“You’d better leave my classroom, Mr. Connolly,” he says in a faux chipper tone. “Wouldn’t want you to miss your next class.”
“Thanks for caring about my education, Mr. Muldowney,” I reply, mimicking his tone.
The muscles in his jaw twitch. I grab my bag and leave.
Five
My next class, English, is on the other side of campus. It’s hard to get there before the bell rings on a normal day, and Muldowney keeping me behind won’t make it easier. Because of the sprawling layout of the campus, most teachers will offer a note if they keep you after class, but I wouldn’t dream of asking Muldowney for one. I have enough reminders of the leverage he has over me.
He’s changed since the trip to Wichita Meadows. He’s always had it out for me, but something about him seems fundamentally unhappy. He doesn’t even seem to take joy in giving me a hard time like he used to. He seems angry all the time, or maybe it’s sadness. Even though I can’t stand the guy, part of me feels bad for him. I’ve seen this happen before.
He’s had two close-up encounters with metahumans, and neither went well. He feared for his life. I think something primal gets tripped in our brains after an experience like that. The immediate threat subsides, but the fear never leaves. At best, it’s replaced with anger, which is just another type of fear. Maybe he’ll have a positive experience with a meta one day and that will change. Maybe not.
I’m lost in thoughts about Muldowney when I notice that the campus is emptier than usual. Crap, I must be later than I thought. I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time: 9:34 a.m. I’m definitely going to be late, but the bell hasn’t rung yet. Others should still be out here on their way to class.
I spot a few students up ahead. They’re running across the lawn to the opposite side of a dormitory building. It’s possible they’re all late for the same class, but there aren’t any classroom buildings in that direction.
I pick up my pace, curious where they’re running to. I look to my right and spot another group of students gathered a few hundred yards away. They’re standing together, staring up at the sky. Some are pointing. I search for what has caught their attention, but the dormitory is in the way.
I jog around the building. Trees block my view, but I see more students looking at the sky. I run faster but stay aware of my surroundings. Whatever they’re looking at is likely metahuman related. I might need a place to duck into to activate my suit. I spy a small alcove along the wall of the dormitory. It’ll do in a pinch.
I slow down as I approach the other students, careful not to draw attention in case I need to make a hasty exit. I look up and see that the sky is on fire.
Behind the fire is a large, gray object, roughly the size of a tractor-trailer.
I recognize it as a ship. The flames from its entry into our atmosphere obscure part of it, but I’m sure. The clean design matches the ship Midnight found in Kaldonia. It’s not exact, but it’s close enough that I’m sure it came from the same alien world. What are the odds that two different types of extraterrestrials would happen to visit Earth at the same time?
But it doesn’t make sense. The ship Midnight discovered in space was light-years away. Even with my somewhat loose grasp of physics, I know there’s no way it could have gotten here this quickly.
I rifle through my bag and find my communications earpiece at the bottom, underneath a pile of gum wrappers, which is where it always is when I need it. I push it into my ear and tap to connect to Midnight.
“Are you there?” I whisper.
I don’t want to draw attention, although I could probably strip naked and do the Electric Slide and no one would notice.
There’s no response from Midnight. I tap again and try Jim. He should be on campus, and he also have his earpiece in, but there’s nothing, not even static. Could the ship be causing interference? Midnight planned for a lot of contingencies when he designed these things, but not a spaceship breaking through our atmosphere.
“It’s not stopping!” someone shouts from the crowd.
I look back up. The flames are gone, but the ship is still approaching. A guy near me turns to run but trips and falls. The fall grabs the attention of other students, and panic begins. Students push past each other as they run for safety. Where they think they’ll be safe from a gigantic spaceship, I don’t know.
I tap the communicator again, trying to reach somebody, anybody, who might have more information, but there’s still no signal. Against the sky, a blue streak flies in from the south. Another is heading in from the north. It shouldn’t surprise me that metahumans would want to take a closer look.
The crowd is gone. Most have retreated into the nearest building. A few others are running as far away as possible. I make sure no one is paying attention to me before I reach for the magtonium disk in my pocket, but the magtonium is already working its way up my forearm. It spreads quickly, covering my body in the black nanosuit.
I launch into the sky and barrel toward the oncoming ship. A white streak zips past, another metahuman. There are roughly half a dozen streaks in the sky, all heading to the same destination. None of them have any idea what they’ll do once they get there.
Details of the ship come into focus, even without enhanced vision. Some sections are darker than the rest. They almost appear frosted. Are they windows? I also spot dark lines that look like seams, possibly openings.
A metahuman, clad in red and yellow, pulls up next to me. He doesn’t acknowledge me as he slows to shift from a prone to upright position, pulling his arms out to his sides.
His body ignites in flames, but the fire is mostly concentrated around his outstretched hands. He grunts and thrusts his hands forward, hurling a fireball at the alien ship.
