by Haber, Karen
“Victor?”
He ignored her.
“Victor, what happened to them?”
“Not now.”
“Victor—”
“Dammit, I said not now!” He whirled, eyes blazing. “I’m trying to protect us from your so-called friends. Stop distracting me.”
She jumped to her feet. “So Skerry was here!”
“Yes, and he’ll be back, I’m sure.”
“Good.”
“You’re a fool, Narlydda.” Ashman was almost sneering in his anger. “I got a quick look at this rescuer of yours—he’s an irresponsible renegade. Not exactly the kind of man who will stay in one place. Or with one woman.”
“Go to hell,” she snapped. “You’re just jealous. Did I say that I wanted a man to stay with me? The reason I like Skerry is because he’s unpredictable. Untamable. And terrific in bed.” Her fear of Ashman was gone. She was angry, heedless of what she said.
Ashman reacted with all the rage she’d hoped for. Cursing, he smashed a storage unit into splinters with a rasping telekinetic bolt. “You’re an idiot,” he said. “You don’t know what I’m offering you.”
“You’re offering me obliteration,” she said. “Only you think it’s intimacy.” She ducked as a serving mech sailed toward her and over her head to lodge in the far wall dividing the domerooms. “And if you want to play rough, you’ve certainly equipped me to be your playmate.”
As she spoke, Narlydda pulled a storage cabinet free from its housings behind Ashman and tipped it over onto the supermutant. While he was disentangling himself, she hurried into the next room, looking for a hiding place.
The bed, she thought. Get behind it. She used her new telekinetic power to pull the white acrylic headboard away from the wall and hollow out a space in it that just fit her. Gratefully, she crawled in and moved the bed back in place.
Skerry, get back here soon, she thought. I can’t stall him or hide forever, and I’d prefer a ride home to floating back all alone.
Heyran Landon paced irritably before the screen in his office. He was beginning to wish he’d taken a job with the Navy. He liked the ocean. All that peaceful blue water. And the only things you had to worry about were colliding with another ship, shearing off a drilling platform, or drowning. Much easier than dealing with zero-g and vacuum environments. And much more appealing than rescuing rich socialites whose private shuttles had malfunctioned.
“I understand, General Cadston,” he said, addressing the screen. “Mrs. Emory’s shuttle has been docked at the orbital factory for hours, emitting a distress signal.”
“Somebody’s probably just leaning on the wrong switch,” the Brigadier said, smiling his famous smile. “But since it’s Tavia Emory’s shuttle, we have to check it out.”
Halfheartedly, Landon returned the smile. The last thing he wanted to do was rush out and jump-start a society matron’s shuttle. Even if she was a bridge partner for Cadston. “Sir, have you tried to raise them by radio?”
The Cadston smile faded. “Of course. No luck.”
“Odd. Have there been any reports from the factory?”
“Negative. And why should there be? That place is completely automated.”
“No external screens? We could at least get a look at the shuttle before scrambling a flight.”
Cadston nodded. “A Korean news satellite went past it about half an hour ago. No external signs of trouble, although there were some funny things on that factory the brass wants explained. And I want you to go, Heyran. ASAP.”
“Yessir.”
The screen went dark.
Who was available to scramble for a quick rescue? McLeod was on leave—he could recall her, but that would take too long. Well, there was Ethan Hawkins. He could borrow him from the Brinford until Kelly returned. A two-man mini would take them up quickly. Be back by dinnertime, if they were lucky.
CHAPTER TWENTY
.
Michael rose from the cushions beside his mother and left her sitting in silent meditation by his father’s bed. Jimmy was slumped in a chair nearby, eyes closed, weary with grief.
I feel so strange, Michael thought. I should be sad, or guilty, or something, but instead, I just feel relieved. And free.
He looked at the still face of his father. James Ryton had slipped quietly into death. How peaceful, Michael thought. Like a pale statue. Nothing to indicate that he’d spent his life like a clenched fist ready to punch out in anger at the rest of the world.
He stared at him a moment longer.
Goodbye, Dad.
