A/N: Little something I've been playing around with in my free time. I should be working on my other story, which has been labeled "In Progress" for its whole life. Poor thing. I will get around to that probably definitely. But in the meantime, the phrase "And now for something completely different" springs to mind. Those who read, enjoy.

Oh, and I'll be taking liberties with the storyline and/or characters. 'Cause come on. That's the point. Mm. Yep. Love me some liberties.

Title: The Missing

Chapter 1

Commander Cruger

I've spent many years as Commander of Space Patrol Delta. Many more years as a Sirian warrior. I have tasted victory at its sweetest and felt the most crushing kind of defeat. I have loved, despised, fought against and alongside males and females of scores of races from dozens of planets. There are days when I believe I've seen everything there is to see in this galaxy, for better and for worse. Days when I believe surely that nothing I encounter could surprise me. Then there are those best and worst days when I prove that theory utterly untrue.

I was in the control room, monitoring the progress of the new A-Squad Rangers as they responded to a relatively routine service call. Perronville, a few hundred clicks south of our Newtech City base, had a downed speedtrain line. With the power down, there was no communication with the train, and apparently a live ground wire had been exposed, making the rescue of the trapped passengers difficult for the local emergency teams. There had been no collision, however, so civilian injuries, if there were any, were expected to be few. I sent in the SPD Rangers to assist in the rescue operation. In all, it was a bit of a slow day. We'd had many of those lately.

"Doggie." My ears twitched. The tone of voice in which Katherine Manx said my name right then corded the muscles in my shoulders and raised the fine hairs at the back of my neck. Before I even heard her next words, I knew that my slow day had just flown out the window. She sat across the room at her control panel, bent over monitors and keyboards. The blinking lights reflected off her face as she frowned. "I…think there's a problem."

"What is it, Kat?" I barked, my sudden tension making the words come out harsher than I intended. Not that that ever phases her.

"It's…I think this is a distress signal." Her voice sounded distant, the way it does when her mind is more focused on whatever problem is in front of her than on speaking to me.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come look at this."

I crossed the room in four strides and looked down at the monitor that had captured her attention. The screen showed a power grid for Newtech City. Toward the southeast corner of the city, a small yellow beacon flashed. "Where did this come from?"

"I don't know. This grid just popped up on my monitor. Like…someone uploaded it straight to our control panel."

"Isn't that impossible?"

"Yes." She shook her head. "The amount of security and encryptions and firewalls…"

"So this could be some kind of virus or…"

"No."

"No?"

"No. Read this."

My eyes scanned the bottom of the screen where a text box sat glowing in red and holding very few words. " 'Please come,'" I read slowly. " 'Trapped. Hurts.'" I looked at Kat. I could see her worry building. The beginnings of worry were churning in my own gut. But I was also thinking about how many different ways this could be a trap. "There wasn't anything attached to this when it came through?"

Kat shook her head. "I've scanned it three times. It's clean. I have a program triangulating the position of the computer that sent this message. My guess is, we'll find it here," she pointed to the yellow beacon. "This is the Kerogagi Research Facility."

My jaw set. "Kat."

She looked at me. "Can you think of one other interpretation for this other than a cry for help? Someone is in trouble. Someone brilliant enough to send us a message through our own security. We need to investigate this. We should leave now."

"It's practically foreign soil!" Kerogagi was a scientific embassy of sorts—a meeting place and lab facility for some of the most brilliant minds in the association of planets friendly with Earth. The researchers who worked there were considered dignitaries. The place had its own security that mostly operated outside of the rest of the planet's jurisdiction. No need to remind Kat. She knew.

Even so, there was fire in her dark eyes. "So we should just let it go?"

"Of course not! But we can't just storm the place either. It would do nothing for the person who sent this message, and at the end of the day all we'd have done was forfeit our jobs. We have no evidence that this is something serious; we have no authority to act unless we can prove there are laws being broken. I'm not asking you to look the other way; I'm asking you to find another way."

And she did.

Sky Tate

Not a good day.

