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For once, Sabina is no longer by Shaddiq’s side. She has spent years as his shadow, and now, alone as she is in her jail cell, Sabina wonders if she still has enough substance to cast one of her own.
They haven’t let her see her comrades yet, but her jailers did allow her a small blue notebook and pen (if they saw what Norea could do with one, Sabina wonders if they would still let her have her own). To fill the time, Sabina writes.
She begins with a post-op of their last mission. Objective: to move Sarius Zenelli to the designated rendezvous point. Outcome: failure, with the enemy capture of all allied units and the mission target.
Sabina had her misgivings from the start when Shaddiq was planning contingencies if they were discovered. The Group still hadn’t fully caught on, and to pin Plant Quetta or any of the other attacks on House Grassley would require a burden of evidence that was difficult to muster. Shaddiq had created distance between him and Dawn of Fold with Nika, and his other collaborator within the Group had been killed by his own son.
Releasing Norea would cause chaos and draw away enemy combatants, but it was a gamble that would leave them exposed if she wasn’t able to last as long as they hoped. And as for the students that would be killed...Sabina tried not to linger too much on that detail. Her hands were bloody enough as it was.
Shaddiq never let the deaths bother him. Sabina had gotten used to it as well, or at least she thought she did. Perhaps Nika’s defiant words, in their last and only real conversation, stirred her dormant conscience. (Sabina refuses to call it their final one. Hope springs eternal, even now).
Quinharbor, and Prospera Mercury, forced their plans to change. Miorine’s failure meant that the Space Assembly League would only become more impatient. They had to move Sarius earlier than anticipated.
And the dark look that clouded Shaddiq’s face as they prepared to launch didn’t escape her notice. Sabina knew that expression well, rare as its appearance was in her years with Shaddiq. It was a look that betrayed his desire for violence as an end, not a means.
Sabina has few good memories from her time at the Grassley orphanage, but the hours spent in the dojo account for many of them. Martial arts training was mandatory for prospective piloting students. It trained many of the same neural pathways, she was told. Hand-to-hand combat would also be a useful skill if they ended up outside their MS in a skirmish.
Their instructor was an old military type. He was gruff, but not unkind, and Sabina suspected his guilt caused him to be patient, unlike many of their other teachers. Patience was certainly necessary when it came to instructing her, at least back in those days.
Sabina had been in many a fight before she stepped foot in the dojo, and it was hard to unlearn all the bad habits she had picked up from her brawls. She had relied on her size to win without paying much attention to technique and it showed in her strikes.
“You’re swinging too wide.”
“Your power comes from the hips; you’re not shifting your weight properly.”
“You’re dropping your guard during your kicks; you’ll get knocked out if you keep that up.”
Sabina resisted his guidance at first, but she swallowed her pride after seeing Shaddiq, small as he was, use their training with much success against one of the more annoying schoolyard bullies. Under their sensei’s instruction, Sabina’s movements lost their previous sloppiness.
The discipline of martial arts suited her, as well as athleticism required. Sabina loved the subtle burn in her limbs after completing another set of punches, and the sensation of nailing a difficult kick.
When it came time to spar, Sabina jumped at the chance to show her physical superiority. She barely paid attention to their instructor’s words as he laid out the ground rules.
All the hours spent on drills had paid off. At the start of the round, Sabina quickly shot out a side kick to her opponent’s thigh, and then feinted another on the same side to the head. He was unused to her speed, and scrambled to block the second kick that never came. That gap in his guard was just what she needed to send a thundering cross that landed squarely on the chin.
He stumbled down on the mat. The ground game was next. Sabina wasn’t much of a grappler, but she didn’t need much skill with wrestling to engage in a little ground and pound. She didn’t have a chance to throw another strike, however, before she was hauled off of her opponent by her instructor.
Sensei was as angry as Sabina had ever seen him.
“Sparring isn’t about trying to beat your partner into a pulp,” he growled. “It’s an opportunity to learn how to fight in a safe, controlled environment.”
Sabina felt indignant at his admonishment. “I thought we were learning how to hurt others. That’s all I was doing.”
He sighed. Sensei loosened his grip on her shoulders, turning her around so he could look her in the eyes.
“Violence for violence’s sake should never be the sole aim. When you go out there into combat, it’s not about how many people you can kill, or satisfying some feeling.”
