Archive of Our Own

"Are you sure about this, corporal?" Elegance laid the folder containing Liskarm's painstakingly-completed transfer form on her desk. It was usually hard to know exactly where the captain was looking – her wide blue-lilac eyes had neither whites nor pupils, just a faint grid of black lines – but Liskarm could tell she had her full attention now. Even seated, Elegance was so tall that their heads were almost level.

"Yes, sir." Stiff formality let her hide the stiffness in her throat.

"Why?"

"I explained my reasoning clearly in my application, sir."

"You have done an exemplary job, as usual. I'm sure that at no stage of the formal review process will there be any objections, nor would any future auditor have pause, assuming the document is filed correctly." Elegance paused heavily. "It is a pleasure to have a front-line operator who is so diligent about her paperwork."

Liskarm knew better than to thank her for the compliment.

"In previous debriefs, you've expressed scepticism about the Rhodes hierarchy." The captain's voice was pointed despite her fluting accent. She said nothing more, watching Liskarm with uncanny stillness.

"Yes, sir." There was little point denying it. Liskarm's record had exactly two reprimands on it, and one was for unprofessional remarks she'd made in her first report on collaboration with Rhodes. But there were serious ambiguities in the NGO's command structure, and for a medical professional, Kal'tsit spent far too much time acting the general. As she had since that reprimand, Liskarm held her peace.

Elegance looked down at the form again, lifted a hand as if to pick it up, then rested her fingertips on the desktop instead. "I have two cancelled requests from you for assignment to a new partner in the last six months."

"Yes, sir." And a third, never formally filed, from the wake of Liskarm's second reprimand.

"Bright has three from your partner." Airy though her voice was, the captain's sharp-featured face made it clear this was her deadpan.

"Yes," Liskarm felt her jaw stiffening, "sir."

"But for an accident of the chain of command, the two of you might have been separated after a month." Elegance's eyes went to the form again, then back to Liskarm's face. "I remain convinced that you complement each other extremely well. And we have discussed before the possibility that you might benefit from consultation with Rhodes Island's originum arts trainers – it was a nice touch to mention that, by the way. It seems you finally agree."

Liskarm said nothing. She'd managed to keep Franka alive thus far, at considerable risk to life, limb and operational integrity, but to suggest they worked well together on that basis sounded like survivorship bias.

Elegance pushed her chair back and rose smoothly to her feet. The ischnura, tall and narrow as she was, would have looked impossibly delicate to anyone who had not seen her in combat. For Liskarm, it was simply unsettling to see her moving so slowly. Elegance turned her back, facing the window and treating Liskarm to a view of the knife-sharp, glittering cape of her long, straight wings.

"I did not rise to my current position by suffering fools or liars, corporal." Rebounding off the glass, Elegance's voice sounded harsher. She turned her head to look back over her shoulder at Liskarm. "And if you don't think you're lying to me, then you're fooling yourself."

What-? Liskarm bridled, but managed to keep her reaction from reaching her larynx.

That seemed to irritate Elegance even more. She returned to the desk and grabbed the form in one hand. "This is a pen-pusher's argument. The pen-pusher in me recognises that the pen-pusher in you has done all possible due diligence, and I'm sure the pen-pushers we answer to will be very happy. But you, corporal, you are more than a pen-pusher, whatever you might think about the matter, and it would be irresponsible of me to endorse this assignment without knowing what's really going on."

She slapped the form back down on the desktop and glared at Liskarm. It was all Liskarm could do not to flinch. The captain continued, "I'm going to hold onto this form. You need to talk to your partner – or maybe talk to her again but honestly if she knows anything about this I'll be very surprised – you need to talk to her again and figure out exactly why you want to go with her after all the crap you've put me and Bright through since we put you together." At that, even Elegance had to pause for breath. "Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you understand the instruction, corporal?"

"Yes, sir," Liskarm lied, not fooling anyone.

"Oh, for crying out loud." Elegance leaned forward, still towering over Liskarm. "Talk. To your partner. I will sign this form if and when I receive some evidence that Franka knows that you want to go to Rhodes with her and that you know she wants you there."

