Fletcher woke the next morning to the same sad bedroom, a hollow feeling inside. He wasn’t sad or angry, just indifferent after getting some sleep. So what if his sister hated him for mysterious reasons? That wasn’t something he could exactly solve if she wasn’t willing to talk about things. And his dad was gone from the base entirely, leaving him without anyone.

  No. No wallowing.

  He was going to focus on enjoying the few days off he had before leaving for another round of training. Though now that he was all alone, he was reminded of just how much he missed Beam and Javier and Bren’it’p and Alcett. It was a weight he was convinced he would carry with him the rest of his life.

  With all the bent up stress from the day before, Fletcher decided the gym would be a good first stop for the day. He spent an hour and a half working out, doing both cardio and weights with the goal of maintaining his newly achieved six-pack.

  After that he went for a late breakfast at the cafeteria. After grabbing two plates of food, he was looking around the mostly empty tables and spied a familiar face—Jeric, sitting alone with his own tray of food.

  Taking a chance, Fletcher went to his friend.

  “Hey. Can I sit with you?” he asked, the experience a little too similar to what he first went through when he moved to Alcett as a kid and had to start his social life over.

  “I’m almost done,” Jeric answered. “And you still haven’t given my clothes back.”

  Since it wasn’t a “no,” Fletcher slid into the seat across from the half-[Bloodhound].

  “I’ll get them to you later today. But how are you doing? How have things been?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Jeric said.

  “That’s… good.” Fletcher grabbed his fork from his tray. “How’s Addy? She seemed to have fun the other night, but I didn’t get to talk with her much.”

  “She’s fine. She left for a mission this morning.” Jeric took another bite of bacon, not even looking at Fletcher as he chewed.

  “Did you go on any more missions while I was out? How did they go?” Fletcher didn’t care that Jeric wasn’t interested in talking. He wanted to at least pretend he still had a friend left on the base. Of course Addy also left on a mission. Stupid missions taking all the people he actually got along with away.

  “Fine.”

  “Cool. Good to hear.” Fletcher stabbed at the pale yellow eggs on his plate. He couldn’t believe he was actually thinking it, but he missed Hotshot training. That was physically painful more often than not, but this was worse. A lot worse. “So are you—”

  “Do we really have to keep doing this?” Jeric cut in.

  “No. I guess not,” Fletcher responded with a sigh.

  They are in silence. It was awkward, but it felt less weird than sitting alone, even after Jeric’s grumpy outburst. Then again, that was just who Jeric was now. It was a stark change from the reckless, loud kid Fletcher had grown up with.

  Jeric finished first and left with only a grunt in goodbye, and a few minutes later Fletcher finished his meal as well. After dropping his tray off at the dish station, he then made his way back to his room. Just as he was approaching his door, he found someone waiting in the hallway.

  “Ah, Fletcher. Good. I was worried I might have missed you,” Caesar said, running a hand through his thinning black hair.

  “Caesar. I didn’t expect to see you again,” Fletcher said. Or ever. What could his mom’s ex-boyfriend that he knew basically nothing about want with him?

  “Do you have a moment to chat?”

  “Sure. My room’s right there if that works, though it doesn’t have much by way of space.” He nodded to his door.

  “That will work fine,” the business man assured him.

  Fletcher scanned his finger to open the door and entered the tiny bedroom. He sat at the head of his bed and motioned for Caesar to sit at the foot. Just as his dad would have.

  Caesar cleared his throat. “Last night didn’t exactly end well.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” he replied.

  “Officer training is a big accomplishment. Congratulations,” the man continued, his accent a little more pronounced. Was Caesar nervous?

  “It doesn’t feel like I really accomplished anything, but thank you,” Fletcher said flatly. Surely there was more to Caesar’s purpose.

  “They don’t take just anyone to officer training. I assure you, it is a big deal.”

  “Well, clearly it’s a big deal to Nora, though for the life of me I don’t know why.” He stared at Caesar, sensing that his sister was the reason for the unexpected visit.

  Caesar glanced away. “Yes. It is a sensitive topic, as you discovered last night.”

  “I’m guessing you’re here to explain why.”

  He nodded. “Yes. If you’re willing to listen.”

  “Yeah. Of course. You obviously know her better than I do.”

