|
Kinetic Energy
"Another drink, John?" Carol held out a flask of fruit juice, shaking it invitingly. John watched the viscous fluid it contained wash from side to side and shook his head with a look of distaste. The juice's saccharine sweetness had been refreshing at first, but it had rapidly begun to pall, much like the planet on which it originated. He had come to Adonisia looking for information and for advice. He had wanted an insight into how the telepathic race here had survived its turbulent childhood. He had hoped to find a way for his own to do the same. Instead he'd found a people striving to maintain their placid way of life in the face of outside change. At first John had seen only the graceful elegance of the slender Adonisians. Their astonishing calm and telepathic harmony had soothed him, buffering him from the turmoils of his life, as it always had on his earlier visits. Carol's family had welcomed him into their home and he had revelled in their hospitality, taking comfort from the company of his oldest friend. It had taken him nearly a week to begin to see the cracks in the near perfect facade. The plight of his people on distant Earth was sending out ripples of disquiet that spread ever wider. Carol and Narcissa had taken him to see the refugee centres, and he had felt the distress in the minds of his old friends. Narcissa had used all his considerable influence to improve conditions, but even so, the centres were isolated and crowded. Far as they were from the sprawling cities of Adonisia, their presence had been felt. The Adonisians had been shaken from their complacent and settled life, forced, by the Tomorrow People's struggle for survival, to question their own good fortune. And forced too to question the values of a culture that could remain indifferent, or even openly hostile, in the face of such suffering. The undercurrent of bitter self-examination had left a bad taste in John's mouth and he swallowed hard, as if to clear it, before answering Carol's question with a shake of his head. "I've had enough for now," he told her. He sighed, looking around him sadly. "Of everything." ***** Carol watched John's expression as he leaned back in his chair, lost in introspection. Compassion and concern flooded her, but a lifetime of experience kept her telepathic shields tight and her thoughts private. John didn't need to know how much he worried her, or how tired she felt he looked. It had been clear since his arrival that he needed space and time to be himself, not the burden of maintaining the self-confident appearance that he so often tried to project. She and Narcissa had been astonished when Adonisia's space-traffic control informed them of an incoming vessel headed towards their family's estate. They had been more surprised still when John, looking thin and pale, had stepped out of the Kalinar that landed on their grounds. Carol had flung herself upon him, greeting him and scolding him in equal measure for his long silence, and even Narcissa had clasped John's arm warmly, the tactile welcome unusual for his inherently telepathic race. With tears in her eyes, Carol had asked the questions in a rush. Where had John been? Why hadn't they heard from him before this? Why had he left so suddenly? John had just looked back at the Kalinar as it lifted off behind him, fingering the communicator that would evidently allow him to recall it. Later, he had told her. He would answer her questions later, but not here, not yet. He just wanted to speak to her and to do so in private. The others couldn't know. He had too many questions himself to answer theirs just now. Since then there had been only silence, and Carol had sensed her guest's growing frustration. Whatever he had come to Adonisia in search of, he clearly hadn't found it. With sudden decisiveness, Carol placed the flask she held on the table with an audible clatter. She caught John's eyes with her own as he looked up, reacting to the sound, and was startled by the anguish she saw there. "All right, John," she told him in the same firm tones she had used to berate him long before, when they were teenagers together in the very first Lab. "I've been patient, but you can't keep things bottled up like this. That's not what being a Tomorrow Person is about. We're here - I'm here - to share whatever's troubling you, and to help if I can." Her voice softened and filled with compassion. "What happened, John? What made you leave the Lab?" "What happened?" John repeated the question slowly as if considering it from all angles. He shook his head, breaking eye contact with Carol, and sighed. "Nothing really. I suppose I had a bit of common sense talked into me, but it was nothing I hadn't had in mind before that. I heard about the Inquiry in advance, Carol, but you know that; you and Narcissa were among the ones who warned me, after all. I was gearing up for the battle ahead when I suddenly realised I didn't know why. I wasn't even sure which side I should be fighting on any more." Carol shook her head and her blue eyes were wide with horror. "But, John," she cried, the volume and pitch of her voice rising with her dismay, "you can't mean that. You can't believe that the Federation are right about this?" "About isolating Earth, irrevocably? No." John shook his head, and it was the old decisive John she knew. "Never that. But the rest of it? I've started to wonder." Carol touched his arm compassionately. "Dear John," she sighed. "I never thought I'd hear you say that. You've always been the leader, the one who knew where we were going. I don't think anyone on Luna knew what to do when you left." John nodded, but there was a pensive expression on his face that confused Carol at first. Slowly, realisation dawned. "That's why you did it, isn't it? To make them think for themselves." "Think and act." John shrugged. "I trust the people I left behind, Carol - Abby and all the others. I trust them more than I trust myself these days. I wanted to get away - to think about what would be best, not just for our people but for the Saps, the Federation, everyone. I had questions that needed answers. There were things I needed to see and people I needed to speak to." Carol sat back in her chair, her blonde hair falling back away from her face. She frowned, struggling to understand. "And was I one of those people?" "You, Narcissa, Adonisia itself." He nodded, sitting back himself and lacing his fingers together, resting his hands in his lap. "A friend told me that I had to see all of this and he was right. I needed to know first-hand what the refugee crisis has done to this planet." Carol looked out over the rolling hills of her family's estate. The vibrant blue of the sky was reflected in her suddenly tear-filled eyes. "Things used to be better on this world, John. People here just don't know how to cope with the refugees. The Adonisians don't know what we are, John; whether we're allies or invaders, telepaths fit to be Federation members, or just children to be sent home with an invitation to come back when we've grown up a little." She wrapped her arms tightly, protectively, around herself. "But if the Federation get their way, even that won't be an option." She turned back to meet John's eyes. "No one here is happy with the Federation, John. They can't agree with the Inquiry and what's being done in their name." "You truly believe that?" John asked intently. "That Adonisia isn't one with the One Mind?" Carol nodded but her expression remained sad. "But what can we do? The Federation speaks for a million telepathic worlds, not just one or two. It's too big for us to fight. Perhaps this is one time when we're just going to have to give in and accept that nothing we can do will change anything. That maybe we don't know best." There was a long moment of silence as Carol waited for her old friend's response. She felt his instinctive anger at her resignation, but something else too - a growing determination that was almost frightening. She watched, confused, as John stood suddenly. "Is Narcissa in his office?" He didn't wait for a response, but came around the table to take hold of her hands. She felt his hands trembling with suppressed energy, but his mental defences were rock tight. Whatever conclusions he'd reached, he wasn't ready to share them, not yet. "Carol, thank you." "John?" "I need to speak to Narcissa, but then I've got to go. I have
a decision to make, things to set in motion, and there are others I
want to see, before it's too late and the time for decisions is past.
Even for me, time is slipping away."
Captain Frazier McFadden, a Fallon police spokesman, said that there had been 32 arrests. He added that three detainees had been taken to hospital, one with an eye injury and two with severe burns. Many others hurt in the fracas had been untraceable by the local medical services, and were presumably removed from the scene to be treated elsewhere. The violence was triggered by events two days ago when local residents denied a family, whose children had previously been identified as having unusual abilities, access to an exhibition being held in the Churchill County Museum. A group of the family's supporters then gathered to force their way into the museum, eventually commandeering the area and sitting in protest, chanting slogans and openly displaying their unusual abilities. In the early hours of the morning this group dispersed, but violence erupted the following day when local residents took the law into their own hands and began systematically attacking the homes of anyone involved in the previous day's protests. Capt. McFadden, speaking about the incident, said: "It started at the same time and the same place two days running. There were between 100 and 200 hundred activists each day. They began by shouting racist comments to other local families upon whom suspicion had fallen. Yesterday's violence is believed to have started after residents threw bottles at a group of passing children from the local school. As the frightened children ran off, the rioters tried to break windows of homes and businesses known to belong to suspect families. The police then moved in, but soon found themselves becoming a target for the residents' anger. "We had to use horses and dogs to bring the situation under control," Capt. McFadden added, "and we had to order the closure of schools and businesses in the area, then evacuate the people from them. We had the situation under control by 7 pm." "I'm innocent," one of the accused said, as he was led into the local police station. "All I was doing was standing up for the rights of my own children to live in a untainted society. None of us want these freaks in our town, with their perverted talents. We're just fighting for the rights of normal citizens." The flare-up of violence came at the culmination of several months of growing unrest in the region. Similar scenes have been witnessed in towns across mid-western America in recent weeks. A spokesman from the county Sheriff's office advised all people to be on their guard for the so-called 'new species of man', warning that if they were allowed to propagate in every town and city in the region, violence like that seen in Fallon could not be avoided. He warned that he and his officers would not be held accountable for the safety of any 'Tomorrow Person' who displayed their abilities in public, and advised them to vacate the area immediately. ***** Somewhere on the distant edge of the solar system:
