by V. St. Clair
She presented the wrist with her ID-chip in it. They scanned it and began flipping through the readout on their hand-held screen.
“Risa Victoria Vorhees. Age twenty-one. Physman. Your specialty is translocation?”
“That’s right,” she confirmed.
The Provo flipped screens again. “Your photographs since the age of thirteen match your current appearance: carrot-red hair, blue eyes, light skin.”
“Yes?” She wasn’t sure what they were getting at, or why they were looking through the annual photograph log tied to her ID-chip, or why they insisted on pointing out her hair was carrot-colored instead of just saying ‘red’. Were they trying to find someone who had changed their appearance recently?
“Stand still,” they informed her. “I am going to touch you.”
Risa went rigid at that, not knowing what to expect, but they ultimately only touched her hair, examining it closely.
“No evidence of recent coloring,” one of them said to the other. They’re looking for hair dye? “You may go. Proceed to your first lesson as usual and do not attempt to leave the Academy for any reason until further notice.”
And just like that, Risa was free of them, stepping through the doors and into the sunlight.
If she thought things would be less tense once she made it out of the dormitory, she was wrong. There were Provo-Minor everywhere, standing at the entrances to the classroom buildings, walking the roads and paths around the Academy in pairs, and blocking exits.
What in the world has happened to bring so many Provo down on us?
She almost jumped out of her skin when someone called her name.
“I didn’t do it!” she said as she whirled around.
But it wasn’t a member of the Provo-Minor facing her now. It was Carl.
“Carl!” she threw her arms around him, overjoyed at seeing him alive and well after she had feared the worst. Her relief was so immense, she didn’t even care about the effusive display of emotion.
“Whoa, Risa,” he patted her lightly on the back and then stepped away. “If I knew it would be this easy to win you over, I would have hidden out in my room for a couple of days long before this until you missed me.”
Risa was even glad for the return of his ceaseless joking, though she did find it odd how quickly he ended their embrace—one of the few they had ever shared.
Maybe he doesn’t actually like me…the little voice of doubt whispered quietly to her. He probably just gets a kick out of teasing me.
Though Risa told Ana only days ago she had no intention of getting too attached to anyone after her last horrific experience with love, the part of her that liked Carl and wanted him to like her back couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
“Where have you been?” she changed the subject, looking at him more closely. She didn’t see any obvious signs of injury, though he seemed a little tired.
Carl raised his eyebrows and said, “I was being interviewed—at length—by the Provo-Minor about my Gift. They wanted to know if I would be interested in working for the military as an officer of the ground troops.”
He said this like it was no big deal, but Risa could tell he probably reacted much more strongly upon first hearing the offer.
“They—they what?” She wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “They would give someone Gifted control of their ground forces?” As far as she knew, the only role the Gifted generally had in the Viceroy’s government were as spies against their own people, or occasionally as assassins, depending on their skillset.
“Well, it’s just a company of them,” he clarified. “It’s apparently part of the Viceroy’s plan to de-escalate tensions between our people by slowly integrating us into certain levels of his government. He seems to be keen on expediting the integration these days.”
Risa had to hand it to the man, it was a bold move. The Great War ended over a century ago, but it was still recent enough that the relationship between the Gifted and the government hadn’t done much healing since then.
“The Provo must hate the idea of bringing the enemy into their own military, especially in a position of power, limited though it is.”
Carl shrugged. “I imagine they’re not too pleased about it, but they exist to support the Viceroy, and the Viceroy seems determined to try at integration.”
Risa frowned and said, “It’s hard to believe this isn’t a trick of some sort. Maybe he just wants to offer you the chance so if you turn traitor on him it justifies the slaughter of our people afterwards.”
“Thanks for that ringing vote of confidence in me,” Carl said with a hint of his usual humor.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t. The thought occurred to me as well. I had plenty of time alone to think about things in between interviews.”
It occurred to Risa she hadn’t yet asked the most important question of all.
“Did you accept their offer?” The idea seemed ludicrous. Someone who was part of Hera’s resistance movement could hardly take up a position in the government it was trying to overthrow.
Though, Risa thought, that would put him in an excellent position to gather intel the resistance badly needs.
But Carl would be watched constantly in his new position by those waiting to catch him doing anything suspicious. It would be very dangerous, and that was making the very large assumption Carl could fool whatever—doubtlessly thorough—chemical interrogation they did of him before hiring him officially. There was no way to lie through a drug like Veritan.
“I told them I would consider it,” he responded, looking away from her and staring off into space.
Before Risa could ask him any of the things she’d just been thinking about, or warn him of any of the dangers of becoming a spy in enemy territory, Carl added, “Fortunately, some other crisis prevented them from insisting on a more immediate answer.”
He gestured vaguely at the abundance of Provo in the Academy.
“I don’t suppose you know what’s going on?”
