(rises from the smoke like Mushu) I liiiive! Has it really been 6 years since I last updated? Yikes. If you've favorited, followed, and/or reviewed before, feel free to reread from Chapter 1 because it's been ages since I updated, plus I made some slight changes.

Also: want to read a fic all about Colonel Radec? I have one in-progress called The Hounds of Helghan.

Flight of the Phoenix (5)
Initiation

Mother had let me keep in touch with Pitru and Viglo while they were away training, provided that I didn't interfere with their routine. It was hard to find the right time to contact them. Those two had a lot on their plate. Still, I was determined to have them be the first to know about my life-changing decision. Needless to say, they had a hard time swallowing it down at first.

From my handheld holo-viewer, Pitru gawked at me. "You're joining the special forces? Commander Saric actually said yes?"

I couldn't help but laugh at his shocked expression. "I can be very persuasive."

Viglo, unlike his older twin brother, merely shrugged. "It's no surprise to me. She is a Visari, after all."

Pitru sighed and shook his head. "There's no turning back now, huh? You won't be on the field anytime soon, so I guess Vig and I don't have to worry...yet."

"I'll be fine, guys," I assured them. "I can take care of myself. I'll manage somehow."

Saric arrived at the Visari estate to collect me, though he came sooner than I had expected. "Before you relocate to the boarding school, I need to escort you to Dr. Kratek's laboratory for an important appointment," he told me. "I commissioned her to build a prosthetic arm for you."

I tried to feign grateful surprise. "Happy to hear that, sir." He shouldn't know that I had known beforehand from eavesdropping. I wanted his impression of me to be as spotless and glowing as possible.

Saric took great measures to make the leave from the shelter of my house as discreetly as possible. I was given oversized clothes that would hide my lack of a right arm and make me pass for a teenage boy. And of course, I was given a respirator to hide my face.

This laboratory that I had to be escorted to was closer to the coast. Even through the respirator, I could taste the sea salt from the air. A squad of infantry troops accompanied us as we entered the facility. People in white lab coats with clipboards and loaded platform trucks milled around to go about their business, paying no attention to me and Saric as we passed through. We went around the corner where the sign above read "Robotics Division."

Saric and I were led into a room with a raised gurney and a woman mulling over holograms of prosthetic schematics hovering before her. At the sound of our arrival, she turned to face us.

"Just in time," she said, and extended a gloved hand to me. "Dr. Sonja Kratek, at your service."

I took her hand. "And I am—"

A tight grip on my shoulder from behind startled me and cut me off. Saric shook his head and I kept my mouth shut. Right, the troops were still in the room with us. I couldn't just give out my name when everyone was supposed to think I was dead.

Dr. Kratek nodded at the troops, a wordless command for them to leave. Once they filed out, she slid the windows of the room shut with a remote in her other hand. "I know who you are," she told me. "I'm one of the few entrusted by the Chancellor about your identity. You've been my latest project for the past few weeks. I am eager to test my work in progress on you before I finalize it." She sounded cool and crisp, and her gaze behind the transparent specs was just as sharp and scrutinizing, making me feel like hiding in these baggy clothes did no good.

In her late twenties, I guessed. She wore no respirator, so her pale face and braided blonde hair were exposed.

Dr. Kratek motioned at me to sit in the chair, and as I did, with another click of her remote she raised a platform bearing a prosthetic limb meant to replace my right arm. "I was sent measurements beforehand of your left arm to implement the same dimensions to your artificial right. I've no doubt that it'll fit you. The questions to address now involve comfort and connection."

She motioned at me again to take off my top. Goosebumps erupted along my skin as I stripped off layers down to a short-sleeved shirt exposing the stump of my right arm. With the cold, sterile air of the room, and thinking of how the prosthetic would attach to me, I couldn't help a shudder.

"Will it hurt?" I asked.

The most fleeting amusement flickered in Dr. Kratek's eyes. "If it hurts, then I consider it not having my job done properly."

