Super Powereds: Year 3 (75 page)

                Walking toward the next Sim—another red-light, just to be safe—it occurred to Mary that perhaps she was the one being a bit too detached from the experience. Yes, they were just robots, but they were supposed to represent people. Then again, even if that were true, the human equivalent of a red-light Sim who refused to surrender might require killing to stop as well. A little detachment might be healthy, if she were able to hold on to it once she was in the real world.

                Mary nearly stopped in her tracks. Was she really trying to convince herself that it would be okay to be detached about the idea of killing? That was ridiculous; she was just trying to get around facing how much having to take a real human life would bother her. This was self-obfuscation; nothing more than a trick. It was the sort of thing Nick would have inflicted on her himself, had he been there.

                As Mary’s mind inadvertently centered on her absent friend, she unconsciously reached out as she had when he lived near her, groping for his mind to see what mischief the sunglasses-clad con man was up to. Of course, Nick no longer lived mere feet away, nor was he up in the observation room looking down on her. No, Nick was in his bed, in his apartment, nearly four miles from where Mary was currently standing.

                This time, Mary did stop, her whole body freezing as if she’d heard a Sim sneaking up behind her. Her breath became short, and her eyes grew wide, momentarily losing that honed concentration she’d been so intent on establishing. She stayed like that for nearly a full minute before moving again, this time, with a hurried gait as she cut a direct path toward the next Sim in her way.

                Nick was so far away from her . . . but Mary hadn’t spent nearly eighteen years as an uncontrolled telepath without gaining a little something from the experience. Though she’d reined in her listening since becoming a Super, she still possessed a range almost unmatched by any other telepath in the world.

                She needed to finish this test as quickly as possible. Nick was on a short clock, and there was no way to know how long he had. Mary wasn’t even sure what she’d be able to do for him.

                She just knew she had to try.

140.

               Mary’s face was stoic as she emerged from the stairwell, a few singe marks on her uniform, as well as a torn coat. She’d wanted to be graceful and precise in her strategy, showing she had more than raw telekinetic strength. The sudden time crunch had robbed her of that, forcing her to lean on the skillset she knew so well. In a way, it may have ultimately been a better tactic; because the shattered Sims left in her wake were an excellent reminder of just how powerful the short brunette woman truly was.

                “And with Mary Smith’s exam, today’s trial is complete,” Dean Blaine announced. “I want to congratulate you on an all-around excellent showing. Results will be posted after the winter break, but I should remind you that actual combat rankings are only recalculated between school years, so you won’t see any shift on that front. For those of you with classes, head on up and end your semester well. For those of you already done, take the rest of today as a nice long rest. You’ve all earned it.”

                 Dean Blaine exited the room, followed immediately by the professors. Presumably, they had some post-exam evaluating to do, or at least, a secret clandestine meeting to get to. As professional educators of the highest caliber, it would be unthinkable to suggest they were all heading off to celebrate the end of the semester with a large supply of liquor and fine wine.

                The class began filtering out, moving in small groups as they discussed who had done what with their friends. Before anyone in the Melbrook area could move, though, Mary held up her hand to draw their attention to her. She remained silent as people filtered out, waiting until only Vince, Roy, Alice, and Chad were around her.

                “Chad, you know we all think of you as a friend, right?” Mary asked.

                “I have grown to believe so, yes. And I feel the same toward all of you,” Chad said.

                “I’m genuinely happy to hear that. Okay, Chad, as a friend, I’m going to ask you to do something. Please don’t ask me to explain it, and please don’t question why. Just trust that I’ve got your best interests at heart for now.”

                Chad gave a small nod of understanding. Perhaps he would have been more surprised at the vague, mysterious words if he were not familiar with these students’ penchant for getting embroiled in non-conventional situations.

                “Go to class, or back to Melbrook, or wherever you need to go. We have to go do something else, and I can’t tell you what that is. You just need to trust me.”

                “Trust is a two-way street, as the saying goes,” Chad said. “Your desire to get me away indicates a lack of it on your part.”

                “I promise to explain everything, just later. Any question you want, answered to the fullest.”

                There was a pause as Chad contemplated the suggestion, then he turned and began heading out of the room. Before he crossed the threshold, he turned back to his dormmates and spoke a few parting words.

                “If you need me, I’ll be near my phone all day.”

                Then Chad was gone, and the remaining three students stared at Mary uncertainly. She waited several moments, until she hoped Chad had walked far enough away not to overhear her—though, with his hearing, that was impossible to gauge. After what she hoped was long enough, Mary continued, dropping her bombshell with no preamble or warning.

                “We have a serious issue. Nick needs our help, and we need to get to him right away.”

                “You mean Nicholas,” Alice corrected.

                “No. I don’t.”

                The curiosity that had been flickering in each of the students swelled into genuine blazes, burning in their chests even as they forced themselves to hold back from asking too much in this public environment.

                “What’s happening to him?” Vince asked immediately.

                “I’m not totally sure. I’ve only been getting bits and pieces. The one thing I do know is that he’s in danger of being totally erased. No more Nicholas with bits of the real deal shining through, no more knowledge of who we are; nothing. It will be like it was supposed to be all along—the Nick Campbell we knew will be completely wiped.”

                “No. Not this time.” Vince’s body grew unnaturally still. It was a testament to Dr. Moran’s sessions that he managed to keep all the energy contained within him. Not so much as a whisper of fire leaked out of Vince’s body, but his eyes burned all the same. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper, yet it was the sort of whisper that could make gods and kings shift in fear. “I’m not losing my friend again.”

