RP [Yamatai] St. Yukari

[Doshii Jun]

OOC: This thread is about Yukari Freeman's training to become a full member of Star Army Intelligence. It started in the Open RP thread, but was quickly moved to Yamatai's faction forum.

If you have corrections or suggestions, please PM me, and I'll get back to you right away.

* * *

20 January, YE 38

Miharu Light Industries, Midori no Umi

The news she delivered was not well received. Yukari expected that, but felt no dulling of the pain that came with presenting it to Hinoto. She had waited several hours after parting with Tom to secure her things, speak to the sisters about a gift they had planned and make sure any loose affairs were in order. She did not want anything left to decay while she pursued her dream.

A dream Hinoto did not share.

"I am left worried, Yukari-san. That you would choose something like this ... "

Yukari felt so punctured by the words that she leaned back in the chair across from Hinoto's desk, with the backdrop of Midori no Umi painting Hinoto in green-tinged shadow. The clan matriarch's gaze, brilliant as the snow of Ralt on a sunny day, held Yukari in some worry and skepticism.

" ... But if you insist, we will be here for you when you return."

Yukari bowed her body down, grateful for that much. "Thank you, Hinoto-san. I will not let you down."

Hinoto merely nodded. Yukari understood as she took her leave. One cannot be let down if one expects nothing good to come from something.

* * *

21 January, YE 38

Unmarked office, Kyoto Base, Yamatai

"You cannot do this, no matter what you chose."

Yukari felt so sure of her words that she leaned over the desk, hands planted on its smooth black surface. The garish blue-white lighting from the single panel in the tiny office's ceiling cast the features of the Neko before her in ice. Including her dead white eyes that felt too close to Nagase to gaze at and still be comfortable.

"I not only can, Chusa, I did. I did as soon as I heard you were off the Asamoya."Taisa Takomi Rin's mouth hardly moved as she put her focus on Yukari, right between the eyes.

"My record demands better than that. I have served almost 15 years. I have more accolades than you have years of life! One of my medals is worth a half-dozen battleships!" Hyperbole never suited Yukari well, but she pressed anyway.

Plain logic already failed. Despite laying out all of her failings as a SAINT — whether classed as operative or officer — Takomi-Taisa remained unmoved. In her words, Yukari "remained more valuable bottled up close by than set free into the stars." Yukari dropped several names of officers, including the Shôshô's. Takomi-Taisa mentioned something about a Taisho she knew who agreed with her. She tried military rationale, saying that all of the top-level intelligence she had could be put to use in the field. No dice.

"I don't care if you bathed in Yui's own blood for a year," Takomi-Taisa deadpanned. "You stay."

Yukari was running out of options -- and confidence.

"What about a SAINT vessel? You still have hundreds of Yui destroyers at your disposal. I can command the next one called."

"Those are for officer graduates. You only fit half that description."

Yukari's face grew hot. She leaned forward and put her hands on the Taisa's desk, who crossly glared at the intrusion. "I am in the canon when it suits you, then I am absent from it when I am untoward. That cannot stand. If I must be part of this damned collection of ghouls, treat me as such with some consistency!"

The Taisa held her glare a moment. Yukari glared back, sure at least one or two veins added topography to her forehead. The Taisa seemed unimpressed. She flicked her eyes at Yukari's hands. The Chusa took the hint, but she kept up her end of the starting contest.

"You passed SELECT with above average scores, but you didn't go to INDOC, sign the waiver or take the Package. You should have been a no-go. The Shoi and that Black Spiral have more training than you."

Yukari frowned. How is that relevant? she thought. No one tasked her to INDOC. No one required her to sign anything. She went through SELECT, was given a go and left to the care of another Taisa. There were no choices, no options. One day she had white panels; the next day she had black.

Her previous supervisors — when she had been actively supervised — assumed compliance. There were no volunteer assignments, just taskings. Nothing violent. Only a few that she considered mildly concerning. After SELECT, she had an office, paperwork and remote mission work surveying this group, that subject, those foreigners. It was busy work, but she was paid and left mostly alone. Occasionally an operation had benefited from her advisement.

Yukari knew about INDOC, but like the status of Miharu's other crew, she reasoned she was "special."

Especially useless, she thought.

"Then I am even more of a burden. All the more worth there is in letting me command elsewhere. I will sign a NDA, be excomm'd and sent along. Or reverse my GO to NO-GO."

The Taisa leaned back in her chair, slipping her elbows into her opposite hands at her sides. The chair didn't even squeek. A well-oiled officer.

"You're a half-trained asset with too much clearance and without even a quarter of the discipline needed to use it," the Taisa said. "I can revoke your clearance back to confidential, but then you're no good to anyone. If I excomm you, you'll blather to the first sympathetic ear you find. At least as you are, I can keep track of you. That's enough for me. I expect your report on the princess by the end of the day."

"No."

The Taisa finally looked at Yukari. "I assume you're going to afford me a reason not to shoot you for mutiny, Chusa."

"SAINT — " She tripped over her explanation, and the Taisa held up her hand before she could continue.

"Stuff it. You'd just lie anyway, and I don't care to parse the differences." The Taisa leaned forward on her desk with her elbows and forearms, hands flat on the glass. "Domin-Shôshô would never give me her operative's report just because I couldn't get one from you. And I can't punish you into giving me a truthful account. Your limbo goes both ways."

Yukari forced herself not to blink. Though I am grafted to SAINT, it also will protect me from itself? How peculiar.

"So here's my proposal." The Taisa glared at Yukari, dark pupils the only thing visible beneath Takomi's white eyebrows. "You want a ship. I want an operative. As it stands, neither of us get what we want. Go through training, get the Package, sign off — and I will see what I can do about getting you a warship command."

Now the Chusa was taken aback — from the incredulity of the offer. She winced through it. "In what star system is that a trustworthy proposition."

Takomi's stone face looked hardly chipped at the barb. "How many times have we interacted, Chusa."

"Once before. You took over for Basunga-Taisa three months ago, assigned to Special Projects casework. We spoke briefly, and you allowed me to continue consulting."

A white-on-black image panel fluttered next to Takomi's head, displaying Yukari's reverse silhouette and vital records next to it. As it scrolled through what appeared to be her service history, the Taisa spoke.

"You have had a varied and colorful history, Chusa. You've been in Intelligence, Ship Ops, Black Spiral, Flag Aide. Almost 15 years. You've given a lot to the Empire."

Yukari slowly folded her arms in front of her, perturbed. "I know my record."

