Symbiosis

by R S Penney

  Missy appeared in the doorway.

  Tall and slim, she wore a pair of blue jeans and a red t-shirt, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Nothing's going on, Missy,” she said, mimicking his words from so many of their recent conversations. “If something was going on, I would tell you. It's nothing important…just first contact with aliens. No big deal.”

  Harry frowned, shaking his head. “You don't understand, kiddo.” He looked up and blinked at his daughter. “If that information got out, people could have been hurt. I had to keep it a secret.”

  Missy bit her lip, her cheeks suddenly a deep crimson. She looked away, as if the sight of him pained her. “So, in other words, you don't trust me,” she whimpered. “You don't think I can keep a secret.”

  “That's not what this is about.”

  Lifting her chin, Missy gave him that frigid glare that she had learned from her mother. “No, it isn't,” she said. “This is about you lying to me, and me wondering how I can ever trust you again.”

  Those words hit him like a punch to the gut. His daughter didn't think she could trust him? Didn't she understand that he was just doing his job? No, of course she didn't. That wasn't how it worked in the mind of a teenager. “Listen, Missy, I'm sorry that I had to mislead you, but-”

  She turned around, putting her back to him, and marched off down the hallway. “I don't want to talk about it,” Missy called out.

  A heavy sigh escaped Harry. He had known that the arrival of the Leyrians would create all sorts of complications, but he hadn't anticipated anything quite like this.

  Chapter 30

  Raindrops pattered against the windshield of Lauren's car, sliding over the glass in thin streams only to be pushed aside by the wiper blades. Through the pane, Jack could see a sidewalk on his right and a tall chain-link fence. He had taken Anna to a small airfield just outside of Gatineau.

  This is where they would say good-bye.

  Breathing deeply, Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. “So I know we've been putting off this conversation,” he said, ignoring the queasy feeling in his belly. “But I'm guessing you don't want to do the whole long-distance thing.”

  Anna pressed her lips together, her eyes downcast. “It would be difficult,” she said, eyebrows rising. “We will be living on different planets. It's highly unlikely that our time zones will link up.”

  He had expected as much.

  “But…” she began.

  Jack shut his eyes, resting his head against the seat cushion. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not going to do that. You deserve a chance to be with someone who can be there for you.”

  Anna was frowning, staring through the windshield with a solemn expression. He had no clue what she was thinking. In all likelihood, she was about to tell him that she could make her own choice. He didn't dispute that, but he didn't want to force-

  Anna turned her head to look out the passenger-side window, giving him a glimpse of her short little ponytail. “You're my best friend, Jack,” she said softly. “You'll always be my best friend.”

  “Yeah.”

  Outside, the rain poured down on the slick road and left puddles on the sidewalk. The fence glistened with moisture. If he looked carefully, he could make out the nose of the shuttle that would take her away.

  Jack stared into his lap. “So, I guess this is good-bye then,” he said, nodding. “For what it's worth, I think I learned more from you than I did from any of my previous teachers.”

  “Likewise.”

  Anna studied him with sadness on her face, tears glistening in those big blue eyes. “I'm a different person than I was a few months ago,” she said. “And that's a good thing. This is not good-bye.”

  “But-”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I refuse to listen to it. This is not good-bye because I say it's not good-bye, and you should know that when I put my mind to something, I bloody well get my way.”

  Anna leaned in close to give him a peck on the cheek. She pulled away, blinking at him. “Take care of your sister,” she said, opening the door. “And don't worry. Everything will be alright.”

  The days after Anna's departure were hard on Jack, but he got by as best he could. She had promised to make contact as soon as she was settled on Alios, and that was good enough for now. She'd be spending the next year or so in a tropical paradise. As far as Jack was concerned, there were worse fates.

  He went about his business, trying to build bridges with his new bosses. Many of the Keepers that he met were really quite friendly, but a few rubbed him the wrong way. He could only describe them as stuffy, or in some cases, remote. That left him a tad unsettled. Anyone who made it his business to protect the innocent ought to be the kind of person who projected warmth.

