Compete by Norilana Books Read Free Book Online Page B

empty. I see a handful of Atlantean officers and other workers, and right near the entrance a small cubicle desk area where an official of some kind sits. Next to him a small group of about twenty teens with luggage stand around waiting. I bet they are all transfers to other ships too.
    The desk officer looks up at me, and it occurs to me he must be a shuttle traffic controller.
    “Hi, I am supposed to report here,” I say awkwardly. “I am being transferred to Imperial Command Ship Two.”
    “Name?”
    “Gwen Lark.”
    The officer scans my token ID to confirm. “Wait here with the others,” he says. Then he picks up a communication device and talks in Atlantean to someone.
    I nod and switch my heavy bags from one hand to the other.
    Half an hour passes. Then, from the distance comes a sudden fierce churning gust of air generated by an approaching wind tunnel, followed by a shuttle. It is one of the smaller personal flyers, moving so fast it appears to be a shooting projectile. But it hovers to an immediate and impossible stop, then shifts sideways onto the platform closest to our side to occupy the first empty slot about fifty feet away.
    A few minutes later, a familiar tall Atlantean with super-black skin and short golden hair approaches from the direction of the shuttle. It’s Keruvat Ruo, one of my Combat Instructors from Pennsylvania.
    Wow, am I glad to see him!
    “Instructor Ruo!” I exclaim with surprise and an easy smile.
    “Look who’s here. . . . Gwen Lark, glad to see you Qualified.” Keruvat’s deep booming voice sounds rich and welcome. He smiles at me briefly—and for the first time his smile is without restraint—then he nods to the desk dispatch officer.
    Seeing him, the officer stands up from his seat immediately and salutes Keruvat in the Atlantean mode—head inclined slightly, left hand raised, with fingers and thumb forming an angle, palm touching forehead, and thumb touching lips. “My apologies, Pilot Ruo, I did not realize you would be flying this shuttle yourself—”
    “CP’s orders,” Keruvat tells the officer in English, the default language the Atlanteans have been using with us, then glances around at the waiting teens. “So, everyone ready to go? Who else have we got here for ICS-2? The CP—that is, the Command Pilot—sent me to get all of you who are transferring to our ship. I think we’ve got only three people, am I right? Or is it four?”
    “That’s correct, four transferring from AS-1109 to ICS-2,” the dispatch officer says to Keruvat with crisp efficiency, checking a screen display. And then he turns to the other teens who are waiting. “In addition to Gwen Lark—Jennica Tulls, Lars Hansen, and Alla Vetrova—your Pilot is here. Follow him.”
    I watch as three figures detach from the group of teens.
    The boy, Lars Hansen, is a tall pale Scandinavian, close to six foot-four (and about the same height as Keruvat Ruo), with faded shoulder-length flax-blond hair that looks almost Atlantean, tied in a ponytail. He’s got a green token ID and armband, a haughty, tight-lipped expression, and he seems to be older, probably very close to the upper cutoff age for Qualification.
    The two girls are very different from each other. I am assuming Alla Vetrova is Russian, or at least Slavic, and if so, she is likely the slim redhead with a blue armband, very short pixie-cut hair, and a reserved, chilly expression. She is slightly shorter than me, but more muscular and toned—which, all things considered, is not that difficult to be, since pretty much everyone who’s Qualified is in better physical shape than I am.
    The other girl who must be Jennica Tulls is very tall, very dark skinned, African American or possibly from one of the African nations, though with her name I am not entirely sure. She has a red armband and token.
    So, looks like I am the only yellow.
    We start walking after Pilot Ruo and approach the shuttle. Up-close, the vehicle is not actually parked on