“Yes, sir!” we reply.
“Good,” Ridders says. “Lights out, cadets.” He crosses to the door and presses the control panel, leaving the room lit only by floor runners. “Wake-up call is at six hundred hours. Stay in your bunk. Leaving the dormitory at night is against the rules.”
When Ridders leaves, everyone slumps. Some of the cadets—mostly Regis’s crew—complain about the rules. Others are annoyed Ridders pulled rank. And from what it looks like, a lot of kids are just plain anxious—pacing, mumbling, rocking, whimpering, all of the above. Me? I’m just relieved I don’t have to fight Regis and make a fool out of myself in front of the entire dorm.
After climbing up to my bunk, I pull out my clarinet case. The supple leather gives beneath my fingers. I pop the clasp and fit the pieces together. As I grip the black-and-silver instrument in my hands, I recall each detail of last night. The whisper of Addy’s movements in the dark. The sad melody that slipped from the strings of her violin.
There’s still some chatter in the dorm, especially in the back where Marco and Regis set up camp, but most of the kids are silent except for the rustling of sheets and swish of blankets. I put my clarinet away and shove the case in the crack between the mattress and the bed frame.
It’s cool in the dormitory. And even though I’m surrounded by dozens of boys—dozens of Bounder boys like me—I feel completely alone.
“Cole,” I whisper into the darkness, willing my voice not to crack.
“Yeah?” he replies.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Jasper.”
Maybe I’m imagining things, but I think he sounds grateful. I close my eyes and drift to sleep.
The next morning brings a true taste of life in the Force. Lieutenant Ridders shows up at six a.m. He’s nice enough, but he has five other officers with him. Each is meaner than the next. They shout at us to get out of bed, and drag out the cadets who aren’t fast enough. Anything we forgot to stow away—shoes, hats, even one cadet’s framed picture of his pet hamster—they kick across the dorm floor. They bark orders to get into daily uniform.
I’m not even sure which clothes make up the daily. I dig into the duffel filled with Academy gear Mom packed. Earth Force shipped the stuff direct to us a few months back. Predictably, Cole knows exactly what to wear. I copy him as best I can, and once he’s dressed, he rummages through my storage bin and pulls out the rest of what I need.
“How were we supposed to know?” I say. “I figured daily uniform was what we wore yesterday.”
“No,” Cole says. “Those were dress formals.”
“It would have been nice to get a little direction. I mean, we’re just kids.”
An officer with black hair and bad breath steps close. “You got something to say, plebe?”
“No.” What on earth is his problem?
“No, what?” the officer says.
“Uhhh . . . I don’t get it,” I say. “Just no.”
The officer bends down and yells in my face. “No, sir!”
I try not to turn away as his bad breath rolls over me. “Got it,” I say. “Sir. I mean, no, sir.” I hold my breath, hoping that’s enough to get him off my back.
The officer stretches up to his full height. He looms over Cole and me, and he’s thick. “That’s more like it, plebe. Don’t step out of line. I’ll be watching.” He shoves my shoulder, knocking me straight into my storage bin.
He lingers for a moment, a sick grin on his face, and then moves on to the next rack to harass some other cadets.
I scamper out of the bin and struggle to catch my breath. Pull it together, Jasper. Don’t let that bully scare you. That’s all he is. A bully. After all, what could that clown do? You’re the Bounder, not him.
Cole tugs my sleeve. The cadets are lining up. The officers position us by the door and march us out.
“He’s probably just jealous,” Cole says.
“Who?” I ask.
“The officer with the bad breath.”
Yeah, right. “Why on Earth would he be jealous of me?”
“Did you see his rank?” Cole asks. “He’s an auxiliary officer. That means he was skipped over for quantum aeronaut.”
Hmmm . . . he couldn’t even make the cut? I smile. Cole with all the knowledge. He’s definitely a good first friend. “Yeah, he’s probably annoyed he has to chaperone a bunch of Bounders.”
