“This must be the place,” I say. “Kyle said they were using metahumans to generate electricity for the entire country and its neighbors.”
“Doesn’t look like they’re using it for much of anything now.”
We walk down an aisle between the endless rows of machines.
“Could Kyle have been lying?” I ask. “How long do you think it’s been since anyone’s used these things?”
Not long. Look. They’re rusty, but there isn’t any dirt on them.” She stops in her tracks and puts her hand out in front of me. “Do you see that up ahead?”
Up ahead is one of the outer walls, but contrasting against the uniformness is a disorganized pile of … something. The magtonium picks up on what I’m looking at and reforms around my face, enhancing my sight to cut through the darkness. Sarah’s suit responds too, moving the mask back into place over her face.
As soon as it locks into position, it quickly retracts again.
“Oh no…” she whispers.
I pull back my mask too. I don’t want to see what it’s showing me.
“It must be them,” I say as we approach.
We’re close enough now that enhanced sight isn’t necessary. Strewn across the cold concrete floor and piled against the wall are dozens and dozens of lifeless bodies. The stench confirms the worst without us needing to scan the bodies for signs of life.
“Are you seeing this, Jim?” Sarah asks.
“Yeah.”
“Look.”
I move in front of the camera on Sarah’s suit so Jim can see what I’m pointing at. A body is lying a few feet away from the rest, likely having tumbled down from atop the pile. He looks only a few years older than me. His skin is pale and dirty, and curly brown hair covers his face. He’s wearing a slate gray jumpsuit, the same as all the rest. The suit looks brand new, suggesting it was made from material meant to withstand the type of abuse this person was subjected to.
“His hands,” I say. “They’re missing.”
Three
It’s late by the time we arrive in Bay View City despite having ditched the thermal airship in favor of flying ourselves over the Pacific. One of Midnight’s repurposed submersibles turned out to be ideal for transporting a non-powered individual (i.e. Jim) without worrying about him swallowing bugs or his skin peeling off from the velocity.
The high-altitude airship will stay parked above Kaldonia for now. It’ll serve as a useful base of operation high above a country that is otherwise difficult to get in and out of without causing a ruckus.
Midnight is already waiting for us inside his water tower hideout.
“This wasn’t your fault,” are the first words out of his mouth.
“It’s not not my fault.”
“Let’s worry about assigning blame after we know what the Kaldonians are up to.”
I can always rely on Midnight to suggest burying myself in work to help ignore negative feelings.
“I’m sure you’ve reviewed the footage from my helmet camera, but based on my count, they forcibly removed eighty-six pairs of metabands from the deceased. So, we’re looking at one hundred and seventy-two missing metabands,” Sarah says as she pulls up video at a nearby workstation.
Jim is looking down at the ground. He’s having a hard time dealing with the number of dead. We all are, but he’s the only one not distracting themselves.
“I’m coming up short on leads,” Midnight says. “We knew the current Kaldonian regime was capable of this type of cruelty, but it doesn’t make sense. The energy the metahumans created at that facility was their primary export.”
“Maybe they figured out how to get energy out of magtonium?” I suggest. “That would explain why they needed the metabands and not the metahumans.”
“It’s unlikely, but absent any other information, we have to consider that possibility. A lot doesn’t add up. Why were they in such a hurry to collect all the metabands at once? What do you think, Jim?”
Jim looks up from the ground, caught off guard. “What do I think?”
“Yes. I asked you to accompany Connor and Sarah on this mission because I wanted your insight.”
“Really? I thought you just didn’t want me to feel left out.”
Midnight doesn’t respond, so I jump in for him. “That’s not really how he does things.”
“Oh, right. Of course. Um, I guess my gut is telling me the same thing as yours: it’s suspicious that they would need that many metabands all at once. Even if they figured out how to extract energy from them, they couldn’t possibly have the infrastructure to store that much energy, nor do they have enough customers to deliver it to. Kaldonia has been sanctioned since Kyle’s killing spree. The only countries still willing to trade with them are too small to have any use for that much energy.”
Midnight considers what Jim said. “That’s a good point.”
“Maybe someone else is trying to reverse-engineer magtonium?” Sarah suggests. “They’d need a supply of metabands to test.”
“That’s scary to think about,” Jim says. “If someone is buying metabands in bulk, they may have already figured out how to reverse-engineer magtonium.”
“I doubt it, considering we can barely figure out how it works,” I say.
“Yeah, but someone obviously figured out how to make it work,” Jim shoots back.
Midnight glances at me. The quick look conveys all it needs to. Careful. Jim and Sarah are still in the dark about the origins of magtonium, and I’m letting on that I know something they don’t.
“I’ll keep looking. Not many people can afford to buy that many metabands at the price Kaldonia would have set. In the meantime, you should get some rest. It’s been a long night, and you have class in the morning.”
He doesn’t need to tell us twice. We begin gathering our belongings.
“Connor, if you could stay behind for a few minutes, I have something I’d like to discuss with you,” Midnight asks.
