The Body Keeps the Score

October 787 UC, Heinessen

Annerose sat with her hands folded neatly on her lap in the guidance counsellor’s office, listening attentively as her counselor brought up her file.

“How have you been, Annerose?” Ms. Talu asked. She was a chubby woman, with dark brown skin and a halo of curly hair held down with a red headband. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been fine, thank you,” she said.

“Your grades are excellent, as always, so that’s good,” Talu said, scrolling down through Annerose’s class list. “You’re definitely on track to graduate, so it’s about time that we’re having this meeting.”

Annerose nodded silently.

“Do you have any thoughts or questions about your future?” Talu asked. “Are you planning on attending college?”

Annerose bit her lip fractionally before responding. “I would like to do what’s best for my family,” she said. “College could help me get a better paying job, I suppose.”

“Don’t be so lackluster,” Talu said. “You would get accepted into any school in the Alliance, with these scores. Do you have anything that you’d like to study?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hm. I’d say that you should go into your strongest subject, but since you do well across the board…”

“I suppose I could go into anything. Whatever would be best.”

“Is there something that worries you about that?”

“Ms. Talu, I did some research on my own.”

“Oh, excellent.”

“I’m not a citizen.”

“I know. Still a few years left before you can apply, right?”

“Twelve.”

“Hm. That is a while.”

“Schools don’t give scholarships to non-citizens,” Annerose said. “So maybe it’s not worth thinking about.”

“I see.” Talu tapped her keyboard for a second. “I think there are some options.”

“Okay.”

“For one thing, there are plenty of trade apprenticeships out there. Those will pay you to learn. Did you have any interest in learning a trade?”

“I’ll do anything that will let me support my family,” she said, as though that were the only thing she could say.

“Okay, then we’ll keep that as an idea. Usually I recommend trades to boys, but I’m sure you would do well. And, of course, you could just get a job immediately out of school, but most well-paying jobs do require higher education. You could work for a while to save up.”

“Can I ask a question, Ms. Talu?”

“Of course, Annerose. I’m happy to answer any questions.”

“You see my brother as well, right?”

“I see all the Ms through Ps,” Talu said. “Which is a lot of students.”

“He’s in the same situation I’m in. When he graduates, where would you recommend he goes?”

“Are you asking this question for him, or for yourself?”

“Both,” Annerose said. “I want to help him prepare. And if it’s something that we both could do, he might like me to do it with him.”

“You’re a good sister, but I don’t think you have to worry about Reinhard. He’s sharp as a knife.”

“So, what would you recommend for him?”

Talu thought for a second. “If he can get in, I think the easiest path for him would be to go to the Officer’s Training School, over in Thernusen. That would put him on the path to a successful career and get him his citizenship faster.”

“But you didn’t recommend that for me?”

“Women are technically allowed,” Talu said. “Though I haven’t ever had a female student express interest in attending there. I’ve heard it can be quite difficult.”

“What do I have to do to get in?”

“There’s an entrance exam, which I feel you won’t have any trouble with, and your scores will be enough. Do you really want to go there?”

“If it will help Reinhard.”

“Annerose, I’m not going to tell you not to think about your brother, but I do also want you to think about yourself. Do some research before you commit to anything.”

“I will.”

“You don’t strike me as a soldier.”

“I can do anything I require of myself,” Annerose said.

Talu considered her. “That’s a dangerous way of phrasing things.”

“I apologize for misspeaking.”

Annerose spoke with Reinhard about this over dinner, wondering what he would say. He was taller than she was, now, having hit the late childhood growth spurt, but not the final stretch of his teenage years. He was a sophomore this year. Reinhard had wanted to jump up another grade level, but Annerose had convinced him not to, saying that it might make it harder for him to find a career right out of school, if he was too young. He was already going to be dangerously young, she thought, to get into the Officers’ school when he graduated.

He liked the idea that he would go there, when she reported almost word for word the conversation she had had with her guidance counselor.

