Chapter Three

Or, the weight of history.

Step-tap-crack. Boots creating new paths in the dark underbrush. Everything tinged grey, the sign that Johana could only see because of her innate night vision. Trees taller than Johana could possibly see around, brush thick enough to slow down someone without her agility. Her ears and tail twitched as they caught footsteps ahead of her and to the right. Quickly changing directions, she hurtled through the brush after them. Her prey. Allowing an escape was total mission failure, and Johana didn’t do mission failure.

Speeding up, she used her nose to track their scent. It reeked of fear and exhaustion, the latter in equal measure to her own fatigue. Johana was close enough to hear the girl panting, desperately trying to force enough oxygen into her lungs to keep going. Lunging out from the brush at where she saw dark hair for a moment, Johana closed in for the kill.

Stene dodged at the last moment, delivering a kick to Johana’s face by mistake.

“Oh, geez,” she said, hurrying in. Since their fight before, Stene had gone back to being nice, but there was still a barrier Johana couldn’t cross. “Are you alright, Micinka?” And she’d gotten at least to the point of saying that.

“I’m okay,” Johana demurred. Pushing up off the ground, Johana wiped blood from her nose. Nothing seemed broken, thankfully. She’d get Stene the next time they had a field training exercise. Her clothes were dirty and tattered. The skirt and shirt had held up, but the stockings and soft coat had been completely ruined, and her shoes were soaked. It really was too bad they had to try to blend in with civilians, because civilian clothes really weren’t the right ones for a fight.

Behind them, heavy footsteps made short work of the brush, powerful synthetic muscle easily pushing it aside. It was Trace, who had his arms folded.

“Micinka, that wasn’t bad, but you still struggle with this part,” he said. “Shooting isn’t all there is to being a Zabite. You have to be in good shape, and able to catch even the fastest runners.” It was true. Johana had taken very naturally to the shooting and, eventually, close fighting. She still struggled to keep pace over long distance though, her performance better in short bursts. Stene and the others all fell behind at the start of a race, but passed her after the first mile. Celist always watched those races intently, one of the few times Johana saw him outside of the weekly meetings.

“Your first mission is coming up soon, so try to get past as much of this as you can,” Trace said, attempting to sound stoic. Johana had learned to pick up on his cues, though, and she could hear the concern in his voice. He had a point, and Johana nodded seriously. She glanced at Stene, who had the same expression as Trace. Johana dusted off her skirt and straightened her back.

“I will, sir,” she said, a little confidence leaking into her voice. If Celist had chosen her for this mission, it was because she could do it. There was plenty of doubt, uncertainty, and risk. But Johana had already learned that sometimes life sucks, and there wasn’t really anything she could do besides deal with it. So she straightened her back and prepared to take it head on.

Trace and Stene grinned.

“Then let’s get to the next section of the evaluation.”

The physical exam had come first. Johana wasn’t in the best shape of the Zabite, but she was already catching up rapidly. Then was this section: the Escape and Evasion portion for Stene, and the Search and Destroy portion for Johana. They had done the opposite portions first, with Stene chasing down (and capturing) Johana. Up next would be the Close Quarters Shooting exam. Later would be Close Combat, which Johana was fairly confident she would at least pass, and then finally the Stealth, Surveillance, and Subterfuge exam. That one was really hard, and only some Zabite passed. Johana thought back to when they explained the Operational Proficiency Examination to her.

“This test,” Celist said to them all, “was designed by a team of experts to identify your personal strengths and weaknesses. As you all know, the Zabite handle a variety of operations: reconnaissance, assassination, and capture, among other things.

“What missions you go on,” Celist continued, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “will be determined by this test, going forwards. As such, I’ve created four categories of Zabite: Reconnaissance, Assassination, Subterfuge, and Specialist. Most of those are self explanatory, but girls who find themselves with multiple talents will land in Specialist, and receive more missions, and more challenging missions.” He looked over the crowd, and for a moment, Johana thought his eye slit met her eyes.

