Waste it! Atticus lived on the same corridor as Amber for five years. He dated her a couple of times. The only reason they didn’t get into a serious relationship was because they knew Lottery would divide them and …
I’m going to mess this up, just the same way I messed up every social encounter when I lived on Teen Level. Why would Amber, why would any girl, be interested in …?
Much further down, in the deep subconscious levels of the mind, was the red-hued core of Lucas’s distress. Wordless memories of the father who’d walked away when he was six years old, and the mother who’d slammed the door in his face when he was thirteen, were joined by a fear-created image of me coldly abandoning him too.
I daren’t say anything aloud to comfort Lucas, so settled for taking his hand. I was rewarded by seeing his thoughts grow calmer, before I pulled back into my own head to deal with the problem of Atticus.
Forge would be back as soon as he’d shed all traces of his disguise and checked on his Beta Strike team, but I wasn’t sure what to do with Atticus until then. I daren’t take him to the apartment I shared with Lucas because Lucas’s subconscious would probably see that as some sort of symbolic threat.
It would be dreadfully rude to keep Atticus standing in a corridor. I was considering showing him our operations room, when I remembered we had a communal dining area here. Sharing Lucas’s memories of his childhood must have triggered some old memories of my own, because I found myself saying exactly the same words that my mother would have used in this situation.
“We must offer you some food and drink, Atticus.”
I led the way down the corridor to the large room with the kitchen units. It was half full of chattering people, but the conversations all stopped when we arrived. Everyone stared at Atticus, turned to look speculatively at Lucas, and then back at Atticus again. Fortunately, Atticus was too stunned by the sight of the room to notice people were acting oddly.
“You’re using crates for tables and chairs!” he said.
I nodded. “Something happened to our furniture. I’m afraid the kitchen units have a very limited menu because of power supply issues, but we’ve got plenty of drinks, crunch cakes, protein bars, and fruit strips.”
We went across the room to the makeshift table that held food and drinks. Lucas and Atticus both chose protein bars, I picked up a glass of melon juice, and then we all sat down on some spare crates.
“I thought telepaths all lived in luxury,” said Atticus, in a confused voice. “What happened to your furniture?”
I was thirstily gulping down my melon juice, so I let Lucas answer that question.
“I ordered the Strike team to burn it,” he said.
“What? Why?” asked Atticus.
“It was poisoned. Well, some of it was poisoned. Unfortunately, that gave the Strike team the chance to do some cooking on the fire.” Lucas threw a nervous glance at me. “Not that there’s anything that bad about their cooking. I try to avoid eating it myself, but Amber seems to like it.”
I heard a groan from nearby, turned to see Adika pulling a graphic face of despair, and instinctively linked to his thoughts.
Waste it! Why is Lucas babbling away like this instead of taking charge of the conversation? Forge told me that Amber and Atticus had barely exchanged a couple of kisses on Teen Level. If Lucas thinks Atticus is a threat to his relationship with Amber, then he should be flaunting the fact he’s sleeping with her and …
I was hit by a far too graphic image, and hastily pulled out of Adika’s mind.
Adika grabbed a random fruit strip, dragged another crate over so he could sit with us, and gave Atticus a menacing look. “Don’t worry about the furniture. We’re not quite reduced to sleeping on the floor. We’ve all got mattresses and sleep sacks, though of course Lucas and Amber are sharing …”
I dumped my empty glass on the floor and interrupted him sharply. “Adika, shouldn’t you be giving instructions to the men on guard duty?”
“My men all know …” Adika seemed to notice my threatening expression at this point, because he let his sentence trail off and started another. “A surprise inspection is always a good idea.”
As Adika stood up and headed for the doorway, Buzz came up to join us. “Lucas, can you meet Emili in the operations room? She urgently needs to check some details about the surveillance cameras with you.”
Lucas gave Buzz a grateful look and scrambled to his feet. “Yes, I’d better go at once. It was nice meeting you, Atticus.”
