Chapter 2

Monday morning he felt a little bit better, but still ravenously hungry, and he was not surprised to find he had grown again!. He measured himself against the mark he had put on the wall yesterday, and he was another inch and a half taller!

Another huge breakfast was already being cooked when he made his way downstairs. Because he had only his father’s clothes to wear, his parents had told him he could stay home today. His dad, being six foot, four inches tall but rail thin, the clothes were long for him but not too terribly baggy.

Today he would stay home and follow his mother’s suggestion, eating, exercising and sleeping. As soon as he woke up the same height as he went to sleep, he would be allowed to go back to school. After a shopping trip, of course!

Wednesday morning he was exactly the same height as when he had measured himself before going to bed, five foot, ten and one half inches tall. Overnight Monday he had started adding bulk and the process continued Tuesday night. He weighed himself Tuesday morning and had weighed in at one hundred and ten pounds. He spent the entire day eating and, when he woke Wednesday morning, he was at one hundred and twenty-two. It was evenly distributed on his frame, filling the hollows caused by his rapid growth, but it was still astonishing!

More importantly to Max, he had the beginnings of a mustache, just a fuzz, and his dick, starting out about the size of his index finger last Saturday, was now a respectable six and a half inches and three or four times as thick as it had been.

On Tuesday while his parents were out he had spent more time than he would ever admit to anyone, playing with his new toy. It seemed like it would pop to attention at the slightest provocation!

Mary Xander took her son to the Walmart first thing Wednesday morning, buying him just enough clothes to get through a couple of days, sure he was still filling out and growing. Once it seemed like he had stabilized, she promised Max that she would buy him nicer things.

She had to sign him into school, arriving about ten in the morning. She would have had to come anyway, now that he was fourteen. While he was legally an adult, if extracted, he was still living with his parents, and it was a heck of a lot easier to deal with the school administration with a parent at hand! She was going to sit with the counselor while Max decided which educational track to take.

“Good morning, Mrs. Xander, and good morning to you too, Max. Wow ... I would have sworn that you were a foot shorter, last time we met.” Mr. Parsons said, look at Max and scratching his jaw.

“I was.” Max said agreeably, smiling at the man.

He shrugged and looked at his computer screen. “It says here that you tested and are ... wow!” Mr. Parsons looked at the screen in shock. “Is this correct, Max? Your parents released your score to the school, and it says 8.9?”

Max nodded, feeling a little uneasy at the expression on the man’s face. “Yes, sir.”

Mark Parsons’s fingers dove to the keyboard, typing furiously for a moment, then watching his screen. Several clicks, and several facial contortions later, he looked back at Max and his mother.

“Well, it seems that you are going to be a problem. No, strike that. You are not a problem, you are an opportunity for us to see how well our system works. There are several flags on your account, Max. You are being monitored by the Confederacy, by the school district, the state and the federal government. All reports are copied to each of the monitoring agencies without fail. They have even specified an education track for you that is unusual.”

“Wait, so I can’t choose which way I want to go?” Max asked, alarmed.

“Well, no.” the older man shook his head, not looking happy. “There are slots available for you to fill with whatever classes you wish, one per semester, but your educational path is being dictated by the Confederacy.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Parsons, but under whose authority? My son is still my ward until he is extracted, and by their own laws, he is an adult who is free to NOT volunteer if that is his wish. By what right do they take over his education without so much as a by your leave?” His mother sounded pissed!

“I think we should include Principal Edwards in this conversation.” Parsons said, picking up his phone.

Moments later, a spare, authoritarian looking woman with a pinched face and her gray hair in a bun, strode into the office.

“What seems to be the problem, Mark?” She asked, her voice calm but leaving no confusion about who was in charge. Her eyes flicked over Max and his mother but, other than a nod to them, she concentrated on the councilor.

“Bernice, look at this first, then we can talk.” Parsons said, sliding out of his desk and offering her the chair.

She looked at him for a moment, then moved smoothly into the chair. She read for several minutes silently, the only change to her expression were her eyebrows that looked like they were trying to escape by crawling into her hairline.

