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From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed By Fire - Part 0/18
Date: 18 Feb 2004 18:59:18 +0000 (GMT)


Kindred Spirits - Consumed by Fire
By Elizabeth Stanway

Part 0

Synopsis: The Tomorrow People face their worst setback to date in their
struggle for survival.

This is the fourth story in the Kindred Spirits sequence.  Recommended
reading order is:
1) Kindred Spirits - Two Aims, One Destination
2) Kindred Spirits - Double Bluff
3) Kindred Spirits - Slipping the Net
4) Kindred Spirits - Consumed by Fire

This story is based on the television series 'The Tomorrow People' created
by Roger Price and owned by Thames Television/Freemantle Media. It also
features original characters and situations created by, and the
intellectual property of, Jackie Clark and Elizabeth Stanway, October
2003.

Many thanks to Anyta for her perseverance and attention to detail in
beta-ing this story and to Jackie for helping to shape this story and for
letting me share her visions of the future.

Elizabeth

____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 1/18
Date: 18 Feb 2004 19:00:27 +0000 (GMT)


Part One

The Lab, Toronto, Canada
3.45 am Eastern Daylight Time, October 1st 2019


"Toronto Lab compromised!  Toronto Lab under attack!"

Abigail's voice was urgent as she spoke both telepathically and verbally.
The link table under her fingertips amplified her thoughts for Tomorrow
People all over the world to hear, while the inter-Lab radio in its centre
would alert anyone asleep or too tightly shielded to hear the mental
alarm.

"All local Labs - evacuate! You are no longer secure.  All major Labs -
caution! You may be at risk."

A distant explosion made the table tremble under Abby's hands and she felt
the fear from the three other people in the link with her, but forced
herself to give the warning clearly one more time.

"Repeat! The Toronto Lab is under attack! All local Labs evacuate! Local
Tomorrow People - do not attempt to return to the Lab! If you can get
away, do!"

Another explosion rocked the link table and Abby surrendered to the
inevitable.  Breaking the link, she looked around at the three Tomorrow
People who had stayed to help her get the warning out. Their faces were
white with fear, and with good reason. Only a few tens of the thousand or
more Tomorrow People who lived in this Lab had been awake when all this
had started.  Most of those had fled or gone to help rouse the others.
Perhaps these three were the only other people left in the complex. Abby
wished it could be so, but she knew that was too much to hope for.

"Get out of here!" Abigail ordered her friends, without hesitation.
"You've all got false IDs ready - get out there and use them! All of you
are too closely connected to the Lab.  These people will know who you
are." Her eyes scanned each face quickly, imprinting them all on her
memory, before her gaze shifted back to the security monitors that covered
an entire wall of the Lab. Across half the wall, hordes of black-clad
raiders were visible amid packing crates and equipment, or in front of
metal walls. Several monitors around the Lab's main ground entrance, blown
out by the explosions, showed only static.

"But Abby..." The protest was half-hearted, but full of helpless
frustration.

"There's nothing more you can do here," Abby said simply, not turning
back. "Go!"

She felt them jaunt out, but already her mind was concentrated on her next
task, focusing on the details because thinking about the big picture would
leave her cowering and trembling in a corner.

*****

"You ought to go too, Abby." The voice was deep, rich and sad. Her hands
flying over the nearest computer console, Abby didn't spare the time to
glance up at the hemispherical devices that hung from the Lab's ceiling.
She knew without looking that they would be lit with TIM's presence.

"I'm not going while there's still time to help some of our people, TIM!
We have explosives in the outer tunnels. If I can seal those there might
be time to get false IDs out to more of us." Abby spoke frantically.
"There might be time to get everyone woken up and out of the Lab.  There
were a thousand people asleep down here, TIM. Half the people still in the
Lab probably don't even know we're under attack - the first thing these
raiders knocked out was our internal alarm system. If the intruders
haven't got in from the warehouse up top yet, there's still time ...."

"Abby, look at the monitors!" TIM's voice was sharp and Abby obeyed the
order automatically. The black-clad figures were visible in metal-lined
corridors now, proceeding amidst thin clouds of some airborne powder.

"No!" she whispered softly.

"They're already in the outer parts of your Lab, Abby.  If those corridors
are collapsed now people are going to die and neither you nor I would
press that trigger, even if we could." The biotronic computer's voice was
urgent but quiet, trying to talk reason into the co-ordinator watching her
Lab crumbling around her. "They are using aerosols of Barlumin, Abby,
trapping anyone who can't jaunt in time. You must leave immediately. The
intruders are already in the top level of dormitories. You cannot be here
when they get down to this room.  You know too much, Abigail."

"Marc." Abby's lips formed the name silently, but TIM pounced on it.

"Where is Marc, Abby?" he asked immediately, aware that if her fellow
co-ordinator fell victim to Sap interrogation then the lives of thousands
of Tomorrow People were at risk.

"Trying to get the kids out of the dormitories!" Abby steadied herself
against the computer console as another explosion sent a tremor through
the floor. Her eyes were scanning the security feeds urgently for any
sight of him. TIM was ahead of her. An image of Marc, his arms around the
shoulders of two sleepy-looking children, appeared on the central monitor.
Abby knew at a glance that he was ill - his face was pale and his
movements unsteady.

"I have to go there!" Abby snapped, moving her hands to her jaunting belt
without a second thought.

"Wait!" Ever-calm TIM shouted the word, cutting through her panic,
stopping her in her tracks. "The London Lab is under attack, Abby. So are
Labs in Melbourne and Chicago.  Three of your local Labs are being
assaulted.  And Toronto is being hit harder than any of them.  We have
never experienced such a serious breach of Lab security - the Saps must
have been planning this worldwide assault for months and it is focused
here in Canada. If you go to Marc now, Abby, the Barlumin will affect you
too and who will be left to bring the Canadian Tomorrow People back from
all this?"

Abby knew that she must look as pale and frightened as Marc appeared
on-screen. As she watched and hesitated, the black-clad men burst into the
dormitory in the wake of their aerosol grenade and it was already too
late. She had been appointed to lead these people and she knew her duty.

"They're hitting us because we're the ones who let this happen," she told
herself harshly before raising her voice.  "Get out of here, TIM!"


"What are you going to do, Abigail?"

Abby smiled a wan smile and tried to force the image of Marc and those two
children from her mind.

"The only thing left. I've got to blow this room.  If they get into the
control room of a major lab...." She shook her head sharply. "I can't let
that happen. I'm going to overload your local inputs."

*****

"Critical overload!" The recorded voice repeated the words over and over
again.  Usually it would sound throughout the entire Lab, but with the
internal alarm system gone, no one outside the room would even suspect
that the focal point of the complex was about to become a furnace.

Abby scanned the monitors one last time.  More of them were blank now. She
had lost track of Marc in the confusion, despite her efforts to relocate
him. A few monitors showed Tomorrow People, dizzy and ill from the effects
of Barlumin poisoning, being herded into groups.  Many of them were
children, forced to move into the Lab when frightened parents disowned
them and drove them from their homes. They had thought that they were the
lucky ones who had reached safety.  Abby had thought so too, until now.

"Explosion imminent!" the recorded voice warned.

Abby dragged her mind back to her final task. The intruders were on this
level now, just two corridors away from the central common area. If this
room didn't blow soon it was going to be too late. There was only one
thing left that she could do to add to the signal in TIM's local sensors.
She would have to judge this just right. It would be difficult to tear
herself free, but if she jaunted away too early, facing these dangers
would all be for nothing.

Slowly, Abigail placed her hands on the link table in front of her.
Reaching deep inside, she felt the power build-up in the Lab's system
through the telepathic booster in the table. And then she began to pour
her own mental energy into the storm.

The raw power confined in the abused circuitry and systems burst free in
an incandescent fireball. Consumed by fire, the central room of the
Toronto Lab would no longer be a threat to Labs the world over. Whatever
happened to the Tomorrow People in Canada now, at least others would be
safe.


End of Part One

____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 2/18
Date: 18 Feb 2004 19:02:12 +0000 (GMT)


Part Two

The Lab, Toronto - 3.15 am EDT : Half an Hour Earlier


"Do you know what the time is?" Abby called the question good-humouredly
to the small group on the other side of the Lab's large central room.
"Turn the music down!"

"Do you know what the time is?" one of the Lab's more active members, Don,
returned without missing a beat. "Stop working!"

Marc chuckled loudly and both Don and Abby fixed him with reproachful
looks.

"I'm talking to you too, Marc," Don pointed out. "I mean, I know you and
Abby have a lot to do but, still, working into the small hours of the
morning...?"

Marc shrugged and exchanged wryly-amused looks with Abby.

"A lot to do, as you say, mon ami," Abby's fellow co-ordinator pointed out
in his soft French-Canadian accent. "We've got a business to run. Not to
mention more new breakouts in a day than I have fingers to count them
with."

"You wouldn't think so, if you believed some of what the news reports say
about us." Don's expression turned into a frown and smiles around the room
faded as the humour drained away. "If you believed them, then we would all
be bizarre mutations, ten feet tall with 10 fingers on each hand."

Abby spoke softly, reassuringly, to all nine of the Tomorrow People still
in the room. Perhaps there were others awake in the other common rooms of
the Lab, but here in the main room it felt as if they were the only people
still awake in the entire world.

"But we don't believe them, Don. We know better.  And so do most of the
Saps out there, even if they are too scared to admit it."

*****

No one knew quite what to say after that.  It was ironic that the Saps
would never know how closely their terror of the next stage of human
evolution was mirrored by the fear of Saps that haunted the Tomorrow
People. As long as the Saps remained in the majority, the Tomorrow People
would remain a hounded and persecuted group, ever in fear of lynch mobs or
secret service attack.  Of course, nearly ten years after the Mass
Breakout began, and with the rate of new breakouts ever increasing, just
how long that would remain the case was still an open question.

In the meantime, all the Tomorrow People could do was keep a low profile
and a tight cover. Which, of course, was why Abby and Marc were still
awake in the early hours of the morning. Trying to assess the new
breakouts was enough of a task, without doing so in parallel with running
their shipping business, which provided cover for the subterranean Lab in
the form of an aboveground warehouse.  While Don and his friends turned
down their music and returned to their chatting on the other side of the
Lab, Abigail sighed.

"Where were we?"

"Getting nowhere." Marc's sigh was an unconscious echo of her own. He
looked at her with concern in his dark eyes. "Don's right about one thing.
It's late, ma ch=E8re, and you look tired.  Perhaps we should finish this i=
n
the morning?"

Abby shook her head firmly. "We have to get this finished tonight,
otherwise we'll fall further behind tomorrow night and sooner or later
this Lab will just collapse! Had we finished going through the warehouse
manifest?"

"Indeed, ma ch=E8re," Marc agreed, leaning forward to study the paperwork
spread over the link table in front of them. "We had moved on to talking
about today's new breakouts."

"Eleven in one day. All able to jaunt." Abby couldn't stop the smile from
appearing on her face. "And that's in the Toronto area alone. We're
getting there, Marc."

"But slowly, Abby, far too slowly." Marc sighed and lifted a report off
the link table.  "Eight of these are school-age children, and of them,
seven have drawn so much attention to themselves that I think we're going
to have to resettle them at new schools."

"More paperwork." Abby frowned. "We can't go on creating new identities at
this rate.  Even our replicas aren't always perfect, and sooner or later
we're going to make a serious mistake and be caught at it."

"But in the meantime.... What choice do we have, ma ch=E8re?" Marc's face
became bleak. "Today though, we only need two identities.  The families of
six of the children do not wish to see them again. Two have been settled
down here.  The remaining four are staying at their nearest local Labs."

"Do we have room for them in the Lab schools?" Abigail asked in a flat
tone, running a hand wearily over her face.

"We shall have to make room, ma ch=E8re. New children without families will
raise suspicion almost anywhere else we try to send them."

"And we daren't risk that until they're completely in control of their
special abilities.  I know, Marc, I know. All right, I'll handle the
paperwork first thing tomorrow. What about the adult breakouts?"

"Two college students, one shop assistant.  All three managed to break out
quietly.  They will be fine with a little training."

"Training, yes." Abby considered the list of breakouts. "We'll need to get
to know them and assign them to the appropriate mentors. I'll talk to six,
if you'll take the other five.  We can take them out for a jaunting lesson
in the morning."

(And implant the passphrase while we're about it,) Marc added
telepathically, with a glance in the direction of Don's group to make sure
he wasn't overheard. "They all managed the jaunt to their nearest Lab well
enough, so it shouldn't be too much of a chore," he went on aloud before
the pause would be noticeable. He flicked through the paperwork on the
link table once again. "Well, is that all for this evening?"

Abby leaned back in her seat and a frown spread across her face.

"All except one thing: Thomas."

Marc gave her a questioning look.

"He was crying again this afternoon and I still can't quite get to the
bottom of what's so wrong. It's three weeks since he broke out, Marc, and
he's still not used to the idea of being a Tomorrow Person." The
helplessness she felt seemed to come through with every word.

Marc touched Abigail's mind briefly with reassurance, but his own thoughts
were troubled.  The eleven-year-old Thomas had been one of those rare
children who have always shown some telepathic talent.  As such, the shock
and horror in his mind when Abby had helped him through the final stages
of breakout had been both surprising and confusing.  Surely he must have
anticipated that, one day, he would join them? The boy had broken out at
night, woken from a terrifying nightmare to find his mind swamped with the
millions of voices of Homo superior.  It had been mere chance that
Abigail, walking past the link table at that moment, had heard his first
cry, but that chance had inspired a special interest in the child from
both Abby and Marc.

"Il a l'air tourment=E9," Marc said slowly. "I do not understand why he has
such a problem with getting used to the idea of being one of us.  His
telepathy is better trained than many of the children who broke out a year
or more ago!  I cannot get the expression on his face out of my mind - his
expression when you guided him through breakout and his first jaunt to the
Lab, ma ch=E8re. I have never seen another child appear more horrified to
learn he is one of us."

"The Saps have been poisoning the minds of these children since they were
little more than babies." Abby shook her head sadly. "We're losing more
through panic when they break out than ever before." She paused. "I did
manage to get a little out of Thomas today about his background."

"And that's been a struggle, certainly." Marc raised an eyebrow in query.

"He's only been here a couple of years, Marc. He told me that he used to
live in Britain, not Canada.  That explains the strange twang in his
accent and why we didn't find any record of his birth, too. He wouldn't
tell me whether he's told his parents that he's a Tomorrow Person yet. He
just changed the subject.  Given how strongly he begged us not to approach
them.... I would be happier talking to them, but they must have known how
telepathic he was. Perhaps they won't see any difference now. "

"Have you asked the London Lab to look into his records for us?" Marc
asked thoughtfully. Abby shrugged non-committally. Marc knew as well as
she did how matters stood in the overworked London headquarters of the
Tomorrow People.

"I was going to put it in the next report we send.  Everyone I know over
there is too busy to check on one boy - no matter how out of place he
seems."

"Aren't we all, ma ch=E8re? There's always - "

(Marc!) Abby's thought cracked across Marc's mind like a whip, stopping
his sentence in mid-flow and drawing his attention to the pale child who
had jaunted into the Lab's main room just a metre away from them.

"Thomas - " Abby's tone was gently scolding - "why are you out of bed at
this time of night? Aren't your parents going to miss you?"

Thomas looked at them both with wide blue eyes and an unreadable
expression.

"They might, but they're very busy. I heard you thinking about me. I know
you both really care. I ... I wanted to say sorry."

Abby and Marc exchanged chagrined looks, both rapidly reinforcing their
mental defences. They couldn't possibly have anticipated that the subject
of their thoughts would be awake and receptive at that time of night.

"Sorry for what, Thomas?" Marc asked gently.

"I'm sorry I can't believe what you've been trying to tell me." The boy
was frowning, his face troubled. "All my life I've been told that the
Tomorrow People are wrong.  My parents said ... they said that the world
belongs to ordinary people, to normal people."

"A lot of Saps think that, Thomas," Abby told him carefully, aware that
the group on the other side of the common room was listening too now. "But
we're the next stage of human evolution.  Sooner or later the Saps will
realise that they are going to have to share the world with us.  Sooner or
later all the Saps will be like us."

"No." Thomas was shaking his head with the confident disbelief of an
eleven-year-old boy. "You're wrong, Abby. We're a mutation, an aberration.
We're polluting the gene pool."

Abby tried to hide the shock from her face. She felt Marc's horror too and
his anger at the self-loathing they could both hear in Thomas's voice.

"Is that what your parents told you?" Marc asked in an artificially calm
voice that did little to hide his fury. Abby laid a hand on his arm to
comfort him, even as she tried to project comfort to the troubled child
before them.

"It's the truth," Thomas told them simply. "Just because I turn out to be
one of you doesn't stop it being true."

Abby moved forward in her chair as if to take Thomas into her arms, but
the boy shied away.

"People used to tell me that when I was older I could fight against you."
Thomas seemed to be willing them to understand. He seemed consumed by his
fervour and the words poured out of him in a torrent. "Before they sent me
away from the others, I was the strongest telepath and that was useful.  I
was the oldest - that's why they called me Thomas. They used to tell me
that I would help save the world from you.  But they never expected me to
break out. It took me a long time to work it all out. I...I didn't know
what to do, Abby." The boy was looking at her directly now and there were
unshed tears in his eyes, but he went on before she could frame any kind
of response. "But I know now."

Thomas took a step forward and hugged her quickly, running a hand over her
hair before doing the same to Marc. The man was startled, but
instinctively hugged him back before releasing the boy to stand once more
in front of them.

"You've both been really kind, but you're wrong and that's why I'm sorry."

"Thomas - " Abby's throat was dry with surprise and a sudden foreboding -
"what have you done?"

"What I was made to do," Thomas said simply. He rested his hands on his
jaunting belt and gave them a tearful look. "You know - Operation
Malthus."

*****

Thomas jaunted before either Abby or Marc could seize him. Both the joint
co-ordinators of the Canadian Tomorrow People leapt from their seats and
into action, their faces grey with horror.

(We've got to evacuate the Lab.) Marc's thought was loud enough to bring
everyone else in the room to their feet in surprise. He typed a few quick
commands into the Lab's security console, but neither he nor Abby was
surprised that there was no response.  There had been three long weeks for
Thomas to work his sabotage.

The first tremor rocked the Lab before anyone else could move.

Already it was too late.


End of Part Two
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A =3D X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed By Fire - Part 3/18
Date: 18 Feb 2004 19:04:21 +0000 (GMT)


Part Three

Thomson Memorial Park, Toronto - 6am EDT


It ought to be raining.

The thought crossed Abby's mind as much to fill the void left by her
shocked numbness as because she felt it to be true. On a day like this,
when a hundred thousand people were crying in shock and pain, the sky
should be crying with them.  Instead the autumn morning was cool and
crisp, the dawn light just beginning to flush the sky. Only a distant hint
of smoke on the wind marred the idyllic scene.

Abby's first sequence of random jaunts had taken her fifteen miles away
from the Lab and across the city. She had barely made the first of them in
time.  With her mind in contact with the link table's boosters, she had
felt the thoughts of everyone trapped in the Lab and the fears of the
thousands of Tomorrow People outside who had woken to find their world
falling apart. For a moment, just a moment, she had been tempted not even
to try to jaunt away.

In the end though, she had fled the fire even as it ignited, not stopping
to think or breathe until she had jaunted three times in quick succession.
With each jaunt she had been aware of noise and chaos, of mobs of people
on streets that should have been empty in the small hours. Toronto was
like an upturned molehill and only in the solitude of one of the city's
parks could she even begin to regain her balance. Now, as she walked in
circles, round and round on the gravel paths, Abigail tried to work out
what she could do next. Her people were scattered and on the run and
something told her that trying to gather them together again so soon would
be the worst possible move. Again and again the scenes played through in
her mind. The quiet evening with Marc, Thomas speaking with the conviction
of a brainwashed child, Marc with a child in each arm, and all of them
looking frightened and ill... And almost as often as that last image, one
of Thomas hugging Marc and Abby herself.  Thomas was not a tactile person.
That embrace somehow seemed to have been the moment the wrongness took
over the world.

(Subject is in Thomson Park - tracking.)

The thought came out of nowhere, as loud and clear to Abby as a voice by
her ear.   In the same instant, she jaunted.

*****

A bug, Abigail realised as she emerged from hyperspace into a lonely back
street in the suburbs of Toronto. I've been bugged.

There was no other explanation for how a telepathic Sap could have tracked
her down so quickly.  In common with every other Tomorrow Person in
Toronto, Abby's mental defences were rock solid, hiding her from the Sap
agents who had attacked the Lab. Even TIM couldn't have tracked her by
thought alone. She longed to call out to him, to all of her friends, but
TIM had spoken of the London Lab being attacked and Toronto was almost
certainly crawling with telepathic Sap agents. All she could do was lock
her mind down tight and wait out this trial.

No, she thought, telepathy hadn't brought her tracker onto her tail -
there had to be a bug on her somewhere. It would be a homing device as
well as an audio bug. And it would be small, probably little more than
microscopic. The image of Thomas hugging her, running a hand over her hair
and clothes, flashed through her mind once again, but now, for the first
time, it made sense. The child had planted a bugging device on her and she
hadn't suspected a thing.

Of course. Abby watched the sequence of memories march past her mind's eye
once more. Thomas had bugged Marc too, and the intruders had headed
straight for the upper dormitories where Marc had been. Abby felt her
heart clench with a poisonous mixture of bitterness and anxiety. Now the
Saps had him. If he were even alive.

"He has to be alive!" She shook her head, angry with herself for giving in
to despair so easily. "They all are!"

It was quiet in Abby's head now - far too quiet after the traumatic events
of the night.  Undoubtedly, there was panic in the air; undoubtedly there
was grief. But there was also a gaping emptiness where there should have
been the distant murmur of voices. Abby hadn't dared call any of her
closest friends or assistants in the Lab directly.  Even before the
realisation that she was being tracked, she had known that trying to touch
anyone telepathically would make them both beacons to any Sap telepath.
Nonetheless, she longed to discover the full extent of the disaster as
much as she dreaded learning it. If Abigail were any judge, thousands of
people were missing from the telepathic background, and she could feel
their absence more strongly than she had ever felt their presence.  Never
had she dreamed that she would pray her people had been captured.

And now she didn't even have time to stop and catch her breath. Eventually
she'd get all this figured out; she'd get rid of the bug and would be able
to do something to really help her people, but for now she just had to
keep moving. If she were being tracked, she couldn't risk jaunting to any
of the local Labs that had looked to Toronto for guidance.  She couldn't
risk a mental call to any other Tomorrow Person. And she couldn't just
stop and do nothing either, or the government agents would close in on
her. Sooner or later they'd lose patience with her silent refusal to
interact with any of the others.  They'd seize her. And, as TIM had told
her, she knew far too much to ever let that happen.


End of Part Three

____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 4/18
Date: 19 Feb 2004 20:04:28 +0000 (GMT)


Part Four

Headquarters, London Tomorrow People - 6am EDT (11am Local Time)


John let himself sink wearily into a chair and then shuffled around,
trying to make himself comfortable.  The room, the chair, the link tables
- all were identical in every detail to those he had been forced to
leave behind and yet, in his mind, they just didn't feel the same.

The room was quiet for the moment, as if the eye of the hurricane were
even now passing over them.  The jaunting pad, which had been humming all
day with new arrivals, was temporarily silent. Elsewhere in the complex,
John could both hear and feel the minds of thousands of people trying to
make sense of the way their lives had just been turned upside down.  The
London Tomorrow People would adjust, of course.  After all, this wasn't
the first time they had been forced to abandon their home and move on.  It
was just that last time there had been so few of them, while this time
there were so many!

Abandoning his attempt to find a comfortable position in which to arrange
his aching limbs, John glanced upwards at the gently glowing hemispheres
suspended amidst the tubing on the room's ceiling.

"Are you all right, TIM?"

The lights gave a slight pulse of affirmation, but the biotronic
computer's voice was weary as he responded.  "I am fine, John. I merely
require a short time to adjust to the transition. The relocation of my
major thought processors is always somewhat ... traumatic, as I believe
you know."

"I know, TIM." John's voice was regretful. "I wouldn't have forced you to
do it if - "

"You had no choice, John," TIM interrupted firmly. "Indeed, it was
fortunate that this facility was already prepared and ready to receive
us."

John nodded unhappily.

"Mike's team have done a wonderful job with this place - it can't have
been easy." He rubbed the back of his neck to try to relieve some of the
tension there.  It had already been a long day and it was not yet half
over. "Is everyone accounted for?" he asked, aware of the tingle as yet
another person jaunted in to the room, but ignoring it.

"All residents of the London Lab and most of our more prominent
non-resident members have checked in safely, John," TIM assured him at
once. "There were a number of disturbances across the British Isles, aimed
at individual Tomorrow People who have aroused the suspicion of the
Government or their neighbours in the past, but none of our local Labs
have come under direct attack. We were able to fully evacuate the London
Lab well before its defences were breached." TIM paused solemnly. "We have
been lucky."

"Luck had very little to do with it." Stephen's voice was angry as he
stepped down from the jaunting pad.  As head of the Lab's security unit,
Stephen had been worked harder than most today, trying to cloud the minds
of the telepathic Saps in London as the other Tomorrow People jaunted to
safety. Even as recently as five years ago, the idea of a Lab security
unit would have been strange and a little disturbing, but the opening
salvoes of this silent war had taught the Tomorrow People that they could
only follow their pacifist instincts so far. After the trials of the
morning, John was simply grateful that they had been prepared for this
attack.  He gave his old friend a nod of acknowledgment and waved for
Stephen to sit down.  The other man ignored him, pacing backwards and
forwards around the room in a futile attempt to work off his excess
energy. "We didn't even realise the Lab was surrounded until Abby put us
on the alert."

"I was about to ask," observed John, "what actually happened in Toronto,
TIM? Were Marc and Abigail able to evacuate their people in safety?"

The pause before TIM's answer was enough to alarm both of the senior
Tomorrow People.

"I fear not, John."

"Go on," John told him grimly.

"The Toronto Lab was completely overrun and its control room destroyed,
John. There were other Labs attacked this morning, and I have offered
assistance where I could while giving the Lab leaders our new location,
but Toronto has borne the brunt of this assault - six of their local Labs
were also raided.  I believe Marc was captured, together with a
significant number of the Canadian Tomorrow People."

"Marc's been captured?" Stephen repeated in stunned disbelief.

"Why didn't you tell us this before, TIM?" John asked angrily, coming to
his feet and striding over to the nearest link table.

"May I remind you, John - " TIM's usually calm voice had an edge to it now
- "that our resources have been fully committed to the relocation of the
London Lab since the moment we were alerted to the problem. It is only in
the past few minutes that it has been possible to stop and review the
situation elsewhere.  The Toronto Lab, like the others, was assaulted with
large quantities of Barlumin and its derivatives. Informing you of the
situation any earlier would not have allowed you to take any additional
action."


John gave TIM an angry look and then focused his mind on the link table,
extending that focus when he felt Stephen move up beside him to help.

(Abigail?) he called sharply. (Abby, report!)

There was only silence in response.

"If there are as many Sap telepaths around over there as there are in
London, she's probably shielding too hard to even hear us calling,"
Stephen suggested, frowning.

"I very much hope that is the case." TIM spoke quietly, aware of the
anxiety that both John and Stephen were trying to hide. This was not easy
for either of them. They'd both seen a lot of potential in the young
Canadian co-ordinators, allowing themselves to feel a much closer
connection to Abby and Marc than to most of the other Lab leaders.

