Vanguard Prime Book 1 Page 3

  ‘Thanks.’ I notice the sound of muffled music coming from across the hall. ‘What’s through there?’

  ‘That’s Machina’s room. She has about twenty minutes before her next round of training starts, which means that nine-and-a-half times out of ten she’ll be in there. Would you like to meet her?’

  ‘Oh, um, sure. I guess. If it’s no trouble.’

  ‘No trouble at all.’

  The Major walks over and knocks on the door. ‘Samantha? Samantha, it’s Major Blackthorne! Could you open up? Our new recruit has arrived and I’d like you to meet him.’

  There’s the sound of something tumbling around inside before the door flies open with an explosion of thrash metal at full volume and a blonde-haired girl about two years older than me steps out. She looks me up and down, wrinkles her nose, then turns to look at the Major.

  ‘Samantha Sainsbury, I’d like you to meet Sam Lee, otherwise known as Goldrush,’ says the Major.

  ‘That’s funny!’ I say. ‘Two Sams on the same team!’

  ‘I prefer Machina.’

  She glances at me just long enough to deliver this in a posh British accent, before looking back at the Major. ‘And I thought we weren’t supposed to give out our real names.’

  She’s dressed in a costume like mine, only with purple lines patterned like a circuit board in place of the gold flashes. Her gauntlets are also purple, and unlike me she has a metal utility belt.

  ‘I think you’ll remember that secret identities don’t extend to other members of Vanguard Prime, Samantha,’ the Major says.

  ‘Whatever,’ Machina replies, before stepping past us and sauntering off down the hall, leaving us standing there.

  ‘Guess she won’t be friending me online anytime soon, huh?’ I say, and thankfully the Major laughs.

  We turn back to my door and the Major puts her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you to get settled on your own …’

  ‘The briefing that Gaia and Agent Alpha were talking about?’ I ask.

  ‘That’s the one,’ she says. ‘Maybe you can unpack your stuff, watch some TV, relax a little. If you’re hungry, the cafeteria is on the third level on the starboard side. Just type it into your gauntlet and directions will come up in your visor. You can always request a meal be delivered to your room, but it’s good to mix and meet people.’

  ‘Third level, starboard side. Got it,’ I say, knowing there’s absolutely no chance of me going for dinner there if I can just eat in my room and avoid everybody. ‘But … I mean … if I’m a member of Vanguard Prime now, shouldn’t I be coming to the briefing?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s a briefing for the founding members, Sam. I’ll make sure to swing by afterwards and see how you’re doing. Oh! I almost forgot …’ She unclasps the folder she has in her hand and takes out a thick, black, spiral-bound book. The word ‘CLASSIFIED’ is stamped in red on the cover.

  ‘What’s this?’ I ask as she passes it to me.

  ‘This is your cover story. Or should I say cover stories,’ she says. ‘Obviously, the events that happened at the sports field have been classified, which has necessitated us coming up with two … well … let’s call them “alternative histories”. One for Sam Lee, and one for Goldrush.’

  ‘Alternative histories?’ I repeat, flipping through the heavy book.

  ‘A full detailing of the private military school that you’ve told everyone you’re attending, including class notes, campus details, characteristics of the faculty and anecdotes about new friends. You’re free to adapt things to a certain degree to better accommodate your personality, but make sure you let us know of any changes.’

  ‘Uh … okay.’

  ‘The second section of the file is the official story for Goldrush. This is the one that’ll be released to the media, and you’ll get a lot of questions from reporters about it so you’ll need to memorise it. There’s a wide selection of pre-approved sound bites – both autobiographical details and simple things to say that will help to create an image for you. We’ll be doing pop quizzes over the next few weeks, so make sure to study.’

  ‘I’m the son of a dead General? And I was raised in an orphanage?’ I say, flicking through the Goldrush chapters. ‘And I saved all the other orphans from a fire?’

