Generation One LLR

  “You’re actually excited about this, aren’t you?” Taylor said. He hadn’t realized she was watching him.

  “Yes! Aren’t you?”

  “Not really.” Taylor lowered her voice. “Even if it’s just pretend, doesn’t it strike you as weird that the people who are supposed to be protecting us would want to fight us?”

  “Professor Nine says it’s all to help us train,” Kopano replied with a shrug. “Perhaps such violence goes against your natural instinct as a healer. I would understand that.” Kopano punched his open palm. “But my natural instinct is to be a warrior!”

  Taylor laughed and shook her head. “You got beat up by a pillow today, warrior.”

  They spotted Nigel and Ran in the crowd and went to stand by them.

  “All right, big boy,” Nigel said in greeting and squeezed Kopano’s bicep. “Ready to kick some ass?”

  Kopano grinned. He liked his roommate—both his roommates, actually, even if Caleb was a little strange—and always felt encouraged by Nigel’s sharp and boisterous words.

  “Oh, Kopano the mighty is ready,” Taylor answered Nigel with a roll of her eyes. She looked to Ran. “Surprised to see you here.”

  Ran tilted her head. “It is required.”

  “She might be Legacy celibate, but that don’t mean she’d miss a class,” Nigel said.

  Kopano shook his head. He’d heard the rumors about Ran swearing off her Legacies, just like he’d heard about what a total badass she supposedly was. He’d never gotten a chance to see her in action.

  “How’re you going to get better if you don’t use your powers?” he asked Ran, baffled.

  “Why would I need to get better at something that I do not intend to use?” Ran replied.

  Kopano blinked. “But come on! Don’t you think you got Legacies for a reason? Lorien picked us!”

  “And perhaps that reason is past.”

  “But what if it’s not?”

  “Then I shall wait for a new reason to present itself,” Ran said coolly.

  Nigel flung his arms around the both of them. “Don’t let her rain on your parade, mate. Ran and I, we been around a bit. She wants to take a holiday, I don’t blame her.”

  Kopano frowned. “I should have been there. I should have answered John Smith’s call.”

  Nigel and Ran’s expressions both darkened.

  “Brother, I’m not sure if that’s true,” Nigel said.

  Before they could say anything else, a shrill whistle called them to attention. With the hundred or so students finally all gathered, Nine stood before them. Colonel Archibald joined him, red-faced from a close shave, his uniform immaculate. Nearby stood a man Kopano had never seen before—middle-aged but baby-faced, with slicked-back brown hair and a dapper suit. The newcomer held a tablet computer, jotting frequent notes with a stylus.

  “Listen up!” Professor Nine shouted. He waved to the well-dressed man. “We’ve got a special guest for today’s festivities. This is Greger Karlsson, an evaluator from Earth Garde. He’s one of the dudes who will decide what kind of missions you’re sent on once I decide you’re ready to graduate. Make a good impression! He’s Swedish and I hear he really likes it when you do that Muppet voice, right, Greger?”

  Greger smiled politely at Nine and inclined his head towards the students, his gaze already appraising them. Kopano puffed out his chest.

  “Now listen, I’m required by some law to tell you guys that this is a joint exercise between Earth Garde Academy enrollees and the United Nations Peacekeepers. Participation is absolutely optional. For those who do choose to participate, every precaution will be taken to ensure your safety, but safety can’t be guaranteed. Ominous shit, right?” He glanced over his shoulder at Colonel Archibald. “Satisfactory, boss?”

  Archibald nodded. Kopano looked around—the expressions of his classmates ranged from trepidation to excitement. He nudged Taylor.

  “You might be busy today,” he whispered.

  She gave him a stern look. “You promised me boring, Kopano.”

  “Here’s the situation,” Professor Nine continued, pointing into the woods. “About a half mile into the trees, there’s a cabin being held down by Peacekeepers. Your mission is to gain access to that cabin and rescue the hostage trapped inside. Our own Dr. Goode has volunteered to play the role of hostage, so, you know, if you don’t rescue him, science class is going to be rough.”