"Hmmm, very good, Commander," replied the Captain, preening the delicate crimson scales on either side of his ovoid head. "We are three cycles ahead of sssssschedule." The Captain looked up from his console. "Display the target area with a visual reference for each of the buoys." The overhead viewscreen filled with an image of swirling clouds of interplanetary debris. In its centre the distant sun could be seen, and around this star each of the nine planets moved in their silent and ceaseless orbits. Littered with trillions of icy objects, ancient relics of the primordial solar nebula from which the solar system was formed, this area of space was well beyond the orbit of Pluto; out of sight of both the astronomers of Earth and the locals' Watchdog satellites, unless they knew where to look, of course. A diagrammatic representation of the sensor net appeared, superimposed upon the image, and the Captain gave a satisfied nod. "This debris is very convenient way of hiding our fleet," he commented. "Indeed, Captain. I believe the humans call it the Oort cloud." "And the buoys' positions are totally undetectable from the Earth?" "Yes, Captain. Each buoy has attached itself to one of the larger comets of this region. They form a complete ring around the outermost section of the solar system. I musssst say that our technicians have carried out a commendable job." A flashing light appeared on his console and the Commander removed his gaze from the viewscreen. Flicking a switch, he began to nod in response to the incoming telepathic message. Coughing to regain the Captain's attention, he looked up expectantly. "Captain, the other ships report that they have reached their designated coordinates and await further orders." He paused, anticipation at the next phase of their mission showing in his posture. "What shall I tell them, Sir?" Rising slowly from his seat, the Captain waved his long tentacled fingers in the direction of the viewscreen, and its display disappeared in response to his telekinetic command. "Tell them that they must continue to wait." "Wait, Sir?" the Commander asked, confusion returning to his countenance. "Wait for what?" Preening himself once again, the Captain hauled his heavy bulk towards the exit, his long black cape moving in rhythm with his awkward gait. Reaching the doorway, the Captain paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Tell them that now we wait for the Inquiry's verdict!" Moving out into the dimly lit corridor, the ship's captain left the Commander alone on the bridge to deliver the message. ***** Jiddah, Saudi Arabia: Pain was all he knew: the excruciating pain of a million souls inside his mind… Fear was all he sensed: the terror born from drowning in a sea of other people's feelings… Oblivion was all he craved: the dreamless sleep that would drive out the devils from his heart and carry him to the silent place where swirling patterns of colour danced like an eternal dervish, dispelling the pain of reality. ***** Aisha stared down from the moucharabiah into the street below. From her vantage point behind the enclosed wooden panels no one could see the once-proud mother of five sons as she struggled to comprehend the tragedy unfolding within the high walls of her home. The narrow street was almost deserted now, the vehicles parked up at the kerb-side, disgorging their passengers into the local halls and mosques in time for evening prayers. Allowing her gaze to wander over the opposing buildings, ornately decorated with their turquoise-painted carvings and deeply shadowed balconies, Aisha wondered whether her neighbours had ever experienced as traumatic a decision as the one she now faced. Lowering her gaze to the rug where her youngest son, Farooq, now lay writhing in agony, forcibly restrained by his elder brother and slipping further into unconsciousness with every passing moment, she closed her eyes and prayed. They will come, she thought to herself - although she knew that, like the searing heat of the day, hope for such a miracle was almost spent. "They will come, In sh'allah - God willing," she murmured aloud, as much to herself as to her son crouched before her. "They will not leave Farooq to die… They will come." Ignoring the chanted prayers of her other children kneeling at the back of the parlour, Aisha looked into the dark eyes of her eldest son, Qasim, head of their household since her husband's death two years earlier. Shaking her head despondently, she watched as he pushed harder onto Farooq's flailing limbs in an attempt to quell the fit that had fallen upon him some hours before. "And what if they don't?" Qasim sounded desperate. "We cannot hide this from the mutawa for ever. Sooner or later the imam will discover the truth and inform the religious police, making your decision doubly painful." Aisha felt her temper flaring. "I will not send my son away to die," she protested, although she knew that her assertions were gradually being eroded by the mental storm that had blown into Farooq's mind with the morning light, devastating the peace of this day. "You saw what happened to those other families. The moment they announced what was happening was the moment they condemned their own kin. I will not have Farooq's blood on my hands." The memories of the public executions were too horrific for Aisha to contemplate just now, and far too close to home. She was one of the lucky ones; her own changes had occurred while she was away at a family wedding taking place in the neighbouring town. Helped through the worst of it by another woman guest, she had managed to hide her abilities on her return. That was over ten years ago now, and as the political situation worsened, she realised that to ever reveal what she had become would doom her entire family. Qasim looked up at his mother, a deep sadness behind his eyes. "He cannot stay here, Mother. You know the punishment for harbouring one of these…" his voice trailed off as he saw his mother's utter despair, although he hardly understood the true nature of her misery. The burden she felt living this lie was great - almost too great at times - and now that the same thing was happening to her youngest child, Aisha was torn between two loyalties. Helping Farooq herself - although in reality she hardly knew where to start with such a task - would ease his immediate suffering, but would expose the deception she had struggled to maintain for so long, putting her entire family in a difficult situation. To call out telepathically was also too great a risk. The stranger had warned her long ago that people were listening. People who could not be trusted... Aisha understood all too well Qasim's obligations to expose anything he found out about her, but her decision not to help Farooq was causing her equal heartache. Taking a deep breath, Aisha stared down at her eldest son, determined to follow the only logical path still open to her. "We will wait. That is my final decision. I have heard it said that these people know somehow, when one of their kind is in pain. We will wait for them to come to his aid. They will take him away and then we will be free from the threat of discovery and retribution by our neighbours." ***** Out of the cacophony of noise that filled his consciousness, two distinct voices struggled to be heard. They called his name, desperate to hold him within the moment, desperate to tie him to the painful reality that he so desired to leave behind. (Link your mind with mine…) (Imagine yourself at one with the cosmos…) (You are being reborn…) (Concentrate on my voice to guide you home…) But their minds could no longer command him. He was already too far along the path and did not intend to go back now. He would break the ties that bound him to this mortal life and float free of his pain. (No! Go away! Leave me alone,) he cried (You are the djinn come to tempt me. But you cannot break me. You cannot…) The voices seized the thought, turned it around and threw it back at him. (Break out!) (Listen to us, Farooq… you are breaking out. You must listen to our voice and follow it back. You must link your mind with ours and let us guide you through the storm. We will not abandon you, Farooq… we are here with you, even now. You are breaking out, becoming one of us… This is the threshold of a new life, the doorway to a new existence… You cannot turn away from your destiny.) And now he began to listen, the weight of their unrelenting words somehow drawing a veil of hope across the million other souls within his mind. The insistent voices washed over him, through him and finally, laying aside his pain, they became part of him. The younger of the voices, only now recognisable as female, was washing him clean with her joy. (Imagine that you are a rose blooming in the rays of early morning sunshine,) she 'pathed, (unfurling petal by petal as it feels the warmth of a new day dawning. You are that rose, Farooq. You must unfurl your mind and come back to us.) Then the other, older and more authoritative than the first, took up the chant. (At this moment in time your life is a fist clenched in anger against the painful truth of your existence. Do not throw it all away, Farooq. Acknowledge your talents as you receive our counsel. Open the fist in a gesture of acceptance and friendship.) (Who are you?) The question floated effortlessly across Farooq's thoughts. (We are the Tomorrow People, and you are one of us!) ***** Glancing down again, Aisha noticed Farooq quieten from his earlier seizure and enter a calm and peaceful sleep, and she also relaxed, comforted by the knowledge that she had made the right decision. Without a word, Aisha motioned for Qasim to stand and step away from his brother. The eldest of her sons looked across anxiously at the newly arrived strangers, and then complied with his mother's wishes. With slow and gentle movements, the man, who could have not been older than thirty years of age, stooped down and lifted Farooq into his arms. Aware of the maternal love flowing from mother to son, he smiled warmly and nodded towards Aisha. (Thank you.) In the next instant both Farooq and the strangers disappeared, leaving the stunned family to stare at empty space on the brightly coloured rug before them. Qasim came forward then, placing a comforting arm around his mother's shoulders, lifting the burden from her heavy heart as he had done so many times before. Slowly the family returned to their evening prayers. Two hours later, Aisha found herself alone in the small, whitewashed room. Staring down from the moucharabiah into the street below, she could not help but speculate on the identity of the two strangers that had come into her home to spirit away her youngest child, but at least she knew he was safe in their hands. Safe from the unthinkable possibilities that could have transpired if he'd remained. Safe to step over the threshold and begin again… Exploding like a galaxy to the wealth of possibilities that now lay before him… open like a hand accepting the friendship of loved ones unknown… reborn like a flower into a new life… ***** BBC Breakfast News, 31st December 2021 "5…4…3…2…1…" The stage manager fell silent as the red light illuminated on top of the closest camera. With a deep breath the pretty blonde presenter smiled up into the camera and began her working day. "Good morning, and welcome to the BBC Breakfast News. Coming up on today's show we have the latest headlines from our news desk, we also look ahead at the fashions and gadgets predicted to be the 'must have' items of 2022, but first, we go over to the sofa for an interview with our UN media correspondent, who will fill us in on the schedule for the upcoming General Assembly." She nodded across the studio towards the comfortable seating area, and the camera followed her gaze. With a beaming smile and a gentle wave of her hand, she passed the baton to her colleague. "So it's over to you, Sarah." "Thank you, Wendy." The well-polished presenter smiled. "Today we are joined by Dr. Robert Read, who is leaving for New York later this morning. Welcome, Dr. Read." The well-dressed gentleman beside her fidgeted in his seat, as if he found it uncomfortable, then smiled. "It's nice to be here, Sarah." "Tell me, Dr. Read - what items can we expect the General Assembly to discuss this year?" The middle-aged man adjusted his tie before replying. "Well, Sarah, before I answer your question I should point out that under usual circumstances the UN only meets for three months of the year, from mid-September onwards. That there is an emergency session planned for early 2022 indicates that there are some unresolved issues from the last session that are still to be discussed by member states." "I believe that annual sessions usually open with a general debate. Will this be the case in the upcoming meeting?" "Indeed it will, Sarah. And it is this which makes the forthcoming summit so different from previous meetings of the General Assembly." Shuffling the papers on her lap in the skilled way of a veteran journalist, Sarah feigned concern. "In what way different?" she enquired. "Well, Sarah, it's the nature of the topics under discussion. In all my years working for the UN, firstly as a representative on the Economic and Social Council, and later as a correspondent for the BBC, I have never known the agenda to be kept so hush-hush." "I see," she frowned. "But despite the apparent secrecy on the subject of the forthcoming meeting, are you aware of any speculation regarding the topics to be addressed this year?" Dr. Read grinned broadly. "Indeed I am, Sarah. Rumours have been flying about the New York headquarters for the past few weeks. As you are aware, the UN charter upholds human rights and proposes that states should work together to overcome social, economic, humanitarian and other cultural challenges." He looked at the presenter sideways. "Tell me, Sarah. What is the most dramatic challenge to human society that has happened in the past ten years?" She paused in response to the autocue's instructions, allowing the audience a few moments to make the expected mental leap of understanding. "As far I can see, it's the speculation over