"Stop bouncing already!" Alisha exclaimed. It wasn't just the rough pavement; her sister hadn't stopped since they got in the old truck heading to what would hopefully be their new home.
Carole wasn't to be repressed however. "Oh come on!" she said, a bit miffed. "We're going to get in to the DMA today!"
"You are," Alisha replied sullenly.
Where Carole was getting the energy her elder sister wanted to know. With unbridled optimism that Alisha knew wasn't faked she laughed "No, we are! Just because you're the first person to ever flunk out of the Combat assessment..."
"Twice," Alisha interrupted.
"Twice," Carole continued without pause, "Doesn't mean you're going to do it again! You learned, didn't you?"
The memory still pissed her off. "Don't hit the teacher, even if he's grabbing your ass. Don't knock him out. Don't spit on him afterwards, and most definitely don't compare his parentage to rodents and apologize for putting down the rats."
If that memory hadn't raised her ire, and if she wasn't depressingly sure that teacher was going to be there again, Alisha might have found her sister's optimism infectious. "Right! So this time you'll pass for sure."
Alisha wasn't as sure as her sister. She hoped she was ready for the sexual harassment this time. She'd worked hard learning to control her temper in the last year. It probably wasn't going to be enough. "Maybe," she said noncommittally. She turned away to look at the dark desert landscape lit by a full moon. Carole would know by that to leave her sister alone. She was getting moody with the memories and she didn't want to lash out at the sister she loved.
Weren't all redheads supposed to have a temper that burned all around them? While it was true for her, Carole seemed to be completely oblivious to the concept of anger. Maybe being ginger negated that temper? Naw, that was silly.
Her sister, actually she was only a half sister, and her cousin (Long story!), was so ginger it hurt. Bright orange hair, freckles, skin that would burn in the shade on a winter evening. She was still growing into her body at barely over five foot, but the regular training had insured it was toned. It lacked any kind of curves, but that was to be expected at only fifteen. In fact she could probably pass for thirteen.
Not like her nineteen year old sister. She'd gotten enough curves for both of them. Even if she was overly muscled by most standards and too tall, those curves made it clear she was all woman. Alisha may have inherited the redhead gene as well, but she was far from ginger. Her copper red hair and tanned skin, when combined with the rest of her charms, kept the boys more than interested.160Please respect copyright.PENANAxq3u34MS0Z
Not that her father let her date yet. He was as overprotective of his daughters as Alisha was of her sister. It must run in the family.
Of course, what happened at DMA stayed at DMA. If she got in at least. She had to get in.
Already in a bad mood she turned her thoughts to her sister. She'd tried to convince the naïve girl that a battlefield wasn't the place for her. She was only fifteen and had time to mature for the role, but Alisha didn't want to see that. Her sister was an innocent, and she should always be an innocent.
Her sister's argument: "I need to. I know it's not a pretty world outside the protection of New Tucson's walls. I can't let that ugliness get inside to kill our family and friends. I couldn't live with myself, because I know I can do it. You do too."
In honesty Alisha did know it. She knew her sister had the talent to be a great soldier. Probably better than herself. Definitely better than anyone else in their home city in the mountains. Mount Lemmon had it's own natural defenses to help, but even one elitely trained soldier would make a big difference.
She also knew that their family lineage was propelling her to this destiny. A family of soldiers, all distinguished, most dead in the line of duty. It was a grim fate that would await them all eventually. She wished she could convince her sister to avoid that end.
Her best argument was Carole's aptitude with glyphs. She understood them on an instinctive level, almost clairvoyantly, and created them with unparalleled speed and ease. Her talent had been enough that a private tutor from the mid-western part of the continent had come to teach her, free of charge except for room and board. Given the expense to move that distance, that said a lot.
Pointing out that her talent would be wasted on the battlefield hadn't convinced her. It only made her more determined. "I can learn out there what kinds of glyphs are needed and improve upon the ones already there! Don't you see, I need to do this to improve. I can even make glyphs while I'm out there to suit the situation. No one else can create them that fast!"
Damned if she wasn't right. It didn't make Alisha any happier. She hoped she could protect her out in the field, since it appeared to be the only option she may be given. There was no guarantee they would be in the same city when they graduated.
"There it is!" her sister exclaimed. Indeed the school was ahead of them. Old Tucson was mostly ruins, the portion that hadn't been cleared for materials at least. The only road between New Tucson and Davis-Monthan Academy had been (mostly) maintained. She'd heard originally it had been several roads but after the collapse and the reclamation of the area they had all been combined and renamed as one: The Catalina Highway.
The initial trip was down the mountain itself. Alisha wondered if it would have been faster to run down it given the number of switchbacks they had gone through. Plus the monsoons had started early, eroding sections of the mountain. New Tucson's location was perfect for defense, but keeping up with maintenance was a never ending battle, and it left the workers susceptible to attack from any number of things that called the woods home.
Then there was the washes when the finally got to the base of the mountain. They were the home of flash floods, and with the last rains happening yesterday all of them were full. Bridges had been erected over the major ones, but there just wasn't enough resources to do it for all of them. Even a small wash could be dangerous.