“Um, yeah. Sure.”
I catch Sarah and Jim exchanging an odd look. They aren’t thrilled that Midnight wants to speak with me privately. They put their coats on and exit via the hatch at the base of the water tower.
Once the hatch is closed and locked, Midnight turns his attention back to me. “There’s an update on our unidentified celestial object.”
“Are you sure we can’t let Jim and Sarah in on this? You’ve made them part of the team, right? They already know something is up, and the longer we wait to tell them, the angrier they’ll be when they find out.”
“They’ll learn to get over it.”
“But you trust them with a bunch of other secrets.”
“This is different. We can’t risk them knowing yet.”
“Why not? If what you’re telling me is true, the entire world will know about there’s a spacecraft heading toward Earth eventually.”
“In time, but not today.”
“So, what, you’re keeping this from them for their protection?”
“No, I’m keeping this from them to limit their exposure to dangerous information. Once they can do something about it, I’ll tell them everything they want to know. In the meantime, if this information became public before we fully understood it ourselves, it could destabilize societies around the world.”
“The world is doing an okay job adjusting to metahumans. How is this so different?”
“People are not adjusting well to metahumans. If they were, we wouldn’t be hiding in a water tower. The notion that we’re not alone in the universe will not sit well with people. You need to trust me on that. If you’d rather not know, I can begin keeping this information to myself.”
He knows my curiosity alone would make it impossible for me to agree to that.
“Fine, I’ll continue keeping my mouth shut. What’s the update?”
Midnight swivels his chair to face the bank of computer monitors. A bio-authentication prompt appears on the screen. After it’s satisfied that Midnight is actually Midnight
, the monitors display a blurry image of the ship hurtling toward Earth. Alongside it are a lot of numbers I don’t understand.
“I’ve discovered something important. The ship is transmitting a signal toward Earth.”
“Whoa, really? Can you read it?”
“No, I can’t. Even if I could, it’s undoubtedly encrypted. Still, the signal’s mere existence is important, especially considering where on Earth it’s being transmitted to.”
“You’re going to make me ask instead of just telling me, aren’t you?”
“The signal is being transmitted to Kaldonia.”
“Is it trying to contact the crashed ship?”
“That would have been my hunch, but there’s something else interesting. The same type of signal is being projected back from inside Kaldonia. At first I thought it was merely pinging the crashed ship, but the connection is continuous. The question is, why would the crashed ship need information from the one approaching Earth?”
“You’re thinking the crashed ship isn’t actually dead?”
“From everything I’ve seen on the ground, the ship is damaged beyond repair. Yet the Kaldonians consider it important enough to guard around the clock.”
“Who wouldn’t? It’s a crashed spaceship.”
“Of course, but the Kaldonians have known about it for years now. However, just this week, this happened…” Midnight enters a few keystrokes, and satellite imagery fills the screen. “On the left is a photo taken of the crash site a few weeks ago. You can’t see the craft because it’s under a tarp to keep satellites from catching a glimpse. On the right is a photo taken earlier today.”
The difference between the photographs is stark. In the photo on the left, it’s difficult to tell there’s something there unless you know to look for it. The green tarp over the ship blends in with the forest surroundings seamlessly, and I struggle to spot any guards. However, the photo on the right looks like a small military base, complete with buildings, vehicles, and a paved road.
“Whoa, that was fast.”
“Especially for a country not known for its infrastructure. A project like this would have required immense resources that Kaldonia doesn’t have. Whatever’s happening there is important. It’s likely that the Kaldonian government has detected the same transmissions and is working to decipher them.”
“Can they?”
“I’ve underestimated them before.”
Four
My alarm clock goes off, startling me awake. I flip onto my side and contemplate hitting the snooze button. Ultimately, I turn it off and sit up in bed instead. Jim’s already gone to his early morning class, so I have the room to myself.
I vaguely recall a dream as I slink out of bed and the fog of sleep clears. The dream comes back to me in pieces, offering brief glimpses of the bodies piled up in Kaldonia and snippets of memories from when my metabands were destroyed. I’m not sure what it means, if anything. Likely just my dumb brain manifesting two of the million things causing me anxiety.
After I drag myself down to the showers and brush my teeth, I return to my dorm room and get dressed. I recall freezing yesterday and opt to throw on a flannel shirt over my t-shirt and grab my book bag.
I pause in the hallway before locking the door. Something is bothering me, so I head back inside and close the door behind me. I grab the small lamp on my nightstand and turn it over. I stick a fingernail inside a small indentation in the base and twist. The bottom plate falls into my lap, along with my disk of magtonium. I hold it for a moment, debating whether taking it with me would be a bad idea. I’m probably just feeling paranoid because of my weird dreams last night.
Following the formal shutdown of the secret metahuman program at Skyville Academy, I don’t feel great about carrying around the nanosuit. I don’t feel like I have complete control over it. Sometimes, it reads my thoughts and intentions perfectly, but other times, it starts to activate because a nearby car backfires.
