Retrieval Special Agent Lenore Baxter was irritated. It showed in her voice.
"Janet, I really don't have time for this. Just tell me what the problem is and stop hedging!"
There was a moment's pause, then,
"Lenore, please! I really don't want to be explicit, not over an open line…"
"This is Agency HQ, it's not an open line!" Lenore snapped, then took a deep breath and tried to make her voice sound reasonable. "I need more to go on, Janet. I can't tie up two Agents without knowing why."
Another silence, then -
"If I was to say 'telekinetic rogue talent', would that bring you here?"
Lenore stiffened. Her psi partner, Razor (a.k.a. Special Agent Adelaide Anderson) stared, frowned, then carefully placed her half-empty coffee mug on the desk. Lenore eyed her for a second.
"We'll be right there."
A loud sigh. "Please try and be restrained. I don't want to attract attention."
"Aren't we always?" Lenore dropped the communit before Janet had a chance to object and turned to her partner.
"Sounds interesting."
"If it's true."
Lenore shrugged.
"Janet's never let me down before."
"There's always a first time, Baxter."
Rolling her eyes, Lenore gestured exaggeratedly towards the exit.
"Shall we?"The vast sprawling warren of the east end took them an hour to negotiate, even with Lenore's specialist knowledge (and her link to traffic control through the neural cable by which she drove the car): it was nearly 4.30 am by the time they reached the ancient tower block in which Janet had her hideaway. Lenore pulled to a stop outside the main entrance, unplugged, and turned to Razor.
"No use trying to scan, Janet has nullpsi."
Razor scowled.
"How'd she afford that?"
The flatscan grinned.
"She has her methods… She didn't give me much information, but if the rogue's ended up here it's a safe bet they… how can I put it?... have little respect for authority? Yeah, that covers it… So go easy, OK? Let me talk first."
"Oh, be my guest…"Janet eyed Devon worriedly. The kid was stirring, which was probably a good thing, she could try to explain things before the Agents arrived. But she was alone now, Sophia was with another client: if Devon tried to do… anything… she had no-one to help her stop him. Sighing, she seated herself back on the edge of the sofa.
"Honey?"
Pale green eyes fluttered open. Janet smiled nervously.
"Honey, there are a couple of people coming to see you… No," she shook her head, raising a hand, palm out, as he scrambled into a sitting position, eyes wide with fear. "No, don't be scared. They're friends of mine. They might be able to help you. They won't hurt you, I promise."
Devon watched her, keeping his expression impassive, but he was tense, and she could somehow feel a sort of subtle pressure, pushing against the front of her body, trying to keep her at a distance.
"Who are they?"
"Their names are Lenore and Adelaide."
"And what are they?"
Well, she thought to herself, he had every right to be suspicious, given the sort of life he led. She sighed.
"They… they're with an organisation that tries to help people."
He grimaced, his voice bitter.
"Yeah, so do fuckin' social workers."
Janet hesitated, but it had to be said.
"They're… Agency."
What little colour there was drained from his face, and she instinctively reached for him, mentally slapping herself when he flinched away.
"I promise, they won't hurt you, and I won't let them do anything you don't want."
"You think you can stop them? Agents? Those freaks can do anything they fucking want…" He chewed at his thumbnail, then pulled himself from the sofa - only to collapse to his knees, face screwed up and hand grasped to his side. The wound was bleeding again.
"Oh fuck…"
Janet carefully knelt beside him, arm across his shoulders, hugging the skinny, trembling body to her.
"I promise. Honey, please just listen to what they have to say."
Gritting his teeth, he allowed her to ease him back onto the sofa - not that he had much choice, it had been a long time since he'd felt this weak - then something clicked. He glared at her.
"Why'd you call them? Why not the regular fuzz?"
She bit her lip. Sophia had said he wasn't aware he was a talent…
"Devon, honey… haven't you ever wondered how you can do that? Lift things without using your hands?"
He regarded her blankly. Was he even aware he did it?
"Remember, when you woke up, the first time? I was floating?"
He frowned, then rubbed at his forehead.
"I don't… But… I thought that was you…"
She shook her head.
"No, honey. That was you."
He stared, eyes wide and disbelieving, then his fists clenched in the blanket - and she found herself sprawled on the floor.