“But what about you?” he asked, delicately taking a bite of pasta, as though it were a fancy meal and not just two dollars worth of ingredients that Annerose had scrounged out of their cupboards. “Are you going to do that?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course I want you to.” He looked at her with those wide blue eyes of his. “We’ll be great together.”

“Then I’ll do it,” she said. She prodded at her own pasta. “Or, I’ll take the entrance test, at least. I can’t guarantee that I’ll get in.”

Reinhard laughed. “You act like you don’t know your own worth.”

She wanted to ask, ‘What worth?’, but she kept her mouth shut and just smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I know you’ll get in. You’re better than them.”

“Them?”

“You know what I mean.”

Sometimes, the viciousness in Reinhard’s voice scared her. “Do I have to worry that you’ll be okay here if I do go?”

“I think you can trust me.”

“You think?”

“I do try not to do things you wouldn’t approve of.”

“I’m not just talking about that,” she said. “I also have to wonder if you’ll be able to take care of mom, and do your laundry, and remember to eat without me bothering you about it.”

“I’m not incapable,” Reinhard said, letting a little bit of petulance onto his face and voice. Annerose smiled to see it-- sometimes it was nice to have him act his age. It made her feel needed.

“So if I stopped cooking dinner tomorrow, you’d be able to?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe I should take you up on that.”

“I’d be happy to.” His eagerness to please her was genuine, but she just laughed.

“You’ll have the rest of your life to cook for yourself. Might as well let me baby you for a few more months.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What?” Annerose asked.

Reinhard switched to the Alliance language, even though that was growing less effective as a method of shielding their conversations from their mother as time went on. She was beginning to learn it. But, since she was not in the room, and was most likely asleep, it still seemed safe enough. “Have you given up on me finding a wife who will cook for me?” he asked.

“You’re twelve. Finding a wife…” She cringed a little, realizing that she had implied that. “I don’t know how you can joke.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he said. She was uncomfortable with the topic, so he switched it before things went too far, which was either kind or self serving of him; she couldn’t quite tell. “I’ll eat in dining halls while I’m at school, and then when I’m in the Fleet, ships have communal meals.”

“And after that?”

“Maybe I’ll live with you again,” he said with a smile.

“Things seem so simple when you say them. It’s the one thing that’s a little childish of you.”

“You think things aren’t so simple?”

“What if I get a husband?” she asked. It was intended as a joke, but Reinhard’s hand tightened on his fork, which scraped unpleasantly across his plate.

“Oh. I didn’t know that you wanted one.”

“I’m joking, Reinhard,” she said, not wanting to upset him.

He relaxed and smiled. “Alright.”

“Does it upset you that much?”

“I’m not upset.” A blatant lie.

“Opposed, then.”

“You can do what you want with your life.” This sentence came out grudgingly, at best. He paused for a second. “I just never really thought about it.”

“And now that you are thinking about it, you don’t like it?”

Delicately, Reinhard said, “I find it hard to believe that any man deserves you.”

“You think too highly of me, by far.”

“I have yet to meet a man I would consider your equal.”

“I’m not sure what qualifications you’re using.”

“Are you looking to hear me flatter you?”

She laughed. “I shouldn’t have asked, then.”

“You are both beautiful and intelligent, and even one of those qualities is a rare thing.”

“I worry that you’re blinded by the lids of your own eyes,” she said. “You might find there are better people in the world than I, if you were willing to look.”

“Somehow, I doubt it.”

April, 789 UC, Heinessen

Annerose spoke with her mother briefly before leaving for school. Reinhard was out of the house; she had sent him to go buy her a tube of toothpaste at the store down the street. Annerose knocked on her mother’s bedroom door.

“Come in,” her mother said, and Annerose did.

Her mother was sitting up in bed, the light from the muted television on the desk across the room the only source of illumination. “How are you feeling, mama?” Annerose asked.

“I’m alright,” she said. “I took some of my strong stuff, so I should be okay for a few hours.”

Annerose perched on the side of her mother’s bed. “Can I convince you to go to a doctor when I go out to school?”

