Frozen Fire

by Wendy L. Koenig

  Chapter 20

  Who am I?

  Denefe was at a loss for words. She stared at the lean, white-haired man in front of her. Could Torenz really be a triplet? It seemed wildly untrue. Yet he looked so similar to her and Kaleen. Inadvertently, her gaze flicked to the photo of her parents.

  Torenz’s thought-voice filled her mind. “I assure you, it’s true and I’m not delusional.”

  Her bridled response was immediate as she snapped her gaze back to him. “You’re very rude to sit in my mind uninvited.”

  “I’ve been doing it for quite a few years now. Just keeping tabs on the two of you. You’re right, though. I’m sorry. You aren’t much better, treating poor Jileah the way you did.”

  “It’s different. She refused to tell me any information. Ergo, she was possibly a hostile force.”

  “Ah, good old GlobeX training.” He paced again. “Tell me, did she actually refuse or did she promise to tell you later?”

  Denefe shrugged. “Semantics.”

  “I see. So, by extension, you think I could be hostile?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure you’re lying about being a triplet. Plus, you still haven’t told me where or when I am.” Denefe felt her face flush with heated anger. It didn’t help that Torenz stopped, slack-jawed, and stared at her. She snapped, “What?”

  He shook his head. “You’re so like Dad.” He smiled, sorrow pulling the corners of his eyes and mouth downward. “You’re smack in the middle of the Gobi Desert, circa 322 BC. This installation is deep underground, where it’s cool. We found you because I heard your thoughts in this time instead of the future where they usually belong. When you’re well enough, we’ll get our genomes tested and compared so I can prove I’m not lying.” He turned to leave.

  “I’m well enough now.”

  He stopped and faced her. “You’re joking. You can’t even sit up without help.”

  “You’re right, but since I have you to help me, let’s go.”

  “Now I know how Mom felt. She never could stand up to Dad. I’ll be right back.” He laughed and left.

  Denefe had just set her drink back on the nightstand and contemplated how to get up when a small shuttle cart floated into the room, Torenz driving. He stopped four feet from the bed and dismounted.

  “This will hurt a little, so it’s important you concentrate on being limp like a wet rag. Let me do the work.”

  Denefe nodded, and he pulled back the covers. Sliding his hands under her knees and behind her shoulders, he carefully lifted her, stepped round the cart, and deposited her into the driver’s seat. The whole procedure took less than a minute, but to Denefe, who waited for the sharp lances of pain to appear, it seemed to take forever. She was pleased, therefore, when the ache wasn’t as harsh as she’d expected.

  “How far are we traveling?”

  Torenz spun the cart on its layer of air to face the door. “Down the hall, left, right, through three intersections, left, and left.”

  “Got it.” She took off, not waiting to see if he followed. The halls seemed to stretch longer and longer the closer they came to their destination, and she kept the cart at maximum speed the whole trip. By the time they arrived, Torenz, who had picked up a steady jog, was sweating.

  Without comment, he opened the door to the lab. They were greeted by Jileah, who seemed not to have noticed or cared about Denefe’s transgression against her.

  Torenz said, “We’d like a DNA test, please, Jileah.”

  “Gladly. I just need a sample of each of your DNA. Saliva is the most non-invasive.”

  Jileah handed them each swabs and prepared two slides. After placing the saliva samples onto the glass plates, she slid them into flat depressions under the lens of a machine that looked remotely like a mechanical Mr. Magoo. Two images of striated bars appeared side-by-side on a large monitor on the wall. A blue light traced each bar, lingering in the striations. As the beam moved, a compatibility percentage continuously evaluated and recalculated until the light reached the end of the charts—ninety-eight percent.

  Jileah looked from one to the other. “That’s closer than blood relatives. You’re nearly identical.”

  Stunned, Denefe’s mind reeled. It was really true that Torenz was a triplet. Did that mean the rest of his story was true as well? Her parents hadn’t died in the wreck. Had they really, instead, chosen to abandon two of their children and gone to live in the past with their son?

