There is a pause. The speaker lets it sink in, and we are stunned. For some reason, although we knew the competition was going to be tough, we had no idea how tough.
“Oh, well then, we’re screwed,” says one of George’s dorm-mates.
Everyone’s looking around, looking at each other, and everyone’s got the same evaluating nervous stare. Will the person next to me make it? Will I make it?
“All right,” I say suddenly. Not sure what it is, but something weird prompts me to open my usual big mouth. “We knew the odds were sucky going in. So, nothing has changed. We are still going to try as hard as we can! All of us. . . . Right?” And I look around at my brother, at Logan, the others nearest to me, at their faces full of depression.
Yeah, great going, idiot cheerleader Gwen.
Meanwhile the official on the podium is telling us more unpleasant stuff.
“I was instructed by the Atlantis Central Agency to inform you that you have one day, tomorrow, to rest and prepare for the Semi-Finals. As you know, there are no classes tomorrow, and your time is yours, up to the 10:00 PM curfew. However you will be ready at 8:00 AM sharp the following morning, which is Semi-Finals day.
“Your instructions for that morning are the following. You must wear the standard grey uniform that you were issued on your first night here. You must wear the armband with the color of your Quadrant, and your ID token. You must line up, in order of your Standing Score number, at the doors of this building at 8:00 AM. Further instructions will be given on the day of Semi-Finals, and no earlier. Do not attempt to find out ahead of time, and do not attempt to circumvent or cheat the process in any way, or you will be Disqualified.”
As the official speaks, the sea of Candidates is filled with turbulent whispers.
“The Semi-Finals will begin at 8:00 AM local time and end at 5:00 PM local time, in every time zone. You will also need to know that the entire Semi-Finals process will be televised and fed to the various media, for the whole eight hours from start to finish. Every moment of your progress will be recorded and transmitted via live-feed. For obvious reasons—since there are sixteen-thousand-five-hundred Regional Qualification Centers worldwide—not every RQC will be shown on the main prime time broadcast, with the exception of special highlights, although every site will have a dedicated pay-per-view channel and net feed available for the general public. However—and this is where it becomes important for all of you here present—Pennsylvania Regional Qualification Center Three has been selected for prime time feed, together with ten others. Which means that the eyes of the nation and the world will be on you even more so than on other sites.”
The noise in the stadium swells up another notch.
“Interesting,” George says. “I wonder why they chose us out of so many thousand others?”
“I have a pretty good idea.” Amy Calver glances at George. I notice how she seems to stare directly into his eyes, and her own eyes open really wide every time she looks at my brother.
“What?” George looks back at her. His expression when he meets her eyes is pretty interesting too, I note.
“It’s because of that Atlantean big shot Command Pilot, whassisname,” she says. “He’s always here, every day, apparently. We appear to be his special project. Plus there’s that awful shuttle investigation. . . . So yeah, I bet the Atlantis Central Agency has its eye on us for all these reasons.”
“You’re likely right,” George muses.
I say nothing, but again the image comes to me, of Aeson Kass, as he’s speaking in sorrow and leashed fury from the platform, surrounded by the terrifying stone-like Correctors. . . .
“Gwen . . .” Logan is telling me something and I realize I’ve spaced out.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, blinking.
“Let’s go for a walk tonight after dinner,” he says. And his eyes get the momentary intense focus that I know very well by now . . . and it sends pleasant shivers through me.
“Okay,” I reply, starting to smile because I know what this is leading up to—our favorite hidden nook in the alley, and the two of us alone.
“Do you still have to see Kass at eight tonight?” Logan says.
“Yeah. Though, I think this might be the last time.”
Logan nods. “In that case, pay special attention to what he might tell you this last time. It might be especially useful.”
I nod, thinking of what to expect. As usual I get a feeling of minor shame for partially lying to Logan about what happens with me at those training sessions. But I’ve been asked to not talk about it, and for the sake of Blayne and his special training, I don’t. And even so, keeping a minor secret from Logan, even one that’s not entirely my own, feels wrong somehow. . . .
The official up on the platform is talking about the Standing Scores and the Achievement Score breakdown. This is all super important, and yet for some reason I’ve stopped paying attention.
Instead, I am thinking about what will happen tonight.
Chapter 30
The assembly is let out after a surprisingly long time. We have been made to listen to so much mind-boggling detail of numbers, scores and standings, and general protocol, that none of it seems to matter. Most important takeaway—a 10 breakdown score is almost never given out, and even the best scores Candidates received only range from 6 to 8. Which means that my Voice score of 10 is an outlier.
Dinner goes by quickly, as I eat in a hurry with Laronda and then go to see Gracie briefly over at her dorm. Turns out, Gracie has received a Standing Score of #4,482, slightly better than my own, thank goodness. And, she tells me with relief that Gordie has received a #1,941, which is the best of all of us Gees.
“I looked his up on the dorm smart-board,” she says, pointing to the wall, as we sit in the Red Dorm Five lounge.
“Wow, it never occurred to me to just look you guys up on my own dorm board,” I say sheepishly. “Okay, I am officially a total dork.”
