1.1 |
“Perps turned east, seven streets down. They’re slowing down.”
“Copy,” Camus said.
Nestra had no idea how he could keep talking. All she could do was gulp cold night air and pump her tired legs on the warm asphalt, one foot after the other and again, hoping she would last. MaxSec armor had never been designed for running. Not like keeping up with mana users on foot was reasonable to begin with.
The squad had lost them some time ago when the two shapes disappeared behind a concrete corner of the tired hab block. Only the drones would keep up until they ran out of batteries or the users managed to find a hiding hole. Nestra looked up past the drab gray walls and the tired concrete, towards the shining arc of the outer highway and then the imposing black band of Threshold City’s massive kaiju wall, like a collar of darkness. The sight allowed her to center herself. Distract her from the exhaustion.
“They’ve stopped near a closed portal gate. E6-105. Small one,” Stib’s voice whispered in her ears.
“Gate status,” Camus asked.
The tall fucker didn’t even sound winded. It was all Nestra could do not to collapse. Meanwhile, drone operator Stibbons must have been pulling files because she sounded distracted.
“Hmmm. Permanent portal gate, closed for now. Monster generation on a nine day cycle, three days of purge time before they escape. Not many resources listed, mostly mana crystals. It was pacified over a week ago by North Star Security, the owner. Oh. They’re trying to wake it up.”
“Can they survive in there?”
Camus swore into his beard. Nestra thought it was stupid. It didn’t matter if the two thief users could use it or not. They clearly thought they could or they wouldn’t be feeding it mana to wake up early.
“Least,” Bard croaked, “least they’ll be tired.”
Nobody stated the obvious. So would they. And mana users didn’t leave baseline humans the opportunity to recover from a mistake. Nestra’s grip tightened on her standard issue pacifier. If the users were low D-class, the squad could probably manage. If they were in the higher ranges then…
Had to die sometime. Might as well be tonight.
“Where are our fucking reinforcements?” Bard panted.
Camus signaled and everyone came to a halt. Nestra put her fist on her knees and breathed all she could and fuck the decorum. They already looked like a militia anyway with patched up gear and surplus shit. And it wasn’t like the users would take them seriously anyway.
“Alright. Stib, they’re really opening that gate?”
“Trying. Might take a while. Not sure why though.”
Camus grunted in answer. Nestra sighed. It was obvious.
“They’ll go through and find a place to hunker down since us baselines can’t follow them in,” she explained. “We’ll have no choice but to wait around or have our own mana users go after them. They’re hoping to leave in a day or so, after we’re gone.”
“That’s just stupid,” Bard replied. “Why not take us out now? Then they can disappear in the district before the augs show up.”
His voice always felt so grating, always with the laid back surfer persona. Always whining about everything.
“TPD is overstretched. They know that. They don’t know there’s only the four of us on their trail right now though. Besides, it doesn't matter. They’re charging the gate. Either we try stopping them, or we don’t.”
“Someone changed our orders while my back was turned?”
Camus’ black gaze was fixed on Nestra. She shrugged. Only the faintest dark skin could be seen around the giant’s bloodshot eyes. The rest was covered in nylon, kevlar, and ceramics. Probably older than he was. Nestra sustained the gaze. He was being a pissant.
“Any chance for borgs?” Park interrupted.
The last and most quiet member of the team deflated the tension as he often did.
“Call them augmented humans, or augs at least for Riel’s sake. And not now. We’re it. As I said earlier. Now, Stib, show us the map around that portal.”
“Sure thing boss.”
The squad used a diverse assortment of ancient helmet visors to read the 3D map.
It was a standard abandoned hab bloc near the wall, population swallowed by one of the arcologies at least a decade before. The portal opened on a small courtyard surrounded by shuttered small businesses. Nestra was starting to agree with Bard. Those users were morons. Place was far too open. Any augs around would have spotted them from the sky while only baselines would miss the mana vomited by the open portal. Much better to run and hope for the best.
“I got an ID on one of them. The one who removed his mask. Jason Wong, D-class, a record as long as my arm but only small stuff. Oh, and the item they stole is inert. Confirmed by the vics.”
“You sure?”
“Lenses used in surgery robots. Not enchanted.”
“Right, here is what we’ll do. Bard and Nes take the front and wait for my signal. Park and I move to the side, then on my mark, you start apprehending. We move in while they look at you. Weapons free. Don’t hesitate.”
