Psion Alpha (28 page)

Byron’s
attention went to the screen where a news report showed several guards leading a
teenage girl out of a prison into an armed Humvee. “This is the third attempt
at moving Katie Carpenter,” the reporter stated, “more famously known as the
Friday the Thirteenth Killer, to an Ultramax prison facility in the mid-western
desert. During the last two transfers, Katie brutally murdered the guards in
her attempts to escape. Though these crimes have been added to her multi-life
sentence, all precautions have been taken to secure her and prevent further
incident. In other news, reports of dozens of fatalities from a new flu strain
has hit southern Europe and the northern coast of Africa—”

“She’s
a freak,” Omar commented as he muted the television, which now only showed
Katie Carpenter in a small box in the lower corner of the screen.

“Come
on,” Diego said, “she’s misunderstood.”

“That
chick? She may be hot, but she’s a freak. She would eat your pretty face.”

“All
the hottest girls are freaks. That’s the way it is. There’s a direct proportion
between being beautiful and crazy.”

Omar
smacked Diego on the shoulder. “Sorry, but you’re just crazy.”

Diego
continued to watch, mesmerized, until the news report switched to another
topic. “All right, time to go ace another exam.”

Sadly,
Diego spoke the truth. Byron performed well on his tests, well enough to move
into fourth place in the class. But no matter how well he did, Diego always
scored slightly higher, expanding his lead over Byron and the others by another
tenth of a percentage. Byron told himself that it didn’t matter yet—that he
still had another year—but he had a feeling Diego was already untouchable.

The
fight between Omar and Felix Karimani for the golden skull took place on the
last night of exams week. Byron had reserved excellent seats for his friends,
but Emerald’s went unused. She was supposed to sit between Otto and Trapper,
but Trapper couldn’t convince her to join them. The fight took place in an
underground arena beneath the quad. The entrance to the arena was through the
statue of the male and female Elite. Thirty minutes before the fight started,
the arena was already at maximum capacity.

Trapper
kept an eye out for Emerald, but Byron knew she wouldn’t come. If he had to
guess, she was probably packing her bags for home. He tried not to think about
whether or not she would return for her second year, because whenever he
thought about her not returning, it made him ill. Three minutes before the
fight began, Diego took Emerald’s spot.

“Thanks
for saving me a seat,” he told Byron. “I didn’t have a ticket, but talked the Elite
at the door into letting me have this spot since your girlfriend isn’t coming.”

“She
is coming,” Byron said, “so you can leave.”

“No,
she isn’t.” Diego grinned. “She hasn’t spoken to you in weeks. You’re not a
good liar, Byron. Not at all.”

Since
Byron couldn’t get Diego to leave, he resorted to the next best option:
ignoring him. By the time the lights in the arena dimmed and spotlights shone
down on the fight cage, he forgot Diego was even there. Nicoletta Clardonsky
entered the cage and announced the fighters without much fanfare. According to
Otto, who’d watched all the fights, she always officiated. Felix came out
first. Unlike professional fighters, Felix wore no shorts or gloves, but full
Elite combat gear, including the boots. He was short and stocky with fair hair
and bright eyes. When Omar came out, he walked tall and straight so that he
seemed to tower over his opponent. Felix, however, did not seem intimidated. He
actually looked eager.

The
rules for Elite cage fighting were not like typical ring matches, either. The
only restrictions in place were killing, crippling, or blinding the opponent.
Beyond that, Clardonsky reserved the right to stop any fight at any time. She
clapped her hands loudly, and the fight began. The arena fell silent. No
cheers, no clapping, no encouraging either fighter to pummel the other, just
watchful silence. The effect was eerie. Besides the sounds of the two fighters’
feet scuffling on the mat of the cage, all Byron heard was Diego’s faint
muttering.

“That’s
it,” he said in a breathy whisper. “Like I showed you. Use your size and
power.”

