A shrill beeping cuts the air—the wake up call of Eveia's alarm. When did I fall asleep?

I'm still alive, so clearly I didn't make a fatal mistake by dozing off last night. Eveia looks around blearily, then slams the palm of her hand onto the top of her alarm clock.

She sits up and looks me up and down.

"You fell asleep first." Her tone is almost defensive.

I yawn as she stands and dresses for training. "Guess I realized there was nothing here to be afraid of."

I mean to sound more taunting, but second guess myself at the last second. The resulting tone is teasing, not aggressive.

Eveia raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn't speak. She bends by the door and picks up a piece of paper that must have been slipped through the crack while we slept. After examining it while I dress, she folds it up and slides it into her left training boot.

Still not speaking, she waits until I'm ready before leading the way into the hall. I'm wary of this tenuous peace between us, and I don't break the silence for fear of ruining it.

Once in the dining hall, after I've loaded my tray with yogurt, oatmeal, and an apple – forgoing the typical loaded eggs and bacon - I find an empty table and sit. I'm surprised when Eveia joins me; I'd figured our unspoken truce would evaporate once around other people.

She catches me watching her warily and shrugs at me before returning to her food. I look away and notice Wick just leaving the line, his tray heaped with food – a stack of bacon, leaning precariously like the Tower of Pisa,  threatens to lop off the side of his plate.

"Hey, Wick!" I wave, and he comes over to us.

"Hey, ladies. Mind if I join you?" He takes the seat next to Eveia without waiting for permission.

She points her spoon at him. "I didn't say you could sit there."

He grins at her, but she doesn't change her position. The smile drips off his face and he pushes his tray across the table, to the seat beside me. When he stands, though, Eveia sighs dramatically.

"Okay, fine. You can stay."

Wick pulls his tray back and jerks his thumb at Eveia, but looks at me. "Real peach, your roommate."

"How do you know I'm her roommate?" she protests. "We could just be friends."

"We're not friends," I say, but I'm smiling.

Eveia glares at me. "Well, we could be."

I can't tell if she's being serious, but I can't deny my excitement at the prospect of another friend.

"Whoa, now." Wick throws a hand out. "Nadia said she's not here to make a bunch of friends, and I already called dibs, so get in line, sister."

Eveia looks at him briefly, then some realization dawns on her face and she rolls her eyes. "Forget it, then."

She stands and picks up her tray.

"Oh, come on, Eveia," I say. "He's just joking."

"No, it's fine. I'll leave you two alone." She turns to go, muttering under her breath. I only catch the word "doll".

"What?" Wick says. "I can't be seen eating alone with her." His eyes are huge in mock horror. "I don't want people to think I'm a Ken!"

This brings Eveia up short. A smile is struggling to break free on her lips as she looks at Wick, as if seeing him for the first time. She drops her tray to the table and sits again.

"Wick, was it?" Eveia nods to herself. "I like you, Wick."

He clicks his cheek and winks at her.

"What's a Ken?" I have a feeling I don't want to know, as it is probably something to do with me being a Viry, but since these two have just bonded over the term, I feel left out.

Sure enough, Eveia starts out with, "Well, you see, doll—" she gives me that smirk again "—back before Novy Mir and the War and everything, kids played with these dolls called 'Barbies'. The male counterpart was called a Ken Doll."

"How have you never heard this before?" Wick says, but Eveia shushes him.

"Nowadays we lowly non-Viry consider someone who drools over a Viry, or really anyone he could never have, a 'Ken'. Trying to make the perfect couple with a doll."

Wick leans toward me. "You seem great and all, but that's just not my thing." He leans back and props his hands behind his head. "I've got standards."

"And I don't?" I should probably be more offended, but I like the easy way the conversation has been rolling.

Friendly.

It's nice.

Eveia changes the subject by pulling that paper from her boot.

"What room you in, Wick?"

"R33. Why, you going to visit me later?"

Eveia ignores his comment. "I bet Briar's cool. Did you see that bruise? Seemed pretty hard core."

I smile down at my breakfast but don't mention where Briar got his bruise.

"Wick, we're together on Thursday!" Eveia is reading the paper again.

"What is that?" I take it from her. It is our training schedule for the week, a rough map of the compound on the back.

I wonder briefly if she would have shared this with me had I not taken it, but I shrug off the suspicion. I'm reading it now; that's all that matters.

