Mutation (13 page)

Chapter 18

The next few days flew by.  The first two, of course, consisted of the much-maligned orientation that we newbies had heard about.  It essentially boiled down to what the principal - a former super named Magnavolt - called the “Three P’s”:  Punctuality, Performance, and Persistence.  (Basically, be on time, always do your best, and always strive to improve.)

We were also informed of how communications with Earth would occur.  Basically, for one hour every week, the vortex tunnel would be open.  This was primarily for getting essentials for the school - food, supplies, and so on - but for students it was the only time when the communications interface would be made available for our use, allowing us to call home via special phones that had to be checked out for sixty-minute intervals.  If you missed that one-hour window, you had to wait another week to make your call.  (It was also when mail and packages would go back and forth, so any letters going home needed to be in the mail stack by then or - as with phone calls - you’d have to wait another seven days.)

The only other thing really hammered into us concerned the use of our powers.  In essence, we could use our powers at school - which was expected, since we were here to learn to be superheroes - but any use of them outside of training that resulted in harm or damage to other students, staff, faculty, or property could subject the individual in question to suspension.  That made me wonder how Adam got away with his practical jokes, but I decided that this was probably one of those rules that was not heavily enforced - or, more likely, there was an unwritten rule among the students about not ratting out your fellow pupils.

The two days of orientation were followed by the weekend, so those like me who were new to the school got one last taste of freedom before classes were to actually begin.  For returning students like Electra, however, not being required to go to orientation meant that they had four days off, as Mouse and I had previously discussed.  However, their presence at school probably was necessary, as it got them acclimated to a structured environment once again:  getting up by a certain time (unless they didn’t want breakfast), figuring out their schedules so they could see if facilities or classes had been relocated, adhering to curfew, etc.

Although Electra and I were able to squeeze in some alone time for talking and several long walks holding hands, the majority of our weekend was spent with Smokey and Adam, who, I noticed, didn’t seem to have a lot of close friends.

“It’s his practical jokes,” Electra had told me when I asked her about it.  “They tend to alienate people.  I’m surprised he hasn’t pulled one on you yet.”

I didn’t bother telling her about what happened at lunch that first day, but what she told me gave me some insight into the group dynamics here at the Academy.

After the weekend, a certain melancholy seemed to settle over the student body as classes began.  I can’t speak for anyone else, but in my case there was adequate reason for much wailing and gnashing of teeth:  the course load Mouse had chosen for me was going to be a rigorous, fast-paced affair.  Just looking at the course syllabi made me want to scream, and by the end of the second day I felt my head was going to burst with everything the instructors were trying to cram in it.

The lone bright spot of the week came on Wednesday, when we got a chance to do combat training as the last class of the day.

There were actually several combat areas located around the school.  The most sophisticated one used holograms.  For my first day, however, I was sent to a different facility, which utilized robots that looked like crash-test dummies as stand-ins for supervillains.

Without bragging, the combat was a cakewalk for me.  I’d already had years of training under Gramps and BT, so to a certain extent I was a veteran with respect to exercises like this.  So, if required to put the “villain” in a certain area, I just teleported him; if I had to disarm him, I did so telekinetically; if I had to sneak past someone, I simply turned invisible.

In short, I aced every round of combat they presented to me.  Of course, this first day was really meant to be more of an assessment for the new people as opposed to seeing how we’d do when things got hot and heavy.  Regardless, the training instructor declared in disgust this level was too easy for me and that he was bumping me up to the holographic combat arena for the next week.

I left the combat area a little full of myself, with my head so far in the clouds that I almost bumped into Adam, who appeared almost out of nowhere and fell into step beside me.

“Where’d you come from?” I asked, still heading towards the exit from this part of the building.

“Upstairs,” he said, pointing at a stairwell I hadn’t noticed before.  “Observation booth.”

“There’s an observation booth?” I asked in surprise.

“Of course, and it was a full house.  Everybody wanted to see how the great Kid Sensation would do.  And, of course, I knew there’d be some betting action on your performance, and I wanted to get in on it.”

“So, how’d you make out?”

He shrugged.  “I lost fifty bucks betting against you.”

I laughed, and gave him a playful punch on the arm as we stepped out the door.

And there was the principal, Magnavolt.

“Jim, I need you to come with me,” he said.  Then he turned and walked away without waiting to see if I’d follow.

I looked at Adam, who shrugged, and then I took off after the principal.  Adam, keenly interested in what was going on, came with me.

Magnavolt wasn’t particularly tall but he had a long stride, so he stepped through the hallways at a fast clip.  Not only his emotions (which I was picking up) but also his body language radiated tension, indicating that whatever was happening was important.

My immediate thought was that something had happened to Mom or Gramps - or worse, both.  But Mom was supposed to be at a writer’s convention, and Gramps should be on a fishing trip with some old cape buddies.  Neither of them had said anything before I left, but I’d picked up on the fact that things at home were going to be a little quiet without me, and so both had looked for ways to occupy the time.

After a few minutes of high-stepping through the hallways, we reached the Academy’s administrative wing, which housed the principal’s office, teacher’s lounge, and a few other areas.  We marched straight in, right past the receptionist on duty and into Magnavolt’s office.  Once there, he directed us to a connecting conference room.  Lights, obviously motion-activated, came on automatically as we entered, and I saw several executive chairs positioned around a nice-sized, rectangular conference table.  However, Magnavolt didn’t take a seat, so Adam and I followed his lead.

