Old World (The Survivors Book Eleven)

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Old World (The Survivors Book Eleven) Page 2

by Nathan Hystad


  Five of them entered the train, pulling the pilot with them. The doors shut, and a minute later, the engines were firing to life. Hugo’s eyes were wide, watching, but he didn’t cry. Mary was humming to him, stroking our son’s hair to calm him.

  “Paul, don’t,” I cautioned, as the leader of the colonies began to step toward the woman who’d spoken French to us earlier. He remained still, clenching his jaw as the other half of the group returned to their modified dropship. They climbed up and the door closed, the ship leaving.

  Our hovertrain was off the ground, the yellow thrusters burning brightly as it rose into the warm cloudless sky.

  They flew south, leaving us standing amidst the rows of lavender.

  Two

  Jules waited for the attack to come. Her opponent was biding his time, trying to gauge an opening, and she didn’t want him to gain the upper hand. She needed to place him in a false sense of security. She stepped to the side, her hands up in a defensive posture, and she feigned an ankle roll.

  She allowed herself to stumble just enough for her opposition to sense weakness. He lunged forward, attempting to grapple her. Instead, she used her sideways momentum to drag him to the ground while placing her knee behind his legs.

  He fell to the floor with a whoosh of breath exploding from his lungs, and he groaned as she sat on top of his chest. “Do you submit?” she asked, breathing heavily.

  “I…”

  She dug her knee into his ribs—not too hard—but it made him think twice about fighting back. He outweighed her by a good forty pounds, and it wasn’t often she bested him in hand-to-hand.

  “I submit,” Dean said, rolling his head to the side. “Can you get off of me?”

  She smiled, stood up, and offered her hand to the distraught teen boy. He glared at her palm and muttered something as he climbed to his feet on his own accord. Dean was growing like a weed, becoming a lot more like his father Magnus every year: tall, but not broad like the immense captain of the Horizon.

  “Nice work, Jules,” Loweck said with an approving grin.

  “She cheated!” Dean said incredulously.

  “I did not cheat,” Jules told him. “I tricked you. There’s a big difference.”

  “She’s right, Dean. There’s nothing wrong with faking an injury, or lulling the opponent into sensing weakness,” Loweck told him, but he still glowered.

  Jules sat next to him on the bench outside the ring. Dean leaned forward, his brown hair hanging over his eyes. Two other kids entered the ring, and Loweck counted from three to one to start their match.

  “If it helps, I think I did hurt my ankle,” she said, rubbing above her foot.

  He cracked a grin and glanced over to her. “Right. I’m not that much of a sore loser. Do you want me to take you to the medical office?”

  Dean was sixteen, and she was thirteen. At that moment, seeing the much larger boy beside her, she felt like a little girl, in way over her head.

  Jules stood and walked around on it, testing her weight on the ankle. It was a little sore, but nothing too serious. She’d use a tensor if it swelled up, then she’d go see the doctor. “I think it’s fine,” she told him.

  “Are you coming to the Horizon this weekend?” Dean drank some water, passing her a bottle, which she drank heavily from before answering.

  “Yeah. I think so. Mom and Papa are supposed to be home by then,” she said.

  “Are you ever going to stop calling him that?” Dean asked.

  “What?”

  “Papa. Uncle Dean,” he said. “I thought you’d outgrow it.”

  She flushed but hoped her already red cheeks hid the embarrassment. “I don’t know. I’ve always called him that. Seems weird to stop now.”

  “Don’t. Stop, that is. I think he likes it,” Dean told her, his expression softening. “Do you want to grab pizza later?”

  Jules nodded. “Don’t you have enough pizza, living with Karo and Ableen?”

  Dean looked over at Loweck and nodded. “I miss living with you guys.”

  “We could ask Mom if you could stay with us,” Jules said, hope filling her chest.

  “Nah. I hate putting Karo out, but I do like hanging out with the quadruplets. And staying at the residence outside the Academy is pretty handy. Maybe you should try to stay on campus next year,” Dean said.

