Gerald put his hands on his hips, a little winded. “Um, Trahzi, could you maybe step two paces to your left,” he called out.
Trahzi shivered with disgust, then stepped over, keeping her back to him.
“That’s good,” Gerald said, checking the sights again. “Now, you’re sure this thing won’t hurt her?”
The coach shook his head. “Son, from the war stories I’ve heard, I’m not sure the surface of a star would hurt her.”
Gerald looked around, and everyone nodded. Taking a deep breath, he put his finger on the trigger and fired.
The weapon itself made no sound, only the crack like a bullwhip as the slug of metal struck out of the barrel into the crisp morning air.
Faster than thought, Trahzi turned around and held out her hand. The bullet struck an invisible wall, which rippled in a rainbow of colors, absorbing all the energy until there was none left, and the round fell inertly to the ground.
Several of the students gasped at the display.
Trahzi disappeared in a flash of flame, then reappeared alongside him.
“That,” she emphasized, “is why we are worthy to exist. We are Trahzi. We do not know pain, we do not know fear. You are human, what can you do?”
Gerald swallowed hard. “I can make bubbles with my spit.”
Cha’Rolette put her face in the palm of her hand.
Trahzi stepped closer. “Do you see you now how weak you really are? Do you see how hopelessly, completely, hilariously outmatched you are?”
“Vividly.”
Trahzi licked her black lips with a black tongue. “If it was up to us we would cull your life at this very moment. Cut you out like a cancer.”
“Well then, I suppose I am very glad that it is not up to you.”
Trahzi sneered, steam coming out of her nostrils. “Coach, all of this frustration is causing us to lose control of our temper a little...”
“This is a little?”
“We request permission to go relax inside the academy reactor and skip the rest of today’s lesson.”
Coach Bar-gheiis wiped the sweat off of his brow. “Trahzi, as far as I’m concerned you can skip the rest of this quadmester.”
As she walked away, Gerald noticed that the other students were glaring at her with the same sort of utter contempt they normally reserved only for him.
“Cursed demon,” Tomar whispered to himself.
Occonflen saddled up alongside Gerald as she reapplied her lip gloss.
“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“Of what?”
“Everyone hating you all the time?”
“Well, it’s not like I prefer it. But, you do get used to it after a while.”
There was a faint little snap. “Oh, my mirror cracked.” She shook her head and applied more rouge. “I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”
Gerald looked at her sadly. “You’d be amazed what you can live with.”
* * *
Director Nathers leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers. It was a good fallback position. Emperor Qetimong would sit that way a lot when addressing the public, so most people were fairly familiar with it.
It was a position he felt made him look attentive and confident. With the entire school having been down for days, he needed to reassure the clients that all was in good hands.
Surprisingly, etiquette was the most difficult part of his job. Every world had its own scruples and taboos, and little of it was intuitive. I mean, how can you guess what body language an amorphous cloud of gas might find soothing and which it might find offensive?
Nathers’ own people communicated mostly through scent, a habit he had forced himself out of over the years after being told that his traditional Freteonite greeting smelled like feet.
The conversation before him was particularly vexing. He was talking to what appeared to be a finely crafted pink sculpture of himself, as if someone had commissioned an artist to make an exact replica of him out of cotton candy.
Zurinites were like that; they preferred to take the form of whoever they were speaking to, in order to make them feel more comfortable. Unfortunately, it tended to have the opposite effect. When his doppelgänger templed his fingers as well, Nathers tried to hide how creepy he thought it was.
“I want you to understand the risk I am taking,” his pink twin went on. “The Bertulf are beating their war drums. The shipyards they have leased are operating at full capacity and they’ve already built up their forces well beyond what the treaties allow.”
“Surely you don’t think they mean to attack you, Senator.”
“We both know they only joined the Alliance because of the threat the ArchTyrant posed to their little empire. He’s been gone a long time now, so there’s no longer anything to keep them in check.”
