Allie's War Season One (38 page)

He’d also mentioned casually,

...
Even if you are able to legally change identity, you should know that Sark females like you are not legally sentient to the seers, either. If your race were made public by the Council, I would officially be your owner. And if I forbid it, you cannot consent.

We’d been eating on the balcony, and he paused at this, taking a bite of apple as he waved his hand vaguely.

It can be good for us, for they cannot lie and say you have consented where duress was involved. Providing you trust me with this, of course.

I’d stared at that particular mouthful, not sure where to begin.

“Not sentient?” I said. “As in lacks sentience?”

He’d shrugged. “It is a legal fiction, to require ownership.”

“But why females, exactly?” I’d said.

“Not females,” he said, looking at me.
You misunderstand. These laws are to control seers with telekinetic powers.

That took me another few seconds to process. Even so, I had to admit it made sense, given the Syrimne thing.

Finally, I shrugged. “So I’m a different race now?”

Revik had startled me, gesturing in the affirmative.

“Well,” he amended, glancing at my expression. “Not really...your blood is somewhat different, but other seers have this genetic anomaly who are not telekinetic. You can reproduce with us...as far as I know.”

He hesitated, looking up at me where I stood by the balcony. He seemed to pick up on the fact that I knew he wasn’t telling me something.

He added,
Telekinesis is believed to be at least partly genetic...so with females it could potentially be passed to offspring. It makes you very valuable, Alyson, and in a way that is more real to those who may not care about your significance as the Bridge. It is unclear to me how superstitious some of the higher ranking Rooks are. Although it is believed that Galaith himself is religious...

“Galaith? That’s their leader, right?”

“Yes.” At my continued stare, his colorless eyes had grown impatient. “You must have known they would have recorded what you did in the diner...with Jon. You have no one to blame but yourself, Allie.”

But I’d been remembering something else. The bridge over Lake Washington. The way the guardrail seemed to fold into itself just before we hit. It occurred to me that I must have done that, too...and that the Rooks chasing us must have seen me do it.

When I glanced at him next, Revik’s stare had grown irritated once more. More than that, I got a flavor of angry puzzlement underneath.

“Allie,” he said. “You should not have done that...not while they had access to your light. That was extremely foolish.”

“Excuse me,” I said, giving an outraged laugh. “I believe I saved your ass during that little screw up...
Dehgoies.”

“Never do it again,” he said. The anger grew more prominent in his eyes. “Not for me or anyone else. I mean it, Allie.”

Feeling my anger turn real, he clicked at me sharply.

...Whatever story the human media gives, be sure that if the Rooks know you are telekinetic, then SCARB knows what you are, as well. Even if we change your identity to the humans, the seers will want assurances that you will remain docile. And some will want to breed you...consensually or not.

“Docile?” I said, barely containing my fury.
“Breed
me?”

Focusing back on his food, Revik shrugged, rearranging a cloth napkin on his lap as he looked out over the sunlit ocean.

“We’ll deal with it when we have to. You have protection for now. Vash will do his best...as will I.” He didn’t look up from where he was cutting a piece of meat.

“I won’t leave you in a bad position,” he added, gruff. “And I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful. I’m not. I just don’t understand how you can do these things, Allie...or why you don’t seem to understand how serious it is.”

I thought about pursuing that, as well. But at his warning look, I left off.

Sometimes our minds were way too entwined.

Now we stood in a cluster of virtual stars, and he’d promised to take me somewhere.

In Revik-world, this was probably the closest to a date I’d get.

“Where first?” I said in Prexci.

“Balixe,” he said. “It is a seer city.”

Balixe means water in the seer tongue...
my mind recited.

“Yes.” Surprise wafted off him.
You know of it?

“Only by name,” I joked. At his flat look, I sighed, thinking loudly that I’d watched a history program on ancient seer culture in one of the vids he’d given me. In that particular program, it said Balixe housed the ruins of the last Elaerian city.

Revik nodded. “That is correct.”

“I know,” I said. I tugged on his shirt. “Can we go?”

He caught hold of my wrist. I barely had time to take a breath when...

...I’M NOT BREATHING.

A horizon forms as I watch, framed by distant mountains, and I see currents, streams of swift-moving lights of all colors pertaining to dark. The currents flow like water or liquid starlight, level after level, hundreds of miles above and below where I am, and once again, I am forced to fight feelings of insignificance, of being swallowed in the vastness of how little everything about me truly matters.

Beauty overcomes those feelings of smallness, however. Dark clouds hang heavy in the distance, shot through with even more subtle frequencies of light, making me long for a sunrise, for stronger beams of illumination in the churning aliveness of the night.

