The Rogue Wolf

by KT Belt

  Carmen could only gawk at him. Take care of yourself? she reflected. New Earth was off its axis—had to be. She seemed to be the only person who noticed, though. Phaethon, she thought with a groan as she considered him. She wondered if she had ever vexed her handlers as much as he did her. He’d probably try to punch her the next time they met to make up for it.

  But she ignored that entirely likely possibility and looked at the board one last time. What can I do? she thought. On and on, she considered every step and outcome, questioning each and every moment. What can I do?

  She stood after a sigh and left the board in place as Phaethon asked. Everyone knew they played chess there, so she didn’t think anyone would mess with it. She saw Kali as she made her way across the field. They passed close enough to hear a word between them if one was spoken. They certainly could have spoken telepathically. But they barely waved to each other. Carmen wasn’t in the mood to talk. Perhaps Kali wasn’t either, or maybe she could sense as much from her former charge or tell from the plodding determination of her steps. Whatever it was, Carmen walked right past her, though she could practically feel Kali’s stare as she walked away.

  She was in the facility proper a short moment later. It always took her aback at just how numbing a place it was. Most of the assets preferred to be outside when they could, and she couldn’t blame them. The hall, just like when Kali had taken her out for the first time all those years ago, was dull and windowless. A little girl and her handler were walking toward her at the other end of it. The girl was maybe eleven or twelve. Carmen was never very good at guessing ages. She looked about nervously while she followed her handler. Maybe she was going to have her first flight? Carmen wasn’t sure, but it made her think of the first time she’d been brought to this level with Kali. The memory stood out as much as the skyscrapers of Haven City.

  The girl stared at Carmen as they approached each other. The girl’s body quaked with anxious indecision with each step forward. Carmen could sympathize, and she smiled down at the girl when she was close enough. The gesture wasn’t returned with the same courtesy. After a flash of surprise, the girl raised her fists and then took a few hesitant steps away. Carmen would be hard pressed to say the reaction was unexpected; kids just greeted smiles as an invitation for a fight here. The girl’s handler, for his part, nodded Carmen’s way, to which she replied with a nod of her own. They passed each other after that. The girl watched Carmen over her shoulder. Carmen gave her a backwards glance. She looked away just when the girl paused in shocked amazement at her handler opening the door to the outside world.

  Carmen then transitioned to the heart of the facility’s administration. There were no assets here, just the technicians, scientists, handlers, and others who allowed the facility to function from day to day. Carmen spent very little time here. She spent as little time inside the facility as possible, but her duties rarely carried her to this place in particular. At least there were windows, one of the perks of it being an above-ground level. Her destination eventually came into sight. She didn’t sense anyone inside the room and there wasn’t a note on the door, but he had said that, if he wasn’t there, she should just wait for him. She walked inside to do just that.

  It was a Clairvoyant’s office through and through. The decor was purposeful, clean. No attempts had been made to soften the space or make it feel more like home, as she found in most workplaces. It wasn’t cold or robotic in nature, but there was a quiet intensity and focus that was hard to place.

  Carmen took a seat as she waited for Gungnir. He had to be along shortly. He knew she was coming. It helped that the office had a window with a rather spectacular view of Haven City. You could see almost all of it. In the foreground, the courtyard of the facility was close enough that you could just barely make out individual assets’ faces in their bumbling attempts to socially fit in. As always, the ever-present mass of skyscrapers towered over them, existing almost like a growth of the landscape.

  She was just starting to get a full taste of the scene when the door opened. The Clairvoyant’s head shot toward it in surprise. She hadn’t sensed anyone approaching. Gungnir, however, made no reaction to her. He was noticeably taller than herself, if she’d been standing. Like her, he was blond, though his hair was almost white in color, and like her it was tied into a ponytail, though his was quite a bit shorter. She couldn’t read him no matter how hard she tried. But there was a measured focus to his power that was quite obvious, like a high-powered laser compared to an atom bomb. It was different from most of the Clairvoyants she had met. It seemed…mature. Carmen considered herself in that instant and wondered if Phaethon looked at her in the same way. She doubted it.

  He walked into the room and took a seat behind his desk. “Edge, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a slow nod.

  Carmen looked at him hard, as curious as she was confused. It was a simple statement, but it was so…to the point. He had to be the most Clairvoyant Clairvoyant she had ever met. His words, both spoken and unspoken, said everything that needed to be conveyed yet carried little of their intrinsic meaning.

  “Can you help me?” she asked simply and directly.

  “And what’s your problem?”

  “I need money,” she said, confused. “Didn’t Kali tell you?”

  “Yes and no,” Gungnir answered after a pause.

  “So—”

  “So, Edge,” Gungnir said, interrupting her. “Kali informed me of your situation. However, I asked you what’s your problem?”

  “And I answered. I need money,” Carmen said again with more emphasis.

  Gungnir sat back in his chair, nodding slowly once more. She wished she could read him. “And how is that a problem?” he asked.

  The briefest of frowns graced her face. “I don’t need it for me. My boyfriend could…will die without it.”