“Who’s the daughter here and who’s the mother?” Caribelle asked. “I’ve been to doctors. They don’t do much for me.”

Annerose sighed and anxiously smoothed down the fabric of her skirt on her legs. Her mother caught her hand and stilled its movements. Caribelle’s hands were thin, dry, and cold as ice. “I told Reinhard that he should take care of you while I’m gone.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I’m not completely an invalid.”

Annerose bit her lip. “I want to make sure that you’re okay.”

Her mother smiled. “I’m fine, I promise. I’m more worried about you than you should be about me.”

“Mama,” Annerose said. “Please don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“You make me not want to go.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s no reason for you to stay.”

“You and Reinhard are here.”

“Annerose, I brought you to this country so that you could have your own future. I want to see you live it. Don’t hesitate; don’t worry about me, or Reinhard, for that matter. He’ll be okay, too.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know. Try, for my sake?”

“Do you think I’ll like it there?”

“I have no idea,” Caribelle said. “I know less about military school than you do, I’m sure. I think you’re a strong girl, though, and you’re smart. That will carry you through.” She paused for a moment. “It’s not the future that I imagined for you when you were born, but if it’s a future you’re choosing, then I’m glad for it.”

“What did you imagine, when you had me?”

“Oh, things were a lot different back then,” she said. “I don’t know. I think I pictured that we would be kind of a perfect family, you know, picnics by the sea, sending you to school in cute little dresses, maybe when you’re eighteen, marrying some respectable man, and then living down the street from me for the rest of your life.” She laughed a little. “A mother can’t help but imagine such silly things. Well, you might still get married, but you probably wouldn’t want to live down the street from here.”

“Reinhard would kill me if I did.”

“Don’t let him tell you how to live,” Caribelle said, voice unexpectedly sharp. “He doesn’t own you.”

“Mama,” Annerose said, not sure why her mother was suddenly so upset. “He’s my brother.”

“Annerose, listen to me.”

“I’m listening, mama.”

“I love you for who you are, and for who you will become. You’re not just made up out of what you can do for other people.”

Annerose turned away slightly, unable to look her mother in the eye. “But I have to--”

Her mother gripped her hand with a surprising strength. “When we left Odin, the whole time I was thinking of how much it killed me, that you would have given yourself up, let yourself be used, if you thought you had no choice. I saw it in your eyes. You wouldn’t have complained, if someone told you it would have been for Reinhard’s benefit. I must have failed you, to make you think that way.”

“You didn’t fail me,” Annerose said. “Please don’t say that.”

“Reinhard is a child. He’s a brilliant child, but a child. And I see the way he looks at you. Don’t let him force you into things.”

“He wouldn’t demand--”

“He might not demand, no.” Her mother sighed and slumped back onto her pushed up pillows, as though the conversation had exhausted her. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she said. “I shouldn’t try to tell you what to do, either.”

“It’s okay, mama,” Annerose said. “Reinhard and I… You know he would do anything for me, too.”

She sighed. “Perhaps.”

“You don’t think so?”

“You would do anything for him because you want to see him succeed. He would do anything for you for a different reason.”

“What is that?”

Her mother closed her eyes. “Perhaps it is rude of me to speculate on his motives. He’s a child.”

“Not for much longer.”

“I know. And I already love the man he will become.” She smiled. “But you’re about to go to school. I can’t believe my daughter is all grown up.”

“Mama…” Annerose said, but she smiled too.

“I suppose I don’t have to tell you to be good at school, or to get good grades. It makes me a lazy mother, to not have to worry about that for my children. Just make sure you call and tell me all about how it’s going, alright?”

“Of course.”

They heard the apartment door open; Reinhard had returned. He stuck his head in the door of the bedroom. “Got your toothpaste,” he said, looking between them. “What are you watching?” he asked, looking at the television that was still silently playing.

“Oh, just some Phezzan talk program,” Caribelle said. “Nothing important. I was just telling Annerose that she needs to be at the top of her class.”

