XGeneration, Books 1-3: You Don't Know Me, The Watchers, and Silent Generation

by Brad Magnarella

  “Do you deny that her life was in danger?” He raised one of his wiry brows.

  Janis opened her mouth to protest, then reminded herself that he had seen her hoisting Agent Steel by the neck that day, cinching off her oxygen, rupturing vessels in her throat and lungs.

  (Blood is good.)

  Director Kilmer fluttered a hand. “But look, that’s in the past. Agent Steel’s present focus — her sole focus — is in training you.”

  “Is that what you call her daily humiliations?”

  “Let me ask you something.” He set the Coke can in the center of a black ceramic coaster, rotating it slightly as though trying to achieve some precision. “If you were to play capture the flag again — same teams, same circumstances as on the first day — do you think the outcome would be different?”

  Janis thought about Agent Steel’s review of the game tape and her teammates’ nodding heads, plus all of the drills she had put them through since. “Probably,” she conceded.

  Director Kilmer opened his hands toward her as though to say, Well, there you go.

  “But that doesn’t mean I can trust her.”

  “What will it take?” he asked. “Not just for you to trust her, but to trust us? To trust the Champions Program? I’m not going to mince words, Janis. You’re the most powerful psionic I’ve ever encountered. Mrs. Fern agrees.” His eyes glimmered with what appeared to be admiration. “With training, you could end the Cold War. You could remove the threat of nuclear annihilation that now hangs over the heads of billions of people. Consider that, Janis. You have a responsibility.”

  Even as shame stung her cheeks, she thought of something Mr. Leonard had said: No matter what they tell you, it’s not about Janis Graystone. It’s about your powers. It’s about their weaponization. Remember that.

  “What will it take to trust us?” Director Kilmer repeated.

  Janis cleared her throat. “I need to know what happened to the last group.”

  Kilmer sighed. “The history of the Champions Program is above my clearance — we’ve been over that. What little I do know has no bearing on the present. None whatsoever. I’m not hiding anything.”

  She studied his dark eyes. She probed around the field that protected his thoughts.

  “You just said I was the most powerful psionic you’d ever encountered. If I take you at your word, how can I ignore my feeling that the last group was betrayed somehow?” She caught something move beyond his eyes. “The thing is, you are hiding something.”

  Director Kilmer looked around then lowered his head toward her. “All right,” he whispered. “I’m going to tell you something, but you’re not to repeat it to anyone, do you understand me? No one. Not a soul.”

  Janis nodded, her heart slugging in her chest.

  He glanced around once more. “The last program wasn’t airtight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That Champions Program was the first, and those overseeing it had to learn as they went. The recruiting, the training — from what I understand, it was all done sort of ad hoc. The secrecy wasn’t what it should have been.”

  “Someone got to them,” Janis concluded. “Who?”

  “That’s all I can tell you. That’s all I really know. But listen, part of my reason for confiding in you is to admit that, yes, mistakes were made. But the Champions Program learned from those mistakes. Our protocols are tighter, our security stronger, the secrecy surrounding the Program airtight. Agent Steel and her team — they’d give their lives to protect you. That’s why she had to take such a strict line with you prior to training. I need you to trust me when I say this, Janis. Whatever happened with the last group will not happen again.”

  “Someone survived.”

  Director Kilmer leaned back, an eyebrow slanted in question.

  “It’s something else I feel. A member of the last group survived. They’re still alive.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.”

  “I want to talk to them.”

  “I would arrange it if I could, Janis. But any information about a surviving member is, again, beyond my clearance. I wouldn’t know where to find that Special, how to communicate with him or her…” When he shrugged, something moved behind his eyes again.

  He knows.

  “Fine.” Janis stood. “If you can’t tell me, then I’m going to have to find the answers on my own. We pulled the curtain back on this Program. I’m betting we can do the same with the last one.”

  “Whatever you have in mind, Janis, it’s a dead end.”

  We’ll see, she thought, and left.

  * * *

  Director Kilmer watched the door close behind her. He sat back, frowning. The condensation on the Coke can had begun to roll down its sides, puddling over the coaster, threatening the desk’s finish. He dropped the full can into his wastebasket and produced a handkerchief from the front pocket of his jacket.

  While he blotted up the condensation, Janis Graystone’s final words hung in the air like lead weights: We pulled the curtain back on this Program. I’m betting we can do the same with the last one.

  He felt his frown deepen. She was powerful. And with a little help, maybe she would learn things she shouldn’t.

  Can’t have that.

  He shook out the handkerchief before returning it to his pocket. Then he logged into his computer, typed out four lines.

  Say so long to your help, Miss Graystone, he thought.

  He hit the Send button.

  Down the street, the computer console in Scott’s bedroom began to flash with an important message.

  * * *

  That night

  11:40 p.m.

  “Hey.”

  Absorbed in her thoughts and the humid hum of insects, Janis started at Scott’s sudden voice. It had been several minutes since she had bug-knocked on his bedroom window and received his return signal. Now she watched him edge between the house and juniper bushes to join her, damp pine needles compressing where he sat. She guessed by his disheveled hair that she had awakened him.

