by R S Penney
But they were supposed to be personal weapons, not the sort of ordinance that one would use to arm a starship. But intelligence could be wrong. If they used explosives to destroy the contents of this room, and if some of those contents just happened to be high-yield warheads, they could vaporize half the ship. Hundreds of deaths on her conscience. Keepers were sent on missions like this to preserve life; the lives of enemy combatants were no less valuable than those of her own people.
Besides, she was hoping there was some clue that would lead them to Isara.
Anna lifted the lid of one crate to find not guns, not bombs, but carrots. Hundreds of fresh carrots that filled the container to the brim, each one plump and ripe. The next crate over contained lettuce.
“What in Bleakness…”
A little ways up the aisle between two sets of crates, Melissa was leaning over to peer into one of the containers. “Sweet corn,” she said. “And there's farming equipment along the back wall.”
Anna backed away from one crate with her arms folded, shaking her head. “This is not a weapon's supply,” she muttered. “It's a food shipment! We boarded this ship, beat up their guards and risked an act of war to destroy a food shipment!”
“Maybe the weapons are elsewhere?” Melissa offered.
“Or maybe they're planning to go to war against an army of bad comedians!” Anna snapped. Mocking your subordinates was not exactly admirable behaviour in a leader, but she was pissed. “Regardless, we came here for nothing!”
“Precisely!”
The rich, deep voice that echoed through the room had a slight drawl to it, and the way it snapped like a whip made Anna jump. With so many crates between her and the door, she wasn't able to perceive the newcomer with spatial awareness, but she heard his footsteps. She reached for her pistol.
Except her holster was empty! She had thrown her pistol away to snatch up one of the assault rifles, and then she had thrown that away without a second thought. Damn her impulsiveness! It was going to get her killed one day.
A man in a dark blue uniform rounded a set of crates and stepped into the aisle with her and Melissa. He was tall and handsome for an older man, barrel-chested but muscular just the same. His dark complexion was contrasted by a neatly-trimmed silver beard that stretched from ear to ear. “Good morning,” he said.
The man shrugged his shoulders and sauntered toward them with his hands clasped behind his back. “Of course, it's morning for me,” he said. “It might be the middle of the night for you. Human measurements of time have no meaning in space.”
“Who are you?”
Pressing his lips together, the man turned his face up to the ceiling and blinked. “I do wonder,” he said. “Have you ever considered the implications of it? The philosophical quandary that arises from a relativistic universe?”
Anna stood before him with fists on her hips, head bowed as she tried to collect her thoughts. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “This is exactly what I was looking for. Nothing else compliments a gunfight quite like a deconstruction of absolutist morality.”
“It does make one wonder though,” the man said. “If there were a god – or gods – would they not make a universe of absolutes?”
A few steps behind Anna, the silhouette of Melissa stood with hands folded over thighs, watching the man with a serene expression. “Maybe that's the point,” she offered. “Maybe God wants us to find meaning on our own rather than providing it for us.”
The man closed his eyes and turned his head so that Anna saw him in profile. “You may be right, my dear,” he said. “Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Colonel Tad Sorelu, and this is my ship.”
“You let us in here.”
“I did.”
Anna flinched when she realized the implications; there was really only one reason for all this. “Because you wanted us to find the vegetables, the farming equipment,” she said. “There never were any weapons.”
“Got it in one, my dear.”
Craning her neck to stare up at him, Anna narrowed her eyes. “The intelligence we received,” she said in a rasping voice. “The reports of an arms race here on the Fringe? It was all made up.”
Colonel Tad Sorelu let his head hang and then scraped a knuckle across his brow. “I can't speak to that,” he admitted. “But it would appear so. Several of our cargo ships have been attacked by people who have displayed abilities similar to your own.”
Anna slipped her hands into her pockets and turned away from him, pacing through the aisle with her head down. How much should she reveal? These situations called for a certain amount of discretion, but Anna was never the sort of girl who went in for all that cloak and dagger crap. Straight up and to the point: that was her way. “We've encountered people like that,” she said. “Grecken Slade and those who work for him have developed a kind of corrupted Nassai that grants anyone access to the powers of a Justice Keeper with none of the restrictions a normal Nassai would impose.”
“And you failed to share this information with us?”
“Until recently, secrecy was necessary.”
The man just nodded as if he accepted that without question. Who knows? Maybe he did; military officers put more faith in the chain of command than Keepers did, and it wasn't as if Leyria and Antaur were the best of friends. Sharing secrets was something you did with your allies.
Anna stopped in her tracks, then turned and looked over her shoulder, a thin lock of white hair falling over one eye. “Something I don't understand,” she said. “Why are you so willing to trust us?”
The colonel smiled down at himself, trembling as he chuckled softly. “Unlike some of my people,” he began, “I do not distrust Justice Keepers. I know what you stand for. I saw how you conducted yourselves on this mission.”
He looked up to fix a steely gaze upon her and then nodded his approval. “You all went to great lengths to avoid the use of lethal force,” he went on. “My security officers are still alive because of you.”
