Rebecca leaned back and smoked, watching the irregularly blinking lights on the side of the power plant spell out their cryptic message, for whatever unknown purpose. It was not, after all, as if there were air traffic to be warded off.
Katya sat down beside her with a thud and a sigh, and handed her a clear plastic cup.
“From Miss Gallow,” she explained, holding out her hand. “Can I borrow that for a second?”
“What?” Rebecca said, surprised and feigning ignorance. “My cigarette, you mean? Smoking is bad for you.”
“Not if your bloodstream is filled with nanites. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how resistant to empathic manipulation I am, Miss Levy.” Katya grinned mischievously. “I think you could probably fool me under normal circumstances, but I’m guessing you are stretched thin at the moment, keeping everybody happy and in line. It does look more or less like a cigarette, but it sure doesn’t smell that way...”
Rebecca sighed and handed the joint over.
“Fine. Just don’t tell. Stupid Black Sun psy-war training. And call me Rebecca, for God’s sake.”
“Whatever you say,” Katya agreed, puffing away. “Little chilly tonight, huh? Wish they’d get that fire going already.”
“Neither Vivik or Michael was a boy scout, so it might be a while.” Rebecca glanced at the assassin’s face as she passed the joint back. “Hey, what’s your problem, Katya? You look pissed.”
“What? No. Not really. Just a little rattled. It’s been a complicated evening, Miss Levy.” Katya sipped from her red plastic cup and stared out at the barely visible grey plain where the ocean should have been. “Nothing’s ever easy where Alex Warner is concerned. But I don’t have to tell you that.”
“Is this about you kids sneaking off? Because I told you I would let that slide as long as nothing like that happens again during our visit...”
“No,” Katya said, shaking her head when Rebecca reluctantly offered to pass the joint back. “I’m not worried about getting in trouble, Miss Levy. I’ve been in trouble as long as I can remember. It’s just...that girl. Eerie.”
That got Rebecca’s attention.
It wasn’t just that Katya was talking to her – she had barely spoken even during their mandated counseling sessions, after all, offering only the most minimal information and guarded responses – but because anything involving the Changeling was of interest to Rebecca. Rebecca cared deeply for Eerie on a personal level, for one thing, and at the same time, Eerie represented one of the biggest unknowns of her professional career, a situation only exacerbated by her surprisingly affinity for Alex Warner.
“What about her?”
“I’m not sure,” Katya said, her expression dazed and remarkably unguarded. “Maybe I just don’t get her. I know I don’t get her and Alex.”
Rebecca sipped her wine and let Katya work it out. She didn’t want to spoil her surprisingly confessional mood by saying the wrong thing. She fought down the urge to nudge her emotionally – Katya hadn’t been lying about being a hard nut to crack. Whatever training she had received at the Black Sun assassin’s school, it made Katya more resilient to psychic tampering than any non-psychic that Rebecca had encountered in her professional career, excepting only her mistress, Anastasia Martynova. Maybe it was something the Black Sun put in the water.
“I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re thinking. I think I have a higher opinion of Alex than most people do – don’t tell him I said that, by the way. But when it comes to figuring out what Eerie sees in him, as far as a boyfriend goes, or why he picked her out of all the girls throwing themselves at him – I’m at a loss. It’s a mystery, I guess,” she added, finishing her drink and then turning the cup upside down, so that the last few drops fell on the sand. “Pardon my language, Miss Levy, but I fucking hate mysteries.”
“You and Eerie talked about something, didn’t you? That’s why you followed Alex...”
“I followed Alex because that’s what I’m supposed to do,” Katya said, standing. “I keep an eye on him.”
“You’re a candidate for Audits,” Rebecca reminded her stiffly. “Protecting Alex isn’t your job anymore.”
“Looking after Alex, running errands for Audits – those are just chores I got handed. I’m an assassin, Miss Levy. Killing people is my job.” Katya shrugged and held up her empty cup. “I’m off to find a refill and a snack. Thanks for throwing the party, by the way.”