I walked through the halls of the SPD Academy with the clipped, confident stride of someone who actually knew what was going on, a duffel bag thrown over one shoulder, my blue eyes sharp and staring right through anyone who crossed my path. It was a look I'd pretty much perfected—letting people know without doubt or effort that I saw them, missed nothing, and rightly concluded they weren't worth my time.

The place was crowded with new first years and their oh-so-proud mommies and daddies and whatever other various members of their family support structures had thought it necessary to show up. The kids all looked nervous and excited, and even if the newbies were my age, I knew I'd never been that young. Didn't even know what they were so excited about. Statistically speaking, before the next two weeks of ground school were up, at least a third of these fresh faces would drop out and go back to their safe, comfy little high schools and their slightly less proud mommies and daddies.

Man, I hated move-in day.

It made it worse that I also hated my new roommate. Former new roommate. Well, soon-to-be-former new roommate, anyway. Kid was a second year, like me, except he was a transfer. Name was Johnson. He probably had a first name, though within five seconds of meeting him, I couldn't think of a single reason why I should bother to learn it. Within five minutes of meeting him, I wanted to forget his last name, too.

I'd roomed with Dru the last two semesters, and somehow he'd managed to convince me I needed a best friend, and he was it. No small task. Honestly. Think what I liked most about him was he didn't get me at all. Well, really, that wasn't anything new. But he knew that he didn't get me, and he didn't bother trying. Everybody else, seemed like, either thought they had me all figured out, or they made it their mission to do so.

When I was little, me and my dad would visit this old buddy of his. The man was blind, and he'd spend hours upon hours fitting together these jigsaw puzzles. Everyone thought that was great and amazing, but I didn't see the point. Why would the man care about putting together a puzzle if he couldn't see the picture it made? He told me it wasn't about seeing the picture. It was just about completing the puzzle. That's what I figured people were about when they "took an interest" in me. Wasn't about seeing the real me at all. It was just about solving a puzzle. I wasn't at all inclined to give anyone the satisfaction.

Dru, though, just let me be me. Never asked any probing personal questions, never expected me to do the same. We could hang out all day, say six words or six million, and none of those words would be about anything deeper than who we expected to win what championship of any given sports season, what teacher gave what annoying project that week, or what cadet had pulled what crazy stunt. It was a convenient friendship. We were roommates. We went through ground school together. We had a bond. So when I heard he was being transferred and I'd probably never see him again, I was pretty annoyed.

And like I said, this Johnson kid didn't help any.

Apparently the guy was the small talk type. He'd been in my room ten minutes, tried to get me to talk about every pointless topic from family to music to the freaking weather. Of course, I mostly ignored him, inserting a grunt or a glare where necessary. Then he put up this poster of the flavor of the minute pop singer chick. I only recognized her because, like it or not, I lived with two hundred teenagers. Auburn Alora stood in a tank top, glancing back over her bare shoulder with a smile that seemed a little too "come hither" for a—what was she, like sixteen, seventeen years old? I wondered briefly if she had parents and if they'd seen that poster and what they'd think if they knew it was hanging in the bedroom of an SPD cadet being ogled by a moron. Then, of course, I realized I didn't care.

Johnson raised an eyebrow with a lewd smile meant to nudge me into joining him in drooling over her hotness. Not that she wasn't hot. That girl was it. But Johnson thought he was setting up some male bonding ritual, and it was so juvenile, and he was a moron. At the time I just gritted my teeth and figured it'd be a long semester.

But then his eyes slid over to my side of the room and my stuff, and I felt him trying to get a read on me. Trying to figure me out. I felt my blood getting hot. I had one picture in a frame on my desk. Me and my dad. And this punk kid who didn't know me from Adam walked over and picked up that frame—put his hand on my stuff—and said, "Hey. This your old man?"

I'd been calm. Oh, I'd been very calm. "Put it down."

And he had. Immediately. And after that, Chatty Cathy, his eyes all wide, had nothing else to say, not even as I calmly, oh so calmly, told him to "Sign here, please." And he did, and he was very nervous. Guess he wasn't as stupid as I thought.