Nathers nodded sympathetically. “What happened to your people is a tragedy. We can only be grateful that your kind is able to reproduce so quickly when the situation calls for it, else there might be none of you left by now.”
The pink sculpture looked away solemnly. “Once, my people lost everything because we were too trusting. Never again, that is our motto. Our new homeworld is right on the border with Bertulf colonies, so we are taking this matter very seriously.”
Nathers cupped his hands. “So what do you plan to do?”
His copy did the same. “I’m making a presentation to the senate later on today. I’m sure the Bertulf will be less than pleased with the evidence I’ve found of their military buildup.”
Nathers scratched his chin. “I think I see your point. Sending your daughter away at such a tense time politically makes her safety a real issue.”
The pink clone also scratched his chin. “You do see my point. I lost her once, I’m not going to lose her again. I wouldn’t put it past those bone-lickers to target my daughter as a political hostage.”
“But daddy, I want to go!” A feminine voice complained from off-screen. “If he’s there then I want to be there!”
“Not now, Honey, daddy is haggling with the nice administrator.”
“But daddyyyyyyy!”
“I said not now, Zurra! Now go clean up your litter bucket!”
“Awwwwwwwwww.”
Nathers failed to keep the grin off his face as the senator tried to compose himself. Her grades were below the normal cutoff, of course, but her father was one of the most powerful politicians in the Alliance, and right now the Academy desperately needed a healthy injection of prestige, so he was willing to look the other way.
Senator Immestria returned to task. “I’m concerned about the Bertulf. Word has reached me that they have an agent in your school already.”
Nathers tapped his fingers together. “Ilrica Faolan? No, she’s just a student, albeit a fairly poor one. Besides, Bertulf don’t use spies. They never have. They can’t; it would violate their entire warrior code. Everyone knows that.”
Senator Immestria’s eyes narrowed. “A Bertulf is a Bertulf. I don’t trust them and neither should you. Just having one of those wolves in your school makes it less than safe for my daughter. Not to mention the fact that pirate attacks around Central are becoming more and more frequent. There have been, what? Three this week?”
Nathers leaned forward and rested his hands on his desk, a position he was taught looked very sincere. “Well, I’ll give you the honest situation. We’ve got eighty percent of the academy functions up and running again. The defense grids are back up. I can personally assure you that there will be no danger to your daughter or any of the...”
A second window flickered to life with Engineer Valan’s mucousy face it in.
“Sir, we’ve got a problem.”
“Ugh. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a call?”
“This won’t wait. Something broke out of the zoology lab.”
Nather’s looked at senator Immestria and forced himself to smile. “Well, I’m sure our security staff can take care of...”
; “No, they can’t,” Valans insisted.
Nathers’ eyebrow twitched. He glanced back at Senator Immestria, who looked furious.
“It’s called a Vlukkia,” Valans went on. “It’s the kind of thing that could kill five scientists without even leaving its jar.”
Nathers’ composure snapped. “Well, if it is so blasted dangerous, why do we even have one in the first place?!”
“Professor Inters’ia uses it in her psychic defense course. Normally the thing is kept in the vault under stasis. When the virus brought the systems down the backups should have kicked in to keep the fields up, but they didn’t.”
A big drop of sweat rolled down the side of Nathers’ face. “Um, Senator, I’m going to have to call you back.”
“Don’t you dare hang up on...”
Nathers waved his hand and the window snapped shut. “I want the school evacuated immediately. Have the teachers escort their classes to the quad per the emergency plans.”
“Yessir.”
“And I want your sock collection gone by the end of the week.”
“Wait, what?”
“You heard me.”
His long tongue hung down in disappointment. “But... why?”
“Because you may have just cost me a new student. Use a private line next time, you croaking idiot!”
“Hey, that’s racist!”
* * *
In exasperation, Ms. Stubbs ran her fingers through her black hair, which was now sticking out in all directions. One of the brass buttons on her vest popped off and clattered to the floor. “Mr. Dyson, sometimes I swear you do this on purpose.”