John felt his mouth go dry at TIM's tone.

"What is it, TIM?"

"I am not certain that Abby was able to jaunt away in time from the
explosion of the Lab's control room."

"She must have done!" The Canadian-accented voice came from the jaunting
pad and John frowned at the two newest arrivals as they stepped down from
it.  "She can't be dead!" The man who had spoken was unfamiliar, but John
and Stephen both recognised the other as head of the Florida Lab.  John
raised an eyebrow in query.  Ever since relations with the Saps had
worsened, it was rare for anyone, even Lab leaders, to jaunt between Labs.
He hadn't expected even those leaders privy to the new location of the
London Lab to make use of that knowledge.

"John, Stephen." The American nodded a greeting and his Canadian companion
seemed momentarily taken aback to find himself in the presence of such
illustrious figures. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy and this is a security
risk but ... " The man hesitated. "Well, I've had fifty-odd Canadians
jaunting in this morning and Don here ... Well, he said something about
Operation Malthus!"

"Malthus!" Stephen exclaimed, dark memories clouding his eyes.

"Sure, that's what the kid said." Don ran a hand through his disordered
hair and looked about him with wild eyes. "Look, I don't know what all
this is about, but my home's just been wiped out and I don't have a clue
what's happened to Abby and Marc, and it was all because of that kid!"

John and Stephen exchanged shocked and anxious looks.

"Stephen, I know our agents are tired, but I want everyone capable of
taking care of themselves out there trying to find out what's happened,"
John ordered. He went on before Stephen could do more than nod an
acknowledgment. "TIM, how many other Labs were attacked?"

"Too many, John, far too many. I am now checking those regions not
answering calls. Most merely appear to be deserted, but I am unable to
access my remote stations in an alarming number of them. With the world's
Tomorrow People shielding too high to hear faint and distant telepathic
calls, I believe it may be necessary to send out people to each location
to try and get in touch with the local leaders."

John nodded grimly.

"We need to get organised. We've been running around, each trying to make
sure our own Labs are safe. Now we have to look at the big picture," John
told them all sternly. "Let's get people out there on the ground to find
out what's happening. And you..." He fixed Don with a piercing gaze. "You
sit down and tell me exactly what happened."


End of Part Four
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 5/18
Date: 19 Feb 2004 20:05:14 +0000 (GMT)


Part Five

North-Eastern Toronto - 8am EDT


Her breath frosting in the chill autumn air, Abby looked up and down the
road. As she had hoped, she'd found the place deserted when she had
jaunted in. Earlier in the night the scene must have been very different.

The remnants of shattered streetlights and broken car windows frosted the
ground under her feet.  Food wrappings, lost scarves and gloves littered
the sidewalk.  People had been here, recently and in large numbers. She'd
found similar scenes elsewhere in the city in the few hours since she had
fled the telepathic voice in the park. A powder-keg of stored anxiety and
suspicion had exploded last night and this morning all that was left was
its debris, along with the smell of smoke and fear in the air. In the
absence of any real purpose to her meanderings, curiosity drew Abby
onwards. It wasn't until she neared the street corner that she saw the red
lights that were reflected in the windows around her.

The firefighters were packing up as Abby followed the lights to their
source.  She felt a sense of rising dread within her even before she saw
the building they had been trying to save. The battle they had come to
fight was lost: the house lay in ashes, with charred timbers all that
remained of its structure. Abby stared at it, only now trying to work out
where she was; knowing but dreading the answer.  Her jaunts had been
random, but there were few places in the city that were far from the home
of a Tomorrow Person, one or more of the many trying to live in the
mainstream while keeping their secret. Many such homes acted as local
gathering places; some even held small refuges for fellow TPs in trouble.
Without any conscious thought, her jaunts had brought her here - desperate
to find out what had happened to even a few of her people, despite her
reluctance to endanger them.

"Did they get out?" Abby whispered the question to herself, struggling to
deal with the mixture of anger and horror that filled her, and was shocked
when a voice at her shoulder replied.

"No one knows."  The firefighter was dirty and looked exhausted. Soot had
darkened the middle-aged man's blonde hair, and the fluorescent strips on
his padded jacket reflected the flashing lights through a layer of dust.
He didn't really look at her as he spoke, perhaps taking her for some idle
passer-by. "The house was well alight when we got here. We'll have to go
through the ashes before we know one way or another, but we're being
called away already - I've never known a night like it! This wasn't the
only house to go up last night. There were riots all over the city. There
must have been over a hundred fires like this one - and the police'll
never catch the people who started them." The man had been talking
tiredly, caught up in his own concerns.  Only now did he take in Abigail's
pale and drawn face. He touched her arm in sudden concern and sympathy,
but Abby flinched away. "I'm so sorry.  I've been doing this for so many
years that sometimes I forget what it really means. Did you know the
people who lived here?"

"They were a young family." Abby spoke slowly as she pulled the details
from her memory. "Two little children." Lost in her own thoughts, she
didn't hear the firefighter's response.  She hadn't known this couple well
- Marc had been responsible for their training and education - but they
were like thousands of others across Canada. The children would have been
too young to jaunt to safety and with no one in the Lab.... Had their
parents thought to keep matter transporters in the house for the kids?
There were never enough of the complex devices to go around these days and
most were stored in the Labs to be called for when necessary. Had this
family been trapped? The mob that had set the fire must have known what
they were doing.  Had they been encouraged in their rampage by government
agents who knew the truth, or had they just acted on the rumours that must
have flown through the city during the long night?

The firefighter returned to his appliance, helping to pack the tightly
coiled hosepipes and neatly folded ladders, as Abby stood lost in silent
thought.  She seemed unable to summon up any kind of fury for the people
who had done this, only a numb pity and disgust.

The questions chased one another around her exhausted mind and she found
herself visualising the chaos of those pre-dawn hours. How many people had
been roused by the first mob, turning on their neighbours in fear and
suspicion? The children of two Tomorrow People often showed random and
unpredictable talent long before they broke out and learnt to jaunt.  How
many families had been caught like this by the need to save the very
children who had cast the shadow of doubt upon them?  And how many decent,
normal people would wake up in the morning with a memory of mass hysteria
that they would regret for the rest of their lives?

"Are you all right?" In her abstraction, Abby was startled to find the
blonde-haired man returned and standing by her shoulder. He glanced
nervously at her and then back towards the blood-red fire engine, watching
as the rest of his crew climbed into the crowded cabin. "You've been
standing there for a quarter of an hour." He paused and spoke gently. "As
I said, they might have got out.  Look, I have to go. There are too many
fires out there."

"Too many fires," Abby agreed numbly. "And too many questions."

The man hesitated.

"Look, I don't know if the people here were ... friends of yours. If they
were ... get out. Get out of the city. I don't know what kind of
earthquake hit us last night, but I do know one thing: you don't want to
be here for the aftershocks."

Abigail met his eyes for the first time and was momentarily touched by the
concern she saw there. Then the sheer overwhelming hopelessness of the
situation swept over her again and all she could do was nod once as he
turned and ran back to his crew.

Abby watched listlessly as the fire engine drove off. Then she opened her
telepathic senses and listened for the buzz of thought she knew she would
find there. No Sap telepath could shield their presence from a Tomorrow
Person as experienced as Abigail was, when she chose to look. A man's mind
touched hers - young, relatively inexperienced, his thoughts hummed with
the intensity of his determination not to let her escape his surveillance.
Abby sighed.  This was the fifth individual telepath she had felt already
this morning. Would they never run out?  Would they never tire? Either
way, only one thing was important right now: she was being watched again,
just as she had been at every stop she'd made since fleeing the Lab. It
was time to move on. With a final sad look around her, she jaunted.


End of Part Five


____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - part 6/18
Date: 19 Feb 2004 20:06:15 +0000 (GMT)


Part Six

Canada, 150 miles from Toronto - 10.30am EDT


The walls were swaying and billowing inwards.  Lights exploded in front of
his eyes and more were bursting inside his head. His stomach churned as
his mind throbbed with the agony of the sensory overload. Curled tightly
into a foetal ball, Marc buried his face in his hands and prayed for it
all to stop.

"Get up, you lot!" The words ricocheted through Marc's head, triggering
fireworks that exploded behind his retinas.  His eyes wouldn't focus; the
soldier was no more than a vague blur in front of him. "Get up!" the
soldier shouted once again, kicking Marc in the ribs as a wordless and
brutal encouragement.  The Tomorrow Person barely felt the physical pain,
too lost in mental agony to care.

How long had he been like this? The hours had passed in a blur of
unconsciousness and drugged disorientation. There were others nearby,
others affected by the Barlumin, but Marc could not hear even a hint of
them in his mind. His first experience of mild Barlumin radiation from the
fine dust aerosols used by the raiders had come as a shock.  Nothing
though, could have prepared him for this never-ending journey. Confined in
the back of a truck with who-knew-how-many of his friends and a solid lump
of the mineral, he wasn't just stripped of his special powers: he had been
stripped of all rational thought.

"Get up!" the soldier shouted once more and now, for the first time, his
meaning began to penetrate Marc's confused mind.  "You people are supposed
to know everything. Can't you tell we're here?"

Light assaulted Marc's eyes and now it was daylight, not the random firing
of radiation-damaged neurons.  A breath of fresh air cut through the
stuffiness of the truck and caressed the Tomorrow Person's face.  He
sucked in the fresh air as though it were water at the end of a desert
trek. Forcing his eyes to focus, feeling his mind beginning to clear, he
raised his head carefully.

"Where are we?" The voice was high and frightened, but he recognised it as
belonging to one of the children who had broken out less than a day
before.  She was crying, and she wasn't alone. Marc cried out too as he
instinctively tried to touch her telepathically with comfort and his mind
seemed to explode with agony. People all around were crying in pain and
confusion, many of them only now waking from the peaceful oblivion of
unconsciousness.

Marc gazed about him in confusion, aware of something - no, someone -
missing. 'Abby!' The thought of his fellow co-ordinator wiped all other
concerns from his mind and his eyes struggled to focus on the faces around
him, hoping and praying that hers was not among them. After Thomas's
betrayal, keeping track of Abby had become impossible, despite the fact
that she had seldom left Marc's thoughts. As he'd struggled to deal with
the effects of the Barlumin aerosols, he had watched the crowds gathered
at gunpoint by the soldiers, thanking each moment that passed without her
capture.  But then he had been thrown into that truck and thought had shut
down - even the thought of Abigail.


Lost in his concerns, still too confused to move, Marc found himself
seized by an arm and literally dragged across the floor of the truck
before being tossed out to land in the mud beyond its door.  Soldiers
surrounded the Tomorrow People, pulling them to their feet and herding
them into small groups. Marc himself was hauled to one side, closely
guarded, despite his attempts to help some of the children who had fallen
to the ground beside him.  Last to climb out of the truck, one of the
soldiers behind Marc held a pyramidal Barlumin emitter against his chest,
as if cradling something precious.  The device was closed, the effects of
the mineral within mitigated by its thick casing, but the soldier was
clearly ready to open it again at a moment's notice.  Already, Marc had
realised that this would be unnecessary. It was faint, yet there was
Barlumin here somewhere. At the back of his mind, he felt the agony of the
journey settle into a throbbing headache that the low concentrations of
the mineral would sustain indefinitely. After the truck it was almost a
relief, but he knew that it was a false one. Even this low a concentration
would keep Marc and his people cut off from their powers, perhaps for the
rest of their lives.

All around, other trucks were disgorging their sick and disoriented
cargoes into the parade ground of what appeared to be an old military
camp. Long, low wooden huts, crudely painted and more than a little
run-down, stretched out in every direction. Scattered amongst the huts
were squat wooden towers housing guards, who were keeping their new
prisoners covered with both conventional and specialist anti-telepath
weaponry.  Marc had seen photographs of places like this in long-forgotten
history lessons. A creeping horror climbed his spine as he remembered that
history and all that went with it.

"A concentration camp," he whispered aloud. Guards gripped his arms
tightly at this first indication of rational thought from their prize
prisoner. Still weak but strengthened by his anger, Marc tried to shake
them off, his aim uncertain at first.  To one side, perhaps a hundred
metres away, a group of men in military colours looked up from their
discussion at the disturbance. Marc's efforts became more focused as he
tried to break free from his guards and face these commanders. "You cannot
do this to us!" he shouted hoarsely. "You cannot keep us here!"

More people were turning to face them now, the faces of the TPs falling as
they saw their leader being securely held.  Marc forced the tinge of panic
from his face and voice, letting himself dwell on the anger instead.  He
had a responsibility to all the people here.  He had failed to keep them
safe; all he could do now was try to lead them through this trial with
dignity. Abby would get them out. Marc was sure now that she wasn't
amongst the anxious crowd. Sooner or later, she would rescue them all.

He focused on that hope as he faced the green-and-grey-clad men who were
approaching him. They weren't wearing military uniforms exactly, more an
assortment of camouflage-coloured clothing. He sucked in a sharp breath:
Military Intelligence, and high ranking too.  They had to be. Still sick
to his stomach with Barlumin poisoning, Marc struggled to stand straight.
He fixed the foremost man with a steady gaze, reading the man's name,
'Trent', from his ID badge.

"Where are we?" Marc said quietly, feeling his responsibilities as
Co-ordinator of the Canadian Tomorrow People more acutely than ever
before. The man in charge gave him a contemptuous glance and ignored the
query, striding past and jumping onto the tailboard of the truck in order
to get a better view of his new subjects. Despite himself, Marc couldn't
stop his voice rising desperately. "You have to tell us where we are!"

"Oh, I don't think you're in any position to be giving orders around here.
What say you and I have a little chat now, eh Monsieur?" Trent nodded to
the soldiers and they pulled Marc roughly to his feet. Marc let himself be
manhandled, hating the man for the singsong sarcasm in his tone. "Get
these people assigned bunks, and bring this one to headquarters. We have a
nice room prepared for our star guest and I'm sure he won't mind answering
a few simple questions for us now, will he?"


End of Part Six

____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 7/18
Date: 19 Feb 2004 20:07:11 +0000 (GMT)


Part Seven

The Suburbs of Toronto - 12 noon EDT


"I don't believe this." The woman waved the midday paper in front of her
partner's face. The middle-aged man grunted non-commitally and sipped his
drink to avoid the necessity of a more verbal response. "Not a word about
the riots! Not a word about the houses burned to the ground! How they
think anyone in the city could have failed to notice... well, I ask you!"
She read the headline again, aloud this time. "'Mayor Demands Tax Hike' -
as if that's news. What about all the disturbances? What about the men in
black who raided that house down the street?  The Government can't hide it
all from us for ever." She looked around the small caf=E9, aware of the eye=
s
upon her. "If you want my opinion," she went on, indifferent to the fact
that no one did,  "it's these Tomorrow People, that's who it is. They're
causing all this trouble.  They oughtn't to be allowed to live among
decent people."

The woman's companion sighed and put down his now empty cup.  Clearly this
was not a new argument for the two of them.

"It is a rather large tax hike," he pointed out calmly.

She glared at him and looked down at his empty plate and her own
half-filled cup. "Have you finished, at last?" she demanded, as if he were
the one who had kept her waiting. "You're impossible when you're in this
kind of mood." She thrust the newspaper into his lap as she rose to her
feet.  "We're going home."  Clearly resigned to the burdens of his life,
the man followed her silently from the caf=E9, glancing thoughtfully at the
headline of the paper he now carried.

Neither of them noticed the pale young woman sitting alone by the window.

****

Abigail held back the tears and the fury, but the woman's voice was like a
knife in her mind. "They oughtn't to be allowed to live among decent
people." It was words like that which had led to her home being destroyed,
her people captured, Marc taken away and perhaps even tortured for the
information he possessed. It was words like that which set fire to a house
with two children inside.  It was words like that which turned
superstitious fear into hate.

Abby dashed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to
make the gesture nonchalant and inconspicuous. She so much wanted to stand
up, to speak out, and give these Saps a lesson!  But how would that
improve anything?  Speaking out alone, she would seem a crank or just make
herself more of a target, while demonstrating her powers would just fuel
the fear that simmered under the surface of this city's mental landscape.
Instead she sighed and forced herself to take another small bite of the
pastry she had bought. It tasted dry and it was an effort of will to
swallow each mouthful, but she had to admit that she was hungry.  Abigail
knew it had been too long since she had last slept and she couldn't
actually remember her last meal. Half a day constantly keeping on the
move, staying one step ahead of the people tracking her, had left her
feeling drained. She had found that no matter how far she jaunted within
Canada's borders there would be both a Sap telepath and a team of military
agents on her trail within half an hour.  She hadn't dared to go further
afield.  The only places outside Canada that she knew well enough to jaunt
to blind were Labs, and she wouldn't place another Lab at risk - no matter
how great the price.  Eventually though, Abby had realised that walking
and jaunting indefinitely were not getting her anywhere.

If these Sap agents had wanted her in custody, then large numbers could
have moved in and trapped her with Barlumin weapons on any one of three or
four occasions during the course of the day. Instead they had let her run
free.  Tracking her electronically, and with the team of eight relatively
short-range telepaths who seemed to have been placed on her trail, they
were merely watching her. The invasion of her privacy would have been
distressing at any time, but she knew this was worse than simple
surveillance. They were waiting for her to betray her friends.  Well, if
they had waited this long, they could wait a little longer. Knowing that
she would never be able to use it again, Abby had drained one of her bank
accounts and taken the cash.  She had jaunted out of the Lab in the early
hours of the morning with no more than the clothes she stood up in, and
the autumn air was cold.  She had needed a coat and she had bought one.
Now, more than anything, she needed a hot drink.

The coffee warmed and comforted Abby. She cupped the mug in her hands,
only now aware of how cold and stiff she had become. The decision to just
stop and take the risk had, strangely, been an enormous relief.  After
that, the conversation at the next table had been an unexpected and
unpleasant reminder of the dangers outside. This caf=E9 was small and in on=
e
of the outer suburbs of Toronto. Nonetheless, she knew it was already
surrounded. The woman who had first alerted her to the watchers was back
in her mind, trying to conceal her presence and failing miserably. Not for
the first time, Abby considered striking out and blinding the woman's
mind's eye - temporarily at least.  It might give her some small
satisfaction but, truly, what good would it do? Military Intelligence
would have another telepath on her trail within minutes. Sitting by the
window, Abigail watched the street carefully, noting the suspiciously
loitering passers-by and watching for any sign that they were about to
move in.

The caf=E9's proprietor moved out from behind the serving counter to clear
the plates and cups that the disagreeable couple had left behind. Suddenly
alert and with hands on her jaunting belt, Abby watched the woman closely
for any sign that she was a danger.  Her attention didn't go unnoticed.

"Don't let that old harridan bother you, honey," the woman told Abby in
amiable tones. "That pair come in here for their regular lunchtime
argument once a week. Our other regulars are all used to tuning them out."

Abby gave a small cough to ease a throat tightened by cold and disuse and
then spoke tiredly, relieved to hear a friendly voice.

"She's right though about the papers not reporting the ... disturbances
last night."

The caf=E9 owner frowned and concentrated for a moment on her task. With a
clatter, she finished stacking the used plates.

"Perhaps there are some things that it's better we don't know about," she
said shortly.

"How can you say that?" Once again, Abby felt her temper flaring, anger
washing away some of the shock. Images flashed through her mind - the Lab
overrun; her people captured or killed; Marc looking ill, a child in each
arm. How could anyone willingly blind themselves to all that? "Don't you
think that if people are being killed, if people are being rounded up like
animals, everyone should know about it?"

"It's not as if they're real people, like you and me." The waitress gave a
short humourless laugh. "That's if they even exist."  She looked up,
meeting Abby's eyes, and something in Abigail's gaze changed the nervous
tension in her expression into a faint trace of fear. The woman took a
step backwards and broke the stare, as if that would protect her from what
she seemed to realise was before her. "I think you should leave," she said
harshly.

Abigail remained seated, understanding but not wanting to. She knew that
after the traumatic events of the night, she was wearing her fear and
confusion more openly than any Tomorrow Person should ever do.

"Why?" Her voice was confused and a little lost. "What have I done?"

"Your kind aren't welcome here," the caf=E9 proprietor hissed softly. She
wouldn't meet Abigail's eyes, didn't see the pain of rejection there. Abby
knew argument would be useless.  She left the remains of her pastry on the
plate and stood up.

"I don't understand." She lied for the sake of appearances more than
anything else, before her anger broke through the shock. "None of you
understand, but perhaps you can." Again images of the Lab, of Marc, of the
fire, flashed through Abby's memories and this time she reached out
telepathically and shared them. The woman in front of her stared silently
at nothing as Abby projected her anger and pain telepathically into the
Sap mind. The caf=E9's other patrons stared as their hostess collapsed into
a chair, her eyes wide with horror, but few of them had overheard the
conversation and fewer still made the connection.  Wordlessly, Abigail
walked out.


End of Part Seven

____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A =3D X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed By Fire - Part 8/18
Date: 20 Feb 2004 17:49:57 +0000 (GMT)


Part Eight

Headquarters, London Tomorrow People - 1pm EDT (6pm Local Time)

Stephen gritted his teeth and forced himself to wait patiently as the
second hand of the clock crept around to join the minute hand on the hour.
He had ordered his team to check in at the new headquarters at six PM.
Expecting them to be early was over-optimistic perhaps, but given
everything he had learned today, each second they were overdue worried
him.

"Patience, Stephen." TIM's familiar voice was soothing, but Stephen knew
the biotronic computer too well to be deceived by his apparent calm.  He
gave a wry laugh.

"You know patience is a virtue I've never been able to claim, TIM."

"You can say that again," John teased gently, looking up from a report he
was reading, but Stephen didn't miss the flick of John's eyes to the clock
and back once more.

"I ought to be out there," Stephen told his friends angrily. "Eight major
labs and sixteen local Labs raided within a few minutes! It was a miracle
that there was enough warning from Canada that most of them were able to
evacuate. Even so, we've probably had several hundred TPs out there
captured with Barlumin." He shook his head, angry with himself more than
anything else. "My team was meant to keep an eye on Lab security worldwide
and we didn't even have a hint that the Saps were planning this!"

"Stephen - " John's voice was soothing - "we've been through this.  If
anyone from Operation Malthus were involved, you'd be recognised before
you could find out anything useful in Toronto. And the child was a member
of the Toronto Lab for three weeks - three weeks, Stephen! It's a wonder
so few Labs were compromised. Most of these attacks would have happened
sooner or later anyway. The Saps had hints as to the location of them all.
I would guess only the Chicago Lab was targeted because of information
gathered from Toronto."  He paused, gazing into nothing. "The Saps must
have been co-ordinating this worldwide campaign for months, but with
Thomas in Toronto .... They synchronised their attacks so we would all be
caught off guard."

"And we were, we were," Stephen agreed bitterly. The first of his agents
jaunted in before John could respond and, after that, the jaunting pad in
the corner seemed to hum constantly with new arrivals.  Stephen counted
them back anxiously - trying to keep track of who was here and who was
still out in a world that seemed to have turned on them overnight - as TIM
provided hot drinks and food for the tired agents.

"All right." John called the meeting to order at five past the hour,
giving Stephen's people time to warm up and catch their breath.  The
eldest Tomorrow Person spoke quietly, but the authority in his voice cut
through the bustle in the room. "We all know what happened last night.  We
know that London was abandoned and that Toronto is gone.  What happened to
the other major Labs?"

"Melbourne was hit hard." The young Tomorrow Person who spoke was pale and
hunched down in his seat by one of the link tables, cupping a hot drink in
his hands. "The Lab there had three main doors and the Saps found two of
them."

"Were you able to find Gavin, the leader down there? He's not answering me
telepathically," Stephen interrupted, leaning forward intently.

"He got a dose of the Barlumin, but some of the others got him out.  He'll
be fine in a day or two." The young man paused and shook his head in
helpless frustration. "The people I spoke to thought that a couple of
hundred people might have been caught by the Barlumin the Saps deployed.
Most of them were affected by Barlumin poisoning while still asleep, or
trapped while trying to defend children too young to jaunt to safety."

"TIM," Stephen frowned, glancing up at the biotronic computer, "have you
been able to find out what's happening to all the people who've been
caught?"

"Indeed." TIM's voice was sombre. "In every country in which a Lab has
been raided I can find record of the recent refitting of derelict or
underused army camps. Every one of those records has been truncated by one
official secrets act or another. When I tried to scan the camp in northern
England I encountered significant interference on my telepathic receptors.
I believe these bases have been fitted with sufficient Barlumin to
incapacitate any Tomorrow Person kept within them."

There was a murmur of anger and dismay from everyone in the room.  John
clenched his fists in an effort to hold his temper in check.

"Concentration camps." He spat out the words. "Kershia warned us, but
after we shattered Operation Malthus, I thought ...." His voice trailed
off angrily. "They're trying to round us up."

"John - " Stephen's voice was determined and reassuring - "we will get
them out of there, sooner or later." He rubbed a hand across his stinging
eyes. "All right, people, what about the other major Labs?"

*****

Stephen looked down at the paper on which he had been making notes for the
last half-hour and tried to summarise them.

"We struck the first blow in this war when we shut down Operation
Malthus," he told his agents flatly. "We knew that the Saps were going to
strike back and they've waited just long enough to put us off our guard.
We were lucky today. There was enough warning from Canada, so that most
Labs' occupants saw their attackers coming." He raised a hand, counting
off points on his fingers. "Yes, the leaders were forced to collapse or
destroy part of their home. Yes, in each city they raided, agitators
raised mobs that have driven some of us from homes and livelihoods ... or
worse. Yes, a couple of thousand people have been caught by the Saps." He
paused and began to curl his fingers again, counting down the points on
the flip side of the situation. "But in most of those regions there were
many minor Labs that haven't been touched. In every case the local leader
escaped, even if forced to do so by their friends. Instead of a couple of
thousand people imprisoned, there might have been a hundred thousand, or
even millions." Stephen paused, trying to force confidence into his voice
as he spoke to his demoralised team. "The Tomorrow People have been hit
and hit hard, but we'll recover." His voice faltered and he looked across
the room at the cluster of agents who had not yet reported. "Almost
everywhere." He glanced up at John and his friend nodded.

"Toronto." John dropped the word into a room that became silent at the
sound of it. "What's happening in Toronto?"

For a long moment no one spoke.

"The people are scattered," reported one of the agents who had just come
back from the city. "They can't even evacuate to one of the local Labs.
Their co-ordinator effectively told them to get out and hide. A lot of
them have left the city. A lot more of them don't know what to do -
they're lying low but don't dare to try and leave. They don't have
anywhere to go. The city is crawling with Sap telepaths and the TPs there
are scared to use their telepathy at all, except very quietly and at very
short range." The young woman hesitated. "More than a hundred people were
probably killed. Our best guess is that two thousand people were snatched
from the Labs or their homes. Half of those were kids."

"Two thousand!" someone repeated numbly from the back of the room.

"The surrounding regions have all sent in people," another of the agents
volunteered, "ready to help if the Saps track down any others. They're
taking in matter transporters, so those families with small children who
want to leave Canada can do so."

"We can resettle perhaps a few thousand across North America," TIM
interrupted doubtfully. "Beyond that a mass movement of people is going to
be noticeable to the Saps."

