November 28th—09:00 a.m. — (local time)—Old District, Tokyo
Completing his appraisal of Angelika Papadakos’ report submitted the previous week; Lei Yeung couldn’t help but express his vexation by mulling over recent global headlines in his head. As was usual when feeling aggravated, he verbalized his thoughts aloud.
“It’s to be expected, I suppose, but we had to try.
“There’s no conceivable way they could achieve that level of technology and reach that degree of professional erudition without some kind of indoctrination or other conditioning within their training regimen. How else would their demigod overseers ensure the hive of worker bees behaved like good little drones? The thing is, they can’t all be that committed, that devoted. It’s not natural!
“I mean, look at my beloved Council. While most of them are dark-hearted through and through, many are still quite straight-laced in comparison to the stone cold killers like Angelika and Sebastian…or Alexander come to that. They follow a code. And for all our idiosyncrasies, none of us could be said to be automatons, incapable of expressing our own preferences and opinions. Luigi Espasito’s tantrum during the last board meeting aside, that’s what helps us thrive…most of the time.
“No, the fault is mine. I should have anticipated such obstacles and formulated a better strategy for our initial approach. They won’t be caught off guard like that again,” he sighed, glumly, “still, at least we know where they stand.”
Savoring his favorite Daiginjo-shu sake, Yeung spent a few minutes reviewing his options. The elegantly light and complex blend of herbs and spices were quite aromatic and always managed to soothe him when he needed to chew things over.
As he sipped his drink, Yeung’s attention was drawn to the banners of several of the newspapers in the pile on his desk, some of which highlighted the dismal failure of the Costa Rican crime boss Luis Plazas, and his ill-conceived attack on the Guardian Angels.
Plazas was due to appear in court the following day for an initial listing of a trial date, and his attendance had been vouchsafed by superhuman escorts. Escorts, Yeung was sure, who would guarantee proceedings were conducted with a minimum of fuss.
Skimming the article, Yeung couldn’t help but stifle a morbid laugh. What have you done, you naïve fool? How short sighted, to imagine they would be that easily slain. All you’ve managed is to speed the day our lifestyle and all its extravagances are brought crashing down around us…hang on?
Wheels within wheels commenced turning within the deepest recesses of his intellect. Smiling to himself, he thought, why are the most obvious, simple things hidden under our noses? That’s the path we need to follow. It will mean change, but we’ll still maintain our power base, our influence, and we’ll be in the perfect position to take advantage of those changes when they come.
Feeling pleased with himself, Yeung turned his attention back to Angelika’s report. Perusing it pages, he had to admit, there were positives in there if you looked.
For example, he now knew the Guardian Angels were not invulnerable. They could be hurt, killed even. And while it would be difficult to catch them with their guard down, time might make them complacent. Additionally, it was clear that the easier targets would be those less experienced individuals among their ranks who were still undergoing some degree of training.
Cogs, intricate and complex joined the wheels, spinning over and over in their own unique fashion.
“So, if we can’t entice them, we can at least be alert for opportunities to ensnare those who aspire to such dizzying heights of magnanimity.”
The gears whirred faster.
“That’s a point! How do they select their new members? It’s not as if they can hold recruitment drives at local colleges and universities. So, how do they discover those with gifts? They have better resources than we do, that’s for sure. But how are such ones singled out and traced? And once they’ve got them, where do they go? They clearly don’t reside in some hippy style commune?”
Yeung realized he stood on the cusp of learning something invaluable.
Ruminating internally, he continued, And thinking of locations, where do they operate from? They obviously don’t pop into the office on a nine-to-five basis, so how do they report in? Simple logistics would suggest it would be some place exclusive. Somewhere huge and spread out to cater to the many resources at their disposal.
Is it land based or underground? Something orbital, perhaps? Or, more likely, a combination of all three? They do seem to pop up everywhere?
An alarm chimed in the back of his mind that gave him pause.
What was that I read, oh, about a month ago now in one of those Sunday magazine supplements from Britain? Something about the very first public contact being made in a small English town where a boy’s life was saved?
The more he thought about it, the more Yeung realized that was a pivotal event.
Yes…it was their opening gambit. But why there? And why that child?
Tossing down the rest of his sake, Yeung put in a direct call to one of his people in London without giving a thought to the time difference.
The phone began to ring.
Retrospect can bring a refreshingly new way of approaching obstacles that you don’t fully appreciate until you’d tasted defeat.
