Rogue Invasion

2. Wars and Rumors

2 Wars and Rumors

The next morning, Brant entered the school an hour earlier than his normal time. Betty,the receptionist who’d worked at IAS forever, wasn’t sitting behind her desk in the front foyer yet. Normally they arrived at the same time. Brant would put his hand on the sliding door to keep it open for her. Then they would exchange stories about the kids.

But this morning the massive foyer echoed no voices, only the clip of Brant’s boots. He marched down the empty main hallway and could almost hear the deep breathing of the students sleeping in their dorms on floors above him. His hearing wasn’t that sensitive, of course, and yet the sound was there all the same. Like the building itself breathed and beat to the rhythm of its children.

KaeHan stuck his head out of the fifth meditation room and waved his hand for Brant to enter and quickly. Brant ducked inside, and KaeHan closed the door behind him. Brant blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

A grapefruit-sized ball radiated light on a pillow in the middle of the floor, projecting lacy constellations into the air. Brant’s lesson plans were toddler scribbles in comparison. KaeHan settled, cross-legged, onto one of the pillows, and on the other side of the shining galaxy of equations sat another figure.

“Amalie?” Brant stepped backward.

The projected calculations sprinkled light onto her curls, but her eyes stared at the floor, covered by her long eyelashes.

“I took the liberty of getting you coffee,” KaeHan said as if he didn’t sense the obvious tension in the room. “You like it black?”

“Huh?” Brant asked. “Yes?”

What had KaeHan just said? Oh, coffee. Yes, black was good this morning. Exactly how Brant would need it.

“I’m afraid that I messed up Amalie’s coffee,” KaeHan said. “She has very specific tastes.”

“With honey, cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon,” Brant said. Amalie’s head snapped up and met his gaze. “Unless your tastes have changed in the last five months.”

“No,” Amalie said, looking back down at the floor. “My tastes are very much the same.”

“Really.” Brant reached out for the coffee cup KaeHan held, assuming it was his coffee.

“I’ll give it to you after you take a seat,” KaeHan said and motioned to a pillow.

Weird, but Brant had learned long ago not to question KaeHan’s unusual methods.

“So what’s going on?” Brant asked.

He passed through the floating calculations and stood in front of the pillow next to Amalie.

“Someone is planning an attack on IAS.”

Brant missed the pillow.

One minute Brant was standing tall and perfectly dignified. The next he was sprawled on the floor staring at the ceiling. The sharp pain to his tailbone said ever so clearly, You missed the pillow, moron!

“Let me.” KaeHan extended his hand to help Brant up.

Brant accepted, and KaeHan pulled him to standing. Brant instinctively checked KaeHan’s footing and nodded. It took a solid stance for a shorter man to lift a taller one. Brant then winced. Had he really just checked Councilor KaeHan’s footwork?

“Once a teacher, always a teacher,” KaeHan said with a smile and finally handed Brant his coffee.

Brant crouched, felt for the pillow with his other hand, and sat squarely on it, holding his coffee level the whole time.

“Did you know I was going to fall?”

“Of course,” KaeHan said. “Why else would I have held your drink?”

Amalie snickered, then tried to cover it up with a sip of coffee. KaeHan sighed.

“My dear Amalie, if you give away that I cannot predict the future, the students of IAS might stop looking at me with that expression of awe and oh-s**t-he-knows-what-I’m-up-to. Many a student has avoided doing something stupid just because I glanced at them.”

Brant laughed. “So you didn’t know I was going to fall?”

“I knew there was a chance, and I was in a hurry,” KaeHan said. “I held the coffee just in case. That’s all. No magic.”

“But IAS is going to be…?” Brant couldn’t finish the question.

“Attacked, yes.” KaeHan sat back down on the pillow with a grunt. “The adapted teens that you fought at the end of that mission with Knox—”

“So they were adapted?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know we were going to be attacked?” Did you know Sann was going to die?

KaeHan’s face fell. Brant spoke only the first question, but KaeHan understood both.

“I made a mistake with that mission.”