Not the greatest idea.
The fireball reaches the ship and extinguishes like a match dropped in a bucket of water. There’s no damage, not even scorch marks.
“Hey, man, maybe let’s see what they want before we start throwing fireballs at them?” I shout.
The meta sneers and extends his arms again. This time, the motion propels him toward the ship. He releases a guttural scream as he accelerates. I can’t imagine what it was about seeing that fireball do absolutely nothing to this ship that made him think launching himself at it would be a good idea, but he seems committed.
Hundreds of yards from the ship, he smacks into something unseen with a sickening thud. His limp body falls to the ground.
I back up, hovering in the air a considerable distance from the ship. Another metahuman falls from the sky on the far side of the ship. They just tried the same thing and met the same fate.
“Pull back, dammit!”
The barely audible feed in my ear is riddled with static, but the voice clearly belongs to Midnight.
“Hello, can you read me?” I ask.
There’s silence, followed by a burst of static.
“Fall back now, Connor! Do you read me? Get out of there immediately.”
Six
Midnight doesn’t even turn his head to acknowledge me when I land in the middle of his subterranean hideout. Out of all the different bases of operation I’ve seen, this one is the best equipped, so I wasn’t surprised when he told me to meet him here.
Light from dozens of monitors displaying images of the extraterrestrial craft flood the abandoned subway. The footage is from a mix of television feeds and user-generated live shots. The more professional-looking shots are from helicopters or massive telephoto lenses, but no matter how tight the shots are, there isn’t much information to gather from the exterior of the ship.
Other monitors have newscasts from around the country playing on them. One show a long line of cars flooding the highway outside a city. On another are dozens of people streaming into a supermarket through a smashed window. Panic is beginning to spread rapidly throughout the country.
Midnight isn’t looking at any of those images, though. In front of him is a monitor with a dizzying array of number
s, charts, and waveform patterns. He answers my question before I can ask it.
“They’re radio signals. I’m scanning all known frequencies.”
“Are you trying to communicate with them?”
“That would be helpful, but I can’t even find a signal. A craft that size should be broadcasting a variety of signals, but I can’t detect a single one. Either it’s exceptionally well shielded, or I’m looking in the wrong places.”
A notification chimes from another workstation, and Midnight swivels around to face a monitor displaying an aerial view of the craft.
“Drone approaching edge of known safe zone,” a computerized voice says.
“Wait, that video feed is yours?” I ask.
Midnight nods.
The display is of a far higher quality than the others. It’s a close-up of the ship, with a green grid laid over it.
“There appears to be a protective shield outside the ship that prevents anyone from getting too close. You can thank the idiot who threw the fireball for triggering that,” he says.
“Uh, I don’t think he’s around to thank anymore.”
Midnight leans in close to the monitor and types a few commands. The video feed cycles through different color palettes. I recognize one as infrared and another as thermal. Both show the outline of the ship and little else. Midnight continues to cycle through different views faster and faster, frustrated by the lack of information.
“I thought you said the ship wouldn’t get here for another hundred years?”
“Not now, Connor,” he whispers angrily, intently focused on the screen.
He cycles back to the original video feed and slams his hand down on the console before standing up and removing his cowl. He rubs his eyes and exhales a long, slow breath.
“They must have access to a technology I know nothing about,” he says. “Something like a wormhole or other faster-than-light travel. These are theoretical even in my time.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I hadn’t thought of them doing that either.”
The joke lands with a resounding thud.
Midnight glances around his workstation, presumably debating what to try next.
“If they traveled through a wormhole, the occupants are likely in stasis,” he tells me in a tone that implies I’d have any idea what he’s talking about.
“Occupants?”
“Whoever is inside that ship.”
“What do you mean they might be in stasis?”
“Hibernation, suspended animation, something like that. It’s crucial for humans during long-haul space travel. I don’t have information about the biological makeup of Volarians, but considering their appearance, it’s safe to assume we share similar biological barriers. Stasis makes overcoming the harsher elements easier. Most forms of space travel in the future aren’t possible without it.”
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“If they’re in there, they’re likely asleep, but they won’t remain that way for long. The ship has initiated its automated defenses, but they’re a temporary measure until the crew wakes up. When that happens, they may decide to take more aggressive defensive measures.”
“I’d hope that anyone thinking about attacking them would reconsider after seeing how well it went the first time.”
Right on cue, a gray streak zips by the drone’s camera. The air turbulence causes the drone to veer off its axis. An instant later, the gray streak slams into an invisible wall and falls out of frame.
“Surely that has to be the last one. How many times will it take before people realize that won’t work?”
Seven
The answer, it turns out, is seventeen. Seventeen times I watch metahumans collide with the invisible force field surrounding the alien craft before the attempts finally stop.