"Don't let her age fool you," Saric said. "She may be young, but she is at the forefront of neuroscience and nanotechnology. She made several breakthroughs in providing painless therapy for radiation exposure and cancer. Her recent venture into prosthetics is just as successful. Even the Vektans on the other side make use of her theories and treatments when she published her research. There is nothing to worry about, Maya. You are in quite capable hands."

The corners of her lips twitched upward. "You flatter me, Anton."

"I am merely stating facts, Sonja."

The oddest feeling stirred in the base of my chest. Jealousy. I wanted to impress Saric with my performance in the special forces, and here was Dr. Kratek not only having earned the commander's respect, but they were on first name basis. I wanted to reach that same level of respect with Saric someday. Ideally soon.

"It's thanks to you that I'm alive and kicking to this day," Saric went on. "Your treatment cured me of the radiation sickness I've had since I was a boy. I'm still looking for ways to repay you."

"You owe me nothing," she insisted with a small wave of her hand.

Dr. Kratek didn't make eye contact with me as she busied herself over looking between my stump and the shoulder end of the prosthetic. Still, her quiet amusement was directed at me next. "I'm not my father. I have no plans to hurt you."

My cheeks warmed. I felt embarrassed for admitting my fear. Even if it had been a few years since the festival, the sensitivity and phantom pain that came with losing an arm continued to haunt me. Being taught in the knowledge of important people and events surrounding Helghan, I knew about Colonel Vyktor Kratek, an utterly ruthless man who had no qualms about exploiting a bioweapon for the sake of conquest and genocide. He was cruel even to his own people, subjecting innocent Helghast to his inhumane experiments. Just as bad was my grandfather's support of that scheme.

Dr. Kratek seemed to make it her life's work to reject her father's cruel deeds, and use her intellect to help others, not destroy them. I thought about my own path to redemption for my family. If Dr. Kratek could put herself to good use, then so will I.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't even noticed her attaching the prosthetic right arm to my shoulder. It didn't even hurt, like she had promised. A peculiar tingling sensation ran just under my skin, but nowhere near pain.

"All right, here's the fun part," Dr. Kratek said as she took a step back and held up her right hand. "I need to make sure the neural wiring's working properly. Try to copy the gestures I'm making."

I followed her in counting with my fingers, making the okay sign, a fist, even flipping a bird. I grinned at that. I liked Dr. Kratek's sense of humor. She had me move on to bigger gestures, like flexing my fake wrist, my elbow, and finally where flesh and machine met at my right shoulder. The limb felt light yet sturdy, the same weight as my left arm.

Dr. Kratek nodded with approval. "Seems to move just fine. Nice and smooth. You seem to like the feel of it well enough."

"I do like it," I said. "Am I going home with it today?"

"Not just yet, I'm afraid. I've got to make a few more tweaks and adjustments before I send the final product to you. The boarding school you'll be at isn't too far from the lab, actually." She pulled out a tablet. "I'm giving you my contact information so you can inform me of repairs you may need. I know what you're getting into, so that right arm can weather a decent amount, but in case you put a dent in it, you know who to call." Amusement tinged what she said next: "Your mother will pay for the damages, so try not to be too rough with it."

"No promises," I almost said, but I kept quiet and just nodded.

I hardly got any sleep the night before my first day of training. I tossed and turned in my blankets. This might just be my last night sleeping in a warm and comfortable bed. After that, I would be leaving my family's house for who knew how long. Maybe I'll never see it again. As far as my mother was concerned, I was no longer a Visari. My mind reeled from countless questions. What kind of people would be training with me? Would we become the best of friends? Or the worst of rivals? What would it feel like when I actually had to kill someone? Will I ever be ready to take a life?

Early in the morning, there was no show or sentimental farewells as I left my family's house. My mother had already left for a meeting with Vektan politicians. Saric came to pick me up, and I simply followed him to the school. I wore a respirator to cover my face, and wore the scarf from the twins over my head to cover my hair.

