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The alarm shut off. In the sudden dense silence Nellie slid, dribbled, half-fainted her way from the dresser to the floor. Never again was she going to get into an argument with her roommate. Never again would she raise her voice. No, she would be as long-suffering and generous as the Goddess, overlooking all snooty bitchy ...

“What happened here?” asked the first man, slipping the Flesh Healer into his belt.

“I dunno.” Still a bit wobbly, Nellie leaned against her dresser. “She was fine, and then she just ... fell over.”

The man glanced pointedly at the broken glass, then back at her.

“It’s true,” Nellie protested. “I didn’t touch her.” How was she supposed to explain the sensation of rage that had lifted clean and
clear from the back of her head, then shot directly toward Tana? And the way Tana had stumbled back as if physically shoved, before crumpling to the floor?

“I saw it happen on the monitor,” Duikstra said crisply, giving the man a meaningful look. “Code 59F. Just leave it.”

The man’s eyebrows went up and he glanced at Nellie. “Gotcha,” he said, then turned back to Tana. “What d’you think?” he asked the other man.

“Her vital signs are steady,” the second man replied. “We’ll take her down to the clinic for observation until she comes to.” Turning to Duikstra, he asked. “Have you got a stretcher?”

With a nod, Duikstra left the room. For a moment the two men and Nellie stood as if in limbo, staring at Tana’s unconscious body, while the alarm beeped faintly overhead. Then Duikstra wheeled a stretcher through the doorway and the men lifted Tana onto it. Still stunned, Nellie walked to the end of the barricade and watched the men roll the stretcher out of the room.

At the last minute, one of the men turned to face her. “Code MK10,” he said, tapping the center of his forehead. “File it.”

Dully Nellie stared at him, her brain on overload and unable to process his command.

“Cabinet fifty-two,” added Duikstra, stepping around him and thrusting her thin face into Nellie’s. “Drawer one, file one. Now.”

Nellie’s eyes glazed, and she stood blinking as filing cabinet fiftytwo surfaced into her mind and the memory of what had happened disappeared into it. Then the usual sinking sensation occurred as the cabinet vanished. When her head cleared, Nellie found herself staring at an empty doorway, alone in her room.

Briefly, Duikstra’s head appeared in the doorway. “Your room is a shambles, cadet,” she snapped. “Five minutes to clean it, or there’ll be a pejorative on your file.”

As the dorm mother’s head withdrew, Nellie turned to look at the room. Duikstra was right — it was a shambles. The barricade
had been pushed every which way, and one of the dresser mirrors was lying smashed on the floor. Textbooks, hairbrushes and containers of deodorant were scattered everywhere. What in the name of the Goddess had happened here? Was this one of Lierin’s jokes? Or had Tana suddenly and completely lost track of her senses?

One thing was for certain — no one, but no one, was going to bother explaining it. In Advanced, things just happened, you survived the chaos, cleaned up after it and got on with the next item on the agenda. There was no sense in complaining, it would only bring another pejorative and that would mean missing the next Street Games. And Street Games and maze runs were the only highs in an Advanced cadet’s bewildering and mind-jerking life.

With a hiss, Nellie began picking up objects from the floor.

Five

T
HEY WERE PREPARING
for Street Games. Side by side in a row of chattering female cadets, Nellie and Lierin leaned into the brightly lit mirrors of the Costumes Room, applying eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. The image had to be just right — today’s activities called for them to fade into the crowd on Marnan’s busy streets and they had to look anonymous, like any civilian twelve-year-old.

“All right!” Lierin surveyed her reflection with satisfaction. “Now for the skin-tight, sex-goddess jeans.”

The crowded room radiated excitement. Not only were they about to go above ground and mingle with normal civilian life, it was the thirty-third day of Lulunar, the Goddess’s birthday. Festivities would be taking place everywhere. Following Lierin to a rack of clothing, Nellie flipped through it until she found a hanger with her name attached. It was just as Lierin had predicted — skin-tight, sex-goddess jeans. Eagerly she slid them on, then reached for the silver-spangled T-shirt on the next hanger. A heady dizziness filled her as she pulled the sequined cloth over her head. Cadets weren’t permitted to wear street clothes unless on assignment. Other than that, it was a plain black bodysuit, day in, day out.

