Chapter 6

Oira, 19 Oraa, 4392, Orthodox Calendar
Thursday, 7 July 2007, Native Regional Reckoning
Huntington, West Virginia (Native designation), Orala Nature Preserve, American Sector

Jason Fox arrived late in the afternoon at his new home in a heavy, pounding rain, sliding his ship up under the concrete and steel of a green bridge that looked to connect the downtown area of the abandoned city of Huntington with a series of houses on the other side. The skimmer was protected from the rain by the bridge, and to his relief, there was no one under that bridge when he got there. He’d been worried that maybe there were squatters there, but then again, in a city this size, all the squatters were probably in abandoned buildings and houses. Many of the houses he’d seen when he flew over had chimneys, so that was probably where most of them were living... if there were any. This city, like all cities in the Appalachian Forest, had only been abandoned about three years ago, so most of everything was still in moderately good repair. He’d noticed that the streets were riddled with potholes, and all the grass in the city was heavily overgrown, but aside from that it looked almost like there were still people living here. It was an eerie ghost town that would look alive if there was electricity.

It was a park of some kind, where he was parked. Thick grass was all around, and he was up against a floodwall that had once protected the city from the river. Further to the east was what looked like a small amphitheater built out over the water, and there were picnic tables and parking lots just inside where gates breached the wall. It had to be some kind of riverfront park. Jason opened the hatch and stepped out with a pair of binoculars, then used them to scan the opposite bank, what had once been the state of Ohio. He saw the houses over on that side, but he could see no activity out there. From the way it looked, at least for now, he had the place to himself.

Carefully, Jason checked the radio channels, and then the proximity sensors, for signs that they noticed he’d landed. He’d given no destination, and the last communication he’d made was with Columbus flight control about twenty minutes ago. Their sensors would show that he’d descended, but unless they had a satellite overhead or were using a ship’s sensors, they’d have lost contact with him at about 500 feet. Ground-based sensors had the same line of sight issues as old radar when it came to hilly terrain, because Faey sensors weren’t all that good at penetrating thick rock. Not the kinds they used for tracking air traffic, anyway. Space-based sensors didn’t have to worry about mountainous terrain, so they had the perfect vantage point. He’d descended under that level some 50 miles upriver, then flown down here literally skimming the surface of the water. He’d flown under most of the bridges easily, except for one at a place called Point Pleasant, which looked to have been damaged by something and had been partially collapsed.

Aside from that, everything looked eerily normal.

With a sigh, Jason shut down his precious ship, then went back into the cargo hold and pulled the portable PPG out of the habitat module. That device would power all his Faey-based equipment easily, acting like a portable power generator, and it wasn’t so large that it would be detectable by Faey sensors. He jacked it into the cabin’s power system and isolated it from the rest of the ship’s power system, which allowed him to bring up the radio, television, and other cabin systems except climate control without activating anything else. The skimmer’s computer was connected to its own always-on backup PPG, so the computer had no trouble controlling the active cabin systems. He kept an ear out for the regional command and military comm traffic, listening for any references to him as he pulled out his railgun and inspected it for any damage, then fitted it with sights and the scope, a scope that was both a laser sight and a telescopic sight. He also tweaked its operating system to have it chamber and recharge the firing capacitors faster, which effectively allowed the weapon to fire as quickly as the reload mechanism could chamber the next round. That was effectively as he could pull the trigger. Both of those actions were governed by the software that operated the weapon. Jason glanced down at the little ammo case he’d been carrying with it. Inside that box was 1,500 rounds of ammunition, as well as five extra clips. Each clip held 30 rounds; the rounds themselves were actually quite small, around the size of a .22 caliber bullet. The size and shape of them would even allow him to manufacture them without a replicator, since they were fairly simple. All he needed was a molcular sprayer to get the laminated titanium on them. He had two sprayers, and he had a good stock of titanium in his box of junk.. He could make the rounds out of any magnetic metal, even the sheet metal of a car. He could make a mold of a bullet in about 3 minutes with some wax, and he could use that mold and a molecular sprayer to take sheet metal as fuel and just spray the metal into the mold, like pouring water. Coat them with titanium, and he was ready to go. The sheet metal in one car would make a few hundred thousand rounds, so he wasn’t all that worried about getting ammunition for his railgun. He’d need to restock his titanium, but a visit to a hospital would help there. He seriously doubted that scavengers had taken all of the surgical instruments out of them, and many of them were made of titanium. If worse came to worst, he’d cross over into Faey territory and visit a home supply store. They had replicators on premesis, which they allowed people to use to replicate raw materials for a fee. The lack of a replicator was his one glaring deficiency, but they were just too big, and consumed too much power.

By the time he was done altering his railgun (he’d set the reload time like that on purpose to make sure it was going to work properly, though the weapon was capable of literally firing as fast as the trigger could be pulled), the rain had stopped, and the sun broke through a hole in the clouds and painted the muddy water of the Ohio River a golden brown. Jason opened the hatch again and stepped out, breathed in the warm air, muggy from the rain, but it was the sweet smell of freedom that filled his nose with its intoxicating perfume. He put a plasma pistol in the waist of his jeans, hidden behind his back by his denim overshirt, then affixed a carrying strap for his railgun and slung it over his shoulder. It was time to go out and see what was about. He went down the steps and touched the remote of his skimmer, which caused it to retract the stairs and close the hatch, sealing itself up. The lightly armored hull would repel anything a squatter could conceivably throw at it, unless they had some plasma weapons, anyway. It was invulnerable to gunfire, but it was more than vulnerable to metaphased plasma weaponry.

He had to walk a while to get to the floodgate, and decided that a bicycle might be handy for a while, til he could find something better. He came out behind what used to be a Red Lobster, its faded sign hanging precariously over a street that went along the floodwall. He kept going up towards the town, and it was when he got up there that he noticed the first signs of habitation. Some abandoned cars had been pushed to block some streets, most of the glass windows of the stores along-he had to look at a fading sign at the corner-3rd Avenue were broken out, and whatever had been on display in them was gone. Shopping carts and other debris were piled up in intersections to impede traffic, and he had to climb over a couple of them to continue up into the city. He came up through what had looked like a plaza of sorts, and when he reached 5th Avenue, he saw his first citizen of this abandoned city. It looked like about a thirty year old man wearing faded, dirty jeans and a black tee shirt, with a denim jacket over it despite the summer heat. He had the hood of a car open that was parked a bit further up 5th Avenue, a green Buick Century with four flat tires that had been parked at the side of a street, yanking on something.

“Excuse me! Hey, you, I need some help!” Jason called, turning towards the man, going around a large overgrown bowl of sorts that held an overgrown shrub. He opened his mind just enough to hear the man’s surface thoughts, so to better get a grip on what the man might say... and what he wouldn’t say. Sure, it was cheating, but he needed all the information he could get.

The man whipped out from under the hood with some kind of car part in one hand, and a revolver in the other. His hair and beard were brown and unwashed, and his face was smudged with dirt. Jason saw the fear in his eyes, sensed the rise of panic in his mind, and that made him react. Jason turned and dove behind the potted shrub as the man brought up his revolver and fired. He heard the bullet ricochet off the huge pot just before the loud report of the gun. Jason got up to his knees and unslung his railgun, keeping crouched behind the large pot, but he could hear the steps of the man as he fled back up the wide, four lane street, and heard his terrified thoughts as he fled. Gotta get back to the hill! Gotta get back to the hill! he thought over and over and over, and from the sound of it, that was when he’d feel he was safe.

Holy shit! Were they really that paranoid around here?

“Ok, important safety tip,” Jason breathed, trying to get over the scare. God, that had been close. If he hadn’t have been eavesdropping on that guy, he might have gotten himself shot.

Why was he so afraid? What was around here to be afraid of? Jason stood up when the man was over a block away, then did what he should have done in the first place. He swept the area around him with his gift, searching out other active minds, the very trick that Jyslin and Maya had once tried to use to find him, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Jason was a very strong telepath, and his ability to seek out and detect other sentient minds had a range of nearly a mile. He wouldn’t be able to make out any thoughts, but he’d know that they were there.

There were 73 responses, and they were concentrated mainly to the east, down towards where the maps had shown Marshall University to be located. There were eight people in his general area, moving in pairs, and all four sets of those paired responses were moving in his general direction. They were coming to check out the gunshot, he realized, find out what was going on.

Jason looked around, and saw that he was beside a public library. He raced up to its rotating door, then found it jammed. The window had been broken out of a handicap access door, so it was a simple matter to duck in and run into the building. It had been ransacked, and moldering books, decaying in the unconditioned air, were littering the floor. There was a check-in desk immediately in front of him, and he jumped over an access gate and knelt behind it, waiting for the first of those patrols to arrive.

It took about five minutes, then he saw them. Two men on bicycles, each with hunting rifles slung over a shoulder and pistols in holsters on their belts. They had hand-held radios as well, very nice ones for that matter, and one was using it. “Yeah, Jim, we’re at the library. Nothin’ here.”

There came the distant sounds of several gunshots.

“We’re up by the park,” came the response. “Whoever it was got up the hill. Lucky bastard.”

“You need to learn how to shoot, Jim,” the man called with a chuckle.

“Why don’t I practice on your ass, Trev? It’s big enough.”

Hmm... that sounded odd. Both of them weren’t really thinking about anything interesting, just bored and a little tired from biking around. One was waiting to get his shift over so he could go home. They weren’t much help. Jason needed more information, but he also wasn’t going to hang his butt out where they could shoot it off. He crept around the desk and through the access gate that kept people at one time from running out with the books. He crept on all fours through the broken window, mindful of the glass, then got behind that same planter as the two rode up to the edge of the street. He unshouldered his railgun, then rose up and aimed it at them. “That’s about far enough, gents,” Jason called loudly. Both froze, then one went for the pistol holstered in his belt. “Keep reaching if you want to keep your head,” Jason snapped as he read their thoughts. They were shocked, surprised, and now they were starting to become afraid. They couldn’t see him, had no idea if he was armed or not, but both of them were pretty sure that he was. “Both of you, hands up.” They complied, as the one on the left started immediatley wondering if he was fast enough to grab for his pistol and shoot, but the fact that he was still on his bike would make it really hard for him to turn around. “Now then, both feet on the ground.” They complied. Jason swept the area with his power, and found the closest pair of rovers was three blocks away, moving away from them. That was good. He slipped around them, coming into their view, and both immediately locked their eyes on his railgun. Both of them registered surprise, and the one that was now on his right noted to himself that Jason’s clean clothes and hair meant he had to be new, and that he’d gotten his hands on a Faey weapon. He relaxed just a little, as his mind saw the potential for having him join their gang.

Gang. He read more and more of the man’s thoughts, and saw that he was a member of a gang that held most of downtown and Marshall University. They defended that turf from squatters out in the hills, who snuck in to steal anything that might be of use, tried to get in and steal the dwindling supplies of gasoline or canned, nonperishable food that the gang had managed to amass.

“Well now, it’s nice to finally meet someone who didn’t shoot at me first,” Jason said in a grim tone, motioning with the barrel of his railgun. “You, pull out your pistol with two fingers, and drop it on the ground.”

The one on his left slowly reached down for his pistol, then he started preparing himself to lunge for it. His mind told Jason that he was betting that this newbie didn’t have the reflexes or the killer instinct yet to shoot him. Jason replied by firmly shouldering his weapon and aiming it at the man’s nose. “Carefully,” he warned. “If you think you can move that fast, maybe you can get your finger up fast enough to plug the hole I’ll put in your forehead.”

Fear rippling through his thoughts, the fellow decided that going for it wasn’t such a good idea. He pinched the butt of his revolver between two fingers and pulled it out, then dropped it to the ground. “Good boy. Now the rifle, one hand on the strap only.” He complied, then Jason nudged his rifle at the other man. “Same thing, slim. Pistol first, real slow, then rifle.” The man, holding the walkie-talkie, realized that he had it, and that he could warn the others of their situation just by pressing the transmit key. “Well, let’s start with the radio,” Jason said, looking him in the eyes. “No reason to invite anyone else to our little party, is there? After all, we’re not here to shoot each other up. At least I’m not. So drop it.”

Disappointment welling through his mind, the man dropped the radio to the ground, then carefully relieved himself of his pistol and rifle. “Very good, gentlemen,” Jason said. “Now scoot back from your toys, but don’t take either foot off the ground.”

“How you expect me to do that?” the one on the left, the taller of the two with greasy long black hair tied in a tail, asked.

“Shuffle,” Jason answered, bobbing the end of his weapon. “Back.”

They shuffled backwards awkwardly, for the bikes between their legs didn’t want to cooperate, their hands still up. Jason used his foot to hook one rifle, then used it to sweep all four weapons out from in front of him. He did not reach down for them. Jason backed up a few steps, then sat down on the concrete edge of a raised earth bed, the kind of thing that probably once held flowers. It was about fifteen feet across and the lip was about two feet off the ground. Jason lowered his weapon slightly. “Now then, gentlemen,” Jason said in a reasonable tone, openly listening to every thought they had, “as you’ve probably guessed, I’m somewhat new around here. I decided that I’d had just about enough of the Faey, and decided it was about time to take a little trip. As you can see, I managed to grab a few toys,” he noted, bobbing his railgun meaningfully. “Now, since it’s obvious that people aren’t that friendly around here, you’re going to tell me all about who’s around. You see, all I really want is a nice quiet place to move in and be left alone, and you two gentlemen are going to tell me where the best place might be.”

“I ain’t sayin’ shit,” the one on the right said. He was kind of portly, with brown hair and was missing one of his front teeth. His face was a bit round and reddish, either from sun and wind or some kind of medical condition, and he had close-set brown eyes and a Cincinnati Reds baseball cap covering dirty hair.

“Hey Mike,” someone called over the radio.

“That’s me, I have to call in,” the man with the Reds cap said, though his thoughts betrayed that statement.

“You just came down with a case of technical difficulty,” Jason told him bluntly.

“They know where we are,” the other said, the one called Trev.

“Sure, but they don’t know you’re in trouble,” Jason said with an evil little smile.

“If you don’t let him answer, they’ll come looking for us.”

“Fine. Let’s just wait right here for them. But while we’re waiting, you’re gonna tell me all about what’s going on around here. You know, all the juicy gossip, like who lives where, what places I should avoid, that kind of thing. I’m sure you’re just the veritable tour guide to the stars around here.”

The man Trev-probably short for Trevor-frowned, and his thoughts told Jason that he was very worried, that Jason was way too comfortable. That confidence had the man rattled.

“Hey Jim, this is Mike,” someone called. “What you need?”

“Swing out towards First Street and check the roadblock on Washington, then pull back in.”

“Sure, we’re not far from there.”

“Aww, ain’t that too bad. I guess someone else thinks he’s Mike too. Too bad that other guy believes it,” Jason told the other man with a sly grin. “Nice try. So, start talking, and don’t be shy.”