KaeHan pursed his eyebrows at a knot of numbers in the air before him. He tapped a coefficient and dragged it out. Was it Brant’s imagination, or did the equations smooth out after that? Like removing a boulder from the middle of rapids. Instead of splashing around chaotically, the equations flowed down and branched outward in new directions.

“I assumed it was a simple mission,” KaeHan said, “and didn’t run any preliminary predictions for it. Amalie discovered the Shadow’s presence before I did.”

“The Shadow?” Brant asked.

Amalie stopped drinking her coffee, held it in her lap, and stared at it. KaeHan tapped his index finger to lines of equations that glowed blood red at his touch.

“The Shadow has been running a school of adapted children for over a decade now,” KaeHan said.

A decade?

Brant swallowed way too much coffee and had to gasp for air. KaeHan didn’t stop but kept talking, more to himself now than to Brant or Amalie.

“I don’t know how long he’s been operating, though I suspect his money comes from the shipping industry, along with his access to the slave labor.”

“Shipping? Like The Caravan,” Brant said, and his fingers tensed around the mug.

That massive space shipping company had been buying out or eliminating all its competition—except the Nichev Company. Brant had never met this mysterious Nicolai Nichev, but he’d heard that Knox did a lot of business for the company. If Knox could afford it, he shipped only for companies that used fair trade in their manufacturing lines. Nichev Company comprised most of his cargo now.

“Why would this Shadow need access to The Caravan’s slave labor?”

“Technically, it’s not The Caravan’s slave labor,” KaeHan said and changed another number. “And since I’m including you in this discussion, you need to know the precise truth.”

“I know,” Brant said. “Slavery is illegal in the countries that supply The Caravan, but some suppliers still use slaves. The Caravan buys from those suppliers and doesn’t ask questions. Then ships the goods to paying countries on other planets.”

“Knox taught you well on that last mission.”

“And Sann.”

Brant barely whispered. KaeHan’s face looked old and his shoulders weighed down.

“But The Caravan does know about the slave labor camps and warehouses,” KaeHan said. “When the Shadow needs children with adaptations, he—or she—gets access to hundreds of thousands of slaves. The ones that test positive for the adaptation are so grateful that the Shadow rescued them…”

“They’d do anything for him,” Brant finished.

“Even die for him or her.”

Brant’s hands started to sweat holding his hot coffee. “But why would he want to attack our school? Competition?”

“We’re in his way,” KaeHan said, leaning back from his equations and taking in the feel of the galaxy of equations.

“In his way? Of what?” Brant asked.

“When the Shadow sends out his students to assassinate or plant seeds for a riot, IAS is there to undo his work. I make sure of it.” KaeHan looked at Amalie. “We make sure of it.”

“What’s this Shadow trying to do?” Brant asked, squinting at the equations. “Who’s he trying to kill? What’s his end goal?”

“He wants to tear down all of intergalactic trade,” KaeHan said, “the space shipping business and balance of power. All of it.”

“Without our current shipping structure, the Six Planets would die,” Brant said, remembering his history lessons. “None of the colonized planets are terraformed enough to survive on their own yet. We still need each other.”

“That’s what you were taught,” KaeHan said, “but this Shadow disagrees. He thinks the planets are using their dependency as an excuse to continue in the disgusting practice of slavery.” He sighed. “And he’s not entirely wrong.”

“So his solution is to just stop all spaceship trading? Can he even do that?”

KaeHan nodded. “He’s set his hooks in the right businesses. We are now the main force that stands in his way.”

“But taking down the entire system? That seems a bit overkill.”

KaeHan shrugged. “He considers slavery that abhorrent. Don’t we, as well?”

“Well, yes, but…” Brant suddenly didn’t feel so comfortable on the pillow anymore. He shifted his weight and took a sip of coffee. “Stopping all trade would kill a lot of people, even if the Six Planets all found a new stable way to terraform.”

“I think the Shadow feels that we deserve that fate.” KaeHan’s shoulders sagged. “Amalie, would you take it from here, please?”

Amalie nodded curtly and sat up straight. “The attack on the school isn’t the only big problem coming.”

“Are you kidding me?” Brant said. “What could be bigger than that?”