"We can bring a fair number here - it's what this place was designed for,
after all - but I don't think many more than that will want to move,"
Stephen told them all, thoughtfully.  "Abby and Marc were well ahead of
most of the other Labs around the world on Lab security.  They had more
contingencies in place against a breach in Lab integrity than just about
anyone else - probably because they knew better than most just how much
work the Saps have put into that.  Half their neighbours thought they were
being paranoid!  The entire Lab was rigged with security monitors and
alarms and they had secondary identities arranged for most of the people
heavily involved in running their Labs. That's as well as the false IDs
they had to set up for the new breakouts. Most of the people who didn't
actually live in the Labs would have had very little contact with them. I
think most will stay put and pray that they've not been given away." He
clenched his fists, unable to express the anger he felt. "And after all
their work, Marc and Abby were hit by the one thing they couldn't have
anticipated. Malthus was meant to be over and done with! None of us had
any idea that one of the kids had escaped or that any of them had the
potential to break out!" Stephen sighed, closing his eyes and slowly
unclenching his hands, before going on. "Abigail? I assume no one was able
to find her?"

"Do we even know if she's still alive?" a young woman at the back of the
crowd asked quietly. "No one in Toronto seems sure if she jaunted out of
the Lab in time."

"I believe it is likely that she did." TIM's sudden interruption drew the
eyes of everyone in the room towards him, relieved and anxious for him to
justify his assertion. Aware of the attention, TIM went on slowly. "I have
been monitoring a large volume of encrypted Sap signal traffic.  I believe
they are attempting to track a high-ranking member of the Toronto Lab -
with some success."

"You think it's Abby?" Stephen asked urgently.

"It is possible," TIM conceded. "If so, the Saps have some method of
tracking her movements and she is almost certainly under telepathic
surveillance.  It would explain why Abigail has not attempted to contact
us or any other Lab."

"Can we get ahead of them? Grab Abby and get her out of there?" John
asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"I regret, John, that the signals I am receiving are non-localised and I
am unable to crack the encryption protocol. They might well have designed
it specifically for this occasion. The new miniaturised surveillance
cameras that you have developed might prove useful, however. If we can
first locate Abby, we will be able to find and remove the bug, but until
then...."

"We're just going to have to do it the hard way," John sighed. "Abby must
be in shock. She's not going to be able to keep ahead of them
indefinitely. One of us has to get to her first." He frowned, looking at
the agents around them, and sent Stephen a tightly focused thought. (They
all look just about done in, Stephen. Do we have anyone else we can send
out to look for Abigail?)

(We have a few more who were away this morning or went to check on some of
the Labs we were pretty sure had evacuated just for safety,) Stephen
shrugged. (I'll round them up.) He nodded to his agents and raised a hand
in dismissal. "We'll get people onto it," he told his tired audience
aloud.  "Meanwhile, get some rest. You've all worked hard today and we'll
still be picking up the pieces of all this in the morning."

*****

(The Saps have captured Marc,) TIM reminded John and Stephen privately, as
the others drifted from the room. (Even those with new identities remain
at risk. We are all in danger.)

(Marc won't give us away,) Stephen snapped, shaking his head in denial.

(He may not have a choice,) John thought very quietly. He felt Stephen's
upset response and sent his regret. (We have to consider the possibility,
but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. First things first. Let's
find Abby and get her out of there. Kershia's still out looking for her,
in any case. She asked Elle to take over her duties up here.) He let his
voice trail off, sensing the unpleasant memories that, even after so long,
lingered as a barrier between Stephen and his best agent. (Kershia has
always been a law unto herself, but her friendship with Abby has deep
roots. She won't give up.) John paused again and closed his eyes, rubbing
the bridge of his nose to ease the tension. (We're getting old, Stephen,
you and I and the others of our generation. Most of us are off world all
the time - dealing with the refugees or trying to talk sense into the
Federation. I think half the TPs out there wouldn't even recognise us if
we jaunted into their Labs. We can't afford to lose people like Marc and
Abigail - not now. If we win this war we're going to need them.)

(When we win this war,) Stephen corrected immediately.  John didn't meet
his eyes.

(Perhaps, Stephen, perhaps.)


End of Part Eight

____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 9/18
Date: 20 Feb 2004 17:50:54 +0000 (GMT)


Part Nine

Pinewood Lake, Saskatchewan, Canada - 4pm EDT

The air smelled of snow and of ice. Sunlight reflected in shimmering
curtains off the lake water, the vista ever changing as the wind rippled
its surface. The rowing boat rocked gently beneath Abby and she held
tightly to its wooden sides. Had this been a good idea?  After the hours
of running with no hope of shaking off her pursuers, she had just wanted
to get away. Here at least, no one could creep up on her.  No one could
brush against her in the crowd, discreetly applying the Barlumin weaponry
she dreaded. In a small rowing boat, surrounded by a mile of water in
every direction, Abby felt as safe as she had done at any point that day.

Of course, 'safe' was a relative term at best. The constant and wearing
pursuit was beginning to terrify her. She would not be able to keep this
up indefinitely; perhaps a day, certainly not for much longer.  Already,
her eyes were stinging with the dryness that came with lack of sleep.
Already, her limbs were aching with weariness. No - Abby pushed those
thoughts aside with sheer force of will - she couldn't afford to worry
about tomorrow right now. She had come here to give herself a chance to
think and a chance to act before her pursuers caught up with her; she
didn't have time to waste.

Pinewood Lake lay in silence, the stillness broken only by the slight
breeze that sent small waves across it, as if they were racing one another
to their destination.  A full fifteen miles away, the small settlement to
which it gave its name huddled on the lakeshore, but Abby tried to cast
any thought of it from her mind. The only local Tomorrow Person she knew
of was more than capable of looking after himself, but when she had found
herself so close to an old friend's home, her first instinct had been to
jaunt once again. Instead she had 'borrowed' Travin's boat from its
isolated shelter and headed out on to the lake.  She wasn't ready yet to
face the crowded city and she and Marc had been out more than once in this
little craft. She knew how to handle it.

The sheer physical concentration took her mind off other matters, for a
few minutes at least. Abigail took deep breaths of the cool autumn air and
forced herself to think clearly and rationally for almost the first time
since this nightmare had started. Her first priority had to be trying to
rid herself of the bugging device that had been planted on her. Until she
did that she would not be able to contact any of her people and, more than
anything else, that was what she wanted to do.  She wanted to know what
was happening, where everyone was, who was safe ... and who wasn't.  But
until the bug was gone she could do precisely nothing.

Abby had already searched her clothing for any sign of the device, but she
had hardly been surprised not to find it.  The Saps, in their never-ending
fight against other nations, stateless terrorists, and one another, had
always spent more money on military research than any of a hundred other
causes. The first signs of the Mass Breakout had just added to the
paranoia and the development of surveillance devices. Whatever Thomas had
planted on her, it would be advanced, perhaps more advanced than anything
the Tomorrow People had seen before. It could be very nearly microscopic,
using her own body as both a power source and a sounding board to pick up
vibrations. And it could be anywhere - attached to clothing, hair or even
skin without her noticing. Well, the latter two possibilities Abby could
do nothing about.  She would just have to concentrate on the first.

Abigail sat huddled in the full-length duffle coat she had bought earlier,
afraid to lose the warmth that had been so slow to build up inside it.
Nonetheless, now that she had a short while to think about it, she
realised that buying the coat had only been a first step.  Abby began to
slip out of her clothing as best she could while staying inside the baggy
coat.  She would have to find replacements from somewhere. Perhaps
Pinewood Lake, perhaps somewhere in Toronto.  She had money - the remains
of the bank account she had drained still filled her pockets. She simply
hated the knowledge that wherever she went, whatever she bought, they
would be watching her. Unless this actually worked, of course.

One by one, the items of clothing slipped into the dark water. Abby
watched them vanish, hoping beyond hope that an alarm, somewhere, was
bewailing a signal's loss. That wouldn't stop the Intelligence hordes from
descending on this place, naturally. Already they would be en route, ready
to turn around and follow her beacon at a moment's notice if she jaunted.
She smiled a tight and humourless smile, imagining the consternation on
their faces if their bug were even now short-circuited, lying dead on the
lakebed.

Abby was wearing nothing except underclothes and her new coat when the
helicopter flew overhead. It hovered above the rowing boat, the thunder of
it filling the air. The downdraft from the rotor blades rocked the boat
violently, threatening to throw her from the small vessel.  Clinging to
the rowlocks, she gazed upwards. She had thought herself isolated here.
The Intelligence men shouldn't have been able to approach any closer than
the distant shoreline. She screamed into the unnatural wind, the anger she
had felt earlier in the caf=E9 coursing through her once more.

How dare they! How dare they fill her world with their hatred and their
noise and their machinery.  She had to be free of all this. The boat
rocked again, almost tossing Abigail into the churning water and startling
her from the verge of jaunting. An idea came to her suddenly and she
looked up again with new purpose.  There was a telepath in the chopper,
the youngest of the familiar group, but with the noise and vibration his
concentration was shaky at best.

Telekinesis sent Abigail's warm coat to dry land a moment before she hit
the icy water.  The shock of it knocked her breath from her body. Her
muscles spasmed, locking her chest tight as the blue-black water closed
about her.  For a moment, consciousness fled as hypothermia and exhaustion
took their toll.  Instinct saved her, the ice-water imploding in a
swirling rainbow of refracted light as she jaunted.

*****

"Get her inside." The voice was unfamiliar and tense.  Something warm and
dry touched her wet skin, wrapping around her.  Abby kept her eyes closed,
allowing herself to rest in strong arms, not resisting as they placed her
in a hard wooden chair.

Shivering, dripping, gasping for breath, Abigail pulled the blanket ever
more tightly around herself.  A cup of warm soup was pressed into her
blue-tinged hands and she sipped it gratefully. Her eyes opened slowly,
only now recognising the inside of a public house.  Only now recognising
that the people who surrounded her were Saps, as strange to her as her
surroundings. Instinct had saved her life and instinct had brought her
home to Toronto.  Sheer chance or some unconscious inspiration had caused
her to jaunt to the city's waterfront, to be found and helped into a
nearby pub by startled passers-by. They had wrapped her in the blanket,
given her warm drinks.

"How did you come to fall in?"  The man who had handed her the soup
pressed his hands around her numb fingers, helping her hold the cup. "You
were lucky.  The water is freezing!"

Abby just gave him a blank look and he broke off from questioning her,
speaking instead about shock and ambulances to someone out of her line of
sight.

"No!" Abby could hear her teeth chattering. "I'll be fine.  I just need to
warm up a little. I'll be fine!"

She couldn't explain to them how she had ended up in the water.  Even to
herself, she couldn't pretend that jumping into the lake had been a good
idea, but... she had never believed that the bug was attached to her
clothes.  Thomas had trained all his life to infiltrate a Lab. He would
never have made such a trivial mistake. With the helicopter above and the
fragile boat below her, it had seemed only natural to try shorting out the
bug, no matter where it had been planted upon her.  If total immersion in
water hadn't done it ....

Hope began to swell in Abby's tired thoughts.  Perhaps it had worked!
Perhaps the Intelligence agents who had trailed her to the lake believed
her truly gone, drowned in the black water. Perhaps she was finally free!

Shock and cold had blocked her mind, robbing her of her special powers.
Now, as their influence began to recede, her mind opened.  The caution of
seven years as a Tomorrow Person guarded her thoughts automatically
against detection but, even without reaching out, she felt the life of the
city swell around her. After the physical and mental silence of Pinewood
Lake, the everyday hum of the city was almost a shock.

The sarcastically amused thoughts of the woman telepath rang against the
familiar background like a discordant note in an intricate symphony.  For
just a moment, Abigail clung to her hope - this close to the city centre
it was natural that one or more of the Sap telepaths would be nearby. It
didn't mean....

She closed her eyes in despair as she accepted the truth. The woman was
straining to find Abby's mind, her thoughts sweeping across the dock area.
The Saps knew exactly where to search for her and yet Abby would swear
that not a single thought had escaped her mental defences. It hadn't
worked.

It hadn't worked.

Abby pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders with a numb
determination. First things first. She needed to pick up her coat and
money, and then she would need more clothes - even if she had to steal
them.  Most of her rescuers had drifted away; the few who were left were
clustered around the bar, their backs to her. She would have to steal this
blanket too. And leave without thanking the kind people who had helped her
so.  Everything in her cried out in protest. Tears pricked at her eyes,
but she forced them away.

There would be time enough for tears later.

Abby jaunted.


End of Part Nine
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A =3D X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 10/18
Date: 20 Feb 2004 17:51:51 +0000 (GMT)


Part Ten

The Camp, 150 miles from Toronto, Canada - 6pm EDT


David gazed at the unconscious man and felt no pity. As an observer he had
played little part in the interrogation of the TP leader, but he would not
have hesitated to do so.  They were at war, whether the 'next stage of
human evolution' wanted to believe it or not. And in wars people got hurt.

Trent kicked the table in a useless display of frustration, for once
forgetting the presence of his 'official observer'.

"And a fat lot we got out of that one! I've never seen a TP conditioned
against drugs and hypnotism!"

David couldn't resist a smirk.  After a day of watching Trent triumph, it
was refreshing to see his frustration. Trent scowled at him and frowned
thoughtfully. "We ought to have Thomas here.  The kid could just pull
everything he knows from his head."

David's head snapped up, anger in his eyes.

"He's one of them, Trent. Whatever we made him to be, he's a Tomorrow
Person now." David was aware that the scorn in his voice was unwise, but
this was one area in which he was not prepared to compromise. He had
watched the child grow up, helped raise and train him.  And he had never
imagined that the last of the Malthus children would become the very thing
they had been created to combat. "Would you actually believe anything he
told you?" He gave a bitter laugh. "You can't trust them, Trent.  They'll
stab you in the back as soon as look at you."

Trent glared at David and paced the length of the room, pausing to aim yet
another kick at the table holding the unconscious Tomorrow Person. The man
was enjoying this far too much.  Since inspecting his prisoners in the
camp that morning, Trent had seemed drunk with power. David could only
muster a mild disgust for such behaviour.  He had seen too much today and
in the last two years to be taking any pleasure from this work.

"And how they can look at you!" Trent laughed sarcastically, but there was
anger at David's tone in his eyes. "I thought the kid was going to kill
you with a look when he realised we were throwing him in with the others."

David tried to laugh along, but he too remembered the way Thomas had
looked at him as the boy sprawled in the mud of the camp's parade ground.
The look of pained betrayal on the child's face would haunt him, he knew.
In his mind's eye, Thomas's wide blue eyes merged with a woman's brown
ones.  An expression of dazed betrayal flashed across her face as David
tightened his finger on the trigger.  Thomas had mirrored it so closely!
David shook his head sharply, unconscious of the gesture. No, he wouldn't
think of that - not now. He was unsettled; recognising the TP leader had
been a shock.  Perhaps it had been a coincidence that this man had
delivered pizza to his house just hours before everything fell apart, but
David didn't believe in coincidence any more. Perhaps this man had known
=2E.. her, perhaps not. It didn't matter. He had learned everything he
needed to know from that whole affair.  He had learned whom he could and
couldn't trust.

"Thomas knew what would happen to a Tomorrow Person long before he
admitted to being one," David told Trent flatly. "As long as I have any
say in the matter, the boy stays in the camp."

"And perhaps that won't be as long as you think." There was no disguising
the hostility in Trent's voice now. "I think that maybe you ought to
reread the definition of 'official observer', eh?"

"Without us, Canadian Intelligence would still be scrabbling around in the
dark!" David snapped. "We've provided you with the Barlumin you asked for.
We entrusted you with the conclusion of Operation Malthus because we
thought you would be grateful - "

"You entrusted us with Malthus because the British Secret Service was so
riddled with holes that the TPs could snatch seven children from your most
secret base," Trent interrupted, smiling a cruel smile and waving a hand
as if to dismiss David's argument. "Your General Walthorpe was so eager to
get Thomas out of the country, he was practically begging us to take the
kid in!"

David ground his teeth together with the effort of not answering back just
as quickly. It wouldn't be so galling if it weren't all true. After the
Tomorrow People's raid on Operation Malthus the entire British national
security operation had been left in tatters. From being world leaders in
the TP containment field, Britain had found itself almost a decade behind
its nearest rivals. From being second-in-command of the most sophisticated
telepathic infiltration project ever designed, David had found himself an
'official observer', able to do little more than support and guide the
last of the Malthus children. He had thrown himself into the job, his
devotion to Thomas filling some part of the hole left in his world when he
had lost Keetia and the life he'd hoped they'd live together. And now
Thomas had betrayed him, just as she had done.

Only one thing was important now - containing the Mass Breakout menace
before it was totally out of control.  He looked up at Trent, his face
expressionless.

"I'm not here to play power games, Trent.  I'm here to see that our world
stays in the hands of people who have earned it."

Trent turned away from him, unable to find any quick reply.  The Canadian
Intelligence officer snapped his fingers at the soldier by the door and
waved a hand vaguely towards the man on the table.

"Bring him," he ordered. Trent turned back to David with a vicious grin on
his face. "I think everyone will be settled in by now. It's time we told
these people how things stand."

******

There was a collective gasp from the Tomorrow People as their unconscious
leader was cast at their feet. Forced into the centre of the camp's parade
ground, they formed a confused huddle of displaced people. A few of the
braver souls darted forward to lift Marc out of the mud. The soldiers let
them. There would be time enough later for Marc to be returned to
interrogation. Meanwhile, let his people nurse him for a time. It would
save the soldiers the trouble.

"Listen up, all of you!" Trent shouted, his sharp voice cutting through
the rising hum of frightened conversation.  The camp fell silent, only the
crying of the younger children breaking the tableau. "My name's Trent. You
don't know who I am and you don't need to.  All you need to know is that
I'm in charge. To be honest, I don't much want to know who any of you lot
are either. You have all been arrested under the provisions of the
Canadian National Emergency Bill and according to a warrant signed under
the mandate of the federal Solicitor General. You will remain in detention
until the current threat to the national security of Canada has passed."
He paused, looking about him with an expression of loathing. "All right,
so much for the legalities, eh? You know why you've been brought here as
well as I do and you know we're not going to let you out any time soon.
Don't think you can escape either. As you've probably figured out by now,
there's enough Barlumin in the camp to keep the lot of you down to the
level of us mere humans. It's all around you, permeating this place.
Perhaps it's in the ground, perhaps it's in the paint on the walls,
perhaps it's in the water you drink.  You'll never know."

"You cannot keep us here forever," A French-Canadian woman shouted as she
bent over Marc. She looked up with impotent fire in her eyes.  "You can't
expect to arrest hundreds of people without some protest - un toll=E9!"

"Two thousand, actually." Trent waved a hand as if dismissing the total as
trivial. "Give or take a hundred.  And that's not counting the couple of
hundred inevitable casualties. Haven't you figured it out yet? You're
Tomorrow People. There's not going to be any kind of outcry - no one is
going to care!"

The lightness of the Intelligence man's tone did little to soften the
impact of his words.  They left the crowd reeling and Marc stirred weakly,
the word 'casualties' ringing through his mind. David watched as the man's
eyes drifted open and Marc's pain-fogged gaze fixed on his face. The
Tomorrow Person must have known that members of his Lab had died.  When
the soldiers had burst in, many of them had carried conventional weaponry
as well as the Barlumin and Synaptrol based chemical agents. Rather than
allow the Tomorrow People to retaliate with their stun guns, the soldiers
had been ordered to shoot first at any potential threat.  Even as they had
been herded together, Marc must had seen the bodies of friends in the
wreckage of the Lab's upper levels, but perhaps he hadn't realised the
scale of the slaughter.

"Abby," he whispered softly, just loud enough for David to hear. The
British man could feel a certain sympathy.  From what he had heard of her
activities that day, Marc's Abigail was a fighter. The woman who had dived
into an icy lake in the effort to escape would not have willingly
abandoned any of her people to their fate just hours before. David could
almost see the thoughts in the minds of Marc and the crowd. Had Abby
escaped the Lab? Or had all their hopes and dreams died with her in the
wreckage of their home?

"Abby got away." The child's voice carried across the parade ground and
two thousand Tomorrow People heard and believed. David's breath caught in
his throat at the weakness in the familiar voice. No, he had to be strong
here.  He had to remember who the enemy was. The child's words fell into
total silence. "She jaunted out of the control room before she blew it up,
Marc."

"Thomas!" Trent sounded shocked and angry. Slowly, Marc raised his head to
gaze at the boy who now stepped out from the anonymity of the crowd. David
too leaned forward to study the small form. Thomas looked tired and ill -
clearly he had been subject to much the same treatment as the other
Tomorrow People around him - but more than that, he looked smaller
somehow, as if the fulfilment of the destiny for which he had been created
had left him empty and bereft. David tried to feel some emotion for the
boy whose path he had shaped for all his short life; he tried to hate
Thomas for the way his dreams had been perverted by the child, but could
only muster an intense pity and disgust.  Thomas was and always had been a
weapon, and like any weapon, its charge exhausted, he was no longer of any
use.

One of the agents, clearly angered by the boy's words, pushed hard against
Thomas's shoulder and the unsteady child toppled forward, landing in the
mud not far from Marc's feet.  Mud streaking his blond hair brown, Thomas
looked up resentfully at Trent and David.

"I did what I had to, but I don't have to like it!" the eleven year old
shouted, his voice shrill. "And now you're going to leave me here. I knew
that before I even reported." His gaze shifted to fix on David's face.
Standing near the back of the group, the British agent refused to meet the
boy's eyes. "You'll leave me here because despite everything I've done,
I'm one of them. And you can never trust a Tomorrow Person."

There was an angry murmur from the other Tomorrow People now, a shifting
forward of the mass. The soldiers too, shifted nervously, moving their
hands to their guns as if they could dispel the crowd's anger with the
threat of force. Thomas, the focus of such rage, ignored it, tears running
unchecked down his cheeks. David shifted uncertainly, his eyes fixed on
the TP Leader. Weak as he was, barely able to stand, Marc could see the
sparks draw ever closer to the kindling as well as David could. Any moment
now this crowd would erupt and then the jittery soldiers wouldn't even
hesitate.  The parade ground would become a battlefield, and not long
after that a charnel house, with the bodies of Marc's people in the mud.
Staggering to stand unsupported, Marc raised a hand for silence, and at
once a hush fell over the crowd.

"Thomas is one of us, mes amis," he said firmly, in a trembling voice that
nonetheless cut across the murmurs. "I will not allow the child to carry
the blame alone."  Thomas gave him a startled and uncomprehending look,
but seemed unable to speak further. Marc's swollen eyes met David's gaze
contemptuously, and David sensed a determination that was the equal of his
own, if totally opposed. "We're better than that."


End of Part 10
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A =3D X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 11/18
Date: 20 Feb 2004 17:52:40 +0000 (GMT)


Part Eleven

Thomson Park, Toronto, Canada - 7.30pm EDT


Yet another sudden jaunt returned Abigail to the park from which she had
watched the dawn of this unending day. Leaning back against the rough bark
of a tree, she took a deep breath of the cool air, feeling it scour some
of the grime of the city out of her lungs.

She had seen more of Toronto in the last day than in the last decade and
more than anything she wanted to escape the place. As the day had passed,
Abby had fought off her growing exhaustion and frustration by varying the
pattern of her jaunts and the interval between them. Her only consolation
was the steadily growing weariness in the minds of the team of telepaths
monitoring her. As they grew increasingly tired their thoughts were
leaking more and more often, giving Abby images of the Military
Intelligence operatives tracking her and of the widely scattered vans in
which the range-limited telepaths had to be transported in order to regain
contact after each of her jaunts.

After a day of helpless running, the insight into the organisation
pursuing her gave her a welcome feeling of power. Before coming here she
had spent almost an hour in a small town forty miles outside Toronto,
allowing the Intelligence people to move their soldiers and telepaths out
of position so as to surround her. Perhaps they had thought that she had
given up running, perhaps they assumed she had stopped there for a reason.
Either way, they had done just as she had expected, gathering their
resources in the area.  Taking a huge risk, she had opened herself a
little wider to the leaked thoughts of the inexperienced telepath watching
her, and did not jaunt until she had seen a large military build-up
through those eyes. She wouldn't be able to use this trick again, but with
any luck she would have a few minutes yet before the Intelligence service
doubled back and she was once more under surveillance.

Abby felt a smile of triumph on her face and her spirits fell as she
sensed what she was doing. She was acting as if she had won somehow. She
was acting as if she had somewhere to run to, some hope of escaping the
hunt.  She had slipped the telepathic invasion of privacy for just a few
minutes, but she was still wearing a homing device; she was still wired
for sound. The realisation left her feeling drained.  Abigail sighed and
closed her eyes for a moment, trying to ease their gritty dryness.  An
image of Marc flashed across the inside of her eyelids, just as it did
every time she had closed them today. She felt so useless. Her people were
scattered, Marc had been captured, and all she had done was run for her
life. Angry with herself for giving in, Abby forced her eyes open. She
might be running but, even so, the pursuit drew resources away from any
attempt to round up the vast majority of her people who remained in the
city.

Taking advantage of the few minutes of relative solitude, Abby scanned the
park from the shelter of the copse into which she had jaunted. As she had
expected, given the time of evening, scattered groups of teenagers were
haunting the green space, each basing its territory around some bench or
tree or other minor landmark.  Despite the turmoil of the night before,
the life of the city and the complex rituals of youth went on.
Nonetheless, something was jarring; something in the back of her mind told
her that all was not what it seemed. Frowning, she forced herself to
concentrate and studied the other people in the park more carefully.

Within moments she noticed the group of children who were quite unlike any
of their peers.  They were clustered around one of the park benches; the
youngest among them were seated, huddled in coats much too large for them
and surrounded by what seemed almost to be a protective screen of older
youths.  It was the age range that drew Abigail's eyes first.  It was
seldom that young people on the verge of adulthood would be seen out in
the company of younger teens, let alone a couple of children who couldn't
be older than six or seven years old.

Her heart sinking, Abby guessed what she was seeing long before she
recognised the faces of the older children.  She felt tears sting her eyes
at the sight of them. She had worked so hard to lead the Saps away from
the homeless and dispossessed remnants of her Lab that she'd almost been
able to forget what dire straits many of them must now be in.

For a moment, Abigail hesitated. She didn't dare approach the children
openly.  Not only was she in no position to help them herself, but given
that she was almost certainly wired for sound, she would condemn them all
the moment one of them spoke her name.  At the same time though, even the
most experienced of these children was incapable of completely concealing
a telepathic conversation from a listening Sap telepath.  True, Abby had
no immediate sensation of being watched mentally and had expected the
respite, but tired as she was, there was no way she could be sure. She
racked her brain, trying frantically to choose the safest path from the
dizzying maze of alternatives she could suddenly see. The logical move for
them all now would be if she were to jaunt out immediately, but even that
carried risks.  After her recent long intervals between jaunts, moving on
too quickly might rouse suspicion in itself.

Some of the children were crying. Abby watched with numb dismay, as if
seeing everything on some distant screen.  Others amongst them wore the
expressions of children who had seen too much to find release in simple
tears. Every face was pale and all the children were shivering. The eldest
in the group, Josh, urged the others to quieten their tears, then looked
around him desperately, as if hoping to find guidance amongst the trees.
For just a moment, as he turned away from the younger children, Abby saw
an expression of grief and confusion cross the young man's face before he
faced them again with a reassuring smile. No matter what the danger, she
couldn't abandon these children.  She had a duty towards them.

Reaching a quick decision, Abby focused her eyes on the young man and
then, taking a deep breath, focused her mind.

