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COLONY SHIP 02, UR: ARKS TRAINING ACADEMY
No matter how Akasha looked at it, she stood out. That was the sole thought occupying her mind as she commuted, on foot, from the Training Academy dormitory to the campus proper. Her reason for thinking that was plainly obvious—both to her and everyone else. She was almost a full head taller than most of the trainees and a head and a half taller than most of the women. It was hard
not to stand out when everyone could see you coming a kilometer away.
Physically she looked like a young adult—perhaps nineteen—though she had no idea what her true age was. She still didn’t remember much of anything, really. Her life was a blank slate, her identity a complete mystery. Sometimes when she was bored she liked to daydream about the life she might’ve led, the family and friends who were still out there somewhere, waiting for her to return. They hadn’t forgotten her, hadn’t given up on her. When they were finally reunited they would laugh and cry together and talk about all the things they’d been up to, and it would feel like she’d never been gone at all.
But that was an illusion, a fantasy. The only thing she knew for sure at that moment, walking through the Academy plaza on her way to class, was that she stood out.
Her uniform and combat armor were special-made since the Academy didn't have anything in her size. She was forced to sit in the back of every class because no one could see around her. Most people avoided her, mistrusted her, or both. Not because she'd done anything wrong, but because she was
different. She was conspicuous whether she wanted to be or not, mostly because of her height, but also because she excelled at nearly everything she tried. Her grades were among the top of her class. For some reason numbers and formulas came to her easily, which is why she did especially well in the sciences. On the physical side of things, her size gave her an advantage during training sessions and sparring matches. Even though she was female she was stronger than the men, except perhaps for a few of the CASTs. Her use of Techniques was simply unmatched, even by her instructors. It came to her naturally, effortlessly, an extension of her will. In spite of all these things, and in some cases because of them, she was alone.
She had no friends. She’d turned into a loner, isolated, cast out by her peers—and that suited her just fine. If they were going to judge her without even getting to know her, well, she didn’t care to know them either. And so, day by day and brick by brick, she was building a wall around her heart. It wasn’t something she wanted to do. It wasn’t even something she
intended to do. But life has a way of shaping people, of molding them. With each new encounter and every disappointment, Akasha added another brick to that wall.
Surrounded by an ocean of strangers—most of them fellow ARKS trainees—she had never felt more isolated. She’d learned to tune out the covert glances and the overt stares. She chose not to hear the snide remarks muttered in passing. After three months she had gotten quite good at it, had grown accustomed to it.
It was because she was so good at living in her own world—the world in her head—that she didn’t notice the red-haired man rounding the corner of the nearby science building until it was too late. “Oomph!” he grunted as his face gracelessly ricocheted off Akasha’s chest. He staggered back two steps before catching his balance, his nearby friends chuckling at his misfortune. “Hey, watch where you’re going, will ya,” Red Hair growled in her direction.
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“Hmph.” Akasha strode past the man and his two friends without giving them a second look. The collision was as much her fault as it was his, she knew that, but his presumptive arrogance was irritating. It was the kind of attitude she was so familiar with by now.
“Hey, don’t ignore me!” he shouted after her. “Answer when someone’s talking to you. You think you’re better than me? You lookin’ down on me, you freaking giant?!”
Akasha stopped dead in her tracks.
Keep walking, she told herself.
Don’t give him the satisfaction of turning around.
“She heard you that time,” one of his friends snickered.
“I’ve seen you around, you know,” Red Hair called out, still addressing Akasha. “Don’t think you’re some big shot just ‘cause you’ve got a bit of talent. If you apologize to me now then maybe, just maybe, I’ll forgive you.”
“Let it go,” she whispered through clenched teeth, struggling desperately to keep her cool. “Walk away.”
“What’s that?” he asked, a mocking grin creeping across his face as he exaggeratedly cupped one of his ears. “I couldn’t hear you from way down here.”
His friends smirked and chuckled, enjoying the show in their own twisted way.
“Just… leave me alone,” muttered Akasha.
“Don’t tell me what to do! Don’t you dare,” he sneered, stabbing a finger in her direction. “Me, I’m gonna
be somebody. But you? You’re a nobody, and you’ll always be a nobody. No one here likes you. No one wants you around, so why don’t you do us all a favor and get lost. Maybe find a place better suited to your talents? I hear the circus is hiring; I’m sure you’ll fit in nicely with the other
freaks.”
Akasha squeezed her fists until her nails dug into her skin.
Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking...
But she didn’t keep walking. She turned around.
Everyone has a tolerance level and Akasha had reached her limit. After three months she’d finally had enough. She was done being humiliated, done being pushed around. She was going to wipe those smug grins off their stupid faces.
