EINAR
MAR A VISTA—CALIFORNIA
HIS ATTACHÉ IN HAND, EINAR WALKED SLOWLY down the dark road towards the sounds of chaos. Shouting, the roar of motorcycle engines, the electronic buzzing of the Inhibitor-2a’s. Headlights from dozens of motorcycles flashed, creating a strobe-light effect in the otherwise peaceful night. Einar scratched his cheek thoughtfully.
Perhaps he should have waited for a more opportune moment to make his move.
The Academy Garde were trapped. They hunkered down around the van they’d been driving, fending off an assault from the first wave of Harvesters. Meanwhile, a dozen bikers rode in a circle around the area, fencing them in.
If he’d had the Blackstone Group out here instead of these half-witted trailer trash, this battle would already be over.
Reverend Jimbo had almost fifty men at his disposal. Einar had been worried about how their numbers had been growing.
Suddenly, they didn’t seem like enough.
“I thought you said there were only six of them!” Reverend Jimbo yelled in his ear. The old man walked next to Einar, nervous but excited, brandishing a chrome-plated six-shooter. Silas stood on his other side, watching the fight with wide eyes.
Only. Einar sniffed. As if six Garde, even poorly trained ones, could ever be taken lightly. Oh well. It wouldn’t be long now. One way or another, his mission to America was at an end. After tonight, he could wash his hands of the Harvesters and their ignorance.
“There are only six of them,” Einar replied to the reverend.
“Then why do I see—?” The reverend squinted into the distance, trying to count. “A whole goddamn bunch?”
“One of them duplicates,” Einar said.
“He does what?”
“He produces clones of himself.”
“That’s the unholiest thing I’ve heard yet.”
Einar suppressed a sigh. He had read the file on Caleb Crane and found his Legacy to be an enviable one. According to his dossier, Caleb deferred to authority and followed instructions readily. Strange, then, to find him out here, apparently engaged in an attempt to escape from the Academy. Einar did recall some mention of instability with the boy. Possible multiple personality disorder. That would make sense, considering his Legacy.
“If your men can isolate the real duplicator and render him unconscious, the clones will disappear,” Einar said.
“They’ll do more than render that abomination unconscious,” the reverend replied. He cocked his pistol.
Einar turned to glare at the reverend.
“I told you. No lethal weapons until I have what I’m after.”
“Right, right. Your precious field test,” Reverend Jimbo said with a snort. “Son, I’m grateful for the support and all, but I can’t promise my boys won’t get tired of batting these devils around with your little toys.”
Einar took a step close to the reverend, focused his power and coaxed a feeling of fear out of the older man. Intimidation. If he pressed any harder, he could have the reverend on the ground praying to him. But there wasn’t time for that.
With a shaky hand, Reverend Jimbo eased down the hammer on his pistol.
“I’ll—I’ll make sure my men don’t fly off the handle,” the reverend said meekly. He waved Silas and one of the other Harvesters towards the battle. “Sorry,” he muttered to Einar, clearly unsure why he was apologizing.
“Mm,” Einar replied noncommittally. He turned to watch a burly biker sneak up on a Caleb and fire an Inhibitor-2a leash at him.
The Inhibitor version 2a. One of Sydal Corp’s finest creations. It then fired a collar made of a proprietary mercury-based alloy that snapped into place around the target’s neck and self-welded shut. If knocked off course—say, by telekinesis—the weapon’s sensors automatically recalibrated for the target’s throat by homing in on the heat of the carotid artery. Once attached, the collar remained connected to the crossbow by high-strength tensile wire, delivering shocks on command to the target. The electric bursts were enough to disrupt any Legacies.
Einar would know; he had been on the receiving end many times during the weapon’s testing. He remembered bitterly how an early version had nearly decapitated him.
The Inhibitor fired by the biker snapped around Caleb’s neck. He watched Caleb convulse from the shock. Then, the collar dropped uselessly to the ground; Caleb had disappeared. A clone, then. Not the real deal.
As the biker reeled his inhibitor back in, he was struck in the chest by a vicious punch to the sternum. The biker flew backwards, slammed into the van the Garde had been driving and lay still.
That was Kopano Okeke who threw the haymaker. Einar’s intelligence on him was far from complete. The exact nature of the Nigerian’s Legacies was unknown to the Academy, and thus unknown to Einar’s employer. Einar didn’t need reports to tell him that Kopano’s strength was enhanced. He could see that for himself.
That would be useful.
Two more Harvesters armed with Sydal Corp tranquilizer guns fired at Kopano. The darts bounced harmlessly off him. A moment later, a glowing orb landed at the feet of the two Harvesters. They barely had a chance to register the projectile before it exploded, throwing the two bikers to the side of the road.
Ran Takeda. And if she was here, then it was likely Nigel Barnaby was as well. Skilled combatants, survivors of the massacre at Patience Creek. Einar might not have initiated this operation had he known they were present. The pair crouched for cover at the back of the van, using the doors for a shield. As Einar watched, Ran picked up a handful of gravel and charged it with her Legacy. She chucked the stones at another pack of Harvesters, the resulting concussive blast knocking them off their motorcycles. Word had reached the Foundation that Ran had sworn off using her Legacies. Apparently, she had chosen tonight to make an exception.
