“The Junguan, The Kansho, The Walls - honor these three.” -- Baolian Proverb

A decade had passed since Zihao left his position as first kansho of the first squad to become Junguan. From his office overlooking the military zone, between the walls, Zihao watched the numbers scroll across his timeworn computer display. Six dead. Four hundred eleven spiders. His barred window provided a view of the kansho’ spartan barracks, the battered inner and outer wall, and the space between the two walls, called the Ward. Zihao copied the numbers from the screen to a scrap of paper, then brought up another computer screen, titled: training records. Ten years ago, if Jin had told me being Junguan meant pushing buttons on screens while sitting watching others work, I would have never accepted. The computer screen flickered, Zihao smacked the side of the display, and the text stabilized. He counted the number of kansho candidates, estimated one in three would pass the qualification pit, projected the number of dead over the next month.

Plus twelve. The kansho should cull the spider population sufficiently and net a dozen new kansho. This is going to be a good month. Sometimes Zihao felt like they were getting ahead. Some months, it felt like they were losing. It would be easier if we had more than two working Junguan.

Five years ago when Junguan Xian died, Jin chose that woman, Yuan, for the open Junguan position. Yuan had failed as a kansho and had pursued her own interests, abandoning the citizens, and secreting herself amidst piles of useless junk. Zihao reminded Jin that the Junguan had a responsibility to lead the kansho and protect the city, not sit and think on old what-ifs. I’ve never seen Yuan in the Ward. She sits in her bubble and thinks.

After the first year had passed and Yuan still refused to lead the kansho, Zihao hoped Jin would recognize his mistake, but Jin seemed oblivious. Five years later, Zihao still had to put up with that woman, her demands for daily reports on spider kills, and her ridiculous requests to examine spider carcasses before they were processed.

He shook his head at no one and sent the report to Yuan.

I’ll talk to Jin again tomorrow.

Kyrsia ran her fingers through her short black hair. Thin pink scars covered her arms, legs, and face, badges from her years of warrior training. With hellfire red eyes, she watched Jin, her adopted father, through the window. Wisps of steam circled his scarred face and black and silver hair. She caught the scent of fish and vinegar. Kyrsia inhaled and smiled.

When cooking, Jin had always told her stories about his time with her long dead biological father. “Your father was a great kansho. He and I served together before I became Junguan,” Jin would reminisce. “He was strong and fast.”

Not strong enough. Not fast enough. Or he wouldn’t be dead.

As Lili entered the kitchen, Jin tousled his daughter’s hair and smiled. Lili was his younger daughter, his real daughter, although Jin never differentiated. Kyrsia could see Jin speaking, but not hear him. A fat drop of rain splashed on her cheek, then her arm. The ground spotted with rain. Kyrsia let herself in the three-room house without knocking.

Lili loped over to Kyrsia and smashed into her with all the force a six-year old girl could muster. Kyrsia lifted her over her head and kissed her. Jin continued preparing breakfast. “I wondered if you were planning on standing in the rain all morning. Have you eaten?”

“Stay for breakfast, Kay.” Lili pulled out a chair. “An’s here. We have a lot of food.”

Kyrsia sat. An appeared from the bedroom and smiled at Kyrsia. Kyrsia didn’t know much about Jin’s girlfriend, other than she was a kansho, was a few years older than Kyrsia, and had cropped her hair in the near-shaved, unisex style of the rangers. And Lili liked her. She can’t be all bad if Lili likes her.

“I test tomorrow. My second test,” Kyrsia said.

“I’m aware.” Jin pushed a bowl of greens salted with bits of fish in front of Kyrsia. “You’ll be fine. You’re a very skilled fighter.”

“I remember my kansho test,” An said. “It’s very important. Good luck.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think they will pass me. No matter what.” Kyrsia stared down at the bowl, unwilling to meet Jin’s gaze. “Would you come? If you’re there, at least they’ll be fair.”

Jin thought long enough that Kyrsia feared he would say “no”.

“I’ll come watch,” An said, filling the uncomfortable silence.

Jin said, “I’ll see what I can do. Now eat.”

An smiled at Kyrsia and Kyrsia forced a smile in return. Her stomach still in knots, Kyrsia pushed the food around the bowl. Tomorrow. What will happen tomorrow?

After breakfast, Jin walked to the city center and stood in front of the pitted metal dome jutting out of the bedrock. The dome still contained archaic fusion generators which powered the city, but everything else had been cannibalized long ago. The empty spaces of the building had became a dump of sorts, filled with centuries old technology, failed bits of electronics, worn out machinery, and assorted orphaned bits whose purpose had been lost in time. Jin had seldom needed to come to the dome before Yuan. As a matter of practicality, the Junguan, the military leaders of the city, spent their time among the kansho, in the Ward between the two walls. The kansho had no use for the ancient metal dome in the center of Baoli. When he did pass by the dome, Jin thought the titanium shell felt alien, out of place in the city, and he avoided it when he could.

