Dirty Mirror

by R S Penney

  Perhaps, she was more concerned with getting out.

  Tapping at the screen of her multi-tool, Anna activated the building's PA system. “Third floor, east stairwell,” Anna shouted. “She's here.”

  And then she chased after Isara.

  Chapter 26

  When the fog receded from Harry's mind, he found himself in dreadful pain. It was like someone had dropped a pile of bricks on his chest, and now he could barely breathe. Trying to sort out the logistics of how he had ended up in this condition was beyond him at this point.

  His vision slowly came into focus, a hazy smear of colours slowly resolving into a woman in black who stood over his bed with arms folded. Not his daughter. Larani Tal. Why was she here?

  She wore an ugly scowl as she stared down at him, shaking her head in dismay. “I think we have a few things to talk about, Mr. Carlson,” she said. “Like the specifics of your skirmish with Cara Sinthel.”

  Harry felt his face twist, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “I tried to stop them,” he wheezed, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. “She was…Someone had to do something. I had the N'Jal.”

  The N'Jal…

  He felt a brief moment of panic at the thought that they might have taken it away from him, but the Overseer device was still firmly attached to his palm. Why hadn't they removed it? Taken it from him. No one really liked the fact that he had kept the thing, but they had tolerated it since he was the only one who could use it.

  “And why were you in the cell?”

  Grinding his teeth, Harry drew in a soft hissing breath. The pain was intense, and his anxiety seemed to make it worse. “Isara…I wanted to know about the N'Jal,” he said. “And…About Jena.”

  Larani stood with her arms crossed, her eyes fixed upon the floor. “You loved her, didn't you?” The words were so soft he might have imagined them. “It rips you up to see a murderer with her face.”

  “I…”

  Did he love Jena?

  The question was oddly specific, specific enough to tickle his detective's instincts. Could it be…Was Larani…It was too hard to form a coherent thought, but somehow, he suspected there was something between Larani and Jena.

  “It's not what you think,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “Yes, Mr. Carlson, I did have feelings for her, but it was one-sided. She never knew.”

  “How?”

  The tiny smile on Larani's face told him that he had just asked a stupid question. “You aren't the only one who spent twenty years in law-enforcement,” she said. “After a while, we start to think alike.”

  “Why didn't you tell her?”

  Laughing softly, Larani fell into the chair at the foot of his bed and doubled over. “I am not the sort of woman who breaks up relationships,” she answered. “Jena was happy with you, and I had other concerns.”

  Harry could understand that; mere weeks after Jena had arrived on Earth, Larani had become acting Chief Director, and shortly after that – after Slade's betrayal had been confirmed – the promotion became permanent. A good manager just did not fraternize with their subordinates.

  “You realize you've left me with a bit of a predicament,” Larani said. “Just the other day, I revoked Mr. Loranai's clearance for doing exactly what you did.”

  “And what do you plan to do with me?”

  “I don't know.”

  Placing a hand over his chest, Harry spasmed as he coughed. The pain that brought was enough to cloud his vision with tears. “I broke the rules,” he whispered. “You should exercise your authority in whatever way you see fit.”

  Larani sat forward with elbows on her knees, her chin resting on laced fingers. “I am not so concerned with rules,” she began. “I'm more concerned with doing things right. With rules that make sense.”

  She lifted her forearm and began tapping at her multi-tool, a look of concentration on her face. “It shouldn't surprise you to know that holding cells are monitored,” she said. “The security cameras were running while you spoke with Isara.”

  A hologram appeared between them, displaying a wide-angle shot of Harry down on one knee with his hand on the back of Isara's neck. The woman was lying flat on her stomach and thrashing in pain.

  “What do you make of this, Mr. Carlson?”

  Harry winced.

  “Well…”

  He turned his head so that his cheek was pressed to the pillow and let out a grunt. “I have no excuse,” he said. “It's exactly what it looks like. I was inflicting pain to make her tell me what she knew.”

  “Torture.”

  Harry would have preferred not to use that word, but there was no sense in dancing around the point. Torture was what it was. “Yes,” he admitted. “Something that I would never condone for anyone-”

  “Who didn't wear the face of your dead girlfriend,” Larani said. “Or maybe it's the blood on Isara's hands that makes you feel justified in your actions.”

  Larani stood up and heaved out a breath. “Have you considered another possibility, Mr. Carlson?” she asked. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps you are not so immune to the N'Jal's influence.”

  “I don't know what you mean.”

  “I should think it would be obvious.” She turned on her heel and began pacing a line at the foot of his bed. Something in her posture told Harry that she was really quite uneasy. “Does torture sound like something Harry Carlson would do? I've read your file, Mr. Carlson; I made it a point to familiarize myself with everyone on Jena's team.”

  He had to admit that it didn't sound like him. It was the sort of thing that he would never have imagined doing, not once. Not ever. And yet…The image of himself in that cell, tormenting Isara like a psychopathic twelve-year-old who had decided to rip a worm in half just to see what would happen was something that he couldn't get out of his head. “Why didn't you take it from me?” Harry asked. “The N'Jal.”

