ECHO Academy

1 Meimi When we last left our heroine… I stand on an almost-empty street of the planet Umbra. That’s right. Not Earth. Umbra. This isn’t one of my science books or simulations either. I, Meimi Archer, have journeyed to a completely different planet, solar system, galaxy, blabbity blah. It all went by in a flash. I left a party, stepped into a drift void, and—WHOOSH—now I’m here. Taking in a deep breath, I seek to truly process that fact. Total fail. So I check my outfit instead. My frilly pink dress is ruined. Meh. Clothing isn’t normally my thing. I’m more of a dark matter and quantum particles type gal. But in this moment? A trashed outfit feels super easy to face. The alien planet situation? Not so much. Plus, there’s an evil space cowboy lurking nearby who happens to be Emperor of the Omniverse. I’m not even kidding. And did I mention how his Imperial Dudeness wants to kill my boyfriend, Thorne, who’s the only other person around? Yup, that’s happening, too. Ding, ding, ding! An internal alert goes off in my noggin, saying it’s time to re-examine the hem of my gown again. Yup, still matted up with dirt and prairie grass. And is that a dead bug under the lace? Ick. Get a grip, Meimi. You’re here to help Thorne. It takes a great force of will, but I sideline my clothing analysis and scan my surroundings. Ahead of me stretches a thin street flanked by wooden buildings. Names like saloon and sheriff are written on the facades in chipped paint. All the water troughs are rotted out. A broken shutter bangs in the wind. Basically, it’s your classic deserted town of the Old West variety. Down the road stands Thorne, Prince of Umbra and general hottie in black body armor. He’s my age—around eighteen—with dark hair, blue eyes and a warrior’s build. Plus he has dimples. That’s an issue. In the end, I blame that smile for why I hauled my cookies across the universe to help fight Cole, the thug who’s more than Thorne’s attacker or emperor. Cole also happens to be Thorne’s father. I know. Twisted. Speaking of the emperor, Cole stands a towering seven feet tall, making him a mountain of a man with rough skin and cropped gray hair. He sports a Stetson, eye patch, leather pants and heavy boots… and all that the emperor wears is black as midnight. No false packaging with this guy. Cole narrows his eyes in my direction. “Welcome to Umbra.” He tips his Stetson. With that movement, the hat bursts into a small dust cloud before disappearing back into Cole’s flesh. This isn’t a magic trick; Cole wields powerful nanoparticles called Crown Sentient. That’s the killer part of my killer cowboy situation. Regular sentient help all Umbrans travel through space, fight battles, see the future, you name it. But Crown Sentient do all that on steroids… and only for the emperor. “Here’s where you’ll die,” Cole adds. I roll my eyes. Like that idea didn’t occur to me already. “No!” Thorne rounds on his father. “Keep your word. This is our fight. Meimi stays free.” Cole snarls out a single word. “Maybe.” No question what that means. Cole plans to murder us both. My stupor instantly vanishes. Obsessing about dresses? That was so forty seconds ago. Right now, I have a single thought. Save the prince. Hoisting up my skirts, I race toward Thorne. Ten yards. Moving with impossible speed, Cole throws dozens of rapid punches at his son’s skull, ribs and kidneys. Thorne counters just as quickly, blocking each attack. Cole pauses, barely winded. Meanwhile Thorne braces his arms on his knees as he catches his breath. Five yards away now. “Son,” declares Cole. “This is getting on my nerves.” A cloud of particles appears around Cole’s right arm. The next instant, those dark sentient solidify into a long Winchester rifle. Fear prickles across my skin. Cole raises the weapon, aims at Thorne, and fires. BOOM! The bullet strikes Thorne squarely in the chest. My guy gets thrown across the street, through a glass window, and into a building marked saloon. I do a double take. Triple take. The emperor’s super-powerful alien gun just blasted my boyfriend across a street. That’s not something you see every day, even on a movie feed. My pulse moves into hyper drive. Cole talks a big game about killing his son. Did he just murder Thorne? Scanning the broken window, Cole rests his rifle on his shoulder. “Bet you didn’t know Crown Sentient could do that, eh?” My body turns numb with shock. Everyone knows what guns can do. And super-charged Crown Sentient guns? It’s only logical that Cole’s weapon would pack more power. To me, the rifle isn’t what’s shocking… it’s the fact that Cole is Thorne’s father. And the emperor shows zero concern that Thorne may be hurt. Worry twists through me. Thorne could even be dead. Cole speeds across the dirt road. I rush behind the emperor, following him into the empty saloon. Overturned tables and chairs cover the floor. A booze counter stands stocked with broken bottles. Wind tinkles random keys on a busted player piano. It’s creepy as all get out. Thorne sits against the far wall. The wood behind him buckles from the force of his spine having slammed onto the panel. He twitches; I freeze. Thorne’s alive. Yes! What I see next makes my heart sink. With every breath, Thorne’s lungs gurgle ominously. Splatters of blood line the nearby wall and floor. Oh, no. Thorne’s dying. This can’t be happening. Cole saunters over to Thorne and stops. Raising his right arm, the emperor points his rifle toward Thorne’s face. Cole then launches into a long list of my guy’s execution-worthy crimes. All the while, that rifle stays jammed against Thorne’s cheek. No time to lose. I’m so done watching Cole beat up my boyfriend. Time to take things into my own hands. Literally. Reaching into my dress pocket, I pull out a small container which contains swarm sentient, a variety that forms something far better than a shotgun. Not that this is a big space competition for who has the best stuff. It’s more of a science fair. In any case, I plan to win. Swarm sentient can take a unified shape that includes a central consciousness. Basically, I’ve got more of a killer pet than a boring old gun. My particular swarm becomes a