It was ironic how much of the Academy they’d wasted going at each other’s throats, only to find a whole plain of common ground and shared core values sprawling underneath.
“I’ll watch for your name with graduation,” Zane said as he finished his drink, crushing the skinny can under his boot.
Lee wasn’t entirely sure what to take from that parting comment. What that said about him—about Zane. He was still mulling it over a couple hours later when the Hideaway began to fill up again. The showcase must be over. But he still hadn’t seen Kat.
He checked his hyperband for good measure, but there was nothing there from her. Glancing around him once more, Lee slipped down to the training levels.
He drew in a steady breath before entering the blaster range.
Kat stood alone at the zap-line of one of the farthest lanes. She had her blaster drawn, carefully aimed at one of the targets on the wall. She held it with perfect grip, her hands steady as she released a blast, annihilating the target at the other end with a glittering zap and ping.
She aimed another.
And another.
Decimating target after target as she continued to hold her form.
Padding over on soft feet, Lee sidled over to lean quietly against the waist-high barrier beyond her shoulder. He stood there watching her for another round of blasts. A zapping simmering of light and color.
She’d withheld the next shot, lifting her head just a fraction before he realized she was aware he was here.
“You ditched out on me today.”
Waiting until she’d lowered her blaster, Lee swung himself over the barrier. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he stopped himself a quarter meter away. “I know,” he said.
“Whistler and I cleaned up nicely, even without you. You know, Zane wasn’t there either?”
“Wasn’t he?” Lee asked carefully.
And Lee had no excuses ready for her when Kat whirled suddenly to face him. Her eyes were wild and blazing, her breaths sharp as she peered up at him.
“We’re still doing this, right? You’re taking this seriously? It’s not some big charade we’re stringing along with a floating dream at the end? Like if I fill my application out, if I submit it, yours will be there too?”
“I—Kat—”
And at first he read her face for anger. The blush flooding her cheeks, a frustration at him for showing signs of hesitation at the plan they’d always talked about. The dreams they’d devised together. But then he read the fear in her eyes. This wasn’t about him missing the showcase—not entirely. This was about her. This was about Kat’s future, and having somewhere safe to stand at the end of this.
She read something in his face, eyes skimming over him, before she nodded, swallowing back the emotion surging head-ward. “Our applications aren’t technically due for a few more weeks. We don’t have to make a decision today. Just promise me—if any of this changes, if our plan changes, you’ll let me know?”
And there was no hesitation as Lee strode towards her. As he gripped her cheek with his callused hand. “Of course I’ll let you know. Kat, you don’t get to live out our dream without me.” He stroked the soft skin with his thumb, tracing gingerly under her eye, collecting the phantom tears that had never poured. “That’s kind of the point, right? You and me, Intergalactic Explorers.”
He held her face in his hands, held her eyes with his eyes as the new realization, the new resolve settled over them.
They’d changed. Somewhere along this craze of a year, he and Kat had changed. He knew they’d have to make a decision on Placement before long. They couldn’t very well stare at their applications and make it become a future, just like he couldn’t make it give him the answers he so badly needed.
But the names, and the dream—the dream still fit.
CHAPTER 27: KAT
A FEW afternoons later Kat perched on Lee’s bed with her holoblock balanced on her knees, and her feet in his lap. Some of the Placement chatter had thankfully died down, giving her and Lee more time to process everything. She’d known things were changing, she wasn’t oblivious. Even if some days she wished she could just curl up and go back to oblivion. Back to when things were easier.
She hadn’t taken any further steps into submitting her application—not since her conversation with Lee. Instead, she’d funneled her nervous energies into an upcoming pre-raid crash course she’d volunteered to help host for their third years.
She wondered if anyone in the history of the Academy had ever taken this long to submit their applications, and if Commander Blanche had simply extended the deadlines as a courtesy to them.
“You still working on lesson plans?” Lee asked, glancing her way.
“Nah. Crash course. I figured I’d get ahead while we had some time. I want to make it interesting for my IRs, it’s such a critical year. And speaking of my IRs—what were we into during our third year? Was it just spaceships and raids?”
