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Chapter 23

The Podkind’s specialized training began the next day and Charleston was exhausted. He’d made it back from the Underground before curfew, it was true, but he, Savannah, and New York had stayed up late discussing all that he’d been told. His friends were equal parts excited and skeptical.

“So the Planners and Council experimented on babies until they perfected the Cure,” New York said after he finally quit repeating, ‘I can’t believe it!’ They were sitting in Savannah’s cabin, the most spacious of any on the ship, at a large round table next to a window looking out on the hangar. “And Violet and this Green kid were born to work the mines and are stuck as eleven-year-olds forever?” He still couldn’t say the words without it coming out as a question.

“That’s what Green said,” Charleston confirmed.

New York whistled. “No wonder they don’t want anyone knowing they exist.”

“That’s assuming Green and Violet are telling the truth,” Savannah interjected.

“It’s hard to believe, I know,” Charleston agreed. “But you remember what Violet was like, right? Green was even more older seeming.”

Savannah nodded. “Either way, now we know what your friend’s ulterior motive was in seeking us out, Char,” she said.

“To get on our ships?” New York asked.

“Yeah,” Savannah answered. “Unfortunately, it makes sense others would want to leave with us. Or take our ships for themselves. No matter what the Planners and Council actually intend to do, there’ll be people who don’t want to wait for us to find a new planet before leaving this one.”

“Do you think the Planners and Council really plan on leaving everyone behind and coming with us?” Charleston asked.

Savannah made an indiscernible sound and shook her head. “It’s possible.”

Charleston’s stomach sank. He’d been hoping she’d argue against it, come up with some reason he hadn’t been able to as to why Green was wrong. “But that means we’ve been lied to our entire lives! And we’re being used to abandon thousands of people who think we’re going to save them! It’s horrible!”

Savannah nodded, her long black hair, which she had in a ponytail, bobbing with the motion. “It is horrible,” she agreed, “if it’s true. But we don’t know if it is or not.”

“We need to find out,” Charleston stated firmly.

“How?”

Charleston opened his mouth to answer, then stopped.

“Exactly,” Savannah said. “When did Green say this Jedidiah was planning to attack?”

“He didn’t. All he said was his end game was approaching.”

“Hmm,” Savannah replied. “And he didn’t say anything more than he and the others want on our ships?”

Charleston nodded.

“That’s good.”

“What do you mean?” New York spoke up.

“The Council and Planners aren’t going to make their intentions known until we leave for our mission,” Savannah answered. “In the meantime, we let them worry about Jedidiah or whoever is attacking the war patrols.”

Charleston gave her a blank stare.

“If they want to leave with us,” she explained, “they’ll protect us and our ships to save themselves. If they don’t, then they’ll protect us and our ships for the sake of our mission.”

“We let one potential threat shield us from other potential threats,” New York had approved with a finality that meant there was nothing more to say.

And now Charleston was preparing for Ranger class, trying his best to let the excitement he felt over the beginning of their training stifle the paranoia and depression he felt over what Green had told them. Regardless of how cavalier New York and Savannah had received the news of the Council’s corruption, Charleston couldn’t shake the despondency he felt over it. New Washington didn’t feel much like home anymore.

But, as Savannah had said the previous evening, just because the powers in charge of New Washington were possibly evil, those people around them probably weren’t. They’d surely been lied to the same as the Podkind. At least, it was an explanation Charleston clung to, for if he thought Thurmond and Duman or Liz and Stanton had been manipulating him his whole life, he…

He shook his head, not wanting to articulate the rest of that thought. Instead, he focused on what lay immediately ahead of him, willing his doubts and fears away.

He left Red Ship and hurried through the dome and out onto Space Branch. Their classes would largely be held in Space Dome, the gigantic central dome that was far larger and more intricate than Podkind Dome.

As he entered Space Dome, all thoughts of Green and what he’d said left him as he took in all the new sights and sounds. It was full of buildings and people and an energy that was almost palpable.

Charleston reached a large crossroads at the center of which was an open square with a statue of a ship with a sliver of a moon and dots of stars behind it. Shops and cafes encircled the square, which had six roads radiating out in different directions. Strange adults were everywhere. Some were bustling across the square on business of their own; others were sitting at tables and drinking something from small cups; still more were milling in shops. He stopped in front of the statue and looked around for any signs to indicate where Combat Dome was located, but saw nothing.

“You’re one of the Podkind, aren’t you?” a nearby voice made him jump.

Charleston turned to find a tall, thin man with brown hair flaked with silver standing behind him. He wore a dirty white apron. He was smiling awkwardly and wringing his hands as if drying them with a towel.

