by Britt Ringel
“I’m not delusional, Maggie!” Kat snapped. Her voice filled the apartment even as Reynolds ducked her head between her shoulders.
“Kat, please, calm down.” The doctor’s hands had withdrawn close to her body in a protective instinct.
“I’m not lying and I’m not crazy!” Muscles twitched along Kat’s jawline as she gripped the countertop hard enough to turn her knuckles white. “Watch,” she commanded through clenched teeth. She channeled her frustration, using it to spur the bundling of energy inside her head until it felt as if her ears might explode from the building pressure. She pulled harder still and focused on the counter. The next instant, the plate and mug in front of Reynolds disappeared, torn out of the timeline.
Reynolds’ mouth dropped open even as her blue eyes widened. She pushed herself off her stool and backed away from the counter. Slowly, her disbelieving eyes rose from the empty counter to Kat. The young woman standing across from her breathed raggedly, fighting to rein in her anger. Reynolds forced calm into her wavering voice. “Kat, what just happened?”
“Wait.” Kat closed her eyes and winced in pain. The pressure inside her head became too great and popped her ears, seemingly equalizing the forces inside her. By the time she opened her eyes, the missing plate and mug rested on the counter as if nothing had happened. She released a slow, cleansing breath and subconsciously wiped near her right ear. “You just witnessed apportation, Maggie.” Unable to fight the urge, her voice turned bitter. “I guess you’re just as delusional as me.”
Reynolds reached out to the mug but her hand faltered. “It’s not dangerous, is it? Can I touch it?” At Kat’s nod, the doctor cautiously ran a fingertip along the mug’s handle. “Was it invisible? Did you send it someplace, like teleportation?”
Kat cocked her head, her voice steadying now that she’d regained her composure. “I sent it some time, not some place. I can push objects forward in time. Not far, just a few seconds.”
The doctor hesitated as she mulled that over. “I’m still unconscious on the couch.”
Kat snickered. “Can we now agree that psionics is real?” She watched her friend process the question.
“Is that how you rescued me? Did you do that to me last night?” Reynolds asked quietly.
“No. For whatever reason, I can’t seem to do that to the living, only to objects.”
After a long silence, Reynolds seemed to accept the answer. “That wafer said you could appart—”
“Apportate.”
“Apportate objects and that you’re precognitive? You can see the future?”
Kat chewed her lip while shaking her head. “The Pelletier’s Society mislabeled me. They got it backwards. I can’t see the future but I can see the past. I’m actually postcognitive.”
“That’s ironic, isn’t it? You can see the past but can’t remember your own?”
“The visions are tied to the location I’m in and have to be triggered. I’m not sure how.”
Reynolds settled back on her stool at the counter. She stroked her coffee mug absentmindedly but never moved to take a drink. Finally, she eyed Kat with curiosity. “So, you ran away from this Pelletier’s Society?”
Kat dipped a shoulder. “It’s not super clear to me. Most of what I’ve learned about myself came from that woman in red. We called her Lolz because her own subdermal wafer read T-L-O-L.”
“Called. As in past tense?”
Kat deflated immediately. “I killed her last night.” She lowered her eyes, breaking contact with the doctor. “I had to, when Sadler and I rescued you,” she added quietly.
“This Lolz… she was psionic too then, right? She did something to me and that’s why I had the episode at the Beggar’s Market.”
Kat nodded. “Lolz was a telepath who could also send so much stimulus to her link that she could overload her target’s mind.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Reynolds reached out again and took Kat by the hand. “I can tell you didn’t like what you had to do last night, honey, but thank you. Thank you for saving me and I’m sorry you were put into that position.”
Kat squeezed her hand. “She snatched you because of me. I’m just thankful that you’re okay.”
“So, is that it? You ran away and they came looking for you and now it’s over?”
