‘Goldrush!’ He shoots a blast of energy from the barrel of the laser-lance. ‘You need to get moving! We’ve got to get to the Kobeyashi!’ I start running again but still there’s nothing kicking in, and while the Knight is doing a good job of taking down the henchmen, there are way too many for him to handle all by himself. The few he hasn’t rendered unconscious spot me coming and swing their guns towards me.
‘Oh no!’ I whisper as I hear the sound of gunfire crackling. Machina is a purple blur as she dives in between the henchmen and me, bullets bouncing off her armour like hail off the hood of a tank.
‘Man, do I ever owe you one,’ I say to her.
‘Oh my God, Sam!’ she replies. ‘Look!’
‘At what?’ I ask, but in the back of my head I think I kind of already know. Something feels … off. I look down. There’s blood. A lot of blood. It’s all over my chest and stomach and on my hands. My hands. They’re shaking.
I fall to the ground sloppily, my vision of the world becoming double, triple, splitting apart and wildly tilting. I don’t feel Machina land next to me, don’t hear the sound of her jets. All I know is she’s on her knees and her faceplate has peeled back to reveal her frantic expression. I can’t hear what she’s saying. I can’t even warn her when one of the giant robots wheels around, takes aim at her and fires, blasting her away and onto her back.
In the distance, the Knight is struggling with over a dozen henchmen who have attacked him en masse. Through blurred vision I watch as he alternates between blasting the red energy at his attackers and warding them off with quick strikes from the staff, but that’s only just holding them at bay.
Immersed in battle, he hasn’t seen the henchman coming up behind him. All I can do is watch helplessly as he’s cracked across the skull with the butt of a machine gun. Even then the Knight battles on weakly, taking the henchman out with his staff, but the odds are obviously stacked against him.
With Machina down, Agent Alpha and Gaia are left to contend with the remaining robots by themselves. Time is running out. Gaia breaks off from the battle and flies as fast as she can for the Kobeyashi tower, only to be sent plummeting to the ground by a blast of energy. That leaves only Agent Alpha, and he’s struggling in the immense grip of the largest of the androids.
That’s when I see a light. At first I think it’s the one that comes at the end of the tunnel, and I feel a strange calm settle over me. I know the certainty of what’s happening and as much as I don’t it want to, as much as I fear it, I know there’s no struggling against it.
But that’s not what the light is.
It’s an explosion, emanating from the Kobeyashi tower and mushrooming outwards, wiping away entire city blocks as it moves steadily, unceasingly outwards, a white wall of destruction.
We failed.
I failed.
The white light expands and expands until finally it reaches the block we’re on. The Red Death’s henchmen have fled, leaving a bruised and bloody Knight of Wands to attempt to get Machina and me on our feet, but it’s too late. It’s all too late.
I stare up into the sky, unblinking, as everything is washed away in a wave of perfect white, followed by an intense, overwhelming sense of blackness.
Then nothing.
Simulation complete, a calm, robotic voice says. Simulation failed.
I reach up and pull the helmet off my head. From my seat in the reality simulation lab, I look around at my team-mates. The only one that meets my eyes is Machina, and she does not look pleased.
‘Well,’ Agent Alpha says as he steps up from his cushioned chair, placing his helmet back on the headrest. ‘That could have gone better.’
‘I’ll say,’ the Major says over the intercom. She’s standing behind the window in the control booth and the technician in charge of the simulation is seated beside her. ‘If you could all join me in here for the debriefing.’
I think my expression and general body language must be speaking very loudly about how I’m feeling, because Gaia comes over to me.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘That was just your first try. Besides, there was a lot that any one of us could have done that we failed to do.’
‘Thanks, Gaia,’ I mumble. She smiles at me, but even that feels like small consolation. It’s been a week of this. One long, hard week of training.
