by R S Penney
Now all they had to do was wait for Claire to decide she was finished playing with her video games, and that would require quite a bit of prodding from their father. To his credit, Harry managed it in less than five minutes.
Claire wore a thick pink sweatshirt and kept her hair done up in twin braids that fell over her shoulders. Her round face was starting to mature now that she was less than six months away from her tenth birthday.
Claire hopped into a chair across from Melissa, then looked up to stare at her with those big brown eyes. “Are we ready to eat?” she asked. “I'm starving.”
“Almost,” Melissa replied. “We have to say Grace.”
“Oh…”
Their father stood at the head of the table with a hand resting on his chair, a fierce scowl on his face. “Claire,” he began in that cautionary tone. “This is important to your sister. Do as you're told.”
Claire bit her lip as she lowered her eyes to stare into her lap. “All right,” she said with a shrug. “But make it quick.”
That might have bothered Melissa if it had come from someone just a little older, but children really didn't understand what they were saying. It wasn't superstition that fueled her desire to reach out to God; it was a desire for a connection, a need to know that she was part of the larger universe.
She kept the prayer short and to the point, thanking the Lord for her loving family, her wonderful parents and her sister. She also made mention of Jena. Though things had started out awkward, she was glad to have a kind of…cool aunt that she could go to when she needed advice. Saying that out loud made the other woman blush.
Dinner was delicious, as always. She had to give her father this much credit: years of being a single parent had given him a real flair for making a hastily-prepared meal taste like a gourmet feast. They made smalltalk, though it was clear that Harry and Jena were avoiding the topic of her recent lapse in judgment.
The thought of it hung in the air like a ghost, taunting her with whispers that only she could hear. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Her father and Jena were both smiling, and it seemed as though they were having a good time. Nevertheless, she still felt awkward whenever they looked at her.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Melissa shut her eyes. “School's good,” she said, sliding her chair closer to the table. “I got a ninety-two on my last test in AP calculus. I'm considering writing the SAT. You know, just in case.”
“In case of what?” Jena inquired.
Harry lifted a glass of wine, pausing for a moment to watch them through the dark liquid. “The Americans have a test you have to take if you want to attend one of their colleges,” he explained. “Were you thinking of going down south, Melissa?”
“Not too deeply.”
“Good,” he said. “I wouldn't want you to go.”
Melissa threw her head back, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. “Come on, Dad,” she said, eyebrows rising. “There are SlipGates now. I could visit you every weekend for less than the price of a tank of gas.”
He frowned into his wine, his brows drawn together. “I suppose,” he said, giving his head a shake. “I just like the thought of having you nearby. That way I can be there when…when things get complicated.”
Crossing her arms, Jena leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. “She's growing up, Harry,” she muttered. “Sooner or later, you're going to have to learn to let go. Please don't make me use the words 'circle of life.'”
A scowl twisted Harry's features, and he buried his face in his hand. “We've been over this, Jen,” he muttered into his own palm. “When it comes to decisions like this, I have to make them alone.”
“Except it's not your decision!”
The outburst was probably unwise, but Melissa couldn't stop herself. She sat with hands folded in her lap, refusing to look at him. “Where I go to school is my decision, not yours, and no amount of screw-ups on my part will change that.”
“I didn't say it-”
Melissa bared her teeth like a snarling dog. “Furthermore,” she added, “I don't need you to leap to my rescue every time something goes wrong!”
When she looked up, her father was watching her with his lips pressed into a thin line, sweat glistening on his brow. “You certainly needed me the other night,” he said. “Don't talk to me about moving away until you prove you can be responsible.”
“Smooth, Harry,” Jena muttered under her breath. “Look, take it from somebody who lived through the whole teenage rebellious phase-”
“I don't want your advice.”
“Yeah, but-”
Melissa slid her chair back from the table with a loud scraping sound. That brought an abrupt end to the conversation, and she was thankful for it. She would not be the cause of a fight between the two of them. “If you're just going to argue,” she began, “then I'm just going to go upstairs.”
Trepidation welled up inside her, but she did her best to force it down. She hated being the centre of attention, and damn Aaron for his endless nagging! Yes, it had been her decision, but it was one she never would have made without him.
Tramping up the stairs brought her a little cathartic relief, but she was more than half expecting her father to call her back to the table. Fortunately, he never did. She took refuge in her room.
Melissa stood by the door with her arms folded, doubled over as she heaved out a deep breath. “Somebody shoot me,” she muttered, pacing over to her bed. “That's what I get for assuming things would run smoothly.”
She spent a great deal of time lying on her back and counting the little bumps of stucco on the ceiling. Somehow, she always lost count after four. They just seemed to blend together when you weren't looking.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock at her door.
“Come in.”
The door swung open to reveal not her father but Jena, standing in the hallway with hands clasped in front of herself, her head bowed almost reverently. “I convinced your dad that we should talk.”
Melissa sat up.
“What about?” she asked. “I know that what I did was stupid.”
“Every teenager does stupid things,” Jena mumbled. “Frankly, I'd be more worried if you never had at least one colossal screw-up.”
