She walked over to her coat, put it on. aYou go ahead,a she said. aIall just let myself out the back way.a Planetoid Three, Toronto Replica There was something wrong with his bed, Alex decided. He turned onto his back, and his neck tensed. Rolled onto his stomach, and felt knots. Tried his side, and got pressure in his shoulders.
aDammit,a he said, and pushed himself to sitting. No more.
He swung his legs down off the bed and made his way to the light switch. No more dreams, thank you. Head go get some work done.
He went over to his computer and opened it, looking for something to do. There were the monthly expenditure reports to file. And he needed to update some yearly reviews. But his mailbox was flashing at him. Message from the home planet. Must be Brad, he thought, and opened that.
Alex read, noting that Brad had already managed to get to a meeting of the antiempath group, who were busy plaguing all suspect teachers with anonymous e-mail, articles on empath bashers, and other equally mature responses to their fear. Theyad be stuffing office doors with memos soon, and from what Brad said, their prose was as dense as their reasoning.
aSounds like fun for Jaguar,a Alex murmured, and felt guilt well up. Head sent her there. Hadnat lifted a finger to stop the a.s.signment. No wonder he couldnat sleep, and was plagued by dreams of cellars filled with angry cats, ready to scratch his eyes out.
He scrolled through Bradas report, and saw that head also been following Jaguar to see if he could tag the people she spent the most time with. She seemed to be on very friendly terms with the dean, Ethan Davis. Head watched her leave campus with him, seen them laughing together in the halls while he was waiting to speak with an adviser. That was the good thing about this campus, he said. You always had to wait, which gave you a lot of time for watching.
Alex drummed his fingers on his desk and scowled. Ethan Davis. Okay. One for the list of lookups.
Brad also saw her spending time with Leonard Peltier, temporary faculty from Lakota country.
aLeonard Peltier,a he mused. aMust be related.a That would bear looking up too.
She also recently had lunch with George Norton, seen a movie with Harold Smith, gone to a lecture with Samitu Laki.
aArenat there any women faculty?a Alex muttered at the screen.
Apparently, there was one. Emily Rainer, whom Brad had consulted about a course for the spring semester. Alex read on and learned that Emily was definitely involved in the antiempath movement, that Bradas opinion of her was that she was doing drugs or something, by the look of her eyes, and that she didnat like Jaguar.
aGreat,a Alex said. aThanks a lot.a The report went on, and Alex grew a little concerned when he realized the game Brad was playing, trying to get Emily to contact someone to help him acurea an empath. That could be dangerous, especially if they bothered to trace Brad back to the Planetoid. He made a mental note to get Rachel first thing in the morning and make sure she coded all of Bradas records.
He had a brief moment of speculation as to whether the Board sent Jaguar to the home planet to be cured of her empathic itch, but dismissed it pretty quickly. They knew better than that. He hoped. Still, what Brad had turned up was valuable, and head taken risks to get it. aGood for you,a Alex muttered at his computer. aCompensation will be forthcoming.a The report ended by Brad giving his opinion that the student group was largely harmless, but he included a list of names of students involved. There was onea"Katia Stonea"Brad wasnat sure of. He couldnat tell if she was in the group, or just there because Steve Haigue, the Private Sanctions guru, was her boyfriend. She was a slippery one, he said. Had something she was sitting on pretty hard, he thought.
Alex sent back a message advising Brad to go slow and careful with Emily, and asking him to stick as close as he could to Jaguar without letting her know. Great job, he told him. Keep it up.
Then he worked his profile catcher on Leonard Peltier. The first thing he noted was that Leonard, born Thomas Bear Hand, was ex-army. Head spent two years as a soldier in the Killing Times, and another two years in the psychological research unit. That, Alex knew, was a euphemism for psi work.
He requested a more complete record.
His computer worked it for a full minute, and then told him the information was not available.
aState reason for data unavailability,a Alex requested.
The screen flashed back at him, aInformation Cla.s.sified.a Okay, he thought. That was interesting.
aOrganization code for cla.s.sified information,a he said.
aCoded Red.a Pretty heavy, but not impossible, Alex thought. Cla.s.sified information was not necessarily unavailable if you knew how to work the system. Red was a mid-level code, signifying research that was hot, but not about to get anyone killed. And Peltieras involvement was more than twenty years ago, so it could mean nothing at all.
He leaned back from his computer and turned this over in his mind. Then he moved on to Emily Rainer, whose history was what he might have expected. Smith educated. Dissertation blameless and dull. Spent many years in the Middle East researching texts before she came back Stateside to teach again. Nothing to write home about.
He worked his way through the other faculty members and found more of the same. Lives that followed expected tracks from birth to tenure to emeritus status and probably to grave. The only blip that turned up was an absence more than a presence. The dean, Ethan Davis, had two years practically unaccounted for in his file. Listed only as work abroad.
