by R S Penney
Crossing her arms, Anna grunted at him. It was a rare thing to see disapproval on her face – rare to see it directed at him, anyway – but today she was pretty damn liberal with her glares. “And while you hesitate,” she shot back, “the small opponent you're so afraid of hitting pulls a gun on you.”
“That's not fair at-”
“I think,” she continued, pacing toward him, “that this has nothing to do with my size and everything to do with my gender. Are you afraid to hit a woman, Jack? If so, we can end this now.”
“Thank you.”
Anna pursed her lips as she studied him, squinting as though trying to be certain of what she saw. “I was wrong about you,” she said at last. “You were never meant to be a Keeper. Not if you harbour such sexist attitudes.”
“Sexist!”
“A woman can kill you just as easily as a man.” She turned away from him, striding across the mat to stand facing the wall. “A woman can defend herself just as easily, and I can assure you that size is not a factor.”
Gaping at her, Jack blinked in confusion. He shut his eyes and gave his head a shake. “I don't think that women are helpless,” he began. “I'm just not comfortable with the idea of striking one-”
“Then prove it!”
She spun on her heel, glancing over her shoulder, her face flushed and twisted into a nasty scowl. “Attack me,” she goaded. “Show me that you won't hesitate to defend an innocent man from an aggressive woman.”
Jack heaved out a sigh.
Lifting fists into a fighting stance, he began to bounce on the balls of his feet. This would not be easy. Oh, he had no illusions that his superior size would be worth two figs against Anna, but biology was biology. The amygdala didn't really take years of training and a symbiont into account.
With extreme care, he closed the distance between them, feinting from side to side to keep her off balance. As if that would do any good. Still, he had to exploit every single advantage he could.
He threw a punch.
Anna seized his wrist.
She gave a twist and locked his arm in a most uncomfortable position. She pressed down on his elbow, causing him to wonder if she intended to break the bone. Just a little more pressure and she would do just that.
Grinding his teeth together, Jack squeezed his eyes shut. “I think you've made your point,” he said, pulling away from her. “Look, Anna, I don't mean to offend you.”
“Then let's go again.”
Of course they would go again. Jack had only known her for a few weeks, but in that time, he had come to realize she was like a puppy with a chew toy whenever she felt she had something to prove. It seemed she was going to hammer the point home. “If you insist.”
Jack stood before her with fists up in a guarded stance, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He stepped forward with a jab.
Anna ducked.
She slipped past him on the right, then kicked the back of his knee. The next thing he knew, he was down on all fours while a sharp strike to the back of his neck sent a jolt of pain through his spine.
Biting his lower lip, Jack squeezed his eyes shut. He felt his face grow redder and redder. “A woman can defend herself,” he whispered. “I'm sorry, Anna. From now on, I promise to take you seriously.”
“Thank you.”
He glanced over his shoulder to find her standing over him with a pleased smile on her face. She nodded once in approval. “It's a lesson that many young men need to learn, even those who grew up with feminist ideals.”
“Well, that's comforting.”
She chuckled.
So they began again and again with Jack initiating combat each time. He landed on his ass more times than he could count, and those were among the more pleasant ways to be taken down. Sometimes Anna managed to get him doubled over with his arm locked into a painful hold.
But he was learning.
Jack could feel his Nassai working, reinforcing muscle memory every time he tried to deflect one of Anna's punches. They could not communicate abstract concepts unless you put yourself into a deeply meditative state, but they could speed up the rate at which you learned.
He'd grilled Anna on this topic and learned that Nassai preferred to avoid doing this whenever possible. Apparently, forcing the brain to rewire itself at an accelerated rate was risky. Anna's symbiont had only done it because she would have been helpless without the ability to speak English. Likewise, Jack's Nassai understood the need for him to be battle-ready in just a few weeks. After only two hours, fighting made sense to him in a way that it hadn't before.
Anna switched things up, of course, attacking him before he could decide how he would attack her. At one point, he found himself fending off a flurry of blows that drove him all the way back to the wall only to realize he had deflected every one. Months of training condensed into a single day.
There were advantages to symbiosis.
Hesitation was his biggest obstacle. There were moments where, after deflecting one of Anna's punches, instinct demanded he deliver a quick jab to her nose. Jack always managed to restrain himself. That was the problem. In those precious seconds where he stood frozen, Anna would snap-kick or knock his leg out from under him. Each time, she assured him this was normal. No one liked the thought of inflicting harm on someone else – no one worthy of a symbiont, in any case – so almost every Keeper had to overcome the urge to pull his punches.
When it was over, Anna turned away and wiped sweat off her face with a towel. “I think that's enough for now,” she said in a breathy wheeze. “You're coming along, Jack. You're probably dreaming up all sorts of reasons why you aren't learning fast enough, but trust me when I tell you to put that out of your head.”
“So, when do we go again?”
“Tomorrow,” she said. “And the day after. Your body will heal quickly enough that it shouldn't overtax you. Normally, I wouldn't insist on such a fast pace, but there are only two of us here and we need to get you to a point where you can back me up.”