  It felt as if the life had been squeezed out of her and her heart was nothing but an aching, bottomless pit. Her parents had rejected her and Kaleen. Whirling her cart on its pad of air, she launched it out the open door and down the first hall she came to. Without signs, there was no way Denefe could tell where she was going. It wasn’t as though she cared. Anywhere was fine as long as it was fast and far. She chose new corridors as whim took her. Every open stretch, she pushed the cart to high speed, startling not a few people. She imagined Torenz was somewhere behind her. Not that she cared about that either.

  How could her parents just abandon her and Kaleen? Why weren’t they good enough to keep?

  Taking a turn too fast, her cart lurched to the left, banking hard and almost tumbling. Once it settled upright again, it had a peculiar bump as it rode, almost as if traveling over logs. Lost and emotionally spent, she let her vehicle slow to a stop.

  After Torenz eventually found her, she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper, “Why?”

  “Let’s get you back to bed first. Then we’ll sit and talk about it all.”

  Resentment filled her. Watching him as she navigated her cart behind him, she resented the straightness of his back, the muscular curve of his shoulders, the easy gait that was so much like hers.

  Once they reached her room, she waited in silence while he scooped her out of the cart and settled her on the bed. Before he could speak, she said, “I’d rather not talk right now. Please leave.”

  Torenz opened his mouth as if to say something, but after a couple of seconds, he snapped it shut and nodded. He started to leave, but walked to the dresser, picked up the metronome seated there, and brought it to her nightstand. He walked out the door, cart in tow.

  Denefe stared at her parents’ photo, a riot of emotions playing within her. The wreck that supposedly had killed them was one of the worst in aeronautical history. The new Intercontinental Rocket Plane, Flight 610R, was supposed to have left Dulles International at 11:05 in the morning and arrive in Geneva after a seventy-five-minute flight. That had been the schedule. In truth, Flight 610R never even made it off the ground. A small twenty-passenger commuter plane had taxied onto the wrong runway. As the giant rocket plane had roared to takeoff speed, the commuter pilot had tried desperately to navigate far enough to the side for safe passage. The departing plane’s massive wing, where the fuel was stored, had struck the smaller craft midsection and they both had erupted into a ball of flames. All passengers from the commuter had died instantly. Only seventeen of the 557 aboard 610R had survived. Her parents had been among the listed dead.

  She and Kaleen had only gotten information about the wreck second-hand. They’d been far too young to remember anything, except that their parents’ hands had never returned to hold them again. She was glad they hadn’t died in the wreck. Glad they’d lived another twelve years. Now she hated them. How could they have abandoned their two daughters? How was she going to tell Kaleen?

  Unable to stand the sight of her parents anymore, she closed her eyes. She’d rather tear the photo off the wall and shatter it into a million shards, but that would wait until another day when she could walk.

  She tried to turn her thoughts to her predicament and how best to get home, but, like a yo-yo, her mind kept returning to her parents’ deception.

  Finally, with a growl, she opened her eyes and reached for the wooden metronome Torenz had placed on the nightstand. She’d always admired the pyramidal shape and feel of the smoothly-grained wood, but this one w
as stunning beyond compare. It was made with what looked to be olive wood, the grain striations giving it a marbled look. She set the weight to medium height. After winding it, she set it back onto the nightstand and started it up. The deep, mellow toc-toc-toc of the swinging weight against the olive wood distracted her from her thoughts.

  It took some time for the easy rhythm to smooth the harsh edges of her emotions. Even longer before she felt the first stirrings of calm. Through it all, she kept her eyes closed. Still, she wasn’t entirely oblivious to her environment. At one point, Jileah came in with food and left it sitting beside the metronome. Sometime later, she returned, presumably to collect the dishes, and then left. The tray stayed behind. Denefe could still smell the meat sauce. At another point, someone stood at her door for a long time before leaving. Denefe thought it might be Torenz, not because he said or did anything, but because it would be something Kaleen would do.

