Act I, The RecordChapter 8
Chapter 8: My Teammate
Two rivals made one team, a contest over chocolate, and a gift with a teal ribbon.
On the tenth morning, Layla and Fanny were both in the drill hall by half past four when Professor Joe walked in on a cane. His shoulder was strapped, and his two ribs made him stand stiffly.
“Team B3 is dissolved,” he said. “Roger has gone to another pair. He reports that he falls down less. You two are the Layla-Fanny Team. Mine. Exclusive.”
Layla had refused eleven partnership offers in two years. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“It isn’t a vote. Aspirants fight in pairs. The suits decided that, not the Academy. Two who trust each other pull more out of a suit than the same two apart, and nobody has ever explained why.”
He pointed his cane at the window. Across the courtyard, the billboard of Guinevere and Vexana was lit. “Those two are undefeated. Ask them why. They can’t tell you either.”
“From today you share one score. A kill is a point. A civilian carried clear is ten.”
One score meant nobody on the team to beat. Fanny said, “Understood.”
Joe ticked both names on the pairing sheet with his stylus, two small marks with the same slant. “I pair on hours, not scores. You two put in the most hours in my year.”
Layla took that to mean the drill hall’s sign-in sheets. She kept her own score anyway.
In freeform training, the drones came at them in a flock. Layla’s cannon took one clean out of the air. It hit the floor at her feet, its eyes two little crosses.
Fanny took the rest. Her cables shot out, and she swung through the flock with her blades. Drones rained down around her.
When it was over, Fanny stood in a heap of wrecks. Layla stood beside her one drone and glared at it.
“Why am I always the one getting hurt...?”
Fanny looked at her, puzzled. Nobody had touched her.
Jump training was on the Academy roofs. Layla backed up to the rail, ran and leaped the gap. She landed among the dishes on the far roof. A score flashed up beside her: 10 POINTS. She spread her arms wide.
Wind hit her from behind. Fanny went past on her cables, over that gap and the next, and landed on a roof two floors higher.
Layla stood there with her arms still out.
Then came the day the whole Academy traded chocolate. Layla walked down the corridor with nineteen boxes stacked to her chin. “Hah, you won’t be beating me this time!”
Fanny came in at the far door. Her hands were empty.
Ah, she didn’t get chocolate, did she?
Layla hid her smile behind her hand. “Fanny, did you get any chocolate? I’ve received tons!”
Fanny glanced over her shoulder. Behind her, boxes stood stacked in a wall. Layla counted twenty-six.
“Humph.” She turned her back on the wall.
In class she sat with her arms folded and glared at her desk. “I’ll win next time for sure!”
A pink box with a teal ribbon came down on the desk in front of her. Fanny had both hands on it.
“This is for you, my teammate!”
“For me? Well..... It’d sure be rude of me not to accept your kind gift!”
That night, in the lab, Layla set the box on the top shelf beside the trophy, ribbon facing the room.
The Enders no longer came in waves, only handfuls. The third years went through the gate portal day after day. Layla took charge, because somebody had to, and went first, so that Fanny would be covered. Fanny followed with a frown.
She wants to go first, thought Layla. She let her have the frown.
The raid that mattered was on a shore ward. At the portal, a pink-haired girl stopped in front of Layla with her chin up.