Trust has to begin somewhere, she thought.
The resistance eased, melted. She received an impulse of hesitant agreement. A moment later, the barrier fell and the Light Born dimmed their coronas. Max opened her eyes to encounter Mr. Chan’s intense gaze. “How about that?” she asked.
He looked at the space where the dome had been and nodded. “That will do.”
Max turned and led the way. Still encased in a haze of golden energy, the Light Born parted before her and her guests. Max grinned, hearing a choked, “My Gawd”, from the commander as he got a close look at the aliens.
“Those aren’t fancy masks!” the commander said. “They’re aliens from that fleet in orbit.”
“Obviously,” Mr. Chan said. “Close your sagging jaw and come along.”
As Max walked back into her house, she noticed a clean carpet. Someone had been at work, not the reporter—he was gone. Probably Twila. Tommy didn’t believe males should do housework. She saw him running her way.
“Max! You’re alive!”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Why? You blew—ulp!”
Tommy was stopped just short of embracing Max. His sweater was tight across his throat, held in back by Twila. He lost his footing and crashed to the floor as his sweater was released.
“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” he demanded hoarsely, rolling over to stare back.”
Wow, Max thought. She’s a lot stronger than she looks.
“Just sparing you another shock,” Twila explained. “You needn’t thank me.”
“Thank you? For strangling me?”
Twila rolled her eyes with exaggerated care, as if it was a gesture she’d practiced many times. “She’s still energized. If you had hit Max, her power would have flared up and hurled you across the room, through the furniture, and possibly through a wall as well.”
“Oops,” Max said. “My bad.” She closed her eyes, and the golden glow dancing along her flesh faded out. Her hair settled down her back. Max kneeled beside Tommy. He grabbed her in a desperate hug, crushing her, then thrust her back to stare in her yes. “Don’t ever do that to me again. I was scared to death for you.”
“Sorry, my bad.”
He didn’t listen to whatever she was going to say next. He hugged her again.
Max didn’t normally indulge in such displays with her brother. She found she enjoyed the attention. But something was wrong. Her thoughts began to dance off-center. A shiver passed through her. “Tommy, I feel…feel funny…”
She felt Tommy’s hold relax as he looked her over. “Max? Can you hear me? What’s wrong?” A cold hard thumb pried up her eyelids one at a time. Max saw Twila’s face filling her vision.
“She’s barely conscious,” the girl said, “but apparently, not in pain—there’s no dilation of her pupils. If I had to guess…”
“What?” Tommy demanded.
“I’d say she’s worn herself out, channeling way too much energy, way too long without letting her body acclimate. Get some food into her, let her rest…and she should be fine.” Though younger than himself, Tommy looked clearly impressed by Twila’s knowing, calm assurance; gratitude was evident in his face as he spoke. “Thanks. I’ll see that she takes care of herself…or else.” Tommy shifted under Max.
A moment later, she felt herself lifted and carried to the couch. She lay there a good half hour. Slowly, a measure of strength returned.
Intermittently, Mr. Chan sat on the edge of the couch, keeping an eye on her. He’d get up now and then and talk with the SWAT commander, or sometimes the girl with three breasts. Strong attraction there.
Twila brought her a bottle of water from the kitchen. Max could almost forget her very pale coloration. Almost. She was thinking they might ought to make sure Twila was really a—
Mr. Chan walked by, blocking her view. Max didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she was right there. And he were right there. And the SWAT commander was right there.
“There are no guards in here with these people,” Mr. Chan said. “I see no signs of duress, or ill-treatment. You can’t call this a hostage situation.”
“But the terrorist attacks we’ve suffered have employed off-world technology,” the commander replied in an inadvertently loud whisper. “And those are aliens outside. There’s an obvious connection.”
“I agree. All I’m saying is, let’s not be hasty until we know what it is. Ah! The food’s here.”
“Food!” Max demanded, driven upright by the savage hunger of a growling stomach. “I could eat a horse. With ketchup of course.”
