#tecuani

Inefficient, Instructor would have said. A double flying back kick wasn't her kind of move. But sometimes Cynthia wanted to play. Make her body an instrument, not just a weapon.

She didn't want to think about Instructor. She pushed down her memory of the too-familiar smoke-wreathed shadow at her last tether-ring match.

Instead she thought about her beacon. Currently deactivated, tucked in the inner pocket of her gym bag. Folded inside her white ghostcat hoodie.

Probably safest that way.

Standing up, she tried again.

Several more repetitions got her landing the first kick consistently. The second, unsurprisingly, was the real challenge. After a particularly energetic attempt nearly landed her on her face, she took a breather, pacing a circle around the heavy bag and swigging from her water bottle.

The gym in their apartment complex—their apartment, a thought that still felt strange—was better equipped than most she’d encountered. Beyond the basics—various cardio machines, weights, and supplementary tools like bands, balls, and rollers—it had a couple speed and heavy bags, along with the dense mats that allowed her to try things like her current project. No practice dummies, but she could get a lot done on a bag.

There was more, including a pool and some kind of hot rooms. But once Cynthia found her corner, she'd been happy to stay there.

She'd spent a lot of evenings here in the last couple months. Her job—uniformed security at an upscale bank—was boring, but she didn't hate it. Even if “V” had placed her and Cylus in positions that were conspicuous temptations to thieves.

But while Cynthia and Cylus had stolen plenty to survive, bank robberies were never their style. Jewelry shops, maybe. Cylus had confessed that he thought about how they'd do his workplace when he was bored between customers.

Not that it was really an option for them, here. Windfall knew their faces now. They had no local underworld contacts, and no known boltholes. Except the one Cylus had gone down that first night.

With the boy Cylus assured her he was happy to trade for everything else he said he wanted. Not that they'd been given much of a choice.

She tried not to imagine him torturing himself by re-reading messages he wouldn’t answer.

She’d much rather he fantasize about thefts.

Setting her water bottle down, she mopped her brow and tried again.

And again. And again. Until—

Thud thud. Both kicks, one after another, and she even got her feet beneath her to land. She laughed, a single pleased exhalation.

“Holy shit, you landed it!”

Cynthia's hands came up on instinct as she turned, though she forced them back down as she faced a woman she'd seen here before.

She was nearly a head taller than Cynthia, with broad shoulders and thick arms. Her scant athletic clothes—black with yellow highlights—showcased dense muscle beneath rich brown skin. Black hair fluffed out from a messy braid, framing a beaming smile. Simple but striking black makeup highlighted her lips and lined her eyes. Must be one of the sweatproof kinds.

Her voice was deep and warm. “Hey! I'm Tecuani—call me Tec. Sorry to interrupt. That was just so cool I had to say something.”

“Thanks." Cynthia took in the hand-wraps, the light sheen of sweat on her broad brow. Fresh off the speed bag still swaying behind her.

Tec bounced on the balls of her feet, keeping limber. “I gotta ask, was that the move Sai does during the fridge factory fight in Void Angels 3?”

Cynthia blinked. “I'm not sure. I've actually only seen it in a supercut.” Unbelievable High-Flying Kicks (Vol. 4). Her favorite. “Why would they have a whole factory that just makes refrigerators?”

“Oh, it's a historical drama, from back before matter printing got cheap. I guess that's just how they did it back then? Great setting for a fight, anyway! And that move you did—I was gonna say—was actually even more impressive because in the movie they used a set with grav panels, so they could turn it down to .75 G for that shot! You can tell if you zoom in on—”

She stopped bouncing and broke off, looking away and rubbing the back of her neck.

“Ah, sorry! I get kinda carried away talking about this stuff. You probably want to get on with your workout, right?”

Cynthia knew her face wasn't very expressive. Some people found it creepy, or assumed she was bored or indifferent when she was simply being still. Usually, she didn't mind that.