Jason listened, with both his ears and his mind, as they started talking. Their words were meant to get him killed, but their thoughts painted him a pretty stark picture of what was going on. The city itself was controlled by three gangs. This one, led by an evil-natured man named Joe Bueller, controlled downtown. There was a smaller gang that controlled the eastern part of the city, and a third gang that controlled the west. Beyond the city there were no gangs, just individual squatters and small groups that laid claim to this or that piece of territory. Some of them, mainly the gangs, were armed. The Faey had collected up most of the native weaponry, but in a state like West Virginia, where just about everyone owned a gun, even they couldn’t get them all. They’d missed quite a few, and one of the first things those who had avoided the evacuation had done was tear apart the cities to find them. In pawn shops, in residences, in one case an overlooked State Police armory, there were guns out there, and the squatters had managed to get their hands on them. The Faey hadn’t bothered trying to collect up the ammunition, so there was plenty to go around. Those State Police weapons were in the hands of the gang that controlled East Huntington and the towns of Guyandotte and Barboursville, that gang’s territory. They had a few M-16’s with mostly nine millimeter pistols and shotguns, but the gang here in downtown had managed to loot some street weapons out of an abandoned police warehouse, where those guns had been evidence in crimes. These two didn’t have machine guns, but some of the guards out there did; Uzis, Tek-9’s, and some other street weapons. Joe Bueller kept those guns closer to the seat of his territory, which was a bar on 4th Avenue not far from the Marshall University campus. Joe Bueller’s gang had twice the people as the other two, but their position in the middle didn’t allow him to kill off one without the other invading from the other side. The gangs on each side hated each other even more than they did the gang in the middle, so there was no chance that they’d join forces and crush the ones in the middle. So it was a balance of power that kept things from going all to hell. The gangs maintained their members through the food they’d collected and what their foraging parties could find, or steal, out in the wilderness areas. They were banded together for mutual protection, but unlike what Jason might imagine, they also took anything they could from anyone else, and killed them if it came to it. Both of these men had killed people before, Jason discovered as he read their thoughts, both in defense of their territory and out on raids to take food or valuable equipment from individual squatters out in the hills. Those squatters out there were very careful to keep hidden, because if a gang’s raiding force found out where they were living, they’d attack them. So most individual squatters were semi-nomadic, moving from place to place, and were as nervous as rabbits. Groups of squatters were out there, and their locations known, but they were too well entrenched or had too many people in them to make a raid on them successful. Those people had literally walled themselves into defensible positions. Joe Bueller would love to kill them off and take their stuff, but he’d lose too many men trying to take their camps, and those were men he couldn’t afford to lose if he wanted to protect himself from the other gangs. So Joe Bueller’s policy was to have his foragers simply go out and ransack houses out in the rural areas, and kill anyone they came across-at least after they got them to take his raiding forces to where they kept their goods.

Neither of these guys liked Joe Bueller, but he had a major mean streak and the loyalty of most of the people in the gang. Nobody really liked him, but he kept them all alive and fed, so they overlooked his violent temper because they were afraid they’d be overrun and killed by another gang if he wasn’t there. In general, just about everyone was going to act the way that first fellow did. These people didn’t trust anyone that they didn’t already know, and thanks to roving groups of people like this gang who went out to steal anything they could get their hands on, they’d shoot first and ask questions later.

Fear was the watchword out here in the wilderness, it seemed. And those remaining behind had quickly degenerated into bands of vicious thugs who took by force anything they could, from anyone weaker than themselves.

Such a pitiful, sorry remnant of what their once proud nation had been.

Jason glanced down the street. So, that single guy had come down to scavenge a car part... probably for a vehicle he either had or thought he could get running. He’d noticed a lack of cars on the streets. When they were evacuated out, the people were allowed to keep their automobiles. So that hadn’t left too many behind, just those ones that nobody had cared to bring along, or ones that had no real owners. Oh, he was sure that there had been cars galore to be had on the lots of auto dealerships, but that was only so many. And after three years, even with such a limited number of cars out there to be had, those places that had gasoline had to either be empty by now, or that gas had turned to varnish and was unusable.

Well... he had to find a new place to park his skimmer. He wasn’t about to leave it down here. He wasn’t going to get involved in these ridiculous turf wars. Though it was apparent that the opportunities to scavenge weren’t going to be as plentiful as he’d hoped, on the other hand, he already had just about everything he needed. He had enough food to last himself a month, and that should be enough to figure out how he was going to get himself set up. If it came down to it, he’d just go to Faey territory and buy himself a major stock of food. He had no qualms against buying from the Faey; they may be the conquerers, but they weren’t commanding him.

Hmm... there was an old interstate south of the city. He wondered if an overpass bridge over that highway was enough to hide his skimmer. It would have the vertical clearance, that was no problem, since his skimmer was only a little higher than an old semi rig’s trailer. Maya had told him to keep the skimmer under a bridge over a river, one with lots of concrete and steel. An overpass would have lots of concrete, but maybe not enough steel.

It wasn’t like he had much choice. He had to find a place for his skimmer, he wasn’t going to lose it. It meant so much to him, and it represented a part of his freedom, as much as his dad’s old Cessna had meant freedom for him before. He was willing to face down the entire Faey military to keep it. He would fight to keep possession of it. It was just that simple.

No, there was an easier place to park it... the other side of the river. He just had to make he wasn’t going to be bothered. Well, that could be done.

Blowing out his breath, he stood back up and looked at the two men, who were now repeating themselves. Their thoughts told him that they had no more viable information. “Very good, gentlemen, I think you’ve told me enough,” he said calmly. “Probably more than I ever wanted to hear,” he sighed. “Disgusting. To think that we’ve come, we’ve come to this. Fighting like wild animals over scraps. I thought Americans had more dignity than that.”

“Fine for you to talk, waltzing in here with your full belly and nice clothes,” the one named Trev spat vituperously. “You ain’t got no idea what it’s like being out here.”

“Fine. Go to the Faey,” Jason told him with cold eyes. “They’ll take care of you. All you have to do is live under their rules.”

“That’s worse,” he growled.

“Then you deserve the life you’ve chosen. Just don’t bring others into it. Kill each other, leave those who want to stay out of it alone.”

“I didn’t say nothing about anything like that!” he protested.

“I’m not an idiot,” Jason said coldly. “It doesn’t take a genius to piece together how you work. Well, you’re a big fan of turf, aren’t you? Well, here’s a new one for you.” He quickly bent down and picked up the radio, and he keyed it up. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” he said steadily into the microphone. “Welcome to the new world.”

“Who is this? Get off the channel Terry! We got no time for your jokes right now!” someone said immediately.

“Oh, this isn’t Terry. This is the new kid in town,” Jason said as he backed up and sat back down. He set down his railgun, and both immediately started planning on lunging for the guns laying on the ground. The shorter one was about half a second from it before Jason reached behind himself and brought out the plasma pistol, then levelled it at them. Both of them seemed to know exactly what it was, and both of them froze, their thoughts both fearful and angry. “I have your boys Trev and, what’s your name?” he asked the other man calmly.

“I ain’t tellin you shit!” he shouted. “We’re at the library! We’re at the library!”

“Yes, we do happen to be at the library right now,” Jason agreed pleasantly. “I have your boys here standing with their bikes between their legs and their hands in the air. You need to send someone down here to come get them. I think they’ll need help getting home.”

“Who the fuck is this?” someone called over the radio. “Whoever you are, you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I ever heard of! We’re gonna come down there and chop your fuckin’ head off!”

“Don’t worry too much about me, neighbor, I’ll be just fine,” Jason said, leaning back a little. “See, I just got here a couple of hours ago, and I find out that the place I picked to live is nothing but a war zone. Well, I didn’t come here to get into a war. I came here for peace, and quiet, and solitude, and I won’t have a bunch of idiots screwing up my good time. So, ladies and gentlemen, here are the new rules. See that river right over there to the north? That’s the point of no return,” he told them. “Anything that goes over that river won’t come back. Ever. This is your side of the river, ladies and gentlemen, and that side is mine. So all you people over on the Ohio side of the river, I suggest you clear out. In one hour, I’m taking possession of that side of the river, and I won’t be held responsible for anyone I catch on my side of the line. Do we understand one another?”

“You got some real fuckin’ guts, punk, I’ll give you that,” a new voice called. From the thoughts of those two, he knew that this was Joe Bueller.

“It’s not guts, Joe my man, it’s just plain old tiredness,” Jason answered. “See, I got really burned out after living under Faey rule for three years, and I’m at the point where I just don’t give a fuck anymore,” he said with narrowing eyes. “I came here to get away from the Faey, to find a new life, and I’ll be damned if a wannabe warlord with delusions of mediocrity is going to piss in my Wheaties. Different rules are in the game now, Little Joe. I’m the new king of the hill. Now, if you want to do something about me, why don’t you just try to cross my bridge? I’ll even let you get to Ohio. But remember my warning, Joebob; you cross my bridge, you don’t come back. Understand?”

Jason sensed the approach of two people, coming from the west, up 5th Avenue. They were about four blocks away, and they were approaching fast. Jason glanced in that direction, then stood up and picked up his railgun. “Off the bikes you two,” he ordered, though he had the radio still keyed up. “And if either of you lean in the direction of the guns, you’ll lose anything that goes in that direction. Understand?” They quickly got off the bikes and backed up. “Good, now turn around, kneel, cross your ankles, and put your hands on your head.” They complied. “Very good. Now, if either of you value your hides, you’ll clear out,” he told them as he shouldered his railgun, then collected up their rifles and pistols. He stomped on the tire of the smaller bike, bending it to the point of unusability, then picked up the larger bike and mounted it. “Oh yeah, Joe,” he called over the radio. “Trev here thinks you look sexy in leather panties.”

“You son of a bitch!” the one named Trev shouted hotly.

“Don’t see why, myself. I’ve never thought beached whales in dead cowhide were particularly attractive,” Jason mused conversationally. “Guess I’m just weird that way.” He unkeyed the radio and put his foot on the pedal. “Well gentlemen, I hope you’re not too inconvenienced. I’m off to claim my side of the river. I suggest you find a new line of work. Oh, and have a nice day,” he added, then pedalled off quickly.

It wasn’t easy riding with three rifles slung over his shoulders, but he managed well enough. He didn’t have to far to go, and all he had to do was beat the first patrol back to the park. The closest of them was the one moving in from the west, and they were going to go to the library first, to try to catch him. He was already halfway to the park by the time they got there, threading his bike between two burned-out cars on 3rd Avenue. By the time those roving guards had reached the other two and found out what was going on, Jason was already on the far side of the floodwall and riding back to his skimmer. By the time they were at the street leading to the bridge, Jason was back inside his skimmer and had it powered up. The skimmer wasn’t visible from the top of the bridge, so Jason just leaned back in his seat and put his hands behind his head and waited, using his telepathic ability to keep track of what was going on out there. He let those two get about halfway across the bridge, as Joe screamed and yelled over the radio for them to find him, then brought up the skimmer’s engines and lifted off the ground. He urged the skimmer forward, out over the river, quickly overtaking the two bicycles above. He punched up some speed and came out from under the bridge, then swung the entire ship around as he rounded the edge of the bridge, establishing himself right in the middle of the end of the iron gridwork that acted as support for the bridge’s weight.

The two bike riders saw that blue monstrosity appear at the end of the bridge, and one of them fell off his bike, rolling on the bridge several times. The other slid to a halt, his wide face fixed with shock and a little terror. Jason flipped on the external speaker and fixed the headset on his head. “That’s right,” he called. “Mine’s bigger.” He picked up the radio he’d pilfered and keyed it up. “Go ahead and tell them, boys,” he called over that radio. “Make sure they understand.”

“He’s-he’s-he’s got a fuckin’ plane!” he heard the one still on the bike reply.

“That’s right, boys and girls, I’ve got a plane,” he affirmed over the radio. “And what do you know, I know how to fly it. So, let’s make this clear one more time, people. That side of the river is yours, this side of the river is mine. Anyone crossing my bridge is going to get the shock of his life.” He engaged the skimmer’s defensive weaponry, which caused gunports on each side of the ship to open, and the barrels of MPACs to extend. “Tell them what you see,” he prompted over the radio.

“He’s pointin’ guns at us,” the mounted guard said in a frightened voice. “Guns mounted on the plane.”

“Now that everyone understands exactly what’s going on,” he said over the river, urging the skimmer forward just a little, “we can come to a mutual understanding. That understanding is simple, Little Joe. I own this side of the river. Come over here, and you won’t be going back to your side. And believe me, I have no intention of going on your side.”

“Are you crazy buddy? You stole a Faey plane! They’re gonna come after you!” Joe said fearfully.

“Let them,” Jason said coldly. “I told you before, Joe, I don’t fuckin’ care anymore. If they want this plane back, they can bring their bony blue asses down here and try to take it from me. I’m not going to be afraid of them anymore. No more. It’ll be quite the show for you guys on that side of the river, I’ll wager.”

“Buddy, you are crazy,” Joe said grimly.

“If that’s what you think, then you’d better not push things,” Jason growled. “Because I will make sure that anyone that comes on this side of my river never gets back across the bridge. And if you’re thinking of trying to sneak over here and harass me, well, you never know, I just might snap and burn Huntington to the ground in a psychotic fit. I certainly have the means.” He blew out his breath; he was getting just a little angry. “Anyway, that’s the deal. I won’t bother you, you won’t bother me. I’m willing to be a quiet neighbor, but I won’t ever help you, and be assured that I will never take sides. You’ve made your way be killing other people, other Americans, for what you have. No matter how bad you think things were, you made them worse by turning your back on your fellow man. So go ahead and fight your stupid war, but keep it on that side of the river. As far as you should be concerned, that land on the other side of the river is the far side of the moon.”

He turned off the radio, blowing out his breath again, then realized those two were still there. “Go back to your side,” he called over the loudspeaker. “And never come back.”

The one still on his bike turned and pedalled furiously towards the other side of the bridge, and the other one didn’t even bother trying to get his bike back. He just got up and ran for the other side.

That went moderately well. Now they understood that they were dealing with someone with vastly superior firepower, and seemed crazy enough to use it. Jason withdrew the skimmer and slid it back under the bridge, parking it on a little street that went under the bridge. He didn’t want to live out of the skimmer with it being exposed to the other bank of the river, so he needed to go back to that little town to the west of the bridge and find a house to occupy. It had to be close to the skimmer, but out of the direct line of sight of the opposite bank. He could tell by using his talent to sweep the far bank that they were well away from the bank of the river, but he also didn’t want to run the risk that someone he thought was far enough away happened to have a very accurate gun. It was almost sunset, so it was best to just wait until it was dark.

He didn’t have long to wait. He watched the sun set in the west as he listened to the Faey traffic control frequency, listening for any sign that they were coming for him, then he shut down the portable PPG, picked up a backpack and a flashlight, and headed out.

