Symbiosis Read online

  She jumped and kicked out, driving a foot into the man's chest. The impact sent him stumbling backward, landing hard on his ass and sliding across the floor tiles. He let out a painful groan.

  With heightened spatial awareness, her frenzied mind projected the image of one of the guards coming up behind her. A big man with a barrel chest, he spread his arms wide as if to catch her in a bear hug.

  He charged at her.

  Anna reached back over her shoulder, catching his wrist in one hand. She bent over and flipped him over her shoulder, dislocating his arm in the process. The man landed on his backside with a shriek.

  She spun around just in time to see the third guard trying to draw his pistol from its holster. Sweat glistened on his face as he stared at her with his mouth agape, fear visible in his eyes.

  He managed to pull the weapon free.

  Anna kicked the gun out of his hand. She spun like a whirlwind, driving her elbow into his nose.

  The man's head jerked backward, blood dripping from his nose. He stumbled about, then fell over sideways. Now there were four security officers on the ground. A fat lot of good she'd done here.

  Anna felt her mouth tighten as she stared down at him, her blue eyes flicking back and forth. She winced and shook her head. “I didn't want to do this,” she began, “I'm on your side here.”

  She spun on her heel.

  Charging up the corridor, she kept watch of the fallen men with the assistance of her Nassai. The one she had taken down first was getting to his feet, hunching over as he searched for his gun.

  No threat there.

  She rounded a corner.

  Good fortune had been with her today; she had been able to elude the three guards without having to resort to some of her flashier abilities. Justice Keepers such as herself had a vast arsenal of talents beyond simple hand-to-hand combat, but each use taxed the Nassai and the host. Overuse could be fatal. Much better to disarm an enemy with your hands than to risk passing out.

  With a little luck, she would be able to find Denario before he got too far. This city would be a maze to both of them, and it was a good bet that the people here would not be prepared for the technology he had at his disposal. Her greatest concern, however, was for the prisoner he carried with him.

  She had to recover it.

  After a long trek up to the first floor – one in which she had been careful to avoid the attention of any security guards – Anna found herself in a lobby with a set of double doors that looked out on a city street. Through the glass, she could see what appeared to be automobiles on the road.

  Tall buildings in the distance rose up toward the night sky, some with tiny lights in their windows. What level of threat should she expect from these people? The thought of going up against the locals left her queasy.

  Anna jerked to a halt.

  Pursing her lips, she stared through the window, then narrowed her eyes. “A whole lot of civilians,” she said, shaking her head. “And a bloody good chance that someone is going to get hurt.”

  She pushed through the door.

  Once outside, Anna found herself on a columned walkway with marble pillars that supported an overhanging roof and steps that led down to the sidewalk. Automobiles that were parked along the sidewalk blocked her view of the road.

  She drew her pistol.

  Anna stepped forward with the gun raised in both hands, pausing at the top of the steps. Now, where is he? she thought, looking around. He only had a few minutes' lead on me. He can't be-

  She spotted a man a short ways up the sidewalk, crouched behind one of the parked automobiles and scanning the road as though looking for a chance to run across. The gray hair on the back of his head was unkempt.

  “Denario!”

  He turned.

  Clenching her teeth, Anna felt her face redden. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Stay where you are, Denario!” she screamed. “You move so much as one inch and I swear by all that's holy, I'll end you!”

  He rose and spun around to face her. The force-field generator fused into the palm of his hand was still blinking away. “This won't work, Agent Lenai,” he shouted. “I have no intention of coming with you.”

  A grin bloomed on his weathered face as he craned his neck to study her. Denario Tarse narrowed his eyes. “Harm me,” he went on, “and the creature I carry dies as well. Your gunfire could break open the stasis pod.”

  “I might just risk it.”

  Anna fired.

  A screen of white static appeared in front of the man, intercepting her bullet at the very last second. The slug bounced off and fell to the sidewalk. “Foolish girl!” Denario growled, thrusting a hand out.

