Shannon folded her arms tightly across her chest in the classic defensive posture of the timid.  Barely lifting her head to glance around she picked a desk at the back of the room that happened to be flooded with morning sun.  Sliding into the seat she closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

          Aro’Fi, winged elven cleric of Plume hovered at the foot of a long narrow mountain ridge.  Her prey, ungodly monsters collectively known as wraiths move up the path at intervals, patrolling the area they had captured only a few seasons ago.  At the nearby fortress the Wraith Hunter has tasked her with this little patrol but had encouraged her not to interfere unless she was absolutely assured of making good her escape.

          She smiled grimly.  If a winged elf couldn’t escape, humans and beast-kind would have no better luck.  A Yuyan stumbled noisily up the path, its armor plates opening and closing as it trudged.  A few Plume Shots and a couple Whirlwinds could have it dead in a few seconds she was sure.

          It may have seem a bold move to step out in the monster’s path but she knew all Wraiths had terrible senses until you hit one, then they became firmly targeted on you.  Taking a deep breath she drew in the power of lightning until it sparked from her hand then released it, striking the Yuyan just as the armor plates opened.

          It howled, then charged toward her.  As she readied a Plume Shot the thing scooped up the stones of the earth and hurled them at her, hoping to daze her and break her concentration.  Ignoring the stone splinters that ripped through her robes, she released the Plume Shot and scored another hit.

          Realizing she’d suffered more than she’d expected by the warm trickle of blood flowing down her side, she struggled to recall the incantation and gesture for a healing spell, as she began casting, the Yuyan again hurled stones at her.  One piece bounced off the light helmet she wore and for a moment the world went dark.

          A deep musical twang was the first thing that she comprehended as the greyness cleared.  Looking up from her position on her side she could make out the form of a tall and powerful elf drawing a bow to this ear and releasing as fast as he could.  When he stopped after a third arrow he knelt beside her and lifted her into his arms.

 She blinked owlishly at an uncommonly rugged archer with sapphire eyes as he spread vast eagle’s wings and vaulted into the air.  Banking to the right he leveled out a dozen meters off the ground and headed for the distant fort.  As he came over the palisade he flared out and dropped lightly to the muddy floor of the compound.  Unhurriedly he strode to a tent and ducked inside.

Gently he laid her on a folding cot then began to untie her robe . . .

Shannon blinked, someone had spoken to her.  Coming out of her revelry she found a pair of heart-stopping turquoise eyes watching her.  The boy from the SUV had seated himself in the desk in front of her and had twisted to face her. 

“Pardon?” she said, blushing at having been caught daydreaming ... or was it his eyes?

“I did not mean to interrupt your vision quest,” he said with his oddly stilted accent.  “I asked if you were feeling unwell.”

In the car he’d been wearing a coat, totally unsuitable for the weather and she hadn’t noticed him pause to take it off and hang it from a coat rack as they entered.  Now he was wearing a black tee shirt that looked spray painted on the most incredible chest she’d ever seen.  Something rustled softly and she looked up just in time to see him spread his wings.  Eagle wings.  Shrugging his shoulders as if to loosen tight muscles, the wings all but disappeared behind his back as he folded them.  Her eyes widened, lips forming an ‘O’.  For a moment she thought she detected a hint of a smile from the boy.

“You said Ernest,” she fumbled with the old-fashion sounding name.

“Ern,” he replied.

“Ern,” she said.  ‘Isn’t that a sea eagle?” 

“Yes,” he said “I am also called Eagle by my tribe.”

“My name is Shannon but my friend called me Glory,” she offered.

Ern regarded her with those amazing eyes then smiled.

“Appropriate,” he agreed.

She blushed furiously.

Around her other members of her new class wandered in and selected their desks.  Shannon glanced from face to face until a tall Nordic blonde came in and sat beside her.  The girl smiled warmly and leaned closer.

“Hi,” she said, offering a hand.  “Malin Tornquist, Mal.”

Ern waited for Shannon to speak, which really surprised her.  No one ever deferred to her and for a moment she was at a loss.

“Shannon Flores,” she took the offered hand.

“Ern Ts’aak,” the boy said with a dip of his head.

Mal seemed to beam at them.

“I am very happy to meet you both,” she said.

The last to enter the room was a tall young man, older than any in the room, with a distinctly military bearing.  Shannon cringed at the sight of him.  Without him saying a word she thought of her overbearing father, the CAPTAIN of Detectives, back home.  Mal reached across the aisle and gave Shannon’s arm a squeeze then a reassuring smile when their eyes meet.  She was grateful for the gesture but also grateful the man chose to sit front and center.

Agent Miller stepped to the front of the class.  There was something in his eyes Shannon didn’t like.  She could tell, it wasn’t that he was anything like her father; it was a feeling like he viewed them all as … bugs.

“You are to be the first graduates of the Minutemen program,” Miller began.  “You have been selected to serve your country in a difficult time for the Nation.  With the events of 7-4 still fresh in our minds and to help prevent a reoccurrence, the President has personally established this program to provide the United States with duly authorized teams of specially trained ...” He seemed to reconsider his words.  “Persons of Power.  In the future, it will be you defending the Nation from such acts of terrorism as well as combating the growing problem of hyper-powered criminals and vigilantes.”

“For the most part, your education here will be a traditional one to prepare you to move on into the field of your choice in college ... but you will also be trained in the use of your particular ... abilities in the context of a team as well as individually.  At this time I would like each of you to stand, state your name and provide a brief description of you ... powers.”  He made a gesture to Mr. Military who popped to attention.