“Of course you are,” he answered before Charleston could speak, then laughed a short, dry laugh. “Who else would you be? There aren’t any other children in New Washington, after all.” Again, the man laughed. “They told us not to talk to you. Well, not to make a big deal about you or anything,” he added hurriedly. “But how could we not?” Here the man rocked up on his tiptoes and then back on his heels, clasping his hands to his chest. “You’re our saviors! And so young. So young to have so much responsibility.”

The man took a step closer to Charleston, who instinctively shifted his feet into a fighting stance. He didn’t have a lot of experience with strange adults, but this one was giving him the creeps.

“We’re so fortunate to have you, you know,” he said, “so fortunate.” The man smiled and stared at Charleston, his eyes glistening as if he were about to cry.

Charleston didn’t know what to say or do. “Uh, I have to go to class now,” he managed after a moment.

“Oh, of course, of course,” the man said, not moving. He stared at Charleston with wet eyes. “I shouldn’t keep you from your studies, but I couldn’t help myself when I saw you here all alone. A bunch of the other Podkind passed by earlier, but they were in groups, so I was too nervous to approach them. You’re famous, you know!” he half whispered. “Oh, my friends would love to meet you,” he continued. “I work just over there,” he pointed to one of the cafes. “If you ever want to stop by, I’d love to just sit and talk. It’s so fascinating what you’re doing!”

Charleston took a step back and glanced around. He saw two podlings from Yellow Ship crossing the square to his right.

“I really have to go now,” Charleston muttered, then rushed to catch up with the two kids.

“Anytime you want to stop by!” the man called after. “Anytime at all!”

“Hey, wait up!” he called out to the two yellowings. They stopped and looked back at him. It was Skopje and Gala, with whom he was on friendly enough terms, though he wouldn’t say they were friends. They’d had a few conversations over the years and knew each other well enough to say hello, but not much more. Now, though, Charleston looked at them like they were his best friends. “Where are you going?”

“Combat Dome,” Gala replied with a smile. She had dark brown, almost black hair, and a round, friendly face. She was shorter than Charleston, though not by much. “You?”

“Same,” Charleston replied with a relieved smile. “Do you know where it is?”

“Down this way,” Skopje replied. He had light yellow hair and wide blue eyes. His face was sprinkled with freckles and his lips were thick and red. “Ranger class?”

“Yeah,” Charleston replied, stealing a quick glance back towards the square. The tall man was still standing by the statue, watching Charleston go. He waved when he saw the boy turn around.

“Who’s that?” Gala asked.

“I have no idea,” Charleston replied with an uncomfortable laugh.

The three quickly made their way to Combat Dome, sharing their impressions of Space Dome and their ships along the way. Both Skopje and Gala had cabins similar to Charleston’s, and they excitedly talked about the small ship and what it could be for as they went.

Charleston soon forgot his encounter with the tall man. He hadn’t spoken much with Skopje or Gala before, but he found himself at ease in their company. Gala in particular laughed readily and sincerely, and by the time they entered Combat Dome, Charleston felt like they’d been friends for a long time.

A crowd of podlings was milling about the Staging room, the sound of a half dozen conversations loud in the small space. Charleston followed Skopje and Gala in and joined Damascus and Koba from Green Pod, who were talking with a boy Charleston recognized but couldn’t immediately place.

“It’s got to be Combat class,” Damascus was saying as the three walked up. “Why else would we be in Combat Dome?”

“Yeah,” the boy whose name Charleston had forgotten said. “I wonder what kind of new weapons we’re going to learn?”

“Hopefully something a little more powerful than a bo staff,” Damascus replied. “Ulvik,” he continued after a pause, “you haven’t told us about your test yet. Who were you?”

Before the boy Charleston now remembered as Ulvik could reply, the doors leading to the Combat floor opened and everyone fell silent. A moment later, Charleston heard a familiar voice from inside call out to them.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Professor Thurmond said. “Come in, come in!”

The crowd of students pushed through the doors. Thurmond and two unfamiliar professors waited for them on the Combat floor.

“Welcome to Ranger class!” Professor Thurmond said as he surveyed the group of excited students. “You and your shipmates are being sent to explore distant galaxies in search of habitable planets.” He paused a moment. “You will be the first to land on those planets, the first to travel them, the first to face whatever dangers they may be home to. You are the vanguard of the vanguard.”

He paused again to let the whispers and exclamations die down. “Yours will be a reconnaissance mission,” he continued, “designed to gather as much information about the foreign planet as possible. You will make first contact with whomever and whatever is already there if necessary. You will be ground zero for the rest of your shipmates and possibly for all of New Washington.”

More excited whispers rippled through the crowd.

