EVE®: Templar One (12 page)

14

CITADEL REGION—AREKIN CONSTELLATION

THE AHYNADA SYSTEM—PLANET IV: KRYSKOS MAR

BLACKBOURN CITY—VALOMER DISTRICT ACADEMY

SOVEREIGNTY OF THE CALDARI STATE

Thirty Years Ago

“Don’t you quit on me, Barabin,” the instructor barked.
“The State needs you to be strong.”

Vince thought his lungs were going to burst.
His legs kept kicking through the brutally chilled water while his burning arms struggled to keep his
MK25
Gauss rifle over his head.
Surrounded by other teenaged cadets fighting to stay afloat, Vince felt as though acid were pumping through his veins, and every fiber of his being was begging to quit.

The class was enduring the mandatory basic military training imposed by the State, comprised of vigorous physical conditioning, weapons and tactics training, and regimented academic learning.
Nearing the end of their standard education, these students would graduate directly into military or mega-corporate assignments, depending on their best competencies.
But this had been an especially bad week for Vince: The extra minutes tacked on to their water-survival class were due to his failure to come prepared, unable to work through a simple differential equation that could have been solved had he performed last evening’s assignments.

As per the Caldari way, the entire class would pay for his indiscretion, regardless of having a very good excuse.

“Whose State is this?”
the instructor bellowed.

“Our State!”
the class screamed back.

“Whose?”

“Ours!”

“Louder, dammit!”

“Our State!”

The cadence sounded more like desperation than conviction.
Everyone was suffering; the air was filled with the sounds of anguished grunts and wheezes as the cadets continued to tread water, and Vince knew it was his fault.

His classmates would get retribution for this, of course—almost certainly during the walk home from the academy.
Then his father would ridicule him again, and depending on how much he’d had to drink, likely challenge him to a fight.
And Vince would have to let him win, because his father refused to lose, no matter what.
Struggling to find the right balance between making an acceptable effort and allowing a victory with minimal damage was a delicate, if traumatizing, affair.
And then Vince would be unable to sleep, living in fear of the next encounter, and lately, just the thought of facing another day.

In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept soundly at all.

“When you don’t prepare, people die,” the instructor said, staring down at Vince from the pool’s edge.
“Every soldier is the difference between winning and losing, between living and dying!”

His arms started to fail him; the lactic acid buildup in his muscles was starting to overpower his will.

“Sixty more seconds,” the instructor taunted.
“All you have to do is tread for another minute.
You think you can do that?”

“Yes, ma’am.…”

“I can’t hear you!”

There wasn’t enough air in his lungs to answer back.
Vince thought of his sister Téa, and his arms straightened out for a moment.
He didn’t want to let her down by becoming a failure.
She always tried to protect him from Father’s fits of senseless anger, and for that he owed her dearly.

“Speak up, cadet!”

But the fatigue was clouding his senses, and suddenly it no longer seemed rational or even possible to keep the rifle upright.
The answer to his suffering was so easy.
His classmates would beat him later for quitting.
But that experience couldn’t possibly outlast the suffering he was enduring now.

The resounding splash of defeat was unmistakable; the weapon fell to the bottom of the pool as Vince kicked toward the edge, his arms nearly useless.

The instructor’s reaction was predictably one of extreme disgust, and she took her wrath out on those cadets who continued their struggle, while Vince watched, shivering uncontrollably.

*   *   *

A LATE-SPRING STORM CARRYING MOISTURE
from the warmer northern climates was grinding its way down the coast; a white coating of snow spotted with bits of grime and ash already bathed most of the city in a postindustrial glow.
Several hundred thousand Caldari called this port city home, but during the day more than twice that number were within its borders.
Operated by the Wiyrkomi mega-corporation, this particular district linked much of the southern hemisphere’s industrial base with space elevator access several hundred kilometers to the north.
The city was constructed around the deepwater port and massive rail-transfer yards; most of the surrounding buildings were six-story apartments with a central downtown area that included the academy, business spaces, and all of the supporting municipal structures.

Téa was waiting nervously for Vince a block away from the academy, following his strict instructions that they not be seen leaving the grounds together.

Hearing the sound of footsteps padding in the snow, she peered down the street and saw Vince jogging toward her.
His uniform had been pulled on hastily; he had left in a hurry.

“You should go home a different way,” he panted.
“I really screwed up this time.”

She was a full year younger than him but the same height.
“No way.
If Dad notices that we came home separately, he’ll know something’s wrong.”

“They’ll all be waiting for me,” Vince said, looking around nervously.
“Harris, the squad captain, all those guys.
I deserve whatever they throw at me.”

“No you don’t.
Dad does.
He’s the reason why you’re struggling.”

Vince looked at his sister.
She was the only person he cared about, or could trust, for that matter.