When Fu Qin died, Yuan had taken residence in the abandon building. She had cleared the worst of the detritus, cobbled together a functional computer system, salvaged a laboratory, and abandoned all of her previous life in pursuit of something that would stop the spiders. Then five years ago, despite Zihao’s objections, Jin selected Yuan to join the Junguan. Yuan had claimed the dome as her office and research center.

Jin felt Yuan was right about the future despite his friend’s protests. The kansho had made little headway against the spiders, the plant life on this world was nearly as indestructible as the spiders, the population of Baoli stretched the food production capacity to its limits, and unless they found a new way of thinking, this would be life on Baoli forever: a single city on a hostile world, fighting a neverending war for survival.

Jin needed to speak with Yuan, which required going to her research center in the center of Baoli. He knew Yuan could be found there. She only left the dome when she could not avoid leaving: to teach at the academy or to perform her duties as Junguan,. She slept here, ate here, and worked here. Jin found Yuan sitting, as always, in the small space she had claimed as her office, reviewing the information brought back by his kansho. Jin thought the obsession had taken a toll on her. Lack of sunshine had turned her skin pale and she had long streaks of grey in her formerly black hair.

“Good morning, Yuan.” Jin always felt like he was interrupting Yuan. She didn’t turn from her work until he spoke.

Yuan finished jotted a note, then turned toward Jin. “Unusual seeing you here.”

Jin took the unoffered chair. “I would like to ask a favor. Kansho candidate testing is tomorrow. I would like you to be the third.” Jin volunteered to be one of the three kansho to evaluate the suitability of candidates before they were allowed outside the wall. The Junguan rarely judged these events, but no one would deny him his request.

“I’m sorry, but I’m very busy.” Yuan waved her hand over the stacks of papers. “Shouldn’t first kansho handle this? Why are you even involved?”

“Kyrsia’s testing. I want to be there. It’s important to her. And to me. She failed once and I wasn’t there. I told her I would come. I gave her my word.” Although Lili was his daughter by birth, Kyrsia felt like his daughter too. When Jin’s mate died during childbirth, Kyrsia had cared for Lili like she was her sister. Being the judge for Kyrsia was the least he could do.

Yuan sighed. “I understand. Who’s the second judge?”

“Zihao insisted on being the second when I told him I was the first. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him, but he’s my friend. I don’t think Zihao will pass her, no matter what.”

“Zihao isn’t unfair, but he has very strong opinions about the way things should be. His ability to imagine anything different is limited. I’ll come.”

“I’m not asking you to pass her. I just want to make sure that someone impartial is the third.”

“I know you weren’t asking that. I’ll be fair, but Zihao won’t believe that I’m impartial.”

“I know. I’ll handle Zihao. He won’t say much. Thank you.”

Huddled with the other testing candidates, Kyrsia pressed through the city crowds toward the wall. As the phalanx of teens passed into the shadow of the Wall, the students’ banter abated. Kyrsia couldn’t see, with her head lower than the rest of the crowds shoulders. Even so, she knew when they passed into the double gate, and then to the kansho’s ward between the two walls. With the crushing throng of the city absent, the Ward opened before her. Kyrsia had seldom entered the secure zone between the walls as kansho hurried civilians out. After testing, the best of them would be accepted into the kansho ranks and leave the life of a city dweller, to live and die inside the Ward.

Once between the walls, the group slowed and spread out. The pressed flesh absent Krysia shivered. The two walls shrouded the Ward in shadow, making the air hauntingly cold. Kyrsia knew many of the students had never seen the Ward before, but she had. She pushed out of the mass of students to the front.

“In a hurry, Little Girl? You can warm them up for me, if you want.” Ren’s derisive smile elicited a laugh from his companions. “If you’re alive after, you and I can celebrate. Privately.”

Kyrsia rolled her eyes at Ren.

“Why are you bothering? You’re tiny. Too tiny to fight, not too tiny to...” As Ren reached out to grope Kyrsia, she twisted his thumb and hand, and wrenched his elbow behind him. Ren dropped to a knee and gritted his teeth against the pain.

Kyrsia put her lips against Ren’s ear. “Don’t make me break it. Not before you need to fight.” She released the elbow lock.