“A robot army is being built,” Amalie said. “And it is programmed to murder humans.”

Brant carefully placed his coffee cup on the floor. He pulled his hands back into his lap and waited for the words she’d just uttered to change. Surely Brant had heard wrong.

“I need you to repeat that one more time,” Brant said.

“I don’t want to,” she said, then sighed. “A robot army is being built that is programmed to murder.” Amalie took her time, pronouncing each word.

They hadn’t changed. Brant had heard right. Boy, he wished he hadn’t.

“And they’re coming to IAS?” he asked, panic rising up his throat.

“Oh no!” Amalie said. “No, not us, thank goodness. No, they were built for the People’s Rebellion of Umbundu, to fight their neighboring tribes. The robots are programmed to murder only people with the DNA of the wrong tribes. We think it’s funded by a group of powerful nations from Yichen that wanted the minerals in their country…”

She paused and blinked at Brant’s expression, which he guessed was bordering on blank. “You know I won’t go into the politics. They’re messy.”

“OK, I’m confused. What does that have to do with the attack on IAS?” Brant was going to need more coffee.

“When the AI War begins—and that is what it will be called,” KaeHan said, speaking up again, “it will draw our soldiers away from the school.”

“Leaving IAS unprotected,” Amalie said.

Both Amalie and KaeHan looked at Brant, leaving him to finish the thought. He didn’t want to finish it. He tried to drink the coffee, but it had gone lukewarm. Finally he put the cup down and broke the silence.

“So when the soldiers are sent away on this war, the Shadow attacks.”

“Yes,” KaeHan and Amalie said together.

“And that will be… when?”

“A few months from now,” KaeHan said. “Maybe more, maybe less.”

“That’s not very exact,” Brant said, and Amalie actually glared at him. Before Brant could apologize, KaeHan jumped in.

“Predicting what will happen is difficult, but when it will happen?” He tapped an event, dragging it further from the center, watching as the cascade of equations changed paths and broke in different locations. “That’s a quantum leap harder. There’s a gut feel to it.”

“So let’s warn Jefferson,” Brant said, getting ready to stand, “prepare our troops.”

“Wait.” Amalie reached out and touched his elbow with her fingertips.

That skin contact froze Brant in place. Her fingers were cold. He could warm them, rub them between his hands, blow gentle breath on them.

But wait. KaeHan was still in the room, watching. For a split second,that felt much longer, Brant had forgotten about KaeHan. Brant’s cheeks burned, and he sat back down, thankful the dark room hid his blush.

“Jefferson knows about the coming AI War,” KaeHan said. “And he’s preparing for it. But we mustn’t mention the attack on IAS. To anyone.”

“Why?” Brant asked.

KaeHan spun his tea cup in his hands an inch at a time. Turn, turn, turn. Like one of those old-fashioned clock gears ticking around in a circle. But he didn’t answer.

Brant downed the rest of his cold, bitter coffee in one swallow and tossed it across the room into the trash. A flash of blue vaporized the remaining liquid and sterilized the cup. A robot would come by later and return the clean mug back to the cafeteria. A robot that was programmed to never, ever, ever hurt a human.

“How much can I tell you?” KaeHan whispered to himself. His eyes flicked at the equations. “It has to do with IAS politics. Old politics.”

“I hate politics,” Brant said.

And this private meeting with its secrets was exactly why. The best thing for the school would be for everyone to know and be on the same page. But no. And why couldn’t everyone know? Politics.

“I hope you can trust me,” KaeHan said. “I will always trust your heart. Always. But if it’s OK with you, I’d prefer the complex information be left in my and Amalie’s hands. For now.”

“Agreed,” Brant said. The equations had begun to make his temples throb. “So Jefferson knows about the AI War?”

Amalie and KaeHan both nodded.

“But he doesn’t know about the rogue school of adapted children.”

Amalie and KaeHan both shook their heads.

“But we have to prepare for an attack on the school?”

Again Amalie and KaeHan nodded.

“And you’re telling me, so I can help.”

