Pico's Crush

by Carol Van Natta

  It had been one of the few times the universe had smiled on him, because he’d also met a therapist telepath-sifter that day who’d changed his life. Saved it, actually. The body shop’s policy was to make sure patients were mentally stable enough to undergo extreme body mods, so they’d sent him to their staff counselor, Yanish, before learning how young he was. Yanish, an older Arabic man with warm, kindly eyes, had been astonishingly blunt.

  “Your father has a persuasive public persona,” he’d said, “but once the medics get over their awe of having a star in their midst, they’ll turn him down.” Sojaire didn’t get to enjoy the relief long, because the therapist startled him with a telepathic connection, his first. It was against standard therapeutic practice, but Yanish was pressed for time. “Your father is also deeply warped. At least he doesn’t abuse you physically, but he’s inflicting emotional damage every day. He’ll continue to get away with it as long as he’s on the top of his game. The best you can do is survive. Weather the storm and plan for the day you can walk out. Don’t tell him you’re a minder, or he’ll use it against you.”

  “I’m a what?” Sojaire had asked.

  “A healer, and a strong one. I’m a sifter, so I can sense it, even if you can’t yet. I see you’re already interested in medicine. Use it as a cover—become a medic, or he’ll figure it out.” Behind the words was a well of complex emotion, as if Yanish knew all too well what abusive parents could do.

  “One more thing. Make sure you fail minder testing. The CPS is infinitely worse than your father.” The kaleidoscopic packet of images that accompanied that warning had nearly brought him to his knees. Yanish had seen far too many minders destroyed by the control drugs, or what they’d done in the name of the CPS.

  “Sojaire, are you okay?”

  Disoriented from his side trip down well-worn memory lane, he looked around. Most of the people he recognized were gone, and Pico was standing in front of him looking up, so close that all it would take was tilting his head down, and he’d be kissing her. She was so heart-stoppingly vibrant. His rational mind ordered him to back away, but his body rebelled and refused to budge. “Yes.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Where did everyone go?”

  “I knew you weren’t listening.” She sighed and stepped back. “Truòng noticed the mercs made a mistake, and we’re going to exploit it.” She tilted toward the front of the room with her head. “The line for the fresher was making it hard for the two at the north door to see, so they moved past them into the hall. Which means an intrepid band of daring corsairs can use the fresher line as cover.” She put her hand on the inside of his elbow and bent his forearm to support it. “It’s our turn to go stand in line.”

  She tugged, and he gladly followed. He sure as hell wasn’t letting her go without him. For one thing, he’d get lost, and for another, her father would kill him.

  Astonishingly, their plan had worked. Not only had Pico’s “corsairs” gotten away, but a sizable number of other students had sneaked out the north door before the mercs noticed their problem. Pico’s friends had split up into groups, each with a plan as to how to visit mayhem upon the invading force.

  Pico, maddeningly, had refused to go to the Mat Sci building where their flitters were stacked, and where Mairwen would be, and probably Luka. “Personal rental flitters are no match for gunships,” she’d argued. “I’d like to save getting shot out of the sky for some future date.” He’d been so distracted by the hope that he hadn’t totally blown his last chance with Pico that he hadn’t protested when she insisted on skulking through the lush foliage surrounding the central commons, and slipping into the Math building to check on the kids in the childcare center.

  They made it halfway through the lobby, to a large rounded atrium, only to see a group that could only be theft crew entering at the far end of the south hall. Four of the six sported tall mohawks, and all had major glowing body art. The only reason the crew didn’t find them in the atrium was because quick-thinking Pico pushed Sojaire behind the long, heavy construction panels stored there and crammed herself in with him. The cramped space put her in his arms, with her back up against his chest. The full contact meant he couldn’t help but feel her lungs working and sense the adrenalin that had her heart pumping. She smelled of plants and sweat, and it reminded him of their frantic run through the hydroponics section of the space station. He used a tiny bit of his healer talent to share some of his energy reserves with her. It had always been his silent, secret gift to her when in the midst of “interesting times.”

