Sven also insisted they continue with their hand-to-hand combat practice and with the strength and fitness regimes he had implemented, despite their protests they were unlikely to be of use in a fight against a Gaptor.
“And how do you know that? What if your gliders are injured, and this is the only way you can defend yourselves against that brute?” Sven barked.
“But Sven, the Gaptor’s about five times our size! And no doubt five times as strong or more. And have you seen his hide? Even a tank would have trouble blasting through that,” Jaden complained.
“You can never be too prepared,” Sven said. “Would you rather you had no clue how to land a blow or avoid one?”
Jaden eventually gave up arguing.
Then there were the wake-up calls at all hours of the night, sometimes multiple times. All part of Sven’s plan to shorten the time it took them to get battle-ready. It was exhausting. And finally, the piece that almost broke Jaden was Sven withholding their food, testing their retention of the rudimentary elements of edible plant and insect identification Atu taught them.
“Lack of food will sap you of your energy and drive to continue more than anything else,” Sven warned. “You must be capable of feeding yourselves wherever this journey may take you.”
Kayla rolled her eyes wearily. “Sven, there’s practically a store in every town. And with our enhanced speed, I’m sure we’ll always be within reach of food.”
“Again, what if your gliders are injured? Do you know how to feed them? And how will you survive if there’s no store nearby and you have no inkling of how to find food and water? It comes down to basics—you have to know them.”
“We know.” Atu sighed. “‘Fortune favors the prepared mind.’”
That was the last time they’d tried convincing Sven he was going overboard. They just did their best to cope with whatever he threw at them at that particular second of that particular day.
Jaden, in a rare moment of clarity one morning, realized this was Sven’s intention from the start: to teach them to react without thinking, so their responses would be reflexive. If they could achieve this, their chances of success improved exponentially. Sven reminded Jaden of this when, after what seemed like endless, intense training, Sven made an announcement.
“Today, you’ll be pitting your skills against an actual opponent,” Sven informed the bleary-eyed teens as they slouched on the table, plowing through breakfast.
Jaden perked up, as did Kayla and Atu. Finally! Something to break the tedium. Something to fight against. Jaden observed Kayla as she straightened in her chair, looking more alive than she had in weeks. Their grueling schedule had taken its toll.
Her green eyes were more striking than ever, their color accentuated by the dark smudges of exhaustion underlining them. Her hair was tousled, as though all the time under the face mask had left a permanent kink in some places. And although her muscles had gained definition, Jaden could tell she had lost weight.
Her smart suit, once a snug fit, hung loose in places. If only he could protect her. But that was beyond his control. Despite his concern over her wellbeing, this training was perhaps the only way to keep her safe. He would do what he could to help her excel. She had to be better than the rest of them. She had to survive.
“What sort of opponent?” Atu asked.
Sven grinned. “One that will test whether you’re ready for those beasts.”
They didn’t bother asking more questions, convinced it would be an exercise in futility. Instead, they raced through the remnants of their breakfast, eager to discover what awaited them. Bounding outside, they shared the good news with their gliders. Sven emerged from the house in time to see Han and Taz taking to the air. Seconds later, the gliders breezed back, picking up their voyagers via aerial connection and then rapidly gaining altitude.
Jaden smiled as Han quivered under him. Although they wouldn’t admit it, their gliders seemed almost as curious as the teens about their mysterious opponent. And when it came at them, as unexpectedly as the Gaptor always had, it didn’t disappoint.
A smaller version of the real thing—a drone shaped into a Gaptor-like clone—darted in front of them. Shooting out a mechanical arm, it swiped at Han’s wing as it passed. Han tipped his wing and dipped downward as he nimbly dodged the attempt.
Jaden realized he wasn’t the only one staring when he caught sight of Kayla and Atu’s shocked faces. Sven’s miniature beast momentarily confused them. But it didn’t take long to figure out this was intentional. By giving them a scaled-down target, Sven was guaranteeing their success in taking down a larger, more cumbersome version. Because as they engaged the diminutive clone, assessing its abilities, Jaden found it more agile than its real-life counterpart. It executed tighter turns, responded more rapidly to attacks, and provided quicker comebacks than the Gaptor they’d faced only a few weeks before. They had their work cut out for them. The time for observation was over.
