by Haber, Karen
“Hmm. Good point.” Skerry stroked his beard. “Can you ever switch back and forth long enough to appear to be doing both?”
Michael snorted. “Maybe if I trained from birth, like that mutant girl in the Moscow circus. Jesus, that’s hard work, Skerry. I don’t know who could do it.” He paused. “But if your hunch is right, I’ll bet he can’t use multiple skills for long. It’s too hard. Like holding up a heavy weight in each hand. Sooner or later, one of your arms starts to shake.”
“I see what you mean.”
The meeting hall loomed up in the darkness, its halogen lamps casting yellow circles on the path before them. The doorway glowed with recessed lighting, like a beacon.
“Well?”
Skerry hesitated. “I don’t know. I need to think about it. Besides, I’ve got some things to take care of right now.”
“Things?”
Skerry shrugged. “Some business, which will keep me out of town just long enough, I hope, to make me feel like kissing and making up with a certain lady I know.”
“Had a romantic spat with some chip runner?”
Skerry’s eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Michael. I’ve got a short fuse these days.” He shook his head. “Dammit, I miss her.”
“Who?” Michael was wildly curious—Skerry so rarely talked about his women. “Is she involved in business with you?”
“None of your business and no.”
“Sorry.” Well, maybe he’d never know, Michael thought. There had always been mysteries about Skerry. Probably always would be. He could live with that.
“So leave me alone. It’s my concern and I’ll decide what I will or won’t do.”
“Suit yourself. But you tell Rebekah.”
“She’ll figure it out on her own. She’s all right—a little pushy. But so was Halden. Book Keepers always are.” Skerry nodded and turned to Michael. “Listen, I’ll be checking in with you during the investigation. If you need my help—or somewhere to run—don’t hesitate.”
“Let’s hope it won’t come to that.” Michael squeezed his shoulder. “Besides, you’re pretty hard to find sometimes.”
Narlydda had watched the news broadcast with cool fascination. Again, she scanned the tape. Ashman’s face was peculiar; almost genderless, with a sharp nose, thin lips, high cheekbones, and of course, those eerie, silver eyes.
“Hold,” she told the computer. The image onscreen froze.
She leaned over and grabbed a sketchpad. Quickly, with great economy of line, she captured the supermutant’s triangular face, his short, silvery hair, elongated bone structure.
If he’s really the supermutant, then he probably knows I’m doing this.
Impulsively, Narlydda added horns and a halo to the sketch.
There. Let him really get an eyeful. The sketch pulled loose easily from the pad. Should she fax it to her agent? Send it to the L.A. Times editorial section? For a moment, she was tempted. Then she crumpled the sketch and threw it in the corner. He was probably a sham. But an interesting one. What would he be like in person? Shy? Aggressive?
Why not find out? Emory Foundation was hosting Ashman and handling his publicity. Well, maybe it was time to take Tavia Emory up on her persistent invitations. Besides, Skerry had been out of touch for over a month. Narlydda turned toward the computer. “Anne, get me Tavia Emory.”
Kelly sat in the rec lounge, watching the wallscreen in amazement. This Ashman, could he really be what he claimed? An evolved mutant?
“Jesus, do you believe this?” Ethan Hawkins, first officer of the shuttle Brinford, sat down next to her. His dark face was somber. “I don’t know whether to laugh at him or go hide under the bed.”
“Me neither.”
“Have you seen Landon around?”
“No. But I’d love to hear his opinion.” Kelly shivered. “This guy gives me the creeps.”
Hawkins nodded. “Me too. He’s got to be a fake. Got to be.”
“But what if he’s not?”
“If he’s not, he’d better hide his ass. Every scientist is going to want a piece of it. And every army as well.” Hawkins took a sip of coffee and nodded slowly. “If I were Mr. Ashman, I wouldn’t be so free about advertising my wares.”
