by R S Penney
Slapping a palm over her forehead, Anna let out a frustrated groan. “Well, I generally go with would you like to go to dinner?” she said. “It's crazy, I know. You'll just have to blame my estrogen-addled brain.”
“Let's talk about Jack,” he said, changing the subject.
Anna frowned, her face tight with anxiety. She jerked her head toward the tables by the window. “If we're going to talk,” she began, “then let's do it somewhere a little more private, shall we?”
Without waiting, she got up and marched across the room with her drink in hand, making herself at home in a small wooden chair. A little sunlight was a welcome change. Why Carlson would want to meet in a dingy old bar was beyond her.
The man sat down across from her, a tight frown on his face. His dark eyes were intense as he looked her up and down. “Do you think Hunter's ready?” he asked. “You haven't been training him long.”
Planting elbows on the table, Anna laced her fingers and rested her chin on top of them. “Ready for what?” she asked, eyebrows rising. “You have to give me some context before I can answer that.”
Harry Carlson grimaced, bowing his head to peer into his lap. He seemed genuinely upset. “I've located Hutchinson,” he said. “The officer who assaulted me and pulled a gun on Jack. I'll need both of you to bring him in.”
“What's the plan?”
Carlson winced, shaking his head as though the thought of discussing it sickened him. “Not here,” he insisted. “You two can come into the office tomorrow. We'll lay out the plans then.”
Anna heaved out a sigh. Why had the man brought her here if he had no intention of telling her anything concrete? “Well, I can't answer your question, then,” she said. “I need specifics.”
“Give me a general assessment of his tactical abilities,” Carlson inquired. “Can we trust him not to panic in the face of danger?”
Anna bit her lip, nodding to herself. She lowered her eyes to stare at the table and chose her words carefully. “He no longer hesitates before throwing a punch,” she began. “Thanks to his Nassai, he's learning at an accelerated rate, and his competence with the basic forms of hand-to-hand combat is solid.”
“Will he panic?”
Pursing her lips, Anna looked up to fix her eyes on the man. She squinted, holding his gaze. “There's no way to answer that,” she said. “A Keeper never knows how she'll perform until she faces real danger.”
Harry looked a tad confused, and it took her a moment to realize that her use of the word she was to blame. Curse this language and its lack of a gender-neutral pronoun for living beings. Perhaps Anna should have gone with he. No matter. “I believe Jack can handle it.”
“Based on?”
“You saw him when Hutchinson pulled a gun on him,” she replied. “Did he panic then?”
“No,” Harry mumbled. “Kid has guts.”
“Then trust him,” she said. “And trust me.”
Anna brought the glass of water to her lips and downed more than half of it in a single gulp. Dear Companion, she was thirsty. “Thanks for the drink,” she said, setting it down on the table. “It was…educational.”
When she got home, she found Jack standing at the dining room window with his back turned, peering out at the street. She couldn't quite say what made her think so, but gloom seemed to radiate from him.
With her mouth agape, Anna blinked at him. “Well, the tables have turned,” she muttered. “In the interest of fairness, I won't get angry if you snarl at me.”
Jack stiffened, refusing to turn away from the window. He clasped hands together behind his back and stood there like a statue. “It's Lauren,” he said softly. “She almost accused me of putting my family in danger.”
Closing her eyes, Anna trembled as a shiver went through her. “Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant to bring such turmoil into your life.”
He turned so that she saw him in profile, then glanced over his shoulder. “Meeting you may just be the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I have a purpose.”
Anna bit her lip, nodding to herself. “Bonding a Nassai will do that,” she said, her eyebrows shooting up. “But it never occurred to me that it might also alienate you from the people you love.”
“Why should it have?”
“In my culture, symbiosis is considered an honour,” she explained. “Only the best and brightest are chosen. I was so driven, so focused on saving the Nassai. I decided that you would make an excellent Keeper after knowing you for only two days. I never once considered the personal consequences for you.”
Guilt squeezed her insides into a little ball, so tight she felt as if she might pass out from lack of oxygen. Oddly, her Nassai offered…something. The emotional equivalent of soothing words. The logical part of her mind knew this was the best possible outcome. If Jack had refused the symbiont, it would have perished – a sentient being's life was more important than family drama – but that didn't change that she felt very much like an unwelcome interloper.
She sat down in a chair with hands folded on her knees, frowning into her lap. “I'm sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Sometimes I wish that I had never followed Denario to this planet.”
“Right, because it's all your fault.”
He leaned against the windowsill with arms folded, shaking his head in dismay. “It couldn't possibly be Denario's fault,” he went on. “Or Pennfield's fault. We can only try to do the right thing, An. We can't blame ourselves for what other people do.”
Pressing her lips together, Anna looked up to study him. She narrowed her eyes. “It seems you really are a Keeper at heart,” she murmured. “Dray Adarus himself could not have said it better.”
Jack went red, bowing his head to her. He clamped a hand over his mouth to hide his blush. “Well, I'm full of surprises,” he said into his palm. “Lauren is my problem. So please don't tear yourself up over it.”
Anna nodded.
