Crystal Mind: A novel in the Projector War Saga Read online

  I flipped the com switch to ‘on’, and listened a moment. There weren’t any noises I could make out as speech, so I just focused on scanning my surroundings. Two minutes and seventeen seconds later, I spotted a blue figure climbing the tower—taking the path instead of the shorter climb I’d used to get up here.

  “Burton, Smith is climbing the tower,” I said.

  There was a faint crackling, then someone’s voice—presumably Burton’s—said, “How do you know it’s Smith?”

  I looked back down to see a flash of the blue suit disappear around a corner. “I saw her. My eyes are good.”

  But not that good. Well, maybe. If I’d seen more than a glance and had time to analyze walking speed, height, and perhaps derive hair shade, then maybe. As it was, I didn’t know how I knew it was Smith—only that it was. That blue form held the same type of intense intelligence and confidence I’d seen when I’d looked into Smith’ eyes before.

  “Is she alone?”

  I blinked back to the visual I’d seen of her starting the climb, but there were no other blue flashes.

  “Yes.”

  As I pushed away the memory, the air around me filled with buzzing—like a bumblebee flying around my ear. I squinted my eyes and tried to push the sound away like I usually did with annoying sounds. It faded, but didn’t go away.

  “—engage.”

  I bit my lip and closed my eyes. It took one, firm push to clear away the buzzing in my ears. I refocused on trying to parse through the sounds coming from the com.

  “I didn’t catch that,” I said.

  There was a sound I couldn’t quite identify except to say it was auditory input, and a long pause. “I said to go get Wong. She’ll be somewhere inside the tower. Whatever you do, if you’re alone, don’t engage. She might be the turncoat.”

  I nodded to myself. That was one possibility I hadn’t considered. After all, why would she come here without at least one person from her team as backup? It increased the probability that she would get locked down, and it decreased the probability of mission success.

  That said, I didn’t have the data to know how abnormal her behavior was. After all, Burton had gone alone to Red territory without backup. Part of that was because she didn’t trust me to have her back, but part of it was likely habit. I wasn’t sure how often they changed up teams for games like this in class, but everyone had already known which teams they were on when they got there which meant they’d worked together before—or that there was a discernable pattern to who worked together when. Burton had to be used to working alone and leaving Wong to defend the flag. Smith was a different story.

  I found Wong in the center of the tower looking behind loose styrofoam blocks in the wall to try and find our flag. I met her eyes and she frowned.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her eyes were fastened on my lips.

  “Smith is en route to the top of the tower. Burton thinks she might be the turncoat.”

  Just then, the sound of cursing on the other side of the mic reached my ears.

  “What is it?” I asked Burton.

  “Just got locked down by Red—they weren’t even supposed to be here.”

  “Not supposed to be here?” I echoed.

  “With Blue one down, I decided to take them on. No luck. Tell Wong she’s on her own, will you?”

  I agreed, and Burton’s mic went silent. I started a timer in the corner to reflect Burton’s lockdown timer, then updated Wong. We hurried back to the top of the tower without a word, just in time to see Tabitha Smith come around the corner.

  Wong’s laser gun was in her hand. Smith’s was in the holster, and her hands were spread palms out in a sign for peace. She was even watching us so I could see her eyes.

  “Don’t shoot, I’m the trade-over. I declare with Blue team.”

  Wong pursed her lips. “If you really are the turncoat, why declare with us, and not Red?”

  Smith jerked her head at me. “Farina already has one period of detention, and she’s one of my friends. I’m just trying to help her stay out of Saturday detention, too.”

  “So you pick the disadvantaged team and risk your own weekend?” Wong asked.

  Smith shrugged, her hands still carefully out to the side. “Look, either believe me or lock me down. The game’s almost a quarter of the way through, and I need to get out there and earn points. I’m being scored with you now that I’m declared. You lock me down, and you’ll lose twenty points.”

  Wong tilted her head a moment, and then holstered the gun. “We’re on channel 1-1-4-2. Code 2-9-7-3-2. It should change your vest color, too.”

  I saw the flash of triumph in Smith’ eyes alongside the dishonesty. Then she looked back down at the ground.

  “Wong, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. She could be lying,” I said.

  Smith looked past me, carefully avoiding my eyes, but still looking at me. “I’m hurt, Farina. You should know that if Blue wins this competition, it’ll be the second win in the last six games. Historically, you haven’t scored that well. I’m coming over here to help you.”

  I caught her eyes again, and the buzzing in my ears roared back to life. Smith was worried.

  Wong turned to me and started speaking, although it took me a moment to parse through the sounds—partially because all sounds were hard, but partially because Wong’s diction was just as bad as mine had been before Mom helped me put together some optimization programs to help my auditory processing. It was hard to speak clearly when I wasn’t even sure what my own voice sounded like. I focused on making the sounds coming out of Wong’s mouth make sense. “Part of the turncoat exercise is to make us distrust one another—to drive us apart and make us reject help when we need it most for fear of being wrong. This team won’t fall for that trap.”

  I saw conviction in Wong’s eyes as surely as I’d seen the triumph in Smith’s, and let out a sigh. There was no winning this battle.

