Mystique's Journey
Page 9
“Yes, I found the box last night. I admit I was a little surprised. You didn’t sound like you had any intention of returning any of them,” Mystique replied as she took a quick look around the office. It was small compared to most of the offices she had been in over the last few days, a mere ten-by-fifteen. A large desk occupied most of one end with a couple of glass-enclosed cases lining the walls at the other end. In the cases, Mystique recognized an assortment of weapons and drug paraphernalia. A small and uncomfortable-looking chair awaited her, facing the desk.
“Please have a seat.”
“Thank you, but I would prefer to stand.”
“Very well. This shouldn’t take long. My request that you be expelled was denied, so I am stuck with you at least until you hurt someone else,” Lt. MacDonald stated, almost challenging Mystique to argue with him. She had expected something like this and didn’t let it faze her. She simply smiled at the lieutenant.
“I have been informed that a case worker has been assigned to keep you out of trouble. Her name is Cynthia Swansong. She will be arriving sometime this morning and I expect she will want to speak with you,” Lt. MacDonald informed Mystique.
“You may think you’re someone special, but there are a lot of kids from important families here and just one of them takes offense to you and you’re out. Remember that next time you think about kicking the crap out of someone,” Lt. MacDonald told her as he stepped around his desk and pulled the door open.
“Thank you. I will keep that in mind,” Mystique said in a low, emotionless voice that sent a chill down Lt. MacDonald’s spine. He had never been scared of any punk kid, but something about the way Mystique said her last comment scared him. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until after Mystique had left the outer office and the door was closed behind her.
***
Mystique was about to go to lunch went her phone buzzed softly. A few days ago she would have known who was calling before she even looked at the screen, but now too many people had her number. Instinctively, Mystique stepped into an alcove created for one of the classroom doors before she answered the call.
“Hello, Miss Grayson? This is Cynthia Swansong,” the woman on the other end said. “I would like to meet with you. I have been assigned to you by the ambassador.”
“I am on my way to the cafeteria if you want to join me,” Mystique replied.
“I was thinking someplace a little more private where we could discuss your case,” Cynthia countered.
“Have you read my file?” Mystique asked in her predatory low tone. She had let one lawyer lure her into a trap—it wasn’t going to happen again so easily.
“Not completely. I have only had a chance to skim over it,” Cynthia confessed. Mystique thought she detected annoyance in Cynthia’s tone.
“The last person who wanted to talk to me in private lured me into a trap and I was shot. I think the cafeteria will be private enough,” Mystique informed Cynthia, deciding not to threaten her.
“Very well. I will be there shortly,” Cynthia replied before hanging up.
Mystique recognized Cynthia as soon as she walked into the cafeteria. She was only about five-foot-four and one hundred pounds, but even in her business suit she had the look of a fashion model. Her hair was cut short, which showed off her delicate facial features. She stopped just inside the cafeteria and looked around. Most of the boys turned to stare at and admire her. A few had the courage to try and start a conversation with her. She ignored all of them as she looked around for Mystique.
Mystique waited a minute until it was obvious that Cynthia didn’t recognize her before she stood up and walked over. “Miss Swansong?” Mystique asked, before motioning to where she’d been eating.
Miss Swansong followed Mystique to the table where her tray was still sitting. Cynthia was a little amazed that no one else was sitting at the table. The cafeteria wasn’t packed, but it was full and Mystique had a table for four all to herself. Cynthia took the seat opposite Mystique’s tray while Mystique slid back into her chair.
“Miss Swansong, I am not sure why you were assigned to watch over me, and I don’t really like the idea. I just want to be left alone so I can study,” Mystique informed Cynthia, deciding the best way to begin their relationship was to be straightforward.
“Please call me Cynthia. I have been assigned as your legal advisor. I am not here to watch over you,” Cynthia protested with a smile that Mystique couldn’t determine was genuine or fake.
“Cynthia, since you haven’t read my file, I will tell you a little about me so you don’t feel it necessary to continue lying to me. I have been genetically enhanced and trained in hand-to-hand combat. The process has left me with violent tendencies, which means I am just as likely to kill you as talk to you, so annoying me is not recommended. My education is my main concern at this time,” Mystique told her in the low, emotionless voice she had discovered worked so well to make people believe she was dangerous.
“Well, that does explain a few things. I was not aware of your background, simply that you were to be kept out of trouble. I’ll be in the library reading your file most of the day. I also have an appointment with Lieutenant MacDonald. Is there anything else you want to tell me or ask me?”
“Yeah, my sister is the important member of the family; any questions you have about my family, you ask your boss. I don’t expect to get into any more trouble, so my need for your services should be very limited,” Mystique stated as she finished her lunch and stood up. Cynthia collected her things and also stood. She really wanted to read Mystique’s file and find out if anything Mystique had said was the truth. No way would anyone waste the money on genetically enhancing a teenage girl.
“After classes I have a judo lesson. We can talk again after that. I would like to know what Lieutenant MacDonald has to say,” Mystique informed Cynthia, trying to sound pleasant.
“Sure. I’ll probably have a few questions by then,” Cynthia said as she pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it to Mystique. “Call me when you’re ready.”
