Thirteen Forgotten Worlds (Seam Wardens Book 1)

by Brant Williams

  I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before she gave up trying to impress anyone and just let us see her as she was. Keeping up appearances in such close proximity would be next to impossible.

  I looked around the room that less than twelve hours previously held a dimly-lit pseudo-city. That structure was now gone, and in its place was a brightly lit oval track that extended completely around the room. I had seen enough tracks in my running career to know it was a standard 400 meter track, or at least close enough not to make much of a difference.

  “Look alive,” Reid ordered. “You will start each morning with an invigorating run. There is no better way to build up your stamina and wake you up in the morning. This morning we'll start you off easy with only a five-mile run."

  I grinned as we started running. This was right up my alley. Five miles was practically a warm up for me. I had been training for this my entire life.

  And then another memory returned.

  I was standing in one of the weapons practice rooms with Spencer. I had just finished watching him complete one of the most advanced training programs in the simulator without missing a single shot. I was in awe. I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to be a Seam Warden more than anything I had ever wanted before. I wanted to save people. I wanted to make sure no other kids had to watch their parents die.

  But that was going to have to wait for over eight years. Eight years! That was so unfair! They wouldn’t even let me take a pair of Booms Sticks with me for practice while I was gone.

  “So, what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “How can I prepare for being a Seam Warden?”

  Spencer smiled and tousled my hair. “The best thing you can do to prepare is run. Run as often and as far as you can, every day if possible. The more you run, the better condition you will be in. Being in top cardiovascular condition is crucial to being a Seam Warden. I’m constantly chasing down monsters and running after criminals. Run. Run. Then, run some more. It will be difficult at first, but the more you do it, the easier it will be and the farther you will be able to run.”

  I slowed down and started falling behind as I processed through this newest memory. I remembered now. I remembered Spencer telling me how important it was to run. Tamara did, too. All the Seam Wardens I had asked advice from had told me to run.

  All the running I did. All the early mornings, all the races, all the long miles of practice were because of Seam Wardens' advice to prepare me for cadet training. I finally remembered the reason I ran.

  I grinned as the additional memories flooded me. I had even spoken with Reid Brewster, the same Reid who was leading our run now. I remembered him. I hadn’t known him well, but I remembered who he was and that I had spoken with him a few times.

  I started laughing and turned up the speed. I quickly passed everyone and ran up to the training master. It was an easy pace. I had to hold back to not pass him. I had to force myself to remember that this wasn’t a race and that running ahead of everyone would only make me look like I was showing off.

  Caleb and Gabriel were able to mostly keep up. It was clear that they had both done quite a bit of running before. However, Zachary, Kevin, and Logan really struggled. Zachary was so big and he had to move a lot more weight around, so it wasn’t surprising that he would have a hard time with distance running. But despite that, he pushed himself hard and managed to get through the run.

  Logan and Kevin, on the other hand, were gasping and wheezing by the end of the first mile and Logan had thrown up by the end of the second. They ended up walking most of the last couple of miles.

  Not surprisingly, Alexa was the best runner out of all the girls. It was clear she ran regularly. I spent quite a bit of the time running next to her as we both were easily able to keep the pace Reid was setting.

  Sierra was pretty good, but she slowed down to stay with Zachary and help keep him motivated. I smiled as I watched them. There seemed to be a bit of a blossoming romance there.

  Mariah and Kathryn managed to make it through the run without throwing up like Logan had, but neither of them was able to run very fast. We ended up lapping them several times during the run. I felt bad every time we lapped them, but I was simply keeping up with Reid and he dictated the pace.

  After the run, we cleaned up and ate breakfast. After we ate, we went back to the classroom where we started studying the identification and classification of the various creatures from the Seams. I had no idea there we so many of them or that they could be that hideous. Seriously, some of these things were straight out of a nightmare.

  We also started learning the cultures, customs, and habits of the sentient creatures the Seam Wardens knew about. Abby informed us that once we had those down, we would learn the laws and agreements we had with the various colonies. That didn’t sound terribly thrilling, but after seeing the Stoki with that girl in the Thai restaurant, I understood the importance of learning it.

  In addition to identifying and learning the culture of the various species, we also learned how to defend ourselves against those that were potentially hostile. They would teach us various holds, pressure points, and physical weaknesses as well as which weapons were most effective for capturing or killing.

  But before we learned species-specific techniques, we first had to learn general principles of self-defense. That was accomplished through a combination of unarmed martial arts skills and training with the Boom Sticks.

  While I may have been top of the class in the running and cardiovascular fitness category, I was nowhere near the top of the class in the unarmed martial arts. I’m a pretty big guy and can hit hard, but I had no training.

  And it showed.

  I was paired with Zachary since I was the closest one to his size. He spent the entire class twisting my body into shapes it was never intended to be in. He already knew every choke hold, arm lock, and striking technique that the training masters presented. In fact, his knowledge of Brazilian Jiu-jitsu was ever better than Reid’s.