Lucas hurried off after Adika, and Buzz promptly sat down next to me. She wasn’t such a spectacular figure as usual, because the effect of her bright red outfit was dimmed by the very functional, thick, grey jacket she wore over it, but nothing could dim the impact of the smile she gave Atticus.
“I’m Buzz,” she said. “Forge has told me all about you, Atticus. Did he mention me when the two of you met back at the unit?”
“Yes, he did.” Atticus gave her a dazed look. “Forge said that you and he were … Well, he wasn’t exactly clear about your relationship.”
Buzz’s voice took on a confiding tone. “Forge and I try to avoid the limiting, standard terms for relationships, but you’ll understand me asking your opinion of his Teen Level girlfriend, Shanna. Forge feels he shouldn’t tell me too many details about what happened between them, and Amber never likes to be rude about anyone, so I’m desperate for some objective information.”
“If Forge feels that he shouldn’t talk to you about Shanna, then I probably shouldn’t discuss her either,” said Atticus nervously.
Buzz gave him a beaming look of approval. “You’re a loyal friend to Forge. I’m not asking questions out of jealousy or idle curiosity though. I’m a psychologist, and Shanna’s behaviour has had a damaging effect on Forge. I want to help him deal with his past issues so he can move on with his life.”
Atticus frowned. “You can’t give Forge psychological treatment if you’re personally involved with him. It would breach the guidelines on professional conduct.”
“I’m not just a psychologist, but a borderline telepath as well,” said Buzz glibly. “We have a modified set of guidelines due to the complications of our insights blurring the standard professional boundaries, and Forge prefers to discuss his feelings with me rather than anyone else.”
I suspected Buzz was making up the bit about the modified guidelines. My counsellor could be quite unscrupulous at times. I considered stopping Buzz from dragging information out of Atticus, but I knew she was right that Shanna’s behaviour had had a damaging effect on Forge. Whether it was against official guidelines or not, I could understand Forge preferring to talk to Buzz rather than someone like Megan.
It was tempting to use my telepathy to check exactly what was going on between Forge and Buzz, but I’d agreed not to read my counsellor’s mind, and I shouldn’t go prying around in Forge’s head either. This was another case where I had to balance doing my work as a telepath with respecting personal privacy. When I read Forge’s thoughts as part of my duties, I might accidentally see something about his relationship with Buzz, but I shouldn’t deliberately go looking for personal information.
No, actually this was about more than respecting personal privacy. It was about recognizing when I should interfere in other people’s lives and when I shouldn’t. I remembered Morton’s warning that I should guard my behaviour. Eli had needed my support in facing his operation, and I’d made a well-meaning attempt to help Rafael and Zak as well, but there was no need for me to intervene here. Buzz and Forge were perfectly capable of sorting out their own relationship, so I should keep quiet and let them do it.
Buzz was still talking. “I get the impression Shanna was vain, shallow, and treated Forge like a fashion accessory.”
Atticus threw an apprehensive glance in my direction. “Well, I never liked Shanna, but she was Amber’s best friend on Teen Level.”
Buzz gave me a pointed look. “There’s a jug of your favourite soup next to the k
itchen unit, Amber.”
I sighed, stood up, and went over to where Sakshi was standing guard over a kitchen unit that seemed to have grown a lot of extra wires. I picked up the jug next to it, poured out a mug of soup, and then noticed there was a plate of bread rolls as well.
“You’ve got the bread setting working at last,” I said in delight. “How did you manage that, Sakshi?”
“I’m cooking the bread rolls using a modified casserole setting,” said Sakshi proudly.
“Well done.”
I picked up a bread roll, and turned to face Buzz and Atticus. Buzz must have succeeded in coaxing Atticus into talking about Shanna, because they were engaged in an animated conversation. Buzz obviously wouldn’t want me interrupting them, but I felt I shouldn’t leave the room until Forge arrived. Buzz had rescued Lucas from the conversation with Atticus, and I might need to rescue Atticus from her in turn.
I saw Gideon had arranged a couple of mattresses against the wall to form a rough couch, and went over to sit next to him.