“Keepers revere life.”
“I know.” The man let out a soft sigh, leaning his shoulder against one of the crates. “If only your telepath friend were as magnanimous.”
Instantly, Anna felt her stomach tie itself in knots. She knew leaving Keli alone with those other telepaths was a bad idea. The woman couldn't be trusted! Anna wouldn't have brought her along for this mission except that Keli had insisted that they would come up against rival telepaths, and Larani had made it clear that leaving her behind was simply not an option. “What did she do?”
“She killed two of our telepaths,” Sorelu answered.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” the colonel said a little too quickly. “They weren't members of my crew. To be honest, Carissa often acted as if the ship existed to serve her every whim, and she was far too willing to treat my people as expendable.
“That is the way with telepaths, my dear; they aren't like you. They didn't earn their power through training, discipline and strength of character the way you did; every single telepath was born with his fantastic abilities. It makes many of them arrogant.”
That was a little more prejudiced than Anna would have liked; Raynar hadn't been like that, and she was willing to bet that the arrogance Sorelu saw in telepaths had little if anything to do with their ability to read minds; rather, the culprit was a culture that prized “genetic superiority” – whatever that meant – and treated telepaths as some kind of super-species. The whole idea was repellent to her, but she wasn't willing to say as much when whatever ceasefire they currently enjoyed might fall apart with one ill-timed comment. She was impulsive, not stupid.
“Now, you could get back in your pod,” Sorelu said. The man was smiling down at his own feet. “I'll order my people to avoid shooting it down, but I would imagine you'd rather go home by SlipGate.”
“You'd let us do that?”
“I'll do you one better,” the Colonel replied. “I'm willing to let you search the ship, every cargo hold,
every storage locker. I'm sure you'll find that there are no weapons here beyond those that would be considered standard compliment for a war ship of this size.”
Anna froze, considering the man's offer. Was it really that simple? Search the ship, confirm that there were no weapons and be on their merry way? If this was a trap, then it was a needlessly elaborate one. Sorelu could just flood this room with more of his security officers; even Keepers would be overwhelmed at some point. “Why?” she asked.
“Isn't it obvious?” Sorelu replied. “People posing as Justice Keepers are attacking Antauran ships; you're getting reports about non-existent weapons smugglers out here on the Fringe, reports that implicate my people. Someone wants us to fight with one another, and I, for one, would like to know why.”
Chapter 1
Fat snowflakes fluttered about on the other side of the window, some pressing up against the glass and melting in seconds. It was hard to see much else on this overcast afternoon – Jack could just make out another apartment building across the way – when the storm and the darkening sky cut off visibility.
His mother's kitchen was simple but homey; dark wooden cupboards encircled a linoleum tile floor, all lit by a single large bulb in the ceiling. The square-shaped table in the corner offered just enough room for two people.
Jack wore jeans and a thick gray sweater as he sat in one chair with his head down. “So, then I pull off the hood,” he said with a shrug. “And she looks just like Jena. But she isn't Jena.”
His mother was leaning against the stove with arms folded, frowning as she nodded along with the story. “Must have been hard,” she murmured. “You never said much about Jena, but I knew she had your respect.”
In fuzzy pajama pants and an over-sized sweater of her own, Crystal looked as if she were ready to hibernate for the rest of one very long Canadian winter. Blonde hair fell in waves around a face with a few noticeable lines, but she was still her vibrant self. Hell, she looked better than she had the last time he had seen her. That had been just over five months ago, on the day when he had departed for Leyria. It seemed the single life agreed with Crystal. “My little boy,” she said. “Assistant to the head of the Justice Keepers.”
Jack felt his face burn. Hunching over, he pressed a palm to his forehead. “That's my mom for you,” he teased. “Big with the careerism. You do know that it's really not a big deal, right?”
“I'm only trying to be supportive.”
He felt his lips curl into a smile, then shook his head slowly. “Your gently-worded reprimand has been duly noted,” Jack replied. “Rest assured that I will respond with the appropriate amount of guilt and a renewed appreciation for your firm but loving style of parenting.”
“That's all I ask.”
Outside, the wind was howling, pelting the window with snowflakes. Back home – had he really just thought of Leyria as home? – it was the height of summer, but January in Winnipeg was a season of hot chocolate, warm fires and unsafe driving conditions. He had been so eager to see his family when Larani informed him that she would be visiting Earth for two weeks that he had practically hopped on board a transport without so much as packing a suitcase. Well…he had done that much. But in typical Jack Hunter fashion, he had stuffed the thing with clothes meant for summer weather. Trying to buy a sweater and a coat with a credit card that was no longer active was…not fun.
He'd given some thought to asking Melissa if she wanted to come back with him for a few weeks – it would do the girl some good to see her mother – but she had gone on a mission with Anna, and that was…Well, he wasn't getting in the middle of that.
Crystal turned her head to look out the window, a solemn expression on her face. “It's a shame you couldn't be here for Christmas,” she said softly. “It just wasn't the same without you.”