There were three options when they came to one: Levitate over, which would exhaust everyone even as a group effort; cast a spell to dam the water long enough to cross, which was both foolish and tiring; or increase the traction, weight, and forward momentum and then pray. They went with last one, but kept the levitation option open in case it went badly. On smaller washes it should work however.
Aside from those trials the trip had been easy enough. The area south of the mountains had been mainly residential before the cataclysm. Now it was open desert, the buildings destroyed by time. Alisha had been down here many times, but it still felt odd. In the mountains the weather was much cooler, and the land greener. The sand and cactus looked so desolate in comparison. So lonely.
Actually she should be happy it felt that way. There were still animals that lived here, unseen beneath the surface of the sand. The intelligent ones avoided humans unless their territory was encroached upon beyond their tolerance, or if food sources were short enough to make human on the menu. The intelligent ones were the worst ones to encounter though. The more intelligent they were the better control they had over magic on an instinctive level.
The area for two miles around the academy had been cleared of everything down to the last cactus to give sentries an open view. That was where they were, on the single paved road in the northern half of that zone, and why they could see their home for the next several years.
Hopefully. She hated this self doubt. It wasn't her, which was just irritating her further.
Looking at the lights of the building ahead she expressed her earlier fear. "Don't forget there's a possibility that you won't end up in Tucson."
"Yeah yeah. Some other city-state might buy out my contract, but I doubt it. I'm a native. They'll want me because they can trust me. They'll pay the academy top dollar for both of us."
She had brought this argument up several times, just like the rest of her arguments. She was careful to be oblique about why she brought it up. Carole hated being treated like a child, which is how she would take it. She justified it by saying she was just wanting to be sure she was prepared. She did, so it wasn't exactly a lie, just not the full truth.
As skilled as her sister was it was entirely possible, even likely, that a larger city with better capital and a need for more protection would pick her up instead. That was the deal. They got their training for free with a nearly gaurenteed job if they survived, but they accepted a four year tour with whoever paid the most for their services after. Given the academy's reputation that could be quite far away.
It was a good arrangement. Thanks to drains on their father's income it had been this arrangement that was allowing them to join at all.
It also meant they had to train hard. If the administration didn't think they would earn enough from your contract you'd find yourself expelled. That was the best motivation there was as far as Alisha was concerned. Carole wasn't the only one who felt the need to keep the family legacy alive.
"Rings on," she heard from the front of the bus, and Alisha dutifully placed her school ring on her finger.
"I thought these things were supposed to tell me who everyone was?" Carole groused in a somehow upbeat voice unique to her.
Despite herself she chuckled. "It hasn't gotten any information yet. Mine's showing old info from last year. I doubt it'll show me much besides the building names and who everyone on campus from last year. That information's going to be old though. I'm not going to trust it until it gets updated."
Carole was a morning person, which partially accounted for her chipper attitude. Alisha wasn't, which accounted for her grouchy one. Five A.M. was way to early to be alive. Involuntarily she let out a yawn. I hope I got enough sleep, she thought. I need my A game. Each year is one more year closer to them not accepting me at all. I think next year is my last chan... Wait a minute.
Her thoughts, sluggish by the early hour, caught up with what Carole had said. "You're a wiz with glyphs... How could you not know... Fuck, you're hiding something aren't you?"
Carole couldn't lie to save her life. Her normal defense was to make sure she was never questioned to start with. That misdirection attempt wasn't like her, which meant she wanted Alisha to know something but couldn't come out and say it. Damn it, her brain just wasn't up to figuring out what this morning. Hopefully she remembered to grill her later.
The trip started so that they that they had almost two hours to stretch and get the kinks out when they arrived. She knew now her brain wouldn't stop obsessing the entire time. Well, it was a good distraction from thinking about the involuntary groping she might be heading towards.
At least she wouldn't be required to take the written. She'd passed that with flying colors the first year, and they had carried over. The combat scenarios had been different each year. The first had been a battle royal. Last year's was an obstacle course. She was curious what they came up with this year. Nothing to do but wait to find out. As long as she could hold onto her temper she knew she could do it.
She was still bouncing. Carole was doing it harder if anything now that the lights of the school was within sight. "Hey!"
That put her in a better mood. "You're still bouncing."
Carole was trying to sound irritated, and failing. "And obviously you had to smack the back of my head because of that."
It's good to be the older sister. "Obviously."
A couple of minutes later they pulled in to the shopping district and stopped. All of the passengers took off the cuff that contained a glyph. The bus ran off a combustion engine, but required a small amount of power to provide the spark to ignite the fuel mixture that moved the pistons. This early in the morning magic was also needed for the running lights and the headlights, as well as the instruments on the dash. The glyph they had released, one of the most basic glyphs there is, supplied that power spread between the ten passengers on board.
She felt sorry for the driver though. He would get a rest until the washes receded. Then he'd have to brave the highway alone. The drain going up the mountain alone would be bad enough. Then there was the threat from the animals, which was minimal, chimera and bandits. There weren't very many bandits in the area. The headmistress was very active in cleaning out any bands of them. Chimera were simply rare anywhere south of the Catalinas.
