Fallen Angels (Dystopian Child Prodigy SciFi) (The Unmaker Series Book 2)

by Casey Herzog

  Fortunately, very few people paid attention to him as he made his painful way across the building. Only after a few minutes and a few glances out of the tall windows on each wall he realized he was in a totally different structure than the First Term Building. This particular area seemed to house more facilities and was occupied by older students than the former; their behavior was clearly more mature than those he had seen exhibited by his fellow first termers. Dante tried not to look out of place, but he couldn’t avoid checking out each office and classroom he passed. It was exciting to say the very least.

  However, all good things must come to an end.

  “What are you doing here? You must be lost, kid.” The woman spoke in a condescending manner, as if she somehow owned the place. “Kid, I’m talking to you.”

  Dante ignored the woman speaking to him and continued on, now hurriedly looking for a way out before he was embarrassed by whoever she was. Come on…Chemistry Lab II, Weaponry Test Area, Section Master Office, Train Station 3 Exit…Dante couldn’t find the exit to the building and it was making him feel agitated.

  “Kid,” the woman began again, and he stopped and turned furiously.

  “Look, whoever you are,” he hissed, but then he stopped. It was Mya, Brant Albridge’s assistant who he’d met on the roof of the First Term Building. She had mimicked somebody else’s voice, clearly. She chuckled loudly and pointed at him.

  “You should have seen your face. Did I sound that bitchy? I’m sorry.” She put an arm around him and began to walk, forcing him to do the same. “You escaped from your room, didn’t you? Tsk.” She wagged a finger. “Bad Dante. Why didn’t you wait to get better?”

  “My classmates have been waiting enough time for me to recover, Mya. I must get back. No matter what, I must return to classes. I’m strong enough now.”

  Mya grimaced and took a deep breath. She seemed to think about it, but then conceded his point.

  “Very well. Let me get you back to your building and find you some new quarters.”

  “How do you know I don’t already have anywhere to stay?” Dante asked with shock.

  One of her eyebrows lifted amusingly.

  “I told you. I’m tasked with security within the University. What good would I be if I didn’t know things such as these? Now let’s go back, tough guy. You’re gonna show these people what you’re made of.”

  Dante had expected to be led out of the building and across the campus to his building, even if it was far from their current location. Mya looked like the type of person who would be extremely interesting company, so if they had to walk a long way he was willing to withstand the pain and effort to make it back to the First Term structure.

  He couldn’t have been more mistaken.

  The short-haired woman accompanied him for a minute or so on the path where he’d already been walking, before turning into a set of red doors that stood to one side, pulling him through behind her. There were quite a few people inside, and the cool draft of a tunnel space blew at him as soon as they took a few steps forward.

  “Are we taking the train?” he asked with amazement. He hadn’t been able to explore the University and its features yet, so it was a pleasant surprise to have the chance now.

  “Of course we are. Do you know how far away Newbtown — sorry, First Term — is? We’d be insane to walk it, although we typically tell newbies the train doesn’t stop there so they have to take the long stroll.” She chuckled, and they descended down a flight of stairs alongside other older students and staff.

  “How long does it take to arri—” Dante began, but the approaching howl drowned out the rest of his words. That was fast, he thought. All of a sudden, he was a ten-year-old once more, and his eyes were wide with amazement. The bullet train braked hard, albeit without a sound or sign of discomfort for the passengers. Some sort of dampening system, most likely. He was no engineer, but Callum and Frank had taught him well. “Well, nevermind.”

  They stepped inside the train, and the healer’s amazement only increased. Its interior was like something out of a Sci-Fi story: soft, red leather booths with screens above on each side for the passengers to watch while they traveled. Discrete, but bright blue, lighting illuminated the interior with a calming glow, and an interactive dotted map was currently glowing on one of the central stations. The main line — the one that they were on — had a regular polygonal shape, finally giving Dante some sort of idea of what the University’s layout was.

  Before he could point out the shape of the line, the doors closed and the train shot forward. He stuck a hand out to grab onto something as he sat down, and Mya laughed out loud. The train’s momentum hadn’t even shaken them.

  “This is extraordinary, Dante. You won’t even realize you’re moving on this train. Trust me, it can even go faster if needed, and you’ll feel like you never even left the station.”

  And just like that, they arrived. Dante stepped out, and they both emerged onto an empty station platform. Two more people exited the train and climbed the stairs back to the surface. The words EXIT ONLY shone in red on a sign hanging from the ceiling.

  “Does this mean first-termers can’t take the train from this building?”

  “Exactly,” Mya answered, as they began to walk up the stairs to the door that would finally take Dante back to his destination. “It wasn’t always like that, but too many abused it and thought they were here on vacation, touring the grounds rather than working. We removed their rights without a second thought.”