Jaden signaled Kayla and Atu, paired on Taz, expressing the play he thought would be most effective against the clone. They signaled acceptance. Their gliders maneuvered them into the correct positions. Then they attacked.
Han and Jaden lunged past, drawing its attention. The clone immediately dashed after them. While it honed its attention on the duo, Kayla, Atu, and Taz curved downward from a higher altitude, arcing like a scimitar through the empty sky.
Carving a path at the rear of the hunt, they ended up behind and underneath the racing duelers, catching the clone squarely between them and the boys. A nanosecond before the relic stones flashed, the clone dropped at an alarming rate.
“Unbelievable!” Jaden yelled.
“Not fair!” Kayla shrieked.
The real Gaptor could never lose altitude that fast. As their gliders held their positions, Jaden glanced at the others. They were all thinking the same thing: Sven had programmed the drone to avoid the specific attacks they’d learned. Is he testing whether we can improvise and how skillful we’ll be at it?
As the drone dropped from sight, Jaden signaled he wanted to speak with the others. Taz winged her team upward until they hovered alongside Han and Jaden.
“Sven did that deliberately—” Jaden began.
“You think?” Atu grunted. “It’s the only way his clone will win!”
“Or so he thinks!” Jaden said. “We will put his adaptive programming skills to the test.”
“How?” Kayla asked.
Jaden grinned ghoulishly. “I suggest beginning our next offensive with play one, but when the roll comes, we switch to play seven, picking it up where the roll ends. That should scramble its little tin brain.”
Kayla’s eyes slanted in a sly smile. “Especially if we add play four between the lift and the curve.”
“Love it!” Atu crowed.
“Me too,” Jaden said. Then he yelled, “Watch out—here it comes again!”
They broke apart, flying in opposite directions as they had been taught. Dividing the clone’s focus served two purposes: it gave them a slight time advantage while the hunter selected its target, and it minimized the risk of both gliders being injured in one attack. As expected, the drone faltered, then took off after Taz.
“Looks like we’re the bait,” Kayla shouted above the rushing wind.
Jaden watched them streak away, just catching Atu’s reply.
“I don’t think it liked our surprise first attack. It’s hoping that if it destroys us, there won’t be further unpleasant shocks.”
“How wrong that logic is . . .” Kayla’s words drifted away as she passed out of range of Jaden’s hearing.
He could see her laughing, though, as Taz began a long, slow spiral upward. The drone, sensing its prey’s reduced speed, accelerated. Its trajectory would place it smack in the middle of Taz’s spiral, where it could do the most damage with the least effort. But a fraction of a second after it sped up, Taz tucked her wings and flipped into a roll.
Their timing was perfect—long enough af
ter the drone expended energy to negate deceleration and close enough to prevent the drone from changing direction without ripping one of its artificial wings off. The drone rocketed past Taz, inadvertently increasing the distance between them. But Taz’s team had no time to gloat. Registering the play, the drone slowed and corrected its path, aiming for where its prey would arrive if they completed the routine.
Jaden grinned. Tin Can was in for a rude awakening. He held his breath as Kayla and Atu gripped Taz’s fur, readying for the switch in play. The extreme sideways force of the change knocked them off-balance for a second, but their smart suits adjusted their postures, compensating for the sudden torque. They came out of the roll and streaked across the sky horizontally, faster than a shooting star. Jaden whooped, ecstatic.
The drone hovered, muddled, at a loss what to do. Then it lurched after Taz again. But it had taken too long. Han and Jaden had raced in from behind, within striking distance. Jaden activated his DD, careful where he directed the blade.
