A scuffle in the doorway announced a late arrival. Angela leaned back in her chair, happy to wait for whomever it was before continuing the meeting. It turned out to be Chavez and Niri. Angela didn’t need telepathy to know that there was some bone of contention between them.
“Welcome to the meeting,” Angela said slowly enough to make it sound displeased.
“Sorry, there was a slight medical problem,” Chavez excused, while seating himself.
Gene raised his eyebrow at that. Of course he was paying attention now, Angela thought privately to herself.
Niri stood for a moment longer, before taking her seat behind Chavez in one of the assistant level chairs lining the wall. “One of my student’s had an accident. Tina’s taking care of her.”
“Accident,” scoffed Chavez quietly, “She ran face first into a pole.”
Angela sensed Niri glaring into the back of Chavez’s head. “Since you’re here Chavez, do you think we could discuss the declining factor enrolment? New factors are down twenty percent in the last few years,” Angela asked, curious because without new factors where would she find a replacement, and conversely if the factors ceased to exist by attrition maybe she could quit after all.
Chavez sat up straight and turned to glare at Niri, who seemed almost as surprised as he was by Angela’s chosen topic. His violent reaction doubled her curiosity at the answer. “I, uh, have been having trouble finding qualified applicants.”
“Qualified applicants are coming out of the walls! You’ve had trouble accepting their applications! How many kids have to run themselves up poles to get your attention? You elitist piece of . . .” Niri shouted leaping uncharacteristically from her chair, only barely stopping herself before she could say something inappropriate.
Both of Angela’s eyebrows rose, this was worth coming to the meeting for.
“She doesn’t even have human Everett ratings! She’s . . . She’s . . . Tele-pathetic! That’s what she is!” Sinclair growled in response.
The room fell silent, until a softly angry retort came from a surprising mouth. Gene asked, “And telepathy is the end all and be all of sentient existence?”
Sinclair’s built up verbal momentum stalled and sputtered to a halt, “Uh, um, that is to say. . .”
Mouth opened foot inserted, and he was starting to chew. Okay, so he wasn’t a top gun in an argument- or anywhere else. What is it people say? If you can, do. If you can’t, teach. Somebody should bail the poor slob out. Angela let a smirk slip out. It looked like a good time to put Sinclair in his place.
“So, what you’re saying, Sinclair, is that your personal prejudices are what has been decreasing factor enrolment,” Angela asked, barely managing not to laugh out loud at the clown. Angela’s question met silence.
“He has rejected at least half the kids that applied out of the last ten of my pre-training classes. They’re the ones that applied early and young, the ones that want it the most.”
“She’d have me take all of those students of hers!” Sinclair whined.
“No just the ones that actually apply, despite all I could do to discourage them by way of showing how much work becoming a factor will be. Instead he pursues the ones with telempathic pedigrees out the yang. Who incidentally couldn’t really care less about being factors. They just took the class to be >cool’, and only stayed in after it got hard because their parents were so darn proud that they made them! They don’t want a thing to do with factoring. He’s been behind the desk so long shoveling applications that all he ever sees anymore at are the Everett scores,” Niri said sitting down, telepathically glowing in a self-satisfied way.
“There! She said she discourages application!” Sinclair leapt on Niri’s words, clearly not comprehending what she had said.
Gene snickered then shoved aside his pop-pads and rose, “Might I offer a suggestion?” Angela nodded, she knew what it was even without being able to read his mind, and she could hug him for it. AWhy don’t we try to see which is the better judge of factor potential? They could both pick their >ideal’ applicant and then you test them. Heck take it a step further, find out which of them has the better training techniques too. Have them train their applicants for a while after the first test. Then test them again and see which can perform better in the end with all the resources available to a factor.” Gene made the suggestion sound so off the top of his head, and knowing Gene it was, but he had made the same sort of speech before, in the good old days.
