Fire and Ice

Chapter 26 † Kayleigh

I wake up at 0600 hours sharp. I get up and walk to the bathroom. Petra remains motionless, sleeping until the 0645 alarm goes off I assume. I grab a small cloth and dampen it, lightly scrubbing sleep from my face. I grab my hairbrush and gently brush out my now dry hair. I pull it off of my face in a tight Dutch style braid, pinning down hairs that are flying up, and pinning the official white beret of my Lunar orbital dress uniform in its slightly off-center spot. I walk out and grab my gloves and pull my hanging uniform out of the closet. I head back into the bathroom and change into it. Manually. Yuck.

I always forget how long this takes since I normally just change my outfit using my suit. I keep my gloves on, even thought I can't have them, disguising them to look and feel like my hands. What are you scared of, cadet? A voice chimes in my head. Scared that the Colonel's gonna whip you during a uni check? I shudder at the memories, the punishments us girls had to endure for any minor thing out of place, but leave my hidden gloves and suit as is. The weaponry may prove useful. You're meeting with untrained, non-combatant civilians. Ender's siblings. Still. Better safe than sorry. I don't like this voice, a new voice chimes in. She's a know-it-all, it sneers. Am not, the previous voice declares indignantly. Stop having mental conversations with yourself A9. Right. I continue snapping, buttoning, and zipping until my uniform is completely on. The long sleeve white jacket looks strange compared to my normal black bodysuit, various stripes of gold and red adorning the wrists and brightly colored medals dangling from my chest. I opted for the shorter, pleated skirt, despite technically needing to wear the long one due to my rank. My pristine white boots come up to just below my knees, gold paint surrounding the edges of the mostly flat soles. I grab the two standard issue blades and tuck them up my sleeves into the release mechanism, blade pointing down, serrated edge facing front. I tuck the small loaded handgun into the holster tucked beneath my untucked jacket. I fasten the belt around my waist and pluck a long, black strand of hair from my sleeve. I look back up in the mirror.

I never thought I'd have to see myself like this again.

The pure white looks even more foreign against my pale skin than I thought. My eyes instantly appear more sunken, the deep sorrow from my Karlstein days reappearing from the darkest depths of my personality.

I hate it.

I hate the fear that creases my face, despite the cause of it being long dead.

I hate the sickly green my skin now appears.

I hate the horrors committed while this uniform was on my body.

I hate the medals and gold adorning the jacket, as though murder and submission is worthy of admiration.

But most of all, I hate that the only people who knew my struggles aren't here to save me from the terror I inflict upon myself using my own memories as fuel.

Mikhail. Althia. Evangeline. Andrej. Harvey. Einri.

Their names and small, happy memories of them float through my brain, as tears begin rolling silently down my face.

You haven't even looked up where any of them are buried.

I sigh deeply. The voice is right, as it always is, and my carelessness and blatant disrespect of my friends cuts through me like a katana.

I was busy, I meekly argue with it. There are no excuses. I look myself in the eyes. No more of this. Get ahold of yourself. I wipe the tears and splash cold water onto my face. I dry my face and then turn and walk out of the room. I pull up my arm guard's data screen and begin typing. I glance in the bottom right corner to check the time. 0630 hours. Fifteen minutes. That should be enough.

≈≈≈

The alarm begins blaring at 0645 hours, as unfeeling about my need to sleep as ever. I fling my arm out I search of the foul device that ruins my sleep. After several unguided slaps, I finally manage to make contact with it and hit the off button. I slump back into bed. Warm...

"Rise 'n shine, Arkanian," Kayleigh's voice calls gently from across the room. I groan as dramatically as I can, flailing my legs to make noise with the sheets and wiggling around. Kayleigh exhales sharply from her nose. "I know you like sleep, Petra, but I'm pretty sure you like food more. You'll miss breakfast if you don't get up now, and I'm not bringing you any if you choose to sleep in." I bolt up into a sitting position and point an accusing finger at Kayleigh.

"You," I huff theatrically, "are stupid." Kayleigh's mouth thins into a line, turning down at the corners, but her eyes light up brightly.

"You can't call me stupid just 'cuz I'm right." She hesitates for a moment before tacking "Stupid" decidedly at the end of her statement. She and I proceed to stare at each other. The corners of my mouth tighten as I struggle to contain my laughter. Her mouth returns to it's previously unforgiving line, but as we glare deeply into each other's eyes her cheeks puff with air as small laughs are contained by her staggering will power. She slowly raises her hand up, placing her thumb on her nose and extending her other fingers so that her palm faces the wall. Then, she decides to have the nerve to stick her tongue out at me and wiggle her fingers. We both break down laughing for multiple minutes, and by the time she laughingly tells me to 'get dressed or get dead' tears prick the corners of both of our eyes.