Galactic Storm

by Morgan Blayde

  “Not those,” Max said. “You gotta coordinate with your new clothes. Try the brown trooper-style shades with gold wire frame.”

  “Trooper-style?”

  Max felt him pulling the image from her thoughts.

  “You mean these?” He slid the lens on and turned to Max. “Well?”

  “It’s the bomb!”

  “Bomb?”

  “Totally yummers.”

  “That’s a good thing?”

  “Sure. Come along, now. We have to hit the sports store and get some leather sneakers so we can own the court.”

  “Who’s court?” Commander Hardrune asked.

  “Any court,” Max said. “We’re gonna rule.”

  “Of course, you are the Guardian.”

  Max nodded; feeling a touch on her thoughts at the conversation went into silent mode. Yeah? Something wrong?

  Commander Hardrune sent her an impression of a great dark shaggy beast. It sniffed the wind hopefully, its stomach rumbling loudly. Need food. There’s a lot of me to feed, you know?”

  All right, we’ll also hit the food court, Max decided, and take no prisoners.

  Good, Jhoori joined the discussion. I, too, am thinning with hunger and perishing mightily as we touch thoughts.

  Max looked down at the extra-wide alien, and packed her thought with jovial irony. Yeah, I can tell. All right. A glint of determination danced in her eyes. This is a job for deep-dish pizza.

  They drifted out of the store. Max waved as her mom appeared in the distance. Mrs. Bright had Twila in tow, dressed in a new outfit, an eye-searing paisley skirt of orange and yellow, trimmed in red, black boots, and a new blue denim jacket. Both parties merged in a crescendo of excited babble.

  Max showed off her loot, and explained their intentions to hit a shoe store and a pizza stand at the food court.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Mrs. Bright said.

  “Where’s Dad,” Max asked. “Is he going to join us?”

  “Not for a while,” her mom said. “He still has a little work to do at the new store, and he said something about scheduling a nervous breakdown.” She smiled slightly. “I’m almost certain he was only joking.”

  Max froze in place, hit by a sudden urgent thought: Guardian!

  She recognized the texture. It was Jhoori. What’s wrong? She spun, trying to spot the short-but-wide alien. He came around a corner, running with a silver tray in his hands. On the tray were little paper cups with pieces of cut up pretzels on them, layered with cheese or various sauces.

  Pursuing Jhoori was lanky teenager in an apron. “Stop,” he yelled. “You’re not supposed to eat them all.” Behind the teenager were several rent-a-cops, night sticks in hand.

  Jhoori slid to a stop, whipping around to hide behind Commander Hardrune.

  What did you do? Hardrune asked.

  Nothing! I was walking along and he stopped me with an offering of refreshments. I accepted the platter and began to feast when he grew strangely indignant, attempting to reclaim what had become mine. Not wanting to kill him, I thought it best to disengage from the situation. As I left, he became hysterical and summoned the guards.

  The teenager braked, seeing that the little guy had a gang. Max read his apron logo: PRETZEL HUT.

  “Security!” Pretzel Boy shrieked. “We need back-up here.”

  Mindy hurried forward to settle thing down.

  “Hey Max!”

  Max paused, hearing a familiar voice. I am getting so popular.

  “MIGAWD! Is that you? You’ve changed.”

  It was Kim, with Jeffrey in tow. Max hadn’t seen them since the bus crash. Guilt washed over her in a monster wave. Jeffrey had an arm in a sling, and Kim was toting packages for him.

  Commander Hardrune’s mental voice flowered in her head. You didn’t blow up the bus. There’s no need for guilt.

  “I was still the reason.”

  “The reason for what?” her mom asked.

  “Did I say that out loud?” Max asked.

  “Yes, dear. Now, what are you stewing about? Come clean.”

  “The bus wreck this morning. It might have been partly my fault.”

  “What part of it?” Twila asked.

  “Well, maybe all of it.”

  Mrs. Bright paled. “My Gawd, Max!”

  “Not on purpose. Hostages to fortune. This stone,” she grabbed her necklace, “People want it over my dead body!”

