From the Desk of Col. Garrett Ross

Jaxun met Rory Pembroke in his fourth year at Clements, because the town near the Academy was tiny and it was bound to happen. In the orphanage Jaxun was always told that he reminded people of someone. It hadn’t done him any good, from age three when his mother took a nice little nosedive off the road somewhere on I-696 doing about a hundred and ten miles an hour. Neither the postmortem toxicology report nor mom’s nonexistent list of relatives did him any good.

As he came to find out over his seven years at the orphanage, his ability to look like somebody everybody knew didn’t help him either. The interested surrogate parents always said something along the lines of ‘doesn’t he look like that boy from down the street?’ and pass him by for a cuter or more studious-looking model.

His name was Jaxun. It was one of those new age style names that caused him no end of trouble. Most of the time, he signed Jackson, because people knew that one. It failed to draw any unwarranted attention. As a counterpoint to his strange name, in all other ways, Jaxun was completely unassuming. He stood about five ten or so, not thin but not fat, nor was he overly well muscled. He could pass as handsome if he tried, but didn’t, and so instead looked utterly average. His skin tone had a tint of darkness to it, from a mutt heritage somewhere in the genealogical past. He dressed in muted tones, without flashy fashion.

He had no trouble passing through a crowd.

He was on his Weekend Pass and spending his two-dollar coins on the arcade games, when it happened. It had to, eventually. He looked up and everyone stopped: he, Rory, and Rory’s three friends. They stared at this strange kid, and he stared back at them.

Holy shit dude, a boy next to Rory finally said. He was a chubby one with freckles and too much carrot-colored, straw-textured hair.

When we were joking about the clone thing, that was just a joke. I mean, nobody really gets cloned except over in India and Asia, right?

Rory, who was more or less an exact replica of Jaxun, looked at his friends in disbelief. After a while his mouth began to work open and closed as a grand selection of words was gone over and dismissed as not being good enough. Jaxun had done it for him, with a broad smile.

Hey brother, he said, and strode forward to grasp Rory by the hand.

A half hour later they were in an abandoned part of the mall, breaking bottles together. It turned out Rory had a pretty poor choice of friends, which included Everett (the carrot-boy), a nothing kid named Steve, and a heavyset girl named Trisha. Everett didn’t even want to go into the closed down part of the mall, and absolutely wouldn’t touch a single of the empty beer bottles they found, so Jaxun wrote him off. Steve and Trisha, on the other hand, were up for breaking anything they could, including leftover mannequins and a rack of hangers from ages ago. They were punting the bald, female mannequin head around when Rory turned to Jaxun.

How come I haven’t seen you out before?

First Weekend Pass, Jaxun said, with a shrug. The school had just instituted the Weekend Pass program with the understanding that other schoolchildren couldn’t know about the Academy, nor could any of the parents. There were also officers floating around everywhere, watching them just in case the townspeople tried to do anything stupid.

What the hell’s Weekend Pass?

Uh… Jaxun faltered. It would still be two years before he took classes covering Fake Identities and Casual Conversation/Improvisation techniques for setting up assets in the field. Still, he had orders. Well, we go to school all the time. The headmaster guys decided we could head into town a couple of times a month.

You go to school every day?

Go? No, we sleep there.

Man, Everett said. He was sulking, from having to be in this place. He was clearly reluctant to do anything that could get him in trouble. That would suck, like hard.

Eww, Steve bristled, and gave the mannequin head a punt to show how disgusting the idea was. The head smashed into the ceiling and busted out one of the few remaining light bulbs. Trisha, Jaxun and his twin gave it a laugh.

What’s the hours like at your school? Jaxun asked.

Nine to four, with an hour for lunch, Rory said. He didn’t say much, but Jaxun didn’t mind. He was probably seriously freaked out from meeting a kid who could have been his twin.

Two days later

Jaxun wiped the mud from his face, snarled and leapt to his feet. His entire front was plastered with the stuff, frigid and wet. A steady rain was falling, pelting them with cold, late March rain that was a few degrees away from sleet.

Get a fucking move on, girls! Officers were shouting at them, at him. He wouldn’t notice the officers normally. On any other day he could tune them out, stare ahead at the other bodies and get sucked into the rhythmic bob of heads and shoulders as they moved along the New Hampshire landscape in a long procession. And, by all accounts, it ought to have been a normal morning of Core.