Nestra caressed the hilt of her stun ‘baton’. The tool was custom-made, one of the gifts from her aunt Claire. The habit soothed her nerves. It wasn’t dying that worried her. It was the pain.
She watched Park and Camus run to a side alley. Bard turned to her. She could see his amusement in the way his shoulder moved, as if he was containing a laugh.
“So, Palladian. Wanna be the negotiator? Every time I talk it seems to piss off the perps.”
“For the last fucking time, use my call sign when we’re on the field. And you piss off everybody, not just the perps. Because you’re a cunt.”
“How smooth, darling. You talk to them then.”
“Stib here, goons,” Nestra’s earpiece said. “With the footage of our perps. Sending the feed now.”
A window opened on Nestra’s visor. It was placed on the upper right corner so as not to impede her vision. It showed a deserted hab square littered with junk. Boarded up businesses lined it on every side, dead neon signs hanging limply from rusting supports. Stairs led up to the living quarters in a uniform gray color of unpainted concrete. Typical of quick jobs from just after the gates opened and survival became the highest priority.
The only colors came from fading graffitis promoting long-dead gangs: two men standing before an empty arch, one facing it with arms extended while the other fiddled with a control panel linked to the arch by a pair of heavy duty cables. Nestra noted that the controls were ancient. Resilient stuff made at the beginning of the incursion. Rich guilds used holographic interfaces nowadays.
It was clear the one at the panel had no idea what he was doing. He had also discarded his face covering, a basic bandana, to reveal the handsome face of an Asian man with slick black hair and a frantic expression. His eyes shone with the inner light typical of low gleams. Jason Wong. By contrast, the other perp wore a plastic or ceramic white mask with fox features. His outfit was close-fitting, his boots made to run. As she watched, a blue light flickered in the center of the arch.
“Looks like the portal’s activating,” she said.
“Almost in position,” Camus said. “Ok, in position. Start the approach.”
“Ladies first,” Bard said with a smile.
Nestra took the lead. Her heart did its best to escape her ribs with every step that brought her closer to the pair of users. She felt excitement as well, for a good fight. Envy. Mostly, she felt envy. It bit at her chest with the cold acid of what ifs.
Soon, she was in one of the narrow corridors leading to the portal space.
Wong faced them while Fox Mask ignored their presence.
“This is TPD. You are surrounded. Our users are on the way. Surrender now and do everyone a favor.”
“I don’t think so,” Wong said. “You say gleam pigs are on the way. I say you’re lying.”
He sounded defiant and angry. A dangerous combination. Also meant he would be easier to distract. Fox Mask was an enigma though. He was still focused on the gate.
“Look, Wong, we’ve IDed you. It’s over one way or the other. Right now you’re just in for theft and fleeing and eluding. Nothing too serious. Just surrender, Jason, before it gets out of hand. Come on. You’re a gleam. You’ll get a slap on the wrist,” she replied, pointing at the heavy case leaning against the console Wong had been fiddling with.
That was the stolen property, still intact apparently.
“Slap on the wrist? Easy for you to say. You won’t be sent to a dangerous gate risking life and limb every day! And for what? To feed the corporations! We’re just cogs in the machine, man. It’s all about the opium of the masses and the profits of the few. But not me! And I’m not bowing to sheltered dogs of the government.”
Nestra gripped her baton so hard it hurt. One of those. She hated his type with a burning passion. Had to keep it together though.
“Not feeling like a sheltered dog right now, Jason. I’m actually tired and in pain. Look, you are a gleam, ok? You can enter a portal and make five times as much as I do carrying minerals through mining gates three days a week. We’re all cogs of society, you dolt. You wanna do something about it? Run raids for charities! Do politics, whatever. But here you are instead, committing theft, and not like, of food or anything vital.”
Of course, Nestra’s words set the gleam off. A part of her knew it would. She just didn’t care anymore.
“Bullshit, you’re so naive. It’s all rigged at the top, don’t you see? Corpos and the mayor working together to keep us all down, man, manufacturing content and everything! Just so we serve the masses instead of a worthy cause.”
“Oh, you think you serve the masses? Really? You see those arcologies behind me? Owned by high gleams. Top scientists? Gleams! Traders? That’s right, fuckface, no instant trading unless you got a mana signature. You are the least fucked out of all of us, and instead of doing something, you rant against the government while stealing fucking glasses like some bargain bin terrorist. Holy shit, I’ve never met a worse loser than you.”
