The Mutant Prime (17 page)

“I don’t know why you won’t leave me alone. You know I don’t want to talk to you, yet you insist.” She shook her head as though conceding defeat. “All right, then. This way.”

He followed her around the back of a hangar and down a steep flight of concrete steps into a half-empty bar below street level. It was dim, cool, and smelled pleasantly of balsam. The walls were lined with gray plank paneling. Each table had its own acoustic baffle shield. Round, silvery mechwaiters circulated. Drinks and hypos glowed atop their lighted trays. The legend above the door said
THE OTHER OFFICER’S CLUB
in dingy pink coldlights. Kelly selected a table in the darkest corner of the room.

“Bourbon,” Michael said, seating himself next to her.

“In glass or hypo?” the barmech asked.

“Glass.”

“And for the lady?”

“Coffee.” Kelly’s tone was scornful.

Michael felt weary and foolish. She hated him. What was he doing here? Everything he’d wanted to say vanished. They sat in uncomfortable silence, the bar lights blinking around them, until the mech returned with their order.

After a few swallows, Michael felt the amber liquor burn some courage back into him.

Kelly met his gaze defiantly. “Well,” she said. “Talk. It’s your credits. And your half hour.”

“I wish you weren’t so hostile.”

“Michael, I told you I didn’t want to talk to you. So you insisted: trapped me in an elevator, lassoed me in public with your telekinetic tricks. And now you expect me to be gracious when I didn’t want to do this to begin with?” She smiled ironically. “If you think you’re going to get a sympathetic ear, you’re wasting your time. You’re lucky I don’t give you a fat lip.”

Michael felt his own temper flaring. “Look, all I wanted to do was have a quiet drink and talk about old times.”

“Michael, you behaved like an idiot. I’m half tempted to walk out now.” She rose from her seat.

“No, wait. Please. I’m sorry, Kelly. I was just so desperate to talk to you. This whole investigation has gotten me crazy. I forgot where I was. Forgive me.”

She sat down. “All right. Now what in hell do you want from me?”

“Stop treating me as though I’m a convicted criminal. I’m not. Yet.”

“Michael, I shouldn’t even be seen with you.” She leaned toward him. “I’m on the other side, remember?”

Anger gave fresh color to her cheeks. Her blue eyes were bright, just as he’d remembered them. And her lips looked soft. So soft. His anger faded. Michael wanted to lean over and kiss her. He took another sip of bourbon. “What other side?”

“The government is looking for somebody to blame.” She spoke slowly, as though explaining an obvious fact to a sub-normal. “And aerospace contractors are the easiest target. Before they’re through with you, we’ll have ten new laws restricting space engineering.”

“Not if I can help it,” Michael snapped. “But I still don’t see what this has to do with us.”

Kelly laughed shrilly. “Us?” Her tone made the word an obscenity. “Don’t be a fool. The media would just love to get a cozy picture of Michael Ryton, suspected engineer, and Kelly McLeod, hero of Moonstation, sitting here having a drink.”

“Don’t be paranoid. Or melodramatic. I still don’t see why we can’t have a pleasant conversation.”

Kelly sighed and leaned back against the pink padded seat. “Maybe I just don’t want to. Why shouldn’t I be hostile? I don’t give a damn what happens to you. For all I know, it’s your fault that I almost got killed on Moonstation.”

“Don’t talk that way.”

“Is it true, Michael? Was your company to blame?” Her eyes were icy blue lasers, cutting into him.

“No. We were subcontractors. If there was a stress fracture, as I suspect, it occurred in Aubenay’s product, not ours.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him as though weighing his response. Then she nodded slowly. “Why haven’t you told the commission that?”

“I’ve tried. They’re not the world’s best listeners once they’ve got their teeth into somebody’s leg; Besides, I’m not anxious to destroy Aubenay. We do a lot of business together, and when this blows over …”

“Blows over?”

