The Light-Field (6 page)

‘That explains what I do.' Zeven decided to be right up-front about it. He drank some water, then poured some over his head.

‘You've got PK?' Mythric was stunned. ‘That's rare.'

Zeven nodded to acknowledge that he was aware of that.

‘Just space? Or have you mastered time and dimension as well?' Mythric queried, seeming rather more calm about the news than most people would be.

‘I've shifted through time and space, and I do believe into a different dimension on a few occasions … but I didn't really have any control in those instances.'

Mythric whistled to emphasise how impressed he was, and then raised both brows as he considered. ‘That explains a lot … like how you could know Hunzo's turbine is too powerful for his craft, or how you could have known the Timekeeper for years without me finding out.'

Zeven held his arms wide to concede he had nothing left to hide, and seated himself back on his bike. ‘So how about you, Mythric, what do you do?'

Mythric cocked an eye, surprised that Starman could be so up-front about his psychic skills. ‘Up until two weeks ago, nobody else in the galaxy even knew I had a Power.'

‘Nothing to be uptight about,' Zeven stated his view. ‘Pretty soon, it's going to be all the rage.'

Mythric found this amusing and probably slightly delusional. ‘Does it really matter what I do? I mean, you obviously have the power to re-arrange the universe, I can't even imagine why the Timekeeper bothered sending me.'

Zeven grinned. ‘Because she thinks I'm young, dumb and full of … myself, most of the time.' He rolled his eyes and drank some more.

‘You are aware that PK is a trait of the royal Phemorian line?' Mythric said.

‘Watch it, Mythric, you're heading toward that no-go topic again.'

‘Sorry.'

‘Besides, I'm not telling you my life story, if you're not going to share with the group,' Zeven chided. ‘I'll trust you, because the Timekeeper does, but it would be helpful to know what you're skilled at.'

‘I have many skills and they are all at your disposal,' Mythric granted.

‘But you're not going to tell me what they are?'

‘I can fly just about anything, I have extensive communication, navigation and weapons training, I've —'

‘I meant psychic skills, Mythric,' Zeven stated the obvious.

‘I have trust issues,' the older agent admitted openly. ‘Wait until you are my age and see how open you're willing to be. I've seen firsthand what they do to people like us.'

Due to their persecution in the past, there wasn't a psychic living who would openly admit to having a Power. So Zeven wasn't really surprised; he knew he was one of only a handful of psychics who had managed to outsmart the system, and that made Zeven braver than most. ‘Well, I've seen firsthand what
people like us
can accomplish when we band together. And believe me, not all the fear and loathing of the Powers in the United Systems will prevent the revolution that is coming.
However,
the last partner I had took five years to tell me he was telepathic, so —' He shrugged. ‘As long as you will use whatever your Power is, if needed,' Zeven reasoned, and Mythric nodded to confirm he would, ‘then I'm good with that.'

‘Agreed then.' Mythric was glad to have that settled. ‘And just in time for our pick-up.' He noted a government recon unit come round the corner of the canyon.

‘You think they're looking for us?' Zeven was surprised.

‘Put your hands above your heads and step away from the vehicles,'
a voice boomed out over the loudspeaker of the official vehicle.

The two men looked at each other and grinned as they climbed off the bikes and placed their hands on their heads.

‘First day here and already in trouble,' Mythric commented, obviously thinking this did not bode well for their future partnership.

Zeven was amused. ‘We're not in trouble … I'll handle this.'

‘Must you?' Mythric appealed.

Zeven served him a sideways glance that entreated Mythric to have a little faith.

The recon vessel came to hover in front of the renegades and did an about face. From the rear a ramp dropped down to the ground and Mr Hunzo emerged, accompanied by several armed agents. The agents had their weapons pointed at Zeven and Mythric as Hunzo rushed
over to check on his bikes. ‘Are you mad! These are the only two prototypes in existence, and they were not designed with abseiling in mind!'

‘They'll do that and so much more,' Zeven assured his supervisor.

‘How could you know that?' the man challenged.

‘It's my job to know, and to push every vehicle I drive to its absolute limit,' Zeven insisted. ‘Anselm didn't send me down here because he thought you'd enjoy my company, you realise.'

‘I'm starting to,' Hunzo agreed.

‘You ought to be thanking me.' Zeven dropped his arms, surrendering to reason. ‘I've just shown you that this has the potential to be so much more than just another cross-country vehicle. We're talking the extreme sports market here, which is far more lucrative and prestigious.'