semi-transparent creature called the Lacerator. And it’s as badass as its name. I open the container. Sentient particles seep out of the tiny box, congealing into the shape of a semi-solid monster that towers seven feet tall. The Lacerator has a wide chest, stout legs, and empty holes serve as its eyes. Dinosaur-style spikes protrude from its spine. Razor-sharp teeth line its overly wide mouth. Who cares if this swarm looks like a connect the dots dinosaur? My Lacerator is just the best. Pictures appear in my mind—that’s how the Lacerator communicates. Based on the images, the monster clearly wants me to issue a command. That’s easy. “Heal Thorne,” I order. “NOW.” The Lacerator bursts into a cloud of particles. The sight reminds me of a miniature tornado as it whirls across the saloon floor. Broken chairs and tattered playing cards get caught in the motion. Bands of fear tighten around my rib cage. I just ordered the Lacerator to cure Thorne, but that’s more of a hope than anything else. I haven’t actually seen the Lacerator do anything but kill stuff. My breath catches. Can a sentient swarm fix a bullet wound? The swarm slams into Thorne’s chest. Dark particles swirl across my guy’s arms, neck and face, forming moving tattoos of pinwheel-type lines. The ink-like markings seep right into Thorne’s flesh, merging with his body. The scientist part of me thinks that’s cool tech. The girlfriend side just wants to be Thorne not-nearly-dead already. What happens next takes place in seconds, but forever seems to eke by as color returns to Thorne’s skin. His bruises fade. Blood dries up and vanishes. After shaking his head, Thorne hops to his feet. Now that’s a recovery sign if I’ve ever seen one. I exhale. Chalk up one for our side. “Well done, Meimi,” says Thorne. Even his dimpled smile is back. I give him a mock curtsey because one, I’m wearing a dress; and two, it’s never a bad time for sass. Cole staggers backward, the sentient rifle vanishing from his hands. The emperor’s face pales with shock. “What?” Cole points at my nose. “Humans can’t order sentient around.” “Well, I just did,” I retort. “Get used to it.” Cole raises his arms. Once more, black particles swirl around his hands. This time, the Crown Sentient congeal into the shape of a lasso that’s held tightly in the emperor’s fist. With a snap of his wrist, the rope whips out from Cole’s grip. And it heads in my direction. Thorne races toward me. “Get down, Meimi!” There isn’t time. One moment, I’m standing free. The next, a line of rope encircles my throat. I try to gulp in fresh air. Useless. The rough lasso bites into my skin. Yet it also calls to my soul. What happens next is pure instinct. Seconds ago, I communicated with the Lacerator using mental images. Now I send out a new command to the Crown Sentient around my neck. With all my focus, I imagine the lasso merging into my body. Nothing happens. I writhe to get free. The skin on my throat chafes and bleeds. My lungs ache for air. Once again, I picture the lasso melting into the same swirling markings I just saw on Thorne. Again, there is no response. Will the Crown Sentient ever act? Suddenly the emperor’s lasso bursts into a haze of particles. Hope sparks in my chest. It’s working! There’s a tickling sensation as markings appear on my throat, followed by a zing of electricity against my skin. No doubt, the Crown Sentient just merged into my body, the same as they did to Thorne. Power thrums through my nervous system. Every corner of my soul vibrates with energy. Pain sears into my skull. It strikes me that I’m experiencing the worst ice cream headache of my life, times ten. The agony ends as quickly as it began. One fact appears with absolute certainty. I’ve taken in Crown Sentient. Feels pretty good. “How can this be?” Cole staggers backward. “You’re not Umbran. And even if you were, no one but the emperor can take in Crown Sentient.” I bob my brows. “Oh, say it’s impossible again. I love it.” An idea appears. “How about this?” For my next feat of amazingness, I imagine Thorne taking in Crown Sentient as well. With the picture firmly in mind, I raise my hand. Sure enough, Crown Sentient rise from my palm and race across the room. Fast as a whip, the sentient encompass Thorne in what looks like a dust cloud before turning into the same swirly markings as before. Those inky lines quickly seep into Thorne’s chest, hands and mouth. “This isn’t happening,” thunders Cole. “That boy is too weak.” “Maybe you need to expand your definition of what it means to be strong,” counters Thorne. I shoot him a thumbs-up. Good point there, alien boyfriend. Cole forms his Winchester again. I suppose he thinks that’s a menacing move, but I have another thought entirely. More Crown Sentient for us, yum yum. Reaching forward, I summon those particles to me as well. The rifle instantly dissolves into dark specks that fly across the saloon and soak directly into my body. Fresh waves of energy flow though my nervous system. The ice cream headache returns for a few seconds, but I can ignore it better this time. The emperor scowls at Thorne. “I don’t need sentient to fight you.” Cole lunges for his son. This time, when the emperor attacks his child, Thorne does more than just block the blows. He hits back. One strike. Two. Three. With Thorne’s last punch, Cole flies across the room. The emperor lands against a back panel with an ear-splitting thunk. It occurs to me that Cole takes the same position Thorne did a few minutes ago—sitting against the wall with the panel behind him all busted up. The emperor looks unconscious, but you never know. I send out my own sentient to tie him up, just to be sure. For a long second, I can only stare at the bound-up emperor. “Did we really do it?” “Looks like,” says Thorne. “I’ve never seen him knocked out before.” Some small part of me says this is too easy. But I decide to ignore that part, mostly because Thorne is racing toward me at a run. Soon our bodies press together in the mother of all hugs. Thorne’s hand slides up the side of my torso and neck, ending with a firm grip on my chin. I know what’s coming next, and I love this idea. Sometimes, it’s good to be me.