***
Cynthia was waiting for Mystique outside the locker room when she arrived for her lesson. She didn’t realize Mystique had arrived until Mystique asked her why she was there. “The school has removed you from all martial arts classes. They consider you too dangerous to continue training,” Cynthia explained.
“Bleen, what’s next—no gym class?” Mystique said, annoyed.
“I thought you might be upset, so I contacted the embassy. Major Castleman will arrange for training sessions whenever you want them. All you have to do is call and he’ll have a car pick you up. He knows about your special qualifications and will make sure your training takes them into account.” Cynthia waited for Mystique’s reaction before she continued. “My boss wanted me to remind you that you aren’t supposed to be telling people about your special skills. He was a little annoyed when he found out you’d told me about them.”
“He would rather have you trying to do your job without critical information? Do you have transportation?” Mystique asked, dropping into the low-toned voice.
“Yes, why?” Cynthia replied, concern creeping into her mind.
“I want to talk to your boss and Major Castleman in person.”
“My car is in the visitor’s lot. This way,” Cynthia replied as she motioned for Mystique to follow her. Cynthia was not used to taking orders from a girl eight years younger than her. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong to be assigned this duty, but she did know she wanted off it as soon as possible. Cynthia was used to working with professionals, not psychotic teenagers.
The ride to the embassy was not what Cynthia had expected. She’d feared Mystique would ask her a bunch of questions that she didn’t have the answer for, or was permitted to answer. Instead Mystique had sat quietly in the passenger’s seat watching out the window. Cynthia found it easy to forget she had a passenger, which allowed her to think about her plans for the evening.
Mystique handed her ID to Cynthia, who handed it to the guard. The guard slotted the ID into a handheld reader and waited for the results. A few seconds later, the guard’s demeanor changed from relaxed to strictly professional. He removed Mystique’s ID from the reader and handed it back to her.
“Ambassador Quinn would like to know if there’s a problem,” the guard asked Mystique.
“Yeah, Miss Swansong wasn’t given the information she needs to do her job. So either she’s not qualified, or her boss is being stupid,” Mystique calmly replied.
“Ambassador Quinn will be waiting for you in his office,” the guard instructed before stepping back and waving Cynthia on. Cynthia was professional enough not to let the shock of the conversation show on her face. She’d only met Ambassador Quinn twice and each time she’d simply been escorting others to see him. Cynthia wasn’t sure how she felt about being the reason for her next meeting.
Cynthia led Mystique up to Ambassador Quinn’s office. Miss Farnsworth instructed them to go right in but Mystique stopped before one of the guards in powered armor.
“Alex, I’m loaded. Do you want me to remove all my weapons before entering?” Mystique asked the guard.
“Yes please,” the guard responded. Cynthia stopped and waited as Mystique walked over to a side table and started removing the knives and throwing spikes she had hidden about her body. Cynthia watched in amazement as Mystique placed four knives and nine throwing spikes on the table. Mystique noticed Cynthia’s reaction and gave her a quick smile that looked more like a smirk.
“A girl has to be prepared to defend herself,” was all Mystique said in explanation.
“Thank you,” the guard responded as Mystique walked passed him into Ambassador Quinn’s office.
“Hello, Mystique. I pulled up Miss Swansong’s credentials and nothing indicates she’s not qualified, except for the fact that her security clearance barely meets the requirement. Can you give me a better explanation of the problem?” Ambassador Quinn requested pleasantly.
“Yes, Miss Swansong was led to believe she was going to be babysitting a spoiled rich brat with a habit of getting into trouble. She had no idea the serious nature of any trouble I may get into. She wasn’t told by her supervisor of my enhancements or the problems they’ve caused, and when he found out I told her, he asked her to remind me not to tell people about them. I’m guessing she knows nothing about Angelica or Daemon, which I think she should understand at least a little. And the school won’t let me continue my martial arts training,” Mystique explained.
“Sir, the head of security at the school is also working on getting Mystique expelled,” Cynthia added. “I believe Mrs. Montagu is assisting him.”
“I see. Miss Swansong, now that you have met Mystique, are you willing to continue as her guardian? It could be a very boring assignment, or very stressful; there is no way of telling which it will turn out to be. I can state that a certain amount of prestige will befall anyone associated with the Graysons. I can’t say more until I have your answer,” Ambassador Quinn explained to Cynthia.
Cynthia took only few moments to weigh the pros and cons of taking the assignment. Mystique was genetically enhanced, which meant that whoever her sister was, she was very important. Important people tended to know one another, so this could be her best chance to meet some of the true movers while she was still young enough to possibly land one as a husband, or at least a sugar daddy.
“I believe this would be a good opportunity for me, and appreciate your confidence in my abilities.”
“Very good. From now on you report to me or Mrs. Farnsworth. I will make the necessary changes to your security clearance. I will have Major Castleman upgrade your weapons permits and arrange for training. Mrs. Farnsworth will have your new computer and phone tomorrow. She’ll contact you when to pick them up. Miss Swansong, Angelica Grayson, Mystique’s older sister, is the most powerful psionic healer on the planet, and most likely in this sector. The safety of her and her family are of the highest importance. Do you understand?” Ambassador Quinn demanded as he made it perfectly clear how important he believed the situation to be.
