Dirty Mirror

by R S Penney

  It was like watching his daughter learn to walk all over again. She had been reborn in that cavern beneath the moon's surface, and now she was learning all over again what her body could do.

  He had resisted the urge to clap.

  Standing in the shade of an elm tree with his hands shoved into the pockets of his beige pants, Harry frowned down at his shoes. “She wouldn't like that much,” he said, taking a few steps forward.

  For some strange reason, Melissa just stood there with the practice sword in one hand, staring blankly into the distance. She seemed to be in a daze. Jack's words hadn't been that hard on her.

  The boy – Harry still thought of Jack as the nephew he'd never had – was crouched in front of his gym bag with his back turned, muttering to himself. Maybe now would be a good time to give Melissa his congratulations.

  He made his way over to her.

  At the sound of his footsteps, Melissa squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if to clear the haze out of her mind. “Hey, Dad,” she said. “Don't take this the wrong way, but it's hard to practice when I know you're watching.”

  “Yeah, well,” he mumbled. “That doesn't change the fact that you were amazing. You've really learned to adapt.”

  “No, I haven't.”

  “Stop being so hard on yourself.”

  That came from Jack, who was striding toward them with a heavy sigh. “Even with Summer accelerating the rate at which I learned, I was still flailing about in my first fight with Pennfield.”

  Harry paused for a moment to consider that; he hadn't been there that night when Aamani had led Jack, Anna and a team of her best people to infiltrate Wesley Pennfield's skyscraper. He hadn't been forced to watch as the battle drones gunned down hardened CSIS operatives with casual disregard. There was a time when he would have considered himself lucky to have been spared such horrors, but after the skirmishes in New York, he could easily imagine the carnage.

  He always pictured Jack fighting off Pennfield in some epic duel like the ones you saw in movies, a contest where both fighters were evenly matched, but if Jack had been scrambling to keep up…

  “You're gonna do fine, kid,” Jack said. Something in the kid's voice…There was sadness there. Which almost certainly meant it had something to do with Anna.

  Harry let out a breath, shoulders slumping, then reached up to clam a hand onto the back of his neck. “Listen, Jack,” he said. “We haven't seen you in a while. Why don't you stop by for dinner later?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “That'd be nice.”

  Chapter 10

  The blue-walled office they had given him was decorated with posters that Jack had put up on his second day here. One depicted Luke Skywalker holding his signature green lightsaber, and next to him was Rey with her staff.

  On the opposite wall, a perfect recreation of Amazing Fantasy 15 was hung next to a poster of Buffy Summers with her stake drawn. And there were pop vinyls on the desk: Spider-Man, Ms. Marvel, Vin from Brandon Sanderson's amazing Mistborn books. Anna was right; decorating his office did make it feel more like home.

  Strange that he had never taken her advice until after they had stopped talking. It had been one of those things that he had always intended to get around to and somehow never found the time to do. Maybe following her suggestions was some sad attempt to hold onto her. Either way, he wasn't going to stop. He would follow every one. Because she made his life better…even after she was gone.

  Jack lounged in a chair with his feet propped up on the desk, a tablet held in front of his face. “So, you interrogated Cara,” he began. “Were you able to get anything useful out of her.”

  Twenty feet away, Cassiara stood with her arms folded, turned so that he saw her in profile. She seemed to be fascinated by the posters. “Nothing much,” she murmured. “No names or leads we could use to find other rogue Keepers.”

  Jack shut his eyes tight, trembling as he sucked in a deep breath. “Well, it's a start,” he said. “I'm not surprised they've got her playing Jar Jar to Slade's Palpatine; she broke easily under pressure.”

  “You realize I don't get any of these references, right?”

  “I know.”

  He stood up with a grunt, smoothing wrinkles from his shirt with one hand. Then he walked around the desk. “I guess it's just my way of holding on to some piece of my home,” he said. “If I'm right, then Cara was never told the names of Slade's other agents. Possibly because that's their general policy, or possibly because they just can't trust her with the information. Look how easily I played her.”