Rebecca watched her leave with narrowed eyes. Then she sighed, and returned to the joint, which had nearly gone out, and needed some attention to get burning again.
While she burned it down to a roach, Rebecca scanned the small crowd on the beach. Vivik held a stack of dried wood while Michael lit crumpled newspaper beneath a small wooden lean-to that had been built in the fire pit. In the near distance, Alice and Dr. Graaf were smoking cigars and having a seemingly pleasant chat with Gerald Windsor. Haley was throwing a Frisbee that an enthusiastic rottweiler retrieved while Eerie watched and clapped at every catch, fascinated. Min-jun was filling a cup from the pony keg setup near the laden barbeque that had attracted Katya’s attention. Alex and Timor chatted nearby, while Grigori and Chandi nursed cups that they didn’t seem to be drinking from. At the edge of the beach, Mitsuru watched everything with an impassive expression.
The decision to provide alcohol to students had been controversial. Michael in particular hadn’t liked it, particularly not with the regular class visiting from the Academy. But Rebecca felt that it was important to carve out safe outlets for the kids, occasionally, so they could act out in a supervised manner. Dr. Graaf had argued for intemperance with surprising conviction, while Gerald weakly objected. They had eventually settled on a psychically enforced three-drink limit.
The scene was pleasant to normal eyes, but Rebecca could feel the undercurrents of emotion – tension, desire, and jealousy – swirling through the party. Rebecca ground out the stub of her joint and stood reluctantly, trying to decide where to start first. Despite the weed, she didn’t feel high at all. All she felt was tired.
“All of you, have fun,” Rebecca commanded, speaking to the air and the night. “Make friends. Fall in love. Enjoy yourselves.” Rebecca paused, looking thoughtfully at the first flickering of the fire. “But no fucking,” she decided. “Definitely none of that.”
Rebecca sighed and shook her head to dispel the sudden fit of melancholy. She had the feeling it was going to be a long night.
***
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I was kind of hoping Anastasia would be here. Renton, too. It just isn’t the same...”
“Ha! Well, I won’t tell Renton that you miss him,” Timor said, amused. “He’s insufferable enough as it is, since Ana forced him to graduate and then promoted him off to the Committee. Even I hardly see him these days. And Anastasia took a leave of absence from the Academy shortly after you started at the Far Shores. She will probably test out herself without ever returning to class.”
“That sucks, man,” Alex sympathized. “It’s just you, then?”
“There are a few other Black Sun members, but no one as entertaining as the previous group, I’m afraid.”
“It’s pretty boring here,” Katya said, standing close to her brother, balancing a plate piled with short ribs and barbecued chicken. “Nothing to do but listen to Alex whine about everything.”
“Hey! I’m right here, you know.”
“That’s kinda the point.”
“Now, now, Katya, be nice,” Timor said with a grin. “He seems to me to have grown considerably since we last had time to chat. Training sessions and fighting in simulations aside, it has been a while.”
“Um, thanks,” Alex said, scratching his head. “Though you sorta make me sound like a little kid.”
“Don’t compliment him,” Katya said, a ring of barbeque sauce around her mouth. “He’ll go into some kind of gay panic.”
“Not cool. Seriously,” Alex protested. “I’m not like that.”
/> Timor laughed.
“Don’t worry,” Timor said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I am well aware that my sister is awful. If she had good things to say about you, then I would worry.”
Alex was obscurely grateful. It was weird to think he would have come to miss the Academy so much, even Anastasia’s little crew, but seeing them all again made him nostalgic for the nights he had spent drinking with the guys, homeroom with Mr. Windsor, and having lunch on the roof or in the quad...but that made him think of the people who weren’t here, which was far from pleasant. Margot, for example – despite her chilly demeanor, he missed the vampire girl and her single-minded enthusiasm for Audits. He couldn’t help but think his experience in the Program, and at the Far Shores, would have been easier to bear had she been there to share the burden.
And then, of course, there was Emily...but it was best not to think about her. No good would come from resurrecting her memory.