Only Jaxun couldn’t get the image of Rory out of his head. It wasn’t even that difficult to imagine the kid, since they looked the same. He’d seen the other boy’s house. He could see him now, at six in the morning, sleeping in. His mother would make him bacon and eggs and pancakes with syrup and call him, probably hug him or something equally disgustingly sappy when he finally wandered downstairs, exhausted. He’d head to school, if it were a weekday, where he’d prop himself in front of his locker and pull out his unfinished homework. Then, dealing with the types of things Jaxun had finished up two semesters ago, he might struggle to get it finished before the first bell rang.

The last half-mile of the Core course was like walking over shards of glass and razor wire. Not that it hurt his feet at all, but that it stung his mind and enveloped him in a miasma of jealousy. Later that day, he shredded his targets on the assault rifle range, and tagged six other kids in his paintball, urban combat class.

Two weeks later

Rory and Jaxun were walking along a little patch of woods off the highway, throwing rocks at the signposts whenever they happened to come upon one. Jaxun already had a pocketful of rocks waiting for the next mile marker.

I don’t know what you’re pissing and whining about, Rory said.

Um, it might be the four hours of homework a night.

You get to shoot stuff. And throw people all over the place. You’re seriously turning into, like, an agent or something. Maybe Corp. security. That would be fucking sweet.

Jaxun was about to say something, but stopped himself from doing so. He hadn’t thought about Clements like that. For all he knew, it was just a really tough private school. He hadn’t had any friends back at the orphanage. They had either kept their distance, or been sucked away by the adopting parents. For all he knew, all private schools were like this, and public schools were like an eight year cruise through a tropical land, where everybody served you umbrella drinks, and the rest of your cruise mates were either total weaklings, utter slackers or complete retards.

It’s no holiday, he said quietly. Something wiggled in his mind, and he realized there was a cocoon of an idea, getting ready to hatch into a plan somewhere in his brain, sometime in the future. He wasn’t the type of kid to pop a pimple before its time, though, because that always led to unnecessary messes and scarring.

Dude, Rory said, high school is probably the most hellish thing I’ve ever been through, and I’m not even a quarter of the way finished. Do you even have shaving cream at the Academy?

What would you do with shaving cream?

How about fill peoples’ lockers with it, and ruin their textbooks and notebooks and whatever. Even worse in a gym locker.

It didn’t sound anything like a winter run through Core, with knee deep snow when you only had a sweatshirt and sweatpants on, being cursed and yelled at the whole time by officers who just wanted to get the hell inside, regardless of the fact that they were wearing coats, gloves, and winter hats. And you weren’t wearing any of those.

Swirlies too, Rory said. Bet you don’t have swirlies.

Two months later

No no no, Jaxun said, and helped Rory up off the ground. You gotta block those, man. Chop block, that’s definitely time for the chop block.

Try letting me know when you’re gonna hit me, Rory heaved.

Jaxun knew he wasn’t a patient kid. He wanted to get the plan moving, but shoved down the impetus to blurt out the whole thing and instead took up his Tae Kwon Do stance. With that, he motioned for the four of them to attack. They should have been way better than this, since they’d started practicing at a local mixed martial arts dojo. Still, maybe the Core and the four years on the mat prepared him better.

This time it was Steve who got in a jab at his kidney while he was busy deflecting Everett’s sloppy blows. Trisha was by far the best. She had taken right to it, and thinned right out with daily runs. Jaxun reminded himself to have Rory go running with her every day.

He aimed a shot at Steve’s solar plexis, and connected before ducking Trisha’s front kick. A turn of the hips, and he swept her off her feet by spinning. He came up facing Rory, and found a foot plowing straight for his chest.

He smiled as he staggered backwards after deflecting the blow. Maybe the four of them were getting better. Everett was still a lost cause with his frequent excuses to get out of going to practices, but the other three had a bit of promise.

Rory’s mom came out with some milk and cookies afterwards, and congratulated them on their practice. She noted that they were so motivated, and warned them that, no, she wouldn’t allow any of them near guns in case they were going to shoot up the high school. Then, after the bloodless look on Everett’s face and a couple of jokes, she disappeared.

You gotta head back soon, don’t you?

Jaxun nodded. Six o’clock on Sundays. He’d stayed in the youth hostel with two or three of the other kids last night. Staying away from school was like a vacation in and of itself. Most of the other kids had no idea what they were doing, sitting at school all weekend and just doing homework.

That sucks dude.

It isn’t terrible. I got homework to do anyway, and there’s a movie showing. I can head there tonight. Besides, we got cake at the Mess every Sunday night.

Steve snorted, Mess. Nice.

Alright, Rory said. When we see your guy, I want to try something. Don’t say anything.

