Gameboard of the Gods

“And I told you not to touch me.”



That was when everything snapped. Kavi hadn’t just shattered the tight reins of Mae’s discipline; she’d also opened up all those boxes that Mae had used to lock up her feelings. All the grief, all the fury, all the guilt…every emotion that Mae had carefully packed and filed away since she’d learned of Porfirio’s death came pouring out. The floodgates burst, and Kavi was in their path.



Prætorians were fast, their reflexes surpassing those of ordinary soldiers. It was what defined them and was what the implant enhanced. When Mae struck out and punched Kavi in the face, Kavi should have at least seen it coming. Maybe she wouldn’t have had a chance to react fully, but she should’ve had warning. It was clear from the widening of her eyes as she flew backward into a row of chairs that she’d been completely unprepared for the attack.



Once the action started, though, her reflexes kicked in. She jumped up with little delay, but Mae was already on her again. Kavi made a few attempts to land a hit, but Mae dodged each time. A leap to the side, as perfect as anything she’d ever done in the canne combat of her youth, gave Mae the opportunity to shove the other woman backward. Kavi hit the ground, much more ungracefully than any prætorian should have. They were usually like cats, but Kavi had trouble righting herself. Her response was still fast by other people’s standards—but it took a couple of seconds too long by theirs. There was no chance for her to defend herself when Mae shot forward and kicked her in the stomach. It was immediately followed by a hit to the knee. Mae heard a crack, and Kavi screamed as she fell to the ground.



Battle mode kicked in so automatically that Mae was barely aware of what she did, only that she had to keep fighting and make sure Kavi stayed down. Endorphins and neurotransmitters surged within Mae, making her stronger and faster—but there was something else enhancing them today, a strange darkness flooding her senses and urging her to destroy. It overshadowed her like a cloak, an outside power that insidiously crept its way into her, letting her revel in the joy of violence and pain. Panic briefly seized Mae as she recognized the unwelcome sensation: No, not again. But her mental protests were soon swallowed in the haze of battle.



Kavi struggled a little, vainly trying to get up, but Mae kept her foe pinned down as she punched again and again. Mae became dimly aware of blood on the other woman’s face and the sound of shouts growing louder and louder around them. And all the while, Mae just kept thinking, Porfirio is dead, Porfirio is dead…



She didn’t know how much time passed before strong arms pulled her up and away. Her vision was tinged with red, and adrenaline, urged on by the implant, churned furiously within her. And then slowly, agonizingly, the world came into focus again. That grief-driven rage faded, and more important, the dark power that had descended upon her lifted. She saw regular gray-and-maroon-clad soldiers coming into the room, along with military police. None of them touched her, though. Two prætorians restrained her, the only ones who could hold her in full fight-or-flight mode.



“Easy, Finn. Easy.” Mae realized one of her captors was Dag. “You won. It’s over.”



That was when Mae finally dared to look down to the ground. Kavi wasn’t dead, though her breathing came raggedly, her eyes mere slits. One of her legs was bent at an unnatural angle, and blood covered her swollen face. It looked as though her nose had been broken. Mae stared in horror, unable to believe what she’d done. Prætorians fought among themselves more often than anyone liked to admit. When you had a group of people who were so physical and so chemically driven, it was hard for altercations not to break out. Usually, opponents were evenly matched. Sure, there would be a victor, but the fights were rarely all-or-nothing.



But this? It was nothing. Kavi was nothing. She’d never gotten in a hit. As Mae’s implant continued to wind down and metabolize the excess adrenaline, she tried to make sense of what had happened. The prætorians holding her finally deemed her calm enough to release to the MPs hovering nervously nearby. Mae offered no resistance. She allowed them to lead her out, but not before giving Kavi one last, disbelieving look.



They left Mae in a cell all day, which gave her a lot of time to analyze what had happened. There was no denying it: She’d cracked. She’d been weak and allowed her emotions to get the better of her. Even acknowledging that point to herself was humiliating. A little jabbing from Kavi, and Mae’s armor had crumbled.



But more than Kavi’s barbs had gotten through. Even now, Mae felt cold and nauseated as she remembered the dark force that had filled her as she fought, a force she was certain had nothing to do with her implant or sorrow. It keeps happening, she thought frantically. Mae’s life was focused on being the master of her body, and the idea of something else taking control shattered everything she fought for. It had to be some trick of her mind…because what else could it be? I should tell someone. I should see a doctor. But that thought was nearly as frightening. Prætorians who saw psychiatrists usually didn’t stay prætorians for long. No one was going to pair mental instability with a performance-enhancing implant.



