The sun was rising as Rite collapsed on his narrow bed, every muscle screaming in protest. He scrubbed a hand through his shower-damp hair and groaned. Smasher had meant what she’d said; his new team ran him through every physical test he’d had to pass to get into the program — running, jumping, and climbing through a course set to mimic the District’s common features — and kept going until he’d begged for mercy while the other three were just starting to sweat. Cookie had met his capitulation with a moue of distaste, but Twinkle had extended a hand to help him up once he’d caught his breath. Smasher’s face had been unreadable and remained so for the duration of their uneventful patrol through Kappa parcel.
The only thing they hadn’t tested — the only thing he excelled at — was his skill with the tangle-lines. But even in the capital’s competitions, no one wanted to be wrapped in the cords, and the cords wouldn’t tangle something inanimate. That was the worst part of losing, though Rite couldn’t remember the last time his team lost.
Overall, Rite wasn’t sure what the team thought of him as their newest member, but his suspicion that he was a disappointment left a sour ache in his stomach. Habit had him reaching for a small bottle, and the pill he dry-swallowed would, he knew, ease the discomfort before long. He rattled the bottle and reminded himself to see the medtech soon for a refill. Setting the bottle back on the nightstand, his fingers brushed the ornate bracelet of the crys-com beside it.
He wondered again why the Ambassador had sent it with him. It was expensive and had an even shorter range than the TNR models, which couldn’t reach the next district from here normally; the odds that he’d be able to reach anyone back in the capital were astronomical. He let the toy lay and exhaustion soon calmed the swirl of his thoughts.