“I don’t know, Maggie.” Kat shrugged. “I doubt it. Because of my postcognition, the Society thinks I know dark secrets about them but if I ever did, I can’t remember them now. I do know that they’re scared of me—and my intuition says it’s for good reason. They were going to murder me the night I escaped. Right before I fled their campus, I ‘scorched’ myself… I used a Society weapon that’s supposed to neuter the abilities of a psi-positive but it also burns out a person’s memories.”
“That explains your amnesia!” Reynolds smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I spent hours in Waytown Hospital’s medical library trying to diagnose you. There just wasn’t an answer that fit.” She picked up her fork but before resuming her breakfast, she asked, “Is this safe to eat?” After a quick nod from Kat, she swallowed another bite of eggs. “Obviously, their scorch-weapon doesn’t work too well.”
Kat shrugged again lightly. “I guess not. I think I used it so a psionic named Tess couldn’t track me through my own powers. I think she can trace psionic power use as easy as a corporation can track a comm call.” She stared at the half-eaten food on her own plate. Her appetite had abandoned her. Her voice grew soft. “I—I actually might’ve had more than one reason to scorch myself.”
Reynolds rested her fork on top of her empty plate. “You… this Lolz woman… Tess? How many are there of you people?”
You people. Kat winced at the words. “I don’t know. It can’t be that many, right? Lolz said I was the first person ever born with my particular powers. She was only the ninth telepath ever.”
“How do you know that?”
Kat’s throat felt impossibly dry at the answer. She swallowed several times to clear the lump growing in it. “We were friends, I’m sure of it. I have faint memories of her... impressions anyway.” She shook her head solemnly. “Lolz wasn’t always crazy and it didn’t happen overnight.”
“What are we going to do, Kat?”
The question hung in the air between them. Both women heard the shower shut off in the bathroom.
“You’re going back safely to the Beggar’s Market,” Kat finally said as she crossed her arms insistently. “You don’t need to be part of this. You’ve already risked too much and I’m not going to jeopardize you again.”
“But I don’t want that. I don’t need that. Please don’t shut me out.”
The statement was so simple, so matter-of-fact that it left no room for argument yet Kat remained resolute. “Maggie, you’re always going to be my friend. You’re my first friend of my new life. You saved me. You made it possible for me to meet Sadler. I’m not going to cut you out of my life but I’m not going to risk yours either.”
“You need help, Kat. Friends help each other.”
“I can take care of myself.” Her shoulders trembled as a shudder passed through her. “I think I was very good at doing that once.”
Reynolds collected their plates and forks before walking around the half wall and into the kitchen. Reaching the sanitizer, she opened the unit and placed the dirty plates inside. It was stuffed to capacity with dishes and glasses haphazardly packed into every available nook and cranny. She inputted commands to start the wash and sterilize sequences while muttering about bachelors. She turned and leaned against the appliance. “To be honest, I’m not sure how I can help but I want you to know that I’m willing. If you need me, just ask.”
Kat took three strides and wrapped the doctor in a firm embrace. “I’m here for you too, Maggie. Like I said, we’re friends and I hope nothing changes that.”
Sadler stepped into the room wearing black, ripstop nylon pants and a Porter Mining t-shirt that was part of his work uniform.
> My God, that’s right. It’s Wednesday and we both should be at the mine today. Mundane life cared nothing for secret agents or psionics. She glanced through the large living room windows. They were tinted but the horizon glowed with the final minutes of predawn. Her work shift would begin within the hour.
Sadler stopped near Kat. His mouth hovered close to hers and she knew he wanted to kiss her. She wanted him to do it. Hesitating, he merely smiled and stroked the side of her face before placing the final food package into the reheater. He then set to work fixing his morning coffee. “If either of you want to shower, do it now. We need to leave in twenty minutes if Kat is going to catch the mag-rail.”
“Is that wise?” Kat asked. “Do you think it’s safe for me to go to work?”
Sadler turned from the coffee machine. “I thought you decided not to run.” The hope in his voice faltered as he regarded her. “Or are you having second thoughts on that as well?” He bit down hard after his statement.
