by V. St. Clair
A wild, reckless part of her wanted to call out to them and admit it was her they were looking for. Maybe they would let the others go. She could imagine the look on Major Topher’s face upon hearing her admit complicity. Fox and his condescending friend would light up with glee at the chance to torture a psychic…or perhaps they would kill her on the spot. After all, she had pulled the desire to kill the reigning Viceroy from his mind, which couldn’t be something anyone else knew about or else he wouldn’t be a Provo-Major anymore.
If only she could have told Topher about it back in the staffroom without giving herself away. Maxton said he and Fox didn’t seem to be too friendly, so surely the younger Major would jump at the chance to point out a threat to the Viceroy and advance his own career at the same time? She had no idea where Topher ranked amongst the pecking order of the Provo-Major, but surely he couldn’t be too influential since he was so young, and this would give him a chance to one-up a superior.
But there was no way to tell him what she had seen in Fox’s mind without revealing she was the psychic, and there was no way she could trust him with that information. He was a part of the group hunting her down, tearing apart the Academy and dragging off three innocent girls right on the off-chance they were involved with Fox’s attack. No matter how much she wanted to see Fox get what he deserved, she couldn’t forget that Topher was as much of a child-killing monster as the rest of them.
So she stood there and watched with everyone else as her peers took the punishment meant for her, dragged off down the road and into a waiting speeder by a flock of Provo-Minor. She had no idea if she would ever see them again.
11
Carl Vucanis
Carl watched the Provo-Minor escorting a small blond woman away from the Illucept building and into the back of their aerial car with a slight frown on his face.
The woman was putting up a brave face as they wedged her into the back of the small four-seater and prepared to take flight. He could see her features trembling from his vantage point, and wondered idly if she was actually guilty of whatever horrible thing she was being accused of. It must be something terrible to bring out the Majors in force like this.
The Minor started the engines and the speeder rose gently into the air, hovering just over the top of the nearest building before gunning it into high-gear and soaring towards the Augenspire. Their speeder was one of the few special types permitted to fly below sky-level, unbound by the flexi-lanes and able to move freely through the air at low altitudes, typically only used for emergencies where speed was of the essence.
Looking around, many of the other Minors were preparing to depart as well, though in a series of ground cars instead of through the aerial emergency lanes.
Not all of them are leaving though, Carl observed, noting there weren’t nearly enough cars for all of the Minors who were still in the Academy. They must be planning to keep some of them behind for at least another day.
But why leave people stationed behind at the Academy if they thought they arrested the correct woman, unless they were just trying to send a message to the other Gifted? The Academy was large enough that it had a spare building of extra sleeping quarters, reserved for visiting members of the government or guests from outside the city, so accommodating them wouldn’t be an issue.
Maybe they aren’t sure they caught the right person, and they’re leaving people behind in case they need to do another search of the Academy…
Or perhaps they were expecting more trouble and were trying to discourage it before it could get started. There could be a dozen different reasons for their continued presence here, and there was no way to know if Carl’s speculations were correct. It wasn’t like the Minors were going to tell him, even if he got up the nerve to ask.
Carl sighed and began walking idly back in the direction of the Deco-Reco dorms.
It’s not like I fit in any better here than I would in the army, he thought darkly. Even within the Academy, he was an outcast of sorts. After they found out how powerful he was, there had been a lot of debate over whether he should go to Physman or Deco-Reco, since neither department seemed to fit him perfectly. While most of what he was doing involved the physical manipulation of objects, there were some things he was able to alter on a more fundamental level. Since both departments wanted to claim him as their own, they battled it out while he got caught in the middle, until eventually Deco-Reco won official ownership of him with the agreement he would still take lessons in Physman and claim secondary ties there.
What’s the real difference between the Academy owning me and the government owning me?
In the distance he could see several figures clad in heavy armor rising into the sky with no visible means of support. He wasn’t the only one to stop and stare at this impossible feat by the Provo-Major.
They must have some sort of propulsion system in their armor boosting them into the air, he reasoned. Machines and technology always interested him, though, since finding out he was Gifted, he wasn’t permitted to do any detailed work with technology or elarium anymore. The rulers of their planet liked to keep the technologically-advanced Provo distinctly separate from the Gifted, lest the latter find out too many secrets about how the military’s defenses worked. Besides, elarium-based technology tended not to work very well around the Gifted; malfunctions were a lot more common with them for some reason, though no one really understood why.
Just as Carl decided that the Majors’ armor was probably only sufficiently powered to make them hover above the ground and wouldn’t let them truly fly, he watched the five of them soar spectacularly upwards in a straight vertical line until they were far above the tallest building in the Academy.
That shouldn’t be possible, Carl mused appreciatively. They would need an engine and fuel system in their suit powerful enough to overcome their body weight and the weight of the armor itself to propel them continuously into the air, or a massive counterweight for an anti-grav thruster. Either way, their power systems would have to be enormous.