  Caesar smiled at him. “Nora’s a good kid. I’m honored she considers me a father figure.” He took a deep breath. “But back to officer training. As you know, pilots are one of the most coveted careers within the military. The selection process happens every five to seven years, and if you miss it once, you don’t get another shot. They are exceptionally picky in their selection, and even something as minor as a history of too many broken bones can disqualify someone..”

  “Nora wanted to be a pilot,” Fletcher guessed.

  “Yes. In order to do that, one has to be an officer. She went into the Hotshot program right after her twentieth birthday at Hazel’s instance. The pilot program was opening for applications only nine months later. She excelled in the Hotshot program, and she was set for officer training immediately following.”

  “That would have put her on track for the pilot program.”

  “Hazel interfered. She put a delay on officer training for Nora, forcing her to spend seven months as a ‘grunt’ instead. Due to that, Nora missed the window for pilot applications. By the time the program opened again, she’d already been injured twice in the line of duty, and she was officially dismissed from the potential applicant pool. She lost her only shot at her dream due to that delay,” Caesar concluded.

  “So she’s upset that I’m going straight into being an officer when she didn’t get that chance.” Fletcher bit his lip. “I didn’t know. I was worried about telling because I thought she’d tease me. I didn’t know it would bring up such a sore memory.”

  “I assumed as much given how casually you mentioned it last night.” Caesar gave him a tight smile. “I just wanted to give you a proper explanation in hopes that will help you in apologizing to her and making things up between the two of you.”

  “Thank you, Caesar. I really appreciate it. I would never have been able to guess that was the problem.” Fletcher sighed, thinking about trying to talk to his sister again. Or his mom. He was not looking forward to fixing his relationship with Nora all over again, but he had to try. As for Hazel? That relationship was dead the moment he first laid eyes on his mother again, even after the brief night of connection when he was drunk. Not that he recalled all that much of it.

  Caesar ducked his head. “I care about Nora. I love her like my own daughter. I’m glad I could be of help.”

  “Can I ask you something else while you’re here?” Fletcher asked.

  He nodded.

  “Why did you and my mom break up? It sounds like it was pretty serious if Nora is that close to you.” It was an awkward question, but the entire situation involving Caesar was awkward.

  Caesar took a breath. “We reached a point in which our goals for life differed.”

  “As in…?” Surely he hadn’t expected Hazel to leave the military. It was obvious she cared a lot about her career.

  “I wanted to get married. And I wanted to make a push to get you and your father brought back in. I wanted to become an official family, and have my shot at being a father—or rather step-father..”

  “She wouldn’t do it?” Fletcher blinked in surprise.

  “She said Sebastian’s role was too important,” Caesar answered. “We argued quite a bit about it, but it became clear that our future paths diverged.”

  “Huh. Okay. Thanks for telling me. Sorry if it was uncomfortable to discuss.”

  Caesar smiled at him. “It is fine. It was a fair question. But I should be going. Goodbye, and good luck at training, Fletcher.”

  “Bye, Caesar.” Fletcher stepped over to the door with him, waving as the man departed. As the door slid shut once again, he plopped on his bed and contemplated what to do with the rest of his day.

  HIs father and Addy were gone, Jeric had proven to not be in the mood for talking, and Nora would definitely need a few days to cool off before he approached her to apologize. Hazel wasn’t an option to start with, so that left him with exactly no one to seek out.

  He could go shopping, but he had very little to spend. Nora was right that military salaries were crap, especially for recruits and newly minted privates. Working out was a good way to kill time, but he wanted to give his body a few more hours to rest before he went back to the gym, so that meant he could either twiddle his thumbs or read.

  Fletcher chose to read, even if it meant he was rereading one of the same three books he’d read multiple times over the past few months. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. Sighing for the millionth time in the past two days, he settled onto his bed with his book in hand, skimming the pages since he nearly had the words memorized at this point.

  Time passed, though not fast enough for his taste. Minutes crawled by as he pretended to enjoy reading, and he was grateful for a knock at his door, interrupting the tedious morning.

  Maybe Nora had miraculously decided to forgive him or at least give him the chance to talk things through. As Fletcher opened the door, he stiffened upon discovering a soldier he’d never seen before standing there.