“That won’t be hard,” Reinhard scoffed. “She’s the best.”

“Of course,” Caribelle said, then glanced at Annerose. “You should finish packing. Don’t let me delay you.”

“My train’s not for another two hours.”

Caribelle shooed her up and off the bed anyway.

It was good that Annerose didn’t bring very much with her to school, because she didn't have very much space to put it in. She shared a tiny room with three other girls, a kind of enforced camaraderie, where each had only a desk, a bed, and a trunk in which to keep their belongings. The one closet, for hanging their uniforms, was communal.

Annerose introduced herself to her three roommates. The first was the tallest woman Annerose had ever met, with brown skin and close cropped hair, who introduced herself as Yan BarCarran. The second was a short, pale and freckled, chubby girl with auburn hair coiled up around her ears named Sylva Calor. The third girl, Kino Mejia, had tanned skin and wore her hair in long black braids down by her ears.

They spent some time getting acquainted. Yan was from a family of merchants, and she had decided to join the Fleet because it was the least burdensome way for her to get an education. Sylva was from Heinessen, from the capital, and she was enrolled in the officer medical corps program, upon the insistence of her father (a pediatrician), though she claimed she wanted to switch out of it into something else as quickly as possible. When asked about her background, Kino said flatly, “I’m a war orphan. From El Facil.”

When Annerose described her own heritage, in as vague of terms as possible, the other three accepted it. Though the number of refugees from the Empire was relatively small compared to the many billions of people in the Alliance, a surprising number of them tended to join the Alliance Fleet. It was, in fact, probably more unusual that she was a woman than that she was a refugee from the Empire. The female population of the school was almost pathetically small. That was the impression she got from glancing around at her new uniformed peers as they gathered up on the green to await their first instructions.

Annerose stuck with her new roommates through an orientation session and a welcome dinner in the utilitarian student dining hall. She couldn’t say she knew them well by the end of it, but she at least became familiar with them enough that when she lay down to sleep in her upper bunk, she wasn’t worried that they were going to cause her trouble.

She couldn’t sleep, though. Although she was used to sharing a room with Reinhard, his quiet breathing had a familiar tenor. Here, Sylva’s wheeze, Yan’s light snore, and Kino’s occasional shuddering breaths below her were all unusual enough to keep her awake. So, when all of the lights turned on at once, and they heard the sound of footsteps pounding in the halls and someone banging on the doors, Annerose was already awake. She dropped out of bed immediately. The hallway was full of yelling voices and stomping feet.

She looked around the room. Kino was awake, but hadn’t moved out of bed, and was just staring at her with wide, dark eyes. Yan was rolling over, waking from her slumber, and Sylva was dead to the world still, despite the lights and chaos outside. Annerose pulled her shoes onto her feet.

“What’s going on?” Yan asked, voice groggy with sleep.

“Don’t know,” Annerose said. She got her uniform jacket on over her pyjamas, and then there was the sound of someone pounding on the door, heavy fists thumping like a drumroll. “Should I open it?”

Kino stood from her bottom bunk and pulled the door open before Annerose got an answer from anyone else. There was a man in the doorway, shirtless but wearing uniform pants and shoes, with a stripe of red paint smeared across his eyes and nose. “Good morning, ladies,” he said with a wide smile. “Time to go.”

“Who are you?” Kino asked.

“Not taking questions at this time. Let’s go, ladies. Outside.”

By this time, Sylva had woken up and Yan was pulling on her shoes.

“Why?” Kino asked.

“Not taking questions,” the man said again. “And you don’t have time to get dressed, let’s go, let’s go.” He started pounding on the door again. Sylva was clutching her head, disoriented. Students in various states of undress were streaming past their door now-- pyjama clad freshman and half-uniformed upperclassmen looking like wild men.

Annerose felt panicked, but she also probably didn’t have a choice.

“What happens if we don’t go?” Yan asked suddenly, her shoes on her feet.

“You don’t want to find that out. Go!” the man said again, and then with a final bang on the door, ran off, joining the horde that was streaming past the door.

