Test Subjects Page 2

  She trembled, waiting. Waiting for whatever that thing was to do whatever it was going to do. The minutes passed like hours, but she just waited, fear pushing her to the brink. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

  She let the blankets fall.

  Instead of the horror she expected to find, there was nothing but her bedroom in the dim moonlight. A bright rectangle on the wall across from the window, the outline of her dresser and no impossible shadows. None.

  Slowly, she let herself catch her breath. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe a visit to her therapist's office was in order.

  Ladira felt tears on her cheeks. “What is wrong with me?” she whimpered. “Companion have mercy, I…”

  Something was wrong.

  She twisted around.

  The man-shadow was there on the wall behind her headboard. Not on the headboard; no, it was flat against the wall…and watching her.

  Ladira screamed and ran from the house.

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  Three windows in a white wall allowed the drab light of a gray afternoon into the classroom. You might have expected to find desks worktables or computers, but most of the floor space here was taken up by twelve duroplastic easels positioned in a circle.

  Rael Carrins, a tall string bean of a man with wings of gray in his dark hair, walked among his students, inspecting their work. “Well done,” he said to Savra Najen, clapping her on the shoulder as he passed her station.

  Anna wasn't quite ready for him to see what she had created.

  The painting was fairly simplistic in her estimation: just a ring of flames around a black centre, like you were staring into the eye of a tornado made of fire. She wasn't sure what had inspired her to paint that of all things – she usually went for landscapes, and the tiny nagging voice of her inner critic insisted that she should have played to her strengths – but there it was.

  Tapping her lips with a red-tipped finger, ignorant of the paint she left behind, Anna squinted at the canvas. “Not quite right,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Bleakness take me, why did I go for this?”

  “I think it's stunning.”

  Spatial awareness should have warned her that Rael was coming up behind her, but she had been so focused upon her imperfect creation, she hadn't even noticed the man's approach. “Breathtaking, really,” he said. “The anger you've captured here…You've really broken out of your comfort zone, Ms. Lenai.”

  Anna smiled into her own lap, her face suddenly burning. “Thank you,” she said, nodding once in appreciation. “But it's really not that impressive. The colour blend along the edges is all wrong.”

  “Nonsense.”

  He thrust a finger at the canvas, pointing at a spot along the edge of the ring. “The pattern you've made here,” he said. “It's exquisite in both colour composition and texture. You should consider submitting your work to galleries.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh, and…You have paint on your lips.”

  “Thank you very much,” Anna mumbled. “But there's no way my work is good enough for that. This is just a hobby for me.”

  Instead of pressing the point, he just squeezed her shoulder and moved on to look at the next student's work. Only when he was gone did Anna realize that she was feeling a touch of anxiety, and for some reason, Seth was curious about her emotional state. Most likely, her Nassai couldn't figure out why she would have a hard time accepting praise.

  With the tip of her brush, she performed a few light touch-ups on the painting. It was probably time to take a step back and accept the fact that this piece was as good as it would ever be – there inevitably came a point when further tweaking only diminished the overall quality of your work – but she was feeling like a perfectionist today. Maybe it was because this was the closest that she had ever come to doing anything professional with her art.

  She told Rael that painting was just a hobby because that was what it had always been for her. Her mother had always insisted that she had the talent to go pro, but Anna had put that part of her life aside when she became a Justice Keeper.

  This class was supposed to be fun and relaxing – a way to forget the stresses of her actual job for a few hours – but she was surprised by the amount of theory that she had to learn. There were tests and everything!

  A couple minutes later, Rael took his place at the front of the room, smiling as he addressed his students. “Everyone,” he began. “Everyone, can I have your attention for just a moment?”

  A hush fell over the room.

  “I'd like to say that you're all progressing quite well,” Rael went on. “And I should tell you that the university has asked me to choose work from some of my best students to showcase at an amateur exhibit next week. Of course, participation is voluntary, but if they're willing, I would like to submit pieces from Adria, Ty and Anna.”

  People clapped at that.

  Once again, Anna was blushing, and she wasn't entirely sure how to respond. She had been in high school the last time she submitted a painting to an art show. It wasn't a fear of criticism that made her hesitate; oh she was merciless on her own work, but she had done this a few times. She knew what to expect from the judges.

  The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she couldn't quite put her finger on why she was so apprehensive. Which probably meant that she should just suck it up and agree to do the show. “Sure,” her mouth blurted out before her brain could decide if she really wanted to commit to this. “I'll do it.”

  Of course, no one else had spoken.

  It dawned on her that she was probably supposed to wait until after class to confirm her participation. Thankfully, Rael didn't seem bothered by her outburst. “Great!” he said. “We'll go over the details later!”

  When class was over, she found herself walking down a long white hallway with windows on one wall that looked out on Vinton Street. Raindrops on the glass created a blurry image of people walking up the sidewalk with umbrellas.

  There were people in the hallway as well, students on their way to their next class, most gossiping or laughing with each other with just a little too much volume for an indoor setting. Anna blended right in, of course. Though she was at least five years older than most of these kids, she still looked like a college student, and she would continue to look like a college student when she was pushing fifty. Or at least like someone in her mid-twenties.