Face glistening with sweat, Jack bit his lip and closed his eyes. He shook his head to clear away the cobwebs. “They're going to put me in the field, aren't they?” he asked. “I thought it would be a long while coming.”
Anna somehow managed to keep her face smooth, her emotions under tight control. “You're a valuable member of the team,” she replied. “Pennfield has access to advanced technology, and there's no way to know what he's going to throw at us. Without us, these people don't stand much of a chance.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I understand.”
So, he might be put into a situation where he had to use force against someone else. Maybe even lethal force. Could he live with that? Well, it was too late to back out now. He'd just have to muddle through as best he could.
Still, the thought gnawed at him. After staring down the barrel of a gun, Jack had been convinced he would make a good Keeper. But giving up your own life was far, far easier than taking someone else's. He mulled it over well into the evening, wondering if he had made a mistake.
Maybe the symbiont was wrong to choose him.
Chapter 22
Through the back door in his sister's kitchen, Jack could see the wooden deck that overlooked a lawn of dead brown grass. A wooden fence was less than a stone's throw away, rising to jagged peaks under a cloudy sky.
Lauren was kneeling on the deck with her back to the door, hunched over as she inspected something. Dressed in jean shorts, she wore her brown hair tied into a short ponytail. Well, this isn't going to be fun.
Jack slid the door open.
His sister glanced over her shoulder, a frown putting wrinkles in her brow. “I didn't expect to see you today,” she said, turning back to the potted plant she had been fussing over. “What's up?”
“Mom and Dad are safe,” Jack informed her. “Patel has some of her best people on them twenty-four-seven.”
“That's good.”
Jack slipped his hands into the pockets of his blue j
eans, marching to the edge of the deck with his head down. “I figured you'd want to know,” he said with a shrug. “You've been pretty worried ever since this started.”
Worried didn't even begin to cover it. His sister still thought the Nassai had taken over his body. Talking her out of calling their parents had been a daily chore. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure she hadn't done so against his wishes.
Lauren went as pale as a ghost. “I have been worried,” she whispered, “about you mostly. Jack, how could you let an alien share your body?”
Jack gritted his teeth, then slapped a palm over his face. He groaned. “We've been over this,” he said in exasperated tones. “It was that or let Hutchinson kill you. He wasn't going to leave any witnesses.”
Lauren knelt with arms folded, shivering. She kept her head down so that he could only see the top of her scalp. “Yeah, so you've said,” she murmured. “It just…I can't even tell if it's still you.”
The sudden burst of anger came on so fast it took him a moment to realize the emotion had not been his own. Apparently, his symbiont was offended by the insinuations Lauren threw her way.
Baring his teeth, Jack shot a glance over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes, sweat matting dark hair to his brow. “It's me,” he said coldly. “The same little brother who used to hide your iPod.”
“I still think we should tell Mom and Dad.”
Jack frowned, tilting his head back. He blinked as he considered the issue. “If you do that,” he began, “you upset some very powerful people in the government. They could hit you with charges.”
Lauren spat.
She got up and marched down the wooden steps, making her way across the brown grass. “You know me, Jack,” she said, staring at the fence with all its pits and cracks. “I can't leave things unfinished.”
Wasn't that the truth. Growing up, his sister had been the kind of girl to colour code her notebooks and leave little sticky tabs on everything. No doubt she was applying that tenacity to the fence. He had listened to her complain about it before. The fence and his refusal to involve their parents.
Lauren seemed to think there was some innate order to the world. Families just did not keep secrets from each other; it went against nature. He had every intention of telling his parents. Eventually.
When he had a handle on things himself.
Jack felt his mouth tighten, a sudden warmth flooding his face. He closed his eyes and let his head hang. “What do you want me to say, Lauren?” he asked. “ 'Okay, let's go against the wishes of my superiors and commit treason?' ”
She turned so that he saw her in profile, looking over her shoulder. “I want you to think about how your actions affect me,” she growled. “How they affect Mom and Dad. Think of someone else for a change.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Correct me if I'm wrong,” she snapped, “but right this moment, CSIS operatives are keeping watch on our parents because the billionaire you pissed off might decide to come for a little revenge.”
“That's the gist, yeah.”
Lauren spun around to face him, crossing arms over her chest. She lifted her chin to fix an icy glare on him. “So, why did you have to get involved?” she asked. “How come this couldn't be someone else's problem?”
Jack winced, turning his head so that she wouldn't see his expression. “Because I'm not willing to let an innocent creature die,” he said, backing away from her. “Some things are bigger than you and me.”
He turned around.
In the glass door that looked in on the kitchen, he saw his own dim reflection like a shadow against the gray sky. How fitting. That was how he felt right now: submerged in darkness. “Is that really the kind of world you want to live in?” he asked. “A world where people turn a blind eye to injustice?”
His Nassai provided him with a mental image of his sister standing there with her arms folded. It was almost sharp enough to let him see the grimace on her face. “Do not make this about some larger social issue.”