Kino glanced around at the other three women, then took off running down the hallway in her bare feet, following the crowd. “Jeeze, Kino!” Yan yelled, and dashed after her.

“I’m gonna follow--” Sylva said, and although she had only one shoe on, stumbled out the door into the rush. Annerose didn’t want to lose sight of the only familiar faces she had, so she ran, too, jostled by the crowd.

Outside, in the cold and damp night air, everyone kept running. On the edge of the crowd, there were upperclassmen with torches, flaming pillars, whooping and hollering and ushering the crowd along. Some people stumbled and fell and were left on the side of the road, or hopped over by the rushing crowd.

Annerose wasn’t sure how far they ran, but it was far. She was exhausted by the time they finally arrived at their destination, but at least she was wearing shoes. Everyone who didn’t have time to put them on must have been suffering badly. The freshmen were all doing worse than the upperclassmen hustling them along, because all of them seemed inexhaustible. Perhaps their enthusiasm for whatever was coming bolstered them, but the fear that was growing in Annerose’s stomach seemed to drag her down. For the first time, it really hit her what she had gotten into.

They ended up in a field, far enough away from the buildings of the school and city that even their lights couldn’t be seen through the trees. They had run along roads, then through a freshly plowed field, and then they were here in a kind of grassy, open space.

Someone stood in front of the crowd, yelling. “Welcome to hell, freshmen!” he shouted. “Line up!”

Stumbling almost blindly in the dark, tripped by the invisible dips in the grass, the freshmen huddled up into some semblance of a group. They were all too tired and nervous to even whisper to each other in the dark, still strangers.

“You might feel like you’re hot shit for being here,” the man at the front of the crowd yelled. “You might feel like you deserve to be here! But I will tell you right now-- you don’t deserve anything! You’ve gotta earn it!

“And when you earn it, you start from nothing! All of you from nothing! You understand?”

There was no response.

“I said, do you understand?” he yelled, even louder.

A mumbled ‘yes’ from the crowd.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Yes!”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir!”

“That’s better!” There was some laughter from the upperclassmen now. “Nice to see some respect for your elders.” The speaker consulted with a few of the people standing near him, who were carrying backpacks. They opened them up and showed him the contents, though from where Annerose stood, she couldn’t see what it was.

“Now, who’s first?”

None of the freshmen volunteered, so the leader of the upperclassmen pointed out a few of the boys near the front of the huddled group. “You! You, let’s go. Come on. Everybody’s gonna do it, you just have the honor of being first. Let’s go.”

They were pushed out into the open, away from the protection of the herd, and a couple of the upperclassmen grabbed their arms and forced them into a kneeling position. From the backpacks, they pulled out a slew of electric razors, handing them to the upperclassmen.

“Everybody starts from nothing around here!” the leader said again. It was impossible to hear the buzzing of the razor over the noise of the crowd, but when it was roughly run across the head of the boy on the ground, his hair came off in huge chunks, illuminated by the flickering torches held above him. He seemed numb, once it was done, and he was tugged to his feet, and the razor was pressed into his hand, and he was shoved forward into the crowd, told to pick someone out. And then the upperclassmen forced that boy to kneel, and the whole process was repeated, over and over.

Everyone in the crowd of freshmen reacted differently, though there were a few trends. Some were excited, some were so scared and upset that they were almost crying, and most were numb. A few students broke off from the crowd and ran away, to the jeers of the upperclassmen.

This was a ritual, and if they didn’t complete it, they would be marked as outsiders, by the presence of their hair. They probably wouldn’t last long, Annerose realized.

So, when someone tugged on her shoulder, she let herself be pressed down kneeling into the mud, and she dropped her head to her chest as the razor slid buzzing over her scalp. She bit her lip so hard it bled as her hair fell away from her head in waves, blowing away on the slight breeze.

There were worse indignities in life, she thought. It would grow back, she told herself. She was doing this for Reinhard, she kept repeating.