  “Sorry to stop by so late,” she whispered. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “What’s up?” He drew his sweatpants-clad legs in.

  “I had a talk with Kilmer today.”

  “What about?”

  “The last Champions Program.”

  “Oh. What did he say?”

  “He…” Janis paused. Whether because Scott was still waking up or for some other reason, he didn’t seem engaged — not like he had been in the Grove the week before. She decided it was grogginess and pressed on. “He admitted that mistakes had been made — security breaches, from the sounds of it — but he stonewalled when I suggested a member of the last group might still be alive. That he or she might have information that would be useful to us.”

  “Hmm.” As Scott wrapped his arms around his knees, Janis sensed him drawing in on himself.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?”

  “Shutting down.”

  “Sorry.” He scratched his cheek. “I must have been in a really deep sleep.”

  “Well, I’ve figured out a way to get us to Tallahassee.”

  “You have?” Janis wasn’t sure whether she heard surprise, concern, or both.

  She nodded. “My sister’s boyfriend is attending a youth-in-government program up there this August. You know, where they pretend to run the state legislature. Anyway, we’ve got that weekend break coming up, and Margaret announced at dinner tonight that she’s going to drive up this Saturday to surprise him. You and I could go along. I haven’t asked Margaret yet, but I’m sure she’ll say yes, if for no other reason than to have someone to talk to on the drive.”

  “I don’t think we should,” Scott said.

  She tried to peer past his glasses, which were reflecting pieces of streetlight. “What do you mean?”

  “If Kilmer revealed that much today, maybe he’ll say more later. Maybe we just need to gi
ve him time.”

  “Time? Training ends in three weeks, Scott, and then guess what? One way or another, we’re all going to be at risk. Those who don’t pass training will be left to fend for themselves. And those who do will be contractually bound to this program, being used for God only knows what.”

  “What do you mean, God only knows what?” Scott sounded wide-awake suddenly. “We’re going to be fighting for our country, for the free world.”

  “That’s not what Mr. Leonard seemed to think.”

  Scott fell quiet.

  “My point,” Janis continued, “is that all we have right now is Kilmer’s word, and he’s not being forthcoming. He’s not telling us everything.” When she felt something in her chest constrict, she realized she was pleading with him. “I have a feeling this Trips can help shed light on the Program.”

  Scott remained still, hugging his knees.

  “Last week you thought it was a good idea,” she added.

  “I know, but…” He sighed. She didn’t notice Scott had been holding his arms rigid around his legs until she saw his muscles relax. “This is going to sound dorky, but the team phase of the training is important. When this is over, I don’t want any of us to have to fend for ourselves. I want us all to pass. I’m just worried that a side trip like this — now — is going to distract us.”

  “I see it the other way,” she said. “Not taking the side trip is going to be even more distracting.”

  A car appeared from the end of the Meadows, its headlights growing over the juniper bushes that concealed them. Scott ducked down, but the white glow of the beams filled his glasses anyway. The effect made him look fearful. A quick feel told Janis he was afraid. Within seconds, the car swept past. The lights disappeared. Scott looked around nervously.

  “What’s wrong? It’s not like they don’t know we’re talking out here.” Janis nodded toward the streetlight. “Candid Camera, remember?”

  Scott rose to his haunches, wiping pine needles from the backside of his sweatpants. “Maybe we should go back to bed.”

  “So that’s it? You’re out?” She tried to read his shadow-cast face. “What’s going on, Scott?”

  “Nothing.”

  Something cold brushed her heart. “Share everything. Remember.”

  He stooped down to kiss her cheek. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she watched him look back before slipping around the corner of his house. She listened to his window slide open and then rumble closed. A latch clicked.

  Janis remained where she sat, the nocturnal songs of insects filling the silence.

  The Program got to him.

  21

  Gainesville, Florida

  Monday, August 5, 1985

  9:44 a.m.

  “Sixty-two percent,” Gabriella said from behind him.

  Scott sighed and hung his head. It was his worst score yet — even going back to the first week of training. And the hacking challenge hadn’t even been that difficult. He’d quickly structured the task into eight subtasks. But from there, he’d been unable to focus. Data escaped him. Precious seconds bled away. The alarms had sounded with three full subtasks remaining.

  “Crap,” he muttered.

  Arms brushed over his shoulders, and a faint perfume grew around him. Slender fingers undid his chinstrap. Scott wheeled in his chair. Gabriella lifted the helmet from his head. She stroked the hair from his brow before setting the helmet on the console and sitting opposite him.

  “Sorry,” Scott said. “Guess I haven’t been sleeping so great the last few nights.”

  His forehead continued to tingle where she had touched him, but the rest of him felt hollow.

  She crossed her sheer legs. “Anything you’d like to discuss?”

  Lots, actually. But should he be discussing it with her? Scott thought about Janis’s visit on Friday night. He thought about the message he’d received from Director Kilmer earlier the same evening. The message had vanished from his console after he had confirmed its receipt, but the disappointment the words conveyed continued to pull on his stomach:

  Leaders lead, Scott. This business of seeking out former Champions needs to stop. Far from leading, you’re putting personal interests first and compromising the team. I expect better of you from now on.

