by TR Cameron
Jax approached, and the man extended a hand. “Nikolai Maarsen. You can just call me Professor. Everyone does.”
He shook it and looked around. “Who’s everyone?”
The other man’s laugh was warm and rich and communicated confidence. I guess I’d be pretty confident too if I lived in a castle. “Straight to the point, exactly as Anika said you’d be.”
He’d already figured that the major had sent word ahead. She’d likely cleared his presence before even sharing the existence of the place with him. “Special Forces tend to be like that.”
Maarsen nodded and gestured for Jax to follow. He shared information about the building as he walked through what had been the servants’ working areas of the castle centuries before, taking him through the kitchen and down a long hallway with small rooms that could have been used for just about any task but were now outfitted with identical wooden desks, chairs, and bookshelves filled with old tomes. The historical feel was enhanced by what looked like state-of-the-art computers on each desk.
Jax asked, “Who works here?”
Maarsen chuckled. “Any student may use any room, but some have favorites and become quite territorial. We’ve got more than enough, so such things are silly. They’re also very human.”
“Hard to disagree with that, although I’ve encountered some alien species that were pretty territorial in their own right.”
“Just so. It’s less about what kind of being you are than a function of consciousness. At least, that’s my take on it. Of course, I could be wrong.” His tone suggested that he wasn’t proven wrong all that often. The hallway ended in another of the unexpectedly heavy wooden panel doors, and Maarsen waved his left arm in front of it. The portal unlocked, and he pushed it open to reveal a room that was much more representative of what Jax had expected a castle to offer.
A fire crackled in the fireplace that dominated the right side of the giant room. The space could have held a bigger blaze, but the fire was sufficient to fill the chamber with comfortable warmth. Three large burgundy leather chairs with small round tables of polished dark wood in between were arranged in a semicircle around it. The left side of the room was an exterior wall, with four tall arched windows stretching from waist height almost to the ceiling a story and a half above. The floor was covered in rich brown carpet, and tapestries depicting Scottish historical scenes were hung wherever furniture didn’t prevent it. Bookshelves and cabinets were present and full of appropriate items.
The focal point of the room was the immense and ornate desk set two-thirds of the way inside. A pair of chairs like the ones near the fire was on his side of the object, and another faced him. The Professor lowered himself into it and signaled for Jax to take a seat. The other man waited expectantly, and Jax said, “Quite the place.”
Maarsen laughed. “It really is ridiculous, isn’t it, but what’s the point of working in a castle if you can’t have a little luxury? That’s what I always say.” He gestured at one of the three objects on the desk, a tray holding a decanter with amber liquid inside and several glasses. “Drink?”
Jax shook his head. “I think I’ll hold off for a bit. No offense intended.”
“None taken.” He leaned forward in his chair and pushed the slim leather-bound notebook on the center of the desk out of the way so he could rest his forearms there, then snatched a pen out of the holder on the right-hand side and twirled it in his fingers. “Straight to the point, as promised. So, I’m sure you have questions. Fire away.”
He laughed and shook his head. Questions is an understatement. I have enough of them to fill all the books in this room. “Let’s start at the start. What the hell is this place?”
Chapter Nine
Professor Nikolai Maarsen leaned back in his leather chair with a laugh. “Well, that does pretty much sum it up, doesn’t it? We’re a school of sorts, but likely not like any you’ve already been to. Our approach is unique.” He paused and poured himself a drink from the decanter into one of the crystal glasses that surrounded it, then reclined again, turning the etched tumbler in his hands. “We’re called the Azophi Academy in honor of the astronomer known in this part of the world as Azophi Arabus. Among other achievements, he was the first to identify the Andromeda Galaxy.”
Jax nodded. “Why him?”
Maarsen smiled. “He sought to bring different things together. His study of the constellations attempted to combine the Greek view of the stars with the Arabic view. To create a connection between them that didn’t judge ‘wrong’ or ‘right,’ but rather emphasized improvement using a greater understanding of what was already present.” He took a delicate sip from his glass. “That’s what we do here—identify a thing that’s either lacking or not completely understood, and find a way to bring it into being or into clarity, whatever the individual situation requires.”