the emergence of the new species of human that's caused the most problems in recent years." "Precisely!" "So the next General Assembly is expected to discuss these people?" "Well, Sarah, we cannot say for certain what will be on the agenda, but I can assure you that whatever comes to light it will, no doubt, be fuelled by the growing reports of worldwide unrest regarding this hypothetical new species of man." Sarah nodded her understanding. "And will you keep us informed of events as they unfold in New York?" "Certainly, Sarah. The BBC is planning a series of reports from the General Assembly to give an insight into this unusual meeting. As I'm sure your viewers are aware, since the turn of the century there has been much media speculation about a 'Mass Breakout Event'. Now, it seems, for the first time in a decade the governments of the world are prepared to discuss the tide of violence and civil unrest sweeping across the planet. Whatever this upcoming meeting discusses, it is bound to stir up some highly controversial debate from all member states." Turning back towards the camera, Sarah smiled once again. "Thank you for joining us this morning, Dr. Read. I am aware that you have to leave for Heathrow immediately. We all look forward to your reports over the coming year, the first of which can be seen later this week." The camera panned back then, showing a wide angle of the studio, including the newsreader poised to begin the next segment of the show. "And now it's over to Ben at the news desk…" ***** The office door slid silently open to reveal Kershia, her usually calm persona replaced by hunched shoulders and pensive expression. Peering into their leader's gloomy office, her psi-awareness told her of Abby's troubled thoughts even before her eyes picked out the figure sitting slumped in the chair on the far side of the small room. As Abby looked up, Kershia waved the security report and gave a listless smile. "Can I come in?" she asked, crossing the threshold before Abby could reply. "I think we need to talk about this…" Settling into the seat behind the desk, Kershia swung around to face her friend. Exchanging troubled glances, neither spoke. What was there to say? They had both read the disturbing news, condensed so adeptly by Jimmy into bite-sized snapshots of the troubled world below. They both knew that he had spared them a more emotive description of events on their homeworld. And they both appreciated his candour as he relayed the stark reality of war with the Saps. The low-level telepathic link that existed between the two women was all they needed to understand each other's concerns. The mere presence of the other brought comfort to them that no words could ever bring. But they also knew that the material held within the pages of the security report could be neither dismissed nor ignored. Something had to be done and it was up to them, as the Tomorrow People's trusted leaders, to do it - whatever the consequences. Fiddling absent-mindedly with the corners of the report's crisp white pages, Kershia found her mind wandering back to the day they first met, and the irony of the situation they now faced made her frown. She had stepped onto the grey slopes of Mauna Loa that spring morning to get away from the interminable demands of her family and friends, believing that the solitude could wash away her anger at their constant intrusion into her life. Then later, after escaping the volcano's unexpected eruption, she'd assumed that the lessons learned had taught her both independence and self-reliance, giving her courage to strike out alone and forge a new path for herself. Kershia saw now that, in so many ways, the life she had previously dismissed was the life she had inadvertently chosen. The self-assured and challenging individual she had become had simply turned around and stepped back into a place where demands upon her were more exacting than any she had previously sought to avoid. Abby had also marched purposefully up the steep volcanic slopes in an attempt to get away from the life she was forced to live - in her case, the endless debates of a species waiting in the wings to seize power on the Earth. And, like Kershia, Abigail's life had now turned full circle to place her back exactly where she'd been all those years ago, disheartened and disillusioned by the endless talking-shop and mental verbiage of lab politics. In their heart of hearts each young woman was strong and understood the necessity for them to step into the Seniors' shoes. They also knew that, as the TPs' leaders, they must be prepared to face whatever situations presented themselves, to make difficult decisions - just as John and the others had been doing for decades - and then to live with the consequences of those decisions. But despite their appreciation for the situation, neither actively sought the burdens and responsibility that leadership brought. That they would absorb the difficult truths held within the pages of Jimmy's report was never in question. That they would make decisions leading to dangerous missions for the various security teams worldwide was not an issue either. What both women understood, but hardly needed to articulate, was that there was no personal satisfaction from this role, no joy left in their lives and, despite the support of the many friends who frequented the Luna command centre with them, they were utterly alone. It was many minutes before either of them spoke, and when Kershia did at last break the silence it was to the biotronic computer who constantly monitored every aspect of their lives that she made her request. "TIM, can you raise the light levels in here, please?" Abby stirred uncomfortably in her seat as the room brightened. "Do you have to, Kersh? I've got a terrible headache." "Oh, sorry." Kershia flashed Abigail a concerned glance. "I didn't realise. Would you like me to leave you alone? We can always discuss Jimmy's report tomorrow." She prepared to stand. Abby shrugged. "No, it's okay. I can hardly sit here in the dark all afternoon doing nothing, and Luna won't run itself." "But…" began Kershia, then fell silent as Abby shook her head despondently. "Whether I've got a headache today or tomorrow makes no difference, Kersh. You've read it, you must realise what it means. Luna is full, the Sap camps are full, the Trig has denied any further requests for relocation of refugees, and the mass breakout is still continuing at an alarming rate. I know that this last, at least, should make me happy, but the time has come to face the harsh reality of being a TP. There is absolutely nowhere left for our people to go any more. They must remain where they are, however hostile the locals, and carve out a place for themselves within society. It's time for TPs everywhere to stand up and be counted. And I mean it quite literally, Kersh!" Kershia shook her head. "I understand what you're saying, but how can we ask people to just put up with this treatment?" She flicked through the security report until she found a particular section, and then began to read. "Riots across Africa, civil unrest in Japan…" Kershia looked up anxiously. "Japan, Abby… They've had three thousand years of civilisation. It's the last place you'd expect people to go mad and attack their neighbours." Looking down she resumed her scanning of the report. "Authorities in Russia have segregated an entire district of Moscow and herded undesirables into it, barricading the surrounding streets. In Mexico families have been turned out of their jobs and homes and forced to live rough." She looked up into her friend's eyes once again. "And the president had the cheek to go on TV and advise outsiders to leave the country. He knows as well as we do that the TPs aren't outsiders. They could jaunt away, but where to? That's not going to help them in the long run. Huge numbers of the world's population can't become migratory overnight without it having devastating social and economic implications." Sighing heavily, Abigail sat back in her seat. "I understand all that, Kersh. You're preaching to the converted here. But I can also appreciate how difficult it must be for individual families faced with violence, prejudice and discrimination to just stay where they are and accept it." Kershia stood and began to pace the small office like a caged animal. "So that's it," she said at last, coming to an abrupt stop. "We can't advise them to jaunt away, but neither can we accept the treatment they'll get if they stay put. It's stalemate. Sap versus TP. This war is no longer one waged between us and the world's leadership, it's now been taken onto the streets of every town, village and city across the world." She paused. "So what do you propose we do about it?" "I can't see what we can do, Kersh. We knew that one day it would come to this. I suspect that even the Seniors knew that the transition would be a traumatic one. This fight is no longer down to us, it is down to every man, woman and child on the planet." Kershia sounded desperate as she made her reply. "But they're expecting us to make it better. There hasn't been a refugee who arrived on Luna within the past six months who didn't speak of rumours spreading through the Lab network, speculating that we had some secret plan up our sleeves. If we just sit up here, safe in our ivory tower, and do nothing we'll be letting them all down." "I never said that we wouldn't do anything. We can send out Jimmy's security teams to give people advice. We can use our trained operatives to jaunt into hot spots and defuse unrest before it gets out of hand, stunning everyone present if we have to! And we can use the Lab network to spread information on how to survive out there on the streets without getting hurt." "And you really think that's going to make a difference?" Abby shook her head. "I don't know. How can anyone know? But it's the only thing we can do just now. As I see it, there's no longer a need for us to keep our presence a secret. The Saps know we're here. What we have to do is help our people stand firm until the Saps realise that we're not going away." "Oh, Abby," sighed Kershia. "Isn't that just a pipe dream? Do you really believe the Saps will ever accept us?" Now it was Abby's turn to stand and pace the room while Kershia watched her apprehensively from the corner of her eye. Stopping suddenly, Abby snatched up her own copy of Jimmy's report from the desktop, where she had thrown it some minutes earlier. Turning to the last section, she scanned through the detailed summary of proceedings reported by Sophie's media team. Finding the section she wanted, Abby looked up with renewed hope in her eyes. "'An unscheduled emergency meeting of the United Nations General Assembly is to be held in New York in March of this year,'" she read aloud. "'There is speculation amongst the media, which has also filtered out into the general population, that the TPs presence may become a topic for debate. It is advisable for all media teams to keep a look out for information about this unprecedented move by the UN.'" As the information sank in Abigail and Kershia exchanged a wry smile with one another. On the face of it this news held little significance in the TPs greater struggle for survival, but to Abby and Kershia it sounded like a godsend. Here at last was a chink in the Saps' armour, an opening, however small, through which they could pour their hope. "Kershia," asked Abby mischievously, "do you think it's time you paid Sophie a visit in California?" "Yes, I certainly do. Sophie has been running that section admirably for the past year, I think it's high time we gave her some recognition for her hard work." Turning towards the exit, Kershia looked back over her shoulder. "Shall I tell Jimmy where I'm going?" she enquired. "No… no. I think it's best if we keep this between ourselves just for the present. You know what he's like. He's dismiss it as a crazy whim, and far too much of a risk for either one of us to get involved with." Kershia nodded her agreement. "To Jimmy intuition is something women use to cover their backs when they can't make up their mind." Abby was still laughing as she watched Kershia cross the busy command centre and disappear from view. Sitting at her desk once again, she thumbed through the pages of the security report, considering how to feed back her ideas to Jimmy. With her headache receding into the background of her mind, Abby returned to the business of running Luna. ***************************************************************** Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 Message 001 of Topic
Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 Message 003 of Topic Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 Message 004 of Topic Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 Message 005 of Topic Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 Message 006 of Topic Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 Message 007 of Topic Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 Message 008 of Topic There was a momentary flicker of light as the screen died and the room was thrown into darkness once more. Curled in her favourite armchair, Gretchen pulled her attention away from the computer and looked towards the fireplace. The remnants of the fire were still glowing gently in the hearth, the embers radiating comforting familiarity that spoke to her of safety, family and home. Outside this warm, sheltered environment bitter winds blew across the fjord, bringing the icy chill of winter to the small fishing village. Beyond the harbour the countryside had lost the veil of vibrant green that covered the hillsides in the summer months, replaced now by the seemingly endless grey of the long, long night. To Gretchen none of this mattered; she had much more important things on her mind than the severity of winter. However biting the cold, she realised that she would be long gone before even the first snows fell. Gone from this room where she had shared the fun and games of childhood, gone from the familiar scent of pine that filled the room as her father piled more logs onto the blazing fire, gone from everything and everyone she knew. Glancing down at her hastily packed bag, she sighed. The decision to leave had, in the end, been a fairly quick one. In fact, once the choice had been made, she wondered why she'd not thought of it days before. Family and friends were always telling Gretchen how mature she was, how decisive and certain of what she wanted in life. But so much had changed recently she hardly recognised her old self any more. Curled up in the huge armchair, cuddling Teddy tightly, she looked younger than her fourteen years. The old, baggy cloth bear had been with her as companion and friend for as long as she could remember and despite the reality of approaching adulthood, she still felt safe when she cradled him in her arms. She may have made the inevitable decision to leave her childhood home, but Gretchen was determined to take a little piece of that childhood with her. Like everyone of her generation, Gretchen had been warned of the transformation that puberty would bring to both her body and mind. But no one had prepared her for the other changes, those not visible on the outside, which set her apart from everyone else in the village. When it started she knew what was happening immediately. She'd seen the reports on various news programmes and documentaries detailing how young people the world over were undergoing some kind of evolutionary shift. She also knew the arguments put forward by politicians, respected scientists and religious leaders alike, warning of the dangers they faced from these teenagers with 'Special Powers'. Gretchen had watched such TV programmes in fascination for months, never realising that she would soon be facing the issues from a far more personal perspective. The TV debates usually boiled down to just three key questions: were these people a threat to normal human beings? Should they be kept away from the rest of the world? And should anyone who knew they were a TP come forward to give themselves up? This last question was the one that brought the greatest consternation to Gretchen's mind. Before now she probably would have agreed with the majority and condemned those with strange abilities to a torturous life behind bars. That was until the fateful day when she recovered from a fainting fit and came round to see the world in a different light. Her new awareness brought colour to the once drab background of her familiar life, and she soon understood what it meant to have real power, but be too afraid to use it! In the weeks since she'd recovered from the fit, Gretchen had tried to approach the people she trusted with her dilemma over what to do next. Turning first to her father, the mere mention of changes to her body had sent him scurrying from the room, mumbling that such a conversation required a woman's touch. Next she tried speaking with her stepmother, but all she'd received was a one-sided diatribe about how difficult it was to cope with a career and a home, let alone giving advice to someone else's wayward teenage daughter. So in the end Gretchen had turned to the only adult left who she believed would listen to her problems with an open mind. Father Hansen knew what it was like to be part of the minority, a Catholic in this Protestant nation. He had been a constant in her life since she was a little girl, gently guiding Gretchen and all his flock to tell right from wrong. She was sure he would understand the quandary she found herself in and be able to tell her what to do. Approaching him after mass one day, Gretchen found herself uncharacteristically tongue-tied as she struggled to put into words how she felt. Where she would normally have been open and forthright in her opinions, she now found herself guarded and shy. In the end Father Hansen had misinterpreted what she was trying to say and launched into one of his well-rehearsed speeches on the evils of drink, drugs and pre-marital relationships. All she could salvage from his long-winded narrative was that whatever path God had chosen for her was the right one for her to follow. "God knows all and sees all, Gretchen," he'd said with a beaming smile. "He hears any message sent to him with an open heart. And he always replies." Gretchen had thought about those words for many days afterwards. Eventually she reasoned that if God knew everything, he also knew what happened on the Internet. So Gretchen had posed her dilemma to every chat room, message board and discussion forum she could find. She proclaimed what she knew to be true: that she was a 'Tomorrow Person' and that she would wait for someone, anyone, to come and get her. Whether her fate was to be interned in one of the camps as a danger to the state, or spirited away to foreign climes by friends yet unknown, she was fully prepared for whatever messenger God sent to do his bidding. ***** Waking from a light sleep, she glanced at her watch and sighed. For three hours she'd sat in front of the fire's fading embers clutching Teddy in her arms and waiting for something to happen. Three long hours had passed and she was still waiting… Shifting her position in order to return the blood supply to her cramping leg muscles, Gretchen's mind was suddenly alert to a noise coming from the upper level of the house. Instinctively she stiffened as all her senses strained to pick up more details of the noise. Realising that her father had awakened and was climbing from his bed, she sighed heavily. The last thing she wanted was to be found out. She'd hoped to be long gone before morning, leaving her family to read her hastily scribbled note and unable to dissuade her from this necessary course of action. Straining her ears, Gretchen could make out her father's heavy footsteps as he fumbled about for his slippers and then headed from his bedroom into the hallway. With eyes raised towards the beamed ceiling, she followed his progress along the short corridor before he turned and approached the top step of the staircase. Thinking rapidly, she tried to find a plausible excuse for why she was sitting alone and fully dressed in the early hours of the morning. But despite her best efforts she kept coming back to the fact that there simply was no explanation, other than the truth. Gretchen felt every thud of her father's large feet as they slowly descended step by step towards the darkened ground floor of the house. And with each step he took, she came one step closer in her mind to confessing her secret. Finally, painfully, he reached the bottom of the staircase and looked around the darkened room. At first all he could make out were the long shadows cast by the eerie glow created by the fire's embers. Then as his eyes came into sharper focus he saw Gretchen rise from the armchair, fully clothed and with a bag at her feet. Silently the two stared at one another, as if breaking the silence would bring the weight of the world crashing down upon them. Slowly they came to an unspoken understanding of the situation and finally Gretchen's mood lightened as her father responded with a gentle nod and a kindly smile. "You're not thinking of running away, are you?" he asked at last, his tone conveying sympathy and understanding instead of the anger she had anticipated. Gretchen shrugged. "Would you care if I was?" Flicking on the light, her father came further into the room. "Of course we would, Gretchen. Don't you go thinking for a minute that your mother and I don't care a great deal about you." He sighed and she felt the wave of frustration pass across his thoughts, the sudden empathy catching her unawares. So this is what it feels like to be telepathic, she thought; how interesting. Putting her excitement at the discovery of this new faculty aside, she focussed her attention on her father's words once more. "I know you've been troubled by something lately," he continued. "I meant to find time before now to have a proper talk with you, but you know I've been busy with work." He took another step towards her. "Look, Gretchen, I'm sorry if I've not been there for you, but I'm here now. We all are. Running away from a problem isn't going to solve it. Why not come back to bed and we'll talk all about it in the morning. I'll take the day off and we can go out for a long walk, just the two of us, if that's what you want?" Gretchen gave a wan smile. She knew she was weakening and found it difficult to formulate her reply. "I'm sorry, Dad, but I can't stay. You see, I'm waiting for someone to come and get me. They're probably on their way right now." She glanced down at her watch once again. It was three forty-five am. Someone, anyone, must have got her message by now. "I'm sorry, Dad," she repeated. "As soon as they arrive I'll have to go with them. I really have no choice." Striding purposefully forwards, her father wrapped an arm around her shoulder and started to lead her back towards the stairs. "No one is coming into my house in the middle of the night to take away my little girl," he remarked, urging her to take the first step back towards her bedroom. "I won't let anyone, whoever they are, in here at this hour. It's a freezing night, and we're seventy miles from the nearest town. I very much doubt that anyone could find his or her way up here in the dark. If they do come, we'll just have to get up again, but for now, young lady, you and Teddy need to get some sleep." Indicating that the topic of conversation was closed until morning, Gretchen's father pushed her before him as they ascended the stairs. At first she resisted him, but then accepted the rationality of his words. With a sense of resignation she turned the corner on the upstairs landing and trudged wearily towards the bedrooms. Turning to watch as her father disappeared into his room, Gretchen stepped into her own bedroom and closed the door. Without switching on the light she looked about her at the familiar surroundings. Earlier this evening she'd said her goodbyes to all this; to the brightly painted walls and dizzy swirl of colour splashed across the ceiling, to the many books on the shelf and neatly stacked toys in the corner, and to the brightly flowered quilt thrown across her soft bed. The bed! Her thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. There was something lying on her bed. Reaching out with her new senses, she instinctively turned on the light with a burst of TK. There, in the middle of the floral eiderdown, was a folded black belt, its chequered buckle uppermost, reflecting the brightness of the room. Rushing forward she snatched up the jaunting belt, revealing a small note lying beneath it. Slowly she read the message. 'Stay where you are. Do nothing to draw attention to yourself. You will be contacted shortly.' For a moment Gretchen's mind was a whirl of intrigue and excitement, then, after the initial shock had died down she realised what this object actually meant. The Tomorrow People had indeed received her call, but instead of teleporting in to rescue her, they had sent this object like an emissary to convey a very important message. A message she understood as clearly as any telepathic signal. They knew about her and where she lived, but they were not coming to take her away from family and friends; instead they intended her to remain at home and to use her powers in safety. Gretchen clutched Teddy tightly to her chest and gave a little squeal of delight before undressing and climbing into bed. Placing the belt safely into her bedside cabinet, she was asleep before her head had even touched the pillow.