“As you explore our potential new home,” he continued after the murmuring began to die down, “you will study and record its landscape, weather, flora, and fauna. You will collect samples of the soil, of any minerals you may find, and of the water there. The goal, of course, will be to establish if this new planet is capable of supporting us as a species. To do this, you’ll be trained in a variety of skills and fields of knowledge.”

Charleston’s excitement was growing. He’d always been fascinated with Earth as a planet, with its actual physical makeup, more so than with human history or culture. However, he didn’t know why they’d chosen the best fighters to explore and collect samples from a potential second earth. Wouldn’t one of his more scientifically gifted shipmates be the better choice?

“I can see by the look on many of your faces that this is not quite what you were expecting,” Professor Thurmond said with a laugh.

Many of the children nodded their agreement, Damascus and Ulvik among them.

“Never fear,” Professor Thurmond continued, “we didn’t choose you because you demonstrated the greatest aptitude for gathering dirt. We chose you because you have demonstrated a high degree of resourcefulness and the ability to think quickly, improvise, and survive. The kind of planet we’re looking for may very well have advanced life on it. We need to know if we can peacefully cohabitate with them. We will decide this largely based on your observations. You’ll learn their ways, customs, society, and government, all without drawing attention to yourselves in the process. You’ll have to move among them, live among them, and study them.

“And this leads me to perhaps your most important task, one that cannot be overstated. Your top priority will be to blend in with whatever intelligent life forms exist on the planet. You must not draw attention to yourself as an alien, for that is what you will be to whomever you find. The success of your mission depends on your ability to move in and around the people, for lack of a better word, who already inhabit this planet unnoticed and unremarked. Your goal is to gather information, not alert the locals to your presence.”

Professor Thurmond paused to allow the excited chatter to die down again.

“However, we hope there’ll be no intelligent life on the first potential planet you land on. Our transition to a new home will be much easier if there is not already a civilization there to contend with.” Thurmond exchanged a quick look with the two professors flanking him before continuing. “Our astrologists have carefully selected possible planets and the odds, they assure me, are that they will not be inhabited by anything resembling intelligent life.

“With this in mind, you must be prepared to survive in an untamed wilderness, while you go about your mission of gathering the necessary information about its makeup as possible. You will have to survive off whatever you can find. Therefore, you will learn to live off the land with little to no technology to aid you. You will learn to navigate and survive in a variety of harsh terrains and environments. You will learn to hunt and gather, like our distant ancestors. All this will prepare you for whatever you may find.

“Now let me introduce you to your other professors,” Thurmond continued turning to his left. “This is Professor Medina,” he indicated a tall, dark-skinned woman with jet-black hair pulled back into a loose clump at the back of her head. She was striking looking, her skin as dark as the night sky, while her eyes were a light green. She was tall, too, only slightly shorter than Tank and she looked as imposing as the big man. “She will train you in stealth, subterfuge, tracking, hunting, and all kinds of other useful skills to help you move unseen among others and survive alone in the wilderness.”

He turned to his right. “This is Professor Kim,” he gestured towards a short, thin man with olive skin and equally dark hair as Professor Medina. He was slight of build, but even standing at ease, Charleston could sense a deadly confidence about the man. “He will teach you about psychology and how to observe others, both as individuals and as larger groups, to help you blend in and understand a foreign people and culture.

“Professor Manfred, who is currently leading Engineer class, will teach you about geology, geography, biology, and how to gather quality samples for scientific study. Meanwhile, I will continue your combat training, with the help of both Professor Medina and Kim,” Thurmond concluded with a smile. “You’ll specialize in the sword and bow and one other weapon of your choice.” He paused for a moment. “Are there any questions?”

The Podkind were silent, each processing the description of their training and, if they were like Charleston, trying to decide which question of the million that came to mind they would ask first.

“What kinds of weapons can we chose from?” Ulvik asked.

Professor Thurmond smiled, as if he’d been expecting this question. “Oh, all kinds. Daggers, dirks, knives, maces, chains, staves, whips, spears…” He trailed off. “There are so many to choose from,” he continued with a gleam in his eye.

“What about guns? Or lasers? Or war suits?” Ulvik asked excitedly.

“Hmm,” Thurmond replied, pretending to think. “I don’t think there’s any need for you to learn those weapons.”

This statement was met with groans and outbursts by a good portion of the group.

“What? Why not?!” someone asked from the far side of the crowd.

“Yeah,” a familiar voice sounded.

Charleston peered around Damascus and Ulvik to see Jambon standing with Naima. He groaned to himself.

“Why do we have to learn these old weapons when we have war suits?” the orangling continued, his voice full of disdain. “Sir,” he added in the face of Thurmond’s hard stare.

