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Part 3 Lukas held the semi-automatic pistol in his hands, getting the feel of the weapon. Target practice was his favourite part of the day, hands down. He liked guns; he liked the way they felt in his hands, like an extension of his arm. He was an excellent shot, probably the best the Institute had at the moment, and the firearms teachers were starting to come to HIM for pointers. He carefully checked to make sure there wasn't a clip in the gun, then poked a finger into the chamber to ensure there wasn't a bullet there. Sure, the instructors double-checked the weapons before handing them out to the students. But that didn't mean there wasn't a dummy round - or even a live round - waiting in the chamber for a careless student to miss. And that was a damned good way to get yourself assigned to scrubbing out the mess hall with a toothbrush. Having satisfied himself that the gun was safe, he then proceeded to wipe the oil from the barrel and moving parts with a soft white cloth provided for that purpose. The students were expected to know how to care for their weapons, and how to fix them if they ever malfunctioned. That was more of a concern with the sub-machine guns and fully automatic weapons, of course, but every weapon deserved the same amount of care and attention. That done, he loaded up the clip, as well as a spare. Thirty bullets total, and if you needed more than that in a firefight you were screwed anyway, because you should have brought heavier guns. They were practicing shooting on the run today, and the instructors were going to be firing paint pellets from the sides of the field as they ran. Their targets were more than a hundred yards away, painted life-like figures of police, military, and even civilians, which would be knocked down by the force of the bullets. You got two points for every 'kill', meaning a head or heart shot, and one for a hit to a non-vital area. You also got points taken off if you hit a civilian, or if the instructors hit you, depending on where the shots landed. There were still two people ahead of him in line. He waited his turn, bouncing on the balls of his feet to stay warmed up. They'd all just come off the endurance obstacle course, so he was more than limber enough for this. He had to smirk at that - he'd scored a personal best time on the course today, shaving nearly three whole seconds off his previous best. His long-limbed gawkiness was finally transforming itself into something useful. Lukas watched as Long Xia, a teleporter from Hong Kong, ran the gauntlet. They were being permitted to use their powers in this run - they trained equally with and without powers. That wasn't much help for a telepath like Lukas in this situation - but the telekinetics and teleporters had a serious advantage. Xia's control was fine enough that she could dodge the paint bullets simply by not BEING there when they hit her. Then a fraction of a second later she'd phase back in, fire a couple of shots, and disappear again before the instructors could target her. She made the run in good time, and hit about eighty percent of the right targets. She only hit a 'civvie' twice. Probably one of her better runs. After her was Richard, an ebony-skinned boy from somewhere deep in the Belgian Congo. 'Richard' wasn't his real name, of course - but none of the other students could pronounce the odd collection of clicks, whistles and glottal stops that comprised his name, so he'd chosen something easier for them. Richard was one of the micro-kinetics, which wasn't going to help him much here. It took him considerably longer than Xia to get to the other side of the course, and he took several hits from the paintballs. He also didn't hit nearly as many of the targets - but then again, he was only eleven, and he'd been here just two years. He'd get better with practice. Now it was Lukas' turn, and he braced himself at the start line. As much as he loved target practice, this particular incarnation of it was not his favourite. No matter how he twisted and dodged and wove, the instructors seemed to get him with every bloody shot. Sure, he hit every one of the targets, and never once hit a 'civvie'... but his score still sucked. Last time Dekane, the head instructor for firearms, had told him that if he didn't improve his score by at least ten percent, he was going to be sent back a level in firearms class. How embarrassing! The countdown started, and he adjusted his grip on the pistol. At 'go', his body was instantly in motion, feet pounding into the packed sand of the practice ground. Part of him was completely dedicated to aiming his gun and squeezing the trigger, and he saw with delight that his score there was going to be perfect, as usual. Another piece of his attention was fixed on the instructors' minds, trying to feel when they were going to shoot, hoping that would help him evade the pellets. It was a tactic he'd tried before, and it wasn't working any better this time than it had in previous attempts. He cursed aloud as three pellets hit him in quick succession, one just barely missing the disqualifying heart shot. His redhead's temper boiled over, and he snarled as he quit trying to anticipate the