(Don't answer me!) The thought was the narrowest and most direct Abby was
capable of.  Even had she been in a room full of experienced Tomorrow
People, or untrained but sensitive children, she would have been confident
of not being overheard. Josh's head jerked backwards and the
seventeen-year-old boy's eyes widened. (Josh, this is important. Don't
answer me.  I'm under surveillance and you don't have the experience to
hide your thoughts. Listen - leave the others for a moment. Walk into the
stand of trees twenty metres to your left.)

Abby could see the uncertainty and wariness on Josh's face, but the young
man was clearly desperate for advice and guidance.  Nervously, she watched
as he made some excuse to his companions and headed towards the thicket.
Now came the most difficult part.

(Josh, there is another group of trees a hundred metres north of you.  Be
very, very careful and very, very quiet, you understand? Jaunt into it.)

******

Abigail was ready for Josh's exclamation of surprise and relief when he
jaunted into her presence. Her hand across his mouth cut it off unvoiced.
Spinning him to face her, she put all the warning and meaning she could
into her expression, placing a finger across her lips and shaking her head
sharply. The boy's eyes widened as he took in her pale face and
dishevelled figure, his look mingling disappointment with surprise. Still
in silence, Abby took his hands in hers and focused her thoughts through
the physical contact, allowing her mental voice to fall to a mere whisper.

(Josh, I want you to think very, very quietly.  Don't try to project, just
let me pick up what you want me to see. All right, now tell me
everything.)

(What happened, Abby?) The boy's thoughts were angry and confused. (What
happened back there at the Lab?)

(What you saw.) Abby kept her thoughts very level. Josh didn't need her
pain; he didn't need her grief or despair.  This boy needed someone to
rely on - he needed the Lab Co-ordinator who had helped train and house
him. For him, Abby could be strong.  (We were raided and driven from the
Lab.  We can't go back there. Have you had any contact with anyone else?)

Josh shook his head.

(We've been keeping moving all day, Abby.  We've not seen anyone we know
since we got out of the Lab this morning.) Abigail could feel his
frustration as he went on. (Everyone is shielding so high and I didn't
dare call anyone loudly. I've felt Sap telepaths around us from time to
time and kept everyone quiet.... Abby, I don't think many of the people we
knew got out.)

(I know, Josh, I know).  She glanced out through the screen of trees,
keeping an eye on the other children. (How many of you are there?)

(Fourteen,) Josh answered immediately. (Including the four little kids.
Abby, I took them to watch a film at the movie theatre this afternoon -
just to keep them warm.  We don't have much money left. Where are we meant
to sleep, eh?)

(Quietly, Josh,) Abby warned urgently, thinking hard. She didn't dare send
them direct to another Lab, but there were not many other options.  She
was going to have to take a risk. (Do you have matter transporters for the
small children?)

(That's how we got them out of the Lab in the first place,) Josh
confirmed. His eyes clouded as he remembered the panic and chaos in the
Lab that morning. (Most people were still asleep and anyone who was awake
was trying to get to the stun guns or wake the rest.  People kept shouting
at us to jaunt before we were trapped.  The kids got separated from their
folks somehow and we grabbed them just as we were about to jaunt out.) A
strange expression of wonder and joy passed momentarily across his
thoughts and face. (One of them broke out, Abby.  We only had three belts
and there were these four little kids and one of them just got this funny
look on her face and jaunted into hyperspace. We had to pull her out and
give her a crash course in how to control it all today.)

Abby felt a smile creeping across her face, remembering the joy she had
always felt when the children of Tomorrow People realised their potential,
but then she remembered that the proud parents might never know that their
child had broken out, and the smile faded. This was taking too long, but
she couldn't just leave these children to freeze in the park overnight.
With matter transporters, they could get the kids somewhere warm, if she
could only suggest a safe place. Gently, so Josh wouldn't realise what was
happening, she probed a little deeper into his mind.  She had to be sure
of what she was doing before she told him anything now.  There was no
deceit in the boy's mind, nothing but concern for himself and the younger
children who had found themselves so unexpectedly in his care. Finally,
Abigail was satisfied.

(All right, Josh.  I want you to get the kids away from this park - I
don't care where, but this place will be crawling with government agents
any time now and you're not going to be able to keep everyone quiet for
long. Then I want just a couple of you to jaunt to a town called Pinewood
Lake in Saskatchewan. It's in the middle of nowhere, but a man called
Travin lives there. He got fed up with Lab politics almost a decade ago
and retired out there. He'll be able to help.  He'll get the lot of you to
safety.)

(What if he's not there?) Josh asked nervously. (What if he's run, like
everyone else?)

(I don't think he would, but just in case....) Abby didn't even hesitate.
Releasing one of Josh's hands, she pulled her remaining money from her
coat pocket and pressed all but a few dollars into Josh's hand, before
grasping his wrist to renew the contact. (You can find them somewhere to
sleep for tonight at least. Tomorrow things will be quieter.  Just get
them through tonight, Josh.) She looked around the park once again and let
her passive awareness broaden to listen for any Sap telepaths in the area.
There didn't seem to be any just yet, but through their connection, she
felt Josh's surprise at how much his little group distorted the mental
background in a mind as highly trained as her own.  She looked at him a
little sadly. There was so much he'd never had the chance to learn. (I
don't think the Saps will hear you unless they guess and listen to your
group deliberately. But I have to move on.  Get them out, Josh.)

(I will, Abby,) Josh promised fervently.  (I will.)

******

Abby watched, telepathically as well as visually, as the young man jaunted
back to the trees nearest the other children before slipping out to join
them.  Closing her eyes, she sighed in momentary relief.  Perhaps they
really had got away with it; either way, she couldn't stop here.  She was
already focusing her mind, preparing to jaunt out, when she felt the
steadily approaching presence of one of the Sap telepaths who had tracked
her all day.  He knew from the homing device that she must be close, but
the short-range mental abilities of the man were straining, trying to find
some trace of her well-shielded mind.  Burying any thought of the still
too-close children deep inside, Abby quite deliberately brushed the man's
mind with contempt. It had been hours since she'd given up trying to
pretend that she didn't know they were nearby. They were waiting for her
to make a mistake that would give away her friends, and they knew that she
knew it.

(It took you long enough to catch up this time,) she said, loud enough to
give the Sap a splitting headache and wipe out most of his telepathic
sensitivity.  Abby nodded to herself with satisfaction, knowing that he
would never sense the children's presence now. (Catch me if you can,) she
jeered.

Then she jaunted, leaving the Saps to catch up once again.


End of Part Eleven
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail]
Subject: Re: TPFICT: Consumed By Fire - Part 8/18
Date: 20 Feb 2004 15:44:05 EST


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You sure can write well! Thanks! Glad to see some older TP fic!

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<HTML><FONT FACE=3Darial,helvetica><FONT  SIZE=3D2 PTSIZE=3D10>You sure can=20=
write well! Thanks! Glad to see some older TP fic! </FONT></HTML>

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 12/18
Date: 21 Feb 2004 16:06:05 +0000 (GMT)


Part Twelve


Military Intelligence Surveillance Unit, Toronto - 8.15pm EDT

"The snoopers have picked her up, sir!" There was a note of triumph in the
voice of the soldier reporting.

"They'd better not lose her again - that's all," Trent snarled, casting an
angry look towards the back of the van. The telepath that Abigail Rollinde
had shouted at in the park was still slumped in his seat, holding his head
as if it would otherwise burst, despite the painkillers. Trent dismissed
the man from his mind impatiently. After all, any telepath assigned to
watch a Tomorrow Person was briefed on the risk of overload.  The young
man had been doing his duty and if that got him a couple of days in
hospital, then so be it.

Nonetheless, with two soldiers, two intelligence officers, that useless
British observer, and Trent himself in the claustrophobic and
computer-lined van, the presence of an injured telepath was an irritant
they could all do without. David met Trent's scowl with a raised eyebrow.
The Englishman knew that his mere existence was an insult to Trent and his
people, and he had enjoyed rubbing Trent's nose in it for every hour of
the two years he had spent here as Thomas's 'observer'.  Trent was looking
forward to the next few weeks though.  When the Rollinde woman was in
custody and the dust settled, David would be the one forced to explain how
a Malthus genetic product could break out as a Tomorrow Person.  Trent
couldn't wait to see the other man squirm.

"Anything on the microphone?" David asked quietly.  The agent responsible
for listening to the bug glanced up and shook his head, unaware of the
harsh smile of anticipation on Trent's face, as he responded to the
observer's question.

"Not a thing, sir. She's being quiet as a mouse."

"The nearest telepath says that the subject is still not giving anything
away telepathically either, sir," the soldier reported, one hand on his
earphones as he concentrated on the message he was receiving. "Apart from
the time she shouted at our snooper there, she seems to have maintained
telepathic silence."

"Then let's get moving!" Trent snapped impatiently, his imminent
confrontation with David put aside as duty called.  He cast another
disdainful look at the telepath in the back of the van. "And get another
of the snoopers here fast! This one's not going to be much good for
anything."

David leaned forward, his eyes scanning the various monitors. The van
roared back into life, the screens around them flickering as it jerked
into motion.

"We can't keep this up," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.
"We ought to take her in and question her before we lose her completely."

Trent scowled at him, holding the side of his seat to remain steady while
the van weaved in and out of the busy traffic. He was not about to lose
this point in the unspoken power game he and David were playing.

"Not a chance!" he snapped. "The Rollinde woman is far more useful loose
to lead us to someone else. She's one of the Lab's leaders, for goodness
sake.  Even if she's trying to avoid the other TPs, they'll be trying to
find her.  And when they do...."

Reluctantly, David nodded, but Trent couldn't extract much triumph from
the minor victory. There was a limit to how long they could keep this up
and David knew that as well as he did. Sheer economics meant that they
could not sustain this large an operation indefinitely. Trent glared at
nothing. The head of Canadian Intelligence (Special Security Division) was
not about to back down on mere financial grounds. He would need a better
excuse. Fortunately, one of Trent's own agents provided one.

"Sir, the unit leader of our telepaths is asking to speak to you." The man
put his hand to his earphone to hold it in place, struggling to hear over
the van's engine noise. "She says that her team won't be able to keep the
subject under surveillance much longer. They're getting too tired."

"She'll keep that woman in telepathic contact until I tell her otherwise!"
Trent snapped. They all swayed as the van screamed around a corner and
then David leaned back, smiling slightly to see someone else in Trent's
line of fire for a change.

"Sir, she says they are physically incapable of it." The agent shuffled
uncomfortably in his seat. "She says it's hard work tracking a Tomorrow
Person who's trying to hide. They have been on duty since three this
morning, sir."

Impatient and restless, Trent climbed out of his chair, bending down to
peer through the gap between the front seats. He reached out to steady
himself against the sides of the van as it rattled along the fast lane of
a highway, horns blaring at any vehicle daring to impede its progress.

"Can we get another team to replace them?"

"Every telepathic agent in Canada was deployed last night, Trent," David
reminded him with a certain wry pleasure. He couldn't challenge Trent's
decisions, but as an observer it was certainly his place to point out
where the Canadians had gone wrong and he never missed an opportunity to
do so. "And after that none of them are going to be fit for duty today.
Even the ones your people didn't dose by mistake with the ridiculous
quantities of Barlumin they wasted."

Trent dropped back into his seat, fixing the British agent with a scowl,
then sighed.

"All right," he said quietly, his fists clenched angrily. "If Ms. Rollinde
hasn't contacted anyone by midnight we'll bring her in."

David nodded in silent satisfaction, clearly not foolish enough to put the
emotion into words with Trent sitting beside him.  Whatever personal axe
the man was grinding, it was clear that he wouldn't rest until every
Tomorrow Person on the planet was confined or safely dealt with. The
completion of that task might be a long way off, but for one particular TP
at least, the clock was ticking.


End of Part Twelve
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed By Fire - Part 13/18
Date: 21 Feb 2004 16:07:32 +0000 (GMT)


Part Thirteen


Not far from the Lab, Toronto - 9.30pm EDT

The warehouse was a collapsed ruin.  That wasn't really a surprise, of
course.  After all, the explosives that had breached the Lab's main door
must have been powerful enough to destroy a fair-sized house.
Nonetheless, the sight left Abby feeling an irrational rage.  The Toronto
Tomorrow People had been running their import/export business for years
before she'd broken out.  True, it existed solely to provide a cover
location for the underground Lab. True, it had always seemed such a chore
to run.  However, as Lab co-ordinators, Marc and Abigail had spent more
than half a decade directing the company and making it successful and
profitable. For it to be wiped out as no more than a minor detail of the
military's plans seemed almost as much an act of wanton destruction as
what had happened beneath it.

Only now aware of the tears running warmly down her cold cheeks, Abby
wiped them away with one hand. Why had she come here?  She hadn't dared
approach any closer than the other side of the industrial site on which
the warehouse had stood, but had watched with rising fury as hazard-suited
men picked through the ruins of her home.  It wasn't as if she could do
anything to change what had happened here and she certainly didn't believe
anyone was left in the underground complex, but she had needed to come
anyway. She had had to see the destruction for herself.  In her
exhaustion, the events of that morning were already starting to take on
the haziness of a nightmare.  Abby shook her head, trying to dispel the
fog that was filling it. She couldn't afford to block this out. She had to
remember every detail - she owed it to all those people who hadn't
escaped.

Besides, perhaps - just perhaps - she might be able to pick up some hint
of what had happened to Marc and the others.  There was no guarantee that
TIM, John or anyone else had been able to track events in the Toronto Lab,
or even that they had any idea what had happened here.  TIM had spoken of
an attack on the London Lab - had London been hit as badly as Abby's
people had been? She pushed that thought from her mind with an effort for
the hundredth time today.  Even putting aside fear for her London friends,
she didn't dare consider the implications of a disaster of that magnitude
for Tomorrow People worldwide.

Either way, if Abigail couldn't count on other Labs to come to the rescue
of her people, she had to start learning what she could now.  With the
microphone presumably still planted on her somewhere, making any progress
would not be easy, but she was tired of endless running. If she could just
tune in to the minds of the hazard-suited men without the Sap telepath
tracking her overhearing.... It wasn't ethical, but after the Lab raid,
even John would let this one pass.

Abby rubbed her pounding head absently.  Her headache had been getting
steadily worse all day, but since she had jaunted here it had become a
throbbing, menacing thing.  The only plus factor was that she didn't seem
to hear any of the Sap telepaths around yet.  She had heard nothing more
from the man she had spoken to in the park, while the others had become
both wary and angry since that incident. Abby had taken a bitter pleasure
from their discomfort. Their reluctance to leave themselves open to her,
together with their heightened emotion, had made them relatively easy to
detect and then block from her thoughts. It was strange that none of them
should be watching her here, though.  Usually jaunts this close to the
centre of Toronto had brought her into range of one or another of the
group within minutes.

Still, whatever the cause, she had to take advantage of the respite while
it lasted.  The workers on the warehouse site might well have been warned
of her approach, so she would have to be stealthy, but there was still a
chance that she could see something in their dull Sap minds - maybe even
what had happened to Marc. Abby moved into the shadow of a different
building, anxious not to stay in one spot for too long in these dangerous
surroundings.  She frowned to herself, leaning against the nearest wall
for support.  At first she had been able to feel little beyond her rage at
the men who were desecrating the site of her people's biggest tragedy. Now
Abigail realised that she couldn't see what the workmen were actually
doing.  From time to time, one or more would emerge from below with large
plastic bags full of debris and what looked like ash. The ash in itself
wasn't surprising, for Abby shuddered to think of the fires that must have
been started by bullet damage to the Lab's systems. Smoke still drifted
around the warehouse in a thin cloud, extending even this far from the
building, an unwelcome reminder of the battle that had raged below.
Elsewhere in the city a chill autumn breeze had cleansed the air, but this
site was shielded all around by tall buildings and by the natural
depression in which it lay. Above them the breeze blew strongly, snapping
company flags taut on their poles, but at ground level the air was still
and the taste of smoke filled Abby's mouth and throat.  She shook the
physical discomfort aside, forcing herself to concentrate despite her
ever-shortening attention span. What baffled her was why the Saps would be
collecting the debris, as if gathering something too precious to waste.

Carefully, Abigail crept closer, trying to get a clear view of was
happening, as well as to get a fix on one of the workmen's minds. It was
odd that she hadn't been able to sense them from this distance, but then
she knew she was tired; reading a Sap mind was never a straightforward
task. It should become easier as she drew nearer.

She was just a hundred metres or so away from the warehouse when she saw
one of the workmen running what appeared to be a small vacuum cleaner over
the hazard suit being worn by another. Puzzled, she stopped for a moment
to watch, once again leaning against the nearest wall to provide support
and balance. The man was meticulous, cleansing every grain of dust from
the white suit before removing the small vacuum cylinder from the device
and inspecting its contents with some satisfaction. Abby took a step
forward, aiming to get a better view as she tried to work out what could
possibly be in the dust that was so valuable or essential.

The world spun around Abigail and her step became a stumble. Her mind
seemed to be trying to escape through her ears, taking her sense of
balance with it. Desperately, she groped her way back to the wall and
pressed her forehead against its cold bricks. Sudden realisation left her
heart in her mouth and her anger focused entirely on her own
thoughtlessness. How could she have been so stupid! What was the most
precious mineral the Saps possessed?  And what had they deployed in vast
quantities less than a day before?

Barlumin dust would have coated every surface in the Lab, the
air-conditioning system spreading it far ahead of the advancing intruders.
Barlumin aerosols would have been spread on the smoke that still tainted
the air. The rare mineral couldn't make up more than a fraction of a
percent of the ash and dust the Saps were collecting from the subterranean
Lab, but no national security service in the world could afford to lose
that much of the rare mineral - of course they would be recycling it. And
now Abby was just a hundred metres away from what was probably the largest
concentration of the stuff on the planet, excepting only the original seam
near Loch Ness where it had first been mined. She had to get out of here!

The shout from the workmen came when Abby had managed to back off only
fifty metres or so. Glancing back over her shoulder, struggling to keep
her balance whilst doing so, she saw one of the white-suited figures
holding a radio unit to his ear, directing others in pursuit. Maybe her
pursuers had been curious as to what she would do at the Lab site, maybe
they had just expected her to trap herself in the Barlumin-irradiated
area.  Either way, they had clearly lost patience when she began her
retreat. Her heart in her mouth, Abby focused on placing each foot in
front of the last.  Yet again she was running for her life, this time in a
more literal way than she had ever anticipated, and she had nowhere to
run.

The pressure was lifting from her mind now, and her sense of balance was
returning, but she knew it wasn't enough. Even affected as mildly as she
had been by the Barlumin radiation, Abby was a long way from being able to
jaunt and the workmen were gaining on her by the moment.  A cold and
exhausted woman didn't have a hope of escaping from the trained and
well-rested soldiers assigned this important but menial labour.

The wind of her passage wafted more of the stale smoke into Abby's face
and she coughed as she ran, eyes streaming.  This wasn't going to work.
Each breath she took of this tainted air was tying her more tightly to the
ground.

The ground!  Sudden inspiration gave her a new burst of speed, and as she
ran, she now looked from side to side. The other warehouses on the
industrial site had never been of much interest to Abigail, but she had
known the details of her own inside out and there were certain rules that
any such place would have to obey. She spied the fire escape out of the
corner of her eye and changed direction in a moment, heading towards it
without breaking her stride.  The metal steps rang beneath her unsteady
feet and already the leading soldier was climbing the steps below her.
Toronto planning regulations: all warehouse buildings must possess at
least two fire escapes providing access to, and evacuation from, the
building's roof ... If she could only get off the ground, above the smoke!

Chill wind blew against Abby's face as she climbed and now it was real
wind, not just air displaced by her seemingly never-ending ascent.  With
sudden clarity, she remembered another day and another climb - clean air
blowing down the slopes of Mauna Loa as she had raised her face to the
afternoon sun.  Then, just as now, she had been climbing for freedom and
to escape the troubles that surrounded her. The thought buoyed her, giving
her tired legs new energy.  Cold seared her lungs, but each breath now was
fresh air and she breathed it gratefully and deeply.  The top of the
stairs came as a relief, easing the agony of her cramping leg muscles, and
then she was on the open expanse of the roof, still running to stay ahead
of her pursuers.  One by one they climbed to the roof behind her, fanning
out and trapping her at the roof's edge.

Out of space, Abigail stopped and stood with her back to the low wall that
encircled the roof. Warily, she watched the approach of the hazard-suited
men. As she had hoped and planned, her mind was clearing now that she had
escaped the radiation that permeated the environment below, but she still
wasn't sure if jaunting was an option. Time. She needed just a little more
time for her special abilities to recover. Angry with herself for getting
into this situation, furious with her pursuers for putting her in it, Abby
cast about her for any escape.

The soldiers weren't ready for her leap onto the wall behind her.  She had
barely known herself what she was going to do until the moment she moved.
One or two took a quick step forward, but she raised her hand warningly to
stop them.

"Back away."  Abby's voice was hoarse from smoke, cold and disuse, but in
the silence on the roof everyone heard her. "Back away or I'll jump."  She
spoke now as much for the benefit of the bug she wore as for the soldiers
facing her. What kind of mind was directing this operation?  Would he take
a chance and throw it all away now, or would he blink first when faced
with a high-stakes gamble? "Your bosses have invested too much time and
effort into chasing me for you to throw it all away like this.  If I jump
now, they lose everything." Hearing the weariness in her own voice, Abby
gave a bitter laugh. "And believe me, after everything I've seen today I'm
not going to hesitate.

Would this work?  Abby felt her mind growing clearer by the moment, a new
clarity in her thoughts making the world around her somehow sharper and
more distinct.  Desperately, she tried to visualise herself in a street a
mile away, but she knew without trying that the destination was still
beyond her reach.  For long seconds she stood poised on the parapet. Her
future depended now on the men in front of her and their distant
controllers.  She was playing chicken and playing it with her life. Either
they would do as she told them, or she would indeed step backwards into
the five-storey void. Thousands were counting on her silence; she owed
them her life, nothing less.

"Stand down."  The order came through the radio unit each soldier wore
beneath his hazard suit and Abby breathed out a breath she hadn't realised
she was holding. She honestly hadn't expected to walk out of this one -
she still couldn't quite believe she had. One at a time, the soldiers
stepped back cautiously and Abby felt her shoulders slump.  She closed her
eyes momentarily in relief and it was only with the absence of visual
distraction that she heard the decision in the mind of the young soldier
on her left. Frustration overwhelming his sense of discipline, he lunged
towards her with thoughts of medals and honours ringing through his head.

But Abby was one step ahead of him.  It was now or never.  Glancing over
her shoulder at the long drop, she drew a deep breath and then took that
one step backwards.


End of Part Thirteen
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed By Fire - Part 14/18
Date: 21 Feb 2004 16:08:44 +0000 (GMT)


Part Fourteen


Pinewood Lake, Saskatchewan, Canada - 10pm EDT

"Excuse me?" The voice was young and hesitant and spoke with a city
accent, his intonation rising and turning his words into a question. "I'm
looking for a man named Travin?"

Travin Harkness looked up from his drink and studied the young man
interrogating his barman.  Definitely a city boy; no one in his right mind
would dress like that in this sleepy village of a few hundred souls. There
were many reasons why a city boy might be looking for Travin on this day
of all days.

There were just as many reasons why Travin shouldn't let himself be found.
The alarm from young Abigail that had woken him that morning had been
about as rude an awakening as he'd ever experienced and a dreadful shock.
The Toronto Lab had been his home and his responsibility for so many years
that his decision to step aside for the sharp young minds of Abigail and
Marc had necessarily carried with it a decision to retire to his home
town. Okay, he had barely been into his late forties, but he just couldn't
have stayed in the Lab without second-guessing every move his younger
replacements made. Neither he nor Abby and Marc deserved that. He had
never regretted the choice - even when he'd heard Abigail's alarmed voice
in his mind and knew that his old home had gone forever.

Like many of Canada's Tomorrow People he had lain low at first, wondering
if his cover were blown, wondering if he dared to try and help. Given the
nature of the exponentially accelerating mass breakout, no more than a
small fraction of the Canadian Tomorrow People would remember an
administrator who had left nearly a decade before. Abigail and Marc had
come from time to time to consult him or just visit here in Pinewood Lake,
but Travin himself hadn't been back to Toronto since the day of his
retirement. Knowing that a clean break was needed he had even chosen not
to leave a forwarding address. True, an agent in the Lab might have
learned of his presence here, had anyone searched for him specifically,
but the chances of his name coming up in random conversation would have
been slim. In the end, frustration and impatience had driven the veteran
Tomorrow Person out from under cover.  Around noon, he had reached out
mind-to-mind to touch the nervous leader of the local Lab based just two
hundred miles north of here.

By all accounts it was sheer luck that their Lab hadn't been raided while
so many of their neighbours' Labs had. Travin hadn't questioned that luck
- just used it.  A small team, personally summoned by the female leader,
had jaunted back into the evacuated building, swiftly collecting all the
useful equipment they could. They would probably never return to the now
suspect site.

Instead, Travin and his nominal leader had assembled the trusted core of
the local TP Lab in a deserted barn, ten miles out of town, and then
gathered in the confused and anxious refugees from Toronto as they fled in
this and every other direction. Most had been shielding tightly, but the
knot of TP minds was a beacon nonetheless. Certainly, it had been enough
to attract TIM's attention and the biotronic guardian of the Tomorrow
People had been only too pleased to find an old friend active and busy.
The lack of definite news about young Abby and Marc had strengthened
Travin's resolve to do what he could. Only when he felt the presence of a
passing Sap telepath, focused on some task of his own, had Travin
temporarily disbanded the mental link they'd sustained. The danger had
soon passed and the Tomorrow People had cautiously resumed their meld; in
such a remote village the chances of any Sap telepath turning up at random
were extremely slender. Eventually the flood of newcomers had died down to
a trickle and Travin had retreated from the link and come here, eager not
to be seen deviating from a schedule which he was known to keep like
clockwork.

And now a city boy, asking for him by name.  Curious and somewhat
alarming.

The barkeeper was also looking appraisingly at the young man. He appeared
to consider the question, polishing a glass and turning to replace it on
its shelf as he did so.  As the barkeeper turned towards him with
questions on his face, Travin caught the man's eye with a slight shake of
his head.

"I'm afraid there are no 'Travins' around here," the barman told the boy
nonchalantly, turning back to face the visitor. "Have you tried the other
bars in town, eh? There are a couple of others away north of here."

The young man shook his head, clearly disappointed.

"No, for some reason I was sure he'd be in here." He looked around the bar
with an expression that was close to despair. "Thank you for your help."
With a sigh, he headed back to the door, tightening his thin jacket across
his chest as if that would help protect him against the cold autumn night
outside.

Frowning, Travin lowered his mental shields slightly, trying to get a feel
for the mind of the boy searching for him.  The wash of anguish and
frustration was almost overwhelming.  The boy was a telepath all right and
so powerful that he almost had to be a Tomorrow Person, but Travin knew
from discussions with Abby and Marc that nothing could be taken for
granted in these desperate times.

"Stop and take a drink, kid," he called in a low voice as the young man
passed. The barman frowned at him, clearly wondering both at Travin's
decision to speak out and whether the boy was of age. "You look frozen
solid - you could do with something hot to warm you."

The boy stopped for a moment, glancing up.

"I have to get back to my friends."

"Are they outside?" Travin asked in sudden concern, imagining a huddle of
city children freezing slowly to death out there in the night.  Certainly,
if this boy's 'friends' had been adult, they would never have sent him
alone into the bar.