  “It’s all right, Max. We have your back,” Jeff said.

  Max looked up at Jeffrey’s reassuring words. Apparently, he’d been close enough to hear her confession.

  He said, “I don’t see how you could ever be responsible for anyone getting hurt.”

  “You were targeted because of me. Your arm…!” she said.

  “What about my head,” Kim said. “I need sympathy too. I’ve still got ringing in my ears and the mother of all headaches.”

  “I wish there was something I could do but…” Max shrugged helplessly.

  Why don’t you heal them? Hardrune asked.

  Yeah, she thought. I’ll just wave my magic wand and…

  If it was me, I’d use the Star, he said, shrugging.

  The Star can do that?

  You are its only limitation, the captain said.

  Max huffed. “Why doesn’t someone tell me these things? There should be an owner’s manual for this necklace.”

  The Voice appeared in her thoughts along its own channel. There is. All you have to do is touch the recorded thought patterns of those within. The essence of the previous owners will answer all your questions.

  Max flashed back to her morning transformation in front of her mother, when she slipped into a weird dimension, haunted by an emerald-eyed specter. She’d been told that she could return as needed to use that timeless non-space. I guess you’re right, she admitted. But I have been busy.

  A mental analog to Hardrune’s warm rumbly chuckle bounced around inside her head as she turned to her mother. “After we’re done here, I’d like to go to the hospital. It’s time to set right whatever I can. That’s why I have the Star.”

  Max reached out and touched Jeffery’s broken arm. Golden fire ignited her hand but he didn’t recoil. Her eyes beamed. Unseen winds of static lifted her hair. She brightened, as if lit from within, while current jagged over her. Mindy’s camera went into overdrive.

  A new channel formed in Max’s head. A rapid-fire series of images and sensory impressions passed between her and Jeffrey as they connected. She felt a momentary drain as he ignited, but it wasn’t severe.

  Healed, the new Light Born stripped off the unneeded sling. It dropped from his hand.

  “You’ve become Light Born. I didn’t know that would happen, too,” Max said. “I’ve stolen your future...”

  Jeffrey’s own gleaming hand caressed her check, silencing her guilty ramblings. He leaned in and kissed her lightly. “It’s Okay, Max. I’ve gained a new future as well.”

  “What about me?” Kim protested. “I still have my headache.”

  “Alright,” Max grinned. “You asked for it.”

  SIXTEEN

  The station wagon pulled into temp parking outside the hospital’s Emergency Area. Max said, “Wait here, Mom. The fewer of us that go in, the less fuss we’ll make.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, besides, I can’t ask you to hold my hand forever.”

  Her mom sighed. “You were this way when you started first grade, too. All right, dear. But take the big guy along in case of trouble and try not to blow up the building, okay?”

  “Mom! Why do you keep saying things like that?”

  “Just kidding. I swear, you teenagers have no sense of humor.”

  “Count me in as well,” Lieutenant Chan said. “This I gotta see.”

  Kim and Jeffrey murmured vague farewells around wedges of pizza. Max didn’t blame them for being distracted by food. She remembered the sharp hunger that went along with her own initial change to bec
oming Light Born. Maybe keeping her thin would turn out to be the silver lining behind the dark cloud of the galactic nebula that had swallowed up the world.

  She opened the car door and slid out. Facing the hospital’s automatic double doors, she drew a deep, preparatory breath. Her eyes closed. Her face lifted, as if to catch a wind-blown song nearly too faint to hear. She held an image of flames in her mind, wreathing her body, and gave herself an order, “Ignite!”

  Damn, that makes me feel like a Hollywood superhero.

  Hanging on its chain, her jewel washed her features with golden energy. She felt power flooding every cell and lost herself in its ecstasy for a moment. This could get addictive, she decided.

  Opening her eyes, Max found Lieutenant Chan and Commander Hardrune lined up on either side of her. “Let’s go.” She pushed forward; golden, shining, glorious, storming the building, sweeping into the waiting area like a rock star. She had no authority to interfere with the caregiving, so she hoped pure attitude would carry her. She started with those seated, waiting for medical attention to get to them.

