by R S Penney
Jack blushed, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Well,” he said, pushing backward on his swing. “It's good to know I left an impression.”
“Of course you did.”
He carefully swirled the spoon around his little mountain of froyo, making sure to pick up an even amount of both flavours. Then he popped it in his mouth. There were few things that blended as well together as chocolate and mint. It actually eased the pain a bit. Just a bit, but he could see why some people started eating cartons of ice cream whenever they went through a bad break-up.
“So what happened?”
Jack closed his eyes, turning his face up to the starry sky. “The one and only thing that could happen,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “She told me that she wants to have a family, and…Well, you understand.”
In his mind's eye, Anna was sitting with her legs stretched out, feet crossed at the ankle. “Yeah, I understand,” she said. “Just like I understand that Gabi has known that Keepers can't have children ever since she was a little girl, and yet she chose to pursue a relationship with you anyway.”
“Don't be mad at her.”
“I think we can be a little mad at her.”
Jack winced, shaking his head. “There's no point.” He pressed a palm to his brow, massaging the bridge of his nose with the heel of his hand. “It's a simple fact of nature, An: fire burns, wind blows and people leave.”
When he looked over his shoulder, Anna was watching him, her face bathed in the glow of nearby lights, her blue eyes so wide you could drown in them. “You don't really believe that, do you?”
“I think I do.”
“Jack…”
He chose that moment to shovel another spoonful of yogurt into his mouth. It gave him a brief pause, a chance to think. True, there was a little hyperbole in what he had just said – and he could feel Summer scolding him for that – but one thing he'd learned over the years was that most relationships were temporary. His life wasn't a difficult one, not really. But most of his friendships had lasted a few years. People drifted apart. It was just a fact of life.
Anna sat hunched over with the bowl in one hand, the spoon in the other, stirring her yogurt anxiously. “You're wrong,” she said with such ferocity he wouldn't dare argue. “I won't leave you. Ever.”
“Then you're a rare exception.”
“No.”
Jack stood and paced to the edge of the playground, pausing there to stare off into the distance. “There's no sense in getting upset about it, An,” he said. “Life just takes us in different directions.”
Spatial awareness allowed him to sense her sitting there with the yogurt in her lap, shaking her head in dismay. “One thing I'll never get used to,” she muttered. “Life here makes you cynical.”
“That's unfair.”
“Is it?”
He paused to contemplate the half-finished bowl of yogurt in his hand. Amusement bubbled up, soothing away his pain for a few brief seconds. Here he was, growling about how people would inevitably leave to a friend who not only made it her business to take care of him – a friend who had always been there for him even when they were separated by lightyears – but who also remembered an obscure fact about how he liked his frozen desserts. Perhaps his father was wrong. Maybe people didn't inevitably let you down. He could feel Summer agreeing with that.
Jack grinned, bowing his head to stare down at his feet. “Maybe not,” he said with a shrug. “But you're totally ruining my Kit Harrington in the middle of season one vibe. You get that, right?”
He turned.
Anna was sitting there with the bowl of frozen yogurt resting in her lap, gripping the chains of her swing with both hands. “Really?” she said. “So you've been cultivating this angsty persona, have you?”
“It's the culmination of ten years of hard work!” he exclaimed. “You know, when I was a teenager and my guidance counselor had me fill out one of those forms that lists your desired career path, I actually wrote 'brooding loner with the weight of the world on his shoulders.' ”
She giggled.
“Thank you,” he said. “I really needed that.”
“Any time.” Anna stood up with a sigh and slowly made her way over to him. “So why don't you come out with me and Bradley tomorrow night?” she added. “Sounds like you could use a distraction.”
“Thanks. I think I will.”
