by RD Hale
'Mila, I'm impressed. It appears you're shooting skills are superior to Arturo's!'
'No, they're not, Jardine. I killed a stag!'
'Shut up, Arturo. You're just jealous.' Mila holds her chin aloft.
'You've demonstrated a degree of potential, Mila. You helped us install the virus and you have natural shooting ability. You're courageous and I believe you'll prove to be reliable. Your energy is fantastic but you must maintain your focus,' Jardine suggests.
'I'm totally focused.'
'Good, I like your enthusiasm... Dynah, I'd like to know more about your fellow escapees, they could prove incredibly useful. Do you think it would be possible for me to meet them?' Jardine asks.
'I-I'm not sure. I could ask them.'
'Thank you, Dynah, that would be very helpful. Over the coming weeks we'll try to help you develop your powers... Ahran, it's unfortunate you've been dragged into this because it isn't your fight.'
'It is my fight, Jardine. They kept me prisoner, treat me like an animal and if they catch me, they will put me down like an animal.'
'Fair enough, Ahran. In the time we've spent together, I've tried to prepare you as best as I can. I'll teach you as much as possible to help you survive in this world. With your physical capabilities you'll make the perfect soldier but I'll never ask you to fight unless there is no other choice.'
'But I want to fight, I want to crush them!'
'Ahran, you have real spirit. I'm going to enjoy the coming weeks.'
An Impressive Demonstration
The cabin interior is tinted orange by morning rays creeping through portholes, weakly illuminating the room like nightlights. Sitting at the breakfast table, I devour bacon and scrambled eggs as Jardine, who has already eaten, writes on pieces of card for an unspecified reason. The spelk-like Dynah chews food with tormenting slowness and ignores her last bacon rasher as she slouches, rubbing her belly like the act of eating was an ordeal.
'Are you gonna eat that?' I ask without response, digging my fork into pig meat and gratefully wolfing the rasher down. Then I continue: 'So Dynah, it must be difficult being different, trying to fit in. Obviously we appreciate your uniqueness, but do you ever wish you were normal?'
'What do you mean normal?'
'Ya know, like everyone else.'
'But I'm more powerful than everyone else!' Dynah raises her voice slightly.
'Aye you are, silly me. I'd take your weirdness over our normality any day! Anyway I'm making progress. With my training I'll be as powerful as you soon, just in a different way.'
'Of course you will, Arturo.'
Leaning back, I tense biceps and Dynah gives a baffled frown as if to ask: 'What on Eryx are you doing?' Muscle fibres in my arms twitch as they are repaired one by one and hand skin has changed from greyish-white to light brown. For some reason Ivor is standing in the corner of the room, beside a hanging animal pelt and I have not bothered to ascertain the reason but he is not in suitable condition to be ordered into action.
'Dynah, these cards are numbered one to ten. I will hold up a card one at a time and I want you to guess the number,' Jardine says.
All breakfast plates are now empty bar a few scraps of fat and everyone places teacups down, sitting in anticipation because the boundaries of impossible could once again be about to shift. Our expectant eyes focus on Dynah as she watches Jardine pick up a card, carefully concealing the front with his palm.
'Eight,' Dynah says slowly, squinting in concentration.
'Correct... And again.'
'Five.'
Dynah repeats these remote viewing feats numerous times to frequent rounds of applause and occasional disappointed groans. Nyota makes notes as we strive to comprehend the metaphysical processes of Dynah's transhuman brain. She seems to struggle as though she cannot quite see and her face displays frustration every time she answers incorrectly but the fact she can see at all is extraordinarily impressive.
The sight of this marvel in action makes me doubt there is another bunch of individuals on this planet as diversely talented and such potential should reinforce squadron solidarity. I cannot wait to discover what other secrets our most powerful weapon has buried in her genetic code.
'Wow Dynah, this is impressive. You've answered correctly sixteen times out of twenty. We'll have to run the test a few more times to confirm it was not a statistical fluke but this is an impressive start. You've demonstrated what so-called psychics have failed to for decades! Always making their excuses, saying the tests are biased. Well you've just shown our test is perfectly fair! I'm rambling... Nyota, can you bring out our test subject?' Jardine requests.