Tilting her head back, she stared up at the ceiling, then blinked. “There might be something we can do,” she offered. “Maybe if I talked to her, gave her a chance to really know me.”
“You think that's wise?”
“Right now, she sees me as the strange alien woman who stole her brother.” Anna had been mulling this over for a few days now, trying to put herself in the other woman's position. How would she feel to learn that Alia had been drawn into some scheme by aliens with technology beyond her wildest imaginings? “If she can see me as a person, as a friend even, it might change her mind.”
Jack frowned, staring over her head at nothing at all. “That might actually work,” he said, nodding to himself. “I hope.”
“It's settled then,” she said softly. “We need to get down to CSIS.”
“What for?”
“What do you think?”
He winced in anticipation of a sudden blow, then rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. “Yeah, I get you,” he said, turning around. “Give me a minute. I'm going to go get the Advil.”
Anna bounced on the gym mat with her fists up, a light sheen on the surfaces of her boxing gloves. The look of determination on her face gave him some encouragement. He was actually giving her a challenge.
Face glistening with sweat, Anna frowned as she studied him. She blinked. “So, are you ready?” she asked, coming forward. “We can rest for a few minutes if you need a bit of a breather.”
Jack sucked on his lip, then lowered his gaze to the floor. “Ready as I'll ever be,” he said, his brow furrowing. “Let's do this.”
She charged at him.
Jack leaped and somersaulted over her head, allowing her to run past beneath him. He flipped upright to land hard on the mat, then raised gloved fists into a boxer's stance. With a growl, he spun around.
Anna was ready for him. She kicked him in the belly, then spun and backhanded, her fist whirling around.
Jack leaned back.
The
sight of her boxing glove passing in front of his nose was enough to make him flinch. When she came around to face him, he snapped himself upright. He slugged her right in the jaw.
Anna stumbled backward, raising gloved hands to shield her face. “Ow!” she said. “You're getting good at this.” Now was his chance. Jack knew he had to act quickly to press his advantage.
He charged forward, then dropped to his knees and slid across the mat. He threw a hard punch to her stomach. Anna went flying backward, landing hard on her bottom with a grunt. Against all logic, she recovered.
She curled her legs against her chest and sprang off the floor, landing upright with fists raised. “Not nice, sweetie.” She raced across the mat with all the force of a tempest, howling like a mother wolf.
Anna dropped low, sweeping her leg across the mat in a wide arc that would take his feet out from under him. Instinct kicked in before he could think. Jack bent his knees and leaped.
He back-flipped through the air, heart pounding ferociously. He uncurled to land poised upon his feet, bringing up both fists.
Anna was one step ahead of him.
A blur in his field of vision, she charged in while crouched low. She punched him once in the stomach, then rose to deliver a back-hand strike to his cheek. Jack flinched, head turning from the force of the blow.
He fell over sideways, landing hard on the mat. A wheezing breath exploded from his lungs. “Jesus,” he said, shaking his head. “You're so damn quick. How do you move like that?”
Anna frowned down at him, her eyes narrowed to slits. She nodded to herself, as though deciding to answer. “Practice,” she said. “I knew what you were going to do and made myself ready to counter.”
“That sweep kick,” he said. “It wouldn't have knocked me down. My weight was evenly distributed.”
She flashed a wicked grin, her blue eyes alight with mischief. “No, it wouldn't,” she said, shaking her head. “But it made you react. It made you act on instinct and set you up for me to take you down.”
Jack wiped his face with a towel, then looked up to blink at her. “Well, at least I'll remember that next time.”
She offered an impish grin, a touch of crimson in her cheeks. “That's the spirit,” Anna said with a quick bob of her head. “Just keep that in mind. We're about to put your abilities to the test.”
“More sparring?”
Anna closed her eyes, shaking her head with a heavy sigh. “Afraid not,” she said, turning away from him and marching across the mat. “I just got news from Patel earlier this morning. We're going after Hutchinson.”
Chapter 23
“Dropping out of warp.”
The young navigation officer who sat at a station on the captain's right side wore a black uniform and kept her blonde hair tied back with a clip. Jena could only see the back of her head, but she was fairly certain the woman was scowling.
The bridge of this Viper-Class frigate was large enough to comfortably hold about twelve people, and its gray carpets and curved walls made her feel as though she were standing inside of a very large egg. Captain Taborn, a stern-faced woman with bronzed skin and raven hair, sat in her large swivelling chair. “Show it on main display.”
The large screen at the front of the room flickered, displaying the image of a dark circle against a field of stars. They had approached the planet on the night side, and the sun was just barely visible from behind.
Jena looked up to watch the screen. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Any sign of Lenai's shuttle?” she asked. “Metal deposits, wreckage. Anything to indicate she was here?”
A young man on the captain's left frowned down at his console. Dark of skin and bald except for a layer of stubble, he had that brash look that was oh-so-common among anyone under twenty-five. “No, ma'am.”
Baring her teeth, Jena winced. She heaved out a sigh. “It was too much to hope, I guess,” she muttered. “Just to be on the safe side, I suggest we run a full scan.”
