by R S Penney
Not too far away, Kevin sat in the grass with his knees drawn up against his chest, smiling as he watched the whole thing. “You can do it, Amanda!” he called out. It was obvious he liked her as much as she liked him.
“Kevin, get up here.”
He stood.
This was their third training session, and by now, the young man had learned his role. One thing that spoke well of him: he didn't seem to mind Melissa repeatedly tossing him on his ass as part of a demonstration.
Melissa turned her back on him, standing with fists balled at her sides, head bowed. “It's fairly simple,” she said. “It doesn't matter how big he is. The only thing that counts is how smart you are.”
Kevin seized her in a bear hug.
Melissa squeezed her eyes shut, then slammed the back of her head into his nose. Not hard enough to do damage, but even that small impact would stun him. She flung her arms upward, pulling free.
Kevin gasped.
Crouching down, Melissa drove one elbow into his stomach, just barely making contact. She had no desire to hurt the guy. “He's twice my size,” she said. “But I can still get free if I know what I'm doing.”
Amanda hugged herself, turning so that Melissa couldn't see her expression. “And I'm sure that will help against school bullies,” she said, pacing a line in the grass. “But what am I supposed to do when…”
When her father was the bully?
Turning around, Melissa found Kevin standing a few feet away with his face buried in one hand, massaging his nose. “Sorry,” she murmured, suddenly very embarrassed. “I hope that didn't hurt.”
“Nothing major.”
He let his arm drop, then fixed a bright smile on Amanda. “It's not about being the best brawler on campus,” he said, striding toward her. “It's about looking within yourself and seeing that you're amazing.”
Amanda was blushing, her cheeks stained red as she bowed her head to him. “I'm not that special,” she mumbled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I'm not like you, Melissa. I'm not strong.”
“I disagree.”
The other girl shuddered, crossing her arms and doubling over like a delicate flower bent by a fierce wind. “It's been like this my whole life,” she muttered. “My father says I need to accept my-”
“What your father says is irrelevant.” Some people might have felt anger hearing Amanda talk about herself in that way – and Melissa had to admit, that on an academic level, this kind of thing did piss her off – but what she really felt when she looked at this poor girl was grief. That someone could do something like this to their own child…
What would her life have been like if her father had sliced away at her self-worth with one barbed comment after another, if her father had insisted that she was worth less than all the boys around her. Perhaps she hadn't really appreciated just how good she had it, comparatively speaking. Harry could be overprotective, but he believed in her. How many girls – or boys, for that matter – could say the same?
Amanda looked flustered.
Closing her eyes, Melissa let her head hang and tried to ignore the sticky sweat on her face. “Maybe it's time for a break,” she said softly. “Why don't you guys go and grab something to drink; I'll catch up with you.”
Kevin turned slightly, looking over his shoulder with a wary expression. “You're not going to come with us?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I should check in with my dad.”
As a minor, she had a difficult time traveling by SlipGate without at least one of her parents present. A volunteer ID issued by the Justice Keepers along with written consent by her father had allowed her to come down here and spend some time with Amanda and Kevin. Harry seemed to approve of her desire to help them both, but one of his conditions was that she text him at least once an hour.
Watching the two of them walk side by side, Melissa had to fight the urge to squee. It was clear they really cared for each other. She was sure that Kevin was ready to admit it – everything he did made his affection clear – but Amanda? The girl would need some time. Not to acknowledge her feelings but to give herself permission to explore them.
Hopefully, a little time alone with Kevin would see to that. Bit by bit, Melissa thought to herself. You took the girl apart, old man. But give me enough time, and I will put her back together.
The things I do for the people I love. Right then, Jena should have been prepping for the next session of Anna's hearing. So far, the process had been agonizing with the Manchester cops insisting that one of her agents was essentially a brute who knocked skulls together to get her way. She should have been prepping for the next session, but here she was, granting one of Anna's requests.
The small house had blue aluminum siding and a big front window that looked into a living room with burgundy walls. A wooden porch was lit by a single light that cast a yellow glow.
Dressed in black pants and a red t-shirt with a square neck, Jena climbed the steps with her head down. “I must be nuts,” she muttered. “The girl's gone and made me as naive as she is.”
She banged on the door.
A moment later, it swung inward to reveal a tall woman in a pair of faded jeans and a gray t-shirt: a gorgeous lady with a round face and long blonde hair that fell over her shoulders. “Yes?”
Jena squeezed her eyes shut, hissing in a deep breath. “Clara Randall?” she asked, backing away from the door. “My name is Jena Morane. I'm with the Justice Keepers.”
The woman's eyes widened, and she took a step back as if hoping to find shelter in the safety of her own home. “Is there something that I can do for you?” she spluttered. “I didn't have anything to do with the trouble a couple weeks back.”
“I'm aware of that, ma'am.”
“Then why are you here?”
Leaning against the wooden porch railing with her arms folded, Jena felt her mouth twist into a frown. “I'm here to talk about your niece,” she replied. “Amanda Simmons is your late sister's daughter, correct?”