"No! I'm not a fucking freak!"
Janet raised her hands, trying to keep her expression calm. The pressure around her was increasing…
"Devon… Listen to me. Devon!"
He was trembling, curled over with his hands clenched tightly over his ears, panting.
"No… no…"
She struggled her way onto her knees and pulled him into her arms, holding him closely.
"It's OK… C'mon honey, it's OK…"
"… freak…"
"No, you aren't. It's a talent, Devon, a natural gift, something special, something precious."
He tried to pull back, but Janet slid up onto the sofa and hugged him more tightly, one hand to the back of his neck holding his head against her shoulder, rocking slightly, soothingly. His breathing was too fast, too shallow, and his body shook with every heartbeat. He really hadn't known, consciously at any rate… She kept her voice to a low murmur.
"It's OK. Trust me, Devon, it's OK. There's nothing wrong with having such a gift."
She held him, stroking his hair, as he slowly relaxed, his breathing and heart-rate slowly returning to normal. Fifteen minutes later he pushed back against her shoulders slightly, and she released him, one hand lifting the long shaggy fringe so she could see his face properly. He was ashen, lines of stress around his eyes and mouth.
"Why'd you do that?"
She blinked.
"Do what, honey?"
"Hold me. No-one's ever done that."
Poor baby. Without thinking she kissed his forehead.
"You needed it, honey." You need someone to care…
He eyed her, silently, for several moments, then nodded once.
"Could I have some more water?"
And that, Janet realised, was as much acknowledgement as she was going to get. She smiled and rose slowly to her feet.
"Of course. Would you like some soup, too?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. She frowned.
"Are you sure? It would be good if you could eat something. It'll help you heal more quickly."
"Just water."
She nodded and pulled another bottle from the pantry. It wasn't worth pushing her luck by insisting.
He sipped slowly, watching as she hunted in one of the cupboards lining the side wall of the room. After five minutes she had a pair of jeans - faded and well-worn but soft and serviceable - a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of long, thick socks over one arm: closing the door she turned back to her guest and held the garments up for him to see.
"I think they'll fit." She smiled. "I had to throw out what you were wearing when you got here. Oh, not the boots or jacket," she added as his eyes widened in dismay. "But the jeans and t-shirt had to be given a decent burial, I'm afraid. And I've no underwear for you."
He nodded, reluctantly, and reached for the clothes, careful not to stretch too far or too quickly.
"Don't wear any anyway."
She chuckled.
"I kind of gathered that…" She glanced at the timepiece, wondering if he had time for a shower, then decided he probably wouldn't be able to stand upright long enough for one anyway - not without her help, and the shower was a bit small for both of them. And they definitely didn't have time for him to have a bath. She hovered as he pulled the jeans on, wincing as he eased them over his rear. Janet had to help him with the shirt - he couldn't raise his arms high enough to manage by himself - and he left his feet bare. More comfortable that way.
Dressing exhausted him, and he slumped back against the sofa, slightly sideways to take the pressure off his aching backside, gazing up at Janet from half-closed eyes.
"So what're they like, these fucking Agency freaks?"
She sat beside him, pouring him another beaker of water.
"They're OK. Lenore is nice. Friendly, normal. Used to be with the police. Adelaide - well, she's not so… approachable. Oh, she's OK," she hastened to reassure Devon, who'd tensed again. "A bit abrupt. She doesn't have much time for normals. Most normals, that is, obviously she's OK with her partner. She'll be fine with you."
He didn't look convinced.
"So what sort of freak is she?"
Janet sighed.
"They - you - aren't freaks, Devon." She paused, but he didn't respond. She sighed again, silently. "She's a telepath."
He covered his eyes with his hand.
"Oh, fuckin' great. And you think this is going to be good for me?" He pushed himself painfully upright. "Let me out."
She caught him as his legs gave way and lowered him back to the sofa. He managed a glare.
"What've you fuckin' done to me!?"
"It's the drugs the medic gave you, Devon. They're speeding up your healing - but drawing on your own reserves to do it. That's why you should eat. And rest."