Jax considered that response in silence. What does Stephenson think I lack to send me here? Maybe it’s not that I’m missing anything; maybe it’s figuring out the integration of my prosthetics. He replied, “Okay, I suppose that makes sense. It’s kind of what all schools do, right?”
The Professor shook his head. “Not exactly, but close enough that we don’t need to get into it at the moment. There are a couple of rules you’ll have to agree to if you’re going to join us. Still interested, I presume?”
He hadn’t seen anything that triggered concern yet, and since he’d trusted Stephenson this far, why stop now? “Yes. Still interested.”
“Excellent.” He leaned forward again and set his tumbler on the tray. “First, everyone who learns also teaches. We will connect you with one or more people who could benefit from the knowledge you possess. You’ll be expected to work as hard on their achievement as on your own.”
Jax blinked at the unexpected requirement. He’d trained others, sure, but mainly as a coach. “So, like, in a classroom or something?”
Maarsen gave a small shrug. “Maybe. Depends. We’re all about putting complementary pieces together here. That principle will guide how it works in practice.”
“Okay, good deal. That’s not a problem. I’ll do my best. What else?”
“Part of your learning experience will involve taking on tasks for the Academy. We don’t spend much time on theory in the absence of practical application.”
He frowned. “Like what?”
“Nothing that will bring your loyalties into conflict if that’s what you’re wondering. In the past, we’ve had students take on responsibilities from courier work to negotiating vitally important contracts for us, and everything in between. You don’t pay to come here. Instead, we use our students’ skills for the benefit of the school.”
He was beginning to see the bigger picture. “You don’t admit just anyone, do you.” It was a statement rather than a question. “If someone didn’t have a skill you need, they wouldn’t get through the door.”
Maarsen nodded. “They wouldn’t even get an invitation, and would likely never have heard of our existence. There are exceptions, where a past student agrees to contribute their efforts to the Academy as compensation for someone who doesn’t yet have the skills we require or lacks the ones we need at the moment. Those occasions are exceedingly rare.”
Jax drummed his fingers on his thigh. He was getting the idea that this was as much an interview as a question-and-answer session. “Okay. I can accept that, as long as it doesn’t contradict any of my other obligations or commitments. What timeframe are we looking at?”
“A week or two for this initial period. After that, we’ll see.”
He frowned. “How long will this take?”
The Professor grinned, and Jax realized that everyone who sat across from the man probably asked that question. Maarsen replied, “Why, as long as it takes, of course. Just like the instruction is tailored to the individual, so too is the timeframe required to accomplish it.”
Jax laughed. “I should have seen that coming.”
“True, but almost no one does
.” The other man rose and extended a hand. “We’re willing to work with you. Are you willing to work with us?”
He copied the motion and shook. “I am.”
“Good. No time like the present to get started, then.”
The building’s staff wore easily identifiable uniforms, black with accents of orange and yellow. Trousers, polished shoes, tight tunics. They all carried themselves with an attitude he recognized. Military bearing. Guess the Professor hires for multiple purposes. It made him wonder what the robots he’d seen on the way up to the castle were capable of. Obviously, if the place was signal shielded, it was logical that they would have given thought to physical defenses as well.
A woman with long red curls bound into a ponytail escorted him to one of the upstairs rooms. It was simple and clean, like a small hotel room with a bed, a wardrobe, a dresser, and a table. Her last act was to give him a wristcomm similar to his own but in black instead of silver, and tell him they expected him downstairs in fifteen minutes. He reviewed the map of the castle, which had areas labeled off-limits that remained dark on his display. It also provided a countdown and a guide to where he was headed to address his immediate needs.