“Yes, sir,” Cynthia replied. She remained calm and in control on the outside, while in her mind dozens of thoughts struggled to be heard.
“Lawrence, could I get some of that training? The school has decided I am already too dangerous, so they are refusing to teach me any more martial arts. Miss Swansong has already spoken to Major Castleman and arranged for some training, but I would really like to learn how to shoot,” Mystique requested. Cynthia’s mind picked up on Mystique’s use of Ambassador Quinn’s first name and missed everything said after that. Cynthia was normally more professional, but was allowing herself to be distracted since their conversation didn’t involve her and she was recording it and could listen more closely later. She couldn’t believe how much her life had changed in one day.
Someone snapped their fingers in Cynthia’s face, bringing her focus back to the room and the people around her. Her face immediately turned a bright shade of red as she realized it was Ambassador Quinn who had snapped his fingers. “Try to stay with us. I know it’s a lot to process, but you are going to have to keep up here,” Ambassador Quinn scolded Cynthia.
“Please show Mystique to security and introduce her to Major Castleman,” Ambassador Quinn instructed. Mystique nodded to Ambassador Quinn before turning and leading Cynthia out of his office.
Mystique didn’t say a word as she stopped at the table and started concealing her weapons about her person. Cynthia was amazed at how easily Mystique was making the different-sized items disappear. When Mystique was finished, she turned and headed toward the door only to stop and wish Mrs. Farnsworth and the guards a good day. Another rule Mystique’s mother had taught her and that she couldn’t find fault with was to always try to be nice and respectful, even if you don’t want to be.
In the hallway Mystique turned and took an appraising look at Cynthia. Before Cynthia even realized Mystique was moving, Mystique had Cynthia’s nose pinched between the knuckles of her right index and middle fingers. Mystique squeezed just a little and pulled Cynthia’s face close to hers.
“I come from a very violent society and a slight warning is the most you ever get before something bad happens. I was warned that my life may be in danger and since you are now part of my life, yours is also in danger. Your peaceful, simple life ended the moment you accepted this assignment. From now on, if I catch you daydreaming and unaware of your surroundings, I’m going to hit you. Do you understand?” Mystique whispered to Cynthia before letting go of her nose.
“We’re not in your violent society. People don’t go around hitting and threatening each other,” Cynthia stated as she gently rubbed her nose. Mystique snorted in response and then headed toward the elevator. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she didn’t expect security to be on this floor.
The trip to security central was quiet as Cynthia nursed her nose and Mystique followed, noting the path they took. Security was in the basement with express elevators to the first and third floors. They also were able to access the three normal elevators. The main room looked more like a gym, boasting free weights and exercise machines. Various weapons, from riot shields to heavy assault rifles, lined the walls in locked cradles. A boxing ring and a wrestling mat took up most of one end of the room. Mystique spotted four doors, three normal and one armored. Cynthia was headed straight for the armored door.
The door swung open and an older man in light armor stepped out. The name Castleman was stenciled on his left breastplate. He was only an inch or two taller than Mystique, with an average build. His short black hair was streaked with gray above the ears, giving him a distinguished appearance. He had the look o
f a man who had lived a hard life.
“Good evening, ladies. My name is Major Castleman; you can call me Major,” Major Castleman greeted them, offering his hand. Cynthia reached out and gently shook his hand as she introduced herself and Mystique.
“Miss Grayson, are you using some kind of jamming device? Our cameras and sensors are having trouble keeping track of you,” Castleman inquired, looking over Mystique.
“The effect is part of my enhancements. I have to think about it to stop it from happening,” Mystique explained.
“All right. I read what I could of your file. Some of it is still under review to determine who needs to know what. I hope you don’t mind if I ask a few questions. I assure you my security clearance is high enough to hear any information you’re willing to share with me,” Castleman explained. The little he had read about Mystique made it clear that she was a new citizen of New Sydney.
“Sure. Is there someplace a little more private we can talk?” Mystique replied.
“Right this way,” Castleman said as he led the way to his office. Major Castleman’s office was more of a war museum than an office. He had six cabinets full of various weapons, from ancient knives to modern pistols. Mystique even spotted a few items she thought were explosives. One item caught her attention that looked like a claw or talon from some kind of predator. The claw was at least seven inches long with barbs growing out of the sides. Castleman realized Mystique’s interest and stepped up next to her while Cynthia took a seat near the old wooden desk major Castleman used.
“That claw came from a creature that attacked a transport ship I was on. Nobody knows how it got onboard or why it waited until we entered jump space to attack. The thing killed over two dozen soldiers before we were able to kill it. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since, and to tell the truth I would like to keep it that way,” Castleman explained.
“The creature attacked your ship in jump space. It wasn’t hiding on you ship waiting; it boarded while you were in jump space. You’re very lucky it was easy to kill—most of the creatures that live in jump space would have easily killed everyone onboard,” Mystique informed major Castleman in a calm, analytical voice. Castleman would have thought any such claim was insane, but the way Mystique talked made him wonder.