Jena lolled in bed, naked, wrapped in orange sheets, watching a tape of the supermutant interview. Across the room, Wade was on his private screen with Mutant Union officials. She barely noticed; her attention was riveted to the silver-eyed Ashman. Her cheeks were bright, her eyes flashed. I’ve got to meet him.
Wade sat down beside her and stroked her cheek.
“Show you a guy with silver eyes and you get all excited,” he said. “Not that I mind.”
She shook off his roving hands. “He’s fascinating. Wade, I can hardly believe it. After all these years of talk, talk, talk, we’ve finally gotten a supermutant!”
“We?” Wade lifted an eyebrow.
“Well, he’s got to be related to some clan, doesn’t he? Oh Wade, who is he? Where did he come from?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
Jena grabbed his shirt in excitement.
“What do you know? Tell me. Tell me.”
“You were at the council meeting.” Wade shrugged. His tawny hair slanted down across his forehead into his eyes. He brushed it away impatiently. “We’re all stumped. But after tomorrow, maybe we’ll know a little more.”
“What, do you mean, after tomorrow?”
“A group of top Mutant Union officials is going to meet with Ashman and interview him. We’ll try to learn what we can.”
“Oh, Wade, take me along!” Jena jumped up, throwing off the sheet.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous at all. I’m a dues-paying Union member. Why shouldn’t I go?”
“It’s for union officials only.”
Jena pouted. “Why can’t you bring me along as a companion?” She put her hand on his thigh, slowly moving it upward. “You’ll get lonely in Arizona. I couldn’t bear for you to be lonely.”
He grinned at her. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”
“Completely.” She slipped her hand under his shirt. He leaned back against the silken apricot pillows.
“What about your poor husband at that investigation?”
“Don’t let’s talk about him now.” Jena nuzzled against him, and he cradled her in an easy embrace.
“Why don’t you leave him?”
Jena started laughing. “Oh, Wade. Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been through this before. I couldn’t. The council frowns on it. And besides, there’s Herra to think of.”
His expression turned icy, and he stood up, moving beyond her reach. “You still love him.” His voice was sad, almost reproachful.
“Well, yes, I guess I do.” She surprised herself with the admission. Quickly, she reached for his hand. Squeezed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. We have such a wonderful time together.”
Wade shrugged out of her grip. “Look, I’ve got to go.”
“What about the supermutant?”
“It’s out of the question.”
“But Wade …” Flabbergasted, Jena watched the door slide closed behind him. It’s not fair, she thought. The most exciting thing to happen in mutant history, and I’m stuck at home.
She turned back to the wallscreen. “Replay.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
.
A hot wind blew out of the desert, roaring north toward the coastal megalopolis that stretched from San Jose to San Francisco, hundreds of miles away. It set the eucalyptus leaves dancing on their long, viny stems. The manzanita, the dry grasses, all whispered and nodded, accustomed to the vagaries of weather, even in winter. Even in California.
“Strange wind,” Melanie said. “Isn’t it supposed to be cool and rainy out here in January?”
The guard shrugged. “I’m from Pennsylvania, myself. But I’ve been here long enough to know th
at anything can happen in the desert. And probably will.” He inspected her press credentials and waved her on.
Melanie scanned the empty spaces around the Spaceport. Tawny as a lion’s back, a flat, dry landscape with muscular, rolling hills in the distance. The dry lakebed on which Armstrong was built was a perfect site for runways and launchsites. Even the buildings were sleek, low to the ground and sand-colored. Everything looked new, rebuilt in ’15 after the Houston/Gulf spill made California the center of shuttle operations in North America.
She hurried into the auditorium where the Moonstation investigation was being held. Her credentials got her a front row seat in the press section. She staked out her territory with the crylight nametag she’d been given, then went looking for a cup of coffee. The hallway ped strip was moving at a good clip when she saw a vending mech rolling past, lights blinking, in the opposite direction. She jumped off the grid and hurried after it, nearly bumping into a dark-haired young woman wearing a purple Shuttle Corps jumpsuit.
“Sorry.”
The woman grabbed her arm and stared hard. “Melanie? Melanie Ryton?”