  The force-field sped forward, up the steps. Anna spun around and put her back to a pillar just in time to feel the energy wave strike the other side. Chunks of granite fell to the ground.

  Anna felt her face crumple into an anguished wince. She tossed her head about in frustration. “Bleakness take you, Denario!” she said. “Your tricks aren't going to serve you this time!”

  She lifted her gun. “E-M-P!”

  The pistol's sleek black surface reflected the street lights. LEDs on the side of the barrel suddenly lit up, turning white. If her luck held, the charged rounds would short out his generator.

  Anna spun around the pillar, raising the gun.

  This time, when she fired, white tracers zipped through the air, causing Denario's force-field to wink out as they passed through it. The man stumbled backward, pressing his body to the side of a parked automobile.

  Denario clenched his teeth, his face turning red. He shut his eyes tight and shook his head. “Idiot girl!” he screamed at her. “Do you really think I wasn't prepared for your interference?”

  He pulled his jacket aside, revealing a thick armoured vest with three smoking slugs mashed against its fabric. “I have many tricks,” he said, revealing a small gray sphere in his left hand.

  Anna felt her eyes widen.

  The sphere suddenly floated up into the air, orienting itself to point a lens at her, a lens that began to glow with fierce orange light. Anna threw herself behind the pillar and dropped to a crouch.

  A beam of orange light burned through the granite just above her head, striking the building's front wall and shattering a window that looked in on the lobby. Shards of glass fell to the ground. When the light winked out, the acrid stench of scorched air hit her like a blow to the face.

  A Death-Sphere! The man had brought a bloody Death-Sphere! Anna had to think fast. If she ducked out from behind the pillar, the damnable sphere would target her and fire before she could blink. She needed time.

  Anna closed her eyes.

  Calling upon her Nassai for assistance, Anna threw up a warp bubble, a sphere of rippling air that formed around her body. Time moved faster for her than for anyone else; minutes here passed as mere seconds out there.

  Unfortunately, her mobility was limited. Once it was in place, the bubble could not be moved, and though its surface was permeable to anything but Anna herself, she would be unable to escape.

  Anna spun around the pillar.

  Through the warp bubble's rippling surface, she could make out Denario's sphere as an amorphous gray blob. It was trying to reorient itself, trying to focus that lens upon her once again.

  Her temples began to throb.

  Crouching down, Anna raised her gun in both hands. She squinted as she took aim, then fired. Glowing white bullets appeared beyond the bubble's surface, spiralling as they floated gracefully through the air. Each one was on course for the Death-Sphere. The pain in her head made it clear that Anna could hold this Bending no longer.

  She let the bubble pop.

  The floating sphere was suddenly knocked off course, blue sparks flashing over its body as the EMP rounds shorted its circuitry. The thing dropped to the ground, landing on the steps, then exploded.

  Raising a hand to shield her eyes, Anna grunted. She turned her face away from the blast, ignoring the h
eat. “Damn you, Denario!” she whispered. “When they finally decide to space you, I'll push the button myself.”

  She got to her feet.

  A huge black scorch mark now decorated the concrete steps. She spotted parked cars along the sidewalk but no sign of the fugitive. No doubt he had made his escape while she had been busy with his little toy. And he carried a captive Nassai with him. Her symbiont grew restless at the thought of harm coming to one of its brethren.

  Something caught her eye.

  A streak of light blazed across the night sky, bright like a falling meteor – a streak of light that exploded somewhere high above the city. The flash was intense but faded away in an instant. Her shuttle? Perhaps Dex had been shot down. Anna felt a sharp ache in the pit of her stomach.

  Now, she was alone.

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  The sun was a blazing disk nearly halfway to its zenith, sending out waves of light that glinted off of every window. Huge buildings rose up to tickle the clear blue sky, tall spires of tinted glass and concrete.

