Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Julian is sitting on a chair in the healing chamber, dripping blood steadily onto the floor. The rooms are meant to simulate conditions in the field, which means no fancy tables for the patients, no tools, except for the Pocket Healer and a first-aid kit.
‘Hey, sugar,’ Julian says, as Chrissy steps in, his green eyes crinkling.
He has sharp features; high cheekbones and a long, slightly hooked nose that makes me think of a bird of prey.
It works for him – probably because of the huge amounts of self-confidence he drags around. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while.’
She scoffs, but her cheeks flush. ‘You wouldn’t have to see me, if you’d stay out of trouble.’
‘Where would be the fun in that?’ he says, his eyes sliding to me. ‘You’ve brought company. Who’s this?’
‘No one,’ Chrissy says. My chest tightens. How true that feels: I’m literally no one. ‘She’s hardly even a Healer. She’s here just to watch.’
‘Does she like watching?’ Julian says, the corner of his mouth tipping up.
Chrissy scoffs. ‘Get your mind out of the gutter.’
‘But why? You enjoy it so much.’
‘Shut up and strip,’ Chrissy says. ‘Let me have a look at those wounds.’
I don’t catch the words that Julian utters back to her in a low voice.
I fidget, wishing to be anywhere else but here.
I’m not going to learn anything by watching how Chrissy uses her magic to heal Julian.
She brings her hands to his skin and her palms glow green before her powers begin to knit the wide gashes on his ribs back together.
Judging by the depth of the wound, he might have sustained some nerve damage, but she doesn’t even bother to ask about it.
Her powers will seek the injury – and treat it.
I have no healing powers. I’m as ill-suited to this Quarter as I’ve been to every other Quarter I’ve been assigned to.
In my hand, I clutch the PH, wishing she’d let me help. All the time I spent reading up on injuries, and I still feel useless. It’s like watching life through a mirror – it’s happening to everyone else but me.
Within minutes, Chrissy is done.
‘Nice job,’ Julian says, looking down at the spot where his skin has knitted itself together, though still smeared by crusted blood. ‘Aren’t you going to clean me up, too?’
Chrissy’s cheeks flush again. ‘Ellie, wipe that blood.’ She taps Julian on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, she can manage that much.’
I fumble with my first-aid rucksack, drawing out strips of clean gauze and disinfectant, grumbling in my mind. Chrissy should have disinfected the area before healing Julian – if there were any germs in his wound, she might have sealed them shut inside his skin when she healed him.
But it’s not as if I can say anything.
I keep my movements precise and professional, cleaning the inner side of his elbow and his ribs. Julian isn’t even looking at me.
I’m invisible.
‘So who are you going to the Commanders’ Ball with, Chrissy?’ he asks.
‘What is it to you?’ she says, but she’s avoiding his gaze.
Before they can continue their conversation and make me feel even more uncomfortable, there’s a knock on the door. Allen, another member of Top Team, stands in the threshold.
His mission gear is slashed through on the sides. His dark hair, down to his shoulders, is gathered in intricate braids and he’s wearing his thin-rimmed glasses.
Allen is skilled with his magical daggers and he’s the nerd in the Top Team. I know that from the promotional videos that are everywhere these days.
‘Am I interrupting?’ he says.
‘No,’ Chrissy replies.
‘Yes,’ Julian says.
‘Healer Apprentice Lucy examined my wounds and sent me here…’ Allen’s gaze jumps between the three of us. ‘She said I have a few scratches that a Healing Technician could take care of.’ His eyes stop on me. ‘Ellie, right?’
I straighten. Here’s my chance to earn a point. Work towards an invite for the Healers’ Ball. ‘That would be me,’ I say.
‘Absolutely out of the question.’ Chrissy indicates an empty chair. ‘Sit down. I’ll take care of it.’
I clutch my PH. ‘But I can manage it,’ I protest. ‘I’ve read so much about?—’
‘Do you think I’d let you anywhere near Top Team?’ Chrissy takes Allen by the elbow and almost drags him towards the chair. ‘You’re the lowest-ranking Apprentice in the Quarter.’
As I stand down, inwardly cursing her, she uses her power to close the lacerations on the back of Allen’s hand. It takes mere seconds.
Waves of humiliation make my ears burn and my chest tighten.
Allen purses his lips, watching me. I’m sorry. It’s almost as if I can hear him say it.
I shake my head, my eyes stinging. It’s fine.
It should be. I should be used to being treated like this by now.