It was Kelly McLeod.
“My God,” Melanie said. “Kelly. Is it you?” They hugged briefly, almost out of instinct. Then, suddenly self-conscious, they pulled back, awkward strangers despite their teenage friendship.
“You look so official in that outfit.”
Kelly chuckled. “That’s the idea. And you don’t even look like a mutant with those blue eyes—what are they, contact lenses?”
“Yeah.”
“So that was you, all those years ago, in Colorado?”
Melanie flushed with embarrassment. “Uh, yeah. I guess I wasn’t ready to admit who I was to anybody then.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Kelly laughed easily. “It’s nice to see you again, with or without golden eyes. Are you here because of Michael?”
“Michael?” Melanie gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Your brother. He’s been summoned as part of the Moonstation investigation. Didn’t you know?”
“No. I’m here covering the investigation for Cable News.”
“Oh.”
They stood in silence for a moment as the information sank in.
“He’s in trouble?”
“Looks that way. Haven’t you been in touch with him? I would have thought he’d tell you about it.”
“Uh, not for a while.” Omigod. What do I do now? Melanie began to sweat under her red silk tunic. “Is he all right? Have you seen him?”
“Yes.”
“Is his family here with him?”
Kelly looked down. “I don’t think so.”
“Figures. That Jena always was a bitch. She’s the last person I’d expect to be helpful. Has he seen you?”
Now it was Kelly’s turn to flush. “Uh, no. I—I guess I don’t really want to talk to him. Past is past.”
“I guess.” Well, that was her business. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t think he’s shown up yet. They’re still doing preliminary questioning. He’s probably back at the guest quarters.
“I’ve got to see him.” And she meant it. Suddenly, Melanie wanted to see her brother very badly. To stand with him. Especially if he was here all alone. “Do you want me to tell him you’re here?”
“No. Please.” Kelly’s tone was urgent. “Melanie, please don’t say anything. Remember how badly you wanted to leave your past behind? I understand how you felt. Can’t you understand that there are parts of my life that I never want to think about again? And your brother is one of those parts.”
Well, that was direct. “All right. I guess you have your reasons. I won’t mention you. But I’d better run if I want to catch him before this session starts, and I have to be back in the press gallery. Can we meet later? I want to hear all about the rescue.”
“And I want to talk to you about this strange supermutant guy.”
“Ashman?” Melanie rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he’s a fake.”
“Well, whatever he is. Let’s talk soon. You can reach me at the Shuttle Corps dorm. I’m in room 19A.”
Melanie was already halfway down the hall. “Good. I’ll catch you later, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she waved at the purple-clad figure and raced for a payscreen.
In a different segment of North American desert, Tavia Emory was not having a good day. She bustled along the carpeted corridor of Emory Headquarters, ignoring the desert view through the filtered windows, wishing she were anywhere else—in her private quarters, floating in her lap pool. But no time for that now. She’d already had Security eject three free-lance video jocks who’d somehow found their way into the guest wing. Then Ashman had refused to meet the delegation of government officials from the Pentagon, claiming fatigue. Dr. Sarnoff was with him now. Maybe that would help. Meanwhile, a group of mutants was camped on her doorstep, demanding to see the supermutant. In all the fuss and chaos, she’d even forgotten to put in her gold contact lenses. Gray-eyed, she gazed upon her mutant visitors, envying them the obvious marks of their mutancy. The only bright spot in all of this was that Narlydda had finally accepted her invitation. So much for Yosh. He’d told her to forget about Narlydda. Well, she’d remind him of that later.
Tavia entered the reception hall. The Mutant Union delegates were gathered by the window. A short, gray-haired woman in forest green—what was her name? Rebekah?—approached once again.
“Mrs. Emory, surely you can appreciate our position,” she said.
Tavia gestured impatiently. “Of course, of course. You know I’m sympathetic to you. But as my aides have told you repeatedly, Mr. Ashman is not seeing anybody today. He simply has too full a schedule.”
