by R S Penney
Novol shoved the spoon into his mouth, closed his eyes and swallowed the slop. “I am just stating the obvious,” he insisted. “The Justice Keeper could have killed us, but he showed us mercy instead.”
“Will you give over on that?”
The admonishment came from Edan, who was leaning against a wall behind Novol and shoving a magazine into the grip of his pistol. Repeatedly. The man had been ejecting the cartridge and sliding it back into place from the moment Novol walked in here over twenty minutes ago.
“Besides,” Taen put in. “He beat the crap out of you. I don't see why you're so eager to sympathize with him.”
Novol grimaced at a flare of pain in his nose. “He beat the crap out of us because we barged into his cell and attacked him.” Why the others couldn't see that obvious fact eluded him. “What would you do if you were held captive against your will?”
“Anything I had to do to escape,” Edan replied.
Novol twisted in his seat, looking over his shoulder with a hard-mouthed frown. “Exactly,” he said, dark eyebrows rising. “So, why does it surprise you when the Justice Keeper does the same?”
Once again, Edan ejected the magazine and slid it back into place. “It doesn't,” he replied. “That's why I'm not willing to go anywhere near that man unless ordered to do so. And that's why I'll put him down in a second if I have to.”
“It's not right,” Novol muttered.
“Oh, not this again!” Taen kicked his chair away and rounded on Novol, closing the distance between them in three quick strides. He slammed both hands down on the table and leaned forward. “This pointless moralizing is only gonna get you killed. Your job is to point and shoot, not to ask questions.”
Gazing up at the other man, Novol narrowed his eyes. “A good soldier assesses the situation before taking action,” he insisted. “We opened fire on a man simply for being in the system when our ship arrived. He tried to run; we wouldn't let him. We destroyed his shuttle, threw him in a holding cell and then attacked him. You're telling me you don't see anything wrong with that?”
“He's the enemy.”
Novol was on his feet in an instant, facing the other man with flushed cheeks and bared teeth. “Why does he have to be the enemy?” he demanded. “We're not at war with the Leyrians! But that will change if we encroach on their territory, destroy their shuttles and imprison their people!”
Taen actually stepped back from the intensity of Novol's snarl. The man paled for a moment and then recovered his composure. “Don't let the senior staff hear you say that,” he cautioned. “It's not your place to question military policy.”
“The Justice Keeper was spying on us,” Edan said.
“You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
With a quick roll of his eyes, Taen jerked his head toward the door. “Let's go, Edan. This conversation has lost my interest.” He muttered under his breath as he stormed out of the room. Edan followed him, leaving Novol alone to finish his breakfast.
When the doors slid apart, Anna stepped onto the bridge to find the massive Class-2 SlipGate on the main display screen. A metal diamond large enough to surround a city, it floated ominously with blue light from the nearby star glinting off its surface.
Crossing her arms, Anna stepped forward, then frowned and nodded. “There it is,” she said. “You ever wonder just how much the Overseers know about us? How much did they learn when we integrated SlipGates into our systems?”
Captain Desarin swiveled his chair around to face her and met her with a glower of disapproval. “You have a talent for grim speculation, Operative Lenai,” he said. “We just started running Ven's interface.”
The bridge crew was hard at work, each officer focused intently on their station, checking sensor data, monitoring telemetry and…Well, to be honest, Anna really had no clue what they were doing. The helmsman, for instance. Did he just sit there, waiting for orders to set course?
Even as a child, she had never been interested in joining the Space Corps. She had never studied starship specs or familiarized herself with the duties of a bridge officer, but she assumed it couldn't be all that different from what you did in a shuttle on a long-range mission. And that involved a lot of sitting still. Too much sitting still for her taste. “Have we found anything useful?”
“The Gate's sensor data is still coming in,” Desarin answered. “And Ven was kind enough to help us translate it into a format that will be compatible with our systems. My crew is sorting it now.”
