by R S Penney
Ven shook its head and floated to her. “Not with any degree of precision,” it said. “But every time I access that command, the SlipGate activates for a few moments before returning to its dormant state.”
“Meaning…”
“Meaning if this process works for every piece of Overseer technology, we now have a method for locating them.”
Jena crossed her arms and huddled up on herself, shrinking into her shoulders like a turtle hiding in its shell. “I better call a meeting for tomorrow,” she whispered. “It seems we're about to go on a very big scavenger hunt.”
Chapter 3
The walled garden on the roof of a London skyscraper was lush and green under the light of the afternoon sun. Narrow stone walkways cut through a field of grass and caressed the edges of flowerbeds where tulips grew in shades of pink and yellow. Off in the distance, a gazebo sheltered several men and women who stood with their drinks in hand, pleasantly chatting with one another.
It was a surprisingly informal affair despite the presence of over a dozen United Nations ambassadors and twice as many Keepers – the men wore dress pants and shirts with open collars, the women slacks and blouses or perhaps the odd dress – but Leyrians had a different sense of fashion. Harry still felt a little odd about that. Nearly forty years of grooming from his parents, his peers and finally his superior officers had taught him that there were times when you wanted to make a good impression.
“Have you been off-world?”
The question came from an old woman in a blue suit who stood beside him with her back to the wall that bordered the rooftop. Her face was lined with wrinkles, her gray hair cut short in a bob, and she spoke with a noticeable French accent.
Harry stood with his arms folded, dressed in a gray suit and a light blue shirt that he wore without a tie. “I have not,” he said, staring down at the floor. “Being a father of two doesn't give one many opportunities for adventure.”
The old woman smiled a dreamy smile, the kind you might have expected to see on a kid who was boarding an airplane for the first time. “I had the chance to visit Leyria six months ago,” she said. “You really should visit.”
Closing his eyes, Harry nodded to himself. “I'm sure I will one day,” he murmured, stepping away from the wall. “But for now, I have a job that keeps me very busy. Being the liaison to the Keepers is…taxing.”
“Ah…Yes, I would imagine.” The woman lifted a cigarette between two fingers, the tip flaring with an orange glow when she took a puff. “When I entered politics all those years ago, it never occurred to me that I would be ambassador to another world.”
“I don't think any of us anticipated this.”
He took a few moments to watch the other guests socialize. Spend enough years as a beat cop, and people watching eventually became second nature to you. The Keepers looked ridiculous in the company of some forty or fifty ambassadors and various other dignitaries. To the untrained eye, it looked like a bunch of twenty-somethings trying to ingratiate themselves with people who were far older and more experienced.
Of course, that was just a trick of the Nassai bond. From what Harry was told, if he were to bond a symbiont today – inadvisable at his age, but it was possible – within just a few weeks, he would once again wear the face of a twenty-two-year-old.
It dawned on him that his daughter would soon be one of these people, and – worse yet – that there might come a day when he would have to say good-bye to her. Jack had been trained on Earth, and it was likely that Melissa would be as well, but Keepers were often reassigned to different planets.
“Excuse me,” Harry murmured.
He made his way to a series of round tables near the building's front wall. A dozen people stood in a cluster, talking amicably with one another. Most appeared to be quite young, though he recognized Isaela Taro, a Keeper with long brown hair and a smile that lit up a room. She looked like a college student, but really, she was pushing forty-five.
Jack sat alone at a table in gray pants and a black short-sleeved shirt that he wore untucked. Of course, the boy wore his collar open; you'd have better luck teaching a fish to breathe on dry land than you would getting Jack to wear a necktie. “Harry!” he said. “How do you like the party?”
Harry winced, trembling on the spot. “I'm hot,” he said, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “My feet hurt, and my stomach thinks that I should be sitting down to breakfast about now.”
The boy leaned back in his chair with his arms folded, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the sun. “Right there with you,” he said. “After barely four hours of sleep, I'm primarily surviving on Tylenol and anger.”
“Your speech ready?”
“I'm ready to speak.”
Harry grinned, then looked down at the floor. “Well, there's a dodgy answer,” he said, shaking his head. “Let me guess. You didn't want to prep anything; so you figured you'd just wing it when you got here.”
“Something like that.”
It was difficult to suppress the urge to sigh. Jack had a very unique way of doing things; in a pinch, he could improvise his way out of almost any situation, but ask him to make a plan and stick to it, and you may as well have asked the sky to turn green. How anyone could live like that was mind-boggling. Harry thrived on organization. “Please tell me you have some idea of what you want to say.”
“Some.”
Crossing his arms with a heavy sigh, Harry frowned down at himself. “Well…We have that much,” he said, approaching the table. “You realize that your superiors are all counting on you, right?”
Jack lifted his chin to stare down his nose at Harry, squinting as if he didn't believe his eyes. “I'm aware,” he said with a nod. “But you know, I never set out to be the hero of the people.”
“That's why you got stuck with the job.”
Harry dropped into the chair across from Jack, leaning over the table with his arms crossed. “This is serious,” he went on. “You are the first person from Earth to become a Keeper. You shouldn't treat it as a joke.”
