by Peter Moore
After a couple of minutes, the Colonel and Blake began making “settle down” gestures as if they were trying to quiet down a stadium of British soccer fans.
“Thank you, thank you,” Blake called. “Really, guys, thank you.” He was wearing his casual uniform, looking more military than hero, except for the gold and red highlights.
When the applause died down, Blake bellowed, “I figure you guys can hear me, right? I don’t need a microphone?”
The whole crew shouted52 they could hear him just fine.
He’s something, all right, Layla thought.
Just kill me now, I thought back.
“So I know all of you must be wondering what I’m doing here, talking to you guys instead of the kids in the Academy, which is where people like me usually go for visits.”
I wondered if he appreciated the meaning of what he was saying.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said. “It’s true, I’m a busy guy and usually if I have any time to give to young people,53 I tend to spend it with the people who can get the most from it. And the truth is, those people are usually powered in all the best ways. So why, you’re wondering, am I here today talking to you instead of doing Justice Force business?54 Well, I’ll tell you. I have a duty to serve the impoverished.”55
I looked over at Layla. She was shaking her head. He’s a real charmer.
Isn’t he? If you’re really nice to me, I can get you his autograph.
Really? Really and truly? Be still, my heart.
Blake took a big, deep breath that made his chest seem especially wide. “And that’s why I’m talking to you today. Just because you don’t have powers like others in your family doesn’t mean that you’re any less of a human being. It doesn’t mean you need to live a worthless life. There are lots and lots of productive things you can do. I could stand here and rattle off a list of the literally hundreds of jobs and vocations and careers you could have, but that would really be a waste of my time. And yours. That’s what you have guidance counselors for, anyway.”
He paused a second for laughter that never came. “No, but seriously, there really are lots of things you can still do with your lives. Any career that’s available to a Regular is available to you, probably. It’s just that you have to accept who you are and maybe lower your expirations56 a little. But not all the way. It’s not that you have to sink to the bottom, no matter what anybody says. Find a decent middle level for yourself. If you don’t, you’re basically cutting off your nose despite your face.”57
Blake’s rallying pep talk went on for an incoherent twenty more minutes or so. It felt like half an eternity to me. I could have used my telepathy to find out if all the other kids thought he was as big a tool as I did, but I didn’t really want to know. There was nothing he could possibly do or say that would have embarrassed me more than what he had already done. And every person in that gym knew that he was my brother. Gah.
“Well, I guess I should let you kids get back to your classes. I can stick around a little bit if any of you have questions for me or, you know, want autographs.”
I waited until all the A-holes stomped off the bleachers and left the gym, laughing, no doubt at my brother. I couldn’t blame them.
Blake was standing next to the principal, talking and trying to look like he wasn’t disappointed that no one had stayed back to ask him questions.
Except for me.
“Colonel, is it okay if I talk to my brother for a couple of minutes before I go back to class?” I asked.
“Well, of course, sure you can.” He smiled at Blake. “If you’d like to address the other students, the Academy students, come by my office and I’ll set it right up.”
“What was that all about?” I asked him once the metal gym door shut behind the Colonel.
“It was a pep talk.”
“A what? Wow. I’d hate to see you when you’re trying to be discouraging.”
“Why would I be discouraging?”
“Why did you really come here? You don’t give a damn about self-actualization in the alternative program.”
“About…I don’t even know what that…whatever.”
“Why are you here?”
He lowered his eyes to meet my gaze. He had that steely look, the one that inspired so much confidence among Americans and citizens of our allied countries. “I’m here because I wanted to see what kind of people you’ve been fraternalizing with. I knew about the Keating girl, but I wanted to see for myself what the rest of your…peers look like. Very, very impressive.”
I wasn’t about to get into it with him right there in my school gym, so I turned to leave. He laid his big hand on my shoulder and stopped me. I wanted to shake him off, but it would have been frustrating and humiliating if I tried. That hand on my shoulder had the strength to crush solid rock into coarse sand.
“Let go,” I said.
“I’ll let go when I want. You’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”
“Let go of my shoulder, Blake.”
“Just like I thought, the kids in the A-program are losers. They’re going nowhere. And you’re not going to be one of them. Not if I can help it.”
“Blake?”
“You hear me? I’m going to talk to the Colonel—he thinks I’m the greatest thing going. I’m going to get him to put you back into the Academy. And you’re going to do it, real powers or not.”
I turned my head to look him in the eyes.
“Blake, get off me.”
“You are not—I repeat, not—going to become one of those losers. You are not gonna bring dishonor on our family. You will not—”
Let go!
His hand came off my shoulder like he had touched a hot stove.58 He blinked twice, totally confused.
Damn it. The last thing I wanted was for Blake to know I had telepathy. He stared at me. I was going to have to read him to find out how much he knew.
Whuh? Whuh?
His thoughts were totally disordered. He didn’t get it, didn’t understand that I’d gone into his mind. That had been close. I was going to have to remember to keep my emotions in check if I wanted to keep my power a secret.