Hunzo's temper subsided. ‘All well and good, but you could have gotten yourself killed, and destroyed the prototype.'

‘That's a job lot, Hunzo.' Zeven knocked Mythric's arms down to ‘at ease' as he moved off toward the recon unit. ‘Can we grab a lift back?'

Hunzo, still perturbed, waved them on.

‘Thanks, you're a lifesaver.' Zeven looked to Mythric, who seemed surprised as he walked alongside him. ‘I was wondering how we were going to get those bikes back up to the runway.'

Mythric grinned at him. ‘I feel sure you would have thought of something.'

‘Always do,' Zeven assured, as they headed up the ramp of the their ride back to base.

‘Rory, get up, we're late!'

The call to consciousness was painful, and so Aurora decided to ignore it — she was having an amazing dream.

‘
Rory
…
we're going to flunk …
If you don't get your arse out of bed and make it to class!'

Zanthie, Aurora's roommate on campus, had a booming voice, even when not at full volume. It cut through Rory's dream state and sped her back to consciousness via a rude awakening.

‘Go away,' Aurora objected and rolled away from her assailant. ‘I can't do study, class and the band anymore …'

‘Sure you can,' Zanthie insisted. ‘We just need to get our sleeping routine sorted.'

In her mind Rory was trying to home back in on her dream, but it was no use — she remembered it clearly, but she was not going to be able to return. ‘Ooooh!' She was aggravated, mainly due to a massive hangover. ‘You've been saying that for six months! If we haven't got the routine together by now, we're not likely to.'

‘But it's good money,' Zanthie appealed as she finished getting dressed.

‘My point exactly,' Rory wagered. ‘So why not skip the study and
make a living as a rock stars!' She stretched herself long across the bed — still dressed in the heavily belted leather mini-dress she'd worn on stage the night before. In fact, the entire dress was nothing more than several thick soft leather belts loosely strung together and buckled tight around her.

Zanthie appeared surprised at her. ‘We started the band so that we could afford to study, remember?'

‘Business Management and Communications sucks, Zanth!' Rory shoved a pillow over her head.

‘It won't suck when you run your own company and make more money than most singers dream of!' Zanthie pulled the pillow from Aurora's hands. ‘Get up!'

Aurora faked a crying fit. ‘Please, just for today, can I check your notes when you get back?'

‘No.' Zanthie put her foot down.

‘But I was having
the best dream ever
,' Aurora appealed and Zanthie changed her tune.

‘About who?'

‘No one we know.'

‘You're holding out on me, you know I can always tell.'

‘Look …' Aurora caved. ‘It was some guy I was reading about in the United Systems news a few weeks back. I don't know why I keep dreaming about him.'

‘Who is he?' Zanthie was intrigued.

Rory grinned, tickled by the thought. ‘Some hotshot pilot who went missing on Maladaan a few weeks back.'

‘Did they find him?' Zanthie gulped down the remains of her juice.

‘Well, that's the weird thing about it.' Aurora propped herself up on her elbows. ‘There's not even been a two-liner on the subject since, no word on the investigation.'

‘So, he was good looking, I assume?'

‘
Oh yeah
.' Aurora snuggled back into her bed to snooze. ‘So can I have a sick day now …
please?
'

Zanthie appeared torn about letting her friend get away with slacking off.

‘Look at me.' Aurora hadn't looked in a mirror yet, but she was fairly confident she looked dreadful. She hadn't removed any of her makeup before crashing out, and she'd filled her blonde hair with gel the night before. She could tell by how her scalp hurt this morning that her bleach blonde shag was all bent out of shape. ‘How long do you think it's going to take to make this presentable?'

‘I'll catch you later.' Zanthie immediately conceded defeat.

‘That bad, huh?' Aurora waved her friend farewell, very grateful to put her head straight back onto the pillow.

‘Big gig tonight,' Zanthie yelled back to remind her. ‘The rest of the girls will be here about two.'

‘I know …' Rory groaned.

‘Be gorgeous by the time I get back.' Zanthie backed out the door.

‘I will!' Aurora buried herself under the covers and when she heard the door close, she gave a deep sigh of relief.