  Scott looked back at Gabriella. “What if you really wanted to help someone, but the best way to help them was by not helping them?” He sighed and shook his head. “I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

  Gabriella’s glossy lips pinched into the shape of a heart. “It makes perfect sense, Scott. But it sounds like you already have your answer.”

  “But how do you make that person understand?”

  “You can’t. In those cases, the person has to arrive at the understanding on their own, I’m afraid.”

  But would Janis arrive at that understanding? She was convinced Director Kilmer was concealing the true nature of the Program, and Scott doubted anything short of meeting with an ex-Champion would convince her otherwise, even if it meant jeopardizing her inclusion in the Program.

  “The best you can do is lead by example,” Gabriella continued.

  Stay the course, she was telling him, and so will Janis.

  As he admired the features of Gabriella’s intelligent face — the sculpted eyebrows, the rich brown eyes, the high cheekbones and lush lips — a small part of him tensed with suspicion.

  They know your history, Janis had told him in the Grove. They know how badly you’ve wanted to be a superhero. They’re pressing all of those buttons.

  “And I have faith in you,” Gabriella finished. “After all, you’re a natural leader.”

  There was that word again: “leader.” Like his hero, Scott Summers of the X-Men.

  When Gabriella reached over to place a hand on his arm, the top of her blouse opened suggestively, as it had the last time. But instead of a tan cup, the lacy fringe of a white bra peeked out. Sweat leaked from Scott’s armpits and trickled down the inside of his jumpsuit.

  Face it, Scott, they paired you with someone you wouldn’t say no to in a million years.

  Scott pushed himself to his feet. “I, ah, I’m going to take a quick bathroom break.”

  “Do we have an understanding?” she asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

  As he stumbled past her, a look of frustration flashed across Gabriella’s eyes. The look didn’t last long, but it was long enough to tell Scott that she had seen her spell over him fractured.

  Which means Janis might be onto something.

  * * *

  Rolling beneath a torrent of laser fire, Scott got off two shots from his visor. The second pulse caught the white-armored opponent in the rear leg just as he was lifting it to take his next running step. Though the suit absorbed most of the blast, the kinetic energy was enough to upend him. The carbine spun from his grasp, and Creed sped in to collect it before it hit the floor.

  “Eat laser, bitches!” Creed cried. He stunned the downed man with a shot and an advancing attacker with another two before releasing a wild hail. The remaining three opponents retreated.

  “Yeehaw!” Creed whooped.

  Mirrored visors peeked around barricades.

  “Nice work,” Scott said. “But stay in control. We need you.”

  Creed sped from the return fire and found his own barricade. While medics collected the downed men, Scott looked back, his breath booming. His entire team was intact. They’d taken Agent Steel’s lessons from the past two weeks and were presently kicking butt.

  It also helped that he was feeling himself again. His resolution to help Janis cleared his mind. Before the session, he had told Janis that he wanted to talk afterward. When she asked him what about, he grinned, and she got the message: he was back in on the Tallahassee trip.

  She had returned his smile, her face transformed.

  “What can you do about their barriers?” he called to her now.

  “Let’s
see.” She frowned in concentration, one arm raised. He knew the challenge for her was not in exercising her powers — she could tear the room to pieces if she wanted — but in controlling them.

  “Creed, be ready with the laser,” he called. “Tyler, that magnetic field trick worked like a charm. We may need it again. Get ready to move, Jesse!” he shouted back. “We’re bringing you up for the final assault.”

  “What about me?” Margaret asked.

  What about her? Unfortunately, Margaret’s powers only worked in close, face to face. And none of their opponents were going to wait patiently, carbines at their sides, while she eroded their wills.

  “Um, hang back for now,” he called.

  Across the floor, the opponents’ barriers began to rattle. Janis twisted her outstretched arm, and the barriers came up. Exposed, the men in white suits dropped to their stomachs and fired from their new positions.

  Scott started to tell the others that they’d be safe as long as they remained behind cover, when their own barriers sank into the floor. Courtesy of Agent Steel, the playing field was suddenly level.

  Creed stood and fired back.

  “Hold them down while I access the system,” Scott shouted.

  He closed his eyes and, with the aid of his helmet, slipped inside. He navigated a confounding network of circuits until he was in the floor. From a distance, he heard Creed shout, and then Tyler. Lasers seared the air around him. Just need a few more seconds…

  There!

  Four barriers pistoned up from the floor, one right in front of Scott. He blinked and looked around. Creed and Tyler had already been removed from the field of play, but he and Janis were safe. Margaret, too. Jesse might have taken a shot in the leg by the way he was limping, but he made it behind a barrier.

  Scott ventured a look toward the other side. The opponents’ barriers were trashed. One of the men was being taken off by medics. The two who remained had risen to their feet, one running forward, the second remaining back to provide cover fire.

  Janis began to extend an arm, then hesitated, glancing over at Scott. “Barriers are all right, but people… That’s when I start to lose it.”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve still got a few tricks.”