  “The soldiers in the woods and guarding the cabin are all armed with nonlethal weaponry,” Colonel Archibald spoke up. “My men and women would greatly appreciate that you take the same care with your powers that we’re taking with our armaments.”

  “Yeah. Don’t hurt ’em too bad,” Nine said. “The point of this exercise isn’t just to fight some soldiers. It’s also to assess your teamwork and strategy skills. I could tell you the best way to take out these chumps, but I’m not going to do that. I could also break you into the most efficient teams possible, but I’m not going to do that either. That’s all going to be on you. Anyone who’s successful earns . . . hmm . . . let’s say twenty hours of recreation time. That’s three skip days.”

  As soon as Nine finished his explanation, the dozens of young Garde began chattering among themselves and breaking into teams. Kopano looked around eagerly. Most of the students with noncombat Legacies and the tweebs who hadn’t yet developed their primary powers were already gathering at the edge of the woods to spectate, while the bolder Garde with more violent Legacies divided themselves up.

  “Of course Professor Nine would give away such a good prize for brute strength,” Isabela complained as she sauntered over to their little group. Simon followed along behind her, waving to everyone.

  “There’s literally no way I can participate in this,” Simon said. “Maybe next time the competition won’t be so agro.”

  Taylor smiled. “You’re welcome to come join us conscientious objectors.”

  “I want those recreation hours,” Isabela muttered. “It isn’t fair.”

  “Yes. And I want to show this Earth Garde man what I can do,” Kopano added, looking around.

  “You even figure out what that is yet?” Nigel asked.

  “Well, not exactly,” Kopano answered. “But I would still like to do it!”

  Taylor bumped her shoulder against Ran, nodding discreetly towards Greger. “He’s watching you.”

  Ran had already noticed how the Earth Garde representative was keeping an eye on her. She shrugged loosely. “He will be disappointed.”

  “Look at this group of badasses!” Lofton St. Croix said excitedly as he approached. Following behind him was Caleb, the fire-breathing Omar Azoulay, Nicolas Lambert the Belgian strongman and the speedy Maiken Megalos. “Ran and Nigel, c’mon, join Team Lofton.”

  Nigel snorted. “Look at this. You’re just cherry-picking everybody from Dr. Chen’s class.”

  Kopano felt a momentary flash of disappointment that he hadn’t been selected for that seminar.

  “Hell yeah I am,” Lofton answered Nigel. “You know, I already got my call up to Earth Garde. I’m gone in like a week. If I get those twenty rec hours, I can take it easy until then.”

  Nigel glanced at Ran. She shook her head.

  “Sorry, mate, but we’re a package deal,” Nigel told Lofton. “Ran sits out, so do I.”

  Lofton rolled his eyes. “Dude, your, like, singing powers hardly make the dream team cut anyway. What we really need is the hard-core chick who explodes things and once brought down a Mogadorian warship.”

  “It was only a Skimmer,” Ran corrected.

  “Seriously?” Kopano asked.

  Ran nodded. “And I am not playing. Good luck, though.”

  Lofton sighed. Before he could express his disappointment, Isabela sidled up next to him.

  “Don’t worry, boyfriend. I’ll be on your team.”

  Lofton laughed. He gave Isabela’s butt a squeeze and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Yeah, thanks for the offer, babe,
but we’re going for a full-frontal assault here. You’re not exactly what we’ve got in mind.”

  “Great plan,” Taylor said. Isabela crossed her arms and silently fumed.

  “These army tools have never faced anything like us,” Lofton said dismissively. “We’re going to go right at them. They won’t be ready.”

  Caleb spoke up for the first time, having spent the start of the conversation awkwardly avoiding looking at Taylor. “Actually, uh, I have some ideas we might—”

  Lofton clapped Caleb on the shoulder, cutting him off. “It’s cool, bro. You just make as many decoys as possible and beat some ass.”

  “May I join you?” Kopano asked.

  Lofton raised an eyebrow and looked him over. “You’re supposed to be bulletproof, right?”

  “I may be invincible,” Kopano said. “I also hit very hard.”

  “He’s solid,” Caleb said.

  Lofton shrugged. “Well, at least we didn’t come over here for nothing. You’re in.”