Exhaustion made Harry's legs ache as he moved through the front door of his small suburban house. The e-mail he'd just received from Jena informing him that he would be going with Jack tomorrow only made it worse. Well, a small voice whispered. You wanted to be part of the team…
The foyer of his home was lit by light that spilled out from the kitchen, and Harry could see his two daughters sitting at the table at the end of a narrow corridor lined with cupboards on both sides. Melissa, he realized, was becoming a young woman. Tall and slim, she wore a pair of denim shorts with a black t-shirt and kept her hair tied up in a bun. “Nope,” she said. “Guess again.”
Across from her, Claire sat with elbows on the table, staring intently at her sister. His youngest wore a pair of white shorts and a black t-shirt with a picture of Kylo Ren from Star Wars. “Are you a hockey player?”
“Yes.”
“Gordie Howe.”
Melissa crossed her arms, leaning over the table with a big smile. “I'm not Gordie Howe,” she said. “I've played for the New York Rangers and the Los Angeles Kings. I've won a few Stanley Cups.”
“Gordie Howe.”
Tossing her head back, Melissa rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “No, Claire,” she muttered, exasperation thickening her voice. “I'm a hockey player, but I'm definitely not Gordie Howe.”
“There are hockey players other than Gordie Howe?” Claire giggled with delight at her sister's frustration, scooching her chair closer to the table. “I don't know, Missy. You have to give me another clue.”
“I'm from Brantford, Ontario.”
“Gordie Howe.”
Melissa doubled over in her chair, covering her face with both hands. A low groan escaped her. In response, Claire giggled hysterically. It warmed Harry's heart to see them playfully bickering.
Melissa stood up with a sigh, bowing her head to smile down at herself. “Maybe you should go to bed,” she said, gesturing to the wall behind the kitchen table. Claire's room was on the other side.
Grumbling with obvious dissatisfaction, Claire hopped out of her chair and stood. She placed a hand over the top of her head and scratched at her dark hair. “Good night, Dad,” she said before running out of the kitchen.
Melissa turned to him and slowly made her way through the narrow space between cupboards with her head down. “I got a letter today,” she said, extending a hand that held her phone. “You might want to read it.”
Harry took the phone and slid his thumb across the screen to bring up the e-mail she wanted to show him. The words he found left him feeling…numb.
Ms. Carlson,
Your application to the Justice Keeper training program has been accepted. We find your academic scores to be nothing short of exemplary, and your essay detailing the importance of building strong diplomatic ties in a galaxy rife with conflict made three Senior Directors nod with approval.
The program consists of courses that will empower you with a basic knowledge of forensic analysis, self-defense and combat strategy along with field-work that will be carried out under the supervision of a senior Justice Keeper. You will have the opportunity to tailor your scheduled classes to best suit your individual needs, but field work will require you to work irregular hours. Please plan accordingly.
Following the conclusion of the year-long program, you will be allowed contact with a Nassai symbiont to determine your suitability for Blending. Should the symbiont reject you for any reason, other career opportunities within law enforcement will be made available to you. Courses begin the week of September 4th on Station Thirteen. We look forward
to seeing you then.
- Operative Teral Nisso, Justice Keeper Training Division
Harry froze with his daughter's phone held up in front of his face, staring blankly at the words on the screen. It was happening. It was really happening. They'd gone over this many times together, but now his little girl was about to take the first step that would lead to her becoming a Justice Keeper. All the danger…the loneliness. He still believed it was unfair to ask a kid to make a decision that would change their life in such a drastic way. Melissa didn't want children now, but in the future…
Still, Harry had accepted the fact that it was her choice, and if he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that part of his apprehension came from his own sense of irrelevance. Everyone he knew was becoming powerful in ways that would have seemed like science fiction just a few short years ago. He was surrounded by Justice Keepers and telepaths and now a thinking computer of all things. And he was just plain old-fashioned Harry Carlson. It wasn't his world, and he knew it. His world had ended the instant Anna Lenai set foot on this planet.
Biting his lip, Harry shut his eyes tight. He took a deep breath and then nodded to his daughter. “I'm proud of you,” he said. “Have you told your mother? Your sister? Are you planning to move onto the station?”
