Chapter 7

Howard walked the streets of Waco, since he didn't have any pressing business at the moment needing the use of a car. Anyway, none of the cars he got along with were available. He wondered why the Foundation gave random personalities to so many of the vehicles. The RV didn't have one, but then, it spent most of its time sitting around playing hospital anyway.

He saw a familiar face and four strangers in an alley, and altered course to intervene. It was the same green-and-orange freak from before, with three new friends and a girl who appeared to be in trouble. His mind scanned forward to assess the situation, and he smiled to himself. This was going to be interesting.

"Some people just never learn!" he said as he stopped the leader from slicing open the girl's shirt.

"No, they don't." the leader said with an evil smile. The girl backed away, and the four men turned on him. The leader and two others drew guns. "You should learn not to meddle in things that don't concern you. Now it's gonna cost ya."

"You said you were just gonna beat him up!" the girl protested.

"Shut up, bitch!" the leader said.

"Don't call my sister a bitch!" the unarmed male growled, turning on the leader. "And you're not getting her involved in a murder rap!"

"Excuse me?" the leader asked. "I'm the one who makes decisions in this gang. You just do as you're told, or you can join him on the slab!" He pointed his weapon at the unarmed one. Howard threw a barrier over the siblings, off of which several bullets bounced.

"Hey, you didn't say nothing about no super-powers!" one of the other shooters said. He and the other new face turned their weapons toward Howard. He placed himself directly between them. They pulled the triggers, but Howard disappeared, appearing between the siblings instead. He teleported all three of them to the roof of the building, along with the leader's gun. He influenced the mind under the green-and-orange hair to take his compatriots' guns from their bodies. Howard called the police on his cell phone, telling them where the leader was and which way he was going.

He kept his eye on the enemy, running from roof to roof with the siblings keeping close behind despite their lack of telekinetic ability. A flash of memory from the girl revealed that the siblings were parkour hobbyists.

Soon enough, the police caught up with the gangster and arrested him. Howard kept them from killing him, and kept him from killing them. Once he was out of bullets, they took him down hard with their clubs.

He knew that simple forensics would link the bullets found in the two dead gangsters they would find at the original scene with the guns found in the leader's hands. A double murder conviction would keep him off the street for a long time. Howard saluted the officers when one of them looked up and saw him, and he and the siblings roof-jumped in the direction of the gang's hideout.

"Shit. New girls." the girl whispered as they peered down through the skylight at about twenty girls being dragged into the warehouse, most with tape over their mouths.

"Are they even legal?" Howard asked.

"Hell no." the guy said. "The boss always starts 'em out around sixteen, gets 'em hooked on something, then uses the dope to keep 'em under control."

"Wait here." Howard said, and jumped through the skylight like Batman. Dozens of men opened fire, while women and girls took cover. Howard caught the bullets with his mind, turned them around and flung them back at their owners. He opened some nearby crates with his mind, and out floated military-grade weapons, of the belt-fed variety.

"Oh, shit!" someone exclaimed.

"Yes." Howard responded, loading the weapons and spraying death in the general direction of any hostile thoughts. Others ran in terror. The women simply cowered. Howard activated a fan to suck the stink of gunpowder out of the warehouse. "What a mess." he said. Only then did he allow his feet to touch the floor. He reached out with his mind, compelling the women and girls to his side, and they walked out together, rejoining the siblings who had climbed down from the fire escape. It was a long walk back to the hotel, and many of the women were itching for their fix by then.

Except for the cuisine, Pshtlptl was a nice place to visit. Damon had managed to reduce the reek of Despicable to a tolerable level, and was enjoying some time in the sun. Kagome had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. He could understand why it was taking the Pshtlptl so long to come to a decision in their case. They were preoccupied with the ecological effects of having their moon blown up. A pair of stranded offworlders were hardly a priority. He'd managed to get a message off to Zak and had been told to sit tight.

Kslmtkpl rushed down the path toward them, shouting excitedly. Damon gently woke Kagome, who blinked sleepily up at him until the small medic arrived. Pshtlptl grew throughout their lives, and Kslmtkpl would be shorter than a human until well after its hundredth human year.

"Ship comes! I!kajij origin. You know?" it asked.

"I!kajij are invisible to psychic probes." Damon said tolerantly.

"Fascinating!" Kslmtkpl said. "Ship comes, asks for you! Lands at capitol soon!"

"Okay, we're coming." Damon said. He and Kagome smiled at each other and followed their guide to a waiting conveyance.

"Pahs'nyi!" Kagome called excitedly when they arrived. The I!kajij female smiled and accepted a hug from the young ninja, though Damon had to settle for a warrior's hand-clasp. A girl who looked like Princess Nanissa but was very definitely human stood next to two of Nanissa's retainers.

"There is trouble. Pahs'ktab will fill you in." Pahs'nyi said. Damon nodded, and the humans boarded the ship. In his cabin, Pahs'ktab clasped hands with Damon, congratulating him on wiping out the planet-killer fleet, before he started to fill him in on the situation with Roberta. Damon helped himself to an I!kajij dish that looked and tasted like alligator-chili lasagna with wasabi, though the spiciness was supposedly inherent in the meat.

