Another quick glance at the Djheens revealed that a shield wasn't the only thing they had brought. Miranda recognized the weapons they held, gas grenade launchers. She wasn't sure whether she hoped the gas was selective or not. If it was selective that meant ill for her, possibly even death at this point, but the rest of the people around her would be safe. If the gas was broad based all of the people around her would be affected as well, but she might be able to use the confusion to escape. Either way it would be better if she could escape the gas entirely.
Miranda made a break for the pier. It wasn't much of an escape route but it was better than the alternatives, and probably her only hope of getting outside of the shield at this point. The Djheens instantly took note and dropped all pretense of concealment, having reasonably surmised that Miranda knew exactly where they were. Instantly they launched their gas canisters at the pier.
The eruption caught Miranda mid-inhalation and she had to cough the breath back out. Those around her began coughing too, then they began clawing at each other. Miranda became an instant target of the mob’s drug induced aggressions, thanks to a little telepathic prodding from the Djheens. Worse she could feel the gas taking effect on her. Even without breathing in any more, the stinging gas was absorbed through her skin and eyes. She knew she had to get out of there before she went nuts, or the crowd killed her. She abandoned the idea of leaping to the sea off of the end of the pier and focused on just getting off of the pier.
Blinking through the noxious fog, Miranda made out the pier railing. She could feel the Djheens on her heels as she leapt over the heads of the gas victims around her to perch momentarily on top of the railing before throwing herself at whatever lay beneath. She managed a decent sized splash as she hit the water feet first. Luckily the tide was at its highest in months and she was much closer to the end of the pier than she thought.
She only barely hit bottom before she began to bob back up towards the surface. Knowing that the air up there was unfit for breathing, Miranda turned her momentum and energy to swimming out to sea. Her legs quickly became tangled in the long hem of her coat. She wrestled her way out of it and tried not to think about it drifting slowly to the ocean floor.
Miranda sucked sea water in through her nose passing it out through her mouth in an attempt to absorb some oxygen through her nasal lining. It worked, if only inefficiently, thanks to her more than human genetic heritage. She wasn't getting much oxygen but she was getting enough to carry her beyond the reach of the noxious gas back at the pier.
Miranda swam forcefully underwater. After a while, her muscles began cramping up because she was asking too much of them and offering them too little oxygen to get it done with. She finally had to risk surfacing for air or else she was going to end up asphyxiated. Eyes first she rose above the water and looked back at the pier. It was in chaos. She could see the cloud of gas beginning to travel downwind driving all in its path into a frenzy. As she surfaced for a breath, Miranda confirmed the wind was fortuitously blowing down along the coast and not out to sea with her.
Gasping for breath, tears, of relief and from the stinging gas, welled up in her eyes. She had only barely scraped by this time. She shot another look at the pier and regretted the innocent victims of her would be captors. Then she began swimming upwind parallel to the shore.
Her muscles argued painfully at having more asked of them but she ignored them. She swam until her arms and legs felt like they were ready to seize up then she turned towards the shore. By that time she had to fight not only the waves, but the outgoing tide as well. Despite every stroke the current took her farther out to sea, she fought it until she noticed a small island just a little further from the shore. She stopped fighting the tide and flipped to her back. She tried to rest but the sudden cessation of activity sent her muscles spasming.
Miranda had to work to get herself to relax enough to remain floating. It was almost as much effort to stop her inadvertent flailings as it would have been to swim. Finally the waves began to subside. To test the depth of the water Miranda held herself vertical and bobbed down and up. When her dangling toes touched sand, Miranda leaned forward onto her stomach and paddled lightly with her arms in an attempt to break from the current which now threatened to drag her out to sea around the island. She kicked and swam. The beach came closer and closer until with a forward stroke Miranda came up with a hand full of sand. Immediately instinct drove her to her knees. She scrabbled up the beach and collapsed in a pile.