Biting his lower lip, Jack closed his eyes. “I hear you,” he said with a curt nod. “But I think I've had enough Christmas to last me for several years. I'm still reeling from Dad's big speech at the dinner table.”
He got out of his chair, slipping hands into his back pockets and making his way to the window. “I'm just here for a couple weeks,” he said. “Larani wanted me to interview a few people that she thought might have been involved with Slade.”
“And were they?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Of course, that particular investigation – the one that had consumed most of his time over the last six months – seemed to go one way. Jack would go after someone only to find that they were clean as a whistle. Or maybe something in their record would look shady, but it would be impossible to prove anything beyond what seemed to be an unfortunate coincidence.
With the exception of Cara Sinthel, he had caught exactly no one, and there were still traitors among the Keepers. Jensen Noralis had released Cara from her cell only to get trapped there himself when Harry overpowered him.
He didn't have to look at his mom to sense her standing by the stove, drumming fingers on her thigh while she studied the floor tiles. “So, are we gonna talk about what you want to talk about.”
“Ah, the standard momly advice chat,” Jack said. “You know, I think I've come to prefer having them over vid-com. Less chance that you'll swat me.”
“What's going on between you and Anna?”
Jack crossed his arms with a heavy sigh, hanging his head as the frustration set in. “What makes you think something is going on with us?” Good; his voice was steady. “I think she's doing just fine.”
His mother slouched against the stove and looked up to blink at the light bulb in the ceiling. “Well, there's the fact that you think she's doing just fine,” she answered. “For the last four years, you've known everything about that girl.”
“She doesn't tell me everything.”
“Answer my question.”
Why did parents always do this? Well…Not parents. Just his mother. His father, on the other hand, wouldn't notice if Jack started crying his eyes out right there in front of him, and if Arthur did notice, it would only result in a lecture about being a man. “Mom, I would rather not talk about it.”
“I'd rather live in the Bahamas.”
“You could live in the Bahamas.”
“Not on my salary.”
He spun to face his mother, marching toward her with his arms folded, unable to look up and meet her gaze. “Come to Leyria,” Jack offered. “We can set you up on some tropical island for the rest of your life.”
“I can't just up and leave.”
“Why not?” Jack shot back. “Not to go all reverse George Bailey on you, but you really aren't needed here. Lauren's happy; Dad seems to be doing quite well on his own. Why not just be selfish for a change?”
His mother looked up at him with sympathetic brown eyes, blinking a few times. “Over fifty years of patriarchy telling me I should put my family's needs first,” she said. “And besides, your reference was off. That was technically a reverse Clarence. Accuracy is everything.”
“You're out referencing me?”
“Are you gonna tell me about Anna?”
“Nothing to tell,” Jack said, turning away and pacing through the kitchen. All of a sudden, he was practically buzzing with nervous energy. “We fell in love, but she had a boyfriend. So, she called it quits with both of us, and now she's not speaking to me.”
He could see Crystal standing there in his mind's eye, her face pained as she took in the information. “That's rough,” she said. “Just give it time, Jack; that girl loves you with all her heart.”
Summer agreed.
Jack shut his eyes and felt one tear sliding over his cheek. “Yeah,” he said, nodding his agreement. “You're not the first person to say as much. But I can't let myself hope for something that's never gonna happen.”
“Sweetie…”
“Nah, Mom,” he said. “Just let this one be.”
Tanaben Loranai was all right.
Not great, not spectacular, not one hundred percent satisfied with his life, b
ut all right. And that was all he needed to be for the moment. Despite all odds, he'd found a gig with a small group of people who developed multi-tool apps. Not that it really mattered in terms of material need. This wasn't Earth; he would always have a roof over his head and food in his belly no matter what he did.
A fulfilling life, however, required a certain amount of challenge. The human brain was not meant for idleness. He could always work on his own projects, of course – give them to the Collaborative Commons, and see if anyone was interested in whatever he came up with – but that was a massive undertaking. He preferred to work with people.
But who would work with a convicted criminal?
Apparently, a small group of individuals who designed new protocols for nanobot fabrication was perfectly willing to bring him on board. Maybe it was because Ben had rigged his old multi-tool to fabricate things that went well beyond the design specs.
Sunlight through large rectangular windows illuminated the common room of this small office they shared, a room of sea-foam green walls, where computer consoles were arrayed in a ring. They didn't need much floor space – just a kitchen, a lounge and a place to work – but it would do.
A segment of Ben's desk was tilted upward and raised to eye level, and white text scrolled along the sheet of SmartGlass. He reviewed the code for what seemed like the hundredth time, searching for a bug.
Ben sat forward with one elbow on his knee, covering his mouth with three fingers. “Where are you?” he asked, eyes flicking back and forth. “Come on…I know that you're in there somewhere.”
Something caught his eye.
He wheeled his chair back from the desk and thrust his hand out, pointing at the screen. “Right there!” he exclaimed. “In the secondary networking function. If you leave the code like that, hackers will be able to disable a tool's fabrication module, and the only way to fix it would be a complete firmware refresh.”
