by R S Penney
Her mother and several aunts were clustered around a picnic table, talking quietly with one another. They all wore bright, colourful dresses despite the somber weather, and her mother in particular looked lovely in blue with her shoulder-length blonde hair fluttering in the wind. Anna had given some thought to dying her hair. Though if she did, she would want to be a little more daring than just simple golden blonde. Bright blue would be fun. Or maybe a kind of teal green.
She decided to slink by without interrupting them.
In the distance, she saw a gazebo atop a grassy hill with dandelions speckling its gentle slope. Alia was leaning against the wooden railing with her back turned, her head bobbing as she spoke to someone Anna couldn't see. As far as socializing was concerned, she would probably have better luck with people close to her own age.
Maybe it was time to say hello.
“I still can't believe it,” Alia said, pressing her back to the railing. Her strawberry-blonde hair was tied back with a scrunchy, forming a ponytail that fell to her shoulders. “But then she's always been rash.”
“Oh she wasn't that bad,” their cousin Mari replied.
Alia crossed her arms, doubling up as she breathed out a heavy sigh. “You don't live with her,” she said. “Leana had such a promising career as a painter. She won three contests before she was sixteen. Then she threw it all away.”
“Maybe she wanted to help.”
“Help…” Alia muttered. “I'm sure there are plenty of Fringe colonies that would be more than happy to have my dear sister taking gunfire for them. She'll likely be dead by the time I'm twenty-five, and that's not even the worst part.
“I don't know what to say to her anymore. Half the time, I can't tell if I'm talking to her or to…it. Who knows how much she's changed? How much that symbiont altered her mind. I mean, think about it, Mari. Is she even really human anymore?”
“Human enough,” Anna replied.
Alia whirled around, raising a hand to cover her gaping mouth. She backed away slowly. “Leana…” she began. “Leana, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! Wait!”
But Anna was already walking away.
The memory faded leaving only a dull ache in her chest. Six years to the day since she had stumbled into that conversation. Somehow, it still hurt just as much as it had back then. Maybe that was Seth's input. Nassai remembered things with perfect clarity, and though he couldn't just beam information directly into her brain, sometimes she wondered how much her own memory had been strengthened.
Closing her eyes, Anna shuddered as the pain slowly receded. “Let it go now, Lenai,” she said, shaking her head. “Your sister always had uninformed opinions. It's no different than any of the other nonsense she spouts.”
The image of Ganymede was much larger in her window, and she could no longer see Jupiter at all. She had been musing on those old memories for several hours, but now it was time to do her job.
A passive scan would do.
At this distance, she should be able to use the shuttle's cameras to zoom in on the moon's surface. Active lidar pings would almost certainly alert whoever was down there to her presence, but a camera would just pick up whatever light was reflected from the surface. That would make it harder for the shuttle to estimate the shape and size of the base, but it was the safest option.
She activated her sensors and waited. Waiting was the hardest part of this mission. She had shut down every non-essential system upon dropping out of warp – including the artificial gravity – and her stomach was in knots.
Anna winced, pressing a palm to her forehead. “Just a few more hours,” she told herself. “When this is over, you can go home and relax in a nice hot bubble bath.”
Her shuttle spotted something.
Sliding her hands across the console's glossy surface, she moved the navigational control window out of the way and brought up the sensor data. The shuttle's software was programmed to identify artificial structures in a photograph.
The image was as sharp and clear when it appeared on her screen. A single building stood out against the rocky terrain. Using the shuttle's computer, she was able to estimate the base's size and dimensions.
It was a simple, square-shaped structure with a domed roof, roughly twice the size of her old high school. The building's height suggested three stories, but that ignored the possibility of subterranean levels. An installation like that would have anywhere between fifty and two hundred permanent staff members.
Sneaking in would not be easy.
Anna sucked on her lower lip, her nostrils flaring as she let out a breath. “Perhaps you won't have to be the one who goes down there,” she said, wiping sweat off her brow. “Maybe they'll send someone else.”
Somehow, she doubted it.
She began preparing her shuttle to rendezvous with the Elandra. According to the schedule they had set, the ship would be returning from the outer system in just under half an hour. She would have to put herself in its path, then jump to warp just as the other ship passed. No easy thing given the-
HELP ME.
The voice that spoke in her mind was no louder than a whisper, yet somehow forceful enough to drown out every single thought. She sat in stunned silence for a brief moment, wondering if perhaps she had imagined it.
HELP ME, ANNA LENAI.
Nope. She hadn't imagined it.
“Who are you?”
Images flashed in her mind.
The inside of a prison cell with a thick metal door mingled with feelings of terror, humiliation and intense claustrophobia. Before she could even process it, she was forced to endure the sight of a man in a black security guard uniform who wore an ugly scowl on his leathery face.
The guy lifted a nightstick in his right hand, and she tried to focus on the combat instincts that would allow her to catch it and disarm him in short order. But those instincts weren't there. Seth wasn't there either. The only thing Anna felt was a desire to cower and protect herself. These were not her thoughts.
