by Haber, Karen
“Stop interrogating me, Narlydda!” Ashman’s eyes flashed angrily. “I had to get away. To establish myself.”
“Gods, what have I done?” Narlydda cried. “I should have blown us both to hell and back when I had the chance.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ashman said. “You’d have missed all the fun to come.” His expression turned icy. “You know, I don’t think you really value the opportunity I’ve given you. What artist doesn’t want all the time and freedom there is to work? And you’ve always hated intrusions—or so you’ve said. You should be grateful that I’ve given you a haven from the annoying, noisy nonmutant world. Why should you need or want anything else?”
He walked into an adjoining domeroom, gesturing for her to follow.
“We’ll sleep here,” he said. “The workrooms are beyond, in the next domespace. I think there’s a bathroom around here someplace.”
“That would be useful.” She gazed at the large couch in the middle of the room. Sleeping with Ashman? She shuddered at the thought.
He ignored her sarcasm. “And there’s something I think you’d like to see.” He beckoned toward a doorway, and despite her fear and irritation, Narlydda followed him. Peering through, she saw a large domeroom filled with glittering apparatus. It was a fully equipped robotic lab. As Narlydda watched, gleaming silver mechs shuttled between vacuum centrifuges and refrigeration units. She looked around quickly, but there didn’t appear to be any exits.
“Eye of newt, toe of bat,” Ashman intoned, rubbing his hands together. Then he stopped, piqued. “Aren’t you going to ask me what’s cooking?”
He really is crazy, Narlydda thought. Calm down. Play along. Maybe you’ll find a chance to escape. She bowed cautiously, and said aloud, “A thousand apologies. And just what have you got bubbling on the stove?”
“It’s a surprise,” Ashman said gleefully. “What a shame that Dr. Sarnoff couldn’t join us. But two’s company. Luckily, he lent me his secret formula for enhancing mutant strength. Once you’ve had some, we’ll be a perfect match.”
“Had some?” She stared at him in alarm. “What is that stuff?”
“Think of it as mutant steroids,” Ashman said. “It’s wonderful. Just imagine the artwork you’ll produce. Oh, you’ll create quite a stir. I’m sure of it.”
“No thanks.” Narlydda began backing toward the door as fast as she could. Get to the shuttle, she thought. Get away. At least try.
“You are ungrateful, aren’t you?”
Steely, telekinetic fingers gripped and held her, unmoving. In horror, Narlydda watched a hypo fill with silvery liquid and float toward her.
“No, Ashman. Please. Don’t!”
The sting of the hypo cut off any further pleas.
The serum burned a path up her arm across her chest and along her other limbs, throughout her body, as though she were enflamed. If Ashman’s telekinesis hadn’t held her upright, she would have fallen to the floor.
“It’s not supposed to hurt,” Ashman said, sounding surprised and petulant. “It didn’t hurt me.”
“I’m not like you,” Narlydda gasped, appalled. Her arms and legs were shaking, spasming. She was burning up, being consumed from the inside out. “No, no, no,” she cried. “Make it stop. I thought you liked me, Victor. Help me.”
But even as she reached toward him in her fear and pain, he seemed to recede, to melt and run along the edges as she watched, until there was just a puddle of Ashman in front of her, shimmering in tones of silver and gray. Then a dozen tiny Ashmans sprang up, a miniature supermutant army, and advanced toward her, each one of them grinning insanely. Terrified, Narlydda pushed them away with her mind, and they splattered against the dome like bugs on a windshield.
“Now you’re getting the hang of it,” Ashman’s voice said approvingly. But it sounded odd, elongated and slow.
Narlydda’s blood beat a ragged tattoo in her head, her neck, her wrists. The pain was receding now, and the fear with it, replaced by an electrifying surge of power and strength. She felt the insane urge to dance and caper in time to that compelling blood rhythm. To grab Ashman’s hand and go waltzing around the room to a wild mutant two-step.
“I’m a nobody, who are you? Are you a nobody too?” she quoted. Then she giggled. The room needed flowers. Lots of flowers. She would cover the floor, the dome, blot out the cold, merciless stars with garlands of red, purple, yellow dahlias and moonflowers, fabulous blooms that she’d invent and then, maybe, Ashman would make them real.