Gideon smiled at me. “I noticed Lucas couldn’t cope with socializing with your old boyfriend, and reverted to the clown act he used to survive on Teen Level. When Buzz arrived, he seemed pathetically grateful to escape.”
I was disconcerted. “How do you know about Lucas acting the clown on Teen Level?”
“I’m the most experienced member of the Tactical team,” said Gideon, “so Lucas asked me to support him in the challenge of becoming a Tactical Commander. We talked through all his weaknesses, and identified the areas he needed to improve.”
Gideon shrugged. “Lucas has made great progress. He’s mostly broken his old habit of missing out words in sentences, so it’s far easier for the Tactical team to follow what he says during discussions. There are some weaknesses that can’t be changed though. What Lucas went through as a child and on Teen Level gave him the sensitivity needed to be a brilliant behavioural analyst, as well as the emotional strength to survive the stress of being a Tactical Commander, but it’s left him deeply vulnerable in certain areas.”
I nodded. “I understand that the situation with Atticus triggered some bad Teen Level memories for Lucas.”
“You understand all Lucas’s weaknesses,” said Gideon, “but they frustrate our Strike team leader. I saw you chase away Adika earlier. Was he leaping in to fight Lucas’s battles for him?”
I groaned. “Yes. Adika seems to have interrogated Forge to learn details of my personal history with Atticus. I wish Adika wasn’t so nosy. In fact, I wish everyone in my unit would stop studying my every move.”
“I’m afraid that’s never going to happen, Amber. The telepath is the beating heart of their unit, so their people will always be watching them. It’s not just that a unit’s success depends on the telepath’s ability. The lifestyle of each unit is heavily influenced by the personality of its telepath.”
“What do you mean by that? Surely life is the same in every Telepath Unit?”
Gideon shook his head. “Everyone who works in a Telepath Unit knows they are very distinctive places. Lucas used to work in Keith’s unit. He must have told you it’s an unhappy place filled with conflict.”
“That’s true. What is it like in the other units?”
“I’ve never visited them myself,” said Gideon, “but they each have a reputation. Morton’s unit is known to be austere and dedicated. Sapphire’s unit is notorious for its people both working and playing hard. Mira’s unit is a gentle place full of flowers.”
I ate some bread before speaking again. “And what’s the reputation of our unit? Are we known for having the chronically untidy telepath?”
Gideon laughed. “No. This trip has firmly established us as the unit that fights dangers Outside.”
I hesitated. There was a conversation I wanted to have with Gideon, and it was probably best to have it while we were at the sea farm rather than back at our unit.
“You worked for Claire for nearly fifty years. I’ve been wondering what she was like.”
Gideon’s mouth curved into a fondly reminiscent smile. “Claire was a redoubtable personality. She was fiercely practical, had a passionate belief in justice, an evil sense of humour, and a love of bookettes by an ancient author called Shakespeare. She got nostalgic at New Year festivals, adored chocolate, swore like a Strike team leader whenever one of her people got hurt, and would forgive any failing except betrayal.”
I remembered Morton saying that Claire had challenged him about his behaviour. Had whatever happened between him and Celandine offended Claire’s passionate belief in justice?
I was tempted to read Gideon’s mind to see his memories of Claire, but trespassing into such personal thoughts seemed intrusive. “Your whole unit must have been devastated when Claire died.”
Gideon seemed to stop and think before answering. “We weren’t devastated, because we’d been prepared for it to happen for such a long time. When Claire was eighty-one, she had a heart attack during an emergency run. We thought we’d lost her, but the efforts of our Strike team leader and the responding medical team pulled her back from the brink.”
He pulled a face. “It was a month before Claire recovered enough to do a check run, two months before our next emergency run, and the fittest, toughest doctor the Hive could find joined our unit to go on every run with Claire’s bodyguards. When we went through our start of run routine after that, Claire would always say the same thing. ‘Remember that every extra run is a gift.’”
“Oh,” I murmured.
