I had to admit to being surprised. Gray had more or less cited the most notable highlights of my visit to Caeles, save perhaps one: the fact that I’d met a future version of myself, who had gone inside my head and manipulated some things. On the whole, however, Gray’s info wasn’t just up-to-date, but also incredibly accurate. I was aware of the fact that he had a wide array of resources, but I couldn’t help but be impressed (although I wasn’t going to let him know that).
After taking a moment to recover, I said, “Doesn’t sound like it’s error-free, but your profile on me is probably close enough to explain how Jack got the bulk of his info about yours truly.”
“And he could talk to your friends to fill in the blanks on the negligible stuff.”
“While pretending to be me,” I added. “You know, it would have been nice if you guys had worked on instilling a nice set of scruples in Jack so he’d realize that kind of thing is wrong.”
“You still don’t understand,” Gray stated in a patronizing tone. “He was created to be a weapon – no different than a gun or a grenade. When’s the last time you heard of a pistol having principles or a code of conduct?”
“Okay,” I snapped back, “forget a code of conduct. How about just a safety catch, or an ‘off’ button?”
A sudden gleam appeared in Gray’s eyes, albeit only momentarily. However, it was enough to tip me off.
“Okay, what is it?” I asked.
“What’s what?” Gray responded, feigning ignorance.
“You’ve got something else on Jack – something you haven’t mentioned yet. What is it?”
“Very good,” Gray said, nodding. “I do have other info, but unfortunately, it’s highly classified. I can only share it with those having the proper clearance. That usually equates to members of my team – and those committed to joining us.”
“So that’s it,” I continued. “That’s the real reason you got me here. You’ve got something to sell me on Jack, and the price is me coming to work for you.”
“No,” he insisted. “That would be a nice outcome, but I’m not so foolish as to think we’re there yet. So, my intention is merely to help you as much as I can within the bounds of my mandate.”
“I think I’ve heard enough,” I said flatly. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”
“Oh, so I get an alert before you depart this time,” he muttered, chuckling. “I must be moving up in the world.”
I rolled my eyes at his comment, but didn’t say anything.
“Seriously though,” he went on, sobering, “feel free to call me if you need me. In all honesty, Jim, I’m just trying to help.”
“Your kind of help comes with too many strings,” I declared, “so thanks for nothing, Gray.”
He smiled. “You know, before all is said and done here, I’m going to have to think of a way to get you to call me Mister Gray.”
“Keep dreaming,” I almost growled. “A mouse has a better chance of marrying a cat and living happily ever after.”
Then I teleported.
Chapter 66
I popped up in Mouse’s lab. My mentor and BT were nowhere around, but I did see a note indicating that they had stepped out for a bite to eat, plainly intent on getting the lunch I had failed to bring back earlier. Not knowing when I’d be back, it was a fairly practical decision on their part, and I spent a moment debating on whether to try running them down. In truth, my discussion with Gray struck me now as a non-event for the most part, as he hadn’t really imparted anything new. That being the case, I decided to follow their lead and get some sustenance myself. Thus, I spent a moment scrawling my own message at the bottom of the aforementioned note (stating that the meeting with Gray was anticlimactic), and then teleported home.
Appearing in the kitchen, I immediately sensed that no one was present but Myshtal. I telepathically reached out to let her know I was around – didn’t want her to hear me making noise and think a prowler was on the premises. She mentally shot back that she was coming to join me, and a few moments later, she appeared.
“Hello,” she said, smiling.
“Hey,” I replied. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing – just reading a book.” Then she added, “If you’re looking for your mother and grandparents, they went out.”
“No, I only popped in to get something to eat,” I stated. Then I frowned. “Wait a minute. Have you been here by yourself all day?”
“Yes, but it’s fine,” she insisted. “Your family asked if I wanted to join them, but I decided to stay here.”
“Oh?” I muttered, raising an eyebrow. It seemed to me that Myshtal spent more than enough time at the embassy. I would have assumed that she was dying to get out.
“They’re getting ready to leave,” she explained. “They’re saying goodbye to old friends, favorite places, treasured memories… Everything that’s familiar. Having gone through the same thing myself, I didn’t want them to be burdened with having to babysit me while they severed ties with so much of the world around them.”
“So they told you,” I surmised. “You know they’re leaving the planet.”
“Yes,” she answered, nodding. “But even if they hadn’t mentioned it, it was going to become evident pretty soon that they went somewhere when they suddenly vanished without a trace.”
“True,” I admitted, chuckling. “But I don’t think my family would leave without telling you goodbye. They would consider it impolite. Plus, they adore you.”
“Really?” she asked. “So all the Carrows are fond of me?”
I blinked. Her query struck me as slightly odd – almost like she was posing two questions in one.
“Of course,” I quickly uttered, hoping I hadn’t paused too long before responding. “Everyone thinks you’re wonderful.”
“Great. I was worried that my being here was becoming a bit of a strain.”
“What?” I blurted. “No…absolutely not. I know that we’ve been preoccupied lately – especially me – but all of us love having you here.”