  Well…It wasn't exactly easy. Cara Sinthel was no fool; as a young Keeper, she had displayed a knack for tracking down terrorist cells, which was no small feat. But a talent for exposing secrets wasn't exactly the same as a talent for keeping them.

  As near as Jack could tell, Cara had lost faith in the Keepers as an institution when she joined up with Slade, and while some people might be able to smile the right smile, speak the right words and act as if everything was normal, Cara Sinthel just wasn't one of them. She spoke her mind.

  It wasn't so surprising, really. Nassai valued honesty and a disinclination toward duplicity in their hosts. If a Keeper betrayed their oath because they truly believed that what Slade was doing was right, then it stood to reason that some of them would have a hard time hiding that belief. “She's like me,” Jack went on. “She wears her heart on her sleeve…It's just her heart is in the wrong place.”

  Cassi turned to face him with her hands folded behind herself, bowing her head to him. “I think you're too quick to take her at face value,” she said. “It's possible that Cara is just very good at convincing you that she knows nothing.”

  Biting his lip, Jack squinted at her. “It's possible,” he said, nodding. “But I'm really not buying that theory.”

  He slipped his hands into his back pockets and moved past her, making his way to the office door. “If Cara is so good at playing us,” he began, “Why'd she fall for my sad attempt at psyching her out?”

  He spun around.

  Cassi was hunched over, reaching up to thread fingers through her short pink hair. “I don't know,” she answered. “Maybe she's feeling vulnerable now that Slade is dead.”

  “Could be?”

  “But you don't believe it?”

  Jack felt his mouth twist in distaste. “Not for a second,” he growled, his voice full of contempt. “Slade may have been the leader, but he had lieutenants, people who would make sure that the grand plan kept unfolding on schedule.”

  “So…”

  Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, Jack frowned down at himself. “So,” he said with a shrug. “For now, we carry on with what we would have done if we'd never had this conversation. Tomorrow, you and I will interrogate Cara together.”

  When he looked up, Cassi was smiling at him, her violet eyes practically sparkling in the harsh light. “Well, at least we'll be doing something together,” she said. “Don't look now, but this partnership might be working.”

  “Once again, I'm sorry for the lone-wolf routine.”

  “It's all right.”

  Jack stepped forward with his head down, clearing his throat roughly. “Look, if we are going to be partners,” he managed, “then maybe we should get to know one another. I already have dinner plans, but I'll be meeting my friend Ben for a drink later. Care to join us?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I would like that.”

  “What did you say this thing was called?”

  In her mind's eye, Melissa saw her father as a figure of swirling mist who stood in their living room with his arms folded. “A Talis Ring,” he answered. “It's a symbol of the Covenant of Layat.”

  As a devout Catholic, it fascinated her to find so many similarities between Leyrian religions and those of her own world. The Church of the Holy Companion was founded over seven hundred years ago by a woman named Layat who was said to have performed miracles and taught the virtues of pacifism, charity and fo
rgiveness.

  It was a monotheistic faith with a loving god who granted salvation to anyone who tried to overcome their sins. Though an interesting quirk was the Companion himself…or themself. According to official texts, the Companion was neither male nor female, though adherents of the faith were allowed to picture their god in any way that pleased them.

  Some people would say that such similarities were simply a quirk of the human condition – somewhere in the human brain was a collection of neurons that provided the impulse toward religion – but Melissa saw a cosmic order. A purpose to things. The individual trappings of a religion weren't important. It was the message at the core that really mattered. Perhaps Jesus and Layat were, in fact, the same person. Why shouldn't the Messiah visit all the worlds where God's children prospered?

  Melissa sat at the desk in the corner with her hands on the keyboard, a rectangular sheet of SmartGlass on a metal stand acting as the screen. “I'm looking it up now,” she said. “What's the Leyrian Wikipedia?”

