Letting some heat back into her voice, Kit continued. “As for Next in general, my opinion is that you have reason to be afraid, but also that you and many others have let fear override your common sense.”
“How so?” Senator Lee asked in a dangerous tone.
“By making the same mistakes people have since the dawn of civilization,” Kit said. “You lump all of us together for what we are, and forget to look at who we are. You know the statistics. One in a thousand people in the world are Next. In America, that's more than three hundred thousand people. That's an army capable of leveling every city from coast to coast in a matter of days. Yet nothing like that has happened. The majority of us live our lives like everyone else. A lot of Next even use their powers to serve their communities. Should we worry about another Fairmont? Absolutely. It would be stupid and naïve to think that some insanely powerful person out there won't cause another disaster. But it's irresponsible to treat us all like rabid dogs, in no small part because history shows exactly what happens to minorities when they've had enough of the boot on their throat.”
That certainly made an impression. All five people behind the bench flinched, even unflappable Kirby. Their reactions varied from rage to horror, there and gone again in a blink, but for Kit that second lasted a long time
“You're on dangerous ground,” Senator Ditko said.
Kit snorted, shaking her head. “Do you really think I'm stupid enough to come in here and make threats, senator? If I had any ill intentions, I wouldn't tell you about them. Honestly, the fact that the public attitude toward Congress has never been more negative combined with the reality that no Next have decided to do anything about it should tell you just how dangerous we are. My own abilities are low on the scale compared to a Black Band, but even I could do a tremendous amount of damage to a room full of powerless people.”
The tension in the room could have stopped bullets, but Kit pushed on. In for a penny and all that.
“I'll tell you why you want me to stay where I am,” she said. “It's really simple. I can do what you can't. I can be the person in charge of catching rogue Next without alienating the entire community. I'm the one who can make the hard calls and live with them. I can enforce the law without being seen as the enemy, because I treat Next like people while still recognizing how dangerous we can be.”
Something like approval seemed to flicker across Kirby's face, but even pushing her perception of time to its limit, Kit thought she might have imagined it. “Are you done?” he asked.
Kit nodded.
“We're not in the habit of being berated,” Kirby said, an eyebrow raising slightly. “That said, you've made points everyone here has discussed at length more than once. Public sentiment is a powerful—and dangerous—force. Walking the line between being firm with Next criminals and trying not to be seen as oppressors is never easy. When Secretary Robinson told us he was appointing you, we agreed that someone with your experience would be the right fit. You weren't law enforcement, which wasn't ideal, but your practical experience dealing with Next more than made up for it.”
Kirby's voice hardened, his expression tight. “However, it's because of the delicate state of public opinion that we have to be sure there are no blank spots regarding Thomas Maggard's death. That includes determining whether you acted out of true necessity or because it happened to be an easy choice. I doubt you're aware, but we have had a handful of Helix agents lose their grip on reality over the last several years. The stress of the work can take its toll.”
Kit's eyebrows drew down. “I didn't know,” she said. “Anyone I know?”
Kirby waved away the question. “Not important. I mentioned it to give you context. You need to understand the sort of scrutiny you will always be under. More, now that Secretary Robinson has made you his shadow. You're being entrusted with secrets known by very, very few people.”
The threat implied in those words was clear, but Kit never got to find out what would follow.
The door of the small room opened fast enough to bang against the wall. Kit and Robinson turned in unison to find Wes Christjansen approaching. He leaned down between Kit and Robinson and spoke in a low but urgent voice.
“Archer has a possible Blue Box situation,” he said.
Robinson's eyes flashed at Kit as the gravity in the room seemed to vanish. The old man took stock, then cursed under his breath. “Wes, take Kitra to the scene directly. No, wait. One minute.”
Robinson faced the bench. “We've got a situation that can't wait,” he said to them. “Director Singh needs to be there now. What's your vote?”
Vote? Kit tried not to let her bewilderment show, but it wasn't easy.
“Mr. Secretary, this shouldn't be rushed,” Senator Lee began, but Robinson cut him off with a raised hand.
“No, sir, it shouldn't be. But as you know, Director Singh is experienced in tackling extremely difficult problems, and this is a Code One situation. She needs to be there now. So what is your vote?”
Speaker Kirby blanched. “Code One? Damn it. Fine, Robinson. We'll vote. All in favor?”
All five raised their hands. Whatever it was, it was unanimous.
“Sir,” Kit said to Robinson. “Why do you look so relieved?”
“Because you've just been confirmed as my backup,” Robinson said. Without pausing, he barked orders to Christjansen. “Take her to the scene and stay there. I'll be ready to leave here in an hour. Until then, you're to help her in any way she needs.”
Kit was trying to process a lot of information, but even her enhanced brain was overwhelmed. When the teleportation happened, Kit barely noticed.
Ray
In an astoundingly short span of time the scene around the body changed. Rapid phone calls were exchanged with several federal agencies, all by Archer and ending with an establishment of jurisdiction by the OSA. Ray watched and listened, taking in the efficient transformation of the scene from simple body dump to potential ground zero.
