Entanglement

by R S Penney

  “No, you don't understand,” Jack said. “I meant your services as an intelligence operative.”

  “Oh!”

  Her smile only deepened, and she nodded once in approval. “Well then…Perhaps you should tell me what's on your mind.” She spun around to lean back against the wall with hands folded over her stomach. “I assume this has something to do with the telepath who escaped Station Twelve last night.”

  As he studied the many glittering buildings below, watching the sun glint off their windows, Jack couldn't help but feel a little daunted by the prospect of trying to find Keli in this mess. His eyes, sharpened by Summer's efforts to keep him in peak fighting form, picked up the sight of cars and buses moving through the narrow space between two lines of skyscrapers. Keli could be in any one of those. Or none.

  Jack turned his face up to the noonday sun, the wind teasing his hair. “Anna pulled some information out of the two men we brought in,” he explained. “This man who took her has some rather well-to-do clientelle. He'll probably try to sell her to one of them.”

  “Is there any way to know who?”

  Grimacing, Jack lowered his eyes to the ground. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his fist. “The most likely candidate is a local senator with the Worker's Party. I know that LIS keeps tabs on all Earth governments.”

  “You'll have a report on everything we know by tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.”

  The small smile on Gabi's face told him this conversation wasn't over. “One other thing,” she said softly. “Have you given any thought to what we talked about last week?”

  He chuckled. “I have.”

  “And?”

  Jack allowed himself to look at her, to really see her. There was far more to her than just physical beauty. Not that she wasn't quite pleasant to look at: short and curvy with a certain classiness. But it went beyond that.

  Jack had never been the kind of guy who put too much stock in physical beauty anyway. It took more than a photograph to pique his interest. Gabi's sexiness came from her confidence, her intelligence, her wit. And for some reason he couldn't even begin to comprehend, she was into him. Then again, did he really want to question it? Wasn't his habit of sabotaging any chance at happiness just a little bit overplayed at this point?

  Change only came when you made it a point to stop repeating the same pattern. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I think…I think that is something I would like.”

  Melissa bounced on the gym mat in a pair of gray sweat pants and a matching tank top, holding fists up in front of herself. “I'm ready,” she said, embarrassed by the obvious anxiety in her voice.

  The sparring room on Station Twelve was little more than a big empty box with mats spread out on the floor. For the moment, she was alone with her partner and quite grateful for the solitude. Falling flat on her ass in front of several dozen witnesses wasn't her idea of a good time.

  Jena stood on the other side of the mat in identical clothing, her posture far more relaxed. “The first thing you have to learn,” she said, stepping forward, “is confidence. You can't be afraid to throw the first punch.”

  “That's not what I'm afraid of.”

  The other woman lifted her chin, arching one thin eyebrow as she studied Melissa. “Then what are you afraid of?” she asked. “If you're hoping to walk out of here without a few aches and pains, this may not be the career for you.”

  Melissa looked down at herself, a lock of hair falling over her face. She brushed it aside with a huff. “Oh I expect to be sore,” she muttered. “I'm just worried about what you're going to think when I fail.”

  “When you fail?”

  “I've never been much of a fighter.”

  Crossing her arms with a sigh, Jena stood there with obvious disapproval on her face. “You shouldn't expect to fail,” she said. “If you walk into a fight thinking you're going to lose, you'll probably find a way to make it happen.”

  “Okay.”

  Jena lifted her fists into a boxer's stance, somehow managing to display three times the poise that Melissa had to struggle to maintain. “Just like I taught you,” she said. “You know the forms. Now use them.”

  Jena threw a punch.

  What should she do? How should she counter it? The woman's fist made contact with her nose, applying just enough pressure to make her blink. It didn't hurt very much, but her pride was wounded.

  Stepping back, Melissa pressed a palm to her nose and rubbed away the memory of it. “See what I mean?” she whined. “You've shown me how to deflect a punch a thousand times, and I still screwed up.”

  “Knowing the forms and developing the instincts to use them properly are two very different things,” Jena said. When Melissa focused on her teacher, she found the woman standing there with a sour expression. “You need practice. Let's go again.”

  Melissa tried to backhand.

  Crouching down, Jena reached up to seize her forearm with both hands. The other woman charged forward, and the next thing Melissa knew, she was falling backwards to land hard on her ass. When she got her bearings, she saw her teacher standing over her.

  Jena stood with fists on her hips, smiling down at her. “It takes practice,” she said. “You will get the hang of it eventually.”

  Melissa sat up.

  Hanging her head, she rubbed a spot just above the bridge of her nose. “I don't know,” she said, getting to her feet with a little effort. “When I watch footage of you guys in action, you're just so graceful. I played a little softball, but I've never had a reputation for athletics.”

  “You know, Jack once told me that when Anna was teaching him to fight, she often pointed out his lack of confidence. Funny thing is, I went and looked up some footage of our dear Agent Lenai in her academy days. Do you want to know what I found?

  “She was one of the most timid students I'd ever seen. There she was: a tiny wisp of a girl. Barely five feet tall and facing down a man nearly twice her size. She spent more than half that match retreating, trying to stay out of arm's reach. Confidence comes with practice. We're all unsure of ourselves at first.”

