Bounders (12 page)

“Jasper.” Waters looks down at me in the cobalt beanbag. “This is important information. Please stay with us.”

Pay attention. Right. I have to work on that.

“As I was saying,” Waters continues as he walks a labyrinth around the beanbags, “you all know the basics of quantum entanglement space travel—bounding, that is—and if you don't, I'm sure they'll cover it in agonizing detail in your lectures.” Gedney laughs and Waters smiles. Some private joke, I guess. I stretch out on my beanbag and watch the stars twinkle on the ceiling.

“Let's quickly review,” Waters says. “We're able to move within space almost instantaneously by bounding. We have a base here at the space station, and we have a base at the destination. The atoms here—we'll call it home base—have a corresponding set of atoms waiting in the quantum field at the destination base—everything from the quantum ship to the equipment to the aeronauts themselves. Once the bound is initiated, the destination base atoms receive all the information from the home base atoms, and the home base atoms are left in stasis . . . empty, if you will . . . in the quantum field. That's the wavy space you see at the launch site. Does anyone know how the quantum fields are created?”

Cole's arm shoots into the air. “An inventory of every required atom is taken, starting with the ship. The quantum field is filled with the receiving atoms. Without being too technical, the bounding atoms are mapped into their receiving atoms via the space station's computers, and then the destination base is ready to receive the bound.”

“Good,” Waters says. “You've done your homework, Cole. Impressive. What could go wrong? Jasper this time.”

Bounding Base 51. The Incident. That's where Waters is going. “If the mapping is messed up,” I say, “the bound fails.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Waters asks. I guess he isn't going to gloss over it like Sheek did during lecture.

I've watched web runs of the Incident at Bounding Base 51 hundreds of times. Everyone has. It's part of Earth's collective memory. The reason the Force reintroduced the Bounder genes as insurance it would “never happen again.”

I clear my throat before answering. “The quantum ship wouldn't materialize at the destination base. The ship, the aeronauts, everything would be lost.” My voice fades at the end. The sheer gravity of it hits too close. A failed bound. That could be my fate. The EarthBound Academy isn't all fun and games. The stakes are real. And they're high.

“Everything would be lost,” Waters repeats. He settles onto his beanbag and rests his hands on his knees. “I know that's scary. This is difficult, risky work. You knew that coming in, but I know it's hard when you're staring right at it.”

“What exactly happens to the atoms when they're not received?” Lucy asks. “Where do they go?”

Waters leans forward, tightening our circle of beanbags. “Lucy, that is one of the great mysteries. No one really knows.”

“You mean they're just lost in space?” she asks.

Waters nods. He looks at Gedney before continuing. “Maybe this is a childlike notion, but I hope someday we'll solve that riddle and bring those aeronauts home.”

A heavy silence fills the pod room. We talked about the Incident a lot growing up. Mom and Dad wanted to demystify all the lore around it, since Addy and I are Bounders. My parents were on their honeymoon when the Incident at Bounding Base 51 occurred. They watched the bounding mission on the webs. Everyone did. The quantum technology was still so new and awe-inspiring. One second the ship was there, the smiling aeronauts waving good-bye, the next second it was gone. Just that. Gone.

A lot of things happened the year after the Incident. All of Earth's space programs and militaries merged to create Earth Force. Admiral Eames stepped to the helm. A few months later Earth Force announced the Bounder Baby Breeding Program. All male-female couples were tested for the Bounder genes. A positive test meant physician-assisted procreation to guarantee a Bounder baby. The government always said it was optional, but from what I've overheard from my parents, that wasn't really true.

As I sink deeper into my beanbag, I can hear Mom's voice swell:

Mom: I don't get it. What on earth are a bunch of kids going to do?

Dad: We've been through this. Their minds are better suited to perform the bounding calculations.

Mom: Better than computers? Come on. None of it makes sense. You know there's something they're not telling us.

Dad always dismisses her fears, but she never let it go.

When I drift back from the memories, Waters's bounding talk is over. He pages through a few screens on his classified tablet. “Listen up. Here's the schedule. You're headed to the main hall for full Academy lecture, then to Mobility. I won't spoil the surprise, but let me just say that the Gadget Guru will be joining you for your Mobility class today.”

The hangar doors are shut, closing it off from the wild open space beyond, and there's no sign of the gunmen from the first night. Still, the place is scary. The walls are four stories high and twice as wide. Plus, the junior officers are there, the mean ones from daily wake-up call. They'll be assisting in Mobility class. As soon as I walk in, I spot Bad Breath. No way do I want his rank odor washing over me. I head to the opposite side of the hangar.

The junior officers place us in formation facing a large crate at the front of the hangar. Marco slips in next to me as they're forming my row. As soon as the officers step away, our formation falls apart. Our lines are crooked, our spacing bunched, and at least half of the cadets (including me) are so fidgety, we look like we're practicing dance moves. We Bounders aren't exactly living up to formal military standards.

“Well, look who it is,” Marco says. Gedney's stooped form emerges from the hangar's side door, inching forward at a snail's pace. Geez, for someone who wants everyone to rush, he doesn't exactly operate at Mach speed.

Two plebes enter the hangar behind Gedney. They push shoulder-high carts piled high with gray backpacks. They position the carts alongside the crate and help Gedney climb up. That makes me nervous. Gedney on top of a crate? I can't imagine that will end well.

Gedney's mouth moves, so he must be talking, but I doubt anyone's listening. Gedney, with his civilian clothes and hunched posture, doesn't have the cred to hush a hangar full of twelve-year-olds.

“Shut up, you little freaks!” someone bellows. Bad Breath. What a surprise. He marches to the front. “You're not here to talk; you're here to be taught!” he yells. “So shut up!” He stares into our ranks, daring any of us to speak.

