by R S Penney
“Meow?”
An idea occurred to her, and in typical Lenai fashion, she was acting on it before she even really thought about the implications. Turning around, she scooped up the kitty in her arms and carried him to the bedroom. “Come on,” she said. “You're not the only one who could use some company tonight.”
She changed into a pair of Jack's shorts and one of his old t-shirts – Anna was sure he wouldn't mind – and snuggled under the covers with Spock. The cat was quite happy to be her little spoon; he was purring in no time.
Finally, as she was lying down, her mind focused on the emotional subtext of her decision. She had grown quite comfortable at making herself at home in Jack's apartment. That should have scared her – she was normally a proponent of taking things slow – but it felt right. She felt at home here.
The only thing that worried her was the possibility that Jack might feel like they were moving too fast. I guess I'll have to talk it over with him. A few blissful weeks of kisses, cuddles and waking up in each other's arms had been nothing short of delightful, but relationships inevitably required those periodic conversations where you checked in to make sure you were on the same page.
It made her a little nervous.
After all this time, she had finally connected with Jack the way she really wanted. She didn't want to rock the boat so soon.
Chapter 2
Harry sat with his elbow on the kitchen table, his cheek leaned against the palm of his hand as he stared out the patio door. His backyard was too dark for him to make out anything specific – it was just a big, old rectangle of blackness on the other side of his screen door – but the sound of rainfall was soothing.
As the last days of summer faded away, the nights turned cooler. He often left the door open for a little fresh air. Being cooped up in this house for months on end had left him with a craving for it. His chest still hurt sometimes if he pushed himself too hard, but he was mostly healed up. The wonders of Leyrian medicine had accelerated the process quite a bit.
The sound of the front door opening was accompanied by the soft click-click of Melissa's heeled shoes on the floor. A few moments passed while she removed them – Harry could just barely catch the sound of her humming – and then she stepped into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey…
“Something on your mind?”
His eyes drifted to the plastic box that was sealed up tight on his kitchen table. Yes, there was definitely something on his mind. “I had an interesting chat with one of Claire's teachers today,” he said. “It seems she's not doing so well.”
Melissa sat down across from him with her back to the patio door, huddling up on herself and gazing into her own lap. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked in a quiet voice. “If she needs some tutoring, I might-”
“It's not that.”
“Then what…”
Shutting his eyes, Harry rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He forced out a slow breath. “It's me,” he whispered. “Claire is worried about what might happen if I get hurt helping you and the others.”
“Well…” Melissa said, “I'd be lying if I told you that I don't share her concerns. You nearly died a few months ago, Dad. You've got no business throwing yourself into these dangerous situations just to prove you can.”
His face was on fire, but he nodded his agreement just the same. “I know,” Harry said. “Which is why I'm going to have to take a step back from my work with the rest of the team.”
Melissa sat bolt upright, her eyes fluttering as she studied him. “I think that might be an over-correction,” she said. “Just because I don't want you getting into a firefight with battle drones doesn't mean you have nothing to contribute.”
Harry leaned back with his arms folded, frowning and shaking his head. “It's kind of an all or nothing deal, Melissa,” he said. “When Jena recruited me, I was supposed to be a liaison, remember? It was supposed to be a nice, safe job…And then I was altered by an Overseer device.”
“It didn't seem to have any lasting effects.”
“Oh no?” Harry countered. The words died on his tongue before he could force them through his lips. There were certain things – certain failings – that you didn't want your children to know about. But Melissa had a right to hear the truth. When you screw up, you have to own it. His father's words still echoed in his head from time to time.
Harry stood up and paced a slow circuit around the table. “Didn't you wonder what I was doing there?” he asked. “Why I just happened to be in the right place to take down Cara Sinthel while she was trying to escape?”
“I assumed you were in the building on business.”
Harry paused at the screen door, clasping hands in front of himself. A frown tugged at his mouth as he peered into the darkness. “I went there to interrogate Isara,” he said. “I did it without authorization.”
“Okay…So…”
“Open the box, Melissa.”
He didn't need to look to know that she had done as instructed. Even without the quiet snap of the seals unlocking, he could feel the contents of the box the moment they were exposed to open air.
He turned around to find the lid open. The box contained a thin piece of veiny flesh held in place by metal clamps. No doubt his daughter was suppressing the urge to take the device and claim it as her own. Harry, on the other hand, felt no such inclination. Ever since the day when the Overseers had changed him, he had been immune to the effects of their technology.
“The N'Jal…” Melissa said.
“Four months ago,” Harry replied, “I used that thing to torture Isara, to make her tell me all of her secrets. And I got absolutely nothing out of her; she was able to resist until her friends came to rescue her.
“When I realized the implications of what I had done,” Harry said, “I tried to give the N'Jal to Larani for safekeeping; she wouldn't take it.” His resolve hardened, and he set his jaw as he stepped forward to loom over his daughter. “This time, I'm not giving her a choice.”
Melissa looked up at him.
Harry stiffened, a grimace twisting his face. “You're gonna give that thing to Larani Tal,” he said. “I never want to see it again.”
