Someone is coming. Someone the system thinks belongs to us. Someone who’s been processed and classified and scheduled for transfer like cargo, like a missing part finally located in a warehouse somewhere.
I don’t know their name. I don’t know anything about them.
But I already know I’d take a hit for them. I don’t know why. I don’t need to know why. The certainty is justthere, sitting in my chest like it’s been waiting for somewhere to land.
I stay on the bench until the lights finish coming on and the campus goes quiet and my hands stop wanting to form fists.
Then I go back inside.
The kitchen is clean. The food is put away. Five plates washed and stacked.
The sixth is still on the table.
Waiting.
Chapter 4
Nova
Linda comes in without a clipboard.
That’s the first thing I notice—her hands are empty except for a small card she’s turning over between her fingers. She looks tired, which is almost funny. She gets to go home every night. I’ve had three days of fluorescent lights and food I wouldn’t touch. Well, four now.
“They’re transferring you now,” she says.
No preamble. No soft lead-in. I’m starting to appreciate that about her.
“Okay.”
“Do you have any questions?”
I have a hundred questions. None of them are ones she can answer.
“Where am I going?”
“The Academy. I told you yesterday.”
“I meant specifically.”
“Cluster housing. You’ll be assigned to the group I mentioned.”
The five men. The incomplete set. The missing piece I’m apparently supposed to be.
“And if I don’t want to go?”
Linda’s expression doesn’t change. “Then you’ll be escorted instead of walked. The destination stays the same.”
At least she’s honest.
She sets the card on the table between us. Plain white, a name and a number printed in simple black text. No title. No department.
“If you’re stuck,” she says. “If something goes wrong. Call.”
I look at the card. Look at her.
“Why?”
“Because someone should be paying attention.” She stands. “And because I’d rather know than wonder.”
