Relativity

by R S Penney

  The door chime rang.

  “Come in.”

  The door slid open to reveal Gabi standing in the corridor. Somehow, he'd known it would be her; Keepers couldn't see through walls, but something in his gut told him this conversation was inevitable.

  Gabi strode into the room with her arms swinging, refusing to look up at him. “Nice to see you having a good time,” she said. “I was worried you'd spend the whole night moping.”

  “It was fun.”

  “Was it?”

  He spun to face her with his arms crossed, heaving out a deep breath. “Let's cut to it, Gabs,” he said, forcing down a wave of anxiety. “I like you a lot, but if it's really this hard for you to commit to something permanent, maybe we should call it quits.””

  She just stood there like a statue with her eyes glued to the floor, her lips twitching as she tried to find the words. “I like you quite a bit as well,” she murmured. “But I have to be honest; I want kids one day.”

  Lifting his chin to stare down his nose at her, Jack narrowed his eyes. “Well, now that's out in the open,” he said softly. “Gabs, I'm not gonna stand here and give you the 'we can make it work' speech.”

  “I wouldn't expect you to,” she said. “But you mean a lot to me.”

  He set his hands on her shoulders.

  Gabi fell forward, burying her nose in his chest. He gently laid a hand on the back of her head. “I know,” Jack whispered. “I'd like to find a partner that I could live with one day; if you don't think that's you…”

  She looked up at him with tears glistening on her cheeks, blinking as if to clear her vision. “Maybe it could be,” she said. “I don't…There are Keepers who have made great parents to adopted kids.”

  “That, there are.”

  “So…”

  Tilting her chin up, he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Maybe we don't have to decide it tonight,” he whispered. “I don't expect you to marry me tomorrow, but I would like it if you stopped trying to downplay our relationship.”

  The fierce hug she gave in response to that told him she was amenable. Well, that was good at least. He wanted to believe there was some hope they might have a future together. Sadly, he wasn't feeling very reassured by her hesitation. Jack didn't consider himself to be an expert on relationships, but he did have a very simple outlook. Either you were in, or you were out. And if you kept trying to straddle the line, if you weren't willing to say “yeah, let's do this…” it probably meant you wanted out.

  The windows in this penthouse apartment looked out on the city of Beijing under a starry sky, tall buildings rising up with hundreds of lights in their windows. Bright, silver moonlight spilled though the glass, leaving a soft sheen on hardwood floors that stretched from wall to wall.

  Lounging on a gray couch with his feet propped up on an ottoman, Grecken Slade held a tablet in front of his face. Interesting, he thought to himself. It seems the boy has been doing a little digging.

  With a casual flick of his finger, he scrolled through a list of Jack Hunter's recent search history. Links to database entries on the Overseers appeared in a list on the tablet's screen along with web-searches for cat-food and something called Buffy-Con: Toronto. Most of it was fluff, but Hunter's fascination with the Inzari caught his attention.

  As the former head of the Justice Keepers, Slade had taken a hands-on approach to the construction of the twenty-four space stations that now floated in orbit of this planet. The back-doors he had left in each station's mainframe allowed him to periodically check on his former subordinates. Provided he didn't do it too often, of course.

  Cyber-security teams had located and shut down many of the programs that would allow him to take direct control of each station's core computer functions – he had to give them credit for being able to oust several Trojan horses that he would have expected to go unnoticed for years – but there were still a few weak points he could exploit.

  Hunter's recent searches included data on a professor Aldin Nareo, one of Leyria's foremost experts on the Inzari. Slade was vaguely familiar with the man's work. In all likelihood, Jack intended to contact this professor.

  If that was the case, Slade would have to remove Nareo from the game before he could divulge anything useful. Assassinations were always regrettable – they tended to draw unwelcome attention, and Hunter would almost certainly realize that Slade had deduced his intentions – but he could think of no other recourse at this point. Analyzing the comm logs revealed that Hunter had not placed a call to Nareo's office, which meant one of two things: either the log had been deleted or young Jack intended to go in person. Slade was willing to bet on the latter.