  Kopano grinned. He turned to Taylor as the rest of Team Lofton made their way to the edge of the woods. “Wish me luck.”

  “Do not wish these sexist lunkheads luck,” Isabela snapped.

  “Good luck, warrior,” Taylor said with a smile, ignoring her roommate. “I’ve got a feeling you might need it.”

  They lined up at the edge of the woods. Kopano stood between Nicolas and one of Caleb’s duplicates. With all the clones, there were a dozen of them, ready for battle. They were the first team to make a run.

  “We head straight for the cabin,” Lofton said. “Take out anything in our way. Nothing to it.”

  They all nodded in agreement. Kopano rubbed his hands together and focused. He searched for that feeling of heaviness that Dr. Goode mentioned, the sense of being weighted down. Nothing. He felt tragically normal. But Kopano was sure his Legacy would come when needed; it always did.

  Professor Nine blew a whistle and they were off.

  Team Lofton ran into the woods. For the first few hundred yards, they saw no sign of soldiers. The trees became clumped closer together and they had to weave through them. Kopano felt a rush flow through him—he was on a mission, charging towards a target! This was the kind of heroic experience he’d envisioned.

  Soon, the cabin came into view, only partially visible through a veil of vibrant green foliage. Kopano sensed movement in the windows, but didn’t have a chance to examine that more closely.

  “Hostiles!” Caleb shouted, his six clones echoing his words a moment later.

  Three soldiers stepped out from behind trees. Kopano’s group skidded to a stop with a good bit of distance still between them and their opponents. Each of the soldiers carried what looked like a traditional shotgun.

  “Take them out!” Lofton yelled. The sharpened spines that grew from his skin on command burst through his shirt. He plucked a few of them and flung them at the soldiers.

  The soldiers bolted for cover as Lofton’s darts whistled by them, but not before they each fired a round into the air. Kopano extended his hands and threw up a barrier of telekinesis. His nearby classmates all did the same. It’s what they were trained to do. None of them could reliably stop bullets on their own—not quite yet, at least—but together they were strong enough to slow to a crawl any projectiles coming at them.

  Kopano’s brow furrowed. He expected buckshot or rubber shrapnel like the kind Professor Nine had used on him that morning, but what hung in the air was much different. Each of the shotguns had discharged a metallic round about the size of a beanbag. They glowed and beeped with increasing frequency.

  A countdown.

  “Explosives!” Caleb shouted. At that moment, Kopano recalled how his roommate was what the Americans called an “army brat.” He probably had experience with military tactics and exercises like this one.

  Perhaps they should have planned better, but Lofton’s bravado had been infectious and now it was too late.

  The orbs burst apart with a piercing hiss. Each discharged a thick cloud of orange-tinted gas. Immediately, Kopano’s throat tightened and his eyes burned. The fiery aroma of cayenne filled his lungs.

  Lofton gagged. “We need to pull back!”

  “No!” Caleb shouted. “We’re committed! Push through! Maiken, use your speed, get a funnel going.”

  Caleb’s duplicates didn’t need to breathe. They barreled through the smoke cloud and began to pummel the soldiers. Meanwhile, Maiken, coughing raggedly, began to speed around in a circle, creating enough wind to blow the gas away from them.

  That’s when the rest of the soldiers struck from behind. In their haste to reach the cabin, Team Lofton had passed right by this squadron in hiding. They were surrounded.

  Kopano heard a metallic twang. He turned just in time to see a soldier holding what looked to be a high-tech crossbow. The weapon fired a metal circlet attached to a length of tensile wire. Eyes burning, Kopano couldn’t get his telekinesis working fast enough. The circlet hit him right in the neck, opened on impact and snapped around his throat like a collar.

  A charge went through the collar. An electric shock that drove Kopano to his knees.

  With his telekinesis, Kopano tried to rip the electrified weapon away from the soldier. But just then, another Peacekeeper discharged an oddly shaped gun. The weapon looked like an old-fashioned blunderbuss and filled the air with hundreds of tiny projectiles, the harmless chaff spinning and flashing. The effect wreaked havoc on Kopano’s telekinetic control.

