01

Karma

~ Birth of the Sage Commander ~

By: The Sandwich

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Chapter 1 ~Abandoned Words~

[February 6th, 306 A.S., White Lotus League...]

It moved.

Smoothly hovering through the house, small circular wings tittering up and down the nearly spherical bot's sides, the flutter all but silent as it proceeded on it's mission. The mission was very important, the tiny bot knew – it's master had given it herself. The sun's lazy rays were just beginning to slip into the house, when the bot found it's destination. The door was closed, but it opened slightly at the bot's approach. Everything had been planned.

The room was large, though the room itself was deceptive – piles upon piles of books, papers, electronic equipment, discarded oddities, and other items filled the room, making it seem far smaller than it was. Papers were strewn everywhere, as well as several datapads, and there were diagrams upon several walls, both careful and intricate, marked with a dozen red X's all over.

None of this mattered to the little bot, however. His attention was on his target, lying on the bed, sleeping quietly and soundly.

This time, without fail!

“Good morning! Up, up, up! Big day! Big day!”

Vikram groaned as the cheerful voice of the tiny helper 'bot began it's insistent war efforts upon his desired sleep, but the voice could not be denied. “Auuugh. Alright, alright.”

“Morning, Master Vikram!”

“Good morning, 'White. I'm up now. Thank you.”

“Of course! Of course!”

Yawning as the white 'bot tittered away, proudly chattering to itself, Vikram tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes and focus. His efforts less than fruitful, he slipped out of the bed and wandered down the hall in a half-daze.

Finally arriving in the kitchen, Vikram quickly fumbled through the dozen strange devices throughout the room searching for and setting up a kettle. This room, too, was a clutter, piles of gadgets everywhere. After an overlong wait, he pulled out a small white-red pill, swallowed it, and washed it down with a deep drink of his coffee. He sighed as felt his mind return to him.

“Much better.”

“Vikram! You're awake! Congratulations!” Vikram yelped as pair of arms pounced on him from behind, holding him in a energetic hug, nearly spilling his coffee. “Whoa, Mother! Coffee, coffee!”

The arm's grip ended almost as soon as it began. Vikram's mother, Sanaki Pramesh jumped back, giving Vikram just enough time to set down his mug and turn around before enveloping him in another hug, her green hair flowing wildly as she moved, pressing herself tightly against him.

“I can't believe it. My little boy's growing up already...”

“What are you going on about, mother? It's only the end of high school.” Vikram grinned. “I haven't changed at all.”

“Oh, don't you be kidding yourself. You've been planning and waiting for this day for years. And the top of your class! I don't think I could possibly be more proud of you.”

“Oh, come on. Surely you jest. For the family who gave me so much, could I do any less?”

“I...uh...”

“Ugh. There you go, sweet-talking again.”

“Aaaand good morning to you as well, Maya.” Vikram replied cheerfully, looking over (or rather, up) at the annoyed face of his younger sibling. “Looking forward to the assembly?”

Maya frowned, crossing her arms. “What makes you think I'm looking forward to listening to you yap in front of the school?!” Maya's eye twitched. “And are the two of you going to ever stop hugging?! Come on!”

Freeing himself from his mother's grip, Vikram took a deep drink of his coffee. Maya just shook her head. Sanaki, nervously looking around the room, spied the kettle in confusion. “What the? You made the coffee with this?” She immediately began digging through the piles, flustered. ”I know there's at least three coffeemakers I made around here somewhere...ah, here's one!”

Vikram laughed at his mother's distracted antics. A Supebra Genius of great skill, there was no shortage of clever – and sometimes pointless - gadgets lying around the house thanks to her constant tinkering. Vikram marveled at her creativity, even as he laughed at how silly it seemed sometimes. “It's not that. I just prefer to make it myself.”

“See! There you go again!” Sanaki flustered. Maya just rolled her eyes.

Turning to leave the kitchen, Vikram smirked, waggling his eyebrows at Maya in provocation.

Vikram laughed down the hall to his room, easily avoiding the random coffeemaker lobbed at him, his own coffee firmly and safely in hand. “Come on, sis, at least make me try.”

“You little..!”

“Hey, it isn't my fault you're so tall...”

“Enough!” A man's voice boomed into the hall. “I would think the least the two of you could do is call a truce on your Graduation day.”

“Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, Vikram. Are you ready for your speech?”

“So you're asking me rhetorical questions now?” Vikram replied. “Of course I'm ready. I've had it prepared for weeks.”

Nevermind me staying up late changing it - yet again - last night...

“Good.” He paused, sighing quietly. “This is a pointless question, but I'll ask it anyway. Are you sure?”

“My path is set.”