“Ah, coming out of it, eh?” Mr. Chan said. “We’re all out of horse. You’ll have to settle for your usual, a bacon cheese burger with onion rings.”
“Sounds like heaven. Just don’t let Tommy get to the bags first—there’ll be nothing left for the rest of us.”
“I heard that, you shrimp taco.” Tommy loomed over her. He handed her a burger. “Shuddup and eat somethin’.” He handed out wrapped sandwiches.
The commander took one and unwrapped it. He lifted the bun, inspected the layered elements underneath. He took a sniff, then a bite, as if fast-food were a rarity to his diet. A second larger bite followed. “This is good.”
“I hope the aliens outside think so,” Mr. Chan said. “You know how much money I can make on off-world franchises?”
There was a crackle of static and a voice emerged from SWAT commander’s radio.
“Yeah, what is it,” he asked.
“We’ve got a woman out here. She says she lives here.” “Send her through,” the commander said. “And tell the men to relax and hold position. The situation is stable if not contained. Besides, what can we really do if these aliens just up and flew away, eh?”
Mr. Chan turned his face to Max. Most of her burger was gone. He nodded. “Your color is better. “You feel like talking now?”
Regretfully, Max dropped the rest of her food back on its wrapper. “Sure.”
Max began at the beach with the falling Star, the crashing wave, and following riptide that nearly killed her. She glossed through the floating episode in the hall, the visit to subspace, and her physical changes. She told them about the mechamorph hovering over the school bus, and the attack that flipped it. She glossed over her own heroics.
By the time she got to the fire at the school, her mom was in the house. Confused introductions delayed the rest of the tale. Max hurriedly devoured her sandwich, and hollered at Tommy to surrender her onion rings and drink.
Finally, Max was encouraged to continue. Her mother stayed glued to her side, while Tommy and Twila put the groceries away.
Max wrapped things up, and lost herself in her lunch as the adults around her argued back and forth. As adults are accustomed to do. The commander was skeptical of many things. Max chomped into some onion rings.
Hey, if I have to believe it, so do you, she thought to herself.
The commander’s radio squealed. He answered it. “What is it, now?”
“Sir, we have an escalation out here!”
“Those aliens giving you trouble?”
“Not them, Sir. It’s their mother spaceship, hanging over quite a few blocks. You’d think the Air Force would have stopped it from getting through…”
Commander Hardrune snorted, muttering, “As if.”
Max touched thoughts with him, and turned to her mom. “It’s All right,” Max said. “They’re just delivering the new door.”
“New…door…?” the commander said.
“Yeah,” Max said. “Didn’t you notice we had one missing when you came in?”
“These people seem to hold you in high regard,” Mr. Chan observed.
“They worship the ground I walk on. It’s the Star I wear. Whoever controls it has a whole lot of pull with this Galactic League of theirs. In fact, Commander Hardrune is here to invite our world to join the League as a full member, waving the usual probationary period. He may even throw in a free toaster oven.”
&nbs
p; His thoughts touched hers. I am?
She ignored him. “Our brightest students will go off to the uh…”
“Galactic University,” Twila said, returning from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Max said. “To study their science and cultures. They’ll be sending us advisors, helping our society integrate their technology. It’s going to be way cool!”
Hardrune smiled. You don’t want much, do you?
Max continued ignoring him, sorta. “They’ll even teach us how to build our own ships…right, Captain?” Max fixed him with a potent stare, promising dire consequences if she were contradicted.
“Ummm, yes, of course,” he said. “Whatever the Guardian wishes.”
Max smiled at Mr. Chan. “You see how it is?” she asked.
He nodded. “I certainly do.” He rose along with SWAT commander and spoke as if Max were no longer there. “Max has just become the most valuable person on the planet. Our world’s winning ticket for the lottery to end all lotteries. Let’s go. I have a few generals I need to call. Maybe a president. Maybe I’ll get a medal for this.”
