Bounders Read online

  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.” R
egis’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.

  Gedney tries to coach him. “Gently. Yes. No. The third fingers, boy!”

  The backpack pulls Regis right, then left. He drops several meters until he hangs in the air about three meters from the ground. “What do I do?” yells Regis. He sounds so panicked, he makes my blood pressure rise a few notches.

  “Your first three fingers, son!” Gedney shouts. “Only make sure you don’t—”

  Regis plummets to the ground, backpack first.

  “Take your thumbs off the red buttons,” Gedney continues, too late.

  Regis strikes the ground and then bounces back up. I didn’t notice it before, but the entire far side of the hanger has a swath of black netting stretched a few inches above the ground.

  “A trampoline,” Cole whispers next to me. Ahhh, so that’s why his shoe bounced. It doesn’t look like any trampoline I’ve ever seen, but Regis’s body rebounding back up in the air confirms it.

  Gedney hobbles over to the practice zone and pulls Regis off the net with the help of one of the plebes. He hurries Regis back to the center of the hangar. “Fine. Very good. Nice first flight. Thank you for volunteering.” Gedney might not remember he picked Regis out of the crowd, but I’m sure Regis knows he didn’t volunteer.

  “These packs are very important,” Gedney continues. “You must master them. Most places you’ll travel as Bounders have gravity pulls very different from what you’re used to. You’ll need your packs to get around.”

  Despite Regis’s precarious flight, all of us inch closer to the two backpack bins. Sure, I’m nervous, but I can’t wait to buckle into my backpack and press those red buttons.

  “Okay, then,” Gedney says. “Regis, you stand up here with me for a demonstration. Hold up those controls so everyone can get a look. Top buttons—the red ones—those are for your thumbs. They control upward propulsion. First finger button is hover. First and second together is forward. First three fingers depressed takes you in reverse. Grab all buttons at once to go down. Gradually, that is. As Regis so aptly demonstrated, if you simply let go of the controls your descent will be greatly aided by gravity.”

  That last comment draws a few chuckles, and Regis’s face turns red.

  “Come on, now,” Gedney says. “No time to waste. Come grab your blast pack.”

  I elbow my way to the middle of the blast pack line. After each group suits up, one of the plebes takes the cadets to the practice zone for a tutorial. Most cadets get the hang of it after a few tries.

  Cole’s group heads over to the practice zone before I do. Cole is small. The plebe has to pull the straps super tight to secure him in the pack. Cole keeps bobbing his head and hopping on his toes as he stares at the controls, listening to the last words of advice from the plebe.

  When the plebe steps back from the net, he gives the go signal. Four of the kids shoot straight into the air. Cole doesn’t move. He keeps his eyes glued to the controls. He’s frozen. I cringe. How embarrassing.

  Then Cole raises his head, nods, and lifts off. He comes to a perfect stop midway to the rafters and then banks left. He travels halfway across the tarp, stops, ascends fifteen meters, then banks right. He zooms to the exact same spot on the other side, lowers, then flies left again. I’m stunned. Cole executed a near perfect square in the air. Compared to the other kids soaring haphazardly across the hangar, nearly colliding with one another midair, Cole achieved some bizarre mastery on his first flight.

  I’m not the only one who notices. When Cole lands on the tarp, whispers run through the line.

  “Wow.”

  “Did you see that?”

  “Was that really his first flight?”

  Lucy punches me on the shoulder. The line kept moving, and I let a huge gap open in front of me. I glare at her but quickly catch up. My group suits up next. Lucy and I will be flying together.

  As the plebe fastens me into my pack, my blood pulses with excitement. I can’t wait to push those red buttons. I mean, how hard can it be? Cole made it look like a piece of cake. And if he can do it, I’m sure I won’t have any trouble.

  I step onto the tarp while the plebe reviews the instructions. I mostly tune him out. I listened to Gedney the first time.

  Lucy pokes me in the ribs. “Pay attention, Jasper.”

  “And most important,” the plebe says, “don’t release the red buttons. Go!”

  I jam my thumbs down on the red buttons and shoot into the air. I sail toward the rafters, leaving Lucy and the other cadets meters below. That’s right. Eat my airstream.

  The blast pack pulls me up while my body weighs me down. It’s the strangest mix of odd and awesome. No cadet has anywhere close to my altitude. Jasper Adams, Blast Pack Master. So what about Cole and his fancy moves? I’ll fly higher than anyone.

  “Slow down, Jasper!” Lucy calls. Seriously? Like I’d let you catch me?

