Bounders (5 page)

“Yeah, the art of being annoying,” I say. “You sound just like my sister. I can't wait to meet Edgar Han. Do you know he trains for ultramarathons while on duty by running in place in an equal-gravity chamber? And he's an accomplished photographer—there's some arts for you. He's the coolest aeronaut by a mile.”

“Yeah, right,” Lucy says. “Sheek's clearly the best, but I wouldn't mind being paired with Malaina Suarez. She has advanced degrees in Sustainability, Logic, and Military History, and I think she's the youngest female officer ever promoted to aeronaut. She may be kind of new, but she seems fierce.”

“Fierce?” Cole says. “Suarez is far from fierce. . . .” Cole launches into an endless monologue about every aeronaut who ever lived and their relative fierceness as determined by their rank in the bounding training protocol.

“I wonder if we'll be ranked,” I say. “How do they determine the pod assignments?”

“Is it random?” Cole asks. “Or do they assess personality and skills compatibility like they do with the aeronauts?”

“Florine said they based the assignments on the data they collected during our years of testing, to make sure each pod has well-rounded skill sets,” Lucy answers. “But she also said they're still finalizing things and may make changes after seeing how we mesh. They want to create the best balance within the pods.”

“What do you think the chance is we end up in the same pod?” I ask. “Pretty slim, right?”

“Maybe not,” Lucy says. “If they see we click, maybe they'll want to put the three of us together.”

“You want to be in our pod?” Cole asks.

Lucy shrugs, but I think that means yes.

“Why?” I ask.

“I figure you guys are pretty smart. After all, you grabbed the best seats on the craft.”

I look around at the other Bounders. Most kids are sitting quietly, staring at the info screens or gazing blankly out the windows. A boy in the next row rocks back and forth. His lips move without sound. At least a dozen kids pace through the aisles. A girl with short black hair huddles beneath a blanket she scared up from who knows where. Some kid I can't see hums really loudly. A big group of kids up front hover around Regis, and they all crack up at the same time. I spy Marco slipping into the hallway reserved for officers. Cole's right. He's trouble.

Lucy and Cole watch the others, too. I'm sure they're doing the same thing I am—gliding over each face, sizing everyone up, wondering who will be in their pods. I hope the officers are watching. I hope they see how well we get along. I really want to be in the same pod as Cole, and I'd even be fine with Lucy.

“I'd be okay with most of these dopes,” Lucy says, “as long as I'm not stuck with Dancing Queen.”

“Who?” Cole asks.

“Oh, you know, that batty girl at the aeroport. I'm shocked she even got through. One of the doctors told me tons of Bounder-bred kids are loony like that.”

There's obviously a lot I don't know about Bounders. In my mind, all I can see is the pale thin girl dancing through the crowd, her arms outstretched, her head lifted to the sun. And her mother's voice—
Mira! Mira!
—calling her back to Earth.

“Look! Snacks!” Lucy says.

Sure enough, two low-ranking Earth Force officers—plebes—push a large cart down the aisle. They dole out snacks to the Bounders. Their cart is full, but that won't last long. Regis and his crew pounce on the bounty.

“This is what stinks about these seats,” I say. “We get last pick at snacks.”

“Don't count on it.” Lucy slips out of her seat and skips off to the snack cart. I almost dash after her, when I notice a small figure clad in chain mail in Cole's hand.

“Whoa. What is that?” I ask. “The Crusades token?”

Cole nods. Every time you level up in
Evolution of Combat
, they send you a new figure with a scan key to open the next level on your tablet. The figure Cole holds is retired. The current Crusades token has a battle-ax, not a scimitar.

“Do you know why I think they retired him?” Cole says. “Scimitars weren't used in the Crusades. It's a sword that originated in Southwest Asia.”

“Why do you know that?” I ask. Cole stares at me with blank eyes. “Never mind.”

“Do you play?” Cole asks.

“
Evolution
? Yeah. Who doesn't?” I can't wrap my head around his retired token. “How long ago did you clear Crusades? I don't know anyone who has the scimitar.”

