Chapter One – Unexpected Visitors
Kaidan loved skive days.
Or at least that is what he had come to call them – these days where his mother kept him at home for no apparent reason and kept him in his room, or shooed him to the garden where she would watch him play in the grass from the kitchen window, her finger tap tap tapping on the ceramic rim of her coffee mug.
It was on days like this he could forget about the nightmare of state school – forget about the bullying and name calling, the teasing and the fighting and the… incidents. He didn't like to think about that stuff; his mother didn't like him to talk about it – and his dad was liable to give him a smack for mentioning it. No, on days like this Kaidan could be whoever he wanted to be: An Alliance fighter pilot, a pirate with a hook for an arm and one wooden leg, a fastidious doctor saving lives, a rock-star guitarist on his first tour. He could be all of these and for as long as he pleased, his mother rarely bothered him except to give him a meal and that horrible feeling he got never even surfaced when Kaidan was alone like this.
Sometimes it felt like something big was hiding inside Kaidan; in his chest – like a balloon and it would swell to the point he was sure he was going to burst. But it wasn't a balloon, not like at a party; whatever hid inside Kaidan was like a monster and it made bad things happen all the time. It made him hurt himself, break bones, it made things move on their own, it made his mother terrified of him. His mother had spent so long telling him he was silly, that he needed to find an outlet for his emotions that was all – but now even she looks away when Kaidan's temper begins to flare.
Sometimes his dad would take him to the Alliance headquarters, let him walk among the glass cases of old guns and medals and pictures – but he never let Kaidan speak to anyone. In fact he didn't like Kaidan being near anyone. If someone else came in he would start to sweat, like he'd been having a workout, and his hand would clamp on Kaidan's shoulder like a vice, anchoring him to the ground, holding him steady while he made small talk. Kaidan was forced to listen; listen to the ramblings of two old soldiers when he would much rather be streaking down the corridor pretending he was in an Alliance Fighter Ship.
Most of the time though, Kaidan was at home with his mother. She liked to bake, and tried to tell him to keep his room tidy – but it fell on deaf ears mostly. He wanted to be a musician and it was a dream she indulged, buying him instrument after instrument and it was true he seemed to have a natural talent, mastering techniques quickly and moving onto the next one. She said the music helped to keep him calm, which to him seemed a strange thing to say – he was never angry, not really.
Kneeling in the grass with his figurines Kaidan fingered the little round stump where his soldiers arm had disconnected contemplating getting some crazy glue from the kitchen to stick him back together. He hated breaking things, his father would not be amused and it seemed to happen so often around this house.
"Kaidan!" His mother called, the kitchen window opening briefly and then closing. He glanced up at the house, then to the sky wondering if his father was home and he was being summoned for the nightly ritual of questioning. Have you been a good boy? Have you broken anything today? Did you do your chores? Did we have any incidents?
They say 'we' like they are all in it together but Kaidan knows that these 'incidents' are his and his alone. His father makes that perfectly clear with his lectures that follow if the answer to that question is yes.
Slowly he got up, dropping the soldier to the grass, deciding it was better for that to be discovered than to be offered up to his father's judgmental eyes. He pulled the sleeves of his red jersey over his hands, striding to the French doors that would lead him into the kitchen. It was empty, which was unusual – his mother's stained coffee mug sitting on the green countertop empty.
Running his arm over the smooth counter he glanced at the fridge longingly, but refrained – he knew too well the lectures he got about eating before dinner; but he was always hungry. The teachers at school accused him of being underfed at home – mostly due to his wiry build; but the truth was he did eat. Probably more than your average 7 year old, it just didn't seem to go anywhere. His mother had been called to school numerous times about his appetite and each time she had defended herself, brining with her a list of the daily menu he had at home. The teachers told her to take him to the doctor, but she would never do that – she was too scared of what they would find.
Crossing the hallway he hovered in the doorway of the living room, glancing inside to see his mother perched on the edge of her armchair. She looked worried, her nails digging into her knees like claws as she sat with her back too straight. Her mouth was pinched, her face white as she nodded and nodded and nodded. Her bob of dark hair swinging against her jawline, which was still beautiful, with each jerked movement.
"Thank you so much for coming." She smiled, not to him – to someone in the living room with her "I just… we don't know what else to do with him."
Kaidan took a step inside the room and his mother's mouth clicked shut as she turned her dark eyes on him. He felt himself wither under the scrutiny of those eyes as they ticked from the dirty knees on his jeans to the oversized jersey she hated him wearing.
"Kaidan." She said, brightly – too brightly; it was fake, it was wrong. "These men are here to talk to you." She said, gesturing to the sofa. At last he turned to look.
Two men were sat, their hands resting on their knees as they both moved forward almost in unison to look at him. He shrank back, as they inspected him with their eyes: one set blue the other green. They were dressed like teachers in pressed suits and ties, and for a moment he wondered if he was in trouble – in trouble for missing school… or for the incident yesterday.
"Your mom tell us you've been getting into trouble Kaidan." One says, his face obscured by thick black beard "What's been going on?" He's a large man; the seams of his suit straining against the muscle of his shoulders and arms underneath. He doesn't look so much like a teacher as he does a wrestler posing as one. His hair is cropped short to his head and is as dark as the beard on his face. An expensive gold watch glints just under the cuff of the brown suit.
His heart began to hammer as he glanced from his mother to these men. He licked his lips, throwing a shrug out, and the man's mouth twitched.
"You can tell us, we have some experience with this kind of thing. Don't mind your mother just now; tell us what has been going on, what happened yesterday at school?" He adds and the man beside him pulls a little notebook out from his jacket, clicking a pen and pressing the nib to paper as he scribbles. This man is built smaller but is no less intimidating than the first. His pale face is all angles and planes, and his nose is pointed like a hawks. His red hair is longer, but neatly cut, with curls cupping his ears.
