5

BRIDGER

FEBRUARY 11, 2147

“Hello, Mr. Creed,” a chipper voice says, while a hand pats the side of my cheek.

My eyelids don’t want to open. I pry them apart, and instantly squeeze them shut again. Bright sunlight pours in the windows. And the room is all white and filled with an antiseptic scent. I’m in the med center at the Academy. After every mission, each cadet is required to have a checkup to make sure we haven’t suffered any ill effects from time traveling, or picked up any type of disease from the past. Why does it have to be so bright?

“Oh, no you don’t. You’ve been sleeping all night. Time to wake up!”

Wait … sleeping all night? My eyes fly open. I’m lying in a bed, dressed in a flimsy tan medical robe. Next to me is a man with bright orange hair, dressed in a white uniform with a large blue stripe across the chest and down the sleeves. He must be a new nurse. I’ve never seen him before.

I start to ask him why I’m here, then the memories return with a jolt. The protests yesterday. Seeing the girl I thought was Vika. The panic attack—the first I’ve had in over five months. Of course they would toss me in the med center overnight. I groan and cover my face with my hands. This is not good. I bet Chancellor Tyson is regretting his decision to promote me. I wonder if he’s ready to demote me back to Professor March’s group.

“You look like you might vomit, Mr. Creed. Do you need a nausea patch?” the nurse asks.

“No, I’ll be fine,” I say, forcing myself to inhale slowly. I have no idea what kind of meds I’ve been given since yesterday. Plenty of Calmer, for sure. But I don’t need anything else. What I need is to get out of here.

The nurse shrugs. He takes my vitals and punches the information in on his DataPad. Before he leaves, he points to the tiny closet in the corner of the room. “Your uniform is in there. Once the doc comes in to officially clear you for release, you can get dressed.”

I can’t wait that long. My head swims a little as I push up from the narrow bed to stand and stretch. Cold air creeps through the paper-thin robe, and my skin erupts in goosebumps. I wonder how much Calmer I was given. Clearly enough to knock me out in the middle of all that chaos.

Oh fure. What will my mother say about this? Over the past year, she’s tried to play the part of “nice and supportive parent” more, but her usual witchlike nature claws its way to the surface when I don’t perform to her expectations. At least I don’t have to hear from her right away. A few days ago she left for New Orleans. She’s one of the artifact retrieval experts on a mission to salvage artifacts from the Hurricane Katrina disaster in 2005. She’s scheduled to return this Tuesday.

I cross the small room and open the narrow closet. Inside, I find my uniform, freshly laundered. I’m sliding on my boots when the door to my room opens. “Will I be able to leave soon?” I ask, thinking it’s the nurse or doc.

“Well, I don’t know, but I really hope so.”

I turn around to find Zed standing in the doorway. He stands there looking all awkward. “So, are you going to invite me in, or just stare at me?”

I can’t help but laugh and wave him in. “Sure thing.” Once Zed is seated at the chair by the bed, I ask, “What are you doing here? This place has to be cramping your style.”

Instead of cracking a smart retort, Zed claps his hands together and stares at the floor. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted yesterday. I know you’ve had it rough since last year, and I’ve been pushing you to be the same old Bridger. And that was wrong. I guess it took me seeing you wild out yesterday for it to really click with me. So … I’m sorry.”

His face is bright red, even to the tips of his ears. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen Zed act like this before. Zed, who’s super confident and always joking around. Zed, who thinks being serious is overrated.

I clear my throat. The air feels thick in the room all of a sudden. Awkward. “Look, man, don’t worry about anything. We’re good. We’ve been friends for a long time now, so I know you don’t mean half of what you say.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just … I just thought I needed to apologize to you. And I promise I won’t be such a dick anymore. Elijah and I had a long talk before he went home, and we both agreed that we need to give you whatever time you need to get better. But we also don’t want to abandon you. So, whatever you want from us, just ask.”

A warm feeling engulfs my whole body. I’m grateful that someone, especially Zed, is reaching out to me. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Zed seems like he wants to say something else, but then a familiar, deep voice fills the room. “Well, well. What is going on in here?”

