Mutant Star (11 page)

“Fists?” he said. “Isn’t that crude?”

But appropriate
.

The Penitent hit him again. And again.

Rick began to black out.

The sound of shouts and footsteps drew him back to consciousness. He sagged to his knees as the telekinetic grip released him: when his head cleared, he discovered the reason.

The Zeitgeist had emptied out onto the Penitents. Mutants they might be, but no mutant gang could hold off three hundred enraged bikers.

The scene swirled around Rick as he got to his feet. To his left, Henley helped three other men pound the Penitent leader against a skimmer hood. Nearby, the short-haired mutant woman was lying, unconscious, propped against the melted trash barrel. A leather-jacketed Penitent telekinetic held two muscular women above him in midair until a third crept up behind him with a lug wrench.

The owner of Zeitgeist, Lan Chung, heaved his 275-pound bulk onto his own monster Harley and began to ram the Penitents’ bikes even as the gang tried to mount them and retreat.

“Rick?”

He turned. Alanna stumbled toward him. She had a livid bruise on her cheek.

“Look out!”

A stray engine manifold came flying through the air. It was going to hit her broadside. Too late, she turned, mouth open, to see it.

Rick reached for her as though there was some way to cross that span and pull her from harm. And as he reached, he felt an odd, coiling sensation in his back. Alanna jolted forward as though pushed, the distance between them telescoped, and she was in his arms, safe. Behind them, metal clanged against concrete.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” he said. “I didn’t do anything.” But Rick felt Henley’s gaze on him and knew he’d seen it, too.

The howl of distant sirens filled the air.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They ran for his bike.

“Jump on.” Rick kicked the jets to life. Alanna grabbed him around the waist, and they roared off. The din of the fight faded behind them. For once, Rick welcomed the darkness. Liked, too, the feel of arms clamped around his waist, her cheek against his back. He felt as though he could fly forever through the foggy night as long as Alanna was with him.

***

Once back at the house, they raced inside, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. The fight had stirred both of them and they tore off their clothing in a frenzy, making love hungrily, noisily, ignoring the sounds of their housemates returning.

Somebody banged on the wall. “Hey, guys,” Henley shouted. “Do you think you could keep it down a little?”

They ignored him. Even Beethoven thundering over Rick’s music screen at full volume barely covered the jellbed’s sloshing and their lusty cries.

By the time their passion had cooled, the house was silent. Alanna curled against Rick happily, spoon fashion.

He yawned and traced the ridge of her spine. “Gods, where did you come from? Promise me you won’t go away.”

“I won’t,” she said. “At least, not for good. But I have to leave for a little while.”

“Huh? Where?”

“Home.”

Anger kindled in his voice. “You live here. With me.”

“Well, yes, of course,” she said. “But don’t you want to get our own place?”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Everything. That’s why I want to see my folks. They can help.”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.”

“Besides, I promised my mother I’d help her cast ‘Marsdrop.’ It’s a multi-unit piece for NASA headquarters and it’s due soon.”

“I thought you had a job in town.”

Alanna wrinkled her nose. “If you call selling used clothing a job.”

“I get it. You’re bored. You’d rather be working with your mom. Better pay. More glamorous.”

“You’re damned straight it is,” Alanna said. She sat up, irritated. “I sure as hell don’t want to be working at the Santa Cruz Thrift Shop for the rest of my life.”

“So what do you want to do? Be an imitation Narlydda? Dust Mama’s statues and write limericks on the side?”

“That’s a shitty thing to say! But I’d rather help arrange gallery receptions than chase a bunch of homeless bums out of my shop. Or spend my nights in gang fights.”

Rick sat up, “You seemed to find this one exciting enough. Or was I misinterpreting your gasps just now?”

“Stop it.” Her cheeks were flaming. “You know what I mean.” She took a deep breath. “Rick, I don’t want to fight.”

“Good.”

“I’ll be away for two weeks at the most. That should give you time to start looking for a new place for us.”

“And how will we afford this new place?”

“You said that Shoggie keeps trying to get you to be shop foreman.”

“Yeah. But I don’t want the responsibility.”

“Why not? What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

She sighed. “Do you really want to live like this for the rest of your life?”

“What’s wrong with this?” He gestured at the peeling walls as though they were part of a grand palace. “I know it’s not up to your mother’s standards, but it suits me fine. I like my friends. I like my life. If you want to be with me, you can like it, too.”

“Rick, everything changes.”

“Not me.”

“Especially you.” She stared at him. “That’s another reason I think we should get our own apartment.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Never mind. I just wanted to tell you what I was doing.”

“Thanks. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow, I think.”

“Do whatever you want. It’s your life.” He turned away from her toward the wall. “Now excuse me. I’d like to sleep.”

***

It was eight-thirty in the morning and Julian had overslept. He hurried into the lab. Eva had asked him to see her first thing. By his reckoning, she’d been cooling her heels for half an hour.

“About time you got here,” she said. She was sitting at her desk scrolling through something on her screen. She turned to face him and her gaze was intense. “Julian, two other ‘riders’ have seen your lady.”

“Then it wasn’t a delusion?”

Eva smiled. “If it was, it’s a shared one.”

“Extreme! That means there’s some real content to the flares,” Julian said. “Content that can be perceived and documented.”

“Not exactly. But it appears there’s some content that can be perceived. But this is only confirmation of one tiny image. There are half a dozen more fragments that remain unsubstantiated.”

“What about that wild one I saw? The thief climbing in the window?”

