by Sky Corbelli
Chapter 18
JaM Productions
The dinner was... probably not what Kirsten had planned. Mat spent the whole night with a lecherous grin on his face, exclaiming loudly about how good everything was and “Oh, Kirstin, you should try a bite of this! Say ahhh...” Kirsten looked mortified. Gal grumbled about being upstaged.
Ezra fought not to laugh as he bid his friends a good night, Mat calling over his shoulder that he'd be back tomorrow for another round at the gym and, if anyone else wanted to go, he could bring along an extra set of workout equipment. Kirsten's voice cracked as she yelled “Good night, Mister Matanane!” from the top of the stairs. Mat shrugged as he turned away from the door, and Gal gave Ezra a thorough kiss goodnight, whispering in his ear, “I was looking forward to having you for dessert tonight. Maybe next time.” Her smile promised things that made Ezra flush from head to toe.
Ezra wandered back to his room in a happy daze, ready to sleep like the dead, when he noticed a letter and a small, flat package sitting neatly in the center of his bed. Curious, he picked it up and saw the words Ezra – For a Job Well Done scrawled on the front, signed with the letter B. Hands trembling, he opened it and found a single translucent, flexible sheet inside: a data sheet, a sort of lightweight, read-only file storage device, usually encrypted for a specific person with a thumb-print.
He pressed his thumb to the access circle in the lower right-hand corner and a list sprung to life on the screen. Looking closely, Ezra saw that each entry was nothing but a date and time. He accessed the first entry, dated nearly five hundred years ago, and the screen flashed briefly. Ah, a retinal scan for each entry, Ezra thought wryly. Someone does not want this information leaking out.
A brief description of a Guild team's mission followed. A few seconds later, the screen flashed lightly again. Some kind of refresh issue? Ezra wondered, lifting and turning the sheet to look at the other side. Another light flash, and the sheet turned off. Oh, periodic retinal scans. Someone really does not want this information leaking out.
Ezra re-accessed the document and poured over its contents; a concise summary of a mission to some large burned out area, some fact-finding from the local people... Ezra's eyebrows lifted. This was the first mission, when the fire-kissed had burned out nearly a quarter of a continent in a war. There were pictures of endless, flat stretches of blackened earth. Ezra shuddered as he read the captions associated with each. Caracas. Mexico City. New Houston. Everything had been burned to ash.
Ezra left the chilling mission report and scrolled to the end of list, to an entry dated just the day before. He smiled as he read it. Sarah really had made him out to be a hero.
He glanced around and frowned; no secure hiding places seemed readily available. Under the pillow for tonight, he thought, down to the lab in the morning. Satisfied with his decision and exhausted from a long, full day, Ezra fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
==
Ezra woke up a few minutes before his alarm the next morning and groaned as various parts of his body competed for the honor of having the very best and most painful cramp. He stretched, accidentally nudging the data sheet out from its hiding place. That's right! he thought excitedly. Grabbing the sheet, he devoured the next mission: something about a wind-scarred looting near the devastation of the fire-kissed war. Arms, legs, and back still hideously sore from his training the day before, he smuggled the mission reports down to his lab and locked them away with his other research material. Real work during the day, he thought while trying to stretch his shoulders, mission research at night.
Nodding to himself, Ezra sat down at his console and stared at the two theorems he had been bashing his head against. He sighed and got back to work.
Sometime around noon, Ezra decided to embark on a kitchen raid. Leftovers from the night before served as a hearty meal, and he was just about to head back to the lab without anyone the wiser when he heard the house politely announce someone at the front door. Ezra looked around, shrugged, and headed for the door to see who it was. He came out of the kitchen in time to see Kirsten walking briskly to answer, muttering to herself, “Probably that insufferable man again... but this time I'll tell him off, just wait and see.”
Ezra raced forward, hoping to spare his friend whatever tongue lashing Kirsten had in mind, and was surprised to hear not Mat at the door, but Gal's teammate, Sebastian. “Good afternoon, Miss O'Donnell. My name is Sebastian Walker with the Jadson and Monroe Products company and this is Miss Sarah Hughes. If we could just have a moment of your time, we've come to finalize the contracts that we drew up with Mr. Hawkins two nights ago.”