One other question burned in Mae’s mind as she waited out the day. Why had Kavi been so slow to react? Or had Mae just been that fast? No, the more she thought about it, the more Mae was certain there had been nothing out of the ordinary about the way she’d fought. Yes, she’d been more emotional than usual, but that shouldn’t have affected anything. Even the rush of that dark power couldn’t create that kind of disparity.



Why had Kavi been so slow?



Mae had no answer by the time the MPs came to take her away again. They escorted her to a conference room, where she found General Gan sitting at the end of a long table. He wore the regular military’s uniform now, all gray, save for the jacket’s upper half, which was maroon. It was bedecked with the medals of his rank and a black stripe on the collar that showed he’d once been a prætorian. More silver laced his dark hair than when she’d first met him years ago, but the constant intensity and purpose in his eyes never changed.



Mae’s stomach sank further. She’d hoped someone else would be there to chastise her, maybe one of his many underlings. It wasn’t his rank she feared so much as the thought of disappointing him. He gave a small nod to the MPs, and they left, shutting the door behind them. Silence fell in the long room.



“Sit,” said Gan at last. He pointed to a chair about halfway down the table. Mae obeyed.



“So. I hear there was an incident today.” Gan was a master of understatement.



Mae stared straight ahead. She had never shirked responsibility and wasn’t about to now. “I was out of line, sir. I will gladly accept any punishment you see fit to give me.” Suspension, she thought bleakly. They’ll suspend me for sure, unless they just kick me out altogether.



He shrugged. “It was a rough day. It’s understandable that emotions would run high, especially in the wake of losing a friend.”



Gan knew perfectly well that Porfirio had been more than a friend, and his sympathy bothered Mae as much as Val and Dag’s. She would’ve preferred to be yelled at and told how completely disgraceful and inappropriate her actions were—because they had been. She decided to remind him of this, because obviously, his fondness was clouding his judgment.



“What I did was unacceptable, sir. Unforgivable.”



That brought a small smile to the general’s mouth, thought it didn’t soften the lines of his face. “I’ve seen worse, and half your cohort’s been in to tell me about how wronged you were. Valeria Jardin and Linus Dagsson have made particular nuisances of themselves.” Yes, they most certainly would. “That doesn’t mean we can ignore what happened, of course. The incident will be noted in your record, and you’ll be suspended from regular duty.”



Suspended from regular duty. She’d expected it, but it was still tough to swallow.



“Don’t worry. You won’t be locked away or confined to a desk.” He snorted. “I can’t imagine giving one of you a desk job. I can’t even imagine one of you sitting still for very long. Prætorians are too valuable to waste, and I have a task for you.”



“I’ll do anything you require of me, sir.”



He drummed his fingers against the table, momentarily lost in thought. “It’s a strange errand, but a necessary one—one that unexpectedly just came up and may be a good opportunity for you to…adjust to recent events. We wouldn’t ask it of you if it wasn’t important, of course.”



“Of course, sir.” His use of “task” and “errand” didn’t reassure her any, but Mae still hoped she might be sent to some volatile location. It’d be no more than she deserved, and maybe in glorious battle, she’d redeem herself.



“I need you to go to Panama City. Have you ever been there?”



It took Mae a few moments to answer. Panama City? There’d be no glorious battle there. The RUNA had no conflict with that region. In fact, she’d heard there were tentative trading negotiations in the works. Panama was still provincial, of course, filled with unchecked religion, a gangster-run government, and old and new aristocracies vying for power. Tame compared to other places.



“No, sir. I’ve never been there.”



“Well, you’re going there now. I’ll have the mission details sent to you, and we can meet again once you’ve read them over.”



“Of course, sir.” She hesitated over her next words. She had no business asking questions in light of what she’d done. Obedience was her only path. Yet, no matter how much she denied it around others, she knew she was one of Gan’s favorites. He’d let her ask. “Sir…how is Prætorian Kavi?”



“She’s fine—well, considering the circumstances, that is. She’ll be hospitalized for a while and then be off duty as she recovers. You did a neat job of breaking her leg.”



Mae winced, and an image of Kavi’s bloody face flashed through her mind. Prætorians were difficult to hurt. And even more difficult to kill, but it happened to Porfirio. “I’m sorry, sir. I should visit her and apologize.”