“You're a bright boy. And I know you're ambitious. And yet...” Vikram's father sighed again and the corner of his mouth turned up into lopsided grin. “I give up. You're my son, sure as can be. Do me proud and kick my ass, alright?”

Vikram met his father's fierce handshake. “Several times over.” They laughed.

“Alright, you two!” Maya yelled down the hall. “Get yourselves ready to go, or I'll get you ready myself!”

“Alright, alright...”

* * *

The Gymnasium Hall was packed, a teeming mass of students and parents, abuzz with excitement. The hall was highly decorated, trimmed with the academy's traditional silver and green, prepared for the final event of the year – graduation.

Vikram, however, was not among those in the greater crowd. Rather, he paced outside the hall by the rear entrance like an agitated cat that had lost it's prey, just out of reach, and tried to calm his nerves. The few people around him gave him wide berth, either busily preparing for the ceremony itself, or simply avoiding him. Vikram payed them no mind – this was hardly unusual.

Six years. You've waited six years for the opportunity to do this, so you're going to do it right. Relax. Breath in, and then out. Find your center...

It was tradition, at the Gyana Academy, as well as many other White Lotus schools, for the highest-placed student in each class to make a speech, the student address, upon their education's end. Vikram had all but fought tooth and claw to achieve that rank, that status. That chance, that single glorious chance, to speak as he willed before everyone.

“Ho~h? Vikram Pramesh? I'm surprised to see you back here. Too nervous to appear in front of your fellow students?”

Vikram fought back the urge to groan at the sight of the blue-haired student walking up and taking a seat across the hall.

“Good day to you, Student Council President.”

“Oh, come now, there's no need to be so formal with me. Or have you forgotten my name, and are just covering for that fact?” The blue-haired student chuckled.

“Surely you jest. I could not forget your name if I wanted to, Ratinal Gulzar.”

“Ho? You do remember. I'm impressed.” Ratinal looked pleased, a grin on his face.

“What brings on this conversation, Gulzar? Passing time before your part in the ceremonies, or is this just a social call?”

“Well, I just thought we hadn't had a chance to speak much during our time here, despite seeing so much of each other during the year.” Ratinal leaned back in his chair confidently, and waved a lazy hand through the air.

“I also wanted to thank you. I'm certain I wouldn't have been able to get as far as I have without you.” Ratinal smiled. Vikram resisted the urge to punch it. “Anyway, it seems it's almost time for the Student Address. Ready?”

Vikram tensed. It was time. Just a few seconds more...

“...and now, the student address, by Student Council President Ratinal Gulzar.”

What?

Vikram's blood ran cold in disbelief as Ratinal smirked at him, and walked through the door to the podium, silently mouthing one last line as he did so.

“You get what you deserve.”

Vikram choked on his voice, a scream that couldn't be oblidged tearing a hole in his throat. With legs that could barely hold him, he landed heavily in one of the provided chairs. Vikram's turn arrived to receive his diploma, but Vikram was too distressed to even notice or care.

They had stolen it from him! Clearly, blatantly, even now, in his triumphant hour, they had stolen it from him! He clenched the papers he held, a copy of his speech, tightly, the paper crumpling in his grip as the words he was supposed to give were replaced by yet another lie.

My speech!

Eventually, the ceremony ended. There was much excitement and fanfare in the hall behind him as students and family began filing out, looking forward to a day of celebration. The school's Staff, too filed out, and one particular figure caught Vikram's eye as he walked down the corridor to his office. Leaping to his feet, Vikram charged into the crowd, slipping through the shifting cracks with ease and impunity, chasing the man with a dogged persistence.

“Vikram? Hey, Vikram!” Vikram ignored the cries of his family as he charged through the halls, ignoring the expressions of surprise and bewilderment from the students that he rushed past, anger surging through every vein of his being as he ran.

Feh. 'Why?'

He knew 'why'. He always knew 'why'.

As he ran though the halls, ignoring the angry yell from teachers telling him to slow down - teachers that no longer mattered – he heard a familiar, brash voice, and turned the corner to find a single student with tan skin and swept back, blonde hair arguing heatedly with the tall, wiry figure he had followed.

“Objections?! What the HELL do you mean 'objections?' Who the FUCK objected?!” The student, Dearka Lensman, all but roared, arms out on both sides to prevent the man from progressing.

“CHANCELLOR!”

“Ah. Mr. Pramesh.” The Chancellor commented with clear distaste as he turned to face his latest annoyance. “I see you're just in time to take over for your lackey.”

