A shout brings our attention back to the fight. Taylor’s contender is frustrated and swearing, unable to land his meaty fists on his agile superior. He backs away, edging toward the circle. His footfalls get quieter and quieter behind her, until it’s clear Taylor can no longer hear him. The man barrels toward her, arms tight around his chest as he prepares to bowl her down. Cringing in anticipation, I watch through narrow slits. Taylor spins and crouches down, catching the man by his hips and hefting him onto her shoulder. With strength and hismomentum, she stands up straight and flips him over her back. With a mighty yell he goes sprawling onto the dirt, smacking his chin against the hard ground.
Taylor kicks him onto his back, looming over him and cocking her head to the side. Yanking off her blindfold, she chucks it on the ground. “Yield?”
He doesn’t look her in the eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
Taylor is displeased with this response, but backs up and helps him to his feet. “Anticipation can save your life. Keep aware of your surroundings, and you will always have an advantage. Remember the four A’s: anticipation, awareness, agility, and accuracy. If you have all four you can take down any foe, no matter their size.”
The man she bested from the circle scrambles after her once her back is turned. I take a half step in an ill-advised warning, but Private Frank snatches my wrist and shakes her head. Taylor breaks into a run and leaps up to grab a nearby tree branch, catching his head between her thighs. She wrenches him around with her hips and they both go crashing to the ground. He lands flat on his stomach, arm tucked beneath his barrel chest, mouth full of grass and twigs. Taylor braces her weight on her knees and gets up, wiping dirt off her pants.
“Pair off and do more drills. I want to see good footwork.” She casts a disparaging glance down at the man. “Private Harrison, report to PFC Lopez. Tell him I want you to do ten laps, then report to the infirmary for your arm.”
“But I think I broke it,” he protests and climbs to his feet, cradling his arm with a pitiful expression.
Taylor’s eyes squint and take on a darkened quality. “The moment you yield, the exercise is over. You broke the rules, Private, and that is embarrassing, as well as cause for disciplinary action. Do you really need to see the medic?”
“Yeah.”
Taylor’s face goes blank. “Excuse me?”
He ducks his head. “I mean, yes, Captain.”
“Then I suggest you run those laps as fast as you can.”
Private Harrison takes off, still holding his left arm. Standing beside Taylor, I try not to stare too hard at the flush spread across her cheeks and the top of her chest. “That’s harsh, Captain.”
“He lied on his yield and his arm is not broken. Sprained, at best. I know Private Harrison. He’s embarrassed because he lost to a woman. I have neither the time nor the patience to assuage his fragile ego. War knows no gender.”
“‘The enemy is anyone who is going to get you killed, no matter which side he’s on.’”
“What’s that from?”
“Catch-22. Not a lot of copies of it survive.” Except mine, with its worn, cerulean blue cover, soft and malleable beneath my fingertips. Tattered pages with other people’s notes scribbled between the text. I miss my books. “It’s about World War Two. You’d probably like it.”
Taylor hums in thought. “I do not want any soldier here to think they are invincible. Or, for that matter, any soldier to think they are weak because of their size.” She nods to where two of the soldiers are sparring, one of whom being the blond fan of Taylor’s. “Training is rarely about fighting. It is observation, survival, seeing the world through your talents and knowing what you are capable of. They can do what I did without my fifteen years of training.”
“Fifteen years,” I repeat in shock. “How’s that possible? You don’t even look eighteen.”
“I’m nineteen,” she says stiffly. “This has been my life since I was born. Most recruits arrive as teenagers or adults. I am an exception.”
“Jesus. Well, it looks like they may need those fifteen years of training if they come across someone like you. Not one of them laid a hand on you. You’re not just an exception. You are exceptional.”
She ducks her gaze. “No, I am not. I have simply had more practice. You watched what those guards on your roof did to me.”
Sure, before she promptly killed them. I nudge her in the shoulder. “You mean there’s a chance I’ll see you get your ass kicked again?”
Taylor rolls her eyes and departs my company to weave in and out of the pairs of recruits and dispense advice, which is taken with rapt attention. Their ages range from slightly younger than her to significantly older, but it doesn’t appear to matter, as everyone is equally entranced by her presence. It’s like when Papa would inspect the grounds of a factory or entertain Force members. People would exalt him, stopping shy of genuflecting in his presence.
Nobody told me to do anything, so I lean against a nearby tree trunk and pick at the pills in my sweater. Private Frank jogs to me, and I look into her familiar, bubbly face. “Hey, Private Frank.”
“Hey. I didn’t catch your name before.”
Theia did say they weren’t going to hide me. “Lucy. Piccolo.”
“Okay. Well, we were wondering if you wanted to spar with us. Me and Private Bernard.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply, casting a glance at Taylor, who approaches warily from the side. “I’m not very good. I’ll slow you down.”
“What? No. I mean, I’m good, but he’s terrible. Besides, if you’ve been training with Eos, you must be pretty decent, right?” The young soldier straightens up when Taylor arrives beside us. “Would it be okay, Captain, if we trained with Private Piccolo?”