Omar
stared down Felix with a nasty snarl. Felix’s back was to Byron, so it was
possible that Felix reciprocated the expression. The reigning champion struck
quickly with a punch to Omar’s solar plexus from a low-crouching position. Omar
jerked to the side while trying to grab his opponent’s arm, but wasn’t nimble
enough to catch Felix. Felix countered with a nasty left cross to Omar’s jaw.
Omar stumbled back, stunned. Felix pounced with the precision of a champion
fighter, hitting Omar in the ribs and stomach.

“What
are you doing?” Diego mumbled. “That’s not—”

Felix
went for the groin, but Omar caught his foot and twisted it. Felix let his body
twist with his foot rather than allowing the limb to break. He hadn’t been on
the mat for more than a second when Omar smothered his smaller opponent with
his larger frame, landing vicious blow after blow to Felix’s face, ribs, and
eyes. The traumatic force behind each punch was savage and brutal, but
remarkably efficient. After five or six hits, Felix stopped trying to defend
himself. Then Clardonsky threw Omar off Felix, who did nothing but lay on the
mat as he bled from his nose and mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, Byron saw
Diego surveying the scene with an expression of cold triumph.

The
arena erupted in cheers as Omar raised his fist to the crowd.

Byron
turned to Trapper and Otto. “That was fast.”

“They’re
all like that,” Otto explained. “Not much dancing around in real fights.”

Even
still, Byron couldn’t believe it. Omar was ruthless, beast-like, and powerful.
Did Byron have such a person inside of him? He didn’t think so. If not, how
could he ever beat someone with such ferocity? How could he hope to win the
golden skull? Omar was one of the biggest kids in the school, and definitely
the meanest. Byron was only a sixteen-year-old kid who still hadn’t finished
growing.

“Come
on, man,” Trapper growled at Byron. “Let’s get out of here.”

Otto
and Byron followed as Trapper pushed through the crowd toward the exit.

“I
can’t believe Omar won that fight, dude,” Otto moaned.

“So
convincingly, too,” Byron added.

“The
only reason I went was because I wanted to see him lose.” Otto kicked at a pile
of snow as they crossed through the quad toward the dorm building. “Now I’m
depressed.”

“Cheer
up,” Byron said, “break starts tomorrow. Two weeks of studying to get a jump on
next semester!”

“Yay,”
said Otto and Trapper simultaneously with dull tones.

Bitter
winds blew across the quad. The young men jogged across the lawn into the
comfort of the living quarters building. Once Otto was out of earshot, Trapper
spoke.

“You
could beat Omar, you know.”

“No
way. You saw him. He is a beast. I have nothing to match it.”

Trapper
thrust out his hands and acted like he was shooting stuff from them. Byron
shoved him into the bedroom before someone saw what he was doing.

“You
want to get me in trouble? Keep it up!”

Trapper
laughed. “Stop being such a worry wart. And I’m serious about you versus Omar.
If I can’t hit you with a baseball bat, how can he touch you with his fists?”

“One
little problem, though. I am not allowed to use my Psion abilities!”

Trapper
shrugged Byron’s last sentence off. “What’s Wu going to do? Expel you? Highly
unlikely, man. Think about it. Really think about it! You’ll embarrass Omar in
front of the whole ETC with your freaking superpowers! Tell me that doesn’t get
you excited and I’ll—”

The
phone in their room rang. Trapper grabbed it first. The display told Byron that
it was Otto calling from his dorm.

“What’s
up?” Trapper asked into the phone. There was a pause. His eyes grew very wide,
either surprised or fearful. “That’s—that’s awesome, man. Are you serious?” He
glanced over at Byron. “Yeah, of course. We’re coming right now. Bye.” He
tossed the phone onto his bed and stared at Byron blankly for about three
seconds.

“What
is it?” Byron asked.

“Xian’s
awake. We can see him.”

“What?
Really?”

Trapper
rolled his eyes. “Yes, let’s go. Otto’s calling Emerald and telling her to get
her butt down there, too.”

They
hustled to the infirmary where Otto was already waiting. The infirmary was busy
that night. Both fighters sat in separate, quarantined areas. Nicoletta
Clardonsky stood behind Felix, who rested in a wheelchair while a nurse
examined him, and Diego chatted with Omar. Both of them looked up when Otto,
Trapper, and Byron entered.