Now, though, she put on what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It's okay. I'm interested in this stuff, too. If I want you to stop talking, I'll say so, or walk away.”

Tecuani gave her a thumbs-up, grinning again.

“Hey, can't argue with that! You're usually pretty quiet in here, so I didn't want to throw off your vibes or anything. Anyway, I've got the whole Void Angels series and a pretty sweet setup if you want to come over and catch one sometime—I'm in 1232—or I could bring them here on a pindrive if you'd rather watch on your own time.”

“Thanks. I'll think about it.”

“Yeah, you bet! I’m doing another couple rounds, but then I'm gonna hit the noodle place downstairs. You wanna come with?”

Cynthia had already been planning to get noodles. So it made sense.

“Have you tried the chili scallop noodles? This place makes them actually spicy! They're so good.”

Tec was sprawled in the shaped plastic chair across from her, halfway through a huge pearltea. Cynthia had put in a takeout order for herself and Cylie, but it hadn’t come out yet.

“Just the fishball ones."

The cheapest. And Cylie wasn't much for spice.

The smells coming out of the kitchen were even better than usual, though. Oil, seared meat, a prickling warmth.

“You can have a bite of mine before you go, if you want." Tec took a long drag of her pearltea, black spheres and pale brown liquid. “Mm. You like pearltea?"

“Sometimes.”

“It's not bad here! Wanna sip?" When Cynthia shook her head, Tec just smiled, lowering her voice. “The best pearltea in the City’s over by the Uni, anyway.”

“Are you a student?” She seemed about the right age to be in her third or fourth year.

“Moment of Truth, no! I just work there. I'm a groundskeeper, taking care of the ornamentals. Frost-roses and ivy lattices and tree planters...” She winced. “And the big lawn. Fuckin’ grass. I help out in the ‘ponics labs and the greenhouses too, once in a while. It's a good gig, if you don't get on the bad side of one of the kids whose family runs a corp. Or owns a planet. There's even a couple clubs that let the staff participate. But I can't just keep talking about myself! What's your story? Any favorite films you've been waiting to chat about with a fellow fan?”

Cynthia wasn't about to answer the first question, even though she liked Tec already. The second, though...

“Well... Have you seen Shadowless Fist?"

She stayed around chatting longer than she’d meant to. Even had a little of the pearltea, right before they said their goodbyes.

She could still taste it: the flavor of actual tea clear beneath earthy sweetness.

She took the stairs, like always. Their apartment was about twenty stories up from the noodle shop, which gave her time to think as she climbed, slow and meditative.

At least Cylus should definitely be home by now. Even if he’d been out prowling again, taking one of the long walks that seemed to be his only activity besides working, eating, drinking, and re-reading messages.

On one level, she got it. Knowing the character of a place was one of his areas, learning the social landscape like she learned the physical.

She‘d done her survey early, absorbing the layout of the City in a few focused evenings. Minus the University District, minding V’s prohibition and how much she and Cylie looked alike.

But now she knew the City. Could call it up in her mind, like she’d always been able to do. Play with it, plan with it, run scenarios in it.

Cylie couldn’t do that. People and time changed the contours of social landscapes in ways she’d learned to detect but not reliably interpret. She could sense a situation going wrong, no problem. Could track it from a single bad look all the way to the first punch.

After that, it was easy.

But a situation going well...

Well. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t make it go worse.

Cylus, though, could move people’s hearts like she could move their bodies. And part of that was understanding their contexts. Knowing the shapes of work and play, frustration and conviviality, distraction and interest. Where people lived, worked, played; did errands and went for vacation; got bad news, or good. The ways to push people’s buttons changed based on all that, much more frequently and specifically than the pure physical did. That intel made Cylus better at what he did, just like the gym did for her.

At least, that was what she’d taken from all the weird reasons he’d given over the years, for not just staying where she could keep him safe all the time.

She thought it probably also gave him time to think. Though, like always, she worried what he was thinking about.