A young woman at a station along the back wall twisted around to look over her shoulder. “Captain,” she said. “I think I've been able to locate the records from five days ago. I can't be entirely sure because the Overseers method of timekeeping is odd.”
“Let's see it, Lieutenant.”
The image on the screen changed, the SuperGate vanishing to be replaced by a top-down view of the solar system. A blue dot in the middle indicated the star and six planets orbited in concentric circles. A yellow x near the star marked the position of the Gate. It looked close, but in reality, the Gate was over twenty million kilometres away.
Moments later, a white dot appeared near the orbital path of the first planet. Jack's shuttle. “Based on the Gate's readings,” the lieutenant began. “Agent Hunter spent nearly two days in that position. The system remained quiet during that time. Then-”
A larger white dot appeared on the screen, almost right on top of the yellow x. “A ship came through from a Gate in Ragnosian Space.”
The image was replaced by a map of the galaxy with a thick red line connecting the Oniara System in the lower left quadrant to an unknown star in the upper right. The line flashed a few times, each blink accompanied by a trill from the computer.
Captain Desarin sat forward with an elbow on his thigh, clasping his chin in one hand. He seemed to be transfixed by the image. “At least, now, we know it was them,” he muttered. “Do we have any good news?”
“As a matter of fact, sir, we do. It turns out the Gate's systems include several high-res telescopes that were focused on Agent Hunter's location three minutes after his battle with the Ragnosians. Here's what they recorded.”
The screen displayed the same battle cruiser that Anna had seen in the logs from Jack's shuttle – a long, flat vessel shaped very much like the blade of a sword. However, when the camera zoomed in, she saw something that made her heart leap. A shuttle with a broken wing positioned directly underneath the larger ship. It floated slowly upward, as if pulled by a tractor beam, then disappeared through a hangar bay door.
Closing her eyes, Anna felt a single tear on her cheek, a lone droplet that slid all the way down to her chin before falling. “He's alive,” she whispered. “The Companion bless me, he's really alive!”
“I certainly hope so,” Captain Desarin said. “There is a small chance that they only wanted to salvage his shuttle.”
Anna glared at him.
The captain went red and glanced into his own lap. A second later, he recovered his composure. “Lieutenant,” he said, swiveling around, turning his back on the screen. “Do we know where that ship went?”
The young woman met his eyes, pursed her lips and then nodded curtly. “Yes, sir. We do.” She turned back to her station and checked the readout. “The Gate's senors have them leaving the system on a vector of 162 degrees port, 21 degrees downward, relative to our current position. They remain on that course for three hours before passing out of the Gate's sensor range.”
With two fingers on her lips, Anna narrowed her eyes. “So, what do we know about this region of space?” she asked. “Are there any star systems along that vector?”
“There are two within one hundred lightyears: Mirab and Desiala.”
“Show me.”
Complying with her request, the lieutenant put a cross-section of this region on the main screen. The battle cruiser's flight path was represented by a red line that curved ever so slightly as it followed a course parallel to t
he border of Leyrian Space.
Anna paced around the bridge with a hand over her mouth, pausing just in front of the screen. “Desiala's a bit further coreward than most people go,” she murmured. “But Mirab…Place a few comm relays along the border, and Mirab would provide you with an excellent vantage point to monitor ship movements through the heart of our territory.”
“Then we have our destination,” Desarin said, getting out of his chair. “Contact the Adanius and the Vasane, and tell them to follow us. Set your course -162 degrees by -21 degrees. We're going to the Mirab system.”
The sun was just past its zenith as it shone down on Denabria. Its light glinted off the windows of small buildings that lined either side of this radial street and filled the air with a pleasant warmth you could only find in late spring or early fall.
Trees on either sidewalk sighed as a light breeze fluttered through green leaves that were only starting to show spots of yellow at the edges. The people who strolled up each sidewalk at a leisurely pace, pausing briefly to glance through the store-front windows of bakeries and tailor shops, still wore summer clothes. The women had light jackets over their dresses; the men wore sweaters that they left unzipped. True, there were signs that the pleasant weather was coming to an end, but today was a lovely day.
