by Karen Haber
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3
Rick’s enthusiasm had soared with every word Hawkins uttered. Go to space! Support the development of space technology! Yes, yes, yes. It was what he’d always felt in his bones but had never really managed to articulate. When Guindelle called a recess, Rick jumped up to join the group surrounding the charismatic black man. Sign up for space? Sure he would. And imagine his aunt Kelly’s face—she had tried to interest him in the Shuttle Corps years ago. But this was different. This was, well, right. Somehow he just knew it. Space was where he belonged. Helping Ethan Hawkins summon the future.
Hawkins smiled broadly at Rick. “Well, young man. I see I’ve caught your interest.”
“Uh, yes, I mean, I think what you just said made a lot of sense. Besides, space has always fascinated me.”
“Glad to hear it,” Hawkins said. “Your name is Rick, isn’t it?”
“Rick Akimura.”
“Of course. Rick, I’d be gratified if you’d come visit me.” Hawkins handed him a holocard. “I have a satellite parked in orbit, and I’d be happy to arrange transport, accommodations, and so forth.”
“Great!” Rick smiled. He could see it now: sitting with Hawkins aboard his satellite, discussing the fine points of vacuum welding as the Earth rolled by in the distance.
Tomas Carpenter strolled over to Hawkins. A smile bright with malice split his round face and he gave Rick a quick, sidelong look.
“So, Colonel,” he said, “you’re interested in nulls as well as regular functional mutants?”
“Pardon?” Hawkins looked confused.
“Null,” Carpenter repeated. “Dysfunctional. He doesn’t have any mutant ability. The only welding he could do would be with a laser torch.”
“I don’t believe I was speaking with you,” Hawkins said icily. Carpenter gave him a startled look and backed away into the crowd.
Hawkins turned to Rick. “Forgive the intrusion,” he said. “And please get in touch. Regardless of ability, we need everyone.” The heartiness in his voice sounded forced. Rick moved away before Hawkins could see his disappointment.
Julian came up to him, drink in hand.
“Since when are you so hot for space, Rick?”
“Leave me alone.”
Julian touched him on the shoulder. “Something wrong?”
“I said leave me alone, dammit!” Rick pivoted and headed for the door. He wasn’t thinking of the future now. What he wanted was some fresh air. Maybe the fresh air of Portland. He could get there in five hours …
“Are you leaving already?” said a lilting female voice.
Rick stopped dead in his tracks.
Alanna. She stood next to him, smiling an inviting smile. Her wild, dark hair fell around her lace in waves and down her back. Her skin was ice-green, and her eyes glittered brightly.
“Yes, I was thinking of taking a walk,” he said, and smiled his pirate smile at her. “You’re Alanna, aren’t you?”
She gave him a bold, flirtatious look. “Want some company on your walk?”
He shrugged. “Sure. But won’t your family mind if you’re not here for the business meeting?”
He expected her to fold then, to giggle, blush, and run back to her father. Instead, she met his eyes fearlessly.
“They’ll get over it. Unless you’d like me to ask them along?”
“No, thanks.”
“Well, then?”
Rick hesitated. “Wouldn’t you prefer to go for a walk with some multitalented mutant guy?”
“If I did, I’d ask one. I’m not interested in party tricks, Rick.”
“Good.” He held the door open for her. He had just a moment to catch his brother Julian’s eye and see the chagrined admiration on his face. Then Rick swept out into the starlit night after his cousin.
The stars sent their cold light spilling down upon the path leading away from the meeting hall. It was a moonless night, his favorite kind, and walking in the aromatic woods with a beautiful woman was one of his favorite activities.
“Smell the eucalyptus,” Alanna said happily. “They always smell so pure to me. As though their scent sweeps the air clean.”
“They always remind me of winter,” Rick said. “And sore throats.” He laughed. “That’s not very poetic, is it?”
“No. But it’s real.”
“I suppose so. But didn’t I hear something about you being a poet?” He nodded. “My father said your mother had suggested that you write some lyrics for one of his compositions.”
“My mother!” Alanna’s tone was explosive. “Of course she suggested it. She’d manage my entire life if I let her. She arranged for me to attend the Whitlock program at Radcliffe in the fall. Pulled all sorts of strings. Then she remembered to ask me if I wanted to go.”
“That doesn’t sound like a killing offense to me.”
“Oh, I know I should be grateful.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “But I also know everybody thinks that I’m Narlydda’s daughter first and Alanna second. They look at me and see my mother.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Rick said. “Unless I’m mistaken, I didn’t invite your mother to come out for a walk.”
Alanna chuckled and took his arm.
She was more a shadow than substance beside him. Rick could hear the warmth in her voice, feel the grace in her stride. How had Skerry and Narlydda ever managed to produce such a beauty? He felt both attraction and hesitation. She was lovely, true. But she was also family.
“Why did you come out here with me?” he asked.
“Oh, I get so tired of those meetings,” she said. “The best times I have at them are when I manage to sneak out.” She laughed, a melodious, lilting sound. “My father and I once snuck away and went to a bar in Sausalito. My mother was furious.”