“Then why is Dad acting like this?”
“Because every parent worries.”
Melissa shook her head. “The truth is, Dad's opinion isn't the one I'm worried about,” she said, getting to her feet. “Parents always find a way to see the best in you.”
Jena looked up with a serene expression, arching one thin eyebrow. “I take it you mean me,” she said, striding across the room. “Relax, kid. I've done things far far worse than succumb to peer pressure.”
“Like drugs?”
“Couple times.”
Hearing that left Melissa feeling a little unsteady. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure what to make of that revelation. “I take it you've stopped?” she inquired. “Anna said that Nassai don't care for altered brain states.”
With a heavy sigh, Jena turned on her heel and went to the desk across from the foot of the bed. “I was young,” she said softly. “It's not something that I would do again. You might say joining the Keepers program gave me a new sense of focus.”
“So that means there's still a chance for me,” Melissa mumbled. “I haven't totally screwed up any chance of achieving the future I want?”
For some reason, Jena started chuckling. “Oh, kid…” she began through fits of laughter. “It wouldn't be very just if one mistake could destroy your life.”
“I suppose not.”
“Tell you what,” Jena said, hopping onto the edge of the desk. She sat primly with her hands in her lap. “Come on up to the station. I'll get you a visitor's pass. We can do some confidence building exercises and maybe teach you a little self-defense.”
“You'd do that for me?”
“Sure,” Jena replied. “On one condition.”
Melissa looked up
at the ceiling with her mouth hanging open, blinking slowly. “I think I know where this is going,” she muttered with more than a touch of irritation in her voice. “You want me to tell my dad that I plan to become a Keeper.”
“Damn straight.”
So much for any chance of her putting off that particular conversation. Still…If it gave her a chance to soak up some wisdom from her cool aunt, she figured a little family awkwardness was worth it. “Okay,” she said. “But I want the whole experience. I want to see a shuttle and learn hand-to-hand combat and read the philosophies of all the great Justice Keepers…”
“Kid,” Jena said, “I think we're gonna be great friends.”
The long corridor stretched on for what seemed like miles, curving slightly as it followed the ring of the station. Just wide enough for three men to walk side by side, it was nothing but gray walls and bright lights in the ceiling.
Keli strode through it at a brisk pace.
She wore a pair of black pants and a gray t-shirt with a hem that was longer in the back than in the front. Leyrian clothing. Not that she minded very much. Anything was better than the rags they had given her in that prison.
Staring into the distance with lips pursed, Keli blinked a few times. “It's amazing,” she said, turning around. “How can you people endure such drab surroundings day in and day out? How do you not go insane?”
The young man who followed her stopped short.
Or perhaps he wasn't young. Parel Torvano was a twiggy fellow with dark, copper skin and black hair that he let fall to the nape of his neck. His face was that of a teenage boy, but he might have been forty for all she knew. Justice Keepers. There were certain things in this universe that were just unnatural. “I told you that there's more to see up on the concourse level.”
A fierce grin made Keli's cheeks hurt. She chuckled, nodding her agreement. “Yes, you did. But there are hundreds of people on the concourse level at any given moment. The buzz of so many minds is disorienting.”
She turned her back on him.
Moving through the corridor with her fists balled at her sides, Keli kept her head down. “I prefer a brisk walk on my own,” she explained. “Solitude is the only reprieve I will ever have.”
She could feel him back there – feel them back there – keeping a close watch on her, never letting her get too far out of arm's reach. The alien Parel carried was full of an intense suspicion, and she was certain that it wanted her to know its feelings. Thanks to Raynar's unfortunate tendency to reveal everything he knew without consideration for the consequences, the Justice Keepers now knew that a telepath had a difficult time reading the thoughts of anyone who carried one of these Nassai.
Not that that would stop her – she was far more powerful than the average telepath – but the extra effort would be noticed. Trying to read a two-soul's thoughts would mean tipping her hand. She would not do so until she was ready to escape. Still, having one of those bloody Keepers following her wherever she went was…unnerving. The Leyrians would not confine her to a cell until she did something wrong, but they wouldn't let her move about unrestricted either.
She had gone walking every night since her arrival on this station, choosing a new direction each time. She wanted to learn the layout of this place. Whenever she got too close to a sensitive area, her Keeper escort tried to steer her back toward the concourse.
A man stepped out from one of the adjoining corridors with a grim expression. He was tall, slender and dressed in the gray uniform of a security officer. Keli had seen many of those.
Focusing on the man made images flash in her mind. She saw a beautiful blonde woman with fierce green eyes and then a child who could only be the woman's daughter. The guard had a family, it seemed. Words appeared in her field of vision, fizzling out before she could read them. So, he was writing a report.
She withdrew her focus, and the images vanished, leaving only an ordinary man who looked as if he expected to find a fistfight waiting for him around the next corner.
Keli turned.
Parel stood before her with arms folded, frowning as he looked her up and down. “Is something the matter?” he asked, arching a dark eyebrow. “We can go back to your quarters if you're getting tired.”
