The strap on my favorite canvas book bag broke as I struggled up the steps of the transport. I juggled to scan my pass and hold steady for the biometric as the vehicle careened around a corner. I grabbed a handhold hoping to spot an open seat. Midway down the aisle a dark boy lounged across a full bench. He had a familiar school crest on his uniform jacket so I trusted we headed to the same place.
I wormed my way closer hoping he would take the hint and gather himself up enough to grant me a perch. The transport jerked to a stop and I stumbled beyond my target. By the time I turned around two other boys had filled the spot. I leaned forward letting a curtain of long black hair hide my disappointed look.
The transport bumped along and when it stopped the three boys were out the doors before I even knew which stationed had been called. I hurried after them. I realized my mistake as soon as I reached the curb but too late to get back on the transport. The boys ignored my presence as they jogged across a broken patch of asphalt to a large sports complex. I pulled out a map to figure out how far it might be to the administration building. I wiped my sweaty hands on my skirt and tried to hold the map steady and I told myself to breath. Luckily one of the patrols spotted me and guided me in the right direction before my panic disabled me.
I felt better once I got to the office. Having been a new girl so many times before I knew the drill. A busy secretary shoved a stack of papers in my direction and told me to get my guardian to sign off of my schedule. "We waived your entrance examinations so you are on probation. Do well in the cores and we may reconsider advance placements. Now pop down to the health officer for your screens. Once you are clear, you can go to the study hall and your class president will come find you." The woman peered over her glasses. "Go along now. It's just to the left at the end of the hall," she shooed me away with both hands.
I only had a moment to brace myself for the fuss my scans would cause. The tek looked at the readings then took another sample. The same results had him rushing to the back office. Five minutes later he came back with the doctor. "We haven't seen a Gen3 here before. Thought they were all designated breeders. No sense waiting for them to finish school." The woman sized me up. "Oh. You must be too young," she stopped in her tracks.
"The youngest ever. A least that was what my mom used to say." I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Ah," she flipped through a few screens on her tablet, "Right. I thought you must be the Lansing's girl. I am sorry for your loss." Her comment sounded more perfunctory than sympathetic.
My parent's problematic stance on Proxima B, and their long insistence on its benign presence, had not been erased by their sacrifice. I had been conceived during their second spore collection mission and developed my immunities in utero. My father used to call me their little experiment and I was proud to be the secret source of the Gen2 vaccines but the breakthrough came too late for the city dwellers. Even in the face of near extinction my parents did not truly understand the dangers coming at our planet, but everything changed during their third mission.
After the containment fields failed, they finally understood the spores were the most lethal weapons in a decades long battle. Nobody welcomed their report, and their banishment to an abandoned space station deemed barely punishment enough. Then came the explosion and the inadvertent protection of the blood zone layer the government now struggled to replenish. I tried to block out the memories but the study hall offered few distractions.
"Hey newbie, glad to know you are not just another stalker trying to size us up as potential mates," one of the boys from the transport said as he approached. He grabbed my schedule off the top of the stack of papers I clutched, and snorted. He spun on his heels and I chased after him on the brisk tour of the classrooms on my schedule. I nearly crashed into his back when he stopped at the last door. "Junior Math" he said before striding off.
The only open seat was beside the arrogant boy from the transport. He insolently tipped back his chair, half flirting with a group of girls surrounding him. With their crisp white collars and the waistbands of their kilts rolled over enough to lift their skirts to mid-thigh the girls had to be the 'populars'. The ones who would not be caught dead in a baggy second-hand blazer and rumpled knee socks like mine. I cringed as I stumbled through introducing myself so took refuge in the worksheet the instructor dropped on my desk.
When the boy beside me leaned over to scan my answers the hairs on my arms stood at attention. "No, not possible," I thought but as a precaution, pricked the end of my thumb on my compass. When I lifted my bleeding hand out from under my desk the whole row of students cowered. A strange hissing came from beside me and I flicked the tiniest drop in that direction. A mass of boils erupted over the boy's face. I jumped back and sucked a bit more blood out of my thumb as a ready defense.
Alarms rang all over the school. The fully armed patrol triggered a containment field and led the un-infected to safety. Their captain saluted me, saying, "Well done, Agent Lucinda."
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Scribbles & Prompt Responses
Short StoryThis is a place for short stories and other experiments. Some of these are responses to prompts and/or suggestions from other sites. Nothing too serious.