Rick chuckled. “Your old man is famous for stunts like that. I’ve heard some crazy stories about him.”
“He’s wonderful,” Alanna said. “But a typical father.”
“Overprotective?”
“That’s an understatement. He doesn’t realize that I’m not a little girl anymore. So I guess I need to show him.”
“By going off into the night with your black-sheep cousin?”
“Well, no. And yes.”
Rick grabbed her by the shoulder. “Listen, if what you’re doing here is trying to teach your folks some kind of lesson, count me out. I don’t want to be used that way. Or to tangle with your father.”
“Frightened?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he said. But maybe I am, he thought.
“Dad would never hurt you.”
“Not if I saw him first.” Rick kicked a eucalyptus bud and sent it barreling under a bush. “Is the only reason you came along that you want to upset your parents?”
“If I have to explain why I came, then maybe I should just go back to the meeting,” she said in mock disgust. “I think you know why I came.” She moved closer to him. “I’ve heard interesting stories about you, too, Rick. My wild cousin.”
He felt a cool, ghostly touch upon his cheek. Her hand, lingering briefly. The touch of starlight.
“I’m not that wild.” Especially half a mile away from the Council meeting.”
“Don’t disappoint me.”
She moved closer. Her lips were soft against his, cool at first, then warm. Much warmer. Every place she touched him was warm.
He drew her against him and felt surprising strength in her delicate frame. The urge to pull her down onto the mossy hillside was strong. To lie with her there until all his anger and frustration was extinguished. Would she be the one to banish it? To heal him? For a moment he was tempted, so very tempted. But not now. The Council meeting wasn’t over yet. And if they both came in, sweaty and breathless, Alanna would answer for more than high spirits. He couldn’t do that to her. Already he felt too much for her. And so, reluctantly, he released her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t you want to be with me?”
“Yes. Very much. But not here. Not now.”
Alanna glanced away, crushed. “So much for wildness.”
“I don’t want to be wild with you. Not that way.”
“I guess I don’t understand.”
He took her hand. “Neither do I, really.” How to explain that he wanted her, but not here, not now? That suddenly he wanted to be more than just her way of thumbing her nose at the Council. More than a trophy to flaunt at her parents. But was she truly Skerry’s daughter: reckless and irreverent and just looking for a good time?
What if she was? Did he blame her? At least she was honest. Look at how her eyes glistened. Beautiful. Why was he suddenly turning into some kind of white knight while lovely Alanna was beside him in the cool darkness, wanting him?
She turned to go.
He grabbed her hand. Pulled her to him. Sank down on the soft, leaf-covered hillside.
“Hey!”
“Changed my mind,” he said.
She giggled. “Good.”
And then neither of them spoke.
***
Julian watched a group of kids practice levitation by the side door of the auditorium. They bounced up and down, kicking off from the ceiling and walls, giggling and shrieking with excitement. An occasional rebuke from a nearby adult quieted them for a moment. But nothing could restrain their high spirits for long. Julian didn’t mind their tumult.
When he was younger, Council meetings had been his only chance to play with other mutant children, and the only time when he hadn’t felt slightly odd about his mutant powers. He watched the children romp now with a mixture of envy and nostalgia: none of them had grown up in a family of nulls and nonmutants. None of them would ever contend with a null twin brother envious of their power. Mutant ability—or lack of it—might have created a thick barrier between Julian and Rick if not for twinsense, their special link.
“Julian, what did you think of Hawkins’s presentation?”
His aunt Narlydda, wearing a lavender stretch suit, peered down at him from her regal height.
He shrugged. “Just another panhandler after our talent.”
“That’s cynical.”
“But realistic. And I’ll bet you feel the same way,” Julian said.
“I won’t give you any argument there.” Her eyes sparkled. “Of course, I have cause to feel a bit more warmly toward the colonel. After all, he saved my life, and Skerry’s. Not to mention that of your mother and father.”
“Yes, I know. I’m waiting for my father to set it to music: the Ballad of the Long Rescue.” Julian ran his fingers over imaginary synthesizer keys. “Besides, I thought you really saved everybody. Didn’t you keep them in an oxygen field until Hawkins and company arrived to scoop you all up?”
Narlydda smiled. “Something like that. Well, then I suppose you’re immune to space fever.”
“I hope so,” Julian said. “I’ve got plans on Earth. Sometimes I think my crazy brother would be happier in orbit. Escape velocity seems like just Rick’s speed. But it’s not for me.”
“Tell me about your brave new world at the lab. How goes the flare research?”
Julian hesitated. He didn’t really want to talk about the work he was doing. But he didn’t want to be rude, either.
“It’s very interesting,” he said. “I’ve only seen one image so far.”
“What kind?”
“A woman, dressed in white.”
“What does that mean? Did you recognize her?”
“No,” Julian said. “And I don’t want to interpret it. We’ve got a lot of theories about the possible precognitive content of flares, but not much to go on. Yet.”
Narlydda shook her head. “I always thought that was flap-doodle. Wishful thinking by a bunch of mutant scientists.”
“It’s not wishful thinking.” Julian’s voice was louder than he’d intended. But Narlydda had nettled him.