Anyway. He’d promised—after the time she’d stayed up half the night waiting for him to come home—to get back by 22:00 on any given day. She’d decided she could live with that, and planned an afternoon snack, an evening workout, and a standardized noodles order.

Cylus always ate like he was starving. She’d given up on convincing him to plan an afternoon snack.

There was only so much she could do.

Leaving the stairway and blinking in the brighter hallway light, she navigated the handful of turns to their door. Quietly, she opened, closed, and relocked it.

Cylus was tricking, the rhythmic clicking sounds carrying through the apartment.

Slipping her shoes off and leaving them on a little rack in the entryway, she padded into their living room—a full room, with windows. They even had something of a view. They were high up in a building near the edge of the City’s dome, with business, commercial, temple, and tourist districts between them and the University. Beyond a few other buildings, icy, irregular plains stretched outside the City dome, the endless starry black sky arching above them. On the little balcony outside—an actual balcony—you could look up and see Jupiter overhead.

The place was a lot nicer than she’d expected. Nicer than anywhere they’d lived since leaving home. It’d even come furnished.

She could see Cylus’ head over the back of the couch.

Though just the top of it. He was slumped down amid the cushions. On the table in front of him stood a massive blue-glass vase full of roses, blue-black petals edged with white. An envelope—real paper, by the look—lay next to it, unopened.

Cylus clearly hadn’t heard her. As she moved closer, she saw the glow of his comm over his shoulder; got close enough to read the message on the holo-screen. His other hand whirled one of his knives through different patterns and tricks, like it was running a program.

Dear Cylus,

I hope that you and Cynthia are either safely and happily settled, or else well on your way to your next adventure, wherever that may—

Cylie jolted upright, blade snapping shut as he twisted to face her. Must’ve smelled the noodles.

“I was only sitting with my back to the door because you said we should practice doing it," he groused, flicking off his comm with forced casualness and tucking the knife back up his sleeve.

"Good job. He messaged again?" Cynthia moved around to set the takeout bag on the low table in front of the vase, then plopped down next to him and began unpacking containers and utensils. "You need to block him."

"What if that counts as interaction?" He claimed a box and a pair of matter-printed chopsticks, radiating annoyance and embarrassment in the set of his shoulders and how he avoided her eyes.

"Blocking is the opposite of interaction." Cynthia opened her noodles, but hesitated, studying him through fishball-scented steam. Red high in his cheeks. Wetness at the corners of his eyes. "You keep saying you're fine with this, but you reread his messages whenever you think I'm not looking. Also, did he... send you flowers somehow?"

"These aren’t from him.” Cylus looked surprised at his own vehemence, staring down at his food. “And I am fine with this.” He busied himself with a fishball; buying himself time while he chewed and swallowed, she knew. “How could I not be? We're getting exactly what we came here for."

"Except the threat of sudden deportation." She didn't mention how she’d found him the night of V’s message: curled on the floor between the hotel beds, sobbing silently, more distraught than she’d seen him since the night after whatever had happened with that asshole Christopher.

That distress mattered way more to her than V’s threat. But when she’d tried telling him that, he’d withdrawn. She could see him about to do it again now.

She changed tacks. “Who’re the flowers from, then?” Stabbing a disposable fork into her container, she twirled up a massive bundle of noodles.

Cylus refused to meet her eyes. “Nobody.”

She opened her mouth and devoured the whole bite, refusing to take her eyes off him.

“Someone I... met at work,” he relented. “Just some... businessman.“ Standing, he set his noodle container onto the table—on top of the envelope, nearly knocking his chopsticks out against the vase. Retreating into the kitchen—separated from the living room and a small adjacent dining space by a white-tiled island with a large, deep sink and an actual dishwasher—he opened the fridge. "Drink?"

Cynthia remembered Tec’s chatter about the fridge factory. Felt a flicker of warmth amid the cold despair of her brother’s moody remove. “Nah. Had a little pearltea earlier.”

“After your workout?” He busied himself looking through the fridge, as if they had more than water and cheap sparkling wine. “You get down that kick you were gonna work on?”