His grip on Sabina’s shoulder tightened again. “Violence is a means, horrible as it often is, to hopefully accomplish a nobler end. Never lose sight of that.”
She wanted to ask, “Is that how you Spacians justify all the orphans you’ve left on Earth?”
Sabina nods instead.
Later, after she notches another pilot downed, she thinks back to his words. Would he be proud of how many she’s cut down for her and Shaddiq’s grand quest? Sabina doubts it, but she’s done no worse than any Spacian foot soldier.
They have a just cause, which is more than any of those butchers from Space can claim.
Sabina had sparring sessions with Shaddiq daily, if their schedules permitted, and weekly if not. Their arrangement dated back to the orphanage and the habit had stuck throughout their time at Asticassia. These days, Sabina no longer has the height or weight advantage on Shaddiq, though she’s still the better striker. Once the fight goes to the ground, however, Sabina admits she’s no match for him. Shaddiq delighted in the jigsaw puzzle strategy of holds, locks, and counters, where Sabina relied mostly on intuition to guide her way through grappling.
Shaddiq liked to use surprise to his advantage in fights. He would build fake tells and false weaknesses into his game, and then catch his opponent off guard once they tried to capitalize on the information he fed them. His tricks were no use on Sabina, of course, but that only made their sparring more fun for him. She remembers Shaddiq grinning through a bloody nose (she couldn’t pull her front kick in time as he tried to wrap her hips for a throw) and asking for another round. Sabina couldn’t take him seriously with tissues stuffed up his nose.
On the mat, they faced each other as equals, with none of the baggage that cluttered the rest of their lives. It was a relief not to put up their usual walls, not to fake the usual conversations, or pretend to be people they weren’t. Stripped down, they could delight in the exchange of blows without interference.
Sabina matched punch for punch, kick for kick, slipping and weaving Shaddiq’s strikes and avoiding his attempts to bring her down. Even with the advances in Permet technology, piloting Benguir-Pente never gave her the same satisfaction as moving her own body for a well-timed strike.
Sabina sparred with the other girls as well, though it wasn’t the same. Shaddiq offered a challenge, and a familiarity, that they simply couldn’t.
There had been better options if they wanted to move Sarius, but Sabina allowed herself to believe that engaging with Guel was their best. Shaddiq was so good at making his path seem like the only one that existed, and his decisions as your own.
Being Shaddiq’s right hand required Sabina to know him better than she knew herself. Which is why she should’ve seen their failure coming from the start.
In the moment, Sabina thought that the plan would prevail.
They were outnumbered, yes, but the girls were holding up against the Dominicus forces. Shaddiq seemed like he had the upper hand on Guel (and Sabina cannot deny the thrill of seeing the spoiled brat pinned by Michaelis). Hearing Jeturk talk about sharing the burden of their sins, like he had any idea what they had done, what his family had done, was too much.
That anger from the old days returned, and she doesn’t see Dariblade’s sword drones until it’s too late.
Sabina’s pen pauses.
It would be all too easy to put the blame for the mission failure on Shaddiq, but that would deny Sabina’s own shortcomings as his second. If she had been a better pilot, if she had convinced Shaddiq not to engage Guel, if she had stopped him from ordering their prisoners free, then they would not be locked up here and Nika would be safe. If, if, if.
The letters seem to taunt her from the page.
Sabina leaves the section for “areas for improvement” blank.
She tries to write a letter to Nika, once.
(After Sabina learns that she still lives from the interrogator who intimated about their “former DoF ally” working with Commander Avery back on Asticassia.)
(She tried hard, so hard, not to show the palpable relief that burst from her chest. It is the only time she breaks during one of the sessions.)
Not that Sabina really thinks that her jailers are amenable to doing her the favor of sending it over. They’re short staffed as it is, something about a “Quiet Zero” situation that’s pulled the bulk of the Dominicus forces away. The fact that she tried to kill many of their coworkers earlier would also not endear her to them.
Knowing that, she writes anyway. How to start? With an apology?
“So sorry I almost got you killed three times...”
“I should have warned you about Norea...”
Words never came easy to her (that was Shaddiq), but the larger issue was that there was too much left unsaid between her and Nika.
In an effort to make amends for lost time, she starts from the very beginning. Sabina writes about her time at the Grassley orphanage, and meeting Shaddiq. She writes about the early formulations of their quest for the end of Spacian tyranny. Sabina describes a girl who once believed in shiny ideals, until cruel reality forced her to turn to methods with a harder edge. Sabina lays out all the immoral and awful things she’s done, including many that Nika experienced herself.
