11

Dillon basically coasted through that afternoon, apparently carried by the bliss of helping a beautiful damsel in distress. One who claimed to be in his debt. Sean had actually heard Carey say the words. Between the next two classes Sean was tempted to remind Dillon of the chances he had, attaching his star to a girl that good-looking. But he let his brother float for a while longer. Besides, the disconnected feeling he’d had all day had begun to solidify into something else entirely. A deep sense of foreboding drifted in the school’s air, coagulating just overhead, like his own personal cloud of doom.

Their last class was interrupted by Carey showing up. She nervously smiled their way as she handed a note to the English teacher, who announced, “Misters Kirrel, it appears you are summoned by higher authorities.”

The teacher had that manner of speaking, like she was quoting poetry when she was correcting their punctuation. Sean liked her well enough, though the odes she loved to read out loud were good for a last-class snooze. But there was no chance of dozing off now, not with his heart going like the beast beneath the Charger’s hood.

When they were in the empty hallway, Dillon revealed his own share of the tremors when he asked, “Is the thing with Eric coming back to bite us?”

“They don’t tell me anything.” Carey served as part-time office assistant. Sean had heard her describe the job as a totally new level of boring. Even so, her presence definitely perked up every male student’s visit to the principal. She went on, “When I showed up for my three minimum-wage hours, Ms. Levitt handed me the pink slip and said go. I went.”

Carey still carried herself with a mildly shattered air, as though her world had been reknit but with one part missing. She tried for bright and almost succeeded. Sean doubted anyone else would know just how close to the edge she was. He liked how Dillon touched her arm, a friend who wanted to offer strength in a hard time.

Dillon asked, “You doing okay?”

She did her best to make light of it. “I got the jitters in the middle of class. And I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. Otherwise, I’m okay.”

“I could hang around, play your personal security.”

Carey smiled, like she had been waiting all day for Dillon to offer. “Maybe we should discuss this.”

As they approached the admin offices, Sean’s feeling of impending doom grew stronger still. “Are we up for the firing squad?”

“I haven’t seen Eric or his crew or the coach.” It was Carey’s turn to pat Dillon’s arm. “If they show up, so will I.” She pointed them to the bench that students referred to as the hot seat and disappeared into the inner sanctum.

Dillon asked Sean, “You okay?”

“Worried. Tired. Semi-stressed.”

“Carey’s got our back.”

“Looks like it’s your back she’s interested in.”

Carey emerged and said, “She’s got someone with her. You okay hanging here awhile?”

Sean was about to reply, “Like we have a choice.” But Dillon was already up and swinging around the counter, back into her private space. Like he chatted with beautiful people every day of the week. And Carey welcomed him with a smile. A real one.

Sean didn’t know whether he felt jealous or not. Just then, the sense of a storm beyond the horizon was all he had room for.

Dillon was still over there, talking softly and making Carey laugh, when her phone rang. She answered, hung up, and announced, “Okay, guys. You’re up.”

They walked into the office and found Carver seated across from the principal. Only it was a Carver transformed. Gone was the missing hand, the scar, the casual wear. In their place was a gentleman in a very fine suit, polished shoes, Rolex, even a gold class ring. A new alligator briefcase rested in his lap.

“Sean, Dillon, come in. I assume you know Colonel . . .”

“Carver.”

“Colonel Carver says you have proven to be of remarkable help in researching a book project?” Clearly Ms. Levitt was having difficulty actually fitting the components of that sentence together. So she fashioned it into a question.

Sean for one found no need to respond. Beside him, Dillon remained mute as a post.

“And your book project . . .”

“Is on new directions in military response,” Carver replied. “The required research is considerable. And I have a very tight deadline.”

“Yes. You said. One month.”

“Actually, we are down to just twenty-eight days.”

“So you would like to have me excuse these students from their final two weeks of class.”

Sean piped up, “Nine days.”

“Indeed.”

Carver said, “I have been granted a research stipend. Which I would use to pay for the time of these two students. And they would also be rewarded with quite a considerable amount of learning.”

Ms. Levitt was not convinced. “Are either of you gentlemen interested in military matters?”

“Not until we started working on this,” Sean replied.

“Now I’m fascinated,” Dillon said.

“But it’s pretty exhausting,” Sean said. “We put in some long hours.”

“Day and night,” Dillon agreed.

Carver said, “But they can earn in one month what many of your students can’t attain in an entire summer.”

“And we haven’t been able to find any other job at all,” Sean said.

“I see.” The principal was a tight woman. Tight features, tight hair, narrow glasses over a tight gaze. Thin lips. Narrow voice, like she was always slightly winded by the need to speak at all. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t simply allow them to forgo their schoolwork.”

Sean knew what was coming before Dillon took a breath. His brother was going to whine. As in, the last nine days of class were a total waste of good air. The teachers were counting down the clock as much as the students, who mentally were already poolside. Nothing got done. Which Sean knew was totally the wrong thing to say to a woman who was readying her narrow little arguments.

But Dillon was too far away to nudge. So Sean punched him with the force. One little blow. Quick and light as he could make it, straight to the ribs.

Dillon whoofed out all the unspoken protests.

“Are you all right, young man?”

Dillon shot his brother a sour look. “Something in my chest.”

Carver glanced over at Sean. Cast him the quick dimples. The slight unfrosting of that hard gaze. There and gone. He turned back to the principal. “I understand your need to follow protocol. Which is why my superiors have set up a conference call with the school superintendent.”