  “Even you?”

  Jena dropped to one knee at the edge of the gym mat, using a towel to wipe sweat off her face. “Well…” she admitted. “I suppose there are exceptions to every rule. But I was cocky and stupid.”

  Pressing her lips into a thin line, Melissa narrowed her eyes. “I have a hard time believing that,” she said, shaking her head. “You seem like the kind of person who can outwit any opponent.”

  “Comes with experience, kid.” Glancing over her shoulder, Jena flashed a smile that could melt ice. “Being a good Keeper isn't about how straight you shoot or how well you fight.”

  She got up with a groan, dropping the towel to the floor. Knuckling her back with one hand, Jena turned around. “The Nassai want people who care about justice. If you have that to start with, we can mold you into what you need to be.”

  Concern for justice.

  That got Melissa thinking about her latest conversation with her father. He was still uneasy about the prospect of his daughter spending time with a telepath, but with a little coaxing, she might be able to change his mind. Maybe Jena could help. From what little she had gleaned through contact with Raynar, the boy had been severely traumatized. He needed a friend.

  Melissa clasped her hands together behind her back, bowing her head to the other woman. “So I was wondering,” she began with a shrug. “Would you be able to set up a meeting with Raynar and possibly his companion?”

  Jena turned with menace in her eyes.

  Melissa smiled, her cheeks suddenly burning. “It's not what you think,” she said, taking a step back. “He's just a nice kid who's been through some stuff. He could use a friend right now.”

  Jena looked her up and down with eyes that could peel the hide off a wolf. “I don't know what you've been told,” she began cautiously. “But Raynar is in a detention cell at the moment. We lost Keli the other night.”<
br />
  “Lost her? How?”

  “She escaped,” Jena said. “The woman used some kind of mind mojo on one of our Keepers. Left him disoriented while she used the SlipGate.”

  Crossing her arms, Melissa turned away from the other woman. A shiver ran down her spine. “Sorry to hear that,” she whispered. “Do you believe Raynar was in some way involved with her escape?”

  “We're not sure.”

  “So what are you charging him with?”

  “At the moment, nothing.” The soft squeak of the gym mat told her that Jena was coming up behind her. You didn't have to be a Keeper to have eyes in the back of your head; you just had to be observant. “First Slade and then Keli. Two major incidents in one week. I'm not willing to let that boy cause any more havoc.”

  Looking up, Melissa blinked at the ceiling. “But he might be innocent,” she said, whirling around to face her mentor. “Isn't holding him without evidence a pretty big violation of your oath?”

  Jena frowned down at the floor, reaching up with one hand to run fingers through her hair. “You're definitely your father's daughter,” she muttered. “I'm sure we can find some proviso in the law that makes an exception when the prisoner is an obvious threat to public safety.”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Melissa shook her head in frustration. “I think I can get through to him,” she said, approaching the other woman. “He trusts me. If he does know something, I think he'd be willing to tell me.”

  Jena's face could have been carved from granite, her eyes sharp enough to split a stone in half. “You think so?” she asked. “You think you can sift through the illusions a telepath might weave into your mind?”

  “Maybe not,” Melissa admitted with some reluctance. “But don't you think it's better than violating his rights?”

  The ghost of a smile flashed across Jena's face, a smile that vanished so quickly you might have thought you'd imagined it. “I see you have been listening to your father,” she said. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I have absolutely no intention of holding that boy indefinitely. If worse comes to worst, I'll release him back to his people.”

  “They'll enslave him again!”

  “Not necessarily. I won't give him back to the military.” Jena took a deep breath, and it was clear that she was nearing the end of her patience. “Now, I'd like you to note that while I appreciate your commitment to human rights, I know a little bit more about this situation than you do. So can we please resume your lesson?”

  “All right.”

  Melissa was happy to let the subject drop for now, but a nagging frustration in her belly made it clear this wasn't over just yet. Raynar had shared his experiences with her. In a way, she had lived them first hand. There was no way she was going to let him wind up in another cell.

  Anna checked herself in the mirror.

  Her face was framed by a bob of short brown hair with thin bangs falling over her forehead. “It'll do,” she said, her eyebrows rising. “A little shorter than what I'm used to, but it could be fun.”

  A red dress with thin straps that tied behind her neck clung lovingly to her body, and she had to admit that she was a little self-conscious. Anna liked dresses – something she hadn't discovered until well into adolescence – but she preferred cute over sexy. This one seemed to emphasize assets she didn't even know she had.

  With a sigh, she turned.

  The small bathroom in Gabi's quarters was just big enough for two people to stand side by side, and she was more than a little put off by having to share the space with the other woman. Of course, she was the guest here. The alternative was putting on this silly getup in her own apartment and wearing it on her trip to the SlipGate terminal. In the harsh Canadian winter, no less!

  Gabi stood in front of the counter in a silver dress with a swooping neckline, her long black hair falling over her shoulder-blades. The look of concentration on her face was something Anna usually expected from a sniper lining up her shot. “You look very fetching,” Gabi said in a soft voice.