  ‘We won’t go into the details now,’ the Major says with a wave of her hand, like she’s trying to perform a Jedi mind trick on me. ‘But trust us, we’re in the business of creating superheroes. We know what we’re doing.’

  That last line, the one about creating superheroes, strikes me in the gut for some reason.

  ‘Um … okay,’ is all I can manage.

  ‘See you later, Sam.’ And with a smile she’s gone.

  I turn and look at my bedroom. All the furniture, including the bed, desk and drawers, is bolted to the floor. There’s a tiny ensuite where the toilet seat swings out of a hidden compartment so that the same space can be used for showering. I throw the binder full of stories about my fictional double life on the desk, sit down on the bed and stare out the window to think about my actual double life. Only there’s nothing outside to stare at but an endless expanse of ocean.

  And then I realise what’s bothering me most – there are about seven thousand people all around me and giant engines powering the massive warship that we’re all stuck on together, and yet I don’t hear a single thing …

  Situation Chamber, The Round Table

  ‘Please don’t misconstrue what I’m saying; he seems like a very nice kid, and of course we’ll make every effort to make him feel comfortable and a part of the team, but the plain fact of the matter is he’s too young to serve.’ Agent Alpha leans forward, speaking passionately.

  Gaia, sitting on his left and now dressed in her full uniform, nods. The seat on Agent Alpha’s right is empty.

  ‘He’s only a year younger than Machina was when she came aboard,’ the Major replies, sitting directly across the table with her military jacket buttoned to the collar.

  ‘And I think you’ll remember we had objections then as well,’ Agent Alpha says. ‘If we put our lives in danger, that’s our choice, but this is no place for a child.’

  ‘Look, I don’t like it any more than you do. But with what he’s displayed as far as power potential is concerned, it would be even more irresponsible of us to leave him to run around unchecked.’

  ‘So it’s a choice between underage military service or leaving him to his own devices? There’s no third option?’ Gaia asks.

  ‘You have to understand that these are a highly unique set of circumstances. We have someone only a few short years off being a legal adult who is walking around with the power of a hydrogen bomb flowing through his veins. We want to help him, as much for his safety as our own. Shielding him for the rest of his life in a lead-lined lab is the surest way to see him grow up to be maladjusted, unprepared for reality and harbouring a deep, deep sense of resentment towards the people who put him there.’

  ‘Which means the only solution is to stick him in a costume and send him out to fight people whose powers, experience and sheer bloodthirstiness are beyond anything he could conceive?’ Agent Alpha says calmly, his clenched jaw betraying him.

  ‘No, Michael. As we’ve done with Machina, we’ll pick and choose what missions he’s sent on, until he’s at a point where we’re all confident that he can handle himself. Until then, he gets the chance to develop his abilities and his understanding of them surrounded by the strongest representatives of heroism humanity can offer.’

  Agent Alpha lets out a sigh, threading his fingers together in front of his face, his elbows heavy on the table. ‘I’m sorry, Dominique. I know we’ve had this conversation more than once. The simple fact of the matter is that it’s troubling. Should anything ever happen to either him or Samantha …’

  ‘It won’t.’

  ‘Should anything ever happen,’ he continues, ‘I don’t know how we could live with ourselves, knowing that
we put in motion the events that led to it.’ He looks at the Major with solemn eyes. ‘And, even worse, if either of them should turn out to be like Adam …’

  ‘Trust me, Michael. We know what we’re doing.’

  The door slides open with the sound of a whispering wind, and a man shrouded in a cloak and hood appears.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. There was a situation in Bolivia.’

  The Knight of Wands takes the empty chair next to the Agent, his expression inscrutable behind his black visor.

  ‘What did I miss?’ he asks.

  ‘We were just having another argument about the age of our newest inductees,’ Gaia says. ‘I think Dom was winning, but Michael was holding his own.’

  ‘Was I winning?’ Major Blackthorne sighs. ‘It hardly feels like it.’

  ‘What’s Cronus’s status?’ the Knight asks.