“And on my part, I should make it clear that you’ve been wonderful hosts,” she intoned. “Now, I believe you mentioned getting something to eat?”
*****
It turned out that Myshtal hadn’t had lunch either, so I ended up nuking a couple of cans of soup in the microwave for us. Afterwards, we sat in the breakfast area, discussing the book she’d been reading (one of Mom’s romances) as we ate.
As always, Myshtal was bubbly and engaging, and it wasn’t long before the conversation moved from books to a variety of other subjects. We found ourselves discussing everything from furniture to pets – mostly comparing Earth versions to their Caelesian counterparts – and I was so engrossed that I quickly lost track of time. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated, indicating receipt of a text message, that I realized how long we’d been talking.
“It’s Electra,” I said aloud as I glanced at my phone. “She wants to meet in the teen lounge at HQ in about twenty minutes.”
“Oh,” Myshtal murmured. “I suppose you should go, then.”
Empathically, I sensed that she was a little crestfallen. We’d been having a good time just chatting, and now I was about to run off again. Remembering my grandfather’s earlier statements, I decided to be bold.
“You know what?” I began. “Why don’t you come, too?”
Myshtal perked up immediately, but then seemed to become wary.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to make waves.”
“It’ll be fine,” I declared, with more confidence than I felt. Electra probably wouldn’t be wild about the notion, but – with the rest of my family leaving soon – I needed to start acclimating her to the fact that Myshtal was going to be around more often than not.
With that in mind, I sent a text back to my girlfriend indicating that Myshtal would be joining us. Much to my surprise, she immediately responded, saying it wasn’t a problem. (More specifically, she wrote, “The more, the merrier…”)
With that, I asked Myshtal if she was ready and – upon receiving a reply in the affirmative – teleported us to HQ.
Chapter 67
With some time to kill before meeting Electra, I actually took us to Mouse’s lab. My mentor and BT were now back and greeted us cordially after noting our arrival.
“Got your note,” Mouse said to me after the salutations were done. “Sounds like Gray didn’t really have much to impart.”
“Not really,” I agreed. “I don’t think he said anything worth noting.”
“Hmmm,” BT muttered. “With no new developments or information, we may be at an impasse at the moment.”
“So what does that mean?” asked Myshtal.
“It means we wait until Jack does something else,” Mouse replied. “Anyway, what are you two up to?”
“We’re going to meet Electra in the teen lounge in a few minutes,” I replied.
“Good,” BT said, then turned to Myshtal. “I’m glad that Jim’s current issues haven’t kept him from showing you around.”
“Oh no,” Myshtal assured her. “He’s been great. He even showed me the quarters that I’d be occupying here.”
She then began to recount for BT our earlier visit to HQ, telling her what a wonderful tour guide I’d been. While she was talking, Mouse motioned me aside, indicating that he wanted to speak with me.
“What’s up?” I asked after we had moved a few feet away from the others.
“The princess,” he answered, inclining his head towards Myshtal. “Seeing her reminded me that if she’s going to be joining us here, she’ll probably need to be assigned a mentor.”
“Makes sense,” I noted with a nod. All of us who were part of the League’s teen affiliate had mentors. Myshtal shouldn’t be an exception.
“I’ve been considering the options,” Mouse said, “but figured that it probably made sense to let you weigh in since you know the princess better than anyone else.”
“Okay, who’s at the top of your list?”
“Actually, I was thinking Vixen.”
“No way,” I declared, emphatically shaking my head.
“Why not?” Mouse inquired. “She’s not mentoring anyone at the moment, and she’s a solid member of Alpha League.”
“Your girlfriend’s also a Siren,” I added, “able to manipulate the opposite sex. Do you really think it’s a good idea to have her mentoring a girl I’m trying to break off an engagement with?”
“What, are you afraid she’ll show the princess how to actually wrangle you into marrying her?”
I gave him an evil look then said, “Who else you got?”
“Luna,” Mouse replied.
“Luna?” I repeated, frowning. Luna was a League member who derived her abilities from the moon. She was powerful, but drew her name from an ancient goddess who had inspired the word “lunatic.” More to the point, Luna seemed to have a personality influenced by her namesake.
“I don’t know,” I finally admitted after a few moments. “Isn’t she kind of – what’s the word I’m looking for – crazy?”
Mouse chuckled. “She’s not crazy. She’s just extraordinarily passionate about everything she does.”
“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” I muttered, reflecting on a recent incident where Luna literally washed a would-be mugger’s mouth out with soap before turning him over to the authorities because he called her a name she didn’t like. “Who else is on your short list?”
“Why don’t we tackle this from a different angle?” Mouse queried in response. “Instead of me rattling off names that you might ultimately want to strike, let’s talk about the things you’re thinking the princess needs in a mentor.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “For starters, she needs someone who’s going to be patient with her. Remember, despite her appearance, she’s an alien. She’s adjusted pretty well to Earth culture, but she’s still going to have lots of questions and is bound to make missteps.”
“That’s reasonable,” Mouse stated with a nod. “What else?”