It started out one-on-one with the Major in the ship’s gym. They’d outfitted a treadmill specifically for me. I’d shown up in costume so that the lab techs could measure my performance with the sensors wired into the V-suit. Before starting the session, however, the Major had sprung a surprise quiz, testing me on the knowledge of my new identity.
‘What’s Goldrush’s date of birth?’ she’d asked.
‘Uh … the same as mine?’
‘Same date, but two years earlier,’ she’d corrected me. ‘You really have to commit this stuff to memory. You never know when it’s going to come up.’
After I offered an embarrassed apology, I was ushered into the testing area to mount the treadmill.
‘Just relax, build up your speed gradually. Remain in control,’ the Major had said. It sounded like the easiest thing in the world to do, but when I’d hit 500 kilometres per hour the treadmill had suddenly buckled and I was sent speeding into the wall, my force-field flaring up to send me crashing through the reinforced steel into the storage room next door.
The lab techs had not looked impressed. Neither had the Major.
The rest of my training had involved learning about battle tactics. Eight-hour days of nothing but pincer movements and net-war counterstrategies, broken up by classes with my tutor where I studied maths, science and Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, to then go back to my room to read and re-read about my unlived lives. When the Major had told me I’d be participating in a mission simulation with the rest of the team, I was almost relieved.
Almost.
I’m the last one into the control booth after the disastrous simulation. I dawdle on purpose, feeling horribly self-conscious as I walk through the doorway. As I enter, I sneak a look at the clock on the wall. Normally at this time I’d be on the bus heading to school, arguing with my friends or telling jokes. Compared to what’s about to happen, I know where I’d rather be.
‘So there’s a number of things we can improve on,’ the Major says, not wasting time on formalities. ‘The first of which is communicating more clearly to our junior members what their responsibilities are and what the full plan of attack is.’
‘Why am I being included in this?’ Machina says, already on the defensive. ‘I’m not the one who choked in there.’
‘That’s unfair, Machina,’ Gaia says in a soothing voice.
‘What the Major is saying is true,’ Agent Alpha says. ‘It’s our responsibility to offer better guidance. I allowed the time-sensitive nature of the situation to overshadow my delegation of duties.’
‘And we didn’t monitor how the other members of the team were progressing closely enough,’ Gaia offers.
‘You guys don’t have to do this,’ I say in a very small, very embarrassed voice. ‘I know where we went wrong. It was me. I had to run. That’s all I had to do, and I couldn’t do it. When it first happened I didn’t even mean it to, but I just don’t want … I mean, the first time I … I …’
I’m finding it very difficult to keep myself together. The world’s most famous superheroes are gathered together and looking at me with this increasing sense of pity. I just got them all killed in a replica of a situation we could very easily find ourselves in, and now I’m practically on the verge of tears. It’s more embarrassing than the time I wet myself in kindergarten.
‘The fact of the matter is, Sam, you weren’t ready,’ the Knight of Wands says, stepping forward from the shadowy corner he’s gravitated towards. ‘That’s not your fault. The Major will work more closely with you and then we’ll try again. Don’t beat yourself up about it. In the meantime, I have work to do. If you’ll excuse me …’
&n
bsp; The Knight strides from the room, his cloak billowing around him. He’s just about to sweep past me when the Major catches him by the arm. He glances at her, his muscles tensing for a moment, but he doesn’t react beyond that.
‘Where are you going?’ she asks with a tightened voice.
‘I don’t have a wealth of time to be spending on premature exercises. I have a lead on the Major Arcana. The longer I leave it the colder it gets.’
‘What’s the Major Arcana?’
My question posed via sub-vox is meant for Machina, which I indicate by subtly looking at her. I can tell I’ve miscalculated, however, when everyone in the room, including the Knight of Wands, turns to look at me.
‘The Major Arcana is a neohuman organisation my father set up for the good of humanity, which my brother has perverted into a terrorist-network-for-hire since he seized control of it,’ the Knight says. Then he calmly adds, ‘If you only want one person hearing your sub-vox communication, you have to address them by their name first, otherwise it goes out on all channels.’