She was going to make them hurt.
Without her even realizing it, a gust of wind energy began swirling around Akasha’s feet. It snaked around her boots and rippled the folds in her skirt. Fallen leaves on the walkway got caught up in the turbulence, pulled along in the beautiful but deadly whirlwind as it expanded outward, quickly swelling to a radius of three meters.
Akasha strode towards them calmly but purposefully. Her cool exterior belied the volatile emotions boiling just beneath the surface, her eyes filled with a cold fury that mirrored the storm raging around her. The wind was howling now and still she didn’t realize it. Nor did she notice—or care about—the looks of bewildered fear on the three men’s faces. Whatever conscious thought had spawned her current state, it was buried now. The only thing left was her desire for vengeance.
Punish them. Make them pay for what they’ve done.
Memories of Shankar’s last words to her echoed through Akasha’s mind:
“You would choose them over me? So be it, but remember, they will never understand you the way I do. Eventually they will fail you…”
You were right, brother, they’ve failed me. This whole world
has failed me. I’m done playing nice with those who only cause me pain.
Two tendrils of wind simultaneously lashed out at Red Hair’s friends, hurling them to the pavement. The third and final tendril caught Red Hair just under his ribcage. Its force lifted him off his feet and flung him sideways into the wall of the nearby science building. A dull thud and pained gasp followed.
And still, Akasha kept coming. The tempest around her gradually subsided as she reached the man, grabbing him by the front of his collar and slamming him into the wall behind him. She cocked her free arm back, ready to deliver the finishing blow. “I asked you before to leave me alone. You wouldn’t listen. Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?!”
Akasha felt her control slipping. At this rate she wouldn’t be able to hold herself back. She wanted to hurt him too badly; no, more than that—she wanted to
destroy him.
Do it.
Do it, do it, do it, do it, DO IT!
“Alright,” an unfamiliar voice behind them called out, “that’s enough!”
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There, standing defiantly in the middle of the walkway, was one of the smallest humans Akasha had ever seen. Barely 150 centimeters tall and wearing a uniform similar to Akasha’s—albeit a much smaller size—the girl looked like she belonged in grade school rather than the ARKS Training Academy. Her freckled cheeks, shaggy bob cut, and sparkling emerald eyes only reinforced that image.
"Hey! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" she shouted, folding her arms across her chest.
It was a totally absurd thing to say, of course—which is precisely why it caught everyone off-guard, including and especially Akasha. "N-No, I... I mean, they were picking on me first..."
"I know. I was talking to them, not you."
Red Hair’s eye twitched in irritation. “Buzz off, twerp, this doesn’t concern you. We can handle it ourselves.”
“That so? ‘Cause it looks like you were about to get your head pounded into the brick wall there.”
“Tsch.” He wrenched his collar free of Akasha’s grip and stalked off angrily past his friends. “C’mon guys, let’s get outta here. They’re not worth our time.”
After they left, Akasha turned to the newcomer. "I hope you're not expecting a thank you. I don't know who you are but I had things under control before you showed up."
The girl looked doubtful. "Oh, really? Then I suppose you know that assaulting a fellow trainee would most likely get you suspended from the Academy, if not expelled. In fact, I'd be willing to bet those guys were counting on it. But hey, since you’d clearly rather sulk by yourself than take advice from me, I’ll leave you alone.” She turned to leave.
“Wait.” Akasha lowered her head and averted her gaze. “…Thanks.”
“Kira.”
“What?”
“My name, it’s Kira. And you’re Akasha. I know who you are, or at least your reputation. Don’t take this the wrong way but you're kinda hard to miss.”
This girl, what was her angle? It was their first time meeting yet she was talking so casually, so freely. Did she have some kind of agenda? If so, Akasha couldn’t figure out what it was. "You know who I am and you're not… afraid of me?"
"Afraid? Nah," Kira replied easily. There was no worry in her voice, none of the anger and mistrust Akasha had come to expect. In its place was a simple, carefree acceptance, a laid-back attitude Akasha couldn’t help but find disarming. “If anything I’m jealous! I mean, look at me. Not exactly the most intimidating ARKS trainee ever, right? I try to make up for it by talking big—don’t tell anyone that, by the way—but maaan, what I wouldn’t give to be a little taller. Just a few extra centimeters would be enough. Think you can spare some of yours?” she joked, nudging Akasha with an elbow.
In spite of herself, Akasha laughed. The strange, rabid fury that had taken hold of her earlier was completely gone, as if spirited away with the wind. “Sorry, I wish I could. Being this tall has its own problems.”