  “Private Dixon,” the woman said. She was a sergeant, but he didn’t recognize her name, “Gonzalez.” She too was a Mixhuman, with a certain red tinge to her skin.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Fletcher straightened.

  “Follow me, Private. You’re scheduled for an interview with the CO in order to solidify your slot in officer training,” she explained.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sucked his cheeks. He was impressed with how prompt they were being about his interview, though he was a little nervous to have it sprung on him like this. The sergeant didn’t order him to change, so he supposed his fatigues would be good enough.

  He followed Gonzalez through the hallways of the base and up several flights of stairs to the offices of the higher up officials like what both his mother had. Not that he was worried about seeing her. Her doing the interview would be a serious breach of protocol.

  She took him through unfamiliar corridors and then motioned for him to stop outside a door with a name on the side he did recognize. After ringing the doorbell, the door opened, and she gestured for Fletcher to enter before following him inside.

  Behind the desk was a man with brown skin and buzzed black hair.

  “Major Simpson,” Fletcher gave him a salute. Of course it was still one of his mother’s lackeys doing this. And Simpson nonetheless. Couldn’t it have been anyone else? He still had a beef to pick with this guy after the way he was treated when he was first taken by the Mixed and met his mom. Not to mention the guy found him when he was blackout drunk two nights ago, and that was just embarrassing.

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  “Private. Take a seat.”

  Fletcher sat in the chair across from the man, his nerves increasing greatly. An interview with a stranger was stressful enough, but having it be Simpson—the man who found him when he was almost too drunk to remember his own name—made things so much worse.

  Simpson typed on his computer for another moment and then dug around in a drawer on his desk. He then set a small black box on the desk between them. “The interview will be recorded for the selection committee to review.”

  “So I’m not guaranteed acceptance into the officer program?” Fletcher asked.

  “You’re set for it as long as you pass this final interview.”

  He kept himself from smiling. He could always bomb the interview and then go back to being a grunt soldier. That would definitely piss Hazel off, more than probably anything else he could do. She expected him to have some big military career. He could see to it that that never happened.

  “As with all official interviews, this one will be conducted under the use of [Truth]. Do you understand?” Simpson glanced at him.

  “What?” Fletcher said. He’d never heard of that.

  “You will be put under the [Skill] known as [Truth] which will ensure that you answer each question truthfully. It’s more thorough than [Detect Lies] in this type of situation. Do you understand?” Simpson recited it as though he were reading it from a paper.

  “Can I say no?”

  “No. Sergeant, if you would.” The Major nodded to Gonzalez who was still in the room.

  She stepped forward and put her hands on Fletcher’s shoulders.

  He shrugged them off. “I didn’t agree to this.”

  “You don’t have to agree, Private. Consider this an order.” Simpson motioned to the woman again.

  Fletcher held his tongue as she put her hands on him once again. Deities, he hated being in the military and having this stupid superior structure. He missed when the only “higher up” he had to deal with was Principal Caston and his pettiness.

  “[Truth],” Gonzalez whispered from behind.

  A shiver went across Fletcher’s body, and he tensed up, uncomfortable with the idea that magic was being worked on him right then and there.

  “State your full name,” Simpson began.

  “Fletcher… D-d-d,” he sputtered. He knew he was supposed to say “Dixon,” but the name wouldn’t come out.

  The Major sighed. “Try again. Gonzalez is aware of the situation. And anyone who hears this will be as well.”

  “Fletcher Sebastian Anders.”

  “Good. Now confirm your birthdate.”

  “February tenth, 2070.” Fletcher didn’t fight that one.

  “Very good. Everything seems to be in order. Let’s start with the questions.” Simpson opened a file in front of him. “We’ll keep things easy at the start. What would you say your greatest strength is?”

  “I care about other people. I value each individual for their unique contributions,” he said. It was an answer like one he gave during his job interviews after graduating college. He truly believed that his general appreciation of other people, Humans and Unhumans alike, made him a better person in whatever capacity he was serving.

  “And what is your greatest weakness?”

  “Depends on who you ask.” Fletcher grinned at him. “A lot of people would say that it’s not hating Unhumans for their mere existence.”

  Simpson huffed. “Yeah. Sounds about right. Next question. What is your leadership philosophy?”

  This was another one that might as well come from a standard job interview, meaning he was well prepared to answer it. “I strive to create an inclusive environment where everyone is valued and given a role that compliments their unique skill sets.”