In her mind she conjured the one perfect colour image that she'd seen of the pilot — his straight dark hair falling in his large brown eyes, and his cocky half-grin that revealed a dimple in his cheek — and the vision filled her with delight and intrigue. Rory could tell, just from the look on his face, that he was an adventure waiting to happen, and that's how she felt about herself too.

‘Where are you, Airman Gudrun?' Aurora rolled on her side and closed her eyes to imagine.

 

Zeven and Mythric arrived in Heavensgate and, after a two-week stint in the desert, were more than ready for some rest and recreation. Zeven was almost sorry that he'd given up President Anselm's apartment and all its attractive helpers, but he was equally ready for some time alone.

Out at the desert facility, he'd found Mythric to be easy company as a flatmate, and a wise counsel in the workplace. Still, Zeven could
hardly wait to be let loose in a vehicle that did not have Mythric's voice of reason urging caution through a speaker in his ear at every turn.

‘You know that holiday you were having, before you got dragged to Sermetica to baby-sit me?' Zeven queried as they headed for a debrief with President Anselm.

‘What of it?' Mythric attempted not to sound perturbed by the subject.

‘I could arrange for you to resume it for the week, if you'd like?'

Mythric waved off the idea. ‘I'd lose half the week in travel —'

‘Not if you fly Air Starman, you won't.' Zeven winked, but Mythric seemed horrified.

‘Although I appreciate the offer, I do not appreciate how candid you are about
certain things,
which you should not be so blasé about anywhere in civilisation.'

Zeven cringed, wondering why he even bothered trying to make his partner's life more exciting. ‘You know, for someone who has no kids, you sure sound like a father a lot!'

‘That's because you're so bloody immature.' Mythric calmly rebutted the insult as they headed past Anselm's rows of secretaries.

‘Am not!' Zeven jested. ‘I'm just more in touch with my inner child,' he announced in a serene manner, and Mythric finally cracked a smile.

‘In touch?
Possessed
is more like it.'

As they reached the presidential office, they were immediately shown inside.

‘Well, aren't we honoured,' Mythric muttered to Zeven.

‘I'll tell you when I see my new wheels.' Zeven rubbed his hands together, hoping Anselm had not forgotten the promises he'd made prior to his stint in the desert.

‘Agent Zeon, Starman.' Anselm rose and acknowledged them both. ‘You boys have caused quite a stir at the facility, I hear.'

‘Hunzo shouldn't be complaining.' Zeven defended his techniques. ‘We've advanced their research years in just two weeks!'

‘He is not complaining.' Anselm smiled to reassure him. ‘In fact, he sent you a gift.'

‘Really?' Zeven was pleasantly surprised to hear this, as Hunzo had designed some of the most elite vehicles of all time! His mind raced back to his late teens to recall what Hunzo cars had been released around now, and his eyes began to water. ‘Not the Hunzo Borealis Sports Convertible?' He almost choked on the query, as the possibility of driving the most lusted after car of his lifetime made his heart race. The car was not unlike the Hunzo stealth interceptor, as it was a concept vehicle that had a self-propelling, wind-generated turbine engine; this was the advent of Kestler's once-theorised ambient energy.

‘I wouldn't know.' Anselm grinned and pleaded ignorance. ‘You'll have to wait and find out.'

‘Why wait?' Zeven objected.

‘Because I have a couple of other matters to discuss with you first.' Anselm invited Zeven and his partner to take a seat.

‘Accommodation?' Zeven said hopefully, as they planted their butts on the chairs facing Anselm's desk.

‘Indeed,' Anselm advised. ‘My people have found you both apartments in the government sector. My secretary will give you the details on your way out.'

‘Excellent.' Zeven rubbed his hands together, and Mythric was clearly looking forward to having his own living space for a while too.

‘However, Starman,' Anselm looked to Zeven, ‘I would like to meet with you midweek at my private residence. The girls are all very annoyed they did not have a chance to say goodbye, you see?'

Zeven suspected this was not the reason for the meeting at all, but said nothing. ‘I would like to catch up with them too,' he agreed, hoping to bring the meeting to an end.

‘And you've had another invitation to an audience,' the president advised.

‘From who?' Zeven couldn't think of anyone he'd need to be granted an audience to see.

‘From my great great aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Sermetica, Lady Maiara Vidor,' Anselm announced winningly.

‘Why would
she
want to see Starman?' Mythric sounded more shocked than his young partner looked.

Anselm looked to Mythric quizzically.