  The conversation with his parents went about as well as he could have hoped. He still felt pangs of anxiety when he recalled the sight of them standing there blinking at him in confusion. Their son was one of these new super soldiers who carried an alien symbiont? In the end, his motherr had been supportive. Well…as supportive as anyone could expect under such circumstances. His father had been very quiet for a very long time. Well, at least she isn't as vocal with her objections as Lauren.

  For the moment, his biggest concern was impressing his handlers. The e-mail had shown up in his inbox that morning: he had been assigned to a new mentor. Jack stifled a burst of anxiety as he went to meet her.

  The small office that CSIS had given the representative from the Justice Keepers was really more of a cubbyhole. A simple wooden desk sat in the middle of gray carpets, roughly halfway between two white walls without a spec of ornamentation. Blinds on the back window shut out the sun.

  The officer Jack found waiting there stood with hands clasped behind her back: a slender young woman in gray pants and a short-sleeved shirt. Her black hair fell to the small of her back. “You are Hunter?” she asked.

  Turning, she revealed her face. She had a statuesque appearance with smooth dark skin and thin eyebrows. “I am Sarissa,” the woman said. “I will facilitate the completion of your training. I'll see to it that you are properly instructed.”

  Jack thrust his chin out, blinking at the woman. “I wasn't aware that Anna's tutelage was improper,” he said, stepping into the office. “If you ask me, I think she's done an excellent job under difficult circumstances.”

  Sarissa frowned, then looked down to study her shoes. “We are well aware of your fondness for Agent Lenai,” she began. “She has some unorthodox beliefs regarding the role of a Justice Keeper.”

  “You don't say.”

  The woman looked up, and when her eyes fell upon him, they all but smoldered. It was clear that she resented this position. “From this point onward, you will report to me. You will follow my every instruction.”

  Dropping into the chair across from her, Jack considered his options. Something about this woman rubbed him the wrong way. Those fears about symbionts ending up with unsuitable hosts came bubbling up. He could hardly imagine a Nassai choosing her.

  Jack craned his neck to stare at her, squinting as he chose his words. “That should not be a problem,” he said, shaking his head. “After all, it's not like you're going to order me to violate my conscience.”

  She gave him a tight-mouthed frown, then tossed hair back over her shoulder with a flick of her head. “We will begin with an assessment of your self-defence technique,” she said. “I expect you in the gym at-”

  “Am I interrupting?”

  An ugly writhing sensation like spiders crawling over his skin popped into Jack's head just before a man stepped into the doorway behind him. With Summer's help, he was able to make out the newcomer's features.

  The guy was tall and slender, dressed in a pair of pants and a long coat that fell to his knees. His hair was long as well, falling straight back over his shoulders. “I wanted to meet our newest recruit.”

  Jack stood.

  When he turned, he was able to add colour to t
he mental image. The coat was red, the man's hair black and his face had distinctly Asian features. Of course, the guy had never been to Asia, but-

  “Director,” Sarissa mumbled.

  A smile stretched across the other man's face, a smile that somehow failed to touch his eyes. “My name is Grecken Slade,” he said with a nod. “And you are the first Justice Keeper from this planet. I hope you're comfortable attending diplomatic functions.”

  Grinning sheepishly, Jack lowered his eyes to the floor. He reached up to scrub a hand through his hair. “Well, I'm told I clean up real nice,” he muttered. “So bring on the glitz and the glamour.”

  Slade pursed his lips as he looked Jack up and down. “Well,” he said, eyebrows rising, “it's been a pleasure to meet you. I am quite certain that you will be a welcome addition to the team.”

  Jack left the office with his skin writhing. That man was a snake; he was sure of it. He probed Summer for her reaction and found nothing. Apparently, his symbiont didn't know what to make of the man who led their organization. From what he had been told, Slade was one of the most highly decorated Keepers in the last hundred years. So how did a man like that fall from grace?