I walked away from him, shoved open the gym doors harder than I had to, making them slam open, the sound reverberating through the gym.
It was all bravado, I know, but it felt necessary.
I wanted to make a point to Blake as I left.
There was no way to know what effect it really had. I didn’t read him, and I didn’t look back.
Student-Teacher Conference
Wittman and Tricia asked the bunch of us to stay after school for just a few minutes.
We were sitting in chairs and on desks, all of us trying to be casual.
“Thanks for sticking around,” Wittman said. “We appreciate it.”
“No problem. What’s up?” Layla asked. She was good in tense situations, and I was glad that she was speaking up.
“Well,” Tricia said, taking a deep breath, “we’ve been a bit concerned about you.”
“Us?” Javier said. “Which of us?”
“All of you. This little crew,” Wittman said. “We’re going to be straight with you, all right?”
We made various sounds of assent.
“We talk freely in class and we want you to think expansively.” Tricia cleared her throat.
“That’s why we like your classes so much,” I said.
“Good to hear,” Wittman answered. “But here’s the thing. We want to be clear on something: we’re not suggesting you take any, well, irresponsible action.”
“What do you mean?” Javier asked.
Tricia and Wittman looked at each other, apparently trying to decide who would speak next. Tricia did. “Well, it’s like this. We really don�
�t want y’all to be doing anything that would get you in trouble.”
“Like what?” Boots asked.
I knew what, of course. They had suspicions. But nothing concrete.
“We don’t know, exactly,” Wittman said. “But we do get the idea that you have been…well, plotting might seem overdramatic. But let’s just say, up to something.”
We all looked at one another. I could read panic in Javier’s mind. Peanut and even Boots weren’t too much calmer.
“Yes, that’s it,” I said. “We’re actually planning to overthrow every hero team we can find. Total destruction.”
Wittman and Tricia laughed, but there was an uneasiness to their tone. “We don’t mean to make this sound ridiculous, but we’re worried.”
“We’re fine,” Layla said.
“We talk a good game,” I said, “but seriously. We couldn’t find real trouble even if we wanted to.” I laughed.
Bluffs
We’re being watched,” I said. Not that I could see anything. It was almost pitch-black where we were, by the abutment under the bridge. The bridge itself loomed huge above us, stretching out into the thick fog that rose off the river. The lights on the suspension cables several hundred feet above glowed like fireflies. They didn’t drop any light, though, down to where we were. Which was both unnerving and a relief.
“How would you know we’re being watched? I can’t see a damned thing,” Peanut said.
“I can feel it.” I could sense thought patterns from a few different places. Not one was closer that twenty yards, but there were a few in front, a couple above and behind us on the rocky bluffs, and a few more up high, somewhere between us and the bottom deck of the bridge.
“Can you tell how many?” Layla asked.
“Not sure. Could be ten. Maybe more, fifteen or twenty.”
“Sounds about right.” It was a deep, gravelly voice, coming from the darkness to my left, about ten yards away, closer than I’d guessed.
Every one of us jumped. Javier bumped into me as he whipped around to aim the proto-gun he’d built into the darkness. The rest of us just dropped into low crouches. Like that would do anything to help us if we were attacked.
“Yes, we are here for a meeting?” Javier said, making it sound more like a question than a statement. “A certain individual whose name begins with the letter M?”
“Mutagion ain’t here,” Gravel-Voice said. “You think he’s stupid? You think he would walk into a trap?”
Layla cleared her throat. “No, we don’t think he’s stupid. And this isn’t a trap. We came to see him. But we don’t know who you are.”
“Don’t worry about who I am. What I gotta know is, who are you?”
I wasn’t sure if I was seeing it right, but it looked like there were two narrow red eyes watching us. Occasionally they disappeared for a fraction of a second, which I took to be this guy blinking.
Javier somehow got up some nerve and said, “Look. We made an arrangement to meet Mutagion here. It was his choice of location. We are the Hellions, which is exactly who I told him we are. Now, if he is not coming, just tell us now and we will leave.”
No response. Just more blinking of those red eyes, if that’s what they were.
I could barely make out Gravel-Voice raising a hand to his mouth as he talked, apparently into a phone or transmitter. “I don’t know, there’s about ten of them…I’m guessing…Okay, hold on….” I could just barely hear the guy counting us, very slowly, stuck after four, then louder, “Five! Five. That’s what I was gonna say. There’s five of them.”
Of course, this was the first time any of us had been close to a Phaeton. Hell, it wasn’t common for anyone at all to be this close to one of them and not be fighting or running or flying away. The fact that he had trouble counting wasn’t surprising. Many of the Phaetons suffered from serious cognitive deterioration because of their black-market self-enhancements.
“Yeah, those are uniforms or costumes or something,” Gravel-Voice said. “I know. They look like a pack of silly gooses….Oh, right. Silly geeses.”
