How Riya Ended Up Here....
Chapter One: Fairy Tales
Riya slipped out of the dining room and into the kitchen with an armload of dirty plates. If it had been noisy and crowded outside with the military students, it was worse inside with the cooking staff: like moving from the frying pan into the fire. It was a good thing Riya didn't mind heat. Or chatter.
"Did you hear?" Martha was saying. "The last one arrived today. Not half an hour ago."
"No!" Anabella exclaimed with overblown incredulity. "Did he really! Fancy that! It is a he, isn't it?"
"Of course," Martha said in that matter-of-fact tone she so loved. "There's almost twice as many boys as girls here. This one is NA Conglomerate."
Baoling made a disgusted noise. "Another American," she snorted.
"No," Martha corrected smugly, "he's from the northern province. It used to be called Canada. That's where I'm from."
No wonder she sounds so smug, Riya thought as he dumped the remains of the stiff military-kids' dinners in the garbage disposal and slipped the plates into place in the kitchen's massive dishwasher. She's going to be betting on him making the cut for whatever this training program is for, just because he's from her home province. It was amusing, but true; even Riya, with his general lack of care for Earth locale prejudices, found himself sticking up for moody Baoling just because they shared Far-Eastern heritage. It was human nature, Riya had come to realize, to group together at least in one's own mind even if you were by nature-- or by profession-- a lone wolf.
But the conversation was continuing, and Riya found it interesting and even a little informative, so he focused back on it. Martha, for all she was a pretentious woman for a simple kitchen cook, did have a cousin much higher up in the UNIS food chain than the rest of them, and she liked to brag about how much she knew. It made her feel more important, Riya figured, to know so much and dole out her knowledge like tidbits to the rest of the kitchen staff. And, since most of what she dangled before her underlings turned out to be true, Riya listened to her.
"Now that they're all here," she continued, "they can finally start the real training." Riya's ears all but perked. If he'd been a cat, they would have.
"Real training? What is it?" Anabelle, innocent Anabelle, asked the question Riya wanted the answer to. What was this "real training" she spoke of?
Unfortunately, neither would get answers, for Martha merely looked wise and turned the conversation to other things-- mostly what the rest of the staff should be doing with their time in the kitchen, instead of jabbering on like old gossips. Riya shook his head and turned his full attention to the dishes. But not for long.
::All right, all right, enough chowing!:: a voice echoed, making Riya's ears ring just slightly. He started and looked around hastily, surprised. He wasn't eating-- what the-- ::Move your lazy asses outside, Cadets! You heard me, this is no practice drill!:: For a moment, Riya was back ten years, seven years old, hearing his drill-sergeant of a father bark orders for him to get out of bed and get a move-on, and all he could do was twitch in displeasure at the uncalled for memory. Then reality flooded back, and he frowned. Cadets; that wasn't him. He was hardly one of <b>those</b> snobby military types.
But no one else in the room seemed to have heard the order. Riya looked around unobtrusively-- no one had noticed his jump of surprise; very few ever really noticed him unless he was trying to be noticed, which was as he liked it-- as he shoved the last of the used silverware into the quite-full dish-washer and closed the door, but no one had even batted an eye except for him. Curious. Either this was something that happened often-- not likely, since Riya himself had been here for almost four months now, and had never heard anything like that-- or, somehow and more likely, Riya was the only one who heard it. Which meant that this was in need of some investigation.
The dishwasher all set to go, Riya turned it on and slipped from the kitchens, out the back door and into the courtyard. It was dark, but Riya had always had excellent night-vision, enough that he was easily dazzled by lots of light, so he quickly adjusted. Hovering in the shadow of the entryway, he saw students in a small group, perhaps nine or ten, all silent and shifting awkwardly as if uncomfortable, looking around at each other. Riya could recognize most of them by their stance, having seen them around, watched them at weapons and at meals and wandering the buildings. One was certainly not one he'd seen before, probably that new kid Martha mentioned. He looked even stiffer than the rest of them. If he didn't want to remain unnoticed, Riya would have snorted with disgust and amusement both. As it was, he just shook his head sadly at the state human beings could be degraded to by joining the army. Even worse, that they often liked it.
From out of the darkness, a man approached. Captain Mullen. Riya had seen him around, though not much. A brief speech, no more than a few words really, then more of that strange talk that echoed funny in Riya's head. Like it was coming from between his ears, or being heard with something other than his ears. Like... magic?
Great, now I'm falling back on fairy tales... Riya shook his head again, rubbing absently at the stone on his bracelet, a nervous habit he'd picked up ever since he got the thing. There simply was no other explanation. Not even Riya's father had heard about an ability to talk in other people's heads being harbored by the government. Unless, if course, he had simply forgotten to tell his son, which was hardly unlikely. It wasn't as if Malagai had any reason to believe Riya would run across such a thing-- or if he did, to know when it was happening.
