Chapter 33: Delight, Now on Clearance

  Jack woke up the next day feeling stronger yet. He was also coated in the nasty gunk again, needing a sprint to the shower and a change of bed sheets. Unsurprisingly, multiple sets were ready for use in the closet.

  He could even see a little more change in his body shape. Fat trimmed. A shadow of definition to the muscles under the surface.

  What was more, Mini had a fantastic message waiting.

  It was nice to see the tangible change. Fitness wasn’t a numerical stat, sadly, but he felt like it had improved similarly. Surely, he was close to ‘Average!’

  His schedule started similarly to the day before, having breakfast with Augur and Inkblot, and then proceeding into intensive lifting training with Mike — but this time he was slotted only for an hour due to the necessity of other ‘basic processing’ and skills assessment.

  It was a string of military refreshers with specialists and tests of various kinds: marksmanship, weapon handling, process of orders, military structure, tactics, customs, etcetera. He’d already been through some of the worst and most challenging courses a long-range pilot had to take — and ‘course’ was putting it mildly for some of them.

  SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape) training was one of those gauntlets no one wanted to go through twice. Mock pursuit in the wilderness for days as though in hostile territory, and increasingly tightening until there was no chance but to be captured.

  And then came the worst. Internment in a camp by men in makeup and costume as disgusting ‘corrupted mutant’ types, a crude approximation of one of humanity’s enemies abroad. It was a psychological nightmare in crude conditions, split between isolation, alienation, and various attempts to sow distrust in the prisoners — get them to crack. Naturally, no one was going to turncoat in a test, but it at least conditioned the mind to recognize the signs. And people did crack in other ways under the stress at times.

  After the ordeal was over, it was pointed out that any capture was very likely to be ten times worse, and if one could, they should try to die beforehand instead of letting it happen. Not just to avoid torture, but to avoid inevitably cracking and giving them everything. Cold words, but the experience had given Jack a humbling understanding of how it could happen.

  In any case, passing SERE was thankfully a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and despite that Nons specifically went through a different version of it late in their development, it was considered comparable. Another mark on the requirements list checked off.

  When all was said and done, he was given two classes: Special Operations: Fundamentals and Common Law & Peacekeeping Procedures. These were typically conducted at the AMMA facility earlier in a career, so he got a tutor instead. However, one cadet had been forced to retake the latter two weeks ago, so once Jack was caught up by a few days of instruction and studying, he’d have a single classmate.

  He asked more about Spec Ops training and if he’d be doing a ton of latter courses, and was told it was different for Nons. Agent Exemplars had a huge, complex course structure, with some of it bridging together with Nons in coordination over years. He needed a custom program to familiarize himself with all the need-to-know knowledge necessary to wedge himself in. A lot of physical stuff was all but irrelevant, and he had the benefit of way more military training and knowledge than most (wilderness survival and land navigation, for instance), but he was still lacking. ‘Let’s just take it one day at a time,’ was the applicable adage.

  He was also told the biggest thing with Nons was their team combat training, called the Powers Applied Coordination Courses, or the PACCs. Plural, because some went through them for years of grueling training and competition before they earned their coat and became a true Agent Nonpareil. Usually in a team of four, though individual and circumstantial exceptions did exist. What determined this graduation was not directly gameable, as Central Processing and Memoria herself were the judges. But the stated goal was clear: coordinated success. Team excellence. The team didn’t always last past the putting on of a coat, and units of Nons were generally of five, anyway. The point was being an instrumental axis of a team. That was the final test.

  If you couldn’t get it together and show enough, you didn’t get a coat. Some didn’t care, or had no chance. But the cream of the crop? They’d care very, very deeply.

  As a quite brain-drained and starving Jack hopped onto a subway train full of administrators, everyone and their brother bound for lunch at the mess hall, he pondered the PACCs and how they made a lot of things add up.

  Everyone’s curiosity. Social habits. Délight’s eagerness. I could be the missing ingredient, right? She has no idea how green I am. Maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe she likes projects, who knows…

  The saying about devils and speaking of them came to mind as he immediately caught sight of the dark-yet-glowing beauty inside the entrance to the mess hall, chatting with two other girls, all wearing uniforms. People walking by found it hard not to slow down and stare. One girl elbowed a boy in the ribs and growled, which made him promptly tear his eyes away with a wince and a murmured apology. The glare he got back indicated it wasn’t terribly well received.

