Ichor

Private (Part I)

Year 2 - Private
Planet Primae

° ° ° °

Percy dropped his stuff off at the base of his bunk. He had yet to meet his new bunkmate after being transferred into a new squad. His old squad, the one he spent eleven months with, was being split up because they were "too good". Their success was partly because Percy had a sixth sense for motivating people, partly because each had a special talent (Percy's being the sword since he kept his powers mostly unknown), and partly because they had an excellent lieutenant.

When their lieutenant was being promoted, the captain thought it would be easier to disband the squad entirely instead of trying to place a new lieutenant in charge of the elite group. Even still, Percy never made a connection other than comradery with them, so he didn't mind switching squads. In fact, he hoped his new bunkmate and him got along. It had been a weird time on Primae. He never really wanted to come here in the first place, but what other option did he have?

Both camps were out of the question, he could never put his family in danger, and the Magicians were dealing with problems of their own. Joining the Chaos Army was his only option—the only option he knew of anyway. But the Fates had their hand in these occurrences, so he figured this was exactly where they wanted him. What choice does anyone have when the Fates are as interested in you as America is to reality TV shows?

If only he was some weak, insignificant mortal whose only worry was if they had time to catch the latest episode of their favorite drama, then he wouldn't be in this mess. Alas, it was not meant to be. And he'd never wish his ill fortune on another being. So that left him with leaving Earth entirely, joining people with a savior complex, and putting up a facade of indifference and superiority.

Chaos said people knew of the name "Perseus Jackson" and the associated titles. Apparently, Percy was a legend across the universe—someone they told stories about to inspire others to do good, and funny enough, to join the Chaos Army. Not that many of the stories they told were by any means accurate, but they were true enough, meaning he had to go by an alias. The problem was, Percy couldn't think of a good one. He didn't want to be stuck with something he'd regret later on. And he didn't want to replace his old self in a sense, even if he was acting quite different than he used to. The decision was to not list a name, to not provide any information, and to let his peers and superiors call him as they saw fit.

The name Ichor was good enough, he supposed. Better than what his initial ideas were, that was for sure (he dodged a bullet when Chaos suggested Water Boy). The name Ichor meant something to the people who used it. They saw him as the blood that connected everyone with some sense of belonging. They saw him as someone who acted above normal standards of ability and righteousness. Or they saw him as that random guy other people called Ichor who had no meaning in their life.

Either way, it wasn't yet another lie he told the people he worked with, fought with, lived with. It was something they chose all on their own. The notion made Percy swell with pride. He was happy that even as a cold, apathetic person, people knew he cared for their individual lives. That he wouldn't abandon them or step on them to promote himself or ensure his own survival. At least, that was what he hoped they knew. And he would do his best to prove exactly that to his comrades.

Just then, a voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Why can't I read you?"

"Sorry?" Percy said to the guy who dropped a bag next to his own.

"You. I can't read you," the man said, not at all clarifying his meaning.

"I don't... what?" Percy tried again to get a clear answer.

"Oh, sorry," he said, suddenly flushed with embarrassment. "I'm from Em. I've always been able to read others, but I don't have a clear understanding of your emotions."

"My emotions?"

"Yeah. I'm an empath. Well, an enhanced empath, if you will. I can sense people's anxiety, confusion, and fear. And I promise I don't go around reading emotions all the time, but where I'm from it's encouraged, so sometimes I slip up. People think all enhanced empaths do is point out how emotionally unstable others are, but really, we feel along with them and guide their feelings towards healthier ones if necessary. The people of Em believe it's a good way of life, connecting with someone on an emotional level all the time. I thought it was a little much. That's why I'm here. Anyway, what's your name? I'm Mason Feal."

Percy was a little taken back by his new, clearly talkative bunkmate. Or who he thought was his bunkmate. It still wasn't very clear. But rather than showing hesitation, Percy offered a hand to the fellow and introduced himself.

"Ichor." The name rung in the air.

Mason stood shocked. "Really? Wow. Not what I expected."

Percy's face didn't change but his eyes flickered an odd mixture of annoyance and amusement. His outstretched hand was retracted after an uncomfortable interlude of silence. Yet even through the awkwardness, Percy remained unfazed on the outside. On the inside, he was dying to rub the back of his neck from the awkwardness of it all.

Mason had only just realized he didn't shake hands with the man. To apologize, he did the polite head nod and hand gesture of his planet. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Very few planets use handshakes as a means of greeting. Although, it is the universal—the literal standard of the universe, mind you—diplomatic introductory gesture. So I should have known, but it was a bit surprising. Less so than the fact that you're Ichor and are officially my bunkmate, but still. Sorry."

Percy didn't comment. He just stood there, blank-faced, waiting for Mason to say something else. It made him seem cold and mysterious, but honestly, Percy just had no clue what to say to that. When in doubt, say nothing at all. Once it became clear Mason wasn't going to continue talking, Percy threw one of his duffel bags on the bottom bunk, officially claiming that bed.

"Ok... not a talker. That's ok. People tell me I talk too much, so I'll just talk for the both of us. You'll probably get annoyed soon, so just tell me and I'll shut up. And I'm fine with the top bunk anyway. All good, pal. So... uh... want to get some lunch? That was stupid, never mind. You probably have better things to do. I mean... you're Ichor. The officers talk about you. Say they're gonna be out of a job soon because of you. But they only mean it as a joke. I think they think you're going to command them one day. I mean not as Commander. I mean you could, maybe, I don't know. But just that you're going to be important. Is it true Chaos recruited you? We thought he'd only ever recruit one person, but half of the universe thinks he's a myth. Or that he's blown way out of proportion. I think some of it is true, and I do think he's real. But you're obviously not him. Perseus Jackson is said to have blue hair. So-"

Percy cut the guy off before he could talk more about the blue hair he supposedly had. "Yes."

"'Yes'? 'Yes' to what? Did I ask something?"

"Chaos recruited me."

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Forgot I asked that. Well, that's cool. No wonder you're in the A Division. It's known for having the best soldiers. It'd be weird if you weren't in this division. Me on the other hand, I have no idea why I was assigned here. It's not like I can do much. I'm decent at the sword and bow and healing, but not strong enough in one to really stand out."

"You've got a way with words," Percy said flatly. It took Mason a second to realize he was making a joke.

"Ha! That was good. Sarcastic, huh? Well, at least I know you're not a robot. They can't do sarcasm well. Anyway, lunch?"

Percy sighed in resignation. He wasn't sure how this would work out, but he didn't want to be a jerk, so he agreed and they went to the lunchroom together. But on their way there, the alarms started blaring.