Protected from view by the dim murk of sunset, Jason crept along several streets just off the riverbank, inspecting houses. He ranged several blocks from the bridge on both sides, until he found the house he was looking for. It was about a block and a half from the skimmer, facing away from the riverbank with a block of houses hiding it from the riverbank. It was on the corner of 2nd Street and Oak Avenue, a large three story brick house with two chimneys and several nice windows that faced away from the riverbank. The door was unlocked but not broken, and the interior made it obvious that the place had been pillaged. But the rooms were large and spacious, and the place had plenty of room for him and all of his stuff. It even had an attic and a full sized basement. The place seemed defensible enough as well, placed on a corner which allowed him a good view of the surrounding area. It was the tallest house on the block as well, giving him an unobstructed view of the other side of the river if he was atop it.

He stood on the large porch, his mind already working. It would take about a week to get everything set up to his satisfaction, and he’d have to work mainly at night. He seemed to recall a pair of night goggles in that gear he bought, now that he thought of it, in the camping gear. They’d let him see as if it was bright as noontime outside. He bought so much, so fast, it was kind of hard to remember exactly what he had. Maybe a detailed inventory was in order. If anything, he’d have the time.

The first step, obviously, was securing the skimmer and the bridge itself. There were any number of things he could do to make those more than untouchable by anyone but a Faey. He also had to take into account the possibility of one of the Huntington gangs using boats to cross in unexpected areas. After those were secured, he’d have to secure the house and the area surrounding it, then devise a means of alerting him when people approached using the other two bridges across the river, both to the east and to the west. His talent was more reliable than anything else he had available to him, but he did have to sleep.

He was confident. No two-bit gang boss was going to interfere with him now. No way. He’d chosen this place to set up, and damn it, he was not going to budge. This was his place, and he was not going to give it up. Not to Joe Bueller, not to the other gangs, not to the Faey, not to anyone. This was his territory, and he would defend it to the death if that was what it took, because he was not going to move. This was his home, that was the line, and God help anyone who crossed it.

Pugnacious, yes, but he’d been feeling a tad aggressive since the epipheny that led him to find his freedom. But he did mean it, oh yes. It was better to die free than to live a slave.


Kaira, 26 Oraa, 4392, Orthodox Calendar
Wednesday, 13 July 2007, Native Regional Reckoning
Huntington, West Virginia (Native designation), Orala Nature Preserve, American Sector

The sun was warm, maybe a bit too warm, but Jason really wasn’t all that worried about that. Gently biting his tongue, he worked out in the yard of his new house, lining up with mechanical efficiency a little purple flower in the flower bed outside his house.

He was more than open about where he lived now. After all, the gangs in the city across the river had no intention of ever bothering him again, the chatter on the radio he’d stolen made that abundantly clear. They’d tried, that was for sure. He couldn’t fault them for tenacity, but no matter how clever they were, they were no match for Jason Fox.

Obviously, the first attempt was using the bridge, for it was the fastest way across the river. Joe Bueller had sent four men armed with their precious machine guns over that bridge the day after Jason arrived, at dawn. What they didn’t know was that Jason had been working all night on defending that bridge, and he was more than ready for them. They rushed across the bridge on foot, knowing that the skimmer was parked under the bridge near where it joined to the ground, intent on capturing that prize for whatever might be inside it, before the Faey came to retrieve it.

They never got off the bridge.

They got very close to the edge, and then every piece of magnetic metal they owned suddenly slammed to the ground. Their Uzis and Tek-9’s were ripped from their hands, their belt buckles yanked them to the ground, metal pocket knives tore holes in their jeans, and one unlucky fellow had his earlobes ripped when his earrings suddenly slammed to the ground. It took them a few minutes to disengage their metal objects, for all four had to take off their pants and squirm out of them due to metallic objects in their pockets, or rivets in the pants themselves. They all tried to yank their guns off the bridge, but found them stuck fast. When Jason appeared on top of a house near the bridge, railgun prominently displayed, they all turned and ran back for the other side of the bridge. Jason used binoculars to look over on the other side of the bridge after getting down off the roof and saw Joe Bueller himself, looking through binoculars back at him from the top of a building on the other side. Jason blew him a kiss, which made him start silently shouting and throw his binoculars to the ground.

Later that day, Jason came out, collected up the items left behind, protected from snipers by the curvature of the bridge, then retreated back out of sight.

Oh, the joys of plasma magnets.

The next attempt was by boat. Bueller sent over three men in a boat in the middle of the night, and they were very good. They used oars instead of a motor, and got across the river and to the far bank. They quickly moved towards the skimmer, moving stealthily and covering each other, until they were all up to the skimmer. The stairs were down, but the hatch was closed. They seemed nonplussed at that, for the access panel beside the door was open, waiting for someone to come along and open the door. One of them whispered that this was way too easy, and the other two agreed. So they all got back and looked around, then carefully touched the access panel with a stick they’d found laying nearby. Nothing happened. A few other careful tests displayed nothing untowards, so they calmed down a little and tried to get the door open.

A few seconds after they tried again, the entire area around the skimmer suddenly became alive with electricity. Arcs of electricity danced around the skimmer, impacting the bridge, the ground, and the three men, making their hair stand on end and causing their muscles to lock in electrocution paralysis. The lightning storm lasted almost five seconds, then ceased as quickly as it began. All three men collapsed to the ground with smoke wafting up from their clothes, though all three were very much alive. A little while after they’d been hit by the skimmer’s theft prevention system (which was standard on most skimmers), Jason came out and stripped them naked, then left and hid a discreet distance away. He waited for them to wake up, then came back with his railgun as if to finish them off. The three naked men scrambled back down to the river and jumped in their boat, then started the engine and raced for the opposite bank. Jason let them get about halfway, then he allowed them and the men watching from the far bank to see his railgun fire. There was that familiar BEE-yah sound followed up by the loud bang, like the crack of a large whip, but the round was already buried twenty feet in the opposite riverbank, below the water’s surface. It had gone right where Jason had aimed it, through the neck of the outboard motor and through the back of the boat. The round struck with such speed and force that it didn’t shatter the boat, it simply punched a hole in it. The outboard motor, however, had the neck snapped in half from the impact, which broke the propellor away from the motor. The three men looked back in surprise, and saw the outboard motor suddenly start to smoke. They saw the dissipating corkscrew smoke trail that led back to the far bank, and it didn’t take them long to make the connection. They jumped up and jumped overboard just as another corkscrew trail simply appeared, hitting the outboard motor squarely, then igniting the gasoline in it. The boat caught fire immediately, and illuminated the heads of the three men as they swam frantically for the far shore. Jason lowered the railgun and looked on with satisfaction, then simply went back to his house.

That taught them that they weren’t getting anywhere near the skimmer, so, since Bueller wasn’t dumb, he knew that the only way to get past the skimmer’s security system was to have the owner shut it off. The next attempt was the next night, as a group of six, armed with more machine guns, crossed the river by boat a goodly distance east of the skimmer, then made their way to the bridge on foot. After they got there, to the little town of Chesapeake, which was where Jason had set up shop, they fanned out and started searching for his house. He let them come in, let them get close to his house, and then he activated his countermeasure.

The little town of Chesapeake suddenly began to vibrate. There was no other explanation for it. The ground buzzed like an angry hornet, which spooked the invaders, and caused them to retreat back towards the bridge. Or at least try.

One by one, they all went to set foot in the street, and when they did, they found their feet sinking into the asphalt. Whatever it was didn’t affect the ground or the concrete under the asphalt, just the asphalt itself. They all found themselves ankle deep in what was supposed to be a solid rock surface, and much to their horror, the now permeable asphalt street clung to their feet like thick mud, making it extremely hard to pull a foot out of it. It didn’t help that every single one of them had fallen when the ground had grabbed their feet, so they all had their hands in it as well, and most had their knees down in it too. Jason observed from the window of his house, and when his talent told him he had all six ensnared, he shut off the device that was causing a rare effect called liquifaction. It was a phenomenon where a solid material became semi-liquid when exposed to a certain frequency of sound or vibration. By setting his emitters to a specific composite frequency, it allowed them to induce liquifaction into the asphalt-specifically the tar that glued the asphalt together-but cause no damage or harm to any other material. When the device was shut off, the asphalt instantly hardened, entrapping them all within it.

He gave them a few minutes to struggle frantically, then came out of his house. He was carrying a baseball bat, a pair of large pruning shears, and a portable radio/CD player. All six were trapped within two hundred feet of each other, and he would be visible by all of them by setting up at the corner leading to the bridge. He did so, putting the radio down and turning it on, filling the street with the gentle melodies of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. He then put down the baseball bat, and snapped the pruning shears shut a few times. “Good evening, gentlemen, and ladies,” he had told them, nodding at the two women and four men calmly. “I seem to recall warning you not to come over here. Well, I’m going to have to do something about that, I suppose.” He had shouldered the shears as he stood up. “I know I said you’d never go back if you came over here, but I’m really not into murder. It’s not my thing. I’m the kind of guy who much prefers letting you drag your asses back over that bridge thoroughly humiliated. Death isn’t much of a life lesson, you understand. So, let’s commence, shall we?”

They were probably afraid he was going to torture them or cut off their noses or something, but when he started on the first person he reached, a middle-aged woman with tanned skin, some wrinkles, and dark hair, they understood. Jason used the shears to literally cut the clothes off her body, took her weapon, then used those shears to cut the hair off her head. What he left behind was so laughably uneven that only a shaved head was going to fix it. She screamed bloody murder as he cut off her hair, and continued to curse vituperously after he moved on to the next person. He had gone right on down the line, systematically stripping each person, then cutting off their hair. When he was done, he collected up their guns and the scraps over their clothes, then wandered back to his house. He left them stuck out there all night, and went back out in the morning to get them out. He activated the harmonic emitters he had buried around his house and allowed them to pull themselves out, then marched them all to the bridge after forcing them to remove their shoes and socks. He made them march over that bridge naked as they day they were born and with their hair cut off with pruning shears... so needless to say, they were a sorry looking lot indeed.

Joe Bueller had an absolute fit, he heard over the radio after he sent the invaders packing. Not only did they fail, but they also lost four more machine guns, and they were running dangerously low on them.

With that afternoon came the culmination of Joe Bueller’s temper. Twenty men and women launched from boats at the park and motored over in what could only be called an armed assault. They landed about a quarter mile east of the bridge, then stormed towards Chesapeake with Joe Bueller himself leading them. Jason’s skimmer’s sensors picked them up and relayed the alert to his remote, and Jason just sighed and closed the book he was reading and went to deal with them. Instead of going outside, he instead went to his basement, then waited for them to get close enough. Once they were, he simply activated the last and most effective of his personal safety measures, yet another sound-based concept. It was the same basic idea as the itchers he’d had Symone plant on the armor of the Marines that last day, but since he didn’t have the materials to build a bunch of individual ones, he instead went with the idea of a speaker. It was located atop the steeple of the church down the block, and when he activated it, it emitted a hypersonic frequency that would create a similar effect. The closer they got to the steeple, the worse the itching would get. Jason had a damper going down in the basement, which was why he retreated to it.

He waited until they were literally on top of the church, and he turned it on. He had a camera up there as well, so he had the opportunity to see it in action. He felt it against his skin as well, despite the damper, as a feathery touch all over him. Those outside, however, suddenly felt like they were dipped into vats of live fire ants. He watched with clinical interest as they all suddenly went wild, squirming, thrashing, most of them dropping to the ground and rolling around, doing anything they could to make it stop. He let them endure it for about five minutes or so, when they started drawing blood clawing at themselves, then he shut off the speaker. He picked up one of their radios and keyed it up. “Fun, wasn’t it? That was the low setting. Want to see high?

“No, I don’t think you would,” he added when Joe Bueller went for his radio. “Now that you’ve done went and put yourself on my side of the river, it’s time for one of those important life lessons I’m so fond of handing out. All of you out there on my street, start stripping. All of it.”

“You son of a bitch, there’s no way in hell-” Joe Bueller started, but Jason simply turned the speaker on again. His transmission was cut short when he dropped the radio and started rolling around on the ground again. He let it go on for about a minute, then turned it back off and brought the radio up to his mouth again. “Temper, temper,” he chided lightly. “Face it, Joebob, you’re not getting out of here with your clothes. Now, you can continue to fight and be an idiot and make everyone else suffer with you, or you can behave like a good little madman and start stripping. And if you do do that, I’m fairly sure that they’ll all be really unhappy with you when you do manage to get back on your side of the line. Now, all of you, start stripping. You have one minute, and the clock is ticking.”

Everyone else immediately started tearing off their clothes. They did not want to go through that again. Joe Bueller, however, seemed unwilling to do so. He got to his feet, his shoulders huffing as he seemed to be trying to control a violent temper tantrum. The others started shouting at him-Jason couldn’t hear it, his camera was video only-and Joe Bueller suddenly reached down and snatched up his M-16. Jason quickly got to his feet and reached for the button on his remote as he whirled around and brought up the barrel of that weapon, his intent obviously to cut down his own people. Jason realized he wouldn’t have time, that the hypersonic speaker wouldn’t stop him in time. He had to take direct action.

Jason had never attacked another before in earnest, but Jyslin had taught him well. She had taught him how to attack and take control of a human mind, and he executed that attack instantly. He drove a spear of consciousness into Joe Bueller’s mind, and felt that mind instantly yield to the power of the blow; human minds, which had no active talent, were defenseless against a telepath. In an instant, he was inside Joe Bueller’s mind, and he moved at the speed of thought. His power sought out the part of Joe Bueller’s brain that dealt with motor control, and then wrapped his power around it to smother any activity.

Joe Bueller’s muscles locked up, even in the act of pulling the trigger. The others looked at him with strangled expressions, then their eyes furrowed in confusion, for he was standing as still as stone, though his own eyes were wild and almost frenzied.

Jason brought the radio up again. “Would one of you kindly relieve Mr. Bueller of his gun?” he asked grimly. “I assure you, right now he can’t move or speak, so it’s perfectly safe. What I’m doing to him will do him harm if I keep it going for too long, so do it quickly.” A young, rather pretty woman rushed up and ripped the rifle out of Joe Bueller’s hands, then trained it on him. “That’ll do, young lady,” Jason snapped, even as he reached deeper into Bueller’s mind. He touched on the man’s memory, then carefully wiped out the last few seconds, the part that would allow Bueller to remember the attack and realize that Jason was telepathic. Then he touched one of the baser functions of his brain and caused Joe Bueller to pass out. The portly man collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap. He’d remain unconscious for about an hour or so, but that was more than enough time. “When he wakes up, he won’t remember what happened,” Jason told them. “But we digress. All of you, strip. And when you’re done, strip Bueller. The clock is ticking, ladies and gentlemen.”

He watched the monitor as the nineteen men and women quickly stripped bare, then two of the bigger men dutifully pulled the clothes off Joe Bueller. Bueller, it turned out, was noticably fat, where all his followers looked undernourished. “Very good. In the brown house on the corner behind you, you’ll find a wheelbarrel in the garage. Someone go fetch it, then dump Bueller into it. I’m not going to make you carry him. As fat as he is, that’d be cruel and unusual punishment.”