There was a worst case scenario living out there though: a human chimera who had become a highwayman. Few survived him, but those who did had one clear image: gleaming metal scales.
Stepping out, she threw on her sleeveless trench and led the way to the auditorium. She loved this coat. It was sleeveless so she could show off the tribal tattoo on her left arm. Her father hated that tattoo. It was a small rebellious act and showing it like this only continued the rebellion.
There had been a small aluminum ball attached to a pedestal by them. Touching it she felt the circuit form as the two glyphs talked to information and her ring obtained the updated information.
She had only been on campus twice, and both times were brief. She looked over the environment with new eyes and a deep yearning. There was no other option for her. She would make this her home today.
The walk to the auditorium was short. It wouldn't open for an hour so the candidates were milling around outside the doors. Casually she looked them over. The eight others who had been on their bus she ignored. She didn't know them personally, but she knew them well enough not to need to assess them.
Her focus instantly was captivated by one. He was shorter that her, most people were, with shoulders disproportionately wide for his height. He was bald, with misshaped hands and feet, both with wicked talons and claws, that marked him as a chimera. It wasn't the most obvious thing. Only wearing a pair of blue jeans, his scales gleamed in the morning light just coming over the horizon.
She couldn't be sure it was the bandit. No, it wasn't him. That killer would never be here waiting to be admitted to Davis-Monthan. The school ring had given her the heads up on him, which meant he was in the database. Besides his picture and his name, Simon, it listed him as both a candidate and a resident. That meant he was already living here.
Her unease was palpable though. Trying to shake it off she looked over the rest of the candidates. She roughly guessed there were about thirty people in total waiting. There were three main tracks at Davis-Monthan: soldiers, mages, and rogues. It was a distraction to guess who fit were.
Some she recognized immediately as soldiers or mage's. Physically they were of all shapes and sizes, but the manor of dress was telling. Generally speaking the soldiers all carried weapons, and had some form of defensive protection. That was not necessarily armor. Glyphs could be used, but while she was nowhere near as talented as Carole, she did have enough inner sight to find who had those active protections on them.
The Mage's wore the lightest of clothes possible which would barely protect them from a blunt knife thrown at distance, and mages avoided glyphs. A constant drain on their power was not a favorable option. As apposed to soldiers they tended to carry small weapons if any at all.
The ones who were likely to be rogues were harder to pick out. That was their job after all. Some were obvious. They looked normal, ready to mingle in the city. There wasn't enough of them though. There would be others, dressed and armed as either soldiers or mages.
Only minutes a new face appeared from the general direction of the trade district. She stuck out like a drop of blood in the snow. Alisha had no clue who she was, but she knew rich when she saw it. Her clothes were perfectly tailored, though odd. She knew they were oriental from a drawing Carole had shown her once, but all she could think of was overpriced bath robe with impractically large sleeves.
Her makeup and hair on her perfectly sculpted Asian face looked like they'd been done by a stylist five minutes ago. She hadn't been overstating the perfection of her face. It was obviously artificially done, and done well.
She had four bodyguards, all of them looking not just competent, but ready to kill without a second thought if deemed necessary.
The odd thing was she didn't fit with any of the archtypes. No glyphs on her clothes, and no armor, but she carried a katana and a wakizashi which was more steel than a mage would carry. She stuck out in a way that would negate any chance at being an assassin unless she was going for the honeypot route. While she was beautiful enough, beyond beautiful in fact, that didn't seem likely. Spy was possible, but if so she was going to be playing a high level game. She was certainly overdressed for the role she'd need today.
She also didn't have the proper air about her to be a spy. Spies should put you at ease; make you feel like you could talk to her like she was your best friend. Alisha's first impression was to avoid her. There was something about her, even from this distance, that wordlessly said no one's company was good enough for her.
Alisha was willing to bet she bought her way into the academy, or her family more likely. She was probably going to be useless in a fight then. That would probably explain why she didn't fit anywhere.
The doors at last opened and her assessment of the money girl's skill changed instantly. She flowed forward, smoother than any dancer she'd ever seen. That fluidity wasn't something that came naturally. It was from training. More training than anyone in New Tucson had ever known.
Unconsciously she found herself leaving her path and noted that the other students were doing the same. No, she was definitely not a spy or assassin. She was either an overly armed Mage or an under protected soldier. Maybe both? Those were rare.
Her heads up display said she was Sato Yukiko. That didn't really tell her who she was, just her name. "Hey, who's the snob?" she asked one of the students who had bowed to the nearly perfect woman with reverence, hoping for more information on her.
A sharp look told her the 'snob' part of her question might have earned her a new enemy. "Yukiko Sato, heiress of the Sato Conglomerate."
Yup, definitely a rich bitch then, and she was going to have people hanging onto her coat tails (robe tails?) hoping to curry any kind of favor. Sato, or Yukiko, or whatever she went by, was probably going to eat up that attention.
Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Carole following Yukiko and a feeling of dread instantly went down her spine. Nothing good was going to come of this.
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