Citadel (Book 1): Training in Necessity

by Clevenger, J.

  "No sir, but enough of them will. I can fire a lot." Bruce nodded. "The gas mask is pretty self-explanatory. The vest won't do anything for me today," he said, touching his chest, "but it's the same thing as the pistol. I'm going to have to wear it pretty much all the time, so I want to start getting used to it now."

  "Go on."

  "Um, I've got two grenades, a flash bang and fragmentation."

  His future instructor interrupted, "Why no tanglefoot bags? You're checked out on basic restraints."

  "No point." Bruce nodded, again. "Also, a shock baton."

  "Now that one, you're not certified in."

  "No sir, I had my first class last night but the movements are the same as the telescoping baton. Sones authorized it, as long as I keep it on the lowest setting."

  Bruce Richards just stared at him, his eyes probing, before he answered. "Shit. You really did figure it out." Hector watched as the man lost his confident posture, slumping in... Was that regret? "I'm betting you didn't tell Sones who you were fighting?"

  "No, sir." Hector answered, confused.

  "Go to Viewtube." Bruce paused, until Hector nodded to show that one him had done it. "Do a search for Intervention Prime, one three two three. That's in numbers, not words."

  "Yes, sir." A moment later, "It's a private video, Instructor Bruce."

  "Password is gloria non duret, all one word."

  The other him entered it then hit play. Exactly one minute and forty two seconds later, his jaw dropped. All of his jaws dropped. He looked up at Operative Richards. Hector felt... he didn't know what he felt.

  "I, I didn't know. I..."

  "National security. We don't let combat footage of Intervention Prime out. Most of the time, we don't even release their names. You can probably guess why."

  "I... what should I do? Forfeit, or...?" Hector couldn't fight him, not after he'd seen that.

  "No, he wouldn't want that. Just go on, like you would've if I hadn't talked to you."

  "What else did he do? Prime only comes out for Class Two and up, I know that much." Hector had tears in his eyes. He'd recognized the city. It looked different today, but it was still there. He'd grown up in a suburb of Carson City. His mother was still alive, bad off as she was. Neither of those would have happened if not for...

  "He did enough, Hector."

  Neither of them had anything else to say.

  "I apologize for interrupting, Deputy Director, but I'm afraid Trainee Hector and I have a match that's scheduled to start."

  It was him.

  "It's no problem, Senior Operative Juggernaut. We were done here. Hector, I'd like to go over some of your training requests, but that can wait until Monday."

  Hector couldn't answer. There was something in his throat. He just nodded, instead.

  "I've asked you before, please, I prefer Coach. Or just call me Achala."

  "I will, as soon as you call me Bruce."

  Hector understood how the Richards type felt. He didn't know if he could go through with the plan he'd had.

  "Come on Hector, Healer Andrew is waiting for us."

  "Yes, sir."

  * * *

  "Please enter the dome." said the healer. "You may begin as soon as you hear the tone."

  "Thank you, Andrew. Good luck Hector." Coach Achala was already wearing the same pair of gloves he'd had on when he fought Duncan. Hector watched him smile at them both, before putting on a white mask. It looked like a ski mask that had been tailored for him, no mouth hole, tight fitting with a pair of lenses over the eyes.

  Hector just nodded, unsure what to say and more than a little sick to his stomach. He put on his gasmask.

  They entered the dome through opposite sides. Hector stared at his opponent, the last man in the world he wanted to hurt. But… that operative, Bruce, had said that Achala would want him to fight. So... fine. He'd do his best. Outside the dome, Hector began to circle it, leaving behind new hims. When he'd completed the circuit, there were enough of him to give a full, panoramic view of the entire combat room.

  Hector didn’t watch himself fight during combat practice, would’ve counted as using his powers which was still off limits. They hadn’t let him watch anyone else fight during the initial rankings, presumably to keep anyone from getting an unfair advantage. But from what he’d been told by the healer at the time, it should be allowed now.

