To the surprise of the Remis, the Aetas met the Remis on an open plane, with some records saying their numbers were as few as a five to one ratio. To any general, this was an easy opportunity to eliminate the enemy. In a single swoop, and the Remis leapt at the chance. Here, now they could finally end the nuisance that had plagued them for years.
However, the Aetas held a secret. A deadly, yet low power, secret.
Deep in their jungles, there was a spring so clear it is said you couldn't see the water. And the Aetas discovered that anyone born near this spring developed the power of invisibility – a power regarded as low today due to easy detection and precaution, though it is still rare. And what the Remis did not know, was that one thousand Aeta citizens waited hidden by their own power on top of a small hill in the center of the battlefield.
When the Remis charged, they split around the hill, leaving the Aeta forces untouched. And the Aeta main force met them in defense, not attempting to attack but rather to survive, blocking the Remis with enormous shields as they waited for their brothers and sisters on the hill to creep behind the Remis forces.
The five Remis generals were slain within thirty seconds of each other by invisible swords, and the ranks below them eradicated moments after that. Death befell the Remis force from behind, silently cutting the throats of wave after wave of unsuspecting soldiers, and leaving only bodies in their wake, targeting high power individuals first, wiping out any with high power levels before they had a chance to use their power.
When the Remis finally discovered what had happened, they panicked with no high level officers in command. And the Aeta force crushed them despite all disadvantages, in a move that is said to have brought about the end of the Remis empire when it collapsed a few years later.
All this occurred due to one unknown power. Today, the ways to spot Invisibles are well known – to use mirrors that reveal them, to look for footprints, or for the telltale shimmer when they move. No general in their right mind would have conducted the attack. But to the Remis, this was knowledge that came too late.
So that is why even a lesser power is most dangerous when it is unknown. The effects are too hard to predict, the battle uneven. Class, this is why knowing your opponent is more important than anything else. And why your first move should be to find out all the information you can about them.
Countless times in history, this trend has repeated itself – that the first party to discover a new, secret power has a weapon of almost unimaginable strength while that power remains a mystery. And even today, the discovery of new and seeking of rare powers is predicated upon this superiority, of an ability to decimate an enemy before they can react.
It's what spurred exploration of the new world. It's the reason that empires remained empires, due to their access to varieties of powers. And it's why today, every power must be classified and documented, even if their power is so weak that they're practically a Regular.
Chapter 25
“Our first unit of this class will be on the capabilities of each special Variety, so you stand a chance defending against them,” said Linns as he paced the area in front of the board. “You'll learn the telltale signs of when Josh, the Flamethrower here, is preparing to launch an incendiary in your direction. We'll go over why Arial, our Flier, would have a hard time following you if you run a complicated zig-zag pattern. And we'll explain the rationale behind SC being unable to simply rip you limb from limb with telekinesis, rather than hurling objects at you. One day, I promise you, this education will save your life.”
He returned to the book at his desk and opened it, holding it up for all to see.
“To start, turn to chapter three. Each power can be placed in a group depending upon its abilities, which makes these facts far easier to remember. The same wall that will stop a Flamethrower will also stop a Tempfluxer and a Blizzarder. For this reason, they are clumped together in your studies, under the grouping Temperature Modulators. They share many of the same strengths, and many of the same weaknesses, with footnotes of exceptions at the end of each chapter. For now, I want you to memorize every group and their components, then later, we will dive into the details. Study up!”
He walked back behind his desk, taking a seat and watching us pore over the pages, dozens of charts that marked power families and their members. For instance, Telekinetics and Lucio's power, Memwriters, were under the same grouping, which explained why we had been taken to the same holding cell.
Class was dismissed for lunch at eleven, then we were directed to the academy's old gym. One room over, in the auxiliary gym, I could hear Blake's voice, which meant the Uppers would be in there. But since breakfast, I had yet to see a single Bottom.
The gym itself had been transformed from what I assumed had been a regular open multi-sports space to a training arena. Body bags hung from the ceiling on chains at varying intervals, specific ones marked with red flames or other symbols to indicate the power types they were designed to withstand. On the floor were a variety of obstacles, from nets and dirt mounds to an actual flowing creek that cut through the center of the room. The walls were padded, the windows replaced with boards, and the lights far above surrounded with protective cages.
“Welcome,” rang out a voice from behind us after we had entered and were milling about, our eyes on tape markings that crisscrossed the ground, “to general power training! Here we will cover tactics that are common across many powers, from projectiles to strategic positioning to close combat. And here, you will learn to defeat your enemy.”
We turned around to find the source of the voice, but there was only air, the space between us and the door empty. My eyebrows came together as I searched for the instructor, and the voice rang out from behind again.
“To defeat your enemy, you must know how to predict his every move!”
We whipped around as a class back to the gym, but still there was no one, only the equipment swaying from the rafters and the dim shafts of light that made their way through the cracks in the boarded windows.