“What did I tell you?” crowed Lierin, strutting before the mirror in shorts and a halter top. “Sex goddess, or what?” She stood preening, a smug grin plastered across her face. “I come from the constellation Daina. I am a sex goddess with a comet for a tail, and I’m so gorgeous—”

At the far end of the room the door opened and a piercing blast cut through the giggling chatter. “Listen up, girls,” said Ms. Duikstra in clipped tones, lowering a whistle from her lips. “It’s time to get a move on. Your final briefing starts in the Common Room in five minutes.”

Shooting Lierin a grin, Nellie picked up a black clutch purse that lay on a nearby counter. Then they slipped into the line of girls filing through the doorway and down the hall toward a large meeting area known as the Common Room. As Nellie entered, she saw the boys already seated in several rows of chairs at the front of the room. Heading toward them, she settled beside Phillip, who gave her an exuberant grin. Dressed in a muscle shirt and shorts, he’d layered his hair with sun streaks. A fake stud sat in his nose and he was wearing green contact lenses. Nellie had dyed her hair black and was wearing hazel lenses. It was such a rush — these first minutes in the Common Room after putting on costumes, she thought, twisting to look at everyone. Almost the way she’d imagined it would feel to take erva — everything real but tilted, coming at you from odd angles. Like that weird feeling she got sometimes, when for a brief moment she had no idea who or where she was.

“Attention.” On command, every cadet turned to face Col. Jolsen, who was standing at the front of the room. Head of Black Core Personnel, he was in his mid-forties, a tall barrel-chested man with bristly eyebrows and the cropped hair required of adult males not out on assignment. “All of you have been given your tasks,” he said, scanning the group’s disguises with a keen eye. “Some of you will be doing surveillance, others running distractions, and twelve of you have been selected for the primary tasks.”

A sweet high-pitched thrill ran through Nellie and she settled back into her seat.
Selected for the primary tasks
. That meant her. A stealthy smile crept across her lips, the kind she figured a full-class agent would wear.

“But no matter what you’re doing,” continued the colonel, clearing his throat, “you’ve all practiced your routines, and your instructors tell me you know them inside-out. Well done, cadets. The Goddess blesses you with Her light.” He gave them the grim quirk of his upper lip the cadets had secretly dubbed “Jolsen In Ecstasy.” “As you know,” he added, “you’ve already been split into ten teams and will be departing in ten separate vans. Take a moment now and check to make sure you have your necessary equipment.”

Opening her purse, Nellie ran a reverent finger over the silver ballpoint pen that lay nestled inside.
A-Okay, everything in order, Star Leader Jolsen
, she thought silently.

“Of the four teams assigned the primary tasks,” continued Col. Jolsen after a pause, “Team A will go with Lt. Sanders, B with Lt. Neem, C with Lt. Nanji, and D with me. Now before we leave, we will recite the dedication prayer to the Warrior’s Bow.”

In sync with his last words the overhead lights dimmed, and a far-off galaxy appeared on the wall screen behind him. Abruptly the viewfinder zoomed in on the Warrior constellation, focusing on the star that glowed at the tip of the Warrior’s bow.

“We are the followers of the Warrior’s Bow,” began Col. Jolsen, and the cadets took up the short prayer, saying it with him. “We live in the realm of its holy light. Our thoughts, bodies and action shine in its service. We are servant warriors, obedient to our Masters, the Lords of the stars.”

Col. Jolsen held out his right hand, fingers splayed. “We are foot soldiers in the Great War,” he intoned.

“We are foot soldiers in the Great War,” repeated the cadets, extending their right hands.

“All is light to a soldier of light,” said Col. Jolsen.

“All is light to a soldier of light,” repeated the cadets.

“And all is dark to the Dark,” shouted Col. Jolsen, closing his right hand into a fist and jamming it upward.

“All is dark to the Dark,” the cadets cried in unison, repeating the gesture.

The overhead lights came back on and the wall screen dimmed. Taking a deep breath, the colonel leaned forward. “Out onto the streets,” he ordered, pointing to the door. “Take the light of the great Warrior out into the Dark!”