All nonessential personnel were asked to leave, though Archer asked Ray to remain. In short order there were only a handful of people inside the enclosure, and no one within a hundred yards who wasn't under Archer's command.
Dr. Nunez, head of research and development and the smartest human being to ever live, had taken command of the crime scene technicians. Ray had never heard of Nunez doing field work, but given the circumstances, he wasn't terribly surprised.
Ray was standing near the door when a flash of bright light flared through it from the outside. The flaps parted seconds later as Kit and Christjansen entered. She glanced around the enclosure before spotting Ray, who waved her over.
“What's the situation?” she asked, her eyes taking in the handful of bodies working a short distance away. Archer was still engrossed in a phone call.
Ray nodded toward the body, now surrounded by half a dozen pieces of equipment. “Nunez is doing a bunch of tests, but the early evidence points to the dead guy having been moved through time.”
Kit swore. “Blue Box is the code for it,” she said. “I had to do some training about how dangerous time travel is supposed to be, and I had to sign a mountain of non-disclosure papers about it. Damn.”
Ray ran a hand through his hair. “So this is for real? There are Next out there who can time travel?”
Kit pursed her lips. “Yeah, but as far as I know it's only happened once.”
“Once? Why is there an entire protocol in place for it, then?”
“Because the result was the 2004 tsunami. The one that killed several hundred thousand people,” Kit answered grimly.
Ray gaped in horror. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” Kit said. “The really scary thing is that no one knows who did it. The leading theory is that time travel isn't something Next can really do, but is actually a by-product of teleportation gone wrong or some other malfunction. Since it's so destructive, logic says it doesn't happen often.”
“You are quite right, Director Singh,” sai
d a smooth voice.
Ray jumped. He had been so intent on listening to Kit that he hadn't heard the doctor move in behind him.
“Fortunately,” Nunez continued, politely ignoring Ray's reaction, “this does not appear to be a case of time travel, merely bad teleportation.”
Ray's eyebrows drew down. “But the evidence...”
“Was not what it appeared to be,” Nunez said. “An easy mistake to make given the circumstances, and one we should be thankful for.”
“What evidence?” Kit asked.
Nunez waved a hand at Ray. “I should get back to work, actually.”
Kit turned her attention back to Ray. “What evidence?” she repeated.
He pointed at the branch sticking out of the skull. “That was the first red flag. Most teleporters essentially open a gateway between two places. That stick is fused through the skull, though, as if the body had been broken down into energy and reformed.”
Kit nodded in understanding. “That's what happened with the earthquake that caused the tsunami. Somehow a huge chunk of foreign matter materialized right inside the weak spot in the crust, which set off the quake.”
Ray shrugged. “The other thing was that the body looks like it's been in the ground for a long time since most of the flesh is gone, but we found a smart phone in his hand that only came out four days ago. Oh, and the weird patterns of Surge energy I saw are apparently some kind of marker for teleportation and time travel. Nunez said matter that has been dematerialized always has predictable readings.”
He had listened to the techs chatter to each other as they studied the readings on their scanners. It was amazing how much you could learn by simple observation, so long as you kept quiet and listened.
“Do we have any idea whether this was intentional or not?” Kit asked.
Before Ray could form a response, Archer's voice cut across the makeshift room.
“The bad news is, this looks like a murder,” he said. The room fell silent except for the gentle hum and low beeps of busy machines. “The good news is that we already have a suspect.”
Half an hour later, Ray sprawled on the couch in Kit's office with a company laptop nestled beside him. While Archer remained at the site to oversee the removal of the body and every molecule of dirt touched by it, Ray had ridden back with Kit to get a head start on researching their suspect. Kit had given him use of her laptop while she darted off to shower, and Ray found himself fascinated by the hastily-gathered dossier.
The suspect's name was James Shane, though the idea of him merely being a suspect was deceptive. According to Nunez even the very small number of Next capable of teleportation had proved enough of a population for serious study of their abilities, and every one of them was different. The strangely geometric nature of the residual energy Ray had seen was like a fingerprint, every pattern unique to the Next who had done the teleportation. While the scanners used at the scene didn't interpret the pattern visually as Ray did, they were able to distinguish properties specific to records which matched James Shane.
Ray's interest didn't lie with how efficiently the analysts in Ops had put the file together—though they had done so in minutes—but instead with how unlikely a suspect Shane appeared to be at first glance. The man had only been registered with the OSA for two months, had no criminal record, and was apparently an artist of some note. A summary of his public online activity, complete with screen shots of conversations on social media, painted a very clear picture.
He was a nice guy. Then again, Ray had been much the same before his powers erupted in Fairmont.
The major difference was that Ray's powers had to be tightly controlled, while James Shane, like all other teleporters, had to focus to make his work. Which meant the location of the body and its partial dissolution was at least partly intentional. It was possible Shane had teleported the man beneath the ground on accident, causing his death by the accidental collision of two separate forms of matter trying to occupy the same space, but Ray had his doubts.