Allen clears his throat. ‘So, Chrissy,’ he says. ‘The Test Missions are just a few weeks away. Do you feel ready?’
The Test Missions are designed mostly to test the Apprentices in the Warriors’ Quarter and decide their ranking and positions after graduation.
They often get teamed up with Apprentices from other Quarters.
Since she’s a top-tier Apprentice, chances are that Chrissy will be selected to be a part of one of the missions’ teams.
She gives Allen a dazzling smile. ‘This is why we’re setting up so many Field Healing Simulations. Just making sure that everyone’s ready, if they get selected.’
Allen’s gaze slides to me. ‘I’m not sure that the simulations are beneficial to everyone.’
‘You mean Ellie?’ Chrissy says. ‘She’ll never be picked. But I have to stick to the training protocols for final-year Apprentices, and get her through Field Simulation, too.’
I grind my teeth. I could have closed Allen’s wounds with the PH, if she’d allowed me to.
I’ve spent every single evening in the past three months reading up on anatomy and physiology and wound treatment, and Stella helps me with the command sequences if I get stuck.
The Pocket Healer itself is a bit of a challenge, but since I’ve done a stint in the Engineers’ Quarters before this, I understand a thing or two about how the machines are programmed.
I have to be very precise about the sequence to make sure that I don’t bind nerve tissue with blood vessels, for instance, but I’ve been working on these details for weeks. Though some days, I’m not even sure why I try.
Once she’s finished with Allen, Chrissy draws her ART – her All-Rounder Tablet – out of her pocket.
‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Lucy’s finished in her room, Ellie.
Go and make sure that it’s being cleaned.
Two more teams are up for Battle Simulation in fifteen minutes, and the healing chambers have to be ready by the time they’re done. ’
I nod, picking up the backpack with healing supplies that I probably won’t need today. I feel so empty. I think Allen says something before I leave, but I can’t hear him, because of the droning in my ears.
No one. Hardly even a Healer. She’ll never be picked.
The same bitter taste of failing, coating my tongue.
Day after day after day.
I don’t know what to do anymore, except put one foot in front of the other.
After I finish work, I head out of the training arena, making my way towards the Moving Tunnels.
It’s a long ride to the small chambers that I occupy in the Outer Circles of The Citadel.
Tall, metal-clad buildings rise around me, and the huge golden dome that covers our city in case of an attack is open wide to allow sunlight to stream in.
I indulge in the touch of the sun on my face. The streets are busy, swarming with people – smaller parties always take place at the same time as The Commanders’ Ball, and everyone is out for last-minute shopping.
Not me.
I shake out that sinking feeling and scan my ART in front of the sliding doors of the Moving Tunnel, then tap on the desired destination. A golden arrow on the ground points to the lift that would bring me home. About six people are already inside.
Stella, the AI who coordinates everything in our city, announces in a cold voice, ‘Secure your positions. The tunnel is closing in three, two, one. Take-off.’
I grab a rail and grit my teeth. The Moving Tunnels are like huge lifts that move up and down and sideways through The Citadel.
The streets aren’t wide enough for vehicles: our city is like a honeycomb, with buildings upon buildings and rooms upon rooms that are too complicated even for any Architect to keep count of.
Only Stella can account for every tiny room, every hidden tunnel. As if she heard my thoughts – or more likely I know her algorithms – Stella pings me a message onto my ART.
I scheduled physical training for you today.
I text back with one hand.
I need to catch up on reading. I think kidney injuries were next.
For all the good that might do.
She replies instantly.
You can spare an hour
Am I in the mood for some harrowing training session, today of all days? No.
But can I challenge Stella, the AI who holds the collective wisdom of the previous leaders of The Citadel? Not really.
The truth is, I loathe physical violence. I’m not cut out for it.
My ART pings again.
I’ll make it worth your while. I have a little treat for you, if you do this.
I detect a hint of mischief.
Oh, great. Now I’m curious. I wonder which of our former leaders was so impeccably manipulative and lent this feature to Stella.
Fine.
When I step out of the Moving Tunnel, I follow the directions Stella sent to my ART.
I pass by blocks and blocks of small rooming units, just like mine, delving deeper and deeper into The Citadel, until she leads me into a narrow, empty tunnel.
I check again the location – which doesn’t seem to be far off – when the ground gives way underneath me, and I find myself free-falling.
I throw my hands out, creating a dome with my magic to break my fall. ‘Thanks for the heads up,’ I snap, landing softly on the springy mattress on the floor. The opening above me closes with a click.