The Mutant Prime (28 page)

The supermutant struggled as the walls of the esper field shrank around him. Staggering blindly forward, he tripped over a low table and cried out but managed to catch himself. The esper cloud darkened as it drained his telepathic energy, reducing all cerebral functions to baseline levels. Ashman moaned and fell to the floor, where he lay, a shrouded figure, unmoving.

“Time to go.” Skerry grabbed Narlydda’s hand and started for the door.

She hung back, gaping in distress.

“You hurt him. I didn’t want you to hurt him.”

Skerry shook his head. “I don’t know what he gave you, Lydda, but whatever it was, it’s definitely not endearing you to me.”

“Sorry,” she said. Her frown melted and she began to giggle. “I feel pretty strange.”

“I can see that. Come on.” He hurried her and the others into the shuttle bay, along the catwalk, and aboard the mini-shuttle.

“Quick, let’s get out of here,” he yelled, sealing the door then webbing himself into a couch with Narlydda.

Yosh punched in the autopilot, and ponderously, the shuttle began to move out of the bay toward the safety of space. Metal screeched, then was still as the orbiter pulled away and out into the vacuum. In moments, the factory was a speck on the cabin screen.

“That was fast,” Skerry said with relief. He turned to give Narlydda a hug. His hands closed on empty air as she faded away, lingering a moment as a green ghost before disappearing completely.

“Lydda!”

“Gods!” Melanie said. “She turned transparent, just like in my dream.”

The color drained from Skerry’s face. He pulled free from the webbing. “Dammit!” He punched the cabin wall, no easy task in low gravity. “God damn me for a fool!” His third punch dented the mech dispenser. Pink liquid began spraying out into the cabin, forming into round globules, which floated languidly, splashed upon contact, and settled into a fine pink mist.

“What happened?” Yosh demanded. “She was right here!” He hit the mech disabler, halting the flood of pink fog.

“Calm down, Skerry,” Melanie said. “Before you wreck the cabin.” She detached her webbing, pushed off from her couch, and grabbed for her cousin’s flailing arm. “Listen to me! You’ve got to calm down.”

“I knew it all seemed too easy,” Skerry said. He floated by the wallscreen, Melanie clinging to his shoulder. “No, Yosh, I don’t think Narlydda was right here. In fact, I’m not sure she was ever here at all.” A cloud of pink liquid floated around his head like a halo. “This Ashman is much trickier than I expected. If he could convince me I’d knocked him out with an esper squeeze while at the same time deluding me that I’d rescued Narlydda, then we’re in big, big trouble. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What should we do now?” Melanie’s voice was shrill with fright. She released her grip on Skerry and pulled herself back to her couch using the handholds which studded the cabin walls.

“We could go back to Armstrong Base,” Yosh said.

“Oh sure. And whistle up the military,” Skerry said. “Wouldn’t they just love to get their hands on Ashman. Or die trying.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Yosh said defensively. “You’ve just said we’re in big trouble.”

Skerry leaned over and grabbed the musician by the collar of his orange pressure suit. “Listen to me,” he said. “That factory is armed to the teeth. If the military gets involved in this, they could blow the entire place up. And Narlydda with it.”

“But what else can we do?” Melanie cried.

“We can turn around and go back to the factory,” Skerry said.

Yosh carefully unhooked Skerry’s fingers from his suit, one by one. “Sounds crazy to me,” he said. “No offense,” he added as the bearded mutant glared at him.

“Yosh is right,” Melanie said. “We’ve already proven that one strong telepath, a null, and a nonmutant are hardly a match for Ashman.” She waited for another eruption out of her cousin. To her surprise, he said nothing, looked away as though pondering the problem, then nodded.

“We’re overmatched,” he said sourly. “That’s for sure. Now if your brother were here, I might stand a real chance,” he said. “Together, a strong telepath and a multitalent telekinetic …”

“Well, he’s not available,” Melanie said.