Taborn swivelled around in her chair, facing Jena with an expression so imperious you might have thought her a queen. “Every system we've scanned so far has turned up no results.”
“Which is why we're going to keep scanning until we find something.” Even with the faster-than-light properties of SlipSpace, a distress beacon this far out had very little hope of making contact. That its signal had been detected by anyone – a passing cargo hauler, no less – was a miracle. By the time this mission got underway, the beacon had burned out, leaving them with only a vague idea of where to search for Lenai.
They narrowed down the process by searching for star systems similar enough to their own for human life to have a fighting chance – the message transmitted by Dex Arin had been clear on that point – but after searching three systems, they had found nothing. The planet they now orbited had a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, but the balance was off. If Lenai was down there, she was probably delirious and gasping for breath.
Touching a finger to her lips, Jena closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, then let it out again. “Full scan,” she said. “Let's be as thorough as possible. We do not leave our people behind.”
She turned away.
“Operative Morane,” Taborn called out.
“Yes, Captain Taborn,” she replied in the mildest tone she could manage. “What can I do for you?”
When she turned, she found the other woman sitting with her chin thrust out and a frown on her face. “Need I remind you that this is my ship?” she inquired. “I'm happy to assist in your search, but-”
The alarm started blaring.
Young Lieutenant Noran – the man on the captain's left – grimaced as he scanned his console. “Picking up energy signatures, ma'am,” he shouted. “Readings are consistent with Overseer technology.”
“Get us out of here!” Taborn bellowed.
The young blonde navigator – Jena didn't know her name – went bone white as she looked up from her console. “They're generating a disruption pulse through SlipSpace,” she said. “We can't establish a warp field. Gravitational engines not responding.”
“Conventional drives!” Taborn shouted. “Reverse thrusters. All stations, brace for inertia!” The navigator gave a count of five before executing the order.
Jena was suddenly thrown forward, stumbling toward the front of the bridge with hands upraised to shield her face. The bridge officers had secured themselves with seatbelts, but she had been standing.
She went face-first into the wall with just enough force to send a jolt of pain up her arm. “Damn it!” Jena said as she steadied herself. “What's going on? Are they trying to fire on us?”
“Drones rising from the planet's surface.”
“Show me!” Taborn ordered.
The screen flickered, producing the image of a small cylindrical object that might have looked like a missile if not for spokes that rose out of its body and curved toward the front. The drone's outer shell looked like flesh…and that was precisely what it was. Overseer technology had been grown, not built.
Jena counted three, all breaking orbit and flying toward them. Suddenly, the tip of each spoke burst alight, and particle beams streamed from each to the drone's rounded nose. It released a stream of brilliant energy.
The room swayed in a way that reminded her of a boat on a very turbulent sea, but so far as Jena could tell, there was no real damage. “Shields holding,” Noran shouted. “No damage to the outer hull.”
“Captain, I've found the reason our main drives aren't working,” the navigator said. “There's some kind of structure on the southern continent that's matching our maneuvers. Every time we try to generate a gravitational field, it generates an equally powerful one in the opposite direction.”
Taborn had her lips pressed together, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the screen. Right then, Jena would have been happy to be anywhere that wasn't in her field of vision. “Are there any signs of civilization?”
“No, ma'am.”
Gritting he
r teeth, Zai-Ella Taborn shook her head. She leaned forward in her chair, hands gripping the armrests. “Then hit that thing with the biggest nuke we've got. We're going to have to resort to brute force.”
Lieutenant Noran complied, and Jena found herself watching the screen. She caught a brief flicker of motion as something erupted from the ship's nose, then waited for what felt like a minute.
The planet hung there before her with its night-side exposed, visible only by the absence of stars and a small crescent of light along the edge. Just when she was about to ask if the warhead had somehow been disabled, a flash of brilliant radiance expanded on the southern continent.
“We're free.”
“Reverse course!” Taborn shouted.
Stars wheeled along the screen until they were pointed away from the planet. This time, Jena felt no inertia. Universal acceleration. Everything on the ship had moved at the exact same time.
“No sign of Lenai's shuttle?” she called out. “We haven't detected any of the standard alloys?”
Zai-Ella Taborn was staring at the monitor, her face as red as a roaring campfire. “In case you haven't noticed,” she said through clenched teeth, “we're just a little busy at the moment, Operative Morane.”
Jena returned her attention to the screen.
Stars began to stretch into thin lines, growing longer and longer until it seemed as though they were flying through a blizzard of narrow white streaks. “We're at Warp,” a man's voice called out. Jena was barely cognizant of the speaker. “Heading toward the outer system at 2.25C.”
“Maintain course,” Taborn instructed. “When we've cleared the system, accelerate to 31kC and head for the next system on our list.” She swivelled around in her chair. “If I could speak to you in private, Operative Morane.”
Bleakness…
Being the captain of a starship afforded you your own office, which was a generous perk even if the room was not much bigger than a closet. Little more than four walls with a curved desk of reinforced glass, Zai-Ella Taborn's office was decorated with paintings of gardens and forests.
