Dragon Horse

Date: Mono-12, Triakosia

Location: Biodome, Stockade Theta

Z: The nano medicinal pills have worked quite well. Most of the fractures in my trachea, hyoid bone, and thyroid and cricoid cartilages have faded, and I don’t have to wear my cervical collar anymore.

[Xolani slips his arms into the sleeves of his parka, engineered from a mixture of swan-necked seal skin and prehistoric caribou hide.]

Z: Now I have to go back to school. Even though my internal injuries are gone, I still have some scars from the lacerations the rope, and Felix’s teeth, left on my neck.

[He secures a scarf around his throat. It itches a bit, but at least it doesn’t dig into his tissue. His mother wove it for him with Elasmotherium sibiricum wool. Thank the sky for Uni.]

Z: Because I’m programmed to be proficient in hand-to-hand combat, weapons operations, and survival, I don’t have to go to all of the classes at Colchis. In the name of progress, however, Cepheus has commanded me to not only observe the sparring sessions there, but attend Biology at Argos as well–

Dr. Sonzwaphi: Xolani, where are you?

Dr. Nomkhubulwane: You’re going to miss the train!

Z: Shoot, I gotta go!

Date: Mono-12, Triakosia

Location: Argos Academy, Lab B-1.

[Xolani holds his satchel over his head to shield himself from the stinging pellets of ice that hammer down from above. He had hoped for a blizzard. At least the snow doesn't try to smash his skull when it falls. He shoves my way through the front doors and staggers into the classroom. The screen doesn’t show the last slide they looked at for their lecture on evolution. It’s…blank.]

Prof. Chamberlain: Zeta, you made it.

Z: Yes, doctor, I did, but, uh, call me Xolani.

Prof. Chamberlain: Sit down and we’ll get started.

[Before Xolani can start scrambling for a seat, someone waves to him in my peripheral vision, and moves his backpack off the desk beside him. Xolani scurries over to him and lowers himself onto the crooked chair, which creaks at a pitch that reminds him of an archaeopteryx’s screech, and induces just as much of a wince from the other classmates. Except for the one right next to him, and that’s because his hearing aid is probably turned off. He tears off a page from his notebook, scribbles on it, taps Xolani’s shoulder, and slides it over to him.]

Z: Thanks.

[The stranger’s sharp eyes scan the paper, then he pulls out a pen from the pocket of his coat and scrawls on it, sliding it back.]

N: You’re welcome.

Z: What’s your name?

N: Nikolaos, but the professor calls me the dicrip.

Z: I’m Xolani, but the professor calls me Zeta.

Prof. Chamberlain: Attention, comrades!

[The professor pivots on his heel and salutes the poster of General Chiyou at the front of the room. Xolani and Nikolaos leap to their feet, along with all their other classmates, and salute it as well.]

LEADING OUR CHILDREN TO VICTORY!

Prof. Chamberlain: At ease.

[They lower their arms and sit down, their creaks becoming one with the cacophony of every other classmate’s chair cawing at the top of their lungs.]

Prof. Chamberlain: The Arctolean Alliance has ordered me to inform you all of the new risks that have surfaced in the south. As of now, an attack on Argos, Colchis, or both, may be imminent. Because of this, in place of a lecture on evolution, we will be reviewing our evacuation drills.

[He presses a button on the projector, lighting up the screen with a map of the school.]

Prof. Chamberlain: Remember, we must be brave for our country, be real Arctoleans, but we also have to be alert. We cannot afford weakness in our civilians or combatants.

[Nikolaos stares straight ahead, but Xolani knows he can see the other students glancing at him in his peripheral vision. Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, Epsilon, and Vau whisper to Xolani from within, the instinct to rip all their eyeballs out echoing through his synapses.]

Prof. Chamberlain: Before we proceed with the drills, the Arctolean Alliance has also ordered me to inform you of Fornax’s new biochemical weapon. Like our nano medicinal pills, it is a microscopic bot that is injected into the brain stem. It targets and severs the neural pathways to the anterior insular cortex, which controls…

[Xolani's tentative hand trembles in the air.]