“Téa, I don’t want to go home.”

“I don’t either, Vince.
But we don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Anywhere is better than this,” he said, trying to catch his breath.
“We should just run away.
Maybe stow aboard a freighter heading back across the bay, or one of the maglevs heading north.…”

“Yeah, and then what?”
Téa interrupted.
“We have no money.
We have no support, no friends anywhere else.
And when we’re caught, the State will just send us to boarding dorms—if we’re lucky.”

“God, I really miss Mom,” Vince said.
His fatigue was making him especially vulnerable to emotions.
“Now more than ever.”

“There’s no such thing as God,” Téa snorted.
“It’s just you and me, and we’re on our own.”

A shout called out from the alley.
It sounded like the voice of Harris.

“Vince, we should go before they catch up.”

“It’s too late for that,” he answered, trembling from fear.
He curled his fingers into fists, his breath coming out in small puffs of vapor that dissipated in the cold.
“I guess the upside is that everyone coming after me is just as tired as I am.
Téa, please go.
I don’t want you to see this.”

The sounds of several voices, much closer this time, echoed down the snow-covered street.

“I’m not leaving you,” she said.
“And if I do, it’ll be to get help.”

Harris emerged from the alley corner, flanked on either side by two classmates, a boy and a girl.

“Barabin, you pussy,” he growled.
“I’m calling you out!”

Vince squared up to him.
“I know I messed up, and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it, you lazy
prick,
” Harris said, shoving Vince on the shoulder.
Harris was much taller and heavier.

Téa stepped in between them.

“Leave him alone!
You have no idea what he’s going through!”

“Yeah, it figures he’d hide behind his sister,” Harris growled, getting right in her face.
“Look, I don’t care what he’s going through.
Vince let his squad down
twice
today.
We paid for it, we’re sick of it, and as squad leader it’s my job to make sure it stops.
Now step aside or else—”

The whine of an approaching municipal street cleaner—a big treaded vehicle that cleared and melted snow for civilian traffic—provided just enough of a distraction for Téa to launch her shin toward the older cadet’s groin.

It caught just enough soft matter to stun him.

As Harris hunched over, Vince leapt toward the other cadet, colliding with him at the waist and driving him into the snow.
The female companion lunged at Téa and dropped her with a well-trained jab-cross-elbow combo.
The blows opened a deep cut on Téa’s chin, and she lay woozy on her back, surrounded by bright droplets of crimson.

“You’ll stay down if you know what’s good for you,” the cadet growled.
Téa tried to get to her feet, but a swift kick to her stomach stopped her.

Vince was too preoccupied grappling with the other cadet to help, and just when it seemed he might be able to wrestle free of his attacker’s grip, a powerful punch came from nowhere and stunned him.

Forcefully heaved to his feet, he was thrown face-first into the side of a building, spun back around, and pummeled by Harris.

Bleeding from his nose and mouth, Vince fell to his knees.
His ribs were so sore it hurt to breathe.

“It’s for your own good,” Harris said, spitting.
“Get help, get with the program, or get the fuck out.
Either way, stop dragging the rest of us through the mud with your personal problems.”

Vince said nothing, his eyes trying to blink away the pain.
It was snowing harder now, and the only sound he was remotely aware of was the street cleaner, which was closer now.

“And you,” Harris said to Téa, who was now sitting up, clutching her chin.
“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that.
But no one likes a cheap shot.”

He kicked a boot’s worth of snow into her face, and as the tiny bits of ice stung her skin, for the first time in Vince’s young life, something long dormant and very dark thrashed free of its chains.
The imagery of Harris abusing his sister—the blatant disrespect, utter lack of compassion, and cowardly act to someone who was clearly weaker and disabled—reminded him so very much of the man he feared and loathed the most in life.

Finding a reservoir of untapped energy, he waited until his three classmates walked past before launching his strike.
Feeling no pain, he rose to his feet quickly but stayed crouched and took long strides toward his target to close the distance as stealthily as possible.

When he was at the fringe of their detection range, he summoned all his strength into a full-blown sprint, nearly slipping as he propelled himself forward.

He had achieved the element of surprise: The three cadets were not expecting another attack.
Vince was acting on instincts fueled by a primal, remorseless rage; at no point was he fully aware of what he was doing.

The first cadet reflexively crouched, bracing for another attempted tackle.
Instead, he was met with a savage knee to the face, opening deep cuts above and below one eye.
He collapsed on the sidewalk, covering his injury, blinded, and terrified that the damage was much worse than it felt.

Vince was peripherally aware that the street cleaner was very close now and that his sister was trying to tell him something.

Ducking beneath a punch from Harris, he countered with a punch to the larger man’s ribs, then a second when he sensed the first had winded him.