Qualify (52 page)

But Gordie wows me even more, because the boy’s become a very solid marksman. During week three, my nearsighted baby brother with his permanently smudged glasses and a chronic inability to notice things past his nose, takes me and George to the Arena Commons firing range where he calmly shoots every target in the precise center, and then switches to his left hand and
does it again
.

“Wow, that’s crazy good, Gee Three!” I say. “You’re awesome! How’d you do it?”

“Thanks.” Gordie beams. “It’s actually not that hard once they explained how to properly aim at stuff.”

“What do you mean? How are you supposed to aim?”

Gordie turns his head slightly and gives me his typical slow crooked smile. “That’s the thing,” he says. “You don’t really aim at all. You sort of
know
where the target is with your mind, beforehand. And then when the time comes to fire, you just let your body’s reflexes naturally point to it, on the fly. . . . You
never
aim. You
find
it.”

I am not sure I get it completely, but whatever it is, it seems to be working out great for Gordie. And even George admits that our little Gee Three seems very grown up these days. He also thinks Gracie’s doing pretty well too, all things considered. At least there’s less whining.

George himself is somewhat harder to read. Whatever it is they teach him at the Green Quadrant is not as clearly definable, not as clear-cut. In some ways, Green and Yellow are very similar—both are equally subtle, murky and complicated, in direct contrast to Red and Blue’s straightforwardness.

“Our basis is resistance, stability achieved through balance, and defense,” George says thoughtfully, trying to put complex notions into words. “With shields,
strength
is used differently. You mostly learn to block, anticipate your opponent, aspire to be where they will be in the next instant. First, you
anchor
yourself . . . and then you become very flexible and ‘all over the place.’ You surrender your own position and self—in order to retain it. Like a rubber band snapping. Does that even make sense?”

“Yeah, strangely enough, it kind of does.” I nod.

George laughs uncomfortably. “Glad you don’t think I’m crazy, Gee Two. Because sometimes I think Green is a little crazy. . . . Shields are crazy. Everything, this whole thing is—letting go and holding back. . . .
Sacrifice
.”

And when he says this, it makes me think of what’s going on outside, beyond the secure fence of the RQC in the greater world . . . which, it turns out, is falling apart more and more every day.

Because although they don’t tell us, some news gets in, in one way or another. Over the entire four weeks we learn of new escalations—mass riots on a daily basis, new wars on five continents, and even a brief nuclear threat from one crazy small nation that decided they wanted to go out with a bang
on their own terms
and take the whole world with them before the asteroid makes impact. . . .

I feel utter numbness come over me every time I think of our parents all alone, in our small house back in Highgate Waters, rural northern dairyland Vermont, a few miles from the Canadian border. The closest large city is St. Albans, and I can only imagine the kind of unrest that has reached even these peaceful communities by now. I have no idea if Dad even bothers to commute to his job at the University further south. Or if Mom can get the regular medical supplies she needs. . . .

Honestly, I don’t
want
to know. I don’t think I can bear it.

F
inally, with all that’s been going on, there’s the situation with my alleged criminal status and my special training. In that sense nothing has changed. I am still under suspicion for the shuttle incident, and over the three weeks, I am questioned at least five more times by the Correctors, as I am called in briefly to Building Fifteen to “verify” certain facts and renew my alibis, and basically reiterate everything I’ve already told them. Except for the two Candidates who were arrested on the same night as Laronda, in connection with trying to smuggle out one of the navigation chips on the underside of a delivery truck, they still haven’t found whoever is responsible for the main sabotage. And so the investigation continues, including random dorm searches. By now, everyone’s been “interviewed,” some people multiple times.

And then there’s my training. Apparently, the power singing voice—the Logos voice—that got me into this mess in the first place, is even more important in its potential than I thought. I still get plenty of curious stares around the RQC compound from Candidates who think of me as the weirdo with the “super voice.” Unfortunately, over the three weeks following, I find out that except for my ability to belt out the keying sequence that levitates a shuttle, I am unable to do much of anything else with it—yet.

At least I tell myself the “yet” part because it gets harder and harder to face Command Pilot Aeson Kass and his subtle mocking indifference every night and produce little to no results.

Blayne Dubois, on the other hand, is making amazing progress. By the end of the second week of their sessions, I find that I no longer have to hold the hoverboard for him, as he has figured out a means of keeping the board vertically upright with a combination of upper body balance and his own partial leg muscle strength.

Instead, I now get to help out only occasionally and mostly observe and wait while their sparring is done, and then it’s my turn after Blayne leaves. I should mention that Blayne and I have been discreetly practicing LM Forms sparring on our own time, in an empty classroom on the fourth floor of our dorm, with him in his wheelchair and me sitting down across from him to maintain eye-to-eye level. It’s not easy to do real LM Forms without a hoverboard, but we do get some extra time in.

But the most oddly unbearable moments happen in Office 512, after Blayne’s training is over for the night and Aeson Kass and I are left alone.

That’s when Aeson asks me about my progress from the night before, looking at me steadily with his unreadable eyes that appear to see right through me. I cringe inside with embarrassment and tell him that nothing new happened, and I am still unable to perform this task or that.

“Keep practicing,” is usually all he says, without any inflection, as he drops pieces of orichalcum into my palm. “Modulate your voice in as many ways as you can—tone, volume, intensity. You have the means to do it. It is up to you to discover how.”

And sometimes I retort in frustration, “But I have no idea what I’m doing! Is there anything you can suggest?”