They walked him back toward the youth hostel. Just outside Rory’s house, Janovek fell in step beside him. He was a slightly older man, early to mid twenties, an Officer who worked at Clements. It was his job to keep track of Jaxun at all times, and had since Jaxun had started heading off campus on Weekend Pass. It had been going on for six months now, so Janovek didn’t follow him around like a Siamese twin anymore. Rory and the other three were more or less used to him by now, though Jaxun was sure they were still spooked by the rich-kid-with-an-out-of-school-bodyguard cover story he’d given them.

Hey Janovek, Rory said. Jaxun looked at him and grinned.

Janovek just nodded. Jaxun. How was the sparring session?

The five of them looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Two weeks later

What are you talking about? Why not? Jaxun said.

It’s only a temporary measure, Reynolds, William Jennings said. He called everybody by their last names.

Jaxun didn’t understand, really, and didn’t want to. What he understood was that the adults were crushing his fun, and killing his ambition, and worse: they were teaming up on him. He’d read about cornered animals before, and didn’t understand it until that very moment when his stomach boiled up some bile and locked his throat up.

You have to understand, son, Colonel Ross said. A lot of students use the Weekend Pass to get away from the school, to get away from their responsibilities and homework.

We’ve had a lot of broken rules on Weekend Pass, Jennings said.

Garrett Ross was a tall, imposing man. He was nothing but corded muscle under his military uniform, which looked to be just a little too tight on purpose. It looked like he probably tore Clements failures apart, maybe for sport, maybe for exercise. Jaxun couldn’t look him in the face at first, but got up the courage once they really started tag-teaming. His initial feeling that Colonel Ross had dreamed up Core in between eating several students for breakfast and lunch evaporated. Ross might have a square face, and strong jaw, but the expression on his face and the softness of his eyes matched his tone of voice. It lent Jaxun a little power to speak.

I haven’t…I mean, the rules, I’ve been careful, Jaxun said.

We know you have, Jennings said, and looked at Ross.

It’s just temporary, Ross said. A few months at most. We’ll deal with the rule breakers and tune up the program a little. We just didn’t want you to feel like it was anything you’d done wrong.

Two Hours Later

Kilborne told me you were the person to talk to, Jaxun said.

Oh did she? The boy was Benjamin Wallace, or Wally. At least, it ought to have been him. Cassie Kilborne was a strange one, at very least, like one of those kids who looked more at home mixing up blasting compounds or looking down the barrel of a sniper rifle, than actually talking.

She did.

And you believe her? Wally said. Kilborne’s a bit of a…you know. I mean, good kid and all, but you know. Wally was a big seventh year kid, strong and confident with a full cache of lazy looks and carefree smiles. It looked to Jaxun like Wally losing his arms and legs in some sort of freak battle exercise accident wouldn’t faze him, because he could just float if he wanted to. Of course, he didn’t need to float, which was a testament to just how cool he was.

She said you got past your officer whenever you went out on Weekend Pass. Like you’re some sort of conman or something.

Wally smiled. I guess I did. I don’t know about conman though. That sounds like a pretty negative word. What I do is a bit more like acting.

I don’t care what you do, Jaxun said. Long as I can ask a favor of you.

Favors cost, boss.

I can pay. Anyway it’s just a letter. Problem is, Ross and Jennings talked to me about canceling Weekend Pass.

Maybe for fifth years, Wally said. He was a sixth year, the jerk. Jennings won’t stop me. Can’t stop me.

Two Days Later

Rory looked up at the big kid with the goofy grin on his face. A few other kids were with him that Rory recognized from high school. One was named Chip, and they were responsible for a lot of Rory’s experiences with kissing public school toilets. They had been responsible for that sort of thing since he was in second grade.

The kid in the center wasn’t one he recognized though. Wally’s smile vanished, and he looked around as though death was on his heels.

Message for you, Wally said gravely. Over there.

They walked over to a deserted part of the high school gym together. Chip and company just laughed as they walked away. Chip and the guys turned back to the girl’s basketball game. For as many people as there always were at these sorts of things, finding an out-of-the-way place wasn’t difficult. The high school was full of twists and cul-de-sacs that assholes like Chip knew exactly how to exploit.

They better not touch my friends, Rory said.

They won’t, Wally said. They did before?

Oh yeah, all the time. What is it?

Spunky one, Wally said, I like that. I’m just the messenger, kid. I don’t have anything with you. Jaxun told me to tell you: plan’s still on. Keep to the plan. You been keeping with it?

Rory nodded. His heart started racing.

