“I can’t put her on until next week. My shows are already planned.”
“Next week is acceptable,” Julie says. “There’s an impending doom approaching. The Templars can help, but they need me and my resources to do it.”
“Take it down a notch, your majesty,” Claire says. “You aren’t the Messiah.”
Julie stares Claire down. “You have a lot of acid. Be careful who you fling it at. I know a lot about you, too. I know about the people you care about, Sergeant Tanner, Mr. Richter, or should that order be reversed now?”
Shock flashes across Claire’s face, and Larry seems to notice.
“Is that a threat?” Claire demands.
“Now who needs to take it down a notch?” Julie challenges.
“Both of you!” Larry booms.
“I’ve changed my mind, Boss. We don’t need her.”
“Good thing you aren’t in charge then. She goes on your show next Wednesday.”
“Thank you,” Julie says to Larry. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Feel free to fire anyone you bribed getting in here.”
Julie smiles and, with a final glare at Claire, exits the office.
“Thanks for having my back, Boss,” Claire says and turns to leave.
“Wait a second, Claire.”
“Shit,” Claire says as she stops.
“I know regret well, Kid, and I see it in your eyes. I’m not gonna pry, but I’ll offer this one piece of advice. Fire your bodyguard. I think you already have Templar protection, and he’s too much temptation for a busy woman on the top.”
“I know,” Claire whispers and slowly leaves Larry.
Votary stands over the crumpled forms of Nijigen, Stitch, Port, Shot Caller, Seal Pup, Compel, and several drones. The newest batch of recruits sit slack jawed in their workout attire.
“That was bloody amazing,” Patrick marvels.
“Do we really want to get any armor?” Zoe adds.
“I can take him,” Curtis says.
All the downed Templars laugh at Curtis. He looks annoyed by how vocally they make their objection to his claim.
“There’s always one joker in the group.” Seal Pup pants as he stands. “Now tell me what you saw.”
“I saw you guys get your asses kicked and just fold,” Curtis says with crossed arms. “He can hit me as hard as he wants. I won’t go down.”
“Okay, that’s one opinion,” Seal Pup says. “Any others?”
“I saw everyone try to beat him with martial arts. Why didn’t you use your powers?” Zoe asks.
“Thank you. I was hoping someone would ask that. Votary, if you would be so kind?”
Votary stands in the center of the training mat. The other Templars and recruits surround him at the positions of clock numbers with a solid ten meters of separation from Votary.
“Same rules as always,” Seal Pup explains. “If you can hit Votary with your augmentation, you get the week off from training or the month off from patrol. Whichever is more appropriate.”
“Easy peasy,” Zoe announces and charges Votary.
She throws kicks and punches at amazing speeds. Votary gently blocks them. Within thirty seconds she’s panting and sitting on the floor.
“What’s the matter? Getting tired?” Seal Pup taunts.
“What the hell?” She gasps as she rolls out of the way of Curtis’ charge.
Curtis wraps his arms around Votary’s waist, but the Templar sprawls his legs out and forces Curtis’ face into the mat. The large man grunts as he hits the ground and struggles in vain to free his arm that Votary has pinned behind his back.
“Maybe help your friend?” Seal Pup says to Patrick.
“Are you sure?” Patrick asks.
It’s clear that he’s concerned about seriously hurting a teammate.
“Trust me,” Seal Pup responds with a chuckle.
The geriatric shrugs, reaches out both hands hesitantly, and points them at Votary, but nothing happens.
“I can’t feel anything,” Patrick says.
“None of us can,” Seal Pup says. “Okay, let him up.”
Votary releases Curtis and walks away without any words.
“The reason we have this demonstration is to drop any lingering arrogance you may bring based on your perceived power. Votary will negate it. Since the Malignant have showed up and seeded the planet, he can push out a sort of power-free bubble to a short distance of his choosing. It may not go that far, but you need to know that if Votary is fighting with you, you may have to give him some room. If you ever get foolish enough to ignore his commands in the field, remember that he can easily put you on your ass. Understood?”
Curtis rubs his arm and looks sheepish. “I understand.”
“Good,” Seal Pup says. “Run through your warm-ups, and I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
The recruits begin stretching in the middle of the white training mats.
Karen takes off her helmet and motions for Seal Pup to follow her.
“What’s up?” Smith asks as he takes his own helmet off.
“We need to face the music,” she says. “Grab Votary before she leaves.”
“Sure,” Smith says. “Votary, a moment please?”
Votary walks back over. “What, Seal Pup?”
Karen waves over Abel, and he joins the circle.
Karen looks at Abel. “I’m sorry about what I did with introducing you to everyone with Claire present the other night.”
Votary explodes. “You did what?”
The recruits stop training and look at the fight that’s developing. A stern look from Smith ends their apparent fascination.
“Calm down,” Smith begs.
Votary huffs and puffs as he throws his arms up.
“Peace, Votary,” Abel warns.
This appears to mildly placate Votary.