  On the rare occasion she and Kaleen fought, her twin always got over her anger quickly. Denefe, on the other hand, harbored hers close like a lover, letting it eat through her and consume her until all combustible thoughts were burned away. It took days.

  Chapter 21

  The plan

  Torenz lay back on his bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling, his fingers laced behind his head, trying to nap, but he was far too wound up to do that. He’d been that way since he’d found his sister in the desert four days ago. Distraction helped him doze, but he always woke up within a few hours. He needed sleep, however, it was proving to be an elusive friend.

  In person, Denefe was much different than her thoughts. For one, she was testier, but he was used to that in Mom. It didn’t bother him much. His sister had proven she was fair. He’d seen that in how she’d accepted the results of the DNA tests. Her upset hadn’t been because of the relationship. It had been because of their parents’ apparent lie.

  In her thoughts, Denefe was vocal and confident, almost aggressive. There, in person, she was quiet. He’d seen her as unsure. Of course that most probably had something to do with circumstances that made her show a different side of herself. Multifaceted was what she was. Like him.

  He’d been given orders regarding her. She was not allowed to investigate the facility alone. She was not to be told anything about the anomaly. Nor was she allowed near it. There would be no discussion of his mission, either.

  Under no circumstances was she allowed to leave. Ever.

  Chapter 22

  Back to training

  Each time the metronome’s hollow toc-toc-toc slowed to a stop, Denefe rewound it. It had been some time since she’d trained with one, and when she calmed enough, she began the exercises she’d been taught as a small child.

  Toc-toc-toc. She let the sound of the instrument pull her deep into herself and clear her thoughts away. When she was a child, she would swing back and forth in time with the soothing rhythm. The teachers at the GlobeX fosterage initially checked her for autism, but found none. They were just motions, nothing more. They amused the teachers so much, they even encouraged it. Somehow, someone up the chain of command got wind and issued the order to stop the movements. Denefe found her once-cute mannerisms suddenly worthy of chastisement. It was one of the loneliest days of her childhood. It was also the day she learned the true meaning of being a telepath. Kaleen had sent a quiet message to Denefe’s mind. “I’m here.”

  From that moment on, she and Kaleen bonded stronger than any other pair in the fosterage. Not a day went by that they weren’t constantly in touch telepathically.

  Toc-toc-toc. She left all thoughts about her past and let the metronome take them. The silence and clarity within her allowed her to relax. Her breathing slowed, and she felt her recent frown smooth away.

  Moving easily into the second part of her childhood training, she pictured her mind as a flower and slowly opened it to the cacophony of thought-voices around her. Most people were on constant broadcast.

  “…time to eat? I’m starved.”

  “…to the root of the fifteenth…”

  “…isn’t what she said…”

  They all overlapped each other, and it took a few minutes, but she eventually identified eighteen separate voices. There weren’t as many as she’d thought. The facility must be small. Or some must be on alternate shifts.

  Slowly she closed the “petals” of the flower, blocking the voices one by one until there were none. She held the silence in her mind, listening to the lack of constant murmur that she filtered through each day. After a few moments, she began the exercise again. Each time she reached the end of the cycle and stopped to listen to the silence, she stretched the time longer. She usually repeated the cycle eight to ten times before she was finished.

  After the tenth time, the question of how she was going to tell Kaleen about Torenz came unbidden to her mind. She firmly pushed it away and concentrated on listening to the quiet and the toc-toc-toc.

  At once, another thought arose—Torenz had eavesdropped on her thoughts before. Was he listening now?

  Denefe reached for the flower image again, opening it all the way and then closing one petal at a time. She did that twice more. The last time, as she closed the petals, she was careful to not shut out her link with Torenz.

