by Karen Haber
The lab sat at the south end of campus in what had formerly been an athletic facility. An empty swimming pool, its walls pale blue, awaited obliteration in the courtyard. Hawkins pointed to it. “You said you need more lab space here. Why haven’t you removed the pool?”
“Budget,” Dalheim said. “I’m afraid that the hard-science boys like Farnam here get first dibs on the university’s pie.”
Farnam gave him a sour smile. “Like hell, Hugh. We have to scrabble for money and space, just like you.”
“Not as hard, I’d say.”
The two men glared at each other.
“Good morning, good morning,” said a lilting alto voice. “Sorry I’m late.”
A small, redheaded woman came down the hall. Her green eyes twinkled and she smiled with pixyish charm. Behind her was a tall, blond young man in a lab coat.
“Dr. Seguy, I presume?” Hawkins took her hand. It was tiny in his, yet her handshake was firm. “I’m Ethan Hawkins.”
“Of course.” She beamed. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
Dalheim cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact—”
“Not long at all,” Hawkins said. Bus had said Eva Seguy was attractive. He hadn’t said—probably didn’t realize—that she gave off sparks. A tiny, twinkly woman full of life and lively intelligence. And a nice voice, too.
“This is my assistant, Julian Akimura.” She turned to the blond man. A private look passed between them.
Hawkins saw the man’s eyes glitter with mutant gold. “Akimura,” he said. “Didn’t I meet you before?”
“Yes, at the Mutant Council meeting,” Akimura said. His voice was cool, his expression distant.
Akimura, Hawkins thought. The functional twin.
Eva Seguy pressed her hand against the keypad by the door. There was an audible click. “You’re welcome to look around the lab, Colonel.”
Hawkins saw a large room divided by a glass panel, encircled by an observation platform. On either side of the divider, couches sat, side by side, with headsets dangling from them. He lifted one. “What’s this for?”
“To link the riders with the dreamers.”
“Riders?”
“Telepaths.”
“And the dreamers?”
“They have the flares.”
“But why asleep?”
“We’ve found that a sedated mind is easier for the telepaths to handle.”
“Couldn’t that affect the data?”
Eva Seguy nodded. “Of course. It’s a risk we must take.”
Akimura spoke up. “We tried it with them awake at first, but their conscious minds were too resistant.”
“Interesting.” Hawkins sat down on the nearest couch. “Dr. Seguy, I asked to see your program because Bus here promised me it would be interesting. And who isn’t fascinated by precognition?”
“Colonel, no one ever said—”
“Call me Ethan, please.” He smiled.
“Nobody said anything about precognition. This is merely a trial program to investigate the possibility that there is content in the flares.”
“Precognitive content.”
Her face reddened. “Yes. Possibly.”
“And what results have you seen?”
“Colonel Hawkins—Ethan, I’ll be frank as well.” She met has gaze directly. “We’ve had very little hard evidence that the flares contain distinct information that can be utilized.”
“But the possibility still exists?” Hawkins said eagerly. “Nothing you’ve seen has convinced you otherwise?”
“We’re optimistic.”
“Eva, I’ve done a little research,” Hawkins said. “You’re also running out of money.”
She gave him a shrewd look. Crossed her arms. “We’ve submitted grant proposals. And we’re—”
“Optimistic. I’m sure.” Hawkins grinned. “But could it be that one reason you allowed this visit is, shall we say, my connections?”
She glanced at Dalheim. “Yes.”
Hawkins admired her boldness. “What if I told you I might be able to help, but there’d be a price?”
“I’d say I expected that. What price?”
“I want to be hooked up to a machine. To ride a flare.”
***
Julian had watched their byplay without a word. But now he couldn’t control himself. “That’s impossible,” he said. “Nonmutants don’t have the capacity to do it.”
“That’s true, Colonel,” Dalheim said.
“Hawk,” Farnam said. “What are you talking about?”
