The neural stabilizer Vex had injected worked. Renne woke the next morning with a clear head and a back that only ached, rather than screamed.
Her bracelet displayed the day's schedule. 0600: Combat Fundamentals. 0900: Mecha Theory. 1400: Synchronization Practice.
She dressed in her gray uniform and walked to the mess hall. The room was large, filled with long tables and the smell of synthetic protein. Cadets sat in clusters—nobles at the front tables, citizens in the middle, and at the very back, a scattering of Indent in white jumpsuits. Renne's gray uniform placed her in the citizen section, but no one made room for her.
She took a tray of food—nutrient blocks, a cup of synthetic juice—and sat at an empty table near the wall.
A tray clattered across from her. Eris dropped into the seat with a grin.
"Morning! You look better than yesterday. Less like a corpse."
Renne chewed her nutrient block. It tasted like cardboard. "I feel better."
"See? I told you. You just needed someone to talk to." Eris bit into her own block without flinching. "So, what's your story? How'd a Mars Indent end up here? The genetic lottery thing?"
Renne paused mid-chew. She looked at Eris's face—open, curious, no hidden edge. The girl was either genuinely friendly or a very good actor. On Mars, the latter was more common.
"Something like that," Renne said.
Eris leaned forward. "I'm from Titan. Citizen family. My father's a mechanic in the shipyards. He saved for ten years to get me into the academy." Her voice dropped. "He wants me to become a knight so our family can move up a caste."
Renne set down her block. "That's why you're here? For your family?"
"Why else?" Eris shrugged. "It's not like I have a death wish. But if I can make their lives easier…" She smiled, but it was smaller now. "You understand, right? Doing things for people you care about?"
Renne thought of her father, standing in front of the soldiers, his hands raised. She thought of the chip hidden in his shed. 'For Renne. The only way we are free.'
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I understand."
Eris hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking to the other tables where nobles were laughing. She leaned in again, her voice a whisper. "Look, I know you're Indent. Or you were. And I know people here are… not nice about that." She paused. "But you survived the implant. You got assigned a mecha no one else could touch. That's not nothing."
Renne studied her. "You want something from me."
"I want to not eat alone." Eris's grin returned, but there was something steadier behind it. "And maybe… I think you're going to do something big. I want to be there when it happens."
It was an honest answer, or at least it felt that way. Renne didn't trust it completely—trust was a luxury she'd never had—but she didn't push the tray away.
"We'll see," she said.
Eris grabbed both trays. "That's good enough. Come on, we'll be late for combat drills."
---
Combat Fundamentals was held in a different training bay, this one lined with mats and weapon racks. Instructor Thorne was a broad man with a cybernetic arm, his voice a constant bark. Today's lesson was hand-to-hand grappling.
Renne was paired with a citizen boy named Doran. He was polite enough, but his technique was clean, practiced. He'd clearly trained before the academy. Renne had learned to fight in Mars alleys—dirty, desperate, all elbows and knees. In a structured match, she was outmatched.
Doran pinned her twice in the first five minutes. The third time, she managed to slip his hold and get behind him, her arm around his throat. He tapped out, surprised.
"Good," Thorne said, watching from the side. "The Indent has instincts. The rest of you are fighting like you're in a ballroom."
Eris, who had been paired with a larger noble girl, was not faring as well. She was on the ground, the noble's knee on her back.
"Yield," the noble said.
Eris spat out a mouthful of hair. "No."
The noble pressed harder. Eris's face reddened. Still, she didn't tap. Renne saw her fingers clawing at the mat, her teeth gritted.
"Yield," the noble repeated.
"No."
Thorne finally stepped in. "Enough. Let her up."
The noble rose, shaking her head. Eris pushed herself up, her face flushed, a small smile on her lips. She caught Renne's eye and gave a thumbs up.
After the session, Renne found Eris in the locker room, rubbing her shoulder.
"You could have yielded," Renne said. "She was twice your size."
"Yeah, but then she'd think she could do that every time." Eris grinned. "Now she knows I'll make her work for it. That's worth a few bruises."
Renne looked at her for a long moment. 'She's not naive,' she thought. 'She knows exactly what she's doing.'
"You're not as soft as you look," Renne said.
"Neither are you, Mars rock." Eris bumped her shoulder. "Come on. Mecha Theory next. I hear it's boring, but the instructor is cute."
---
Mecha Theory was held in a classroom overlooking the hangar. Cadets could see the rows of mechas through a massive viewport. The instructor, a thin woman with glasses and a monotone voice, lectured on star-iron composition and anima resonance.
Renne sat in the back, Eris beside her. The words washed over her—she understood some, but the technical details were new. She found herself glancing at the hangar, at the far alcove where Argent sat.
Eris noticed. "You're thinking about your mecha."
"It's not mine."
"It chose you, didn't it?" Eris whispered, keeping her voice low so the instructor wouldn't hear. "The rust bucket at the end. I heard about it. No one's been able to sync with it for years."
Renne turned to her. "Who told you that?"
"Everyone knows. Cadets talk." Eris shrugged. "Some of them think it's haunted. Others think it's just broken. But you touched it and it lit up. That's not nothing."
Renne looked back at the hangar. From this angle, Argent was hidden behind a row of newer mechas. But she could almost feel its presence—a low, steady hum at the edge of her awareness.