I know he thought I was going to hit him, and I know he didn't know why. I didn't have any sympathy for him. But at least I hadn't hit him. I'd considered it, sure. Would've looked bad. Instead, I calmly placed my things back in my bag, stepped out into the hallway, and hit the door lock with slightly more force than may have been necessary.

I straightened. Squared my shoulders against the stares I could feel on my back. With my housing reassignment request form firmly in hand I headed for the offices. Seeing all the cadets with their parents rubbed on already frayed nerves. They were kids. Kids who had no idea what they were doing. Fact that I had three more years as one of them made the blood in my veins start to simmer.

Most people my age have reps they like to protect. Actually, I had two. To the instructors and staff, I was straight-laced and by the book. A hard worker with Ranger in my blood. To the cadets I was a guy nobody messed with. I liked it that way. Kept people from looking too close.

I pulled up at the Academy main office, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at the red light above the door panel. Seriously? Why would they close the office on move-in day? I stared at the door for a minute before peeking around to the window to see if everyone in the office was out to lunch or what. I really wasn't expecting what I saw.

Lt. Cmdr. Jaines, Dean of Admissions, stood circled up with a couple other administrators including the big dog himself. Cmdr. Anubis Cruger—"Doggie" to those closest to him and those far enough away to call him that behind his back—stood there, grim-faced and larger-than-life as usual. I'd met him a few times. School things mostly. Opening ceremonies, induction, commencement. He'd been at the funeral, of course. Still, every time I saw the blue alien, he just looked…big.

I stepped back from the window with a frustrated sigh. I've never been a patient guy. People have always told me I need to work on that. Maybe I would if it didn't seem like such a huge waste of time.

I glanced away, moving toward the row of chairs that lined the wall outside the office. Two guys and a girl I recognized as all having a place on D-Squad stood at the end of the row, arms crossed, looking nervous and standing almost at attention. Shannoi Sido was kind of cute. Dark hair and the pale, almost bluish skin of the Faregians. She looked a little paler and bluer than usual, sending short, uncomfortable looks to Corin Nesby, her teammate, who passed them on to their team leader whose name escaped me. D-Squad Leader was an Earth-born native, brown hair and skin, standing there like the world was on his shoulders and he hadn't realized it'd be so heavy.

I frowned at them, wondering what their problem was, but doubt they saw me. I was about to sit. I was that close to missing it. But over by D-Squad Mall Cop and his team, there on the floor, I saw a pair of sock-covered toes sticking out, nearly hidden behind the row of seats. I frowned more.

Curiosity isn't something I feel all that often, not in a killed-the-cat sense anyway. But that's why I've never been so good at resisting. I took a few steps toward the wayward pair of feet to see who they were connected to. My eyebrows rose a little on their own.

The kid was curled up a little against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest, hands gripping tight to the fabric of his pants. He was young. At first I thought he must've been somebody's little brother wandered off, maybe hiding. But then I knew that wasn't the case. First off, he was in an SPD cadet uniform—even if it was two or three sizes too big. And second…second was more instinct than anything else, but…it really didn't look like this kid belonged to anybody.

Still, though, he couldn't be a cadet. Kid looked like he was what? Ten years old? I could never tell how old kids are. In any case, admission age was sixteen. They'd bent the rules for me, let me in at fifteen, but I was exceptional. This kid definitely didn't look exceptional. In fact, he didn't even really look healthy. He was real skinny, and his hair was wild and shaggy, and he was too pale. His eyes were open but squinted, and I saw the thin lines around them and realized he was in pain.

Quicker than anything, his eyes shot up to meet mine. In fact, it startled me. Which was notable because I don't startle easily. He winced and brought his hands up to his temples. His hands. They were wrapped clumsily with what looked like strips of cloth from a shredded t-shirt. I tilted my head to the side to look at him. He looked back at me—had to tilt his head back pretty far. His eyes were really green. And the way he looked at me…made me feel…trapped somehow. There was something really…really different about him. It was mostly in his eyes, in his expression. I didn't know what it was or whether it was good, but there was something about him that screamed different. And he had no idea how to hide it.

