by Elana Brooks
“Must it be a reproductive relationship, or potentially so? What of those depicted in your broadcasts who mate with those who produce the same gametes, such that they cannot conceive young together?”
Keiko almost answered, but caught herself. “What’s the name of the next in rank?”
“Rolex.” Dovex waited expectantly.
Keiko pictured an expensive gold watch on the mule driver’s wrist. “Yes, people in same-sex relationships can form soul bonds. The possibility of reproduction isn’t necessary.”
“Exactly how is a bond created?”
The memory of the most glorious moment of her life smote Keiko, as fresh as if it had happened yesterday instead of ten years ago. She swallowed hard. “That’s extremely valuable information. I want three names in return.”
Dovex didn’t hesitate. “Faydex, Verthex, Hannex.”
Keiko wondered if she could have gotten more from him in exchange. Too late now. She imagined the watch face fading away, to be replaced by a point of a triangle. The triangle became an A-frame building with a small chamber attached to its side.
She ran through the series of images and associated list of names again. When she was sure she had them all correct and in the correct order, she took a deep breath and remembered.
“All you do is look into each other’s eyes. When you’re in very close physical and mental contact, it’s as if you can see beyond your beloved’s physical eyes, and even their astral eyes, into their soul. Their true soul, that exists beyond time and space, beyond both the physical and astral universes. We call our astral form our soul, sometimes, but it’s not, or not entirely. This is what lived before conception and will persist after death. And yet it exists only and always in the present moment. Even those of us who’ve seen it don’t understand it. But when I looked into Solomon’s eyes, I saw him, and he saw me. We desired to be one, and we became so. Now we are a single soul in two bodies. A single being made up of two individuals. Neither of us lost anything. We each gained all the other’s self added to our own.”
She fell silent, aching for the part of her soul that was so terribly far away. Dovex, too, was silent. His eyes were distant, and all his fins rippled slowly and rhythmically.
Finally he dipped his head to her. “You’ve given me much to contemplate. I’ll return later, and we’ll conduct more exchanges of information. If you remain willing.”
Keiko felt as if she’d just completed an exhausting karate match. Dovex was a worthy opponent. Sparring with him again would be challenging but rewarding. “Yes.”
“Farewell until that time.” Dovex flicked his middle fins at her and swam through the wall.
Chapter 7
Present
The break room door opened. The roar of the massive crowds packing the halls of the convention center grew abruptly deafening. Rosalia turned away from the TV that she and the rest of the screening session instructors were glued to. “Shut the—“
Steve ducked through the door and closed it behind him, blocking out most of the noise. “Hello.”
She jumped to her feet, then froze, wanting to rush to him but at the same time desperate to maintain at least a little distance. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in person.”
“I only found out a few hours ago. I didn’t contact you because I didn’t want to interrupt one of your sessions again.” He gestured at the door. “Looks like things are about as crazy as we expected.”
“Yeah. Even before the press conference was over, people started showing up. You were great, by the way.”
He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Do you have enough security and administrative support?”
“They seem to be handling it.” Suddenly Rosalia remembered she wasn’t alone. She turned to the rest of the instructors, who were gaping at Steve. They might not have recognized him before this morning, but after the way he’d taken command of the press conference, everyone in the Covenant knew his face. “Hey, everybody. This is Steve Miller, one of the Eight. Steve, let me introduce you to my coworkers.”
Rosalia went around the room, introducing him to each of the others. Most of them she’d only met that morning. Headquarters had sent them to join the screening group in anticipation of today’s hugely increased need. Steve was gracious and complimentary. Over and over he thanked them for filling such a vital role in the Covenant’s mission. They beamed in star-struck wonder that one of the Covenant’s leaders would deign to take notice of them.
Rosalia couldn’t fault Steve’s manner, but something about the way everyone treated him with so much deference, almost awe, rankled. He might be stronger psychically than any of them, but they’d all taken the same vows he had. He wasn’t some sort of Hollywood celebrity. The movie studios were across town.
He didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. In this epic, he was the star, and they were nothing but extras. Which made her the love interest, she supposed. She snorted to herself. Undoubtedly he expected her to swoon before his manly, heroic charm and ride off with him into the sunset. After he rescued her from the mustache-twirling villain, of course.
When she finished the introductions, he turned to her. “Do you need me to take a session or two?”
“Not really. We’ve got someone in every room. But I could use help with mine. Since I’ve got the most experience I took the biggest hall, and I’ve been having trouble getting to everyone during the final meditation. Last time I ran five minutes over, and I wasn’t nearly as thorough as I like to be.”
His smile was quick and bright. “I’d be glad to. Let me change into my workout clothes and we can get started.”
She directed him to the men’s bathroom and returned to the television. All normal programs were preempted in favor of endless recaps of the morning’s revelations and constant inane analysis and speculation by every news anchor and reporter who’d ever talked into a camera. Right now a famous scientist who’d appeared in a series of popular documentaries was expounding on the impossibility of various elements of the Eight’s announcement, starting with psychic powers and continuing through alien life and interstellar travel.