  Max’s hands fluttered with a will of their own, seeking, touching soft as a butterfly’s kiss. She passed like a dream before the sick and injured had time to understand the sudden absence of pain.

  Voices rose in a babble of wonder in her wake as patients removed unneeded bandages, ice packs, abandoning wheelchairs and crutches. Many of them wept in release. Some rushed from the hospital. Others chased her, reaching for the golden girl.

  Chan and Hardrune kept them back as Max proceeded with her unscheduled tour. There were some curtained off areas where the more seriously injured received treatment. She swept in and touched. Open wounds closed. The unconscious stirred awake. Strength returned as ailments ghosted away.

  The nurses and doctors were left staring. And then left behind. She left the emergency room for the main hospital, a crowd growing behind her.

  So much for no fuss.

  An orderly stepped in front of her. “Hey, You! What are you doing? This is a hospital, you know? We try to keep it quiet here.”

  He grabbed her arm and a webbing of current danced over him, spinning him away. He crashed into a wall with a heated curse, as Max swept on. “Sorry, but no girl likes being touched so rudely.”

  Word spread ahead of her. The halls filled with a desperate clutching humanity that was no longer quiet in its desperation. Their voices rent the air.

  Security arrived.

  Lieutenant Chan moved forward to calm the situation. He passed through the waving hands, jostled, unresisting. The crowd grew angry as nothing happened.

  “He’s not the one,” someone yelled.

  “The golden girl has the touch that heals.”

  A litany of body parts followed: “My heart. My kidneys. Touch my knee—damned gout…!”

  Max rose, standing on a ball of light. It lifted her above the confusion, bringing her eyes level with those of Commander Hardrune. Her glow brightened. Beams of light fanned out before her. Most of the patients shielded their faces, as the energy flooded their cells.

  A man in a wheelchair stared blindly into the light as greater changes took hold of him. Max recognized Mr. Packard, the bus driver. He closed his eyes. The muscles of his jaw clenched as he leaned forward in his chair, hands shoving against the armrests. His legs trembled at first, but soon steadied as the golden light washed through him. Max felt a new presence in her thoughts, a new channel.

  How many more channels can I handle, before I lose the thoughts that are mine?

  A flood of images passed before her mind’s eye tore her from introspection. She saw the man’s family and friends—all the people that gave his life meaning. It shocked her to find her own face prominent in the mix. Mr. Packard walked forward and a sheath of light glistened over his skin.

  Max felt a massive drain. Birthing a Light Born took a lot more out of her than the healing. She felt faint. Her face dropped into her hand as her eyes closed. Exhaustion stole her vitality. Darkness swooped close. She held it off by force of will.

  The commander drew her in and held her. His glow faltered, beating erratically as he returned power to Max.

  She stirred and smiled. “Thanks. That’s better.” She felt used up, wrung out. She yawned. “I think that’s all I can do right now. Take me back to the car. I want to go home.”

  Mr. Packard said, “Can I come over later? I have so many questions. I feel changed. I don’t understand what’s happened. It’s a good thing though, I think.”

  “Sure,” Max said. “Guess this is my night for collecting new Light Born. I’m just glad this doesn’t happen every time I heal somebody.”

  Hardrune said, “At some point, the Star will cut off the collecting, balancing your needs against the needs of your office.

  “Let’s go outside by an indirect route,” Chan said. “We don’t want to lead an exodus of patients out of here. If they surround the car, we’ll be stuck here dealing with crowd control forever. The police and media will get involved.”

  “Link hands with me around the Guardian,” Hardrune said.

  They did. A circuit formed. A gold shell of light lifted the four gently into the air. They flashed down the hall, the top of the sell grazing the ceiling. The hall opened into a vaulted chamber, a hub to the rest of the hospital wings. There, they took a sudden upward turn, flashing past a bank of elevators. A spear of light, they phased harmlessly through the ceiling, into open air above the hospital.

  Mr. Packard eyes went impossibly wide at the experience. “If I wasn’t whatever it is I am now, ghosting through that roof would have given me a heart attack.”

