CHAPTER ELEVEN

Harsh light flooded through the porthole window at the head of my bed. Morning came bright. I sat up, looking for a clock, but there wasn’t one.

Frantic, I straightened my clothes and darted outside. I counted the rooms, then pounded on Lance’s door. No answer. Tim’s door—no answer.

I was on an airship. Outside the Community. If I needed to get up, someone would have come to get me. As it was, the hall was empty.

I headed upstairs and stopped on the second floor, but only heard the soft tick of the heater rattling through the vents. The doors were shut with no sign of movement on the stairs above or below me, and while I heard the distant clang of repairs in the hangar bay, I doubted anyone would come looking in the next few minutes.

I glanced at the bland door in the middle of the hall—the one Pops said had been a brig. After another furtive check to see if anyone was coming, I tried the knob. It turned easily, despite the squeak of unoiled hinges. No light shone inside, so I pushed the door further, fully expecting to see functioning coolers or a dungeon cell with chains and shackles.

Instead, I came face-first with a teetering stack of cardboard boxes. They were all labeled in red and black marker with quickly stroked letters that said: “BOOKS.” “DVDS.” “MISC.”

Farther inside, an old computer covered in thick dust had been positioned beside the door. More boxes were scattered around it and three steel cells towered behind them. I stood on my tippy-toes and peeked inside their peephole windows. Boxes in two, and an empty cell behind the other. It looked like they didn’t use this place much after all.

I scratched my head and checked the doors’ inner frames. The rebels didn’t even have force field technology, if the lack of conduit points suggested anything.

As for the boxes, only a few had been taped over and the closest one with tucked corners sat beside the desktop. The lid gave easily, and once open I found a layer of old books and folders filled with yellowed pages. One book was a few decades old and was filled with text and diagrams. Another had pictures printed with black ink, distant images of strange, mutated creatures racing through jungle and field, and a couple close-ups of a facility somewhere in Central America. The pictures were blurred and indistinct, except one of a creature that looked like it suffered from major burns. The skin around its arms and legs was black and ashy and it lay surrounded by charred foliage.

I ran my finger along the page, skimming for details, then paused at the passage just below the photograph.

March, 2021: I finally secured a picture of this poor fellow. Had others, but most were destroyed in the subsequent attacks. I’ll have to leave the good pics to those with experience. Anyhow, this was a fire beast. Roasted several of my companions before Mendez took him out. From what I can tell, they’ve got a decent range, so long as they have something to burn.

A throat cleared behind me. I dropped the book and spun around, my heart pounding in my ears. Jack leaned in the doorway, the tattered door stopper between his fingers. “I gotta hand it to you for trying to make sure you didn’t get locked in, but it helps to check if the door can be locked from outside.” He tossed the door stopper into the corner and crossed his arms over his chest. “Helpful tip—the only doors around here that can’t be opened from inside are the three behind ya.” He jabbed his thumb at the cell doors, and I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t have his claws back.

“Of course not! But...” I glanced around the musty room. “Why all the boxes?”

He shrugged and scratched his five-o-clock shadow. “Jim’s room is full. I keep trying to convince him these things are outdated, but he seems to think these old books might have some little bit of info that’ll sink the Camaraderie.”

I slipped the book back into its box and tucked the corners how I’d found them. “Where’s Lance and Tim?”

“Upstairs.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you grab some breakfast, and I’ll let Pops know you’re awake?”

I raced for the door before it could shut behind him, but he was right. There was no lock on the door. I let out a sigh of relief and hurried up the stairs. Tim’s voice echoed down the hall, and I found him and Lance sitting in the kitchen at a table stacked with dirty dishes. An empty scabbard rested against the side of the table.

“Pops said to let you sleep.” Lance drummed his fingers on the table. “He sent us to Jack instead.”

“Figures. At least you got up on time,” I grumbled. “What’s for food?”

Lance motioned to the cupboards. “According to Jack, anything you can find. I’d avoid the granola, though. Tastes funny.”

“We’re on an airship with a bunch of rebels, whom we don’t know much about, and you’re complaining about how the granola tastes?”

He held up a polishing rag and grinned. I peered over the table. His sword rested in his lap. For the love of efficiency... I rubbed my fingers against my forehead. “Let me guess, you’ve been cleaning your sword for the past three hours?”

“Two,” he corrected, and returned to polishing the blade, careful not to touch the metal with his fingers. “Jack didn’t give me the supplies I needed until he woke up, which was about an hour after we talked to Pops. But guess what? They don’t care if I carry the sword with me around here! Jack even promised to give me fighting lessons, and he has these katanas—”

“So what about you?” I asked Tim, hoping to avert a long discussion on the craft of various weaponry.

Tim handed me his tablet and twisted his charm necklace between his fingers. “I can’t get a connection with EYEnet or their computers since they don’t keep a wireless network, but Inese gave me a set of documents detailing how anti-gravity technology works. Their flying car was a Camaraderie prototype, and it has an invisibility generator. I’d thought she was using her powers...”