  His multi-tool beeped.

  Slade felt his mouth tighten. Is it time already? He pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, groaning under his breath. That fool woman will drive me to insanity if I let her.

  He stood.

  The sitting room in this apartment was vast and decorated with gorgeous paintings hung on the cream-coloured walls. Behind the couch, an elevator led down to the ground floor, but he seldom went out that way.

  This apartment was not really his, after all, but the small cabal of men and women who served the Inzari on this planet maintained several safe spaces they could make use of at need. It would do for the moment.

  In the wall to his right, a hallway branched off and led to the three bedrooms that had been vacated upon his arrival. He started down the corridor with a heavy sigh. So much to do and so little time.

  Pushing open the second door on his left, he found a SlipGate in the middle of an empty bedroom, its surface gleaming when he flicked the light-switch. The metal triangle stood tall and proud, its top corner nearly brushing the ceiling. Most of the time, that was how he left the apartment.

  At the moment, the Gate was dormant, undetectable by anyone else on the network. It wouldn't do to allow Justice Keepers to come waltzing into his home at their leisure. A little privacy was one of the most treasured commodities a man could possess. Slade only activated the Gate when he intended to use it, and visitors had to request his permission before they made an appearance.

  Rolling up his sleeve, he tapped at the screen of his multi-tool and brought up an app that would let him interface with the Gate. He keyed in his passcode and cleared the Gate to receive incoming travelers.

  A moment later, the grooves on the triangle's surface lit up with a fierce white glow, accompanied by a soft humming noise. A bubble appeared from out of nowhere, seeming to expand from a single point to something large enough to contain a full-grown man.

  Inside, he saw a cloaked figure with her hooded head bowed, her body rippling in the distorted light. In truth, she looked almost like a physical manifestation of Death himself. Isara did have a flare for the dramatic.

  The bubble popped.

  Quickly, he deactivated the gate.

  Isara flung her cloak open, exposing a low-cut black dress that displayed milky-white cleavage. “They sent Lenai to Tennessee,” she hissed. “Locating the boy will be extremely difficult if I have to avoid crossing paths with her.”

  Thrusting his chin out, Slade squinted at her. “Is the costume really necessary?” he asked, shaking his head. “I've seen your face, Isara. One might start to think that you are growing paranoid.”

  She huddled in on herself, head bent so that he could only see the top of her hood. “You are not the only one who has seen my face,” she reminded him. “I would hate to be recognized by the wrong people.”

  Well…she had a point.

  He spun on his heel and left the room, marching through the long hallway with his hands clasped behind his back. “So the boy is still missing,” he said with a shrug. “And I take it he is still in possession of the Inzari device.”

  “So far as I can tell.”

  Contact with his symbiont allowed him to perceive Isara like a silhouette of wispy smoke in his mind's eye. She walked behind him with fists clenched, grum
bling to herself. Not long ago he had warned her that if she ever came to Earth without his permission, he would kill her, but the Inzari had decided to return Pennfield to the world of his birth, and Isara was to oversee his transition. One did not argue with a god, but it seemed as though his masters were growing desperate.

  He stepped into the living room.

  Rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, Slade winced. “How is our dearest friend Wesley?” he asked, spinning around to face her. “More importantly, has he made any progress in finding the Key?”

  The woman leaned one shoulder against the corridor wall, her eyes downcast so that he could not look into the hood. A habit, he assumed. “Pennfield no longer answers when I call.”

  “Really?”

  “I believe he might be playing his own game.” It came out as a growl. Something about Isara made him think of a feral lioness. “The humiliation he suffered at the hands of Hunter and Lenai seems to have affected him.”

  Slade felt his lips peel back from clenched teeth, a soft hiss escaping him. He let his head drop. “Of course the man would choose now to come unbalanced. We have another problem on our hands.”