“I really don’t,” Gerald defended as he stood at his desk. “In fact, I’d prefer to keep a lower profile, truth be told.”
“The school pledge is a tradition, you should feel honored to be a part of it.”
“I know that, and I am flattered, but my religion does not allow me to make promises or oaths to other organizations.”
The students groaned collectively.
“It’s not like it’s even legally binding. Just say it but don’t mean it,” Tomar suggested.
“I cannot, that would be a lie.”
“But no one would know it was a lie.”
Gerald looked at Tomar. “I’d know.”
“Can we please begin the lesson?” Aryc pleaded.
“Why? This is the most fun I’ve had all day,” Ilrica chuckled.
Ms. Stubbs held up an angry fist as if ready to strike Gerald, but the lights in the room changed to red and the intercom came up.
“Teachers and students,” the friendly computerized voice said pleasantly. “We have an intruder on campus. Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the evacuation tubes per safety protocols.”
“What the trog is this?” Tausay asked.
“Is this another drill?” Kzoyohaan wondered.
Gerald was knocked down to the floor as his desk and much of the back wall reshaped themselves into shielded evacuation tubes.
“Okay, class, you heard the nice disembodied voice, let’s get into the tubes,” Ms. Stubbs urged. The students lazily began to gather their belongings.
“Just what kind of intruder is this?” Gerald asked, picking himself back up.
“A Vlukkia,” the computer responded.
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the students dropped their belongings and sprinted to the back of the class. Some screamed, others clamored over their classmates to get to the tubes first.
“Is that bad?” Gerald asked as students shoved him aside and ran past him.
Ms. Stubbs held up a finger as she shuffled up to the mass. “Be careful, students, one at a time.”
She was ignored as panicking aliens from dozens of different worlds shoved past one another. “Let’s not do anything we’ll regret tomorrow. Um, Mr. Dyson, could you stand watch at the door please?”
“Sure, but why?”
“Well, if it comes in here you can hold it off while the rest of us escape.”
Gerald raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the teacher’s job?”
“Well, normally, yes,” she admitted as she lined up to evacuate. “But, you see, this is a Vlukkia.”
The tubes opened and with a pneumatic whoosh the first group of students jumped in.
Gerald scratched his elbow. “Look, if this thing is as dangerous as you say, I don’t really see what I could do to stop it.”
“Oh, you don’t have to stop it Mr. Dyson,” she said as she pushed impatiently on the student in front of her. “Just... slow it down.”
Another whoosh and another group jumped in.
Gerald frowned, “Ms. Stubbs, it would seem that you think of me as disposable.”
“I’m so glad we understand one another,” she mumbled, pushing on the student harder.
Cha’Rolette hovered above the crowd, clearly offended. Really, Gerald, stop being so boorish. The man is supposed to sacrifice himself to protect the woman.
Gerald blinked as he walked over to the door. “Why would I do something so clearly against my own best interest?”
So you only do what is in your own best interest? How selfish you are.
Gerald peered out into the hallway, not sure what he was looking for. “And your insistence that I sacrifice myself for you just because I was born a man isn’t selfish?”
Shut up, Dyson.
As another group jumped into the tubes Gerald thought of something. “Is this message being broadcast everywhere?”
“No, just the classrooms, why?”
He walked back over to the group. “Because there’s a student down in the reactor room who isn’t hearing this.”
Tomar turned to Ms. Stubbs. “We need to get a message down there.”
A window and keyboard made of light appeared in front of Ms. Stubbs. She tapped away for a few seconds, but the symbols all went red. “I can’t; the comm-systems to that part of the school haven’t been fixed yet.”
“What about one of the robots?”
“Still down.”
“Doesn’t anything work around here?”
“Don’t complain, this is all your fault anyway, Dyson,” Entayta complained.
“How is this my fault?”
“I dunno how, but ever since you got here, everything’s been all frakked up!”