"It's just a machine," she said.
"That's what they all say before they bond with one." Eris's voice was light, but her eyes were serious. "My father says mechas choose pilots for a reason. Something about the anima recognizing something in the person. A need. A purpose."
Renne absorbed that. She thought of the warmth when she touched Argent, the vibration like a purr. 'What need would a broken mecha see in me?'
The instructor called on her. "Inductee Renne. What is the primary function of the nanomachine core in a pilot's spine?"
Renne blinked. She hadn't been listening. Eris mouthed something—'bridge'—but Renne ignored her.
"It connects the pilot's nervous system to the mecha's anima," she said, recalling what Vex had told her. "It transmits thought into motion and motion into feedback."
The instructor raised an eyebrow. "Correct. But the feedback loop is the most dangerous element. If the mecha's anima is too strong or too hostile, the pilot's mind can be overwhelmed. That is why synchronization is a gradual process."
She continued lecturing, but Renne's mind was elsewhere. 'Hostile. Argent wasn't hostile. It was… waiting.'
---
After class, Renne went to the hangar.
She told herself it was just to familiarize herself with her assigned unit. But her feet carried her past the new mechas without stopping, straight to the far alcove.
Argent stood in the same slumped posture, dust on its armor. Renne walked up to it and placed her palm on its leg.
The warmth came instantly. The vibration followed, deeper than before. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation. It wasn't just heat—it was a presence. Something old, patient, but also wary. She felt a flicker of resistance, a pulse that seemed to pull back.
She kept her hand there, waiting.
The resistance softened, but didn't vanish. The mecha's anima was there, but it was holding back, testing.
"I'm not going to force you," Renne said quietly. "I just want to know why you're still here. Why you haven't rusted away."
The vibration wavered. For a moment, she felt a spike of something sharp—pain, maybe, or anger. The optical lens on Argent's head flickered, pale blue, then went dark.
Renne pulled her hand away, her fingers tingling. 'It's not ready. Or I'm not.'
Her bracelet beeped. A message from Vex: *Synchronization Bay 4. 1600. Don't be late.*
She looked at Argent one more time, then left.
---
Synchronization Bay 4 was a small chamber with a single chair in the center. Wires and cables hung from the ceiling, ending in ports that matched the implant in Renne's spine. Vex stood beside the chair, his tablet in hand.
"Sit," he said.
Renne sat. Vex connected the cables to her implant—a cold, clicking sensation as each port locked into place.
"Today, you learn to feel your mecha's anima without physical contact." He tapped his tablet. "Your nanomachines have been partially calibrated to Argent's frequency. The initial contact you made—the warmth, the vibration—that gave the system enough data to start the calibration. But it's not complete. Argent will have to accept the rest."
Renne frowned. "How do I make it accept?"
"You don't 'make' it do anything." Vex's voice was flat. "You prove to it that you're worth the risk. Close your eyes."
Renne did. Darkness.
"Breathe. Slow. Find the connection."
She focused. At first, nothing. Then a faint thread, somewhere deep in her skull. She reached for it, and the thread became a hum.
The hum grew. It was familiar—the same vibration she'd felt in the hangar. But now it was inside her, filling her chest, her limbs, her thoughts. And with it came resistance. A wall, cold and hard, pushing back against her.
'You're still testing me,' she thought.
She pushed gently, not forcing, just… asking. The wall trembled. For a moment, she saw something—a vast, dark space. And in the center, a spark. Pale blue, small, flickering. But the spark was surrounded by cracks, lines of darkness radiating outward.
Pain. Sharp, sudden, like a blade across her consciousness. She gasped, her eyes flying open. Her nose was bleeding.
Vex was watching her, his expression unreadable. "What did you feel?"
"Pain," Renne said, her voice hoarse. She wiped the blood from her lip. "Old pain. It's… wounded. It doesn't want to get hurt again."
Vex studied her for a long moment. "Argent was damaged in a battle seven years ago. Its pilot died. The mecha's anima was… affected. Based on the logs, it has rejected every pilot since." He paused. "The working theory is that it doesn't want to feel that loss again."
Renne touched the ports on her spine. "It let me in, but not all the way."
"No." Vex disconnected the cables. "It's testing you. An anima that's been hurt can be as stubborn as a person. It will push you. Try to break you." He looked at her with his red eye. "And if it decides you're not worthy, it will burn out your mind. That was only the first attempt. Tomorrow will be harder."
Renne stood. Her legs were unsteady, and her head throbbed. She held herself straight.
"I didn't come this far to get burned out," she said.
Vex's lips curled. "We'll see."
He turned and left the chamber. Renne stood there for a moment, her heart pounding. The echo of Argent's presence was still there—but it was distant now, like a memory of a voice that had already turned away.
She walked out into the corridor. Cadets passed her, some glancing, most ignoring her. She didn't care.
She found a window overlooking Saturn's rings and stood there, watching the ice crystals drift in their endless orbit.
'You're scared,' she thought. 'I get it. But I'm not your old pilot. I'm not anyone you've known before.'
No response. Just the cold glass under her fingertips, and the faint, fading ache in her spine.
'Fine. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.'
She turned away from the window and headed back to her room. Tomorrow, synchronization training would continue. And Argent would test her again.
She wasn't sure she was ready. But she was sure she'd survive.