Part II

Zhaan's words were a death toll. "I can ease her pain for the time being, but I make no guarantees about her future. The PeaceKeepers are far better equipped for this sort of thing."  

"Trust me," Aeryn said, "anything you can offer is better than the PeaceKeeper solution. Do whatever you have to." Then, in a softer tone, "Please." 

"Of course."  

While Zhaan prepared for the procedure, Aeryn went to fill the girl in.  

"Cadet?"  

"Officer!" Neesha jumped to attention. "Am I to remain aboard this Leviathan or will I return to my unit?"  

Aeryn considered this. "I'm going to leave that up to you."  

The girl thought over the question more seriously than John would have expected for her age. Finally, "I'd like to stay here, Officer, if I can. You yell less than my instructor."  

He grinned. A child’s reasoning. 

"I think that's a wise choice,” Aeryn agreed. “Now, you are rather sick, you know that?"  

Neesha nodded.  

"Zhaan thinks that she can help you. You would need to have an operation.” At the girl’s puzzled look, she elaborated. “Um, that would mean that you will be sedated and Zhaan will try to fix what is wrong with your body.” 

"Does it hurt?" Neesha asked.  

"No. Don't worry; you're a soldier. We face fear and defeat it! Right?" Aeryn asked like a football coach pumping up the team. 

"Right!" the girl barked, her pride stirring up her courage. "I'm ready."  

Aeryn nodded brusquely. "Zhaan?"  

As the Delvian approached with a syringe, Neesha’s pride became insufficient to conquer her fears.  

"It will put you to sleep," Zhaan explained.  

"A basic sedative," Aeryn clarified. "Same thing the Medtechs use on the Command Carrier."  

It took a few minutes of coaxing and soothing, but the two women got Neesha sedated and prepped for surgery. Aeryn did not leave her side until Zhaan ordered them all out. 

Rygel, uninterested by the current drama, which appeared to have little to no impact on the rest of his day, returned to his quarters. The other crewmembers drifted to Command to wait and keep busy.  

"Hey, Aeryn?" Crichton asked as they took their places about the room. "Now that we've got some free time, maybe you can explain a few things to us."  

"Like why you brought that child on board," D'Argo said.  

"And what Neesha called herself," John searched for the word. "A Defector?"  

"Defective," she corrected him, a little absently. She leaned back on a console and regarded them each in turn, her voice turning very serious. "Defectives are one of the PeaceKeepers' best-kept secrets. As you know, genetic purity and perfection are very important to them. Every child conceived goes through what medtechs call the 'genetic sieve': a scan that checks the fetus' genome for mistakes or foreign traits. Most children are healthy Sebaceans that are left to gestate and become PeaceKeepers. Fetuses that have defects or are hybrids are...eliminated."  

D'Argo snarled at this. John knew he was thinking of Jothee. Thank the gods that Lo'Laan had not been a PeaceKeeper.  

"Such occurrences are very rare, as the bloodlines are strong now. Rarer still, an abnormal fetus will get by the Sieve. The children's defects can show up any time from birth to adolescence. They are called Defectives. One or two show up every generation. Neesha is such a child."  

"What do they do to these kids?" Crichton asked, though he suspected he knew.  

"When the defect is discovered, they are separated from their unit and taken to a hidden room in the Med center, like where we found Neesha, so that their deaths, when they come, are not public. News of such weakness would give enemies like the Scarrans an advantage if they ever figured out how to use it."  

The three males absorbed this repulsive information. At last D'Argo looked hard at Aeryn.  

"Wait. If this information is surrounded in such secrecy, how do you, know about it? You’re just an Officer."  

"Oh, I'm not supposed to," she answered, "but I'm a bit closer to the situation than they knew." 

She looked away. D'Argo and Crichton sighed. It was catharsis time and someone had to play rodeo clown and draw Aeryn out. They threw a quick round of Rock, Paper, Scissors. For once, John lost. D'Argo grinned as John decided what approach to take.  

In the end, he went straight to the heart. "Well, I guess that makes sense. It’s best to weed the kids out before anyone gets too attached to them.” 

D'Argo's eyes widened at John's audacity, but John knew he had said the right thing. If it hurt him to say, it would probably catch Aeryn’s attention. 

To his surprise, John suddenly found himself impaled by her flashing gray glare. "Do you really think that?!" she demanded. "They're just children, Crichton! They're going to die and there’s nothing anyone can do! It could have been you, or me, or someone YOU cared about!" 

"Whoa! Aeryn, easy!" He backpedaled. That explosion was above and beyond what he had expected from the usually cold, calm woman and he was beginning to worry for his safety when she stopped leaning on the console.  

