Chapter 2
"Hey, Trevor, wait up!"
I turned and slowed down to let my sister Angela catch up to me. "Come on, Pokey Joe!" I told her with a grin. "I don't want to be late for practice."
"We're not going to be late! And besides, Grandmaster Park won't care if we are. He won't even show up until later."
"Well, I'll care. It's been a long time since I've been to the studio." She had caught up to me by now. I turned and began walking alongside of her. "And if you're a good girl," I went on, "I'll even let you run the practice."
She rolled her eyes at me. "Trevor, I've been running practices for years. The thrill has kind of worn off by now. And besides, you might not get a say in it. Master Wilson has been doing the Monday night practices for the past couple of weeks. He'll probably be there tonight."
I nodded. That would actually be a good thing, I thought.
I mean, it's pretty neat to walk into Grandmaster Park's Tae Kwon Do studio and be the highest-ranking belt there. Everyone has to stop what they're doing, and whoever the current leader is comes over to welcome you and shake your hand. Master Wilson outranked me, though; he was a fifth Dan, whereas I was only a fourth. If he were there, then there would be no special greeting, and I'd actually have to stop at the doorway and ask his permission to enter the studio.
So why wouldn't that bother me? Simple. I didn't want the responsibility of leading the practice, which is why I was more than willing to let Angie do it. No, I'm not lazy; I just had been away from regular Tae Kwon Do training for the past three years, ever since I became a Prime. I go to every session I can when I'm home, but even so, I always worry that I might be getting a bit rusty. Not at the fighting, naturally, because I do that all the time, but at leading a practice. The people I deal with on a regular basis are all expert fighters, not the yellow or green belts that I'd be seeing today. So no, it wouldn't bother me one bit to be second- or even third-in-command tonight.
I was still eager to get there, though. When I had gotten home, my dad told me that Grandmaster Park wanted to talk with me. I figured that could mean only one thing -- that he thought I was ready to take my fifth Dan test.
That would be plenty cool. If I passed (and I had little doubt that I would) then I wouldn't be Mister Chiao at the studio any more, I would be Master Chiao. I'd get to wear whatever uniform I liked, even all black if I wanted, and when I entered, everyone would have to turn to face me instead of simply facing front. Lots of neat little perks like that.
So I was pretty eager get to practice, even though I knew Grandmaster Park wouldn't be there for a while. He usually lets the lower-ranked belts lead the first part of practice, the routine part, and generally shows up for the second half.
I could see the studio up ahead now. The lights were on, which meant that one of the black belts with a key had gotten there ahead of us. I speeded up, ignoring Angie's protests.
All of a sudden I heard a weird noise, sort of like a whooshing sound. Now, my parents live in Ohio, where the weather can change every five minutes if it feels like it, so having a wind spring up suddenly wouldn't be unusual, except this sound was like no wind I had ever heard. I turned, and behind me I saw a creature that was eight feet tall at least, slender to the point of emaciation, and armored all over, from head to foot. Surrounding it was a crowd of things that only vaguely resembled people, like someone's bad clay sculpture of a human form. Enclave calls them drones, but I knew them as Zoinks.
Angie turned to look at me. "Trevor, what are those things?"
I stepped forward so that I was between her and the Zoinks. "Get out of here, Angie," I said, assuming a riding-horse stance. I jerked my head in the direction of the studio. "Run on inside; you'll probably be safe in there. Safer, anyway."
Her eyes suddenly grew wide. "I know what they are! They're those things the Primes fight . . . what are they called . . .?"
"Angie, get out of here!" I said grimly. "I mean it!"
"No way, big brother!" She assumed a back stance and grinned at me. "If you're going to stay here and fight them, then so am I! This is going to be fun!" My sister has a weird idea of fun.
"I'm not going to fight them just for the fun of it," I told her. "I'm just going to cover your butt. As soon as I see you're safe inside the studio, I'm going to turn tail and run myself. Now scoot!"