Harry turned away from her, his shoulders slumping as he paced a line across the room. Somewhere, deep inside, he felt regret. The N'Jal made him special; he didn't want to give it up. But it was time to own his mistakes. “From the moment that thing came into my life,” he went on. “I've done nothing but misuse it. Larani believes that I'm under the N'Jal's influence, but I know better. This is just plain, old-fashioned 'power corrupts,' and I'm done with it.”
“It's not that simple, Dad.”
“I'm making it that simple.”
Hair stood on the back of his neck when he felt Melissa coming up behind him. She strode past him and spun around to stand before him with her arms crossed. “It's not that simple,” she insisted. “Slade has access to Overseer technology. The only person on our side who can control Overseer technology is you. You give up the N'Jal, and Slade gets a distinct advantage.”
“If I keep it,” Harry said. “I become a monster. I think you know which one scares me more.”
Melissa said nothing.
Thirty seconds passed in silence, and then Harry finally found the nerve to say what he needed to say. “My part in this story is over.” Speaking those words left him feeling a little shaken. “Take that thing back to Larani. I never want to see it again.”
Melissa stepped into a classroom where six black-topped lab tables – three on each side of the room – took up most of the space. Her teacher was an older man in a white lab coat, a handsome fellow with a sun-darkened face and a ring of gray hair around the back of his head.
Professor Stayloth waited patiently behind his desk, not speaking but nodding to each student who came through the door. Melissa was grateful to have had him as her forensics teacher. The man was tough, but he knew the material backwards and forwards
. She actually felt like she might have something useful to say the next time Anna took her to examine a crime scene.
With five minutes to spare before the start of the lecture, most of the other students were huddled up and talking quietly. Some were just university students who had taken forensics as an elective; others were training to be Keepers or for other careers in law-enforcement.
She spotted Aiden at one of the back-most tables, holding a tablet up in front of his face and scanning its contents. The guy looked seriously stressed, and she couldn't blame him. Their mid-term was coming up soon.
In a red dress with wide shoulder straps and a skirt that fell to just above the knee, Melissa took three steps forward and gracefully sat down beside Aiden. “Good morning,” she said. “You look very tired.”
A playful grin stretched across his face, but he never took his eyes off the tablet. “I have been up all night studying,” he said. “Not all of us are guaranteed a spot among the Keepers no matter what we do.”
Melissa felt her mouth twist, then shook her head with a sigh. “You know it's not that easy,” she said. “I may have a symbiont for life, but I can screw this up.”
“Yes, but you have your symbiont.”
“And soon, you will too.”
He swiveled his chair to face her, and his grin broadened to the point where it was downright infectious. “Sooner than you think,” he replied. “I just got the notice last night. I'm supposed to attempt a Bonding in two weeks.”
“That's amazing!”
A blush painted Aiden's cheeks red, and he looked down, suddenly fascinated by something in his lap. “I was hoping…that maybe…maybe you would come with me,” he said. “For moral support.”
Turning to him with hands clasped in her lap, Melissa smiled and nodded once. “I would love to,” she replied. “I'm not sure if this is obvious – and maybe now is the worst possible time, but…I like you.”
There.
It was out.
Just speaking those words made her feel as if a weight had been lifted. Anna was right; she should have done this a long time ago. Of course, the momentary relief was followed by anxiety about how he might answer.
“I like you too,” Aiden said.
Well, that was a relief. Melissa felt an overwhelming sense of tenderness. Would it be wrong to kiss him right here in class? Yes. Yes, it would. Totally unprofessional. But the instant she had a moment alone with him…
“Excuse me,” Professor Stayloth broke in over the sound of hushed voices. “May I have your attention?”
Melissa turned around to find him standing in front of his desk with his hands in his lab-coat pockets. The man wore a frown as he surveyed his crop of students. “Let's begin. We have a big test to prepare for.”
Retrieving her tablet – a thin sheet of SmartGlass – from her purse, Melissa swiped a finger across it and brought up the home screen. The device instantly synced with the school's network, and copies of today's notes appeared in a word processing document with spaces for her to add her own annotations.
“The mid-term will be all theory,” Professor Stayloth went on. “Most of you have done exceedingly well in your lab assignments. We'll be covering chapters six through ten; so make sure you brush up.”
Melissa wasn't worried. Forensics was actually one of her better subjects. She had done pretty well on the last mid-term. But it was clear to her that Aiden was worried, and not just about the upcoming test. She supposed she couldn't blame him. A year ago, when she first applied to the Keeper training program, she had spent a lot of time fretting about what would happen if a symbiont didn't choose her.
She had been spared that anxiety by Jena's sudden decision to pass Ilia to her. But Aiden must be a wreck inside. Well, she would do what she could to be there for him, but this one fear he would just have to conquer on his own.
To Rajel's mind, this hallway on the sixth floor of the Keeper building was a long tunnel with walls of mist where each surface seemed to vibrate at a slightly different rate. He often wondered if other Justice Keepers were so keenly aware of what they perceived through contact with their Nassai. He suspected it was a function of density. The denser the object, the faster it vibrated, the more solid it seemed.
