Compete by Norilana Books

does not exist.”
    He pauses, observing the impact of his words. As he does, I feel a wave of cold rising inside me.
    And then he continues, softening his words. “ You matter to me about as much as any other refugee from Earth on this ship. Which is to say, you matter greatly—all of you. But that is all. And I regret that this conversation has turned out to be so inappropriately personal.”
    “I—I am sorry,” I say brokenly, forgetting my own rebellion, while a strange inexplicable feeling of regret floods me, makes me numb. “I did not mean to imply—”
    “No, you did not. Very well,” he says, sitting forward again. “Then let’s not speak of this any longer. As far as the Games of the Atlantis Grail—the matter is settled also. But—let me make it fair for you. You have my permission to enter the Games, if , after all these months on my ship, you can demonstrate to me that you have what it takes.”
    I open my lips and sit up, with a sudden surge of hope.
    “But,” he continues. “Face it, Lark, you barely made it through Qualification. If you were to enter the Games in the same pathetic condition as you are today, at the same minimal level of physical training, you would not last past the first round. The competition would eat you alive. So, for all practical purposes, we will not dwell on this idiocy ever again.”
    “But—” I say.
    “You will spend the bulk of your time working for me as my aide, reporting to this Central Command Office. After your daily duties, you may use your own time as you wish—to train or not. Also, I will not force you to make a life decision of Fleet Cadet or Civilian until this journey is over—not until I make my final evaluation of you. It is the only exception I will make for you, compared to anyone else—and only because of your unique value to Atlantis. For the duration of our trip to Atlantis, you may choose any classes and train with both the Cadets and the Civilians. I will also continue to train you personally in the use of your Logos voice.”
    “Thank you!” I exclaim. “It is all very reasonable and fair, I agree, thank you! ”
    “Don’t thank me yet,” he tells me with a faint smirk. “Let’s see how you feel in a year from now.”
    “So, if you find my training adequate by then, you will allow me to enter the Games?”
    “Yes.”
    I smile at him, a big blooming smile of hope and joy—so much so, that he actually seems to be caught up by the sight of me. He cranes his neck slightly, never taking his eyes off my face.
    And then reality washes over me.
    “Wait,” I mutter. “You don’t believe I can be ready in a year, do you? And that’s why you are saying this . . . only to humor me?”
    “Very perceptive as usual, Lark. That’s correct. I do not.”
    “So then you are not really letting me do anything, are you? I am not going to be entering the Games?”
    “Not a chance.”
    I bite my lip and nod at him. A strange new tumult of emotion is rising inside me, churning deep, and oh, it is comprised of so many things . . . there’s outrage, hurt, the same deep, bitter regret at the revelation of how he really feels about me—or should I say, how little he feels for me—and a fierce burning sense of thwarted rightness.
    Well then, Kassiopei, I will show you , I think.
    But I keep it all bottled up. “Okay,” I say softly. “What is expected of me, as far as daily work here for you?”
    “I am glad you show some sense at last.” Aeson raises one brow, almost surprised at my composure. “Now then, let’s discuss your duties.”
    And for the next twenty minutes, we do.
     

Chapter Five
     
    A eson Kassiopei outlines for me what it is I will be doing as an aide to the Command Pilot’s Central Command Office.
    “Your primary duties,” he says, “will be as records keeper to the CCO. You will observe and record the journey that the Earth refugees make, and you will compile the chronicle into a historical record from an