  “I must say,” Chan added, “It caught me a bit unprepared as well.”

  Commander Hardrune made no apology. “Best way to learn how to swim,” he said, “is to have someone toss you in.”

  “It’s a good way to drown too,” Chan said.

  Hardrune said, “Real action could still break loose. If so, it will come fast and furious. I don’t have the luxury of bringing anyone up to speed at a comfortable pace. Not if I know Ashere.”

  “I thought we had her covered,” Max said.

  “It went way too easy,” Hardrune said. “I have both doubts and dread suspicion. Ah, we’re there.”

  Max looked through the golden sphere at the roof of her mom’s car as they settled earthward. “I guess it was the right thing to have gone in with only us three. Mom gets really protective of me sometimes. I’m surprised she has tried to wrap me in bubble wrap.”

  The sphere faded. Max dropped an inch to the pavement. Recovering, she stepped over to the station wagon, opened the door, and followed Mr. Chan in.

  Commander Hardrune and Mr. Packard remained outside. “This Packard and I will fly back, giving you an aerial escort.”

  “All right,” Max settled in next to Jeffery and Kim. The door closed. The car rumbled to life. They backed out of their parking spot and rolled toward the street.

  “So, how’d it go dear?” Mrs. Bright asked.

  “Pretty well. But there was just so much I could do. I hit a wall and had to stop.”

  “Well, at least you’re still conscious. You seem to building up your tolerance for this weird energy of yours.”

  “I think you’re right. So we head home now, right?”

  “I think that’s wise,” Mrs. Bright said. “I have the feeling that this has been a small lull before a breaking storm. When the rest of the world finds out about all this, hordes will descended.”

  “Hordes?” A new threat? Twila wondered.

  “Curiosity-seekers, press, opportunists, and government trolls ad nausium,” Mrs. Bright answered.

  “I can’t do too much about the government types,” Lieutenant Chan said, “but my men will deal with the rest, and if all else fails, you still have the Light Born. I can’t see paparazzi or bureaucrats getting past them.”

  But I did. Twila felt no pride at her infiltration.

  “No one will
get to the Guardian, not on my watch,” Jhoori piped from the back of the station wagon. “Are we there yet?”

  “Not yet,” Kim answered.

  “These ground transports of yours are slow,” the short alien continued. “You want me to fix the engine so it attains hyper-sonic speeds?” he offered.

  “Yeah!” Max said.

  “NO!” Mrs. Bright squelched the idea. “The men in our family are dangerous enough behind the wheel as it is.”

  Not Tommy, Twila protested in the privacy of her thoughts. He couldn’t hurt a Rigelian snippet in full sprout. It was strange how the Terran had become a major factor in her current decisions. Hanging before her inner eye, his image generated a force that entangled her rampant feelings, serving as a new box for them.

  Twila couldn’t think of how to deal with Max without fearing Tommy’s probable reaction. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did.

  The logic was merciless: she had to act. If Max didn’t die that night, the world would be destroyed by morning. Twila could certainly save Tommy, smuggling him onto one of the University Ships before evacuation. Off world, they might be able to build something together, but the ghost of his sister, his whole planet, would forever hang between them. Twila had seen enough soap operas to know that.

  And if Twila killed Max to save Tommy and billions of others… He could even hate the sight of me. The logic of the heart is different from the logic of the head. Far more unreasonable.

  There had to be some third path, an option that made everybody happy. In a sudden burst of dreadful inspiration, she saw it clearly. Her eyes darkened with fear. If Ashere were to die… No! Twila shook her head absently, deep in thought. Even if she could summon the will, she wasn’t powerful enough to do the job. Ashere would love an opportunity to chew her up and spit her out, as humans say.

  So, where does that leave me? Anywhere?

  “You’re awfully quiet, Twila,” Mrs. Bright said, “even for you. Is everything all right?”

  The question focused Twila on her surroundings. “I’m fine. Thanks.” She offered the older woman the shadow of a smile then turned her head to look out the window. They were making good time, but not exceeding the speed limit. Other vehicles streaked by them, blissfully unaware of impending doom. So many lives, so close to extinction…