Ridders leads us out of the dormitory and into the long narrow corridor. Something about the dorm felt a bit more homey—probably just because my stuff was there—but the hall is like a slap to the face. Wake up, Jasper, you’re not in Americana anymore. My dull headache returns the second I step under the bright lights, and the walls close in around me. The only thing that breaks the monochromatic sameness of the spearmint walls is the occasional door with its brushed metal handle and a flashing keypad mounted alongside.
And the place still stinks. Did they forget to circulate the air in here?
We follow Ridders, all dressed in our dailies, in a single-file line down the center stripe. If you ignored our out-of-sync steps and our short stature, you might actually think we were Earth Force officers.
Wait a second—we are Earth Force officers. Geez, that is awesome. Mind-blowingly awesome.
“What do you think the sensor is for?” Ryan asks as he places his foot on the platinum stripe.
“Definitely some kind of automated transport device,” Cole says.
“Oh!” I say. “It’s for these mini Spider Crawlers. They look like plain black boxes when they’re zipping along the sensor, but then they have these long spiky limbs for walking just like the big Crawlers.”
“How do you know that?” Cole asks.
Uh-oh. The only reason I know about the robots is because of my escapade with Marco. The last thing I want to think about right now is that mystery alien, and I’m definitely not ready to tell Cole. I shrug. “I must have read it somewhere.”
Cole frowns. I worry he’s going to interrogate me, but I’m saved by our arrival at the mess hall.
The hall is filled with a couple dozen circular tables, all a funky orange color. The walls are the same dull green, but the orange brightens the place up. There are even portholes along the wall where you can look out into space.
When we walk in, our formation falls apart. The girls are already here, and there’s a lot of chatter. If I close my eyes, I can almost believe I’m in the school cafeteria back home.
Most of the boys beeline for the food. I’m hungry, but I can’t shake the horrid smell of stale hot dogs. It kills my appetite.
Lucy rushes over and steers me to a table in the back. Cole follows. She frowns at him, but she doesn’t shoo him away.
“Guess what I found out,” she says.
I raise my eyebrows. She’s going to tell me no matter what I say.
Sure enough, she keeps right on talking. “After breakfast they’re announcing the pods.”
“Really?” Cole says. “Have you learned any more about how they assess compatibility?”
She shakes her heard. “No. Total silence on that front. But Florine says they’re not going to finalize assignments until this morning.”
Hmmm. What are they waiting for? What grand insight into our character did they expect to get in less than twenty-four hours?
At the next table, Ryan and some other cadets inhale plates of something yellow and spongy that might be scrambled eggs. As I watch them, I try to make sense of what Lucy said.
“Well?” Lucy asks. She must have kept talking. I zoned out.
“Sorry. Ask me again.” I fix my eyes on Lucy. She’s changed her hair. Her ribbons match the daily uniform—indigo and orange. Like the tables.
“How was your night?” she asks.
“Fine,” I say. Cole embellishes my answer with a technical description of the racks and storage areas and the morning wake-up committee.
“That sounds just like the girls’ dorm,” Lucy says. “But you guys didn�
�t have the late-night excitement we did.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I bet you could guess. Oh, don’t bother. I’ll tell you. Dancing Queen decided to take a stroll in the middle of the night and set off all kinds of alarms. Let’s just say, no one could have slept through it.”
“Mira?” I ask.
Lucy nods. I follow her gaze across the mess hall. Mira sits alone by a porthole, her hand pressed against the glass. Her shirt is untucked, and some of her hair has pulled loose from her braid.
“Wait a minute,” Cole says. “The dorm doors are linked to an alarm?”
“To put it mildly,” Lucy says. “It was like a five-alarm fire when Mira wandered off. Before we knew it, a dozen armed officers showed up. They checked each bed, taking a head count.”
“I don’t understand,” Cole says. “Why would they need that kind of security?”
Lucy shrugs. “Let’s eat.”
As I follow Lucy and Cole to the chow line, I’m struck by the memory of what Marco and I saw in the med room. I have no clue why they need so much security either, but I can’t shake the feeling it has something to do with the alien.
