we were recruiting at an unfair advantage, taking the best of the potential Operators before they’d been admitted to the Academy, before they’d had a chance to be introduced to any of their ideologies. They’d see it as a violation of the Agreement, and they’d be right. There’s no precedent for it.”
“They’d use it to attack the Academy? Or us?”
“Us, probably.” Gaul said, shrugging. “Both sides would probably prefer to see a more sympathetic administration at the Academy. It’s particularly bad timing, too. This would be far less complicated if Anastasia Martynova wasn’t currently at the Academy. That the future head of the Black Sun would be in the same class as Alexander, should we choose to admit him, is a particularly bad break for us.”
The room was quiet then, for a moment, with only the labored breathing from the hospital bed to break the silence.
“Then, if I understand correctly,” Vladimir began, looking cunning, “the problem is that we cannot make this boy an Auditor, unless he first attends the Academy?”
Gaul nodded slowly, looking at the grey-haired man’s smile and trying to understand.
“Once he is a student, he is free to choose for himself, yes?”
“After he completes two full years, same as any other student,” Gaul allowed.
“The solution is simple, then. We make sure that he decides to become an Auditor, and there is no problem,” Vladimir shouted, delighted.
“I’m not sure that it would be that easy…” Michael began, with a touch of exasperation in his voice.
“It’s a possibility,” Gaul said distantly.
“We protect him, from the cartels, from everybody,” Vladimir insisted, leaning toward Michael to look at him directly, his pale blue eyes sparkling from within wrinkled folds of tired skin. “We make sure that they can’t get close to him, that they can’t brainwash him to see things their way.”
“How do we know that he will choose what we want him to?”
“You are his teachers, yes? Teach him. It should help,” Vladimir pointed out, “that we are in the right.”
Michael smiled.
“There is another possibility,” Gaul said reluctantly, his eyes on the floor.
“Who rescued Mitsuru and this boy?”
“Henry North. Of the North Cartel, affiliated with the Hegemony,” Gaul added, his voice again distant and mechanical.
Michael shook his head. His friend’s habit of constantly accessing his network uplink to answer routine questions bothered him. He wondered if Gaul had any faith at all in his own mind, unassisted.
“There is no other possibility,” Vladimir said, folding his arms, “if one faction is already aware of him, then the others are too, or will be shortly.”
“They are not aware of his potential,” Gaul said quietly, still looking down.
“You are certain?”
Gaul paused, and then shook his head slowly.
“Then there is no other possibility,” Vladimir said defiantly.
“There is, though,” Gaul insisted, “and it has to be decided by vote, by the Board. And right now. We have no idea how long we can keep this kind of information under wraps.”
“Assuming it even is under wraps,” Vladimir muttered. “You know how far little Anastasia has worked her claws into the Hegemony. If they know about Alex, then she does, too.”
Michael gave the two empty chairs in the room a significant look.
“What about Rebecca and Alistair? What do they think about all this?”
“Rebecca is handling some negotiations in the Philippines. Alistair is manning the comms right now, and he’ll get in contact with her as soon as we are ready to vote. I’ll relay their decisions,” Gaul said, finally looking up, cold and impassive.
“Very well,” Vladimir said. “Let me remind you both that you are teachers, not butchers. If all we see in these children is risk, then we, and the Academy, have wholly failed.”
“How do you vote, Vladimir?”
Gaul’s voice was hollow when he asked the question, obviously relaying the decision to the Etheric archive.
“Admit him.”
“Michael?”
Michael hesitated for a moment and then shook his head.
“It could undermine everything we’ve done here. But it’s not in my nature to write the kid off, no matter what his story is. Vladimir’s right, we admit him.”
There was a brief pause, and then Gaul spoke again, robotically.
“Rebecca also votes to admit. Alistair abstains. Majority vote for admission. For the record,” Gaul continued, “I vote for termination.”
Michael didn’t bother to disguise the shock he felt when he looked at Gaul. Vladimir clucked and had a sour expression. Gaul looked down for a moment then, and when he spoke again, it was in his normal voice.
“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “It’s very important to make sure the record is complete.”
Michael sighed and shook his head.
Five
Alex knew he was in a hospital before he opened his eyes, from the soft beeping sounds, the starched white sheets against his skin, and the pervasive antiseptic smell. Given the dull, insistent pain in his back and abdomen, and the more immediate pain in his forearm, that seemed like the right place for him to be. Alex rested a bit longer, comforted by the various chimes and chirps of the hospital electronics. He wondered briefly how he would pay for all this, and then put it out of his mind with an effort. After a while, he decided to try opening his eyes.
He was not expecting the huge dreadlocked black man next to his bed, wearing an immaculately tailored grey suit and brilliant red tie, looking at him with an expression that managed to convey concern and amusement simultaneously. Alex hadn’t figured on anybody being there, but if he’d expected anyone, it would have been the cops. And this guy, with his ridiculous grin and his beautiful suit, he was definitely not the cops.
But wasn’t there a half-destroyed park filled with dead wolves somewhere?
Alex was a rational person, or at least he tried to be. Life, he knew, did not always conform to that standard — in fact, it often didn’t, at least in his case. But he tried to be reasonable about things, to stay realistic. He didn’t delude himself. He wasn’t crazy.
At least he wasn’t
That left only one option he knew of, namely, that the world was not as described to him. For anyone else, that might have been a troubling notion. For Alex, that idea had vaguely positive connotations. How much worse could it get, after all? He had nothing to lose, they way he saw it, or nothing he’d miss much anyway, so he was more curious than he was frightened.
“You don’t look like a cop,” Alex said, opening his eyes and yawning. This was actually understatement — Alex was absolutely sure he wasn’t a cop. After being institutionalized for a while, it had become an instinctual thing, instantaneous recognition.
Michael looked both surprised and delighted.
“No?”
Alex shook his head. The black dude looked tough, but he didn’t seem angry or anything. In fact, he looked as if he might to start laughing, though Alex couldn’t figure out what was so funny.
“Nope. You don’t look much like a werewolf, either,” he added.
“Is that so?”
Michael appeared to be stifling laughter.
“Well, okay, I’m not sure what a werewolf looks like when he’s not, you know, being a wolf, or a wolf-man- thing,” Alex admitted. “But you don’t seem like the type to me.”
“You’re right. I’m definitely not a werewolf.” Michael affirmed. “This is probably a good thing for you.”
