SLAM Read Free Page B

shut out the
memories, and the overwhelming feeling that she’s let her baby
brother down, again.
    *
     
    She stays on the bed for an hour or so before
the unrelenting pain drives her through the annoyingly sympathetic
company of ARC headquarters to the Medical Bay. By the time the
third active operative, his insignia shining on mismatched civilian
clothing, has slapped her supportively on the shoulder, she is
holding back the urge to deck someone.
    Trying not to show how much her
leg is hurting, she hobbles miserably into the Med Bay for
treatment. It’s a slow day, and they soon have her relaxing under a
ray to break the bruising down. After watching the buzzing green
line move up and down her skin for a while, she closes her eyes
and, bored, meditates, carefully gathering her power and shaping
it, filling herself with the crackling energy that belongs to her.
Meditation is part of the everyday routine for a Psionic.
Controlling their power – harnessing it and bending it to their
will – is something they’ve all learned in training. Much of her
education has been in this sort of tamping down, which helps her to
keep her power ready to use when she needs it, but not involuntarily. After
her scene at the Arena, she feels like she definitely needs to get
a better handle on the link between her power and her emotional
state.
    She breathes in and out as regularly as
clockwork, working at it, until the friendly nurse approaches to
tell her she can go.
    Her leg feels much better, and she has cheered
up enough to join her bunkmates at their table in the mess hall,
taking their gentle teasing as good-naturedly as she can when she
gets there. ARC recruits are warriors in training, and expected to
hold their tempers and suck it up.
    Of course, keeping her hot temper
under wraps is something Serena has always struggled
with . And
thinking about what happened – what led to her injury – is probably
only going to make things worse. Instead of revisiting her failure
over and over, she deliberately decides to focus on the future. She
has a month to get ready. Next month, she’ll get it right. Next
month, her shield will be flawless; attacks will slide over it like
water over glass. Next month, she’ll become an
operative.
    Her light blue gaze scans the
room, and fastens on the avatar of her defeat. Abial is sitting
with Ria and Daine, two respected operatives. Usually she would
have been on the end of this table with the rest of her year mates. Either
she’s deliberately trying to separate herself from the ‘kids,’ or
she’s rubbing her elevated status in Serena’s face.
    Or, maybe, Serena mentally concedes, Abial is
too ashamed to try to join them.
    It’s probably a good thing, since Serena can’t
guarantee that Abial doesn’t have a swift punch to the face waiting
in her near future. It’s always a safe bet to aim blows above the
neck, as Abial has sucked at shielding her face ever since they
were kids, first learning to build an invisible wall around their
bodies. Normally, it would be out of bounds to use information like
that. But since Abial already broke one of the unspoken rules of
psionic combat by using knowledge of Serena’s shielding frequencies
against her, Serena feels she’d be justified. What Abial did was a
violation of her trust. A kind of emotional assault, made worse by
the fact that it was done to hurt. To cause her to fail.
    She stares at Abial until the other girl meets
her gaze, half wishing for something she can understand – an
apology, an explanation. Anything to justify how her closest friend
could turn on her like that, and block her only path to her
brother. But Abial just twitches an eyebrow, a placid expression on
her broad, tanned face.
    Serena stifles a growl and narrows her eyes.
She mouths ‘next time,’ and grins when Abial blinks and looks
away.
    Jue nudges her gently in the side with an
elbow. “You could fix global warming with a stare that cold. We’ll
just put you