“Shouldn’t you go hang out with your girlfriend?” Katya inquired, tossing the picked-clean remains of a rib over her shoulder and into the darkness. “I see you every day, and I wanna talk with Timor.”
“Oh, um, yeah,” Alex said, realizing that she was probably right. “I’ll catch you later, okay, Timor?”
“Sure.”
“Scram!” Katya ordered, kicking sand in his general direction. “Dummy.”
They waited until Alex was out of earshot.
“It is good to see you, Katya,” Timor said cheerfully, taking a piece of chicken from her plate and ignoring her glare. “I’m glad you and Alex are getting along so well.”
“So far, so good,” Katya said, shrugging. “Wish I could say the same for the rest of the plan. How are things on your end?”
“Grim,” Timor said, his expression darkening. “I am trying to hold the Black Sun contingent at the Academy together in Anastasia’s absence, but I am a poor substitute to say the least. If the current situation should persist much longer, I fear that the Hegemony efforts to recruit from our stable of students may find some success. Only the rampant brutality of the Thule Cartel’s purge prevents them from forming a united front against us.”
“Neat.”
“Very.”
“It’s true, then?” Katya lowered her voice and glanced at her brother with evident concern. “Anastasia’s really...you know?”
“That is my understanding,” Timor said gently, putting his arm comfortingly around his sister’s shoulders. “I am certain that all will be well, however. Trust in her as you always have, Katya.”
Katya nodded slowly.
“And Renton?”
“Haven’t seen him,” Timor said, with a shrug. “He has not been present to represent Ana at the Committee, however, so I assume that he is doing her will. As must we all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Timor ruffled Katya’s hair, earning him a stern look.
“What of the Changeling, Katya?”
“That’s a real good question,” Katya said softly, watching as the fire slowly came to life. “I’m not sure I have an answer.”
Timor opened his mouth to ask another question, then shut it again abruptly, subtly nudging Katya to be on her guard. Chandi Tuesday and Grigori Aushev emerged from the darkness at the edge of the steadily expanding firelight, wearing expressions that suggested this was not a conversation they were eager to have.
Chandi approached while Grigori stopped a meter short, arms crossed and eyes narrow, as if daring them to try something. Katya had to suppress the urge to giggle.
“Timor and Katya Zharova,” Chandi said, extending her hand to Timor. He shook it gently, and then she offered it to Katya, who just laughed. “I must admit that you were not my first choices, but it has been rather difficult to locate the leadership of the Black Sun of late.” Chandi retracted her arm, a stiff and professional smile plastered across her face. The head scarf she wore had metallic multicolored threads interspersed within the weave, and they glittered in accordance with the firelight.
“You must have had significant troubles, if you settled on us,” Timor offered carefully. “I regret to inform you that we are quite low in the hierarchy. Perhaps you might try contacting Josef Martynova’s offices in Central? Even if he is not presently available, he maintains an extensive staff there.”
“You misunderstand,” Chandi said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk to Josef Martynova. I want to talk to the leadership of the Black Sun Cartel. Anastasia Martynova is currently rather obscurely ‘abroad,’ according to her office, and Renton Hall, her delegated representative in the Committee-at-Large, has proved equally difficult to contact. But the two of you report directly to Anastasia Martynova, which makes you the next best thing.”
“We don’t know what you are talking about,” Katya countered. “I am a candidate for Audits, and Timor is simply a student at the Academy, though we are both pledged to the Black Sun Cartel. However...if we did know how to contact Anastasia Martynova, is there a message that you would like us to pass along?”
Chandi shook her head, iridescent green and blue threads shining in her scarf.
“Not a message. A conversation that must be had,” Chandi corrected primly. “It seems that we have an enemy in common.”
“And that would be?” Timor inquired, with a charming smile.
Grigori scowled and cracked his knuckles.
“You know as well as I do,” Chandi said softly. “Thule. We have information that could be very important to Anastasia Martynova.”
Neither sibling reacted. Chandi sighed, then continued.