‘Gotcha,’ I say awkwardly. ‘Sorry.’
Machina rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
I’m getting really tired of her doing that.
‘Can’t you let the Arcana go?’ Gaia asks the Knight. ‘Why the sudden resurgence in your activities against them?’
For a moment it looks like he’s going to give her an answer, but then he looks around and sees everyone else is watching with interest. He moves once again for the door.
‘Because it’s my job,’ he says simply, and disappears.
That brings the day’s training session to a close. Major Blackthorne says she’ll have a report generated that will be sent to all of us by the end of the day, and lets us go. Agent Alpha pats me on the shoulder as we walk out and tells me not to worry too much.
‘But it felt so real,’ I say. ‘I mean … I was dying. I could feel it.’
‘The helmets electronically stimulate the emotion centres of your brain. It feels real because to your brain it is real.’
Machina walks past us, scowling at me.
‘So that’s why Machina was so upset when I got hurt in the simulation, but she was just annoyed with me when we finished?’
Agent Alpha glances at Machina as she steps into the elevator, the doors closing behind her.
‘Don’t pay too much attention to Machina. She’s just got her feathers a bit ruffled at the moment. She’ll be okay. And so will you.’ He offers me a big smile, and I return it, but as soon as he turns to leave it drops from my face as quickly as I forced it on there.
Instead of heading straight back to my room I loiter for a while, watching the ocean from one of the large hallway windows. I notice a black jet setting off. It looks kind of like a stealth bomber – the wings are inverted and two lances jut out from the front of them. I use my visor to telescope my vision and the read-out to identify it. It’s the Chariot, the jet belonging to the Knight of Wands. No other information comes up as the rest is classified.
Great, I think to myself. I’ve driven away one of the founding members with my incompetence. How could today get any worse?
Fort Kirby Army Base, Hawaii, USA
Private Clark Spencer stares up at the face of the metal monster. The creature doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move. It just sits there in its cell, wrapped in chains, its cold eyes glinting in the darkness. With its midnight armour and horned helmet it looks like a demonic gladiator – something that’s just marched from the bowels of hell.
Private Spencer shudders.
‘How’s it going, private?’ Sergeant Charles Foster asks as he walks into the brig. ‘Any change?’
‘Sir, no sir. It’s just sitting there, like it’s been doing for weeks. Creeps me out, sir.’
‘Don’t worry, kid. Couple more hours and he won’t be our problem anymore. I think we’ll all sleep easier once that happens, huh?’
The sergeant ambles over and stares into the cell.
The monster stares back.
‘What do you think it is, sir?’ the private asks. ‘Robot? Animal? Doesn’t seem like it could be human. Hasn’t touched any of the food or water we’ve given it.’
‘All I know, kid, is that once it’s on that transport, it’s for Vanguard Prime to worry about.’
The monster shifts its head at the mention of Vanguard Prime. The small gesture is enough to move Private Spencer into an attack stance, brandishing his rifle at the prisoner. Sergeant Foster chuckles quietly to himself.
‘Relax, private. We’ve got him so restrained he’s not going to be able to scratch his own backside, let alone attack anyone. Stay this jumpy and you won’t be making promotion any time soon.’
‘Sir, yes, sir,’ the private replies, lowering his weapon.
In his cell, Cronus sits, imprisoned by the mortals who have failed to understand him. An engine of destruction that has been shackled in place and left to rust.
In his cell, Cronus sits. And waits.
In the elevator on the way back to my room I hit the Jump button and in a burst of light I’m back in my everyday clothes, the gauntlets replaced by the sleek silver wristwatch that allows me to call my V-suit back whenever I need it. Not that what I’m wearing really makes any difference. I’ve spent an entire week on the Round Table, and I don’t see myself getting off it any time soon.