Nothing on their suits looked large enough to contain such a powerful propulsion system. It was just one more mystery about the Provo-Major he would likely never solve.
He tilted his head back and watched the figures turn sharply in mid-air and fly towards the Augenspire, until he could barely see them anymore. Four of the figures turned on a dime with practiced ease and soared gracefully through the sky, while the fifth stumbled slightly when switching from vertical to horizontal movement and teetered weirdly in the air until he was able to right himself, as though out of practice with how to move.
Must be nice not to have to walk anywhere.
He could see why the Gifted were so terrified of the Provo-Major during the Great War all those years ago. Imagining the sight of sixty omnipotent, heavily-armored monsters descending from the sky with the task of genocide would give him the willies too.
The subject of the Provo-Major’s flight capabilities stayed with Carl while he walked slowly back to his dormitory. It presented a nice puzzle for his brain to work at rather than dwelling on his own issues.
Even if they could counter gravity and move vertically through the air, they shouldn’t be able to change direction as well as they do without a secondary set of horizontal boosters attached to them.
Their armor clearly wasn’t equipped with anything bulky enough to be a propulsion unit, unless they’d found a way to hugely downsize the technology for it. There was also the distinct lack of fire or any combustibles that would normally fuel such a propulsion system.
Maybe something gas-powered? He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Hydrogen would certainly be light enough and compact enough to power a propulsion engine—but to store that much of it, along with a controlled-release regulator…
He tried doing some mental calculations, but he really needed to put pen to paper for this sort of detailed work, and he quickly became frustrated with himself. If he hadn’t been forced to abandon his studies of advanced technolog
y when he was barely a teenager, he would probably already know how it worked and have a lovely career in the field to boot. With enough technical skill, he could have gotten a job working for the Viceroy himself, building the most advanced guidance and weapons systems this world had to offer.
Of course, he could still have a job working for the Viceroy, if not the one he originally imagined as a child.
He tucked that thought away for now, not eager to examine it in any more detail. When he was marked as Gifted, so many doors were immediately closed to him that he never bothered to dream of what he could become in the future. He accepted there was never a chance of him having a career in the military, except as an assassin.
Now he was being told he could have it. He could be one of the first Gifted to ever hold such a high-ranking position in the military—an officer, of all things!
But there was a catch.
I know too much about Hera and the people working with her. I’d have to trade their lives and the success of their resistance group for my career.
There was little chance of them giving him such a lofty position without putting him through a battery of tests, most of them mental rather than physical. As the Provo-Minor explained to him yesterday, it was nothing personal; anyone in the Viceroy’s employ went through intense testing and conditioning to make sure they didn’t have competing loyalties. It was the only way they could be sure neither Hera nor any other resistance group got one of their agents inside the Augenspire. So far this had been very effective at ensuring that only those who were loyal to the ruling family were permitted to attain key positions in the government.
If they interviewed Carl with the aid of any chemical serums, there was no way he could avoid telling them everything he knew about Hera and the others. While he didn’t know all—or even most—of Hera’s affiliates and their plans, he knew enough to get a lot of people he cared about in trouble. It would be a devastating blow to the resistance if Hera was captured and killed in some public and spectacular way to deter the other rebel groups. A dozen people he knew were co-conspirators, and they would be dragged off to prison or killed as well, including Risa.
He blinked and tried to shake the thought of her being carted off to a dark dungeon somewhere in the bowels of the Augenspire, fighting the bitter feelings rising up inside of him. The people he knew in Hera’s rebellion all had personal reasons for fighting the government driving them onward, even though their chances of affecting any real change were infinitesimal: Hera had been friends with Ash before his rebellion got obliterated, and was stepping into his shoes to continue the fight for justice; Risa lost someone close to her to the Provo-Majors; Ana had a rebel spirit driving her to fight for justice and equality.
Carl was different. He had fallen in with the resistance almost by accident. Though always ambitious, after he had been told most avenues for advancement and personal fulfillment were forever closed to him, he had turned his attention to bringing down the establishment instead. It was the most ambitious thing he could think to do with his life, being Gifted, and any outcome ensured him success of a sort. If they managed to overthrow the government or win the Gifted their rights back and change the world, he would be a part of that monumental accomplishment, and if they failed and he died in the effort, well…better to be a martyr than a nobody.
But now karma was paying him back for his ambitions by dangling such a tempting carrot in front of his face. He could take the offer, sell out his friends and allies, and be in better standing with the government for it…or he could turn down the generous offer and watch someone else take his place as an officer, while he continued to toil away at a resistance that seemed doomed to fail.
Can I even turn the offer down? He wondered now. The Provo-Minor said the Viceroy wanted only willing volunteers; he wasn’t being drafted. But who knew what would happen to him if he walked away from such a generous offer. Would he turn up dead in an alley in Silveria someday soon? Would they insist on knowing why he was turning down their gesture at integrating the Gifted into normal society, which could lead to a chemical interrogation all on its own?