  “Hey!” Melissa called out.

  A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the young woman coming toward her in black pants and a gray short-sleeved blouse, her long dark hair tied up with two of those Chinese stick things some Earth girls liked. “I was hoping I'd catch you. Feel like getting an early dinner?”

  Anna spun to face her friend with arms crossed, smiling and shaking her head. “Oh, that depends,” she teased. “Are you gonna tell me if he finally worked up the guts to kiss you? I mean really kiss you.”

  Melissa went red, closing her eyes and turning her head to hide her embarrassment. “Not yet,” she said. “I just saw him twenty minutes ago. We had Advanced Legal Ethics. It was actually an intense discussion.”

  “Yes because that's way more interesting than the hot guy who has taken a liking to you,” Anna said. “You gotta work on your gossip skills, girl.”

  She linked arms with Melissa as they continued up the hallway. It was fun having someone to chat with after class. Bonding Seth at the age of sixteen meant that she had been several years younger than most of the other cadets, which didn't exactly make for the most fun social life. Even Melissa was one of the youngest students in her program, and she had just turned eighteen less than two months ago.

  Anna had never really had the college experience, not even the truncated version of it that most Keepers got. So, this was like reclaiming a missed opportunity. “You know, I have an idea,” she said. “Let's make tonight a girls' night.”

  “You really wanna party with a teenager?”

  Pressing h
er lips together, Anna felt her eyebrows shoot up. “Well, it's a policy of mine,” she replied. “You dodge bullets with me, you get to party with me. Really, honour demands no less!”

  Harry was anxious.

  When your kid's teacher called you in for a special meeting, it was never a good sign. He kept running through a list of what Claire might have done to merit this kind of attention. Maybe she had gotten into a fight. Or maybe she was falling behind in one of her subjects. Either way, it wasn't good,

  In gray dress pants and a sport coat over a simple white shirt, he stood in the middle of a hallway and marveled at how similar the place looked to an Earth school. The pale walls were decorated with student art. The blue doors had large windows that looked into classrooms.

  His chest throbbed briefly, a reminder of the gunshot wound he had taken just a few months ago. At least he was on his feet again. All those weeks spent shuffling around the house in a bathrobe had nearly driven him crazy.

  “Mr. Carlson,” a woman's voice called out. “Please come in.”

  He stepped into a classroom that was so very unlike anything he had seen on Earth. There was no blackboard. All four walls were covered in pictures the students had drawn – he recognized Claire's handiwork – and windows looked out on a quiet suburban street with skyscrapers visible in the background.

  Instead of desks, there were round worktables with a SmartGlass tablet positioned in front of every chair. He couldn't quite figure out the purpose of the wide open area in the middle of the room. Was that where the teacher lectured from? But what would she do for visual aides? Holograms. Right.

  There was one desk in the room.

  Positioned in the corner, it was occupied by a tall, curvy woman with long, brown hair that framed an olive-skinned face. “A pleasure to meet you,” she said, rising from her chair. “I'm Sora.”

  Harry offered a thin smile, then bowed his head to her. “Nice to meet you, Ms…” Oh, crap. Why did he have to insist on being formal? If this woman wanted to be on a first-name basis, who was he to protest? Things were different on Leyria. “I'm sorry; I have seen your name written, but I don't know how to pronounce it.”

  “It's Gaieles,” she said with a sweet smile. “Guy-el-es. But please, call me 'Sora.' I'm told that Earth students have a very formal relationship with their teachers. It's a little different here.”

  “All right. Sora it is.”

  Standing before him with arms crossed, Sora frowned at her own feet. “I wanted to talk to you about Claire,” she began. “Your daughter is a wonderful student, Mr. Carlson. Well-spoken, sociable and very intelligent.”

  “It's Harry,” he replied. “And thank you…But I'm assuming that you wouldn't call me in here if there wasn't a problem.”

  In response to that, Sora backed up and sat on the edge of her desk, heaving out a deep breath. “Three times a week,” she said, “we ask the students to do journal writing as a way to sharpen their language skills.

  “Lately, Claire's journals have been…rather troubling. She seems fixated on the fear of losing her family. In several entries, she ponders what she might do if you were to die, and I'm quite convinced that this fear is affecting her ability to concentrate. I'm given to understand that you suffered a gunshot wound several months ago.”

  Touching two fingers to his forehead, Harry winced. “Yes,” he replied in a hoarse voice. “Claire was pretty shook up at the time; we've had a few conversations about it since then, but I didn't realize…”

  The woman's mouth twisted, and then she shook her head as if trying to dispel a thought she didn't like very much. “Mr. Carlson…Harry…There's no easy way to say this. I know that you were a police officer on Earth.”

  “That's correct.”

  “And this led you to work with the Justice Keepers.”

  “Also true.”

  Sora Gaieles looked up at him with dark eyes that seemed to pierce right through him. “I have nothing but respect for the Justice Keepers,” she said. “But in many ways, it's a blessing that they cannot have children of their own. What child could be happy, living in constant fear that they might lose a parent?”