I got it. They each had something of endless fascination, and they’d decided these rebels were trustworthy.

“Have fun with that,” I mumbled, returning his tablet. Mom could make sense of the technical details. Me—not so much.

I headed to the kitchen counter, but this place was in as bad a condition as the hangar. One of the cabinet handles dangled by a single screw, and the sink was lined with seeping cracks. The front side of the fridge was covered in black mildew, and a stained, crumpled towel hung haphazardly off the edge of the counter. The cupboard offered a couple boxes of cereal, a box of instant oats and a tall stack of granola bars, while the rest of the shelves were bare, complete with peeling, floral printed paper. One of the boxes had a brand of cereal I didn’t recognize, with a photograph on the front that showed a bowl with a variety of brightly colored objects floating in milk. Out of everything here, it looked the most appealing. Cereal chosen, I found an open milk container on the upper shelf of the fridge. The odor wasn’t much worse than cafeteria milk, though I guessed it must have been powdered at some point.

After I poured my cereal, I returned to the guys and took a seat. Strange, colorful shapes floated to the top of my bowl and I poked at them with my spoon, letting them bob in the liquid. They didn’t look particularly edible.

I eyed the bowl suspiciously. Sure, cereal usually had some amount of sugar in it, but this was ridiculous. There were marshmallows in my cereal. “I’d prefer corn puffs,” I grumbled, but ate it anyway. The milk was tainted by traces of color from soggy marshmallows, but at least this was food—even if it should’ve been dessert.

After I finished breakfast, Pops joined us in the kitchen. “Good to see you’re awake,” he told me. “Are you feeling all right?”

“More or less.” My legs were stiff and I didn’t want to go flying around in an invisible car anytime soon, but I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out.

He gave us a curt nod and hobbled down the hall. Messy airship aside, Pops reminded me of the dignified E-Leadership officers in the efficiency department with their formal business suits, staunch postures, and general sense that they were in charge.

I rinsed my dishes and put them where I’d found them, then waved to Tim and Lance. “I’m going to see what else I can learn from Jim.”

Once at Jim’s room I knocked on the partially open door. Jim looked up from his book. “Ah. Thought you might return. How can I help?”

I left the door cracked, forcing myself not to greet him formally. “I was wondering what else you can tell me about the world—if you don’t mind.”

The elderly man placed a sturdy bookmark between the pages of his book. “What specifically would you like to know?”

“Well—I want to know more about this rebellion. You mentioned the Oriental Alliance. Do you guys work with them?”

“We work with multiple organizations.” A stack of books rose from Jim’s desk and he slipped a map out from underneath. “While the Oriental Alliance is the largest opposition, there are a few good sized rebellions outside of Asia who undermine the Camaraderie when they can.”

“Why fight the Camaraderie at all? If there’s no war, no one would need beasts.”

The wrinkles on Jim’s forehead creased as he frowned. “They would still root out people with powers, and anyone they see as a threat.” He paused. “Are you interested in history?”

“Sure, but it’s been the same thing since high school. No one talks about pre-Community history, except to mention the riots. If you don’t believe me, I can show you my textbook.”

“Before the Camaraderie, most ‘riots’ were peaceful demonstrations. Camaraderie members incited the riots themselves. The violence gave them a purpose to their claims that the general community needed security... and gave them a means to their rise in power. However, I would be curious to see your textbook. I am interested to know how it has changed.”

I sprang from my seat and accidentally knocked the map off my lap. Someone with pre-Community experience was interested in discussing history? I grinned. “Let me grab it—I’ll be right back.” Jim chuckled as I scrambled to grab the paper from the faded rug and then rushed out the door.

When I returned after several stairs later, there was a thick, hardback book sitting on my chair. I handed Jim my textbooks, then picked up the one he’d left for me. The cover was printed with a bright painting of young ladies in long white dresses, each carrying a basket of grapes. It was a lot more colorful than the covers on the textbooks we had in the Community.

“That book was written before the Camaraderie took power,” Jim said, gesturing to the book in my hands. Each page was ripe with text and illustrations, some familiar and some I’d never seen. My insides fluttered. Not only was this world history, but a pre-plague book was nearly impossible to find. Most of the older books had been burned to prevent further spread of the disease.

“Knowledge is power,” Jim continued, “and history is the greatest knowledge one can use. It is a power that the Camaraderie prefers you do not possess. You can borrow that book if you like.”

“I have an extensive reading list ahead of me.” He motioned to the stack of books on his desk. “Why don’t you hang onto it, and if you have any questions, feel free to return.”

Jim folded his hands across his stomach and smiled. “It is not often I find someone interested in pre-Community history.”

“No idea why.” I stepped to his desk, my arms wrapped around the textbook. Even if these stories turned out to be lies, they’d offer insights about these rebels I couldn’t even begin to ask directly. “Thank you.”