"Fuck that…"
He pushed himself to his feet again and stumbled forwards a couple of steps, then halted, brow furrowing as he concentrated. Janet felt that strange pressure again, watching in awe as the air around him seemed to shimmer faintly: he rose a bare inch from the ground and floated towards the window. Managing to get almost half-way there before he blacked out and dropped heavily to the floor.
"Shit…" Janet dived towards him, hauling his limp body from the floor and with a muttered, "I'm too bloody old for this!" depositing him back on the sofa. Kids! Still, better here than outside…
The apartment was ten storeys up.
At that moment there came a quiet knock on the door. Hurrying to the hallway she checked the scanner, then cracked the lock and ushered the two Agents into the apartment, hurriedly relocking and shooing the women into the living room.*And that unprepossessing article is supposed to be a psi?*
Lenore raised an eyebrow and smirked at her partner.
*Obviously never had your advantages. He's pretty though, isn't he?*
*Humph.* Razor moved forwards to frown down at the youth, whose eyelids were fluttering as he regained consciousness. Lenore pushed the 'path to one side and crouched down in front of Devon. She smiled as his eyes opened.
"Hello. I'm Lenore."
He eyed her suspiciously, levering himself up and lowering his feet to the floor.
"You're the normal?"
Her eyebrows rose at the incongruity of the rough low growl, but before she could reply -
"We prefer the term 'flatscan'."
Devon's head jerked around and up to gaze at Razor, towering over him. Lenore sighed and laid a hand on his knee, yanking his attention back to herself.
"That's my partner. She has a bad habit of interrupting me." She smiled gently into frightened green eyes. "Yes, I'm the normal. Janet tells me your name's Devon?"
He nodded warily. She inclined her head, then moved to sit beside him, leaving a little distance between their bodies.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Devon." She glanced at Janet. "I wonder if I could trouble you for a coffee? Getting here was a nightmare - I swear the roads are getting worse."
Janet nodded. "Of course. Black, no sugar, right?"
Lenore nodded. "Yes thanks - same for both of us."
As Janet went through to the kitchen Lenore turned back to the youth, who was switching his gaze between the Agents and looking very uneasy. Lenore chuckled.
"You shouldn't mind my partner. Her bite's worse than her bark…"
He stared at her blankly, and she sobered.
"I suppose you're wondering why we're here?"
"Janet said you were Agency."
Lenore nodded.
"That's right. And I'll bet you think the same of the Agency as everyone else does, that we're some sort of scary pseudo-militaristic kind of police force, poking into places we're not wanted, using all sorts of mind-tricks to find out things people don't want us to know."
He crossed his arms and smirked sarcastically.
"And you're here to tell me that's all fucking lies, that you're all sweetness and light and human compassion."
*Oh just wonderful. A smartarse…*
*Shut up, Anderson.*
Lenore smiled, but it was slightly forced.
"Well, I'd be lying if I said that's the truth. However, it is what we're working towards, creating a society where those sorts of things can survive and flourish. We're trying to weed out those who make life difficult for the ordinary, decent folk who just want to live peacefully."
"Very fucking nice of you."
"Wouldn't you rather live in a society like that?"
"Wouldn't be able to."
She frowned.
"I don't understand…"
"How would someone like me be able to live in your nice, safe, crime-free society? What would I do?"
Lenore blinked.
"Well, we have schools, and places that could train you, so you could find legal employment…"
He laughed harshly.
"Who are you trying to fucking kid? You gonna take all the street-rats and orphans and whores and thieves and fucking give them proper jobs?"
Lenore found herself gaping and closed her mouth. She frowned, a little unsure of how to continue, but Janet's arrival with two mugs of steaming coffee saved her having to answer right away. She took a couple of long sips, then smiled at the youth.
"You're quite right, of course. We can't. But even if we can help a few of them, it's worth it." She paused for a moment, then inclined her head. "We'd like to help you."
He snorted.
"Sure you would!"
"I'm serious. The Agency looks after its staff well. You'd be trained, and provided for, have a worthwhile purpose in life… And we'd protect you."
"I don't need protecting."
"You do if you're what the flatscan says you are." Razor's cold tones cut through whatever her partner had been about to say, and Lenore scowled.
*Will you let me finish?*
Razor smirked.
*Get on with it then…*
Devon glanced at Janet. Lenore smiled.
"She tells us you're a psi. A telekinetic."