“I’m sorry, Julian. That’s yours alone. At least we’ve gotten confirmation on something. It might save the program.”

“Save the program?”

“Dalheim has been threatening to cancel our lease. You know he wants this floor for Henderson’s program.”

“Yeah. Chimps programming screens. Nature’s way.” Julian gave a derisive chuckle.

“But now that we’re starting to get quantifiable results, I just might be able to hold him off.”

Julian stopped smiling. “You never told me it was as serious as that.”

“I hinted. But there was nothing you could do.”

“I’m not helpless. I could have …”

“Done what? Faked results?” She frowned. “Listen, I’ve been dealing with interdepartmental politics since you were in high school, Julian. So thanks, but let a pro handle it.”

“Sure.”

“Hey, don’t take it so personally. We’re all on the same team.” She stood up and came around the desk. “But I’m team leader. It’s my job to worry. And plot.”

Under her white lab coat she wore a rich woolen tunic rolled at the neckline that echoed the deep green of her eyes. Her short, straight red hair framed her face. Julian was struck again by her elfin daintiness. Eva Seguy was ten years older than he. But the women his own age left faint impressions where Eva made bold strokes.

“Pulling rank?” he said.

“Something like that.”

Their eyes met. Held.

The phone rang.

Damn, Julian thought.

“Excuse me,” Eva said. She leaned over her desk. “Seguy here.”

A balding, ruddy-faced man greeted her jovially. “Eva? Bus Farnam.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a friend coming into town who’s heard about your program.”

“From whom?

“Well, from me.”

“I thought so.” She frowned.

Farnam’s smile faltered but he plowed on bravely. “Anyway, he wants to meet you—”

“And take a tour? Sorry, this isn’t a theme park, Bus.”

“Eva, he’s pretty important.”

“To you, obviously.”

“Well, he might be important to you, too. I hear Dalheim’s giving you heat.”

“No secret there. Who is this visitor, Bus?”

“Ethan Hawkins.”

“Who?”

Farnam’s face turned red. “Colonel Ethan Hawkins. Don’t you watch your history tapes? Jesus, what did they teach you kids in school? He lost an arm on Marsbase …”

“Right.” Eva turned away from the screen and rolled her eyes at Julian. “Got him now, Bus. He’s an old colleague of yours, isn’t he? And he wants to see the Flare Program?”

“Eva, he’s got connections with a capital ‘C.’ And money.”

“I’m starting to like him.”

“He asked to meet you.”

“Tell you what, Bus. Invite Dr. Dalheim to the party and I’ll say yes.”

Farnam gave her a sly look. “Clever. You’ll wave Hawkins and his interest in the program at Dalheim. I like your spirit. Okay, I’ll set it up. Tomorrow.” His image faded.

“Is this such a good idea, boss lady?” Julian asked.

“Who knows?” Eva waved her hands in exasperation. “It’s worth a try.”

“I agree with Farnam.”

“How so?”

“I like your spirit.” Julian took a step closer and closed the gap between them. Took her hand in his. “And I like you, Eva. But I’m not much good at playing games.” He took a deep breath. “Have dinner with me tonight?”

Her eyebrows shot upward. For a moment, she said nothing. But she didn’t pull her hand away, either. Her eyes began to twinkle. “That sounds lovely, Julian. What time?”

***

The screenphone rang insistently. Narlydda ignored it, intent on her painting. On the third ring, the simulacrum, Anne Verland, caught it.

“You have reached the phone of …”

“Mom?” Alanna’s voice overrode the simulacrum’s. “Mom, answer the phone. Mom, are you home?”

“I’m sorry,” Anne Verland said smoothly. “Your call cannot be answered at this time …”

Narlydda dropped her brush. “Thank you, Anne. I’ll take it.” She glared into the screen. “Where have you been? Where are you? I’ve had the police looking for you!”

“Look, I’m sorry.” Alanna chewed her lower lip. “I was with Rick.”

“I thought so. Alanna, how can you be so irresponsible? Your father and I have been frantic. Not to mention that I was expecting your help with the ‘Marsdrop’ piece. You’ve picked a hell of a time to run away from home.”

“Rick’s number isn’t exactly unlisted. And I didn’t run away.”

“No?” Narlydda gave a short laugh. “What do you call walking out of dinner and never coming back? My God, the way your father carried on I thought I’d have to give him a neural damper.”

“Is Daddy all right?”

“He’s fine. At least as fine as can be expected. Until I tell him where you are.”

“Wait. Don’t tell him.”

“You must be joking.” Narlydda stared at her daughter.

“I’ll come and tell him. I want to talk to both of you.”

“In person?”

“Yes. This afternoon. Is that all right?”

“Of course, Alanna. Just get back here. And soon.”

“I will.” The screen went dark.

Narlydda shook her head. That girl was impossible. As soon as she got home there’d be fireworks. She bent down and retrieved her brush, scrubbing at the blue stain on the floor with some turpentine.

What fireworks?

“I thought you were at the foundry.”

I was. Note the past tense
. Skerry sauntered into the room. “You still haven’t answered my question. What fireworks?”

“Alanna called.”

“About time, dammit. And?”

“She’s been with Rick.”

“Of course.” Skerry popped the top of a red jack container and sat down. “Did you mention to her that we had been just a trifle concerned?”

“I almost took her head off.”

“I hope you left something for me.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t believe I’m playing the heavy here. But her behavior’s been pretty shabby. And no way I can let her hang out with Rick.”