Okay, I did NOT like how my sequel to Galactic Fuse went. So I'm totally redoing it. Hope you enjoy!
My first continuation sequel of FusionFall: Galactic Fuse.
Chapter 1:
Exam
"I did not see that coming," Lee Daring let out a bark of laughter as he and the wielder of the Omnitrix casually shuffled down one of the long corridors of the solar-system-sized space station (pardon the alliteration) towards Hangar Deck B-47.
Ben Tennyson grinned, "That was some speech. I've got a new respect for my flight instructor, that's for sure."
"I feel sorry for anyone who double-crosses him," the green-eyed blonde remarked.
Ben grimaced, "I'd hate to be in their shoes."
There was a slight pause. Lee pulled down his brown detective's hat that was an addition to his private investigator attire complete with trench coat and brown gloves. His messy hair fell in front of his eyes, and he asked, "So, did you get to talk to Dexter like you wanted?"
"I saw him, but I didn't get to talk to him," Ben sighed. "I have a feeling he hasn't gotten to really talk to anyone besides Conwell and Sevin. And he just talks business with them."
Lee allowed a smile to appear on his face. "Don't worry, Ben. If he's locked in a room with Nathan, he's got company. Nate could make friends with a grizzly. Individually, of course. He has trouble in groups."
"I thought he look kind of scared at the meeting," Ben noted.
"Two to four people around him, and he's fine," the blonde fifteen-year-old began, "But any more, and he looks like he's about to have a panic attack. I was amazed he didn't pass out or anything with so many eyes on him."
Curiously, Tennyson asked, "How's a friendly guy afraid of crowds?"
It didn't make much since to him because in order to be friendly one had to be social. But one could be social in a group of no more than four, he supposed.
"Eh, his parents are to blame," Lee shrugged, "After the wreck that crippled him, they kept him locked in his room. Home schooled by a private tutor, served three times a day by a personal chef. His parents were bloody rich. But they were never home, so he only ever socialized with Professor Michaels and Chef Riccardi."
"Why would any parent in their right mind keep their son caged in like that?" Ben demanded, the facts scattered about him in a way that he couldn't seem to piece them together.
"Some say because they were paranoid that something else might happen to him if he stepped a foot outside their mansion," he started, "But everyone knows it's because they wanted one less thing to worry about while they working for a covert branch of the government."
Ben's eyebrows raised. "Well, they're model parents."
"You don't know the half of it," all traces of a smile vanished from his face. He spared a fleeting glance at the boy beside him and realized the emotions he had just spiked inside of Ben. "Look at me; I'm giving you a bunch of negative scrap on your big day, man. You should be getting psyched—your final flight exam's today!"
"You don't think Ray's going to go easy on me, do you?" he asked, hoping he'd receive an answer somewhere along the lines of, ''Course he'd go easy on you!' No dice.
Lee let out a bark of laughter. "No chance in this millennium, Ben! Ray's not known for going easy on anyone when it comes to piloting."
Ben's stomach churned. So much for all his hopes.
They stopped in front of the sliding door to one of the millions of hangar decks on the gargantuan space station positioned at the center of Galaxy Beta. As Ben placed his hand on the scanner beside the door, he braced himself for the challenges that lay behind the entrance, conducted by none other than the reckless one of the Stellar Twins—Horatio Stellar.
Ben was only a year younger than the redheaded ace of a pilot, but Horatio had enough experience to pass as an eighty-nine-year-old war veteran. So Ben made no complaint when Horatio constantly called him, 'kid.'
As the door registered the print of his hand and immediately slid open when his identity was confirmed, Lee gave Ben a friendly slap on the back. "Good luck, Tennyson. You'll need it."
"I'm sure I will," he agreed.
Ben stepped into the Hangar Deck and Lee called just before the door slid shut.
"And Ben—! Don't forget your helmet."
Smiling to himself, Lee turned, shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, and trudged back down the hall. His thoughts quickly dragged him out of reality. This war was the main subject.
Sometimes, like now, he wondered why he even bothered. There wasn't much he could do unless the Fusions invaded a planet. But then he remembered that he was able to supply the station power and Angel preferred using him as a defibrillator more than the machine. He was useful, just not in the field he was used to being useful in. He was a fighter. Not a guy to sit on the sidelines. And he wasn't allowed to fly a starglider because his electrical powers had the annoying tendency to overpower him and do as they wish—sometimes draining the power inside the starglider.
But on the bright side he had met Ben. Talking to Ben tended to lift his spirits. He could be Lee Daring around Ben instead of a tool used by medics and electricians. He liked being a kid. But ever since he had discovered he was a mutant, being a kid was virtually impossible. The great thing about talking with the wielder of the Omnitrix was that he acted as though a glowing, electro-mutant was perfectly normal.
The sudden beeping of his communicator (seemingly a wristwatch) buzzed. He raised his left arm and pushed back the sleeve of his trench coat to reveal the device strapped on top of his gloves. Once he pressed the receive button, Grayson's face appeared on the miniscule screen.
