Under Fire (Warriors: S1B2)

Chapter 9

Earth date: 09/12/11, 15:50

"And that's what happened," Frazz finished.

The team was in the medical bay, around a bed where Kristi laid, still suited up. 

Mr. Cole stood over Kristi and pulled something from his back pocket. He tapped behind Kristi's ear, and her helmet retracted. He held a small baggie over her face and cracked it open. Even a few feet away, I could smell ammonia. She coughed and rolled over.

Her eyes snapped open, and she leaped off the bed. "What is that?" she demanded. She stopped as she took in where she was. "What's going on? How did we get back here? We were with Xax and then..."

"You were attacked," Mr. Cole said. "And your attackers have Xax and Umowoe."

"So? Let's go after them!"

"You can't."

"What do you mean, we can't? We know where Xax is! We can teleport and get him!"

"I'm sorry to tell you, Kristi, but that's not how it works. You have an idea of where he was, but no clue where he is now."

"So we can search for him."

"No, no you can't."

"Why not?" Joey said.

"Because the more you teleport, the higher the chance there is of molecular displacement."

There was silence as gears turned.

Mr. Cole filled in the blanks for us. "The process of teleportation involves the deconstruction, transportation and reconstruction of your molecular structure. Even with the needed technology, that's a complicated process. The less time between a teleport, the more likely that not all of your molecules will go where you want them to."

"What do you mean, 'not go where we want them to?'" Margaret said.

"I mean, teleport to somewhere in Mariner Grove and part of you could end up somewhere else. A finger in Mexico City. An eyeball in Istanbul. If you're really unlucky, you could have your upper half make it where you want to go and your bottom half end in Los Angeles."

Daphne's face wrinkled in disgust.

"I want to find the Pycanthropes as much as you do," Mr. Cole assured us. "But I also want you safe. And right now, I can either have one or I can have the other. The moment we get a hint as to where the Pycanthropes are, I'll tell you. But for now, go home."

Earth date: 09/12/11, 16:00

I walked in the door and walked straight for my mom and dad. They were sat at the dinner table, clearly ready to tear into me. I paused my walk to say, "Who picked up Aimee and Rob?"

"Jason did," Mom said. "Jay, take a seat."

"I didn't pick up Aimee and Rob because I was getting dog-piled by mind-controlled black bears and then rode a missile, and I did all this to protect fire-breathing werewolves." I waited until the confusion was apparent on their faces before saying, "I'll be in the basement."

Down in the basement, I dropped my backpack on the floor and went to the case of albums. I put on Joni Mitchell's Blue and sat down to do homework. 

Someone knocked on the door as Joni finished "The Last Time I Saw Richard"'s piano solo. I took the needle off the record and said, "It's open."

The door opened, and Margaret poked her head in. "Hey."

"Hey."

She held up a manila folder. "Class notes from Mrs. Avery. We didn't have homework in her class today."

I took the folder from her and flipped through it. 

"Who were you listening to?"

"Joni Mitchell. Felt right, you know?" I looked up from Mrs. Avery's notes, but Margaret wasn't looking at me. She was looking around the room, taking in the guitars and the box of records and all of the posters on the walls.

"Is this stuff yours?" she asked.

I nodded to the guitar. "The bass is mine. The records and posters are my dad's." 

She flipped through the box of records. "Margaret, do you need something?"

She looked up from the records. "Nope. Needed to drop that off. See you tomorrow." She walked to the door, but paused before closing it. "Jay, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"You know..." She tapped her watch three times, and it grew into her device.

I shrugged. "Because this..." I triple-tapped my own watch and let it expand. "...isn't going away. And neither is this." I slapped a palm under the bottom of the table and pushed, and the table lifted off the ground like it weighed as much as a lunch tray. "Might as well do something good with it. Why are you?"

She looked at the table I held off the ground, then at the device on my wrist, then at me. "I'm not sure."

She turned and left. I took another look at my math worksheet, then grabbed my bass and traded my homework for Beatles sheet music.