CROSS//Process, Part 3

Contents Title Page Copyright Series Order 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. ARRAH – A FEW MONTHS AGO Get PART 4 Free Stories! FB Group CROSS//Process, Part 3 Hildred M. Billings Copyright CROSS//Process Part 3 Copyright: Hildred M. BillingsPublished: February 6th, 2023Publisher: Barachou Press This is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to any characters, settings, or situations are purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format. Series Order MAIN SERIES REBIRTH REVENGE REGRESS REPENT RELEASE PREQUELS PROCESS PROPHET one C erilyn; Federation Year 4527 “Stay on your toes!” Kila cried between thrusts toward Sulim. The sand at the bottom of the training pit bowl flew up behind Kila like the spit of a striped cat Sulim saw at the edge of the fortress one day ago. “Do you want to get stabbed?” She shoved her wooden practice blade at Sulim’s chest for irritated emphasis. “Yeah, sorry.” Sulim’s breath felt like boulders crushing her ribs. It was their second day of intense training down in the pit, and before Sulim could prove her worth with a gun, she had to graduate from rudimentary blades. Kila was nothing to laugh at when it came to wielding the wooden weapons. She had already sent Eyne to the side of the pit crying—under the guise of getting refreshments—after shoving a splinter into her hand. Eyne now sat nursing her hand after sucking out the splinter and spitting it into Kila’s cup of water. “Sorry isn’t shit when your arm’s been cut off, or worse, you’re dead.” Kila emptied her water into her mouth. Sulim was too worn out to laugh at the prank going unchecked. “You’re worth less to us with one arm missing than dead. Then you still expect us to feed you, but you ain’t worth shit in return. Who’s gonna hire a one-armed mercenary?” Kila was pushing the hypothetical too far. There was plenty a one-armed mercenary could do; Sulim knew from her limited time in the tribe. Shit, there are some one-legged cooks here. Sulim wasn’t the best cook, though. Caramine made sure to tell her that more than once. Kila’s face soured as she coughed on something lodged in her throat. Eyne did a dance out of her view. “Where the fuck is Cairn?” “I’m right here.” Cairn sat on the slope of the hill, chin in hand. Sulim had seen her while sparring with Kila, but her trainer had apparently dropped that information. “Would you get your ass down here and help me, please? You’ve been such a lazy bum since you got that stupid mission all to yourself.” Cairn slid halfway down the hill before springing up on her boots. “I’m not being lazy. You told me to stay out of your way while you taught this one a lesson, whatever that means.” “No, I didn’t.” “Yes, you did.” “Shut up.” Kila shuffled toward Eyne and sat before her feet. Cairn stood nearby as she and her partner argued over something Sulim knew nothing about. My cue to take a break. Time to die for a minute. Or two. “It’s horseshit is what it is,” Sulim heard as she got herself some water and caught a towel tossed by Eyne. As she dabbed away the sweat on her brow, Kila continued beside her, “It should be me and you heading that mission, not you while I’m back here babysitting these two virgins.” Eyne’s cheeks flared, but Sulim couldn’t be bothered. On more than one occasion, Eyne had talked about the prowess of her ex-lover, none of it meaning a thing to Sulim’s inexperienced mind. What was any of that to her? Seems like it’s the only thing people here do for entertainment. Sulim would kill for a decent work of literature. She heard tales of a translated copy of the julah classic One Thousand Years of Bliss making the rounds but had yet to get her hands on it. The late Master Marlow had a way of spinning a tale about familial dynasties, but Sulim was too young to appreciate it the last time Aunt Caramine procured a copy for the house. What I’d give for some good reading now. The only tattered reading material to cross her hands were well-used romance novels full of cocks-this and cunts-that. Typical for this lot. “If you were sent with me, you’d be whining about going on a mission.” Cairn drank some water before spitting it back out onto the sand. “Besides, you know one of us has to train these girls while the other makes money. We’re like an old married couple, you dumbass.” Kila nursed her cup of water. “Yeah, I just hate the favoritism,” she mumbled once Cairn was out of earshot. “Favoritism?” Eyne squeaked. Kila sneered at her before tossing her cup on the ground, the last water drops darkening the sand next to where Cairn’s saliva congealed. “None of your damn business.” Sulim spoke up for the first time as Kila stomped away to confront Cairn about something else. “I’m sure we have plenty of time to learn all about favoritism around here.” She sat and rested her muscles. Kila and Cairn had run them ragged with all the physical training those past couple of days, and just as Sulim thought her muscles had gotten used to Lord Rollo’s training, she found herself waking up every day with a soreness rivaling even the worst menstrual cramps. She slept well, that was for sure. Maybe she didn’t have the energy to read before bed, after all. A few minutes later, Kila jerked her thumb behind her and cackled. Sulim already didn’t like where this was going. The two