Liskarm swallowed, a sudden knot at the base of her spine. What if Franka's requests for a new partner hadn't all been pranks after all? "Yes, sir."

Elegance cooled, straightening her back. "Dismissed."

Liskarm saluted, arm trembling, then turned and marched to the door.

Behind her, gently, she heard Elegance say, "Good luck."

Somehow, that made it worse. Liskarm put her hand on the door handle and took the opportunity to check her watch. Where would Franka be at this time? There was nothing on her schedule for the day but there was no guarantee that was up to date, nor would she stick to it even if it was.

She opened the door and stepped through-

"Hey, partner." Franka lounged against the wall about two metres up the corridor. Liskarm stumbled.

"What-?"

"A little bird told me you had a meeting with the Captain." Franka smiled, and though she didn't bare her teeth Liskarm felt like she could see them anyway. "Anything important?"

Did she know? Liskarm reeled, just about managing to close Elegance's office door behind her. Had the captain known that Franka was out here? At least the doors were effectively soundproof, though of course there'd be internal security devices watching from somewhere.

Nothing for it. Something in her gut turned over heavily as she spoke through a tight throat. "I've requested transfer to join the Rhodes Island partnership agreement, and-" she had to stop and swallow. "And, uh, to remain assigned to you as operational partner."

"You what?" Franka's voice came out higher than usual, but not by much, tense and sharp in ways that Liskarm didn't recognise. From this angle and where the light was, she couldn't read the vulpo's face either, but a lot was clearly going on there.

After a moment while Liskarm felt herself starting to sweat, Franka pushed herself up straight and started to move slowly closer, her walk sinuous. When she spoke, her tone was lighter, but there was more than just a prank in it. "And here I thought I'd finally be free of you, slowing me down in the field," she turned slightly, as if to walk past Liskarm, then paused when their shoulders were level. "Complaining about my paperwork," she took another step, and Liskarm felt her turn without seeing her, "Telling people I'm a loose cannon, a danger to the company."

"I never-!" Liskarm spun in place, cheeks hot.

"But you thought it." Franka put a finger up, right in front of Liskarm's nose. Liskarm tried to focus on it and her head swam. "You'd never be so unprofessional as to express an honest opinion. You'd leave that to crazy idiots like me who have no discipline or respect."

"I-"

"Ah ah!" Franka cut her off, laughter fermenting gently in the depths of her voice. "If you want to be my partner, shouldn't you let me say my piece and listen?"

Liskarm realised her mouth was hanging open, and shut it, losing her chance to answer.

Franka turned her shoulder to Liskarm, keeping one finger upright and counting it with her other hand. "You think I'm rash to the point of carelessness." Second finger. "You believe all those boring forms I don't fill in actually matter." Third finger. "You think I don’t train hard enough." Fourth. "You hate Rhodes Island and Kal'tsit." She tilted her head to look at Liskarm, eyebrows raised. "What possessed you to change your mind, now of all times?"

Liskarm drew a shaky breath, realising she was actually going to be allowed to answer this time. "I said in my- No. My analysis is that Rhodes Island's operational hierarchy is different to BSW's, and that creating a situation in which operators in the liaison team are having to adapt to new internal arrangements while coordinating with Rhodes officers will significantly compromise operational effectiveness, detrimentally to the partnership and to BSW's reputation."

"Hah! For once I actually want to read a form." Franka mock-paused. "Maybe it's enough to be a fly on the wall when the assignments committee opens that one up. Did Elegance give you her line about not suffering fools and liars?" This time when Franka paused, she did so for only a split second, but Liskarm felt she couldn't hide anything from the vulpo. "It's such a good line, did you try to tell her you weren't lying?"

"No, I-"

"No, of course you didn't." Franka threw up her hands and twirled dramatically. "Speak back to a senior operator? You? Not again." And she drew out the last syllable, voice oscillating.

Liskarm clenched her teeth and took a breath. It came and went through her nose and she couldn't help but hear anger in it. "The analysis is sound. I may be surprised to find myself saying it, but we make an effective team."

"Effective?" Franka's voice rose on every syllable. Then she hissed, "Analysis?"