  “Surgically removing a N'Jal has been known to put a great deal of stress on the patient,” Larani answered. “You were already choking on your own blood. You would have died if Operative Velarese hadn't found you and declared a medical emergency.”

  “My daughters?”

  “Melissa has been notified that you're all right and that you're expected to make a full recovery.” Larani turned to face him, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “You are very lucky, Mr. Carlson.”

  “What about Isara?”

  “Gone,” Larani said. “She leaped through a window on the second floor, and now she's somewhere out in the city.”

  Harry raised his left hand, and with a thought, he ordered the N'Jal to disengage. There was a slight tingling sensation as its fibers retracted, and then a thin sheet of flesh in the shape of a hand fell onto his chest.

  It quickly rolled up into a little ball.

  Closing his eyes, Harry breathed slowly. “Take it,” he said in a hoarse voice. “You were right; that thing has been influencing my thoughts.” He didn't feel as if his thoughts had been influenced in any way; in fact, he felt like himself. Good old Harry Carlson, the cop with the stick up his butt.

  But if he was torturing people.

  Are you sure that's not just a convenient excuse? he asked himself. Blame the N'Jal for your own failings?

  It was a surprise to him when Larani didn't accept his offer. Granted, most people were unwilling to touch the N'Jal with bare skin – Kevin Harmon had made that mistake – but surely Larani would have left to fetch a HAZMAT team or something along those lines.

  When he opened his eyes, the woman was still standing there, still frowning down at him. “I'm afraid it's not that simple, Mr. Carlson,” she said. “I was there with you, on Earth's moon, if you recall. Your ability to interface with Overseer technology is the only reason we're still alive.”

  “I…” He coughed. “I remember.”

  “This is an advantage we cannot afford to lose. You walk a dangerous line, Mr. Carlson.” She turned her back on him and made her way to the door
that led out to the hallway, pausing there for a moment. “By rights, I should press charges for what you've done.”

  “Yes…You should.”

  “I won't because I'm fairly certain that even with the video evidence, a jury won't convict you. Isara has become somewhat infamous; news reports of the strange woman who shot up Denabrian University have stirred up quite a panic. I suspect that may have been the point. But have a care…Violate a prisoner's rights on my watch a second time, and I won't be nearly so lenient.”

  Harry breathed out a sigh.

  When she stepped through the door to her father's room in the Medical Centre, Melissa found him lying on the bed with his eyes closed, breathing softly. Sound asleep so far as she could tell. She toyed with the idea of waking him but decided it would be better to let him get his rest. Her father, on the other hand, had other plans.

  Harry placed a hand over his heart, turning his head so that she saw him in profile. “Hey, kiddo,” he grunted in a strained voice. “Sorry I gave you such a scare.

  Crossing her arms, Melissa frowned down at her father. “You're crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “What in God's name would compel you to take on not one but two Keepers at the same time?”

  “Hubris?”

  Melissa chuckled.

  Her father looked all right, though the doctors had told her that he would have to take it easy for a month. Thankfully, Leyrian medical tech was more advanced than what they had back home. Harry would make a full recovery.

  “I wanted to know…” Harry said. “About Isara.”

  With her mouth open, Melissa looked up to blink at the ceiling. “So, you decided to bust into her cell and interrogate her?” she grumbled. “You realize this woman has been tortured, right? Standard cop techniques not gonna cut it.”

  Melissa sank into the chair across from the foot of the bed, setting her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands. “I'm not gonna get on your case about doing dangerous things – I'm hardly one to talk – but could you at least wait until Claire is just a little bit older before you get yourself killed?”

  Her father smiled, wheezing and gasping as his body shook with laughter. “Come on,” he said. “My job put me in dangerous positions before. You girls handled it just fine if I recall.”

  “We had Mom back then,” she said. “And Grandpa, and Nan. Maybe you forgot, but Mom is five hundred lightyears away.”

  “Fair point.”

  Of course, Melissa's head would choose that moment to flare up with pain. Another reaction to Ilia accelerating the rate at which she learned. Those headaches were now less severe than they had been just a few days ago – she assumed that meant she was reaching a plateau in her training – but her luck would a flash of pain to remind her of her own dangerous choices just when she had lectured her father about doing the same thing. “Did you learn anything useful?”

  Harry shook his head. “No,” he said. “The woman has an iron will. It shouldn't surprise me, given…”

  “Yeah.”

  Melissa stood up.

  She made her way over to the bed, then bent over to press her lips to her father's forehead. “Get some rest,” she said. “Claire is with the Savilis. I've got a few things that I need to do.”

  She turned to go.

  It was time to put an end to this once and for all. From what she had heard, Isara had smashed and trashed her way out of this building, knocking down everyone in her way, including Anna. That was no small feat; Anna was one of the best.

  The sad reality was that the only person who had any shot of putting Isara down was someone who thought like Isara. Jena would have been able to do it, but fate was a cruel mistress. They didn't have Jena anymore.

  But they did have the next best thing.

  The orange ball hit the wall and then bounced off, flying back to Ben's outstretched hand. He closed his fingers around it. That was thirty-seven. At this rate, he was probably going to leave scratch marks on the wall. Not that it mattered all that much. Such things were easily fixed.