I left his office, still admiring the worn, glossy cover of the hundred-year-old treasure. I had every intention of speaking with him again, and I would definitely add this textbook to my study list.

I spent the next couple hours reading Jim’s history book. Then, shortly after lunch, Inese called everyone to the command center. Sunlight streamed through an uneven set of cracked blinds along the giant windows at front. Even Jim’s silvery walker glinted in the light, leaving tiny, purple dots in my vision. Golden dust specks danced around the crew and swirled in eddies near the computer fans and vents, and Jack waved a particularly thick cluster of dust from his nose.

“Glad you guys made it,” Crush said, nodding to us. Although he looked about Inese’s age—early thirties—he had faint traces of a Welsh accent instead of Inese’s English Community accent. He handed Pops a rectangular, white device. “It should be calibrated now—hopefully it’ll read life signs this time.”

“The scanner contains a list of different power traits,” Pops said. “It reads your genetic radio frequency and matches it with a known set of abilities. If you have powers, you’ll have one major power and up to two minor powers.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You can tell this by scanning? You don’t need any genetic material?”

Pops nodded. “The exact science of radiological genetics was developed by the Camaraderie. Same as a lot of the other tech you see around here. The Community scanners use a code rather than giving the exact details, and whoever administers the scan can use that information to determine whether or not they intend to make the patient a beast or invite them into Special Forces.” He gestured to Lance. “Step forward, please.”

The team dispersed into a semi-circle as Lance went to stand beside Pops, a spring in his step. Since his mom was Special Forces, and agents tended to have powers, it made sense that she might’ve passed them on—and why Lance was so excited.

Pops held the scanner just above Lance’s skull, then lowered the device to his feet, repeating the procedure until the scanner beeped. “Your main power is linked to motor coordination with a weapon or item,” he explained as Lance fidgeted. “It’s a subset of enhanced agility. Put simply, a person with a weapons power can use that weapon as if it were an extension of themselves. They inherently have the reflexes necessary to use that particular type of weapon.”

“Also known as an extreme weapons skill,” Jim said, smiling. “I would bet that your specialty is swords.”

I half expected Lance to start swinging his sword around then and there, his face was so bright. He grinned. “I can go with that.”

“Portals?” Lance glanced between Inese and Jack, one hand cradling the grip of his sword.

I frowned. Portals did sound intriguing, but we’d just left the biological realm of possibility and jumped into quantum physics. Why couldn’t I have been a couple more years into college before this happened? I might’ve actually understood how this was supposed to work.

“We’ll do our best to teach you,” Inese said. “Just takes a bit of training.”

“All right, Tim, you’re next.” Pops set about trying to administer the scan, but after multiple swipes of the device, he narrowed his eyes. “It broke again.”

Crush took the scanner to a computer desk, where he twisted the knobs and tested the voltage, muttering about how it wasn’t even calibrated for binary code or digital images. Everyone waited silently until Crush’s face went red.

Jack glanced over Crush’s shoulder and burst out laughing. “Now, there’s something ya don’t see every day.” He patted Inese on the back. “You could catch a cold in that outfit.”

She raised an eyebrow at Jack, then gathered with the rest of us around Crush, who hid the face of the device against his chest. “Nothing!” he protested. “It’s nothing! Just a glitch!”

Jack chortled and Tim snatched the scanner, giving me a brief glimpse of the black and white image of Inese wearing less than the scantily clad leaders in those cheesy Community brochures.

Pops sighed. “Clear your mind,” he told Tim. “I assume you’ve had a programming class? Picture running a basic program. Focus on the codes.”

The image dissipated into a stream of ones and zeros, and Tim’s face flushed a deep, crimson pink. He sheepishly returned the scanner to Pops.

“Come on, now.” Pops scoffed and resumed his scan. “We’re all adults. Anyway...” Pops turned his attention to Tim. “You have techno sight, the ability to control and manipulate computer technology with your mind. Your second power is enhanced intelligence. I’ll have you spend most of your time here with Crush. He’ll help you understand your powers and train you on navigation, if you wish.”

Tim nodded, his eyes wide and his cheeks pink. Crush forced a weak smile. I could only imagine how hard it would be on him to train someone new right after his brother died on the previous mission.

“Jenna?” Pops held up the device. “While we know you’re a plant elemental, we don’t know what other powers you have. Most people have two or three. I have two powers. Your grandmother had three.”

Pops held up his hand. “He is among those who are shielded. When you weren’t taking the pill, did you notice anything different about him?”

I paused, remembering an incident when I’d hugged him last summer. “If I touched him, everything felt dull. Lifeless.”

“There’s a device, called a Benjamin’s Shield, which blocks powers in an individual. That’s the surgical operation they perform. But shields block all powers, so if a power user comes in direct contact with someone who is shielded, their powers are blocked as well.” He folded his hands overtop his cane, his lips forming a thin line under his salt-and-pepper mustache.