Cold to her guts, Liskarm forced words out. "We compare favourably to any active team when aggregated across the full spectrum of field effectiveness metrics."

"And how much better would I rate if I was paired with an operator I didn't have to drag around operating zones like a ball and chain?"

"Ball and-!" Liskarm slammed her teeth together and tried to collect a thought. "We do especially well on injury and materiel loss measures. I keep you alive out there!"

"And that's going to matter where I'm going, is it?"

The sudden shift in Franka's manner hollowed out Liskarm's stomach in an instant. The vulpo had spoken quietly, her voice melodic. There had been mirth in her face but now she stared impassively at Liskarm, any anger hidden.

Liskarm tried to speak and produced only a strangled, throaty gasp. Her partner could swap emotions fast as blinking, she knew, but she had no reference point for this. Neither of them did. The spilt package that had – probably! No-one knew for sure! – led to Franka's oripathy diagnosis was too recent a failure.

Did… did Franka blame Liskarm for that? It hadn't even been their cargo. Maybe it was a bad idea, now of all times, though, for her to have claimed to be good at protecting Franka.

"I'm sorry," she managed. "I just… I don't want you to die. Not for Rhodes Island."

"I'm going to Rhodes to die, Lisk." Franka spoke like a patient schoolteacher, and Liskarm felt more sharply the difference in their heights, how much she was looking up to the other woman. "There's no cure for oripathy."

"Not yet," Liskarm tried to sound reassuring, all too aware of how it made her voice waver. "But that's what Rhodes are working on. And you're not at imminent risk, you have years ahead of you still."

"'Not at imminent risk'," Franka mimicked coolly. "Listen to yourself. Why would I want to spend the last years of my life listening to you?"

"I won't let you give up like this!" Heat in the words brought Liskarm half a step closer to her partner. "You can't-"

"Can't what?" Franka snarled, standing straighter. "Ruin your performance review by dying under your protection?"

"That's not fair!"

"What the fuck is fair in this? I've got a black rock in my veins that's going to kill me, and you're in my face demanding I make it all about you."

Liskarm caught another frantic exclamation in her throat. Her shoulders were tight, body and eyes burning. "You can't just give up on life like this!"

Franka's eyes flared in obvious anger for a second, then narrowed. Like a knife-edge scraping over glass, she said, "And if I say that spending any longer leashed to you is giving up on life?"

"What do you want me to say?" Liskarm found herself grabbing for Franka's shirt-

-the vulpo was faster, like she'd been expecting it. Liskarm's world spun as the other woman half-sidestepped, turned, and threw her into the wall. She felt the high knot of her ponytail absorb the impact, protecting her head from a blow that would have dazed her, and surged forward again.

This time Franka crouched back a little and twisted to bring her elbow and forearm up into Liskarm's path. Liskarm huffed, lungs emptying, and staggered sideways up the hall. She heard Franka take a step behind her, sensed a blow coming, stumbled into a roll and ended up on the floor. Franka towered over her, advancing, and Liskarm scrambled awkwardly backwards.

A door slammed open behind Franka and a dark blur flew out into the corridor, wall to ceiling to wall like a ricocheting missile. Elegance struck Franka in the back, sent the vulpo sprawling to the ground, sliding belly-down on the tiles. She came to a stop just past Liskarm, rolling over as she did so. The high sheen on her immaculate shoes caught the dim hallway lighting.

Liskarm looked up into her captain's stony face.

"If the two of you absolutely must come to blows," Elegance said, without a hint of exertion or anger in her tone, "I suggest you do it in the training facilities. I would rather not risk you putting holes in my office walls."

Liskarm rested the base of her shield on the floor just in front of her toe. The live-arts sparring chambers were, necessarily, austere; anything but a reinforced concrete box would suffer too much through wear and tear. The lights were two recessed strips in the ceiling, covered in thick, cloudy glass. A narrow strip of window, similarly dense and always murky, was the only way for onlookers – and the medical supervisor – to monitor the duel.