  He studied his opponent, noted that he wasn't standing still. The movements were small, far too subtle to be noticed from his position across the dome. Achala was swaying back and forth as well as making little circular motions with his arms. The only things perfectly still were his feet. That confirmed it. Hector had been right about his power; he wasn't a Strong type at all.

  Hector heard the tone. The match had started. He ran as quickly as he could, to the left and to the right, splitting off new bodies as he went. Coach Achala dipped into a pouch and flung a handful of the ball bearing things he'd used against Duncan. Hector watched, even as four of his six selves in the dome were cut down. These were smaller. Achala had been able to hold more of them and scatter them in a wide arc. Only the two most widespread Hectors, the ones who were also closest to Achala, had escaped injury.

  He split up again. Some of him continuing on, along the dome walls, others doubling back to concentrate on making more of himself rather than closing the distance. Coach Achala had abandoned the wide arcing throws in favor of more careful, targeted ones. He seemed to be concentrating on the Hectors that were getting closest to him and he hadn't missed yet. The little metal balls tore through Hectors' ballistic vests, and his chests, like they weren't even there. Then, they bounced harmlessly off the dome walls and fell to the ground.

  He judged that a few of him were close enough, so they raised their bean bag guns and began firing. Most were still too far for real accuracy, he needed to be within about twenty feet, but three hit. Achala, still throwing those little balls with devastating precision, didn't even flinch. The bags either burst or bounced off when they hit.

  "That's not supposed to happen." said several of the outside Hectors. "Those things are rated to stay intact through a ridiculous level of impact."

  Achala abandoned the throwing and ran forward. He struck several of the Hectors, still firing the useless bags at him, between him and the center of the room. Hector cried out. Some of him had been struck a glancing blow by Achala's arms or hands as he passed, one had been directly in his path. That one virtually burst apart as the coach moved through him, the others fell with shattered limbs or ribs. Achala stopped running when he reached the center of the room but he didn't stop moving.

  He gave a little flick of his wrists, then Achala was holding a pair of... jump ropes? The Hectors outside were too far to see in detail and the ones inside had their vision obscured by their gas masks. Each had a small handle with a thin cord attaching it to a weight about the size of a gumball.

  Achala spun them, one in each hand, in circles that never quite intersected but covered all of the area around him. The cords stretched out about fifteen feet. Every Hector within that area died in seconds, cut limb from limb as the cord or the weight passed through their bodies without resistance.

  Hector backed up, putting space between his selves and the man. Achala pursued, but couldn't move quickly enough to catch more than a few Hectors without breaking the rhythm of his spinning ropes. Hector set a few of himself to making replacements for those that Achala caught, while the rest of him switched from the useless bean bag rounds to the tear gas canisters.

  Achala dropped the ropes and ran to the nearest downed Hector. Even as the first muffled thump of a canister firing became audible, he'd stripped the feebly resisting Hector of his gas mask and pressed it against his own face. He ran from the spot, fumbling with the straps until the mask was able to stay in place on its own.

  "Damn. I really thought that would work." said the outside Hectors.

  "Uh... Hector?" called one of the other trainees. "Could you stop
the creepy talking in unison thing? It's really distracting."

  "Sorry." he said, careful to keep it to just one outside Hector. "First time I've had to concentrate this hard in a long time."

  Achala had retrieved his ropes and resumed the deadly circles. He was moving faster now, catching more Hectors, but still not fast enough. The outside Hectors let him see the field of combat despite the haze of tear gas beginning to fill the dome. Coach Achala was able to put down any of him that got too close, almost instantly, but he couldn't cover enough ground.

  Hector could make more of himself faster than he was being killed. He'd even been careful to keep a few hims out of the fray, so he still had a full supply of equipment. However, nothing he'd tried had been able to get through Coach Achala's defenses.

  Despite his earlier reluctance, Hector found himself desperate to break the stalemate. Well, he had two strategies left. Four Hectors armed and threw flashbangs at Achala. The rest closed their eyes, opened their mouths and covered their ears. In the enclosed room, large as it was, the effect was awful. Even the outside Hectors staggered back. But the disorienting effects faded quickly, for him, and then a dozen Hectors were charging the coach from all sides, stun batons extended.

