“You, Crawford, come with me.” A Rosenkreuz Administrator who looked as though he could have easily benched Brad said, after slamming the door open to one of the precognitive training classes. The teacher, Mr. Levin, was left with his mouth hanging open, looking something like a fish. No doubt he’d been ready to say something to the intruder, but had then noticed it was an Administrator. Administrators outranked Teachers, and Teachers outranked Nannies.

“Do you have a problem with this Levin?” The Administrator asked, booming voice both cheerful and intimidating simultaneously.

“N-no, of course not Mr. Fournier.” Levin deferred.

Brad calmly stood up and left the room with the Administrator, and his classmates fixed him the kind of looks reserved for someone they never planned to see alive again. He wondered if, despite his carefully viewed visions for his future emancipation, that they were right. One of the annoying things about viewing the future was that he was always seeing possibilities, not plans. Just because he’d Seen himself defeating Esset didn’t necessarily mean he was free from death before that point. The Administrator, Mr. Fournier, could realistically take him into any room in the grounds and slit his throat, and technically his visions would still be accurately defined as ‘precognitive’.

But Mr. Fournier didn’t lead him off to some quiet room for death. Brad found himself walking the as-lately familiar path to the Telepaths’ barracks. Of course. Schuldig was causing a disturbance again.

Fournier looked down at Brad (by at least a foot), and spared him a grin. “I’m told you’re the only one who can control the little terror.”

Brad wasn’t sure how to answer. This could easily be a trick. Still, he hesitated only a second. “He likes me for some reason. I guess I’m just good with kids.”

“Me, I’m not so good. So I asked them who else is good with children. And then Schuldig himself said he wanted to speak with you, and I was told you are actually a precognitive psychic, not a telepath.” Fournier snorted. Telepaths, or at least talented ones, were few and far between. Therefore, the ones who rose to rank in the Organizations had a tendency to cop attitudes. Precogs were a lot more common. “But I suppose Talents don’t have much to do with baby sitting. Did you baby sit a lot?”

“I had two little brothers and my mom worked a lot.” He answered. Normally he didn’t like to talk about his family with anyone at Rosenkruz, lest they seek his family out, but mental images of Darren and Clifford tended to come to the forefront of his thoughts whenever he was taken to see Schuldig, who was increasingly becoming like a third little brother to him, and he had no chance of masking this from an Administrative Telepath, so he didn’t bother trying.

“I see. That explains it. I was taken from my family before I could become good with children. I did not see my little siblings for that long. I am bad with children. And this child, he is one of the worst. But he has spirit. You don’t see much spirit here.” Fournier said with another grin.

Brad nodded. Once again, it seemed pretty pointless to contradict him.

They reached the building, and Fournier waved and nodded at acquaintances as they walked through the hallways. Brad was surprised to see that not all of them, even the inferiors, seemed fearful of Fournier. He was possibly well liked as a person, which was startling for someone who had survived to work in Rosenkruz.

Finally they ended in a classroom where a whole host of Administrators sat in a semi circle, with Schuldig in front of them. He sat on the floor, cross legged, with his arms folded stubbornly in front of him. A pad of paper was opposite him and a package of Crayola markers. He’d written Arschloch in large red letters. Brad snorted, and the other Administrators glared at him. Not Fournier, though. He laughed, a deep and booming laugh.

“See? I told you, the kid has spirit.”

Brad looked at Mr. Fournier, expecting some kind of orders, but none were forthcoming. Schuldig waved excitedly at him.

“I’m getting my German back Brad! I still don’t know my name though. So you can keep calling me Schuldig for now.”

“O-okay. Um…are you coloring?” He asked hesitantly. Schuldig may not have minded being in a room with some of the most intimidating people in Rosenkruz, who were all actively hammering at his mind, but he certainly did. Schuldig looked at him with some measure of confusion for a moment.

“Oh.” He said simply, and then Brad was suddenly alone with his thoughts. None of the Administrators could penetrate his mind: Schuldig had shielded him again. “You’re welcome.”