One of the men rushed over and pulled the large, dirty wheelbarrel out of the garage, then four men hauled Bueller up-none too gently either-and dumped him in the wheelbarrel. His arms and legs dangled out of it.

“Very good. Now, this is the third time you’ve come and broken the rules, people. I’m losing my patience. I’ve been accommodating this far because I know that you just couldn’t resist the temptation, and I really don’t like to hurt people. But, now that you see just how forbidden this fruit is, I do hope you’ll realize that it’s out of your reach. I’m growing tired of being merciful, people. Next time you come over here, I send you back in a box. Do we understand each other? Just nod if you do, I’ll see it.” Every one of them nodded. “Good, good. So, who’s rolling Bueller back over the bridge? Raise your hand.”

They all looked at each other, then one man raised his hand.

“Ok, you who raised your hand, put your shoes back on. You’ll chew your feet up trying to roll that heavy load up the bridge.” They all watched the man put his boots back on, the young pretty lady who’d pulled the gun from Bueller’s hands trying to cover herself with her hands. Jason found that amusing for some reason, like the stubborn denial of truth. When he was done, Jason disengaged the power to the speaker. “Alright, all of you, march. Up the bridge, leave everything behind. I will be watching, so don’t get any ideas. Oh, and have a nice day.”

That was the last time he heard anything from Joe Bueller’s gang. The gang in the west end, after hearing about Jason, certainly made their own attempt, but their four man raiding party, riding in on bicycles in the middle of the night, had the bad luck of getting there after Jason had time to dig into his box of junk and scrape together the parts to build a proximity sensor that automatically activated the hypersonic irritater. Jason simply moved his bedroom down into the basement. They too left Chesapeake naked, but unfortunately for them, they had a mile’s hike to get back to the west end bridge.

Needless to say, Jason had quite a collection of guns and bicycles now.

But, things looked to be calming down. He still had the radio the gang used, and from what he’d pieced together, Joe Bueller had met with an unfortunate end soon after getting carted back over into Huntington. He wasn’t sure what happened, but odds were that one of the people who’d had the business end of that M-16 pointed at them took serious offense to the idea that Joe Bueller was going to shoot them because he was angry. He had no idea who was in charge now, but the last couple of nights he’d heard sporadic gunfire to the east. It seemed that Bueller’s replacement was having a territorial issue with the gang that controlled Guyandotte and Barboursville.

As long as they kept it over there, he really didn’t care what they did.

Today wasn’t like any of the other days, though. He didn’t know exactly when it was, but he knew that his physical appointment had to have come and gone, so they knew that he was not in New Orleans. Well, they knew that already, but now they knew that he hadn’t come back. So, it meant that from here on out, he wasn’t going to be overlooked. He still listened carefully to the Faey traffic channels, listening for any hint that they had a transport or search party out looking for him, because he knew that they were going to start looking for him soon. If they had any logs or records of his flight path from the space-based sensors, they were going to know where he was, and were probably going to send a detachment out to find him pretty soon. Many of the defenses he had up around his skimmer and his house were intended for the Faey as much as they were for the gangs. He’d have many more up, but he simply didn’t have the parts to put anything else in place, not without starting to take apart some of his other equipment. That simply wasn’t going to happen. He would simply have to rely on what he had. He was pretty sure that the sonic emitter on the steeple of the church was going to be very effective. It was going to make it clear to the Faey that he wasn’t about to budge, but it would be effective.

That morning, he had done what was necessary. He had emptied his skimmer out of all gear and equipment, then shut it down. He didn’t even leave the security system on, since the threat of it would most likely more than suffice. From this day forward, they were going to be looking for it. The plasma signature of his smaller PPGs may or may not have showed up on their sensors, so he shut down the largest one, the one that came from the habitat module, and relied on the small ones to power a piece of equipment by itself, and only when it was needed. He had one on his Faey transceiver, so he could monitor traffic frequencies, and also used that one to power his portable stove. He relied on portable lamps for light.

He’d gone out to do some scavenging of his own yesterday and today. There were lots of houses on his side of the river, as well as a K-Mart and Walmart a few miles west, which had been all but stripped bare. He wasn’t after what most others were after, however. He scavenged some furniture and some decent dishware (which required extensive cleaning before it was usable), and also hunted down some supplies and equipment to get his house back in proper working order. Things like flashlights and batteries were long gone, but Jason found lots of light fixtures and light bulbs at the Lowe’s home improvement store just past Walmart. He scavenged some of those things, then used it to repair the wiring in the house. After severing the house from the unused power grid, Jason was able to get the electricity back on in the house using one of his smallest PPGs and a simple generator he built out of his rapidly dwindling supply of spare equipment. Generating electrical power was something that was considered child’s play to the Faey, and that tiny module with its slapdash generator could probably power the entire city block by itself. The lack of running water had Jason concerned, so he went through the plumbing section in Lowe’s to try to come up with some ideas. A water tank with a portable pump, maybe. He’d have to dig up the water line and break into it, then hook up the water tank to it. Wastewater wasn’t much of an issue, since the house was connected to the city’s sewer system, and that gave it somewhere to go. Purifying the water was another issue, but not a hard one to solve, for the habitat module had a water purification system installed in it. He could take that out and install it somewhere in the water line.

Getting water and power back up in his house were important, but it was also important not to draw too much attention to himself. The Faey would know exactly where to go if they saw a single house with lights on, given his background in engineering. Getting the power back on in a house would be child’s play to him, and they knew that. He’d already addressed that problem, however, by scavenging some very heavy drapes that weren’t in too bad of shape from several houses. They weren’t exactly going to match his hodgepodge furniture, but he wasn’t doing this with an eye out for fashion. He was not going to live in the dark. He just needed to take certain precautions.

Jason looked up as a gust of wind blew past him. Wind. It was always blowing out here, most likely because of the river. With a little work, he could get a windmill of sorts up that could generate some electricity, get the whole block some power. And the water system was still intact, it just lacked the power to operate... well, and qualified technicians to watch over it. But, he could tap into the river’s water and set up a very small purifying plant of sorts, a single large tank with one Faey water purification system on the intake valve. Rework the piping to close off the other blocks... he shook his head. There was no reason to do any of that except for maybe the challenge of it. It might be fun though, give him something to do. Having things to do was important right now. Keep his mind occupied. The game with the gangs across the river was entertaining, but very, very short. In a way, that was very good, because he didn’t feel like endlessly scrapping with them. It did, however, keep his mind occupied, kept him from worrying too much.

Kept him from dwelling on the past, and that was past was his friends. He hoped Tim was doing alright, and as much as he hated to admit it, Symone, and Jyslin... and also Maya now. He’d never thought he’d be worried about Faey, but Jyslin and Symone, they were friends. Friends. Jyslin was more than a friend, he had to admit. Yes, he had Faey friends, and he was strongly attracted to a Faey. But fate had written a different set of circumstances. Everything about Jason that made him what he was wouldn’t allow it, and if he changed to allow it, it was making him something other than what he was. He’d realized that before he left, realized that by bending for Jyslin, he was turning his back on his highly regarded principles, and those principles defined him. Maybe he was too proud, a bit too arrogant, but that pride was a part of him, and without it he would be lesser of a man. He’d been so infatuated with his telepathic talent that he had bent over backwards to justify fraternizing with Jyslin just so he could explore this strange, exciting power. And even now, he had to admit that he liked Jyslin and Symone, that he did care about them. It was hard for him to rationalize that, for they were Faey. He was having feelings for the enemy. He hadn’t wanted to, but it was so easy to see Symone and Jyslin as something other than Imperial agents after spending so much time with them.

Yes... Symone and Jyslin were friends.

Ok, he admitted that to himself. Finally. He did find, though, that it didn’t change his mind all that much. They had made decisions that placed them on the other side of the line he had drawn in his own mind, and so had Tim for that matter. But then again, Tim wasn’t really ready to do something like what Jason had done. He would be too afraid, and despite not liking the Imperium, he did like the luxuries of his position. Tim hated the Imperium, but not on philosophical grounds, only on personal grounds. If they treated him well, he would be content. If they did not, he would not be. Jason couldn’t really fault Tim for that, though. He was a generous man, with a good heart and a kind disposition, but he, like most humans, was more concerned with his personal well-being than the state of the human race as a whole. That attitude stemmed from the feeling of hopelessness that almost every human felt, knowing that there was absolutely no way to escape from Faey domination. So Tim, like so many people, was just trying to make the best of it he could. Many saw his relationship with Symone as selling out-those who didn’t know Symone, in any case-but those who did knew better. Sometimes one just had to close one’s eyes to certain boundaries when two people who were meant for one another managed to meet. He had no doubt that Tim and Symone would be together until death parted them. May God see to it that that was seventy years down the road.

Despite their political or philosophical views, they were still his friends, and he would always care about them.

Wiping his brow, he looked at his little flower garden and nodded. He’d found the plants at Lowe’s growing wild in a grassy patch in the parking lot. They’d somehow managed to take root and grow in that patch, until Jason dug them up and brought them home, that is. It took a while to separate them, and he wasn’t sure they’d all live, but they looked a heck of a lot better in his front yard than they did competing for sunlight with the weeds that were overgrowing them. After he was done, he pulled an ancient manual grass mower out of the garage of the house beside his own, one of the old, old rotary clipper styles, then proceeded to mow the lawn. Yes, it would make the house stand out, but he just couldn’t stand to see that knee-high grass any longer. It took him about an two hours to mow around the front and side yard, since the grass was so high, then another hour to mow the back. He went in for a drink and to check the Faey traffic radio, then came back out and started raking up the clippings.

About halfway through, he started hearing it. It was distant, faint, but approached rapidly. It was an engine, a gas engine, and from the sound of it, it was a motorcyle. It got very close, and from the sound of it, it passed by on Route 7, north of his street. It got to about the bridge, then it seemed to turn around. Jason swept out with his power and touched on a single mind, the rider of that motorcycle. The thoughts of that mind told Jason that it was specifically looking for him, but had no hostile intentions. Jason realized that the magnet trap was still active, and he fished in his pocket for the remote that would turn it off in case whoever it was went up over the bridge, but by the time he had the remote out, he spotted the motorcycle and the rider.

It was a woman wearing a pair of dirty blue jeans with black chaps over them, and a white tee shirt with a black leather vest atop it. She wore no helmet, but did have on a pair of old-fashioned goggles. Her hair was very, very long, black and straight, and it looked tangled and dishevelled from her riding about. She looked in both directions, then spotted him and turned her bike towards him. She was riding a Harley Hog, a massive machine that most women wouldn’t dare to ride, due to the motorcycle’s great weight. But this woman seemed to have no trouble with it, coming to a stop on the street right in front of him, then putting a booted foot down for a moment before turning off her machine. She kicked the stand down, then leaned back on her bike and raised her goggles. She was a surprisingly lovely black woman, without the wideness that was pattern in people descended from the cradle of civilization. There was a delicate fineness about her features, with her high cheeks and sharp chin, and a slight slant to her eyes that hinted that this woman had some Asian ancestry somewhere in her bloodline. But the mixture of Asian and African lineage gave her the best of both worlds, for this woman was both beautiful and tall. He realized that when she stepped over the bike and stood before him. She was easily six feet tall, maybe a bit more, and possessed of a figure that was perfectly proportional to her height. Her thoughts were guarded, but were also hopeful.

“Well, you must be the new guy,” she said in a distinctive Southern drawl. “Welcome to the neighborhood, sugah.”

“Excuse me, but who are you?” he asked.

“Temika,” she answered. “Temika Daniels, sugah. I just rode down from Chilocothe and heard that someone done went and kicked Joe Bueller’s ass. Ah just had to come meet you. Maybe kiss you, I hated that vicious bastard.”

“Well, nice to meet you. I’m Jason Fox,” he said, extending his hand. She looked at it, then gave him a nervous glance.

“Sorry, sugah, I don’t like tah touch people,” she hedged. “It ain’t no offense or nuthin’, I promise. Hope you understand.”

Curious, Jason opened himself to listen to her thoughts. She was very worried about touching him, or just about anyone else, for that matter. She didn’t want it to happen. He had no idea what it was, but whatever it was, Temika was quite fearful of it. It wasn’t an irrational fear, it was an almost cold, logical fear. Odd.

“Might you see fit to offer a gal a drink? It gets dusty out on the road,” she said hopefully.

“Just water, I’m afraid.”

“Sugah, that’s about all there is,” she laughed. “I heard you just come from outside, it certainly shows.”

Jason gave her a second look. “Hold on. You wouldn’t be the Temika Daniels who played for the Volunteers, would you?”

She laughed. “I’m surprised anyone remembers that,” she said. “But yeah, sugah, that’s me.”

“Surprised to see you out here,” he said. “Come on in, I’ll get you some water.”

“Well, it wasn’t entirely my choice,” she told him as she followed him. Jason closed his mind again; he had a strange feeling that this strange woman could potentially be a friend, and he didn’t want a stray word to slip and make her suspicious. “Ah bitch-slapped a blueskin cause she got in mah face, and got hauled to one of their ‘re-education centers’,” she grunted. “Had a mindbender mentally rape me with a cattle prod, then they sent me to a farm. Ah was never much of a farmer, so Ah skipped out a few days after Ah got there. Mama always said my temper’d get me in hot water,” she said with a chuckle. “Ah been out heah for about two years or so. I do pretty well for mahself. Ah get by running stuff back and forth for some of the more friendly people out heah. Between what Ah can get doin’ that and what Ah can scavenge, Ah get by. Long as Ah can get gas for my bike, Ah’m as happy as a pig in mud.”

“You trade?” he asked, looking back at her as he opened to front door.

She nodded. “They ain’t all like Jim Bueller and the gangs in Huntington, sugah. The peoples up in the hills, they more friendly, if’n you approach them the right way, you understand. Cause Ah got a bike and the nerve to run the roads, Ah do fairly well enough deliverin’ stuff from one place to anothah. The Becketts up in Fort Gay send eggs to the Prices ovah in Ona, who send a jug of milk down to the McMarrins in Wayne, who send some meat back to the Becketts. That kinda thing, you see.”

“And you’re the delivery girl.”

“You bet, sugah,” she grinned as she sat down at the kitchen table, where he motioned. “Ah also shuttle information around, keep everyone in touch with what’s goin’ on. Every gang and the unfriendlies around heah would just love to shoot me off mah bike, but they ain’t managed it yet. They lost count of the raids Ah done ruined when Ah spotted them slinkin’ up into the hills.”

“How many people are out there?”

“Not as many as it sounds, sugah,” she answered. “Once you get out of the bigger towns, you can go twenty miles before you see a single soul. The towns are where the stuff is, though, so that’s where most people come. If they lucky, they get shot. If they not, they become those bastard gang members,” she spat.

“Why don’t those people out there just move away from the cities?”

