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“Show me,” she said sharply. “Demonstrate how you would use this for good.”
Greger shied away from the glowing object. He reached inside his jacket and took out his phone, eyes never leaving Ran.
“I will,” he said. “A moment, please.”
While Greger navigated to an internet browser, Ran tossed the charged hammer into the nearby obstacle course’s sandpit. It exploded with a small burst of debris.
Greger held out his phone to Ran. On the screen was a headline from the Guardian. “AUSTRALIAN SOLDIERS MASSACRED IN YEMEN.”
“This happened last week,” Greger explained. “An Australian helicopter was flying routine reconnaissance over a terrorist stronghold. Funny, isn’t it, that after an alien invasion and a complete shift in the bounds of reality that such petty human differences as religion and borders should remain a dire issue, hm?”
“Hilarious,” Malcolm replied dryly.
Without asking permission, Ran took Greger’s phone. She started scrolling through the article, even as Greger explained the contents.
“After an engine malfunction, the helicopter was forced to make an emergency landing,” Greger continued, speaking more to Ran than to Malcolm. “The enemy had the Australians pinned down on all sides. Their positions were deeply dug in. Traditional air support—missiles and such—were deemed too risky. Extraction was impossible. And so, these brave young men and women were left to their fate.”
Ran looked up and locked eyes with Greger. “What could I have done that the military couldn’t?”
“A young lady with your abilities could have detonated enemy barricades with more precision than traditional ballistics,” Greger explained. “Your controlled explosions could have saved these soldiers, while minimizing damage to local infrastructure and civilian casualties.”
Ran flicked a look in Lexa’s direction. The movement was subtle, but she saw it—Lexa nodded once. Ran shoved Greger’s phone into his chest.
“You still do not understand,” she told him. “My explosions—they are not always controlled, not always predictable.”
“Frankly, I think you sell yourself short,” Greger replied. “I’ve watched your training. Better yet, I’ve seen videos of you in the field. You’re incredibly skilled.”
“An expression comes to mind,” Ran answered coolly, deflecting the compliment. “When your only tool is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. I’ve told you before, I don’t want to be Earth Garde’s hammer.”
Smirking, Greger glanced at the shrapnel left from the hammer Ran had just detonated. “An apt metaphor, I suppose. Nonetheless, my recommendation to Earth Garde remains unchanged. You are ready, Ran. You should be fast-tracked for graduation and allowed to begin your service to the world. Inherently destructive as your Legacy might be, it would ultimately save lives.”
Ran suddenly felt tired. This was the same discussion she had with Greger any time he popped up around the Academy. She was tired of it. There were only so many ways to tell a foolish man that you wouldn’t blow people up for the greater good. She turned her back on him and touched Malcolm’s arm.
“Thank you for working with me, Dr. Goode. Can we resume our testing tomorrow?”
“Of course,” he replied with a sympathetic smile. “Go see Taylor and get yourself patched up.”
Ran nodded. Without another word, she stepped pointedly around Greger and stalked towards the training center’s exit. She could hear them talking about her as she pushed through the door.
“One day,” Greger told Malcolm, “she will have to come to terms with what she is.”
“I think,” Malcolm replied icily, “that’s exactly what she’s doing.”
“It was easier than I thought it would be,” Ran told the others that night, when they once again gathered underneath the training center. “He handed his phone right to me.”
“With Greger connected to the Wi-Fi and not paying attention to his device, I was able to gain access,” Lexa said. “I downloaded his contacts, his emails, everything.”
“Find anything suspicious?” Kopano asked.
“Unfortunately not,” Lexa replied.
“Prick could have a second phone, though,” Nigel said with a glance at Ran. He knew the pressure Greger put on her and didn’t like it. Ran appreciated his being so protective, but said nothing. She didn’t think it was likely that Greger was their mole. He was almost too overtly sleazy to be hiding even more sleaze.