“This isn’t helping us, what about a telepathic message?”
Cha’Rolette closed her eyes and her ringlets glowed. Too much shielding between us and the reactor.
“Then we need to send someone down there,” Tomar suggested.
“Yes, Trahzi needs to be warned,” Gerald added.
“Oh, never mind then,” Tomar withdrew.
“What?”
“She’s a demon, just let her die.”
Gerald furrowed his brow. “How can you be so cold?”
Tomar scoffed. “After all she’s done, it’s better than she deserves. I’m outta here.”
And with that, Tomar turned and jumped down into the waiting evacuation tube.
“Oh my,” Ms. Stubbs said, placing her palms on her temples. “If one of my students gets hurt, I could lose my tenure.”
“You were willing enough to risk my safety.”
She ran her fingers through her frayed hair. “No offense, Mr. Dyson, but I really don’t consider you to be one of my students.”
“Ouch.”
“That’s a good point,” Kamanie added. “Can a Vlukkia ever hurt a Trahzi? I mean, you saw what she did on the field this morning.”
Cha’Rolette thought for a moment. Vlukkia are psychic predators. Trahzi may be physically powerful, but they don’t have any special defense against psychic attacks.
Ms. Stubbs turned back and forth, flustered. She shook her hands at her sides like little fins. “Um... Um... Um... what do I do?” Her watch band broke and it clattered to the floor. “Oh, I know. Ilrica, you’re a hunter, surely you could...”
Ilrica placed a hand on the tube and smil
ed, revealing a mouth full of ivory white fangs. “Sorry guys, but that would be a suicide mission, which is, sadly, not my area of expertise.” With a salute and a wink, she jumped down into the tubes.
“Well, grogs!” Ms. Stubbs swore.
“I’ll go,” Gerald volunteered.
Cha’Rolette’s eyes went wide. You can’t go.
“Why not? Just a minute ago you were saying that it is the man’s duty, weren’t you?”
It’s too dangerous. And what about you? Just a moment ago you were protesting being treated as disposable.
“This is different,” Gerald said as he ran over to the doorway.
How?
He smiled roguishly. “Because this time it is my choice.”
And with that, he ran off into the corridors.
Grrrff, that man is so infuriating.
Tulda smacked her gum. “But Duchess, you’re a telepath, why not just force him to do what you want?”
What, you mean like this? Cha’Rolette’s ta’atu glowed and Tulda slapped herself in the face.
“Oww! Yes, like that.”
Don’t you think I’ve tried? It doesn’t work that way. The closer you get to someone’s core values, the harder they are to manipulate.
Tulda rubbed her nose. “But, you just made me...”
That’s because you have the willpower of chewing gum. Dyson is different, his core is hard as a rock, and everything he does is intimately connected to it.
As Gerald ran down to the service elevators, Ms. Stubbs and the rest of his class leapt into the evacuation tubes, which sealed themselves behind them.
Gerald had the unnerving sensation of being alone as he walked out of the service elevator and into the outer shield wall. Little noises caught his attention. Skitterings and breathing at the edge of his senses. He found himself jerking at noises and jumping at shadows. Not knowing what the creature looked like made it all the worse. His classmates were immensely powerful. Anything that could make them run for cover was not something to screw around with.
A shield wall parted before him, and as it closed behind him, he suddenly realized that he really shouldn’t be touching anything in here. Breaking a door was one thing, but breaking a reactor could be cataclysmic. With images of mushroom clouds in his mind, he tucked his hands firmly into his pockets.
The room was dome-shaped, the walls crystalline, with veins of energy running through it. It reminded him of the arteries of aether running through the living planet he had seen in his vision, and he wondered if there was a connection between the two. The energy gathered at the center of the ceiling, where it cascaded down like a great blue and purple waterfall into the silvery distributor machines below. And in that waterfall he made out the clear outline of Trazhi. She had her legs crossed and her arms folded, as if in meditation.
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