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Isabela reconsidered Archibald. When they did the Wargames event against the Peacekeepers, he had seemed proud of the way his soldiers dismantled the young Garde—at least until Isabela and her friends tricked their way to a victory. Isabela still savored the memory of Archibald’s surprised face when she’d held a tranquilizer gun under his chin. Listening to Archibald now, she wondered if he really did have it out for the Garde, or if that whole training scenario was just his way of teaching the students—and their cocky professor—a hard lesson.
“We were supposed to be getting a new student to the Academy tomorrow.” Archibald continued his briefing. “But the Italians are keeping her, on account of the incident in the Philippines. If any press contact you about Italy’s participation in Earth Garde, you have no comment.”
Isabela zoned out. Was Archibald just an uptight military goon or did he harbor the kind of anti-Garde sentiment that would make him a perfect mole? Isabela would find out soon enough.
“We’ve got the holidays coming up,” Archibald said, oblivious to Isabela’s scrutiny. “The Academy’s headshrinker wants us to be aware that this can be a tough time of year for young people, especially considering most of them won’t be allowed to leave campus for home visits. Let’s be aware of students acting out and potentially trying to sneak off campus. We don’t want a repeat of our recent lapse.”
Isabela allowed herself a small smile. As if they could keep her here if she really wanted to escape.
Archibald opened up a folder on the table in front of him. “As for those home visits, if I call your name, you’ve been assigned to one of those detachments.”
That was enough spying for Isabela. With a telepathic nudge, she pushed Archibald’s folder off the table. With an annoyed grunt, the colonel bent to pick up the papers, and Isabela ducked out the door.
With as many times as she’d snuck off campus, Isabela knew the layout of the Peacekeepers’ base well. The mess hall, the barracks, the armory, the fence that cordoned off the Academy, the gatehouse that led to the road and the outside world, and the private trailer where Archibald stayed.
Pff. If Isabela was a big-shot army guy, she would’ve demanded a much nicer house.
As everyone was in the briefing, no one noticed Halima Ouma approach Archibald’s trailer. Isabela popped the flimsy lock with her telekinesis and slipped inside.
The colonel’s abode was as dull as Isabela expected. His bed was made with such tight precision that Isabela imagined she could hear the mattress squeaking in anguish from the choking hospital corners. There were four books stacked on the nightstand, all of them biographies of US presidents. The man’s vitamins were lined up in a row ordered by size next to the trailer’s small sink. The entire room smelled like piney aftershave. Archibald’s laptop sat on the dust-free linoleum-topped table next to a tin of unsalted peanuts.
Isabela powered up the laptop—background a waving American flag, of course—and inserted into the port the USB drive Lexa had given her. Immediately, some computer stuff started to happen—numbers and progress bars, that kind of crap. Lexa had told Isabela that all she needed to do was plug the drive in for a few minutes and let it do its work.
In the meantime, Isabela ruffled Archibald’s bedcovers. Because why not?
The portable drive emitted a sharp beep when it finished mirroring Archibald’s hard drive. Isabela slipped it back in her pocket, paused, went on the internet, found an image of some hot guys playing volleyball in very small eighties bathing suits, and changed Archibald’s desktop wallpaper.
“Mission accomplished,” she said to herself.
Isabela popped out of Archibald’s trailer and immediately bumped into a soldier rushing towards the mess hall. Both of them nearly fell over from the collision. Isabela cringed. She should’ve peeked out of the trailer first. Was this what Professor Nine meant when he called her impetuous?
“Ouch, Halima, damn,” the soldier said, rubbing his face where it had clipped Isabela’s shoulder. He was young, American, his uniform sloppy. The name on his chest read Pvt. Rhodes. “You late for the briefing, too? My asshole bunkmates turned off my alarm.”
Isabela formed Halima’s lips into a sheepish smile. “Yes,” she said. “I overslept, too.”
“Well, let’s . . .” Rhodes trailed off. He squinted at Isabela, realizing where she’d been coming out of. “Wait. What were you doing in the XO’s . . . ?”
Isabela grabbed Rhodes’s upper arm and squeezed. “Please, don’t say anything,” she said. “It was just a fling and I don’t want to get Ray in trouble.”
Rhodes looked supremely uncomfortable, like he regretted ever bumping into Halima. Isabela smiled inwardly. Good thing that she’d picked a woman to impersonate. It wouldn’t have been so easy to explain away her carelessness if she’d been posing as a male soldier sneaking out of the colonel’s trailer.
“Hi, guys!”