"Commendations and medals galore, a plentiful bank account, accolades personal and professional. So impressive."

Yukari returned the same dull expression Takomi gave her. "And?"

Takomi narrowed her eyes. "It's all useless to me."

"So sorry," Yukari said in Yamataian.

The Taisa let it go. "You have had six or eight SAINT supervisors in the past four years, depending on how you count. You have been off radar for several of those supervisors." The image panel changed to list the hateful group of six to eight handlers, each with a black X over their faces. Takomi's sterling mug came in as No. 7 or 9, unmarred by a cross.

"Those supervisors were sent here to kill their careers, and it worked. Special Personnel Projects is a hellhole of little regulation, no authority and active hostility. Officers like me get sent here because we pissed on someone's riceballs. Trying to handle you is just a more personal punishment."

Yukari knew little of SPP. It was as the Taisa said, as her knowledge went, but she had not been aware the post was a slow killing ground for disgruntled SAINTs. Or had she just not thought about it?

"You wish not to suffer equally," Yukari said. "Putting me through INDOC saves you from their fate."

The Taisa sent the panel away with a flick of her gaze. Her smile showed hints of pearly teeth just visible between thin, powder-blue lips. She leaned back.

"Why should that desire cause me to trust you?" Yukari asked.

The Taisa's smile shriveled. "Because I'm all you have right now, after you torched your bridges with Kotori warrior princess back there."

Yukari stiffened. "What stops me from waiting you out? Perhaps your successor will be inclined to help me."

"Like the past ones, right?" The sound of cracked knuckles from the Taisa's hands jarred the room. "Meantime, you cycle your engines for nothing."

That was the rub, Yukari thought. That was what had brought her to the office she was in, before the Taisa glowering at her white panels.

Kotori had taught her a valuable lesson, even if it left her edges jagged. To serve the Empire — to address and sate the need to protect its citizens and culture — she needed to stop hiding in the shadows of other people. From Motoyoshi-Taisho through the princess, Yukari served as the second, the bulwark and bridge between her commander and the rest of the galaxy. She had to be ready to step into their shoes, then just as quickly step back out.

Where had that left her? Even Nagase knew — nowhere. She had Tom, a healthy bank balance, some possessions. A few colleagues as friends. An adoptive family. She had a life, but it was outside the military. Outside of where she found satisfaction. Where she found purpose.

But to trust this Taisa, that was a fool's path. There was no reward at the end. Takomi would not keep her word.

"You think I can survive the training?"

"You better. Getting a command depends on it."

"Operatives are not often given command of anything more than a division. Perhaps a Yui."

"Operatives often aren't made when they're 15 years old and already field-grade officers." Takomi stiffened and huffed through her nose. "SPP already is full of abnormalities, one-offs and castaways. There is no 'normal', 'often' or 'usual.' That's partly why this works in your favor. Make up the rules while you go."

Yukari's stare hardened. "SAPM is so accepting now?"

"I didn't guarantee it," Takomi snapped. "I said I'd try. The only guarantee is that you'll go nowhere if you don't go through me."

She didn't look away. Neither did Takomi.

Panic gnawed at her lungs. The training was one thing, but accepting the package meant accepting a potential lack of mental control. She had suffered that often enough in her years. To suffer it again, only for a promise of a command, not a guarantee ... was that worth it?

"I do not want to be under the control of SAINT."

"We're not out there turning our operatives into robots with the tap of a panel." Yukari could see Takomi's minute glance upward, the pressing of her fingertips into the table. She had pushed the exasperated Taisa to her limits. "Especially the good ones. More than half of an operative's value comes from their management of their independence."

Yukari closed her eyes and looked away to think. Takomi added, "It's not done without exceptional cause. Your file never once presented something that would rise to the standard. You made decisions. SAINT doesn't second-guess like that, or our people would never get anything done."

"It is different on a vessel," Yukari said. "I cannot let broad mission objectives needlessly imperil my crew."

"You think our people don't know that?"

"Do they?"

Takomi shot up from her chair, smacking her hands against the table as the chair banged into the back wall. "You think you know better than us? Prove it. Get in there and show how it's supposedly done."

 

[Doshii Jun]

The Package was easy to deliver. Yukari sat in the Soul Transfer machine a little longer than she thought was normal. The backup would be her only one pre-INDOC. If she washed out via death, SAINT would restore her, and off she would go with no memory of her failure.

The extra time was for her body. Setsuna recorded the audio of an ST technician arguing with the Taisa.

"It isn't designed for the 29," the technician sputtered. "We can't predict the results."

"She's SPP," Takomi said.

"Then put her in an Eihei like every other candidate! The emergency verses could fail with this body and OS structure."

"She stays in this body. If she flips out or dies, you'll have a nice paper to write and I'll have one less headache."

"But she's old!" the technician cried. "Her mind isn't fresh enough. It could collapse in on itself."

"Chui," Takomi said.

The soft whirring of the life support system filled the pause between them.

The technician acquiesced. "Yes, Taisa."

Yukari felt the package hit the doorstep of her mind. A denseness squatting in the center. She would watch from inside herself later, floating around a volumetric mockup as a lively blue mass shimmered between her brain. After a moment, it began to rotate and spiral, sending its code out with whispy arms. By the end, much of the mockup had the shimmer, but diluted. At the time, she could feel that sensation, if not see it.

When she awoke, she expected to see sounds and hear color. Steeling herself for a newfound vibrancy, she popped her eyes open and looked out at the sterile grey room with its two technicians and Takomi.

No extra color. No distant smells. One tech slaved over an opaque volumetric pane, her youthfulness marred by a scowl.

"How do you feel?" the other tech asked. Yukari saw red chevrons on the tech's sleeve. A Heisho.

"Disappointed," she replied, looking up at the ST helm still nestled on her head. "I expected more."

"Only when necessary," Takomi cautioned, glancing at the scowling tech. "You'll see it s — what. What?"

The Neko — Yukari noticed a flash of gold on her uniform cuffs — regarded Takomi with an unhappiness borne of being right. "It dispersed almost immediately. I didn't even have time to try a new protocol."

"So?"

Yukari felt the buzz of encrypted telepathy. She watched between Takomi and the Chui, unsure how worried she should be — which multiplied the worry. She felt the package, opened and indeed dispersed, coat her senses and thinking like a fine polish. Or maybe a thin oil. It was SAINT, after all, but the sensation felt familiar. Seasoned. Practiced. Nothing obtrusive or improper. She could not interact with it yet, but she knew it was not the brainwash she'd assumed it was.