Michael grimaced. “Sorry. Poor choice of words. Anyway, I don’t want to alienate Aubenay if I don’t have to.”

Kelly put down her empty cup. “If I were you, I’d worry more about alienating the United States Congress. The subcommittee.”

“It’s too late for that. They’re firmly against the industry and make no bones about showing it. And I’m no magician, Kelly. I really don’t know where the failure occurred in the dome. All I know is that we did the job right, and our product was not to blame.” He emptied his glass and ordered a refill. “What was it like up there, when the dome went?”

“Scary for the first minute or two. Then I got so busy trying to survive that I stopped thinking about how frightened I was.”

“Would you go back up if they let you?”

She considered his question. After a moment she smiled slightly. “Yes.”

“Good.” He took a sip from his newly replenished glass. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

She gestured in a mock bow. “You have the floor.”

“Kelly … I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me? For fifteen years?”

Michael plowed on earnestly. “The marriage to Jena was a stupid mistake. I didn’t know what I was doing—I never should have agreed to it.”

“This is all ancient history. Why bring it up now?” She glared at him. “And next you’ll be telling me she doesn’t understand you.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” He smiled bitterly. “I’d say she doesn’t have any interest in understanding me.”

Kelly shook her head. “You want me to feel sorry for you. But I don’t. You treated me dreadfully. You got what you deserved. Jena was in love with her mirror as far back as high school. If she loves herself more than she does you, well, that should come as no surprise.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry, Kelly. For everything that happened. It was a bad time. And I made a bad decision.”

“We all make bad decisions occasionally.” She smiled as though at some private joke. “The trick is to survive them. At least you have a family. A center. All I have is the shuttle service. Space.”

“You could have married.”

She laughed. “No thank you. Marry some dedicated space jockey who I’d visit occasionally between missions? I don’t think so. I’ve seen too many of those kinds of marriages.” She turned a hard gaze upon him. “So be grateful for what you do have. It’s a little late for regrets, anyway. What about your daughter?”

“Herra? Just like her mother.”

“You know, I really hated Jena.” Kelly leaned back. Her eyes were focused on some far-away memory. “I saw her once, in town, before the baby came. I was home on vacation from school. She didn’t see me. She was so beautiful. So blond and glittering, even seven months pregnant. I felt like she’d stolen my life. My future. And in a way, she did.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” She met his gaze steadily. The anger in her face was gone, replaced by a deeper, sadder emotion. “Michael, I never wanted to see you again.”

“I know.” It was a whisper. Michael watched the soft lighting glow upon her cheeks. He ached to hold her. “Blame me.”

“I do.”

He chuckled ruefully. “I don’t remember you being this blunt before.”

“Thank the service for it. Bullshit is only required when dealing with the brass.” Her expression softened. “I didn’t think I could ever forgive you. I don’t know if I will. But I’m sorry you’re in this mess, Michael. I hope you come out of it in one piece.” She looked down at her watch. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll walk you …”

“No. Don’t. Please.”

He watched her leave, a slim, uniformed figure moving away quickly—too quickly—as though eager to get as far from him as possible. Then he signaled for another bourbon.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

.

Yosh put down his claviflute and turned toward the dark-haired young woman standing in his doorway. He’d seen her earlier onscreen, with that bald woman from Cable News, talking to Tavia. She looked familiar. He studied her now as she stood before him. Loose yellow silk tunic and leggings, soft leather sandals. Bright blue eyes. Soft brown hair fashionably cut. He smiled.

“What’s your name?”

“Melanie Ryton. I’m a reporter.”

Their eyes locked, mutual attraction pulsing between them. Finally she broke the spell, looked away, tapping her foot.

“What do you do?” Her voice was a rich, lilting alto. Good tonality, he thought.

“I’m a musician.”

“For Emory Foundation?”

“That’s right.”

She smiled. Yosh felt electrified. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Quick, think of something to say.