“Yeah, I noticed. But you know, you’re not exactly helping things either. You want to stick to yourself—fine, that’s your choice. But it’s more than that, like you’ve given up trying to get along with people. You’re different, I get it. You’ll probably always have people look at you funny because of it, and there will probably always be morons like that jerk and his buddies around. But so what? You can’t control them, but you
can control how you deal with them. Be the bigger person—literally and figuratively. If they laugh at you, laugh right along with them. Show them who you really are and I bet they’ll forget all about the bad things they’ve heard.”
“I…” Akasha started to reply, then trailed off. “No, you’re right. I tried to hold it all in, but at some point I… I stopped looking at other people, I mean really
seeing them. I guess I just didn’t want to get hurt any more, but that only made things worse. And now…”
“Hey.” Kira laid a comforting hand on Akasha’s wrist, her eyebrows raised in an expression of sympathy. “It’s okay. Everyone’s got their own burdens to bear.”
“Yeah… yeah, I know. It was a mistake, one I won’t make again. Thank you.”
“You already thanked me. But if you ever want someone to talk to, come find me. See you around, Akasha.”
“Wait!” exclaimed Akasha. “How will I find you?”
Kira looked over her shoulder at the Newearl and grinned. “Just start waving and shouting my name. Like I said before, you’re kinda hard to miss.”
That was how, on that fateful morning aboard
Ur, she met Kira for the first time. Though she didn’t know it yet, Akasha had just made her first friend. And somewhere deep inside herself, a brick in the wall around her heart fell away and vanished.
There would be many more to come.
* * * * * * * * *
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COLONY SHIP 02, UR: C-BLOCK, ABANDONED APARTMENT COMPLEX
“Hold still.”
She pressed the razor against the underside of his chin, angling it so the blade would cut most effectively. Shankar didn’t even flinch. She dragged the blade slowly down his neck, forming a trail of bare skin on a landscape otherwise smothered in shaving cream. Flecks of stubble caught in the goopy froth, pulled along with the razor as it traced the contours of his Adam’s apple.
If she was going to kill him, now would be the time to do it.
Of course, he knew that too. He had to. There was no way he was that careless, to ask her to shave him knowing full well that it meant taking a blade to his jugular. To put himself at her mercy after confining her to the apartment for weeks on end. It couldn’t possibly be that easy.
Could it?
At times there was an innocent, almost childlike quality about him. It was one of the things that initially compelled her to help him, back before he had abducted her. But despite his naïveté and youthful face, Shankar was a grown man; surely he knew how to shave himself.
Which meant this was almost certainly a test. He would be waiting for her to make a move, to test the extent of her loyalty and submission to him.
That’s why she wouldn’t do it now. No, she would wait for a more opportune time. Maybe she’d do it when he was sleeping.
Patience was a virtue, they said. Well, she needed plenty of patience now.
So she waited.
* * * * * * * * *
It wasn’t a test.
Shankar knew the woman had resolved herself to kill him. He saw it in her eyes every time she glared at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. It was unfortunate, really. He’d grown rather fond of her company in a platonic sort of way, the way you might become fond of a favorite pet. It was far better than living alone on the street, that was for sure.
Despite her intentions, he allowed her to shave him simply because he didn’t fear her. It was like a bug threatening a goliath; even the galaxy’s most fearsome beetle was easily trampled under the paw of a Fang Banther.
She knew their difference in strength as well as he did. The woman might despise him but she clearly wasn’t stupid, either. No, she wouldn’t make her move now. Later, perhaps, but not now.
As he predicted, the woman finished shaving him without incident. Shankar admired his newly clean-shaven face in the mirror. She did a good job of it, he had to admit. Better than he could have done himself. She'd also cut his hair short and found him a set of garments to wear. It hadn't been easy finding something that fit, not when he was a full head taller than the average man. Combined with the shave, Shankar looked—and felt—as if he’d been reborn.
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Seated in his favorite (and only) chair, Shankar turned and gazed across the room at the woman. As she busied herself cleaning up the shaving utensils, he caught her sneaking furtive glances at something shiny around her neck—something she carefully kept hidden under her top. He’d seen her looking at it several times before.
“You, woman. What is that?” said Shankar, not merely asking but not quite demanding, either.
“O-Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied quickly, stuffing it back inside her shirt. Clearly, whatever it was, it was something she considered private. Something she was willing to defy him over.