He's shaking, I realized. Shivering, even though the temperature in the Academy stayed at a regulated 71 degrees. He's afraid. I knew this. Which was odd because he didn't really look scared at all. Besides the trembling, there were no other clues, but I knew that this kid was scared out of his mind.

I took a step closer, felt my mouth open, and I had no idea what would come out—a brand new concept for me. But I was saved from saying anything, when D-Squad stepped up.

"Move along, Cadet," Team Lead fairly growled, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his unease.

I tore my eyes away from the kid on the floor to look at him. Man, what was his name? "Just need a signature from Jaines to take to Housing," I told him like I knew what had him so on edge. Even though I really had no idea. I shot a glance toward the kid and looked back up at him almost lazily. "This kid lost?"

"Not your business to know. Why don't you come back later." No question in that question. He uncrossed his arms, taking a step toward me, trying to intimidate. With his arms uncrossed I could read the name stitched into his uniform. Mowerly. That was that guy's name.

I didn't move. "I'm in no hurry. Think I'll wait."

"Then you can wait over there." He pointed to the opposite end of the row. Corin Nesby and Shannoi took a step closer, Corin Nesby's jaw stiffening, and Shannoi swallowing and blinking. Thinking something would happen.

I looked at them. Looked at Mowerly. Cocked my head to one side. "Yes, sir." It is entirely possible to speak respectfully without any measure of respect. He tensed but couldn't call me on it. With a smile that made him think I wouldn't comply and a hesitation that made him absolutely sure I wouldn't, I turned and walked away toward the end of the row.

I sat down slowly, deliberately, because I wasn't about to get huffy in front of witnesses. It was weird, though. Felt wrong. Were Mowerly and the others guarding that kid? Why? What made him so special? I knew if I leaned forward and turned my head, I'd be able to see the kid's feet sticking out, and I had the sudden intense urge to check to make sure he was still there and okay. Which was stupid. That little nobody was nothing to me. I'd probably never see him again, and that didn't bother me. Why should it?

The hall was a bit noisy, people rushing about and laughing and hugging and all that. But I thought I heard something else. Small voices.

"I disagree," Jaines's voice. From the office. "If he's allowed to stay, he cannot have free reign of our premises. It's out of the question."

I looked up. There was a ventilation duct over my head. I sat up straighter and wanted for everyone else around me to shut up.

There was a grunt that sounded like Sgt. Logan. "Bottom line: kid's dangerous. I don't want him anywhere near my cadets. What if he goes out of control, starts terrorizing people's heads? How do we…"

"We don't even know he can do that," Dr. Manx interrupted. Sounded like she was getting pretty worked up. "There's no reason to believe…"

Jaines spoke right over the top of her. "You're going to put everybody in this organization at risk because he 'seems' harmless?" He didn't let her answer. "Doctor, you seem to be forgetting that we have a responsibility to this academy and all its members. To jeopardize their safety in order to…"

"Oh, come off it, Jaines. You're worried about politics, not about anyone else's safety. You're afraid if the parents find out about the boy you'll be the one to catch any backlash. You'd put your own interests over…"

"Why shouldn't their parents freak out?" Logan demanded in his gruff, low voice. "You'd be fine with it if your kid had to share a room with a friggin psychic?" My head came up sharply at that. Psychic? He didn't let her answer either. "Point is, we don't know what he can do. And until we've assessed him as a threat…"

"A threat?" Manx was livid. I'd seen her annoyed, mad even, but right then…it went way beyond that. "He's a twelve-year-old boy! For heaven's sake, have you even looked at him?"

"Yeah," Logan said shortly. Sounded like an idiot. "I have. And it occurred to me that he's hiding something."

"Hiding something? He's mute," she defended. Clearly she thought he sounded like an idiot, too.

"He's not talking. That don't mean he's mute. Kid managed to break out of a high security facility, right? We still don't even know how." I swallowed. He did what?