  Ottawa was a bustling city at any time of day, but 10 a.m. – that joyful hour when people had finally settled into their workday routine – was a little calmer than rush hour but still annoyingly busy. With all the traffic on the packed city streets, no one noticed as an old Honda Fit pulled into a parking lot and rumbled to a stop.

  Pressing his back into the driver's seat, Jack Hunter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, happy day…” He reached up with both hands to massage his temples. “I just love operating on five hours' sleep.”

  A quick once-over in the rear-view mirror confirmed his unkempt appearance. His thin angular face was marked by high cheekbones and bright blue eyes, his dark hair cut short with messy bangs crossing over his forehead. “Well, if they wanted me to look nice, they probably shouldn't have called me right after a late shift.”

  He got out of his car.

  Jack wore a pair of blue jeans and a gray t-shirt with a V-neck, its fabric clinging to his back from sweat. Oh, I love the late shift… He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. There's nothing like going against your very genetic makeup to make you feel more like a man.

  The parking lot was a flat sheet of black asphalt baking under the fierce sunlight of a warm spring day. His view of the river – and the Parliament Buildings along its bank – was obscured by tall concrete spires in every direction, and the noise was enough to make him groan. For the fifteenth time since crawling out of bed, Jack noted that human beings had a way of building stress factories for themselves.

  He spotted a beat-up old hot-dog cart on the street corner. The thing was dented in several places, the yellow tarp that formed a makeshift rooftop ripped and torn, but Jack knew the proprietor.

  Approaching with hands clasped behind his back, Jack closed his eyes and bowed his head to the man. “Hey, Tony,” he said with a shrug, “you think you can scrounge up one of those Italian sausages?”

  The man behind the cart flashed a grin.

  A wiry-looking guy with copper skin and a crop of silver hair on his head, Tony let out a chuckle. “At ten in the morning?” he said, eyebrows rising. “Kid, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack if you keep this up.”

  Pressing a fist to his mouth, Jack winced and let out a sputtering cough. “You're the one who sells them,” he informed the other man. “I'm just the loyal customer who puts your kids through college.”

  “Isn't that the truth?” Tony looked down to watch the grill. Smoke wafted up to caress his face, but somehow the man ignored it. “Did you hear the latest story on the news?”

  “You mean the one about the cops trying to Sherlock what happened down at the Penworth building?” A wolfish grin bloomed on Jack's face. Squeezing his eyes shut, he barked a laugh. “Yeah, I saw it. Including the part where they interview some guy who claims he saw a big orange laser.”

  “People will believe anything.”

  Tony grabbed a well-cooked sausage with the tongs, then dropped it into a bun. He thrust a hand out, offering it to Jack. “Happy breakfast, my friend,” he went on. “I think you're gonna need it.”

  Chewing on his lip, Jack shut his eyes and tried to ignore the surge of heat in his face. “Don't remind me,” he said, shaking his head. “I'd prefer to avoid the thought of rejection for as long as possible.”

  For the last three months, he had been meeting with an Admissions Official for the University of Ottawa, and each visit to Miss Grimes's office began with a stop at Tony's hot-dog cart. For the last three months, he had been searching for some loophole that would allow him to enter the university's Computer Science program despite his abysmal performance in high school. As time went on, it became less and less likely that his efforts were going to pan out.

  Academics had always been a source of boredom and frustration for Jack; none of his classes throughout high school had been very challenging. So, at the age of fourteen, he had simply stopped paying attention. A bone-headed maneuver – he realized that now – but try talking sense to a fourteen-year-old. Lord knows, his father had tried.

  A year working at menial jobs that came without a bachelor's degree had done wonders for his outlook on life. “Thanks for breakfast, Tony,” Jack mumbled. “They say a little protein goes a long way.”

  He reached into his blue jeans' pocket, pulling out a ten-dollar bill with two fingers and stuffing the money into Tony's tip jar when the man wasn't looking. Jack had a pretty good memory and he recalled the other man mentioning a teenage daughter. She deserved to go to college as much as he did.