"No, I left them ... somewhere warm." The hesitation in the boy's voice
was reassuring.  If he had in fact jaunted into town alone then the
spectre of hypothermic children was perhaps a little less likely.  Still,
Travin knew he had to be cautious here. He spoke a little brusquely, as if
scolding a foolish young relative, and the boy seemed to respond to the
tone as much as to the words.

"Then they'll be safe enough for a few minutes and you'll do them no good
if you freeze between here and the next bar, eh? Sit down, kid."

"I ... I ..." The boy sat abruptly and the barman was already on his way
across with a steaming cup of coffee.

"It'll go on your tab," the barman warned Travin, placing the drink in
front of the cold boy, who cupped it eagerly in his hands. Travin spared
the barman a grateful nod and watched as the boy sipped at the coffee.

"Josh. My name's 'Josh', not 'kid'." Josh spoke with a note of defiance in
his tone and Travin observed with interest that now, for the first time,
the boy was reaching out tentatively to probe his mind.  With the ease of
many years' experience, Travin strengthened his mental defences,
projecting the foggy impression of a Sap mind to the half-trained boy.
This was going to get them nowhere. The kid didn't seem inclined to spill
any more details about himself and without them Travin was certainly not
going to volunteer any of his own. If only he could think of something to
say, something that would prove once and for all whether or not his guest
was what he seemed to be. Sighing, he glanced out of the misted window
into the night.

"Strange weather we're having."  The comment came from nowhere, shaping
itself on Travin's lips without any conscious thought on his part.
Frowning, he tried to remember why he'd said it, but only a half-formed
memory of Abby speaking softly and urgently floated through his head.
'You have to remember, Travin.' Her eyes were wide and she was inside his
head, lulling, reassuring. 'When the time is right, you'll remember.'  He
half rose to his feet, suddenly furious.  Abby had done that to him?
Planted a suggestion without permission or explanation?  Already though,
words were tumbling from the boy's lips and his expression was just as
confused.

"Yes, it looks like Pele's sent the fog again."

Travin let himself sink back into his seat, the fury flowing out of him.
His response was a whisper only the boy could hear.

"But soon the dragons will blow it away."

'Tomorrow Person'.  The words carried that certainty with them, but more
than that: 'Trusted Tomorrow Person - Lab member or recent breakout.'
Quite how or why Abby and Marc had done it, Travin had no idea, but the
invasion of privacy was explained and perhaps in some way excused. He
sighed and reached out with a focused mental touch.

(Quietly, kid, a Sap telepath passed by here earlier and that's unusual
enough for us all to stay tight shielded.  Now, why don't you tell me how
you know my name?)

(You're Travin? I've been looking for this place for hours!)

The excitement and relief in Josh's thoughts were infectious and Travin
found himself smiling before hastily reinforcing his mental barriers.
Young Josh had been through too much today to hold his shielding for long.

(Abby told me where to find you. The others...)

(Abby?) Travin interrupted urgently, excitement of his own now colouring
the link. (She's alive? Tell me ...) He restrained himself with
difficulty. Abigail would not thank him for letting his concern for her
harm the children he could see in Josh's mind. (No, first we're going to
collect these friends of yours and get them to safety. Then we'll talk
about Abigail!)


End of Part Fourteen
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed By Fire - Part 15/18
Date: 21 Feb 2004 16:10:09 +0000 (GMT)


Part Fifteen

Scarborough Campus, University of Toronto - 11.50pm EDT


Abby sipped her steaming coffee, thanking every power of good in the world
for late-opening student bars. She might even warm up a little if she
could shelter here for half an hour. The night was bitterly cold outside,
a biting wind blowing in off Lake Ontario.  She ached all over, as if the
cold had crept into her bones and lodged there in the hours since her
exhausting escape from the Barlumin-polluted industrial estate.

That escape had been far too close for comfort. She had been well over
halfway to the ground before adrenalin and the sudden clarity of
approaching death had given her the boost needed to jaunt to safety. She
had emerged from hyperspace in a deserted street less than a mile away
from the derelict Lab, with a tumble that left her sprawled on the damp
ground, and for several minutes she just lay there. She had stepped from
the roof more than half expecting the step to be her last.  Despite
feeling guilty when she thought of the hundreds of her friends dead or
missing since that morning, Abby couldn't suppress her overwhelming relief
when she found herself alive and free.  Eventually she had staggered to
her feet and moved on. After all she had been through to escape capture,
she was not about to put herself back on a plate for her pursuers by
staying in the same place for long.

Gradually, as the light faded, the friendly city that Abby knew had faded
with it. Like some secret identity only assumed under cover of darkness, a
world of harsh neon lights and loud nightclubs had begun to take over.
Usually Abigail liked the life and action of the city at night, but today
the noise and colour jarred her exhausted senses. She was no stranger to
metropolitan nightlife, of course. Despite her father's unsettled
lifestyle, Toronto was the closest to a home city she had ever had.
Throughout her childhood, her family had rebounded here as if attached by
some invisible cord. It had seemed natural to attend university here, and
like any other teenage girl she'd gone out clubbing, rebelling against
society and convention. In many ways breakout had been the ultimate
conclusion to that subconscious rebellion.  It certainly hadn't stopped
her partying through the remaining year of her degree course - Tomorrow
Person or not, she had still been a student.

And this had been her student bar. It was so strange to be back here after
so many years, after so much had happened in her life.  The d=E9cor had
changed, the bar staff had changed, Abby had changed, and yet ... just as,
deep inside, she was the same idealistic young woman she had always been,
so the bar was the same refuge it had been in her student days.

She hadn't known where she was going until a moment before jaunting. All
she knew was that she couldn't walk much farther. Her legs were almost
completely numb, her eyes closing of their own accord. She would have to
find somewhere to sleep and soon, but where could she go? Even if she
could be sure that her pursuers would have the patience to wait for her to
awaken and not just seize her while she slept, she had little money to pay
for lodgings. She had struggled to think what she would have done before
breaking out - it seemed so long ago now.  Where would she have gone if
she hadn't had the Lab? Where would there be people ... witnesses? A group
of late teens had walked past her, laughing and teasing one another, and
the college logos on their jackets stood out vividly in the streetlight,
like flares beckoning her home. She couldn't stay here indefinitely, of
course, but for now even a few minutes respite would be something.

Abby's unfocused eyes drifted across the clusters of students - some out
for a quick break from mid-term pressures, others just having a good time.
Young people laughed, joked, or just relaxed in the presence of their
friends. A small group of teenage girls was playing pool at the table in
the corner. A young man on his own, dressed entirely in black, slipped
into the room and ordered a soft drink before coming to sit just a few
tables away from her. A couple by the bar got to their feet, pulling on
coats against the cold night as they called their goodbyes to friends
around the room....

It seemed such a normal scene and yet, all of a sudden, Abigail felt an
almost overwhelming sense of homesickness. Coloured lights swirled in
disco patterns across the walls and floor - a reminder of the soothing
lights of the Lab and an echo of the soporific psychedelia of Hyperspace.
At this time of night, the Lab would be growing quiet around Abby and
Marc.  They would be bidding their friends and charges goodnight, working
on for some hours or - on rare occasions - just relaxing in one another's
company.  It was so easy for Abby to close her eyes and see the scene. It
would be so easy just to drift....

(We're watching you.)

The taunt from the telepath rang through Abby's mind as her mental
defences began to fail. The dream into which she'd been slipping turned
suddenly dark and ominous.  Her friends turned to stare at her with silent
accusation and, standing in the corner of the Lab as he inhabited a corner
of her mind, the telepath smiled a vicious smile.

No! Abby shook herself awake, her mental shields slamming back into place.
The Lab and that chapter of her life were gone; drifting into sleep or
some fantasy world could not bring them back. Abby struggled to feel
something about that - grief, distress, anger - but exhaustion turned
every emotion into the same dull haze. She couldn't afford to sleep, not
now, not yet, but it was growing harder and harder to stay awake. The room
seemed to spin dizzily as her eyes followed the lights across the walls,
and she forced herself to focus instead on the still warm mug she held in
her hands.

It didn't help.  Abby, deprived of visual stimulation, found her mind
groping to absorb and understand every sound around her.  Exhausted as she
was, her mental filters couldn't pull any one conversation from the many
in the bar; instead she found herself adrift in an overwhelming confusion
of disconnected sentences.

"This new website - I'll send you the address - it's...."  "I don't have
the foggiest what he was going on about and I'd swear he doesn't have a
clue...."  "Oh, come on! You've got to remember 'Captain Pugwash'. It
was...." "And my sister said...." "With all the junk in my inbox..." "Have
you checked out the online comics yet?" "So where are we going next...?"
"Are you ready?" "There's this essay...."

Abigail felt tears pricking her eyes as she struggled to stay on top of
the meaningless noise. Pressing her hands to her ears, she looked up again
just in time to see another man dressed in black, older than the man who
had arrived earlier, slip into the room and join the first. Distracted and
idly curious, she noticed that the younger man seemed startled and made as
if to stand, but the older man waved him back into his seat. Both men
glanced at their watches in unison and, instinctively, Abby's eyes flicked
to the large clock on the wall behind the bar. 11.57pm. It was almost
tomorrow.

Putting the strange behaviour of the two men out of her mind, Abby sighed.
She could stay here another quarter of an hour perhaps, and then she would
have to move on.  By then she might even have some idea of where she was
going. The noise level was building up again, and this time, in an effort
to stay in control, she began to run through the soothing meditations that
every Tomorrow Person was taught. Fifteen minutes, she thought, as her
eyes began to drift shut once more.  If she could just get fifteen minutes
rest before moving on....


End of Part Fifteen
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A =3D X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 16/18
Date: 22 Feb 2004 13:59:51 +0000 (GMT)


Part Sixteen


Headquarters, London Tomorrow People - 11.50pm EDT (4.50am Local Time)


"That was unnecessary, TIM!"

Kershia snapped the accusation the moment she jaunted into the Lab's main
room. Stepping down from the jaunting pad on either side of her, the two
younger TPs TIM had sent to fetch her exchanged wry looks.

"It didn't really look as if you were going to come back voluntarily,
Kershia," one of them pointed out in an amused tone. Kershia fixed him
with a glare and bit back an angry retort. There were not many people who
could get away with baiting her but, irritatingly, this was one of them.
They might not be friends exactly, but they'd been through enough together
for him to deserve that much.

"You keep out of this, Jimmy," she told him shortly, turning back to the
main focus of her ire. Striding from the jaunting pad into the centre of
the dimly lit room, she looked up at TIM's hemispheres. "TIM, why did you
have to send anyone out after me? I told you I'd come back when I found
Abby. How did you expect me to get anywhere, dragging these two around?"
She jerked a thumb at each of her two companions. The younger of the two
looked as if he might protest, but a quick shake of the head from Jimmy
kept him silent. Kershia saw it and turned away from the concerned look on
both faces. With a wave, Jimmy dismissed the younger TP, who nodded a
farewell before jaunting off.  Kershia ignored the exchange, prowling
restlessly around the central link table.


"Kershia - " TIM's voice was sympathetic and soothing - "You're not going
to help Abby by searching until you drop.  It's almost morning and you
need sleep.  After the evacuation yesterday morning and then spending the
day in Toronto...."

Kershia shook her head in disbelief.  She hadn't expected most of the TPs
she worked with to understand, but TIM of all people should know that she
wasn't about to leave Abby out there alone.

"Abby hasn't slept for two days, TIM." Kershia's voice was flat and
uncompromising. "I can last a while longer."

"You have responsibilities here too, Kershia."

Kershia hesitated. Seven young faces swam through her mind, gazing at her
with identical grave looks. "It's what we do, Kershia," Alex had told her
simply. "It's what you trained us to do." Kershia had recoiled from that
reminder, knowing it was no more than the truth. She had stared at the
children in shock. There had been a note of uncertainty in the boy's
voice, there had even been a hint of regret, but she had thought that the
last two years had made such a difference to the children.  She had
thought she'd won their trust, but not once in those two years had they
mentioned that they had a brother.

"They'll survive a little longer without me," she told TIM and she
couldn't keep the note of bitterness from her voice. (I should have
stopped this.) She didn't mean to put her guilt into words but here in the
Lab, with Jimmy at her side and TIM above, only the most tightly shielded
thoughts were safe.

"There was nothing you could have done!" Jimmy burst out. He pushed away
from the wall he had been leaning against and strode into the centre of
the room.  "Kershia, you can't take the world onto your shoulders."

Kershia just looked at him sadly and then, frustrated, decided to open her
mind to her fellow agent, showing him the memory that had been tormenting
her all day. Jimmy's mind filled suddenly with the image of the
well-equipped schoolroom in a lonely military base. It was a room he
recognised.  Jimmy too had memories of the Dartmoor base that he would
rather forget, but now he sank into Kershia's memory, his own pushed
aside.

[General Walthorpe gazed at the seven telepathic children in front of him
with fatherly pride.  These were the agents who would destroy the Tomorrow
People menace once and for all.  He spoke to Keetia Ahren, his trusted
agent, expecting her to share his delight:

"We incubated ten foetuses in the beginning. Nine of these survived the
implantation into the surrogate mothers and eight survived the birth."

'Keetia' was a whirl of confusion.  Stephen was in captivity - betrayed by
her in an attempt to save his life - and now the children were trying to
break her shields. If that happened then more than her own life was at
stake.]

By the time Kershia had been debriefed, the children released from their
incubators, and the repercussions of the Malthus raid had died away,
almost a year had passed. The strain of living day to day with the
consequences of her actions had driven that short conversation from her
mind. Perhaps she'd suppressed her suspicions that there were other
children out there. Perhaps she had assumed that the eighth child
Walthorpe mentioned died in infancy from the same genetic flaws that
destroyed two of its siblings. Perhaps it had slipped her mind altogether.
It didn't matter now.

"I helped train those children to believe that Tomorrow People aren't even
human," Kershia told TIM and Jimmy sadly. "And then I let one of them
loose. On Abby and Marc."

"Kershia..." Jimmy's voice trailed off and his hand stopped just short of
touching her arm. He wanted to comfort her, but Kershia would only resent
the comfort he or anyone else in the Lab could offer. Perhaps only Abby
could have broken the shell Kershia habitually built around herself, and
Abby was far from here.

"Kershia! Jimmy!" TIM's urgent call cut across the awkward silence.
Kershia looked up sharply as a map of Toronto illuminated the display
screen on one wall of the room, zooming in until no more than a few square
miles of the city were in view.

"TIM? What is it?" Kershia's eyes scanned the map, her hands on her
jaunting belt, but she could only sigh in frustration. She knew Toronto a
little and the area TIM was highlighting was still too large for any one
person to search.

TIM sounded excited. "My sensors have been attuned to Abigail's thought
patterns for much of the day," he told them both. "I believe I detected a
signal - momentarily. I was able to isolate it to the region displayed."

"But why...?" Jimmy began.

"She's tired, Jimmy!" Kershia snapped, rounding on the young man in
irritation. "She must be ready to collapse.  She's not going to be able to
block her mental signals for ever." She dropped into one of the chairs
beside the link table, her own weariness starting to drain her of hope.
She looked up beseechingly. "TIM, we need to zoom in closer - somehow!"

"I am very much afraid that without further information...." TIM broke off
mid-sentence. "But I am now detecting several military intelligence
vehicles in the area."

"What's in that region, TIM?" Jimmy asked intently. "Where could she go at
this time of night?"

It was a good question, Kershia had to admit, and she frowned.  Some
distant memory niggled her - something Abby had once mentioned.  Kershia's
eyes widened and she bounced to her feet in sudden realisation.

"The university! TIM, Abby went to college around there, didn't she?
Wouldn't there be something there open this late?"

TIM's lights pulsed enthusiastically.

"Indeed. I am sending remote cameras into the area now. I have also woken
John and Stephen.  They will be here in just a few minutes."

Kershia jumped to her feet, her hands once again on her jaunting belt, but
this time Jimmy seized her arm.


"Kershia, wait! TIM's already told us that the area's crawling with Sap
Intelligence. Let's see what the cameras show." Kershia tried to shake him
off, but he held her fast. "Look, even I don't know half the information
you have in your head.  They've already got Marc.  Are you so keen to give
them everything you know too? To give them the location of the rest of the
Malthus children?"

She stared at him, horrified and angry at what he was saying. Her only
thought had been to find Abby and get her to safety; the risk of her own
capture hadn't even occurred to her.

"TIM, get us a picture!" she snapped. "Fast."

The image was on the screen before she finished speaking. The view from
TIM's pin-sized remote camera was grainy and unsteady as the tiny device
hovered near the ceiling of the bar. Kershia didn't care.  Abigail sat
alone in one corner of the bar, dishevelled and exhausted.  Her head was
nodding and she held her mug askew as her eyes closed. Relief washed
through Kershia; they'd found Abby - at last!

"She's surrounded."  Jimmy's voice was tense.

And now the relief drained from Kershia as she began to see what her
fellow agent had spotted at once.  Dotted around the bar, people dressed
in dark and nondescript colours sat alone or in pairs.  And every one of
them had the tensely casual posture of intelligence agents awaiting some
signal. Kershia let her gaze slide over them, counting, trying to find a
weakness in their distribution, but then her eyes stopped, fixed on one
face amongst the many.

David - Memories flashed through her, draining her will and confidence.

[Fixing her with one final, longing stare, he shook his head and mouthed
the words, "I'm sorry." Then raised the revolver and pulled the trigger.]

David was in the bar. He looked older, his brown hair beginning to show
the first hints of grey, his face a little roughened by age or experience.
Instinctively, her emotions confused and overwhelming conscious thought,
Kershia inspected every detail of the man beside whom she'd woken every
day for three years, the man who had tortured Stephen for information, the
man who had tried his best to kill her.  The man who was now aiming a
Barlumin-emitter gun at Abigail.

Kershia's hands were resting on the link table as she leaned forward
towards the screen. Now she put all her strength into a single telepathic
call, focusing it through the table's telepathic booster. David glanced at
the clock behind the bar, clearly waiting for some predefined time.   Five
seconds to midnight.  Abby was almost asleep; her mental shields must be
slipping.  She had to hear this. She just had to.

(Abby!) Kershia screamed. (Jaunt! Now!)

Abby's head snapped upwards, her eyes opening wide. David saw the
reaction, his finger tightening on the trigger, but already she was gone.

Kershia didn't hesitate. Before Jimmy or TIM could react, she jaunted.


End of Part Sixteen
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 17/18
Date: 22 Feb 2004 14:03:31 +0000 (GMT)


Part Seventeen


Mauna Loa, Hawaii - 0.01am EDT, October 2nd 2019 (10.01pm Local Time)

It was dark on the slopes of Mauna Loa, the black-basalt scene illuminated
only by the waxing crescent of the Moon. Abby shivered, wrapping her arms
around her chest. Shock and exhaustion left her weak and shaking as the
night breeze ruffled her long brown hair. Had that really been Kershia? Or
had Abby's dreaming subconscious just seized her friend's voice to deliver
its warning? The question was answered in an instant. Another figure
shimmered out of hyperspace no more than a metre from her, and of the
millions of Tomorrow People living in fear the world over, only one would
come to this place in the middle of the night. Abby felt her legs weaken
as relief washed through her like a cleansing tide.  All day she had been
terrified of meeting any of her kind, convinced that she could do no more
than lead them into danger and captivity. But now everything was
different. Kershia was here, and there was no one Abigail trusted more.

(Hush, Abby!) Kershia's mental whisper was urgent and focused, stopping
her name unspoken on Abby's lips.

Confused and disappointed, Abby obeyed, waiting in silence as Kershia
peered at some kind of scanner, summoned telekinetically from the Lab.
Kershia looked up, her brown almond eyes reflecting the pale moonlight.
Her expression was invisible behind that sparkle and Abby shied away as
the woman in front of her darted forwards, hand outstretched. Sudden pain
made her gasp desperately as she pulled away, and then it was done. Two
strands of Abby's hair were left in Kershia's hand, and despite her
confusion, Abby felt her friend's sense of triumph.  Kershia's mental
energy flooded the world around them and the smell of burning hair filled
the hollow in which they stood. Abby sank to her knees, at last
understanding. Kershia's pyrokinesis had finally rid her of the listening
device which had haunted her all that day. Of course, they might already
have been able to use it to track her here, but so quickly and in so
remote a location? It had always taken them several minutes to find her,
even when she had remained in Canada. At long last she was safe.

"Abby." Kershia was on her knees beside Abby, her arms around her,
sounding shocked and anxious as she saw her condition. "Abby, I'm here."
Through a veil of tears and exhaustion Abby saw only a vague outline of
the woman she had met on this mountain almost eight years previously. It
seemed like a century and more. Kershia's voice was soothing and
reassuring, years of caring for younger siblings and other children
lending her authority.  Abby felt her eyes growing heavy as she finally
felt safe enough to sleep. "I've been looking for you for so long! It's
all right, Abby," Kershia told her softly, "I'll get us home."

Home. The thought floated to the surface in the calm sea of Abby's
thoughts and suddenly those waters became stormy. Home was gone.  Home had
been consumed by fire.  Home had been taken from her when Marc had been
taken. She jerked away from Kershia, anger flooding through her.

"How can you say that?" she hissed bitterly. "How can you say it's 'all
right'?" The words spilled out of her, all the frustrations of her silent
day spilling over in a rush of tears and sobs. "My people were wiped out,
Kershia! The Saps knew where every exit was. They knew every weakness we
have." Memory connected with memory in Abby's misfiring mind. She looked
up, her gaze fixed on the face gleaming in the moonlight. "But you would
know all about that, wouldn't you?" she accused with anger in her eyes.
"You spent years betraying the rest of us! You watched at Barcelona and
that was just a warm-up for what happened today. How could you, Kershia?
How could you do that? Do you have any idea how many lives have been torn
apart today?"

Kershia made no attempt to close the gap that had opened between the two
women. She knelt in the volcanic ash, her eyes not meeting Abby's. When
she spoke, it was in a low voice.

"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" she asked simply. "Do you think
I didn't think of that the moment I learnt what happened? Do you think
that wasn't filling my mind the whole time I was searching for you?"
Kershia looked up with tears unshed in her eyes. "I've lived with my
choices every day for the last seven years, Abby. I've handled it because
I've had to.  And I've done everything in my power to make up for what
happened at Barcelona, for what happened on the Malthus raid...."

"Malthus!" Abby whispered the name harshly. "What use was that raid - all
the lives spent for nothing? They got us in the end. Thomas did exactly
what he was designed to do and if you let one get away, who knows how many
others escaped too?"

Kershia hesitated.  Abby was too tired and too grief-stricken to listen to
reason now, but there were some things she had the right to know.

"Thomas was the last."

Abby stared at her in the dim light, the solemn certainty and
self-reproach in Kershia's voice beginning to break through to her.

"How could you know, Kershia? How could you possibly know?"

Kershia sighed, shifting so she was kneeling closer to Abigail, and gazing
out across the sleeping island of Hawaii.

"Because I asked the others. The Malthus children were just nine years old
when we kidnapped them, Abby. Someone needed to look after them. You know
I've never really settled into life in a Lab. I grew up in a house full of
younger brothers and sisters and after the raid, well, I didn't have
anything better to do. Not many TPs have as much practice shielding
against people like the kids. I thought..." Kershia paused for a moment,
as if only now aware how much her long list of justifications sounded like
excuses. "I suppose I thought I would be giving something back. There
aren't any more Malthus children, Abby. If there were, my kids would have
told me when I challenged them today. They promised me that there were
only ever eight of them."

"And you believe them?" Abby asked sarcastically, struggling to understand
the faith Kershia showed in her charges, as well as her decision to accept
them. Kershia met her eyes, nodding gravely.

"I knew they were hiding things from me ... but they're not our prisoners,
Abby. They're victims of circumstance - as unable to change their past as
we are to go back and prevent our own breakouts. I let them have their
privacy." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I never dreamed what the
consequences of that would be, or I'd have pushed them harder, I swear.
But I have taught them one thing - if I ask them directly, they never lie
to me. I'd know if they were lying. Despite everything they were trained
to be, they're still children and I think they've learnt to respect me."

Abby looked away, her voice hardening.

"That's what I thought about Thomas."

"Abby...."

"No." Abby's sharp answer cut off Kershia's helpless sympathy. She felt
new tears gathering in her eyes. "Kershia, don't even try. My Lab is gone
and nothing you can say is going to bring it back."

Abby wrapped her arms tightly around herself, defeat and despair filling
her mind. All she wanted to do was sleep, and after this never-ending day,
she wasn't sure she ever wanted to wake up again. Maybe it would have been
better for everyone if she hadn't managed to jaunt away from the warehouse
roof. Even with Kershia by her side, the loneliness of the day seemed to
have left her feeling cut off and isolated. Possibly Kershia had never
settled to a Lab life, but since her return from Mauna Loa seven years
before, Abby had never felt so alone. She missed the mental presence of
Marc, of her friends, like a physical loss. As she shivered, Kershia
touched her arm and, strengthened by that physical contact, the powerful
sense of her support and sympathy flooded through Abby.

(I can't bring it back, Abby,) Kershia told her slowly. (But you can.) She
paused, putting all her confidence into her thoughts. (You'll pull your
people together. You're strong and you're not afraid to share that
strength. The Toronto Lab is gone, Abby, but your people are still out
there and they still need you.)

Abby's mental touch was shaky and virtually unshielded.  All her despair
and grief flooded across Kershia's mind. But Kershia had been teaching
untrained telepaths for half her life and let the sensations wash over her
defences.

(I can't do this alone,) Abby whispered telepathically. Images of Marc
flooded the link between the two women and Kershia couldn't quite suppress
the thoughts of David that rose in response: David kissing her, David
shooting her, David raising the gun to point at Abby.  Abby saw them and
looked up, startled and frightened.

She watched as Kershia pushed the memories aside, her thoughts ringing
through their mental bond. (No. Those aren't emotions I can deal with
now.) She would have time to think on that later. (For now, Abby is the
important one.)

Abby heard each thought through her low shields and felt a curious surge
of warmth at Kershia's obvious concern for her. It gave her courage to ask
the one question she'd been longing to ask ever since the moment Kershia
had arrived. "Marc?"

"Captured," Kershia told her, and Abby felt a shiver flow down her spine,
not knowing whether to laugh or cry.  She had no illusions about the kind
of treatment a captured Lab leader might expect; after all, both women
knew what had happened to Stephen during his brief stay in the hands of
military intelligence, but still, it was better than the alternative.
There was so much Abby hadn't had the chance to say to him. At least now
she could hope that the chance would come. Kershia took her hand and spoke
earnestly. "We will get him back.  Him and all the others. It won't be
today, but we're not going to give up on them. We'll find a way. This
won't go on. We won't let it."

Abby looked her friend in the eyes and demanded the honesty of one
powerful telepath to another.

(Do you really believe that, Kershia?)

Kershia nodded slowly.

(We thought that breaking up Operation Malthus and destroying the ST4 was
a triumph. We thought it would be enough to tell the Saps that we weren't
about to fade away quietly. We were wrong.  But, Abby, so are they. We
know now just what this is going to take, but we're the future, whether
they want to believe it or not.  And that's a future I'm prepared to fight
for.  And so are you.) Kershia projected an image of Abby haranguing her,
furious with her for giving up when the pair of them had been surrounded
by molten lava in this very spot. (You're not a quitter, Abby.)