Surging to her feet, Nellie joined the cadets streaming toward the door. Her heart was thundering and the blood singing through her brain. How she loved the pre-Street Games warm-ups, chanting the ancient prayers and feeling the hearts of the other cadets beating in rhythm with her own. As they ran along the hall toward the complex’s main garage, she lifted her fist with the others, chanting, “Ride the light! Ride the light!” Feet pounded the floor and voices ricocheted off the walls, making the group seem twice its size. Louder and louder they shouted, ramming their fists into the air. At the door leading into the garage, there was the inevitable drop in energy as they split into their predetermined teams, each following its leader across the vast cement floor toward one of ten unmarked vans. Tucked behind Lierin, Nellie trotted at the tail end of her team, fighting the anticlimax by pumping her breathing in the required war-beat rhythm. When she reached her group’s van, she ran on the spot to keep focused while Lt. Sanders slid open the side door. Every second counted, everything a foot soldier did — the way she breathed, the rhythm in which she let her feet touch the ground, even the thoughts she let run through her brain — was an essential part of the preparation for war. Today’s activities might be called games, but all was light to a soldier of light, every second on the Outside an important moment in the great ongoing war against the Dark.

The central garage door shot upward and the first van slipped into the tunnel that led to the surface. Two vans back, Nellie leaned against a window, feeling the reverberations of the convoy’s long echoing roar as it passed along the tunnel. On a few occasions she’d traveled to Street Games that had been held in other Interior cities, taking the trains that sped deep beneath the surface at over two hundred miles per hour. It was only at times like these, on a subterranean train or in a van rising toward ground level, that she actually thought about living underground. Up on the surface, everything was different. There, children lived with their mothers and spent their time in school learning entirely foreign subjects. When she was aboveground, Nellie sometimes caught a glimpse of that difference, or rather a sense of what it could mean — something alien and unknown that vibrated through her like an ache.

At the surface checkpoint the convoy paused briefly, waiting as a second door slid upward, leaving a rectangular space of blinding light. Pressed to her window, Nellie blinked rapidly. Though the underground complex was well lit, it faded to a dim murkiness compared to the mind-searing sunlight they were headed toward. As her van passed into daylight, she eagerly scanned the scene before her. To her left a large truck was being unloaded, and beyond it were parked several rows of military vehicles. Ahead loomed the towering concrete walls that separated the aboveground section of the Detta complex from the city of Marnan. As Nellie watched, the first van slowed and the driver extended his wrist for the scanner at the outer gate. A few words were exchanged with the guard at the booth, and then a shudder ran through the ground as the huge double gates swung open. A second smaller shudder ran through Nellie’s body as the van started forward. It was like this every time — that moment at a scanner when her breathing stopped and life stood still, waiting for approval.

“Soldiers of light, have you prepared yourselves?” demanded Lt. Sanders. Stopping the van at the booth, he extended his wrist for the
scanner. Quickly Nellie straightened with the others, pumped up her breathing and began to chant, “Soldiers of light! Soldiers of light!” But in spite of her determined efforts at chanting, she still found herself tensing as the van drove through the gate and the invisible security beam passed through her body. What if the guard in the booth screwed something up, what if he turned on the kill signal by mistake? Acid sweat filmed her skin and her blood screamed in silent panic. Then, without incident, they were through the gate, and the Detta complex was fading like ugly vibes behind them as the van headed through Marnan’s streets toward the city center.

Ramrod straight, pumping her breath and chanting with the others, Nellie stared eagerly through the window. Everywhere she looked, she saw people hurrying along sidewalks: mothers with young children, teenagers in T-shirts and shorts. Street vendors plied a busy trade, and on one corner a theater troupe was performing a Goddess legend for an admiring crowd. Since it was the peak of summer, school was out and many of the girls were wearing swimsuits and sandals. A pang hit Nellie and she bit her lip. Obviously her sex-goddess jeans would be overkill in this heat. “Soldiers of light, soldiers of light,” she whispered, scanning the bright laughing faces, the vendors and their cartloads of flowers and cold drinks.

“Code 73N,” called Lt. Sanders from the front of the van, and Nellie pulled her gaze hastily from the window. No more sightseeing, it was time to prepare for their emergence onto the front battle lines. Once again she opened her purse and ran her finger over the silver ballpoint pen. All was in order. Closing the purse, she lifted her head and focused on her breathing, pumping it
in out in out
, but softly so that only she could hear it. Soldiers of light worked to make themselves look indistinguishable from the average civilian, but they’d been taught secret private rituals to remind themselves constantly of their difference. It was important at all times to remain aware of the difference.