“Perhaps you can use the information I just gave you to answer your own question,” Thurmond said quietly, eyes boring holes in Jambon.

“Uh,” Jambon squirmed.

“Maybe one of your classmates can,” Thurmond continued after a moment, finally taking his gaze off Jambon and looking around. “Why will you not be using war suits as part of your mission?”

“Our primary purpose is to learn as much about the planet and whoever lives there as possible, not start a war,” Gala spoke up.

Jambon shot her a dark look from underneath his brow that only darkened when he saw Charleston standing next to her.

“Very good, Gala,” Thurmond said.

“And if we’re supposed to blend in with the people we find there, we probably don’t want to be walking around in ten-foot-tall suits of armor,” Charleston added. He could feel Jambon’s glaring eyes on him now.

“How do we know?” Arkhangelsk asked from where she stood opposite.

Of course, she would come to Jambon’s aid, Charleston thought, glancing at her before looking away. Ever since the interpodal melee, she’d been friendlier with the kids in Orange Pod than with many from her own.

“The Planners said it themselves,” she continued. “We have no idea what or who we’ll encounter out there in space. What if we find a planet full of ten-foot-tall metal creatures?”

Thurmond smiled at her. “Now that’s a good point,” he said. “We really don’t know what you’ll find out there. It could be a planet of gorilla lizards that shoot fire from their eyes and ice from their mouths.”

The rangers all giggled, except for Jambon, who was doing his best to glower at Thurmond without being noticed.

“But why wouldn’t we want to go to a planet where the people all walked around in war suits?” he asked.

Charleston pondered the question, wishing Savannah were there to help.

“Our planet’s dead,” Gala said. “If advancements in technology, particularly military technology, were largely to blame for the mass extinction, we probably don’t want to find a planet with the same level of technology.”

Thurmond’s smile widened. “Precisely, Gala! We need a new home, one uncorrupted and unpolluted by its inhabitants. It’s certainly possible for a very advanced civilization like our own not to destroy its planet or to have discovered technologies to heal it, but why take that chance? Space is huge and our time is limited. Our best bet is to send you to planets that have no obvious signs of advanced technology and hope you find one that is compatible with life as we know it.”

“What does this have to do with weapons?” Arkhangelsk asked. “And how do we know which planets are technologically advanced and which are not?”

“More good questions,” Professor Thurmond replied. “I’ll answer the second one first, as it’s the easier of the two. Well,” he paused and chuckled again, “maybe not, but easier for me to answer. Our scientists have figured all that out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that,” he said. “I don’t know how, but they’ve figured out a way not only to search the universe for habitable planets but also to tell if they have advanced technology. Something to do with satellites or something. It’s not important how. What’s important is they’ve figured out a way to tell if a planet is potentially habitable and if the life on that planet has advanced to a point where they could possibly have already damaged their home beyond repair.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “Now, to your first question. If you look at the history of our planet and the average temperature over that span, you’ll find it was largely the same for thousands and thousands of years. It was only at the end of the nineteenth century that the temperature began rising quickly and permanently. This increase coincided with the discovery of fossil fuels and the many technological advancements that came with it. It was over the course of two to three hundred years that the irreversible damage to our planet was done. That leaves thousands and thousands of years of humanity in which the planet was healthy and habitable. During those thousands of years, weapons never advanced past sharp objects, basically.

“It is that kind of planet, one that has not discovered fossil fuels and the various new weapons this eventually leads to, that you will are searching for. Once you’ve found one, it’s essential you blend in, as I’ve said, but also that you protect yourself and stay alive. This could be staying safe from the animals you encounter there, or from whatever intelligent life form may occupy it.

“Which means you need weapons, but you can’t walk around with laser rifles. You must be proficient in the kinds of weapons likely to be found on such a planet. You’ve already been trained in hand-to-hand combat and the bo staff, which will allow you to live among very uncivilized people. Now you’ll learn a variety of weapons from old Earth’s medieval period in order to navigate more advanced civilizations.”

“What if we get to our target planet and we find they’re actually more advanced than our own?” a large girl asked from behind Jambon and Naima. “Or what if they have more advanced weapons, though their other technologies haven’t progressed as far as our own?”

“Good questions, Nicosia” Tank replied. “While you’re being trained in all kinds of older weapons,” Professor Thurmond continued, “we have a few new ones to teach you that will help you in such a situation, or in any potentially deadly situation.”

“Like what?” Ulvik asked eagerly.

Professor Thurmond laughed. “You’ll have to wait and see. We wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, now would we?”

“Yes, we would,” came a chorus of voices.