FOURTEEN
Max fell asleep on the couch. Later, she awoke to many changes. Though most of the Light Born were inside, several were stationed outside the front and back doors. One stood guard at each end of the couch, and another had the TV half dismantled, poking around its electronic guts.
Through her links, she quickly learned that her house had become a sort of semi-official embassy. Mr. Chan appeared, informing her that Bigwigs from Washington were coming west in Air Force Two. He expected members from the Joint-Chiefs-of-Staffs, Congress, and the Vice-President in a matter of hours. Meanwhile, the governor wanted to schedule a photo-op, and the police had withdrawn, leaving crowd control to the National Guard.
Mrs. Bright met the challenge her usual way; she baked. Max snagged a fresh cookie off a passing tray, and went in search of a bathroom. The downstairs facility was occupied. She grunted with displeasure and headed upstairs. In the upper hallway, she saw a piece of paper taped to her brother’s door. She detoured long enough to read it. Five words had been hastily scrawled with a Magic Marker. STAY OUT. THIS MEANS YOU!
Max smiled and chuckled softly. Despite the note, turned the knob and stuck her head in the room. There were no death traps to catch the unwary. The room was empty.
Ah! The note’s a bit of misdirection. He’s hiding out elsewhere, probably in the garage punching the bag or lifting weights. Maybe singing The Eye of the Tiger.
She took the note down, crumpled it, and tossed it onto his unkempt bed so he’d have something to fume about later. Max left the room.
I don’t think Tommy wants to admit that the world as we knew it is gone. Wonder what Dad will say about all this?
She reached the bathroom, and paused, sensing a non-human presence within. She knocked, and heard a chittering in reply. She opened the door. Inside, a giant termite paused in the act of consuming a length of toilet paper off the spool. Four spindly black legs supported a sickly yellow-white body. Its head turned her way. Red eyes glittered as it chittered, clacking mandibles. A faint rattling hung in the air as veined translucent wings vibrated. They looked far too small to provide any kind of serious lift.
But what do I know.
The day before, Max would have gone shrieking through the house, fearing for her life—but this was one of her Light Born. Her channel drew images of a thousand-foot rain forest with huge purple leaves that shielded the lower levels from the furnace heat of a red super-giant sun. There was a rich earth-smell, the cool of the nest, the sweet taste of the buried tubers. The touch of minds dispelled all need to be afraid.
Max generated a feeling of apology and regret to the Light Born and followed it up with a sense of her need for the room.
The termite took the hint, and the roll of toilet paper, as it left.
Max went in, locked the door behind her to assure her privacy, and replaced the roll.
After she finished her business and washed her hands, Max emerged into the hall. She saw Twila outside her brother’s room, peeking in. “He’s not there,” Max called. “Try the garage.”
Twila turned hastily, a kid caught with a paw in the cookie jar. “Max! How are you feeling?”
“Fine. A little closed in maybe. I wish I could get out of here for a while.”
“What’s stopping you?” Twila strolled closer.
“I don’t know. I have this feeling I can’t shake, like the whole world might stop forever if I don’t stay on top of it. But it’s been ages since I’ve been mall crawling…”
“I’d go ask Lieutenant Chin to arrange a trip. I think he’d do just about anything you asked of him. ‘Course he’ll want to send an escort along. The soldiers might get underfoot, but you’d be out and about.”
Max frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure the privilege would be worth the cost.”
“The weight of duty,” Twila produced an exaggerated sigh. “I guess pretty soon everyone will want to run your life for you all the time.”
“Yeah, I can see that much for myself. I suppose I should start drawing a few lines in the sand—demanding a little compensation, at least some consideration.” Max’s face brightened. “How about you, me, and Mom sneak out for a little fun? I’ll tell her you’re sleepin’ over, and need to get a few things from home. As long as we’re out anyway, it really wouldn’t hurt anything to hit the Mall. If we go now, we can be back before the curfew.”
“I’ll stay over,” Twila said, “but I really don’t need to stop at home first.”
“You gotta a bad scene there you’re tryin’ to avoid?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
“Good. Then I’ll go set it up.”