“Take that down this instant!” An ancient looking woman with a prominent hook nose shrieked. “You are not to be erecting mental shields for your friends, that is a protection they need to earn through their own hard work!”

“Well maybe they could learn it a little easier if you weren’t always prying, Frau Martins.” Schuldig shot back.

“Schuldig…” Brad whimpered.

“What? Oh, right, diplomacy. You were teaching me about that before.” He looked at the Administrators again. “That’s when you get people to do what they might not want to do by saying things in a special way. Brad taught me that.”

“Oh he did, did he? And when did he teach you that?” A corpulent and squat Administrator asked.

Schuldig shrugged. “I dunno. Time kinda runs together in a place this miserable.”

Brad could feel a moan of displeasure coming on, but luckily Mr. Fournier cut the tension in the room with another booming laugh. Schuldig smiled at him, but the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. He looked at Brad, and Brad heard Schuldig’s voice very clearly in his mind.

Brad opened his mouth to say something, but something about Schuldig’s expression stopped him. <They don’t know I can talk to you without saying it aloud. Don’t let them find out or they’ll listen in. But you can think back to me.>

“What are you working on? Are you coloring?” Brad tried asking again.

“Of course he’s not coloring.” The hook nosed administrator, Mrs. Martins, snapped. “A roomful of Administrators would not waste their time watching a child color. Honestly, precogs.”

Schuldig glared at the woman. “I’m sure it’s so much better to sit here and watch me do nothing. Because I’m not gonna do it.”

“Do what?” Brad asked.

“It doesn’t matter, I won’t do it! Not even if you ask me to do it Brad, I won’t.” Schuldig picked up the red marker and started adding more curse words to the picture he’d started, some in English as well as German.

Fournier had moved to stand behind him, and Brad only noticed when he felt Fournier’s massive hand on his shoulder. He was laughing again, but there was something slightly menacing to it. “Oh child, you have some spirit but that’s only because you still don’t understand how this place works. We didn’t bring your friend here to ask you nicely to comply.” The massive hand moved slowly, almost like a caress, until thick fingers were curled around Brad’s neck. “You will do what we tell you, because we are the Administrators and you are an ant. Or I can break this boy’s neck right here and now. It is not so good for you to have these friendships if they will make you defiant.”

Schuldig capped the marker, stood up and faced Mr. Fournier. He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head to the side, obviously gauging the man. “The precog Administrators really like Brad. He’s really good with his Talent, just like I am. You wouldn’t kill him, because you wouldn’t kill me either. We’re good at what we do and you need us.”

“Child we don’t need anyone.” Fournier laughed. As if to demonstrate, with his free hand Fournier quickly and neatly broke Brad’s arm. Fournier’s other hand all the while stayed warningly on his neck. To his credit Brad didn’t cry out, but he wanted to. Schuldig’s eyes widened fearfully. He hadn’t expected Fournier to do that. Schuldig stuck a finger in his mouth and bit down. He looked like he wanted to cry.

“But I don’t want to!” He whimpered.

“Fine. Mr. Crawford, do you think you need two arms? Do you think you need your neck?” Fournier asked pleasantly.

Brad’s breathing was ragged. Pain was shooting up his broken arm, and Fournier was turning it to make sure he got the full effect.

“No! No, don’t kill him. I’ll do it.” Schuldig said quickly. He closed his eyes and turned to face the other Administrators. “I already did it anyway, I just wasn’t telling you. There are four girls in the level three hand to hand defense class thinking bad thoughts about Rosenkreuz right now. Their names are Sinal Sriram, Marya Kvetko and Jane Douglas. There are two boys training with Mr. Suzuki for mental shielding who are thinking bad thoughts. Their names are Jason Redfield and Li Park. And there are three kids in the cafeteria thinking bad thoughts. Kim Davens and Lisette Lamontagne and Hans Spregman.”