And, when it was done, and she was hoisted back to her feet and told to pick someone from the crowd, she grabbed the arm of some boy, faceless in the dark, and cut off all his thick curls. She wanted to apologize, but in the chaotic dark, there was no way, so she tried to just convey her apology in the gentleness of her hands and the way she looked into his eyes when she handed him the razor.

And then it was done.

Annerose ran her hands over her scalp, feeling the short fuzz there, and the unexpected cold of the night air.

She heard the voices of her roommates, and found them in the dark. “Touch my head,” Sylva said to Yan. “Doesn’t that feel weird?”

“If you say so,” Yan said. She had already had short hair, so this was far less of a change for her than it was for anybody else.

“Oh, Annerose!” Sylva seemed excited to see her. “Let me pet your head.”

But before Annerose could approve or deny this request, the whole mass of students started moving again, maybe ushered along by some signal that Annerose had missed, and they were running, back the way they had come, back towards the school, the wind rushing over their newly bare heads, all the same in the darkness.

Annerose had expected that that would be the end of it, that one midnight ritual, but she had been wrong. During the day she went to her beginning classes with all the rest of the newly bald freshmen, but during the night, every night for a week, there was that same nighttime chaos, and some new humiliation, always starting and ending with a run that felt longer and worse than the night before. One night, they had all been made to strip and swim across an ice cold river. Another, they had been forced to crawl through odd tunnels, slimy, disgusting, wet up to elbows and knees, getting filthy liquid in their mouths, unable to see, hearing nothing but the labored breathing of the person before them. They fumbled around in the dark, single file, bumping into someone ahead, pressed on by the crush of terrified people behind them even when they felt like they could go no further, feeling like they might drown or be trapped in these narrowing pipes, until they emerged, gasping and blinking, onto the outside ground, and had no time to rest or wait, but were told to start running again, go, go, go.

Every night, for a week, there was something like this. She started laying in bed with her clothes on, shoes already on her feet, waiting for the inevitable war cries rousing everyone. She didn’t sleep, or she thought she didn’t sleep. She must have, at some point, been so tired that time passed without her awareness of it, which could be called sleep.

She might have felt like she did not exist, her mind being so overwhelmed by the constant action and tension that it could not hold a single thought, but for her body, which cried out in pain and exhaustion. Still, she had said to herself once that she could do anything she required of herself, and she required this. So Annerose pressed on. Even if she let her mind drift away to some other place, her body brought her back to herself, keeping the score.

She didn’t know how much longer it could go on, and almost everyone around her seemed as tired and beaten down as herself.

After class on Friday, she returned to her room immediately and passed out on her bed, fully clothed. She missed dinner, sleeping all the way through it, and woke only when the clock read after midnight. She was still tired, but her body knew that she was about to be pulled out of bed, so she might as well already be awake. Her thoughts were clearer than they had been, at least. She lay in the dark, waiting. Drumming came down the hallway, just like she had expected, and then the doors were flung open, and everyone dragged themselves out of their rooms, down the hallway.

“How much more of this are we going to have to do?” Sylva whined, having at least enough energy within her to complain. Kino was alert and silent. Yan tripped on her own feet as they came out into the hallway, and Annerose gave her her shoulder for support.

They ran.

The tenor of things was different, tonight. The upperclassmen were friendlier, maybe, and one of them pressed a torch into Annerose’s hand, letting her carry it as they ran. “Come on, ladies,” he said, and Annerose recognized him as the man who had been at their door that first night. Tall, broad shouldered, with curly brown hair and thick sideburns. He grinned at her, and she noticed now that he was older than the rest of the upperclassmen, by a few years, at least. Then he dashed ahead, running and vanishing in the darkness outside of the flare of Annerose’s torch.

They didn’t run for as far as she had thought they might. They ended up travelling along the treeline outside the city, then ducking down a path that was too narrow for all of them. Annerose was afraid their torches would light the branches above their heads on fire, but they all arrived at their destination without incident, some clearing in the woods, littered with fallen logs and boulders.