It’s late, and I’m dozing off in a workstation chair. Midnight has been attempting to analyze the ship from a distance for hours. The displays tuned to news channels from around the world have all been on mute for some time. They don’t have any new information to offer, but that hasn’t stopped them from hosting wall-to-wall coverage of what they’re calling the biggest event in human history.
I sent Derrick a message to let him know I was safe and in Bay View City with Midnight. He replied asking me to call him as soon as I have any information. He’s working the story from his side, researching what the government’s response will be. To him, it’s a foregone conclusion that if anyone can figure out anything before the rest of the world, it’s Midnight.
Jim and Sarah have also been in touch. Both are eager to help, but there’s nothing to do yet. Jim sent a photo of our dorm’s downstairs lounge. Students are huddled around a television, watching the same news channel Midnight has muted. Jim said that many students who live within driving distance already had their parents come take them home. They likely won’t be any safer down the road, but at least they’ll be with family. Jim’s situation at home isn’t great, but even if it were, I couldn’t imagine him leaving.
“I have something,” Midnight announces.
There isn’t much excitement in his voice, even for him, but it’s the first sign of progress since the ship entered the atmosphere.
I join him at his workstation. “What is it?”
“I’ve located a signal coming from the ship. It’s the same type I detected from Volaris itself. It was among the first things I looked for when the ship appeared, but it took me a while to find it. That might mean some of the systems are coming online.”
“Can you read anything from it?”
Midnight shakes his head. “It’s encrypted, but I can tell where it’s transmitting to: Kaldonia.”
“Why am I not surprised.”
“That’s not what’s interesting. I assumed this new craft would try to contact the crashed ship and figure out that the crashed ship is essentially useless. The Kaldonians stripped it of its only weapon system, the magtonium in your pocket.”
“Maybe it’s trying to get data from the ship about Earth?”
“Maybe, a one-time transfer like that would happen very quickly, considering the bandwidth they have available. I can’t read it, but I can see there’s a lot of it. Why would they need a sustained connection with a craft that’s been disabled for years?”
“You got me. I didn’t know aliens existed until a few weeks ago, so this is all new to me.”
“There’s something else. Look at this.”
Midnight enters a command into his workstation, and the screen above him displays an aerial view of Kaldonia before zooming in on the capital, specifically a large discrete concrete building.
“That’s where the signal is being transmitted to, not the crashed ship.”
“Huh?”
“Exactly. The technology to read this signal doesn’t currently exist anywhere on Earth, yet something in the capital of Kaldonia has established a connection.”
“Well, that’s strange.”
“It’s more than strange. It’s impossible.”
“There’s a motivational poster in the hallway outside my math class that says nothing is impossible.”
“That poster is wrong, because this is impossible. Unless, that is, components were removed from the scout ship and moved to another facility in Kaldonia. Even then it would be incredibly difficult to get them up and running, considering how integrated everything seemed inside the ship. Regardless, that’s not the most important question.”
“What is?”
“Why did someone in Kaldonia decide to remove the communications system, and what are they doing with it? No other government on Earth has established communications with this craft.”
“As far as you know.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“So, what’s the next step? Fly over to Kaldonia and knock some heads together?”
“It’s too difficult to enter Kaldonia undetected now that the Volarian ship has entered our atmosphere, and we’re after information, not nec
essarily the receiver. But there is someone outside Kaldonia who might have some answers.”
Eight
From the outside, the Kaldonian embassy looks like all the other buildings on its quiet street. Most people would think it was just another nice three-story townhouse, if they noticed it at all. Its only distinguishing feature is the Kaldonian flag flying above the entrance and the massive security guard standing outside.
No one has seen or heard from Kyle since he terrorized the city, killing seven metahumans before the day was through. Halpern took him into custody after I ripped the magtonium from him, but he warned me there’d be little they could do thanks to his diplomatic immunity.
Sure enough, Kyle was granted bail a few days later. His lawyers argued it was the magtonium that had made Kyle kill. That was a lie. I know because he told me.
Halpern reached out to see if I would testify at the trial. The courts ruled years ago that metahumans couldn’t keep their identities hidden while testifying. There were already laws to that effect, of course, but any hope that metahumans would be exempt were dashed long ago. This meant I would have had to reveal my identity to testify. Even with my testimony, Kyle probably wouldn’t have seen jail time; his lawyers were the best money could buy.
Still, I considered it. I desperately wanted Kyle behind bars for what he’d done, even if it meant giving up my secret. But if the world found out who Omni really was, it would be the people around me who would suffer the most.
Ultimately, the trial never happened. Kyle was released on bail and taken via limousine straight to the Kaldonian embassy downtown. The court had seized his passport, meaning returning to Kaldonia was impossible, but he didn’t have to go far to escape justice. He simply holed up inside the embassy and skipped the trial. Since the embassy is considered Kaldonian soil, federal authorities can’t take him into custody unless he steps outside the front door.
Meta (Book 5): New Empire Page 3