“Oh, a guy like that definitely has a second phone,” Isabela put in, blowing on her nails. “One for business and family, one for all his affairs.”
“Dude’s not even married,” Professor Nine said.
Isabela shrugged. “You’ll see.”
“There was one strange thing,” Lexa said, “although I don’t necessarily see a connection to the Foundation.”
Ran leaned forward. “What is it?”
“There were calls, both incoming and outgoing, to some encrypted numbers. It took some work, but I managed to trace them back to the CIA.” Lexa notice Isabela’s blank look. “The United States spy agency.”
“Oh,” Isabela said.
“You know, like Jason Bourne,” Kopano added helpfully.
“Who’s that nerd?” Isabela asked.
Taylor spoke up before they veered too far off-topic. “Greger is Swedish, right?”
“Swiss,” Nine said.
“No, he is indeed Swedish,” Malcolm corrected.
Nine threw up his hands. “This planet has too many countries.”
“Why would a Swedish guy be talking to the CIA?” Taylor asked. “That’s a little strange, right?”
“Could be related to his work for Earth Garde,” Caleb said. “A lot of different organizations are probably interested in us.”
“Too many,” Taylor said.
While the others talked, Nigel got up and sauntered over to the whiteboard. He picked up a black marker and drew a speech bubble next to Greger’s head. Inside, he wrote: Am I evil?
That actually got a laugh from Ran, probably louder than Nigel’s drawing deserved. It felt good—a pressure release almost like when she charged an object.
Evil or not, Greger was wrong about her.
She would show him. She could do more than blow things up.
Chapter Four
ISABELA SILVA
UN PEACEKEEPERS’ MESS HALL—
THE HUMAN GARDE ACADEMY—POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA
“NEW TECH, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” COLONEL Ray Archibald announced. “Just came in.”
The Academy’s head of security, commander of the sizable detachment of UN Peacekeepers tasked with keeping the
students safe, paced back and forth at the front of the mess hall. Except for those currently on duty, all of his soldiers were present, packed onto the benches to listen to the weekly briefing. Archibald was as stern as ever, his cheeks razor-burned, his uniform immaculate.
Lieutenant Halima Ouma, a twentysomething Kenyan soldier who had just rotated in with the Peacekeepers, stood at the back of the room near the door. It was actually Halima’s day off, but no one thought it was odd that she’d come in for the briefing. That kind of dedication always scored points with Archibald.
The real Halima had actually gotten up early that morning, using her off day to take a drive down the coast to explore California. Isabela had watched her go. That’s why she had decided to borrow Halima’s face in the first place. She wouldn’t miss it.
“This here is the Inhibitor 3.0,” Archibald said. He held up what looked to Isabela like a simple silver button, albeit with a needlelike prong poking out of one side. “Obviously, this is meant for more close-quarters deployment than the previous shock-collar version. Once implanted in a Garde’s temple, the Inhibitor emits a signal that disrupts their Legacies. Sydal Corp is working on a delivery system to turn these into smart projectiles, but apparently that’s not ready yet.”
Isabela’s ears perked up at the mention of Sydal Corp. Her friends talked about them, down in their secret lair. They were the weapons manufacturers who supplied both Earth Garde and the Foundation with anti-Garde technology. Their CEO, Wade Sydal, with his baby face and bad goatee, even made an appearance on their bulletin board.
Did they have incriminating evidence against Sydal? Proof of his double-dealing? Isabela couldn’t remember. She didn’t pay much attention in those meetings. They felt like extra homework. She much preferred the exciting stuff.
Like sneaking into the barracks to get Archibald’s data.
“Truth be told, I’d rather us not have to use these things,” the colonel said as he tossed the new Inhibitor onto the table in front of him. “Our job here is to make sure nobody harms these kids. Sometimes, that means making sure they don’t hurt themselves or each other. If we can’t de-escalate a situation without shocking their brains, then we’ve failed at our mission.”
