Edward Johnston swallowed his tablets as the door slid open.

Doris Davies, the Vice-Principal of Everard High School, walked in.

Johnston smiled at her. “Are the curriculum revisions updated?”

“All done.” Doris took a chair. “The new files have been uploaded to all texts and will appear on student tablets from tomorrow.”

“And the transfer intake?”

“One hundred forty-six students processed. We got four teachers from North Priamist High, and two from Shelterton. That’s all the teachers who survived the attacks?”

“Generally, schoolteachers don’t have a lot of luck fighting aliens,” remarked Johnston, “so it’s best we make do with the ones who did come back.”

“That’s not the question.”

Johnston winced. Doris had worked with him for over twenty years, ever since they’d been young teachers at a not-entirely-run-down school, and she’d long since learnt to catch out his evasions.

“Nineteen teachers survived the attack on North Priamist,” he said, “and thirty at Shelterton. Only ten of those have agreed to return to teaching. Tanisport Central got four, we got six.”

“The others?”

“They don’t want to stay in the city any more. Most are quitting. Some are looking at rural schools, or private work.”

“Could we talk to them?”

“I tried. The Superintendent tried. No luck.”

“But….”

“Leave it, Doris. They saw their kids being killed in front of them. That’s not something a teacher can recover from.”

Doris flinched.

The two of them sat silent for a few minutes.

Then Doris asked, “Do we know anything more about Martha Delft?”

“Only the statement we have from Wanda Mears.”

“Which you don’t trust.”

“You’re right, I don’t trust it one bit. It seems too damned self-serving. And we know what kind of kid Mears is.”

“You suspect foul play?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that Martha was hit by the aliens’ beam exactly the way Wanda describes it. It’s the other girl’s statement we haven’t heard.”

“I could speak to her.”

“Don’t bother. She’s extremely skittish with anyone except her brother. And if we probe too deeply, it could trigger traumatic flashbacks.” He sighed. “Which we don’t have anyone in the school trained to deal with, since we still don’t have a student counsellor.”

“I had Lily Burroughs do some digging.”

“Lily? Why her?”

“She’s taught Anne Drake art for the last few months. She says the girl expresses herself a lot in paintings. Good attention to detail, visualization, form…”

“Yes, yes, go on.”

“Well, the girl fits the stereotype of a loner. No friends, no effort to reach out and make new ones.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not that we’re aware of. Also, Anne never mentioned her brother before the incident.”

Johnston nodded. “He’s also not on any school records.”

“Studied elsewhere?”

“Any school records. Anywhere. Nationally.”

“I’m simultaneously scared of both the information and of how you got it.”

“I have a friend who knows a friend.”

“Right.”

“You saw the interview?”

“I did. I’m not sure what you see in him.”

“A young man with a terrific talent for debate.”

“That doesn’t justify taking on another student with our workload what it is.”

“Doris, you should think more broadly.” Johnston chuckled. “He says he’s been home-schooled his entire life. Which tallies with the fact that he’s not in any school databases anywhere I could find.”

“.... I find the home-schooling bit hard to believe.”

“So did I, at first. But he shows the signs.” Johnston ticked off his fingers. “Inconsistent knowledge, highly developed in some areas and weak in others. No particular fear of authority, at least not as represented by a teacher. Incredibly self-assured and self-confident.”

“.... That’s not all the signs.”

“Well, he hasn’t shown any of the negative ones.”

“.... True. I still don’t understand why you want him in school now.”

“First, for the reason I told him. We know there’s some bad blood between Wanda Mears and his sister; we can’t possibly keep it in check ourselves. This puts the responsibility on his shoulders.”

“Can he handle it?”

“That’s the second reason. His father’s in a coma, and as per our records the father was the earning member of the family. How do you think they’ve been putting food on the table?”

“Er…” Doris paused.

“He said he worked construction. Meaning, he went and got a job. Looked after his sister, paid the bills, paid for medical care. All while the city is in the state it is.”

“Huh. Not too many seventeen-year-olds who’d be able to do that.”

“I expected him to tell me he couldn’t join because of his job. But he agreed. Which means, he’s either got some way to tide them over while he studies, or his dad’s condition is getting better.”

“Do you think he could be … running drugs or gangs or something? Getting a job isn’t easy.”

“I asked him what he wanted to do for a career. He wants to run a repair shop.”

“.... So?”

“Kids who’ve run with the gangs have glamorous dreams. Films, acting, rap. Not mundane things like repair shops.”

“.... I didn’t know that.”

“It’s a question I ask every kid who’s even associated with a gang.”

Doris looked abashed. “I’ve never thought to ask….”

“Well, you learn something new every day.”

“But if all he wants to do is run a shop… is he worth the time?”

“Doris, that may be what he wants, but it’s not what he’s best at. What did you notice about him physically?”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, health-and-fitness-wise.”

“Well… he seemed reasonably fit.”

“Fit doesn’t describe it. He has muscles. The way he carries himself? I’d have thought he was a wrestler or a boxer - he’s got the physique for it. Six foot three, built like a linebacker, and with a sharp mind.”

“Edward… you sound a bit creepy.”

“Think, Doris. What career would you recommend to a straight-A student with a sharp mind, excellent fitness, and a deep-rooted protective instinct?”

“Er…” Doris’ eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

“I am. If he gets through the FSAT with a decent score, I’ll write him a letter of recommendation.”

“To the Police Academy?”

“You think too small, Doris. To West Point.”

“That’s…. Edward, you’ve only spoken to him for a half hour!”

“It’s enough, Doris.”

She paused. “You’re sure he’s not a…..”

“Be serious, Doris. Would an ultrahuman attend high school?... And more to the point, if someone attacked an ultra’s sister, would he react by complaining to the principal of the school?”

“... If he was an ultra, the school wouldn’t be standing right now.”

“True enough. And I have another reason for recommending him for the Army.”

“... another?”

“Who else do we know in this city who’s on the lookout for young, fit, intelligent men with an instinct to protect people?”

Doris turned pale. “You think he might get swept up by them?”

“All we know is that the Grunters have a seemingly inexhaustible supply of young men volunteering to put on Grumman’s armours and stick it to the alien. Do you really want that young man to get swept up in that?”

“... School could keep him out of the Grunters.”

“So could West Point. And then at least he’s fighting the good fight, and not for money alone.”

“... noted. You’re sure he worked construction?”

“I didn’t ask him for a certificate, but surely the shop teacher would be able to figure that out.”

“No doubt.” Doris leaned back. “Another point in favour of your not-an-ultra theory - he wouldn’t be working minimum wage if he was one.”

“Agreed. Now, what’s up with the classroom screens? I keep hearing complaints from the teachers..…”