The Nexus (17 page)

“They’ve been really nice,” said Jill.

“And here’s another new girl,” said Momma Ginny, making her way around to the other side of the table.  Amber introduced herself, and found herself suddenly snatched up into one of Momma Ginny’s hugs.  “You girls come by and see me any time, you hear?  I’ll be happy to get out of that kitchen and enjoy some good, civilized company for a change.  You have any boys chasing you and you need someone to get rid of them, you let me know!”  She laughed triumphantly and disappeared.

“Good old Momma Ginny,” laughed Mandy shaking her head.

“I actually did tell her about a boy who was stalking me one time,” said Dizzie, “some temp who worked in the cubicle next to mine for a month.  Believe me, she’s as good as her word.”  She broke into an amazingly accurate Momma Ginny impression:  “‘Boy, you keep your filthy mitts off that girl, you hear?  You so much as glance at her the wrong way and I will whip on your little white hind-parts so you can’t sit down ’til next Christmas, don’t think I won’t!’”

JILL and Amber got to Conference Room D a little early.  For a few minutes it was just the two of them waiting for Holiday and Corey to arrive and get orientation rolling.  It was more than a little awkward.  At least, for Jill it was.  Amber seemed fine.  She had no problem starting off the small talk.

“How was your first night in your new room?”

“Not bad.  I didn’t sleep the greatest, but, you know.”

“I hardly slept a wink!  I’m like freaking out that I’m finally here.”

“You’ve been wanting to join the department for a while?”

“Months.  I really had to talk Director Holiday into letting me sign on.”

That’s funny.  He did everything possible to get me to sign on.
  Jill figured it wouldn’t be smart to say the thought out loud.  “So you weren’t an errander before, were you?”

“How can you tell?”

“I just can.  It seems like most people around here were into something shady before they got here, but not you.”

“I’m here because of my dad.  He helped program Sherlock.  Did they tell you about Sherlock?”

“Yeah, I saw it...him.  So your dad helped build him?”

“Until he got cancer.  He died two years ago.  Dad never talked about his work, but I knew he was involved in something pretty big.  When he got sick, I did all the snooping I could to figure out what he’d been up to.  Slowly but surely I found out about this department.”

“So you’re pretty good at snooping.”

“Snooping and martial arts.  Those are my specialties.”

And looking like Miss Freaking America
.  “So Holiday finally figured you’d be a good fit.”

“It was either let me join or I’d tell every newspaper in Anterra about the department.”  She laughed.  “No, I’m kidding.  I wouldn’t have done that.  Probably.”

Holiday walked in with Corey Stone in his wake.  Corey smiled briefly in greeting and sat next to Amber.  Of course.

“Let’s get right to it, shall we?” said Holiday with a more-cheerful-than-usual smirk.

The beginning of orientation consisted of basic household rules:  Respect for department property, superiors, and peers.  Absolutely no girls in the guys’ dorm or guys in the girls’ dorm—except on special prearranged and properly supervised occasions.  “Call us old fashioned if you wish,” said Holiday.  “I’ll only take it as a compliment.”

Corey smiled.  “Don’t try to break that rule.  If the resident supervisors don’t catch you, Sherlock will.  Believe me, I know.”

Amber shook her head at him.

“Hey,” he said defensively, “I was new, and I just took a wrong turn.  Totally innocent, really.”

Holiday cleared his throat to shut Corey up.  “And,” he continued emphatically, “absolutely no romantic involvement between fellow department members.  Be friends.  Get to know each other.  Learn to love each other as brothers and sisters in arms.  But for heaven’s sake don’t date each other—or, if you do, keep it a secret from everyone else, especially me.”

“Sherlock might catch you at that one, too,” Amber muttered.

Jill laughed in spite of herself.

“I’m not going to bother going over the rest of our residence rules,” said Holiday.  “Read the department handbook for yourself.  Now, follow me, please.”

THEY went to the office next door.  Holiday introduced them to Miss White, a stylish woman with short black hair.  She cordially asked who her first victim would be.  Jill volunteered.

Miss White led her back to a small room with a glowing floor and walls.  Jill stood perfectly still when she was told to, and the floor and walls got brighter and hummed.

“What’s this supposed to do?”

“We’re creating a digital three-dimensional model of you.  We’ll need a very precise measurement of all your body’s dimensions and joints.”

“What for?”

“For your uniform, of course.”

“Oh.  Right.”

“Hold your chin up a little.  We’ll get another scan of your facial features, just to make double-sure.  We don’t want your mask to fit improperly.”

“Mask?”

“Holiday requires masked helmets during any mission where you’re not undercover.  So what do you want on yours?”

“On my mask?  Like, a design?”

“Yes.  You get whatever decals or images you want on your mask.  Bradley Park has the emblems from the Korean flag, not surprisingly.  Corey Stone has a skull painted across his.  How typically male and unimaginative, am I right?”

“What if I have no idea what I want?”

“Let me know later.  It’ll be plain black until then.  Okay, you’re done.”

She waved Jill back into the waiting area.  A minute later Amber’s measurements were done.

“Your uniforms will be arriving in a few days,” said Miss White.  “Sorry, it takes rather a long time to manufacture the polysynthetic exoskeletal protectant at such precise specifications.”

Jill frowned.  “The poly-whaty?”

“The material used for the armor on the uniforms.  State-of-the-art stuff.  Light, flexible, bulletproof for all but the closest and most direct shots.”

Amber raised her hand.  “Stupid question:  Do we get shot at much?”

“Occasionally,” Holiday answered.  “If it’s any comfort, the department is yet to suffer a fatality—or even serious injury.”

“Another stupid question,” said Jill.  “Can we shoot back?”

The director gave a half-smile.  “Follow me.”