  ‘Preparations are nearly done. He should be here by the end of the week at the latest.’

  ‘And how long until the Box is ready?’

  ‘Another few weeks. The electrical engineers are going through it now, double-checking everything.’

  ‘Five years and over a billion dollars,’ the Knight says. ‘The sooner that place is finished, the easier I’ll sleep.’

  ‘And here I didn’t think you ever slept,’ says Gaia.

  The Knight offers a small smirk in response.

  ‘What was the situation in Bolivia?’ the Major asks.

  The Knight glances in her direction. ‘The Major Arcana has been funding a cartel there and making a tidy profit as a result. I took the liberty of putting it out of commission.’

  ‘Strange pastime for someone who said he was focusing less on the Arcana these days,’ Gaia says.

  ‘I’ve been … re-thinking that approach,’ replies the Knight curtly.

  ‘On another matter, did my team and I get clearance for the flight to Geneva tomorrow?’ Agent Alpha says, turning to the Major.

  ‘The flight’s a go,’ the Major nods. ‘Just try not to blow up the planet, okay?’

  ‘CERN?’ the Knight asks, referring to the European Organisation for Nuclear Research.

  ‘We’re going to conduct some experiments with them. I’ll be absorbing antimatter energy from the Supercollider and rechannelling it.’

  The Knight turns to the Major. ‘How was Goldrush’s first day?’ he asks.

  The Major blinks at his familiarity with the new recruit’s name.

  ‘He seems to be acclimatising well, but it always takes time. Smart kid. Good sense of humour.’

  ‘I hope he’s not in over his head.’

  ‘That’s what I was saying,’ Agent Alpha remarks. ‘More or less.’

  ‘It’s hard being a stranger in a new place,’ Gaia says. ‘But he’ll be okay. It’ll just take time. I’ve got a good feeling about him.’

  The first thing I decide to do in my new room is change my clothes. Or at least, that’s what I try to do. But my costume is so difficult to take off that I give up after about fifteen minutes and settle for pulling my visor up onto my forehead and unpacking my bags.

  Ordinarily I wouldn’t bother with unpacking so soon, but it’s not like there’s much else to do. I’m not really in the mood to read up on all the lies I’ll be having to tell about who I am, and when I try using my laptop to go online I find the network is password protected and I don’t have a username.

  Finally, when I decide to call my parents, I discover that the phone doesn’t have a dial-pad.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ a military voice says from the other end of the line. ‘How can I help you, sir?’

  ‘Oh, um, nothing. Thanks!’ I say, hanging up.

  The sun has well and truly set behind the glistening horizon by the time there’s a knock on my door. At first I think it’s the Major returning to see how I’m doing and to possibly explain to me how I’m going to sleep in my new costume, but when I open the door I’m greeted by Machina’s unreadable expression.

  ‘Hello,’ she says.

  ‘Uh, hi,’ I say, more than a little surprised.

  ‘I just wanted to apologise for earlier. I wasn’t in the best of moods.’

  ‘No problem,’ I reply. ‘We’ve all been there.’

  ‘So, what’re you up to?’ she asks, walking past me into my room.

  ‘I … uh … not much. Just unpacking.’

  She looks from left to right as if assessing the place, despite there being not much to assess.

  ‘They put one of these together for you too, huh?’ she asks, picking up the black book. The words ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ leap out at me and I suddenly wonder if I’m supposed to keep even the team from seeing it.

  ‘Uh … yeah,’ I reply, taking it from her. ‘I haven’t really started memorising it yet or anything.’

  ‘First press conference I had I just told the truth. That way there were no confusing back stories to keep straight in my head.’

  ‘But didn’t that put your parents at risk?’ I ask.

  ‘They can look after themselves. Always have. It’s why I’m here in Vanguard Prime. When my powers first manifested, I got an offer to join the Institute,’ she says, referring to the government-sponsored UK super team. ‘But my father works for the Allied Nations, and he knew that having a daughter in a high-profile position would impress the superiors. So here I am – my father’s pawn.’

