Several minutes later, with the help of Olin’s ability to divide his focus, the last of us set foot on top of the cliff above the Butterfly start circle. Whether through luck or by design, a shelf built into the top of the cliff shields us from the citadel rising at our backs.
Quietly, we fan out in both directions. I test my grip on the jagged surface of the plasteel engineered to mimic the texture of rock. While it looks like rock, other than the fact its pale grey coloring if far too uniform, the grip is significantly better. Best of all, there are no annoying bits of gravel or dirt to cascade down the cliff and betray our presence.
I give the visual signal. Without a sound, the Serpents start their descent. I position myself within five meters of the nearest enemy cadet and watch to my left as Cera does the same. To my right, Tenoch anchors himself and gives a nod. I hail Olin. You sure this is the best way to deploy your abilities?
We’ve been through this. I’m not going to let them—
Okay, you’re right, we’ve been through this. You ready?
On your command.
Now.
I nod my head for Cera, Tenoch, and the others to follow. As one, we drop onto the enemy occupied ledges below. By the time my feet strike solid ground, the cadet I’ve targeted has focused on Olin’s sudden appearance.
Without hesitation I drive the heel of my palm into the cadet’s chin. I follow with a jab to his solar plexus that drives him into the cliff wall. Ducking his muddled response, I trade places with him on the narrow ledge. All it takes is a simple knee in the back to propel him off the face of the rock, where I suppose Olin will catch him.
In my peripheral vision I spot another enemy cadet taking flight. I chart a path toward my next target. Leaping across the face of the rock, I clutch a solid hold and swing myself into the face and chest of a butterfly cadet before she can muster an EM volley.
But the impact is less solid than I had anticipated, and my momentum sends me tumbling off the rock. At the last second, I clutch a jagged hold. The edge of the plasteel bites hard into my fingers. I’ll suffer much worse if I let go.
I hear a grunt from on top the ledge as the enemy cadet shuffles toward the edge to see if I’ve gone clean over. In the little time I have, I focus all the energy I can muster into my wounded hand.
The moment I see the top of the cadet’s head, I lunge upward and clutch her braid with my free hand.
Startled, she tries to pull away.
I’ve already wrapped her braid around my arm. With a solid tug, I yank her from the ledge. Below me, her scream is cut short, either by Olin’s stasis field if she’s lucky or another plasteel ledge if she isn’t.
At the moment, I haven’t time to worry about anyone other than myself. Which is exactly the kind of position I try to stay out of while in the chamber. Wincing, I lift my injured hand and find a hold further up.
After several seconds of dangling my feet over the open air and intermingling grunts with swears, I pull myself onto the rock. Report. I hail Olin before drawing a full breath.
A dozen angry Butterflies in the net. The rest are holding position. Awaiting your orders.
Good. Where’s their commander, what’s his name, Y’etl?
Directly beneath you, Olin snickers.
What?
You nearly kicked him in the face with your acrobatics. If it hadn’t been for Yetic, Y’etl would have yanked you off the rock.
I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.
Hey what’s not to like about juggling cadets?
Just watch that you’re not leaving yourself exposed.
Will do. Now get moving before our temporary ceasefire expires.
I’m already trying to locate a better means of dropping down to the next ledge. With a little scrambling, I manage the descent with much more grace than my last attempt. “Y’etl, may your next battle go better,” I choose a common greeting under the circumstances, one that allows for both power and compromise.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Y’etl shrugs, “this one hasn’t been so bad, thanks to your brother,” he points toward Olin with his chin.
I rewrap my braid around my neck. “He’s there to ensure none of my own fall as well.”
“Either way, you could have let mine drop. Honestly, my goal for this tournament is to avoid another death.”
His words jolt me. I can’t believe word of Zorrah has already spread to the other barracks. I sputter.
“Don’t sweat it. We’ve gotten used to it. The first one was hard, but after three or four, the cadets learn to expect it.”
“Oh,” I realize my mistake. “You’ve lost so many already?”
“Last week we lost two at once, numbers twelve and thirteen.”
“What?” I’m stunned. “Thirteen butterflies have died? But how?”
“Do you really have to ask?” He sighs deeply, painfully. “Think about it, Calli. Not everybody can be a Serpent. Not everybody can be one of the green ones.” Venom creeps into his voice with the mention of our barrack’s nickname. “You didn’t think all the talent was doled out evenly did you?”
“Well no, but I thought—”
“You though everyone had been given at least a fighting chance. I know,” he laughs. “That’s what I thought when my braid band first lit up red. But it couldn’t be further from the truth.”
I say, “Maybe you don’t have any one who can fly, but—”
Y’etl interrupts, “I bet you get seconds don’t you?”
“I beg your—”
“Extra rations for meals.” He watches me with keen, piercing eyes.
I think of the second protein shake I’d taken the day before.
He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Watch it, Y’etl,” Yetic fires a warning while hovering several meters away. “No quick movements.”
Y’etl ignores him. “I knew it. You guys get all the food you can eat, don’t you?”
“You don’t?” It’s all I can think to say.
Y’etl’s eyes flare and rove around in their sockets sporadically, one moving independent of the other for a brief second. “We’re fed barely enough to stay alive. Look at me.”
I keep my eyes locked on his face.
“Look at me!”
I glance along the length of his gaunt frame. At first I had taken him to be a naturally skinny kid of less than average height. On closer look, it’s obvious he’s malnourished. “I don’t understand.”
“Why waste resources on cadets who don’t have a chance to survive? We’re the rejects, the cannon fodder.”
“But you’ve got victories. I check the rankings everyday.”
He scoffs, “It figures that the winners would never suspect they’re getting outside assistance.”
“Wait,” I lean closer, “you know about the operator?”
“Oh, so you have noticed. Kudos,” Y’etl smirks.
What he’s saying makes sense, but it leaves me with another question. “Why do you still fight?”
He stares through me, as if he’s looking inside himself. “The only other choice is to die.”
A rattle catches in his throat as he pronounces the word, die.
Without warning, rage unhinges me. I clutch my fists and they burst into dark, green flames.
“Whoa!” Y’etl backs away.
I’m not focused on him. I see an ancient jungle. It’s crawling with green light and the quick thrusts of glowing limbs—legs and arms. Bodies spill from the trees. Twitchers.
Calli.
Olin’s voice shakes me from my waking dream. I stretch my trembling fingers until the flames extinguish.
“What was that?” Y’etl seems interested in our proceedings for the first time.
I roll my head, cracking the vertebra in my neck and buying time until I regain my composure. I exhale, “I have a proposal I hope will suit us both.”
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