convincing. I ran.
Iâd been on a hunger strike the last week. This week Iâd been drinking punch and flying around the world to parade myself as a new recruit. I was jet-lagged and bewildered. Out of breath.
Smaller, faster recruits than me ran past as I struggled to keep to the middle of the pack, highly aware that just a few people struggled on behind me in the wet sand.
Zap! I glanced behind to see the girl with wide eyes eat sand as the carapoid got within reach and tapped her.
She lay facedown on the beach, quivering, as several of the other girls gave her and the drill instructor a wide berth to pelt for the pier. They passed me by; Iâd slowed down as Iâd looked behind.
I snapped my attention forward and ran like hell, passing a purple-haired girl wearing a leather jacket and jeans. She glanced over at me, and her eyes glinted silver in the sunlight. A couple years older than me, than most of the recruits, she looked pissed, not scared like the rest of us.
We all made it to the piers. I grabbed one of the weathered pylons and panted, holding myself up.
âThis wonât do,â the alien drill instructor said as it trundled up to the heaving, exhausted mess of us scattered around the pylons. It moved around on its many legs to face back down the beach, then turned back to us. âAgain!â
It squeezed the prod. Sparks ran threateningly up and down it.
The group took off. But the girl with the silver eyes walked up to the carapoid. âThis is stupid,â she said calmly.
I stayed to watch, still catching my breath, ready to run like hell.
âWhat?â
âYouâve figured out who can run faster,â she said. âBut what the fuck does that have to do with who can fight the best? Unless youâre planning on putting us into battles where we run away from the enemy a lot.â
The carapoid rubbed its forehands together, making a cricket-like chirp. âNow, thereâs some spit,â it said. âWell done. Youâre right. This exercise tells us nothing about you other than who can run the fastest, and thatâs not all weâre looking for. There will be more tests, donât you worry about that. But what it also tells us isââ
It slammed her on the chest with the prod. She fell back against the pylon behind her, but surprisingly kept standing. From her jacket rose a wisp of smoke, and she quickly shucked it off and let it drop to the sand by her feet.
âIt also tells us who follows orders! Now follow my damn orders and run!â
We both took off down the beach.
6
A boy with thick shoulders stood on a chair in the center of the mess hall. His skin dripped salt water from his grays, and heâd shaved his head down to the scalp to reveal a custom CPF Earth-and-triangle tattoo on the back of his neck.
For the whole day weâd been run back and forth down the beach. Until recruits dropped to the sand and wouldnât move. Until we coughed, our lungs burned, and our muscles gave out.
Human medics checked over recruits with burn marks on their skin as we milled about and eyed the kitchenâs empty counters. The food that had been left out had been snapped up by the runners who got to the mess hall first.
Runners like the kid with the South African accent standing on the chair.
âToday, you learned something about yourselves,â he shouted at us. âAbout the warriors you really are. Or arenât. Over the next few days, we will find out who the true fighters are, and who will be our support staff mopping the barracks while we fight to protect Earth!â
âSounds like a lot of bullshit,â I muttered.
Someone next to me snorted. I hadnât realized Iâd said that out loud. I was more tired than I realized. She nodded though. âHis nameâs Ken Awojobi. He was on my transport in. His family is in deep with the Accordance. Heâs on the officer track, and he knows it. Been