“Hmm, Palladian. Calm down?” Bard said.
The hypocrite was having fun and they both knew it. Nestra didn’t give a shit. It felt good to let out the bottled anger, feel the poisoned relief course through her veins, knowing she might pay for it later. She pulled her lips back into a rictus only she could feel. Jason Wong’s face was a fury-wracked scowl. It felt good to reach him like that.
“YOU BITCH!”
“Stop that,” Fox Mask said, and to Nestra’s surprise, that was a female voice.
“I’m not going to stand there while these dregs—”
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“They’re nobodies. TPD baselines without a single combat augment between themselves. They’re baiting you. Come and help me,” Fox Mask said, and there was a strain in her voice.
“You know what? You don’t give me orders! I’m not anyone’s tool.”
Electricity crackled down Wong’s hand, gathering in his fist.
“Wong’s a buzzer,” Nestra said.
Her anger fell down the drain while the cold grasp of fear settled in her stomach.
“Wasn’t in the file,” Stib grumbled.
Wong extended a finger towards Nestra, who brandished her baton. A bolt surged from there, much slower than true electricity. Moreover, it missed Nestra completely.
Bard received the bolt on a heavy gauntlet as it spiked towards him. Energy traveled along an inner circuit of his armor, then to the ground. There was a fizzle near his knee and he winced when the electric mana bit through tattered insulation. Piece of shit gear.
Wong charged.
Nestra received another bolt on her blade which she had planted on the ground, dissipating the mana. Bard opened fire on the thug but he moved quickly, escaping most shots. The remaining bullets barely slowed him down though he grunted in pain. Nestra received a very obvious haymaker on her blade.
Strong.
She was pushed back and rolled to absorb the shock. Still felt it in her bones through the absorbing foam, the pain making her teeth click together. It was like being hit by a slow truck. She was back on her feet in an instant anyway.
Bard managed to land a hook on Wong while his back was turned, hitting the gut. Wong barely flinched. His riposte sent the much taller Bard smashing against the wall. Nestra was up. A turn of a button and her baton extended, becoming as long as a claymore. She caught Wong in the forehead with a perfect thrust. A hundred thousand volts made him scream and fall but he was up in the same second. Electrokinetic. Natural resistance. Nestra cursed her luck.
A flurry of strikes kept Wong at bay until she made the mistake of actually hitting him. His look of triumph when he realized she had no energy left sent a shiver down her spine. He caught her blade with ease and sent it tumbling but a barrage of bullets forced him back. Bard had recovered. Behind, Park and Camus were shooting at an unmoving Fox Mask. The bullets pinged on a shield.
Bard fell back, shooting short bursts. The bullets left black bruises on an increasingly annoyed Wong. Nestra wished they’d pack lethal stuff. Their foe charged and grabbed Nestra’s baton once again.
It had finished cycling.
Wong screamed when the second thunderous discharge coursed his body from hand to toe. He fell to his knees. Nestra’s perfect swing caught him right in the temple.
Wong fell ponderously. Bard was on him a moment later, putting manacles on.
“Riel almighty that was hard,” Bard swore.
“Gotta help the others.”
They looked up in time to see… no one.
“Huh?”
Park’s body crashed against a nearby dumpster. His leg was at a bad angle. A very bad one.
“Officer down!” Stib yelled.
“Shit!”
“He’s alive but Camus needs help. Left. Go, now!”
The pair raced forward. Stib’s feed appeared on Nestra’s visor, showing Camus calmly moving back while shooting the approaching form of Fox Mask. The user didn’t seem worried. She was taking her time.
“Rubber bullets against users? Budget cuts are worse than I thought,” she drily noted.
Nestra gritted her teeth. They wouldn’t be on time. Fox Mask charged and disarmed Camus after a short exchange despite the tall man using a knife. Fox Mask had her own blade but she didn’t use it, content to gut punch him with the hilt. Even through the MaxSec armor, the impact left the colossus prostrated. She really knew how to fight.
Definitely not a low D-class gleam.
A crawling dread cimbled up Nestra’s spine when she finally realized that they didn’t really have anything to take Fox Mask down.
They couldn’t defeat her.
That was it, really.
It could only go one way from now on.
Bard was next to fall. Fox Mask ran him down and grabbed his gun, emptying the entire magazine against his armor then kicking him down the nearby steps. Nestra was left with her baton held in front of her. The portal flickered behind her. She felt more than heard it.