“Cause they ain’t as self-sufficient as some others,” she answered. “The lucky ones, they got small farms out there, livestock, stuff like that. They’s the ones that live way out, way down the back roads, where the raiding parties won’t go. Those people who live by scavenging, they gotta live where the stuff is, you understand. They mainly nomads, you see, moving into an area and tryin’ tah find the houses ain’t nobody else found, then move on when the food’s all gone. And when they get desperate, they come down into the cities, tryin’ tah find stuff and get out before they done get caught. Some have learned tah hunt, and some tah fish, but most that don’t got the setup still have to scavenge food tah make it. The raids the gangs send out, they more to catch those kinds of folk than they are to catch the locals. They know bettah than to go aftah some of the locals.”

“Why is that?”

“They’d get dead, that’s why. The locals who live near town, they’re dug in like an Alabama tick, sugah,” she answered. “The gangs learned that lesson the hard way. Those raids, they generally just go ‘round and try tah find new houses, and pick off anyone they catch out in the open. They know where it ain’t healthy tah go, cause they ain’t all gonna come back.” She took a long drink from the glass of water he gave her. “It’s cold!”

“I got the electricity going,” he told her.

“Well, Ah’m gonna come visit you more often, sugah,” she said with a brilliant white smile. She obviously kept up with her oral hygiene. “When it gets hot. Why ain’t you got the AC on?”

“I have to fix it,” he answered.

“Get tah work, sugah,” she laughed.

“So, what made you seek me out?” he asked.

“Just checkin’ out the new neighbor, sugah,” she smiled. “And of course, an opportunity for a new customer. If’n you ever need anythin’, or need somethin’ sent somewhere else, you’re lookin’ at the gal for the job. Oh yeah, y’all need a CB, sugah, most people ‘round here use CB channel 19 tah talk tah each other.”

“They should listen in on the gangs,” Jason grunted. “They use radios.”

“They do, sugah, they do,” she winked. “The ones with scanners do, anyway.”

“I have, what, eight of them? You can have a couple.”

Temika laughed. “War trophies?”

“Something like that,” he answered. “The only guy that came to my side of the river and got back with anything managed to get away with his shoes. Every other person went back over the bridge naked. I got it all. Clothes, pocket knives, radios, guns, you name it.”

Temika laughed brightly, slapping the top of the table. Then she seemed to perk up a bit. “Guns, you say? Well, I know a few people that might like tah do some business with you on the guns. If’n you don’t want them, that is.”

“As long as they don’t use them on me, sure,” he answered. “I don’t need them.”

“Yah, we’ve heard. you got some Faey guns, and a Faey airplane.”

He nodded. “I’ve been watching to see if, or when, they’re coming after it,” he told her. “I have a pilot’s license, I know how their system works. I think I did a good job in evading their systems, but I’m not sure. If they had any orbital tracking up when I pulled my Houdini, they know where I am. If they didn’t, then I have a good chance of them now knowing where I am.”

“You were a pilot on the outside?”

He shook his head. “A student. I just got lucky and came into a little money, and used it to get a Faey pilot license. That skimmer down there is mine. I didn’t steal it, I bought it.”

“Wow, sounds like you had a good life. Why’d you give it up tah come join the rat race?”

“Because I remembered what it was like to be free,” he said simply. “And I got tired of living in fear under the Faey all the time. I decided it was better to live out here and be free than have all the money in the world, yet be part of the Faey system.”

“Heh, I ain’t sure I woulda done it if our places were swapped,” she said. “Sometimes I miss feelin’ safe. And I certainly miss air conditionin’,” she laughed.

‘A person who is willing to give up part of his freedom to feel more secure deserves neither,’” he quoted. “Benjamin Franklin said that, or something close to it. Not sure what he had to say about air conditioning, though.”

She looked at him with those almond shaped brown eyes, then burst into laughter. “Yeah, well, at least you got here with more stuff than most of us. I got here with the clothes on mah back.”

“Looks like you did well enough. A motorcycle, nice clothes, and whatever it is you have I haven’t seen yet.”

“Yeah, I do alright, but it certainly wasn’t easy,” she said with a wistful sigh. Jason had to resist the urge to listen to her thoughts. An attractive woman struggling to make it out here? He had no doubt it would have been hard. Then again, Temika Daniels was known for ferocity, not timidity. She’d been the starting center for the University of Tennessee women’s basketball team. He remember watching her play once when they played against Michigan. She was a wolverine out on the basketball court, huge compared to the other players, powerful, and very aggressive. They called her the Queen of the Glass, because she was the most prolific rebounder in college women’s basketball. Some not too kind to her in the press called her the Dennis Rodman of women’s basketball, but she really wasn’t that bad. She had the same aggressive demeanor on the court as that infamous professional player, but she didn’t pull the same off-court antics. It would have been closer to call her the Shaquille O’Neal of women’s basketball, for she had the same towering presence, but lacked the ego.

“Would you mind, sugah?” she asked, holding out her glass.

“Sure,” he said, taking it. He went back to the refrigerator and poured her another glass of cold water, then brought it back to the table. “How hard is it to find gas?”

“It’s gettin’ harder,” she grunted. “Ah know a few places out in the boonies where they ain’t got all the gas out of the underground tanks yet, but Ah’ve been havin’ tah range out further and further. Ah’ve been makin’ contact with more people, which is good, but Ah also don’t know the areas as well, and that ain’t good. More and more, Ah’ve been demandin’ gas as pay, but Ah can’t eat gas, you know.”

“You need an airbike,” he told her.

“Ah wish,” she said with an explosive sigh. “Ah’ve wanted one of those things since Ah saw it. Ah don’t see how Ah could ever get one, though.”

“Don’t you ever cross over into Faey territory?” he asked.

“Surely, sugah,” she said. “Ah’m one of the few who does, cause you have to sneak through their security. But not many people out heah have Faey money, and the shops out there, they don’t take trades.”

“What do you do over there then?”

“Ah deliver messages,” she answered. “They’s people on this side with kin on the outside. Ah deliver messages back and forth. They either write letters that Ah mail, or Ah use pay phones on the outside tah call ‘em.”

“Why don’t they just get cell phones? They’d never track them back in here. Hell, the Faey wouldn’t even care. As long as the people in here don’t mess with the system, they just leave you alone.”

“Them phones cost money, sugah,” she reminded him. “And that most certainly ain’t reality. Every once in a while, the blueskins send patrols out. They fan out and interrogate anyone they catch, then let ‘em go. Ah’ve been caught a few times, and it ain’t no fun, trust me. They get in your mind and take anythin’ they want. It’s like gettin’ raped,” she said with a sharp snort. “Then, if they like somethin’ you own, they just take it. That bike out there, it’s my third. They done took the other two. They don’t like send troops in heah or nothin’, but they don’t just leave us alone, either.”

“So, you know how to sneak across the border,” Jason mused. “I think we’re about to do business, Temika.”

“Yeah? Over what, sugah?”

“You’re gonna teach me how to safely get across the border, then take me across. After you do, I’ll pay you.”

“And just what are you willin’ tah pay, sugah?” she asked. “What you want’s a fair piece dangerous. Sneakin’ over the border ain’t for greenhorns, sugah. It ain’t easy. You’d better have something good tah pay for it.”

“How about an airbike?”

“As if,” she protested.

“I have two in my airskimmer, Temika. Teach me how to get across the border, and one of them is yours. I’ll even teach you how to ride it.”

“You’re serious,” she challenged.

“I’ll show them to you right now,” he offered. “I don’t need two. Teach me how to come and go across the border as I please, and one is all yours.”

“Deal,” she said instantly, putting her hand out, then blinking and quickly pulling it away.

“Don’t you want to see the airbike?”

“Sugah, you just became mah best friend,” she laughed. “Yeah, Ah’d love to see them.”

They walked out into the noontime sun and towards the bridge, and Jason took a moment to take stock of this woman. She walked easily, fluidly, but there was a tension to her steps, like she was ready to bolt at the drop of a pin, the wariness of a woman who survived by her wits and her reflexes. But there was an aire about her that let Jason trust her. He didn’t know what it was, almost like a feeling that exuded from her, but he knew that she was sincere, and that she’d do exactly what she promised in return for the airbike he had promised in return. Well, there was that, and the butt of a pistol jutting out from under the flap of her vest. A big handle.

“That’s a piece of hardware,” he noted, looking at her chest, and not at her generous bosom.

“Aww, this ol’ thing?” she asked, reaching behind her. To Jason’s surprise, she pulled out a long-barreled .44 Magnum revolver... one of the most powerful handguns ever manufactured. “It ain’t nothin much, sugah. Just for crackin’ the engine blocks of cars chasin’ me, that’s all,” she added with a sly smile.

“I’m surprised you’d carry a gun that big around. It must be hard to shoot with one hand.”

“They all know Ah have it, sugah. Just the threat of it alone’s usually enough tah make ‘em think twice. And yes, sugah, Ah can shoot it with one hand. Ah just gotta lock mah elbow, that’s all. Hurts like hell and always makes mah arm sore, but Ah can do it.”

I wouldn’t even try to shoot that with one hand. You’re a better man than me.”

“Sugah, Ah ain’t no man,” she laughed, boldly patting her breast. “Ah think these prove that.”

“Hey, in today’s world, you never know... “ he tapered off, which made her laugh again.

“Ah got Ol’ Betsy here, and Ah have a 30-30 and a sawed-off shotgun in the saddleskirts of mah Harley,” she confided, replacing the weapon in the shoulder holster that was hidden under her vest. “A girl of independent means has tah be able tah protect herself, you know.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled.

“Ah heard you got Faey guns. Care tah give a gal a peek?”

“Not on me,” he answered honestly. “I’ll show them to you later, if you still want to see them.”

She tutted. “That’s not a good idea, sugah. Nevah go out yo’ door without a gun on you. Evah. you’d be smart tah carry around a gun with you when you’re inside, tah boot. Ol’ Betsy heah don’t evah come off mah shoulder, less Ah’m takin’ a bath or Ah’m sleepin’.”

“I don’t need a gun, Temika. I have this.” He held out his remote control.

“And what’s that, sugah?”

“An absolute guarantee that nobody within a quarter mile of my house is going to do anything,” he answered. “It turns on that,” he explained to her blank look, pointing at the emitter on the top of the steeple. “It generates a hypersonic harmonic that causes severe itching. Anyone within a thousand feet of that emitter would feel like they were dropped in a vat of itching powder if I turned it on. Nobody would have the ability to shoot at me.”

“Well, what about you?”

“It would affect me too,” he admitted. “But I have a safe room in my house.”

“So you ain’t got no protection right now, ‘cept maybe me,” she said with a sneaky grin.

“I’m perfectly safe,” he said calmly. “I’m not sure the gang across the bridge even has any more guns to bring over here.”

Temika laughed as they went under the bridge, then she pulled up short and gawked at his sleek winged skimmer for a moment. “Ah always did love blue,” she sighed. “She run?”

“Yeah, but I have it powered down. The Faey would detect her if I powered her up.”

“Then they know you came heah.”

“They weren’t looking for me when I left,” he told her. “They probably are now, though. I’ve missed an appointment that made them notice I’m not there anymore. Come on, we’ll use the cargo door in the back.”

“Can you open her up without power?”

He nodded. “The doors are only power-assisted. They work just fine without power.” He unlocked the doors with his skimmer remote, then pulled them open. The two airbikes were stowed inside, side by side, at the very back of the rather small cargo area. “There they are,” he told her. “Two JX-31 recreational airbikes,” he recited, using the Faey language to give their names, as there was no way to translate it.

“Yah speak they language, eh?” she said, leaning in and looking at the bike with undisguised longing. “Yah know, they’d probably hunt me down if’n Ah started ridin’ around on an airbike,” she sighed.

“Why would they? Don’t squatters have some Faey technology out here?”

“Yeah, but nothin’ quite so showy,” she said. “Biggest thing Ah of is the vidlink that the Johnsons down by Milton have, but it don’t work no more. Ah’d be afraid they’d come flyin’ in and shoot me down.”

“I doubt it. Even if they did notice you, I doubt they’d mount an armed expedition to come in here and try to capture you. It would be a big waste of time. Besides, it’s not like you have to ride it all the time.”

“When the gas runs out, Ah will,” she sighed. “But then again, at least then Ah’ll have some reliable transportation.”

“It’s up to you, Temika,” he told her seriously.

“Ah want it,” she said immediately.

“Alrighty then,” he said, reaching in and touching a button on the side of the skimmer. It caused the maglocks to disengage. He then turned the key on the airbike, which started its engine and caused it to rise off the deck. A single hand on the seat pulled the machine out, where it hung in midair.

Now?” Temika asked. “Sugah, Ah ain’t got no way to get it outta heah.”

“You’re not taking it yet,” he told her calmly as he mounted it. “But you do need to learn how to ride it. I won’t give it to you until I’m sure you won’t immediately fall off and get yourself killed. So,” he said, reaching behind himself and patting the saddle. “For once, you have to ride shotgun.”

Temika laughed. “Sugah, Ah ain’t nevah rode in the bitch seat, and Ah ain’t about tah start now.”

“It’s the back seat or the Harley,” he said seriously. “You can’t learn riding one on your own, and I won’t let you have it until you can.”

“Yah can teach me on the ground.”

“I can teach you the controls, but until you ride one, you won’t understand what it’s like,” he told her. “These aren’t a Harley, Temika. Trust me.”

“Ah, uh, well, hellfire,” she said with a rueful chuckle. “Alright. But mind you, sugah, Ah ain’t nevah rode on a bike that Ah wasn’t drivin’ mahself.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised.

She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, then moved to straddle the airbike after getting a foot on one of the footbars. Her hand slid up his shirt, then the side of her finger made contact with his neck. That physical contact acted like a conduit, awakening his talent almost against his will. Her concern poured into him, her wariness, but also a desire, a need to trust him, to know that there really were good people out there besides the ones she already knew. She was much more nervous than she seemed to be, but she felt oddly comfortable around him, more comfortable than she’d ever felt with any stranger. The very idea that he was brave enough to walk around without a gun amazed her, impressed her so much that she was inclined to trust him, to take him at his word, even when every bit of her past experience warned her against doing that. He was so calm, so confident, he radiated a strength that reassured her, put her at ease. She felt very much at ease around Jason Fox, even though her instincts cried out against it.

She was aware of the contact. He sensed her suddenly react to the realization that she was touching his skin by immediately moving her hand, with a surge of fear accompanying it. She didn’t want it to happen again. The last time it happened, it took days for her to recover.