Abby smiled a tired smile. She tried to push herself to her feet, but
neither her arms nor her legs seemed to have the strength.

(If I'm going to pull my people together tomorrow, I guess I'd better get
some sleep,) she told Kershia, with a new determination in her voice.  It
trembled as she thought for a moment about the night that so many of her
people must be experiencing, but Kershia nodded, helping her to her feet.

"I'd better get you back to our new Lab for the night," she told her.
Abby gave her friend a blank look before memory stirred.

"London was raided too! You have a new Lab?"

Kershia nodded and smiled sadly.

"The London Lab was destroyed. You know everyone's been wondering why the
old folk have been away so often? Well, the senior TPs had a secret
surprise up their sleeve.  We were able to evacuate to a fully prepared,
safe new Lab."

Abby suppressed a moment of jealous anger. The events in Toronto had
occurred too quickly to consider a full evacuation, and besides, something
in Kershia's tone suggested that this new Lab had implications beyond the
local care of the London Tomorrow People. She forced another smile.

"So, whereabouts in Britain is the new headquarters?"

Kershia looked up at the waxing moon, her expression mysterious.

"Oh, I think you're going to be in for a surprise, Abby, " she told her as
she jaunted the pair of them - at last - to safety.


End of Part Seventeen
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A = X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Consumed by Fire - Part 18/18
Date: 22 Feb 2004 14:06:04 +0000 (GMT)


Epilogue:

Luna Lab, 3.45 am Eastern Daylight Time, October 8th 2019 (8.45am Local
Time)

Abby gazed out of the heavily reinforced window at the midnight-black
starscape.  The constellations out there were familiar.  At times she
could even convince herself that she was in the dark wilds of rural
Canada, far from the light pollution of the city, where the stars could
shine with unnatural glory. But a million fainter lights in the night sky
outside were constant reminders of the truth.  Those dim stars would never
be seen through the thick blanket of atmosphere that protected the Earth's
surface.  Here, on the ever-dark side of the moon, there was no such
blanket.

All around her, Abby could hear the noises of the busy Lab.  Even with the
entire population of the huge London Lab displaced up here, the
gleaming-new facility was more than half empty. Somewhere nearby Kershia
and her charges occupied a secret wing that had been theirs even before
the Lab was constructed around them, but they wouldn't be able to remain
isolated for long. Soon enough, as this haven gathered in displaced and
endangered Tomorrow People from across the world, the Lab would reach its
full capacity. It would take in more and more refugees until the air
reprocessors screamed in protest. Abby didn't need precognitive gifts to
see that far into the future. She hoped and prayed that this secret war
had already seen its darkest day; however, she knew that the situation
would remain bleak for months or even years to come. Her fists clenched
with resolve.  John and the other senior Tomorrow People had provided this
haven.  They had guided their people through so many trials over the
years. Now, the children of the Mass Breakout - Abby, Kershia and so many
of their generation - were finally learning what their seniors had learnt
through decades of anguish and persecution. Setbacks were inevitable, but
there was always a path back through the pain and Abby was determined to
find it.

She glanced up at the array of clocks on the wall of the observation room.
A clock showed the hour for each and every time zone on the planet below,
as well as the British Summer Time that Luna Lab observed - a reminder to
its occupants of the world they were fighting for. Three forty-five,
Eastern Daylight Time.

"A week." Abby whispered the words aloud.  It was a week to the minute
since TIM had picked up the desperate alarm that Abby had broadcast. A
week since the life she'd immersed herself in for the last seven years had
come to an end.

"Abby." TIM's voice from the wall speakers was gentle and apologetic,
aware that he was interrupting her meditation. "Travin and Josh have
arrived to speak to you.  And Kershia has just asked if you would like to
meet her for lunch."

Abby smiled despite herself. Her friends knew her too well to leave her
alone on even this minor an anniversary, but she didn't resent their
intrusion. Travin seemed to have taken on young Josh as his prot=E9g=E9, an=
d
together they had spent the week helping Abby to assemble and relocate the
remnants of the Toronto Lab. With the telepathic team who had spent a day
attuned to her mind still active in Canada, Abby's ability to help on the
ground had been limited. Josh and Travin's assistance, along with that of
the hundreds of Tomorrow People who had answered her plea for aid, had
proved invaluable. With a major Lab and six minor Labs abandoned, the
Canadian Tomorrow People had been in a flurry of disorganised panic, but
Kershia had turned out to be right. Abby had been stunned and flattered to
discover that her mere co-ordinating presence at the link tables of the
Luna Lab had been enough to bring that panic under control. Already the
Canadians were planning the construction of a set of new, smaller Labs.
Labs that would be less vulnerable to the devastating attack Toronto had
seen. There was too much to do for Abby to dwell on the past. She knew now
that when her people were settled and safe, there would be other crises to
deal with and other plans to make.

Marc and two thousand of her people were still in captivity, their prison
in the hands of some intelligence bigwig called Trent and a British
observer, both stuck in the camp - as far as TIM could tell from the
computer records - as punishment for losing Abby. Kershia had grown very
quiet when TIM's remote cameras had beamed back their first images from
the camp. Abby had recognised the man on screen as the one who haunted her
friend's thoughts. She had had little time to dwell on Kershia's distress
though, as she had seen friend after friend, pale and tired, appear on the
screen. Eventually TIM's tiny remotes had found Marc, bruised and unwell,
but very much alive. At first, Abby had been incensed to see Thomas
sitting on Marc's bed, but the boy's eyes were haunted and Marc touched
his hand with such caring reassurance that Abby had felt the mountain of
her fury crumbling away. She had exchanged looks with Kershia, only then
beginning to understand the British woman's compassion for the other
Malthus children. It was so like Marc to see beneath the surface while
Abby was stubbornly holding on to her first impressions.

"We will get them out, Abby." John himself made the promise as they
studied the images, trying to learn all they could in preparation for the
day when they would be strong enough to free their people from the
Barlumin-saturated camp.

Abby believed it. Labs all over the world were taking more precautions
than ever before and now the last Malthus threat was gone. Never again
would the Saps have the opening they had had a week ago. There would be
other setbacks.  There would be more people captured and lives lost -
perhaps in their thousands.  But despite everything, Abby had to believe
that the worst was past.

She smiled up at TIM's cameras.

"Tell Kershia I'd love to meet her, please, TIM," she said, heading
towards the door that led to the main common room. Travin and Josh would
be waiting for her there and there was work to do.



The End

____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"If A equals success, then the formula is A =3D X + Y + Z.
X is work. Y is play.  Z is keep your mouth shut. - Albert Einstein"
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Lorien Willow" <[e-mail]>
Subject: RE: TPFICT: Autumn Sky in the East: Leaning Together (Part 0/3)
Date: 27 Feb 2004 00:52:23 -0600

I'm so glad you posted this, despite my (and apparently others) lack of
promised feedback.  It really has a lot of promise and I can't wait to see
what happens next and how all the fandoms come together.

I'm sorry I haven't responded promptly, either to your fics or to LJ.  I
just felt so guilty for being such a slacker when you asked for a beta.  The
last couple months have been ugly - one day I feel find and productive, and
the next I feel like a out-of-work failure and find it hard to get out of
bed.  But the bad days are getting fewer and fewer.  Plus I'm not sick any
more (actual physical illness consumed most of last month).  So, I'm willing
to give beta reading another shot, if you're willing to take another chance
on me.  If not, no hard feelings.

BTW, I have a short "Adam gets bitten by the shark" fic that could use a
once-over.  Would you be willing?  If not, could you recommend someone?
Thanks.

Later,
Lorien



Visit The Grove!
http://www.geocities.com/lorienwillow
Home of Stargate SG-1 Fanfiction and more!

_________________________________________________________________
Watch high-quality video with fast playback at MSN Video. Free!
http://click.atdmt.com/AVE/go/onm00200365ave/direct/01/




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Michele @ Alt-Realities" <[e-mail]>
Subject: Re: TPFICT: Autumn Sky in the East: Leaning Together (Part 0/3)
Date: 27 Feb 2004 08:03:16 -0500

That's fine about the beta reading. I know how real life can be. Actually,
though, beyond this first part, I've been distracted by other things so I
haven't had the opportunity to do anymore writing. Hopefully in the next
month or so, that will turn around. :)

I'm swamped with web projects and RL (I'm the Matron of Honor in a wedding)
at the moment, so I'm probably not a good choice for a beta-reader unless
you're willing to wait for a really, really slow turn around time. I can
suggest some other folks, however, I'm not sure how busy they are: Meg
Freeman (I don't have her email, but she's on LJ under sage_theory and you
can get to her website and email from there), Mandi Olin (her website is
http://www.weirdweb.net) and Anne Olsen ([e-mail])

Hope this helps, talk to you soon!

(Oh and as soon as I get to writing again, I'll take you up on the beta
offer)

----- Original Message -----
Sent: Friday, February 27, 2004 1:52 AM


> I'm so glad you posted this, despite my (and apparently others) lack of
> promised feedback.  It really has a lot of promise and I can't wait to see
> what happens next and how all the fandoms come together.
>
> I'm sorry I haven't responded promptly, either to your fics or to LJ.  I
> just felt so guilty for being such a slacker when you asked for a beta.
The
> last couple months have been ugly - one day I feel find and productive,
and
> the next I feel like a out-of-work failure and find it hard to get out of
> bed.  But the bad days are getting fewer and fewer.  Plus I'm not sick any
> more (actual physical illness consumed most of last month).  So, I'm
willing
> to give beta reading another shot, if you're willing to take another
chance
> on me.  If not, no hard feelings.
>
> BTW, I have a short "Adam gets bitten by the shark" fic that could use a
> once-over.  Would you be willing?  If not, could you recommend someone?
> Thanks.
>
> Later,
> Lorien
>
>
>
> Visit The Grove!
> http://www.geocities.com/lorienwillow
> Home of Stargate SG-1 Fanfiction and more!
>
> _________________________________________________________________
> Watch high-quality video with fast playback at MSN Video. Free!
> http://click.atdmt.com/AVE/go/onm00200365ave/direct/01/
>




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail]
Subject: Re: TPFICT: Autumn Sky in the East: Leaning Together (Part 0/3)
Date: 27 Feb 2004 19:02:29 EST


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somehow I don't think i saw this story!

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<HTML><FONT FACE=3Darial,helvetica><FONT  SIZE=3D2 PTSIZE=3D10>somehow I don=
't think i saw this story!</FONT></HTML>

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Drew Thiele <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Re: Consumed by Fire
Date: 27 Feb 2004 22:07:57 -0800

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Excellent story!

Sorry I haven't responded quick enough. <G>

I enjoyed the mounting tension in the story, and was even wishing there
wasn't a 5 post limit per day. LOL

I wonder what Abby did with that person in that bar/coffeehouse? (Shared
her memories of what happened that day). I mean, did it engender any
sympathy, or understanding, or what? I'd be curious to see what that choice
did; whether it started a chain of events, or if it was a random standalone
encounter.

The ending was pretty nice, and a twist :) Except I somewhat got the
feeling the overall tension just went out of the story a little abruptly
from the 17th part to the 18th, but it could just be my impression.

Anyways, I'm looking forward to the next story!

Are any NS encounters gonna be featured, or is this only OS 'universe'?

Not a major deal for me either way. I was just curious :)
-Drew

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: Re: TPFICT: Re: Consumed by Fire
Date: 28 Feb 2004 08:41:18 +0000 (GMT)


I'm glad you liked the story, Drew! Thanks for your email. It's lovely to
get feedback and any thoughts/constructive criticism are always welcome.

In answer to your question: Kindred Spirits is an original series
universe, and Jackie and I have no plans to inclue NS characters. We do,
however, have a great many *other* plans which, we hope, will keep you
entertained for some time to come!

Thanks again for mailing.

Elizabeth


On Fri, 27 Feb 2004, Drew Thiele wrote:

> Excellent story!
>
> Sorry I haven't responded quick enough. <G>
>
> I enjoyed the mounting tension in the story, and was even wishing there
> wasn't a 5 post limit per day. LOL
>
> I wonder what Abby did with that person in that bar/coffeehouse? (Shared
> her memories of what happened that day). I mean, did it engender any
> sympathy, or understanding, or what? I'd be curious to see what that choice
> did; whether it started a chain of events, or if it was a random standalone
> encounter.
>
> The ending was pretty nice, and a twist :) Except I somewhat got the
> feeling the overall tension just went out of the story a little abruptly
> from the 17th part to the 18th, but it could just be my impression.
>
> Anyways, I'm looking forward to the next story!
>
> Are any NS encounters gonna be featured, or is this only OS 'universe'?
>
> Not a major deal for me either way. I was just curious :)
> -Drew
>
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"I've found out why people. They laugh because it hurts so much...because
it's the only thing that'll make it stop hurting."
____________________________________________________________________




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: The Stair - part 0/2
Date: 28 Feb 2004 20:02:16 +0000 (GMT)


Kindred Spirits - The Stair
By Elizabeth Stanway

Part 0

Synopsis: The reality of the Mass Breakout crisis is driven home - to one
young Sap, at least.

This story is set in early 2020 and is the fifth story in the Kindred
Spirits sequence.  Recommended reading order is:

1) Kindred Spirits - Two Aims, One Destination
2) Kindred Spirits - Double Bluff
3) Kindred Spirits - Slipping the Net
4) Kindred Spirits - Consumed by Fire
5) Kindred Spirits - The Stair

This story is based on the television series 'The Tomorrow People',
created by Roger Price and owned by Thames Television/Freemantle Media. It
also features original characters and situations created by, and the
intellectual property of, Jackie Clark and Elizabeth Stanway, October
2003.

The rhyme quoted in this piece, which gives the story its name, was
written by Hughes Mearns (1875-1965) in his work 'The Pyschoed'.

Many thanks to Anyta for her very helpful and thorough beta-reading and to
Jackie for helping to shape this story and for letting me share her
visions of the future.

Any feedback would be welcome, either on this email account or
[e-mail]


____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"I've found out why people. They laugh because it hurts so much...because
it's the only thing that'll make it stop hurting."
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: The Stair - Part 1/2
Date: 28 Feb 2004 20:03:50 +0000 (GMT)


Part One


 'As I was walking up the stair,
  I met a man who wasn't there.
  He wasn't there again today.
  I wish, I wish, he'd go away.'

That rhyme freaked me out when my mother read it to me. I woke screaming
with nightmares and I couldn't explain to her that not being able to see
anything scary was what made it so bad.  Of course, I was just four years
old and that was almost twelve years ago.  The words still send a shiver
down my spine though.  It's astonishing that anyone could have written
such a prescient piece of paranoia way back then. It's even more
astonishing that parents have been scaring their kids with it for
generations.

These days, of course, it's not funny any more.

As far back as I can remember there have been speculative news stories and
wild rumours about the Tomorrow People. To us kids they were just
bogeymen, hiding behind closets to jump out and snatch us away from our
folks.  To our parents they were a lot scarier. Can you imagine what it
would be like to have someone trawl through your thoughts? Can you imagine
how it would be if your teacher or boss or parents knew every
disrespectful or rebellious idea that passed through your head? Can you
imagine the perfect crime? No fingerprints, no forced entry, no heavy
lifting gear; just the incredible mind of some powerful creature who might
not share your worldview, your morals, your ... humanity. Those were the
rumours that scared our parents, and as we grew up, they scared us too.
The Tomorrow People have become the ultimate people 'who aren't there'. We
might meet them every day and never know it.

Oh, the governments still officially deny the Tomorrow People exist. It's
probably just about the only thing that all the world's heads of state
have ever agreed on. And yet every country seems to have a wing of their
military with some unspecified mandate to protect the security of the
state.  Every government has introduced new national security laws in the
last five years or so, passed through parliament with little more than a
pretence of discussion. And now, in every country in the world, the
authorities have set up isolation camps. They're meant to isolate dangers
to society. You know - persistent criminals, anarchists, the incurably
insane.  People were edgy at first. They thought that this was going a bit
too far.  They're used to the idea now though, and who can argue
convincingly against something that's designed to protect normal people -
people like you and me?

Sometimes we worried, a bit. No one knows quite what's caused all the
riots and tragic accidents across the world in the last few years.  Even
if the press could find someone willing to admit to being in one of the
mobs, they could rarely give a coherent explanation for their actions.
There were usually rumours of strange behaviour.  Often there were stories
about someone being promoted unjustly, of someone knowing things they
shouldn't.  No one wanted to voice their suspicions that the people who
were lynched were Tomorrow People. That would mean facing up to what they
feared most.

Even what happened over in Canada didn't get me more than a little
curious.  I mean, everyone knew something had happened. There was a night
of rioting and chaos. Thousands of people vanished suddenly and thousands
were sent to one of the first big camps.  There was a bit of fuss in the
press, but the Government here threw some kind of media blackout across it
and I think over there they were even stricter about the reports. The
Canadian people didn't even know as much as we did.

I didn't know the rest of it myself, not until this afternoon when I
actually started to look. There are records if you know where to find
them, and someone out there in cyberspace does.

There were over two hundred extra deliveries to the crematoria in Toronto
that day.

I never knew that. Not until today. I keep telling myself that I didn't
know how dangerous things really were.

If I'd known this group was here on the web, if I'd known there were so
many people with so many stories to tell ... I might never have had one of
my own. But this group is still small, even if it's growing fast. I think
most people out there in the real world don't want to know the truth about
what's happening - after all, until now I never wanted to know myself.
It's not as if the Tomorrow People are real, I told myself.  It's not as
if this thing could affect you, or your family or friends now, is it?

I used to really believe that, and now I'm ashamed. Does it matter if the
people dying alone and in fear aren't people you know and love? They're
still people.


*****

End of Part One
____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"I've found out why people. They laugh because it hurts so much...because
it's the only thing that'll make it stop hurting."
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "E.R. Stanway" <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: The Stair - Part 2/2
Date: 28 Feb 2004 20:05:42 +0000 (GMT)


Part Two


So what got me thinking?  Well, it was Rob.  We've been friends since we
started school - almost since I was young enough for my mother to scare me
with that strange little rhyme. We play football together. We go to the
same school. I suppose everyone has a close friend of one kind or another.
Rob and I have never talked about it. We're best mates, that's all.

At least, we were until a couple of weeks ago.  I guess it happened quite
quickly.  One moment, Rob and I were both sitting, chewing our pencils,
struggling with a maths test.  The next moment Rob was staring at the
teacher with a strange look on his face.  I noticed the funny expression
when I glanced up in search of inspiration. Then I saw Rob start
scribbling away at the paper.  I think I grinned a bit.  If Rob or I
couldn't think of the answers we usually just scribbled down nonsense.  It
was a bit of fun really, to see who could get away with the most
outrageously wrong answers.  Clearly Rob was stuck already and I was only
halfway through the answers I was pretty sure of.

I teased him a bit about that after the test, but he just grinned and
wouldn't talk about it. He wasn't grinning the following day when the
teacher called him to the front of the class and commended him for
learning the work so thoroughly. 'Robert' had got 100%, she told the
class. Rob just couldn't wait to sit down.  I think that until that moment
he hadn't believed what he had felt the day before. But for the next few
days he was almost himself again. Sure, a couple of times he answered
questions before I asked them as we hung out on the school steps. I tried
not to notice, but each time he gave me a worried look - almost as if he
were scared of me.

I don't remember now what I was thinking back then.  I think I was
starting to be scared too, though. All my life I'd heard stories about how
a Tomorrow Person could get into your head and change you.  My friend was
changing in front of my eyes.  Was there a Tomorrow Person around
somewhere, twisting Rob's mind? I didn't think it out so coherently, but
the fear was there. And then Rob collapsed.

We were on the football field, playing in the local kids' league, when Rob
just fell to the ground clutching his head. Everyone saw, everyone rushed
to help.  In the end the coach went with him to the hospital.  My dad just
frowned as he drove me home to wait for news. I didn't get any though. The
next day I went around to Rob's place, but his parents didn't want to talk
to me.  Rob wasn't going to live there any more, I was told. He had new
friends and they were looking after him.  His parents didn't want me
visiting again.  Rob would be back at school tomorrow, but he wasn't
coming back to live with them. I didn't understand at the time why his Dad
looked so angry or why his Mum had been crying, so I just went off and the
next morning I stood on the steps outside the school and looked for Rob.

He turned up so close to the start of school that I didn't have a chance
to talk to him before Registration. When I could grab a word he just
shrugged off the questions.  He had just had a virus, he said.  A
twenty-four hour bug. It was nothing to worry about.

After that he was more careful.  He didn't ace any more tests.  He didn't
answer questions before they were asked.  But sometimes his eyes would go
vague and distant. He wasn't around after school any more - just went off
with these new 'friends' of his. And once, when we walked past the locker
room, a hundred metal doors rattled in their frames.

****

I noticed the man watching Rob three days ago.  I almost told Rob himself,
but something had come between us.  I wasn't quite sure any more that I
wanted to trust him, and besides, I was curious.  So while the strange man
was watching Rob, I crept around behind and watched the man instead. After
an hour or so, I inevitably got careless.

I wasn't ready for the two strong men who wrestled me into the back of a
parked van.  I was even less ready for the ID card that the man I'd been
watching thrust into my face as he joined us. Special Intelligence, he
said, investigating a threat to national security.  And 'Robert' was
involved.

Now, I might have been scared and more than a little irritated by the way
Rob had been treating me lately, but we were still mates. And I wasn't
going to land him in anything.  I said as much and the Intelligence Man
fixed me with a steady look.

Robert wasn't in trouble, I was told. He was being used.  He was being
twisted by a force outside his control.  I'd heard the rumours, hadn't I?
Well, of course, the Intelligence Man couldn't say anything one way or
another.  The best thing I could do to help my friend would be to
co-operate. All I had to do was to tell the Intelligence Man about how Rob
had been acting lately.  About anything strange that had happened.

I hesitated, staring at the badge the man still held in his hand. I didn't
like this.  I didn't like it at all.  Did they mean it when they said they
wouldn't hurt Rob? I mean, these guys were with the Government, weren't
they? So they had to be the good guys. They wanted me to sneak on my best
mate, but they told me it was for his own good. How could I be sure?

They would help Rob, I was promised.  The man in charge looked sternly at
me with steady grey eyes. Rob was being used, he repeated. They'd bring
back the Rob I used to know. They would stop whoever was changing him and
give me back my friend.

Well, Rob was in trouble wasn't he?  Of course, I told the Intelligence
Man everything.  There was no other choice I could make.

I was on the other side of the sports field when they took him away. There
were just a few of us kids there and a wave of his ID by the Intelligence
Man was enough to shut most people up.  Rob screamed, clutching his head
just as he had done that other day. He shouted something about them taking
it all away - he looked scared as he asked how they'd done it. I didn't
hear the reply. Desperate to know what was going on, I ran up to them as
they put Rob in the van.

They were taking Rob away to get him some help, they said.  He'd be back
at school tomorrow and it would be the old Rob.  They wanted to thank me,
they said, for all my help.

****

I waited outside the gates before school yesterday.  I wanted to grab Rob
and talk to him before we ran into the crowd at school.  I guess I wanted
to see that he was my old friend again.  I wanted him to tell me I'd done
the right thing. But then the bell rang and I assumed I must have missed
him somehow.  I waded through the crowd, looking left and right, heading
for the steps that led up to the school's main door. Even then I was only
just starting to feel the sick fear that's settled in my stomach.

 As I was walking up the stair, I realised Robert wasn't there.

 He wasn't there again today.

 I wish he'd never gone away.



THE END

____________________________________________________________________
Elizabeth Stanway
[e-mail]
http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/8403
"I've found out why people laugh. They laugh because it hurts so
much...because it's the only thing that'll make it stop hurting."
____________________________________________________________________



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Meg Freeman " <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: FIC: "Overjoyed" 0/1
Date: 28 Feb 2004 03:11:58 -0600


Title: Overjoyed

Author: Meg Freeman

Rating: G/PG

Series: New Series TP stand alone

Warnings: None

Spoilers: The entire New Series :)

Summary: Kevin discovers.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tomorrow People. Roger Damon Price, ITV, Thames,
Tetra, Nickelodeon, and others do.

Author's Notes: Enjoy the story.





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Meg Freeman " <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: FIC: "Overjoyed" 1/1
Date: 28 Feb 2004 03:11:59 -0600

Come back,
I'll show you the roses
That brush off the snow
And open their petals
Again and again...

Maybe I'm just
the horizon you run to when
She has left you there...

And Spring brings fresh
Little puddles
That makes it all clear...

Hey, do you know?
Do you know
What this is doing to me?

- Tori Amos
"Here In My Head"



I. Relief

She was gone long before he awoke. Kevin rolled over onto the right side o=
f the bed,
into nothing but covers that were still made and coolness from sheets that=
had been
left alone all night.

Emotional devastation aside, it was kind of neat that he slept so soundly =
that he
barely even messed up his side of the bed.

Usually the bed looked like a disaster area, and one of his pillows was on=
the floor,
and somehow, he always managed to get a pair of cold feet going up his leg=
.

He laid in bed until two in the afternoon and missing her cold feet. He sl=
ept on and
off, and didn't even bother to turn on the TV.

There were messages from his coworkers, wishing him well on finding him a =
new
job, on the answer phone, but he didn't get up to get them.

He didn't get dressed until after dark.

He hopped from pub to pub, not wanting to sit anywhere too long. He needed=
to do
something. Scream. Run in circles. Get shot. Anything to break the stiflin=
g stillness of
the world. Nothing was happening. No big world disaster on the news. Nothi=
ng to
distract him.

Everything tasted a little different pub to pub. Kevin decide that was his=
project for the
night. Until finally he was too tired =96 maybe too drunk =96 to think of =
another pub.

So he held his keys in his hand and tried to walk back to his flat. He got=
sicker and
sicker as he walked. His sweat froze in the cold air and he collapsed forw=
ard against
the edge of a building and threw up.

He heaved and choked until there was nothing left. He stumbled into a buil=
ding that
looked like his flat and up four flights of stairs and reached in his pock=
et for his keys.
Only, they weren't there. Neither was his wallet.

Kevin pressed his face into the crack between the frame and the door and s=
lammed
his hand into the door.

He screamed loud and sank down to the ground. He used his arms on his knee=
s as
a pillow and drifted into something like sleep. His eyes slid closed and K=
evin could
hear the other tenants that were still awake somewhere in the peripheral o=
f his mind.
Voices faded in and out like a stereo with a constantly changing volume.

Then he saw steps and felt something catch his foot and he went flying for=
ward.

He even heard himself scream and felt himself jerk before he teleported.

The sea gave him a full body slap and sloshed around him. He was disconcer=
ted as
he tried to find something to kick off against. Then he leaned forward and=
started to
dog paddle. He paddled and kicked towards the shore for a long time and wa=
s

ashamed when he found that he was paddling in a foot of water.

He stood up and trudged to shore. He collapsed onto the hot sand and stare=
d at
Adam's tent, contemplating the distance as though it were wider than the S=
ahara.
Then he looked up to the damnably bright noon sun and decided it was worth=
it to
avoid getting sunburned.

Ignoring the gritty irritation of sand in his shoes and stuck to one side =
of his body,
Kevin laid down inside of Adam's tent and watched the ocean for a long tim=
e.

He could actually feel the spaceship in his mind, the faint but bright buz=
z of it, always
humming somewhere around the edges of perception. It kept getting louder, =
but
Kevin wasn't in the mood to heed it's call.

In fact, as soon as he felt sober enough, he was teleporting away and hope=
fully
nobody would know.