Miranda's fingers clenched and unclenched clawing at the sand. She was alive. Despite everything they had tried, she had escaped and survived. A coughing fit from the residual gas caught Miranda and shook the breath from her. When it finally stopped she swallowed air, greedily into her lungs, and in excitement her stomach. In response she hiccoughed. While her diaphragm spasmed she laughed at the dichotomy: near death one minute hiccupping on a beach the next. Forcefully she seized control of her body and relaxed herself.
Laying rigidly still, Miranda replayed the Djheens almost successful attack in her mind. Learning what she could from the experience she turned her mind to now. Now she had to leave this world, but that could- would wait until she rested. Right now she didn't have enough energy to pull herself further up the shore, let alone to another world.
When she had a little more strength, her only hope would be to find a world with lots of inter-dimensional track-ways, like the woman had suggested in the first place. From there her flight would be indistinguishable from the ordinary trails of any of the other travelers. She started to reach her mind out to search for such a nexus but instead found her eyes closing to spite her.
She was fighting heavy eyes, like lead. They were cottony dry and achy from being open, but she didn't want to close them. That was just one more step too close to sleep. She had already allowed herself to lay down. Her muscles, tight achy and vibrating, all announced warmly that they existed, and that they had worked harder than they wanted to. She knew that tomorrow she would wake stiff, because they waited tensely all night to go back to work. They seemed to have liked it. Perhaps muscles could get bored. She wished that they had time to get bored more often.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ben's body began to stir to consciousness long before his mind. His bed shook violently beneath him and he was almost able to consciously make out a voice. He tried to ignore it but between the shaking and the talking it didn't work.
The voice came from a speaker concealed within the wall behind his pillow, “It is now time for you to awaken. You have fourteen minutes thirty seconds to get to your first appointment this morning.”
Finally Ben recognized Aunt Bea's kind yet firm voice. With that recognition Ben snapped fully awake. Momentarily the memory of shooting the strange woman flashed through his mind, fleeing rapidly. From there he unaccountably passed through denial of the day before as a dream. Ultimately he entered a dismissive acceptance of it. He had an appointment with Niri, an instructor who would teach him... something. On that part Ben was still unclear, but all things considered he was handling things quite well.
“It is now time for you to awaken. You have fourteen minutes to get to your first appointment this morning.”
“I'm awake.” Ben grumbled.
“If you would please sustain an upright position, I will accept that as a truthful assertion.”
“So what you're saying is you won’t believe me >till I get my lazy butt out of bed.” Ben had to smile at an alarm clock that wouldn't take his word for it.
“Correct.”
Ben flopped the blanket back out of his way and set his feet on the floor. He looked down at his feet and had to frown. “I can't believe I slept in my suit. Now what do I wear today?”
“I believe this outfit would be appropriate.” One of the cupboard doors flopped open. Hanging on a garment hook on the inside of the door was a matched blue and white exercise set. “I selected the color based on your present garment, sho
uld you prefer a different color you may tell me at any time.”
Ben tugged the clothes from their hangers, “No, it's fine. Are you sure it will fit?”
“I scanned your size and ordered a few appropriate outfits based on your apparent lack of possessions. You have thirteen minutes remaining.”
At the computer's prodding Ben undressed, dropping his suit on the floor. He automatically went to remove his gun, it was then he realized that both gun and holster were gone. He tried to remember the last time he remembered having it, but couldn't remember having either beyond shooting Miranda. That memory struck him with a twinge of regret and he hoped Angela had been correct in telling him that it would take more than a bullet to kill her. Ben turned back to trying to remember when he lost his gun. He didn't remember dropping it on the street, but he didn't remember holding it when he fainted. He went round and round with himself as he undressed. By the time he was dressed in the T-shirt and sweat pants Ben had decided to take the matter up with Daniel the next time he saw him.
