by R S Penney
A hologram appeared beside him, depicting the image of a vaguely human-shaped creature made entirely of Leyrian characters. Ven had altered his appearance slightly. “Do you really believe this single individual to be a threat?”
Jack winced, pinching the bridge of his nose. “On his own? No,” he muttered into his own palm. “But Slade has been modifying symbionts and building super soldiers. I think it's pretty clear the Overseers are backing him.”
“Why would they?”
Grinning ferociously, Jack stared down into his own lap. “Hard to guess,” he said, eyebrows rising. “But I'm thinking they figured out that Slade's a shoe-in for prom king, and now they're hoping for a seat at the cool kids' table.”
In his mind's eye, he saw Jena stride through the door behind him, flanked by Anna and Harry. His boss stopped short, crossing her arms as she stared at the back of his chair. “I don't believe my eyes,” she said. “For once, Jack is early.”
“Do I get a cookie?”
Harry shuffled into the room with his hands in his pockets, casting a suspicious glare at the hologram. “What's with the light show?” he asked. “Does this presentation come with a visual aid?”
Gabi was the last one inside, flowing across the room in black pants and a maroon t-shirt. She paused next to Jack's chair, resting a hand on his shoulder and showing him a warm smile. Every now and then, he felt a burst of affection when he remembered how lucky he was to have a partner like her.
Jena rounded her desk with a heavy sigh, taking position just behind her chair. “The light show is actually a guest that I've invited to join us,” she said. “Everyone, meet Ven.”
Anna's mouth dropped open, and she blinked several times in confusion. “This is Ven?” she asked, dropping into the chair next to Jack. “As in the artificial intelligence that left Leyria over a hundred years ago?”
For a brief moment, the hologram flickered, and when it stabilized, it seemed to be facing Anna. “Pleased to meet you,” Ven said, bowing his ghostly head to her. His voice came through the speakers on the wall.
“Likewise?”
A wince passed over Jena's face, but she cleared her mind with a quick shake of her head. “No one else knows Ven is here,” she said, taking her seat. “And I'm of the opinion that we should keep it that way.”
Biting her lip, Anna lowered her eyes until she was staring into her lap. “So is he…I mean she…” A growl rumbled in her throat. “Ven, forgive me, but I do have to ask. Which pronoun would you prefer?”
A pang of guilt hit Jack right in the gut when he realized that he had failed to even consider that question. There was no reason to assume that Ven was male, and yet he had done so without question. Personal bias was like a virus that might hide in your body for months or even years before it made its presence felt.
Ven laughed, and the hologram gestured kindly toward Anna. “He or she is fine. I would prefer a singular, gender-neutral pronoun but since English lacks one that does not apply to objects, either will do.”
Jena leaned back in her chair with elbows on the armrests, steepling her fingers. “Ven is going to help us search for the Key,” she explained. “At this point, I'm fresh out of ideas; so a new perspective might just do the trick.”
“'Bout time we had some good luck,” Gabi said, striding around Jena's desk with her hands clasped behind her back. She paused in front of the window, staring out into the great black emptiness. “If Ven's reputation for data analysis is even half true, it will give us time to focus on containing Slade.”
Fury boiled in Jack's veins.
The former head of the Justice Keepers had made it his mission to keep them off balance by having his minions commit random acts of violence at every opportunity. A bombed tube station in London, a massacre at a festival in Mumbai, five dead protesters outside the Capital Building in D.C.: all committed by men and women who went out of their way to flaunt Keeper powers they had no right to. There was no denying it, now; Slade was no longer working in the shadows.
“To be honest,” Ven replied. “My talent for data analysis has often been somewhat understated. I'm given to understand that you have access to several Overseer devices. I would like to study them.”
“We've been trying for months,” Jena said.
The hologram bowed its head, its swirling text changing from blue to a soft, rosy pink. A blush perhaps? “You will forgive me if this is indelicate,” Ven began. “But I can analyze the devices far faster than any human. The process of transition from a flash of inspiration to a viable plan takes place within millionths of a second for me.”
Blushing hard, Jena closed her eyes and nodded to the hologram. “All right, then,” she said, sliding her chair back. “I'll see it that you get access to the organic SlipGate and the whatever-it-is that bonded to Kevin.”
“Excellent.”
Jena swiveled around so that Jack saw her in profile, then stood up and paced a line in front of her chair. “The rest of us have work to do,” she went on. “The Friendship Day celebration is tomorrow.”
Instantly, Jack felt his stomach tighten with anxiety. Another party? He couldn't say he was looking forward to that. Especially after the last few he'd been to. Sometimes, he still felt hot stinging pain when he remembered Leo's blade slicing into his chest. Phantom pain that only lasted half a second, but it was still aggravating.
Friendship Day.
Had it really been four years since the Leyrians revealed themselves?
Then today was the anniversary of the night when he and Anna had watched a pair of battle drones gun down Aamani Patel's best agents. The anniversary of his first desperate fight against Wesley Pennfield. A shiver went through him when he thought of it.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anna wince, and he knew that she was having the same thought. Jack tried to avoid thinking about that night unless it was absolutely necessary. Friendship Day was never a joyous occasion for him.