“You mean they’ve proved that there’s true precognitive material available through the flares?”
“Not exactly.”
She flashed him a triumphant look. “I thought so.”
“I’m sure we’ll decode the content of the flares eventually.”
“Don’t get offended, Julian.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Regardless of what it all means, I’m sure it’s fabulous to see. In fact, I’d love to take a stab at it.” Her eyes were glittering suddenly.
Julian looked away. “Only telepaths can read the flares.”
“Oh.” She gave him an ironic smile. “What a shame. Well, I guess you aren’t afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of the flares.”
“Why should I be? Somebody else has them. I just ride them telepathically.”
“To me, flares always meant pain and madness.”
“Maybe to your generation and those before you,” Julian said. “But now we have drugs to control them.” He shifted from one foot to another, suddenly uncomfortable. “I mean, I know my grandfather died from the flares, but that was before Percolin and the other dampers were invented. No, I’m not afraid of flares.”
“Good. I wish I shared that feeling.” Narlydda shivered delicately, “Be careful, Julian.”
“Don’t worry.”
“That’s an aunt’s prerogative.” She smiled. “And please keep me informed of your progress. The aesthetic possibilities in this sound intriguing. Maybe someday nontelepaths will get a peek into the flares, too. But right now, I think Guindelle’s about to reconvene.” She paused, and her smile disappeared. “I do hope your brother decides to rejoin us soon.”
But Rick did not return. Nor did Alanna.
The cry went out: “Call to order.”
Everyone took their seats.
“Ready for the vote?”
The crowd answered affirmative.
The tally went quickly, without any surprises. Vincent Guindelle triumphed over Paula Byrne and was elected Book Keeper for the Western Mutant Council. He accepted with a few grateful remarks.
Byrne conceded less graciously. She stormed to the podium, her black robes flying, her white hair bobbing around her head like a low cloud. “I’d hoped you’d learned,” she said. “But the erosion of values, of traditions, continues. When will you see the error of your ways? Return to the Book. Before it’s too late! Cast out the outsiders or lose your heritage.”
“Sit down, Paula!”
“Better yet, go home.”
Did she really think she ever had a chance?
We should throw her out. She’s crazy. Wants to turn the Book into some sort of religion. Nonbelievers! Where does she think she is?
“You saw the vote. See you later. Or never.”
“She won’t be happy until she infects the entire mutant community with her paranoid ideas.”
To the mocking chorus of shouts and mindspeech, Paula Byrne strode from the hall followed by five or six of her faithful.
“Now come to order,” Vincent Guindelle called. “Quiet. We must have quiet.”
The catcalls subsided.
“The work of the artist Narlydda is well known,” Guindelle said. “And we are honored to have her among us. Today she has brought us a rare gift to hang in the Council hall.”
A bulky parcel floated toward the podium. As Julian watched, the wrapping began to smolder. Yellow and green flames lapped eagerly at the padding protecting the artwork, enveloping it as bronze sparks shot high into the air.
The audience gasped.
Smoke covered the stage. But a hurricane wind came shrieking out of the balcony to clear the air, revealing Narlydda’s three-panel sculpture hung neatly on the wall behind the Book Keeper. The work glowed with bronze, blue, and purple crylights, its glazing refracting and reflecting every hue.
“Bravo, Narlydda!”
“And Skerry, too!”
Beautiful, just beautiful.
Speech! Come on, say something.
&nb
sp; But Narlydda shook her head.
The pandemonium rose. Finally, Skerry sent out a mental warning: Narlydda never makes speeches. Besides, her work speaks for itself. So listen to that instead and settle down. Or we’ll take it home.
Amid laughter, the meeting began to break up in a cheerful hubbub of chatter and dinner plans. But when Julian joined the little group consisting of his parents and Narlydda and Skerry, he saw that his uncle wasn’t smiling.
“Melanie, I’m going to break your son’s neck for him,” Skerry rasped.
“Be quiet,” Narlydda said. She smiled frostily at her husband. “What he really means to say is he’s hungry.”
“What’s the matter?” Melanie said. “Where’s Rick? Where’s Alanna? I thought …” She glanced around the room. “Uh-oh.”
Skerry frowned. “I second that emotion.”
“Julian,” Yosh said. “Weren’t you going to tell us all about your lab work?”
“Dad, you’re a little late,” Julian said. Where was Rick? Had he run off? Uncle Skerry looked like he was about to explode.
“Melanie, let’s go back to the hotel,” said Yosh. “Skerry and Narlydda can meet us for dinner in half an hour. If Rick isn’t back by then, I say the hell with him. I’ve got an early rehearsal tomorrow morning.”
“You go ahead,” Melanie said. “I’ll wait.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Yosh said.
Julian took her arm. “He’s right, Mom. You don’t even know if Rick is coming back.”
His mother’s face was defiant. “He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to me.”
“Mom, be reasonable. It gets lonely here at night. Put a message on the screen by the door. He knows where we’re staying.” He shook her gently. “Come on.”
Melanie frowned. “Oh, all right. Let’s go.”
As they walked toward the door Rick came bustling in. He stopped short, his eyes wide with surprise.