“Father, why would you let her see you?”
“I wasn’t aware that Claire would be there,” Abel answers. “Once I saw her, it was too late to go.”
“Did you two know?” Votary asks.
Karen and Smith both nod.
“I didn’t think of it at the time, but I should have,” Karen admits.
“It’s not Sister’s fault. Life just happens.”
“Father, you have to take this seriously. Claire Kennedy is a journalist.”
“Which means she’ll protect me as a source,” Abel counters.
“I hope so,” Votary mutters.
He looks at Karen and Smith.
“The three of us are going to have more words on this later,” he threatens and storms off.
“All things considered, that wasn’t too bad,” Smith says.
“Thanks, Brother, for calming him down.”
“I didn’t,” Abel admits. “Votary is quite upset. She just doesn’t like to let me see it, but you’ll have to deal with a tazdeve when he talks to you later.”
“What’s a tazdeve?” Smith asks.
“Sorry,” Abel says as he comically slaps his forehead. “That’s a Coelum species. It’s a vicious, small animal about three feet tall that can take down animals as large as one of your elephants. Baiame used to keep one as a pet, much to the chagrin of my mother.”
“Thanks for the graphic comparison. In the future, just say he has a bad temper. We know that already,” Smith says.
“I’ll try to remember,” Abel agrees.
“I have to get back to the recruits,” Smith announces.
“Let Votary train them today. I need the pair of you to go recruiting,” Abel instructs.
“Who?” Karen asks.
“The augment that Bill told us about after that stunning game.”
“You mean Power?” Smith asks.
“Yes. Appropriate
name, don’t you think?”
“Not really. Did Sahil find him for us?” Smith asks.
“He did,” Abel answers. “I assumed that police officers would be better for this one. It sounds like he’ll be useful against the Malignant.”
“We’ll get right on it, Brother,” Karen says.
“Allow me,” Abel says, and he conjures a portal.
The two Templars lock their helmets into place and step through.
They find themselves in a motel room. Someone is obviously using the bathroom. Seal Pup looks at Compel’s back while they wait. She has her flail hanging from her right shoulder. The weapon’s metal worms have dug scratches into her armor from swaying around during normal movement.
“You armor is scratched again,” Seal Pup says through the internal communicator linking their helmets.
“What else is new? I’d change out, but it’d hurt Abel’s feelings.”
“We can’t do that to big brother,” Seal Pup jokes.
They hear the toilet flush and a man struggle momentarily. The struggle ends, and the nearly inaudible whirl of motors is heard instead. The door opens, and Power walks out.
He’s clearly learned how to use his augmentation to its fullest. From waist down, he has robot legs, but his upper half is bare chested and human. He pulls on extra-large sweatpants to hide his legs and looks up to find Seal Pup and Compel standing there. He immediately stops fiddling with his pants and transforms his entire body into a heavily armed robot, with missile and rocket pods exposed. Before he can do anything else, Compel speaks.
“Don’t do anything. Just listen to us.”
Power relaxes his threatening posture.
“Sure. Mind telling me what you’re doing in my crib?”
“We’re here to ask if you want a new job,” Seal Pup answers.
“I’ll pass,” Power answers. His voice echoes off the metallic walls of his augmented throat. “I’ve been on the receiving end of your kind of justice too many times.”
“Maybe don’t sell drugs,” Compel snaps back.
“I don’t!” Power counters. “I did, but not anymore. I’m out of the game.”
“You know about the Malignant, right?” Seal Pup asks.
“The who?”
“The aliens,” Seal Pup clarifies.
“What’s that got to do with me? The aliens bounced.”
“They’ll come back to kill us soon. Our only chance is to form a team that can actually stop them. You can help us. We need you,” Seal Pup implores.
“You should have thought of that before dropping buildings on me and messing up my life. Please leave.”
“This is stupid,” Compel announces. “You’ll come with us, and you will like it.”
“On second thought, I might as well check y’all out,” Power agrees.
“Through the portal please,” Compel says.
Power eagerly passes through it.
“How long will that work?” Seal Pup asks.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. Whenever he changes his mind, I’ll just give him another dose.”
“Abel’s not going to like you taking his free will.”
“Abel will understand. Besides, he adores his little sister.”
Compel and Seal Pup follow Power through the portal.
Mr. Polite stares across an elegantly set dinner table to his companion from the movie theater. The woman seems timidly fascinated by the high-class establishment and listens to a man crooning the classics with a pianist accompanying him.
“You look lovely tonight, Miss Walton. Do you like Italian food?”
“For the last time, please call me Melanie.” She sighs while she stares at the pristine table. “And yes, I do like it.”
“Good. This restaurant is exceptionally difficult to get a seat, but I pulled some strings to make sure they could accommodate us.”
“Well, thank you very much.”
“Tell me more about yourself.”
Melanie’s eyes dart back and forth. She smiles, but her focus is clearly on the establishment’s doors and windows.