She tells her about falling in love from a distance.
How much Sabina likes the blue of her eyes, and her hair. Her laugh, and how disappointing it was to never hear it again before Sabina ended up in a Cathedra jail.
All the places back on Earth she would take her if they got the chance.
Sabina has to cross out and restart so many sentences that she worries about running out of pages, if not ink. It’s not quite the letter she wished Nika could read. Certainly, it doesn’t approach the flowery missives Sabina dreamt about leaving on Nika’s doorstep.
But for once, Sabina feels free to speak her own mind, no longer shackled to a part she increasingly is unwilling to play. If they meet again—when they meet again—it won’t be with a sword hanging over their heads.
Maybe, if she asks nicely, a guard will be willing to secret Sabina’s inadequate words off to Nika. Another message for her go-between to secure.
After a week (it’s hard to keep track in the artificial atmosphere of the Dominicus ship, but Sabina makes a note of how many meals she’s been served), their jailers finally let Sabina and the rest of her comrades out of their cells for something other than another interrogation.
It was good to get out and see the others, even if their jail’s version of a yard was little more than an empty room. Sabina had gotten tired of the endless, monotonous questioning that was the only event that broke up her days. She had made a game out of guessing what interrogators belonged to which faction and Sabina was looking forward to comparing notes with the others.
Evidently Dominicus doesn’t see them as much of a threat because they allow the would-be revolutionists the small mercy of taking their cuffs off. Renee is checking out her nails, chatting with Henao about which of their interrogators she found the most attractive and which of them could be convinced to fall for her (Sabina doesn’t agree with any of her choices). Maisie and Ireesha are clinging to each other as tightly as ever, which doesn’t surprise her after their (relatively) long separation. Shaddiq stands alone in the middle.
“Sabina! I’ve been waiting for you.”
Shaddiq looks tired, but in better spirits than she thought he’d be considering the circumstances. Sabina doesn’t know how she should treat him now, doesn’t know if she can quite forgive him for everything that’s transpired.
Shaddiq smiles. Despite herself, she steps forward to meet him. The role of right hand slips on her, stretching at the seams.
“We’ve missed a week’s worth of sparring sessions. I hope you haven’t gotten rusty while we’ve been stuck in our cells.”
“I could say the same of you, Shaddiq.”
He laughs, too loudly in response to what she said.
“You’ll have to spar me to find out.”
“We don’t have gloves or shin guards.”
“Grappling only then. BJJ rules.”
Sabina snorts. Even now, Shaddiq is still taking the advantage? She wouldn’t make it easy for him, especially not if he was expecting the win.
“Fine.”
They line up in the middle, tapping their fists like always. Sabina crouches, facing Shaddiq.
There’s still a faint smile on his face, though she wouldn’t say it was the one of a victor. Sabina has no time to analyze it further before they both lunge forward.
Ever since her first mistake back at the orphanage, Sabina prided herself on control over power when it came to sparring. Her rounds with Shaddiq were fast, light, and technical, neither of them interested in injuring the other party.
Sabina had thought she was over the emotional impulse to hurt, but she finds herself tempted. Not enough to break a bone (though it would only be fair considering what Nika went through), but there were other ways to manipulate a person’s limbs that would cause pain, if not permanent damage.
In a normal ground session, Sabina likely wouldn’t be given a chance to do even that. Shaddiq was simply too skilled.
Something’s not right, however. Shaddiq has none of his usual sharpness, more so than a week away from the mat would explain.
It’s a flurry of grabbing hands and flipping bodies from the outside, but all Sabina can notice is how slow Shaddiq is. She keeps waiting, waiting for him to counter, to put her in hold she can’t escape. He’s only going through the motions.
With a shift, Sabina takes Shaddiq’s back. Anticipating his countermove she waits, and when it doesn’t come, Sabina places Shaddiq in a rear naked hold. Her arm tightens around his neck.
It would only take a few more seconds if Sabina wanted to kill him now. It wouldn’t be seen as justice, not in any civilized society, but they had never pretended that they lived in one, even if the Spacians did. An eye for an eye, isn’t that what they lived by, Shaddiq?