The interviewer asked, “What about Dr. Steve Miller, one of the Covenant’s spokespeople? Isn’t he a scientist, too?”
The scientist sneered politely. “Earning a psychology degree doesn’t make someone an expert on physics and biology. I’m afraid Dr. Miller is in far over his head. I suggest he take some remedial courses if what these crackpots claim accords with his understanding of science.”
“Ouch,” Steve said as he came up beside her. “Think he should be the next one I give a demonstration to? I could turn him upside down and shake him until all the money they paid him to insult me falls out of his pockets.”
Rosalia chuckled. “I’d watch.”
Steve laughed, but it was muted, and he quickly fell silent. After watching for a few more minutes, he grimaced and shook his head. “I’m sure Sarthex will have a good laugh at our expense about four hours from now. The Seraphim are monitoring our broadcasts, you know. They’ll see how divided we are.”
“Does it matter? It’s not as if they can exploit our divisions.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Sarthex to find a way.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better head on over so we can greet the next bunch of victims—I mean candidates—when they arrive.”
Rosalia led him through the tightly packed throngs, clearing a path with subtle telekinetic nudges when necessary, to the vast room where she was holding her classes. Every square inch of floor space was covered with thin foam yoga mats in a variety of colors. At least half of them were already occupied.
Rosalia pointed toward the back of the room. “Could you set up over there? That way they’ll have someone to look at when I’ve got them turned around. During meditation you can start from the back and I’ll start from the front and we’ll meet in the middle.”
“I’m on it. Got any extra mats?”
“By the table.” Rosalia pointed to wh
ere her normal two assistants had been joined by three more, all of them busily checking people in and assigning them mat numbers.
He went over, picked up a rolled mat, and strolled between the rows, greeting people and thanking them for coming to be screened. Rosalia went to her mat and sat down. Maybe she should talk to the students also, but she was already tired and the day was only half over. She closed her eyes, pressed her palms together, and focused on an advanced breathing exercise.
When it was time to start, she checked in telepathically with Steve, who’d unrolled his mat and squeezed it into a space at the back of the room. He indicated his readiness, so she rose, called the class to order, and began.
The atmosphere today was electric. People listened far more intently than usual to what she said, but at the same time they were distracted and hard to control. Conversations kept breaking out which she had to quell. Steve helped her, going to the worst offenders and speaking to them quietly. No one made any more trouble after one of his visits.
The meditation induction took longer than usual, but eventually everyone calmed down and settled into trances. Because Steve was there to help, Rosalia pushed the visualization all the way to full astral separation. They might catch a few more borderline talents that way, and Steve was strong enough to deal handily with any incidents.
None occurred, but Rosalia identified six strong talents, a dozen minor ones, and one elderly Chinese gentleman who remained bound to his body only at the head. She noted his mat number with excitement. He’d be a valuable addition to the Covenant.
Steve met her in the middle and smiled at her excited report. “Ten minors and seven majors on my end. Let’s get these folks moving out so the next lot can shuffle in.”
Rosalia returned to her body and began the spiel which would reunite the candidates with their bodies and call everyone back to normal consciousness. She was aware of Steve’s warm, supportive presence the whole time.
When everyone was sitting up, Rosalia said, “Would the students on mats 47, 212, 256…”—she reeled off the rest of the numbers—“please exit through the marked door. You’ll be met by guides with further instructions. Everyone else, the Covenant of the Rainbow thanks you for your willingness to serve humanity. At this time we don’t have need of your service. But in the near future we’ll be calling for volunteers for other vital tasks, so please watch your e-mail for further communication from HBQ. Again, thank you. You’re dismissed.” She pressed her hands together and bowed. “Namaste.”
Many of the students returned the salute, but others just jumped or climbed to their feet, some relieved, more disappointed or disgruntled. Rosalia kept a smile on her face, even as the muttered complaints reached her. “What can they tell from one hour-long exercise class, anyway?” “Nobody even asked about what I can do!” “What did they do that I didn’t?” “You were way better than that old guy. Half the time he looked like he was about to fall over!” “Where do I go to file a complaint?”
The new procedure they’d implemented today might get the recruits into training more quickly—they’d be taken immediately to private rooms for their initial session—but Rosalia didn’t like it. Everyone else knew they’d been judged and found unworthy. The old way, when no one knew they were being evaluated and candidates with promise were contacted privately afterward, didn’t result in this kind of negative reaction.
She rose, made sure all the candidates they’d identified were on their way to the door on the far side of the room, directed one who looked confused, and headed for the main door. She spoke pleasantly with the most persistent of the grumblers, referring them to the form on HBQ’s website where they could submit their complaints. On the other side of the shrinking crowd, Steve was doing the same thing.
They met as the last of those rejected shuffled out the door. Rosalia grinned at Steve. “Thanks to your help, we’re done a few minutes early. We’ll have time to get a good rest in before the next session.”
“I’ll be happy to stay and help with that one, too. All day, if you need me.”
“I’m hoping the craziness will die down after dark.”
