It wasn’t long before the group was ready to move. Just in time, as Lee popped back into the space with a report on the mites. Apparently, they were heading in our direction. Not that I expected any different. Humans were tasty to all the monsters out there. They also tended to be a little easier to kill than anything that evolved to survive the wilds in which they lived.

  With a simple command, the group started for their first destination. Lee jumped ahead to check the path before reporting what he found. Every once in a while, he stopped to rest. Allowing the group to move forward as he waited to see if anything was following the group.

  As time went on, the reports of mite sightings grew both closer and more frequent. By the time the group reached the target location, the tree line thinned before vanishing to reveal the small outpost and the hill it sat on. The hill ended in a sheer drop to the water far below.

  Weather Station Hemerson

  Location: Zander’s Last Stand

  While the location made some sense for a weather station, I had to wonder why a team had been sent here. The outpost didn’t even look all that worn down. Sure, the metal sheeting had a few pits and rust here and there.

  It even had that odd textured treatment used on structures expected to last for years with little to no maintenance. A treatment that had managed to keep a few bridges from the old world standing even now.

  I didn’t see any signs that monsters had been here recently. Even the vegetation seemed to be avoiding the rocky soil and the building set atop it. So, I needed to figure out what to do.

  According to the test instructions, I had to get the group here. And I had. Every one of them had survived the trip here. But now I had a bit of a problem.

  They had no time to do anything. Not with the Sliver Mites approaching this place. Every minute I let them stay was a minute I lost in getting them to the city where they would be safe.

  Sure, they could make a stand here. The cliff meant any attack would have to come from one direction. The lack of trees also took care of any sight issues. But for everything that this place had going for it, it had severe issues.

  That same cliff edge prevented the group from retreating. To do so would require the group to push through whatever was attacking. And without any cover, the monsters had a clean shot at any of the defenders. Just thinking about the issues with this place made me wonder if the name had a story. In fact, I wondered if the location was real or if it had been generated for this test.

  With a bit of mental effort, I forced myself to focus on the task before me. To ignore the random questions that kept popping up in my head. Well, all but the one that wondered if the test was vague on purpose. If part of the test here was to see if I would do exactly as ordered or think for myself.

  I mean, what would the point be in reaching this place if I just ordered the group to turn around and leave? No, there had to be a reason to be here. A fact that clashed with the fact that I was running out of time.

  Finally, I gave in and agreed to check the building out. To see if there was a reason to get here. For all I knew it was to grab a box or something. Whatever it was, the group had five minutes to get in and get out.

  With a tap of the keyboard, nearly every member of the group raced toward the building. Only Lee stayed behind. From atop a boulder, he watched the treeline. Waiting for the monsters to show up.

  That was probably why he survived what happened next. He was far enough away that he had time to react. Time to run. To survive.

  As for the rest of the group. The mites descended upon the group as the building itself fell to pieces. What I had taken to be metal sheeting was a mass of mites. The various spots of pits and rust were just the wooden structure showing through.

  Between one moment and the next, the humans died. The collapsing sheet of mites devoured them even as their combined weight crushed them. Of the original group, only Lee survived and even he only made it a little further.

  He vanished to appear in the trees just as the first wave of mites appeared. Without waiting for him to make a move, a ball of mites shot out of the mass and splattered against his back. He was dead before he made the next leap.

  With his death, the interface darkened, and the various holograms scattered through the room vanished. The proctor didn’t even glance at me as they made their way out of the room. Their sudden departure gave me no time to argue for another try. Not that I blamed them for running. I probably wasn’t the first person to think about demanding another go.

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  As I made my way back to the cafeteria, the last scene played through my head. I knew there was nothing I could have done to save the scout. However, tell that to my conscience.

  Every part of the test flickered through my head. The options I had been presented. What I did. What I didn’t do. How things might have gone. What might have changed. I didn’t have enough brain power to even taste my food as my brain crunched through everything.

  Finally, I had to go. To get up and move on to my next test. My last test. The one test on my schedule that lacked any sort of information on what it might be about. On what I might be asked to do.

  As I made my way through the tunnels, I found the decorations and gleam of the academy fading into something more utilitarian in design. Flowers and art were replaced with equipment and various outlets. Lounges were replaced with work stations.

  The warm glow of the lamps became harsh and white as I passed under a holographic sign warning visitors of potential loud noises and smells. To me, the smells reminded me of the shop. That metallic smell of warm metal as oil worked to keep it cool and lubricated. A deep rumbling of some sort of engine worked its way through whatever test was being performed on it.