“My men are getting destroyed out there!” Reverend Jimbo screamed.
“Yes. They are very poorly trained,” Einar replied as he continued to scan the battlefield.
There. Near the driver side door of the van, Einar could see a trio of three Calebs standing shoulder to shoulder. A human wall. They were protecting someone. Through their legs, Einar could see a body in the road, a second person crouching over it. An injured person and a healer.
“I see you, Taylor,” Einar said to himself. He waited a moment for a Harvester on a motorcycle to pass, then darted through their snarling chopper perimeter and headed towards the battle.
“Where are you going?” Reverend Jimbo shouted.
“To finish this.”
Time was of the essence. Already, the frustrated and frightened Harvesters were abandoning the nonlethal weapons he’d provided them with and were turning to more conventional, and deadlier, methods of assault. Although any injuries would surely be blamed on the Harvesters, a bunch of dead Garde would not be a welcome development. This mission would already bring too much attention.
A group of Harvesters armed with tire irons and baseball bats had descended upon Kopano. He blocked each of their attacks with a forearm or a shoulder or, in one case, his face. None of the blows hurt him. Einar watched as, one by one, Kopano knocked the Harvesters out with powerful uppercuts.
“Leave us alone!” the young man shouted, a note of fear in his voice despite his near invulnerability. “Leave us—!”
Kopano hesitated. He had spotted Einar walking towards him. A strange sight—a young man in a suit and tie, holding a briefcase, walking calmly through the fray.
Meanwhile, a Harvester advanced on Kopano from behind. He carried an old-fashioned sawed-off shotgun. Einar wondered if that would be enough to break Kopano’s thick skin.
All of the Garde were occupied with other Harvesters. Einar sighed. He reached into his attaché, pulled out his blaster and fired a concentrated burst of energy. Kopano ducked as the red-tinged beam sizzled by his head and right into the Harvester’s face.
Einar’s weapon was far from nonlethal; the Harvester fell dead, his face a charred mess. The blaster was Mogadorian in origin, a little collector’s item from the invasion. Einar relished any chance he got to use it.
“Who are—?” Kopano started to ask, his fists up.
“I’m your only friend,” Einar said, getting closer. He reached out to Kopano with his Legacy and filled the boy with feelings of affection and trust.
“Right!” Kopano said. “Yes! Good to see you!”
“All these people want to hurt us. All of them,” Einar said. “Hurt them before they can hurt us.”
Anger. Einar made it flow through Kopano. It was a simple chemical reaction—lower the serotonin, pump up the adrenaline. Especially easy with males, actually. Kopano’s eyes widened, his lips curled into a feral snarl, his fists clenched impossibly tight.
With a roar, Kopano whipped around and clotheslined the nearest Harvester. While that man gasped for breath in the dirt, Kopano lunged at a Caleb and punched the clone so hard that its head spun 180 degrees before it disappeared.
“Good boy,” Einar said.
Emotional manipulation. It wasn’t the flashiest Legacy, but it had its uses.
Kopano plowed through another pair of clones, then pummeled a fleeing Harvester. Everyone in the battle—Garde and Harvester—was now paying all their attention to the Nigerian.
Well, not everyone.
Einar took a moment too long admiring his handiwork. Something thudded at his feet. A glowing rock.
“Shit,” he said.
He felt a yank on the back of his jacket and let his body go limp. Just as Ran’s bomb exploded at his feet, Einar flew backwards on a telekinetic tether. He landed in the road, scraping his elbows. He’d been pulled backwards by Rabiya, who was hiding behind the tire of the broken-down station wagon they’d used as a roadblock. An unconscious Harvester was slumped next to her.
Einar cringed, fingering a tear in his jacket.
“I’m all dirty,” he complained.
“Yes. But you aren’t blown to pieces, so there’s that,” Rabiya scolded.
The two of them flinched as a motorcycle flew overhead, the bike obviously propelled by telekinesis and glowing with Ran’s kinetic energy. It fell right in the midst of the Harvesters riding in circles around the fight and exploded, knocking a few of them off their bikes and driving others to retreat.
“This is going poorly,” Rabiya observed. “We should have waited. It would’ve been easier to take her with the Peacekeepers than with these other Garde.”
“Hindsight,” Einar replied with a dismissive wave. “Besides, we don’t know if she was planning to return to the Academy. They could have been running away.”
Einar peeked out from behind the car. By the van, Kopano’s berserk rampage was slowing down a bit. Normally, it took a few minutes for Einar’s control to wear off, but the attack from Ran must have shaken his Legacy. He concentrated on Kopano and amped up his adrenaline, his rage, then smiled when the Nigerian smashed the heads of two Harvesters together with renewed ferocity.
“Kopano! Hey! What are you doing?”