“As an act of good faith, I will elaborate. Over the past few years, we have become aware that Miss Martynova has made discrete inquiries into the nature of the Far Shores facility,” Chandi explained, handing a folded sheet of paper discreetly to Timor. “She was concerned that certain technological developments made there appeared to have a great deal in common with salvaged technology attributed to the Church of Sleep. A notable amount of resources have been dedicated to exploring the possibility of this connection.”
Timor pocketed the scrap of paper without looking at it.
“That is all very obscure,” he observed politely. “How do you know all of this?”
“Irrelevant,” Chandi said dismissively. “We have discovered the identity of the double agent Miss Martynova suspected was embedded at the Far Shores. I just provided you a coded telepathic prompt that will provide the identity of the agent, along with evidence proving our claim, accessible to any telepath. Keep it secure – the information came at a price.”
Timor studied Chandi thoughtfully.
“Assuming this information proved to be of value – a highly unlikely circumstance – then what would you hope to gain in recompense?”
“A new understanding, befitting of our evolving world,” Chandi Tuesday responded bitterly. “Things, as they say, fall apart.”
***
“He is so cool!”
“Yeah,” Haley agreed. “Derrida is pretty cool. You can pet him, if you want. He’s real friendly.”
Eerie reached her hand out cautiously for the rottweiler mix to inspect. He sniffed it a few times, then licked her palm, causing Eerie to yelp and take one step back. Haley laughed, while Eerie rallied, approaching the dog cautiously, hand extended. The dog sat patiently while Eerie worked up the nerve to gently stroke the back of his head.
“So cool!”
“Yeah. He is. I wouldn’t have come here if they hadn’t let me bring my dogs, honestly.”
“You have more?” Eerie’s dilated eyes were wide. “How many?”
“Four, at the moment.” Haley crouched beside Derrida to scratch his chest. “I adopted all of them from the shelter my mom volunteers at before I was recruited. I made my acceptance conditional on bringing them.”
“Wow!”
Eerie scratched Derrida behind his ears, and was rewarded by the dog pressing his large head against her skirt.
“The
other three are cleared for the field, but Derrida is still recovering from a paw injury that got infected, so he’s staying at the Bio lab here, getting vet treatments. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days, actually.”
“Poor thing...”
“Oh, he’s fine,” Haley said, slapping Derrida on the back jovially. “Just clumsy.”
“Derrida is so cool. I am so jealous.”
Haley stood, brushing hair from her hands, and looked at Eerie thoughtfully. She knew the Changeling in a vague way, through Serafina, but their previous interactions had amounted to saying hello when they encountered each other in hallways or at the pool. Eerie was part of the rather famous Academy Sewing Circle, but Haley had no talent or interest for knitting or needlework. Since they were in different classes, most of what Haley knew about Eerie was based on rumor, not all of it nice.
“Actually, I’m a little bit jealous of you,” Haley admitted. “You have a boyfriend.”
Eerie paused in the act of scratching Derrida’s head. The dog whined and pressed his head repeatedly against Eerie’s still hand.
“Oh. You mean Alex?”
“Yeah. Who else?”
“Um. Yes. He’s...nice. You are pretty, though, Haley. And you have dogs! Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
Haley didn’t exactly follow Eerie’s reasoning, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.
“Thanks, Eerie. That’s nice of you to say. But I’m a peculiar type of telepath and remote viewer. Boys are afraid of me. No one wants a living surveillance system for a girlfriend.”
“Huh?”
Haley had to smile at the genuineness of Eerie’s open-mouthed confusion. She had no trouble understanding why Alex had fallen for her. In the convoluted and treacherous environment of Central, the Changeling was refreshingly direct and guileless.
“I can look through other people’s eyes, Eerie,” Haley explained gently. “Even take control of their body. When I get close to someone, I end up snooping involuntarily. Even when I try not to, I pick up bits and pieces. Not many boys are into the idea of a girl who is constantly staring over their shoulder, even if they don’t have anything worth keeping secret. People value their privacy, and I can’t give it to them.”
The Far Shores (The Central Series) Page 35
