3.6.

The ship did not come out of the hyperatomic plane. It came not from above this universe, but from the side. From the slipstream, the sideways realm where particles had their spin turned kittywompus.

There was no light in the slipstream, and there was no speed limit for particles. But there was matter, and it was nearly impossible to detect, making traveling through the slipstream incredibly dangerous as the traveler was subject to crashing into invisible masses of planetoids and get pulled into rushing rapids of energy.

It wasn’t illegal to travel in the slipstream, it was just strongly recommended that anyone who dared to do so have their head examined.

The primary advantage of this sideways universe where there was no speed limit, aside from the ability to go very, very fast, was that there was no way to detect travel through it from the material universe.

Meaning that when the Tumbaruna Toko emerged from the slipstream in center of the six space stations, it was completely undetected.

With its stealth activated, it evaluated the accuracy of its intelligence. After thirty minutes of study, they concluded that this cluster of stations in the dark between stars was a key reinforcement point for the Rosantean navy.

It was a valid target. This was not a civilian habitation ring, it was a military base.

Without dropping stealth, they fired their weapons.

One torpedo struck the nearest station. Rather than exploding, it turned to sludge. The sludge got everywhere, on every thing and every one. The people affected screamed in terror as the vehicles and walls around them turned to sludge, but the nanites covering them did not eat their flesh.

Not that it mattered, as soon the entire station was a formless mass, and the kindness of the weapons munition who designed the weapon not to eat people was irrelevant as the dead were just as dead from exposure to the void.

Three stations were raked with the plasma lance and kirata beam, wiping their computer systems and slicing them clean in half. One of them suffered a reactor breach and burst into nuclear fire.

Missile struck the other two. They exploded, but seemed to deal only superficial damage.

The Tumbaruna Toko abruptly vanished once more through the slipstream. The survivors clustered in their lifepods and shelters as they waited for the end of their lives, unaware at first that their attackers had spared them.

Then they returned to work, beginning to assess and repair the damage.

Unaware of the subtle way the scorch marks from the missiles were slowly expanding, covering more and more of the exterior of the station with a small black film.

Ships docked and people were evacuated.

The film got on their hulls.

The nanite infection began to spread throughout the secure locations of the Rosantean fleets.

~~~~~~

The principal sat behind the desk. Olivia sat in the chair in front of it. She suppressed the feeling like she had been called here for misbehavior. This was a parent-teacher meeting, and it was a preemptive one before the student had even begun classes.

It was Saturday, and the school was empty except for them and the proctor who was giving John his placement exams in a nearby classroom. The principal adjusted his glasses and read the reports. Olivia gave him the time to do so, although she was secretly annoyed. She’d filed those reports a week ago, and he was only reading them now?

“I see,” the principal said when. “Well, you did apply for special consideration to bypass our usual application process and you do have diplomatic status. Serving the children and family of our diplomatic community is a role that we take pride at here at Brentwood Preparatory School.”

“Yes. He is directly related to one of the key diplomats from Yonohoah,” she agreed.

“And that fact is being taken into account, even as … unusual as it is,” the principal said. “However, the aspect that has me most concerned is the boy’s history of violence.”

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“John has a firm control of his anger. He was trained as a child soldier and was once capable of extreme violence in the pursuit of his mission. He is adjusting well to his new reality as a normal child. He hasn’t hurt anyone since he arrived on Earth.”

“That’s not exactly true. He fired upon officers who were attempting to bring him in,” the principal argued. “I’ve seen the videos on the news myself.”

Olivia cursed the media. Those videos of John in his armor had been sensational and everywhere in the aftermath of the confrontations. “He utilized non-lethal weaponry to avoid inflicting casualties. He believed that he was on a mission with wide spread implications that might affect billions of lives.”

“So he has delusions of grandeur?” the principal asked.

“No. Other versions of him truly have been sent on those sorts of missions. Do not forget that he is a clone of an elite child soldier who served for millennia . He was disoriented and confused after spending what we think is thousands of years in stasis,” she explained.

The principal sighed. “If it were the child telling me these things I’d know how to handle it. Instead it’s the government that’s making extraordinary claims. Doctor Nunes, you must understand, the last two schools that this child went to were raided by the FBI. Am I really suppose to subject Brentwood to that sort of liability?”

Olivia sighed. John was going to be so disappointed. He liked the uniform of Brentwood and was already looking forward to it. It suited his personality to have a uniform to wear.

“On the other hand, that was before his situation was all out in the open,” the principal admitted. He scratched his nose and considered the matter. “And it would be a point of distinction to be the first school to educate a Yonohoan.”

Olivia remained silent, wishing that the man would simply make up his mind one way or the other.

After a moment, the man shrugged. “We’ll wait to see how he does on the placement exams before making any firm decisions. If he is extremely remedial, perhaps a private education setting would be more suitable for him until he catches up to where he should be.”

“Thank you for the consideration, sir, but it’s really the socialization that John needs at this time more than anything else,” Olivia argued. “He is highly intelligent and extremely skilled in math and science. He is perhaps remedial in social studies and literature, but that’s to be expected from an extraterrestrial who comes from a completely alien culture.”

“Let us wait until the test scores are tallied,” the principal repeated.

So they waited.

~~~~~~

John placed the pencil down on the desk. He’d finished the test in half the allotted time. He also knew exactly how well he’d done.

He’d gotten every math and science question right.

He’d failed everything else.

He sighed. He stood up and went to the front of the classroom, handing his test to the proctor.

The adult looked at him in surprise. “You thirty minutes left for the final section, son.”

“You’re not my father, don’t call me son,” John snapped before he could stop himself. He frowned. Family ties were important, one should not simply throw them about like that.

The man looked unimpressed. “Go sit down and finish your test.”

“I have finished. I’ve answered the questions. There’s no point in waiting until we run out of time because my results won’t change,” John pointed out.

“Go sit down,” the man repeated, a little bit of an edge in his voice.

I could kill him , John thought suddenly. Three different ways of ending the man’s life given nothing more than the supplies in the room came to him.

He returned to his seat and stared out the window until the end of the hour.

~~~~~~~

They would find out the results tomorrow. On the car ride home, John confessed to Olivia about the violent impulses which he’d grappled with. She drove slowly, and they talked in detail about the difference between thought and action.

John hadn’t acted on his thoughts, and so they were okay. He probably would have thoughts like that from time to time, she informed him. He should acknowledge them as part of himself and then put them aside.

John stared out the window. He understood that much already. He hadn’t wanted to kill the man. The ways that he could do so had just come to him in that moment unbidden.

He looked down at his hands, flexing them then making a fist.

He might not be any stronger than the average twelve year old anymore.

But he was still dangerous.

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