He thought this one through and shook his head. Could mean anything, or nothing. Missing information. Lines that didnat get filled in between that country and this. He poked around it some, trying to establish a connection between that time and army work, intelligence work, sick time, anything. Nothing much came of it.
aOkay,a he said. aLetas try the university itself.a Since he had at least one known ex-army here, and the faculty had the same, maybe those dots would connect. He went to a board that collated information from unrelated sources, and hooked in the Universityas code, which was public property, and the code for Pentagon psi work, which was not. The computer worked it for a while, then blipped out the names of the officials who approved the grant for the empathic-arts course.
He knew that already, and it was no help. He needed to know what wasnat made public. He needed to know something he didnat even know how to ask about yet. His hand twitched. Something. There was something here, he knew. Jaguar was in the middle of something, with a man who used to work for the army, and a University that was linked with the army, and faculty that wanted to cure empaths.
He needed to make contact with her, just as a checkin. A brief brush against her consciousness, polite and un.o.btrusive.
He settled himself into her signals, using the surface contact considered courteous when one empath was seeking another, and waited for a response, even if it was get the h.e.l.l out of here.
ad.a.m.n,a he said, when the static nipped at his brain. aNow, thatas new.a It wasnat the rippling, unseeable lines of a mind that was cloaking itself, or the hard feel of a closure. This was static.
He tried it again, and got the same feeling. Static. A sort of interference. Perhaps having to do with her location on the home planet? Satellite energy? He didnat think so.
It was too highly charged and complicated, circling the outskirts of her thoughts. Was it something that sought a way in, as he did? Or did it merely seek to keep him out? Maybe shead come up with a method of blocking he didnat know. She could be so resourceful with blocking.
His hand rested over the side of his chair, and felt fur. He petted it absentmindedly, thoughtfully, and was rewarded with a purr of contentment.
It took him a full minute of petting to remember that he didnat have a cat. And if he did, it wouldnat be that large.
When his eyes followed to where his hand rested, he stopped its motion.
She was powerful, beautiful, and cryptic. She could take his hand off in one bite, and finish off the rest of him before he had a chance to cry out. If she was going to kill him, shead go for the back of his skull and crack it with her teeth. If she wasnata"what was she doing here?
She turned her eyes up to him, light from an unknown source reflected in gold pierced with black slits that gazed serenely into the center of his mind.
I choose you. I choose you I choose you.
Then she stood and stalked from the room, through the door, and into the night. From somewhere far away, laughter reached him, human and knowing.
aJesus, what are you?a he whispered after her.
No answer communicated itself to him.
BREATH.
It felt like breath to her.
Being breathed into the night. Being breathed in, and the night your skin and the moon your eyes.
The trees, all the branches were coated with a diamond sheath of frost that caught the glow of the full moon and cast it back in phosph.o.r.escent blue. Mist rolled across the earth like laughing silk. She glided across the gra.s.s soundlessly, and the feel of her legs moving was pure pleasure.
The scent of the moon. The scent of the moon was sweet as hibiscus blooming out orange curved into white at the center. The scent of the moon was a liquid prism. Quartz running liquid and heated to molecular dispersion. She stopped, glanced up, breathed in.
This is what chant-shaping was like.
Being breathed in to the heart of radiant sun. Breathed in to the source. Breathed in.
Like finding the absolute center of the universe, and kissing it. Like having it kiss you back.
She rested, breathing in what breathed her.
Then she considered her hand. The scent of the moon was on her hands, and she brought her mouth down to taste.
Enough.
Enough pleasure. There was work to do.
Her feet down on the earth now. Moving now. Going. Going faster for delight. For the feel of it, muscles that would never stop and legs that never knew fatigue and going for delight. For the feel of it.
She raced the speed of the turning earth, every muscle an invocation to grace. She raced like fire coursing the hair of a sorceress. She was water. She was liquid fire burned into her own core and racing her heart to nowhere.
Liquid fire. Fire, singing her this song.
Like kissing the center of the universe. Like having it kiss you back.
She glided to herself. Breathed out.
Breathed out.
She breathed out to herself, and let go with a long sigh.
She tilted her head back and sang her song, let it begin in her, singing her where she needed to go next. The skin of the night would take her and she would let it.
Show him.
Words left her and she fell into this beauty, this ecstasy, this opening of time and s.p.a.ce. Fell into the skin that was slippery as daylight on water, elusive as the shadow of moon on snow. She breathed out. She breathed in. There, where s.p.a.ce curled into corridors of time, she ran like light.
Show him. Like kissing the center of the universe, and having it kiss you back.
Motion brought her into darkness, through thought and dreaming, through the pupils of an eye, and into the corners of a heart. Motion brought her forward, where she needed to go.
Energy skipped a beat in its natural flow. She licked the air, and let the energy she tasted become a river she could ride.
A sweet river. A way from here to there. Into dreaming. Into time and s.p.a.ce.
Where he waits. Show him.
She let it carry her through dark places, through stars, through no air, through air again, and into the room where he sat, waiting. Waiting for her.
His hand brushed her back and encased her like fire. Her breath brushed his hand, like kissing the center of the universe.
