I almost do the absolute dumbest thing and shake it. Then I realize she’s waiting for me to hand her my ray gun. I make a sound like a wheeze. “Please, Sergeant Forst…”
“I am stripping you of your weapon as part of the Legion’s red card protocol. You can have it back for missions, but red card violators are not permitted to carry firearms on Skyhub.”
“Maybe, because it’s my first—”
“It was not a request, Mr. Hartman.”
My fingers shake as I unclip the holster from my belt. I haven’t been parted from my ray gun since the second time I found it hidden—planted?—among my belongings at Master Ira’s School for Children. There was never any note to explain its appearance or reappearance, no sign of who may have left it, but that event has always felt like an inception of sorts, and this gun the catalyst. I wouldn’t be who I am today without it.
I press my thumb into the gun’s insignia hard enough to hurt, then hand it over.
09
I’m woken by avibration.
At first, I don’t know where it’s coming from, and I panic because my mind instantly jumps to memories of desert planets and sand cephalopods and a giant mouth to swallow me whole. After a half second of flailing around my bed, I realize it’s not a monster causing the vibration, but my handheld, which is tangled in the sheets.
I grope around for the device and squint at the screen.
It’s a message from Lament.
I’m awake all at once, gripping the display without clicking into the message. I haven’t seen Lament since Sergeant Forst ordered him out of her office this morning. And byhaven’t seen, I meanhave been actively avoiding. After that disaster of a meeting, I marched straight back to my room to prevent running into him, using Illiviamona’s post-op sleep instructions as an excuse to hide away. I know it’s cowardly, but I’m not ready to face Lament yet. Everything feels too big. Significant. And while I’m worried he’s angry at me for lying to Sergeant Forst when we’d previously agreed to lie, you know, differently, I’m more worried he’snotangry. That he’ll have decided he doesn’t care whether I stick my neck out for him, whether I want to help him.
I can handle Lament’s anger, but I don’t think I could take his apathy.
After a round of deep breathing and a bit of mental cheerleading, I open the message.
You shouldn’t have done that.
I exhale, feeling suddenly light and loose, like my bones have become too small for their sockets. My fingers fly over the screen.Your red card was lonely.
That’s not funny.
It needed a friend.
I’m being serious. No one’s ever gotten a red card on their first day.
What can I say? I like to break records.
I can see you’re being very mature about this.
It must be the relief, or the fact that I’ve just woken up at a random afternoon hour following my half-hearted attempt to sleepfour hours on, three hours off, because I’m grinning at the screen. The red card sucks, obviously. Word of it will surely get back to my Academy officers, and if the story winds up on NewsNet (a real possibility), Master Ira will see it, too. Normally, the prospect of his disappointment would be like an iron clamp around my heart, but right now it barely registers. I’ve come to terms with my choices. I’d make them again.
Apparently I haven’t replied quickly enough, because a fresh string of messages lights up my screen.I thought we’d agreed.
You weren’t even supposed to speak during that meeting.
Let alone take the blame.
It’s like you don’t care what happens to you.
Which is infuriating.
I’ve already established my place in the Legion.
But you haven’t.
So you can’t be this reckless.