“Yes,” KaeHan said, “and you should know I want you to bring Knox in on this, too. He can listen to the rumors in the shipping industry.”

“So I can tell Knox everything?” Brant asked, sitting up.

“I hoped you would,” KaeHan said.

“Absolutely.”

“Now that that’s all taken care of,” KaeHan stood and smoothed his uniform, “I have other work to do.”

KaeHan touched the crystal, and the glowing constellations swirled down into it like a whirlwind. “So I’ll be going. Lights.”

Brant blinked and shook his head at the bright room and walls.

“Have a good day, both of you.” KaeHan walked to the door. “And Brant…”

“Sir?”

“Class starts in an hour.”

With that, KaeHan left. And the awkward silence descended.

Brant flicked his eyes at her. She didn’t look back at him but instead took a slow sip of her coffee, then crinkled her freckled nose. The coffee had gone cold. Brant took the moment of distraction and crawled to her on his hands and knees.

Amalie set the mug down on the plastiform floor. Her eyes flicked back and forth as if she was in REM sleep. KaeHan and Amalie both did that when working on a prediction. Except Amalie kept twitching and grimacing as if she’d tasted something sour. Then she lowered her lids, and her eyes began twitching again. Brant inched closer, right as she twitched and grimaced a fourth time.

“Amalie.” Brant’s nose was only inches from her face.

“What?” Amalie snapped her eyes up and caught her breath. “Oh.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Both held their breath. Brant could count the freckles on her nose and cheeks. Seventeen. That hadn’t changed. Her lips parted, and Brant rocked an inch forward, an inch back. What did she want?

You’re only going to hurt her, Ed’s voice hissed in his head. My anger still lives in you.

Brant twitched his head as if an annoying bug had buzzed in his ear. Amalie hunched her shoulders and shuffled her legs. She was uncomfortable. Brant withdrew and tried to lounge comfortably. Tried to play it off. But his fists and jaw had tightened.

“I’m sorry,” Amalie whispered as she pulled her knees up and held them close.

“No need to apologize.”

Brant tried to keep his voice casual, but crap, if it didn’t crack. Why couldn’t he be smooth like DeVaun? Brant felt Amalie’s gaze on him, and his face and neck warmed. The fingers of his left hand grazed back and forth along the ribbed plexiform floor. He could feel it with a heightened sensitivity, every bump and crevice.

“So why were you avoiding me?” he asked.

“I can’t calculate my predictions cleanly when… when… when I’m good friends with the people in the predictions. I haven’t been able to calculate anything for KaeHan lately.”

Good friends?

“So you needed some time without distractions,” he said.

“Right.”

Brant tilted his head to look her way. Their gazes met. The green in her shirt brought out the green in her hazel eyes. Were her pupils slightly dilated? Brant slowed his breathing in a wasted attempt to slow his heart rate. No good. The pill released some meds into his system.

“And now?” Brant asked, his voice thick in his throat.

“I’m still trying to run predictions for KaeHan to prepare for the AI War and the school attack. If I can’t figure out my calculations,” Amalie choked, “children at this school could be killed. Lots of them.”

My kids!

Brant sat up. He’d been so distracted with Amalie that the attack on his school had somehow slipped his mind.

I have to fight to protect what’s mine!

Brant couldn’t tell if that voice was Ed’s or his own, but he didn’t care. He had transformed back into Instructor Mallet, a man focused primarily on the safety of his kids.

“Then,” Brant swallowed—crap, this was hard—“we should stay away from each other until the battle’s over.”

Amalie nodded and relaxed her arms’ tight grip around her knees. Brant left the room quietly only to bump into Benjamin. The councilor snapped his digiscroll closed.

“Hi,” Brant said.

“Hi,” Benjamin said and took off down the hall in the other direction.

Brant got a weird vibe, like the one when he turned the corner and a student hid their vape pipe behind their back. Or the teen couple’s uniforms were crumpled in incriminating ways. He wasn’t KaeHan, but Brant still knew when a student was up to something.

But then, this was Benjamin. He’d probably found a bug in the computer system and was busy trying to patch it.

Brant shrugged. He had classes to plan.