“…remarks prepared, kid?”
Jack squeezed his eyes shut, then forced them open, blinking a few times as he tried to get his bearings. “I'm sorry,” he said after a moment. “I was a bit distracted. Could you repeat that?”
Jena stood before the window with arms crossed, frowning at him. “I said that they will probably want you to say a few words,” she muttered. “You are the first Keeper from this world, after all. Do you have any remarks prepared?”
Slouching in his chair, Jack covered his face with both hands and moaned. “Of course! A priest, a prostitute and a Nassai all walk into a bar…”
“Jack…” Harry warned.
A wince contorted Jack's features, and he shook his head violently. “I'm sorry,” he said. “But you know I despise this. I don't see any reason why I should have to give the same speech every year.”
Jena was still by the window with her arms folded, scowling down at the floor. “Is it really so much to ask?” she said, shaking her head. “You're a symbol to the people of Earth, Jack.”
“I never wanted to be a symbol.”
Anna leaned back in her chair with hands folded behind her head, smiling up at the ceiling. “I never wanted to be this quirky and adorable,” she said, her eyebrows rising. “Sometimes, you just have to take the punches, sweetie.”
Jack felt his lips peel back from clenched teeth, a soft hiss escaping him. “You just don't understand,” he said, head hanging. “I don't have it in me to be a cheerleader for the Keepers after everything I've seen.”
“So don't.”
That came from Jena.
The woman stood there with her chin thrust out, her dark eyes reflecting the lights. “Tell the truth,” she went on. “Play the game, kid. Just like I taught you.”
Well, at least he had something to think about. In the back of his mind, he felt his Nassai reacting with approval and encouragement. Summer was proud of him, though he couldn't say why. “All right,” he said. “I'll do it.”
“Good,” Jena replied. “Now on
to the next issue…”
Ottawa's skyline rose up before him: tall, slender buildings with tiny lights in their windows, each rising up to stab a night sky that occasionally flashed with lightning. In the distance, he could almost make out the river. Almost.
Jack stood by the window with his arms crossed, peering out into the night. “You bought purple mouthwash,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Really? Out of all the options, you thought purple was best?”
Gabi sat on his living room couch with hands on her knees, staring into her own lap. “It looked interesting,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “And what's wrong with purple? Is it not a manly enough colour?”
Jack felt his mouth curl into a smile, then hung his head in chagrin. “No, it's 'cause purple signifies that artificial grape flavour.” He shivered at the thought of it. “Trust me, if you spend enough time on this planet, you will eventually develop a discerning palette when it comes to bottled sugary poison.”
For the last few months, this had been a regular facet of their relationship: Gabrina would come and spend a few nights with him. At first, she had insisted on bringing half her belongings down from station twelve – anything she might need in a pinch. Jack had very quickly discovered that his partner was a planner.
Now, she was more willing to use the monthly stipend LIS gave her to buy supplies when she needed them. That was something of a foreign concept to her. On Leyria, mail bots delivered everything from groceries to pharmaceuticals. Not to mention the mail. The idea of spending one's afternoon simply going out to purchase daily household items seemed quaint to Gabi.
Jack turned away from the window.
His girlfriend was still sitting prim and proper, smiling down at herself. “So, do you know what you want to say tomorrow?” she asked with more enthusiasm than he would have liked. This was a topic he would rather avoid.
Closing his eyes, Jack tilted his head back. He took a deep, soothing breath through his nose. “Not a clue,” he answered. “I've been mulling it over all day and nada. Figure I'll just wing it.”
“Wing it?”
Jack grinned, shaking his head. “That's what I do,” he said, making his way across the room. “I've never been very good at planning my remarks in advance. So, I'll just say whatever pops into my brain while I'm up there.”
He dropped into the easy chair with a soft sigh, waiting for the inevitable lecture. People always assumed that the only way to do something right was to plan it out ahead of time. Sometimes that worked, and sometimes it didn't. In high school, he used to drive his teachers crazy by refusing to write an outline whenever they assigned a paper on this or that topic. It never seemed to occur to them that Jack was the sort of kid who had to discover his thesis as he wrote.
A persuasive essay was, after all, an attempt to articulate some deeper truth about life or the human condition. How could he know his position on anything until he had fully explored the subject? And part of that exploration involved typing out arguments that would actually convince him he was onto something. He didn't know what his thesis would be until he had convinced himself of its merit. Going the other way – choosing a thesis and then trying to find facts to support it – just seemed dishonest.
When he looked up, Gabi was watching him with her mouth agape. “You're joking, right?” she said. “You're actually going to stand in front of several hundred people and make something up on the spot.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“The power of improvisation.”
Gabi stood up, doubling over with a hand pressed to her stomach. “Oh, Jack,” she said through a fit of laughter. “You can't just speak off the cuff. Come on. I will help you prep something.”