“We’ll wait.”
Stubborn woman. Well, why not? Mutants had to be stubborn to get anywhere. And she’d rather have Ashman talk to them than to a bunch of generals with ribbons on their shoulders anyway. He wasn’t meant to help the military. He would be an agent of peace.
The office door irised open. Ashman stood, white robes glowing, a figure out of a dream or an illustration.
“What are you doing here?” Tavia cried. “You know you should be resting.”
Ashman stared at her coldly and turned away toward the group of mutants clustered by the wallseat.
“My friends and cousins, welcome.” There was a forced vibrancy to his voice. He moved quickly—too quickly, as though he didn’t quite trust his legs—across the dark red carpeting toward the windows. Sat down on the bronzed wallseat and beckoned the others to join him. They gathered around him in a loose semicircle.
“Mr. Ashman, we represent—”
“I know who you are, Rebekah. I’m so pleased you’ve come.”
Her face paled at his words, but her expression remained firm. “Yes, well, we wanted to ask you—”
“Don’t worry.” He smiled reassuringly. His small teeth were even and neat. “We will work together. I would like to address a meeting of the Mutant Union at the earliest possible opportunity. And the mutant councils as well.”
Rebekah glanced at several of the mutants around her.
“Oh, I know you have many questions,” Ashman said pleasantly. “I can see them bubbling away in your minds. Please, ask me anything. I want to set you at ease.”
“Well, I would have preferred to discuss this in private,” Rebekah said.
Tavia squeezed her way through the group and sat down next to Ashman. “Now Victor, isn’t it a little too soon to talk about meeting with groups?”
“Nonsense. I feel fine.” He patted her hand affectionately. “Tavia is such a mother hen,” he said, chuckling. “But feel free to speak in front of her. She is absolutely trustworthy.”
Tavia didn’t like the tone in his voice. What was happening to him? A moment ago, he’d seemed on the verge of fainting. Now, his voice was strong, vibrant. He glowed with charisma. The mutants seemed stunned to silence. Then the woman named Rebekah spoke.<
br />
“Well, yes, we do have many questions,” she said. “To begin with, to what clan do you belong?”
“Every clan. And none.”
“Is that a riddle?”
“It’s an answer.” Ashman smiled beatifically.
“Why didn’t you come to us first?”
He levitated a hammered copper bowl of fruit across the room, selected a yellow apple, then passed it in front of the group. “Please have something. Oh, go ahead.” As the bowl floated before them, the apple began to peel itself, the skin twirling off in golden curls, disappearing in midair. When no one made a move, Ashman sighed and set the bowl back down on the table before him.
“It didn’t seem appropriate to contact you. Or necessary. I knew that you would come to me.”
“I see.” Rebekah exchanged a meaningful glance with a tall, dark-haired man next to her. “As I was saying, about meeting,” she continued. “We would like to invite you to a special council meeting in two weeks.”
“I’d be delighted,” he said. “I hope to preside at future meetings, of course, but I suppose preliminary arrangements are in order.”
“Preside?” Her face paled.
“Oh, let’s not talk about that now.” Ashman waved his hand in dismissal. “We’ll have time to discuss all this later, I’m sure,” Ashman said. “I have no doubt we’ll all be able to work together as a family.” He nodded. The group around him seemed fascinated, Tavia thought. Almost hypnotized. Then, like a door closing, the spell seemed to end. Ashman’s skin turned a pearly gray. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He seemed to sag in his chair, energy ebbing.
Tavia took control. “You’ll have to excuse him,” she said. “He needs to rest now. Please come back sometime next week.” She smoothly ushered them toward the door, through it, down the hall, and into the waiting arms of her public relations staff. They would see the Mutant Council out. Tavia turned and hurried back to the reception hall. She found Ashman pacing back and forth.
“Victor, are you all right?”
“Fine.” He looked furious. “You had no right to make them leave, Tavia. I wasn’t finished with them yet.”
His words sent a chill through her. “But I thought we agreed …”
