“We’ll be on the surface in five minutes, team,” Suma called from the end of the bench.
“Do you think we’ll be able to fire any weapons?” Canni asked from a few seats over. He leaned forward, stretching the straps around his chest.
“Why would we fire any weapons?” Jules asked the boy. He was now in his junior year and even larger than before. He was smart but always seemed more interested in blowing things up than figuring out solutions to problems. Most of the Keppe Jules had known were warriors, but her mom had told her stories about others like Admiral Yope and Kimtra, who were far more than brutes.
“I thought… empty world. Why not fire some pulse cannons or something?” Canni said before leaning into the bench as the ship shook again, this time with a little more ferocity.
A minute later, it settled to the ground, and the rear hatch hissed open, the steps unfolding away from the body of the dropship. A crisp breeze rushed inside, instantly cooling the forming beads of sweat on Jules’ face. They each unstrapped, Canni becoming stuck in his. Jules stepped over the feet of a Bhlat girl beside her and untangled the Keppe boy’s restraints.
“Thanks, Ju.” He stood two heads over Jules, and she shrank away from him in the confined space, feeling the need to be outside. She rushed past Dean as power coursed into her fingertips.
“No no no no,” she muttered to herself, trying to will the unexpected surge of energy inside her. She needed to figure out how to control it better, but there was no one she could discuss it with. If she told Papa or her mother, they wouldn’t let her out of their sight. Maybe she’d be able to confide in Suma, but the woman was her professor, and busy trying to lead the Academy mission.
Jules left her eyes closed to a slit, and she rounded the dropship, leaning against the far hull. It was warm to the touch. “Go away,” she told her powers, and she felt them subside, returning to somewhere deep within her.
“Jules!” It was Uncle Zeke.
“Over here!” she said.
“What are you doing running off the second we land?” he asked her, his voice stern.
“I thought I saw an animal. It was nothing. I guess I was mistaken,” she lied. Jules hated fibbing to her uncle, but now wasn’t the time to admit her powers were chaotic. She’d be sent home in a flash.
“Next time you think you see an animal, tell Suma,” he said firmly, and she nodded along: a silent promise to behave.
Jules scanned the region for the first time, and was amazed at how foreign it felt. Most of the worlds she’d visited felt like home in some way, but there was something about this planet that was different. Even from here, she sensed the distant star was waning, as if the threat of extinction was palpable. There were tall, thin trees lining the bare patch of soil, all leafless and skeletal. The dirt wasn’t black and nutrient rich; it was brown, with almost a rusty red color mixed in.
She took a deep breath, and everything smelled rotten but dry at the same time. It was an odd sensation. There were no clouds in the sky at the moment, revealing a pale blue expanse. She peered behind her, catching sight of the city beyond.
“Quite the place,” Dean said from her side.
“I suppose,” she replied, taking in the stretching skyscrapers. They were thin like the trees, with artificial limbs sticking out from the structures. She’d never seen someone imitate a tree in a high-rise before, and wondered at the engineering integrity necessary to keep them upright.
“Greetings, Academy.” The voice drew her attention again.
“Where did they come from?” Dean whispered, seeing the group of ten or so local Nirzu appearing from the treeline.
The leader spoke in English, and Jules assumed she’d had the modification surgery to speak with the Alliance during their evacuation.
“Hello. You must be Senator Wylain,” Suma said.
“Yes, and you are Suma from the renowned Academy. We are thankful for your assistance in our departure from our home.” The woman was tall and thin, like everything appeared to be on Menocury L05. Her skin was dark green, her eyes bright white, her head bald and ridged over the brow.
“We’re thankful to be here as well, and to assist as necessary,” Suma said, replying with the same speech intonation as the Nirzu leader.
Jules and the other Academy students were left to the side while the Nirzu spoke with Slate, Loweck, and Suma for a few minutes.
“Do you think we’ll visit the city?” Kira asked excitedly.