Sinclair hesitated, “I don’t want stuck training people I don’t think are up to it!”
“That won’t be a problem. You pick your applicant and we’ll do like Gene says. Then when it’s all over the one who clearly proves his or her self stays and heads the department the other one transfers out and finds a department they are more suited to with their skills,” Angela could feel him squirming as she spoke.
“What!” Sinclair howled.
Angela suppressed a smirk, and saw Gene doing the same. It was definitely like the good ol' days. If only it could stay this way, but no, the meeting and the rest of the universe must go on. “Is that an objection? It seems a valid plan to me. The heart of the dispute is a difference of opinion. Gene has offered a plan to test which opinion is more effective here. The less effective individual then finds another department their opinions and skills make them more suited to. In the past people have, in the end, been happier in their new departments.”
Niri leapt up, “I’ll do it! It seems fair to me.”
Sinclair sputtered, he couldn’t argue now. It wasn’t in his makeup, and Niri knew it, that’s why she’d said what she said. “Agreed,” Sinclair muttered through almost clenched teeth.
“Since I have a fair idea of who Niri would pick, I say we put it off formally selecting the children at least until the Peterson girl has had some time to heal. Also, I think it would be best if you didn’t tell the children what is at stake in their tests. At least no stakes higher than their hopes of becoming factors. It would put unfair pressure on them,” Gene suggested. Angela teleported Gene one of his favorite jelly doughnuts, for again being right on cue, and with the hopes it could entice him back tomorrow. He picked it up, like it had been there all along, and sat back down, gathering his pop-pads back up. Without a further word he was back, absorbed in his notes appearing to take no more notice of anything, except the doughnut which he ate absently.
Angela just wanted to sit back and watch him eat, but the darn universe kept on working even if she didn’t want to. “Okay, moving on, any more news on the dark pattern of destruction?” Angela asked, tuning out the answer. Instead, she let her mind wander to a more interesting subject. What was the girl that started the argument like? Angela sighed softly. It wasn’t likely the girl had the potential to take over Angela’s job or even to be any help finding a replacement, but at least she’d lightened the tedium for a while. Ran herself up a pole? Angela chuckled.
- - - - - - - - - -
Yllera paid for her newspaper and started for the bus stop. The headline caught her eye, “Vice President to Hit Denver.” It made him sound like a baseball bat. The old fart had about as much personality as one. He would be speaking at her graduation ceremony. She just hoped she could stay awake through it. The man could put an insomniac to sleep.
Her eyes scanned down the page the next headline was more disturbing, “Two Bodies Found as Two More Women Disappear.” Yllera shook her head, two weeks ago the story would have eclipsed the vice presidential visit. Then again, two weeks ago the serial kidnappings and murders had only recently hit the news. At this point, even the police might be losing interest.
Yllera glanced up in time to see the bus stopped at the stoplight. If she hurried, she could make it to the bus stop in time. On the run, Yllera folded her paper and tucked it into her bag. She made it. The bus driver smiled as she paid her fair and collected her transfer.
“You could set your alarm five minutes earlier,” The bus driver suggested.
&n
bsp; “Or you could run late for me, Frank.” Yllera took a seat behind him.
“How’s it going? You get an ‘A’ on that paper?” He asked, glancing back at her through his mirror before pulling out.
“Yeah, the professor wrote a note about how creative picking a bus for my field observations was. The trouble is that I think he just meant weird.”
“Anthropologists, go figure,” The driver stopped at the next stop.
The bus filled with little old ladies. Dutifully Yllera stood and gave her seat to one of them. The woman sat, reminding Yllera of her grandmother. It had been ages since Yllera last saw her grandmother smile.
She shrugged off the mood and tried to focus on school, just three finals and she was done. All that would be left would be showing up to receive her degree. Four years in college to receive a teaching degree, too bad she would probably never use it. Yllera grabbed the overhead bar to steady herself as the bus went around the corner. That shook her out of her thoughts, money time.