instructors. Instead he decided to take the offensive to THEM. They were allowed to use their powers, weren't they? Well, Lukas' Gift lay in manipulating the human mind. So he twisted, just a little, shifting their perceptions of him until they couldn't quite be certain of where he was. The paint pellets started spraying wildly around him, everywhere but where he was. Laughing aloud in delight, he finished the course without another shot hitting him. Perfect score on the targets, near-perfect on dodging. Once past the finish line, he waited, slightly out of breath, for Dekane to give him the official results. Dekane was staring at him in disbelief. "What the hell did you just do?" he demanded roughly. Lukas shrugged. "I convinced them I was where I wasn't," he replied flippantly. "Or that I wasn't where I was. Take your pick." The head instructor stalked over to him, checking him over for the bright red splashes of paint that signified a hit by the instructors. He found only the original three shots. "Can you repeat that?" he asked the younger boy, squinting down at him. Lukas concentrated for a brief moment, convincing Dekane's mind that he was standing perfectly still in front of him. Then he darted around to the man's back, and slapped him on the shoulder, letting go of the mental twist at the same moment. Dekane spun around, startled, to see Lukas laughing behind him. "I didn't see you move," the heavy-set man breathed in astonishment. "Phillipe! What was his run time?" he barked to the instructor with the stopwatch. "Two point four seconds slower than usual, boss," the Brazilian clairvoyant replied. "If I wasn't holding the watch, I wouldn't believe it, though. I swear he moved twice that fast." Lukas was startled. He'd only meant to affect the impressions of the two instructors firing at him - but from the awed looks on the other student's faces, he managed a great deal more than that. He mulled that over for a long moment, pleased. The possibilities to this were nearly endless, once he'd practiced at it. If someone couldn't tell when and where he was coming from, they wouldn't be able to hit him. "Were you all shielded?" Dekane asked the two instructors manning the guns. Both nodded, and he turned back to Lukas. "Well, boy, it seems there are some uses to your ability that we hadn't counted on." He clasped Lukas on the shoulder, his version of high praise. Lukas felt himself flush with pleasure. "And your usual excellent job of shooting. Good work, boy. I'm moving you up a level - next class you work with the advanced group, understand?" Lukas nodded, eyes shining. At just over fourteen, he normally wouldn't have been promoted into that class for another two years. The instructors at the Institute didn't believe in holding back a child for formalities, however. This would increase his standing among the other students considerably. "In the meantime," Dekane continued, the gleam in his eyes showing that he was well aware of Lukas' pleasure, "you need to get a handle on this new ability of yours. I want you to clean and rack your pistol, then report to Instructor Emanuel. Now git!" He shoved Lukas' shoulder, sending him off in the direction of the armoury. Lukas trotted back to the gunroom, feeling like his feet shouldn't even be touching the ground he was flying so high. Emanuel was the instructor for the advanced telepathic classes, the one-on-ones. Up until now Lukas had been studying with all the other telepaths in the Institute in a group, and only the older students got private training in addition. Promoted to two advanced classes in one day! Brad would be proud of him. That thought sobered him a little. Brad had been gone six months, and Lukas found himself aching for the other boy's company. There was no one else here that he was close to, COULD be close to. Sometimes, late at night when they were supposed to be sleeping, he would send his mind out, questing for Brad's familiar mental touch. That had worked for the first few days, as Brad was traveling overland across Europe. But once the older boy had gotten most of the way across the Atlantic, they had lost that tenuous contact. Half a world was too far for even someone as powerful as Lukas to reach, but that didn't stop him from trying. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about that kiss, either. The feelings it had woken in him refused to be put back to rest, and he'd had some embarrassing moments in the mornings, waking to find his sheets sticky. This was what the sex-ed instructor had referred to as 'wet dreams', he could only surmise. He hadn't understood the term at the time, but now... He'd also wondered if only Brad could produce those feelings. Feeling a little like he was betraying his friend, he'd set out to experiment. He discovered that he liked kissing girls about as much as he liked kissing guys, but neither of his two other experiences were half as strong as what he'd felt when Brad kissed him. Finally he decided to wait until he was with Brad again for further experimentation. Not that he expected Brad to be 'faithful' to him - he knew from the older boys' talk that men had needs that had to be filled. That was fine - Lukas didn't care what Brad did when he wasn't there, so long as Lukas