Kat glanced at Reynolds who quickly became interested in the details of the kitchen counter. It’s not that, Sadler. I had a postcognitive vision and watched you screw Tabitha last night after we made love. I couldn’t even close my eyes to it because they were already closed. I can’t unsee it. I can’t stop seeing it. I can’t stop thinking about it in every quiet moment. I’m sorry but I’m jealous. I hate myself for it and it’s driving me mad. Kat’s eyes searched Sadler’s for the courage she couldn’t muster. Say it, Kat. Say those words. Open up to him. “Nothing’s changed.”
Sadler’s expression brightened. “Then, I can talk to Mr. Porter about exchanging the bonus he promised you for sponsoring your citizenship?”
Kat felt Reynolds’ hand on her back, rubbing gently. “That would be wonderful for you,” she whispered.
Kat nodded with a growing enthusiasm. “Yeah, let’s see if he’s willing to do that. I know sponsorship won’t come cheap but I’d pay him back the difference in installments. After all, I helped save his company from a hostile takeover.”
“Not to mention you saved the lives of Deke and Reece after the cave-in.”
Kat shuddered at the mention of the collapse, an intentional act of sabotage that nearly cost her and her mining team’s lives. Only her escape with the help of apportation had saved half of them. “Let’s try for it.” Her voice grew confident and she reached to place her hands on Sadler’s broad shoulders. “And if the Pelletier’s Society does send more agents after me, we’ll figure out a way through that too.”
Chapter 3
Dust devils swirled as Sadler’s aircar descended to less than a meter from the baked earth that served as a parking lot across from the mag-rail station. The whine from the vehicle’s turbines softened only somewhat as it hovered and the cacophony forced Kat to raise her voice when the gull-wing door opened.
“Thanks for the ride, Sadler.” She leaned across the center console and gave him a quick peck. She didn’t dare do more. After missing work yesterday, she could hardly risk being late this morning. She reluctantly pulled away from him and reached to the floor to grab her black satchel.
Sadler’s hand moved over hers and he looked at the large bag with concern. “Are you sure you want to take that to work?”
Inside were the meager possessions she had accumulated over the past weeks… and two very illegal Jamison Flechette Series D handguns. She’d taken them from the corpses of her would-be assassins, the agents that had killed her friend, Rat, less than forty-eight hours ago. The image of his twisted, curled hand churned Kat’s stomach. Was that really only Monday night? I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the last two days. Her hand clutched the bag. “Not really but I wasn’t going to leave the guns at your place. If corp-sec found these, they’d do a lot worse than throw you in jail.” She lifted the large satchel to her lap. “I’ll stuff it into my locker at the mine.”
Sadler grudgingly relented. “Well, be careful with them.” He gave her his boyish smile. “I’ll see you there after I sneak Maggie back to the Beggar’s Market.” His hand squeezed hers and lingered, unwilling to let her go. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
She rolled her brown eyes at him and smiled, adding a wink for good measure. “I think I can handle taking the train to work by myself. I promise not to talk to strangers and I’ll even hold the conductor’s hand the whole trip.” She hopped from her seat to the dusty ground. The sun seemed barely over the cloudless horizon but was already cooking the parched earth with its rays.
“Just don’t kiss him!” Sadler retorted as the aircar’s door closed into place.
Kat backed away. The vehicle’s turbines spooled up gently and the aircar drifted upward, its pilot doing his best to minimize the down blast of the powerful thrust. She hoisted the satchel strap over her shoulder and walked toward the end of the long line of dayshift miners queuing for the mag-rail. As she passed the other workers, she inspected each face, looking for Reece. She suspected he would still be in the hospital, recovering from the cave-in, and was unsurprised by his absence in the line.
Gradually, the miners filtered into the passenger cars. Kat swept her wristwrap over the terminal at the front of the line, grateful that she had resisted having the usual chip embedded into her wrist in favor of carrying one in the simple, removable wrap. A short series of bright musical notes chimed from the terminal, announcing not only her access to the train but also an update to her credit balance. The distinctive chime earned Kat odd looks from nearby miners. Typically, management paid wages each Friday, not Wednesday.