Given Dynah's history of repelling bullets and nullifying forcefields, I expect the truly show stopping feats are yet to come. The room brims with expectation as we silently wait for Nyota to return from the backroom so little Miss Impossible can begin the next test.
Nyota emerges with an interesting and potentially disastrous prop, placing a cage onto the breakfast table which is bare of the cloth. A mouse is running on an exercise wheel and I know any suggestion of cruelty could backfire as I recall Dynah's reaction to the piglet in the SuperMart. Nyota chalks a wriggling white line onto the pine surface, then she unclips the cage door to grab the rapidly kicking mouse by the tail.
'Dynah, you said you can control animals. Would you like to give it a try? See if you can make Harvey follow this line,' Jardine instructs.
'I'm not sure if I can.' Dynah stares at the top of her hands as though reluctant to continue. Nevertheless Nyota places Harvey the mouse onto the table and his claws slip and scratch over the varnished surface, before stopping dead as though he is frozen in place. Our test subject crawls to the starting point, pauses then sprints sideways and returns to the line but skids past due to momentum.
Dynah's glowing eyes fix on Harvey whose scurrying feet follow the designated path with only a small degree of veering as he attempts to resist the effects of mind control. Reaching the end of the line, the furry bundle careers off the table into the hands of a delighted Mila who strokes his fluffy white nose with her index finger.
'Oh, you're sooo cute!'
'You were killing his furry friends just yesterday, hypocrite! Hey, we could strap cameras or explosives to this little guy and use him to breach enemy territory,' I suggest as my pacifist side fades into memory.
'That's not a bad idea, Arturo... And Dynah, if you can control people like that you'll be able to rule the world!' Jackson says.
'Time for a real test. Ivor, wake up. Let's go outside,' Jardine instructs, rising to his feet.
Seeing as Ivor has remained in hibernation mode since arrival and his components did not appear to be fully functioning when he was last active, I am tempted to object to this experiment on the basis he may be taken beyond disrepair. But I cannot resist discovering the outcome so I remain silent as the mechanoid's visor lights up and his augmented forearm rises to salute his organic masters.
'Interventional optimised robotics at your command.'
'Ivor, we're going to gather outside and I do not want you to obey a command from anybody, but me for the duration of this exercise.'
'Understood Jardine,' Ivor replies.
Our squadron follow the limping droid into drizzle to witness the awe-inspiring prospect; all apart from Nyota who mutters and waves a finger as she shuffles to the basement. I have no idea how she can resist witnessing the sparring session of the century - Ivor the injured robosoldier versus Dynah the gifted mutant child.
If Dynah is successful the only thing capable of stopping her will be her own kind. This training regime could see her flourish into a force for freedom - a manipulator of minds, inanimate objects and natural phenomena. She represents a symbol of hope which could kickstart a revolution and once we have learnt all we need to know, we will take her away. She is ours.
'Dynah, I want you to stand over there and Ivor, stand over there... Ivor, Dynah will attempt to manipulate your limbs with telekines
is but I want you to remain motionless,' Jardine instructs.
The mechanoid settles at the edge of the plateau at a distance from his puppet-master who stands at the fringe of trees. Dynah focuses for one or two uneventful minutes as we gasp in expectant awe. Then Ivor's leg creaks and moves the tiniest bit, but the desired result does not emerge.
'It's no good, he's too heavy.' Dynah droops her shoulders.
'Come on, Dynah. Your eyes didn't even glow, I know you can do better. Remember when those guys attacked us?'
'Dynah, I understand your powers are more effective if you're threatened. Is that correct?' Jardine booms.
'Well y-'
'Excellent. Ivor, charge at Dynah!'
'Are you sure this is what you want me to do, Jardine?'
'Yes, that's an order!' Jardine gives a deranged swivel of the eyes.