“Two years ago.”

Two years ago? How is that possible?
Evolution
just came out a couple of years ago. “What level are you now?”

“World War Two.”

“Yeah, right.” I probably should know Cole wouldn't lie about something like that. I don't think he brags. He just tells you how it is.

Cole stares at me, expressionless.

“Okay, so you're World War Two,” I continue. “Show me your figure.”

Cole reaches inside his Earth Force jacket and fishes something out of the interior pocket. He hands me a small figure dressed in green fatigues and a bucket helmet.

“Dude,” I say, “that's unbelievable. And I thought I was good. I've never met anyone who's even reached World War Two.”

“What level are you?”

“American Revolution.” I'm stunned. I've always been the best at
Evolution
. I suck at basically everything else remotely cool, but the kids at school come to
me
as the
Evolution
expert.

“That's pretty good,” Cole says. I can tell he's trying to be nice. “Do you think they'll let us play at the space station?”

“I'm not sure.” They're cutting us off from most media access, but maybe
Evolution
is outside the restrictions.

“Scootch.” Lucy stands in the aisle. She took off her Earth Force jacket and is using it as a sling to carry snacks. “Please don't tell me we're talking about that awful game.” She must have spotted Cole's figures. “I refuse to share these snacks until you put those things away. No
Evolution
. No exceptions.”

That's annoying, but I'm starved. And, honestly, I don't want to hear any more about how awesome Cole is at
Evolution
. I wave a hand at him, and he shoves his figures back into his pocket.

Lucy squeezes by me in a yellow T-shirt that says
PACIFIC PLAYERS DRAMA CLUB
on the front and
CAST
on the back in bright red letters. She dumps the snacks on the seats and crouches in the row to sort the loot.

Freeze-dried yogurt chunks, carob-coated fruit balls, veggie puffs, and an assortment of protein bars. I was hoping for something cool, a space station exclusive. No luck. Just the standard Americana fare. They must have stocked up at the aeroport.

That doesn't stop me from attacking the snacks. Cole and Lucy have to fight me for the last pack of fruit balls. And, yes, Lucy wins. After all, she was the one who sweet-talked the plebes into giving her a whole uniform full of snacks.

“THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN. WE ARE
disengaging FTL. We'll be arriving at the Earth Force Space Station in approximately twenty-three minutes. Return to your seats, and fasten your harnesses.”

“Later,” Lucy says as she climbs over the seat.

“What a relief,” Cole says. “She thinks she knows everything.”

I choke back a laugh. I guess it takes one to know one. “I like her. Although she really talks a lot.”

Cole mumbles something under his breath.

A loud boom shakes the craft. My body pulls against the harness again, just as it did after we cleared Earth's orbit. A few seconds pass, and I fall back against the seat like I was yanked down. Gravity? Stabilized.

Through the front windows, the space station is suspended like an enormous spider web, and we're the unlucky bug about to be caught. As we close in, I can see how truly huge the station is. There are at least fifty structures. Most of them look like gigantic metal shoe boxes, the size of futbol fields, all tipped at different angles. They're connected by metal tubes that twist through space like the wires and hoses that connect the parts inside a hover engine.

Small crafts take off and land from two dozen docks, some mounted on top of structures, some with interior launch sites. The top deck of the space station belongs to the quantum fleet. The sphere-shaped ships made of liquid metal stand in a line. Beyond them, space flickers and waves. I blink. I know it's the quantum field, but it feels like my eyes are playing tricks on me.

“I've received a message from the control tower,” the captain says over the intercom. “A quantum ship is bounding through in about thirty seconds. Keep your eyes focused on the quantum field, and you can watch.”

Cole and I loosen our harnesses and sit up on our knees so we can see out the front windows. The strange wavy space makes me lose focus, zone out. I blink hard and press my fingers on my temples to stay alert. Am I imagining things? No. The space bends outward like a balloon filling with air. Then . . .
pop!
The quantum ship pushes through the field. I can hardly believe that a second ago that ship was in a different galaxy.

