Chapter 9

Powder

Fitting in at a Military school is just like fitting in at your prep schools. The only difference being that everyone is part of a football team, and there are many opposing football teams in the same area. Each team is based on the groups in their classes, along with the year. There is a pecking order, those that don’t fit in are expected to be cheerleaders, those who cheer on the ones who can do the real work for the team. In all, the summarized version goes as follows: a lot of posturing and most of it is truly wasteful and annoying.

Still the pitting of different classes against each other does bring out the competitive spirit in most of the students, which when lacking true ability to teach, is the next best thing. This way the students are motivated to learn so they don’t get stomped into the ground by their peer and sister groups, and the instructors can go home and drink a case of beer each night without worrying about ruining the students who they have been placed in charge of. A big win, win, well for everyone save the taxpayer. If the taxpayers truly knew what happened with their funding, they would demand a refund. Fortunately, this being the military industrial complex civilization that we are, we know we need the military, just as we need newly conquered territories of the Endar and Dwenvar to claim as our own for both resources and new habitable lands.

That’s right, just the way our ancestors did, so too are we doing it to other extra planetary races. Go to a new place, look around decide you like what they did with the place, so you move in. Capitalism at its finest. Okay, maybe I am a bit jaded after years of fighting the same wars. It should be noted that we are currently in a time that will become known as the Trifling. That’s right, hundreds of battles waged across multiple galaxies where trillions of humans, Endars, and Dwenvars will die. Then only for us to cast aside our differences to face the true threat that is the scourge.

I know what you are thinking that this might be a good thing. By having constant states of war, we sharpen our soldiers into the finest killing units possible so that they are better prepared for fighting the scourge. The only problem is, we are so worn down and apprehensive towards having even a partial armistice, that by the time we finally join the battlefield together no one group wants to fight alongside the other groups. In fact, this very lack of wanting to work together has led to my death five different times on the battlefield.

I would like to believe that my last death was much the same. It would be easy to blame it all on racial hatred, but no. There is an even bigger and more prickly thorn in my side that led to my last death, during the battle when we almost broke the back of the scourge. Two words ruined the battle and doomed my men to die with me. I watched as we were all slowly overrun and eaten alive, those two words: my brother.

Why did he decide to betray me this time? Simple, I out promoted him. My brother who is four years older than me was angry at the fact that I got a stupid promotion before he did. Not that he ever served a moment on the front lines. Not that he ever fought for one single moment against any of the forces that threatened our way of life, the coward. No, he just left us all to die. He was part of the reserve fleet, the fleet that would come in fully refreshed and help turn the tide of battle with fresh troops and supplies. In fact, it was partially his idea for us to gut our ships and remove our emergency escape Faster Than Light (FTL) drives. That way we had the ability to hold extra ammunition and fuel. Both of which ran out for most of us by the time we died.

In the end the troops ended up cursing the name Goldman, while I think a lot of it was directed towards my brother. I couldn’t help but feel a good portion was also directed towards me. We had them. We had them and then we let our own arrogance get in our way. We made the number one failure in any battle, we trusted that others would have our backs. In the end know the only person that truly cares about you, is you.

Ping.

I am thinking about this very subject when who should contact me. The rat bastard himself.

Personal message from Cpt. Chet Goldman.

That’s right, a civilian communications device and my brother has the need to put his rank before his name. I guess I should have seen the ego problems sooner. Looking back, I should have seen the red flags a long time ago. The only problem was he was always my idol growing up, the golden child who could do anything. But the more times I’ve lived through this life, the more times I’ve seen just how wrong I was about him.

Still, this is just day two of this new life. Surely, he can’t be that bad by now, can he? With that I open the message and am instantly disappointed, not in him, I knew he was an asshole. But I am more disappointed in myself for somehow thinking he would be different this time.

Yo, little bro. I heard you got into the Academy. Mom and dad are super excited.

Congratulations.

The message started off okay, but it was the note afterward that made me realize how annoying my brother could be.

Oh, and I heard there is a true ‘freak’ in your class. Purple eyes, gray hair, probably can’t miss them. Anyways we are calling them ‘powder’ on account of what happened to them. Feel free to use that name as well, just let them know it came from you big bro. Oh, and we are looking to get that to be his official call sign. Can you believe the chump wants to be a fighter pilot?

Anyways, I’ll talk to you later.

Your truly better brother.

Cpt. Chet Goldman.

No sooner do I get the message than I get an immediate response message.

The person who sent you a personal message (Cpt. Chet Goldman) is trying to recall this message.

The person who sent you a personal message (Cpt. Chet Goldman) is trying to recall this message.

The person who sent you a personal message (Cpt. Chet Goldman) is trying to recall this message.

After three tries, it is clear to my brother that I have read his email. It is now also clear that he understands exactly who I am, or rather what I am now. After a few more minutes of me waiting in class for the instructor to show I get another message.

Personal message from Cpt. Chet Goldman.

Rolling my eyes, I quickly open the email.