“Dearka is no lackey, Chancellor. He is my friend, and clearly the only other person in this school who seems to possess any sort of sense.” Vikram's eyes thinned, his voice quiet, the tiniest hint of a tremble in his words. “Who changed the ceremony to have your son give the Student Address, Chancellor Gulzar? Last I heard, that right was mine.”

“Like I was just telling your lackey -”

“I am not anybody's lackey!”

“-a number of objections to your holding of the position arose, and I felt that it would ruin the spirit of the occasion to have someone of such questionable worth take part in the proceedings-”

“I'll show YOU spirit, you bigheaded rat!” Dearka gritted his teeth.

“I earned it. I earned the right of address! Tradition demanded that it go to me!”

The Chancellor's eyes thinned as he drew himself to his full considerable height. Vikram stood unshaken.

“Now you listen here, boy, and you listen well. You know full well the only reason you reached that 'right' you obsess over, despite the cheating and philandering you certainly must have done, is that by some means, we couldn't find any proof of it. I know you did it, and so does the rest of the administration here. Were it not for your father being the influential man that he is, and your commendable ability to cover your own tracks, I'd have you and your crony here expelled in an instant, rather than merely denied one little speech. You're by getting rather easy, I'd say. Now if you'll excuse me, I have actually important business to attend to. Good day, Mr. Pramesh.”

Vikram's eyes flamed. Grabbing the man by his shoulder, he forced the Chancellor to face him, took a deep breath, and, not bothering to hide or hold it back, screamed, telepathic voice ripping out and pounding straight into the Chancellor's head with enough force to make him wince.

<That was my chance! That was my chance and you knew it, and you stole it away from me! My one chance to speak to everyone whose ignored me, insulted me and treated me like dirt for six years, and you stole it from me because you're the same conceited type as the rest of them!>

“Whoa, whoa!” Dearka grabbed Vikram's wrist – Vikram's hand was shaking violently, twitching back and forth between a fist and a claw, as if it couldn't decide with what form to lash out with. “You're doing it again! You need to calm down.”

The Chancellor shoved off Vikram's hand, visibly shaken. “Trash is trash, Mr. Pramesh, and this little outburst has all but justified my opinions. Get out of my school.”

<You bastard!>

Vikram charged, and landed flat on the ground as a pair of arms tripped him and dragged him to the ground.

“What the heck are you doing, Dearka!?”

“I know how you feel, Vikram, but you have to stop! Scum is scum! He WANTS you to hit him, remember?!”

Vikram glared at Dearka, but the blonde held his grip and gaze steadfast.

“Go. I'm through with you.” Vikram spat at the chancellor, and turning on his heels, he stomped away.

Relax. Breath in, and then out. Find your center...

"What the heck would you have done if you hit him?!” Dearka asked, his voice just shy of a yell. “I don't know you to be that kind of fool!”

“I'd would have punched his lights out, that's what.” Vikram growled, shaking his head.

“You would've thrown your diploma away, Vikram. Wasn't it you who taught me to think with your head, not your fists?!”

“Feh. It hardly matters if I passed or not, Dearka. I'll end up a tamer all the same. There's not a thing a man like that can do to stop me.” Vikram took a deep breath, and felt his composure slowly return to him.

“...You're an idiot.”

“And you're friends with that idiot.”

The two exchanged painful smiles.

“Let's go back to your family. I'm sure they're wondering where the hell you ran off to by now.” Dearka looked thoughtful. “Scratch that, I'm pretty sure the whole school knows what happened here, the way you screamed out like that.”

“Wait, you heard that?”

“Are you kidding? If brains had eardrums, you would have broken them with that yell.”

Vikram sighed.“And thus I remain the laughingstock of the school to the very end. Let's get out of here...I never want to see this place again.”

“Yeah...”

* * *

Rather than going out to eat, and risk crossing paths with any of the other students (or perhaps anyone at all), Vikram's graduation party was a small, backyard affair. The weather was fairly cool, with a slight northern breeze blowing across the land, though one easily defeated by the light jacket Vikram wore.

Vikram's father manned the portable kitchen, studiously keeping Sanaki away from the cooking (she had done her part in designing the portable contraption he was using) and instead having her relax (relaxed as she ever got), drinking a cup of some strange herbal tea that Vikram couldn't stand. Dearka sat by Vikram as a guest, eagerly enjoying some of Aravandi's excellent cooking. Maya...was elsewhere, popping out of the house to grab some freshly prepared food and vanishing back therein. As she seemed to be doing her very best to ignore the proceedings, Vikram decided to indulge her and respond in kind.

“You should really learn how to cook like your dad does. The girls would join you just for a bite.” Dearka commented.

“What's the sport in that?“

“You? Concerned about sport?”

“Concerned about professional jealousy.”