Entering kill mode upon command Ivor charges, leaving deep footprints as his left leg twists awkwardly and the momentum of his unsteady gait is set to shatter Dynah into bloody pieces. I can hardly stand to look as she trembles on the spot, before letting out a piercing scream and her eyes glow as an energy field drifts through the air towards Ivor. Armour plates rattle like the mechanoid is about to self-destruct as he stops mid-stride, frozen in time just inches from his intended victim and ears ring as relieved gasps turn into elated cheers.
'Well done, Dynah! Continue,' Jardine bellows.
The ravaged contraption, who moments ago was struggling to run in a straight line, spins on the spot. Hinges screech as Ivor half-folds those inflexible arms and flails graceless legs with his newly-formed fan club clapping along. A hand is held above his disproportionately small head and he prances on toes like a ballerina. The dancing mechanoid must be the highlight of the vacation so far and all Ivor needs is a tutu for the image to be complete.
'Don't stop now, Dynah! What else can you do?' Jardine asks.
Dynah thrusts her hands aloft and ionised gas leaps between her fingertips as she summons the element of fire. A swirling ball of flame grows and I am unsure how the supergirl's skin is able to resist the exothermic reaction as heat singes the walls of my nostrils. The conjuration roars like a furnace, swelling into a fiery sun as palms spread and it shoots into the sky, exploding into globules of plasma which cool to nothingness as they rain down.
'Wow!'
Dynah's focus switches to a nearby sapling and its puny branches stretch upwards as she raises her hand. Suction plucks every leaf and they whirl in a vortex as the trunk bursts free of the ground and gyrates in the air, but as I question this unnecessary vandalism the spinning stops. Roots reach for the soil, feeling their way back into channels as leaves flutter over to barren branches and reconnect. The juvenile tree is carefully replanted and the disturbed soil returns to its original state as if time has been reversed.
'If I didn't know better, I'd swear one of the laws of thermodynamics has just been broken! Dynah, there is a target on that tree. If I fire this rifle in the opposite direction, do you think you can direct the bullet towards the bullseye?' Jardine asks.
'I can try,' Dynah replies.
Jardine grips the stock of a hunting rifle and sets his sights across the valley as we stand against the cabin wall, out of the unpredictable line of fire. BANG! A curving streak boomerangs towards the paper target, where sure enough there is a bullet hole alongside the bullseye. Amidst the excitement I notice the surpasser of expectations wobbling and she almost faints as Jackson steps over to clutch her elbow.
'I need to lie down now, I feel tired,' Dynah whispers, having more than earned a rest.
The sensational showcase comes to an end as spectators wander back into the cabin and I breathe a sigh of delirium with radical tomorrows whirling in my mind. Mila is last to follow so I exploit our private moment by wrapping arms around hips I was never meant to touch again but the girl of my tormenting dreams jolts and slaps gentle hands away, marching from what I thought she wanted.
'Hey, what's wrong? I've waited-'
'Arturo, now is not the time or place. Stop being inappropriate.' Mila glares from the doorway with unfathomable revulsion and I gasp, wobbling as the reaction takes her devotee aback.
'But that night-'
'Too many bad memories, Arturo. Leave it... I'm going inside.'
Membership Confirmed
Relationship complexities with Mila cannot be unravelled without privacy so romance is currently on the backburner. Over the coming weeks our training regime intensifies and I gain a sense of purpose from our modest ambition to save modern civilisation. By the end of the month this course in survival, subversion and combat makes me feel like a living weapon. And I am infatuated with the potential of the rebellion I swore I would not be part of.
One morning during an arduous race in which I have found myself in last place with a stitch, I nudge Mila out the way and connect my belt hook to the zipline. Soaring across the gorge, I gawp at water rapids stretching into the mist as I pass a swarm of puffer toads drifting like balloons on the breeze. Reaching the valley wall I drop onto the plateau and my momentum slows to a walk as I spot Anguson with his forearm around Ahran's throat. Dynah is watching their scuffle in thumb-biting dismay.