Keli forced a smile, bowing her head to him. “I was hoping you would tell me more about the station,” she said with a shrug. “Perhaps you could give me a tour? It would do wonders to ease my boredom.”
She focused on his thoughts but found only darkness there, a black fog so thick she thought it would smother her if she tried to wade through it. The symbiont was blocking her attempts to read him.
“I'd be happy to show you the common areas,” Parel said, taking a step back. “But I'm afraid certain parts of the station are restricted to people with the right security clearance.”
He was very worried about something; she could feel it even through the Nassai's attempts to shield his thoughts from her. Was now the time to push through that barrier? If she tried, she would almost certainly have to kill him. Her window to escape would only last until someone found the body. Perhaps there was another way. “What's making you so anxious, Parel?”
“I'm not anxious.”
Asking the question forced him to think about the answer for half a moment. She almost saw it there in the smoke; a shape coalesced in her mind's eye, breaking apart before she could identify it.
Keli backed away from him with hands clasped behind herself, smiling down at the floor. “Now, now,” she said through a giggle. “Let's not forget that I'm a telepath. There's really no point in lying to me.”
“I'm not lying.”
The image formed again, reshaping the fog that filled her mind's eye. She saw it for that one brief instant. A triangle. And not just any triangle! This one had a specific shape that she had only seen once before.
A SlipGate.
So the station's SlipGate was somewhere nearby. Might this be her opportunity to finally rid herself of these God-forsaken Leyrians? If she tried and failed, it would mean spending her days in another cell. How would she even locate the damn thing?
Grinning ferociously, Keli clamped a hand over her mouth. Of course, she thought, starting up the hallway at a brisk pace. All I have to do is figure out which way he doesn't want me to go.
She couldn't read his thoughts with any clarity, but she could pick up brief hints of emotion. Parel was tense, and the longer she remained in this hallway, the worse it got. The SlipGate was somewhere nearby.
Less than five minutes later, they came to a spot where another corridor extended from the wall on her left. Turn or go straight? Which would make Parel more uneasy? Only one way to find out. She took a step toward the adjoining corridor.
His emotions spiked for half a second before the Nassai smothered them in a haze of fog. No matter; she had her answer. This new hallway led to the SlipGate and possibly to her escape.
“I think we should head back to your quarters,” Parel said from behind her. To his credit, his voice was remarkably steady given the concern he felt. “There's nothing in this section of the station but empty storage rooms.”
Her lips curled into a small smile that she couldn't fight. “Then you shouldn't mind if I do a little exploring,” Keli said. “Come on, Parel. Indulge a young woman's curiosity. I'll just die of boredom if I have to spend another night in my quarters.”
The drab gray walls went on for several hundred paces before ending in yet another intersection. On the surface, this place looked no different than the rest of the station. The large metal doors in each wall were spaced at even intervals.
Keli made it a point to slow her pace as she passed each one – not so much that Parel would become suspicious but enough to let her sense his emotions. He was tense, but there was nothing to indicate-
His emotions spiked.
The set of double doors on her right was shut tight, their polished surface reflecting the hallway lights with a glossy shimmer. If she stepped into th
at room, would she find a way off this station?
“We should go.” Parel said.
Keli spun around to face him.
The man stood a few paces away with one hand resting on the pistol he wore on his hip. His face was haggard, twisted into an ugly grimace. “I'm quite serious, Ms. Armana. You shouldn't be down here.”
“Why not?”
“It's far from your quarters. You could get lost.”
Crossing her arms with an exasperated sigh, Keli hung her head. She backed away from him slowly. “Do you really think that's a danger? I could call for help from any of the numerous terminals you have down here.”
“Nevertheless, I-”
“What's in that room?”
Parel turned his head to look at the door, his eyebrows slowly rising. “That room?” he asked with enough incredulity to fool anyone who wasn't a telepath. “Ms. Armana, it's just an empty storage-”
She pressed her attack in that moment, trying to pierce through his defenses. The black fog filled her mind, but she sliced through it, diverting the Nassai by flooding its thoughts with memories of the anguish and loneliness she had experienced while trapped in that cell. Nassai were communal creatures; loneliness terrified them.
The fog parted to expose images of anarchy in a city street and a powerful sense of terror. She saw men and women beating each other senseless in the middle of the road while others smashed windows. The screams were intense.
Then she saw herself standing on top of some sort of vehicle, a gleeful smile on her own face as she directed the chaos. This was Parel's fear. He was one of those Leyrians who did not understand the scope of a telepath's abilities, and though he wasn't exactly expecting this, he saw it as a kind of worst-case scenario.
She hurled sensory information into his brain, overwhelming him with sights and sounds and smells. Images that he could not process before she ripped them away. A haze of confusion left him off balance.
Keli seized his arm and pulled him toward the wall.
The double doors slid open to reveal a large room where a control panel faced a sleek triangular SlipGate. There was no one else present. Even if someone had decided to hide next to the door, she would have sensed his thoughts.
