Subordinance

Chapter One

Chapter One

I'm crippled. 

I'm falling. 

I'm cowering under the glare of the Emperor, a glare that demands my loyalty and utter subordinance. In his eyes I see my fractured reflection, hopelessly inferior amidst imposing pools of jade. In the mirrored image, I see every single thing I've tried so hard to block from my mind, every little nagging whisper in the back of my mind I've tried to ignore. 

Every doubt. 

Every fear. 

I see--or rather, I don't see--the day I was created, a memory every other Subordinate in the Empire remembers. The week after, even, is a blur--and I was fully conscious then. My recollections are no more than foggy, intangible tendrils of smoke that I am wholly unable to grasp at. Aggravatingly hazy memories that I should remember. They dance in front of me like ghosts, and I bat at them with a phantom hand to dismiss the shaming whispers. 

The vacancy is quickly filled with another flashback, memories of various training sessions and drills within the Dome Complex. I watch from above, seeing my past self from not too long ago stumble through simple drills and get completely lost within the labyrinth while other Subordinates saunter through with innate agility. I cringe at images of myself fumbling with volt pistols, flustered fingers trying to jam the volt cartridge in the gun. Within the memory, I hear the shouting voice of the Sector Leader, somewhat diluted through the image. 

It had seemed so much louder when it'd been happening. 

I wave away the memories, shaking my head as another image surfaces. It's a simple list that shouldn't bother me as much as it does. All it is is the most current Sector roster, rankings for how you've been doing in training and drills. Your overall skill up to this point. Your roster ranking determines your final Second Army position when you're reassigned at 24 months. The higher your ranking, the better your position. 

I cringe when I see my coordinates hovering near the bottom of the list. 

I blink to clear the image away, and when I open my eyes, the Emperor's face reappears, oppressive jade eyes hold such a dismissive light. You're not good enough, they say. Work HARDER! they demand. I squeeze my eyes shut, terrified at the thought of not being good enough for Delta. 

Delta has given me everything. It created me. I was made to serve Delta. 

I have to be good enough for Delta. I must. 

I have nothing else. 

In raising my eyes to meet the Emperor's glare, my blood crescendos in my ears in a roaring and blatant chorus. My heart drums to an irregular beat, pounding out a fractured rhythm of terror. 

In his eyes I see everything I have ever feared. 

***

I wake with a start, panting hard and my heart galloping like crazy. I brace my hands against the bench and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get my ragged breathing under control. I rake a hand through my lanky hair and stare at the ground. Inside my scuffed brown dress boots, my toes are curled and tensed. I draw in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When I blink, I still see the glaring eyes of the Emperor. I shiver.

Some "day off" this has been. 

I focus on the steady thrumming of the AirTram beneath me, underneath white-knuckled fingers and worn dress boots. As I press a sweaty palm to my fevered cheek, I realize the girl across from me is staring.