Dynamis | Chapter 3 - Anxiety (Patreon)

Karl tried to steady his breathing while Doctor Strobar sat cross-legged in the armchair with a clipboard in her hand. Karl sat across from her in a similar chair, wringing his hands between his legs. It was hard to breathe. Why was the air so warm and stuffy? How many times was she going to twirl that pen?

Please don’t let this get back to Lilibelle.

“Karl? Karl, are you all right?” Strobar asked as she leaned forward and touched his knee. The sudden touch caused Karl to jerk back in response, and Strobar retracted her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine. I’m stuck in my head too much as it is.”

Strobar intertwined her hands in her lap on top of the clipboard. “Take a few deep breaths through your nose, and release them slowly through your mouth.” Karl nodded and did as she asked. After the third exhale, Strober smiled. “Very good. I want this to be a comfortable space for you. Now, is there anything you would like to get off your chest?”

“I don’t feel like Lilibelle listens to me,” he said honestly.

Strobar nodded. “Did you speak to her regarding the last incident?”

“I tried, but she didn’t want to hear it. She kept cutting me off, so I stopped trying.”

“Has anything else happened since? From my records here”—she pulled the first few sheets of paper up to look at something underneath—“you were scheduled for a simulation this morning.” She set the papers down. “Tell me how that went.”

“Not… great. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her since the simulation. She stormed off as soon as we were done. I wasn’t in the mood to track her down, anyway.” He sighed. “It’s obvious she hates me,” he said, gesturing animatedly, “and I have no idea what to do about it.”

“It’s never quite that simple,” she said softly.

“Well, if you have a solution, then I’m willing to hear it,” he snapped. It felt like Strobar was playing the fence-sitter, unwilling to see how unreasonable Lilibelle was acting. When Strobar didn’t answer, he felt like a fool for getting snippy. “Sorry.”

Strobar straightened her posture “I’m here to help you, not judge you. As I said before, this is a safe environment. What I want to do is give you the tools you need to better your situation. Does that make sense?”

Karl nodded again.

“Now,” Strobar said, “tell me what happened this morning to spark the argument.”

Karl cocked his head back. It should’ve been easy to pinpoint the exact moment Lilibelle’s fury took over, but instead he kept going back, wondering if there was something he could’ve done better. Perhaps there was something he did wrong that he hadn’t noticed before. Clinging to the words of encouragement offered to him by Jark and the others, he started over.

“We ran through the simulation, as scheduled. At first, we were doing pretty good. Lilibelle and I were getting along. Our enemies were quick, but we were quicker. I was feeling optimistic about the exercise.” He shrugged. “And then, about fifteen minutes in, we were confronted by an enemy DF. It outmaneuvered us, and Lilibelle got frustrated.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “I tried to calm her down and she just got angrier. I didn’t trust her to make good decisions, so I conserved our energy and refused Lilibelle access to any of the high-powered weaponry she requested.

“She continued to yell at me. I tried for the fifth time to calm her down and gave up, so I yelled back. Our target launched missiles at us, and my mind went blank. I froze up.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Then she kicked the back of my chair and demanded I use the multi-targeting system. I hesitated, but I got it online just in time to stop the missiles from hitting us.”

Strobar nodded. “I see. What happened next?”

“She wanted to use the Cross Saber that we loaded into the simulation. While we had almost no energy left. We argued and I buckled under the pressure. She drew the saber, defeated the unit, and that was the end of it.”

“I see. How did she react afterward?”

Karl smiled wryly. “Not well. She berated me for my inaction and I argued she would’ve gotten us killed in a live scenario. She’s far too reckless, too adamant about destroying the enemy no matter what it takes. I’m afraid she’s going to get us killed eventually.”

Strobar tapped her pen to her bottom lip in thought, held it there for a moment, then nodded to herself. “Let’s go back to when Lilibelle first requested weaponry from you. From the way you describe your situation, I assume you were in the operator position.” Karl nodded and Strobar continued. “Okay. Do you recall where your energy reserves were when Lilibelle first grew frustrated? Before you noticed how low your reserves were.”

“Roughly fifty percent.”

“Okay. Now, I know this will sound like I’m asking you the same questions over and over again, but dig deep and answer honestly. As I’m sure you’re aware, fifty percent is, as Deadeye is concerned, well above the recommended threshold for any energy-based weaponry and maneuvers.” She paused. “When Lilibelle requested said weaponry, why did you refuse her?”

“I got scared,” he said after a pause. “Fighting is so much more terrifying than I expected. I worried what could happen to us, so I thought switching to defense would be a better idea.” He shook his head. “I thought if we were careful and stuck to small arms, we could bait our opponent into defeat. Instead, it gave our opponent time to adjust, and it became harder to keep up the longer the fight went. I’m terrified I’ll mess up and die.”