His mind picked up other things as well. He could tell that the lights were on by the slight warmth on his skin, could smell just a hint of cleanser left behind by the cleaning bots when they patrolled this hallway last night.
Rajel stood in the middle of the corridor in gray jeans and a black jacket, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Each of his garments was labeled with a tag in mi'ka, Leyria's tactile language, which made it easier to coordinate colour.
A misty figure came around the corner and strode toward him, quickly resolving into a shape he knew well: a short, petite woman with her hair up in a nubby ponytail. “Rajel,” Anna said. “What's up?”
He smiled and bowed his head to her. “Still getting used to this place,” he said. “I was reading over some of your mission reports now that I'm officially a part of the team. Are you seriously telling me that Keli spent most of her life in a prison cell?”
“I'm afraid so.”
“And your friend, Mr. Carlson…”
Anna spun on her heel and pulled open the door to her office, urging him to follow with a quick bob of her head. “Harry,” she said. “And what about him?”
He stepped through the door and watched Anna's silhouette stride across the room and lean over the desk. She was tapping something into the SmartGlass. Sometimes, he wondered what it might be like to interface with technology as others did.
With his mouth agape, Rajel shook his head. “I read the report,” he said, coming up behind her. “You mean to tell me that your friend Harry merged with a piece of Overseer technology and somehow, he can control it?”
Anna turned to lean against her desk with her arms folded, nodding slowly in response. “Yeah, that's pretty much it,” she said. “I wasn't there, but he interfaced with a device that contained one of the ciphers, and it modified him somehow.”
“You people live complicated lives.”
She laughed.
“I've been trying to brainstorm methods for tracking down this Isara woman…the one who looks like Director Morane. From your reports, I can see that you already tried most of what I came up with, and the rest is probably unfeasible anyway. I'm sorry; I'm really glad to be part of this task force but-”
“Rajel-”
“Hmm?”
Anna hopped onto her desk, clasping her hands in her lap and smiling at him. “You don't have to prove anything,” she said. “In fact, you have more experience than I do, and it would be invaluable.”
His face was warm, his brow prickling with sweat. Wasn't that always the way? The very instant he suspected that someone questioned his competence, he would spit bullets to disabuse them of any doubts, but ask him to take a compliment…“Well,” he said. “I'll help in any way that I can.”
“If you really want this team to gel,” Anna said. “Take a little time. Get to know us as people. Maybe let us get to know you.”
Rajel turned away from her, slipping his hands into his back pockets and shuffling over to the wall. “What would you like to know?” he asked. “Most of it is already there in my file.”
“I've read about your personal history,” Anna said. “But what makes an Antauran kid decide he wants to be a Justice Keeper?”
“I was born blind,” Rajel answered. “You knew that already. And you know how my people value genetic supremacy over anything else. When they brought us to Antaur, the Overseers told us that we were the best of humanity, that we had been separated from the rest to remain pure.”
Rajel whirled around to face her, standing straight-backed with arms pinned to his sides. “Nobody starves on Antaur,” he went on. “With our level of technology, there's no justification for it, but that doesn't mean there are no second-class citizens.
“Maybe you're not quite as
bright as the other kids, not quite as athletic or maybe you have an obvious disability like me…You can rest assured that you'll have a roof over your head and food to eat, but that's all you'll get. Your career prospects will be limited. People will see you as an object of pity.”
Anna sat forward with an elbow on her knee, her mouth hidden behind two fingers. “Yeah, I've heard as much,” she murmured. “It must have been awful.”
“I survived.”
“What happened?”
He offered a casual shrug of his shoulders and then paced a line in front of Anna's desk. “I got tired of feeling like I had no prospects,” he said, glancing in her direction. It was important to make eye-contact if you wanted to blend in. Sometimes he forgot about that, but he tried. “So when I turned seventeen, I went to the Leyrian consulate in Vajar, and I applied for refugee status. It was a long-shot, but I didn't have many options.”
“Right.”
“But they went for it.”
Anna's satisfied smile put him at ease. “Well, I'm glad they did,” she said. “But it's sad you had to go to such lengths.”
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “My parents were livid; they didn't want me flying off to live with those crazy Leyrians. They really believed that your people would shove me into some dank little apartment, drop off a food allotment every week and forget all about me. But I wanted to go.
“All my life, I've heard about Justice Keepers, people with incredible abilities. On my world, they were feared. I remember hearing news reports as a kid, 'What would the government do if Justice Keepers decided to raid one of our military facilities?' 'Could that random guy in your neighbourhood be a Justice Keeper spy?' Everybody fixated on the way Keepers deflect bullets, stuff like that.
“But the thing that got my attention was learning that almost anyone could apply to be a Keeper, even disabled people. My planet saw this as yet another example of Leyrian insanity. They'll let anyone join their most elite branch of law enforcement? I saw it as an opportunity. I spent a year doing aptitude assessments – when you're disabled, Antauran schools don't exactly go to great lengths to make sure you get a quality education – and when I applied to the Keeper training program, they made an exception for me. They let me attempt a Bonding right away instead of making me attend a year of classes. A Nassai accepted me as its host, and here I am.”