While attaching Aunt Bea's remote pin to his collar, Ben sat back down on his bed. His behind thanked him. While dressing he had almost forgotten how comfortable the bed was. With a smile and a languid stretch Ben thought of what a wonderful night's sleep he had. He began to tilt over towards his pillow but Aunt Bea's voice stopped him, “You have five minutes remaining.”
Her warning set Ben back upright. He stumbled into his shoes and started out the door. He had reached the point after waking up where his eyes and muscles conspired to get him to crawl back in bed. If he didn't get some coffee down his gullet he wouldn't be able to resist. With one eyelid open about the thickness of an eyelash he forced himself down the hall to the living area hoping someone had the sense and the inventory to make a pot of coffee.
Ben's nose confirmed his luck before he had even left the hall. The air was full of the smell only a freshly brewed pot of coffee gives off. Blindly, because his eyes had lapsed back into sleeping position, Ben staggered to the coffee pot. A friendly hand supplied him with a mug and filled it for him. He held it beneath his nose absorbing ambition with the steam, until his eyelids decided to reopen.
Ben's eyes opened to the face of a man his height but of a much more muscular build. The man's skin had a faintly green cast to it and his hair was ropy and blonde. “Welcome to our humble abode stranger, my name is Martin, and I'm the democratically elected welcome wagon.” Martin's voice was deeper than Ben had expected but also more pleasant.
“My name is Benjamin I guess I'm staying down that hall.” Ben gestured with the coffee cup then remembered it and sipped. It was too hot to drink quickly so he allowed himself a little time to talk with his new acquaintance.
“I know, my Jewel told me last night when I got in,” Martin smiled.
“Jewel?'
“That's what I call my room.”
“Oh, I named mine Aunt Bea.”
“Really? So did you have an Aunt Bea or are you an Earther?” Martin asked lifting his own coffee to his lips.
“I'm from Earth.”
Martin shrugged. “There isn't any shame in that,” A hint of pity in Martin's tone suddenly left Ben wondering, “After all most of us can trace our roots there if we go back far enough. So are you straight human?”
Ben hesitated not wanting to know what Martin's reaction would be, “Gene didn't sound quite sure. He said I was technically human.” Ben then took several searing gulps of coffee to brace himself for Martin's response.
“Sure enough, you're human. Seeing as 'technically' human is as close to confirming pedigree as Gene ever gets. What was your rating?”
“I think it was 410 or something.”
“Wow, that is unnatural!” Martin declared with as much excitement as Niri had used the evening before.
“What exactly is normal?”
“For a human? The average human has a rating of about 185. It is really hard to find a sane human with a rating over 250. Psychotic patients can have ratings up to 1400, but they aren't properly wired to handle the input.” Martin looked down into his coffee expressing embarrassment with the color of his cheeks. Evidently he realized his answer implied a high probability of Ben being crazy.
“Pardon me, Ben your appointment is in one minute.” Aunt Bea peeped from her remote pin.
“It's been great meeting you, but I guess I'd better go.” Ben said handing the half finished cup of coffee back to Martin and heading to the transport booth.
Ben hunted through the numerous labeled buttons for the one for the training room. He found and punched it and the activation button. After a stretched instant of nonexistence and motion, Ben arrived in the transport booth in the corner of the cavernous training room. He looked around and saw Niri offering instructions to a small but growing group of adolescents near the dormitory arch. He ran over and joined them. He looked totally out of place towering over the tallest by nearly a foot. The oldest was a couple years more than a decade his junior.
Ben was just wishing he could make himself smaller and less noticeable when Niri took notice, “Ahh, good Ben you made it. Class, this is Mr. Kindel. He will be joining us for some of our lessons for a while. So I want you all to show him how much you know by answering any questions he has, no matter how silly they may sound. He is well acquainted with Angela and will probably be inclined to mention to her anyone who is either a big help or a big hindrance.” Niri paused to catch the eyes of each student before continuing. “Isn't that right Ben?” A twinkle in the corner of her eye warned him to play the crowd.