The history books would vindicate her, she’s certain. Sabina can see it written out in one of those tomes the orphanage teachers assigned: “Overcome with righteous anger over all those slaughtered through Shaddiq Zenelli’s dark machinations, Sabina Fardin acted as judge, jury, and executioner, and put an end to one of the more infamous butchers of innocents in recent memory. While Fardin herself was party to many of the massacres, she redeemed herself by avenging those who lost their lives to the younger Zenelli.”
Sabina feels the tap on her arm.
She lets go.
(Miorine said that Shaddiq didn’t trust anybody but himself. Sabina wonders again if she was right.)
When she gets up, Shaddiq is still wearing that same faint smile. Sabina remembers where she saw it before.
“I should’ve dueled for Miorine’s hand in the first place, huh Sabina?”
“You could’ve easily beaten that oaf Jeturk. But now...”
He wore the same smile back then, when he returned from Rembran’s greenhouse after they lost the 6v6 duel.
Ah, it really is over then.
Shaddiq sits up, cross-legged on the floor.
“I’ve made a trade with Miorine. My freedom for the continuation of our crusade.”
The other girls stop their conversations. Sabina can only stare in disbelief.
“She agreed to do everything, just as we planned. All she needs is my confession that will bring all the necessary players together.”
“Naturally, she’ll need some help carrying everything out. I put my trust in all of you to fulfill our quest, since I won’t be by her side.”
Was this always the plan, Shaddiq? Sabina could see what he must have envisioned: Rembran, standing tall as Earth’s savior. His lovely Miorine, given one last favor that only he could bestow. Was it out of love, out of desperation, this agreement? Or was it the realization that the Spacians would never take anyone seriously who wasn’t one of their own?
“I am just as complicit in this as you, Shaddiq, I don’t see how—”
“Consider it an award for your loyalty all these years, Sabina. You don’t deserve to go down with me.”
Shaddiq reaches out his hand. Sabina takes it, pulls him up.
The guards are at the door. Their free time is over, but Sabina still lingers, holding on to Shaddiq.
He lets go.
“It was always bound to catch up with me eventually, Sabina. I couldn’t keep finding others to take the blame.”
Oh, sweet prince. Martyrdom suits you all too well.
Sabina is released not long after with the rest of the Valkyries. Miorine is there to greet them, in her prim business attire.
“Hello. I expect Shaddiq has filled you in on the plan?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. I’ll explain the rest once we get back to headquarters.”
Dominicus gave them back their old Asticassia uniforms, which they were wearing now. It felt better than their prison suits, but the cape and gloves sat uncomfortably on Sabina. It felt wrong to be still in the costume of a role she no longer had to play.
Entering the transfer ship, Sabina notices that the coordinates were for the school.
“I’m not sure the students will be thrilled to see us, after all we’ve done.”
“Most have left at this point. It’s just Earth House and a couple of stragglers. You won’t be met with an angry horde, although you might prefer that to Chuchu.”
The corner of Sabina’s lips twitches up.
“You might be right about that.”
Renee groans.
“Ugh, that little puffball is so annoying. Not more than that Lilique of course, but...”
Henao smirks and leans over her seat.
“Oh, you still haven’t gotten over that crush, have you?”
“Shut up.”
Bickering ensues, and Sabina takes the opportunity to pull Miorine off to the side.
“Nika—Ms. Nanaura. Is she well?”
“I didn’t realize you were close.”
“In a word.”
“Nika’s fine, she finally got that cast off. It’s just...” Miorine trails off.
Sabina notices the flicker of frustration on her face that Miorine doesn’t bother to hide.
“Just?”
“I told her that she didn’t have to go to prison, but she insisted. She’s barely even healed from getting her arm broken! Chuchu is especially upset, and Suletta’s just barely conscious, but Nika already left to go serve out her sentence.”
Miorine lets out a sigh.
“She can be so damn stubborn when she wants to be.”
Sabina breaks out into a smile, and Miorine seems somewhat taken aback (is it really that surprising?).
“She really can.”
Henao and Renee’s argument seems to be petering out. Not as many angry exclamations from Renee. Maisie and Ireesha are cuddled up in one chair, although that doesn’t seem wise from a safety standpoint.
Sabina figures she has time to ask one last question.
“Will Ms. Nanaura be able to receive any letters?”
Sabina sends Nika a version of the letter she wrote in her cell, although she omits the various crimes (Miorine had already pulled a lot of strings to get her and the girls out, she didn’t need to create anymore liabilities).
Nika sends her one back, filled with all the details Sabina couldn’t glean from Naji’s file, or her observations at Asticassia.
