Mutant Star (13 page)

“Let me at least set down my bowl.”

She pushed the dishes to the far side of the table. Then she turned to him. Her cheeks glowed. Julian kissed her again, and together they sank down on the pillows. He found that her silk wrap came apart in very interesting ways. Her skin was satiny, lustrous. He savored the feel of her. Eva smiled as he ran his hand gently down her hip and she bent gracefully to work on the seals of his pants. In minutes they lay together, naked.

He touched more boldly now. She was soft, so soft, in his arms. For a moment, he was tempted to take a telepathic peek and learn her erotic preferences. But trial and error had its appeal, too. He was making very little error, apparently. Eva sighed as he inched his way down her body. He explored her with meticulous patience until she was begging him to hurry, hurry. But he would not be hurried.

“Please.” She was trembling.

Not yet, he thought.

Eva panted beneath him. “Please, Julian.”

Still he lingered, until she seemed more than ready. Then, with his own pulse roaring in his ears, he entered her.

Eva gasped and he reined back his own climax until he was certain her moment had come. As she crested, he joined her, his cries mingling with her own.

But when they were finished, nestled cheek to cheek, he had a sense of frustration. Incompleteness. Somehow, he knew, it had not been the transcendent moment he’d hoped for. Pleasant, yes. But not bonding. He’d seen erotic fire in her eyes. Yet he wanted more.

“I’ve never made love with a mutant man before,” Eva said. “For that matter, I’ve never slept with a younger man before.” She ran her hand along his chest, abdomen, and lower. “One nice thing—I see you’re quick to recover.”

“Is that the only nice thing?”

Her eyes glittered. “I’ll let you know later.”

To his amazement, she had him hard, ready within minutes. He gasped under her touch. And when she stopped stroking him, he opened his eyes, ready to protest.

She was leaning on an elbow, staring at him.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“I’m breaking a lot of personal rules here.”

“Hell of a time to mention it.”

“You’re a colleague—somebody I supervise. And you’re ten years younger than I am.”

“Look,” he said desperately. “It really doesn’t bother me. In fact, I like it.” But he could sense her drawing back and away. How to show her what he felt for her? He’d hoped that sex would do it. Then, suddenly, he knew.

He put his hand against the back of her neck and drew her close. “Shut your eyes.”

Eva went rigid in his arms. “No, Julian. Stop!”

“Don’t be afraid. This won’t hurt.”

“I don’t want—”

Hush
. Gently, carefully, he forged a telepathic bridge between them.

She was open to him now. He could probe every corner of her, every memory. Every desire. But he didn’t want that. Not yet. Instead, he opened the door to his own mind and beckoned her to enter. When she hesitated on the threshold, he pulled her in.

Here I am
, he thought.
Know me
.

Know what it was like to grow up as a mutant in a family of nulls and nonmutants. To learn to live with a foot in either world, always precariously balanced. To love science. How I’ve come to respect you, Eva. To love you.

He showed her how she glowed in his mind like a precious icon.

“Is that me?”

Uh-huh.

“But I look like a saint from an illuminated manuscript. Or some angel on top of a Christmas tree.”

Yes
.

“Oh, Julian.” Her voice had a strange tone and she seemed to be both laughing and crying. “I’m not anything like that woman.”

Then show me who you are.

“I’m afraid.”

I love you. I want to know you better.

“What if you don’t like me afterward?”

No chance of that. We’re not exactly strangers.

“No. That’s true.” She hesitated. “All right.”

And he went into her mind. Saw the harsh childhood deprivations that had forged such determination. Such self-protection. Moats and drawbridges. Spiked walls. Saw, too, her humor, her whimsy. Her sorrow: a husband. A pregnancy terminated. A divorce.

I didn’t know
.

“I told you.” The pain was thick in her voice and in her mind.

Julian held her close and kissed her until the pain faded and in its place an erotic pattern crystallized. He could see it as clearly as though it had been tattooed upon her skin. Of course. Of course.

She quivered as he touched her. “Julian, we’re still linked.”

Yes. I thought it would be better this way
.

She gasped. “I can feel what you feel.”

And I, you
.

He traced the patterns of her desire.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

Her response reverberated through his skin in an odd feedback buzz that gave the act hallucinatory overtones. His hands and lips left glowing trails on her body. Eva vibrated with him in the link, every nerve alive, the beating of her heart loud and building. Julian saw how to prolong her slow climb, and knew she was riding his thoughts, looking through his eyes and her own. Then she was moving, running, he was racing to catch up, and as she came, he was Eva, crying out, and she was Julian, urging them both onward. Each the other, connected in urgent, timeless pleasure.

Spent finally, and still linked, they sank into sweet lethargy.

“Amazing,” she whispered.

Yes. Sleep now
.

Their dreams mingled, golden and pleasant. Near dawn, Julian awoke. Eva was still asleep beside him. When he removed the telepathic linkage, she opened her eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Almost five.”

“Oh. Good. We still have time, then.” She curled against him.

He grew hard immediately.

“My goodness,” Eva said. “You’re certainly glad to see me.”

“I’m a little surprised,” Julian said.

“And I’m learning not to be.” She turned to him, fully awake, and straddled him. “What other mutant tricks do you have up your … sleeve?”

“If I were telekinetic, I could levitate us a foot over the bed,” Julian said.

“But you’re not, are you?” she asked nervously.

“No. Relax, we’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”

***

At nine forty-five that morning, Ethan Hawkins stood outside the Berkeley experimental psychology lab with Farnam and Hugh Dalheim, head of the psychology department at Berkeley.

Dalheim was tall and round-shouldered. He had gray hair, gray eyes, and the skin of his face was heavily lined.

“I’m sorry for the delay, Colonel,” he said. “Dr. Seguy is usually very punctual.”

“I hope so,” Hawkins said. He paced the length of the corridor, Farnam and Dalheim trailing behind him. “I’ll give her another five minutes.”

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.