The Fall of Five

23

John holds the Illinois ID card up to the light. He bends it between his fingers and picks at the picture with his thumbnail. Then, he turns to me, smiling wide.

“This is great work, Sam. As good as the ones Henri used to make.”

“Finally.” I sigh, relieved. A dozen similar ID cards, all with some minor defects, sit in a pile next to Sandor’s main computer. All of them have John’s face along with the name John Kent.

“You should make one for yourself,” John says. “Maybe your alias could be Sam Wayne.”

“Sam Wayne?”

“Yeah, like Bruce Wayne. Superman’s buddy without any powers. That’s why you chose Kent for my last name, right? It’s a Superman reference.”

“I didn’t think you’d catch that,” I reply. “Never knew you were into comics.”

“I’m not, but we aliens like to keep tabs on each other.” John comes around to the other side of the desk, skirting one of the workshop’s many junk piles, to look at the screen over my shoulder. “All this was already on Sandor’s computer?”

“Yep,” I reply, guiding the cursor across the various forgery programs and government database hacks installed on Sandor’s machine. “It was just a matter of accessing them. And, uh, figuring out how to use them right . . .” I point to the pile of screwed-up IDs.

“Awesome,” John says. “Let’s get new identities ready for everyone. It’ll make traveling to pick up Five’s Chest easier.”

“Can’t Eight just teleport you down there?”

John shakes his head. “He can only do long ranges between those massive Loralite stones he mentioned last night. And with short range there’s too much risk of being spotted appearing from thin air. Or of him teleporting us into a wall.”

“Yeah, that would hurt.” I adjust the webcam that’s hooked onto the monitor so that it’s pointing at me. When my image appears on screen, I take a second to fix my hair and then flash my corniest smile.

“Nice,” John says, still watching.

“What can I say? I’m photogenic.”

“I always wondered why picture day at Paradise High was called Sam Goode Appreciation Day.”

“And now you know.”

I drag and drop the picture into one of the programs Sandor installed and it immediately gets to work resizing my pic for a new driver’s license. “So,” I begin lamely, not having a better segue prepared. “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on with you and Six now that Sarah’s, uh, not a traitor?”

John laughs. “We actually talked about it on the way to Arkansas. I think we’re cool now. It was kinda awkward for a while. I’m with Sarah, though. One hundred percent.”

“Okay, cool,” I reply, keeping things nonchalant. Although that doesn’t stop John from elbowing me.

“She’s all yours,” he says, and my face gets hot right away.

“That’s not why I was asking.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” John says, picking up a loose bolt from the desk and tossing it at me. “You’re gonna act like you forgot about what happened before she went to Spain? Her saying she like-likes you? Her kissing you?”

I shrug, flicking the bolt back in John’s direction. “Hmm, that sounds familiar, but it wasn’t on my mind at all.” Even as I say this, I think back to that hug Six gave me when we were reunited in Arkansas. My face gets even hotter.

Luckily, before John can mess with me further, my dad enters. He smiles at us as he wipes his greasy hands off on an old rag. He looks worn down from working on the machinery in the Lecture Hall, but there’s a pleased smile on his face. Digging into some Loric-built technology sure beats wasting away in a Mogadorian prison.

“How’d it go?” I ask him.

“The human mind is an amazing thing, Sam,” my dad muses. “When you have gaps in your memory like I do, you come to better appreciate the things you do remember. The way your hands just repeat a task you’ve done enough times, without even needing to think. Who needs Legacies when we have the infinite power of the human mind at our disposal, eh?”

“I wouldn’t mind some Legacies, actually,” I say, glancing over at John. “Sorry, he can get philosophical about science-y stuff.”

“I don’t mind at all,” John says, his smile wistful as he looks between me and my dad.

“The repairs aren’t easy,” my dad continues. “Sandor’s work is impressive and I’ve —ah—been out of the game for awhile. Everything works like I remember, it’s all just much smaller. The Lectern might be too intricate for me to get fully operational. I’ve been able to make some repairs to the controls. Some of the booby traps should be operational as well. It’s not perfect, by any means, but it’s something.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” John says. “Anything that could improve our training will help. I’d like to get a team session together before we go to Flo—”

Nine flings open the workshop door with enough force to almost tear it loose from its hinges. He takes one big stride forward and then violently kicks a stack of junk, sending circuit boards and scrap metal flying in our direction. I start to shield my face, but John catches the temper-tantrum shrapnel with his telekinesis.

“What the hell?” John yells. “Calm down!”

Nine looks up, startled, like he didn’t even realize we were in here. “Sorry,” he mutters, then stomps over to John. He holds out a hideously swollen right hand. “Heal this.”

“Damn,” I say. “What happened to you?”

“I punched Five in the head,” Nine says matter-of-factly. “It didn’t go well.”

Well, that didn’t take long , I think. Nine’s been trying to get under Five’s skin since we walked in the door. I’m actually more than a little surprised it’s Nine in here needing the healing. That’s not how I would’ve imagined that fight going. I keep my mouth shut, letting John deal with his wounded attack dog. He takes Nine’s forearm, maybe with a little more force than necessary, and holds his hand out over Nine’s messed-up fist. But he doesn’t heal him.

“You’ve gotta chill out,” John says, locking eyes with Nine. “No punching our friends. No challenging them to rooftop fights. No bullshit.”

Nine stares John down and, for a second, I think he might take a swing at him too. He doesn’t. Instead, he slaps on a big grin, as if the whole thing was one big joke. “I’m like the shittiest welcoming committee ever, huh?”

“Back in Paradise, Sarah’s mom used to bake stuff for anyone new that moved into the neighborhood. Maybe you should have to bake some cookies every time you punch someone,” I suggest.

John laughs as he sets about healing Nine’s hand. “I love that idea, Sam.”

“I am not baking,” Nine growls, fixing me with a death stare.

My dad clears his throat. We all look over at him. Standing straight, his hands folded behind his back; it’s the same look I’m sure his students at the university used to get. “Nine, I was wondering if you might want to assist me in the Lecture Hall?”

“With what?”

“Your Cêpan built the equipment. I was hoping you might have some insight into how it works.”

Nine laughs with disbelief. “Yeah, uh, sorry, dude. I left the nerd stuff to him.”

“I see,” my dad replies, undeterred by Nine’s bluster. “In that case, perhaps we could figure out how it works as a team? Unless you’re too busy punching things.”

To my surprise, Nine actually considers this. I see the same wistful look on his face that I noticed on John’s face earlier and it occurs to me that they’re both thinking about their Cêpans. I realize then what my dad is doing, reaching out to the angry guy, trying to get him involved in a project, Afterschool Special style. It’s a total parent move, but I admire it.

“All right, yeah,” Nine says. “It’s my shit. I should know how it works. Lead the way.”

As Nine and my dad head into the Lecture Hall, John turns to me.

“Your dad’s a good guy,” he says. “We might have to make him an honorary Cêpan.”

“Thanks,” I reply, my smile brittle. A cold knot of dread forms in my stomach, because I know what happens to Cêpan around the Garde, what happens to adults. It’s a dark thought, I know, but I can’t suppress it. I’ve only just reunited with my dad––I don’t want to lose him. Without realizing it, I’ve started rubbing the scars on my wrists. John must intuit what I’m feeling because he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” he says. “We’re not going to lose anyone else.”

I hope he’s right.