Jena was sitting by the door on a pile of beige cushions. The color seemed washed out of her. Even her electric blue silk tunic was oddly subdued. As he walked past, she mindspoke him.
I’ve sent for Herra. Rebekah Terling is willing to officiate at the burial, but Chemen Astori has offered to fly out if you wish.
Michael nodded. “Let mother decide. I want to try and find Melanie.”
And will you please get rid of Captain McLeod! I think I’ve been patient and understanding, but really, Michael—
He cut her off. “I’ll take care of it.”
Jena flashed him a furious look but said nothing more.
At his nod, Kelly stood up, shot the cuffs of her purple uniform, and followed him out into the hall. The filtered sunlight warmed the blue hospital tile. Together, they walked in silence. Michael had a sudden urge to put his arm around her, even here, in this private, mutant place.
Without another thought, he took Kelly’s hand. She looked at him with surprise. Then she smiled.
“I assume you’ve been instructed to banish me?” she said.
“Of course. Do you want to go?”
She reached over to gently straighten his tie and her hand lingered on his shirtfront. “Only if I can’t help you further.”
“Don’t you have to be back at Armstrong?”
“Not for another seventy-two hours.” She met his gaze, held it.
“Then I’d like you to attend my father’s funeral.” He fought the temptation to pull her closer. To kiss her, there, in the hallway of Dream Haven. “It would mean a lot to me.”
Kelly’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “Won’t your clan be shocked? Sounds like you’re asking for trouble.”
“Who cares? I don’t have to worry about offending my father anymore. And you know how my mother feels.”
“Well, I’d like to show respect,” she said. “But I don’t want to make trouble. I know how hard this is for your mother. For you and Jimmy.”
“Less painful because you’re here,” he said, and gave her hand a squeeze.
“What about your wife?”
Michael shrugged. “She’s furious that you’re here, of course.”
“I don’t really blame her,” Kelly said. “Especially after our hissing match in the commissary. I almost left then. But your mother stopped me.”
“Mom did? Good. I knew she liked you.”
Kelly smiled gently. The late afternoon sun slanted in through the clerestory windows, haloing her dark hair. “Michael, I think the best thing I can do is stay out of the way until the funeral. There’s an inn in Mendocino I know, and I’m sure …”
She broke off, distracted by something behind him.
Michael looked over his shoulder. Two men, nonmutants, wearing identical dark gray suits, approached him.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ryton?” the shorter one said. He had a resonant tenor voice.
“Yes?”
He smiled and held out a holo card which read EDWARD GREEN, FEDERAL MARSHAL in bronzed three-dimensional letters.
“You are in contempt of Congress,” Edward Green said in the same pleasant tone. “Please come with us.”
The factory was silent, all activity stilled. The sound of Melanie’s footsteps on the metal catwalk echoed loudly and set her nerves jumping.
Ashman is waiting for us in there, she thought. He’s like a spider anticipating the tug on his web. One little tweak a
nd he’ll come scuttling …
Hey, ease up on the melodrama, will you?
Skerry’s mindspeech crackled with tension.
Melanie nodded. For the tenth time, she felt the laser pistol in her pocket. Flanked by her tall cousin on one side and Yosh on the other, she walked toward the main domerooms. Was Narlydda in there? Was she all right? Could Skerry tell?
Melanie, please, chant or something. At such close range, you’re driving me crazy. And yes, I know. You’re sorry.
Yosh glanced at them as though he was aware of some hidden communication taking place. But he glanced away again at the sudden sound of humming. With an eerie screech of metal, the factory had jolted back to life.
They walked past mechs churning and distilling the liquid ceramic. The creamy mixture glittered in its extrusion tubes as the light caught trace elements of mica and selenium. It was almost pretty, Melanie thought.
At the entrance to the domerooms, Skerry paused and looked around cautiously.
He must be casting an esper probe, Melanie thought. She watched as her cousin listened carefully then shook his head. No luck. She didn’t know whether that meant Ashman was blocking him, or that there was nobody alive beyond those gray metal doors.
Ready, folks?
They exchanged glances. Melanie and Yosh both pulled their laser guns out. Slowly, they nodded. Skerry pushed the doors open.