“Then we’ll just have to do our best,” Skerry said. “But we are going back to that factory. Now.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, slowly, Melanie looked at Yosh. He nodded. She knew she couldn’t fight them both.

“All right,” she said. “If that’s the way you want it. Yosh, does this shuttle have an armory?”

“Probably,” he said. “Emory Foundation seems to have equipped this private fleet with everything but an atom splitter.”

“I’m not interested in physics experiments,” she said sharply. “But I could use a gun. Or three.”

She aimed herself toward the cabin screen but nearly overshot and bounced off the far wall before she grabbed a handhold. The screen buzzed with static. She switched it to internal mode.

“Blueprint, Shuttle-D,” she said.

“Getting.” A holo diagram in full color seemed to spring out of the screen. Melanie studied it impatiently, then nodded.

“Screen off.”

She pushed away toward the back of the cabin. “Good thing you didn’t dent
this
mech,” she said to Skerry. She fiddled with the keypad for a moment, nodded, and typed in her request.

The mech whirred. A small door in the brown cabin wall swung inward and up, revealing a long white tray on which a sleek, gray laser pistol sat. Melanie reached for the gun and hefted it approvingly.

“Nice.”

“When you’re finished admiring that laser, I suggest you web yourself back in.” Yosh said. “I’m going to call Armstrong and tell them if they haven’t heard from us in two hours, they’d better send the fleet. The cavalry. Whatever it is they send to space stations to rescue mutants in distress.” He stared at Skerry defiantly. “With or without your approval.”

Skerry’s eyes narrowed in anger. He began to disagree, then stopped and, raising his hands, shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. If we can’t stop Ashman, we can at least warn somebody else.”

“Good.” Yosh typed in the emergency request.

The screen image disintegrated into flickering gray and red static. Yosh tried it again. More static.

“I think we’re being jammed,” he said.

“At this distance?” Melanie asked. “I don’t believe it.”

“Ashman’s very strong. Remember, it wasn’t until he was in space that his control over Emory Foundation headquarters began to erode.”

Skerry nodded. “Good point. Well, at least we know that he has some limitations. If only we could get far enough away from him. But no time for that. Can you reprogram the autopilot to take us back to the factory?”

“Sure. At least that works.”

“Okay.” Skerry turned to Melanie. “You know how to use that gun?”

“Yeah.”

Yosh looked up from the autopilot in surprise. “You do? How come?”

“Well, I had to learn about it for a feature I did on lasers in the home.”

Skerry gave her an approving pat on the back. “And I thought that all video jocks were just talking heads. At least now both of you have weapons.” His smile faded. “For all the good it will do us.”

The image of the factory grew in size, looming onscreen as they drew near it. Tensely, the three of them stared at it. “Ready or not,” Skerry said. “Here we come.”

Narlydda looked around in confusion. Had she imagined that Skerry had been there? But she thought he’d walked in and smiled at her. Right before he faded away, leaving the stars to twinkle at her through the transparent domewall.

Ashman stood across the room, rubbing his throat. His attention seemed distracted.

“Victor?”

He ignored her.

“Victor, what happened to them?”

“Not now.”

“Victor—”

“Dammit, I said not now!” He whirled, eyes blazing. “I’m trying to protect us from your so-called friends. Stop distracting me.”

She jumped to her feet. “So Skerry was here!”

“Yes, and he’ll be back, I’m sure.”

“Good.”

“You’re a fool, Narlydda.” Ashman was almost sneering in his anger. “I got a quick look at this rescuer of yours—he’s an irresponsible renegade. Not exactly the kind of man who will stay in one place. Or with one woman.”

“Go to hell,” she snapped. “You’re just jealous. Did I say that I wanted a man to stay with me? The reason I like Skerry is because he’s unpredictable. Untamable. And terrific in bed.” Her fear of Ashman was gone. She was angry, heedless of what she said.