That must be Caleb. The real Caleb. He stood in front of the larger boy, trying to calm him down. He couldn’t have known what Einar had done to Kopano’s mind, how it would take time for him to come down from the manipulations.
Kopano grabbed Caleb by the front of his shirt and flung him back-first into the windshield of the van. The glass crunched and spiderwebbed as Caleb bounced off it, tumbled over the hood and landed on the back of his head in the road. A moment later, the clones crowding the battlefield blinked out of existence.
“We make our move now,” Einar told Rabiya. “Get our exit ready.”
“Hurry, please,” Rabiya said. She extended her hands. A blue glow started to emanate from her palms.
Einar slipped out from behind the car, blaster pointed ahead of him. With the clones gone, he could see Taylor leaning over one of her friends. Who was that? He couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter. She was unconscious or dead. Probably dead, based on the dark red scars that covered her face and neck. One of the damned Harvesters must have burned her up. Taylor was focused on pouring healing energy into her, but from Einar’s perspective the effort seemed wasted.
As Einar scuttled towards Taylor, Nigel strode into the road and started to scream.
The decibel level was like nothing Einar had ever experienced. He doubled over and vomited, his head spinning. It felt like his eyes would bulge out of his head. The Harvesters who had remained standing during Kopano’s assault now fell over, writhing and clutching their ears.
So did Kopano. In fact, he took the brunt of Nigel’s scream. The attack seemed designed to bring him down.
Hand shaking, Einar managed to lift his blaster just high enough to shoot Nigel in the leg. The searing pain surprised him and cut off his scream. Nigel fell to his knees, but immediately started to get back up. Einar grabbed a rock with his telekinesis and flung it at Nigel’s head. The blow wasn’t enough to kill him, but it made certain that he wouldn’t cause any more sonic disruptions for at least a few minutes.
Einar felt a tugging sensation across his knuckles. A second later, his blaster was ripped out of his hand. He glanced to his right and saw Ran Takeda. Unlike the Harvesters, she was still on her feet. Einar glanced around for Rabiya but didn’t see her. She must have gone down when Nigel screamed. Einar struggled to his knees and watched as Ran stalked towards him.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A bullet grazed Ran’s shoulder. She dove for cover behind the van as Reverend Jimbo stepped onto the scene, his six-shooter blazing. He came with a small contingent of Harvesters. They seemed more concerned with gathering their injured than with pressing the fight against the Garde.
Thanks to the reverend’s distraction, Einar was able to scramble to his feet. The way to Taylor was clear. She’d been affected by the scream, too, and was wiping her eyes, trying to gather herself so she could go back to unsuccessfully healing her dead friend.
Einar pulled a tranquilizer gun from his attaché and shot Taylor in the neck. She slumped over.
“Finally,” Einar muttered.
Einar raised a hand, hoisting Taylor up with his telekinesis. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ran poke her head out from behind the van. He fired a dart in her direction, unsure whether it found its mark.
“Rabiya! Are you ready?” Einar yelled as he turned. He couldn’t be sure she heard him. The ringing in his own ears was thunderous.
The girl was back on her feet at least. Her headscarves were a mess, blood dampening one side of them. She must have fallen and hit her head on the station wagon’s bumper.
Rabiya extended her hands and focused. A stream of cobalt-blue energy flowed from her palms and struck the pavement. Slowly, the energy coalesced into a craggy pyramid of stone.
Loralite. Rabiya could produce the stuff at will. Now, all they had to do was envision the stone tucked away in Einar’s backyard, touch the Loralite and they’d be out of this mess.
“Deceivers!” Reverend Jimbo shouted. Einar could hear his booming voice even through the intense ringing. “We have been infiltrated by the abominations!”
The reverend had seen Rabiya using her Legacy. He’d likely also surmised that Einar was the one floating Taylor through the air.
The reverend pointed his revolver at Einar. Quickly, Einar yanked Taylor to him so that he was carrying the girl over her shoulder.
The reverend squeezed off a shot. Einar brushed it aside with his telekinesis.
He started to fire again.
Einar gripped the man’s arm with his telekinesis and twisted. The arm snapped at the elbow. Jimbo screamed. He still managed to pull the trigger.
But the gun was aimed under his own chin.
The leader of the Harvesters collapsed, his head blown apart. His men recoiled in terror.
Einar couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt at that.
He reached the stone just as Rabiya finished creating it. “Can we please get out of here?” she asked. She held out her hand to Einar. “Your place, right?”
The detached wheel of a motorcycle flung with telekinetic force struck Rabiya in the stomach. She doubled over and fell backwards. Einar glanced over his shoulder, saw Ran charging an object, saw Caleb stirring on the roadside, saw Nigel struggling back to his feet.
He looked down at Rabiya, catching her breath, now too far away from the stone. He started to reach out with his telekinesis.
A glowing rock floated in his direction.
One of the last Harvesters dove on top of Rabiya. He grabbed her and smashed her face into the pavement.
It was all happening too fast.
“I am sorry,” Einar said to Rabiya, although he was sure she couldn’t hear him. He touched the Loralite stone and, with Taylor, teleported himself to safety.