Recruits Series, Book 1

by Thomas Locke

  It turned out the station had its own emergency clinic. And the woman was a doctor who waited until the station’s uproar was dimmed by the glass portal to ask, “What happened to you?”

  “We were attacked. Or trapped. I don’t know how to describe . . .”

  “Don’t describe,” the doctor told him. “Just tell.”

  Sean gave it to her in words minced by adrenaline and shock. The women, the party, the scream, the chase, and the realization. What he said was enough to cause the doctor to flinch. Like Sean had struck her. Or scared her witless. But the woman recovered swiftly, and when one of the cops barked a question, she replied with a blank professionalism and a few calm words.

  The doctor went back to working on Dillon. When she spoke, it was in a voice bland as yogurt. “You are recruits?”

  “Yes.”

  The doctor placed patches over Dillon’s temples and heart. A screen appeared in the wall above his head, showing his vital rhythms. She spoke a word and a drawer slipped from the featureless wall beside her. She applied another patch to Dillon’s arm, and his vitals slid into the smooth waves of deep sleep. “What planet?”

  “Earth?” Sean made his response a question because he assumed from what Carver had told them that the place would be unknown. So he added, “An outpost world.”

  The doctor translated the cop’s next question. “Why did you bring your trouble here?”

  “This is the only transit point we know.”

  The doctor looked at him. And then she smiled. “Really?”

  “We have this station on the wall of our bedroom. We’ve been working on it since we were seven years old.”

  The cop demanded something, probably wanting to hear her translation. She refitted her blank expression and waved casually, like the whole exchange was unimportant. She checked Dillon’s vitals once more, then stepped over to where Sean was holding up the side wall. “Is any of the blood you wear yours?”

  “No.”

  She gave him a careful going-over. The doctor was in her late thirties, dark-haired and cute in a highly intelligent and focused manner. The difference between her and the ethereal beauties who almost took them out could not have been greater.

  She turned her attention back to Dillon. “I suppose I should welcome you, but that might be out of order just now. What is your brother’s name?”

  “Dillon. Will he be all right?”

  “Dillon has been wounded and has experienced a severe shock. But unless there are injuries I have not yet identified, he should make a full recovery.”

  Sean looked at the branch still poking from his brother’s side. “How can you be sure?”

  “Perhaps it is because our medicine has advanced beyond that of your outpost world. Your brother is breathing. His heart rate is strong.”

  “Does your medicine work? For Earth people, I mean.”

  She seemed to like that. “I am happy to report that all your brother’s organs appear to be in their proper places.”

  The cop broke in at that point, halting their momentary calm with a bark of cop speech, and the doctor translated, “He wants to know who attacked you. But I am reluctant to repeat what you said. Your explanation carries . . .”

  “Baggage.”

  She liked that enough for her eyes to spark. But she kept her expression bland. “Precisely. So may I suggest your official answer be about women and an accident?”

  “No problem.” And it wasn’t, since that was exactly what happened. As he gave a simplified version of events, Sean struggled to make sense in his own head of what had really happened.

  The cops made notes on a translucent panel, then held it up and took several shots of both Sean and Dillon.

  Sean asked quietly, “Why shouldn’t they know—”

  “Later, yes? How far along are you in your training?”

  “Four days. Unless it’s after midnight. Then five.”

  The cops interrupted her response by reaching for Sean. When the doctor protested, one of them actually snarled at her. Sean was tempted to snarl back, but the doctor responded with a sharp retort of her own. When the cop tried to argue, she became more forceful still and pointed them from the room.

  Whatever she said was enough to turn the cop’s face beet-red. He snarled a final time, then took plastic cuffs from his belt pouch and reached for Sean’s wrist. The doctor objected, which seemed to please the cop. He cuffed Sean to a wall hook he had not noticed until that moment. In truth, Sean did not mind. He was with his brother. The doctor was an ally. There was a chair within reach, where he could settle when his knees turned liquid. Which happened the minute the cops left and the doctor started working out the branch.

  The room was long and angled and narrow and completely white. The front section held a white desk and a padded white chair and nothing else. The desk’s surface was utterly clear. Sean’s chair was white, as was the bed where Dillon lay, jutting like a white tongue from the opposite wall. The room was illuminated by glowing strips set in the walls and ceiling. The doctor spoke a word, and the light angled more intensely over Dillon’s wound. She touched a glowing pad on the side wall, and an electronic curtain slipped across the space between them and the front reception area. Instantly all remaining noise from the station was silenced.

  She worked the wooden spike from Dillon’s flesh, spoke another word, waited for another invisible drawer to appear, took out several instruments, gave the wound a careful inspection, and studied the second screen that now glowed on the wall. She must have liked what she saw, because she nodded and spoke words Sean didn’t need to understand before settling the instruments back in their station. Then she rose and walked over to him.

  She frowned over Sean being cuffed and hooked to the wall, but all she said was, “You have had a major shock as well. I want you to rest.”

  Only then did he notice the patch she held. “Later.”