  Focusing on the hollow rhythm of her metronome, she waited in silence for a few minutes. She broadcast, “I wonder what time of day it is? It must be afternoon.”

  Immediately, Torenz’s mind corrected, “Evening.”

  Pretending she hadn’t heard him, she thought to herself, “I should talk to Kaleen again. Maybe after a nap. I’m awfully tired.”

  She lay down, closed her eyes, and let herself drown in the toc-toc-toc of her metronome, waiting and forcing herself to breathe slow and deep. It took what seemed like hours, but in all probability was only fifteen minutes before Torenz’s thoughts became wrapped up in who won a chess tournament.

  She sat up and stared at her parents in the photo. They stared back, mocking her.

  “Kaleen.”

  “Hello, sister mine. Feeling better?” Kaleen’s voice was alarmingly loud and clear.

  “Better, yes. Do you remember that blue dress we always fought over as children?” That was their code that one or both of them may be monitored telepathically. They’d invented it when in fosterage and it had served them well over the years. It was an elaborate code that no one had ever been able to crack. It required them both to respond fast without thinking. There had been no blue dress.

  Without hesitation, Kaleen answered, “I absolutely do.”

  “I still maintain it was mine.” The only important word in that sentence was “mine.” It meant she was starting the coded message. The second word in the next passage was the code word. The question at the end indicated that passage was over. “The pin was gorgeous. Do you remember it?”

  How Kaleen answered wasn’t important, only that she didn’t ask for a repeat. Her job was to make Denefe’s sometimes oddly forced sentences sound normal. “I certainly do!”

  “The hole it tore in the dress was sad, though. I forget who did that, do you know?”

  “I think it was Kathlet. She wanted the pin.”

  “Her metronome was damaged too. Or was it?”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “Well, once she found she couldn’t have the pin, she quit being friends with me. Was she still yours?” The message was over. Pin. Hole. Metronome. Once. Denefe had used the word “quit” to tell her sister the message was over.

  “No, she quit me too.” Kaleen also used “quit.” She had no message of her own.

  They chatted about nothing consequential for a few minutes before Denefe said, “I’m tired and going to nap now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Be careful and get better. A nap sounds like just the ticket.” Kaleen couldn’t keep worry from lacing through her thoughts. She left.

  Denefe reached for her dinner on her nightstand. It was cold
, of course, but it was still tasty and she didn’t have to work hard to choke it down. While she ate, she stared at the portrait on the wall. Perhaps she wouldn’t destroy it. Her parents, though dead, could be useful, after all.

  She checked on Torenz, who was still obsessing over chess. He’d been listening in on her thoughts twice now. That she knew. He’d told her that he’d found her because her thoughts were there instead of in the future “as they usually were.” That meant he’d been listening for a long time. Why? Was it just a brother’s curiosity?

  No matter the reason, it didn’t bode well as far as trust was concerned. She’d bet money that no matter how much he swore he’d never do it again, she’d find him inside her mind, spying. Now, because of his actions, she was going to have to take care with what she let herself think. She was going to have to lie and spy into his mind occasionally.

  It filled her with distaste, and she returned her half-empty tray to the nightstand. She hated this skulking around stuff. It was part of why she was so happy to be posted at Brazil Base in the middle of nowhere, far from politics. That was a sentimentality she shared with Kaleen.

  Tomorrow, she would begin her investigation into her parents’ disappearance. Why had they come to this place? What was “Definitive Headquarters”? Why were they hidden so deep in the desert? How was she going to get home? Most importantly, how was she going to tell Kaleen she had a brother?

  She broke off her thoughts and checked on Torenz again. He’d changed topics, but not by much. Now he obsessed over some kind of game called Crimson King. Could she trust him? Trust what he’d told her?

  It had been a while since she’d had to fly by the seat of her pants, without thinking first. Trust her instinct. Tomorrow would be the beginning of a whole new pattern for her…again. For now, there was nothing she could do.