  “I wish. They’ll never allow it. Could you imagine my father agreeing to that?” Jules asked.

  Dean laughed. “You’re right. I forgot who we were dealing with for a minute.”

  Jules peeked up, seeing there were only two minutes left in their class. “I better hit the showers. Thanks for letting me win today.” She threw a towel at Dean, and he caught it with one hand.

  “Any time. There’s nothing I like better than being beat up by a little girl,” Dean said, smiling at her.

  And there it was, the age difference coming to her like a slap in the face. She told herself not to worry about it. She was only a kid, and Dean… he was like family. “See you after classes.”

  Loweck declared a winner as Jules walked by the ongoing match and into the change rooms. There were five other occupants, each chattering to one another. They only had one room for all students, but each shower had its own private change closet.

  Jules grabbed her bag, entering the first empty stall, and locked the door, hanging her stuff on the hook. Soon she was in the shower, the water washing off the sweat and stress of the tough physical training. She loved hand-to-hand, even more than weapons training. She recalled the day the Kold had taken over the school and she’d broken into the training room for her first visit of the facility. It felt like a lifetime ago.

  She didn’t have long before class, and she rushed to dress, her wet hair hanging over her dry clothes as she emerged from the stall.

  “Help! She’s not breathing!” a boy was shouting. Jules ran to the sink bay and saw Siobhan on the ground, unmoving.

  “What happened?” Jules asked.

  “I don’t know. She fell,” said Canni, a Keppe student.

  Jules rushed to the unconscious girl’s side and saw her chest wasn’t moving. “Stand back!” she shouted, unsure what she was doing. She tried to remember their first aid training, but her mind went blank. “Siobhan, can you hear me?” Her fingers touched the girl’s wrist, and Jules felt her abilities spark to life, bursting through her self-imposed barrier.

  She placed a hand in the center of the girl’s chest and felt more than saw the problem. She had something lodged in her throat. Before she had time to think about it, she used her powers to loop a tendril of energy into the girl’s mouth, behind the blockage. She tugged it with her mind, breaking the piece of candy free from its jammed position.

  Siobhan remained still as the candy fell out of her mouth and onto the change-room floor. Then it came to Jules. She tilted the girl’s head back, lifting her chin before she leaned in and breathed in quick succession. She pushed on her chest cavity, trying to remember the right amount, switching to breathing again.

  Everything was silent to Jules as she attempted to save Siobhan’s life, and at the moment she was about to give up, the girl coughed and inhaled deeply. She rolled to her side, and Jules fell away as Loweck arrived.

  “Give her room,” Loweck said, coming to Siobhan’s side. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Jules remained on the ground, and Canni was staring at her with wide eyes. He helped Jules to her feet and cleared his throat. “Jules, your eyes are glowing,” he whispered, and she looked in the mirror, seeing her eyes and hands were pulsing green with Iskios power. She slammed her barrier closed and rushed from the room, Loweck calling after her.

  ____________

  It only took us twenty minutes to traverse the lavender fields, crossing the dry, fragrant ground, heading toward the tall warehouse structures. We suspected there would be someone there to call for help, but we realized our tablets and other communication devices weren’t operating.

  “I don’t un
derstand how they fried our stuff like that,” Paul told me.

  “You saw that they weren’t using pulse rifles or pistols. Whatever they used probably targeted a particular frequency to shut the tablets down,” Mary told us. She was holding Hugo’s hand, and the boy kept staring at the sky, as if another ship was about to lower and attack us.

  “A train heist?” I almost had to laugh about it. “These guys are ballsy, I’ll give them that. A world without technology? It’s a lofty goal, but not very sustainable,” I said.

  Mary glanced to the few people behind us. The little child was calm, nestled into his mother’s arms as we trudged the final rows to the far edge of the field.

