Some Fine Day (21 page)

“Well, the commandant is in a meeting. You’ll have to wait.”

I take a seat on one of those antique sofas that feel like they’re made of concrete draped in a thin layer of embossed silk. The room is silent except for the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. My left butt cheek has gone completely numb by the time the study door opens.

“Come,” Kozlowski barks through the open door.

The top button of her black and gold uniform jacket is undone and her granny glasses are pushed back on her forehead. But her pale blue eyes are about three degrees chillier than a frozen lake when she looks at me.

“I thought we had an agreement, Nordqvist. I overlook certain unorthodox aspects of your presence at this Academy, and you keep your head down and
do your duty
.” The words crack like a whip. “Instead, I’m told you are openly questioning the basic doctrine this institution was founded to serve. I have to say, Nordqvist, this does not bode well for your future. Or that of your family.”

She looks out the window. It’s getting dark, and I can hear the faint shouts of a touch football game in one of the nearby playing fields.

“Are you aware that your father is in line for a promotion? His immediate superior, General Gul, is retiring. Some members of the Council feel he has been less than forceful in his handling of the Greenbrier crisis. At the moment, they view your father in a favorable light to take the situation in hand. But that could change. Very easily.”

“Permission to speak, ma’am?”

“Oh yes, please. I’d like to hear it.”

Kozlowski has my number, and she knows it. Instead of threatening me personally, which might or might not have any effect, she’s threatening my parents. Find your adversary’s weak point and squeeze. That’s the essence of what they teach us. For Kozlowski, it comes as naturally as breathing.

So I do the only thing I can at the moment: retreat.

“I just thought it might dispel any lingering doubts among the other cadets about our mission to raise these issues. I expect that our forces aren’t the only ones employing subversive propaganda to undermine enemy morale. The clearer we are about the righteousness of our cause, the less susceptible we’ll be to lies spread by the other side.”

Kozlowski seems genuinely amused. “I see. And are you convinced of the righteousness of our cause, cadet?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I lie.

“Well, that’s very reassuring. If nothing else, you seem to appreciate which way the wind is blowing, and to bend accordingly. With the right friends, you could go far in this prefecture, Nordqvist. Or you could crash and burn.” She smiles coldly, and the implication is clear. I wouldn’t go up in flames alone.

“Since it’s end of term, your behavior in the classroom is a moot point anyway. And you have several points in your favor. I hear you’ve been working very hard these last two weeks, and your performance now exceeds expectations. This is an admirable achievement in such a short period of time, especially considering your less than stellar debut.”

She eyes my uniform, which no longer sags in all the wrong places, and in fact has become a bit tight in the shoulders and thighs.

“You’ve displayed discipline and determination, qualities that I hold in high regard, and should be commended for it.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“In fact, I’ve decided to honor you with a special medal for valor under duress. You survived your abduction by the savages and returned in time to graduate despite physical and emotional hardships. Christ knows, we could use some good publicity around here. The Academy benefits, and you start your career on an upward trajectory. Win-win, wouldn’t you say?”

What can I do but nod?

“Chu is preparing a press release.” One last hard look. “The ceremony will be held Tuesday morning, prior to finals. Don’t disappoint me, Nordqvist.”

She moves to her bookshelves and selects a slim volume. “
The Book of Five Rings
. There are less than a dozen bound copies left in the world that I’m aware of. A classic treatise on military strategy dating back to 1645. Penned by the samurai warrior Miyamoto Musashi. You should read it.”

I have, several times, but I don’t bother telling her that. I just want to get out of here.

She leafs through it for a minute, then looks over as if she’s surprised I’m still around. “Dismissed, cadet.”

Chu glances up at me as I pass his desk on the way out. “That bad?” he says. “I told you, she’s always hardest on the ones she likes.”

It’s a nice thought. But I don’t think like or dislike is much of a factor for the commandant; she operates on the level of pure cause and effect, like a game of billiards. She’s the cue stick and I’m the ball. Strike me at precisely the right angle, and I’ll roll the way she wants. No other outcome is possible.

The yards outside are dark and mostly deserted. No study period tonight. A group of younger cadets passes me, chattering excitedly. Even if you’re not in line to graduate, finals are always a momentous occasion at the Academy.

I stop and lean against a wall. One of the fringe benefits of pushing my body so hard is that it keeps my brain from thinking about my time on the surface. But I’m alone for the first time all day and now, for a minute, I let myself open the door. Just a crack.

We didn’t have much in the way of possessions, and we were always hungry, and we had to worry about running from the canes, but it was more real. I felt like I knew who I was for the first time in my life. I once told Will that I’m a killer. It’s still true. The Academy has shaped me in a million deep and nameless ways, and I’ll never eradicate that. Nor do I necessarily want to. But Will showed me that that’s not
all
I am. There’s room to be other things too.

I miss that feeling of freedom. Of
possibility
.

I miss Charlie’s yarns about the storms when we sat around the evening fire. I miss Nileen and her razor-sharp tongue. I miss Banerjee’s quiet authority and Fatima’s innate decency.

Most of all, I miss Will.

I want him back. I want to know what we could have had but never will, and the pain of that nearly takes my breath away.

Right now I just want to go to my room.  But then a figure emerges from the narrow gap between two buildings and blocks my way.

“Jan?”

I stop. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been waiting for you. We need to talk.”

Jake is wearing rumpled grey sweats and looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.

“No, we don’t,” I say.

“Five minutes.”

I can see he’s not going to let it go. Once Jake gets something in his head, he’s relentless. One of the reasons he’ll make a good agent someday.