“No,” he replies. “It is all practice and insight. I cannot teach you insight, only tell you what may or may not be done.”

And that’s when I really want to reach out and slap him on his perfectly shaped sarcastic mouth.

There are a few things I do manage to get right, eventually. By the end of week two, I am able to do the selective focus levitation of only
one
orichalcum object out of several.

But the most important assignment he gives me I finally perform by the end of week four, only a few days before our looming date of Semi-Finals.

It’s the ability to
override
and temporarily
nullify
other people’s keying status in relation to a given orichalcum object. In other words, not only can I re-key objects to myself remotely that have been already keyed and claimed by other people, but I can make it so that the orichalcum receives such a strong charge of my own vocal resonance that
other people cannot
key it back again for a long time. . . .

Basically it means I can step in and take control from others. It is called an Aural Block. And Aeson warns me that I am not to tell anyone about it—about what I can now
do
. . . .

It’s my secret weapon for Qualification.

A
t last, it’s day twenty-seven at the RQC, with only one other day remaining before the Semi-Finals. We still don’t know
what
the Semi-Finals will actually be—that announcement comes tomorrow.

But today?

Today’s the day our official Standing Scores are posted in each of the twelve dorms.

The 7:00 AM claxon alarms go off and I open my eyes, blinking from the bright overhead lights. By now I am used to these rude awakenings, but this one in particular gives me a sinking sense of dread.

“Oh, no . . . noooooo . . . Sweet lord help us . . .” Laronda moans from her own bed, as everyone in the girls’ dormitory comes awake to this new frightening day.

“I don’t want to go downstairs,” Hasmik says from the other side. “I can’t bear it.”

“I know,” I mutter, sitting up.

“Our Scores. . . . Do you think they’re already up?” a girl wonders several beds down.

“Probably,” another one replies.

“Rise and shine, girlfriends! Get your butts downstairs, sooner not later!
Move!
” Dorm Leader Gina Curtis pops her head in from the double doors and begins yelling at the whole room in her brash voice.

“Yeah, yeah. . . . Ready?” Dawn mutters, holding her change of clothes and underwear as she waits for us to get our own morning stuff together.

“As ready as I’ll ever be . . . let’s go.” Taking a deep breath of resignation, Laronda grabs her clothes and things.

Running on nerves, we hit the bathrooms and already the gossip is non-stop. Everyone has a theory about these dratted Scores, and some are pretty wild.

As we’ve been told earlier, our performance over the past four weeks has been evaluated by all of our Instructors. Various achievement factors—some that we might guess, such as “voice,” “agility,” “weapons combat,” and others that we probably can’t even imagine—are all added up into an overall combined Achievement Total for each Candidate. These Achievement Totals are then ranked in order. And this is what determines each Candidate’s standing in the whole RQC—the Standing Score.

Since there are 6,023 Candidates in the Pennsylvania RQC-3, the highest possible Standing Score is #1 and the lowest Standing Score is #6,023.

What does that mean?

Let’s just say that if you are the Candidate whose Standing Score is #1, then you are probably going to Qualify (and most of the rest of us are going to hate your guts).

And if you’re that pathetic last-place Candidate #6,023 with the really lousy overall combined AT score, then there is very little chance that you will get through the Semi-Finals unscathed.

However—we are also told—these Standing Scores are only valid
before
the Semi-Finals.

They determine the
entry order
, not the final outcome.

So, yeah, there’s still hope, even for that poor Candidate who is ranked dead
last
.

Only—what the heck is this entry order, and why it matters so much, we still don’t know.

But we’re about to find out.

Chapter 29

W
hen we get downstairs to the Yellow Dorm Eight lounge, there’s already a crowd. A line of anxious Candidates has formed before a smart-board that has been set up on one wall.

The board touch-screen displays all our names alphabetically in an endless scroll on the bottom strip. Apparently it’s not only the people in our Dorm but the whole RQC.

Each name is followed by a number, like this:
Doe, Jane – #123
. In case of duplicate names, the Dorm is also listed.

Meanwhile, the upper portion of the board lists our own Dorm residents only, in vertical columns of five, and three across.

If you don’t see your name, you swipe the screen for more, and keep going until you find it. Then, press your name, and it displays your Standing Score in a large font. Below it is another smaller number that represents the Achievement Total. Press the AT, and you get the detailed breakdown of all the achievement factors that went into that sum.

“Oh, great,” Laronda says. “Just what we need, public humiliation. Now everyone can see each of my ultra-lousy scores.”

“Wonder why they didn’t just scan our tokens and tell us privately?” I say.

“Too much hassle, I bet,” Dawn says. “I imagine they don’t want to read off every single detail to six thousand people. Besides, this is public knowledge anyway, might as well know our competition.”

We get in line. Good thing today is not a full day of classes, otherwise we’d be late. Each Candidate at the board takes their sweet time, it seems, jotting down their scores and taking notes, and probably looking up other people they know in other dorms. Good thing they don’t give you the whole RQC’s detailed breakdown data, else we’d be here forever.

“Please don’t take up too much time, Candidates! Look up your own info only, and stand aside—be considerate of others. You can come back later in the day to see it again, this board is not going away anytime soon. Talk to us if you have any questions,” John Nicolard says. The Dorm Leaders are standing off to the side watching this zoo.

About twenty minutes later, I finally get my turn at the board. I swipe, and there’s
Lark, Gwenevere – #4,796
. And below it is the AT score: 77.