  “Do you care for him?” Gungnir asked.

  Carmen hesitated for the briefest of instants. “Yes, of course,” she said confidently. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she asked back. She’d never reasoned it out before. “I love him. Why else?”

  “Why?” Gungnir asked again.

  Carmen didn’t say anything for a short while. “I guess he was the first to see me as…” Her voice trailed off in a quiver as she thought about what she was about to say.

  Her mind went to that day on the bluff when she had first met him. Every second of that all too brief moment stayed with her always, ever present and all encompassing. Every day since, however, had been no more than a fragmented blur. She recomposed her thoughts.

  “I want him to live. I need him to live. I need him to.”

  She stopped talking, yet Gungnir seemed completely unmoved by her conviction. In truth, she was as well.

  “I need to know…I need to know that I can do this,” she continued.

  “This?”

  “Everything I’ve been trying to do for the past two years. Since I left,” she said, “it hasn’t been easy.” She looked away from Gungnir for a moment. “Sometimes I have dreams that he just wakes up and the rest of my life is…”

  “Is what?”

  “Happy.” She nodded slowly. “I have to keep trying. No matter what it takes,” she said more to herself than to him.

  Gungnir nodded. “Your predicament is not a problem,” he said without missing a beat. “Your boyfriend will just be another body for the foundations. No one will notice.”

  Carmen’s lips pressed together into an outright frown. He spoke before she could say anything.

  “I can’t read you, but I’d say you look angry.”

  What made you guess that? she thought. But she said, “No.”

  “We Clairvoyants are always so bad at lying,” he remarked. “I don’t know why we try. Anger, however, is good…at least for some.”

  “Well, I don’t need anger. I need money. Can you help me?”

  “No. Unfortunately, I cannot,” h
e said.

  Carmen was about to leave right then and there, but Gungnir must have sensed as much because he gave her a look that pinned her in place. It reminded her of the halting glares Janus used to give her. The two men weren’t physically alike, nor did they feel in any way similar, but that look… She was happy Kali had never used it. He said nothing, though. Carmen waited while he got out of his chair and walked to the window. He looked at the cityscape, crossing his arms behind his back. Carmen watched it as well.

  “I can’t help you, Edge, because there is nothing wrong with you. You don’t have a problem,” he said slowly.

  “I don’t have a problem!” Carmen said with a start. Gungnir glanced at her over his shoulder, and she held herself to just that outburst. He turned to look back out the window while she took a deep breath. “What Kali told you—why I’m here—is a problem for me,” she said simply.

  Gungnir didn’t speak. Instead, the two of them watched a group of assets attempt to organize some sort of ball catching game, obviously prompted by their handlers. After a few frustrated tries, the group scattered when the rules couldn’t be agreed upon. Carmen’s gaze then went to a handler and asset returning from a field trip in Haven City. She didn’t know what Gungnir was looking at. The asset fell to the ground in tears after reaching the grounds of the facility. Carmen couldn’t tell if the asset was happy to be back or upset at whatever happened during the trip. Either way, she made no response to her handler’s best attempts at consoling her. She looked at Gungnir, who simply watched all that transpired calmly and dispassionately yet somehow calculatingly.

  “That, I’m sorry to say, is the point,” he muttered, half turning to face her.

  “The point of what?” she asked.

  Gungnir motioned to the walls all around them. “This place.”

  Carmen dropped her head into an open palm and then looked at him. “So, the people who run this facility want my Michael to die?” she asked, unable to help a bit of sarcasm. “And why would they want that?”

  “Edge, you forget why you’re here?” he asked as he turned to look back outside. His tone was even. Carmen didn’t know what to make of it. He already turned her down but had yet to tell her to leave, for what that was worth.

  “Why am I here?”

  Yet again, Gungnir said nothing. He surveyed the city and the grounds, his head turning slightly from side to side as his gaze leapt from feature to feature.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” he finally asked. Carmen couldn’t help but agree with a small nod. “I must admit most of the reason I chose this office was because of the view. It’s fitting.”

  “How?” she asked simply.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Did you know that, eons ago, on Earth, people were afraid to go into the forests?”

  “No.”

  “It’s ridiculous, but they believed monsters and horrible beasts lived in the forests and other dark places.” He paused before he continued. “A war is raging, but if you haven’t noticed, none of that war is taking place here or on any world with a large Clairvoyant population. When the sortens or Eternals attack other worlds, they have to kill every last man, woman, and child to be certain they can hold the territory. That is why we are here. We are wolves,” he said, turning around. Behind him, Carmen could see the clouds break, once again covering the facility in the shadows of Haven City. “And we aren’t able to give pause to those who want to enter the forest if we aren’t vicious. More than that, we can never leave the forest, otherwise those taking refuge within it would be rendered defenseless.”

  Carmen couldn’t help but think about her time with Janus and Kali, her thus far failed attempts at reaching Phaethon, and how much trouble she had with finding a job.

  “And this has what to do with me and my problem?” she asked.

