Daughter of Nox

Chapter Forty-One

Etta shouted through the door that she refused to open. "Who are you again?"

"I said that I'm sorry, alright?" Freya let her forehead thump against the door. "Slag the stars, Etta, just open this flaming thing."

"Sorry only counts if I know you're Freya," Etta said, sounding entirely too chipper given the situation. "And I can't know you're Freya unless I open the door." Etta's voice took on a pensive tone. "Of course, you could come to my window. That way I could tell you're Freya for sure."

"We live on the second floor!"

"That is both true," Etta said, "and not my problem."

Freya let out a long groan. "Look, I know you're mad at me, but if you just let me in I'll explain everything."

"Pretty sure we covered that," Etta said in a sing-song voice.

"Fine." Freya slapped a hand against the door. "Be like that. I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight!" Etta's voice came from behind her as she turned. "Oh, and If you happen to see Freya out there, tell her to be careful not to fall to a horrible death if she decides to repel from the roof to my window."

Freya stomped down to her room, swiped her keycard at the slagging door, then kicked her bed as hard as she could. The bed squealed like a wounded animal, but Freya didn't feel at all better.

Vicious anger flooded her brain as she replayed the scene outside Etta's room. Freya knew she was wrong for leaving her Etta alone at the briefing, but her Second should flaming well trust her when she said she had a good reason for missing it.

Especially now, Freya thought as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the slim black infonode the Esque girl had given to her. The device felt light as she turned it over in her fingers. Too light, Freya thought, considering what it contained.

The infonode clicked into place as she slipped it into the port on her datapad. The machine sprang to life. Freya tapped the icon for the infonode, nerves fluttering in her chest with the simple action, then blinked as names and geographic coordinates popped into life onto the screen–the exact place where every team would be positioned during the next F.O.X. sim.

"I don't know if this will help," the girl had said as she'd pushed the node into Freya's hand, "but I hope you can find some use for it in the upcoming sim."

Freya scanned the document until she found her cousin's name listed.

Yes, she thought as she found Pavo's name listed as second on Hela's team. She would definitely find some use for it.

###

It was after midnight when Freya finished with the file, and her eyes ached from so long staring at a screen. But, Freya thought, the work had been worth it. She had a plan of attack for the second F.O.X. sim. A plan that, if it worked, would not only see her through to her second year, but pay her debt to Pavo Traytra for what he'd pulled during the F.O.X. sim.

It was cheating. It was wrong. Freya knew that. Or at least she knew that was what people would say if they knew about both the Esque girl, and the file. And they could say that, Freya thought, but she could give a slagging hell about what they said. Because those people hadn't been in that basement. They hadn't heard the desperation in the girl's voice, the misery as she'd pled with Freya just please give her something to ease the suffering.

Freya understood some part of that suffering. After all, she'd been the cause of it–in Cruxious Averni's ship against Hela's Esque, in command during the first F.O.X. sim, in the sparring site against the man she'd killed. People like Hela and Pavo made that suffering possible, so if she could make sure the two of them were one step closer to expulsion, then she'd do it again without a second thought.