A voice answered.
“Aah, David,” Yeung began, warmly, “I do hope I’m not disturbing you? There’s a little task I’d like you to perform for me. This one’s easy. Think of it as a spot of intelligence gathering, if you will . . . .”
*
November 29th—2:00 p.m. (GMT + 12 hours)—somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
The extraordinary group of people gathered within the main conference room of the heavily cloaked and shielded Guardian Training Academy was something of an enigma, for although they represented a broad spectrum of humanity, all appeared equally youthful. Even the most attentive individual would have been hard-pressed to guess their real ages.
That they were united by a common cause and the grandest of undertakings was clearly evident, albeit the atmosphere within the spacious chamber seemed rather tense.
Tramping up and down in front of the panoramic floor to ceiling window overlooking the rolling expanse of the Pacific Ocean, the athletically built blond-haired woman especially, did little to hide her agitation.
Not five minutes previously, she had been enjoying a particularly vigorous aerobics session before receiving the telepathic flare summoning her to attend this, a meeting of divisional heads – or as they were commonly addressed in Guardian circles – Lords.
Those same circles referred to her, Corrine Jackson, with deep affection as the Lord Healer, head and chief physician of perhaps the most respected department they had.
Fiercely loyal and devoted to her calling and its ideals, she possessed the strongest therapeutic faculty ever encountered in one person. Such a gift, together with her driving passion for excellence, made her the ideal motivating force behind one of their busiest wings.
And at this moment, it was evident Corrine was feeling exceedingly motivated.
Static charges snapped along the length of her ponytail as she paced. Still dressed in the spandex sweatsuit she preferred to wear during heavy workouts, Corrine clutched a good half dozen copies of the latest tabloids from around the world in her fists. Devouring the headlines, she threw each snippet into a crumpled pile on the floor as she finished with them.
All except the last one, that is.
Brandishing it like an accusation, she turned to her superior, fixed him with her electric blue eyes, and in an accusatory tone, declared, “So, are you still confident we’ve done the right thing, Earl? I said this would happen, didn’t I? People will start relying on us every time there’s a minor accident or every time they encounter the slightest problem. They’ll turn to us, and they’ll keep turning to us without bothering to consider whether it’s an actual crisis or not.”
She gestured to a bank of flat screen televisions lining the inner wall of the conference room itself, each depicting breaking news scoops from over a dozen countries around the planet. “See, it’s getting out of hand.”
“Isn’t that the objective we set out to achieve, Corrine?” Earl Foster replied. Otherwise known as the Lord Marshal – though it had never been explained why his rank was spelt that way – Earl was second-in-command of the Guardians and chairman of the hastily convened meeting. At well over six feet tall, this muscular powerhouse of a man, with his dark skin and close-cropped black hair, was one of the most imposing persons you would ever meet. “They needed to know we exist, at last, and what it is we do. Of course they’re going to react this way…initially.”
Meeting the Lord Healer’s gaze, he waited patiently for her to fight down her ire and motioned for her to take a seat with the others.
Corrine countered by slapping the article down onto the table in front of him. Standing tall, she pointed to it and snapped, “That’s all well and good, but are we really ready to do this? Look what they’re saying.”
The title proclaimed: Is there nothing the Guardian Angels cannot do?
She threw her arms in the air, and bewailed, “We‘re talking about global cover, for goodness sake, and it’s my healers who will bear the brunt in any disaster where lives are lost or people are hurt because we weren’t quite quick enough to respond. In fact, it’s already started happening because we’re playing nanny instead of doing what we’re meant to do. Ask Anil—we’ve only just got enough manpower to cope with the real disasters as it is, let alone all this…this other stuff.”
Composing herself, Corrine projected a psychic overview of some of the more mundane incidents duty crews had been inundated with in recent weeks during the Guardians drive to introduce themselves to humankind. Next, she reminded her colleagues of the well publicized attempt by a South American crime lord to wipe out a full Alpha Response Team off the coast of Costa Rica earlier that month. Then, she went on to stress pertinent details from the Lord Evaluator’s memorandum relating to the ineffective attempts by an unknown faction of gifted individuals to recruit some of their number.
The Lord Evaluator – Anil Suresh – head of Active Operations and third in the Guardian chain of command sat quietly nearby. Turning to him, Corrine mentally invited Anil to express his opinion and back her up, before finally emphasizing her growing frustration by throwing herself down on the couch next to him.