“No idea. I thought they were going to hold me on the second floor until they got an answer out of me, but a Minor came in at the crack of dawn and told me I was being released because something else came up requiring their immediate attention. I don’t doubt they’ll circle back around to me eventually though.”
Risa frowned, still wondering at Carl’s unusual responses. He was less animated than usual, more flat, and he kept staring off into space rather than meeting her eyes. Even when they did make eye contact, he seemed to be looking through her rather than at her. She wondered if it was simply fatigue, or if there was something more to the story he wasn’t telling her. Why was he acting so strangely?
“Well, I should try to find Ana today, so I can tell her to call off the search for you. We were worried sick when the Provo came and got you overnight,” she admitted.
Carl glanced at her briefly, and for a moment he truly seemed to see her, but then that aloof, dispassionate expression was back on his face.
“I need to get to class. Today seems to be a bad day to get on the wrong side of the Minors. I suggest you do the same.”
Risa nodded, still unnerved by his odd behavior. He was right about getting to class though; Risa would have to hurry or she would be late.
There were more Provo-Minor waiting at the entrance to Physman, but after enduring another similar round of questions about her appearance and a cursory inspection, she was allowed inside. Her first class was Advanced Materials, since she was working towards a career in science, but the instructor was as unfocused as she had ever seen him today. He made no reference to the presence of the Provo-Minor at the Academy or the lockdown, and no one dared raise their hands to ask.
It seemed like the Provo were going to stick around all day, because they were still outside when Risa left Advanced Materials and went to her Fluid Dynamics class. Though no one was talking openly about why they were here, rumors were beginning to be whispered between h
er classmates about what was going on.
Given the sensational nature of the gossip, she didn’t know whether to believe any of it, because it seemed unlikely that someone from the Academy had tried to assassinate the Viceroy last night; it would be nearly impossible for one of them to even get close to the man, unless he was just wandering through the Academy on his own, unguarded.
It also seemed far-fetched that a Provo-Major had been killed in downtown Silveria, or that Hera had been captured at last and had given up all of her contacts within the Academy.
Risa knew the last one couldn’t be true or they would already have her in custody, but it still made her uneasy to hear all the speculation about it. She called Ana on her communicator in between lessons, but her friend didn’t answer.
Don’t panic, Risa…she chided herself firmly. Ana is probably trying to avoid scrutiny as well, or she got held behind after class, or she’s waiting in line to pass the Provo somewhere…
There was probably a perfectly good explanation for why her friend wasn’t answering the communicator right now, with everything going on. Still, as time ticked on and she didn’t receive a return call, Risa became more and more nervous.
10
Ana Crumb
Ana was not at all surprised by the flood of military officials in the Academy that day, though she tried to act as shocked and concerned as everyone else. The concern was easy enough to feign, since she had a pretty good idea the Provo-Minor were here searching for her and Maxton.
Max had the good sense to stay away from the Academy, opting to take a room in one of Hera’s safe houses in the city instead of returning to certain death. The Provo-Major already had all the information they needed on him to ensure he would never be safe again unless he went into hiding; the only thing keeping Ana safe right now was them not knowing much about her.
There was only one thing still giving her pause, and there was no real way to hide it: her emblem. The necklace she wore was fairly distinctive, and had been in plain view during their skirmish last night. Since it was illegal for her to hide her emblem at the Academy and would call more attention to her than wearing it did, her only wild hope was that Fox was too inebriated and unfocused to remember her emblem.
She had spent the entire night internally debating whether her return to the Academy was the right thing to do. If she stayed away and missed curfew, it would have immediately triggered an investigation by the Provo-Minor into her whereabouts, and she would never be able to return to the Academy again without them dragging her off to the Augenspire for a lengthy interrogation about where she had been.
She was reconsidering the wisdom of her decision as she approached the Anomalies building, because there were more Provo here than anywhere else she had been.
Fox thinks I’m a psychic. He must have told the others by now, which means I’d either have to be in Anomalies or Illucept.
For the hundredth time she cursed herself mentally for that hideous slipup the night before. Of all the times to accidentally see too far into someone’s mind and reveal her true power, it had to be the first time she encountered a Provo-Major.
She was allowed into the building without being stopped by any of the Minors amassed outside it, which she thought was odd until she was told all Anomalies students were meeting in the conference hall. It was the one room in the entire building large enough to comfortably hold all members of Anomalies.
I guess the Minors are going to address us collectively.
She felt her communicator buzz and glanced down to see Risa’s name and face on the display. She was too high-strung to answer right now, so she let it go to voicemail; she needed to be completely focused on not getting discovered by the Provo until she was safe.
The conference hall was built like a large classroom, with theater-style seating sloping upwards towards the back of the hall. It was brightly lit, and a few Anomalies instructors were guiding everyone towards the first few rows, closest to the speaking platform, so there was no hope of hiding in the back and trying to go unnoticed.