Good. Jaxun’s been taken off Weekend Pass for now. Doesn’t matter. He says don’t forget the plan, and he’s not giving up. I assume you know what he’s talking about.

Rory nodded.

Good. Enjoy your girlfriend. I’ll make sure the boys won’t be a problem for you anymore.

Two days later there was a clip in the newspaper about Chip, Brad and James. All three were dead, after having driven their car into the Androscoggin Lake after drinking several beers each. They had smacked into the lake, doing about a hundred and forty kilometers per hour. Had Rory seen it, the next two months would have been very different.

Two Months Later

It’s time, Jaxun said.

Now? Everett asked. He was sweating, terrified. This would require the most balls of anything he’d ever done.

Now. Go!

There was a shout, and the five of them began running through the mall. Trisha immediately peeled right, and headed into a Gap store, while Steve and Everett went left for the SONY World store. Jaxun and Rory headed off toward the arcade.

It didn’t take long at all before the security guards were on to them, but Steve and Trisha were up to the task. Everett immediately gave up and put his hands in the air. That was part of the plan anyway, whether Everett knew it or not. That kept at least one security guard occupied.

Trisha gave a deathly shriek and ran back out of Gap into the mall proper, trailing several security guys. She crossed paths with Steve, and actually got two of the guards to knock into each other. Awesome! Steve vaulted for the fire alarm, and crushed it downwards.

There it is, Jaxun breathed. Rory was a little winded, or maybe just excited. They barreled into the picture booth together, and emerged at a run twenty seconds after that. Triumph painted both of their faces.

I don’t think it’s going to work.

It’s totally going to work, Jaxun said.

Two heartbeats later

Jaxun! Janovek shouted, charging into the arcade full speed. Damnit Jaxun, you get back here! The curtain fluttered behind the two boys as they rocketed out of the photo booth. Janovek followed the one he thought was Jaxun.

It was done.

Two Minutes Later

What in the hell did you think you were doing back there?

What an officer thing to say.

They revoked you once, and I have this feeling like they’re going to do it again, Janovek said. I just don’t understand it. You’ve been so good, it doesn’t make any sense.

Rory just looked at him and couldn’t keep from grinning.

Yeah, you smile. Go ahead. All of this is going into my report to Jennings. You’ll be lucky if you see outside the school walls for the rest of your life.

Rory could hardly contain himself the entire ride back on the shuttle. Everything about this plan excited him. The bus was exciting in and of itself. It was a bus built for transporting kids who were being trained as killing machines, run by people who had to be completely out of their minds. Rory didn’t know how anybody could contain this much potential for chaotic violence. The walls of the school were topped with razor wire, meant to keep inquiring minds out and adventurous souls in. The fifteen year old, now nearing his sixteenth birthday, with possibly the coolest birthday present on the face of the planet, rolled up to the gates of the Clements Academy and passed through.

It was exotic and amazing, to pass through the signboard which read ‘Clements Academy for Gifted Young People.’ In smaller letters beneath this proclaimed ‘An outreach program designed to provide underprivileged children the skills they need to survive the world.’

Drab concrete buildings spattered with ambitious ivy plants came into view. At the center of the parade field, the flag of the United States of America flew, still with fifty stars even, though fifty was no longer the number of states in the union. Across the Parade Field, kids kicked around a soccer ball, sat and read books, or threw frisbees around.

Doesn’t look so bad, he muttered.

It’s going to get a lot worse for you, Janovek chuckled. Keep up the attitude.

Rory had a little trouble that day, and not because any of the higher ups at the school came to talk to him either. First, he couldn’t find his room. It wasn’t warm anymore, and he got pretty cold just walking around the campus. None of the other children seemed to have any huge problems with it, though.

What’s up, Jaxun? someone said.

Rory turned. Uh…oh, hi, he said.

A kid walked up to him, another fifth year by the looks of him. He had a mess of blond hair sticking up every which way, and eyes so blue they seemed to have electric current running through them.

You’re back off Weekend Pass early. Thought maybe you’d like to come back and hang out with the losers at school?

What?

Don’t try bullshitting me, man. We know you think you’re too cool for us. But, whenever you think you’d like to come back down to earth, we’ve got a field exercise in a couple of days. If you don’t want us getting our asses handed to us like last time, maybe we should work together. Not like last time.

Uh, yeah. Yeah, absolutely.

The kid’s eyes narrowed. Something wrong with you?

I need your help. Is there someplace we can talk?

The other kid laughed. Yeah, you’re fucking with me right?

No, seriously, Jaxun didn’t tell you about the plan, did he?

Referring to yourself in third person now, huh?

