Dark Genesis: The Birth of the Psi Corps (15 page)

“Really what?”

“I really don’t think you know what you’re getting into, with me.”

Her smile went away, and her gaze crystallized on his.

“I’m very good with secrets, Mr. Vacit,” she whispered. “Very, very good with secrets.”

“You’d better be,” he murmured, drawing her near, and gently pushing shut the door.

CHAPTER 6

Beyond the straining oaks, a blue-white crack split the mottled, eggshell sky. It mended itself faster than the eye could blink. Over the wet spattering of marble-sized raindrops, a stuttering tearing sound shuddered the air. Lee Crawford breathed deeply of the wind from the condensing storm, watching a canopy that was like some great cathedral made of a hundred variegated marbles, grey, black, milk, dark green, not still, but constantly grinding, sluggishly.

“Nothin’ like a thunderstorm, by damn,” he murmured. The wind whipped a spray of rain in under the eaves, and he gasped in pleasure as it flecked his face. The earth trembled as the sky hammered it somewhere not far away. When the downpour truly came, it was less interesting just a steady roar, with no sky to see-so he went back inside. This part of the storm was best enjoyed through the tattoo it beat on the roof. He poured a tumbler of bourbon, savored its sharp, heady smoke, and stepped into the drawing room. It felt like he had pins in his knees and back. His body ached all the time-never with great pain, just all the time. Kevin was there in the study, shuffling stacks of books and two monitors.

“How’s it looking?” Lee asked.

Kevin glanced up.

“It’s been better, Lee.” Kevin’s hair had as much iron as ebony these days, but for an instant he looked to Lee as when he had first seen him, boyishly serious.

“Well. We’ve seen this before, haven’t we?”

“Yes, we have. But there’s no stopping the hearings this time. And this time they have the goods, I’m afraid. The Chiapas incident made too big a splash. Japan, the Indonesian Consortium, Amazonia, and New Zealand are all threatening to pull out of the EA if President Robinson pushes further for a universal MRA.”

“It’s just an excuse,” Lee muttered. “The EA is hanging together by a thread anyway. Teeps are just one issue.”

“That’s true, but-do you remember the American Civil War?”

Lee rolled his eyes and waved his hands around at his mid-twenty-first-century antebellum revival house.

“What do you think?” he snapped sarcastically.

Kevin chuckled.

“I forgot where I was. Then you may remember that the war was brought about by a whole complex group of economic and social issues—hut it was the moral issue of slavery that proved to be its focus. It’s the same here-give the people something they can hang on to. You’re right-the Earth Alliance is trying to tear itself apart for a thousand reasons, but the Chiapas incident has given it a popular voice. You have to admit, a hundred rogues dying, singing in a church, while our officers stood outside-“

“It’s not like we set the damn fire.” Lee sighed. “Damn psychopathic martyrs.”

“But the perception that they would rather die than be regulated by the Authority, that’s the point. People generally like martyrs.”

“Don’t they,” Lee said, taking another sip. “Even if it means letting the world go to hell in a handbasket.” Thunder growled in the distance-the heaviest of the rain had already passed. The evening would be nice-damp, whippoorwills . He could fall asleep on the porch, rest … He sighed and stood. “Vacation’s over, Kevin. Call the airstrip and tell them we want to leave within the hour.”

Kevin nodded.

“It’s already done,” he said. “And Shell is waiting upstairs to help you pack.”

“Good.” He paused. “Kevin?”

“Yes, Lee?”

“Why are you still with me?”

Kevin frowned.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A sensible one. Everyone else is gone. Alice. Tom. Those that didn’t leave me are dead. You could’ve-hell, after that thing back in ‘43 you could have run for office yourself-yet thirteen years later, you’re still workin’ for me.”

“And you could have run for president ten times and won. Why didn’t you?”

Lee smiled. “And take a demotion?”

Kevin returned the grin.

“And now you have my answer. Besides that ” He looked down at the table, then back at Lee. “Besides that, I’m proud to work with you, Lee.”

Lee felt his eyes growing moist. Damn, but he was a sentimental old fool. Was this what the fast signs of senility were like?

“I’m proud to have you with me, son. I can’t even say how proud.”