“Can
I help the three of you?” the head nurse asked.

“We’re
here to see Xian,” Trapper answered. “They said he’s awake.”

Byron
watched to see how Omar and Diego would react. Diego leaned over and said
something quietly in Omar’s ear.

“He
woke about an hour ago,” the nurse responded in a terse voice. “Now he’s
asleep. Keep it that way.”

“They
said we could come down and see him!” Trapper exclaimed.

The
nurse hushed him with a finger to her lips and a fiery stare. “Precisely.
See
.
Not speak to.”

Otto
wiped his forehead with his middle finger as the nurse turned her back. As soon
as the nurse was out of sight, Trapper leaned over Xian with a worried
expression.

“He
looks a lot better, doesn’t he?” Otto said.

“Xian,”
Trapper hissed. “Hey, Xian, wake up.”

Xian
stirred in his bed, his eyes fluttering. “Trapper.… ”

Byron
wondered if Xian was even aware of what was going on.

“Xian,
you remember who hurt you?” Byron asked. “Can you talk, buddy?”

“Uh
oh,” Otto said. “Nurse is coming back this way.”

“Trapper
… ” Xian muttered. “Diego … help me.”

“Was
it Diego?” Byron asked. “Xian, did Diego hurt you?”

“Trapper
… help me … Diego.… ”

Trapper
took Xian’s hand. “Don’t worry, man. We’re not going to let anything happen to
you. Rest up, and we’ll stop by again in the morning. Heck, we’ll spend all day
here.”

“Yeah,
definitely,” Byron agreed. He looked at Otto. “Is Emerald coming?”

Otto
shook his head. “When I told her you’d be here, she said she’d stop by on her
own.”

Trapper
gave Byron an annoyed look. “Man, isn’t it time you apologize to her? How long
does this have to go on?”

Before
Byron could respond, the nurse pounced on them. “I thought I said no talking!
Get out! Let him rest.”

The
three boys had no choice but to leave. “Let’s just stop by Emerald’s room,”
Otto suggested. “Then we make Byron fix his mess.”

“How
many times do I have to say it?” Byron asked. “The problem is her, not me!”

“Grow
up, Byron,” Trapper said, “She’s one of us. You’re gonna lose a friend over
some stupid suspicion about her dad?”

They
talked all the way upstairs, debating whether or not they should stop by
Emerald’s dorm and force Byron to make amends. Byron adamantly refused to talk
to her. Trapper tried calling her once they got back to the dorm, but she
didn’t answer. Tired from his exams, the fight, and the lateness of the hour,
Byron crawled into bed and quickly fell asleep. His last thoughts were of
Emerald, wondering if Trapper was right, and if he, Byron, should just bite the
bullet and apologize.

Early
the next morning, he awoke to the sounds of pounding on his door. Byron sat up
quickly and looked over at Trapper, who rubbed his eyes and stared at the door
with an equally confused expression.

“Open
the door,” came a very official-sounding voice.

Byron
scrambled out of the bed and followed orders. Three Elite came in the room. One
of them jerked his thumb at Byron and Trapper. “You two, out of the room.”

The
clock showed 0517.
What on earth is going on?
Byron thought as he
followed the largest of the three Elite out of the room.

“Stand
there and don’t move,” the Elite said, pointing to the wall.

Byron
and Trapper watched with horror as two of the three Elite ransacked their room
while the third stood guard over them. They pulled out every drawer and dumped
its contents. Then they pulled off all the sheets, overturned the beds, and
tore clothes off of hangars. Everything was piled up in the middle of the room.
When they had searched every corner of the dorm, the Elite standing guard
touched his watch and spoke into it. “Byron and Jones’ room is secure. No
contraband found.”

“Move
to next room,” came the response, which sounded an awful lot like Commander
Wu’s voice.

One
of the Elite surveyed Byron like he was dog manure stuck on the bottom of his
boot. “Don’t go anywhere.”