'I won fair and square, cheat!'
'Ahran's the w-inner! Ah-ran al-ways wins!'
'Whoa, fight!' Mila jogs up from behind, panting. 'My money's on the caveman.'
'Bet you ten credits Anguson kicks his arse.'
'Please stop fighting.' Dynah scurries back a few steps.
Ahran breaks free of the headlock and silverbacks continue to grapple for the sake of egotism, nullifying each other's efforts. Having seen replays of the majority of Anguson's cage fights I cannot recall him ever struggling in this manner. With arms locked tight around each other, the rivals struggle to their knees and Jardine storms out the hut, looking distinctly unimpressed. Grabbing both necks he bashes thick skulls together and immediately the pair let up, sitting like a pair of naughty school boys.
'What kind of example are you men setting for the youngsters? Behave yourselves and come inside, I need to speak to you,' Jardine instructs.
Still breathless from our morning routine we follow the leader into the log cabin and the squadron gathers at the table. Sweat has soaked through our clothes and Ahran and Anguson are covered face to boot in mud with bits of grass poking from their hair, but the sternness of Jardine's gaze is somewhat at odds with the humorous sight as he addresses us:
'It's been great having you guys here. You've learnt a lot in a short space of time and you've been of real use. I want to take this opportunity to invite you to officially join the rebellion. This means agreeing to rules which are not broken under any circumstances. You'll regularly check in with us and you can be called away at any time. We'll not ask you to do anything beyond your capability, but if asked we do not expect you to say No. The benefits are many. You'll not go hungry and you'll always have a place to go, people you can rely on. You'll be granted access to weapons, if and when you need them. You'll learn a lot and you'll play a role in changing the future of our nation... What do you think?'
'I've been thinking about this a lot. San Teria need to be stopped. I'm not prepared to stand idly by while our people are exterminated. I'm not prepared to be considered less than equal,' I say.
'What do you think, Mila?' Jardine asks.
'Yeah, everything he said. Count us both in.'
'And you, Dynah?'
'Those people kept me prisoner and experimented on me. They killed my friends. They must be stopped.'
'Goood! This is just what I wanted to hear. You can now consider yourselves official members of the rebellion. To be honest, Arturo, I considered you one of us the moment I asked you to install the virus. I had a feeling about you... Here, I have holowatches for communication purposes and two thousand credits for each of you. I trust you will spend sensibly.'
'Hey, what you looking at me for?' Mila snatches notes from Jardine's hand, stuffing them int
o her pocket.
'Now, we need to decide our next move. We can't stay here forever.'
'Thank you, Jardine. It's been great staying here and we've learnt so much but it's time for us to head home.'
'Are you sure that's a good idea, Arturo? We can offer you another hideout, you know they'll be looking for you.'
'In the slums? Nah, they've got no idea where we live. As long as we avoid the hubs we'll be fine, blend in with the vermin.'
'Vermin? You shouldn't speak of your people like that... Here's your money. I'll contact you from time to time on the holowatch. Mostly it'll be to check everything's okay but always be prepared to be called into action. Also, I'll give you additional training if and when required - you're still novices. If ever you're in trouble, say the words: ASTR emergency into your holowatch. We'll get the message and send someone to your co-ordinates.'
Chapter Eleven
Homecoming
Just after sunrise we say our goodbyes to the cellmate who has been part of my life for an eternity and the half-human twin he was separated from at birth. Jackson drives us across decimated country sporadically regrowing from ashes and it feels like we are abandoning our unspoiled sanctuary to return to enemy territory, but I insisted for necessary reasons.
After many hours we reach an almost forgotten abode and following recent rites of passage and my phase of rejuvenation I once again feel jaded, disconnected. I hesitate at the entrance which invokes the same sense of intrusion as when I set foot in Sky City. Mila slides the doors open and leads us through the vestibule, passing the rusty van. A bullet-riddled Ivor struggles for foot space in the debris as he lumbers across to the corner, entering hibernation mode and I am strangely surprised to see everything more or less as I left it.