Ashman reacted with all the rage she’d hoped for. Cursing, he smashed a storage unit into splinters with a rasping telekinetic bolt. “You’re an idiot,” he said. “You don’t know what I’m offering you.”

“You’re offering me obliteration,” she said. “Only you think it’s intimacy.” She ducked as a serving mech sailed toward her and over her head to lodge in the far wall dividing the domerooms. “And if you want to play rough, you’ve certainly equipped me to be your playmate.”

As she spoke, Narlydda pulled a storage cabinet free from its housings behind Ashman and tipped it over onto the supermutant. While he was disentangling himself, she hurried into the next room, looking for a hiding place.

The bed, she thought. Get behind it. She used her new telekinetic power to pull the white acrylic headboard away from the wall and hollow out a space in it that just fit her. Gratefully, she crawled in and moved the bed back in place.

Skerry, get back here soon, she thought. I can’t stall him or hide forever, and I’d prefer a ride home to floating back all alone.

Heyran Landon paced irritably before the screen in his office. He was beginning to wish he’d taken a job with the Navy. He liked the ocean. All that peaceful blue water. And the only things you had to worry about were colliding with another ship, shearing off a drilling platform, or drowning. Much easier than dealing with zero-g and vacuum environments. And much more appealing than rescuing rich socialites whose private shuttles had malfunctioned.

“I understand, General Cadston,” he said, addressing the screen. “Mrs. Emory’s shuttle has been docked at the orbital factory for hours, emitting a distress signal.”

“Somebody’s probably just leaning on the wrong switch,” the Brigadier said, smiling his famous smile. “But since it’s Tavia Emory’s shuttle, we have to check it out.”

Halfheartedly, Landon returned the smile. The last thing he wanted to do was rush out and jump-start a society matron’s shuttle. Even if she was a bridge partner for Cadston. “Sir, have you tried to raise them by radio?”

The Cadston smile faded. “Of course. No luck.”

“Odd. Have there been any reports from the factory?”

“Negative. And why should there be? That place is completely automated.”

“No external screens? We could at least get a look at the shuttle before scrambling a flight.”

Cadston nodded. “A Korean news satellite went past it about half an hour ago. No external signs of trouble, although there were some funny things on that factory the brass wants explained. And I want you to go, Heyran. ASAP.”

“Yessir.”

The screen went dark.

Who was available to scramble for a quick rescue? McLeod was on leave—he could recall her, but that would take too long. Well, there was Ethan Hawkins. He could borrow him from the
Brinford
until Kelly returned. A two-man mini would take them up quickly. Be back by dinnertime, if they were lucky.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

.

Michael rose from the cushions beside his mother and left her sitting in silent meditation by his father’s bed. Jimmy was slumped in a chair nearby, eyes closed, weary with grief.

I feel so strange, Michael thought. I should be sad, or guilty, or something, but instead, I just feel relieved. And free.

He looked at the still face of his father. James Ryton had slipped quietly into death. How peaceful, Michael thought. Like a pale statue. Nothing to indicate that he’d spent his life like a clenched fist ready to punch out in anger at the rest of the world.

He stared at him a moment longer.

Goodbye, Dad.

Jena was sitting by the door on a pile of beige cushions. The color seemed washed out of her. Even her electric blue silk tunic was oddly subdued. As he walked past, she mindspoke him.

I’ve sent for Herra. Rebekah Terling is willing to officiate at the burial, but Chemen Astori has offered to fly out if you wish.

Michael nodded. “Let mother decide. I want to try and find Melanie.”

And will you please get rid of Captain McLeod! I think I’ve been patient and understanding, but really, Michael—

He cut her off. “I’ll take care of it.”

Jena flashed him a furious look but said nothing more.

At his nod, Kelly stood up, shot the cuffs of her purple uniform, and followed him out into the hall. The filtered sunlight warmed the blue hospital tile. Together, they walked in silence. Michael had a sudden urge to put his arm around her, even here, in this private, mutant place.