by Hayes, Drew
“Good, then go get packed. I expect my documents as soon as possible.” Nick turned back to his current stack, ignoring Eliza and Jerome as they left the room. He needed to finish up with Washington, and get a jump on Oregon before they returned so that he’d be ready to start on Texas. There were so many records, though, and so many places his target could be hiding.
But he would keep on digging, because pulling this needle out of a haystack was something only he could do. The HCP was behind him; he couldn’t protect his friends in there anymore. So this was the least he owed them.
28.
It is one of time’s cruelest pranks that normal weeks tend to drag on endlessly; yet when there is something dreaded scheduled for a Friday, the days whip by at dangerous speeds. So it was that, seemingly in the blink of an eye, the seniors were gathering together in the gym for their monthly trial, all filled with a familiar combination of nerves, worry, and anticipation. Some were scanning their surroundings, searching for signs of the mysterious Heroes that were supposedly watching them. But if such entities were nearby, they were well-concealed. All the students could see were their professors lined up neatly behind Dean Blaine, who began to speak as the last of the seniors fell into line.
“Three weeks ago, a gang of Supers found their leader killed in cold blood. They blamed a rival gang and sought retribution. The police have done their best to handle things while the murder was investigated; however, two hours ago, all efforts failed and war boiled out into the streets. This is a situation that requires all hands on deck, as so many Supers fighting can cause an untold amount of damage and loss of life. You are the nearest Heroes who can reach the scene, and as such, it falls upon you to contain this situation. Each of you will be dropped into the field at random points, simulating where you were when the call came in. Once there, you are free to work with one another or go solo, whichever method you feel allows you to do the best job. When the test is over, you may be called upon to defend your thinking for this and all other decisions, so consider each action carefully.”
From behind Dean Blaine, Professors Pendleton and Fletcher both stepped forward, walking to opposite ends of the line of students. They began moving toward the center, depositing a small item into the hands of each senior they passed.
“We have strived to make this test as true to life as possible, save for the ways where we deliberately chose not to. As part of that, you will all need to get used to working with a communicator in your ear. Every Hero, from the second they don their mask until the moment they remove it, has access to our dispatch program. Aside from just giving assignments, it can be used to relay messages, provide information on targets, and inform you as to where you’re needed most. Whatever you hear from that communicator you can trust, and if it gives you an order, consider that to have come from the DVA itself. We’ll get into that further down the line, though; for tonight, the comms are just tools to practice with. Set them in your right ear, and make sure they’re secure. You can speak to everyone on the network by holding down the button sticking out of the side, or talk just to the dispatch center by tapping it once. While actual Hero models don’t require this, it’s still considered courteous to hold your hand to your ear while speaking on the comm, so others know what’s going on. Sort of a Hero shorthand, when you can manage it.”
Professor Pendleton handed the last of the communicators to Jill Murray, who had to slip her custom helmet off to fit it in her ear. Will had clearly made a lot of modifications to her suit since last year, the experience of seeing it tested in real battle having inspired loads of new ideas. It was hardly recognizable from the padded outfit with electronics sewn in that she’d sported as a freshman. Now it showed more metal than cloth and had taken on a sleek, dangerous appearance.
“Today, we are taking it easy on you,” Dean Blaine continued. “Your goals are to protect innocent civilians and incapacitate the gang members, in that order of priority. For anyone who doesn’t understand why that’s us taking it easy on you, I urge you to think long and hard about what you’re about to experience. Otherwise, when we take the kid-gloves off, you might not be prepared for what’s coming.”
Dean Blaine had to lay as much groundwork as he could before they got to that discussion. There was nothing harder than explaining to potential Heroes that sometimes saving people meant letting others die. If he could get even a few of them to understand it before it was spelled out, the discussion would go a lot easier.
“As this is a real-world event, there will be no lights distinguishing the Sims from one another. Sometimes, when we are dispatched to handle a contained threat, we have the luxury of knowing who is more dangerous. This is not one of those situations. If you ask questions, sometimes there will be answers, but the process of asking will cost you, and the civilians, precious time. You’ll have to make snap decisions, balancing fairness with force, all on the spur of the moment. It’s by no means an easy task, yet it’s exactly what you’ve been training for all this time. Use your head, keep your cool, and don’t let the chaos overwhelm you.”
It would, inevitably, get the better of some of them. All the screening and training in the world was no substitute for the real thing, and even this was a pale comparison. Still, it would show them their weaknesses, and with a year still remaining, some might be able to overcome those flaws. If they could, then they would be better, stronger Heroes for it. If not... well, that was why they usually admitted fifteen and only graduated ten. It made sense to have backups.
“There are two more things to cover before we begin,” Dean Blaine said. “First off, since this has come up before, let me assure you that your fellow seniors will be the only other actual humans on the battlefield. The civilians, no matter how well-crafted, are artificial. While it is your job to protect them as if they were real, we’ve had people try to stop the exam on moral grounds before, so consider this your disclaimer. Secondly, and far more importantly, Professor Fletcher will be down there to oversee the battle, but I would be remiss if I let you think of him as an all-encompassing safety net. This training is dangerous, make no mistake about it, because the work you’ll do is even more so. From this point on, your safety will largely be in your own hands. There’s simply no other way to prepare you for what lies beyond these walls. That is part of why so few students make it to this stage: it keeps us from having to send those who can’t cut it home in coffins. The Sims are built to fight and destroy, which is exactly what they will do until you stop them.”
