Mutant Star (17 page)

The tiny matchbox houses below. How puny. He felt as if he could scatter the buildings with one kick. One kick. High above him he saw the blink of airline lights. Should he float up there and give the pilot a scare? Fear gave way to intoxication as Rick soared through the nighttime sky. He came to rest atop a three-story condominium. Then he pushed off, up and out, into the dark air again. Laughing, he leaned back and somersaulted in midair.

It was fun! Being a mutant was fun. That was the secret they’d all tried to keep from him. But now he knew it.

The moon was a cold white marble above. The yellow lights of the houses glowed below. He swooped down until he was eye level with the street lamps, then dashed away up and out until he could see the distant glow of downtown Denver with its winter domes and forced-air walkways: a city defending itself against a climate that Rick didn’t even feel.

It was more than fun to be a mutant. It was better: better than being normal. He knew that, now, too.

Eventually he grew tired of the cold and dark. The party beckoned below: warm lights, good food. He was ready to make chitchat now, eager, even, to be sociable. He landed easily, gracefully, on the walk leading up to the main house. Right in front of Ethan Hawkins.

“I came out for a little fresh air myself,” Hawkins said. He regarded Rick thoughtfully. “That was quite a display of telekinesis. Especially for a dysfunctional mutant. I thought nulls couldn’t fly.”

Rick’s cheeks grew hot. Hawkins had literally caught him in midair. “I guess there’ve been a few changes made since I saw you.” He started to walk past Hawkins into the house.

“Wait …”

Rick spun on his heel. “Why, Colonel? Am I suddenly more interesting? As long as I have a few powers, you’d like to talk to me? Would you care to see a few levitation tricks? Perhaps you’d like me to fly you to the Moon?” His smile sharpened into a near grimace. He hadn’t realized until now just how angered he’d been by Hawkins’s snub at the Mutant Council meeting.

Hawkins held up his hands. “I never meant to offend, Rick. If I did, I’m truly sorry. And I remind you that I invited you to visit me. I meant it. And I’ll go a step further. How’d you like a job?”

“I’ve got a job.”

“I’ll pay you triple your salary.”

“You don’t know what I make. What I do.”

“I don’t care.” Hawkins’s eyes gleamed. “I need powerful telekinetics to build my new pavilion. Right away. If you’re game, I promise you an adventure you won’t forget.”

Rick hesitated. Hawkins thought he was some kind of magical mutant. But what if these powers were temporary? What if he woke up tomorrow, a regular null again?

Hawkins grasped his shoulder. “Space, Rick. The future of humankind. You were interested before. Say you’re interested now.”

Rick could read the ferocious ambition in the man’s mind. And he could see the image of that space station, spinning in the great vacuum. But he had hardly had a chance to get acquainted with his new skills, much less commit them to someone else’s use. And he was too proud, too confused, to jump at Hawkins’s offer. “I don’t think so, Colonel.”

Hawkins’s grip tightened. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Perhaps.” Rick brushed Hawkins’s hand away. “But I’ve got business to attend to here.” He wanted to see Alanna, suddenly. Had to see her, as soon as possible.

“Don’t play games, Rick. Say the word. I’ll get you clearance on any Moon shuttle.”

Rick wavered. He could make enough money on this job to buy a place for him and Alanna. Without any help from her parents. But no, he couldn’t just cave in this way. Wouldn’t. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long,” Hawkins said. He glanced toward the open door. “Well, I’d better get back to your aunt’s party. Join me?”

“In a little while. You go ahead.” Rick watched Hawkins move confidently into the crowd. He wanted to like him, to trust him, but Hawkins’s arrogance got in the way. To him mutants were just a freakish labor pool.

Rick took a step toward the door but he was driven back by the party noise: chatter and music swirled around him, echoing oddly. The room was too brightly lit and full of strangers. He wanted to be alone, away from here. Coming to Denver was a mistake.

He turned his back on the warmth and noise, hurried to his room, and turned on the messagescreen.