Hawkins turned smoothly to face Julian. “What if I hooked in with you, then? You’re a functional telepath, aren’t you? Couldn’t you bring me along for the ride?”
Flabbergasted, Julian looked at Eva. She was smiling an odd smile. As their eyes met, she nodded slightly. Julian stared fixedly, in disbelief, until she nodded again, more pointedly this time.
“I—I don’t know,” Julian said, still staring at Eva.
“You can try, can’t you?”
“I guess so. But it’s tricky. I can’t tell how Colonel Hawkins will react.”
“I’ll take full responsibility,” Hawkins said. “Whatever happens, you will be blameless.”
“Then it’s settled,” Eva said. “Give me a minute to check the dreamer roster,” she said, and turned on her deskscreen. “Good. Schueller’s due any minute. Meanwhile, Julian, you can hook up the Colonel.”
Julian paused. He was unwilling to link with another person so soon after last night: he wanted to preserve the special intimacy of his bond with Eva. Besides, mindlinks didn’t always work between mutant and non-mutant. And he sensed potential danger from Colonel Hawkins: he was like other important, successful men who expected to have their way. Reckless. But Eva was reckless, too. Determined to save the program by whatever means necessary.
Grimly, Julian set the electrodes at Hawkins’s temples.
A short man with curly brown hair and bright golden eyes entered the other side of the lab. Marcus Schueller. The sleeper assigned to this shift. He stopped, startled by the sight of the assembled group.
Eva pressed a speaker panel. “It’s all right, Marcus,” she said. “In a minute, Julian will link with you for the flare ride.”
Schueller bobbed his head uncertainly. Then he settled onto a couch, put on a headset, and pressed a hypo to his arm. His eyes closed as the drug took effect and his face went slack.
“Ready,” Eva said. “Proceed, Julian.”
He sat down on the couch next to Hawkins. Took a deep breath. Touched the side of Hawkins’s head.
“Relax.” He closed his eyes.
And was swept into a dizzying communion. The power of the other man’s mind, of his personality, was potent, consuming. Julian fought to maintain control. He sensed Hawkins’s astonishment at the linkage. Julian kept his own shields in place, avoiding mind-speech or other communication. Carefully, he leaned back on the couch.
The light show began.
Flash!
They were in a green park divided by deep valleys and tall cliffs. A long glass building bridged the gap between two hilltops. Beneath it flowed a stream in which the color of the water changed from red to green to blue.
Inside the building, a corridor led into a hillside and down to a vast meeting hall. The air was thick with excited talk. Every seat was filled. A chime struck. Once. Twice. The room fell silent.
A tall woman in a lavender cloak swept onstage. A shock of white hair at her temple. Light green skin. Narlydda? Yes. Who else had that queenly, imperious demeanor? But she was changed: aged, thicker around the waist and hips, her face lined.
And who was that other tall woman with her? A paler echo: Alanna? It had to be. But much older. Her hair was streaked with gray. And her eyes were sad. So sad.
Fantastic!
Hawkins’s reaction crackled through Julian’s shields. Julian boosted his protection. He kept his thoughts to himself.
A door
opened at the back of the stage and a tall man walked out and approached a podium. At first, Julian thought it was his uncle Michael. But no. The man was too young, still blond. It looked like—could it be? Julian. Himself. Older, yes. But unmistakable. Fascinating. He watched himself reach out a hand to Alanna. The scene wavered.
No. No. Get it back.
He fought to grab at the disintegrating image.
“Julian, what are you doing?” Eva’s voice was loud through the headset.
His eyes flew open. Through the window he could see the flare provider, Schueller, convulsing on his couch.
“Stop fighting it,” Eva said. “Stop it. You’ll kill him.”
But it was too late. Beside him, Hawkins thrashed, choking. As Julian reached out toward him, a great slab of metal came loose from the wallscreen to their left and fell to the floor with a resounding crash. And then another. The lab was disintegrating. Dalheim and Farnam ducked the falling debris. Julian heard a loud scream. Eva. Where was she?