Fortunately for me, Angie never got the chance to "scoot." The Zoinks shambled around to cut off our retreat. The tall figure raised a skeletal hand and pointed straight at me. "Treeeeevor," it said in a voice that belonged in some spooky ghost story. "Treeeeevor, I have cooooome for yoooooou!"
Plenty creepy, let me tell you! I clenched my fists and stood my ground, though. I would have liked to launch a full-scale attack on this thing, just to stop it from pointing at me in the weird way, but I didn't. I guess the don't-attack-unless-Wizzit-says-it's-okay response had been drummed into me too well. This guy hadn't proved he was hostile yet; so far, his only real fault was that he gave me the willies.
Angela, bless her heart, was less spooked by this thing than I was. That's my baby sister, afraid of nothing. "His name isn't Trevor, you stupid monster!" she shouted. "It's Messerschmidt. Jehoshaphat Aloysius Messerschmidt. You've got the wrong guy!"
You know, I hate to say that something as stupid as that worked, but it did. Mr. Creepy-pants drew back his long, bony arm, stared at us for a second, and then vanished, taking the Zoinks with him. Puzzled, I turned to Angela. "That was . . . random."
"Yeah, tell me about it!" She blew a stray lock of hair away from her face. "Why would a monster like that come after you, anyway? He even knew your name."
"No idea," I said with a shrug. That was a lie. Actually, I had a sinking feeling that I knew the answer: somehow, Enclave had discovered my secret identity. But now was not the time to deal with it. "Come on," I said. "We'd better get inside."
"Sure thing," she agreed, adding, "You're welcome, by the way."
I followed Angela to the studio, hoping she wouldn't start asking me all kinds of uncomfortable questions about the monster. She didn't, which surprised me. She has always been the inquisitive type. Whenever I come home on break, she always peppers me with questions about the Tae Kwon Do demonstration team I'm supposedly on. She really keeps me on my toes; I always have to bone up on the latest doings in the international TKD community before I visit.
That's my cover story, by the way. I'm not supposed to tell people that I'm a Prime. I mean, that's just common sense, isn't it? There are plenty of governments that would love to get their hands on the alien tech that Wizzit provides us with. Plenty of individuals, too, I guess.
So I tell people instead that I travel around the world with a team attending Tae Kwon Do competitions. The parents don't like it -- they think I should be in college instead of bumming around the world (and they would be right, if it were all true) -- but as long as I check in regularly and seem healthy and happy when I visit, they don't say much. Sure, I'd like to tell them what I really do. Everyone wants their folks to be proud of them, but hey, what can you do?
In fact, what to tell your family is a tricky business for most of us Primes. Well, okay, not for Toby or Mike. They're both older, in their mid-twenties, and never kept in close touch with their respective families, anyway. Knowing what I know about Mike's past, his family is probably thrilled that he's (supposedly) a roadie with a rock band and not bleeding his guts out in a gutter somewhere.
And I suppose that Shelley's kind of a special case. Her dad is Prime Commander, and she's been doing this stuff since she was thirteen (Yeah, I know. Youngest Prime ever!) so of course her mom knows, too. Their family even invites the lot of us out to their ranch in Montana for barbecues and such during the summer. I've met her sister Francesca, who is Angie's age. Nice kid. Don't know whether she has a clue about us, though.
As
for the rest of us, I think Nicolai and Padma have it the best. As our main tech guy, Nicolai does a lot of work with math, in an area he calls number theory. He's even published a few papers and gives occasional guest lectures, so it's not hard for him to convince people that he's doing research for some hush-hush scientific organization. Padma's story is similar, that she's doing math research before she goes to university, and her family buys it so far.
And then there's poor Trina. I get the impression that her parents strongly disapprove of her "chosen lifestyle". She's supposedly scratching out a living as an artist and model in some Russian city whose name I can't spell, and I guess her parents are worried sick because they're convinced that she's on drugs or starving to death and sleeping around with whoever's willing to give her bed and board. I feel bad for her, especially around the holidays; from what I hear, Christmases at the Balakleets household tend to be a bit strained.
