AQUA (The Elements Series Book 1)

by Korn, Tracy

  She nods to the sand and gathers up another handful, "They wanted confirmation, deep down anyway. I could feel them wondering about my face, like a deference or a hope or something, so thought maybe whatever they believe in has markings too," she stands and looks out at the strangers, now specs against the horizon. "So, I showed them some. People are always searching for others from their tribe."

  The sky begins to dissipate, and the sea beyond us fades to gray and white. Our benches return, and the sand gives way to solid flooring again as Mr. Tark comes into view on the platform, smiling.

  CHAPTER 30

  Endurance and Survival - Part Two

  "Miss Ripley, Mr. Wright, and Miss Dyer…you three have been making quite a name for yourselves around here already," Mr. Tark says, surprised, and the hairs stand up along the back of my neck. Liddick laughs and turns to face the rest of the class.

  "Thank you, thank you all… I don't know about the ladies, but I'll be signing autographs in the student center at the end of the day, if you insist," he says, a huge grin spreading over his face as chuckles erupt around the room. He looks over at me, and I know he's trying to take this bullet all by himself once I see Mr. Tark's golden eyes narrow, but not a chance.

  "We've just been trying to do our best, Mr. Tark," I say a little too abruptly. The giggles die down, and Tark's eyes dart from Liddick to me, then back to Liddick before turning to look out over the group.

  "Someone tell me what happened here," he asks, causing everyone to stare at us as we take our seats along the bench again. I start to feel hot now, and I don't dare move. After what seems like several minutes, Myra finally breaks the tension.

  "Vox learned the strangers' language," she answers, smiling, "and Jazz did too, but in a different way."

  "Explain," Tark presses her, folding his arms in front of him and curling a finger under his chin. "What was different about the way the two ladies worked this situation?"

  "They weren't the only ones. Liddick knew what was going on too. It was all three of them," Avis adds, and I can't help but smirk when I feel Liddick's sincere lack of appreciation at being pulled back into this, despite how heroic he just tried to be.

  "But how? How did they just know?" a wiry boy with neatly cut, red hair and an exasperated clip in his voice asks. Mumbles begin to ripple across the room, and everyone looks at us accusatorially. Tark sighs and presses his lips into a thin half smile as his hunting eyes drift to the upper corner of the room. I follow his gaze, but only see more pipes and tubing. "I'm glad you asked that question, Mr…?"

  "Parker, from Seaboard South," the boy answers.

  "Mr. Parker," Tark nods and squares his stance. "As you will soon discover, some of you are Empaths—You're either Projectors, Receivers, or the best of both worlds, Readers. Some of you are Coders, Navigators, and some of you simply have the misfortune of being hard to kill; that's why you're here. My job is to teach you how to cultivate these skills, how to adapt to situations, and how to overcome obstacles," he says, scanning the room again. People begin looking around at each other, and I feel the tension start to die down.

  See? He just said we're not the only ones. Liddick says in my head, and I nod to him.

  "Some of you probably feel completely out of your element," Tark continues, folding his hands behind his back again as he steps down from the platform and makes his way over to us. "Suddenly, things are happening to you here, and you feel out of control," he continues. Liddick doesn't move, but I can feel him bracing in the seat next to me as Tark walks past us, turning his head over his shoulder to keep us in his peripherals. "But you will need to transcend your environment."

  Vox is several seats down, and I feel a sense of calm from her when I look over, though it's not right. I try to focus on her more, to study her face and see what this scrambled feeling I have about her is, but her expression reveals nothing, not even as Tark gets closer to her.

  He has to be a pusher. Can you feel him trying to intimidate us? I think toward Liddick.

  He can try, but he won't. Especially not her, he replies in my mind.

  But she's afraid. She's projecting calm, but I can tell she's afraid.

  I know. I can feel it too, but it doesn't matter as long as he doesn't know that.