Who was up there now? Elegance? What the hell am I doing? Franka stood opposite her, coolly inspecting her long, fine sword. Liskarm had long since learned how illusory its fragility could be. Franka's abilities were inconsistent, but when she got the blade up to its full heat it would cut through almost anything. The vulpo loved to demonstrate by ruining Liskarm's shields.

Of course, if Liskarm could time her defensive arts right, she could turn aside anything Franka could do. But she too was inconsistent, despite her best efforts in training. She checked the pistol in her hand again. The extended magazine stuck out a couple of centimetres from the grip. 16 shots, rather than her usual twelve. She had a spare magazine at her belt, but if it came to that she doubted Franka would give her the chance to reload.

The vulpo's speed was also going to make it difficult to get a clean shot off on her. Liskarm didn't need to worry about channelling arts into her shooting, at least; the gun would do all the work she needed, and any more would just make the duel more lethal than it needed to be. If she accidentally killed Franka here the other woman would make a particularly annoying ghost.

"Are you ready yet?" As if answering Liskarm's unspoken thought, Franka spoke, her tone heavy with mock impatience.

Liskarm shrugged her shoulders as much as her gear would allow and rested her gun hand on top of her shield.

Franka moved before she'd finished opening her mouth. Liskarm backstepped and raised her shield, her first shot going wide as Franka charged. The black sword spanged off the face of the shield, and Liskarm turned with the blow, shoving to drive Franka back.

The vulpo slid to a crouch and hopped sideways as Liskarm fired again. Liskarm looked into the other woman's flared eyes for a moment, harsh lighting lifting their brown almost to amber. Then Franka came back at her with another lunge.

Liskarm started to pull her trigger again, but vision cut glass-clear by the adrenaline picked out yellow heat rising along Franka's blade. Wrenching at her own knees, Liskarm threw herself aside, into an awkward roll. Her shield covered her until she was upright again but then her back was exposed to Franka's spat curse.

Wildly, Liskarm fired two shots behind her to buy time and spun to face her partner. Franka stood ready, untouched but a metre further away than Liskarm had expected. Four shots down already. Franka's back was to the corner of the room. A black line scored on the concrete floor showed where the stroke aimed for Liskarm had ended up.

The slight sensation that her blood was bubbling told Liskarm of her arts' rising readiness. She held steady, slightly hunched, one shoulder turned a little toward Franka. The art itself could only negate one strike; the aftereffect as it dissipated would be no help against Franka's thermite. Liskarm had to hold this until she needed it.

She knew Franka would move as soon as she raised her gun. The corner gave the other woman advantages in dodging-

"Do you ever stop analysing?" Franka put venom into the last word. "Eight shots left."

Let her believe that. "I'd be foolish not to think through every possible advantage."

"Can you think fast enough?"

Fast enough to realise Franka wanted to move as Liskarm was replying. Liskarm held her peace, jaw clenched. Her blood fizzed. Was Franka trying to wait out her arts? She couldn't unleash unless attacked. And Franka's skill with her thermite was still too unreliable to be waited on.

Liskarm struggled to relax her shoulders. None of her training would do her any good if she got too tight and flinched when Franka finally broke the standoff. Trying to provoke the other woman, she worked her grip on her gun, as if starting to raise it.

As if in mimicry, Franka raised one eyebrow, barely enough movement to be visible. She crouched a little lower, too. Liskarm's veins rose almost to a low hum. She didn't recognise Franka's stance, legs splayed slightly from the knee, heels outward. Where was she going to go from there?

She had to be trying to psych Liskarm out. Maybe she thought she could close the distance too fast for Liskarm to get a shot off? Liskarm contemplated a half-step backward. More space between them would clearly favour her, but she'd be off balance for a moment, and Franka was so fast.

Liskarm's leg vibrated as she slid it backwards. Hard to keep it steady and slow. She was going to have to deploy her art on Franka's first strike, whatever it was, or she'd explode. Always hard to predict, but it looked like Franka would go right.

Halfway through the next thought, Franka's awkward stance unrolled. Liskarm hopped back, further than she meant to, dragging her gun up, as the vulpo spun into the air. One shot, but it went under Franka's legs as they rose towards the wall. Her legs straightened and she was flying at Liskarm, over her second shot, leading with the thrust of her sword as if she'd become a javelin.

