by Lee Winter
Lena blinked. She couldn’t actually imagine anything she did being of interest to Talon Man.
“You recall when we hired you? You’d been jobless. Homeless. You had a bit of an attitude. We didn’t have to give you a job. No one else wanted you. And with high school scores like yours, frankly you were a joke. Not to mention you were a mess.”
Steadily eyeing him, Lena folded her arms. She pushed her anger down and waited for him to get to a point.
“We felt sorry for you—but we don’t hire on the basis of pity. It was only Mind Merge’s glowing recommendation that got you through to the second stage.”
“Mind Merge? I’ve never even met him.”
“Well, he knows you. He’s been aware of your progress your whole life. How do you think you got an offer to interview with us in the first place?”
“Why would he do that for a stranger?”
“Except he’s not a stranger, at least not to one of your relatives. Your late grandmother, on your mother’s side, I believe? He never could keep his tights on.”
Lena had to force herself not to reel at the implication.
“If you recall, a DNA sample was taken at your medical on the day of your interview,” Talon Man continued. “It confirmed what Mind Merge told us—you are a third-generation guardian. That’s why you got hired. You’re one of us. Where do you think you got that impressive silver tongue from? Certainly not from the common side of your uninspiring gene pool.” He laughed.
Shock coursed through Lena, and her ears began to buzz. Dropping her hands to her thighs, she leaned forward, breathing deeply. She’d spent her whole life pitted against guardians. Tracking them. Hating them as pathetic whiners. And now she was part guardian? A third-gen! God, she used to mock the third-gens as entitled, arrogant wastes of space. Her stomach churned. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Her only skill that made her valuable, the only thing that was special about her, might be just some inherited power? She sucked in a ragged breath, desperate for oxygen to clear her head, as another thought hit her.
Had Nyah known?
The guardian’s cryptic statement came back to her from when she’d told her about her mother’s mental ability: Who was it?
Fuck. She’d known. Of course she had. She was a goddamn scientist, and had put it together in seconds. It was Lena who was the stupid shreekopf who’d never figured out how such an alien thing as mind-reading had suddenly entered her family’s genetic makeup. It was so obvious now she thought of it.
Talon Man was watching her reaction, distaste warring with amusement on his rugged features. “A bit of a shock then? Well, you can’t choose family. But I’ll cut to the chase for you. You owe us for the opportunity that no one else would give you.”
Shooting bolt upright, squaring her back, Lena eyed him coldly. “You could have damn well told me. And in case you’re blind, I haven’t let you down,” she said, words shaking as she spat them out. “I’m your top tracker in the world right now.”
“Oh I know, I know. You’ve done very well for yourself despite your…shortcomings earlier in life. But you need to know that while we protect our own, it cuts both ways. We also expect you to protect us.”
“From what?”
“From whatever tall tales Nyah has likely told you about what it’s like being a guardian. I’d hate for you to suddenly decide to share her theories and grievances. Spread lies. Because it’s just one person’s perspective, and it’s a twisted one at that. She’s bitter for reasons that have nothing to do with being a guardian. Let’s just say she’s had a difficult transition on Earth.”
Lena gaped at him stupidly. Of all the asshole things to say about her.
He gave her an oily smile as he studied her stupefied expression. “Oh that’s right, your limited schooling again. I’m sorry if I’m not making myself clear enough for you. I’ll break it down for you very simply. Clause 47.2b of your Non-Disclosure Agreement that you signed when you joined us prevents you from writing or speaking to the media or the public about anything that could cause damage to guardians or impugn the Facility in any way. That means, in layman’s terms, you keep your big trap shut. Got it?”
Lena peered at him. “No. Actually you’ve lost me. What tales can I tell? What are you even talking about? You guys are guardians, right? Heroes! There is nothing damaging to say about you. So why would I ever say otherwise? I really don’t get it.”
Talon Man tilted his head as he examined her closely. It was a gesture so achingly familiar. Nyah would do that too when she wanted to make sense of something.