  You want to know the thing that pushed Lucifer over the edge? he asked Summer. Too many people lavished too much praise on him. In Jack's opinion no man should ever feel too good about himself. You ought to be your own worst critic, and the instant you stopped doing that, disaster happened.

  He made his way down to the detention cells. He was suddenly very much in need of answers. A little careful prodding might be enough to extract a morsel of information out of Pennfield.

  The cellblock was little more than a narrow corridor with barred doors on either side, though Pennfield's had been electrified to prevent him from trying anything. The man had ignored just about every attempt to question him.

  Jack crossed his arms as he made his way down the corridor, staring down at his feet. “Rise and shine, Wes!” he called out. “We need to have a serious talk about who you've been slumming around-”

  He reached Pennfield's cell.

  It was empty.

  He found nothing but a bench along the back wall, a sink and a toilet with no sign that anyone had ever occupied the space. The spatial awareness gained from contact with Summer confirmed what his eyes told him. The cell was empty.

  “Oh crap…”

  Wesley Pennfield rolled onto his back on the soft, moist ground. Consciousness seeped into his mind like drips from a leaky faucet, beginning with a sense of trepidation that he could not identify. He felt strangely calm for a man on the verge of panic. A few seconds passed before he realized the fear was not his own.

  His symbiont was terrified.

  As blurred vision solidified into recognizable objects, he took a moment to inspect his surroundings. He was in a cavern of some sort…or a tunnel. A tunnel unlike any other that he had ever seen.

  A kind of ambient light permeated the space, allowing him to see dark brown walls of some membranous substance. Tubes rose from the floor like large jagged stalagmites, twisting and turning as they intersected with the walls or ceilings. On closer inspection, he saw that they pulsed with some kind of liquid.

  Not tubes then.

  Veins.

  Touching the walls revealed a texture like smooth skin, warm to the touch, and he could swear that he saw tiny capillaries pulsing as he made contact. This place was alive. He was inside a living organism.

  Wesley sat up.

  He still wore the black pants and turtleneck that he had worn on the night when he had been captured by CSIS. Head hanging, he let out a deep breath.

  Wesley frowned, shutting his eyes tight. He shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Is anyone out there?” he called out. “Anyone.”

  His symbiont practically screamed.

  Only then did he open his mind to the sensations that it had been trying to share. With the Drethen terrified out of its wits, he had been afraid to risk contact with its mind. Spatial awareness filled his thoughts.

  And he noticed it.

  Perched at the top of a slope, a little ways up the tunnel, it sat there watching him, the large bulbous protrusion that he could only assume was the creature's head tilted like a sparrow inspecting a worm. Determining the creature's exact shape was impossible; it seemed to huddle in on itself.

  Worst of all, he could not see it!

  As far as his eyes were concerned, he was completely alone in what appeared to be a long tunnel of living tissue. The creature was there – he could feel it watching him – but the damn thing was completely invisible.

  Closing his eyes, Wesley drew in a shuddering breath. “Well, at least we've come this far,” he whispered. “Do you intend to speak with me, or would you rather just consume my flesh now?”

  The creature shuffled off.

  “We are pleased.”

  The sound of his own voice made his heart seize up with a sudden jolt of pain, and when he looked around, he saw another version of himself standing a little ways off. This Wesley was clad in Armani – a fine gray suit with a white shirt. His hair was combed to perfection, and glasses rested on his face.

  “Pleased?” Wesley asked.

  “Yes,” his doppleganger replied.

  Wesley unbuckled his belt. It was the only thing he had on him after so long in that bloody holding cell. He slid it free of the belt loops with enough gusto to leave a whistle in the air, then hurled it at his doppelganger.