Liskarm released, raising her shield, flashing blue over its surface. The art muted the blade's impact to a dull thud, and Liskarm sidestepped, turning to avoid the brunt of Franka's weight behind it. She tried to give the other woman a shove but the angles didn't work out.

Franka somehow came up swinging, a wide back-handed arc that Liskarm deflected down the side of her shield. There were still traceries of blue defensive energy flowing over the black metal surface. Liskarm started to turn her weapon towards Franka only to see the vulpo's blade glowing white by her ankle.

The follow-up stroke rose from Liskarm's left as if to bisect her, sending her reeling backwards out of its way. The blazing thermite passed weightlessly through the corner of her shield, and a heavy chunk of metal thudded to the ground, one face cherry-red from residual heat.

Franka pressed her advantage, a swirl of slashes driving Liskarm back, still off-balance. She had to hold her shield well away from her body to prevent Franka cutting round it, but that left her vulnerable if Franka could get her thermite hot again. With every ringing impact, Liskarm's blood heated, uncomfortable complement to the sweat starting to cling to her back.

She dropped a longer step backward, sliding her stance low, and unleashed again. Franka's sword bounced back, drawing a curse from the vulpo, and Liskarm was able to surge towards her, time bought to raise her gun.

Her seventh shot cracked off concrete on the far side of the room as Franka flattened almost prone beneath her. Liskarm jumped, catching a rising slash as she vaulted the other woman and regained the centre of the room. She fired, aiming to suppress, but Franka was already up and rising to her right, open side. Liskarm started to reach, awkwardly, across with her shield – thermite! – and then had to drop back, feeling the heat trailing behind the shining sword.

That left Franka off-balance and open, though, and Liskarm dragged her gun round, too slow, too slow because Franka was already pirouetting away. A bullet whined off the concrete floor. Franka was still moving, but Liskarm was in the right position, blood high and roaring, and sword met shield like hammer on anvil. Somehow, Liskarm held on to her art, waiting for when it was needed.

They sprang apart, Liskarm allowing the movement to open her up, raising her gun. Franka came back faster than she expected, higher than her aim, over the zing of another wasted shot, blade glowing – again already? – and Liskarm burst with blue light. The sword singed her jacket as her bare forearm shove turned it aside, momentarily impervious.

Again Liskarm dropped back, more controlled this time, shifting the angle of her shield to meet each swing of Franka's sword. That kept Franka's assault from wearing her down with heavy blows. Liskarm struck the floor with the sheared-off corner of her shield as the dark sword swung upward, catching it low. Rather than try for a shot, she jumped backwards, buying distance. Let Franka think she was being conservative with her last two bullets.

Franka pressed the attack, closing all the space Liskarm had opened up in fluid strides. Liskarm blocked, blocked again, flatter this time and with a shove, trying to jar the vulpo's sword-hand. Blood rising, she spun instead of blocking, stepping to the side and for an instant Franka was actually off-balance, overreaching into empty air past Liskarm's shoulder.

Liskarm fired again, still not fast enough as Franka threw herself rolling sideways and clear. Liskarm watched chipped concrete spin into the air just by the other woman's face. Franka was already rising, grin wild with the belief that Liskarm was on her last shot, thrusting with a rising glow in her sword.

Not quite ready to guard herself with arts, Liskarm twisted awkwardly, thrusting out with her elbow behind her shield. White thermite slid through the heavy metal, centimetres from Liskarm's cheek, her blood boiling at the radiating heat. Then the outer edge of the shield struck Franka's forearm, and the blade was knocked away, peeling up and out through the shield's upper quarter, a hot line in its wake.

Franka's stance tightened rigid and the sword came straight back, but this time Liskarm was ready, bursting outward with blue incandescence, shoving behind it to knock Franka off-balance. As the vulpo staggered, Liskarm took her twelfth shot, rushing to buy more time. Franka's eyes never left hers, and as if she had extra limbs to jump with she was already recovering, rebounding, charging-

-noticing Liskarm's lack of panic and vaulting out of the way of the unexpected thirteenth shot, spinning through the air like an athletic high-jumper almost over Liskarm's head. Liskarm had to duck as the black sword trailed its wielder like a ventral fin, all but scraping her horns. She turned the motion into a ground roll, away from where Franka would land, over her shield and back to standing.

