Two scientists sent by the UN hovered at the edge of the room. One of them held a cage made of bulletproof glass, the airholes on the sides no bigger than pinpricks. The other wore latex gloves and brandished a syringe filled with some kind of sedative. They both watched Regal nervously, although the Chimæra paid them no attention whatsoever.
“Oh,” was all Caleb managed to say to his uncle.
“Over the next six weeks, that Academy’s going to be filling up with more than a hundred Human Garde, wild-ass teenagers all, from dozens of different countries. It’s going to be a logistical nightmare keeping that place safe without adding shape-shifting monsters into the mix. You get me?”
Caleb nodded.
“Plus, we don’t know what diseases these Chimærae could be carrying. They can transform into damn near anything. The Loric didn’t think much of our environment when they set all this loose,” Lawson continued.
Caleb looked into Regal’s face. The bird cocked his head and flexed his beak. He didn’t look sick to Caleb, but his uncle probably knew best.
“Okay,” Caleb said, unable to keep some glumness out of his voice.
“It’s just temporary,” Lawson said. “Until the lab coats have a chance to check these beasts over, make sure they aren’t a risk. You’ll get Regal here back once he’s been cleared.”
“I understand,” Caleb replied, swallowing. “I . . . have you told Ran and Nigel yet? They won’t . . . I don’t think they’ll like this very much.”
“I hoped that you’d help me convince them,” Lawson said. “I know those two are . . . headstrong.”
Caleb snorted. “They won’t listen to me.”
“Well, we aren’t really having a discussion,” Lawson said with a stiff shrug. “This is the way it’s gonna be. They’ll fall in line.”
At a wave from Lawson, the two scientists approached Caleb and Regal. Caleb felt Regal’s talons tighten on his arm, the Chimæra shifting uneasily. He held his free hand out towards the scientist with the injection.
“Better let me do it,” he said. “He doesn’t trust you guys.”
The doctor seemed relieved to hand over the injection to Caleb. Regal’s dark eyes blinked, his head cocked, as he looked from Caleb to the needle.
“Sorry, buddy. I know this sucks,” Caleb whispered to his Chimæra, hopeful that his uncle wouldn’t overhear, or at least wouldn’t judge him for being soft. “It’s for the best, I guess.”
Regal let out a squawk when the needle went in. Caleb thought it sounded more like sadness than it did pain, but he beat back this thought. Just like he beat back the duplicate that was trying to leap out of him, bundle up Regal and sprint as far away as possible.
Once Regal was peacefully asleep in his cage, they went in search of the other Garde and their Chimærae. Caleb had trouble keeping his shoulders from slumping on the way.
They found Nigel first, lounging in the hammock he’d hooked up in his room, listening to some screeching punk rock through a pair of oversized headphones. Bandit, surly-looking as his owner, rested on Nigel’s belly with his furry legs up in the air.
“Mr. Barnaby, we need a moment—,” Lawson began.
Nigel spotted the scientists—their gloves, the cage, the needle. He read the sullen look on the face of that goodie-two-shoes Caleb. He got the picture quickly.
“My arse! Run, Bandit! Escape the bloody fascists!”
Bandit listened. He dove off Nigel and transformed in the air, shrinking down to a mouse. He scurried toward the nearest air vent, the scientists too mesmerized by the transformation to react.
Not Caleb. He had orders. With a flick of his telekinesis, he shut the vent, cutting off Bandit’s escape route. Then he plucked the fleeing Chimæra up, holding him telekinetically aloft, gently, his legs kicking. Bandit started to transform into a larger form—dark fur, claws and fangs. Before things could get any further out of hand, Lawson snatched the tranquilizer syringe from the frozen scientist and jabbed it into Bandit’s morphing haunch.
“Young man, I appreciate your loyalty to this animal, but Earth Garde has determined—”
Lawson made it only that far through his lecture before Nigel punched him in the jaw.
Nigel was scrawny and hadn’t thrown a lot of punches in his life, but what his punch lacked in power it made up for in passion. Not to mention the element of surprise. The blow caught Lawson off guard and sent the old man stumbling back. He ended up flopping right into Nigel’s hammock, his legs kicked awkwardly up in the air.
Two duplicates sprung forth from Caleb and grabbed Nigel by the arms, pinning him up against the wall.
“You’re just making things worse, Nigel!” Caleb yelled, the duplicates echoing his words.
“Shove it up your ass, ya sellout wanker,” Nigel replied. Then he took a deep gulp of air and bellowed, his sonic manipulation Legacy making his next words loud enough to rattle the walls, not to mention make everyone in the room wince and stumble.
“RAN! THEY’RE STEALING THE CHIMÆRAE!”
Nigel’s siren-like scream reached Ran all the way on the beach. She sat cross-legged, peaceful up until that point. Gamora basked in the sun next to her. At Nigel’s scream, Gamora craned his stout neck to look up at Ran. She frowned thoughtfully, gently scratching Gamora under his chin.
“Better go into the water,” she told him in Japanese. “Find me when it is safe, my friend.”
Gamora seemed to understand. He trundled to the shoreline, glanced back once and then plunged gracefully into the ocean. Ran sighed.
Their departure for the Academy wasn’t off to the best start.
CHAPTER SIX
KOPANO OKEKE
LAGOS, NIGERIA
WORD OF THE INCIDENT ON THE FOOTBALL PITCH traveled fast. Kopano was famous. Yesterday’s tormenters were today’s spokespeople, telling all their friends that Alien Boy Kopano was for real. Despite his mistreatment at their hands, Kopano didn’t harbor any resentment towards those witnesses to his big day. In fact, he regarded them fondly, like a reluctant baby bird might view the cruel mother that launched him from the nest. Kopano didn’t hold a grudge.
Everyone wanted to see what Kopano could do. “Prove it,” they kept saying, the same challenge over and over. “Prove it.”
By the end of the next school day, Kopano’s face hurt from grinning. He’d spent much of the day doing tricks—levitating desks, juggling objects, even flying a couple of his screaming classmates through the lunchroom. His teachers were in awe, uncertain what the protocol was in matters of superpowered disruption. Kopano was one of their better students, usually quiet and courteous, so they let him have his day. After dismissal, the principal pulled him aside.
“What is happening to you is very good,” the principal said. “You will be the pride of Nigeria. But please, Kopano, you must understand, this is a place of learning. You must try not to be so distracting to the other students.”
“Not to worry,” Kopano boasted. “Soon, I will be joining the Garde in America.”
Kopano went home and told his family about what the principal said. His mother shook her head wearily. She’d spent the entire day at church. She told Kopano that she was praying for his safety, but Kopano was certain that meant she was trying to pray away his Legacies.