Kevin stripped of his soaking wet sweater and laid it out across the sand =
in front of
the tent. He let the warm winds blow through the tent and across his skin.=
He closed
his eyes and dozed off.

He woke up with someone's shadow blocking the light over him. With the sun=
behind
them, Kevin couldn't immediately identify them.

"Kevin?" they said.

It was Adam. Another face behind him blocked the sun.

"Lisa?"

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

He supposed he wasn't going home after all.





II. Contentment


Lisa smoothed over the quilt that was on top of the fold out bed that once=
was the
couch. Kevin sat on the bed and stared at his feet.

"You could have stayed with Adam, you can get sober just as easily in Aust=
ralia,"
Lisa reminded him, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, with her back =
to him.

"Is it a problem to stay here?" he asked, looking at the lighter colored i=
mpression his
foot made in the carpet.

"No, you're always welcome with me," Lisa told him, "But it seems strange =
that you
wouldn't stay with Adam or Megabyte."

"You left, too," Kevin said in a very empty voice. "Adam didn't."

"It doesn't mean he holds it against you," she chided, softly, holding the=
pillow over
her lap.

"Left," Kevin contemplated with a breath. He smoothed out the foot shaped
impression and then made another one right beside it. "Sounds like there w=
as some
club or something. I didn't really go anywhere. Was there anything =96 rea=
lly =96 to leave,
in the first place? I was still a Tomorrow Person. I just wasn't a Tomorro=
w Person
with anyone else. So maybe I never really left anything at all."

"Just because it doesn't have a name doesn't mean it isn't real."

Kevin leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "I was lost, Lisa. I =
kept thinking
that everyone was just out to get me, and then she made me take a chance. =
I even
stopped reading her mind after a while, because I thought I'd never need t=
o. For a
while, I thought I wasn't lost. Or maybe I just didn't care when I was aro=
und her."

Lisa frowned and turned toward him. Kevin was fairly certain she had no id=
ea what
he was talking about. But the way that she sat close and start rubbing out=
the
impressions of his foot in the carpet made him think that maybe she did.


"When's the last time you ate?" she asked, nudging his foot over.

Kevin smiled blankly and looked at his watch =96 the one that Chelsea had =
given him
for his birthday. The time read 8:16, but Kevin kept thinking about how th=
ey'd actually
gotten into a wrestling match on the floor =96 with Chelsea giggling madly=
and trying to
hold the box just out of his grasp.

He didn't realize how hard he was rubbing his foot into the carpet until i=
t started to
burn.

"A while," he answered, too tired to do all the mental math to keep the ti=
me zones
straight.

"Good. Because there's a 24 hour Chinese place," Lisa said to him. She sto=
od up
and threw the pillow onto the bed behind Kevin.

Kevin contemplated Chinese and wasn't sure he was in the mood for it.

"You sure?" he asked, with an uncertain frown on his face.

Lisa rolled her eyes and smiled. She took his arm and pulled him up to his=
feet.
"Come on, Kevin."

For a moment Kevin back on the beach, eleven years ago, with impatient, te=
enage
Lisa tugging on his arm, pulling him towards destiny even when he tried to=
dig his
heels into sand that kept giving way underneath him.

The Chinese restaurant was empty and Kevin stayed behind Lisa and let her =
order
for them. They sat at a table, and he tried to figure out which animal was=
his Chinese
zodiac sign.

"Oh, hey, that one's Adam," said Lisa, pointing towards a zodiac sign. The=
y both
stared at it and snickered.

"That would be his sign," Kevin said, resigning as he laughed.

A Chinese girl with a messy apron laid food in front of them. Kevin immedi=
ately went
for the egg-drop soup and forgot that he wasn't in the mood for Chinese fo=
od. He
was surprised that he liked it so much.

It was richer than he expected, and floating ghosts of egg whites slid pas=
t his tongue
in a way that was a lot more pleasant than he thought it would be.

He almost spit it out when he remember that he didn't have any money.

"I don't have any money," said Kevin, alarmed.

Lisa smiled at him. "You've obviously had a girlfriend too long, Kevin. Do=
n't worry,
I've got money."

Kevin calmed down and went back to his soup with a sheepish smile.

"Thanks," he said to her, "This is just like old times. God, I don't think=
Megabyte or I
paid for our own meals for a year."

Lisa smiled wider. "We're natural mooches. It's part of our evolutionary d=
efense
mechanisms. We may not be able to kill you, but we can make you pay for lu=
nch."

They laughed louder than either one of them meant to.

Kevin drank hot, sweet tea and told himself to remember the name of the re=
staurant.
He liked it a lot.

He slept that night, in Lisa's house and woke up when the smell of some ki=
nd of
cooking meat woke him up. He laid on his belly and looked out of the windo=
w. The
grass was frosted over and the sun was soft but bright across the entire l=
awn. The
winter grass was white and gold in the morning.

"I hope you like sausage," Lisa called, from the kitchen.

Kevin didn't, but he found himself willing to be surprised at least once.




III. Elation



Jade smiled at him from underneath her wide brimmed hat. The sun was inten=
se, but
it was actually rather chilly.

The desert being this cold just boggled Kevin.

Jade climbed out of the pit where the team of archaelogists were digging a=
nd sat
next to Kevin on the ledge

"Tutankhamen couldn't have been the first," Jade told him, laying a pot sh=
ard in his
lap.

"No of course not, and I've got the broken pot to prove it," he replied, p=
icking up the
rough, hastily etched-on piece of pottery. It was dark brown and there was=
a name
scrawled on the inside, where it was a smoother texture.

"This writing on the inside means bright," said Jade, "The Greeks in 4th c=
entury
Athens and even before that did this quite frequently. They'd hold these s=
trange
types of elections where they wrote the name of the person who they were m=
ost
afraid of on a piece of broken pottery. And the person with the most votes=
was
ostracized, or exiled out of the city for ten years."

"I know I'd be afraid of someone named Bright, too," said Kevin.

"You actually might, if you were a superstitious semi-nomadic. Now, everyo=
ne
assumes that the Greeks invented this process of ostracizing, but we're fi=
nding
evidence here that this was actually the practice of a Semetic tribe, long=
before the
Babylonian Captivity and the Jewish Diaspora."

Kevin blinked at her and considered the piece of pottery. "Okay, so it say=
s 'bright'.
That's a lot of characters for just one idea."

Jade took the piece of pottery from Kevin's hand. "It doesn't just say bri=
ght. In fact,
I'm not at all sure that 'bright' is even the name of the person. It may w=
ell be a reason
why they exiled whoever the unfortunate son of Shakasta was."

"They exiled someone for being bright?" Kevin asked her and took the piece=
of
pottery back.

"Careful!" Jade chided. She took off her hat to smooth her hair into a mor=
e organized
ponytail.

"I don't get why you got me here," Kevin answered, "Not that sitting in th=
e middle of
the desert, alternately sunburning and freezing my arse off isn't what I w=
anted to do
with my week off."

Jade snorted. "I can see Megabyte's influence started at an early age."

"But the student has become the master."

"Just as long as Adam doesn't come out in a black cape and proclaim to be =
your
father."

Kevin snorted. "I don't know, Jade. He was a rather randy six-year-old. Yo=
u never
know where he might have sewn those wild oats of his. Talk around the sand=
box
says he had all of the girls."

Jade put a hand over her face and giggled loudly. "That was quite possibly=
the worst
thing I've heard all week."

"But it's not the worst thing I've said all week," Kevin replied and smile=
d at her with a
grin so big she could've given him a dental exam at twenty paces.

"When you've finished waxing wiseass, I'll tell you why you're here."

"I'm finished for the day, scout's honor."

"Right. The reason you're here is that I think the word bright refers to a=
teleport.
These people were exiling teleporters. I've found a settlement about half =
a mile west

of here, and I think that's where the exiles were living. I got a funny fe=
eling when I
went over there last Wednesday, and I'm hoping you can confirm that it isn=
't just me."

Kevin stood up and brushed the sand off of his pants. He held on to the sh=
ard of
pottery.

"So, where's the car?" he asked, looking around the dig site.

"We're not going to drive over there," said Jade, "We're walking. My dig i=
s strictly off
the books. The only other people that know about it are Dr. Rayner and Dr.=
Bliss."

Jade and Kevin walked beside each other, against the wind. Kevin had to bl=
ink sand
out of his eyes every few seconds, but Jade seemed completely unphased by =
it.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Jade, but I thought that this would have b=
een more
Ami's speed," he said when they finally saw the smaller dig site.

"Ami's interested in it, but she doesn't have nearly the patience for it,"=
Jade said, with
no smile on her face to soften the statement.

"Well, aren't we up front today?" Kevin asked, still trying to reconcile t=
he brutality of
her honesty with the good-natured, insatiable, babbling Jade he'd come to =
know in
the last few days.

"Ami wouldn't deny it," Jade answered, "If it seems harsh, well, Ami knows=
I don't
have nearly the subtlety or talent for what she does."

"Acting takes patience, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Somewhat," Jade replied, "Acting doesn't take the minutiae that archaeolo=
gy does.
They both require a lot of work, but with acting, everything is progress. =
You don't get
up lots of useless dirt, rocks, bones, and broken pottery proclaiming that=
the
daughter of Aristus was a whore and other ancient graffiti. Sometimes you =
dig for
years, and you get nothing important. Sometimes you dig for a day and find=
a
lifetime's worth of new knowledge."

Kevin nodded and took his baseball hat out of his back pocket and put it o=
n, hoping it
would keep some of the sand out of his eyes.

Jade greeted Dr. Bliss at the edge of where the digging started. She picke=
d up some
brushes and very small tools and handed them to Kevin.

"Just stay near me," she instructed him.

Kevin found it strange how time could go so fast and so slow at the same t=
ime. It
seemed like every time he looked up from being hunched over some small squ=
are of
land, the sun was getting closer to the land and he had only looked up min=
utes ago.

"So tell me about this girl, how'd you meet her?" Jade asked, turning hers=
elf
sideways to get a better view at something she was carefully brushing off.=

"I met her at work," Kevin said, concentrating on his own assignment of br=
ushing off
things Jade handed to him and putting them in a basket. "We hated each oth=
er at
first, and then she punched me in the eye. After that, we were inseparable=
."

"We just can't have normal relationships, can we?" Jade commented, laughin=
g
strangely because she was turned and twisted in a strange position.

"She made me take chances. I actually went rock climbing because of her. A=
nd
skydiving. She was trying to convince me that taking a trip over to Americ=
a for white

water rafting would be a good idea. Chelsea could never pass up the chance=
to raise
my blood pressure. Her philosophy in life was 'ooh, maybe this will kill m=
e'."

Jade giggled.

"We've only got about three hours," said Dr. Bliss, turning to Jade and Ke=
vin. "I'm out
of here."

They said goodbye to Dr. Bliss and kept working.

Kevin turned and something caught his eye in a distant square. It was whit=
e and just
barely sticking out of the ground. He grabbed the brush Jade was using.

"I know this is probably terrible archaeological practice, but I think the=
re's something
more important over there," he said, walking while he was crouched over to=
the
square. He started to brush off the artifact a little. Jade took the brush=
from him and
started to slowly pull the dirt away from the white object.

Jade was racing against the tireless sun to uncover the object before dark=
.

Just as the light began to turn pink, she finally had it uncovered enough =
to remove
from the ground.

"Dear God, this is marble," she said. Kevin looked at her, confused.

"What's so significant about that?"

"We're in the middle of north Iran, Kevin, where the hell would an ancient=
tribe get
marble from in Iran? They had to be trading for it," she said, her voice p=
icking up
speed and volume as she brushed the broken slab of marble off.

"What does it say?" he asked.

"God, this is written both in their language and Linear A. My god, this is=
Linear A,
nobody's been able to read Linear A yet, but this -- Kevin do you know tha=
t this
means?"

Jade was looking up at Kevin with wide eyes and the beginnings of a smile =
on her
lips. He looked down at the marble slab in her hands. She was trembling as=
she
carefully put the tablet into Kevin's hands.

"Jade, are you okay?"

"Kevin, this is it. This is everything. This is Grecian marble. They got t=
his marble from
Greece, and we haven't found any evidence of marble from the other tribe a=
nd we
most certainly haven't found any signs that they were trading. There's no =
animals
remains, no camels or domesticated horses."

"So?"

"They were teleporting to Greece and trading, Kevin!" she exclaimed. She t=
ook his
face in both hands. "Do you get it? We're looking at a community of exiled=
teleporters! This is the oldest evidence of teleporters that we've found!"

Jade's face broke into a giant smile and her laughter was like an explosio=
n. She
pulled Kevin close and gave him a huge, frantic kiss.

Kevin laughed too and gripped the tablet tighter. They laughed like mad hy=
enas and
the sheer joy was like electricity. It made goosebumps go up Kevin's spine=
in the best
possible way.

Thousands of years ago, there were teleporters and they'd been exiled. The=
y
survived anyway, and made a life. A life that hadn't been lost, despite th=
e best
attempts of those who exiled them and the elements that covered them in sa=
nd.

Suddenly, Kevin didn't need to read the tablet to understand what it meant=
.



IV. Satisfaction


"I thought you said this place was doomed," Kevin asked, following behind =
Adam as

he put papers on individual desks.

"I say that every year when budget time rolls around," Adam reminded him, =
"And
every year, somehow, I find a way to keep this place open."

Kevin finally decided to quit following Adam and sat down at his desk in f=
ront of the
classroom. He felt strange, sitting a teacher's desk. It made him remember=
school,
which had been the most terrible and most exciting time in his life.

He tried to picture Megabyte, sitting in a maroon blazer, looking bored as=
Adam
lectured.

It wasn't that hard, oddly enough.

"You'd think the government would want to educate smart children," Kevin
commented. He opened Adam's top drawer to the right and found a collection=
of
plastic toys, fake vomit, and even some marbles.

"That's the boo-boo drawer," said Adam with a smile, "They may be gifted, =
but
they're just like other children. Although, every once and a while, they m=
anage to be
really ingenious. I had a girl last term that actually built a very large =
contraption, you
know, like one of those things you build in the game Mousetrap, all from t=
hings she
found in the room. I saved it, actually. It's over there."

Adam pointed to a strange device made of paperclips, pencils, pens, rubber=
bands,
and even notebook paper.

"Wow, that's =96 impressive. How old was she?"

"She was in one of my older groups =96 so maybe about eight. If you allow =
these kids
to be what they really are, they'll do miracles. I've always had this litt=
le theory, in the
back of my head, that they're a sort of in between stage, between them and=
us. That
their intelligence is the immediate next step. After all, we don't need ou=
r bodies to
change, so the next thing to evolve would have to be our brains."

"And I'm here because?"

"Because I need an extra set of eyes to watch while we're on our nature wa=
lk today.
The teacher that usually helps me =96 Kate =96 isn't here today. She's out=
sick."

Kevin sensed something strange in Adam's mind when he said that.

"Why, Adam, is that a crush I sense?" Kevin asked, smiling.

"Well, it's nothing serious, really. We went to dinner once. But really, t=
here's nothing."

Adam's denial only made Kevin believe more than there was something.

"Why, Adam, you've got a girl in every classroom, don't you?" Kevin teased=
, sitting
back in Adam's rolling chair.

"Well, no. Just Kate, I suppose. I know what they say about fishing from t=
he company
pier," Adam replied.

He was still talking while Kevin suddenly remembered the fight that he and=
Chelsea
had concerning work. She'd thrown a small lamp at him and he'd almost not =
dodged
in time. It went through the window.

She laughed over the shards of broken glass while they looked out the wind=
ow and
saw a very confused old lady looking up. Kevin got even louder and angrier=
and
Chelsea just laughed in his face. He stormed off to the bedroom, feeling l=
ike he'd just
gone ten rounds with his mother again.

He'd laughed about it later, when he went down to the street to pick up th=
e lamp.

Kevin was smiling, but he wasn't happy.


He snapped back into the present when Adam's voice stopped.

"Sorry about that," said Kevin, "I just. I got lost in my own thoughts."

"If I'd just lost my job and my girlfriend, I'd be lost in my own thoughts=
, too."

"I was just thinking that I was bad for her," Kevin told him. "She was suc=
h an alive
person, and I just seemed to suck all the life out of everything. I think =
that's why I got
fired, too. My boss said I needed to seek professional help. She tried to =
laugh at
things, Adam, she tried to have this wonderful life and there I was, alway=
s one step
behind her. Telling her why it was too risky, telling her why trust was su=
ch a bad
thing. Makes me wonder if I'm safe around anyone."

Adam said nothing, and they were silent as the children started coming in.=

There were fifteen of them and they came with backpacks and canteens. They=
giggled and squirmed in their seats. Adam smiled fondly and introduced Kev=
in as
'Mr. Wilson'.

"Good morning, Mr. Wilson," said the children, in unison. Kevin smiled and=
said hello
to them.

"All right, divide into two groups. Half of you with me and half of you wi=
th Mr. Wilson,"
said Adam. The children got up from their desks and immediately, all but f=
our of
them crowded around him. Kevin smiled.

"Some of you have to go with me," Adam said, mock-weary and still smiling =
fondly.

Fifteen children and two chaperones climbed into an old van and drove out =
to the
woods.

"Hold my hand, Mr. Wilson, so nothing will eat me in the woods," said a li=
ttle Asian
girl with a pink Hello Kitty hat on her head.

[That's Mimi,] Adam telepathed, [She can do calculus. And she's got a lot =
of phobias.
Her mum is completely paranoid about everything. Finally she went to live =
with her
aunt and she came here. We're still trying to get her to come out of her s=
hell.]

Adam smiled at him as they went down a slope and saw three rabbits bound a=
way.
The children giggled and tried to chase after the rabbits, playing a stran=
ge game of
hide and go seek while they looked for the plants and leaves that were on =
their
photocopied worksheets.

"Don't get too far away!" Adam called after them, laughing and jogging ahe=
ad and
leaving Kevin with the children that weren't chasing the rabbits.

"You don't want to chase the rabbits?" Kevin asked Mimi. She giggled and s=
hook her
head.

"No," said Mimi.

"But I'm not fuzzy," Kevin told her, smiling.

"But if you chase after rabbits, you get all dirty and you could get hurt.=
It's stupid to go
chasing after rabbits, you can't catch them."

Kevin grinned. "Yes, but you might find something on your list along the w=
ay."

"You sure it's okay to go chasing after rabbits?" she asked.

Kevin was about to say something about it was okay, as long as she was car=
eful and
didn't run too fast and tried not to get dirty. But he didn't.

"Yes, it's perfectly okay to chase rabbits. Even if you never catch one."

Mimi giggled and let go of his hand. She started to run ahead and then sto=
pped,
looking back at Kevin.

He waved her on and said, "Go on, before the rabbits get away!"


She turned around and shouted, "I'm going to get a rabbit!"

About an hour later, Mimi came running towards him, holding a bright flowe=
r in her
hand. It was brilliant golden-yellow.

"Look what I found!" she shouted, showing it to Kevin for his inspection.

Mimi was the only one who found a flower like that the entire day and when=
they got
in the van, Mimi handed her prized golden flower to Kevin.

"You can have my flower," said Mimi, climbing onto one of the seats, "Flow=
ers will
make you happy."

Kevin was about to object when Adam telepathed, [Let her give you a flower=
, Kevin.
It'll make her happy, too. It's okay to let people be generous to you.]

So Kevin rode in the front seat, carrying a bright yellow flower while the=
children sang
silly songs and talked about they'd found.

Kevin smiled at the flower.



V. Relish


Kevin had given up on the search for a job for the day, and decided that a=
ll things
being equal, he might as well waste the day playing a computer game as wan=
dering
around and feeling sorry for himself. Sure, he was feeling sorry for himse=
lf in front of
the computer, but occasionally he'd have those moments where he forgot abo=
ut it.

When Ami teleported into his flat, Kevin saw the reflection of it in his d=
arkened
monitor. He acted as though he hadn't and proceeded to move the joystick l=
eft and
right.

Ami sat on the side of the desk where Chelsea's things used to be. For a m=
oment,
Kevin was blank enough to make the quiet observation that Ami looked a lot=
better
than Chelsea's never ending mess of papers, cd's, and candy wrappers.

For a long time Ami just sat there, her legs crossed neatly. She even let =
her high
heels falls off and she fidgeted with a pearl earring, leaning forward. Ke=
vin glanced
over and wondered why women wore pantyhose underneath their pants. Or why =
they
wore pantyhose at all.

"I need to get some decorations for my office, since we're moving into the=
new
building and I won't be living in a cubicle anymore," Ami answered. She st=
ripped off
her linen leaving only the soft, pale pink silk, sleeveless blouse underne=
ath and her
slacks.
"I'm not much of a decorator. I've been told the couch doesn't go with any=
thing else
in the flat," Kevin answered slowly, blank-eyed and distant.

"You really want to spend the rest of your day in front of a computer?" Am=
i asked.

"It seemed like a workable plan," Kevin answered.

"How long have you been sitting there already?" she asked, uncrossing and
recrossing her legs. Kevin looked around and realized that the only clock =
in the flat
had been Chelsea's and then he glanced down at a bare wrist.

And for a moment, Kevin felt like Chelsea was a con-man who'd just taken h=
im for a
ride and left him with nothing.

"I think that's all the answer I need," Ami told him, with a smile. She pr=
essed the
power button on his computer and smiled at him.

Kevin didn't have enough energy to get angry with her.

Plus, he was losing that level.

"So what are you looking for?" he asked, pushing the chair away from the d=
esk. Ami

slid off the desk as well, and slipped into her high heels.

"That's the beauty of it," she answered, "I don't know. But I'll know when=
I know."

Again, Kevin didn't have the energy to make a comment. So he got his coat =
and
followed Ami to Italy.

Italy smelled like wet stones, and the drizzle was stifling. Ami walked fe=
arlessly
across streets, and Kevin ran to catch up with her, braving the relentless=
and
headstrong Italian drivers of Rome to do so.

Ami finally slowed her busy walk at a group of canvas tents with tables in=
side. She
walked inside with a kind of reverence. The tent was filled with knick kna=
cks and it
smelled, instead of wet stones, like wet bodies and unwashed hair.

Kevin followed Ami, not making any comment when she would hand things to h=
im,
saying "Feel!" or "Isn't it gorgeous!"

Each time, Kevin figured that Ami was picking something up because she wan=
ted to
buy it. And each time she handed it to him, then put it back on the table.=

Either Ami was extremely fickle or there was something Kevin was missing.

Then Ami gasped when she saw a handsewn tapestry, Renaissance style, showi=
ng a
young girl among flowers.

"Oh, Kevin, isn't is exquisite?" she said, very softly running her hands o=
ver the
patterns of pale flowers and pale skin.

"It would look nice in your office," he said, hoping to give her a hint.

"Oh, I wouldn't put this in my office, but isn't it just wonderful," she t=
old him. Kevin
blinked.

"Yeah, beautiful," he said, hoping that if he appeased her, she might get =
on with it.

They left the tents and crossed the street again.

"You know what, I think I should have a Native American motif in my office=
. Silver
and turquoise? American turquoise is so much cheaper than the Persian stuf=
f, and
much prettier, too," Ami rambled, taking Kevin's arm and practically sling=
ing him into
an abandoned alleyway.

They teleported into a scouring oven colored blue and sandy brown. A small=
, wooden
building with a sign saying 'Craz-E Crow's Trading Post". Kevin sweated an=
d his skin
prickled underneath his shirt as they walked to the trading post.

Ami looked perfectly happy in her linen suit and high heels, walking throu=
gh the sand
and into the store.

Kevin took a seat on the bench that was just inside the door and got a fun=
ny look
from the man at the register who had dark patches of sweat around his thro=
at and
armpits.

"You wearing a coat?" he asked, in a strange, rumbling Native American acc=
ent.

"I'm cold natured," Kevin replied, zipping up his coat just to see if it w=
ould amaze the
man even more.

The man just smiled at him, shrugged, and readjusted the leather strap aro=
und his
head.

Ami wandered through the store, and the man at the register seemed to star=
e at
Kevin, wondering if he would eventually take off his coat.

Kevin sweated and the sweat evaporated into the all-consuming dryness of t=
he air.
Still, he didn't take the coat off. He did, however, watch Ami intently =96=
in between
casual glances at the register man =96 to see how close she was to being d=
one.

Ami took her time through the store, examining jewelry, posters, art, and =
finally she
got to the very back of the store where she saw a giant dreamcatcher. She =
reached
high up on her tiptoes but couldn't reach it.

The man at the register helped her get it down and they left.

Kevin still had his coat on and smiled at the register man.

"You might want to bundle up, I hear it's going to get down to ninety tomo=
rrow!" the
register man shouted after him.

Kevin stripped off his coat as soon as they were out of sight.

"You could have warned me!" he said, wiping sweat wholesale off of his for=
ehead. It
evaporated before he could shake his hand.

Ami just smiled. "Well, I've got one thing. There's this great place in Ne=
w York. And
don't worry, it's plenty cold there."

Kevin followed Ami to New York, to a large sale on the sidewalk. Apparentl=
y, the
store was going out of business. Ami almost squealed at some lamp she saw =
and
Kevin decided to park himself on a gently used couch.

The sweat from the desert was now chilling him and Kevin put his coat back=
on. He
leaned against the arm of the sofa and wondered when Ami would be finished=
. He
got excited when he saw her having several things put into large bags.

"Come on," Ami said, standing over him, "You haven't lived until you've ea=
ten from
this one deli. They have the best reuben sandwiches I have ever eaten."

Kevin followed her a few city blocks to a small, crowded deli. They ordere=
d and sat at
the first available table and Kevin leaned against the wall.

"You know, the point of this was for you to enjoy it," Ami said, cocking h=
er head at
him, "I didn't have to drag you along. I could have done this on my own, b=
ut I thought
it might be some fun. Get you out of the house. A quick tour of the world.=
"

Kevin nodded. "Guess I wasn't in the mood."

"That's complete shite," Ami said, surprising Kevin with her frankness. "E=
verything
thinks that they're in the mood for something or they aren't. You're eithe=
r open or you
aren't. And if you're open, you can *get* in the mood. I'm not going to pr=
etend like you
haven't just gone through some things, and I'm certainly not going to pret=
end like
shopping Italy makes it all go away, either. But you can't expect anyone o=
r anything
to instantly solve anything. You want to feel better? You've got to make t=
he effort."

"Make the effort?" Kevin questioned, looking over, more to get away from A=
mi's gaze
than to check to see if their number was up.

"Look at me, Kevin," Ami said, in a way that demanded Kevin obey, even whe=
n he
didn't want to and couldn't. "This wasn't your fault. Fault doesn't even e=
nter into it. But
don't be blinded and don't just roll over. Life is very big and very long.=
I promise that
this goes away, and I promise that if you try, you do get through it. And =
the best way
is not to dwell on it or feel sorry for yourself."

Kevin snorted and said, in a quiet, firm voice, "So says the woman with a =
cushy job
and a steady relationship. Oh, don't feel sorry for yourself. I bet if it =
was you that you

wouldn't sit there, doling out advice. It's not so easy when it's your lif=
e. When you
didn't even see it coming. What was I supposed to do, Ami? I let her move =
into my
flat. I slept next to her every night and I didn't ask about work. I took =
her to see my
bloody parents. I didn't even read her mind, not even when I suspected som=
ething.
And she wants to know if I trusted her? What else was there to do? What el=
se could I
have possibly done to prove it to her? She always said I was holding somet=
hing
back. Well, I'm bloody well not going to sell out my friends just because =
she feels
insecure about our relationship!"