The leader of the upperclassmen stood on one of those boulders, and he yelled somewhat incoherently at the assembly. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your week in hell, frehmen!” He laughed. “It doesn’t get any better from here. But maybe you’ve all earned the right to stay, at least. Enjoy it while it lasts!”

The upperclassmen cheered, and from nowhere seemed to produce enough wood to light a giant bonfire, and then kegs of beer and other random bottles of alcohol. Probably these things had already been in the clearing, but until they were the center of attention, Annerose hadn’t noticed them.

“Oh, it’s a party,” Yan said in her ear as someone struck up loud music. “They didn’t have to get us out of bed for this.”

Someone came around and handed them both plastic cups full of, well, Annerose couldn’t tell in the darkness, and she had never drank before, so she couldn’t identify the horrible tasting liquid. She drank it down anyway.

Annerose sat down on one of the fallen logs next to Kino, watching the celebration from afar. Kino didn’t really talk or drink, just swirled her beverage around in her cup, the light of the fire reflecting off her black eyes.

Annerose didn’t mind the silent company. She was surprised that so many of the freshman boys seemed to have developed an energy for partying, now that there were no more expectations that they would have to run or crawl through something nasty, or be subject to an ever more difficult series of humiliations. Perhaps it was lucky that, in the dark, with their uniform jackets on, with their hair shaved, all the women looked enough like men that they weren’t being bothered.

“They say ‘prosit’ in the Empire, when they drink, don’t they?” Kino asked, startling Annerose out of her reverie.

“I guess,” Annerose said. “Why?”

“I heard them say that on El Facil. I was just wondering what it meant.”

“To your health,” Annerose said.

“To your health, then,” Kino said, as she took a sip of her drink.

“To yours as well.” Annerose’s cup was already empty. She stared across the crowd, easily picking out Yan’s tall head rising above most others’, and saw Sylva leaning on her arm, laughing, teeth catching the light. They were speaking to a man, then Sylva pointed back at Annerose and Kino, and the man headed towards them. Kino got up immediately, without speaking, and vanished into the darkness. Annerose would have followed, but she was too late, and the man was already upon her, looking down and blocking the light of the fire.

“May I sit with you?” he asked. She recognized his voice, even though his face was deep in shadow: he was the man who had come to their door the first day, and then had handed her the torch on her run.

“Have I had much of a choice in anything recently?”

“Of course,” he said. “You could have left at any time.”

“Did you expect me to quit?”

“I hardly even know you. It would be unfair of me to make such a judgment based on just appearances.”

“How fair of you.”

“Of course, there are many other judgments that I will not refrain from making based on appearances.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I think you are very beautiful, and I would like to get to know you better.”

Annerose’s face heated up. “You haven’t even told me your name.”

“Walter von Schenkopp, at your service,” he said, giving her a slight bow. “And now that you know who is asking, may I sit with you?”

“If you must,” Annerose said, but she scooted over on the log and allowed it. He took a seat and stretched out his legs in front of himself. He was close, but careful not to touch her, which she appreciated.

“And what is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Annerose von Müsel.”

“It’s a pleasure, then, Ms. Annerose.”

“Is it? As I recall, I met you under very unpleasant circumstances.”

He laughed. “Unpleasant circumstances are made all the better by having a friendly face in them, aren’t they?”

“Perhaps.” Annerose looked down into her empty cup.

“Care for something stronger?” Schenkopp asked, pulling a flask out from under his jacket. Annerose hesitated, but the hesitation was taken as consent, and he poured something into her cup. She didn’t drink it immediately, and he smiled at her. “Of course, I’ll be a gentleman and prove that I’m not trying to poison you,” he said, and took a swig from his flask. “Cheers!”

Annerose took a hesitant sip from her cup. The alcohol burned on the way down, and she coughed. He laughed at her. “Not much of a drinker, are you?”

“It’s an unladylike habit to get into,” she said, but took another sip.

“Ah, but are you a lady, or are you a soldier?”