Before he could follow this line of thought any further, the communicator in his pocket began to buzz. Thinking it would be Risa calling to make sure he was alright after the visit by the Provo today, he was surprised to see Ana’s face on the screen when he answered.
“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted her wearily, not sure whether he was glad for the intrusion into this thoughts or not. Then again, Ana rarely called him unless she was with Risa, so this was a strange and interesting occasion in itself.
Ana looked over his features for a moment and said, “Glad to hear you’re back from your interview. When this lockdown on the Academy ends, we should go to dinner downtown and catch up.”
Carl recognized the code phrase immediately. An invitation to eat dinner downtown usually meant that Hera wanted to see him, though it occasionally became confusing when someone actually did want to eat dinner in downtown Silveria.
So much deception and lies, he thought moodily. What would it be like to live in a world where people could say what the hell they wanted to say without worrying about who might be eavesdropping and waiting to turn them in for a reward?
“Sure,” he agreed readily, though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to see Hera just now, given his semi-traitorous thoughts. “Any idea when the lockdown on this place is going to be lifted?”
“No idea, but I saw most of the Provo-Major leaving already, so hopefully in the next day or two.” She added, “They carted off three girls from Anomalies, so hopefully they got whatever they came for and will leave us alone soon.” There was something wooden about her tone as she said the last part.
Carl raised his eyebrows thoughtfully and said, “They also took away someone from Deco-Reco. Whatever was going on, they must have been in on it together.”
Ana looked troubled by the news, but all she said was, “It’s possible. So, we’re on for dinner then. Good.”
Carl didn’t have the energy to spare wondering about her feelings right now or he would have asked her why she was acting so strangely today. Instead he said, “Let me know where you want to eat when we’re able to go out, and I’ll meet you there.” He needed her to provide a restaurant as a codename for which of Hera’s many meeting places they needed to be at.
“It’ll be at Cheveli’s, but I’ll confirm with you when lockdown is over.”
They were silent for an awkward moment, and then Ana said, “I really am glad you’re back, Carl. Risa was beside herself when she heard you’d gone missing.”
So you’re only glad because Risa’s glad? No, it was an uncharitable thought to have about his friend, and he pushed his sour mood away.
“Thanks, I’m glad to be back too, though the food was better there. Tell Risa the next time she needs help clobbering punks in her room, if she could give me some advanced notice that the Provo are going to come knocking afterwards, I’d appreciate it. I don’t like to greet government employees in my underwear.”
Ana choked on a laugh and cut the comm.
The Academy was under lockdown for two full days, and tensions were beginning to build between the Gifted and the oppressors who kept them penned up in the Academy. A few small skirmishes had broken out across campus in the form of fist-fights, and one young man lost control of his temper and caught the hem of a Minor’s robe on fire with his Gift before being arrested. Since the Minor wasn’t harmed, they expected the Gifted to be released from his cell after a few days of solitary confinement, but Carl feared things would only get worse if they weren’t allowed off campus soon.
On the afternoon of the third day the lockdown was finally lifted, and Carl went to see Hera.
He knew Ana was probably expecting him to call her so she could go with him—Risa was still keeping a low profile and avoiding their ringleader until she was sure she had fallen off of the Provo-Minor’s radar. In truth, Carl should be doing the same, but if H
era knew he had been taken by the Provo and she wanted to see him anyway, it meant she was aware of the risks and was willing to accept them.
Carl didn’t want any company for this particular visit, not even from his friends. For Hera to send for him in the midst of all the scrutiny the Academy was receiving right now, it must be something important, and he had a vague guess as to what the subject might be: his interviews with the Provo-Minor about their job offer.
Since he had no idea what she would think about the idea of him being an officer, or what the two of them would end up saying to each other if an argument broke out, he caught a bus to downtown Silveria alone. If he was about to get into a fight with Hera, he didn’t want Ana there as an ally for Hera’s arguments.
It was a dark and dreary day, which was turning into an even darker and stormy evening. Purple clouds loomed overhead, and thunder could be heard cracking in the distance. The weather matched his mood perfectly tonight.
He held onto the overhead bar and ignored the glances he received from the other passengers on the crowded bus. They were staring curiously at his emblem, a crumbling cube, probably trying to figure out what his Gift was. It was supposed to symbolize something being broken apart, or being rebuilt, depending on how you looked at it, but for all he knew these people just thought he was able to break cubes with his mind.
The bus was packed with commuters at this time of evening, and traffic had slowed to a crawl as they entered the heart of downtown, trudging along the congested lanes that snaked between the bases of skyscrapers.
I wish Hera had property in the sky-layer, he thought ruefully. Traffic was still bad in the sky-level at rush-hour, but overall the upper layer was much less congested than at ground-level. Besides, it would be nice to sit in a park somewhere on high and look down at the city below them, like watching ants running around a maze of buildings.