The boarding school looked nothing special, only similar in structure and color to the buildings surrounding it. I think that was the point. Training for covert operations had to be done in a place that didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

"The other cadets...will they know who I am?" I asked Saric.

"Yes. They are sworn to secrecy. Don't worry about having a cover here." Then he went on: "Another instructor will be here to oversee your class. I'll see you later during the day."

I saluted to him in reply before we parted ways and I headed to my first class.

I knew that I was just starting, so I needed classroom education before I could do actual fieldwork. Theory before practice. Still, the thought of sitting in class all day, taking notes and reading books did not appeal to me. The tomboy in me wanted to hold a gun and shoot stuff. But that would have to wait.

I thought I would be the earliest one in. Turned out I wasn't. One boy sat in the front row. He looked my way when he heard the door slide open. Maybe a year or two older than me, the boy sat straight and tall in his chair, with calloused hands folded in front of his chest. He looked unusually burly and sturdy for a teenager. His face, rugged and serious, seemed even more so with his deepset grey eyes and thin lips. The classroom light glowed on the fringes of his short, unkempt brown hair. He had a light stubble, making him look more of a man than a boy.

I was a politician's daughter. I knew how to be confident and presentable. I boldly walked up to him and tried to be friendly. "Hello there. I guess we'll be training together, huh?"

"You're from the Visari family."

Whenever people said that, most of them would stare at me in awe, or some would glower at me like I was the worst thing that ever happened since the Terracide. This guy fell into the latter.

I got defensive. "Yes, I'm a Visari. What about it?"

"That's all I need to know," he snapped.

Well, that was cold. Not to mention rude. I mean, I didn't join the special forces just to make friends, but what the hell? This guy was supposed to be a colleague, and he'd make a bad one. I wanted to say something snarky, but I restrained myself and pretended it didn't hurt me. I had a feeling I would have to do that a lot during my time here.

I took a seat. I shivered as soon as my legs touched the cold, hard steel underneath. I looked around. The classroom was furnished in typical Helghast fashion: uniformly gray steel with hints of red and white from banners. My eyes fell on the boy again, and when he glared back at me I quickly turned away.

Minutes passed by and neither of us said a word. I mustered up my courage again. Or stupidity, because I might just make him even angrier.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Ramshar Fen."

The boy named Ramshar Fen simply sat there, boring his sullen eyes to the floor. I wondered what I ever did to make him feel that way. Was he always such a stick in the mud?

A few minutes later, more cadets came in to join us. Three boys. I wasn't so open this time. They might be just as mean as Ramshar. I looked up to see the newcomers and I tensed.

"Hello there," the bald boy said to me. "Are you cold?"

I heard no mockery in his tone. He seemed genuinely friendly and concerned. I visibly relaxed and cracked a tiny smile. "N-no, I'm not cold. Just nervous. First day, you know."

"Oh, I know. I'm nervous too. Don't worry, we're in this together." He nodded his head at me. "I'm Tandrake Shaw. Pleased to meet you." He gestured to the heavyset boy next to him. "This is Tormol Yund."

The boy named Tormol nodded at me, but didn't say a word. He didn't seem unfriendly, just very quiet.

"I'm a family friend of his," Tandrake said. "We've known each other since we were kids. He lost his whole family to the Terracide...he's been mute ever since."

The boy standing behind Tandrake and Tormol was tall and lean, with a narrow face and shrewd eyes. He stepped forward and I was surprised when he saluted to me. "Layton Cobar, at y'service, m'lady."

Surprise replaced my usual courtesy. "H-hello. Just call me Maya." I ventured asking the question nagging at me: "Do you happen to be related to Colonel Tendon Cobar?"

Layton beamed at me. "The very same. I'm his grandson." He seemed quite pleased that I mentioned his infamous grandfather. "It's an honor to meet the granddaughter of Scolar Visari."

Like Ramshar, Layton had a heavy Helghast accent, but he sounded much more light and jovial. Though Layton's grandfather was known as the White Death—bloodthirsty on the battlefield, a psychopath through and through—Layton seemed quite amiable, to my surprise. I knew that I would get along with him easily.