                “We all feel that way,” Alice said.

                “Damn right we do,” Roy added. “So, how do we save him? I’m guessing Mary’s got some sort of scheme cooked up.”

                “‘Scheme’ is probably the best word for it,” Mary said. The confidence and power she’d displayed in the trial was gone, nerves having finally found their way into her voice. “I have a very long shot of an idea that probably won’t work.”

                “Well, that’s just perfect.” Alice noticed the looks the others were shooting her and quickly clarified. “No, I wasn’t being sarcastic. That really is perfect. If we’re going to rescue Nick, it should be with some crazy-ass long shot of a plan. It’s only appropriate.”

                A small laugh escaped Vince’s mouth in spite of himself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. That’s the sort of thing he’d cook up if he were here with us. Count me in, Mary.”

                “I haven’t even told you what the idea is,” Mary pointed out.

                “Doesn’t matter,” Roy said. “We trust you. You lead, we’ll follow.”

                Mary looked at Alice, who rolled her eyes. “Come on, do you even have to ask?”

                “Everyone quickly change out of your uniforms and into your street clothes. If you take longer than five minutes to get to the lifts, I’m leaving you behind. Time is not our friend today.”

141.

               The knock on the door surprised Jerome, who gave Eliza a quick glance as he rose from the couch. They’d been lax about watching the outside in their worry over Nicholas, and only now did he realize how idiotic that had been. If Nathaniel had gotten wind of this, or had orchestrated it in the first place, then it was the perfect chance for him to take out Nicholas for good. Jerome briefly contemplated smashing through the door rather than even taking the chance; only his experience halted the attack. Nathaniel didn’t just want to kill Nicholas, he wanted to defeat him. Killing a helpless opponent wouldn’t give the orange-eyed monster the victory he craved, so there was a solid chance it wasn’t him on the other side of the wooden barrier. Jerome still held a small gun to his side as he opened the door, just in case.

                What stared back at him were four familiar faces, lightly shining in sweat from what—he assumed—was the jog over. He recognized them easily, though that familiarity didn’t completely ease the tension in his gut. Nicholas was still being looked over; they hadn’t made any calls for help. These four being here spoke to an information leak, and that was not acceptable in his world.

                “We’re here to help Nick,” Mary announced, meeting his eyes despite the significant difference in their statures.

                “Nicholas is being looked at by a doctor right now. Once he’s done—”

                “The doctor won’t find anything,” Mary said, trying to brush her way past. Jerome stood firm in the door, blocking all entrance. “Listen to me: what’s happening is going on in his head, and seeing as how I know neither you nor Eliza have the ability to deal with that, we’re his only hope.”

                “Maybe so, but I still think it would be best to let the doctor fully examine him before we go trying anything crazy.” Jerome kept his words as polite as always, but his shoulders were squared and his feet were planted. It was clear he meant to defend this territory as he saw fit, even if it meant going against four Heroes-in-training.

                Vince shifted his own position, so that he was directly in front of Jerome. “I should probably warn you: my therapist thinks I ‘react with disproportionate aggression’ when someone tries to hurt my friends.”

                Both young men looked at each other for a long moment, a single twitch of muscle away from letting loose. What finally broke them apart was a new voice, one that spoke with both venom and sense.

                “Can you put away the dicks and the measuring tape until after Nicholas is saved?” Eliza said. “Jerome, get out of the fucking door. The rest of you, dial it back a few notches. We care about Nicholas too, but we’ve got to be careful who we let in.”

                Jerome moved aside, motions slow and controlled, and the others stepped into the apartment. If he bore any animosity at being ordered to stand down, Jerome kept it from his face. His expression was the same as always: politely neutral.

                “First off, how did you all know about Nicholas?” Eliza asked, once the door was shut. “We run a tight ship here, and this is important.” Vince was a bit surprised to see her so authoritative. She’d always been strong-willed, but not so much that she would immediately take control of a room filled with near-strangers.

                “Telepathy,” Mary said simply. “I overheard some bits of what’s happening to him in there.”

                Eliza cocked an eyebrow. “My understanding was that telepaths couldn’t hear unconscious thoughts.”

                It was Mary’s turn to be surprised; this woman knew more about how advanced minds worked than Mary herself had when she came to Lander. Then again, given the nature of Nick’s home life and accomplices, it did make sense for them to be well-versed in the capabilities of telepaths.

                “Most can’t. I’m a bit unique.”

                “Unique enough to help?”

                “Unique enough to try.”

                “I guess that’s better than our current plan, which is sit here with our thumbs up our asses and hope the doctor finds something,” Eliza admitted. “What are you going to do?”

                “Nick is stuck inside a trial, one set up when his memory was first wiped. He’s not doing well though, and I think he’s going to fail. I’m going to try going in and helping.”

                “You HCP people really can do some crazy shit, can’t you?” Eliza glanced from Mary to Vince, and her face softened as their eyes met. “Maybe that explains why you seem to fit in so well. Okay, give me a minute to clear the doctor out, and you can all go in.”

                Jerome raised his voice, just enough to be heard. “But protocol—”

                “Calm your ass down. I’m making this call, and if it goes bad, then it’s on me.”

                “Nicholas wouldn’t want them going into his head,” Jerome said.