  Her father grunted.

  “There,” she said. “A Talis Ring.”

  Harry came closer, resting one hand on the back of her chair and leaning over her shoulder to study the image. “Interesting,” he said. “The woman I spoke to said she saw a man with that ring wandering about the neighbourhood where our suspect got into the car that would take him to the farm.”

  Touching her thumb and her forefinger to the screen, Melissa spread them apart to enlarge the image. The ring was just a simple band of iron with the insignia of the Layati inscribed on it.

  Tapping her lips with one finger, Melissa shut her eyes. “Hold on a moment,” she said, sliding her chair closer to the desk. “It says here that not all denominations of the faith wear this ring. It shows up mostly in the Rokath and Lekanthi sects.”

  “Yes?”

  Melissa swiveled in her chair, craning her neck to stare up at her father. “Don't you remember?” she asked, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “Miles Tarso – the man whose access codes were used to subvert the farm's security systems – is a church-going man. I looked up his profile the other day.”

  Swiping her finger across the screen, she flung the picture of the Talis Ring aside and brought up the desktop. A few quick taps at the icons displayed allowed her to access this computer's version of a web-browser…Link-browser. Whatever! She could get used to the new nomenclature later.

  She Googled…er, um…searched for Miles Tarso's social media profile and found a plethora of pictures of him at church picnics, at parties and dinners with other members of the congregation. And of course, there were plenty of pictures of Tarso with his family, and some of him working with other technicians on the vertical farm systems.

  Beneath a well-shot profile picture where Mr. Tarso stood in front of a tree with a great big smile on his face, his biographical information listed him as a member of the First Church of the Holy Companion, which preached the Covenant of Layat in the Lekanthi tradition.

  “You see where I'm going with this, Dad,” Melissa asked. “A suspicious man with a Talis Ring is snooping around the same neighbourhood where our bomber got into a car that would take him to the vertical farm. The bomber used Miles Tarso's security codes to bypass the farm's system, and Tarso just happens to attend a church where the clergy all wear Talis Rings.”

  Her father wore a great big grin as he stood before her with his head bowed. “I'd say you just made a significant connection,” he replied. “So, Detective, what would your next move be?”

  “Simple,” Melissa said. “We interview people at that church.”

  “You're getting the hang of this.”

  At that moment, Claire came running into the living room from the front hallway, slamming into Harry so she could throw her arms around him. “Oh my god, Dad!” she squealed. “School today was so fun! We got to make holograms!”

  Harry smiled down at his youngest daughter, chuckling softly. “Holograms?” he said, patting Claire's back. “How do you make those.”

  Stepping out of his embrace, Claire looked up at him with those huge dark eyes of hers. “There's this program on the computer,” she began. “And it lets you…What are you guys working on?”

  “Your sister is learning to be a Justice Keeper.”

  “Lame!”

  Normally, that would have irked Melissa, but her spirits were so high just now, she couldn't help but laugh at it. Claire could give anyone a hard time, but nothing could spoil her good mood.

  “Go get cleaned up,” Harry said. “Jack's coming for dinner.”

  “He's lame too!”

  Tossing her head back, Melissa rolled her eyes. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my sister.” She let out a soft sigh of frustration. “The most aggravating person on not one, but two planets.”

  Claire stuck her tongue out.

  Before Melissa could say one word, the girl turned and ran to the foot of the stairs where she proceeded to stomp her way up to the second level. Claire was ten years old now; at some point, this “I make it a point to annoy everyone in my life” phase of hers had to end, right? Right?

  When the doorbell rang, Harry made his way over to the front hallway and let Jack in. Melissa caught the soft murmur of two voices talking, but she couldn't make out what they were saying, and that irritated her even more than Claire's practiced petulance. He was probably just saying his hellos, but she hated not knowing.

  A moment later, Jack stepped into the living room with a great big grin on his face. “Hey, kid,” he said, nodding to her. “Your father tells me you made a huge breakthrough on the case.”