Now, now he just had to know. He opened his mind and touched her thoughts gently, listening to her surface thoughts, and also listening for the deeper thoughts that he could pick up without having to actively enter her mind. Like any mind, there was much more going on in there than even Temika realized. There were thoughts beneath thoughts beneath thoughts, a web of mental activity of which Temika was only dimly aware. He listened, ignoring those thoughts that didn’t answer his question, actively ignoring the opportunity to listen to any number of juicy secrets about her, like private thoughts, desires, fantasies, and needs. He kept a mental ear out for “it,” but nothing crossed her mind where he could see it. He reached out with extreme gentleness, touching her mind, trying to gain access to it without attacking or intruding. He didn’t want her to know what he was doing. She said she’d been probed before, so he had to be careful. She was a nervous, defensive woman, but her mind had no defenses in place, and he found that he could gain access to it by simply applying the lightest of pressures for a period of time, until he slipped through the natural defense that all sentient beings had around their minds, that wall of self that marked the boundary between them and the outside world. Once he was inside, he was very, very careful not to do anything that would betray what he was doing. He moved through the upper layers of her mind like a ghost, doing nothing, not looking at any of her upper-layer thoughts. What he needed to look at were her memories, so that was where he went. He touched on her memory gently, carefully, kind of rolling through them looking for any memory that involved being touched. He found one, then used that reference to track down the root cause of the event.

What he did only took the blink of an eye; the rules of time in the mindscape were much different. But when he was done, he pulled away from her, both disturbed and disgusted at the cruelty that some could exhibit.

Her fear of physical contact was a triggered reaction to what the Faey had done to her the last time they’d captured and interrogated her. That kind of deep probing required physical contact by anyone short of a Marine, and the Faey who had probed her hadn’t been all that good. She’d been damn clumsy for that matter, and caused Temika to suffer psychotraumatic shock. What that Faey had done to Temika’s mind was equivelant to someone whipping her with a scourge in a physical sense, tearing her mind open and leaving it raw and exposed, then withdrawing without trying to repair the damage she’d done. It was a miracle that Temika was even sane, but somehow, she had managed to recover, her mind healing from that brutal experience. Temika had buried the memory of that mental torture deeply into her mind, only remembering that it had involved touching. So now she had a near phobia involving physical contact, terrified that if someone touched her or she touched another, she’d suffer that pain again. It was a panic attack induced by touching, and it took her days sometimes to recover from them.

Jyslin and Symone represented the best of the Faey’s traits, and knowing them had softened his concept of the Faey Imperium. But it was times like this that he was reminded that they were the exception, not the rule.

He said nothing, allowing her to get comfortable, then he felt her lean over his shoulder to look at the controls. He explained them to her, showing her the differences involved in operating a bike that could move in all three directions, then he launched them from the street like a rocket. Temika cursed in surprise, then laughed as she got a firm grip on his waist. He turned hard, letting her feel the G-forces involved, making her understand that flying off the bike was more than a possibility if she wasn’t careful; airbikes did have seat belts, but not even those would save someone if they did a bad turn and submarined right out of the seat belt. Jason never bothered with the seat belt himself; properly driving the airbike, he’d never be in a position to need them. He was careful not to take them over Huntington, instead flying them out over the hills of southern Ohio, letting her enjoy the thrill of riding on the airbike and gawk at the view.

When he set them down by the skimmer, Temika was out of breath. “That was great!” she cried as she jumped off the back.

“Yeah, they’re fun, but did you understand how I drove it?” he asked pointedly.

“Yeah, sugah. You have tah bank into your turns or you’ll fly off, and you have to be careful with speedin’ up and slowin’ down, especially when y’all are climbin’ or droppin’.”

Jason nodded appreciatively. “Not bad, you were paying attention.”

“Sugah, they ain’t a bike been made that Ah can’t ride,” she said with a grin. “Ah want a go. Your turn in the bitch seat, sugah.”

“Not with that hair flailing the skin off my face, it’s not,” he told her bluntly. “You need to tie it up.”

“Ah like it loose, Ah love the feel of it flyin’ in the wind,” she protested.

“Yeah, and you’ll get dreadlocks if you keep it up,” he said, dismounting from the bike.

“Ah know. It’s hell pullin’ a comb through mah hair every night, but Ah do it cause Ah don’t want dreadlocks.”

“Well, I’m not riding behind you, so I’ll get the other bike out and you can ride with me,” he said. “I think you’ll be alright, you just need practice with the controls.”

“It ain’t all that much different from a Harley. You just got extra buttons, that’s all.”

It certainly wasn’t planned, but the afternoon turned out to be rather fun. Jason tutored Temika in operating an airbike, and though she was very clumsy and tentative at first, she learned very quickly. Airbikes really weren’t that hard to fly, and it took Temika only about two hours to get the hang of it. By the time the sun started to set in the west, Temika was zipping her airbike around as easily as she rode her Harley. She had her goggles down, her vest flapping in the breeze, and she looked like she was having the time of her life. She was visibly disappointed when they landed the airbikes by the skimmer, and he told her he had to put them away. “Shit, Ah’m spoiled now,” she laughed. “Mah Harley ain’t gonna feel like no fun at all.”

“You can take your airbike any time,” he told her calmly. “I trust you to hold up your part of the bargain.”

She nodded. “Any time you want tah go, sugah, just let me know.”

“It won’t be anytime in the near future. Not until I’m sure the Faey can’t find me.”

“Okay, sugah. Ah don’t listen to the CB while on the road mahself, but if I miss it, you put out the call that you’re lookin’ for me. It’ll find its way tah me, and I’ll be on the way tah you. Ah’m usually where Ah’m called within two days of the call goin’ out.” She sighed and stroked the side of the airbike she’d been riding fondly, then patted it. “Ah’ll come back for this later, sugah,” she told him. “Though Ah do much appreciateyou teaching me tah ride it today. Ah haven’t had that much fun in months.”

“Yeah, I had a good day too,” he agreed. “You gonna get home before dark?”

She shook her head. “Ah don’t have much of a home, sugah. Ah live off my bike more than anythin’ else. Ah do have a couple of places where Ah keep some stuff, but it ain’t really like no home or nothin’. Ah know a safe place to camp tonight, and it ain’t too far from heah.”

“The houses around mine are all empty,” he told her. “Just pick one. Or, if you trust me enough, you’re welcome to crash at my house tonight. I have some clean blankets and stuff you can borrow if you’re not cool with that. You’ll be completely safe no matter where you stay, that I can guarantee you. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

“No offense, sugah, but Ah’d feel much more comfortable campin’ somewhere Ah know Ah’m safe. After Ah see you’ve been around a while, Ah’ll feel alright with crashin in yo’ area. Ah have no doubt you think yo’ safe enough, but Ah ain’t so sure.”

“No offense taken, Temika,” he said calmly. “Well, if you’re going to go camp out, the least I can offer is dinner. It’s gonna be TV dinners, but it’ll be better than whatever you manage to shoot out in the forest.”

“You got yo’self a guest,” Temika said brightly. “Ah never turn down a free meal.”

It wasn’t fancy, but it was different, and that seemed to please Temika quite a bit. They literally had TV dinners, with water to wash it down. Afterwards, he showed her his plasma weapons, his railgun, and the collection of pistols, rifles, and machine guns he’d stripped off the gang members. He kept them in a box down in the basement. “Why do you sleep down heah?” she asked curiously.

“This is the safe room that protects me from the sound-based defense,” he answered honestly. “I have a damper installed down here. It nullifies the hypersonic sound.” He had no qualms with revealing those things to Temika, because the past touches he’d made on her assured him that she was trustworthy.

“Nice,” Temika said, picking up one of the Tek-9’s in his box. She was careful not to pull the trigger. “Ain’t these the ones that use nine millimeter ammo?”

“I guess so, I don’t know much about guns,” he replied absently, checking the diagnostic readout on his railgun. “You like that?”

“Yeah. This is some firepowah, sugah. If you didn’t notice, Ah’m a gal that loves her firepowah.”

“Keep it,” he shrugged.

“Sugah, this gun ain’t something yah give away,” she protested. “Shit, sugah, you could get a year’s worth of fresh eggs out of the Becketts for this thang.”

“It’s yours,” he told her. “If only because you’re the first person I’ve met out here who didn’t immediately start shooting at me. I’ve got six more in there,” he said with a slight smile. “So it’s not like I’m giving you the shirt off my back. Find one that has the shoulder strap. If you want, you can take it out and make sure it works, but no shooting up the houses,” he warned.

“Bring one of those out too,” she said, pointing at the plasma rifle he had in a gun case in the corner. “Ah ain’t never seen of those fired before.”

“Those are hunting versions, they’re nowhere near as powerful as military-grade weapons,” he told her. “You’d be disappointed. All you’d see is a red laser-beam like light, and a smoking hole in whatever it hit.”

“That sounds powerful enough to me.”

“The military grade weapons tend to make any small target they hit explode,” he explained. “Including people. Even being grazed by a military MPAC can blow off your arm. If you took an MPAC shot directly in the chest, they’d need a broom and a wetvac to pick up all the pieces. They’re very brutal weapons.”

“Eww,” Temika said with a shudder. “Too much information, sugah. That sounds really gruesome.”

“I suppose it is. The armor the Faey wear helps absorb some of that. If you shot a Faey with her own gun, she’d get injured, but it would’t blow her to pieces. From what I remember reading, the real armor they use can take several hits from an MPAC before being compromised.”

“What do ya mean, real armor?”

“The stuff they use down here is hundred year old surplus junk,” he told her. “The only things they have that are current are their guns and their hovercars. That armor the Faey wear, they stopped using it years and years ago. They use it here because conventional guns can’t penetrate it. It’s all the protection they need. Their biggest worry is that somehow someone gets hold of an MPAC, and that’s not much worry at all.”

“You got two right there.”

“No, I have two hunting rifles. Those aren’t MPACs. This is an MPAC,” he said, holding up his plasma pistol. “It’s not as powerful as a rifle, but it’s an MPAC.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Those fire a static charge of plasma. This fires a charge of plasma that exists in multiple quantum states. Think of it as the gunpowder in a bullet,” he said to her blank look. “Those use weak bullets, this uses a really strong one.”

“Oh, kinda like comparin’ a .38 to a .44,” she reasoned.

“More like a regular gun to a magnum, but yeah, something like that,” he agreed. “Well? Pick out your gun.”

She did so quickly, a Tek-9 with a shoulder strap, which she immediately slung over her shoulder. She practiced a few times with reaching down and grabbing the weapon, then pulling it forward to aim in front of her while it was still slung over her shoulder. “Good, this’ll work. Ah’ll have tah find some way tah pay you for this, sugah,” she said appreciatively. “Clem knows all about guns. Ah’ll go see him tomorrow and have him show me how tah break it down so Ah can clean it.” She laughed. “All that nine mil ammo Ah had and traded away, and now Ah got a gun that uses it. Ain’t life just the shit sometimes?”

“I can’t help you there, all I got were the guns. If you want the ammo, just go over into the city and find out where they keep all the ammo they have stockpiled.”

She laughed. “Too bad you couldn’t get some of that Faey armor fo’ me,” she told him. “Ah’d love to be bulletproof. Ah could march down intah Huntington and take on all the gangs by mahself.”

It was like a little light bulb turned on in his brain. What a great idea! “Temika, I could kiss you,” Jason said ruefully. “I never thought of that.”

“What?”

“Armor. All that access I had to stuff at school, and I never once thought of making armor.”

“You can make armor?”

He snorted. “Easily. Or I could have, back when I had access to the school’s fabrication lab. With the equipment I have here, it wouldn’t be easy at all. Unless, I get some that’s already made,” he mused absently, rushing over to the desk by his bed and sitting down. He pulled out his new panel which, thanks to backup memory sticks, had everything in it that his school panel did. Including the phone number of a certain enterprising young lady. He wasn’t too sure about accessing CivNet from here, because they might be able to use the signal to track him down, so he avoided doing that. He instead ensured that Eleri’s number was still in his panel. It was.

He put it in standby mode and stood up quickly. “I’m going out Temika. Get what you need, cause I’m locking the house up.”

“Where y’all goin’, sugah?”

“I want to check CivNet, but I can’t do it from here. They might use the panel to track me down, so I have to do that somewhere else. I’ll go up to the border with Faey territory, it might not look too odd up there. I’d be close enough to other traffic.” He grabbed a satchel that was the carrying case for a panel, then stuffed the panel down inside it, then slung it over his shoulder. He picked up the plasma pistol, then stuffed it into the belt of his jeans behind his back. “I can think of several things that would be bulletproof off the top of my head. I need to check them out, and figure out some way to get them here.”

“Okay, sugah,” she said.

It only took him a few minutes to get the house ready for him to leave. Temika climbed up onto her Harley and turned the key, then gave him a grateful smile. “You gonna be alright, sugah?” she asked.

“I’ll only be gone a couple of hours,” he told her. “Oh, don’t come back tonight. I’m gonna turn on my intrusion deterrent system. You don’t want to be here when it’s active.”

“Alright. Ah’ll come by tomorrow afternoon sometime and get that airbike, sugah. That okay with you?”

“Fine. We’ll probably be going into Faey territory sometime very soon. Next week sometime, I think. After I’m sure they’re not coming for me.”

“Ah’ll keep in touch with you, sugah,” she promised, then she started her Harley. The loud sound of its engine roared through the neighborhood. She waved to him as she rode off, and Jason watched her go. That, he told himself, was going to be one very good friend. He already liked her, and he just knew that he could trust her.

In five minutes, he was on an airbike and skimming the hilltops as he traveled northeast. He had the windscreen fully extended because he didn’t have a good visor or goggles or anything, and he spent as much time looking at the map display on the console of the airbike as he was paying attention to where he was going. The bike was in collision detection mode, causing it to gain altitude whenever its lateral forward sensor detected an obstacle within a half mile. That was the only autopilot an airbike had, but it was good enough for him as he studied the map. The Faey border ran through southeastern Ohio, and the closest populated city of any size to Huntington was Columbus. That was about an ninety minutes away by airbike, or a few hours by car. But the border was some fifty or so miles southeast of Columbus, running just north of the abandoned town of Chilocothe, which was where Temika had come from, now that he remembered. The closest settlement of any size on the border that was within what he considered to be his area of travel was a brand new town called New Eradin, which the Faey had built to be a collection area for produce and grain grown out in the fields. It had evolved into an actual town, though one built of Faey plas-crete modular buildings. It was only two miles from the border, and was about twenty miles north-northeast of Chilocothe.

That was where he was going.

He turned to line himself up with New Eradin, then opened the throttle as he tucked in behind the extended windscreen. The airbike was screaming along at nearly two hundred miles and hour, but the widscreen kept the majority of that powerful wind off of him. It didn’t keep it off his overshirt or clothes, though, so by the time he slowed down and dove down to the treetops, he realized that the tail of his overshirt was a little frayed and torn. The border of the Faey territory was about five miles ahead, and it was a dramatic one, for it marked the border of the forest. There was not a tree in sight anywhere past that line, it was all neatly maintained farmland all the way to the horizon, a horizon that held the small skyline of the town of New Eradin. He looked down in the fading light of sunset and spotted an old abandoned road, and dropped down and eased back on the throttle to follow it. He was under the treeline and out of sight. He got to within a mile of the border and set the airbike down, then hid it in the gulley made by a stream flowing beside the road and continued on foot.