‘She is very old, after all,' Mythric explained his surprise. ‘I rather thought she'd be dead or mad by now.'

‘As the most senior lady of the Sermetic royal family, we are very appreciative that is not the case,' Anselm replied.

‘Of course.' Mythric realised he'd spoken out of turn. ‘Sorry.'

‘If this has something to do with my parents …' Zeven rose from his seat, as his anger mounted.

‘Taboo subject,' Mythric warned, as Anselm looked back to Zeven.

‘But aren't you curious to —'

‘No,' Zeven insisted flatly. ‘
Absolutely
, no.'

‘Okay, then.' Anselm gave up. ‘Do yourself out of an inheritance and family, it's your call.'

Zeven hadn't even considered he might have estates somewhere, or an inheritance. ‘Look.' He didn't want to sound ungrateful. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I already have everything I want … I have enough problems in my life without any more complications, thanks.' What Zeven was actually thinking was that he really didn't need the kind of hassles that Taren Lennox had been encumbered with, upon finding out her true identity.

‘Well, I see why you might be cautious,' Anselm conceded, ‘but if you change your mind.'

‘He won't,' Mythric said at the same time as Zeven replied, ‘I won't.' Zeven looked at Mythric, curious about his support.

Mythric shrugged. ‘You've made no secret of your ill will toward your parents and I can understand that.'

‘See,' Zeven pointed out to Anselm. ‘
He
understands that.'

‘Like I said,' Anselm got the message, ‘it's
your
choice.'

‘Well, I choose my present from Hunzo and my apartment key,' Zeven concluded.

‘See Doltrice on the way out, she has the details, and book a time for our meeting during the week.' Anselm rose to dismiss the pair.

‘Will do, Mr President.' Zeven wasted no time getting out of there. ‘I don't know about you, but I need a drink,' he said to his partner, who was just as keen to leave.

‘I'm with you on that,' Mythric agreed.

 

When Zanthie returned home in the afternoon, Aurora was gig-ready and perusing the inter-system news on their small home entertainment system. ‘You're looking more human.' Zanthie offloaded her bag on a lounge.

‘Mmm … yeah,' Aurora mumbled to acknowledge her flatmate's presence as she flicked through news articles at a rapid pace.

‘What are you searching for?' Zanthie noted the distraction in Rory's mood and came to stand by her.

‘I'll give you one guess,' Aurora replied.

‘That pilot guy?' Zanthie was concerned for her friend's state of emotional health. ‘You know there are plenty of guys who want to date you, if you'd just —'

‘Shit!' Aurora wasn't listening, and sat back in her chair annoyed. ‘Not only are there no updates, now I can't even find the original news report and I know it was on this station.'

Zanthie was surprised. ‘Didn't you bookmark it?'

‘I did,' Aurora said, ‘but now it's telling me that it can't find the article, and it was only run in the last couple of months! They've got stories here that date back years!'

‘Maybe someone wanted the story pulled?' Zanthie posed. ‘But more likely they discovered he hasn't gone missing and pulled the story to hide they were misinformed.'

‘But if that were the case, why not just run a story saying, “Hey, we found him”?' Aurora shut down the system in disgust.

‘Well, they probably figured no one would notice.' Zanthie shrugged it off. ‘Not everyone is as manic obsessive as you, over someone they don't know and probably never will know.' Zanthie expected to have something tossed at her for the comment, but Aurora was deep in thought.

‘I think I'll contact the station,' she decided with a nod, and moved to turn the system back on.

‘Aurora!' Zanthie rolled her eyes and put her hand over the startup mechanism on their system. ‘Isn't it possible that you're just fantasising over this guy so you can avoid dealing with all the guys who are seriously interested in you?'

‘I don't want to go out with a student! I don't want to go out with a groupie! I want a guy who has a life! A sense of adventure! Like me.' She shrugged, approving of her own reasoning.

Again Zanthie felt her eyes rolling back into her head from frustration. ‘Then why pick a guy who is missing, possibly dead —'

‘Don't say that!' Aurora objected, shoving her aside. ‘Go have a shower, or we'll be late.' She switched the computer back on. ‘I'll be done by the time you're ready.'

‘Fine, chase a ghost, see if I care.' Zanthie headed for the bathroom.

 

When Zanthie emerged from her shower, Aurora was on the bed with her guitar, composing a new tune. As she dried herself, Zanthie listened, growing ever more concerned.