  “I'll just be happy when this is over.”

  A few days on a reduced dose of Amps had made Rosco and Mei-Ling more than willing to talk. The side-effects of that Bleakness-cursed drug were enough to turn Anna's stomach. Increasing the dose to the levels they needed was out of the question, of course – they could hardly leave a pair of psychos with Keeper strength unattended in a detention cell – but Jena had authorized a little bit extra to relieve their symptoms.

  The pair weren't entirely certain what their boss intended to do with his brand new telepath, but Rawlins had several well-to-do clients, the most influential of which was one Senator Camacho, a man who just happened to be throwing a fundraiser tonight. Access to a telepath would be very useful for a politician. If Camacho had indeed purchased Keli's services, she would be at the party.

  Anna turned around.

  She stood with her arms folded, frowning down at herself. “I feel like a complete idiot,” she said. “Honestly, Gabi, how did you learn to walk around in something like this?”

  Gabi was using some kind of cloth pad to apply a thin layer of makeup to her face. “The Antaurans are far worse when it comes to fashion.” She leaned in close to study herself in the mirror. “Wear a few of their outfits and you'll develop a new appreciation for Earth clothing.”

  The woman glanced over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow, and suddenly Anna was reminded of her primary school teachers. “Aren't you going to finish getting ready? We have to leave soon.”

  “I am ready.”

  “You're not putting on makeup?”

  Anna snarled like a feral beast, shaking her head. “It's an idiotic custom,” she said, facing the mirror once again. “You go to all that hassle just to paint your cheeks a slightly different shade of your natural skin tone. No thank you.”

  “Yes, but your job is to blend,” Gabi countered. “This mission requires finesse, not the obvious flash and flair that most Keepers employ. Earth women put on makeup, and though it's not a major tip off, these little things will stand out to a trained eye.”

  Anna growled.

  She grabbed the case of colourful powders and chose something with a reddish hue. She figured that it was called 'blush' for a reason. However, before she could even begin to apply it, Gabi seized her wrist.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Anna frowned at the other woman. “I thought I was supposed to blend in.”

  Gabi stared down at the counter with lips pursed, sighing with exasperation. “You chose the wrong shade, dear,” she said softly. “If you put that one on you'll look…well, silly to say the least.”

  “Companion have mercy!”

  “Look, just leave that alone for now,” Gabi muttered. “It won't cause that much of a stir, in the long run. Some other time, I will teach you how to do this.” When she saw the look on Anna's face, she added. “If you want to learn, that is.”

  Anna stalked out into the living room with irritation slowly fizzling away. At least she didn't have to put up with idiotic Earth customs. Honestly…why any woman in her right mind would want to decorate her face like some kind of mural in a hallway was just beyond her, and she had already made a few concessions to the need for stealth.

  The haircut wasn't something she had planned on, but if Camacho had purchased Keli's services from Rawlins, then it was likely that the drug dealer had warned him to be on the lookout for a Keeper with bright red hair. Brunette had not been her first choice of hair colour. She wanted to do something fun – Blue hair had always appealed to her – but Gabi had nixed that idea in short order. She was playing the role of a junior executive for a multinational bank, and women in such positions did not dye their hair blue.

  Like all other crew quarters on the orbital stations, Gabi's living room was a fairly large space with a glass coffee table and a couch positioned under windows that looked out upon the stars.

  Anna stoo
d hunched over, reaching up to brush strands of dark hair off her cheek. “Just a few short hours,” she muttered to herself. “Play this role for one night, and you can go back to being the girl who wears adorable t-shirts.”

  The door chime rang.

  “Come in!”

  Double doors slid open to reveal Jack standing outside in a tuxedo with a skinny necktie. His hair had been dyed a deep golden blonde. “Tell me the truth,” he whined, shuffling into the living room. “How bad is it?”

  Covering her mouth with three fingers, Anna shut her eyes and trembled with soft laughter. “It's…nice…” she managed after a moment. “Really, you're going to be the envy of drunken frat boys everywhere.”

  Jack looked up at the ceiling. Deep creases formed in his brow. “I'm gonna die,” he croaked out in a voice that made her think of a frog being stepped on. “I'm gonna die slowly and painfully.”

  “It's not that bad.”

  Gabi emerged from the bathroom, looking hot enough to stave off winter in that silver dress. It was something about the way she walked. The woman moved with a kind of grace you couldn't duplicate even with a Nassai's assistance. “Jack!” she exclaimed with a glance in his direction. “You look smashing.”

  Jack went red, then lowered his eyes to the floor. “Thank you,” he said, backing up until his body was pressed to the wall. “Now all I need is for Ashton Kutcher to jump out of nowhere and tell me I've been punked.”

  “Don't listen to Anna,” Gabi said.

  When Anna turned, the woman was kneeling by the couch, fishing a pair of shoes out from a small trunk. “She has been less than cooperative to say the least. I think you look quite handsome.”

  The door chime rang again.

  This time, it was Ben who strode into the living room, dressed in a tuxedo that was similar to Jack's. He grunted as he straightened the cuff of his sleeve, shaking his head. “I, for one, am ready to have some fun.”