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rested not to escape her duties as a leader, but to forget the simulation she would have to face.
    When the time came, she banged on the door of each Orthran, announcing, “Simulation in five minutes.” It was one simulation she wouldn’t mind skipping, and if Cyrus and Celeste arrived just a moment or two late, she would demonstratively cancel the session with a great deal of relief.
    “What’s the simulation?” Cyrus yelled from his room.
    “You’ll see,” Crystil said, half to deflect the question and half because she hadn’t bothered to examine the details of their simulation.
    “Crystil?”
    The commander ignored Celeste as she stomped through the hallway, her eyes set on every task in front of her so she could wrap up the simulation quickly. She pressed her hand upon the panel and became unusually anxious when the verification process took the fifteen seconds it usually did.
    “Wel—”
    “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Crystil Bradford,” she said as she hurried to the back of the training room. She had everything on, including the helmet, albeit not attached to the suit, when she heard Cyrus and Celeste enter the room.
    “Just hurry up and equip yourselves,” she said, the helmet muffling her voice.
    She clicked the helmet on, waited, and found herself in a thicket of tall trees, with branches too high to reach. She was in bare feet, shorts, and a ragged tank top. The simulation had offered her no protection. She didn’t even get a knife, let alone a gun, to defend herself. Cyrus and Celeste appeared a few seconds later.
    “Don’t get fancy today, not even a little bit,” she said.
    She looked them up and down, measuring them. They each had similar clothes to her—tanktops, shorts, and no shoes. What surprised her, though, was how ready and girded they look. All of the attitude which Cyrus usually brought had vanished, and even Celeste didn’t look her nervous self. She had her eyes steeled on Crystil, ready to do anything. Now we’re talking.
    “Go ahead, Cortanus,” she said.
    Just don’t put the nakar in there.
    “Your objective in this simulation is to reach the safety of your ship, about a hundred yards away. However, in the process, you will have to avoid panteras, balicae and, should you venture near the swamp, nakar.”
    Crystil’s mind immediately flashed back. That scream. I had her hand, and then… I had only her hand.
    “Early in this simulation, you are safe, but be aware, the balicae are hunting for you, and they may pick up on your scent. Inertia will prove just as deadly as recklessness. You have no weapons, though you may use whatever you may find. Good luck.”
    Crystil took a deep breath, sighed, and looked at the plains. She saw three balicae roaming, their noses to the ground, strolling with steady, careful steps. The four-legged creatures in black fur and red stripes inspired fear just by looking at them—one didn’t have to see their sharp claws and their pointed incisors to tremble. Further out, two white-colored panteras, also four-legged creatures, smaller than the balicae but still dangerous, rested on the plains. She could see the ship, a replica of Omega One , but everything deadly waited in between. To their left, about fifty feet from where they stood, was the swamp.
    She would’ve rather attacked the balicae alone than go into the swamp with Cyrus and Celeste. Just seeing the swamp made her sweat.
    She turned to Cyrus and Celeste and motioned for them to huddle, but with a finger on her lips. They crept over, looking down at their feet at every step. When they got close enough, Crystil put her arms around them and brought them down low.
    “Listen, we can’t fight our way through, that’s not going to happen.”
    “Even I know that,” Cyrus said, but without any of the smiles or ensuing laughs.
    Crystil nodded, but something about him didn’t feel right. Even without the laughs, he still looked way too confident for the mission. Am I projecting on him? Or is