Kaidan looked to his mother again, but her eyes were faraway, her face turned to the window, her hand pressed over her mouth. She wouldn't look at him.
"I don't know." Kaidan offers hotly "I didn't throw it."
"You didn't throw what Kaidan?" the man with the beard persists "What happened?"
Kaidan sighed, twisting the sleeve of his jersey in his hands, round and round until he could feel the friction begin to burn the inside of his palm "She said no, the teacher wouldn't let me do goldentime; and the jar with the pens in it just… it moved on its on – I didn't throw it – I said that already!"
"Moved on its own?" The man with the pen asked, his eyebrows rising "You're sure about that?"
"I didn't throw it!" Kaidan repeated, anger beginning to build inside him. He felt that sensation. That balloon feeling as he began to swell – and the pallor of the men changed as he began to spiral toward a temper meltdown.
"Alright," The man reached forward, touching his forearm "It's alright Kaidan, we believe you." His tone was authoritative, stern – the same voice Kaidan's father used when he was getting stoked for a lecture. He replaced his hands on his knees, this time turning his eyes to Mrs Alenko as he cleared his throat.
"I think it would be best if we take him back to the clinic for tests." He said, glancing to his colleague for confirmation. The red haired man nodded, reaching forward to lift a briefcase into his lap.
"Well…" Mrs Alenko straightened in her seat, looping her dark hair behind her ears "What does that mean? Will we receive an appointment?" She asked, watching as the man unzipped the briefcase and began to pull out a sheet of paper.
The man with the beard chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling humourlessly "No Mrs Alenko. It's not that kind of clinic. We'll take the boy with us, he'll stay a week and if our tests turn up nothing he'll be back home before you know it."
Kaidan looked to his mother, almost unable to believe it as she reached forward for the form offered by the red haired man. The paper shook in her hand as she read the print, glancing all the while to Kaidan who stood mute not really comprehending that his fate was being decided between these three adults.
"Do I get a choice about this?" She asked, glancing at the men, she shook her head, her eyes filling with tears "He's just a boy; will he get to visit?"
"Those details can be decided once we have established the range of his abilities." The man said firmly "It was never going to be easy Mrs Alenko, believe me your son needs our help."
"I should collect his things." She said absently, setting the form aside on the small round end table by her seat; it housed her ball of wool – two knitting needles poked through the belly and a half eaten packet of boiled sweets; the sweets she would offer up as rewards for doing chores around the house.
She met Kaidan's eyes, offering him her hand as she passed, and he took it unsure as she led him up the stairs in silence. She dropped his hand outside his bedroom door and pushed past him into the room. It was a mess, and he froze waiting for her disdainful chiding but it never came. She picked up his rucksack, moving to his drawers and packing vests and underwear, trousers and sweatshirts. She paused as though thinking before collecting a few more items.
"Who are those men?" He asked, watching her as she crossed his room, stumbling over his toy car but righting herself again as she continued undeterred. She pushed his model plane that dangled from the ceiling aside as she collected some of his smaller toys from his dressing table.
"Those men are here to help Kaidan." She said absently, collecting his toothbrush from his bedside table "They are going to take you away for a little while. To see what is wrong with you."
Kaidan curled in on himself as he watched her. He knew there was something wrong with him, his father told him that all the time. The incidents wouldn't happen if he was normal. Zipping the rucksack closed she took his hand once more and led him back down the stairs.
This time the men were waiting at the front door for them and held out a hand, taking the bag from his mother gravely. She nodded as the red haired man produced that sheet of paper again and she took it from his fingers, turning back to lean on a stair as she signed her name on a line at the bottom of the page. Kaidan watched as she handed it over, his gut fluttering weakly as he looked from his mother to these strangers.
"I don't want to go." He said suddenly and his mother shot him a warning look he had seen that look all too often; that stern look in her eyes laced with fear. He turned to the men shaking his head "I don't want to go."
"Kaidan." The man with the beard smiled, handing the bag to his colleague as he spread his hands "Where we come from there are lots of boys and girls just like you who can do strange things. Things they don't understand. We're here to help you understand what is happening; to show you how you can control it."
He blinked as hot tears began to run unbidden from his eyes anyway "I don't want to go." He bleated, twisting the sleeve of his sweatshirt tight enough to draw blood from the reddened skin of his palm.
"You have to Kaidan." His mother said beside him "You can't stay here. Not like this. Not anymore." Her tone was cold and stung him more than any lecture his father had ever given him.
"Come on Kaidan." The man said, taking his hand which was curled around the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He half pulled him down the rest of the stairs and out the front door. Kaidan walked sullenly with him, down the garden path and to the garden gate. It was when he saw the black flight van that panic hit him. He yanked against the arm, turning back to his mother who stood in the stoop of the front door, her fingers pressed against her lips.
"I'll be good!" He screamed; tears coursing down his face as the man struggled to keep a hold of his thin wrist "I swear it! Mom! Mom! I promise! I'll be good – I'll be normal! I swear!"
Large arms came around him and he felt that swelling once more inside him, felt it bubble further than it ever had before – like a pot left to boil unwatched and he grit his teeth as he struggled to maintain control.
"Tranquilise him Anders." A voice grunted and he felt a sharp sting in the back of his neck.
That swelling halted and was replaced with warmth; a warm feeling that flooded through his muscles, making everything feel like jelly. Like when you sat on the roundabout and got spun too long and tried to walk right after. Strong arms lifted him bodily into the van, he could feel that gold watch digging into his ribs – he felt like he was flying, and when he closed his eyes they wouldn't open again.