A dark, Asian-looking girl’s head pops up from where she’s got another girl pinned to the ground. She releases the girl and trots over, not even looking winded from her fight. “Yes, Sergeant,” she says.

“Rose, get in the circle,” Buxton growls.

My heart hammers as I walk across the hard stone, wondering what it will feel like to get slammed against it. The girl whom Han was fighting rolls out of the circle, face bloodied, apparently unable to stand up.

“At ease, soldiers!” Buxton shouts from behind us. “Feel free to watch the show!”

Great, I think. The last thing I want is an audience for my first fight.

The other soldiers pull themselves up from various levels of peer-inflicted injuries and make their way over to our circle. Out of the corner of my eye I see Tawni and Trevor move closer. Tawni’s no longer laughing, her mouth a tight line. She’s worried about me. Serves her right, I think.

Instinct and training kicks in. I settle my heart and lungs by taking deep breaths through my nose, exhaling from my mouth. All of my father’s mottos ring through my head: hit first and hit hard; a quick fight is a good fight; there’s no such thing as a fair fight; play to your strengths.

But all my thoughts vanish when the taunting begins. “You smell like a moon dweller, chickie,” a guy with a black eye says. “You a moon dweller?”

My mouth is tight as I nod.

“We’ve been looking for some moon dwellers with balls to join us, but you don’t look like you’ve even fought a cold before.” I grit my teeth and try to ignore him, focusing on my opponent, who has just stepped into the ring, her fists clenched at her side. She looks ready; I hope I am.

“We need moon dwellers who can fight,” a butch woman with no neck cries.

I stare at her sharply and say, “I can fight.”

The original heckler chimes in again. “Bah! You’re just a scared little girl, not a fighter.” He got the scared part right. But not scared of fighting. Scared of losing those closest to me; scared of failing my parents, my people; scared of not fighting well enough for everything that is important to me.

“I’ll prove it,” I say.

“Fight!” Buxton shouts, even louder than she has yet. Her voice echoes through my ears, and I don’t think I’ll ever hear well again.

Han is like a flash of light, faster and more agile than anyone I’ve ever fought before. But I’ve got a few inches on her, am built slightly bigger, and I have the advantage of not underestimating her. My father taught me to use any advantage I can in a fight.

She moves in fast, feinting left and right, left and right, trying to lull me into a rhythm. She whips a lightning-quick kick at my head and I duck sharply, narrowly avoiding it, but realizing too late that it was a combo move. Her other leg is already in motion, sweeping the ground and cutting toward my feet. I try to jump, but all my force is pushing down and I can’t get my feet off the ground. A sharp pain jolts through my ankles and I go down hard on my right shoulder, wincing as I feel it start to throb.

My training kicks in and I know the fight is moments away from being over if I don’t get out of the vulnerable position I’m in.

I roll hard to the side, away from Han, and hear her boot clomp down hard on the rock, just where I was a second earlier. My mind is machine, thinking like my opponent, anticipating her next move.

She’ll expect me to try to get to my feet.

So I don’t.

Instead, I roll back the other way.

My surprise works, as I feel my turning shoulder bash into her legs, which are moving in the opposite direction of my roll. She was rushing to stop me from getting to my feet, trying to maintain her advantage. The joke’s on her as she tumbles over me, sprawling head first. More pain lances through my shoulder and I realize it’s the same one that hit the ground. Bad luck, but I can’t worry about that. Not now.

Gritting my teeth, I will my body to ignore the pain and move faster than I’ve ever moved before. I finish the roll and use the momentum to push up with my legs and one arm, regaining my feet. In the back of my mind I know there are people watching and that they’re making a lot of noise, but my head is a void, focused on only one thing: winning the fight.

Using my heel, I stop myself and charge back the other way, where Han went down. She’s scrambling to her feet, but I can tell from her wide eyes and slightly parted lips that I’ve surprised her. I see fear. Another advantage I can use.

I scream something that sounds like “Arrarararara!”—part roar, part battle cry, perhaps?—and lower my shoulder, watching her eyes widen further before I crash into her chest, flattening her with the power of a miner’s sledgehammer. Not graceful—but effective.

Another one of my father’s nuggets of wisdom pops into my head at that moment—don’t stop until it’s over—and I make him proud by continuing to drive forward after the initial impact, crushing Han into the stone and landing with my full weight on top of her. She half grunts, half screams, and I can feel the air go out of her lungs with a whoosh of breath on my face.

I know it’s over—there’s no way her smaller frame could get up from the power of the smack that I just laid on her—so I roll off her and stand up, looking around.

Initially, I worry I really have lost my hearing from Buxton’s incessant yelling, because there’s no sound. But then I realize that it’s just because everyone’s quiet, staring at me like I’ve just grown a third arm and started juggling hunks of limestone. I scan the crowd, searching for a familiar face. I see Buxton, who’s scowling, but with an eyebrow raised; Brody, who’s wearing a big grin, as if he planned the whole thing himself; Tawni, standing out with a smile of her own, like a sparkling diamond amongst ashy hunks of coal; and finally, Trevor, who looks half amused and half like he wants to kill me.

Ten seconds pass in silence, and then: a clap rings out through the seemingly impenetrable silence, sounding like the hollow ring of a dinner bell in the caves. I jerk my head to the side and see that it’s the short, black-eyed guy. The heckler. He claps again and then shouts, “WoooOOO!” getting louder as he yells. The next thirty seconds are a bit awkward as some of the other soldiers join in, some applauding, some shouting encouragement, and others just staring at me. I focus on Tawni, who is laughing, until the noise dies down.

I hear a strange sound behind me, like an old person trying to breathe through a ventilator, and turn to see Han on her hands and knees, wheezing through her mouth. She was my enemy, but now she’s my comrade, and so I stride to her and help her to her feet, lifting her by her elbows. Leaning on me, she manages to walk to the edge of the circle, whispering, “Thank you,” in my ear, like I’ve just done her a huge service, rather than crushing her sternum.

Brody approaches us. “Nice fight, soldiers,” he says. “Zarra, take Han to medical to get her, uh, her ribs and her…chest, and, well, whatever else hurts looked at.” A girl no more than twenty-one, with short-cut black hair and thick black eyebrows, steps forward and takes Han from me.

I turn back to face Brody, and Buxton, who has once more moved to his side. “Well done,” he says, grinning again.

“It’s just one fight and I didn’t mean to hurt her so bad,” I say. I’m not proud of having sent a girl to the medic, especially because it’s just training, and she’s supposed to be on my side.

“Damn right,” Buxton says. “It was just one fight and Han is a small fry compared to a lot of the soldiers, so don’t get a big head.”

I don’t know what her problem is, but I’m getting tired of it. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” I say, glaring at her.

Brody pats me on my injured shoulder and I clench my teeth so I don’t show how much it hurts. “At ease, soldier,” he says, and I realize my hands are fisted and my arms are tight, like I’m straining against a heavy weight. He probably thinks I’m about to hit the other sergeant. Maybe I am—I dunno. Sometimes when the adrenaline gets pumping and I’m in fight-mode, it’s like I lose a bit of control, which scares me a little.