"Excuse me?" Yukari asked.

Takomi held up her trigger finger, expression souring by the second. She shot icicles into the tech's face, who doubled over into a bow, gunned down. The tech addressed her pane again and didn't look up as she talked.

"You took to the package well. No issues. Congratulations, Chusa."

Takomi's eyes bored on the tech a second more before she faced Yukari.

"You'll start training tomorrow en route to Vicky."

* * *

NITO HEISHO MOTOYAMA JUNA

I had never seen something quite like it either. The Taisa's reaction was reasonable after all.

That Neko's primary numbers were way off mean. Everything was running into the blue, from core speed and heuristic reasoning to colony sync and command control. Everyone knew about the Ketsurui freaks, with their one-offs and PANTHEON connections. This old Neko wasn't like that. She's been alive too long. Neko don't reach primary numbers like her, even after opening the package and reading the verses.

They argued. I kept low. The Taisa didn't give a millimeter, even with all the good points the Chui made. Like the fact that the old Neko was a freak and unpredictable. And that the package wasn't reliable in her. Or that even a baseline Stealth body was tougher than the 29. That body was for power armor.

Taisa didn't budge. She told the Chui to keep the old hag under constant surveillance, which meant I had to rig her quarters and assign watchers. It didn't seem worth it, but the Chui demanded it. The Taisa gave her that bone, which was gonna be stuck right in my side until I got everything set up. The Chui added nodal support bits to the surveillance detail, and the Taisa let her have that too. What's a weekend after all, right? Damn brass.

All for an old hag. That's a slang term, by the way.

 

[Doshii Jun]

The trip to Vicky was short and restless. No one had time to see the planet, as inspection was scheduled as soon as they deboarded. The task masters of INDOC, a longtime Taisa and her bevy of juniors, guaranteed in their recorded message to candidates that the inspection would be "brutal." Some younger Neko (likely no more that a year) took it seriously, but the older Neko on the ship scoffed.

Yukari had packed as instructed and stayed within the electives allowed -- two personal items, two extra weapons. The items were Setsuna and her loveband. The weapons were Furejônetsu and her Type 28D NSP. All other equipment, from uniforms to toiletries, was standard-issue.

The new Type 37 outfit, with the helmet replacing the cap, was easy for Yukari to wear. It was a snug fit, but one for which it was easy to care. She pressed everything in the laundry facilities onboard the freighter -- ignoring the scowls -- and scrubbed her boots and helmet, just be safe. The body suits were tight, but the lighter shirt option wasn't acceptable for Vicky. Yukari had gloves and a balaclava just in case. Elbow and knee pads were restricted, though she didn't know why. The armored vest was too; armor was to be distributed when necessary, an in-processing desker told her. The issued weapon was a Type 33 NSP Dark, which she also had from her Black Spiral days (she gave it a quick buff). On her left wrist she tied her loveband with a kiss. Setsuna occupied the other, phased from view despite the cuff faintly outlining her.

The freighter touched down with an uncustomary lurch. Yukari criticized the freighter's piloting in her head, but she saw the problem on a summoned image panel in the hold. A snow storm had led the pilot to land them a few hundred meters shy of the entrance. They were told over helmet comms that they would get no closer via ship, and that they had to make their way to the entrance.

Yukari glanced around her as the bridge crew worked to lower the loading gate into the snow. She could see no faces or summon any data, but the rank patches told her a lot. Nineteen others stood with her in the empty hold, and two of the 19 were officers -- a Shoi and a Kohosei. Eleven were warrants -- two Santô, three Nitô, six Ittô. Four were Heishos, each a Jôtô. The two junior enlisted were a Jôtô and a Santô.

If even one had been half her age, she would have been surprised.

When the gate lowered, the frigid air from outside consumed the hold. Yukari saw the chill hit some of the candidates, their shivers rustling their backpacks. Yukari shuddered too; Setsuna kindly reported the temperature was about -10 degrees, according to the freighter's sensors. Visability was a wavering meter, as bloated flakes of snow fell like buttermilk. She took a few seconds to adjust her infrared vision, hoping to reach a sensitivity that would illuminate the base entrance. The only brightness came from her fellow candidates. Beyond that, there was black.

She tried to radio the base, but she received no response. She queried the freighter's computer for its last lock on target and received a waypoint 300 meters in the distance to her left. A simple, infrequent and low-power ping was guiding the ship to its destination.
Yukari tuned Setsuna to the beacon's channel, but she heard no ping.

Meanwhile, many candidates already were on the move. A group, led by a Heisho, went full-flying-tilt into the storm. The Shoi led another group to start going below the snow, using basic tools found inside the freighter and their NSPs. Two Heishos looked at each other, nodded and started trekking out into the snow together.

Within a minute, Yukari stood inside the empty cargo bay with a Heisho and a Hei.

The Heisho stepped into Yukari's view and waved a hand. She got the Hei's attention too, then tapped her helmet's "ear." She closed her hand into a fist, then pointed upward while moving her hand up and down.

Yukari blinked, then caught on with a quick text translation from Setsuna. "Radio silence. Could be monitored." Yukari nodded to the Heisho. The Hei did too. Yukari caught herself before trying telepathy -- when the Heisho's attention was back to her, she tapped the center of her forehead and made a fist. The Heisho and Hei nodded too.

Yukari's signing, beyond the basics, was rusted. The Heisho and Hei were fresher. She kept up with Setsuna's help.

"Situation abnormal," the Heisho signed. "Bad dropzone."

"Orders?" the Hei asked the Heisho, who glanced at Yukari's cuffs and then at her helmet.

"Way obstructed," Yukari signed after a moment. "Dropship abnormal."

"Assault command post?" the Heisho asked, pointing to the back, where the path to the bridge lay behind a shut door.

"Double-time," Yukari motioned, as she and the two soldiers drew their NSPs. "Stealth if you can."

The Heisho and Hei slowly faded away. Yukari frowned, but she took point and got the the door first. She flicked the safety of her weapon to "pulse." When she heard a "thunk" against the wall across the doorway -- one of her compatriots pressing against the wall -- she reached over and unlatched the door, pulling it open across her.

Her second partner's footsteps tapdanced past the door and through the narrow corridor. Yukari recognized the vessel's model -- a Courier, modified to section up its cargo bay. The elevators were at the back. She waited for her first partner to rush through, then she followed, sweeping the ceiling with her pistol until she determined there were no contacts.

