Threader (12 page)

‘Put her down, Dutch.'

My eyes skitter over Dutch's shoulder to see Blake. His face is blank, hands balled into fists by his side. Dutch doesn't turn around, but drops me all the same. My knees wobble and I nearly collapse. I push myself against the wall behind me to stay upright.

Dutch now swings around to face Blake, giving me his back. ‘This ain't got nothing to do with you, Galloway.'

Blake steps forward. ‘Back off her, or I will make you hurt.'

‘Try it.' Dutch raises a fist at Blake. The move sees his elbow smash into my cheek and my head cracks against the wall. My knees give way and bright dots spark my vision as I slide down the wall, right cheek throbbing. While the blow is an accident, I'd bet it's a happy one on Dutch's part. I hear the scuffle of feet, accompanied by some fleshy thumps and grunts. Then Blake growls something to the primal, followed by the sound of quickly retreating footsteps. When my vision blinks clear, I see Blake leaning over me.

‘You okay?' he asks.

‘I'm fine.' I look around. ‘Where'd he go?'

‘Dutch won't bother you again.' His eyes drop to my cheek and his face tightens. ‘I heard about your run-in with him earlier. Thought he might come looking for you.'

‘I could have taken him.' I get unsteadily to my feet, waving off his hovering hands as he tries to help. ‘I'm just tired, is all.'

‘You look terrible. Just how hard did they push you in the evaluations?'

‘Nothing I couldn't handle.' I straighten and my head spins. Blake grabs me as I sway.

‘I'm taking you to medical,' he says.

‘No.' I try to pull out of his hold, but he won't let me go. ‘I just need to sit down for a moment. Catch my breath.'

Blake helps me back to the bench and sits down next to me. Eckhart's warning to keep my distance from the slider rings loud in my ears, but I'm not sure how to bring it up without sounding ungrateful. His large body radiates an inviting warmth against the chilled twilight air and I clench my hands, fingernails biting my palms, as I remind myself to keep my distance.

Focus, Josie.

Staaay
focused.

‘All those books you bought from my uncle,' I say. ‘Were they part of your spying act?'

Blake's bulky body shifts on the bench. ‘My job was to make sure your enquiry wasn't a false lead. But the books were for me.' He shrugs a broad shoulder. ‘I read. It was considered quite a flaw when I was in the army. And—' he hesitates, then says, ‘—I liked your uncle.'

His honest answer surprises me. ‘I don't think he's a fan of yours anymore. He doesn't trust Helios, or anyone associated with a corp.'

Blake stares down at his hands. ‘I figured as much. He's ex-army, isn't he?'

‘He fought in two of the Corp Wars.' I pause, knowing I should leave, but the moment is comfortable and I'm reluctant to end it. ‘What did you do in the army?' I ask.

‘Grunt work for a few years,' he answers. ‘Then I transferred into the military police division and joined a special investigations unit.'

‘Sounds fancy.' I smile, then wince at the pain in my face.

Blake sees this and frowns. ‘I really think you should go to medical.'

‘Forget it.' I flap a hand about. ‘So, in this unit, did you go around solving crimes like a detective?'

Blake's body relaxes and he chuckles. ‘Mainly we hunted down soldiers who thought they were above the law.'

‘Why did you leave?'

His face freezes, then settles back to a mild expression. ‘My father decided it was time for me to come home. He employs persuasive men.'

Sensing I'd stumbled on a sensitive subject, I stand, my legs feeling stronger. ‘I should go.'

‘Wendell messaged me earlier.' When Blake straightens, he looms over me. ‘She said your thread might be locked with my talent somehow.'

My eyes drop to my boots. ‘I didn't even realise something like that was possible.'

‘First I've heard of it too. I've run with hydras and primals in the past during field work, but mostly kept away from espers.' He pauses, then adds, ‘You're the first threader I've actually met in the flesh.'

Eckhart's warning about keeping clear of Blake echoes back to me, and worried someone might see us together, I make a show of dusting my hands. ‘Hope it's been awesome for you. But for future reference, I can take care of myself with bullies like Dutch.'

‘Yeah?' Blake steps forward with a grin, backing me up until I hit the wall. He braces both arms either side of me, caging me in. I place a hand on his chest, trying to keep a measure of distance between us, and the sensation is electric. I give a little push, but he doesn't budge. I mean,
hellooo
. Personal space?

‘Dutch isn't going to be the worst of it,' Blake says. ‘And as for handling yourself? If you were able to do that, there wouldn't be the issue of a possible lock.'

‘Yeah, yeah. Didn't we already have this conversation?' Nervous about this lock business, my voice catches. I give a little cough, pretending I have something in my throat. ‘Look. We're supposed to stay away from each other, you know. Kind of the opposite of what's happening now.'

Blake's grin drops. ‘Don't tell me what to do, threader.'

I search for a smart reply, but his closeness has short-circuited my thoughts, so I just swallow a few times and try to reboot my brain.

‘You'd better hope you make Director Eckhart happy.' Blake leans closer, his warm breath washing over my face. ‘Because the academy will toss you out if you're no use to them. Eckhart might be all smiles and pep talks now, but you wouldn't be the first gifted cadet he kicks out for not living up to their expected potential.' Then his arms drop and he walks off.

‘Thank you, Mister Obvious,' I throw at his retreating back. ‘Rest assured this lone wolf will do just fine.'

I hear him snort, before he disappears around a corner. I scowl, but know it's pointless to be angry at him. Blake obviously bought into the image of being a big scary slider, the one Cora's so afraid of. Well, I'm not buying it. Much. He
is
big and he
is
kind of scary. But I'm not afraid of him. But Cora was right about one thing.

Blake Galloway is a meathead.