  Isara perked up.

  A surge of heat burned in Slade's face, and he growled, shaking his head in disgust. “Jack Hunter is trying to contact a professor on Leyria,” he explained. “A man who built his career on studying the Inzari.”

  Hearing that set off Isara. She strode past him, into the living room, and paused by the couch with her fists on her hips. “Does it really matter? What can this professor tell him that would be of any threat to us?”

  “An unusually casual response from you.”

  She whirled around to face him, instinctively smoothing the fabric of her dress with one hand. “The only alternative is to kill the scholar,” she said. “Is it worth drawing that much attention?”

  “Hunter is very resourceful.”

  With a sigh, Isara sat on the couch and folded her hands in her lap. It was odd, the sight of a hooded figure relaxing on his sofa as if they were about to share a friendly cup of tea. “How soon before the boy makes contact?”

  “In all likelihood, he has already departed for Leyria.”

  Isara was still for a moment, then she hunched over with elbows on her thighs and her chin resting on laced her fingers. “You realize we're already too late,” she snapped at him. “Neither one of us could get to Leyria before he makes contact.”

  Pressing his lips together, Slade narrowed his eyes to slits. “The thought did cross my mind,” he said, nodding once. “Which is why I ordered you to remain on Leyria in the first place.”

  The woman remained doubled over with her hooded head bowed, refusing to show even a spec of irritation. “I have agents on Leyria,” she said. “If the good professor has to die, it can be arranged.”

  She picked up the tablet that he had left on the couch cushion and began tapping at the screen with no regard for his privacy. “I will need to access the SlipGate to make an off-world call.”

  Slade nodded.

  A hundred years ago, when he first brought this woman into the fold, he expected her to grow into a grateful subordinate, but Isara had a dogged sense of independence, and she would accept no human as her superior. Only the Inzari could expect obedience from her. A pity.

  She was the most skilled warrior that Slade had ever encountered, but a valued servant must possess more than the ability to physically dominate her opponents. For a moment, Slade wondered if she saw the irony in her complaints about Pennfield's refusal to take direction.

  Lifting the tablet up in front of her face, Isara stared into the screen as though she expected to find the secret of immortality therein. “He's not answering,” she murmured a moment later. “I wonder…”

  Had she meant for Slade to hear that? Though not as crafty as Pennfield, she could maneuver her adversaries into a vulnerable position when she set her mind to it. Only a fool let his guard down around Isara.

  “Yes,” a deep voice said from the tablet's speaker.

  Isara leaned back against the couch cushions, holding the tablet up in one hand. “I require your services,” she replied. “There is a professor on Leyria who may cause my associates some difficulties.”

  “I'm not on Leyria right now.”

  “I can see that.”

  Irritation mixed with anxiety to form a claw that gripped Slade's chest. If the man wasn't on Leyria, it was unlikely that he would be able to dispatch the professor before Hunter got to him. Still…There were times when a wise man learned how to delegate, and this was one of them.

  “How soon can you be there?”

  “Two days.”

  Slade crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, hanging his head in frustration. “Is that the best you can do?” he asked. “I would remind you that Hunter may already be on Leyria.”

  Isara turned her head, allowing just a sliver of light to penetrate that hood, enough for him to see her frowning. “Col is my best operative,” she said. “It isn't enough to kill the man; we must ensure that nothing leads back to us.”

  “We still haven't discussed payment,” a voice came from the tablet. “I want the best weapons you can provide.”

  Chapter 7

  The residential street that bordered the small patch of woodland behind his school was quiet on a Tuesday afternoon. As he walked, he saw a young girl playing on the front lawn of a red-bricked house with large front windows. He caught sight of a kid who must have been nearing the end of middle school walking a dog, but that was it. Nothing out of the ordinary except for him.

  Kevin walked along the sidewalk with hands shoved into his pockets, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up to hide his face. Don't make eye-contact, he thought as he passed the house with the little girl.