Johana would be a Specialist. She had to live up to Celist’s expectations.

She and Stene arrived at the range, VP3s loaded. They glanced at each other, then looked for Trace. He would be setting the targets for a few minutes.

“Micinka,” Stene said. “I want to apologize.”

“It’s alright. We’re cool,” Johana said, and she meant it. She smiled at Stene.

Stene looked at her, relieved. “Thank you. I was worried you might not forgive me. I- I was really mean.”

“A little,” Johana admitted. “I’m just glad we can work together, for real now.”

“Agreed,” Stene said. She offered a hand, and Johana clasped it with her own. Trace cleared his throat, interrupting the moment and reminding them they were in the middle of an exam. Turning around, Johana took stock of the area. It wasn’t the same range Johana had learned to shoot on, but instead an outdoor one. The floor was a mixture of hard earth and patchy grass, with dirt berms on three sides. A yellow line had been painted, and across it were sixteen targets in two columns facing the left and right berms such that one could stand between them and shoot at the front. The targets were staggered, and they were divided in the middle with a white line.

“This is a team exercise,” Trace explained. “You’ll be scored both individually and together, so don’t rely on your partner too much, but don’t let them fail either. You will start here behind the line. When the whistle blows, you will run up to the first target, feet on the yellow line, and shoot it. When you make a hit, move to the next. You must complete this course with ten rounds or fewer, each. Understood?”

In sync, Johana and Stene vocalized an affirmative. They took positions on the line.

Trace blew the whistle, and Johana darted forwards. She squared up with the first target, canting slightly forward, and kept both eyes open for a point shooting approach. The sights quickly overlaid onto the target, and her gun barked. The steel sang, and a second later she heard the same thing behind her. Dart left, repeat. Dart left, repeat. Johana got to the fifth target, hit it, and her gun locked open. She dropped the magazine, reaching to grab a new one, when she heard Stene curse angrily behind her.

“S**t, s**t,” Stene cursed, and something hit the ground. Johana glanced over her shoulder as she slammed the magazine home and released the slide.

“Duck, duck!” Johana shouted, spinning. Stene hit the deck reflexively, and Johana hit her target for her, allowing the dog girl to finish reloading without wasting time. Johana spun around and moved to the next target, but she was out of breath. She missed the first shot, then hit it on the second. She made it to the last target before she missed again. “I’m out!”

“Duck!” came the call from behind her, and Johana did, trusting Stene to finish out for her. A casing landed near her, the final shot cried out, the steel sang, and the whistle blew.

“Not bad,” Trace said, sounding somewhat impressed. Johana could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears. “A little more work, and you two will be on the level of… well, I can’t say, I guess. But you’re doing great. Twenty seconds, girls. Not bad at all.”

Johana rolled over onto her back and laughed, Stene dropping to sit on the other side of the line. They giggled nervously together, shocked at how difficult that had been, and how quickly things had gone despite all their failures. Or at least, that was why Johana was laughing. Probably. She felt a little relief too, and something pleasant in her chest. Camaraderie, she assumed, like Celist always spoke so highly of. After a moment, Trace helped Stene up, and Johana stood as well. They had a few more tests to do, after all.

The close combat test was just a training battle against instructors, nothing worth writing home about. Johana did alright, and Stene did pretty well. But that much was expected. The real test was the Triple-S, as it was called. It was easily the most involved portion of the test as it involved civilians. Johana and Stene were to shadow a target, follow them home, and plant evidence in their home. As such, failure was not tolerated, but it was also unlikely. Civilians weren’t very situationally aware. Instead, they’d be graded on their execution, and judged based on how likely it was a real criminal would notice them.

Which was how Johana and Stene ended up at a cafe in downtown, sipping on coffee and pretending not to watch their target. A youngish Kicsik, a pretty girl with horns. To Johana, she looked a bit sickly. Her small stature made it hard to see her over the crowd sometimes. They’d already almost lost track of her, but Stene’s nose had bailed them out. Unfortunately this cafe was far too crowded- that trick wouldn’t work twice. Johana’s ears twitched.