Then I am looking at him, and I forget all the rest.

Geometrical patterns flow around Revik’s hyper-detailed form, sparking out in small, colorful arcs of current and light. I reach out, touching one of the shapes, and from his reaction, it isn’t dissimilar to poking him in the eye.

Cut it out,
he says.
Look for the track, Allie.

At my blank reaction, he sighs, sending up more plumes of light and feeling.

You know the theory,
he says, patient now, if barely.
If you don’t know the thing you want to resonate with, find another way in...

When my confusion doesn’t lessen, he prods me again.

There are three ways seers track, Allie. The first is imprinting...it is what I am doing now, using an imprint given to me by Vash.

He flashes a multi-dimensional image, too quick for me to take in.

...I could also use a personal object, audio or visual recording, blood, fingerprints, urine, hair, even a smell...all of these are imprints. Imprinting is the most common track, as imprints are everywhere. Imprinting is the reason for the image ban, Allie...and the ban on trade in biological artifacts...

...The second way is location track,
he continues evenly.
This is based on the principles of spatial intersection. In simple terms, if you know the location of something in the physical realm, you can track it in the Barrier. To do so, however, your knowledge must be very precise. It also does not work so well for time jumps, or Barrier echoes...

I have no idea what these are.

The third way,
he says, ignoring my implicit question.
Is a line track. It denotes having a personal connection with, or “direct line” to the thing you are tracking. Or in this case, something that is resonating with the thing you are tracking...which is me.

He waits for me to follow this train of thought.

Use the opportunity to feel me under a track, Allie.

I am following his logic now. If I resonate with him, and he resonates with the target, I will resonate with the target, too. Simple.

I focus on a current of light I don’t recognize in one of his hands. The vibration immediately changes my own.

...Resonance does not have a spatial or interconnectivity limit,
he adds as I play with his light.
If you resonate with something that resonates with something that resonates with something...you can track any part of the chain. Distance can muddle the imprint, but it doesn’t have to.
The military, of necessity, depends mainly on secondary or tertiary links...sometimes those of much greater distances from the target. Most of the work of infiltration is this. Uncovering lines or “taps,” which can be complex...even tedious. Infiltrating the target’s life, hunting them to get close to their light...

I am fascinated, picking up images from him.

You still do this?
Professionally?

Yes,
he sends.

For who?

His light sparks in irritation.
Try to match my light...or go back and wait for me in the room, Allie.

Touchy, touchy,
I send softly.

But I am trying to do what he says, so his thoughts grow slightly less grumpy.

When you track, it is better if the target does not feel you,
he advises. He waits for me to adjust, based on his words. When I don’t, he sighs again.
This is not subtle, Allie. If I were a target, I would know I was being tapped.

I heard you. Just let me get the hang of it, okay?

He gives in, letting me openly examine his light.

He is cranky today, though. I have no idea if it has anything to do with me, but I decide to do as he says...until I am distracted again by the mechanics of our lights’ interaction. My aleimi really wants to resonate with his. It is less a matter of trying, more a matter of letting it. So I relax, unfurling a fist that I hadn’t known I clenched. My vibration changes.

I feel Revik’s approval.

Good,
he sends.

He is closer to me now, and suddenly I am fighting the other thing. The pulling-nausea-pain feeling I get around him is stronger without my body, carries more of an imperative. It occurs to me that pain is likely how my body translates that imperative, like converting electrical signals...then it occurs to me that I’m embarrassed, trying to make it scientific.

Revik politely withdraws his light.

Are you ready?
he sends.

I consider, for the hundredth or so time, asking him about that pull, then decide to leave it for when he’s in a better mood.

I let him feel that I am. Ready, that is.

He releases whatever he uses to keep us in place and we shoot across the night sky. There are no vortices this time, and the movement from one place to the next happens fast, almost instantaneously, without a breath between states.

A city bursts out of the dark.

Its many windows reflect the morning rays of a bloated sun peeking over the horizon. I recognize the skyline from my dreams. I see the jagged steel and glass squares sticking out of the ground, the older city beside them, the dense layer of smog over the honking cars and bicycles and auto-rickshaws on the street. People walk down the sidewalk in ragged patterns and stand by coffee shops and older-looking buildings with red and gold facades. I see flickers of the city from all sides...from the ground to a vantage point somewhere in the clouds.

I am afraid, focusing on the enormous metal and glass squares looming out of the dust of a predawn sky, the watery structure squatting closer to the ground.

I see more cars and bicycles and the light brightens, when...