8 Trials Deep

CHAPTER 1: DESPERATE TIMES BREED DESPERATE MEASURES

RF-13 surveyed his bunk with a neutral expression. The bed was made immaculate, magnetized boots polished till they shone, his uniforms hanged or neatly folded in the locker.

No, they were no longer his.

He was leaving.

Once he leaves, the service automatons would come sweeping in to clear all traces of a personality in the room. He had surrendered his laser pistol, flight suit, energy shield and uninterrupted communicator together with his weapons carrier. All custom-made gears would be disposed; even so he would not be taking any with him. He also had the access chip extracted from his hand, on the outside world he had no need of it.

He turned to opaque glass wall and uttered a command in a clear steady voice, “Terminate AFA account, log wipeout.”

A beeping mechanical sound rang in the room and the glass shifted from opaque to seemingly transparent. It showed a white room with a stylish and dignified woman impeccably dressed in military uniform. She looked like she was standing behind the glass, but she was actually merely a projection of his virtual computer connected in the room. A detached female voice cut the air like a cold knife, “Transaction attempt is irreversible, does RF-13 confirm command?”

They young man paused for a fraction of a second before closing his eyes.

“Confirmed.”

In just a few minutes his military upgrades when he entered the Armed Forces Academy were rolled back, all personal files that had been his were wiped clean from the academy’s records. All, except probably a file that noted he applied for voluntarily discharge from the program. It was hard gaining approval but when he cited psychological incapacity to graduate, the higher-ups looked at him coldly before finally giving their silent assent.

The virtual lady stepped forward, as if trying to get closer to where he was standing.

“Goodbye, cadet RF-13,” she saluted.

“Goodbye,” came the reply, the young man still had his eyes closed. The glass display washed out of any image becoming once again an opaque wall.

A moment passed before he walked out of the room with only a handheld case. He used to think that he would be walking out of the academy with a future and a rank but just days before the graduation rights he received a communication from his frantic sister. His step-father was neck-deep in debts and an underground syndicate was after him. The latter was planning to trade his younger sister into the Bonds System.

Remembering their previous conversation, RF-13 felt the rising of morbid emotions. Like a snake slowly creeping from the dark, it felt cold and unwanted. But it was there.

RF-13 had always thought the Bonds System was nothing but a camouflage for the misshapen desires of society for superiority – slavery. The Alliance had long tried to suppress it, but when restricted, the trade went underground. It persisted for centuries until a certain monarch, goaded by powerful figures moved to legalize it. It became a luxury that only the rich and the powerful could afford, a status symbol. Now it was a glamorized ladder for those on the lower classes to climb up a class or two.

The disparity between the classes of society brought isolating changes with it. The upper class passed a bill to distinguish societal status with a naming system.

The royals, the rich and the powerful were the only ones who were allowed to own a name without numbers. Below them were the Armed Forces whose name would start with F followed by one or more numbers. Next came the Reserved Force, like him, their names started with the initials 'RF'. It was followed by 'A' for the Administration, people who worked under the monarchy. 'M' stood for merchants.

RF-13 felt this name system made one feel more like an object rather than a sentient being. Since this only applied in the Regiis territory, it was the reason why Regiis citizens were recognizable by their names when traveling outside other Alliance territories.

Recalling these details, he realized he would have to go to the Citizen Tracking Bureau. He would no longer be an RF. He would be a C, belonging to the commons.

C-13? Not bad. At least it’s not a mouthful as RF-13 is, the young man thought to himself.

Even so, he would never allow his sister to be a bond with a name that started with an initial of B.

Never. She was too young, too kind, too naïve.

As he passed the academy grounds, RF-13 looked back once more at the field, several cadets were practicing flight formations on the sky above.

He had almost reached the security boundary of the military institute when he heard several shouting voices followed by the increasingly deafening noise of an engine. A fighter aircraft had suddenly pitched down and went into a dive, clearly breaking the routine formation.

RF-13 turned to see the aircraft rapidly streaking down towards him, as if aiming to crash itself on the ground he was standing on.

The spectators who witnessed the sudden deviation of the aircraft were aghast to see a young man standing his ground despite clearly seeing the airliner about to crash on him. However when it was almost 10 feet from crashing, the jet stabilized with a violent jolt, drawing parallel to the ground. Its body hovered right above RF-13. The pilot shifted the engine to standby and opened the cockpit. He glared at the figure on the ground.

This person still had that perpetual half-smile etched on his face. It made the already high-strung pilot more agitated. The pilot jumped of the hovering aircraft and propelled himself towards RF-13, blade out.

RF-13 threw the metal-covered case in front of him just in time to block the attack. Then he aimed a kick to the stomach at his ‘opponent'. The kick succeeded in throwing the other a few meters off. Silver gleamed on RF-13’s hands as he pursued the pilot with several slashes but like a gymnast, the pilot nimbly somersaulted in the air and moved out of reach, graceful as a cat. But just as the pilot landed on his feet he heard the familiar whirring sound of a laser pistol activating. RF-06 sighed and raised his hand in surrender. RF-13 was pointing at him with a laser pistol.