None of that did a damn thing to soothe Harry's nerves. He had been on edge ever since he caught a breaking news report of Isara attacking Justice Keeper HQ a few hours ago. He knew that Melissa had gone in to report on fieldwork she had completed, and…
Damn it all to Hell! He could accept the fact that his daughter had chosen to pursue a dangerous career, but he didn't have to like it. And no amount of rationalization would make him stop worrying when he knew that she was in a dangerous situation. Fortunately, he had been able to call her.
Melissa was fine.
For some reason, that didn't soothe him.
Harry sat on a bench in jeans and a windbreaker, folded up with his elbows on his knees and his forehead pressed against laced fingers. “She's fine,” he whispered for the dozenth time. “Stop worrying.”
His multi-tool chirped.
When Harry slid three fingers across the screen, it switched to a close-up shot of Sora's face. “I just saw the news,” she began without preamble. “Harry, are you all right? Is there anything I can do?”
Drawing breath in through his nose, Harry shut his eyes. “I'm okay.” Damn it…His voice was so hoarse. “I got off the phone…off the multi-tool…Whatever! I called Melissa a few hours ago. She's fine.”
The relief in Sora's eyes as she nodded curtly in response to that was obvious. “At least we have that much,” she said. “But you look like you could use a friend. Where are you right now?”
“Applewood Avenue.” It only took a few taps to make his multi-tool's GPS send her the coordinates. “I'm supposed to meet with my daughter, but I suspect she'll want to get back to work as soon as possible. If you want to meet me after that…”
“I can be there in ten minutes.”
She ended the call.
Harry's conscience warned him that relying on Sora for emotional support would be a bad idea – she had made it clear that nothing romantic would happen between the two of them – but he didn't care. His nerves were frayed.
What little experience he had with Isara suggested that she was the kind of woman who held a grudge, and Melissa had publicly humiliated her a few months ago. In a way, Isara was just like her daughter. Attacking an enemy stronghold in broad daylight, with a high probability of being overwhelmed by superior forces, was exactly the kind of daring, spit-in-your-face moxie that Jena had often displayed.
That left him cold. Jena was quite possibly the most capable person that Harry had ever met, and now, her evil twin was hunting Melissa.
So, yeah…Harry needed a friend right now. And if that friend just happened to be Claire's teacher, he wasn't going to complain.
“Dad?”
He looked up to find Melissa standing in the middle of the sidewalk in green skinny jeans and a denim jacket over her white tank top. Her hair was up in a bun, but there were a few flyaway strands. Harry's mind registered all of that and filed it away as potentially useful information. It was Melissa's expression that stood out.
His daughter had the dull, fatigued stare of someone who had been under way too much stress. “Sorry I couldn't come sooner,” she mumbled. “They wanted to question me about Isara's visit to HQ.”
Harry got to his feet.
With a few cautious steps forward, he spread his arms wide and wrapped Melissa up in a tight hug. She returned the embrace and sighed as she rested her chin on Harry's shoulder. “I'm sorry.”
“It's okay,” Harry whispered. “I'm glad you're all right.”
“Yeah…I'm okay.”
Harry stepped back, then gestured to his right, toward the patio of a street-side cafe where square, plastic tables sat in the warm sunlight. When Melissa nodded, he chose one of those tables and sat down.
Melissa sat down across from him, her mouth a thin line as she scrutinized him. “I can tell you're still worried,” she began. “It's okay, Dad. Aside from a bruise to my pride, I'm just fine.”
Harry forced his eyes shut, shivering when he considered what Isara might have done to wound his daughter's pride. “She came after you, didn't she?” An uncomfortable silence confirmed his suspicions. “Damn it, Melissa! I know this is your-”
“I went after her.”
Harry blinked.
Melissa leaned forward with her hands folded on the tabletop, staring into his eyes. She nodded slowly. “I heard the intruder alert,” she said. “I went to the lobby and fought with Isara.”
