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  Epos (Maltia)

  20 November 2355

  Ethan’s 30th day on Tersain

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  After the captain’s decision not to let me leave the Epos for a while, I’ve gone back to helping the philosophers and artificers in the Resistance’s technological development work. Dawn told me that Antony and Samuel keep going out on missions, though for the moment she isn’t taking part in them.

  The young woman keeps trying to push me to learn how to fight. I usually humour her, but I never miss the chance to point out how, in my opinion, training is a waste of time and that I’m not the right person for an “offensive” role.

  “If I really have to define myself, I think I’m more of a support element,” I declare one day, while sparring with the rebel.

  “Oh, really?” she says, threatening me with her staff. “Someone who shoots flames from his hands and knocks down enemy soldiers with kicks and punches can be just a simple support?”

  “I was lucky,” I reply, jumping back to avoid an attack. “I only overpowered two soldiers in hand-to-hand combat, and in both cases I caught them by surprise.”

  “Nonsense!”

  Dawn attacks suddenly, moving the pole swiftly towards me. I react on instinct, raising an arm to block. The weapon strikes my limb, making it throb with pain, but I grab it and pull it towards me. Dawn is dragged along, and I launch a front kick at her. The rebel twists to dodge, so I strike the staff with my free hand, twisting and wrenching it from my opponent.

  Separated again, we look at each other: the roles have reversed, and now I’m the one armed. Dawn smiles.

  “See?” she says. “You’re getting used to it. You’re stronger, faster, and you’re shying away from pain less.”

  “But I’m not even doing physical exercise!” I protest.

  “Fighting me isn’t?”

  “It’s not enough. I’m not physiologically built to increase my strength,” I state. “Look at me: I’m skinny, no muscle mass. I’ve never been much better than this, not even when I did sports. The only good thing I’ve got is being fast…”

  Before I can finish speaking, the girl lunges at me. I bring up the staff to defend myself, but she’s unimpressed, and in an instant she’s on me. Her fist darts towards my stomach. I twist the pole, deflecting Dawn’s arm, but already her other hand has grabbed the vest I wear for training. I try to push her away, but she’s already launching some sort of judo move.

  With an effort, I break free and seize her arms. The girl plants one hand on my chest and shouts. A flash of light, and I feel myself hurled back by an incredible force. I use every muscle to cling to Dawn, so the wind-like energy she’s generated compresses between our bodies, lifting us a few centimetres into the air. When the mayea subsides, we fall back onto the floor.

  “Urgh…” I grunt, as the young woman immediately tries to catch me with her legs.

  The staff is now abandoned, and the two of us are locked in a furious struggle on the ground. The rebel is superior to me both in technique and in strength, and though I’m good at wriggling free from her grips, in the end she gets the better of me and pins me down.

  “Well,” says the girl, lying on my chest as she twists my arm, “You wouldn’t have lasted two seconds if I’d done something like this to you a few weeks ago.”

  I huff. Then I realise just how close our bodies are. I hold back a startled reaction.

  Since Dawn started training me like this, situations like this one have become inevitable. To my great surprise, the young woman has no qualms at all about making physical contact with me. It’s not boldness—I’d say she simply doesn’t seem to see anything wrong or suggestive about it.

  It almost makes me feel like the odd one out, and I’ve had to get used to it a bit. Compared to that time in the mess hall, when I had an overblown reaction to her nearness, I’m much calmer now.

  Still, I don’t feel particularly comfortable staying pinned like this, so I ask her:

  “Can you let me go now?”

  “You first.”

  I blink in puzzlement before realising that I’m still holding one of her arms with my free hand. I release her, and she does the same.

  “This is really embarrassing,” I remark, rubbing the arm Dawn twisted. “Me, a guy, getting beaten up like this by a girl.”

  “I can’t tell whether that’s supposed to be an insult or a compliment,” Dawn replies, sitting down beside me. “But I’ll be positive and take it as the latter.”

  As I pull myself up to sit, she crosses her legs and asks:

  “Any progress with mayea?”

  “Not a chance,” I huff. “I’m trying to do what you say, but maybe I’m missing the right ‘push’. And to make matters worse, the memory of when I created the flames isn’t that fresh anymore, so I can’t even recall the sensations I felt back then clearly.”

  “Mmh… I imagine the mayea will come out again sooner or later,” Dawn declares. “Though I hope you won’t have to end up in another dangerous situation for that to happen.”

  – – – – – – – – – –

  Stesso luogo

  30 November 2355

  Ethan’s 40th day on Tersain

  – – – – – – – – – –

  A couple of weeks pass since my return to the Epos. By my reckoning, I’ve been on Tersain for over a month now. If I were still on Earth, this would be the last day of November.