“This is most unusual, and so very wrong.” Her expression got, if possible, even sterner.

“Mary, Max,” she addressed them for the first time, meeting each of their eyes briefly, flicking towards Mark Parsons for a second before returning to meet Max’s again.

“Max, I have never, in my twenty-two years at this institution, allowed outside agencies to dictate what is taught to students here. It has been, at times, an acrimonious battle to maintain a balanced curriculum in the face of changing political times, but I have never failed.”

Her voice was calm, but there was fire in her words.

“It took three years of experiments elsewhere before an advanced sponsor and concubine specific curriculum was developed that I could buy in to. I knew I was throwing away a lifetime of education experience, but my primary goal has been and will always be to provide the best possible education for the children in my charge.”

“Max, I will not allow the district, the state, the federal government and I sure as hell won’t allow the Confederacy to dictate that I force, force, a student into an education path against his will. If, after looking at the proposed course schedule, you and your parents disagree, we will assign courses that meet your personal goals, and the rest of them can go to hell.”

Max’s eyes were wide open, as was his mouth. He had heard the principal speak several times, at assemblies and over the loudspeaker for announcements, but he had never heard her talk like this. She was awesome!

Mary Xander just smiled, nodding her head. “Thank you, Bernice.”

The course schedule, as laid out by the Confederacy, was heavy in history. World history, American history, and military history. In addition, every other class on the schedule was a science track class, but they varied greatly. There were classes in biology and chemistry, geology and sociology, in computer science and physics. It was as if it were a sampler pack instead of a specialty course of instruction.

“I don’t understand the focus.” he said reviewing the printout Mrs. Edwards had handed him. “It looks like there is no focus. How am I supposed to be useful if I only know a little about a lot of things? Shouldn’t I be learning all I can about one area?”

“Command.” Mary muttered, shaking her head. She looked up at the principal, a scowl on her face. “This is preparing him for leadership, isn’t it?” she said, making the question into a statement.

“It looks that way to me, Mary. I think his score is driving this. They think he can be a leader. He may be in command of a base, or a fleet, maybe in the government somewhere? This kind of schedule would allow him to be a well-rounded, knowledgeable leader.” She shrugged, looking thoughtful.

“Max,” she said, turning back to him. “You are already leader of Max’s Minions.”

Max froze, shocked. Max’s Minions was a derogatory term used for him and his friends, and as many as a dozen more kids in his age group that didn’t fit in with one of the cliques. They would usually take up the back corner of the lunchroom, away from the others, and they grouped together as much for protection as they did company.

Tommy Ellis, one of the biggest bullies in the school and a kid who took great pleasure in tormenting kids too small to fight back, had coined the phrase the previous school year.

Tommy had been in the lunchroom picking on Mike Pepper, the boy genius, and Max, feeling sorry for the kid, had said something. What he hadn’t known was that as many as a dozen kids had followed him from the geek corner and were arranged behind him.

Tommy had looked surprised. “What’s this? Are you guys Max’s little minions, following his orders?”

Max had turned to see what Tommy was talking about, and the crowd behind him had given him a little extra courage.

“Let him go, Tommy, or do you think you can stuff us all into lockers before a teacher catches on?” Max had asked sarcastically.

“No problem, Max. But you won’t always have your minions at your back.” Tommy had snarled, letting go of Mike’s shirt and stalking off.

From that day forward, Tommy took to asking kids he was beating up if they were one of Max’s minions. He had no idea how the principal had heard about it.

“Well, ma’am, see, um, it’s not really, I mean...” he stuttered.

She smiled and shook her head, relating the story to his mother, almost exactly as it had happened. “Tommy is smart enough to avoid the teachers and the cameras outside, but we are not allowed cameras inside. We are keeping a very close eye on him and one more infraction will see him out of here so fast it will take a week for his gym shorts to catch up.” Mrs. Edwards said with a snarl.