He tore off his headset, oblivious to his own safety. A huge panel had fallen onto the observer’s platform at the back of the lab. Was Eva beneath it? He grappled with the buckled metal but couldn’t budge it.
Maddened, he blasted it a mind bolt. The panel flipped backward, flew through the air, and smashed into the far wall.
Eva. No.
She lay on the floor, crumpled like a broken puppet. Blood trickled in a dark trail from the corner of her mouth.
Julian lifted her head. It was a dead weight in his hand.
“Eva?”
No response.
Eva. Beloved. Answer me. Please.
His mindspeech echoed in the silence.
Gently, he set her down.
Reckless, he thought. She was too reckless. And I helped her.
What’s wrong with being reckless? Always worked for me.
The mindspeech was loud, jarring. Julian looked quickly around the room for its source.
Over here, dummy.
It was coming from Eva’s body.
You always miss what’s just under your nose, don’t you?
And she was sitting up, smiling brightly, wiping the blood from her face.
“I don’t understand,” Julian said. “How can you mindspeak me? How can you have mutant powers?”
But I’ve always had mutant powers. Didn’t you realize that?
Her face was changing now, moving, melting, reforming, until it wasn’t Eva sitting and grinning at him, but his brother, Rick.
“Where’s Eva?” Julian demanded.
Who?
“Dammit, don’t screw around with me! What have you done with her?” Julian reached for his brother’s neck and felt solid flesh for a moment, then it dissolved beneath his hands. The room spun around him, imploded, and he was lying on the couch as a hail of blue and green and yellow and red particles swept up and over him, then faded.
Inky blackness, broken only by the steady glow of cold white lights. Space. Stars. Julian was looking at a cone-shaped orbital station floating above a bright red world. Mars? But no stations had been established there yet. Was he really seeing the future now?
Through the telepathic link, he could sense Hawkins’s enormous excitement. Well, of course he’d be interested. He was a space pioneer, wasn’t he?
The station grew larger, larger, until he was inside it, watching a celebration. A crowd surged over a floating platform, laughing, talking, eating, and drinking as a strange orchestra, half human, half mech, played high, eerie music. In the center of the crowd, Ethan Hawkins danced, his arms around his partner. Eva. They were staring into each other’s eyes and smiling as lovers do when sharing a private moment in public.
Julian recoiled. Hawkins and Eva, lovers? No. No. No. It couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.
The scene faded, the colors returned, and then Julian was blinking at the wall of glass separating him from the still-sleeping Schueller. The lab was intact. Nothing had changed.
Hawkins sat up, a look of amazement on his face. His deep voice was hushed as though in awe. He blinked rapidly. “Extraordinary. Especially the second vision.”
Julian wanted to hit him.
“Second vision?” Eva said. She came forward and pressed the control for the screen recorder.
She was fine. Alive. Nothing had happened here, Julian reminded himself.
“What did you see? Julian, you go first.”
He paused, chagrined. He’d hoped to discuss this. Impossible. He saw that, now. Well, just an outline, then. “Uh, yes, a second vision. The first was of a vast hall in which many people were gathered, mutant and non.”
“Did you recognize anybody?” Eva asked.
“Yes,” Julian said, each word a slow burden. “Onstage. My aunt, Narlydda, and her daughter, Alanna. But older. Much older.”
Hawkins watched him, riveted.
“Anybody else?
“Yes. A man,” Julian said. He stared at Eva. “He looked like me.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No, this was a soundless vision.”
“You mean you’ve been able to hear things?” Hawkins asked excitedly.
“Sometimes.”
Seguy turned to Hawkins. “Do you confirm his report?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “A huge room filled with mutants and nonmutants at which a ceremony was about to take place.”
“And the second vision?” Seguy prompted.
“It was in the lab,” Julian said.
“No it wasn’t,” Hawkins said. “It was in space.”