"They were holding him prisoner! There's no telling what they did to him!"

"Exactly," Jaines cut in evenly. "So we're dealing with a highly unstable child with an ability we don't fully understand. Not even counting his young age, to place him in an environment where he could harm others—maybe even himself—would not only be irresponsible. I'd say it's downright negligent."

"He found a way to get a message out, and he called us. He thought he could find sanctuary with us." She shook her head. "He deserves some kind of normal," she wouldn't budge. "At least as close as we can manage. Someone should let him have a normal life."

"Not at the expense of another's. We are SPD. We are the law. We are protectors. I will not allow this mind-reader to have an opportunity to strike at us at our core. At our future generation. The ones we have greatest cause to protect."

"He is one we have greatest cause to protect. He's one of us."

"The fact is, Dr. Manx, we don't know what he is. He is an anomaly. An aberration. And a mystery. One we may be unable to control. There really is only one solution. One in which everyone remains safe, and no one outside these walls will have cause to notice or object." He paused, so very sure of himself. "We need to isolate the boy."

There were more words. Dr. Manx just about exploded, and no one really heard her but me. I sat there, letting those words wash over me, straining to hear and not wanting to listen. Who do they think they are? A fierce, hot anger built inside my chest with every passing moment as I thought about that little kid. Sitting huddled on the floor twelve feet from me while four people were allowed to shut the door on him—where no one would notice—and decide his future. Decide whether or not they wanted to lock him up for being different. Who do they think they are?

I stood. Walked to the end of the row. Stood over that kid, trying to keep my hands from clenching into fists, ignoring sudden protests from Mowerly and the others. He looked at me, shaking and not blinking his giant green eyes. Afraid. Afraid of me. Afraid of the people behind closed doors. Afraid of what would happen next.

Sometimes I think everyone in the universe besides me is a complete idiot. In that moment, I was willing to let Dr. Manx off the hook. But to look at this tiny little kid in all his raw terror and think he was dangerous…Heck, I wished he was dangerous. If he were dangerous, he wouldn't have had to be so scared.

Mowerly stepped right up in front of me. He was four years older. But we were exactly the same height. Never noticed that before. "Cadet, I'm only gonna say it one more time…back off."

I looked right at his eyes. "I need to speak with the kid."

"Sky…" Shannoi tried to reason with me.

Corin Nesby wasn't nearly so diplomatic. "Tough. You got nothing to say to him." Like he'd know. "Forget it, and move on." Corin Nesby was not the same height as me. Guy's a big boy. Maybe a couple inches taller. More than a couple inches wider. Not fat. Muscle.

If I said I knew what the heck I was doing, I'd be lying. Honestly. "That's the thing, though. I can't do that. See, I've got a pretty good memory."

"Tate," he growled.

"Sky, what are you doing?" Shannoi asked, getting worried and annoyed. She glanced back at the kid really quick, and maybe if I'd missed the look in her eyes I would've been able to back off. Maybe I would've been able to walk away. But I didn't miss it. And I won't say I don't miss much. I do miss much. I know that. But I saw how she saw that kid. Like he was a thing, a monster. Not so much hatred; not in her. In her there was a little fear, and a lot of disgust, and there was something else, too. And it looked like pity. Pity. Not mercy. It was the kind of look people give to a dead cat on the side of the road as they drive by. A fleeting moment of pity that's forgotten in the next second. When I saw that, recognized it, I was sealed. I couldn't walk away from that.

"I need to have a conversation with him."

"Sky, he can't even talk. You don't know what's going on, and it doesn't concern you. Please. You need to leave." She had honey-colored eyes that were big and pleading and always looked sad even when she was happy.

"Sorry," I said. But I wasn't.

Mowerly scowled. "Can't believe this," he muttered. His voice slowed and deepened. "You're a freaking lunatic, Tate. Turn around. And walk away. That's an order. If you refuse, I will restrain you. You really want to make that kind of scene right here in the hallway?"