They repeated the maneuvers until they reached the elevator, which was clear too. They took it up to the second deck, cautiously moved out from there and down the unlit hallway to the second set of elevators. Yukari, shifting to low-light vision, took wary note of the empty state of the ship -- glances into the open-doored quarters showed neatly made beds, pristine floors and not a single personal effect. On the upper levels, the air was warmer, but not by as much as she would expect for crew. And it was stale. The lights in the cargo hold had been on low power.

They rode up the elevator to the top deck and cleared their immediate -- and also unlit -- area. Yukari swung them around to the bridge door, then halted them.

"Switch to stun," she signaled. "I break. You breach."

The two soldiers nodded and took positions on either side of the door. Yukari took a deep breath and let it out slow. She raised her pistol, still on pulse, and fired two fast shots at the door's locking mechanism. The door snapped open on the second shot, parting for them to reveal the also unlit bridge.

Nekomachina.

 

[Doshii Jun]

The Heisho, Hei and Yukari each looked at the four robots glaring back at them with round black lenses staring out of flat, blue, metallic faces. They had no weapons as they stood at the control panels for the alleged bridge crew. They did not even turn their bodies to face the interloping trio. Fingers clicked and swiped at switches and knobs, beating buttons and whipping levers.

"You are not authorized to be here," said the closest one over a tinny speaker off its shoulder. "Please speak to your training officer."

The Hei looked to the Heisho. Behind the taller Neko's helmet, Yukari imagined wide eyes locked in a perplexed stare. The Heisho grunted over the radio and turned to Yukari, who gave a firm nod.

The two soldiers pumped heavy bolts of white-blue scalar energy into each ignorant robot. None attempted to dodge. They crashed off panels and clattered on the metal deck, each a shambles. The Heisho approached the comm and slapped a dangling hand off of it. She made a few pointed taps at a faded console.

"Radio is out," she huffed through her helmet comm. With the ship's comm down, there was little worry of being monitored.

The Hei started on systems reports at the ship operator's controls. "Other than our part of the ship, life support has been down since takeoff from Yamatai, ma'am." It was unclear to whom the Hei, youthful exuberance barely in check, referred. "Fusion reactor went to minimal power after clearing orbit. How did we get here?"

"Crew logs are blank," the Heisho gruffed. "SI isn't even functional." SI was the ship's synthetic intelligence.

Yukari made her weapon safe and holstered it onto her chest. "Sensor records?" she asked as she went to the commander console.

"Never activated ma'am," the Hei said.

Yukari wanted to take off her helmet, give her ears room to spread and breathe. The field helmet was not strictly designed for Neko. She kept it on for the moment; she didn't know for certain the ship was clear of hostiles. Little seemed as it appeared, a common complaint she had with SAINT.

" ... Towed." Yukari brought up the navigation logs to pinpoint where the vessel's systems found an opportune time to shut down. It was after clearing Yamatai's orbit, but within the heavily trafficked zone between Yamatai and her lunar orbits. A good spot for a pick-up.

"Or hangared?" the Hei hoped.

"Yes," Yukari replied as she bissected travel time with ship specs. One way or another, the ship did not arrive at Vicky alone. " ... Power control refuses to respond."

"Why would they go to all this, ma'am?" the Hei asked.

Yukari closed the console vanel. "A test." One we likely have not passed.

"Yeah," the Heisho said, leaving the comm and facing Yukari. "Let's risk the snow. They aren't going to kill us all, right?"

Yukari understood the Heisho. "How best to do so ... "

"AMES?" the Hei said. The Heisho folded her arms in front of herself. "There has to be a few, right?"

"They are in Engineering," Yukari said. The trio left the bridge, weapins drawn, and returned to the dark of the rest of the ship. Low-light vision was enough to see for the short walk to Engineering, thanks to the light coming through the bridge's transparent viewscreen.

Once they turned the corner, Yukari turned on her pistol's light. Her comrades followed suit, and they swept the bright white beams across the deck, the walls, along lockers and chests and racks — until they saw one small cabinet marked "AMES" in emergency volumetric paint, behind the first half-wall of the section.

The contents left them underwhelmed.

They spread them out anyway. Five suits, three damaged by use. Two complete sets of gloves, one mismatched. Two functional, sealable helmets. Two grapple guns, one low on polymer.

Yukari ordered the enlisted to suit up.

"Ma'am — " the Heisho started.

"It is an order, Heisho." Yukari shone her pistol light just to the side, to give them an easier time seeing as they dressed.

The Neko paused, then started to disrobe. The Hei joined her.

The Heisho had hair barely long enough to reveal its green shade, with hard and narrow brown eyes set into a longer face. Her chin stuck out, and Yukari saw her fangs and incisors gleam from between scowling brown lips. Her ears had much longer fur, perhaps two centimeters, but their shape was short, stubby. Fit for a helmet. Her body hadn't the typical slimness, either. She was cut from her ankles to her neck. If the Heisho had been Nepleslian, Yukari imagined she would see many scars. Her palms had shooting callouses.

The Hei was soft and fresh. Her electric blue hair shimmered, even in the bun that held it all together. She carried such a starry expression with her hunter orange irises reflecting in the limited light. Lithe and pretty, she stunned. Yukari knew the type, with underwear so new, she could smell the laundry soap.

Yukari checked their time since the doors lowered — 13 minutes and counting. Were they taking too long? Had the other groups made it? Would her actions doom the two with her?

Too late to weigh that now. The pair had donned the AMES and were checking their integrity. Yukari folded and gathered their uniforms into her pack. It was a tight fit that wrinkled them but she bet on having time to return them to their rightful owners later. Wearing blue, the Heisho gave a thumbs up. The Hei mimicked her, clad in an amber-yellow. They swapped their pistols for grapple guns.

They trekked back to the hold, which already had ice-sheen walls and creeping flurries in corners. Had it become even more white beyond the dropoff gate? Setsuna intoned the temperature at negative 10 degrees inside the cavernous space, but beyond was a cold even Ralt didn't see -- negative 60 degrees. Some part of the ship's navigation bubble still worked to keep the hold at such a reasonable, bone-chilling temperature.

Each Neko shot a pool of polymer webbing into Yukari's hands. She gripped the pools, feeling it mesh and solidify around her gloves, and the pair slowly floated up. They faced the white-grey sheet beyond the hold's open portal. Yellow shook out her free hand, then her legs and feet before rolling her head. Heisho Blue craned to look Yellow's way. Probably to glare, Yukari thought, but who could tell. Yellow stopped her fidgeting and squared with the outside.