"You've never much cared for our food before, young friend." Pahs'ktab remarked.

"At least it's not trying to crawl away." Damon said. Pahs'ktab laughed.

"You're lucky. I had to tell them to hold the biters and the stingers." Kagome said.

"Bah, bugs are no fit meal for a warrior!" Pahs'ktab said.

"On that, we agree." Damon responded.

"We'll be on our way as soon as we've converted the graviton-generator design to an image format the Pshtlptl's computers can display."

"Is that what's going to replace their lost moon?" Damon asked.

"Hardly a romantic image, but it'll give 'em tides and such--plus something to use the rest of their old fission missiles as fuel for. They can convert it for antimatter later, if they can develop the technology on their own or we can get permission to share it with them."

Penelope concentrated on everything that had ever made her angry as she stomped out of the Federal building, providing a convincing mask for those she knew were awaiting her--though, with the officious bureaucrats coming at her adoptive father from every direction, she didn't need much masking. Someone jumped out of a tree, landing behind her. I'm not making it THAT easy for you. she thought, slamming her would-be assailant against the red brick facade. Predictably, she was surrounded. The ring was thickest in the direction of the building, cutting her off from help. Penelope put on a good show, dodging two dozen tranquillizer darts before allowing herself to be "caught" in a pincer move.

She hated needles, and wished she wouldn't have to be tranquillized. She didn't shrink when four of the darts sank into the flesh of her right thigh, however. She never felt herself hit the ground.

When she awoke, she had an inhibitor in the back of her neck, but at least she had clothes on. Scratchy prison-issue clothes, but still clothes. The door opened and Dr. Lang entered.

"Let me just make sure that's fitted properly." he said, tilting her head forward and deftly disabling it in such a way that the guards couldn't see. "Looks good to me." he assured the guards. "This little minx won't be going anywhere I don't want her."

"Not to worry, Doc, we'll make sure o' dat." one of the guards said in an obviously-fake gangster accent. Penelope seated herself on the hard bunk. She could use her powers, but she still couldn't read the minds of the guards because they were shielded. No matter. They would send a telepathic agent to pick her brain soon, and that agent couldn't be shielded. The enemy had the advantage of numbers, but the Foundation was better-trained, not controlled by psychophobes.

She assumed the pose of a sulky child, but silently centered herself, as Zak and Yoshiko had taught her. A telepath approached. Penelope opened her eyes as the force field over the cell entrance was disabled. Her inquisitor was a slim man, his skin so dark that his white eyes and teeth seemed to be separate entities.

"What do YOU want?" she asked as if she didn't know.

"The truth. All of it." the telepath said. "And don't tell me I can't handle the truth. That was funny the first time I heard it, but the humor sort of tapered off over the next five thousand repetitions."

"Then I won't." Penelope said. "My name's Penelope. What's yours?"

"Charlton Michael Freeman." the other responded, the twist of his mouth showing that he appreciated the irony. He stepped closer, within arm's reach. She put out her hand, gently, inviting.

"What are you waiting for, Mr. Freeman?" she asked, softly. He grasped her hand and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them wide in surprise upon finding that her powers worked. She winked at him. Fasten your seatbelt, it's gonna be a bumpy ride. She opened wide the floodgates.

Victor was glad he'd had the chance to give some of his own aggravation back after Penelope was caught. He didn't like the thought of her in enemy hands again, but Inet assured him that it wouldn't be a repeat of the Seven Devil Seven incident. He made sure the auditors and assessors couldn't get a word in edgewise, putting out an endless stream of auditory abuse that left their ears ringing when he had to pause for breath.

A new face entered the room, his private thoughts flowing in Hindi. He gestured for the others to leave the room, and took a seat across from Victor. "We are sorry for this unfortunate incident, however, our superiors refuse to let it distract us from the matter of your taxes."

"There is a good reason for everything I do, even if the reason is not plain to others." Victor said in Hindi.

"You speak Hindi?" the other asked.

"Along with several other languages." Victor responded. "It's a talent of mine. What's your name?"

"Abhay Singh, and I've met plenty of rich men who thought that tax law didn't apply to them."

"That's not my thinking at all." Victor said. "You seem like the kind of person I can be honest with, so let's get right down to it, shall we?" He extended his hand. Abhay grasped it, and Victor extended his mind, giving Abhay Singh a whirlwind tour of the other side of the looking-glass. He had to steady Abhay to keep him from passing out. Victor guessed he could have been gentler, but they were short of time. "I've got a police report to file on my daughter, Mr. Singh, but if you'll come by the Pan-Galactic later, I'll see that you're buzzed in, and we can have a more thorough interview then." Abhay sat in the chair Victor vacated, still reeling from the flood of information.

Hattie saw Charlton coming out of the debriefing room. She waited until he was just outside the janitor's closet in which she hid before pulling him in with her. She moved the pins with her mind as she kissed him. She felt him touch her mind. Helpfully, she relaxed to ease into the mental rapport. Her hands were at his buttons, undoing them for him as he undid hers. Instead of sharing the brutal debriefing session, he turned his mind back farther in time to his interrogation of the new prisoner, who had shared what she knew willingly. It had been Charlton who had held back--on their masters.