Professor Thurmond ignored them. “Now, I think I’ve talked long enough,” he said turning to his colleagues, who looked bored. “Would you like to see what they can do?”

“Yes, let’s,” Professor Medina said, her voice soft and slightly accented.

“I want to see how they assimilate in a foreign environment first,” Professor Kim said.

Professor Medina nodded her agreement, her green eyes sharp and penetrating as she surveyed the crowd.

Professor Thurmond brought his wrist computer up and began tapping at it. “Any preferences on location?” he asked as small panels in the Combat floor split open in more than a dozen places to allow metal stands with helmets to rise out of it.

The podlings all eagerly watched and listened, trying to deduce what it all meant.

“Let’s do the bazaar,” Medina said.

Professor Kim shrugged his agreement.

“Rangers!” Professor Thurmond shouted. “Find a station and wait for my instructions!”

Charleston, Gala, and Skopje hurried with the others onto the Combat floor and found spots in a small cluster near one another.

“With these helmets we can simulate a countless number of environments for you each individually,” Thurmond explained once everyone had found a place. The helmets were on long cords connecting them to the metal poles on which they rested. “This experience will not be like the Test, where you embodied another’s mind, nor will it be like the changing environment of the Combat floor, where you all participated in the same space, though it has elements of each. You will be in your own simulated reality and you will be yourselves, with all your knowledge and skills, though your appearance will match the people you encounter to allow you to blend in, at least on the surface.”

“Will we be able to do that in real life?” someone asked.

“Yes and no,” Professor Thurmond replied. “But don’t worry about that right now. Your task is simple. Learn as much about the people and their society as you can without giving yourself away. Should you do something to alert anyone to your presence and your true identity, the simulation will start over from the beginning. Put your helmets on and begin!” he shouted, not allowing anyone to ask any more questions.

Charleston and Gala exchanged an excited look and he smiled at her.

She smiled back. “See you on the other side!”

 

Chapter 24

Charleston slid the helmet on and immediately entered a strange world. Professor Thurmond had been right that it was and it wasn’t like their Test. There was no second consciousness vying for control, yet he felt completely immersed in the new environment.

The first thing he noticed was the heat. After the controlled temperature of the Combat floor, it felt like he’d stepped into an oven. He broke out into a heavy sweat and took a deep breath of the dry, hot air.

“Out of the way!” a strange voice shouted. A second later, he felt a viciously sharp blow on his back.

Charleston stumbled forward and spun around to find a large fat man in a bright vest and no shirt raising a whip to deliver a second blow. Charleston reacted without thinking.

He leapt towards the man. With one hand, he grabbed the man’s wrist. With the other, he struck him in the throat. The fat man stumbled backwards, clutching helplessly at his crushed windpipe.

Charleston heard gasps from either side and only then took in his larger surroundings. He was standing on a dusty roadway running straight through a market. There were colorful tents on either side of the road with men and women in long, flowing white robes standing in front of them. The place was full of people, many of whom were currently kneeling.

“Seize him!” came a shout from behind the fat man.

Four armored men with curved swords rushed at Charleston from around what looked to be a carriage, though there were no wheels or horses. Instead, it was being carried by four shirtless, sweaty men, all staring steadfastly at the ground before them. Charleston looked to his left and right, desperately searching for a weapon of some sort.

Everything went black.

He was back on the Combat floor. He had failed.

Charleston waited for the simulation to start over, but his helmet remained dark and lifeless. After a moment, he pulled it off and looked around. Several of his classmates were standing shamefacedly with their helmets in their arms, while others were still in the simulation. Gala was walking in a circle around the metal stand, occasionally gesturing or coming to a halt.

“Damn it!” Skopje said from beside him.

Charleston looked over.

“That fat man whipped me until I moved, but I still failed,” the freckled boy grumbled.

Charleston smiled. “Yeah, I for attacking him,” he said in commiseration.

More and more kids were removing their helmets now and similar conversations sprung up across the Combat floor. Charleston looked around. Gala was still in it, though from the looks of it, she was fighting someone. In a far corner, Arkhangelsk had her helmet on, as well.

A moment later, Professor Thurmond spoke. “Remember, class, your primary goal is to blend in,” he said, heavily emphasizing the words, “not kill the first person who crosses your path.”

Charleston blushed.

“Try again.”

This time Charleston was ready. He was standing in the middle of a large road made of stone, with open tents stretching out before and behind him. In one direction, the road twisted and turned its way up a sloping hill towards a giant wall that loomed over the market like a stern parent over an unruly child. In the opposite direction it descended into a sprawling mass of buildings and people. It was from this direction the fat man with his whip was leading the human carriage.