Before the drone could dart away, Jaden lifted his arm and flicked his wrist. A thin sliver of energy separated from the wand, crackling and popping as it sliced through the air. Jaden held his breath. His aim was true. He waited for contact, but it never came.
As if responding to an unheard external command, the drone boosted upward, powered by hidden rocket thrusters. When Jaden spotted the telltale trail of flames, he groaned. Sven, the swindler! He’s cheating again! The drone could’ve only moved so fast if Sven had overridden its command center.
So Sven could control the clone from the ground—he could see what was going on. That was only possible if the drone had cameras sending Sven feedback. They would have to take care of that, assuming the drone escaped the remaining play aimed at placing it between the relic stones.
Han bitterly lambasted Sven’s less-than-sportsmanlike behavior before growling, “If it chases us, we can still complete the play and destroy it.”
“I agree. Let’s go!”
Han surged upward, catching the air under his wings in powerful gusts. They closed in on the drone. Curiously, it didn’t duck away. Jaden debated the meaning but diverted his attention to holding on when Han collided with the drone, raking his tough talons across the shiny shell forming the main body.
The drone bounced sideways, away from the vicious nails, bobbing aimlessly for a split second before recovering. It zipped left, then rotated its gangly frame as it dropped below them. Instantly, Jaden understood. The drone hadn’t moved earlier because heat from the rocket thrusters must have compromised at least one of its cameras. Sven was blind to attacks from below. Useful information. Jaden softly communicated this to Han, who gave a satisfied, toothy grin in acknowledgement.
“Hah, Sven’s lost some of his advantage,” Han gloated. “Now, if only that clone would chase us! What’s it waiting for?”
Jaden was thinking the same thing. Up to this point, the drone had decided rapidly. In a flash, it came to him. Because the heat damaged more than just the cameras. It must’ve fried some wiring. It’s probably running some diagnostic or rebooting. Either way, it’s a golden opportunity.
“Han, we need to attack—now!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Han didn’t argue or demand an explanation. Tucking his wings, he dove toward the still-motionless drone. With one sinuous movement, Jaden flipped the safety off the DD, moved the blade upward, and waited for the right moment. Just a little closer.
The drone came within range. Jaden flicked his wrist, and with an explosive crack, the DD’s sizzling beam smashed into the drone. In a brilliant shower of sparks, the drone vaporized into a harmless cloud of gray ash. The nebulous cloud disintegrated as the breeze caught the particles, leaving no evidence anything had ever been there.
“Great shooting!” Kayla hooted as they caught up to Jaden and Han.
Excitement flushed Kayla’s face. Some of her long blonde hair had escaped her mask and whipped around her impish smile. Jaden laughed. Her exuberance was infectious. Just as well they were still perched on their gliders, or Jaden would’ve drawn her into his arms and kissed that remarkably mobile mouth of hers.
He caught himself. Had he really just contemplated that? He sighed. Controlling his thoughts and emotions around her was becoming almost impossible. It wouldn’t be long before he slipped up, and then he would have to pay the piper.
As much to get his mind running on a different track as to tease her, Jaden said, “What took you so long? We had to have all the fun without you!”
“Sure you did!” Atu grinned. “What was the point of sharing the glory?”
Jaden laughed. “Next time, get here faster, and I’ll let you take the first shot! What say you we go rub our victory in?”
Chuckling as their gliders descended, they coasted back to where Sven waited. Alighting with ease, the trio strode over to Sven. Their gliders landed behind them a second later.
“You don’t exactly look pleased about our success,” Jaden said.
“Do you know how long it took me to build that drone? And you demolished it without a second thought!” Sven shook his head in disbelief. “Thankful that I am that those monsters haven’t reappeared, at least it wouldn’t have mattered if you had terminated them. But destroying my drone, and while it was defenseless because it was rebooting? It’s untenable!”
“I thought that was the point of the exercise,” Atu cooed sweetly. “To take advantage of our enemy when he was at his weakest?”
“But that wasn’t the case here. You should’ve waited and faced it like soldiers, or at least tried capturing it instead of destroying it!”