"Lee, a refugee is suffering from ventricular fibrillation and requires immediate medical assistance specifically from a—"
"Human defibrillator?" Lee restrained the urge to sigh.
"Precisely. Report to the main elevator and accompany me to the shelter on the highest level of the station."
"Copy that, Gray," said Lee. After he had cut the transmission link, he broke into a run.
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"Hey, kid! Ready for your final exam?"
"I guess."
Horatio Stellar shook his head. "No, kid, you don't guess. You either know or you don't."
Ben would've liked to have pointed out to Horatio that seventy-five percent of the flight instructor's decisions were made on guesses, but the trainee had come to realize over the past several days that Horatio's rules applied to everyone but himself, of course.
The younger brunette corrected himself, "I am ready."
"Good. Take your helmet with ya this time, kid. I don't think I'll be covering for you again after our last little escapade."
Is anyone going to let me live that down? Ben wondered as he picked up his helmet and headed towards the starglider with two seats inside the cockpit for a co-pilot to be seated in the back.
Horatio seemed to pick up the thought and gave him a pat on his back, leaving a hand on his shoulder. "Don't sweat it kid—I might let it go . . . someday."
He let Ben go, and the brunette hopped into the pilot seat. The instructor seated himself behind Ben in the co-pilot seat and secured both his helmet and safety harness as did Benjamin.
"Now, here's how this exam's gonna work. I'm gonna shut up and watch what you do. Take notes and all that junk. You're gonna fly into an area known for having stranded Fusions flyin' solo. There's a good chance that a Fusion Starglider or two will show up. There's a good chance one won't."
Ben couldn't help the nauseating feeling creeping into his stomach. Fusions in space were a lot more dangerous than those Ben had known on Earth. Not only were they supplied with a seemingly unlimited amount of laser cannon fire, but they could multiply. As Dexter had said, "They multiply by a process similar to binary fission."
It was pretty rare for a lone Fusion Starglider to multiply, but Ben had witnessed the rare incident on his first trip out into space—the time he had forgotten his helmet that supplied him with oxygen and crucial when there was an oxygen leak in the cockpit.
"If one does show up, you do what you gotta do. Remember, this ain't a simulation. Slip up, and it could mean both our lives."
No pressure, Ben thought.
"And no worries—if you screw up bad enough, I'll take over control of the ship and get us out of here. But you'll get a D."
Ben quizzed, "What if there's more than one Fusion?"
"Turn tail and run, got it, kid?" Horatio said. "We're not risking our lives like that before the war even begins."
A sigh of relief was stifled. Horatio wasn't too cocky. At least not completely. Ben didn't think he had the training to take on multiple Fusion Stargliders solo. It was a good thing that Horatio agreed with him, though not aloud of course.
"Now, the exam has begun, and I'm shutting up," Horatio informed.
Another blessing. Horatio would not be hanging over his should yelling orders every time Ben flinched or hesitated. Ben revved the spacecraft's engines and activated the repulsorlifts, making the starglider hover above the ground. Before them was a red, semi-permeable shield that kept oxygen in, and space out while allowing ships to pass through unharmed.
The exam had begun.
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"Mr. Sevin? May I ask what 'ultimate weapon' you were referring to?" Dexter asked in the spacious, high-tech control center of the space station.
"You may," the computer system in the form of a holographic seventeen-year-old replied, "But I do not guarantee that you will receive all the information you'd like."
Dexter nodded, his blue eyes prompting the pastel green-haired computer system to go on.
"The ultimate weapon is the only thing that could wipe out an entire Fusion Planet with a single, low-powered blast," he replied. "I'm currently generating it out of my own technology in a heavily guarded, concealed room aboard this station. It will require a massive amount of electric power in order to destroy a good eighty-percent of the Fusion Mass. Therefore, it won't be until we are deep into this war when I have conserved enough energy to power the ultimate weapon that we will be able to fire said weapon. Many good lives will be sacrificed before it is ready. But it is the only way."
Nathan Conwell, a crippled boy the same age as Dexter with a similar intellect, mused, "We have Lee Daring, who is an electro-mutant, and an electricity generating robot by the name of Storm on board, correct? They may be able to help when the time comes."
"That is true. And there is also Trevor Sparks, a different sort of electro-mutant," Gabriel pointed out. "I'm hoping that all three of them will be in able condition to assist when the ultimate weapon is ready to be fired."
"What will be done about the remaining twenty-percent of the Fusion Mass?" Dexter quizzed.
Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back and sighed electronically. "We should have enough remaining of the Allied Forces to face the rest of the Fusion Mass."
Dexter did not like all the words being used. The only way. Hoping. Should. Many of those weren't assuring. But to be honest, Dexter was unable to think of an alternative. He would have to rely on the assumptions of Gabriel Sevin and the inhabitants of Galaxy Beta. This would be considerably challenging for him since he mainly only relied on things he invented. Rarely people. Even more so those he did not know well. It was his turn to hope.