  Dante lifted an eyebrow.

  “What kind of weak-willed students were they? I would certainly protest against the campus authorities if something like that happened.”

  Mya stopped just in front of the old oak doors that led back to the long passage branching from the entrance hall of the building. This was the same hall Dante had walked along with Brant Albridge and the rest of the Chosen on his arrival, under the gaze of many surprised and envious students.

  “Dante, do you really think we just woke up one day and took their right to use the train away? We did it slowly, of course. First, we limited it to students not in classes. Then we gave them a timetable with the only times they could use it. After that, we changed the timetables and began to dole out punishments. In conclusion, Dante,” she said, waving the rest of the story away, “We didn’t just take away their rights in one fell swoop. We made the first term students relinquish them slowly; they gave them up without realizing it. That’s how you avoid rebellion.”

  “I see.” It chilled the healer to realize how well the students’ psychology was studied here at the University, and he hoped he could remain as random and unpredictable as possible since he wished to continue being free from control by those above him.

  “We can talk later. Somebody else will escort you the rest of the way. Good luck, Dante.”

  She opened the door and the healer stepped through.

  Only then did he see the excited crowd awaiting him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Simmer

  He looked futilely out above his cage and stared at the stars for the longest time. The soldier had seen many nights, but never really sat and admired one for years — not for lack of wanting, but because the sky was regularly too dark and polluted to study.

  There might be those who say that we of the new Earth have no time for looking up at the moon and stars; I disagree. We actually have all the time in the world, now that everything we knew is gone.

  Callum Thorpe breathed deeply and thought of Dante. It helped give his current situation some sense and logic, as well as protect his mental wellbeing. He had ended up imprisoned in this terrible place, but it had meant the boy had reached his destination. The University. What’s it like? Are they teaching him well? Has he encountered bullies? It couldn’t have been long since the kid had arrived, but Callum knew the first few days were crucial if he wanted to make friends.

  He laughed out loud and shook his head. The boy was like a son to him, and it
was showing. He’s a kid; he’ll manage. I should worry more about myself now.

  “Find something funny?” somebody asked from outside, and a tall shadow fell over Callum. His mouth tightened, and he turned his head to look at a guard who was standing right in front of the bars of his cell. “Share the joke, boy. I’m dying to hear it.”

  “Not now, come on…”

  “What did you say?” The guard clearly was of the bored and sadistic kind, Callum realized. There were only two types of custodians within the prison: the aforementioned sadists, who wished only to torment their captives until something interesting happened; and those permanently on edge who wouldn’t hesitate a second before putting any of the prisoners down for what they considered insubordination. This could anything from striking a guard to laughing at an inopportune moment. A time such as this, Callum thought. Thankfully, he’s not of the latter type.

  “I was remembering somebody — the sky tonight is beautiful, and it brings back memories.”

  The man stared at him for an awkward ten seconds, his brow furrowed, as he clearly computed thoughts in his mind and attempted to reach a conclusion and decision. Callum’s annoyance grew with every second, knowing that the man was trying to find a reason to hurt or humiliate him.

  Finally, the captor spoke up.

  “You’re never gonna see them again, you dumb prick. Get to sleep; we need you all rested for tomorrow.” With a satisfied smile and a turn, the guard continued his walk along the metal walkway. Callum couldn’t have been more relieved as he heard the man’s steps fade.

  I can’t wait until Fillmore’s plans are set into motion. Their escape was not a matter of if, but when. Of course, he also held a wild card that could be a plan B if things went south: The Whisperer.

  Callum sat up and stared across from his block to the one facing it. A powerful man knelt there in his coop, seemingly asleep. Wait, no. As Callum stared at him, the figure’s eyes opened. Or at least one of them did, as the other was a bionic enhancement.

  Russell looked across from his cage at Callum and their stares locked.

  They both knew the inevitable truth.

  Only one of them was going to leave this prison alive.

  Fillmore was not stupid. He had seen how the guards were looking at him earlier; the battle-hardened Coalition soldiers whispering hushed words behind their hands as they stared. Each and every one of them had at one point fought the Outsiders, and the fact that he’d been caught with alien technology made him worse in their eyes than even the thieves, rapists and mass-murderers he was locked up with.

  The truth was that he’d probably fly the ship again in a life or death situation, and he considered the final moments with Callum before they’d been shot down.

  Maybe he had mercy on them as he fired the ship’s guns, the captain considered. Perhaps it was me who unconsciously didn’t want to get into a protracted dogfight. He replayed and reviewed the fast-paced battle once more, but couldn’t find anyone at fault. He had lost the ship to the Coalition and they had both been locked up in this filthy prison; that was all there was to it.

