Like Ranger, I should’ve been eager to leave the tedious, small town whose epicenter vacillated between a super-store and the high school football stadium. I distinctly remembered feeling so irritated at him for messing with my mission by scaring off Kate that I’d been ready to go toe-to-toe with a superior.
But I wasn’t mad now.
This alarmed me even more. I glanced at the clock ticking down the time above the security door. The Connelly-Mission Meeting would begin in about two minutes, two seconds, if we were to begin on time. Which I’d bet the Connelly ranch we would. The Academy was a precision timepiece—the mysterious whirs and ticks of the machine moving in perfect synchronicity, despite any vibrating disturbances from the outside world.
The feeling I’d been fighting for the last couple of weeks was one I wasn’t accustomed to here—warmth, that’s what it was. I wasn’t able to fully articulate what it was until I’d registered its absence. I thought of Kate, Civilian Connelly, as I would refer to her in the meeting. Her luscious face came to mind, as it so often did now. A smile tempted my lips when I thought of the fascinating blush that always seemed to be coming or going whenever she was around me. Then chastised myself for the hundredth time in two weeks—I couldn’t afford to get attached. It wouldn’t be healthy for her; it wouldn’t be healthy for me.
I should just try harder to give the damn Academy what they wanted. It’s not like the boy wasn’t an eager recruit. I grimaced when I thought of Kate’s lashing words. Andrew was too young to know what he was getting himself into, and The Academy liked to keep it that way.
I contemplated further on our last terrible encounter, replaying the action sequence as it was reflected on her lively face: the stubborn set of her jaw as she waited for me, defiance shooting from her eyes as she confronted me with her suspicions, the crimson flush creeping up her neckline and settling on her face as I verbally assaulted her. Finally, I felt a sick twist in my gut, as I recalled her wet, miserable eyes and crumpled face drained of color.
Causing an innocent girl to cry was bad enough, but seeing the defeat etched into her fresh face was something I couldn’t live with. I hoped I’d only bridled her and not broken her spirit. I’d never be able to live with myself if I did. She was strong, but The Academy was stronger. Bitter coated the back of my throat.
The ring of high heels striking marble shattered the silence of the waiting room. I looked up to see the welcoming face of The Academy, wearing a serene smile that didn’t animate her face. Another image of Kate flashed in my mind, and a hollow coldness stole across my body at her lack of presence in my life. Better get used to it. I rose to greet Weston’s puppet with a smile.
“Cadet Davenport, they’re ready to see you now,” she announced.
“Right on time,” I said in way of greeting.
She eyed my swollen eye, speculating, though she didn’t comment.
“Occupational hazard,” I supplied then gestured for her to proceed. “After you, Miss Rackliffe.” My flirtatious tone fell flat, lacking the spark needed to come off the right way.
She smiled at me nonetheless. “Glad to see you dressed appropriately today.”
I glanced down at my blues, made a face. “Well, I guess if I’m gonna play the game, I better look the part.”
She nodded as if that made perfect sense then led me through the same unmarked door, and down the same narrow corridor, I’d walked three weeks ago. The same claustrophobic feeling hit me as before, but this time, I didn’t fight it by slouching or stalling. Game face on, I marched right after her.
Another flash: the trio of Connelly kids. A lot was at stake here; I’d have to play it just right.
Blair did the honors for me, rapping lightly on the door then waiting a beat before poking her head in to announce my presence. I recognized the deep-throated growl of Weston along with the sure bassy tone of Commander Davies, Head of Missions. The General stopped speaking in his congenial manner. “Send him in.”
“Good luck,” she mouthed.
A facsimile of a smile appeared and disappeared from my mouth the second she turned to go. Drawing a deep breath, I prayed to a God I wasn’t sure I believed in and pushed through the hearty door. Four pairs of eyes watched my progression in. I stopped just shy of the rectangular table.
“Cadet Davenport reporting for duty, sir.” I snapped a salute.
General Weston squinted at me through a haze of curling smoke. After stubbing out his stogey in an ashtray (that doubled as an art piece), he slowly rose to offer his hand. “Welcome back, Cadet Davenport.”
I shook his hand firmly. “Thank you, sir.” I returned to attention. “It’s good to be back.”
“At ease, son,” Weston lightly corrected and then: “Is it?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Is it really good to be back? I was under the impression, from our last meeting, that you were having second thoughts about a career in Missions.” Before I could respond, Weston continued: “It’s amazing what a little real-world experience can do to make one appreciate just how extraordinarily blessed our life here at The Academy is. This life is a gift—a privileged one— that ought not to be taken for granted. Am I right, Cadet Davenport?”
I played along like a Boy Scout looking to sell to a big donor. “You sure are, sir.”
“Looks like you brought back a little souvenir.” Weston indicated my eye, and I gave him a sheepish smile.
“Yes, sir.” I said.
Weston and his A-Team at the table chuckled at my expense, providing me the opportunity to glance over the usual suspects. Ranger was there with his dark presence and omnipresent smirk, Commander Davies with his open file and closed face, and a strained-looking Reese. She caught my eye and gave an encouraging smile. A lot was written on that face in the split second before she resumed her professional mask.
This was a trickier situation than I thought—she still had feelings for me.
Weston clapped me on the back. “Come. Sit down. This is an informal meeting as you may have surmised.” He gestured to the seat fillers and they all visibly relaxed on cue.
Playing parts. We were all playing parts for the puppeteer. Don’t they ever get tired of acting? Maybe they were all so accustomed to doing what they were told, it became a way of life until their free will was completely stripped from them like discarded doll clothes. Robotic Barbies. I thought again of Kate and her fiery resolve. She never simply fell in line when it went against her principals. My mind crashed back to reality and the repercussions I would face if I failed to get them what they wanted.
Scraping back the empty chair, I sat to the right of Weston across from Commander Davies. The slim, neat, brown-haired man weighed down by a lot of chest candy nodded at me, and I followed suit. Then I rewarded Reese with her long-awaited-for smile and felt a dollop of tenderness for my former girlfriend. If girlfriend was what she was. Cadets didn’t date in the formal sense of the word. No hearts and flowers. Ours was more an intimate relationship between two consenting cadets wedged between endless rounds of tactical training, tech skills, and class instruction.
These rendezvous were openly encouraged, as inbreeding was your only option here. Purity was paramount—The Academy had spent decades and billions of dollars assembling the best gene pool humankind had to offer. We were all biologically enhanced lab rats whose ancestors had been bred for specific genetic traits. Desirable traits like high IQ and tall genes. Then bred again and again until all undesirable traits like male-pattern baldness and degenerative diseases were virtually eradicated. We were the property of the organization that created us. Our lives—even our love lives—were not our own.