“I have spoken with her, and her husband Daniel is one of my best friends,” Ben replied plainly.
“Now that's settled I want five laps from each of you before breakfast,” Niri stabbed a finger at the running track that clung to the perimeter of the room. Ben resisted speculating as to how many miles that would add up to and watched the kids begin their run. Niri caught his glance and menacingly locked eyes with him long enough to let him know she meant him too. Ben nodded and set his best foot forward after the others who had already begun.
Ben caught up to the pack and fell into step towards the back. The pace started out leisurely but with each quarter of a lap the pace increased. Ben was beginning to feel winded by the beginning of the final lap. The kids, he was significantly lagging behind, had barely broken a sweat. He was a quarter lap behind the first ones to finish. Back home Ben had run every morning, here it seemed that counted for less than nothing.
Ben crossed the final marker panting, most of the others had already gone on to breakfast. All that was left was one small girl sitting cross legged with a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. When Ben came even with her she rose and offered him the towel and the water.
Cynically Ben wondered if it was because of Niri's suggestion that Ben could get them in good with Angela. “I can't necessarily get you anywhere with Angela.”
The girl flipped her face up towards him, her pale blue eyes wide with horror, “You don't think that's why I did it, do you? No. I'm not worried about her, she's my cousin. And I'm not being nice cause she asked me to either, cause she didn't. I just... I saw you were having trouble back there and I thought maybe you might, appreciate those,” The girl said then dipped her head in self effacing modesty.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that in the first place. This place is so different from back home. Everything just happens so fast here and everybody knows so much more and...”
The girl nodded at him, “It's overwhelming.”
“It doesn't help that everybody is telepathic and knows what I'm going to say almost before I do.” Ben blurted in frustration. His words brought the girl suddenly to the brink of tears.
“No, not everybody.” She whispered. Ben looked at her and she was pointedly dejected.
“Oh, I'm sorry what have I said now?”
“It's not your fault, you obviously aren't telepathic enough to notice that I'm deaf, dumb and useless.” Tears floo
ded down the girl's face.
“You aren't deaf, dumb or useless,” Ben gave the towel back to her and watched as she buried her face in it.
“Telepathically I am, everybody treats me like a cripple!” She whimpered.
Ben patted her on the back uncomfortably, “You aren't a cripple.”
She turned on him violently, “You're right, I'm a freak! My mother is one of the premier telepaths in Sanctuary her rating is over 6700. The Doc can't even rate me, his readings show I have about as much psychic potential as a smallish stone.” She threw the towel at him, it bounced off and fluttered impotently to the track. “I try to act like I know what people are thinking; I watch them and figure out the patterns, but it backfires. I know they 'think' to each other about me behind my back.”
“Look I'm sorry I didn't mean to...”
“No, it’s not Your fault! I just thought I'd be nice and see if maybe we could be friends, but you probably don't want to know that you know what a schizoid freak I am.” She grabbed a small bag from beside the track and ran off for the exit. Ben was left holding the water bottle, with his brain temporarily tied up in knots.
“That, was Tina,” Niri surprised Ben from behind, “she has some problems.”
“What difference does it make whether or not she's a telepath?” Ben asked putting the water down on the towel.
“The thing is she is not telepathic in any way. Her thoughts are all locked away in there they don't even leak out where we can hear them. But that isn't really one of her problems. Tina has an older sister somewhere that disappeared as a toddler. The sister was born with a rating of around 5000 that means she could teleport on a whim from birth. At that level even a stray thought of another place can take you there under the right conditions. Her mother had to be on constant guard to keep her contained. There was an emergency that distracted Penelope, and the baby just 'ported somewhere else. Between that and her family tree, Tina is under a lot of pressure. She's fifteen and is really worrying that she will never go through her primary metamorphosis. What she doesn't know is that Gene has told me it could come at anytime.”
Eyes Love & Water Page 7