The group followed Mullen off towards the Barn, as Riya and the rest of the staff had taken to calling the large, old building. Probably because it was a barn. Riya followed at a far, safe distance, missing whatever conversation, if any, was going on among the students, but preferring that to being caught and sent back to the kitchen. This was far more interesting than dirty dishes and old woman gossip. Besides, it might turn out to be useful, what he learned here.
Finally reaching their destination, Riya kept to the Barn's wall in the shadows as the army-kids-- seven boys, three girls, and definitely one of them was the new kid, Riya had discerned by now-- filed in like the good little soldiers-in-training they were. There was more of that mind-echoing talking, which Riya could still hear despite being outside, though it seemed a little fainter, a little more hollow. ::Let's get one thing straight right now. I want to conduct this using this, not this.:: That Riya could not see what he was doing made things a bit more confusing, but it was cleared up momentarily as Muller continued, ::If any of you have questions, just think them at me.::
Think them at him, hmm? Better not try that one; even if he doesn't know I'm here, he might pick up me thinking something at him.... The idea to try it out later, on one of these kids, nearly made him snigger. That particularly prickish-looking new one, maybe.
::I know this is hard to believe, but bear with me,:: Mullen was saying. Or thinking. Whichever. <i>::We are all on the cutting edge here, and by that I mean both technology-wise, and for the fact that this whole operation is very experimental.::
This was getting very, very good. Not even Riya's father had managed to overhear such a strange, potentially revealing conversation before. Not that Riya knew about, at any rate.
Explanations were soon to follow. ::Right now I am using a learned ability called psionics.:: Ah. Riya had heard of that, though mostly in fictional realms, not as something that actually existed. Mind over matter sort of stuff. Fascinating. ::Very few humans seem to possess the ability for this talent, and those who do have it don't tend to know about it. Like you guys.::
And me. Huh.
The students formed up in ranks and Riya crept closer to the door, daring to peek in. The students had their backs to him at a three-quarter angle-- lucky for Riya, or else Mullen, when looking at them, would look straight back at him. Mullen pressed something that Riya couldn't see, and suddenly the room changed. From the outside, it was obvious that the imagery was holographic, but from the inside, it probably looked like the kids were actually standing on a wide open, mountain meadow. Amazing. For a moment, Riya wished he were standing there, himself; he'd never actually been anywhere where there was green grass and open air, and even the illusion of it would be breathtaking.
But Mullen was talking again. Or thinking. Whichever. There had to be a verb for that kind of communication, but Riya didn't know what it was.
::This, kids, is Avengaea!::
....What?
::No, we're not in the Swiss mountains. This is a projection of a land from another world.:: Riya almost snorted. He'd seen Mars; it looked nothing like that! But Mullen had an answer for that, too. ::You're right. Mars hasn't reached this stage of development yet.:: Riya almost jumped. Had Mullen "heard" him?! Or heard one of the cadets? Surely the cadets... surely not him. ::No, I'm talking about another world entirely. This is why you are here, or rather, this is why you are here..::
There was another shift in illusory scenery, and the barn was full of empty buildings and a street beyond. Very large-scale buildings and street beyond. ::This is going to be a little odd, so brace yourselves.::
As if this isn't odd enough already! Riya thought, finding Mullen's statement rather amusing. That he mimicked the thought of at least one of the cadets within would have made him all the more amused, had he but known.
All amusement faded as the scenery began to move, in the distance, as if... things were coming. They couldn't be human, or not all of them. They were different, varied, big and small. Riya stared, fascinated and no little awed by the creatures. They could only be dragons, for all they hardly resembled the dragons of ancient legend that his father used to tell him stories about. But the aura of power, of magic, of gentility and grace-- now that belonged with the dragons of Far-Eastern myth. They were, for all their diversity, and perhaps in part because of it, beautiful.
::Some of you have guessed already. These are Avengaean dragons. We made contact with them several years ago, and have since come to a conclusion. They need us, and we could most certainly could use their help.:: The thrill of seeing the dragons, the dream-quality of somehow believing they might be real beings, shattered in a sudden chill. They, the military, UNIS-- they would use the dragons. Ally with them. Against Mars?
Oh God. Dad--
The illusion, the hologram, disappeared, but Riya didn't see, swinging back from the lit Barn's door, leaning against the wall beside it with one hand to his head. He knew this-- but what could he do about it? Anything? Nothing? If only he could send a message-- but no, if he were caught, not only would he loose his own life, he'd loose this amazingly informative position in the Rome base. No, he needed more information, more time to think, more--
::This is Esuro Fidalites, Fire Dragon, Trainer, your superior. Think of him as you would your commanding officer.::
A dragon!
::What are you waiting for? Are you going to greet him or stare at him?::
Riya was doing neither. He was gone, the hollow voice between his ears growing fainter as he dashed as silently as he could across the strand and back to his safe, empty room in the staff building. He needed to think. And fast.
And try not to be jealous of those cadets in there, learning from a real, live dragon.