“Kelly,” he said. “Michael. Look, I’m sorry to leave so soon. Your party was infinite. Unsurpassed, really. Thanks for inviting me.” He paused, wanting to say more, to explain, somehow. “I needed the break. Guess you’ll think I’m nuts leaving so soon. Maybe I am. But I’ve got to get back. So thanks again. Bye, Mari.”

Rick shut the screen down. Grabbed his gear. Outside, he hesitated for a moment. No cycle. He couldn’t borrow a skimmer. It was too late for a taxi. What the hell. Denver was south. He’d find it, somehow. He shouldered his bag and stepped up into the cool air.

***

The morning sky was gray and overcast, dense with fog. The sun cast murky, diffused light through the lab windows. Inside, Julian gazed blearily at the figures marching across his screen, trying to comprehend them.

Ten flare rides. Eight sightings of his brother.

What did it mean?

Julian had checked the reports of the other flare riders but found nothing unusual, nothing to support his data, no sign of Rick.

His screen clock chimed softly. Ten-thirty. He was due to go on-shift. Time to saddle up.

When he got to the lab, Julian found Tom Cole hurrying down the hall. Cole usually took the first shift in the morning.

“Tom,” Julian said. “How’d the ride go?”

Cole’s golden eyes looked bleary. “Not bad. A quick image here, a quick image there.”

“Anything memorable?”

“A woman walking across a hallway. And then, a spaceplane crashing. But nothing to peg it to.” Cole shook his head. “I’m beat. See you around.”

Julian put on his lab coat and peered into the test area. Karla Rogers was already asleep on her couch, snoring gently. Rogers was a tall, spare, gray-haired mutant in her fifties. He had only been paired with her once before.

Julian hooked himself up, placing the microphone at a comfortable angle.

Relax, he thought. Your hands are trembling. You’re a scientist. He took a deep breath and plunged directly into the heart of a nightmare.

A hot wind howled through the ragged canyons of an anonymous city. Ragged figures shambled across the dark landscape, lit only by flickering yellow flames. In and out of the dancing shadows moved gray, desperate faces. Eyes glazed with misery and pain, the people staggered and fell, crouched whimpering in skeletal doorways, ran screaming in wordless hysteria. A row of buildings burned out of control. Perhaps the entire city was aflame. Here, a child cried uncontrollably, and in the distance, a woman was shrieking. But overriding all sounds was a high, fierce, maniacal laughter. It came from a man perched like some oversized gnome upon a purple-black mushroom cloud. Skerry? No. The face shifted. It was Narlydda. Alanna. Rick.

Rick, yes.

He was walking. His arms were manacled behind his back and he was being forced to march toward a building with barred windows. Surrounded by men in military uniforms. Kicking and punching, they shoved him into a cell and bolted the door. He sank to his knees, howling like a wild beast. His voice was hoarse, ragged, and still he screamed. Then he began to slam his head against the hard boards of the door. Julian flinched each time he did it.

“Alanna,” Rick cried. Blood masked his face in jagged patterns. A gory jack-o’-lantern. “Alanna.”

Julian tore the headset and mike away. His back was drenched with sweat.

“Julian?” Eva’s voice was a faint whisper from the earphones. “What’s wrong?”

A moment later she was kneeling beside him, holding his hand, listening as he told her, voice choked, what he had seen.

“This recurrence of your brother’s image,” Eva said. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

“What you mean is you don’t think I’m being objective enough,” Julian said. “You think I’m skewing the results. Being too emotional.”

“Calm down.” Her voice was gentle. “I just think you may be more impressionable than other riders. Maybe it’s time for you to sit behind the desk awhile and let somebody else do the riding.”

“Dammit, Eva. Why can’t you see that there’s something strange going on surrounding my brother? I’ve had horrendous visions of him: scenes of war and madness.”

“Even if any of these are right, we’re not here to prophesy your brother’s future,” Eva said. “We’re here to document the content of each flare. Regardless of what it means.”