Mary looked at her son with pride, previously unaware that he had already become a leader of sorts, and proud of him for standing up for someone smaller, even when it increased the risk to himself.

“Ma’am, if you think this is a good thing, I mean, I never thought of myself as a leader, really, not, you know, a real leader. If you think I can do this, then I will.” Max said, blushing.

He knew his friends listened to him, more often than not, and some other kids came and asked his opinions on stuff, but a leader was like, well, the president, right?

“Well, tell you what, Max. Let’s try it. Give it a few weeks and if we have to, we can tell them to go fly a kite later. I think it might just surprise you. Oh, and lest I forget, you will not be getting out of physical education. I want two periods of some kind of training on your schedule. With this growth spurt you are going through, that will be even more critical than it is normally. We will adjust your schedule to suit.

When they had finished setting up his schedule, Max wasn’t unhappy with the results. He would have World History in first period, swimming in second, physics third, biology fourth, then second lunch. After lunch it would be chemistry, military history, and last period would be something he had chosen over the objections of both his mother and the principal, unarmed combat, a course normally part of the Marine track.

When he left the office it was almost lunchtime, so Max hurried to the cafeteria and got in line; he was starving!

With two cheeseburgers, two orders of fries, three slices of pie, and two drinks on his tray, he headed to the rear of the cafeteria, to the tables usually occupied by the Minions. The first lunch crew was leaving, and one of the tables was empty, making it easy to find a spot.

“Holy shit dude, is that all for you?”

Max set his tray down and turned to figure out who asked. Jim Shelton was standing there looking at him in confusion. Jim had been one of Tommy’s sycophants last year, until he had discovered girls and become somewhat bearable.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“Max Xander. I had a little growth spurt.” Max said quietly, wondering what the boy would do with that info.

“No shit! Dude, you doubled your size!” Jim said with a laugh, turning to leave.

Max shrugged, pleased that it hadn’t turned into something ugly, and sat down to eat. He had already plowed through one of his burgers, one drink and both orders of fries before the first person from second lunch joined him. He had been so busy stuffing his face that he hadn’t even heard the bells!

Will Moore, was a regular at the table, but he had sat down at the far end and was looking at him suspiciously. As Max chewed, a dozen more people showed up, all of them looking askance at him. It wasn’t until Alan, Toby and Thea, who gave him a kiss on the cheek, showed up that people seemed to realize who he was!

There was a flood of questions from all sides, lots of smiles and comments, and even a few snarky insults thrown his way, but he just finished off the burger before replying.

He took a minute to explain his solved pituitary issue and his sudden growth spurt. He left out that it had been accelerated during his test, and moved on to his pie.

“Exercise and training will allow you to maximize your adjustment.” Toby said quietly, picking up his sandwich and taking a bit. As always, when Toby said something, everyone else got quiet for a minute. Max just grinned and nodded, handing Toby his class schedule.

Toby looked it over, taking another bite of his sandwich, and nodded.

Thea reached across the table and snatched the page, reading over his course schedule and a thoughtful expression appeared on her face. Without a word, she handed it to Alan.

“Max, what the fuck, dude? I thought you were going to go straight physics?” Alan asked, confused.

“Tell you about it later.” Max said, sliding the sheet back into his backpack. Alan looked like he was going to protest, but after a glance around at the others, he nodded.

Talk turned to testing, as it usually did, and someone from the end of the table called down, “Hey Max, aren’t you testing today?”

“Already did, but you guys know that the four musketeers are keeping quiet until we all test.” he said with a grin.

“Aw, come on, Max! We know you are a sponsor; we just want to know how many sluts ... I mean, slots, you have for concubines!” There was a lot of laughter at the table, only Thea and one other girl, Missy Fedder, looking annoyed.

Missy Fedder was an easy five foot, ten inches tall and thin, almost too thin. She dressed exclusively in black, wearing combat boots and even her fingernails were painted that color. Her hair, long and silky, was flaming red and her skin was so pale, you might have thought her an albino. She rarely smiled and was quick to lash out at anyone who thought that she, as an outsider, might be an easy target.

