LITMIR.BIZ

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the passages and then crossed the grounds to another of the low-lying prefab buildings, Raphel kept up a constant stream of chatter about the facility. From what Nuri learnt in the ten or so minutes it took them to arrive at the clinic, this was a boot camp of sorts. Not all the Chosen would be selected to stand for the emergence. Only the best would have that honour, once they passed two winnowings. After all, the avatar of a star-jumper would have to be part-captain, part-diplomat and deal with whatever else the galaxy could throw at them, be it outsmarting pirates or negotiating a trade route through contested space.

      Nuri grew dizzy trying to imagine all these scenarios. Who was she, a runner and thief, to even consider that she might cope? They passed recruits who were training, and they all looked so fit, well-muscled and … efficient. Next to them, she was a scrawny, pale and undersized thing, barely past her twelfth or thirteenth year, if Vadith’s pronouncement about her age was true. Even he wasn’t entirely sure.

      “Here we are,” Raphel said as the door slid open and they were admitted to the clinic.

      She was made to sit on a chair that reclined so far back she ended up staring at the ceiling, while technicians came in and fussed over her. They stuck needles into her to draw blood and tissue samples. Scanning devices whirred and hummed as the AI assessed whatever it needed to. Nuri didn’t ask. She scrunched her eyes shut during the worst of it, and tried to ignore the muttering of the technicians as they came back for a second and then a third round of tissue samples.

      “What’s up?” Nuri eventually asked Raphel, who’d sat next to Nuri the entire time.

      “It’s your DNA makeup, luv,” Raphel whispered. “They really haven’t seen anything quite like you.”

      “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

      “It means you’re special.” He actually winked at her.

      Try as she might, Nuri couldn’t see what was funny about it, and she was entirely too glad when this part of the routine was done.

      There it was – she was space trash. The technicians knew it, didn’t have to elaborate. Only half human and not quite enough of anything else. She could have looked in the mirror and told everyone that without having had all the tests done. There were dozens if not hundreds of humanoid races out in the galaxy, and it was hardly a surprise that another had popped out of a backwater solar system. Nuri had heard enough about how different races were often patrons for others, and how a sort of great-great-great-grandparent race had started it all – the fabled Progenitors, which no one had ever found. But it was all science and history stuff, and she’d never had a chance to learn about it properly. Maybe now she’d be able to … That would be awesome.

      Nuri was sent to yet another room where a Heran woman dressed all in white injected her with a bunch of stuff.

      “Never been vaccinated!” the technician exclaimed. “How you haven’t contracted half the bloody plagues out there, I don’t know!”

      Nuri tried to explain that she never really got sick, but Raphel whisked her off to another room where an ancient human male shaved her hair to the scalp. She had to give up all her jewellery as well – every earring, nose ring, lip ring and even her belly-button ring.

      When she protested, Raphel demonstrated what might happen if someone accidentally punched her in the face. Besides, he reminded her, after the emergence she was welcome to put all the jewellery back in. But he couldn’t tell her when the nymph would emerge. It could be tomorrow, two weeks from now, or even in six months. The only reason they knew it would be soon was that there were four star-jumpers currently in orbit, and communication was passing between the nymph and the vessels.

      Then it was time for her implant.

      Now this made her nervous.

      The one mark of a Citizen was a legal implant, which meant she could use AR and access the Net without relying on an external device. She’d be recognised on the system and have an identity beyond the numbers and facial recognition that logged everyone else, and generally only when they’d committed a misdemeanour. The event should have been marked with more fanfare, but instead she was made to sit on an examining bed while the J’Veth female quickly sterilised the area behind Nuri’s right ear.

      “Count to three,” the female said.

      “One – ouch!”

      The pain was brief before the area went cold and numb as the woman sprayed it with a topical analgesic. Her tentacles were feather light on Nuri’s skin while she was busy.

      “There, it’s done. Now let’s see if it works. If this is your first time, close your eyes.”

      Nuri did as she was told, and she felt … funny … for lack of better description. Like someone was opening their hand inside her head.

      “Now, you’re going to need to get into this slowly, so I suggest you stay in your dorm room for a while, and only handle the apps and functions you need for your training. Besides, there is no full Net access here.”

      The technician fiddled behind Nuri’s ear, which felt as if it had gone right into her skull, and there was a snick.

      “Now, open your eyes.”

      The room was there, as Nuri had expected, except there was a bar with buttons and scrolling text when she concentrated on a particular button. It was almost as if she was trawling the Net with a VR screen, except her home screen was superimposed over the real world. When she closed her eyes, it was as if the AR screen became the same as she’d expect with VR. Not that she’d done much VR. The other runners were always hogging the few sets they had at the Den.

      The technician showed her the library access (not set up yet) and her document-editing apps, but then Nuri started sweating, and her stomach turned over on itself, so the woman showed her how to turn off the implant.

      “Give it time to settle. Some folks do have a bit of AR sickness at first. Little bits every day. Stick with audio only at first if that’s better.”

      Nuri nodded, swallowing down her nausea, then listened to all the instructions about how to care for a new implant, and what she must and must not do for the first two weeks, and what signs she should be aware of if her body was rejecting the device.

      Raphel rose and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Done then?”

      The technician said, “No hitches, just a little AR sickness, but I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”

      Concern crinkled Raphel’s brow. “I’m sorry to hear that, luv. It happens to the best of us at first. Now, come, let’s go get your kit and go introduce you to your squad.”

      “My squad?” Nuri squeaked. No one had said anything about her being part of a team, and Raphel’s unrelenting cheerfulness was beginning to make her teeth grit.

      “Of course!” He smiled broadly. “They’re most probably dying to meet you.”

      Nuri thought that was highly unlikely.

      6

      The dormitories were a four-storeyed block right next to one of the sports fields, not far from the clinic. Grey, uninspired, with a pair of equally bland benches under the trees. The chilly afternoon air licked at Nuri’s too-naked scalp. The skin felt strange, like peach fuzz when she brushed her palm over the stubble.

      The doors hissed open, and Raphel guided her through a common area where a bunch of youngsters, all garbed in the same drab coveralls, were busy with their AR or chatting in small groups.

      Heads turned as they passed, and Nuri tried to hide her face behind the pile of gear she’d been given. The scent of detergent made her sinuses prickle. More gear than she’d ever owned at the Den.

      Raphel knew exactly where

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