“You’re not alone.” She started to scribble something on her clipboard, occasionally glancing up at him. “Many new recruits suffer from this.” She halted her pen and leaned forward with rapt attention. “Exposure will be the best therapy for you.”

“So I hear.”

“It’s possible Lilibelle may suffer from anger issues,” Strobar said, surprising him. That felt a little unprofessional, but perhaps spending time among mercenaries had that effect on her. “But that anger rarely comes out of nowhere. Lilibelle is a woman who likes to win. Second place is not an option for her. Considering you rank higher than her in test scores, she may feel conflicted that someone who knows more is performing, in her eyes, poorly.”

Poorly, huh? Ouch.

Karl tried to ignore that last word. “Are you saying that she feels threatened by my presence?”

Strobar nodded. “Yes. Exactly right.” She smiled. “This is unlikely to be something that she will admit. She may not fully understand why she’s upset. I think you should continue to try and reach out to her. She is your partner, after all.”

I’m not sure this is the answer I wanted, but I guess it’s the answer I’m getting.

“How did my report look?” Karl said.

Strobar flipped through the top two pages of her documents. She procured one of the sheets and handed it to him. “Same as before. You are Harmonic.”

Karl took the paper detailing his neurolink results and read each line meticulously. Dozens of graphs and charts measured not only his brain activity, but his ability to merge with the DF. Not a single blip, bug, or inconsistency was found in the neurolink. As before, the difference in patterns in and out of the DF was nonexistent.

Every recruit was required to submit to a neurolink exam. No two mercenary groups could agree on a foolproof vetting process, but the one thing they all agreed on was that the neurolink test was mandatory. A person who didn’t pass was forbidden from operating a DF unit, and attempting to do so could cause permanent brain damage or worse.

Professor Almezer claimed that since Karl was Harmonic, the DF would feel as natural to Karl as his own human body. For what it was worth, he was right. Sitting in the cockpit of a simulated DF felt as normal as running or breathing. It was everything he’d hoped for, and yet…

Doctor Strobar crossed her arms and threw her dark ponytail over her shoulder. “I feel it bears repeating to remind you that these machines don’t make mistakes. We could test you a hundred times and the results would be the same. I know what you’re going through is difficult right now, but if this is something you want to do, then you and Lilibelle need to mend your differences.”

“I understand,” he said after a pause.

“Good.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Our time is almost up, so I’ll quickly summarize my thoughts on your situation. You’re both very talented individuals. When you’re alone, you perform well. But together, the situation comes apart due the wild contrast in your approaches. I think that if you work to find a middle ground, you’ll discover you have much more in common than you think.”

“I… doubt that.” Karl chuckled, which was surprising even to himself.

Lilibelle’s pointed remarks went beyond the cockpit. From the way he ate to what clothes he wore, she acted as if he were a constant thorn in her side. Not one smile was cracked, not one joke told, not a moment of reprieve. Everything was a challenge to her. Not just in the competitive sense, either, but a challenge to her authority, her power, her very being.

And it was exhausting.

To think that they had anything in common was foolhardy. It was a miracle she didn’t have any wrinkles from how often she frowned, and as much as Karl loved the DF units, he didn’t want to spend all of his time in the cockpit being pushed around by some bratty girl who thought she knew it all.

“If this does not work, then I would suggest partner counseling,” Strobar said.

Karl frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. “I didn’t know that was an option.”

“Typically, we wait until you’ve had some experience together, but considering how badly the two of you are clashing, I would make an exception.” She shifted to her other leg. “Having both of you in the same room may help to clear the air.”

Karl shook his head fervently. “N-No. No, no. I’m okay not doing that.” If Lilibelle caught word that he’d seen Strobar on account of her, that would be bad enough. He didn’t want to imagine how much worse the situation could get if the two of them sat down for partner counseling.

Strobar sighed through her nose. “It’s your choice.”

The clock on the wall beeped, indicating it was 4 p.m. “Go get some dinner,” Strobar said. “Clear your head and think about what I said. I think this might be easier than you think.”

“Okay. I’ll keep on keeping on. Thank you for your time.”

“My pleasure.”

Lilibelle wasn’t in the cafeteria, so Karl started for the hangar. Much as he hated to admit it, she seemed to be just as enamored with the DF and its systems as he was. Perhaps eating her dinner within the presence of such machinery would bring her a modicum of comfort. Or maybe he was projecting.

As soon as he stepped into the hangar, he stopped dead in his tracks. Lilibelle perched on a partition that divided the maintenance road from the walkway. A red metal lunchbox sat beside her on the partition while she munched on a sandwich with her hair down. She wore a pink, long sleeve shirt that she scrunched up at the elbows, and a black skirt that fell just above her knee.