“So, Melanie-Ryton-from-Cable-News, my offer still stands. You’re a long way from Tavia’s office. Would you like a guide?”

She gave him a sly look. “Actually, I’d rather hear you play something.” She smiled again. And as he watched, she sank down on a pile of orange cushions.

Yosh grinned back. “My pleasure. I’ve just finished composing something I hope you’ll enjoy.” He reached for his flute, never taking his eyes from her.

The audience had overflowed the auditorium seating. There were rows of mutants standing, shoulder to shoulder, up the aisles and around the back of the hall. Jena had never seen a Mutant Union meeting so packed. All eyes were trained on the Mutant Union officers onstage. And all everybody wanted to do was talk about Ashman the supermutant. She watched eagerly as Wade Walters took the microphone to address the crowd.

“Friends, as you know, Dr. Sarnoff was going to discuss the end of experimentation on mutant subjects in Russia and Eastern Europe. Unfortunately, he has been called away on urgent business. Therefore, we will throw this meeting open to debate. The subject before us is Victor Ashman. Is he friend or foe? You all know my opinion. I believe we should cultivate the supermutant. He can work with us to better our lives. Any discussion?”

“How do we know we can trust him?” Kira Remmer demanded. She had run for a seat on the board in the last election but had failed to qualify. “Will he submit to DNA fingerprinting? Will he work with us on mutant rights?”

Wade shook his head. “We don’t have the answers to those questions yet. We hope to have them soon. I’m sure Ashman will be eager to work with us.”

“Spoken like a true politician,” Kira said. She smiled oddly. “You’re positive yet you don’t have answers. Meanwhile this dangerous enigma is frightening the normals, appearing on television, and seems to have a wealthy woman in his pocket.”

“Why doesn’t he come to see us?” shouted a violet-haired man with silver studs on either side of his nose. “He should be here among us if he cares about us at all.”

A roar of approval went up from the crowd.

“That’s the point,” a piercing voice said, cutting through the din. A round-faced man of middle size, tan with dark hair, stood up: Chemen Astori, the East Coast Book Keeper. The hall quieted around him. Astori rarely attended union meetings, but when he did, he proved to be a formidable opponent in a debate. “Ashman doesn’t care, and if we fool ourselves into thinking that his laxity in contacting us is just confusion rather than arrogance, we’re asking for trouble.”

Wade flashed a warning look at Astori, but he ignored him. “To invite him to a union meeting may have disastrous results,” he said.

“What kind of disaster?” Kira Remmer demanded.

“Don’t tell me you’re worrying about floods or pestilence,” said a dark-haired mutant sporting a goatee. “What could he do?”

“He could make you think whatever he desired,” Astori said. “Convince you to rise up, a mutant army, and depose the normals. Marshal a squad of telekinetics to tear apart the Pentagon. He could tell you that day is night and night is day, and you would all find yourselves sleeping at noon, awake at midnight.”

“I don’t believe in this, or him,” the bearded mutant said scornfully.

“Whether you do or not, he believes in himself. And that’s all that matters.”

“I agree in spirit with the Book Keeper,” Kira said. “But I think we should demand answers from Ashman. He’s frightened enough people already.”

“What do we need him for?” cried the mutant with violet hair.

“More importantly, what might he need us for?” Astori said. Around him, several Mutant Union members began clapping.

“And I think it’s too soon to know,” Wade said forcefully. “If we prejudge Ashman and reject him, we may alienate a powerful potential ally. We just don’t know enough yet.”

“Listen to Wade,” a pale-skinned, gray-haired mutant shouted. “Don’t slam the door on the future.”

A loud chorus agreed with him.

Wade smiled and held up his hands. “It’s important to raise all these issues now. And these are all good questions. I’m certain that, in time, they’ll be answered. But right now, all I can tell you is that Ashman told me personally that he wishes to address us, and soon. That sounds like he intends to work with us.”