Finally, the guardian leader smiled again, and it was a smile so patronizing that she had to swallow a nasty insult.
“Well, well, how convenient for us.” His shoulders relaxed and he took a step back. “You really aren’t at much of a risk for spraining any brain cells are you? Must be your grandmother’s side. Your school marks truly didn’t lie. Did they, my dear?”
“What the hell?” Lena said indignantly. “Did you just insult my nan?”
“If you have to ask,” he murmured, his eyes amused. His insincere expression shifted to placating. “Sorry, I had to ask, you understand. I needed to know that you’re loyal. That we can rely on you,” he said, patting her arm. Lena fought the urge to wrench it out of his reach. She’d give it an extra wash later.
“Rely on me? I still don’t get it.” She gave him a perplexed look.
“Which is profoundly gratifying.” The music began, signaling that the second half of the ceremony was about to begin. “Ah, my cue.” He studied her for a moment longer, snorted, and shook his head, suppressing laughter as he headed for the stage.
Lena watched him go. The moment his back was turned, she allowed an unamused smile. The arrogant were always the easiest to manipulate. You simply fed them the narrative that most closely matched what they already thought of you. He assumed she was a simpleton. Now he was convinced she was with every fiber of his being. You had to love the universe’s sense of humor. Her manipulation of the guardian who’d hired and trained her to manipulate guardians. Allowing Talon Man to believe he’d won his little game was the safest place to leave him. Of course, punching that smug smile off his plastic face would have been another good place.
She turned to leave when a shadow fell over her. The Facility’s enormous security guard—and occasional driver, apparently—stared down at her.
“What?” she asked waspishly.
“You are like her.”
It was the first time she’d ever heard him speak, and his voice was so low and deep it felt as though the ground beneath her feet was rumbling. “Who?”
“Nyah.”
“A good thing,” she snapped.
“A very good thing,” he agreed. “Despite what Tal said, the other founders appreciate Nyah and want her to be content. Were you honest when you told him that she’s happy now?”
“Yeah. She’s with her people again. A team of botanists.”
His face split into a wide smile. “Well, I am most glad to hear this. She deserved much more than she received in her life here, especially being who she was.”
Lena peered at him uncertainly. “What do you mean?”
The giant guardian studied her in confusion. “Do you truly not know who she is to us? Did she not tell you?”
“A scientist,” Lena said, suddenly filled with doubt. “Botanist?”
“Nyah was a botanist, yes. She was also Aril’s chief scientist.”
“Oh. That’s pretty high up, right?”
“Tracker Martin, Nyah was our chief scientist—on a science planet. She was our world’s leader. This was why she was on the last ship that escaped our world. She wouldn’t abandon her duty or her home until every other citizen was safe. All the other scientists had long left. The guardians on Earth all admire her a great deal, but we are not like her. We are not her peers, and we did not truly understand her. But we did understand the sacrifices she made for our safety.”
�
��You let your world’s president be replaced by a used-car salesman?” Outrage coursed through Lena. It was one thing believing Nyah was the smartest guardian among the founders who’d been somehow overlooked. But it was appalling hearing she was already their leader and had been tossed aside like some shameful secret.
“It was her decision to hide her true identity. She knew she would not be accepted by your people back then. We all felt the hostility and suspicion our arrival caused. She needed to overcome it rapidly, so she allowed Tal to assume her position. She had hoped he would be better at it than he has been.”
Lena’s voice rose an octave. “She could have changed Earth’s history if she’d announced she was your leader. Can you imagine? A woman, not white or straight, in the 1900s showing the world what was possible?”
“Or it would have signed our death warrants. The times were stifling and hostile to one such as her. She did what she had to. She protected us all that day. She was a true leader.”
“That must have been fun for her.” Lena scowled.
“It is a sadness to us that she was the only one among our kind who immediately despised the job the humans gave us. She did it for a century, even so. Could anyone else have done this? I don’t think so.” He shook his massive head. “So I hope you will do us a favor?”