  I was only too glad to be done when it came time to switch to training with the Boom Sticks. This was something I had been looking forward to.

  Reid and Abby set up a target range in the large training room. Ten stations were spread out around the room, enough for one for each of us.

  Reid held up a pair of Boom Sticks. “We are now going to train you on the primary weapon of a Seam Warden, electro-kinetic compression rods, more commonly known as Boom Sticks.”

  Reid tossed them up in the air and caught them one-handed without even looking. “These two sticks are going to become your best friends. Once you have been trained and certified in their use, you will be expected to keep them with you at all times. Your uniforms have slots in your sleeves where they can be stored transdimensionally so they will be out of the way, yet available when needed.” He shoved each of the sticks into small holes in the sleeves of his black shirt, then held up his hands showing they were empty. He then flicked his arms downward and the sticks slid out smoothly into his hands, ready for use.

  That was so cool! I hadn’t seen Spencer do that and didn’t have any memory of that from my time here before. I had to resist the urge to grab a pair from one of the practice stations and try it myself.

  “You can use them in two ways, depending upon the needs of the situation – a disruptor strike, or a concussion wave. I’m going to start with the disruptor strike.

  "In close quarters combat, you can strike your opponent with the sticks and deliver an electromagnetic pulse that can disrupt most creatures' nervous systems, rendering them unconscious, immobile, or at the very least reduce their coordination. We call this a disruptor strike."

  Reid spun around and used the sticks to strike a practice dummy – a human-shaped torso that was attached to a cylindrical plastic base. We had used them earlier for striking practice during unarmed combat training. When the sticks connected with the dummy, blue ribbons of energy erupted from the stick and encircled the target.

  When Reid pulled the sticks aw
ay, the energy dissipated. I did notice, however, that the sticks left tiny black marks on the dummy where they made direct contact with its surface.

  “While it can be extremely painful, a disruptor strike is non-lethal and self-adjusts in intensity depending upon the target. You will learn more about this functionality of the Boom Sticks as you progress in your combat training courses. For now, we are going to focus on the concussion wave. This method is designed for distance attacks and allows you to strike at your opponent from a safe distance.”

  Reid faced a target and slammed the sticks together, forming an X. A loud crack split the air, and the target burst into shards. “Hitting the sticks together generates a compression wave that travels through the air and hits with concussive force. You can vary the intensity of the compression wave from hard enough to knock someone to the floor, to hard enough to put a hole through them.” He dropped his hands to the side and looked at each of us one by one. “You have to understand that these are not toys. They are deadly weapons and should be treated with that level of respect. Understood?”

  We all nodded soberly in agreement. Even Logan seemed to take the Boom Stick safety talk seriously.

  For the next several hours, Reid and Abby talked us through the basics of using the Boom Sticks. They showed us how to create wide but relatively harmless waves that could knock back a large group of attackers, how to create a powerful and targeted wave that could blast through a wall or disable a creature.

  “You want to select a hand that will be your aiming hand,” Reid told us. “Hold that stick steady and strike it with the other stick. Trying to hit them both together at the same time greatly reduces your accuracy.”

  The angle we hit the sticks together determined how wide of a wave we generated – within limits. The widest strike on high intensity maxed out at only ten degrees wide, while a wide strike at low intensity could be up to 140 degrees in width.

  The intensity also controlled how far the wave traveled. A low-intensity wave could travel up to one hundred feet and still have enough power to knock down a person. A higher power and more focused wave could travel up to a quarter mile and still be felt.

  Somehow, I already knew all of this. I had a vague recollection of learning this somewhere before, but couldn’t remember the specifics.

  After we had learned the basics, Reid and Abby placed each of us at a practice station, and we had to listen to and follow their directions about what kind of strike to do. If we hit the target with the right kind of strike, it lit up and gave us a point. If we didn't follow directions, it made a loud buzzing sound – like we got the wrong answer on a game show.

  At first, I got quite a few of them wrong. I had a difficult time adjusting the intensity of my strikes. I could aim and hit the target no problem, but I lacked the subtle control that a Seam Warden needed to have in order to effectively use the Boom Sticks.

  Toward the end I was getting better, but none of us, even Alexa, had the type of control that Reid was demanding. By the time practice was over, we were all frustrated and feeling defeated.

  Reid and Abby pulled us back into a group before dismissing us.

  “I know some of you came in here thinking you knew everything there was to know about the Boom Sticks,” Abby said. “Keep in mind that while the basics of the sticks are fairly easy, refined control and mastery will take the entirety of your Cadet training, as well as your first several years as a Seam Warden. No one picks this up overnight, so don’t get down on yourselves. Believe me, you will have plenty of time to practice and get better.”

  Reid nodded in agreement. “Give it time,” he said. “You will all pick it up. It just takes time. Now, go hit the showers. You all stink. Practice dismissed.”

  8

  Scared Out of My Second Skin

  We spent the next several weeks running, practicing with the Boom Sticks, learning unarmed combat, and going to classes.

  And homework.

  And more running.

  And… you get the idea.