“Yeah, you are,” Gracie says with a silly grin. Nearby, Charlie Venice is being extra loud with a few other guys, and Gracie looks at him occasionally with a roll of her eyes whenever their noise level goes way up.
We glance around and, even this late in the day, the smart-board is surrounded by a bunch of Candidates who are gawking at it, looking up their own and other people’s Standing Scores and their own AT breakdowns.
“They’re trying to figure out who got the top 200 scores,” Gracie says sullenly. “Cause those people are going to make it. I know at least one guy, he got a #106—”
“Hey!” I put my hand on her arm. “Don’t think that way. These crappy numbers, good or bad, don’t mean a thing when it comes to your determination. You and I and all of us will Qualify,” I tell her, even though I’m unsure I believe any of it myself.
“Yeah, whatever.” And Gracie looks away from me. “I wonder what Mom and Dad are having for dinner tonight. . . .”
I shut that thought out of my head by force. Then I check the time. “Okay, I need to head out. Logan’s waiting for me and then I have to go over to my training appointment.”
“Whatever. Go. Your two dates are waiting.”
“Dates? What are you talking about, Gracie?”
But she only shrugs stubbornly and I have no time to argue.
I meet Logan at seven-forty near our usual spot. The moment I step into the place of shadow between two buildings where the bright lights of the compound and the surveillance cameras are blocked by a small portion of wall, Logan is there, and his hands close around me, tight.
“Gwen. . . .” His words come muffled, as he buries his face in my neck, and I feel the heat of his mouth travel against my skin, as he devours me.
Yeah, I know, we are both crazy to be risking getting caught like this.
Because it would mean instant Disqualification.
And yet, it’s like a compulsion. . . . I know it is for me—the strange head-spinning visceral need to be always touching him, to feel hi
m holding me, to get as close as possible, skin against skin. . . . And it must be the same for him, because he keeps on coming back to this.
Minutes later we come apart, breathless and panting. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and he is shaking. “Gwen,” he says. “I need—I need to tell you something.”
I watch him, as I work to slow down my own breathing. Should I be worried? “What?”
“Okay. . . .” He pauses. “This is not easy. . . . I am going to tell you something very important and I need you to listen and trust me. And, I need you to promise me that you will not speak a word of this to anyone. And I mean anyone—not your brothers or sister, not any of your friends.”
“Okay,” I say, my parted lips hovering near a smile. “Now you’re scaring me. . . .”
But his eyes, dark in the shadow, are glinting with intensity. “Promise me!”
“All right! I promise.”
He puts his hands on my arms just below the shoulders, and I feel the grip of his strong fingers biting into me. He then leans closer, as if he is about to kiss me again, but instead speaks near my ear. “Gwen, I am not who you think I am.”
“What do you mean—” A cold fear has entered my gut, and everything is suddenly very numb.
But he continues. “This is going to sound very strange, but please bear with me. I am not merely a Candidate. I am working on behalf of a government-sanctioned special operations group—”
My pulse begins to race in my temples and I am suddenly drowning in cold. “What are you saying?”
Bu he continues, speaking hurriedly and firmly in a strange cold voice. “I have been trained and planted as a high-probability Candidate who is most likely to Qualify—
“What?”
He grips my shoulders and shakes me slightly. “Gwen! Listen, please. Remember what I said, this is very important, and I need you to trust me. Now, I was recruited months ago, as soon as the asteroid situation started and we were informed of the Atlantean terms of Qualification.”
I am staring at him, my lips parted, in absolute stunned confusion. But he continues, and his hands go up to gently smoothe back a lock of my hair that has fallen across my face. “I told you my brother is in the military. Well, there’s more. . . . He’s a member of clandestine special forces, a special division that was formed to deal specifically with the Atlantis situation. Earth Union was specifically formed to observe and infiltrate on behalf of the United States government and allied forces of the United Nations. I was one of the first trainees my brother Jeff brought in.”
“You told me your brother was deployed overseas,” I mutter, as my mind has suddenly lost much of its focus.
“It was all I could tell you,” Logan speaks quickly. “In fact, I would not be saying anything at all now, and none of this would even matter, if not for my new orders.”
“Your orders? Wait, are you a terrorist? Were you behind the sabotage and the shuttle explosion? Oh my G—”
“No, Gwen, no!” He speaks in a rush, and his hands clench my shoulders painfully. “I am far from a terrorist, believe me, we had nothing to do with the tampering! In fact, Earth Union operatives have been put at a serious disadvantage by the half-assed disaster that some idiots created here at the RQC. We were ready to intercept those stolen navigation chips—”
“Disadvantage? Innocent people died, it was a tragedy!” I am panting with emotion.
“I know! And it was awful and regrettable, and again, we had nothing to do with it! We do not operate like that. But you must know that ‘innocence’ is a relative thing. I am not saying those Atlanteans deserved it, but no one is innocent in this, no one—trust me when I tell you this—”
I stare at Logan as though he’s an alien being. “Trust you?”
His eyes are fierce with emotion. “Yes! Trust me! It’s the only thing I ask of you. Under other circumstances, I would still be discreetly performing my function in this and keeping everyone else I care about safely out of it, and no one would even need to know. Yes, I am sorry. . . . I am so sorry I had to withhold so much from you, but now—now I’ve been authorized to recruit you.”