“Yeah, maybe we’ll be allowed to blow it up!” Canni said, and Dean rolled his eyes.
“I doubt that. But I’d like to see their homes,” Dean said.
“So would I.” Jules had always found other races fascinating. Seeing the other Alliance members at school was one thing, but to visit their homes and see how they lived when the doors were closed had always intrigued her. When she’d learned that the Inlorians rarely wore clothing inside their private homes, she’d had a hard time not laughing every time one of her Inlor classmates talked to her.
Slate arrived, calm and collected. That was a good sign to Jules. “Everyone, gather your packs. We’re heading to the city for the night. Tomorrow, we begin the first steps of our mission.”
The city was only a mile away, and Jules began marching with the other students. They chatted among each other, but Jules was distracted. Something was pressing against the inside of her mind, and she was fighting to maintain the barrier.
“I’ll catch up. I have a rock in my boot,” she lied again, and crouched to the ground, unable to stop her powers from leaking through. This was getting worrisome. She let it fill her, and a sensation flooded her mind.
She peered to the distance, toward the tugging desperation that seemed to resonate from beyond a mountain range. Something was calling to her. Someone, perhaps. It was a powerful feeling, an urge unlike any she’d felt pull at her before.
Jules was here for a reason. She needed to help.
Seven
Magnus seemed different out of his uniform. He’d rarely worn anything else over the last few years, at least while on board the Horizon, which was pretty much where he resided. He had stubble covering his face, trying to play the part of a rogue traveler, and wore an old pair of jeans, a short-sleeved white button-up that had seen better days, and a black vest, complete with some hidden surprises in concealed pockets.
I was dressed in a similar style: worn but comfortable boots, jeans, a thin long-sleeved shirt, and sunglasses to keep the glare from my eyes as we set out to traverse the northern region of Spain. We had to be as inconspicuous as possible, but that was going to be difficult. Magnus was a good five inches taller than I was, twice as wide, and in great shape, considering his age.
“When was the last time we were on Earth at the same time?” I asked him as we stepped away from the lander.
“No idea. Maybe when you had that party at the house?” Magnus said.
“Jeez. That can’t be right. Jules wasn’t even two then.”
“Maybe it’s not. The years have flown by, my friend. Can you believe Dean is sixteen?” Magnus asked.
I shook my head. “I can’t. I remember arriving after you thought we were lost, and seeing the tiny boy clutching Nat’s leg, and you introducing us to little Dean. It was an honor to share a name with your firstborn, Mag.”
“You do know I wouldn’t have named him that if I’d known you were alive, right?” He threw a light punch at my shoulder.
“Believe me, I know. You’ve mentioned it at least once a year,” I told him. “And Patty. Patrice would have loved that.”
We were set near the French border, within ten miles of a suspected Restorer camp. It was spring here, and already warmer than I was expecting. The sun was high in the sky as the lander moved away, sticking to the treeline to remain out of sight.
“Do you think Patrice would have liked the way things happened?” Magnus asked.
It was strange to think about it. Patrice had been the president, and even though
she’d eventually rebuked the title as she headed to New Spero, she’d always remained our leader until the day she died aboard the Bhlat vessel, under the orders of General Blel.
“I think so. Imagine if she saw New Spero the way it is now. So many Terran cities, each nearly self-contained. Our Alliance of Worlds. She would have loved to collaborate on that board. I can picture her negotiating with petitioning members, her hard-nosed professional jargon… I miss her, Magnus,” I admitted. I didn’t always talk about it, but there was a long list of people I missed, some from before the Event, others after. Time pressed on, but the affection we had for the fallen was frozen in space.
“Are you thinking of Terrance?” Magnus asked.
The battle for Haven and the Academy had been over for five years already, and there were many nights when I woke in a cold sweat, picturing his smiling face as the bullet entered his head. If only I could have…I stopped myself. I couldn’t do that any longer. “Nope,” I lied, not wanting to discuss it.