“Can you write those names down, like we asked?” A balding man with a long, thin nose asked.

Schuldig picked up the red marker and wrote all the names clearly on a piece of paper. He handed it to the balding administrator, and then resumed his place standing respectfully in front of them.

“If I may interject, useful though this relationship is…let’s face it, Mr. Crawford has been able to persuade this boy to be…compliant more than once…I find it to be potentially cumbersome.” Martins said. “Perhaps we should eliminate the young man.”

“I did what you wanted!” Schuldig whined.

“The dependence is unfortunate.” The corpulent man agreed.

“Now now people, I don’t think this is a bad thing yet. Schuldig is still young, is he not? He is learning. And they are both talented. Schuldig has a will, but this Mr. Crawford here sets a good example. He did not even yell when I hurt him, and trust me it did hurt. I think it is a good thing, if we manage it right. That is why we have let them meet so often, is it not?” Fournier announced.

The two Administrators who had spoken didn’t seem to share Fournier’s optimistic assessment, but the others all murmured their agreement.

“Now, Mr. Crawford is in a bad way. And we have gotten what we wanted from the child. I think he deserves a reward. Why don’t you walk with me and your friend to the medical building?” Fournier asked. Without waiting for an answer he steered the two boys from the room.

They walked a few minutes in silence. Schuldig, who looked younger than ever at the moment, was crying softly. He was fully aware he’d just sent eight people to their deaths and possibly endangered the person who was supposed to take care of him. Brad was resisting the urge to join in. He couldn’t find an angle to hold his arm that didn’t result in searing pain, and he wasn’t quite sure the Administrators were finished with him.

“You boys should be careful. You keep being this friendly with each other, there will be trouble.” Fournier cautioned. “But you see I am a fair man sometimes too. You spend the night together in the medic building and you talk about what you want to do, and Mr. Bradley, I think you need to tell Mr. Schuldig there something about how he needs to speak to his betters. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

“S-sure. Yeah Mr. Fournier.” Brad winced.

“I am a little sorry about your arm boy, but I think I made my point.” Fournier said slowly. He flashed another large smile at the boys before leaving them with a doctor.

It didn’t take long to set Brad’s arm, and they even gave him some pain pills. The medics, under Fournier’s orders, made the arrangements with Brad and Schuldig’s respective Nannies for them to spend the night in the medic building, and they were left virtually alone in a curtained off section of the ward.

<Let’s talk this way. I don’t like talking so that people can hear us in this place.> Schuldig said, after they’d been alone in silence some time. He wasn’t crying any more. He looked more like his normal self, even swinging his short legs from the edge of the bed.

<How old are you Schuldig?> Brad thought carefully. He’d never tried to communicate telepathically before. It wasn’t something precogs practiced at until they started organizing teams.

<I’m almost ten. Although I don’t know exactly when my birthday is anymore. How old are you?> Schuldig asked.

<Fifteen. I’ll be sixteen in March.>

<Oh. Brad, are you mad at me? Because I’d be mad at me.> Schuldig thought quietly.

<I’m not mad at you. But I think we need to be a lot more careful. I don’t want them to hurt you, and with the way you talk to people you’re giving them a reason to.>

<But they won’t hurt me. I’m valuable. They don’t have any other telepaths who are as powerful as me, because I’m already this good and I’m not very well trained yet. I’ve seen it in their minds. They want to use me.>

Brad sighed. <That’s true. But if they think you’re dangerous or more trouble than you’re worth, they will kill you. And they can hurt you without killing you. I’ve been working on a plan. I think I can get us out of here quicker than we’d thought, but you’re going to have to play their game. Do you think you can do that?>

Schuldig thought quietly. He looked at his swinging legs and chewed his lip.

Brad muttered. <And as awful as it is, if we want to live and get out of here, we’re going to have to keep doing things like that. But I think it can be worth it in the long run. I’ve been looking for some good futures Schuldig, and I think we can take out Rosenkreuz one day. We just need to play along for a little while.>