  Délight soon caught sight of him as he walked up, to which she gave a pleased gasp and smiled widely. “Jack!” She slid smoothly toward him and hugged him like he was a long-lost friend. Her glow expanded like it was a blossoming flower. She was happy. “It’s you!”

  Surprised, Jack awkwardly hugged her back with a polite grin. Still, it felt wonderful being around her. He quickly relaxed. What a friendly girl! There was no reason to be hesitant! He laughed jovially. “And here I wondered if you’d remember me!”

  “Psh!” She flung her hand dismissively, in a distinctively feminine gesture. “The boy who appreciates quiche? As if.” She turned around with her arm still around his back to face the other two girls, her other hand indicating him as if presenting. “Mr. Jack Laker, here, was not even slightly self-conscious and utterly confident in his masculinity as he beelined for the breakfast quiche.” Her tone, ever delicate and sophisticated, was lightly teasing, and she spoke around a grin.

  The two girls pretended to be impressed in exaggerated fashion. One of them did a golf clap.

  Jack played it up, puffing out his chest and pretending to be smug. “Yep, yep, ahhh, that’s me. Mr. Blasé Confidence. I’ll wear a salmon-colored shirt, too.”

  All three girls tittered at this. Délight laughed delightedly, her radiance and warmth amping up. She met his eyes briefly, playfully. “Jack, you may have me beat on being a delight. How dare you show me up.”

  It was hard to pull his eyes away from her. Physically difficult. Yeesh! She makes my head cloudy. “Oh, not so, but I’ll take distant second place.”

  “And my heart with it.” She winked. “Jack! You must come sit with us! You can meet everyone. Do you have time?”

  “Of course. Assuming I can eat soon.”

  “I bought food for the whole table. An assortment from Big Time Noodles.”

  “Noodles! In that case, lead on!”

  “Gladly!” She took his arm in the crook of an elbow and ‘escorted’ him down the stairs past numerous tables filled with cadets eating lunch. A ton of people eyed them curiously as they passed. A girl waved in greeting to Délight with a wide smile, and she waved back amiably.

  She feels just a tad like a celebrity.

  Their table was a rectangle seating up to eight, and four were already there — three boys and a girl — chatting like friends do and eating. Délight paused to gesture at Jack and declare, “Everyone, this is Jack Laker, the mysterious new recruit. I invited him to eat with us.”

  Smiles and jumbled greetings of ‘Hi!’ and ‘Hi, Jack!’ blossomed from the seated, and he smiled politely and waved in return. “A pleasure. Thanks for having me, folks.”

  They all sat and filled the table, Jack next to Délight with one of the ‘tittery’ girls sitting on his other side. A plate was already in front of him as if waiting for him. Délight quirked an eyebrow and asked him, “How about a little of everything to sample?”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “That would be great.” Soon, he saw her grabbing for a container, and he realized she intended to do it herself. “But, really, I can get it-”

  “Oh, shush! I’m the host, here. Just relax.” She flashed her eyes and her warmest smile, yet, at him. He had to relent, though slightly embarrassed, and watched as she filled his plate with various little piles of noodle, meat, and vegetable combos. Halfway through this process, she leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You can start eating. I’m sure you need your strength!”

  “Right. Yeah.” Jack picked up some tongs and grabbed a bite in between her retrievals, where she’d sometimes ask for someone to pass a carton around. As soon as the food was in his mouth, Jack’s hunger went into the stratosphere, and he had to restrain himself from pigging out. The busy day had left him with a black hole in his gut.

  Get. In. My. Belly.

  Thankfully, others were eating heartily, too — in-between chatter starting up between them again.

  Jack’s eyes happened to meet the guy across from him while he was sipping a drink. He had one of those default wide-eyed, direct, intense looks common to a lot of career military. The man lowered his cup, smiled, and stood up to reach his hand across the table for a shake. “Chime. Nice to meet you, Jack.” His shoulder emblem appeared to be the outline of an apple with an ideographic symbol of some sort inside it, maybe kanji.