  “As I said, you have no problem, since you are acting exactly as you were trained. It is not something I can really fix. I was trained similarly,” he said. “You said you need money. I can help you get that. But I can’t do anything to help with why you need money and can’t get it other than through people like me. Before you and I go any further, I want you to understand that.”

  “It’s just a job. I don’t have any choice.”

  “It’s not just a job, and there is always a choice,” Gungnir said.

  Carmen looked at him hard and then said slowly, “I don’t have any choice.”

  “You can let him die,” he said. His tone wasn’t cold nor was it comforting, just even and factual.

  She said nothing to that and simply waited. Gungnir sat back at his desk and nodded slowly.

  “Fine,” he said. “What did your old handler tell you about me?”

  “Not very much. Just that you know about jobs that pay very well…and that they skirt the outer edge of the law.”

  “Hmm. Odd,” he muttered with a shrug. “Kali and I were close. We were interned together during the sorten occupation. We even named each other…though I must admit that we and the rest of our generation were a little grandiose with our selections. I figured she would have mentioned at least how we knew each other.”

  “No.”

  “Hmm,” he muttered again, nodding. “She told me a fair amount about you.”

  “Like what?” Carmen asked.

  “I’ll just say that she says you live true to your name, for as much as that helps and hurts you. Nevertheless, she knows I’m always on the lookout for talent and recommended you to me based on that.”

  “So, you’ll help me then?” she asked. He frowned, which extinguished her small glimmer of hope like a candle placed under a waterfall.

  “If that’s how you want to consider it,” he eventually remarked. “But I want you to be clear that this is what you want before you agree to anything.”

  Carmen didn’t hesitate. “It is,” she said.

  Gungnir nodded. “All right. You will be hearing from me within the next few days. You should pack your bags.”

  6

  Mouse and Cat

  Evonea was always a noisy muddle. Its natives, a group that included himself, were brash enough to call the chaos cosmopolitan. Everyone else simply called the sensory overload what it was: pandemonium. He couldn’t see what the problem was. How could you not have cities whose lights were visible a galaxy away? Peace and quiet—what was that, a terrible myth? Any other type of life was an insipid, pointless bother.

  Carson—at least his name would be Carson till he stole another ID—nimbly moved his big frame through the crowded sidewalk as he took in all the sights and sounds. He tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible. There was no need to be careless, even if this was his home planet. Business was too good thanks to the war to waste being on the run for a month or so. His dress and manner were nondescript. He knew what was required; this wasn’t the first time.

  The meeting wouldn’t be in person. None of them had been. He’d write a book about all the idiosyncrasies of his various employers if he could do it without landing in jail. His latest client, Charon, as a Clairvoyant, could certainly fill a chapter or two. There were perks for being in a Clairvoyant’s employ, though. The pay always arrived on time, and he was never lied to, even if he didn’t know the whole story. He was told the job, and all that mattered was that he completed it, no bullshit.

  But Charon never showed his face. He never met in person. And, as somewhat of a curiosity, he never said who he was working for. Carson guessed it was the sortens, considering the targets, which was unusual, since most Clairvoyants detested sortens. There was no way to be sure, though, nor was it even worthwhile to know. In this business, some modicum of ignorance at times meant surviving to see another day. So, he’d never really cared to ask.

  He rounded a corner and disappeared into a new crowd. The meeting site was about a block away, but he preferred to take his time, just in case he had a tail. Unfortunately, the gaggle of people that made him hard to follow also made it hard to know whether he was b
eing followed. He had his pistol for any shadow. You always had to be careful, even if you hadn’t been nor planned to be planetside for very long.

  The meeting was in an old hotel—at least old for Evonea. There was older bellybutton lint on Earth than buildings on Evonea. Carson paused for a moment before he went inside. He just had one of those feelings. It was difficult to know how Clairvoyants could stand them all the time. He casually glanced around himself for a time, but there was nothing to see, so he walked inside a few seconds later.

  The places changed, but the method always remained the same. He never knew exactly what room to go to. A key would be waiting for him at the check-in desk. The clerk this time was a young man who could pass for being in his late teens. It was amazing he hadn’t been drafted yet.

  “May I help you, sir?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Carson said. “I have a reservation. Name is Decker.”

  “Okay, please say your name into this microphone.”

  Carson leaned forward. “Decker,” he said.

  “Thank you. It will be room 110. Just say your name at the door to open it. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

  He nodded. The room was down the hall. He always insisted on having meetings on ground floors. His hand found his pistol, though he didn’t pull it out. He’d take meetings outside in the open if he had his ultimate preference; enclosed spaces were bad for the health of someone in his profession.

  “Decker,” he said when he reached the room, but only after giving the hall one last glance.

  The room was the most basic of a typical hotel. He’d been in so many by now that he could close his eyes and still find everything of consequence. The only thing that didn’t belong was a pad in the center of the floor. That, however, was expected, so he paid it no mind. He instead went about surveying the room. He always arrived early specifically for that purpose. Surprises never involved clowns or good cheer, in his experience. But the room appeared clear, so he waited.