Unspeakable, Part 15

They didn’t dare take much time to celebrate their improved fortunes. Before long, they were hearing scratching and scrabbling behind the walls, stalking around the sealed door.

They trained with weapons and hand-to-hand. Miles coached, irritably gesturing with trembling hands. He insisted they all move faster. Without speed, he said, they stood no chance.

Ivan, Sally, and Mander learned quickly, Ivan using grace and speed that belied his size, Sally’s movements fluid, and Mander, of course, reptilian. Sequoia was the real surprise.

She was reluctant to be observed training herself, though she watched and listened alertly. But Miles had a suspicion about her, and said frankly that he couldn’t take a chance that she be unprepared. So he pushed her, and she shuffled forward to spar with Ivan.

Her moves were somewhat crude, but Ivan was down on his back, wide-eyed, before they had time to whisper to themselves, she’s good! Behind her hair, Sequoia said nothing.

Shylock was the only one Miles didn’t insist on training. Shylock stayed in their room, and Miles stationed himself in the doorway, blocking anyone from entering with a grim determination.

For what he’d been through, Miles reflected, Shylock was doing quite well, thanks to Boy’s medical supplies, and also to Boy’s own advice over the radio.

They’d fallen into the habit of having long talks over the communicator, debating strategies. They both agreed the group’s odds against the creatures were not good. But they also knew Boy’s chances of convincing the council of danger and inhumane conditions were worse.

Boy’s best idea so far was to get inside the computer system somehow and forge orders sending the group to some fictitious outpost, and they could go where they wished.

Mulling this over, Miles watched Sally and Mander training with blades, and his heart sank. They and Sequoia wouldn’t stand a chance in the outside world. And Shylock was fragile.

But the truth was that he knew nothing of life outside the Academy. It was he who didn’t stand a chance, he who had only ever had one dream, one life: to be an operative.

It was his life that was over. But, he reminded himself, that was true either way. He glanced over his shoulder at Shylock dozing on the slab, eyes moving fitfully. But Shylock still had life to live.

Then he heard Connie’s voice saying it’s someone else’s turn as sentry,  my eyes are swimming in a pleading voice. Just for ten minutes?

Yeah, take a break, Miles said, wheeling himself clumsily forward. It’s your turn. Connie shot up in her hammock, gorgeous eyes wide. What? Are you crazy? The whole building will come down.

Not on the ground, Miles said, rolling his eyes. Hammock combat. Connie raised an eyebrow, and he couldn’t hold back a smile. Basically we’re going to play hot potato.

Connie looked even more skeptical. That’s not a real combat technique. Sequoia didn’t even look up as she said sure it is. It’s all about camouflage in this organization, isn’t it? No one will suspect you and your hammock, so you use it as a weapon. Literally. Basic stuff.

She glanced through her curtain of hair in the silence and they were all looking at her. Miles cleared his throat, said well, then, and gestured to the rest of the room with his shaking hand.

Sequoia looked at them all slowly, sitting as still as she possibly could. Ivan stepped up to her and extended his hand and she looked at him warily, then away.

Sequoia, Connie said, you don’t really think I can fight, do you? Sequoia glanced at her, and after a moment got up. You can, she said quietly. She pulled herself up. I’m going to need the hammock. Connie nodded, sharing a wide-eyed look with Sally as she moved into Miles’ lap.

For a moment Sequoia stood looking at the hammock, then heaved a sigh. She then sat down in the hammock, but didn’t even let it stop swinging before she began to move.

The muscles in her arms stood out round and firm as she grasped the edges of the hammock. Her legs were more intimidating than usual as they swung and pivoted up and around.

The others’ eyes widened as it became completely irrefutable that “hammock combat” was definitely a real thing. And Sequoia was very good at it.

When she was back on the ground, again trying to pull her feet in closer together, there was a moment of silence in the dungeon, such that they could hear the torches crackling.

Where...exactly did you learn that? Connie asked. Her hand was pressed against Miles’ chest, her golden eyes blinking. Sequoia twitched, her hair falling thicker around her face. Nowhere.

The silence continued. So how… Connie’s voice trailed off. Sequoia’s shoulder shrugged once. It takes practice with acrobatics, she said quietly. Which you have. Connie took a breath.

Miles, glancing at Connie’s hand on his chest, cleared his throat roughly. All right, he said. All right. So Sequoia and Connie have their assignments, then. Who’s up for sentry duty?

Mander raised his hand, still looking at Sequoia wonderingly. Miles looked at him skeptically, then at the others, all glancing between Sequoia and Connie. I think I’ll do it, he said.

Reluctantly the others went back to their work, and Miles edged around the hammock, where Connie was trying in vain to catch Sequoia’s eye, into the doorway of the ‘empty’ room.

He sat himself so that he could see the sealed door, and across into his room; if Shylock stirred or if anyone tried to bother him, Miles would know.