Regardless, as Angie and I approached the studio, I could look through the windows and see the black belt who seemed to be running things. It was a skinny kid with glasses, about twelve -- Jason, I think I remembered his name was. I didn't know him all that well -- he had joined after I had entered the Primes -- but he seemed like a nice enough kid. And he was a full-fledged black belt, too. Grandmaster Park doesn't believe in "junior" black belts. He's old school; as far as he is concerned, if you're a black belt, then you're a black belt, and that's that.
Angela opened the door and stood there waiting while Jason called everyone to attention and solemnly came to greet her, and then I stood in the doorway while she called everyone to attention and greeted me. It's a little joke that we do whenever I come home to visit. I think it's funny, at least, and the others seem to think it's cute as long as we don't do it every time.
Angie told Jason to continue running the practice while she and I warmed up. I caught a few glances and whispers of the "who's that guy?" variety from some of the lower-ranked belts, and I grinned. It's fun to be the Mysterious, Important Stranger sometimes.
Master Wilson never showed, but Grandmaster Park did, about ninety minutes into the practice. He had Angie and me do a free-fighting demo, which was impressive because she's as good as I was when I was her age. (Of course, I had to be a little careful there, because I fight dirty when I'm fighting Zoinks, which would not go over well at the studio.) He gave his little talk like he always did, we meditated for a while, and then practice was over.
"Come with me," he told me. I followed him into his office. He sat down at his desk and indicated that I should sit down. A few students were still hanging around out in the main room, so he switched to Korean, which I understood nearly as well as English. "Trevor," he said, "I want to talk with you about your training."
"Er, my training, sir?"
"Yes. Your parents worry that you spend all your time doing Tae Kwon Do instead of going to college."
I didn't say anything. What was there to say? I already knew they disapproved of what I had told them I was doing with my time, and I couldn't really blame them.
Grandmaster Park folded his hands. "Trevor, I know you want to be high-ranking; I know you want to be a Tae Kwon Do master. On the one hand, I am pleased that you are devoting your life to your art. I can tell that you have been training very hard. On the other hand, your parents have been my good friends for many years, and I know they are unhappy. So, I have decided that I will not raise you to fifth Dan until you have quit this team that you are on and have enrolled in a college somewhere."
He raised a finger before I could say anything. "Do not be angry with your parents," he admonished me. "I have not spoken with them on this matter, and I do not wish you to, either. This is my decision, not theirs. If you want to be angry with someone, be angry with me." Then he crossed his arms and waited for me to erupt.
I didn't. There wouldn't be any point in getting mad. As far as he knew, he was doing the right thing, and I knew I couldn't persuade him otherwise, not without telling him stuff that I couldn't tell him. So, I got to my feet, bowed respectfully, and left the room without saying a word.
Angela was waiting for me outside the grandmaster's office. "Wow, that was harsh," she commented sympathetically as I grabbed my gym bag and began putting my shoes and socks on. I looked at her with surprise. She talks like such a typical Midwestern teenage girl that it's easy to forget that my sister can speak Korean (and Mandarin and Cantonese) as well as I can. It comes from having Chinese-born parents, I suppose, and a father who happens to be both an expert in Asian languages and an avid teacher.
I shrugged. "He means well, and he does have a point. I know Mom and Dad aren't thrilled with what I'm doing, and I don't think there's anything I can do to change their minds."
"You could . . . quit your team and go to college?" She kind of grinned and ducked her head when she said that, the way girls do when they know they're saying something you won't like to hear.
Even Angie was ganging up on me, huh? That stung, but I hid my feelings behind a serene smile. "Come on, little sis, let's go home. It's getting late."
We hadn't gone more than fifty yards from the studio when I began to hear that same whooshing sound we had heard before. Enclave wasn't giving up on me, it appeared. My Prime Indigo belt was in my room at home, but even if I were wearing it, I couldn't activate my force shield, not with Angie watching. It looked as though I would have to face down whatever monster they sent without any special powers.