She faltered. “I beg your pardon?”

“That was why I came here today. I assumed it would require a higher-level entreaty. And we really do not have time to spare.”

“Every hour counts,” Sean agreed solemnly. Carver wasn’t the only guy who knew how to swallow his laughter.

Ms. Levitt toyed with her pen. “I suppose we could permit these gentlemen to miss their final three days.”

“And be released from school for the remaining days at lunchtime,” Carver suggested.

Sean added, “Please.”

She offered him a smile that remained about ten thousand miles from her narrow gaze. “I suppose that might be possible.”

Carver was already moving. “I assure you, madam, these gentlemen will be well rewarded by your kindness.”

Carver had somehow managed to drive the Charger to school, but he showed no interest in getting back behind the wheel now that Dillon was around. Which meant Dillon’s day was about as complete as it could get. He was leaving school behind the wheel of a new SXT, after rescuing the girl he had no business even talking to, and hearing the principal say his school hours had just been cut by sixty percent. Sean crammed himself into the rear seat and wondered why he felt none of his brother’s delight. But there was something to the day, a faint odor of caution and menace. Or perhaps he was just not used to things going their way.

When they pulled into the drive, the front door opened, and the Examiner scowled down at them.

Carver said, “He’s early.”

Dillon showed his second dose of fear that day. “We’re going to be tested? Why didn’t you say something?”

“There was nothing to be gained by alarming you in advance.” Carver turned so he could address both of them. “You know the drill. Create the portal, pass through, return. Then in the second portion, raise the shield, defend, attack. You have already successfully accomplished both tasks. Remember your lessons. You will do fine.”

Sean followed them up the steps and into the house. He pretty much managed to ignore the Examiner’s irate presence. Something at gut level told him the Examiner was not the reason for how he felt. Which was not a good thing. If there was a threat out there worse than having his mind wiped, it had to be bad indeed.

Carver asked, “Which of you wants to go first?”

“I am the one to make that decision,” the Examiner snapped.

Carver just sighed.

The Examiner pointed to Sean and said, “You. Out.”

“Go wait in the kitchen, Sean.”

Sean wanted to tell Carver how he was feeling, but their instructor remained in the living room. The door was shut and Sean could not hear anything beyond a faint murmur. Ten minutes later Dillon walked in, flushed but pleased enough to declare, “Piece of cake.”

When Sean took his place in the living room, the Examiner’s frown seemed somewhat displaced. As though things were so far removed from his expectations that he was being forced to rethink his assessment. Which should have been good for a grin. But the sense of unease remained, even as Sean successfully created the portal, passed through to the train station, and allowed Carver to draw him back.

Sean performed three more transits. Throughout the test, the Examiner did not actually look his way. Carver, however, appeared genuinely pleased.

When the Examiner remained silent after the fourth transit, Carver opened the kitchen door and said, “Outside, both of you.”

Carver positioned them under the repaired awning, then said, “Raise your shields, then on the Examiner’s word you attack.”

The Examiner protested, “Once again, those are instructions I should give.”

This time Carver did not back down. “Follow the protocol you practiced all weekend.”

Tirian glowered at Carver and said, “Shields up.” A moment’s pause, then, “Attack.”

Sean sent the blows at Dillon, he got the licks in return, they both plowed furrows in the bare earth, same as before. Again, Sean was fairly certain the guy did not bother watching. After a few minutes the Examiner said, “Enough.”

Sean nodded in response to Dillon’s wide grin. Inwardly he tried to identify what had him so knotted up. He wondered if maybe that was all it was, learning to accept that the bad old days were truly behind them.

The Examiner did not seem to be able to hold on to his customary heat as he said, “This changes nothing.” He took a step, like he was walking off the rear porch, and vanished.

Carver sighed once more, then said, “Inside.”

When they were seated around the kitchen table, Carver said, “What the Examiner in his wisdom failed to inform you of is that you are ahead of schedule.”

Dillon said, “That’s good, right?”

Carver looked at Sean’s brother, like he was trying to decide how much to say. “It is better than that. You appear to be accelerating. You have both managed to attend night class. Your skill with the Serenese language is improving. Your shields are well grounded, your attacks almost natural. Your training overall is moving at twice the standard rate.”

Sean asked, “So we’ll be done in two weeks?”

Carver’s implacable gaze turned his way. “You are so eager to be rid of me?”

“No,” Dillon said. “Definitely not.”

Sean replied, “I just want to be done with the tests.”

“The tests will continue for several years. Longer, if you specialize. But the risk of being mind-wiped ends with the conclusion of tier one. And yes, that could come more swiftly than expected.” Carver glared at the empty space beyond the kitchen door. “No matter what the Examiner might think.”

“Well, all right.” Dillon grinned at his brother. When Sean did not respond, he asked, “What’s eating you?”

“Ever since midday I’ve had this feeling that something’s seriously wrong.”

Carver waved that aside. “Such unsettled moments are part of learning to transit. Your entire definition of reality is being redrawn. Be patient. Rest when you feel the need.” He pulled out a drawer in the table and withdrew a manila envelope. “I have something for you.”

The “something” turned out to be two sets of keys to the Charger.

And two packets of cash. Fifties and twenties.

“I prefer to pay you in advance,” Carver said. “Now go out and celebrate. That’s an order.”