“What’s left to tell?” she asks.
Mr. Polite takes a sip of wine. “How long have you known about your augmentation?”
“A few months I guess. I was embarrassed by a co-worker and pictured her relieving herself on the spot. It was quite surprising when she actually did.”
“I detest the rude. She had it coming.”
Melanie’s eyes soften. She looks ashamed.
“She killed herself a few weeks later after all the torment she got from the office.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“I felt terrible. I didn’t want her dead. I just wanted her to feel like I did.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for trying to show someone that we need to treat each other with respect.”
“As much as I enjoy your company, I was thinking that maybe I should travel to Colberton. I could try to meet the Templars who spend so much time there.”
Mr. Polite isn’t fully convinced she means that. It sounds like a ploy to separate from his company. He must show her that even half-truths are impolite.
“Don’t do that, Melanie. It’s rude to enter someone’s home unannounced. That’s exactly what they do when they impose their will in other countries. If they want to run America, so be it, but they shouldn’t come up here or anywhere else.”
Melanie stares at her plate. Occasionally, she wipes her eyes with the corner of her cloth napkin.
She sighs before speaking again. “Interesting point. So, you’ve never been tempted to alert them to your presence?”
She looks back up. Mr. Polite isn’t sure what exactly he sees in her eyes.
“No. In fact, I make sure that they stay away from me.”
Melanie perks up. True curiosity seems to fill her voice.
“How do you do that?” Melanie inquires.
“I put up one of my force shields around any building I enter. It seems to work.”
“Or maybe they just don’t know about you.”
“There’s always that.”
“Impressive that you can make shields that large. Do you know why?”
Mr. Polite adjusts the ring on his right hand.
“I’m not certain,” he says. “I’m actually more impressed with how small I can make them.”
“How small is that?”
“Observe.”
Mr. Polite points at some capers on her plate. One by one they flatten in front of Melanie.
“Amazing.”
“What about your power?”
“I can’t cover this whole room.”
“Not what I meant. I was asking if you can do more than just make people soil themselves?”
“I think so. I practiced a little on strays near my apartment. I had to hold them the entire time, but they did die. I’m not sure if I was able to advance cancer, which is what I envisioned, or if I did something else. I’m not certain it’ll work on people. I don’t think I want to know. It made me sick even doing it to animals.”
“You’re so caring. I find that very attractive.”
Melanie’s eyes flash. She takes a sip of her wine.
A few tables over, a couple escalates a tense conversation into a shouting match. Mr. Polite, Melanie, and the rest of the diners all turn to look at the commotion.
“I’m sick of you wasting all my money. I didn’t give you permission to buy a new car!” the husband screams.
The woman tries to cover her face, but her tears are easily visible for all to see.
“I needed it. The transmission on the old van was done. It was cheaper to buy something else.”
“Don’t give me that line! You just wanted something and spent my money. Y
ou didn’t earn any of it!”
A manager approaches the man to calm him down, but he throws a plate full of lasagna at him. The manager hurries to a phone by the hostess.
“I raise your children!” the woman screams back between rounds of sobbing.
“Anyone can do that!” her husband fires back.
Mr. Polite removes his napkin from his lap and approaches the man. Melanie raises a hand as if to say something, then closes her mouth and pulls back her arm.
“That’ll be quite enough, sir. Please go home and sleep it off while I attend to your wife.”
“While you attend to her?” the man screams. “Is this the bastard you spread your legs for?”
“Stop it!” she shouts. “I’m faithful.”
“The hell you are,” he says to her before turning his attention back to Mr. Polite. “You want her, you can have her.”
“Gerald, no!” she shouts.
The man takes one aggressive step toward Mr. Polite and suddenly grips his chest. Mr. Polite doesn’t react. The man grimaces as his face turns red.
“Someone call an ambulance!” a waiter shouts.
The husband falls to his knees in front of Mr. Polite and gasps painful breaths. “Help me!”
His wife screams as she rushes to his side. Blood stains his pristine white shirt. The man gasps a few more times and collapses. A check of the pulse and a scream from his wife seem to confirm he’s dead. Mr. Polite escorts Melanie out of the restaurant.
“I’m a doctor,” a patron shouts and rushes to help.
He kneels next to the husband and pulls his shirt away. He gasps. Despite the blood-soaked shirt, the man’s chest is clear of any blood that could obscure the message carved into the man’s chest by an unseen force. It reads, Rude to his wife, Mr. Polite.
Benji sits at a table in the Colberton Police Department lunch room with Detective Reid. The two men have soup and sandwiches from a nearby restaurant.
“Tell your wife I said thanks for bringing these,” Benji says through a mouthful of corned beef.
“Will do,” Reid answers.
“She’s a good woman,” Benji adds.
Reid looks up at Benji. “Should I be worried?”
Benji can’t hold back his smile. “Don’t tell anyone else, but I finally picked up a ring last night after work.”
Sleepers and Scouts Page 18
