Mutant Star (4 page)

“Listen, munchkin,” Skerry said. “Either carry your side, or put it down and let me find a telekinetic who can keep her mind on the job.”

“Sorry.”

Together they eased the huge piece up against the wall behind the Book Keeper’s platform.

“Whew.” Her father wiped his brow. “Me for a red jack, if they keep such old-fashioned refreshments around. A word of advice, kiddo: Don’t get old. It plays hell with your endurance.” He tweaked her on the chin and shouldered his way toward the bar.

A noble-looking black man entered the room, a non-mutant, with such arrogance of carriage that Alanna wanted to stick her tongue out at him. Who did he think he was? Just the type her father loved to needle for the fun of it. But her father was nowhere to be seen. Aunt Melanie was talking to the strange man eagerly. And there went Vincent Guindelle to greet him. Guindelle the politician, her mother called him in her dry, sarcastic voice. But Alanna didn’t see anything wrong with politicians. They got things done, didn’t they? Bursting with curiosity, she moved closer to the group around the newcomer.

***

Ethan Hawkins had been admiring the meeting hall when Melanie Akimura corralled him. She was a dark-haired, middle-aged woman, chic in a red bodysuit and plum-colored high heels.

“Very impressive,” he said. “You have a neat little headquarters here in Marin.” Now if only you are half as visionary as I hope, he thought.

“One of several,” she said. “The West Coast Council group is still considered a bit radical by our more conservative members—and by the East Coast Council. We’re the only ones to allow nonmutants to attend the meetings.”

“I admit, I was surprised to see so many nonmutants here.” Hawkins scanned the room, pausing as his eye fell upon a familiar-looking Japanese man with long, graying hair.

Melanie followed his gaze. “My husband, Yosh. You may remember him. Of course, the last time you met, he wasn’t my husband. Yet.”

“How could I forget?” Hawkins fumbled. “That strange crew of you all waiting on Emory’s factory under that ruptured E-Dome. I still wonder how you survived.”

“Me, too.” Yosh shook his hand. “But I’ve made it a policy to stay away from pressure domes since then.”

A stout, middle-aged man with ruddy cheeks, thick white hair, and bright golden eyes came bustling up.

“Meet Vincent Guindelle, interim Book Keeper,” Melanie said.

“Colonel Hawkins. Good to see you. Your request was a bit sudden. We can’t always accommodate last-minute speakers.”

Hawkins turned on his suavest smile. “Thank goodness you allowed me in. The future of the L-5 movement may depend on it.”

Guindelle’s eyebrows shot upward. “Indeed? Well, I’m certain you’ll tell us all about it.”

The roar of a jet cycle echoed into the meeting chambers and cut off abruptly.

“That must be Rick and Julian,” Yosh said. “Our twin sons. Now, perhaps, Melanie will finally relax.”

A minute later two young men hurried into the room. They were fraternal twins, Hawkins saw, one dark, one light. And both with those bright, glittering gold eyes, the mark of mutancy.

“It’s about time,” Melanie said. “Excuse me.” She hurried to the door and received a kiss from each young man.

Hawkins watched with interest. He had thought that the mutant gene was recessive. How had Melanie managed mutant twins? Her nonmutant husband, Yosh, was clearly Japanese, while she seemed to have some Asian heritage. But neither son showed the faintest sign of this legacy. In fact, one of them was blond. Peculiar. Most peculiar. But no matter. Mutant family ties were notoriously tight. And the mutant young came equipped with all sorts of useful skills. Yes, he would certainly reacquaint himself with this family.

“Rick, Julian, come meet the man who saved your parents’ lives,” Melanie said. “This is Colonel Hawkins. He was one of the shuttle pilots who brought your father and me down from the Emory factory, along with Skerry and Narlydda.”

The twins stared at each other for a moment as though sharing a private joke. Then the tall, blond-haired young man turned to eye Hawkins coolly. “You’ve become part of the family legend, Colonel. I’m glad to meet you.”