Jack felt his face crumple. “You still don't believe me,” he said, shaking his head. “Trust me, Gabs, I'm far more persuasive unscripted. I think it's because people realize I really believe what I'm saying.”
Gabi sighed.
Now would be a good time for one of his trademark random topic changes. “You know, my mom's having a little dinner party this weekend,” he began. “She made it a point to tell me she's learning to cook several Leyrian dishes. I think that's her way of saying she'd like you to come.”
A scowl passed over Gabi's face, but she smothered it quickly, choosing instead to lift her chin and meet his gaze. It occurred to him that this really wasn't the best possible change of subject. Gabi got squeamish every time he suggested something that might be interpreted as an attempt to advance their relationship. He still hadn't been able to coax her into meeting his parents. “I'll have to see if I'm free,” she murmured.
Grinning from ear to ear, Jack closed his eyes and bowed his head to her. “Well, I'd suggest working some of your scheduling magic,” he said. “You see, after my mom starts hinting, she starts nagging, and that is just beaucoup de badness.”
“I'll see what I can do.”
“Excellent,” he replied. “Now, would you like cuddles before you go to sleep?”
The double doors to the Science Lab split apart, revealing a large room with a table along the back wall, a table that supported a metal frame where a thin piece of skin was suspended from hooks. Every time Jena saw that thing, it sent a shiver running down her spine. So far as she could tell, she was alone.
Jena strode into the room, ignoring the unease she felt when she realized she was alone with two pieces of Overseer technology. The organic SlipGate was sealed off in the corner to her right. A puddle of flesh about the size of her desk, it had remained inert for almost three months. Professor Nareo thought it would still react for Jack or Anna, but she had been unwilling to test that theory.
Ven's hologram appeared in the middle of the room – a person composed entirely of swirling white text – and for the moment, it stood there with hands clasped behind itself, watching her.
Jena closed her eyes, then bowed her head to the apparition. She took a deep breath. “You said you have something to show me?” she began. “I take it you've had some luck analyzing the hand-held device?”
Ven cocked its head to one side, and she could almost swear that it was blinking at her. “Yes, actually, I have,” it said, gesturing to the table. “I have been able to operate the lab's equipment remotely. Professor Nareo was trying to simulate human neuroelectric activity to see how the device would respond.”
“And?”
“I have run over a thousand simulations in the last six hours, analyzing how the device responds.” The hologram actually managed to look thoughtful. Jena had to give Ven some credit. “The device has memory cells that I have been able to access.”
Crossing her arms, Jena hunched up her shoulder and tried her best not to shiver. “We knew that much,” she muttered. “Raynar has been able to access them telepathically, but most of what he sees is a jumbled mess.”
“I was able to discern a pattern.”
The hologram vanished to be replaced with two lists of numbers that hovered side by side in the air in bright white text. Geographic coordinates? There were at least a dozen of them. “What are they?” she asked.
“Locations the Overseers used as bases of operations during their tenure on Earth. It took some time for me to decipher their coordinate system and translate it into the standard latitude, longitude model, but I'm quite certain that my work is accurate. If this Key you search for is still on Earth, it is likely in one of these locations.”
Jena squinted at the floating numbers, then shook her head in dismay. “It doesn't track,” she said, turning away from the hologram. “Slade has access to Overseer tech; so if the Key was in one of those locations, he would have found it by now.”
“Can you think of a better plan?”
Jena stopped short with her hands in her pockets, her head hanging as if someone had slung a fifty-pound stone around her neck. “No,” she admitted. “But that does not mean I'm willing to waste resources on a wild goose chase.”
It irked her that she cou
ldn't sense Ven with her symbiont. The AI wasn't actually here, in this room with her, but she still felt as if she should be able to sense movement every time the hologram gestured.
Jena squeezed her eyes shut, then buried her nose in the palm of her hand. “Slade's been doing this a long time,” she said. “We need to out-think him if we're going to have any hope of finding this thing before he does.”
When she turned around, the hologram was still floating there in the middle of the room, although now its text was a deep sky blue. “If I may, I believe you're letting your own fears cloud your judgment.”
“How's that?”
Ven bowed its head, and the speakers emitted something that might have passed for an exasperated sigh. Once again, she was impressed by how easily it was able to emulate human emotion. “The Overseers may be using Slade as their instrument, but we have no way of knowing precisely how much help they are willing to give him. There's no reason to assume he has access to this information, and in light of the fact that this is our only lead, it's worth investigating.”
“I take your point.”
“And what's more, we may have an advantage that Slade lacks.” Ven turned its holographic head to stare at the slab of skin that hung suspended from a metal bar over the table. “With the proper combination of electrical signals, I have been able to access some of the device's rudimentary functions – force-field projection, shape change. Now watch what happens when I order it to interface with nearby devices.”
There was no reaction from the smaller device on the table, but Jena gasped when the puddle of flesh in the corner suddenly contorted to form a triangle that rose up toward the ceiling. A triangle of veiny skin that pulsed and hummed. Seconds later, it collapsed into its original shape.
Gaping at the hologram, Jena blinked several times. “You can control them?” she asked in a breathy whisper.