“I am what you say I am.”

“Luckily, I am of the opinion that one can be a fine lady and a fine soldier at once.”

“You flatter me.”

“Where are you from, Ms. Annerose?”

“Wrightsville,” she said.

“And that’s the Wrightsville accent I hear in your voice?”

She frowned. “What do you think you hear in my voice, Mr. von Schenkopp?”

“Well, Ms. von Müsel, I would describe it as the same accent I hear from my own grandmother.”

“Being compared to a man’s grandmother is not a flattering comparison.”

He laughed. “I thought you were uninterested in my flattery.”

“Mr. von Schenkopp, I’m afraid that I’m poor company, as I am mostly interested in getting a good night’s sleep, for once.”

“We won’t be bothering you again,” he said. “Unless you invite me to bother you in your bedroom, of course.”

“What a crass thing to say.”

“Is it more or less crass than a shirtless man banging on your door in the middle of the night, uninvited?”

“Since you were knocking on all the men’s doors as well, I did not take it as a proposition,” she said. “Unless you’re saying that I should have?”

He laughed. “Let’s not let anyone hear you cast that aspersion on me.”

She smiled a little bit. “Why are you here, Mr. von Schenkopp?”

“In what sense are you asking?” He stretched, flinging his arms out behind him. “I’m in this universe because my parents slept together under the light of the stars; I’m in the Alliance because my grandmother decided she could no longer bear to live in the Empire; I’m in the Fleet because I’d like to prove myself to my adoptive homeland; I’m in this Academy because my superior officers in my combat unit decided I was too smart to not be trained as an officer; and I’m sitting here with you because you caught my eye, and you allowed me to. Does that answer your question?”

“And several more that I would not have asked,” she said, and took another sip of her drink, feeling the alcohol in her head, now. He poured her some more from his flask, and she looked askance at him. “Are you not afraid of germs?”

“You crawled through the sewers two nights ago, and now you’re asking me if you should be worried about a little spit? I love women, but I will never understand them.”

“I believe, Mr. Schenkopp, the thing that one must understand about women, is that we will suffer any indignity that must be borne, but we are not in the habit of creating indignities that serve no purpose.” But she took a sip of her drink anyway, and he smiled at her.

“I’m glad, then, that you find putting up with my spit to serve a purpose.”

“It’s hard to refuse a kind offer, even if it does have germs attached to it.”

“Don’t let any of the rest of these fools hear you talk like that. It’s a dangerous thing to say.” He gestured around at the crowd of students, freshmen and upperclassmen alike.

“I think I can figure out for myself which offers are safe to accept and which should be refused.”

“I did not intend to imply that you couldn’t,” he said. “I’m simply telling you that you are in a nest of vipers.”

“Mr. Schenkopp, please realize that you do not make yourself seem any better in comparison by dismissing your peers.”

“So, the lady has teeth.”

“And claws.”

He laughed again. “Perhaps I should request that you use them on me.”

“You are a naive man if you think that I would accept a proposition from you at this hour.”

“But at some other hour?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Ms. von Müsel, you are excellent company,” he said, then stood. “Though clearly you do not hold the same opinion of me.”

“It’s late,” Annerose said. “I find myself unable to form positive opinions on anything, at this hour, at least.”

“But at some other hour?” he asked again.

“Perhaps.”

He smiled, then. “I will have to find you during one of those more appropriate hours. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party.”

“I’m sure I will enjoy much more going back to bed.”

He laughed. “I thought you were having a good time.”

“You and I have very different perspectives tonight, Mr. von Schenkopp. Don’t you remember going through this yourself?”

“Oh, as if it were yesterday.”

“And you enjoyed yourself at a party after a week without sleep?”

“Would it be crass to say that I did, and that I enjoyed the best sleep of my life with a beautiful upperclassman upon that week’s conclusion?”

“Yes, that would be extremely crass to say,” she said.

“I’m afraid I run my mouth altogether too much.” He waved at her. “Some other time, then, Ms. von Müsel.”