Let there be flowers, she thought. And music. And sculpture. Lots of sculpture. She’d send for Anne Verland right away and tell her to clone all her sculpture. Maybe they’d need more dome space. Ashman would have to think about that.
“Whoa, now. Slow down,” Ashman said, grabbing her hand,
But she didn’t want to slow down. She could dance for days. All she needed were the musicians. She already had the crazy drummer beating away in her chest. When had she ever had this much energy? Didn’t Ashman understand? He of all people should understand. They could rule the world, the two of them. The misfit duo: Ashman and the green lady. But his grip was annoying. And what was he saying to her? He was making too much noise, like a buzzing mosquito. She couldn’t hear herself think. She needed space. Room. And most of all, she needed silence.
“Go!”
With a telekinetic snap, she shoved him away from her as easily as flicking an insect. How amusing to hear his astonished gasp, to see the horrified look on Ashman’s face as he went staggering back toward the centrifuge. Only his own powers kept him from a nasty bump on the head. Narlydda giggled. And now he looked mad. Oooh. Look out, here he comes.
Ashman flew at her, his face boiling with rage.
Stop that. Now.
The mental command was sharp. Thunderous.
Narlydda ignored it.
“I told you to stop!” Ashman yelled.
“Now, now,” Narlydda said, waggling an admonishing finger at him. “You ought to watch that temper. And really, you shouldn’t mess in somebody else’s kitchen. Especially if you’re not a very good cook.”
Instead of flying at her again in a rage, Ashman stood back pensively. “I see your point,” he said. Behind him, another hypo filled with silver fluid. In two quick movements, he’d injected himself.
Narlydda stopped laughing.
Ashman’s eyes glowed with cold silver fire. He blinked, and she went toppling backward, somersaulting across the room. With a crash, she came to rest against the panels of the refrigeration cabinets.
That son of a bitch! She sat up, shaking her head to stop its slow, dizzying spin. How dare he!
Narlydda cast around her for something to throw. Telekinetically, she yanked a stool out of its storage slot and heaved it at the supermutant. He ducked, but she changed the arc of the stool’s trajectory and caught him with it at the knees. Ashman toppled, cursing.
Above their heads, a wallspeaker broadcast a burst of radio static It was loud and annoying. Narlydda shut it off.
Ashman was on his feet now, glowering at her. “Don’t make me do something I might regret,” he said. His voice was very high and strange.
For answer, Narlydda shoved him into a bulkhead.
“Is this a private game, or can anybody play?” a familiar voice asked.
Ashman whirled to face the intruder. “How did you get in here?” he demanded.
“Just followed your breadcrumbs.”
Narlydda knew that voice, that smile. It was her one true love, the man in the Moon, and he’d come all this way just for her. For little green her. She laughed with delight and triumph.
“Skerry!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
.
Skerry pushed back the orange sleeves of his pressure suit and stood, hands on hips, glaring across the domeroom at Ashman.
“You left a tough trail for me to follow,” Skerry said. “I’d have been here sooner, but cutting through that stealth field was a bitch, even for m
e. Lucky thing you left the front door to the factory open.” He cast a sharp glance at Narlydda. “Lydda, you look funny.”
“Ashman gave me some magic potion,” she said happily. She hummed a song fragment as her gaze wandered around the room. “Hi, Yosh. Hi, Melanie.”
“He what?” Skerry rounded on Ashman. “Are you crazy? What the hell did you do to her?”
“I never touched her,” Ashman said. “And I don’t have to answer any questions. Get out.”
“Not bloody likely.” Skerry moved toward him. His hands were balled into fists.
“Then I’ll just throw you out,” the supermutant said. His voice was thin and whispery but his eyes flashed with anger.
A green bolt of telekinetic energy slashed across the room toward Skerry.
“Melanie, Yosh, get behind me!” he yelled. “Get down!”
Yosh grabbed hold of Narlydda’s hand and yanked her down with them.