“I wish Leslie would take the position on the Horizon already,” Magnus said.
“Is that why you have an empty chair on the bridge?” I asked him.
“You always were perceptive.”
“Have you asked her to fill it?”
He nodded slowly. “I asked her to join the crew a few years ago. She said she wasn’t ready.”
“She’s been doing better. I suggest asking again. Be clear you want her for your commander. I think she’ll have a hard time turning it down. It’ll do her some good to be around friends, and maybe she can stop obsessing over her garden,” I said.
“There are worse things she could be doing with her grief,” Magnus said.
“And you were always wise. Like a stubborn old owl,” I told him with a smirk.
Magnus took a deep breath. “This is going to be fun, isn’t it?”
I took in our surroundings. Spain was a gorgeous country, and we were a good one hundred miles outside of Barcelona. The village was run-down, obviously not inhabited for a long time. Grass and saplings sprouted through the streets, and I stepped around some as we walked into the town.
To my left was an old farmhouse, complete with barn and overgrown crops. Freshly-hatched insects buzzed around our faces, and Magnus swiped at them with a hand. Dead power lines still stood, the wood half-rotten on most of the poles.
A string of black birds, likely crows, watched us from a wire, cawing in alarm at our presence. I suspected they didn’t see many humans any longer.
“It’s eerie being here,” Magnus said.
“But kind of refreshing too, right?”
“What do you really think about these guys? Are they the real deal?” Magnus asked.
“I think so. I get the feeling the Restorers have something big up their sleeves. I think Paul and the others could handle the odd attack, even learn to barter with them, but it was something Frasier had said to me. ‘It won’t be long, Cliff. Don’t you worry’.”
“Who the hell is Cliff?” Magnus asked.
“Me.” He stared at me blankly. “Sorry. I didn’t think it was a bright idea to tell this Frasier character I was Dean Parker. That might not have ended so calmly.”
“Good call. What did he mean by that statement?”
I kicked a rock as we walked. It bounced across the gravel street, shooting up dust. “I can’t know for sure, but it had a sense of finality to it. I think they’re going to do something rash.”
“Hmmm. If they have enough people, they could storm a city, but that wouldn’t really accomplish much. Not in terms of creating a world with no technology,” Magnus said.
“I know. It’s going to be a tough one to figure out, but that’s why we’re here. You have your back story memorized, right?” I asked him.
“You bet.” Magnus’ voice changed, his Norwegian descent coming through even more as he laid it on thick. “I’m Markus Nilsson. Pleasure to meet you, Don Larson,” he said.
I laughed at his accent. “It’s going to be hard to keep a straight face beside that.”
“Fine, I’ll tone it down.” Magnus was pulling at his hair. “Maybe I should have dyed my hair bright red.”
“Don Larson. Is it too generic?” I asked.
“It’s perfectly inconspicuous.” Magnus pulled an apple from somewhere and tossed it to me, finding another for himself. He took a loud bite, talking with his mouth full. “You really think they’ll let us walk in and join them?”
I shrugged. “Paul does have a guy on the inside in the States, and he did just that. Unfortunately, it sounds like they’re only out there living like the Amish, erecting barns and milking cows. They don’t appear to know anything about the master plans.”
“And why would they tell us where the head honchos are located?” Magnus asked.
“Because we’re going to show our value. And sell our stories,” I added with a wink.
We kept moving, our shadows growing longer as we traveled by foot, ever toward the target village in the middle of nowhere Spain. We stopped briefly, resting along a wooden fence and drinking heavily from our canteens before continuing.
We’d made nine miles by Magnus’ estimation before we heard the crunch of someone’s boots on the gravel behind us. We were a fair distance from the town we’d strolled through and had only passed a few villas along the ruddy road. At the moment, I could faintly see the outline of a distant home along the rolling hills of northern Spain.