I started to say a very bad word, but then I stopped myself. Gotta set a good example for the younger sib, after all. Except that Angie said the exact same very bad word when she realized what was happening.
I didn't have time to be shocked at hearing such foulness issue from my baby sister's lips, because the Zoinks showed up right about then. There were at least a dozen of them, maybe more, and they surrounded us before we had any chance to escape. And then I noticed two figures that stood out from the rest.
I knew one of the figures a whole lot better than I would have liked. He was a little guy, and I mean really little -- like, just a couple of feet tall. He had once been as human as me, but now, after Enclave had genetically altered him, he resembled nothing so much as a skeletally-thin scarlet hedgehog. I didn't know his real name, but Mike had nicknamed him JB Swift.
The second figure, whom I wished I knew a whole lot better than I did, towered over JB Swift, although she was only five-one, maybe five-two tops. She was . . . a puzzle.
As far as I have been able to determine, she had been born Li Lin-fa about twenty-one years ago in a little fishing village in eastern China. About six years ago, she had been sold to Enclave to repay some family debts, and JB Swift had somehow managed to impose two entirely new personalities on her: Lily Lee, who acted as a minder, a sort-of babysitter to Enclave monsters too stupid to do their jobs properly; and Crazy Kung Fu Zombie Chick (that's what I call her, anyway), who acted as JB Swift's personal enforcer and who could probably best any of us Primes except Shelley or me in a straight-up, one-on-one fight. Somehow, JB Swift was able to switch her from one personality to another using a remote control he carried.
Right now, she seemed to be simply watching everything passively, her face completely devoid of expression, which told me that she was currently in CKFZC mode. I muttered a different very bad word under my breath. Angie looked at me in surprise. "Do you know these guys?" she asked, so softly that only I could have heard her.
I ignored her question, putting my energy instead into struggling against the Zoinks who were grabbing at my arms. It was mostly for show; I was not about to escalate this into a real fight. Even unpowered, I could have handled, well, most of the Zoinks here on my own, but I had Angie to think of. I absolutely could not put her in any kind of danger.
Sure, she's a third-degree black belt and all, and she can handle herself pretty well, but I didn't know how good she'd be in a real knoc
k-down, drag-out. When you free-fight against a fellow student, you have to pull your punches a lot, and you're always careful not to actually hurt anybody. Zoinks don't care about scoring points and pulling punches, though; the only way I had discovered to win against a Zoink was to pound it until it couldn't get up again, and I was not about to see Angie get beaten up just because she hadn't learned that yet. And if Crazy Kung Fu Zombie Chick decided to enter the fight, we were just toast.
So, I let the Zoinks man-handle (or Zoink-handle) me while I struggled futilely against them. Beside me, Angie wasn't being a whole lot more effective. Once we were secured, JB Swift stepped forward. I half-expected him to say something trite like, "Well, well, well, who do we have here?" but he didn't. He just looked me over, glanced at Angie, and then signaled for the Zoinks to bring us along.
"H-hey, let us go!" I protested, just to make it look good. "Who are you, anyway? What do you want with us?"
He turned to look at me again, and I heard his deep, pleasant-sounding chuckle. For such a little guy, he certainly had a big voice. "I think you know who I am," he said, sounding pleased with himself, "just as I know who you are: the indigo Prime!"
My heart sank. He knew! Still, I felt I had to play dumb for Angie's sake. "You're nuts! I'm not Prime . . . whatever-you-said. And even if I were, why are you grabbing her, too? If you've got a beef with me, fine, let's settle it, but leave my sister out of this!"
JB Swift burst out laughing. "Your sister? How stupid do you think I am? She's no more your sister than I am!"
"Uh, yeah, I kind of am," Angie put in, sounding more annoyed than scared. "His sister, I mean. Not a big thrill for me, but there's not much I can do about it."
JB Swift laughed even harder. "Well, maybe you are his sister at that," he conceded, "but if he is the indigo Prime, then that almost certainly makes you . . . the purple Prime!"