They took off in formation, side my side, full tilt. Yukari saw and felt the web strands bounce and move along the deck for a few seconds, then they were swept to her left, until they bunched together in the lower left corner of the hold's portal. They didn't pull at her or strain under a load. They were like hair ribbons in the wind, pushed one direction and flittering along the stream.

A minute passed. Two. She held steady. Three. Three-thirty. They were almost 20 minutes behind the first groups now. She tugged at the grey, stringy ropes, pulling up slack. There was enough to pool a loop or so at her feet. She couldn't hear the stretch of the material when she pulled it right. She waited. Ten seconds crawled by as she hoped someone was at the end of one of the ropes.

Yukari felt a tug on her left hand. The Heisho. She tugged back. Another in reply. She brightened; at least one made it across. But what of the Hei? She pulled with her right hand and found only slack.

She slowly drew her kodachi and carefully severed the rope from her right hand.

A thin patch of the material clung to her palm; it wanted to stick to itself. Sacrificing the glove wasn't a good option, but she didn't want to waste more time going back to get an AMES glove that was out of uniform anyway.

She grabbed the rope with the newly grippy palm and tugged again. Another distant tug came in reply. Yukari took a deep breath and drew a hot pink line across a mental picture of the rope's path, tracing it through the wall of blizzard before her and to the Heisho's shooter. All she had to do was hold the line and fly fast.

So easy to say. Not easy to survive.

She held the rope taunt, digging her boots into the frozen rubber-coated deck. It cracked under the pressure. Yukari frowned and tried to plant her feet anyway. I should have fought for a command.

She took another deep breath and glared out at the snow. 22 minutes.

Go!

 

[Doshii Jun]

Yukari felt it the moment she took off. The package didn't suddenly take over as she left the ground like a rocket, arms above her head like a diver. There was a ceiling like frosted glass, just beyond the top of her head, and she hadn't seen before. As she crossed beyond the ship's navigation bubble and into the life-snuffing cold, the ceiling revealed itself as a icy mirage. She never had truly been held back or restricted. Her mind just made her feel that way. The package was like a mental adjustment. A new perspective on being Neko.

She felt the fabric of her uniform start to frost over. Her helmet probably had one big pile of snow on it, as did her hands in front of her. She stuck to the line. She closed her eyes so she could see it better, to ignore the rope being carried away in the wind. Faster. She willed her body to it, to slice through the blizzard and the dark. Cold sank into her skin and tried to hook her body downward. She didn't have much feeling in her shoulders. Her head felt heavy. The snow probably was quite soft. A crash landing might make a nice bed.

She mentally shook herself, squeezing her hands into fists. Hold the line. Hold th —

Setsuna blared a telepathic warning at her; she snapped her eyes open and tried to stop. Yukari saw imposing black doors just in time to watch herself collide with them. She slammed on the "brakes", throwing her arms and legs forward, projecting all her gravity manipulation at whatever mass was in her way.

She hit the doors anyway. Her arms and legs gave way, crumpling as she went flat against the monolithic entrance. Her chest impacted too; her NSP bounced against her body, flashing pain across her left side and sternum. Her helmet cracked against the seamless surface, whiplash lessened as she floated back, spinning in air, trying to balance herself through the galaxy of stars bursting across her eyes. Maybe, she thought, this is what humans meant when they said they felt "hit by a truck."

She couldn't focus very well, but she knew she wasn't in snow. Below her looked like ship decking. Yukari gently guided herself down, two shapes — amber and blue — waiting to help her down to her feet. The AMES did well; the pair looked unharmed. The Heisho said a few words, but Yukari wasn't yet recovered. She received environmental data, however, from her ears, even through her helmet. The wind howled beyond the decked area, maybe five meters away, but they otherwise were safe.

Safe ... From what? Hostiles? Like something was alive on this planet ...

Yukari peered at the blue shape as it helped her right herself. She put one hand to her helmeted head, just to feel how cold it was. Chilled it certainly was, but no frost, snowpack or even moisture. She looked at her hands, but they seemed fine too.

"They're waiting inside," the Heisho's voice said over the comm. Yukari nodded, then regretted it, and her first few steps, as her body struggled to come down from the flight. The Hei hooked her arm to Yukari's as they walked through a small portal at the foot of the black slab doors.

The chill inside was cold, but above freezing. The huge flood lights above them cast teal-white rays every which way, giving the impression that the fortress was all ice. Her feet tapped against artificial deck, though, so Yukari knew they were in a real part of the base, not a cavern shaped from it. She forced her eyes to adjust to the light inside, bypassing her helmet's visor as she looked from moving, inky patches to cool, still pools. She saw the inspection line standing ahead, with five or six Neko facing them.

As she got closer to the group, Yukari let go of the Hei and walked on her own, shifting her backpack on her shoulders. Would the two who assisted her be counted as out of uniform? Could she afford to worry?

One candidate of ... 19. Yukari's count came up with one fewer candidates than they had. Someone had not made it. Someone Yukari did not know, would not know. She took her place at the end of the line, after the Heisho and Hei had formed up with helmets still on. Standing up straight made her head a little light again. She looked out, out at the other end of what she took to be a hangar bay. She hadn't looked around to gather her surroundings. What she saw was a wall of smoothed ice meters and meters high, with a corridor perhaps two people shoulder-to-shoulder wide, that went just as high, in the middle. What was down the corridor, she could not see. At her angle, she couldn't even make out a door.

Three Neko stood before them, wearing snow gear. Two had their hoods and visors on, but the one showed her face. Yukari couldn't make out any ranks on any of them. Her vision finally felt stable. She slowly drew in a breath and held it for a moment as the lead one, a snow-white Neko of no particular stature, stepped forward from the line.

She started at one end of the line with her eyes. Yukari knew the look of a reviewing superior officer before, but this one seemed to take it to the extreme, looking down her nose as if the line was comprised of children.

"Your souls." Her voice thickly filled the cavernous space. "Be damned."

She paused, still looking at the lead candidate.

"Save the Empire."

Her eyes ticked over.

"This phrase will be a phrase you hear only at this time. Here, now, as you step foot into this vault of excellence. I will not repeat it. Your superiors and cadres will not repeat it. You will not repeat it."

She looked to the third candidate; Yukari could barely make out her eyes moving.

"To the outside world, SAINT simply knows. That is our essence. It is our aura. It preceeds each step, each shot, each whisper. We know. But it is not what drives us."