“The Hughes family is very much looking forward to working with Mr. Hawkins and putting a rest to the rumors about our families' supposed rivalry.” Ezra peeked over Kirsten's shoulder and saw Sarah, wearing a business suit, beaming at the woman in front of her. Sebastian had concealed the tattoo on his face, donned a fashionable set of spectacles, and was offering Kirsten what looked like a small card.
“JaM Products? I don't believe I've heard of you,” Kirsten said skeptically, reading the card.
Sebastian was smooth with his reply. “We're a high end subcontractor for the Department of Ordinances and Lawful Temerity, focusing on third party technology to meet transportation needs.”
“Ah, I see, and how is it that you know Mr. Hawkins?” Ezra tried to signal to them from behind Kirsten, waving his hand frantically and hoping to get some idea of what was going on. They both ignored him.
“We had the pleasure of making Mr. Hawkins' acquaintance by way of a mutual friend, a Miss Galois Doe, over dinner the night before last. Our organization was very impressed with the technology that Mr. Hawkins demonstrated on Founder's Day and have been brainstorming some practical applications of his work for the good of society ever since.”
“Ezra's work.” Miss O'Donnell stated flatly. “On Founder's Day.”
Ezra stopped jumping up and down and bristled slightly. So he had gotten in a little trouble, but was it really that surprising that someone would be impressed with his remote wormhole generator? It was, in his unbiased opinion, pretty much the future of all wormhole travel, possibly all travel, period.
“Of course!” chimed in Sarah. “He did things with wormholes that we thought were decades away!”
“Excuse me, Miss Hughes.” Kirsten managed to speak down to the taller woman, somehow maintaining the necessary amount of civility while simultaneously making it clear that she would gladly throw her off a building. “You are, if I recall, a non-inheriting older sibling in your family. That being the case, I just can't seem to place why you're here.”
Ezra saw Sarah swallow down a flash of anger, her face a mask of calm. “I serve as my family's liaison in many legal matters, such as prospective contracts. The Hughes family has volunteered to work with Mr. Hawkins, providing all of the necessary raw materials for his project as a show of support. We can't let things like family history get in the way progress, after all.”
“Ah, yes, I see.” Kirsten looked down to check her data display. “I'm afraid that Mr. Hawkins is booked for the rest of the week. I can see about arranging to squeeze you in with the family's legal consultants some time after...”
Sarah glanced over Kirsten's shoulder, then waved to Ezra. “Ezra! Remember me? Sarah, from the club the other night with Gal?”
Kirsten slowly turned and fixed her emerald eyes on Ezra. He stood there, too shocked to think, half-eaten plate of food still in his hands.
“Ah, Mr. Hawkins, good. If I could just have you sign this document here...” Sebastian began to push past Kirsten.
“Don't sign anything, Ezra!” Kirsten snarled whipping her head around moving to physically block Sebastian.
“But,” Sebastian put on a confused tone, “we're already just about set to move into production on our new facility. There's a sizable amount of money in it for the Hawkins estate, not to mention the good publicity of helping with a Department of Ordinan
ces contract, of course...”
Kirsten glanced down at the contract that Sebastian had pulled up, then did a double take and quickly began scanning the rest of the document. Sebastian smiled wryly. “Mr. Hawkins drove a hard bargain, said that we would need to cover the damages that the Conservatorium suffered during testing, as well as any costs accrued by various port stations around the city that had may have malfunctioned due to some unforeseen side effects, in addition to a hefty fee for the use of his new tech. It took some doing to get a blanket pardon statement from the Chancellor as well, but we just had to have it. We even toasted it afterward.”
“Ezra,” Kirsten said in a quiet voice, looking up slowly, cautiously from the document. “Is this what you were doing two nights ago?”