By the time they were both upright, breathing hard, they were a good three metres apart. Liskarm realised her shield was noticeably lighter than it had been. The gash Franka's art had left in it was wide; the blade must have twisted as it came free. It probably wasn't enough to compromise the shield's strength in that corner, but it spanned a solid third of the width of the face.

"So. How many extra shots do you have?" Franka stood almost at attention, glaring fiercely across the gap.

Liskarm inhaled, pulling the strongest gale she could up through her nostrils and settling her face. "If you actually paid attention to your training, you'd know what sizes of magazine are available for this model." She didn't risk even casually raising the weapon, and Franka's attention didn't wander to it. It had been a worry, that Franka might guess, or know. There was a fifteen-round version as well as the sixteen, but it was third party and not regarded as reliable.

"Why do you want to keep working with me?" Although there was no levity in Franka's voice or posture, Liskarm thought her exasperation was still a little exaggerated. "It's always like this with you! Not enough training, not following operating procedures, not focussing on mission objectives. You clearly don't think I'm a competent operator, why work so hard to work with me?"

"If I underestimated you enough to think you were incompetent you'd have struck me dead at least twice in the last five minutes." Liskarm felt heat in her chest, her throat, beginning to bubble again in her blood. "I know how skilled you are, I just want to help you be even better."

"Oh? Patronising me, is it?" Now Franka did sound amused, and the heat in Liskarm's shoulders turned uncomfortable.

"I learn from you all the time." Liskarm let some of her anger show. "Am I supposed to be happy that all I get in return is ignored? That you look down on me?"

"Your stature is not my fault, dearest partner," Franka cooed, and Liskarm kicked herself internally.

"Are you actually mad or are you just making fun?" It was all Liskarm could do to keep her feet planted, to not stomp forwards. Franka was a long way away, in duel terms, but fast enough to take advantage of any momentary lapse.

"I still don't think you're being honest with me." Now Franka was definitely teasing. "I think you actually like working with me. Maybe you even like me." The vulpo's grin spread wider. "Maybe we could be… friends."

Some stony hand curled around one of Liskarm's lower vertebrae and squeezed. She broke Franka's gaze, found herself fixating on a bullet-hole in the wall behind her. When she managed to corral her attention again, she focussed on the shoulder of Franka's sword-arm. That would have to move as soon as the other woman launched any new attack; not quite as good as looking her in the face but Liskarm felt as if looking any higher would be like trying to push together the norths of two magnets.

The grip of her pistol was reassuring in her hand. She worked her fingers, resettling them. Three shots, and then she really would have to think of something else. Her defensive arts wouldn't be much help, but the only other things she had were untrained experiments. Her blood roared with readiness in her ears, reducing her awareness of her opponent to a shapeless object in space, like a VR target. That helped.

The moment Liskarm started to raise her head, her gun, her stance, Franka burst into motion. She lunged forward, leading with her shoulder as Liskarm jerked her gun up. Franka jumped, flirting with Liskarm's aim, but Liskarm managed to hold the shot she would have wasted. The vulpo's body blocked Liskarm's view of the black sword. What was she-?

Franka hit Liskarm squarely in the shield, drawing a burst of blue light from boiling blood she couldn't hope to restrain. She staggered back from the impact, trying to buy space, but Franka was spinning, sword coming round from her open right. Liskarm had to lift her shield horizontal in front of her face to catch the strike, then fall back again as Franka pressed.

That at least let her straighten out, twisting the shield to one side or the other as Franka thrust again, then again, then again. The vulpo's eyes were wide and fierce, unblinking despite the fury of her assault. White heat flooded from the sword again and Liskarm all but fell backwards in avoidance. How much room did she have behind her? No time to check.