“I think it’s more likely to get worse as news spreads and people get off work and head over here to find out what’s going on.”
She grimaced. “I hope you’re wrong, but I’m afraid you’re right.”
Steve held the door open for her. Usually she would have rebuked him for the sexist assumption that she wasn’t strong enough to get it herself. But today she was exhausted after leading so many sessions one after the other. He’d had a nice long time to relax on the plane. Let him do the work if he wanted; she’d save her strength for more important tasks.
She stepped out into the glare of TV lights. A woman stuck a microphone in her face. “We’ve had reports that one of the people from this morning’s press conference has come to Los Angeles. Is this true?”
Rosalia was furious at the intrusion, but she tried not to scowl. It was important to maintain HBQ’s image. “I’d rather not—“
Steve stepped up beside her and smiled broadly at the reporter. “I believe you’re looking for me.”
The reporter responded the way all women did when Steve smiled—with preening pleasure at the attention and simpering flirtatiousness. “Dr. Steve Miller? Do you mind answering a few questions?”
“Not at all.” He shifted his smile to the camera. Rosalia plastered a fake smile across her own face and prepared to endure the interview. Not that she’d get to talk. If she was very lucky, the reporter would ask her to confirm whatever Steve said. Rosalia would, of course. Her duty to the Covenant demanded it. But she didn’t have to like how everyone gravitated to him as the natural authority, ignoring the one who’d been running this portion of the screening program since long before he showed up.
The reporter plied Steve with breathless questions. Anyone who’d been paying attention to the press conference would already know the answers. But Steve showed no signs of impatience. He repeated the same information that had already been given, only varying the wording slightly. The reporter ate it up, and so did the mass of people crowded around the bright circle, hanging on his every word.
Steve guided the reporter and cameraman toward the main registration table. “The Covenant welcomes everyone who wants to be evaluated. But please, visit our website first and reserve a time slot. As you can see, the crowds are huge, and there are only a small number of places available for those without prior reservations.” He waved, and the camera obediently swept over the long line of people that snaked back on itself dozens of times and the harried-looking staff behind the tables talking earnestly with those who’d finally reached the front after hours of waiting. “You can save yourselves unnecessary inconvenience and us unnecessary work by—“
A great rush of wind swept through the hall. Rosalia’s ponytail whipped around her face. People screamed and ducked. Every sheet of paper on the registration table flew into the air.
The wind stilled, but instead of settling, the papers swirled into a cloud over the table. The camera tracked them. Everyone in the crowd gaped as they danced without regard to gravity. After a long moment of chaos, the cloud separated into sections and arranged itself into towering block letters: HBQ LIES.
Steve’s thought flashed into Rosalia’s mind. Telekinesis. Find the one responsible while I distract them. He raised his hands and bellowed, “Show yourself, coward! The Covenant will answer legitimate criticism, but we won’t be terrorized by anonymous troublemakers!”
Rosalia slipped away, scanning the space with eyes and mind. The culprit couldn’t be far away. Such a large, dramatic use of telekinesis could only be performed by a powerful psychic, and only at close range. Each individual sheet of paper was light, but there were thousands of them, and they were being manipulated with expert control. Steve or one of the other members of the Eight could probably do it, but Rosalia doubted she could, at least on so grand a scale. This wasn’t someone new to their powers,
either. It took years to develop that sort of finesse, no matter how strong your native gifts were.
The papers broke apart and re-formed into a new message. HBQ WANTS WAR.
There, just inside the doors that led out of the building. A slim figure in jeans and a dark sweatshirt, hood pulled forward to conceal his or her face. One hand was slightly raised toward the swirling papers, and the upturned face within the hood stared at them. Rosalia wormed through the crowd, trying to get close without alerting her opponent.
The figure twitched its hand. Out of the corner of her eye Rosalia saw the papers swirl again. She risked a quick look as they stilled. ANGEL WANTS PEACE.
Rosalia jerked her attention back to the figure. She still hadn’t been noticed. Just a little closer, and she could grab their mysterious opponent telekinetically.
Again the hand moved and the papers flew. Again Rosalia turned to look. ANGEL TELLS THE TRUTH.
She was almost close enough. She didn’t dare strike too soon, because the stranger was clearly far stronger than she and would break away at the least chance. If she acted swiftly and caught the figure by surprise, she ought to be able to hold on until Steve could add his strength to hers. Surely together they’d be a match for the stranger.
Once more movement swirled in her peripheral vision. Rosalia took three quick steps forward, then risked a peek. Not words, this time. A symbol floated in the air, an abstract winged humanoid inside a circle.
Rosalia stared. The symbol burned in her eyes and brain. She didn’t remember ever seeing it before, but it meant something to her. Something profoundly important.
She tore her eyes away and wrenched around. The figure dropped its hand and backed rapidly toward the doors. The crowd’s spellbound silence splintered into urgent babbling as papers fluttered everywhere. Rosalia cursed and raced after the figure, throwing all her psychic strength into a desperate telekinetic grab.