Dean Blaine surveyed the eyes of his students carefully, looking deep into each pair. When he was younger, he’d stopped here to allow anyone that was bothered by the risk to leave voluntarily. After five years of getting no takers, he finally stopped bothering. The ones who’d come this far were so crazy, determined, or stubborn that not even the risk of death and bodily harm would dissuade them.
“The test is over when all of the gang members have been neutralized and the threat to the city is ended. Good luck to you all, and please, keep your wits about you. We’ll be watching.”
29.
Unlike the usual system of elevators that calmly dropped them off into training fields as a group, this time the seniors were shown to a room with five metal tubes that all sported heavy, latching doors. One by one they were put in, and no sooner had the door closed than the ground under them began to fall. The descent was not so fast that they were left hanging, but nevertheless they whipped farther down into the facility, the tubes taking corners and turns that occasionally let them see the edges of other tubes branching into other paths before finally coming to a halt. There was no sudden burst of light, only the same cold metal wrapped around them. Some of the students might have broken their way free out of fear that things had gone wrong if not for the soothing voice of Dean Blaine whispering through the comms in their ears.
“Please remain calm and wait until all other students are in place. Once everyone is positioned, your tube will open. At that point, please consider
the exam to have officially begun.”
The wait was worse for some than others. Those who’d been first in the tubes had to wait as four more loads were scattered across the unseen battlefield, left with nothing to do but stare at the metal walls and wonder what was going on outside. Time seemed to stretch as anxiety and excitement battled in each Super’s heart, the desire to prove themselves mixed with the fear of falling short. Finally, new words came in Dean Blaine’s calm voice.
“All students are in place. The exam begins now.”
And with that, a nearly invisible seam in every tube parted, giving the students their first glimpses of the stunning scene that awaited them.
* * *
Vince’s eyes were wide as he took in the battlefield, more struck with awe than fear. He’d seen lots of impressive artificial landscapes in the world beneath Lander: forests, warehouses, even miles of sprawling outdoors, but this somehow trumped all of them.
This wasn’t merely buildings clustered together to replicate what combat inside a town would be like. No, this was an actual city, or at least several blocks of one. Streets, bike lanes, newspaper stands, postal boxes, all of it was present, right down to the bright stars twinkling above them in the artificial sky. It was like Lander had vanished and he’d suddenly been plunked down in the real world. The sound of movement to his left snapped Vince from his appreciation of the surroundings, and he whirled around with lightning already dancing in his fingers.
Roy held up his hands and waved them, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Just me, Vince. My tube let out nearby, and I heard someone moving around.”
“Sorry about that. Still getting my—”
“Comms system test. This is Will Murray. Does anyone have eyes on the Sims yet?”
Vince jumped a bit at the voice, this one was a lot less soothing than Dean Blaine’s, but quickly scanned the area to see if he could spot any Sims. None were in the range of his eyes, so he was about to search for their energy signature when more noise came busting through the comms.
“Alice here, and I can make out three behind a red building. No civilians nearby, but they’re a little suspicious. Not fighting, just hanging out. I think it might be a trap.”
“I’ve got six pummeling each other over around… um… I guess that’s a pet shop. Oh, and this is Allen.”
More reports came in, and with each one, Vince realized they had a serious issue. No one knew the terrain, and the few who could offer street signs as markers couldn’t tell anyone how to reach them. It was a serious hurdle, but one they would doubtlessly face if they made it past graduation. Heroes were sent where they were needed, teleported in to stop crimes all over the country. There were bound to be countless instances of having to navigate an unfamiliar town, and that was assuming they even had the luxury of street signs. The class needed to find a way to pass along actual coordinates or they’d spend the whole exam fumbling about, hoping to find a situation where they were needed. Vince racked his brain, but came up empty.
Luckily, at least one member of the class had spent most of her life navigating without the luxury of roads or signs.
“Everyone, look up to the sky,” Mary’s voice ordered. “Those stars aren’t just here for ambiance. They’re tools for us to use. There’s a bright star toward one end of the horizon with three lesser ones framing it. Find it now.”
Vince scoured the heavens and quickly located the cluster Mary was talking about. It stood out a bit more than the others, though he wasn’t sure he’d have noticed it if he weren’t looking. Slapping Roy on the shoulder, Vince pointed up, and the larger man gave a nod. He saw it, too.
“As of right now, that star is north,” Mary continued. “Build a mental compass centered on that fact, and give all your instructions in terms of cardinal directions. Alice, what’s the location of the three Sims that you think are lying in wait?”
“Uhhh. One sec. Okay, they’re to the southwest, near the edge of the city,” Alice said.
“This is Shane. I’m pretty close to that area. I can back you up.”
Checking his location, Vince realized that he and Roy were to the northwest, probably not too far from Alice. He was about to offer to head over as well, but Roy beat him to it.