He had grown so used to seeing her in a neurosuit that he’d half-wondered if she ever wore casual clothing. Seeing her like that made her feel more human and less robotic. Karl hesitated as Lilibelle whipped her hair over her shoulder to reveal a pair of silver crescents hanging from her ears. Karl brushed the earring that dangled from his left ear—a memento from his late mother—and mentally prepared himself for the worst.

Well, here goes nothing.

He strode forward with what he imagined was the image of confidence—a straight back and leveled shoulders—and came to a stop next to her.

“H-Hello, Lilibelle,” Karl said with a casual wave.

Like a machine whose only purpose was to kill, Lilibelle’s eyes moved, locking onto him. “Ah. The white bread.”

“That again,” he murmured, swallowing the urge to immediately fire back with an insult of his own.

Lilibelle’s head leveled with her gaze, and she crossed one leg over the other. “You’re bothering me.” She waved him away. “Shoo.”

“I’d like to talk for a bit. We have some unsolved grievances,” Karl said.

“Oh?”

“That’s right. And if we’re going to be working together for a while, we should try and mend whatever”—he gestured at the distance between them—“this is. It’s clear that we’re both passionate about this profession, so can we try and start over? From the beginning?”

Lilibelle cocked one brow, clicked her tongue, and looked away. “I’m not the problem. You are.”

What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

“Care to elaborate?” he snapped.

“Sure.” She turned toward him and tossed the sandwich into the lunchbox. “I don’t care what your tests say. You’re a wimp. You overanalyze and break under the tiniest bit of pressure, and we have yet to fight live targets. The sooner you fail, the sooner I can find someone who has balls. Harmonic or not.”

Sorry, Doctor. I’m not taking this.

“It’s going to hurt when you fall and hit the ground,” Karl said.

“The hell do you mean by that?” she snarled.

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“How dare you insult my intelligence?” She rose to her feet and balled her hands at her sides. Karl hoped she’d take a swing at him. He went into this with an optimistic mindset, but now he was raring for a fight.

“It’s pretty easy. You know, considering you’d be willing to strand us for glory.”

“If it means stranding you? In a hot second,” she said, taking a step closer.

“You are impossible, you know that? Don’t you give a damn about the lives you’re taking?” He glared back into those scarlet eyes, convinced that her priorities were in the wrong place. “Did it not occur to you at some point that the next job you take could pit you up against another person like you?”

“Of course I have!” she cried. “But what am I supposed to do about it? I can cry all day and say ‘Oh woe is me!’ or I can do something useful and make a difference! We have jobs to do, money to make, Fiends to kill!” She pressed her finger into his chest, and it took everything he had not to bat it away. “And you’re holding. Me. Back.”

“You think I don’t want to stop the Fiends?” Karl scoffed. The pure audacity of this girl was unreal. Fifty years had passed since the Fiend threat first emerged. There wasn’t a day that went by that someone didn’t die at the hands of those horrible creatures. He was no exception from their slaughter. “Why do you think we’re all here? Just to make some credits?”

“Oh, that’s so cute!” Lilibelle reached forward and pinched his cheek. “So trusting. So innocent. Moron.” This time, Karl slapped her hand away.

“Don’t touch me. If you do that again, you’re not going to like what happens next.”

“Big talk for a guy who’s as tall as me. What’s it like, living in a fantasy world?”

“You tell me,” Karl challenged. “Deadeye thought we’d make a good team, but you seem determined to sabotage that. Or are you implying that you somehow know better than Deadeye? Do you think you’re above them?”

Lilibelle snatched his wrist. Karl held his ground as she held his hand at eye level, drawing close enough until their faces were inches apart. Her skin was smooth and milky-white, her eyes ablaze with determination. A hint of peanut butter lingered on her breath, and Karl sucked in his lips, trying not to laugh.

“You think something’s funny?” Lilibelle snapped. The remains of a peanut were lodged between two of her teeth. Oh, this was good.

Karl licked his upper lip and leaned closer. “You have a peanut stuck between your two front teeth.”

Lilibelle blinked twice, let go of his wrist, then covered her mouth with both hands. In a matter of seconds, her face went from pasty white to apple red. She squealed and mumbled a number of unintelligible noises before turning tail and dashing away.

He looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in the lunchbox, noting a crumpled-up piece of brown paper. He thought about letting the sandwich dry out until it was no longer appetizing, but in case some karmic force was watching over him, he unfurled the paper and wrapped up the sandwich, then threw it back into the box and snapped it shut.

The conversation went about as well as he expected, but at least he learned something today.

Lilibelle was absolutely capable of shame.