It took Ana a minute to realize she only saw about half of the population of the Anomalies building here, and a heartbeat longer to realize there wasn’t a man in the room aside from the instructors who were guiding them.
Of course. They know Maxton is in hiding, so the only one they’re looking for here is me.
She took a seat in the third row, refusing to betray her fear as she set her bag down between her legs on the floor. She tried to feel flattered. They certainly weren’t underestimating her abilities.
On the downside, they probably have orders to kill me on sight if they think I’m a psychic who can pull government secrets out of their heads at will.
The last few girls were filing into the room now, so it wouldn’t be long until the Minors came in to address them. It was hard to believe all of this fanfare was just to find her, though she had stolen Fox’s entire Talent ring. Maybe some other big crisis had come up last night, and this had nothing to do with her at all?
Sure, Ana. They’re probably searching for a different girl who dyed her hair recently and has strange powers…
She almost laughed hysterically at the foolish notion, struggling to keep control of herself.
Calm down, everything will be okay.
Maybe she could mail Fox’s Talent-ring back to him anonymously with a note of apology and they would be willing to drop the manhunt.
Sure, and if you believe that, I’ve got some lovely land to sell you along the Silver River…
If there was one thing the Provo were good at, it was holding grudges against the Gifted. The only thing going for her right now was that none of the Provo-Minor had been there during the fight with Fox, and she knew there were no cameras in the women’s restroom at Club Roxx, which meant they had nothing but a description of her to go off of, and their description was of a blond psychic in a black vinyl jacket, as given by a man who was high on drugs and just got his ass kicked. As long as she kept calm and avoided connecting too deeply with anyone’s eyes, she would be fine.
On the heels of this comforting thought came the sound of the door closing loudly. Ana—and most of the others—turned their heads in time to see three Provo-Major standing at the back of the room.
There were more than a few gasps of surprise at the unexpected visitors, not the least of which because all three of them were wearing their full battle armor, not the light armor they normally wore. Two of the Majors began walking down the aisle to the front of the room, while the other remained standing beside the door at the back. Even in their battle armor, their heads and necks were uncovered, so she could see all three of their faces quite clearly. With a thrill of terror, Ana recognized one of the two coming towards her as Major Fox Augen.
Her throat constricted as the two walked heavily towards the waiting group, the polished black metal boots thudding loudly against the floor. The noise echoed around the conference hall, disproportionately loud for the size of their armor, which made Ana think it was either much heavier than it looked, or else it was made to be deliberately loud and intimidating.
The plated armor was bulkier than seemed necessary, making the three men wearing it look broad and powerful, which was perhaps the intent. The joints of the armor were comprised of some complicated series of smaller plates and strands shifting back and forth as the two Majors stomped past, which minimized the vulnerability of the joints. Neither of the two men standing on the stage wore helmets, though they both had their weapon belts fully loaded with a variety of shielding and killing implements. Fox, of course, was missing his Talents, but the other Major had one equipped on either side of his temples and was staring at the rows of girls and women before him in mild disdain.
“These are all the girls in the Anomalies registry?” Fox’s companion asked one of the instructors without introducing himself.
He probably considers himself too important for any kind of remotely human gesture, Ana thought savagely, fearing and
hating the group of them even more.
“Yes, Major Augen,” the instructor answered respectfully, using the proper honorific.
Fox was glaring at the assembled women while his counterpart spoke, and Ana determinedly fixed her gaze on the other Major in order to avoid eye contact with him. She was viciously glad to note that his nose was still horribly bruised and splinted for healing. She hoped it would give him much pain in the months to come.
“You’ll divide into groups at my direction,” the Major informed them coolly. “Anyone younger than forty and with blond hair will stand on the left side of the aisle. Anyone with a Gift involving mental powers will assemble on the right side. All others will remain seated for the time being. Go now.”
That ass isn’t even telling us why they’re here.
Not that Ana didn’t know, but everyone else looked terrified by the directions. She heard the sniffles of several of her peers—most of them younger—as she reluctantly stood up and made her way to the right side of the aisle with a few of the others.
There were only a dozen people standing with her now, though currently the Provo were focused on the other group; apparently there was some debate as to how blond a person’s hair had to be before they were considered “blond.” The girl next to Ana was crying quietly, wiping her tears on her shirtsleeves with trembling hands. They made eye contact briefly and Ana tried to give the other girl an encouraging little nod, belying her feelings.
Fox and the other Major began closely examining each of the girls with blond hair.
“Ayra Allence. Age fifteen. Born in Fidraza,” the unknown Major addressed the first one he came to in a bored voice. “Parents are Eloise and Samuel Allence, the former being verified as deceased nearly two years ago. Primary Gift is—” he paused here, looking suddenly skeptical, “—the ability to always know what time it is without the use of any timekeeping devices. No secondary Gifts listed. Is this correct?”
Ana had no idea where he was getting all of this information from, because he hadn’t done anything to scan her ID-chip, nor had he asked her any questions.