Symbiosis

by R S Penney

  A moment later, they were moving, and she twisted around to slam the door shut with all her might. Aches and pains that she hadn't even noticed were suddenly blazing beacons in her mind; the adrenaline was fading.

  Through the driver's-side window, she saw cars whooshing past on their left. One man slowed just long enough to proudly display his middle finger. An obscene gesture on this planet? Jack must have cut him off as he pulled into traffic. Still, the plan had worked and they were safely on their way to-

  Sirens blared in the open air. Anna had heard that sound once before, on the night when she had made her first escape from this building. That meant the local authorities were on their way to investigate the disturbance.

  Anna buried her face in her hands. She let out a groan, then looked up to blink at the back of the passenger seat. “This can't be happening,” she said, shaking her head. “I will not lose the symbiont now!”

  “Stay calm,” Jack told her, keeping his eyes on the road. “See what they do.”

  Glancing through the back window, she saw several cruisers rounding the corner of a street in the distance. She watched them maneuver through traffic, then come to a stop in front of the Penworth building. They weren't chasing?

  They weren't chasing!

  Of course, they weren't chasing. The guards had been half a dozen floors above her, so they hadn't witnessed her escape through the window. Anyone on the ground who saw that little display would not have had the chance to inform the police yet. And that meant they had a few minutes to get away. “They aren't following us.”

  “Good,” Jack said, nodding. “So, we're just going to go with the flow of traffic, not make any aggressive movements. With luck, we can put some distance between them and us before they start following.”

  “Maybe we're in the clear.”

  Jack shook his head. “Maybe,” he said, “but maybe not. If anyone on the sidewalk got our plate number…”

  She sighed.

  “Hang on, An,” Jack told her. “We're not out of the woods yet.”

  Dabbing his face with a paper towel, Vincent closed his eyes. He tried to keep his breathing steady. “You have to act professional,” he muttered. “You did everything you could.”

  The men's room on the thirtieth floor was a bit classier than many of the others he'd seen in this building. Glossy black tiles upon the walls seemed to reflect the light, and the sinks were built into granite counters.

  He checked his reflection in the mirror.

  His pudgy face was flushed and glistening, and his dark eyes looked ready to start tearing up. Sweat slicked his black hair until it very nearly shimmered. How could that bloody woman be so fast?

  Vincent winced, then hung his head. He wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Mr. Pennfield will be angry,” he noted. “You just have to approach him with your head held high.”

  He turned and left the room.

  A long hallway stretched on to a set of glass doors at the very end. Even from here, Vincent could make out the white letters painted across the pane. Wesley Pennfield: CEO and President.

  He swallowed.

  Walking the eighty feet from the men's room door to Pennfield's office seemed to take forever. He felt very much like a dead man marching through that long black tunnel only to discover that hellfire waited on the other end. What would Teresa and the kids say if he lost his job?

  He stepped through to find himself in a sterile office where gray carpets stretched from wall to wall. A kidney-shaped desk with a surface of perfectly polished glass was the only piece of furniture, Pennfield's monitor turned askew so that he could almost see what the man had been reading.

  The CEO of Penworth Enterprises stood before the window with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out at a field of skyscrapers that glittered in the morning sunlight. “Thank you for coming, Vincent,” he said in that dry, nasal voice of his. “I do hope your men were not seriously injured.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Excellent.” Vincent very nearly lost his footing. Where was the explosion that he had been expecting since being paged up here ten minutes ago? Pennfield was…calm. A little too calm. “Did anyone get a good look at the car she used to make her escape?”

  It didn't seem possible, but Vincent's flush burned even hotter. He lowered his eyes to stare at his shoes. “No, sir,” he rasped. “No one on our staff anyway. Cops are starting to interview witnesses.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Sir…” Vincent couldn't bring himself to look up. “I-I just want to say I'm sorry. If we had only been faster…”

  Pennfield said nothing.

  Folding his arms with a sigh, Vincent backed away. He frowned, shaking his head with disgust. “That woman is just…” Just what? He had nothing. “Sir, I don't know what she took but-”

  “That will be all, Vincent.”

  He nodded.

  Turning around to leave this office made him feel as though a huge weight had been taken off his chest. He could see the hallway through the door and the letters that were now backwards from his perspective. Just a few steps and he would be home fr-

  “Vincent.”

  Panic ripped through him. Vincent turned around to find the other man standing so that he saw him in profile. “If you could be stronger and faster,” Wesley Pennfield began. “If there was a method to endow you with abilities similar to those of the woman who bested half a dozen of your guards, would you take it?”

  “I…yes, sir.”

  Wesley Pennfield smiled. “Excellent,” he said. “That was exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  Chapter 14

  Pounding on the wooden door with the knuckles of his bare fist, Harry let out a hiss at the sting to his fingers. “Jack Hunter?” he called out. “This is Detective Carlson. I've got a warrant to search these premises.”

  He stood in the hallway in a gray suit with a sharp maroon tie, his dark hair combed neat and square. “Jack Hunter?” he said. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if you cooperated.”

  No answer.