“Joking.” Ren brushed himself off. “After the test, let’s celebrate my win. Together.” Ren raised an eyebrow alluding to the type of celebration he had in mind.

“Not interested. Ever.” Kyrsia peered over the edge of the hexagonal combat pit. Those testing for the first time, moved aside, wanting to see others test before them. Kyrsia did the same thing when she first tested. She had hoped going later would be an advantage. It hadn’t.

Beneath her, inside the pit, a two-meter wide ledge circled the top of the arena. Kyrsia counted two dozen veteran kansho clustered in small groups of twos and threes.The kansho watched for entertainment, sometimes betting on the candidates. She lowered herself into the pit. An stood in the cluster nearest the combat judges.

In the space reserved for the combat judges, Kyrsia saw the Junguan: Jin, her mentor and the closest she had to family; Zihao, an arrogant man who seemed offended at her existence; and Yuan, who sometimes taught at the academy, but remained hidden away in the research center most of the time. The Junguan led the people of Baoli, represented the best of strategic and tactical military thought. The Junguan would judge the test. I didn’t mean for Jin to judge me! She felt the weight of this test and knew her success or failure would reflect on Jin. She wanted to make Jin proud.

Kyrsia admired the Junguans’ scars. Scars were badges of honor and age and the Junguan were covered in jagged combat scars. Her own arms and legs bore fresh scars, pink and young, but thick old scars, deep and white, criss-crossed the Junguan’s faces and necks and chests. Acid burn scars blanketed Zihao’s exposed shoulder. Kyrsia looked at her smooth and straight scars, the result of training against opponents with sharp straight blades, not the jagged, rough scars resulting from spider claws and stingers and acid. Someday.

As early as she could remember, Kyrsia longed to be a kansho. Jin told her story of her father dying in the jungle of Baoli while leading his men. It had become her highest aspiration, a connection with a dead family. If she passed the test today today, Kyrsia would be a kansho and being a kansho meant getting to test herself against a hostile planet, filled with hostile lifeforms. Kansho gave their lives to keep the people of Baoli safe. Being a kansho meant honor and challenge and strength. And real battle scars. She craved the chance to prove her mettle against this world.

Kyrsia wrapped herself in the mottled matte cloak of a kansho. The coloration of the cloak blended into the natural environment of Baoli, hid infrared footprint from predators, and tore away if one became entrapped. Under the camouflaging cloak, Kyrsia wore light body armor protecting the most vulnerable parts of Kyrsia body, her inner thigh, her midriff and kidneys, and her groin.

The three young men surrounded her like three animals circling their prey, waiting for a signal to lunge. Each man weighed close to twice Kyrsia’s weight and the smallest stood a fifth of a meter taller than her. Her opponents carried no visible weapons, but Kyrsia knew they would each have concealed as many weapons as they were able.

Kyrsia held her ceramic blade with a loose grip. She knew that amateurs used a tight grip, afraid they would lose control of the knife, but a loose grip kept her muscles relaxed and her reflexes quick. Jin had given her the razor-sharp, curved blade on her fourth birthday and Kyrsia had practiced with it every day since the day she had received it. Ten years of practice had made the weapon feel like a living extension of her body. Kyrsia knew every inch of its edge, the worn spots on the grip. Her right hand felt empty when she sheathed the blade.

Kyrsia glanced at the luminescent zeros on the high smooth walls. She had five seconds to kill or disable three opponents.

Kyrsia drew in a slow, even breath. She exhaled deliberately through her nose to protect her teeth and tongue. A sharp uppercut with an open mouth and you could bite off your own tongue and crack a tooth at the same time. Not a mortal wound, but uncomfortable none the less. Kyrsia lowered her chin to protect her throat. She looked through a spray of straight black hair with red eyes at three young men. Kyrsia turned her lissome body slightly left to narrow her exposure to the largest threat. The curved blade of her knife rested against her right wrist, partially concealed by her hand and partially concealed by the folds of her sleeve.

As the buzzer sounded, the largest young man sunk his hips to lower his center of gravity and rushed at her with the full mass of his body. He was over twice her size and nearly as fast. As Kyrsia propelled her body up and around to deliver a crescent kick to the charging assailant’s jaw, he threw himself to the ground and slid under her, slicing her calf with some hidden blade. She cursed to herself. I know better.

Blood streaked her leg but her genetically-engineered flesh knitted together in a fresh, smooth red scar before Kyrsia completed her failed kick. The wound still stung, but Kyrsia ignored the pain and regained her fighting stance. Empty your mind. Relax to react. She heard Jin’s voice in her head. Kyrsia forgot about the wound.