“Keep it up, laughing boy. I’ll be laughing when I pass you over in favor of a slut who can keep his mouth shut.” she growled, making most of the people at the table laugh even louder.

When the first bell rang, the group headed for the doors, dumping garbage in the bins on the way out.

Max headed for his first class of the day, Chemistry, and went straight to the instructor with the slip from the office.

Jackson Long, the instructor, read over the slip and nodded. Having students transfer in, after reaching fourteen and testing, was not something unusual.

“Welcome. Find a seat at the back of the class until everyone gets here. I think we have an empty seat at a table, and I’ll pair you up with the singleton.”

The class filled quickly, the students, mostly older, were chatting and pairing up at the two-seat lab tables. Max watched as almost all of the students paired off, leaving two tables open. Just as the bell rang, he saw a flash of red and black hurry in, sliding into a seat at one of the empty tables.

Missy!

“Mr. Xander, grab a seat there with Ms. Fedder. You two can pair up for this class.” Mr. Long said, not looking up from his desk.

Max slid into the empty seat, turning to see Missy’s eyes on him, a slight frown on her face. He shrugged and smiled, as if to say that this was not his idea, and looked forward again.

“Mr. Xander, before I forget, grab a book from the shelf in the rear. You will need it.” Mr. Long called out, then stood up and circled the desk to the front, leaning back against it and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yesterday I asked you to read ahead in chapter twenty-two. Who can tell me what happens when you immerse Sodium Na, commonly called Sodium Metal, in water?” he asked.

“An explosion!” A guy in the front row yelled, getting laughs from the others.

“Okay, fine, but why?” Mr. Long asked, waving for everyone to be quiet.

A girl in the front of the class raised her hand and Mr. Long pointed to her.

“Rapid electron release creates free hydrogen and an exothermic reaction that feeds on the hydrogen. It happens so quickly that most of what you see is actually steam.” she said primly, taking her seat again.

“Good, and that is correct. Some scientists were baffled because they theorized that the rapid creation of steam and hydrogen would create a buffer layer and actually dampen the process. It took extremely high-speed photography to actually capture evidence that the electron created positively charged alkali ions which repel and cause a so-called Coulomb explosion. Did anyone get curious enough to look up what a Coulomb explosion is? “ Mr. Long asked, smiling at the class. A half-dozen hands went up.

Max sat back and smiled, turning to the correct chapter of the book. He had a feeling he was going to like this class!

The class flew by and the bell rang just when it seemed it was getting even better. With a smile, Max slid his book into his bag and, since he and Missy were at the last table, they were first out the door.

Turning left, he made it only two or three steps before he felt a hand on his arm.

“Max?”

He turned, surprised to see Missy standing there, the corner of her mouth quirked up in an almost smile.

“Hey, Missy. What’s up? Do you want me to see if I can get a different partner?”

She looked confused for a second, then rolled her eyes. “No. Listen, did I hear you say that you tested already?”

Max nodded, wondering where this was going.

“You got that thing with your dork friends, right? No telling until everyone tests?”

Max bristled, not liking where this was going.

“Hey, I don’t mean anything, it’s just ... look, I don’t know what your score was, and if you don’t want to tell me, fine. Just take this.” she said, shoving something into his hand. “I scored a 6.8” she said, then turned and stalked off.

He looked down at the slip of paper in his hand and opened it up.

If your score sucked, I still need one more concubine. Call if interested. it read, and there was a phone number.

Max looked up, but he couldn’t see a trace of her in the hallway. He was astonished at the feelings whipping around inside of him. Dislike at the way she talked about his friends, delight that she even considered him as a concubine, and a bit of trepidation about what her reaction would be when she learned his score. So far, just his parents and the office staff at the school knew, but scores were never secret very long.

He stuffed the note in his pocket and turned, headed for his next class.

Military History turned out to be interesting too, maybe even more than chemistry. The teacher, a retired Army Major named Franks, was lecturing about the Mongol hordes, and how, when angered, they would drive every living thing before them, often encircling them. When they were done, nothing living was left behind.