The chimes of an interstellar jaunting beam filled the control room in a shimmering cascade of sound. Technicians and administrators hesitated and looked up from their tasks, the ripple of noise sending a shiver down their spines. Kershia felt the weight of their gaze pressing against her and stood a fraction straighter. Years of experience as an undercover agent and months of practice of leadership took over, hiding her anxiety and exhaustion behind a confident façade that even extended to her body language. Tomorrow People around the room read the calm in the lines of their leader's back and relaxed, returning to their tedious but essential work. The rare arrivals from the Trig were never good news these days, but if Kershia wasn't worried then why should they be? Kershia heard the thoughts as if they had been spoken aloud and knew that only iron self-control and the practice of many years spent undercover stopped her regret from reaching her face. She hated the fact that she could lie so well without ever saying a word. She hated the fact that she could do so without even thinking about it. And she hated the fact that she was standing in front of the jaunting pad, waiting for yet another crowd of Federation technicians to arrive. She would stand here and greet them politely as they looked around them with disdain on their faces. She would have to accept their condescension, and nod and smile, playing the gracious host. She swallowed her pride with an effort. She hadn't needed Abby's warning to know that they couldn't afford to antagonise these people. With the air reprocessors working at 150% of their theoretical capacity and the environmental systems pushing their limits, Luna could at any moment easily slide over the fine line between smooth operations and total disaster at any moment. Much as it galled them to admit it, the Tomorrow People hadn't a hope of maintaining the intricate life-support systems that kept this warren of humanity alive. The teams of technicians that the Federation sent, sporadically and grudgingly, were the bare minimum Luna needed. And if sending them was the least the Federation could do, tolerating their visits patiently was the least Kershia and the others could manage. (Kershia?) Lost in thought, she had barely noticed as the shimmer on the jaunting pad solidified into four tall and slender forms. The familiar voice in her mind jerked her eyes back to the visitors, surprise and delight washing away her fatigue. Tall, pale-skinned figures, long robes swirling to their ankles, stepped down from the jaunting pad, leaving the packs and equipment they had brought with them on the raised platform. The four Adonisians peered around them, all the arrogance and disdain Kershia had anticipated obvious in each of their expressions. There was no indication that for one of them at least, the first sight of Luna's control room should come as no surprise. Kershia schooled her own face to a polite lack of recognition, trying not to focus on the one familiar face amongst the group, trying to remember that Nova was a stranger here. He nodded politely as the two of them were formally introduced; she smiled the same false smile as she greeted each of the visitors in turn. Kershia swallowed her curiosity, knowing that even a hint that Nova was known on Luna could be enough to bring punishment down on them all. She focussed on the matter at hand with an effort. The guests would be quartered up here in the control level, she explained, her mind only half on the task, until their inspection and repair tour was complete. Nova nodded with the rest, looking interested when his superior expressed an interest in visiting Luna's lower levels, as if they were as unfamiliar to him as everything else in this place. At last, Kershia waved for the four technicians to precede her from the room. She would take them to their quarters, she told them, giving them time to adjust to the atmosphere and gravity before showing them the rest of the complex. Nova moved towards the door with the others, no indication in his expression or surface thoughts that he had any concern beyond those of his compatriots. Nonetheless, Kershia was hardly surprised when Nova hung back, brushing against her as she came up behind the group. She had felt the anxiety in his mental voice when he called her name, now she felt it again as he used their close proximity to focus a tightly shielded thought between them. (We need to talk, Kershia. Somewhere private. Soon.) ******** The uppermost level of Luna was quiet, hushed, as if joining its young residents and their aged guardian in peaceful sleep. That peace embraced Kershia as she jaunted into the dimly lit upper level. The ringing sound of her arrival faded and she stood for long moments, listening to a quiet that couldn't be found anywhere else in Luna. Only the reassuring purr of the air compressors broke the silence, the sound so familiar after Kershia's five years on Luna that it didn't even register on her consciousness until she paused, listening for it. Nova found her still standing there when TIM jaunted him into her presence. Violet eyes sparkled darkly, reflecting what little light there was as he looked quickly from side to side. Tension drained visibly from his body as he saw her and, for the first time since his arrival, Kershia felt Nova's mental defences relax. The half-Adonisian, half-Tomorrow Person sighed as he sank into a chair, a smile of greeting on his face. "Quiet, at last," he sighed in his high, fluting voice. "Such a contrast even to the control level these days." He hesitated, looking around the empty common room. "The children are well? They still have all this to themselves?" Kershia nodded, "The top level, yes. Emina and her grandchildren still have rooms here too, of course. And so do I now. Occasionally one or other of the school groups uses one of the two main rooms if they need more space, and Abby and the others and I meet up here most nights to unwind for a bit before trying to sleep, but we've held off forcing the children to share their level with other refugees. Up here they're spared that - for the moment." She waved a hand vaguely around her before looking down at the visitor sitting in front of her. She paused and studied Nova's face. "I know you got on well with the children, but you didn't come all this way just to ask after them. You've done well to convince your colleagues that you're a stranger here, but it's a big risk, Nova. If the Federation found out about your last visit..." Kershia shook her head, her voice trailing off as Nova fixed her with a sombre look. "You have spies in Luna, Kershia," he said abruptly, not trying to soften the impact of the news. "Spies?" Kershia repeated the word as if she wasn't sure she had heard what he said, as if she didn't want to believe it. Nova watched as her face paled and her expression became focussed, determined. "Who are they?" she asked sharply. "And who are they spying for?" "The Federation, and I'm one of them." Nova's voice was very quiet. He sat very still, his long-fingered hands resting in his lap. His sombre expression did not change as Kershia's passed through confusion, disbelief and then anger. "But..." her protest trailed away. She shook her head and felt herself filling with restless energy, pacing from side to side now like a caged lion, only glancing back at Nova from time to time. "We've always trusted that the Federation have our best interests at heart - until this inquiry started, anyway. We've always assumed they'd trust us to keep them informed about what's happening here and down on Earth. We should have known better." She sighed, aware that Nova's anger and dismay was as strong as her own. Shouting at him now would do nothing to help. "The Federation have assigned my team to report back on the details of Luna's daily running, on the interaction between Luna and the Labs back on Earth, on the political situation, on unrest among Saps and TPs both. We're to recover a media monitor and recorder module left here by the last technician team, and to leave a new one. It's nothing new, Kershia - the Federation know almost everything there is to know about Luna. They're watching you. They know you have the cure for the Malthus virus - that was reported back at once. It was a miracle no one recognised me when I delivered it." He shook his head angrily, standing now so he could meet her eyes without craning his neck to look up at her. "We're to pretend we're just here to help. We're to carry out the bare minimum maintenance required to keep Luna alive and no more, but we're simple spies nonetheless." Kershia fumed quietly, struggling not to blame the messenger for his news. "This has been going on a long time?" Nova shrugged. "Mother and the others only found out recently." He smiled and this time his amusement was genuine. "You could say I'm here as a double agent, Kershia. We'll be here for a few weeks at least. And while I'm here officially, I promise to be suitably awed by whatever achievements you feel like sharing with me. And more than that, I'll be able to carry any news you want passed on back to the TPs on the Trig. Your 'Seniors' thought that if the Federation were sending spies then we might as well do the same!" Kershia took a step forward eagerly, strands of her dark brown hair falling around her face from the momentum of the sudden movement. She brushed it back behind her ear with an unconscious gesture, concentrating on the wide violet eyes in front of her. "You've spent time on the Trig? You have news from the Inquiry? Can you tell us more than we get in those formal reports? Did the Seniors send you with any news in particular?" Nova shrugged non-committally. "I can tell you a little more, perhaps." He hesitated, concern replacing the amusement. "But why are you so desperate for news, Kershia? From all we've heard you're doing as well as you could expect to here, even with all the older generation away." Kershia nodded, her expression becoming neutral as she tried to hide her anxiety. She turned away from him, giving voice to doubts that she wouldn't share with anyone else in the Luna complex. "We're doing fine here on our own, Nova. But if the Federation turns against us, will that count for anything? Tell me honestly, Nova, if the Inquiry makes the recommendations we're expecting it to, do you really think we stand a chance?" He sighed, honouring the honesty of her question with an honest answer of his own. "I don't know," he admitted, running a long-fingered hand through his dark hair and shaking his head in frustration, "but the Inquiry isn't lost just yet. If I can report back on a complex that's running smoothly ... if the monitor has somehow 'missed' the worst of what's happening on Earth ... we might still change a few minds. We might still give someone second thoughts. It might be enough. It's certainly worth a try." Kershia swallowed back her worries and forced a grin. "A monitor with selective hearing. I think that can probably be arranged." Nova nodded, checking the chronometer woven into the fabric of his sleeve for the time. "I ought to get back," he said reluctantly. "We can talk more tomorrow, perhaps, but if my roommate wakes up..." "Go, Nova," Kershia agreed immediately, "and thank you. I'll go to have a word with Jimmy and see what we can do." She smiled. "If we have such an attentive audience, it would be a shame not to leave them with a good impression."