Kat ignored both the terminal and her fellow workers and ducked quickly into a passenger car. Once she found an empty seat, she placed her bag securely between her feet and risked a glance at the small readout on the wristwrap. She felt her jaw drop. The display read 2,007. She covered her mouth to hide its rapturous grin. Two thousand credits! I’m rich!
Porter Mining’s CEO, Phillip Porter, had promised her a bonus for unraveling the mystery of the recent spate of accidents at the mine but Kat had been thinking the reward would be tens or possibly hundreds of credits. She fought the impulse to exit the train and run to the Beggar’s Market. Oh, the luxuries she could buy!
Relax, Kat. This money certainly helps but you’re not rich. This is, what? Six weeks’ wages as a dryman, cleaning up after coal miners? Receptionists make two thousand credits in only a couple of weeks. Foremen and managers, certainly quicker than that. Besides, if Porter will sponsor you for citizenship, you’ll have to return this money. The fact is that you still have only seven credits to your name.
The paltry true total promised a brutally ravenous week. Other than the illegal handguns, she had nothing of value, nothing she could hock at the Beggar’s Market for food, assuming she could even smuggle such an item into the bazaar in the first place. She dismissed the thought easily. Selling her guns would be madness considering what might be coming for her. Even as the train began to push forward, Kat ignored the scenery flashing by her window for introspection. By the time the train’s brakes screeched in the foothills of the mountains to Waytown’s east, she was no closer to a solution to her predicament.
She stepped off the train and trudged toward the miner’s courtyard, a collection of beaten picnic tables that served as the break and lunch area for the throng of miners. The sounds and smells of the mine assaulted her senses. Foul exhaust and the stench of oil and sludge shifted her breathing from nose to mouth. The unending growls from enormous vehicles left Kat’s ears ringing. She passed through a herd of nightshift workers, their heads bowed as they shambled toward the mag-rail.
Focusing on the ground a meter in front of her, she weaved through the courtyard tables and entered the small trailer of lockers that held her own. Immediately the customary slamming of metal and morning banter stopped. The eerie silence brought Kat to a quick halt. She raised her head to find every miner in the trailer smiling at her. Many began to clap while those nearest her slapped her on the back. Others reached out to shake her ha
nd.
The jubilant reception was completely unexpected. Before the mine shaft’s collapse, she had been something of a pariah. This morning it was clear that her status had been elevated to accepted coworker, if not downright hero. Kat’s initial shock faded quickly and she found the smiles contagious. Her perfect white teeth flashed brilliantly as she took in the accolades. Once the fanfare subsided, she opened her locker, removed her broken miner’s helmet from the hook at the back and replaced it with her satchel. A handwritten note rested on the small, top shelf.
Kat Smith—she still hated how fake her hastily improvised alias sounded—please report to the Human Resources trailer when you receive this note.
Her stomach twisted slightly, a reaction to the last time she had been called to HR and discovered her real name by chance. She stared at the note and tried not to hyperventilate. Calm down, Kat. Porter promised you a promotion from your dryman position. This isn’t about your DNA background check. This is a good thing. She returned the cracked helmet to the hook, covering the satchel’s strap, and slammed her locker closed. She tested the lever to ensure it was truly secure before moving toward the exit.
The Human Resources trailer was the largest at the mine. It held not only the HR office but the offices for all the highest levels of on-site management. Kat walked over the blackened, trampled earth and peered at the bulky structure. Calling it a mobile trailer was a misnomer, as the main building rested on a block foundation and was attached to several ancillary structures including an air conditioning unit the size of an aircar. A second trailer appeared to have been welded to the main unit, increasing its footprint further.
Kat opened the door and felt an immediate reprieve from the morning’s heat. The receptionist looked up from her deskwork and shot the new arrival a look of pure relief.
“Oh, thank heavens! You’ve made it to work today!” The woman quickly rose from her chair and turned toward the hallway leading deeper into the office. “She’s here!” she called excitedly.