  “Alright. Now that that’s taken care of, I’m going to go out and seek Red’s flag. That’ll keep me out of your way, and doing something productive.”

  And out of our line of sight so she could spring an ambush on us when we least expected it.

  “I’ll go with you,” I said.

  Smith’ eyes widened, trying to project a sort of innocence, but she didn’t argue.

  “Let’s go, then,” she said, opening her arms wide to motion me in front of her.

  I chuckled. She couldn’t think I was that stupid, could she? “You first.”

  I shook the buzzing in my ears away and followed her down the path on the side of the tower.

  “Hey Farina,” Smith said, halfway down.

  I tensed, ready for an attack, but none came.

  “Yeah?”

  “I heard Burton tell you to stay out of the way, and I just wanted to let you know that she’s wrong. You don’t learn anything in this school except by trying. And yes, you’ll screw it up a few times, but that’s just part of the learning process.”

  I nodded. “If I see somewhere I can be useful, be sure that I’ll do anything I have to do to help my team.”

  If I’d sat out every single time someone had told me to stay out of the way, or that something I was trying was impossible, I would still be under Zachary’s thumb. When Smith tried her trick, I would be ready.

  As we finally finished the climb down the tower, Smith stopped. Her hands were down at her sides, deceptively calm. She turned, and I could see that her eyes were closed, behind that curtain of hair. She was ready for action. “Well, Farina, it looks like this is where we part.”

  I grit my teeth as I caught a glimmer of blue reflecting off one of the camera domes on the ceiling. If it wasn’t for the effort of tuning out that buzzing in my ears, I probably would have processed it sooner.

  Smith moved like lightning, a
nd before I knew it was raising her weapon. I pulled the visual feed from the walk down the stairs and marked the other Blues in my vision. Smith fired, but I wasn’t there. I tucked and rolled like Mr. West had shown earlier, recovered, and pinged the laser off the sensor in the center back of Smith’s suit. I ducked down behind cover a moment before two blue lasers converged where my front, heart sensor would have been. One and Two were between me and the tower, both behind cover. If I poked my head out, they would trip a sensor for sure.

  My lips curled into a grin as I spotted the dark domed camera with just enough light difference to be reflective. I brought the blue lines up across my vision, lifted the gun up to the correct angle, and bounced the laser off the camera.

  “What was that?” one of the blues shouted as her suit chimed and locked up. The second blue tried to rush out from cover.

  She thought I was a newbie—that I would be startled off my aim if she yelled loud enough.

  She was wrong, and then her suit was locked up tight.

  I checked the timer on their suits through the reflection on the camera and frowned. Their timers were set for the rest of the game. It was a good thing for this particular situation, but not so good for the game in general. Smith wasn’t the trade-over, and they also hadn’t been approached by anyone else or there would be one more person on their team with their suit unlocked, and their suit timers would be set for ten minutes, not twenty-two. We hadn’t been approached by anyone from Red, and neither had Blue. That meant no one from Red was the turncoat—which left Wong and Burton.

  Wong stealing the flag before she declared would be nearly useless because she wouldn’t get the points, which left—

  “Burton, are you unlocked yet?” I asked with an eye on the timer ticking down in the corner of my vision.

  “Yeah, I’m headed back with Red’s flag.”

  Liar. There should have been eighty-two seconds left on her timer.

  That settled it. Burton was the turncoat, and she was more than likely headed toward Yellow base. Only she didn’t have Red’s flag, she was coming for ours.

  I reached toward the com to let Wong know what I’d figured out, then stopped as my blue lines flashed for attention. They’d finished an analysis on Wong’s behavior—how she watched everyone’s lips, and had a hard time speaking clearly. Wong was hard of hearing—perhaps even deaf. All that would accomplish would be letting Burton know I’d figured her out.

  Without that information, though, Wong wouldn’t know what hit her.

  I bit my lip, and then hefted the laser gun. Burton was going to be pissed, but I had no intention of staying here Saturday, too.

  Chapter Nine

  Two lines on my vision flashed red as I spun in the air, avoiding the laser flashes by picometers. My aim was dead on. Both suits chimed and Burton let loose a string of words I was glad I wouldn’t remember. She went for her firearm in spite of the shock gained from her moving while she was locked down.

  A third line flashed red, and I kicked the weapon away. “Stay down, Burton, the game’s over in two seconds anyway.”

  Sure enough, the buzzer went off. Her rage washed over me and I shivered. I took a defensive position, but all she did when her suit lock clicked off was hiss.

  “Dang it, Farina, I told you my mother’s going to kill me!”

  Rhonda Miller, Red Team’s leader, only laughed. “That’s what you get for underestimating the recruit. Come on, don’t you have to go collect Wong?”

  Burton stalked off, and her rage went with her. I started to sigh in relief, but it turned into a hiss as the buzzing in my ears returned full-force. I plugged my ears, but it made no difference.

  “You alright?” Miller asked. “You aren’t an Auditory, are you? The first game can be a killer, what will all the gongs and dings.”

  “The only thing auditory about me is the Auditory Processing Disorder,” I snapped. The buzzing wasn’t going away, but this time I could at least hear through it.