D'Argo, though, noticed her emphasis on the last phrase. "Who did you lose?" he asked softly.  

Aeryn looked at him in surprise, realizing they had tricked her secret out of her. She sighed heavily, resignation steeping her voice. "It was one of my fellow cadets. I met him when we were about seven cycles old after an unusual night…” 

# 

Cadet Aeryn Sun couldn’t imagine a day much worse than this. Last night seemed but a dream. Her mother had visited out of the blue and revealed to Aeryn that she had loving parents and was special. The news was so unbelievable that she figured it had to be the result of an over-aged stock of foodcubes. 

At least she had until one of her fellow cadets, who had been awakened by the intrusion, brought it up at the evening meal. She had taken his teasing as cadets were trained to until he made a derogatory remark about her mother and a barrack full of male Vorcarian bloodtrackers. She then proceeded to beat him to a bloody pulp until the Instructor pulled her off him. Having not seen how it started, he made Aeryn out to be the instigator and sentenced her to an extra duty session during her break. In no mood for such treatment, she had made the huge mistake of mouthing off to him and using a word cadets were not supposed to know. 

Never before had she received such a beating, even during pain tolerance sessions. She lay in her cot trying not to cry when the others returned for the night and the Instructor turned out the lights. 

“Psst! Sun!” a voice whispered when the adult left. 

She recognized the voice as that of the male in the next cot. Rolling over carefully, she faced him, still sniffling. “What?” 

“I’m sorry you got beaten. It wasn’t your fault.” 

She managed a smile. “Thank you.” 

He grinned back. “And Ixol sure looked funny with his eye all puffy!” 

They giggled. The Instructor peered in and they feigned sleep. At last, the man left again. 

“Your name’s Roan, right?” Aeryn asked. 

“Right. I didn’t think anyone knew my name. I know I don’t stand out much.” 

Aeryn thought back. The only things she remembered him getting singled out for were reprimands. He was a poor fighter with little stamina and less muscle. Most of his days were spent hitting the mats. The other cadets usually ignored him, figuring he would be dropped to tech level. 

“Well, I hear you score well in field medicine.” 

He blushed, clearly grateful for even that hint of praise. “No one seems to care about that, though, if you can’t fire a rifle or knock someone down.” He sighed, then looked up nervously. “Um, I’ll understand if you say no, but would you help me fight better?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah. You rarely get yelled at in class and you don’t fall down. I’d make it up to you.” 

She thought. “Okay, I guess so. Will you help me with field medicine?” 

“Deal!” he agreed eagerly. 

They clasped each other’s forearms to seal it and settled under their blankets before they woke anyone up. 

“Sun?” 

“Mmm?” 

“Your mother seems very nice.” 

She smiled. “Thank you.” 

# 

The next few weekens passed quickly. Roan made sure she kept up in the medical work and she pressed him to learn the skills of hand-to-hand combat. Though Aeryn picked up the techniques he showed her fairly well, Roan still could not keep up with the other cadets. He simply was not as strong as most boys his age, though he was quicker. Aeryn tried everything she knew to toughen him up and built his muscles, but he showed little progression. 

One afternoon, in frustration and nearing a fight, they agreed to work separately. Roan ran through the routine of punches and holds that Aeryn had set for him, cursing each time he messed up. Near tears, he looked over at his friend. She was performing a smooth martial arts style routine as the females were taught.  

Due to differences in size and muscle distribution, males and females learned different styles of fighting. Males were taught to use upper body strength and superior mass to their advantage. Females relied on agility, speed, and lower body strength. 

Roan watched in fascination and, on a whim, began performing the routine with her. His movements were a bit awkward, but did a passable job. 

Aeryn noticed him and frowned. “What are you doing?” 

“What you were doing. I like it. Will you teach me how to do that?” 

She balked. “But--those are female moves! What would the Instructor say?!” 

Roan shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it would be worse than what I get anyway. Come on! I’m tired of being thrown around. Please?” 

She fidgeted nervously. She had never broken a rule in her life, except for her outburst that one morning. There was no rule directly stating that males could not use female moves; it was just unheard of. 

Aeryn looked into his pleading eyes. She did not like seeing him get beaten either. With a heavy sigh she consigned herself to this violation of protocol. 

“Fine, I’ll teach you. Just, use this as a last resort, okay? Don’t show anybody and keep learning the male moves anyway.” 

“Alright. Can you teach me that kick you did there?” 

“Yeah. Watch.” 

For the next arn, Aeryn taught Roan roundhouse kicks, feints, and several variations on the Pantak jab. Once he figured out his balance, Roan was very good. With a bit of limbering up and more practice, he could become a worthy adversary. 

