Battlefield (Book One)

Chapter Five - Alan

The descent to Earth was much more dramatic than his return to the ship. Of course, he also didn't need to use the same methods of traveling to go back. One of Alan's abilities allowed him to teleport. Going places he was familiar with was always easiest. Back home, he'd used it often to sneak out to meet his love in the days before the war. Very convenient once he got over the technical issues behind it. Like the loud bang noise he made if he traveled too far or too many times in a day. Or how he couldn't travel to an area without having been there before. It's why he had to take the deployment pod down to Earth in the first place.

"How was your trip?" Sir Oriol said coolly from the entrance of the departure hall. All incoming and outgoing travel took place through there. Alan didn't have to use it for his return to the ship, but he did so out of courtesy to his crew—a courtesy he was now regretting.

Alan saluted his senior officer. "Good, Sir."

"At ease." Sir Oriol smirked at him, and Alan knew it wouldn't be good. "I heard you made quite the entrance."

"My information was incorrect," Alan mumbled. "The data I had been given stated the area would be a construction site, not an intact building. I was able to explain my arrival effectively to my charges."

"There are members of our tribe already in the area who were able to smooth things over with the proper authorities."

Alan bristled slightly, because it was another detail he hadn't thought of and Sir Oriol was glaringly aware of it by now. "My charges seem promising."

"What powers did they display after their unlocking?"

"There weren't any immediate results."

The smirk on Sir Oriol's face slowly morphed into a menacing snarl. "And you just left them there?"

"I was told that would be fine," Alan countered. "In orientation we were told—"

"They do not have anyone to go to except for you about their abilities. The people of this planet are not advanced in this area of science! It isn't like back home where a parent knows the signs to watch for to prevent dangerous explosions of power!" Sir Oriol smashed his fist into his hand, no doubt imagining it was Alan's face. "Orientation instructed you to monitor them until their powers arrived."

Slowly, Alan took in a breath, determined to not snap at his commanding officer. "I am. I have surveillance of them in my grasp at this moment, in fact." He pulled out a small screen that fit into the palm of his hand. With it, he could toggle between watching his three charges. While they hadn't introduced themselves to him, he caught onto their names through eavesdropping. Rather than point out their rudeness, he'd let it slide. Given how he literally crashed into their lives, he supposed they were even.

"When they touched the Wimosiphyer, I also used Genetic Imprinting to mark their DNA for the ship to lock onto for observation," Alan continued. He watched Sir Oriol relax, though only slightly. "It didn't seem wise to confiscate them, nor do I think they all would have agreed to that. One of them in particular seems to be stubborn. Rather than start things off on the wrong foot, I thought it best to give them space."

The frown Sir Oriol wore deepened. "Staring off further on the wrong foot, you mean. Your carelessness is exactly why I didn't want you to have charges to begin with. You aren't anywhere near as experienced as the other officers who have taken them on. Even Sir Tuliyogljaes, who is your age, is far more knowledgeable in how to handle this task. We are in a delicate situation. One wrong step and our entire mission will be blown. Do you want us to lose this battlefield too?"

"Of course not!"

"I wonder, given who you are betrothed to..."

The implication made Alan queasy. "Her political views are not my own."

"Do not blame me for wondering. Your father's beliefs also leave me questioning as well." Sir Oriol's tone dripped with such disdain, it startled Alan. He knew they didn't get along, but not to such a degree. Nor did Alan know why, though he suspected it had everything to do with Sir Oriol's statement.

How should Alan respond? He pressed his lips together. "I've always been a free thinker, one who makes my own decisions. It's one of the many areas of conflict between my father and me. You can interpret that however you wish." He bowed. "I apologize, Sir, but the journey has left me more tired than I anticipated. While I'm greatly experienced in cross-atmospheric teleportation, I'm a little more rusty with it than I thought I would be. With your permission, I would very much like to go back to my quarters to rest."

For a long moment, Sir Oriol peered at Alan. At last he said, "Yes, of course. By all means, go rest. I expect a full report from you soon about the status of your charges."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Alan wasn't actually tired, but he'd use any excuse he could get to leave. On his way, he pulled up all three feeds for his charges and studied them closely. The one called Orlando was already exhibiting a physical ability. He watched as the teen boy used telekinesis in the dining room of his home. Orlando seemed startled, though a lot more calm than most others in his position would have been. The other two were back in their homes as well. JD in his bedroom, and Cadence in her den, or was it a kitchen? Her living space was much smaller than those of the boys' so it was hard to decipher. Neither exhibited anything worth noting.

After a few minutes passed, Orlando used his phone, soon all three were on their phones and Alan realized they were talking to one another. This could work! This could actually work! The thought left him excited and hopeful for the first time since he left Altura.