got to be the center of his attention eventually. He cleaned his gun with lightning speed, though he was careful not to miss a single step in the process. It would be silly for him to fall flat on his face now, after such praise. Dekane was his favourite instructor, and Lukas knew from reading his mind that he was Dekane's favourite student, though the instructors weren't supposed to show favouritism. Humming an old German song he vaguely remembered from his childhood, he trotted down the hall to the wing that housed the classrooms. Sending his mind out briefly, he quested for the thread that was 'Emanuel', and found him in one of the shielded classrooms with another student. Ordinarily the heavy shielding on the room would prevent someone outside from being able to touch the minds of anyone inside, but it was no match for Lukas' strength. Sensing that the current lesson was about to come to an end, he waited patiently outside the door to the room. The longer he stood there, the more he began to get a disquieting feeling that all was not right. He couldn't quite put his finger on the source, but it was clearly emanating from the study room. It crept into his mind like fog through a window, making him edgy and a little frightened. Hastily he threw up some of his stronger shields, and was relieved when they successfully blocked the sensation from his mind. But what could be causing it? Lukas stared at the door, wondering if something terrible had gone wrong, and both the instructor and student inside were in trouble. He was just debating picking the lock and going in, when the door abruptly opened and a lithe form flew out. It was Arun, the Pakistani telepath whose mind had accidentally trapped Lukas' during one of his first lessons in shielding. Both boys had avoided each other as much as possible after that, each uncomfortable with the knowledge that the other knew everything there was to know about him, including his deepest secrets; but Lukas knew Arun well enough to know that something was wrong. The golden-skinned boy had a blank expression on his face, but his eyes were full of something deep and terrifying. Lukas hesitantly reached out to touch the other teen's mind, and pulled back immediately at the wave of self-loathing and revulsion that he touched. "Arun..." he trailed off, not certain what to say. Arun started, and whirled to stare at him, as if he had only just noticed Lukas' presence. "Lukas," he whispered, voice trembling with some suppressed emotion. "What are you doing here?" "I... Dekane said I should report to Instructor Emanuel," he replied hesitantly, not liking the way Arun's eyes darkened as he spoke. "I've manifested some new side effects, and he wants me to learn to control them better..." Arun shook his head, and leaned forward to embrace him. Lukas stiffened in shock and panic - Arun of all people knew how much he hated to be touched, and understood why... *Lukas, my friend, may Allah be with you,* the other telepath's voice echoed in his mind. Lukas had to fight with everything he had to keep from being pulled into the other boy's mind entirely - the raging storm of emotions there was like nothing he'd ever felt before. There had been nothing even remotely similar to this in Arun's mind that day they had gotten locked together - whatever was causing it, it had happened here, in the Institute. Then the older boy was gone, vanishing down the hallway in a kind of defeated slink. Lukas stared after him, seriously disturbed by what he'd seen and the implications of it. But what could possibly have damaged Arun that badly? He became aware of another telepathic presence beside him, tightly shielded. He turned and looked up to see Instructor Emanuel looming over him, frowning slightly. "Lukas, what are you doing here?" he asked, and Lukas felt the mental probe at his shields as the man tried to read him. He deflected it automatically, hardly registering the effort. "Instructor Dekane said I should see you, sir," he answered politely. "I've manifested a new side effect of my power - I can convince people that I'm not where I am, so they can't hit me." "Is that so?" Emanuel raised one dark eyebrow, registering mild interest. "I'm scheduled for another class right now, but I have an hour free opposite your ordinary telepathy class. Come see me then." The Greek man dismissed him by the simple expedient of turning away and going back into the shielded practice room. Lukas was a little put off by his manner - this was a major achievement for him, and Dekane had certainly seemed excited by it. Then again, from the little he'd seen of Emanuel, nothing really excited the man at all. He turned back down the hall, figuring he might as well use the bit of free time he had to study up before class. As he walked he tried hard to shake the bad feeling that had settled over him. You're not a precog, he told himself sternly, feeling oddly as though he had a target painted right in the center of his back. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Quit thinking about it! Long after lights out that night, the image of Arun's dark, haunted eyes stayed with him, keeping him awake. What could have caused it? | |
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