“Oh? A fellow practitioner? Well, of course then. Please.”
Fox Mask saluted. Nestra retracted the blade and held her baton like a foil. Speed would matter.
They fought.
Fox Mask used her short blade like a saber. It was clear she was used to a longer blade. It was also clear that she was slowing herself down a lot. It didn’t help.
“Reinforcements will be here soon, Nes! Hold on!” Stib said as if it would make a difference.
Holding on was all Nestra could do in the first place. Finally, her weapon finished cycling. She pressed the button as Fox Mask parried. The saber’s surface crackled, electricity sliding over mana.
“I coated my blade, of course,” Fox Mask said conversationally.
A jab caught Nestra in the ribs, stealing her breath through the armor. She couldn’t scream. She could only gasp and gulp air in her abused lungs as fast as she could. Fox Mask still stood there, short blade resting on her shoulder. This hadn’t even been a serious hit. There was no blood. Fox Mask had specifically used a coating to dull her weapon. She was doing her best not to hurt Nestra too much.
That stung more than the blow to her chest.
“Looks like it’s time,” Fox Mask whispered.
Something changed. Perfect cerulean light suddenly bathed the trash alley, then a low hum like a distant choir, the smell of the sea and fresh air fought off the drab reality, pushing off the stale gloom of the abandoned block. That wasn’t the best part though.
The best part was the mana.
Nestra’s pain faded. The constant aching in her bones dulled to a whisper. Energy washed away her exhaustion, flooding her limbs with renewed energy and a desire to move. To use that strength. More importantly, she felt complete.
At peace.
Whole.
The portal was open.
“I will be going now,” Fox Mask said.
She deflected the casual blow meant to push her off, countered. Her blade danced and sang with speed. Fox Mask blocked and backpedaled.
“Wha—”
Nestra caught her off guard. Nestra pressed the advantage in a flurry of thrusts her foe deflected with some effort. Unfortunately, that was just stolen mana. Fox Mask… was the real deal. She parried and attacked in turn, ever faster. It was Nestra’s turn to fall back.
A hand against her shoulder. She was airborne. She was on the ground. Her shoulder hit a brick.
“Oof.”
Fox Mask stood just as calm as she had always been. Still taking it easy. Sirens blared in the distance. Fox Mask looked up, revealing a triangle of tan skin and a hint of black curls. She returned her gaze to Nestra. Dark iris like pits in the middle of that white ceramic fixed on the prone officer.
“Guess you can have it then. As a gesture of my appreciation.”
Fox Mask walked through the portal’s aperture without her stolen prize, disappearing as smoothly as through the surface of a lake. A ripple agitated the calm blue surface.
Nestra sat back up, winced, then decided to wait.
***
Flashing lights and cheap coffee. Groups of vigils milling around in groups of three, doing fuckall. Nestra took a sip of tea. Too strong. Tepid.
What little mana she’d absorbed was gone now, dissipated into the air. She felt cranky. Her forearm and ribs hurt like a bitch. The medic by her side finished waving an old piece of tech around her body. It beeped. She didn’t know the guy. Not interested in small talk.
“Bruising, mostly. You’ll be fine. Regen capsule and a pain killer.”
“I got some at home.”
“Good, then…”
“How’s Park?”
The medic sighed and leaned back with his hands on his waist. Something cracked. He sighed, more relief than contentment.
“Fractured tibia and humerus. Bad. He’s out for at least a month with healer care. Camus has a broken rib. You guys got it easy.”
“What do you mean?”
Anxiety chased away the gloom.
“Beta squad got in a scrap with gangers. Hmm. Regis is dead. Sorry.”
Fuck.
“And district fifteen is rioting. All our users are there right now. The unrest is bleeding through.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Nestra was fed up hearing about district fifteen, especially because a couple of high gleams could have solved the problem in ten minutes two months ago and now it was like a festering wound of crime and trafficking. She didn’t know Regis very well but he’d always been tolerable. Polite, supportive. A great teammate. Why couldn’t they have killed Gorge instead? There was no justice in this world.
Fuck.
The medic felt the mood and left, looking for someone else to help. Nestra just stayed there, not sure what to do. They’d given her a cover made of weird metal but she was still getting cold.
“Drive you home?”
Nestra looked up. Stib was offering a hand which she gratefully took. Stib was smiling but it was only skin deep. Brittle. Her eyes were red. She’d been crying.