“Okay, what?” My jaw drops yet again. “Recruit me? What are you saying? For what?”
“Your voice,” he says. “It is an unprecedented advantage. No one on our side knew about this, about the potential, even about its existence, not until you demonstrated such an impossible ability to control orichalcum devices—”
I find that I am suddenly getting sick. “So what is this, then?” I say, starting to draw away from his touch. “Why are you—why are you with me? Is it just because of my voice? Is that it? None of this is real? You and me? It’s all some kind of bull—”
“Gwen, no!” He places his hand on my cheek, but I push him away. “Gwen, listen to me—I admit, at first I was only observing you, being generally friendly, following orders. But it changed. Everything changed. . . . As I got to know you, the real true genuine you, not just your voice but the girl, Gwen Lark, with her vibrant eyes and shy smile and brave opinions, I started to feel for you. And now, I really have strong feelings—”
“Please, just—stop it!” My vision is suddenly getting clouded with all the liquid that’s pooling in my eyes. My voice cracks.
“Gwen, I care about you. I really do! And recruiting you is not an easy decision, because I know I am taking a risk here, by laying it all out for you. Please think—this is not just a deception, there is a good greater reason for it. It’s a matter of life and death for all of us on Earth, not just the US government. Because what we’re doing is an attempt to save everyone—not just the ten million so-called lucky teenagers who will Qualify, but as much of the human population of this planet as we can. Can you understand now why I am in this, why I want you to be in this too?”
“Okay,” I whisper. “I understand. If what you’re saying is true, then yeah, I do . . . understand. But it still hurts like hell to know that you and me, we’re kind of fake.”
“Didn’t you just hear what I said? We’re real! Nothing about what I feel for you has changed!” He frowns and then tells me something else. “You know how we’ve supposedly met for the first time here at the RQC despite going to the same school for three years? Well, that’s not true either. I’ve seen you at school before, and noticed you, long ago. . . . Maybe even from day one. I knew that you sort of liked me, and I knew that you looked at me, like all the time. . . . That time in the cafeteria when we collided and you got flustered and spilled something all over your feet, you were sweet and cute, and you made an impression on me. And I might have said something, but you were so incredibly shy in your crush, and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. . . .”
As Logan speaks, I find my face is flushing bright horrible red, and I put my hands up to my cheeks. Holy lord, he knows everything!
“I—I had a crush on you for three years . . .” I whisper, trembling, while tears start to run down my face in torrents.
“I know, my girl, hush . . . I know.” And he puts his warm muscular arms around me and holds me very, very tight, so that I can barely breathe. And again I feel his lips against my throat, and then I sort of lose it, and just bawl, silently, desperately. . . .
A few moments later we separate and I wipe the mess that’s my face with the back of my hand. “I don’t really know what we are any more,” I whisper. “But if I am to be ‘recruited,’ whatever that means—not saying that I agree to anything—but supposedly if I am, then what do I do?”
Logan exhales in some relief and smiles at me, and runs his fingers along my cheek. His expression is gentle and beautiful. “You don’t need to do much of anything at all—for now. Only look and listen and pay careful attention.”
“You mean, spy?”
“Nothing so drastic. For starters, I want you to listen very carefully to what Command Pilot Kass has to say to you, and also observe what he does—what’s in his office, whom he talks to,
anything that might be of interest. This is likely your last chance to do it, that’s why I felt I had to tell you everything now . . . before you went in to see him tonight.”
“Okay. . . .” I gulp and blink to dry my eyes. “I am not a spy. I hate lying. But this—this, I can try.” And then I realize it must be near eight PM. “I—need to go.”
“Go!” He nods, still smiling lightly, his gaze intensely focused on me.
I turn away without another glance, and everything inside me has been turned upside down.
Apparently I didn’t know Logan at all. And I see now, I don’t know him even more at this moment.
My emotions, my mind—everything is in impossible turmoil as I hurry to my appointment with Aeson Kass.
When I open the door to Office 512, I am a few minutes late. Blayne is already on his hoverboard, keeping it almost upright after many days of hard practice with his lower body. Part of his exercise training is to stay immobile and balanced that way, so he is already hard at work.
I am supposed to mostly watch and learn by observation. However, during this fourth week, we’ve tried a few LM Forms exercises using weapons, and Aeson has let me do most of the sparring in his stead. He merely watches us occasionally as he sits working at the console surveillance center where he scans the many screens and takes calls.
Tonight, Aeson does not seem to be here.
I am guessing he’s inside the private rooms behind that inner door where we have not been allowed.
However, as I wait, I find I am almost shaking—that’s how unsteady with nerves I am after my mind-blowing exchange with Logan. . . .
Only now is it really starting to sink in. Holy lord! Logan’s secretly in special ops, working for some government org I never heard of. Is any of it even true? And if so, what am I going to do? What should I do?
Furthermore, Logan knows the true extent of my crazy feelings—has known that I like him, for all these years!
And now, I don’t know what I feel about any of it. . . . Or if I even believe him!