“Ditto,” said Rick, the dark-haired, muscular one.

“And I you.” Hawkins pumped their hands in turn. “I’d like to invite you all to come visit me up on Hawkins’s Pavilion.”

“Your orbital pleasure dome?” Melanie smiled slyly. “Don’t forget that I work for Cable News, Colonel, and you’ve agreed to an interview.”

“How could I forget? And I promise you a tough interview, Melanie. But I hope you’ll bring your family along.”

“Mom, you swore you’d never go into orbit again,” Rick said.

“That was before Colonel Hawkins agreed to go on-camera.”

“Come to meeting!” Vincent Guindelle called. “All gather for meeting.”

“We’ll talk later,” Melanie said. “Why don’t you take a seat by Vincent onstage. He’ll introduce you.”

The room quieted. Youngsters who had been levitating settled slowly to the ground. Impromptu discussions tapered off. In groups of twos and threes clan members and nonmutants drifted toward seats, until the auditorium was full. At least a hundred people were present, two thirds of them mutants.

“Please join with me now,” Guindelle intoned. “Take hands, please. Take heart. All here are welcome.”

And he lifted a giant book into place and began to read:

***

“And when we knew ourselves to be different,

To be mutant and therefore other,

We took ourselves away,

Sequestered that portion of us most other,

And so turned a bland face to the blind eyes

Of the world.

Formed our community in silence, in hiding,

Offered love and sharing to one another,

And waited until a better time.

A cycle in which we might share

Beyond our circle.

We are still waiting.”

***

From within the crowd, a male voice piped up. “May the wait soon be over.”

The wait? Hawkins wondered. What wait?

“Join with us now and share,” Guindelle said, shutting his eyes.

Hawkins felt himself swept, unwillingly, into a fantastic communion. A hundred souls swirled around him, each intent upon matters of personal importance, each muttering and counting, singing and sighing, a chorus in his brain, a swelling, soaring melody that carried him upward and out of himself, beyond his own private concerns into a warmth he had never dreamed existed, a comfort deeper than that of a mother’s arms. No wonder, he thought. No wonder so many sought out the mutants. For warmth. For solace. Yes. He closed his eyes and soared.

***

Reluctantly, Julian came out of the sharing and opened his eyes. Back out in the cold again. He blinked. Around the room, his relatives, his clan members, and all the assembled strangers stirred sluggishly as the communal awareness receded.

A sharp pain in his side jolted him. Rick was elbowing him.

“Who is that?”

“Who?”

“The girl with all that hair sitting next to Uncle Skerry,” Rick whispered.

Julian saw her for the first time. A tall, slender, young woman with high cheekbones, full lips, and a wild mane of black, curling hair. Delicate, pale skin with just a hint of green to it. Pretty. More than pretty, really.

“I think that’s Alanna.”

“No lie? Skerry and Narlydda’s kid?” Rick’s mouth hung open for a moment. “I remember her as a spoiled brat.”

“That was three years ago,” Julian said. “You haven’t exactly been a regular at these meetings, you know. But I think she’s probably still pretty spoiled.”

“She’s gorgeous!”

“Thought you didn’t go for mutant girls,” Julian said, and felt an odd twinge of jealousy. Well, she
was
beautiful. And Julian didn’t share his brother’s bias against mutant women.

“Always room for change,” Rick said. He started to get up, intent on Alanna, but Vincent Guindelle fixed him with a sharp look until he sat down again.

“We’ll open the business part of the meeting by welcoming Colonel Ethan Hawkins,” Guindelle said. “He’s requested the opportunity to make a presentation concerning space colonization, specifically, the system of L-5 satellites.”

Hawkins rose. He smiled briefly, taking in the assembled group. “Thank you, Vincent.” His voice was deep and melodious. “I’m very grateful for this chance to talk with you. As some of you may know, I’ve made a specialty of space—exploration, development, colonization.”