The image faded to be replaced with harsh fluorescent lights in what appeared to be a ceiling. She was lying on something – a table, perhaps – and the restraints on her wrists prevented her from moving.
A man's face filled her vision, and though he was young and handsome, his crooked smile was colder than an arctic blizzard. She barely had time to think before she felt the sting of a needle pricking her arm.
HELP ME.
She was cold, hungry and desperate to escape. When images of the guards popped into her mind, Anna felt a hatred she would have never thought possible. A strong desire to inflict pain just for the satisfaction of seeing her victims cry for mercy. The guards… Anna would have expected them to take advantage of this woman, but none would dare. They were all too afraid of her.
The image shifted, rippling out of existence like a reflection in water that had been disturbed. When the swirling colours reformed into solid objects, she found herself back in the cramped little cell.
The door slid open to reveal a man in black pants and a long blue jacket with gold embroidery on the cuff of each sleeve. A handsome face with dark tilted eyes was framed by shoulder-length black hair. Anna would have gasped if she'd had any control over her body. She'd recognize that traitorous face anywhere.
Grecken Slade.
Everything went dark, and she was amazed to discover that she could once again move her arms and legs. Or rather, she could move the mental projections of her arms and legs. This place was a dreamworld; she knew that somehow. So far as she could tell, she was standing on nothing at all, smack dab in the middle of an endless void. Her first instinct was to wonder why she had been brought here. The answer became clear as soon as she turned around.
Another woman stood with her in the darkness: a tall, slim beauty in a sleeveless dress that exposed the smooth, dark skin of her arms and shoulders. Her round face was quite striking with eyes that smoldered when she looked at you, but her head was shaved. Somehow Anna didn't think that was a deliberat
e choice.
The woman stood on nothing at all and somehow walked across a floor that wasn't there. “Two-soul,” she said, nodding to Anna. “You must help me escape from this place. I have gone to great lengths to attract your attention.”
“Who are you?”
“My birth name was Keli Armana,” she said. “I have the gift of Communion. These men wish to study me.”
“Communion?”
Images flashed in Anna's mind, flickering into existence and disappearing before she could even identify them. She caught a glimpse of a home with a big tree in the front yard, a young man who looked very much like Keli. There were dozens more, but Anna couldn't track them all. She understood in just a few seconds. A telepath.
This woman was a telepath.
Anna shut her eyes, suddenly cognizant of a throbbing pain in her forehead. “You're a telepath,” she said, touching fingertips to her temples. “How did you get my attention? How did you contact me from down there?”
“There is no time for this,” she said. “You must come.”
“You're in the base on Ganymede.”
“Yes. Come.”
The void vanished, and she was back in the shuttle once again, snug and secure in the pilot's seat. Checking her instruments revealed that she had been out of it for a little over a minute. Her shuttle was still on course for its rendezvous with the Elandra. She breathed out a sigh of relief only to realize that things had just become infinitely more complicated.
How was she going to explain this to Jena?
“You're sure it was Slade?”
Jena sat on the edge of her desk in her long brown trenchcoat, resting her hands on her knees. “There's no way you could be mistaken?” she asked. “You're not just seeing what you want to see?”
Hugging herself and rubbing her upper arms, Anna approached the desk with her head down. “I know what I saw,” she answered. “Believe me, I know the face of the man who sent me after the missing symbiont.”
“Could it be a trick?”
Lifting her chin, Anna studied the other woman for a long moment. “Does it really matter?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “We know there's a woman being held captive on that station. It's our duty to free her.”
Jena hopped off the desk.
She turned her back on Anna, making her way over to the huge window that looked out on a vast expanse of stars. “I'm forced to agree…” she muttered. “Call Jack and Ben and put your heads together. I want a mission plan on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
Anna couldn't hide the huge grin on her face. Sometimes, when you did things in the right way, you ended up with a good result. “Thank you, Jena,” she said. “You'll have that plan by tomorrow; I promise you.”
Chapter 10
As house parties went, this one was pretty lame. Though today was the last day of school before Christmas vacation, and that meant her classmates were going to take any excuse to socialize, even if that meant sitting around someone's house and doing very little in the way of partying.
A dozen people were sprawled out on two couches that faced each other on either side of a coffee table. The TV in front of the large rectangular window displayed some kind of football video game; Melissa had never cared for sports games. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, was as focused as a lion on the hunt.
Aaron sat with the controller in hand, a look of concentration on his face. “Come on!” he said, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Come on! Oh yeah! You see that? Touchdown in the final ten seconds, baby!”
He got to his feet with a grunt.
Tall and slim with a nice body, Aaron wore a pair of jeans and a dark gray sweater. His face was handsome with high cheekbones and a pale complexion, his black hair cut so short it was little more than stubble. “Damn, fucker!” he shouted. “You just got pwned. Massively pwned!”
Mike Sanders, the boy who lived in this house, sat on the opposite couch with a big smile on his face. “Winning by one touchdown is not pwnage,” he said, shaking his head in dismay. “So shut the fuck up.”
“You hear that, babe?” Aaron asked.