  Maybe more so.

  “Maybe you should dress up a little,” Tony said with a wry grin, a touch of colour flaring in his cheeks. “Make a good impression.”

  “Zoot-suit,” Jack teased. “White jacket with sideburns five inches long.”

  The cramped little office that Miss Grimes used to meet with prospective students was sparsely decorated. A wooden desk with chips in its finish sat in the exact centre of the white-tiled floor, bathed in the segmented light that came in through the blinds on the window along the back wall.

  Miss Grimes looked up when Jack came in. Her face was a perfect oval of creamy skin, framed by auburn curls that spilled over her shoulders. “Ah, good, you've made it,” she muttered. “Have a seat.”

  Jack strode into the room.

  He sat down across from her in an old metal chair, with his hands folded in his lap, trying hard to keep his face smooth. “Tell me you have good news,” he said at last. “I've been living in Suspenseville all morning.”

  Hunching over, Miss Grimes planted her elbows on the desk, then rested her chin on laced fingers. “I'm sorry, Jack,” she replied, “I've gone over the admissions guidelines and there's nothing that applies to your case.”

  Her reply hit him like a punch to the abdomen, driving the wind from his lungs. So. There went his chances of getting away from this menial existence. “You know, for future reference,” he said, “this is really the kind of conversation that we can have by telephone. Hell, text messages would be okay.”

  The woman wore a serious expression as she studied him, her eyes trying to bore a hole in his skull. “This is no time for jokes,” she said. “I admit that your test scores are nothing short of excellent, but that doesn't change the fact that your grades are poor.”

  He blushed.

  “I would love to help you, Jack,” she went on in tones that were more than a little patronizing. Though, Jack had to admit that he was hardly an unbiased judge of character at the moment. “But when an admissions officer looks at transcripts like yours, the very first thing he sees is laziness.”

  The standard replies about not judging a kid by mistakes that he made when he was fourteen came to mind, but when Jack considered them, they rang hollow in his ears. “But there has to be a method for appeals,” he offered. “Some way to reverse a mistake that I made when I was too young to know better.”

  “Why sho
uld a school take you? Honestly now.”

  Tilting his head to one side, Jack flashed a wry grin. “Well, you could start with my Zoosk profile,” he said, eyebrows rising. “My page gets over twenty visitors per day, and I have some great head shots.”

  “Another joke.”

  “Well, to be perfectly honest with you, most of them are just the same shot of me against different Photoshopped backgrounds.” He barked a laugh that sounded bitter in his ears. “But 'Jack goes to Mount Rushmore' got fourteen likes on Facebook.”

  “Enough!”

  Miss Grimes leaned back in her chair, folding arms over her chest. She held his gaze. “I've had enough,” she said. “If you refuse to take this seriously, I cannot help you.”

  He stared into his lap for a long moment, wetting his lips and trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. “I'm sorry.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “I'll be on my way.”

  “Jack.”

  When he looked up, Miss Grimes wore a sympathetic expression. “You could try taking some community college courses. It will be difficult since high school students are given priority over those with community college backgrounds, but you could try.”

  “It's good advice, ma'am,” Jack replied. “I'll take it under consideration.” And with that, there was nothing left to say, so he left the office with a heavy heart and a sense of guilt that gnawed at his insides. He shouldn't have been so flippant with the woman; she was only trying to help.

  No, Jack Hunter had gotten himself into this mess – him and nobody else – and it was his burden to bear now. His and no one else's. How exactly was he supposed to tell his sister about this latest setback?

  The hallway on the seventh floor stretched on to a stairwell in the corner, its white-tiled floor dingy and scuffed in many places. Fluorescent lights flickered in the ceiling, giving off a soft hum.

  Leaning against the wall, Jack folded his arms. He tilted his head back, squinting at the ceiling. “You've done it now, boyo,” he muttered to himself. “Despite all odds, you've found yet another way to piss off your betters.”