  “Thank you,” she breathed. It startled him, until he realized she meant the crew had gone out the door, not that she’d noticed what he’d done. She moved out of his arms, leaving him feeling achingly empty. He eased out after her.

  “I think we just saw why the mercs are here,” she said quietly. “I bet the university called in mercs instead of the police because they didn’t want the publicity. Now I’m really worried about the kids.”

  She led him to a lit but closed door frame, where she palmed her biometric and entered a code. The door irised open, and as soon as they stepped in, she used the wallcomp to seal the door as closed for business.

  The toys and play areas looked pretty much as they had the night before, but he couldn’t see the children. He could feel them, six… no, seven of them, but they weren’t visible.

  After a quick dash through the kitchen and the nap room, she came back to the playroom. “Thank the constant stars, the staff got them out,” said Pico. Her relief was almost palpable, then turned to fear. “Or maybe they didn’t. What if they’re hostages?” she whispered.

  “They’re not,” he said. “I… that is–”

  “You don’t know that,” she interrupted. “We have to find–”

  He cut her off by grabbing her arm. “The children are still here. Seven of them. Including Miguel, Celia, and Lyssi. They’re scared and angry, and feeling abandoned, but none are hurt.” He put his hand to his sternum. “I’m an empath. I can feel them.” It was a heartless way to reveal his secret empath talent, one of the things he’d wanted to explain, but she’d been as close to panic as he’d ever seen her.

  Her mouth gaped in astonishment. She looked around, then looked at him. He could see the wheels turning in her sharp mind, and sensed the first breezes of complex emotion from her. He tried to pull into his shell, but couldn’t, because he’d connected with her only minutes ago and was touching her now.

  “You and I,” she hissed, “will have words, but not now.” She exerted the strength of mind he so admired in her by pulling away from him and turning to face the seemingly empty play room. “Hi, kids, remember me? Peregrine of the Pirate Clan?”

  Sojaire gave up trying to contain his empath talent. He reached out to the ball of emotional energy that was Miguel. He sent soothing waves to the rest of the children, or tried to. He was far better at bottling up his talent than using it.

  Because he knew where to look, he saw Miguel’s dark head appear from under a twisting slide before Pico did. He nudged her and pointed. Pico ran to the boy. A scrape of fabric from the playhouse behind her brought Lyssi out from under what looked like a wadded up blanket. Pico opened her arms, and both children slammed into her embrace. Within a few moments, she was enveloped in a knot of children, all chattering at once.

  “The new teachers went to lunch and didn’t come back.”

  “They said they’d bring us candy if we didn’t tell.”

  “Miguel said there were hunters.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  Pico caught Sojaire’s eye. “Could you see if there’s something to eat?” She tilted her head toward the kitchen. He nodded and started to cross the room, only to be intercepted by solemn Miguel.

  “Éramos zorros.”

  “Mairwen’s game?” Sojaire remembered when Miguel had mentioned it last night. “What did she teach you?”

  “How to search like a hunter, and how to hide like a fox.” His English was softened by his
Spanish accent. “After the teachers left, some men wanted in, but they didn’t have the code. They were… muy enojados?”

  “Angry,” translated Pico.

  “One had red hair like mine, but straight up, like this,” said Lyssi, holding splayed fingers on top of her head, where a mohawk would be.

  “Yes,” said Miguel. “Mairwen said hunters forget how small foxes are. She showed us how to hide in spaces where they wouldn’t look. Éramos zorros. We were foxes.”

  The boy’s face held quiet pride. “You did exactly right,” Sojaire said. “Come on, let’s see what’s in the kitchen.” Miguel’s hand slipping into his was a surprise, but shouldn’t have been. Empaths found comfort in physical contact.

  They brought out plates with hastily assembled sandwiches, assorted fruits, and some bite-sized carrots and served them to Pico and the kids.

  Sojaire positioned himself by the door, like he’d seen Mairwen do when she was pretending to be a dimwitted nightshift guard. It was safer than being so close to Pico.