The domeroom was half-lit by pink spotlights. The cold white stars twinkled beyond the safety of the transparent dome walls. Even in the dim light, Melanie could see that the room was a mess. A major struggle had taken place here. Between whom?
Skerry drew his breath in sharply. Melanie followed his glance and saw a figure sitting propped up against a mech storage unit. Narlydda! Was she hurt?
As they approached her, Narlydda lifted her head, jerkily, as though it were being pulled by strings. Her eyes remained closed.
“I’m sorry,” she said tonelessly, mouth working hard to form each word. “It’s a trap. You should have gone home.”
“Lydda!” Skerry reached for her.
A crackle of mental energy and a flash of blue light sent him flying through the air and into the far wall. Skerry sat where he’d fallen for a moment, heavily stunned. Then, shaking his head as though to clear it, he got to his feet.
“Ashman? I know you’re here. You’ll have to do better than that. Esper bolts are child’s play.”
For answer, a second bolt of mental lightning sizzled through the air, knocking him to his knees. He stayed there, tottering.
Melanie swung her head from left to right: she could only see the four of them. She scanned the room again. The supermutant was nowhere to be seen.
Why did you come back? I let you go. Why make me kill you?
Ashman’s mindspeech was loud, with strange echoes that distorted it from tenor to soprano and back again.
“You don’t really want to kill us, do you?” Melanie said gently. “In fact, you’d rather be friends, wouldn’t you?”
Don’t be ridiculous. I’d just rather not have to make the effort it takes to dispense with you.
Come on, Skerry, she thought. Get up!
But her cousin was still on his knees, groaning. Got to stall, she thought. She looked at Yosh in desperation.
“Uh, Ashman, you know I’ve always liked you,” Yosh said. “Why don’t you show yourself? I’d like to talk to you about some ideas I have for the Moonstation statue—”
Stop improvising, musician. We were never friends. And now you’re beginning to annoy me. Since you won’t go back I must make you go away. The telepath, first.
Skerry began choking as though the air was being pulled from his lungs. He collapsed onto his back, his hands clawing at his windpipe.
“Stop it! Ashman, don’t kill him!” Melanie cried. A telekinetic wind came out of nowhere, the exhalation of some strange beast, and blew her head over heels across the room. The stars careened crazily before her eyes. She lost her grip on the laser pistol, and it went clattering across the floor.
“Melanie!”
Yosh moved toward her, but he too was suddenly forced sharply back against the wall, blown by an unseen hurricane. He hit hard, slid down to a sitting position, and stayed there, eyes closed, stunned.
“Victor, please,” Narlydda said in the same flat tone as before.
Skerry struggled harder for breath. His face was bright red and veins bulged at his temples.
No, Melanie thought. No. No. No. She clambered toward the laser pistol. Behind her, there was a strange clicking sound. She whirled.
Ashman was slowly materializing in a cloud of silver smoke. He looked astonished, as though the effect were not of his choosing.
The radio in the wallscreen crackled to life.
“Emory Fac-2, this is shuttle Anorik. Repeat, shuttle Anorik responding to distress call from private shuttle. Please respond if you are able.”
With a cry of anger, Ashman blasted the wallscreen to silence. Beyond the dome wall a government minishuttle could be seen orbiting the factory.
Distress call? Narlydda, did you do this?
She nodded, and her eyes opened, although they seemed focused on places far distant.
Now I’ve got to get rid of them, too.
“No!” Melanie said. “Ashman, please—”
He stared intently out the dome wall. Melanie could see the port engine of the minishuttle begin to glow bright red. Another moment and it would explode.
“Ashman, wait.”
Something in her voice made him turn to look at her.
His eyes were peculiar. What was it? Their silvery glow seemed tarnished. Fading. In its place, the familiar golden glow of mutancy sparkled with new-minted glitter.
“Your eyes,” Melanie gasped.
Ashman covered his face and turned away.
Skerry stopped choking and sat up. Without a moment’s hesitation he sent a huge bolt of shimmering mental energy whistling toward the supermutant.
Ashman deflected it.
Skerry threw another.