He heard Kit walking down the tight spiral stairs leading up to the small sleeping quarters and bathroom attached to her office.
“Anything new?” she asked as she entered the room, toweling her short hair as she walked.
“Let me check,” Ray said, backing out of the document and refreshing the file. “Looks like it,” he said, glancing at the new icons in the folder. “More background information, looks like some more recent stuff from the locals.” He opened that one, another summary report compiled from multiple sources.
Ray read through it quickly. It was ten pages, but much of that was reference material. Photos, documents, citations, and links to outside sources.
“Shit,” Ray said when he was finished. “You definitely need to read this.”
“That bad?” Kit asked.
“Yep,” he said. “Looks like our dead guy and James Shane had some pretty serious beef.”
“In what way?” Kit asked as she made her way to the couch.
Ray frowned. “The wallet we found with the body identified him as Robert Lile. The report here says James Shane moved back to Kentucky three weeks ago to help take care of his sister, who had been assaulted by three men at a party.”
Kit plopped onto the couch, shaking the whole thing. Ray smiled; he sometimes forgot that Kit outweighed him by a fair margin even though she was tiny and slim.
“Sexual assault?” Kit asked as she reached for the computer.
“Not according to the charges she filed,” Ray said, a sour feeling growing in his stomach. “But the pictures are pretty conclusive that she was at least attacked.”
He watched Kit as she scanned the files one after another. It took her far less time, and Ray wondered whether Kit realized how quickly she was changing. Their friendship was still nascent, a handful of months old, but even in that short time Ray could see the acceleration in Kit's powers. Four months ago she would have needed twice as long to read through all those documents, something he had seen firsthand many times as he sat in this very spot while they worked together.
If he were to put money on it, Ray would have guessed she knew even if she never talked about it. There were other signs, both obvious and subtle. Increases in strength were easy to spot if you knew to look for them. Noting the less and less frequent appearance of any sort of fatigue was harder, but Ray had caught that, too.
“Well,” Kit said after finishing the file, “at least Shane did the right thing and notified us when he moved here. It'll make our job a little easier.”
“I can understand where he's coming from,” Ray said. “His sister gets hurt so bad she needs help taking care of herself, and the guys who did it get out on bail.” Low anger boiled in the back of his head, but like his powers he kept a firm leash on it.
“I don't like it either,” Kit said with a sigh. “We don't have much of a choice, here. James Shane might not have meant to kill Robert Lile, but he had motive and we know his powers were involved. We have to err on the side of caution, even if it means protecting these assholes.”
Ray's mood darkened at the thought. “Just because it's the law doesn't mean it's right,” he muttered.
Kit's mouth drew into a disapproving line. “Innocent until proven guilty.”
“Funny,” Ray said as he stood to leave the room. “I never got a trial for Fairmont.”
He took a moment to catch the rare appearance of surprise on her face before leaving, letting the door swing shut silently behind.
Kit
Being in charge was a sword with many edges. Kit's natural instinct was to micromanage, though she didn't see it as such. She wanted to be out in the field going after James Shane. Had the man been a bigger threat, she would have. As it was, Shane was only likely to go after the men accused of brutalizing his sister. He wasn't much of a threat beyond that.
Being stuck at the facility meant she didn't have to personally safeguard the men who had, according to the excellent police work done by the Louisville
department, almost without a doubt beat a young woman unconscious, breaking several bones in the process.
Ray's words the night before struck a chord in her, a deep sense of unease she had long suppressed. With Helix she had operated in a morally clear but legally murky area. Going after terrorist cells backed with reams of data proving the guilt of her targets was the right thing to do, even if using Next to do it required exploiting several loopholes in international law.
Ray was right, to a degree. Since taking over as one of the two facility directors she had been forced to reevaluate her views on how the law dealt with the Next, and why. One of the larger drivers for that introspection was also her ten o'clock appointment.
Right on cue, he knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Kit said.
John Franklin entered the office. Just shy of sixteen, Kit wasn't sure the kid hadn't grown an inch since last week's appointment. She checked that thought and gave it another pass through her brain. Given the wide variety of Next powers and physiology, it was possible he had grown an inch in a handful of days.
Lean and getting broad in the shoulders, John was beginning to look less like a rough sketch of his father and more like a finished product. The anger Kit had been working mightily to temper and shape was nowhere to be seen; that was good. John had spent the first two months worth of meetings furious at the outset. Given what the boy had lived through recently, she couldn't blame him.
But someone with his power couldn't walk around with a chip on his shoulder, no matter how well-deserved it might be. That, too, factored into Kit's evaluation of the Next as a group. People who could bend space-time or punch through a brick wall had to be held to a higher standard. Practicality—and the base fear of normal humans, historically known for raising pitchforks when needed—demanded it.
“Good morning,” John said with a slight smile, his voice light.
Kit cocked her head at him slightly. “You're in a good mood,” she noted. “I'm guessing it's a girl.”
The Next Chronicle (Book 2): Damage Page 6