  In black pants and a gray t-shirt, Ben sat on a stool in his living room with his head down. His dark hair was cut short and parted in the middle. “You should give it a try,” he said, throwing the ball again. “It's fun.”

  Light through the large window that looked out on his front lawn illuminated the big easy chair and the glass coffee table. This place had finally begun to feel like home; six months ago, when he had first moved in after being released from police custody, he had thought that staying was out of the question.

  But then all his friends moved to Leyria…

  Keli was in the corner with her arms folded, her head turned to direct a frown out the window. “You're going to drive yourself mad,” she muttered. “You're already driving me mad with that noise.”

  Ben squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through his nose. “It's not like there's much else to do,” he muttered. “I made sure of that, now didn't I? Ruined any chance we had of being useful.”

  “Stop sulking; it's unbecoming.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  The woman forced out a breath and strode across the room with her arms swinging, passing in front of the window. “You want to do something useful?” she asked. “Gather some of those wonderful tools I saw you use on Ganymede, find Isara and kill her. I'd be more than happy to help.”

  News of the woman's escape had come this morning when a furious Jack had called to give him an update. Ben didn't know why his friend bothered; it wasn't as though there was any chance of regaining Larani's trust. It seemed that Jack was just the sort of person who wanted to believe that the people he cared about would overcome their differences.

  Keli wasn't much help in that regard. In the days since his dismissal, Ben had spent most of his time with her, and the woman talked of little except how ill-prepared Leyrians were for the threats that lurked beyond the edges of known space. Truth be told, she was beginning to sound like one of the Sons of Savard.

  “I heard that,” Keli said. “If you believe I'm anything like those idiots who insist on dressing up and playing revolutionary, then you really don't know me.”

  Touching his fingertips to his forehead, Ben shut his eyes. “You're really something else,” he muttered. “How many times have I asked you to stay out of my head? Must be at least fifty by now.”

  “I can hardly help it if you insist on broadcasting your thoughts.”

  He threw the ball again, watched as it bounced off the wall and then caught it on its return flight. Thirty-nine. Keli was antsy; he didn't have to be a telepath to see that much. When she wasn't talking about her disdain for the Justice Keeper – and Leyria in general – she was listing all the reasons why Isara had to die. “Why do you hate her so much?” he wondered aloud. If the woman was going to read his mind against his wishes, then he may as well voice his thoughts. “Didn't she save you from people who wanted to dump you back in another cell?”

  Before he could throw the ball again, Keli positioned herself in front of him and stood with hands clasped behind herself, her head bowed. “Have you seen an Overseer?” she asked. “Have you come face to face with one of those monstrosities?”

  “No,” Ben said. “I mean…There was an Overseer in the Key when we tried to take control of it, but I didn't see-”

  “I have seen them.” The look on her face was frightening; her cheek twitched, and her forehead glistened with sweat. “More than once; believe me when I tell you that they desire our extermination, and Isara serves them.”

  “That doesn't make sense.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  Ben wrinkled his nose, then shook his head vigorously. “If the Overseers wanted to destroy us,” he began, “they could do so. Their technology is so far beyond ours we can't even comprehend it.”

  A knock at the door spared him from further elaboration. Now, who could that be? Jack came by once every few days, but always in the evenings, and it was only just past lunchtime. “Come in
!”

  He got off his stool and turned to find the door in his kitchen swinging slowly inward. His “front door” was actually built into the side of the house. A curious features, but he didn't really mind it. It struck him that only recently had he begun to evaluate the house's design. For the longest time, he hadn't planned on staying.

  When the door was open, he found Melissa Carlson standing before him in a pair of gray jeans and a matching tank-top. The girl's face was flushed, and she seemed unable to take her eyes off the welcome mat. “Hi, Ben.”

  “Melissa.”

  “I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

  Clasping his hands together behind his back, Ben studied the girl with pursed lips. “Oh, not really,” he said with a shrug. “I was just in the middle of putting a nice dent in my living room wall. Care to join me.”

  “Maybe later,” Melissa said. “I need to talk about something.”

  All the while, Keli stood by the front window with her arms folded, watching the young woman like a hawk. “Hear her out, Tanaben,” she said softly. “I suspect that she has something very interesting to tell you.”

  Melissa drew herself up to assume the posture of a confident Justice Keeper, lifting her chin to stare over his head at the living room wall. “Isara,” she said. “You know that she got out last night.”

  “I'd heard.”

  “I want to go after her.”

  Covering his mouth with one hand, Ben shut his eyes and chuckled. “Okay, kid, I get that you're eager to prove yourself,” he said. “But there's no way in the Companion's Grand Vision that you're up for that challenge.”

  Melissa strode forward at a brisk pace. “If we get close enough, I can bring her down,” the girl said. “All we have to do is find her.”

  “She's being sincere,” Keli murmured.

  Melissa turned narrowed eyes upon the telepath, and for a moment, you might have thought the girl was a wolf who intended to pounce on some poor deer. “How would you know that?” she demanded. “I thought you couldn't read Keepers.”