“Mark Law,” he snapped.  “Flight and strength.”  He dropped back into the seat, sitting at attention.

The African-American girl stood, ear buds buried in her ears.  She rolled her eyes at Miller and sneered.

“Belle Campbell,” she said.  “I control sound.”

She flopped into the desk and buried her chin in her chest, eyes closed, concentrating on her music.

The young black kid that had taken Ern’s seat on the couch stood.

“Q Dalton, genius.”

He returned to his seat.

A handsome Latino climbed to his feet.

“Carlos Sentara,” he announced then blurred as he did several laps around the room.  “I’m fast!”  He slouched back down and eyed Mal.

“Cari Masterson,” the next girl said with a prominent Texas accent.  “I teleport.”  She sat, eyeing Mark Law.

An athletic brunette stood, “Rachel Thomas, I beat people up.”

Shannon blinked at this, a little worried.  She certainly wasn’t looking forward to this whole thing if they had someone with that type of attitude.

“Mari Trelane,” the next said then rapidly shifted in to duplicates of everyone in the room, ending with Mal.  “Shapeshifter.”

Ern stood.

“I am Ern Ts’aak,” he said.  “I fly and control the wind.”

He sat and Mal stood.

“Mal Tornquist,” she declared.  “I can alter my molecular structure.”  Flipping her long hair back she resumed her seat and it was Shannon’s turn.

Blushing, she rose, “Shannon Flores,” she said hurriedly.  “I ...“ she wasn’t sure what to call it so she began to glow.

“She controls solar energies,” Miller said, pacing across the front of the room.  “Now, these are the rules.  One!  The only places you are allowed to display any of your abilities are your dorm and the gym when it is secured for such activity.  Displays in other areas will bring consequences.”  He stopped before Mark Law.  “Two!  You are required to ask permission prior to leaving campus and there is a 9 PM curfew.  Three!  This is a coed dorm, sexual activity of any kind will be dealt with severely.”

Mal’s hand went up

“Ms. Tornquist?”

“Are there any forms of surveillance in the dorm area, particularly the living areas?”

“We only want to protect you from outside interference and from accidental discovery of your powers by others.” the Man replied. 

“So there ARE cameras,” Mal surmised.

Shannon shifted uncomfortably in her seat and surreptitiously scanned the room’s more obvious camera hiding spots.

“It is not the policy of the United States Government to spy on minors,” Miller scowled at Mal Tornquist.

“But for us you will make an exception,” she said, meeting his eyes.

Miller turned away and gestured to the door.  “Now I will turn the class over to Mr. Fred Harding who will complete your orientation.  One other thing ... all of the staff is aware of your special ... abilities.”

He passed a black man in his late forties on the way out.  Mr. Harding was a bit taller than average with a well-padded middle and an easy smile.  He sat on the edge of the desk and regarded the class.

“Good morning,” he said.  “As Mr. Miller said, my name is Fred Harding and I will be not only your Homeroom teacher but English as well.  I am also the boy’s advisor though any of the young ladies may feel free to come to me if they wish.”

“At this point you nine will be the only live-in students at this school but to help train you in concealing your talents, we will also have a regular student body made up of the former students of the Point Loma High School this facility has been built to replace,” he said.  “Part of your training will be fitting in with the rest of the student body and to maintain at all times, the secret of your powers.”

Mal raised her hand.

“Ms. Tornquist?” Mr. Harding pointed at her.

“How will the nine of us being the only residents help us to fit in?” she asked.  “I would think it would draw attention.”

“Good question,” Harding smiled.  “You are just the FIRST live-ins.  A number of other students will be arriving shortly to take up residence.”

“They gonna be like us?” the black girl, Belle asked.

“No, but others with powers will be joining as they are located and recruited,” Harding told them.  “At this time the plan is for teams to be formed at the rate of one per year.  You are Team Red.”

“Thas it, Team Red?”  the boy, Carlos, said.

“I suppose the more accurate title would be the Minuteman Project, Team Red,” Harding replied.  “Later teams will be Team White and Team Blue.”

“How patriotic,” Mari, the shape shifter, said drolly.  At the moment she looked like the soldier boy at the front of the room and the soldier boy did not look happy about it.

“Ms. Trelane, shall we keep to our own shapes in class?” Mr. Harding said.

She shrugged her once-again female shoulders and said “I don’t do it on purpose … usually.”  There as a mischievous glint in her blue eyes and she smiled coquettishly at Mark Law.

The hiss of air brakes and the background rumble of a number of big engines penetrated the class and as a body the group moved to the windows lining one wall.  That side of the building overlooked the driveway at the front of the building that was now filling with a line of some twenty school buses.  Beside her, Shannon saw Ern was frowning.

“The rest of your school mates,” Harding explained.  “They have just found out about the move to this new school.”

The doors on the first four buses squeaked open and students began to file off carrying book bags, gym bags and back packs, each of them with the same look of bewilderment.

“We’re from the government and we’re here to help,” Ern’s whisper was just audible to Shannon and Mal who both looked over at him.  He gave them a slight smile.  “My people have been hearing it for over 300 years.”

Mal touched his arm in understanding and Shannon’s eyes followed the gesture.  Silently she wished she’d had the nerve to do that but of course she didn’t.

“Alright,” Mr. Harding said, breaking the silence.  “Take your seats, we still have a few things to talk about.”