Spitting green sparks and hissing angrily, the telekinetic bolt hit Skerry full on, knocking the bearded mutant backward as it washed over and enfolded him in a deadly coruscating net.
Melanie closed her eyes in despair. Skerry was dead. He had to be. Nobody could survive that voltage.
“No,” Narlydda cried. She thrashed wildly in Yosh’s arms. “No, no, no. I won’t let you do it, Ashman.” Yanking herself free, she reached, panting, toward Skerry.
“Gods,” Yosh whispered. “Melanie, look at that.”
She was lying flat on her face on the scratchy carpet, just behind Yosh. Carefully, Melanie opened her eyes. And stared in wonder. Like a serpent recoiling, the telekinetic snare was pulling back into itself, disappearing as it released Skerry from its malignant grip.
“What’s that around him?” Melanie said.
“Protection,” Narlydda said. She slumped down, pale and exhausted, every bit of energy spent fighting off Ashman’s attack.
Skerry shimmered and glowed as though his skin were afire. A glittering esper shield stretched to cover him as he stood up and faced Ashman once more.
“I really don’t like you,” Skerry said, and his voice smoldered with rage. “You or your style.” As he spoke, a dark cloud formed around Ashman like a suffocating gray caul.
The supermutant struggled as the walls of the esper field shrank around him. Staggering blindly forward, he tripped over a low table and cried out but managed to catch himself. The esper cloud darkened as it drained his telepathic energy, reducing all cerebral functions to baseline levels. Ashman moaned and fell to the floor, where he lay, a shrouded figure, unmoving.
“Time to go.” Skerry grabbed Narlydda’s hand and started for the door.
She hung back, gaping in distress.
“You hurt him. I didn’t want you to hurt him.”
Skerry shook his head. “I don’t know what he gave you, Lydda, but whatever it was, it’s definitely not endearing you to me.”
“Sorry,” she said. Her frown melted and she began to giggle. “I feel pretty strange.”
“I can see that. Come on.” He hurried her and the others into the shuttle bay, along the catwalk, and aboard the mini-shuttle.
“Quick, let’s get out of here,” he yelled, sealing the door then webbing himself into a couch with Narlydda.
Yosh punched in the autopilot, and ponderously, the shuttle began to move out of the bay toward the safety of space. Metal screeched, then was still as the orbiter pulled away and out into the vacuum. In moments, the factory was a speck on the cabin screen.
“That was fast,” Skerry said with relief. He turned to give Narlydda a hug. His hands closed on empty air as she faded away, lingering a moment as a green ghost before disappearing completely.
“Lydda!”
“Gods!” Melanie said. “She turned transparent, just like in my dream.”
The color drained from Skerry’s face. He pulled free from the webbing. “Dammit!” He punched the cabin wall, no easy task in low gravity. “God damn me for a fool!” His third punch dented the mech dispenser. Pink liquid began spraying out into the cabin, forming into round globules, which floated languidly, splashed upon contact, and settled into a fine pink mist.
“What happened?” Yosh demanded. “She was right here!” He hit the mech disabler, halting the flood of pink fog.
“Calm down, Skerry,” Melanie said. “Before you wreck the cabin.” She detached her webbing, pushed off from her couch, and grabbed for her cousin’s flailing arm. “Listen to me! You’ve got to calm down.”
“I knew it all seemed too easy,” Skerry said. He floated by the wallscreen, Melanie clinging to his shoulder. “No, Yosh, I don’t think Narlydda was right here. In fact, I’m not sure she was ever here at all.” A cloud of pink liquid floated around his head like a halo. “This Ashman is much trickier than I expected. If he could convince me I’d knocked him out with an esper squeeze while at the same time deluding me that I’d rescued Narlydda, then we’re in big, big trouble. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What should we do now?” Melanie’s voice was shrill with fright. She released her grip on Skerry and pulled herself back to her couch using the handholds which studded the cabin walls.
“We could go back to Armstrong Base,” Yosh said.
“Oh sure. And whistle up the military,” Skerry said. “Wouldn’t they just love to get their hands on Ashman. Or die trying.”