“Done venting your tantrum?” RF-13 asked, still not lowering the weapon.

“A little,” the other replied. “It’s not a tantrum.”

“Yeah? Repeat that to yourself once you begin serving discipline for breaking off flight formations,” RF-13 smirked. RF-06 froze, as if having just realized the matter.

“You acted on impulse before you thought of the consequences, mate. That is the adult version of a tantrum.” RF-13 deactivated the device on his hand before throwing it to the young man. “You can’t stop me.”

The other caught the weapon, giving it a closer look. It was his pistol. RF-13 slipped it off his belt the first instance they collided.

“It was worth a try.”

“Glad you think so,” RF-13 looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re going to be serving it out under Morret, you know.”

RF-06’s face positively turned green. Just thinking of the drill master’s expressionless ‘jarface’ made him grow goose bumps all over his arms.

Seeing his buddy’s reaction, RF-13 let out a light laugh. “He might make you do the full course together with anybody he can get his hands on, poor bloke. He’s upset about me dropping out.” Rf-13 recalled the drill master trying to stop him from submitting his discharge request.

“Of course, he is.” RF-06 looked at him bitterly. “Everybody is. Just weeks before our final graduation rights and you up and went to the higher-ups requesting for a discharge. Have you gone haywire mate?”

RF-06 resentment once again spilled into his words. RF-13, his fellow cadets and him had been together through thick and thin these last four years. They had survived the grueling academy discipline, broken out into the cadet culture, broke a few rules and served discipline under Morret and were almost graduating in a few weeks. Almost. Then all of a sudden RF-13 announced that he was quitting.

“Perhaps,” RF-13 replied lightly.

“Hey, if you’re not going to tell me why you’re quitting, tell me this: Why did you never claim first rank?” This point had always bothered him. RF-13 was, by a large margin, better than him in a lot of ways. He was way more competent and skilled, in practice and in theory. However, RF-13 had always managed to rank second. This had persisted for several semesters before RF-06 realized that RF-13 was doing it intentionally.

To test out his hypothesis, RF-06 tried to down-grade his performance to be just below that of RF-13. But RF-13 seemed to have seen through the ruse and out-maneuvered him. In the end, he was still first and RF-13 second. It seemed like the only ones competing for the first rank in their year was him and the third placer. RF-13 had always managed to hold second to the point that people started calling him ‘2nd Constant’.

When RF-13 saw that RF-06 was determined to get the answers he wanted, like a tenacious Manchester Terrier. He gave in.

“You never really got over this one did you? Fine, I’ll tell you,” RF-13 had a mischievous smile as he replied. “Being second ensures the perks and privileges of being on top with half the pressure, responsibilities and expectations demanded from the first.”

RF-06 could not believe his ears and the young man in front of him.

What a stupid and frivolous reason, it made sense.

“While you were sweating under the eyes and supervision of everyone, I was free to move as I wished. And yet when I needed to speak or get things done, people listened because I was second best. While people expected the first to get things done at first try, it was alright for the second to fail every now and then. Being second puts me on top but away from the glare and heat of the spotlight,” RF-13 continued nonchalantly.

“It was simply a tactical evasive strategy,” RF-13 gave him a light pat on the shoulder and picked up the thrown handheld case off the ground. “See you around, buddy.”

RF-06 was left looking at the leaving figure’s back. Not long after, RF-13 reached the security border. The sentinels silently performed their routine inspection before letting him pass. The security of the academy was tight, whether going in or out, everybody went through thorough inspection.

The guards on duty looked at the young man as he left the grounds, regretful. The former cadet had once been a handful, what with the occasional escape attempts from camp. But he was, they were sure, brilliant. His escape methods were ingenious and always new. They were doubtful they had caught him as half as many times as he had attempted breakout. He had probably slipped in and out of the academy undetected more than they could tell.

He was like a dog locked on a kennel away from his family. He probably was. When the chief guard had his occasional rendezvous investigated, they found out he always met with his older or younger sister. He was giving them trade-currencies, money. He probably earned it by selling off privileges, provisions or food to his fellow cadets. While the other cadets were struggling to keep up with the demands of the academy, this cadet was juggling it together with raising a family.

When the officials learned it, they were left speechless. Selling or trading privileges or provisions between cadets were not illegal, as long as the materials were not contraband. If a cadet traded off the privilege of unrestricted access to the gaming or simulation chamber, that was his decision. He earned it, it was his freedom to trade it. Being resourceful was an admirable characteristic in a future officer. Nevertheless, he still had to serve discipline duty for every time he was caught sneaking off.

Now they were stuck with the usual, predictable, old-school, unentertaining escape attempts by cadets whose tricks they’ve seen a thousand times. If they were not already feeling bored, they were pretty sure old Morret was.