  But things were going to change.

  He hadn’t gotten this far in such a dangerous line of work by going into missions unprepared. Fillmore had already gotten in contact with all of the other patrol guards in the prison and had begun to set a plan in motion. It wouldn’t be instant freedom, but it beat being stuck in a tiny cage for years until they were released. ‘Released’, fat chance.

  The captain sneered as he saw a guard pass by and shoot an ugly look at him. Just a matter of time, I suppose. They were going to attempt something; it was clear. The worst part was that even if he survived their impending attack, he would need to be smart and let it slide, at least as much as he could manage. However the guards wouldn’t think twice about killing him publicly if their private plans failed. I just need to stay alive, no matter how many times they try to kill me.

  Fillmore hawked and spat to one side of his cage. The patrol force didn’t answer to the Coalition, so he owed them no loyalty. They answered only to the authorities of the University, and those in turn to…

  No, keep those thoughts out of your mind lest the guards try to tap into them later.

  The captain had been a skeptic for years, but the alien arrival had changed everything. The war had caused all kinds of sick, evil technology to spring up out of nowhere, as if humanity had given up on being humane. He wouldn’t put it past the Coalition to possess mind-reading tech, especially at a prison like this one. It was suspicious how they’d all been thrown into their cages without even an interrogation. At some point we’ll be dragged away; I’m expecting it. I’m not worried about myself, but can I trust Callum and the other patrol guards? He was capable of killing anyone too weak to withstand torture, although Callum looked as strong-willed as he was.

  He thought of the plans that Brant Albridge and the Chosen had set in place to keep Universitas Terras autonomous. The Coalition was an obstacle, despite its involvement in constructing the university — its forces had complete surveillance over the lands in and around the campus, and that fact alone was worrying, considering what was coming in the near future. The patrol guard was being strengthened and increased in number behind closed doors, its numbers bolstered by the terminal year students of the University itself. A surprise attack would follow on the gray, civilian-killing bastards, but no details had been relayed down to him or his fellow captains yet. All for the best, considering my current predicament.

  A sudden alarm interrupted his thoughts, and Fillmore looked up.

  He narrowed his eyes to catch sight of something happening on the other side of the prison, but then he smiled.

  It’s already beginning.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Friend

  Rogue never felt the youth’s presence until he was standing between them.

  “That’s far enough, my friends!”

  Neither one of the operators infiltrating the complex needed an order or confirmation to react: anybody who isn’t one of us is an enemy.

  Shackle was the first to move, surprisingly. The technician threw himself to one side and pulled his handgun in a single, fluid movement, firing at the new arrival without a moment’s hesitation. Rogue moved a split second later, his off-hand throwing his blade up from its scabbard into his other hand’s grip, catching the strike of their opponent’s sharp knife on his blade before it could eviscerate him.

  Clang.

  Rogue rolled to the other side of the corridor, his blade in his hand as he stood and circled his enemy.

  “You’re good,” the young man teased. He was no older than twenty, a fellow with green eyes that shone with a strange glint in the dim light of the corridor. A knife was in each of his hands, and he was dressed in a tight suit of some sort of flexible alien-made material that cloaked him in the dark. “Quick thinking. You should both already be dead.”

  His smile turned into a furious grimace in an instant, and he charged forward at Rogue with a cry, slashing with both weapons at a speed that shouldn’t have been humanly possible. The tan-skinned man was forced to backpedal into the wall and slash wildly to avoid being cut open. This is the fastest enemy I’ve ever faced, he realized with simultaneous horror and respect. Shackle fired several times more when his fellow operative was out of the way, but the enemy spun his daggers around and — to both men’s dismay — caught the bullets in the air as if he could see them in flight.

  “What are you?!” Shackle hissed as he crossed the room with blades nestled between his knuckles. The technician was a lifelong boxer and martial artist, and he had seen enough. “Let’s see if you can block this,” he spat.

  His punches flew forward in quick succession, ripping holes and leaving long slash marks in the walls around the young, green-eyed man, but failing to hit him at all. Rogue threw himself forward with his blade and struck low before their opponent could find space to maneuver and counterattack. He cut something solid and co
uldn’t help but let out a breath of victory, but it was short-lasted. The youth kicked out at him — with the leg that Rogue had supposedly wounded — throwing him into the cloning room behind him and catching both of Shackle’s fists with his blades a second later.

  Rogue sat up awkwardly in time to see a grin spreading across the enemy’s face as he stared into Shackle’s eyes and shifted his feet. It’s over, the older operative realized.

  It was quick, at least. It was the only comfort that remained for Rogue as he watched his companion die.