Rebel Fleet

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Authors: B. V. Larson
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incredulous. “How can you be…?”
    “I did my damnedest,” Samson said. “I really did. Shit.”
    “That bitch was dead on the floor!” Dalton declared, pointing at her. “She never should have made it to her cell! I swear it’s a cheat!”
    Gwen didn’t speak. She licked her lips and eyed us with fear and savage determination. I felt sure she was planning our deaths—or how to trick us again.
    My eyes went to the last door, but whoever was inside, they must have been hiding.
    “She’s tricky,” Samson said, pointing at Gwen. “That must be it. Just like this asshole, Blake.”
    “Blake’s not that smart,” Dalton told him. “ You’re the problem. You’re a complete prat. You’re aware of that fact, aren’t you? I can’t make it any simpler, sorry.”
    The two snarled at one another and squared off.
    “Guys,” I said, pointing to the floor. “The deck is green. Let’s get along for now.”
    Mumbling curses and threats, they stepped out into the open and nursed their injuries. In the middle of the floor, there was a large black object that looked like it was made of porous stone. A random pattern of holes covered the surface of it.
    Dalton and Samson pushed their tubes into these holes. They fit perfectly, then the stone began to glow.
    Several things occurred to me at that moment.
    “You guys have done this before…” I said.
    “What was your first clue, Blake?” Samson asked. “We washed out last time.”
    “You came back?”
    “We were finalists. They came back for more recruits, and we must have still been on their lists.”
    “Recruits for what?”
    “For their ships, professor,” Dalton snorted. “What do think this is all about? We’re trying out to be crewmen.”
    I stared at him. It had to be true. Why else would they heap such abuse upon us? Was I being subjected to tests of fitness? Just so I could fight for some kind of alien army? I didn’t like the idea. I began immediately planning to lose the next round.
    “What happens to those who lose badly?” I asked.
    “They die—for real. The near winners, the ones that show promise and impress their syms, they get to keep on going. Sometimes, like this time, they might get several chances to come back and try again.”
    Samson shrugged. “It’s like trying out for a team.”
    Dr. Chang finally appeared at the fifth door. He’d been pressed up against the wall, hiding and listening.
    “I guess you aren’t going to start clubbing one another,” he said.
    He stepped up to the central rock and shoved his metal tube into it. “Why are we doing this, exactly?”
    “The tubes will fill,” Samson said.
    “With what?”
    “Whatever we need,” the big man answered with a shrug. “Whatever our sym tells the rock to put into it.”
    Figuring it couldn’t hurt, I joined the circle.
    “I wish for a tube full of hard bourbon,” I said earnestly. “Tennessee whiskey, not the cheap stuff.”
    The others chuckled, and I thrust my tube into the slot. There was one more open spot. I looked back at Gwen.
    She was still lingering in her cell, silently regarding us.
    “I know you’re a worrier, Gwen,” I said. “And I don’t blame you at all. But you were told to participate. I think it would be safest for you to join us.”
    She shrank back so I could hardly see her.
    “The floor is still green,” I said. “Take advantage of it.”
    The guys were watching her. We all were, except for Dr. Chang. He was examining his tube closely. “I think something is filling it. I don’t see where it’s coming from.”
    Gwen stepped out at last. She walked forward on feet that were almost silent. She didn’t meet any of our eyes. She plunged her tube into the rock, and then she backed away like she thought it might explode or something.
    The rock glowed green-white, and I realized that I knew that light. Next, it grew cold.
    “That’s what the rock did at the bottom of the sea,” I said. “That must be when I got the sym.”
    The

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