“But it is about some larger social issue.”
“No, it's about us!” she shouted. “It's about the danger you've put me in, the danger you've put Mom and Dad in.”
Jack closed his eyes, a single tear running down his pale cheek. “Well, that's good to know,” he said, nodding. “I'm not going to argue this point further. If you'd feel safer with me keeping my distance, that's fine with me.”
He left without another word.
Despite sunlight that came in through the front window, the small bar on MacLaren Street was dark. Neon signs up on the walls cast a colourful glow over tables and booths with leather seats.
Anna found Harry Carlson sitting on a barstool with his back turned, lifting a mug of beer to his lips. Why the man had called her here was uncertain. Mastering the use of one of their cellular phones had been simple enough. Not so different from a multi-tool in all honesty. True, removing all the superfluous applications to allow for faster processing time had been cumbersome, but once she had that done, making and answering calls had been as easy as breathing.
Dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt with red flowers, Anna approached the man. “Well, here I am,” she said. “So, what precisely did you want to talk to me about?”
He turned.
Carlson wore a troubled expression, his eyes hard as he studied her. He lifted his mug. “Something to drink?” he asked. “Don't worry about the expense. It's on me today.”
Anna hopped onto the stool beside him. A drink sounded lovely, but her symbiont didn't care for alcohol, and she disliked the bubbly beverages that most restaurants in this city offered. Too syrupy. By the look of this place, it was highly unlikely she would find decent fruit juice.
Pressing her lips together, Anna shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “A glass of water, please,” she said with a nod to the bartender. “With ice and a slice of lemon if it's not too much trouble.”
The young man smiled, his cheeks turning red. He bowed his head to stare down at the floor. “Coming right up,” he said, hunching over to fill her glass with ice. At times, she wondered what it would be like to work in the hospitality industry. It gave one a chance to meet so many interesting people. What would the young man think if he realized that the woman he served had been born on a different planet?
He set the glass down in front of her.
Anna flashed a smile.
“Thank you kindly,” she said, setting a five-dollar bill down on the counter. Harry Carlson had offered to buy the drinks, but she could leave a good tip. She wouldn't want to seem rude. “I appreciate your hard work.”
The bartender left with a grin on his face.
Frowning in confusion, Carlson studied her over his shoulder. He shook his head in disapproval. “I thought you were sweet on Hunter, Anna,” he said. “Is there some reason you're playing the role of shameless flirt?”
“Excuse me?”
Harry leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath, a scowl twisting his face. “I don't care who you flirt with or sleep with for that matter,” he began. “But getting close to that boy would risk exposing things we'd rather keep secret.”
“I am not flirting.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Vaneesh del vaneeshari,” she said in her own language, speaking softly enough to avoid being overheard. “Serve the servants.” When Carlson looked confused, she felt a sudden queasiness. Didn't these people understand basic courtesy? “When someone is in a position of deference, you go out of your way to be as polite as possible. Behaving as though you're ordering him around is the height of rudeness.”
“But he has to take your order,” Carlson said. “That's his job.”
“Precisely the point. In accepting this position, he surrenders a small portion of his freedom. It would be so easy to abuse him or demean him. And, therefore, those of us who avail ourselves of his services must be on our best behaviour.”
“Not on thi
s planet,” Harry whispered, lifting the mug to his lips. He took a drink, then set it down on the counter once again. “On this planet, you state your order, then pay and go about your business. Most people try not to notice their server.”
Anna ground her teeth as she stared into her glass. The heat in her face matched the fire in her veins. “Because you see them as objects,” she said, “not as people. They exist only to serve your whims.”
Harry Carlson threw his head back, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “Anna, you are praising him for bringing you a glass of water,” he snapped. “My, what a terrible burden it must have been for him.”
“And I suppose that's all he did today.” Anna threw a glance over her shoulder. “He certainly didn't clean a filthy restroom or tolerate another customer's belligerence with good humour. Learn some manners, Carlson. It won't kill you.”
“I'm not going to debate whether this is right or wrong,” he muttered. “If you want to avoid drawing attention to yourself, you need to do as we do.”
The more Anna learned about what they did on this planet, the more she wanted to go home. Of course, she couldn't say as much. And a tiny part of her had to acknowledge the arrogance in thinking that the Leyrian way was the only way. Other cultures had as much right to their customs; there were other valid ways of living.
Of course, there were plenty of invalid ways of living as well. Being open-minded did not mean you had to tolerate a custom simply because it was someone else's custom. If custom dictated that husbands beat their wives, she wouldn't blink an eye at putting a stop to it, and diplomacy be damned. Besides, there was just as much arrogance in a man thinking that a woman desired him just because she had been polite. “You know, Carlson, a woman should be able to demonstrate common courtesy without every man in earshot mistaking it for sexual attraction. The words please, thank you, and I appreciate your hard work are not secret code for would you like to go to dinner?”
“I see,” he said into his mug. “And what do you say when you want to ask someone to go to dinner?”
