Vortex Read Online Free Page A
menacingly closer at the implication. Tom knew he’d made her mad, but he stood his ground.
“Don’t you get it?” he said. “This ability we’ve got—we could do anything. We could make the world better. We could be like . . .” He faltered a moment, knowing this would make him sound like a dumb eight-year-old, but it was the only word he could think of. “ . . . superheroes.”
This is not a comic book, Mordred. We are not untraceable, and we are not invincible. We only operate in safety now because no one knows to look for us. The next time you pull something this stupid, I will come back and make sure you can’t do it again.
“Like how? You’ll kill me?”
He’d thrown that out there carelessly. He hadn’t been serious.
Suddenly, the drone swept toward him, the optical camouflaging peeling up enough to reveal the guns Medusa was leveling at his head, and something triggered instinctively in Tom as the red laser–targeting scanners crept over him, the massive machine searing the air around him. He scrambled back until he hit the door to the balcony, and found himself plastered there, staring right down a gun barrel, his heart pounding furiously, cold sweat prickling all over his body. For a timeless moment, they were suspended like that, her missile turret leveled right at his head.
Satisfied she’d made her point, her drone gave a taunting wave of its body, and Medusa planted a gibe in his vision center: That’s the idea.
Tom found himself vividly remembering the moment at Capitol Summit when he’d used her disfigurement just to win. They’d liked each other before that.
He’d changed everything.
“Would it help if I said I’m sorry?” Tom asked her. He wasn’t referring to what he’d done today.
No. Apologies are a waste of air, Mordred. Don’t do this again .
And then her drone roared up and shrank away. Soon he couldn’t even see the drone’s telltale shimmer in the night sky, just a blinding ceiling of skyboards.
CHAPTER TWO
T WO DAYS LATER, the morning sky gathered a purple light as his plane tilted up its rudders, shifted into helicopter mode, and lowered itself onto the Pentagon. Tom stepped onto the roof below the chrome tower of the Pentagonal Spire.
Two armed marines approached, and he flipped his Challenge Coin out of his pocket, raising it up so they’d see the eagle insignia. “Thomas Raines, trainee, US Intrasolar Forces.” The coin flashed green as it simultaneously verified his voiceprint, his fingerprints, and his DNA. One final step, the sweep of a retina scanner, and Tom had officially confirmed his identity for access to the Pentagonal Spire. An elevator swept him into the Pentagon.
Minutes later, duffel bag slung over shoulder, Tom walked into the Spire’s lobby. He paused beneath the massive golden eagle with its outstretched wings, then set off down the corridor to the Patton mess hall.
There, he saw returning trainees, a handful of newly promoted CamCo Combatants, and a dazed-looking new plebe with spiky, short-shorn red hair. She was sitting by herself next to the elevator and mournfully brushing her palm over her scalp. His neural processor immediately pulled up her profile information:
NAME: Madison Andrews
RANK: USIF, Grade III Plebe, Genghis Division
ORIGIN: Connell, Utah
ACHIEVEMENTS: Chairman of the Utah Federation Young Debater’s Society, member of the Fairness in Voting Youth Committee
IP: 2053:db7:lj71::369:ll3:6e8
SECURITY STATUS: Top Secret LANDLOCK-3
Tom caught her eye and flashed her a grin. “Don’t worry. Hair grows way faster than it did before the processor.”
She offered him a shaky smile, and he headed onward toward the massive oil painting of General Patton. There he found what he was looking for. Even though it had only been two weeks, Tom felt a rush of joy at seeing Vikram Ashwan, his best friend. Vik launched himself up from the bench where he’d been waiting; strode over to Tom; and they dropped their bags
“Don’t you get it?” he said. “This ability we’ve got—we could do anything. We could make the world better. We could be like . . .” He faltered a moment, knowing this would make him sound like a dumb eight-year-old, but it was the only word he could think of. “ . . . superheroes.”
This is not a comic book, Mordred. We are not untraceable, and we are not invincible. We only operate in safety now because no one knows to look for us. The next time you pull something this stupid, I will come back and make sure you can’t do it again.
“Like how? You’ll kill me?”
He’d thrown that out there carelessly. He hadn’t been serious.
Suddenly, the drone swept toward him, the optical camouflaging peeling up enough to reveal the guns Medusa was leveling at his head, and something triggered instinctively in Tom as the red laser–targeting scanners crept over him, the massive machine searing the air around him. He scrambled back until he hit the door to the balcony, and found himself plastered there, staring right down a gun barrel, his heart pounding furiously, cold sweat prickling all over his body. For a timeless moment, they were suspended like that, her missile turret leveled right at his head.
Satisfied she’d made her point, her drone gave a taunting wave of its body, and Medusa planted a gibe in his vision center: That’s the idea.
Tom found himself vividly remembering the moment at Capitol Summit when he’d used her disfigurement just to win. They’d liked each other before that.
He’d changed everything.
“Would it help if I said I’m sorry?” Tom asked her. He wasn’t referring to what he’d done today.
No. Apologies are a waste of air, Mordred. Don’t do this again .
And then her drone roared up and shrank away. Soon he couldn’t even see the drone’s telltale shimmer in the night sky, just a blinding ceiling of skyboards.
CHAPTER TWO
T WO DAYS LATER, the morning sky gathered a purple light as his plane tilted up its rudders, shifted into helicopter mode, and lowered itself onto the Pentagon. Tom stepped onto the roof below the chrome tower of the Pentagonal Spire.
Two armed marines approached, and he flipped his Challenge Coin out of his pocket, raising it up so they’d see the eagle insignia. “Thomas Raines, trainee, US Intrasolar Forces.” The coin flashed green as it simultaneously verified his voiceprint, his fingerprints, and his DNA. One final step, the sweep of a retina scanner, and Tom had officially confirmed his identity for access to the Pentagonal Spire. An elevator swept him into the Pentagon.
Minutes later, duffel bag slung over shoulder, Tom walked into the Spire’s lobby. He paused beneath the massive golden eagle with its outstretched wings, then set off down the corridor to the Patton mess hall.
There, he saw returning trainees, a handful of newly promoted CamCo Combatants, and a dazed-looking new plebe with spiky, short-shorn red hair. She was sitting by herself next to the elevator and mournfully brushing her palm over her scalp. His neural processor immediately pulled up her profile information:
NAME: Madison Andrews
RANK: USIF, Grade III Plebe, Genghis Division
ORIGIN: Connell, Utah
ACHIEVEMENTS: Chairman of the Utah Federation Young Debater’s Society, member of the Fairness in Voting Youth Committee
IP: 2053:db7:lj71::369:ll3:6e8
SECURITY STATUS: Top Secret LANDLOCK-3
Tom caught her eye and flashed her a grin. “Don’t worry. Hair grows way faster than it did before the processor.”
She offered him a shaky smile, and he headed onward toward the massive oil painting of General Patton. There he found what he was looking for. Even though it had only been two weeks, Tom felt a rush of joy at seeing Vikram Ashwan, his best friend. Vik launched himself up from the bench where he’d been waiting; strode over to Tom; and they dropped their bags
Readers choose
Claudia Casper
Tawny Weber
Stormy McKnight
Cathy Cassidy
Mathias Enard
Jonny Bowden
Joe Hart
Pete Hautman
Mark Del Franco
Susan Mallery