6
ONCE WE GET OUR FOOD, LUCY ditches us for a table with a group of girls. Cole and I set our trays down next to Ryan and some other guys who have bunks near us in the dorm. They seem all right, although one guy constantly interrupts, and another can’t seem to get off the topic of astroharvesting as the future of agriculture. A thrilling topic for absolutely no one.
I shovel an enormous bite of scrambled eggs into my mouth.
“Blahhh!” I spit the eggs back onto the tray. “What is that nastiness?”
“Fluffed tofu,” Ryan says. “They ship it here freeze-dried and then pump it with hot air in the kitchens. I kind of like it.” His mouth is overflowing with the stuff as he talks.
“Take mine if you want it.” I push my plate away and nibble on some fruit sticks I grabbed in line. Maybe lunch will be better.
I talk to the other cadets and try to ignore my grumbling stomach. Two guys at our table are from Americana West. One of the guys is from Eurasia. And another is from Australia. I guess there really are Bounders everywhere.
The Westie next to me keeps checking his watch.
“You gotta be somewhere?” I ask.
“What?” he says.
“You keep looking at your watch. What gives?”
He shrugs. “It’s time for lunch. On Earth, I mean. After lunch on Saturdays, I watch Stellar Rangers. Always. I know I have to miss it, but it sucks.”
“Yeah.” What else can I say? I’m not upset about lunch and web shows, but this is all pretty overwhelming.
“I’ll get used to it,” he says. “The new schedule, I mean.”
As we finish eating, Florine Statton enters the mess hall, flanked by Earth Force officers. One of the officers I’ve never seen before, but the other one is the guy with the bad breath who knocked me down this morning. Florine wears black sunglasses and a black business suit that look identical to the sunglasses and suit she wore yesterday.
Giggles erupt at Lucy’s table, and the energy in the room swells. Heads swivel to the rear entrance where a group of Earth Force officers is filling in.
Cole bumps me on the shoulder. “Those are the quantum aeronauts.”
I can barely believe it. We’re in the same room with the actual aeronauts. There’s Edgar Han. And Malaina Suarez. It’s like watching EFAN, but it’s happening right in front of us. Soon a whole line of aeronauts stretches across the back of the mess hall. They’re young and lean and fierce-looking. Well, except for the older guy at the end who isn’t wearing a uniform. I recognize him from last night. He’s the man who calmed Mira down.
Another officer strides in alone. Sharp intakes of breath ripple through the mess hall. A girl at the next table says, “Ohmygoodness-ohmygoodness-ohmygoodess.”
Please. Spare me. Maximilian Sheek has arrived, fashionably late, of course. His hair is even higher in person. Lucy whispers to the girls at her table, and they all burst out laughing.
“Good morning, Bounders,” Florine says. For the first time in maybe ever, she actually sounds enthused. She continues talking in an odd, lilting voice as she hurries across the mess hall. “It is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you the true stars of Earth Force, starting with this gentleman right here, Maximilian Sheek.” She grabs Sheek’s hand and drags him back through the crowd of Bounder-filled tables to the front of the mess hall.
Screams and applause echo through the room. Even Florine squeals. Maybe that’s why she bonded with Lucy. They both shriek for Sheek.
“It is very exciting, I know,” Florine says. “Our aeronauts are the true face of Earth Force.” She beams at Sheek. “I mean, will you look at that face?”
More shrieks. I catch Marco’s eyes across the room. He shakes his head in disgust.
“Okay, now breathe,” Florine says. “Let’s review, Bounders. Your Earth Force tour of duty lasts six weeks. It will end with a field trip to the Paleo Planet. We expect you to be great ambassadors for our tourism program starting this summer. And of course, you’ll need to be on your best behavior, because EFAN might just be filming during the field trip.”
More squeals. Lots of clapping. My head is going to explode.
“Pay attention, puh-leeeze,” Florine continues. “Here at the EarthBound Academy, some of your classes will be full-attendance lectures, others will be in small groups, and—you’ve probably heard this already—some of your learning will be in pods.” She raises Sheek’s hand in the air and shakes it. “Yes, that’s right! You’ll be assigned a pod just like the real quantum aeronauts!”