When he got within five hundred yards of that border, as the trees started showing peeks of golden light from the setting sun, he stopped. That was close enough. He sat down on an old log and brought out his panel, then accessed CivNet. He knew what he was looking for, so it only took a few minutes to bring it up.

He was curious about two ideas. First, a formal set of combat armor that made it abundantly clear that he was there on business. The second was some kind of armored cloth that would be capable of stopping any bullet.

The first idea took about ten seconds. There were any number of Faey security companies that made armor for individuals, no questions asked. After all, in the Faey system, nothing was really patently illegal, you just had to be able to afford it. There were any number of these firms who manufactured combat armor for nobles. After a single search, he came up with at least 200 listings for companies that sold armor, either off-the-shelf (which wasn’t very good) or custom made to spec (which was much more common practice).

The second idea wasn’t as easy, because of the archaic nature of Terran weapons. He had to reword his search to look for impact armor, not ballistic armor, and that tagged a few matches. There was an armor material called meralite that was capable of stopping high-velocity impacts of up to 2,800 shakra per second. The armor was actually a component of an armored cloth that was designed to help protect against MPAC fire. Since MPAC fire actually relied on the velocity of the plasma charge to help induce penetration, stopping that round’s velocity was a critical aspect of protection against MPAC fire. The heat of the round coupled to its velocity caused it to burn into its target, then when it slowed, the heat interacted with the material it touched to cause the MPAC charge to explode. The volatile nature of the plasma charge caused it to start detonating the instant it hit a solid object, but the velocity of that plasma drove the explosion into the target. That’s why MPAC fire blew people apart. Most MPACs fired with a muzzle velocity of about 2,000 shakra per second, which made the weapon almost a line of sight weapon against anything within that 2,000 shakra. This MPAC armor was designed to stop the round and redirect the explosion outward, since the velocity of the MPAC charge would be stopped by the meralite layer. The armor at the impact site would be destroyed by the MPAC detonation, and the heat and some of the explosive energy of the MPAC strike would get through the armor and deal injury, but it would stop the shot and prevent instant death from being blown to pieces by the MPAC charge. MPAC armor was literally one-use armor, and it didn’t prevent injury, only reduced it. After it was hit, it was ruined, and the wearer had some burn injuries. But it would help protect the wearer against the instant death that accompanied a direct hit from an MPAC.

The reason this meralite material worked is because it was called phase cloth. It was a material that itself existed in multiple quantum states of reality, and from what he read as he researched it, it was actually a biological product, woven from the silk of certain arachnids called Mera Crawlers in the Meruki cluster. This raw silk had the unique aspect of existing in multiple states because the Mera Crawlers preyed on another organism called a Phase Beetle, that had the ability to shift its mass out of quantum phase, making it intangible and untouchable to the normal world. Evolution had provided them with a weapon to catch the phase beetles, and as a side effect, created probably the only material in existence-that he knew of-that was capable of stopping an MPAC. The Faey had since created a synthetic version that was a component in their heavy armors, but the phase cloth was still the material of choice for personal inobtrusive armor.

Very, very interesting. The Faey were using the product of an animal to help protect themselves from the lethal aspects of their own weapons. Then again, given the bloody and contentious history of the Imperium, a Faey probably needed to protect herself against her own kind much more than she did any other sentient race.

Jason did some figures in his head, and realized that this meralite armor would stop virtually any round fired from any gun. Easily. It would leave spectacular bruises and might break some bones, but it would stop the round. According to the specs of it, it was both very light and extremely strong, and was easily made into clothing. But, the material itself was rather coarse, so it wasn’t usually made as clothing, but instead sewed as an internal layer within clothing. It was most often used as a lining within clothing, but it was so light that it added very little additional weight. It was sold by some of the same armor companies that built armor for people, and either came as rough material, or came as pre-made clothing.

Alright, so there was armor out there. Now came the problem of getting it to him. He had three options that he could see. First, he could have it sent to New Eradin, then find some way to pick it up. Second, he could have it sent to Jyslin, and find some way to have her get it to him. Thirdly, he could somehow have the armor sent directly to him inside the lawless area. Each option presented its own problems and advantages, though. The New Eradin option made it easiest for him, but forced him to either place his trust in a stranger or go out there and find some way to have his items delivered to a location... maybe to a mailbox or something like that. But then he’d have to make sure that he was there at the right time to get it, then get away with his shipment. The Jyslin option put his stuff with someone he could absolutely trust, but she’d have no easy way to get it to him, and he had no easy way to get to her. The direct delivery idea got past those messy delivery issues, but it would give the Faey a hard location within the lawless area from which to start in order to find him, as well as make the deliverer answer all kinds of questions as to why they were delivering stuff inside a zone filled with squatters and outlaws.

Hmm. There was a fourth option, actually. Instead of sending it to New Eradin and finding some way to deliver it to a certain place, instead he could just pick it up directly off the drop ship, or have the drop ship meet him at a certain place in Faey territory. Those options required using an agent he could trust, and he knew just the woman.

Eleri.

For a fee, she’d deliver what he bought just about anywhere he wanted.

The heavy armor... there wasn’t much he could do about that now. The fit of the armor was critical to its ability to protect, that was why off the shelf armor was so poor. But the impact armor, that he could get immediately, and it was important to get it as quickly as he could. It was dangerous out here, and his defenses only worked as long as they were actively turned on, and they utilized Faey energy sources that might be able to be picked up by Faey sensors. Besides, he did have to leave his safe area, and eventually, someone was going to get close enough to take a shot at him, talent or no talent.

Despite having no way to get it to him yet, he needed to secure it. For now, he could either have Eleri hold it for him or have it sent to Jyslin, and then figure out how to get it later. Using the panel, he called Eleri’s number. He again reached a switchboard of sorts, manned by a bored-looking Faey man wearing the crest and livery of the Trillane noble house. “Arcuri manor,” he said.

“Eleri Trillane, please.”

“What does this concern?”

“I’m following up on a piece of equipment she sold me. She told me to call.”

The man nodded, and his face was replaced by a picture of the Trillane family crest. A few minutes later, as the forest became darker and darker with the approach of night, Eleri’s pert little face appeared on the panel’s display. The last time he’d seen her she was wearing a bikini. Today she had on a tank top of sorts that left her arms bare, but ended just below her breasts, but was all that he could see of her. Her white-blond hair was longer now, tied behind her with the tail thrown over her shoulder, to dangle down past his view. It was some kind of exercise outfit, he reasoned. “Eleri,” she said in her brusque manner, then she seemed to recognize him. “Well, if it ain’t that human inventor. Jason, wasn’t it? What’cha calling for, babe?”

“Hello, Eleri,” he returned. “I have a question and a favor to ask. You have a minute?”

“Yeah, I was about to go do some running,” she said, rising up out of the camera’s view and giving him a good look at her very flat belly for a moment, then she sat back down a bit closer to the display. “Sorry, had to sit down. So what can I do for ya babe?”

“If I gave you a list of a few things to buy, would you do that for me?”

“Well sure, but why don’t you just buy it yourself? I-oh, hold on. I see outside behind you, and it’s dark there. You’re in trouble, aren’t you!” she said with sudden excitement.

“Well, I’m going to be very soon,” he admitted with a slight smile. “Let’s say that I got tired of school, so I decided to take an extended vacation.”

She laughed. “Damn, Jason, you just make my heart sing. I’ve been contemplating heading for the hills myself, what with my conscription coming up and all. But I just keep telling myself that I’ve only gotta do it for five years, then it’s back to normal. You okay? Got a place to live? Doing alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m hiding in one of the nature preserves where the Faey don’t patrol. It’s filled with squatters and other people, and not all of them are friendly. I came here with some equipment, but I wasn’t really prepared for the idea of having to actively fight to protect myself as much as I thought I was. I need some extra stuff, and then I’ll be just fine. I can’t really buy it myself now, so I have to find someone to buy it for me. You’re about the only option I have.”

“That’s good. I kinda like you, babe. Sure, I’ll give you a hand, and it’s yet another chance to piss off my mom, though she won’t know about this,” she said with a wicked smile. “What do you need me to buy for you?”

“Armor mainly,” he said, sending her a small file with some picturs of things he was looking at. “I need protection against the old ballistic weapons my people used before the Faey came. This meralite armor cloth I found on CivNet is perfect for that. I surfed around and found a few places that sell it. I need you to buy it for me, then hold onto it until I can figure out some way for you to get it to me without either of us getting caught.”

“There ain’t no list here, babe, just some descriptions and images. What exactly do you need? I need a shopping list.”

“I don’t have one yet. This call was just to see if you could do it.”

“Yeah babe, I can do it, no problem. I’d be happy to help you.”

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that, Eleri.”

“I like you,” she grinned. “I do things for people I like. The fact that it’s more or less illegal just makes it more fun.”

Jason laughed. “Thanks, Eleri.”

“Call me Kumi,” she ordered. “All my friends do.”

A kumi was a female vulpar. It was the English equivelent of calling her vixen. “Kumi, eh?”

“That’s right, because I’m such a clever little tease,” she winked. “Besides, if you call and ask for Kumi, I’ll immediately know it’s personal.”

“Ah, I understand, Kumi.”

“Ok, so, what do you want to get?”

They went over some of the armor that was available, using an interactive window on their panels that both could manipulate and see in real time, and Jason decided on a few sets of rugged outdoor-like clothing, armored boots, and three duster-style long coats. They discussed heavy armor, and Eleri agreed that he needed to be personally fitted for it, as well as agreeing that a set of heavy armor was definitely something he should have.

“How are you on supplies? Guns? You got reliable transportation?”

“I’m fine. I have my skimmer parked under a bridge to help hide it from sensor sweeps, but I don’t have it powered up. I’m getting around on an airbike, but I’m probably going to have to park it now that they know I’m missing. I’m afraid the energy signature will be detectable from space-based sensors.”

“It will,” she affirmed, “but there’s a way around that. You need some military-grade airbikes, with signature maskers. Let’s add those to the list. You can just trade me the bikes you got for the new ones when I deliver this shit. You’ll have to pay the difference between them, though,” she warned, writing that down on a notepad she had by the panel. “Oh, shit, yeah, you’d better check to see if they froze your account.”

“They don’t know I ran away yet, only that I’m missing,” he reasoned. “I don’t think they’ve taken that step yet, because they know I have the airskimmer. Right now, they probably think I’ve either lost track of time or I might be injured out somewhere. But, if I did it right, they don’t know where to look for me. I know how the traffic control system works,” he grinned.

“If they didn’t have the space-based arrays on you when you ditched, they lost contact with you at about five hundred shakra. And I know for a fact that they don’t have the entire planet covered by the space arrays on Terra,” she said with a grin. “It’s a low priority.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you know how it works too.”

“I’ve had my class three since I was twelve, babe. Let me figure out what this is gonna cost, then you can try to thumb me the money. That way you only have to access your account once.”

“What will you say when they ask you about it?”

“Give me some credit, babe,” she laughed. “They’ll never find this bank account. It’d take them three cycles to figure out that the listed account owner doesn’t even exist. And even if they do, why I never dreamed you were a fugitive! I’m just shocked, you were such a nice guy!” she said in a little-girl voice, with a wide-eyed, innocent expression.

Jason laughed delightedly. “You’re a wicked girl, Kumi.”

“I know. Ain’t it fun?” she grinned. Then she became thoughtful. “You trust me, babe?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What money you have in that account’s gonna get frozen when they realize you’ve relocated. You won’t be able to use it. I can deliver you cash. You thumb me your whole account, and I give you the difference in cash. For a transaction fee, of course, say five percent,” she winked.

“You have the soul of a swindler, Kumi,” he chuckled.

“I like ya babe, but business is business,” she smiled. “I’ll leave that up to you. After all, you’ll be handing me the whole bundle, and there’s no guarantee that I won’t just take it and run. Then turn you in to top it all off.”

“Hell, I won’t be able to use it. I’ll agree to that, and you wouldn’t turn me in. You have a deal.”

“Coolies,” she said, scribbling on her notepad. “This isn’t gonna be cheap, babe. I’ll just claim that the new airbikes are the reason you thumbed me so much, but there might not be too much left over. We’re up to about seventy thousand here. You’re looking at over thirty thousand a bike to cover the difference in cost, going on list values.”

“I had about a hundred and seventy thousand in the account before I left,” he told her.

“Shit, new patent?” she asked with a laugh.

“Royalty payment.”

“Ah. Okay, I got it, I’m sending you my account number. Go ahead and thumb it over. I promise I’ll give you the rest in cash when I deliver your stuff.”

“I trust you, Kumi,” he said calmly. And he really did. So long as she thought she was getting into trouble but wouldn’t get caught, she’d help him. Eleri was just like that. Jason accessed his account, then authorized the transfer of his entire bank account, rounding it up to the nearest thousand to make it look official, and sent it to Eleri’s account.

“Damn, that’s a sweet sight,” Eleri chuckled when she looked at her account balance. “Okay babe, I’ll get to work on this. Call me tomorrow and we’ll work out where you’re going to meet me.”

“Meet you?” he asked in surprise.

“Of course babe, meet me. In person. That’s how you’re getting this stuff. I won’t trust this to a freighter. So, I’ve decided I’m going to take a trip to Trillane’s newest holding. Mother’s been on my ass about taking a more active role in house operations, anyway,” she sniffed. “I’m going to visit Terra, take in the sights, and perhaps go on a nature walk,” she winked. “Oh shit, what’s your size? I need those, both shirts and pants. And your height and weight. Oh, and stand up and step back so I can get a good look at you. Your body proportions matter.”

He gave her his sizes, then put the panel down and let her get a look. “Take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off, babe. Pants too.”

“Why am I doing that?” he demanded.

“Because proportions matter, babe. I can get your height weight and size, but if the proportions are wrong, they’re not gonna fit. Don’t worry, you don’t have to take it all off. Just the shirt and pants.”

He gave her a long look, but she seemed serious about it. “Alright,” he growled, setting the panel down. He then removed his shirt, shoes, and pants, and stood there in his boxer brief underwear.

“That’s good, I got a pic of it,” she told him, rather professionally. That surprised him. “You can get dressed.” He did so quickly, and she continued to talk as he did so. “Okay, let me get on this. Remember, call me tomorrow, and do your best to do it as far from where you’re set up as possible. They’ll notice if a panel’s accessing CivNet from an uninhabited zone.”

“Yeah, I’m sitting on the border of Faey territory right now,” he told her, sitting down to put his shoes back on. “Close enough for them not to be too sure where it’s coming from.”

“Clever boy,” she winked.

“Only problem is I had to ride my airbike over here, and it’s not too safe for me. I’ll have to go back home then come back later.”

“Hmm. Well, there’s really not much you can do about that. Just stay under five hundred shakra and hope whoever’s on sensor duty isn’t paying too much attention. Airbike signatures aren’t that big.”

“Heh. Whee,” he mused aloud.