Shell Alexander flashed him a smile as he entered the room. She was placing his suits in a hanging bag. As with Kevin, he was stunned by a moment of dej`a vu. It could have been Blood standing there. But Shell was not Blood, and on second glance didn’t even look much like her. Her thick tresses were brown rather than midnight, her skin pale. Her eyebrows flirted with being red, and her chin was longer and narrower than her grandmother’s, tapered. No, Shell resembled Blood in much less tangible ways. The set of her stance, the flicker in her eyes, the way her hands moved. Like many in the “kith” of the Authority, she had kept her grandmother’s name, as well. Mitochondrial descent, they called it.

“Hi, Uncle Lee.”

“Afternoon, Shell. I’m sorry to have to ruin your day like this. I know it’s goin’ to be a terrible thing to have to see your fiance back in Geneva.”

She shrugged.

“He’s okay. They certainly could have picked someone worse for me to marry.”

“I thought you fancied him. Michelle, just say the words, and I’ll=’

“Hush, Uncle Lee. No. I don’t want special treatment. My grandmother wouldn’t have wanted that, nor my mother. I’m her daughter, and I’ll set a good example.”

Lee patted her shoulder.

“You’re a fine woman, Shell. A credit to your mother and her mother. You should be proud to bear their name.*

“I am,” Shell replied. “Now. Do you want all of these suits, or just “

She was cut off by an inarticulate yell from below. For an instant, Lee felt his blood freeze. There hadn’t been an attempt on his life in years, but–

“No, it’s okay,” Shell said. “It’s just Kevin. He’s excited about something. I can’t…”

She trailed off as Kevin burst into view. He was grinning like a cat, something Kevin rarely did.

“Senator, you better get downstairs. You aren’t going to believe it. You really aren’t.” He put the image up for the tenth time.

“I knew they were there,” Lee whispered. “By God, I knew they were there.”

“That ship must be a kilometer long. At least.”

“Where are they from?”

“We don’t know. The guess going around is Proxima Centauri.”

Lee nodded. His eyes felt damp.

“Damned if I didn’t do it. I lived to see it. The most important day in the history of humanity.” He looked around at Kevin, Shell, the rest of his staff. “Remember this moment. Tell your children about it. Nothin’ will ever be the same again.”

Matthieson, G. “The Alien Within, the Alien Without: Rethinking the MRA.” In Comprehensive Modern History: An Anthology. Teller, Brahe, and Asanji, eds.

Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2210.

It is widely believed that the arrival of the Centauri saved the Earth Alliance from collapse, for on April 6, 2156, differences between the key nation-states seemed irreconcilable. By the evening of April 7, however, mankind had begun to unite in a way unknown in Human history. The differences between Arab and Israeli, Malay and Chinese, Japanese and Gaijin were suddenly understood as superficial and trivial in the face of the true unknown, the Centauri. Some may claim this overstates the case—after all, there are still social, religious, and status conflicts on Earth that sometimes turn violent. The true student of history, however, can see the difference. In 2156, a clear line was drawn that has never been crossed since-with one salient exception. Out of all humanity, one group was suddenly elevated to a new status of persecution. When it was discovered that the Centauri-and the other alien races they spoke of-also had telepaths, many on Earth suddenly suspected Human telepaths of being part of some sinister alien design, perhaps of being aliens themselves. Suspected of acting as spies, saboteurs, and agents of cultural subversion, telepaths were once again subjected to levels of violence not seen since the horrific year of 2115. Then a countering sentiment arose-that if aliens had telepaths, Earth most certainly needed them, too. This logic prevailed in the end, but only after much bitter loss of life.

President Elizabeth Robinson was not a physically big woman, but an immense sense of presence radiated from her steel-grey eyes. Her squarish, ebony face had character to spare, more so in person than what was portrayed on the nets.

“Senator Crawford, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

“The pleasure is most certainly all mine, Madam President,” Lee said. “Please, have a seat. Coffee?”

“Please.” She signed, and a man brought them each a cup.

