THE STUDENTS WHO STARTED A GALACTIC WAR

Assets and Liabilities (Training)

TAVIAN’S POV

The klaxons ripped through the dark at 0600. Lights flooded the cell—white, surgical, blinding. My eyes were already open. I'd been awake since 0530, lying on the cot, staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds until the routine began.

Metal batons clanged against the bars. "Up! Move it, assets!"

I sat up. Swung my legs off the cot. Stood at attention.

Zali came awake swinging. Her fist connected with the wall before her eyes opened. She screamed—raw, wordless—and thrashed against the thin blanket. A guard stepped forward, shock-stick raised. The tip sparked blue.

"Try it," Zali snarled.

The guard jabbed the stick toward her. She jerked back, chest heaving, hands clenched.

Rio groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "This violates the Geneva Convention."

"Move," the guard said.

"Beauty sleep is a human right."

The guard yanked the pillow away and threw it across the cell. Rio sat up slowly, dragging his feet over the edge of the cot. He hummed something off-key, deliberately slow, grinning at the guard.

Lumi gasped and bolted upright, hands clutching the blanket. Her eyes darted between the guards and the door. She moved fast, stumbling off the cot, pressing herself against the wall.

Elian sat up. His face was blank. He stood, pulled on his boots, laced them with precise movements. His eyes tracked the guards' positions, the distance to the door, the angle of the shock-sticks.

I hated that I was already standing. Hated that my body had obeyed before my mind caught up. Hated the small, tight coil of relief in my chest that came from knowing the routine.

They marched us down a corridor. White walls. Fluorescent lights. Our footsteps echoed. Zali walked in front of me, shoulders rigid, fists swinging. Rio hummed louder, dragging his feet. Lumi walked close to the wall, eyes down. Elian moved in silence.

The training hall was enormous. High ceilings. Padded walls. Equipment scattered across the floor—weights, targets, obstacle courses, machines I couldn't name. Scientists in white coats stood at stations along the perimeter, tablets in hand. General Sterling stood on a raised platform at the far end, arms crossed, watching.

An instructor stepped forward—broad shoulders, shaved head, voice like gravel. "Line up."

I moved into position. Shoulders back. Feet shoulder-width apart. Hands at my sides.

Zali stopped three feet away from the line, glaring at the instructor.

"I said line up."

"I heard you."

"Then move."

"Make me."

The instructor's jaw tightened. He gestured to a guard. The shock-stick sparked again. Zali stepped into line, fists trembling.

Rio wandered over, hands in his pockets. Lumi stood at the far end, arms wrapped around herself. Elianstood beside me, posture neutral, eyes forward.

"Pathetic," the instructor said. He turned to me. "You. What's your name?"

"Tavian ."

"You look like you've done this before."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Get them in formation."

I turned to the group. "We need to..."

"Go to hell," Zali said.

Rio snorted. Lumi looked at the floor. Elian's expression didn't change.

The instructor walked down the line. "You will learn to control your abilities. You will follow orders. You will perform. Or you will fail." He stopped in front of Zali. "You first. Speed trial. Run the course."

Zali stared at the obstacle course—a long track with barriers, turns, padded walls at the end.

"Run it," the instructor said.

Zali launched forward. Her body blurred. The air cracked. She covered fifty meters in a second, hit the first turn, couldn't slow. Her shoulder slammed into the barrier. She spun, careened toward the wall, crashed into the padding at forty miles per hour.

The impact was a wet thud. She crumpled to the floor, rolled onto her side, and vomited.

A scientist stepped forward, tablet up. "Lack of braking mechanism. Friction coefficient insufficient for high-speed deceleration."

The instructor gestured to Rio. "You. Creation trial. Make a standard-issue pistol."

Rio blinked. "A what?"

"A gun. Visualize it. Create it."

Rio closed his eyes. His hands moved, shaping something in the air. Gray light pooled between his palms. It solidified—blocky, vaguely gun-shaped, smooth and featureless. He opened his eyes and held it up.

The instructor took it. Turned it over. "This is plastic."

"It looks like a gun."

The instructor pulled the trigger. Nothing. He opened the chamber. Solid. No mechanisms. No firing pin. He dropped it on the floor. The object melted into gray sludge.

"Garbage in, garbage out," the instructor said. He turned to me. "Strength trial. Open that hatch."

He pointed to a heavy metal hatch set into the floor. I walked over, crouched, gripped the handle. I pulled.

The handle ripped free. Metal screeched. The hatch stayed closed. I stood there, holding the handle, staring at the torn bolts.

"Too strong for your own good," the instructor said. A scientist made a note.

Elian was next. "Telekinesis trial. Lift the weight."

A steel block sat in the center of the floor. Two hundred pounds, maybe more. Elian stepped forward. He stared at it. His jaw tightened. His hands clenched. The veins in his neck stood out. A blood vessel burst in his left eye, red spreading across the white.

The weight didn't move.

Elian exhaled and stepped back, blinking. Blood leaked from the corner of his eye.

"You're using force," the instructor said. "This isn't a muscle. It's a tool. Learn the difference."

Lumi was last. The instructor brought out a cage. Inside, a white rat, leg bent at a wrong angle.

"Heal it," he said.

Lumi's hands shook. She opened the cage, reached in, touched the rat. Light flickered around her fingers. The rat's leg snapped straight, bone realigning with a soft crack.

Lumi screamed. She collapsed, clutching her own leg, tears streaming down her face. She sobbed, rocking back and forth.

A scientist stepped forward. "Empathic feedback. She experiences the trauma she repairs."

The instructor dismissed her with a wave. Guards hauled Lumi to the side. She curled into a ball, still clutching her leg.

I watched Sterling. He stood on the platform, face expressionless, arms still crossed. He made a small gesture to one of the scientists. The scientist nodded and walked toward a side door.

I turned to Elian. "Stop analyzing and fight. The General is watching."

Elian looked at me. "What?"

"We spar. Now."

The instructor glanced at Sterling. Sterling nodded.

"Go," the instructor said.

I charged. Elian's eyes tracked my movement. He didn't move. I closed the distance—five feet, three feet—

My left foot caught on my right. I pitched forward, arms flailing, and slammed face-first into the mat.

Laughter. Rio doubled over, wheezing. Zali grinned, blood still on her chin. Elianstood where he'd been, hands at his sides.

I pushed myself up. Looked down. My shoelaces were tied together.

"Precision," Elian said. "Not force."

The instructor dismissed us at 1800. We shuffled back to the barracks, guards trailing behind. My face burned. My hands ached. I wanted to hit something.

The guards locked the door behind us. I paced to the far wall, then back, then to the wall again.

"Sit down," Zali said. "You're making me dizzy."

I didn't sit. I needed to move. To think.

Footsteps in the corridor. Voices. I stopped. Pressed my ear to the door.

"—Protocol Omega—"

General Sterling's voice. Clipped. Controlled.

"—assets are unstable. If they can't be controlled—"

Another voice. Younger. Asher Cole.

"—liquidation is the only option. Can't risk them going rogue."

"Agreed. Give them seventy-two hours. If they don't show progress, initiate the protocol."

Silence. Footsteps fading.

I stepped back from the door. My hands were shaking.

Zali sat up. "What?"

I turned to face them. Elian watched me. Rio stopped humming. Lumi looked up from where she sat on her cot, eyes red.

"They don't want soldiers," I said. "They want lab rats. And when the experiment fails, they will flush us like nothing."