  This world too seems to follow seasonal cycles, as the temperature keeps dropping with time. Weather events like the snowfall I witnessed with Nipria are becoming more frequent, and the fragments are getting covered in snow, making them harder to distinguish among the clouds.

  One afternoon, on my way to the room where I’m to meet Dawn for training, I run into Nipria along a corridor. It’s been quite a while since I last saw her; in fact, the last time was when she peeked into my cabin the day after I came back from the mission.

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  “Hi!” I greet her.

  The artificer looks at me and gives a clumsy reply, practically unintelligible.

  She really can be shy sometimes.

  “You’re still working in the lower engine room, right?” I ask, trying to get her to loosen up.

  “Oh… most of the time, yes,” the rebel confirms. “Erm… and you, still with Archeos?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Uh… yes, about that… since we’re here…”

  Nipria takes a deep breath, then goes on:

  “I wanted to tell you earlier, but the chance never came up.”

  “What is it?”

  “I was thinking… since you work on this sort of thing… you might be interested in seeing the Epos’s main engine.”

  She’s referring to what I’ve been told is an impressive mayeutic propulsion system located at the rear of the airship. Although I’ve seen the portion that sticks out from the vessel, I’ve never looked at the internal part, which is said to be enormous, complex, and obviously vital. Most of the thrust that lets us travel depends on it.

  Admittedly, it’s not the kind of place I’d expect to be invited for a sightseeing tour. But I suppose Nipria has her own sort of professional quirk, so…

  “Not that I’m a fanatic about these things,” I laugh, “But I’d be glad to have another chat with you. Visiting the engine sounds like a good excuse.”

  “Oh…” she murmurs, blushing.

  I didn’t offend her with that laugh, did I? Ah, damn, I was only trying to sound friendly. I’m really hopeless at this sort of thing.

  Still, her expression doesn’t seem angry.

  “Great!” she brightens up instead, her voice much more confident. “Then, if you’d like, we can go now.”

  Whoa, hey, I really appreciate the enthusiasm, but I’ve got a schedule to juggle as well!

  “Sorry, Nipria, but I can’t right now,” I decline. “Dawn’s waiting for me—she’s training me to prepare for any future missions.”

  “Ah… that girl,” says the artificer, her happy expression cooling. “All right, and tomorrow?”

  “Yes, why not?” I agree. “I’ll ask her to start earlier, so I’ll have time afterwards.”

  “You’re seeing her tomorrow as well?”

  “Yes. She doesn’t give me a break.”

  “But… why all this training?” Nipria asks. “You’re a philosopher. I already told you—you shouldn’t be fighting.”

  “I’m not in a combat role, actually,” I nod. “But Dawn thinks I should be prepared, because missions are often dangerous.”

  “I don’t like this business,” the young woman says, frowning. “It’s not right that…”

  Her sentence is cut short by a fit of coughing so violent it suddenly takes her breath away. The girl bends over, shuddering. Alarmed, I raise a hand as if to place it on her back.

  “Sorry…” the artificer mutters, her fingers still covering her mouth. “I have to go.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Don’t worry,” she replies. “I’m going.”

  And she hurries off.

  What just happened?

  It looked quite severe, that coughing fit. Maybe she’s ill? I suppose, in a confined environment like the Epos, respiratory infections must spread easily. Besides, I imagine that the not-always-balanced diet we’re forced into by intermittent supplies might weaken the crew’s immune defences.

  But that didn’t sound like a cold cough, to be honest. Maybe an allergy?

  Worried, I head to the training room. Dawn is there, sitting cross-legged against a wall. Her eyes are shut, and she’s holding something in her hands.

  “Dawn?” I call.

  She opens her eyelids and looks at me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m practising with mayea,” the rebel explains.

  I move closer and sit facing her. I look at what she’s holding: a small piece of metal, recovered from who knows where.

  “And that?” I ask.

  “Now you’ll see.”

  Dawn closes her eyes. She draws in a deep breath, then murmurs:

  “Sideros, change shape.”

  A light forms a few centimetres above her cupped hands. It starts as a single point, then expands into a circle. Several symbols appear along the rim of the ring—mostly letters, but also a few numbers.

  The metal in Dawn’s palms begins to deform. As if it were liquid, it first becomes a sort of sphere, then stretches out in four directions. I watch in wonder as the shapeless piece of matter finally transforms into a small Celtic cross with a chain attached.

  “Wow,” I remark as the girl opens her eyes.

  “Did it turn out well?” she asks, lifting the pendant. “A bit simple, maybe.”