Stolen story; please report.
Anil Suresh could best described as a coiled spring of a man. A man always serene, but who held himself like a cobra, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. And no matter how relaxed he appeared, he always seemed able to drink in the details of everything taking place around him.
Lean almost to the point of being anorexic, his snakelike reflexes were matched by a lightning-slick mind. He had been listening to the exchange and sipping tea from a bone china cup, the saucer balanced on his crossed legs, until his fellow Lord had flung herself down next to him. Erupting into a frenzied burst of movement, the Lord Evaluator recovered both saucer and spoon from midair and returned to his former posture within the blink of an eye, without having spilt a single drop of his beverage.
Placing them onto the table well out of harm’s way, Anil glanced at his fellow Lord to find her contritely mouthing the word, “sorry” his way. Then she grimaced. He smiled briefly, his white teeth lighting up his Indian features, before turning to set his sights on their commander.
“Corrine is right about one thing,” he said flatly.
“And that is?” asked the Lord Marshal.
“Earl, launching ahead of schedule as we did means we’re going to have to be blunt with some of the larger world news agencies regarding what we do, what we’re here for. While we have managed so far, it’s been an effort, especially with the law enforcement issues we’ve already become embroiled in. We all knew there was going to be a period of adjustment by going public – even partially – but we have cut things too close on several occasions now, and I am concerned we may have jumped the gun a little. God forbid we get too much on our plate at once…public opinion can be a fickle thing.”
The Lord Marshal spoke quickly. “We will be addressing one of those points later today, Anil, but why is it you think we’ve jumped the gun?”
“One, we need more Guardians to provide the right kind of cover, and two, we have to take advantage of the teams we already have, by making better use of the full gamut of their abilities. I touched on this aspect in my recent report. Just because we have an exceptional healer, for example, doesn’t mean we need ignore their slightly less impressive telekinetic or teleportation skills. No matter how tasking it might be, we need to seriously start considering extending each phase of the training package to ensure our people have the broadest range of skills available once they graduate.”
“Won’t that prolong the overall course by well over a year, though? Our undergraduates already have a tough enough time of it as it is.”
“Not necessarily, if the latest data is correct,” a striking woman cut in. “But even if it does extend their time here, it’ll be worth it in the long run.”
The Lord Procurator, Jade Heung, was the youngest of all those present, but she had been responsible for the teaching, discipline, and nurture of her students for over eighty-five years. She knew her division intimately, and when it came to assessing the productivity and impact of variant training packages, she was the acknowledged expert. Everyone listened.
Looking at her now, the Lord Marshal urged, “What’s on your mind Jade?”
Jade leaped straight in. “Until recently, I would have agreed with Anil, hands down. We just don’t have the resources. But over the past twelve months I’ve compiled the results of a remarkable program first shared with me by the Overlord, oh, several years ago now. It’s a system that accelerates both the learning and iteration curve, along with the psycho-energetic potential of the aspirants by compartmentalizing different areas of their psyches. The upshot of this is that it allows them to utilize autonomous extrasensory functioning twenty-four hours a day, actively promoting and complimenting mental synergy, even when the subject is sleeping.”
“You haven’t made reference to this before Jade, why?”
“I didn’t think to mention it, Earl, sorry. You know what I’m like when it comes to running my own ship. If I spot the potential of something, I take the time to set it up and watch it properly run its course – no matter how long that takes. That way I get to weigh all the pros and cons before making a final decision. Once I reach a decision, then I’ll make an announcement. This case was a little more complex, especially as it included the implementation of the preceptor module for expectant mothers. I liked what I saw and was going to include my findings in this New Year’s command meeting. It’s proved quite revealing, hang on a second...”
The Lord Procurator raised a finger, begging their forbearance for just a little while longer and manifested two items – side by side – in the air before them: a summary of the previous ten year’s statistics, and the startling foundation produced by the new training techniques. Between them, she superimposed a copy the current rank system:
GUARDIAN CLASS STRUCTURE
C1 – WEAK
C2 – MODERATE
C3 – ADEPT
C4 – PROTECTOR
C5 – GUARDIAN
C6 – MASTER CLASS 2ND TIER
C7 – MASTER CLASS 1ST TIER
C8 – GRAND MASTER CLASS 2ND TIER
C9 – GRAND MASTER CLASS 1ST TIER
C10 – HIGH GRAND MASTER CLASS
C11 – NEXUS THRESHOLD TO ULTRA CLASS
Beginning with the previous year’s figures, Jade resumed her explanation, “As you are aware, the latest version of the psychic assay device—the Compilator—provides us with an accurate measurement of a trainee’s current and future potential. Standard practice has been to allow those displaying the right aptitude and scoring higher than C4 or C5 to enroll at the Academy to commence the intensive five year syllabus.”