Max hurried away, dragging Twila along. They descended to the first floor and went to the kitchen, where Max went to work on her mom. Surprisingly, she was open to the idea. Her mom grabbed her purse and keys, and they headed for the garage.
“You know,” Max suggested half-heartedly, “we could just fly.”
“Oh, no, young lady,” her mom was adamant. “You’ve done quite enough buzzing about. We’re going to do things the normal way for a while and let your body get its strength back. Otherwise, we stay here.”
“Sure, Mom. Whatever you say.”
Passing through the living room, Max caught an inquiring thought from Commander Hardrune. It was accompanied by the image of a single star in an evening sky. Time accelerated. The sky darkened. Other stars appeared so that the first was no longer alone. She read it as an offer of company.
She declined, throwing back an image of too many bats fluttering in a small cave—of one of the batt flying out, free in the night.
He flashed her a memory of the mechamorph attack earlier, when he protected her with his own body. The Light Borns’ need to serve surged along all her channels. She couldn’t refuse.
All right, but only a few of you. We don’t need to make a spectacle of ourselves. We’re not an intergalactic circus, last time I checked.
She sensed agreement. But also caught an image of hawks circling high in a sky, ready to swoop down and wing-slap the bejesus outta a rattlesnake hiding under a bush.
By the time they reached the garage, Max found that Mr. Chan had invited himself along. He still looked strange to her in his Army fatigues. She had a hard time thinking of him as an officer.
“You don’t mind, I hope?” he asked.
Any problems with their being out and about during the present crisis were sure to evaporate in his presence. And it was her Godfather. “Don’t be silly. What’s one more?”
Max sent her Light Born escort—those that would be underfoot—to the back of the station wagon. Besides Hardrune, there was a three-foot high, extra wide humanoid from a heavy-gravity planet, and a woman with a jeweled mane who looked like a crystal sculpture modestly wrapped in a platinum shift.
Realizing she’d lost Twila somewhere, Max scanned the garage, and found her
over in a corner, hovering over Tommy as he ran through a set of reps on the weight bench. Sweat streaking his bare chest. Tommy spoke past clenched teeth as Max passed.
“Do you mind? I’m tryin’ to…kill myself…here,” he grunted.
Twila didn’t seem to get his desire to focus. She stood transfixed, staring, hands clasped before her. Her large violet eyes nearly shone in the gloom.
Max snagged her wrist. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Twila was dragged to the rumbling car, and stuffed through a side door. Max followed her in, as the garage door lifted.
“What’s with you,” Max asked. “Never seen anyone lift weights before?”
“Leave her alone,” Max’s mom said. “A girl can’t help where her heart takes her.”
Max’s eyes swelled with incredulity. “You like Tommy?”
“I…uh…” Twila seemed at a loss for an answer.
“Tommy?” max repeated.
“Maxine! I said leave her alone. There’s nothing unusual about a crush?”
“Well, I guess,” Max answered. “It’s just…Tommy?”
“He is a fine specimen,” Twila mumbled.
“Huh?” Max asked.
“Nothing,” Twila said.
Max let it drop; distracted by the gathering crowd outside: the media, the flashing cameras of curious bystanders. She was waiting for the popcorn venders to arrive. They were passed through a National Guard roadblock and fled their subdivision, reaching a main thoroughfare.
“Which way from here,” Mrs. Bright asked Twila. I know you’ll need some things if you’re staying over tonight.”
Twila provided precise driving details, as if she had a Garmin inside her head. They reached her place quickly due to light traffic and parked out front. Twila opened the door and slid out. “You guys wait here. I’ll be just a minute.”
“Hey,” Max said. “I wanted to come in and snoop around. This place is a regular mansion.”
“Stay here, Max. Keep an eye on your friends,” her mom said. “We wouldn’t want anyone exploding again. I’m going in to talk to Twila’s parents. They’ll probably want to meet whoever’s supervising your sleep-over.”
Galactic Storm Page 13