Marco leans over. “He's the one who roughed you up, right?”

I nod and whisper to Marco what Cole told me about Bad Breath's rank.

“You got something to say, plebe?” Bad Breath stares at me.

“No.” I will my voice not to shake, but it doesn't work.

Bad Breath's face lights up with a satisfied smile. “No, what?”

Sir.
I have to say it. I have to cower to the bully in front of everyone.

“Wasn't his answer clear?” Marco yells. “He said no.”

I turn to Marco. I'm happy for the support but—geez—does he have a death wish?

Rage boils beneath Bad Breath's eyes. “Was I talking to you, plebe?”

“My guess is, you were talking to everyone,” Marco replies. “Your job is to get things quiet for Gedney. And we're quiet. So I have no clue why you need to call out my friend. Especially since it was me talking.”

“Is that how you see it, plebe?”

“Yes,” Marco says.

“Yes, what?”

Great. Here we go again. Back where we started.

Marco smiles. And now it's his turn to look wickedly satisfied. “Yes, Auxiliary Officer Johnson.”

I can't believe it. Marco called him out in front of the entire Academy, highlighting his pass-over for aeronaut in front of all the little bounding prodigies. Marco, you rock.

Red rushes into Bad Breath's face, and his cheeks puff up like he's going to explode. I bite my lip to stop from laughing.

“Back. Of. The. Line.” Bad Breath deflates as he speaks, each word slipping out in a puff of air.

“So I'm at the back of the line? Big deal,” Marco whispers. “Chin up, Jasper. He can't touch us.” Marco slaps me on the shoulder and heads for the back.

“Okay, now, very good.” Gedney jumps right in, pulling the attention away from Marco and Bad Breath. “I'm distributing special devices today. Very special, indeed. Form two lines. Let's go. Quickly.”

We break off into lines, one in front of each bin. Gedney nods to the plebes, who each hold up a backpack. They look like standard packs to me. The only difference is the indigo-and-orange Earth Force seal embroidered on the front pocket.

“One at a time,” Gedney says. “Come through the line and get your pack. Quickly.”

We rotate through the lines. When I reach the front, the plebe tosses me a backpack. It looks like my school bag at home. What a grand fuss over nothing.

I head over to Cole and Ryan, who already have their bags. Cole looks like he's just been given an awesome birthday present.

“What are you so pumped about?” I ask.

“You'll see,” Cole says.

“What? The backpack? You're kidding, right?”

Cole doesn't respond, but he bounces on his toes.

The bag is made of a rugged material and has reinforced zippers. Okay, so it's obviously a high-quality backpack, but seriously, what gives?

One of the plebes up front whistles, and all eyes turn to Gedney.

“You now, you over there.” Gedney waves at Regis.

Regis looks around, probably making sure Gedney is actually talking to him. His buddies laugh. Randall pushes him between the shoulder blades, sending him stumbling forward.

“Fine, fine,” Gedney mumbles. “What's your name?”

Again he looks at his friends. “Regis,” he says.

“Say it loud now, son. I doubt they heard you in the back.”

Regis blushes, but he shouts his name. I glance at Cole and Ryan. They both have huge grins. They're probably thrilled to see big man Regis quake a little. I admit it's pretty awesome.

“Regis, my boy,” Gedney says, “you get to be the guinea pig. Suit up. Quickly now.”

One of the plebes helps Regis into his backpack, carefully adjusting the shoulder and chest straps.

What is this? A fashion show? Did Gedney call us down here to watch Regis try on a backpack? For someone so concerned with getting things done fast, it sure seems like a waste of time.

Regis must have been thinking the same thing. He spreads his arms out to the sides as if to say,
Okay, dude, is this it?
A condescending smile spreads across his face as he glances back at his buddies. I guess Regis is feeling a little more sure of himself, not that I'm surprised. All of this is just further proof I'm stuck in the loser pod with Waters and his sidekick, Gedney.

But Cole's still all lit up like a streetlight. Maybe I'm missing something.

“Good, good,” Gedney says. “Now, tell me, Regis, are you afraid of heights?”

“Me?” Regis laughs. “Uh, no.”

“That's good.” Gedney nods to the plebe. “Walk him to the practice area and hand him the controls.”

Controls? The plebe escorts Regis to the other side of the hangar. He unzips small pockets on either side of the backpack and pulls out two straps, each with a throttlelike grip at the end. He places the grips in Regis's hands.

Regis doesn't look so comfortable anymore.

“Turn around, son. Face me,” Gedney says. Regis squares his body toward Gedney. “Good. Now, Regis, do you see the red button on the top of the grip?”

Regis nods.

“Okay, hands together now,” Gedney says. “Gently push the buttons with your thumbs.”

Regis does as he's told. As soon as he touches those red buttons, the backpack goes rigid, whistles like a fierce gale, and shoots Regis straight into the air.

“Whoa,” I say, but I doubt anyone hears me above the other gasps and hollers. Regis is heading for the roof of the hangar. If he doesn't stop soon, he'll crash.

I tear my eyes from Regis and turn to Gedney. He's waving his arms, signaling for us to quiet down. “Hello, Regis? Can you hear me?” he yells up to the rafters.

“Yes.” Regis's voice shakes as he answers. I bet he wishes he said he was afraid of heights.

“Good. Keep your thumbs on the red buttons, and push the second buttons with your pointers.”

Regis stops rising. He hovers in the air. The backpack puffs out behind him like an inflated balloon. His legs dangle and sway. One of his shoes falls to the floor and bounces.

“Good, good. That's it, my boy. Now carefully press down with your third fingers.”

Regis jerks around in the air. It looks like the backpack has a mind of its own.