Ezra's brain leapt into a flurry of activity. Kirsten could smell a lie about a mile away. He needed to spin the truth here, set it up just right. “I went with Gal,” he began tentatively, “to meet up with them. After some...” Hunting. Planning. Fighting. Um, um... “...negotiations with a...” Criminal! Kidnapper! Super powered lunatic! “...different client, who had some rather...” Violent! No, uh, sadistic! “...interesting opinions of what would be acceptable, we drafted up a really...” Explosive, or maybe, hot. Scorching! Interesting! No, already used that. “...good plan of action. You could call it a...” Ninja strike! Flying ninja strike! Freaking awesome flying ninja flame strike! “...slash and burn, operation. Then, afterward, we met up for a...” Night of drunken revelry! No, wait, don't say that. “...celebratory drink.”
“Hey Ezra,” Mat's voice sounded from down the walkway. “I found Doe and Liza already on their way over here and – Why hello Kirsten! You're looking especially lovely today! I can just send these kids on ahead if you'd like to–”
Kirsten cast a panicked look over her shoulder. She gave Ezra a brittle smile. “Ezra, I believe you have a prior engagement today and I won't keep you up from that.” Then, quickly turning to Sarah and Sebastian she continued, “We can look this over back in the study. If you'll just follow me please?” Sebastian gave Ezra a lopsided grin and Sarah rolled her eyes behind Kirsten's rapidly fleeing back as they walked past.
“Aw, she was just here a second ago!” Mat grumbled as he reached the door.
“Hi Ezzy! Oh, and you better watch out Mat, I hear Seb works fast.” Gal slipped gallons on implication into the last two words.
“Oh, you mean that gentleman at the door? Yes, he did seem like quite an efficient young man,” Liza commented, nodding her head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Gal snickered.
Mat gave the house's interior a concerned look. “Maybe she didn't hear me. I could just go back and check on them, maybe catch up with guys later...” He absently started pushing the gym bag toward Ezra, forcing him to juggle his half-eaten lunch.
Ezra chuckled. “Well, I have it on good authority that she really likes a man who sticks to his commitments.”
Mat stopped and perked up at this. “Really? Well then, time's wasting. Guess I'll just have to make sure you're too sore to stand tomorrow, then maybe Miss O'Donnell and I can spend a little quality time together.” He gave Ezra a playful clap on the back that nearly sent him sprawling. The four headed off joking and laughing.
And so went the next few weeks. Gal occasionally vanished on missions, but none came through for Ezra's team. Things fell into a rhythm for Ezra. Mornings were spent delving into wormhole theory or upgrading the Guild's systems, under the cover provided by his contract with JaM Products. Afternoon saw him at the gym learning how to manage himself in a fight or, when Liza couldn't make it, training at the Guild gym with firearms or other modern weapons. Evenings found Ezra with the mission reports, building up his knowledge and looking for patterns in the data.
Years and years worth of missions were represented, startlingly more after the advent of wormhole travel. Through the accumulated knowledge in his data sheet, Ezra was able to glean information about the elementalists in the outside world.
Wind-scarred: masters of the air. Many were capable of slowing or even freezing air molecules in place, creating walls of force or invisible restraints. Some could call down tornadoes, or fly freely on the wind. Distinguishable by the patterns of fine scars that covered their bodies, their ranks seemed to be almost universally composed of criminals. Con men and thieves, mercenaries and even pirates; nearly all of them had a history of violence and a complete disregard for people and property. According to the data other teams had collected, many were well known miscreants even before their powers manifested. The fact that they exploded on death, an event dubbed the 'surge', was well documented. The vast majority of missions dealt with a wind-scarred in some capacity, be it stopping a rampage or rescuing stolen goods or people.
Thunder-struck: zealots who brought forth lightning from the skies and their fingertips. They appeared to have a halo of ambient electricity surrounding their heads. Amongst themselves and anywhere within earshot, they were the Children of Lightning, spiritual leaders in what passed for organized religion in the outside world. Ezra was unable to find a single reference to any thunder-struck that was not a part of this religious organization. Looking through the mission reports, however, he concluded that that might be due to their aggressive recruitment techniques. Many areas had fallen off the radar entirely as they were swallowed up in the mass conversions initiated by the thunder-struck; the events for which the Guild was called in showed them for what they were: fanatic lunatics. Report after report detailed thunder-struck literally smiting those who refused to convert, declaring it the will of the heavens. There was a reason that the words 'thunder' and 'struck' had become profanity in the world outside: having one of these elementalists visit rarely went well for anyone. Their own 'death spark', a sudden release of unimaginable amounts of electricity, was well documented and cautioned against. Just over a third of the mission reports detailed overzealous thunder-struck campaigns.