“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Yosh said defensively. “You’ve just said we’re in big trouble.”
Skerry leaned over and grabbed the musician by the collar of his orange pressure suit. “Listen to me,” he said. “That factory is armed to the teeth. If the military gets involved in this, they could blow the entire place up. And Narlydda with it.”
“But what else can we do?” Melanie cried.
“We can turn around and go back to the factory,” Skerry said.
Yosh carefully unhooked Skerry’s fingers from his suit, one by one. “Sounds crazy to me,” he said. “No offense,” he added as the bearded mutant glared at him.
“Yosh is right,” Melanie said. “We’ve already proven that one strong telepath, a null, and a nonmutant are hardly a match for Ashman.” She waited for another eruption out of her cousin. To her surprise, he said nothing, looked away as though pondering the problem, then nodded.
“We’re overmatched,” he said sourly. “That’s for sure. Now if your brother were here, I might stand a real chance,” he said. “Together, a strong telepath and a multitalent telekinetic …”
“Well, he’s not available,” Melanie said.
“Then we’ll just have to do our best,” Skerry said. “But we are going back to that factory. Now.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Then, slowly, Melanie looked at Yosh. He nodded. She knew she couldn’t fight them both.
“All right,” she said. “If that’s the way you want it. Yosh, does this shuttle have an armory?”
“Probably,” he said. “Emory Foundation seems to have equipped this private fleet with everything but an atom splitter.”
“I’m not interested in physics experiments,” she said sharply. “But I could use a gun. Or three.”
She aimed herself toward the cabin screen but nearly overshot and bounced off the far wall before she grabbed a handhold. The screen buzzed with static. She switched it to internal mode.
“Blueprint, Shuttle-D,” she said.
“Getting.” A holo diagram in full color seemed to spring out of the screen. Melanie studied it impatiently, then nodded.
“Screen off.”
She pushed away toward the back of the cabin. “Good thing you didn’t dent this mech,” she said to Skerry. She fiddled with the keypad for a moment, nodded, and typed in her request.
The mech whirred. A small door in the brown cabin wall swung inward and up, revealing a long white tray on which a sleek, gray laser pistol sat. Melanie reached for the gun and hefted it approvingly.
“Nice.”
“When you’re finished
admiring that laser, I suggest you web yourself back in.” Yosh said. “I’m going to call Armstrong and tell them if they haven’t heard from us in two hours, they’d better send the fleet. The cavalry. Whatever it is they send to space stations to rescue mutants in distress.” He stared at Skerry defiantly. “With or without your approval.”
Skerry’s eyes narrowed in anger. He began to disagree, then stopped and, raising his hands, shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. If we can’t stop Ashman, we can at least warn somebody else.”
“Good.” Yosh typed in the emergency request.
The screen image disintegrated into flickering gray and red static. Yosh tried it again. More static.
“I think we’re being jammed,” he said.
“At this distance?” Melanie asked. “I don’t believe it.”
“Ashman’s very strong. Remember, it wasn’t until he was in space that his control over Emory Foundation headquarters began to erode.”
Skerry nodded. “Good point. Well, at least we know that he has some limitations. If only we could get far enough away from him. But no time for that. Can you reprogram the autopilot to take us back to the factory?”
“Sure. At least that works.”
“Okay.” Skerry turned to Melanie. “You know how to use that gun?”
“Yeah.”
Yosh looked up from the autopilot in surprise. “You do? How come?”
“Well, I had to learn about it for a feature I did on lasers in the home.”
Skerry gave her an approving pat on the back. “And I thought that all video jocks were just talking heads. At least now both of you have weapons.” His smile faded. “For all the good it will do us.”
The image of the factory grew in size, looming onscreen as they drew near it. Tensely, the three of them stared at it. “Ready or not,” Skerry said. “Here we come.”
Narlydda looked around in confusion. Had she imagined that Skerry had been there? But she thought he’d walked in and smiled at her. Right before he faded away, leaving the stars to twinkle at her through the transparent domewall.
Ashman stood across the room, rubbing his throat. His attention seemed distracted.