  “Why did you join the cause of the Mixed?”

  Fletcher chuckled. “Because it was that or spend the rest of my life in prison.”

  “You chose to join before your required enlistment date,” Simpson pointed out. “So I guess the better question is why did you join earlier rather than wait it out?”

  “I want to be able to protect people.” The words came out of Fletcher’s mouth before he even thought about the question. [Truth] forced him to speak without pause.

  “Which people?”

  “Vulnerable people. People who can’t protect themselves for one reason or another. Being Hexed shouldn’t be the equivalent of a death sentence,” he continued.

  Simpson nodded. “Final question. Is there any reason you shouldn’t be an officer in the Mixed Military?”

  Fletcher scoffed. “Yes. I don’t even fully believe in the cause of the Mixed.”

  “Explain.”

  “I detest violence. I believe it should be a last resort. The Mixed kill innocents in order to make a statement, but I find that fundamentally wrong. War will never bring peace.”

  “An interesting take given you personally killed two people before ever joining.”

  “That was different,” he argued.

  “How so?” Simpson raised an eyebrow.

  “It was self-defense.”

  “Oh, so you sneaking into the Unhuman facility and bumping into a soldier there. That was self-defense?” the Major asked.

  “I—well…” Fletcher was at a loss. “I was there to help a friend.”

  “And in order to help someone who needed it, someone else had to die.”

  “I thought this was an interview, not a philosophy debate,” he growled.

  “Yes. And we’re through here.” Simpson nodded to Gonzalez.

  She removed her hands, and Fletcher took a deep breath as he regained complete control of his speech. That was uncomfortable, and he really hoped he would never have to go through it again. And maybe, even with [Truth], his answers were enough to get him kicked out of training anyway.

  Simpson smiled, moving the black record closer to his side of the desk. “My takeaways from the candidate are that he is confident, capable, and holds high-ideals. While a few of his opinions need a little more reforming, I find that his thought process is malleable enough that such things can easily be fixed. I recommend him for the officer training program.”

  “A malleable thought process?” Fletcher asked. That was just rude. And wrong. He didn’t change opinions that quickly. Simpson was just saying what he had to in order to get him into the program, no doubt under his mother’s orders.

  “That’s enough from you, Private.” Simpson turned the recorder off. “The General wants to see you.”

  “Is that also an order?”

  “Only if it needs to be one.” Simpson stood up. “Come on. She’s expecting you.”

  “Great. Me and Major Babysitter back at it. Just like old times,” Fletcher murmured as he rose from the chair.

  “Sergeant Gonzalez, after he’s done with General Anders, will you do me a favor and take him to the track and make him wish he’d never been born?” Major Simpson said without missing a beat.

  “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

  Fletcher smiled, not regretting his choice of words for a moment. Besides, spending all day running would be better than sitting around alone in his bedroom.

  He followed Simpson from the room and then back through the hallways to his mother’s office. He recognized it easily enough. The Major spoke to the woman who acted as Hazel’s assistant and then they were sent in to see her.

  Simpson went first, Fletcher on his heels. Time to get this over with.

  Hazel was at her desk, her typical icy demeanor.

  “Thank you, Major,” she said, barely glancing up from her desk.

  Simpson saluted and left, and Fletcher remained standing at a distance, watching the woman.

  “Sit down, Fletcher,” she said, her tone making it more of an order rather than a request.

  He did as he was told.

  She looked up from her paperwork and stared at him, her eyes going over each part of him in a visual dissection.

  “I’m not going to apologize for not inviting you to graduation,” he started off, deciding to take the lead on the conversation.

  Hazel glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, her eyes their usual vibrant green. “And why would I want you to apologize for one of the few intelligent decisions I think you might have ever made in your life?”

  “Careful. You’re going to make me regret it,” he warned her.

  “You’re not half as clever as you like to think, child.” Her eyes swept him up and down again. “It would appear that military life agrees with you.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Fight it all you want, Fletcher. Being a soldier is in your blood.”

  “That’s not my choice,” he countered.

  “Are you going to spend the rest of this conversation disagreeing with everything I say?” she asked.

  “Depends on what this conversation is about,” he replied.