The comparison between the Mongols and the Sa’arm was apparent even to the dimmest student in the class, though there was a heated discussion of the motivations of the Sa’arm.

His last class had him a bit worried, but now that he was finally growing, maybe he could finally put a stop to some of the bullying he had experienced.

Unarmed Combat was taught by a retired Marine Master Sergeant named Buckminster, or so his handout said. When he walked into the gymnasium at the appointed time, he saw a dozen students with ages ranging from his own fourteen up to what would have been a senior, now a level twelve, at seventeen.

The only adult there was a small, pale man with thinning hair who barely weighed more than Max, so he spent a couple of seconds looking around the room, waiting.

“Ahmmm. “ Someone cleared his throat behind Max, and he spun around, finding himself face to face with the pale man. The man was about Max’s size, and up close, he could tell that the man was probably in his forties.

“Are ya supposed to be here, son?” the lilting brogue reminded Max of something, but he was too surprised to remember what, exactly.

“Yes sir. Transfer in.” Max said, handing over the office slip to the man.

“Ah. I’m Aberforth Buckminster, the instructor, and if ye’ll take your place with the others?” he asked quietly, waving towards the waiting students, several of whom were smirking.

Max had managed to screw up already, but he kept his face calm and joined the other students.

“Mr. Xander, since you are new, you’ll not be very familiar with how things work. I’ll be expecting you to try and catch up with the others, if possible.” Mr. Buckminster said, moving to stand in front of the class.

“Mr. Wallace. Can ye be giving our new student a brief summary on what we do here?” he asked, pointing to the oldest student.

The older boy jumped to his feet. “Yes Sir. Unarmed combat is a physical confrontation between two or more persons without the use of weapons.”

“And why is learning this important, Ms ... Sanboron?” Buckminster asked, pointing to a girl about Max’s age.

“The primary advantage to training in unarmed combat is the ability to be both offensive and defensive without having to rely on technological aids. You are never disarmed, even if naked.” she said, loudly and clearly.

“And what other advantages do we find when training in unarmed combat, Mr...” his arm was out and he was moving it back and forth across the students in front of him. Max could see that they were all ready to be chosen, almost straining, wanting to be the next one.” Creely?”

A boy, just a little older and a bit thick around the middle, jumped to his feet with surprising agility.

“Physical fitness, agility, improved hand-to-eye coordination, a greater awareness of your surroundings, an improved sense of self-worth and a reduction in anxiety, sir!”

“Verra good, all of you. So, you see, Mr. Xander, we teach more than just how to hit someone. We teach ourselves to be self-reliant, to be prepared.” He looked at Max for a second and nodded. “For the next week, I want you to work with Mr. Wallace. He will start you on the path.”

He turned away and the rest of the students gathered around him while Max headed towards the older student.

“Lane Wallace,” the older boy said with a grin, holding out his hand.

“Maximillian Xander, but most call me Max.” he replied, reaching out and grabbing the older boy’s hand. As soon as he made contact, he found himself flying through the air and intercepting the ground with astonishing velocity.

When the stars in his eyes faded enough to see the grinning boy standing over him, he blinked, and started to get mad.

“Whoa, champ. Listen, I know you think that was rotten and underhanded and sneaky and a hundred other things, but it is the first lesson we all learned when we started with that bastard. Never, ever, let your guard down. It was nothing personal.” Wallace said, holding both hands up in surrender.

“Now, you have my word that I won’t do that again. Today anyway.” Wallace said with a wink, offering him a hand up.

Max wondered if he were just setting himself up, but he reasoned that if Wallace were lying, better to know now than get surprised later. He grasped Wallace’s hand and was given help getting back on his feet.

“Okay, now that we got that out of the way, we need to see where your physical fitness lies on the spectrum. Somewhere between sloth and superman, for sure, but where? The standard test is sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups and a run. What order you want to do them in is up to you, but my suggestion is to do pull-ups, run, push-ups then sit-ups. It will give your arms and shoulders a chance to rest, and your core a chance to rest. We will record your counts now, and then weekly to see what kind of improvements you are making.”