“Why? So you could cheat another way and take us out instead? I think not!” Jaden shot back.
“I didn’t even get to deploy the distraction drones. You shouldn’t have won,” Sven lamented.
“Oh, so there were more drones. Talk about stacking the odds against us! Not to mention all those sneaky enhancements—like knowing our plays,” Kayla remarked sourly.
“And making the drone quicker and more agile than the real thing,” Jaden added.
“All necessary for an accurate test of your abilities,” Sven said.
“And yet, when we prove ourselves, you’re not happy about it,” Jaden asserted, bringing the conversation full circle.
Sven sighed heavily. “No. you did well. My regret is that it was over so quickly. I was hoping for a more comprehensive test.”
Taz fluttered her wings, rearranging them. “I doubt you would’ve succeeded even if you had more time.”
Jaden smiled. “Spoken like a true champion.”
“You have no idea,” Han murmured, making the teens eye him questioningly. He huffed. “Ask me about it another time.”
The teens turned to Taz and caught her smirking.
“What?” Jaden demanded.
“He’s right,” Taz said. “It will have to wait for another time. Armorer, I believe in our voyagers, but I’d like to hear your thoughts on our performance.”
“Formidable!” Sven divulged. “Especially the way you mixed up the plays. I confess, it took me a while to work that out. Tell me, what was the complete idea? Had you planned on incorporating another play, or was it only the two I saw?”
Jaden picked up the thread, taking pleasure in enlightening Sven as to their strategy.
“Ah, excellent!” Sven said. “I didn’t think you could combine the plays like that. It seems my error was underestimating you. You did well—all of you,” Sven said, acknowledging the gliders’ part in their victory.
The teens grinned while their gliders inclined their heads as they accepted Sven’s compliment.
“Can we have a snack now?” Jaden asked.
“Afraid I am, all for which there is time, that is.”
The voice behind had them leaping back, and assuming offensive positions, but it was unnecessary.
“Zareh!” Jaden and Kayla breathed.
He dipped his head, greeting them and the
ir gliders. “To all of you, salutations! My congratulations, for two more seekers reclaiming!”
“Thank you, Zareh,” the gliders replied, their heads bowed.
But Jaden’s anger flared. He lashed out. “We wouldn’t have if we hadn’t found the map. Thanks for the help with that, by the way. So good of you to vanish before you could give us any information that would be genuinely helpful.”
“Ahem, yes,” Zareh grunted, clearing his throat. “Me to spot, Kayla’s mother, permitted was not.”
“Like she would’ve been able to.” Jaden snorted. “She’s not a seeker. Nice try, but no banana! Care to try again?”
Zareh fixed him with a beady stare. “Accept I do, that upset you are. But know also do I, that explained to you the reasons for that lack of information, your gliders have. Understand, please try.”
“Why?” Jaden fumed.
“The only one affected, you are not. Saving people by too little knowing, you are. Think upon them, you should.”
“As if that makes any sense!”
“Tried it yet, you have not,” Zareh replied, “or of introducing me to your friends, you might have thought.”
Somewhat chastened, Jaden corrected his error, more to pacify the gliders glaring at him than out of courtesy to Zareh. Atu and Sven stretched out hands in greeting toward their much talked-about visitor.
“Welcome to my home,” Sven gushed, his massive frame towering over the pint-sized protector.
“I thank you,” Zareh said.
“Very nice to meet you,” Atu said, shaking Zareh’s hand.
“To meet you, a pleasure likewise it is, Healer.”
Atu’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Yeah, don’t let that shock you,” Jaden snarked. “He apparently knows everything about everyone.”
Zareh ignored Jaden. “For your services, to both of you, my deepest thanks. Fear do I, that lost our gliders would have been, if your healing powers they had not benefitted from,” Zareh said, looking directly at Atu before turning his gaze on Sven. “And surely, no hope without your invaluable battle strategies and remarkable inventions, would we have had.”
Destiny Series Boxed Set Page 45