  “I’m your mother. I’m allowed to check in with you from time to time.” Hazel smiled at him, though he couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not.

  “Uh-huh. I saw you two days ago for that, even if was unintentional. What do you want, General?” Fletcher didn’t believe she had any desire to engage in something so casual as that.

  “To talk to you about officer training.”

  “Oh yeah. Sure. Talk about what? How you’re giving me special treatment? I heard the story with Nora and how your interference kept her from achieving her dreams,” he bit at her.

  Hazel maintained that same placid smile. “I see you’ve met Caesar. He’s very good at painting colorful pictures with his words.”

  “Why are you favoring me over her?” Fletcher asked. He didn’t like his mom, and he definitely didn’t want to be her favorite. Nora could have that. She should have that.

  “Favoring you? Oh, please, Fletcher. I assure you that’s not what this is.” Hazel chuckled. “You and Nora are completely different people. I would be a poor parent if I treated you exactly the same. I’m doing my job to ensure you are each given what you need. Nora needed time as a Hotshot to finish growing up. I would like to believe that at twenty-six, you don’t have such requirements.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “This isn’t why I called you here, and I’m not going to waste anymore time explaining things to you.”

  “Nora’s pissed at me. And you, because of this,” he told her.

  “I will worry about Nora. You have more important concerns right now.”

  “Such as? I have two weeks until I leave for training, and lots of nothing to do,” Fletcher said.

  “Lucky for you, I’m going to fix that,” Hazel promised.

  He did regret those words. Whatever she had in store, he wasn’t going to like. Whenever his mother was involved, that was a guarantee.

  “But back to my original point. Deities, you sure do love to get off topic. It’s a wonder your students learned anything under you,” she said.

  “Wait a second—”

  Her icy stare cut him off. He swallowed and allowed her to continue.

  “Assignments after officer training are handled differently than those for enlisted personnel. Each candidate gets to choose their next assignment based on their personal qualifications and their ranking in their class,” she explained.

  “So if I do well, I can get the top choice of where I go after?”

  “And what you do after,” Hazel added.

  “Such as?”

  “The reason I wanted you to go into officer training right off the bat. An analyst role is going to be available for this next graduation cycle.”

  “As in…”

  “Math. Programming. Data analysis. Things your father tells me you excel at and would enjoy doing,” she said.

  Fletcher stared at her, biting his bottom lip. That sounded too good to be true. Those were things he really enjoyed and things he had a talent for. Of course he wanted to do that rather than go out shooting Unhumans. Though he was suspicious as to why she would be offering it to him.

  “Okay. So I just have to do well enough that it’s not taken before I get to choose,” he said, leaning back in the seat. It was a miracle to think he might get to do something not awful with the next five years of his life.

  “Not just ‘well enough,’ Fletcher. The very best. Analyst roles are coveted positions. Everyone is going to want it,” Hazel said.

  “So just be the best.” He shrugged. “Easy enough.”

  “I had a feeling you’d be more willing to go along.”

  “Do I get to write home this time around, or are you going to prevent that again?” he asked. Of course he was still mad at her for it, but he understood his mom well enough to know that he couldn’t just yell at her about it. That wouldn’t do any good.

  “I assume you’re going to continue use the name ‘Dixon?’” she said.

  “Obviously.”

  “Then yes. If you want to remain anonymous, that is the price. You should be thanking me for assisting you in keeping your cover.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” Hazel asked.

  Fletcher stared at her. “Why give me what I want? I thought you wanted me to have some big military career. Wouldn’t being an analyst ruin that?”

  “I want you to be happy, Fletcher. That’s all. Now get going. I believe Sergeant Gonzalez is waiting for you.” Hazel motioned to him.

  “Yeah. Looking forward to that. Give Simpson my best.” He stood up. “And thanks… Mom. I’ll see you around.” She had been nicer after the drunk incident… Could it be that his mom was actually doing something for his benefit, not just her own? That would be something miraculous, but for some reason he didn’t think it was completely improbable.

  He walked out of the room, feeling more hopeful than he had in weeks. His mom was still being nice to him and actually assisting him in getting a career he would want. Plus Nora would cool off eventually, so perhaps things weren’t quite so dire as he originally thought. And at the end of his next training, he could be an analyst, far, far away from fighting. Maybe there was a silver lining in this whole thing after all.