“Well, first, let’s congratulate ourselves, shall we? I know you’ve worked for the formation of a universal registration and an independently chartered MRA since before I was bom. Today, you got your wish.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your help.” She shrugged. “Thank William Karges for saving my life. Thank the Centauri for showing up. Thank the fates. After that, I’ll accept your thanks.” She took a sip of her coffee and set it down. She leaned back and peered at him over steepled fingers. “However , unlike those others, I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m inclined toward favors, Madam President. What do you need?”

“I’d like you to resign from the Senate.” He blinked, but could find no answer. He was still searching for one when she went on. “The charter for Psi Corps calls for its administrator to be appointed for life, by the president. I need you there. You have the know-how, the staff-you’ve been with the MRA since the beginning.”

He grinned.

“This won’t make you popular with some of the folks in the Senate.”

“This is my last term. The hell with them. You’re the man for the job.”

Lee pretended to muse for a moment.

“I wasn’t lookin’ forward to another campaign anyway. Madam President, if you want me, you’ve got me.”

“Perfect.”

“Madam President, I was wondering. .

“Senator?”

“I realize that access to the Centauri is still very limited. Even the Senate has not yet been allowed to meet one of them. But-I’m an old man. I’ve waited my whole life to meet a real, live alien. I wonder if I might have my wish indulged.”

She took up her coffee again.

“I think it a matter of the highest security that the head of EA Psi Corps meet with the Centauri ambassador to discuss the telepaths of both races. After all, our visitors claim we are their long-lost colony, don’t they?”

“You sound skeptical.”

“That would be putting it mildly. But-the first permanent ambassador will be here in a month. I think I can arrange a meeting within the first week.”

“Madam President, I will be eternally grateful.”

“I’m sorry you can’t come, Kevin.”

Kevin shrugged.

“It’s okay. I’m just concerned about security.”

“So are they, apparently. Your car can follow me to the compound , anyway. I doubt I’ll be long inside.”

“I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done. You can tell me all about it over a drink.”

“As if you would have one.” Lee started to get into the car, then turned back to face his aide. “I was damn sorry to hear about Ninon Davion, Kevin. I know you two were friends.”

Kevin nodded almost imperceptibly.

“She died doing her duty. She would have wanted that.”

“I feel sorry for the little girl.”

Kevin cleared his throat.

“Better get going, Senator.”

“Right. See you soon.” He ducked into the car.

A moment later, it began to move silently forward. He watched the streets of Geneva as they glided by. Buildings a thousand years old side by side with offices that looked as though they had been built yesterday. He thought about the books he had read as a child-the classic twentieth-and twenty-first-century novels. How many times had first contact been written about? How many times had the future been imagined? Sometimes you recognized that you were living in the future, and sometimes you did not. He had been the boy with the flashlight , standing beneath the stars, shining Morse code up, hoping it would be seen. He had traveled through time, eighty creaking years, to finally see what that boy dreamed of. In the end, time travel had hurt more than he ever imagined it would, but it was worth it. Worth the old bones, the shortness of breath. It was worth it because he had kept his eye on the prize. It was worth it because, by damn, his journey would be remembered.

The car did something strange; a sort of hiccup, and then another . He watched with incomprehension as the window he was staring out was suddenly mottled by snowflake designs, accompanied by a vague vibration but no sound. Then there was light, terrible, terrible light, and sound at last for an instant before his eardrums were gone. And then blackness. He awoke, probably a few seconds later, to pain like he had never imagined. One of his eyes didn’t seem to be working, but the other puzzled at what it saw for a few moments before recognizing blood, the sharp end of a bone sticking out of his thigh. His breath was sucking in his chest, which felt as if syrup were filling it up. Bastard, he thought. You bastard. He meant, as always, the universe. He lay there, as his breaths came shorter and shorter. Couldn’t they have waited another hour? Just another hour? He wondered where everyone was. Kendra, Alice, Tom, Blood, Shell-Kevin. He would like to see Kevin again. He would like to have seen a Centauri, damn it.

And then Kevin was there, bending over him. He tried to reach the boy’s face, wipe the tear from his eye, but his own blurred … He blinked, and a Centauri was there. He must have heard the explosion, come out of his compound to see what all of the fuss was about. He looked exactly like they had on the nets, hair swept back, face Human-and yet not. Sharp teeth.

“Got you, you bastard,” he told the universe. And he died.