Kindred Spirits - Resolutions
"Paul," she said irritably, "do you have to?" Sensing his hurt feelings, Elena quickly looked up from where she sat and smiled. "Sorry, you caught me off guard. Are they for me?" Paul nodded enthusiastically before settling himself down beside her. "Not roses, I'm afraid, but the best I can do stuck out here." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day, Elle." Elena could barely hide her sadness as she attempted to appear pleased with his gift. "Thanks, Paul. They are…" she looked down at the bizarre blooms in her hand "…different," she concluded with a half-smile. "They're okay, aren't they? I picked them myself - they look a bit wilted, but I didn't expect us to be in the session so long." Resting a comforting hand on his arm, Elena nodded slowly. "They're just fine, Paul. It was a lovely gesture of you to go to the effort of finding me flowers. I had my mind on other things, that's all. I hadn't realised how long we've actually been confined here on the Trig. We missed Christmas and New Year, and now it's February already and we're still no closer to going home." While they were speaking, Mike had stood with hands in pockets, his back to the room, deep in his own thoughts. At the mention of home he swung around, his face tight with anger. "The way things looked in there just now -" he pointed at the door that led back towards the inner sanctum of the Trig's council chambers and gave a snort of derision - "I doubt any of us will ever see home again." "You can't believe that!" The unexpected statement came from Carol as she stepped from hyperspace to join them in the waiting room. Her shrill tone was seasoned by age, but still carried the intense, almost fervent, assertion of one who cared deeply for all her kind. "I heard what Stephen said, what you all said. It would be a barbaric act to quarantine the Earth as suggested." "Yeah," interrupted Paul impatiently. "Just look at
all the evidence in our favour. How could they possibly ignore it?" Tricia nodded gravely in response to Andrew's comments then, with a sigh, stepped forward to speak. "I may have left the Earth a long time ago, but I still regard it as my homeworld," she said, dragging a hand through her thick hair in an unconscious gesture, indicative of her deep thought processes. Although her once-red tresses were now completely grey and her face lined with age, she still carried herself with an air of confidence created by many years service for the Galactic Police. Respectful of her authority, the others waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts. "It's unthinkable for us to be banished here indefinitely," she continued, at last. "We're not even the ones at fault." Tricia glanced across the room towards the veteran ambassador whose opinion, above all others, they held in the greatest esteem. "Elizabeth, you've been quiet since the meeting was adjourned. What did you make of Timus' closing remarks? Can you tell which way the Council is leaning?" Elizabeth also had weariness in her eyes, caused not just by her advancing years, but also by the severe strain of fighting against the Inquiry's interminable obstinacy over the Tomorrow People's situation. Preparing to give a reasoned reply to Tricia's questions, she opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately silenced when the door slid open and Timus entered with Stephen at his side. The atmosphere in the room could be cut with a knife as each of their minds absorbed the end of the two men's telepathic conversation. (Do you really think it humane to shut us up with our mortal enemy, to fight it out like a load of caged animals? However you try to justify it to yourself, Timus, you're condemning us forever to life in a tiny area of space from which we can never escape. What's the use of being able to jaunt if we can't go anywhere?) (My own feelings are neither here nor there in this matter, Stephen. I will ignore your hurtful accusations on this occasion, as I understand how upsetting the situation is. Perhaps it would have been better if the virus…) he glanced up as he realised that the entire group was listening in on the telepathic exchange. (I think that this is not the time or place for such a discussion. That scenario was compromised many weeks ago, as I am sure you are aware.) Carol's gasp was loud in the sudden stillness that greeted that announcement. She schooled her expression to neutrality with an effort, hiding her concern for her son's safety. Timus gave a cryptic smile as he glanced at the assembled group, sensing her anxiety but not acknowledging it, before continuing. (Stephen, everyone.) Timus opened his arms wide in the familiar gesture of a skilled diplomat. (I cannot tell you the One Mind's verdict or lay any influence of my own upon them. What I can assure you is that you personally are not on trial here. Your conduct over the last few years has been exemplary and the aid you have given to the Federation will not be forgotten. Therefore I beg you all to consider my offer of sanctuary. Whichever way the vote goes, you will always have a place here on the Trig. You are very welcome to stay indefinitely and make it your home.) Timus paused, allowing them to feel the sincerity in his thoughts before continuing. (The chamber will be in recess for some considerable time. I suggest that you also use this interval to consider your own options. I'm sorry, but I don't have any better suggestions to make at present.) With this he gave a polite nod to the group, turned away and jaunted. A collective sigh spread around the room as the residual music of Timus' teleportation faded into the background. No one knew quite how to respond to the Chair-being's words, and for a long time no one even tried. Eventually it was Paul who broke the silence. "I wonder what Timus was hinting at when he mentioned the virus?" he asked, of no one in particular. Stephen, who had been standing just inside the door all this time, now came over to the large semi-circular couch and took a seat beside Paul. "I'd have thought it was obvious. He knows we managed to get hold of the antidote. He knows the Malthus kids are cured." Mike let out a huge whistle of disbelief. "Yeah, and the rest," he commented sarcastically. "The Federation deliberately withheld the cure from us. You know why? Because they hoped the virus would spread into the population and then the Mass breakout would be over. If there were no more breakouts it would clear their consciences when they shut up our people with the Saps inside this distortion thing." "But we destroyed the ST4 and without that the virus is harmless," added Elena, although as soon as the words left her lips, she realised the stupidity of the comment and glanced towards Paul nervously. "But I guess it wouldn't take much for the Federation to rediscover it themselves and release it into the Earth's atmosphere. They probably see it as a humane way out of this mess." "I was as appalled as everyone else here when I learned that the Federation was withholding a cure," remarked Elizabeth, finding her voice at last. She looked around from face to face. She'd lived on the Trig for almost fifty years now, longer in fact than she had lived on the Earth. And in that time she'd learned to be patient with the slow and pedantic notions of the One Mind. However barbaric the idea might seem, the Federation would only have considered using the virus as a last resort and with the best future for all the people of Earth in mind. "I was equally upset when I learned that they were sending spies to Earth to monitor the situation," she continued. "But I cannot help feeling that perhaps they're right. If the virus was allowed to spread and all future breakouts were stopped it would remove the TP threat from the Saps and the war would technically be over. I may not agree with the Federation's methods, but I can't help myself wondering whether we did the right thing in smuggling the cure back to Earth." Stephen's jaw dropped open with astonishment as he took in her words. "You can't be serious, Elizabeth? You of all people worked hardest on finding a cure. It was wrong of the Federation to withhold it from us when they knew that the children of Earth would suffer if it ever spread. It was just as wrong for the Saps to develop it in the first place, but they did it out of self-preservation and I can forgive them for their ignorance. What I will never forgive is the Federation's dishonesty in saying they were on our side when all the while they were seeking a way of stopping our emergence." Elizabeth turned to look directly at Stephen. (How many of us are there now?) she 'pathed, keeping her shields low to enable the entire group to hear her thoughts. (About fifteen million, I guess. Why?) (Isn't it conceivable that the Saps could round up every known TP and wipe us all out with one medium-sized nuclear device? What would the new breakouts do then, with no TP infrastructure to support them?) Stephen sounded bitter as he made his reply. (They'd do what we all did in the early days; they'd fight to survive.) Wringing his hands together, he fixed Elizabeth with an angry stare. (We were lucky, Stephen. We had John with his inventions to support us financially, we had TIM and the Lab to offer us a safe base. We also had the Sophostrians as our guides and the Federation as our allies. There may be more TPs now, but with their existence out in the open they are in a far worse position than we ever were. The Federation knows that and they probably believe they're doing what is best not only for the Tomorrow People, but for the rest of the Galaxy as well.) (Elizabeth!) The telepathic shout came from Tyso who had remained apart from the others all this time, staring at the swirling colours that decorated the far wall of the chamber. Although all eyes were fixed upon him, he resisted the temptation to turn around, choosing instead to allow his emotions to be read from his thoughts rather than in his face. (How could you of all people be on their side? This time-space distortion idea is wrong and everyone knows it. Whatever fancy language they choose to call it, to me it will be nothing but a prison for the Tomorrow People. I'm a gypsy, I'm used to roaming freely. The idea that I'd be restricted within the solar system…) he shuddered. (It makes me feel claustrophobic just to think about it.) Suddenly he spun round and a wave of despair flashed across his thoughts. (That's why I'm taking Timus up on his offer. I couldn't bear to be trapped inside one small region, not when I've had the galaxy to roam for the past twenty years. I'm staying on the Trig until the distortion is in place and after that I'll take off and lose myself out there in space. Free to jaunt where I like, until I'm too old to jaunt any more.) Once again the room was thrust into silence, Tyso's sudden declaration driving them beyond the moral arguments and towards the more practical side of Timus' suggestion. Pushing himself off from the wall, Tyso walked over slowly and joined Elena, Paul and Stephen on the couch. "What about the rest of you?" he asked softly. "When the vote is taken, the implementation of this thing will be quick. If you're gonna go or stay, you'd better make your mind up now so we can request the long-distance transporter beam. It's no longer a matter of 'if'; it's more a matter of 'when'." While the others looked about them, lost for words, Elena fingered the thick, waxy petals of the exotic blooms in her hand. They were lovely in a bizarre sort of way, but they were also alien; too alien for her liking. Without needing to link directly, Paul instinctively understood Elena's feelings and took her hand in his. "We're going back," he announced decisively, and she sprang forward to hug him. "Elle and me don't belong here. It's not our home and never will be," he spluttered, despite the fervour of her embrace. "And for that same reason I'm staying." Carol's declaration was understandable, but nonetheless shocking when articulated so clearly. Sitting down beside Stephen, tears started to well up in her eyes and he put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "We understand, Carol. The Earth hasn't been your home for many years. You've got other priorities now. It was fantastic that you came from Adonisia to support us during the inquiry. We wouldn't expect you to leave Narcissa or your family indefinitely." Too choked to respond, Carol rested her head on Stephen's shoulder and sobbed gently. "Thank you, Stephen," she whispered after a while. "It's strange, but I've never realised how much I relied on both you and John until the thought