  Every morning, the training masters woke us up at 05:30 to start the day with a run. As we got into better shape, the runs gradually became longer and longer. Typically, we ran on the track in the cadet training facility, but at other times, Abby and Reid took us on runs through Seam Warden headquarters. On those occasions, we had to run in single file, but it made for a nice change of pace to get out of the cadet wing and see the rest of the headquarters.

  I did notice myself getting better in the unarmed combat training as time went on. I didn’t always get paired with Zach, and when I was able to train with Gabriel and Caleb – both of whom had roughly the same amount of experience as I did – I discovered that I actually had a bit of an aptitude for grappling and striking.

  We spent hours upon hours at the practice range with the Boom Sticks working to get the kind of control Reid and Abby expected from us – wide shots, focused blasts, and target practice that required pinpoint accuracy not to hit objects that were not the target. At this point in our training, they were more interested in control and accuracy than speed of attack.

  We also added in training on disruptor strikes, the Boom Sticks’ other capability. We learned where to strike on the various species for maximum effect, and spent a considerable amount of time learning how to use the strikes to disarm and neutralize an opponent without causing lasting damage.

  And every night there was homework: reading, memorizing, and problem-solving. We had to memorize the thirteen forgotten worlds, their known inhabitants, and any relevant facts about the world.

  We also learned as much as we could about each of the major races from the Seams. We had to be able to identify them by sight – and sometimes even smell – as well as recognize their tracks or any common signs of their presence in our world. We also learned which creatures could communicate, which ones would kill us on sight, and any legal treaties or accords they were bound by.

  All of which didn’t leave time for anything else.

  Unless you just didn’t care about learning – which seemed to be the case with Logan and Kevin. Logan never bothered to study and spent all his free time playing his guitar and writing songs. It became increasingly obvious he was trying to get expelled so he could leave and pursue his dream of being a rock star. I didn’t understand why he didn’t just quit rather than go through this charade and waste his own and everyone else’s time.

  Kevin, however, didn't even bother to do something semi-productive. He mostly sat in the common area and watched TV. He liked sports but spent a lot of time watching celebrity gossip shows as well. He knew all the popular celebrities and the latest gossip about their personal lives. He also had a habit of yelling at the TV as if the people there could hear him and should respond.

  “Seriously?” he yelled one evening shortly before I had planned on going to bed. “Again? Brooklyn Stone, you are messed up!”

  I froze when I heard the name – Brooklyn Stone.

  Amy.

  I hadn’t seen my ex-girlfriend in person since I was a sophomore in High School, and I had deliberately not watched any of the shows she was in. But she had become such an icon of pop culture that it was impossible to completely avoid exposure to her.

  It hurt every time I saw her.

  But not for the reasons you may think.

  At first, I was happy for her. Yes, it took me a while to get over our breakup. But I did. It wasn't the breakup that made seeing her hurt. It was seeing the changes in her from the girl I used to know.

  Amy had always been beautiful. Stunning even. But that wasn’t good enough once she got to Hollywood. Anything different or unique about her was considered a flaw. The first thing to change was the teeth. She had perfectly fine teeth before, but now they were like tiny, white pearls that were perfectly straight and looked totally fake. Next, came the nose. As far as noses went, it had been beautiful. Now, it was trimmed down and looked identical to all the other noses on the latest generation of Hollywood starlets.
>
  Seriously. They were completely interchangeable. It was as if they all went to the same plastic surgeon who made his living stamping out the same nose in some mass production line.

  After that came the inevitable breast implants, lip and cheek plumping, and all sorts of other needless surgeries that left her looking like every other actress. Even the skin under her eyes had been nipped and tucked so when she smiled her eyes didn’t squint as much.

  Add in contacts to make her eyes look a deeper shade of blue, and the only thing remotely distinct about her was her red hair. Even that had been dyed to make it more auburn than the strawberry blond it had been before.

  I hardly recognized her anymore.

  I turned my attention to the television Kevin was watching. The headline read: Brooklyn Does It Again. Apparently, she had gotten into a fight in a bar for the second time in the past month. The focus of the story seemed to be more about the fight than the fact that she was underage and shouldn’t have been allowed into the bar in the first place.

  And why should it? Everyone knew that with enough money and hangers-on these superstars could get just about anything they wanted. Legality is for mere mortals, not for A-listers.

  The camera showed her wearing a trashy, black dress that looked more like lingerie than something a person should wear in public. She was in handcuffs and being placed into a police car. I noticed that she had gotten a tattoo on her right forearm. It was some strange, geometric design I didn't recognize. It almost looked like a fractal pattern.

  That surprised me. Amy had always hated tattoos and vowed she would never get one. Seeing that tattoo felt as if the last remnant of who she had been had finally faded away into nothingness. Amy Smith was completely gone and had been replaced by Brooklyn Stone.

  I turned away from the television and closed the door to my room.

  A few days later, a group of seven Seam Wardens came in while we were practicing with our Boom Sticks. We all stopped to stare, but that didn’t last long.