  “Jasper! Loosen up!” the plebe shouts from the hangar floor.

  Sure. In a sec. I’ll need to change course soon. The rafters are a few meters ahead.

  That’s it, just a litter farther. Wait. Now what? First and second together. Good. I bank right. Too far right. First three fingers. Left. Too far left. Oh no. I majorly overcorrected. Right again. What’s hover?

  Shouts rise up from below, but they reach me in a jumbled mess. And, okay, I panic. I squeeze and release the controls in a random pattern that sends me zigzagging across the hangar. The pack jerks my body like a rag doll.

  All I remember are the red buttons. I grind my thumbs against them and release my other fingers. My pack accelerates straight for the roof.

  I hear the screams and Lucy’s high-pitched squeal. “Jasper, stop!”

  When my head hits the roof, I must release the red buttons, because gravity steps in and pulls me straight to the ground.

  9

  “HE’S WAKING UP!” LUCY’S HIGH VOICE jabs at my brain like a dull cafeteria knife. Please, not now. It hurts.

  I flutter my eyelids, but I can’t keep them open for more than a second. Moving them at all exhausts every muscle in my face. Someone squeezes my hand. Lucy. No one else would do that.

  “Jasper? It’s Lucy.” Yep. “You’ve been in an accident.”

  No joke. Plunging four stories to the hangar floor definitely qualifies as an accident, trampoline or not.

  “Can you hear me, Jasper?”

  My eyes flutter again. Opening them is getting a little easier, but everything is out of focus. Lucy is here. Her wide eyes gaze down at me, and her eyebrows are pinched. There’s someone else. Cole. It must be Cole.

  “Cole?”

  The fuzzy figure approaches. “I’m here.”

  “How on earth did you do that?”

  “What?”

  “The box. In the air.” I lift my head, and the room whirls.

  “Quiet, Jasper,” Lucy says. “You need to rest.”

  Shoes tap across the floor. “He’s awake?” Waters. Great. I’m sure my fall will do wonders for my placement in the pod.

  “Jasper, are you awake?” Waters asks.

  I focus hard and manage to nod.

  “Good. You’ll be fine. You’re mighty bruised, but no significant injuries. I had them sedate you so you could rest—that’s your biggest issue right now—but you’ll come out of it in the next few hours.”

  I force my chin into a nod again. I’m not thrilled about being sedated, but all I want is to slip back into oblivion.

  “We have work to do
, Jasper,” Waters says. “I expect you there with the pod tomorrow morning. And no more stunts. The whole operation’s a bust if you’re not in one piece.”

  Stunts? I wish. That would mean I had control over what happened in the hangar. Yeah, right. I guess I didn’t leave my klutzy ways back on Earth like I planned.

  Lucy squeezes my hand, then a chorus of footsteps moves toward the door. I assume they all left, but I don’t have the energy to check. Maybe I’m wrong. I could swear someone is watching me.

  The next time I open my eyes, something dark and hairy hovers in the air above my face. I squeeze my eyes shut. Geez. Whatever meds the docs pumped into me have me seeing things.

  Arrr. Kit. Kit. Rarrrgh. Kleek. Guttural grunts and clicks rumble through the room.

  What on earth? My eyes fly back open. I’m not seeing things. A Tunneler dressed in a white medical coat stands next to my bed.

  “How are you feeling?” the translator box says.

  It takes a second for me to catch my breath. “Ummm . . . I guess okay.”

  The Tunneler’s hairy hand clutches a thermometer. He zaps it in my ear. Kleek. Arrr. Arghhh. Kit. Kleek. “Normal. That’s a good sign. Open your eyes wide.”

  He shines a light in my face and taps a note into a tablet that rests beside my bed. This is so surreal. I haven’t been this close to a Tunneler since that day on the air rail, the day before I left for the Academy. My mind spins. There are so many things I should ask him.

  “Are you from the Paleo Planet?” I ask.

  He grunts and clicks in a fast frenzy. The translation box says: “Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  When he settles down from his fit of laughter he says, “You Earthlings. All you ever ask about is the Paleo Planet. No. I’m not from there. None of us are from there, although a lot of my people work there now. I’ve never been to the Paleo Planet. I don’t even live in the same galaxy.”

  Whoa. Okay. Sorry I asked. He’s just as touchy as the Tunneler on the air rail. Is it him? Nah, I don’t think so.

  The Tunneler crosses to a medical cart on the other side of the room. He walks all hunched, like Gedney.