Thought like motion filling her. Her breath rolled over his hand. She drew a rough tongue across his skin.
Chosen, marked, and mine.
That was all.
She slipped back down the river, back through the tunnels shead crossed, and into a more familiar skin.
When Jaguar saw that she was drinking tequila, she a.s.sumed she wasnat at Cutters, which only served beer. She took the shot, licked the salt, and sucked the lime. Then she looked around.
This was a downtown bar, and pretty deserted except for an old man who sat down the way from her. When he turned a grin to her, she noticed the distinct absence of teeth in his mouth. But as she checked the state of her clothes, which were uniformly bedraggled and wet, she didnat blame him for thinking she was someone whoad like to spend time with him. In the large mirror that hung behind the bar, she saw that her face was streaked with mud. There was something wild in her eyes, and her hair had a mind of its own.
She looked awful.
She raised her hand in the direction of the bartender. aAnother one of these,a she asked.
One more, and then shead try to figure out where she was so that she could go home.
8.
aCOOL,a GLEN SAID, LIFTING A GLa.s.s OF beer to his lips and drinking. aI mean, this is a really cool thing to do, Dr. A.a aThank you for completing the sentence, Glen. Donat forget what youare here for, though.a She turned to the cl.u.s.ter of students gathered around the wooden table in the food service area of Cutters Bar. It was a wings-and-things nighta"free wings with two beersa"and crowded.
She decided to hold cla.s.s here so that the students could get an idea of what ritual was from observing their own rituals, in their most familiar ritual setting. She thought that might help them connect the dots of learning and life, and she was also d.a.m.n glad not to have to run a cla.s.s. The chant-shape was making it hard for her to focus. Tonight all she had to do was make sure they were here, and that they didnat get too rowdy.
aYour job is to observe,a she told them when they arrived. aLook as if you were studying a foreign culture. Notice gestures, and what they mean. Particularly notice gestures that are repeated, and see if theyare repeated for the same reason. And donat drink too much, okay?a aWould we do that, Dr. A?a Jesse Goodman asked, nudging her with an elbow and spilling some beer on her shoulder in the process. aSorry,a he said, taking a swipe at it.
She watched it soak into her white cotton shirt. Every good idea has its drawbacks, she thought.
aAll right,a she said, waving her money card at Jesse. aMake up for it. Go get me a Guinness. I could use it. And the rest of youa"disperse. We arenat under siege here, you know.a aSurea"hey, anyone wanna play holodarts?a Joey pulled at Glenas arm, and they moved through the crowds toward the game area.
The others mulled around in tight knots of friends, not sure if it was really okay to enjoy themselves this way during cla.s.stime. Some wandered off toward the VR room to play Glendarrow. Others made for the empty bar seats. Theyad get over their wariness in about another beer and ten minutes, she thought, and when Jesse brought her drink to her, she sat back and watched the show.
Steve was standing, stiff and unsmiling, next to Katia, who sipped carefully at something that wasnat a beer, and peered out over the rim of her gla.s.s wistfully at the people around her. Someday, Jaguar thought, Katia would learn to look to her own needs first, and then shead be quite a woman.
A group of young men she didnat know stood laughing with some of her students, and she noticed the gestures made toward her. One of hersa"was that Joey? Yes, it wasa"turned and waved. She wiggled two fingers at him, and nodded. He raised his beer and shouted over the din of the soundjuke to her.
aHey, Dr. A. Does it count as a ritual when a guy wants to pick someone up and heas checkina her out from across the room?a This, followed by a punch in the arm from a young man in black clothes and dark gla.s.ses.
aIt counts, Joey,a she shouted back.
At the bar, Selica, Taquana, and a few other young women cl.u.s.tered in what looked like a deep discussion. But Jaguar knew better. Probably nail color was as deep as it was getting. Pretty soon theyad rise and visit the bathroom together like a flock of young quail. They emerged from their huddle and screeched in laughter, waved at her, then returned to whatever they were whispering about.
She hoped theyad get something out of this besides a hangover and a night off.
Jaguar let her gaze pa.s.s over the variety of faces and costumes and postures at the bar, and as she did so, she saw that one manas eyes stayed with hers. He sat at the far end of the bar, opposite her trio of students, and he was staring at her. She returned the stare, waiting for him to drop it first.
He didnat.
Okay, she thought. I can play that way. She continued to stare at him, making no motion with her body or her face. She could do this all night, especially since he was a rather fine specimen of maleness to consider so closely. Cla.s.sic chiseled face, broad shoulders, blue eyes fringed with dark lashes. Not a bad view as far as she could see.
aHey, Doca"oh, s.h.i.t, look out.a She turned reflexively, in time to see a gla.s.s of beer arc over her head and splash across the table where she sat.
aOh man. Iam sorry, Doc. Iam really sorry. Lemme get it, okay?a She stood in time to avoid the trickle that ran directly toward her chair, and grinned at Ivy, a tall and gangly woman who hadnat yet learned to control her length.