Shankar narrowed his eyes but decided not to press the issue. It wasn’t important anyway. If he really wanted to, he could’ve easily taken it from her. He could’ve done a lot of things. He could have forced her down, ripped the clothes off her back, had his way with her any number of times and she wouldn't have been able to stop him. But he hadn't done that, hadn't even entertained the possibility. His focus was elsewhere, on finding the truth about Naya Kestren. To him, this poor woman before him was merely a tool he needed. The ARKS and the police were searching for him, that much was certain. And as frustrating as it was, that meant he had to keep a low profile. He mostly hid indoors during the day cycle, using the woman to fetch anything he needed. She was a nobody, she wouldn't attract any attention, certainly not from the authorities.
At first he thought she might run away during an errand and never return, or worse, inform the authorities of his whereabouts. He'd taken care of that possibility, though. When he had forcibly recruited her, he'd given her a small demonstration of his powers. She’d been much more cooperative since then.
Content with the knowledge that he was in complete control, Shankar gently closed his eyes…
* * * * * * * * *
He was right about one thing: she’d resolved herself to kill him. She stood in the doorway a few minutes later, the shaving razor clutched tightly behind her back. “Um, excuse me…?” she called out, somewhere above a whisper but lower than a normal speaking tone.
Shankar didn’t respond or react in any way. Had he fallen asleep in the chair?
The woman inched forward another two paces, still gripping the hidden razor. “Hello? You awake?”
No reply.
This was it. Gathering her wits, she worked up the courage to do what she needed to do. It was a terrible thing, something she never would have thought herself capable of doing, but she also knew it had to be done. He seemed satisfied with her for the time being, but how long would his good graces last when she ran out of uses? How long would he put up with her then? She needed to take action
now if she wanted to save herself. There might never be a better opportunity.
She crept forward as silently as she could, one step at a time, drawing closer to the big Newman slumped in the chair. He hadn’t stirred by the time she reached him. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and regular. He was, by all accounts, sleeping peacefully. At that moment he seemed gentle, harmless even, and she could almost forget he was holding her captive.
Almost.
Why hadn’t she gone to the police before it reached this point? He’d sent her out on numerous errands, she could have easily done so.
It was too risky, she reminded herself. He’d escaped police custody before—at least that’s what he told her. He could’ve been lying but somehow she didn’t think so. If he got out again, well, she didn’t even want to think about what he’d do. If he came after her, that was one thing, but he’d threatened her friends and family too. She couldn’t put them in danger. She wouldn’t. She’d rather take on the burden herself, even if it meant killing a man in his sleep.
Hands quivering slightly, she carefully extended the razor towards his exposed neck. Her teeth began to chatter and her breathing grew heavy.
Do it, she told herself.
Do it now while you still can! Do it! Please, do it!
The hand clutching her wrist took that chance away. She looked up, directly into Shankar’s unwavering gaze. “You shouldn’t have hesitated,” he said, tightening his grip.
Shankar stood up, slowly and calmly, towering over her small frame. He squeezed her wrist until she gasped and dropped the razor. “I… I…,” she stammered, the words refusing to come out.
"Sleep now," he murmured softly, resting his hand on her shoulder. A powerful jolt of electricity raced through her in an instant, killing her before her body even hit the floor. Wisps of smoke escaped her ears, nose, and mouth.
Shankar stared at her lifeless form for a long time. So that was what it felt like to take a life. He hadn't enjoyed it, but he didn't regret it, either. He didn't feel much of anything, actually. Even though she'd tried to kill him, he couldn't blame her for that. All creatures desire their freedom.
Or at least the illusion of it, he thought darkly. Chances were, he would have ended up killing her eventually anyway, if only to keep her quiet. He had a mission to accomplish—to find his purpose—and he couldn't risk anyone trying to stop him before he completed it. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t even know her name. Not that it mattered now, anyway.
Shankar bent down and gently brushed the hair out of her vacant eyes. As he did so, a familiar piece of metal caught his attention. It was the thing around her neck, the thing she’d tried so hard to keep to herself. He saw now that it was a locket of some kind. Reaching behind her neck, he unfastened the metal chain and scooped the locket into his hand. Using his other hand, he deftly pried it open and looked inside.
The only thing inside was a tiny photograph of two people, an older man and a teenage girl. Was the girl the same one he’d just killed? They looked similar but he couldn’t tell for sure. If it was, the image must be a few years out of date.
As Shankar stared at the photo, a strange feeling swept over him. It was an unpleasant sensation, one he hadn’t experienced before. Was it sympathy? Regret? He suppressed it immediately. Such emotions were a distraction, one he couldn’t afford now. Even so, something compelled him to hang on to the locket. He stuffed it in his tunic and stood up.
His business here was finished. Once again, it was time to move on.
He set fire to the apartment on his way out and didn’t look back.
TO BE CONTINUED
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