Florine keeps talking, but I only half listen. She describes the teaching format. Every day we’ll have a full Academy lecture taught by one of the quantum aeronauts or a special guest. Ridders is teaching a Technology class. Malaina Suarez is teaching Subsistence. All the bounding instruction will take place in pods.
I scan the aeronauts at the back of the mess hall. Which one will lead my pod?
One thing that really stinks is that Bad Breath, whose name we learn is Chief Auxiliary Officer Wade Johnson, is teaching Mobility. At least it’s only one class. And it doesn’t sound like a very important one. I mean, how much can we possibly need to learn about being mobile?
“Later this week I’ll give you details about the pod competition. . . .” Florine says.
Competition? Now that will be interesting.
“But let’s not waste another minute. Pod assignments!”
The cadets clap. Lucy winks at me and raises her hand to show her crossed fingers. I don’t want anyone to see, so I cross my fingers under the table.
“This is how we’ll proceed,” Florine says. “I’ll introduce these fine aeronauts”—pause to flash her toothy smile at Sheek—“and then they’ll read off which five of you have been assigned to his or her pod. There will be twenty-six pods in total, twenty-five led by aeronauts and one led by a . . . civilian.” She spits out the word civilian like it tastes bad. “Once you’re called, you can leave with your instructor to go find your special pod room. First up, Captain Malaina Suarez.”
Yet more clapping as Malaina Suarez, the officer we met last night at the chutes, steps next to Florine. Her dark brown hair is cut short, and she looks like she could pummel Florine—or any of us—at a whim.
“Captain Suarez is our newest aeronaut,” Florine reads from a tablet. “She hails from the mountain region in Amazonas. She received several advanced degrees from the Combined Ivies University in Americana East before being directly recruited into the Earth Force quantum aeronaut officer training protocol. In the fall, she’ll be featured in her first prime-time EFAN documentary, which will focus on her research into off-planet food production. . . .”
Suarez places her hand on Florine’s forearm. “I’m sure that’s enough on the bio. They’ll learn plenty about off-planet food production in my Subsistence c
lass.”
“Very well,” Florine says, clearly irked by the interruption. “Read the names for your pod.”
“Okay. If I call your name, follow me.” Malaina reads off five names, and the cadets jump up and exit the mess hall with her.
Florine clears her throat. “Attention, puh-leeeze. Next we have Captain Edgar Han, a real Renaissance man. He’s fresh back from a personal sabbatical at Oxford in his home region of Eurasia, where he spent a year studying classic photography. Perhaps some of you caught my exclusive interview about his return to Earth Force.”
I clap along as Han crosses to the front of the mess hall. He seems cool, and his photography is pretty great. I’m really hoping he calls my name.
When Han reads off the cadets in his pod, Regis and two of the guys from the back bunks join some girls from Lucy’s table at the front. They leave the mess hall as a group.
Well, that stinks.
Florine introduces a few more aeronauts, who read through their pod lists. The Stellar Rangers guy shuffles out along with another cadet at my table.
“Here’s a name you all know,” Florine says. “Captain Maximilian Sheek!” Screams again. Lucy’s lips are moving. I can’t be sure, but I think she’s mouthing please, please, please.
“Quiet down, now,” Sheek says. “Why don’t we let Miss Statton do her job?” When he throws a dazzling smile back at Florine, she fans her face.
“What can I tell you that you don’t already know about this true Earth hero?” Florine says. “After a childhood in front of the spotlight as a web actor, Sheek left Americana West and studied opera at the renowned Metropolitan Institute of the Arts in Americana East. There, he showed extraordinary prowess for the unique intellectual and physical demands of the quantum bounding protocol and was hand-selected by Admiral Eames and other senior leaders to represent our great planet in Earth Force.”
“Florine, you flatter me. . . .”
“Truth is not flattery.” Florine slides her pink-nailed hand around Sheek’s waist. “Despite his unmatched success in Earth Force, he’s kept his finger on the pulse of style and trend. I’m sure you all watch his weekly EFAN show, Chic with Sheek. Am I right?”
Bounders Page 6