Maybe this Phaeton didn’t have too firm a grasp of arithmetic or grammar, but his sense of fashion was right on the money: we did look like a bunch of silly geeses.
“Okay,” Gravel-Voice said. “I get it. I’ll take care of it, just like you say.” There was a beep as he disconnected whatever device he’d been talking into. “Yeah, so, it’s like this,” he said to us. Based on where his voice was coming from, I figured the guy to be close to seven feet tall. “Mutagion is gonna meet with you, but it’s gotta be a certain way. Just so you get that you’re outmanned, I should tell ya that we got fourteen Phaetons around here, all of them with weapons—hardware and bioware—aimed at the bunch of youse. One word from me or the boss and you guys is dust.”
“How do we know that’s true?” Javier said, making me immediately wish I had been reading him so I could have stopped him from essentially daring these Phaetons to kill us.
“That mean you’re volunteering to become a demonstration?” came a slurred voice from the bluffs directly above us.
“Uh, no. I was only asking,” Javier said.
That idiot is going to get us killed, I thought to Layla.
He’s trying to establish a confident stance, she thought back.
Well, he’s succeeding at establishing a moronic stance. Can you get him to act a little smarter?
He’s not that good an actor.
“Everybody, stay exactly still,” Gravel-Voice said, and almost immediately, a police patrol helicopter thwack-thwack-thwacked overhead. Its searchlight beams swept the cliffs, but we were deep in the shadow of the bridge.
While the area near us was lit up for a second or so, I tried to get a look at Gravel-Voice, but I was too late. All I saw was a silhouette, and it—he—was big and tall.
I forced myself to calm down and concentrate. I tried to read him. All I got, though, were garbled words, out of order, almost like a recording of speech played backward.
His voice dropped several tones when he spoke. There was no mistaking it was directed straight toward me. “You try your telepathy on me again, little man, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
I nodded, stupidly, given that it was dark.
“That’s better,” he said. He could see me nodding. Night vision? “I don’t got psi powers, but I can feel when someone’s tryin’ to read me. I’m, whatdoyacall, sensitive to being read. Mutagion, too, so don’t even think about it. We better get moving. He don’t wanna wait all night.”
The fact that he could feel me trying to read him kind of shook me up. I would have to be very careful.
Gravel-Voice directed us to go to the narrow service track we had walked down to get to the spot.59 “There’s a little concrete path. Follow it.”
“You think we could get a light or something?” Peanut asked.
“No.”
So we went single file, each one of us hanging on to some part of the outfit of the person directly in front. Javier led the way.
“We have some concrete here,” he said, his voice hushed. Layla and Boots were between me and Javier, so it took a few steps before I felt the loam switch over to concrete under my feet. “Stone wall on the right,” he said. “Use it to guide and keep balance.” I couldn’t say which bothered me more: that he was a pretty good leader or that Layla was hanging on to a leather strap on his jacket.
Don’t be such a child, she thought to me. Are you seriously going to get jealous in the middle of all this?
What exactly are we in the middle of? Remind me.
I don’t know anymore.
Maybe we’re in the middle of our last hour alive?
I heard a stumble and Layla’s hissed curse a few yards in front of me. The whole line of us lurched and almost
fell forward like dominos.
Sorry, I sent her way. Maybe I should just keep my thoughts to myself for a while.
Good idea.
I didn’t know exactly where we were headed, but one thing was clear from what I could hear: we were walking to the edge of a wharf overlooking the river.
It was the perfect site for a mass execution.
Stepping Off
Sometimes, when you’re involved in something out of your ordinary routine, like a long night in the hospital emergency room or a vacation gone wrong, reality becomes distorted. It feels like you’re in a weird semi-dream state.
Lined up at the edge of the pier, gazing across nearly a mile of black water to the lights on the other side of the river, while a Phaeton death squad was undoubtedly taking position to shoot us, sending our probably headless bodies toppling over and splashing into the garbage and oil slicks floating on the water—well, that wasn’t exactly what I would call a sweet dream.
There was a dull snapping sound in front of us coming from out over the water. I couldn’t quite figure out what the sound was.
Any idea what’s going on? I thought to Layla.
Not a clue.
A nasal voice came from the same area as the snapping: “You coming in or what?”
“In where?” Peanut asked.
“Go to the edge of the pier,” the nasal voice said. “Near me. Bend down and you’ll feel the top of a ladder going over the side of the pier. Go down three steps and step forward.”
“Like hell,” Javier said.
“This was your idea,” Layla said.
“My idea was to meet with Mutagion, not to drown myself.”
“You ain’t gonna drown, stupid,” the nasal voice said.
“Well, I don’t have aqua-respiration,” Javier said. “And I don’t have levitation. I’m not stepping out into water only to sink to the bottom of the river.”
I didn’t mean to read Layla, but her thoughts were so strong I couldn’t help but hear her. Javier, you got us into this, you jerk-off. Now you’re backing out? What a little bitch.