  “Children,” Pico said as she stood up, “quick like bunni… like foxes, take your plates to the kitchen and put them on the counter, then use the fresher to wash your face and hands. Sojaire and I need to talk about what to do next.”

  They obligingly scampered into the kitchen while Pico brushed crumbs off her pants as she walked toward him. He slammed his containment down as tight as he could. His stupid empath talent had never been anything but trouble.

  “Oh, stop looking like I’m going to eviscerate you with a force blade. It’s too messy.” She put her hands on her hips. “The irresponsible ziftbrains who are supposed to be here probably got caught up in the same sweep we did, and are stuck in the lecture hall. None of the parents will be coming for the kids for hours–”

  They both jumped when the door behind him chimed.

  “Oh, frelling hell,” grumbled Pico. “What now?” She slammed her palm on the wallcomp just past his ear. The display showed the grim face of Luka Foxe, and he was carrying Mairwen in his arms.

  However badly the childcare center was managed, its facilities were adequate and secure, and the suite’s medic kit was comprehensive. While marshaling the children into setting up a makeshift treatment area, Pico watched Sojaire slip into his professional healer mode and take charge. It was what had attracted her to him in the first place, at space camp. While Valenia had drooled over the several cute boys at camp, Pico thought they were all lopars, but she was drawn to the young and handsome blond medic, especially when he showed far more compassion for the campers than the leaders had.

  To keep the children out of the way while Sojaire worked, she took them into the nap room and got them to lie down and read or watch vids quietly. It would have to makeup for their regular post-meal nap. Unsurprisingly, Lyssi crawled into her lap and fell asleep. Eleven-year-old Miguel, too old for a nap, asked permission to go see if Sojaire needed help.

  “Yes,” she said, “and tell Mairwen how you were all foxes.”

  She tried the comms again and got nowhere. That left her alone with her thoughts, which weren’t very restful company. She hoped her dad was far away, but wished he was there with her. She was concerned about Professor De Luna, because she wasn’t the type to sit idly by while mercenaries traipsed through the hallways, but she didn’t know about the crew. She wanted to thank Mairwen for empowering the children. She was sorry Mairwen had been hurt, and glad she’d accept help from Sojaire. She worried about her friends, who could also get hurt if they pissed off the mercenaries or the crew. She wanted to kill the childcare center’s manager and owners for hiring selfish, good-for-nothing staff who deserved to be stranded on a barren island where the only drinkable water was infested with starving piranhas.

  And then there was Sojaire’s revelation that he was an empath. It cast the last three years in an infinitely more painful light. She’d assumed he hadn’t known what she felt for him, how her crush had matured into a full-blown, unrequited love, that she wanted him with an intensity that flamed her skin and stole her breath. But since he was an empath, he’d known all along. Therefore, each time he’d ignored her, each time he’d put people or distance between them, he’d done it deliberately because he didn’t return her feelings. She was pretty sure he liked her as a friend, but that was it. She was hurt and angry that he’d lied to her, but mostly, she was just embarrassed that she’d spent three years pining for a man who would never want her. She was going to have a long cry about it, and probably rend a few garments in the process, just as soon as this frelling day from black-hole hell was over.

  She carried the totally boneless Lyssi to a cot and kissed her forehead as she covered her with a thin sheet, then went back to the main playroom.

  Luka was pacing, although he was having a hard time navigating around the toys, and talking to himself. “…have to assume the crew were in the labs, so the question is, why?” Mairwen and Miguel were focused on repairing the scorched hole in the back of her pant leg with medical tape.

  Sojaire looked up from putting medical supplies back in their cases. “Pico, Mairwen said when your dad saw the five gunships, he landed his flitter on the Mat Sci airpad and took his gun bag into the building. She also said one of the gun ships shot up the third-floor Chemistry lab.”

  “Dad will be looking for me.” She knew that with the certainty that she knew the planet orbited the sun. “I hope he finds Professor De Luna, too. I expect she’s causing trouble.”