“How many visions did you see?” Julian demanded.
“Two. I saw two. The mutant meeting, and then the space station,” Hawkins said.
“It was near Mars? An orbital facility, cone-shaped, floated above?”
The colonel nodded. “It was a C-11 orbital multi-use pavilion, the prototype of which is being worked on in my company labs right now.”
“What else did you see?”
“Just the station, spinning in space.”
Julian hesitated. So they hadn’t seen exactly the same thing. Or Hawkins was withholding information. No. Why would he? “That corresponds to my vision,” Julian said.
“What about the lab you mentioned?” Eva asked.
“I was confused.”
Hawkins stood up. “Well, Doctor, you may not be convinced about the precognitive content of these flares. But I certainly am.” He turned to Dalheim. “I’d like to underwrite any costs this program incurs.”
Dalheim’s face went pale. “Really, Colonel, it’s not necessary—”
“Wonderful,” Eva said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Hawkins smiled. “Well, let’s start with lunch.”
No one said a word.
Farnam cleared his throat. “Hawk, we’re due in Denver …”
“We’ll be late.”
“Colonel, I have another program I’m sure you’d be interested in seeing,” Dalheim said.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Dalheim.” Hawkins’s gaze never left Eva Seguy. “I’m running late as it is, and two research programs is really my limit for one day. Maybe next time.”
“I know a good place for lunch,” Julian said.
Eva shook her head. “Julian, I’d like to talk to the colonel privately. I’ll see you afterward.”
She and Hawkins turned and left the three men standing in the lab.
.
******************
7
The house was quiet. Alanna peered into the family room. Empty. Her mother must be upstairs in her studio. Maybe her father was there as well. Impatient with the steps, she floated quickly up the stairs. As she neared her mother’s sculpture room, she heard her parents talking loudly.
“Skerry, you’re completely wrong about that maquette. The arms must appear elongated or the piece won’t have the balance I want.”
“Bullshit. I say you’re getting lazy, Lydda. If this distortion worked, I’d be the
first to applaud. But this looks like you just need a lesson in anatomy.”
“How dare you lecture me on perspective!” Narlydda’s voice rose. “Just because you’re foreman for my casting doesn’t make you an authority on my work.”
“Pardon me, O holy receptacle of the muse’s grace.”
Alanna froze in midair. When her father turned sarcastic, it was best to be elsewhere. Fast. She would have to confront them some other time.
She spun around and floated toward the stairs. But she must have made some noise because her father poked his head out of the studio and saw her.
“Narlydda, your daughter’s here,” he said. “Perfect timing. Don’t run away, Alanna.” His tone was sharp. “Or should I say, don’t run away again.”
Alanna made a graceful landing in the center of the room. “I didn’t run away.”
“Call it whatever you want.”
Her mother cut in. “Stop it, both of you.” To Alanna’s surprise, her mother leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“For God’s sake, Lydda. Don’t be so reasonable.”
“Why not? If I’m not, who will be?”
“Not me, that’s for damn sure.” He pointed at Alanna. “You’ve gone right over the edge, kiddo. Right over it. What the hell are you trying to prove?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything.” Alanna blinked rapidly, tears stinging her eyes.
“No? What was that stunt with Rick Akimura, then? Did we deserve that?”
“I didn’t do it to you.” She was crying openly now. “I did it for me. I thought you’d understand.”
“We do, honey.” Narlydda’s voice was gentle.
“Speak for yourself, Lydda.”
Alanna sobbed harder.
“That’s enough, Skerry!”
Alanna had never heard her mother use that tone before. Her parents stared at each other silently. Then her father sighed.
“Lydda, get two sherries from the mech and float one over here, will you?”
“A hypo is faster.”
“You know I can’t stand those things.” He settled into an overstuffed purple armchair and nimbly caught the glass of amber liquid as it floated toward him. “Teenie, I’m sorry. I’m mad as hell at you. But that doesn’t mean I want to make you cry.”