She rallied to meet a sweeping overhead swing, and Franka's next struck the side of her shield right by the gash her thermite had left in it, catching for a second. Liskarm got her gun up and fired, certain that she saw the sleeve of Franka's blouse tear as the bullet just barely missed. Her blood was already up again, and she unleased rather than try to block Franka's next swipe, trying for another shot.

No such luck. Franka sensed what was coming and toppled with the arc of her sword, so that it struck Liskarm's forearm instead of her head. The blow did no damage, scattering tendrils of blue like tiny insects fleeing the impact site, but it jarred her arm, and though she kept held of her weapon it discharged again, burying her last-but-one bullet in the floor.

And still Franka came on, the black sword reversing almost weightlessly towards Liskarm's shoulder, so she had to spin awkwardly on one ankle, reaching, to just get her shield back across in time. That knocked Franka back an instant, but Liskarm didn't even have time to sort her footwork out before the vulpo was swinging again, glowing, and Liskarm had to grit her teeth and let the thermite rip another gash in her shield.

The cut crossed the earlier slash and two chunks of black metal dropped to the floor. Liskarm released her own art to take the next strike and leapt backwards, pushing instinctively when her hind foot found the wall. That sent her into an awkward, tumbling pirouette but she used the motion to slam her shield against Franka's next blow. The clash jarred her elbow, and she could see Franka's grip on the black sword shake, but she had to catch her balance and Franka was advancing again.

Chill air over her knuckles told Liskarm how close Franka's art had come to taking her fingers off. She backpedalled and backpedalled, barely keeping up with the hail of strikes. There was no opening to get a sure shot off, and she couldn't waste this last one. Unleash and for a second buy time but Franka came on again, and Liskarm could tell that her partner knew she was low on ammo.

The black sword turned white as it swung in high, and Liskarm dropped to the floor, rolling, shield up just in time to catch the dark reverse swing, her blood already whistling like an old kettle. She was losing, retreating constantly. She recovered her feet but Franka was already there, almost in her face. What would the vulpo do if she won? Escape to Rhodes?

Franka all but had her cornered, and with most of the light in the room behind her her eyes were dark above her wild smile. The black sword came in again and again, and Liskarm held her blood for – there – the moment it glowed yellow, sent it rebounding back and surged forward, trying to slam into her partner but Franka was already clear, the sword already returning.

No, Franka would do something more teasing, more humiliating, than just leave. But what? Liskarm stepped into the next swing as well, shield up, but then had to fall back under the vulpo's lightning-quick follow-through. Her next stroke aimed for the gap in Liskarm's shredded shield, and Liskarm had to fight her own muscle memory to raise it high enough.

What could she do? There'd be no opening for another shot, and little chance of Franka's arm tiring enough to drop her sword. Block again, try to step sideways instead of back but the dark blade was already there, fencing her in. Blood singing in her ears, cold sweat at the back of her neck and the base of her spine.

Backstep again, thrust with the shield to keep Franka's sword moving in that direction while hopping the other way and at least she was out of the corner but still too close to the wall. She needed something besides her current skillset, but everything she could think of was just theory.

Thermite and this time as she dropped back she stumbled, tumbling, firing wildly to jerk Franka back but the shot was wide and still bought her less than a metre. Could Franka see the slide on the pistol lock open? The ringing of sword on shield was starting to buzz in Liskarm's ears, blurring with the illusory sound of arts boiling up in her blood.

Nothing for it.

As the black sword swerved in again, Liskarm flooded outwards into her shield and through it, a dizzying rush that spilled into her horns until it felt like they'd crack. Blinding light filled the room, and Liskarm's gut convulsed, staggering her. She felt sharp fire like pins and needles burst above her head, heard a burning, electric sound.

Another flash slammed through her, and she reeled, unable to make out Franka's form. The fury of her blood rose instead of falling, like nausea, like screaming. The shield was hot against the back of her arm, etched out of the light in a spotlight shadow. Flash again and more lightning, cutting between the afterimage spots that were all she could see.

It was hard to stand. Her horns felt alive, like hands, full of thrashing sensitivity. Between flashes the room seemed darker and some distant part of Liskarm's brain hoped it was just that she'd fried the lights. She was on her backside on the floor, until the next burst wrenched out of her, spinning her prone onto her side.