Jade paused to emphasize specific points from the record. “You can see that, formerly, applicants didn’t really experience that much of a boost in strength or range during basic training. No, it wasn’t until they underwent enhancement during the Continuation Course at the end of their probationary period that any marked gain was noted. Even then, it seems our methods were lacking in some way, as the majority of graduates leveled out somewhere between C6 and C9. Obviously, we’ve always been blessed by those especially gifted few who managed to rate C10 – or, like us – much higher. Alas, that was exceedingly rare…until now. Take a look at this.”
She switched diagrams to emphasize what all the fuss was about, causing her audience to gasp out loud.
Corrine, who knew the brain and its capabilities better than anyone else in the room muttered, “Am I seeing that right, Jade? Our candidates have started leaving the Academy at C7 Master or C8 Grand Master level, sometimes stronger? Before they’ve even undergone the augmentation phase?”
Jade was delighted at her friend’s response. “Oh yes, something about the accelerated techniques amplify the latencies bound within the crux of each individual’s psi-well, causing them to bloom exponentially. The sooner we introduce the catalyst, the more profound the results, as you can plainly see. If twelve months on the program proves this invaluable, just imagine what we’ll get from full term graduates in the future.”
“So that’s why we included the expectant mothers!” Corrine gasped, intuitively.
“Exactly, the earlier we catch the fetus, the greater the potential and the wider the range of abilities. How the boss knew this would work is beyond me. Do you know, at the last Guardianship Inauguration we had the whole fourth year re-assayed. Two of the Protectors registered at Ultra level. True, they only exhibited that prospectus in their primary abilities. But goodness knows what we’ll see as they mature.”
“What are they Ultras in?” Corrine couldn’t help asking.
“The young man is an Ultra Class healer, which will please you no end I’m sure, and the young woman appears to have Ultra level teleport capabilities.”
Anil’s face suddenly became serious. “Are they future transcension hopefuls, Jade?”
“We don’t know yet, Anil, but if they continue developing as they are, they may achieve the minimum threshold required to undergo and survive the change.”She winked, “Who knows, inside a few years we may witness the first new contenders to survive transcension from High Grand Master to Ultra since the last century.”
The feeling of euphoria was palpable among the entire group, and despite their initial spat, they couldn’t resist grinning at each other like children in a secret candy store.
It remained that way for a good few minutes until the Lord Marshal raised a sobering consideration. “So basically, we thought we’d jumped the gun a little, only to find we went public at the ideal time, for our own legacy is jumping right along with it. Coincidence?”
Anil smirked. “I suppose you could say it was fate, my friends. Or the astounding out-workings of our omnipotent Overlord…again! He certainly knows how to put pegs in holes.”
The mere mention of the unimaginable capabilities of the founding father of the Guardians sobered everyone instantly. A moment – pregnant with private reflection – passed before the company could pull itself together.
The Lord Marshal murmured, “That reminds me. There’s another reason I called you all here today. I do apologize. Jade’s surprise caught me on the back foot, somewhat. Adam has completed his final assessment of the candidates for the new post of Lord Conciliator and has asked me to convey the results to you.”
“So who got it?” Jade was the first to respond, “Vladimir, Victoria, or Andrew?” – These being the only Guardians beside themselves with psychic abilities rated above the nexus threshold who had survived the transcension process.
“Vladimir,” Earl announced, matter-of-factly. “Adam feels he’ll be perfect for dealing with all the PR hurdles we’re bound to run into as we take the next step on Saturday. I can see his point; Vladimir’s character will go a long way in facilitating our integration into everyday life.”
Vladimir Arihkin was an old Muscovite, who looked like a distinguished cross between Albert Einstein and Colonel Saunders. He was an unusual case in Guardian circles, having fully matured, and completed twenty-two years service in the Imperial Russian Army the previous century before his vast latencies broke through following his treatment for a severe head wound.