The awkward silence between Halima and Rhodes was broken by Caleb’s chipper greeting. Not Caleb, Isabela could tell immediately, but one of his duplicates. The clone stood there with its unblinking stare, grinning stupidly at the two soldiers.
“I’m Caleb’s sense of adventure and spontaneity,” the duplicate declared. “Do you guys want to shoot some guns or something?”
Rhodes took a cautious step back from the clone. Before he or Isabela could say anything, the real Caleb appeared on the other side of the fence, waving his arms.
“Hey, sorry!” Caleb called. “I lost control of that one.”
Isabela grabbed the duplicate by the arm. “I’ll escort this . . . thing back to campus,” she said to Rhodes. “You can still make the briefing.”
Rhodes nodded, relieved to be away from both Halima and Caleb. The clone went silent as Isabela walked it towards the nearby gate where Caleb waited. Isabela ground her teeth, not wanting her annoyance with Caleb to show.
“Escorting this stray back to campus,” Isabela said to the Peacekeepers at the gate.
They waved her through. Caleb absorbed his duplicate and sulked alongside Halima until they were out of sight of the gate. Only then did Isabela shape-shift back into her true form. They walked back to campus side by side, like they were just out for a stroll.
“I had that under control,” Isabela said sharply.
“Oh,” Caleb replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought that soldier was going to bust you. Figured I could provide a distraction.”
“I had a juicy cover story all ready to go,” Isabela said, her eyes shining. “The boring-ass colonel is having a secret affair with Halima.”
“Um, that would be really inappropriate,” Caleb countered. “You could get Archibald in a lot of trouble if that got out.”
Isabela rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so uptight. Besides, if we find out he’s the mole, the dirty rumors I made up will be the least of his worries.”
“I don’t think Archibald’s our guy,” Caleb said.
“Of course not. You love your army men.”
Caleb frowned at that. “Just because I grew up on a base doesn’t mean I think everyone in a uniform is a saint. But my uncle told me when I first came here that Archibald was a good man. That I could trust him.”
“This is the same uncle who Nigel curses to this day because he stole his pet raccoon?”
“Our Chimæra, yeah,” Caleb replied, looking off into the distance. “They needed to quarantine them, I guess. Not saying my uncle’s always right but . . .”
“And this is the same uncle who pulled some strings so you can go home for Christmas this year while the rest of us are stuck here,” Isabela added.
“I didn’t ask for that,” Caleb replied. “I don’t even want to go home.”
“Sure.”
Caleb looked over at her like he might defend himself further. Instead, he blew out a sigh and fell silent. The two of them walked back to the dorms without speaking. Isabela wasn’t sure why she felt the need to pick on Caleb so much. He’d just been trying to h
elp and she even agreed with him—Archibald probably wasn’t the mole. He was too boring for that.
“Well, sorry I got in your way back there,” Caleb said flatly when they reached the dorms.
“Apology accepted,” Isabela replied with a huff.
Caleb trudged into the dorms while Isabela continued on towards the faculty building to deliver the USB drive to Lexa. She pursed her lips, feeling bad for how she’d spoken to him. Oh well. He’d get over it. Hopefully.
“This teamwork shit,” Isabela muttered, “is not for me.”
Chapter Five
NIGEL BARNABY
HEALTH AND WELLNESS OFFICE
THE HUMAN GARDE ACADEMY—POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA
THE NIGHTMARE ALWAYS STARTED THE SAME. NIGEL was barefoot, in the cozy pajama pants he used to wear as a kid, his arms shoved inside his T-shirt sleeves and crossed over his stomach to keep warm. His breath misted in a cloud in front of his face. His toes were numb, but he could still feel the brittle ice beneath him, cracking and buckling with his every step.
He was back in Iceland. Out on that frozen lake.
Nigel looked over his shoulder. There should’ve been land behind him, a cabin, but there was nothing. Nothing except for ice in all directions.
So, he staggered onwards, unable to do anything else. His teeth chattered. The sound of the ice snapping echoed in his ears. A snow flurry blew across his face and he could feel snot frozen to his upper lip.
There were shadows in front of him. People, barely visible in the gloom. If he could just make it to them . . .
But then he heard their voices, their cruel laughter. Mocking him for his stupid pants. They were the boys from the Pepperpont Young Gentlemen’s Preparatory Academy. His old school, the one he’d left behind when the invasion happened, when he leaped at the opportunity to become someone else. The old dread came over him. He wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go.
They were coming towards him now. Some of them brandished lacrosse sticks and riding crops.