He was changing the subject. But as he came back out of the kitchen with a can, she saw the unspoken plea. Not in his face, all carefully shaped interest about her and her day.

In his shoulders. Tight as if expecting a blow.

Sighing, she relented. “Yeah, actually. And... I think I might have... made a friend?”

Their apartment also had two small bedrooms, meaning they each had their own now. It was weird, but nice.

Most of the time.

After she told him about Tec—and after he dodged her suggestion that he try making a friend, making her wonder again exactly what the deal with the rose-sender was—she showered, and they both got ready for bed.

On her way, she noticed the flowers were gone from the table.

More vials had appeared on the bathroom counter, all with the same name she’d noticed on the one that had shown up several weeks ago, around the same time Cylus had picked up an injection kit: Veuquelin Levoie.

It was good that her brother was finally getting the medication he’d so seldom had access to. It was not her business why he was getting it from someone else,when Windfall’s general health care would have provided it without cost. Without even the debt Windfall liked calling favor.

Honestly, she didn’t mind Windfall knowing one less thing about them, and what was necessary for their health and happiness.

Sleep came easy. She’d learned the trick of getting rest under even the most stressful of circumstances. In a space nominally their own, with a door that locked, nodding off was trivial.

Though she still slept light. Years of habit. And after all, they had no guarantee V wouldn’t send someone after them.

So the soft murmur of distress from down the hall woke her midway through the night. Brought her to Cylie’s open door, where comm-light glowed inside.

Nudging the door wider, she saw Cylus: covers in disarray, face crumpled, eyes shut in restless sleep.

Salt residue streaked his cheeks. His comm lay faceup on his chest, holoscreen open above it. Rose stems stuck up from the waste bin beside his bed, the envelope shoved between them. Unopened.

On silent feet, she moved next to him. Picked up the comm—nearly out of battery.

Drawing in a quiet breath, Cynthia let herself read the message.

Dear Cylus,

I hope that you and Cynthia are either safely and happily settled, or else well on your way to your next adventure, wherever that may be.

I hope I am not bothering you too much with this message, but I wanted to share some things I've learned about the University in case it's useful in your deliberations or decision-making.

For one, there is an excellent fencing club. I have been attending with my new friend Luhifa, who is very well traveled. I think you two might have a lot of stories to share with each other. I am learning how to use an epee, though I am not very good.

For two, there is a campus within the campus. All of the promotional materials only talk about the newer parts of the University, which Windfall constructed when they built the City. But on the outer edge of the grounds you can find a portion of the old research colony, which everyone apparently calls the Fishbowl. Maybe because it's inside the old (much much smaller) dome, which is not kept sealed anymore but still makes a strong visual impression. Or maybe it's because it has an access point down to the ocean below!

Just so you know, I told one of the instructors about the access we went down and he said he would have to have it resecured. I’m really sorry if you wanted to go back there! But I’ve joined the school diving club, and yesterday we just had our first dive in the ocean! It was beautiful, and I had the chance to meet one of the Europans, who was very kind. I’d love to tell you more if you’re ever interested, and either way I’d be able to show you a lot more if we go down below again!

Lastly, I really think you would bring a new and different perspective to the University if you decide to attend. I did way too much of the talking when we were together and so didn't learn nearly enough about you. But even the little you shared left a deep impression on me. There are a lot of very interesting people at the University, but I have not met anyone else like you. You would be a unique voice here and I really hope you have the chance to see that for yourself, even if you decide you'd rather run in different crowds than me. (And on that note if I am sending too many messages please just let me know and I will stop right away!)

That's all for now. I really hope everything is well with you.

Warmest wishes,

Emile

Her chest ached.

Closing the message app and setting the comm onto its charge-pad on the bedside table, she pulled the crumpled blankets up over him. Cylus got cold at night.

He made a soft, small sound as she did, but didn’t wake.

This time, back in her own room, sleep took longer to find her.

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