Chapter 19
Aftermath of the Perfomance
The corner was quiet, removed from the clamor of the mess hall. It was the perfect place for the madman everyone wanted to avoid. Perfect for me.
I noticed I wasn't completely alone. Sadie, the silver-haired woman from my team, was sitting at the other end of the table. The one who'd fought like death incarnate on the bridge. Up close, her posture was rigid, controlled, and perfect.
Something about her made my skin crawl, and that was saying something considering what lived under my skin these days. I couldn't put my finger on what bothered me about her. It wasn't her beauty or her stillness.
It was her eyes.
They were empty, expressionless, constantly assessing. They reminded me of someone, and the realization hit me like a punch to the gut. Mikkel.
She had the same calculating coldness hidden behind a perfect mask.
My jaw tightened, and I had to force myself to relax before the worms reacted to my tension. I fought down the memory of my father's face as he ate Rell.
By all rights, she should have been at the center of any power structure here.
Instead, she sat alone in an empty corner.
And then it clicked, the corner wasn't empty despite her presence. It was empty because of her presence.
The other prisoners sensed what I had just identified.
That cold lethality, that perfect control. She was surrounded by an invisible aura that screamed danger to anyone who came near.
I suddenly understood why no one had approached this corner even before my performance. Sadie had claimed it first, and everyone else had the sense to stay away.
Armed with this understanding, I watched the rest of the mess hall. There was a pattern to how the prisoners had grouped themselves.
The center tables held the prime positions…
the veteran prisoners, Bridge Sergeants, and high Grades.
They sat with easy confidence, calm and collected, with an air of earned superiority.
Kaz was there, his golden presence commanding attention without even trying, his laugh occasionally rising above the general din.
Near him was Rafe and his admirers, the wealthy and trained Sacred who'd had the benefit of preparation before their Trials.
The next were the mid-tier prisoners, those with useful Origins, established survivors who'd made it past their first few months. They were alert and political, trading information, forming alliances.
Their chances were decent if they were smart and lucky.
The outer edges held the fresh arrivals, low Grades, the uncertain.
They clustered together, nervous and scared, attaching themselves to anyone who would have them.
And then there were the corners where Sadie and I sat. The ones who didn't fit into their little hierarchy.
Only one person seemed to break the pattern entirely.
Zo, with her electric-blue hair, which was impossible to miss, leaned against a pillar near the center of the room. She belonged to no group. She stood alone, watching the room with lazy amusement.
Unlike the nervous loners at the edges, she wasn't seeking protection. Unlike Sadie and me, who were in our corners, she wasn't being avoided.
I turned my attention back to my corner.
Sadie still hadn't moved, hadn't acknowledged my presence in any way.
The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable; it was actually comforting. Two people in the same space without occupying each other's attention.
I wonder how long the meal time is, or how long until something happens. The waiting is almost worse than the fighting. At least during combat, the worms had something to do. Here there was just—
Just as I was thinking this, a guard ran into the mess hall, but not just any guard. This one was massive. He stood at least six-foot-six, with shoulders wide enough to fill a doorway. His arms looked like they could snap a man's spine without trying. He had a full, thick brown beard.
His eyes, though, were constantly moving, assessing us. This was a man who saw everything and missed nothing.
He moved through the mess hall with authority.
The prisoners shifted aside without being asked, conversations dying as he passed, only to resume in hushed tones after he moved on. The man reached the center of the room and stopped. When his eyes passed over my corner, I felt suddenly alert.
His gaze moved on—I apparently wasn't worth special attention—but stopped on Sadie for a few extra seconds.
"I'm Curtis, senior supervisor for the Bridge Section," he announced. "For those of you who just survived your first surge… congratulations. You lived. Don't get used to it."
Everyone listened without interruption. Even the veterans fell silent.
"Some of you might think you've proven yourselves." His eyes swept the room, landing briefly on a group of newer prisoners who'd been celebrating earlier. "You haven't. The Front are patient. The tears are endless. The moment you start believing you're safe is the moment you die."
He clasped his hands behind his back, his posture military-straight but relaxed.
"I've watched hundreds of first-battle survivors die in their second surge. Thousands in their first month."
Great pep talk, I thought. Really inspiring stuff.
"In the coming days, veterans will share what they know."
"Your Bridge Sergeant isn't your savior. Your team isn't your family. Your Origin isn't your path to salvation. The responsibility to survive is yours and yours alone."
Around the hall, newer prisoners exchanged nervous looks. I kept my expression vacant, playing my role.
"You're not civilians anymore," Curtis said.
"You shouldn't be soldiers either… but here you are.
The Front doesn't care what you were, what you wanted to be, who the hell is waiting for you.
Your training means nothing, your connections mean shit, and your hopes…
none of it matters here. Only what you do matters. "
I fought back a snort.
I realized this speech wasn't for me. It was for the others, the ones who still had connections to the outside world, the ones who thought their previous lives mattered.
But I understood the purpose. Fear kept prisoners sharp, kept them alive longer.
Curtis wasn't being cruel; he was trying to keep these people breathing.
Curtis paused, letting the fear settle into the room like a heavy blanket. Then, with a slight nod, he continued.
"Tonight, we will be collecting cores. Your teams will report their harvest, quotas will be assessed."
I listened carefully now.
"You're full SDC resources now."
"Report to your Bridge Sergeants after the meal. Anyone who fails to appear gets their rations docked."
Curtis looked across the room one final time, his eyes passing over my corner again. Then he turned and exited without ceremony.
The mess hall slowly returned to conversation, but the tone had changed. There was less politics now, more urgency. People were finishing their meals quickly, preparing to meet their sergeants, counting cores in their pockets.
I stood, preparing to find Kaz. I didn't look back at Sadie as I left. Some mysteries could wait.
I spotted Kaz across the mess hall, his golden hair making him easy to find even in the crowd. He was already gathering our team, gesturing for them to finish up.
"Fish," Kaz called when he saw me, using the nickname he'd given me. "Got your cores?"
I patted my pocket, where the small pouch of goblin cores rested. "Got 'em right here, boss."
"Good work today, kid. Join the circle," he said finally, gesturing to where the rest of the team was gathering.
I shuffled over to them, careful to maintain a bit of distance. Sophie edged away slightly when I approached, but Zo actually moved closer to me.
"Quite the show you put on with Rafe, I'm impressed."
I blinked at her, pretending to be confused. "...What show?"
"Sure, Fish. Whatever you say." She said, flashing me a smile.
Before I could respond, Kaz called for our attention.
"Core count," he said. "Now."
When my turn came, I produced my pouch and counted out seventeen cores.
Kaz's eyebrows rose slightly. "Seventeen from a Grade 5 with no combat experience. Not bad."
I shrugged.
"Zo?"
"Twenty-two," she said, dropping her pouch into Kaz's outstretched hand.
"Sadie?"
I turned to see Sadie had been standing beside the group. She handed Kaz a pouch without a word.
Kaz opened it and whistled softly. "Thirty-one. As expected."
The count continued until everyone had reported. Kaz tallied the results quickly.
"One hundred and forty-seven total. Above quota. Good work, team."
There was a collective exhale of relief. Above quota meant no dangerous rotations, at least not for our team.
"Fish," Kaz said, turning to me. "You're with me for core collection. The rest of you, get some rest."
As the team dispersed, I noticed Sadie watching me with those empty eyes. Then she turned and walked away.
"Come on," Kaz said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Let's get these cores logged."
I followed him out of the mess hall, leaving the noise and the politics behind. The worms stirred slightly, as if sensing something important was coming.