Her head barely moved to No. 4.

"What drives us is the will to save this Empire at any cost. Even our own immortal souls."

The words sunk into Yukari, but she imagined the other Neko did not quite understand.

"The will to die. FOREVER!" That word shook Yukari's legs to water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other Neko tense up. Forever. A concept meant to be positive.

"Even a visit from ETERNAL DEATH. Must not stop you from the only purpose you carry in your souls. Save. The Empire."

No. 5 now. Yukari thought she saw the Neko jump.

"We are not special forces. Cast out to places distant only to snap off a round or rescue a wayward civilian. We are not Samurai, bound by loyalty, honor and morality to conduct our affairs just so. We are not merely Star Army soldiers, troops to be fielded into battle to soak enemy fire and crush our enemies with force. We are not diplomats. Police. Militiawomen. Guerrllias.

"WE ARE THE ELITE." Her eyes bored through No. 6. "We are the first and last line of defense, the final hope of an Empire faced with certain destruction. Without us, Yamatai falls."

No. 7 must have tightened every muscle in her body, frozen or otherwise.

"When innocents must die, we are the killers. When politicians must be corrupted, we are their pushers. When heroes must fall, we are their villains. What we do is nothing short of necessary to keep the Empire alive."

The white of the Neko's eyes was so pure, with the pupils so black, all framed by flat porcelain cheeks. Not like Hinoto's gaze, gentle but weighty. They were twin asteroids flying from the face of a star.

"While you are here, you will live these words. They will be the borders of your existence, keeping you on goal — to be written into the canon. No other purpose will enter your mind, lest you die."

Halfway through the candidates, she stepped to shift herself toward the others. Her long white hair cascaded down the back of her head to pool in her coat's hood.

"There are no rewards. There is no glory. For us, there is SAINThood and the Empire."

She stopped, and Yukari remembered to breathe. The blank Neko folded her arms behind her back.

"Your training will be brutal and unforgiving. If you believe yourself shaped into the perfect officer, the best soldier, the ultimate fighter, you will fail. You have not yet been forged into your full potential. That is what we will do to you here.

"Rest is a luxury only death will deliver to you. Your waking moments will be spent on training or exercises. Your sleeping moments will be filled with classes and other training. Twenty weeks is not a long time, but it is enough to turn you into one of us."

She moved then, up to No. 13 with steps slow and practiced, each click of her metal-tipped boots hitting something more than mere ice. Yukari tried to watch out of the corner of her vision.

"If you can make it. Many of you will fail. Some will die."

No. 13 almost stepped back.

"Our only grace upon you is that death. You will not remember your failure and the shame that comes with it. If your life ends here, it will be reborn elsewhere, without memory of what happened."

She started down the line this time with her head forward, not looking at anyone. "Your names are what we say they are. Your ranks are meaningless. Your past irrelevant beyond how it serves you here. Your friends, family, lovers will be your undoing if you let them past these frigid walls.

"Accumulate enough points through the scoring system here to achieve SAINThood — nothing else can matter."

She stopped before Yukari. The Chusa could smell something on her; a perfume of rosewater and mint, sweet and cool. Her neck didn't seem to crease as she turned her head to stare through Yukari's eyebrows.

"YOUR SOULS BE DAMNED," she boomed. "SAVE THE EMPIRE."

 

[Doshii Jun]

The Neko turned her back to go up the line again, as if to give each candidate another once-over. I have heard Mishhu more frightening than her, Yukari thought as she breathed again, but her stare leaves me hollow in ways their voices did not.

Another moment passed as the Neko came to the head of the line again. She precisely turned on her heels and marched off without so much a second glance. Another Neko replaced her, one with no hood or visor. Just a smoothly shaved dome. She put her hands on her hips. A Type 28 Submachine Gun was slung over her chest, with an NSP at the opposite hip. She stood tall, but it was hard to see anything else about her with the snow gear on. Her face, though, looked chiseled from years of hard exercise.

"Names, quarters and roommates will all be sent to you once you're dismissed," she shouted, each word cracking like a gunshot. Yukari imagined she faced a one-Neko firing squad. "Report to your quarters and settle in. You'll get prompts as you go. Read them. Get used to each other too; you're all gonna get real intimate the next 20 weeks."

She paused. No one had breath left to reply.

"I'm the XO. That's how the vault refers to me, and that's how you'll refer to me. To my left is the TO" — a petite blonde who somehow filled out snow gear — "and your three cadres, who you will meet tomorrow. The vault will introduce itself as you go.

"Who just spoke to you is the CO. She is your ultimate judge."

Yukari pegged the CO as another SAINT Taisa. Someone who had served longer than Takomi. The zeal with which she spoke burned in sharp contrast to the XO's unconcerned instructive tone.

"You've got about six hours to rest up. We start with tests tomorrow to get baselines for where you're all at. That's a lot of the first couple weeks, while you're taking in classroom training. Then we'll get into it."

She took a final look from behind her visor, then nodded. "DISMISSED!" Yukari felt shot through the heart.

The two remaining Neko departed down the corridor, footsteps echoing along the ice walls and back at the candidates. There they stood another couple minutes more, until they could not be seen.

One finally broke rank — and how. Standing near the top of the line, she spun and brought out her hands wide, facing the line and clapping a couple times to draw everyone to her. Some of the (presumably) younger Neko started moving toward her, but Yukari reshuffled her pack on her back and started walking toward the corridor, prompts already edging at the corners of her vision.

"Hey!" someone called from off Yukari's shoulder, loud enough that she heard it through radio and helmet. She turned to look at the perturbed voice and saw another helmeted Neko waving her arm at Yukari and a couple others to form on her. Yukari waved her off and continued moving. The Neko was a candidate, just like the others, meaning she had no rank beyond "grunt." With that, Yukari could feel the soreness of cold and impact start to set in, and she wanted to be in a bed — likely a stone block — before it got worse.

"HEY!" the voice intensified and Yukari looked again. Labels had started to materialize above the heads of each candidate, written in black, bold Yamataian script. The one doing the yelling was named Gnosis.

"We're going to want to work together, you know," Gnosis said across the radio. "You — " She stopped and snrked. "Nevermind, you're probably tired, huh? Go get some rest! Maybe we can bring you some warm milk later."

The radio filled with laughter, and Yukari peered at Gnosis. Warm milk? She inquired for her label.

"Baba," the vault AI "Mishlei" replied to her. Yukari's frown hit the floor as she glared at the internal image panel with the Yamataian script staring back at her with toneless laughter.