Jack was grinning into his lap, chuckling softly to himself and trembling with every breath. “That's exactly what it is,” he murmured. “I thought that Keepers were real-world Jedi Knights or something.”
“And now?”
The boy looked up, and suddenly his blue eyes were as hard as steel. “Slade,” he growled. “Breslan, that woman on Leyria: we let a bunch of snakes into our midst, and nobody seemed to notice because they were too busy putting blind faith in the idea that Keepers can do no wrong.”
A surge of irritation made Harry want to snap at the kid, but he calmed himself with a little effort. This again…For Jack Hunter, challenging the conventional wisdom – or whatever the kid wanted to call it – wasn't just a way of life, it was a god damn crusade. There were bad apples in every organization, but Jack seemed to take this personally. As if the Keepers had let him down. “Does that mean that you oppose our partnership with Leyria?” he asked. “Do you think Earth would be better off alone?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why do you see this as a joke?”
The kid had no answer for that; instead, he just stood up with a sigh and wandered off to muse on the question. Harry clicked his tongue in frustration. In a way, he was a father of three. When he had first met Jack, the boy was just a teenager. Someone had to teach him a thing or two about how to do law-enforcement properly, and he didn't think the Leyrians were prepared for the unique challenges of a planet like this. So, Harry had taken Jack under his wing.
That had been four years ago, and now the boy was quite sure of himself. Maybe a little too sure of himself. Still, Jack had a bright future ahead of him, and so did Melissa. A short future, but one filled with meaning. Could Harry say the same?
No, he had to admit that he couldn't.
He was middle-aged now, and his days of fighting the good fight were long over. That was probably for the best, but he couldn't help
but feel a bit of resentment. Harry had a long career filled with paperwork, meetings and politics. Dear god in heaven! He suddenly realized that he needed a very stiff drink.
Anna stood before a concrete wall that came up to her chin – she hated being short sometimes – watching as sunlight glinted off the windows of tall skyscrapers that made up London's skyline. It was a beautiful city. She had always meant to come here, but one thing or another always got in the way. Funny how, even with SlipGates, people seldom made time to do the things they really wanted to do.
Dressed in beige pants and a white short-sleeved blouse, Anna stood on her toes to peer over the wall. Maybe she could get in a little sightseeing before heading back home. That would be fun.
The silhouette of a short man came up behind her, and she couldn't resist the urge to smile. She would know that figure anywhere.
When her father stepped into view, he wore a pair of dark pants and a navy-blue shirt with a v-collar in Leyrian fashion. Beran was still handsome for a man of forty-five, his red goatee sporting a few silver flecks, his hair parted in the middle. “One thing about these glorious vistas: they offer the perfect excuse to avoid socializing.”
Anna smiled, then bowed her head in chagrin. “You're right about that,” she said, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry. I'm still tired, and it's hard to be social when you've spent the morning reading the vilest sort of threats imaginable.”
“Threats?”
Anna spun around to lean against the wall with her arms crossed, doubling over and letting out a sigh. “Nasty e-mails and phone calls,” she muttered. “Ever since I took down those two cops in Tennessee…”
Her father stared off into the distance with lips pressed into a thin line, blinking as he considered her words. “You always were the sort of girl who spoke her mind,” he said. “Even when it got you into trouble.”
“You often lectured me on that.”
“Yes, but it's also why I love you so much.”
Closing her eyes, Anna let her head hang. The heat in her face was hard to ignore. “Well, that's good to know,” she said, nodding once. “Sometimes I think you and Mom were happier with Alia.”
Her father grinned, trembling as he chuckled softly. “I love both of my daughters equally,” he began. “And I am incredibly proud of everything that Alia has accomplished, but…she never had your fire.”
“Don't let her hear you say that.”
“I won't.”
Tilting her head back, Anna squinted up at the clear blue sky. “I don't know,” she mumbled in a voice so soft it was barely audible. “Maybe I'm just not the kind of Keeper this planet needs.”
“Why do you say that?”
Anna winced, then slapped a palm over her face. “I couldn't have imagined it,” she said, massaging her eyelids with the tips of her fingers. “The raw hatred these people can conjure at a moment's notice.”
Beran stood facing the wall with his arms crossed, his head bowed as he studied the grass. “And you feel responsible for it?” he murmured. “You feel as if you've…How does that delightful Earth phrase go? Set off a powder keg?”
“Sometimes…”
It wasn't her fault; she knew that. There was no doubt in her mind that saving Kevin Harmon – trying to save him, anyway; Companion be praised for Harry Carlson's timely intervention – had been the right thing to do. But she couldn't help but feel that a skilled Justice Keeper would have been able to do it without causing a public outcry. That was rubbish, and she knew it, but her guilty conscience didn't always take advice from her rational mind. Also, I just thought the word “rubbish!” Less than four hours in London, and I'm already picking up British slang!
“Sometimes,” she went on, “I just think I don't have the mindset to deal with this planet's unique problems.”
“So you want to transfer?”
“I didn't say that!” Anna snapped before her father could get another word in. The last thing she needed was news of this getting back to her mother. Sierin would take it as an opportunity to rant about the uncivilized, primitive Earthers.