So, Little Bro, slight confusion. There was a slight typo in the last email I sent you. The new nickname we are trying to set for you is ‘Power’ as in you must have a lot to have those eyes and that hair? Also how did you get them? Was that from the Awakening trials? Oh, and speaking of trials, what happened at yours? I mean clearly you had a vision of some kind before you decided to spas out and go swimming in your own excrement. Still, I’m impressed with you little bro. Oh and don’t worry no one here thinks you are a freak in any way.

Then true to form, he once again adds in his personal signature block for me, once again.

Your truly better brother.

Cpt. Chet Goldman.

Reading the email, I sigh and immediately block sender.

Ching. Ching. Ching.

No sooner am I done blocking my brother than several students all get personal messages on their communicators. I instantly note them as classmates who have older siblings in my brother’s age range. They all read the message, then as one turn to me and take an image of me.

With that I see them all go and quickly type giddily smiling all the while. The only one who reads the email and grimaces is Jessica. She looks at me, then back at the communicator and I can tell she feels regret over what she is reading. She even looks along angrily to the other students who are laughing, though she ends up not saying anything to them.

Now I remember the warning signs. Jessica’s older sister was good friends with Chet, my older brother. That was how we all started hanging out. Jess’s older sister, God I forget her name, she is a train wreck. Well mainly she is a wreck because she has been chasing my brother for years. My brother who has been stringing her along like a kite. I am musing over this thought when Chet Lowel, no not my brother, just another asshole named Chet. I am noticing a theme here.

“Hey Powder.” Chet says, giggling as he tries to get my attention. “Hey creepy kid, I’m talking to you.”

Chet says standing up and walking over to me. I know his personality, so I play him like a fiddle. And as noted before, I’m pretty good with the fiddle, if I do say so myself. Anyways, he comes over.

“You.”

Nothing from me.

“Freak.”

Nothing from me.

“Didn’t you hear me call your name, POWDER?” He says taking his finger and poking me to get a response out of me. He even accentuates the word Powder to be even more annoying than the usual coarse squeaking of his voice.

The finger that touched me, I hold in place with Telekinesis. Then I look down at the offending finger and look up to lock eyes with the boy. If I am going to be the adversary already, then I might as well play it up a notch.

“Let. Let me go freak.” Chet says, as he balls up his fist to try to strike me. I grab that fist with another Telekinetic grasp.

“What? What are you doing? Let me go.” Fear grips him as he begins to see that he has clearly gone too far.

“Let me tell you something. You might think it is a mocking name to call me Powdurr.” I say, mocking his way of saying Powder. “But really it is a warning to you. A moniker I will wear with pride. Do you know why that is?” I ask, my voice cold and rational. Like an old villain one might find from the movies.

“N,n, no…” He finally stammers out. He is still trying to pull away, but is held in place by two points, his finger that is still touching me, and his fist that is balled to hit me.

“Realize the name might be more apt than you think. When you think of Powder, realize it is what will be left of your bones when we are done.”

Pop! Crack!

Dang it, I was just missing one sound effect to have the full trifecta, I muse to myself as I use Telekinesis to crush every bone in his balled-up fist and his finger simultaneously.

“AHAHHAHHH! FUCKKKK!! FUCK YOU!!! FUCKKKK YOU!!!!” He shouts, as his fist that had been regular sized a second ago is now half its original size. The finger too is also much thinner and longer that previously seen.

I smile coyly at him. Then I laugh at the sheer terror in his eyes. I am thankful that I can do all this. Fortunately, I am only using Telekinesis for everything. If I needed to switch mental powers, then I wouldn’t be able to pull this off. As it is I should explain a few things. First is that we can only use one Mental or Magical power at a time. That is one for each path, for dual casters like me I can cast one from each school. I can also split my focus and use multiple iterations of the same power consecutively. This was what I did at the diner by creating multiple bursts of Pyrokinesis to block off every avenue of movement, except towards the exit. In this case I am using multiple iterations of Telekinesis to send home a point, don’t fuck with me.

As soon as he realizes the predicament he is in, he begins to tremble in fear.

“But I am not without mercy.” I say, as I instantly begin first moving the crushed bones back into place, once again using Telekinesis. I then begin healing and mending the bones, so they heal almost instantly.

“Ohh.”

Everyone ewes and awes over the healing that is being performed. In fact, I am just done with my little display when the teacher walks in to see Chet’s fully healed finger touching me, and his fully healed balled up fist ready to strike me.

“What is the meaning of this!” The instructor calls out.

I let Chet go, with a bit of a Telekinetic push to help him stumble back into the disused desk next to me.

“Were you assaulting another student in my class?” DI Wagner asks, though his question is more rhetorical at this point.

Chet for his part looks flustered, not only had he been abused a second ago, but now he was being accused of an infraction.