When they stopped at last, both were exhausted, but pleased. Roan had a new confidence that infected Aeryn and lifted her spirits. Maybe this would work after all. They drained their water bottles and cooled down in front of the air vents in the wall. 

“Could we keep doing practice like this?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Aeryn grinned at the boy. “Why not?” 

#

A weeken later, the Instructor addressed the entire class of cadets. 

“Now that MOST of you have mastered the moves of hand-to-hand combat, it is time you learned how to use them against a real opponent. I will pair you up with a member of your own gender and you will spar. Each cadet will attack and each will defend. The goal is to knock your opponent to the mat. The pairs are as follows: Avros and Srandor, Apz and Pengk, Borsin and Crais…” 

The teams paired off. Aeryn faced Cadet Sorvra, a girl with decent fighting skills, but not Aeryn’s match. Roan stepped onto his mat and found himself looking up at Cadet Ixol. He swallowed hard. 

The Instructor stood to the side, watching with an experienced eye. “Ready… Begin!” 

Aeryn issued and blocked a steady stream of punches and kicks. At slow microts, she managed to catch a glimpse of Roan’s progress. 

The small boy was trying his best, but his strength simply was not equal to Ixol’s. Roan was repeatedly beaten back, once hard enough to bruise his face. 

As he ducked, fingering the bruise, he remembered a time, weekens ago, when Ixol had worn a similar mark on his eye courtesy of Aeryn. His mind’s eye saw again the dark-haired girl crying in her cot that night and an unfamiliar fury rose in him. This would be worth it. 

He assumed the fighting stance Aeryn had taught him. Ixol looked a little confused, but pressed the attack. Roan blocked a punch and launched a sudden jab that caught the other boy in the shoulder. Ixol stared in shock, rubbing the area before resuming the fight. This time, he barely ducked a high kick. Baffled and now spitting mad, he lunged at Roan, sure his greater weight would assure him victory. Roan kept a cool head with the visualization tricks Aeryn had taught him. He grabbed Ixol’s arm and pulled, increasing the momentum, and let the Sebacean bullet roll over his hip and land hard on the mat. 

The room was silent, most of the cadets having stopped to watch, shocked that little Roan could win his match. Aeryn beamed proudly as she fended off Sorvra absently. 

“Sir!” Ixol sputtered. “Can he do that? Those were female moves!” 

“And you’re the one lying on the mat. He caught you off guard. Not every enemy will fight the way you anticipated. Be prepared for anything.” 

“Yes, sir.” Ixol mumbled. 

“As for you, Roan, you used an unprecedented technique to win there. Traditionally, we do not appreciate initiative in the ranks. It leads to chaos and lessens unity of the group. However, as you’ve seen, it is useful now and then. Good fight, Cadet.” 

Roan stood at attention, trying not to look as pleased as he was at the long-sought compliment. “Thank you, sir.” 

Aeryn was smiling without reservation when she felt her feet get swept out from under her. She slammed the mat and looked up to see Sorvra at the ready. 

“Sun, you must pay attention,” the Instructor scolded. “Keep your eyes on your opponent, not on your comrades. Gawking will get you killed in battle.” 

“Yes, sir,” she said sheepishly, hauling herself up to resume. 

After class, they met in the mess. Roan shook Aeryn’s hand enthusiastically. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” 

She grinned. “You won that fight, not me!” 

“I know, but I owe it to you. And see? The Instructor wasn’t mad that we broke the rules.” 

Aeryn realized that he had a point. “Well, what do you know?” 

# 

Over the next monen, the cadets perfected their fighting skills. Though Roan no longer had the element of surprise, he was unpredictable, switching between male and female styles. Pretty soon, other cadets incorporated a mixture of fighting styles into their matches, to the concern of their Instructor, who would have cracked down on this group to get them back to accepted fighting styles if they had not been performing so efficiently now. By the time he started them on co-ed sparring, they were each familiar with the execution and combating of the opposite gender’s moves. 

When he felt they were ready, the Instructor spoke to them as a whole again.  

“You all now have a decent understanding of hand-to-hand combat. However, one can gain as much information from observing a fight as from participating in it. For the next few solar days, I will pair up two cadets, they will spar, and the rest of you will watch. I shall be pointing out mistakes as I see them. Pay attention! Now, let’s begin.” 

The fights varied, some same-gender, some co-ed, so that the cadets were never sure what to expect. Throughout, the Instructor called out errors made and the cadets attempted to improve. 

Two females finished their fight, with one glaring up from the mat and the other rolling her shoulders smugly, and the Instructor checked the list. 

“Next, Roan and Sun.” 

Part 3