  Chapter 21

  * Planet: Nila Marbela * GDAT 3241.149 *

  Sweat poured down Jerzi’s neck like he was in a sauna, but he ignored it. His vantage point behind the large arrow-leafed plant under the bent trunk of a tree was safe enough, as long as he didn’t move. A nearby fountain made to look like a tiny freshwater pond provided moisture and attracted mosquitoes and other insects, which kept the orange-specked fish near the surface. His camouflage vest and cap took on the green color near him, but movements from his dark pants and muddy, but still tan-skinned, arms would be more obvious. Another group of the theft crew came into view with yet another cart full of crates and boxes. They’d taken to using the wheeled carts that worked better over the permaturf walkways than the finicky grav carts.

  He was close enough to hear loud voices, but not the quiet muttering that was often more useful. Still, he’d gotten the picture that the crew was sneaking their stolen goods out the Materials Science building’s loading dock, just west of where he was, while fighting the mercs in the top of the Chemistry building. They’d been feeling pretty smug about it, too, until one of the crew had brought the news that the mercs had landed more gunships and personnel. They’d begun transferring the goods to the low-profile powered barge a lot faster after that.

  An hour earlier, when he’d been in the third-floor Materials Science laboratory, he’d heard an all-floor announcement by Department Leader Vestering to report to the big Chemistry lecture hall. If Jerzi was going to be useful to anyone, he couldn’t afford to be bottled up in the lecture hall, so he’d used the nearby stairs to slip down to the first floor of the Mat Sci building with the idea of finding Andra. When he’d imagined Pico stuck in the lecture hall, however, he decided he needed to see what was going on for himself.

  He reviewed his mental map of the lecture hall, from when the entire POGS Day fair had been stuffed into it because of the rain, and remembered the walkabout ledge at the top northeast corner. While accompanying Mairwen on her assessment, he’d noted the small, rectangular access door behind the second-floor chemistry lab, and Lavong had said it was a closet for audio-visual use.

  Slow, careful slinking got him and his gun bag past the mercenaries and well-meaning staff who were collecting people to send to the hall, and into the closet, which, as he’d hoped, gave him access to the ledge. He could have really used Andra’s ocular implants at that moment, but he could at least recognize faces when they looked up. His vantage point gave him a bird’s-eye view of the seating arranging itself,
the swelling knot of people in line for the fresher, the loaded-for-war but inattentive mercs, and the clever group of students who were using the fresher line as cover to escape out the north door. His heart leapt when he recognized Pico’s distinctive white-and-red jumpsuit, and saw that she was escaping with Sojaire. His daughter was smart enough to get somewhere safe.

  He stayed long enough to determine that Andra wasn’t in the hall, which meant she was still free, and likely in the thick of things, or soon would be. He slithered back into the A/V closet and tried comms again, but no luck. He’d heard the mercenaries complaining about it, too, and relaying orders to look for tech suppressors. Like the military, mercs needed constant, real-time communication for peak efficiency.

  The Chemistry building became too dangerous when more mercs arrived on the roof, so he’d gone to the ground floor and slipped outside, only to realize he’d traded one hot zone for another. A large theft crew was hauling equipment out of the building wholesale, and he only avoided getting caught because he dove for a thicket and curled himself tightly around his gun bag. The presence of the crew explained the tech suppressors, which gave their hands-on, analog methods an advantage.

  He’d made his way east, on the water side of the conjoined buildings, one natural outgrowth and engineered landscape feature at a time. Most of the crew looked typical, with extreme body art and metal implants, and an apparent fondness for mohawk hairstyles, but some looked more like students or staff. Which, once he had time to think about it, made sense for a daylight heist. People were much less likely to question ordinary workers in lab coats directing a grav cart full of lab equipment.

  The chatter he heard suggested a central crew had contracted other, smaller crews to help. He decided his initial theory, that the mercs had been called in to protect the Chemistry building, might be incomplete. The theft crew believed the mercs were trying to effect a theft of their own. Jerzi doubted mercs needed lab equipment for themselves, but he couldn’t imagine who had hired them. Mercs were better at invasions and takedowns.