SENTINEL 555: WAR ✔

3 DICE

Dev flopped down on the bottom bunk and pressed the flashing screen of her matrix. The tablet, donning a crisscross of loose black bands at the back enabling a more secure hold, flickered to life and a shock of white hair rose up as her mother sat back, expression stoic.

Here it came.

"You calling as my supervisor or my mom?"

Two blue eyes cast downward answered that question. The official uniform during this call should have been a bigger hint. Rarely did the woman change from black to navy blue. This mess up must have been especially horrid.

"Let me have it then," Dev insisted.

"For convenience and confirmation, this transmission will be recorded," her mother warned.

Dev let out a held breath. Getting entered into the records this early would have been a thrill if it was for something good.

"I got seven," Dev told her.

The woman on the screen waited.

She waited and waited and it took everything inside Dev to raise her right hand and put it against the screen, accepting the punishment.

Only once she'd agreed to it would it appear. When she lowered her hand and saw the results, she hung her head. "Crud."

"It could have been worse," her mother said.

"How?" Dev muttered into her chest. "Mother, I'd just take the physical punishment—"

"Your father would never allow that. And I don't want to hear you repeating it."

Body trembling, Dev picked her head up. Each team received three emergency pauses to the obstacle course in the face of danger. She'd just lost one as punishment.

"But they'll think I'm arrogant. That I'd rather put the crew on the line rather than my own hide."

Two fingers went up, held out to her until her mother tapped the screen on her side and said, "Okay. The recording's stopped."

Her tone changed as well. Dev fought back tears. Bad enough her father'd begged her not to enlist. To defy him only to do so poorly on the first try was unforgivable.

"Darling," Mother said, "what happened out there? It's just a recruitment. Your height and physique alone must have drawn a crowd. And then the decorations on your arm should have had them lining up for miles."

Feeling hollow, Dev insisted, "I made a miscalculation. I followed Dad's formula."

Her mother let out a sigh. "Your father was a team lead for a reason. Did he say don't advertise, let the knowledgeable fighters come to you?"

Shivering, Dev nodded. "I let the ones who could write come. All others, I turned down."

That admission had her mother thoughtful. "You wanna sit this one out and come back next term?"

Never. Not once in all her life had Dev's mother offered her a way to rest. Not when she was a child and insisted she was sleepy. Not when she trained to fight back her hunger so young to learn how to ration supplies. And never, never even once when the practice of holding her breath filled her with so much dread she'd throw up before each session. Never.

So why now?

Dev considered it a trick. "I'm whining, aren't I?"

Her mother fought back a smile. Finally, she nodded. "Just a bit."

After tasting her lips, Dev shrugged. "And if I agreed to, could I come home?"

The smile took time to form but it was genuine. Its slow rise was because her mother forced herself to stop but couldn't.

"You take one more term off. Then come back when you've regrouped your thoughts."

Dev seriously considered the offer. "But this blot won't go away."

"No. But," her mother assured her, "you won't have to worry about what the other cadets think. They'll be rotated out and new colleagues in. You know, a bit of confidence can go a long way. I believe in you."

Matrix in the left hand, Dev rubbed her face. "Mother, was I wrong? Was I wrong to do it this way?"

For a long moment, there was silence until her mother insisted. "Darling, do you think you were wrong?"

Dev shook her head. "No." She leaned in and whispered, "But everyone's saying my name now, and not in a good way!"

A look of sympathy was all she got for that plea.

"And why don't you think you were wrong?"

That answer took longer to surface. Dev set her mouth to convey how brilliant Dad's ideas always were but she knew that wouldn't be an acceptable response.

"Because on the field, not everything's going to go according to plan. The most we can do is walk away with a limp and pray we can use what's around us to get back home in one piece."

In time, the woman gave a definitive nod. A sigh sounded her disappointment. "You're not coming home, I suppose."

Dev stared at her long and hard then sat up. "No. I'm going to trust the process. And so what if I have a reprimand and lost a life-line? We only get one life-line on the field in a real situation!" She stood, energized. "Hoa, they can take the remaining two! I—"

"Whoa." Her mother raised both hands. "Calm down there, warrior princess. As relieved as I am to see you up and out of that funk, let's not go throwing all caution to the wind."

Body still buzzing from the relief of this conversation, Dev said, "I'm not coming back. You're coming to me, as soon as I graduate."

She expected a cheer or more encouragement but her mother nodded. "That's good, dear."

If Dev didn't know any better, she'd think her mother wanted her back home. Come to think of it, neither of her parents wanted her to be a Volunteer, despite both of them being high in ranking.

Her mother studied her for a long while then forced a smile and said, "Trust in the process."

Dev gave a salute. "Yes, ma'am."

After a short pause, her mother saluted back. "And keep your idiot cousin from dragging you even further down. You hear?"

With one final definitive nod, Dev thought to end the call.

Something stopped her from tapping the screen. Doubt.

Trust in the process was the Volunteer cadet's motto. Everyone lived by it. Dev wanted to as well, but she couldn't ignore something important.

"A family of kids came in," Dev said.

Her mother sat back. "How many?"

Dev swallowed hard then answered, "More than five."

The way her mother's lips parted was telling. Finally, the woman shook her head. "We don't have a say in how the Vagrants live their lives, darling. All we can do is respect it. If they pass the screening, then it is how it has to be."

Dev hesitated. "But—but maybe they don't understand the danger. Maybe—"

A sharp wail tore through the otherwise still room. It came from the hall and faded fast.

"Mother, I have to go." Dev kissed her fingers and pressed it onto the screen, where her mother's forehead would be. "Speaking of idiot cousins."

Her mother's surprised face faded and Dev hooked the matrix onto her belt and dragged her room door to the side. The wail was still there but fading fast.

A crowd of boys raced down the hall and Dev groan. "Sen, you...lunk!"

Inside her bedroom, she wore no helmet but outside, she needed it for fresh air. It was unconscionable to force new recruits to roam without head protection from the foul air but...Trust in the process.

Dev caught up with the crowd, slowing at the sight of blood on the floor.

A circle formed and she shoved her way through in time to see Sen, swinging his matrix around like a slingshot, bring it down against his lone-recruits head.