The ship's liquid metal skin glistens with the light of a million rainbows as starlight and the floods from the space station dance across its surface. I've studied the technology behind bounding and the quantum ships, but it's hard to get my head around the physicality of the thing. It looks like a giant silver ball of water that should drop to the ground like rain and form a puddle on the bounding deck. Instead the liquid clings together in its spherical form. Inside, the atoms race around the sphere at FTL Plus, holding the structure together in some sort of Einsteined–up centrifugal force.

Spider Crawler robots surround the ship and bring up the occludium membrane to shield and stabilize the outer core. The boarding platform bridges the top of the ship, and one of the Crawlers peels back the hatch. Within seconds the aeronauts emerge. Five of them. All geared up in the silver aeronaut suit of Earth Force.

“Five,” Cole says. “A pod.”

“Yep.” I was thinking the same thing.

“Oh my goodness!” shouts a girl a few rows ahead. “That's Maximilian Sheek!”

An echo of screams follows.
Shrieks for Sheek.
I think that's the slogan. I should know. It's scrawled across the poster hanging above Addy's desk. I can't believe Earth Force lets him pose like that—muscles all flexed in his skintight aeronaut suit. He has a silly half grin and a big pouf of wavy brown hair. Addy always says I could do my hair like Sheek if I wanted. Right. Give me a razor, and I'd shave my head before I'd leave the house looking like Sheek. Good thing most of the other aeronauts seem decent and not all caught up in their celebrity. What will happen when the Bounders learn to pilot the ships? Will the people love us the way they've always loved the aeronauts?

A few rows ahead, a group of girls won't shut up about Sheek. I roll my eyes and whisper to Cole, “If this is gonna turn into a love fest for Sheek, I would have stayed back on Earth.” I scan the other aeronauts on the bounding deck. “Do you think that could be Han?”

Cole isn't paying attention. “Look,” he says, “someone else is coming out of the ship.”

A small hunched form hauls himself onto the boarding platform.

“That aeronaut's so short,” Lucy says from the row ahead. “Is he a kid? A Bounder?”

The aeronaut tips forward at an odd angle. “Nope,” I say, “that's a Tunneler.”

“I didn't know they could pilot the ships,” she says.

“That was the deal,” Cole says. “They gave us their occludium mining technology, and we taught them how to bound.”

We dip beneath the bounding deck, clear the space field, and coast into the hangar. At least four passenger crafts could fit within its walls. And the hangar is almost as high as it is wide. Something about it reminds me of the hospital where Mom works. Maybe it's because everything looks ultrasterile. The floor, ceiling, and walls are all painted grayish-green, the color of spearmint toothpaste. Rows of fluorescent lights cross the hangar's roof, throwing a glare across the cavernous space.

“Did you see that?” Cole whispers.

“What?”

“At the front of the hangar. There were at least a dozen active gun stations. And look, there's another dozen in here.”

Sure enough, manned gun stations line the perimeter of the hangar. “Up there, too.” I point to a gunner stationed at an upper post. “What's that all about?”

“I don't know,” Cole says. “I've never seen any reference to it.”

“Attention, puh-
leeeze
,” Florine says over the intercom once the hangar crew has signaled for the hatch opening. “We have arrived. Line up to leave the craft and follow the officers' instructions. The Earth Force induction ceremony will commence as soon as we are assembled. Admiral Eames will administer the officers' oath. Try to demonstrate some measure of military decorum.”

As we stand in line to leave the craft, Cole tells Lucy and me the history of the Earth Force induction ceremony. I tune him out. I'm not really capable of listening. Since we landed in the hangar, my heart's been beating so hard, my blood's pumping double time in my eardrums. We're just moments away from meeting Admiral Eames and taking the oath to serve as officers of Earth Force.

We follow the other kids off the craft. By the time we reach the ramp, most of the cadets are already lined up at the center of the hangar. The plebes usher us to our positions. At least three hundred officers stand at attention behind a podium placed five meters ahead of our group. Lieutenant Ridders stands behind the podium. His arm jerks in salute. “Admiral on deck.”