  Hector had given up on any weapon that relied on impact or penetration before the fight began. The Viewtube videos he'd found, what must have been Achala Juggernaut's early career, had made it obvious they wouldn't work. The only reason he'd bothered with the bean bags was to check whether impacts from different directions would work and to keep Achala occupied while he spread out to fill the dome with enough of his selves that he'd be able to replace the ones lost to the man's irresistible blows.

  The stun batons looked just like the telescoping clubs that had replaced most cops' nightsticks. The only visible difference was a little button near the base. It sent an electrical current through the extended portion that was strong enough to put down a regular person. There was another control that could increase the shock, enough to affect the low end Strong types and maybe kill someone without physical powers.

  The charging Hectors had their batons set to the lowest level. It would be enough. Achala's power let him stop impacts but it shouldn't do anything to resist the flow of electricity. If Hector could get in a single blow, it should end the match. It didn't matter. Achala met the oncoming Hectors with his ropes and not a single one made it close enough to touch him.

  "Incredible." Hector was careful to keep the exclamation to a single outside self. "I knew his pain tolerance had to be off the scale, but the man's gotta be the next thing to blind and deaf right now. He hasn't even broken rhythm..."

  Three Hectors, far enough from Achala to be momentarily safe, pulled out the devices for his last plan.

  "Coach!" he shouted, "Please stop for a moment!"

  He let the ropes fall idle, though he kept up the little swaying motions. The three Hectors raised their arms. In one hand, each held a fragmentation grenade, the pins were in the other hands.

  Hector kept his voice loud, practically shouting. "I don't know if the dome's big enough that it counts as an enclosed area for one of these, but with three, I don't think it'll matter."

  "You're willing to kill me to win a training match?" asked Achala, his voice more curious than anything else.

  "No, sir. Kill radius is about fifteen feet, sir! But the injury radius is closer to fifty." Hector, all of him that were present, studied the man before him. "I don't think you're anywhere near as resistant to overpressure as you are everything else, but I've got more if I need them."

  Achala grew still, ceasing the constant, subtle motions. "No, you are correct about that." He stood straight, covered in Hectors' blood, surrounded by his bodies. "I yield." He stood, surrounded by Hectors' broken weapons and amidst a haze of tear gas, and he gave a little bow. "Well done, Trainee Hive. Thank you for the match."

  Hector heard what the Coach had said. He'd seen the difference in how he moved. Back then, there was an incredible liquid grace to his every motion. Now, Achala still had grace, but it was a controlled thing. Hector had seen the little trembles, involuntary tremors in his hands. He'd thought the difference was just age, but now he knew better.

  Hector knelt, like a Royal Knight to the Monarch. One knee bent, the other knee and his two fists touching the ground, his head as low as he could get it, it was a gesture of perfect respect and submission. At least, according to Hollywood. Hector hadn't ever been to England to see a knighting in person, couldn't ever go.

  "Ah." said Senior Operative Juggernaut. "He told you, then. Probably showed you that damned video too."

  Outside the dome, Hector heard Duncan's sneering voice.

  "So, did you put out yourself, or just have one of your clones do it?"

  The Hector he'd been speaking to turned around. "What?"

  "To get him to go easy on you. Did you blow him yourself, or what? Maybe a group thing?"

  Hector drew and shot him, three times.

  * * *

  Private Residence

  "I dunno if you've taken a close look at a good map or not, but on a global scale, three thousand kilometers isn't as big as it sounds." Hector told Isaac.

  "You're talking about King in Winter, right?"

  "Yeah. His area of influence, the region he froze when he got his Empowerment. Don't get me wrong, that's huge... but if it's actually centered on the North Pole, it's mostly water."

  "Didn't the guy say that was part of what had people so freaked out?" Isaac asked. "I mean, that much water changing to ice seems like it should've had some pretty bad effects on the rest of the world. I can see that being pretty scary."