“We had twelve years of those gifts,” continued Gideon. “Claire died of her second heart attack when we were out on a check run. She was ninety-three years old by then, so the feelings of sadness were mixed with gratitude that we’d had her with us so long.”
He sighed. “We’d been deliberately recruiting only older staff since Claire’s first heart attack, so virtually everyone was old enough to retire or move to easier posts when our unit shut down. The average age of our Strike team had been a running joke among the other Telepath units for years, and I was one of the youngest of the Tactical team at sixty-seven.”
I stared down at my hands for a moment. “You retired but came back to join my unit when it was formed.”
“Yes, Megan nagged me into coming back out of retirement.”
“Claire’s old unit was refurbished and became mine. Was it hard for you to come back and find your old home filled with strangers?”
Gideon looked surprised by the question. “No. Claire’s unit was never a place. It was Claire and the other people. We moved location twice while I was on Claire’s Tactical team, to adjust for the changing numbers and abilities of the Hive’s other telepaths, so we were only in what’s now your unit for the last ten years.”
He gave me a mischievous grin. “The only thing I found odd was suddenly being the oldest person in a unit swamped with eager but inexperienced people fresh from Lottery. That was exactly why I was needed, of course. I was here to be the symbol of wise experience, so I decided to play the part to the full and constantly complain about things like my ageing bones.”
I laughed. “You mean all your complaints are a strategy to build the confidence of the Tactical team.”
“Not all of them,” said Gideon. “My complaints about the sea farm have been perfectly genuine. I really am too old to be sitting on upturned crates and trying to sleep on a camping mattress.”
He paused. “I know you’ve been asking me about Claire for a reason, Amber. She had a long and glorious career serving the Hive, and you’re just starting out on your journey as a telepath. Do you find it worrying to think Claire lived in your unit before you? Are you comparing yourself to her and feeling intimidated?”
“I’ve had the occasional strange moment when I thought of Claire living in my apartment for seventy-five years,” I admitted. “I don’t think I’ll feel that way any longer though. It’s not just that you’ve told me Claire was only there for ten years. After listening to you talk
about her, I can picture her as a person rather than a ghost haunting me.”
It was at least a minute before Gideon could stop laughing. “You don’t need to worry about Claire haunting you, Amber. She was so business-like and practical that it’s impossible to think of her becoming a ghost. Claire was also a devoted Hiveist. The instant our Strike team leader scattered her ashes to release her spirit, she would have dutifully sprinted off to return to the Hive as a new life.”
Gideon smiled. “Allowing nine months for the pregnancy, the reborn Claire should be two years old. I may well be ashes myself sixteen years from now. If the Lottery of 2549 finds a true telepath that loves Shakespeare and chocolate, then please ask Lucas to give Claire my best wishes, and tell her she’s won our old argument about whether or not there’s life after death.”
“I’ll do that,” I said.
“Now I’m responsible for the data exchange with Tactical teams in the other Telepath Units,” said Gideon, “so I need to go and send them an update on the progress with our case.”
He struggled to his feet with a theatrical groan, and went out of the door. I slowly ate the last of my bread and soup, with thoughts of Claire still nagging at me. She would have been honoured with the traditional Hiveist memorial service. Her whole unit would have stood watching in solemn silence as her Strike team leader scattered her ashes.
I hadn’t worked out how I felt about religion – I’d been too busy working out how I felt about being a telepath – so I had no fixed ideas about what would have happened to Claire’s spirit. I was sure of one thing though. Claire’s memorial service would have been held in her unit park, and that park was now mine.
I’d been feeling so isolated from the other true telepaths. Was it comforting or unnerving to think that Claire’s ashes had been scattered in my unit park, becoming one with its trees and grasses?
A burst of loud conversation attracted my attention, and I saw Forge had arrived to take charge of entertaining Atticus. I hastily banished my thoughts of Claire, got to my feet, dumped my empty mug on top of a nearby crate, and went in search of Lucas.
Hurricane (Hive Mind Book 3) Page 34