Clara Randall braced one arm against the door frame and watched Jena with such intensity you might have thought that Jena meant to kill the woman. “Now, why would you be coming to talk about her?”
Jena looked up, blinking at the other woman. “One of my agents interviewed your niece during the search for Kevin Harmon,” she explained. “The girl's behaviour made us think that maybe-”
“My brother-in-law pecks away at her self-esteem until she's nothing but an empty shell of a human being.” A flush painted Clara's face, but she stepped out onto the porch with cold control. “I'm well-aware of the problem, but there's very little I can do.”
“You can testify against him.”
“What good would that do?”
A grimace tugged at the corners of Jena's mouth, and she wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “I've spoken with Child Protective Services,” she said, pushing past her anxiety. This wasn't exactly her area of expertise. Apprehending criminals who tried to shoot her? No problem. But this…“They admit there's cause for concern, but they can't take any action without some kind of evidence.”
Clara strode across the porch, passing Jena and gripping the wooden railing with both hands. “Vic would never hit Amanda,” she said, staring out at the houses across the street. “But he will attack her confidence.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder with a vicious scowl, fine lines visible at the corners of her eyes. “He's one of those traditionalists,” she went on. “He believes that a woman's role is one of obedience.”
Instantly, Jena understood why Anna had been in a lather over this. The girl was always two inches from punching someone whenever she was forced to deal with this planet's outdated gender politics. It didn't produce the same kind of hot rage in Jena. No, her anger was of a colder sort, the kind that made her want to take down assholes like Vic Simmons with one calculated move.
But what should that move be?
“You can't let her stay i
n that environment,” she said insisted. “It could ruin the rest of her life.”
“You think I don't know that?”
“Then do something.”
“Like what?”
Jena spun around to lean over the railing with a heavy sigh. Right now, it felt as if the stress she had been battling for days had become a boulder strapped to her back. “You could give Amanda an alternative.”
Clara stiffened. “You don't get it. I go up against Bill, and he turns the whole damn town against me.”
“But-”
“No,” the woman insisted. “It's not happening, okay? I'd like you to leave now.”
“The situation is clear.”
Lieutenant Biggs stood with his back turned, facing the table where Glin Karon, Tiassa Navram and Kaydie Cadanzar sat side by side. What Anna would have given to see the smug expression on his face. Then again, that would almost certainly lead to her punching him and thereby proving his point.
The officer kept his back straight, his shoulders square, and faced them with the kind of quiet dignity you might expect from a diplomat. “Agent Lenai tossed my men around like rag-dolls. If you want to prove goodwill between our two peoples, you can't let transgressions like this go unpunished.”
With her mouth hanging open, Anna looked up to blink at him. Oh, you have got to be kidding me! she thought, sliding her chair closer to the table. He wants them to offer me up as a sacrificial lamb to prove their goodwill?
At her side, Harry sat stroking his chin and watching the whole thing with concern on his face. “Agent Lenai acted to protect the life of an innocent,” he said. “That is her first and most important duty.”
Biggs turned.
His smug, self-satisfied grin was just repulsive, and to make matters worse, he tipped his cap to Anna. “One might say my that officers have the same duty,” he replied. “And yet you felt justified in attacking them.”
Anna wrinkled her nose in disgust, then shook her head. “I can't win this,” she said, getting out of her chair. “Make whatever snide insinuations you like; it doesn't change the fact that your men were planning to commit murder.”
Biggs moved aside, granting her a view of her three would-be “judges.” Glin Karon sat with his hands folded on the table, patiently watching her with a neutral expression. It seemed that he was the one most likely to support her.
Tiassa slouched in her chair with arms folded, and by this point, it was clear that she was fed up with this whole thing. Most of her comments over the last few days had betrayed her sensibilities. The woman saw Lieutenant Biggs as nothing but a swaggering, self-righteous fool, but she wasn't supportive of Anna either. She seemed to blame Anna for the fact that this mess had landed in her lap, so to speak.
And then there was Kaydie Cadanzar. That one was hunched over the table and watching them like a hawk. Of the three, she was the hardest to read.
Anna approached the trio with her hands clasped behind her back, her head bowed respectfully. “This whole thing has become a circus,” she said. “Make whatever judgment you want, and let's get on with our lives.”
In her mind's eye, she saw Harry doubled over in his chair, “face-palming” as Jack would say. The man wanted her to be a little more tactful. At the moment, tact was simply beyond her.
“Very well,” Glin said.
He stood up with fists clenched at his sides, running his gaze over everyone else. “We have deliberated this in private,” he began. “Our conclusion is that Agent Lenai's intention to protect Kevin Harmon is in line with the mandate of the Justice Keepers. It is our duty to oppose corruption even in those who serve the law.”
Anna felt a swell of pride.
That emotion vanished when Glin let out a sigh of dismay. “However,” he went on, leaning forward with his hands braced on the table. “The fact remains that violence is and should always be a last resort.”