  The warehouses were slate-gray windowless structures, and we made our way around them, searching for an entrance. We found a side door, and I tested it. Locked. Paul pointed across a dirt road, and I followed his finger to see an old French villa, a compact hatchback parked in front.

  “I think someone’s home,” Sammy said, picking up her pace.

  Even though it had only been an hour since the train had stopped, we arrived at the home with stone walls and a thatched roof, looking like we’d been through the wringer and back again. The day was warm, and sweat clung to my skin, dust and pollen stuck to the sweat. Hugo’s hair was covered in grass somehow, and I laughed, thinking how pathetic our group appeared.

  “Why must you always chuckle in the face of adversity?” Mary asked, trying to sound serious, but I noticed the corners of her mouth lifting in a suppressed grin.

  “Because frowning never seems to help,” I said as we crossed the road.

  A man exited the house, hands on hips. “Nice day for a walk?” he asked with a heavy French accent.

  The transport ship came an hour later, rushed from London’s colony. We all crammed into it, Hugo settling on my lap.

  “What are we going to do about these Restorers?” I asked Paul, who was squished in with his family on the bench in front of us.

  “I didn’t want to do anything, but if this is their new MO, we have to stop them,” Paul said.

  “How? Even you said it; their group is spread across the world,” Mary said.

  “Then we’ll learn where their home base is. Someone has to be giving the orders, setting the directive to their people, so we find out who that is…” Paul stopped, glancing at Hugo.

  “Then we deal with them, right?” I asked.

  “Right.”

  “We’re going to skip Madrid, Paul. I think we should return to Haven as planned, and you set up a meeting with all the colony heads. Let’s research what kind of issues, if any, the colonies have been seeing and pinpoint each occurrence on a map. We’ll likely see a pattern, or at least a higher frequency of attacks or provocations in one region,” I said.

  “And you think that’ll be where their home base is nearest?” Sammy asked.

  “It’s as good a place as any to begin searching. If anything, we’ll have a better chance of crossing paths with someone that’ll know the location,” I told them.

  Mary was watching me with her intense eyes, as if trying to read my expression. “And what then?” she asked.

  “Isn’t that clear? Someone needs to infiltrate their group,” I said.

  Paul had fully turned around in his seat, and he was staring directly at me. Hugo was fidgeting with his game, which was now powered down like the rest of our technology.

  “To what end?” Paul asked.

  “If one of us can join them, we’ll understand what they’re preaching, where they’re attacking, and exactly what measures they’re willing to engage in to accomplish their goal. We saw it today. They messed with our power core all the way in Paris, and remotely burned it out.

  “They’re advanced. They have a strong network. We can’t let them continue. It’s almost like having the Kold among us again. We won’t let that happen again, Paul. We can’t.” I said the last softly, taking some of the blame for the deaths on my own head.

  If I hadn’t made a deal with the Bhlat, then invited them into our Alliance of Worlds, the Kold wouldn’t have considered us a threat. They were ready to warn us, and introduce themselves as allies. Mary loved to remind me that if I hadn’t done what I needed to do by negotiating with the Bhlat, millions of humans would be dead, and so would she and many of my friends.

  Mary asked the inevitable. “And who’s going to volunteer for this immeasurable task?”

  All eyes settled on me.

  Three

  You were right to come see me. Regnig’s words pressed into Jules’ mind, and she shut the door behind her. Regnig led her into the library, past a few students, who were using the old reference books to do papers on distant worlds, ancient cultures from faraway systems.

  This half of the library was accessible by the entire student body, but the second half was where Regnig lived, and stored the most secret, dangerous, and troublesome texts from prying eyes. He claimed there was enough damning evidence and hidden truths inside to start an intergalactic war that would never end. She believed him.

  “How are you doing down here?” she asked him. She rarely saw Regnig above on the surface and knew the little birdman was more comfortable underground, like he’d been accustomed to on Bazarn Five.

  I am well, young Parker. Don’t worry about me. I manage to head up to Haven every few weeks. You know, to give the old wings a flap or two. He opened his beak and watched her with his one large eye.