I fought the urge to look around. I'm sure our little stand-off had attracted a few stares, but most everyone who passed by was absorbed in their own business. "No, sir. I really don't." That was true. I really didn't.

"Good. Turn around."

"Right after you step aside and let me talk to your…" I said "prisoner" at the same time he insisted "Assignment."

Mowerly shook his head at me. I was a stupid second year cadet. He had no reason to fear me. "I'm done. Corin?" Almost before Mowerly had nodded in my direction, Corin Nesby's gorilla hand landed on my shoulder. I didn't think.

I reacted.

Before his hand even had time to settle, I jerked my shoulder from under him, grabbing his hand and twisting until he had to bend over to keep his shoulder from wrenching. I tightened my hold until he shouted and then stepped around, turning him with me, and only shoving him away when I stood between the three of them and the kid psychic.

There was a moment, probably no more than a second, where nobody moved. It was suddenly me against the three of them, and they were shocked and I was mad. That second was long enough for fury to build in three sets of eyes because a stupid second year had just assaulted one of their own. Even Shannoi wouldn't let that stand.

There was a shout from Corin Nesby as he worked the soreness out of his wrist. And then he smiled a sick smile. With Mowerly on one side, and Shannoi on the other, he came at me. He might even have won. But I did what made the most sense at the time. I stopped him.

Almost without my consent, the familiar energy surged from my head down my arm, releasing out of my fingertips as I formed a shield around me and the kid. I'd been practicing. In secret. Even so, if any one of them had tried to break it, they probably could've. But the blue, shimmering force field that had shot from my hands had been enough to stop all three of them dead. I heard gasps. A scream. I knew that would matter later, but right then it really didn't somehow. I held the shield, already feeling the fatigue start creeping into the edges of my brain. Turned toward the little boy.

He was pressed flat against the wall, his eyes wide as they could be. I took my paper out of my pocket with my free hand and thrust it at him. He flinched. "I want you to sign this," I told him calmly as Mowerly found his voice and started yelling things, still not brave enough to touch my shield—which was a very good thing because I was pretty sure a fly could've busted it at that point, and that really would've hurt. The kid didn't move.

"Just trust me." If anyone had said that to me, I would've called them an idiot. It really was too much to ask right then. Pretty sure I even knew that.

But I guess he figured he had no other choice because he only hesitated a second before he took the paper and pen from me. He shot me a quick look like he wondered if it had been a trick, and he'd be in trouble for taking them.

"Everything's fine," I said through my teeth as more and more people gathered to watch the scene, and I knew this would be bad, and I didn't know why I'd ever thought it'd be worth it. "Hurry." It was hard for him, his hands wrapped up like they were. But he scribbled a signature where I pointed, and that was enough for me. "Good. Follow me."

He scrambled up and stayed behind me as I backed toward the door. I dropped my shield and smiled at D-Squad. Smiled at them and all the familiar and unfamiliar faces of the crowd behind them that had just seen me being what I was. None of them smiled back.

"Tate!" Corin Nesby yelled. He wouldn't come near me now. "You freak!" That's about all he had in his arsenal.

My smile didn't waver. I was a freak. I already knew that. "Yes, sir."

I hit the control panel and barged into a roomful of my superiors without batting an eye, the kid close behind me, and my rage fueling me in what was ultimately a blatant show of disrespect. Pretty much blew the straight-laced, by-the-book image out the window. Thank goodness I never stopped to think what the heck I was doing.

Four sets of eyes were on me, and I took advantage of their shock to get my words in. "Sirs. I'd like approval for a room change request. I've already found a cadet willing to move with me."

"Cadet Tate!" Logan barked, and he was actually stunned. Then he looked wild-eyed at the boy behind me like the kid was a Moraneese bulldragon with its drip fangs extended. "What is he doing…"

Mowerly stepped up behind me, his team on his heels, and the kid snaked around to my other side, away from them. The D-Squad leader spoke heatedly to Jaines, never coming within three feet of me. "Sir! Did you… Tate's one of them!"