  "And some of you thought you knew what you were doing, but have discovered that you don't know the half of what you can do, and you won't unless we put you in situations that make your subconscious see the need to figure it out." Tark continues, stopping now in front of Vox's seat and seeming to speak directly to her. I watch her closely and can feel her calm eroding. It pushes against my ribs like it's trying to get out, but can't as she struggles against it, trying to pull it back into herself because she doesn't want to seem afraid. She straightens her back and tosses her dark red hair, lifting her chin in a gesture of casual defiance as a tolerant smile starts to make its way across her face. Her yellow eyes gleam against her pale skin, but there's no mistake, not after I felt her nerves back on the beach and again just now; she's terrified. I have to do something.

  "But why?" I blurt, getting to my feet—the words having come out before I'd actually planned what to say or do next. He turns from Vox slowly, takes a measured breath, and settles into a smile as he tilts his head toward me. "Why are these abilities just coming out in us now if they're so natural? Why here?" I ask, even though I already heard the answer in Ms. Reynolt's class.

  The room begins to stir again after my question, and I want to look away from Tark, to look at the floor, at anything, but just like the native man with the scars, I know that I can't risk breaking eye contact with him.

  He must see right through me because his smile suddenly peels back into a menacing grin, revealing bright white teeth in sharp contrast to his dark skin. He laughs low in his throat, and I can't help but see him as a panther—everything about him from the way he walks, long, measured, and smooth steps, to the way he stares not at me, but into me, his golden eyes like Vox's, intense and unblinking.

  "Why…" he says, taking a step toward me, then another. I won't sit down, I won't look away, I think as he slows down noticeably with each step until he's about four feet in front of me, then three, then two, then leaning in as if any minute he will pounce and rip my throat out. I feel like crossing my arms over myself, but I suddenly remember Ms. Wren's advice about body language being telling, and stop. I don't want him to think for one second that he intimidates me, so I try to stand as tall as I can, feeling my shoulders square as I put my hands on my hips like Ms. Wren explained. Look bigger, and you'll feel bigger, she'd said, and when I feel the small tickle at the base of my skull, I know that Vox is helping to stoke this particular ember. For once, I don't mind her pushing me.

  He's testing you. Just wait him out. He's not going to do anything to you. Liddick's voice is barely audible in my head because I can't spare any concentration to make it stronger. "Why are your abilities coming out now…" Tark repeats my question like he's trying to taste each word in his mouth.

  I bite the side of my lip to keep my voice from trembling, then force an answer out. "Yes. Why are these abilities here all of a sudden, and why now?" I insist. Mr. Tark's eyes seem to flicker like two small flames, but then his toothy grin softens into a genuine smile. At once I feel a deluge of relief pour over me, and I let out the breath I'd been holding.

  "Well done, Miss Ripley," he says very quietly, and in just that second his eyes transform from predatory to warm and kind. "And that's a very good question," he says to the group in a louder voice now, still low, but no longer with the intimidating reverberation it had.

  What just happened? What was that? I think in an avalanche, hoping Liddick has answers.

  I think someone else is watching us, he replies, and I look over to him. Watching you.

  Tark turns on his heel to face the class while clasping his hands in front of him, then starts making long, slow strides.

  "Why have some of you been able to feel what others are feeling
ever since you arrived? Why have you been able to influence others, or to suddenly see numbers in your peripheral vision that enable you to do calculations and run scenarios in your head instantaneously? Why have you been able to sense the right direction and calculate perfect trajectories even though you have no point of outside reference, and why can you suddenly talk to each other without even saying a word?" he asks, his eyes scanning the room. "Gaia Sur is designed to bring out the best in all of you, to maximize your potential. Your latent abilities have only begun to develop now because you're surrounded by like minds, like sensitivities, and there is strength in numbers. If you have not experienced anything significant yet as the result of your nanite catalysts, you will. You're all here because your careers need you at your best, and like it or not, my job is to show you what that looks like."