My head snaps up. Standing in the doorway are two men. Chancellor Tyson, in his ever-present black uniform, and a tall man with pale skin and gray hair, dressed in dark-brown pants and a plain white button-up shirt. It’s Dad’s old boss, General Thomas Anderson. I’m shocked. I haven’t seen him since I wilded out last year.

Why are they both here now?

I straighten as the two men cross the room. Chancellor Tyson asks Zed to give us privacy. After Zed makes a hasty exit, the chancellor sits on the chair next to the bed, while General Anderson comes up to me and extends his hand. I stare at it for a few seconds, wondering if I should shake it. He was always pleasant to me when Dad was still alive. But after Dad’s death, the general became secretive and wouldn’t tell us what happened to him. Said it was classified. I didn’t believe him then, and I still don’t.

Now, my feelings go beyond mere annoyance. I feel a sudden surge of loathing. But that’s irrational. Probably nothing more than a side effect of everything that happened yesterday. I square my shoulders, then reach out and give his hand a firm shake.

“It’s nice to see you, sir,” I say, trying to inject some warmth into my voice, despite the chill I feel.

The general smiles. More wrinkles appear around his eyes and mouth than I remember. Maybe the conflicts with the Purists are taking their toll on him, too. “It’s good to see you too, son.”

Something tries to crawl to the surface of my memories when he says this. Son. Something about that doesn’t sit well with me. But why? General Anderson hasn’t done anything to me, other than keeping the truth about Dad’s death from my family.

“So, I guess you’re wondering what we’re doing here,” he says, his eyes flicking momentarily over to Chancellor Tyson.

“Yes, sir, I kind of was,” I reply, sitting on the edge of the bed. I wish they would leave. Something about their visit feels off.

Chancellor Tyson leans forward and clasps his hands. “Mr. Creed, you don’t have to worry about anything. I simply wanted to check in on you this morning, since you had to stay here overnight. Thomas was visiting the campus this morning and decided to tag along. That’s all.”

General Anderson nods. “After the protests yesterday, I felt it would be a good idea to see for myself what kind of damage was done, and determine whether there are places where we can beef up security.” His expression turns dark. “I don’t see these kinds of Purist scare tactics going away anytime soon.”

His words make sense. Yet somehow, they don’t ring completely true. I wonder if he’s not telling me something. Why would General Anderson even care about me? I’m just the son of his deceased employee. Other than the fact that he’ll one day be my boss—if I’m accepted into the military, that is—he has no reason to be interested in me.

The door to my room slides open again. The chancellor and general look behind them, and I follow their gaze to the person standing in the doorway.

It’s a woman of medium build in a navy-blue military uniform, her iron-gray hair cut shorter than mine. My dad’s mom, Brigadier General Judith Creed. I sit up a bit straighter, surprised to see her. Growing up, my brother Shan and I usually only saw her a few times a year since she was frequently reassigned to different DTA military bases around the Federation. But in January, she transferred to New Denver to be closer to us. She said we needed a positive influence in our lives since Dad wasn’t here for us anymore. That may be true, but I suspect that her move had more to do with me wilding out last year.

On a good day, Grandma looks like she could cut you with her eyes. Today she’s positively livid. She marches in the room and stops just before the general and chancellor, fixing each of them with a stare that makes me feel nervous for them.

“What the hell are you two doing in here with my grandson?” she asks in a low voice.

Chancellor Tyson begins, “Now, don’t get upset, Judith. We’re just here to check on Bridger.”

“The hell you are. Is this some sort of interrogation? Because if this is, I should have been informed, in his mother’s absence. In fact, I should have been informed last night that he was put in here. But no, I had to find out this morning when one of your incompetent privates finally told me the truth.” By the time Grandma finishes, her cheeks are flushed. I haven’t seen her this mad in a long time. What could have possibly made her this angry?

“Well, under the circumstances, I’m sure you understand why we couldn’t contact extended family members,” Chancellor Tyson snaps.