  “Now.” Her song speech carried the authority of a woman who knew she was right. “Two things. First, your brother will be fine. I am good at my job.”

  “I believe you,” Sean said, liking her immensely.

  “And second, the officer will soon return. I suspect he is obtaining orders to move you. You understand the word cell? If you are unconscious, I can insist you must remain under my care.”

  She hummed the words with such friendly intimacy Sean said, “Go ahead, then. Knock me out.”

  “Knock out. That is a new one.” She peeled the back off the pad and applied it to Sean’s wrist. “It implies violence when there is none.”

  “My world is a pretty violent place.”

  She glanced at the blood caking his form. “So I gather.”

  He felt the warm tendrils of a drugged sleep begin to filter along his arm and into his body. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I told you. I take my professional duty very seriously.”

  “No, I mean, being so nice.”

  Her smile transformed her from a very intense young woman into a rare beauty. “What have they told you of the significance behind the image you and your brother designed, and how this is your first transit point?”

  “Only that it’s part of why we’re being given this chance.”

  “It indicates a deep psychic bond with my world. My hope is to become a field doctor for transiters. First I must complete my duty here at the clinic. All doctors are obliged to serve two years at a posting that our government designates. When this is done, I intend to specialize. I want to make a life’s study of the gifted ones.”

  His tongue felt thick, the words slow to emerge. “I’ve never been called that before. Gifted.”

  “Studies have suggested that transiters such as you actually have two home planets. Where you were born, and where you envision your first transit. This initial transit point is known as your twin world.” She took his pulse in the traditional manner. “I have faced so many difficulties in my research. My world does not welcome transiters, which is why the station guar
ds are so upset. I will have to transfer to another planet to do my work. My family is very much against this. But if I am offered a place, I am going.”

  Sean wanted to ask what the name of this planet was. What lay beyond the station. Where all those travelers were going. What the doctor’s name was. How she could be so smart and so friendly and . . .

  But the lights were fading, and soon went out entirely.

  15

  When Sean next opened his eyes, he found himself in the same narrow alcove, but back in the chamber’s far end, stretched out on a second bed. He pushed himself to a sitting position and looked down to where Dillon still slept.

  The doctor greeted him with, “Your brother is resting comfortably and will make a full recovery.”

  Sean found a unique comfort in hearing the news sung to him. Everything he heard spoken in Serenese carried a sense of directness and honesty. He checked his wrist and was intensely glad to discover he was no longer cuffed. “Can I ask your name?”

  “Sandrine. And you are Sean, yes? Did you enjoy being knocked out?”

  He liked her smile and the easy way she claimed friendship. “At least the cops left me alone.”

  “Only because your friend arrived. The Praetorian officer, Colonel Carver.” She motioned him over and touched a glowing pad, and the supposedly solid wall behind her slid back to reveal a washroom. “He and two others are waiting to speak with you. But first you should wash.”

  “Who are they?”

  “You will see. Ready yourself.”

  The mirror above the sink revealed a face still stained by Dillon’s blood. Sean winced at the sight, mostly because it brought back the previous terror-stricken events. He then realized he had not contacted his parents. He opened the door and asked, “How long have I been out?”

  “My world’s time-measurement system would mean nothing to you. You have rested well. That is enough.”

  “Can I make a phone call?”

  “To your outpost world?” Sandrine seemed to like that a lot. “Unfortunately that is beyond this clinic’s capacity. Now you must hurry. These are not people you want to keep waiting.”

  He showered, rubbed his cheeks, and decided to use the razor left out on the sink. There were clothes on a shelf—a T-shirt and drawstring pants and slip-on cloth shoes. The shirt was slightly oversized and the shoes a half size too small, but Sean did not complain. His reflection held him as he brushed his hair, for the eyes staring back at him remained stained by shadows that no shower could wash away.

  Sandrine nodded approval and said, “Good luck.”

  It was all the warning Sean required.

  Sandrine touched another pad and the wall behind her became a curtain that drew back, revealing three people in heated discussion. Carver was there, and Examiner Tirian. And a third person. She was taller than both men, an angular woman with silver-grey hair and the sternest face Sean had ever seen. Her elegant appearance jarred with the surroundings, as though she was dressed for a palace instead of a clinic’s waiting room. All three people turned at his appearance. Carver was the only person who seemed glad to see him.

  His instructor asked, “How do you feel?”

  “Okay. But I need to get in touch with my parents.”

  “I have already been in contact. You are on a school trip. And your school has been informed that you and Dillon both have colds.”

  The stern woman demanded, “What does that signify?”

  “I have no idea,” Carver replied. “It was noted in their world’s regulations manual as a common ailment. And the school authorities accepted it.”

  Those few words were enough for Sean to realize who the elegant woman was. “You’re Tatyana. Our language teacher.”

  She looked very pleased. “You recognize my voice. How remarkable.”

  The Examiner asked, “Counselor, you have been instructing this one?”