occurred to me that I may never speak with you again." Stephen sighed noisily. "That's not strictly true. I can't speak for John, as none of us knows where he is right now, but I'd very much like it if I could return to Adonisia with you." "Stephen!" exclaimed Elizabeth, Mike and Andrew in unison. Stephen held up his hand, commanding both their silence and their understanding. "It might seem an odd decision for me to make, but it's the most logical and practical one. When the distortion is in place the Tomorrow People on Earth will have a battle on their hands. Keeping their heads above water will be difficult enough. They don't want an old man like me hanging around, making them second-guess every decision they make. This fight is for the young. I think John finally realised that in the days before he disappeared. He knew as well as any of us here that Abby, Kershia, Jimmy and Marc are very capable of leading the TPs into the next decade. They've been running things well enough without us for the past few months, and will continue to do so for the immediate future. If I go back they'll feel obliged to relinquish power to me and that's something I just don't want any more." He smiled to himself as a distant memory came to mind. It was immediately after Kershia had delivered the news of the Malthus virus. Abby and Marc had accompanied them back to the Lab and while Abby consulted with John, Stephen had discussed his retirement with the very talented and personable young man who shared leadership of the Canadian Labs with her. Stephen had been flattered when Marc denied his obvious advancing years, and at the time retirement had felt a long way off, but too much had happened to him since then, too many disappointments and too many tragedies. Pushing the memories aside, Stephen continued, "It's time for me to hang up my jaunting belt and settle down. Better late than never, my mother used to say." He shuffled round on the seat to face Carol directly. "I don't care much for Trig politics any more, and Adonisia has quite a few human settlers these days, so I won't look out of place. D'you think you can find me accommodation where I can live out my final years in peace and quiet?" Carol nodded sombrely. "Of course I can, Stephen. You're very welcome. You all are." Now Tricia also crossed the room and sat on the circular sofa. "I'm staying too," she said matter-of-factly. "Not for quite the same reasons as Stephen, but because I have already found a good place for myself here. Even if this war had never happened, I would have been happy to retire on the Trig. You are all dear friends to me, dearer than any family I had in my youth, but there are people of importance here too. People I've lived closely with for many years. I cannot go back now. I just can't." "You might not have family, but I do!" snapped Mike, walking over to the couch and staring down at the assembled group. "Mum's Alzheimer's isn't getting any better, and sis can't cope all alone. They both need me. I feel guilty enough about being here all this time, as it is." Releasing Carol, Stephen patted the seat beside him and Mike squeezed into the gap before continuing. "War or no war, I've got commitments back on Earth." Crossing his arms to indicate that his mind was made up, Mike looked up at Elizabeth and Andrew, the only two Tomorrow People still standing. Glancing sheepishly from side to side, Andrew sprang forward and perched himself on the very edge of the seat. "I'm with you, mate," he commented, reaching round and patting Mike on the back. "I've got commitments too, you know." There was a long, pensive silence while they each waited for Elizabeth to pronounce her decision. Slowly, deliberately, she walked over and took the remaining space on the couch. Silently she laid her hands upon the huge link table and it illuminated at her touch. Spreading her fingers wide she waited for the others to follow suit. One by one they joined the link, each as apprehensive as the next while they waited for Elizabeth to speak. When she finally opened her mind, her thoughts were both composed and reassuring. (You may look at me and see a Federation Ambassador, but beneath this elaborate garb and fancy title I'm still the same young schoolteacher who was rescued from hyperspace and brought back to a secret base by these two mad youths claiming to be advertising 'Man in the Moon' milk bars. The day I broke out my life turned upside down,) she chuckled, and their spirits lifted slightly. (And I wouldn't want to change a single moment of it. If John were here…) they shared a moment of poignant empathy with one another before moving on. (But he's not. This decision is ours and ours alone. The Federation has given me access to more wonders that I could have even conceived in my youth, but it has also kept me away from the people and places I love for too long. I've been gone from the Labs for long enough not to fall into the trap that Stephen fears, and although I have no family left alive who need me, I feel my homeworld calling far too frequently these days. So what I suppose I'm saying is that I'm going back. I'll face the uncertain future as a Tomorrow Person trapped amongst their enemies just the same as I've faced every other crisis that presented itself since I broke out, and I'll enjoy every minute of it.) (You do realise that the Inquiry's decision could be made any time now?) 'pathed Stephen, his thoughts conveying the realistic assumption that this link might be their last. (Today may be the last time we're all together like this.) Tricia nodded and the others followed suit. (But technically we're not all together. John isn't here.) They all hesitated, feeling John's absence like a vacuum in their world. It had been so long now since they had heard from him. Was he ever coming back? Was he even alive to return to them? Elena extended her empathy towards the others with her in the link. (I'm worried about him,) she 'pathed, able to articulate the feelings the others could not. (Whatever private quest he's on, it must be an important and dangerous one - so dangerous that he felt it necessary to go alone.) She sighed. (You've all known John for longer than Paul and me. Have you any idea where he is?) They shook their heads. (Wherever John is,) began Elizabeth calmly, (I'm glad he was spared seeing us split up like this. He was always so sure that we'd win, always so certain that as Tomorrow People we'd rise up to take our rightful place in the Galaxy. I'm pleased he's been spared the knowledge that all we fought for these years has come to nothing.) Her telepathic voice dropped to a mere whisper. (I'm very glad he's not here, and now that I've decided to go back to Earth, I realise I may never see him again. The thing I do know with certainty is that I'll never forget him.) Images spread through the link then, their minds abandoning mere words to convey the sentiments they all shared. Flashes of tall spires on the distant planet of Adonisia mingled in the link with faces of family and friends back on Earth. Moments shared in the Lab became entwined with the anger and frustration they felt when giving evidence at the Inquiry. And with this also came thoughts of their dearest friends. Both John's absence and TIM's were painfully felt, like gaping wounds in their collective mind. Removing all barriers and shielding, they shared their memories and personalities utterly until no aspects of themselves or their lives were left untouched. Finally there was just one thought that permeated every facet of the oneness. (Remember!)
Only the hum of fans and the clatter of keys broke the silence of the room. Dim lights overhead did little to illuminate; instead the faces of the people seated here glowed strange colours in the light of the computer monitors in front of them. Each was intent upon their task, focussing with all the concentration their special abilities allowed. From time to time the silence was broken with a burst of laughter or a sigh as one or another of the room's occupants stretched, rubbing their eyes and cracking their knuckles to relieve some of the tension. The others ignored them, typing in short bursts or sitting perfectly still with their fingers poised over the keyboard as they read the text appearing on the monitors. It was a shock when the room suddenly went dark. Transformers within the monitors clicked frantically as the power faded, but their protests were drowned in a chorus of gasps - almost screams - from their shocked and outraged operators. There was a moment of total stillness before the power returned, the computer fans purring back into life, CPUs beeping as they rebooted. Sophie laughed, kneading her eyes with the palms of her hands. "A power fluctuation, people," she said aloud. "That's all!" She looked around the room, studying the shadowed eyes and the pale faces of her staff. "Look at us! You'd think we couldn't live without these things. All right, this is an executive decision: take a break, all of you. Get out into the light. We have other teams working on this, other people all over the world. Cyberspace will survive without us for a few minutes." She felt the dissent, the eagerness of her people to continue their work. She also felt the nagging ache in her own fingers and didn't need the posters that lined this room to remind her of the dangers of RSI. "I mean it," she told her people firmly, and one by one they started to leave the room, grumbling good-naturedly, but familiar enough with their boss to recognise the steel under her quietly spoken words. Sophie blinked as she stepped out of the monitor room and into the main common room of the Californian Lab. Somewhere up above them, a new day was dawning warm and bright with the promise of an afternoon perfect for lazing on the beach. Briefly Sophie considered doing just that, but then she shook her head. There was too much work to do - always too much. If it was dawn here then the sun was setting over Europe. Teenagers would be connecting to the chatrooms, some of them just looking for a bit of excitement, others searching desperately for answers that their parents and teachers couldn't provide. Sophie and her people might not have all the answers, but they could guide. They could suggest new thoughts to children and adults indoctrinated by a decade of negative reporting. And they could influence that reporting too. They could hear the first rumours of news stories, glean the kernels of truth from the chaff that the Internet threw out everyday. They could plant rumours of their own, or release press statements from non-attributable sources, or make sure that the positive as well as the negative reached the world's press. And, perhaps just as importantly, Sophie could keep Abby and Jimmy and the others on Luna in touch. She could keep their feet on solid Earth, intellectually if not in truth. Sophie glanced at the room's large wall-clock, frowning at the thought. Half an hour before her European department heads reported in, an hour after that before she was due on Luna. Telekinetically, Sophie summoned a copy of the latest report she was preparing for Abby into her hands. She flicked through it, reading headlines, noting the important points. (And what happened to 'take a break'?) The telepathic voice was amused, slightly teasing, and it startled Sophie out of her half-daze of concentration. Smiling wryly, Sophie looked up, her eyes scanning the clusters of coffee-drinking Tomorrow People for her assistant. Zoë's dark red hair made her stand out of the crowd long before anyone noticed her pretty face. She flicked it back over her shoulders with an unconscious gesture, even as she eased between two small groups of the computer operators to Sophie's side. Sophie smiled, answering Zoë's question with one of her own. (Have you read the latest report I put together?) she asked, keeping her telepathy quiet and tightly focussed. Zoë nodded. (You've been edgy all day, Sophie. I've seen you working the grapevine online - you're chasing something, aren't you?) She hesitated. (Is it something to do with that visit we had from Kershia? What's got you so worried?) (The breakouts, the gossip mongers, the confused kids, the bigots - I can deal with all of those.) Sophie shook her head. (I understand them, in one way or another. But the news rumours we're picking up ... they're getting stronger and more serious with every report we make. And I'm not talking about the riots or the people driven out of their homes. It's not as overt as that. There's something about the way people are talking.) Zoë frowned, but Sophie sensed her agreement. (It's nothing very
