't appear bothered either. Instructor Weavir tried to shelter himself with his hands, while Instructor Penbrook crossed his arms in annoyance.
“Privy is that way,” Garcien pointed to the right, “Along with the Library, where the galley would be on an Arc. There is a natural spring pool behind this door.” She gestured behind herself to where a captain’s cabin would be on an Arc.
“With limited access once a week per trainee, for hygiene with a sign in log. Fitness facilities that way,” she pointed to the left.
“Including our Brig and Medical center,” a shift in her hand indicated two other doorways.
“Voyager training will prepare you for unforgiving environments filled with hostile forces. It will be intense, and so will the injuries from it. Meals are served out here, with a side serving of whatever weather the Devourer sees fit to share with us. Meals are served at nine, noon, and five. If you miss a meal, it will be up to you to find your own food. This is a service training facility only. That means no guests in the form of friends or family, no conjugal visits, and absolutely no parties. We run a tight ship here,” the corners of her lips quirked upward at her own joke.
“So no sweetstalk nectar, gambling, or other chicanery. Your lessons will start here, every day at sunrise. Training will begin each day at one. Failing to show up will be penalized. You each have two sick days, use them sparingly. Being a Voyager is an honor, but it’s an honor you'll have to earn.
Not everyone here will become one, so don't get attached until you've graduated. See you all today at eleven.” She stepped down from the podium, and I did another sweep of everyone in the courtyard.
Yeshar gave me an unnerving flat stare, hands clasped behind him. My gaze skedaddled.
There were plenty of potential female roommates, and I knew what Henrik was going to suggest before he opened his mouth.
“Well, should we go find a new dorm room together, roomie?”
“Not happening, ever.” Scooping up my bags, I stepped away from the wall and blew him a mocking farewell kiss as I pulled one over my shoulder. “But I'll see you at noon for lunch.”
“Wait,” he called, reaching down to rummage through his bag. He pulled out a narrow wooden box, sealed with thick rope. “Do me a favor and hang onto this for me until after the final exam?”
“What’s in it?”
He grinned, “It’s a graduation surprise.”
“For little old me?” I sketched a swoon, taking the box from him. It was heavy. Giving it a little shake, whatever was inside didn’t make any noise. He must have padded it.
“Just keep it safe, alright?”
I swiped droplets off the top, shoving it into my already overflowing bag. “Sure.”
I headed toward the rest of the trainees, ignoring the steady spray of rain pelting my head.
Several of the women were already pairing off and chatting with one another.
“Hey you, blondie.” I paused, turning to see the same wolfish dark-haired woman who had dropped a man off the wall yesterday walking toward me. “Want to bunk together?”
So you can knife me in my sleep?
“No thanks,” I shot back, turning away from her mocking smile.
Enough time around strangers in the Reformatory had taught me a vital skill – the ability to recognize someone as a threat before they became one. That, and don’t owe criminals favors.
Her advantage in both height and muscular strength could easily be weaponized against me. She'd be an absolute terror as a roommate, as toxic as a Jatropha plant.
Everyone besides Apostates wanted to be here, but that didn't make them trustworthy.
If I was going to choose a roommate, it needed to be someone who couldn't physically overpower me, at least until I could determine their trustworthiness. Unfortunately, I hadn’t manifested the ability to sniff out if someone was trustworthy or not.
The best person to have as my roommate would be someone who'd mastered the art of unspoken words. Since that was unlikely, the next best would be someone who would watch my back, in exchange for me watching theirs. To a point.
My eyes fell on my target, the same redhead Henrik had singled out for her diminutive stature.
Up close, her hair wasn’t quite red. It reminded me of autumn leaves, vibrant and alive with color.
She was turning this way and that, looking at everyone gathered in the courtyard with thinly veiled apprehension. She looked timid. Approachable.
“Hey,” I greeted, walking up to her and wiping down my rain-soaked hand before extending it to her. “I'm Lisia.”
“Oh uh, Sa—My name is Sarina,” she shook my hand and the chill of the rain on her pale hands spread to mine. To her credit, her hands were not shaking.
Had she only made it this far because of the help she'd gotten from others? It didn't matter. There wasn’t anything besides nervousness in her posture. The awareness that if she washed out, there would be more space for me, was an added bonus.
“I don't know much about the Voyagers, but I’m strong.” I tapped my bicep for emphasis. “And I'm good in a crisis. I snore a bit, but I'm pretty reliable. Want to try being roommates?” I pushed a wet strand of hair out of my eyes.
Sarina's mouth popped open, then shut. Her eyes narrowed as she studied me, and the stubborn tightness returned to her jaw. “Why would you wanna room with me?”
She wasn't naive, despite appearances.
My grin widened at her casual tone, showing her my palms. “Well, honestly, you don't look like a troublemaker. I want to become a Voyager.” To my amazement, I sounded genuine. “And I want a roommate who will make getting there easier, not harder.”
She gave a slow accepting nod. “I'm not very strong, but I'm quick.”
“How's your cleanliness?”
She shrugged. “Not the worst.”
“Great, mine's terrible too.” Freckled cheeks rounded with her smile.
“I suppose we could do worse for roommates,” she said.
“Agreed. Let's get out of this rain.” I collared her with my arm, steering us toward the lower level.