When her horn touched the concrete, there was a single sharp prick like the jolt of static from a bare metal handrail, and her raging blood finally subsided. Dazed, eyes ringing, she craned her neck and tried to focus. A low, grey-and-black shape beyond her feet might have been Franka. Gloom in the concrete cell hid confirmation. Where was the duty medic? If Franka-

She couldn't hold her head up. The room was spinning. She couldn't tell if the concrete she rested on was hot or cold. What had she done?

Liskarm sat in a chair by Franka's infirmary bed, hands on her knees and head throbbing. Her horns still tingled as if someone was running fingernails up and down them. Her vision was clear, but it didn't feel clear, the heavy cloud in the front of her brain weighing on her eyeballs.

In the bed, Franka lay unconscious, sedated by the doctors who'd responded to Elegance's emergency call after Liskarm's outburst had stunned the duty medic. The sedation helped with healing arts if they couldn't be administered in the immediate seconds after injury, apparently, and Franka had been badly burned over much of her face and chest.

There would be little sign of the damage when the vulpo woke, and the black tufts on her ears were her natural colouring, not char. Liskarm's stomach roiled again, both at what she'd managed to do to Franka and what she might get in return once her partner did come round.

Elegance had been stern about Liskarm's new art, but over a clearly suppressed enthusiasm. The captain had been insisting for a while that Liskarm ought to be able to do more through her shield. She'd ordered Liskarm to report to arts instruction, but hadn't followed through, and now Liskarm was here instead. It was hard to imagine anything as wild as the lightning flashes that had exploded from her being controllable enough to be useful in the field. Liskarm wasn't sure she wanted to contemplate trying to train it.

"That was a hell of a finisher." Franka murmured from the bed. "You've been holding out on me."

Liskarm looked up to find what was open of Franka's eyes on her. Half-asleep, her usual wry smile looked strangely kind. Liskarm tried to speak and tripped over her own tongue, stammering for a long, hot moment before managing, "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I-"

"Oh shut up." Again, lingering sedation, or maybe just fatigue, muddied Franka's sharpness into something gentler. "I got everything I asked for."

"What-?"

"A duel, right? You didn't forget that part?" Franka's eyelids tightened; she recovered so quickly.

"I almost killed you! I knocked the duty medic out!"

"Seriously?" Franka chuckled at Liskarm's intensity. "That's pretty cool. What was that art?"

"I don't know!" Liskarm realised she was shouting and tried to reel her voice back in. "The arts techs have been trying to get me to try… that." She finished with an awkward wave of her hand.

"Oh my god." Franka pushed herself up onto one shoulder, grinning with all of her normal ferocity. "You. You used an untested, unfinished art rather than lose a duel?"

Voice squeaking through a tight throat, Liskarm managed, "I said- I'm sorry, ok? I just-"

"No, I love it, it's perfect." The vulpo tried to sit up further, but thought better of it. "It's exactly what I want."

"Huh?" Liskarm jerked straight in her chair, struck by the feeling of a small animal on open ground before a predator.

"I keep asking you why you want to work with me, go with me to Rhodes. You want to know what I want? From you?"

Liskarm swallowed. "What?"

"I want to see your discipline break," Franka purred. "I want to see more than occasional glimpses of fire in your eyes. I want to know what will drive you to risk. I want to see the report you won't write, the lie you will tell, the leap you won't look at for a solid minute first before taking." She pushed herself to the edge of the bed, cover sliding off her hospital-gowned shoulder. "I want to drive you wild."

The last word rolled out of Franka's throat like the revving of an engine. Liskarm realised she wasn't breathing, tried to swallow again and produced only a strangled whimper. She stared at the vulpo, at the fall of her tawny hair over her shoulder and the blade-straight line of her eyes.

"You applied to come to Rhodes with me, Lisk." A slow smile rose up Franka's face. "Do you really dare?"

It was Liskarm's turn to narrow her eyes. Somehow, she couldn't feel the headache anymore. "I can handle you."

"Hah! You haven't seen anything yet. But I'm going to show you. I'll show you everything."