“And if I can’t do it without getting concerned, I’m invited to get off the couch?”

“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way.”

Julian stared at her in fury. Nothing came before the program with Eva. Not her private life. Certainly not their love affair.

“Perhaps you should take a break,” she said. Her tone was soft, persuasive. “We have other riders. Ever since Ethan Hawkins came to visit you’ve been, well, grim.”

“Coincidence. You know I couldn’t stay away. From the lab. From you.”

“Who said anything about staying away from me? I thought maybe just some time off to rest your mind …”

“No!” He couldn’t stop now.

“Then go for a walk. Get a little exercise.” She took him by the shoulder, shook him gently. “I think you need a vacation. But I won’t order you off the program. Not yet.” She glanced down at her watch. “Look, I’m due at a department meeting. See you tonight?”

“Sure.”

She was already out the door.

Julian leaned over Eva’s deskscreen and pressed Rick’s phone code.

A flat, metallic voice announced: “Circuit is busy, repeat, circuit is busy. Try call later.”

Shit. That was no help. Where was Rick? Julian couldn’t help feeling that his brother was in serious trouble. Twinsense told him so. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He glanced at the clock. There was time for another flare ride. Eva was wrong. Julian didn’t need a vacation. He needed answers.

He fitted himself into the headset and microphone. Sank into the flare connection. And watched his brother, dressed in a blue pressure suit, pace along a corridor toward a transparent wall. On the other side of the glass, Julian could see the enormous blue curve of the Earth against the backdrop of space and stars. The image hung before him for a moment before disintegrating into a hundred buzzing particles. Julian paused a moment. No other image came to him. He removed the headset.

“Record,” he said.

“Recording,” replied the lab screen.

“Eleven-fifteen. Akimura. Flare ride. A mutant male, approximate age late twenties, in pressure suit, apparently in space. Walking toward window through which planet Earth can be seen. Approximate span of vision: twenty seconds.”

“Further recording?”

“No.”

The screen clicked off.

Julian stood up. If he reported seeing Rick again, he’d be off the couch. But he’d told the truth, hadn’t he? Just omitted one detail. This strange coincidence wouldn’t last. He wouldn’t have to do this very often.

***

Rick parked his cycle in front of the house. He had tried calling Alanna from the road. No answer. Well, he would phone her as soon as he was upstairs.

“Aki.”

Henley was sitting inside. He looked paler than usual, and even more anxious.

“Henley, how goes it?”

“Not too well. You see, Akimura, we’ve got a little problem we wanted to talk to you about.”

“We?”

“Everybody in the house.”

“And you’re the designated representative. How democratic.”

“Step goofing around, Ak. We need to talk.”

“So talk.” Rick leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Henley began to fidget uncomfortably. “Well, we, I mean they … aw, hell, Ak, you’ve got to leave.”

“What? Who says?”

“We all do.”

“Even you, Henley?”

Henley nodded slowly. “Even me. Come on, Ak, this isn’t where you belong. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Those mutant stunts you pulled. At the Zeitgeist. And here. I mean, I’m grateful for your saving me from the breen and all, but it’s just started to be too much. Even Shoggie complained to me. It’s—it’s scary, Rick. Weird. You’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”

Henley sounded embarrassed as he said it, but Rick saw there was no chance of appeal. Henley told him that Tuli—his old cycling pal, Tuli—had wanted to throw his stuff out the window and change the locks. As if that would have done any good.

“And if I refuse?”

Henley stared at him, mouth open. There was real terror in his eyes. It hurt Rick to see it.

“Relax,” he said. “Just kidding. I’ll get my stuff together and be out of here by tomorrow.”

“Tonight,” Henley said, his voice almost a whisper. “You’ve got to leave by tonight.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” Rick demanded. “Is that fair? You know what housing’s like. Jesus, Henley, there’s a three-week wait at every housing kiosk in northern California. Be reasonable.”