“Hmm. You've a point there.” Dearka took a thoughtful bite. “You know, even though you've told me before, I'm still surprised. Even without the support of that rat Gulzar, you could probably get into just about any college you wanted to. You've got the grades. You've the brains. I know you've got the guts. So why a Tamer, of all things? And don't tell me it's because 'you don't think you'd be able to get some' otherwise, or I'll punch you right here.”

“You know me better than that, Dearka, and should know better than to claim you can hit me. Do you think I could stand to go through another 5 years of that hell?” Vikram shook his head. “One month of at the Tamer's Academy is much more reasonable. Besides, I get along better with Pokegirls in general than I do with humans, period."

Vikram's voice fell. “You and my father are the only guys who've met me and treated me with any sort of respect. My sister...I don't know what to think about her, acting like a violent Amazonchan all the time.”

“Eh, well... You don't make it easy on people. I swear, sometimes I look into your eyes and it's like facing the boogieman. I know you aren't that bad a guy, Vikram, but you can be seriously scary at times.” Dearka laughed. "Remember 6th grade? When we first became friends?"

"When I got so fed up with your dynamic posturing in gym class that I hit you in the face with a ball during dodgeball?"

"A ball? Don't give me that. It was FOUR TIMES, dammit. And the whole time, you had a look in your eyes like you were going to swallow me whole or something." Dearka frowned. "There are people to avoid and people not to mess with. You are in the latter category."

“Sure, you say that now. After you tried to drag me into a corner and break my nose for the insult.”

“Tried being the key word. My nose still aches from that experience.”

“And righteously so.”

The two ate in relative silence for a time.

“Hey, Dearka. How'd you get your parents to agree with you coming here?”

“I told them I went to the Haww's.”

“What about Miss Haww, then? I thought you were going to going to spend some time with her.”

Dearka looked awkward. “It's a complicated situation.”

“Hrm. No doubt. Is she going to be your starter?”

“As much as I'd like her to be...” Dearka sighed. “Cameragirls aren't exactly Starter material, and her family knows it. The Haww family is waiting until I receive the official starter before they let me meet with her again. Probably enjoying what little time they have left with their little girl before passing her on to a brute like me.”

“The Hawws don't think of you as a brute, Dearka. If they did, they wouldn't be letting you take her. Sounds to me like they want to protect you both.”

“I know...” Dearka sighed. “Hey, Mr. Pramesh! Could I have a bit more of that chicken?”

“Didn't I say call me Aravandi? One more grilled delight coming up.”

“Thanks!” Dearka continued. “Anyway, what about you? Do you have a lucky girl lined up already?”

Vikram shook his head, an embarrassed smile on his face. “I'm going to be getting my starter from the donation committee as normal.”

“Seriously? What about the girls that were stored at the center before? I know several of them were taking an interest in you.”

“They're gone. Picked up long ago.” Well, save for one, but she isn't starter 'material' either...

“That's too bad...that one Psi-Dyke looked smitten with you.” Dearka chuckled.

Maya slipped out to grab another plate of food as Vikram flicked a piece of chicken at Dearka in reply.

“Oh, sure! Land me with a Psi-Dyke. Genius idea.”

“I'll put one on your shopping list.” Sanaki quipped.

“Motherrr!”

* * *

Vikram turned out the lights and fell upon his covers, exhausted and beaten.

If only he were as confident as he tried to act! Vikram swore quietly. If he was getting this upset over such a small thing as a few spoken words, how could he handle the days to come? How many days like this would it take, before he couldn't feel it anymore? A hundred? A thousand? The rest of his life?

With that, Vikram emptied his mind and fell to sleep, in his lone sanctuary, protected by those who called themselves family.

His fears, his frustrations, his doubts. They did not matter here.

For those who would call him 'family', Vikram would stand against the world.

* * *

Walking down the halls of Gyana Academy, one of the teachers paused as they stepped on something. Looking down, they found a torn, crumpled paper, lying abandoned at their feet. Picking it up, and giving it a cursory glance, the teacher shrugged, and threw the paper into a nearby trash bin, the words it held never to be spoken.

“...year. Though I owe much to my family and my few friends, not hardly a day passed, when I did not feel an outcast, or alone.

Now, however, we begin a new stage of our lives. A stage where every second matters. A stage where the games are real, and the stakes are high. Such is our world, our heritage.

So go now. Go out into the world of our forebears, and make the world your own. May those that seek it, find success, find freedom, and find love.”

“Now, at last, we are all equal.”

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"The military is a great matter of the state.

It is the ground of death and life.

The Tao of survival or extinction.

One cannot but examine it.”

- Sun Tsu, The Art of War

Chapter 1: Abandoned Words - End