Magnus reached into the air first, and I followed suit. I turned around, taking my friend’s lead. He’d been in more situations like this than I had, at least on Earth, and I was happy to play his sidekick for this one.
“¿Quién eres tú?” the voice said choppily.
“English?” Magnus asked.
“Who are you?” The woman wasn’t young, maybe mid-fifties, and her skin was tanned a dark brown, her hair long and starting to gray. Natural. She was lean and strong.
“Some guys looking to make a difference,” Magnus said, his accent a little forced. When he spoke again, he reined it in. “I heard you could help us with that.”
“Is that so?” she asked, her English close to perfect. “I highly doubt anyone knows who I am. Names.”
I spotted a man behind the bushes ahead, and glanced to the other side, seeing another woman. They were armed.
“Why don’t you ask your friends to come out, and we can have a friendly conversation?” I asked, not wanting a trigger-happy Restorer to end our trip before it began.
The woman smiled and waved the two armed sentries out. They each sauntered with a slow gait toward the worn road and flanked her, not lowering their weapons. One rifle, one pump-action shotgun. They appeared to know how to operate them, judging by their at-ready stances.
“Names,” she said again.
“I am Markus Nilsson, born and bred out of Visby, at your service.” Magnus did a slight bow and an overexaggerated flourish of his hand.
I cleared my throat before speaking. “Don. Don Larson.”
“And where were you” –she looked at Magnus – “born and bred?”
“Good old Ohio, US of A, ma’am,” I said.
“There has to be a story here. You won’t mind if we have a peek in your packs, would you?” the woman asked.
“We told you our names. How about you tell us yours before you go snooping through our stuff?” Magnus said.
I unslung my pack from my shoulders, setting it to the dusty ground.
“Amada,” she said. “Good enough?”
Magnus nodded and set his pack beside mine. The big guy with the shotgun lowered his weapon and walked over to us. We stepped away a few meters while they searched. There was nothing notable to find inside. Anything of use was on our persons, sewn into our clothing. It would take a solid pat-down to find them, and I hoped it didn’t come to that.
The guy ran a hand over his goatee, looked at Magnus, and grunted before returning to his position beside Amada.
“Come,” sh
e said, stalking between us.
We snatched our packs, and I was already a little shaken by how serious these Restorers were shaping up to be. Paul had made it sound like the outskirts groups were nothing but hard-working loners. These people were different, which was a good thing.
It meant we were on the right track.
Eight
Jules woke with a start. Kira was bunking in the same room as her, which Jules found odd, since there were barely any Nirzu remaining on the planet. Surely the students could have had their own space, but it had worked out fine, and Jules hadn’t had any issues overnight.
The Molariun girl’s breathing was even and quiet as she slept soundly, and Jules sat up. She’d been dreaming again. This time, she’d been traveling through a dark portal. She walked into the room with no guidance, only a sense of where to tread. No symbols shone from the walls, the stone wasn’t glowing green like the others, and it was smooth and round.
In the dream, she’d pictured the symbol for Earth and touched the cool stone. That was when she woke, but she was sure the dream-self had made the trip. She knew from her Portals studies that traveling through a dead stone wasn’t possible. At least three had been found by the Keepers over the centuries, and they’d all been deemed unusable. But what if they were wrong? What if Jules alone could control passage through them?
She made a mental note to ask Suma for the locations of these stones one day. When she was a full-blown Gatekeeper, maybe she could drag her partner to one of the dead stones and attempt to use it. It was worth a shot.
Jules thought about graduating and being sworn into service, and what it would feel like. Who would her partner be? She’d seen some of the recent graduates match with old veterans, the youths never being given a choice in who they were paired with.
Jules almost wished Dean would finish before her, so maybe he’d have enough experience to choose her as his partner. She’d tried to hear the voices calling for assistance again last night as Kira had dozed off to sleep. Jules let her power out, but there was no sign of the distress call.
Old World (The Survivors Book Eleven) Page 6