“What?” Stene asked.

“Heavy footsteps,” Johana said, and that was enough. Only the richest of Pansa would be audible over a crowd. Both of them looked to the source: a brass-looking, eight foot tall hulk. “Not good.”

He sat down at their mark’s table.

“This complicates things,” Stene remarked. She was understating that. Big Pansa like that had better senses and often, due to age, better defenses at home and awareness of the risk they went through every day. Most had seen friends die in the past and were on their toes to prevent the same fate befalling them.

“Yeah,” Johana agreed blandly. She watched in horror as the big guy took the antlered girl’s hand in his and leaned in. At least they’d be easy to follow. The two shared a conversation over a meal. Johana watched the girl- Nela Michalkova- react to whatever the guy was saying. Her face started out as a smile, then she flushed with embarrassment. Reacting to something, her jaw dropped, and she smacked his arm. Then she laughed. Johana watched it all over a cup frozen in the air in front of her face, staring directly at Nela, intense and- her cup was shaking.

“Johana,” Stene said.

A happy conversation, and then the big guy said something, and a sad smile came over Nela’s face. The big guy leaned forward, and she shook her head. The conversation paused after that, and Nela looked away from him. Right at Johana.

Their eyes met.

Johana looked at her for a second longer, then back at her coffee. It was getting cold. Stene was glaring at her with a tight expression. Out of the corner of her eye, Johana saw a blurry Nela do something, and then she and the Pansa stood and left in unison. Johana and Stene let them get out the door and around the corner before dropping some cash on the table and high tailing it out the front door. They slinked up to the corner and peered around it, trying to spot Nela. Johana didn’t see her, but she pointed out the big brass armor of the Pansa to Stene and they moved towards him quietly.

“Are you certain,” he was saying, “that you’re not just being paranoid?”

“Honey, I know what I saw.” That must be Nela, though Johana couldn’t see her. She and Stene had moved into this alley and were hiding behind a dumpster, using some excess garbage bags as concealment. They stank, but they beat being detected.

“Alright, well- I used to be in the military. If you spend the night at my place, you’ll be safe,” the Pansa said. That was very, very bad news. Unfortunately he was probably right.

“I- I don’t know,” a waver had entered Nela’s voice. She sounded embarrassed.

“...I- I’m not going to do anything untoward,” the big guy said. Johana had to try not to laugh. It sounded like kids her age talking, not grown adults. But she resisted the urge and listened. “Look, I have a guest bedroom. You can stay there.”

“Alright,” Nela said. “Alright. That would be fine.” Heavy footsteps- headed back towards her and Stene. Johana shoved Stene back towards the alley entrance, and Stene darted around the corner. There wasn’t enough time for Johana, who had the more forward position, to follow, so she buried herself completely in the garbage, relying on her hearing. The footsteps got close, and she held her breath.

No words, but the footsteps stopped. Johana heard the sound of clothes rustling, and the quiet noise of well-lubricated metal turning. Then silence for a moment. Johana waited, hand on her gun, to see if they’d notice her. But they kept walking. She stayed in the garbage for a few minutes in case it was a fake-out, then poked her head out. She hurried after them, glancing around for Stene- the girl must have gone ahead. Johana tried to follow her by smell, but the city and garbage stink on her was making it useless. She looked around for the big Pansa, but couldn’t see him.

“S**t,” she said. Everyone picked up swearing in the Zabite. It just happened. Johana had picked it up from Stene. However, the nearby adults gave her a weird look when she said that, drawing Johana’s eyes up to look at them apologetically. Doing so gave her an idea. She doubled back into the alley, looking for and finding a fire escape. Johana hustled up it onto the roof. It was tiring to run up stairs, so by the time she got to the top of the three-story building that the cafe resided in, she was out of breath. Leaning against the edge of the roof, she looked out into the crowd.