"You ready to go meet Hejae, doll?" Eveia says.

"I hate that name." We may be almost-friends, but 'doll' sets my teeth on edge like 'princess' would when Zarko said it.

"Well, I hate your face."

We glare at each other for a beat, then Eveia grins.

"You coming or what?" She pushes herself to her feet and heads to the door. I say goodbye to Wick and follow her to the Training Level.

                                                                                           *

We climb down into the bowels of the mountain. One level beneath the cafeteria—D-hall, as Eveia calls it—is a massive auditorium. We'll be in there Friday afternoon. The next flight down brings us to the Training Rooms, where we'll meet with Hejae and the rest of our floor mates. The stairs keep going down, so I assume the Sub-Gym is beneath this level. On the Training Level, classrooms line the hallway, marked T1-T4. At the end, a large, glass enclosed room is marked "Conference".

I've decided as we walked that I'm going to do my best to get on Hejae's good side. I'm not sure why he was so dismissive when we met; unlike Eveia, who could never be Viry, or Rune, who was Viry then lost it, I would expect Hejae to feel a sort of bond with me. Two near-Viry who chose the Kuzabn.

I'll make him like me.

Eveia shoves open the door to Training Room 2. Hejae sits on the desk in the front of the room, his legs swinging in lazy circles.

"Hey there, R17 ladies." Though his greeting sounds friendly, his eyes linger on me for half a second longer than necessary, a hardness to them.

Eveia nods her acknowledgement then takes a seat in the back of the room. I hesitate only a moment before joining her. Asevy always appreciated those who sat at the front of her classes, and seemed especially annoyed by the ones who chose a seat at the back—like me. Still, I decide my delicate friendship with Eveia is more important than trying to impress Hejae with my seat choice.

A bell echoes through the halls and the room falls silent. I watch Hejae count silently, mouthing numbers to himself as his eyes flit around the room.

"Okay." He claps his hands once. Then he pumps his legs and pops off the table. "Welcome to the Kuzabn, and more importantly, welcome to my floor. Perhaps someday I will consider you my team."

He begins pacing. "Today, however, you are merely floor mates. We are not a team, because you didn't choose me, and I sure as hell didn't choose you. In three weeks, half of you will be gone: transfers, or worse. At the end of five weeks, I will choose my team. After initiation, my team will choose me back."

A girl near the front raises her hand. "What do you mean, your team will choose you? What kind of team is it?"

Hejae stops in front of her desk. "You are?"

"Caither Burne."

"Caither, do you find a certain thrill in manipulating others?"

"No?" She doesn't answer right away, and when she does, it comes out like a question, as if she's unsure of the correct answer.

"Then you probably will not be interested in my team, and therefore your questions are irrelevant." Hejae takes up his tread again, back and forth across the front of the room. A few people murmur amongst themselves.

He speaks over them. "Those of you who are familiar with the Kuzabn history know they have five major strengths: brute force, weapons mastery, recovery, healing/survival, and lie detection/stealth. My predecessor specialized in the latter. You will learn to look for micro expressions during interrogations that give away a lie, but my area of expertise is somewhat reversed."

Hejae stops in front of the class and smiles, a wicked glint in his eye. "I am a pro at avoiding detection. Stick with me, and you will be able to con your way into any event and charm your way out of any situation."

I see movement out of the corner of my eye. Eveia has her hand up, and a hard stare in place. She waits for Hejae to acknowledge her. The class turns.

"So, essentially, you're a glorified liar?" she says.

I feel my eyes grow large. Surely there will be consequences for speaking to a Kuzabn leader in such a way.

Hejae only smiles wider. "We're all liars. I'm just one of the best."

He scans the class, making eye contact with each of us for a microsecond. "You will all lie in the course of your training here, and in the line of duty after Initiation. Not every fib, every story, every con is done out of selfish motivations. Those of us who can tweak a situation or manipulate another's will for the sake of our cause, we are invaluable to this organization. It is a worthwhile goal to pursue, if you can wrap your moral compass around the idea."

The room is so quiet I can hear Eveia breathing. I glance over and see her jaw clenched, her arms crossed. Much the same stance she took with me only last evening.

Hejae switches gears. "You, Caither was it?" He points to the girl in front, who nods quickly. He hands her a stack of notebooks from the desk behind him. "Pass these out to your floor mates, if you please. And...you." He points to a boy a few seats down from Caither's. "Your name?"