  Jack returned the smile and the shake, nodding. “Same.”

  When Chime sat back down, the redheaded girl next to him — perpetually sitting intimately close in clear signs of ‘togetherness’ between them — waved from her seat with a polite smile. “Hiccup, here. Or Cee Cee. Hi!” Her emblem was the mask he’d seen before.

  Codenames. Jack, feeling the pressure to say something, couldn’t resist commenting on that. “I guess everyone uses their codenames, then.”

  The whole table seemed to pause, looking at him or exchanging glances with each other. Délight patted his shoulder amiably and replied, “You will, too, Jack. It’s our culture. We leave the given Homo Sapien name behind and take our own.”

  She said it very easily, and there were a few nods of matter-of-fact agreement around the table. Jack felt a bit… disturbed by it.

  Gotta remember they were set apart early. What about Lindsay, though? It’s a Psych play, probably. Puts me more at ease. Eh. She likes ‘Shifu’ now, anyway.

  “So it’s true, then,” Hiccup blurted, eyes brimming with curiosity, shifting from Délight to Jack. “You’re… new. New to all of this, though you look like a seasoned vet. That’s so wild. Was it… hard? Not being connected.”

  “Cee Cee, please-” Délight began, slightly exasperated.

  “Nah, it’s alright,” Jack said with a nonchalant shrug. “Obviously, I can’t discuss details, and I probably shouldn’t answer that question, but the Mem- er, Mother… knows I’ve got zero chance not sticking out like a sore thumb among you all. So what I can say is that I don’t know jack about your inner world. Sorry for any faux pas committed, in advance.”

  “Not at all,” Délight replied smoothly, another radiant smile of hers blossoming as she studied him. “You clearly intend to respect and learn the ways of the birthright stolen from you.” Her words and gaze seemed laced with passion for him, as if he were inspirational to her. “If you ever need opinions on your new name potential, we’d be happy to oblige. Out of curiosity, would y-”

  She stopped short as other heads at the table had turned suddenly, and everyone kinda froze at a pale, short-haired girl with a food tray in her hands, also a bit frozen as she noticed Délight while walking by. For an instant, the girl looked like she might stop walking forward, turn around, and flee, but an instant later, she seemed to get her back up and decided to be stubborn. She turned her head away as if ignoring Délight entirely and kept walking at her ease.

  Délight’s generally radiant aura went stone cold, as did her expression staring after the girl. Others at the table looked between them as if expecting something to happen. Something explosive, no doubt.

  As the girl dared to pass right by, though, Délight barked a short, mocking laugh and declared, “Look who it is! The overachieving wonder of Nimrod.” The passing girl stopped dead and turned a withering look Délight’s way as she continued. “It’s so sad you left the underachievers behind. Where are they, then? In their special dunce corners?”

  A snicker came from Hiccup, amused head-shaking from Chime, and others tittered.

  Oh, stars help me, this is some High School shit. Is this the Popular Table? And am I with the Mean Girls?

  Délight couldn’t hide her foul mood — it was spiky in the air, and some translation from the subtle visual discord made him feel… something. A pocket of emotion that might make him ‘on her side’ if he knew her better. As it was, with the resistance inside him, it just made him generally annoyed and on edge.

  Alright, this isn’t good. I need to stay away from her! Just as he was coming up in his head with some excuse he’d make to leave, the girl standing and glaring at Délight said, “Maybe you should worry about your own fraggin' coat, Délight. Jumping every rod you bump into must look chaotic to the brass, huh? Especially when it blows up and maybe ruins a career. Worried yet about getting stuck as a hanger without the blue threads? You should be.”

  Délight smiled with apparent cheer, squinting her eyes and leaning on the table with a fist at her chin. “Worried, when I have a year before even the average, and nearly another year on you? Hardly. But I’m sorry you’re so jealous of me.”

  “Jealous?!” She gave an incredulous laugh and shook her head upward. “You are such a narcissist…”

  Her voice, right from the start, tickled his memory. Then it hit him, and Jack blurted out in amazement, “Lighthouse?!”

  The girl’s eyes shifted to his dismissively at first, but then she did a double-take and her eyes went wide in recognition. Her mouth dropped open. “How the hell…?!”