  She was about seven years old and blonde as blonde could be, dressed in a pair of shorts and a blue t-shirt. “Hello,” she said, waving as he passed. The fact that he refused to answer didn't seem to bother her.

  Kevin winced.

  He grabbed the brim of his hood and pulled it down further, making sure to avoid looking at anyone. They might have put your face on TV, he noted. You keep making slip ups like that, and someone will recognize you.

  He flexed his fingers.

  The device – or creature, or…whatever it was – that had attached itself to his palm was more than just a weapon; thirty-six hours of wearing the thing had been enough to make that clear to him. True, it could be used for destructive purposes, but it was so much more than that.

  For one thing, he could sense the precipitation in the air, the electrostatic charge and the relative humidity. The device seemed to grant him a kind of intuitive knowledge of natural systems. Earlier this morning, he had touched a tree – simply touched it – and sensed its roots, its leaves, the sap flowing through it. Whatever this thing was, it had become an extension of his own body. He couldn't give it up now.

  Not far ahead, the road curved slightly, and just past the bend, he found a strip mall with a laundromat and a convenience store. Several cars and one big blue van took up most of the parking spaces.

  Kevin shut his eyes, breathing deeply. Food, he thought to himself. You need to eat something before you faint from exhaustion. You can't keep surviving on just one meal a day.

  Keeping his hands hidden, he stepped onto the parking lot with his shoulders hunched up. Every trip to a public place left him feeling antsy. A black kid in a hoodie tended to put most people on edge, but if he let them see his face, he might find himself facing down a squad of cops.

  Passing through the narrow space between two cars, he found a pair of young men standing beneath the strip mall's overhanging roof. Kevin froze in place. He knew these guys from school.

  Danny Roberts was a tall, lanky boy in ripped jeans and an old black t-shirt. Pale as they come, he wore his dark hair combed forward emo-style and sported a light dusting of stubble on his hollow cheeks. “So she nags me about eating the
cookies,” he said. “I was like 'I didn't know they were for home-ec.' ”

  Next to him, Brian Robitaille pressed a fist to his mouth as he shook with laughter. “Dude,” he said, shaking his head. “You ate her damn assignment.” Shorter than Danny, he wore shorts and kept let his red hair fall to his shoulders.

  Kevin stepped beneath the overhang.

  He turned away, then rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. If he could sneak into the store and get away without these kids noticing him, he might just be able to avoid some unwanted complications-

  “Hey, wait!” Danny spoke up. “Harmon?”

  Kevin froze.

  “What the fuck?”

  He spun around to find that Danny had come forward and now stood with his arms spread wide, snarling at him. “You go missing for three days, and you think you're gonna just pop by and score some smokes?”

  Kevin winced, then pressed a fist to his forehead. “I'm fine,” he said, backing away from the other kids. “I was just…Look, I've got…I need to take care of a few things, that's all. I'll be fine.”

  “The whole damn school is looking for you.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  With a heavy sigh, Danny let his head hang. “Typical,” he said. “You know my dad always says people like you are god-damn irresponsible.”

  “People like me?”

  The other boy looked up with bared teeth, his cheeks flushing redder and redder. “Yeah, you heard me,” he growled. “Miss Sutherland's having a breakdown because you fucking took off.”

  Kevin felt heat in his own face. He reached up to grab the hood with both hands and slowly pulled it down. No sense in hiding now. “What I do and where I go is none of your god damn business.”

  Danny was hissing, tiny drops of spit flying from his lips. “Yeah, I bet it's not,” he said, striding forward at a brisk pace, closing the distance in a few seconds. “Someone's gotta teach you some respect.”

  He threw a punch.

  Kevin caught the guy's fist, and then – just like that – he had a flawless, intuitive understanding of the human nervous system. He could almost sense the electrical signals in Danny's body, trace every nerve-ending with his thoughts. It wasn't hard to set them on fire. Every last one.