Melissa sat in a chair with her hands on her knees, her eyes downcast. “Seems like you won to me,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. Why did Aaron always feel the need to drag her into this?
Mike looked up at her, squinting as he sized her up. “Of course you'd say that,” he replied. “You're fucking him.”
Melissa felt intense heat in her cheeks and sweat on her brow. Her face twisted as she strained for a comeback. Why did everyone assume that just because they had been dating for three months that she was…
Nothing came to mind, of course. She wasn't the kind of girl who prided herself on winning verbal sparring matches. She could argue with her father and her sister, but when it came to her classmates, that was another story altogether. In truth, she would have been much happier if they had just left her out of this.
Aaron turned his back on her, crossing his arms as he loomed over Mike. “Yo, man, that was a dick move!” he shouted. “I think you owe my girlfriend an apology!”
“Fuck off.”
Melissa opted to leave instead of listening to more of this. It wouldn't go anywhere in any event; the two of them would just strut around, trying to prove which one of them had higher testosterone levels. She had seen it before, and she wasn't particularly inclined to see it again.
The living room connected with the kitchen through a large, wide opening, and on the other side, she saw a bunch of other kids leaning against the white cupboards that encircled the room. Sarah Larson – a tall girl in a black dress who kept her short blonde hair in a bob – was leaning over the counter and mixing orange pop into a drink she must have invented on her own.
Melissa squeezed her eyes shut, trembling with frustration. “I don't know why they keep doing this,” she said, pacing into the kitchen. “Every time we get together, it's the same damn thing!”
Sarah whirled around with a cup in each hand. The young woman wore a smile on her pretty face, her blue eyes sparkling. “That's what boys do, Miss,” she teased. “Come on. Take your mind off it.”
She offered a cup.
Melissa frowned, glancing down at the drink. “What'd you put in that?” she asked, thick creases stretching across her brow. “I've gotta go back home tonight, and my Dad will have a fit if I get-”
“You worry too much,” Sarah said before lifting her own cup and taking a drink. “See? Nothing crazy. Just a little Smirnoff and a little Orange Crush.”
Melissa cautiously accepted, and after just a few sips, she decided that Sarah was right; she needed to relax. Just a little. Two weeks of tests, term papers and her boyfriend dragging her out with his friends had left her feeling just a little on edge. She knew how to drink carefully. There was no chance of her getting trashed out of her mind.
“Mike's an idiot,” Aaron said, coming up behind her. “Sorry you had to hear that, sweetie. Next time I'll knock him upside the head.”
“Yeah, 'cause that's what she wants.”
A scowl twisted Sarah's features into something nasty as she stared into her cup. “Men,” she huffed. “Always solving problems with violence.”
“Sometimes it's the only thing that works.”
Melissa shut her eyes and touched three fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I need to get out of here,” she muttered. “The whole point of me coming out was to reduce stress.”
Her boyfriend stepped in front of her.
Aaron flashed that devilish smile that left butterflies in her stomach. “You feeling stressed, baby?” he asked. “Come here. I got something to help you relax.”
“I don't want it.”
He backed up with hands raised defensively, nearly stumbling into the kitchen counter. “Oh don't be like that,” he whined. “It took a lot of nagging to convince my guy to let me have a look at it.”
The “guy” he referred to was Chris Beltran, an employee at the local gas station who made a
little extra cash by selling weed to high school students. Aaron's idea of a perfect Saturday night usually involved a bong and the latest version of Modern Warfare. “I don't want any weed,” she told him.
“It's not weed.”
He slipped a hand into his pants pocket, then pulled out a plastic bag with maybe half a dozen purple pills inside. “It's Leyrian stuff,” he went on. “It's supposed to loosen you up and make you feel more confident.”
Sarah perked up when she saw the bag, insisting that she'd like to try it. Melissa couldn't say that she was in any way surprised; if there was a new way to get high, Sarah would always be the first in line.
Her boyfriend gave her one of those puppy-dog stares that said he would be oh so happy if she just gave in on this issue. “I don't know…” Melissa mumbled. “I really don't want my dad catching me.”
Aaron stepped forward.
He offered a small, tight-lipped smile, then leaned in close so that his forehead was almost touching hers. “Come on, babe. I got this stuff for you.” He held the bag up in both hands, waving the purple pills in front of her face. “Just try it once.”
“Aaron-”
“Please.”
His tone of voice reminded her of a little boy begging to stay up just a little longer. That was the way with Aaron; he never threatened or cajoled. He never implied that you might lose his respect if you failed to go along with whatever he wanted. Instead, he just made it clear that saying yes would make him incredibly happy.
Everyone was looking at her, and she had to suppress the sudden urge to hunch up her shoulders and hide her face in her shirt. How was it that she could talk to her parents, her teachers – just about any adult, for that matter – with complete confidence but the instant she felt even a little scrutiny from her peers, she wanted to run and hide? Melissa didn't want to get high, but she wasn't that girl. The uptight girl who got all judgmental whenever her friends wanted to have fun. Whenever they looked at her, she could tell they were expecting her to see that girl.
“Fine,” she said, holding out her hand.