“Out of the way!” the man shouted at Charleston, who quickly stepped to the side of the road, squeezing between two shirtless men kneeling in the dust in front of one of the tents. As he did so, he noticed he, too, was shirtless, his now dark skin sweaty and dirty. He quickly dropped to his knees, head down, eyes alert.

The fat man and the carriage passed, followed by the armed guards. Charleston waited until those around him stood before joining them. The market was full of people. There were merchants standing on the edge of the road calling to passersby or obsequiously showing off their wares to potential customers within the shade of their tents. There were people bustling about in long white robes with white wraps around their heads, either out making purchases or on their way somewhere else in the city. And there were shirtless men like Charleston.

Several from this latter group were following the people in the robes, while others hurried on alone. Besides the obvious distinction between the different classes of people, Charleston noticed the way the shirtless men avoided meeting the gaze of the robed people, while their eyes ceaselessly darted from left to right in an endless quest to stay out of the way.

Charleston gathered he and those like him were of the lowest class, possibly slaves. If he were going to blend in, he would have to act like the others and do his best to be invisible. He turned up the road and began weaving in and out of the crowd towards the stone wall in the direction of the palanquin. It clearly carried someone important and so was as good a place as any to begin his reconnaissance.

At first, he found it hard to navigate through the teeming masses, as he had to keep his head down but also avoid all contact with any of the robed people. He was constantly forced to duck left or right and stop to let others pass. After a few minutes of this and several close calls where he nearly bumped into people who suddenly veered in front of him to look at a merchant’s wares, or who spun to greet an acquaintance, or who, like one tall man, abruptly stopped in front of him for no reason Charleston could discern, he finally got the hang of it.

He neared the gate leading through the wall. The crowd thickened and slowed almost to a crawl as people spilled out of side streets and joined the central road. Charleston could just make out the enclosed litter, the fat man’s shouts to make way floating back to him from time to time. It was now impossible not to bump into anyone in the press of people, but he kept his eyes down and tried his best to stay close to several of the other shirtless men making their way through the gate and deeper into the city.

Charleston wasn’t sure if he was succeeding in his task of blending in and observing this foreign society, but so far the simulation hadn’t ended, so he figured he was doing a satisfactory job of the former. He was less confident of the latter.

Other than the different layers of society, a slave class, a merchant class, and an upper class, with perhaps a small elite occupying the very top, he hadn’t seen much, nor was he sure how to learn more. Well, there was also a military class of some kind, he realized as he finally made his way through the gate, which had armored guards with long spears posted on either side of it. And there had been guards with curved swords following the important person in the litter, which meant there could also be a mercenary class.

The market ended at the wall. The gate opened into an inner city full of dusty white buildings lining the dusty stone road. Side streets and allies shot off in all directions and the crowd began to thin as more and more people turned off the main thoroughfare.

Charleston continued to note his surroundings as he hurried to keep the important person in sight up ahead. The street was lined with two- and three-story buildings, many of which had signs hanging near their entrances indicating their purpose. A needle and thread running through a tunic told Charleston the store sold clothes or made repairs. Two swords crossed over a shield was a weapons or armor shop. A bunch of grapes in front of a bottle flanked by two glasses was some kind of café or restaurant.

Down the side streets from the main road, some so small two people would have to turn sideways to pass one another, less elaborate signs jutted out to catch the wandering traveler’s eye – a mug, a plate, a pipe. Charleston took all this in, doing his best to remember the signs he didn’t understand. One such sign was a flaming torch. It hung above a windowless building down one of the smaller side streets Charleston had ducked into to catch his breath. The city was so dusty his mouth and throat ached from dryness.

He wiped sweat and grime from his face and stared at the flaming torch on the sign, trying to guess what it could mean. Suddenly, the door below it burst open and a disheveled looking woman clutching a torn shirt to her chest stumbled out and fell hard on the walkway. From behind her, a man loomed in the doorway, his features dark. A light from behind him revealed a few old wooden tables and chairs and several more men and women laughing and talking. The man stepped into the ally after the fallen woman. He was wearing a breastplate and had one of those curved swords at one side, a whip at the other. The woman had risen to her hands and knees. She was sobbing.

“Stupid whore!” the man said in disgust and kicked her in the stomach. The force of the blow lifted the woman in the air and slammed her into the wall of the opposite building. She slid to the ground and hugged her stomach in pain, her mouth open in a desperate attempt to breathe. She’d dropped her torn shirt as she fell, and Charleston was shocked to see she was naked from the waist up, her two large breasts a lighter shade of brown than the rest of her body.