He took a moment to check the drawers and wardrobe and found them stocked with a variety of clothes, from exercise suits to casual outfits to shirts and pants that closely resembled off-duty uniforms without the insignia. He hung up his coat and donned one of the uniform tops, then headed to the meeting spot.
Jax located the Professor in a room simply marked Lab on the map. Its name was the only simple thing about it, however. His immediate assessment was that it looked medical, but it was like no med unit he’d ever seen. Sure, there was a bed, and ceiling-mounted robot arms, but the room held many things he’d never seen. On the right was something that resembled a stasis chamber from an old movie. On the left was a robotic supply dispenser with compartments that appeared to have genetic sequences as labels. The room was a long rectangle, and it looked as if there might be some sort of area separated from the rest with transparent material at the back. He only realized he was gawking when Maarsen laughed and spoke.
“I think he’s impressed with your place, Juno.” Jax saw that a new person had joined them, a tall woman with long, straight black hair, narrow dark eyes, and shockingly bright pink lipstick.
She grinned, showing off perfect teeth. Her voice was authoritative with an edge of good humor, much like the Professor’s. “Well, it is something to see, right?” She nodded in his direction. “I’m Juno. Doctor Juno Cray, if we’re being formal.”
“Jackson Reese.” A smile in response came easily to his lips.
“I know. We’ve been working on your case for a while. The Professor was pretty sure you’d be joining us.” Jax looked at him, and he shrugged.
“Anika knows her people, and I know Anika. It wasn’t a huge leap of faith. Besides, the issue with your prosthetics is something we haven’t seen before, so it’s worth investigating for that reason alone.”
She picked up the conversation. “And to that end, we’ve been receiving copies of the data that the doctors at Pallas have been gathering. But it’s not particularly adequate.” She turned away and walked toward a cabinet against the right wall. “They did the best they could with the tools they had, I’m sure. Fortunately, our tools are better.”
Maarsen tapped him on the shoulder and extended a hand to invite him to follow the doctor. Jax obeyed, and she turned back to him as he arrived. She said, “Activate bed three,” and a white metal platform slid out of the wall at waist height. “Have a seat. We’ll do the leg first.”
He sat on the table and removed his boot and the sock beneath it. Cray rolled up the leg of his trousers until she found the spot where the prosthetic had been fused to him. She stared at it unblinking for a few seconds, then nodded. “They did a fine job. The signal flow seems proper, just as they said. Good to see that they’re competent.” Her tone held no judgment, more like appreciation for their professionalism.
He asked, “How do you know?”
She looked up briefly and smiled. “Contact lenses with a wireless connection to the room’s computer network. Eye-tracking control system, plus display. Quite useful.” She reached to her left and grabbed what appeared to be a wide steel cuff. When she pressed it against his skin, it felt more like rubber than metal. The doctor latched it, and the object compressed until it covered the join between his native flesh and the artificial leg perfectly.
It tingled suddenly, and he exclaimed, “Whoa!” in surprise.
She laughed. “That’s the response we usually get. It’s doing its own integration with your nervous system. Threads that are too small to hurt are slowly working their way inward. They won’t go far, just deep enough to access the signals we need. But yeah, it’s weird.” She gestured for him to take off his shirt and rolled his t-shirt up to repeat the process where his new arm met his body. “Good fit on both. Hopefully we’ll know something soon. In the meantime, I’m sure you have other things to do. Don’t worry about the tech. You’d have to work really hard to damage it.”
He put his shirt back on with a nod. “Okay. Thanks, Doc.” He hopped down and turned to the Professor, who was looking satisfied. “So, what now?
Maarsen grinned. “Remember when I said we didn’t have classes with lots of students? I kind of lied. Time to go back to school, Captain Reese.”
Chapter Ten
The Professor led him to a wing of the building he hadn’t yet been in. They passed chambers that looked very much like traditional classrooms, with groupings of chairs facing in the same direction. This section was long and narrow, and the rooms on either side had windows on the far walls. It ended at a set of broad metal doors that were quite obviously not part of the castle’s history. Maarsen unlocked it with his wristcomm and stepped inside.