"Yoren." A dark-haired, freckled boy with a deep voice responds.

Hejae hands him a small box. "Could you make sure everyone gets a pen, sir?"

Once I have my notebook and pen, and Caither and Yoren resume their seats, Hejae explains our identification to write inside the cover.

"For example, you, in the back. Your name, please?"

My stomach seems to drop when Hejae calls me out. I clear my throat. "Nadia Radoslav."

"Do you like your name, Nadia Radoslav?" His eyes bore into mine. Several people turn to look at me, waiting for my response.

I lift my left shoulder. "I've never really thought about it. I guess I do."

Nadezhda was the name given me at birth, but I've only ever been called Nadia, except in Viry Prep. Radoslav is my last tie to Krishel and the family who raised me.

"If you could call yourself anything in the world, would you choose Nadia Radoslav?"

This is my chance to finally sever those ties, to rid myself completely of Zarko and Senka. I take a deep breath. Goodbye, Krishel.

"I would choose Nadia. Just Nadia."

Hejae smiles. "Alright then." He turns and writes on the chalkboard behind his desk:

                                                                               NADIA JUSTNADIA

I laugh to myself. That hadn't been what I meant, but I kind of like it.

Hejae continues. "And what floor and room are you, Nadia JustNadia?"

I give him a confused look. "I'm on your floor. Room 17."

He considers me a moment. I feel almost as if we are the only two in the room.

"Interesting," he murmurs. He turns to the board, then back without writing anything. He points to Eveia. "And you? What floor are you?"

He knows we're roommates. I don't understand. Then Eveia answers.

"Floor 2."

Hejae nods, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Thought so."

He writes on the board under my name:

                                                                                        HEJAE-17

"And your chosen name?" he asks Eveia.

She glances at me before answering. "Eveia Grimauld. And yes, I'll keep both names."

Hejae doesn't even try to hide his amusement this time. He writes beside my name:

                                                                                    EVEIA GRIMAULD

And beneath it:

                                                                                          TWO-17

I realize my mistake. My cheeks heat. I consider myself to be Hejae's. Before I can defend myself, Hejae explains.

"You choose your identity here. Your name can be whatever you want, but you must respond to it once it is in writing and in my hand. The floor and room are slightly less subjective, but there is room for personalization there too. Nadia identifies with me. Either she, too, is interested in psychological subjects, or she feels we have some sort of commonality that links us."

I feel the stares of more than one person, but I keep my gaze on my notebook, willing the blood to drain from my face. Hejae seems to be enjoying my discomfort. He waits an eternity before continuing:

"Eveia, however, despises dishonesty. She prefers virtue, and to some extent has a rigid appreciation for norms and societal structures. She honors her family by keeping their name. She rejects me, and my area of strength, by distancing herself from me. 'Floor 2' rather than 'Hejae's Floor.' Neither is wrong."

I can't help being impressed with Hejae's ability to read us so quickly. Eveia is definitely big on virtue, or so I'd assume, with the way she demanded I leave the Kuzabn to those who belong. I copy my name in block letters into the cover of my notebook.

"When you've finished, tear out a sheet from your book and give me a copy. Remember, this will be who you are now," Hejae says.

I finish and bring my paper to the front to hand Hejae my identity: Nadia JustNadia. Hejae's-17.

"I didn't embarrass you did I?" Hejae's voice is amused.

I shake my head and give him what I hope is a convincing smile. "Of course not."

"It's perfectly understandable if I did. No need to pretend otherwise."

I school my features into a blank mask. "I don't know what you are talking about."

'You are Viry. You've seen that I, too, possess the features essential to the beautiful among us. It is natural a common bond would be felt. I'm just sorry you can't understand that bond is a lie. No ties to anything Viry can help you here. Not even me."

I don't respond before returning to my seat.

Eveia eyes me. "What were you two talking about? He's slimy. I have a bad feeling about him."

Because he's beautiful? Big surprise.

"We have to deal with him either way for the next three weeks," I finally say. "I'd rather be on his good side."

Eveia huffs a laugh. "I'll take my chances."