Thank the stars for that Pansa. She spotted his shiny brass plates, stuck in foot traffic headed south. Johana couldn’t make out Nela or Stene, but presumably both would be nearby. Memorizing the route, Johana clambered back down, trying to make good time. Today her small size was a big advantage: she slipped through the crowd like a warm knife through butter. Her shoes pitter-pattered on the cobblestone streets as she picked up the pace.

The Pansa and Nela rounded a corner, and Johana slid up against it, watching them enter an expensive-looking house. A house in the city? Johana didn’t doubt that the Pansa owned it, given his size, but this meant real money. Quickly, she looked over the house. A front door in the middle, and two windows on the first floor. One large window and one small one on the second. She could see some Kicsik servants milling around in the space between the house and the adjacent building, so there was probably a back way. Unfortunately, Kicsik tended to be more perceptive than even Pansa, so Johana wasn’t too interested in going that way unless she really had to.

Taking note of the house’s location, Johana looked around for Stene. She didn’t see her. Well, Johana was carrying the package, so hopefully Stene was alright. She had a job to do. Johana snuck up towards the front, walking casually so as to look unassuming in the crowd. She broke off into the alley, opposite the Kicsik, at the first opportunity. Now came the hard part.

Johana checked deeper in the alley. The servants weren’t looking, at least. She pulled the fluffy hat down as far as it would go- not that far, on a cat-eared Kicsik. Claws extended from her hands, and she dug them into the mortar of the wall. As quickly as she could, she skittered up the wall, getting onto the roof and pressing flat against it. The shingles were scorching hot against her skin, but Johana sucked it up for the time being. Moving towards the chimney, she withdrew the package from her pocket. Hopefully the fireplace would cut it- and if this was really intended to incriminate, it would look like they tried to destroy the thing. Trace had said it was indestructible. Time to test that.

She dropped it into the fireplace as gently as she could, but it still fell two stories to the bottom. Johana cringed when it clanged. However, after waiting a minute, she didn’t hear anything from inside suggesting they knew about it- so she decided to call that good enough and get out of there.

Scurrying up and over the apex of the roof, Johana made for the back side of the house, hoping it would be less occupied. She peeked over and didn’t see anyone, so with a swinging motion she brought her hips over the edge at the lowest possible point and dropped down. The impact was hard on her knees, but Johana was lighter than most people and took the fall well. She glanced around one more time to double check that she hadn’t been spotted.

Her eyes met those of a Kicsik girl about her age, with bright orange hair and the ears of some sort of wolf or wild dog. Johana stared at her for a moment, then turned and high-tailed it out of there. She’d been spotted. Hopefully that wouldn’t cause her to fail the test, or worse, get her in real trouble. This was unprecedented, Johana told herself, and nobody would ever have even expected her and Stene to complete the objective. Especially with only being spotted once.

Well. Once except for the cafe. Johana realized she had kind of screwed this operation. Things had really gone awry and she wasn’t sure exactly how it started. She ducked out of the alley, tore off her hat and pocketed it. Gotta blend into the crowd, she reminded herself.

Someone grabbed her arm, and Johana whipped around, hand going behind her back and under her shirt.

“Whoa, whoa,” Stene exclaimed, hands up. “It’s me!”

Johana relaxed. She said, “Sorry. I- a Kicsik girl spotted me.”

“That’s really not good. Alright, let’s walk and talk, then.”

“Yeah,” Johana replied, and they got to moving.

“What happened?”

“I got spotted while escaping.”

“Well, I don’t think you should get in trouble, at least. That Pansa… and all those servants. Did you drop off the package?”

“I dropped it in the chimney.”

“That’s smart. I couldn’t have done that.” Johana wasn’t too sure about that. She had started to worry that maybe they would clean the fireplace, or be extra on edge after her being spotted and search everything for something like that. But that wasn’t logical- there was no real reason for anyone to assume that because someone had been spotted that they’d leave something. If anything, they’d probably check to see if something was stolen.