The next day, I wake later than the other girls in the dorm. Most of them are on their way to the canteen by the time I return from the communal showers and they mostly ignore me, chatting among themselves as they walk out. Standing by my bed, it suddenly hits me I have no privacy to dress. Three girls remain in the room, two on beanbags and wearing net-glasses, the third lying on a top bunk across from me, tapping in notes on her slate. She registers my embarrassment as I stand by my bed, frozen.

‘Relax,' she tells me. ‘Being seen naked should be the least of your worries.'

Turning away and juggling my towel and clothes, I quickly pull on my clothes. Breathing a sigh of relief when I'm dressed, I peek a glance at the girl with the slate and see she's got her net-glasses on now, though her fingers are still flying across her slate screen.

Pocketing my new slate, I rummage through my rookie pack and find a snazzy pair of net-glasses, but can't quite get them to work right. Every time I try to focus on the screen to the top right of my vision, I go cross-eyed. After walking into the wall twice, I manage to hurt my nose and crack the lens. Deciding they aren't for me and not wanting to report broken property in my first week, I shove the glasses back into the bag.

A glance at my slate tells me I've got enough time for a quick breakfast before my first lecture. I find Cora sitting with Darsh in the rapidly emptying canteen. Cora has finished eating, but Darsh is working on what looks like his second bowl of cereal with a side of three blueberry muffins.

‘Hello sleepy-head, let me look at your schedule for the day.' Cora checks out my slate when I pass it to her. ‘Good. We've got the first two lectures together, then combat later on. I can help you catch up with my notes, no problem.'

She taps in a few commands to her slate, then bumps the screen to mine and her notes begin to stream across. ‘The Human Potential Program?' Darsh rolls his eyes. ‘Great place to catch up on a nap.'

‘What's it about?' I ask.

‘Just some boring history stuff,' Cora says. ‘It can be dry. But after that, you've got Awareness Meditation, which is super easy. The professor is a bit weird though. She brings her pet bulldog, who always snores through the whole thing.'

‘You're kidding,' I say.

‘His name is Truffles and he also farts a lot, but you get used to it.'

I take my slate off her and scan my day, trying to memorise it.

Human Potential Program

Awareness Meditation

Basic TP: Scanning, Perception and Meditation

Break

Diagnostics

Basic Combat

Free period

I look up at Cora. ‘What's Basic Combat?'

‘All cadets have to take it,' Darsh says. ‘It's like the worst physical education class you ever took, over and over and over. Mine is first up today.' He gestures to his muffins. ‘Why else do you think I'm carb loading?'

Cora slaps his arm. ‘Don't scare her.' She gives me a reassuring look while Darsh rubs his shoulder, pretending to be wounded. ‘You'll do just fine.'

The Human Potential Program lecture is held in a large hall with electronic boards that overlap each other and move around by mechanical controls. The seating in the classroom is tiered, and I follow Cora towards a row in the centre. Once we're settled, she pulls out a pair of net-glasses.

‘Did you forget yours?' she asks.

‘I think mine didn't work right.' Looking around the room, I see most cadets wear a pair.

‘Yeah?' Cora frowns. ‘That's weird. I'll get Darsh to look at them. They're pretty handy to have, if you want to check a reference. I guess you can just use your slate though.'

Archer enters the room, pausing in the doorway to shove a tanned hand through his curls. When he sees me, he grins, then makes his way towards a seat at the back where Cooper is chatting up a pair of giggling girls.

‘Do you want to go to the basketball game coming up?' Cora says. ‘The Helios Hurricanes against the Albright College Lions.'

‘Who are the Albright Lions?' I ask.

‘A dinky little community college for talents, just south of here. I almost feel sorry for them, they don't stand a chance against the Hurricanes.'

‘Uh, maybe.' I try to sound enthusiastic, but I've never really been into sports, preferring to read or watch a classic movie. Anything with aliens or zombies and I was sold.

The hall falls silent when the lecturer appears. He's a small man with a striped bow tie and the information on my slate tells me his name is Professor Buchanan Yates. He settles in behind his slimline podium.

A title flashes up on the middle board:
Human Potential
:
The Influence of the Shadow Biosphere in History.

Yates begins talking and I'm instantly lost. My heart sinks. The information is just as boring as Darsh suggested it would be, especially since I don't understand what we're talking about. Going over the notes Cora sent me, I try to quickly catch up, but it's clear I'm well behind and my panic rises. When I come to the chapter that includes depictions of vampires and werewolves, I flip through quickly, familiar at least with this section. The concept of monsters was how society explained the existence of most talents, especially the primals and hydras. This was before the shadow biosphere was discovered and the leak theory formed, that escaping contaminants from the biosphere were responsible for the mutations.

‘Ms Ryder?'

Looking up, I realise Yates is staring at me. Around the room, people are watching me, looking amused.

‘Can you answer the question, Ms Ryder?'

My face begins to burn. ‘Sorry, I missed it.'

‘Then, since you don't appear to be interested in what I'm saying, perhaps you would like to be excused from class?'

I try to say something in my defence, but my voice doesn't want to work. Clearing my throat, I try again.

‘I'm sorry.'

Yates gives an exasperated sigh. ‘To be clear, I was opposed to you joining my class, Ms Ryder. I don't have time to hold a cadet's hand, so they can play catch up.' There's more snickering now. I sink into my seat, but Yates isn't finished with me yet.

‘However impressive your talents may be, I can assure you, so far, I remain decidedly unimpressed.' He gestures around the classroom. ‘In this room, knowledge is king and you will maintain a suitable average to continue in it. Do I make myself clear?'

I swallow. Sink a little lower. ‘Yes.'

Seemingly satisfied for now, he turns back to the lecture. I straighten a little in the chair and try to follow what he's saying.