  CHAPTER 31

  Cross Curriculum Interface

  I leave Endurance and Survival with my teeth together, not out of anger, but stress, and move as quickly as I can through the crowd funneling out of the room. The final class of the day is Cross Curriculum Interface, and I don't think I can do it—not after this last class, at least not yet. I break away from the quickly moving current of students once we get to the student center and walk toward the window, then press my cheek against the cool, clear material that has to be something other than glass. I close my eyes, trying to listen to my breathing, another strategy Ms. Wren taught us. Remembering this about her makes me think of home, of my mother and Nann, and then of my father. It dawns on me that I never told Liddick about the Leviathan's capabilities like I'd so adamantly planned to just a few hours ago, and I shake my head in frustration. What is happening to me? How could I forget to tell him something like that? I wonder, and slowly let out the deep breath I'd taken in a few seconds prior.

  I already know, Rip, stop beating yourself up. You were busy negotiating with beach Fringe, remember? Liddick's voice in my head makes me smile against the window, but I can't bring myself to open my eyes until I feel his hand on my shoulder turning me around.

  "Liddick, that was—"

  "I know. The Navigators or Coders can deal with that split show next time," he says, throwing an arm around my shoulder, which I don't shove off like I usually do when he tries to do this in public. "One more class, and then we're free," he says, raising his bracelet cuff to his chin. "Cross Curriculum Interface," he says, and a blue arrow guide appears.

  "The Leviathan—" I start to say, but he waves me off.

  "I know. And we'll see it firsthand in a minute from what I hear," he says as the guide arrow weaves us through a few more corridors, then stops in front of another amphitheater style classroom with a center stage, but everything in here is metal, a brushed nickel stage area, steel beams, even the rows of benches and the walls are a smooth metal finish. I look around at the monochromatic surroundings in search of the teacher, but everyone is wearing a blue jumpsuit.

  This is the splittest room yet, I think toward Liddick as we enter, but he doesn't reply. "Isn't it?" I ask him aloud, and he looks at me, surprised.

  "Isn't what?" he asks, confused.

  "You didn't hear me?" I ask. He understands immediately and looks at me hard.

  "No. Did you just hear me?"

  "Just now?" I ask, and he nods. I shake my head. He pulls me back into the corridor several feet from the door and scans my face.

  I'm going to contact my friend tonight with or without Hart's help, I hear him say in my head. When he sees that his message registers, his face relaxes.

  How? I ask him, but he just shakes his head.

  Not enough time to talk about it now, and the room is blocking us, so I'll explain later tonight, he thinks. As if in punctuation to Liddick's sentence, a low bell sounds once, and then again to apparently signify the start of class, or maybe just the dramatic entrance of the teachers, who walk into the room in a single line from behind a metallic divider. We quickly walk back into the room and find a seat.

  There are five teachers, including Dame Mahgi from the Biotransfer class, Ms. Reynolt from the Empathy class, Mr. Tark, and two more I don't know. The first isn't as tall or as athletic as the second, but he's fit, if a little wiry. He seems to be too young to have streaks of silver running through his thick black hair, which falls into his eyes as he nods at some students he seems to know. He pushes a hand through it, then hooks his thumbs on the pockets of his yellow jumpsuit. The other teacher is in red with green bars on his shoulders, very tall, and athletic, almost as athletic as Mr. Tark. His intense blue-eyes stand out in contrast with his short, closely cropped white hair, though his face is relatively young, maybe early 30s, with angular features like Tieg's.

  "Who are the last two?" I ask Liddick, who just shakes his head.

  "The one with the white hair is Dr. Denison, the Nav and Technics teacher," Avis says, suddenly leaning over my shoulder from nowhere like the ninja spider monkey he is. "Arco, Jax, Joss, Pitt, and what's his brother's name, Tiger or something? We all had Denison this morning in Systems Navigation."

  "He doesn't look old enough to be a doctor," I whisper back to Avis, who nods in agreement.

  "I know, but he's 63!"

  "NO—" I say, catching how loud I am, then sink into my seat. "No, he's not. There's no way."

  "Nanotech, baby," Avis says, working his mouth into a satisfied smile and nodding as he leans back.