  The two uniformed officers at his side exchanged glances, apprehension visible on their faces. Rumours had been spreading like wildfire, and the idea that some kid might be involved with the strange crimes that had been popping up all over the city wasn't one that Harry could keep quiet. He supposed that was for the best; it made his people sharp.

  Harry ground his teeth, then closed his eyes and shook his head. “All right, open it up,” he said, gesturing to the man beside him. “If the kid's not here, it will only make this a whole lot easier.”

  The landlord shuffled forward.

  A tiny man with a ring of gray hair around the back of his skull, he fiddled with a set of keys. “Just a moment,” he grumbled, approaching the door and sliding one in. “I'm telling you the boy is harmless.”

  Harry would judge that for himself.

  The door opened to a small apartment where gray carpet stretched from brick wall to brick wall. A bed in the corner was hidden by curtains, and the only pieces of furniture that Harry saw were a table next to the television and a couch in the middle of the room. Spartan. It reminded him of his college days.

  He nodded.

  The two uniformed men were the first through the door, glancing about as though they expected gunfire at any second. That was probably for the best as well, but it made Harry wistful. Was there ever a time when people hadn't been so jumpy?

  Crossing his arms with a sigh, Harry frowned down at the floor. “The boy is a lot more clever than he looks,” he said, nodding to himself. “Keep your eyes peeled, and don't touch anything you don't have to.”

  He stepped in.

  One of his officers was already drawing back the curtains around the bed. He went stiff, back straightening. “Sir, I think you might want to have a look at this,” he shouted. “Seems Hunter has a girlfriend.”

  Harry paced across the room to find clothes resting on the wooden shelf above the be
d, clothes that were obviously meant for a woman. They were similar to the ones he'd seen in the plastic bag his people found outside the thrift shop.

  Lifting his chin, Harry squinted at the shelf. He shook his head. “That's a start, but not enough for an arrest,” he said, spinning around on his heel. “We need something to prove they belong to Goldilocks.”

  “What about this?”

  Carmichael stood at the closet near the front door, holding a hanger that supported a beige trench coat. “Doesn't this look like the one that woman was wearing on the security camera footage?”

  “Yes…it does.”

  Just then, his phone started screeching at him. He would really have to change that ring tone. He was tempted to ignore it and continue with the search, but after the week he had been through, it was probably something important. Harry brought the phone to his ear. “Carlson, go.”

  “Sir,” Rawlins panted, “you have to get over to the Penworth building.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Dispatch just got a call,” Rawlins explained. “Seems that crazy blonde woman is back and man-handling their people.”

  “Damn it!”

  There were people in this world with a hard-on for architecture; David Hutchinson was not one of them. So, when he looked up at the Penworth building, all he saw was another rectangular skyscraper that made his eyes sting when the sunlight bounced off its windows. Worst of all, the damage to the front wall took away any beauty the building might have had.

  First, the window near the front entrance had been boarded up with plywood, and now there was a great big hole in the southwest stairwell. Whoever this blonde chick was, she really liked to make a mess.

  People were crowded together on the sidewalk behind a line of yellow police tape, all gawking at the damage and muttering to themselves. He could already hear some of the rumours. A woman had jumped through the window! She was some kind of ninja! No, she was an assassin hired by the Socialist Party. No, not the Socialist Party. This hit was ordered by a rival company. Some even said she was an alien! A god damn alien! People believed the stupidest things. Why did he always end up working the crime scenes that attracted the most weirdos?

  Pressing his lips together, David stared up at the building. He squinted, shaking his head. “Black Ops,” he said to himself. “That's gotta be it. Some woman breaking into the place to recover government secrets.”

  Did the Canadian government have secrets?

  His phone rang.

  He checked the screen and felt a chill when he recognized the number. For a brief moment, he was tempted not to answer, but ignoring this call would be bad for his health and his career.

  David brought the receiver to his ear. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “I told you not to call me at work!” he snapped. “You have any idea what would happen if the LT knew I was talking to you?”

  “Now, now, Officer Hutchinson,” Wesley Pennfield replied. “Is that any way to talk to the man who has generously agreed to cover your gambling debts? What do you think would happen if your lieutenant knew about that?”

  David froze.

  “I have a very simple favour to ask you,” Pennfield went on. “Have you identified the car that the perpetrator used to make her escape?”

  David glanced about. When he saw that none of the other officers were paying all that much attention, he turned away from them and whispered, “We did. The car belongs to a Lauren Hunter. The perp has been staying with her brother Jack.”

  “Can you provide me with contact information for this Jack Hunter?” The tone in the man's voice implied that saying “no” would be a mistake.

  Tension formed a knot in the middle of David's chest. Giving out information like that was a serious breach of protocol, a violation of basic civil rights. “Absolutely not!” he shouted into the phone. “I won't put my career on the line for-”

  “Very well,” Pennfield cut in. “Then our association is at an end.”

  Squeezing his eyes shut, David trembled. “All right,” he said, turning away from the others and marching toward the front entrance. “I'll get you the information. Damn it, Pennfield, you need to be discreet.”