Yllera pulled her camera out of her bag and aimed it at the building as they passed. Then casually she tucked it back in her bag and waved a reminder at Frank that her stop was next. He waved back and stopped on cue. Yllera hopped from the bus to the curb and turned to wave goodbye to Frank, nice man but lacking a bit in the brains department. He closed the door and pulled out, five minutes ahead of schedule by Yllera’s watch. Good old Frank, was always five minutes ahead of schedule, and good old Larry, the driver of the connecting bus, always ran five minutes late.
Yllera pulled her pop-pad out of her bag as far as passers by were concerned it looked like a PDA, but it was definitely more. It linked her to Sanctuary, and was her best information tool. She tapped the screen with her thumb. It lit up showing a diagram of the inside of the building across the street. She tapped the screen again and the diagram changed, updated by the data from her scans on the bus.
Little lights of different colors had twinkled on. Some had been there before, but were now dimmer, those would be the prisoners, and by the scan they wouldn’t last much longer. Yllera knew she should call Sanctuary for back up, but the scan told her there wasn’t time to debate action or her part in it. Those women would be dead. Yllera tapped the key that would automatically send her report and tucked the pad back inside her bag, zipping it closed. Then she slung the bag around her back, and headed across the street. She fingered the charm hanging from the zipper of her coat. If things got rough all, she had to do was pull.
Yllera took a deep breath and walked up to the door of the building. She tried the knob, it was locked. What did she expect? Like they were going to leave the door unlocked with eight kidnapped women inside. The locked door deflated Yllera’s ego enough from the high of being right that she took time to think about what she was doing. Those women were most likely Agurians, like Yllera’s mother, abducted by the dark, like her mother, and probably rape victims like her mother. If all of that were the case, then Yllera perfectly fit the profile of the type of woman the dark kidnapers were after, and here she was about to walk in boldly to rescue them. Unarmed?
Yllera heard a bus pass her stop. If it was hers, it would be half an hour until the next one. She turned to look but missed the number. Maybe it was hers, maybe not either way she may as well find a way into the building. Yllera started around the building, trying to find a way in. Part of her mind had wandered to her immanent anthropology final. Not to whether or not she would pass but whether or not she’d brought the right writing implement to fill in the test. Yllera didn’t notice someone creeping up behind her until a hand tapped her on the shoulder. She almost jumped out of her skin.
“Miss you shouldn’t be here,” The man said gruffly when she turned to face him. He was handsome and dressed sharply in a dark blue suit.
“I, uhm, was just curious about this building. I ride past it every day and uhm,” Yllera floundered. She had managed a very innocent and clueless tone of voice, which the man’s face told her he believed. Until, she felt him reaching out to touch her mind. She instinctively shoved his thoughts away, shielding her own.
His face flashed from surprised to angry to frightening. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and started pulling her back towards the street and the entrance to the building. Yllera fingered the charm on her jacket.
The man reached the street and looked around at the passing cars and people collecting at the bus stop. As if he knew all she had to do was scream, he let go of her arm. “I think you should leave!”
Yllera held her urge to sprint away in check, managing an apparently fearless walking pace. She remembered a piece of advice Miranda had given her, “Don’t let them see how scared you are. If they think you’re not afraid, then they’ll be put off guard wondering what you know that they don’t.”
Yllera turned back to look at the man, to show him how 'un'afraid she was, but he was already gone.
Yllera crossed the street and joined the people waiting at the bus stop. Her heart was pounding in her throat. She pulled out her camera and sat it on her knee, casually aiming it at the building until the bus came. Once on board, Yllera grabbed her pop-pad and cancelled the command to send her report. She would have to add to it. Then hesitantly she checked the scan. A new light moved quickly through the building, stopping briefly near each of the old ones. They disappeared one by one until the new light came to the room with the dimming lights of the women. Then the screen froze, end of scan.