The whole room felt like chaos. The two male members of D-Squad pointing at me and spitting and cursing my name and Shannoi standing there, wordless, doing her best to figure out what she thought about what she'd just seen because I think maybe she didn't want to hate me right then.

The little kid stood close to me, not so close as to be in my personal space, but close enough that I could grab him if someone else tried to snatch him away. His shoulders were bunched tight, and he had his wrapped hands pressed into the sides of his head, his eyes squinted and watery like everything was so loud it hurt.

And me, I stood there. And saw everyone. And waited.

"Enough!" Jaines finally shouted, and it worked. D-Squad shut up. "D-Squad. You're dismissed." He sounded angry. I wondered if having them guard the kid had been his idea.

Mowerly wasn't quite ready to let go. "Sir…"

"Mowerly," Jaines said sharply, and the two locked eyes for a moment. "Dismissed."

The upper level cadet nodded once, automatically, and I ignored his glare and his fear as he did what he was told and retreated with his team. Corin Nesby sent me a look that promised retribution. And Shannoi…she gave me a look a lot like the one she'd given the kid.

While the door slid shut behind them, Logan was busy fuming. "Tate, where do you get off…"

I cut him off. He wasn't too used to being cut off. It showed. "My previous roommate has already signed a room reassignment request. I'd like to move in with a new cadet. His name is," I scanned the name on the paper, "Bridge Carson." I nodded my head at him. Standing there looking small and lost in the oversized uniform, he looked like he really wanted to disappear. But whatever powers he had, apparently that wasn't one of them. "That's him there. Wearing the SPD uniform."

Jaines looked gut-punched. "Where did you get his name, Tate?"

"It's right here on my request form, sir." The words were innocent enough. But everything about the way I said them accused him of being exactly what he was, and I can't imagine that would've sat too well with him. He snatched the form from me to see it was true.

"This boy is not a cadet," he snapped.

I blinked innocently. "Well, would you care to explain to me what he is, sir?"

Logan broke in. "He ain't even old enough to enroll!"

"Neither was I."

Jaines helped him out. "You were different."

"So is he."

It took him a second before he remembered he didn't actually have to answer to me. "Consider your request denied, cadet," he said stiffly. "Dismissed."

"No, sir." Shock and contempt reddened his face. "I have business to attend to here. If you refuse to hear me, I invoke my right as a member of Space Patrol Delta to be heard by the commander of this facility."

"As a cadet, you have no such right." He was completely correct on that point. I knew this. Regardless, I figured I'd give it a shot while the Commander was in the room—silent as the Sirian had been up to this point. "Now, I will give you five seconds to leave this room before I invoke disciplinary measures for this gross insubordination…"

"If this kid goes missing, sir, if he disappears," I told him, standing at my full height, all six foot two inches of me staring him down, "I. Will. Notice."

"You don't know what you're talking about Tate," Logan growled.

"But I am talking about it, sir." I would not back down. "And I have a pretty big mouth." I looked at Jaines. "How's that for politics?" Maybe that was blackmail. But if it was his reputation he was worried about, I didn't have a problem telling the world he'd locked up an innocent little kid because he was a coward. Made me sick.

Jaines sputtered for a moment, and I know he was getting ready to come down on me, and I know he'd have kicked me out if he could've. He couldn't expel me, though. I knew that even then. I braced myself to face his wrath. But as soon as he opened his mouth, before he could even say word one, something happened. Something that reminded me why it mattered so much to me to be where I was.

Commander Cruger reached out and took my form from Jaines. It was enough to silence the LC. Then Cruger, who hadn't said a word since the whole thing began, took up a pen. While all of us watched, he leaned over the office desk and signed my request.

No one moved for a moment after that. I looked at Dr. Manx. I'm not even sure why. But she met my eyes with a relieved, grateful smile. The kind of smile I didn't see often. From anyone.

"Here you are, Cadet Tate," the Commander said as he handed back a piece of paper that was suddenly very important. "Take this to the housing office to receive your new room assignment. I'll have Cadet Carson's paperwork sent there as soon as possible. Cadet," he turned and looked at Bridge. The kid shuffled a step closer to me, but maintained eye contact, having to stare almost straight up.