  Guilt clawed at him, and he tried his best to avoid letting it show. Harry tried to tell himself that he hadn't known just how badly Claire was taking this, but that was a lie. He knew. He had known for weeks, but his need to feel useful had prevented him from doing what he probably should have done a long time ago.

  He was a father first; everything else came second. Jack, Anna and the rest didn't really need him. All his life, he had put his kids first, running out on meetings, showing up late to crime scenes. The only reason he had let himself get this embroiled with the Keepers was Melissa.

  That paternal instinct made him want to look after his eldest daughter now that she was out there dodging gunfire. But Melissa didn't need him. It was hard to admit, but she didn't need his protection.

  Claire did.

  Sora took the words right out of his mouth. “I can't tell you how to live your life,” she said. “But the way I see it, you can be a good friend to the Justice Keepers, or you can be a good father. But you can't be both.”

  Harry flinched, turning his head because he didn't want this woman to see his face. “Thank you, Sora,” he said. “And you're right.”

  “I'm sorry-”

  “Don't be sorry,” Harry said. “I have some thinking to do.”

  Floodlights shone down upon a stage where a man with dark, spiky hair and thick goatee played guitar. His voice was soft and crooning, and the song was just loaded with sap, which was okay, Anna supposed. She would have preferred something with a little more energy, but there it was.

  Maybe two dozen small, round tables were spread out on the hardwood floor, each with a candle in a glass jar positioned smack dab in the middle. About half of those tables were occupied, which made for a cozy and intimate setting.

  Anna sat in a chair with her arms crossed, her feet propped up on the chair in front of her. “Excellent choice of venue,” she said with a sidelong glance for Melissa. “So, are you actually going to do something about this guy who's obviously into you?”

  On the other side of the table, Melissa sat hunched over a fruity drink with her lips closed around a twisty straw. Her eyes flicked up to Anna, and her cheeks reddened ever so slightly. “I figure it'll work itself out in time.”

  “Earth girls…”

  “What?”

  Anna exhaled slowly, then turned her head to fix a no-nonsense stare upon her friend. “If you like him, you should say something,” she said. “All of that coy flirting will only get you so far.”

  The thoughtful expression on Melissa's face told her that she just might be getting through to the young woman. “I don't know…” Melissa said. “I've always preferred to let guys make the first move.”

  “Hence my admonishment,” Anna replied. “Girl, I know you grew up on a world that taught you to be passive, but this is Leyria! So, feminism equals 'big yay!' Most men I've met appreciate a woman who knows what she wants.”

  “You've been spending too much time with Jack.”

  “Huh?”

  “You're starting to talk like him.”

  Embarrassment washed over her when she realized that she had picked up some of her partner's mannerisms. Oh, well! It probably went both ways. Maybe Jack would start answering his e-mails and showing up to meetings on time. A little organization would do that guy a world of good.

  Anna took a sip of her own drink, a minty, green concoction called a Verdant Fog. It was one of the many low-alcohol options available to teenagers, and it just happened to be one of the most delicious things she had ever tasted. “How long have you known this guy?” she asked. “Eight months? And you're still defining the relationship? That's a slow play, my friend.”

  A burst of laughter exploded from Melissa, and she trembled as she shook her head. “You're one to talk!” she exclaimed. “You and Jack knew each other for what? Five years befo
re you decided 'Hey, we might actually be a couple.' ”

  “You really think I should make a move?”

  Slouching deeper into the chair with her arms folded, Anna tossed her head back and blinked. “Melissa,” she said. “I am absolutely certain of it.”

  About two hours later, Anna used the palm scanner outside Jack's apartment to unlock the door and pushed it open to reveal Spock sitting in the square of light that spilled in from the hallway. The big orange tabby cocked his head and studied her for a moment before letting out a pitiful meow.

  Anna stood in the doorway with her purse strap slung over one shoulder, shaking her head in dismay. “You're the whiniest cat I've ever met, you know that?” She fell to her knees and scratched his head. “Come on. Let's get you fed.”

  Lights came on as soon as she went inside, revealing a living room where a gray couch faced a screen of SmartGlass on the wall to her left. Windows along the back wall looked out on the city skyline.

  Before she even got the door shut, Spock decided to rub her ankle with his arched back and then bolt off toward the kitchen. Wasn't that cat at least seven years old? How was he still so spry?

  Anna followed.

  The kitchen was a small, rectangular room with gray tiles and white cupboards on all four walls. Spock's empty dishes were in the corner. She filled one with water and the other with the cat's favourite flavour of kibble.

  Squatting in the middle of the floor with her hands on her knees, Anna smiled at the little critter. “Better?” she asked, her eyebrows climbing. “Companion forbid you should go more than three hours without a good meal.”

  She got up and turned to go.

  “Meow!” Spock protested.

  Anna shut her eyes tight, breathing deeply. “You're not gonna let me go, are you?” she muttered. “Jack will be back in a few days, and you'll get all the cuddles you could ever hope for.”