She stiffened and shifted her pack again. She turned away and kept walking, followed by a couple of the Neko. Mishlei helpfully informed her via text that she was being trailed by Mousse — the older Neko she'd already worked with — and Buta Manju. The names offer strong evidence that this place is not run by stable souls. Yukari at first looked around at the icy corridor as she followed the projected path to her room, but soon she saw there was no variation in the natural smoothness of the frozen water, so she absorbed the prompts instead.

Classrooms tended to be telepathic, i.e. virtual and across Mishlei's network. That favored some candidates more than others, Yukari thought. They also could start at any time, day or night, without much warning, again favoring candidates that could divide their processes effectively. Yukari considered herself in that camp, but time would tell for certain.

Physical training also happened at odd hours, but always happened each 24-hour cycle, at least once. What the training was varied. It could be martial training, pathfinding, hikes/runs, weight lifting, crosstraining, environmental survival or anything in between and combined. Sometimes, class was held at the same time.

Field exercises and training were matched to the themes for the weeks. The first couple of weeks appeared to be a kind of modified retread — light combat recon, direct action and operational planning. Yukari assumed planning came first, with recon and action being the applied evolutions. She wondered where, and how, those evolutions would be used further down in the course. There was nothing outside but snow.

Mishlei pointed out to Yukari that the Neko had missed her room. She blinked as she stopped and looked over her shoulder and into the small room that was to be her home for 20 weeks.

 

[Doshii Jun]

The only light came from the hallway. It made for a cavernous effect as she stepped in, ducking her head through the narrow entryway to get inside. The frozen ceiling, at its apex, was centimeters from the top of Yukari's helmet. It convexed behind an outcropping of a bed that barely was wide enough to fit one person. All told, the widest point of the room was the floor, at a bit more than two meters. The floor roughly was that deep too. Yukari saw that the walls were false in places, revealing holes of shelving space.

She searched for a lamp but didn't find one. She considered using low-light vision, but she wanted to see the details, know them in her mind. Yukari set her bag down on the bed and drew her NSP. She hit the safety, then the torch.

The bed actually looked comfortable, cramped as it was. The blankets were thick white wool. So were the linens, and the pillow was a buckwheat sack wrapped in rough black wool. Yukari thought about where they kept the sheep. The bedframe looked like a bluish ice coffin, but a gloved swipe along its edge confirmed it was instead a polymer one. She narrowed her eyes and brought her light back up to the wall, then touched it. Polymer too. So not carved out, but encased. A metal cave might have been more sturdy, but only expensive metals were efficient insulators. Polymer, especially if double-layered with a vacuum between, worked better.

Not even a bedstand between the two beds. Yukari twisted her lips to the side and did a once-over on the rest of the space. There was a door — more like a drop-down black-out shade, but not likely to keep them much warmer. The switch for it was above the archway entrance. She decided against trying it; her roommate, whoever she was, would not appreciate pushing through it.

She set her pack on her bed and put her pistol on her pillow, pointed along its length to illuminate the contents of her pack as she emptied it. The two complete utility uniforms, in Multi-Net3 camo fabric, she refolded and placed on the big shelf. Next came the limited bag of toiletries, with toothbrush and paste, three soap bottles and some extra hairties. The soap would be hell on her hair, but she could not bring nearly enough shampoo for how long her hair was. She got to bring one hair instrument, so she elected to take a wild pig-bristled brush. Towels and washcloths rounded out the bag, which she put up next to the uniforms.

She had two extra pairs of black Type 22 boots, the only ones allowed by SAINT. Underwear was also the Type 29 variety with six bras, six boyshorts, eight pairs of black socks and four white T-shirts. SAINT did afford Type 38 sweatshirts to candidates, but they were black and grey, not Star Army colors. All of these she folded and placed on the other side of the boots, which formed two neat rows next to the toiletry bag.

Her gunmetal Type 36 communicator she stuck to the side of her bed.

SAINT operatives didn't fall into permanent spacy or terrestrial forces, so they did not receive the famous floating flashlight, Type 30 shelter or the other useful bits of kit. They did get an e-tool, a special polymer-encased metal one for use in the snow. No knife, which made Furejonetsu much more important, big as it was. A first-aid kit that she would keep in her buttpack, with updated Molecure bandages and dressings. The only headgear was her helmet, which she finally took off. The air indeed was cold as she breathed in deep, but not as cold as she thought it would be. The e-tool she put next to the underwear, with the helmet next to that. Her kodachi went next to her, in bed.

Finally, her personal items that she had not kept on her. Her old NSP went under her pillow, while her Dark NSP she elected to holster when she was done and put near her bed. Her loveband and Setsuna would not leave her wrists.

Setsuna. Yukari had almost forgotten about her, having placed her in stasis mode. As she moved her pack down to the foot of her bed, she brought her AI compatriot back to life. The unit had more than 80 percent power left, but it registered the ability to charge from the base's wireless power streams.

"Setsuna?" Yukari asked.

"Yes Chusa," the AI replied. "All systems nominal."

"Can you interact with the base KAMI?"

"Interaction sustained. It is coolly receptive. Another AI was not anticipated."

Yukari took out the three spare magazines she had for her old NSP and put them along the back edge of the bed, just under her pillow. "Do not tell me it feels threatened by you."

"It does not," Setsuna stated. "It is surprised. Most of its interaction comes from candidates via communicators or direct telepathy."

"Can we expect cooperation?"

"It will take time, but it is intrigued. It has not been allowed to connect to other devices for some time. I will speak to it."

Yukari nodded, taking inventory of her utility belt — three extra Dark magazines, the space for Furejonetsu, buttpack for her first aid kit. "Will it inform us of where we are?"

"Vicky," Setsuna said. "This is SAINT's training facility. The base KAMI is that of an old starship, one of many linked together by tunnels to form the base's facilities. We are in the vessel closest to the surface. There are several more vessels below us."

She started to undress, folding up each item of clothing as she took them off to put them up with the other uniforms. She stuck her bag in the gap between her bed and the entrance-side wall. "Are we the only class being trained at this time?"

"No," Setsuna said. "The KAMI states that there are several other classes being taught at this time. Each is greeted the same way."

So reassuring to know we are not special. Yukari dressed down to her underwear and rubbed her bare arms as she looked at the corridor, hearing footsteps nearing. A tall Neko with a FatBoy over one shoulder and her bag over the other glanced at Yukari as she walked by the open portal. She smirked, but that was it. She didn't even stop to laugh. "Taiho," her name read.