The tiny woman hoisted Nestra to her feet. The darkness made her boyish with her sharp face and tiny frame, hair cut short under a cap. Despite that, her grip was firm.
“Thanks. You heard?” Nestra asked.
“Yeah, I… Yeah.”
The two made it to the squad vehicle. It was meant to carry eight people, a blocky, armored transport designed to carry a squad in and out safely. It had been top of the line thirty years ago. Now, any mana-powered guilder left it in the dust, a C-class gleam could punch a hole through it, and a B-class could fold it like a fucking paper crane. Budget cuts meant they no longer had a dedicated driver, or a medic, or a dedicated mechanic for that matter. The squad had been cut from six to five and Lance was still in the hospital. Nestra slammed the passenger door shut. The hinges creaked ominously. Inside, it smelled of synth leather and old sweat. There were old blood stains on the upholstery that predated Nestra’s entire career.
Stib pulled out. The engine roared like a chimera but the truck moved like a slime. The streets were empty save for transients roasting surprise meat over barrel fires, watching them pass by with the hollow eyes of tracked beasts. The ramp up the wall ring pushed their old rustbolt to its limits. Stib immediately stuck to the slow lane while corpo cars and convoys raced by.
“So, Nestra.”
“Siobhan. Are we having the talk again?”
“Yeah. I guess we are. I mean, after tonight…”
There was an awkward silence. Nestra didn’t know how to handle it anymore. Siobhan Stibbons entered that rare category she considered as friend. It meant that when Siobhan talked, she listened. Even though they’d had the same conversation plenty of times. Except… this time it was different. The two remaining squads were mangled. Nestra knew they’d crossed a point of no return.
“Yeah,” she finally whispered.
“You’ll consider quitting then?”
“I mean. Not right away but… I don’t think we’ll have a choice. Short term. Tomorrow we’ll get gleams and city admins on our asses and they’ll ask questions and there’ll be no good answers. It doesn’t even make me mad anymore. It is what it is.”
“Yeah. I’ve talked to my parents. They want me out too.”
Nestra laughed at that.
“What? Old man Stibbons, the career copper?”
“Ha ha. Yeah. I guess mom has been working him to the bone. They want me to transfer to Blue River as a drone operator, earthside.”
“A guild? Must be freezing in hell.”
“Blue River is made of ex-cops. Their gleams exclusively raid while us ‘crunchies’ handle the day-to-day stuff. I’d be carrying crates of material from portals to warehouses and the like. Cozy job, few risks. They said I could even pilot a hovercraft.”
“Must be nice.”
“Look, once I’m there, maybe I can get a word in. You’re not really family but you’re close enough by now.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it.”
“I know but you know what they’ll ask. I can’t borg up.”
Siobhan mechanically touched the silvery plate on her neck where the mind jack was installed. It was non-invasive as far as cybernetic augmentations went but it was still more than Nestra could handle. She felt like an asshole, never explaining to the shorter girl what the deal was. She was being a shit friend.
“Look I’ve not told you the exact deal before because it’s, well, painful. Annoying.”
“Guess you had to explain many times before, right?”
“Understatement of the decade.”
“I get it. If you feel like sharing now… Otherwise…”
Nestra realized she didn’t mind. The scar had fully formed now. She’d grieved enough for this life.
“Thank you. For being understanding. And it’s fine. Look, thing is, I got almost all the pieces to make a proper user. I got a mana structure. I have high mana capacity though that doesn’t even make sense. Riel, I probably even got affinities.”
“Affinities plural?”
“Lightning for sure, ice maybe. From the advanced testing. That’s the thing. People with mana structures become crazy if you borg them. That’s a fact of life. Maybe quirkies can get away with it if they don’t cut the body part that hosts the mana structure, but even D-class get bonkers, and I got the D-class package. It’s just not working.”
“Got it. I’ll still ask. Maybe there is a way. Unless you got a project lined up?”
“My contract is due in seven months. If they don’t shut us down before, I’ll move then. The idea was, well, I can probably be an assistant. I’m not going to like it but at least they pay well. And I can get away with external systems instead of a mind jack like you have. My aunt Claire offered it.”
“The one who gave you the apartment?”
“Yes. I’m forcing her to accept rent, or at least mortgage but…”
They stopped for a while to watch a long, train-like convoy race past them. It was entirely black and sported the TDF logo. Probably wall supplies and ammo.
“She’s probably saving it all in a rainy day fund?” Siobhan continued.