                                                                                             *

Down the hall in T3, we officially meet Ceek and Kiira. Kiira shows no inclination that she remembers sticking up for me with Zarko and Ritter, which disappoints me. After my encounters with Briar and Hejae, I was hoping at least one of my instructors would like me. I suppose there's still Shark....

I laugh off the thought before it even finishes. Between his giant muscles and the way he laughed at me during the Selection, I'm sure Shark favors strong recruits, something I'm certainly not.

I realize Kiira has already begun her introduction. Her voice is soft, but a little raspy at the same time. As if she perpetually has a sore throat.

"Recovery and Healing are two overarching and intertwining fields. All Recovery Warriors have Healer training, and many Healers have Recovery skills as well. You'll all learn the basics of both, since you never know when you might find yourself injured and alone."

My mind flits to an image of myself, bleeding in the shower. I'm the opposite of a Healer.

"On the Recovery side, we'll be focusing mainly on Aquatics, as swimming skills take the most training. You will also learn some tracking and survival skills, too."

The boy with freckles, Yoren, has his hand in the air.

"When would we need to know how to swim? Do the Kuzabn do a lot of Aquatic rescue missions?"

Kiira laughs, a surprisingly tinkling sound, compared to her hoarse voice. "You're right, we don't often do seaborne rescues. But the Kuzabn has a branch of Recovery that searches for artifacts from before the War and the wave. The music you'll hear while here, the games you'll play; most have been recovered and restored. A huge part of that team does dives into the ocean."

She shrugs. "You could decide you'd like to be a part of rescuing our history."

I haven't set foot in a body of water larger than my bath tub at home, so I doubt very much I'd be interested in Recovery, or at least the Aquatic side of it. Eveia, on the other hand, is sitting a bit straighter, her eyes bright.

She leans over and whispers to me, "I love Pre-Atomic music."

I've never heard it. The only music I've been exposed to was during Viry Prep, when we learned dancing. The Viry like instrumental or "classical" music. I wonder what music the Kuzabn listen to, and how this "Pre-Atomic" music could be different from anything we have now. Eveia promises to enlighten me the first chance we get.

                                                                                           *

After Kiira's, we rush through a lunch of fried pork chops and chicken fingers with water and protein shakes before heading back down the stairs for Shark's class. My stomach feels heavy and bloated after my food is gone; after months of starving myself to maintain my body fat – or lack thereof, the sudden abundance of fatty foods and extra helpings churns my stomach uncomfortably.

I try to ignore the swollen feeling as we descend the stairs to Sub-4, the bottom level of the Kuzabn compound and Shark's underground gym.

The gym is huge, stretching the entire width of the compound, I'd guess. A track curves around the perimeter of the space. In the section closest to the doors, several rubber dummies stand ready to be clobbered; behind them, a couple dozen punching bags swing lazily.

At the far end, a large mat is criss-crossed with spaces like a parking lot. Box-like machines on skinny stands are situated in one corner of each stall, with small circular discs clinging to them. I wonder briefly what they're for before my eyes slide past, to the back wall, which is covered in panels of blue mats, a long, black rubber mat on the floor beneath them. Several racks holding different-sized weights rest beside the wall there.

I take a few more steps into the gym and catch sight of Shark beside one of the front most punching bags. His feet are spread, his hands planted on his hips, as he watches us enter, a calculating scowl on his face.

Eveia and I stand right in front of him. I see her eyes light up as she takes in her surroundings. I can tell immediately Eveia respects Shark and seems to appreciate his expertise more than she had Hejae's. Maybe she should have been assigned to Floor 1. Maybe then she'd have identified herself as Shark's-17.

Shark puts two fingers to his mouth and blows, his shrill whistle effectively silencing our crowd.

He gives us a spiel about the importance of fitness and strength, then launches into an explanation of our first drill: basic punches.

Eveia and a few others perk up at this. Neither of our morning classes had us do anything. I feel my stomach squirm. Brute force is the area I've been the most nervous about from the get go. What if I fail immediately? If they ask me to leave on my very first day? I realize I've missed Shark's words.

Shark stands, feet still shoulder width apart, but now at an angle, his right somewhat behind his left. He holds his fists up near his face, his right hovering just over his lips, his left a little higher, shielding his nose and eyes. In slow motion, he pivots on the ball of his back foot, pushing his right arm out straight. He holds this final position for a few beats, then drops his hands and faces us again.

"Okay, everybody grab a punching bag."