obvious - I mean, I don't think anyone would even notice if they didn't
spend as long immersed in this stuff as we do. It's a news story here,
a chat room there and a documentary in another place - all over the
world.) Sophie strode across the room and rifled though one of the filing cabinets inset into the Lab's smooth white walls. She pulled out one computer printout after another, scattering them across the nearest of the room's white-topped link tables. Curious, Zoë moved to sit at the table, shuffling through the reports Sophie pushed towards her and skimming their major points. The older woman waited until Zoë looked up again before continuing. (Something's moving, something big and something international. When Kershia came to see me last month, I thought ... well, let's just say I thought she and Abby were reading too much into the UN situation. A special session could be about almost anything - the world doesn't revolve around us, even now. I'm not quite so sure any more.) (That could do it. If they know they're going to have to debate us in a month or two it would explain the sudden surge of interest,) Zoë concurred thoughtfully. (Is there actually anything else big happening this year? Any international summits, or political conventions?) Sophie explored the pile of paper on the table, eventually pulling a particular printout out with an air of triumph, scanning the list of international meetings it contained. She shrugged. (There's nothing else it could be. A Pan-Pacific summit in July, a couple of European ministers' meetings to discuss one thing or another. Nothing out of the ordinary - except that.) Her voice trailed off. The two women exchanged uneasy looks, their vague anxieties crystallising. Sophie frowned. (This isn't really our area. We've spent years nudging public opinion. I have a staff of hundreds. We have media relations, web operatives and information departments on every continent and none of them are political specialists.) She sighed, coming to a conclusion she had hoped to avoid. (I didn't want to add to the burdens on Luna, but I don't see that we have any choice. We have to tell Abby about this.) ******************************************************************* "Late night?" Kershia asked with a grin, as Jimmy settled into the last seat at the link table. He gave her a wry smile. "And an early morning," he told her, stifling a yawn. "I had to pop down first thing to check on some Lab security reports I had from Russia." "Nothing too serious?" Stephanie asked, already confident of the answer. Jimmy was better at partitioning work and leisure than anyone else she knew, but he would not be nearly so relaxed if the Russian Labs were in trouble. Jimmy shook his head. He shared the details telepathically with his second in command even as he answered her question aloud for the benefit of the others present. "The new Lab leader in St Petersburg reported concerns about possible infiltration, but what he really wanted was advice on how to identify and prevent it." "Well, we're all here now." Abigail cut across the murmured responses and called the meeting to order with a sense of regret. She looked around the circle of faces turned attentively towards her. The Luna residents were familiar sights at these morning meetings. Cole and Ben sat on one side of the table, listening carefully to the exchange between their security team leaders. Roger too had taken in the news of the Russian Lab with a frown. As leader of Luna's own security forces he faced different problems to his counterparts down below, but his hand was white-knuckled with sympathetic anxiety where it rested under Stephanie's. She stroked the back of his hand with an unconscious soothing gesture and Abby couldn't help smiling at the deep empathy the two shared. Jimmy and Kershia sat side by side almost opposite Abby at the table, the two of them appearing like a study in contrasts until she looked more closely and noted the near identical slight frowns on their faces. The reason for those frowns sat on the other side of the table. The Earth residents among the leading Tomorrow People were less frequent attendees at the breakfast meetings on Luna, each of them welcome but their collective presence something of an enigma. Abby nodded a welcome to each of them before turning back to the others. "I expect you're all wondering why Sophie, Zoë and Travin, Josh and Don are all here." Ben laughed. "Were we that obvious?" He smiled at his young friend Josh in particular before widening the greeting to include the others. "We generally see one or two of you at a time, but for you all to make it on the same morning - it did seem a little more than a coincidence." "Abby asked us to come," Josh shrugged. He yawned covering his mouth with a hand, before continuing a little sheepishly, "It is the middle of the night for us, you know." "I know," Abby's tone was apologetic, but her eyes were serious. "And I'm sorry. It's an even worse time for the Californians, Josh, but we have things to discuss this morning and I thought we should all be here." "Has something happened?" Jimmy asked quickly, his relaxed personality vanishing into the efficient and focussed persona of the security chief. "No!" Abby assured him quickly. "Not on Earth, or on the Trig, as far as we know. But I'm worried about something that's about to happen." She leaned forward, resting her arms against the link table. "The United Nations are holding a special meeting of their General Assembly in March." She held a hand up to stop the murmur of surprised and confused questions. "Wait, let me finish. A while back Sophie picked up a rumour that the reason for it was to talk about us. It was just one reporter speculating on one TV interview, but even so.... Kershia and I asked Sophie to keep an eye on things and to see if there was anything we could do to influence matters." "And last night I reported back." Sophie's expression was sombre. "Abby thinks that you all need to know what the answers were." "I asked Sophie to let me know if there was any sign that report had been true - she said yes. I asked if there was any sign of which way the debate would go - she wasn't sure. I asked if there was anything we could do to influence it -" "And I asked for help," Sophie admitted with a grimace. "If the General Assembly is going to debate us then we need to know how the vote is going to go. We can't afford for the first serious discussion of our existence to go against us. The media I can handle and, if need be, I can recruit political journalists or administrators or something of that kind. But should I?" "What do you mean?" Jimmy asked, frowning. "How is this any different from what you've been doing up to now?" "Oh, Jimmy," Abby gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "I can tell you've never really been involved in Lab politics. You've sat through our meetings but you've never seen the worst of it! People, any kind of people, are stubborn, awkward animals, fond of being contrary for the sake of it. You put four people in a room and by the time they've finished discussing an issue you'll have five viewpoints - one of them will be in two minds about it. If anything Sap politicians are worse - TPs can't avoid having a little empathy for one another's viewpoints. 'People' as a group can be influenced, informed, manipulated, if we're honest about it. Individuals are more difficult to handle. You need to find the influential politicians, the trendsetters and focal points. If you win one person over, you could have influenced thousands or just won that one person. I had studied political theory for two years before I even broke out, Jimmy. Believe me when I say that Sophie is right here. Her people aren't equipped to handle this. Either we give her the resources to recruit more of the Lab admins from around the world, or we handle this from here." Kershia leaned forward, reaching out telepathically to test Abigail's rock-tight mental defences. She shook her head; Abby was too closed in, too worried. "There's more, isn't there? What aren't you telling us?" "Well, there are deeper issues," Abby admitted. "And one of them is whether we should even try." Travin's deep voice cut across the discussion, drawing all eyes to him. He pulled a hand through his long grey hair and shook his head. "It's one thing to try and get our viewpoint out there. I don't have a problem with countering some of the ridiculous and dangerous propaganda we have to face out there. But this ... these people are elected to represent their constituents. Do we have a right to even try and influence them? Doesn't that make us just what they paint us as: manipulative schemers undermining democracy, wielding power from behind the scenes?" Stephanie frowned. "No one is suggesting we do anything illegal, Travin. Certainly, no one is suggesting for a moment that we actually use our special powers here. Name me any one of a thousand interest groups and I'll show you their lobbyists - people who talk to politicians on their behalf. All we're talking about is talking." "What we're talking about is going into the halls of power and speaking openly about our abilities." Zoe added, anxiety on her freckled face. She often remained quiet at these meetings, aware that even after a year she was still relatively junior here. Now the young American leaned forward, speaking in her clear, precise way. "We've never done that - not since the very beginning, when the Seniors had no choice but to try. Even then the Saps they let onto turned on them as often as they helped." "We have never willingly given the Saps information." TIM's rich tones startled them all. The biotronic computer had grown quiet in recent months and they listened all the more carefully when he spoke up at one of the meetings. "Not since the SIS first raided our Lab, when John and the others were young." "And that was a long, long time ago," Zoe pointed out, quickly. "Are we seriously suggesting that we're going to go out and start trusting the same politicians who set up the Camps?" "Not the same ones." Abby's response was immediate and definite. "But how many are there who just went with the flow? The ones who believed the propaganda five years ago when all this was new and frightening? How many just followed the party line because they didn't know what they were agreeing to, or because they didn't care at the time? If we can find a few key politicians in key countries and just test their points of view - we can make a difference here, even on a worldwide scale." "It will be dangerous." Jimmy's brows creased with thought and he looked around at the other security agents sitting at the table. "It's not the kind of danger we can protect against either. Anyone sent out like this is going to have to be senior enough to be convincing to whoever they're speaking to. But can you imagine the risk to their Labs if any of them are captured?" "Or the implications if one of them is forced to act in public - under duress or otherwise," Zoe added grimly. "And there's the chance that if we try talking to someone we'll turn them against us, out of fear or some instinct to preserve their own species. How many negative reactions can we afford?" "They're risks we can handle." Kershia had remained silent until now, letting the debate ebb and flow around her. Now she stood and walked restlessly around the link table, drawing all eyes with her. "We risk media exposure every day, Zoe. And TPs have appeared on television before - some of them even by their own choice. The Saps always manage to convince themselves that it's a trick, or that it was some fluke of one kind or another." She looked around the circle, speaking more generally. "Unless and until a large group of us go public, all at once, I think Sophie and company can handle the press." "There's still the risk to the Labs," Stephanie noted, her tone neutral. "I have to agree with Jimmy on that." "Then we'll have to chose both our lobbyists and our subject politicians carefully, and watch the meetings when they happen," Kershia told her. "We can manage the dangers, Stephanie. Just think of the raids your team and Jimmy's have organised, and the times you've snatched Tomorrow People back from the Saps before they could be taken to the camps. We've been restless, willing to do whatever we could to improve the situation in any way possible. Ever since the Seniors left we've been taking decisions that put some of our people in danger to save others. This is hardly any different." "I have to ask," Josh spoke up hesitantly, glancing between Travin's still unhappy expression and Abby's determined one. "Is there really |