  Finally, I reached what had to be the room in which my next, and last, test would take place. The only way to be sure without going in would have been to clean the sign, but that would have taken a bit of solvent and some elbow grease. Even if I had the solvent, it was not something I was willing to do at that moment.

  With no hesitation, I moved into the room and looked around for the proctor. Likely a person wearing something nice. Someone more likely to sneer at the mess than deign to help fix something as it might stain their clothes. Even if that something would help keep them alive and this place running.

  Halfway across the room, with their body mostly under the machine that sat there, was the only other person in the room. A dull thump reverberated through the metal and was quickly followed by a series of curses.

  “Blasted fucking piece of shit.” The deep but feminine timbre caught me off guard. “Fix the generator. They said. It would be simple. They said. Well they fucking lied. This machine was junk the last time they brought it in. Not that they cared. They just wanted the piece of crap fixed. And did they listen to me when I said to take it easy? Not one fucking word. Full load without a minute of downtime.”

  I nearly laughed at her ranting. She sounded so much like my mother when one of our customers pissed her off. I almost wondered if she would react the same to an interruption. Hopefully not as I did not want to be on the receiving end of that.

  “Excuse me?” I tried. She continued to rant and curse some of the stupid officials, so I tried again. This time a bit louder. “Excuse me?” Once again, she managed to ignore me. Not willing to waste any more time, I gave up on being nice and gave a short, sharp whistle. “Oi.”

  Judging by the sudden sound of cursing, not at a person but in pain, I could assume she heard me that time. Hard wheels scraped on concrete as she slid out enough to glare at me. “What do you want?”

  “Is this room 903?”

  Before I could say another word, she sneered. “You can read, can’t you? Of course, this is room 903. Now, answer the fucking question.”

  “I have a test…”

  “God fucking damned it.” With a snap, mana flared and the tools around her shifted enough to let her up. “It isn’t like I have enough to do already. They just have to give me a newbie to test.”

  “I can…”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you think you can do.” She snapped. “Everything you were taught, everything you know, is all bullshit as you were likely taught by a hack or given half-ass information to get you out of the person's hair. All while they handed you the shitty jobs they refused to do.” Her hand reached for something on the side of the toolbox facing away from me.

  “And how would you know what the fuck I have been taught?” I shot back. My words were cold and harsh, but I didn’t care. No one had the right to disrespect my mother or what she taught me. “Judge not…”

  “I have seen enough of your kind to understand exactly what you have been taught.” She rolled her eyes as her hand lifted a bottle to her lips. “Nothing you say or do will surprise me.”

  I threw my hands up as I demanded. “If you are not going to at least give me a chance, then what the fuck is the point of me even being here?”

  “I don’t care.” She pointed at the exit. “Now, get the fuck out before you get some stains on your clothing.”

  My eyes narrowed for a moment before I turned and started for the door. Nothing was worth dealing with this bitch. “That is what I thought.” Her words had me spinning around and stalking back.

  I intended to yell at her. Berate her about how she treated others. But as I brushed past the machine on my way toward her, something reached out. Mana tickled at my hand as something asked for attention.

  It was a feeling I was used to. The machine was reaching out as it tried to tell me what was wrong. All I had to do was listen. Of course, unlike every other time, I had the feeling that this wasn’t normal. Except this time the feeling was a bit stronger. More present. Like my knowing that it wasn’t normal allowed me to pay more attention to the power.

  Usually, I simply opened myself up to the machine. Listening to its cries. This time, I took it a step further. I reached back. I asked it for more information. Asked it to tell me what was wrong and where.

  As something clicked into place, the feeling of wrongness and pain speared into my mind. Nearly overwhelming me as the pain tried to drive me to my knees. To my surprise, the woman didn’t hesitate to rush in my direction. Her eyes wandered over me. Looking for where I might be hurt. As though she actually cared if I was hurt.

  Internally, I scoffed at the idea that she would care about someone else. It was more likely that she cared if I was hurt in one of her workshops. That she would be held for any damage or injuries I suffered.

  I shoved her away. I didn’t need nor want her help. “Open up the fuel manifold and check each line. Also, replace every injector.” The words slipped past my lips.

  I didn’t know how I knew that was the problem, nor did I care. I just knew that the issue was there and that the machine had been crying for help and she had been ignoring it. Treating the obvious symptoms rather than going after what was causing the issue.

  With a final push, I moved away from her and left the place. It was up to her whether or not she took my advice. For the sake of the machine, I hoped that she would.

  The instant I returned to the warmer section of the academy, my pad started to go crazy. I ignored it in favor of bed. Whatever, whoever, was trying to get my attention, they could wait. I would deal with them in the morning.