Kevin sat back and angrily wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of =
his sleeve.
He took a sharp breath and then stopped when Ami put a cool hand over his =
arm.

"This wasn't your fault. You weren't ready to tell. Trust is something you=
earn, not
prove. One day you'll be ready to tell, but you're not obligated to tell a=
nyone a second
before you're absolutely ready. You've got a right to your secrets, to you=
r privacy,
even in a relationship. If none of that proved to her that you trusted her=
, then nothing
ever will. And this will be okay, somehow."

"How?"

"I don't know, but you'll know when it is," Ami replied.

"It feels like the world is completely different. She made me take chances=
, she made
me fun."

"You can do that all on your own."

Kevin was going to say something, but their order was called out. They got=
their
sandwiches and sat back down.

"Tell you what," Ami said, "Why don't you pick where we go next?"

"I have no idea where we should go," Kevin admitted. He picked up the sand=
wich
and bit into it.

Then he paused. Ami stopped and stared at him, mid-bite.

The sharp of the cabbage and the salty meat and the tang of the cheese all=
mixed
and it was soft and thick in his mouth. He chewed slowly.

"Wow, this is the best reuben I've ever eaten," Kevin said, with his mouth=
full.

Ami giggled and so did he. They laughed with full mouths and smiled at eac=
h other.

"Oh, oh, you've got to smell this. Close your eyes, and tell me what you t=
hink of it,"
Ami said, reaching down into one of her bags.

Kevin closed his eyes and sensed, with his mind, that Ami had something he=
ld up to
his face. He heard the creak of old hinges and suddenly a smell flooded ov=
er him
that was warm and spicy, sharp and sweet in how it lingered.

Kevin's eyes popped open fast and he was looking into an old, carved mahog=
any
cigar box with velvet lining.

The taste of reuben lingered thickly in his mouth and over the top of the =
box, Kevin
saw Ami's eyes, beautiful and big enough to take in an entire world.

He closed his eyes and took a bigger breath this time.



VI. Rapture


The eyes were blue, and for a moment, while his mind was still waking up l=
ike a half-
dead light flickering to life in the cold, Kevin had no idea who was grinn=
ing and
standing over him.

"Megabyte," Kevin sighed, relieved and not, especially when he looked at t=
he alarm
clock and saw what time it was. "What are you doing here?"


"The sun's coming up on the island!" Megabyte told him, grinning madly. "G=
et up.
Get your swim trunks."

"Are you going to leave me alone if I don't?" Kevin asked.

Megabyte smiled even wider when he shook his head.

So Kevin rolled out of his bed and ambled towards his dressers. He turned =
around to
Megabyte.

"I'll meet you at the island," he said, wiping his eyes.

"Eh, I'll wait," Megabyte replied, sitting on the edge of Kevin's bed, "Yo=
u don't have
anything I don't have more of."

Kevin rolled his eyes.

"What is so bloody important about the sun coming up on the island?" Kevin=
asked,
tossing his pajamas on the bed.

Megabyte just smiled.

Kevin dug out a pair of sandals from under his bed, and with Megabyte's
reassurances that they had towels aplenty at the island, followed him.

Megabyte, apparently, had lied. Because the island sky was a dark grey and=
the
water was black glass stretching out into the horizon.

What Kevin saw were two surfboards, resting near the water.

"Strange how I don't see a sunset," Kevin said.

Megabyte still said nothing and jogged over to the surfboard and stood it =
upright.

"I even waxed it for you," Megabyte said.

"I don't know how to surf. I don't even swim that well," Kevin reminded Me=
gabyte.

Megabyte leaned the board towards Kevin and gave him no choice to catch it=
before
it hit the ground.

So Kevin stood in the pre-dawn darkness, on an island with nothing to offe=
r but a lot
of sand and a crashed alien spaceship, holding a surfboard and looking at =
the water
as though he wasn't sure what came next.

For a moment, Kevin not only didn't understand the situation, he didn't un=
derstand
his entire life. He didn't understand the world. Even the tides that brush=
ed the sand
were speaking in a foreign tongue.

"It's not a quantum physicals here, Kevin," Megabyte sighed.

"Yeah, 'cause we don't have any doctors with electron microscopes hanging =
about,"
Kevin shot back, with a sharp, slight smile. He was long past letting Mega=
byte get
away with saying stupid things when he really was smarter than that.

"Exactly. You just take the board into the water, you walk 'til you can't =
touch the
bottom, you swim 'til you get far enough, and you do it," said Megabyte, t=
aking his
board under his arm and jogging into the water until he was up to his wais=
t and he
slammed his board down. He turned around to Kevin, who was still standing =
on the
shore, holding up the surfboard so it wouldn't fall. "Come on!"

Kevin looked around, and since nobody was looking, and he was reasonably s=
ure he
had nothing else to do, he started a very determined never-say-die type ma=
rch
towards the water.

Kevin pushed the board with one hand and dog paddled with two legs and his=
other
arm. Megabyte laughed and turned his head as he was laying on his surfboar=
d.
Kevin looked from Megabyte to his own surfboard before he realized that Me=
gabyte
was trying to show him how to do it.

Of course, explaining it in small words would have beyond Megabyte, and pr=
obably

would have ruined whatever insane plan he had going on. Megabyte's mind wo=
rked
much in the way a horribly overcomplicated mousetrap with levers, pulleys,=
and
weights would have worked.

Although, Kevin had to admit, dog paddling while belly down on a surfboard=
, it was
fun to watch.

Watch being the operative word, however.

Still, he paddled and kicked towards Megabyte. He was very proud that he w=
as able
to get himself to sit upright on the surfboard, the same Megabyte was.

Megabyte was looking over his shoulder while he held out his arm with a fi=
nger
raised, as if asking Kevin to wait just a moment while he chewed his food.=

"Here comes one, here it comes! Just watch what I do!" said Megabyte, layi=
ng down
on his surfboard again.

Kevin did the same and watched over his shoulder, trying to figure out wha=
t
Megabyte was looking for.

"What are we waiting for?" Kevin asked, seeing nothing but the dark blue w=
ater and
the almost blue sky behind them.

"The *wave*, Kevin, the *wave*," Megabyte replied, probably meaning to be =
a
smartass, but too happy to have any real sting. "Here it comes. Start swim=
ming and
when you feel a lift, try to stand on your board!"

Kevin paddled, trying to keep his eyes on Megabyte, and he was watching Me=
gabyte
and didn't pay attention to the wave. Just as he thought he could stand on=
the
surfboard, the water rushed past him and flipped him and the surfboard ove=
r. Kevin's
world was darkness and motion, kicking and turning without a sense of up o=
r down,
only the inevitable force of the water.

Finally Kevin found the surface and the ever growing light of the surface.=
His
surfboard floated a little ahead of him and Kevin walked towards it.

"I still don't get this point of this," Kevin said collecting the surfboar=
d and standing in
the water while he eyed the shore, "Why do this now, especially when I'm n=
ot good
and I'm just going to end up nearly drowning in the sea again in five minu=
tes?"

Megabyte shook his head and was laughing, "*That* is the point. The wipe o=
ut is the
best part. You think you surf just to get back to the shore? It's fun beca=
use you can't
predict it or control. You just ride the wave, and hey, if you do it perfe=
ct, great. If you
don't, it doesn't matter. Just ride the wave, Kev. It'll take you where yo=
u're going
anyway. It's not about doing it right. I mean, come on. We're surfing at s=
unrise. Who
cares if it's a good idea?"

Somehow, despite the laughter, it sounded like a plea. Although Kevin stil=
l couldn't
understand what it was Megabyte needed him to understand.

For a moment, Kevin had a flash of a skinny kid with red hair, shooting a =
water gun
out of a bus window, running down the street, hiding from bullies and tryi=
ng to escape
a vicious attack gun. And then he thought about Megabyte smashing the mach=
ines to
save Lisa, and Megabyte being the last person he saw when he got bitten, a=
nd the
first person he saw when he woke up.

He laid down on the surfboard and swam to meet Megabyte, who was already
waiting for a wave. He sat up, with his surfboard next to Megabyte's.

"So what happened?" asked Megabyte.

"When?" Kevin asked back, not certain, but reasonably sure Megabyte was ta=
lking
about Chelsea and his job as opposed to why he fell off the surfboard. Alt=
hough
Kevin was reasonably sure he wanted to keep talking about surfing.

"With you, you know. And your girl?" Megabyte clarified.

Kevin sat in silence behind Megabyte, on a cursedly calm ocean, and wished=
for a
tsunami.

"Chelsea and I met at work. And I used to think that she knew what I was, =
the way
she'd look at me sometimes. I read her mind a lot. She always thought thes=
e
amazingly clear thoughts, like she knew exactly what she wanted to think. =
They were
like polished stones. Just bright and clear. No confusion. Chelsea knew he=
rself.
Knew what she wanted. She just *knew*. And one day she knew she wanted to =
ask
me out. And she knew it was time to move in together. And she knew I wasn'=
t telling
her something about my life. And then she knew I was getting fired, becaus=
e I'd
screwed up a huge account. She actually came home and we made love on the
couch that night, before I got fired. Then after I got fired, she moved ou=
t. It all
happened in three days. Just like that."

"Wow, that's =96 I mean, it's just =96" Megabyte struggled for some approp=
riate
estimation of what Kevin had gone through "It really sucks. Fired *and* sh=
e broke up
with you. It's like a really cheesy country western song, only you know, i=
t's really your
life, which isn't good. Because not that I think it's a good thing. Becaus=
e it's not. It
sucks. And your girlfriend sucks. And somebody please make me shut up beca=
use
*I'm* startin' suck here."

Kevin laughed so loud he couldn't even hear the ocean for a moment. Megaby=
te just
stared at him.

"It's just the way you say it, Megabyte," Kevin answered the question he h=
adn't
asked, "God I'm sitting in the middle of the ocean listening to you tell *=
yourself* to
shut up. It's bloody hilarious."

Megabyte started to laugh, too. Hard.

They laughed so hard that they didn't notice the wave coming until it was =
really close.
They both started swimming, still laughing as they kicked and paddled and =
watched
the wave come closer.

Megabyte let out a searing roar of joy that got cut off when the wave caug=
ht Kevin
and tossed him. He pitched and rolled in a cocoon of crystal blue, loose l=
ike badly
sewn-on button. His body twirled and twisted and he was surprised by the w=
ay the
top of the water was so thin when he came up, and how quickly he'd gotten =
used to
the endless, moving substance of the wave.

Kevin burst out of the water, certifiably and insanely happy. He let out a=
scream when
he finally took in a breath and was staring into the burning gold of a sun=
that colored
the sky and the water pink, purple, and blue like an artist had washed off=
a
paintbrush in a fresh cup of water.

He turned around to look for his surfboard, impatient for the next wave, f=
or the next
chance to roll and ride in the waves. The world, suddenly, was all too sti=
ll and silent

for Kevin's liking.



VII. The Sweetest Things


Megabyte threw sand in the fire just because he could, just to see it flar=
e up for a
moment.

"Hey, remember that TV show where they used to do that?" Megabyte said, la=
ughing
and staring into. Kevin wondered if he wished that he could make the fire =
do that
again and again, without the risk of smothering the fire.

Everyone stared at Megabyte as though they were all about to draw lots for=
who had
to put the white coat on him.

"So anyone do anything interesting this week?" asked Lisa, handing a stick=
to Jade
with a totem pole of marshmallows on the end of it.

"Mimi's aunt finally got custody of her," said Adam, and Kevin guessed tha=
t he was
the only one who hadn't heard the entire story about Mimi.

"Hey, that's great," Ami replied. "I moved into my new office. I got new f=
urniture and
everything. And the dreamcatcher looks really nice above my desk. People h=
ave
been asking me about it all week."

Ami winked at Kevin across the fire, and even though he couldn't see it th=
at well with
his eyes, he knew she'd done it.

"My mom got one of those new ovens. You know =96 the kind with the digital=
timers?
She has now baked her weight in brownies, so everyone take some before you=
leave," Lisa told them, handing around a large tupperware container of bro=
wnies.

"Dr. Bliss and Dr. Rayner said that I was right about what I found. And we=
're finding
more of it everyday. There's also evidence that they were trading with oth=
er
settlements of Tomorrow People. And who knows, maybe there are still settl=
ements
of TP out there, in some rural area, that we don't know about yet," Jade t=
old them
and she gingerly plucked on of the marshmallows off of the end of her stic=
k.

"You know what goes great with marshmallows? Brownies!" Lisa suggested, be=
ing
not so subtle when suggesting the brownies.

"My dad got to meet some important guy from Parliament during some securit=
y
conference thingy. And I surfed at sunrise," Megabyte told them with his m=
outh full of
brownie.

Kevin stared over the rim of his hot cocoa and listened to the waves behin=
d them as
they sat in silence, just staring at the fire. There seemed to be a commun=
al mental
silence, as though they were all finally quiet take over for a moment.

Still, Kevin felt he had something to say. He'd been there when these thin=
gs
happened to them, and even after twelve years, he still fit in with them, =
had some
kind of a place =96 even if it had no name or definition. He felt like som=
ething had been
set right, when he sat among them like this. He couldn't figure out what i=
t was that he
felt -- it was as formless as the ocean, but just as powerful.

"It's been a good week," Kevin said, when he finally found words that soun=
ded right.

The others nodded and agreed with him.


- END -





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Mary Svoboda <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: Between The Lines (0/??)
Date: 29 Feb 2004 09:33:44 -0800 (PST)

Between The Lines
By M. Svoboda

Part 0

This is a novelization of a 75-minute, three episode
Big Finish audio script that I've broken down into
easy-to-digest, bite sized bits.  I'll post one
chapter a week with a header to let you know exactly
which episode you're in.

It takes place after "Deadliest Species" and "Ghosts
of Mendez", roughly in the late spring of 2003.  It is
a BF story, so OS purists need to be aware that it
incorporates all of the contentious crap that BF has
forced down our collective throats.  Hopefully you'll
find it more enjoyable than some of the really
expensive imported coasters now decorating my house.

It's a pretty solid PG-13/R rating for soldierly
potty-mouth and violence.  Sorry guys, no sex in this
one.

It hasn't been beta-read, so please let me know if
there's anything terribly amiss.  Please also feel
free to email me at [e-mail] with
comments, corrections, Britification, or if you need a
soldier-to-civilian dictionary reference.

The first episode is "If I Fill My Eyes Up With The
Sun", and Chapter One: "A Soldier's Soul" immediately
follows this post.

Chapter One Synopsis: Ever wonder exactly what
Alexandra Caine had planned for John's tissue samples?

This story is based on characters and situations from
"The Tomorrow People", created by Roger Price and
owned by Thames Television, Freemantle Media, and Big
Finish Productions.  Original characters and
situations are the intellectual property and
psychological problem of M. Svoboda as of July 2003,
so help me Goddess.

Thanks go out to non-TPers Elena, Mark, Wendy and my
hard-drinking bowling team for their help, support,
and rounds of shots.  I think we're all glad it's
over!

Note to Jackie: This is it. :-)

Note to Admin:  I don't mind if this gets posted to
the archive, but please leave it under the name of M.
Svoboda.  Like my government, I want to maintain a
level of plausible denyability. ;-) Thanks!






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From: Mary Svoboda <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: BTL: A Soldier's Soul (1/5)
Date: 29 Feb 2004 09:34:46 -0800 (PST)

The Tomorrow People: Between The Lines
If I Fill My Eyes Up With The Sun - Episode One

A SOLDIER'S SOUL - CHAPTER ONE

Time.  The fire in which we burn, the dust that swirls
and scours but never settles, time shapes beings in
the same way eolian forces transform the hardest
granite to desert sand.  Pushing, pulling, yielding
beginnings and forcing ends; time acts as a blind
force on all caught within its unidirectional flow,
producing neither winners nor losers but only the very
strongest of survivors.

In a desert not their own and half a world away from
anything of comfort, time was just another enemy as
the hard light of day rapidly faded towards darkness
for a small squad of US Army Rangers.  Trapped and
taking fire in the courtyard of a disintegrating hotel
in Mogadishu, stranded after their helicopter had been
shot out of the sky, what was supposed to be the
routine grab of a tribal warlord had gone frightfully
wrong.  Their lieutenant had become a casualty hours
earlier, the radio had been destroyed when the
operator took a direct hit with a rocket-propelled
grenade, and practically every remaining man could
count his available rounds on his fingers and toes
with a few digits to spare.  Cut off from the safety
of a rescue convoy by a well-armed group of Somalis,
death was a certainty if the buck sergeant left in
charge couldn't come up with a way out for his
soldiers.  His stripes had been tacked on less than
one month earlier; the promotion timed by the
now-deceased squad leader to coincide with the new
NCO's twenty-first birthday.  "Jackson!  How much gas
is left in the Zippo?"

An acne-scarred PFC picked up a backpack-mounted
flame-thrower and gave the equipment a quick shake.
"Not much, Sarge.  One or two good bursts; maybe three
to five seconds worth tops."

"That'll have to be enough, 'cuz we're gagglefucked if
we let night fall on us here.  That convoy's gone in
circles for the last hour-and-a-half so we're gonna
have to make our way out to them."  The big man with
intense hazel eyes addressed the rest of the chalk
with authority.  "Okay Rangers, listen up!  The only
way out is past that freakin' fifty cal, so that's
where we're headed.  Someone help me saddle up the
Zippo, and I want all the remaining ammo in the hands
of Zimmerman and Brooks.  Zim's up front, Brooks has
the rear and the rest of you get nice and cozy between
'em.  Gimme some supporting fire 'til I melt down that
gunner and y'all get the hell out to the street.
Clear?"



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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Mary Svoboda <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: BTL: A Soldier's Soul (2/5)
Date: 29 Feb 2004 09:35:37 -0800 (PST)

Specialist Zimmerman's steady stare fixed on his
de-facto commander.  "Negative, Kirp.  We're taking
that gun out together.  We all go home or we all stay
here."

"Spare me the Fort Benning bullshit, Zim.  I'll be on
your six as soon as I flame the fifty.  No one on this
chalk gets left behind, including my own sorry ass.
Now somebody police up the LT and let's get ready to
move out!"

The sound of the other Rangers, his Rangers, seemed to
fade away in the background as the young sergeant
squeezed the grip of the flame-thrower.  The focus of
his whole world had become the fifty-caliber machine
gun mounted in the bed of a beaten Chevy pickup truck
parked behind the rubble of a wall some eighty meters
or so away.  He thought of his parents and his
childhood in a place very similar to, yet almost
completely different from, this forbidding desert
land.  He thought of the dead lieutenant and the men
that were now his own, vaguely wondering if it would
hurt much when the first bullets ripped into his
flesh.  'Get It Done' had morphed in a moment into
'Fight And Survive.'.  He felt a hand slap his
shoulder, and gave a knowing nod to Zimmerman after
their eyes briefly locked.  "Heads up, Rangers!  Stay
tight, stay focused, and stay on my backside.  Ready?
Follow me...!"

Jim Kirpan shook off the ghosts of his past and
blinked hard as he stood in shadow, temporarily alone
and once again thousands of miles away from the place
he called home.  His individual mission was complete,
and his present-day pack was filled with hard drives
and data discs instead of the napalm and compressed
air of long ago.  This operation, however, was far
from over and time was becoming critical.  He glanced
down at the GPS transceiver strapped to his left
wrist, causing a black remembrance bracelet inscribed
with the name of his departed squad leader to glint
slightly in the wan light.  He unconsciously pursed
his lips as he activated the microphone of a
miniaturized tactical radio headset.  "Get a move on,
Sarah.  I'm growing old waiting on you.  What the
hell's your malfunction?"

The voice that responded in Jim's ear was intense and
flustered.  This trip to the Defence Science and
Technology Laboratory establishment at Porton Down was
Sarah Kalayan's first field mission, and her sole duty
was to wire several cold storage rooms for demolition.
 "It's freakin' freezing in here, that's what my
malfunction is.  I'm wiring up the last timer now; ETA
ten minutes max.  Wait for blast minus fifteen on my
mark."



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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Mary Svoboda <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: BTL: A Soldier's Soul (3/5)
Date: 29 Feb 2004 09:36:39 -0800 (PST)

Jim couldn't help but smile.  He had 'recruited' Sarah
just six weeks earlier, and could see from the start
that she was going to work out just fine.  She was an
Army veteran who, like himself, had chosen to pursue a
civilian life of emergency service.  The only
difference was that he was a city firefighter and she
was in charge of a corporate hazmat squad.  "OK,
Sarah.  Setting stopwatch on your mark."

"Blast set for three, two, one, MARK, and four each
cold rooms are comin' DOWN!  Hallway is clear, Jim,
and I've got my jet boots on."

One more mission could be crossed off Jim's mental
checklist.  "Roger, set for blast at 0153:16 Zulu.
Run it out, soldier.  We've been here way too long
already."

Jim hefted the pack strapped to his shoulders and
re-keyed his mike.  "We're about ready to dust off,
Rachel.  What's your status?"

A melodious voice with a slight southern California
accent immediately responded through the earphone.
Although speaking in the slightest of whispers, there
was no questioning the obvious tone of excitement in
Rachel Hazen's words.  "I'm holding just outside the
main lab, Jim.  The damn place is lit up like a
ballpark, and you'll never guess who's burning the
midnight oil."

Jim frowned.  He had no doubts about the women working
with him; they wouldn't be on his team if he had.  He
knew Sarah to be brash, quick thinking and
resourceful, and was being reminded of Rachel's
natural tendency to be cool, cunning and, above all,
bold.  Just because they had taken the precaution of
carrying lethal arms did not mean they were fully
prepared to use them, no matter how tempting the
target.  "Don't tease me, Rachie!  Can you take a
shot?"

Rachel's voice wavered slightly, and Jim imagined that
she had just raised up take a peek into the lab.  "I'm
waiting for a chance to rush the door.  The room's set
up with a double row of full-height minus-20's running
back-to-back and right down the middle.  I've got no
shot through the reinforced glass in the door and I'm
afraid the freezers would take the brunt of a
grenade."

The conversation was starting to take a turn that Jim
wasn't sure he liked.  "I've got no time for heroes,
Rachie.  An easy shot is one thing, but waxing Caine
isn't our mission..."



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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Mary Svoboda <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: BTL: A Soldier's Soul (4/5)
Date: 29 Feb 2004 09:37:24 -0800 (PST)

He could just as well have been shouting at the sun,
because Rachel was radar locked and ready to head
downrange regardless of Jim's hesitation.  This was
one target of opportunity that was not going to slip
away, and all he could do was listen as his teammate
planned an off-the-cuff attack.  "Wait one...she's
moving to the back benches!  It's showtime, and I'm
leaving the channel open..."

Jim sighed.  His instincts cried out for caution, but
he knew there was little he could do to dissuade the
former naval officer at this point.  Besides, who knew
when another chance like this would come along?
"Okay...  Poster Vij, sis!  Do it fast and let's go
home."

"Roger that!" Rachel had been involved in a few
actions in the past, but not like this one.  Jim was a
little surprised to hear that much excitement in the
voice of someone who practices medicine by day.  He
did, however, share her desire to end this ongoing
nightmare, and he listened intently to the future as
it unfolded in a distant part of the building.

But waiting patiently was not one of Jim's strong
suits, and there was no force on earth that would keep
him from assisting one of his own in harm's way.  "You
on this, Sarah?  We've got a little change to the
program."

"Damn right, fire-stud!  Hooah!"  Sarah's voice came
across the speaker in very slight bursts.  She was
slightly winded from running, and her boots made a
faint slapping sound on the tile of the hallway.  Jim
wondered if he was the only one on the team with any
misgivings about moving directly against Caine.

"We're not home yet, Kalayan.  Continue to monitor the
open channel and keep moving to the rally point.  I'm
gonna divert to backup Rachel."

If Sarah had any concerns, they did not come through
in her voice.  "Gotcha, boss.  See ya' soon."

The assault team leader proceeded through the darkened
halls, listening intently to the activities of his
cohort.  He knew Rachel would be moving in a quick,
quiet and disciplined manner, but a few muffled sounds
could still be heard over the open radio channel as
she advanced through the lab toward her target.

Unexpectedly and to his dread, he listened to his
teammate, a specialist in reproductive medicine, start
to mumble to herself.  "What the hell is she doing
here?  Sequencing gels...culture media...MTL5 tesmin
analog?  Amniotic sample lot 27-beta?!?  Oh, hell no!"



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From: Mary Svoboda <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: BTL: A Soldier's Soul (5/5)
Date: 29 Feb 2004 09:38:25 -0800 (PST)

The unmistakable sound of a pistol bolt releasing rang
so loudly over the earphone speaker that Jim jumped
slightly as he ran.  Rachel's voice came through
again, virtually dripping with anger and disgust.
"Not on my watch, Caine!  Not a chance!"

Involuntary chills began to course down Jim's spine.
The situation was starting to spin out of control.
"Rachel!  What's happening?"
The harsh sounds of automatic pistol fire, hissing
gasses and breaking glass were transmitted through the
ether.  "She's NUTS, Jim, and she's out to kill 'em
ALL!  I'm ending this crap right now.  Get Sarah and
get out of here!  I'll be right behind you."

The lab door was flung open with a loud BANG that
caused a slight bit of feedback when transmitted over
the radio.  Members of DSTL security had arrived on
the scene.  "Dr. Caine!  Are you in here?"

The voice of a second soldier broke in.  "Hey!  Mind
that bint with the gun!"

The sound of some quickly fired pistol shots, a gasp
from Rachel, and a chilling thud, then silence.  The
pain in Jim's voice could not have been any worse if
he had been the one who was shot.  "Rachie?  RACHIE!"

(To Be Continued next week in Chapter Two: Mission
First, People Always)


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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Wendy Perkins <[e-mail]>
Subject: TPFICT: TPFICT Awards - Results
Date: 29 Feb 2004 14:35:02 -0600

I have been very remiss in my duties. Someone just pointed out that I
hadn't actually posted the results from the last round of TPFICT awards,
which closed almost two months ago. So, while I'm thinking of it, here they
are:

Favorite Original Series Story:
    Winner - "All or Nothing" by Shaun Hately (7 votes)
    Runner up - "Dreams of Tomorrow" by Elizabeth Stanway (5 votes)

Favorite Big Finish Story:
    Winners (tie) - "The Ariane Conspiracy" & "Paradox" by Jackie Clark (5
votes each)

Favorite New Series Story < 40K:
    Winner - "Faithful and Mad" by Meg Freeman (6 votes)
    Runner up - "Consolation" by Meg Freeman (5 votes)

Favorite New Series Story > 40K:
    Winner - "Grimm's Law" by Wendy Perkins (7 votes)
    Runner up - "Hypatia" by Elizabeth Stanway (4 votes)

Favorite Serial:
    Winner - "A More Perfect Union" (7 votes)
    Runners up (tie) - "Tears In Heaven" & "Tomorrow's Future" (5 votes each)

Favorite Crossover:
    Winner - "Harry Potter and the People of Tomorrow" by Mike Matott (6 votes)
    Runner up - "A Good Dream Gets Even Better" by Jackie Clark (5 votes)

Favorite Author:
    Winners (tie) - Michele Mason Bumbarger, Megan Freeman, and Elizabeth
Stanway (5 votes each)

Congratulations to all the winners and runners up. The archives have been
updated to reflect the awards. Thanks to Michele Bumbarger for making the
award graphics.

...
Wendy