“You must be one step ahead every time! Always with the surprise, and always with the advantage!”
This time, the voice cascaded from directly above us, raining down from the ceiling. But yet again, as we searched, we found nothing, except for a thin trail of dust that trickled down from one beam.
“Ready to strike with the perfectly timed punch for absolute decimation!” came the shout, as directly in front of Arial a figure materialized, his knuckles held an inch from her nose as he held a fist in the last stages of a strike, his body in a fighter's stance. She squeaked, throwing herself backwards and ten feet into the air, bowling over the students behind her.
“And that, that is how you defeat your enemy,” continued the man, holding his pose as Arial stayed aloft. “Only when your instinct knows their actions before your mind, when you feel their movements instead of seeing them, when you react to actions that have not yet come into existence. Only through discipline and repetition can you learn this. And I, Instructor Peregrine, shall teach you.”
He disappeared before us, then materialized behind once more, his voice like a bark.
“Now line up! Your lesson starts today, today we train your instinct, your reflexes. Your animalistic nature! That's it, behind the line of tape. We start with basic exercises, those beneficial no matter your strengths and weaknesses. The first, a sense of urgency. Move! Let's go!”
Chapter 26
“No, Josh, concentrate! Thinner, more accurate!”
Instructor Peregrine flashed beside Josh the Flamethrower, putting a hand under the bottom of the boy's elbow, redirecting a stream of fire slightly upwards. The target at the other end of the gym was a piece of white paper, six inches by six inches, with a red frame around it.
“Remember, you must only hit the inner target!” he commanded as fire splashed across both red and white paper. “Fire is dangerous, destructive. You must learn to contain that danger, to control it, or it will claim many liv
es, including your own.”
Then Peregrine stepped away from Josh and into nothingness, only to appear in front of Arial, who floated twenty yards in front of a pitching machine stocked with tennis balls.
“First precision, then power!” he said as she dodged the first projectile by launching herself several feet to her right. “Too much, too much. I want the tennis ball to just whiff the hairs on your arm, for you to just barely avoid it. You must be agile, nimble, not clumsily leaping from place to place!”
It had been three days since Instructor Peregrine had given us our first lesson – three days filled with soreness courtesy of Instructor Cane, mental exertion from Instructor Linns, and power usage from Instructor Peregrine. Day one had been easy – simple stretches he advised us to perform in the morning, bed, and before workouts.
“It's for alignment,” he said as we reached upwards, our backs arched. “You cannot be separate from your power. You must feel it within and around you, a crucial piece of you, not merely an ability. Stretch and feel where it begins and ends. Where you begin and end.”
“Sounds pretty hokie,” muttered Lucio as he held his hands upwards, then jumping when Peregrine appeared just behind his ear and whispered, “Far less hokie than your memory games, Lucio. But here, I teach you how to make them far more than games.”
Lucio swallowed and kept his arms stretched towards the sky as Instructor Peregrine disappeared once more, flitting away to correct another student's form.
Day two had been an analysis of each of our powers, then matching us to our assigned tasks. And day three had been practicing those tasks over and over again, repeating the same motion for hours until exhausted. Soon the actions felt like chores, or boring, the repetition growing tedious.
“We are ingraining the motions past your thoughts, past your memories, into your instincts and reflexes,” he said as my breath came heavily and I prepared to repeat my assigned task once more, and he appeared on my right.
Nausea washed over me when he appeared, a feeling that occurred whenever he used his power close to me and I felt the space around me shift, a hole opening and closing in a split second where he passed through. It was similar to when I created the black spheres, the feeling alien when not generated by myself, and different than I used it. Where I pushed the space, he tore it open, a sensation similar to scratching nails on a chalkboard.
“SC, concentrate,” he shouted as I focused on four tennis balls that rested on the floor. “Aim! You must have the control to strike multiple targets, you must have the precision! Practice. Ready, go!”
Flicking both my wrists upward, I raised the four balls, then hurled them at the far wall. Four painted targets showed where I should have directed them, but with my ability to create only two force points, the balls clustered together, striking two of the targets off center.
“SC, you are dragging the projectiles forwards. Instead, you must grip each individually, guiding their path. Do not hold back!”
“I'm trying,” I hissed as the balls rolled back.
“Try harder and practice!” he commanded and disappeared again, this time nearly making me retch. And after a few hours, I found I could accurately direct the ball clusters, but never striking more than two targets.
After his class were dinner and chores, then another shower and bed. And bed was something I welcomed after the tiring days, humming a song as I prepared. Always the same song, though I could never quite remember where I learned it, nor the words.
Until the night I was awakened by my window blowing open, and I heard the voice singing it. And I realized there was nothing more I wanted to be than the perfect student, the strongest in all three classes. The example for all.
Chapter 27
SC, are you listening to me?