Tiassa looked up at the ceiling, sniffing to show her disdain. “Agent Lenai's actions have damaged relations between our people and the citizens of Earth.” Her mouth twisted with obvious disapproval. “It is our assessment that she could have defused the situation without resorting to such extreme measures.”
“Therefore,” Glin concluded, “she will be suspended from active duty for a period of three Earth weeks, and a formal reprimand will appear in her record.”
The words hit like a punch to the chest.
Anna closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. She sighed into her own palm. “All right then. Now that the jackals have been placated, can we end this farce?”
“This hearing is ended,” Glin said.
On her way out the door, Harry reached for her, and she let him offer a few comforting words. This wasn't his fault, after all, but a part of her wanted to scream at him. People always wanted to comfort you, even when they should just leave well enough alone. If she rebuked his kindness, he would be offended, but it seemed grossly unfair to her that she should have to take care of his feelings on top of everything else.
Ten minutes later, she was wandering the hallways of Station Twelve, lost in her own musings. The station wasn't off limits to her – civilians came up here all the time for one reason or another – only the restricted areas. No shuttle access, no access to any of the weapons' lockers.
What was she supposed to do now? Slink back home and tell her boyfriend the sad news? Would he ever look at her the same way again? It ripped her apart inside, knowing that she had been shamed in this way.
At least Seth was still on her side. She could feel the symbiont's love for her and his support as well. Of course, Seth's perceptions were coloured by her own, but that didn't make it any less comforting.
Anna sighed.
A few years ago, it never would have occurred to her that she might ever have a reprimand on her record, but there it was. She was beginning to understand Jack's point of view. All this time, she had believed that Earth cynicism had distorted how he saw his fellow Keepers, but maybe he was right.
Maybe the senior directors were more interested in politics than they were in doing their damn jobs! It was a scary thought. Shouldn't a Nassai reject anyone who was prone to that kind of thinking?
She went home with a dull ache in her chest.
Chapter 24
Jack watched the SlipGate power up, watched the sinuous grooves that ran from the base of that metal triangle all the way to its pointed tip light up with a fierce white glow. There was a soft, whirring sound, and then a bubble appeared, expanding from a single point to something large enough to hold a dozen people.
Inside, a blurry figure stood with her head down. The light that passed through the surface of the bubble was refracted, making it difficult to determine who was inside, and Jack couldn't rely on spatial awareness either. His Keeper senses detected nothing but a big spherical gap in the fabric of reality.
The bubble was a pocket of folded space-time that had been translated from one point to another through SlipSpace. Matter could not pass through the barrier; that was why travelers did not have to fear that the oxygen that traveled with them might disperse.
The bubble popped.
Aamani Patel stood before him in a blue pants suit, her eyes downcast as through she found something fascinating in the floor tiles. “I must admit, you've left me intrigued, Hunter,” she said. “Why did you call me here?”
Jack smiled, a flush burning his cheeks. “Well,” he began. “You seem to think that you can't trust me, Aamani. By the time we've finished, I hope you'll feel differently.”
“What did you have in mind?”
He powered down the gate.
Jack stepped out from behind the console, approaching her with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I figure you could fall backwards, and I'll catch you,” he said with a shrug. “Sixty-six percent of the time, it goes off without a hitch.”
She snorted.
“Come on,” Jack said. “You wanted a look at the ugly, vei
ny slab of flesh that Wes left on the floor. Well, I'm inclined to indulge you.”
A thin sheet of skin slightly larger than Jack's palm was suspended from hooks on a metal bar, the veins pulsing as if the thing was still alive. Which it was. Exactly how that was possible remained a mystery. Professor Nareo seemed to think that the lack of direct sunlight had caused the object to slow its metabolic rate by several orders of magnitude.
The man stood a few feet from the table with his shoulders slumped, frowning intently at the device. “It's been like this for days,” he began. “We've made some small progress in scanning some of its memory, but…”
Clasping his chin in one hand, Jack squinted at the thing. “Do you think it might react with the device Wesley left in the warehouse?” he asked. “Is it wise to keep them both in the same room?”
The professor heaved out a sigh, his head drooping as if he could barely fight off his own exhaustion. “I've been over this with Director Morane,” he muttered. “So far, we have seen no sign that they will interact.”
Jack turned.
Aamani Patel stood side by side with Raynar, and both had adopted the exact same posture: hands pressed to their sides, heads held high with smooth expressions. Jack had noticed that the young man did that sometimes, subconsciously mirroring other people. From what he had read, it was an instinct found in most humans, the urge to mimic each other's body language. It stood to reason that instinct would be even more pronounced in a telepath.
Aamani closed her eyes, sighing softly as she strode forward. “This is the weapon that Lenai recovered from the young man in Tennessee?” Every syllable betrayed a keen fascination with the object. “Could its power be harnessed for any useful purpose?”
Jack winced, tossing his head about like a dog trying to shake off water. “Not from what we've seen,” he answered. “The device triggers a fight or flight response in anyone who tries to use it.”