Nick James - Skyship Academy

“I think a round of Bunker Ball is in order tomorrow, so get some sleep!” Wilson calls after them as the door shuts. I sink down into my seat, barely able to make eye contact.

A silence falls over the meeting room. My heart does somersaults. Sweat drips down the sides of my torso. Usually when I’m forced into a meeting with Captain Alkine I layer on a gallon of deodorant beforehand. I may smell like a flowery garden, but at least he doesn’t see what a nervous wreck I am.

“Fisher, Fisher, Fisher.” Mr. Wilson shakes his head. “What are we going to do with you?”

The scary thing is, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell they’re planning to do with me. Alkine’s a busy guy. He doesn’t have time for unscheduled meetings.

I contemplate bolting for the door and locking myself in my bedroom, but before I know it, Captain Alkine enters the room. His heavy combat boots clomp on the floor as he walks to the desk. He’s gotta be a full foot taller than me at least. Impossibly tall. His skin is weathered from years of living on the Surface. A scar runs down his left cheek-a battle wound from his days as a soldier. His dark hair is all but gray now, turned by years of overseeing a Skyship full of children.

Mr. Wilson stands, whispers something in Alkine’s ear, and leaves. Alkine moves behind the desk and stares off into the corner of the room for a moment. Then his eyes fall squarely on me.

“Jesse Fisher.”

I bristle at the sound of his deep voice. I try to look anywhere but at his face. It’s not that he’s a bad guy. It’s just that, well, he scares me. And not knowing why he’s here? That’s even scarier.

His words sit in the air, detached. I can’t tell if they were supposed to be a statement or a question, so I keep my mouth shut.

He sighs. “For god’s sake, straighten up in your chair. You look like you’re about to drip onto the floor.”

Amazing. He’s managed to put into words exactly how I feel inside.

“So you lost the Pearl.” He clasps his hands in front of him. “Big deal. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again. It’s only training.”

My shoulders relax. Maybe I’ll get away with this after all.

He clears his throat. “Do you want to be an agent, Jesse?”

Crap. I give my best fake nod, wondering if he can see through it.

“Then you’ve got to focus. And work hard.” He pauses. “What’s on your face?”

I touch my cheek, still tender and warm from the brick wall. “It’s

… uh… a burn.”

“Clumsy,” he replies, shaking his head. “I regret that I haven’t been able to play a more active role in your life, Fisher.” He scoots closer to the desk. A shiver runs down my neck at the thought of Captain Alkine wanting any part of my life, or even thinking about me at all with the hoards of trainees running around up here.

He sighs. “Your parents would have wished for you to realize your full potential, you know. I’m concerned that without a steady guide things are becoming… stagnant.”

I look down at the table at the mention of my parents. I can count on one hand the kids at the Academy without family. No need for Alkine to remind me.

“I never thought I’d be taking care of children up here,” he continues, “but let’s face it, children are our greatest hope.”

I nod, unwilling to make eye contact.

“The Tribunal’s been on my back about getting all of our medical reports in order. There are some additional tests I’ve arranged for you at the beginning of next week, things you’ve missed.”

I groan inwardly. It’s been the same since I was a kid. The Academy loves its checkups. Something about the Tribunal wanting to make sure trainees are in tip-top shape, they say. All I know is that I hate needles, especially when they’re poking into me.

He pauses, waiting for me to say something. I keep my eyes on the table.

“Aside from losing the Pearl, how did it go today? Did it feel different being on the Surface?”

My mind flashes back to the rooftop. Falling off. Living.

“Hotter,” I reply.

He smiles. “Yes, yes of course. That certainly can’t be helped with the Unified Party in charge.” He laughs, though it’s more like a grunt. “ Unified. What a joke. Unified in vengeance, maybe. It’s ironic, you know? In fighting their so-called terrorists they’ve only become more like them. Secretive, scared-a silent dictatorship. They’re like a bug turned over on its back, wiggling its little legs, lashing out at everything else in hopes of flipping back around.” He chuckles. “If the Tribunal gave me the go-ahead I’d be down there right now, with a big boot to squash them before they turn themselves over. Sometimes I feel ridiculous up here, running this school. I’m not a teacher. I’m a soldier.”

I want to point out to him that an illegal training base isn’t technically a “school,” but I keep it to myself.

“Did I ever tell you I served in Operation Blackout?”

“Several times, sir.” In fact, during school lectures he never shuts up about it. The defining moment that turned the tides of the Chinese-American War, he says.

Alkine nods, crossing his arms. “Best days of my life. I guess some of us are just born for battle.”

I glance at the door. Some of us were born to get out of this room.

“We came so close to a nuclear war,” he continues. “Thirteen years later… we thought it was all over and bam!” He pounds his fist on the desk. I jump in my seat. “Guess that’s what you get for turning a blind eye. Never look away, Fisher. Never.”

Taking the cue, I meet his eyes for a moment and keep my attention glued to his face. Well, more like his shoulder. The face is too threatening.

He laughs. “I remember this one night on the Chinese border, decades before we nuked them. There was this kid, couple of years younger than me at the time. Come to think of it, you remind me of him. Not a soldier in the strictest sense, but the potential was there.

“Anyway,” he continues, “the two of us were on a rendezvous assignment… guy from inside the country was meeting us with schematics, stuff we’d need to get in and out of their facility alive. It was a simple mission, just waiting around to grab a bundle of papers. But as you discovered today, simple missions are never as easy as they sound. Turns out someone tipped off the border patrol. We were outnumbered. But worst of all, we were unprepared.”

My eyes stray back to the table. “What happened to your friend?”

He frowns. “Died. Round of bullets right through his chest. Wasn’t quick enough.”

I fidget in my seat. And this guy reminds Alkine of me? “Sir, do you… uh… want something?”

He blinks twice. “Am I boring you, Fisher?”

“No, sir,” I mutter.

“Well, you’re getting to that age where decisions must be made. I don’t want you to end up with a round of bullets through your chest. Your peers and teachers are all well and good, but I want you to feel free to come to me if anything’s wrong.”

“What would be wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says. “I just… well, I know how it can be, growing up with the pressure you kids experience. It’s a rotten card you’ve been dealt some days, being born into the program. I also know that Mr. Wilson isn’t particularly impressed by the limited progress you’re making. Frankly, neither am I. It’s important that you have a strong male influence in your life. I’m trying… that is, I would like to be that person.”

I look up. A lopsided, uncomfortable smile sits on his face. It’s worse than his frown.

This is majorly screwed up. Alkine doesn’t interact with students. He leaves that for the teachers. He said it himself. He’s a soldier. “Does that mean that we’d have to, like, spend time together?”