Melissa stood before him with her arms crossed, smiling down at herself. “I'm not sure yet,” she said, hunching up her shoulders in an awkward shrug. “Station Thirteen is synced to the central time zone, so…”
“Right.”
“But I'd like to stay here as much as possible.”
Harry felt his lips curl into a small smile, his cheeks burning with warmth that was hard to ignore. “You'll always be welcome here,” he said, passing the phone back to his daughter. “I have to go on a mission tomorrow morning, but when I get back, we should plan a celebration.”
“A mission?” The urgency in Melissa's voice was unmistakable. “Why would Jena send you on a mission?”
Out of the mouths of babes.
Harry turned to brace his hands on the counter, hanging his head in frustration. “I don't know if you heard,” he began, “but Glin Karon was killed this afternoon in London. One of Slade's men.”
“And Jena's sending you to deal with that?”
Harry winced, tossing his head about with a growl. “No,” he said, straightening. “I am going with Jack to look for the Key. Right now, Jen has the rest of her people running around trying to bring in the man who killed Glin.”
A glance over his shoulder revealed Melissa standing there with a tight frown on her face, sweat glistening on her forehead. “So you're all she has left,” the girl mumbled. “Dad, I don't like this. Jack and Anna at least have abilities that can help them cope with anything the Overseers might throw at them. Ben has those little gadgets of his…Or, well, he would if he wasn't in jail.”
“Worried about your old man?”
“Always?”
Closing his eyes, Harry took a moment to calm himself. He pressed a palm to his forehead and rubbed the skin above his nose. “I'll be fine, Melissa,” he said. “Chances are it's just going to be another wild goose chase.”
Melissa slammed into him, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a firm squeeze. “I sure hope so,” she whispered. “To be honest with you, I'm starting to hope that Slade is hunting for something that doesn't exist.”
“Me too.”
“But that's not how our luck works.”
Harry rested his chin atop his daughter's head, breathing deeply to steady his frayed nerves. “It never is,” he mumbled. “But you're worried about nothing. Tomorrow night, I will be right here planning a way to celebrate your wonderful news. You'll see.”
The second floor of this abandoned building in Sayville, New York, had once been home to a newspaper, or so Arin had been told. What a quaint notion: printing news on actual paper. How long had it been since his own people had made use of such primitive technology? Centuries? Being surrounded by these Earthers made his skin crawl. It was a good thing the Inzari would soon uplift them. No one should be forced to exist in such uncivilized conditions.
Arch-shaped windows in the brick wall were boarded up with wood to prevent the light from spilling out into the street; it wouldn't do for anyone to start wondering what was going on up here. Bright bulbs in the ceiling shone down on a scuffed tiled floor where men and women in tactical gear shuffled about, loading assault rifles with ammo, checking armoured vests, relaying orders to one another.
There was very little in the way of furniture. Only a few tables that were used to store gear. With over four dozen bodies all occupying this space, it was both cramped and much too warm, but these were the things one endured to serve one's god.
Arin was down on one knee with his head bowed, sucking in air through clenched teeth. “Karon is dead,” he said, looking up at his new master. “I anticipated a challenge. I was told he was among the most skilled Keepers.”
Grecken Slade stood over him with hands clasped behind his back, his chin thrust out to convey arrogance. The man wore gray pants and a black coat that dropped to mid-thigh, a coat with silver trim along the hem and the cuff of each sleeve. His dark hair was pulled into a simple ponytail. “Don't get cocky,” Slade admonished. “I personally have sparred with Glin, and I found him quite competent.”
Arin winced, turning his face away from the other man. “Perhaps,” he said with a rasp in his voice. “But I want a real challenge. Send me after Morane. I'm told she has a reputation as a skilled warrior.”