  “But it’s amazing!” I exclaim, genuinely impressed. “I’d never seen anyone manipulate matter before. And all those symbols!”

  “Ah, you hadn’t seen multiple symbols yet,” the rebel realises.

  From the context, I assume she means using several symbols of the universe together to produce a more complex mayea.

  “Only when you created a fireball,” I reply. “But that was something else entirely.”

  Dawn stares at the trinket. Then she holds it out to me.

  “You keep it.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Since you’re so enthusiastic about it.”

  I’ve no reason to refuse. However small, it’s a gift, and it would feel rude not to accept it.

  So I take the chain the young woman offers me.

  “Thank you,” I say. “Even though I’m not the type to wear religious symbols.”

  Dawn seems about to reply, but then falls silent. Maybe she doesn’t know what I meant. In Tersain I’ve heard mention of God, but never of Christianity. Oh, but come to think of it, the Celtic cross isn’t necessarily a Christian symbol… I think. I don’t really know much about these things.

  The rebel stands up, patting the dust from her trousers, then places her hands on her hips.

  “Put it in your pocket, just in case it breaks while we’re sparring,” she advises.

  I obey. After having taken off my shirt so that I’m only in a vest, I turn to face Dawn.

  “Tomorrow we’ll be docking at a fragment,” the girl announces, grabbing the staff.

  “The Epos will be mooring?”

  “Yeah. It’s a small island with a Resistance industrial complex on it.”

  “Will it be a quiet affair?”

  “Don’t worry,” says the young woman with a wink. “We’ll be loading some material, nothing more. The Republic doesn’t know that fragment’s occupied by the Resistance, nor does it patrol the surrounding area.”

  She twirls the pole in her hand for a few seconds, then strikes it against the ground.

  “And now, let’s begin.”

  “Wait,” I stop her. “I wanted to ask—tomorrow, could we start and finish a bit earlier?”

  “All right. Why?”

  “Nipria wants to show me the Epos’s main engine,” I explain.

  Dawn stays silent for a couple of seconds. Then she smiles.

  “No problem,” she agrees. “Would you rather skip the training, then?”

  “No, no, that’s not necessary.”

  “Really! That way you’ll have more time!”

  “Your training’s become a habit by now,” I declare. “I’m not giving it up. I actually enjoy doing this with you a bit.”

  A wide smile comes to my face naturally.

  What strange things I say… oh well, never mind.

  Once in a while, instead of always staying on guard, I can allow myself to be a little open about what I feel. After all, it’s true: even if I’m not fond of the activity itself, I do enjoy the time spent in the girl’s company.

  Dawn steps closer and presses one end of her staff against my chest.

  “Don’t regret what you just said,” she warns me, in a mock-threatening tone.

  “Oh, no… but you’ll regret lowering your guard!”

  I brush the pole aside and grab her wrists.

  “What—? That’s not fair!”

  “All’s fair in love and war!” I retort, managing to make her let go of her weapon.

  “This is neither of those, though!”

  With a swift move, Dawn turns the clash into a grappling match, at which she’s a specialist. Pinning down my arms, she stays on top of me, slightly out of breath, gazing down.

  “You let me do that… you didn’t fight back,” she observes.

  “No,” I admit. “It was to make up for the sneak attack.”

  “Don’t do that when you’re fighting for real.”

  “I’m not chasing honour at this point,” I grin. “In fact…”

  I bend my forearms, reaching for Dawn’s sides.

  “Wait—stop!”

  The rebel starts squirming, unable to hold back her laughter. I’m tickling her, forcing her to loosen her grip on my arms. I’ve no idea what’s come over me, giving myself this much freedom. I must be in a strange mood.

  “Come on, stop it!”

  “Not until I get free.”

  “What the hell—?”

  At that exclamation, we both freeze and turn towards the door. Jim has walked in without us noticing, staring at us wide-eyed. Then the rebel bursts into an absurdly loud laugh that leaves him almost breathless after only a moment.

  “Oh, sorry!” he says, struggling to speak. “I’ll get out of your way!”

  “What—?” I stammer, feeling myself turn crimson in an instant.

  Dawn has let go, so I spring to my feet in a flash.

  “No, don’t bother,” Jim keeps laughing, turning to leave. “I’ll tell Archeos you were ‘busy’.”

  “Oh no… wait—bastard!”

  Shouting incoherently, I dash after the rebel, who’s already bolted down the corridor at full speed.

  ???

  As Ethan dashes out through the door, Dawn sits up in the training room. A faint smile hovers on her face.

  Almost unconsciously, she begins to sway on the spot.

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