  "Good afternoon. Please take your seats," Dr. Denison says, his voice leveled and warm. He takes a few steps away from the other teachers and puts his hands in the pockets of his red jumpsuit until most people are seated, then, begins talking again. "This class is called Cross Curriculum Interface. Its purpose is to teach you about your individual predispositions, as well as the biological enhancements currently at work to hone them. My name is Briggs Denison. I teach Systems Navigation, as well as Biodesign here at Gaia Sur. You may already recognize my colleagues, Dame Mahgi, our Biotransfer and Culture mentor, Luz Reynolt, our Empathy and Psychosomatic Systems mentor, Callum Stryker, our Encoding and Infrastructures mentor, and Skellik Tark, our Adaptations mentor. We would all like to welcome your cohort to campus," he says, and bows slightly at the waist to the room, the other teachers following his lead.

  "If this is our whole first year group, the rest of us from Seaboard North must be in here somewhere—Fraya, Sarin, Myra…" I whisper to Liddick, who begins scanning. "Jax and Pitt are over there," I say, gesturing to the other side of the class, but I can't find anyone else in the sea of faces.

  "You will be assigned a sub-cohort in here—a team made up of individuals who will each bring a diverse and necessary aspect to Gaian society, which is to say, the emerging global society, considering our sister campuses operate in much the same way." Denison continues, waving his hand to bring up a slideshow that takes up the whole back wall, floor to ceiling.

  The first picture is of people our age sitting around a table in blue jumpsuits like ours, one of them talking and gesturing to something on the projected green lined, digital grid in the middle of the room, and the others looking transfixed. The next image is of a medical bay with two students performing an operation of some kind while another in their group has his eyes closed in concentration as he touches the temples of the unconscious patient. The next picture is of three students sitting in front of their own panel of levers and buttons and a huge window that peers out into darkness.

  "Is that the Leviathan?" I ask Liddick, who shakes his head and shrugs.

  "Whether your career fields involve extensive travel or not, you will all be skillfully prepared in cultural interaction. No one career field is an island unto itself. You will see how you are all connected, how it is necessary for you all to work together to perform certain duties, and how vital each one of you is to the successful operation of the machine that your unit will become," Denison says, clasping his hands in front of him as people begin to mumble and look around at each other. "Until graduation, your sub-cohorts will become pod teams of roughly 8-10
members, as your advisors may have already explained to you. You will serve a territory of roughly 700 homesteads or State residents within a 2,000-mile expanse, and if a crisis occurs, your pod may be mobilized to combine with other pods to deliver first responder care, or to open a line of dialogue with State liaisons, and much more. The teams are the grounds upon which the State began building Gaia nearly a hundred years ago, and they are what has kept our society thriving ever since."

  "Is that permanent? All the traveling like that?" I ask Liddick again, and this time he looks at me under raised eyebrows.

  "I've been here just as long as you, Riptide," he says, smiling to one side. I tilt my head toward him and exhale. The one time I actually count on him to know as much as he acts like he does.

  "After graduation, you'll be placed into a career field that best utilizes your honed skill sets, the foundations of which you are coming to understand already. Rest assured, you are in no danger whatsoever from your newly realized abilities—they are part of your natural biology. Much of what you can now do has manifested because similar energies on campus have organically helped to stimulate the nanites in your systems, which in turn act as enhancers to help you learn how to hone your new skill sets. This is the way we prefer things to happen, but understand that the nanites have not created anything that was not already present within each of you. That said, if your proclivities have not yet broken through, don't worry, they will. Please access your student profiles and follow the prompts at this time to discover your official classifications." Denison raises his forearm to demonstrate, and a blue digitized 3-D screen appears in front of him. "As you can see, I am a Hybrid, Classification Coder and Navigator."

  I look at Liddick, then think better of asking him anything else as he looks at me expectantly. I turn around to see what Avis thinks instead, but he is already pulling up his mainframe profile. A beam of blue light scans his eyes, and a huge smile spreads across his face as a small 3-D screen appears just above his bracelet.