recognition and connections. Then the man had turned up dead, despite his spotless reputation found naked in a pleasure club booth. His brain had been fried by an overdose of a particularly potent neuro-chimeral.
The next day Hyperion had contacted him to inform him they were pleased to have been able to clear an obstacle for him.
He hadn’t asked for the help, hadn’t wanted it and believed he hadn’t needed it. The aliens, however, apparently hadn’t been inclined to take any chances that his upward trajectory might be slowed. Or perhaps it had been a not-so-subtle way to demonstrate the power they held, even from afar, lest he consider rejecting future overtures.
If so, he had learned a slightly different lesson. He now knew something of what these aliens could do for him.
6
SENECA
C AVARE
----
I SABELA M ARANO TRAILED her mother through the house, surreptitiously straightening furniture and picking up forgotten dishes and trash. It wasn’t a pit as such, merely unkempt. Arguably messy.
Her mother ambled into the kitchen, and her stealth cleaning became more problematic. She hurriedly dropped the dishes in the sink and the trash in the chute while her mother’s back was still turned.
“Why do they keep talking about Caleb on the news, Bela? Is he in trouble?”
“It’s a misunderstanding, Mom. It’ll get cleared up.” A ‘misunderstanding’ involving the death of thousands and the igniting of a powder keg strong enough to blow up the galaxy. She had rarely been so glad the woman was absentminded and only half in the present. If she managed a tiny bit more awareness she’d be hysterical over the world calling her son a mass murderer, likely to such a level as to be unmanageable.
“That’s a relief…” she settled in a chair at the small kitchen table “…how’s Marlee? It’s been forever since I last saw her.”
“You saw her a few weeks ago, remember?”
“Did I? Oh…I suppose I did.” Her mother frowned at the table. “Why isn’t she here now?”
“She’s sleeping over at her friend’s house tonight. I didn’t want to…I didn’t want to disrupt her schedule again so soon.” I didn’t want her to hear her uncle slandered on every news screen. I didn’t want to have to answer her innocent, endless, maddeningly perceptive questions. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Isabela departed the kitchen before receiving a response. She normally exhibited more patience when it came to her mother, normally felt comfortable here in the house she had grown up in. She’d been twelve years old when her father left and held as many memories of the house without him as with him.
But today her mind and attention were elsewhere. The war concerned her; Krysk wasn’t too far from the border region where most of the fighting was taking place. She hated to leave her professorship early, but she refused to risk her daughter’s safety.
Mostly though, she worried about Caleb—what had happened to him, where he had gone, whether he would be cleared of involvement in the bombing or railroaded into prison. Or worse. God knew if there was anyone who could take care of himself just fine, it was him, but this represented a new level of trouble he found himself in.
At least she assumed it represented a new level of trouble. When she’d told him she knew what he did for a living, she might have been overstating the case a tiny bit. She had believed he worked for the government in a secret and dangerous capacity.
Now the entire galaxy knew him as a covert special ops agent for the Senecan Federation Division of Intelligence. With such a job maybe he had been in worse, if less public, trouble before.
The thought chilled her. How many times had she almost lost him and never known?
She ascended the stairs to her old room. She needed to retrieve Marlee’s coat and a pair of shoes left behind in the rush to her next adventure. Caleb said Marlee ‘had spunk’…more like she was hyperkinetic, a
The next day Hyperion had contacted him to inform him they were pleased to have been able to clear an obstacle for him.
He hadn’t asked for the help, hadn’t wanted it and believed he hadn’t needed it. The aliens, however, apparently hadn’t been inclined to take any chances that his upward trajectory might be slowed. Or perhaps it had been a not-so-subtle way to demonstrate the power they held, even from afar, lest he consider rejecting future overtures.
If so, he had learned a slightly different lesson. He now knew something of what these aliens could do for him.
6
SENECA
C AVARE
----
I SABELA M ARANO TRAILED her mother through the house, surreptitiously straightening furniture and picking up forgotten dishes and trash. It wasn’t a pit as such, merely unkempt. Arguably messy.
Her mother ambled into the kitchen, and her stealth cleaning became more problematic. She hurriedly dropped the dishes in the sink and the trash in the chute while her mother’s back was still turned.
“Why do they keep talking about Caleb on the news, Bela? Is he in trouble?”
“It’s a misunderstanding, Mom. It’ll get cleared up.” A ‘misunderstanding’ involving the death of thousands and the igniting of a powder keg strong enough to blow up the galaxy. She had rarely been so glad the woman was absentminded and only half in the present. If she managed a tiny bit more awareness she’d be hysterical over the world calling her son a mass murderer, likely to such a level as to be unmanageable.
“That’s a relief…” she settled in a chair at the small kitchen table “…how’s Marlee? It’s been forever since I last saw her.”
“You saw her a few weeks ago, remember?”
“Did I? Oh…I suppose I did.” Her mother frowned at the table. “Why isn’t she here now?”
“She’s sleeping over at her friend’s house tonight. I didn’t want to…I didn’t want to disrupt her schedule again so soon.” I didn’t want her to hear her uncle slandered on every news screen. I didn’t want to have to answer her innocent, endless, maddeningly perceptive questions. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Isabela departed the kitchen before receiving a response. She normally exhibited more patience when it came to her mother, normally felt comfortable here in the house she had grown up in. She’d been twelve years old when her father left and held as many memories of the house without him as with him.
But today her mind and attention were elsewhere. The war concerned her; Krysk wasn’t too far from the border region where most of the fighting was taking place. She hated to leave her professorship early, but she refused to risk her daughter’s safety.
Mostly though, she worried about Caleb—what had happened to him, where he had gone, whether he would be cleared of involvement in the bombing or railroaded into prison. Or worse. God knew if there was anyone who could take care of himself just fine, it was him, but this represented a new level of trouble he found himself in.
At least she assumed it represented a new level of trouble. When she’d told him she knew what he did for a living, she might have been overstating the case a tiny bit. She had believed he worked for the government in a secret and dangerous capacity.
Now the entire galaxy knew him as a covert special ops agent for the Senecan Federation Division of Intelligence. With such a job maybe he had been in worse, if less public, trouble before.
The thought chilled her. How many times had she almost lost him and never known?
She ascended the stairs to her old room. She needed to retrieve Marlee’s coat and a pair of shoes left behind in the rush to her next adventure. Caleb said Marlee ‘had spunk’…more like she was hyperkinetic, a
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