  “Him and his brother.” She continued to inspect Sean. She wore trousers beneath a long overmantle, both a grey so pale they were almost silver. The clothes matched her hair and her eyes, which were the most remarkable thing about her. That and the bejeweled clasp over her heart, an emblem of some sort, shaped from emeralds and sapphires. “I inserted myself into their language program.”

  The same emblem was sewn into the collar of the Examiner’s jacket. “May I ask why?”

  Her response was cut off by a feeble cry from the other room. Sean excused himself and rushed back to find Dillon struggling weakly against the doctor. “Stay where you are, man.”

  Dillon’s features were stricken by a fear as real as pain. “Did I kill them?”

  Sean had never touched his brother much. Their family wasn’t one for hugs. But it came natural now. To lean over his twin, set hands on both shoulders, and say, “They didn’t exist.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I saw them start to turn into smoke.” Sean saw the doctor flash the same fear as the day before. “Just like the car we were chasing.”

  “I thought I saw . . .” Dillon’s fear was replaced by a wince of real pain. “What happened to my side?”

  “Later. Now lay down. Let me introduce you to Sandrine, the train station’s very own idea of a guardian angel.”

  “No need.” Dillon allowed himself to be settled back. He switched to Serenese and continued, “The doc and I are already talking about where we’re going on our first date. Isn’t that right, Doc?”

  “Most certainly not.”

  Sean felt his own band of distress let go of his chest. If Dillon was able to flirt, he was definitely on the mend.

  Dillon pointed to the trio who had entered the chamber and now stood behind Sean. “Who’s the one who looks like a queen?”

  “Her name is Tatyana. She’s our language prof. Among other things.” Sean watched the doctor retreat to the side wall as Counselor Tatyana drew the two men forward.

  When they stood by Dillon’s bedside, the Examiner said, “Really, Counselor, I must protest.”

  Tatyana replied, “Explain your objection.”

  “They are twin menaces,” Tirian declared. “I have no doubt whatsoever that they brought all this on themselves. Certainly there is nothing sufficiently remarkable about these two to alert our foes.”

  Carver froze the twins with a look. “You are missing the point,” he said. “Sean shielded both of them. After four days of training, he transported himself and another individual. Something that only a handful of highly skilled—”

  “He panicked. You know as well as I that even raw recruits can accomplish rare feats when terrified.”

  “Not like this,” Carver replied. “Not in centuries.”

  The Examiner sniffed and turned back to Tatyana. “What the colonel refuses to see is how these ruffians perpetuate everything that has happened.”

  “Ruffians,” Tatyana repeated.

  “According to what they told the station guards, the pair stopped to pick up strange women, thus setting the disaster in motion. This happened less than four hours after they assaulted an innocent bystander.”

  “The student known as Eric was most definitely not innocent,” Carver said. “And you know of this only because I entered it into their official record. As testimony of how they made proper use—”

  “You only have their word on this. Which I heartily discount.”

  “They saved a young woman from assault.”

  “Again, hearsay.” The Examiner’s bald head gleamed like a polished black globe. “I hereby fail both of them.”

  Sean’s gut took a plunge down to the polished floor. The room became encased in a silence so intense that whatever Carver said next became tiny wisps of protest against a fate he knew they both deserved. Everything the Examiner said was true. The facts left Sean struggling to breathe. He and his brother were responsible. They were guilty. They were doomed. He heard Dillon groan and knew he had no comfort to offer.

  Carver was saying, “These two have passed every test with f
lying colors. They have made great strides in learning Serenese. They have—”

  “Failing them is within my charter!”

  “With each external challenge they have enlarged their powers, and yet they have used them only to protect themselves and others.”

  “They are irresponsible in the extreme. They are not fit to wield powers of any kind, much less join our ranks.”

  Carver turned to the silent woman. “Counselor, you can’t allow this travesty—”

  “She is not responsible for these recruits. I hold the authority to determine whether they pass their exams. I deem them unworthy. I fail them.”

  Tatyana’s voice was as flat and hard as her gaze. “Duly noted.”

  Carver showed a fury as intense as his distress. “Counselor, I protest in the strongest possible terms.”

  “Also noted. Gentlemen, this matter is concluded.” She silenced Carver’s next objection with a single look. “Examiner Tirian, you are dismissed.”

  “But . . . their mind-wipes are now my purview.”

  “I shall see to all that is required. Your duties regarding these two young men are hereby concluded. Good day, Tirian.”

  The Examiner cast the twins a single look, dark and contemptuous and dismissive. Sean let Dillon growl for both of them. Tirian wheeled about, took a half step, and vanished.

  As the elegant woman turned back to them, Sean’s brain locked on a single thought, as though simple observation was all he could manage just then. Taking an easy breath was certainly beyond his reach. The thought was, This is what judgment looks like. For there in those light grey eyes was the implacable force of an individual who had cast verdicts on entire races. The force and the burdens and the merciless determination were all there. Aimed straight at him.

  Carver’s voice sounded as strangled as Sean felt. “Counselor, I beseech—”

  “I have no intention of erasing one iota of their potential.”