  "You're right. There was a whole bunch of speculation at the time about that, the planet's rotation, something to do with the freeze and melt cycle of the Arctic Ocean and the polar caps, all sorts of stuff. But that's not what I meant. The only countries that were directly affected, that actually had cities or towns destroyed, were Russia and Greenland."

  "But he said that King in Winter was the reason Russia and Canada broke up. If Canada wasn't even harmed..."

  "That's what I meant, Isaac. I mean, there were probably some scientific research posts or something in the region, but in terms of actual population loss, Canada was pretty much untouched."

  "Hm…" Isaac took a moment to process, "so what about the other two?"

  "Russia had a couple small towns I'd never heard of before. Greenland took real damage, at least a dozen. But... this was nineteen twenty eight."

  "After Tyrant, you mean."

  "Yeah." Hector answered. "Not really an issue, at that point."

  "So if it wasn't panic over how much damage Winter did, what was it?"

  "Ever heard of Red Thursday?"

  "I'm guessing that's not anything like Black Friday?" Isaac replied.

  Hector smirked. "Not quite. It was about a week after the freeze. Three groups, I guess you'd call them terrorists or rebels, whatever, attacked more or less simultaneously. They killed government leaders, blew up power stations, that sort of thing. All over the country."

  "Whoa."

  "They used teleporters, phasers and Speed types to do a ridiculous level of damage. Combine that with how scared everyone was by Winter and the Tyrant... remember, no one knew their effects wouldn't spread any further yet, and that's where the real breakdown started."

  "Okay, so how come I've never heard of this?"

  "Isaac, have you ever actually done any research on King in Winter?"

  "No, I never really had any interest in Empowered stuff. Not until-" he closed his eyes.

  "Hey, it's cool. I know." Hector said. "My point is, this isn't on the net. I had to go back to microfiche of newspapers from the twenties, at the UCLA library, before I could find any real accounts of it."

  "So you think there was some kind of cover-up?"

  Hector's jaw dropped. I, I didn't know. I...

  "Hey, relax." Isaac said, concerned. "We're just bullshitting, here.
"

  "It's not that, just crossover from one of the other mes." Hector hesitated, trying to recall the earlier thread of the conversation. "Anyway, no, not exactly a cover-up. I mean, I found the articles in a public library, not exactly something that requires a high level of hacking, just time and effort. I think most people just like the other version of the story better and the Citadel, for some reason, wants us to think the same way.

  "Threat perception. The Citadel wants its operatives, and people in general, I guess, to think in terms of the big guys, instead of focusing on the damage a group of Empowered can do, like- Wait, who did you say they were?"

  "I didn't." Hector replied. "The biggest group was the Angels of the Lord, the other two were the Committee for Progress and Society Without Leaders. Religious nutcases that thought Empowered were angels in human flesh, a group of Empowered with mental abilities that were sure they could run things better than the humans and a bunch of psychotic anarchists inspired by the guys that killed Franz Ferdinand and started the First War."

  "That's it then!" Isaac's face transformed with excitement. "It isn't about people in general, it's the Empowered. How many off the scale Empowered can you think of?"

  "Um, gimme a sec." Hector paused to think. "Well, King in Winter and Tyrant, obviously. There's the guy that set off the Bug Bomb in the late eighties, whatever his name was. The Monarch, or do you only want the bad guys?"

  "No, count her- them, too. Anyone that's so strong there's no way to really deal with them."

  "So that's four, plus William Power, Monster and Chemo." Hector added, grimacing at the last name.

  "I've never heard of Chemo but I don't think Monster counts, he's been running around free for thirty years and he barely does any damage, not on this scale."

  "Chemo... he was a dying cancer patient, probably triggered from the frustration, maybe bitterness. Turned into a giant crystal thing the size of a car and just went running around Carson City. He let out a kind of gas. Anyone that came into contact with it collapsed in pain. Some people went crazy, others died from heart attacks or whatever."