“What is it?”
“When you see her again, tell her she is the best of us. We’re sorry she felt she had to leave us. But we understand. All of us just want her to be happy, wherever she is.”
“I’m not sure I will see her again.”
He tilted his head. “Then you are fortunate to have shared even a little time with her. She is remarkable.”
The music on the stage changed and the guardian pivoted to face the entrance to it. “My turn.”
“Wait! You’re a founder?” She looked at him in confusion. She knew all fifty and he was not…
His body fluttered and shimmered, and suddenly the tall, broad-shouldered Volcano Man appeared.
“I like my anonymity,” he explained, before pausing, as though remembering something. “By the way, can you remind Eloise to stop smiling or people will become suspicious. Shattergirl doesn’t smile. She has never smiled even once since I’ve known her.”
He gave her a sad look at that thought, and then nodded, heading for the stage. A roar of applause greeted him. Lena turned over his words. It was not true. Not anymore. Shattergirl does smile, Lena wanted to tell him.
She just needs a reason to.
CHAPTER 16
Lena knocked on her neighbor’s door, leaning heavily against the frame, still jet-lagged and feeling less than sociable after too much interaction with her fellow man at the Guardian Ceremony the previous night.
Mrs. Finkel opened it. She smiled warmly as she took Lena’s measure, peering at her over her spectacles, her gaze dropping to her arm, which now bore a distinctive Beast Lord scar, and then back to Lena’s face. Her greying eyebrows lifted.
“Hey,” Lena said tiredly.
“Lena, dear, welcome back. I have your mail for you. All bills, unfortunately. I’ll grab it in a minute. Do you want a coffee first?”
“No thanks. I’m here to… I have to ask you something.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“Can you, um, come with me for a sec?”
Mrs. Finkel looked intrigued as she nodded and followed Lena back to her apartment across the hall. Lena closed the door firmly, and gestured to her coffee table. It was littered with worn notebooks and printouts from her FacTrack data files.
“It’s like this,” Lena said, shoving her hands in her pockets and looking at her sideways. “I need someone who can spell to, you know, organize all my work notes. Type them up for me.”
Mrs. Finkel lowered herself to the sofa, shock registering on her features.
Lena knew exactly how it sounded. In all her years of living here she’d never once volunteered a single scrap of information about her working life. Nor had she ever invited Mrs. Finkel into her home, much less allowed her to see the contents of her notebooks, filled with her embarrassing child-like scrawl. A child-like scrawl that could blow the world apart.
Mrs. Finkel picked up a notebook and began to read. She paused after a sentence. “Beast Lord?” she enquired. “Why are you looking for a Beast Lord? Is that…is he a guardian? Now wait, why would anyone have cause to chase down a guardian?”
“I can’t discuss my work matters with someone outside of the Facility. I signed a binding non-disclosure agreement.” Lena looked at her pointedly.
Mrs. Finkel stared at her hard, curiosity flitting past on its way to excitement. “An NDA?” she replied lightly. “Well, that sounds terribly constrictive.” She met her eye. “Is that a problem?”
“I suspect my employers don’t even properly read what they had us sign. I read all forty-nine pages in detail on the plane ride home. The contract prohibits commons from writing about guardian secrets. It doesn’t say a thing about what third-gens can share.”
Mrs. Finkel’s expression told her that she didn’t understand what she was saying, but knew she wasn’t meant to. She nodded for Lena to continue.
“But we’re not here to discuss my contract,” Lena said casually. “We’re here because, well…look at this mess. It’s chaos. How can I concentrate?”
She tossed a carefully selected pile of papers Mrs. Finkel’s way, and one spun into view. A particularly interesting one.
“The Facility,” Mrs. Finkel read aloud, and flipped to the next page. She glanced up. “Well, that’s where they train all the guardians, isn’t it?”