“Why would you do that?”
A blush put some colour in Melissa's cheeks. “Because I thought I could beat her,” she said with a shrug. “I don't know, Dad…I guess I was feeling cocky after the last time. But I'm fine. She knocked me into a wall. That's it.”
“Right…Okay. Is there anything I can do to help?” Asking that question was simple paternal instinct, but he regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He had made a choice to stop working with the Justice Keepers, and he intended to stick to that.
“Actually, I'm glad you asked,” Melissa said, fishing in her purse for something. She set a small metal case down on the table with a thunk.
Harry recoiled, his eyes widening at the sight of it. “Is that what I think it is?” His question was a desperate whisper. Damn it, how could Melissa do this to him? Even now, after all his effort to give up the N'Jal, a part of him yearned to take that case and claim what he found inside.
Melissa confirmed his fears by opening it to reveal a thin sheet of veiny flesh held in place with metal clamps. The N'Jal called to him. It sang in his mind. It whispered the promise of power, of strength.
“No!” Harry spat.
“Dad, we need you.”
“No!”
“But-”
Clenching his teeth, Harry looked down into his lap. “You have no idea what that thing did to me,” he grated. “Even with my ability to control it, I put that thing on, and I feel invincible.”
Harry stood, towering over his daughter, glaring at her with all the disapproval he could muster. “You saw what happened the last time,” he went on. “You have no right to ask this of me.”
“So, you learn to exercise a little restraint,” Melissa countered. “Dad, so far as we know, you are the only person who has ever been able to control Overseer tech. You think I want you putting your life in danger? You think it didn't rip me to pieces when I found out you had been shot? I know the risks…but this is an advantage we can't afford to give up. I'm sorry.”
“Now, you listen to-”
Harry cut off at the sound of footsteps behind him, and when he turned, Sora was standing there in gray pants and a sleeveless blue blouse, her long brown hair fluttering in the wind. “Am I interrupting?”
Harry forced his eyes shut, t
hen bowed his head. “No,” he answered in a voice like crumbling rocks. “I was just having a talk with my daughter.”
Melissa's chair scraped across the concrete as she stood up and made her way around the table. “A pleasure to meet you,” she said, offering her hand. “I take it you're a friend of my father's.”
Sora looked uneasy, glancing briefly toward Harry for some indication of how to proceed. “I'm one of your sister's teachers,” she replied hesitantly. “I have been speaking with your father about the dangers of involving himself with the Justice Keepers and the strain it puts on Claire's mental health.”
“I see…”
To Harry's disappointment, Sora noticed the N'Jal – how could she not? Exposed to open air like that, it was probably whispering in the thoughts of everyone within fifty feet – and her mouth twisted in distaste. “Perhaps I've come at a bad time.”
Harry spread his hands and took a step back. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It's fine, Sora. My daughter believes that my unique ability to control Overseer technology is a resource they can't afford to waste.”
“Even if it puts your life at risk?”
“His life is already at risk,” Melissa broke in before Harry could say anything. “My family is a target for Grecken Slade and his minions, and those people are going to come whether we resist them or not.”
The N'Jal was singing in the back of Harry's mind, distracting him, making it hard to think. Huffing in exasperation, he strode to the table and slammed the case shut. “You had no right to bring that here,” he told Melissa. “And to open it up like that? You know how it calls to people.”
“I wouldn't have let anybody get near it,” Melissa assured him. “I was hoping that you would join me in the search for Isara.”
“Oh, I wouldn't worry about that.”
Harry froze at the sound of a silky-smooth voice that he knew all too well. It was a voice that turned his bones to jelly and left a lump of ice in the pit of his stomach. No…he thought. She wouldn't come here.
He looked up to find that a blue city bus had parked along the curb, and perched on top of it was a woman in white who wore a hood to hide her face. “You don't need to find Isara,” she said. “Isara has found you.”