  “What I need is none of your concern,” the other man replied. “Now, here's what you're going to do next…”

  The noonday sun was high in the sky, shining down on a field of lush green grass that stretched on to a line of trees with patches of brown dirt here and there. Off in the distance to her right, children played between two white goal posts, kicking a ball with black spots on its surface.

  Jack had taken her to a place called Brewer's Park. According to him, this was far enough away from his neighbourhood in Centre-Town to let them stop for a few minutes and plan their next move.

  Anna stood on the grass with her arms folded, smiling down at her feet. The wind blew tendrils of hair back from her face. “We did it!” she said. “I can't believe we did it.”

  She turned around.

  Jack was smiling at her, his blue eyes practically sparkling in the sunlight. For some reason, she had taken a liking to that messy hair. “Yeah, we did it,” he said, his eyebrows rising. “Now we have to figure out what to do next.”

  “I suppose we could run.”

  Bowing his head, Jack stared down at the grass with a solemn expression. His face seemed to flush. “We could do that,” he replied. “And spend the rest of our lives running from the cops.”

  Guilt was a spear point that had plunged right through Anna's chest when she wasn't looking. In her excitement to free the Nassai – her need to complete this assignment – she had failed to consider how this might affect Jack. Though his intentions were admirable, he had broken the law of this world. There had to be something she could-

  Of course!

  Tilting her head to the side, Anna flashed a sly grin. She batted her eyes. “You can come back to Leyria with me,” she offered. “Dex sent a distress beacon before our ship went down; with any luck they'll find us.”

  Jack kept his face smooth as he peered off into the distance. He nodded to himself, thinking it over. “That would be one hell of an opportunity,” he murmured. “But I have a family that I can't leave behind.”

  So, travelling the stars was not an option then. A pity. In truth, she hadn't expected him to take the offer – very few people would be willing to leave their family behind – but she would have liked to have shown him some of the wonders she had seen. The Syl Nebula and the-

  Wait, what was she thinking? Travelling the stars might not even be an option for her; all of that was contingent on her people detecting the distress beacon, and this world was far from Leyrian space.

  That left her with another problem. The portable containment unit she had stolen would keep the Nassai safe for a few days, but after that, she would need to find another solution. Just as a space suit only offered so much air before the astronaut suffocated, the containment unit would only last so long. If help didn't arrive in that time, there were only two possibilities: the Nassai would either take a host or perish.

  “I would really like to go,” Jack said, bowing his head to her. Apparently, he had been thinking it over while she considered her options. “There's so much I wish I could see, but not without telling my family.”

  She slipped her arms around him.

  Anna pressed her cheek into his chest, closing her eyes. She took a deep, soothing breath. “Could we talk to your authorities?” she inquired. “If we could prove to them that Wesley Pennfield had captured a living being…”

  “It's worth a shot.”

  “Perhaps that Detective Carlson?”

  “Maybe,” he replied. “I-”

  She was startled by a sudden beeping, and Jack pulled away from her. Fishing in his pants pocket, he retrieved a small rectangular device. A cellular telephone? They seemed to be the closest thing these people had to multi-tools.

  Jack narrowed his eyes, staring at the screen. He shook his head. “I don't know th
is number,” he said, answering the call and bringing the receiver to his ear. “You've reached Jack Hunter. How can I help you?”

  As he listened to the person on the other end, his face went paler and paler, and his eyes looked ready to pop out. “It's for you,” he whispered. “Hold on. I'll put him on speaker phone.”

  “Hello?” Anna said.

  “Miss Lenai. This is Wesley Pennfield.”

  Anna bit her lip, then lowered her eyes to the ground. She felt the blood drain out of her face as well. “What do you want?” she grated. “Walk soft, veksha. I have half a mind to bring a fleet of Leyrian cruisers down on your head.”

  Soft chuckling came through the speaker. “You really don't know, do you? Tell me, Miss Lenai, don't you think it's odd that yours was the only shuttle to pursue my associate all the way to this system?”

  “What. Do. You. Want?”

  “I want my property back,” he replied without a hint of inflection. The man seemed to pride himself on complete emotional control. Which meant he wanted her to hear him laughing a moment ago. “And I'm willing to go to great lengths to retrieve it. Were you at all aware of the Byward Market Street Festival taking place today?”

  Jack looked puzzled, his brows drawn together as he stared down at the phone. He glanced up at her. “Why don't you just make your point, Wes?” he asked with a touch of contempt in his voice.

  “Ah, Mr. Hunter, so good you're paying attention. My point is quite simple: the real currency in this world is not money but loyalty, and I have earned more loyalty in the last year alone than you will in your entire lifetime. At the moment, I have a squad of tactical mercs ready to rain death upon the street festival unless I get the Nassai.”

  Anna stiffened, turning her face away from the phone. It was difficult to contain the rage boiling in her chest. “You'd do that?” she hissed. “You'd kill hundreds of people just to have the chance to study an alien?”

  “What I would do,” Pennfield said, “and why I would do it are things beyond your comprehension, my dear. Doubt me if it pleases you; I would be happy to demonstrate my commitment. A few hundred lives are nothing compared to the destiny of the entire human race.”