Yllera shoved the pop-pad back in her bag. That was that. She had screwed up. When her report got to Angela, Yllera would be lucky to type the transcripts of other factors’ reports. Maybe she would need a teaching certificate after all.
Yllera slid out of her seat, the test had gone well, but her day was getting worse, at least in her opinion. She had no more classes, and no excuse for not writing out that morning’s ill-fated escapade. She could take some time to cash her books in at the bookstore, but, that wasn’t going to be much help. Nothing really could prevent the horrid necessity of writing that report. All that further procrastination did was increase her certainty that it would be her last report as a factor.
Paying little attention to anything other than her feet, Yllera made her way to the ladies room. She didn’t even notice the man following her in, at least not until he locked the door. The sound of the lock shook her up and made her twitch around to look at him. It was the same man as that morning. Now she was really in trouble. She reminded herself to show no fear, though her hand went straight to her zipper pull.
“I don’t know who you are lady, but you are in big trouble!” He hissed softly, stepping towards her.
Her blood froze, she couldn’t even get her hand to yank on the charm. In her mind she was squealing in fear, her thoughts incomprehensible even to herself, except for one, “He’s dark and he’s going to get me.”
“You shouldn’t have been messing around that building! Do you even know what was going on in there or were you just blindly following your telepathic nose?” He continued in an ominously soft voice as began backing her towards a stall.
“I, I, I,” Yllera tried to answer.
“Yeah, okay, you understand how dangerous it was and will never do it again! The trouble is that I can’t leave it at that. You were jeopardizing more than yourself! You could have gotten eight other women killed too, not to mention me!” The man’s voice rose in anger.
Yllera shook her head and did a double take. It almost sounded like the man weren’t dark, but then who was he?
She must have telepathically projected her question because he answered her, “My name is Max. I’m a catalyst working for The Galactic Council. I was assigned to investigate the disappearance of several Agurian females. If you had kept up like you were, I have a feeling that you would have joined them, Agurian or not.” He flashed a clear card with a holographic image of himself and what she took for the official seal of this dimension’s Galactic Council.
Yllera relaxed. A catalyst, that was a dimension
’s internal version of a factor. “I was investigating the same thing. My name’s Yllera Vllett. I’m a tertiary factor.”
“Vllett, so you are Agurian! What in the heck is a factor?” He asked backing off a bit.
Yllera smiled, “Yeah, I am Agurian, and a factor is kind of like an inter-dimensional catalyst. We work out of Sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary, yeah I’ve heard of that. My ex-partner called those folk a bunch of lazy, paranoid, sit on their butts. He was involved when the first one of you came through, the survey factor, or whatever,” Max grumbled.
“She was a primary. She noted several oddities in this earth’s histories. The chief decided it would be a good idea to station someone here to keep an eye on things,” Yllera provided.
“Ever heard of looking but not touching?” He grunted taking a seat on the sink counter.
“Ever heard of identifying yourself in the field?” She parried sitting on the floor across from him.
“I don’t know, have you?”
Yllera blushed, “So why is he your >ex-partner’?”
“Because you earn more credits freelance than you do when you’re under contract with the council,” Max thrust another question forward, “My turn! Why is a tertiary factor earning a degree in teaching?”
“Because I’m only a tertiary factor, and after today’s fiasco I may need another career to fall back on,” She parried.
Thrust, “So how well does factoring pay?”
“It doesn’t,” parry, pause, “but I do get the gratification of doing a humiliatingly bad job of it so far today.”
“I’ve had days like that, today was almost one of them. You see this rather beautiful girl walked right into the middle of this very bad situation that I was supposed to fix. . .” He caught her eyes briefly, “Though I think she won’t let it happen again. Maybe I could give her my number, so she could call me if anymore dark and dirty situations come to her attention. What do you think?”
Yllera blushed again and felt warm, “She might appreciate that.”
Sanctuary Falling Page 2