The fact that Machina is already in her room and has the music blaring from behind her closed door comes as no surprise. It’s what she’s done every day since I met her. In fact, since she took me down to the Gallery earlier in the week, and since that disastrous simulation this morning, I’ve barely shared more than a passing word with her.
I flip on the TV and switch to the music video channel, turning the volume down to the point where it’s just white noise. I sigh as I pick up the now well-worn black book. I open it up to the page I left dog-eared and begin to read.
Though he has no surviving relatives, family means a lot to Goldrush. Proud of his father’s distinguished military career, Goldrush was inspired to become a superhero in order to honour his fallen father’s memory.
I sigh again and look up from the file. There’s a music video of one of those highly manufactured pop stars playing. Ordinarily it wouldn’t bother me. With the sound down, however, there’s no beat to distract from the imagery, which looks calculated and fake.
I toss the file onto the side table and notice, for the first time, a stamp-covered box sitting there. The return address stares up at me.
It’s a package from home!
Inside, there’s a bag of the chunky choc cookies Mum makes for me when I’m feeling down. She’s included some posters from my bedroom wall, and for some reason she’s sent a few of my sports trophies. I pick up the biggest of them and stare at it, like if I look at the little running man on top closely enough he’ll offer me some kind of answer.
I put the trophy back in the box and pull out a letter.
Dear Sam,
It was good to hear from you the other day! You mentioned how empty your new room was, so rather than order things like the Major suggested, your father and I thought we’d send some of your belongings from home to help brighten up the place.
Love, Mum, Dad & Booster
As I chew on one of the cookies I pull all the posters out of the box and unroll them. I leave the trophies.
Figuring I should probably call Mum to thank her for the package, I mute the TV, pick up the telephone receiver and ask the ship’s operator to place a call. It rings and rings and rings before finally picking up.
‘Hello?’
‘Mum?’
‘Sam! Oh my goodness! It’s so good to hear your voice again!’
‘I spoke to you, like, three days ago.’
‘Even so!’ she replies cheerfully. ‘How are you, sweetie?’
‘I’m good, Mum. I got your package.’
‘Oh, good! I hope you liked it. I wasn’t really sure what to include.’
&
nbsp; ‘Well, the cookies were a great start. And you picked some of my favourite posters.’ Then I say the next bit without even really thinking about it. ‘Though I kind of left the trophies behind on purpose.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mum asks.
‘Nothing. I mean … you know, with what happened. The … damage I caused. To everyone.’
‘Sam,’ she says, as if my name alone is a magic word that can offer some kind of comfort.
‘I just don’t want any reminders of it.’
‘But your trophies are something you should be proud of. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent what happened on the sports field. You shouldn’t keep blaming yourself.’
I can’t think of anything to reply with, so I don’t say anything at all.
‘Sam?’ Mum says.
‘How’s Dad?’
‘Well … he got his cast off yesterday. He’s still using his arm as an excuse not to walk Booster, though. I swear, he’ll do anything to avoid exercise.’
‘Did the specialist say anything?’ I ask.
‘Your dad’s still got quite a bit of physical therapy to go, but the doctors are optimistic that he’ll make a full recovery. Good news, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Great news.’
There’s another moment’s pause, which is all the time Mum needs to realise something’s wrong.
‘There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there?’ she asks. ‘Other than the sports field?’
‘I just … don’t know if I’m going to cut it here, Mum.’
My voice trembles more than I want it to.
‘What happened?’
‘We had a training session today, and I didn’t do very well. At all.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not the case.’
‘It is, Mum,’ I say. ‘It’s like, when I didn’t know about my powers they switched on full bore. But now when I try to use them deliberately they won’t come on at all.’
‘What were you trying to use them for?’ she asks.
‘Well … we were in this machine. I can’t remember its proper name, but it replicates –’
There’s a sudden loud click on the line.
Vanguard Prime Book 1 Page 5