“Just hang in there babe, help’s on the way,” she grinned. “I’ll be leaving for Terra the day after tomorrow, most likely. You should have this stuff in three days.” She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “I get to try out the new yacht,” she said eagerly.

“Well, I’m glad for you. I need to get off here, since I’m in the area, I need to make some other calls,” he told her. “You pull the number off this panel? It’s a new one.”

She nodded. “But I know better than to call it,” she winked.

“Good. I’ll call you about this time tomorrow my time,” he stressed. “Twenty two standard hours,” he said after he converted the time.

“Got it. I’ll make sure I’m free about that time.”

“Kumi... thank you. I can’t tell you how much a lifesaver you are,” he said sincerely.

“Hey, I’m getting paid, babe,” she winked. “And I’m happy to help. I like you, and I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

“Me too.”

“Ok, twenty two hours. It’s a date.”

“Not much of one, but one I intend to keep,” he smiled.

“Don’t start digging the hole already. By the way, you’re drop dead sexy,” she said with a wink and a wicked smile, and started reaching for the disconnect button. “Fure! Get in here! I need-” and then she ended the call.

Calling Eleri was such a good idea, even if she couldn’t resist ogling him a little bit.

That was the good one, now it was time for the bad one. He punched up Jyslin’s number, and waited both anxiously and nervously. It had been nearly a week since he talked to her, just that last day, so he wasn’t sure if she was still angry or not. He waited... and waited... and waited some more. Almost a minute went by, and no Jyslin, and what was odd, no answering machine. He was about to end it and call Maya before she finally picked up the line. It was audio only, only showing a still picture of her and her name. “Hello,” she called shortly.

“Jyslin?” he called.

The picture of her was quickly replaced with a live image. She was wearing a simple black tee shirt, sitting at her vidlink console. “It’s about time,” she told him. “Are you alright? Are things well?”

“I’m alright,” he said carefully. “My vacation’s gone rather well so far. I had a few run-ins with some unfriendly residents, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Are things going alright over there?”

She nodded. “Fairly well. Oh, two things. First, your physical is on Friday,” she said strongly. “I highly suggest you get everything ready before then. You don’t want to miss it. Second, you need to call in to traffic control. They lost contact with your skimmer, and they don’t know where you are. They thought you crashed until they brought in a space-based sensor array and searched the area, and saw nothing wrong.”

He could have kissed her. That meant that they weren’t actively looking for him yet. That gave him two days of relative freedom. She also managed to tell him that he had in fact managed to get his skimmer down and hidden from sensors without them knowing where he was. That bridge was doing its job, hiding his skimmer from detection. “I understand,” he said with a slow nod.

“Tim’s really missed you.” She pursed her lips. “We need to talk about him, Jason.”

“What about?”

She glanced around, then looked at him with a grim expression. “I’m starting to think that he has the same problem you do,” she said intensely.

Jason was taken aback. Tim? Tim might have talent? “Why do you think that?” he asked.

“He’s showing some of the same symptoms you did,” she answered evenly. “Now that I saw you come down with this condition, I’m starting to pay more attention to some other people. Tim certainly seems to be showing some symptoms, but hasn’t come down with a full-blown case of it. I’m not entirely sure he will yet, but I’m starting to think that he might. The symptoms haven’t abated yet.”

Jason swore. “How long?”

“Days. Weeks. Months. It’s impossible to tell. If he does have it at all, it might never show up. If it does, there’s no telling how bad of a case it’s going to be.”

“Is he going to be alright?”

“As long as he doesn’t have too much outside interference, he should be just fine. It’s nothing that someone like me can’t fix, and it’s certainly not something that he’d want bandied about. That kind of embarassment, I think he’d prefer to avoid. If it turns out that he does have too much outside interference, though, he might have to take a little vacation too, to settle his nerves.”

Jason looked down. If it was true, if Tim was expressing talent, then he fully understood what she meant. If that really was the case, then she and Symone would train him, the same way Jyslin trained Jason. She’d be a hell of a lot better at it than Jason ever would be. But, if the situation with the Faey got too sticky, she’d have to pack him up and send him off to Jason, to live away from the Faey and away from danger. It would be much more dangerous to train Tim than it had been to train him, because nobody would even conceive that a human could have talent when Jyslin trained him. But since that girl expressed and they knew that humans weren’t completely devoid of telepaths, it would make training Tim a bit more dangerous. Jyslin would probably have to really clamp down on him if it really happened, or have Symone stay with him nearly at all times to prevent an accident like the one that got that other girl discovered.

“I understand. Does Symone know?”

She nodded. “We decided not to say anything to Tim. We want to see how this plays out. We don’t want to worry him. If it turns out to be nothing, then he’ll never have had to worry about anything at all.”

“That’s a good idea. Tim’s a bit high strung.”

“I noticed,” she said with a slight smile. “I also found out that Symone knows you suffer from this condition. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it was between me and her,” he answered simply. “She wanted to let me know it didn’t bother her,” he said carefully.

“I’m a bit cross that you didn’t tell me, but I guess it’s alright,” she said with a slight snort. “I’ve been wondering, Jason, and thinking a little bit. I think there’s a common denominator here.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, first you get this condition. Then someone else we know does,” she said pointedly without referring to that girl who expressed during finals. “Now it looks like Tim might. The common thread here is us. For you, me. For Tim, Symone. And I found out that other one also had a friend, an Army regular. Seems like some humans might be allergic to Faey or something. It’s the only reason I can think of.”

Jason scratched his cheek, pondering her unspoken words. She might be right, maybe exposure to the Faey was causing telepathic ability in humans. First Jason, who gets probed every day for years, then this girl, who, if Jyslin was right, had a Faey lover. And now Tim, who had extensive, deep telepathic contact with a Faey. That had to be a connection. Maybe... maybe the Faey themselves were causing this, causing humans to express, by exposing them to their telepathic power. He wasn’t sure, but from what he had in front of him, he could see a clear connection to link the fact that he had talent, and this girl had talent, and Tim might have talent, and all of them had a history of extensive exposure to Faey telepathy. Jason in small periods of exposure over the years, Tim and that girl though intense exposure over a short amount of time... at least he was speculating in that regard about that other girl.

Maybe not every human was going to express, because they certainly would have by now. Some humans served in the Faey Imperium as liaisons or governmental officials, and they’d been exposed to the Faey and their telepathy on a daily basis for years. Perhaps it was like what he remembered Jyslin and Symone saying about other races and telepathic power. Maybe the humans too had some telepathic ability, but only a very small portion of the population. So far, most of that portion of the population hadn’t been exposed to the Faey, exposed to their power, because only a very tiny fraction of the human population of Earth had any extensive, continual contact with the Faey. Most people saw a Faey only once a week or so, maybe got probed once a month. Jason got probed daily, for years. And Tim, though he’d only known Symone for a couple of months, they had shared an intensely deep telepathic communion. She joined their minds when they made love, and he was certain she sent to him quite a bit, and kept a link with him so she could hear his thoughts in return.

It could be that telepathic contact was triggering it in humans, could be making humans become telepathic. Almost like it was showing them the way.

Jason found that it did make a certain kind of sense. If only some humans had the potential to be telepathic, it explained why it was taking so long for it to show up, since only now was there more and more extensive contact between the Faey and humans. Or who knew, maybe every human had the potential, but some were more sensitive than others, more susceptible to whatever it was the Faey were doing to them to make it come out. People like Jason and Tim and that other girl, maybe they’d been not far from expressing true telepathic ability even if the Faey weren’t here, and the Faey’s presence just nudged them in the right direction.

“Jyslin... that is one hell of a point,” he agreed with slow words. “You might be right. You very well might be right. It might be rare because perhaps not every human is susceptible to this condition, that only a few humans with the potential to come down with it don’t come into enough contact to develop the condition. Or maybe we all do, but some of us have much lower resistance to it than others, so we started suffering from it first.”

“Hmm, that’s a good point,” she said after thinking a moment. “So, you’re okay with me watching Tim?”

He nodded. “You’re the best one to deal with it if it turns out he has it,” he assured her. “Just like you said, you can fix it if it happens, like you did with me. He wouldn’t like having to take a vacation. You couldn’t drag him away from Symone.”

“That’s Trelle’s own truth,” Jyslin grunted. “Sometimes I think they’ll have to be surgically removed from each other.”

Jason chuckled. “Listen, it’s getting dark here, and I have to hike back to my camp. I’ll do what you asked me to do when I get back. I’ll see you on Friday, okay?”

“Friday it is,” she said with a slow nod. “I’ll meet you at the regular place.”

“I’ll be there. I’m sorry to cut it short.”

“Hey, hon, that’s not a problem. I know you’re busy relaxing out there,” she said with a sly smile. “See you on Friday.”

“Be good.”

“Be careful,” she returned, and then she cut the connection.

Jason sighed, standing up, then he shut down the panel and started back towards the airbike. Tim, having talent. That idea scared him, not because he didn’t think Tim could handle it, but for what it meant. He had the sneaking suspicion that Jyslin was right on the money with her reasoning. He’d bet that extensive telepathic contact between humans and Faey was inciting telepathic ability in humans, or at least some humans. The link between Jason and Jyslin, and Tim and Symone, and now that other girl and her Faey lover, it was a very strong piece of circumstantial evidence supporting Jyslin’s theory.

Oh, God... if that was true, then there were going to be more. And more. And even more. The Faey were going to have dozens of human telepaths on their hands, maybe hundreds, and that was going to force them to respond. If it was indeed the Faey causing this telepathic expression, and they discovered the link that was causing humans to develop talent, then they were in a serious quandary. They really relied on the food from Earth to feed the Imperium, for they didn’t have very many planets that had the right climate for food production. They couldn’t leave Earth, they needed the food, but if they were causing humans to express telepathy, then their remaining here was creating a group of natives that had the power to oppose them. But what would they do?

Well, odds were, they were going to do to them what they did to that girl. Get them off the planet, reprogram them for loyalty to the Imperium, then either send them back to work for the Imperium on Earth, maybe hunting down other human telepaths, or employ them as spies for the Imperium. They would start really looking for humans on the verge of expression, start monitoring medical records, using telepaths to start digging for memories or information that would hint that that human had some latent talent that was about to awaken. They would try to find them and pacify them before they expressed, before they became a threat. The expression of telepathic power was not an issue so long as they remained in control, and was able to nullify the potential threat it posed before it became a threat.

And they would do that for as long as they were able to keep finding them faster than they could express. But if they couldn’t... he had no idea.

One thing they would certainly do would be to outlaw “social interaction” between humans and Faey. That would slow down the number of new telepaths. But Jason wasn’t sure that it required a human and Faey to be lovers for one to express talent... after all, Jason really hadn’t. He would have expressed no matter what, Jyslin said so herself. That other girl may also have expressed no matter what, it just would have taken longer for it to happen. And if Tim really did have talent, the same might apply to him as well. In that scenario, it severely limited the fundamental way the Faey kept control of the human population, by using telepathy to prevent any kind of resistance from forming before it had a chance to start. If the Faey were forced to restrict how they used telepathy against the native population, given the fact that humans would rebel the instant they thought they could get away with it, it would really stick the Faey in a bind. They used telepathy to quell resistance, but using telepathy was potentially creating human telepaths capable of defeating that primary weapon. It was the proverbial catch-22. In that situation, their reaction might be rash, swift, and very ugly for the humans under Faey domination.

And he really didn’t want to think about it.

The ride back to his house was uneventful, if not a little nervewracking. He had to rely on the airbike’s rather rudiumentary collision avoidance system as radar, since it was after dark and he wasn’t about to turn on the bike’s lights. He navigated by compass and maps, and they faithfully got him back home without him missing the mark by more than a mile west of his destination. He swept the area with his power and found no one around, so he shut down the hypersonic emitter and landed under the bridge. He stowed the airbike and locked up the skimmer, then made his way home, mentally adding a few items to the shopping list for Eleri-Kumi. For Kumi. An all-weather riding suit would be nice, and a spare pair of night-vision goggles, maybe one that was in the visor shape. He was sorely tempted to ask to see if she could find a replicator, but that was infeasible. They were huge, and they drew so much power that they’d be a beacon on a sensor array, shining out here in the unpowered lawless zone. There were some components and assemblies that he should see if she could get, general components to act as spare parts and a pool of available components if he had the need to build anything else. Yes, that was only smart. He’d have to make a list.

Now there was something he should ask for. Maya said that if he wanted to power up his skimmer, it had to be covered by a very heavy metal, one of the ones that didn’t appear on the human table of elements, like carbidium. Well, he had that PPG-powered generator down in the basement, and a PPG was powering his hypersonic emitter. He needed to ask for a few cubic shakra of carbidium sheet metal, so he could fashion some covers for his power systems.

Tim. He hoped, he really hoped, that Tim really didn’t have talent. But, something told him that that wasn’t the case. Jyslin was usually very sharp about things like that, and Jyslin was more or less convinced that he did. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy for Tim. Tim really was high-strung, even though it didn’t show that much. It was going to be tremendous pressure on him to learn how to control his power in an actively hostile environment. Jason sighed, and reminded himself that he was in very good hands. Jyslin and Symone would take very good care of him, and do everything they could to teach him how to control that power without giving himself away. Jyslin was good. She could have been in the Secret Police, she was that strong, and she was very skilled in her talent. After all, she had years more experience than other people her age in it, since she expressed so early. But she had managed to avoid that, going instead to the Marines. Jyslin would protect Tim, of that he was absolutely certain. She did like him, and it was doing Jason a favor. And Jason and Jyslin were willing to put their necks on the lines for each other.

He sat down in his new favorite chair down in the basement and turned on the television. All he could get out here was satellite broadcasts, and that meant he had a wide variety of choices between “native” programming and Faey programming. The Faey had left the entertainment sector intact when they took over the planet, giving the natives something to occupy their minds when not working. They had even gone in and upgraded all the networks and local television stations with Faey equipment, then trained the workers in how to operate it. He had some 632 channels to choose from, local stations that broadcast globally from all over the world, global networks like CNN or HBO, Faey networks that were considered local, and Faey networks beamed in from the Imperium. He surfed for a few minutes, stopping for a moment when he found a French channel doing news. Jason could speak French, thanks to his mother. He listened for a moment, then moved on when he found the story to be rather boring. He finally settled on an old movie called Groundhog Day, which was showing on one of the movie channels, about a vain, egotistical man cursed to relive the same day over and over. He’d always loved this movie, because it was a unique concept, wasn’t the same old assembly-line kind of movie. He’d always wondered what he would do if he was in a similar situation, living the same day over and over.

He sighed. Well, now he guessed he was going to find out. Living out here was kind of living the same day over and over, because there was only one thing he had to do. Live to see the next day. Over and over again.

He hoped Tim would be alright.

He hoped that Kumi wouldn’t get in trouble, and he really was grateful that she was willing to help.

He sighed and leaned the recliner back, watching the movie through half-open eyes, then, the day catching up with him, he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 7