  Then, all at once, it snapped off like a switch and I straightened.

  Miller’s eyes widened. “Oh. Dang, girl—why couldn’t I get you on my team?”

  “Could you hear that too?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not as loud as you could. Good luck, Farina, you’re going to need it.” Then she turned and jogged off.

  I followed her, albeit slower. What was that buzzing sound? Was it just over the entire field in sporadic bursts? It shouldn’t be a problem with my ears. In fact, if I was hearing it that loud, everyone else should have been complaining, too. What did Miller mean, that it wasn’t as loud for her?

  I stowed the problem away in the back of my mind as I stripped off the suit and stored it.

  Ms. King’s eyes were narrowed and unreadable as I walked through the door, but she didn’t stop staring at me for a long time. I shivered.

  Then she grinned. “That’s the first time a newbie has done that well, Farina. One flag retrieved, and six lockdowns. Truly impressive—I shall expect great things of you.”

  I ducked my head and muttered something to satisfy the ‘social niceties’ notification dancing around my vision. Then Ms. King looked around at the rest of the girls. “So what does that mean for all of you?”

  Velma Dean’s eyes were contemplative, but everyone else slumped just a little. “Detention.” Tabitha Smith was the one to say it, with her eyes glued firmly on the ground.

  “I am surprised at you,” she said. “Not one of you would rather pick another punishment?”

  There was silence, and then Velma Dean grinned. “I would rather skip the punishment, Ms. King. You never did lay out what it was, after all.”

  Tabitha’s head jerked up. “That’s right. What you said was, ‘I would like you all to note the time and the fact that none of you are seated.’ and then ‘On the bright side, we have a reward for our game today and an opportunity for extra training.’. You never said the losing teams would get detention.”

  The corner of Ms. King’s mouth lifted in approval. “Well done, both of you. Smith, see me after class, I think you’re ready for your assignment. Dean, I’ll let your martial focus teacher know you’re released from Friday’s detention. Everyone else gets to stay an extra day except Smith—who was already staying tomorrow and Saturday—and those declared with Blue.”

  Burton stepped forward slowly. “Ma’am, I would request that I receive extra training time next week in lieu of this week’s detention.”

  Ms. King inclined her head just barely. “You’ll stay both Friday and Saturday in that case.”

  Burton restrained her sigh. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  Ms. King nodded. “And what about that report I asked for at the beginning of class?”

  Burton frowned. “As far as I could tell, Miller, Farina, Smith, and I were the only ones running unlocked. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with some of the others, though.”

  Ms. King looked at me through narrowed eyes. “I see. Thank you, Burton. I’ll reduce your detention by another day. Now take a moment to record or remember what you learned in this class. We’ll have an oral quiz later in the week. After you’re done, class will be loosely dismissed. Please do not exit the room until the gong has rung.”

  Then she turned and hurried toward her office.

  When the door shut, I saw some of the girls jot things down on notepads. Others spelled things out with their hands, and others, like Tabitha Smith, just turned to talk to their neighbor. I watched Wong and her lipreading a moment before a lightbulb went off.

  Wong had similar, though likely worse, auditory issues than I did, and yet she was completely functional because of her lip-reading. If I could learn that skill, perhaps I wouldn’t have to write things down on my notebook nearly as often?

  I pulled up the visual of Ms. King’s instructions and focused my blue lines on lipreading. Su
re enough, the words showed up in blue just below her figure. I grinned and pocketed my notebook.

  The gong rang, and I hurried to my next class.

  Today was English with Mr. Barnes, and I watched the board—and his lips, when I could see them—carefully as I reviewed what had happened in Social History.

  What had Burton meant about ‘running unlocked’? And what did it mean that Rhonda Miller and Tabitha Smith had been running unlocked? As hard as I searched, though, I couldn’t find any answers.

  I made my way to Mr. West’s class, still lost in thought.

  Mr. West met me by the door. “I wanted to apologize about yesterday,” he said, still studiously avoiding my eyes.

  “You knocked me on my tail because I let my guard down. That was a lesson, and you are a teacher. The logic follows.”

  A smile started at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Now, I hear you have a ton of psychology homework you have to get done?”

  I nodded.

  “Instead of sitting out this period, like you did this morning, why don’t you go get caught up? If you rest today, I’ll make up the session during detention time tomorrow—which is better than handing you over to Ms. King the whole time, no?”

  I ducked my head in agreement even as I frowned at spending so many hours pouring over Psychology—and Sociology. “Thank you, sir.”

  As I left, I couldn’t help but wonder if the reason he wanted me out of his classroom was so that I didn’t have the chance to look in his eyes again.

  A nap did a lot to quell the headache that had been ever present almost from the moment I set foot in Martial Academy. I checked the alert that had woken me up, and sighed. Tournament started in ten minutes, and it was going to be between Smith and Houston. Part of me wanted to put my pillow over my head and just go back to sleep. No one would blame me for getting some extra sleep after the day I’d had—but I still put my shoes back on.

  It would be good to see what this Tournament was supposed to be when the teachers and Hunt weren’t focused on teaching someone a lesson.