“Drill Instructor, you are mistaken. Cadet Lowel here was just giving me pointers on how to defend myself.” I say to the DI. Then with a wicked smile I turn to Chet, who looks both confused and petrified at the same time. It is a good look on him, much less annoying than that arrogant swagger he usually has. “Thank you, Cadet Lowel. I feel much more comfortable with defending myself against you and others.” My voice is like steel, daring him or his lackeys to try anything.

“Freak.” Chet whispers-hisses, (whisses?), as he stumbles up from the ground. Then with trembling legs he makes his way over to his desk, where he collapses into his seat.

There is a moment as the DI looks over the room. The layout is simple, I am off to the side glaring down Chet and his lackeys, there are a few gaggles of students who look at each other and try to understand what just happened. Then there is Jess, still connected to Chet’s group but at the far side. She looks at me with a sad look in her eyes. A look that fills me with both hope, longing, and anger. God stupid emotions, stop that.

I stare down the rest of Chet’s group, all of whom turn away from me and look forward. Whether they know it or not, their heads are slightly bowed, as if to try not to draw too much attention. Even the normally hot-headed Chet is somewhat cowed.

“Since this is your first day, we will be performing a basic aptitude test. This will judge your power ratings, your ability to use said powers, along with other proficiency related skills you might have learned. For those of you who are not aware, I will go over the basics. You can do anything in the military, so long as you have a certificate denoting your proficiency in that category. Want to be a pilot? Good get a cert. Want to be a mechanical pilot, good, get two certs. Want to be a combat, recon, medical, pilot, fine get four certs. You have four years here. What you do with them and the career path that is provided to you is based on your own work effort. There are classes for remedial uses of power. You can test out of these basic classes at any time. The minute you pass the majority of your core power requirements, you will be allowed to learn any vocational certificate the military has need for.”

A slight pause.

“Any questions?”

Silence.

“Good, then if you will all come up here in an orderly row and I will mark you out by capabilities and aptitudes.” DI Wagner said.

With that several students all race to the front. As for me I just wait, mine is going to take the longest as I will have to prove I have dual affinities. Then I will have to prove my aptitudes right here and now. It is a process, but one I have dealt with several times.

Still, I am left with wondering, one question. Why Powder of all names? Is it because of the hair? Then I realize it likely is due to something that stupid. Oh well, life number thirteen I will be known as Powder, the bone crusher! I muse with a menacing roar in my mind. I chuckle at the thought.

“Care to join us, Cadet Goldman?” The DI asks, sounding less than amused that I am not eagerly waiting in line.

I shrug and stand.

“Might as well, DI.” With that I get in line, but soon get tired of just waiting, so I decide to use the moment to exercise. Quickly I tuck in my shirt for what I am about to do next, then with practiced ease I twist over into a handstand position. Then from there I begin doing handstand push-ups while I wait.

There is a pause as everyone looks at me pumping out hand-stand push-ups.

“Freak.” I hear.

I shrug on my way down as a slight smile fills my lips.

“An excellent idea Cadet Goldman. Everyone while you wait your turn why don’t you too perform exercises.” DI Wagner says, never missing a chance to harp on a good idea.

Grumble.

Everyone begins grumbling, but I just smile brighter. I know I am already the head villain of this class, and rather than fighting it, I decide to embrace the role.

“I can’t take full credit for this. I was particularly motivated by the defense lesson Cadet Lowel gave me earlier.” I say as I lock eyes with the creep.

I make sure to use cleanse continually to keep blood flowing out away from my head, while also alleviating the buildup of lactic acid in my arms.

The process takes a few minutes, but I maintain doing my handstand push-ups easily during the whole time. While my strength isn’t the best at 12, it is more than enough to lift my thin eighteen-year-old frame.

Jess is second to last. It is clear she looks like she wants to say something to me, but my position being upside down clearly makes her feel awkward and so she just nervously glances at me. Eventually she shifts from doing pushups to sit-ups. Then when that is too much, she does squats. I would be lying if I said I didn’t take a quick glance at her form. It was terrible, but her body looked good. Suddenly I felt the need to slightly shift my angle, so she was no longer directly in my line of sight.

“Ah look, the Freak has a crush.” Chet says with a mocking sneer as he walks past me on his way to the sorting room. He trips and stumbles, as his toe catches on something invisible. It is something so light that it is hard to even tell mental magic was used. But he turns to look at me.

“Watch your step.” I say, a smile on my lips. Okay, maybe I am a little too good at being a one-man villain. But still, he had it coming.

Finally, it is Jess’ turn. Then she too leaves. I already know she is going to the advanced course, that is where she and I first met after all. That is why I want to do everything within my power to avoid that awkward initial meeting and test out of these stupid introductory courses.

With a quick flip I am back to my feet and staring at a mildly annoyed DI Wagner. I lock gazes with him, as he apparently is looking for something. Something he doesn’t seem to find.

With a shake of his head, he breaks eye contact first. Then pulls up the two different testing modules.

“Which one are you?”

Which one are you? That is such a great question that it momentarily catches me by surprise. Which one am I? I guess this world, or this lifetime is making me out to be the villain.