Nika tells her that she likes her braid, and Sabina swears not to get a different haircut for the rest of her life.
They compare favorite places on Earth. (For Sabina, the sea. Nika likes the mountains better).
Sabina learns about Nika’s prison friends. (Many are Dawn of Fold conspirators or affiliates. Sabina tells Nika to use her name if she ever gets threatened by one of her fellow inmates, and Nika seems incredulous that anyone would know a Sabina Fardin in a Spacian prison).
“You weren’t even in prison, just a Dominicus holding cell.”
(They know Sabina).
Nika checks on how her Earth House friends are doing. (Surprisingly well, considering everything they went through).
She also asks Sabina to look after Chuchu.
“I’m worried that she might into more fights if I’m not there to keep her in check.”
(Sabina does not tell Nika about the time Chuchu enlists her help to take care of some particularly odious Spacians at one of her work assignments. They win the 2v5 brawl handedly).
(Sabina does tell Nika that she and Chuchu have started sparring regularly).
Sabina tells Nika about her work with Miorine. Her experience in the corporate realm is immensely helpful, as well as her underground contacts on Earth. She’s not quite Miorine’s right hand, as that space was already taken by her wife, but they have mutual understanding that is something close to it.
For what it's worth, Sabina also gets asked for her opinion much more than when she served Shaddiq.
If she has one frustration, it is that Miorine takes a shockingly blasé approach when it comes to her own safety. They have enemies from all sides, and the Spacian factions are especially unhappy after what Miorine pulled with the dissolution of Benerit Group. Miorine refuses to have a security detail (“What is this, an active warzone?”) and resists the idea of the Valkyries carrying any weapons (“You guys are supposed to be my aides”).
Miorine does relent in the end, and Sabina is sure glad for the gun at her side after she manages to foil an assassination attempt that got past their counterintelligence team.
Nika makes her promise to only use violence as a last resort. Sabina is only happy to comply.
When Nika finally gets the date of her release, it just so happens to be on a day that conflicts with Sabina’s work schedule.
“Hey, you’ve waited three years. What’s a couple more hours?”
It’s been more than just three years. But they have a lifetime ahead to make up for it.
Miorine insists on the girls getting a new wardrobe.
“You can’t work with me looking like a bunch of Grassley drones.”
The tailor she takes them to is as luxurious as you would expect from the former Benerit princess. The walls are filled to the brim with fabric samples, and elegant model after elegant model sit in their stands with the latest fashions on display.
This might be the happiest Sabina’s seen her comrades in a while. For a moment, they seem like the teenagers in a clothing shop that they are.
Fingers brushing against the multicolored swatches, Sabina thinks back to a conversation she had with Shaddiq on the night of the incubation party.
“Black, navy, gray. These are the colors we wear to do battle in the corporate realm because they imply sobriety and formality.”
“Brown is a casual color, dating back to when it was worn by the ancient nobility when they went hunting. It looks especially good in the shoulder seasons, but we don’t really have those in space, do we?”
“Tan should be reserved solely for warm weather suiting, but again, it doesn’t apply off Earth. Once you move past the neutrals, you push things past what would normally be accepted in a formal business setting.”
Shaddiq adjusted his tie in the mirror.
“That’s only for us men, of course. Womenswear is a little more free.”
Sabina snorted. “You can call it freedom if you’d like, but it stems from the idea that we should just be pretty little creatures who flit about for your pleasure.”
Shaddiq laughed.
“I, for one, would simply like to wear something more fun than this boring black suit. At least I got it with a different toned lapel.”
With his hair pulled back, neat and tidy, Shaddiq fit the bit of the dutiful Grassley scion. Sabina reached to fix his shirt collar poking out of the back.
“Thank you. Now, do I look good enough to impress my father and all his stogy old friends?”
“Something like that.”
Sabina gets an all-purpose black suit, and another one done in tan.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get a matching cape and gloves?” asks Renee, teasing.
“Not necessary.”
She no longer is Shaddiq’s knight, or military officer. She is acting as a bridge between Space and Earth and needs the uniform to suit.
Sabina learned from Nika that there was nothing good, or true to be won with a power that seeks to dominate, rather than build understanding.
Nika’s hair is cut short. It’s cute.
Sabina waits for her as the others depart for the evening.
Takes her hand, warm against her bare skin.
“Welcome back.”