He held nothing back now. Hattie saw the outside world for the first time in ten years--over half a lifetime ago--since she had been taken away from her home by GOLEM agents who claimed she was now a national security secret. Her mind basked in the warmth of Charlton's second-hand vision of freedom while her body sought pleasure of its own. She let knowledge of things she'd never done before flow into her, become part of her. She would need that knowledge if she was ever to experience that freedom first-hand.

And she wanted it, more than she'd ever wanted anything else in her life. Silently she blessed Penelope Simms Phillips for showing her the way. She kissed Charlton again as they lay on the floor, panting. The joy of their shared knowledge had enhanced their lovemaking. She knew she was going to get pregnant. The medic had dosed her with something to induce an ovulation, coupled with an aphrodisiac--not that she ever needed one with Charlton; his tenderness was a rare enough treat--to get her to breed for them. They cleaned up and straightened their clothes. As much as she wanted to savor what little time they had together, she knew someone would come along soon.

She waited a good twenty seconds after Charlton left before quitting the closet herself. Pushing off from the floor and pulling along by the doorways nearby, she sped down the corridor at a speed that was hardly safe, and as a result was barely late for PT. Barely late was still late, however, and she doubled over as the commander touched a control on his watch, sending waves of agony through her body. Her muscles quivered as she forced herself to her feet and joined the ranks with the other telekinetic females.

"Odd-numbered ranks, about face!" the commander said. The first, third and fifth ranks obeyed, and Hattie found herself staring into the eyes of her nemesis, Bidda Cruise, a full level above her in telekinesis, raised by the Department from birth. She had been trained to be ruthless and absolutely devoted to the Department's aims. "Unarmed combat! Pair off!" The ranks spread out until each pair had a ten-by-ten foot square in which to spar.

"Ready to lose, Hattie Flattie-on-the-Ground?" Bidda teased.

"Not this time, Biddy." Hattie said.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that." Bidda snarled.

"Begin!" the commander commanded. Bidda lunged, but Hattie was no longer there. She whirled quickly upon reappearing, her left foot catching her opponent behind the ear. She followed this up with a powerful right-handed punch with a lot of shoulder behind it. Bidda rolled to her feet and took a moment to pop her jaw back into place.

"Where'd you learn that?" Bidda demanded. Instead of answering, Hattie used her powers to kick up the dust. She knew she had the attention of the rest of the trainees now, but she didn't care. Bidda charged at her last known position, slicing through the cloud of dust with telekinetic force, but Hattie wasn't there. She was ten feet up in the air, and she brought herself down hard, reinforcing her blow with a telekinetic strike of her own. Bidda went down, tried to get back up, and fell again.

"Where did you learn that?" the commander demanded. Hattie hesitated, and the commander called over a telepath. Hattie knew better than to resist the rough probe. The telepath, a young man named Fletcher, gasped in surprise and proceeded more gently after seeing what her mind contained.

Sorry. he thought contritely. She managed to convey her forgiveness without showing to others that her ordeal had been anything less than merciless. "She has a boyfriend who harvested the skill from a captured enemy operative during her interrogation. I can improve the effectiveness of the others by passing the information along, if that is your command, commander."

"Do it, teep, but be quick about it." the commander snarled. Fletcher moved one by one to each of the female kinetics. The commander assigned Hattie to take Bidda to the infirmary.

"Good work, Hat." Bidda whispered as the younger girl carried the elder back to the complex. "Never, ever turn down a tactical advantage. Maybe you'll make a decent agent yet." Hattie frowned. She didn't want to be an agent. Now that she had a choice, she intended not to be one.

Penelope could sense the change in the atmosphere as the knowledge and hope that she had shown to Charlton was shared among the psi-agents and trainees. There would be trouble with the ones who were raised by the Department and had never known anything else, but not much. Certainly nothing her growing army couldn't handle. This particular STD installation would be destroyed from within.

Fortunately, there weren't many high-level psis to contend with. With Howard's generator-gestalt trick, she could almost match them for raw power. Her training would make up the difference.

"Home, sweet home!" Damon enthused, breathing in the familiar air of Earth. Kagome bowed to her ninja comrades. Yoshiko hugged her, and they began to laugh.

"Welcome home!" Svetlana said, running into Damon's arms. Maria and Tetsuko joined her, and he let each of them know how much he had missed them. Roberta hugged Howard in the same way that Nanissa would, mindful of the fact that STD spy-satellites could be watching any time they were in the open.

Soon enough, the return party had moved inside, and everyone could be themselves. The Pshtlptl greeted Victor in their own way. Kslmtkpl introduced Jhdmlkfrntknktstr, the Pshtlptl equivalent of the Surgeon General, and Fnkgstltdmnshtfkgrmblshnk, a dignitary of some sort and of considerable size. Damon explained on a tight mental line that Pshtlptl started with one-syllable names and earned more syllables as symbols of achievement.