  Jules laughed, walking beside him slowly. His legs were so short, and he was stooping even more these days. Regnig was old, and she hoped he’d never pass away. She’d loved visiting him since she’d been able to speak. Papa and the telepathic bird shared a bond, but so did the two of them.

  She reached over and took his clawed hand in hers as they walked.

  I’m glad you trusted me with this, Jules.

  “Who else could I trust?” Jules asked. Regnig stopped at the secret entrance to the other half of the library, checked over his shoulder to ensure no one watched, and accessed the doorway.

  They entered the other side, and Jules felt safe and protected as the door shut, sealing them in privacy.

  So you’re having troubles with your powers? Regnig asked this as he waddled forward, waving her to follow.

  “Yes.” She told him about what had happened after saving the choking student.

  Is this the first time your powers have acted out of turn?

  “No. It’s been happening more frequently. My barrier keeps being breached by them, or I can’t access the abilities at all. Sometimes I reach for them, and there’s nothing there to grasp hold of,” Jules told him.

  How very intriguing. Of course, there’s nothing to reference in regard to this in my entire library. The Iskios, while alive, didn’t have any more than the odd latent powers that rarely sprang to life. In their death, mixed with the crystals on the planet where their remains were placed, they caused the Vortex. He tapped a thin claw to the tip of his beak. You being human changes everything, though.

  Jules thought of something but nodded instead.

  Perhaps your biochemistry has changed enough to cause a fluctuation. This might be the root cause of the disturbance.

  “What can we do about it?” she asked.

  Come with me. They walked through the main library. Even though it was only a few years old, it felt antiquated; the scent of old books from every corner of the universe lined the many shelves.

  “How many of these did you handwrite?” Jules asked, knowing a lot of other races didn’t use books. Some only held stories and information in their minds; others only kept digital imprints, while some stored data in crystals.

  Hundreds, maybe thousands.

  “Wouldn’t it be simpler to keep them on your computer?” she asked.

  It would also be simpler to plug your brain into an avatar and stay in bed all day, but we don’t do that, do we? We wake up and walk around like we were meant to. Books were always meant to be books.

/>   “You sound like my dad,” she told him. “He’s always trying to make me read old paperbacks from Earth.”

  Your father is a wise man. Regnig pressed a door open, revealing a room Jules hadn’t seen before. The lighting was soft, and an elaborate series of beakers and flasks lined a desk along the wall.

  “What is this?” Jules crossed the room, trying not to bump into anything. Some of the glassware was hanging above open flames, and it all seemed a little archaic.

  Sometimes a little alchemy is superior to modern medicine. Regnig urged her forward. Have a seat.

  She obliged, eyeing the intricate series of bubbling beakers. “What is all this?”

  Just a little experiment. Do you recall me taking a blood sample from you when you were a little girl?

  Jules shook her head. “I don’t.”

  That makes sense. You were very young. Your mom and dad asked me to record it, even though Dr. Nick advised them nothing was different about you. They wanted me to store the blood, and if anything ever changed, compare it to a new sample. Would you mind if I took another sample now?

  Jules’ hands started to sweat at his thoughts. She didn’t mind the idea of a needle—she’d had enough of those in her life—but the sheer fact that something might medically be wrong with her, that had her scared. Part of her wanted to run away, never finding out what the issue with her abilities was, but she couldn’t do that. It was too dangerous not to check. “You can take my blood,” she finally told him.

  Good. He retrieved a needle from a sealed package. It had a vial behind it, a far older-appearing technology than the one her family doctor, Dr. Nick, used.

  “Will it hurt?” she asked, suddenly nervous.

  Not at all. Only a little prick. Regnig was good to his word, and she watched as her blood flowed into the vial. He pulled the needle out, passing a cotton ball to her. Press on this.

  She’d almost expected her sample to come out green, even though she’d seen her own blood enough to know that was silly. “Now what?” Jules asked.

 

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