“Okay, we’re here,” Magnavolt said, seemingly to no one in particular.  I looked in the direction where he seemed to be staring, and noticed what appeared to be a large flat screen monitor - at least fifty inches - mounted on the wall.  The screen was actually split in two; on the left side was Mouse (seemingly sitting at a worktable in his lab), and on the right were two men seated at a desk.  One of them I’d never seen before.  He was wearing a dark blazer with a white shirt and earth-tone tie.  He was rather thin, wore glasses, and was practically bald on top of his head, although he still had a fair amount of brown hair on the sides and presumably at the back.

All in all, he fit the stereotypical appearance of a weaselly, government bureaucrat.

The man seated next to him was someone I immediately recognized.  It was Schaefer.  He sat there, staring at me with a blank expression.

“Jim Carrow?” asked the man in the blazer, looking from me to Adam.

“Right here,” I said, raising my hand, a little surprised to be the subject of an interdimensional phone conference.

“I’m Morgan Pace,” he said.  “I have a warrant to take you into custody.  It’s been delivered to your principal”
–
at this point Magnavolt handed me a sheaf of papers I didn’t even know he’d been holding
–
“who has verified its authenticity and confirmed its authority.”

I quickly skimmed what had been handed to me, trying to pull out the important parts while Adam read over my shoulder:

By the authority vested in me by this nation and its Constitution…as a federal judge…hereby authorize…take into custody…wherever found in our borders…

I heard Adam speak up as I continued perusing the document.  “Don’t you have to inform his parents of what you’re doing?  He
is
still a minor.”

“And who are you?” Pace asked.

“Legal counsel,” Adam replied, ever the jokester.  Pace harrumphed, clearly unsure of whether to take Adam seriously or not, but then said, “We attempted to reach his mother and grandfather, but were unsuccessful.”

I thought about Mom and Gramps, both ironically unavailable with something like this taking place.

“However,” Pace continued, “we did the next best thing.  Magnavolt is principal at the Academy, so he legally has guardianship of Jim Carrow’s person.  And out of a sense of caution we also contacted, uh”
–
Pace seemed to look at something on the table in front of him
–
“
Mouse
, his mentor.” He wrinkled his nose as he said Mouse’s name, as if it were a dirty word.

“This was issued last week,” Mouse said, looking at what was apparently a copy of the warrant.

“Yes,” Pace said, steepling his fingers and leaning forward, “and we actually sent a team to apprehend the subject, but he resisted.”

“That’s not exactly true,” I said, as Mouse looked at me in alarm.  “They just showed up and started with the fisticuffs.  They never presented a warrant.”

Pace opened up his hands in a noncommittal gesture.  “It’s true that some of our agents have a tendency to get a little overzealous, so maybe they did overlook that tiny detail.  But that would be nothing more than a technicality.”

In other words, Estrella and her crew liked to brawl.  That certainly explains why they decided to take on the security guards at the mall as opposed to Estrella simply teleporting them to an out-of-the-way place.  Moreover, if Schaefer were involved in any way - and it now seemed likely that he was - he probably
told
them to be rough with me.

“Regardless,” Pace continued, “the warrant has not yet expired, so we are asking that you return him through the vortex and hand him over to the federal government.”

“I’m sorry, Jim,” Magnavolt said, “but it looks like you’ll have to go.”

“Wait a minute!” Adam shouted.  “Are you sure that thing’s valid?  That he’s authorized to do this?”

“It’s authorized,” Magnavolt replied.  “It’s signed by a federal judge.”

“So what?” Adam countered.  “Can any government official just pop up with a piece of paper and take a student?  What if a despot in Africa decided he wanted to get his hands on a super?  Could he just send someone with a warrant?  Or a dictator in the Middle East?  Would you just say ‘Sorry, Jim,’ and send him on his way?”

“Of course not!” Magnavolt nearly shouted.  “But this is from the
government
…”

I shut out the rest of what he was saying, thinking at a maddening pace.  Something Adam had said about foreign governments had given me an idea.  I looked over the warrant one more time, and then made my decision.

“I’m not going,” I said plainly, cutting off Magnavolt’s argument with Adam.  Stunned silence filled the room.

Suddenly, Pace smiled.  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.  We’ve got the authority to take you into custody
–
”

“Anywhere in the nation,” I finished for him.  “But the thing is, we’re somewhat out of the country at the moment.  In fact, we aren’t even on Earth as you know it.  You’re out of your jurisdiction.”

For the first time, Pace looked unsure of himself.  “Well, uh, that’s, uh, that’s an interesting proposition
–
”

“No, I’d say it’s true,” Adam interjected.  “Principal Magnavolt just said he wouldn’t just hand Jim over if a bureaucrat from some other nation just showed up with a piece of paper demanding him.  Why should he do it for you?”

“That’s true…” Magnavolt acknowledged softly.

For the first time since Pace had started talking, Schaefer’s expression changed; he looked at Adam like he wanted to murder him.

“Mr., uh”
–
Pace looked down at his cheat sheet again
–
“uh, Mouse.  My understanding is that you’re a very reasonable and intelligent person.  Please tell them they’re wrong on this.”