  Blushing hard, Melissa squeezed her eyes shut. “He's exaggerating,” she muttered, getting out of the chair. “I just noticed a pattern in several pieces of evidence we gathered and put together a plausible narrative.”

  “Melissa,” Jack said.

  “Yeah?”

  “That's called 'detective work.' ”

  Her father was leaning against the staircase railing with his arms crossed, smiling down at himself. “It's no use, Jack,” he said. “She's as bad as you are when it comes to not taking a compliment.”

  “Well, then I'm suing,” Jack said. “Because I've patented that.”

  If she had been blushing hard before, her face was on fire now. Damn it, why couldn't she just say “Thank you” like a normal human being. Oh well. At least she was making progress in one aspect of her professional life, anyway. Jeez, things had become so very complicated in the last few months. Here she was, just seventeen years old, and she was already using phrases like “professional life.”

  “Thanks, you guys,” Melissa said. “Come on. I bet Michael has dinner ready.”

  “I hate that robot,” Harry muttered.

  A large arch-shaped window with metal grating over its pane looked out on a patio where lanterns hanging from poles cast soft yellow light on round tables with umbrellas to shelter customers from the elements. People sat out there now, laughing, talking, lifting drinks in a toast.

  Inside, the bar was hopping with a few dozen twenty-somethings shuffling about on the dance floor. Just the way Ben liked it. He was the kind of guy who liked to cut loose when it was time to relax, which was why – in a moment of unparalleled genius – he had come here with a man who wanted to mope.

  Ben leaned over the table with his arms folded, smiling and shaking his head. “So, you're just going to sit there,” he asked. “You do understand that the purpose of going out was to take your mind off your troubles.”

  Jack sat across from him in that light brown coat of his, frowning as he stared dead ahead at nothing in particular. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I guess I'm really not feeling the party spirit tonight.”

  No kidding.

  By this point, Ben knew his friend well enough to know that Jack would be making some stupid wisecrack if he felt anything like his normal self. How exactly did you help a man get over the loss of his best friend? Especially when said best friend was als
o the woman he loved.

  “They have a games table,” Ben suggested.

  If Jack heard him, the man gave no sign of it. Instead, he just stared blankly into the distance as if he had been hypnotized. Not good. Ben still had moments when he felt like his chest would cave in from the pain of losing Darrel; he really wasn't in a place to help anyone else through this.

  Jack scowled, giving his head a shake, coming back to reality. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I was thinking about ways we could put pressure on Cara to name a few more of Slade's operatives if she knows them.”

  “Really? That's what you were thinking about?”

  “Well, it's-”

  Closing his eyes, Ben buried his nose in the palm of his hand. “Listen to me, Jack,” he said. “Tonight is supposed to be about having fun.”

  When he looked up, Jack seemed crestfallen. The man refused to make eye contact and just sat there with his shoulders slumped. “I'm not in the mood for fun. I just want to keep myself busy.”

  Ben stood up.

  Slapping his hand down on the table, he turned away from the other man and put some distance between them. “Well, then get in the mood for fun!” His voice sounded a lot harsher than he would have intended.

  Ben spun around to face his friend with his mouth agape. “Maybe you just want to sit here and mope,” he went on. “But did it occur to you that you're not the only one who's in pain, and that I put aside my own-”

  He cut off when he noticed someone behind Jack – a woman in a pink, strapless dress to match her pink hair. She was quite short, only slightly taller than Anna, but she walked through the place as if she were a giant. Well, hello there…The stare she directed at Jack…Ben felt a moment of excitement when he contemplated the possibility that his friend might get laid tonight.

  Jack seemed to notice her too because he twisted around in his chair to look over his shoulder. “You made it!” he exclaimed. “I'm glad! For a little while there, I thought I was going to have to attend Ben's lecture on what a boring person I am. And he's quite the stickler; he'd make me take notes.”