“Among other things,” Lena said tightly. “Anyway, can you do it? I can’t pay much but…I think, um, organization is good? Right?”
“Organization…” Mrs. Finkel repeated.
She stopped again, and Lena knew she had just seen the subheadings: “Splats” and “Breaks.”
The wrinkles around her pale eyes tightened as she read on.
Lena knew exactly what was on that page. A list of numbers which were coded names of guardians to preserve their privacy, and how each incident was dealt with.
“Yes, dear, organization is very good for the soul,” Mrs. Finkel said distractedly. “I’m very glad you brought these to me to, er, type up. Don’t worry about payment, I have nothing else to do.”
“Being a former news reporter, I’m sure you understand this is very sensitive information,” Lena said casually. “I couldn’t, for example, go to a media outlet and mention any of this stuff. That would end badly.”
“Yes, I completely understand how explosive this could be. If…that’s what you want?” Mrs. Finkel asked carefully. “If you’re sure?” She peered at her over her glasses.
“I think it’d be great if there was a frank discussion about certain things, speaking hypothetically, of course. I mean, I’m no reporter. So can you do it?” She waited exactly a beat, then added, “Type up my notes, I mean?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Finkel agreed, delight lighting her eyes. “I believe I can manage that.”
“Great,” Lena said. “Please be thorough. I’d hate for anything to be left out. That would be a shame.” She nudged another notebook Mrs. Finkel’s way. One page was marked—“Slave-like Working Conditions.” Another said, “Sub-Levels of The Facility: Drugging Broken Guardians.”
“Yes, I see that,” Mrs. Finkel said as she scanned the page, her eyes widening. Her head lifted as she added quietly, “You must care very much for the guardians to do this, knowing what will happen.”
Lena grabbed a garish pink cushion and squeezed it. She was not comfortable sharing her views on any of the guardians. Especially one in particular. “I just want my notes typed up,” she said coolly. “That’s all.”
“Of course, dear. Well, I can do that and much more. I have many contacts.”
Lena gave her a direct look. “I like the sound of that.” She gave her scarred arm a distracted rub as Mrs. Finkel began to gather up the mound of n
otes. Her neighbor picked through the pile until she found the first notebook she’d flipped through. It contained Lena’s field notes that she’d written while tracking Beast Lord. It included a simple sketch of him, his three sharp claws of his right arm raised above his head.
Mrs. Finkel paused on that page and held up the illustration right beside Lena’s injured arm. The claws and the wound matched perfectly. Lena cocked her eyebrow and said nothing.
Mrs. Finkel shook her head. “I see you’ve been quite busy. In fact, I think I see a lot of things now.”
“Perhaps you do.”
They shared a look.
“Don’t worry. I never gave up an anonymous source in fifty years of journalism.”
“I’m not a source,” Lena corrected her. “I’m just the woman who needs her notes typed up. What happens beyond that is out of my hands.”
“My mistake,” Mrs. Finkel said, sounding amused. She seemed to have a sudden thought. “Did you have a deadline in mind?”
“Two days’ time would be good.”
Mrs. Finkel nodded slowly. “Two days? Ah. When that commemorative guardian collector’s book is out that the whole world is waiting for? That’s…”
Lena gave her a look.
“Quite a coincidence,” her neighbor finished smoothly.
“Yes, it really is.” Lena sank back into her chair in relief that everything was sorted exactly as she’d planned on her plane trip home, and smiled.
“You know, that look suits you,” Mrs. Finkel said, shuffling the notes into a neat stack.
“What look?”
“I don’t recall ever seeing you so relaxed.”
“I don’t relax,” Lena scoffed.
A withered hand leaned over to pat hers. “The world won’t end if you let go a little. It’s not natural being so controlled all the time. Let your hair down, have some fun, and make some friends. I’m not judging you, dear. It’s just, I’ve been worried. You’ve obviously lived a hard life. I’m saying, it’s time for some changes. Especially with what’s about to happen. Don’t waste the rest of it.”