There was a reason they hadn’t been tasked with taking things, she supposed.

“I think you’d have figured it out,” Johana said. “What happened, by the way?”

“I got stopped by people asking me where my parents are,” Stene said, and Johana didn’t pry any further. Few Zabite, she had learned, still had living parents. Stene didn’t like to talk about hers. Not that Johana was any better about it; only Celist knew what had happened to her. She still had nightmares about that. Stene seemed to have some of her own, but neither girl had asked the other what they were dreaming about. It was a sort of taboo topic between them. Johana felt that wasn’t normal, but it didn’t seem right to break the pattern. She started out of her reverie when she heard Stene say something.

“Come on, let’s head back. We’ll have to be evaluated,” Stene said. Johana dry swallowed, but nodded, following her to the pickup point. Time to face the music.

Before long, Johana and Stene stood shoulder to shoulder in a concrete room. Across from them stood Trace, and a number of unidentified Pansa lurked at the edges of the room. To Johana, they didn’t look like fighters. Thinner, taller, but not as strong. They had pads and pens, and wrote on them as the conversation went on, presumably judging her and Stene on their responses.

It definitely added to the pressure.

“Name and age,” Trace asked.

“Stene, twelve.”

“Micinka, eleven.”

“Explain the events of your scenario.”

Stene started. “We were tailing the target as usual, but then a big Pansa showed up. We think he detected us. When they got up to leave, we lost them and had to find them again. Johana went high and I tried to tail them. I lost them in the crowd.”

“That’s when I saw them from above,” Johana took over. “I gave chase, but they went into the Pansa’s house. I didn’t think I could sneak in. Instead, I climbed up and over, dropped the package through the chimney at a good time, and dropped off the other side. That’s where I got spotted.”

The thin Pansa were scribbling notes.

“How did that happen?” Trace asked.

“I dropped off the roof without checking,” Johana admitted shamefully. “A Kicsik girl about my age was just standing around back there. She saw me land, so she knows I was on the roof.”

“I see,” Trace commented. “Well, there’s not much we can do about this. We’ll just have to do damage control later on. The two of you are free to go.” He waved them out, stern and stoic. Not at all like his usual self. For some reason, that unsettled Johana more than anger would have. She had no idea what the response was going to be to her failure. Hopefully nothing too bad.

As they left the office, Stene spoke up. “Micinka, I don’t think they’re all that angry.”

Johana looked at her questioningly.

“Well,” Stene explained. “I mean, what could you have done, really? We can’t be perfect.” She shrugged. Johana considered that, and then shrugged as well.

“Let’s go get some food,” Stene suggested. Johana nodded, and together they headed towards the mess hall. Johana’s thoughts wouldn’t leave her be, though. She had to wonder if being seen like that was going to become a bigger issue. Would they let her continue to work for them if she got caught again? The idea of quitting now seemed like an impossibility to her, and being made to stop like some sort of nightmare. Johana had yet to go on a real mission, but they’d fed and clothed and trained her. It just seemed wrong, with the way things were out there, to be letting it happen while other girls did the work.

The food tasted bland that evening, and her conversation with Stene was even more one-sided than usual. She didn’t eat much, and they went to bed quietly. Johana laid up in bed long after her roommate went to sleep, thinking about her screwup and having a harder time than usual falling asleep. That was why she was awake when a light flickered by her window. Johana, curious, got up and looked out. A vehicle had pulled up, not the dark and bulky sort they always used. A dark figure walked up to it- one Johana would never mistake. Celist. What was he doing in the middle of the night, meeting a strange vehicle? She wondered if this was a common thing, or if she was watching something unusual. He opened the door and got in. Johana thought she saw the silhouette of a Pansa in the seat next to him, but she couldn’t be sure.