Jax followed him into the large open space, which was filled with separate groups engaged in physical training of various kinds. Some had weapons, some worked on flexibility and agility. A pair that was fighting at what looked like a pretty serious level of intensity caught his attention. He drifted toward them, watching the battle. A shortish woman faced off against a man who was a few inches taller than her, both of them dressed in the athletic gear he’d found in his room. They traded kicks and punches in quick flurries before backing off. Between each set, an instructor gave them pointers. Their hands and feet were padded and they wore helmets, but both still seemed dangerous.
He stepped into the line of onlookers, all of whom were similarly attired. The pair dashed in for another exchange, then retreated. The guide, a powerfully built man who his mind immediately categorized as a senior noncommissioned officer, had dark skin, a bald head, and an impressive mustache. His voice sounded gruff and forceful, but his tone was more “understanding teacher” than “drill instructor.” “Good. Crash, you need to keep your hands up. He’s going to plant a foot in your face if you don’t. Trey, you have to stop thinking that just because you’re bigger, you can relax. She’ll wipe the floor with you if you don’t get your head in the game.” Jax approved. Good advice. He’d noticed both those things while he watched. The combatants nodded and moved in to recommence the fight.
They fought to a stalemate after several more rounds, and the instructor told them to step out. He looked at the ring of people and pointed to the one Jax had categorized as most dangerous, a pale man whose height would give him a long reach and whose muscular form would put a lot of power behind it. Then the instructor’s finger landed on him. “You. New guy. Get geared up.”
Jax looked at Maarsen, who nodded. All right, then. He peeled off the uniform top and his boots and socks and donned protective gloves, foot coverings, and a helmet. The gloves covered the punching surfaces of his hands but left the rest free to use in blocks or joint locks. The foot coverings would protect his opponent from a kick on any of the usual surfaces. The helmet had a transparent piece in the front and some sort of flexible plastic that
wrapped around his head. He stepped into the ring and noticed that the previous fighters had joined the crowd.
The instructor strode forward. “Okay, gentlemen. Keep it clean, we’re not street fighting. Shots to the back aren’t allowed. Other than that, show us what you’ve got.” For the first time since arriving at the castle, Jax was in his comfort zone. Combat was a thing he knew, a thing he lived. The audience faded from his thoughts as he focused his attention on his opponent. He saw in the other man’s gaze that he was doing so as well, and gave a respectful nod.
It was returned, then the fight was on. The other man skipped in and feinted a punch, then rotated backward and drove his heel at Jax’s head. He’d seen that move countless times, and he dipped and spun into a foot sweep to take out the support leg. His opponent jumped over it, and Jax dove out of the way to avoid the follow-up axe kick that came down at his shoulder. He rolled up to his feet right at the edge of the square of watchers that defined the boundaries of their battle and circled around, watching his foe warily as he matched the movement. Fair fights were always like this, a sounding out of the enemy’s capabilities and tactics. He far preferred unfair ones involving overwhelming force. Guess you can’t always get what you want.
He moved in at three-quarters speed, keeping his full abilities hidden. The man snapped out a kick that was fast enough to be impressive, but he’d been expecting it and circle-blocked it outward. The logical move now would be to go for the ribs that were briefly exposed, but he feared a trap. Instead, he lashed out with his foot toward the bundle of nerves in the outside of the thigh, knowing that if he could numb out his foe’s leg, he’d have an easy win.
His rival surprised him. He jumped again, far higher than Jax would have guessed he could, and snapped a front kick at his face. It crashed into his helmet square in his forehead, and he staggered backward from the impact. The man landed and threw a spinning back kick that would have knocked Jax across the room if it had connected, but he was already circling to avoid the impact. He smashed a hammerfist down on the man’s knee, pulling the blow so as not to break it. His foe danced away, and Jax shook his head to clear it. The ringing in his ears didn’t help his concentration.