“How do you know?”
“My grandma did the same. Anyway, she got you a job?”
“She offered. If she did, it means she’ll find one. I won’t enjoy being reminded of what I’m not and they won’t like remembering that I can happen to their kids but…it’s probably doable. And much better than becoming a barista. I wouldn’t do well in the service industry. I don’t have transferable skills.”
“And you have a shit attitude.”
Nestra chuckled. It was true.
“That too. And, you know, they don’t ever get near portals.”
At that, Siobhan fell silent. Nestra knew why. Some of her family had a history with alcoholism and Nestra’s issue was too close for comfort.
“Yeah. About that. Is it like… an addiction?”
Nestra chuckled once again. Little Siobhan was daring tonight.
“I don’t know. I just know that if I haven’t been near a portal in a while I feel like shit and as long as I get close, it’s like… feeling alive again. Fully functional. If it’s an addiction then I’ve had it since I was a young adult.”
“What did Mazingwe say?”
“Same as before. My case is so rare that nobody cares about it. It’s not profitable to fix it.”
“You parents…”
“Got me to the best healers. Even Shinran.”
“Wait. You met Threshold’s Guardian? Our Shinran?”
“Yep. They all said the same thing. There is nothing wrong with me. I’m exactly what I was born to be.”
“Well, shit.”
“Indeed. Nothing to fix. I made a request to have weekly access to active portals. The answer must come soon. If the city government doesn’t say yes then maybe a guild will. That’s why a raider’s personal assistant would be perfect. I mean, getting close to portals would be part of the job.”
“Yeah. I hope it works.”
Nestra didn’t reply. It wouldn’t work. It had gotten worse over the years. She needed more mana to fill the pit of hunger deep within her every time and every time, it lasted less time. Just like Siobhan said, just like an addiction, one that no one knew how to fix. Maybe some portal item… Maybe.
Had to keep hoping.
***
It was the same dream. Nestra watched from above the innocent, young version of herself. That one had white gold hair curled in great loops as was the fashion at that time, not the listless dark blonde mop. That one had lustrous skin, not a gaunt mask marked by tiny scars. That one had bright eyes, gray edging on silver as if on the cusp of awakening, the only thing the current Nestra had kept. That one wore a uniform from the prestigious Threshold Preparatory School at over twelve thousand credits a set. The current Nestra earned a fourth of that every month, hazard pay included. That one walked blithely to the analysis chair like the little shit full of hope she was. Positively vibrating. A kind-looking woman with a teal gleam in her eyes welcomed her with matronly attention.
“Miss Palladian, welcome. Are you ready?”
“Ready and eager, ma’am.”
“Haha, feel free to call me Miss Daendra. Hop in!”
That Nestra climbed and closed her eyes. The room had no windows. It was all white tiles suffused with a warm glow. An observation deck overhead hid the complex machinery and control panel required to make it work. That Nestra studiously ignored it. She knew her mom was there. And a few teachers. She had to look cool about it.
Mana flooded her body. A pressure on her mind invited her deeper in. She followed it. It was like being submerged in water. Weightless, relaxed. That Nestra dove until she found herself in a luxurious, well-lit reception room. There were doors to the side but she knew without trying that those were locked tight.
“Right, we are about to send a mana burst to help you find your core representation. You might also see the affinity you have based on the color so keep your metaphorical eyes open!”
“I hope it’s ice!”
“Hoho, well we have a betting pool about that. Sending the burst now. Follow it to your core.”
Light filled the reception room. Great arcs of power traced through the air like aurorae. It was beautiful for as long as it lasted.
“Miss Palladian, are you in the room?” Dean Daendra asked in a more subdued voice.
“Ye… yes.”
“Could you please make contact with your core? We cannot seem to get a lock on it.”
“I am in the room but I do not see the core. Mana just disperses in the air.”
“No retention?” a voice said in a way that hinted she was not supposed to hear. “None at all? That can’t be right. Children of users are always users. Look, no, the likelihood is less than one in a million and the few recorded cases lack her structure. That can’t be it. Sorry, sweetie, we’re just having some trouble. Hold on there, okay?”
“Okay.”
That Nestra held on through the hours of testing, through the general consternation, the hasty meetings, right to the point when the car bringing her home left the school’s garden through the small door. After that she cried a lot. The school reimbursed her tuition and the uniform with their apologies. It didn’t help.
No core.
A freak anomaly.