“Five minutes,” I say wearily.

He rubs a hand through his short-cropped hair and sighs. “For starters, what happened to you? I feel like they took my girlfriend and gave me back a stranger.”

I can’t help but notice his emphasis on “me” and “my”. This isn’t about what was done to me, Jansin, it’s about what was done to him, Jake. The primary filter through which he views the world.

“We were over before any of it.”

“I risked my life for you, and it means nothing. You’re a cold one, Jansin.”

I feel an overwhelming urge to slap him across the face, hard. All the rage I’ve bottled up for weeks comes pouring out. “Risked your life? You were wearing body armor and sniping people in the back as they ran away. I know what happened. It was a massacre.”

“Some of them had guns. . . Whose side are you on anyway?”

“And what about the kids? Did they have guns?”

There’s an evangelical light in Jake’s eyes that makes me queasy. “We did what we had to do. Those creatures were vermin. They needed to be exterminated.”

Rule one in propaganda is to dehumanize the enemy. Makes it much easier to commit atrocities. I realize then that he has no moral quandary about what went down, none whatsoever.

“Like I said before, you’re a dog, Jake, ready to attack for a pat on the head. I’m sure you’ll do very well for yourself.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” he says calmly.

“Where were you?” I ask.

He doesn’t reply.

“During the operation. Where were you?”

“Goodbye, Jansin.” Jake starts walking away. But there was something in his eyes. . . Maybe I am going crazy.

“Where were you?” I scream at his back.

Jake turns around and looks at me for a moment. Then he smiles, and I hate him more than I’ve ever hated another human being. He won’t answer me. I watch until he disappears around the corner of the boys’ dorms.

The advent of the maglev rail system allowed trade to flourish and injected new life into a society on the verge of atrophy. It also brought war.

We’ve been given the weekend to do anything we want – train, review military strategy, meditate, throw up, whatever – so after a breakfast of synth eggs that taste like scrambled slugs I switch on my computer and start going over the list I made last night.

Nothing very interesting pops up until I hack into the budget for the Novarctic Research Commission and notice an allocation for Substation 99. There’s no indication of precisely where it’s located, somewhere in the far north, but I remember seeing the name before. I go back, checking every record. Twenty minutes later, I find it. A reference to a report filed to the Bureau for Adaptation, Innovation and Resettlement. Under something called Project Nix.

I try to locate the report and soon realize that the level of classification is not only beyond my skills to unravel, it’s completely firewalled from a lowly cadet computer. After two more hours, I concede defeat. Then I search dozens of databases for any reference to Project Nix, and come up empty. But I keep wondering if Substation 99 is also the Tisiphone observation platform.

And if it’s supposed to be closed, then who’s filing reports?

There’s one person at the Academy who would definitely have access to such a report, and that’s Harold Chu. Sweat breaks out on my palms at the very thought of trying to break into his computer. If I were caught, the consequences would be severe to say the least. I’d have to be insane. Totally insane. I sit and stare into space for God knows how long until I realize my foot is tapping compulsively against the leg of my chair and force myself to stop. I hate to admit it, but Jake and I are alike this way. Once we start something, once we gain an inch, we hate to quit. It’s a matter of pride. And I’m onto something. I can feel it.

I don’t have the skills to hack into Chu’s computer. But I know someone who might.

The next day, I corner Perez during our run. The caverns are the only place we’re not watched on camera, so they’re a notorious makeout spot. Libby gives me an amused look as I break away and drag Perez by the arm into one of the side tunnels.

“I need a favor,” I say breathlessly, feeling reckless and stupid and excited all at the same time.

“Sure thing.” Perez studies me. He’s handsome in an almost feminine way, with green eyes and high, delicate cheekbones. Lucky for him, the high-and-tight haircut and faint acne scars save him from being too pretty. “Whatcha need? Paxilin? Dexies? They’re killer to help you focus for the final. I’m waiting on a delivery so the price is a little steep right now.”

“Not drugs. Something more complicated.”

A spark of interest flares in his eyes. More complicated means more money. Perez always did enjoy a challenge. “Like what?”

“Like Chu’s passcode.”

Ever the jaded businessman, Perez doesn’t react immediately. He mulls it over for a minute.

“You can’t get in there remotely,” he says finally. “You’d have to physically sit at his desk.”

“I know.”

“That desperate to hack the final?” he says with a half smile.

“You have no idea,” I say. If he thinks my motives are related to the test, I’m not about to correct him. It’s the perfect cover, actually.

“OK, listen. Even I can’t get you the code itself. I’m not a freaking mind-reader. But I can probably get you a program that would crack it in sixty seconds or less. We’ll go the brute force route. And I don’t want the regular payment. You have to share the wealth. I want the same info you’re getting. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it tight. Deal?” He looks antsy to go. I am too. If we come in way behind the pack, Sergeant Hassan might get suspicious.

“Deal,” I say. “There’s just one more thing.”

I tell him what I need and he nods impatiently. Easy as pie.

We catch up with the last stragglers out of the caverns. Neither of us speaks or even looks at each other for the rest of the day, but when I return to my dorm that night, I find a small package on my cot. I don’t unwrap it, just hold it on my lap, for a long time. Now that I’ve made my decision, I’m unsure again. I’m scared of getting caught, but I’m more scared of what I’ll find in Chu’s computer – nothing. That I’m wrong. That Project Nix is just some routine data-gathering operation. I realize I’ve wanted Will’s story to be true so much that I’ve started believing it. It’s a way of keeping him alive. And if it turns out to be a pipe dream, I’ve lost the last little piece of him that belonged to me.