  Délight’s head whipped around to Jack, and her face twisted in incredulous, perturbed confusion. “You know each other?!”

  Jack looked between them as they both stared back. “Ah, well, not exactly… We met, though… in a way…”

  Délight continued to be confused, studying him with narrowed eyes. Meanwhile, Lighthouse huffed and shook her head as she turned away. “Forget it. I’ve had ten times too much of this Middle School bullshit.” She glanced back at Jack and then at Délight with a measure of disgust and — perhaps — pity for him. “Have fun.” The statement dripped with sarcasm. She slid her eyes away and stalked off.

  Jack immediately rose. “Wait!”

  Délight’s hand took his arm with a little tug, and her suddenly restored, radiant glow drew his eyes to hers irresistibly. “Jack, you just sat down!” She smiled widely and insistently, her eyes pleading. “Won’t you sit with me a little longer and eat? Please?”

  This time, what she was doing was thicker with her desire — she wanted that a lot in comparison to him leaving after Lighthouse. And the request was so simple! How could he refuse that smile and those pretty eyes, for such a small thing? Sure, he was going to leave before, but…

  No. Something roiled within him in response — tendrils sweeping and snapping many cords like a whip, all in one great, violent flash frozen in time. In that flash, in an instant, the pull in his gut vanished. His mind went clear and dark. Cold. He went blind to the glow around Délight, and saw just the rather ordinary person behind it. Quiet words became his own thoughts, coalescing into existence with sublime gentleness, yet unshakably certain: I will not be swayed, for I am my own, and free. This is my decision.

  Jack looked down at that insistent face and said softly, firmly, “I’m sorry, Délight, but the answer is no.”

  What she saw in his eyes utterly shocked her. He saw a measure of fear in hers. With her grip gone entirely limp, he had no trouble slipping away. Jack swept his eyes over the other stunned members of the table and added, “Thanks, all. See you around.”

  As he walked around the table, he could feel their eyes on him. He half-expected an outburst, but nothing came. He was almost certain Délight was watching him the entire time, though he never turned back to verify.

  After many tables between them as he walked through the court, the clear coldness began to fade away, and Jack felt a sweat bead on his forehead as he thought about the encounter.

  Holy unholy shit, what a mic drop! Haha. Bet she doesn’t get told ‘no’ very much. Satisfying, but I may have just made an enemy. Nothing for it. Whether she can help it or not, those close to her are under heavy influence. Think I’ll pass. Quallakuloth is probably not a fan, either.

  He’d definitely received help from the entity through Prey’s Redress. He supposed that made Délight a predator of sorts. Concerning yet amusing, to Jack. Another ‘cute and deadly’ type, like a cat with poisonous claws. ‘Cat Scratch Fever’ that befuddled your senses.

  He sought out Lighthouse, walking around tables, hoping she was sitting at one of them. He finally found her at the bottom-most level on the other side of the central pyramid fountain, where not a whole lot of people sat, being the furthest from the entrance and any relevant food source.

  She was halfway through a burger and fries, lost in her own thoughts as she ate, and not noticing him walk up until he plopped down in front of her. “Hey there,” Jack said in greeting.

  Lighthouse squinted in some disbelief at seeing him, but took time to chew her food and wash it down with a drink. She had short, dark hair, a small, snub nose, and irises that were almost totally white, with faint, blue marbling. After working her tongue around in her mouth, she finally said, “Come to spy for your mistress? Would’ve been better off sending one of her girls.”

  Jack gave her an incredulous look. “Do you truthfully believe that, as a trained Agent Nonpareil?”

  Lighthouse frowned at him, her eyes flickering away and back. “I guess not. Why were you with- never mind that, actually — how are you even here? You were a civilian hick a few days ago, by all appearances.”

  “Hey, I’m not a hick! I was a taxi pilot in New Babylon. I’m a city boy! I was visiting the farm.”

  Lighthouse gave him an impatient, head-cocked look that showed how much she bought it — or perhaps how little she cared.

  If Neex knew, she'd cheer the mic drop!

  Délight in general is puzzled out over time, folks, but feel free to speculate. Some might be upset about her. All I'll say is that Memoria's perspective is well-considered.

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