Grandma looks at him like he’s lost his capacity for rational thought. “I’m well aware of what happened yesterday. And I’m also aware that parents were allowed to retrieve their children, so I don’t see why I wasn’t informed about my grandchild’s location. I could have picked up Shan and Bridger last night.”

When I hear my brother’s name mentioned, I feel a slight sense of shame. I hadn’t even thought to ask about him. “Where’s Shan now?”

“He’s in his quarters, along with all the other cadets who were not released to a parent or permanent guardian,” Chancellor Tyson says.

Grandma lets out a huff. “I’m their grandmother, and you know perfectly well that I’m qualified to take care of my grandsons while their mother is away.”

“Well, we don’t have her permission to release them to you.”

“Are you seriously going to play this game with me, Doran? Because we can take this to DTA headquarters if you like.”

Chancellor Tyson starts to stand, but General Anderson holds up a hand. “I think, given the circumstances, it would be fine for Judith to take the boys. What could it hurt?”

Nobody says anything for the longest few seconds of my life. I just sit there, hoping the chancellor will listen to reason. I need to get out of here.

Chancellor Tyson pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly. “Fine, you can take them with you, but only under the condition that you do not let them out of your sight. The last thing I want to deal with is an angry Morgan Creed when she returns.”

Grandma waves a dismissive hand and snorts. “Morgan is always angry. Let me deal with her.”

“Now that’s something I’d like to see,” General Anderson says with a smirk.

Grandma’s head whips around and she gives him a death glare. “My business is not for your amusement … sir.”

I’m gaping at them, open-mouthed, by this point. Even though Grandma is also a general, Anderson still outranks her. But she’s obviously not afraid of him.

General Anderson’s eyes narrow for a moment, then he lets out a laugh. “I’ve missed having you around here, Judith. Never a dull moment.”

Grandma shakes her head and comes over to my side. She sits awkwardly on the bed, careful not to touch me. “How are you feeling? Are you dizzy or anything?”

Before I can answer, Chancellor Tyson says, “I talked to his doc earlier and he assured me that Bridger is fine. He was only overwhelmed because of the protests. The doc feels that was understandable, considering the time trip that Bridger just returned from. And as a matter of fact, several more of his teammates had to visit the med center yesterday thanks to the upset.”

Unsettled that I feel so much better after hearing that, I focus on the white-tiled floor. “Did anybody else have to be sedated in front of everybody?”

“Well, no. But you have nothing to be ashamed about, Bridger. That is, unless there’s anything else you want to tell me?” Chancellor Tyson is still smiling, but that last question betrays the real reason for his visit. He’s trying to figure out if I’m about to lose my mind again.

I close my eyes. I think about how scared leaving the shuttle made me, the fear that nearly froze me in place upon hearing the gunshot. Then the complete shock at seeing someone who looked so much like Vika. It nearly did me in.

I can’t let them know that. Not any of them.

“Is that question really necessary?” Grandma snaps.

I glance at her and say, “It’s all right. I don’t mind answering.” Turning my attention to the chancellor and general, I continue, “I’m fine. It was like you said, just the shock of coming from a violent protest in the past to one in the present. Things like that shouldn’t be happening now.”

The chancellor and general both murmur in agreement. Chancellor Tyson checks his DataLink, stands, and says to the general, “I have a meeting in an hour, so we should go now.”

“Of course,” General Anderson replies.

“Take it easy for the rest of the weekend, Mr. Creed. I expect you back at the Academy Monday morning, ready to resume your studies,” the chancellor says.

He exits the room before Grandma can say anything else. The general starts to follow. Before he leaves, he pats me on the shoulder. “I think you’re doing just fine, Bridger. I’m sure your father would be proud of you.”

I get an unexpected lump in my throat. I’d give anything for my dad to be here now. Grandma holds her gaze steady on the general, but I see her swallow a few times.

“If you need anything, feel free to contact me,” the general says. “I always look out for my own.”

Then he pivots and quickly exits the room.

And I’m left wondering what he means by that. Could that be his way of saying I will be accepted into the DTA’s military division? If only I knew that were true.

Grandma breaks the silence. “Well, that was complete bullshit. But at least I can take you and Shan home with me for a few days.”