Ashman caught it and bounced it back at him. It enveloped Skerry in a sparkling feedback field, draining his psychic strength. He gasped, twitching helplessly, caught in his own esper net.
Melanie watched in horror. Even with his strength reduced, Ashman was more than a match for them. He would kill her and Yosh. Skerry and Narlydda and the shuttle crew. And then what would he do to everybody else? Her family? Her friends? The only things in this world that she had ever really cared about? No. No.
Hands trembling, she raised the laser pistol. Ashman saw her and smiled derisively.
Do you really think that little toy can hurt me?
“No,” Melanie said. “Not really.” She aimed. “Goodbye.”
Fired.
The laser shattered the dome wall just behind Ashman.
No!
His mindspeech was a scream of terror.
The cold vacuum of space reached in through the jagged hole and seized the supermutant. He struggled desperately, clinging to the walls with such telekinetic fervor that the room began to deform. But the struggle was not one of equals. Space was stronger.
Spread-eagled, Ashman gripped the edges of the dome wall, oblivious to the blood trickling down his arms from wounds inflicted as he grasped at the jagged shards of acrylic. The cuffs of his blue flight suit turned purple, then crimson. He looked back over his shoulder, away from the void, toward Narlydda.
Help me!
Eyes tightly shut, the green woman shook her head.
And with a sigh, he was gone, sucked out of the dome into the cold lonely starlight. In a moment, his body had spun out of sight, beyond the factory’s orbit.
In his wake, the room’s atmosphere whistled past toward the freedom of space. Melanie felt herself floating upward and around toward the hole in the dome where the stars awaited her.
I’m dying, she thought. But at least I’ve taken Ashman along with me.
It
felt easier and softer than she’d expected. Like falling into a snowbank. It was cool, not freezing. And somehow, she could still breathe.
Is this what death is like?
I hope not.
The mindspeech had a gentle, unfamiliar ring to it. It didn’t sound like Skerry.
No, Melanie. It’s Narlydda. Don’t move. I can’t maintain this stasis field with atmosphere if you move around.
Melanie floated a moment more, then settled to the floor. But what about Yosh? And Skerry? Where were they? Why can’t I see anything but this pale blue cloud? Melanie felt blind and wildly frustrated by her own lack of telepathic skill.
Don’t worry. I can hear you. But calm down, please. You’re pulling a lot of energy from me. I think Yosh is all right. I don’t know if you saved Skerry. I can’t hear him. I should be able to, but I can’t.
Melanie could feel the grief in her words. Skerry, dead? No. She couldn’t believe that her renegade cousin had been killed, even by someone as powerful as Ashman.
Well, I’m glad somebody has faith in me.
Skerry!
Nice going, Lydda. I didn’t figure you for such feats of telekinetic strength. And since when could you mindspeak?
I—I don’t know. Maybe that potion Ashman gave me. I can’t understand why he didn’t save himself.
Too startled, probably. Nice shooting, Mel. Yosh is definitely impressed. And as soon as we get out of here, he’ll tell you all about that—and other things—himself.
Yosh. Good. Melanie leaned back, relieved. If Yosh was all right, that was all that mattered. But now what should they do?
I hear the Anorik docking. Must have seen the explosion. They should be able to get us into pressure suits and back on our own shuttle. Lydda, can you hold this field for another fifteen minutes?
I don’t know, Skerry. I’ll try.
Give it your best shot, babe. I’m looking forward to holding hands again.
Me too, Skerry. Me too.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
.
The sleek yellow taxi sped past the towering gray eucalyptus grove that marked the entrance to the Dream Haven cemetery. Engine whirring, it pulled into the parking area and stopped. Michael climbed out.
A group of mourners clad in somber tones was already assembled around the gravesite. He could pick out his mother, his brother, and even gray-haired Rebekah Terling dressed in the purple robes. But who was that standing to one side—the muscular man with long hair caught back in a ponytail? Skerry? And a tall, angular woman stood with him, holding his hand. Her skin was a strange, silvery-green hue. Next to them was a Japanese nonmutant with his arm around a young, dark-haired woman. Was that Melanie?