Fuck, Rory breathed. He looked around for anybody who looked to be about Janovek’s age. He definitely didn’t want to blow it yet. Okay, here, I’m not Jaxun.

Let me guess: you were abducted by aliens and they put some sort of other consciousness into your body. Complete with anal probe.

What?

Quit fuckin around. See you tomorrow.

No! No! Rory said, and ran to catch up with him. I’m not fucking around. I don’t even know which building is my dorm. I don’t know your name. I don’t know anything about the school except what Jaxun told me. My name’s Rory, and I’m from Liberty.

You’re a townie, the kid said, without missing a stride, and now the disbelief had a crack in it.

Yeah. Anyway why would I lie?

Cuz you’re an asshole.

Jaxun’s an asshole, maybe, but not me.

Bullshit.

How can I convince you I’m me and not him?

You’re at Liberty High, right?

Yeah.

Tell me the names of your teachers.

I have Mrs. Wasowski for English 10-2, first hour. Then I have Bratovich for math. Greenwald for World History, which is kind of a joke. Ms. Grace in Drawing and Painting. You want me to go on?

The kid leveled his impossibly blue eyes on Rory and grinned. He also shook his head. Alright, you got me convinced. Assuming you didn’t beat up a townie for that useless information, and you still have no reason to keep the joke up, then you’re not him, and you’re fucked. You’re in such deep shit then, townie. Let’s get you to your room, and get you up to speed.

As they walked, the kid started teaching. "This is how your day goes: you wake up at five thirty, shower, dress, and get out to the Parade Field for Core by six. Core lasts two hours. You’re a minute late and you’re in deep shit. Don’t be late.

Breakfast after Core. Then we have classes starting at 9. I don’t know what your schedule is, but hopefully Jaxun left something for you. If he didn’t…anyway that doesn’t matter. Lunch at one, and back to classes at two. Generally you’re done by four, but sometimes you’ve got field exercises, or martial arts practice or special programs or something. Anyway, dinner’s around six or seven, whenever you’re finished with classes for the day, and if you have enough time to eat. Homework after that. Lot of kids do their homework while they eat dinner.

Rory felt a hot rock settle in the pit of his stomach.

Now, you need to meet the squad and get a look at your room.

Jaxun’s room looked like a prison cell. The bedcovers were drab grey-green, as was the footlocker at the base of it. A closet space took up an entire wall, and there was a desk in the corner opposite the bathroom. It was way smaller than his bedroom back home, but he had to reconcile it against the feeling of no parents. That was pretty sweet.

There’s your curriculum books, the kid said. You’ll probably want to catch up on the past five years of what you’ve missed. There’s an olive green box in the bottom desk drawer. It’s magnetically sealed. There’s a handgun inside. If you really want to know how to open it…

"There’s a what?"

A handgun. Loaded with hollow point bullets and an external Smart weapon attachment. Anyway if you want it opened up, I’d talk to Galen Tripp in the seventh year building. I have no idea why it’s there in the first place.

Ah…alright.

Jaxun probably left you his homework, too. Best get on that while you have today and tomorrow to figure out what the hell he was up to. I’ll go round up the rest of the squad and we’ll have a few introductions.

Rory felt like he had just been shipped over to a place like Tajikistan, where nobody spoke his language, he had no idea what was going on, no money with which to buy what he needed, and no idea where to buy even the basics. He sat down at the desk and put his head in his hands. A few minutes immediately following, he headed to the bathroom to throw up.

Rory’s new squadmates were Michaelson (or Son of Michael, as he was called), a girl named Ivy (which was apparently good enough to stay her name), another girl named Sandy (but who refused to answer to the nickname Arc), and the original kid he’d spoken to. His name turned out to be the best of all: his was Stefan Sextus Morenard-Waybright. He went by the moniker SS.

And what’d you guys call Jaxun?

Arc looked at him like he had a third and fourth ear poking out of his cheeks, snorted, and left the room. Son of Michael smiled with his arms folded over his chest, but said nothing.

Just Jaxun, SS said.

That’s not fun.

Jaxun was a dick, like I told you.

But we have hope for you, Ivy said. Just survive the first month.

Oh, don’t worry about that, Rory said. Jaxun and I had a deal. We were only going to do this arrangement for about a month, until the next Weekend Pass.

Another snort, this time from the hallway. Apparently Arc was still out there.

Anyway, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do. We should leave you to it.

The rest of them left, but Ivy stayed. She stayed propped up against his desk, looking down at him like he was a whole seashell, washed ashore where all the others were just crumbled shards.

Why do you guys call her Arc?