“Hang on, Shane. We can’t just pick them off as we find them. This one-spot-at-a-time shit is going to take forever,” Roy said. “It’s a gang war scenario; they’re going to be clustered up or in hiding. We need to know where the biggest chunks of their forces are so we can properly deploy. Chad, you have that listening skill that lets you find people, and Vince can…” Roy trailed off, shaking his head and blinking quickly. “Sorry, lost my train of thought.”
“That’s okay, I was about to hijack it anyway. This is Amber, and while you boys might be good at hearing and locating, you got nothing on me. Listen and learn: some of us spent our summer fine-tuning the lost art of echolocation.”
For a moment, Vince thought he heard a high-pitched whistle, but when he tried to focus, it was gone. Evidently, it had been enough to do the job. Amber’s voice came back on the comms, so smug it nearly dripped through the earpiece.
“We’ve got a lot of Sims, folks, so I hope everyone came to play. The direct south seems to be where most of the fighting is concentrated, with around eighteen of them battling it out. To the northeast is another cluster—this one under a dozen—and south of them is the third fight, the one Allen was reporting on. There’s also Sims spread across the city at random intervals, probably meant to charge in if they spot us. Also, every place I’ve mentioned so far has civilians, most of which are cowering near the fights, so nobody go in dropping area attacks.”
“The scattered ones are a problem, but those fighting pose the biggest immediate threat,” Chad said. “We need to neutralize those as soon as possible. Heavy damage and endurance go to the biggest fight. Those who are purely damage, handle the second smallest one north of Allen: put it down quickly then sweep downward to the one with only six. Anyone near that fight, jump in and keep it contained until the damage dealers show up. Everyone with abilities that can move civilians, pick a fight and go start evacuating. Let’s move, now.”
Vince and Roy both began to run, though the latter seemed to still be a bit removed.
“You okay?” Vince asked.
“Yeah… I’m good. Just sort of distracted for some reason. Like, do you think this is actually the best way to take on the Sims?” Roy asked.
“I think it’s better than arguing, and we all know I don’t have a head for strategy in the first place,” Vince admitted.
“I guess me either.” Roy shook his head one more time, then doubled down on the pace. “Come on. Let’s go focus on what you and I are good at: kicking ass.”
30.
Alice hung in the air, careful to keep distance between herself and the ceiling twinkling with artificial stars, since the rest of the class was now using it for guidance. From her vantage point, carefully concealed by the bulk of a nearby building, she could see the others scattering, heading toward the altercation where they thought they’d be the most useful at. Personally, Alice felt her own ability would be an asset in any of the three battles, which was precisely why she was waiting and watching before making a move.
Freshman Alice would have already zipped across the battlefield, arriving to be mostly useless and maybe haul a civilian or two out of harm’s way. She’d been impulsive, and, worse, had lacked a real sense of what her abilities could accomplish. But a lot had changed since then, the comprehension of her power being only a small part. Now she understood the value in waiting, analyzing, and thinking things through. Part of her gut still screamed that any minutes not moving were time lost, but the calming force of her judgment reminded her that it was better to strike once—and well—than to slap about ineffectually. She would see where the class was the weakest, and that’s where she would lend her aid.
So far it seemed like the fight to the east was the biggest contender for her
presence. While the bulk of the class was heading toward the largest brawl, Allen, Amber, Mary, and Selena were making a line right for the northeast battle that hosted a dozen Sims. The smallest altercation, the one on the eastern part of the city where Chad had asked for people to contain, had only Rich and Jill slowly making their way toward it. Rich might be able to bring a few down, and Jill had certainly upgraded, but they were going to need a helping hand to keep a lid on six Sims letting loose.
“This is poor resource allocation.” The voice came from a nearby roof, nearly sending Alice into a dive for cover before she realized it belonged to Shane. He stepped out from the alcove of a closed door, one she was positive she hadn’t heard open, and got into clearer view. “Chad’s a great fighter and a powerful leader, but he’s lacking as a tactician. Can’t blame the guy; he’s spent his whole life training to fight solo. Moving around troops is a whole other skill set.”
“If you have a better plan, you could have said something.” Alice floated over, landing softly on the roof’s edge.
“The only thing worse than bad leadership is broken leadership,” Shane replied. “Something my grandfather used to say. Chad’s plan isn’t a great one, but it isn’t terrible. What would have been much worse is if we’d spent ten minutes arguing about how to proceed while the mock city got destroyed.”
“What would you have done?” Alice asked.
“Split everyone into coordinated teams rather than let them assign themselves randomly. Chad has perfect understanding of his own abilities and where they’re best applied, but he sometimes forgets that not everyone else sees themselves so accurately. They make misassessments, both on what they can do and where they’re best used.” Shane peeked over the edge of the building, watching his classmates scramble below. “Of course, suddenly barking out orders like the ones I’d have to give takes a certain level of trust and respect, too. The kind that Chad has built up and I haven’t. But as it stands now, we’ve got too much force on one fight, about the right amount on another, and far too little on the third. I decided to even things out and fix Chad’s plan, but then I saw you floating up here and thought you might be interested as well.”