Fire-kissed: those who could call forth fire to do their bidding. They had amazingly high body temperatures and actually exhaled small flames or smoke, particularly noticeable when they became excited or agitated. Many were politicians or local community leaders. In fact, they all seemed to be part of some kind of centralized governmental body and all were notable for their passionate belief in whatever it was they were involved with. Few fire-kissed were actually killed; most were just frightened or humiliated in some way, but they too released a tremendous amount of energy when they died in a flare of sorts. Guild teams really only encountered the corrupt in their ranks, the ones who had turned their power against the people they were supposed to protect. Fire-kissed problems were typically few and far between.
Water-seers: the mysterious men and women who had absolute mastery over water. They could be recognized by their eyes, which were solid blue, without pupils or whites. Ezra had a hard time placing just who they were, as only a handful of missions actually dealt with them. He couldn't find anything specific about any organization they belonged to, but all of them appeared to be adept at two things: Healing and killing. In fact, nearly every mission dealing with a water-seer was aborted upon investigation when agents discovered that the seer in question had been paid for services rendered, though the payment always seemed a little steep. A man selling himself into slavery to repay a water-seer assassin. A woman forced to give up everything she owned to have her son cured of an unknown affliction. Ezra shook his head at the few scattered descriptions. Only one mission resulted in a presumed fatality for the water-seer involved, and the agents were unable to verify the kill.
Earth-crowned: the enigmatic persons for whom the earth moved. It appeared as though they each had a jagged stone embedded in their foreheads, sometimes with smaller stones and gems floating in a loose crown behind it. There was no uniformity to the stones, they just appeared... random. Ezra deduced that they were the supreme judicial system in the outside world. None of them stayed still for long. Traveling from town to town, they med
iated disputes and dispensed what they considered justice. Most were actually... reasonable. In fact, Ezra was unable to find a single case in which the Guild agents initiated an offensive action against an earth-crowned. The only time one was actually brought to serious combat the team was demolished, with the only a single member barely making it back to file the report.
Only a small number of the reports looked into the history of the elementalists they were sent to deal with. However, from those, Ezra learned something important. Between the eleven year old boy who who manifested as a wind-scarred and liked to sink boats coming in to harbor, and an eighty three year old woman who manifested as a fire-kissed and siphoned funds from tax revenue to pay for her grandson's wedding, there was no set age at which powers developed. There did not seem to be any obvious external stimuli for the manifestations either; it could be that most of them just woke up with magical powers one day. Ezra did notice one thing though: the people who would know the most about how these powers came to be, the elementalists themselves, were never spoken to. They were the ones Ezra needed to question.
During one of his late night study sessions, while intently focused on a particularly detailed report, Ezra was suddenly shocked out of his concentration by a light tap on his back.
“Ezra?” Kirsten's voice was quiet, tentative. Ezra whirled around, shoving the data sheet out of sight, trying to get his heart rate under control. How long had she been standing there? Had she been reading over his shoulder? He could say it was a... science fiction novel! A novel about... about... He paused. Kirsten was biting her lower lip. In fact, she looked... pained, or maybe unsure of herself.
“Ezra, I've been doing some research and...” Kirsten took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “And there's something I think you should know.” Ezra glanced at the data view she had displayed. There was a Guild of Sundry logo on the screen amongst her notes. He felt the blood drain out of his face as his eyes crept back up to hers in horror.
“Ezra, I don't know how to tell you this, but I think... I think that you might be involved in a conspiracy.” Kirsten's intensely intelligent green eyes locked onto his. “With the Guild of Sundry.”