  As expected, his belt passed right through the other Wesley. His twin was nothing but an illusion, a telepathic projection beamed directly into his head by the creature that had scrambled up the hallway. He had communicated with such constructs before. That could mean only one thing.

  Wesley Pennfield was in the presence of his Gods, the beings that fools like Anna Lenai called Overseers. Overseers! A banal term spoken by banal people who failed to comprehend the majesty of their creators. He preferred the term Old Ones. Their true name was unpronounceable by human mouths.

  With sweat slicking his face, Wesley looked up at himself and blinked. “You are pleased?” he asked, deep creases forming in his brow. “I allowed the Leyrians to make contact with this world.”

  The other man frowned, then lowered his eyes. He shook his head with a sigh. “It is of no consequence,” he explained. “Our projections suggested a very high probability of this particular eventuality.”

  “You are not angry?”

  The other Wesley tilted his head, studying him. The question was probably absurd. For all he knew, these beings had no concept of anger. He had been ordered to keep Earth and Leyria apart, and he had done so to the best of his ability, but there were other goals that he had been told to accomplish, goals that required the procurement of a symbiont.

  Bringing Denario Tarse to Earth had been worth the risk. If Slade had done his part, the Lenai girl would never have ventured into Dead Space. Perhaps the blame was not entirely his own.

  His doppelganger clasped hands together behind his back, standing prim and proper with his chin thrust out. “There are contingencies,” he said, nodding. “We will amend our plans as needed.”

  Red-faced, Wesley stared up at the man with his mouth open. He blinked over and over. “I am not to be punished then?” he whispered. “You will not make an example of my failure?”

  Again, the other man stared at him with a flat expression, as if the master who pulled his strings did not know how the puppet should respond. Wesley scolded himself. Of course, he was not to be punished; that was a human way of thinking. If he understood their reasoning correctly, contact between Earth and Leyria was an undesirable but highly probable scenario, one that you planned for in much the same way that people who lived in the Caribbean planned for hurricanes. When a storm came, you didn't get angry; you just followed your contingency plan. “Why are you pleased?”

  “Your initiative has not gone unnoticed,” his other self replied. “When it became clear that contact betwe
en your people and the Leyrians was inevitable, you acted to ensure that such contact would produce favourable results. This proves you worthy of the gift we have given you.”

  The gift. His symbiont.

  His twin spun around, allowing Wesley a glimpse of the back of his well-tailored gray suit. “Come,” he said, starting down the tunnel. “There are many things that you should see.”

  Wesley stood.

  Wiping his mouth with one hand, he closed his eyes. “I have seen more than any of my kind could ever dream,” he said, following his clone. “I am dust beneath you, but you honour me with your presence.”

  The tunnel stretched on for what felt like the length of a city block, sloping upward every now and then, only to flow back down. He saw more tubes rising out of the floor, connecting to the ceiling. When he past, he could hear the fluid surging through them.

  Through his bond with the Drethen, he felt the creature following behind him, always hovering at the very edge of sensory range, making it impossible for him to discern its true shape. He had experienced this sensation before. The feeling of being watched had been present in every interaction with one of these telepathic constructs. Apparently, the Old Ones had to be nearby to maintain the illusion. When he looked back, he saw nothing except…sometimes it shimmered like heat rising off black pavement.

  The tunnel curved to the left with an angle that felt like a ninety-degree turn. His double stopped there. “Approach.”

  Wesley did.

  The tunnel wall seemed to pulse with thin veins that sent a dark reddish fluid into the membranous tissue. There was a soft slurping sound. Wesley was amazed that the air didn't stink. In fact, it was as fresh as a cool breeze through an open window.

  A seam appeared in the wall like an incision made by a surgeon's steady hands, the tissue pulling apart to reveal…the Earth. He was looking down on North America from orbit, watching as clouds swirled over the eastern United States and parts of Quebec and Ontario. Wesley nearly panicked. That was no window! He had been exposed to vacuum! His masters intended to punish him after all! He-