Waiting for Answers

“Opportunities are usually disguised by hard work, so most people don’t recognize them.” –Ann Landers—

Zormna Clendar stood, waiting impatiently next to the communications computer with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her ears were perked for any sign of the results for the last Adult Test, which would be sent to that access computer that day. Her dark green eyes were keen on it. She had passed her sixth year mark[1], equal to that of twelve Parthan years, give or take a few months. This was the bare minimum age for anyone to take the Adult Test. Most who tried so young failed. But Zormna was not counting on failure. She was the most advanced cadet in the Surface Patrol on Arras, and failure was not a something she experienced often.

She stood in the main corridor of the Alpha District, watching other Surface Patrol officers pass by on duties, though in reality she was impatient for the results. She had to know.

Zormna let her mind wander as she stood, looking about the inner chamber near the entrance hall of the Alpha District. It was home for her. Comfortable, organized and safe. However, with adulthood, it would be time to leave home—and most graduated cadets did not stay in the Alpha District. They either reentered the Arrassian underground city proper, the middlecity usually, or they joined the Patrol full time then shipped into one of the other districts, such as the Gamma or Epsilon.

Leaving home.

A shiver ran through her as she remembered the day she left her uncle’s for the orphan training school. Before that she recalled when her parents were still alive how they talked about leaving home for some place called the U.S. where her mother had an aunt. Both times there were hopes for a better life for her. But each time she really just wanted to stay in the home that she was in. It wasn’t too different now. She really didn’t want to leave Alpha, but she heard that there were more opportunities in the other districts, places to grow, to become even better.

Thinking of her parents caused tightness in her chest, and she tried to shake it off. Unlike so many children when traumatized, Zormna had a vivid recollection of the early days of her life. It was as if her trauma had created a magnifying glass in her memory so she could never forget it—not anything, including the sounds of their massacre. She could still see her parents’ faces before her eyes as if she had just seen them that morning. She could still hear their voices in her ears as if they had just spoken to her. Zormna even remembered the last things they said to her. “Don’t say a word or they will find you.”

She shuddered and glanced across the corridor at the blank control panels where two men in blue uniforms men crossed Zormna’s vision. She blinked at them, her thoughts returning back to the present. Blue was not a common Surface Patrol color, only worn by the Kevin in fact. She narrowed her eyes at the figures, recognizing them for what they were—P.M.s.

Zormna scowled at the two men, watching them as they continued to walk right up to the compound gatekeeper, Alea Dezbah. How they got this far was not a mystery. Alpha District allowed certain People’s Military officers to enter the compound but only as far as the front gate. They were perhaps the only Surface Patrol district to do so. The others would not have opened their doors for them at all, though in the recent years the People’s Military had been badgering the district leaders to let them in without the Kevin’s approval. Right away the Alea at the gate questioned the two men, taking their identi-cards to check them, though his real purpose was to keep them out as long as possible.

From where Zormna stood she had a good view of their conversation. It had something to do with a computer, but then most requests from the People’s Military did, if it did not involve escaped prisoners or fugitives from the law. On most normal occasions, the Surface Patrol minded their own business while the People’s Military went about theirs. Most in the Patrol would rather spit on a P.M. than talk to him anyway, especially since most orphans were orphaned because of the P.M.s. But the one unfortunate problem with being a Surface Patrol officer was that occasionally the solider had to work with the People’s Military. It was twisted kind of alliance, one they had to keep to in order to maintain their status under the government. 

“Her! She’s a cadet! We want Alea Arden!” She heard one of the People’ Military officers cry out.

Zormna perked up her ears. Now that she was included in the conversation it did not seem wrong to eavesdrop.

“Zormna happens to be a fine engineer. She can reprogram that computer in no time. Alea Arden could do no better,” she heard the Alea say.

One of the P.M.s growled as the conversation dropped down to a hush again.

P.M.s—scrapes, she really hated them. If it had been left up to her, the Surface Patrol would split from them entirely.

Her best friend Cadet Salvar came up from behind.

“What’s up?” Salvar glanced over to where she was looking, his blue eyes only mildly curious.

“P.M.s,” she said, and then leaned back against the wall.

Salvar took a harder peek at the men and shrugged. He then peered up his red head at the communications computer with a smirk.

“You’re waiting for the results, aren’t you,” he said with a grin on his freckled face. “Don’t worry, Zormna. You can take the test again with me.” His voice cracked.

Zormna sniffed. “I won’t be taking it again.”

“Aw, Zormna, you can’t quit. You will end up an impaired

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 26.02.2018
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7875-1

Alle Rechte vorbehalten