THE Nexus happened to have the nicest indoor shooting range on Anterra.  They watched from behind a glass partition as a couple of field agents peppered paper targets with holes.

“To answer your question, Jillian,” said Holiday, “yes, you’re allowed to shoot back.  You’re even allowed to shoot first, if you must do so to prevent your enemy from harming you.  Our field agents carry weapons at all times.  Of course, our prayer is that they will never need to use them.”

“Just try not to aim for anything vital,” said Corey.  “Our firearms are defensive, not preemptive.”

“In other words, be like the cowboys in the old movies and shoot the gun out of the other guy’s hand,” said Amber.

“If possible,” said Holiday.

The two shooters left the range, and Holiday led them through the partition.  “Later this week you’ll be taking a basic weapons’ safety course.  I realize some of us,” he eyed Jill, “are used to handling weapons.  But please follow this department regulation with the finest of attitudes.”

“Will do,” said Jill.

“After the course,” Holiday went on, “your hours spent here, as well as your accuracy during each visit, will be logged.  We’ll be keeping our eyes on your marksmanship.”

Amber gazed nervously at the range.

“Ever been shooting before?” Corey asked her.

“Once or twice with my dad.  I’m better at kicking.”

“Speaking of which,” said Holiday, “Amber, here, will highly approve of our next stop on the tour.”

THEY went down some stairs into a large workout center—weights, exercise machines, and aerobic mats.  A track circled the place.  Several department members were using the gym.  Energetic music blared from unseen speakers.

“You will be expected to keep in prime physical condition,” Holiday announced.  “Each of you will be assigned a personal trainer who will regularly check up on your strength, endurance, and flexibility.”

The director led the way past the weight training area into a large, open room with a padded floor.  “Welcome to The Ring,” a sign over the doorway said.

A Korean teenager and an old, impossibly skinny man were in the center of the room.  They were fighting.  At least, the skinny man was fighting.  The kid seemed to mostly be falling down in various painful ways.

Holiday gestured to him and said, “Meet Bradley Park.”

Bradley didn’t manage much of a smile as he pushed himself onto his feet.

“And this is Bear,” the director added, indicating the old man.

Bear smiled widely.  “Jillian Branch,” he said in an airy voice, “and Amber Phoenix, is it?  I bask gratefully in your radiance!”

Jill couldn’t place the accent.  Whatever it was, Bear sounded regal.

“Bear is Bradley’s personal trainer,” said Holiday.  “And starting now he’ll be both of yours as well.”

“Such lovely young ladies,” Bear said with a slight bow.  “Can two such beauties truly belong in the realm of combat?”  He wheezed a laugh.  “I will tell you a secret:  It has been my experience that the more attractive a young lady is, the greater is her propensity for violence!”  He laughed again.  It seemed like he meant it as a compliment.

“In that case,” said Holiday, “they ought to be quite the matchup.”

Jill smiled ruefully. 
In that case,
she thought,
Amber’s going to kick my butt
.

JILL was more right than she knew.

They’d hardly swallowed breakfast the next morning before they were into their workout attire and off to the training area.  Bear squawked at them to come into The Ring first thing.

They didn’t bout against each other, for which Jill was incredibly thankful.  Bear started by leading them through a very long and elaborate series of stretches.  Then he gave what he called his “preliminary examination.”  The way this worked was pretty simple:  Bear asked Jill to stand in front of him, and said, “So...how would you fight me?”

Jill had been in a fight or three in her day.  You didn’t have much of a career as an errander without exchanging fists with someone at some point.  But it had always seemed pretty simple to her:  Hit the other person; don’t let the other person hit you; get out of there if possible.  Now Bear wanted to examine every minute detail.  Most of this examination consisted of him grasping his sparse white hairs and moaning about how she’d loose a kicking match with a one-legged old woman.  He seemed to want to correct her every move and posture.

When it was Amber’s turn, Bear’s crooked teeth suddenly appeared.  He never seemed to stop smiling while she demonstrated her abilities.  Like everything else about her, her moves were graceful and flawless.

Big surprise, Jill thought.  So when were Bear and Corey going to fight for Amber’s heart?

THINGS were a little different in the shooting range.

If possible, Amber seemed to know less about guns than Jill did about hand-to-hand combat.  Jill had show her how to hold the weapon, how to load it, how to squeeze the trigger instead of jerk it.  She even had to remind her to turn the safety off.  “Better than reminding you to turn it on,” she said reassuringly.

“Hey, I got it, I got it!” said Amber the first time she put a mark on the paper target.

“Nice going,” said Jill.  “He won’t be able to run with a gimpy left foot, that’s for sure.  Now, let’s go for more of the heart or head area, shall we?”

“Cowboy movies, remember?” said Amber.  “Nothing vital.”

“Right.  The hand, then.  Or the neck.  That’s where you’d want to put a stunner.”

Amber emptied another clip without much accuracy, and sighed.  “If we’re ever in a shootout, I’m a goner.”

“I’ll do the shooting,” said Jill.  “When I shoot the guns out of their hands, cowboy-style, you can take over, kung-fu-style, and save
my
rear.”

“Deal,” said Amber.

Funny how people didn’t seem so bad in situations where you were just plain better than they were.

THEY were evenly matched in the gym.  They pushed each other at a steady pace around the track and at the exercise machines.

By the time they showered and went to the caf for a late lunch they were exhausted.  It was a nice, satisfying kind of exhaustion.

WHEN Holiday had first introduced them to Bradley Park, Bradley had given Jill a strange look.  It may not have meant much to the casual observer.  But to Jill, it was easy to interpret.  He saw her Korean roots.  More precisely, he saw she came from a
partly
Korean background.  Most wouldn’t have been able to tell.  Other than her dark hair and eyes, she didn’t have particularly Korean features.