“Someone mature. A person who’s going to help her when she makes the occasional social blunder instead of making fun of her.”
“Got it.”
“She also needs a mentor who’s accessible – someone she can reach out to at any time, day or night, if she’s having issues.”
“Hmmm,” Mouse droned. “I’m starting to understand now why you never seem to respect my schedule.”
I grinned, then went on listing the characteristics I thought would be important in any potential mentor for Myshtal. To be frank, I patterned my statements in large part on my relationship with Mouse. That fact wasn’t lost on him; although Mouse didn’t say anything about it, I felt a sense of satisfaction arise in him as he listened to my comments – gratification that he had been doing his job well. (I made a mental note to do something to let Mouse know that he’d been a great mentor – stellar, in fact.)
It took a few minutes, but by the time I was winding down, I felt that I’d provided a pretty good roadmap for fruitful mentor-mentee relations.
“Anything else?” Mouse asked as I seemed to come to the end of my index of qualifications.
“Yeah,” I said. “A good sense of humor. You guys have a tendency to be way too stiff and form–”
I found myself cut off as lights began flashing throughout the lab and something like a mid-volume alarm clock began sounding.
“What’s happening?!” I yelled at Mouse.
“It’s Jack!” he shouted back. “He’s here!”
I was about to ask where when I suddenly picked up a massive surge of emotions. The feelings I sensed ran the gamut, from fear to concern to anger, and I knew based on past experience that I was picking up on the collective emotional responses of a crowd of people simultaneously experiencing a specific event – like an earthquake or a fire. Moreover, the feelings all emanated from a central location: the teen lounge.
I teleported there without another word to Mouse – and almost immediately found myself under attack.
Chapter 68
I popped up in the middle of the teen lounge. The first thing I noticed was that almost everyone in the room – about twenty people in total – was on their feet and facing the far wall, with their backs to me. I also realized that the place was a mess. There was at least one overturned table and another that looked like it had been smashed, along with all kinds of stuff on the floor: smashed glassware, spilled drinks, food and snacks… All in all, it looked like there had been some kind of stampede.
“There he is!” someone yelled. “Get him!”
Jack! I thought, as everyone turned in my direction. Suddenly sensing a bevy of antagonistic emotions coming from the other teens, I shifted into super speed and spun around.
There was no one there.
Confused, I turned back towards my fellows, only to realize that the entire room had seemingly launched a blitzkrieg against me.
The world around me had gone into slow motion for the most part, but from what I could see, there were at least three projectiles headed straight at me: a bolt of charcoal-gray energy that had seemingly come from a guy known as Nightshift, what appeared to be a wooden knife that had been flung by a fellow called Boomstick, and a bottle of water. I almost laughed at the last, until I realized it had been thrown by a teen named Actinic, who could change the chemical composition of materials. That meant that the liquid in the bottle was probably no longer water – a fact proven when I saw that whatever fluid it now contained was already eating through the bottle that held it.
Moreover, although most of their fellows were moving in relative slow motion, I saw three of those present coming towards me at what seemed like a normal pace. That meant they were speedsters.
The first two I recognized as a brother-and-sister team of fraternal twins known as Haste and Hustle. I wasn’t completely familiar with their power set, but apparently super speed was among their abilities. The other person coming at me
was Dynamo – a guy who had generally been ranked second only to my brother Paramount when it came to powerful teens.
Trying to prioritize the potential threats in order of importance, it seemed prudent to deal with the people first and the projectiles afterwards. One of my patented methods for dealing with speedsters is to telekinetically trip them. People get shaken up from stumbling while walking at a normal pace; tumbling along the ground at Mach speed will really rattle you. However, these were my comrades-in-arms and I didn’t want to hurt them. So, with that in mind, I teleported the twins to the middle of the swimming pool in the League’s rec area.
I then turned to Dynamo, ready to send him on the same trip. However, as I was preparing to do so, I witnessed him getting tackled from the side by none other than Atalanta, who seemed to come out of nowhere. Her momentum sent the two of them smashing through (and obliterating) a shuffleboard table before breaking through a wall like it was made of paper-mâché.
Somewhat surprised but grateful for the Argonaut’s interference, I turned my attention to the projectiles. With the speedsters out of the way, dealing with these were child’s play, and I resorted to my usual method of avoiding harm: phasing. At the same time, I also stepped out of the path of the thrown items, became invisible, and then returned to normal speed.
The bottle thrown by Actinic seemed to have the lowest trajectory and hit first, striking the floor. The bottle was practically gone by that point, and the liquid it had contained splashed slightly as it struck. Almost immediately, noxious-looking fumes began to spew into the air from where the fluid had landed.
The wooden knife Boomstick had tossed struck the wall and exploded, blasting away plaster and exposing the interior wooden frame.
The third projectile – Nightshift’s weird energy bolt – hit a dartboard hanging on the wall, which then swiftly became engulfed in some queer, viscous substance that looked like dark gray tar. It spread rapidly all over and was seemingly dense, as the nail the dartboard hung from began to bend with the weight.
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