Max nodded. “Are there specific workouts I can use to develop faster?”

“Absolutely, and an excellent question. I wish I had asked my first day. I was a football player, back before it got canceled, and thought I was in shape. Mr. Buckminster, that little guy over there, showed me how out of shape I was!” Wallace said, shaking his head. “Ready to start?”

He led Max over to a bar, hanging about six and a half feet above the ground.

“Pullups are simple, but very hard. You grasp the bar with your palms facing outwards. Then without kicking your legs, simply pull yourself up until your chin clears the bar. Do not drop down! Slowly come down until your arms are extended and do it again.” He instructed and watched as Max got ready.

Max managed to do twelve before his arms gave out and he dropped to the ground, embarrassed. Wallace just smiled and wrote down the number.

“Not bad at all! A lot of them couldn’t do one when they started.”

Max was surprised. He could only assume that the muscle the nanites were packing on him were the answer.

Next was the run, so Wallace directed him out to the track. “Each lap around the field is one quarter mile. The test is your time in the mile, or four laps. Start when ready.”

Max took a deep breath, then started running. He found it strangely relaxing, running along the track with just his thoughts for company. He was surprised when Wallace called a stop, thinking that he hadn’t gone far enough, but the older boy was writing down him time on the sheet. “Eight minutes, forty seconds. Not threatening any records by any means, but not horrible.”

Push-ups were harder than he thought, but he managed thirty-two before collapsing and with sit-ups, he managed forty-one.

He spent the last part of the period going over exercises that would help him build muscle and endurance.

By the time he was out of the shower, he found he was almost faint with hunger and had a massive headache. A quick stop at a vending machine helped both as his blood sugar got a massive hit from the two candy bars he bought, and he made it the mile and a half home with no problems.

He was stuffing his face with his third sandwich when his parents came in.

“Still at it, son?” his father asked with a chuckle. “I had an appetite when I was younger, but I have never seen anyone put away the calories like you do!”

Max, shrugged, smiled and stuffed another bite in his mouth, chewing contentedly.

He had just finished, and gulped down the last of the new half-gallon of milk, when there was a knock at the door.

A moment later, his mother called him. “Max, honey, it’s for you.” Her voice sounded strange, a bit frightened almost, and Max was almost run down by his father as they both moved to the entryway.

There, framed in the doorway, was a man about the same size as the pair of Marines at the testing center.

“Maximillian Xander?” asked the deep, rumbling voice.

Max nodded, waving his hand.

“May I see some identification, sir?”

Max pulled out his CAP card and handed it over, really noticing the bulk of muscle that seemed to overwhelm the doorway. Muscles like that have to come in handy in combat, he thought, wondering how much of it was induced and how much was training.

“Sir, I have been instructed to escort you to Luna Base for a checkup. The medbay in the testing center made adjustments to your metabolism and they need to be monitored occasionally.” the man said, returning his card.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Max asked.

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that.” the man rumbled, sounding embarrassed. He held out his own CAP card. “Corporal Johan Bently, and I am the Junior NCO of the watch. I was asked come and fetch you. We have a transport pad we would like to set up inside, away from the eyes of the public, if you don’t mind?” He asked, though it was more in the manner of an order than a question.

Max looked at his parents, but they seemed to be waiting for him to decide. He shrugged, stepped aside and motioned the Corporal and his men inside.

The other Marine, also in civilian clothes, followed and when he reached the kitchen, set three-foot circle of light blue material on the floor. At the second man’s nod, Corporal Bently didn’t hesitate and stepped onto the circle. Just like that, he was ... gone.

The second Marine waved Max forward. Max kissed his mother on the cheek, took a breath, and stepped onto the circle. In what seemed like less than an instant, his next step took him into an enclosed room. He was standing on a much larger blue pad and Corporal Bently was waving him on.

“You need to keep moving when using transports, sir, to make way for people following.” he explained.