Kyrsia bent her knees and held her forearm in front of her at chest height. She crouched like a predator, blade still concealed from the three opponents. In one fluid motion, Kyrsia flipped forward, planted her foot in the solar plexus of the largest man, and extended her arm like a whip with a hidden ceramic blade. The knife split the face of her second attacker from ear to lip. In the next moment, her left hand struck the second man’s sternum. Kyrsia felt her knuckles crack as they impacted the rigid bone plate. Her bones were tougher than silicon carbide body armor, but so were his. That is going to take a while to heal. The young man, five years her elder, dropped to a knee, unable to draw a full breath, his sternum broken. His partner’s face bore a new bright red, bloodied scar from lip to ear.

An inner clock ticked in Kyrsia’s head. This fight is taking too long. Kyrsia reached into her cloak and retrieved the concealed 30mm gauss gun. She rapid fired a dozen silent rounds into the chest to her third assailant. The wounds blossomed red. His eyes opened wide with surprise and then he crumpled to the ground.

That will stop him. She glanced at the timer. 5.2 seconds. Damn. Too long.

Kyrsia looked over the three young men who she had just battled. The third, rubbed his chest, where the aluminum gauss rounds had flattened against his armored bones. Kyrsia examined her bruised knuckles, then the new pale pink scars on her hands and arms, then again at the timer reading a damning 5.2 seconds. Finally, her eyes turned to the Junguan panel evaluating her readiness to start her career as a kansho.

Junguan Zihao stepped forward. Zihao wore a smug smirk and narrowed eyes. His harsh angular features made his smirk even more pronounced. Zihao was old, 35, but the youngest of the junguan. Kyrsia never knew anyone who survived past 45. Zihao’s hair had none of the silver streaks of Jin and Yuan. His left arm was gnarled and scarred. Kyrsia heard the scar was from a spider attack, snapping his humerus bone, and melting away a huge chunk of his tricep muscle before Zihao killed the spider, leaving his arm slightly knobbly and severely scarred. Kyrsia admired that twisted arm and scars, but found nothing else praiseworthy about the man. Kyrsia thought he might have been handsome if his sarcastic tone and unending arrogance did not make him so loathsome.

"Candidate, explain your decision to use a projectile weapon, specifically a concealed gauss-field hand pistol with 30mm aluminum slugs, in your survival test."

Kyrsia did not blink. She answered with a clear and unwavering voice. "Junguan Zihao, you missed my gun. I used your mistake to my advantage." She spoke plainly, trying to hide the contempt she felt for Zihao. Besides, I should have used it sooner. She glanced at the 5.2 second timer condemning her.

“I missed nothing.” Zihao spat back. She knew Zihao disliked her. She remembered him once saying, "small girls are not meant to be kansho. Small girls grow into small women, who have small children that also do not make good kansho. Small women make Baoli weak."

Junguan Jin spoke this time. "Candidate, you misunderstand. You should have used your weapon sooner. This is not a knife fighting test. This is a survival test, and you did not survive." Jin paused a second, just enough for Kyrsia to see the disappointment in his eyes, and then the Junguan called for the next candidate.

Jin’s words stung more than any of the wounds sustained during the test. Kyrsia had failed the test for a second time. Two of the kansho pointed to her from above. She saw the one of the kansho lips form the words “too small”. Even if she didn’t see his say it, she knew what people said about her. Weak, small. Kyrsia’s face burned with failure. Kyrsia climbed out of the arena, avoided the gaze of her fellow students, and pushed toward the gate to the city.

An ran toward her. Kyrsia continued forward. I want to be alone.

“Kyrsia!” An called. “Wait.”

Kyrsia slowed her stride enough that An caught up with her.

An said, “He didn’t mean it. Jin. He talks about you all the time. Well, as much as Jin talks. He’s so proud you are his daughter.”

Kyrsia chin trembled. She forced a small smile.

An wrapped her arm around Kyrsia’s shoulder. “I think he was just sad. He knows how bad you want to be a kansho, like him. Everyone fails at least once.”

Kyrsia’s throat closed. She fought the tears. If she spoke, she would break.

“Lili still looks up to her sister.”

Kyrsia turned away from An. “I’m not Lili’s sister. I’m not Jin’s daughter. I’m the child of a weak man whose body rotted outside the wall because he couldn’t defend himself.” Small. Weak. Slow. Kyrsia turned back to An, tears streaked her face. She could see the surprise in An’s eyes.

“I… Jin never said…”

“The weak die. I know the way of things. The weak die. And everyone knows I am weak.” Kyrsia felt a nauseating knot cramp her stomach. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but… I just need to go.” Kyrsia pushed into the crowd, leaving An behind.