I’ll never feel comfortable with it if I only pull it out during emergencies, so I shove the disk into my jeans pocket and head out the door.
During the walk to my first class of the day, I notice how empty the campus feels. Some students who were here because metahumans had destroyed their schools, like me, have gone back home. Many left because they (or their parents) felt it was too dangerous at the school. There’s been a lot of speculation on the internet and even on mainstream news about why Skyville Academy keeps attracting metahuman attacks. Luckily, most of the theories floated around are way more convoluted and complex than the truth.
My hands are shoved in my pockets as I break into a jog to make sure I’m not late. I notice that my right thumb has been rubbing the magtonium disk in my pocket.
“You’re late,” Muldowney announces as I walk through the door.
The clock on the wall reads 8:43 a.m., which means I’m technically two minutes early.
“No, I’m not.”
As the words escape my mouth, I realize it would have been better to stay quiet. Muldowney has always been a jerk, but over the past few weeks, he’s been worse than ever. Challenging him hasn’t gone over well since the disastrous robotics club trip.
“Excuse me, Connolly?”
I hate it when he calls me Connolly.
“I’m just saying I’m not late. The clock says I still have two minutes.”
“Do you think I care what the clock says? The clock isn’t in charge of my class. I’m in charge of my class, and I decide when it starts. So if I say you’re late to class…”
“… then I’m late to class.”
Muldowney gives me a tight-lipped grin and gestures for me to take my seat. It irks me to back down from him, but he’s been borderline unhinged lately and itching for a fight. My grades have improved dramatically, but he doesn’t care. He still has it out for me.
I always assumed he didn’t like me because I did poorly in his class, but now I see it was just something to use against me. If it isn’t my grades, then it’s being late for class. If it isn’t being late for class, it’s my tone of voice. He’s always mad at me for something. Agreeing with him and letting things go is the path of least resistance.
The bell rings, and class formally begins. Muldowney spends most of the hour up at the whiteboard, introducing us to a new mathematical formula. I’m taking extensive notes. This is something I did before to keep Muldowney off my back, but now I realize it’s the only way I’ll learn anything.
If I intend to keep up a double life, I’ll need to apply myself to all aspects of it. I can’t skate by when I have no idea what problems might pop into my life at any minute.
The class goes by without incident. I catch eye contact from Muldowney a handful of times, but each time he sees I’m taking notes, so he has nothing to hassle me about. I wonder if he’s mad that I’m not an easy target anymore.
He glances up at the clock. “Did anyone see the news about the teleporter they found dead in Cleveland this morning?”
He places the cap back on his dry erase marker. With two minutes left in class, he appears to be wrapping up a little early. A few students nod.
“Well, for anyone who didn’t see it, apparently, this idiot tried to teleport into the bathroom of a passenger jet he saw flying overhead. I guess he thought he could sneak onto the plane and get a free ride. It was a full flight, so even if he had made it, there wouldn’t have been a seat for him. Anyway, he completely overshot the landing, so…” He whistles as he uses one hand to mime the teleporter plummeting to his death.
Most of the students laugh when his hands come together to make a splat noise, but not me. This catches his attention.
“What’s the matter, Connolly? I thought you had a sense of humor?”
“I do. I just don’t find someone’s death very funny.”
He puts on an exaggerated frown. “I didn’t realize you were so sensitive, Mr. Connolly.”
“I’m not sensitive, it’s just not funny.”
T
he bell rings, and everyone rises from their seats in a cacophony of screeching chairs.
“Don’t forget the exercises on page 237 are due tomorrow,” he reminds the class. “And Connolly, I’d like a word with you.”
I try not to roll my eyes or visibly sigh, but it’s extremely difficult. I’m in the middle of shoving my books into my bag and hope my face hasn’t betrayed me. The rest of the class shuffles out the door. Muldowney’s seated behind his desk and waves me over.
“You haven’t been to any robotics club meetings since Wichita Meadows,” he says matter-of-factly.
“It seemed like you didn’t want me there.”
“Whether I want you there is irrelevant. Honestly, I don’t really care. Some big strings were pulled for you to go on the field trip, which is puzzling, but it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Sarah Miller hasn’t been to any of the meetings either.”
“You’d have to ask her about that.”
“I did, and she informed me that she would be resigning from the club. Now, you wouldn’t have anything to do with that decision, would you, Mr. Connolly?”
“Of course not. Sarah makes her own decisions. Obviously, you don’t know her very well.”
Muldowney is silent, and I wonder if my comment crossed the line, especially considering Muldowney’s hair-trigger temper lately.
Instead of lashing out, he gives a self-satisfied smirk and continues. “I know you and she were romantically involved, so the timing is a little suspicious. You understand why I would think that.”
“Not really, and I especially don’t understand why you would take an interest in the personal lives of students.”
The smile fades. I should have known Muldowney would not react well to being called out like that. I can see the gears turning in his head as he mulls over his response, but there isn’t anything he can say.
Meta (Book 5): New Empire Page 2