Slade was smiling down at him, dark eyes twinkling in the harsh light. “Six months of training,” he said, arching one thin eyebrow. “And you already believe yourself able to best a Keeper who has carried a symbiont for nearly twenty years?”
“I…”
“Over confidence is unbecoming, Arin.” The other man crossed his arms and drew himself up to full height, standing tall and poised like a statue. “When the time is right, I will employ your skills where they can do the most good.”
Clenching his teeth, Arin lowered his eyes to the floor. He drew in a sharp, hissing breath. “Yes, Lord Slade,” he said with a nod. “But if I may ask, what good will it do to antagonize the Keepers?”
Slade turned so that Arin saw him in profile, then paced a line to the wall with the boarded-up windows. He braced his hands against one dirty windowsill and stood there, hunched over. “It will leave them off balance,” he replied. “The more energy they waste trying to contain us, the easier it will be to locate the Key.”
Arin said nothing of the fact that – so far – no one had the faintest idea where the Key had been hidden. The Inzari who had betrayed their kind and masked the technology so that it couldn't be detected with scanners had done a remarkable job. Arin heard the odd whisper every now and then; one of the soldiers in their little band would insist that there was no Key, that Slade was leading them astray. Arin took great pleasure in making sure that such insubordination was properly punished.
A troubling thought occurred to him.
Were those his sentiments or those of the Drethen he carried? Anger had been such an easily-accessible emotion since the day of his anointing. It was different for everyone; Isara's rage could sometimes be a wildfire blazing out of control. For Arin, it was a cold fury: calm, calculating and utterly vicious. Had he always been that way? The process that had allowed him to craft a Bending without the Drethen's consent also made for a deeper blending of thought and emotion than a Justice Keeper would experience with his Nassai. A Keepers and a Nassai were two distinct beings, but the symbiont he carried and the rage it felt were a part of him.
Through contact with the Drethen, he sensed half a dozen men coming up behind him, each carrying an assault rifle. They were dressed in tactical gear, each sporting a thick bulbous helmet with the visor pulled down. Should he kill them? If they thought to sneak up on him like that…No. Best to wait. “What now, sir?” one asked.
Slade rem
ained at the window with his back turned, bent over as though he could see through the wood to the night beyond. “It's time,” he said after a moment. “Contact your agents in the city. Tell them to execute phase two.”
Chapter 5
A vaulted ceiling of skylights stretched over the concourse of the Liverpool Street tube station, allowing the sun to cast golden rays down on white floor tiles with lines of gray that formed boxes. Stores in either wall of the massive two-story station were open, offering fast food or candy or pharmaceutical to the people that milled about. And there were people. Several hundred, by Anna's estimate. This place was just as busy as Station Twelve on a particularly hectic day.
Anna walked along in a pair of beige pants and a dark blue t-shirt with a diamond pattern on the neckline. Her red hair was tied up in a nubby ponytail. “I need you to send the security camera footage to Station Twelve,” she said. “I'd like our people to go over it with facial recognition software.”
She spun on her heel.
A portly man in a gray suit with a skinny black tie stood before her. His pale face was flushed, and his curly, black hair showed more than a few flecks of gray. “I've had my best people going over it for the last twenty-four hours.”
Anna closed her eyes, bowing her head to the man. “I'm aware of that,” she said, nodding once for emphasis. “But just the same, I want my team to have a look at it. Two sets of eyes and all that.”
The inspector smiled a friendly smile, his flush deepening. “Very well,” he replied, gesturing to the stairs that led up to the second level. “So far, we've detected no sign of the man who killed Glin Karon. If he moved through here, he did so discreetly.”
Anna crossed her arms with a heavy sigh, a shiver running through her. She turned her back on the man. “It's not very likely,” she said. “He knows that using public transit would make him easier to track.”
“You think he took a cab?”
“I think that he had an escape plan in place beforehand,” she answered. “My first instinct would be to check all SlipGate terminals in the city, but we've seen that Slade's people have access to portable SlipGates.”