Her father turned around to stand beside her with his hands clasped behind himself, frowning as he watched the other guests mingle. “Then what do you want?” he asked in that slightly condescending voice of his.
Baring her teeth with a hiss, Anna lowered her eyes. “I don't know,” she whispered, shaking her head. “A little sanity for a change? Right now, I'd be willing to settle for no more death threats.”
Beran gave her shoulder a squeeze, then walked off to join several other people in a quiet conversation, leaving her alone to think. Anna sighed softly. She really should get back out there – normally, she loved parties – but there was something so draining about hearing threats on your life multiple times a day, everyday for months. It left you feeling hollow inside.
All her life, she'd been the sort of woman who felt as though she was torn between two competing impulses: the urge to fly off and seek adventure and a powerful sense of loyalty to the people she cared about. Now that she had him, she couldn't imagine leaving Bradley – which meant, for all intents and purposes, that Earth would be her home for the foreseeable future – but could she really stay here? When it was doing this to her?
She wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that question.
Gabrina Valtez flowed through the crowd of people with a smooth, easy grace. A winding stone path slithered through the grass with dignitaries standing in small groups on either side. She spotted a man with silver hair and a friendly smile gesticulating wildly with a glass of whiskey, a middle-aged woman in a blue dress who stood with her arms folded, nodding along with every point.
One of the Keepers – a tall young man with olive skin who looked rather dapper in his green shirt – came striding up the path in the opposite direction, nodding to her as he passed. She offered a warm smile in response. There was an art to socializing at a formal affair. Or an informal one, for that matter. Such events were more than just fun, they were also a wonderful way to gather information, and Gabi had to admit that she was a very nosy person.
She spotted Toral Enacrin, a contact from the Diplomatic Corps that she had met some years ago. Tall and broad-shouldered with sun-darkened skin, he wore a white shirt and kept his curly brown hair cut short.
He turned on his heel, then flashed a smile that could have held back winter's chill when he saw her. “Gabrina,” he said, approaching. “How long has it been? Two years at least. Maybe three?”
Gabi stood on the path in a white sundress with thin shoulder straps, her hair tied up in a braid. “Toral,” she said, nodding to him. “It seems like you've been busy. I didn't realize you'd been posted to Earth.”
“Nor I you.”
“It's good to see you.”
The man stood with a drink in hand, staring up at the clear blue sky. “And you as well,” he murmured. “Though if you're here, it likely means that the last few months of your life have been…colourful, to say the least.”
Gabi felt her lips curl, then bowed her head to him. “I really can't argue with that,” she said, her eyebrows rising. “When I accepted this assignment, I was expecting certain difficulties, but it seems as though this planet is constantly on the brink of total anarchy.”
“Indeed.”
With a flourish of his hand, Toral beckoned her up the path, then fell in beside her when she resumed her leisurely stroll. “Every time we succeed in building a partnership, several of the local nations begin squabbling.”
“Is there any truth to the rumors?”
“What rumors?”
Shutting her eyes tight, Gabi took a deep breath through her nose. “The rumors that several of Earth's nations have begun demanding access to advanced weapons technology under the mistaken belief that they won't need our protection if we simply give them the means to protect themselves.”
In truth, she knew perfectly well that those rumors were legitimate – LIS wouldn't be a cre
dible intelligence agency if it couldn't keep tabs on the political climate of one of Leyria's closest allies – but it was always a good idea to see if someone would lie to you. It gave you a sense of where you stood.
Toral flashed a bright, beautiful smile, staring off at some point in the distance. “I can neither confirm nor deny,” he answered. “But you know that we're working hard to cement our good relations with Earth.”
“I do.”
The sound of applause drew her attention, and she turned to find a man standing at the lectern positioned at the building's front wall. He was tall, slim and handsome with a neatly trimmed beard on his dark-skinned face. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I greet you on this, the fourth anniversary of Friendship Day.”
More applause.
Gabi stood with her hands clasped in front of herself, her head bowed respectfully. “I guess it's time for the formalities,” she murmured to Toral. “It just wouldn't be a party without a good speech.”
Her companion stood with his arms crossed, frowning at the podium. “One thing about diplomats,” he said, his eyebrows rising. “We do develop something of a penchant for pomp and circumstance.”
The man at the lectern stood tall and proud, running his gaze over everyone present. “My name is Rayse Calvoran,” he went on. “I've served in the Leyrian Diplomatic Corps for nearly two decades, and I can honestly tell you that I have never been as proud as I was on the day we helped Earth take its first steps into the galactic community.
“Much has changed since then. We've had some stumbles, some missteps. But our commitment to forging a lasting partnership that will strengthen both of our peoples has never been stronger. To that end, I would like to welcome Larani Tal, the new head of the Justice Keepers who is joining us today via SlipStream transmission.”
“This should be good,” Gabi muttered.
Harry watched the hologram ripple into existence right in front of the podium, watched as small projectors in the concrete path that cut through the grass created the image of a tall woman in a finely-tailed suit of Leyrian fashion.