Yukari tugged her lips into a lopsided frown, but she turned away to her bed. Her stomach grumbled a little; she went to her bag and took out one of the few nutrition bars she had. She brought it with her to bed, never losing grip of it as she pulled back the wool blankets and sheets. The fabric was chilly; Yukari shivered as she slipped between the layers, but she knew it would warm soon. The mattress was a buckwheat design similar to the pillow, but with multiple smaller bags filled with the stuff. She wiggled her hips and shoulders to get the hulls to shift and mold to her body.

Tearing the bar's packaging open, she saw another Neko walk by. This one had hair the color of the sun, though Yukari could not see much else. She clutched her bag over her back in one hand,her helmet in the other. "Sunbeam." She ripped a chunk of the bar off with her teeth. Peanut butter. The flavor she least enjoyed. She sent her eyes into the ceiling as she ate. Maybe 30 seconds passed before she heard footsteps enter the room.

"Shibou" had a rude nickname, and an inaccurate one. The taller, brown-skinned Neko had the perfect trim look most Neko had. She cast bright hazel eyes at Yukari, offered a somewhat restrained frown, then went about to her side of the little cavern to unload and organize.

"You're the old one," Shibou said as she sorted her essentials.

"You are the 'fat' one," Yukari retorted.

"Don't get in my way," Shibou mumbled. She placed a Type 28 SMG, complete with chest strap, next to the bed. Yukari saw the safety was off as she tore anoher bite from her bar.

"A fine weapon," Yukari complimented.

"Better than a pistol," Shibou said. She also had a TA-14 knife, which Yukari watched her stick between the mattress and bedframe. "You learn to value real firepower when you're a tank commander."

"I see," Yukari said, though she did not see. The pistol was more compact, and the SMG was not approved. "You commanded a tank?"

"A tank company," Shibou corrected. "Several tanks at once."

"Oh," Yukari said. Shibou had her uniform pieces rolled up in her bag; she pulled them out to shelve them atop each other. "You are an experienced leader then."

"Three tours," Shibou said. "Two unit citations."

Yukari turned in bed and leaned on one elbow. "Impressive."

"That's what you get for being in the shit," Shibou said. "Something a spaceborne wouldn't know."

"Yes," Yukari agreed, the swipe meaning little to her. "So you are well prepared for this?"

"One of the best prepared," Shibou quietly boasted as she put her issued pistol up on the shelf. "If you want to get through this, stick close."

"Thank you for the advice," Yukari replied. "I will try."

Shibou nodded without glancing Yukari's way, then went to the shade at the entrance and dropped it with a flick of the switch. Yukari saw that while it might not help warmth too much, it didn't leave any gaps with the entrance. The cavern became much darker. Shibou started to undress as Yukari finished her bar. The older Neko put the wrapper up and behind her uniforms, then lay back down and turned away from Shibou's dark, shapeless form folding clothes.

"Goodnight, Shibou-san," Yukari offered as she pulled the blankets tight around her body.

" 'Night," Shibou gruffly replied as Yukari shut her eyes to sleep.

 

[Doshii Jun]

"ShHHUH — "

Yukari awoke from the latest nightmare with her eyes wide. Her breath was gone, pulled away by the terror. She threw the blanket back.

Her grip on her NSP was tight. She covered each entry and hiding point in the room with a darting glance and a steady hand.

It was dark. Her mental clock told her that as much as her eyes. Colors were muted as she did a slower second-check of the room. Shibou slept in her bed, a fresh hemosynth patch stuck to the top of her mostly shaved head. She breathed through her mouth, as her nose was not yet fully healed from the last mission. The gunshot that taught the tank commander to always wear your helmet's facemask.

It came after the gunshot that reminded her about her helmet.

Yukari tried to breathe. She counted backward in Raltean. Hundre ... nitti-ni ... nitti-åtte ... The unfamiliarity of the numbers made her focus on the wind-down. Her throat she slowly worked open first, then her lungs coasted down from their adrenaline surge. Then her stomach, though the bruises made it difficult. She paused between 68 and 67 to let the pain fade before she kept going.

It was too cold to sweat, even if she could have. They'd learned after a couple days of igloo-like warmth in the rooms that SAINT had hidden vents that sucked out the heated air and pumped in fresh stuff from the planet surface. She slept in her full field uniform, jacket and all, with the blanket tucked around her; if she was not to be warm, she at least was prepared.

She shifted the blanket away and moved her legs off the bed. Her feet went to her boots. Yukari put them on.

Sleep had fled in the face of the nightmare.

Yukari equipped herself and left her cavern to find the restroom. Alert as she was, Setsuna's line drawn into her vision helped a great deal. The entrance was 50 meters or so down the main hallway. She hung a left, her boots hardly making a sound as she practiced her gravity assisted walking. Swift and silent. Swift and silent. Swift and silent ...

The lights came on as she stood before one of the small communal sinks.

A madwoman looked back at her. The picture of some wrung-out junkie soul, a Yamataian stereotype of Nepleslian slums. Sallow and racoon-eyed. An occasional unbalance to them followed by a stiffening plea for bodily control. Yukari peered back at the madwoman, then reached out to touch her razor-cut hair, with its abrupt, untailored ends. None reached so far as a couple centimeters from her skull. The hollowed cheeks brought out her cheekbones, including the nearly healed bruise along the left side of her face in the shape of a rifle butt.

Could lips be white? Yukari leaned on her hands that held onto the sink. Her coat hung from her frame a little more than before. Around the shoulders, she thought. The body armor she'd stolen from a commando she'd killed did compensate, but it wasn't enough. The layer of curve she always had maintained with swimming had been shaved off and consumed during the days and days of fighting while not eating.

Tom would still want me. Silly Yuki-san.

She wanly smiled. Her face ached from the effort, but pain slowed her less than it once did. Her ribs ached too, but that was just breathing through a couple added knocks from a rifle butt.

Her clock suggested a time of 0245 hours. In five minutes, it would be time for her martial arts lesson for the day, followed by her teaching of the art of hair. That was the deal made with the Heisho-san.

Five weeks, she thought, counting the time and events as she did each day. Two washouts, both by death. One firm alliance among four recruits, with the others making deals as convenient.

No failures for me yet. No bad grades. No perfect grades either. Three lost fistfights. Six won shooting competitions. Three live missions complete, one as second-in-command.

Two successful assassinations.

She breathed. And the light at the end of the tunnel shines bright, for I shall be graceful under pressure.