Two more armored soldiers joined the first. These watched and laughed as the first one kicked the woman in the face. She slumped heavily to the ground, her shattered nose and broken mouth gushing blood across her naked chest.

Charleston felt a surge of anger. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing while these creeps beat a helpless woman for sport.

He rushed forward and crashed unnoticed into the first man’s side, sending him sprawling. Before the other two could draw their weapons, he kicked one of them in the groin, then launched himself at the third. Just as his fist slammed into the man’s jaw, everything went black.

He had failed. Again.

A moment later, he was back in the market and had to jump to the side of the road and kneel before the fat man’s whip caught him. He was furious, not so much at his failure, but at the simulation itself. Was he really supposed to let some innocent, defenseless woman get killed in front of him? He fumed as the carriage passed, then quickly made his way along the crowded street and through the inner gates.

He tried two more times to save the woman.

The first time, he shouted at the armored men once they appeared in the ally, thinking he could distract them long enough to let the woman escape. Instead, he found himself facing three drawn swords.

The simulation restarted.

The second time, he was determined to move faster through the streets in order to reach the ally before the woman was thrown into it. He succeeded and rushed through the door from which the woman would eventually be thrown. He found himself in a low-ceilinged, dimly lit room full of soldiers and scantily clad women. Opposite the entrance was a dingy bar with a small, squeamish looking man behind it. All eyes turned to him.

“What are you doing here, rat?” one of the soldiers closest to the door growled, his tone menacing.

Just then a far door to the side of the bar burst open and the same woman was kicked through it. She stumbled and fell to her knees, her breasts spilling out of her torn tunic. Charleston leapt forward and grabbed her under the arm.

“Let’s go!” he hissed. “Now!”

“What’s that rat scum doing in here?” a voice behind Charleston asked in a mixture of shock and disgust.

“Doesn’t know his place, that one,” another voice responded.

“Maybe that’s his mum,” a third voice suggested, followed by a nasty laugh.

Charleston had the woman on her feet now, but before he could start towards the door, everything went black again. He waited for the simulation to restart, to find himself once again on the hot, dusty road leading through the market, but his helmet remained black.

“Helmets off!” Professor Thurmond called out.

Charleston pulled his helmet off. It was wet with sweat. He felt as if he’d just finished an hour-long bo staff session. He looked around at his classmates, who were just as sweaty.

“That was a work out,” Gala said as she pushed a string of wet hair out of her eyes.

“Attention!” Thurmond yelled before Charleston could reply. “What do you think?” he asked, turning to his colleagues.

Professor Medina shrugged. “There were some good things…and some bad things.” She glanced at Professor Kim, who looked grim.

“I’m not sure half of you even understood what you were supposed to do,” the slight man said, addressing them directly for the first time. He had a quiet voice that currently sounded as if he were unpleasantly amused at their performance. It reminded Charleston of Slive. “Your task is to move through the city unobserved, gathering as much information about the people and their society as possible,” Kim continued, his tone mocking. “Not fight every soldier you come across.” Here he stared hard at Jambon. “Or play the savior of every poor fool.” He looked at Charleston at this point. “Or wander the streets aimlessly.” He glared at someone Charleston couldn’t see from where he stood. “It’s as if you weren’t even listening to what it means to be a ranger.”

“Which is what this class is for,” Thurmond picked up, his tone positive. “Now hit the showers. You have Professor Manfred’s class after lunch.”

Conversations erupted across the Combat floor as the students headed for the exit and the lockers.

“That was interesting,” Skopje said to Gala and Charleston as they joined the crowd. “I figured out to follow that carriage thing, but couldn’t get into the palace.”

“Palace?” Charleston asked with a short laugh. “I barely made it past the gates.”

Gala smiled at them both, eyes dancing. “I made it inside the palace.”

“What?!” Skopje said. “How?”

Charleston stopped before the exit. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Gala gave him a quizzical look, but didn’t press him. “Okay.”

Charleston walked over to Thurmond, who was quietly conferring with Kim and Medina.

“Professor Thurmond?” Charleston said. “May I talk with you for a minute?”

The big man looked at Charleston, then said something to the others, who glanced at the boy and left.

“What’s up?” Professor Thurmond asked in a friendly way.

“It’s the simulation,” Charleston began. “Are we really supposed to ignore everything that happens during it?”

Tank laughed a deep laugh. “Charleston,” he began half reproachfully, “it seems you’ve completely missed the point. You aren’t supposed to ignore anything. You’re supposed to do the exact opposite.”

Charleston shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Are we really supposed to remain unnoticed, regardless of the horrible things we see happening around us?”

“You mean the woman,” Thurmond replied and sighed. “I thought you might have an issue with her.”