That's it? That is all the instruction we get? My eyes are wide and my legs feel like jelly as I follow the crowd to the bags.

"Plant your feet, pivot, and strike," Shark says, and demonstrates the move again, now in real time. His fist meets the bag with a thick smack.

My peers get into positions and begin their practice. I swallow past the lump that's formed in my throat and push an exhalation through my mouth, my lips forming an "O".

This is just like practicing with Krishel. I stand in front of my bag, lift my hands, and punch the bag as hard as I can. The contact vibrates down my wrist and one of the cuts on my knuckles reopens. All around me I hear smacks and see bags swinging. Mine doesn't move. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Shark moving amongst us, circling closer.

I try again, remembering to twist my body. The bag sways, but barely. I've forgotten something, something about my feet. I glance over at Eveia. That's right, my feet should be at an angle.

"Nice form!" Shark pauses by Eveia, watching with a calculating eye. She repositions herself and punches the bag again.

I begin to panic. Shark frowns at me. "Your turn. Let's see what you got."

I just want this to be over with. I face my bag, draw back my fist, and punch as hard as I can.

Nothing.

Shark shakes his head at me. "Plant your feet the way I showed you."

He moves behind me and gently twists my hips. I move my feet where he guides them, my face flaming. Shark's touch is detached, instructional, yet I'm embarrassed by it. He moves in front of me and lifts my fists in front of my face, positioning them for me. I'm like clay, molded however he desires.

"Now, when you punch—" He pulls my right fist forward and pushes my left shoulder back at the same time. "Your whole body should move."

He stands beside me and demonstrates. Most of the class has stopped their own practice to watch us. I feel tears of humiliation crowding my eyes, but refuse to cry. I set my jaw and keep my eyes wide, afraid one blink will unleash them.

I try to mimic Shark's moves. My form feels better, but my punch has lost all confidence.

"Better." Shark agrees. "But where is the passion? Try to drum up some hostility, a little aggression to give your fists power." His voice drops, so only I can hear him. "If you want to survive Kuzabn training, you'll have to be the best. You've got more to overcome than the others."

I'm still afraid I might cry, but Shark's words almost sound encouraging. It's probably just wishful thinking.

"Hey, dollface."

I glare over at Eveia. She knows how I feel about that name.

"That's the best you got? No wonder you had to replace your brother. If he's even weaker than you." She shakes her head. "That's just pathetic."

She smirks at me and returns to punching her bag.

I grit my teeth as fury floods my veins. I want to tear her hair out, but some sense of reason tells me I can't do that here. Not in the Kuzabn compound, not surrounded by eighteen other people who can hit better than me.

But I do want to hit something. I face my bag again, position my feet, raise my fists and slam my right one into the bag. It sways away from me.

I feel mild satisfaction at making it really move, but not enough to stop. When it swings back towards me, I sink my fist into it again.

"There you go, doll. That's the energy I was looking for." Shark grins at me and moves on.

I hate that the nickname is spreading. I punch the bag again. My blood pumps in my ears.

"When you've gotten the hang of it—" Shark calls over the sound of fists hitting the bags. "—Switch up your stance and try left punches."

I try changing my feet. I'm a little awkward again, but I still have the anger pumping and I catch on much quicker this time.

When the bell signals the end of class, my arms are shaking from exertion. I swipe my left shoulder across my forehead, wiping away sweat, and move towards the door, ignoring Eveia.

"Hey, nice job with the punching bag." She rushes to catch up with me.

"Leave me alone."

"What's your problem?" She grabs my arm, her hand wrapping around the crook of my elbow.

I rip my arm away, but stop walking to glare at her.

"You have no right to talk about my brother. He's so much stronger than me, or even you. Just because he wasn't cut out for violence, that doesn't make him weak."

Eveia's mouth hangs open a little bit. "Wait, you're really mad about that? I only said it 'cause I knew it'd rile you up enough to hit the bag."

"Well, congratulations, it worked." I continue to the door.

Eveia matches my stride. "C'mon, I didn't mean it. Lighten up, doll."

I push her; I don't care where we are. "Stop calling me 'doll'."

She pushes me back, her features shifting into a snarl. "I was just trying to get Shark off your back. Sorry for trying to help out."

She walks into the stairwell.

"Don't do me any favors," I call at her back.

She turns. "Oh, believe me, never again."

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