He was a potent telekinetic and self healer, which is why so many were surprised when he insisted on retaining the look of a bespectacled graying patriarch when he could so easily have appeared much younger, as his colleagues preferred to do. Not that his demeanor would be an issue here, as his grandfatherly image was sure to be a hit with the public.
“I hope Victoria and Andrew aren’t too disappointed.” Corrine sighed.
“Don’t ever think that,” Earl growled. “You know our dynamic duo as well as I do. They’re hanging on for the Shadow Operations and Inquisitor vacancies, or I’ll eat my hat. Why else do you think they’ve turned down promotion so often before?” The Lord Marshal snorted, “Hell, I only got this job because they point blank refused it.”
“Speaking of your role, when do you think Adam will fill the Deputy Marshal post, Earl? You’ll need a hand as things get busy,” Jade chipped back in.
“Beats me,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders, “I’ve given up trying to work out how his mind works.”
“Funny that, isn’t it?” The Lord Evaluator suddenly announced.
“What’s funny, Anil?” Earl probed.
“Oh, I’ve been letting all sorts of events spin round in my head – as I do – and one or two things amused me.”
“And why’s that?”
The Lord Evaluator hunched forward on his chair and got a faraway look in his eyes. “Well, it’s just that we’ve all been here for some considerable time now, haven’t we? In retrospect, we always seem to have ended up at the right place at the right time in history – and with just enough resources – to successfully navigate the transition through into the next stage of our endeavors. So, here we are, after all these years, on the verge of going public; public on a truly modern-day global scale. And once again we experience a fortuitous upwelling of potential that all but guarantees we’ll maintain pace with our ever-expanding responsibilities. I mean, a more circumspect observer might say there was more than a little manipulation going on here, eh?”
All remained silent, staring at their colleague as the weight of what he said sunk in. Cogitating, each found themselves pondering the mystery that was their leader, and the full extent of his remarkable precognitive ability.
None of them knew much about his personal life. Not his last name, his age or anything about his family or lineage. Nobody had the faintest inkling from where he’d come, only that he had been among the very first of them, countless millennia ago. Having laid the foundations of their fraternity, he’d guided and protected that loose knit, often fragmented band of trailblazers. Always seeming to know where to be and when; what to do and how, he’d ensured those initial precious few were safeguarded, and allowed to thrive, away from the fear and prejudice of those who wouldn’t understand. And slowly, gradually, as the ages had passed, they grew to become a force to be reckoned with. A force for good.
The thing was, they had no way of telling how strong Adam might be, for even his so-called weaker abilities ranged beyond the capacity of the Compilator to calibrate.
All they knew for certain was that the Overlord liked to hover in the background, content to let his people take all the credit. Every now and then, however, he might request the Guardians concentrate their efforts in certain areas or in certain ways.
Earl would see to it that they did just that, and inexorably, the yield of an incredible harvest would eventually be gathered. A humbling experience and one that never lost the sheer scope of its dignity, no matter how many times they’d witnessed it.
Snapping out of their third collective daydream in as many minutes, Corrine changed the subject onto a completely different tack. “Hey, there was something I wanted to mention too, my earlier rant about all the hurdles we’re getting threw me off a bit...Has anyone been tasked to do anything regarding the abduction of people suspected of having hyper senses? Reports about missing persons are cropping up all over the place.”
Everyone looked toward the Lord Marshal, who nodded his head slowly. “That’s a definite yes. The sad fact is, no matter how much we show we’re here to help everyone, there will be a twisted minority of those in power who fear what we represent. They want what we’ve got or close to it. And if they can’t get it fast enough, it would appear they are ready and willing to go to any lengths to procure it before someone else does.”
“Makes you wonder how Adam will choose to solve the problem before it gets out of hand, eh?” said Jade, clearly fishing.
“Oh, I’m sure our illustrious leader has an excellent solution in mind,” replied the Lord Marshal, promptly. “Just wait and see.”
“I’m more concerned by what he’s already got in place,” the Lord Evaluator interjected, a huge grin on his face. “Knowing him, I bet you it involves something very public, and most spectacular.”
The Lord Marshal mirrored his friend’s expression. Standing to dismiss them all from the meeting, he added, “I’ve learnt never to bet against you, Anil. But don’t be shocked if this time his solution takes even you by surprise. Saturday should be an interesting day, and I think our new Lord Conciliator is going to find his job getting busier a lot faster than he anticipated.”
And with that, they filed out of the conference room, eager to see what would be revealed in the days ahead.