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God, Fal’ran hoped so.
Finally allowed to walk, Fal’ran, Bar’in, and Tar trailed after Smith’s bright stride as slowly as they could get away with. Off the main track, the trees of the jungle closed over them and Fal’ran looked at the broad-leafed plants with a newfound gratitude as they blocked the harsh sun.
Away from the hubbub of the camp, Fal’ran realized with a start that he could hear birds. The strange intermittent jingles and chirps were birds. And the low hum that filled his ears was insects.
They hadn’t had those in the Moon Projects. Well, they hadn’t had the sort of insects that made comforting humming noises, at least. Klah’s moon didn’t have an atmosphere. It only supported life because the government had needed a place to put people who weren’t surviving in proper Klah’Eel society. So, they’d built domes and housing structures, then shoved the widows, widowers, drunks, orphans, and whoever else couldn’t scrape enough together to stay out of them under the domes, called it societal maintenance, and patted themselves on the back. After all, the Human species state let their poor fester in ghettos.
Fal’ran always thought he’d have preferred the ghettos. At least he could have gotten out of those without government transport. But it didn’t matter now. He was here. In the army, on Klah, in a jungle, breathing real air and listening to birds, of all things. He’d made it and he was determined to make it even further.
“So, are we done yet?” Bar’in broke the silence first, his voice cocky and disinterested, but his hands and thighs shaking with exhaustion.
“Ha!” Smith scoffed loudly enough to startle a brightly colored bird from a bush on their left. “You think after the shit you three pulled this morning, I’m letting you off with a light jog and a pep talk? Think again, kids.”
Fal’ran rolled his eyes. Kids to Smith, maybe. Judging by the streaks of gray in the human’s dark hair and the lines creasing the corners of his eyes, Smith was at least as old as Fal’ran’s father. That age and still the lowly squad leader of the lowliest squad in the army? Fal’ran had to get the fuck out of here before he got tainted by association.
“In three weeks, we face the Trial. A week after that, we ship out to fight the Insects.” Smith led them to a clearing in the jungle dominated by a structure of metal, rope, and wood. He crossed his arms and turned to face them. “Someone raise their hand if they think they’re ready for that?”
No one did.
“Not even you, Fal’ran?” Smith raised his eyebrows with false shock in his voice. Fal’ran scowled back. The Trial was team-based, and he wasn’t about to pretend that their shitty team was ready for it or that he could carry them through it alone. And the Insects…well, they were still getting reports about combat with the Insects, and it wasn’t pretty. Smith chuckled and turned back to the hulking structure. “Who wants to take a guess at what this is?”
Fal’ran scanned the thick rope netting, bars, planks, and ramps, and his lips tugged into a smile around his tusks. “An obstacle course.”
Smith threw him a smile over his shoulder. “That’s right. Bar’in, you’re up.”
“What?” Bar’in took a step back before catching himself and planting his feet. “Why me? You know Fal’ran’s gagging to show off.”
Fal’ran scoffed. “It’s not showing off to put in a little fucking effort.”
“It is if you smirk the whole time and keep checking to see if daddy’s watching.” Bar’in jerked his head towards Smith and Fal’ran leapt at him.
“Fuck you, you little—”
“My god, the two of you!” Smith shoved between them and grabbed Fal’ran’s collar. “Let it go for two hours, would you?”
Fal’ran tore himself out of Smith’s grip and snarled. He did not always check to see if Smith was watching. He didn’t care if Smith watched him. And he cared even less if Smith was impressed by him. But then Bar’in’s nostrils flared again, and he gave Fal’ran a shit-eating grin that made Fal’ran back away. How well could that man smell, anyway?
“Bar’in, just get your skinny ass on that obstacle course.” Smith threw Bar’in toward the start of the rickety contraption, his voice tight with exasperation. “You’re first, because I said you’re first.”
Bar’in made a frustrated noise but didn’t argue again as he shuffled into position.
Fal’ran crossed his arms and stepped up next to Smith to get a better view. “Can he even reach that third bar?”
Smith flicked his eyes up to Fal’ran. “You’d better hope so.”
Fal’ran lifted a shoulder and his upper lip. “Why?”
“Because he’s on your team, Fal’ran,” Smith sighed.
“We’re assigned to the same squad.” Fal’ran narrowed his eyes as Bar’in rolled his narrow shoulders and looked up the first ramp with clear trepidation in his yellow eyes. “It’s not the same thing.”
No one was on Fal’ran’s team. No one ever had been, no one ever would be, and he wasn’t on anyone else’s team either.
Smith didn’t reply, though Fal’ran saw his lips press together as he raised his arm into the air. “Alright, Bar’in, on my mark.” Bar’in swallowed and crouched down. “Ready. Go!” Smith dropped his arm in a smooth motion and Bar’in shot forward.
Fal’ran’s eyebrows rose as Bar’in raced up the first ramp, quick and surefooted, then down the next one with just as much agility. He didn’t slow as he ran up the second ramp and flung himself off the top of it to the first bar, catching it with the tips of his fingers.
Bar’in was small—shorter than Smith even, and Smith was human—but he knew it. He always waited until the last moment to launch himself, building his momentum and moving when he reached the top of an arc, taking advantage of the fact that he was fast, faster than Fal’ran would have ever credited him with. He was fast with his thoughts, too. He sized up the paths over an obstacle within an instant of encountering it—never getting stuck, confused, or turned around even while climbing the rope net up around a series of wood and metal barriers.