Johana couldn’t say for sure if it was shady, given their profession. But something about this happening in the middle of the night, totally secret to the Zabite, struck her as a little odd. Maybe it was an emergency or something, or he was meeting an informant at the only time available. Biting her lip and glancing at Stene, Johana cracked open the window and slipped out. It was a two-story drop, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Her tail wagged a bit and she snuck through the grass. Her nightgown was probably poor attire, but Johana wasn’t sure how long the vehicle would wait. She spotted the license plate and noted what it was. It waited for a few minutes, and she watched it from behind a bush in the courtyard. Eventually, the vehicle’s engine revved, and it accelerated away from her. Johana waited for a minute before returning to her window, unsure what she’d do with her new information.

She snuck under the covers of her bed, double checked that the window was closed, and then went back to staring at the ceiling.

Shutting her eyes was resulting in terrible nightmares, the sort she hadn’t really had since that car ride. Johana fitfully tossed and turned, flames and gunshots and rough hands making true rest impossible. But then she fell properly asleep, and the nightmares took hold in that horrific way they sometimes do: by not letting her wake.

She opened her eyes in a dark abyss. Johana whipped left and right, reaching for her gun. It wasn’t there. She was wearing a nightgown. Freezing, she looked more closely at her surroundings. Dark, bulky, and imposing figures seemed to be forming at the edge of her perception, dissipating if she tried to look at them. She could clearly see their hands, though, so Johana focused on those instead.

The vehicle skittered sideways, the Master’s skull cracked open, his dark fluids sprayed all over the windshield. In the seat next to him, the Nurse shrieked in terror. Johana’s ears were ringing from a sound she’d never heard before. Then they were tumbling, the vehicle rolling. Thankfully she’d worn a seatbelt, or else she might have been on the roof when it crumpled. Things blurred a bit, and rough hands removed her from her seat. The cold touch told her they were Pansa hands. Hard metal bit into the soft flesh of her arm and belly where they grabbed her. They pulled her from the vehicle roughly, then tossed her to the ground. Gunshots rang out as her siblings were removed. She began to cry.

“He said to break her, not kill her,” someone said.

“I know, I know,” someone else replied. Strange sounds, like clasps being undone. A pressure over her mouth and throat, and then- Johana kicked, and struggled, but it didn’t matter. As they did their horrific and unforgivable deed, gasoline from the car leaked over onto her body, and then suddenly ignited. The Pansa began shouting, trying to put the fire out. She was just glad they’d stopped.

Johana knew it was a dream. But it didn’t make it less disgusting. She woke up again before dawn, and vomited into a garbage bin by her bed. A choking sob wracked her body. She could still feel the terrible hands and the horrible things and the pain of the fire. She hit the side of her bed with a fist, and then hit it again. It hurt, but it was a real world sort of feeling. Johana struck it again, and felt a hand on her shoulder. Long, dark hair draped down by her face, and then a warm body pressed against her side.

“It’s okay, Micinka,” Stene said, wrapping her into a hug. Johana cried more openly, letting Stene embrace her properly. Incoherent half-words babbled from her lips. “It’s okay. It’s alright.” She clutched at Stene’s nightgown and felt like a baby for it. This seemed to come out of nowhere, to blindside her. Johana couldn’t bear the pain of it, but eventually her tears subsided. She wiped her nose, and slid away from Stene.

“Sorry,” she said, voice raspy. Stene shook her head and just smiled back.

“It’s okay, I had nightmares when I first started. Let’s go get you some food,” she suggested. Johana nodded, and they got changed into their uniforms. As Johana pulled on her socks, and her head sort of stabilized, she wondered again why this was happening. The thoughts stayed dark and stormy until she got a little food in her stomach and Stene said something to her.

“You should let go of before. The past is just a poison for us,” Stene suggested. “Forget about it.” The memories flashed through her mind again, but muted, getting weaker with every bite of food. They faded and weakened and she was left looking at Stene’s warm and serious expression.

“Yes,” Micinka replied, voice dead serious. “You’re right.”