The voice trickled down through my consciousness, echoing among my thoughts. I blinked, my eyes drooping from the night before, stifling a yawn. For three hours, I had crept away in the dead of night back to the auditorium where Instructor Peregrine trained us, repeating the drills over and over deep into the night. Working on my form and my technique. Trying to become the perfect Telekinetic.
To be the perfect Telekinetic, the perfect student. And that, of course, was something I wanted above all else – to move to the rank of Upper, and join those in high favor to Siri.
I frowned as I practiced, whipping the balls past me to hit the targets, my aim improving each time but still failing to hit all four of them perfectly. A good Telekinetic would be able to do that, I thought. Since I was a mid-range, I should be able to as well. What was wrong with me and my power?
Then I shook my head, laughing in the auditorium, a hand over my mouth as the sound reverberated off the walls. Of course I couldn’t hit all the targets; Telekinesis was my fake power. My secret one, not my real one. Though now, after five days at the facility, I rolled the word off my tongue. Telekinetic. It sure sounded much better than unknown, so much more welcoming. And they needed Telekinetics on the police and military forces – I would fit in well there to help them as a Telekinetic, to help the state.
My frown turned to a smile as I kept practicing, the sound of tennis balls hitting the painted targets with soft thumps akin to the ticking of a clock as the night grew deeper, and I lost more sleep. But this was more important than sleep – I knew I must become better.
SC, are you listening to me?
The voice sounded again, and I jolted out of my memory, my hands flat on my desk and my eyes on Arial, who sat next to me one desk over, her sentence a hushed whisper.
“What?” I asked, stirring, seeing that Linns had momentarily left the classroom. Behind us, several of the other students were socializing, particularly those who returned home each day after school, those who had been members of the academy before it was converted. The others stared off into space, some of them holding light conversation, and many with bags under their eyes as deep as mine.
“I was saying,” she said, her voice a hiss, “I’m switching schools next week. My admission papers to my new school were held up due to the sudden change of the academy, and they don’t want to take me in until the end of the quarter. But they’ll be going through by next Friday at the latest. Father was going to pull me out entirely, but I wanted to keep coming because I saw you arrive here. He only agreed because he wants to hear what goes on in the rehabilitation facility. I’m still angry with you, by the way.”
“Oh, I’m, I’m fine,” I answered, tracing the outline of a wood knot on my desk with my index finger. “Just haven’t been sleeping well. I’m sorry for tricking you, Arial. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“So that’s it, then?” she asked with narrowed eyes. “You know I don’t buy what you told Linns, and I don’t buy what you’re saying now. What goes on here at night when I go home?”
“Oh, just sleeping,” I answered and offered a grin to dissipate the inquiry.
“Riiiight,” she scoffed. “I’m going to find out, you know, before I leave. You make about as good a liar as a Telekinetic – mediocre. Besides, I have a bad feeling about this.” She lowered her voice and continued to speak, her eyes darting towards the door where Linns had left. “Like I said, my father let me stay because he wants to know what’s going on inside here. I think something is going to happen, SC. He said he wants me to keep an eye out for anything unusual. And he said he wants someone else to do it for me, when I’m gone. To help the police.”
“The police?” I asked, suddenly more alert and sitting up in my char. This could be an incredible way to start contributing to society, just as we were being trained to do. To accelerate my path to Upper.
“Yes, the police, dummy. You know they contract him out for his power. Anyways, I mentioned that you were here with me, and he said he’s sorry for the way he treated you at dinner. But he wants to know if you would help report back to him. To keep him informed! He says that while the rehabilitation facilities feed into the police system, since they’re owned by another branc
h of government, they have no insight.”
“Of course, I would be happy to!” I nearly exclaimed as Arial tilted her head. “Just let me know when I can start!”
“You sure?” she asked. “I thought you would be reluctant, after that dinner.”
“No, no,” I answered. “He was only doing his job, Arial. And I’d like to help with that. I was lying, after all.”
“If you say so,” she sighed and tapped her fingers on my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay, SC? You’re different. Even your voice sounds off.”
“Never been better,” I answered as Instructor Linns entered the room and I opened my textbook, the motion filled with purpose as he started writing on the board.
“I’m going to find out, you know,” Arial repeated in a low voice. “Just you wait. Is this really how you want me to remember you, SC, when I'm gone? The boy who never told the truth?”
I rolled my eyes and focused on the lesson. Halfway through, I dropped my pen, locking eyes with Lucio across the room as I bent to pick it up. Both his and Darian’s gaze focused on me, and Darian nudged Lucio just as a sudden memory flashed across my mind of Lucio speaking to me before class started.
“After class, we need to talk. Meet us as soon as you can, SC,” he had said.
To my annoyance, I remember having accepted. I was hoping to study in those moments, to make use of them, but if I already said yes to Lucio, I owed him a few minutes.
Chapter 28
Star Child: Places of Power Page 9