Devon's faced was closed.
"She's lying."
Razor smiled, humourlessly.
"Oh, I don't think so…"
… fingers, trying to claw their way into his mind… a knife prising him open…cold bright blue eyes smiling, smiling…
Devon screamed. And Lenore found herself on her back on the other side of the room. Scrambling upright, she fought her way back to her partner against what felt like a silent howling gale - then dropped to the floor, dragging Razor with her, as a hail of kitchen knives, wrenched from the wall, from out of drawers, headed toward the psi. Pointed ends first.
*Bloody hell!*
*Bloody is right if you don't stop him!*
The knives had been replaced by other kitchen implements, less deadly but still painful. And in the midst of it all a terrified Devon hovered upright, inches from the floor, eyes almost glowing as he directed the assault. Without moving a muscle.
Janet was behind him, wringing her hands helplessly, unable to think what to do. But it didn't last for long. She saw the youth falter, collapse onto his knees on the floor as the objects still in mid-air dropped with a clatter. And Razor stood upright, fury blazing on her face.
*Right, you little…*
*Razor! Don't hu…*
Devon suddenly arched backwards, face a mask of agony, then fell heavily to the floor. For an instant there was silence, then Janet cried out and hurried to his side.
*…rt him…* Lenore finished resignedly.
"What did you do?" the older woman was distressed, hugging the youth's limp body to her. "I promised him you wouldn't hurt him!"
Razor dusted herself off, then regarded the flatscan coldly.
"Should never make promises for other people."
Lenore glared briefly at her, then moved to check on the motionless telekinetic. Janet shifted to shield him, scowling.
"I think you've done quite enough damage."
Lenore sighed.
"I'm sorry, Janet. I'd much rather this hadn't happened. But it has, and he's powerful. Very powerful. We can't just let him go. We have to take him in. You know we have to. We can't risk the Syndicates getting hold of him. And that little display probably even got through your nullpsi."
Janet stared, then slumped.
"Shit."
"But I doubt anyone could pinpoint it. As long as we get him back to HQ, now, you should be OK."
Janet hesitated, gazing down at the kid's pretty face. So young. She eyed Lenore sadly.
"He'll be OK?"
The Agent smiled and patted her informer's arm.
"Of course he will. We'll train him, look after him - heh, I'll bet you once he's learned to use his talent he'll love it! Now, I need to know anything you know about him…"
Razor fitted the youth with a nullpsi headband while her partner took down the scanty details Sophia had gleaned earlier, then applied her own psi-block to make sure he stayed unconscious - and his talent suppressed - until they could get him into a containment suite at HQ. Janet watched as the tall 'path lifted the kid lightly into her arms, then turned to Lenore.
"You'll look after him?"
"We will."
"And will you… will you apologise to him? For me?" There were tears in the older woman's eyes. "I hate breaking my promises. And he deserved better."
Lenore patted her shoulder.
"I will. I'll explain it all to him, personally. I'll make him understand."
Janet sniffed and tried to smile.
"Thanks… Will we ever see him again?"
Lenore shrugged.
"I don't know. A lot depends on how his training goes, and how he scores on the aptitude tests. But if it's possible, I'll let you know."
"Have you finished blathering yet? I want to get home."
Lenore glared at her partner, then turned back to Janet.
"She's right though, we need to go. Thanks Janet. You've done the city - and the Agency - a big favour tonight. I'll make sure you get due recompense."
Janet sighed.
"That isn't why I do it."
"I know. But we do appreciate it - even that…" She bit off the comment and jerked her head in her partner's direction. Razor glowered - then decided it wasn't worth bothering about. She headed for the door, glancing back over her shoulder impatiently. Janet hurried to release the locks: Lenore turned back briefly as her partner strode to the lift, Devon still in her arms.
"Thanks, Janet. Personally, from me. You've saved his life, you know. If we hadn't got him, the Syndicates would have. And his life wouldn't be worth living." She smiled gently. "Promise I'll let you know how he gets on, OK?"
And an hour and a half later Devon was slowly coming back to consciousness, a medic and a counsellor at his side, in a luxurious - but escape-proof, even for him - suite deep inside Agency HQ.
His future was looking very interesting indeed.
© 2003 January 31st Joules
Darkside