“How do you ‘develop’ space?” Rick said, sotto voce.

Shhhh.

Julian didn’t want to be distracted. This Hawkins had a magnetic personality, and he seemed deeply, deeply serious.

“I believe the future of humanity lies in space,” Hawkins was saying. “And I’m devoting all of my time to making that belief come true. We can be twice as productive, twice as innovative. Already three satellite colonies are in orbit and we have plans for three more. I ask you to consider joining with me in the push to space. I appeal to those of you with an adventurous spirit and belief in the future.” He held out his hands to the group assembled in the Council chamber. “Join with me. Together we can be so very much more than we are separately. We can achieve a larger goal, a common good. Provide a legacy for future generations. I have no patience with pessimists who say that space is a vacuum, fit only for hobbyists and scientists.” Here his voice grew deeper. His eyes flashed. “I believe it will yield nothing less than the renaissance of the human spirit, of human achievement. But only if we work toward that goal. Together.”

Stirring words, Julian thought. Why come to us, though? What good would mutants do in space? There was so much that needed to be done right here on Earth. Why run away to space?

“Once before, we hesitated, and almost lost our legacy of space. Small minds and fears held sway,” Hawkins went on. “We must never allow that to happen again.”

All around the hall heads were nodding agreement. Julian watched, fascinated. Even Rick, the eternal skeptic, seemed swayed by Hawkins’s rhetoric. Julian wanted to kick him. Hawkins was hypnotic, all right. But he obviously had some private agenda, one that required mutant assistance.

“There is great opportunity for contribution, for participation. Particularly on the part of mutants,” Hawkins said.

Here it comes, Julian thought. The pitch.

“The well-known talents of your telekinetics are of inestimable worth in vacuum engineering. Your telepaths and multitalents may become the centers of communication and transport networks.

“And, need I mention, the compensation for this is considerable. Salaries off-world are two to three times those of Earthbound compensation.”

Julian saw a few frowns interspersed between the nods and smiles in the audience. Hawkins had hit a few nerves. So many people had private agendas for the mutants. So many lobbyists and greed-heads, government agents and generals. Please levitate this little suborbital nuclear device for us, please read this foreign leader’s mind, please set fire to this abandoned tenement for insurance purposes, please, please, please work your strange, wonderful mutant magic for us. Almost every Council meeting had featured some petitioner or other. But few had been as persuasive as Hawkins. If Julian hadn’t already committed his talents to the labs at Berkeley he might have been tempted to sign up with Hawkins. But he doubted it.

***

Skerry watched Hawkins make his pitch with thinly disguised contempt. He remembered Hawkins as a starchy space ace, filled with the wonder of the void and all that jazz. Interesting, he thought, to see he hadn’t wavered over the years. But he was just another guy with his hat in his hand, begging for a little mutant involvement. Ask not what you can do for us, but what we can do for you. And isn’t Guindelle just eating it all up? Years ago on the East Coast, when Halden was Book Keeper, if someone like Hawkins had shown up at a Council meeting, Halden would have laughed him right out of there. And here in the West, Bekah Terling would never have allowed him in at all. But it’s the new Mutant Council now, and everybody’s welcome. Anything goes. I don’t mind that part, but I hate being panhandled by normals just so I can make their lives easier.

He glanced over at Alanna and saw that his daughter was riveted to Hawkins’s every word.

Uh-oh. Bad sign there. Alanna was just impressionable enough to sign on for the next floating colony. And no daughter of his was going into orbit, not if he had anything to say about it.

“You look like a thundercloud,” Narlydda whispered.

I feel like one. Who needs these damned pitchmen coming in to steal our young?

“Steal our young?” Narlydda repeated his mind-speech aloud, staring at him as though she doubted his sanity. “I thought you liked Hawkins. You were certainly glad to see him, once upon a time.”

That was once upon a time.

Around them, people stirred. At least one telepath politely suggested that they keep their discussion private.