Prof. Chamberlain: Yes, Zeta?

[That’s not our name, Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, Epsilon, and Vau hiss at him. Forget ripping out their eyeballs, rip out his larynx first.]

Z: Empathy?

[Down, Xolani hisses back at them.]

Prof. Chamberlain: That is correct. When the surgery is completed, the iris of the victim is penetrated, leading to coloboma, or slitted pupils. This is how the scientists keep track of which prisoners of war have been re-educated, and how you can identify them. If you see them in your sector, report it immediately to Polaris, Cepheus, or Triangulum…

[He can get scientific names like coloboma and anterior insular cortex right, but he can’t get our name or Nikolaos’ name? Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, Epsilon, and Vau thrash against the meshed genes in his DNA. Rip it out, rip it out, rip it out!]

Prof. Chamberlain: Do not pity these prisoners of war.

[Keep it down, or I’ll rip you all out!]

Prof. Chamberlain: They may have our horsehair helmets, our armor, and our cloaks, but they are not real Arctoleans. They are subquates, and they are the enemy–

[Xolani’s hand shoots into the air.]

Z: Correct me if I’m wrong, professor, but I think these prisoners of war are being tortured, not re-educated.

Prof. Chamberlain: Zeta–

Z: Call me Xolani. And if they’re being tortured, we should be trying to save them. How can we call ourselves their comrades if we leave them to be experimented on?

Prof. Chamberlain: I have a question for you, Xolani. What is the penalty for dissent?

[That shuts up Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, Epsilon, and Vau in an instant.]

Z: Seven…seven years in the collectivized farms.

[Seven years of barbed wire, wading through muddy water, cutting up crops with chipped, rotten nails, a crooked, creaky spine, all while weighed down by the metal around his wrists and ankles, and no comrades but the cold. In the seat beside Xolani, Nikolaos’ shoulders stiffen. His hearing aid is turned on, and right now, it must weigh ten times heavier than those cuffs ever could.]

Prof. Chamberlain: That's correct.

[Xolani scratches under his scarf.]

Prof. Chamberlain: We are close to discovering an antidote.

[Xolani has seen his father stay up for six nights in a row trying to find the antidote. He is far from close.]

Prof. Chamberlain: Casualties are low.

[Xolani has seen his mother zipping up the body bags of the prisoners that were reported, and then “re-re-educated” by a firing squad. Casualties are high. He has helped her bury them beneath the ice, and some of the bags are lighter than he thought they would be because a lot of them are much, much younger than him.]

Prof. Chamberlain: Any questions?

[They go through the motions they’ve learned since they were old enough to walk. Find the quickest route to the bomb shelter. Go to the nearest stairwell, down to the basement, hide in there, cover our heads, and brace for impact. When Xolani thinks of the poster again, his thoughts write over the words.]

LEADING OUR CHILDREN TO DEATH!

Date: Mono-12, Triakosia

Location: Colchis Academy, gymnasium.

[A student Xolani has never seen before pummels one of the punching bags. An inverted, black alpha symbol, the mark of Colchis, emblazoned her jacket, which she has cast aside. Sweat stains her white shirt and mats her jet-black buzz cut. Her combat boots have left prints all over the fabric, and her black cargo pants snap with every kick. Xolani tears a page out of Nikolaos’ book and circles behind the punching bag as it flies towards him. She stops for a speedy salute.]

A: May the sky bear witness.

Z: May the sky bear witness–

[She starts again. Xolani does his best to hold the bag steady, but he doesn't make much of a difference. She strikes at the bag with her shins in rapid succession, then she brings her rear leg forward. This time, instead of kicking it again, she snaps her leg back while throwing a cross. It hits like a shell to his stomach. May the sky have mercy.]

Z: I’m, um, I’m Xolani.

[She stops again to tighten the wrappings on her hands. The sky does have mercy!]