  ‘That’s really how you feel?’ I ask.

  Machina hesitates, then shrugs. ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘So neither of us is here by choice,’ I murmur.

  Machina raises an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t say that. My parents’ … indifference may be an issue, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to use my abilities for a worthwhile cause. You don’t want to be a superhero?’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong!’ I say. ‘I see the honour in it, and I definitely see how cool it is. I just … I don’t want to hurt anyone.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ She frowns and I realise I’ve said too much.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say quickly. I gesture towards my laptop, hoping to distract her. ‘Um … hey … I don’t suppose you know who I can ask about getting online, do you? I don’t have a username or a password.’

  ‘I can help you with that,’ she says, focusing on the computer. Her blue eyes start to glow this weird electric purple, and my laptop springs to life without anyone touching it, scrolling through screens at a blinding speed. The display goes black, flashes like it’s having a seizure, then reverts to its normal appearance. My web browser blinks up and loads the login page for my email.

  ‘You’re now free to surf the web as you please,’ Machina says with a cocky smirk. Her eyes are back to normal.

  ‘How’d you do that?’ I say, touching the laptop to see if it’s so hot that it’s about to explode into a thousand pieces. It feels completely normal and responds to my tentative typing like it isn’t possessed by some kind of horrible electronic poltergeist.

  ‘You don’t know?’ Machina asks, as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. ‘I’m a technopath.’

  ‘What, is that like a psychological condition or something?’ I ask, confused.

  ‘No, it means I have telepathic control over technology. I can control electrical signals so that anything with even a basic level of programming does what I want it to do. Watch …’

  She takes my MP3 player, which is hooked up to my laptop to recharge, and her eyes turn that weird electric purple again.

  Without a single button being pushed, the MP3 player springs to life and displays the load screen. At the same time, my left gauntlet powers up and a progress bar rapidly advances from ‘0%’ to ‘Download Complete’.

  ‘There. I’ve just synched your MP3 player to the hard drive in your gauntlet. You can now listen to all your music through your sub-vox earphones.’

  ‘Wow,’ I say. ‘Thanks! So does this make you, like, the team’s tech support?’

  I meant it as a joke, but she glares at me like I’ve just asked what her mot
her does when she’s not busy poisoning cats.

  ‘I’m a very important member of the team.’

  ‘Oh. Well. No offence or anything, but I haven’t seen you much on the news.’

  ‘Because I’m usually wearing my armour!’

  ‘Your armour? Oh, wait, hang on! Are you that purple robot thing that I sometimes see fighting alongside the others?’

  ‘That would be me in my nanotech armour, yes.’

  ‘Nanotech armour?’ I repeat.

  ‘Billions of microscopic robots that work in unison and can take on the configuration of any type of machine I think of. They were experimental prototypes that Major Blackthorne gave me. What takes engineers and technicians a decade to design and implement takes me a single thought.’ She says the last part proudly.

  ‘So how come I’ve only ever really seen news footage of you doing all the clean-up stuff after the battle’s happened?’

  I swear it’s a question that’s meant to be a lot less insulting than how it comes out. Machina doesn’t answer at first. Instead, she looks at me like she’s about five seconds away from slapping me across the face. I’m about two seconds away from doing it myself, if only to shut myself up.

  ‘So what are you saying? That I can’t hold my own? That I’m not really a part of the team?’ Her voice is low and sharp and full of barely restrained violence.

  ‘I think I might have … said that wrong. Why don’t we just stop, rewind and start aga–’

  I haven’t even gotten the full sentence out of my mouth before she’s grabbed me by the wrist to drag me down the hall.

  ‘Hey! What are you doing?’

  ‘Just shut up and follow me!’

  She drags me to the elevator and hustles me in.

  It occurs to me that I’m still in costume. Automatically, I pull my visor back down over my eyes. Machina looks at me with an arched eyebrow.