When the commander of the SPD spoke again, his voice was different, just a little bit. It still held all of its authority and that serious edge that was its defining point. But it was that smallest bit softer. Kinder. "As of now, you are here on a scholarship that will cover all your essentials. I'll open the account. It should be ready later this evening for you to go to the Campus Store to purchase clothing and supplies for classes. I'll order placement tests, and then you will receive tutoring for the next few years until which time you are ready to join regular classes as a member of SPD."

Jaines was beside himself. "Sir…"

Cruger ignored him. Ignored everyone else. He kept his eyes on Bridge. Deliberately. "Do you understand?"

The kid jerked his head in a very solemn nod.

"Is this what you want?"

Another nod, and this one was more desperate. I think Cruger sensed that, too. That wasn't just what Carson wanted. It was more than he'd thought to hope for. "Fine. I trust your roommate will be useful during this transition, should you have any questions."

That part was definitely directed toward me. "Yes, sir," I said.

"And should there be any concerns, medically or otherwise, Dr. Manx has been known to keep an open door."

She nodded, looking almost close to tears. I'd never seen her like that.

"Then it's settled. I expect you to stop by my office tomorrow at 0600. We'll still need to make certain arrangements."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"The both of you."

I smiled, even if I didn't let it show. "Yes, sir."

"And now, Cadets," the Commander said. "You are both dismissed."

I snapped a salute—my elbow parallel to the floor, fist over my heart—putting all the gratitude I felt into that familiar symbol of respect. He nodded to me his understanding. Then the famously immoveable top dog of SPD did something I'd never seen him do. He smiled. It was quick. So quick I almost missed it. But it was there, and there was a measure of respect and pride in his eyes that I'd never seen before.

Before I turned and left, I did catch sight of Logan and Jaines. Two men I'd never had a real problem with before. Two men in positions of power over me. And, if the looks on their faces were any indication, two men I'd just crossed. I was no fool. I knew exactly what kind of enemies I was making—even as I made sure both of them saw my most smug smile. Two administrators. All of D-Squad. I'd just made some serious enemies all in the span of what? Eight minutes? I was just a lowly cadet. A second year nobody. But I was first and always a Tate. Bring it on.

With my victory in hand, I stepped out into the hall, grabbed my duffel, and turned in the direction of the housing office. I'd taken three steps before I realized the kid wasn't with me. I turned back. He was standing in front of the closed office door, watching me, uncertain. I wrinkled my forehead a bit, wondering what he was waiting for. "Well," I nodded him forward. "Come on."

The invitation, apparently, was all he needed. He stepped up to me, stopping two feet away. Caught me with that gaze of his that was like nothing I'd ever seen. Like everything he felt was right there, scrolling across those intense green eyes. In that moment, through his fear and uncertainty, I saw intelligence. I saw that he knew exactly what I'd just done and understood it all. And somehow right then, he told me thank you just with his eyes and that even if it was impossible, he'd do everything he could to pay me back. That as long as I wanted him around, he'd be there.

I blinked, wondering where all that came from. He's psychic. The words clanged in my mind, and I felt a sudden wave of unease before I could help it. He took a step back like that wave had crashed right over his head. I stared at him for a minute. "Do you know what I'm thinking?"

He shook his head no. And it was in his eyes, and I thought that even if he had been lying, I would've been able to tell immediately. Man, I wanted him to stop looking so afraid. I was used to other cadets being nervous or intimidated around me. But this kid—he looked like he knew I could change at any moment. At any moment I could turn on him, and he'd have no chance against me. And if that's what he thought, he couldn't read my mind at all.

"Okay. Well quit thinking like that," I told him automatically. He blinked in surprise. Like he wondered if maybe I was the psychic. "Now come on." And I turned and started walking again. It only took a second for me to sense him walking close behind me, his footsteps silent.

I guess it was the victory high that made it so I didn't have to think about how I may have just changed everything. That would eventually wear off.