A: Thanks for the assist, I’m-Xolani.

[She holds out her hand to him.]

A: Name’s Aroon.

[Xolani puts his tentative, trembling hand in hers. She proceeds to pulverize it.]

Z: Shouldn't you be on the battlefield?

A: Shouldn't you be working on your own punching bag? I’m looking forward to fighting you.

[Xolani lets out a strangled squeak.]

Z: What?

[Aroon lets go.]

A: I said I’m looking forward to sparring with you.

[Xolani shakes out his mangled hand, croaking out a curt laugh.]

Z: I’m only here to observe.

[Aroon leans back against the wall, unraveling the bandages from between her fingers.]

A: I observe that you’re wearing a scarf, even though you're indoors. What's up with that?

[Her narrow eyes lock onto Xolani’s neck, her pupils two shearing teeth that tear into his larynx, surgically muzzling him.]

Z: Uh…

[A shrill whistle. Before Sergeant Wotan even shouts the order, Aroon is standing at attention and saluting the poster at the front of the gym.]

Sgt. Wotan: Now listen up, this is Aroon. She didn't pass her final examination, but she’s still one of our best.

[Aroon tenses at that.]

Sgt. Wotan: She’s here to demonstrate basic self-defense techniques due to the growing possibility of a Sub-Equatet attack in the following weeks. Take it away, top-of-the-class.

[Aroon steps forward, folding her arms behind her back and holding her head high as she addresses them all.]

A: Because krabi-krabong may be too advanced for you all, I’m introducing you to a fighting style known as Muay Thai. My grandfather taught me well, and I'm going to teach you all even better. I’ll focus on different types of chok, or punches, for today’s class, including the jab, spinning backfist, and superman punch, but first, I need a partner.

[May the sky have mercy, don't let it be me.]

A: I’m-Xolani, get up here!

[I spoke too soon; the sky is merciless.]

A: Do you know how to get into a defensive stance?

[Aroon leads Xolani into the center of the gym. His classmates circle them. For a split second, their skin shifts over their skeletons. Six Smilodons surround him, then they stalk off when Aroon hands him a helmet, a padded vest, and some guards for his knees and elbows.]

A: This is the Wai Khru. Don't waste your time doing this on the battlefield. Only do it for your fellow Arctolean opponents.

[While Xolani puts his gear on, Aroon marches around the gymnasium, touching the walls and closing her eyes for a moment at each corner. She bows her head to the ground three times, pivoting on her knee to face all four directions. She extends one arm and draws her fist back, aiming an invisible arrow at Xolani as he tightens the chin straps of his helmet.]

A: Put your fists up, one in front of your face and one in front of your chest. Feet are shoulder-width apart–not that wide, you’re much scrawnier than that–and stick your dominant foot out. There you go, it took you long enough.

[She steps back and spreads her arms out.]

A: Now punch me.

Z: What?

[The sergeant stifles a snort.]

Sgt. Wotan: Sorry.

A: Do you not know what a punch is?

[Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, Epsilon, and Vau howl with laughter at that. They’ve already figured out fifty ways to kill her while she’s been doing her Wai Khru, and none of them involve punches.]

Z: I know what it is.

[Xolani throws a hook at her ribs. She spins away from his attack, cutting off Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, Epsilon, and Bay's cackles when he loses his center of gravity. Her knuckles collide with the back of his helmet. I didn’t even see her elbow move. He doubles back, disoriented. Sergeant Wotan catches him before he can trip over his own feet and moves him back into the circle.]

A: That, comrades, is the spinning backfist.

[She pats Xolani on the arm.]

A: You survived.

[Xolani almost tells her that he shouldn't have, but instead he throws a strained smile at her. He turns around and tries to back out of the circle. The other students – or are they Smilodons? They’re students, they're students – close in on him. Aroon yanks him into the center by his padded elbow.]

A: Not so fast, I’m-Xolani, we still have two more techniques to practice!