  A trio of darts—tranquilizers, probably—thudded into Kopano’s chest. His Legacy kicked in, prevented the ammo from piercing his chest. A small victory.

  All around him, his teammates were suffering similar attacks. Omar was down already, peppered with darts, and Lofton and Maiken had both fallen victim to collars like Kopano. Meanwhile, Nicolas had been locked into shackles around his wrists and ankles, the bonds magnetized together so that even his enhanced strength couldn’t keep him from folding over. Only Caleb and his clones were left standing, and they were steadily losing ground to the soldiers.

  “Oh, this is bad,” Kopano grunted. He wrapped his hands around the wire that bound him to the soldier’s electric crossbow, but the voltage running through his body only increased. It was too much.

  As Kopano fell face-first into the dirt, he spotted Professor Nine, Greger and Colonel Archibald at the edge of the fray. Archibald smirked, Greger jotted notes in his tablet and Nine scowled.

  Team Lofton never even got close to the cabin.

  Show me something, Professor Nine had said.

  The only thing Kopano showed the administrators was how gracefully he could be knocked unconscious.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PROFESSOR NINE

  THE HUMAN GARDE ACADEMY—POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA

  PROFESSOR NINE STOMPED OUT OF THE WOODS, coming back to Colonel Archibald and Greger. Archibald’s smile was infuriating. Greger, busy feeding notes and ratings into his tablet, glanced up.

  “Where’d you go, Nine?” he asked.

  “To take a leak,” Nine grumbled. He glanced down and zipped up his fly.

  “Are we about ready to wrap things up?” Archibald asked.

  Nine glared at the military man. The day had not gone well for his students. After the first group of Garde had failed spectacularly to make it to the cabin—many of his most talented fighters among them—four more groups employing conservative tactics were similarly dismantled by Archibald’s team of Peacekeepers and their high-tech weaponry. He’d made his disappointment with the Garde obvious, although his stream of insults had dried up about twenty minutes ago, morphing instead into stewing disappointment.

  “I, for one, gathered some interesting insight,” Greger said.

  “Don’t think of this as a failure, Nine,” Colonel Archibald said smugly. “Think of it as a learning experience. Now you know how you can better hone your teaching methods.”

  Before Nine could respond, Nigel approached the edge
of the woods. Behind him, the dejected student body sat in the grass, many of them nursing minor injuries. The scrawny Brit in his spiked-denim vest and combat boots didn’t cut the most impressive figure, even as he cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck.

  “Can I give it a go?” he asked.

  Colonel Archibald raised an eyebrow. “Just you alone, son?”

  “What can I say?” Nigel replied. “I believe in myself.”

  Nine crossed his arms and fixed Nigel with a stern look. “You’re sure you can play by the rules, Nigel?”

  “Aw, of course, boss.”

  “Nonlethal,” Nine said firmly. “Remember. These soldiers have families. They’re on our side. This is just a game.”

  Archibald and Greger both gave Nine a strange look. Nigel raised his hand in a solemn pledge.

  “Swear I’ll be gentle.”

  “All right,” Nine said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Without any sense of urgency, Nigel strolled into the forest. Like they’d done with all the other attempts on the cabin, Nine and the other observers followed behind at a safe distance. Out of the corner of his eye, Nine watched Greger pulling up the Earth Garde dossier on Nigel. He skimmed the file quickly, lips pursed.

  “Pardon me, Professor,” Greger began. “But why did you emphasize nonlethal activity with Mr. Barnaby? I have his powers down as sonic manipulation. I don’t have any notes here about deadly applications.”

  Nine bit his lip. “Uh, well, it’s something we just discovered. The kid reached a frequency the other day that caused aneurysms in rats.”

  Greger’s mouth opened. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nah,” Nine replied. “Some of the research staff reported headaches afterwards, too. One of them had bleeding on the brain. Luckily, we caught it in time. Didn’t Malcolm send out a memo on this?”

  “No,” Archibald said sharply. “He did not.”

  “Fascinating,” Greger said, already making revisions to the file in his tablet.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not something he’s been able to reproduce. Not that it’s something we’ve been trying to reproduce, you know? Probably just a freak thing.”