“They were beating her!” Charleston replied heatedly. “She was defenseless!”

“Yes, I know. I helped write the program.”

“What?” Charleston replied. He didn’t know what he was more surprised to hear: that Thurmond had come up with such a horrible scenario or that he knew enough about technology to bring it to life in the simulation.

“Listen,” Thurmond began, “you have to remember your mission. It’s of the utmost importance. More important than anything else you may encounter on whatever planet you end up on. All our lives depend on your success. You must blend in and find out as much as you possibly can about the intelligent life you encounter and their society, government, military, and anything and everything that seems important. You cannot be discovered. No matter how many women you see being abused, you can’t let your sense of justice win out and rush to their rescue. This would surely give you away.”

“But why is it so important we blend in to begin with?”

“What do you think would happen if we discovered an alien life form living among us?” Thurmond asked patiently.

Charleston shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it would depend on who the alien was.”

“You’re young and naïve,” Thurmond replied, though not maliciously. “You don’t fully understand how the world works. What we would most certainly do is capture it and make sure it wasn’t a threat to us. Then we would hand it over to our scientists who would study it and perform all kinds of experiments on it. We wouldn’t let it out of our control. Ever. And that’s exactly what will happen to you if you’re caught.”

“But why?” Charleston replied. “What if it was harmless?”

“It’s a risk we couldn’t take. And it certainly wouldn’t be harmless. Think about it. How did a harmless alien travel through space, land on our planet unobserved, then blend in to our society? That would require technology at least on par with what we possess. And the chance this alien is the last of its species is highly unlikely. Where there’s one, there’s more. We couldn’t risk not learning as much as possible about this new creature and any plans its kind had to invade us.”

“But we’re doing exactly what you just said!” Charleston replied passionately. “We’re going to travel to a foreign planet, explore it, then invade it!”

“We’re not going to invade anything,” Thurmond replied. “We’re going to live with the locals peacefully. And that’s if we don’t find a suitable uninhabited planet first, which is far more likely I think.” He shook his head. “Look, it’s all still new to you right now. You’ll understand your role better as you progress in class. For now, just remember to remain unnoticed in whatever simulation you find yourself, regardless of what is happening.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Now go shower. You’ll be late to lunch.”

Charleston did as he was told. Most of his classmates had already showered, dressed, and left for lunch by the time he reached his locker and began undressing.

“Did little baby Les get in trouble with the professors?” Jambon’s voice came from behind him. Charleston had seen little of the bully since Founder’s Day. That would change now that they were in the same class. “Or did you just want to do a little ass kissing right at the start to make sure they treat you nice?” His voice oozed mockery.

There was no more Apu to issue warnings for foul language it would seem.

As Charleston turned to face the large teenager from Orange Ship, he wondered if there would be anything to swoop in and break up a fight. “I see you’ve already managed to find a minion,” Charleston nodded towards the smaller kid who was standing next to Jambon smirking maliciously. He was from Gray ship. “It must be hard always needing bodyguards around you to feel safe.”

Jambon snorted. “Is that supposed to be some sort of put down? You’re pathetic Les, just like Ark said you were.”

Charleston’s face reddened.

Jambon laughed. “That’s right. She thinks you’re a little loser, too. Which you are, in case you were wondering.”

Charleston quickly regained his composure and took a step towards the larger boy. “You don’t really get how being a bully works, do you?” he began, his voice that of one sincerely confused. “Let me explain it to you. The bully chooses smaller, weaker people and then torments them both psychologically and physically to make himself feel better.”

He took another step closer, the anger under his façade of calm growing. Jambon was a bully, just like those soldiers in the simulation. He bet Jambon watched and laughed as that woman was beaten. “But,” Charleston continued, “I’m not weaker than you.” He stepped still closer. He was now just a few short feet away. “And I’m not afraid of you. The last time we fought, I broke your bones. It’s the bully who’s supposed to do that, not the other way around. All your posturing and attempts to harass me, to intimidate me, only work if you can back it up.” Charleston was furious now, though he managed to keep most of it out of his voice. “Can you back it up, Jammy?”

It was Jambon’s turn to redden. He took a step towards Charleston, but before he could finish his movement, Charleston’s hand snaked out so fast neither Jambon nor his friend even saw it. The bully’s head snapped back. Charleston hit him twice more before Jambon could even get his hands up to protect himself. By then it was too late. His nose was broken and bleeding.

“You broke my nose, you bastard!” Jambon said, his voice full of tears and anger.

Charleston turned and went to the showers.

 

The Podkind is a science fiction/fantasy novel written by Johnny Cycles. The next installment is scheduled for October 25th!

Photo by Ruslan Valeev on Unsplash