Five people, including me. That was it? That was the whole class? Could the special forces program really be that self-selective? The idea that we were the proud and the few never crossed my mind. Overconfidence was the quickest way to get kicked out. I just hoped I could keep up with the boys. Every one of them looked formidable and a force to be reckoned with.

I came in here cold, with absolutely no background in weapons training or espionage. I just knew that I was pretty damn good at hiding.

No one would appreciate being called something like "half-breed." I'd be lying to myself if I said it never had an effect on me. It did hurt. I just got better at hiding that over time as "half-breed" practically became my second name. Until now, I've always been treated with respect. Well, I've had people whisper about me, but I've never been blatantly insulted before. Mother was right. My Visari lineage did little good in a school for soldiers. I was on my own now. I had to rely on brains, brawn, and skill if I wanted to survive.

The first class involved learning about the history of covert operations. The next class taught by Saric involved the theories of tactics, what to do in hypothetical scenarios. Other classes involved practicing with firearms and close quarters combat.

The boys wouldn't go easy on me just because I was a girl. I'd be dead meat if I came in expecting otherwise. I did well with firearms, thanks to prior secret practice sessions with the twins. Close quarters combat, on the other hand, came the hardest to me. Dr. Kratek had sent me the prosthetic arm in time, so it wasn't like I fought with one arm. Still, I was in for a rude awakening.

Saric told my class that we are to treat each other as equals, but biology didn't make us equals. The boys were taller and stronger than me. Ramshar seemed to take fiendish pleasure in beating me black and blue in the sparring ring.

I went to bed aching all over, my muscles screaming in protest with every move I made. Fatigue from the first day plunged me into an effortless sleep.

I never met my grandfather before. I had only seen him in pictures, and heard him from old broadcasts New Pyrrhus would proudly display all over its buildings. To see him now, face to face in my dreams...it was a bit unsettling.

He didn't look too happy to see me. Then again, even in portraits and films, I had never seen him smile.

"Is this what's left of my legacy?" he asked. "A half-breed military dog for a granddaughter?"

I tried to stand up to him, even as he loomed over me. "I only want what's best for our people."

The late emperor of Helghan turned his back to me and walked away. "You accuse your mother of being a coward, but aren't you the same? You only joined the army so you could run away from your duties."

"No, you're wrong," I shouted after him. "I belong here!"

He didn't look over his shoulder. "You lie to yourself, coward."

"I'm not running away!"

I jerked back to reality in a cold sweat. I shuddered and tugged the blanket tighter to my chest. The boarding school had no windows to look out from or throw open to let in fresh air. Unable to take the dark oppression of my bedroom, I threw on a shirt to cover my tank top and went outside. I breathed in the cool, clean air, trying to calm my nerves. To my surprise, I found I wasn't alone. Ramshar stood in the courtyard, leaning against a pillar.

At the sound of my faltering footsteps, he looked up and scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you."

He scoffed in derision and returned his gaze to the tiled floor. "I don't like that this place has no windows. Couldn't get a wink of sleep in there."

"Me neither." But I didn't elaborate. This guy had absolutely no business hearing about the dream I just had.

"But really, Visari, what are you doing here? What are you trying to prove?"

I squared my shoulders. "I don't have to tell you anything."

Disgust dripped from his voice. "Typical high-class Helghast. Think you're above the rest of us common folk. You're dead wrong if you think you can waltz your way into the special forces. I'll make sure you get booted out of here and you run back to your nice, big house and your chancellor mum."

Loathing for him bubbled up inside me like hot acid. "I'm not going anywhere. And I don't think I'm above you. As far as my mother's concerned, I'm no longer a Visari, and I don't have a home to go back to. So you can take that high-class hate and shove it up your ass."

I left him with that, and as I retreated from the courtyard, Ramshar hurled no more insults my way. I could feel his gaze boring into my back, but I didn't look to see what kind of look he had on his face.